AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: DYSTOPIAN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Physical violence, monster violence, creepy ogre-like monster in link, being hunted by a monster.
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

With supplies low and food getting even more scarce, things in Deerington, Maine seem to be getting that much more tense. For those who pay attention to the habits of the townspeople, there’s something that might add to that feeling of stress; all of them seem to be involved in some kind of physical training, whether it’s archery, hand-to-hand combat, or fighting with firearms, they all seem like they’re getting ready for something and it definitely feels like it might be something big.

But no one wants to train against a townsperson - it’s highly likely they’re not going to fight fair with the way they’re all glaring at the Sleepers, as though they’re to blame for everything that’s been going on. Unless you’re sparring with people in your own backyard though, it seems like there isn’t any space to get your own training in.

The Betties are starting to pop up around town pretty regularly, waiting until they find Sleepers on their own, and quietly waving for them to come closer. “You need to prepare,” they’ll whisper to you in hushed urgency, before grabbing your hand to try and get you to follow them. If you fight, they’ll insist only once more, before leaving you alone. But there’s something inside of you urging you to comply and follow.

They’ll lead you down an alley, pushing aside a large dumpster, and revealing a trap door in the middle of the concrete. You’ve never noticed it before, even if you’ve been down this alley a hundred times. The Betty leading you leans down, pulling it open, and the ladder that goes into the tunnel is long and dimly lit. You could leave now, but the Betty will insist this is for the best.

“Knock twice. No more or less. Show them what you’re made of.”

Once you get to the bottom of the ladder, there’s an equally long hallway that leads towards a closed metal door. You knock twice and the door shakes before sliding open. The light that comes through is almost blinding with how bright it is compared to the dim tunnel, but as your eyes adjust, you can finally step in to a fully stocked training room.

There are instructors in basics for beginners, areas for intermediate, and most abundantly there are one-on-one sparring areas. The moment you come close enough, you’ll be immediately paired with another Sleeper, and the two of you will be locked in the room together to be observed. You could choose to not fight, of course, but you’ll be stuck there for a good long while if you do. It might be best to just get it over and done with.

So feel free to help others who seem to be struggling or show off your strength for everyone to see. It looks like everyone is going to need to be ready for some kind of fight.

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Maybe you got knocked out during a fight or maybe you fell asleep in your own bed - or maybe you don’t even remember closing your eyes at all, especially if you don’t usually have the ability to go unconscious for one reason or another. No matter the cause, everyone will wake up in the same place, surrounded by tall, thick hedges in the middle of a... maze?

It doesn’t take you long to realize you aren’t the only one waking up, too. Someone is next to you and it seems like you’re stuck finding your way out of here together. Literally. On each of your wrists is a metal cuff with a long chain connecting them. It can’t be broken, no matter how strong a person is or how powerful a weapon or spell they try to use against it. You’re in this together whether you want to be or not.

Once you can pick a direction to head in, it seems like this might almost be boring - that is until you start to hear the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs. At first it seems like it might just be a trick to spook you, but the more you ignore it, the louder it gets, until finally you see it, charging down the row at you, scythe raised and ready to strike.

You can try to fight, of course, but it’s hard when you’re chained to one another. Learn to work together quickly and maybe you can make it work. It seems to go down with normal attacks, though it takes a long time to get the creature to fall unless you cut off the head. Ultimately your best interest might be set in running as fast as you can to get away. You can lose it in the maze if you’re quick about it. But then you might also be lost yourself.

If you do manage to lose the monster rather than killing it, stay quiet and you might not attract its attention again. It may take a while to find the end of the maze. The hedges feel like they stretch on forever and the sun is blaring down. You’d think there would be shade with all the height of the bushes, but there’s no relief from the heat. Hopefully you don’t burn easy.

When you get to the end of the maze, the two of you will come up on three doors. One door will lead out of the maze and back into the center of Deerington, cuff free. Another door will lead you right back to the beginning, forcing you to start again. And what’s behind door number three...?

The monster, of course.

Choose wisely.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt is somewhat used to Logan's austere tastes, but this is minimal even for him. He feels a little sadness to imagine what sort of life his friend has been scraping out here, retreated on the edge of a strange town. His gaze catches on the sword and the print as he lowers himself onto the bed.

He reaches out to gently touch the hilt of the sword with a fingertip, tired but unable to let go of wanting to find out as much as possible about this place. And unsure if he wants to sleep, in case this really is just another dream. ]

It looks like you already have, mein Freund.

[howlett]

As much as ever, I guess. [His smile is self deprecating, but thankfully Kurt’s interest in the familiar sword pulls his thoughts away to more useful places. He’d never call himself a leader, but even Logan wouldn’t deny his value as a survivalist.]

That’s always there. If you need it. [He says it like he expects to see it put to good use too. Sweeping a few half burnt cigar stumps off the night stand, he’s puttering around like he’s tidying up for Kurt’s benefit as the tactician in him takes over. Doling out his knowledge from the front lines to his newest ally here.]

And stay away from the sisters. If you get out around town, there’s no convent nearby, but lately… This place is crawlin’ with somethin’ dressed like nuns. Faceless things. Suckin’ up supplies all over town. Food. Ammo. Tools. You name it. Like they’re lookin’ to starve people out. Don’t let’em get too close. And don’t get between what they’re stealin’.

They’ll go down with a good shot to the head but. Only if your weapon’s been bloodied.
[There’s a pregnant pause as he considers one last survival tip.]
There’s some jars in the kitchen for that.

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt blinks at Logan from the bed, pleased to have the information but a little unnerved by the details. His tail flicks restlessly through the blankets as he rubs his forehead with his fingertips. ]

Gott im Himmel. So, there are evil nuns without faces, which you fight using jars of your own blood that you keep in the kitchen? [ He gives Logan a brief, slightly sickened smile. ] I'm starting to think I would prefer if this was one of Arcade's worlds.

[howlett]

Better my blood than yours, bub. Or Jean-Paul’s. Or damn near anyone’s. [[He won't mention how long it took to figure out it was the blood, not the weapons themselves that does them in. But once it all came together he decided to stock up.]

Well. Deerington’s got a nicer ring to it then Murderworld. But yeah. It amounts to the same sort of shit.

[[Theres more to this place than what little he can prepare Kurt for though. And by the sounds of things whatever you know about Deerington is apt to change at the whim of… whatever Sodder is.]

There’s something communicating with the sleepers… us. The transplants in this place. Something called Sodder. But’s that’s all I know of it. Some folks think it’s tryin’ to break us out of here. Some folks seem to think it’s the one brought us here in the first place. I don’t know.

Inter-dimensional dream monsters? Biblical boogeymen? That’s your area of expertise, bub. [That thought raises a genuine smile from him. Kurt’s probably way more qualified to handle this than him. With his room informally straightened his last act of making it comfortable to present company is a gentle straightening of the only three books on a small shelf by the window.]

Something to read, If it helps you sleep. [Thoreau, Hugo, and Sun Tzu. All somewhat aged, and visibly weathered, one of these showed up with him. The others he's just drawn to.]

[suchmiracles]

[ The thought of using Logan's blood to attack anything, even if it is an evil nun, makes Kurt wince. But he lets it go, understanding that there are things going on in this place that he has yet to comprehend. If Logan is correct in his assessment -- particularly the dream monsters part -- it seems like the sort of place that requires desperate acts such as these.

He watches Logan move around the room, finicky with his space as he's never been before. Kurt finds himself feeling flattered to see Logan being so attentive. He glances at the books, then shifts carefully on the bed to bring his legs up, leaning back against the headboard. ]

Ah, all I need to sleep soundly is to know you're outside the door, mein Freund. I'm still not convinced I won't wake back up in the Institute, but if I do, it has been good to spend some time with you again. [ He gives a thin, tired smile. ] As strange as it has been.

aw fools. <3

[howlett]

[Kurt’s unflappable optimism makes him smile back, but the thought that all of this could just dissolve around them is somewhat bittersweet. It aches to think this might be the only moment he gets with Kurt for who knows how long. But it hurts just as much to think about keeping him.]

I hope you're right, Elf.
I hope you do.

[The warped old wooden door doesn’t exactly shut right, so he leaves it open just a crack on his way out.]

such goofs!! <3

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt watches Logan go, thinking he should have said something else, not knowing what it should have been. He keeps his gaze on the door for a moment after he leaves, his tail tip stirring the blankets.

After a little while, the pain and the exhaustion and the strength of Logan's bourbon rise up in him again. He slides down in the bed, tugging one of the thin camping blankets up over himself. It smells like Logan, that musky mixture of sweat and cigar smoke, familiar and comforting.

Kurt yawns, cushions his head in his arms, closes his eyes with a sigh --

and opens them somewhere else. ]

I Am The Great Unknown // cw: for gore probably.

[howlett]

(TMD Rnd 2)

---

[The feeling of grass prickling at the back of his neck is an unexpected sensation for a man who's fairly certain he closed his eyes on the wood-frame sofa in his cabin. The air feel damp and foggy when Logan’s eyes snap open and he’s definitely not where he left himself. But for better or worse, it looks like his friend is still here with him.]

Kurt? [The chain on his wrist has him lashed to his friend.] Wake up, bub. I got some bad news and some good news…

[His voice stays low and quiet as he shakes Kurt gently at the shoulder. Between the well manicured hedges stretching up around them and the low fog, hanging in the corridors of this garden path the visibility is so low that if Logan had hackles they'd already be rising. ]

[suchmiracles]

[ To Kurt it feels as if barely a moment has passed since he closed his eyes, drifting into a dark dreamless place, when he feels the a sensation of being jostled and Logan's voice, soft and concerned --

It's cold, and there's grass under his palms as he blinks his eyes open. He sees tall hedges and drifting fog. For a moment, he barely takes it in, so unexpected is the view. Then he turns his head, and sits up a little on one elbow. ]

Was.. where are we? [ His look takes in Logan's face, the chain. ] What happened?

[howlett]

[It’s such a short length of chain Logan has between his hands that you can almost see the concern he hasn’t voiced. It’s dangerous to be this close to him on the best of occasions. He can’t imagine whatever’s forced them into this predicament has good intentions. ]

Beats me, Elf. Is this is even in Deerington, I’ve never seen it.

[When he goes still, he clutched those links in his hands to keep them silenced. Trying to make sense of that distance scraping sound. Something dragging maybe? He puts a finger to his lips.]

Shh. We’re not alone.

[suchmiracles]

[ There are few things more alarming than the Wolverine going still. Kurt has become somewhat used to it over the years, but he can't suppress the fear that Logan's expression sparks in him.

He pulls himself up a little, shifting carefully into his habitual crouching position, trying his best to stop the chain from rattling. Glancing from Logan to the hedges, he blinks wide eyes. ]

Was ist das? Other people?

[howlett]

[That grinding sound gets nearer and nearer until the clarity of it makes him picture something like someone dragging a shovel. It seems to pass just on the other side of the wall around them, getting further again for a moment. It's circling, without a doubt. But there's no way to know if it's on the right path or finding it's way in this place by trial and error.

It's tempting to think it's another sleeper. Someone just like them, just as lost as they are. And then he gets the scent of it. A sharp, acrid smell that stings his nose like sick.

If they run, they could run right into it around the next corner. If his claws come out, Kurt gets cut.

The dragging noise halts and he closes his palm over Kurt's mouth, dragging them both into the cover of the hedges around them.]

[suchmiracles]

[ The sound grows until it's loud enough for Kurt to hear it as well. He doesn't need to read the concern in Logan's face to understand that this thing is big and not something he particularly wants to meet.

He crouches beside Logan as it passes them, wide-eyed, the fur on the back of his neck prickling, his tail whisking the air.

Then, worse still than the noise of its passage -- it stops. Kurt is about to suggest they make an escape when Logan's hand closes over his mouth and he pulls them both back into the hedge. After a split second of confusion, Kurt lets him do it, relying on years of trusting the man's instincts.

The hedge is dense and uncomfortable, branches scratching as they pull back inside it. Kurt flattens himself back against Logan, heart pounding and breathing a little hard around his hand as they hide like rabbits waiting for a wolf to pass them by. ]

[howlett]

[Hiding is not exactly Logan’s modus operandi, but for the time being he hasn’t got a better plan if he cannot risk making himself the resident meat shield.

With Kurt’s back against his chest, he can only hope they’re quiet enough or that the thing rounding the corner out of the fog isn’t as good a hunter as he is. It smells like something decomposing and the scraping sound quickly becomes clear— the long scythe it carries is dragged by its gnarled handle. The battered blade of which scrapes and skips along the ground at its side.

It’s a long uncomfortable wait, tangled in each other and the brambles until it’s out of reach of them by both scent and sound.]

C’mon. Let’s put some distance between us while we figure out how the fuck to get out these cuffs.

[He whispers the words nearly flush against Kurt’s ear because it’s a hopeful idea at best when neither of them have any real understanding of just how recursive these paths are.]

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt sees a little of the monster through the leaves and branches of the hedge as it passes them by, a glimpse of gnarled skin and jagged claws. Even he can smell it as it gets closer, making him grateful for Logan's solid weight pressed against his back him and the heavy warmth of his arms. His tail twines around Logan's leg, instinctively seeking comfort in the other man's presence.

Finally, as the creature disappears into the fog, Logan seems to relax a little. Kurt nods slightly at his words, though he finds himself reluctant to want to leave the safety of the hedge -- and, he has to admit to himself, Logan's embrace. It takes a moment before he's able to pull himself away from him and step carefully out into the foggy corridor once more.

Some brave hero, he thinks to himself.

He glances back at his friend, eyes bright in the gloom. When he speaks his voice is a low whisper. ]

Logan, if we need to fight that thing, you must not stop just because I.. I might.. [ He can't bring himself to say it, but he saw Logan measuring the length of the chain; remembers the room and the cuts on his hands. ] I am willing to do whatever is needed.

[howlett]

They tread lightly as they can clamouring out of the living architecture that’s confines them here, but it’s staying perfect silent with a chain between them is no small feat. Comfortably on their feet, he lets Kurt ease out of his grasp as Logan’s attention turns to the still, damp air. It’s good for tracking if nothing else.

When Kurt speaks, Logan’s brow furrows. They both know full well what his best purpose and perhaps best shot at getting them out of this is. But if he can make some better use of himself for once, this seems like a worthwhile opportunity to try. He turns a glare on his friend that makes him look frustrated just to entertain what Kurt’s suggesting.]

I don’t care what you’re willing. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.
Or whatever the fuck that is.

[Tugging lightly on their attached arms, they head off making turns that take them farther from the source of that smell.]

C’mon. Let’s keep moving on scent. Put some distance between us while we look for an exit.

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt swallows his own frustration, knowing that it's useless to push Logan to try to agree with him. The man's pride is almost as hard as his bones.

Instead, Kurt walks beside him, realising after a little while that it's strangely uncomfortable to not be able to 'port ahead or scale the hedge to see what's going on. He's not used to feeling so.. tethered. His tail lashes the air, betraying his discomfort.

After a little while and a few turns through the hedges -- which all seem to look alike -- he glances sideways at Logan and offers a suggestion in a low voice. ]

Perhaps you could try to break the chain with your claws? I wouldn't mind the cuts, and it might be better if I could climb up and see what's going on.

[howlett]

[It’s strange to think they’re both right here, about as close as they could be, and neither one of them can be any real help to one another. This place has a way of wadding up one’s usefulness and making you choke on it.

The fog is still heavy and cool, but at least for a momentary trace of that creature stalking around is no small distance away. It’s something to relax about, but it also serves as an unpleasant reminder that he’s got no idea just how much area this maze stretches. The temptation to pop his claws and just rake a new path though these walls is only as strong as his desire to take it easy on the man joined to his wrist. If he’s been quiet all this time it’s only because he hasn’t stopped trying to think through an answer in the hopes one will present itself around the next corner.]


I could… [He mumbles noncommittally, none too thrilled with the idea that even to be helpful he’s going to cause his friend’s pain. How the hell can it be that it’s gotten somehow more dangerous just to be near him? And who the hell decided that, of all the people he knows, it’s Kurt who deserves to be the collateral damage in his life next?

Coming to a stop he double checks the sounds and the scents in the fog and heaves a heavy-hearted sigh. Patting down his pockets unravels a tattered red handkerchief and starts an easy tear from the frayed edge.]

Gimmie your hands. I don’t know which one’s gonna get cut. If it’s mirrored or exact… [With Kurt’s permission he ties each strip across his knuckles. It’s worthless, he thinks. But it’s all he can do to assuage a wound he’s about to cause.]

[Pulling on the chain until it’s taut between them. His claws come out with a swift snkit. Gentle was his first thought, but rather than prolong the pain he’d rather get this over with. The sound of adamantium on whatever metal that binds them is so coarse and grating that it’s hard to imagine it didn’t break their bonds. But even after two, three strikes there’s little more than scuff marks and Logan looks increasingly frantic. Surely they didn’t do this for no good reason at all.]

No… nonono. No! NO!

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt lets Logan bandage his hands, though he's fairly certain he can handle the cuts -- he's dealt with much worse on the battlefield and kept going. But Logan seems to need it, seems to want the ability to help, to do something besides create pain. Kurt can more than understand that; it's one of the things he loves most about him. So he puts his hands in Logan's gentle grip and watches the fabric bind his knuckles.

The makeshift bandage is tight as he raises his hand a little, pulling the chain so it's taut. Short, so short, compared to the distance Logan had walked in the little basement room. Kurt feels a tiny thrill of fear in his belly as Logan straightens his wrist, and that ever-familiar noise --

It doesn't hurt, at first, but as Logan strikes the chain it starts to build between Kurt's knuckles, burning, as Logan's flesh tries and fails to heal around the claws. He'd never noticed it before, hadn't had reason to, the way Logan's healing factor deals with the triple blades that jut from his hands. But he feels it now, and tries his best not to let it show.

The chain vibrates and jerks as Logan hacks at it. His expression goes from frustrated to outright panicked, a rare enough expression for him that the tiny flame of fear in Kurt's gut dials up a notch. Kurt reacts almost instinctively, reaching out, making the chain slack but unable to stop himself from putting a hand on Logan's shoulder, consoling. ]

Logan! Logan, please! It's not going to work, mein Freund.

[howlett]

[He knows that a man who’s literally been to heaven and back doesn’t need his trifling. Kurt’s endured as much as anyone and only comes out stronger for it. Those makeshift bandages do more more to protect Logan’s guilt than his friend’s hands.

It’s not the impossible strength of the chains that shocks him into some kind of tunnel vision. It’s his stubborn refusal to believe this was for naught, it’s the spilling of Kurt’s blood, it’s the fucking futility of this bearing down on him that suddenly makes him feel like an animal in a trap with no other option than to gnaw off his own limb. Which right now seems like the next worthwhile possibility.

He can’t cut through his own bones any more than the chain of course. But the idea that he could carve off enough of his own flesh that it might at least get his hand through the cuff comes upon him in all the time it takes to bring his fist down again, flaying his thumb with one of his claws just in time to feel Kurt’s hand on his shoulder.

As quickly as he got carried away Kurt’s voice brings him back to the reality he’s inflicting on both of them.]

FUCK! This is BULLSHIT!

[He barks like he’s completely given up on their previous stealthy and slowhanded approach.]

cw: blood/gore

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt knows that look. He's seen it a thousand times, usually right before a giant robot gets gutted from the inside out or a pile of Hand ninja realise the painful way that they've messed with the wrong man. Baleful and full of anger. He knows Logan calls it the Berserker, and that's what it is. The haunted and broken part of Logan's soul finding release in blood.

His claws scythe through the air, catching the light along their gleaming edges as he cuts down -- then flinches away, yelling. ]

Logan -- [ It's all Kurt gets out before Logan's healing factor kicks in and the wound appears along Kurt's thumb, a red line through his blue fur drawn by a ghostly hand, bright and a brief flash of white bone. Kurt yelps, an animal sound, at the pain, clapping his palm over the injury as blood begins to run out between his fingers onto the grass. ]

[howlett]

[Unintentional as it is, Kurt’s recoiling pulls Logan’s own hand out of the path of another strike from his own claws. Instead they lodge into the ground and Logan is jarred out of his fury at the sound of his friend’s pain.]

Oh shit— Kurt!

[First aid is not his strong suit. He can distinctly remember making Hank cringing over some of his makeshift tourniquets and field dressings. Still, the blood seeping through Kurt’s fingers makes him desperate to do something, and worried that any effort to undo the mess he’s made will be just as quickly rebuffed. Why would anyone trust his hands now, after all?]

I’m sorry, I’m sorry… [His babbled apologies bring his voice back down to a whisper as he closes his hands tightly around Kurt’s forearm to quell the flow of blood to his hand.]

Keep pressure. We’ll tie it with something. I shouldn’t have… No, more of that. It’s not worth it. We’ll figure something else out.

[suchmiracles]

[ Kurt's no stranger to pain. In the course of his career he's faced injuries of every sort, not to mention the small matter of surviving his own death (more or less). But he's never really become used to it, at least not in the way that some of his friends have.

He tries, though, for Logan's sake. His palm is hot and slippery with his own blood as he raises it, keeping it pressed hard on the wound, knowing enough of medicine to help staunch the flow of blood. The pain pulses in his hand in time with his heartbeat. He looks at Logan, his lambent eyes steady though his voice is strained. ]

It's OK, Logan. It's.. not your fault. It's this place, what it's done to your powers. [ He pants a little, then grins, hard and desperate. ] It is going to make watching you shave even more of an adventure, I can tell.

[howlett]

Don’t. Don’t do that. [His muttering brushes off Kurt’s reassurances. The fear and loathing people harbour for him isn’t exactly unjustified. Not a day goes by here or anywhere else that he’s not reminded of that. But what might be worse than being told exactly what people think of you, is being placated about it. Just as a struck dog cowers from a firm hand, it’s leery of a gentle one.]

This place is a shitshow, but whatever it’s doin’ to us. We’re still making’ choices…

[Rending a strip of his plaid shirt, the words sound more like a conversation he’s having with himself than anything he suspect Kurt needs to know. He wraps Kurt’s hand tightly. Enough to replace the pressure of their grip. It’s little help for the discomfort but it’s enough to stop the bleeding and give Kurt back the use of his good hand as well. By the time he’s through, Kurt’s unwavering ability to make the worst into a joke makes him smile— however much he’s trying not to. When he lets go Kurt’s hand they’re almost nose to nose and Logan’s eyes narrow suspiciously.]

You sayin’ I suck at shaving or you just like watchin’ me do it?

[With the coppery scent of blood in the air it takes a long moment, longer than he’s happy about, to pick up that low, musty rot of that creature again. Whatever trace of a smile was on his face, it’s gone.]

It’s coming back… [He puts Kurt at his back, penning him into the corner in the hedges where he put himself between Kurt and anything that might step into the corridors stretching out on either side of them.] We can’t just keep running. We don’t even know how big his place is. We gotta kill it, Elf. We can kill it.

[suchmiracles]

[ Watching Logan bristle and retreat from any kind of comfort is as painful as the throbbing in Kurt's hand.

He frowns, his eyes fixed on his friend's face as Logan tears off a strip of his shirt and wraps his thumb, barely noticing the jostling of his ministrations. What had this place done to Logan, to make him so unhappy? Before his death he had been withdrawn and quiet; Kurt and the others had given him his space to deal with his mortality in his own way, as he always had. But this was different, a kind of surrender that makes Kurt's chest ache with concern.

Even his smile is strained, and although Kurt is happy to meet it, he can't quite find the strength of heart to quip back at him.

Then Logan's head comes up again, and he's pushing Kurt back behind him. Kurt bares his teeth a little at that, not liking to feel protected when he can still fend for himself, but he cradles his injured hand and doesn't put up a fight. Logan has a point. ]

I can 'port us in. [ He offers it in a low voice, understanding that Logan won't like it but not giving him an opportunity to argue. Years of battlefield experience training for situations very much like this one rise to the fore of his mind. They are X-Men still; they won't go down quietly. ] Above it and behind, we go in quick, surprise it. It may look like a verdammt demon, but few things can survive without a head, and I'll wager this thing isn't among them.

[ He reaches out with his uninjured hand to touch Logan's shoulder with his fingertips. ] Let me do this, mein Freund. I don't want to die on my knees.