Transcript
A (0:00)
Hi there, it's Claire. If you're hearing me, that means you're listening to the free preview of one of our Patreon episodes. We switch off every week between free and Patreon exclusive episodes. So if you'd like to hear the rest of this conversation, head over to patreon.com thisguysucked and join our honorary haters club. Hey, gang. I know you don't normally hear from me in this part of the episode, but this one bears a little explanation. A few months ago, I made something very unhinged for the multicrew drive. It's this thing that Multitude does where all of the hosts get to make fun weird one off shows that they otherwise wouldn't normally get to make. I came to the powers that be at Multitude and said, oh boy, have I got the show pitch for you. And for some reason, they let me do it. And coincidentally, the insanity of the holidays this year left a little gap in our recording and release schedule. Rather than taking a week off, I decided it was time to give you all a very strange treat. So, my beloved Patreon members, enjoy the long rest.
B (1:09)
Welcome. Find a comfortable position. Let your body rest. Your shoulders can soften. Your eyelids can lower or close completely. The world can wait. Just breathe in and out. In and out. Let your jaw relax and loosen like a rusty helmet strap. Let your thoughts shuffle off like a sleepy camp mule. You are here now. You are safe. You are in a tent. Begin to imagine your surroundings. You feel a canvas ceiling above you. It billows gently, whispering in the wind. The faintest shafts of dawn light slip through seams in the fabric. You are lying on something. A thin straw mattress, slightly pokey, slightly damp. A gift from your quartermaster, who definitely hates you. You aren't sure why, but it doesn't really matter. Above and like on top of you, a gently matted blanket of hay. Probably some other fibers, too. That would make a lot more sense than just hay. From beyond the walls of the tent, you hear the scraping of metal and soft crackling of a fire. The muffled screams and moans from the surgeon's quarters. Pay them no mind. Their humors are probably just like, all out of whack. Instead, notice your breath. Inhale like you're savoring the smell of boiled turnips drifting through the camp. Exhale like you've just learned that boiled turnips are all you're eating for the next three months. I think I might have made you wait too long to exhale. So, like, inhale. Keep inhaling and exhaling as we go. Like, I mean, you probably know how to breathe, but just do that. There is a sense of stillness, the calm hush before morning. Somewhere outside, a horse whinnies. Somewhere further, a man coughs like he smoked too much pipe weed, although it might be that new plague you've been hearing about. Let your breath rise and fall with the rhythm of the wind in the canvas. You are calm. You are cozy. Your jerkin is too tight and pinches at the armpits.