Donquixote Rosinante (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callada) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logsinthenight2021-02-04 07:12 pm
callada) wrote in logsinthenight2021-02-04 07:12 pm
Entry tags:
Jan-Feb catch-all for Rosinante (OTA)
characters: Rosinante, OTA
location: Harbor, scrapyard, library, Solis' lab, wildcard at me
date/time: January 25-February 5
content: Working on pet projects, collecting supplies, planning an expedition and trying to keep warm.
warnings: n/a
1. there's an arbor of distant ringing bells
Out at the scrapyard, Rosinante hacks away with a hammer at ice covering the ropes of the boat that he and a few others have been working on repairing. It's looking in pretty good shape now, actually - except that the last month of snow and freezing weather means there's no water to even get that boat out onto if they managed to drag it to shore.
Ice shatters and rattles on the deck, and chained not too far off, the scrapyard dog is howling and barking to join in the noise. There's nothing much to be gained here from what Rosinante is doing, he's just frustrated. All this work, and for what?
2. there are figures on the shore
Their little group might have dwindled down to almost nothing, but the few who remain have gotten very good at what they do. They work as a team, the lab regulars, and this cold February day proves it - the supplies are good, and nothing ended up out on the frozen surface of the lake, or hung up in trees.
Rosinante has a makeshift sled from a piece of scrap metal and rope, and at the harbor he stacks boxes onto it with gloved hands, but the lantern shows the blue tint to his pale face under all those warm clothes. It is cold out here, colder than any day on the North Blue he experienced in life, and no number of layers is enough of a solution.
"Hey," he calls out. "Help me with these!"
Doesn't sound like a request, though he's not going to chase down anyone who ignores him, but he's starting to wonder if he still has toes.
3. at the laundromat they're whispering of war
Time to see if the map that the spirit had pointed out to him before has anything marked on it that relates to the missile silo in the dead soldier's journal. Rosinante trudges into the library, and sighs in relief that even though it's cold in here, at least it's not that bone-threatening chill.
When he reaches to pull the book out from the shelf, another book catches on it somehow. He doesn't seem to notice as he tugs, and suddenly he causes a thunderous avalanche of paper. He yelps as he's thrown to the floor under the weight of reference volumes.
A hand reaches upward through the pile. Legs stick out at the other end. He's breathing, but winded from the blow to his poor dented lantern. Distantly, the librarian floats a "sssssh!!!" over the cold air in his direction.
"Mmph... sorry..."
4. hold, hold, hold your ground
As the temperature continues to drop daily, Rosinante finds one of the warmer places in town is the lab. All of the equipment inside puts off a lot of heat, and the ground insulates it well. Again and again it becomes clear just how well-planned Dr. Solis' life had been before she made her last critical mistake.
When he's not looking over Will's shoulder and trying to learn about computers and plutonium from their very attractive resident genius, he finds himself curled up on the floor in Dr. Solis' study reading through her collection of books, or sometimes he brings over treats for the others who spend time there. Today, he's restocking the kitchen of the little living space with coffee and tea from the general supplies, and already has the kettle going.
"Want a cup?" he asks, if you come through - but if he finds you sitting at a computer or poking around in the sample archive, he'll just hand you a mug with whatever your usual is, steaming hot.
"Here. You look like you could use this."
5. wildcard
Have an idea? Go for it, I'm not your mom.
location: Harbor, scrapyard, library, Solis' lab, wildcard at me
date/time: January 25-February 5
content: Working on pet projects, collecting supplies, planning an expedition and trying to keep warm.
warnings: n/a
1. there's an arbor of distant ringing bells
Out at the scrapyard, Rosinante hacks away with a hammer at ice covering the ropes of the boat that he and a few others have been working on repairing. It's looking in pretty good shape now, actually - except that the last month of snow and freezing weather means there's no water to even get that boat out onto if they managed to drag it to shore.
Ice shatters and rattles on the deck, and chained not too far off, the scrapyard dog is howling and barking to join in the noise. There's nothing much to be gained here from what Rosinante is doing, he's just frustrated. All this work, and for what?
2. there are figures on the shore
Their little group might have dwindled down to almost nothing, but the few who remain have gotten very good at what they do. They work as a team, the lab regulars, and this cold February day proves it - the supplies are good, and nothing ended up out on the frozen surface of the lake, or hung up in trees.
Rosinante has a makeshift sled from a piece of scrap metal and rope, and at the harbor he stacks boxes onto it with gloved hands, but the lantern shows the blue tint to his pale face under all those warm clothes. It is cold out here, colder than any day on the North Blue he experienced in life, and no number of layers is enough of a solution.
"Hey," he calls out. "Help me with these!"
Doesn't sound like a request, though he's not going to chase down anyone who ignores him, but he's starting to wonder if he still has toes.
3. at the laundromat they're whispering of war
Time to see if the map that the spirit had pointed out to him before has anything marked on it that relates to the missile silo in the dead soldier's journal. Rosinante trudges into the library, and sighs in relief that even though it's cold in here, at least it's not that bone-threatening chill.
When he reaches to pull the book out from the shelf, another book catches on it somehow. He doesn't seem to notice as he tugs, and suddenly he causes a thunderous avalanche of paper. He yelps as he's thrown to the floor under the weight of reference volumes.
A hand reaches upward through the pile. Legs stick out at the other end. He's breathing, but winded from the blow to his poor dented lantern. Distantly, the librarian floats a "sssssh!!!" over the cold air in his direction.
"Mmph... sorry..."
4. hold, hold, hold your ground
As the temperature continues to drop daily, Rosinante finds one of the warmer places in town is the lab. All of the equipment inside puts off a lot of heat, and the ground insulates it well. Again and again it becomes clear just how well-planned Dr. Solis' life had been before she made her last critical mistake.
When he's not looking over Will's shoulder and trying to learn about computers and plutonium from their very attractive resident genius, he finds himself curled up on the floor in Dr. Solis' study reading through her collection of books, or sometimes he brings over treats for the others who spend time there. Today, he's restocking the kitchen of the little living space with coffee and tea from the general supplies, and already has the kettle going.
"Want a cup?" he asks, if you come through - but if he finds you sitting at a computer or poking around in the sample archive, he'll just hand you a mug with whatever your usual is, steaming hot.
"Here. You look like you could use this."
5. wildcard
Have an idea? Go for it, I'm not your mom.