[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Town Hall & Inn
WHEN: 6 September 2018, Evening
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Warn on your threads, please. PTSD is probably a given.
NOTES: Support group mingle! If your character needs some support after the latest meta plot or just generally, send them on over to Town Hall. Also, feel free to do top levels having to do with signing up for a tube monitoring shift. Please let me know if you want a Mark thread, I have notifs off for the post.

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So, I have been down to what we all seem to be collectively calling the Bunker. It is... something, to say the least.

For some people it feels like hope and for others despair, and I can honestly see both sides of it. Some people need to feel like they have some control, even if it's illusory — Having a puzzle to possibly solve makes them feel less adrift. For others, it's too much reality, or the perception of, anyway. I can't say I'm personally convinced by any of it.

See, I've been here since the start of whatever this is, with a group that's almost entirely gone now. It's been five months since we were birthed into this expanded world, and I don't know if it's any more real than the last. That isn't me putting on a tin foil hat, that's just respecting the environment. Mars was the same way: You do what you need to do to eke out a life, to survive or even thrive, but it's dangerous to think you have any real control. Everything can go to shit in the blink of eye, and then you're tumbling around in an airlock while your entire food supply is turned to dust.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying people should stop hoping to get home, stop trying to figure it all out. I'm just saying we might all be a little easier mentally if we could express how scary it is to know, deep down, that the rug can be pulled out from under us at any moment... And then to accept that feeling that way is okay.

With that in mind, after a little meditating during my daily work in the fields, I put up two notices on the blackboard in the South Village inn:

Volunteers to monitor the bunker tubes for new arrivals, please sign up for a shift on the paper on the bar.

That's one thing we can do, at least. Just the illusion of control, but still important to some people, and definitely helpful for anybody new.

Below that:

Support Group Tonight
Town Hall - 7:00 PM
Everyone Welcome

I don't know how many people will actually show — We've got a surprisingly stubborn, resilient group, in my experience. But even if it helps just one person, it's worth doing.

Comments

[cinere]

It was a new world, and he hadn't even decided yet if he would be staying at the inn or going off on his own. Yet, he was looking for ways to be useful at least. Better than just going off and locking himself away.

"I can cook pretty well, you have to be able to cook in my line of work or you may starve. Cleaning I'm not great at, pretty much the same with the rest but, I am a quick learner. Show me something once and I can do it. " He spoke very sure of himself.

[oorah]

Here it goes. His annoying propensity towards helping people he doesn't even know.

"I'll teach you." Hook, line, sinker. Fuck.

[cinere]

Frank was a good man, and Asch actually looked surpised, his green eyes a little wide as be blinked it away.

"Thank you." he replied a touch unsure, like he's not used to saying the words. "I wont get in the way," He added quickly. "I'm Asch." He had signed the sign in book for the bunker watch, as Asch the Bloody, but otherwise so far hadn't spoke his title allowed.

[oorah]

He nods once, it's all he can really do. Whether Asch gets in the way or not, it's Frank who fucked up.

"Frank."

[cinere]

Asch went back to painting quietly, went back to moving the brush. "Is there a leader for this village?" He asked after a few minutes.

[oorah]

His least favorite question, but at least it's easier to answer than it had been in Reims. No Constance, no Mayor Hotdog. Just a bunch of unseen assholes and their kidnapping victims. "Nope."

[cinere]

"Lovely." He grumbled in return but left it at that to quietly do his task.