logsinthenight | Routine Adjustments, Catch-All Log for February [Open+Closed prompts]

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Routine Adjustments, Catch-All Log for February [Open+Closed prompts]

characters: Soldat etc, open and closed prompts
location: Various, see each prompt
date/time: February 4 - 15, non-event stuff
content: Some new additions to the usual routine, some quiet grieving, and some dancing
warnings: Just the usual Bucky shit

I. Expanded Patrols, All Over + Invincible [Open]

With downtown open, and so far away in the snow, patrols take a little longer. Soldat spends a week in early February balancing locations until they find the optimum route for the morning and afternoon patrols (or, the 0500 and 1600 patrols, since there's no real morning or afternoon in a world of endless night). After that, snow and ice or not, they can be found reliably following one looping path or the other, depending on the time of day. Sometimes with company, sometimes not. Sometimes stopping at the scrapyard to give the dog-spirit a treat and sift through the junk in search of something useful. Sometimes wandering the halls of the school, wondering what it would have been like to attend one. Sometimes glowering at the mall downtown with the stupid crocodile spirits in the lower level.

And after, lingering in the warm Invincible tavern room and kitchen, listening to people, playing music softly on their tablet, and munching idly on sandwiches or whatever Midge has made that day while they play a newly remembered boredom-dispelling game: solitaire.

They're willing to segue into poker, should anyone come to join them before they get up to clean their dishes in the kitchen and go home to sleep.

II. Expanded Hours, Gym [Open]

Wednesday and Friday, like clockwork, after the 1600 patrol along the downtown loop, Soldat is at the gym with Javert and Jason for weapons and survival lessons or, if no one shows up for those, sparring and practice. Because practicing outside is kind of dumb when it's freezing, and because the trees behind Aziraphale and Crowley's cabin are starting to look rather worst for wear, Soldat winds up adding another day during the week-- sometimes Monday, sometimes Saturday, whenever they have time. They just show up at the rec center and throw knives at things, slash at imaginary opponents all across the gym floor, and hit things with the flesh fist (the metal one doesn't need to practice; it's a machine).

Feel free to join in. Or watch and wolf-whistle. Whatever.

III. Fading Hope, Church [Open]

Between actual routine activities, Soldat has spare time. They don't normally like spare time, and try to find useful ways to fill it, but the first week or so of February, it's good that they have it, because they spend most of it in the church.

Scarlett, their very first friend since Steve Rogers, had an obituary. Scarlett has been gone for possibly weeks. Scarlett might still come back, and Soldat wants to be there when she does. Or at least find her as soon after as possible. Make sure she's all right.

So they sit in a pew near the back, feet propped unrepentantly on the pew back in front of them, and hold a notebook over their knees, sometimes writing (slow and halting, occasionally hasty scribbles), sometimes just staring at the blank pages. Waiting.

IV. Buck Up, Sad Boy [Closed to Misty]

Scarlett is gone, apparently for good, but. Well. They're not. And other people are not. And they can only wallow in Sad for so long before the Sergeant nags them into doing something they enjoy, even with the Asset apparently enjoying the mope. So after clearing out Scarlett's things from her old room (boxing up the more personal effects in their own room, distributing her canned food supply to the store), they head to Misty's.

They have a plan. This will cheer them both up, they hope. So they knock, tablet already out and clutched to their chest, and hope she's awake.

V. Dragged Along for Research [Closed to Sora]

The library is not really Soldat's favorite place, but here they are anyway, trailing along behind Sora, looking around at the books in a somewhat blank and lost manner. There's so damn many. How do you even know where to start.

Thankfully, that's what hyperactive teenagers are for. Start them in the right direction, Sora. Or at least start them somewhere.

VI. Wildcard

Got an idea not on here for something you'd like to do with Soldat before the memshare event? Hit me up, I am open to p much anything and everything.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One of these days maybe they'll feel like they've done something to earn her unconditional acceptance like this, been a good enough support for her. Until then, they're just... gonna soak it up and feel vaguely guilty about it, apparently. Not guilty enough to stop, though. Soldat is only half-Catholic.

If it's a smile she wants, it's a smile she gets, even if it's a little bit pathetic still. It does come with eyes up to her face, though, which is good. "I keep doin' this to you lately. I'm a mess." In regards to all the emoting. Is it better to be emotionless and hide everything but compliance, or to cry all the damn time?

"You've got a lot coming to the surface, Soldat. I really don't mind. Like it, even! Almost like you trust me or something." Little smile. Encouraging. Easing him toward greener mental pastures, but not pressuring. Shame she can't hug him, but they'll live.

"I like knowing you can do that with me. I like talking you through it, when I can. It's nice to help." As stated: he's worth it.

"I do. Trust you." It's not the same as love, but it's almost as unfamiliar. It is something they can recognize, at least, and it makes their voice and breathing settle a bit to do so. They actually trust Misty not to hurt them. When's the last time they thought that about someone? Steve, in ancient memories, maybe. Crowley they can touch without getting too overwhelmed, but the same trust isn't there, because Crowley still takes months-long naps and refuses to wake up and talk. Sora is kind, but Sora is young and unsteady and they're going to hurt each other just on accident tripping around each other's issues.

But Misty won't hurt them. Even if she's not herself. Even if they're not themselves. They actually believe that. She's proved it again and again. It's truth, not just wishful thinking.

This is maybe a bigger revelation for Soldat than it should be.

In a world where so many people are so easily abused or taken advantage of, with no recourse or justice, Misty's largely sworn off the stuff. But it feels rare and precious to offer it, and affirming to hear it explicitly returned. He's been so beaten down she can let herself believe that it really means something. It's not born of convenience. It's too tender a moment to beam, but the widening of her smile is unmistakable.

"I'm honored, and I won't take it for granted. And I think it's a pretty great start." It's a wondrous thing, and a foundation for more of the same. There's growth ahead. She's sure.

Another couple sniffs, and they think the waterworks are done. Unless one of them says something else sappy, or something. Their smile is still wan, but at least it's back now, and they finally tuck their hair back behind their ears so she can actually, properly see their face. It really is getting long. They oughta start... doing something with it, Jesus.

Apparently they ran out of words, as well as capacity for touch. After a moment of trying to find something to say, they just give up, and push slowly to their feet to head to the kitchen. They're gonna make coffee or cocoa or something, okay.

Nothin' but smile, Soldat. Watching idly after him, she resettles back in a real chair. Crisis averted. Slowly ebbing toward normal.

"This is nice. You know, I'm all for the surprise visits."

Surprise visits. Soldat isn't really great at spontenaity, but they do take note of that, at least. Where they might have time in their schedule to stop by at other times than to look for tasks. (Maybe when we have nightmares during the second sleep cycle. Seein' Misty after a nightmare? Sure that's a good idea? Better than anybody else. And she'll let us cook or just make folded animals. Orders. Not orders, Asset. Choices. Mission?)

They huff a little sigh out at the Asset's single-mindedness, but then, it's not like that's unfamiliar. A couple words squeeze out for Misty: "Can try." They start the coffee and decide, you know what, those mochas at the Night Market were good. They're gonna mix the coffee and the cocoa and see how it goes. It's an experiment.

"Not a demand, just being appreciative." But she'd be pleased with it, certainly.

Taking the return to clipped statements to mean he's still a little raw on the rebound, she'll curl up rather than immediately make efforts to continue conversation. Without her moving, the volume on his tablet increases slightly. It can take the place of conversation while he works - keeps the vibe pleasant, keeps silence at bay. Environmental filler.

Misty, you are the actual best. The music helps fill the silence, makes them feel less like it's hanging over them. They busy themselves in the kitchen for as long as it takes to brew enough coffee for both of them-- it's still the equivalent of midday, it shouldn't bother Misty, and it doesn't really affect Soldat anyway unless they have like eight cups-- by cleaning a little and then looking for some cheese and crackers to bring over with it. Fruit is ruled right out, as tasting gross with coffee.

They finally pour two steaming mugs and mix some of the chocolate powder into both, then bring the whole lot in with some careful balancing of coffee mugs and plate of snacks. "Experiment," they explain when handing Misty her drink.

Not tired enough to doze, Misty merely lounges. Savors music and the sound of someone busily occupying a kitchen. Not having expected a spread, however small, she looks just a little apologetic once he's back in eyesight. The experiment, likewise, has escaped notice. looking amused and skeptical, she blows on her mug.

"How likely is it it'll be a successful one, d'you think?"

Soldat holds up a hand, waffling it back and forth a little. "Fifty percent." Depends entirely on if she likes chocolate in her coffee, they suppose. And whether the chocolate as a powder, like this, actually works well with the coffee. The cheese gets set on the coffee table within reach of her chair and the couch, where they settle again.

Then they have a sip of theirs, ignoring the heat, and amend their estimation: "Seventy percent." It's pretty good, as far as they can tell, but they already know they like mochas when they're semi-professionally made. Not as good as the Night Market coffee cart, but not bad. Adds a nice bit of sweetness to the bitter.

It'll be a moment before she trusts herself not to scald her tongue, so she preoccupies herself with crackers in the meantime.

"You're sounding pretty discerning, probably more like eighty to me." Far from a connoisseur, after all, and easily pleased on average. Sweet is often better in her opinion anyway. "And I'd trust your guesses, actually. Aspiring chef that you are..." A lilt, not teasing, but certainly pleased.

They roll their eyes just slightly, but it's amiable. Their slightly burned tongue has already healed up. "Still just a student." Student at almost a century old. Or possibly over a century. Honestly, they're not sure how old they are. It'd be nice to have a birthdate, maybe, or at least the year. Anyway, the important part of that thought: "You're the chef. You tell me if it's good."

"I'm not a chef, hey, I'm just a hobbyist who's had a lot of time to kill with it." Not that she isn't flattered, as always, but it's not a title she's earned. It's steeled her enough for a sip, at least. What he's going for is immediately apparent; never had one from a shop, but her mother tried her hand at a home version more than once.

"It's good," she says, decidedly. "I'd add whipped cream, but this is pretty good. Kudos."

"Oh. Good idea. Night Market ones had whipped cream." Does Misty have whipped cream? They'll look next time. For now, they're going to enjoy and snack and get the rest of the way back to baseline after some ridiculous amounts of emoting.

Which is absolutely why they say, after a few bites of cracker and cheese and half the homemade mocha: "Asset still hasn't gone away." Maybe they just figure they've worn themselves out of crying and it'll be safe to talk about brain-brokenness? Fuck if they know.

It's an intermittent treat. When she can find it, it's nice to keep on hand.

His point is an interesting one. His head, really, is an interesting one. Her gaze turning up at him is placid and curious. No judgment, good or bad, on that statement. "Did you expect him to? Does the Sergeant just come and go entirely?"

"No, but Sergeant didn't come with the lanterns breaking. Thought maybe...." One shoulder hitches up in a shrug, eyes on the half-empty plate of snacks. They had thought-- hoped, even-- that the Asset-voice might go away when the lanterns recovered. But theirs never entirely did.

"I'm not any kind of expert, but I don't think it's necessarily...a bad thing? Not good, especially if it makes you uncomfortable somehow, but it's - I think it might be your head working through things. You came a long way in a real short amount of time, and thought patterns physically change your brain around, y'know? Makes sense growing away but still having that bad foundation might mean your brain thinks he needs to stick around awhile." A sort of desperate safety net. A factory reset, in the face of something nuclear. A theory.

"Which isn't to say he never will. I think it'll just be time. You've got a lot of settling to do, whole...schools of stuff to flush out slowly."

It makes them tired, more than anything else. Most of the time they have no idea what the Asset is even getting at when they pipe up. It's depressing to think they used to be remotely like that. (Yes. Actually not sure you were ever that bad. Ready to comply. Sometimes I was.)

But that does all kind of make sense. It's not like Soldat knows a damn thing about how brains work, and has literally no guidance for how it's all supposed to put itself together. "So my brain doesn't think it can take care of itself. Of me. Without help from the Asset." (Well, it's not like the Asset is hurting anyone. Or doing much of anything. Don't start trusting that it won't. Mission. I won't.)

"Or even just that you're out of the woods yet. It's adopted a lot of stuff just to survive, so it's probably trying to keep ready for a bad handler, or...something like that. A layer of defense, so the rest of your head can go about its business. I think it'll fade in time." She wishes she had the means of obliterating it, but it hurts less to believe in as a stage of growth. Velveteen, to be ground off with experience.

It's a sure smile on her face. Not a lie to comfort him.

"When stuff messes with your head, natural it's gonna take longer to feel safe from."

After a moment of kinda difficult consideration, (Might as well, she knows everything else. No. She's handler. Christ, that was almost a sentence. No. It might make her sad. So does everything else about this shit, probably, pal. Think she can take it.) Soldat finally says, "I've been keeping ready for that for as long as I can remember. That's just. Default." Moments when they're not on hyper alert are getting more common, usually moments like this spent with someone designated as safe, but they're still not the default setting. "Not sure why I'd need help with that, now."

"Maybe you caught yourself?" She theorizes. "Kept it in the back of your head, but you started letting people connect, being a little individual, making friends. Easy to ignore or think of as a one time thing, and suddenly it hits a percentage and your head is like, 'hold on there, woah, too much, unsafe', and throws that in to compensate."

Misty, you're very smart, and that does in fact kind of make sense. Especially given: "I counted fourteen people last week. Fourteen. Seems like... a lot to care about at once. Kinda overwhelming a lot." Down to thirteen, now, with Scarlett being gone. But still, that's a hell of a lot of people, especially when the Asset didn't have anyone at all, the Sergeant doesn't remember any actual names, and their only memories of Before are Steve and sisters.

So it's a valid theory, after all.

And makes them wonder. With half a smile, even, because they know it's probably a silly question. But they still ask it. "So what's your theory about the Sergeant."

It's a flicker, she can't maintain the intensity without hurting her cheeks, but she beams at that. He deserves that. He needs that. "That's great. Really, it really is."

And she quite likes silly questions. Still prompting, after all.

"I think he's how you started. Had to take a back seat at some point or risk getting so broken up he'd never come back, yeah? Come too far to ever really be that again, but I think you two'll settle into something nice. And until then," eyelids drop slightly, a teasing but not untrue edge to her tone, "I think he's just such a sweetheart he can't help but chime in when he can help."

Softy.

Soldat is not often very self-aware (working on it, but still), but they can recognize relief at that. Misty doesn't necessarily think the Sergeant will go away. It takes them a minute to put a finger on why. (I'd miss you, I think. If you were gone. Aw, shaddup. You're worse than she is.)

"Well, now we've embarrassed him," Soldat says out loud, smiling a bit.

Routine Adjustments, Catch-All Log for February [Open+Closed prompts]

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