John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-07-02 12:33 pm
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ph_logs2024-07-02 12:33 pm
none of my pain and woe can show through (July Catch All)
Who: John Rambo (theydrewfirstblood) & YOU! (Mostly. Couple closed starters below.)
What: July catch all for Da Hollow's Favorite Commando(TM)
When: Throughout July
Where: Baker Ranch, Temple of the Sacred Roots, Forest--all around, really
Warning(s): canon typical nonsense: war, violence, PTSD, police brutality, will continue to warn in comment subjects as I go, with extra warnings for coping with mental illness (PTSD, anxiety, depression), nothing graphic or disturbing but I know if I'm going through it, reading about it doesn't always help so take your measure and know ILU.
but my dreams, they aren't as empty (Ranch, ota)
After what happened among the cultists, learning about this eldritch bullshit...dying, coming back...
The tiny gold leaf he was clutching when he came back to himself remains in his pocket at first. He's got plans for it, and they all involve keeping the fucking thing on him at all times. He doesn't want to lose it, doesn't want to leave it laying around...doesn't want to be this irrational and paranoid about potentially letting one of the boys find it around the house.
That whole deal, the whole mess...John doesn't want it to touch them, even incidentally. He hasn't really talked about it with them, save to say that he wasn't in any shape to discuss it yet, and he's not.
But throughout the next few weeks, John can easily be found at the ranch, either by those on business or those with an open invite--or hell, those who get lost in the woods and end up on the new boundary of his property watching rabbits and hares roam free behind the specially constructed fencing. He's working hard...not to forget, but to cope with what happened.
He's also just plain working, because he wants to add a couple bedrooms to the house. Just in case.
If something else happens, if he needs to know his people are safe...he could use the extra room.
as my conscience seems to be (closed to Sigma)
Within a week of returning from...the bullshit...John's thinking of the others a lot. The ones that were there with him, the ones who had his back, the ones he was most fearful for.
He thinks of Sigma a lot. Guy's unstable, like John after a fashion, but there's something about him that reminds him so much of the colonel it hurts. It doesn't make him homesick, but gives him some of the same strange comfort he finds when he's spending time with Alex.
So he ends up dropping a note in the mail for Sigma--i just has his name, his phone number, and the offer use it if you ever need to or want to.
He also includes a date, time, and an offer to open a tab at the Oak & Iron if he's up for it.
Which is where John can be found, within about a week of the end of the cultist outing. He's at a table near the back, sewing--not fabric and thread, but leatherwork: a small pouch for the leaf that he can thread onto the cord that holds Serranai's bead.
Of course, he has no food or drink, despite Tasha's puppy dog eyes, but as he glances up again to see if Sigma's entered yet, her tiny blonde figure appears with a basket in hand, packed high with everything she could possibly hope for him to put away in a fucking week much less a night's dinner.
"I do eat, y'know." he reminds her.
"Of course, but this makes sure you eat well. Now hush, there's berries in there for Coco."
The aforementioned chicken peeks her head over the edge of the table, forcing John to grin as he sets his leatherwork aside to find Co's treat in the basket.
i have hours, only lonely (Temple, ota)
Thus far, John's communion with the goddesses has been private...but the more he learns, the more he finds himself turning to them, the more curious he gets.
So...he goes to the temple. Not a lot, but he attends a couple services, and a couple times he just goes to sit or to pray. It's nice, to sort of...do it right? Maybe. It does help, a tiny bit, to feel more like Serranai hears him when he talks to her, and if someone wants to join him in prayer or say hello after a service? He's not only open, but in a better mood for being there.
He still prefers the temple of his own making, though.
my love is vengeance that's never free (Forest/Wildcard, ota)
John does precisely that: visits his own temples to not merely pray, but reach out. He occasionally goes to the beach to give offerings to Kora: little driftwood tokens he's whittled into fish, coins, and bottles he's filled with broken shells and sea glass he collects from the sand. He'll walk along the water, toss them into the waves with a few words to her...
...and he makes his monthly pilgrimage to the depths of the forest for Serranai. He gives her his offerings, he takes his meal under the tree he thinks of hers--and he spends more than a couple of hours there, trying to draw comfort from her presence. It's probably in his head, but he feels her more strongly here. Maybe it's the memory of her, but he swears that the forest is more alive here, the animals a little tamer--the odd flower a little more colorful.
The place isn't hidden--at least not by John. Find him here, deep in meditation, walking to or from this place with an empty basket in tow and a homemade longbow slung over his shoulder--or anywhere else, doing anything else. The sky's the limit.
((and if you need a personalized starter, PM the journal or hit me up on discord--the server proper, or privately at madwomanwithabox. :D))
theydrewfirstblood) & YOU! (Mostly. Couple closed starters below.) What: July catch all for Da Hollow's Favorite Commando(TM)
When: Throughout July
Where: Baker Ranch, Temple of the Sacred Roots, Forest--all around, really
Warning(s): canon typical nonsense: war, violence, PTSD, police brutality, will continue to warn in comment subjects as I go, with extra warnings for coping with mental illness (PTSD, anxiety, depression), nothing graphic or disturbing but I know if I'm going through it, reading about it doesn't always help so take your measure and know ILU.
but my dreams, they aren't as empty (Ranch, ota)
After what happened among the cultists, learning about this eldritch bullshit...dying, coming back...
The tiny gold leaf he was clutching when he came back to himself remains in his pocket at first. He's got plans for it, and they all involve keeping the fucking thing on him at all times. He doesn't want to lose it, doesn't want to leave it laying around...doesn't want to be this irrational and paranoid about potentially letting one of the boys find it around the house.
That whole deal, the whole mess...John doesn't want it to touch them, even incidentally. He hasn't really talked about it with them, save to say that he wasn't in any shape to discuss it yet, and he's not.
But throughout the next few weeks, John can easily be found at the ranch, either by those on business or those with an open invite--or hell, those who get lost in the woods and end up on the new boundary of his property watching rabbits and hares roam free behind the specially constructed fencing. He's working hard...not to forget, but to cope with what happened.
He's also just plain working, because he wants to add a couple bedrooms to the house. Just in case.
If something else happens, if he needs to know his people are safe...he could use the extra room.
as my conscience seems to be (closed to Sigma)
Within a week of returning from...the bullshit...John's thinking of the others a lot. The ones that were there with him, the ones who had his back, the ones he was most fearful for.
He thinks of Sigma a lot. Guy's unstable, like John after a fashion, but there's something about him that reminds him so much of the colonel it hurts. It doesn't make him homesick, but gives him some of the same strange comfort he finds when he's spending time with Alex.
So he ends up dropping a note in the mail for Sigma--i just has his name, his phone number, and the offer use it if you ever need to or want to.
He also includes a date, time, and an offer to open a tab at the Oak & Iron if he's up for it.
Which is where John can be found, within about a week of the end of the cultist outing. He's at a table near the back, sewing--not fabric and thread, but leatherwork: a small pouch for the leaf that he can thread onto the cord that holds Serranai's bead.
Of course, he has no food or drink, despite Tasha's puppy dog eyes, but as he glances up again to see if Sigma's entered yet, her tiny blonde figure appears with a basket in hand, packed high with everything she could possibly hope for him to put away in a fucking week much less a night's dinner.
"I do eat, y'know." he reminds her.
"Of course, but this makes sure you eat well. Now hush, there's berries in there for Coco."
The aforementioned chicken peeks her head over the edge of the table, forcing John to grin as he sets his leatherwork aside to find Co's treat in the basket.
i have hours, only lonely (Temple, ota)
Thus far, John's communion with the goddesses has been private...but the more he learns, the more he finds himself turning to them, the more curious he gets.
So...he goes to the temple. Not a lot, but he attends a couple services, and a couple times he just goes to sit or to pray. It's nice, to sort of...do it right? Maybe. It does help, a tiny bit, to feel more like Serranai hears him when he talks to her, and if someone wants to join him in prayer or say hello after a service? He's not only open, but in a better mood for being there.
He still prefers the temple of his own making, though.
my love is vengeance that's never free (Forest/Wildcard, ota)
John does precisely that: visits his own temples to not merely pray, but reach out. He occasionally goes to the beach to give offerings to Kora: little driftwood tokens he's whittled into fish, coins, and bottles he's filled with broken shells and sea glass he collects from the sand. He'll walk along the water, toss them into the waves with a few words to her...
...and he makes his monthly pilgrimage to the depths of the forest for Serranai. He gives her his offerings, he takes his meal under the tree he thinks of hers--and he spends more than a couple of hours there, trying to draw comfort from her presence. It's probably in his head, but he feels her more strongly here. Maybe it's the memory of her, but he swears that the forest is more alive here, the animals a little tamer--the odd flower a little more colorful.
The place isn't hidden--at least not by John. Find him here, deep in meditation, walking to or from this place with an empty basket in tow and a homemade longbow slung over his shoulder--or anywhere else, doing anything else. The sky's the limit.
((and if you need a personalized starter, PM the journal or hit me up on discord--the server proper, or privately at madwomanwithabox. :D))
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"Not sure 'bout that." he hedges. "Maybe more like...the religion I grew up in? There's these figures, saints. Super holy people who've died, and we believe they can sorta--put in a good word with God for us in special areas. There's this one saint, Saint Jude? He's the patron saint of hopeless or lost causes. I think it's more like that."
Still, his hand drifts up to his chest, where the green glass bead with a flower trapped inside still hangs--the same bead he was toying with when Angel sat down.
"But I do like her. A lot." he admits softly. "I feel...like she cares, I'm bein' an asshole with that 'lost cause' shit. I know it, I just...I don't understand. I want--I don't know if I deserve it."
Deserve her. Her protection, her attention--the care she's shown him, the affection he's felt...
She makes him feel like a person again, and he doesn't know if he deserves that.
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Angel jabs his elbow at John lightly.
"Are you really questioning her ability to choose who to give her attention to?"
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...which means Angel gets a little huffy--and John loves him a little for it. Maybe a lot, especially when he catches that elbow and can't help but smile despite the raised eyebrow of mock offense he shoots back.
"I'd be a bad Catholic without the guilt and shame." he jokes, then grows more serious again. "Seriously...I'm not actually sure. I'm not...questioning. Not her judgment, just..."
My worth. Which, Angel is right: that's the same thing.
...which has his mind drifting back to something he learned while he was dead. He shifts a little towards Angel, hesitates--then drops his voice to make sure only Angel can hear him.
"Ange...you know if Serranai...does she--I mean--fuck. You know what a paladin is?"
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"I know, it's...it seems weird, but it makes sense in my head." He replies. "There was--something happened recently, dunno if you heard but a bunch of people got this note, we ended up in something similar to that shared dream a while back. Point is, I was talkin' to this guy, Imbros--cool guy, kind of cranky, Lovecraftian look--and he mentioned paladins. Like...the thing I took away from the bullshit was that maybe a god or goddess needs a soldier, and so there's--there's paladins. Like...maybe like priests, but not. Regular soldiers, but they don't serve in the military, they..."
He catches on the words, his chest squeezing tight with--he can't put a name to it, but it doesn't feel bad. It feels...it feels like what Angel is saying.
Like maybe this is why she found him, maybe this is where he...maybe it's that credit he could give himself. The blood, the guts, the filth, the war and everything he endured, everything he was designed to do...it's enough, it's almost a place where man and weapon are one. Where maybe, just maybe, he could feel whole.
"...I...could serve her. Being what I am, doing--what I know how to do."
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CW: discussions of christianity
He gives the question serious thought. He thinks of himself, other soldiers he's known...he thinks of Father Mulcahy. He falls silent for a couple of minutes, considering the question...
"I...I think a soldier can be a priest, and a priest can be a soldier. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive--but it's got nothin' to do with worth. You know about bein' Catholic, right? Priests, nuns, people who serve God right by his side, it's a calling. It's not service in combat, it's service. Ministering to people, taking care of 'em, guiding 'em. That's not a calling I've ever felt, and I don't feel it now. I'm...not called to serve. I'm called to fight."
He pauses, drawing a deep breath as something in him he didn't even realize was tense just relaxes, releases with such intensity he feels a little shaky.
He thinks of every life he's taken, every battle he's fought. Every moment he suffered, every horror he's seen...and he finds himself thinking of all the things he could have done to fix it if he hadn't been fighting for flawed, horrible human beings. If his commander was someone higher, someone that wanted all the pain and death to stop.
If he'd been fighting the monsters to begin with instead of following their orders...putting arrows in their faces, just like Serranai said.
"...I'm called to fight."
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There's a finger jabbed in his direction a couple of times.
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Until he thinks of Co.
"...you allowed to kill people as a priest, Angel? Someone is killed, in front of you, and the person who did it's right in front of you about to kill someone else. Are you allowed to kill 'em, and if you are...do you believe there's something right in taking that life? Not acceptable, but just?"
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Sorry, John, Angel is not Mulcahy, or even Degas. Angel is inhuman and a priest of some very pagan goddesses.
Muses and their one liners, mang. Stubborn Commando is stubborn. XD
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"You're more evasive. That a priestly trait?" He asks, not quite under his breath.
John is not stubborn and petulant. You're stubborn and petulant.
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What, did John expect anything less than complete honesty from Angel?
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"Love you anyway." John replies after a beat, smiling softly. "Seriously, Ange. You're a good friend. And a good priest."
He still doesn't feel that priesthood is for him--maybe it's his Catholic upbringing, but the idea of it rankles in ways that have nothing to do with his worth and everything to do with--to be frank--his own perception of what a priest is.
Colonel Trautman took care of them, too. He went to bat for John when he didn't have to--he'd have let him go if he had his way. Of that, John is certain.
Maybe there is more to being a soldier than just the fight--but a soldier is still what John is.
Maybe he just needs to look at it a little differently.
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"...you do look better in the robes than I would."
He follows it with a small, softer smile--and a tiny nod.
Point made, Angel. He's...going to try to remember that.
"Unless there's some jeans under there I can't see."
Translation: please don't be afraid to bap him with a rolled up newspaper if he backslides too badly.
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The face Angel pulls makes John laugh outright, shaking his head.
"Man, I gotta get you in on some pranks sometime. Say, uh--you think any of the goddesses have a sense of humor? I'd kill to pull a fast one on River La Croix if you ever wanna get in on that."
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