we stand shoulder to shoulder (veteran's social)

[theydrewfirstblood]

Who: John Rambo (theydrewfirstblood) & The Pumpkin Hollow Veterans' Association
What: Leveling up veteran's poker night with a barbecue
When: post-Blight
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): General warnings for John's canon: violence, police brutality, PTSD, torture, etc., and likely similar for many other veterans here, check for further warnings throughout

(NOTE: Treat this as a gathering, but I personally will be backtagging into this for the duration of September, so don't be a stranger!)

Poker Night is something John looks forward to every month, but he got it into his head that it could be fun to do a little more, so he talked to a few people, did a little extra work...

...then the damn Thatcher's Blight hit and everything went to absolute shit.

Fortunately, the whole thing's blown over now, and once he's sure everything around the farm is as clean as it's gonna get? John goes through his stores and decides he's got enough food and drink for all--and tacks up a notice on the bulletin board just below that for the regular poker night, with a date and time as well as his phone number and address.

VETERAN'S SOCIAL, BAKER RANCH--BBQ & DRINKS, POTLUCK OPTIONAL

The event starts a few hours before dusk. John's set up a ways from the house with some tables, chairs, and blankets for those who want to go full on picnic style. It wouldn't be a veteran's night without poker, so there's a game going at one of the tables while another holds plates of food--regular game coming off the grill, along with a few other pieces of meat he picked up for those who aren't fans of game.

And, because Co is around, there's no visible chicken on the grill. Ever the pragmatist, there's a couple casseroles of simple baked chicken on the table, alongside some sides John's put together or any offerings that come along as part of the optional potluck. There's not a lot of alcohol, but John's got the last bottle or two of his little dandelion wine experiment available, as well as a couple other things. Mostly it's water, tea, coffee--tamer offerings.

Speaking of the animals, John's turned loose the ones he treats as pets: Sam the rooster spends the whole night chasing after and trying to wrangle Co, who makes no bones about harassing newcomers for adulation. Those she knows, if they sit still too long, will end up with a happy chicken nesting in their lap...one that will remain quiet only so long as you offer the bare minimum of scritches and pets. Dare to ignore her, and angry clucking will ensue. John's mare, Helga, can also be seen grazing around the goings-on, shy but not unfriendly. If a hot breath puffs on the back of your neck, she's just curious--if you pet her, she'll swish her tail happily and move on.

There's also a newer member of the family, whose only just getting big enough to let socialize: Bao, a female cottontail rabbit whose still young, but no longer too much of a baby to keep isolated. Though she spends a good portion of the night in John's arms when he's not busy, she does hop around loose, sticking close to John and to Co, who can be found very rarely nesting in a patch of grass with Bao tucked against her feathery side, gently attempting to "preen" Bao despite her lack of feathers.

And while this is, ostensibly, the veteran's social, any of Baker Ranch's varying degrees of resident are invited to the party, so if there's new faces about? Relax, they don't bite--unless you have food, then watch your hands. They're probably teenagers, and they don't discriminate when it comes to their appetites.

Comments

“Macaelius” (one of Sheo’s figments) | The Elder Scrolls | OTA

[blindwatchersees]

The vampire has seen fit to attend, but he’s doing little to socialize beyond that. Occasionally, he moves to help John with tidying. He doesn’t speak to anyone unless they initiate conversation. Sometimes he tries to warn them off ahead of time with a glare from his red-gold eyes.

Anyone who came from the cruise ship might find this mer strangely familiar- he looks a lot like someone that showed up at the height of everything falling to pieces before promptly vanishing again. Others might think he could be related to a raggedy, rambling elf that wanders around in the evenings now and again, often fixated on the idea of loss and grief.

This guy hasn’t explicitly told anyone except Rambo that he’s a vampire, but anyone with a decent Sense Motive should at least be able to tell that there’s something off about this guy.

[spaghettification]

Siebren sees the warning in Macaelius's gaze and keeps a polite distance for most of the night. But toward the end, he brings over a glass of the dandelion wine, offering it silently.

[blindwatchersees]

Funnily enough, Siebren and the elf have quite a few similarities between them. The hawkish nose, the arched brows, the hairline... one could almost imagine some nerds chatting on a thing called Discord, giggling about the resemblance between their blorbos. Whatever Discord is. Whatever a blorbo is.

Macaelius accepts the wine wordlessly with a nod. There's a lot of visible tension in his body, but now that he's been approached, he doesn't actually seem hostile, per se.

After a long pause, he comments, "I'm not accustomed to parties."

[spaghettification]

"Nor I. But our presence here will bring our host joy. That's sufficient reason to tackle some of the discomfort. He deserves joy. He deserves to feel like he's made a time and place for us."

Siebren's voice remains quiet, because he doesn't want Rambo to overhear this.

[blindwatchersees]

"I suppose I can't begrudge him that. He's a good man, John Rambo. There aren't enough like him."

[spaghettification]

"No, there aren't. If I'd known one sooner..." Well even the Rambo-est of them might not have been able to save him, from the government facility or from Talon. But it's nice to imagine, isn't it?

[blindwatchersees]

“You’ve still got time. Though probably someone other than him. He’s probably spoken for.”

Way to fundamentally misunderstand the statement, Mac.

[spaghettification]

"Oh! No, I meant...I'm certain I'm not what he's looking for, anyway. He deserves..." someone sane. Someone grounded. Someone else. "...you're right, he probably is spoken for."

Siebren flusters.

"And I have someone, myself. Erm, not that I'm spoken for in the traditional sense, but I'm seeing someone. Sorry, I...no, that wasn't what I was talking about."

[blindwatchersees]

He chuckles.

"You may want to finish your sentences, then. The lonely and the grieving sometimes have wild imaginations."

There's something hauntingly familiar about that smirk, but whatever it is seems to hang just outside of Siebren's mental grasp.

[spaghettification]

"And which are you?" The quip comes without thinking, but he lets it stand. "Perhaps if I'd known a man like him in the aftermath of my accident, I wouldn't be broken today."

[blindwatchersees]

"A bit of both, I suppose. It's the inevitable consequence of being a one-mer regiment."

He takes a sip of the wine.

"We're all broken. Egregiously so. What form does your damage take?"

[spaghettification]

"Is that a question most people can easily answer?"

There's a grimace.

"Traumatic brain injury compounded by years of isolation and exploitation, arthritis, a bad relationship with gravity. Is that what you were looking for?"

[blindwatchersees]

He takes another sip.

“Like for like. Parental abandonment, social isolation, vampirism, the responsibility of fighting an army’s front with my own two hands, and witnessing one of my closest friends be overwritten by a god.”

Well, okay, Martin wasn’t overwritten, but this collection of memories doesn’t know that.

[spaghettification]

"Well. Fuck."

Look, there's nothing really to say to that.

[blindwatchersees]

"Indeed. And I'm getting the impression that you're not unfamiliar with the notion of being a walking weapon. Well, perhaps not literally walking..."

[spaghettification]

"No, not in the least. I was a human tank."

...and one in the meta, too!

[blindwatchersees]

"They called me the Figment Blade. I had a talent for cutting my enemies down before they even knew I was there."

[spaghettification]

"Subject Sigma. Or just Sigma, in the worst times. Yours sounds cooler."

He chuckles mildly.

[blindwatchersees]

“I will admit, I do get a certain twisted sense of pride from it. Sigma… I don’t believe I understand the significance of the term.”

[spaghettification]

"It is a symbol in equations for the value of a sum. It is also a letter in the language of philosophers that makes the same sound as the first letter of my name. Their language is often used by mathematicians, though the later language of their conquerors is eerily similar to the language of demons, in this world."

[blindwatchersees]

He raises an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, I've heard about these demons. Apparently they're something different from the beings known as Daedra in my world, often misascribed as 'demons.' You know, no one is really sure where that term even came from."

Beat.

"So, what does that make you? A mathematician? A philosopher? I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive."

Shortly after friend-shaped vampire arrival

[theydrewfirstblood]

"...you're here."

John wasn't sure it was him when he spotted the figure, but the closer he got the easier it was to identify the vampire from his chicken coop. He's excited to see him again, especially in this environment--he's got a lot of sympathy for the guy, and he just...fuck, he hopes Serranai can help him. He hopes that he can help the guy, if Kora was right that he could use some kind of magic being Serranai's man...

Crossing over to where he's standing, John offers him his hand with a genuine smile.

"Glad you made it, man." he greets him warmly. "If you get hungry, there's land behind the house now, forest territory, with free range rabbits I'm using for game. Don't touch the cottontails, adult hares are on the menu, just leave the bodies under the back step. One of my boys is kinda squeamish, but I make a point of giving back a little of the life I take from the forest."

[blindwatchersees]

Macaelius gives an awkward nod, and then mutters and equally awkward "thank you."

He knows the rabbits will do little to send his condition into remission- Molag Bal's curse demands all that can be done to subjugate sapient life, after all, not simply the sacrifice of warm bodies- but it's better than nothing.

There's a long, tense pause.

"I'm not accustomed to the company of others. My husband and I mostly kept to ourselves after the war."

[theydrewfirstblood]

John's smile grows a little at that, because knowing Macaelius isn't alone back home makes him feel better. Having someone that loves him, maybe help him with that self-loathing that eats at him so hard...

"I did a lot of keeping to myself after my own war." John replies, gesturing for Macaelius to walk with him as he heads back towards the house. "Seven years, maybe a little more--I didn't talk to anyone, didn't see anyone. Wasn't lucky enough to have someone with me like you do, but I get it. You gotta disconnect after the fight, y'know?"

[blindwatchersees]

"I try, but trouble always seems to find me. And now I'm here, and I don't know if I'll ever get back to the family it took me so long to find. I don't make friends easily- most people try my patience rather quickly, you see."