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 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."

Cole feels the change. He stumbles to his knees on the ground, hands pressing against the floor and wall, the rush of the Shift steeped into the very fabric of this place, the curiosity and confusion of years upon years of residents, the flicker of the current residents moving back and forth...

Someone gives a sob of relief and Cole looks up to try and feel where that is, who it is, and realises it just might be him.

As relieved as Ben is, he can't imagine how this must feel for Cole right now. That place was terrifying enough to Ben and he'd never been there before, but it held so many horrific memories for Cole. The noise he makes as soon as they're safe and out of that place is enough to break Ben's heart all over again. He sets his hand against Cole's bowed back, rubbing gently, hoping to help him catch his breath, adjust after all of that. Ben is all concern and relief and wanting to help, to comfort.

"You're okay, it's okay, that place is gone, I'm here, you're okay."

He stays close to Cole's side, still on high alert, glancing around them for any sign of dangers that might have followed, but there is nothing. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. That place had just vanished, left no trace behind except in their memories.

"Just breathe, Cole. Take a deep breath."

Will that calm him down the same way it would a human? Ben isn't sure. But it worked on Klaus. It is what he told himself, when he was feeling overwhelmed. It can't hurt.

Edited 2019-11-13 02:29 (UTC)

Cole bows over his knees, his hat sliding off and rolling away, unnoticed and unneeded for the moment. He hugs his own legs, because that is the only comfort Cole really knew in the end and he sobs his relief into his legs.

Ben's hand is warm and reassuring and Cole blindly reaches out backward, trying to beckon Ben closer. The reassurance and calming isn't the words themselves. It's the voice and the presence and the warm intent of wanting to help.

It's so hard, seeing Cole like this, knowing he was probably holding all this back until the moment he knew the both of them were safe. It all plays again in Ben's mind - Cole hiding him and swearing to protect him, the both of them walking through those awful tunnels, the Templar, the knives, their final dash to freedom. He feels Cole reaching for him and moves closer at once, pressed up against his side even as he hugs his own legs, still rubbing his back and making soothing wordless sounds interspersed with little reassurances.

"It's going to be alright... you're alright... just let it out"

He keeps up a stream of them, sticking close and listening to Cole sob his heart out. Ben hates the world a little, for doing this to Cole. For causing him this pain. He wants to undo it, wishes all that injustice and hurt were a physical thing he could rip into tiny shreds. But it's spread out over years and memories and it's complicated and intangible and there's nothing he can do but sit here now and try to be as gentle as he can with Cole.

"The worst is over... you're safe now, Cole...."

The thing about Cole is he always knows somehow the right things to say to make Ben a little less miserable. But the same isn't true in reverse. He's so bad with words, and the truth is Cole has so many reasons to cry. Trying to stop him, would that be like saying those things hadn't mattered? Ben doesn't want to do that. He just wants to help his friend not feel so wretched.

Cole hasn't cried since the day he left Rhys. Spirits don't need tears, because they're not meant to have their own emotions and Cole gets by by not letting himself feel, only letting himself feel what others feel.

He can dimly feel the pressures of Ben's concern, slivers of pain and it makes him sit up a bit, blinking at Ben with bleary, red rimmed eyes. It's not pretty, nothing about Cole is pretty, but it's incredibly human.

"You, you do help. I'm sorry if you think you don't, but you do. I couldn't have gotten out without you."

If Ben hadn't been with him, Cole would have frozen. Perhaps lapsed, fallen back to the Ghost of the Spire and forgotten that this was real and not just his imaginings. Without Ben, he shouldn't have had the wherewithal to fight back and get them out.

He promptly falls forward into Ben's lap, hugging him around the waist and mooshing his cheek against his stomach, like he might be able to hide there.

Ben's heart breaks all over again when he sees Cole's upturned face, red-eyed and tear-streaked. It's a combination of an instinctual reaction to someone who is so vulnerable, and a reaction to the fact that this is Cole, someone Ben has come to care for a great deal.

Cole's words of gratitude, the certainty with which he says that he wouldn't have made it out without Ben, send a spike of fear through Ben, cold and paralyzing. What if Cole is right? He's strong, Ben knows that. Invulnerable in many ways that Ben himself is not. But he is fragile, too. What if Ben had left the goop festival (god that feels like it was a year ago now, how can it only have been earlier today?) and Cole had stayed, stepped through the door to the Pit on his own a little later? What if it had swallowed him up and Ben had never seen him again? If he'd just disappeared with no trace?

What if Ben had lost him?

It's an old wound, that that fear touches. So many years of being terrified for Klaus, of being convinced each morning that this was going to be the day that he lost him. There is little that scares Ben so deeply, so immediately and beyond words, as the thought of losing the people who matter to him. Cole is one of those people now.

His voice comes out choked and halting as he says:

"Then I'm- really really really glad - I was with you- when it- happened."

Ben is a little startled at Cole burying his face against his stomach, clinging to him like a frightened child trying to hide. But he is so awash in the belated terror that comes from the thought that he might have never seen Cole again that he is more than glad to be hugged tightly like that. He clutches Cole against him, one hand on the top of his pale-haired head, the other gripping his upper arm, just holding onto him. Reinforcing for himself that Cole is solid and real and alright, and he is solid and real and alright, and they made it out okay.

"I'm sorry- you had to see that horrible place again. I'm sorry... any of it happened. It shouldn't have happened. You- deserve never to be in a place like that again."

"Thank you for being willing to protect us, too." Cole whispers the words against Ben's stomach and they're not for Ben, even if he hears them. His gratitude extends to Them, who would've defended them if it had come down to it.

Cole works on curling himself tighter, around Ben's body as it happens, moving so his knees push up near Ben's hip, his body curled around him, tucked in and hiding and also protecting Ben's back with his own body to some degree. His fingers clutch with that surprising strength, but still so careful not to bruise.

"I'm sorry you had to see it. I'm not sorry you were with me."

He is used to it, by now; the little cues that tell him Cole is talking to 'Them', as he calls them, rather than him. It doesn't surprise him any longer.

Ben remains still, allowing Cole to move and reposition himself. He keeps one hand on Cole's head, resting there, pushing the pale strands back from his forehead for a moment before resettling. Bit by bit, his heart-rate is slowing down. The hugeness of what had just happened, of what they just went through, is settling in. Ben takes deep long breaths, in for a few seconds, then slowly out. He's had to learn over the years how to calm his body down. If he can do that, maybe he will help Cole to be able to do the same.

"Thank you for keeping me safe."

Deep breath in, deep breath out. They survived and they're together and everything is going to be alright. Ben tries to make himself really feel it. But panic that deep doesn't dispel quickly. So he just holds Cole while Cole curls around him and he breathes through the trembling and the echoing awful sick feeling of fear.

"Cole..."

Ben isn't sure how he can articulate what he wants to say. But he has to find some way to say it, now that he'd had that awful realization that losing Cole is a thing that could happen in the world. He takes another few long breaths. Tries:

"If anything bad happened to you..."

No, he isn't getting any further than that, apparently. He just hopes that despite his distress, Cole will be able to fill in the rest. Ben's concern for him, his certainty that if anything bad happened to Cole, it would hurt him quite intensely. All of that not-wanting-to-lose-someone wrapped up in a messy knot of emotions he doesn't have words for.

Cole's body isn't a mortal body. He doesn't do things that mortals do, like sleep, or eat, or sweat. He doesn't need to breathe to be, though he generally does because it's simply a reflexive memory.

But despite that, he is starting to relax again. And then Ben speaks and all his fears and hurts flood Cole's awareness, pulling him out of his own head.

He shuffles himself up to press his head to Ben's chest and then tuck himself under his chin. His hair isn't soft because he's permanently grimy with dust and whatever else is around the place, but he smells like here, like Anchor. "You would survive. It would hurt, a lot, and you'd grieve and They'd grieve with you, but you'd survive and one day, you'd think back on the good things like ice cream and reading to me and be able to smile without it hurting."

Ben knows that Cole is right. He's always right about things like this. He knows people, the way they hurt and heal and survive, and sometimes don't. There's no denial he can make that would be anything other than petulant and short-sighted.

(Ben had watched his family do all of that. Silent and unseen, he had been there to see the shock and horror turn to grief, turn to various forms of amending their memory of him, tailoring it to suit whatever narrative they needed. He'd seen it hurt less and less for them to talk about him. He'd seen them move on without him.)

Cole's rightness that Ben would make it through doesn't make the thought of losing Cole hurt any less.

"......yeah. But I would really rather not have to. So... if you can. Be careful with yourself, for my sake."

He pats Cole's hair, unbothered by the grime, just grateful his friend is here and safe and that things had not been any worse than they were. He doesn't want to let Cole go, to move from this spot, afraid the next doorway would lead to some fresh horror, that if he lets Cole out of his sight he'll be taken back to the Pit and left there, trapped, alone.

redshift: tdm #5

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