legionmissions | TO HAVE AND TO HOLD [modplot]

Entry tags:

TO HAVE AND TO HOLD [modplot]

Who| Anyone who wants in
What| "To Have and to Hold" plot
Where| The planet Olum, Matihara Temple
When| Set vaguely the same time as "Gods Among Us" and "Other Mother"
Warnings/Notes| N/A

The planet Olum is a genuinely welcoming place. While the clothes they have to wear for the rituals are a bit...odd (provided they don't opt for coverups), they are comfortable, especially with such a balmy climate. Despite the Olumites allowing outsiders into their ceremonies, there's a distinct lack of tourist-ey elements; no gift shops, no merchants selling anything, just a spirit of genuine unity and celebration. The Olumite marriage guides seem to genuinely care about helping people with their relationships, and seem happy to share their cultural traditions with other species.

As far as missions go, it's definitely a nice vacation from the usual life or death struggles.

It means the Legionnaires have no distractions. They have to settle in and try to navigate this while faking sincerity as best as they can.

[ooc: All information about the setting can be found on the infopost.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Background ain't got anythin' ta do with it, mate. All that matters is the present."

He gives her a shrug, since she's looking at him.

"After all, ya saw me history, and yer still here. Pretty sure that's not just the commitment'ta the job talkin'."

She nods; he's got a point, and perhaps she could take a page out of his book and focus on the Now instead of her habit of dwelling on the past. She falls thoughtfully quite for a bit as they trek through the forest.

"No, I guess it's not. You're good company." At this point it's something of an understatement.

Junkrat scoffs.

"If only I had a quid every time someone told me that!"

A moment passes while he drills a finger against his temple, acting like he's actually doing the arithmetic. Like there was arithmetic to actually be done. Roadhog enjoyed his company--as much as he tries to make it sound like he doesn't--and probably will never come around to verbally acknowledging it.

"...I'd have exactly one quid right now. Holy dooley, I'll never make a livin' at this rate! Better stick me day job, then."

He cracks a smile at her.

Edited 2017-05-09 07:37 (UTC)

"Don't spend it all in one place."

It's good, easy conversation, and helps pass the time as they delve deeper into the wilderness and scan around for the relic.

Once it's found, however, getting back to the main paths proves a little more difficult than expected, and somewhere along the way they become hopelessly lost. Tempers grew short, arguments ensued, and then - as if that wasn't trouble enough - with a single deafening crrrrrack the sky opens up and dumps a deluge of rain that's falling so forcefully it stings. They're able to scramble up and into a rocky overhang that's hiding a small cave. It wasn't a long trek but they're both soaked by the time they get under cover. As if that weren't enough, the temperature drops by a few degrees. Fareeha rubs at her arms as they assess their shelter, and then starts nudging branches and rocks aside to clear a space.

"Should probably make a fire and lay low until this blows over."

He's not used to someone arguing with him. There are more than enough occasions where Roadhog has told him no, to stop that, but it was in the interest of keeping him alive and safe, not because he disagreed with the plan or had wanted to pitch another idea.

Junkrat is trying to keep a lid on his frustration, choosing instead to grit his teeth and curl his fingers and try really, really hard to not think about blowing something up.

Rain.

It had to be rain.

He didn't plan for this, on account of never really having to worry about rain - more of the complete lack of it. Even as they get to the little space of dry safety, he chooses to stay in the rain and hold his face up into the biting rain, finding some kind of catharsis in letting it soak him to the bone, surrendering his aggravation into the water as it rolls down his body.

"Take care of the shelter." He hopes she doesn't argue with him on this too. "I'll deal with the fire."

He'd better get used to it; part of the charm of bull-headed people was their inability to back down from their own ideas.

Fareeha watches Junkrat stand out in the rain, reminding herself that he came from a country where this was probably a very rare occurrence. Still, it's not at all healthy and the last thing anyone needs is to get sick.

"Come in out of the rain. I'll take care of the fire." She squats down and shifts through the debris, pushing aside what's useless and piling the sizeable sticks and kindling into separate piles.

His whole body twitches, and not because it's cold.

"Heheh..."

It starts as a sardonic little chuckle as a smile cracks across his face. The chuckle stops, and then kicks back into a chortle.

"Hahahaha--!!"

It gains more and more momentum until he's clutching at his stomach in stitch-busting laughter that could probably be heard for miles. It takes him a long moment to get over whatever nonexistant joke is hanging in the air before, calming down to a breathy little giggle as he reaches into his satchel and pulls out his utility knife. It snaps open with a fierceness that rivals the lightning.

"I..."

He turns to Fareeha, and even though his disguise is still in place, the unhinged smile is cracking through the seams like they were a cheap plastic mask struggling to stay in place. It's a mild threat for Junkrat, because he doesn't really want to hurt her, but apparently he can't get the message across any other way.

"...Insist."

She blinks up at him from her spot on the ground. She's tired, cold, and wet, and watching him make a fool of himself isn't exactly making her any more inclined to listen to his request.

"No, I've got this." Undeterred, she goes back to clearing a space for a firepit and then pushing some of the larger rocks down in a circle. "I learned fire building in basic." She glances back up at him. "If you don't want to work on clearing out the shelter that's fine; I can do that as well, but at the very least you need to get out of the rain before you make yourself sick."

Sick? She's been in his head. She knows he's always sick, both in his mind and in his body. Learned it in basic. A great argument to use against someone that is so adept at making fire, his hair is constantly burning off.

Well, it wouldn't be right now soaked through, but that's besides the point.

His grin sharpens. The sky gets darker. The rain becomes a venerable downpour, the kind that brings floods in its wake.

WIth the next blinding lightning strike, he disappears into thin air.

That lightning was loud and close, and then he's just gone? She blinks in the darkness, then stands up and ventures to the edge of the overhang. Little rivulets have started to form just at the edges, speeding down from further up the mountain. This could prove problematic if it keeps up, and they need to make their way further in.

Instead of, you know, disappearing entirely.

Fareeha hugs herself in the chill and stares out into the downpour, "Jamison? Jamison!" annoyance verging on concern now, she should have made a greater attempt to drag him in out of the rain, "Shit," She steps out into the rain and cups her hands around her mouth, "JAMISON! Come on, get back here! We need to stick together!"

She's shivering, soaked straight through, and tucks her arms around her again and starts to pace. She didn't want to leave the shelter and possibly lose it in the darkness - getting lost herself wasn't going to help him at all - but she didn't like the thought of just sitting around while he was essentially missing.

There's no sign of him coming back after she calls out to him. In fact, he's gone for several minutes, maybe even close to two hours -- but an hour in, the rain lets up, ever so slightly. It's less of a torrential downpour and more of a consistent pattering. Having an arduous task of wandering and searching for adequate wood in a rainstorm is enough to cool Junkrat down and get his mind cleared. Well, as clear as it can be.

He comes back, eventually, carrying a bundle of dead, wet wood that seems absolutely overkill to get them through the night - but by the time they're stripped down to their dry cores, it might be just enough. He says nothing as he ducks into their shelter, plopping the wet wood down on the ground and finding a decent clearing next to them so he can start the task of whittling the first few chunks down so they can at least get it started.

Junkrat is uncharacteristically quiet while working, and doesn't attempt to look at Fareeha at all -- as if she's not even there.

Two hours.

In that time she could have entirely cleared the area and gotten a fire started herself, but instead she alternates between angrily shoving debris aside and trying to construct a fire pit out of available rocks, and stepping out into the rain and making a circuit around and above their little hovel. The rain letting up is a little bit of are spite, and she tries to listen for anything that could possibly be him in the distance, without any luck.

When he finally does show up, she steps back and crosses her arms and just watches him. The anger's burned off into a dull irritation, but she's too tired to address it.

Instead she sighs and settles herself in front of her own fire pit and starts to arrange some of the larger pieces she's found in their shelter and stuff it with the tinder and kindling. It's a paltry amount compared to what Junkrat's hauled in, but enough to get something started.

After some time and patience and splinters, Junkrat ends up with a pretty impressive pile of thin dry wood strips by his side. He's a quick worker, at least, and when he deems his pile sufficient, he moves over to Fareeha's prepped fire pit and invites himself to what she's already got collected, adding his own contribution in a breathable array, including a piece of forest litter that has a significant amount of tree sap he'd collected on his outing.

Junkrat pulls out his lighter and crouches over their unlit fire, his metal hand and his head itself creating a small cave over the kindling so he can control the air better. His other hand flicks the lighter on, and the sap quickly takes flame, but the humidity in the air makes the rest of it struggle. But Junkrat is patient, gently feeding it air and words of encouragement. Literally.

"Come on, come on...I know ya don't wanna wake up...but we need ya, mate."

It's a surprising amount of patience and tenderness out of someone like Junkrat, but it's hard to argue with what's happening right now. It's a tense couple of seconds, but when the fire finally does take off, it does so with confidence. Junkrat lets out a sigh of relief and backs off to give it room, staying in his crouched downward-dog position as he rests his head on the ground.

He managed to set something on fire, and that's the best catharsis he's going to get out here.

She merely settles back when he adds himself to her fire build; she may have had other ideas on what she was going to do, but she's too tired at this point to argue. And, well, there's something to be said for teamwork.

She watches him as he nurses it to life, finding his tenderness towards it a little surprising - especially given their tempers earlier - and endearing, like someone's coaxing a kitten to eat. She's not quite smiling when he's successful, but her expression isn't as harsh, perhaps even a mite tranquil.

Once the fire is well on its way, she reaches a hand out to his shoulder and leans down slightly to be more on his (strange) level.

"Hey, thanks." It also serves as an apology for fighting earlier. The rain has slackened but it's late enough and dark enough that they're in for the rest of the night.

He doesn't realize how cold his skin has turned until she touches him. There's a twitch, because the sudden realization feels almost like pain.

"I wanted ta do it."

In retrospect, he probably should have said just that. He rolls over to his side, in a loosely packed fetal position centered around the fire. He's got to bring his body temperature back up, but there's more wood to whittle.

He holds out his arm to give her the knife.

"Here. I need ta give my wrist a break."

She pulls back the moment he twitches, thinking he was still mad at her. He's cold enough for her to worry, though, and after taking the knife she sets it aside; he's done enough work that the fire will burn for a bit; the more pressing matter was helping warm him up.

"We've got enough for now."

Granted, she's not exactly the warmest thing in this cave either, but she's certainly got a little bit more meat to her than he does.

"Don't be alarmed - but we need to get you warmed up." She's hoping this doesn't freak him out too much; but whether or not he likes being touched right now, she's settling herself down behind him big spoon style, tucking up against him and wrapping her arms around him. She doesn't feel she has the luxury of time or circumstance to take his sensitivies into consideration, but she's trying not to be too tight in her grip.

Edited 2017-05-13 07:04 (UTC)

He gives her another involuntary twitch when she sidles up to him. It's not that he dislikes the touch, it's just a bit overstimulating after getting numbed through to the bone after trekking around under the downpour to collect firewood.

If it's not clear enough, maybe it will be when he reaches an organic arm to rest along hers, trying to soak up as much of her body heat as possible, his fingers wrapped around her elbow.

"Sorry," he manages out, lowly and tiredly, none the less genuine. "Didn't mean ta scare ya."

As Jamison becomes more accustomed to having Fareeha in this position, she'll relax and try to further nestle against him. His arm over hers is encouragement that it's okay, and she wants to cover as much body surface as she can. She harbors a quiet thought that their ritualistic 'clothes' are probably meant to encourage certain relations.

"It's okay." Her voice is husky and tired itself, but there's a warmth to it. "I just wasn't sure what had happened; one moment you were there, and then ... you were just gone."

Jamie huffs out a laugh that would have had much more gusto to it if he wasn't dogged tired. He closes his eyes, contentedly watching the light from the fire through his eyelids.

"Don't last long in the Outback without bein' quick on yer feet. Had ta do it...fer the both of us, really..."

He sighs.

"Didn't care fer it. How it felt." Their fight. Banter--he could banter and poke and prod and joke all day and not feel a thing, but this? "Nasty."

"No, you're right, and I am sorry for my part in it." She gives his an encouraging squeeze in addition to the apology. "Sometimes, I tend to get a little ... too focused, on the task at hand."

Ha, understatement. This is what you get for hanging about with a perfectionist.

Fareeha shifts a little, partly to assess how he's doing, and to get a little more comfortable now that the initial danger has passed. Fatigue is starting to settle down o her like a heavy blanket, and in the soft glow of the fire and the way their situated, it's starting to be a struggle to stay awake.

"How are you feeling?"

"Makes two of us."

Well, it's different. There's a very significant line drawn between being focused and fixated, and Junkrat freely swaps between "fixated" and "distractible" on a regular basis.

"Better," he answers honestly, even though he's fully aware that admitting it means that they're one step closer to not being in this position anymore. Forget the chill, forget the shared body heat...the human contact alone is nice. Comforting.

"Maybe we should flip a coin to see who should start watch, instead'a tryin' ta figure it out ourselves," he suggests, a wry smirk on a face that she can't see right now.

She chuckles, a low vibration against his back. "I'll take the first watch. You focus on getting warmed up. Besides, I believe there's still wood I need to strip."

She doesn't immediately move, though. The contact is nice, even if she's got the smell of burnt hair stuck in her nose. It's been a while that she's allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone like this, and while it had been in the name of necessity, her time with Junkrat had been feeding her with some certain feelings that she's still trying to figure out. Not wanting this moment to end was one of the more confusing ones.

Eventually, though, she starts to stir and pull away. The fire is a healthy size now and the shelter itself has warmed up immensely. It's important that she stockpile fuel to keep it going.

Her laugh...

If there was a third-best, under making things explode, followed by causing chaos, it was making people laugh, even if it meant they were laughing at him. It's such a short, low little thing, but he can feel it against his back, and it makes him swallow wetly. She's not even laughing at him, either.

"Yeah."

After all, he did kind of ask her to take care of the fuel-making. Given their resources, being on watch not only means keeping watch and keeping the fire stocked, but also actively making the dry wood to continuously feed it. Only problem is that she has to leave in order to do so. Oh well, it's not like this is the last time they'll be like this, right?

...Right?

When Fareeha leaves his side, Jamie takes a hold of his stand-in magitek prosthetic by the wrist. With a quick movement, he twists it into a position that would surely break someone's radius bone, but he's actually just undocking it from his stump to pull it off. The disguise doesn't bother to hide the half-dozen metal contacts buried in his skin, but once he tucks the prosthetic under his head to use it like a pillow, he covers up the stump and its contacts with his free hand, mostly to keep it warm and protected.

"Two or four hours?" he asks. Jamie is a pretty light sleeper, so he can go either way.

Fareeha chews on that question for a few moments, as she moves over to the fire and positions herself so she can watch the entrance and keep an eye on him while she works. There's just the two of them, and while there were hazards (like dropping temperatures and finicky rain) it hadn't seemed like they ran much risk of anyone trying to ambush their camp. They could afford a little longer reprieve if they wanted.

"Six hours. You need the rest." He's the one that was out in the rain; she's not giving herself any points for worrying. She figures six hour shift for her and a four hour shift for him and they should be good to go.

She starts to strip the wood as he'd been warmly, perhaps a mite slower for a something of am endurance run. Part of her already missed the contact.

Edited 2017-05-15 06:13 (UTC)

It does feel a little emptier without her up against him, but no less lonely. He's used to an arrangement like this; it's comfortable and familiar. It's formulaic enough for him to get a pretty decent sleep--or what passes for decent sleep with him--even laying against the cold, unrelenting ground.

"Six--"

He chuckles, rolling his head over to actually look at her, even if it's through the corner of his eye.

"That's more than a full night's sleep fer me, mate. Ya sure?"

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