incomingchoppers: (no survivors.)
Radar O'Reilly ([personal profile] incomingchoppers) wrote in [community profile] ph_logs2025-05-06 10:27 am

but i wonder where you are [closed to current CR]

Who: Radar O'Reilly ([personal profile] incomingchoppers) and current CR
What: Mr. Rambo's gone. Radar tries to deal.
When: Early May
Where: Baker Ranch, Town Hall, the Leeds Estate, and all over
Warning(s): None yet; will add if necessary



on the night you disappeared, oh if i had seen it clear [locked to Baker Ranch residents]

He wakes up, and he knows.

He hears an echo of the ferryman's sigh; the whisper of water parting as the boat shoves back from the dock. The problem with echoes, though, is the delay between source and sound. He wakes up, he hears, and he knows it's too late.

Radar's probably never gotten dressed so fast in his life, even during a middle-of-the-night bugout. He bursts out the door with one boot half untied and his suspenders on the verge of snapping off. He doesn't care. He sprints as fast as he can the whole way to Baker Ranch, which isn't too fast at all on account of him having to catch his breath a couple times.

(He knows -- and pretends like he doesn't -- that this is different from the last time John vanished onto the ferry.)


i'm gonna find a way through, there's another life beyond the line [town hall + leeds estate]

There's so much to be done. Nobody realizes how much you gotta get in order after somebody's gone, but Radar's had to do it hundreds of times. Every soldier the 4077th can't save has to be processed before the morgue truck takes them, so he knows the shape of the aftermath pretty good, even if, individually, each one's on a smaller scale than this. This is more like --

well --

(There were no survivors.)

And Edgar's great, he's way better at all this than he was a year ago, but he doesn't know enough to run Baker Ranch. Not like somebody who grew up on a farm and knew the rhythms of the work by the time they were crawling. There's so much, and even someone like Radar can't do all of it plus keep working at Town Hall plus help keep the Leeds Estate in decent shape.

He crumples up five tries at writing a resignation letter before he just gives up and goes to tell everybody at Town Hall in person. Maybe it'll just be temporary. (He knows that's a big maybe.) But there's a lot to settle there, too, and all the conversations Radar has with his friends and coworkers get punctuated with fretful ramblings like, " -- and I wrote down everybody's coffee order when I was just starting out and a copy of it's still in my desk even though I got it all memorized now, top drawer, third folder down, and I checked on Yorick's cabinet last week and it's only got space for maybe ten more folders so you're gonna have to start a new cabinet before the end of May, and -- "

Dahlia and anybody else on the Leeds Estate grounds has to put up with him pacing around there, too, rattling off all the idle upkeep notes he's been cataloging even though he's not exactly officially her assistant anymore. And oh, jeez, if he moves out to the ranch permanent then he's going to be all the way across town from Dahlia. Sure it's not really that far, but it feels far, and what if something goes bad when he's living all the way out in the farmlands? What if Hawkeye or Father Mulcahy or Major Houlihan need him and he can't get there fast enough?

Somebody's gotta look after the ranch with John gone for good, though. So... so that's what he's gotta do. What needs doing. Just like he's always done.


i will be waiting for you on the other side of the frozen pines [wildcard]

In a rare idle moment, it's possible to catch Radar alone. Maybe on his front stoop with a couple of his animals gathered close; at the Temple, fussing helplessly over Serranai's altar (because somebody's gotta keep that in good shape, too, don't they? it's important. it's important. he loved her too.); on the green, just sort of... staring into space in absolute exhaustion. Or somewhere else, as he sleepwalks through all the mundane parts of life that still need doing in between the rest.

[you know where to find me if you want to plot <3]
psalmofseasons: (serranai)

frozen pines

[personal profile] psalmofseasons 2025-05-06 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)
It's been a few days.

Radar will wake one morning to music. Sat at the top of a hill on the far side of the farmland, a familiar mass of red hair tangled around antlers wields an accordion with expert grace, spinning a somber tune. The animals, whether they were locked into their stalls or not, have all found a way to gather around her inside the fence. Beyond it, the wildlife seems to be doing the same.

A patch of forget-me-nots has bloomed in a circle around her.
be_seeing_you: (Mr. Mime)

Wildcard - Help has arrived

[personal profile] be_seeing_you 2025-05-06 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
The Baker's Ranch isn't all that far away from the former Starr's orchard. The orchard may not have any proprietor currently, but it does still have a keeper. Mr. Mime tends the trees as diligently as he keeps the Starr homestead maintained. It's a lot of work for one Pokemon alone, but he doesn't mind the toil. He saw how his master Peter toiled, and has been inspired ever since to do the same.

Now, he sees a new need. The changes to his neighbor's household have not gone unnoticed. He sees Radar now working just as hard as Master Starr and he cannot turn away. If there's a way Mr. Mime can help them, he'd like to.

So, with that decided, the mime approaches Radar during a quiet moment when he's out on the porch alone. He shuffles up, tentatively, and offers out one gloved hand as if trying to introduce himself, "Mime! Mr. Mime!"
hate_gettin_older: (snow on snow)

on the night you disappeared

[personal profile] hate_gettin_older 2025-05-07 12:55 am (UTC)(link)
The farm seems almost wholly deserted, in the dim gray pre-dawn when Radar arrives. Just the animals, some still asleep, some blinking placidly at him. No sign of Edgar.



Radar will eventually find him in his room, in bed, out like a light. He's lying half curled around a bunched-up blanket that he's clutching to his chest; his brows are drawn down in the middle in an unconscious frown, like he's trying to solve some thorny problem in his sleep.
psalmofseasons: (serranai)

[personal profile] psalmofseasons 2025-05-07 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
During slower parts, Serranai sings along to the melody, just vocalizations rather than words. There's a familiar hen settled beside her as she plays on.

The Mother of Land and Spring is an artist, music included. And she is a creature of beasts and plant life. And all these things flow together in perfect harmony, all the things of land perfectly understanding her heart through her art. And Radar is among them.

The song is one of longing, but of peace. John was struggling to cope with the horrors. They stacked upon his own--- mundane in the sense that they lacked an element of magic, but hardly average, as Radar would surely know. Constant weight built up onto his soul, existential and uncontrollable and nearly constant. It wasn't fair to ask him to stay. And so Mortanne called him to be with his Co, somewhere safe and comfortable, with the knowledge that his people would be well cared for.

He is missed, but his departure is one that was earned. And there is peace to be found in that. Peace that he was able to find Mortanne's embrace not through further bloodshed and gunfire, but in the deathless death of a ferry ride to the Beyond. A rare privilege. The trophy earned from a life well lived.

The song ends when the wordless tale is told, and the final note holds an air of relief. Serranai looks to Radar, and makes no comment on his tears, simply brushing fingertips still lightly dusted with garden dirt over the bits of hair that peek out from his hat. She speaks, softer than usual, her Glassighe accent thick as her hair. "Thought he could use a proper li'l memorial. Don't you agree, my darlin'?"
abhorrently: (future.)

frozen pines.

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-05-07 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
When he had told her he needed to leave, Fever had nodded through everything he wanted to tell her, before just holding his hands and telling him to do what he had to do. They'd figure it out at Town Hall - they always have. Really, she thinks he needs more time to grieve, but asking Radar to stop when this might be the only thing that helps feels unfair.

So, instead, there are things she can do in the places he's not looking. Others that come to the ranch, sorry for the loss, and offering their time and extra hands to help out. Asking what'll be needed in the near future and making plans for summer. Some bring food, knowing he's probably been busy enough to barely scrape together a meal for himself, for the others there. Soft assurances, that they'll manage together.

Our Radar, Margaret had said months ago, and Fever had felt a small bloom in her chest for how true the words were. Their Radar works himself to the bone trying to help everyone else. Now it's time to repay the favors done.

And when she has a free afternoon, Fever makes her way out there, not announcing her presence, but simply showing up and looking for him. No words need to be exchanged before she finds him, gathering him into her arms for an embrace.
psalmofseasons: (serranai)

[personal profile] psalmofseasons 2025-05-07 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"I can do that," Serranai agrees, and with an upwards wave of her hand, a rock pries itself from the ground below, pushing itself above the surface just inside the cattle fence. Light carves itself through the stone, inscribing 'JOHN RAMBO' into the surface of the stone. A few bright orange day lilies spring up around it like a wreath. Hardy things that can grow anywhere there's light.

"Howzat?"

The gesture, she hopes, will take some weight off of Radar's shoulders. One less thing to be done.
abhorrently: (light.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-05-07 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hey, Radar."

She can tell. That wound up tightness, that tension through every nerve. But she won't make him. Instead, she just rubs his back in what she hopes is a soothing manner. When did he last sleep? When did he sit down?
psalmofseasons: (serranai)

[personal profile] psalmofseasons 2025-05-08 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
"You don't have to bear all this alone, love," Serranai says softly, reaching out to rub his shoulder. "Let me do a few things for ya, here n' there. Let the land take care of you a little. Let Laios make you dinner. Let Dahlia kiss you goodnight. Let Edgar and Kitty help with the farm. Let Degas mind the altar. Be kind to yourself."
hate_gettin_older: (peer)

[personal profile] hate_gettin_older 2025-05-08 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Mmzuh?" Edgar lifts his head, blinking muzzily and then focusing with startling speed. "What is it?"
abhorrently: (explore.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2025-05-08 08:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Didn't come here to ask for anything. I came to ask what you need."

Like Anzu had done for her. Let her talk, and let her not talk. Let her move and not move. Allowed to feel grief as a whole, instead of just some distant, wretched sickness. A wound with no weapon to make it, a broken bone that never felt right to try to walk on even as she had tried. As he's trying.

Thou hast the luxury now to do right by the departed, and to do right by thyself.

hate_gettin_older: (oh no)

[personal profile] hate_gettin_older 2025-05-08 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)
He's sitting up, abruptly cold all over. "Gone?"
psalmofseasons: (serranai)

[personal profile] psalmofseasons 2025-05-09 01:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"If you never stop and think about it, how will you tame the hurt? You can't break a horse by ignorin' it and hopin' it turns polite on its own." Serranai explains. "That's how you do it, y'know. You stop. Sit. Think. Process. Understand your own heart, see the world in its new state after the change, and decide how you'll live in it."
hate_gettin_older: (oh crap)

[personal profile] hate_gettin_older 2025-05-09 06:36 pm (UTC)(link)
"See him last? When I fuckin fell asleep is when, he was right there --"

He flings out a hand toward the chair against the wall, where Rambo dozed so many nights so Edgar wouldn't have to sleep in a room alone.
Edited 2025-05-09 18:36 (UTC)

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