Annie Cresta | Victor of the 70th Hunger Games (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
treadswater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2019-01-26 02:43 pm
treadswater) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2019-01-26 02:43 pm
[Mingle] One-Man-Show
WHO: Annie Cresta
WHERE: The Inn, South and North Villages, and surrounds
WHEN: 25th January - ?
OPEN TO: All OMS opted-out characters
WARNINGS: Warnings in subject lines as needed
NOTES: Feel free to make your own OTAs or closed threads dealing with the plot here!
WHERE: The Inn, South and North Villages, and surrounds
WHEN: 25th January - ?
OPEN TO: All OMS opted-out characters
WARNINGS: Warnings in subject lines as needed
NOTES: Feel free to make your own OTAs or closed threads dealing with the plot here!
While it seems as if most of the villagers have vanished off to the shrine, there are still those left behind. Not only the villagers, but also the animals - the pets, companions, farm animals, and animals starting to be tamed. They still need care and attention, no matter what shenanigans the Observers are up to. Not to mention, the other chores and duties. Not to mention, dealing with the sudden vanishing of so many people.
It takes at least three days for the first of the vanished villagers to return: there's a lot to do in the meantime.
no subject
The brightness fades when Brigitte waves a hand at the nearly empty inn. As far as Maine's concerned, that gesture sums things up just fine. He grunts in agreement — to her frustration, not the treatment of this as something 'normal' — and folds his arms as well, unintentionally mirroring Brigitte's body language. Then he scans the few remaining occupants again, dark brows drawn together in a frown.
That so many people could be "magically" moved is concerning, to say the least. He wonders how it was done. Wonders how it can be prevented.
Turning his gaze to Wash, Maine raises his eyebrows in a silent question: "thoughts?"
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And now people are asking for his thoughts like he actually know what he's doing. Like he hasn't been lone-wolfing it up for the past few years, trusting only himself.
"We need to make sure stuff still works. Like it or not, we're still stuck here, and we're gonna need whatever's left to keep us alive through winter. If we get that sorted, then we can think about rescues or... whatever."
no subject
But Wash’s point is pragmatic, too, and therefore gives her something to concentrate on. Keeps her centered. Brigitte gives a firm nod, agreeing with him: “Then we need hunters for food. Are you guys any good at that? Someone will have to cook at the inn, too, but that’s easier.” The communal meals had been such a steadily reliable thing; she’s kicking herself now for having taken them for granted. “Foggy’s still here and he can butcher the meat. We might have a fisher and farmer left. I can be a medic, if anyone gets injured and we don’t have anyone better.”
She’s mentally running through the list of people she knows and recognises in the village. There’s some unfamiliar faces, though, and she’ll have to remedy that. Brigitte draws in a deep breath to steady herself. “At least nothing’s actively attacking us or anything, I guess?” It’s meant to be a wistful joke, a pick-me-up — but after a pause, she raps her knuckles on the nearest heavy Edwardian tabletop. Touch wood. Just in case.
They’re not village leaders, but they can at least focus on the problem of food. It breaks the overwhelming shitshow down into one solvable problem to start with.
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The bonds of war, indeed.
Awkward as Wash may feel in being asked for his opinion, Maine's grateful when his friend gives it. It's not something that the big man had considered. Judging by the way Brigitte jumps on the idea, it's a good plan. She runs with it, breaking down what needs to happen in a way that has Maine wondering if she's done something similar before — right up until she says that she can act as a medic.
Of course she's done something like this. It's triage.
"Can cook," Maine says. It won't be anything adventurous, but it'll be edible. Something he learned to do out of necessity rather than for pleasure; a man his size can't depend on others for food all the time. "Kill," he adds. Tracking things is still hit-or-miss (mostly miss), but he's good at killing.
At Brigitte's joke, Maine glances toward the front door. Considers barricading it. Weighs the advantages of doing so against the work involved in removing the barricade every time a non-hostile needs to enter or exit.
After a pause (during which Brigitte knocks on wood), he settles on suggesting, "Lookouts."
no subject
He looks back at Brigitte. "We're good at surviving. Not necessarily at living well." And he's not actually sure how Maine survived as the Meta for so long. The AIs must have fed him but... he needs to not think about that.
He's pretty impressed with how Brigitte is handling this. She has a good run down of who can do what. He appreciates that. They need level headed people. "It might not be a bad idea to have a watch set. It might even be a good idea to get everyone into the Inn and adjoining buildings. We don't know if there is an attack coming but keeping everyone together lowers the chances of people being caught out."
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The village had been so stable until now. Brigitte is vaguely irritated with herself for having let her guard drop, for having settled so quickly into a routine and trusting it would stay the same -- but she pushes all that down. For later. "The rooftop is accessible and Tony's built a few watchtowers, so there is that, for lookouts. We can probably find binoculars somewhere in the communal stores."
She's been all stiff angles like a cat with its fur on end, but the more they talk, the more she settles. Having a plan is so much better than spinning free-wheeling and untethered. So after a beat, Brigitte loosens her crossed arms to scrub at her face, and wearily admits, "I'm glad you're both here. Scientists are useful, but times like this, I want a soldier around."
y'all!! i thought i tagged this already! (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ i'm sorry!
At least he can trust two of those faces, now. Whatever's going on, he's grateful that Wash and Brigitte weren't swept away with all the others.
Maine nods in agreement with Wash; the two of them can survive. Sheer stubbornness could keep them going even if food failed. The two of them wouldn't have made it to the top of Project Freelancer's leaderboard if they were easy to kill.
When Brigitte's voice wavers and she rubs at her face, however, Maine presses his lips together. That's not good. He gets it, he thinks — it looks like relief — but it's not good that she's already feeling strained.
So, seeking to reassure her, Maine reaches out with the intention of patting her firmly (though not too hard) on the shoulder. He considers himself pretty shitty at offering comfort, especially since Wash damn near recoiled from him a few weeks ago. But he likes Brigitte, and they need her at her best. Therefore, he's making an attempt.
Re: y'all!! i thought i tagged this already! (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ i'm sorry!
At least Maine is here. And Brigitte seems trustworthy. He's willing to trust Maine's judgement on this. And Maine obviously trusts her more than a little. Interesting. He doesn't usually take to people that quickly.
"I understand that. No-one else quite gets being pragmatic in the face of potential death in the same way."
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It's not mocking; her voice is warm when she adds, "You just remind me of someone back home." She still remembers her teen years when some of the Overwatch agents came round for dinner, or her poring through pictures of the organisation in their youth. Wash reminds her a bit of a weary version of a young Commander Morrison, blond and blue-eyed and square-jawed.
Then she glances around. A few more villagers are starting to drift in, following the general call for people to gather in the inn. Some have been familiar faces, but not any that she knows especially well. It's odd to realise, but she's probably best-situated right where she is.
"Okay. So! I'll see if I can talk to Foggy about butchery later, and in the meantime -- want to start that watch shift?" She highly suspected no one else had gotten on that particular task yet. "No time like the present."
no subject
Good thing Maine has Wash to watch his back. Not that Brigitte is a devil on anyone's shoulder.
The big man watches Wash and Brigitte speak, pleased when they seem to be getting along. Maybe Brigitte will tell Wash about the armor she makes back home. Not now, perhaps, but at some point. Maine thinks it's pretty fucking awesome; he'd like it if Wash knew about it, too.
He's less enthused when Brigitte suggests they take watch. It's necessary, he knows, but the watchtowers are ... well, towers. Not tall ones — certainly not one hundred and ten story buildings — but still taller than anything Maine's climbed since his arrival.
At least there's no risk of getting kicked off the tower this time. Especially if he stays away from the edge, which he fully intends to do.
So, after a near-imperceptible pause, Maine nods in agreement. Might as well get to work.
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He pats Maine on the shoulder, and bites his lip when he spots his expression. It's not obvious to anyone to but Wash most likely, but he knows Maine too well by now.
"Come on big guy. Let's get to work. At least Carolina isn't here to go jumping off the towers."
And with that, he starts heading for the door.