Open | A great peace descends

[goingtobeunwell]

Who: Crozier and OTA
What: A catch-all for end of February/March happenings. Building and re-building, and grieving
Where: Crozier and Raju's Cabin outside of Milton, Milton-proper, the Basin, Lakeside
Warnings: A big ol' warning for cannibalism. Smaller warning for ~Victorians~.


[Catch-all for various closed and open threads. Will be updated as the month progresses. If you have any wild ideas for interactions that don't fit into the top levels, feel free to DM me! c:]

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The Russian Farm

[sputnik]

The damage could have been worse, there's no doubt of that fact. The cabin itself isn't in too bad of shape, having lost some older boards here and there, a window or two needing repair. But it's the other structures that came out worse after the storm — the chicken coop Vasiliy made by hand, the fence, the dog's house. Those things have been pretty much demolished, and it's a weird sort of loss for Konstantin, who's never really had anything to lose. Not like this. Something— stable, secure, safe and lasting. A homebase.

Somehow, over his year in this place, a man who's thrived on never being tethered to anything has found a home with someone else. The thought's as terrifying as it is precious.

But the things can be replaced, remade. Vasiliy's been hard at work to do that, heading out with the young caribou to town on another supply haul. He'll be gone for a good hour or two, and in that time, they've had a visitor. Konstantin's never spoken to the man himself before now, though he's heard much about him. He's the captain of one of those lost ships, a figure in history itself. It's an impressive houseguest to have, and Konstantin was quick to accept the help that Crozier offered.

Especially since there's little he himself can do, these days. It's another odd sense of loss — once strong and capable, the cosmonaut's condition is now perpetually weakened due to the thing inhabiting him. Though he can help here and there, he can't offer as much in the way of physical exertion, and it makes him uneasy.

After a while, he steps back out of the cabin where he'd gone in to stoke the fire, two mugs of tea in hand. Approaching the older man, Konstantin holds one up to him, disposition bright despite his pale clammy hue and the ill glaze to his eyes. He's been even more sick since the storm; he has his suspicions that the cold damaged the creature, injured it a bit.

"Break time?"

Re: The Russian Farm

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier is perfectly aware that his assistance could be less desirable than if offered by someone younger or with more limbs, so he's always grateful when his help's accepted and exceptionally pleased if they happen to be satisfied with his work. The Russian farm, an odd little staple in their community, had taken quite a lot of damage over the storm, and he was more than happy to offer what services he could to help the pair get back on their feet.

He has a soft spot for the Russian people thanks to Svetlana, and clearly growing as he works to mend fences and the chicken coop. There's something about quite literally building a neighbor's home that brings people together, and as he accepts the cup of warm tea he smiles a little more sincerely, a little more brightly.

"Break time," he agrees. "Inside? I'm a bit chilled."

And the Russian man is clearly under the weather.

[sputnik]

"I'm glad to hear you ask that," Konstantin beams, warm and friendly even in the face of a near-stranger, and never shy to show a playfulness either, something that bleeds into his tone and crinkles the corners of his eyes. "I was hoping we could stay inside for a bit."

He's happy to move back that way, to open the door for his guest and let him in first before he'll follow suit. "Please, make yourself at home here! It's small, but warm." And it truly is, the fire quickly heating their modest little cabin, an establishment originally owned by a hermit, and clearly meant for one man. But they've maintained an efficient use of the space — a cosy living area and kitchen, a place along one wall where Vasya can see patients, a bedroom tucked in the back.

Konstantin ushers them towards the living room to sit comfortably on the sofa instead of more formally in the kitchen.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done already, but hopefully my tea is up to standards. Though I'm sorry I can't offer any lemon to go with it. I should have asked that boar for a few." He smiles again in that playful, boyish way, a counter to the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the patches of grey at his temples and throughout his hair.