Deputy US Marshal Givens (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tinstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-05-04 10:23 am
tinstar) wrote in singillatim2024-05-04 10:23 am
Just a miner flashback
Who: Raylan and whoever runs into him
What: Getting settled and poking around
When: Early May
Where: Around Milton, it's outskirts, the Milton Mine Entrance
Content Warnings: Possible mentions of claustrophobia, mine death, illness; Drinking
Raylan had spent his first night in the community hall, though sleep wasn't something that he saw much off, dozing lightly under his Stetson for an hour or two at one point to give everyone a break from him eyeballing them. The time was spent figuring - wrapping his head around all the metaphorical doors that had been opened, 'what it all meant', planning for the next day and not a single thought about his ex-wife. The latter of which was a blessing and the amount of fat he'd been given to chew kept the Jim Beam bottle that sat heavy in his jacket closed. He had a feeling whiskey was going to be in short supply.
A very practical minded man, as soon as the sun was up Raylan and his hat were out of the door, collar turned up to fight against wind on his neck. He knew that not everyone lived in the community hall and no offense to dorm rooms but he was well past collage dorm room age. He was a man who needed his own space, his own door. So he set out onto the small town and studied what he could. It was almost heartening to see a clothing store, and it was the first place he poked his head into, followed very shortly after by the hunting supply store. He was sure that most of the stock had been raided, but there was no harm in seeing what they had and he could be found picking through what was left. It garnered him a bag at least, to store the few long sleeve shirts and one heavy jacket to wear instead of the denim he was currently sporting. Denim wasn't great at beating back the cold.
But once he had a bag of goods, he set out to see if he could find a house that could keep him out of the cold. Then he could worry about if he was going to eat today. It was strange to have to think about it in this way, but Raylan was taking things one step at a time. Stabilize himself, see what he could see, meet who he could and take the general social temperatures. What kind of mess had he found himself in?
Eventually, he finds himself on Greene Street and into a humble little house, one that seemed relatively untouched, and decides to claim it as his own. Though he didn't know if there was a way to do that beyond just inhabiting the place. He'd figure that out too.
Raylan had been told where Lakeside was and how to get to it but the obstacle that needed to get worked through was the mines. The Marshal might not look like it, clean, unstained by the coal dust that permeated his blood and history, but he'd spent near a year down in a mine and he wasn't eager to get back in one. He wasn't a man that was scared by much - no gunslinger or brutal terrorist ever get him feeling fear, but mines were different. He knew what could happen, regardless of if it was being actively mined or not. He could almost still feel the rush of carbon monoxide that rushed after the men when the collapse happen, could still almost hear the cries of surprise and terror. He'd worked so hard to get away from mines, to get away from the life that came with living by them, living with them, and yet here he was all over again.
19 and desperate to get out of Harlan. Desperate to be something more.
Despite the wind kicking up, he couldn't bring himself to leave, stuck somewhere in his head as he stares into the dark depths. No matter what happened, he knew he'd eventually be back in that pit, in that darkness.
Raylan's priority was getting himself settled and as comfortable as one could manage in a place like this, spending a few days cleaning the small cabin he's claimed and hunting around for some basic tools. Nails, boards, a handsaw. Not only did it give him a chance to look around a bit more, but it gave him time to think and time to stand in front of the message board, reading over everyone's various pinned up pieces of paper. He knows he should be less happy about the lack of cell signal, the lack of cell really, but it was one tiny relief that he'd enjoy. Until he didn't enjoy it anymore, anyway.
[You can find Raylan ambling around Milton or at the Community Hall! Feel free to make your own starter if you like!]
What: Getting settled and poking around
When: Early May
Where: Around Milton, it's outskirts, the Milton Mine Entrance
Content Warnings: Possible mentions of claustrophobia, mine death, illness; Drinking
A Chilly welcome
Raylan had spent his first night in the community hall, though sleep wasn't something that he saw much off, dozing lightly under his Stetson for an hour or two at one point to give everyone a break from him eyeballing them. The time was spent figuring - wrapping his head around all the metaphorical doors that had been opened, 'what it all meant', planning for the next day and not a single thought about his ex-wife. The latter of which was a blessing and the amount of fat he'd been given to chew kept the Jim Beam bottle that sat heavy in his jacket closed. He had a feeling whiskey was going to be in short supply.
► In Milton
A very practical minded man, as soon as the sun was up Raylan and his hat were out of the door, collar turned up to fight against wind on his neck. He knew that not everyone lived in the community hall and no offense to dorm rooms but he was well past collage dorm room age. He was a man who needed his own space, his own door. So he set out onto the small town and studied what he could. It was almost heartening to see a clothing store, and it was the first place he poked his head into, followed very shortly after by the hunting supply store. He was sure that most of the stock had been raided, but there was no harm in seeing what they had and he could be found picking through what was left. It garnered him a bag at least, to store the few long sleeve shirts and one heavy jacket to wear instead of the denim he was currently sporting. Denim wasn't great at beating back the cold.
But once he had a bag of goods, he set out to see if he could find a house that could keep him out of the cold. Then he could worry about if he was going to eat today. It was strange to have to think about it in this way, but Raylan was taking things one step at a time. Stabilize himself, see what he could see, meet who he could and take the general social temperatures. What kind of mess had he found himself in?
Eventually, he finds himself on Greene Street and into a humble little house, one that seemed relatively untouched, and decides to claim it as his own. Though he didn't know if there was a way to do that beyond just inhabiting the place. He'd figure that out too.
► Milton Mines
Raylan had been told where Lakeside was and how to get to it but the obstacle that needed to get worked through was the mines. The Marshal might not look like it, clean, unstained by the coal dust that permeated his blood and history, but he'd spent near a year down in a mine and he wasn't eager to get back in one. He wasn't a man that was scared by much - no gunslinger or brutal terrorist ever get him feeling fear, but mines were different. He knew what could happen, regardless of if it was being actively mined or not. He could almost still feel the rush of carbon monoxide that rushed after the men when the collapse happen, could still almost hear the cries of surprise and terror. He'd worked so hard to get away from mines, to get away from the life that came with living by them, living with them, and yet here he was all over again.
19 and desperate to get out of Harlan. Desperate to be something more.
Despite the wind kicking up, he couldn't bring himself to leave, stuck somewhere in his head as he stares into the dark depths. No matter what happened, he knew he'd eventually be back in that pit, in that darkness.
► Wildcard
Raylan's priority was getting himself settled and as comfortable as one could manage in a place like this, spending a few days cleaning the small cabin he's claimed and hunting around for some basic tools. Nails, boards, a handsaw. Not only did it give him a chance to look around a bit more, but it gave him time to think and time to stand in front of the message board, reading over everyone's various pinned up pieces of paper. He knows he should be less happy about the lack of cell signal, the lack of cell really, but it was one tiny relief that he'd enjoy. Until he didn't enjoy it anymore, anyway.
[You can find Raylan ambling around Milton or at the Community Hall! Feel free to make your own starter if you like!]
no subject
Ah, not yet, no… [ Every time he's thought about making the trip, his mind conjures up tunnels; buried deep underground, all of them looking identical and difficult to navigate in times of crisis. He grew up underground, but caves and mines are different beasts. ] I think I might prefer caves to mines.
[ A short laugh, breath clouding around him as it hits the cold air. Coming to a stop, he adjusts his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and glances ahead at the main entrance to the mines. ]
This is about as far as I've come.
no subject
Might be a smarter choice, not goin' any further. Doesn't much look like they're in great repair.
I only just arrived. You been here long? [Could be that the man just hadn't gotten around to biting that bullet - no shame in that.]
no subject
Yeah, I can't blame you — I uh… [ a beat of hesitation as he gauges the man's demeanour. ] Well, I grew up in this big cave back home, so… I guess I'm more used to them.
[ Growing up in a cave isn't considered the norm by most people here, and he looks a little awkward saying as much. It's his lived reality, though, no point shying away from it. ]
They had some trouble getting through them, I think. I've only been here a couple of months… late February, maybe? It was shortly after I got here that they started heading into 'em.
no subject
I imagine there's a cave or two around these parts that'll put those skills to good use. Better to have someone with them around.
[He looks back at the mine with a faint nod as the man continues, jaw working a little in a thoughtless stress gesture that was best described as Raylan chewing his metaphorical liver. So many variables that didn't even begin to encapsulate whatever hoodoo shit was going on. The cuts on his eyebrow and lip were crusted and one eye starting to blacken in the inner corner - Raylan had recently been in a fight, a likely contributor to the tinge of sour under the practiced façade of congeniality.
He looks back.]
Sorry - Raylan Givens. [The Stetson on his head is tipped by long fingers.] Tryin' to get the lay of the land.
no subject
You'd think so, yeah, [ a short laugh. ] I was so young, though, and I don't think any of us really knew what we were talking about. The caves here… Well, I'd be wary of animals, probably.
[ Maccready catches the gesture, figures it's as subconscious as the way he's likely to fidget with the wooden figure tucked away in his pocket. While the cuts and fresh bruises certainly catch his attention, he's definitely not the kind of person to pass judgement — as long as this man isn't causing trouble with him, it's none of his business. ]
RJ Maccready, [ he inclines his head. ] Bored of Milton already, huh?
[ It's said as a joke, but there's implication behind his words; Milton is quiet, safe for the most part, and he can see how it might not be the speed everyone is used to. ]
no subject
Raylan kept himself relaxed and casual, tone that of neighbors chatting about the weather as he bobs his head in the expected slight acknowledgement, smiling crookedly at the question that follows. He could hear the implication, that Milton wasn't big or showy or busy enough - Raylan doubted that Lakeside was any real difference, but he was also a man who didn't care much about where he habitated.]
I knew a few Maccreadys' back in the day. Don't suppose any of those caves were in Kentucky, was it? [He doubts it, oh so much. But he can't help but think about Loretta. Girl was gonna run the county one day, tough as nails and suffered no fools.]
Not bored at all. Just interested in seein' how the infrastructure has held up, seein' if I should expect any fires or explosions, gas creeps. [You know, normal regular people concerns, not indicative of his experience in them at all, no way.]
Figured it's better to know what's in the area too, just happened to start with the most interestin'. But if people are goin' through them without ill effect, either it's fine or y'all've gotten lucky. I'll be stickin' around this side of the pit for a while yet, gettin' to know folks, seein' how your community works.
no subject
Really? [ huh. ] Uh, no, sorry… D.C. is where I'm from originally, but most of the people here, we're all from different… Times? I guess.
[ There are people here from before the 2000s; which to Maccready is absolutely unthinkable. He nods at Raylan's explanation, though, it's reasonable to want to look around and get a sense for these things, and the way he speaks tells Maccready he's at least logically minded, maybe. That's a valuable asset here, multiple perspectives coming together to solve problems. It helped with getting through the mines in the first place, he imagines, and he hopes it'll be the thing that gets them home. ]
Mm, I think there's probably some luck involved, I won't lie. But, I know there it wasn't all that easy getting through; lot of sections had flooded apparently, and when the uh— [ he gestures towards the sky. ] When the Auroras happen, the electrics kick back in. Doesn't mix well with water.
no subject
[Small wins were comforting and made him feel less generally insane. He wasn't going to panic and freak out about it all, but it was more than strange and had to be taken at face value. He sure as hell wasn't going to stumble over such a small detail as things he can't control or fully understand.
He nods thoughtfully as he listens to Maccready, jaw chewing on that proverbial liver a little bit as he resists the urge to look back at the mine.]
So mostly straight across type of mine with a few dips in the way. Wonder if that means they were workin' on a tunnel maybe. Or if they started and the rock composition didn't look promisin'. Hmm. [He couldn't help it, he looks back at the mines.]
Questions for another day, I suppose, but it's good to figure out what they are. Like I said. Ain't quite ready to go all the way until get a better grip on this side anyway. You got any suggestions for places I oughta make myself acquainted with while I'm nosin' around?
no subject
[ Maccready listens as the man makes his assessment of the mine though, nods quietly. Caves he can at least talk about a little, mines less so. Maybe when he eventually manages to get further than he's currently gotten, he'll understand more of what Raylan is saying, but for now he'll take the other man's word. ]
Well, there's the Community Hall; you've probably been there already, but if you haven't looked around properly, there's a bulletin board other people use. It's probably the most useful point of call if you're looking for help with somethin' or think you have skills you can offer others. There's also the general store, and one of the other guys here set up a library.
[ What else is there, really? Anything else of note would no doubt be advertised on the bulletin board, and likely do a better job at explaining it than he could. ]
no subject
[Raylan rolled with the punches because it was generally the path of least resistance and no matter how he may have mentally bucked at the first approach of this whole... Thing, with time, he'd relax more and more. No use fussing over what he couldn't change.
He nods at the answer.]
Don't know that I've got any needs, aside from someone handy with a pair of scissors and a needle but I suppose that sounds like the place I oughta offer willin' and capable hands... And to see if anyone's got cards and likes poker - You know what poker is, Maccready?
no subject
The name might be the same, but sometimes I think it may as well be an alien planet. I'm learnin' more from the people who are from other Earths than I want to… [ like, what is he supposed to do with the knowledge if they're able to get out of here. It's not pleasant, knowing some people could be going to go back to happy, comfy lives. ] I guess it doesn't matter all that much.
[ And, in spite of all the differences, there are still plenty of similarities; mention of poker just has Maccready grimacing slightly. ]
Yeah, I've lost more caps 'n I can count— [ a scoff, at his own expense. ] Let's say poker is not within a skill set I'd be offering.
no subject
[Still, he cracks a crooked grin at Maccready's grimace.]
Sounds like you've been fleeced a time or two. Practice makes perfect, but I understand. It just ain't some people's thing; that's okay. I'm sure I ask around enough, I'll find someone willin' to play. Give me at least somethin' to look forward to.. Anyway, I don't plan on standin' around outside this mind all day, you want some company back to Milton?
no subject
Oh, Christ, more I'd care to admit. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer eventually, if it really is just about the practice. Don't doubt there'd be people willing to bite your hands off for a game, though, entertainment's pretty scarce.
[ Poker night at the Community Hall? Sure, why not. Or maybe they could utilise someone's cabin; or heck, there's enough sitting empty. Money here isn't really as big a deal to him as it is back home, so… It could be fun. In the meantime, he glances back towards the mine entrance a final time, deciding that today definitely isn't the day he's making it through, and turning his back on it. ]
Sure thing, I won't turn an extra pair of eyes down.
[ Not that he expects anything to happen, but can't be too safe. ]
no subject
Maybe a hope and a bit of sanity was pinned on that.]
I imagine so. Real shame I didn't come with a brass band's worth of equipment; we could start a washboard band. Though I don't think this environment would be.. suitable for banjo...
[He turns with Maccready and heads back towards Milton.]
no subject
Well, you're in luck, I think there's some people back in town who are at least musically inclined.
[ Whether they're musically skilled is a matter he has no real knowledge about, maybe they sound like a bunch of cats being strangled. Regardless, it seems to him Raylan will be able to find a place for himself here, curry some favour through cards or song. His boots sink into the snow with a crunch as they walk, and he's reminded of the toll this place really has on all of them, and heaves out a quiet sigh. ]
Whatever forms of entertainment end up coming to fruition, I think we could all use the morale boost.
no subject
Being a tall man, Raylan's steps could be on the longer side, but he was a polite enough to keep pace with Maccready's. A few hours wasn't too bad a walk and he wasn't afraid to make the trip, but he's glad he found some proper hiking type boots that were thicker and came with more traction than his cowboy boots. He already missed them.]
I was pokin' around when I first got here, tryin' to see if there was anythin' that y'all had that might be that, be a morale boost. Maybe it's just that it ain't been long enough. [He had hoped to hear something - a bonfire or a monthly meal with everyone on either side of the mine...]
So, grew up in caves, bettin' with caps, this place a step up or step down for you?
no subject
[ He supposes he can appreciate live music; it's been a while since he last heard Magnolia play, and, well, now he's not sure when he'll get to again… if at all. And as far as anything happening in town, he can't think of much. There's a gap in the market as it were, ripe pickings for anyone to organise something. He's willing to bet most people would be open to anything. ]
Ah— [ the question is a fair one, and he adjusts his cap, a wry smile forming on his lips. ] That one's sorta complicated. It's probably a step up, if I'm being realistic — a lot of the things here are the same as at home, y'know? There's stuff that's better, but in other ways… I dunno, it's a big step down.
[ His smile falters, turns pensive. He has to ask himself; if he didn't have obligations back in the Wasteland, if he didn't have Duncan, would he even care about getting back? Or about what might happen to him here? ]
What about you?
no subject
He keeps his eyes forward mostly, but glances over now and then as Maccready talks, nodding faintly as he follows along. If he had to bet on what was a step down, his first jump would be to People. Humans were human were human after all, some needed bonds never changed, no matter how many centuries had passed.]
I'm sure the lack of electricity and warmth, not to mention the food, is a step down for everyone. Unless you're already used to that. [That definitely a possibility.] Personally, I'm addin' the lack of whiskey to that list.
Outside of that.. [He shrugs.] Only other thing this place is missing for me is work and space, and it'd be about comprobable to what I'm used to. Only a step down around creature comforts. I'd much rather be back in Miami on a beach, but I've weathered winters before. It's tough and it ain't fun, but it's survivable.
[Poor man didn't understand what could happen here. How bad it could get, how many feelings could get drug out kicking and screaming in the 'night'. That step down was gonna get a lot steeper.]
so sorry to raylan
[ A sort of grimace forms on his lips, as he glances off to the side, sucks in a deep breath that he exhales in the form of a sigh. He can't imagine willingly wanting to spend time on a beach; between the mirelurk nests and the water that laps against the shore in all its radioactive glory? Well, it's unappealing. ]
Electricity at home is scarce unless you're in one of the bigger settlements that have generators or fusion cores. And food is… well, it depends. I grew up with very little and there are plenty of others who have next to nothing, and everything you can get a hold of has some level of radiation, so…
[ He trails off, because it's one of those things where, as he speaks, he becomes aware it's pretty far from most people's normal. Most people weren't living in the aftermath of an apocalypse, at least not until they arrived here. Granted, some conversing has revealed others might have been on the edge of one, but, still. He agrees about the whiskey, though, and has done some pretty unspeakable things just for a drink. ]
It's survivable.
[ He echoes the words, because honestly, they're applicable; whether here or back in the Wasteland. ]
no subject
Raylan now had money on bombs having been dropped.
He's silent for a long moment, letting the crunch of their boots in the snow fill the air instead of subpar apologies that didn't do shit for either one of them.]
Seems a lotta terrible things are. For better or worse, I guess. Suppose that it's good we're so resilient, keep some of the species around and populated and everythin'...
[Finally, he couldn't help himself.]
How many centuries has it been since it happened?
no subject
So, they trudge along and Maccready hums, quiet, in acknowledgement of the man's statement. There's resilience, sure, he supposes he's just one in a long line of people that prove that. A lot of luck, too, he imagines, and sometimes that luck goes all the way back — before the bombs — determining if you got a spot in a Vault or not. Though, the more he's learned about those, he's not sure if it's fair to call them unlucky. He kicks at a rock jutting out of the snow, as if it has personally offended him. ]
Definitely a smaller population, that's for sure. More scattered? Hard to imagine what a bustling city might've been like.
[ He's picked through ruins, of cities and suburbs alike, so much room for people, now laying empty. But, to answer the question; ]
'Bout two, or thereabouts. I think it's weirder for the people who remember what it was like than it is for people like me who don't know any different.
no subject
They're loud and they smell bad, but I won't lie and say it ain't worth it sometimes.
[That much activity could be a lot and hell, Lexington wasn't exactly a large hub of the country. Just the state and that was large enough. Raylan follows along in lockstep, understanding the context all up until that last bit. His brows furrow again, in his confusion.]
I'm sorry, go back- [One long finger gestures in a lazy counter-clockwise circle. ] Two centuries and there are folk left that remember? Bombs curin' agin' or somethin'?
no subject
Oh, uh…
[ He scratches at his jaw. It's one of those things he takes for granted, something he's always been aware of. And it's something that is, inevitably, specific to where — and when — he's from. A light shake is the response as he continues on. ]
Not really… Someone I know says it's more like aging real slow. Boasts he's immortal. They're called ghouls, 'cause they look like walking corpses, but they're no different to most people. Unless they're feral.
[ Maccready practically spits out the latter part of his sentence, glares ahead at the snow. ]
no subject
I'm sure just what the world needs. [His sarcasm is dry, but unmistakable. The best and worst thing about death were the same; people left. They stopped whatever it was they were inflicting on the world. There were a lot of dark paths of possibility if assholes were allowed to jerky out for a few hundred years. God help everyone who had to endure small townie crime bullshit, carved out little fiefdoms over what Raylan imagined to be barren, hard land where they lorded over folks.]
Won't lie and say I ain't glad that we don't see to have those kinda of concerns around here... [He glances over.] Right? No one gettin' like... distemper from the meat or anythin'?
no subject
It's not on the list of things I miss, let's put it that way. [ Well, there are a couple of ghouls he sort of misses, but that's beside the point. ] At least, for the time being, nothing like that seems to be a worry here, but there are… other things.
[ The Darkwalker, namely, who knows what else is out there that they just haven't had the displeasure of encountering yet. He's no optimist, but he'd really like to hope that the Darkwalker really is the worst of it. ]
Anyone told you about the big antlered creature yet? They're calling it the Darkwalker, but if you ask me, it's kind of a dumb name.