WEEK FOUR

[shimmermods]

FOURTH WEEK

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The Shimmer may have left you physically, but it's always with you; it's something it had insisted on yesterday, and it's something that continues to be pervasive even now, both in thoughts and within you in other, perhaps more noticeable ways. The statements that have been made weigh heavily; your surroundings continue to be influenced by something or other - plants you recognize are still present here, even as the trees themselves continue to crystallize, growing glassy white and transparent around mechanical insides - and the changes to your physical bodies are becoming more evident and difficult to ignore.

Perhaps more disturbingly, when you went to sleep in the clearing there were sixteen of you.

When you wake up, there are fifteen.

No matter how many headcounts you take, you keep coming up one short; the fact of the matter is that Rean Schwarzer is no longer among you. There's no visible evidence of where he's gone, and all of his belongings are still here; perhaps in some part of your mind, the possibility registers itself - maybe he's not with you because he went to the Shimmer. Not in the same way the cultists went, and not in the same way the ring of bodies seems to have gone, but maybe...

The thought is difficult to shake; the fact of the matter is that he isn't here, and you probably don't want to stay here. After all, your options are currently either to do what you set out to do, to return to the base and very possibly be killed for your efforts, or to remain here with the corpses.

The hike uphill is steep; perhaps it's fortunate that you're no longer tiring out like you used to. It's easier to keep going nowadays, even if it feels somewhat mechanical in doing so; your limbs know what they're doing, even if there's some reason for your mind to disagree. You seem to be making good time in moving toward the site of the initial impact of the meteorite; perhaps it won't be much longer before you find your objective.

That is, if all goes according to plan.

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY | FRIDAY

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Comments

[klematis]

[ Time is a strange thing. Quick and fleeting, slow and agonizing. Which of the two describes the past several weeks is up to interpretation, but as always, Hugh's view tends to be different than everyone else's. This applies to the missing individual too, naturally. At least it seems that way, but since Sunday morning Hugh can be seen flourishing his sword during the hike. It's rare to see him have anything in hand than writing instruments, but perhaps he can't be blamed.

At night by the campfire Hugh can be found with a journal overflowing with notes in a scrawly script. He'll close the book if company gets too close, but it's in some strange language in addition to being as messy as the shimmer is troubling. ]

Good evening. Were you in the mood for a story or companionship?

campfire;

[aokisouhei]

Eh...yeah, sure. You got a story in mind?

[klematis]

I have many. But first—what kind appeals to you? Drama? Tragedy? Romance? Comedy?

[aokisouhei]

Romance! What can I say, I'm a sucker for 'em.

[ He's a romantic at heart, really.

...Not too keen on tragedies, though. ]

[klematis]

You're not the only one.

[ Perhaps Hugh himself is included in this number? ]

So then...

A long time ago, in a world far away from here, there was a group of children. Though they were different, they were inseparable; one was a scaredy cat, one was grumpy, one was kind, one was timid, and one went along just to hold onto their hands. It was a group of four boys and one girl. They were of the age where gender hardly mattered, that golden time when children just want to play together and explore.

All but one of the children, that is. You see, the kind child was something of an old soul, and he looked at the girl, the one who always held his hand as not simply a friend but a lifelong companion. He may not have had the words for it yet, but he considered her to be his wife. And the girl, well she was alright with this arrangement as long as she wasn't alone. The kind boy had even gifted her a ring made of a four leaf clover that she proudly wore all day until disintegrated; plants you see, make poor material for lifelong vows.

Together, in groups, in pairs, the children played and played until one fateful summer day. It was a school trip out into a forest and a lake, teeming with creatures though none more dangerous than the errant bee. But the group of children were determined to go off on their own adventure, and they found themselves at the lake. None of them could really swim, but if they just splashed in the waves it didn't really matter.

Or so they thought.

Even the most grizzly ocean explorer can misjudge the power of the tide, and in no time flat what was once safe, was suddenly too deep for them to stand. All but the girl and the scaredy cat were able to make it back to shore. The kind boy knew what he had to do.

[ A pause here for breath and also reaction. Unfortunately, this story may be a tragedy, or perhaps it's just one right now. Time is weird like that. ]

[aokisouhei]

...

[ Lancer wasn't expecting such a thought-out, suddenly drama-angst romantic story like this from Hugh. He was probably anticipating a casual romance between two lovers in a distant land...

Ah well, he's heard enough Irish folktales to have an idea of where this was going (not to mention his own origins regarding that, but hey.) ]

That sounds like things went to the shit real fast. But, what'd he do? Did he try to go back for those two? I mean, probably, right? He's a kind boy and his lover's out there, along with his other friend!

[ ...He really was getting into this story, apparently. ]

Campfire

[crestological]

[...it’s been a rough weekend and things have only gotten weirder, so like,]

Ah, well, both are fine, really.

[...but don’t think he didn’t see that book!!]

Perhaps... something from that book of yours would be interesting!

[TIME TO BE FUCKIN NOSY!!!]

[klematis]

Aha, cutting to the chase are we? [ He runs a gloved hand over the cover. ]

Well I suppose I don't mind, but these are all stories I witnessed firsthand. So in return, would you tell me one of your own?

[crestological]

Ah, I see! Well, would you like a legend from my world, or something I personally witnessed?

...Actually, I suppose I could easily combine them!

[klematis]

I don't think I could resist two for the price of the one. Would you prefer to start, or shall I?

[crestological]

Oh, now you’re making me curious about what you have! But I suppose I am a bit excited to talk about the time two of my former students tracked down a magic beast...

campfire

[alchemicals]

[He's not really one for lots of companionship, but you know what, if the weird guy's offering stories, he might as well just- ]

I'd like to hear what kind of stories you've got, sure. Surprise me, if you want, I'm not really picky.

[klematis]

...very well. Even horror, in a place like this?

[ He will totally spin the roulette wheel but just makin' sure. Maybe even Hugh is trying to pay closer attention to other's well beings after Rean went poof. ]

[alchemicals]

What, like I'll scare easily? This sort of place is better for horror than most, I think.

[klematis]

It is. But depending on your taste, that can be a negative instead of a positive.

[ Manners, or something like it. Either way, he's flipping through his notebook for the perfect story. ]

[alchemicals]

True enough. But I think I can handle whatever you throw at me - I'm not really a big romantic, but other than that go wild.

Hike

[instrumentalized]

[ Garma usually has his hands full with the hiking itself whenever they're on the track somewhere, because his constitution isn't the best even without a healing gunshot wound... but the sword is very notable, and also very curious. Garma is just going to speed up a little so he can actually catch up with Hugh for a closer look. ]

That's a rather antiquated weapon. Do you think it'll be of use here?

[klematis]

The classics are the classics for a reason. [ He'll slow his pace down once he catches sight of Garma, how thoughtful! ]

But I think so, yes. If it isn't, it's not like I don't know how to wield a gun, I should use the one Wesker gave me sometime.

[instrumentalized]

"Gave" is such a generous term.

[ He chuckles at it, though. Wesker so deserved this theft. ]

I suppose you're right though, much of what could attack us here seems likely to be close combat range anyway.

[klematis]

I know.

[ He laughs a little, because he agrees Wesker deserved this or not, he does like to tease regardless. Even the dead. ]

The Shimmer has been generous in that regard so far, I think. Ah, perhaps I should have worded that differently?

[instrumentalized]

Well, I doubt it was thinking of our comfort in the slightest.

[ It doesn't seem to like them very much and that's certainly mutual. ]

At the same time, it's also not gone out of its way to kill us faster or more efficiently - so your word choice doesn't ring entirely inappropriate.

campfire contes

[bornandbread]

[In some cases, the pen is mightier than the sword, but rarely perhaps you can dual wield a little. Jean doesn't remark on the swordsmanship displays during the day, just as he refrains from remarking overmuch on the corpse & clone endeavors of the research team and so on--

But he nevertheless isn't averse to watching, or to sating his curiosity -- which is one of the reasons he joins the campfire more often than not. He's seen enough of Hugh scribbling away that he doesn't really attempt to peek, but:]

Something from your current writings?

[klematis]

Or from the past. But, they tend to intermingle either way.

[ He's paused in his writing but hasn't closed his journal yet. ]

[bornandbread]

Ah. Travel journals?

[A faint tilt of his head; he observes the act of writing more than the writing in itself, still. Presumably it would be hard to read anyway.

Most writing is nowadays...]

[klematis]

Yes, exactly. You could say it's my duty to record what I see.

[ His handwriting is a mess and it's basically moonrunes from Space Channel Five. ]