sixthiterationlogs | Not exactly the best day ever

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Not exactly the best day ever

WHO: Sam Wilson
WHERE: #14 The Plaza (Inside and Outside)
WHEN: Sept 10
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Language--probably
STATUS: Open

The earthquakes had been building for some time, though Sam hadn't noticed them until the bigger ones had hit. He hadn't been overly concerned, since in the grand scheme of things they weren't too bad. He hadn't noticed any major damage and no injuries were sustained. So far it had just been another inconvenience to deal with on top of everything else.

It's because of this that, when Sam is briefly at home taking a much needed break, he doesn't get concerned when the shaking begins. However, as the shaking increases, Sam realizes this isn't the same magnitude as before. Sam acts fast as the shaking gets worse, rolling out of bed and heading for the doorway. That's supposed to be the safest place, right?

The shaking grows stronger and Sam braces himself, doing his best to protect against any debris, though so far his house is still standing. He thinks he heard something loud crack, but he can't check on it now. Not until it's over. There's the sound of shattering glass in a distant room and he thinks he hears something blow.

Thankfully, it isn't long. The shaking gets weaker and, slowly, comes to an end. Sam coughs as the dust from the ceiling and the rest of the room gets in his face and sinuses. He wipes his face and steps forward. It doesn't take much observation to show Sam that his house isn't in the best shape. He sees cracks in the wall now and, as he walks out into his living room he groans.

"That's not getting fixed any time soon," he says when he sees the tree branch that had crashed through his front window. There was glass everywhere and, because he'd taken his shoes off, he was going to have to be careful getting across the floor. He takes a careful step and winces when, as he steps down, he feels water starting to seep through the floor and into the carpet. His socks are now soaked, on top of everything else. "Son of a--are you kidding me right now?"

Sam makes his way to his front porch, the door falling off as he tries to open it. He sighs as he drops onto the front steps. So, he's got a cracked wall, broken window (possibly multiple windows if he checks the other rooms and walls for that matter), and a busted pipe somewhere that is now flooding his house. Oh, and his socks are wet and his door fell off its hinges. He's not sure why he's upset about this, it's not like he even spent that much time on the house. Maybe it's what it represents, another damn thing to fall apart around here.

"I hate this damn place," he grumbles, not sure what he wants to do now -- except maybe just sit for a bit. He'd hit a new low and he knew it. He also knew he couldn't afford to be in a funk right now, but you know what they say about misery.

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Cougar has seen him around since their earlier arrival, but it's not like Cougar is a social butterfly - that's more Jensen's area of expertise. Still, he knows each of the people and after a disaster like this, he wants to go around and do a check. When he sees him, his mind does a quick tally to say - Sam Wilson, alive - but before he moves on, he stops to give the structure behind him a long look.

Their house isn't in perfect shape, but nothing like this. "I don't think it's safe to stay," he warns, already worried about what structural walls might be crumbling right before their eyes.

"No shit," Sam replies, his tone a little biting.

He doesn't mean to though and immediately feels kinda of bad. Sam looks up and sees Cougar is looking over the structure. He must have been going around to check on others. Sam looks back over his own shoulder, sighing, "Sorry. It's not like I was attached. Just another damn thing going wrong around here."

Sam pushes himself off the porch and winces once his foot touches the ground. He looks down at his feet and sees that one of the socks is turning red. "Son of a bitch," he mutters. He flops back down, pulling his foot up onto his lap and yanking the sock off. The cut isn't bad, but it's clear that he hadn't been as careful of the broken glass as he'd thought. He examines his foot with a frown and then wipes the blood away. He waits and then sighs, "Good. Don't need stitches."

He remembers that Cougar is there and looks back up, "Hey. Wanna do me a favor and help me get my stuff out of there? At least keep an eye out and make sure the building is about to fall on me." Sam is already reaching for his boots that he keeps near the door. They'd managed to stay on the porch, even if they weren't exactly in the spot he'd left them.

If he needs stitches, Cougar would be willing to offer up his help. He's glad that there's no need for it, though, because there's plenty of other emergencies to worry about. He nods as soon as Sam starts to talk about helping him out, tugging his baseball cap tighter on his frizzing curls as he heads up the steps to offer his hands wherever they might be best needed.

"Let me know what you want me to lift," he agrees, seeing as he knows that brute strength and any kind of physical help is something that he could do. "Sure you don't need stitches?"

It really isn't that bad -- it's just that blood on white never looks good. Of course, they can get a better look at it after Sam's cleared his house of his meager belongings. Luckily, there won't be a lot to salvage. It's true, they could probably scavenge for more -- but Sam's mostly concerned about going back in for his bag and his mysterious box that had arrived a month ago. He'd already opened it of course, but he hadn't felt like he should dispose of the box since that could be handy.

"Pretty sure. I'll check it more thoroughly later, but it didn't look deep," Sam says as he moves towards the door with purpose. He steps over the now broken door and feels the floor squish under his feet -- now soaking wet from the busted pipe. "I kept my stuff in one spot, mostly want your help if something starts falling apart in here--extra pair of eyes and all." It wasn't like there was a lot of furniture or anything to block pathways.

Cougar's got good eyes, so if that's what Sam's after, he's definitely come to the right person. He also could help with the stitches, but if Sam is insistent that he doesn't need them, then Cougar will also respect that. "Tell me what you need," he says, already slipping back into the frame of mind that follows orders without a second thought. For all his mental health issues, Cougar had been a good solider with his friends and the people he actually respected.

It's just that when he runs up against someone that doesn't have his respect, then he has a tendency to go against the grain and potentially become treasonous.

Sometimes.

Sam considers what he needs, doing his best to walk without hobbling towards the bedroom. There's definitely creaking that wasn't in the house before. His eyes are darting and watching for anything falling, but so far they're in the clear. "Okay, you take the kitchen -- there's some supplies in there that I think Miss Kate could use in the kitchen. I'll get my stuff in the bedroom, meet you back here."

Sam continues forward, every step making him nervous that the house is going to fall in on them, but so far it's mostly groaning and settling from the shaking. Sam wonders if there will be any aftershocks and decides to move faster -- cut on his foot be damned.

Cougar mobilizes quickly once he's been given his orders. He may not report to a commanding officer here, but he's a soldier through and through and when there's a task at hand, he moves. He's fast and quick, stripping his shirt off to use to carry supplies, clad only in a tank top. He collects anything that looks interesting and knots it up before slinging it over his shoulder.

Once he's outside, he gets as far from anything that might collapse as possible to set the supplies down, heading back inside to make sure that Sam is safe. "Sam!" he calls, searching for him. His mission isn't secure unless Sam is safe. "Squelch if you're okay!"

So far, so good. Sam can hear Cougar moving around in the kitchen. He keeps one ear listening for trouble, but mostly hones in on the bag he'd left in the bedroom. Despite having claimed a house, he hadn't really "moved in." Sam couldn't get settled in this place, despite being here for months, and he didn't want to unpack. This place was so unpredictable he wanted to be ready at all times. That was paying off now, honestly.

Sam grabbed the bag, looking around at the room one last time. He went over to his bed and snatched the blanket and pillow. Sam then turned to the drawers and pulled a few items that he'd stashed there to hide and shoved those in his bag. The room was depressingly bare and Sam turned to head back out. The water soaking the rugs and making loud squeling sounds as he moved across the floor. It was soaking into his feet and was very cold, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Cougar was calling for him outside and Sam looked up, shouting back, "I'm coming!" He glanced over his shoulder one last time at his house, but didn't linger for long because he felt the house shift under his weight. The movement startled him and he cursed. No time for weird sentiment, Sam adjusted his grip on the bag and got out of there.

The pain in his foot was forgotten momentarily as he moved to join Cougar on the lawn outside. The house shuddered again behind him and he could hear a few things crash, but he'd made it out in one piece. "Well that was close."

Cougar raises his brow and watches the house start to fall to pieces, much more casual than a person usually is when watching the kind of destruction as he is in front of him, but then, he's seen much worse. Cougar gestures back to the things he's managed to rescue from the house, but his attention is more on Sam.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "If you are bleeding, you should tell me," he warns, because he hates it when people hide their injuries and Cougar has to find out about them much later.

Sam swallowed. No sense putting it off.

"Might as well take a look at it. Pretty sure it's just an inconvenient cut from the glass though," he said. He decided from that point on he was never going barefoot around here again. There was just too much risk of infection and other unpleasant things.

Sam dropped onto the ground unceremoniously and pulled his sock off. He tried to get a look for himself, but it was on the bottom of his foot and he couldn't quite bend that way. He looked back up at Cougar, "Mind checking for me?"

Cougar gives a nod of his head, crouching down in order to inspect the foot with a critical eye. He gestures to it and then thinks better of doing this out in the open. "We should go somewhere clean. I will need to boil some water, then use my supplies," he says. "Can wrap it up." He doesn't want to see anyone fall ill thanks to infection, which is a worry around here.

"Can you walk?" he checks, because he can help him with that, too, but he has to be careful about hauling Sam around too much.

It makes sense. It's one thing to roll around back home trying to look at your foot because there was a hospital around the corner. They didn't have that luxury here and, in fact, Sam wasn't even sure they had real medical expertise anyway. He got back to his feet, "Sounds like a plan. I think I can walk on it, might just be a little slower cause I don't want to risk pushing any glass further in if there is glass still in the cut."

He grabbed his pack, dug out a clean pair of socks, and started by putting those on along with his shoes. "No sense making it worse," he muttered. He'd probably get some blood on these socks too, but after Cougar had mentioned the fact that he should be somewhere clean it seemed kind of silly NOT to take the precaution.

Cougar gives him a smirk and bends forward before giving his mid pack a pat. "Come on," he encourages. "You are much lighter than Jensen and I have carried him across deserts," he promises, thinking that carrying Sam in a piggyback carry won't be the most embarrassing thing he's had to endure and won't be, for some time.

"And then, no bleeding, less infection," he reasons.

Sam frowned. On the one hand it would be much more practical to be carried instead of hobbling. On the other hand, wasn't it bad enough that he'd lost a race and gotten taken down by a man the size of an ant and now he had to deal with this? Sam wasn't sure he could take much more of this.

But, then again, those last two things were (mostly) unknown here. He was injured so there was also that excuse. But he also wasn't sure he wanted Cougar having this over him--even if the man was playing it off like it wasn't a big deal because he'd done something similar with Jensen.

"How far are we going again?"

"Only until we can treat you without worrying about infection," Cougar promises, because the last thing he wants is for them to lose some of their population because of infection and stubbornness. He raises a brow at Sam to challenge him into telling Cougar why he isn't already there. "If not on the back, I will carry you fireman style," he warns, thinking that it's a little less dignified.

And he already knows that Sam will be more dignified than Jake, given that one of the last time he'd carried Jake, he'd been treated as his noble steed. Sometimes, Cougar thinks it's a miracle he hasn't shot the man.

Whether it's the arrangement that Cougar will only take him as far as necessary or the threat of being carried fireman style that gets him to concede is anyone's guess. However, Sam sighs heavily and with marked annoyance before moving over to Cougar. "Fine. Let's get this piggy back ride over with."

At least with this being a world without technology, he did not have to worry about incriminating pictures to document this. That would have been the worst, though Cougar didn't strike him as the kind of person to use this as a time for blackmail.

Besides, it was a small price to pay for not getting an infection and dying.

Cougar hikes himself back up like he's doing a squat and nothing else, hefting up Sam with ease despite how long it's been since he's gone to a proper gym. Lucky for him that this place has survival requirements that keep him decently in shape. He nods his head towards one of the houses he sees that's close enough to his for supplies, thinking that they can stop there. "Almost," he promises Sam, adjusting his hold a little.

He's not heavy, but it has been a while.

He does have to admit he's glad he didn't have to hobble all that way. Sam does his best to make this both not humiliating for him and easier on Cougar. He holds on like one does when going for a piggy back ride. He notices right away the house Cougar is making his way towards. He would say 'no rush' in reply, but he kind of does want Cougar to get there as soon as possible.

Cougar's fairly used to this much weight on his back from the case of his gun, though obviously it's not as heavy as Sam. If he were Jensen, he might crack wise about him needing to lose some weight, but those are the kinds of jokes that just get eyerolls from Cougar, so he stays quiet until he reaches his house, setting Sam down when they're on the porch.

"Medical equipment is inside," he indicates. "Sit," he says, gesturing to the stoop.

Sam's just grateful to be back down on the ground. He sighs with relief and decides he follow "orders" for now. Deciding to lighten the mood he even quips with a "Yes, sir." He would give a mock salute but decides that might be pushing it. He leans back against the railing on the porch and waits for medical treatment.

"What were you?" Cougar asks loudly as he gathers his things and heads back outside, arching a brow at Sam. "In the army, what rank were you?" The 'sir' has him curious now as to whether Sam would outrank him or not. He nods towards his foot and holds up the small amount of supplies he has, including the one roll of bandages. "If I give this to you, you need to boil it and return to me. It's the only one I have," he says.

He knows it's for situations like this, but he still wants it back. Cougar isn't that generous to just give it up.

"Airforce pararescueman, I was a master sergeant," he replies, wanting to correct the slip up of being army. Not that rivalries like that mattered here. Sam looks up at the sky waiting for Cougar to come back. He nods in appreciation of the supplies and the offer being extended to him.

"No problem, I can handle that," he said. He could understand wanting supplies so valuable returned to him.

Cougar bends down to start working on the problem at hand, shrugging a little. "Sergeant, Special Ops," he says in return, though in the Losers, position doesn't exactly matter so much. After all, Jensen had the biggest mouth and ran with his own plans and he was the lowest level. "Now," he says calmly. "Be still and quiet, and I will fix you. You will return this to me. Maybe someday, you return the favour."

The earthquake had been massive, and while Natasha is glad to see that most of the buildings survived, there's no point in fooling herself that they all did. Someone may have gotten hurt, and it might be someone she knows. Steve would never forgive her if she left Sam and Peggy on their own after something like this (the thought crosses her mind, however briefly, that he might not forgive her anyway, after everything), and as soon as she's able, Natasha's racing towards the houses, beelining for the nearest one showing any signs of major destruction.

She comes to a halt right at the stairs of Sam's porch, letting out a small sigh that he's upright, at least. No major injuries, then. She'll take anything she can get right now.

"How bad is it?"

Sam lets out a heavy sigh, looking up and trying to shake off his funk. No sense in mourning a house that wasn't even that lived in. "Broken windows, cracked walls and possibly the foundation. There's also some flooding going on in there." It's why is front porch has puddles and his own feet are soaking wet. Natasha might also notice a pair of pink-ish socks discarded next to him. "Also, I think I might have stepped in some glass on my way out, but I don't think the cut is that bad."

He looks over his shoulder at the house, "That was just what I saw when I was getting out--not sure what other damage there might be towards the back. Gotta go back in for some stuff though."

Sam then turns back to her, giving her a once over, "You okay?"

Houses can be fixed, even ones that have that much damage — she'll take him having a cut on his foot over a possible worst case scenario. She nods, briefly glancing from the socks to his feet and then back up to him.

"I'm fine. Let me help you, we should at least find you some shoes so something worse than a scratch doesn't happen to your feet."

She trots up to the house, puts her weight on the door frame before she steps inside. It feels like it'll hold, at least long enough for her to make her way through and try to find his shoes, and whatever else he might need.

"There are a lot of rooms at the inn," she calls out over her shoulder. Her steps in the house are careful — there's no telling if the floors are weak enough to not hold her weight, slight as she is. She's not in the mood to injure herself today.

Sam gestures with a tilt of his head towards the porch, "Leave my boots out here, usually over there. Earthquake might have moved them a bit. Mostly I'm going to need new socks." And a new place to stay, but hopefully he can salvage his supplies.

Sam shifts on the porch, moving to get back up on his feet, "Be careful in there. It's flooding already and I don't think it's very stable besides." He hops closer, he doesn't plan on going back in the house yet, but he can at least watch from the door way. "Yeah, I figured that'd be good for a bit. But I kinda like having my own place -- I spend enough time at the inn as it is."

She can find socks, too, if he needs them, and she steps through the growing water puddles towards what was probably his room. There's the sound of Natasha moving some debris, and then she's back, a little quicker this time, now that she's sure the floor will hold her weight (for now). She hands him the socks, glances back over her shoulder to the interior of his former house.

"Well," she says, glancing around to see what else they can salvage before turning back to him. "We should make sure there isn't any glass in your foot before we have you walk on it, regardless of where you're walking to. What else do you need from in there?"

"Yeah. Probably right. Last thin we need is an infection, right?" Especially since it's his foot. The place is bad enough without considering disease and illness. Sam considers her question, "I'll need my pack. Didn't really move into this house despite being here for a few months. I figured it'd be best to keep my supplies together in the bag I came with. It should be right there by the door though," he remarks, gesturing back to the interior of the house. At least that he had kept handy.

He accepts the socks, moving back to the edge of the porch and dropping back down into a seated position. Without much ceremony he pulls off the ruined pair and twists his foot to inspect it -- of course the lighting isn't that great and he's looking at his foot from an odd angle. But he doesn't see anything obvious.

Natasha pops back inside briefly to grab the bag and make one more scan to see if there's anything within reach that'd be useful. There's nothing that they can't retrieve later, when the house has either collapsed fully or they're sure it won't. Satisfied, Natasha leaves the house fully and drops the bag at Sam's side, sitting down at the other. She pats her thighs, and then motions to him.

"Let me."

Sam sighs, realizing he probably looks pretty ridiculous. Still, he complies with Natasha's request and offers her his foot. She'd be able to do more about it anyway and it wouldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as terrible yoga poses.

"I'm hoping it's not too bad," he says, sounding a little worried that it might be.

She's careful when she presses her fingers to the sole of his foot — she doesn't want to tickle him, just check the cut. But she doesn't see or feel any glass in it, and it doesn't look deep enough that it'll need stitches. If they had access to bandaids, she'd recommend that he put one on, but it's not going to kill him if it doesn't. She pats his shin with a smile, and releases his foot.

"I don't think we'll need to amputate," she says with a grin, leaning back on the steps. "It should heal on it's own fine. We could probably find something to make a temporary bandaid but I don't think it'll need it."

"Thanks Doc, your expert opinion means so much," he replies with his own grin to match. He is relieved that the wound is just as minor as he originally thought. There was a small part of him that had been paranoid it was worse of course. He sighed, leaning back, "Well, about the only thing I can think of is the rags and scraps of material that Miss Kate keeps a stock of. I used them for her injury awhile back...she has a whole basket full of the stuff. I'm sure she wouldn't mind or we can find some material scraps of our own."

Natasha snorts at his thank you, stretches out her legs and crosses her feet at the ankle and glances back at the ruined structure behind them while he speaks, turning her gaze to him after a moment.

"If you don't think it'll be a waste. It's a small cut, just keep an eye out for infection and keep your socks clean, so you shouldn't need it. Still," she says, trailing off a bit, turning her gaze to the horizon, a small frown crossing her features.

"A first aid kit wouldn't be a terrible idea in general. Glass in someone's foot is a best case scenario."

Sam decides sitting for a moment isn't a bad idea. He finally relaxes a little now that the crisis is mostly over. Sometimes it's important to appreciate a moment like this -- however brief and however ridiculous it might be to just sit on the ground after an earthquake and an injured foot.

"I think I can manage that," he finally says when he has Natasha's attention again. "Guess you could add that to the general wish list around here. But you're right...as far as I know Miss Kate's had the worst injury and I'm still not sure if she's fully recovered from that." Luckily he'd had a cursory knowledge of first aid to help her, but if it had been worst than that? He doesn't like to think about it, but what could they have done?

Thorfinn had headed for the woods after the shakes and speaking to his roommates, it was a little later when he made his way back to the village, following the river. He had a bit of torn sheet wrapped around his upper right arm from hitting some glass when the shaking started. His fists were slightly swollen and scrapped up from the reason he had headed into the woods. His temper had flared and it was just better to go work it out on his own in the best way he knew how. Even if his hands ached he knew nothing was broken.

He was turning up the way he used to use to return to Jo's old house when he saw Sam in his yard, stopping by the road he looked at the damage. Peggy's house didn't look much better either. "You okay?" He called out to the former neighbor he hadn't spoken to before. He had seen the man in passing but his English was still pretty bad, so it made him feel shy about talking to people that didn't already know.

Edited 2016-09-14 13:48 (UTC)

Sam straightened up, he'd been taking inventory of what he could salvage from his house. Well, old house now. He was going to have to find a new place to stay -- though probably for the meantime he could crash at the inn. His bag was a little heavier than usual with the items he had stashed in there, and now he was thinking about going back in one last time. It wasn't like he had any personal effects -- but there was always the chance he'd forgotten a tool or item that might be useful to grab before the building collapsed.

He'd had a few people stop by, but he actually wasn't prepared to see the blond viking. Sam knew very little about him, though if he remembered right his name was Thor or something similar. For a long time Sam had even thought he was mute until he'd heard him saying some things at one of Kate's dinners. So while he was surprised to see him, he was actually more surprised that the man was checking on him, since they hadn't even exchanged five words before now.

But, he also wasn't going to complain. This guy was around Jo a lot so he couldn't be too bad.

"Yeah. Just clearing out my house now that the Earthquake is forcing me to move." Sam noticed the sheet turned bandage, raising an eyebrow, "You look worse than I do. You okay?"

Throughout his life one thing had remained the same with the blond viking, he was always quiet. It got worse as he got older and his circumstances went from bad to worse. He had just never been great with people at least until he met some Christian's that really helped repaint his dark lonely view into something better.

In this strange place he found himself both embarrassed and lonely due to the language barrier, but with his English improving daily he was less scared to speak to people.

"Fenrir's shakes hurt many homes." he replied, he knew what earthquake meant, but he was thinking in terms to his religion more than science he didn't understand and likely never would. His accent heavy and thick with words that were still newly learned. He waved one of his hands with little concern for his own injuries. He was already covered in scars what were a few more? "Nothing bad. Need a hand?" The closer he came the easier it was see that despite being built he was a small man. Only five foot four.

Sam nodded. He hadn't gotten past his own house yet, but he could only imagine how some of the others had been impacted. He made a mental note to go check on people later. It was important to not let something like this get them down for too long.

"Not sure if there's much to salvage here honestly," Sam replied, glancing over his shoulder at the crumbling house that remained. Sam shook his head at the mess, although, looking at it and the small yet muscular guy gave him an idea. He raised an eyebrow, "But, it's probably time I check on the goat in the police station--make sure he isn't too spooked. How are you with farm animals?"

Thorfinn looked from the house, then back to Sam. Nodding, the man was likely right. It didn't look like it would be very safe to go into. Not that safety had ever stopped him in the past. At the question he offered a light smile nodded again.

"Good enough to get job done." He wasn't the best but he was far from the worst. He hadn't thought about putting the animals into one of the unused buildings, it was smart.

Sam wasn't exactly looking forward to checking on Berg. If he was upset about the earthquake, he could only imagine how the goat felt about it. Animals didn't like stuff like that, right? Sam wasn't sure what he was in for but he couldn't put it off. Leaving Berg upset wasn't going to help matters either.

"Let's go then," Sam finally said, gesturing for Thorfinn to follow him towards the station just across the road. He had figured they hadn't had much need for a police station, so he'd commandeered it a long time ago. The goat was a new addition--but it was somehow appropriate in Sam's head. Sam could hear panicked bleating even before he even made it inside. He pulled open the door to the station and scanned the room. The place was even dirtier than usual after the earthquake had shifted and thrown around several items. Thankfully, the cells had remained shut during the disaster, so Berg was still secure. However, the goat was also curled in a corner of the cell, making pathetic and scared sounds, trying to make himself as small as possible. He hadn't been able to run and Sam, immediately, felt bad for the goat.

"Man, I'm sorry Berg. If I'd known we'd be getting earthquakes I'd have figured out a better place to keep you," Sam said without thinking, forgetting for a moment he's with someone. He'd gotten in the habit of talking to the goat when he was here to feed or take care of him.

The way Animals can tell bad things were coming, the poor Goat was likely not in the best of spirits. Thorfinn was a little weary wondering exactly what he had offered himself to do. Not that he would take the offer back but he did worry as he followed along behind Sam.

Thorfinn stepped in behind Sam. "Strange barn... strong." he had no idea what a police station was, but he knew chains, but not iron bars. he did recognize the metal though idly wondering if it could be salvaged to be used in the smithy, but this was this man's place so it was out of the question. He moved towards the cell after Sam and shook his head. "Good place, in woods threes might have crushed him, houses are breaking and no real barns. This place good, maybe need more to feed Berg." he offered. "More hay to rest in." Thorfinn knelled by the bars and made a noise, clearly a whistle holding a hand down with a couple soft snaps of his fingers. "Vera logn, allt mun fara vel. Vandræðin eru liðin."

Edited 2016-10-07 01:41 (UTC)

"It's a police station," Sam explained, then realized that Thorfinn either didn't have the English word for this place or had never seen one. Sam was going to guess it was the latter and added, "It's a place where they usually put criminals, not goats. But the bars seemed kind of handy and no one was using this building for anything else." His house had also been conveniently located across the street which was why this place had been so ideal for storing Berg.

Sam nodded at Thorfinn's observations, "We seem to be amassing quite a live stock---it probably wouldn't hurt to invest in building a barn at some point. If we had the tools for it anyway." He supposed they could use a building as a foundation and not have to worry about building it from scratch persay. How big of a barn did one need for all this live stock was the other question. Sam had grown up in the area opposite of a farm. He was clueless when it came to stuff like this.

"Know where I can find some hey?" He asked. By this point, Berg was starting to calm a little -- Sam's voice was familiar to the creature and he had learned to trust him. The goat was also drawn to Thorfinn's snaps and whistles, bleating once before finally getting up to approach the cell and Thorfinn. Sam had his hand on the pen to open though he glanced at Thorfinn with uncertainty. What if the goat got upset and tried running at them? Sam really didn't have it in him to fight a goat (again) right now. "There you go buddy...it's all good now."

"Ahh!" He made a noise looking back with an understanding. "Police, like royal thengs! Hold the laws, I recall yes." But not from home, but from the other world he had been pulled to. A world with a lovely device that translated everything for him. No effort back when he was a young warrior pulled into a strange place, now that he was older and calmer and learned the suffering of people, now he had to work harder to understand what these worlds want from him. "I see, it will be good for Berg, cant escape." He spoke, shifting from his knees to sit on the ground.

"We could check the smithy, maybe hammer there. I have nails... Got a box not long ago." He had told no one, only Jo knew what came in his box, the belt around his middle over his tunic and the reason his stubble was less then it had been. His box had been helpful but he kept quiet for the most part over it. "Raising barn will take many's help, this building works best though, all could be brought and warm in winter." He admitted.

Looking back to Berg he held his scarred hands out making a softer whistle, he nodded. "If door to outside closed, open bars and let him out for now." So he couldn't escape outside, he kept his arms out as if a peaceful means of showing the animal he means no harm. "I will keep an eye out for hay while I am out hunting. I will bring for you."

Sam didn't know what royal thengs were, but the law part was correct so he let it slide. He was a little proud of himself that someone else saw merit in his idea of what to do with Berg. He couldn't explain why, but it felt like an accomplishment of some kind. He listened as Thorfin elaborated on his supplies and what they could do.

"I figured as much...we've had people volunteer to help before so it shouldn't be a problem now either," Sam explained, optimistic that they could do some good with a barn and get people to help with it too no less.

Sam looked over his shoulder to check the door, he was usually good at shutting it. It was as secure as it was going to be so Sam moved to the door and pulled the cell open so that the goat or Thorfinn could make their move.

"I appreciate it, if you find some any way."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not exactly the best day ever

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i apologize if this tag sucks -- but i felt bad not replying after so long

Re: i apologize if this tag sucks -- but i felt bad not replying after so long

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hover for translations

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