Brrrr it’s cold in here

[pippilongsockings]

The Body Heat Meme



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.

Comments

sumeragi subaru | x/1999

[sacral]

[enbashira]

( there's a certain loneliness to the edges of the city. small rivers and little bridges dot the countryside, where crops grow in neat little rows, tended to by creatures that look like monsters; crows come, perched on fence posts or the dummies they toss into the fields, hungry for a bit of grain or the squelched earth of the rice paddies out beyond. the excitement and vigor of the hell city itself is lost, out here, as though too far in the distance to be affected--this, here, feels more like death itself, a quiet, numbing sort of cold that drenches out the sky, cold and blue and stretching out to distances he thinks no one has ever walked before. there are stars, though he doesn't know why, and small lanterns that mark houses out in the distance, but beyond that, he can't see a thing. the world disappears at the horizon and he isn't sure what they would find if they ventured out even further.

tonight, they don't have to. there had been some sort of disturbance, outside of the usual, a mission that surprisingly they had both been chosen to go on. he imagines that he had been picked, in some ways, to rub salt into the wound of his existence here: so much of him longs to cut down the demons that he sees, and yet he doesn't think he should; if he's truly in hell, then so be it. for subaru, however, he thinks that he was picked mostly for his skillset: he hadn't seen him work, until earlier, when subaru had worked to resolve them of the spirit that had been causing a ruckus. he thinks that if subaru had lived, during his time, he would have made a fine demon slayer.

but they're both here, instead. it's nearing dinnertime, the sky that dark blue-black that fades into night, and they're a good few hours outside of the city. with his hand on his belt, holding gently to the hilt of his sword, he moves to where subaru has been standing for quite some time now, on the edge of one of the small bridges. )

Young Sumeragi. ( it's his usual voice, full of warmth, though he tempers it down: a little quieter, to suit the mood that seems to hang on subaru's shoulders. he stands a comfortable distance from him, as though politely not claiming the space beside him out of respect. ) I imagine we'll need to find a place to rest!

( glinting, round eyes watch subaru's profile--and then, with a small smile: )

You are shivering.

[sacral]

[ in truth, it matters very little where subaru is. hell had opened up on his home regardless of his intent and presence, great creatures of scale and tooth and claw rending the flesh of tokyo from the bone of the earth. if the stars fell from the sky then that would have simply been fate, a concept that had once enthroned him and then unseated him in the same cosmic breath. he belonged until suddenly he didn't, until he was told to belong here. human, demon... that is a line he has always pressed at with his heart first and his hands second. these motions are familiar to him — the long whispering draw of chaos in the dark, spirits stayed beneath gentle hands and a steely demeanor that doesn't suit him. that is his method.

even so, the air here is... desolate. subaru perhaps should have expected as much on the outskirts of a realm that calls itself hell. in that eerie twilight, there are deceptively ordinary signs of life: the pale incandescence of the village, the flow of river water over its black basin. and then — ]

Rengoku-san.

[ this man. a partner of sorts, even if only temporarily.

where subaru whispers back to the darkness, rengoku kyojuro sets it alight, meeting one draw with another, a brilliant parry to fend off the night.

subaru startles but it's a pale reaction, dredged up from his inner thoughts by a radiance that he knows is being measured for his sake. to receive such warmth would be a shock to anyone's veins, he's certain. there is nothing much in the fogginess of one eye, but his good one softens into the lines of his expression. apologetic. he's not used to working in a pair and it shows, though he declines to be outwardly insensitive to kyojuro's presence. it's simply new.

his gaze returns to the contours of his hands folded against the rail of the bridge, ghosts in their own right. he is shivering. ]

It seems so. If you'll allow me a moment...

[ in time with his voice, there's a flutter overhead, a whisper of magic and paper. a white bird wheels in from the direction of the village like a messenger on manifested wings. ]

...it seems there's an inn we can try. We should be able to access it with the seals we received from the bureau. Though I don't know how well we'll be received.

[enbashira]

( the flutter, a catch of it up above them, forces his gaze to wander, bright and round and curious, to the source--the patch of white in a sky that's darkened into night makes him smile, in some way, like it's more than a messenger of where they can stay for the night and instead some kind of solace for the events of the evening. it's not the first time that he's missed his crow from back home: a steady, constant companion, ready to leap to action at a moment's notice, and subaru's pretty paper creations, surely made from seals, may not be able to stay for as long, but he wonders if they offer some measure of comfort to him all the same. his hands itch to reach up and touch, but he knows better than to interrupt--especially given the nature of them.

so there's a firm nod, decisive, at the information, and his head swings in the direction of the village. they likely won't be well-received, though he's had a surprising amount of tolerance within the city; still, out here, further away from the insurgence of outsiders, they may meet a crueler hand. he's more worried about the state of subaru's shaking fingers than anything they might find at their destination. )

Then it's to the inn! ( a pitch of boisterous good-nature brings his voice up, and then back down again; he seems to remember himself only after the fact. ) Would you tolerate the imposition of requesting that you keep close to me?

( it isn't that he doesn't trust subaru's abilities: far from it, in fact. it's more that he worries for the chill that might set in, the further that they walk. the slight breeze from the water under the bridge is chilling; the night air will settle over them like a cold, wet sheet as they head towards the village inn, and he doesn't want to risk something happening to subaru. these sorts of nights are familiar to him, in a way--after all, demons would never come out into warm daylight.

without waiting for a definite answer, he pivots slightly on his heels, moving just past subaru enough to show, somewhat patiently, that he'll wait to match his pace. a part of him thinks that even if he were to reach out and offer the man the weight of his haori, he would be met with polite refusal; if it gets worse, he may have to impose with that despite it. )

[sacral]

[ he supposes any societal structure functions about the same, whether the realm belongs to that of the living or that of the dead — or perhaps governed by the mysterious third thing that treads between the two. that's what this place has always felt like, an in between rather than the transgressional bleed-over that the sumeragi and the sakurazuka once governed. the farther one ventures from the familiar maw, the closer one gets to extremity, to chill and to the threat of a grip that may close at any moment.

it doesn't placate him but it doesn't bother him either, as if he is also committed to treading that area in between alive and dead with his body acting as collateral.

purgatory, he recalls. purgatory is like that.

overhead, the shikigami messenger wheels and flutters ahead of kyojuro to mark their path. and in the intent to follow, the other man's sweep past him is a kiss of firelight in the dark. straightening, subaru hesitates at the edge of the bridge but ultimately nods, moving to fall into step with him. from the surrounding areas, he recalls his scouts, two other birds of similar size and papery color. on approach, one dissipates and the other alights on kyojuro's shoulder; because they are imbued with subaru's spiritual force, they're sensitive to the human wants around him. even one so small as a desire to reach out and touch. in the veil of night, the rhythm of human companionship comes too easily, footstep after footstep.

it's still odd, after all this time. to be offered a kindness that rubs him raw enough to yield the receptiveness beneath. ]

What you're offering can't be called an imposition. [ he admits that much. ] Though I can't say that I'm someone you should be concerned about either.

[enbashira]

( it's a strange way to put things, he thinks. it isn't unheard of, though, and he's always endeavored to understand and listen for the hearts of those around him, rather than balk at their way of thinking; even his own father, tarnished as he was by drink and harsh words, had a way of looking at the world that he thinks he could have understood. even so, understanding does not diminish pain; looking at subaru, no matter if he's stood perched at the end of a bridge, staring down into the dark nothingness of the water below, or quietly in step beside him, his movements resolute but receding, there's no mistaking the burden of pain that hangs over him, a noose where his head sits but his neck hasn't yet the strength to break. if he could put his hands through and snap the rope himself, he would: but it's beyond him, at this point, somewhere he just can't quite reach.

the sound of the water becomes a distant trickle, the further they move past it. the fields at either side seem to sway with the chill of the breeze, and despite it, he thinks that this purgatory could be a rather beautiful place if it were only devoid of the creatures that inhabit it. the distant rice paddies and crops remind him of traveling between towns back home; knowing what he knows, he figures he'll never see such a thing again. the thought is soft, almost bittersweet, but his expression is hard to falter; one hand lifts, tuts a long finger for the white paper bird on his shoulder, rubbing at its constructed beak as though it could possibly be a creature of flesh and blood. he'd like to pull a stalk of wheat for it to nibble at--longing is a hard thing to contain. )

Why are you undeserving of my concern? ( it doesn't sound judgmental--it's curious, warm words passed in the small space between them; his shoulder could touch subaru's if he only moved an inch to the left. ) You are my companion. It's natural that I should want to watch over you.

( --which doesn't imply any weakness, but only his own desires. he knows that subaru does not need help protecting himself; his powers are fluid, beautiful things that beget admiration. he has a well of it inside of him, he thinks, more than he's put to show in this place.

rather: )

I worry, in fact, that you do not concern yourself with your own well-being enough.