\|/ Turn 17, early light
It's getting worse.
I felt so utterly sick after my meal. I couldn't throw up, but food in general made me feel ill.
After the meal I couldn't sleep anymore. The entire dark I felt so utterly cold that I, on multiple occasions, thought about going into the fire for warmth. My left arm stung so damn much, releasing a constant taste of bile. I was paranoid about dreaming of something horrific again. Since I got on this planet dreams have been constantly haunting me.
So, no sleep.
During the silence I could only think whether I would survive the infection.
It's either some kind of Tau bacteria that wandered in my body, is confused and trying to multiply, thus causing problems that will maybe pass. Or it's a Tau supervirus that will kill me slowly and make me rot from the inside.
…
I tried not to think about the infection anymore.
…
But the coldness is agony.
I knew the tent was warm, that I was huddled under blankets and everything, that that was probably the second time in a couple of turns I was actually properly warm, but I was feeling as if I would freeze over at any moment. Constant shivering and whimpering clawed at my sanity.
Mik was sleeping peacefully at the time, at the other side of the slowly fizzling out fire. We both had our meals and went to sleep.
At least one of us did. Mik was splayed out quite amusingly.
Out of sheer desperation I went over to Mik and lied down next to it.
I didn't care if I was being rude or crossing some weird boundary at the time, I was utterly desperate for warmth.
I lied down less than a length away from it and tried to get some sleep. I failed, of course, but I was just the tiniest bit warmer.
That was until Mik, snoring, turned over and put its right arm above my snout, over my eyes.
You have got to be kidding me. I laughed internally.
I was dying of infection, trying not to think too hard about how doomed I was. So desperate for warmth I went over to the alien.
And then I got used as furniture.
But Mik's arm was so warm.
It baffled me the entire night. I just couldn't fathom how Mik functioned. I tried coming up with a few theories to pass the time:
1. It could be so warm because it is constantly fighting off pathogens – Mik somehow makes its own heat source to fight some microbe off constantly. Maybe its head growth is a lethal fungus if it is too cold? I couldn't differentiate the growth from the rest of its body from air taste.
2. All of Mik's cells (supposing that it is made out of cells like every other being I know of) are constantly "wiggling". Friction gets made into heat, creating its own heat source. I felt a pulse from where Mik's arm was on my head. Its heart (presuming it has one) is either large or overworked, since pulses shouldn't be able to be felt through contact.
3. It has some kind of additional structure solely for heat production, but I can't fathom what that would look like.
All of these would explain the arm still not being healed. That kind of heat production would take up an absurd amount of energy. Though that broken arm is starting to worry me. It should at least be partially healed by now, but Mik groans every time it's barely moved. I pray to the Suns that it's not permanently broken.
…
Early light finally came; I survived another turn.
Mik stirred at its unusually early time, maybe a mark or two after light arrived.
It started stretching.
Then Mik stopped suddenly.
Without looking, it moved its arm, so its hand was over my face, and touched my face a few times, confused.
It then panicked wildly, yelping, then rolling away before getting up at unprecedented speeds.
It saw me. The Thornkin cocoon under a cloak and blanket. I took one arm out and flailed it lightly.
Mik took a few deep breaths, covered its head with its hand, rustled its head growth, mumbled something and came over to me.
Mik, extremely awkwardly, patted me on the forehead a few times before hurrying out of the tent.
I tried to laugh, but all that came out was a pitiful wheeze and pain in my chest.
I know I invaded its space, I know it was selfish.
But seeing Mik embarrassed was hilarious. It's partial revenge for slamming my face into food.
I heard Mik outside, talking to itself, pacing around. It then walked off to drink water (it drinks a lot, especially in the morning, quite water inefficient).
After a few more spans of wheezing, I decided to get up. I was no longer freezing, and I could actually help out now.
But when I went to get up I just couldn't.
I didn't use my left arm, that was still burning in pain, but I simply couldn't sit up at all. I didn't have the strength to do so.
Great, I thought, I'm bedridden.
All of this effort to bring food, to not be a burden, and, despite my moral suicide, I just end up being useless again.
It's getting annoying at this point.
Left with no other choice, I'm here now, writing this.
Writing is getting difficult. I'm using my legs as a background, and my right arm works well enough, but I can't hold down the page with my left hand because of the horrible stinging sensation when I do so.
I hope I'll survive.
I still need to avenge myself to Mik.
\|/ Turn 17, dark
I wish death was warmer.
Mik kept me company the entire turn. After I finished writing it was almost midlight, and I hadn't left the tent (because I couldn't). Mik must've noticed and called out "Maya?" (poorly, but it's trying) a few times. I hissed that I was inside.
Mik peeked into the tent from outside and saw me in the same position as it had left me.
"I'm not well, Mik." I rasped to it. It didn't understand, of course, but my barely audible hissing must've indicated something to it. It left the tent and came back with firewood from outside, leaving it on the campfire for this dark, and then it crouched next to me.
It placed the back of its hand against my forehead.
"Again, with the patting?" I joked to it. But it wasn't patting me this time, it was waiting with its hand against my forehead. It looked... contemplative? It also looked utterly unsure.
Then it stopped, realizing something, baring its teeth and shaking its head, and tapped my left shoulder.
I tried to bring my left arm outside the cocoon. A jolt of agony went through me.
"AAA!" I yelped at the action.
Mik was startled and recoiled slightly.
Panting from the pain, I started pulling my left arm with my right. It was painful, but nowhere near as much as the first attempt.
My entire left arm was discolored horribly. The scales had become dark and between them there was the awful brown.
Mik got startled by that and put its palm onto its forehead.
It then, extremely carefully, touched the bandage and looked at me.
I bared my teeth at it.
Maybe Mik has some healing properties. Or maybe it wants to gauge whether it should end the pain sooner.
Mik, surprisingly gently, unwrapped the bandages. Despite its efforts the process was extremely painful, and I was wheezing-crying by the end of it.
The sight was absolutely horrible.
The wound was still slightly open, but the flesh underneath was a dark green, darker than it should ever be. The taste was putrid. The scales that started growing back were so improper that they didn't even connect properly, some sticking out in jagged chunks. I could see pulsating green lines in the flesh, my blood, leading the infection to the rest of my body. Killing me.
Mik saw it for a moment, let the bandages go and quickly left the tent. I heard it retching outside.
I stared into the abyss that was my arm.
The black reminded me of the shadow. Its eyes stared back at me from the hole.
I was utterly mesmerized, staring into the wound.
Mik came back at some point, I don't know how long it took it. It came inside and covered the wound with the bandages once more, saying something.
Mik's face was unusually pale. Usually it was a slight red, sometimes more when it was doing something. It looked so white that it was actually frightening. Like it's frozen from horror.
It covered the wound again and I stopped staring into it.
Mik enveloped me with its right arm again.
I cried.
What else could I do?
What else could Mik do?
…
Afterwards it sat down and didn't leave me alone again. It only left to drink water and to make more food. It came back with more meat and berries. It seems to have managed to cut the black shadow efficiently. I noticed dried black blood on the hatchet this time.
…
It gave me a bowl. I could barely hold it at this point.
I wanted to eat. I really did. It even made a teeth baring "face" in the bowl with the berries. But I couldn't. My jaw felt stiff when I tried to open it, and I gave up after that.
I set the bowl aside.
Mik finished its meal and went over to me.
It took the bowl into its lap and brought food to my snout.
It said something and brought the food in wavy motion. I didn't do anything. I was too tired.
It started crying, saying something. I think it was begging.
I took a bite, despite everything. I didn't want to eat, it felt sickening.
This continued for a bit.
It didn't stop crying and talking to me.
After a mark the meal was mostly finished and Mik set the bowl aside. It lied down next to me this time, instead of the opposite side of the campfire.
It's still like this while I'm writing this. Mik stopped crying but it looks horrible. I don't have the power to cry anymore.
I'm still so cold. I wish it was warmer. I wish I could be on a dune, or at home, enjoying life.
Instead, I'm dying in the grasp of an alien that got too attached to something too stupid to survive.
Everything tastes like rot.
writing is getting too hard, arm cramping and shaking
it's so cold
if you ever decipher this Mik
im sorry
i don't want to leave you alone again