sixthiterationlogs | A whiskey bottle comforts me and tells me not to cry

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A whiskey bottle comforts me and tells me not to cry

WHO: Joshua Faraday
WHERE: Fountain. North Village. South Village Inn
WHEN: Middle of November
OPEN TO: Vasquez, All
WARNINGS: Will update if needed

Arrival

Last he'd known was a comfortable bed, a full belly, and a lot of nightmarish thoughts of how he and the others might die the next day. Somehow finding himself drowning rather than waking up to die is far more fear inducing.

Dragging himself out of the water and onto a bench, he lay down there in the sun for a bit, trying to dry off and buy himself time not to think about this. Whatever this is. Nothing looks right. His clothes aren't right. Hell, for all he knows this is Hell and he never made it out of Rose Creek except in a shallow hole. However it happened, he's not ready to think about it.

Also to not think about the pain he's got in his gut, his skin feeling tight and his head pounding. Drowning will do that to a man. So will being a mostly functioning alcoholic without a drink and with your body having a fit that you're running on empty.

So he lay there under the sun, not caring it is cold on his wet skin and clothes and pretends none of this is happening while he tries to clear his head.

The Inn

Finding Vasquez after Joshua gave up on ignoring how much like shit he feels hadn't done much to help in so many ways. He knows things got bad. Like he's been in a coma bad or the like. He's gotten some whiskey though, and he's been nursing the bottle for a few days to try and not get back to feeling like he did when he arrived.

Not that things are much better. Between Vasquez's attitude, the revelations that were made, and the weirdo who apparently wore a fur coat for everything - maybe even sleeping - and he just needs time to think.

So he makes the hike down to the Inn every few days, getting a meal and trying to make sense of his place and all that he seems to have lost. At least now he has a white linen shirt to wear and so he's only got on the yellow pants with the shoes they gave him. It all feels weird, but the food is familiar enough so least there's that.

He's curious about others though, settling down at tables where others are and giving them a minute or two before asking about where they came from, what they do here, or what happened to them before they got stuck here.

The House - Locked to Vasquez

It's been a few days and Joshua is still trying to work this out. He's not sure what to think about Vasquez and this Booboo fellow or whatever the hell his name is. He's not sure how to handle that Vasquez is being with others. It's all so different than what he's familiar with, especially since even having feelings like that he hasn't let them so because it's wrong and screwing that up could have caused a lot of shit in a war they had started.

Jack had been a bear in a human suit, but Joshua is pretty sure their roommate is definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing, so he's glad when he wakes up and he's apparently gone and out.

Sitting on the front porch in the chill air, sipping a bit off the little bit of whiskey he has left in the bottle and trying to not think while waiting for Vasquez to get up.

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"Poor me," is joyfully agreed upon, even though he's stupidly fond of having Faraday around. Honestly, it's possibly the best thing that could have happened to him, not that he's going to tell him right to his face.

Why give him a reason to let his ego swell? "We're old, to them. Ancient cowboys," he shares with a derisive snort, gnawing on his bread in between words, heart pounding with relief to hear there hasn't been one, because he's not sure he could hide the jealousy so well.

And if he ever did tell him that to his face, at least right now, it's going to leave him expecting the worst. Maybe it might seem fine later, after they've had some time. If Vasquez said it now, Joshua would probably walk out, laughing. Nothing they're sharing now would make him think Vasquez truly believed that.

"How are we ancient when it's right in the middle of our lives?" Or the very last day of his, but same thing right?

"Because other people here are from the future and our time is very, very far," is Vasquez's sad revelation in this case, giving Faraday a shrug of his shoulders, finishing with his seconds and putting his plate aside, his stomach no longer craving food even though he's not actually full.

He reaches for his hat to settle it onto his head, along with a coat to keep warm (though not Bobo's coat, just his usual peacoat). "Are you going anywhere today? Maybe I could join you?"

"Still not the past for us," he grumps, face screwing up about that. So much he has to get used to and that is only a small part of it.

All of it is weird, and strange, and he has no idea what to make of so much of it. The people. The clothing. What he's lost and missed. More than that, he's not really sure he's ready to ask.

"Just gonna look around, but you're welcome to come with. Someone said something about clothing and I need to find something that suits."

"No, it's all present," he agrees, and given the technology and environment, they're closer to their time than anyone else's, though he misses the dry heat of Colorado and California, or even the humidity of Texas. This cold is terrible for his bones and he yanks at a sweater to pull it on again.

"Clothes that aren't mine," he points out, like a reminder that he's still expecting his shirt back from Faraday.

"What clothes that are yours?" Asking it with a smirk as he runs his hand over the shirt he's taken from Vasquez, and more than amused. "But that's a stop," he admits, giving a nod. "Get a look at that jail they're using for a stable," he says, heading for the porch.

"You done that up here?"

Vasquez cocks his head to one side, a completely unimpressed look on his face given Faraday's comment about his clothes. "I'm going to want that back," he insists, not joking around anymore. He only has two actually nice shirts (three or four if you count the more modern wear), and he doesn't want to lose it.

"Done what?" he asks, absently, reaching for his coat, because he wants to go with Faraday, and hasn't been paying enough attention, too busy thinking about how his clothes are going to smell of Faraday when he gets them back.

"I'm aware. You'll get it back soon as I've got something else," he says, long and drawn out tones as if he is soooo put upon in having to give back what isn't his. "Why heading down to look at what I can scrounge. I kind of like those modern clothes I see some wear. Like the dungarees that Bobo wears," he says having noticed that at the very least. "Don't get the coat, but get the pants."

"Turned one of the main buildings up here into a barn. I've heard of some of the animals, and wouldn't mind having some if we're homesteading here."

And so far it looks like it, which means he's going to have to do what he can to have a normal life here. Based on what a normal life is in their world and to them.

Vasquez snorts and gives Faraday an amused look, thinking that he'd look very good in those things. Grabbing some of the food to go (it'll just go bad if he leaves it there), he nods for Faraday to go with him. They'll be walking for a while, so he also grabs a handful of cigarettes and matches for his pocket.

"What kind of animals?" he asks, because he's been wanting a kirin, though he also thinks that maybe just helping Cael will be good enough. "Or do you want one of the fucking strange ones?"

He stood there, holding the door for Vasquez, though he can't help but to laugh at that. "Is there an animal here that's not fucking strange? Because all of the ones I've seen are weird." Though he considers that.

"There's some purple sheep I've seen in the south. Weird looking, and someone called them allpacas but they could be useful. Some said they can be milked even. Might see where you can get some chicken and such. Animals we can use."

"Some people have normal dogs, cats," Vasquez says, but for the most part, all the animals are very strange. He ducks forward to let himself through the door, but his eyes are always back on Faraday. He's always carefully watching, attentive, and at some point, he thinks Faraday is going to notice.

"What, you want to keep a herd of sheep? I'm not shearing them all alone," he warns, because if Faraday thinks that he's going to have that shoved on him, he is very mistaken.

"Some people. Most... there's things that look like they come out of storybooks," he points out, not knowing that soon enough they'll have one.

The air is crisp, clean, and it's something he appreciates, pausing to stretch and yawn, enjoying how it feels.

"What I want," he manages, not all of it before he's done yawning. "Is to know we can handle what we need up here by ourselves. If we've got sheep, then we've got milk and butter and cheese. We get chickens? More eggs. I like that idea."

Vasquez settles his hat on his head, eyeing Faraday with some suspicion as they walk. "And am I going to be the only one who ends up taking care of these animals? Or is it me and Bobo with no help from you, because if that's the case, I'm not so sure that I'm going to help."

Fresh eggs and a sheep for milk and cheese and butter is incredibly tempting, though. If they have enough chickens, they can even slaughter one every once in a while for food.

He looks over at him, rolling his eyes as he just kind of stares at him a minute. "Where in any of this conversation did I say anything about you doing anything?" Because he's really not sure.

"What? You think I came out of my momma playing cards? I've worked on farms, and I've worked hard. Figured one day I'd end up with a place of my own somewhere when I got too old for cards and whiskey and all. I gotta live here, least I'm gonna do is homestead it the way I want."

Shaking his head as he walks, looking to Vasquez again. "And your friend would kill them wouldn't he? Seems like he's not much of a farmhand."

"What, you think you're going to collect animals and not let me help? Cabron, this is literally what I did before I was an outlaw," he reminds him, pointedly, or did he think that being a vaquero was just a lie he took on for no reason at all.

Huffing in disbelief, he shakes his head and keeps following along. "You're not homesteading without me," he says defensively. "I want as much right to any food you'll get. Besides," he adds, "you don't have to worry about Bobo. I'll just ask him nicely not to touch them."

Joshua keeps looking at Vasquez and then away, utterly confused. "Wait. First you sound pissed like I'm going to make you do everything. Now I tell you I didn't mean you had to do anything, you're all angry about that too. What in the hell is wrong?"

Because he's really confused.

"All I know is I'm not sitting around here staring at the four walls like some prisoner. They want to trap me here, I'm doing what I know. Besides, what makes you think I would get food and not share it with you?"

He's an asshole but he's not that cruel.

"And thanks for answering that question," he says, making a face. "Everyone seems to settle down south though. Means there's a lot of empty buildings around here we can use for a barn."

What's wrong with him? The dead man that he had a sort of crush on came back to life and turned up right in front of his face. Vasquez hasn't seen him in so long that he's stuck between teasing to keep him at arm's length, then pulling him back in so he doesn't go too far away.

"We could take anything we wanted," he agrees, though really, between the both of them, he doubts they'd be stopped by anyone if they tried to take over something. "What do you say? You, me, we find a barn, some animals, make it so we don't really need anyone else?"

Being told it's been a year is one thing but facing it as a reality is a lot harder than it seems. For him it's someone that he was on decent times with and now it's all tense, and he can justify why but can't work it out emotionally.

"No reason to leave it all in empty houses," he points out, shrugging. "We need animals that are useful. Chickens. Anything with milk. Meat animals."

"Meat animals," he echoes, giving Faraday a look like he can't believe the words that just came out of his mouth. "And English is supposed to be my second language, what's your first, guerito?" he can't help the smarmy grin and the tease, probably he should know better, but he just missed teasing him so very much.

"Shut up," he says, rolling his eyes and starting to walk for the south village once more. "I would say cattle and pigs, but who the hell knows what they even have here. Purple sheep. Weird horse deer things with horns. Don't get me started on those useless weird dogs that girl tried to get me to take," he says, nose wrinkling and making a face. It was cute enough but what good would it do?

"Not pets or mounts. Something we can fatten up and get your boyfriend to slaughter for us." Because why do it when he can get the weird fellow to do it?

Vasquez does shut up, but he's laughing fondly as he follows Faraday, because 'meal animals' is a good laugh that'll last him for a while. His smile is nothing but warmth, even though he rolls his eyes, picking up a rock to pelt at Faraday.

"Guerito, he's not my boyfriend, stop calling him that," he complains, because the only man he's ever though about having like that is currently acting like a jealous asshole.

"Whatever he is," he says, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "Call him whatever you want, but I'm not using that ridiculous name. Even I know it's a dumb name," he says as if that makes a difference.

He pauses, glancing slyly over at Vasquez. "That why you don't tell no one your name? It's something stupid?"

Vasquez snorts and gives Faraday a long look, trying to figure out if he's being genuine in being so stupid about this. "I know one thing," he says, taking longer strides so he's at equal pace with Faraday so he can lean in with a smirk, "It's not stupider sounding than Joshua Faraday."

He claps his shoulder and lengthens his strides so he can take over, not intending to give up his name, not just yet.

"That name is classic," he snorts, giving Vasquez a look. Though it's obvious he's trying to keep a straight face. "But I get it. It's hard when your parents stick you with something bad. It's okay. Promise, I won't make fun of you when you tell me," he says, sounding comforting as if he isn't trying to needle him more.

He pauses, thinking about something else. "You ever try growing tobacco? Here or back home?"

He shakes his head, because he never really had the patience or the time to do it. When he'd been working on the ranch, the owners would never want to give up the land for their vaqueros to grow it and here, there's never been a point when he gets it in handy little boxes.

"I promise, my name is beautiful," he says, to distract from the other question while he thinks. "Why? You have some plants we can start and a place to do it?"

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