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!]
Sorry for delay! It's been a month.
"Glad to hear it. But- I guess just be careful about it all the same. This place can be a little dangerous even if you have your wits about you." Just the honest truth and she'd hate for something bad to happen to anyone here, really.
"Not bad. The bridge across is still rickety beyond belief but it's safe an sturdy enough to cross."
No problem! Life happens!
"I'm familiar with mines which means I try my very best to always be careful." They were dangerous places, though thankfully, this one looked like it was at least taller than two and a half feet. That was something. "I'm not plannin' on traversin' that yet though. Just got here. I should probably get familiar with Milton before I start explorin' out, but I hear a good number of folks are over on that side? Any news from the other side?"
Jesus. This felt all too much like the way living up a mountain was except even the hill people of eastern Kentucky had cell service. He hated it and how easily it came to him.
no subject
Now we can at least get in and out without too much trouble." She knew more than a couple people had been zapped by loose wires hanging about.
She tapped her chin in thought for a moment. "Yeah there are a few of us down there, and we're doing our best to make it livable. There's a forge in the scrapyard, and a hydrodam that we might be able to up and running with some work. Might be able to get some power going."
no subject
"That so? Better news than I expected. How common is blacksmithin' as a skill around here? Got anyone makin' like.. Knives or axes? I imagine someone's gotta be handlin' firewood around here, right?"
no subject
"Well- That's actually my specialty. Back at home, or at least in my line of work being able to forge your own weapon is pretty important." And Ruby happened to care a lot about weapons. "As for other people, there are a few that know how to. I haven't been hogging it all to myself, but we might actually want to get a proper head count at some point."
no subject
"Do you.. I don't know, take requests? Do repairs? I'm sure there's plenty of tools around, hell, I've found two axe heads already but they're beaten and dull. I'm hoping to get my hands on a huntin' knife that's of some actual use for something other than tetanus."
Would Ruby know what that was? Raylan was surprised to find himself trying to gauge people based on vague refences to songs or science.