Tried to come up with an artistic way to say, they don't know you, and neither do I

[carnagecarnival]

 Who| Initiate, Psii, and Sam
What| Post-amputation drinking and leftover valentine food. Making smores.
Where| Just outside an ice-cave, nearby to the lake and forests.
When| a little bit after the amputation.
WARNINGS| language, drinking

He wakes to stinging, prickling cold on one side, and intense heat upon the other. Neither sensation is quite strong enough to overpower the pain in his leg. It makes him sputter, shudder, and cringe. But, he realises, he's free. He can see stars above. Was it a few minutes, hours, days? He's not proper sure. Morphling and injury like such had disoriented him in the past, though not to the degree of their combination. 

It has him all unsure, when he looks over, if what he's seeing is really real. Not only is Sam sitting by, still there-- when he had no reason to be-- but the Psiioniic's there too. The Psiioniic who had even less reason. He blinks and squints like he can cast away the illusion, but it's all truth up before him. Motherfucker's is still being there. There's a grip on his heart and a nervous churn in his guts. 

You stayed. 

The words get caught up on his teeth and fall back inside. 

He turns his head from them, to the backpack laying close. First comes hauling himself up to sitting. He feels the lack up of his other foot, but he tries not to focus on it. Instead, he reaches for that pack to dig up inside it, not saying a word. At least not until he's hauled out the leftovers of his capitol gifted date-meal from days ago, and two bottles of vodka. Two more than he ever wanted.  He rolls one over to Sam, and the other to the Psiioniic. 

"Ain't need them," He says. "IF YOU GOT FANCY UP FOR IT, THEY'S YOURS. Got some food bits herelike too."

Not 'Evening', or 'Sorry', or 'Thanks'. Simply, 'Do you want food?'

Comments

[biiowiired]

"Fuck no, I'm not going anywhere near that lake. Creatureth like that are the reathon I hate large bodieth of water. I can find a tree and make another thpear. Or I can make a rope thnare. There are many wayth to kill animalth that don't involve a thuithide mithion to fetch one goddamn impaling prong."

Psii had designated himself to run outside errands, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. "Unleth humanth can magically heal, you're thitting the fuck down. I'm altho leaving becauthe quite frankly all thith talk of cricketth and pancaketh ith making me hungry."

Psii considered Sam's knife as he chewed his s'more slowly, then finally decided it would be most tactically advantageous if he borrowed it. These gimps were basically screwed if they were attacked here anyway, no matter how good their knives were. Psii may as well come back alive to feed them while they healed up. He pocketed the knife, then waved his second marshmallow in front of the fire just long enough to scare it.

"Thankth. I'll try it out. No uthe getting mythelf killed while hunting. I'll leave my thtone knife with you, Sam. It'th not all that sharp, but it'th long and I've thtabbed a few thingth with it jutht fine."

[carnagecarnival]

Man was made of miracles is what. Getting all promised presentational of cinnamon rolls right by the door? God. Damn. Is motherfucking what. He half wishes wriggler trials had held promise of cinnamon rolls up at the end. Yeah the lusii were nice and all but he'd not have said no to bonus cinnamon rolls. A nice sweet after a long few days of death matches.

But that's getting to far behind himself when he could be looking ahead, going all to say, "FUCK, YEAH, I'D FIGURE THERE'D BE." Not that he found them often.

Or instead of all that, he could recall the presence of one the universes' biggest cynics. He frowns but lets the topic of the spear go. He's not going to win that one, and really, the Psiioniic had a point. It was mostly his feeling responsible, knowing it was Clementine's gift and she was out there lacking fish and food right about now.

His mouth opens to say something, only for him to falter and spend several minutes up in debate, before at last finding the words. Words he speaks without looking, as not to make this more awkward than it already up and was. "Be safe, aight."

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Don't think he's not going to remember that reaction, Kurloz. Two cinnamon roll deliveries coming up, soon as they're out of this arena.

The mention of snares reminds Sam that he's got more than a few traps out there. For a moment, he considers telling Psiioniic to check them, trying to explain where they are - but it's more hassle than it's worth, really, and they're probably farther away than would make it useful. That, and the rest of Sam's allies back in the caves know where the traps are, too, and might be counting on them for food.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sitting the fuck down." Sam's never been one to insist on doing everything himself. That's the point of having a team, division of labor, and he's not going to protest the most able of them heading out to hunt. Especially when someone'll have to stay to protect Kurloz, and Sam knows himself well enough to know that the leg injury won't hamper his ability to do that too much.

"Don't hunt on a stomach only full of sugar, brother," he adds, digging out a handful of venison jerky wrapped in some fabric scavenged from a parachute. "And don't try to protest, I've got more than enough for me n' Initiate if it comes down to it."

[biiowiired]

Psii picked crumbs off himself. Dusting them off was for food-wasting chumps. He took Sam's jerky without protest and pocketed it for later. He might want its smell to lure animals near while he ate it.

"Remember to arrange watcheth while I'm gone. If the wind blowth your thcent towardth the water, hide yourthelveth and all your shit. I'll try to bring back thome water, too."

He was grabbing his baskets and rope.

"And try not to light a fire at night, you're more vulnerable with jutht the two of you--"

Psii found he couldn't bear to have people die on his watch, like a fucking lusus. God damn it. He had a problem. He huffed a sigh and abruptly turned down the slope he meant to navigate.

[carnagecarnival]

"BROTHER, I LIVED UP ON ALTERNIA TOO. Know on how to be looking after." The You don't need to worry about me gets tucked on away. He doesn't figure the Psiioniic much to be listening to him one way or another.

This isn't his style. He can't wait dependent on people like this. Maybe it worked for some motherfuckers but for him, it wasn't no good an idea. Waiting was a death sentence. Always had been. All he could hope was that Sam wasn't having no inclusion by that for association.

He remembers the nights alone. No matter how injured, no strife took him out. But he could cull then. He can't now. So instead he watches the trees, every part but where the Psiioniics back has disappeared into. He watches for threat and he watches for any means to make a trap he can, ignoring the ghost of his missing leg.

Sam's still here. At least the company's nice. Even if he can bring himself to even look on over.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam doesn’t protest that he’s pararescue, he knows how to survive. Neither of them really know what that even means, so it’s pointless to keep harping on that. Even if he kind of wants to.

Maybe he’ll teach a class, when he gets back. “Pararescue for Otherworlders.” It has a certain ring to it.

Instead, he just gives Psiioniic an easy salute as he heads out, watching him go before he turns his attention back to Kurloz.

Don’t think he hasn’t noticed that lack of eye contact there. Sam watches him for a moment, then scoots over around the fire so he’s sitting next to him.

He doesn’t say anything, but after a moment he bumps his shoulder lightly against Kurloz’s. Then does it again, hard enough that it’s closer to a shove than a shoulder bump.

[carnagecarnival]

He's still avoiding looking over, ignoring the shuffles as he assumes Sam to be busying himself with what all motherfucking ever. He feels the first bump, but doesn't make too much noise for it.

Then the shove is near toppling him over and his hand is going out to balance him. He shoves quickly on back, trying not to smile.

He doesn't succeed. Even if it's a weak one, it's there.

The next bump is just him leaning on Sam, letting slip a sigh. There's a lot he could say. But then, there's also enough he ain't sure he ought to.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

There they go, that’s what Sam’d been shooting for. Weak or not, Sam’ll take it, and he shoots a smile back as he exaggerates the effects

When he leans back, he slides his arm around Kurloz’s shoulder. There’s a lot they could talk about, but Sam doesn’t really want to talk right now.

Well. Not about any of what they probably should, anyway.

“Last time I was in a place this cold sitting around a campfire, I was in the middle of the desert. It’s crazy, you know, most of the time you’re cooking, but in the middle of the night it’s goddamn freezing and you’re huddled together around a fire, missing the heat. Ri, he was the worst one of all. Midafternoon, he’d be bitching about feeling like a hot dog or a fried egg or whatever other food he was craving right then, come nighttime? I swear, that dumbass had the coldest hands and feet of anyone I ever met.”

[carnagecarnival]

It's not fair. It's not fair how much he likes this brother or the way things is going with the Psiioniic, or even the fact that Signless is out of reach. It's not fair that he would stick by all three and happily so.

Sam's a human. Humans don't feel this sort of things like trolls do. The Psiioniic can't and wouldn't and motherfucking shouldn't. The Signless deserves so much better-- no matter how he pities the whole world, it doesn't seem right doing the same. It already doesn't feel right because he killed him. He just wants to not think about it. He just wants the comfort Sam gives easy and to pretend it's just as easy back.

Sam starts speaking and he just closes his eyes, just lets the tale be told. It makes him smile a little more. He almost feels like he can know the brother, through things like this. Get a little proper picture of how he'd be kicking back in shangri-la. He imagines him with shades and one of them big fuzzy nut drinks with the umbrella straws as was like on Capitol messaging pictorials.

"BET MINE ARE COLDER," He says, knowing full damn well they will be. Especially compared to him. Brightbloods, all humans, bright as his Signless. Warm enough he sometimes wonder at how they ain't burn. Right now he just saps the heat off Sam and he ain't even sorry.

"Never went out to the deserts so much. TOO MANY DEAD GETTING THEIR WALK ON. Shores was cold sometimes but never like this. ONLY SAW THIS THING AS YOU CALL SNOW HERE. So beautiful." He shivers despite himself and laughs a little for it. "CAN DRAW ON THE WINDOWS, YOU KNOW? Pictures stay on even later. TILL THE AVOXES COME. And then in the morning it sparkles like a billion bitty little crystals." He asks, "YOU EVER HAVE SNOW AND ICE WHERE AT YOU WAS FROM?"

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Maybe humans don’t feel exactly what it is that trolls do there, but Sam knows they can do something close. He’s purposefully stopped asking Kurloz questions about it now, because he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to pinpoint exactly what the whole moirail thing is, not when what Kurloz has told him about it sounds like something he might want, like something he could do. It’s easier if Sam just assumes that he doesn’t completely understand it, so he doesn't have to go there.

So he can just sit here with his arm around Kurloz's shoulders and talk, the way he used to do with Riley, telling him stories of Sam's siblings back when they were stuck with nothing to do but kill time. The way he'd started to do back home, now that talking about Riley doesn't hurt so much, now that it helps keep him alive.

He chuckles Kurloz's bet. "He'd take that as a challenge, you know. Least you're not shoving them under my shirt like a jackass."

Then he falls quiet, listening to Kurloz talk. This is familiar, too, trading stories that don't have much to do with where they are now, just a way to get their minds of things. Then he grins at the question. "Hell yeah, man. Anyone teach you about snowball fights?"

[carnagecarnival]

"Naw. TEREZI AND I WAS ALL WORKED AT UNCOVERING SUCH MYSTERIES. Worked it out we up and motherfucking did, me and she." And Albert had come in around then, making like he had shit serious to tell only to wish them on well at each other. The fucker. "SNOW COATED WE WAS. And then I got my ass some hot chocolate as like my best girl, Nameless, used to do."

It'd been a nice moment. Kind of like this is.

He raises his brows at Sam. "HOPE YOU AIN'T CALLING DARE OF ME. Would warn not to dare, brother. I'LL MOTHERFUCKING DO IT. All sapped up will you be and I'll be the warmest highblood as ever fucking was." By all right and logic, it probably ain't a wise choice right now.

"HATE TO PREACH IT. Your homie Riley wouldn't stand no chance against me, yo. VICTORIES AIN'T TO BE DENIED WHAT'S MINE," He teases.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

"Covered in snow and hot chocolate, hell yeah. Sounds like you two unlocked the secret all on your own." He gives Kurloz's shoulder a squeeze. "It ever snows again, you and me are gonna have a hell of a snowball fight. Maybe build snow forts and organize a capture the flag."

All things that Sam had done as a kid - and honestly, well into his teenage years and even more recently.

Despite everything, Sam's eyebrows raise right on up back at Kurloz when he tells him not to dare him. "Yeah? You can try, Makara, if you're actually thinking you got a shot. I promise not to gloat too much over your disappointment."

This is probably a terrible idea, but Sam goads him on anyway. It's what he's used to - he and Riley'd always done it to each other, it's so damn nice to fall back onto it.

[carnagecarnival]

Snow forts and capture the flag. Neither was things he'd ever done as a kid. He's about to ask about it, the details of this capture the flag and what things would be of motherfucking requirance to it, and if it was anything at all like what came of Signless's crowning last or if he's got his human things all mixed up as happens sometimes.

But then Sam says what he up and says and he's already reaching his hands under snow to get them even colder than their corpse-cold normalcy. He's one shot away from a seadweller. Ice ain't hardly melt in his hands. Sam is a motherfucking dead human.

The dare is on. The Initiate grins wickedly, made all the worst by his rows of fangs. He spins into a position that will better allow movement and dives for Sam, grasping on to drag him close.