redmarsshit | redshift: tdm #5

redshift: tdm #5

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

a. don't be a sap.

Good morning, October 25th! Whether you're a confused new arrival or a current resident, you probably had some plans for today, right? Grab breakfast, visit a friend, pick some fruit, explore a new part of the massive city.

Well. Too bad. Because, as every single bot in the city will be telling you the moment you show your face, it's GOOP FESTIVAL DAY! What? You've never heard of it? Preposterous, everyone knows about the Goop Festival, it's one of the most anticipated holidays in Anchor! Haven't you been preparing for this for a week now?

The Goop Festival is a harvest celebration, in particular, a celebration of the sap-producing trees that grow wild in the Park, thick around the edges of the south side of the lake. The bots have been hard at work setting up the festival grounds in the shade of the trees in the balmy fall temperatures. There are spiles tapped into trees with buckets placed underneath that are already half-full of a thick, viscous, amber-colored sap. The bots have also set up troughs of shaved ice with long sticks nearby, with which they will demonstrate for excited residents (you are excited, right?) how to cool the sap in the ice and wrap it around the stick to make it a sort of taffy candy. That's not the only sweet surprise waiting, either.

A long table set up in the grass is loaded down with all sorts of delicious sap-related goodies, ranging from cupcakes with thick globs of sap-flavored frosting to sap-flavored jerky to sap sugar candies, and just about anything else you can imagine. There are a wide variety of offerings that would taste good coated, flavored, or glazed with the sap, which tastes sort of like a caramelized toffee. Another table is laid out that has row upon row of cups, each half-full of the sap, heated lightly to a thinner consistency and served similarly to hot chocolate - at least, if hot chocolate gave you a floaty, happy, hazy sort of feeling. Everything made with this sap does, actually, with the cups of pure sap having a stronger effect and items with less sap content having barely any effect at all.

Does this not sound like your cup of weird tree sap? Too bad. This is the GOOP FESTIVAL, and everything is shut down for this lovely paid vacation day. Spa? Locked down. Kitchens? Locked. Bar? Nope, totally shut down and the server bots are all down at the park. VR Gaming? Too bad, the computers are all shut down. Even roaming the halls and trying to stay out of the way won't help much...be prepared to be dragged down to the park to participate in this mandatory festival! Isn't it exciting?

b. familiar ground.

Every year in Anchor near the end of October, there's a very strange interaction between the protective dome over the city and seasonal radiation surges that happen in the wastelands. Some complicated combination of refraction and reflection means that for the last few days of the month, residents will experience some of the more benign effects of the red shift inside the city.

Did we say benign? Because while there may not be any dangerous radiation to melt your skin off, there are some mind-bending dangers. Characters experiencing the shift will find the world becomes distorted, warped, impossible to navigate; they are enveloped in auditory and visual hallucinations, and can become so disoriented that they can't even recognize people they've known for years. And characters will find that the citywide shift brings in slivers of other universes, little slices of places characters have never seen before...or places so familiar they make the heart beat hard with joy or fear.

And just like in the wastelands, the things that show up in these shifts are all too real. Characters may find themselves walking through a door into a scene straight from home, or from someone else's home. Whether it's a favorite place to share with a new friend, or the nightmare landscape you almost died in, complete with the monster that almost killed you, be careful. Everything you experience here is real, and if you die in the shift, you die for real.

Of course, the city has its own safety measures in place - residents experiencing the hallucinations and appearances of items and places from other worlds may find themselves locked down in the room they're in, trapped with the otherworldly effects of the shift.

c. the virus.

A few weeks ago, people in Anchor started getting a case of the sniffles. While some of the earliest cases might be clearing up, there are still a few people suffering, or people freshly infected by those who were sick earlier, including some of the new arrivals who may not even be feeling it yet.

Which may make the cause of some unexpected 'glitches' around the city a little unclear. Residents who are feeling the effects of the illness, or who are infected but not showing symptoms yet (or anymore) will find that their access to certain parts of the city are restricted. Suddenly, automatic doors aren't opening for them, as if they were ghosts, particularly when they try to access anything that may facilitate transmission of the virus. Suddenly, only some of the residents of the city will find they can't get into half of the MedBay, or the spa, the kitchens, the VR or games rooms, the bar...anywhere people gather or eat or sit close together.

Residents may put together that it's related to the illness some of them have been experiencing over the past few weeks, but it might take a while, since these safety and security measures are affecting people who are showing no symptoms yet. Be prepared for a few days of paranoia while seemingly perfectly healthy people are locked out of common areas. What does the computer know that residents don't? Are these people security risks? Is it a system glitch? What could be going on?

c. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to warn a friend not to leave their apartment unless they want to be forcibly press-ganged into the Goop Festival? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.

Mod Note: The "familiar ground" prompt will be active between October 29th and October 31st; "the virus" prompt will be active until the next introductory mingle, which will be kicking off the second part of the illness plot.

Navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ben has no idea what's going on, but he's never seen Cole this scared. Not even with the nanites. He'd been distraught, then, and frightened to some degree, but he hadn't been panicking like this. Ben can actually feel him trembling, when Cole presses his hand against Ben's mouth, silencing him. He trusts Cole implicitly by this point, and goes silent and still, listening hard.

He hears the footsteps, too. When Cole starts to move, Ben is ready.

Even though he isn't dressed for stealth, Ben can move quietly. They'd had enough training and practice on sneaking up on your enemy when he was a kid that it comes back to him automatically. He moves where Cole pulls him, through a door, watching as Cole pulls it shut after them. His eyes are becoming accustomed to the darkness, but there is nothing familiar about this place. His mind is full of racing questions, but he stays absolutely silent, gripping Cole's hand back.

And there are other ways to communicate. If Cole is not too scared and too distracted to hear him, to sense his feelings and thoughts. Ben tries, through his own confusion and fear, to crystallize a feeling of readiness, of support. He isn't going to let anyone hurt Cole. He thinks it over and over, hoping Cole will sense it. Ben is here with him, he's not alone, and he's going to protect him.

Cole's hand feels so cold. Ben lays his other hand on top of it, as if he could warm Cole up, worry muddling his thoughts. If only he knew what this place was, what was happening, how he could help -

Cole pauses in the room, looks around and then moves to a corner, to a crate that he pushes aside to reveal another crack, tight, but doable. "In," he urges, glancing to the door. "In. Safe cell."

Through the crack is a cell with a collapsed doorway, facing the opposite wall from the cell they just came from. Aside from the crack, there's no way in or out.

And this is where Cole settles them down. It appears to be an old dungeon room, rusted out shackles on the walls, engraved with a metal that hasn't tarnished, that softly glows in carved runes.

"This is the Pit, underneath White Spire, in Val Royeaux." He still whispers, but he's willing to take the moment to explain. "It's probably Templars, searching for rebels."

Cole knows this place. Ben is sure of it, the moment he sees his friend going to the crate with purpose and decision, moving it to reveal a narrow passage out of the room. As much as he trusts Cole, he can't help hesitating a moment, facing that narrow crack in the wall. Could he fit? What if he got stuck, got trapped? And what was on the other side? All he can see is total darkness.

But he screws up his courage, glancing over to see the stark terror on Cole's face. He almost insists on Cole going first, so Ben can keep guard and follow after, but it doesn't seem worth the wasted time to argue it. Besides, there could be just as many dangers on the other side, waiting for them.

Maneuvering himself through is not an easy task, and Ben scrapes his forearm against the rough stone. He makes no noise, despite the pain, except a slightly sharper inhale. Once Cole is through, too, Ben looks around, at this tiny stone box they've hidden themselves in. He sees the manacles, and a cold, slithery fear slips into his guts. It ought to be comical, something out of a fantasy movie, a ludicrous, over-the-top dungeon. But it's so horribly real. He can smell the disuse of this room, damp stone and moss and metal, but underneath it, old but unmistakeable, is the smell of blood. Real blood that had been spilled here.

When Cole tells him where they are, Ben doesn't recognize any of the names he mentions. He breathes out, even quieter than Cole:

"In Thedas?"

His mind is reeling. Had they been transported, somehow? Is he in another world entirely? An idea occurs to him, and with shaking hands, he fumbles the device from his coat pocket, clicks it on. The light of it is blinding in the pitch-black cell, but Ben squints against the sudden brightness, tapping through to his inbox. He selects a text at random and deletes it, waiting for the signal to go through. As soon as the words disappear, he gives a tiny nod, shuts the device off and slides it back into his pocket.

"We're still in the Anchor. The network - the signal reaches here. This place is - inside the base, somehow."

That doesn't mean the danger isn't real. Ben has seen things from Cole's world brought through the shift, before. He had fought that Behemoth. So it doesn't change much, knowing they haven't been moved. Except there is some hope for escape.

He turns to look at Cole, heart racing, but keeping it together as well as he can. It's just mortal peril. Nothing new. Nothing to lose his cool over. Right?

And yet the terror seems to seep out of the walls of this place. The hairs on the back of Ben's neck are standing up and why can't he stop smelling that old blood?

"If they find us, get behind me." He shuffles closer to Cole in the darkness, jaw set, tense and angry at whatever forces have landed them here, are putting them through this. But anger is useful. Anger will help him to keep his friend safe. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you, okay?"

Edited 2019-11-07 02:37 (UTC)

The terror seeping from the walls is real. To Cole, anyway. He had always been able to feel it, even if he didn't understand that that was what he felt at the time.

The light is bright, too bright, and he tries to hide them, to stop it spilling from any cracks. "No light. We're safe with no light."

It occurs to him that Ben might like a little more explanation. "Won't find us, not here, too thick, too enclosed, no way in." He shuffles closer to Ben, curling his hand around Ben's again. "They can't see me. Even with the red lyrium, I'm never seen if I don't want to be. It's you they'd want. Hurt. No Behemoths though. Won't fit in this part of the Pit. Templars, maybe Horrors, probably not even a knight."

Cole pulls out his knife, the ugly, jagged little thing that never leaves him. It's still killed things more heavily armoured than the Templars.

Through a split in a stone, little more than a thin line, a red light appears. It's the same red of the Behemoth, sickly and dark.

Ben nods when Cole tells him not to shine any more light; he believes him, that it's the best way to keep safe. But the darkness of the cell, those close thick walls, are making it a little difficult to breathe. His eyes are drawn to the shackles on the wall again, and he shivers, shutting his eyes tightly.

He holds Cole's hand back, tightly, and it's not just to comfort his friend, anymore. Not when Cole reassures him that he won't be seen if he doesn't want to be. Ben believes that - he's a spirit, after all. So that means, as Cole makes so clear a moment later, the danger is just to him.

And these aren't the bank robbers and art thieves he'd dealt with as a kid, or those slow-shambling zombies he'd fought off at that Whole Foods. They are Templars. Templars have powers - he remembers that much from what Cole's told him of Thedas. Could they stop him using his powers? Catch him off guard, render him helpless? He can't count on being able to defend himself the way he's used to, against people like that.

Ben knows that, with Cole, emotions can become like a feedback loop. What he ought to be doing now is remaining as calm as he can, to soothe some of Cole's anxiety over being in this familiar, fucking horrible place. But it doesn't work like that. Now that the fear is sinking its claws deeper and deeper into his chest, Ben doesn't know how to tear it free. He can hide it externally, the way he'd learned to do so well while he was alive the first time. But that would mean nothing for Cole. He will still know, still feel it.

When that red line of light appears, Ben doesn't breathe, heartbeat racing faster still, adrenaline coursing through him. He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, just grips Cole's hand as tight as he can.

Cole holds onto Ben.

Not just holds his hand. His arm slides around Ben's shoulders, pressing him to the corner and then Cole exhales slowly, eyes closing as he focuses.

Don't see us. Don't see us. We're not here, there's nothing here, don't see us.

His mental litany warps the world, completely undetectable, but when a glowing eye tries to look in and sees nothing, the light withdraws and moves away again.

Cole's eyes aren't open to see. He's almost using himself a physical shield over Ben, like it would make his power extend over him easier. Maybe it does.

He feels wet, slick heat on his upper lip and knows it's blood. It always happens when he fights against something so powerful to hide someone else.

Ben hates this. He can't remember the last time he felt this helpless and trapped. He presses himself into that corner, Cole blocking him in securely, and does his best to just breathe slowly and silently. But that's hard, when he catches a glimpse of something searching through that crack. For a crazy minute he thinks it is an eye, but he isn't really sure because he closes his own, squeezing them tight, afraid the reflection off them or any more movement of them might give them away.

When the light dims, whatever was searching here moving away, Ben lets out a long, slow breath. He can feel himself shaking from head to foot.

Then he opens his eyes and sees blood on Cole's face, and the terror is back, in an entirely new form. He barely holds back a little wordless noise of surprise and worry, reaching up to touch Cole's bloody upper lip. All at once his emotions are a roiling chaos of affection and fear and confusion and guilt.

Barely even whispering, he breathes, "Cole, you're bleeding."

Cole is hurt and he can't be hurt and Ben doesn't know what he should do or how serious it is. Do they wait out whatever phenomenon has brought them here? For how long? What if something came and blocked up that crack and they were trapped in here? How are they going to get out of this?

The footsteps retreat.

In the silence, the heavy weight of the Templars is not subtle, their metalclad feet loud and retreating into quieter and quieter thuds. Once they sound distant, Cole exhales and sinks to sit back on his heels, eyes still closed.

"Yes. I always bleed when I hide others as well." He still whispers, in case. "And if something tried to block us in, I could still teleport to the other side to free us. Or could tear the walls apart." He looks down to Ben's stomach. "You'd protect us both. That's what you do, you protect Ben from the things that make him scared and hurt." He looks up to Ben. "You're safe with me. I won't let anything find you or hurt you. I promise."

Ben realizes, belatedly, what Cole has done. He'd used his powers to render Ben invisible, so he wouldn't be found and hurt, or worse. He lets out a ragged, uneven exhale, understanding just how close of a call it had been. No matter how much he tries to sit still, to calm himself, the trembling in his limbs won't stop. He shifts, hugging his knees to his chest, arms tight around his legs. He keeps his dark eyes on Cole, asks in that same bare whisper:

"Are you in pain?"

There's something alarming about seeing Cole hurt and bleeding. Ben doesn't like it. Not one bit.

At one time, it would have alarmed and maybe even upset Ben, for Cole to be addressing the creatures on the other side of the portal like that. Now, though, it's actually... strangely comforting. How times change. Cole seems confident enough that Ben's powers would work against the Templars, and that restores some of his lost confidence.

So does the steadiness in Cole's haunted, deep-set eyes, when he looks as Ben and promises he won't let anything hurt him. That he is safe. Even in this wretched place, he's safe as long as he's with Cole.

Ben swallows, works hard to slow his breathing, to halt the galloping panic that has swept him along. He nods a few times, an acknowledgment of Cole's promise. He believes him. He trusts his words.

What they need now is a plan. They can't just crouch here forever, hoping for their problems to solve themselves. If they're going to make a break for it, Ben needs to know when, and how, and which way they will head. He needs information, so that he can assess and strategize and feel even the tiniest bit in control.

"What is this place?" Then, because Cole had already answered that question in the abstract, he adds, "To you."

Maybe he shouldn't ask and maybe he would respect those boundaries if it weren't for the fact that they were both just dropped here, and he's here now and it's not just Cole's business any longer, it's Ben's business, and he needs to know.

Cole doesn't know if it would have seen them, but he couldn't take that risk with Ben's safety. He knows They could protect Ben if need be, but Ben doesn't like calling on them, so if Cole can help to avoid a situation where They're necessary...

Is he in pain? He's not sure. There's a sharp stab when he starts bleeding, but there's so much pain and suffering here that everything aches.

"No."

That seems closest to being truthful. Using his powers like that didn't cause pain. The pain was already there.

Cole opens his mouth, then shuts it, because the clarification changes his answer.

"... this is where I was born. As Cole. Up there." He points in what seems to be an arbitrary direction, but he can sense the exact cell where Cole lay dying and called him through for comfort.

Ben wishes he had something softer, but the cuff of his hoodie will just have to do. He pulls it over his thumb and reaches over, carefully wiping away as much of the blood as he can from under Cole's nose. Sometimes it is a good thing, that he wears all black. He can't quite get it all, and there's a bit of a smudge still against Cole's pale skin where the blood had been, but it's at least better.

(He isn't sure, left to his own devices, Cole would have gotten around to cleaning his face any time soon.)

He drops his hand, heart sinking when Cole answers him. It makes sense. The terror he had been able to hear in Cole's voice when he first recognized the place. The way he had said no like that.

"Where you were born. And... where he died."

Ben isn't sure there really is any such thing as a good place to die, but this is about as far from it as he can imagine. And hadn't he told Ben that Cole had died here because he was forgotten? Left alone, to waste away, to starve? A shudder runs through Ben. It's not just a story, either. Not something this Cole had merely witnessed. He had absorbed Cole's memories. Doesn't that mean, in a way, he had died here, too? Or at least, that he carries the dying with him?

Still wary of detection, but compelled by the breaking of his heart, Ben uncurls and is up on his knees, silently moving across the distance between them so he can pull Cole into a rough hug. His throat is choked up and no words will come, apart from a cracked:

"I'm sorry."

Cole wouldn't have cleaned it off, wouldn't have thought to. The last time someone did that to him was Rhys, shortly before they found out what Cole really is, before Rhys looked at him like he had betrayed everything Rhys believed in.

"Yes." Where Cole died and Cole was reborn, and Cole was alone for months, unable to make anyone see him, unable to interact, alone and lonely and lost, in a place where Compassion had no longer existed. And yes, this entity remembers dying, remembers starvation and doesn't eat because he won't risk ever feeling hungry again.

Usually, Cole doesn't really hug, but here, he remembers being Cole too vividly, being human and wanting that contact, craving connection with another living being.

He folds into the hug, clinging tightly to Ben and ducking his head in against the crook of his neck. He hugs Ben liked he hugged Rhys, all need and overwhelming craving to be in a moment with another living being.

Ben doesn't have Cole's powers. He doesn't know precisely what is going through his friend's mind, right now. What distress or grief or fear he might be feeling. He can guess at the general shape of it, based on how tightly Cole clings to him, the way he hides his face like that. The sheer need in that little gesture burns away a good deal of Ben's fear and uncertainty. There's no room for those things, in the glow of the protectiveness he feels.

Maybe Cole doesn't really need rescuing - he can teleport, he can be invisible, he can defend himself with that knife of his. But it's not physical threats that Ben wants to save him from. It's this. It's the mindfuckery of the two of them wandering from the happiest morning either of them can remember in such a long time, into a place where Cole had gone through so much pain and hardship. Ben is going to get him free from this place, so that he never has to see its walls again, never smell it again, never be reminded.

"C'mon. Let's go, Cole. Let's get out of here. You lead the way, and if any Templars show up, I'll take care of them."

Ben gently disentangles himself from Cole and makes a move towards that crack in the wall. Adrenaline is still coursing through him, but taking action feels so much better than hiding, cowering, waiting for something to happen.

Cole is reluctant to let go, but when Ben says they're leaving, Cole believes him, he can feel the certainty of that idea, that they are leaving and nothing is going to stop them. So he stands and goes to the crack, sliding himself through easily (why doesn't he just teleport? Because he never teleported down here before, and he's slipping back to that boy more than he knows) and walking to the door to unlock it while Ben gets through.

When it is and Ben has joined him, he reaches his hand out to him again. "They feel what you feel. They'll protect me. Us. Me." The confused pronouns could be a lot of things. "There's a way down through the old prison, then into the tunnels. But Behemoths could fit in the tunnels. Okay?"

He doesn't hesitate to go back through that narrow gap in the wall, this time. He knows what's on the other side, and there's a kind of momentum within him, a strength that comes from understanding what this place must mean to Cole and wanting to get him out of it. He crosses the room quickly and takes Cole's hand in his, holding fast.

"That's good. Tunnels it is. I took down a Behemoth before, I can do it again."

Of course, it doesn't exactly work like that, but rather than be intimidated by the idea they might be attacked by something so huge, it's kind of a relief to have a sense of what's the worst that could happen. In many ways, the unknown looms a lot larger and more horribly, than a threat Ben understands.

They make their way downwards, through dark tunnels, walking close together, never letting go of each other's hands. Cole is leading the way, which means Ben can't really walk in front of him and shield him, but there's no way he would have a clue where he was going down here. So he just keeps his ears open for threats and hopes, hopes, hopes that they don't run into anyone...

The Pit is a labyrinth of the worst kind, with no design or intent behind it. It's centuries upon centuries of building, collapsing, conquering and forgetting piled on top of one another. The way down is rubble piled up where a floor collapsed into the level below, cracks and splits from forgotten battles or revolts and the occasional staircase which actually holds up as they creep along.

Cole clearly knows where he's going. He's very sure with his directions, even if he's hesitant as he moves, listening, sensing, occasionally making them pause while he waits for something only he can sense to move on below them.

When they get into the tunnels, it's clear that 'tunnels' is a kind term for centuries old sewerage, which even now is damp and slick and slimy. There's lit torches, however, further along, and there's the dull red glow of red lyrium further ahead.

Cole lifts a hand, calling a halt to Ben and then tucking him into a sconce, out of sight of the Templar. He lets go of Ben's hand with a last squeeze and then draws his small knife, moving out into the passage.

He moves like smoke and shadow, walking towards the glowing figure with no hesitation, a total confidence of purpose. Each steps carries him three closer as he flickers in and out of reality.

A regular human would be dead before they even realised Cole was there, the blade would cross their throat and he would guide the body to the dank ground. This is not a human, not anymore, this is a shell of magic and Blight and so Cole's first strike into the side of the throat silences the creature but doesn't stop it.

It spins around, thick, glowing ichor spurting from the wound and Cole is already gone, a twist of shadow that ducks under the sword that's swung around and driving the dagger up in two quick strikes to the kidneys. It turns again, trying to catch the silent assassin and for a moment it clearly thinks it hit, because there's a moment of resistance...

And a long blade comes out the chest, through the centre of the glowing mass. It jerks and then crumples, Cole appearing to help guide the descent to the floor.

"Find peace, Serah Emilia," Cole whispers to it. "It's over now." And he stands up, holding his own knife and the one lifted from the Templar, a long dagger that fits too well in his grip. "It's safe."

Ben knows the Templar is close enough that any sound would give them away, but there's a protest on his face and in his mind when Cole gently maneuvers him out of the way, squeezes his hand, and then goes to face the danger on his own. Ben sees the red light reflect off the surface of the dagger, but to him, it looks so small. Cole is a spirit, sure, but Ben knows he can get hurt. Knows it because the first time they'd met Cole had asked him to come out onto the surface with him as backup and protection.

He watches with his heart in his throat as Cole closes the distance between him and that Templar. Ben feels like his eyes are deceiving him - Cole doesn't seem to be moving normally, like he's half there and half gone. It's eerie, as is the silence and swiftness with which Cole plunges that dagger into the neck of the Templar. Ben covers his mouth with his hand, stifling a gasp.

Watching the fight, he is terrified. Every second he is afraid that sword is going to arc down and strike Cole, hurt him, and even if Ben bursts out and jumps into the fight that he would be too late. It's all happening so fast and Ben has to squint to follow it. But he sees the look on Cole's face, as he is striking with the dagger, and then again, when Ben realizes with a lurch of surprise that the fight is already over.

As Cole is helping to break the fall of the vanquished Templar, Ben stumbles out, shaky with fear and relief and horror. His thin, ragged breaths echo off the walls of the tunnel, and he makes his way to Cole, not saying anything yet, eyes searching for any other enemies. It's... going to take a few moments, to process what he had seen. From their conversations, Ben had known that Cole could - and did - kill those who needed that particular kind of mercy. But knowing it and seeing it are two entirely different things.

But still, he isn't afraid. Ben's been around killers his whole life. All his siblings were killers. That's just how they'd been raised.

The real shock was seeing Cole so focused, and quick, and purposeful. Ben is not used to really seeing him like that. This, too, is Cole. Along with the boy excitedly tasting ice cream for the first time, and hugging a present to his chest in that little cupboard he calls his own, and talking to the trees. This is him, too.

Edited 2019-11-11 02:07 (UTC)

Cole looks up as Ben comes over, but Ben feels the same as ever, worry, concern, affection... no revulsion or fear of him. He closes the templar's eyes and plucks the scabbard for the knife from her belt, strapping it to his own hip and thigh, cleaning the blade on her sash before sheathing it. "Don't get too near. Red Lyrium is parasitic, infectious."

He reaches out his hand again, but then hesitates. He knows Ben doesn't feel different, but that doesn't mean he wants to hold a hand that was just intimately involved in killing someone, even if there's no blood on it. He knows that Ben hates the gore, the memories of being soaked and stinking.

Ben watches Cole cleaning that knife in a practiced motion, like it's something he's done many times before. But it is not an alarming sight to him; instead, it reminds him suddenly and intensely of his brother, Diego. He always took such good care of his knives. Ben knows exactly the way Diego's hands and wrists would move as he would wipe his knives clean, sometimes mid-mission, if there was an opportunity. If seeing Cole flicker in and out of visibility was something new and profoundly strange, this is like a little piece of home in an unexpected place.

He stops in his tracks, but only once Cole gives that warning about Red Lyrium. So it could affect him even though he isn't a Templar or even from this world? Good to know.

Since he does not share Cole's powers, Ben doesn't know what is the cause of the pause when Cole holds out his hand like that. Rather than avoid touching him, Ben takes his hand at once and, figuring it is safe to speak since Cole had, whispers, "Are you okay?"

He knows that it's Cole's purpose to help people and that the Templar was suffering, but Ben can't help but worry about him, too. Might he be afraid, from the fight? Sad, to have been near someone who had succumbed to that fucked up magic substance? Unhappy, because he'd had to kill? It is so ingrained into Ben's mind, how he had felt when he was asked to kill people. It was disgusting and terrifying and haunting and infuriating and boring and hopeless and awful. Could Cole be feeling any of that, and hiding it?

Cole doesn't know if it could or not, but he isn't going to risk it. And he isn't going to risk it affecting Them either.

He can feel Ben's concerns, flickering thought fast and whisper thin. He doesn't like killing, he's never liked it, it's simply that sometimes, it's the only kindness that's left. "She didn't hit me," he says, but he knows that's not what Ben's asking.

He squeezes Ben's hand and tugs softly. "This way. We're near the tunnel up."

"I was so scared she was going to."

Cole probably already knows that, but it's worth saying. And Ben knows, too, that Cole didn't misunderstand the question. Not when there is such strong emotion behind it. So he respects that gentle evasion. They're still in the frying pan, or possibly the fire by this point. Focus, Number Six. He really doesn't have time to let his mind wander.

So he lets Cole pull him along, encouraged by the thought that they're nearly to a tunnel that will lead them away from this place. Ben's been in some bad places, before, but this one really takes the cake. It would be bad enough all on its own, with the dankness and smell and twisting passages, even if it weren't for the danger and the bad associations it holds for Cole. All that combined, well. Ben wants the fuck out of here, as soon as possible.

Cole squeezes the hand he holds again and leads Ben onward. After a long moment, he hesitantly laces their fingers together, to get a better grip, to feel closer, to just... because he wants to.

There's the first hints of fresh air coming from somewhere up ahead. No daylight yet, but it's a promise of an improvement.

Ben is staying aware of their surroundings, but mostly with his eyes and ears, trying to detect any signs of another threat. There is a little less paralyzing fear of it if it comes along, however. Now that he's seen Cole in action... he is able to believe it a bit more, that he can take care of himself. At least in this context, in this way.

He doesn't hesitate to lace his fingers with Cole's and hold tight. Through all this, one of the predominant thoughts his mind comes back to is how cruel this all is, how Cole didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to die in a place like this. He didn't deserve to be born in a place like this. He didn't deserve to be brought here again when he thought he was free of it.

"Is that...?"

There is some light up ahead, and for a moment Ben's heart skips in fear, thinking it is another Templar. But it isn't the flickering orange-yellow of firelight, isn't that red sickly glow from the lyrium... it is just a pale grey. Like natural light.

It's hard to believe Cole is as dangerous as he thinks he can be... until you see him in action.

"Light," Cole breathes out. Real, natural light. He takes off running, tugging Ben with him, sure footed and fast as he runs towards it. Something in him says that this is the way out. Of the Pit, yes, but out of this as a statement, back to somewhere comparatively safer.

Ben starts running at almost the same instant as Cole, hope stirring in his chest. There is definitely light, now, increasingly rapidly as they run. The sound of their footsteps is so much louder when they are moving this fast, but Ben doesn't look back for potential unwanted company. They are so close-

And then all at once, as instantly as it had appeared, the tunnel is just gone, and the sound of Ben and Cole's footfalls changes. They are in a corridor, in the Anchor. The light is no longer natural light, but it is bright and familiar and they are out.

Ben lets out a ragged sigh of relief, doubling over, free hand braced on his knee, just taking a moment to be grateful they got out. That awful place with all that horror seeping out of the walls and the smell of old blood and all the shadows and filth. He takes a moment to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the onslaught of emotions now that they are safe and free.

(Or at least as safe and free as anyone is in the Anchor).

"We made it."

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