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singillatim2024-01-02 09:56 am
20likes) wrote in singillatim2024-01-02 09:56 am
See the sun set;
Character Name: Heartman + you
Who: TDM continuation + a few open prompts re: prelude
What: The prelude dream doesn't bode well for someone like Heartman
When: Night of Jan 1st
Where: Community hall, Outside
Content Warnings: TBD, will update as needed
i. The Dream;
Heartman's a very light sleeper. Doing everything in 20 minute cycles means his body's circadian rhythm is severely off, if nonexistent at this point. There's no Beach to go to, no wandering black sand and smelling the salt and decomposing fish, following familiar footsteps until he tires himself out. It's just him.
When he does sleep, his dreams are never. It's usually the same dream, one Heartman stopped dreading once he knew the scientific reason but still finds deeply unpleasant. He should be glad--is glad--that he only suffers a mild case of DOOMS. He lacks the homicidal tendencies for one, the suicidal behaviour is thankfully non existent. The dreams, though. The nightmares are relentless, sharp and vivid but never in colour.
This dream is not the same.
Heartman wakes with a gasp in the community hall, hand flying to his chest out of habit--no, his heart is fine, it's still fine here--and knocking the sleeping person next to him in his hurried attempt to rise. His brow furrows, determined, panting from the adrenaline as he scrambles up and shoots to the closest scrap of paper on a table, knocking over a chair in his haste to reach for his glasses at the same time.
"It's different--" His lips frown deeply, immediately twitch into a half smile in a temporary moment of sheer scientific excitement, and his face eventually settles on a very stern sort of look, lips parted as he scribbles madly.
"This... is... different."
ii. Outside;
He can't go back to sleep. Time seems to stretch on here, elongated and like a giraffe neck in comparison to the nice, neat, short and compartmentalized moments he's so used to. He's left rudderless, aimless without his research, and while he's already started to shift his work to solving this puzzle and trying not to focus too much on the one back home in order to retain his sanity here, it's difficult.
This dream, the wolves and the voice, even the word interloper is both a blessing and a curse. Heartman decides to go for a walk, bundling up as tightly as possible and throwing a blanket around his shoulders for good measure. The air is crisp, reminiscent of the mountain air swirling around his lab, but it has far more of a bite. Temperature, perhaps. Or the sense of foreboding that new dream has weighted him down with has clouded his judgement.
If someone else is taking a night walk, Heartman will politely raise his hand in greeting, sticking to the town itself and never straying too far from the community hall.
He does nip out a second time, this time to watch the sun rise, bundled just as tightly. For all of the unanswered questions he has, Heartman still has time to enjoy the natural beauty of it all. There's no Timefall to worry about. Just sheer, natural beauty.
Who: TDM continuation + a few open prompts re: prelude
What: The prelude dream doesn't bode well for someone like Heartman
When: Night of Jan 1st
Where: Community hall, Outside
Content Warnings: TBD, will update as needed
i. The Dream;
Heartman's a very light sleeper. Doing everything in 20 minute cycles means his body's circadian rhythm is severely off, if nonexistent at this point. There's no Beach to go to, no wandering black sand and smelling the salt and decomposing fish, following familiar footsteps until he tires himself out. It's just him.
When he does sleep, his dreams are never. It's usually the same dream, one Heartman stopped dreading once he knew the scientific reason but still finds deeply unpleasant. He should be glad--is glad--that he only suffers a mild case of DOOMS. He lacks the homicidal tendencies for one, the suicidal behaviour is thankfully non existent. The dreams, though. The nightmares are relentless, sharp and vivid but never in colour.
This dream is not the same.
Heartman wakes with a gasp in the community hall, hand flying to his chest out of habit--no, his heart is fine, it's still fine here--and knocking the sleeping person next to him in his hurried attempt to rise. His brow furrows, determined, panting from the adrenaline as he scrambles up and shoots to the closest scrap of paper on a table, knocking over a chair in his haste to reach for his glasses at the same time.
"It's different--" His lips frown deeply, immediately twitch into a half smile in a temporary moment of sheer scientific excitement, and his face eventually settles on a very stern sort of look, lips parted as he scribbles madly.
"This... is... different."
ii. Outside;
He can't go back to sleep. Time seems to stretch on here, elongated and like a giraffe neck in comparison to the nice, neat, short and compartmentalized moments he's so used to. He's left rudderless, aimless without his research, and while he's already started to shift his work to solving this puzzle and trying not to focus too much on the one back home in order to retain his sanity here, it's difficult.
This dream, the wolves and the voice, even the word interloper is both a blessing and a curse. Heartman decides to go for a walk, bundling up as tightly as possible and throwing a blanket around his shoulders for good measure. The air is crisp, reminiscent of the mountain air swirling around his lab, but it has far more of a bite. Temperature, perhaps. Or the sense of foreboding that new dream has weighted him down with has clouded his judgement.
If someone else is taking a night walk, Heartman will politely raise his hand in greeting, sticking to the town itself and never straying too far from the community hall.
He does nip out a second time, this time to watch the sun rise, bundled just as tightly. For all of the unanswered questions he has, Heartman still has time to enjoy the natural beauty of it all. There's no Timefall to worry about. Just sheer, natural beauty.
no subject
From anyone else, this might be wildly unrealistic optimism – or, more likely, sarcasm – but from Fraser it's wholeheartedly meant. He measures out spruce needles into the little pot as the melted snow comes to a boil, then turns his full attention on the other man. "How can I be of assistance?"
no subject
A beat. Not because Heartman is sure Fraser will judge him--quite the opposite, if anyone will understand it's him--but because saying it out loud to someone who isn't Deadman or Mama just feels...strange.
"I would count on others and the community hall for basic amenities. However, if I'm to be studying this phenomena--the aurora I've heard so much about, the shared dreams--I would much rather not disturb others. Especially if what I need is potentially..."
How to phrase this?
"Troubling."
He has no qualms with opening up and dissecting bodies, animals, whatever. He just doesn't want to do it in front of everyone else.
no subject
Physically limited; yes. Not that he thinks Heartman wouldn't push himself as far as possible if necessary, but they both of them know as far as possible wouldn't be much of a distance at all. Diefenbaker whines and sets his nose on his paws, apparently agreeing with their unspoken assessment.
But Fraser stays quiet, listening attentively, until Heartman has picked his way through what he's trying to say. Then, and only then, does he nod. "It sounds as though you might be best served setting up in one of these houses; perhaps one near the hall, so you might continue to utilize its resources and take advantage of the company."
Undoubtedly Heartman has come to the same conclusion; Fraser expects the other man was just leading him there. "Did you have a place in mind?"
no subject
"I do. But I'd need something else. Someone a little more able bodied I could rely on. Someone used to the harsh conditions, used to the weather shifting, quick to act, reliable. Knowledgeable. You, Constable Fraser."
no subject
[ And he certainly does. A permanent shelter close to the resources available in the hall and in the town will improve Heartman's outlook, but he'd still be at a disadvantage. His health, his lack of familiarity with the environment, his work – all of it points to the necessity of him having a companion of some kind.
Fraser glances at Dief, who has tipped his head up to watch Heartman as the scientist scratches his ear. ]
Well, we haven't staked out a place of our own yet, have we, Dief?
no subject
I assure you, I won't ask for too much of your time--merely assistance in chopping wood, or bringing in supplies, should I need them. What you do is to be respected, Like Porters, from back home.
no subject
[ Lieutenant Noonien-Singh will surely understand if he splits his time between two dwellings... although he suspects she would be more than willing to assist with Heartman's work, when she hears of it. ]
And I'm an old hand at chopping wood and bringing in supplies... though that was easier back when I had a dogsled. And a team.
[ A beat, as his eyes unfocus slightly while he reconsiders. ]
... And a store within a reasonable distance. But we'll make do.
no subject
Heartman looks over at Diefenbaker, the mental image in his mind one of sheer joy. He stares for a few seconds, lost in it, before inhaling and snapping himself out of it. ]
We'll make do. Keep on keeping on, as it were--thank you, Fraser.
[ He glances over at the horizon, smile soft. The sun will come up soon. ]
Shall we?
no subject
[ He pours a cup of spruce tea for Heartman, then gets to his feet, brushing snow off his pants as he stands. ]
Why don't you bring that along with us? Come on, Dief.
[ The wolf stretches, rises, and comes to trot alongside them as they walk, leaving the little lean-to behind. ]