[OPEN] city flower, wrapped around my heart

[incomingchoppers]

Who: Radar (incomingchoppers) & YOU
What: A rare breaking point, a new member of the O'Reilly Menagerie, and Radar's 20th birthday!
When: October through the beginning of November
Where: The Oak & Iron, Baker Ranch, and a few other spots around town
Warning(s): None yet -- will add if needed



1) you find me in the shadows and the shade

For a week or so after the gala, Radar's uncharacteristically scarce around town. He doesn't show up bright and early at Town Hall with coffee for all the filing clerks. Doesn't go to Baker Ranch for the weekend. If he pops into a store for something, he doesn't linger.

I got a lot to do at the estate, he says when asked, subdued. That's only part of it, but it's a big enough part that he doesn't wanna elaborate further.

Gradually, that changes: he begins to stop by the Oak & Iron again, making small talk here and there, though he clams up pretty quick whenever the topic turns toward Dahlia Leeds. Just because he's not talking about it doesn't mean plenty of other people aren't, though. When the gossip gets bad, it's easy to spot him scowling from across the way, visibly biting his tongue like he's listening to Major Burns spout off another boneheaded rant about the enlisted men.

What can he do, though? What they're saying might be awful, sure, but a lot of it's true. She's Aster's daughter; part-demon. She's eaten people. She never told anybody. That keeps him quiet, more or less -- until it doesn't anymore. Even a guy like Radar has to snap sometime.

So yeah, somebody comes in to the Oak & Iron talking about how they're gonna try to kick Dahlia off the town council, and Radar kinda loses his temper (a little at first but then a whole lot), and suddenly there's a real bad shouting match where he's yelling like he would when Colonel Blake wanted him to quiet down the whole mess tent -- You think she wants this?! You think anybody would if they could just be normal?!! --

Anyway. It's bad. And loud enough that it interrupts a lot of people's days -- maybe including yours.


2) the city bells ring soft in the night

He holes up at Baker Ranch for a bit after that, cycling back toward scarcity, keeping to himself when he can. Radar takes it upon himself to pick up the worst chores nobody else wants to do, like mucking out the stalls and scrubbing down the chicken coop. And he only assumes the fetal position in the hayloft once! Success!

That's where the barn cat finds him. And look, Radar had a real bad September, so when something that cute and fuzzy nuzzles up to him and starts purring, he just about bursts into tears. Even when it swipes his sending stone right out of his pocket, he can't find it in himself to be mad; he just pries it out of the cat's mouth with a weak, "Hey, c'mon, I need that."

Which is when he notices the stone's glowing like he just placed a call. Oops.

"Uh -- hello?" he says into the geode, sheepish. Radar rubs his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to call, sir. Ma'am. Who's this?"

In the background, the Purrloin keeps purring smugly.


3) show me how to bloom; i promise i won't fade (forward dated to November)

Radar's mood finally begins to lighten toward the middle-end of the month. Mostly because once they turn the corner on October, it's just over a week until his birthday. He doesn't actually want a big party or anything, but if he mentions, oh so casual and offhand, that his twentieth birthday's coming up pretty soon, that's not gonna hurt anything, right?

So on November 8th, he wakes up -- and there it is. He's twenty. The big 2-0. No longer a teenager even a little bit. Maybe technically he was twenty before this, since it was September or October or maybe even November already when he died, and he's been on Marrow Isle for almost six months, but now it's official. He can do anything! He could even go to the Velvet now if he wanted!

....He doesn't actually want to, but he could.

Obviously he doesn't take off work (who do you think he is?!), but he miiiiight cut out a little early to celebrate. It'll be a quiet one -- a drink at Empty Pockets, some more time up at the ranch with all the animals, and eventually wandering toward the Leeds estate -- but if anyone wants to celebrate with him, he definitely won't say no. Hopefully it'll go a little better than Dahlia's birthday did.


4) wildcard

[find me on discord or PM me to plot!]

Comments

show me how to bloom

[lovethyneighb_or]

All these years. Of course he still remembers.

Mulcahy finds him as he's wandering up to the estate, holding a wicker basket with a cloth over it. "Radar?" he calls. "Could I borrow you for just a moment? I have something for you."

[incomingchoppers]

Radar turns before Mulcahy's even spoken, already brightening. "Father! Hey!" he calls back, waving. "Yeah, of course -- "

He jogs across the short distance to meet him, eyeing the basket with combined curiosity and anticipation.

[lovethyneighb_or]

He takes the cloth off.

It's a pie. Maybe not particularly skillfully, but lovingly made, a whole apple pie made of real fresh fruit, and there are pumpkin muffins and fresh pears and oranges. Sugar, fruit, citrus, fresh food. Things they couldn't have in the war. Things he's positive that Radar has had since coming to the island, but there are few comforts that can be matched by that of having something good and warm to eat.

"This is for you," he says, handing off the basket. There's a cutting knife in there, the blade wrapped in cloth and twine. "Share this with anybody you like today. Happy birthday, Radar."

(He can't remember how exactly old he is with the timeline distortions, but that's less important than remembering the day.)

[incomingchoppers]

"Oh."

As much as Radar's adapted back to civilian life (or the island's variation thereof), he still gets a tiny, gleeful thrill over stuff like fresh eggs and real milk. That he can just buy! Whenever he wants! Getting a whole basketful of that kind of thing, from somebody who knows best just how much he'll appreciate it -- he's beaming so hard his cheeks ache.

"Wow! Did you make all this? Thank you, Father, this is great -- " Impulsively, he slings an arm around Mulcahy for a quick sideways hug. "Thank you so much. Here, c'mon, you're gonna have one of the muffins, right?"

Because even if Mulcahy gave him the basket, anybody Radar likes includes him, too.

1

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

The wild-haired, monochromatically-attired person with the sketchbook a few tables down is staring at Radar. They didn't do anything as uncomposed as flinch or jerk their pencil across the page or knock over their apple cider, but that was loud.

"You don't have to yell!" they yell back, hypocritically.

[incomingchoppers]

"Oh, shove it in your ear!" hollers Radar. "Who asked you anyway, huh?!"

(Somewhere in the rafters, a tiny pink squirrel gleefully munches on a bag of popcorn.)

[when_a_grids_misaligned]

"My ears have suffered enough!" Moiré shouts back.

[incomingchoppers]

"Well nobody's making you stay and listen!!"

Radar's turn to be a hypocrite, clearly. He punctuates that with a few flailing gestures toward the door.

you find me in the shadows and the shade

[theydrewfirstblood]

”Now you listen here, you little—“

The man about to lay into Radar—with a hand raised in a loose fist, but a fist all the same—is cut off when a hand grabs him hard by the back of his neck and yanks him backwards about a foot to stand right alongside the owner of that hand.

Namely, a visibly irate John Rambo, who is very carefully keeping a leash on the worst of his anger both because he knows Radar doesn’t like violence—and because the notion of showing this asshole a monster up close and personal by shifting is far too tempting.

He settles for the cold, dead, seething rage etched across his face and vibrating through every muscle as the guy in his grip actually squeals under John’s grip.

“No, you listen.” John replies, dangerously quiet but still audible beside the man’s ear. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up, head over to the temple, get on your hands and knees, and pray to the Mothers that the other farmers in this town will sell you eggs at a reasonable price, ‘cause you don’t make enough in a year to afford even one that rolls out of my ranch, you understand me?”

”You can’t—“

“You bet your ass I can, and I just did. What’s more, I’m really enjoying it.” John snarls just before abruptly releasing the man.

“Now relax—you got bigger problems than price gouging.”

Buk…buk buk bukbuk buk…

“Hey—HEY! That’s a library book!…”

John finally looks remorseful at that. Siebren will…probably not be happy when he hears John let Co wreck one of his books…

He just glances over at the table where she’s happily clawing away at the volume, daring the victim to touch her with a murderous glare before turning his attention to Radar with nothing but gentle concern.

“Hey, you all right?” John asks softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. And he is worried—knowing how close Radar is to Dahlia, to Laios…if he wasn’t already firmly convinced of the morality of standing behind her on principle alone, he’d defend her just for them…and probably with far less restraint.

[incomingchoppers]

"I'm fine," says Radar: not at a shout anymore, but still too loud and too shrill at the edges.

Fury doesn't sit right on his face. He's always gonna look a little bit like a puppy growling at something ten times its size. But he means it, every word, and feels it so deep in his bones that he's almost a little sorry John pulled the guy back before Radar could throw a punch too.

He shrugs off John's hand on his shoulder, scowling, already beginning to turn toward the exit. "I'm getting out of here."

[theydrewfirstblood]

Before John can call him on the fact that he's clearly not okay, Radar's making for the door. Leaning forward, he tries to catch his arm in an effort to gently stop him.

"Hey hey hey--hang on, please? Help me get Co outta here?"

It's a cheap shot, but at least then he won't bolt to go stew and seethe alone.

[incomingchoppers]

Sure, it's cheap, but the shot hits its target. Radar's glower dims -- even if it doesn't totally disappear -- as he glances toward Co.

"I hope she eats his whole book," he mutters with uncharacteristic venom. Then, sighing, he calls, "Co, c'mere, girl," and heads back toward the table to play assistant chicken wrangler.

the city bells ring soft in the night

[agoodsupplyofbodybags]

The sending stones are...still new for Sam to deal with. Fortunately, phones are a thing, but magic and the like...

Nevertheless, he has one, and when Sam's gets set off by someone trying to reach him, he's fortunately a bit at loose ends and actually grateful for the distraction. Especially when he hears--well.

The answer on Radar's end is a voice that will be familiar from the Visitor's Center, belonging to a face that he may or may not have seen around Baker Ranch just yet.

"O'Reilly, right? This is Sam Trautman--you doin' okay, son?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Oh -- !"

He straightens up so fast that the barn cat yowls and scampers back a couple steps. Instantly, Radar feels terrible; he reaches out a placating hand in her direction, even as he says into the stone, "Colonel Trautman, sir! Gee, I didn't mean to interrupt your day, sir, there's a new barn cat and she grabbed my rock and must've called you by accident -- "

Said barn cat, who's deigned to return long enough to sniff Radar's fingers, blinks her enormous eyes up at him with the utmost innocence.

" -- I'm real sorry. Um. Yes, I'm okay, sir." A pause. "I mean I'm not, but I am. How are you?"

He knew Colonel Trautman stuck around after the Visitor's Center vanished, but he hasn't gotten a real chance to talk to him since then, what with... everything.

[agoodsupplyofbodybags]

“Still getting settled—in all the ways that don’t much matter.” Sam replies, hoping the conversation will give some reassurance. He can hear it, poor kid: something has put him through the wringer. Based on the dreams he had before waking up at the inn, and a lot of local gossip, he’s got an idea, though.

“Truthfully, this stone thing—when I manage to get it to work, it’s mostly by accident.” He continues…not a bald faced lie, more of an exaggeration with motive. “If you’re not busy, maybe you might wanna stop by and help me get the hang of it? I’m up in Northwest Hollow, too, the residential side. Assuming you’re over at Johnny’s place, that is.”

And given the animal he heard…well, it’s not a far leap of logic to make.

[incomingchoppers]

"Oh, sure, sir, I'd be happy to," he says immediately. "Uh, I gotta get out of my barn clothes first, but I can come over after that?"

"Prrrrr," the barn cat interjects, pointedly.

"...And I think the cat's gonna wanna come with, if you're not allergic."

Smug: "Prrr."

show me how to bloom; i promise i won't fade

[notinflictthem]

Now, Hawk has had two years with Radar, which means he does in fact remember the time of year Radar's birthday happens. During the war that mostly consisted of bribing the cook to get the kid something edible, and novelty items from one of the peddlers that came through camp. No dolls in kimono here though, or dashboard hula girls to embarrass him with. Even if he thought Radar would have a reaction somewhere south of 'OH- SIR-' in outrage to a girlie mag, there's none of them here. So he's had to get creative.

At Empty Pockets, he sits himself in the seat next to Radar, leaning his elbow on the bar.

"Can I buy a drink for the birthday boy?"

[incomingchoppers]

"Hawkeye!" Radar's whole face lights up, the closest he's gotten in weeks to looking like his old self. "Hey! Yeah, sure -- how's it going?"

He's got his usual seltzer-and-grape-juice concoction in front of him. Nothing too crazy yet. But you know what, he's twenty, so he definitely oughta party a little harder than a makeshift grape Nehi before the night's over.

[notinflictthem]

"Still me, somehow!" he chimes as he settles in, giving Radar a gentle clap on the shoulder.

"Another day in pumpkin paradise, where we can't complain, but we will. I'll be even better when my blood alcohol levels are higher- let's see... think you can handle a beer to start with?"

1.

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth wasn't around for the gala, but he has certainly been hearing plenty about it now that he's arrived. Not knowing the person involved, he stays quiet. But Radar's outburst certainly strikes a nerve for him.

Ah yes, to be normal. It was finding out he wasn't that drove him mad and led to all the horrific things he did and tried to do over the past several years.

He can imagine what the person Radar is screaming at would say if they knew all about him. Not that he wouldn't deserve it.

Suddenly he doesn't really want to be here right now. He gets up and calmly goes over to Radar. "It's stuffy in here," he says mildly, kindly. "Why don't we both go somewhere more pleasant?"

[incomingchoppers]

Oh, jeez, the guy coming over to escort him out has gotta be an entire foot and a half taller than Radar.

That might be the only reason he bothers to listen to him. Doesn't mean he has to be pleasant about it, though; still clearly riled up, glowering so hard his whole face'll stick that way if he keeps it up much longer, Radar snaps, "Yeah, fine, whatever," and turns on his heel to stalk toward the front door.

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth calmly follows him out. It's good to get out of that environment, honestly.

"The woman you were talking about," he says. "Is she a friend of yours?" He's still learning about this place and all the people.

1

[pineapplesalmon]

César's with his farm hands celebrating one of their birthdays when a shouting match breaks out. All their heads turn at once to regard the shouting match, including César's Comfey, Flora, who's sitting on his shoulder.

He lets out a sigh, and lets his team know he'll handle it before standing with a deep frown. As he walks over, César whispers something to Flora. By the time they reach the argument, Flora has started wailing and clinging desperately to César's shirt collar. César looks livid, and he's pulling out his sending stone, his other hand balled into a fist.

"Picking fights again, Louis?" César calls out, and the man looks at the angry man and his crying Pokémon before his eyes fall onto César's sending stone. Oh. He's mad. The Pokemon's upset. César opens his mouth to make a call—

The man goes pale in an instant, stammers a "Don't call her!", and runs out the door.

Flora immediately stops crying after the door slams closed. César uncurls his fist and thumbs the sugar treat from his palm to his fingers, holding the reward up to Flora, who takes it eagerly.

César's expression smooths over to irritation as he pockets his sending stone, watching the door. "Jerk."

[incomingchoppers]

If Radar weren't fuming so hard that he might boil the next pot of tea with his temper alone, he'd be way more impressed. That's exactly the kind of trick he'd help Hawkeye pull on a four-star strutting around camp making everybody's lives miserable. Well done.

As it stands, all he does is mutter a vehement, "Yeah," and thump onto the closest barstool, glaring daggers at the door as if daring said jerk to come back through.

[pineapplesalmon]

César will tell Magne about it later with some pride, certainly.

He slides into the bar stool next to Radar and takes a moment to think of what to say. "... I believe you, by the way. I was under that impression when Ms. Leeds parentage was revealed."