singillatim | prelude

January 1st 2015

Do you remember yesterday? What is tomorrow?
How will you face this quiet apocalypse?
— Raphael van Lierop.

As the old year falls and the new year begins, the skies fill with light. An Aurora comes on the last day of December, and with it the usual signs of it: the ethereal noise, the cracks and pops in the air, the stuttering of electrics as they struggle to power on and then blare and flicker. It is, as Interlopers have come to know, business as usual — in terms of the Auroras within this world. However, something a little different happens this time.

Interlopers will fall asleep all over the town of Milton. Even the ones who fight sleep and try to stay up into the small hours of the night will find themselves drifting off for a short while — as if their eyes just feel too heavy to keep open, and their minds slip into a deep kind of quiet darkness without their realising. And at first, there is nothing — nothing but the quiet dark. Something peaceful, almost.

A dream comes.

The first thing you notice is blood in your mouth, the cold in your bones, the deafening din in your ears — as if you are caught in static and the sound of howling winds through pine trees. You are afraid. At first, you do not know why. You find yourself on your knees in the snow. The skies are filled with green light, the air is thick with smoke. And then the realisation comes:

This is the ending of all things.

You look up, to the sight before you: a huge, shapeless shadow. Towering above you, over you. A head peers down at you: a cluster of three wolf skulls, eye-sockets glowing green and terrible, and their three open maws, dripping with more green. The sound it makes is unnatural, you cannot put it into words. The darkness draws in, you are so cold, so tired.

This is the ending of all things.

It is so hungry. You are so tired. The world falls away, you cannot see the stars, the dark hiding them from view. Were they even there to begin with? Or did they go out? You have forgotten. And you know, you know—

This is the ending of all things.

The skies glimmer, licks of strange, colourful wisps curl above — a voice screams out your name, from the static and winds. Through the noise. A woman’s voice. You have heard this voice before, in the lights and noise. Do you see? What could be? What you could become?

Can you hold on? Please. A hand grips your shoulder, but as you turn — the dream ends.

For some, they snap into waking with a shout or cry. Some will shudder awake to find tears in their eyes. All over Milton, the Interlopers wake: shaken, unsure, afraid. They will awaken to the dark: the Aurora is gone — slowly fading from the night skies into an otherwise calm and clear night.

It is a new year.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ There's a thoughtful tightening of his mouth, a gesture that's almost a nod. Thomas has more or less voiced exactly how Edward feels about the matter, himself. He never knew for certain what.... Tuunbaq was, but Mr. Blanky's words never left his mind. A spirit that dresses as an animal... Something not of this world. Certainly, the creature at times seemed supernatural in its capabilities. ]

That's how I feel about it, as well. [ He sighs softly, and finishes up the two cups of tea, handing one over to the other man. ]

I've seen things in this place I cannot explain, and I do fear that such.... supernatural entities might be even more prominent here.

....But I don't know what to do, Thomas. How to protect people here against such things, if that threat is what we face. It was always going to be a losing battle against the Tuunbaq, I see that now.

It was not a losing battle. Not against that creature. It was a losing battle against ourselves, among ourselves.

[He takes the tea and holds it close, warmed by the action as well as the product itself. There isn't much that a cup of tea can't cure.]

[ He pauses, looking back over at Jopson, and then offers a small smile — not one truly of humour; everything's far too grim for that. ]

The captain said something very similar to me, here.

[ That they'd fractured, that what kept them together as a crew didn't work in the end. He's right, as Thomas is right. Edward couldn't see it before. ]

If such a thing repeats, here... some supernatural presence, a place we are trapped in... a community of people confused and afraid... do you think we are doomed to repeat what happened before?

[ It's a heavy thing to ask, and not something he would usually voice. But he values the other man's opinion, and.. it's nice, not to think about such things alone. ]

Edited 2024-02-10 20:55 (UTC)

No.

[He leans against the counter, not ready to sit just yet. Sitting implies a resolution of sorts, and they are far from that now.]

There are different people here and we are not yet in dire need of necessities.

[ It's true that they aren't in dire need of supplies. They do have access to more here; there are animals to hunt, and ground which can be used to grow crops, eventually. This is not the endless nothingness of the ice.

But Little can't help seeing the worst, expecting it, even. And with this nightmare... He shudders without being able to help himself, and wraps his hands around his cup of tea as though to warm himself. ]

I suppose, after everything we have known... I can't help expecting the worst. [ He sighs, quietly. It's.. strange to admit, when he had always been so full of hope. He'd clung onto it until the very end, and then let go of it all. He was... foolish, he can see that now. ]

This dream of ours... I am afraid, Thomas. I am afraid of what is to come.

['Are we close?' Thomas had mistakenly asked Crozier once. 'Close' was a poisonous word and Thomas knew it. Of course he did.

But he used it anyway because, unlike his Captain, he has hope. He's always tried to have hope, even if it was tempered by a blanket of realism. That was the part he always tried to compensate for, even here.

But he doesn't know how to help him here. So he tries simply - being genuine.]

Fear is a natural response to what we saw. What we're experiencing. Feel that fear but do not let it consume you.

[ Little looks back up to him, just as sincere in response to the words. ...They matter. They help. It does help, just to have someone there to speak with, to listen to. To wake up under the same roof with after a nightmare that's left him shaking. He's felt so alone for a very long time. ]

....You are right. Again. [ He allows a soft, albeit sad smile, and a quiet sip of tea before he adds on. ]

I wish that I had your fortitude. As I revisit the past... I can see that you have always maintained it.

[ Hadn't he? Jopson was always so capable. He didn't flinch from of the things that Little did, not even from the more difficult tasks asked of them from the captain. ...But he can also see that the other man is affected by this nightmare, the way he'd been trembling, the look on his face. ]

How do you keep yourself from being consumed by it? By the fear.

[He sniffs.]

I do not let it consume me because I cannot let it consume me. I always have something else to do. I could sit and be afraid, or I could mend a blanket. I could be consumed by fear or I could boil the water.

[He turns to Little and watches him carefully, searching his face.]

You know what to do. What you must do.

[ Edward listens to him as he stands there holding his tea, palms warmed by the ceramic of the cup. What the other man says makes sense, and some part of him can relate — he's learned how to keep busy in order to keep himself going, and it used to work so well. Over time, though.... he began to crumble, more and more. It became harder and harder to do. He admires Thomas Jopson for being capable of it.

It stirs forth yet another memory of the captain in the throes of his sickness, the truth behind which only the first lieutenant and the captain's steward really knew. Those exchanged glances when Crozier would ring the bell, calling for Jopson to come help him. Edward felt himself so... angry, and wounded, and yet Thomas dealt with it without hesitation. He'd wished he could be that way. ]

....Protect them. [ He voices, quietly. It's all he can do. What he must do. ] The others here.

[ He'll need to go to them, make sure the other townspeople are all right after this bizarre... shared dream. He'll need to deal with it. To be strong and steadfast, even if his hands are still shaking a little against his cup. ]

....Are you all right, though? I mean truly all right.

[He regards Edward with a little bit of trepidation here. At that question. Is he all right? No. But he doesn't think he trusts Edward yet with all of the inner workings of his mind. They have come so far, but Jopson is unused to so much openness, even in close quarters.]

Yes. It was a dream. If it is an omen, there is nothing to be done about it yet.

prelude

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