logsinthenight | Losing Family [Catch-all Log

Entry tags:

Losing Family [Catch-all Log - Open]

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He won't have seen the little ghost before unless he snuck upstairs into the bedrooms. It had been Crowley's, a gatcha prize, and stayed in the demon's room. With the demon gone, it had gotten lonely, or... something. And started following Soldat around, instead, whenever they're in the cabin.

Sora can snack on a mix of nuts, cereal, and dried fruit, there's a bunch of that. Soldat keeps it for patrols when it's cold and they need the calories, or when they want to treat a forest spirit into being friendly. Soldat themselves is going to make some pasta, filling a pot to set to boil. Also a kettle, for cocoa.

The question earns a little shrug. Translation: nope.

He'll snag a handful, but it's mostly for something for his hands to do instead of fidget into destroying something. Hm. A no, huh? That's not great. Plenty of food, at least. If they haven't been eating, they at least have the opportunity.

He watches the ghost bob along. A new friend, maybe. He wonders if it has a name. "I'm staying here until my patrol tomorrow. Naminé said she might come around later once I'm gone. Is that okay?"

They pause a beat, then some of the hunch comes out of their shoulders. The prospect of not being alone until morning-- well, 0500 when they have their own first patrol, that's "morning"-- loosens words, a little. Enough to warn: "I get up early." When they sleep, anyway. Since they haven't been sleeping lately they haven't been getting up at all.

There we go. Sora hunches over the counter, happily popping nuts and dried fruit in his mouth. "That's okay. I sleep like a log." And he'll sleep much better if he knows that they got some shut eye, even if it's not terribly long.

He thinks for a moment, then slips off his chair, padding into the living room to pick up his bag one handed, still munching away as he opens it and rummages around inside for something. He eventually comes up with a small roll of sturdy craft wire and two pairs of pliers before coming back.

"What are you cooking?" He sits at this kitchen island and sets his things down. There's a small bent mass of wire at the end of the spool that he picks up and begins to shape around with his hands.

That answer doesn't require words. Soldat just pulls a container of penne pasta out of the cupboard and gives it a little shake. This. This is what they're cooking. Along with vegetables and meatballs, because meals need to be complete.

Vegetables that they have to chop up and simmer a bit into the sauce, which they set about doing while waiting for the water to boil. A sliver of attention stays on Sora, watching what he's doing out of the corner of one eye. The hell is he even making?

"Nice," Sora says. He'd offer to help, and he'll probably get up and do something for them if he sees that they're trying to multi-task, but he's content to work in parallel right now. He knows by now that Soldat loves company and he knows he's welcome in their space, but there's still that little crack of self-doubt in him somewhere. He doesn't know them as well as he think he does. He has to give it time. Can't mess up, or else. (Or else what?)

"I never told you about the memories Naminé put back in my head last week, did I?" He looks at his current work, picks up the pliers, and begins to carefully twist a teardrop shaped loop into the wire. "Stop me if you don't want me talking about it, but I have a lot more stories to tell."

Voices are soothing. There's many reasons Soldat likes having Sora around, and the potential for endless, amiable chatter that they don't always have to contribute to is one of them. They wave the knife in Sora's direction, a clear beckoning kind of gesture. Give them your stories, Sora. Fill the silence for them, while they chop vegetables and meat to fry up and add to the pasta.

Nice. "Okay, so I'm going to tell you about the mermaid stuff, because the mermaid stuff? There was so much of it." So off he goes, telling the soldier about a little redheaded mermaid called Ariel! (If he needs to stop and explain what a mermaid is, he will. He will also point out that it's kind of weird that his little sister's called Arielle, but figures that and their shared peppy princessy rebelliousness is where the similarities end.)

It's an adventure entirely underwater, Donald was a half octopus and Goofy was a turtle? And Sora had a dolphin tail! They could all breathe and swim around like it was perfectly natural. He even remembers that he was there twice - once when he was fourteen, and once a year later. (The second trip was basically the plot of the Little Mermaid.) He had to beat up the same sea witch twice! The second time, Prince Eric rammed a ship right into her heart, which was both kind of gross and really metal.

"Remember that song I sing whenever I get really stressed out? The one about seaweed and dancing?" He looks at his little tangle of wire, which now has four teardrop shaped loops. He sets it on his palm and... very carefully sets the whole thing on fire, heating up the metal. Hey, if there's no danger of burning the house down, right? "That's where it was from. Princess Ariel was supposed to be in a concert, but she was trying to have adventures with us at the same time. We used concert practice time to go to the surface to check things out, but that meant we had to at least pretend we were learning the songs."

Sora does not, in fact, have to explain what a mermaid is. Somehow or nother, Soldar knows that much. They even kind of have a vague understanding of where that second visit is going, as if they'd been told the story before, only the ending takes them by surprise, as if it was actually supposed to be something else. Something less happy maybe? Weird.

By the time the story is done, dinner is just about finished, though it stalls out briefly when Soldat has to stare at the fucking flaming metal on Sora's palm. Doesn't that hurt, kid?? It's one thing to touch hot things with a metal palm, but Sora's palms are not his cyborg parts. The lack of actual signs of pain-- Sora may or may not have a healing factor, but as far as Soldat's ever recognized, no real urge to hide pain, nor over-active pain tolerance-- let them get back to pouring the sauce over the pasta. But only just barely.

Still, the actual voiced question, when it comes, after Soldat has set a bowl in front of Sora with pasta-mix and warm toasted bread, is not related to the story. "What are you making?"

Key word is carefully. Yeah, it's gonna sting a little, and Sora will wince eventually, but once it gets hot enough, he extinguishes the flames with a casing of magical ice, which immediately makes the whole thing hiss into steam. Then he puts that little chunk of ice on the counter, getting the pliers in hand to cut the wire sticking from the ice.

"Wayfinder." Sora realizes this means nothing to Soldat, but he's making sure this cuts away cleanly. "It's, um. A lucky charm. From the islands. I've never made one before, so I'm trying to see what works."

It's a nice name. Something for finding ways. Soldat sets their (larger, more full) bowl on the table at the seat opposite Sora's, and settles into the chair there. They don't eat, though, still frowning at Sora's hand and then at the icy curls of metal. "If you just burned your hand doing that. I ain't gonna be best pleased."

Sora looks at his hand while feeling around for his share of pasta with the other. A little red, but no blisters this time. "All good. I don't really, uh, have a better way to figure out if it's hot enough. I'll get the timing down and then I won't have to do it like this anymore." He could also just, like, do timed test runs, but this way is faster. Or something. Listen, no one ever asked Sora for help in the brains department, okay? "Got plenty of time to figure it out. They're gonna be Christmas presents."

Soldat holds up their metal hand and bends the fingers with a pointedly loud mechanical noise, while looking equally pointedly in Sora's direction. Remember this, Sora? This thing that can gauge temperature exactly when touching something, and which they use to touch hot things all the time? Why risk yourself when there's a perfectly good alternative right the fuck there? Christ.

"Got a long time until Christmas." No no point to rushing and rising himself.

"It's a Christmas present for you," Sora says, making a face. "And, well, for everyone else, but you're getting one too. I have to do this by myself! Or, well, I'd have to make yours by myself, but if I figure that out, then I'd have everyone else's figured out."

He's over making Christmas presents a surprise - years of living with a caring but mostly disparate family with no illusions about Santa Claus will do that to a guy - but he still fervently believes in the act of giving a gift itself with all of the tradition to go with it. After getting Halloweentown and Christmastown back last week? Yeah, no going back on that.

... ugh. Fine. They understand the desire to make gifts themselves. They spent a few weeks being secretive and busy making gifts, themselves, in the run-up to last Christmas. The looks on their friends' and handlers' faces when given their gifts had been well worth it.

But they can't back down entirely. Sora doesn't have a healing factor. "Then wear gloves," Soldat says sternly. "And take it slow. You got nine more months until Christmas. You got time."

"Yes, dad," Sora says drily, but relents. There are probably some heavier gloves at the general store, right? Either that or he can trade for them at the thrift store, or ask Rastus for them. Plenty of options.

Sora picks up his fork and begins shoving food in his mouth. Good as usual. "Gotta start early. Give myself plenty of chances to mess up. Besides, if I get 'em done early... you guys can have them early too." He doesn't have any illusions about not doing something stupid and accidentally dying in the next year. He'd like to make sure these get done before something happens to him.

Dude, say that out loud. We fuckin' dare you. See what happens if you even suggest to Soldat that you might die.

"Then what will you do for Christmas," Soldat points out. They start in on their own meal, looking kind of like they're not even tasting it, which is unusual, given Soldat generally enjoys eating. At this point they're just focused on calories, not flavor, too distracted to even really care what they're eating. The only reason they made something nice tonight was for Sora.

And, because they're curious: "Do they really help people find ways?"

That'll be a conversation that comes up sooner of later. He makes it no secret that he considers himself pretty disposable! Just give it some time.

Sora stares. Given their dynamic, he's not sure if he should point out that things usually taste better when you slow down enough to taste them, especially since he also has a tendency to hoover meals up at times. "I'll think of something else. I like giving presents."

Sora tilts his head from side to side at the second question. "Back on the islands, it's a tradition for folks on shore to make them for sailors. They're supposed to help them find their way home, even if they get shipwrecked or something." He looks up at them. "Nothing magical about them, anyone can make one. So, on one hand, it's a superstition."

He looks back down at his ice chunk again, thoughtfully putting food in his mouth. "On the other hand, sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that someone's waiting for you to come back. That can help you find your way home too, if you wanna get technical."

Edited (grammar AND me forgetting whole phrases) 2020-03-10 00:03 (UTC)

Well, Soldat can understand that. They, too, like giving presents. They've got no idea what they're going to do for next Christmas yet, but thankfully there's nine months still to think about it. Hopefully the number of people they care about doesn't continue to balloon the way it has in the past six months, or they'll have to spend a lot more time putting those gifts together.

The description does make them pause in their own meal-hoovering-- though they're not eating super-fast exactly, just mechanically, with clear distraction-- to actually consider, then smile a bit. First smile of the visit, even if it's small. "Yeah. It can."

If only Aziraphale or Crowley had one-- and oh, damn, there goes the smile. It falls off again into something more sad, and they go back to shoveling in food.

The plastic ghost is drifting again, from where it had come to rest on the kitchen floor after Sora arrived. It bumps into Sora's food, plastic chains rattling a little.

Yeah, it figures. It's difficult to be in a place where death can come so easily and quickly, and it must be doubly difficult to handle it if you've only recently come to terms with the enormity of death itself. Most people had to deal with death at the door. Soldat... probably needed some time.

Sora's going to eat slowly, enjoying the food and poking a little at the ghost. "Hey. You're a little friend, right? You can eat some, if you like."

He eats thoughtfully for a moment, watching them go at their food without much commentary. Nutrition versus quality of life is having a duel upstairs at the moment.

"It's a superstition," Sora reminds them gently. "It doesn't always work. Like the paopu fruit." Like friendship. Hey, what is friendship but a mass hallucination of closeness, anyway?

Soldat doesn't look up from their bowl. "It doesn't eat. I've tried. Pet the top of its head, instead."

And... they know it's superstition. The bit they'd reacted to was how it reminded people to come back. With something to remind them of their soldier, maybe it would have been enough to keep them from running off and getting killed. "I know," they say, voice low, poking at the food a moment rather than eating it.

Huh? Sora looks down at the little ghost... then will obediently pat it on the head with a finger. That's really nice. Like a pet. Like Zero. (Sora remembers Zero now. Faithful companion to Jack, King of Halloween Town. It's nice.)

Sometimes, the thought isn't enough, either. Sora thinks for a moment, wondering if he should say that or not. If it'll help here in the moment.

"You did what you could," is what he decides to say. "The rest is just gonna take some time." No matter how this ends up shaking out.

The little plastic ghost apparently has springs in it, because it actually bobbles with the pet. Then, apparently satisfied, it disappears under the table.

Soldat just sighs, and props their head up on the metal hand, cheekbone to fist, not yet having another bite but staring at the bowl as if not quite seeing it. Looks pretty human for a murder machine. "I. Don't think they're coming back," they admit quietly. "Not after this much time. Gonna give it another day or two, but."

But. It's been ten days since Aziraphale's bulletin notice. Three since Crowley's, but Crowley had clearly been gone the same amount of time. Surely dead close to as long.

(And then they're gonna go get killed the day they give up. And after that, have their three days of breakdown and packing. Timeline has been established.)

Adorable!! Sora will actually follow it a little, just to see where it went, but Beacon's darkness swallows it up pretty fast. Aw. He sits his ass back at the table, hoping it'll come back.

Sora feels sick for them. He'd only ever really talked to Aziraphale a few times, and Crowley only a couple, but that... hurts. For Soldat to lose his closest friends in one go like that... That really hurts.

That's happened to Sora once. Every single one of his friends. Gone.

"What happens after that," Sora asks quietly. There has to be a plan. For after. (Apparently, people do that. Have a plan for after. He trusts that Soldat has one. Maybe.)

(Sora would be upset to know about the death plans, but he would be an enormous hypocrite to be angry about it.)

(Thankfully, dying is not actually the plan. Soldat has only ever been actively suicidal once, and it was a very very long time ago. The plan is to kill things that need killing. The dying is an accident.)

"I don't know yet. Probably cry. I do that a lot lately. I'll have to deal with their things. I have a box of Scarlett's things under my bed. I'll do the same with theirs." It sounds like utter misery, staying in this house alone.

The ghost is behind the couch now. It'll come out when it wants more attention.

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rushing and HURTING himself, can't even blame the phone for that one

you know, i was wondering about that....... it's okay tho we gucci

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