Twenty Questions and a Shave
"What is your favorite animal?" Wilson asked, surprising Willow.
She had been sharpening her spear and absentmindedly observing the campfire from the confines of their tent before Wilson spoke. The last few days had passed in an uneventful haze, nothing spectacular to differentiate them from each other.
He was not pleased with her actions to spare the Koalefant, which she had anticipated, and he had demonstrated his displeasure with his actions clearly. Choosing to craft his own bedroll had been an indicator. Their lack of usual conversation was another.
That was why it when he asked something so arbitrary it surprised her.
Instead of gracing him with an answer, she deflected his question with another full of suspicion, "Why?"
Wilson shrugged, turning towards Willow who sat cross-legged at the entrance of the tent, "I thought it would be a welcome change from the silence."
"No, I mean why are you deciding to talk to me now?"
Wilson sighed, ever since their disagreement he needed time to think. His simmering anger had subsided and he was able to reach a conclusion.
Two sides had waged war inside Wilson. The gentleman in him dictated that he should apologize to her for so blatantly disregarding her wishes in favor of his own. Another raged that he had nothing to apologize for, as he was scientifically correct in his reasoning.
"Willow, over the course of these few weeks you must have noticed that I am indeed – quite stubborn."
He let the words sink in, after she nodded, he continued, "Yes, I do think that your decision was a foolish waste of resources, yes I was angry that you chose it," he paused, "and unfortunately we're in a dire position because of your decision."
She lowered her gaze reproachfully; his words had found their mark. Wilson had made clear how beneficial the food would be, and he was right, their subsequent rabbit and fish hauls were diminishing at a frightening rate. They had not found any food today, and the Beefalo were still woefully missing.
"Conversely, there was no conceivable way that you could know that this would happen; the Beefalo's disappearance is baffling to say that least. Regardless, it did not justify disregarding your decision in such a rude manner."
Wilson leaned back on his stool, before focusing his gaze on Willow and clasping his hands together. It was difficult for him to acknowledge he was wrong, but it had to be done.
"I am almost exclusively a solitary man, abiding by my own set of rules. I am not very… considerate in some areas," he paused to think, before concluding, "especially in decision making."
"This," he pointed at his nose, "was a result of my own arrogance, nothing more."
That had concluded Wilson's monologue. Now it was Willow's turn to respond, and she digested his words carefully. It was a full two minutes before she spoke.
"Is this how you usually apologize?"
"I don't usually apologize, but yes Willow, I am sorry for my actions."
Willow's heart lightened extensively at the word 'sorry', it had been lacking in his previous monologue but now he supplied it.
"However," here came the catch, it seemed, "I must implore you to thoroughly consider the consequences of your actions
"No one who says 'but' in an apology is truly apologetic."
He narrowed his gaze. "You doubt the sincerity of my apology? I do not mince words Willow. Try to understand my position in all of this. I very much wish to survive this ordeal, but if you make decisions that jeopardize our survival, how am I to feel?"
He must have thought this entire conversation through in his hours of thought, she guessed. A man that applied the scientific method in all areas of his life. It was somewhat unsettling to her how thoroughly the mentality manifested itself in Wilson. But then again, who was she, a self-proclaimed pyromaniac, to judge?
"Okay, fine, I'll consider them."
"In that case, what would happen if we were to run across, say, another Koalefant? What then? Is your debt repaid to the creatures? A life for a life? Quid pro quo?"
His thoroughness was damning at times, he really wasn't simply going to let this go it seemed, much to Willow's chagrin. She wanted nothing more than to simply put the event behind them, but it was important to Wilson that the subject was completely dissected and examined before he could file it away.
"We'll… hunt it," she finally relented, with a great deal of effort on her part.
"Thank you, Willow."
Satisfied, he stood up and joined her, sitting across from her wearing a meek grin. Wilson understood how greatly this event played in her heart, and understood her heartfelt sacrifice in choosing to side with him.
In hindsight, he understood what it felt like, the guilt. It was his lust for more knowledge that put him in this situation. A thought that was not often dwelled upon, but never forgotten either.
"Back to my original question, what is your favorite animal?"
Willow chuckled lightly, "You really want to know, don't you?"
"Absolutely."
"Guess," she stated bluntly.
No, this wouldn't do, thought Wilson to himself. His curiosity had been aroused ever since the seemingly insignificant question came to mind, and to unable to sate it was tormenting.
"I would much rather you just tell me," he implored gently.
"Where's the fun in that?" she said and winked at him.
"Fine," he conceded, "Is it a cat?"
"Pff! No, why would you think that?"
Faintly agitated, "I am 'guessing', as you say. Is it a Koalefant?"
"No, mm," she hummed thoughtfully, "Let's play twenty questions."
"What is 'Twenty Questions'?"
She looked at him dubiously, "You've never played twenty questions?"
He shook his head, "You missed out, what kind of childhood did you have anyway?" she asked rhetorically.
It was not exactly a comfortable question to the scientist, but thankfully she did not pursue it any further. His childhood was not exactly traditional in the eyes of society.
"How exactly is Twenty Questions played?"
"Basically," she said, waving a finger, "You ask me twenty questions to figure out what my favorite animal is. I can only respond to by a 'yes' or a 'no'. When you asked if it was a cat, it counted as one question, so you've got eighteen left."
This sounded highly intriguing to the scientist, a game that rewarded logical thinking and deduction. He would win this game of hers.
"Is it a mammal?"
Willow did not think that his third question would stump her, but it did, "No, well, yes, maybe – wait, what's a mammal again?"
This would take a while Wilson guessed, as he went into a bout of explanation regarding the definition of a mammal. Once concluded Willow's brow was deep in thought, "I really don't know whether it's a mammal or not. Maybe."
"If I remember correctly, 'maybe' is not an acceptable answer."
"Hold on," she said, thinking, "Is there anything else you can tell me about mammals?"
"Well, I've basically expended my knowledge on you…" his brow furrowed in thought, "Maybe there's one more thing, they typically give birth to live young."
That counted, right? Willow was not so sure, but decided to go with it anyway. But that meant… oh whatever she decided.
"It's both."
And so went the game on, Wilson whittling down certain details but slowly getting nowhere. When he reached his second last question, he thought he had been played as a fool.
Exasperated, "What in the confounded heavens is it then?!" he asked.
"I thought scientists didn't give up," she teased, enjoying his frustration to a ridiculous degree.
"We don't," he quickly replied, "But on account of my hunger, my intellect suffers slightly."
It was not an intentional barb, but a barb it was nonetheless. Wilson saw her giddy expression vanish, and something more guilt-ridden take its place. He decided that sometimes he could be scientific to a fault. He placed his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Hey," he said, gaining her attention, "It is not your fault, our luck will improve."
"Hmph, you're just saying that to make me feel better," she said and crossed her arms irately.
"As long as you are by my side, I have no doubts."
Something like that a girl could take out of context, and Willow was very much a girl. She would have pointed out that that they're practically starving because of her, but she didn't. He talked before she could think any further, oblivious to her thoughts.
"So enlighten me, what is this perplexing creature that happens to be your favorite animal?"
Twiddling her fingers slightly, distinctively aware of Wilson's hand on her shoulder, "It's a… phoenix,"
Wilson did not know whether to be mad on account of her choosing a fictional creature as her favorite animal, or to laugh at the aptness of her selection. A combination of both ensued, but the latter won. Willow thought he was laughing at her choice.
"Hey! What's so funny?!" she shouted, he abruptly stopped laughing, and looked at the grumpy pyromaniac wearing a scowl on her face. He could not resist and another bout of laughter ensued. Willow patiently waited, knowing that she could get her revenge somehow but his breathless words stunned her once more.
"It's just, it's just so," he gave himself a moment to regain his breath, "very much like you."
It might have been the hunger playing tricks on her, but there was something slightly different in the manner he had said that. There had to be.
"Is something wrong?"
Being dragged from the endless planes of her mind for the third time today, she quickly responded, "No, I'm fine, really."
He looked at her curiously for a moment, "If you say so," he looked at the campfire, it was dwindling on account of the snowfall, "I'll be a moment, the fire needs to be tended to."
She nodded dumbly, and when he left the tent she buried her face in her palms. What was going on? He had said these things before, sort of, why was now any different? She was acting like a stupid giddy schoolgirl head over heels in love. With some random youngish scientist type guy that saved her in for all she could know, an alternate dimension, or whatever.
She didn't even know his full name!
After taking several deep calming breaths, she stood up and briskly walked out of the tent. She was going to determine his full name this very instant.
Wilson was busy chopping up a log to toss into the fire when a very bewildered Willow approached him, he noted and saw a look of determination etched on her face.
"Willow, are you quite alright?" he asked cautiously when she came into range.
"What?" she demanded angrily, "Yes! Why wouldn't I be?"
He gulped somewhat audibly, deliberately lower his gaze to her feet for a moment and withdrawing it. Willow noted the icy sensation working its way up from her feet and into her legs, confused, she looked down.
She wasn't wearing shoes.
"Um, no reason," he replied less than honestly, "Are you displeased because I laughed? I intended no disrespect Willow, it was simply an amusing situation I assure you."
"What?" she asked, perplexed, "No, that's not why I'm here."
He nodded slowly, "Then why are you here?"
It was embarrassing, her standing barefoot in the snow not wearing anything substantial to ward off the cold, but she was not willing to let all the momentum go down the drain, "I wanted to ask you what your name was."
Warning bells echoed in Wilson's mind, thinking that she might be delirious. He put down the axe and peacefully gestured with his hands, "My name is Wilson, Wil-son," he emphasized each syllable by rapping his fingers against his chest.
Baffled, Willow tried to reply but Wilson beat her to it, "And you are Willow, Will-ow," pointing both of his hands to her.
Beginning to comprehend what Wilson was getting at, "I'm not crazy! I know who I am!" she said passionately, "I meant, what is your full name, like including surname?"
Puzzled, he asked, "This could not wait until I returned?"
She racked her mind for an explanation, one that actually made sense, "I... uh, I decided some fresh air would be nice as well."
"I see," he said dubiously, casting another glance at her feet, "Very well, my full name is Wilson Percival Higgsbury."
Interesting name, thought Willow as she tested the words on her tongue. They sounded somewhat odd, but she could get used to them.
"Since you are so… keen on some fresh air, would you like to accompany me on a short trip? We still have some daylight left."
Internally Willow sighed, she wanted nothing more than crawl back into the warmth of the tent and tend to some nondescript chores even though her stomach groaned in hunger. Heat took precedence to food, but she would need to tend to the need eventually.
And the idea of spending the rest of the day cooped up with Wilson in the warm stuffy tent… felt somewhat embarrassing given her current state of emotions.
"Sure, we can go. Ju-just give me a minute to get on my gear."
Wilson idly wondered if Willow had consumed a green mushroom, or several. Hopefully not he mused, carrying the logs to the campfire and tossing them in. He planned to observe her on this trip nonetheless; it would not be beneficial if she was indeed losing her mind.
He nudged their thermal stones markedly closer to the fire, watching them heat up as he waited for Willow. He'd probably have to ask her to retrieve them judging by their fiery red color. Her talent had indeed been useful as he predicted, making some small tasks noticeably easier.
He noticed Willow step out of their tent, thankfully wearing shoes this time. He exhaled in relief; perhaps she was fine after all. Her moods were fluctuating between submissive and dominant, an odd combination frankly.
"Are you prepared?" he asked.
She nodded, besides her stockings being slightly soggy from her previous silliness, she was ready.
"Good, would you please recover our thermal stones while I retrieve my backpack? I seem to have accidentally placed them too close to the fire."
Willow nodded and he went off to the tent. She had a sneaking suspicion he placed them so close to the fire on purpose, just so that he could ask her to retrieve them, another small way to make her feel useful. He had taken her feelings of inadequacy to heart and crushed them.
Most of all, she enjoyed how he displayed empathy instead of sympathy. Most people would have concurred that, yes it was quite sad, how she was feeling and all, but have done nothing about it. He made it an ongoing conscious tangible task. He did something.
Perhaps it was another facet of having such a structured and scientific mind, but she was happy for it. She smiled abashedly as she reached through the embers to retrieve the stones, he was a thoughtful guy.
"You certainly do enjoy watching fire," a voice remarked from her left.
She turned her head to see Wilson watching her unwaveringly wearing a grin. How long had he been there? She realized her hands were still grasping the red hot stones in the fire. Subsequently, she realized she had been thinking about Wilson this entire time and had not given the flames more than a passing glance.
He had not realized that he was the object of her thoughts, not the pretty flames.
"Uh, yes I do," she said hesitantly, "it's very… captivating."
"I shall remember that," he remarked, "would you kindly place my thermal stone in my backpack Willow?"
She obliged, and soon enough they were traveling. They were heading in a different direction today from their usual traps and such, it made Willow curious.
"Where are we going?
Wilson tilted his head slightly, noting Willow's unconcealed curiosity.
"You'll see, in due time."
"That's not fair," she complained to which he chuckled goodheartedly.
"Your favorite animal was 'not fair', both a mammal and not? And a fictional creature to boot! That was extremely unfair."
"Pff," she rebuked, "You're just mad because you're baaaad."
He cleared his throat, "I am not 'baaaad' as you say," he drew out the a's like a goat's bleating for comedic effect, it worked. Willow started laughing.
They traveled in relative silence after that. Coming upon a clearing after approximately twenty minutes of walking, Wilson gestured for Willow to be quiet for a moment. They stood behind a large tree. Willow watched the 'gentleman' carefully, remembering her last incident under a tree, but his attention was focused on something else.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, seeing no foul play on his part.
He did not respond immediately, and kept looking to the trees at the other side of the clearing. Willow could not detect anything spectacular from this specific clearing. She leaned against the huge tree, facing the direction they came from while Wilson crouched and observed something off in the distance.
Patience wearing thin, she was just about to tug the scientist on his jersey for leaving her out of the loop when he pulled out a Beefalo horn and blew on it. The sound echoed through the sparse air, carrying on for a few seconds before declining. Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her down to his level quickly. It wasn't exactly rough, but it was a far cry from his usual gentlemanly ways.
"What are you doing?" she asked, a bit loudly for Wilson's tastes. He ignored her question again, and pointed to a group of trees a fair distance away.
"Look," he said simply.
Willow looked at the trees, not detecting anything spectacular from them either, "What?" she asked. He shook his head and pointed at the spot again, "Look carefully," he said.
She studied the trees again, with every bit of effort she could muster. There was a sliver of movement that she caught, and something brown slowly moved out from behind the trees.
A brown Beefalo cautiously moved out from behind the trees. Mouth agape, she turned to Wilson who wore the satisfied grin of a scientist whose experiment yielded substantial results.
"How did you figure out where they would be?" she asked in astonishment.
"Guess," he said and winked at her, "But let us first hunt before we get into details."
She nodded, "Okay, let's do it."
They carefully followed the tree line to the Beefalo, as not to startle the beasts prematurely. Willow had said that they should be careful to not allow the beasts to catch their scent, but Wilson had merely pointed to his Beefalo hat.
For once the reek was a welcome addition; the musky odor of the hat almost completely masking their individual human scents. They neared the Beefalo, and saw that there were only three of them calmly grazing on some grass tufts. Both survivors readied their weapons, preparing for the battle ahead.
Willow took out her boomerang and tested its weight.
Wilson took several calming breaths; combat would always prove a challenge for him. It came more naturally to her for whatever reason, "Ready?" she asked him. He nodded quickly, and a second later they burst out from behind the cover of the trees and ambushed the Beefalo.
Willow's aim was true, and her boomerang slammed firmly into the head of one of the creatures, aggravating it. Wilson charged forward brandishing his spear firmly and landed a few solid blows to the creature, before evading its attack just in time.
She joined in the fight, and soon enough their spoils lay strewn across the snow, with the trio of Beefalo dead. It had not been an easy fight; both of them had several scrapes from close calls. Though Wilson had taken a nasty knock from the last one, a sizable bruise on his right arm left him cradling the sore arm.
Thankfully he detected nothing broken, Willow was kneeling beside him, "You okay?" she asked worriedly. She realized that this was still, her fault technically speaking. She felt more acutely responsible for everything that had happened.
"Ah, yes yes," he replied a little too quickly, "tis but a scratch."
Wanting to at least redeem herself a bit, she offered her hand to Wilson, he took it and stood up with her help. Together they collected their spoils, Wilson obviously favoring his left arm while tending to the task.
"What a tiring day!" Wilson exclaimed upon entering their tent, he carefully unslung his backpack using only his left arm and collapsed face first onto their bedroll, his being a bit too far away for his liking. He hoped Willow would not mind.
She entered a second later, "Yeah, I can agree to that."
Wilson rolled over to respond but made the mistake of rolling to his right, placing a large amount of pressure on his injured limb. His response was replaced by him trying to stifle the pain in his arm.
"Let me take a look at that."
Opening one of his clenched eyelids, he saw a very disheartened Willow.
"It's really no trouble, I assure you,"
Her pout grew into a slight scowl, "Then you won't mind me taking a look at it then."
Resigning, he gingerly lifted his arm to Willow. She slipped off her own vest, earmuffs and backpack before coming to sit behind him. She carefully helped him take off his own vest, and examined his arm.
"I'll have to take this off to get a good look," she said, pinching the fabric of his worn shirt between her fingers.
After he granted his permission, she took off his crimson waistcoat and began unbuttoning his shirt. She was at the second last button when she realized that she was undressing Wilson, the thought registering in uncharted territory within her mind.
She shook her head slightly, and looked up to Wilson. His head was tilted back looking up, currently focused on some improvements he wanted to make on the structure of the tent. Promptly resuming her work, she finished unbuttoning his shirt and opened it to reveal his chest.
Her breath caught as she saw his pale chest, several scars scattered unevenly on the surface. It was somewhat defined, probably from the daily effort required to survive. It was also completely void of hair. Tantalizingly she reached out and touched a scar with two of her fingers, causing Wilson to refocus on her.
"Ah, yes," he remarked sourly, "An unfortunate consequence of surviving in the world Maxwell placed us in."
She nodded, she had quite a few of her own scars, but not this many. Wilson felt her slow and rhythmic breathing tickle his chest, "Willow?" he asked.
"Yeah?" she asked, still focused on his chest.
"You wish to look at my arm?" he reminded her, it worked.
Quickly averting her gaze from his chest, she looked at him and nodded taking off his shirt completely. She was stunned by the shade of greenish purple his arm had discolored to; it must have been tremendously painful.
"That must hurt," she concluded after a cursory glance.
"Honestly, it does – but thankfully nothing feels broken."
Both of their stomachs chose this opportune moment to growl, reminding both of their hunger that demanded attention. They shared a laugh at the moment, and Willow helped Wilson redress after applying a salve to the area to heal the tiny bit of broken skin.
She helped him with general chores that he used to do alone, like fetching water and cooking. Finally with both of their stomachs full, and the remaining meat currently drying on some racks that Wilson had made, the time for bathing came.
"This reminds me of how we met," he absently remarked as Willow helped him remove his shirt. She had obliged to giving him the first turn, on account of his injuries.
"Yeah," she replied, smiling softly, "but this time you've got to depend on me, not the other way around."
He processed that, and replied, "I have no qualms with that, Willow. You are quite dependable."
"Thanks," she replied, appreciating the sincerity in his comment.
Slipping off his shirt, he replied, "You are welcome. I will be with you in a few minutes," she nodded and turned, prepared to head back to the tent when he said, "Oh! Yes, and remember Willow," she turned to face him again, "My name is Wil-son, Wilson Percival Higgsbury."
"I told you I just wanted some fresh air!" she cried meekly as he began removing his shoes, he laughed in turn, certain that she was not losing her mind as he had suspected a few hours ago.
"Of course, now if you'll excuse me."
She left and made her way back to the tent, knowing that Wilson was just teasing her for being silly. Faintly fuming, she decided to take her revenge – a dish best served hot she told herself, smiling. She grabbed Wilson's bedroll and took it outside to their fire and neatly propped it in. The fire blazed at the combustible offering.
Ten minutes later Wilson joined her by her side, neat and clean, "Was that my bedroll?" he cautiously ventured.
"Yep," she replied, still watching the flames dance in delight.
"So I'll be joining you tonight?"
"Yep,"
He sighed in relief, at least she did not expect him to sleep on the floor like he anticipated. There were some things even Willow was touchy about, like being treated clinically insane, he noted. He sat beside her and watched the flames with her.
Willow looked at him from the corner of her eye; he was smiling which she had not anticipated, "What? You're not mad?" she asked him incredulously. He shook his head, and looked at her skeptically, "No, why would I be?"
"I did just burn your bedroll," she explained, "which you sleep on."
He scratched his head, "But we sleep together, do we not?"
Ignoring the implications of that statement, and the faint burning in her cheeks, "I thought you wanted to sleep alone."
It was his turn to look abashed, "Erm, that was only because I needed time to think. I've actually grown rather… accustomed to the increased warmth."
"Oh," was all she could say.
She had planned the act to be both beneficial to her and detrimental to Wilson. She got to hoard his body warmth, and he had to lie with her. Instead it seemed he was also very reluctant to stop sharing a bedroll, which was a happy surprise to her.
"You do not mind? It will be difficult, but I could haphazardly craft another for myself if you wish to have your full revenge."
Indeed, he doubted his ability to craft anything substantial. He would probably end up sleeping in some smelly Beefalo wool.
"No, you don't have to do that," she said while thought, "but… you'll have to do something else instead."
"Anything," he said. She pulled out a sharp razor and grinned maniacally, he gulped and his beard practically shrieked.
"Ar-are you sure about this?" he asked meekly.
Her grin could not get any wider, "Oh I'm sure all right," she said, "I got all the badges in Girl Scouts."
Twenty minutes later, a clean-shaven Wilson inspected his chin carefully. She had been thorough, and her shaving skills had been exceptional. Not a drop of blood spilled. Although his face was slightly chillier, it was a price he was willing to pay. He never liked shaving since he came to this place, as it was a difficult envious without the assistance of a mirror.
He patiently waited for Willow's arrival, she was still busy bathing while he lay in their bedroll. A few minutes passed, and she arrived looking tangibly happier. She snuggled into the bed with him, and ran her hands across his chin, inspecting her handiwork.
"Perfect," she concluded.
The casual contact between them had become increasingly comfortable and common place, they were sharing a bed after all, and this caused Wilson to consider several things as he fell asleep. Willow fell asleep slightly later, still happily inspecting the clean profile of Wilson's face. She was definitely going to find a way to force him to shave again when his beard reappeared.
No insulation nonsense, she was his insulation, and that was good enough.
Took longer than anticipated, but I'm relatively satisfied with it. I hope that it isn't coming off as too honeyed and sweet, the relationship between the duo I mean. I don't want to sound too ridiculous and I'm trying to build it up as naturally as I can. And I hope the pacing isn't too slow either, I don't want to make it sound like filler.
Anyway! To the anonymous user who asked my thoughts on the multiplayer mode for Don't Starve. First off, wow! I didn't expect that! The fact that they're adding multiplayer I mean. But I actually think it would make this game a great deal more fun - dividing tasks between you and your friends, adventuring together, taking down bosses together etc.
Well, that's if they don't just decide to troll you and torch your entire base or something.
But it would mean a lot of cool synergies between the different characters, which could be really cool. They'd have to rebalance quite a few things, but it is definitely doable and I look forward to it, somewhat. None of my personal friends play it unfortunately.
Kudos to all those who take the time to review, I appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story.
