#author notes: thresher is he/himming themself in the pov bc of old translation quirks btwn the languages they speak

[clannfearrunt]

"Warmth"

A pair of short scenes I wrote a while back; snippets of Thresher and Rill interacting with their fathers on a winter day.

Thresher carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies of his podmates, reaching for the flap covering the tent exit. He paused, hearing the soft grunt of someone rousing from sleep. 

“Where are you going?” It was Jin. He lifted his heavy head to blink drowsily at his child. “It’s cold out.”

Thresher pulled out his phone to check the weather. 50F. “Taking a piss. It’s not cold.” Jin worried too much. He stepped outside, ignoring the low grumbling coming from behind. 

Crisp winter air greeted him outside; the night was quite chilly, unpleasantly so, but not dangerous. The earth beneath his bare feet had failed to retain any heat from the weak December sun, and hungrily sapped his own body heat away. He supposed Jin’s concern was fairly reasonable this time. He does the worrying so I don’t have to, he reminded himself. Thresher stretched upwards, refusing his body’s instinct to shrink against the cold. Sitting there shivering wouldn’t help him get back to bed any quicker. 

Before heading back inside, he paused to gaze out into the desert. All was quiet save for the occasional rustle of dead shrubs as a breeze nipped gently against his skin. Though moonless, the night wasn’t dark - the distant haze of Splatsville’s lights smothered out the stars that Thresher had heard should be lighting up the sky instead. He squinted up at the faint remaining stragglers blinking weakly in the vanishing patches of darkness for a few moments, then gave up and slunk through the tent’s heavy tarp. 

Inside, Thresher thought he caught Jin turning conspicuously onto his side. No doubt he had been sitting awake waiting for him to return. 

He doesn’t have to do that, he sighed. Thresher wasn’t a little kid anymore. 

But he gently passed over the rest of his family again (even Reef, who ran the warmest) and draped himself over Jin, settling against the dull heat of his body. He idly counted the spots on Jin’s speckled hide - there were more stars on his back than in the night sky outside - until his eyelids began to drop. 

In the morning when they all wake, Buddy would be chirping for everyone’s full attention, and it would be Thresher’s turn to be the older podmate. But for now, in the long winter night, Thresher was warm against a sea of stars, and he was Jin’s little calf. 

-------

“— so today, my son’s taking our newest Lampris™ heatwear system for a spin himself!”

“Right, it’ll be interesting to find out how much longer I – or any other cold-blooded folks – would be able to stay out here with the new gear.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to share this experience with more people afterwards, but finally getting to take my boy out on the ice proper – now that’s what matters!”

“Alright folks, see you around, and good fishing!” Fathom cut the video recording and set out to upload it to his Twitter. If he had noticed how quickly his son Rill had pulled his protective mask and goggles back on, he showed no signs of it. Rill did notice their butler leaning in to say something to Fathom, which he seemed to cheerfully brush off; the butler returned to their vehicle with obvious hesitation, where he stood hovering by the driver door with the keys visible in his hand. Well, at least someone was watching out for Rill.

Already, Rill regretted taking his mask off for any amount of time. The electric heating system in his stupid coat provided barely any relief against the freezing air he just took into his lungs. He probably shortened his time out here by quite a bit by chilling his core from the inside out. If they weren’t out here to fish, he could probably raise his temperature with some heavier exercise. He just hoped he’d be able to stay out long enough to satisfy Fathom. Rill narrowed his eyes at his “father”’s unmasked, un-goggled head; the sheer difference in their respective cold weather equipment pissed him off. Fathom’s breath turned to steam with every exhale, and Rill wanted to tear into the fish’s hot innards and steal his undeserved warmth.

Since Rill’s time was more limited, his father had him drop his lure first. Fathom immediately began coaching him on effective jigging techniques, but already Rill was having trouble listening. How long had it been since they drove out onto the ice? The initial estimate for how long he could stay out here wearing the Lampris system, without heavy exercise, was an hour to an hour and a half - how much of it had they used during transportation and setup? 

The warmth from the battery operated heat packs were faint, struggling against the freezing temperatures outside. The battery life probably wasn’t long either, considering the cold. What even was the temperature outside right now? He couldn’t remember. 

Was he moving his lure? He tried to lift his rod slightly and let it drop again. Was he even using the right technique? 

Did his body store ink in large volumes while in rest? Or did it produce it as needed? 

At what temperature did ink freeze? 

Was he breathing? 

Yes. Okay. 

But it felt glacial, as he felt his body slowly slipping towards torpor. 

It was interesting, he noted dully, just how slowly one could continue to panic. 

“Rill, Rill you’ve got a bite!” Fathom’s shout sounded like it came from somewhere between 3 feet to 3 miles away. 

Oh, Rill thought distantly. I guess fish really are desperate on the ice. 

Suddenly he found his arms yanked backward, snapping the rod sharply upwards. Fathom was behind him. Right. Rill struggled to remember how to turn his hand to reel in his line. His boneless arms seemed more stiff than should be possible. He felt vibrations through his back from what was probably Fathom shouting something, but he didn’t hear what it was– 

And Fathom peeled away, reaching for the catch. Some kind of medium sized fish. Whatever. Fathom clapped him on the back and babbled excitedly, but Rill no longer registered its meaning. At this point it took all his focus just to take the fish from Fathom’s hands and hold it up for the photo he was sure to want. 

As Fathom handed off his phone to their butler and posed for a photo, Rill leaned in closer than he normally would, pressing himself into his father’s embrace – but no warmth made it through to him between each of their coats.