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!]
Milton
"O-oh, I-I-I didn't know anyone was here." Did he interrupt something? There probably wasn't much to interrupt here but he always feels a bit awkward when he runs into someone in one of the stores or still-empty houses.
no subject
His head snaps up at the sound of someone, hand shifting to settle on the butt of his gun stored in his dark walnut patinaed holster, but the sharp readiness of his expression eases at the sight of the boy and his rifle. Shit. This place was pulling kids? His hand drops back to a loose dangle at his side.
"That's alright. Seems to me like it's a public place, nothin' too odd to maybe see someone. I'm Raylan. Just havin' a look around." He aimed for reassuring and nonthreatening, something vastly helped along by his laissez faire tone and general everything.
"Not that it seems there's a lot to look at, now that I'm in here." Wasn't that funny.
no subject
no subject
"More to be taken then just goods. Good to gauge what kinda life people were leadin' here."
no subject
no subject
"What I'm interested in findin' is ammunition. I've already been warned about what's out in the treelines and I imagine that's been collected by, hopefully, a reasonable individual. How community is that?"
no subject
"Um, for the ammo if you know what you're doing I'll just give you some. I gathered up a lot so far. What kind do you need?"
no subject
"So folks are makin' frequent trips," he notes. "I'm a United States Deputy Marshal with a couple of certifications in gun handlin' and marksmanship. If there's one thing I can promise I'm good at, it's shootin'." It's said with the huff of a laugh and ironically.
"I'm lookin for nine millimeter-" He pulls out his sidearm and pops the clip to give the kid a visual example. "Ones that'll fit in here."
no subject
no subject
"I'm gonna end up at the hall again, I can catch you then. My name is Raylan, by the way. You can probably smell the fresh on me, I got in last night."
He had spent the night at the hall, but at some point everyone had gotten fuzzy and Raylan stopped people watching. Plenty to miss.
no subject
no subject
He lifts his chin at little at the rifle on Levi's back.
"How accurate have you gotten with that thing since you been here?" He imagines that it gets a decent amount of use.
Slight mention of child soilders
"Oh, um," this was always a weird subject. People generally didn't like to hear he'd been in the army... "I-i knew how to use it before I got here. I try not to use it much if I can help it." Limited ammo and all that.
no subject
There was something More about the gun there but Raylan wasn't going to dig. It would be rude after all.
"So long as you know how to use it is the important thing," he says with a nod. "I learned when I was young too." If that helped with whatever had caught him. "Have you had to use it too often here?"
He hoped not but his better sense doubted that it was less than a handful of times at best.
no subject
no subject
"They ever come into town? Where I come from, wolves, mountain lions don't usually come in unless somethin' is happenin' up the mountain."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Anyway, I shouldn't hold you up from your patrol. You said you'll be at the Community Hall later? I'll hang around there for a few hours in a few hours, see if I can't catch ya."
no subject
"Yeah, I'll be back there later. Usually around dinner time or sundown, but I might be back sooner. It depends on what paths I take and if I run into anything. And how cold it is." Colder nights made for shorter patrols, usually.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He sighs. "Anyway, so long's we have food and wood, I suppose we'll withstand the cold." How well did everyone survive each other though. "I'll come by. Not exactly a thrivin' nightlife here, so I doubt I'll have anythin' better to do than wait if I'm early."
no subject
He nods, "Alright. I'll see you later, then."