𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐓. 𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fidior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2025-08-20 07:54 am
fidior) wrote in singillatim2025-08-20 07:54 am
the other side of this mean twilight
Who: Edward Little / Konstantin Veshnyakov / YOU!
What: catchall for shenanigans — let's plot something or hit me with a wildcard, I'm easy!
When: August for now, possibly September
Where: various places: potentially Milton, Lakeside, Silverpoint
What: catchall for shenanigans — let's plot something or hit me with a wildcard, I'm easy!
When: August for now, possibly September
Where: various places: potentially Milton, Lakeside, Silverpoint
— Maelle (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 spoilers in this thread!)
Ever since the incident at Milton House, the girl has been on his mind. He won't dare go find her in the nighttime; he's too much of a predator in the moonlight. The sun keeps his darkness tempered, but he needs to be able to move around easily and stealthily. So he sheds man's skin, wandering as a beast.
It's easy enough to find her. The town is small, and his senses lead him right to her one day as she walks. But he's cautious, staying back at a hidden distance as he slowly follows her through town, haunting wherever she may go. He isn't planning to actually approach the girl, only to watch, to make sure she's all right.
.....But his animal's brain is taking over more quickly than it usually does, an unexpected side-effect for him now that the Darkwalker's curse runs through his spirit. And that animal's brain seeks what it needs in the immediate moment, which is relief from the sun. Even in this state it ails him, making him weakened, ill. If Edward were thinking altogether clearly, he wouldn't startle the girl by approaching her in this form, certainly wouldn't expect to be let into her home while he's like this. But the wolf wants relief, and when she seems to be heading back to where she lives, he finally approaches her.
He's slow, cautious, head and tail dipped low, stepping up as she moves up to her home: a large, fluffy black wolf with mournful eyes. Nauseated from the sun, he licks his lips every few seconds, feeling sickly. As he makes his appearance known, he also gives a low, pathetic whine. Don't you want to let him inside.....
no subject
She turns and approaches while Nova takes that as permission to bound over as well. Once close, Alicia kneels and waits, offering her hand for a sniff.
"Are you lost?" She asks with a smile.
no subject
Perhaps the wolf in him can express that longing that Edward, as a man, can swallow down more easily. The longing to be around others again, to be part of a collective, a pack. And the wolf knows that humans are helpful, that she can give it aide from what hurts it now. When the girl kneels close and offers a hand, he's finally lifting his head to her.
He stares, comprehending the words in a way that may seem disconcertingly human, and then dips his head almost as though in a nod. In the next moment he pushes his nose against her hand, and gives it a soft lick. He's not exactly lost, but it's more a general cry for help, and he gives another low whine under his breath.
no subject
Alicia opens the door to the house she's been staying in and waits for both Nova and the new friend to file in. Should she be letting in an unknown "stray"? Probably not.. but she's never been that diligent at perceiving danger. The house is simple, bare minimum. It's likely been picked clean long before she settled in. She heads to the kitchen and before long sets down a dish of dog food for each of them. Hopefully they can eat near each other in peace.
no subject
Hunger; always the hunger, deep down in a place that Edward, the man, is never quite able to satisfy enough. The wolf will become more aware of that hunger. For now, he follows the girl in, tentative but willing, head still lowered almost submissively as he trails Nova indoors.
When Alicia places down some food, he hesitates only a moment before moving in on it. At first it's slow, a little nervous, unsettled by how ill he feels. But being indoors is slowly helping with that, out of the direct sunlight. Soon enough he's eating faster, more at ease, and when his dish is cleared he licks it, hungry for more. (Hungry for something that corporeal food can't satisfy, though he doesn't understand this.) He lifts his head, turning it to stare at Alicia: expectant but weirdly polite about it, waiting patiently as though to say More, please...
no subject
Staying crouched she offers him a pat on the head, a scratch behind the ears, if he'll accept. "You really must've been hungry, huh? I can't really get you much more than that for now. But maybe for breakfast." She didn't really ration out the idea of two dogs.. it might need some recalculating for what to trade next time she can.
no subject
The girl says there can't be much more than this. And as the wolf gulps down the last of the food, that displeasure ripples in his throat, a low growl as he casts his eyes sideways and up at Alicia. Ordinarily Edward — docile and gentle even in this form — would never growl at someone. But with the Darkwalker's curse within him, he's not the same as he once was.
The growl lifts one corner of his mouth, exposing a sharp fang. No more than this? But he's hungry.
no subject
She kneels close again, although this time to tug Nova back. It's a protective gesture to put herself between the two of them. She doesn't need them getting into a fight over food. "But if you stay.. you can still have breakfast." She'll dare to look him in the eye this time. Even if he doesn't really grasp her words, surely her demeanor is enough.
no subject
His own bright, sharp eyes lock on to Alicia's, challenging. Maybe he attacks her, then. Maybe he eats her. Maybe that'd be enough to satisfy the hunger.
....But then Edward, or as much of him that's left, comes through again with a wave of sheer horror by the thought. Never before has he ever thought about hurting or eating someone when he's a wolf. He would never... he'd never do that. He wouldn't. (Would he?)
Suddenly, the beast loses his sharpening edges. He gives a keening whine, and moves back, ears and tail lowered. He needs to leave. He was supposed to be... checking on the girl, wasn't he? That's why he came here. To make sure she was all right. But he can't be trusted. He's not safe. He hurt Kate Marsh, and now he'll hurt Alicia.
Edward turns towards the door and whines again, pawing at it, wanting to be let out.
no subject
She doesn't deny him. "All right, all right," she says as she opens the door again for him to leave. "You can come back in the morning. If you want to. I won't mind." It's more cheerful than her earlier tones. He probably has no idea what she's saying but even if he doesn't return, maybe he'll still be able to find food from someone else. He'll be okay, right?
no subject
His remaining human side pushes forwards with an insistence he needs to distance himself from her, and he's hurrying out before Alicia's cheerful tone gives him pause. Unable to help himself, the wolf perks his ears, head turning back to look at her. His tail gives a slight jump, almost a wag; an animal happiness surges to the fact that her voice has shifted, that he hasn't made the human mad.
Then he remembers himself and moves on, running off down the road. Time to head home...
— Ari Tayrey (cw: parasitic alien activity... illness / potential emeto)
Fortunately there are a few caves along the way to hole up in, and although they're shallow and slight, hardly a true safe haven from the elements, the small team of two manage to find one big enough that Tayrey's sled can fit in. The cavern is also just enough to keep the sharp wind from barraging them, and it's possible to build a small fire close to one of the cave walls, to keep it blocked from the flow of wind that way; they waste no time establishing such a comfort. The flames flicker, kept fed by sticks and shreds of old paper brought on the journey.
And that journey has been an enjoyable one, truly. Konstantin's spirit perpetually yearns for adventure, for purpose, and accompanying Tayrey to the coast to help with her ambitions of establishing lines of trade was one such purpose he jumped right onto. Of course, there's also the matter of wanting to keep an eye on the young lieutenant, to offer back-up should she bump into the variety-pack of trouble too often found in this land, but Konstantin also simply enjoys Tayrey's company just as much. And he's been a cheerful travel companion, never shy to converse as much as anyone allows him to, and happy to provide some singing of his own, this time... Sometimes humming or outright voicing those songs from his culture, the ones the spacemen were so fond of.
The Old Bear's spirit is a burst of vitality his body welcomes all too happily, and it keeps him more hale than he's been since his arrival in this place, but it doesn't make him invincible, and it doesn't particularly help with the chill and the snap of biting wind. In truth, he's also been pushing himself hard these days, maybe a little too hard; with three of his friends vanishing all in the span of a few weeks, Konstantin has been focusing on keeping busy and that often means physically. Perhaps that's yet another reason he was so quick to set out with Arilanna.
...But there are reminders that he's still ill in ways the Old Bear can't quite help him with. That his body is still wrong. When they sit down to camp and rest in the cavern, Konstantin's beginning to really feel it, casually waving off any food or drink with a smile, maintaining normalcy as much as he can. It lasts until it doesn't, until he can't pretend anymore, and there's a sweeping rush of nausea, slick and unpleasant in his throat.
He excuses himself less gracefully than he means to, with a sharp, shuddering breath and a stagger that has him unsteady on his feet. Before anything else can be said he's gone, slipping out from the safety of the cave and its warm firelight and back out into the expanse of openness.
The thing's restless. He can't read it the way he could back home; their tether is broken here, but he can tell by its fitful movements, spasms and squirms in his gut. Maybe it's agitated by the journey, the cold, and all the ways he's been pushing his body — its nest — these days. It shouldn't be hungry; he fed it before he left, and he has food for it now, too, kept in a thermos. But it shouldn't need to eat again for a few days.
....He hopes. He can never know for sure, not for something that's such an unknown as this. But over time, he's learned more of the thing's habits, and it's settled into something of a routine in this place. It's learned how to cohabitate with humans, to some degree. It knows not to hurt just anyone. He doesn't think it would hurt Tayrey; it has no reason to. He wouldn't have come out here alone with her if he thought there was even a small chance of the thing harming her. And it wouldn't evict itself out here in the middle of this biting wind... Leaving his body now could be a death sentence for the creature, who is reduced to its more larval states in this world; it's too intelligent and programmed for survival to do such a thing, right?
But it's clearly unhappy, and his body reacts poorly to its internal conflict. Konstantin shudders as he doubles over suddenly, one arm wrapped around his middle, gloved fingers grasping the material of his thick, warm coat. His throat convulses with movement, but nothing comes up, not yet. He shuts his eyes tightly, tries to breathe through it, in and out. But as in control of himself as he'd like to still claim that he is, the cosmonaut can't escape the lack of true control when it comes to his body's passenger, and as it sends another coiling wave of ache through him, he gives a soft cry of pain that he doesn't quite manage to stifle, complexion feverish and pale, clammy. ]
no subject
(There’s a reason that line tends to be populated by smaller ships. There’s a reason why recently-qualified Tayrey is second astrogator running her own shift, and not somebody’s assistant on a ship three times the size.)
Commander Veshnyakov’s company is, as she expressed to him, very welcome. The miles pass by far more quickly with somebody to talk to. He lets her talk about the Tradelines, and she’s able to speak of the ship and the people she left behind without falling into the melancholy of the stranded spacer. And Tayrey talks a lot. She talks about Chernova and Lowell as if they were only a shuttle ride away, and eager to meet him. She talks about enormous forested planets and dingy space station bars, shining Company Towers and the indescribable colors of L-space, in dimensions no planetsider has ever witnessed.
When she’s not talking, Tayrey sings. Her own songs, or snippets of Konstantin’s, copied, until she’s breathless from the exertion of it and has to walk in companionable silence a while. The sled isn’t as heavily laden as it could be, and she feels stronger here than she did shipside, these days. At first, she’d felt awful, as if suffering from some sickness. Her explanation for it is that there must be something odd in the atmospheric composition, which her body has now adapted to. The hard truth – that her genetic advantages were dampened upon arrival, and that the Old Bear had granted her that old capacity, and more besides – Arilanna Tayrey would never believe, were she told it. Regardless, she has the endurance to manage the sled and its cargo. She judged well.
Nights are easier with Konstantin, too. What would be utterly scandalous in ordinary circumstances is fully permissible on expedition, no need for separate shelters. She feels safe, in that little cave, noise and light to keep away opportunistic creatures, and the agreement of watch hours. She could never sleep well, alone, and this environment makes it worse. No comforting hum of starship engines, but alien rustles and squawks and howls far off in the distance.
The fire flickers. It still feels an extravagance to her, burning paper, but she has to take the rationalist view. This isn’t her sector, where paper books are rare and precious antiques. They’re everywhere. She has collected enough of her own to amass a fortune back home, but here they are worthless. Supply and demand.
She’s about to tell Konstantin the story of the slow ships of Kishar when he stands, suddenly, unsteadily, and hurries out into the cold. At first, she doesn’t react, nothing beyond a flicker of her gaze towards the mouth of the cave. He wouldn’t thank her for following after him if it’s a matter of hygiene! She values privacy and discretion highly, after all.
So Tayrey waits, holding up her hands, seeing the light of the flames reflected on her fingers. She waits, until she starts to feel concern – and then she hears that cry of pain, and she can’t ignore it. There’s discretion, and then there’s plain lack of care. She’s on her feet, rushing out into the snow, where she sees him bent double, a feverish sheen to his brow. ]
Commander.
[ She’s at his side, one arm across his back, all support and reassurance. ]
Commander, you aren’t well. Come inside, I’ll get the medkit.
[ The medkit that is pitifully stocked by her standards, alien medicines scavenged and traded, substances she’d need chemical formulae to identify. Her mind leaps to the worst scenario. Abort the journey, leave the cargo in the cave, let him sit atop the sled and get back to Milton as fast as she can.
She could do it.
It would still take days.
Tayrey doesn’t let that fear show. If he’s sick, then more than ever he needs her to be steady. ]
cw: Emeto Things involving blood
But in the next beat comes a flash of horror through that realisation, as she's leaning in close, offering him support and care. A quick sweep of guilt flooding in, because letting himself rely on her like this is selfish, and Konstantin knows it, has known it from the moment he volunteered to accompany her out here. How many times has he assumed the thought he'd be fine, safe, and been proven wrong? How many times has this very world itself thrown a wrench right into any ounce of stability that he might have achieved, even with his alien passenger? This place can manipulate itself any second. It could even force the thing out of him.
....But the alternative is to hide away, to not do anything, to play it safe. And he's done that for a very long time, for too long since his arrival in Milton. He's tired of living that way; it's not him.
But is this the alternative? Not playing it safe, making these treks and trying to do some good, and putting other people in potential danger in the process? (Konstantin knows what the best thing to do is; after nearly two years in this place he's no stranger to the concept. He should have told Tayrey about his situation before he agreed to join her like this. Even now, he still keeps too many secrets. He should have told this entire community, but that could put him in danger, and— what's the best thing here? Who does he choose to protect? Himself, or everyone else around him?)
Selfishly, shamefully, he knows he's been afraid of the inevitable day that the young lieutenant finds out. Because there's always a risk he'll lose someone when they learn what's wrong with him, and he wants to keep her. He can't accept the concept of losing anyone else that his heart has become attached to.
Maybe this will pass soon. These spells can range from mild to intense; maybe he can push through this one. He shouldn't assume the absolute worst to begin with despite the unpleasant pounding of his heart, a mix of kneejerk fear through the adrenaline rush. He's nodding at Tayrey's words, turning into her guidance, offering a breathless attempt at a laugh as he reaches up with his other hand to give her shoulder a grateful pat. But even he can feel that the gesture's weak and shaky, hand trembling. ]
I'm so sorry about this, lieutenant. I might have been overdoing it lately. Feeling a little dizzy.
[ He starts moving back with her, embarrassed and ashamed to be seen like this, so weak, so pathetic, trying to shrug it off as though it's not a big deal. It's fine, it's fine, it's— suddenly he's stumbling as a flood of vertigo knocks him sideways. He feels himself tip into her without meaning to, tries to find his weight again and stand upright but his head's a dizzy whirlwind and his body feels so sick. Suddenly Konstantin's dry-heaving again, doubling over, one hand clamped to his mouth around a moan of pain.
He tries to pull away, to turn away from her, shaking in a fresh cold sweat. He can feel it coming — fast and abrupt, and then his hand's jerking away from his mouth as he vomits out onto the snow. What comes is red: blood from what he'd fed the creature before, what it hasn't yet digested. ]