singillatim | bury your doubts and fall asleep

bury your doubts and fall asleep

SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: ENOLA’S VISIT : Rather than visiting in dreams, Enola appears to the Interlopers with a warning, and another offering of help.

PROMPT TWO — THE AURORA: KICKBACK Following Enola’s visit and the dream where Interlopers can gain a new ability, the Darkwalker bites back.

PROMPT THREE — AS THE DEAD SLEEP: In the dying world of the Quiet Apocalypse, Interlopers are driven to lay a part of themselves to rest.

PROMPT FOUR — SIGNAL VOID: The radios fixed up by Marra and given to Interlopers lead to unexpected finds in the Northern Territories.

THE AURORA: ENOLA'S VISIT

WHEN: September 21st.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; dreams involving animal death; dreams involving fire/being burned alive.

In the late afternoon, when the sky is still light, you hear the telltale signs of an Aurora. The endless hum, punctuated by cracks that echo across the air. There’s the strange ethereal shrill sounds made by no instrument known to man, faint at first but growing louder. As you look towards the skies, you can see the faint swirl of colours in the daylight. The electricity of the world comes to life, flickering and sparking erratically.

As the day shifts into evening and the skies darken, those colours in the sky begin to brighten: purples, pinks, red, greens and yellows — an abstract painting of colour and light that paints the sky brighter than any day, so bright the stars look like ghosts. The Aurora has come, and Interlopers settle in for a long night of noise and light.

Whenever you find yourself alone, she will come to you. You might be out in town, you might be sat in your cabin by the fire. You are alone and in a blink, she’s standing with you: a woman dressed in furs, one side of her face blackened and withered, the eye missing. Her remaining blue eye is bloodshot and exhausted. Her hands are caked in blood, old and new. She is dishevelled. Enola has seen better days, but she stands proud as she stares at you.

If you have spoken to, or seen Enola before — she greets you warmly like an old friend. If this is your first time seeing or speaking with Enola, she introduces herself: My name is Enola, I’m one of you. I’m here to help.

“Time is running out.” she tells you. “Things are changing. You’ve probably seen it, felt it. How the wildlife shifts, how the winters never end, how the world trembles.”

While prevalent long before Interlopers ever came to the Northern Territories, the seismic activity in the world has been a staple in recent times.

“Caged animals grow restless.” She’ll take a moment to walk around you, looking around with interest: examining homes of their contents, or taking a moment to appreciate the lush green trees. She takes genuine enjoyment out of it, smiling softly.

“I can still help.” she says suddenly, looking up at you. “I’ve seen you use your gifts well, learn how to control them. You learn so quickly. But more of you keep arriving, and this world keeps growing colder and crueller.”

She looks above you, or towards a window if you’re outside. She is silent for a long time.

“It was never supposed to be like this.” her voice is soft, sad. You notice there are tears in her eyes.

“Sleep, and it will come to you. If you choose for it.”

In an instant, she is gone. But when you go to sleep that night, a dream may come to you.

MOON TOUCHED: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of running through the silent woods at night. The moon is full above you, the air is calm and still. Hunger draws you forward, everything is so sharp and vivid in your senses, even in this dreamscape. You hear the crispness of the snow beneath your feet, smell the scent of the pines on the air, feel how warm you are against the coldness around you.

The snuffling of a rabbit catches your attention, and you swiftly leap after it, jaws opening and closing around its neck as you capture it. You bite down hard, feeling the crunch of its bones as they break, the sweet coppery taste of blood filling your mouth and nose. You lift your head towards the stars, blood on your tongue. You realise you are not a person at all, but a beast on all fours: a wolf, content and filling your belly with meat.

You wonder, for a brief moment: were you ever a person at all?

You do not know the answer to the question. You do not seem to worry about such a thing but there’s a flash of warning on the air. Something you cannot quite place, but you know that you should not forget it.

When you awaken, you feel… different, somehow. Everything seems a little sharper, as if the world around you had been dull, or behind some pane of frosted glass. With it comes a strange balance of calmness and chaos, tameness and wildness, fear and bravery. You find yourself looking for the moon in the skies and when you finally find it, it hits you — this is what it means to be Moon Touched.

LIGHT BRINGER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of sitting by a lonely campfire in the mouth of a cave at night, warming your hands. As you sit, a strange feeling comes over you, a desire to reach out to the flames. And so you do, reaching with both hands into the fire — gripping at the white-hot embers. It burns you, and for a moment there is blinding hot pain as the fire suddenly explodes around you, consuming you whole. But the pain soon stops. The fire doesn’t burn you. No, you have become the blaze — your body warmed. You burn bright enough that the darkness around you turns into day.

When you awaken the next morning, you feel warmed and comfortable. As if even the coldest of winters couldn’t reach your bones. The warmth remains even when the Aurora ends, and you are left with the innate understanding:you are the Lightbringer. The power of flame is at your very fingertips. You master the light, life, warmth.

AURORA CALL: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are standing in the very sky itself, at the Aurora’s height. Colour and sound twirls around you, within you — and you feel it curl into your body. Your head fills with noise, a chorus of voices calling out, snippets of conversation echoing within you. Enola’s voice calls to you: “Don’t you understand it now? We are all connected. The Aurora connects us.”

And you do, you do understand it.

When you awaken, you feel connected to the world around you. To the very people who live amongst you. You feel less lonely, a kind of kinship with others. You have heard the Aurora’s Call and you have answered it, unlocked a connection with your fellow Interlopers. You will be heard.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

THE AURORA: KICKBACK

WHEN: September 22nd.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of violence; supernatural weather/altered environments; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.

When you awaken the next morning, the sky is impossibly dark. There is no daylight, there is only endless night. No moon, no stars, no sun. The sky is empty. A void. Just the darkness and the green gloom — the telltale sign of what is to come: the Darkwalker.

You awaken and the cold fear washes over you; a vice-like grip on your throat, squeezing, choking. The air is heavy, oppressive: fear, anxiety, anger. The day is eerily still, and even as you try to go about your day — you know something is coming, your instincts tell you as much.

And you’re right: the ancient, impossible voice finally crawls into your ear.

“The First is desperate.” the Darkwalker sneers.”Look at how she tries to protect her precious brethren. Arms you for a world that you were never meant to be in: the interloper in nature’s design.”

The earth shudders beneath you, things begin to shake and tremble around you.

“I am not some weak, powerless thing.” The Darkwalker tells you. “Even if I am bound, I am inevitable and so very hungry. The table is laid, and I will have my fill — as it is meant to be.”

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic — breaking off into dark laughter. The earth shudders again.

“I will break you down from within, and if I cannot — I will break you down by one another’s hands once more. I am the Rot within you.”

Above you, white-hot green lightning streaks across the skies like cracks — impossibly bright. Something shifts within you, a growing tension. The anger within you builds. A familiar sensation for some: a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within.

It is not the first time the Darkwalker has done this. Many remember only too well the Summer Solstice of last year. By now, many wear talismans crafted to ward off the Darkwalker’s influence. But not everyone, and the Darkwalker’s influence is stronger now. From the dark, the anger within you becomes too much. The tension finally snaps with another crackle of lighting across the skies — and in the flash of it for a brief moment: the giant three-headed wolf skull, eyes glowing sickly green.

Another night of violence is upon the Interlopers: a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?

Chaos erupts once more.

But there is noise above you this time, a furious unseen battle. The skies are not just empty and green, but a furious blaze of light of the Aurora streaks across the skies. Enola is grasping for control, and there are sounds of pain — as she tries to end the madness.

“Leave them be, Devourer.” Enola’s voice booms across the air like the cracking of ice of a frozen lake.

As Interlopers fall to chaos and madness with fists, weapons and words: Enola and the Darkwalker battle against one another. The skies flash violently with green streaks of lightning and the sharp colours of the Aurora: a frightening sight and it’s almost impossible to truly describe the sights before you — should you have a moment to look up.

Hide, or fight. Survive.

The night is long. The fight above you goes on for hours, and ends with a tearing of the skies and the world snaps to normal. You hear a gasp of pain from Enola, then nothing. The air is silent and clear above, but blood may have already been spilled below.

AS THE DEAD SLEEP

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation; themes of loss; themes of grief; themes of death; themes of catharsis.

In the Quiet Apocalypse, it is easy to see the world sitting on the long road of the End of Things. Everything must end, that is part of nature. All things begin and all things end. So many Interlopers have been ripped from their worlds, often in the midst of crisis, trouble or change. And with it comes a pause, something left unfinished. The end has not been completed.

It is a notion that greets you when you awaken one morning. A compulsion. An itch. One might try to press it down, ignore it as much as you can. But the longer it is ignored, the more the feeling becomes. You go about your business and the feeling grows: a blooming sensation in your chest and the innate understanding: all things must end. It is a desperate, lonely feeling.

Perhaps it is not the end of you, but the end of something else. A life, a friendship, a loved one. Perhaps something left unsaid, something left undone. Whatever it is, you find yourself thinking of it constantly, even when you particularly don’t want to. It feels… wrong, to leave such a thing unfinished. To keep putting such a thing off feels unnatural. And that feeling inside of you comes almost too much to bear.

Whatever it is, you must put it to rest.

For Interlopers, a different destination will come to them. They may wish to go out into the wilds. Others may wish to go to the Church in Milton, or at Silverpoint. Some may wish to travel to the edge of the ravine, or even to some part of Lakeside. Some may wish to stand on the edges of the ice upon the seas at the Coast. Whatever or wherever they feel they need to get to — a distance will need to be covered, to find somewhere quiet and alone. They will prepare themselves for the journey and leave to go on to put something, whatever it may be, to rest. To say goodbye.

And so you walk, through the snow and wind, your thoughts occupied. You must say goodbye, you must bury something, you must finish what needs to be finished. But… other thoughts mingle within your own. You cannot recall where they come from, but they feel like yours, somehow. Like something deep down within your spirit, pooling out from it and drifting into your mind. Soft prayers, hushed apologies — even if the words are not your own, they have never felt truer. They weigh upon you, so heavy despite their softness:

… The night was so bright, too bright to count the stars. We forgot about them. … And yet it was a bitter and empty place. Did you truly know, somehow?

Did who know? Did they know what? There are so many questions, but you cannot seem to find the answers to them. It is a quiet agony. There are more thoughts:

… I could not go. I would not. Why couldn't you hold out? Why couldn't I let go?

Who’s thoughts are these? Even if they are not your own, they seem to make sense, somehow. Perhaps you piece things together, make them your own thoughts. Perhaps there was something you could not let go of. Perhaps there was someone who could not hold on. Perhaps there you were stubborn, too stubborn.

… The world falling away. The lights, they used to go on. Please forgive me.

The final words linger within you as you finally come to a stop. Here. This is where you must stop. Here you will lay it to rest. Your hands reach for the snow, fingers clawing into the frozen white. Perhaps you wish to lay it beneath the ice. You prepare. Perhaps it is an item you bury, some small token that represents what it is you wish to finish. Perhaps you are drawn to write something down: a name, a secret, an apology. Or perhaps you simply wish to make some kind of symbolic grave: decorated with stones and even crafting some kind of marker for it.

You will not stop until it is done, even if the day grows darker and colder. You will work until you have finished it. If others have come with you, you will feel compelled to unburden yourself of this loss, this thing you must finally put to bed. You do not have to be alone in saying goodbye.

And when it is done, you feel lighter, somehow. Forgiven, perhaps. As if the very thing that has weighed down so terribly upon you has lessened, eased. Things feel right once more.

As the dead sleep, you are here and alive — for now.

SIGNAL VOID

WHEN: Aurora nights; the month of September, onwards.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival/exploration; potentially dangerous situations; altered wildlife; wild animal attacks; potential character injuries; potential maiming; potential character death.

In July, Interlopers who tackled the Cannery and fought against the Timberwolves that had made their home there managed to recover some shortwave radios. These radios were given to Marra, who has managed to get these devices working again despite the Aurora’s effects on electronics.

No one can say for sure how Marra has managed to do this, much like how she manages to ensure the lighthouse works at all times. Even her own answers have proved insufficient, but she cannot even explain it herself: for some reason I can keep this place going. I'm in here and the light still shines, and I don't know why.

Having been returned to Interlopers via Molly at the Frozen Angler, Interlopers across the Northern Territories will have access to these tools. While not enough for everyone to have one each, Interlopers will need to share the radios as they navigate the world. The radios don’t work like regular walkie-talkies, but will work by using them to send morse code messages — like how telegrams work. But in the month of September, during Aurora nights, these radios start picking up strange signals.

The signal seems to appear on the radios like some kind of radar, with the screen lighting up and flashing, and a beeping sound emitting from the radio. Following the flashing and beeping on the radios, Interlopers will find that they are being led to something — with the lights and sounds increasing in frequency and intensity the closer they get.

The signals will lead Interlopers to bunkers, buried in the snow. Interlopers will need to dig through the snow to reach the door, and the doors themselves will be heavy and difficult to open. Inside, Interlopers will find a shelter that has been carved into the earth, and modest caches of stocks that have been lost to time: food, water, medical supplies, tools, books, weapons. It looks as if these bunkers were created as places of protection in the event of some kind of nuclear war, or some kind of apocalypse prepper — clearly a great deal of work has gone into crafting these places.

However there are certain dangers when it comes to traversing the world during the Aurora. Wildlife tends to become more volatile during these nights, and will actively seek out Interlopers who are out in the wilds following the signals on their radios. Packs of wolves, solitary wolves or even bears and wild cats can be found stalking after Interlopers who may be out.

The threat of these predators is high, and they will actively attack Interlopers. But it’s worth the risk of more supplies: the endless night is on the way as the daylight hours grow thin and bitter winter draws in.

But it is not just these bunkers that the radios reveal: in addition, another signal is being broadcast. One that may be familiar to some Interlopers. A broken message from last year, recorded in the diary of a firewatcher:

- .... .. ... / .. ... / --- .--. . .-. .- - .. ...- . / -... . .- .-. --- .- -.- .-.-.- / .--. .-. --- .--- . -.-. - / .-- .. -. - . .-. -- ..- - . / -.. --- .-- -. .-.-.- / -.. .- -. --. . .-. ---... / .- ..- .-. --- .-. .- / .. -. ... - .- -... .. .-.. .. - -.-- .-.-.- / -.-. --- -- . / .- - / --- -. -.-. . .-.-.-

FAQs

THE AURORA: ENOLA'S VISIT

1. Aurora Feats are unlocked! For this round, RNG picked Lightbringer, Moon Touched and Aurora Call.

2. Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

3. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Event. The only time this is available is this month. After September, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

THE AURORA: KICKBACK

1. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Other NPCs, especially named ones (ie. Methuselah, Molly, Marra, etc.), are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!

2. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.

3. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way, ~~saving them with the power of love/friendship~~. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.

4. Interlopers with the Darkwalker's Revenge Feat will be incredibly energised by the Darkwalker's influence on the world and feel at their physical peak. They will also be more susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence to be violent, meaning it will take extra work to break them out from the Darkwalker's hold.

5. Interlopers with warding talismans anointed with Interloper blood will be the least susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence to be violent, but can still be influenced eventually as the night goes on — especially if they have any grudges or interpersonal issues going on.

6. Interlopers who have natural penchants for violence or darker impulses will also be more susceptible to the Darkwalker's influence.

AS THE DEAD SLEEP

1. Items don't have to just be buried, they could also be burned, or sunk into a body of water.

2. It doesn't have to be a specific item, but could be something symbolic of the thing that the Interloper wants to 'put to rest'.

SIGNAL VOID

1. There are six bunkers in the world to be found. Two in the Milton region, two in the Lakeside region, and two in The Coast region.

2. The morse code message cannot be replied to as of yet.

3. The firewatcher refers to the Diary of Sam Bouchard, which can be read here.

PLOTTING POST

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At first, it had felt like the right thing to do after the night of Darkwalker and Enola's fight; James needed to return to Milton and Lakeside to check in on others, unsure of who might've been hurt--or worse--during the violence of that night. But although that motive and desire were the initiating reason for his return, after only a day of traveling James began to feel something else. A strange, deep pull, yet a hollowness. A melancholy, and thoughts he's been attempting to ignore for months now.

He doesn't know exactly where it's taking him, but the edge of the basin is certainly not his destination. Still, he passes by, and in doing so something catches his eye; it takes a moment to realize it's a person, and a moment longer to place the person's identity.

James should just ignore him. He should just continue. But something is urging him to reach out, to speak of these strange feelings, and although he resists--he has no interest in talking about what's weighing on him, at least not specifically--after a moment he does finally venture a guess--

"Do you feel it as well?"

Fitzjames isn’t exactly the sort of person Hickey wants to have a feelings jam with. The two are alike in plenty of irritating ways, but Cornelius ‘introspection is for losers’ Hickey has been trying his hardest to ignore the similarities. Because the more he focuses on it, the more pathetic he feels. Rank doesn’t mean shit, titles don’t mean anything…but the commander of HMS Erebus gets some perks that the caulker’s mate of HMS Terror will never actually see.

That rankles him a bit.

But now’s not the time to air those grievances, not when Hickey is feeling so off. So at James’s question, Hickey nods.

“I do.” There’s a moment as he looks everything over, deciding what to say, before hesitantly starting with, “I’ve got potential, y’know? I know it. People here know it. So why the fuck doesn’t any one of importance see it?”

James is expecting Hickey to respond with a snarky comment at best, and something mocking or dismissive at worst, but he doesn't do either. Instead he sounds... Almost like he's being honest, and not only that, but vulnerably so.

And so James holds back on his own urge to respond derisively, as is often the urge when he speaks to Hickey. Instead, he neither affirms nor disagrees with Hickey's statement about his potential, and focuses only on the last part. "Who do you consider to be of importance?"

It's obvious that Hickey doesn't want to talk about this. Every word is pulled out of him like a splinter from a body or a porcupine quill from an animal that got a little too close. And yet, he's talking about it anyway. The words are slow, hesitant, but they're still coming.

"Tuunbaq. The Darkwalker. That bear here."

That's not it. That's barely it. That doesn't include the person who started this all, the man who's affection and importance and mere glance, mere hint of acknowledgement you craved when the expedition started, you craved from the moment he invited you in for a drink and still lingered though he tried to beat it out of you.

The word comes out like dislodging something stuck in his throat but, due to the nature of this place, the magic they are under, Hickey admits,

"Crozier."

Right. The monsters. Of course Hickey would be vying for the attention of creatures that may or may not be supernatural in some way, but are certainly powerful, otherworldly in some sense. For someone so unwilling to conform to authority in general, beings that aren't even human would of course be--

And then there's that last part.

It shouldn't really come as a shock, but it still does, to an extent. Less that Hickey had ever been vying for Francis' approval--that much had been obvious, both due to being present when everything had taken the initial turn for the worse and because the need to impress and gain attention from authority is something James is entirely familiar with--but that it's still weighing on him now, rather than something long past.

"Hadn't you long since decided him to be unworthy of both respect and authority?" There's only a hint of disapproval in his tone as he asks, still attempting to keep it in check, though the topic is far too sensitive to make that an easy task.

"Authority, yeah. He was never the boss of me."

Not even on Terror. Hickey knew that you could work under a man and still not respect him. Considering how he flouted rules and regulations whenever possible, that much was obvious. He didn't really view any of the officers on Terror as an authority. He simply obeyed them because it was most convenient to do so.

"But you can still crave respect, admiration, attention from someone who's not your boss. You know that much yourself."

Even before this place dragged a few secrets about Fitzjames's parentage out of him, he saw him around the men. He saw him at Carnivale, leading the charge, setting everything up for the men, positioning himself in the center of the games. Lord knows Fitzjames probably wanted that attention, that acknowledgement as much as he had.

James allows the faintest hint of displeasure to cross his expression at Hickey's last remark, because not only is it true, he knows he has no real chance of denying it at this point. Even putting aside everything from their world, he's done enough since arriving here to make his desire to get along with--and by extension, earn the approval of--others here. That he's speaking with Hickey right now is evidence enough of it, vaguely supernatural inclinations aside.

"Perhaps. But one doesn't typically go about earning such things by disrespecting the person whose favor they desire." Disrespecting Francis' authority while hoping to be respected in return certainly isn't the best tactic to take, although James is pointedly ignoring that he'd also done the same thing occasionally.

"He disrespected me first," Hickey snaps. "When I brought that Eskimo girl over, I did it for him. I was saving our lives, you know? She could talk to that bear, control it, who knew what sort of mischief she and it would cause. We bloody well killed her dad, of course they'd want revenge!"

Though Hickey continues with his justifications, that first sentence says more than he wants to admit. He disrespected me first—it's laced with venom, laced with tension. He gave Crozier a gift. He showed Crozier his potential, how he could be trusted, how he could help. And what was he given in return? A punishment, as a boy.

It's obvious from Hickey's words, from the way his tone darkens and hardens, that the punishment meant a lot more to him than he wants to admit.

"Everything after was when I knew pleasing Crozier was useless. Being on his side was useless. He would acknowledge me in a different way but acknowledge me still."

Logically, James could argue; he has an argument ready immediately, actually, prepared to fire back that Hickey wasn't disrespected first, he went against orders and left the ship, and then argued with his commanding officer about it. That had been what started it.

But he doesn't argue, and this time it isn't just out of an attempt to remain civil. It's partially the effects of this place--the complex, tangled issues he needs to put to words and then put to rest--but it isn't entirely that; James doesn't need a supernatural compulsion to understand why Hickey feels the way he does, at least about this particular part of it. Disagreement about the origin of the issue aside, James hadn't exactly been delighted with the way it had been handled, and he distinctly remembers how distressing it had been to witness the punishment, let alone to have been the one receiving it.

It had been one of many things James had ignored after Francis had gone sober, after their relationship had improved, and after his perspective and priorities had changed. It had been easy enough to say that Francis was different now, and to put everything behind them, and James had maintained that attitude and loyalty in this place as well. It's only recently, now that Francis is gone and has been for months, that some of those repressed thoughts and feelings had returned, melding with the incredibly difficult and complicated situation that had arisen here.

A part of him is so angry with Francis, for dying, for how he'd chosen to spend his time here, ~~for replacing him~~ for how much time had been wasted during the Expedition, and so much more. And so, a part of him understands how Hickey held onto that resentment of his own, how it could've deepened into the... Is hatred even the right word? Whatever it is, or was, it makes sense, and so does how it could coincide with still desperately seeking Francis' attention, his approval.

The magic of this place is, however, mostly what keeps James from simply repressing those thoughts once again as he recognizes them, and as he recognizes the parallels. He doesn't like that he empathizes with Hickey. He doesn't like that he's understanding him more and more. He doesn't like that, if he's truly honest, perhaps he shares at least shades of the same feelings.

"And yet he never did." It isn't mocking, or taunting, just tired. Hickey hadn't gotten what he'd wanted--he'd said as much before, in including Francis in the list of those who didn't recognize his importance--and, although what James had wanted hadn't been quite the same, he hadn't really gotten it either.

Hickey is still tense, still bristling with anger, with rage, with complete aggravation at how unjust the situation was. Because Fitzjames is right. He never did. Even here, even this changed Crozier never saw Hickey as more than the sum of his parts. There was only one man on that ship worthy of his attention, his affection, his friendship, and he never even thought of reciprocating that.

And yet, a little voice in the back of Hickey's head points out, there was Billy. The two of them could be...strained at times, back on Terror, but they weren't on Terror were they. They are here. Billy is here. And Billy's not dead. There's not really one person worthy of his affections here. He's got mates. Billy, Chloe, Raylan, people who he can spend time with, who's company he enjoys. He should forget about that old man, forget about being disrespected by a ghost, and move on with his life.

So why can't he?

Hickey doesn't need to acknowledge what Fitzjames says—they both know he's right. Crozier never acknowledged him. "I should forget about that man," Hickey says, though through the bitterness of his voice, there's a hint of him trying to convince himself that he's right. "Bugger Crozier. What'd he ever do for either of us, yeah? He left both of us out to dry—only decided to be an actual leader when we ran out of drink. If they had more spirits on Terror, he'd have only killed us all faster. Bugger the captain! He never wanted nothing from me anyway!"

Even when being more honest with himself, James isn't quite willing to blame Francis to the extent that Hickey is. He can't exactly disagree; if there had been more of Francis' preferred alcohol available, if Blanky hadn't been so badly hurt during Tuunbaq's attack, and if everything hadn't all come together at exactly the same time, who knows what might've happened.

But that hadn't been the situation, and Francis had stopped drinking, even though it could've killed him. And yet Hickey isn't wrong; he did only decide to become a leader so, so late. But if he hadn't, and he'd changed earlier, what would that have done? Could a sober Francis have accomplished anything that a drunk Francis hadn't?

They've all made their mistakes. And they've continued to do so.

"We were all too late." He says it almost without thinking, something partially from emotion and partially due to this place's effects. It's something that's been on his mind, not only in the sense of mistakes made during the Expedition--and they had all made so many mistakes, even those who had the best intentions--but after. James has made so many mistakes, he's chosen to act too late, he's held onto fear and jealousy and hurt and it's cost him and others around him so much.

And it seems Hickey has too.

Part of Hickey wants to point out that Fitzjames was too late, not him...but he has to admit, he was a little too late. Holding onto feelings that he should have shed ages ago, trying to gain favor that he knew he would never get, he's spent too much time and effort on things that don't matter.

He looks over the edge, looking down at the drop to the basin. And then Hickey gets down on his knees, returning to digging in the snow. This conversation has been useful. This conversation is unlocking things he didn't know were locked. But at the same time, Hickey knows he has to bury this, he knows he has to actually bury the item to put these feelings to rest.

"Nothing we can do about that lateness," he points out, fingers digging in the snow, trying to dig through the frozen ground. "Might as well just keep going." Only forward.

When Hickey looks over the edge and then moves, for a brief moment James wonders if he's going to do something stupid, and he takes a half step forward before realizing he's just... Well, James isn't entirely sure what he's doing, other than apparently attempting to dig into the ground with just his hands.

"Through the ground?" He asks it with a hint of humor, but only barely; that actual question--what are you doing--is likely obvious enough, as he moves slightly closer to see if there's something obvious Hickey might be digging for.

This is going to sound insane, but Hickey says it anyway. "Need to bury it. All of this will be better, be purged once I do that."

It doesn't make sense, it's objectively a weird thing to say, but Hickey's learned to follow his weird impulses and his odd feelings in this place. They usually turn out right in the end. After a few moments, he has a hole that's big enough to fit an apple. Reaching into his pocket, Hickey pulls out a small scrap of fabric, navy blue, before putting it in the hole. There's only a moment's pause before Hickey starts to move the dirt, the snow, back on top of the buried scrap of fabric.

"There we go. That'll fix it."

It does sound a little insane, or at least it would after all his time in this place. After seeing--and experiencing--people gaining supernatural powers, after getting trapped in a cave that would only show its exit after revealing a secret, after incorporeal colored threads and ghost bears countless other things, this is hardly all that strange.

James doesn't know what the scrap of fabric is, just that its color gives some indication it may be part of a uniform, but ultimately who knows. Who knows what meaning it holds for Hickey, or how it may resolve things, but James decides not to ask because at the same time that all these questions run through his mind he has the strange sense that he doesn't need to ask. He doesn't need to ask because he feels it too, the same strange sense of a need to put something to rest.

But for him, here isn't the right place. He can feel that more strongly now, can sense that to do the same thing that Hickey has just done, he needs to go elsewhere. And, in a strange sense of finality and dread, he thinks he knows exactly where to go.

"I've further to travel." He states it not as an invitation, but not as a dismissal either. He has to continue on, but strangely, despite that he would never normally have any real desire for Hickey to accompany him, there's still that near-compulsion to share this. Or, perhaps, it's more just a need to not be alone.

Hickey can feel something settle in him. He's still restless—but then again, he'll always be restless. But a certainty settles in his chest that he's never felt before. None of them would matter. Crozier, that bear, the Darkwalker, none of them ever gave him the time of day. So best to focus on the here and now, best to focus on people who are here, who are by him, who actually give a damn. The rejection still pricks at the back of his mind, but it aches like an old scar occasionally aches, not the fresh bleeding wound it once was.

Hickey stands up, stretching slightly like a lizard in the sun while listening to Fitzjames's statement. There's a moment as he thinks things over before he decides. Fitzjames was here with him for this mess. Best for Hickey to be with him when he grapples with whatever he's grappling with. It's equality, yeah? Give and take. An equal playing field.

"Where are we going?" Hickey simply asks. Because it's 'we' here, sorry Fitzjames, somebody's coming on your feelings trip.

Although James hadn't necessarily expected Hickey to want to come along--nosiness and laziness seem to sometimes be in difficult opposition for Hickey, at least from what James can tell--it isn't a surprise when he agrees either. He waits for Hickey to stand, shifting on his own feet slightly, and tilts his head slightly in the direction they'll be going. Milton's outskirts. The forest. The direction that Francis' cabin had--and presumably still--stood.

"Perhaps you can surmise."

He says it slightly dryly, not really with humor, but not necessarily completely lacking in it either. James knows, now, exactly where he's supposed to go, and just how morbid--whether in any way humorously so or not--it is.

Without any further offering he begins in the correct direction, though at no great pace; he can tell he's being drawn this way, and a part of him wants to get it over with, but he also doesn't truly want to go. So, after only a few steps, he speaks up again.

"Did that place have any meaning to you?"

The place they'd just come from, where Hickey had dug the small hole. Had it been chosen on a whim, or did the overlook hold some deeper symbolism for Hickey?

Hickey follows Fitzjames, on his heels like a little dog, as they make their way through the wilds. The question is unexpected. Hickey frowns a little, thinking to himself before musing,

"Not really. I just needed somewhere deep. I couldn't leave that bit out in the open. It needed to be somewhere where nobody could see."

There's a moment before, "I suspect yours is different."

"Yes." It is different. If Hickey hasn't guessed where they're going, he'll surely recognize it when they get there, so there's no point in denying it.

But although he hadn't asked about it earlier, Hickey's answer to James' question prompts him to ask another. "What was it? That you felt the need to hide." Perhaps 'hide' isn't the right term, but with the way Hickey puts it--it needed to be deep, not out in the open, somewhere it couldn't be seen--it's the only description that comes to mind.

There’s an awkward, hesitant, unsure little pause from Hickey’s end. He doesn’t want to talk about this! He doesn’t want to admit to what he hid, as if admitting it will somehow make him less, will make this conversation turn poorly. But at the same time…what are his alternatives? Say nothing? Entirely possible. But Fitzjames will have his own thoughts, his own opinions, his own judgements on the matter. Best to get it all out.

Besides, he takes offense at one of those words used.

“It’s not hiding,” Hickey points out. “It’s burying. I’m taking this and shoving it deep, away from me, so I’ll never have to see or deal with it again.” Bury those feelings, bury those wants, make a clean break so it doesn’t pull you back at the worst possible moment.

“I visited Crozier’s house, after it burned down. Some things were still there, just charred. Tore off a piece of something…a blanket maybe?” There’s a pause before, “Dunno why I did. But that’s what I buried. If I bury that thing, take it out of my mind, it’ll take him out also.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

bury your doubts and fall asleep

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