please don't deceive me when i hurt you

[kidproof]

Who: Joel Miller (kidproof)
What: Just DITL of what my loser gets up to in Milton, and the frozen wasteland they now call home + some event top levels.
When: Month of April through to May
Where: around — reach out for any closed starters you may want. His app is here and his permissions too. Reach out to me on plurk at doggos or on discord at newdlle

Content Warnings: TBA - will update here and by headline when necessary. Advance warnings for Joel being Joel.

Comments

farm house homestead, skirts of milton, ota

[kidproof]

[ Being gone a month in this sleet-filled never ending icy hellscape meant that he had to do routine maintenance on the farm house he'd taken up residence in. Besides turning the top of the barn into a crows nest he's got pit-falls around his meat reserves he's slated under ground and booby traps around the barn itself to protect the horse. Nothing that'd kill a person, only inconvenience them and he regularly checked them too in case some poor unfortunate moron found themselves on the reverse end of one of em.

Joel's working with wood, and the sound of his mallet pounding nails through the wood that wasn't rotten through from the dampness of the snow and sleet echoes off of the flat margin of land between him and Milton. So does the sound of the saw, and the fire he's got burning in an old metal barrel to keep him warm while he works if the sweat's not enough.

He's singing to keep track of the time, under his breath, Future Days by Pearl Jam. ]

All my stolen and missing par-

[ It's when he pulls down a hot cup of steeped herbs that almost managed to taste like tea that he realizes he's got company. ]

Why can I never do my chores alone? I reckon if you're gonna stand there looking stupid you might as well make yourself useful. Can you grab me some more wood from over there.

[ Joel jerks a hand in the direction of the wood pile he's already chopped apart. Less work for his back if he's gonna have spectators any time he decides to patch holes in the fence and the foundation. ]

[alinere]

[To be fair, Armand was here first. Well. Today he was, anyway. Arguably. The booby traps make this a relatively safe place to sleep during the day, so he bedded down in the hay here, tucked away out of sight and wrapped in his dark blanket, a silent vagabond alighting where he can. When the sound of the saw first wakes him, he doesn't move until he can ascertain that he has not yet been perceived. Even without his vampire gifts, he can still move quietly, but the hay proves too much for his abilities. A moment after Joe speaks, a head of messy black curls pops up from behind a stack of bales, bits of straw randomly stuck to it. From the shadows, his orange eyes almost glow, but his expression is more perplexed than anything, like an unsuspecting deer caught by unexpected eyes. A few heartbeats later, he rises and moves toward the pile of wood. Eyes dart between it and the fire, ascertaining which pieces would be most advantageous to select before he mutely carries the chosen candidates toward Joe.

There, he halts. He doesn't immediately put anything on the fire. He hasn't been told to do so yet. This man might want it done a particular way.]

[kidproof]

Okay...

[ Joel's going to have to address the random house guest or in this case barn guest. No wonder Callus was so vocal this morning, Joel figured it was the shoes and made a mind to figure out how to play Ferrier but now he knew it was because he wasn't alone. ]

That'll do for now. Should I ask why you're camped out at my place? If you're smart enough to get around my boundary work then you're smart enough to know I'm gonna charge you for your keep. Labor, time, or resources.

[fidior]

[ The months stretch on and the sunlight stretches on with them. The days are getting longer and longer, slowly stealing precious hours of true darkness.

Edward once loved the sun. Now, it brings him agony.

Still, he tries to force himself to bear it for at least some amount of time, inbetween the periods where he needs to shut himself away indoors, curtains drawn, towels stuffed under cracks in doors, snuffing out as much light as possible. He insists on getting some direct sunlight here and there, hoping that it might help stave off his own darkness.

So here he is, a solitary dark figure dressed in the full uniform of the Royal Navy, shotgun slung over one shoulder. Doing one of his usual patrols, or some ghost-echo of it, for he's in no shape to actually do much of anything. The fatigue and illness brought on by the sun keeps him slow and heavy. His complexion's pallid, rich brown eyes now dulled and dim, breathing staggered. He might have pushed himself a little too hard, but if he doesn't, then what is the alternative? To give in to— to this?

(He longs for shadow, for the comfort of darkness. And beneath his ache lurks a hunger, terrible and yearning. What has he become?)

Someone's alive, up ahead. There's an old farmhouse that has been abandoned for a time, but now someone's there. He hears a voice, he's drifting that way, gun slack against his back, head dipped down, breathing hard and heavy.

The man.... He recognises him, the way he knows every Interloper that's come through here — perhaps not well, he'd hardly spoken to him, but ever since his own arrival he'd kept up with the roster of residents. This man was gone, and now he's back. It's enough to perk Edward's head up, hazy eyes wide and surprised.

He starts shuffling over towards the wood pile to fulfill the man's request, letting his gun slide off of his shoulder, resting it down. Two pieces of wood is all he can manage grasping in his arms, and as he brings them towards Joel, he's looking faint. He's stubborn and foolish and desperate to keep going. His words come out in a breathless rush. ]

You were here before, weren't you...? You've returned to this place.

[kidproof]

[ One of the benefits of knowing exactly who he was and how he felt about being stranded in this hellscape was that he never gave anyone more mind than he had to the first time around.

After hauling bodies out of the snow, burying them, burning some — there wasn't much left to discuss. After he moved out to the farmhouse his presence in the schoolhouse got scarce and Joel did what he could to not have to go there and deal with Methusalah or any of the newer recruits to save himself the grief.

He doesn't recognize him, but he regards him the same way he would any other person out this far and meets his gaze when he drops the wood mild concern in his expression but not enough to state it openly or out loud.

Joel jerks his thumb in the direction of another chair. He looked like he could use a seat, but he's not gonna waste his words hammering that point home. ]

Yeah, some real good fortune, huh?

[fidior]

[ Edward's dark eyes sweep to follow where the man gestures, and he feels the pull of exhaustion wanting nothing more than to sit, to rest. But he shakes his head (stubborn, foolish, desperate). ]

Thank you, but I'm all right. It's best to keep one's hands busy.

[ He sets the wood down and goes to get more. He has to move slowly, but he still moves. ]

Forgive my asking, but do you... remember everything, from before?

[ La'an returned after she too disappeared, but she wasn't the same. She remembered nothing and no one. ]

[kidproof]

[ Joel's not gonna make any demands of him or force him to do the leg work at keeping himself whole. He shrugs and keeps pulling the logs onto the flame as he brings them. Listening, halfheartedly to the conversation as he speaks to him from point A to point B. ]

I remember enough. Some things are hazy. Why?

[fidior]

[ Little keeps bringing logs over, slow but steady. ]

There was another who... left, and then returned after some time had passed. But she was not.... She remembered neither her experience here, nor any of us.

[ It's all very worrisome, thinking about the influence this place has on a person's mind. The supernatural influence. ]

Do you feel... at all changed?

[kidproof]

[ These questions were deeper than Joel knew how to figure himself or what to do with. The truth was, he didn't feel changed. If he felt anything it was frustrated, at the frayed edges of memories he couldn't quite flesh out and a longing to be home in the hellscape that was more familiar to him. The frown fixed on his face makes that clear, the discomfort visible in the tension held under his eyes and between his brow. ]

Can't say that I do. Not like whoever you're referring to. It was like going to sleep, losing time, but I remember enough. I remember plenty. I know I don't fuckin' like it here, and that none of this ever seems to get any better.

[fidior]

[ Edward sees the way the other man's face tightens with some underlying tension. He knows it's a difficult question to answer. The act of being brought to this place at all might make someone feel changed.

But this man is different from the average Interloper. He vanished, and then came back. Like La'an did. Is there a reason for that? A pattern? And a worse, horrific thought — what if that pattern means he's a mark for the Darkwalker? If his pattern continues to follow La'an's..... although it's clear from his response that the pattern isn't fully the same. He remembers being here. ]

...I see, [ Edward answers thoughtfully, his own brow knit. ] I wish I could reassure you that our circumstances have improved since you were here last, but... unfortunately, things have only grown worse.

[ He casts a look around, a worry creeping in. Bad things have been happening to people on their own. ] Are you living out here alone, sir?

[kidproof]

[ Joel gave up seeing reasons in the bullshit or the maelstrom of life a long time ago. Reason starts being as meaningless as everything else when your kid dies in your arms. Reason was just a tree falling in the woods with nobody around to hear it. Some old wives' tale for hope and hope was a length of rope. ]

Don't need your reassurance. I knew things were gonna get worse before this shit wandered into science fiction. Doesn't take a genius to understand limited resources and more people means things go from bad to worse.

[ Joel tosses some more of the kindling on the backyard bonfire and leans forward with a haul from ice fishing. It's not a very big fish but it's enough to keep him fed for a couple of days. More, if he tries to smoke and make jerky out of what's left. ]

For the most part. I've had my share of vagrants, but I've got the horse to keep me company and the occasional looky-lou too.