logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BOTTOM OF THE RIVER

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: BOTTOM OF THE RIVER

characters: everyone.
location: everywhere.
date/time: april 15-30.
content: preparation begins, and rain falls.
warnings: n/a. please cw tags appropriately.

an early warning: april 15-17

When someone goes to check the readings at the weather station in mid-April, they notice something - an immense low-pressure system incoming in just a few short days. Looks like rain on the horizon, although it isn’t immediately clear how long it will last or how much will fall - but it seems like spring has come to Beacon, and April showers bring May flowers, right?

Better get to work.

into the water: april 18-30

Thick clouds obscure the light from the stars. The air grows thick with humidity, and soon, showers begin to fall. It’s gentle at first - a pleasant sound as the drops hit the earth and tap out patterns on the roofs.

This only lasts an hour or two before the heavens seem to open up, letting loose sheets of pounding rain that make it hard to see more than twenty feet ahead of you. The sound is immense and deafening, and you find yourself shouting over the noise as you scramble to make the last of your modifications, find your friends, and take shelter.

Within days, the water falling constantly off of the edges of the rooftops has begun to dig trenches in the soil, and the river swells and overtakes its own banks. Town becomes a moving stream of water that threatens to knock you over and take you with it, and entire sections of Beacon are cut off from each other as you find yourself unable to cross the former banks of the rivers even through flight. Torches get swept away, bridges collapse, and buildings begin to crumble.

Were you prepared?

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"A lot of people don't believe me. I get arguments about it all the time. That's okay, I'm used to it." (Yeah, like from me. No. Shut up, you two.) They shrug a little, and move very readily to the second comment. "You're welcome, though. Since my job isn't to kill people anymore. I'd really rather protect them. I'm glad I could be there to protect you."

"I'm glad, too. I can't swim. To say nothing of the furniture and the initial wave in the first place..." She eyes the bottom of the stairs. As far as she can hear, it's still a whirl of hell down there. She's glad she left her lantern in the room with most of the fresh food supply and not down there.

She considers a moment. "If you won't believe that you're a whole person. How about believing you're a shield now instead of a weapon?"

Yeah the water is still pretty wild down there. It might calm down... in a while... but it's not there yet. Soldat is keeping a sliver of attention on it, for safety purposes. If it gets much higher it's going to start tugging on their boots again, and they'd rather not deal with that.

(Shield. Seriously. A shield? That's Steve, not-- us. No. ... was that agreement or disagreement. No.) Soldat does consider it seriously a moment. "It's a very nice thought," they decide. "There was someone. My last target, and also my best friend from Before. He used a shield. Used it offensively and defensively, both."

Pudding's jaw goes a little slack, and she can't help staring at Soldat a moment. Last target and also best friend.

Gods, is Soldat here entirely to poke her in the ribs and make her squirm?

She can't help a short bark of a laugh, though it's very much not at the other, before bringing the back of her hand up to press against her mouth.

Give her a second.

"You know, I wouldn't have thought you and I were that much alike, but I guess that goes to show how much you can tell on the surface, doesn't it?" Wow. "My last target was the first friend I made in a very long time." If she's allowed to call him that much. She hopes so.

"So, he used a shield for both. Couldn't you do just the same thing with a sword?"

They give her a second. They look kind of baffled at her reaction, at least until she explains. Then they... continue to look baffled, but in a more surprised way. "Oh. That. Sure is a coincidence, ain't it. Steve knew me from Before. Still not sure how he managed it. It'd been like seventy years. I didn't know him-- didn't remember."

The question makes a small smile. "And we didn't really use swords. Or shields, but Steve was weird, I guess. Mostly we used guns. He had one of those, but didn't use it much."

Before and seventy years are intriguing as hell - but they're something to come back to. Right now, she's more concerned with whether the man who saved her life thinks he's a person or not.

So Pudding sticks out her tongue, teasing. "Swords, shields, guns, armor. Don't be so literal. What I mean is... you can do either-or, with any of them. You're not what's left of a weapon. You just have a different purpose now."

She blinks, then laughs softly at herself.

"Listen to me, talking like an authority on the subject. I should probably take my own advice first."

Soldat does have a tendency towards literal interpretations of things. They look vaguely abashed at being called out on it, eyes sliding further to one side and small smile going a little sheepish. "All right, maybe. I do have a new purpose now." Protect. Crowley gave them that one all inadvertently, Javert reinforced it, and it's stuck pretty well.

But she said she had to take her own advice, so that clearly means he needs to ask: "Do does that mean you have a new purpose now, too?"

Pudding rolls that one around in her head for a moment. Tries out different places to look while staring at nothing; reaches up absently to wring the water from her hair.

"I think I have to, but... I don't really know what it is."

Seeing that, Soldat is reminded of the water in all their clothes, and that Pudding must be awfully cold up there. They start to pick themselves up, climbing over the sandbags piled at the top-- and aren't they glad they did that, now, with water up to the third to last step. Their own hair could use a wringing, honestly. "Well. You don't have to decide now. But I'm sure you'll find a good one. I did. Let me get you a towel, yeah?"

Pudding blinks up at him, looking as surprised as she feels.

She... doesn't have to decide now?

But isn't everyone supposed to just... know?

"I - yes, thank you." She'll just respond to the offer of a towel for now, continuing to squeeze her hair down toward the ends, occupy herself. Look busy.

She's a teenaged girl. (Sorry, Pudding; they had three sisters and dated around extensively from high school through being drafted, they can guess how old she is more accurately than "early 20s".) Teenaged girls shouldn't have their purpose worked out anyway. She's still not even fully an adult yet.

There's a moment's hesitation as they pass her, and a very brief touch of flesh fingers to the top of her head-- Soldat can absolutely use their body to protect her, carry her through a flood and up stairs, but voluntarily touching anyone is still hard, especially after this wild ride of a conversation; but it seems appropriate, so they push themselves for it. Then they continue on down to the room at the top of the stairs they've been using as a common room. There's stacks of linens in there for just this kind of situation.

They're back in short order, with two towels for her, and one for them. Also, having left their sopping coat to hang by the torch, leaving them with only two layers of wet shirt to wring, and their long tail of hair.

Nowhere near as long as hers, though. Hence two towels for her. "Here. You'll feel better when you're warm and dry. Maybe with some cocoa or soup?" Soup is great for stretching ingredients, and it's not like they're short on water.

Pudding doesn't expect the touch. At all. Not from Soldat. She avoids getting too far inside his space when they cook, whereas at home she's used to the kitchen being at minimum brushing elbows and touches of flour-covered fingers while passing bowls. It doesn't take a lot to notice, not for someone like her, where looking is the thing she does best, better even than acting. The space he maintains around himself, way he so effortlessly moves away from contact, the tension when he doesn't have an egress. Two minutes, tops, was all the observation she needed to know that flirtation and idle touches were not how to get into this one's good graces, putting it mildly.

So when it comes, she blanks. Doesn't quite freeze - not so much tension as that - but her fingers still, and her eyes widen slightly, and goosebumps race across her scalp.

Did she - did she earn that?

She doesn't move until he's past her, and then leans forward to watch him down the hall. Wh. What.

What.

She leans back when he steps out of sight, staring into space with her eyes still a little wide. With her heart thundering. Not from fear, like minutes ago. Not anything like what she felt for Sanji, no. More like... more like when she'd catch a smile at the corner of Katakuri's eyes. Or when Lola, before she ran off chasing dreams, would praise her chocolate. But Soldat's no family member, no older sibling.

Is this... what friendship is supposed to feel like?

She's feeling no less dumbfounded when he returns, and at first, she takes the towels silently, wrapping one immediately over her shoulders for warmth. It can do its drying job second. But she can't help but smile when he continues, laughter soft but there in her voice as she starts on her hair with the second towel. "You start on the soup, and I'll make us some of my good cocoa, hm?"

Good division of labor. And they need to to get a big pot of communal stew started, anyway, since it's clear they're going to be stuck here for a while. And Pudding does indeed make pretty good cocoa. So they smile, let her pick herself up-- done with touch, sadly, no matter how rude not offering the girl a hand up would be-- and say, "Sounds good. Should be plenty of room in there for both of us."

Soldat will worry about collecting any final loose cans from below once she's settled, and they've got the stew cooked for everyone.

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EVENT LOG: BOTTOM OF THE RIVER

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