Constable Benton Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maintiensledroit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-02-09 12:17 pm
maintiensledroit) wrote in singillatim2024-02-09 12:17 pm
[open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling
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. ]
ii u///u
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?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
Well, it's an older song. Probably much too old to be of any interest to you. It's by a man named Gordon Lightfoot, quite a famous Canadian folk singer-songwriter. Some people call him our greatest singer-songwriter. I'm not sure about that, but I do like his music, very much.
[ Here, they need all the small comforts they can create for themselves, and music is certainly one of those. He can while away plenty of snowy days and nights if he has a guitar close at hand. ]
What sort of music do you like?
no subject
I don't mind older songs. [ Most of her own music is old, to be fair. ] I... don't think I've heard of him. It sounds— um, really pretty, though?
[ Constable Fraser sings it very pretty. Yeah, she's blushing a little. Don't mind her, it's just the cold. ]
I like a lot of classical music. Mozart's my favourite. [ Which he can probably tell, considering it's definitely the majority of what she plays on her violin. ] And, um.. church hymns, mostly? So I guess there's room for expansion.
I found a Walkman, here? It's pretty retro, but I've been finding a whole bunch of tapes for it and there's lots of cool old music out there? I found one that's a band called... Simon & Garfunkel? They're pretty good!
no subject
[ His smile softens. He's half watching her pet Diefenbaker, half wandering in a distant memory, hearing quiet music playing on the radio in his grandparents' cabin. And this particular song... well, he'd only truly connected with it after... after. ]
And a little sad, too, I suppose. But then many folk songs are, often, both.
[ He listens attentively as she tells him about her Walkman – this is technology familiar to him; plenty of people, both older and younger, use Walkmans as they make their way around Chicago. It's so interesting how different she is from Christina Nichols, the only other teenage girl he's interacted with at much. Christina was wild, but sweet and vulnerable beneath her reckless exterior. Kate is just... sweet. ]
Yes, I think they are, too.
[ He considers for a moment, then takes up the guitar once again, picking out the delicate first notes to The Sound of Silence as he speaks. ]
And Mozart is always a very fine choice. I've always enjoyed classical music.