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

[bigbaddy]

"Oh, sure."

He says that with zero hesitation.

Clearly the most humble of brags. But it's not like it isn't true-- Bigby knows he can take care of himself very well, whether it's about survival, or about handling himself in a fight. It doesn't even matter that he doesn't have all his abilities at his full disposal the way he did back home. It's not bragging if it's the truth!!

"I was just curious. I've been assuming pretty much all this time that you wouldn't bother if it was me."

That's not even really a judgement on Rorschach, especially not compared to what Bigby said before. This isn't a general 'Rorschach is unhelpful' assessment, it's more just.. Bigby living with the reality that he knows pretty much no one would save him if he ever were in trouble.

That's what happens when you grow up the way he did, and then don't exactly get treated well later in your life either. You learn to only count on yourself when things get tough.

[moralabsolutism]

Beneath the fabric of his mask, Rorschach was practically rolling his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if Bigby was just as bad at reading other people as he himself was. At moments like this he could come off as being rather thick.

"Only don't bother with people who are evil and need punishment. You're not that." While there was a number of people that irritated Rorschach in town, none of them had reached that level where he felt the need he had to take care of them permanently. Knowing he tended to not get along with a good twenty-five percent of the population due to his prickly personality, he just took it for granted he'd dislike a great many of the people around him because they disliked him as well.

While he may not have gotten along all that well with Bigby, that didn't mean he'd just leave him to the tender mercies of whatever was tormenting them in the snow this week. He protect him just the same as he would with anyone else in town.