sixthiterationlogs | dog days are only starting

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dog days are only starting

WHO: Vasquez
WHERE: South Village, River
WHEN: February 7
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: n/a

If anyone had seen Vasquez when he'd been a wolf, it's only poetic justice that all of this is happening to him now.

Where before, he'd been the one to roam wild, not he's the one running. He'd opened the box in the north village, but almost instantly, the dog had been spooked by the kirin and had taken off, running and yipping (and probably terrified down to his little bones). He'd had a terrible moment of debating whether he should go after it before deciding that there were too many cruel things living in the shadows and no animal should be left to that.

Of course, what he didn't count on was how much of a fool he was going to look chasing after it, whistling after an animal that didn't even have a name. It's a good looking animal, one that he's seen herd sheep before, but running away like this means now Vasquez is the shepherd. He's already run back to the south village from the north and he looks it, panting and coughing (he really wants a smoke, too, but it's not the time).

He sees his chance when the animal is lapping up water at the stream. Chest heaving, he begins to creep up on it, ready to take his chance. He hunches over and tries to get all six-foot-four of him as close to the ground as he can, advancing until he's nearly on his knees. He readies himself, like a coil, and waits to spring forward.

Of course, his little dog decides he's all done with drinking, bounding away with a yip, right as Vasquez goes face-down into the stream, muttering and cursing. Sitting back, he swipes at his face and spits to the side, cursing in Spanish as he glares at the dog.

"You know, I could feed you to the kirin," he warns, even as the animal comes licking his cheek, like he's rubbing Vasquez's face in his idiocy. "Or the boar. Or any of the other animals."

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Jogging had been the order of the day. No matter what this place was, no matter if he was in a serious existential crisis, and definitely no matter how cold it could be some days, nothing was going to get in the way of staying fit. Too many years in the military, he'd practically grown up there. How was he supposed to know how to do anything else?

So he'd been out jogging, and the second he heard that noise he just about stumbled to a stop.

North! There's a dog!

Like he could deny Theta the glee of seeing a dog in person. Centering on the sound and the subsequent splash, he found himself turning down toward the stream, and soon finds a lovely scene. Lord help him if he doesn't laugh.

"Cute puppy you have there. Does he have a name? Should probably look into getting a leash for him."

Vasquez isn't feeling so generous and pleased about the animal, glaring up at the man who seems to be so very enamoured with this dog. In time, once he gets some training, he thinks that he'll be much more pleased to have it to help tend to the kirin and the groffles and whatever other strange non-word animals they find.

Right now, though, he's glaring at the puppy as it tries to pull a plant up from the roots. "Right now, I'm thinking it will have a very rude name," he deadpans, pushing to his feet. He frowns, giving the other man a confused look. "Leash? Why?"

He's never seen a herding animal leashed up and chained before, because it would be cruel.

Wait, isn't that bad for a puppy?

"Dogs tend to get walked on leashes so they don't go running off. I mean, before you train them. But I guess that's a lot less important when there aren't cars or anything. They're also not supposed to eat plants. It can upset their stomachs."

He makes a small gesture as if to ask for permission before approaching, squatting down to offer out a hand to the pup. Come on, if he pets you, Theta would be the happiest boy ever.

Vasquez isn't sure that he knows any of this, maybe because a leash sounds like a strange thing. After all, if it gets eaten, it gets eaten, and if it causes chaos, he's already shown that he's not exactly going to stop that from happening.

Maybe Bobo will know more about this?

"You have a dog, back home?" he asks, shaking off the last of the water like he's the animal, not wanting to let it best him, but knowing maybe he has to admit defeat.

"No, but Theta's done a lot of research on it, for when we get a dog," North smiled as he shifted and fully sat down. Sure, the ground was very cold, but it was something to be done, because it might make him more approachable to the little beast. He was just too tall.

Oh it's so pretty, North. It's just the cutest.

Relax, kiddo. I am sure the pup will come closer, North assured the AI as he looked back up to Vasquez.

"Not familiar with dogs?"

There are sometimes words in English that still elude Vasquez and this man has stumbled onto one of them. "Theta?" he echoes, not so sure what that one means, seeing as he's learned it from his time in the late 19th century, and that one never popped up.

"We had a few on the farms I worked," he admits with a shrug. "I figured this is why I have one now, since we're starting up a barn in the north village. I could use the help with the kirin, if this one is good, it can do it."

"Theta's a bit much to explain," North admits as the puppy approaches. Perfect. Within moments he's petting the thing and scratching behind the ears. And yes, all that joy isn't even his own. Theta's is contagious.

"Not sure what a kirin is, but this looks more like a sheep dog breed. It's meant for herding. Of course that requires some training."

Would Vasquez even know how to manage that? Well, it wasn't like North was much better for it. Theta had a lot of thoughts, but he'd spent a lot of down time on what he would do if he had a dog.

"They're like horses, sort of. I don't know how much they spook, so having something to corral them will be good, until they can find something more like cattle. They have milk, even if it's green, and Vasquez wants to get his hands on whatever animal does that.

"Training, I can do," he guarantees. He has a lasso, so maybe that can be like a leash? He's not so sure how this all works, but he thinks maybe he can figure it out. He lifts that up now, giving a nod to it. "Normally, I rustle with this, but it could work with a dog."

Green milk? That can't be healthy. But he'd live with what he did to survive. But it's a bit weird, isn't it? Well, this place was really weird, so it didn't much matter. He'd take it in stride and make sure other people taste it first.

A lasso... oh...

He's a cowboy! Theta cheered, and his joy had North grinning.

"Rustle? Sounds like a cowboy term," North beamed up at him as he played with the puppy's ears.

Why does everyone who meets him want him to be a cowboy?

"Vaquero," he says, showing off his outfit. The lasso is only part of it, the rest of it covered a little with a jacket, but he's still got his pants, spurs, and hat on. "I know it's a different language, but to me, it makes a difference," he insists, before the man can say that it's the same.

"I'm Vasquez," he introduces himself. "You never knew a cowboy?"

"Cowboys have been sorta... irrelevant for a long time," North admitted as he finally scooped the puppy into his arms and rose to his feet. See, dogs are easy enough to manage. He's careful to keep a hand on the dog's backside to keep him stable. And yeah, the dog is happily licking his face now. Lovely.

It's because he likes us, Theta informs him, and North just hums over the thought.

"Spanish, right? Haven't heard it in a while. There were some people who spoke it back on my colony, and I am pretty sure Florida did too. You can call me North Dakota, by the way, or just North. Pleasure to meet you and this bundle of fur and love."

"I'm Mexican," he says, and he knows he's speaking Spanish, but he needs it clear that he's not American, not Spanish, he's Mexican and he's proud of it, no matter what the US tries to do to steal all the land from them.

It's disappointing to hear that cowboys aren't a thing anymore, but he supposes he can understand. "Does that mean no more cattle? Horses?" He feels like the two are tied together. If there are the animals, there should always be cowboys.

Mexican? The information doesn't sound unreasonable, but North really isn't up on Earth cultures or nations. Not really. Earth wasn't his home, after all.

"Frankly, I'm pretty sure it's mostly handled by machine now," he says thoughtfully. "But I've never been to a colony where it was really a thing. My world wasn't like that."

"World?" He makes a face, starting to get wary and confused about the whole thing. After all, he's from the past, he's not even used to some of the technology that people talk about using here, so why would he know anything about worlds.

"You mean, like this place? But not?" Let him get through the confusion and he'll eventually make some progress, but he's still working through it.

"I mean a different planet," North explains, but he knows that might not mean much. So he gestures skyward. "In my time, humans are out among the stars. Far among the stars. Spread out there among them, making their own lives in new ways."

Time, it sure seems to be a bit of an impact here, didn't it? North was more out of place trying to explain the world as he knew it than he was just being here. This he could adjust to. But figuring out how to explain himself was difficult.

He's never met any kind of alien before who comes from another planet and it's a strange thing. Vasquez squints at him like he expects to figure something out about him if he looks enough, but he just looks like another person.

"What time is that?" he wonders, seeing as Vasquez only really knows about his own time and they don't even have automobiles yet, so it's a big leap to think about that.

"The 2550s, but we've been in space for a while now," North says with a smile. "In fact, I didn't set foot on Earth for the future time until almost, what, five years ago."

It's a long time difference, and at this point the concept of a cowboy is more some sort of comment given to people who did crazy things in the marines or ODSTs.

It's almost a bit too much for Vasquez to cope with. He's from 1879, he's not so sure that he can imagine a future like that. He's not even sure he could picture 1979, even though that's much closer. Yet, here they all are together, no one special.

Reaching out for the dog, he's starting to understand the man's fascination. "So, no more cowboys?"

"Perhaps there are. Not on the planet where I was raised. Perhaps there are planets that survive where they are," North shrugged. He can't speak to the other colonies. Sure, he could recite lists of places that didn't exist anymore, but that didn't mean he knew their major exports or anything.

It's somewhat depressing to think of a world where they aren't any more cowboys, not at all. He'll just choose to pretend they all went somewhere, but he can already see how it would happen. More men like Bogue could wipe them out and then how would they be replaced.

"So who farms and takes care of your livestock where you come from?" he asks, feeling like that's the next most logical question.

"Machinery," North shrugged. AIs managed whole farming systems. It was pretty effective. Humans were needed for repairs and management, but mostly it was a mechanical process at this point. Which was something that North just took for granted.

Granted, it's getting harder, isn't it? More of the core worlds having to pull their own weight for that issue. Too many places destroyed at this point. Which was a dark thought that North didn't want to deal with. He did, though, approach the man.

"Hold out your arms. Going to hand this little scamp to you directly."

Vasquez gives an appreciative nod, seeing as he thinks that if they keep trying to let it run around and come to him, he's going to be in for a poor surprise when the animal just keeps running out of view. That's not going to help anyone.

"Machines, that's it?" That's depressing, but he supposes he can see it. It's not a future he'll have any purpose in. At least here, he still has good skills. "So, what is it you do?" he asks, arms out.

"That's about it. A lot is done by computer or machines these days. Not that I fully agree with that. But we're sorta busy to be handling it ourselves," North admits.

Once he's certain Vasquez is ready, he hands the puppy over, correcting his hold so that he can support the dog's rear so it won't feel unsafe.

"I was a special forces Marine, if the word means anything."

He doesn't know when the concept was invested after all.

It doesn't. He knows Army, he's heard about Navy, now, but the blank look on his face should prove that he really has absolutely no idea about what a Marine is supposed to be. "Maybe it's my English? It's not my first language," he admits, so maybe he's just missing out on that.

He takes the puppy and adjusts it into his arms, coddling it a little like he would a baby ewe. "What did you have to do?"

"Not mine either, but you get used to it when it's the common tongue," North shrugged. He gave the pup one last pat on the head while he ordered his thoughts.

"So it's like being in the Army, sort of except more badass. And associated with the Navy. I don't even know what led to that."

dog days are only starting

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