I'm drowning in myself

[onesyllable]

WHO: Joshua Faraday
WHERE: Hot spring, around the south village, north village at the house and barn
WHEN: Throughout March
OPEN TO: ota
WARNINGS: cw for alcoholism and over indulging in alcohol

---

Hot Spring: First days of the month

Coping in a world with barely any alcohol is harder than Joshua could ever imagine. He's gone through the bottles that Vasquez gave him, gotten through the vodka he's taken bits and sips from in the kitchen, and found himself without anything left sooner than he thought.

Everything hurts, he feels like he's falling apart from the inside out, and he's taken advice to go down to the hot spring to try and get himself through this. He's not sure how a hot bath is going to help, but at this point it couldn't hurt, so he followed down to the south village with one of the kirin. If nothing else he figures he can use it to help him make himself back home if he needs to.

Now the kirin is tethered nearby, grazing around the end of the tie as Faraday lounges in the water. He may have on shorts, but from the top of the water he's at least shirtless, his hat on and down over his eyes with his jeans and boots nearby. He has a cigarette in one hand, the smoke wafting around his head as he leans back, eyes closed. He's not sure how, or how long it will last, but they were right. Soaking in that warm water was definitely helping.


South Village: Early in the Month

Just as things were getting bad, and Faraday is beginning to wonder if he is going to make it, he gets a gift that he can only figure it from God - because what the hell even with all of this Observers shit - and he finds a box with his name on it. A large white box filled with bottles!

And while he knows he needs to ration them, hold onto them as best he can to keep himself just on that edge and not going into that god awful state of pain and hollowness that he's been in, but that first bottle is cracked open right then and there, tilting the bottle back and drinking deeply.

For the next couple of days, he keeps himself in that state. Just beyond buzzed, right where he could mostly stay on his own two feet, but it's a good thing he's never been introduced to a breathalyzer. Stumbling about the village from time to time, but mostly camping out by the fire with a bottle and a smoke until someone gives him any hell for smoking indoors, starting up a barely slurred conversation with anyone that comes too close.

North Village: Later in the month

The first box came to him in the south village, but the others he found in the barn in the north village when he went over in the morning to check on the animals and feed them. The boxes were in tatters, half eaten by their former inhabitants and two new creatures milling about the barn.

Definitely time for an outdoor pen, even with the weather, and so he took to heart the talk he and Vasquez had discussed about a project for the pair of them to work on, and started gathering logs from trees already felled to try and start splitting them for rails.

He's even mostly sober, having tapered off after those first couple of days to just enough to take the edge off as best he can.

Comments

North Village

[clouded_heart]

Thing is, Foggy is ostensibly there to see Bobo.

He is a little bit there to see the animals, maybe, but really, it was mostly Bobo he has planned on dropping by to catch up with, because at work isn't the best of chatting places.

He doesn't see him knapping, so he checks with the animals, if he's there, and instead he sees-

"Goatlets."

Kids, he knows, but... tiny, leggy, bouncy goatlets.

"HohmahGod. Kidlets. They are so adorable."

Any people are now incidental to the tiny, adorable - "Lookit her bounce!"

[onesyllable]

Faraday doesn't think much of anyone else being in the barn, working on trying to get the pieces of the box picked up before they got sick eating them. At least until that announcement, and then the further reaction. Straightening from where he's bent over, grinning at the reaction. "Apparently I've been a good boy," he says. "Found a few presents lately, including those two starving ones," he says, holding up the bits of box he's been gathering. "I didn't miss a lesson or something, did I?"

[clouded_heart]

Foggy gives in and swoops down on the black and white one, gathering her in his arms, prompting a plaintive bleat and then relaxing into the warmth. "No, not at all. I looked after a lot fo these guys when you all vanished up the mountain. I was coming by to check on Bobo, he's been a bit rough edged recently and I wanted to take a chance to talk to him, maybe protect his hands while he was knapping, but he's not around."

He wanders closer to Joshua, rocking the kidlet in his arms. "On the plus side... goats will eat anything and everything short of human bodies."

[onesyllable]

He made a bit of a face at that, glancing towards where their house would be. "He's been out a lot. Walking, I guess. Leaves the house nice and empty, so I guess he'll be okay," he says, not sound as if he's really all that concerned. Their housemate is weird, and he's okay with him not being around.

And it's not jealousy!

"Glad to know that last part," he says with a laugh. "Never done much with milk beside drink it, but guessing we can make butter and make some cheese maybe. Told there's books on it in the schoolhouse?" He hasn't been there, but he's heard from others. "They got a lot of goats in the other village?"

He's realizing he should go down there more than just for a drunken bender, and the spring when he needs it.

north village

[bloodbathing]

One of the advantages (or disadvantages, as the case may be) of having so few neighbors is that it's easy to spot new activity and projects taking place. Maine has made a habit of not engaging much, preferring to remain on the periphery and observe. Outside of combat, that's what feels most natural to him.

Today, however, he happens to be passing close by as one of his neighbors is hauling logs. Maine catches a whiff of alcohol (new? old? he's not sure) and pauses, looking over at the other man. The guy doesn't look drunk, but he probably shouldn't be doing ... whatever the hell he's doing while smelling like liquor. Could lead to an accident. And, though he's far from a Good Samaritan, Maine figures he should at least attempt to prevent that.

"Need help?" he asks. They haven't been properly introduced, but Maine figures he'll be recognized as someone who lives in the area, just as he'd identified the other man. If he's wrong — well, hopefully the seven-foot-tall marine won't scare the guy with his presence.

[onesyllable]

Sadly where Faraday is at is almost sober compared to the last few days, but then he's not really one that understands the full concept of sober. Hasn't since he was a teenager. One day his liver is going to revolt and that's going to be it. Today is not that day though. He's holding his own though as he lines up a third log, considering if he can use the wedge he found to just half split them and build a stacked split rail fence. Hands on his hips, considering the logs and what he can do to get them started when he hears a voice. Glancing up... and then up again, reaching up to push his hat back on his head to get a clear. "You ever split logs for a fence before? I haven't since I was about yea tall," he says, gesturing with one hand to about maybe way shorter than he might have been the last time he did it. "You related to that fellow with the horns?"

[bloodbathing]

The Freelancer shakes his head. No, he's never split logs for a fence. Still, he thinks he'd be more of an asset than a liability, especially considering the scent of alcohol present. So he approaches the other man, moving fairly slowly so as not to startle him.

(Maine is accustomed to people being afraid of him. Even if Faraday doesn't look it, force of habit wins.)

Dark eyebrows raise at that question. Far as Maine knows, Frank doesn't have horns — and it's Frank that Maine thinks the other man is asking about; he hasn't seen anyone else who looks like a dead relative around here. Shaking his head again, he says, "No horns."

[onesyllable]

"You're tall though. Not used to fellows being that tall," he says, shaking his head. He chuckles though. "You seen him? Never seen nothing like that in my life," he adds, babbling a bit but he's like that sober so it isn't much of a chance. "We're gettin' too many animals to not have a pen for them. They deserve more room, even in the cold. Figure if I started getting them split, there's an easy way to stack them for a fence. My pa taught me how when I was a boy,' he adds, moving to pick up a wedge he'd found. Despite the obvious signs of drinking, he's fairly steady on his feet, and his hands don't shake. Not now that he's had a drink they don't. "You set this to the log, and then you hit it, and keep moving down until they split," he says with a nod.

south village

[quinientos]

Vasquez knows that complaining about Faraday being drunk is hypocritical given that he enjoys a drink here or there, but it's been a little ridiculous, and he's been stumbling around, sometimes barely coming home until the early hours, and Vasquez decides that enough is enough and it's time to say something.

He finds Faraday outside a campfire, bending down so he can lean over and light his cigarette, pushing the bottle with his ankle to hear how empty it is before he decides to start griping. "So," he begins, tight, "are you coming home on time tonight?"

[onesyllable]

And it's definitely empty enough to start bitching. Even he is starting to think maybe he's gone too far. If only in that he needs to keep them as long as he can, even if he supplements them with some of that shine from the kitchen, but he's already gone through at least two bottles. Maybe he doesn't know how many total even. He frowns though, knowing that tone well enough despite the haze of alcohol. "You're mad." Well, isn't he brilliant and quick! "You know you can have some, and did I tell you that there's more smokes?" He kind of lurches to his feet, nearly stumbling as he moves closer to Vasquez. "Why mad?" He went almost comically wide eyed. "You don't think I'm steppin' out with someone else, do you?"

[quinientos]

He rolls his eyes in such a show that it's comical, but he's pissed, not because Faraday is drinking so much or because he's drunk now, but he's mad because he keeps ending up alone in bed. He settles in a seat and coaxes for Faraday, patting his lap to give him a place to stumble.

"I haven't seen you this bad since we first met," he mutters, half to himself. "I'm mad because I'm supposed to have a nice warm boyfriend to sleep with at night, but you cuddle the bottles more than me," he says, pissy.

[onesyllable]

Maybe sober... er he might not have agreed to this arrangement. In his condition though, he can't think of a reason not to. Even in that state, he tries to catch himself so he doesn't drop onto Vasquez's lap, leaning into him heavily though as he settles on his lap. "I ran out," he points out, as if that explains everything. "Bout a week ago. Thought..." He pauses to take a drink, offering the bottle to Vasquez. "Thought I could handle it now but..." He shakes his head, thinking about the pain and the dizziness, and the anger and the way his skin felt wrong over his body. "Feels better now," he says, pausing to look at him, frowning as his head cants slowly. "Wait. Wait. Did you just call me your boyfriend?" Not anyone, man or woman, has ever called him that and he's a bit stunned to have heard it now. Even sleeping together, literally and sexually, and homesteading a place, he didn't expect to hear anyone want to call him that. Especially a good man like Vasquez. A man he knows isn't what some think of him after having seen those images. Both of how they'd hurt Vasquez, and how he started to wonder as he sobered up, if all that pain and oddness came from being dead. The recovering of the alcohol meant not thinking about that now.

Hotsprings

[to_defend]

7 had heard about the hotspring, but hadn't been yet. Curiosity and the promise of a deep lasting warmth was what finally drove her to venture out. She's certainly not expecting company, so the moment she steps into the clearing and notices someone else is there, she tenses. She's got her spear with her (you can never be to sure in these woods), but she doesn't quite bring it up with the realization of another person.

She does stare long enough to determine that she hasn't met this person before, then reaches a hand in to feel the water before leaning her spear against the ground and stripping down to her underwear. She slips into the water opposite the stranger, keeping eyes on him and keeping close to her spear, but the warm water tugs at her attention as she starts to relax into it.

"Regretting not coming here sooner." She disappears under the surface and then returns, pushing her wet hair back and settling down to submerge as much of herself as she can without giving up the ability to breathe. "You come here often?"

[onesyllable]

His head cants slightly, just to get a look of whoever is approaching past the brim of his hat. Seeing the girl, he gives her an appraising look as he raises the cigarette to his lips, drawing deep and enjoying the feeling of the warmth around him, and the smoke in his lungs. Noting she's armed, keeping it close, but he isn't bothered by that. He's spent most of his life with a gun within reach, and a knife beside. He's not worried about someone feeling the same need. Except for making the effort to smoke, he makes no move at her approach, letting her settle in. Arching a brow though at that as he reaches up, pushing his hat back with the tip of his thumb as he chuckles. "Nope, first time myself. Been hurting a lot and someone goes and tells me this place can help heal you. Not sure how I feel about that, but can't hurt, right?" He shrugs, making the water ripple. "You want a smoke? I got a bottle of whiskey too," he says, shifting and reaching behind him for it.

whoops forgot to hit submit

[to_defend]

"I haven't had a smoke before." She's watching him curiously, a slight frown to her features. She's betting it was something like that thing he was chewing on? "I think I've had enough whiskey over new years."

Her experience during that event and trying to survive through the following hangover haven't left her with an eagerness to repeat it.

The water, though - it feels so nice. She'd heard about the hotsprings a while back, but it'd taken her some time to get enough past her initial fear of water to venture it.

[onesyllable]

"Someone told me people don't smoke like they used to," he admits, toying with the cigarillo between his fingers. "Not sure I plan on giving them up though. Not so long as they keep giving them to me in those weird boxes that just show up in your house or wherever," he says, nose wrinkling as he thinks about that.

He falls quiet a minute, considering this place, the boxes, all of it. "You think this place can heal you?" Like magic. He doesn't add that part.

South Village

[moderndayassassin]

Getting regular drinks together for people was the top of Desmond's list at the moment, but he also was a firm believer in not over-indulging. As a bartender, though, it was completely normal to know how to handle people when they were drunk. It's when he spots Faraday stumbling around the south village, he recognizes it for the drunken movement it is, and frowns. It isn't hard to recognize the man himself, since Desmond never forgets a face, especially not one that a friend (Vasquez) pointed out to him precisely. He promised not to indicate anything from their conversations, but at the least, he owes his friend to keep an eye out for his boyfriend.

So Desmond watches him, not sure where he's trying to walk to, and catches up. "Hey there, buddy, having a good night, are we?" He can walk eerily quiet and for a decent sized man, stealth is his secondary nature. He didn't even mean to practically appear out of no where, but that is more or less what he probably seemed like he did. "You trying to get back home?"

[onesyllable]

Despite his inebriated state, Faraday is suddenly quick. Spinning, his hand going to his hip and halfway up before his mind catches up with the reality that he isn't armed. He wavers a bit on his feet, but had he been armed, it might well have been dangerous for the other man even if his aim might be a bit off. "What are you?" He cocks his head, arching a brow. "Part cat?" Around here he wouldn't be a bit surprised if the man was. "Just being glad to get rid of the pain," he says, smirking as he holds up the bottle he's carrying by the neck. "Shhhh," he says, snickering. "Ran out and wasn't doing well, but it's better now," he says, grinning crookedly. "So all good. Definitely good." Shifting to lean back against a nearby wall. "Do I know you?"

[moderndayassassin]

Desmond's instinct is just as fast, but instead of reaching for a weapon, of which he does have unlike a gun, he just puts his hands up to show he isn't armed. His knife is very close though. While he isn't as violent as the rest of his family, he is too well trained not to be speedy. He does at least look chagrined. "Sorry, yeah, I forget that I walk quietly." Stealth is an important weapon for an assassin. He has taken to intentionally making more noise, but forgot this time.

What pain, he almost asks, but the way he shows his bottle makes a few jumps in Desmond's head. Uh oh, one of those. Detoxing is a vicious thing, he's helped his friends do it before, and he's sympathetic. That would be hard for someone stuck here with limited access. It's a kindness for them to send some. "You might want to save some of it, dude. No telling if they plan on restocking regularly." Saying that to a drunk isn't that helpful though.

He pauses. "Uh, no, but I know a friend of yours, Vasquez."

South Village

[duel_wielding]

There's something to be said for experience telling him just what is going on before he even has a chance to get close to the guy. He's got plenty of experience with people stumbling and just about falling over themselves with the alcohol. The moment he sees it he moves forward, glad that he did almost immediately because he can spell the alcohol on the man.

North reaches a hand to the man's shoulder to steady him.

"Hey there, are you okay?"

[onesyllable]

Raising his head as someone moves to help him, Faraday can't help but grin at them. "I am perfectly fine," he says, not seeing a single problem given he kind of intentionally got in this state. Just a day or two so he can forget the pain and the irritability and all the pain that came with being without alcohol for nearly a week. "Better than perfectly fine," he adds, sighing softly. "Pain's all gone and everything."

[duel_wielding]

Nice smile, but he doesn't believe Faraday entirely. Sorry, but he's seen enough drunk people claiming to be fine before they did something stupid and got themselves hurt.

"Your coordination isn't exactly there either. Let me help you get to wherever I'm going. Otherwise I'm going to worry. Just the sort of man I am."

[plate_builder]

"So that is the horse-like thing?"

It's been a while since they met, right here in this place actually. Reeve moved past the creature there, much how Faraday had described it when Reeve tried to explain Chocobos, and continued forward. Strange thing. After a moment he strips down to undergarments and moves to the water. Moving forward is clearly painful, especially with the nasty claw-marks on his leg, but then he's lowering himself into the water, dealing with the pain.

Almost immediately the water soothes some of the ache.

"Where did you find a cigarette?"

[onesyllable]

"Crazy things, aren't they? Fairly trainable though. Only had them get ornery once. They got a new bunkmate in the stables and they seem to take him fairly well, so that helps," he says, figuring no one can get cranky around that damn groffle calf. Canting his head, watching Reeve as he settled into the water. "Looks like something got a piece of you there. Anything to worry about?" Even as he asks, he takes another puff. "People behind this place apparently felt like being kind. Got a box full of them. Haven't killed me yet so I figure they're not poisoned. You want one?"

[plate_builder]

Ornery, well, that is disturbing. Reeve wasn't certain that he liked the idea of a ornery creature having a horn like that. Easy to get hurt. But that isn't important at the moment because the thing seemed mostly placid, and Reeve respected that calmness that had settled over the beast. If only for his own safety.

"Wendigo, while I was out scavenging thanks to that lovely little disappearing act our hosts put us through. It's dead now."

The offer, though, is almost tempting. Reeve hasn't smoked since he was in college, and for a moment he craves it. But he smiles at the offer and waves it aside.

"Thank you kindly for the offer, but I shall decline. The things kill you, slowly, but they do kill you."