Losing Family [Catch-all Log - Open]

[worthallthis]

characters: Bucky/Soldat and OPEN
location: Aziraphale and Crowley's house, around Beacon, the church, etc
date/time: First half of March, up to the Wild Heart event
content: Soldat lost some really important people and is reacting poorly
warnings: Excessive sadness, a temper tantrum at one point, varying levels of ability to actually verbalize, and the usual disassociation for a Soldat post


I. Ferry Fears (Open)

It's normal to visit the ferry on the day it arrives. Soldat always helps unload, and this month they have things they badly want, anyway. They frown at the smell wafting off the lake as the ferry drifts up through the melting ice. They know that smell-- they know it very well. Why does the ferry smell like weeks-old dead bodies?

Well, that's a question quickly answered. Leaping on board even before the ferry docks-- thanks, superserum!-- Soldat is faced with... actual weeks-old dead bodies! What a surprise. They crouch to investigate them, because of course they do, looking for signs of cause of death, alert for potential danger still on board. And that facial structure and rotting clothing is... familiar. That curl of blonde hair. That--

"--holy shitting fuck," Soldat whines, scrambling back with a start. That would be the decaying body of one Misty Day, right there. But they saw her just this morning. She's fine. They, uh, dash out a quick text message to her on their tablet (Misty please tell me you are okay) and then pick themselves up. Gingerly. And start looking at more bodies, giving that one a wide berth but keeping it in the corner of their eye anyway. Other bodies reveal themselves to be other friends, including a Crowley and Aziraphale, and, wedged into a corner of one cabin room, their own rotting corpse-- metal arm still shiny and undecayed because the damn thing doesn't even rust.

"What the fuck," they mutter to themselves, before finally, warily getting busy hauling getting supplies off the boat. Maybe a little more quickly than usual. They wanna see people's faces in person, after this.


II. Frantic Searching (Open)

Only there are a few faces missing. Aziraphale is nowhere to be found (again) and Crowley is missing from his bed and Mewtwo is not at the armory. Soldat checks in with the others-- Sora, Misty, Ellever, anyone they actually know and find comfortable to talk with actually-- with one of the questions: "Have you seen Crowley? Tall, copper hair, kind of an asshole?" "Have you seen Aziraphale? Kind of round, white curls, awful bowtie?" "Have you seen a tall blue cat-like person that floats and talks in your head?"

Even after the weekly bulletin with Lucius and Aziraphale confirmed in the obituaries, that doesn't mean they're not coming back. Right? And Aziraphale will be pissed as hell if Soldat managed to lose Crowley hours after his untimely demise. So they keep looking, keep asking around, keep checking the various outlying buildings and holding up their lantern fully unshuttered to the dark woods in search of a glimpse, an echo of a voice, a goddamn scent of Crowley or Mewtwo. (Fully unshuttered means anybody passing by can catch a glimpse of that little green crack, too, for those inclined to be nosy and who might know what that means.)


III. Church Vigils (Open)

When the search falls short after a few days, Soldat's routine changes. Patrols are cut a little short. Visits to handlers are brief, a quick assurance for Misty and dropping off a meal for Javert. Lunches or dinners at the Invincible are made to go. Meals, network scrolling, and weapon maintenance all take place in the church, a pew near the back, while Soldat waits for Aziraphale. And maybe Crowley. And maybe Mewtwo. Maybe even Lucius.

After the first week, it's Crowley and maybe Mewtwo. And a fixed, carefully neutral expression. They go through two notebooks, writing not memories of before they died, but memories of a former handler and technician. Those are precious, too.


IV. Rattling Around the House (Semi-open, close CR only)

Four hours twice a day are set aside for sleep. Mostly, in the empty house, Soldat does not in fact sleep. They pace around. They make little armies of origami animals. They cook mounds of food and plow through it without tasting it, to make up for the nervous energy and the lack of sleeping.

They can be found here during the two four-hour segments of the day they normally sleep, if anyone wants to come by. Only close friends get an answer at the door, though. People Soldat doesn't feel comfortable being nervous and only partially verbal around don't get to come in.


V. Packing Up (Semi-open, close CR only)

After the second week of church vigils, Soldat stops going. Because no one stays dead that long unless they really are dead. After that, patrols and handler visits don't happen at all for about three days. One of those days is spent out in the woods behind the village punching trees and making a big, noisy fuss outside of the immediate earshot of anyone who might worry. One is spent in blank moroseness, locked up in the house, out of energy to make a fuss.

The third day is spent slowly packing up all the personal things that belonged to Crowley, Aziraphale, and themselves. (Including a weird-ass little ghost thing that seems to like being petted on top of the head and occasionally followed them around the house during their pacing. It's kind of cute, and it used to be Crowley's, so apparently Soldat is looking after it now.) Friends can come in this day, too, if they want to help in the packing.

Packing complete, Soldat starts sadly carrying armfuls of things to Misty's cabin or back to the general store.


VI. Back to Normal? (Open)

After that, things even out. Soldat is staying at Misty's house now, though the torch remains in front of Aziraphale and Crowley's house since she has her own. Their routine resumes, exactly as if they never stopped it. Patrols are on time and thorough, meals happen actually at the Invincible, they return to practicing at the gymnasium on days when there's no combat classes, and they actually sleep again.

Still kind of quiet, though, with little casual conversation and no singing under their breath, and there's been no catching various friends with a song and a dance like had maybe seemed like it was becoming a thing now and then. Soldat's going to be a while actually getting back to happy, sorry friends, but they never turn down company.

Comments

III. Church Vigils

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Quentin hasn't been in the church since Eliot died and failed to return. He hasn't really been there since fighting Vanitas and losing spectacularly, watching the vaulted ceiling drip with the last remnants of his magic and Vanitas's Darkness.

But he's seen the bulletin, he keeps a careful count on everyone who's died since December and who came back. And how long it took.

Aziraphale came to him here. Around Christmas, when he could have done anything and been anywhere else, but Aziraphale came here. To comfort Quentin, to talk about those they lost and to pray.

And maybe that's why Quentin comes back, five days after reading about Aziraphale in the Bulletin.

Because after seeing Aziraphale's God, he kind of understands. Why Aziraphale would love Her. Would pray to Her and actually think it did anything.

So, he goes. Holding the opal with a memory of Aziraphale inside of it. Of his God, and Her kind voice. The golden light of creation and the beginning of the world of man.

He holds it and he kneels by the candles, both hands wrapped around the opal as he whispers his prayer. It's not until he gets up that he notices someone sitting in the back row.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in here."

[worthallthis]

Soldat blinks owlishly at him over the notebook braced against their knees, combat boots propped up on the pew in front of them. It's reaching the end of the point where Aziraphale could possibly come back, now. They're feeling the strain, but it's not showing yet.

And Quentin has every right to be here, anyway. "It's fine. Public place and all. Didn't want to disturb you."

III

[arsarcanum]

Sora hadn't thought much about Aziraphale running off again. Honestly, he'd been on the same boat (ha), trying to look for his friends after the nausea from the sight and smell of a bunch of corpses passed, but after touching base with the soldier themselves and a few other friends, he'd realized he'd been had. Pretty funny joke! Well, if you're dead. Sora doesn't consider himself dead, so he isn't particularly happy about it, but no harm was meant. So when the soldier asked about Aziraphale, he'd simply shaken his head, talked to them about it, assured that he was probably fine, and continued his patrol, keeping an eye out for curly white hair and a white coat.

This was clearly a mistake after waking up one morning to check the bulletin and seeing Aziraphale's death notice. He knew where Soldat would be.

So this is Sora, plopping onto the same pew, and... he's digging out a notebook and a pen of his own. Hey, he's a good listener, and it was a good idea. He'll start taking some notes himself.

"Hey," he says eventually. "Have you eaten yet?"

[worthallthis]

Easy answer there. Soldat picks up the plate on their opposite side to show him. There had at one point been a simple sandwich on it (or, more likely, two or three sandwiches). They're taking care of themselves, so far, it's fine.

It's nice having Sora right there, though. Company for the waiting. Feels less alone.

Also, turn-about is fair play. "Have you?"

IV

[arsarcanum]

As for week two, the one without Crowley? Yeah, Sora's not risking them being alone. He has a routine now - Mondays are dinner at Miner's Castle #3. He's been at it for a month and a half and, well, the things he suspected about light and friends and memories and time are correct. If you set a time to see a friend, the connection that creates makes the time in between easier to bear. He's not about to stop just because it just so happens that he won't be fed. He's going there determined to keep them company for as long as he possibly can.

So here he is, rapping at their door, bag on his back and his rolled up blarrito under his arm. (Blanket burrito is too long. It's the blarrito now.) Knock knock, soldier. Kid here for company whether you like it or not.

[worthallthis]

It takes a minute or two for the door to open, but open it does, showing a grumpy-looking but presentable Soldat, in socks and comfortable-looking sweat pants and like three layers of shirt. They open the door wide enough for Sora to come in, close it behind him, and then prowl into the kitchen. If Sora is here, he's gonna get fed.

There is a little plastic... ghost... thing drifting after them. Floating. Eyes glowing. It's weird. It's also about like 4 inches tall, so pretty much only the fact that there are now two unshuttered lanterns in here and the fact that said eyes are glowing give its presence away.

III.

[equinoctials]

[ Riku sees the bulletin.
He remembers what Aziraphale told him, that night they stopped to rest around a fire. What he told him about the Soldier as Riku ate from a cold tin can. Because of his assistance, they found the Armoury.
He doesn't know why someone as capable, as strong and as helpful as Soldier would need handlers, as if they were talking about an animal in a zoo, but he can read between the lines and tell that a special bond was there. He knows how deeply it wounds to have an important connection severed, what a burden it is to be left waiting for closure that never comes. Riku doesn't know but rather suspects that Soldat will endure the tense waiting and eventual grief with stony stoicism, maybe anger. Maybe he'll be surprised by something different, but another thing that Riku suspects is perhaps disturbed rest.

It's why, when Riku silently enters the church, he's not surprised to spy his silhouette occupying the last pew, carrying his usual satchel, bulging with a wool blanket he's using to keep what's inside it warm. ]

...Hey.

[ He's hushed, but not out of timidity. There's an atmosphere in this place that invites quiet. From the bag rises the warm smells of simple, creamy comfort food, a casserole of cubed potatoes baked with cheese and sour cream. Maybe Soldat won't have an appetite, but it'll at least keep up his strength if he isn't sleeping. ]

I saw the bulletin.

[worthallthis]

[It's complicated. Even people who know the extent of the programming-- not that there are many, and most of them still only have pieces anyway-- balk at the handler protocols. And Soldat knows it. It doesn't bother them any more than having to eat more than everyone else does-- which isn't to say "not at all", but... not enough to change the protocols. Not at this point.

They glance sidelong at Riku as he enters, nod in greeting, and only turn towards him on the pew once it's clear he's coming to speak to them, putting the notebook on their lap aside. And then they scrub the flesh hand over their hair, a clearly unhappy gesture, but not too nervous of one yet.]

Yeah. Aziraphale. I'm waiting for him. Couldn't find Crowley, either.

[Or Mewtwo, but that's not connected to this pair in specific, and really, the pokemon didn't interact with that many people to miss it.]

v

[policier]

( It's been a few days since he's seen him, but Javert doesn't rush to his side. He's seen the bulletin, and the name that was listed upon it. It doesn't take a police inspector to figure out what's made him upset, and why he's been so listless and worrisome for the past few weeks. Javert may not have cared much for Crowley or Aziraphale — even if the latter did heal his leg — but he does care for Soldat, in his own strange way.

He walking with a cane now, his strength not entirely recovered, but better than it was before. He may not be able to make a full patrol around Beacon, but he can manage a trip out to the village without much difficulty. He stands outside the cottage, his coat buttoned up tight and drawn close to his body despite the warmer weather. When Soldat appears in the doorway, Javert regards him sadly and asks, )

You will not stay here?

[worthallthis]

[The expression on Javert face makes them feel obscurely guilty. Well, Javert in general makes them feel guilty, because wow they have been shirking their duteis so bad lately. But that look. They made the Inspector sad? That must be remedied... but they don't have the energy.

They're a little dishevelled, actually, another point of embarrassment. Javert arrived in the middle of packing up, and there's a long tendril of hair escaped their tie on one side of their face, they've got no shoes on (just socks; Soldat is never barefoot), and they're wearing sweat pants of all things. If they were able to get worked up at all today, they'd be working up into mortification.

As it is, they step back to let Javert in, if he so wishes, and answer,]

I can't. It's too empty. I need people, and I can't ask anyone to just. Up and move to keep me company.

V

[shadowsran]

Worried sick, Soldat. Worrying her goddamn sick. She arrives, silently, as the last of everything is being boxed up. All for the best, as she would have been too reluctant to presume what was whose. Pack mule is a more familiar role. She doesn't need to speak once she's passed the entryway. Figures at least to start, she ought to be sparse too. A box is hefted, she would guess some of his belongings, and hardly a moment's consideration passes before two more float, delicately, behind her.

"Not making twenty trips."

However much she dislikes any show of ability in public...the walk is brief. She wants him inside. "How have you been sleeping?"

[worthallthis]

There's actually surprisingly little stuff. A lot of extra blankets, most of which went back to the general store. A bunch of books, most of which went back to the library. Crowley's candy-making supplies. A lot of junk from the gatcha machine, most of which also went to the general store, some of which is staying behind, a few bits wound up in personal boxes. A shit-ton of Aziraphale's papers for the audiobooks. Half a dozen memory jars between Aziraphale's and Soldat's.

In the end, it's one box of Crowley's stuff, another of Aziraphale's, two of Soldat's-- and only that many because they have to actually wear clothes rather than miracle them on, and use shampoo instead of magically fixing their hair-- and one very large trunk. Which would in fact look familiar to Misty, as the one Soldat punched open the very first time they met. It has been partially repaired: it closes again now, most of the way anyway.

Soldat handles the trunk. Their most precious things are in there. Also, it's really really heavy.

So, really, with a couple boxes floating and the sniper rifle slung over Soldat's back next to their lantern... they're only making one trip.

They shake their head a little at her question, trunk on the metal shoulder and final box under the other arm, so they can't shrug. "Haven't been. Not really."

II

[meridio]

Near one such outlying building, Somnus rounds the corner to the sight of Soldat and a fully unshuttered lantern with a peculiar look to it (not that he knows what that means). Even from the distance, it's obvious when one is searching for something in how one moves. Somnus approaches and makes noise with his last series of steps to alert Soldat of his oncoming approach.

"Hail, Soldat. What business do you have here?"

[worthallthis]

Glancing over their shoulder at the approach, Soldat lowers their lantern again, looking distracted and kind of unhappy. "Patrol." Well, sort of. They're only a little off-course. They don't usually come out to the metal garden and the shed.

In the spirit of honesty, they add, a little sheepish, "Also, looking for someone."

II/III – Combined-ish

[really_sketchy]

Naminé had first run into Bucky when he'd been frantically searching for Aziraphale. She knew him, though not terribly well. Aziraphale had promised to teach her to play the piano and had explained bits and pieces about music that she'd never heard of before as well as introduced the app to her. It felt wrong doing nothing and so promised to keep an eye out and to help look around the 'safer' areas of the island. She didn't want Soldat worrying about her when he had so much to worry about, so she kept her searches to the areas already lit with lanterns.

As the day's passed, she noticed Soldat spending more time in the church. The church was an odd place to her but ever since her first sketch she'd returned and used the space to think in the warm light of the candles there. It wasn't surprising to see Soldat there but something about it made her sad.

Today she had brought a small brown paper bag with her and her sketchbook, silently taking the seat next to Bucky as he worked. "How are you doing? I brought you something to eat. I wasn't sure if you were hungry." She had tried to make a grilled cheese but after burning it twice, she decided to just make two cheese sandwiches and bring two apples. She would eat the burnt ones so no food went to waste.

[worthallthis]

Aw, no, Naminé, don't eat burned sandwiches. At least give them to the spirits, they'll eat anything.

"Kiddo, I'm always hungry," Soldat says, sounding kind of subdued, but still with a little smile for her. She's kind, and it's nice to have company. They put the notebook on their knees aside, folding it shut. "Thanks. What'd you bring?"

V

[fjorgedinfire]

Soldat can only keep Fjord bed-bound for so long before the half-orc takes off under his own power to get some goddamn exercise and patrolling back under his belt. His own route is quiet enough, despite its general proximity to the water, but it's got a fair bit of overlap with Soldat's paths here and there.

Which makes it odd, when he doesn't see Soldat patrolling. Usually they'll pass each other every so often, but Fjord's pretty sure he hasn't seen the guy for a couple of days now.

It takes a little investigating, but eventually he finds out which house is Soldat's, and knocks politely on the door. It's a bit eerie, honestly; the dark he's gotten used to, even if he hates that he can't see for shit, but it's so quiet.

"Soldat? You in there?"

[worthallthis]

(Hey, they're not keeping him bed-bound. Just from fighting.)

Normally it wouldn't even be that bad: there's a clear hole in the snow in front of the porch where a torch once stood. It shines through the curtains on the windows, showing where it's been moved to at least.

There's silence for a moment, then the door opens. No sound of combat boots, because Soldat is only in socks-- and sweat pants, and like three layers of shirt. Their hair is coming out of the tie they'd half-heartedly put in it earlier. They look... not their greatest, actually. Kind of like they haven't left the cabin in a day or two. They push the mess of their hair out of the way wearily.

"Fjord. Yeah. Everything okay?"

II

[antiwhat]

Ellever's sitting at the piano in the community center, putting together a phrase in the spirit language to try and record, when she hears the familiar footfalls of Soldat enter the room. He's behind her at first, but she can glean a quick pace that might mean he isn't just on one of his patrols.

When she turns to greet him, the question is already in the air. Crowley.

She hasn't seen him in quite a while, and frowns thoughtfully.

"No, sorry, I haven't. Do you mean in general or this morning?"

[worthallthis]

"This morning. He's been sleeping for the past. Two months, almost." They wave off any potential concern. "It's a demon thing, I guess. Not like during the siege. Aziraphale said he's done it before. But he was gone from his bed. When I checked. Can't find him." And Aziraphale's name is on the bulletin. They can't help but think those two things are connected, and it makes them worry.

They look pretty clearly worried.

III

[savingthrows]

She pads into the church quietly late one evening. Her lantern is clipped to her belt securely, leaving her hands free. Eleven squints along the pews until she sees a familiar set of shoulders, then quietly moves over. She doesn't say anything as she slides into the pew near them, though she draws her feet up onto the bench with her.

On the backrest of the pew in front of them, she puts what she was holding tucked under one arm; an old fashioned, stuffled lion, protector of her blanket fort and flock of folded paper birds, guardian of memory malfunctions.

Lion is here on loan. Eleven knows that sometimes, other people need something more than you, at least for a while.

Once Lion is set securely, she holds up what she carried in her other hand to them. It's a cone of ice cream. Sometimes when people are sad, they don't eat well. Aziraphale brought food, sometimes. So Eleven brings them food, too. She holds it out with a kind but firm expression in her slightly puffy, red-rimmed eyes, like she held out pieces of candy once.

[worthallthis]

It's only after several careful blinks that Soldat manages not to actually start crying at the sight of the stuffed lion set in front of them, but it's a very near thing. Soldat knows where she keeps the toy they made her, knows it's a place someone might consider important, and knows it's a meaningful gesture to share. They accept Lion first, setting their notebook aside so they can tuck the soft toy in the crook of the flesh arm. Lion is safe to hug in the way people usually aren't, so long as it's not with metal that might pinch some of the fluff off.

Then the ice cream. Jesus, people and bringing them snacks. It's great, it really is. Even better, it's something sweet, and they haven't indulged in anything that wasn't high starch and high protein in a while. Far more than they deserve, that's for sure.

Eleven gets a small, warm smile, and because the word is important in this, a soft, "Thanks."

1.

[paletteswap]

That smell is something that can never be forgotten once it's been experienced. Rot. Decay. Sickly sweet and acrid and festering. He's smelled that more times than he wants to think about, the Netherrealm held horrors that should never be experienced, the least of which is a bottomless ocean of blood.

So he heads towards the boat, not with any real haste as the scent alone tells him what he'll find. Freezing himself a path on top of the lake out to the ferry, he climbs aboard not realizing that there's at least one living person on there.

Kneeling next to the remains of M.K. he turns abruptly upon seeing something move in the corner of his vision and narrowly avoids sending a barrage of icicles at Soldat. Sighing in relief that someone is very much alive, he stands up and gestures around, "What happened?"

As if maybe he'd know more than Kuai. Hoping that there was some answer that wasn't horrible.

[worthallthis]

The abrupt movement has Soldat automatically bringing their metal arm up like a shield for their head, but it comes back down quickly when Kuai stands instead of attacking. "Nothing. As far as I can tell. They're not-- they're not new passengers. They're us." They'd just come up from checking the cabins and spotted their own damn metal arm below, so. "Us" seems appropriate, here. "Warning. Or prank. But not actually a massacre."

III. I USED TO LIVE ALONE BEFORE I KNEW U (03/14-ish probably)

[arsarcanum]

And here we are, back again. Here we are, tell a friend. Sora's been doing the same thing Soldat was a week ago, cutting off patrols and taking his meals to go camp out at the church in his spare time, but at least most of his downtime activities are portable. Like this, right now - writing letters, taking notes on his memories, studying the reports to make sure he knows what he needs to ask Pluto for next. (He's not sure if he does, but he's got some guesses.)

Go on then. It's around the right time. Drop in any time you like, Soldat. Sora's waiting.

late 3/13 is his return date! :3

[worthallthis]

It's only as Sora is coming in for his second round of waiting that he'll spot the familiar brown hair near the front, just propping themselves up from where apparently they'd been sprawled out on their side on the pew. Even with Solis now revealed, apparently she still prefers to wait until the church is empty before dropping off the resurrected.

This was a slightly less peaceful return than the last time Soldat died. That had been painless, on the whole; quick. This one had been neither. Being eaten, dissolved by acidic spit inside the creature they'd been fighting was a brand fucking new experience, the first time they've ever died that way. And rather than hope that their death meant others would be safe, there was... anger. Guilt that their death meant more people would be hurt.

So the waking is less of a slow drift and more of a start, last memories being a jumble of pain, rage, and despair, popping up and looking around in confusion.

Waking up prone didn't help much, either. Church. It's the church. They're alive, it's the church, and-- they're starving. That didn't happen last time, either. They'd been not hungry, last time, in a conspicuous kind of way.

Oh no. The courthouse. Everyone else. Did anyone else survive? They half-turn, aiming to get up. Grab their lantern and tablet and surge to their feet and go charging out to see what happened, and fuck their empty stomach.

And there's Sora, just coming in.

you know what it is

[shadowsran]

He's had, by her estimate, a good twenty-four hours. Time to eat. Time to sleep. Time to reacquaint himself with his own strict routine, a beating heart, working lungs. Time enough that she can properly speak, now.

Bizarre, how setting a fork down in a particularly delicate way can make it feel like they're at a negotiation table. Start slow. Start even.

"Why did you do that."

yes, yes I do

[worthallthis]

It has been twenty-four hours of anxiety. Of waiting for punishment to fall. Of renewing grief over Aziraphale and Crowley, though today their hours at the church were... much reduced.... Of seeing people actually upset over the whole death thing. Of guilt. Of another stupid presence in their head to deal with.

It's almost a relief when she finally says something.

Looking firmly at the tabletop. Not shutting down. Not shutting down. Even if it's tempting. Even if it's halfway there. Misty won't hurt them, they trust this, but it's still. Hard. But Misty won't hurt them. (Except our goddamn heart. Own up to your fuck-ups, pal. Hander.)

"Had to destroy the spirits. They were dangerous. They hurt the Inspector and his lady friend. One knocked me out of my nest, and I had to protect Fjord. He was too close on the ground, spirit was coming too quick, couldn't waste the time to swap weapons." It's a lot of reasons. Sure. It's even some of the real reasons, so it's not a lie.

post resurrection

[policier]

( He doesn't linger for very long outside the church. Part of it is because of his injuries — his broken leg coupled the acid burns across his arms, hands, and torso. It's difficult to tell with his coat on, buttoned up to the collar,but there are bandages covering his skin, hidden beneath his shirt and his gloves. He doesn't dare to go inside, to take a seat in one of the pews and wait for Soldat to appear. He's not that desperate yet.

He does visit the house sometimes, though, search for signs that the other man may be alive. Each time, he knocks at the door, waiting for some sort of noise or greeting to answer him before returning in defeat to the Invincible. )

Open the damn door.

( He gruffs out, not caring at this point whether it may be Soldat, Aziraphale, or Crowley. At least he can take his anger out on the latter two. )

[worthallthis]

[The knock wouldn't have been enough. Soldat is stressed and upset, and has only just managed to get back from mandatory dinner at Misty's with Sora, to reassure the two of them they're all right. (Not all right. Jesus fuck, we are not all right. You're fine. Just hungry. Nobody asked you, you bottomless pit.) Ignoring the urge to find something to gnaw on, anything at all, is ignoreable. For now.

But the voice from outside is impossible to ignore, or to disobey. Soldat levers themselves off the couch and trudges to the door to open it.

They look about the same as they did when they died: tac vest with body armor, combat boots and pants, hair tied back neatly. They just also look tired and tense, guilty and unhappy. It's a whole damn lot of expression for them, actually.]

Sir.

a few days after the amusement park adventure

[notthatjason]

[Jason waits until most of the combat participants have left before approaching Soldat. It had taken him a little longer than he'd anticipated to make a drawing of a rhinoceros. For one, it was easier to remember something in his head than it was to draw it. So he'd had to go to the library for some research/reference pictures. Then, after some confusion with the Librarian and sorting out what horned animal he was actually looking for, it had taken awhile for him to get the picture just right.

So it wasn't exactly the NEXT combat practice since their journey with Sora and Misty to the park, but it was within that week of time.]

Hey, Soldat, do you have a second? I wanted to show you something.

[He's already pulling the sketchbook out from his bag. He'd torn it out already, but hadn't wanted to fold it in case that messed up the drawing.]

[worthallthis]

[This would be the second first set of classes since Aziraphale and Crowley disappeared, and Soldat is not... distracted, not anything that strong, their students and sparring partners get their full attention-- but they do seem a little more eager to get out of here than usual.

Still, Jason wanting to chat is worth a wait. They tilt their head, curious, at the piece of paper, but can't see what it is from this angle yet.]

Yeah. Everything okay?

[That's kind of their default question when people ask them for a second/minute/to look at something. Just in case it isn't okay and they need to help.]