sixthiterationlogs | welcome to the end of eras ; ota

WHO: Steve Harrington and you~
WHERE: The Bunker, then the streets/inn
WHEN: September 10th onward
OPEN TO: One for arrival, OTA for after
WARNINGS: Language

1) arrival ; bunker tubes - one reply please

[And here he'd thought he might get a break from the weird stuff for a bit. After a particularly hellish day, and no that wasn't an understatement in the slightest, Steve had hoped to just fall into his bed and sleep for 14 hours and do, well, nothing for a day or two. He earned that, right?

Besides, his face fucking hurt and he knew he was going to look like a mess for a while. Better to suffer and heal where he didn't have to deal with the stares.

He got his long sleep, at least, but he hadn't expected to wake up soaking wet. Did he piss himself and fall out of bed? A quick survey brought relief because no he did neither of those things, but this sure felt really wrong?

He brings a hand to his head with a groan, finally trying to open up his eyes.]

What the hell?

2) arrival ; wandring around/inn - ota

[The rest of the morning is something of a blur of shuffling around in crappy green scrubs, disheveled hair, and a face full of cuts and bruises. His head hurt like it never had before and his brain wasn't properly processing things or something. Either shit had gotten even weirder, he was hallucinating from a concussion, or he was having a very realistic dream.

He's a sight walking down the street, taking in the environment and coming away with nothing helpful.

Why is this his life?

At least he finally manages to wander into the most obviously inhabited building, pushing open the front door and heading inside the inn. There's people around, and most of them don't look crazy or hostile, but at this point that's the lowest on his list of worries. He's thirsty, hungry and sore and anything that could alleviate any of those things was all he really cared about at that moment.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ the scrubs are always a dead giveaway that someone is new, especially since frank doesn't keep as close of tabs as he once did. that man still seems a world away, and according to some of the theories floating around after the bunker's discovery: he was. mayor hotdog is not frank castle, at least, not this version of him. and yet he has the bracelet from reims strapped around his wrist, denoting him as leader of a place that probably no longer exists, if it ever did. on the other wrist is a teal communicator, a few shades brighter and bluer than steve's, visible as he flips water goose eggs in the pan over one of the only electric stoves in the village.

there's a blocky gray pit bull waiting patiently by the table as frank stirs hash in another pan, folding in vegetables and cheese he'd harvested himself. not only did jogging really suck, but it made him like twice as hungry as usual. there's coffee, previously brewed, sitting off near the sink to cool that steve might smell first as he walks in. the man is large and imposing even with his back turned, long hair and beard visible past his bright teal hoodie.

he hears the boy the moment he steps in, but doesn't think much of it. aloe the pit bull growls lowly though and it's the only reason he looks up, quieting the dog with a raised hand. and sure enough, who should walk in but someone he knows, yet again. someone he already assumes won't know him. but if steve's here, does that mean so too is nancy? mike? it forms a lump in his throat just thinking about it. ]

Hungry? [ it's all he says before turning away and cracking two more eggs into the pan. since frank doesn't view steve as a threat, the dog is popping up off the ground to sniff him all over, intent on vetting him anyway. ]

[The smell of coffee and breakfast hits him fast and hard, the emptiness in his stomach making itself known in a hurry. He's quickly distracting by the very large man who is doing the cooking, combined with the very large dog that growls at him.

He freezes just inside the doorway. He's had enough with large dog-like creatures as of lately, though at least this one is an actual dog and not some monstrosity that's going to fold back its face to reveal rows and rows of teeth.

Small favors.

The questions draws his attention from the pit bull, and it seems genuine enough, especially since he's adding extra food to the pan.]

Starving, actually. [Oh, hello doggy. Steve puts a hand out so the dog can get to know him by smell, so to speak.] If that's okay.

[ aloe sniffs at the boy's hand and deals it a big lick. harmless, if wary of newcomers. probably from being abandoned, frank thinks. he just nods to steve's admittance and gestures for him to sit at the table. the second he does aloe will set his big block head on his knee and stare up at him expectantly. another minute and frank is setting a cup of coffee in front of him, then a bowl of stevia and a small container of green milk followed by a spoon. he does all of this soundlessly before turning back to the stove. ]

Thanks.

[He says it to the guy's back, but whatever.

Alright, coffee he can definitely get behind. He pours in a single spoonful of what he assumes is sugar, but something looks seriously off with that...milk? He'll just...skip that.

The sweetness takes the edge of the bitterness of the coffee, allowing him to get through it without making a face. It warms his insides and he sighs almost happily. After another sip from the mug, he looks over at his new friend, the local cook, while his free hand idly scratches behind the dog's ear.]

So, what's your name?

[ he knew it wasn't him, the steve he met in reims. but the confirmation still hurts even as he rushes to plate their food. he remembers signing to him H-O-T-D-O-G and the memory gives his heart a squeeze. ]

Frank.

[ it's a grunt, dropping steve's breakfast in front of him with a clang as he lets the plate slap the table before handing the boy a fork. he sits down at the other end of it with his food and coffee that he doesn't sugar or wait to cool down before taking a long sip. aloe abandons steve's side the moment frank sits, moving to watch the man who'd recently adopted him, his tail whipping back and forth like he knows if he's cute enough he'll get a scrap or two. ]

[He starts slightly as the plate hits the table in front of him, taking the fork about a half second later than he probably should have without it being awkward.]

Thanks.

[He's not sure how many times he's said that but it's probably been more the necessary. Whatever.]

Uh, I'm Steve.

[He sticks his fork into the eggs before putting it in his mouth. He has to force himself not to inhale the rest in two seconds because he didn't realize how hungry he was until decent food hit his tongue.]

[ the awkwardness doesn't seem to bother frank, nodding at the introduction even though he wants to tell him that he knows. all he wants is to ask if mike and nancy are okay, but it's stupid. they're not here and steve is. he starts in on his meal much more sedately, looking down into his plate even while listening to steve inhale his. ]

Remember to breathe, kid.

[ he says without looking up, tossing a piece of egg off his fork and into aloe's awaiting mouth. he knows he shouldn't spoil him by feeding him off the table, but maybe this once it won't hurt. ]

I can't remember the last time I even got to eat anything.

[It's been a rollercoaster the last couple of days.

He chews and swallows but makes a point not to take another bite until after he gets some words out this time.]

So how long have you been here?

Even more reason to slow down then.

[ he gives steve a weary look, but there's no heat behind it. ]

96 days.

[He just nods slowly before making a very obvious effort to chew slower. He even breathes between bites.

It helps that there's something in his stomach now.]

Shit, seriously? That's frickin' nuts.

Uh-huh.

[ sure is. frank takes another sip of coffee and shrugs a shoulder. ]

Really not even the tip of the iceberg.

[He pokes his fork into his eggs a couple times, pondering that.]

How crappy does it really get, then? I don't want to get totally blind-sided. I've had enough of that happening lately.

welcome to the end of eras ; ota

ota

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