[open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling

[maintiensledroit]

Who: Benton Fraser, Diefenbaker, and you!

What: Woodworking, guitar playing, ice skating, and more

When: Through February

Where: In Milton, at the basin, in the woods, others tbd.

Content Warnings: mention of animal butchery, hunting, others tbd.

i.

[ Even in this icy weather, it's a good idea to preserve meat rather than simply stashing it, raw, in the snow, and so Fraser can be found in the first weeks of February in the woods, seeking out a likely-looking tree trunk, either fallen or still standing. Once found, he brings tools and begins hollowing the thing out, working steadily with Diefenbaker either lazing beside him in the snow or off in the woods, hunting for himself.

When the log is hollow, he hitches Dief in a jury-rigged harness attached to leather straps around the log and together they haul it back to the house where he's been staying with Heartman. Once back in town, Fraser can be found hammering nails and hooks inside the hollowed trunk, humming quietly to himself as he works. He'd be more than happy to answer any questions, should someone stop by to ask what he's up to. ]

ii.

[ Before he found the right trunk, while he was out in the woods, something else had happened in the early days of the month. Diefenbaker had gone stock-still and focused at his side, and when Fraser looked up, he'd seen the thing that had so caught the wolf's attention: a dog, enormous and mossy, watching them from among the trees.

No amount of calling and cajoling brings the best toward them, but when the dog had begun walking off Dief had followed without hesitation, leaving Fraser to come along or no as he would. They'd followed the strange animal on what began to feel almost like a path through the woods, strangely clear and easy to move along despite no signs of having been cleaned or kept up by man. It was hardly a surprise at all when the path led to a cabin he'd never seen before, sitting empty and cold but neat and sturdy for all that. He'd left Dief outside with the strange dog and gone to look for any signs of life.

There were none. The cabin was empty and mostly bare of supplies, but in the bedroom he found an impossible treasure: an old six-string acoustic guitar, tucked carefully away into its case. Even better, when he'd carefully lifted the thing out to inspect it, he'd found the case contained even more riches: extra packets of strings, a few picks, even a somewhat stiff capo.

Now, when he's finished work for the day, Fraser can be found on the porch steps of the house on Thompson's Drive with the guitar in his lap. On the first evening, he'll be there stringing it; on subsequent evenings someone might hear the rippling sounds of a fingerpicked accompaniment and a pleasant baritenor voice singing along. ]

ii.

[ But the Mountie isn't always in the woods. After an excursion to what remains of the outdoor gear store, he can also be found down on the frozen Basin, accompanied by the hissing sound of his hockey skates over the ice as he makes long loops or short sprints or simply skates backward in long, graceful swoops. Or perhaps someone nearby might hear the smack of a stick hitting a puck and the muffled thunk of said puck driving into a snowbank.

There's another stick and more pucks on the bank, just in case anyone would like to join him in his games. ]

Comments

I

[solitarysoul]

[One one of his aimless wanderings of town patrols Levi comes across Fraser working on his trunk. He watches for a moment before speaking up.]

What are you doing?

[maintiensledroit]

Hello, Levi.

[ The Mountie pauses and straightens, hammer in hand, before glancing down at the trunk and back at the young man. ]

I'm building a smoker. Have you ever used one? You hang the meat inside, here --

[ He gestures to the nails he'd been hammering into the interior of the log. ]

And build a fire with green wood chips beneath.

[solitarysoul]

[He shakes his head.]

Never. I don't think I've even seen one before.

[He hasn't if they all look like that, at least.]

What are green wood chips?

[maintiensledroit]

Chips made from fresh wood. They smolder, you see, instead of burning cleanly.

[ Fraser pushes the log up to its end and shows Levi a space at the base where said chips could be piled and set alight. ]

Then you close up any openings and let the meat sit in the smoke for... oh, six hours, or so. It helps dry out and preserve the meat, so it'll last for longer. We can use it for fish, for venison... anything people won't eat right away.

ii u///u

[castitas]

[ It's not the first time she's heard music in the air. Sure, she provides plenty of it herself with her nigh-daily violin practices in the Community Hall, but from others — it's mostly Eddie with his late-late night jam sessions when the skies are filled with light. But... this—? This is... different.

She hears it well enough, it's close by — almost like it's down the street as she makes her way back to the Community Hall. She takes the detour, walking along Thompson's Drive in search of the source.

When she realises just who's playing, singing even — she stops, eyes wide for a moment: utterly charmed. Her hands come together, wringing a little in her fluster as she watches. Is she blushing? No, totally just the cold. Totally not blushing at all.

... Gosh.

But she waits until he's finished before she speaks up, shifting her weight from foot to foot shyly. ]

Hey, Constable Fraser. [ STILL NOT TOTALLY BLUSHING. ] You're really good. I didn't know you played anything?

[maintiensledroit]

[ Fraser is leaning over the neck of the guitar, carefully tuning it, when her voice comes. Beside him, Diefenbaker perks up, ears alert, but doesn't get up off his belly as the man smiles over at her. ]

Hi, Kate.

[ He hasn't seen much of her since La'an's death, and he's pleased to note that she looks much better this evening, pink-cheeked from the cold. Fraser ducks his own head at her compliment, then shifts the guitar on his lap back into a playing position, fingers idle over the strings and frets. ]

That's very kind of you to say. Yes, I learned when I was younger, and I've enjoyed playing ever since. I've often found a little music is a fine way to while away long hours.

[ His smile turns more encouraging, trying to mitigate her shyness. ]

You play, don't you? Isn't that you I sometimes hear practicing violin?

[castitas]

[ Oh, hey Diefenbaker — Kate waves at the wolf, her hand low and fingers waggling to entice him over for pets. Like she wants to give you pets because you're a good boy, but also do you wanna come be a nice distraction from her gushing? That'd be neat. ]

That's really cool.

[ It's so cool. And gosh, he's noticed the fact she plays. She's shy for a moment, quietly bashful but pleased. ]

Yeah, that's me. [ She nods, with a smile. ] I always practiced every morning back home, so I try to keep the habit up. I guess it's kinda something normal in my day? Like, um... familiar?

[ If that, like, makes sense. ]

What were you playing? I don't think I know the song.

i.

[bestsir]

Out and about one day, Goodsir hears the sound of hammering and goes to look, finding Fraser hard at work.

He's about to ask what the man is up to when he remembers something he hasn't thought of in a very long time: the fishermen of Anstruther smoking herring and haddock.

He approaches, curious, and asks, "Is that for fish?"

[maintiensledroit]

You have a good eye.

[ Fraser straightens, smiling, holding the hammer lightly in one gloved hand. Nearby, Diefenbaker makes a soft little whine of interest, but settles his head back down on his paws again with a sigh. ]

Not that that's a surprise. Yes, for fish. And venison.

[ Although the deer here are... a little strange. And he has yet to find any caribou. ]

Seeing as our resources are somewhat limited, I thought it might be beneficial to offer a method of curing and preserving meat that doesn't rely wholly on salt or cold.

[bestsir]

Ah—yes. Very sensible. The fishermen in my home village would craft similar things out of old barrels.

ii;

[lanfeared]

[ As much as it remains Lanfear's preference to keep her own company first and foremost, she knows it'll look more suspicious if she doesn't emerge from the house March is generously letting her occupy every once in a while. Selene would look for any opportunity to show her face, to indicate that she can be of use to the small community here.

It's with that reminder hovering in the back of her mind that Lanfear finally sets out on a short walk, even if she feels rather aimless in having an ultimate purpose, uncertain about who she could pop in on for a quick visit.

Fortunately, the music is the indication she needs, a calming tune that brooks invitation all its own, and while Lanfear doesn't often pride herself on an appreciation for art and music the way that some of her fellow Chosen do, that doesn't mean she can't bask in a song when the mood strikes. What proves more surprising is its source, as she rounds the corner and finds the constable seated on the steps leading up to one of the houses, eyebrow arching with a combination of curiosity and amusement.

She'll wait until he's finished the song in question, until the last notes of it ring out in the air, before breaking the silence that ensues. ]

I didn't realize we could add "gleeman" to your list of skills, Constable Fraser.

[maintiensledroit]

I'm not sure we can.

[ He says it cheerfully, straightening from where he'd been bent over the guitar to look at her. If there's a slight flush to the tips of his ears, it's probably due to the cold. ]

I'm hardly a professional. Only an enthusiastic amateur.

Do you sing? Or play anything?

[lanfeared]

No part of that performance would be out of place at my inn in the Foregate.

[ Her smile, by all appearances, is bright and genuine, as she shifts so that she's not standing directly over him but off to one side, her hands securely jammed into the pockets of her (borrowed) jacket for the moment.

His inquiry elicits a small, self-deprecating chuckle, as Lanfear shakes her head slowly. ]

A talent that I cannot call my own, I'm afraid. I leave those abilities to the ones who are better-suited to holding a tune. But I suppose I can now count you among them.

I.

[goingtobeunwell]

On one of Fraser's hunts for the right tree he happens across another man seeking to gather and preserve meat. Crozier's habit is to keep track of his traps on a little notebook kept secreted away against his chest. He joints down quick notes about whatever animal he's caught and how often he's caught them, but lately his luck's been a little sour, his day's haul a mere rabbit and nothing more. It makes it all the more imperative that he save what he can in case of a late frost.

He pauses as he sees movement ahead and crouches down low.

[maintiensledroit]

This isn't a part of the woods he's spent much time exploring, but someone has: there are tracks in the snow and traces of rabbit activity. He's studying a nearby snare when Diefenbaker perks up, ears high, and turns his lifted head toward the trees, scenting the air.

Fraser glances at the wolf, then peers into the quiet, snowy spaces between the trees. "Hello," he calls, friendly. "Don't worry, we won't disturb your trap."

[goingtobeunwell]

Ah. It's the man with the sensible head on his shoulders and his very clever dog. He hasn't formally met him, but the town isn't big enough to not have at least seen him from a distance.

Crozier steps out from his cover and pulls down his hood. "There's nothing to disturb. Trap's been empty for three days now."

ii but after the Kate convo

[meadqueen]

[One of the best things about this little community is that there always seems to be music playing somewhere. Randvi follows the sound and is surprised to see Constable Fraser there, playing a stringed instrument.

She listens appreciatively until the song ends, then approaches him.]

You're quite talented.

[maintiensledroit]

[ He pauses in an idle arpeggio of fingerpicked notes, then looks up to nod at his new companion. ]

That's kind of you to say. Hello, Randvi, I hope I wasn't disturbing you...?

[meadqueen]

Oh, no, it was lovely.

Besides, I was hoping to speak with you, if you have a moment.

ii

[lieutenantsteward]

[Thomas doesn't know how to do anything except walk. He's only known walking. He's only known how to put one foot in front of the other on patrol, as he wanders through the snow, doing patrols with Edward and whoever else is around.

The sound of skating on the ice is new, though. It's not something he's used to. People who skate on the ice fall on their ass more often than not.

Thomas can't help but stare over the ice, watching as the man gracefully drives the - puck, is it - into the snow.]

What is that you're doing?

[maintiensledroit]

[ Nearby, a large dog – wolf? – lying in a snowbank lifts its head to look at the speaker. On the ice, Fraser straightens from where he's digging through the snow with the blade of his stick, trying to find the puck he'd just driven in. ]

Oh, just reliving some childhood memories.

[ A practiced flick of his hands and wrists and the puck comes scattering out onto the ice again. He pushes himself into a glide, guiding the small rubber circle over the ice with small adjustments of the stick's blade, until he comes to a stop in front of the other man, smiling. His hand is thickly gloved when he offers it to shake. ]

Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

[lieutenantsteward]

[That certainly is a title and Thomas smiles, a little caught off guard by it. He steps closer, though doesn't dare step on the ice. Not in his regular boots.

He does offer his own mittened hand for a shake. It's a bit of a mock movement, since they can't actually move their fingers, but the intent is there.]

Thomas Jopson. We would play on the ice like this as children. But - with a ball or rocks and not this. [He leans down and picks up the puck, handing it over to him.]

[itio]

[ Jim hasn't been afforded the privilege of a peaceful arrival, or even the time to settle, but he's got the feeling that's the case for everyone who's brought here. Between this and his previous time travel adventure that ended in the worst possible way, he really has been having a rough time, and he never seems to be able to catch a breather for long enough to even let bad news settle.

Processing La'an's death or the fact that she was here for months ends up having to wait, in the midst of the Darkwalker's ressurgence. It's not an experience Jim likes, even if he comes out of it physically unscathed— which is more than what can be said for its victims, this time around. The awareness that this must be the same fate that La'an suffered weighs on him heavily, and he looks especially despondent, even as he finds the address Fraser wrote down on his note, hoping he'll find the man around as he knocks. ]

[maintiensledroit]

[ He's at a neatly cleared and wiped down kitchen table when the knock comes, his attention bent on the edge he's putting on a simple folding pocket knife. Diefenbaker is closer to the fire, curled on a rug near the hearth, and though he lifts his ears and his eyes to the door, the wolf doesn't move... it's warm and comfortable where he is.

Fraser glances up, sets aside both knife and sharpening stone next to a little vial of oil and cloth on the table, then comes to the door. He's out of uniform today, wearing jeans and a turtleneck under a red-checked flannel shirt, but the man on the other side of the door is a stranger and wouldn't be familiar with the Mountie's uniform, anyway.

Fraser pulls the door open a little further, lifting his eyebrows in polite inquisition. ]

Hello. Can I help you?

[itio]

[ It's really cold outside. Colder than it was in Toronto, and Jim's having a rough time with it. He's managed to find some layers, boots, a thick coat and a pair of gloves, but even then he's shivering, and resisting the urge to just step into the man's house the moment the door opens. ]

Benton Fraser? [ Once he gets confirmation, he introduces himself, in the process explaining why he's here right now. ] I'm James Kirk. I put up a note on the message board.