prelude

[singmod]

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.

Comments

[goingtobeunwell]

The others have certainly changed, though perhaps not in passing. Harry Goodsir has a glint of ferocity behind his eyes now, a hidden streak of cruelty, and Thomas Jopson is certainly more generous and devoted to the community in a way that spoke to his quick turn as lieutenant. Edward Little -- Little's desperation is clear, his guilt, his complete lack of confidence. It's heavier now, harder for him to shake.

And Hickey is just unhinged, but if he spares any more consideration for that man's moral character he's going to find himself trying to stab him in the night.

"Much happened after you fled from Terror Camp, Mr. Gibson. Lieutenant Little was one of the few officers still standing in the end, and he continues to carry that burden."

What burdens did William Gibson carry, if any? Did he lose sleep over the men he helped destroy, the man he helped enable?

"Look closer at them all. Look closer. The change is there."

[notarat]

For a moment he doesn't answer. He doesn't do anything to indicate he thinks Crozier is right, but he doesn't speak up to refute the other's opinion either. Billy is just silent - even his expression is hard to read in any specific way. Maybe he's thinking about it all.

Then he does slowly speak.

"They want you to be the one to look closer at them, not me."

It's still a little strange, speaking so candidly. He's plenty used to it, sure, but-- in his own mind, never out loud. He has to resist the instinct to add disclaimers, to swallow any with all due respects that he usually retreats behind. Though there's no harshness to the statement now, even in its directness. It sounds more like an observation, an assessment.

"Men like me go unseen." A pause, and then added: "Understand I don't mean this as a justification of my actions." He knows what he did was bad for others, after all. It's why he didn't blame Goodsir for his harshness in the face of his near-dead state. This wasn't even the reason for his contribution to the mutiny. It had just been survival.

Instead he's trying to explain something else entirely with those words, however indirectly. Something more related to the questions the other man asked earlier. "I only mean to say that this is why we hold onto what we know."

[goingtobeunwell]

Truly, William Gibson's time as a steward as served him well. If he's thinking anything at all, any sort of disagreement or argument, there's no sign of it in his expressions. He's neutral, careful. He has to be, even now.

He knows that his men are desperate for him to see them. They can't quite let go of his importance, the way the chain of command made his voice the loudest, even if he's completely impotent in this place. One day they'll understand that, and perhaps then they'll let go of that unearned respect they've given him.

Crozier will relent to argument, because it's a good point, and a fair one at that. He nods gently and steps back, returning the young man a bit more of his space. "It's a matter of survival, in all ways." We hold on to who others know us to be because it's safe, we hold onto traditions because they bring us comfort.

He's given up both those things. It must drive them all mad.

[notarat]

".. in all ways," he repeats, as if in agreement.

(He knows that Crozier isn't thinking of the same way as Billy himself is. The other still doesn't know. No one knows. At least that's one matter he doesn't have to worry about right now, not as long as none of the men showing up are Irving.)

It might not show, but he is a little more at ease now - mostly at having his space back again, but also now he's feeling a little less like he might be getting grilled. Instead he thinks about the other saying those words. Survival in all ways, yet Crozier doesn't sound like he's trying to survive at all. There seems to be nothing passionate about it about him. It's as if the survival doesn't matter anymore at all.

Billy is smart enough to not remark on it further, but he does file away the thought. Just in case. Hopefully it makes Crozier less of a potential problem here, at least. Unless Hickey doesn't know to leave well enough alone. (Knowing him, he definitely won't.)

He almost turns to walk away, but then he realises there's maybe one thing he should say here.

"You won't have to expect trouble from me here. I am not telling you this as a captain." Crozier made the whole 'no ranks' and 'you don't owe me anything' part pretty clear, and Billy sure is no Edward Little who doesn't know how to survive without dropping it. "Just as someone who is looking to survive, Mr. Crozier." And survival sure is made harder when stuff from back home ends up being dragged on in this place too.

[goingtobeunwell]

He didn't anticipate trouble from William Gibson the first time around, and his associations with Cornelius Hickey had been proved more dangerous to Gibson himself in the end. If he continues his dalliances despite the danger it may pose to him then that's a matter for him and him alone.

"I wish you peace then," he says quietly, giving him one last poignant nod. "Success in survival, and peace."

Peace. It's all he can stand now.

[notarat]

That's a fair enough answer to him. It's all he wants for himself as well - even if he's actively making it harder on himself by opting to stick with Hickey.

But he's glad enough to get away from this encounter, especially when interacting with anyone else from the ships makes him feel so actively antsy. So Billy, too, just gives Crozier a last nod before he turns and walks away.