"Hey everyone. Um. I don't know if it's just me or if there's a Thing but I think dreams may be coming true in really inconvenient ways. You might wanna try not sleeping, if at all possible, or have someone keep an eye on you if you do or something. And...yeah, I'm gonna need some help here."
Here was a roughly four-foot by four-foot space at the
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Cherri's staring at the tablet intently. Wherever he is is rather dark itself, but the spiky haired killjoy's face is illuminated for a split second as he strikes a match, lighting a corn-cob pipe he had the wonders of taking out of a snowman earlier.
"And Jack Frost is nippin' at your toes~" He's grinning now, sing-song a falsetto, but in a moment he's wiped it away and his face remains a careful neutral.
"You know," his words are casual, flippant. "You're probably going to die if no one helps you right away. S'freezing."
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"Kinda noticed," he remarked, trying for flippant although he suspected he was shivering too hard to pull it off. He began...not pacing since there wasn't room for it, but walking around the little space to try and keep warm. The action was familiar in forgotten ways and he frowned.
"Don't think I'll be dying, though, my friends are on their way and...well, I've survived worse."
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"We've all survived worse." He reaches up, scratching his nose, watching the other shiver and taking a puff of his pipe.
"When you die, can I have your jacket?"
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"My jacket?" How he wished he had the tattered and now scorched and (if one knew were to look) bloodstained thing. It wouldn't have provided much in the way of warmth but but oh, the sentimental comfort. "Sure, soon as I get out of here I-I'll edit my will. What name should I put down?"
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(His own face - illuminated by nothing more than the tablet - was paler than ever, lips slightly purple, and each breath was accompanied by a tiny puff of vapor. He couldn't seem to stop shivering.)
With a tiny gasp Glitch opened his mouth to speak, but immediately found himself at a loss since the first thing that wanted to come out was Woodsman. He shook his head to try and dispell the last of the dream it was a dream it had to have been a dream please let it have just been a dream and tried again.
"Wyatt," he said instead, and that relaxed the knot of anxiety in his gut enough for him to sigh in relief. "Wasn't going to worry, I figured you'd be along with--" Pause. "Gear. L-like a rope cuz I'm in a hole but I hadn't..."
The knot twisted itself up again.
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The hatch dutifully produces everything he needs - climbing gear, a proper if very basic harness, rope, a shovel in case the hedge maze is snowed in (and he doesn't like the idea of that, but maybe DG can use her magic to expedite things). It's a lot of stuff to carry, but it's dealt with as efficiently as he can with his hands trembling. Boots on, and while the superficial damage to his feet have healed up, he still keeps them bandaged to keep his ankles steady. Sprains are a burden, to put it lightly, but he's fine. He's okay. Everything's okay, and the lingering smell of sourdough in the air reminds him of home.
Coat on, and scarf and gloves too, and backpack full of gear safely secured, he heads out. Into the cold.
"Try not to stay still, Glitch. You'll want to move around to keep warm. And keep your fingers under your arms, too, okay? Stick them right in your armpits so they won't freeze."
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"Um. I've...got your hat." It was a little big but that was okay, it covered the zipper and the tips of his ears. Dutifully he stuck his fingers under his arms and started meandering around the tiny space.
"I do know a bit of how hypothermia works, you know," Glitch remarked. "If heat retention and heat production are less than cold challenge - at least I'm dry and out of the wind - that's when you're in trouble." The shivering continued, and though he spoke very deliberately there was a little slurring at the edges. He dragged his feet in the ashes, trying to keep them covered too. "This is...a little familiar. D-do I wanna figure out why?"
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"In a hole," he replied with a little shrug and a breathy laugh. "For...some reason. I had a dream where I fell in a hole, you know."
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"Oh."
Yeah, that's all he's managing for the moment.
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"Hey there, tumbleweed. Good to have you back."
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"How long have I been...not here?" Not going so far as to say it, not yet.
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"Not sure," he finally admits, scratching his head. "Probably a little over a week or so, I'd say?" he shrugs again. "doesn't matter now, does it? You're back, 's milkshake."
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"Sure, milkshake, right." They were on their way, he'd know for sure any moment, but- "How has...is everyone else okay?"
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"Glitch!" Long's voice says, and for once it's laden with heartfelt emotion as well as the British accent. Relief, it sounds like.
"...that is to say, Glitch, a pleasure to have you with us once more. Is anyone coming for you yet, or may I be of assistance?"
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"Thanks, Mayland," he replies, nodding. "I guess if you really wanna come out in the cold you could, but DG and...and Cain and on their way. Seems we're always rescuing each other."
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Glitch looks freezing, really, but semantics.
"I will be along shortly." Bundled up like heck, of course.
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"Thanks, that's...that's lovely of you. Um. Some really calming tea, maybe?" His fussing around isn't just to stave off hypothermia, there's an element of intense anxiety at play. "...did I ever mention my cleithrophobia?"
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