[The blizzard all around you is unrelenting. An endless expanse of white, only broken up by the figures you're traveling with -- five children and an old woman -- and the outline of buildings in the distance. The latter should be a relief, a sign of shelter on the horizon, but when you arrive, it's abandoned. Not a light on anywhere in sight, and it's not like abandoned towns you've seen before. There's no signs of the usual reasons for it, no evidence of bandit raids nor Grimm attacks. This town wasn't destroyed or abandoned in the middle of construction.
The doors of some of the houses are locked, even. It's weird. You kick open one such door, because regardless of what's going on, you need shelter for the night or you will die in this storm. Stay on your guard, you tell the others as you look around for threats indoors, yet the house is silent and still. There are photographs on the wall identifying this place as Brunswick Farms. One of the kids offers to get a fire going; another goes in search of blankets. It's not long before there's a sudden scream from upstairs, and you all rush there, expecting a battle. A Grimm, at the least.
All you find is a pair of corpses, fully clothed, tucked into bed as though they had simply fallen asleep and never woken up. When you investigate the other buildings in town, every single house is the same. Corpses in their beds, peaceful and otherwise untouched. There's something terrifying about it; you've seen so much death all through your life, but nothing like this. No bodies that look as though they simply ceased to live one day, for no reason.
"Then we're not...staying here, are we?" says the girl who'd discovered the first corpse.
"We don't have a choice. Storm outside's only getting worse. We'd freeze to death before we got anywhere."
The old woman suggests they might as well get comfortable. The young blond girl behind her scoffs at the notion, while a third girl, a brunette with a red cloak, suggests splitting the difference -- if the house wasn't abandoned, it might still contain useful supplies they could use. Like a car to escape the storm in, the young man by her side agrees.
You offer to do another sweep of the grounds. "No one else goes anywhere alone," you warn the others.
---
The storm is clearing up, but you can't bring yourself to feel relieved. Something is terribly, terribly wrong here, though you can't place it. Your niece is worried about you, but you brush her off. There's no good in dumping your bullshit on her shoulders. There's enough on them already.
"Tell everyone to get some sleep. I'll wake you guys up before sunrise."
It happens so slowly, so subtly, you barely even notice it. The way your bones feel leaden and you're so t i r e d
every minute that passes starts to feel like a day, a week, a year
and you just
want to sleep.
Haven't you been through enough? Done enough? You've wasted more than twenty years of your life. You've nearly died, over and over
and over
and over
What's the point? Why bother? You're so
so
tired.
---
You overslept. But it's fine, because you're leaving. You'll make up for lost time on the way to Atlas.
(Or maybe not. The stupid trailer has a stupid flat tire.)
But why are you going, anyway? What's the point? It's not like you're going to win the war. It's important though, or something. The lamp fell down the well, too. Ruby's not leaving without it.
Whatever.
- - -
You wake up slumped across a table by the estate's wine cellar, your niece and her friend dragging you back by the arms. It pisses you off at first, until the Grimm catch your eye, set ablaze and yet still shambling toward you.
You were supposed to protect them. You nearly got them killed.]
For Break - Winter Mournings: The Apathy
The doors of some of the houses are locked, even. It's weird. You kick open one such door, because regardless of what's going on, you need shelter for the night or you will die in this storm. Stay on your guard, you tell the others as you look around for threats indoors, yet the house is silent and still. There are photographs on the wall identifying this place as Brunswick Farms. One of the kids offers to get a fire going; another goes in search of blankets. It's not long before there's a sudden scream from upstairs, and you all rush there, expecting a battle. A Grimm, at the least.
All you find is a pair of corpses, fully clothed, tucked into bed as though they had simply fallen asleep and never woken up. When you investigate the other buildings in town, every single house is the same. Corpses in their beds, peaceful and otherwise untouched. There's something terrifying about it; you've seen so much death all through your life, but nothing like this. No bodies that look as though they simply ceased to live one day, for no reason.
"Then we're not...staying here, are we?" says the girl who'd discovered the first corpse.
"We don't have a choice. Storm outside's only getting worse. We'd freeze to death before we got anywhere."
The old woman suggests they might as well get comfortable. The young blond girl behind her scoffs at the notion, while a third girl, a brunette with a red cloak, suggests splitting the difference -- if the house wasn't abandoned, it might still contain useful supplies they could use. Like a car to escape the storm in, the young man by her side agrees.
You offer to do another sweep of the grounds. "No one else goes anywhere alone," you warn the others.
---
The storm is clearing up, but you can't bring yourself to feel relieved. Something is terribly, terribly wrong here, though you can't place it. Your niece is worried about you, but you brush her off. There's no good in dumping your bullshit on her shoulders. There's enough on them already.
"Tell everyone to get some sleep. I'll wake you guys up before sunrise."
It happens so slowly, so subtly, you barely even notice it. The way your bones feel leaden and you're so t i r e d
every minute that passes starts to feel like a day, a week, a year
and you just
want to sleep.
Haven't you been through enough? Done enough? You've wasted more than twenty years of your life. You've nearly died, over and over
and over
and over
What's the point? Why bother? You're so
so
tired.
---
You overslept. But it's fine, because you're leaving. You'll make up for lost time on the way to Atlas.
(Or maybe not. The stupid trailer has a stupid flat tire.)
But why are you going, anyway? What's the point? It's not like you're going to win the war. It's important though, or something. The lamp fell down the well, too. Ruby's not leaving without it.
Whatever.
- - -
You wake up slumped across a table by the estate's wine cellar, your niece and her friend dragging you back by the arms. It pisses you off at first, until the Grimm catch your eye, set ablaze and yet still shambling toward you.
You were supposed to protect them. You nearly got them killed.]