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

Well, if he wasn't concerned before he sure as shit is now, and he follows Fjord inside, closing the door behind him to keep the chill out.

"Uh, sure-- just black's fine," he adds, looking around the room. He's not used to owning enough of anything to have required actually packing it, so he's a little bit confused. "Do you... live alone here?" It still seemed like too much stuff for one person, the house was huge from outside.

Soldat sets the kettle on to heat. There's no actual coffeemaker, because Aziraphale is old-fashioned that way and liked to steep his own coffee. Weirdo.

Gone weirdo. Not-coming-back weirdo. Soldat takes a moment to breathe, facing away from Fjord and leaning both palms on the countertop, before answering, voice flatter than usual: "Not for much longer. Used to have two people here. They're gone now. Can't stay in an empty house."

Seeing Bucky actually openly emote ~~more or less~~ is always a new and exciting experience for Fjord; too bad it's not more positive.

He's had enough of an explanation as to understand what 'gone' means here, and he moves up to Soldat to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Hey man, Soldat emotes all the time. It's just usually through being snarky or worried.

This is a pretty weird case from usual, though, he's right about that.

Soldat holds very still a moment under that hand, as if trying to determine if it's going to hurt somehow. They know, objectively, it's comfort, and it's not bad, but that doesn't stop a sizeable portion of their brain from wanting to flinch away. Finally they say, "Yeah. It. It sucks." To steal a word from Sora. It's a useful word. "Crowley and Aziraphale. You never met Crowley, he was asleep the whole past month and a half. Aziraphale was around, though."

And they duck as politely as they can away from Fjord's touch, feeling rotten about it but what can you do, with the excuse of getting the coffee beans and the cutting board they've been using for this purpose ever since discovering how handy the metal hand is at crushing things.

His hand hovers in the air for a moment, uncertainly, but he lets it drop back to his side. "Yeah. I met Aziraphale a couple days after I got here, 'fore all of that aurora shit happened." He'd seemed like a perfectly pleasant guy, too. It was hard to imagine that he was just. Not here anymore.

Soldat isn't escaping him that easily, but Fjord won't try and touch them again just yet. He just follows along, and leans on the kitchen counter while Soldat gathers his things. "You need anything there?"

You can hover, Fjord, that's okay. It's just the touch that's hard. "Filters, in the cupboard there. Mugs, in the one above your head." And they take the right number of beans for two cups of coffee into the metal hand, and close it tight with a mechanical whine from the gears inside. There's a series of crunches from inside the fingers. "Sorry I missed patrols. I'll be back to them tomorrow."

Once they're all moved in at Misty's.

He'll turn and grab the items from where Soldat points out, but he still watches his friend as he puts them down, and hears the weird crunching of the metal hand grinding the beans.

"I'm sure you know that missing patrols ain't actually the problem," he says, a touch dryly, but he sounds sincere again when he continues, "You seem pretty shaken up about them being gone."

Wait, it's not? Soldat takes a moment, fist still closed over crushed coffee beans, to process that. Then they finally tip the bean-bits down onto the cutting board for a little fine-tune smashing with one metal fingertip before brushing them into the filters to steeping. "They both came in together. On the same ferry I did. Crowley was my first handler-- he's not anymore," they add, because people never seem to like the handler protocols. Technician goes over almost as bad. "He was rotten at it and wanted to be friends, instead, after the whole fuck-up with the ferry."

Accepting the mugs, they pour the water in and let them both steep. "He called me 'human soldier person'. He's the one who invited me in to stay at their house. Aziraphale didn't like it much, at the time. But he got used to me. Aziraphale always called me 'dear'. It was weird but kind of sweet."

...quite honestly he's a little bit wary of Hand Coffee when he doesn't necessarily know how often Soldat washes it. Certainly they don't seem like they've been in a fit state to, if their dishevelled current look is any indication.

"Sounds like they really trusted you." He knows he isn't exactly eager to let random strangers bunk in his rooms. "Askin' you to help with trying something risky, getting you to live with them. They sound like good people."

That hand is shiny, buddy. Soldat keeps it in top condition. It's fine. The only thing it's been handling so far since their "morning" soak in the tub is papers and books, anyway. And now coffee.

They rinse it off now, since having coffee bean bits in the plates is gross, staring at the water as they answer.

"They are. Were. Good. Crowley would make a fuss every time I pointed out he cared about something. But it was always obvious. And Aziraphale tried things-- cooking, building, decorating. Helping. Never gave up even when he was terrible. That's brave, I think. They. Wanted to help me. Both of them."

Fjord is quiet for a few moments.

"I know someone like that. She was... real fuckin' relentless about seein' the better side of things and trying to bring that out in other people. Always wanting to help people." He shrugs one shoulder. "Seems like a real skill. Says a lot that they wanted to put the effort into you. They must've thought you deserved it. To be happy, an' all that."

That earns Fjord a little side-eye before the offering of the coffee mug. You're getting really focused on that "Soldat is worthwhile" stuff, there, buddy. They're not sure how to take it, to be honest. "They were good," Soldat says. "I don't know what that says about me. But I'm really going to miss them. And I can't stay in an empty house."

Maybe Fjord just places too much value in being useful to people and therefore being worthy of their attention and is projecting a bit, you don't know that.

"S'pose not," he muses in agreement. He wouldn't want to live in such a big house on his own, either. "You already got someone else lined up?"

Well, you're not wrong, there, Fjord. That is exactly a thing Soldat argued with Misty about after the whole "died" thing: the worth of someone when they aren't being useful. Soldat hasn't quite internalized that yet, and it makes Fjord's line of thinking a little uncomfortable.

"Misty. She helped heal people after." A jerky nod in the direction of Downtown's Everything. They've been filled in on everything that happened after their untimely demise. "I've stayed there before."

Fjord finally takes a drink of his coffee then. It's pretty good. You know, for hand coffee.

He shifts his weight and grimaces, just faintly, as fresh ribs twinge. "I remember her. Seems like her bedside manner leaves... something to be desired," he says, his tone just a little bit playful.

Soldat nods. "Sometimes. She's suspicious about people already. Then she was upset about me. Made it worse." They got their lecture about not being careful already. It had been harrowing, and resulted in a many-hour-long sojourn in the woods hitting things and yelling a lot. Well, that had been coming anyway, but that helped move it along.

Yeah that comment definitely has his mouth twisting in an open frown. "Yeah, she wasn't the only one. Sora seemed like he took it real hard when you and Alisaie weren't there with the rest 'f us."

He's quiet for a moment, twisting the mug in his hands. "And I'm... sorry I couldn't stop that fucker from getting you."

Edited 2020-03-13 02:35 (UTC)

"No." Soldat still isn't really into the eye contact thing, but he fixes Fjord's cheekbone with a solid glare. "No apologizing. I fucked up. Should've swapped to knives before it was too late, should've jumped out of that tree before it could hit you. I was protecting you and I failed." They transfer their glower to the coffee. "I'm a goddamn murder machine, I should be better than that."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't gotten fuckin' hit and popped some ribs back out of place, your perch would've been fine," he points out. But there's no venom, or even guilt to it, which makes more sense when he continues, "We can play hot potato with the blame for as long as you like, but you're still the one who died in the end. An' if Jason and Javert hadn't been so quick, I would've too."

That's the point. Soldat figures they should've been out of their perch, knives in hand, before the thing hit Fjord to begin with. It was a poor tactical decision to stay in their nest. But arguing about it seems stupid, and also takes energy. The glare slides off after a moment, into a kind of blank nothing-expression.

"I've died before. Many times. Not like I can't handle one more." This one is admittedly harder to shrug off, because they have frankly never died from being bitten into, swallowed, and then dissolved by acid before. Not even HYDRA scientists were that twisted. Doesn't help that it seems, to them, like their brain has been invaded by a hungry spirit. They're keeping it in check, right now. Possibly through not actually caring about being hungry at the moment.

Still. Better them than an actual person, anyway.

If Fjord heard that last thought he'd smack Soldat. As is, that comment gets a concerned look, before he continues.

"We did get 'em all, at least," he tells Soldat. "All three of the rat bastards that came out and attacked us."

Oh man, Fjord hasn't gotten the "I'm not a person" speech yet. That's a first, lasting this long without hearing that.

"Good... that's good. And you took them all out." A little tension goes out of their shoulders, and they finally have some of their own coffee, plucking the filter out to... uh, absently chew on. It's fine. It's just paper and coffee grinds, not gonna hurt anything. "Anything interesting in the courthouse itself?"

Just because it won't hurt him doesn't mean it's not weird as shit, and Fjord is thoroughly distracted from the actual question.

"Uhh..." He just. Stares. "...whaaat are you doing?"

Soldat almost answers, only to realize there's something in their mouth, and it's pretty strongly ingrained into them to not talk with their mouth full. Soldat is a polite murder machine. They chew one more time, to determine what the fuck is in their mouth, and... right. Okay. They consider briefly, with great embarrassment, the merits of swallowing versus actually picking the coffee filter out of their mouth. Which is more gross.

(~~Food. Eat.~~)

Down it goes. Sigh. Soldat looks mortified, but answers, "Sorry. That's. When you die, sometimes things come back. Fucked up. Daylight can't see the color yellow anymore. One guy here before I got here wound up with scales. Apparently now I want to eat everything. And I do, if I don't pay attention."

Fjord takes a long drink from his coffee at the sight of Soldat swallowing that, just so he has some time to process that himself.

"That... seems like it could be a real concern." At least he's not giving Soldat a pitying look. He's still just. Vaguely horrified, but now it's a lot more existential. How would he know if something changed about him if he died, apparently?

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