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raindrenchedstories · 11 months

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Stranded

A short fic of Otis

He always had a love for diving. The beauty of the world around him. The wild life and it’s behavior. The freedom of motion, being able to explore the vertical and horizontal space around him. All perfectly paced by the limited time you had to experience it. Which made every moment more precious.

He never planned to dive alone. It was supposed to be so simple. Then the boat left him. He floated for a long time, using as little of his oxygen as he could. The thermal suit kept his body warm for now. He had an emergency bag, with a flare, but they couldn’t survive being soaked for too long. He still would rather fire it once he saw signs of life.

Still, his arms and legs were getting tired. He debated long and hard with himself if it was better to seek some form of land, or to stay where he was lost. What was best for his survival?

He decided to find land. In any other situation he’d stay put, but right now, survival first. Chances were, if he found land, there would be a trade route through the area. He flipped to his stomach and began swimming. The world was nothing but a vast plane of blue for a while. Broken up by short waves.

It took him most of the afternoon, and his body was growing more and more weak. He had to rest, and he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to rest. It was then that the cry of a caught his attention. He paused to watch which way it flew. Birds meant land. So he made an effort to follow it.

It landed on a well occupied rotting log, bobbing along in the water. Perhaps a whole flock lived there. However, it was floating, and he was weakening. Otis swam for it. He gripped the dead tree desperately.

It was slippery with algae and bird droppings. Half the flock was displaced by him hauling himself up onto it. They settled happily on his back only a moment after. He ignored them. Worse case scenario, he had a free meal in being a landing strip. If they didn’t try and eat him first.

He watched the birds warily. Their attention was solely on the sea. Perhaps there was some event they were waiting for, but he could hardly care. He only thought about the safety of sleeping on a log in the middle of the sea. Would he be at risk of infection for sleeping in bird droppings? Did he care? He dozed off.

The water rolled beneath him, which woke him with a start. Especially when the log spun. He found himself submerged and it was only through a lucky gasp that he even had air. He fumbled for his oxygen before coming to his senses. He had to breach the water. He had to surface, he had to-

Something big moved below him. Disconcerting but not at all concerning. Most aquatic mega fauna was safe. He popped his mask on, and took a breath. It... was not a whale. Below him was an open face, humanoid, and interested. He spluttered and made his way to the surface. He must have tasted too much sea water. Maybe he got high off of what ever was baking in the sun on that log.

This theory was shot to hell when a large hand wrapped around him. He wanted to scream as his movement was restricted, but he refused to waste air. Instead, he only glared at the broad eyes staring back. They surfaced, and he spat his breather out. He would have ripped his mask off too, but his arms were trapped.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” He snapped. The face was female, as was the rest of the body he could see. She held him at chest level, to gaze down at him. Her hand shifted, and in a sickening drop and spin, he found himself laying on her palm. He removed his mask then, and took a worried peak over her hand.

She was pulling a Jesus, standing on top of the water like it were an average floor. He shot a glance back to her. Her second hand rose up to meet him. She was slow and careful, like she didn’t want to startle him. As if that mattered now. Instead, he scooted as far from the offending hand as he could.

She glanced around as if looking for something, all the while she muttered. He couldn’t make out the words, and came to the conclusion they probably didn’t speak the same language. She asked him a direct question, and he gave a shrug. Her brow furrowed.

She gestured to him, and he gave her a blank stare. At this point, it was clear she meant him no harm. He eyed the water hopefully, he just wanted to get back to reasonably stable ground. She looked down, then at him. Her free hand tapped a finger on her palm for his attention. She gestured down and tilted her head. He gave a nod.

This he could understand. He expected her to set him in the water and tower still, but instead, she sunk slowly. First her feet, then knees and so on. When her hand hit the water, she left it under him and sank further to be on eye level.

She gave him enough room to swim, but he could stand comfortably in her hand. Something he chose to do. She sighed. Her other hand fitted in her hair as she gazed about the horizon. Clearly something bothered her. Probably finding a small man in the middle of nowhere.

He waved for her attention. He couldn’t speak to her, but hand signals were easy to understand. They were designed to be. He drew on his diving knowledge and signaled that he wanted to go back to the boat. It wasn’t exactly correct, but he hoped she could draw on context. She squinted and held him closer instead.

Being so close to her face was disconcerting. He squirmed under the attention and backed himself against her fingers. He tried to repeat the signal. She looked puzzled still. He sighed.

“How about Land. Do you understand the word LAND?” He pleaded. She blinked, and he lost hope at communicating. Finally she made a gesture he didn’t quite understand. She then held him in a loose fist, which made things terrifying again. He was raised to sit on top of her head, while she moved about the water easily.

She started on a journey, leaving a wake of gulls behind her. He watched them dive to feed on whatever swam up behind her. She paid it no mind, and steadily trod along the water as though it were land. He wanted to complain, but honestly, he was just too tired to care. She made no effort to hurt him, and was clearly concerned for his well being. So he didn’t feel like he was in any danger. He only lamented that he’d been on that disgusting log before she put him in her hair.

He played with the idea of it all being a dream. However, he knew better. You usually wake up from terrifying dreams. This was real. The water parted around her in a soothing way, and the sound of the ocean calmed him. She walked casually, but covered so much area in such a small space of time.

Finally, she found a small island. But by the time she tried to reach for him, she heard a small snore from her own head. The woman stifled a laugh, she tried to extract him without waking him. She thought she failed, until she felt him shiver in her hands.

The poor thing was probably struggling the whole day. Her thumb stroked his back as she laid him on the small island, past the tide line. She couldn’t exactly start a fire near him safely, so she chose to sit beside him and lay her hand over his body. She’d seen ships pass by from time to time, but she had no concept of their schedule.

He was the first human she’d ever met, and he was stranded and alone. She waited with him until dawn. When he finally stirred. She half expected the scream, but it still startled her. He flattened himself against the first tree he found. She watch him go from frightened to understanding, as his feet explored the soft sand.

She shot him a smile and stood. She pointed to the sand, and drew a quick sketch of a boat passing the island. He watched, and nodded. He then drew his own diagram for her, but it was too small for her to see. She wavered helplessly. He sighed, held his arms up in an odd gesture. She assumed he was asking to be picked up. So she did so.

He screamed, and she instantly felt like an ass. Still she brought him eye level. He gestured firmly to the ground. She set him down. He stormed in a circle for a moment before she tapped the sand beside him. She had something she wanted, and this was her first chance to get it. She’d never seen a human before, so she wanted to draw him.

He watched her mime a pen on paper in her hand, and gave a nod. “Yes, I can write. If you have something for me to write on... Or I could find a stick I guess. But if you can’t see at-” He was cut off when she stood up suddenly. She motioned for him to stay put, and excitedly charged into the water.

It took her an hour to return. An hour he spent making himself a shelter, and trying to spear fish with a stick he’d found. He’d roughly ground it down with a rock but it still was pretty blunt.

He held the stick aloft when she arrived. An odd book was held in her hand, and a very large pen. He didn’t know why he expected otherwise. Still, he threw the stick into the sand and walked to her. She was still uncomfortably tall.

She sat herself in the sand and began writing. He waited to be shown what she was saying for a while. However when the wait felt too long, he cleared his throat loudly. The woman peeked over her book, and tilted her head. He made a writing motion on his hand.

It was then she flushed, she turned the book, and showed him a series of rough sketches. They were all of him. He gawked. “You... wanted to draw me. I see.” He had to say, he was somewhat flattered. He gave another nod, if that was it, he could sit still. However, his stomach protested heavily.

He raised a finger to signal he needed time, and for good measure, placed a hand on his stomach. She watched him, and nodded quickly. She drew a fire in her book and showed it to him. She poked the drawing, then him. She then drew a fish and a drop of water, and pointed to herself.

It took less time now, as she brought him a whole salmon, and a discarded water cooler, filled with actual bottles of water. He was delighted to say the least. The whole time he cooked she sketched. She also drew him while he ate and drank. He didn’t care in the least. He was on land, he was fed, and he had water. It was thanks to her and he wasn’t going to ruin it for himself.

This arrangement continued for three days. At one point, she helped him with his shelter. He was more accustomed to being around her, and the daily sketch. At one point he let the suit rest around his hips, and the sketching came in full force. He ignored her.

On the fourth day, he was woken before the sun rose with a loud smacking beside his shelter. Otis spat out sand as he staggered over to her. “Come on. It’s too fucking early to pose and sit pretty. Can you even see right now?”

She pointed furiously at a set of lights traveling the sea. He fumbled to light his flare and fired it. The lights on the ship blinked in acknowledgment and he found himself laughing deliriously. “Yes YES!!! They see me! Lady they see me! I’m going home! I’m-”

He stopped to stare into her eyes. She stared back at him. They both knew this was probably the end of their time together, but she still smiled. He pointed to her hand. She held it out to him.

Gently, he rested his head on her pinky finger. “Thank you.” It was all he could say. She held him loosely in her best approximation of a hug, and withdrew her hand. He turned to watch for the small boat they’d send for him. He then turned back to her and placed a hand on his chest. “Otis.” He said firmly.

She nodded, and copied the gesture. “Pril.” Swiftly, she turned and made for the water. He watched her go sadly. She saved his life, and all he could do was be a model for a short time. When the boat arrived he trod over to it, with only passing regret he couldn’t give her more.

“You guys are life savors. Thank you. All of you.” He called to the men in the boat.

“No lo entendemos, pero nos alegra que estés bien” One of the men in the boat called back. Otis’ shoulders dropped. He just sighed, and got in the damn boat.

“Canada. Please.” He groaned.

“Que entendemos.”

#Giant/tiny #Stranded at sea #My works #Original characters #Otis #New giant character #Google translated at the end #Language barrier

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vampirepunks · 2 months

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I really love all the DS2 theories I've seen so far but one thing I'm picking up is a lot of people expecting Higgs to still be on the same trajectory/goal set as he was in the first game and y'know....... I don't think that's the case.

The overall theme of DS2 from what we've seen so far + Kojima's comments seems to be the concept of opposites, inverses, and dualities, as though it's saying, "take the entire idea and turn it inside out and upside down." It appears to challenge the viewer to subvert whatever expectation/understanding they have based on the first game. It's eternal recurrence as seen through a mirror. The first game was themed around blue and black, this one is red and white. Connection becomes disconnection. Hope becomes despair. Age becomes youth. Repetition becomes change.

Buckle up, I've got thoughts.

(This pattern of contrasts illustrates a theory I've had since DS1 based on Nietzsche's "Thus Spake Zarathustra" and the three-stage journey of metamorphoses--camel -> lion -> child--required to become the overman, but that'll be a separate post. If you're already familiar with the book, just know that in this context DS1 would be the camel and thus DS2 encompasses the lion.)

So, in DS1, Higgs is a hyper-fatalist obsessed with extinction. It's easy to assume that hasn't changed, that he's still dedicated to Amelie and wants to end the world... Too easy, right? Has anything Kojima has written ever been that simple?

I raise you this: In the vein of eternal recurrence, Sam becomes Cliff and Higgs becomes Amelie/Bridget... but this is not a literal retelling, rather, a metaphorical one. A dark mirror to the stories we already know.

So if the theme is opposition, what's the opposite of extinction? Creation. What's the first thing we learn about Higgs in the DS2 trailers? He's a musician now. He sings and he plays guitar. And, arguably, music is the very essence and lifeblood of creation itself, one of the very first things mankind created when our species was in its infancy. Further, Higgs uses his own umbilical cord (yes, it's an umbilical cord), as a guitar jack, channeling his ties to life, death, and his own soul in his performance, highlighting that he has an intimate connection to this core act of creativity. More about that in this post.

Now, DS1 already has a lot of themes and motifs surrounding duality, most notably the concept of chirality: two things that are each other's opposite, two hands imperfectly overlapping, two objects that act as one another's mirror. Powerful things happen when they collide--anything ranging from drug interactions to voidouts to the very birth of the universe.

If I'm reading this right, Sam is set to become the chiral counterpart to his father's tragedy and Higgs is set to become the chiral counterpart to the extinction entity. The same narratives we know, recurring once more, but flipped to become something entirely new at the same time. A rope that becomes a stick and a stick that becomes a rope. Humanity will always need both; the stick is not evil for serving its purpose, nor is the rope inherently good for doing its job. "Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil."

I'm calling it now: Higgs is not serving Amelie, not seeking to bring her back, not trying to become her. He is rebelling against the idea of her, unshackling himself from the role she placed him in, taking back the autonomy he lost and acting to avenge the abandonment and manipulation he suffered. He's claiming her image as his own to make a mockery of what she represents, painting himself up to look like her decaying corpse, all in an effort to prove she no longer controls him, defiantly asserting, "The queen is dead... long live the king." And so, what is there left for him to do but throw himself into reckless acts of creation? Life from death. Extinction Entity? Cute. Try this on for size: Creation Entity.

#justice for my boy <3 #finally using the jokes i've been making in a serious post aha #i don't however expect this to work out for Higgs the way he plans/hopes #he thirsts and starves for connection but the divine is inherently disconnected. detached. distant.#to become a god is to be alone above the world. singular and unmatched. midas still can't shake hands no matter how beautiful his garden is #the higher they rise the harder they fall. i just hope sam is there to catch him when he does. just as he caught amelie at the end of DS1 #what was icarus when the sea embraced him if not more human than ever before?#i also really need to make a post about sam as sisyphus and higgs as prometheus. both trapped in a neverending cycle #higgs monaghan #death stranding #ds2 #ds2 theories #logan.txt

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