logsinthenight | Losing Family [Catch-all Log

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, mostly before, handlers just mostly let them bleed and then slung them into cryo, and they'd come out in one piece. But here:]

Yes. That's one reason I've gotten pretty good at it. Though magic healing doesn't bother me. So Misty and Sora have been very helpful.

[And Crowley and Aziraphale. Who are now gone. Point is, there's options here. They get by.]

( He's silent for several moments, uncertain of what to say, or how to react beyond that of his initial outrage. Comfort is still a difficult thing for him, and he and Soldat are not so close for him to attempt it. He fumbles for a moment, trying to searchsomething to say to him, before finally answering sternly, )

I will ask it of you, then. The burden may fall onto me, if no one else wishes for it.

[It's okay. Comfort is for Misty and Sora. Javert offering it would probably be weird. Besides, this is a normal thing. They're used to working around their problems with doctors.]

We can ask. There's a lot of people here. Some of them might like to learn. Might be learning already, just not told you or me.

[Probably some kind of network post. Ugh.

Ironic conversation, almost, given the later events of the month and the Wild Hunt coming to try and teach people field medicine. Not enough, but a start.]

( Every time Javert experiences an emotion, it's nothing short of unbearable. How do normal people live like this? He doesn't know. )

That is true, but would anyone take charge of it? Before you came, there were two medics that began a clinic inside the church. We have not had such a thing since, even though we desperately need it.

( It's a bit of an ironic conversation, too, knowing that they'll soon discover the hospital. Perhaps that will be the beginning of something, or maybe it won't. )

Don't know. Won't until we ask.

[Until then, field medicine and magic spells are just going to have to cut it. They pause, tilt a questioning look in Javert's direction.]

Who had the clinic?

Two soldiers, both of whom perished during the lighthouse expedition.

( He falls silent a moment, not mourning the loss of their lives necessarily, but considering it. Many of those who died in the first attack by the spirits were fools, but those two men were not. )

One of them served in the Second World War, the other in the First. It is a shame you could meet them.

Oh. I would have liked to meet them, yeah.

[Imagine the things they could have talked about. The things Soldat could have learned, re-learned, or remembered. They look a little wistful at the idea.]

How many people were lost, then? I know there were a lot.

Twenty six.

( He answers evenly, without inflection or sadness. As terrible as the situation had been, it seemed to be exactly what their group had needed at the time. Javert himself had been quite listless before, patrolling the streets at all hours of the night. He ate only the barest amounts of food, because he didn't feel as if he deserved anything better. Javert looks down at the papers in his hands, crinkling them absently. )

Now is not the time to discuss this. We will lose quite a few more before our time is up.

[More. Like Crowley and Aziraphale. Soldat stares a long moment at their own papers.]

Sir. I know you can't... promise. But please try. Please try not to be one of them.

( It's a fortunate thing that the other isn't looking at him. Javert doesn't know if he could bear it, feeling his chest tighten and his head hanging low. He almost feels as if he's being mocked, having this conversation so soon after promising the same to Rosalind. He never once considered that anyone would care. No one ever has before, save for Valjean. There's a long, dreadful moment of silence as he attempts to compose himself, his voice even, )

I will try. ( He says, and he means it. ) So long as you do the same.

[They know about Javert and expression emotions. They're patient. Chewing a little on the inside of their cheek while they wait, but patient. And sigh a little at the answer.]

I will. There's nowhere else I'd want to be.

[Beacon may be hard, but it's where their people are. This is where everything and everyone that matters is. Taking that for the reassurance it is, they focus back on sorting Aziraphale's papers.]

( For me as well, he almost says, before catching himself at the last moment. It's far too much for him to admit, although it wouldn't be the first time he's admitted to caring more than he should. There's nothing left for him in Paris. He doesn't have much by way of possessions, nor does he have any family or friends.

Here, at least, he has a duty, and he plans to see it through to the end. After that, his only wish is that he will finally be laid to rest. He sorts through the papers quietly, laying them into two stacks before acquiring a pile of books and doing the same.

He does this for quite some time, drinking his coffee intermediately, even though he insisted that he didn't want it. Once done, he looks up at Soldat and says, )

I will take these things to the library. Is there anything else you wish to be rid of?

Some of the extra bedding is going back to the general store, but it's still in the wash. Sora is coming to help me move it later.

[Soldat puts the last of their own stack of "keeping" papers into a waiting box, and looks up at Javert.]

Thank you for your help, sir. I appreciate it.

It is no hardship.

( He answers, his voice becoming a little more gruff to mask his embarrassment. He takes his cane in hand and the stack of books, walking stiffly over toward the door. )

As I said, there is little else for me to do. It will be a relief when I return to regular patrols.

[Soldat opens the door for him, since clearly his hands are full. They're used to Javert's expressions of emotions. Gruff isn't a bad thing.]

I understand. I'd probably be going mad if I couldn't do something for so long. You'll be back to work soon, I'm sure of it.

( He steps through the threshold with his coat buttoned up to the chin, his gloves and his hat. The days may be growing warmer, but Javert will not sacrifice his dignity for comfort. When he is out on the streets, he will exude respect, donned in the ensemble of a policeman. He turns as he steps down from the porch, his expression calm. )

Bonsoir, Soldat.

Losing Family [Catch-all Log - Open]

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