Part One: The Cabin

[lestercraft]

Who: Arthur Lester and others
What: Adjusting to life and vision
When: Late August/Early Sept
Where: Largely Milton generally

Content Warnings: Catch-all warning for Malevolent content (Lovecraftian horror et al) and spoilers through S5


Getting by on getting by (Early on)

It took Arthur a few days for it to really sink in.

It was one thing to know that John wasn't there, that he had his vision back, his arm and leg and was expected to just. Learn how to survive all over again, in a new town in a new world in an environment he had only ever associated with death and hardship, not least of all his own.

It was another entirely to make peace with the fact: to finish smashing the mirrors in his claimed cabin and screaming for Kayne until his voice went hoarse. Either the god wasn't listening or couldn't hear him, and Arthur wasn't sure which was worse.

This too shall pass. And if it didn't, then he'd fucking well learn to live with it. Just like everything else.

The house next to his had been half demolished by something in the past, which left him with plenty of lumber to wade through the ruins and collect, ripping it loose with his gloved hands if he has to, and board over the bottom storey windows of his own cabin. And an empty house across the street provided blankets aplenty to throw over his shoulders, and haul awkwardly back to cut to shreds and insulate the windows inside.

(It also gave him a quite stellar view of the community centre, so. Something to stare at and make notes on, memorise the silhouettes when he needed a break.

Anything but thinking.)

Make Yourself Seen (September)

After that, he hasn't got much excuse to avoid people.

He'd met a few people already, but this time he's rugged up securely in scavenged clothes, hiding his malnourished frame. Not much to be done about the rough sand scars across his right temple, but at least he could hide his ruined ear beneath a knit hat and pray no-one asked much further.

So he starts actively hanging around. Exploring Milton properly. There's plenty of people to meet, it seems like, even if all he does is loiter around the message board. He does eventually pin something there, nondescript and no-nonsense about it, before he walks away.

Comments

[lestercraft]

Arthur's jaw tightens somewhat, hiding a quiet swallow.

('It wasn't pleasant.' Arthur knows exactly how deeply unpleasant a lack of resources can be. And what other options can be forced upon them.)

But when Konstantin smile, he manages another one back. "That's excellent forethought. Thank you - a-and if there's anything I can do to help, to- pull my weight, in helping out here," with a gesture at Milton in general. "Please let me know. If we're all stuck here, then the greatest value lies in making sure we all stay alive here."

[sputnik]

Konstantin nods his agreement, though there's an odd weight that forms in the center of his chest. They've lost people in his year since being in this place. They've failed to keep everyone here alive. It's... a strange feeling of failure. Maybe if he'd acted more, done more... maybe he could have done something to stop the deaths that have occurred. But he tries not to fall into that despair, to be a positive, uplifting presence, the way he needed to be for his men back home.

"There are lots of things you could get your hands on, around here. We have a little store that's always in need of supplies, and the community center always needs chopped wood. Ah, and how's your ice fishing? I've been teaching myself how, and I could always use a buddy." He grins, clapping one hand good-naturedly to Arthur's shoulder.

[lestercraft]

Ah, so the third option presents itself - a man holding onto joy because to do anything less is letting despair rule the roost. Something far more palatable, in his opinion.

He doesn't shy away from the touch, instead letting it draw a soft huff out of him. "I don't think I've fished since I was a boy, I wouldn't be able to say if ice fishing was any more different than 'substantially colder', but- I'm more than willing to give it a shot, certainly."

[sputnik]

Can't become consumed by the horrors and despairs if you don't let yourself think too much about them, right! ....Right? Maybe one of these days, the cosmonaut's method of trying to keep moving, keep running from those worse things, will turn around to bite him in the ass. But until then — he's all bright smiles and friendly tactile affection, never shy even in the face of people he's just met.

He draws back enough so that he can cross his arms comfortably across his chest, laughing in delight at that. "I won't lie to you, it has been quite the challenge to figure out, but I think I'm getting better at it. Last time, I managed to catch two fish instead of one." He winks playfully.

"But we can learn more of this hardcore survivalist stuff together. Truthfully, I'm pretty green to it myself — all my years of space training and none of it really helps me here. No need for fishing up in the stars."

[lestercraft]

That gets a soft laugh out of Arthur - that turns into a violent shiver when the wind picks up for a moment and attacks his upturned collar. Fuck, he's too skinny for this shit.

"W-well, I'm-- I'll admit I'm a little out of practice, I-I-I haven't done anything quite like this since- since I was in boys brigade, as a child. It's- a church initiative, sort of," he suddenly feels compelled to explained, because the Russian probably has no fucking idea. "To try and raise us to be - good Christian youths. Couldn't stand the thing, but i-it turns out at least some of the skills have stuck with me."

But now he's desperately curious: "S-sorry, what d'you mean, space training?"

[sputnik]

Konstantin notices the shiver, brows lifting in open concern. The other man does look pretty worse for wear, and he could use some thicker clothing, too. Might be hard to find things still left around this place, but not impossible. The cosmonaut makes a note to keep an eye out — hell, he's sure he has some items he could give the other man, too.

"Ahhh, good Christian youths.... Sounds like a fun time." Though he's grinning, it's clear he's being sarcastic, though he keeps it playful. Swallowing back his kneejerk sharp flinch away from the concept of religion at all — it's clear Arthur met the idea with less than enthusiasm, himself.

"At least you got something out of it!" But then he pauses at the question, considering how to answer. It's not his first time bumping into someone who's unfamiliar, and it's telling of what kind of time this new Interloper must come from — somewhere in his own past.

"As in... up there." He lifts an arm towards the sky, smiling again, a little wistful. "Well, the training was so we could get up there. I'm a cosmonaut — an astronaut, the Americans would say. Mankind started our journey there in 1961. It's 1983 for me now.... What year are you from?"

[lestercraft]

He doesn't look shocked by the news of his years, but there's certainly an edge of awe to it regardless. It was still strange and bizarre, even being here for a week or so now and talking to so many other people, seeing ones who clearly date differently to him.

"Ah- '34, nearly '35, it's- it was December when I came, er. Here. A-at least the last time I knew."