nature offers a violence

[singmod]

NOVEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — WHITEOUT: Methuselah makes an unexpected early return to Milton to warn Interlopers of an impending monster storm, and boy does it surely come.

PROMPT TWO — A CHOICE: Following the storm, sightings of a mysterious stag prompts a hunt down in the Basin and out in the Outskirts.

PROMPT THREE — REST MY WEARY BONES: While the storm causes a great deal of mess, it also uncovers some far more pleasant surprises. Hot springs.

WHITEOUT

WHEN: Early to mid-month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: extreme weather; storms; blizzards; themes of survival; possible character cold-related injuries; possible themes of peril.


In the times that he is no longer occupying the Community Hall in the center of town to help tend to the newcomers, Methuselah is out in the wilds. Despite his growing age, he is a hardened survivor, and has been more than accustomed to life living as a nomad, out in the thickest, deepest parts of nature. Sometimes he can be encountered, sheltered in a cave or out in the woods, huddled by a warm campfire, or busying himself with his latest game catch. He seems to be always on the move, never staying for too long, and never coming into town — unless it’s to begin preparations for the latest batch of new arrivals.

To see him returning to Milton outside of these times is a curious sight, and the grim expression he carries is enough to make anyone wary. Even his voice is grave. The warmth and kindness usually found in his expression is gone, replaced with a deathly seriousness. He doesn’t speak in jest.

"I am long used to this world and its weather, even with the changing times to more bitter nights." he will say. "I have seen the years rise and fall, too many to count. Please, I beg that you hear me with this— a storm is coming. Greater than some of you may have ever known. It is in the air, and we must prepare to see it through. We do not have much time. Three days, perhaps. But no more."

He will tell anyone and everyone; encouraging the word to be spread around. He will instruct on what needs to be done, what needs to be gathered. The storm will be long and hard, and will last for some time. With that, Methuselah will begin to prepare the Community Hall as a place of refuge with a stock of food, fuel and water to get through the storm. Interlopers will be free to join Methuselah and bunker down together, or can choose to bunker down on their own in their own homes, or with others.

You have only three days.

And sure enough, the storm comes. Maybe you can notice the signs too: the sudden updraft, the slow gathering of clouds, the drop in temperature, the changes of pressure in the air.

Halfway through the third day, the storm rolls in: a ferocious snow-storm unlike anything you’ve seen before. Even with the fading amount of daylight as mid-winter approaches, the sky turns as dark as night as will stay like night for the duration. Strong howling winds batter the town, and even the sturdiest of buildings creak and groan under the weight. Trees will be felled, some buildings might not fare the storm.

Relentless snow that falls so hard it’s a complete whiteout, and will be impossible to navigate if one were to step outside. Even then, it isn’t advisable. The temperature is bitter, with a frigid windchill. Going out in this kind of storm would be a death sentence. Staying out in it for longer than a half-hour will certainly kill you.

It would be best to wait it out, to huddle around warm fires in the darkness. It may certainly be a test of patience, depending on your choice of place to stay. The storm will last a full week, a stark reminder of what you are, the words you have heard in your arrival: thrown to Mother Nature’s mercy, the Interloper in her design.

But will you persist?

A CHOICE

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards to end of month.
WHERE: Milton Basin, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: survival themes; themes of hunting; possible animal death.


After the storm passes, there’s a certain kind of hush that falls upon Milton and its surrounding areas as Interlopers are left to pick through the wake. While the temperature certainly doesn’t get that much warmer, there’s days and nights of clear, calm weather — short afternoons of weak sunshine and nights of chilly peace, the moon hung high in the starry skies. Winter is drawing ever-closer, but it’s still for a little while.

In the early evenings, before the sun sets, there’s strange sightings of a particular white stag that can be found roaming the area — particularly down in the Milton Basin. It seems quite elusive, but there’s plenty of Interlopers that have been able to capture a glimpse over the coming days. Even Methuselah himself has seen this beast before, remarking there has long been tall tales of a ghostly stag that roams the Northern Territories and is said to bring good fortune to those who manage to hunt it down.

Perhaps you’re a little low on luck. Perhaps you’re feeling lucky. You’re going to find that stag.

Hunting down the stag, however, will take a great deal of patience and time. You might find yourself waiting several hours to wait for it to appear. Building a snow shelter, or hunkering down in some old shack might be needed in order to keep warm. But if you’re patient enough, and able to withstand the cold for long enough — the beast will soon make an appearance.

In the dying light of the day, it is there. It’s unlike any deer you’ve seen before: tall and majestic, with thick, soft fur of brilliant white. It almost looks ghost-like in some angles, it’s an incredibly beautiful creature. But it seems to have also noticed you, just as you have noticed it. It doesn’t dart away, however. Instead it stands before you, waiting for you to act.

You have a choice: slay the creature, or let it go.

It will not move until you make your decision, holding your gaze until you raise your weapon or until you lower it and give up your hunt. But there is a consequence to either action: if you choose to kill the stag, you will be rewarded with a sizeable bounty of venison. Eating said meat will help you feel fuller for longer, and the meat will keep for far longer than any other deer slain.

However, if you choose to spare the stag, the creature will lower its head, as if bowing to you. Then, it will disappear with a swirling of powdered snow. When you return home for the evening and go to sleep, the next morning you will find a gift at the foot of your bed: a pair of deerskin boots, or a deerskin blanket. These boots are supple, tough and waterproof — allowing for a great balance of mobility and warmth. The blanket is incredibly toasty, and will provide a great deal of comfort in the long nights ahead.

REST MY WEARY BONES

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards indefinitely.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a.



The storm has blown in plenty of snow to make traversing the area much more difficult, but there’s something else of note that comes with its passing. While the storm has brought much devastation, and some places have been buried in snow drifts, plenty of snow in areas has been blown away, uncovering otherwise lost secrets within Milton. Clouds of what looks like steam can be noted not too far from town, towards the mountains of the north.

If Interlopers head to explore the clouds, they will find old trails leading up towards the mountains. It isn’t a particularly difficult journey, for once, and they will soon discover that the storm has blown away the previously blocked access to a cave. It appears that this is the right place.

The air is warm here, pleasantly so. Warm enough that hats and mittens and coats seem a little unnecessary. One might wonder if someone lives within, and that a great fire is stoked to keep the place warm. But there’s no one in sight, no sounds of life: human, animal or otherwise. If they press on, they will discover that the cave floor is well worn with footfall: plenty of people have come here before, and the reason why is soon revealed.

The air grows even warmer, and more humid. The space opening to reveal small pools of slow-flowing water, warm water. The stone houses a natural hot spring, and following the cave out the other side will lead to another space in the rock open to the air, where there are even larger pools of warm water, perfectly sized and deep enough to bathe in. It seems that this place was frequently used by the people of Milton, where their life of hardship could be forgotten for an hour or two.

The water is pleasantly hot, and incredibly inviting. After so long in the freezing cold without modern appliances and utilities, a natural hot spring sounds like an absolute luxury.

FAQs

WHITEOUT

1. Characters are free to play around with this prompt how they want. Maybe they're dumb enough to go into the cold and get injured or sick. Maybe they're stuck in the Community Hall for the week. Fights might break out as tensions run high whilst everyone's stuck together, or maybe you're actually having a nice time.

2. For those stuck in the Community Hall: there are board games and old school textbooks stored in cupboards. There is also a piano.

3. A floorplan of the Community Hall can be found here.

A CHOICE

1. .... Yes, you can pet the ghost stag.

2. Characters will get one choice only with the ghost stag, meaning they can't keep going back to find it to get extra gifts.

3. If characters can't agree on a course of action, whoever acts first will get their gift. The second character will have a chance to try again another time.

4. If both characters agree on sparing the stag, but players want different gifts (ie. one player wants the boots and one wants the blanket), characters will get the gift the player wants their character to receive.

REST MY WEARY BONES

1. The hot springs will now be a permanent fixture in the Milton Area, enjoy!

PLOTTING POST

Comments

whiteout | closed

[burying]

✞ WHITEOUT — closed to fidior; ployboy; aetherialshackles

[ As the storm rages on, it's hard to completely tell just what time of day it is. The skies seem dark no matter what. But there's a sense of things, at least. A sense of when it's time to eat dinner, as sense of when it might be some kind of evening time. People winding down, or trying to, at least. Settling in for the long and noisy night ahead.

Kieren can't stay here. He can't stay in this room with all of these people. In sleep is the most vulnerable time for anyone. What hope would any of them have if they were all asleep and he changed? If he stopped being Kieren and became the very thing he's terrified of becoming without the Neurotriptyline? The thought of it makes him ill, and he's never felt more like a caged animal in all his life. He can't be here. He has to find somewhere else to go.

The tiny office just off from the doorway has largely remained empty, with the exception of some of the extra storage for the storm not put into the basement. It's not perfect, but it might be enough. Somewhere separate, somewhere he can lock himself away and not be around people. It's cold, far from the fireplace that heats the main area, but he doesn't feel it. He takes a single blanket, and his small backpack with him and slips away (hopefully) unnoticed.

Is it extreme? Maybe. But it's necessary, and he'd never forgive himself if he ever hurt anyone, if he ever killed anyone.

There's a tiny radiator bolted to the wall in the office, and he thinks (and hopes) it might be enough. It's more awkward than the bedpost of his bed in his cabin, but he'll have to try. He pulls a rope from his backpack, holds it in his hands for a long moment until the door to the office opens behind him and Kieren visibly jumps.

He hastily tries to stuff the rope back (and fails) and shuffles back with wide eyes — horrified. He doesn't mean to sound so accusatory, his voice raising in pitch. ]

What you doing!?

[ This looks bad. It also looks like he might be stealing supplies, but he genuinely isn't. ]

[aetherialshackles]

[While Erichthonios hardly has to worry about turning into his true self anytime soon, it's hard when you're not talented in magicks and you're in a world where even the smallest sliver of your powers are taken away, he can understand why someone would move away from the main group of people. He's used to the Pandaemonium, before the end of the world reached them he rarely spent time just doing nothing with his coworkers and despite loving the new board games he's still learning about and chatting about this and that- well, he needed a break.

With everyone still trying to fend off their worried and loneliness in the main halls of the building, Erichthonios moves to the colder and less populated rooms, hoping to have no more than a book for company for a while. He picked yet another guide to local fauna, even if the man has to admit he had seen little creatures beside corvids, wolves and a couple of rabbits. It's all so... alien for him, a man who spent his life between dangerous monsters.

Like another man, he picked a blanket and chose a certain tiny office to spend his time. What he expected was to be cold and enjoy some quiet, just to recover, but no... when he entered another person was already inside. Doing something with a rope and those weird metallic things that are often bolted to many walls. Okay... this is awkward.]

Seeking some peace, that's what I'm doing. And I could ask you the same question.

[Not to mention that- to be so defensive out of nowhere...]

Don't tell me you're up to no good... we shouldn't have people deal with even more problems at the moment.

[He's direct in this, sliding inside and closing the door behind himself. If there's any issue to be had, he'd rather not see anyone else get involved.]

[burying]

I'm not, I swear— [ This isn't what it looks like. ] I'm not here to cause trouble.

[ That is the very last thing he wants. The very reason he's in here is to avoid any sort of trouble. He really wants to not have that happen.

This is very awkward. Kieren's stood looking like a deer in the headlights, frozen on the spot and then suddenly sputtering and unsure what to say or even do with himself. And the other man's closing the door the door behind him and Kieren shakes his head. He's never looked so spooked in all his life. ]

Listen, I'm sorry. You can't be in here, not with me. I have to be in here.

[aetherialshackles]

Aren't you?

[He would be an hypocrite to call the other out for hiding instead of being in the main halls mingling with others, after all the Ancient was trying to do the same and find a little corner of peace after interacting with people for hours, but... he can tell there is something amiss. With the second sentence he does take a small step back. He heard that before, coming from more aetherically attuned people of his kin who knew were about to spawn monsters at their side when their magicks started to go haywire. The fear is there, the need to be alone for what may be a last moment is something he is also familiar with and like any other time... he is not leaving. He is far too familiar with the fear of hurting others.

There is a short moment of silence, hesitation, then he steps closer, trying to offer a smile. Both hands are raised ]

Whatever you think you can do to me, know I was raised between monsters and survived thhe end of my world, I will be fine.

[This is... more than he shared with others, truly, and also a lie by omission because he 'forgot' to mention he didn't survive because he had any magical skill or was stronger than his peer, quite the contrary, but... perhaps that can help reassuring the other. Who hopefully has not seen him failing around town the many times he attempted to do things and plan ahead.]

I am Erich. Do you want to talk about what's going on? I'm sure that whatever it is, we can find a solution.

[burying]

N-no, I swear, I promise I'm not. [ Trouble is the last thing Kieren wants. Being a problem is the last thing he wants to be even though he knows he's one awful, massive problem and there's nothing he can do about it. But the other does step back, relenting, until he steps closer again and Kieren's instinct have him drawing back again — cowed like some cornered wild animal.

He stares. I was raised between monsters and survived the end of my world. Kieren doesn't even know how to react to it, doesn't know what to say. He just stares, unsure whether to believe him. Of course he should. He's a monster himself. And they've been kidnapped and dumped in this place. ]

What kinds of monsters? [ It's quietly asked, before he can help himself. ]

Kieren. [ He remembers what Hickey told him. Although he's certainly doing a piss-poor job of not looking so scared about it all. But the thought of explaining isn't one he's comfortable with, and it shows. Kieren swallows thickly, anxiety prickling uncomfortably in his chest. ]

I have a medical condition. [ He explains carefully. ] This— doing this— keeping myself in here, it's part of how I'm dealing with it. I don't want to be a bother.

[aetherialshackles]

Then I see no problem here!

[He offers a big smile with those words, trying to be as reassuring as possible. Is he a bit frustrated because he hoped to find some free space and respite from the company of too many? Absolutely. Does he recognize that's another person in need and that in such a place it's important to offer support? Of course.

His items are placed down on the side, all beside the blanket, and he approaches with the intent of wrapping it around the other's shoulders for comfort. If he wants to stay there, it's okay, but there is no point in being uncomfortable like that, right?]

Oh, a bit of everything. A giant bird of fire able to warp reality around itself, a big two headed dog that had control over the water of our facility's sewers if left out its enclosement, a giant green creature that was one with poison and crystals... it's mprobably easier for me to list what I have not seen. [Concept about monsters were shared so often and the researcher had the duty of making sure they were treated well.] My mentor was really good at handling them, I will never forget his kindness toward all creatures.

[He nods then, sitting not far from kieren, whether he accepted the blanket or not.]

I see... self containment for what I assume is a very good reason. That's okay. You are okay. I promise I will not tell anyone but... do you want me to help? I could keep company. Or at least secure you in a more comfortable way, it was kind of one of my specialties back home. Just because someone has to be shackled, it doesn't mean it has to be unpleasant, right?

[fidior]

[ Edward's patrols are on a much shorter loop here in the confines of the Community Hall. It hasn't been long since he finished another one.... and things are winding down now, most people seeking out their claimed cots and other sleeping spaces. But he has no plans of tucking in any time soon. He'd gotten a nap earlier, and with the help of coffee and his own prickles of restless energy, the lieutenant plans to stay up through most of the night, as he often does.

He also thinks it might help, if people see a figure of authority keeping watch while they prepare to sleep, knowing he'll diligently keep up the guard. So he moves through the space, checking in on a few people as they tuck in for sleep and then heading through. He moves quietly, so as not to disturb anyone with the heavy step of his boots, poking his head around corners, slipping into rooms. He checks the restrooms as well, to make sure no one is up to anything..... and that's when he notices the door to the nearby office is closed.

...Had it been open, when he'd last made his rounds? He would vow that it had been. It could be that some people have sought refuge in there for the night, but.... it isn't such a typical place to go, given how far it is from the fire.

There's someone in there, he realises as he nears. He can hear movement, and he wastes no time barging right in. It's not with a slam of the door, but it's purposeful enough, shoulders drawn up and tensed, gun against his back as it typically is. He's ready to confront a potential problem—

—and he freezes when he realises who the person inside is. ]

Mr. Walker?

[ It... does look a bit like he's stealing things, yes. Edward stares widely at the boy he's clearly startled, eyes sweeping down to the item Kieren's trying to stuff away. He knows Kieren's nature; he's no ruffian, but... his voice does gain a bit of a stern edge to it. ]

I heard someone in here and came to check. .....What are you doing?

[burying]

Jesus, Edward— [ There's short, awkward beat. God, this feels like being caught by your teacher or something. In his awkwardness, he feels the need to correct himself. ] Lieutenant.

[ It's a mercy it's someone who at least knows Kieren. Someone who, while they might not know the whole truth of him, know enough that Kieren has... problems. Particular issues. Still, Kieren's stuck-still in shock, his eyes wide as he stands back up against the wall with his hands open in a defensive gesture. His half-open backpack (with rope slightly spilling out of it) clutched in one hand.

It's not what it looks like. It's... not a couple of things that it possibly looks like. Kieren cringes, lowering his hands and sort of just... deflates for a long moment. ]

I had to come in here. [ His voice lowers considerably, afraid of anyone else being in earshot. His gaze flicks to the open door a few times and after a long hesitation, he finally decides he can't say it until the door's closed. ] ... Sorry.

[ For what he's about to do: he moves forwards — gently trying to manhandle the other man inside the room and shut the door behind him. God, this is so awkward. ]

[fidior]

[ He does know that Kieren comes with a healthy dose of concerns, and the boy's perpetually on his radar to keep an eye out for. Above all else, Edward knows that Kieren prefers to keep a low profile, to draw no attention to himself, and so it may make sense that he'd be in a closed door, but... all of this is a bit odd. The objects he's clearly trying to keep hidden from sight, the jumpiness (well, all right, Kieren is pretty much always jumpy, but.)

In any case, Edward won't accuse him of anything, certainly, but he will ask outright so that he can understand what's going on here. The answer is as mysterious as anything, and the man's lifting his brows, before he finds himself being urged into the room by the teenager, and he lets himself be, even if he's startled by the gesture.

Door closed now, Edward stands there in the middle of the room, turned to face the younger. The severity in him doesn't falter, necessarily, but it's not aimed at Kieren, more the uncertainty of the situation.

Still, when he asks, it's with concern in the deep browns of his eyes. ]

Is something wrong?

[burying]

[ There's visible shame on his face, mixed in with apology. This all... looks really bad, he knows it. But her certainly can't speak freely with the door wide open, certainly not when he already walks on eggshells enough as it is. He shuffles on the spot a little, hiding the backpack behind him a little from where he stands with his back to the door.

Is something wrong?

Kieren almost wants to laugh, and he would if he wasn't so incredibly nauseous and vexed by the whole situation. Is something wrong? Oh, only a million things. That's just his shitty life. ]

I— I can't stay out there. [ Is the simplest explanation he can give. He swallows thickly, turning his head a little to look behind him to the door. He didn't want to be here in the Hall for the storm. He wishes he could have just... rode it out himself back at his own cabin. ]

Not with everyone, not— [ He exhales, he's clearly struggling to get the words out. ] I don't want something to happen to me, and everyone else is out there asleep. I can't let that happen.

[fidior]

[ Edward's listening, brows lifted and attention fixed on the boy, and as the words come, so do realisation. Ah.... Something shifts to his expression, confusion becoming knowing, and he pauses for a moment to consider his own thoughts.

It's.... an understandable concern. He knows Kieren prefers to be by himself in the longer term, flinches away from too many people around him. He lives alone, keeps alone. And this.... must be a nightmare situation for him, with so many people around all in one contained space.... It's certainly worrisome, and the lieutenant's feeling an unpleasant prickle of unease in his gut, but he nods firmly, as though confident. The boy is clearly a mess of nerves, and it's Edward's responsibility to try and abate those. To keep a handle on this situation. ]

I understand. [ Kieren doesn't have to voice his fret more directly than this, Edward already knows the boy's fears. That he'll hurt someone, possibly kill them in his.... state. He's nodding again, ready to help, looking around the small office space. ]

You mean to stay in here, then? That should be just fine. Would you like me to help fetch you some blankets, a pillow? I can bring a cot in if you like, so as to make it more comfortable for you.

[burying]

[ There's a slither of relief, enough to make Kieren straighten a little — head rolling back briefly. Little gets it. It's okay, it's fine. Kieren nods, yes. He'll stay here. He'll be fine. He can stay locked in here tonight and it'll be fine. ]

No, no— it's fine. [ He won't take from others, not when they need it more. He can't feel the cold, he won't take extra blankets from someone who can. He's already putting everyone at a terrible, horrible inconvenience just by being here, anyways. He won't put them out even further. ] Please. I don't need anything else. I've got one, it's enough.

[ More than enough. Maybe just for show, more than anything. Maybe it's just— for normality's sake. He sleeps in a bed, huddles under covers. For so much he does that isn't normal anymore, he's left with sleep. He does grasp at that. ]

The... the cold doesn't bother me all that much.

[fidior]

[ It's all so peculiar, this situation, and Edward feels at some loss for what to do to truly help. Kieren's just going to... stay in here, with nothing to even really sleep on? It can't be comfortable... The man's looking around as the boy says the cold doesn't bother him much, blinking at the interior of the office. There's nothing for warmth; it's so far from the fireplace out there, and with the doors shut....

He's frowning, concern bleeding through everything as his eyes travel back to the younger man and then dip down to the backpack that's barely peeking out from behind Kieren where he'd shoved it behind his back. Perhaps.... did he take some food or something? More than his share, perhaps? To hoard in here — is that why he's hiding it? ]

....It's all right if you've taken some food. [ He'll just come out and say it... but it's softly, losing any lingering sternness to his tone. ] Would you like some more, to last you through the night?

[ True, he's quite strict about rations, but given the fact that he barely touched his own dinner tonight... Kieren can have a second helping and it will even out. ]

[burying]

[ God. Kieren knows it's weird. He hates how weird it is. He wishes it wasn't happening, but it sure is. This is... just his life, isn't it. Just being weird and everything going to shit all the time. Maybe he should just leg it into the storm and hunker down in his cabin. At least the cold won't kill him, just... mess him up somewhat.

Kieren's still very much a deer in the headlights. Food? And then he realises where Edward's looking. He shakes his head. ]

I— I haven't. [ There's no food in there. Not from here. Maybe a cereal bar or two, some crackers and water — mostly for show. Or something he can offer to others. ] I'm alright, I promise.

[ Kieren sighs, eyes closing briefly. Shit. He finally gives in, bringing the backpack out from behind him. His stomach curls uncomfortably, and he pulls out the rope to show it to him. ]

I just... I just need to be away from everyone. Here, where I can't— hurt anyone. That's all I need. [ He looks, almost imploringly. ] D'you understand?

[fidior]

[ Edward's still confused even as Kieren finally reveals what he'd been trying so desperately to stuff into the backpack — a rope...? He doesn't understand, but he's listening, and then.... his eyes are slowly widening a bit more.

Need to be away from everyone. Need to not... hurt anyone. Surely he doesn't mean....

....But he had told Edward that if it happened, he would lose control of himself. It would make sense, then, that he would try to procure some means of restraining himself. But with that awareness comes a sweep of horror, and Edward looks ill, giving his head a soft shaking movement, a shuddery thing. ]

You mean to restrain yourself. [ ...Like an animal, he thinks. It's a deeply unpleasant mental image. ] Mr. Walker, surely that isn't necessary, I— [ He's giving a soft exhale, not exactly exasperated, more disturbed. A boy shouldn't be tied like that, kept like a prisoner. ]

Couldn't I simply... stay with you? I could keep watch. You needn't be... kept, like that.

Re: whiteout | closed

[ployboy]

Do you sleepwalk?

[It's the simplest reason that Tim can find for the behavior. It's been at least two nights (two sleeps) that the boy's been moving away from the central warmth and into complete isolation.

There's nothing particularly special about this office room. Tim's checked, when the coast had been clear and he knew he wouldn't be missed. Of course he's checked. Like an old shepherd dog, his brand of patrol pales in comparison to the Lieutenant's pacing around but there's very little (nothing) that Tim risks keeping ignorant of.

There's a radiator, a rope, a backpack, and a perfect stranger who is, honestly, just a shadow in very poor light. Tim's tired, but his work's not done. Injured arm hidden under the hoodie he wears, Tim keeps still at the door.

It's freezing. He frowns, but it's a tired frown and an old friend to Tim.] Nightmares? Come on, there's got to be a better way than locking yourself up in here.

[burying]

[ Kieren's stood frozen, looking like a deer in the headlights, and swallowing thickly at the questions. For a long time, he doesn't answer. He's not sure how, where to even start explaining any of this.

Sleepwalking almost makes him want to laugh. Yeah, what a laugh that'll be. Sleepwalking, and then killing people in their sleep until someone screams and people wake up and someone shoots him dead. But no, it's not the reason.

And sure, yeah. There's nightmares. Plenty of them, each one just as gory and vivid as the one before. He might not have neurotriptyline to keep his brain cells from regenerating, but they seem to be doing that just fine for whatever reason. But that's definitely not the reason, either. ]

I— I was gonna deal with it at my own place, but I'm stuck here, so— [ This is literally the best option. ] Listen, I... I know this sounds stupid, or mental, but— I can't be out there, with the others. This is better.

[ployboy]

[Mental, not so much. Stupid, yes. There's an allowance for idiocy that Tim keeps stocked and refreshed; he's worked with The Bat for years, after all.

Mornings are always awkward. Tim's not built for company either. There's a bone-deep fatigue that won't let him rest even in his sleep, and part of the fault lies with the abundance of Unknown taunting him.

If he can ease that burden--]

You're scared of hurting people.

[What, was he supposed to not see that rope, not read into flustered accusations? It's dark, and he's too tired for this shit.

The door, by the way, remains halfway open with Tim half in, half out of the room itself.

Insurance.]

Half the people here sleep with loaded guns and the other half put knives under their pillow at night.

[burying]

[ Kieren looks taken aback, and perhaps the stunned silence is telling enough. Yes, yes he is. He is terrified of hurting people. He is horrified at the thought of being locked in with so many people, and turning rabid and hurting them, even one person before someone's able to put him down.

He keeps his voice low, too scared to even raise it considering the door's half open — worried about people listening in. Hickey told him he needed to be less scared about telling people things, and Kieren's failing miserably at it in all honesty.

But he's trying. ]

I— I have a medical condition. [ He tries to keep his voice even, but there's a tremor in it no matter how hard he tries. ] I used to take medication, but there isn't any here.

[ And here he is, a ticking time bomb. ]

I could... [ He shakes his head a little. ] without the medication, I lose control of myself. And I don't want to risk one single person getting hurt before someone stops me.

[ployboy]

[That's a lie, he first registers, because there's the option of toughing it out on his own. Away from these others.

Tim brings his hand to his face and scrubs at it, willing those gross thoughts out. The gesture is accompanied by a short, low little noise. Oh my god, Tim thinks, he really did just pull a Batman.

The boy's about to trip all over his story. Tim generously steps fully into the office and lets the door fall closed. Of course he's not going to be the one to lock it.] Look-

[medical conditions galore. Jesus Christ. Tim's shoulders sag, because they (the whole collective 'they') are so fucked it's not funny.]

We'll stick with Sleep Walking. Okay? For when people ask, that's the story. It's a dangerous condition in its own right. And we'll... you weren't actually going to tether yourself to that radiator.

[God, he was. And Tim finds an unoccupied office chair, and down he goes, because he's so tired.]

Have you been getting any sleep?

[burying]

[ Kieren's mouth opens then closes again. Technically, Deadwalking would be a more appropriate term, in all honesty. But he doesn't offer than, his mouth twisting to the side as he mutely acquiesces to it.

And he just stands there, awkwardly, watching the other boy throws himself down on a chair. Kieren's not quite sure what to do with himself. He's... not expecting company. ]

It's— it's better if I do. [ He says quietly. ] I'd rather tie myself to it than not.

[ If he does go, in the middle of the night, better someone finds him tied up than someone opening the office door and having a zombie landing right on top of them. ]

Sorry, but— [ His face screws up tightly and he shakes his head. ] You're not gonna stay here, are you?

[ployboy]

[It's too late, kid. He's already sat down.

To explain all of this, Tim gestures at the space between them and the door with his one good hand.]

You get to rest knowing that you're not going anywhere past me, and I get to pretend I'm not trapped in a convention center with total strangers. I'll read a book.

[burying]

[ Kieren stares, nonplussed. Is he being serious right now? For a long moment, he doesn't seem to react — just stands, staring. What's he going to do? Kick the other boy out? How well is that going to go? Probably not well at all, and that's even if he's going to succeed, which he probably isn't.

He hates his fucking life right now.

After an age, his eyes closed and he exhales in muted, unhappy resignation. ]

Fine. Whatever. This is weird enough as it is.

[ Why not just making it even more horribly weird! He turns, tossing his backpack and throwing himself down to sit on the floor. He busies himself with retrieving the rope from the backpack and sets to work trying to tie his wrist the radiator. ]

[ployboy]

[This is weird enough as it is, and Tim agrees wholeheartedly. So he lets his breathing start to even out, the first sign of real respite because he's not meant to be a performer.

Imagine his embarrassment (because that's what it is, Tim's own shortcomings smacking him upside the face again) when the dude continues his one-man battle against himself.

He wonders again, if the condition is so dire-- why]

Hey. No.

[Eloquent. Tim wonders, again, what parts of his words make them go so misunderstood. He's on his feet again, and everything sucks.]

If you're seriously convinced you're going to Hulk out on us and you don't believe I can stop you, [which is an terrible decision really] then you can't believe that you won't un-do your very own handiwork.

[This is weird.

But business sometimes does tend to be weird.

--he doesn't even know this kid's name.

Tim's just tired.]

If my work's good enough for Iraq then it'll be good enough for you. [An edge there, at the mere memory of Baghdad. Tim gestures to the rope-- Jesus Christ-- and doesn't have it in him to demand it handed over. Instead he takes the worse route, asks, again terse despite himself,] What's your name?

[burying]

[ Kieren stops, turns his head sharply with his brow furrowed. No? He takes a half-step back out of reflex, brow quickly unfurrowing. ]

That's what I've been doing the whole time, so far. [ It's not like he's going to think about unpicking knots as a rabid, anyways. But he can't explain that, so he doesn't.

Maybe it's just better to let him do it, if he's so insistent on being here.

God. He fucking hates this.

Groaning inwardly, eyes closing briefly, he hands the rope over. ]

Kieren. [ There's a little nervous beat. ] Kieren Walker.

[ Another pause, longer this time. Confusion shifting over his face, a little strange pang like he's seen a ghost. Wait, how does that work out? The guy can't be older than him. How's he been to Iraq? ]

You.. you were in Iraq?