Chapter Text
The blaring heat from the sun bakes the ground beneath them dry, into flaky crusts that grind to dust beneath their feet. There were barely any hints of wind, so even the finer dust that gets kicked up doesn't go anywhere and simply settles back down when they’ve left.
Humidity was scarce in this land. Their skin felt dehydrated and stretched out, eyes felt like they could shrivel up and fall out of the socket already. They weren’t completely out of water just yet but they all knew it would be the case if they can’t make it to their destination in time, which means that they can’t, really can’t afford to take any more divergences like fighting with giant mutated vultures.
Ivan narrows his eyes at the snappy brunette, her fluffy hair was snipped short, barely long enough for her to put them in a small pony that doesn’t brush against her neck and give her extra warmth. She wore a dark cowboy hat that she at the moment used to fan her face, either flushed with heat or she’d been sunburnt as she stared into the distance with squinted eyes and muttering nonsense – to him – at them. Her face was caked with dirt from when she’d passed out earlier. Too bad humans don’t benefit from a good ol’ dust bath, or it might lessen the woman’s anger. They had found an inch of scarce shade in the crooked, long-since-dead tree that the vultures had made into a nest. Now that the previous owners were neutralized, the shade was for them to use as a temporary resting place and listen to, honestly, pointless ramblings. Next to him, nodding distantly along was Den, lips pressed firmly together and face pale – on account of the blood loss, probably – as the woman nursed her wounded leg.
Ivan watched her intensely. She liked changing her own bandaging as much as possible, so unless it’s when she was physically unable to, he’d wait for his help to be required rather than offering and risk annoying her. Still, he was concerned. They didn’t have proper bandaging, having to make do with relatively cleaner rags. If luck fails them, which, honestly, it probably will, she’d get infected either from that or if dirt gets in her injury.
“I swear, if anything stops us from getting there tonight,” she huffs a breath, fanning her face fast. She speaks quietly and with a wince. Her voice sounded off.
“Didn’t you kick the egg?” Ivan reminded her. He also doesn’t point out that she remains majorly unscathed, skipped out most of the battle in blissful unconsciousness, and really, kind of, deserved this since she initiated it. However, don’t ever mistake that he’s trying to save Chilly some grace by keeping his thoughts to himself, they just took too much energy to verbalize.
“I was pushed into the egg..!” Ivan concentrated on her voice. There was something scratchy about it, cracking when she raised her voice but it was so much of an usual occurrence now-adays (since they've been here?) that no one brings attention to it anymore. Christian gives her a look, a look mixed with irritation and slight… concern? Maybe guilt. Ivan wasn’t very good at reading people. Chilly catches the look sent her way and her gaze quickly flitters to not meet it. She lets out another short huff of breath through her nose and grumbled, “I literally said, ‘we shouldn’t do a heat related scenario’, ‘it’s not gonna go well’, and it ‘makes my throat hurt’. But noooo-” She coughs, and as she does her face crunches up in a wince, “Someone just wanted to experience it soooo bad…” She breaks off into a coughing fit.
“How was I supposed to know it would make you suffocate?” Christian defended himself sheepishly, a pensive smile on his face that would make him seem insincere to those that don’t know him well, but the very fact that you don’t feel his presented ‘genuinity’ that’s the telltale sign he’s not putting on layers of deceit.
“I told you guys that!”
Curt nods in the background. He’d been the only other one to vote against the idea but three against two they still had to be here. He had an I-told-you-so grin on his face, being the only one spared from Chilly’s pestering.
“You just said, ‘oh, don’t make me go in the heat, I’ll die’,” Christian imitated, shrinking a bit more against the tree when Chilly glared at him, “I had no idea you were being literal.”
“That’s your own fault, I think,” Ivan chimed, “You’re always so dramatic, Chilly.”
“I get to be dramatic if I’m going to die!”
“You always act like you’re going to die, that’s exactly why we never,” Ivan falters slightly when Den looks at him, bright irises and slightly furrowed eyebrows stern. But, he finishes his thought anyway, just quieter, on account of his own painfully scratchy throat, “take you seriously, Chilly. You brought this on-” he coughs, “-yourself.”
“Calm down, you two,” Den moved her gaze from Ivan back to Chilly. “Peace of mind is key to staying cool.”
Chilly pouted.
Christian began again, quieter this time but still firm. “And I did say you should get that checked out, instead of,” he paused and sounded a bit ashamed when he continued, “asking us not to go somewhere we all want to go.”
"Who's 'we'?" Curt teased.
Ivan was surprised that Christian would speak on it again, he thought he would have taken the opportunity to let the confrontation pass (he certainly would have) and just hoped Chilly would forget it (forgive it quietly) like she does with other things. But maybe he really did feel guilty, which was quite a rare occurrence.
“Sure!” She hisses, sitting down cross legged on the ground with the rest of them. When she waved her hands about, she stirred up some dust stirred by her and made her cough. “Tell them ‘hey, in another universe, I got strangled to death by a fri- a bitch, and now my throat hurts all the time and I can’t breathe well when it's hot’?”
Ivan decided to promptly ignore the first half of the sentence, then where she’s certainly exaggerating (it can’t hurt all the time. It can’t or he’d have to think about that every time he sees her and feel guilty), and ask only about the last part, “Why only hot?”
“Would you like me to be permanently suffocating?” Chilly snarled, bringing a hand up to rub at her throat, clearly mistaking the question as just another instance of Ivan wishing ill upon her. He wouldn’t correct her on his intent. She doesn’t need to know shit about whether he feels bad or not. “Cold is a soothing element, naturally I do better in the cold.”
“It is the ‘Chilly’ in ‘Chilly Panda’?” Den joked? Maybe? She sounded sincere, though the question itself sounded like a joke.
“Yup,” She softened a bit. Den had only gotten injured because she had to protect her, having escaped pretty much unbothered from every other encounter they’ve had here. “And Christian does better in the heat — fucking psycho — ever since he came back from the volcano.”
“As the volcano,” Christian corrected. He really did look the most at ease out of all of them. Blood and bruises litter his skin but he didn’t look hot out of his skin, not even a little sun-burnt. “But I do really bad in cold environments.”
His movements become sluggish and his reaction slows. Ivan remembered. His body temperature, at its lowest, is still much higher than the normal humans and it takes much more energy to maintain, what with the hotter something is, the faster it loses heat and all that.
Chilly looked towards him. For a second her face was entirely blank, but then a smile starts to creep on her face, a bit sinister.
“Jesus,” Curt guessed, “You’ve got something diabolical planned.”
“I definitely know what theme the adventure is gonna be when it’s my turn, I’ll say that much,” Chilly cackled intentionally evilly, finally putting her hat back on her head and looking back out at the horizon.
Christian sighed audibly, but didn't make any attempts to steer himself away from this fate. They could see their destination in the distance, though the heat makes them delirious and warps the air around them so that it’s hard to be certain. Still, if they don’t make it there by tomorrow, they’d probably have to kill one of them and drink their blood. Probably Chilly, then, to put her out of her misery. (and to solidify his certain doom the next time Chilly gets to host. He was clearly going to suffer anyway)