𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒

[saltburntmods]

MISFIRES

a rambunctious duo in salt has stuck their nose where they shouldn't and now you can all reap the rewards! this is a MISFIRES meme. post a header for your character, and receive accidental texts from your local saltburntian guests. nudes, nasties, confessions of a certain persuasion? things you'd otherwise never write or send? they're all on the table. (meme threads aren't game canon, but they're not not game canon either, right)

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[mygoodsir]

Obviously, or I wouldn't be here.

[He sighs and just lays there, basking in the sweaty afterglow.]

I ought to show you pictures of lungs. Scare you into quitting.

[deadnerve]

[Kieran snorts again, enjoying that - and giving the most weak, playful shove with his palm against Harry's chest for good measure.]

You think that'd work? I hate to say it, but I'm real healthy - I know you're gonna laugh, but I just know I'm gonna be fine. Can't say why, just that I know, y'know?

[mygoodsir]

That's called being eighteen, dear boy. When I was your age I was convinced I'd live forever, too.

[deadnerve]

Annnnd you're still alive, so that theory's yet to be disproven.

[He says, knocking ashes off the side of the bed with a flick of his hand, before returning his cigarette to his lips with a laugh.]

[mygoodsir]

[Harry shivers once, violently.]

True. But I think you know what I meant.

[deadnerve]

[He chuckles, taking another drag of his cigarette before blowing a smoke ring up toward the ceiling. He then decides in a fit of adhd to stub out his half-burnt cigarette on the headboard, leaving it there for later, before pivoting back toward Harry.]

Roll over, I'll give you a massage. I know I'm too early to ask for more dicking.

[mygoodsir]

Thank you for your sensitivity to my advanced age.

[Said dryly, but he rolls over and pillows his head on his arms.]

[deadnerve]

Mmmhm, you're welcome old man.

[So fondly said, as he climbs on to Harry to straddle his ass and start massaging his shoulders.]

Tell me another story. Fantasy or reality, I don't care.

[mygoodsir]

Bitch.

[He exhales, grateful for the touch.]

Another story? Very well. In the year of 1518, in what is now France, a woman started to dance. You might think this was not unusual, but what was was this: she couldn't stop.

[deadnerve]

She couldn't stop 'til she got enough?

[He jokes, working on what feels like a minefield of tight knotted muscle, pressing the heel of his palm in sharply to rake them out. All the while he is engaged in listening, looking up at any lulls in the story.]

[mygoodsir]

Indeed.

[Oh. That feels good. Harry is tense literally all the time.]

Now, people saw her dancing, and they began to dance as well. Like her, they didn't stop but continued on for hours and hours without food or rest. In a matter of days, dozens of people were so afflicted.

[deadnerve]

[Left shoulders done, he moves over to the right - pausing only for a moment:]

... Yeah, then what?

[mygoodsir]

Well, within a month's time the affliction spread to hundreds of people. They would dance until they collapsed; some died from exhaustion or heart failure.

It being 1518, naturally some people thought the cause to be possession, or divine punishment. Physicians suspected overheated blood. Nowadays we think it was mass psychogenic illness, or perhaps ergot poisoning.

[deadnerve]

[Kieran is so predictably engaged by simple storytelling. He puts his weight into Harry's shoulderblades.]

What's ergot? And what's psychogenic mean?

[mygoodsir]

Ergot is a fungus. It grows on grains, so some theorise that it made its way into bread.

Psychogenic means that the mind is the cause. So stress that manifests in the body as illness - or in this case, unwanted movement.

That never did figure out for sure what was causing it.

[deadnerve]

Lame.

[The fact that it was never solved - Kieran dislikes unanswered questions, especially ones left to time. He likes definitive answers - it keeps his mind from going over the question again and again.]

Y'think that was a good or a shit way to go? For the ones that kicked it mid-rave.

[mygoodsir]

I think quite shit, actually. The muscle spasms would have been incredibly painful. Although I suppose if you had a massive coronary early on it might not be so bad.

[deadnerve]

Mmm, I guess it wouldn't be that bad for me - I wouldn't feel it 'til I keeled over.

[Benefit of lacking the Pain Feels. He leans hard on Harry's other shoulderblade.]

Better than getting the plague or whatever, puking your guts out.

[mygoodsir]

Mm, you mean bubonic? Yes, nasty way to go, that. In some cases you'd see symptoms and be dead before the day was out.

[He pauses, and then for no reason he can discern, adds:]

Scurvy is bad in the opposite way. Very slow.

Wait, what do you mean you wouldn't feel it?

[deadnerve]

What happens with scurvy?

[All he knows is - oranges help? He stops giving Harry a massage, and instead just plays with his hair while still being perched against his back. Kneading like a cat, almost.]

Oh, mmh. I don't feel pain. Congenital insensitivity. I can tell hot from cold and all that, but I can't tell when hot's too hot. It's not really a big deal.

[Except when it is.]

[mygoodsir]

Mm. Malaise, lethargy. Joint pain - by the end it feels like broken glass in every joint. Your teeth fall out. Bruising. Old wounds open up. Edema. Nerve damage. It is very preventable, thankfully. [Still, he feels deeply disturbed.

He looks back over one shoulder, interest piqued.]

You never mentioned. It's quite rare.

[deadnerve]

I've been told.

[He leans a bit to the side Harry's looking up from, to meet gaze. He shrugs.]

I used to have a nanny follow me everywhere when I was a kid. It was annoying.

[mygoodsir]

I'm sure it was. But young children will often suffer oral injuries - they don't feel the pain when they bite themselves. Broken bones are common, too.

[He smiles.]

You're a rather special boy.

[deadnerve]

Oh, yeah. I fell off the monkey bars a lot.

[And sometimes it was quite gory. He slowly slips off Harry, to once again lay next to him.]

My dad thinks I'm trouble. My sister thinks I'm fragile. And my brother thinks I'm an idiot.

[mygoodsir]

Well. That's brothers for you. Especially if they're older.

[He wraps an arm around Kieran.]

You seem a fine lad to me.