singillatim | nature offers a violence

nature offers a violence

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

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When Kieren catches a glimpse of Hickey's horrifically scarred ass, Hickey (unfortunately for everybody) is facing away. So when he hears Kieren's 'Jesus fuck', he instantly starts to scramble, pushing his clothes further away as he makes his way inside the hot spring. The water will hide everything, right? Maybe? He hopes?

"What are you doing here?" splutters the man who's sinking down to his chin in the hot spring, as if that will somehow hide his absolute nakedness. "It's the middle of the night!"

That does not answer Kieren's question.

There's certainly questions, through the shock and embarrassment. Why the hell does he look like that? What the hell happened to him? But Kieren doesn't have the nerve to ask, certainly not right now. He hears the splash of water and it's maybe safe to not be holding a hand against he eyes because he probably looks absolutely ridiculous right now. He lowers it, but he's pointedly not looking in all of his fluster.

"What'd you think? Just because I'm a—" His voice drops into an almost whisper. Kieren there's literally no one else here. "—a zombie doesn't mean I have to smell like one."

He literally just wants a bath.

"D'ya think I'd want to just parade myself around when like this?"

There's telling people the 'having a medical condition' thing and then there's being up in people's faces with the whole undead body at a bloody hot spring. He doesn't even like looking at himself. Middle of the night seemed like the best time to actually get some privacy. Kieren shakes his head, his shoulders sinking.

"Listen, it's fine. You got here first."

He can go. He can come back tomorrow or something. Maybe there won't be anyone around. He hates his whole entire life.

When like this.

Yeah. Hickey can get that. It's the exact same reason why he's at the spring right here, right now. Do you really think he'd want to just parade himself around, showing off his scars, inviting questions? Absolutely not. He's staying where he is. He's keeping to himself.

"It's not..." There's a pause as he decides how to think about this. "Look, there's no use being precious about this. We both want to bathe, yeah? So take your clothes off and get in here."

There's another pause before, "Besides, you probably saw what I'd prefer not to parade around anyway."

It's obvious. The wounds and scars are obvious, Hickey knows that much. He also knows that there's no hiding what precisely they are.

Kieren closes his eyes briefly, his expression looks visibly pained for the longest of moments, then weary. God, for someone who doesn't feel, he feels so fucking tired all of the time.

But... yeah, he saw it. That whole fucking mess, and Kieren can't blame him for not wanting the world to see that all that much, either. But Hickey already knows what Kieren is. Knows he's undead. But it's... still a struggle. Not even his family really see him without any cover-up on, let alone in any state of undress. Kieren often tries to keep his bare face from them, too.

"If—" he sighs. Alright. So this'll how it'll be. "If you don't ask about me, I don't ask about what's going on with you. Deal?"

That seems fair. No nosy questions. They can just... have a bath, and that way they both get some peace. There's a long pause before he then adds:

"And close your eyes, yeah?" A beat, his voice firmer: "I mean it."

THIS IS NOT A SHOW, CORNELIUS. DON'T LOOK AT HIM.

"I mean, I already know about you," Hickey points out, as he very visibly closes his eyes—and hell, don't mind him as he gives the extra nine yards and places his hands over them as well. "Anything that you probably don't want to see is due to that zombie thing, right?"

Which he's only outright saying because he's pretty sure they're the only two people in the hot spring at the moment. There's a pause before he gives Kieren a shit-eating grin and teases, "Unless you're self-conscious about the size of your prick. But I wouldn't judge that either. You can always blame it on the cold."

Teasing aside, he is absolutely going to try and sneak a peek when he thinks Kieren isn't looking. What if this was a show and he did take a little peek at this naked guy. He's only human!

Kieren's watching him like a hawk, even with the entire show of him closing his eyes and then covering his eyes with his hands. There's a long moment where he doesn't move at all, just watching him to make sure he's not looking before he relents with a sigh and moves to set his lantern and rucksack down.

"My heart doesn't beat anymore." he tells him, his voice a little tight. "Obviously that... changes things a little bit."

Which becomes obvious as he starts to peel off the layers of clothing he's wrapped up in. It's not the cold he protects himself from, although he's realised his body is still a fragile thing. But the layers keep his skin from view of others, a tall and lean body buried in thick, over-sized clothes. If Hickey thought his face was peaky, the rest of him is far-worse: he's pale in a particular way, cool-toned blues and purple in the shadows. Greying, like pale stone, with soft smatterings of black veins dancing over his skin here and there.

At each of his wrists, thick and black jagged scars stitched up post-mortem: the cause of death. Kieren hadn't mentioned how he'd died.

He's a tiny bit squirmy for a moment at the teasing, a little stunned by it. But he snorts, his voice flat. "Yeah, my dick's just fine, thanks." Yeah, he's taking it. And he'll give it in return. He's can be a snarky little shit sometimes. "Probably bigger than yours, you Victorians are all tiny."

Is he wrong though.

Still, if Hickey peeks at him, Kieren hasn't caught it and finally undressed, he grabs his things to wash with, sets them on the edge and quickly slips into the water. Even with it all, he's... keeping a polite distance. This is still awkward, communal bathing is not an idea that sits easily with him.

"Alright, fine." He can look now. Kieren's expression is a little grim, the obvious (to Kieren, anyway) now he's in the water, up to the shoulders: he's wearing makeup.

Hickey absolutely sneaks a peek, spotting those jagged scars along his wrists. Well well well. That would do nothing but spark questions. No wonder Kieren doesn't want to be seen.

He stops looking for the moment. He's seen what he needs to. It's only when Kieren says that it's fine to look that Hickey does so...and yep. That's makeup. Not that he knows much about the ins and outs of how makeup works, what with being a British man from the 1840s who's incredibly gay, but he at least knows what it is!

Hickey looks from Kieren's face to his pale, pasty body, then back to his face again. The man's obviously self-conscious about that. But Hickey knows that any attempt at empathy would probably fall flat (and not just because he suspects he'd be terrible at it). Hickey gives Kieren a once-over before lightly teasing,

"You know, some of our boys looked like you at the end of the polar winter. Give it a few months of no sunlight and you'll be blending in with everyone here."

Considering his whole entire family, and Kieren himself, treated it like the elephant in the room. Yeah. No wonder. At least this place is cold enough to warrant long sleeves at all times. That's going in his favour.

Kieren used to cover the entirety of his on-show skin in it. He can't afford to, now. Gloves and scarves keep his hands and neck hidden, at least. But he's not sure how to go about hiding his face, really. That'd probably be too weird. Paired with the contacts, he can pass — even if he does look sickly.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he's trying to remember how hot water feels. What it used to feel like on his skin when he was alive. He scoffs at the teasing, the tiniest of smiles at his lips. "Ha-ha, very funny." the tiniest shake of his head. "Dick. Bit of a difference between a lack of sunlight and literal deadman walking."

There's a pause as he considers, smirking slightly. Yes, they're not going to talk about what they've agreed not to talk about but Hickey isn't looking like the most sun-kissed bloke going either.

"Although considering you, I might be wrong."

Yeah. Get fucked, Cornelius.

"Oi, I have an excuse!" he lightly teases back. There's a smirk on Kieren's face. Good. Hickey wants to see more of it. He wants the kid to be relaxed, to be comfortable around him. There's value in having people near you, people on your side, people who would hesitate and ask you what happened when someone like Little or Jopson inevitably spills their fucking secrets.

It's not like he likes Kieren or anything. It's not like he thinks they're friends. They're totally not friends, why would you say that they're friends??? It's practicalities. Nothing more.

"Mine is the lack of sunlight and most probably scurvy," he points out, with an equally teasing smirk.

"Yep. Very helpful for the complexion." he utters, his voice deadpan even if there's still humour in his voice. But Kieren has an excuse, too! Being dead is totally more of a valid excuse, at least Hickey's alive. Kieren snorts. "Well, at least we can fix the scurvy part. Probably. There's hope for your dreams of obtaining a bronze godbod, yet."

He is absolutely taking the piss.

There's a pause before with a frown: "Isn't there supposed to be shit loads of sunlight for loads of the year in the Arctic Circle, anyway?"

... Alright, never mind there's also a whole lot of the year that's in complete darkness.

"Might have been cold but at least you could have been sunning it up somewhat. I mean, there's only so much work to do on a ship, right? Surely there's plenty of time to do... I dunno, something vaguely nice?"

It's nice, this sort of back and forth, almost banter. Hickey's missed having someone around who he can just shoot the shit with. Kieren's a weird kid, but he's a weird kid that's proven himself. As far as Hickey's concerned, he's good enough and they're close enough for him to mess around with Kieren a bit.

"That would assume that the good men of her majesty's naval service give a shit about things like 'the well-being of the crew' or 'anything to keep us from going insane.' From what I've seen, the top brass doesn't give a shit about those below."

It's... weirdly normal, Kieren thinks. Given how much of his life isn't, and how much of their current situation isn't normal. Normal is actually fucking nice, for a change.

"I mean, surely they do. Right? Somehow?" Listen, Kieren knows just about fuck all of how the Navy works. But he's heard Rick talk about the Army. He's honestly just taking a stab at it here — not that he doubts Cornelius' own experience. And besides, Victorian Navy is probably a whole lot different than Modern Millitary.

(And he knows, from what Kieren's seen himself. Edward Little is a good man. A Lieutenant, who hoped to find medicine for his men, when they first met.)

"They supposed to? That's how it all works, otherwise there wouldn't be a Navy, or anything. My... my best mate was in the Army. He said it were like a family, to him."

"As long as there's poor bastards looking for a paycheck or looking to get a new start in life? There'll be a Navy."

Sure, there are probably some people who it's like a family to them. Lord knows the Marines banded together, they looked after their own. And people formed friendships on the boat—even more than friendships in some cases.

But Hickey's not an idiot. He knows that just as many people are there who join up with the Navy to get some money. To send something home to the wife and kids. To just leave.

Kieren shouldn't let it sting. Cornelius doesn't know. Of course he doesn't. Rick left. They were happy together, and he left. He got a new start in life, and Kieren was left keeping the two of them alive, in his head. And it was all Kieren's fault, anyway. Rick joined the Army because of Kieren. Just so he could he could get into his dad's good books, just because Kieren dared to fall in love with him.

So it stings. And Kieren looks incredibly bitter about it all, unable to hide it.

"Yeah, well. Fuck the Navy, I guess." he utters quietly, sinking a little more into the water. "But especially fuck the Army."

He scoffs, "Fuck me, more. My mate joined because of me."

That bitterness is interesting. Hickey, being a nosy little shit, immediately wants to learn more. Something happened there, with Kieren's mate. What it is, he has no clue. But it's a story. And stories can be used, sympathies can be played on. All information is useful, that more than most.

"What happened to your mate?"

Kieren sucks in a breath. "His dad hated me. This was even before I was... like this." Before he died, he means. Before he came back as he is now. Bill Macy hated him by the time Kieren was fourteen, and it didn't get any better. "Because I was... different. He was adamant that Rick wasn't 'like that', wasn't like me."

God forbid he loved another man's son. Kieren's quiet for a moment, his mouth twisting.

"He just wanted to be in his dad's good books, wanted to make him proud. So he joined the Army to make him happy." He got away from it all. Got his new life. He left Kieren behind. Didn't matter that he loved him, Rick loved his dad's approval more.

"And they sent him over to Afghanistan. He got killed."

And then he came back. Like Kieren. And it was a gift. And he died again anyway.

Oh.

Different.

Oh, Hickey gets that. He recognizes precisely what Kieren means by different, by how Rick's father would say he's not 'like that.' He pauses for a moment, not entirely sure what to say, before settling on,

"There were some of us on the ships like that. Different. One of the lieutenants suggested that I rid myself of those differences with the most inane suggestions I've ever heard in my life."

Climbing exercises. Really. As if that could replace the happiness Hickey felt with Billy, as if that could mitigate the lust.

"Sorry about your mate."

Wait. Wait. Hang on. Kieren's eyelids flutter, understanding mixed with brief uncertainty as he turns to look round at the other man. Wait. Does that mean he's— Oh.

Oh—! Kieren swallows, his expression caught in surprise.

"You're—" He doesn't quite finish, a little awkward. And perhaps it speaks volumes of the fact he comes from a small town in the middle of nowhere, Northern England. Not like he's ever really... come across anyone who's... like him.

His voice drops a little, despite the fact they're very much alone. It's not as if anyone's going to hear them.

"You mean you... you like other men?"

It's odd. Hickey's never actually vocalized this before. He knows it about himself, he knows others know it about himself, but he's never actually outright said 'yeah, I like other men.'

First time for everything, he supposes.

He tries to keep calm, tries to seem like this is totally not a big deal even though it very obviously is, as he gives Kieren a little shrug before, "Yeah, I do. Don't mention it all that much for obvious reasons, but as far as I'm concerned? No laws saying otherwise here."

It's absolutely a big deal, there's no hiding that from Kieren. He's staring for a long moment, it's... touching in a way. Being made privy to something like that. He does frown briefly at: for obvious reasons before he gets it. Oh, shit. Yeah. Cornelius is from a whole other time. He doesn't know about the modern legalities of it all.

"It's not illegal any more." There's a small smile. Well, certainly not in the Western world, at any rate. "I mean, some people don't like it. But they're just bigots. But... yeah. There's no government laws that're gonna— put you in prison or— anything like that just because you're gay, or anything that's not straight."

There's a moment where Hickey thinks that over. Some people don't like it, yeah, that's to be expected. Even if everything was perfectly legal, he's sure that the John Irvings of the world would give him shit because nowhere in the Bible does it say that it's fine for men to fuck other men. The John Irvings of the world have obviously given Kieren shit about it, after all. But it's nice to know that the specter of the law isn't looming over his head in the future. It's nice to know that things get a bit better.

Not for him, of course. But the fact still stands.

"Well," Hickey muses, before giving Kieren a small little smirk of a smile. "That's certainly something. Must admit, I never thought anything like that would ever happen."

Plenty of people never liked Kieren before he died. He was too soft for somewhere like Roarton. Too strange, too different. And it was probably more than obvious about how he was so doe-eyed for Rick. His dad suspected it enough to ban him from the Macy house, even if none of it was ever said. What he had with Rick was theirs and theirs alone. Kieren hums thoughtfully, shrugging.

"It's pretty recent, I guess. I think it was decriminalised back in... the 1960's? Or maybe the 1980's. Something like that. And they only made Civil Partnerships a thing back home, like— less than ten years ago?" There's a beat before he adds. "Basically, you can get married, or get rights similar to marriage, at any rate."

Kieren exhales, quiet for a moment.

"You don't have to keep it to yourself. You have the option, here." he says quietly, and there's a tiny smile. He's happy for him. "Not everyone does share it, though. It's... like their own business, you know? But, yeah."

The 1960s or the 1980s. 'Pretty recent.'

There's a small hint of something on Hickey's face as he points out, "I'm from the 1840s. Even if we managed to make it back to London, I'd never see anything like that in my time."

He had what he always had. Secret trysts, quick rendezvous in the orlop, frantic touches and small signs of affection. Marriage or whatever the fuck a civil partnership is, that would never be available to him.

Still....

"Glad to see that no one here would give me shit about that." A pause, as he thinks of the fact that he's got too many goddamn crewmates. "Or at least, most people here wouldn't give me shit."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

nature offers a violence

BIG AWKWARD for the boys

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two bros chillin in the hot springs, five feet apart cause they're both gay; cw: self-harm scars,

what's better than this, guys being dudes

just a couple of dudes being guys

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