sixthiterationlogs | 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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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."

All that he's learning is that Vasquez is definitely not going to mention that he's an outlaw and wanted by Rangers and Army-men. He doesn't think that it would do well for this new friendship. Besides, he has the dog to occupy him, poking and rubbing at its belly a little.

"And here? Are you still that, this Marine?" he asks cautiously, wondering how very righteous he is.

Like he'd still be wanted by North's time.

"I haven't been with the military for a while," North shrugged off, but there is weight behind the words. The 'how' of the leaving wasn't exactly the best thing to talk about. After the momentary discomfort he puts the smile back in place. "But what's a Marine with out an army to serve? It wouldn't happen here even if I wanted it. Which I don't."

"I know men like this. They were something, once upon a time, but then the world changed," he admits, feeling like it's a strange thing. He's not one of them, but he could see it with Goodnight. He'd fought a whole war and then it had moved on, leaving him with the ghosts of the past.

"Did it scar you?" he wonders, the puppy yawning and burrowing into Vasquez's arms, which means it's finally calmed.

Did it...

North's hand comes up without meaning to, his thumb stroking over his heart where one of the arguably least impressive and yet most important scars rests. And that's not even the half of it. He knows the AI port is gone because Theta told him. He doesn't know how bad the scars on the back of his neck are.

"Who comes out without getting hurt some?"

That might not have been what the man meant, but maybe North doesn't want to admit that yes, it did.

He has his own scar, but he doesn't want to show it off. It's not for other people to see and it's not that Vasquez is proud of it. After all, it only happened because he was coerced into helping. "I know a man or two," he admits.

After all, Sam Chisolm and Red Harvest had walked out mostly untouched, but for a few bruises. It takes talent and skill and magic to be like that, he thinks. "Now, though, none of that. Only dogs and farming and staying alive."

"Sounds a bit pastoral," North smiles, ignoring the man or two thing. North didn't see a reason to be jealous of those who got out alive or uninjured. But the dog? Yeah, a touch jealous. But that might be Theta's emotions, not his. "Kind of nice actually. Guess this counts as retirement for me."

"It sounds like a life without running or fighting," he admits, if that's what pastoral means (because the truth is that he doesn't actually know, it not being his first language). Having Faraday to do it with, that's good too, and so is the animal that he has in his arms.

"Is it so bad? I mean, I think all this could definitely be worse," he points out. "Peaceful most of the time, if only a little bit strange."

"It's not bad. It was what I always wanted to find, after the war ended. Never had a chance, being a fugitive."

See, he wouldn't turn you in, because here he is, owning that he's probably in a slightly similar position. He reaches out to stroke the little dog's head and then smiles as he moves away.

"You take care of that little pup and I hope we can find some horses or cattle or whatever for you."

Vasquez nods and gives the dog a little scratch at his head, enjoying when it yips, even though he knows it's going to be a working dog, more than anything.

"Come north, sometime, and you can visit him," he offers, shaking off the rest of the water from his hair, as he heads off, already speaking to the dog in Spanish because he plans to teach him in this language.

dog days are only starting

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