meme posting acct (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2019-10-24 10:46 am
meeem) wrote in bakerstreet2019-10-24 10:46 am
Entry tags:
body heat
Post with your character! They're now stuck in a very cold place of your choice. It can be anything, such as a freezing chamber, a cavern or a small cabin in the midst of a blizzard. The choice is up to you.
Comment around! Now your character has some company in this bone-chilling environment. The two of them share two things in common: clothes completely unfitting for this weather (be they summer clothes or even lingerie) and a blanket. A blanket? Yes, just one warm blanket and no other ways to escape the cold. The two of them will have to share it in order to stay alive in this weather. Don't worry, you're sure to find a common language in this terrible situation!
So, uh, have fun, I suppose. Try to not freeze to death!
Protip: friction and body heat are both excellent ways to fend off cold.
no subject
[The kids that'd seen him though. That would've been a reminder to be a little more careful with where he went, to check if he was being tailed. But... it's not. No-one knows this village better than its inhabitants, and ...honestly, without what they'd said to Nier, this wouldn't be happening. They wouldn't have spoken, he wouldn't have been coming with them, and (for the moment) just as importantly, they wouldn't be... doing this.
This.
He needs to back up. His hands loosen, instinctively as , of course, he's going to try and create some distance. He needs to, even if he doesn't want to. Perhaps his hesitation is proof of that. He's usually brisk with everything he does. Quick to retreat from contact especially.
But now? He's lingering a little. But he gets there. With a long inhale, he untangles himself from the other's armour and makes his way to a window, moving back ruined, aged and dusty fabric coverings and using his halfglove to wipe off years and years worth of accumulated grime as well as more recent condensation on the inside of the panel. Outside is... grey. The snowstorm must've hit. The building's secure enough, but even the lights of (close) buildings are a struggle to make out.]
As soon as this clears, we need to get going. We've wasted enough time.
no subject
[ the warmth that once lingered is quickly lost to the air, and nier takes a step forward, peering through the window with hard eyes. he’s a few inches away from cloud, and oddly enough, it’s as though there’s a world’s worth of distance between them now — after that. the wind whistles and rattles against the thin walls of the shack, and a frenzied blur of white is reflected in his eyes. ]
...It’s pretty.
[ rain either. the planet he was from was on the verge of death, and hadn’t known the wonders of life in a long while. not the way the humans before them had. suddenly, a glance is thrown in cloud’s direction, and he wordlessly peels off one arm warmer...and then the next. it leaves his forearms exposed, giving way to musculature that rarely saw the light of day.
he gestures them towards cloud. ]
We might be here for awhile. Your clothes aren’t fit for the winter.
no subject
[He's regretting moving, to be honest. He can feel his body temperature dropping already, and just looking outside is making him cold. That and...
No. He needs to stop thinking about the fact that little bit on contact felt good. How long had it been since he'd touched a
liveperson?]...But. Yeah. It's pretty.
[He stares out of the window once more, just a fleeting glance. He's got too much sense to attempt to make it make to the inn though. It's only a short distance, but they can't see. They could go in any direction- to the inn, or right over the edge of the cliff the little town built around the inn perches on.
Nier's instincts are good- staying here would be best.
But when he turns, he's surprised to see bare arms, strong arms, with a series of scars littering the elbow upward in plain sight. Some of them are glancing- it seems. Telltale marks of any swordsman. But some are deep- cruel. As if something not human inflicted them. The sign of anyone that made a living doing things others didn't want to do.
But one thing surprises him- the heavy, padded arm warmers being waved at him.]
I'm all right. [If he says he is, he'll be that way. He's... used to not taking care of himself. So he can keep saying it. That'll be enough.] You need them, too.
[He rehangs the fabric, before making his way to him. He won't say it, but in his eyes is a question. Maybe. He wants to ask about body heat again. Maybe.]
no subject
...They’ve been kind. I want to repay the favor one day.
[ the cold is a danger in of itself. but to have frozen water be pelted at you year round...he couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around the very prospect. still, the blankets of pure white were soothing to look at. they were nothing like molted, earthy tones he bore witness to before.
if it weren’t for cloud, he would have left already. the risk was nothing to fear — but there’s someone else he needs to take care of, now. so when cloud draws closer with the intention of returning his arm warmers, he accepts them — but they’re folded and stuffed back into his pouch instead of being worn proper, and his fingers promptly move to wind around his wrist.
his grip is loose enough that cloud can pull away of his own volition, but rigid enough that what he wants is clear. ]
Then stay close to me.
[ it’s a suggestion more than it is an order. but he’s righteous, and he always has been. the palm of his hand slides into his in a single motion, and this time the bare skin of his forearm sweeps against cloud’s. ]
I can’t just let you freeze here.
no subject
[It's an idea though. A good one and a thoughtful one as well. There are places worse off, but Nier's right. This place had been kind to him, and it was his prerogative to pay it back.
There's also some chocobo tracks southeast too, so perhaps they could make extra money doing that as well as seeing to their needs by raising other animals. That is, if they could keep the monsters away. He seems to consider Nier's statement, nodding his head slightly in agreement.
When Nier's fingers move around his wrist, he keeps his gaze levelled at his eyes, but silently steps forward. Again, he's unsure. Something in him tells him not to get close- not to get attached. But what he wants drowns out any form of self-defence his brain throws out at him. It rages, silently, in his head, but he swallows it, pressing the (relative) warmth of the inside of his wrist- sinew and tendon, vein and artery, against Nier's own. And he tilts his head upward, again, breathing warm air against the other's jerkin.
And his response is mumbled.]
Thanks.
[And.]
Where you're from- does it snow?
no subject
[ the expression on his face is one of vague confusion, akin to that of a dumb dog’s — tourist...tourist...what did that mean again? weiss would be particularly useful right now, he realizes. ]
It’s Shinra who’s causing these problems, isn’t it? Then they need to be eliminated.
[ a simple minded approach: there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. It’s foolish of a man who destroyed one world to consider the wellbeing of another, but hadn’t it been men and women just like these who brought his world to ruin?
he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he would like a future better than his own for his friend.
pulse against pulse, the warmth slowly creeps back into his system. not all of it is the byproduct of the little friction there is between them now. nier minimizes the distance by docking his hip right next to his, and his free hand motions towards his shoulder only to bring him closer. the heat of his skin underneath the palm of his hand is fleeting, and he swallows down the urge to pursue it. ]
It doesn’t. No rain, either. But I think—I think I saw it once...
[ his eyes gaze past cloud and through the window. they’re searching for something that isn’t there. ]
Or maybe, that wasn’t... [ the sight of a building, grey and jutting towards the sky, clips through his mind. there’s snow. it’s everywhere. people are screaming. he pauses, lips parting. ] That wasn’t...I’m not—
[ his voice lowers an octave, the floodgates of rage having opened at the memory of someone who shouldn’t exist. someone who existed before him. who was him. who took everything from him.
...and he yanks his hand away. nier slowly winks back into reality. the way his stomach twists with guilt is unbearable. ]
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just...
[ there is no explaining. all he can do is look at him as his features soften into a pathetic, remorseful frown. ]
I remembered something. Wasn’t your fault.
no subject
[Nier's confusion at the word is kind of surprising. Kind of. But in a sense, it's not. There's people from all kinds of towns which are practically outposts of absolutely nowhere- even more remote then Nibelheim or Gongaga. It's easy to think that Nier could simply be from one of those places.]
This happened thousands of years ago. But the Shinra are drilling into the ground and sucking up the Lifestream. Their reactors convert it into mako energy, which powers lighting, things like that monitor, other machinery too. People pay for it because it gives them an easier life. There's no fires to keep lit, No need to make lanterns. You push a button and it's there.
[But.]
What they're doing is killing the planet, slowly. The Lifestreams like blood. When it's extracted and used- the planet can't make more.
[Well. 'Making more.' That's another thing entirely. Barret would continue. He'd say that the planet was screaming, that it was weak already, but he... doesn't have the same penchant for drama the older man has. So, he leaves it there. He's got enough information to get it.]
We're after the Shinra. But we're after Sephiroth, as priority. He's actin' on his own, and he's called something that's going to fall down from the sky, and create a bigger wound than that crater. Something that'll kill the planet. He's going to be there when it hits, he plans to absorb all of the Lifestream the planet'll send to repair the wound. All it has. Then, he's going to ride whatever's left of this planet to the next.
[And it's his fault. But he's too ashamed to mention it.]
...They're both dangers. But he's the bigger one, for the time being. When he's taken out, we're going after the Shinra.
[When Nier fumbles with his words, he would tilt his head to follow his line of vision, but his body language changes. His voice had lowered, his body had tensed to be harder, and he can feel his heart pounding even in his wrist.
He's... usually the one like this. He doesn't react as others would- as they have- to him by retreating or staring. Or expressing fear. Instead, he moves closer again, slipping his shoulders under the arm that'd lifted- brushing his hand against the other's palm once more, closing his fingers, lightly, other his cold hand.
He doesn't need to say anything. Because, at least with him, being expected to explain the explosion of pain between his eye sockets, pain in his heart, spreading from the core of his body outwards, to the point he'd lose his breath and crumple was always just as bad as reexperiencing whatever'd bored out of his brain. So...
He says what he wished would've been said to him on any of the times he'd been like this.]
...It's all right.
[And.]
You're not there any longer. C'mon.
[He's... a strangely formed thing, for sure. Not like Nier knew, but it came from not exactly being afforded a chance to grow properly from being in a laboratory from 16-20.
His height is meagre, his body is thin- almost painfully so- hips and shoulders narrow enough to suggest he was much younger than he was. But oddly, he's got rows of tightly wrought, lean muscle on his arms, his chest, and his legs. He's lean, but he's strong. Unnaturally so, actually- but he doesn't use that strength to give him a slight pull. But it's still more than he should have had.
If Nier allows, he'll guide him, carefully, to the corner of the room. And he'll carefully ease him down, curling up next to him.]
Take as long as you need. Breathe. We've got time.
no subject
[ there's a nod of the head to indicate that he's listening — and intently at that. were it weiss speaking, his attention would have gotten lost in that string of words a few seconds in. but he listens to cloud, taking note of each and every new idea he introduces to him.
...sephiroth. he wants to destroy this planet on move onto the next, he says. the irony of it all isn't lost on him. his features are still. ]
Whatever you want to do, I'll help. I'm on your side.
[ he knew little of this world, but he knew that much. truth be told, it was all he needed to know. even moreso now, when he's at risk of losing himself to something he told himself he'd defeated.
no, he'd lost. he'd done nothing but lose. he was born to, wasn't he?
cloud's voice is brisk — it's a gentle wind easing into a maelstorm, really, but nier hears it clearly. his heartrate slows, the sharp stream of andrenaline in his system gradually thinning out, and the hardness in his eyes tempers. he's thinking of another life. one consisting of 100 years worth of suffering, needles against his skin, sanitized floors and grotesquerie. it's his, but it isn't. it was his enemy's. or was it?
ashes to ashes, dust to dust. the soul will always return to the vessel.
cloud's weight shifts against his. he looks towards him, surprise flashing in his eyes for a change. nier's arm is drapped around him, and it coils, reaching for cloud. keeping him close. he says nothing as his hand closes around his, and wordlessly does he allow him to guide him.
when they've settled into the corner of the room, descending to the ground together, nier motions towards him. suddenly, his fingers are running through his hair — features benign, but tinged with a tangible kind of sorrow. ]
You're a kind person.
[ it's an intimate moment suspended in time, and shared with someone he'd barely gotten to know. but it happens no less, and his arms pull cloud into an embrace again. he stays like that, curled around him. ]
Thank you.
[ his body is soft in the strangest of places, and stronger in others. he wonders if it's malnourishment — or something else entirely. regardless, he rests his head against his. ]
I can tell...that life hasn't been easy for you. So...thank you.
no subject
[He has to catch himself to stop responding to the thanks with another thanks. And... starting a loop. Of thanks. That'd be awkward. Even more awkward than it already is. ...It's awkward. Kind of awkward. But it's not awkward too? It's strange. He's not exactly unguarded. He can't remember the last time he hasn't been guarded, actually,
but... It's kind of nice to be alone with him.
...If "nice" was the word.
Honestly, he's unsure if that's the word. There's a lot to be unsure of. Most of all, if he deserved anything that could remotely be considered nice after...
Perhaps Nier can feel it. Perhaps he could even see it. It all depended on whether or not he wanted to see- but his thoughts are somewhere else. They're waist-deep in cold, clear water, a barely warm girl, barely an adult, held in his arms. Her hair is loose. She's motionless. Her weight is nothing; but when he walks far enough, it's even less.
He releases his grip. She sinks. Her hair coils around her, the flow of the water obscuring her face as she sinks, and sinks, and sinks into darkness. She's consumed.
Then it- whatever this scene is- it shifts.
He's standing on a platform. The lighting is the same. The water is just as still. She's on her knees. The crudely fashioned slab of metal that he calls a sword at his back now is raised, high above her head. His mind is turmoil. His expression is panic. And he raises it higher.
It shifts again.
Perhaps the next one is the strangest for Nier to observe.
It's from Cloud's perspective, of Nier's face. Or the side of it, as observed from the crook of his neck. The fur at the nape of his neck is itchy. But in the memory, he doesn't want to move. That memory's over before it's even begun, and it clears. It's done. It's gone- and there's nothing more to be had.
But Nier. Now- He's hurting. That's obvious. Even after his pulse slows, even when his breathing evens out, when they're on the cold ground together and he can feel his fingers glancing his scalp, pressing slightly, twisting strands between his fingers.
If it were anyone else, he'd like to think he'd break those fingers. But he wouldn't. Not really. He'd just twist away and create more distance. Probably say something. But that's it. But the thought- none of them, actually, occur to him. His mind's blank. And it's a relief.
He sighs, faintly, soundlessly, letting Nier rest his head on his- tilting it just slightly to seek out the crook of his neck again. And. He meshes his fingers with his further, speaking lowly- imitating the way that Nier had moved his thumb against his palm earlier.
He. Doesn't want to comment on that. But he has to, doesn't he?]
No-one's had it easy.
no subject
even when he desperately sought freedom from the weight of living and being alive, he would be denied. that's why he was here, holding this man in his arms.
Look at my memory, he hears. it's a whisper, low and resounding, ricochetting against the constraints of his mind. the water that surrounds him is frigid enough to leave his calves burning from numbness. something is caught in his throat — it's the middleground between a scream and a cry. the pressure between his eyes threatens to split his head in half. this shouldn't be happening. why did this happen? her body is so delicate, so pale, but it smiles a serene smile no less.
he didn't know her. never really got to, did he? and he never would.
now he is holding a sword. it does not feel him with the feelings wielding a blade, ready to strike, should — there is no glee, no vindication, no adrendaline. all there is is frenzied, chest tightening panic. he can't see anything but his own two hands — no, she's there in the distance. right in front of him. he's going to kill her. his eyes are onf fire.
and now, all that remains is him. somehow, it's the last thing he wanted to see. it leaves him confused in a way the other two don't.
nier's grip on cloud doesn't falter. instead, his fingers become entangled in his, and he lets his hair whisk against his skin. he should be jumping out of his skin and headed for the hills right now. but he isn't. ]
It isn't your fault.
[ there's no need to specify what, exactly. that wasn't within his right. the heat of their breaths mingles in the little space there is left between them. ]
You're right. But your pain matters too.
[ for a moment, he forgets that his arms are threadbare — how strange. he's already pried this man open and crawled inside him without meaning to. but selfishly, and righteously, he wants to go deeper.
instead, his thumb grazes against his...as though he's reciprocating the gesture. like they're two children playing in secret. ]
Storm'll let up soon.
no subject
It isn't your fault.
What wasn't? Why... did he say that? Does he even want to know?
It... can be approached later. Discussed later. Because... no, he doesn't. This is all he's focusing on, and it's a relief, frankly. His head's usually spinning with a multitude of different things. Worries, concerns. Both his, and the group's. Because yeah. No-one's had it easy. If he was to be some sort of defacto leader, then their concerns are his.
Only now, it's not the case- of course, it's not- but it's almost as if that memory dump's cleared everything that's been rattling around since they'd left Midgar. Things that're unexplained, disjointed- from far earlier. Even more recent, fresher, more painful things aren't exactly gone. They're just numb.
With the howl of the wind outside, the rattling of the window panes- the occasional jolt of the door on its hinges, it's as if all of it is out there- not here.]
...Yeah. Then I'll introduce you to everyone. We'll go right away.
[They've spent too much time in this town.]