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

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?"

She tilts her head back at him, "Are you going to spend it sleeping or talking?"

She teases. "I'll be fine. We've got the luxury of taking our time if we need. I'll be alright with four hours sleep, but you were the one trekking all over the wilderness in the rain."

God, that so sounds like something Roadhog would say. Perhaps it's due to his comfort around her by now, perhaps it's because he's tired and the sentiment feels really close to home, but he scoffs and uses his full arm to hold up the back of two fingers at her over his shoulder.

"Wake me up by the hip if it ain't an emergency," he instructs, before falling back to his side to finally fall asleep.

In response to his obscene gesture, she raises her hand to her head and flaps her fingers at him, before turning back to the task at hand.

She works steadily through her shift; it's easy work, and she's able to pace herself so that she doesn't tire out too quickly, pausing here and there to take a break; stretch her hands and wrists, get up, walk around, stoke and prod the fire and add fuel to ensure it's keeping its strength up.

Eventually, she checks her omnicomm to find that roughly six hours has passed - on the generous side - and she goes over to Jamison and squats down, pausing a moment, and then laying a hand on his hip like he'd ask and giving him a gentle shake.

"Jamison? Are you ready for your shift?"

Aww, now that's why they get along so well. They speak each other's language!

He sleeps fairly well given the circumstances, and the truth is that he's actually been awake for a few minutes before Fareeha tries to rouse him. It'd be impossible to tell, unless she was paying very intent attention to his breathing, because he hasn't moved nor opened his eyes.

Morning nausea. The same he's struggled with for the last twenty years. She likely remembers it from being in his head. He was hoping that it would settle before she tried to wake him up, but no luck in that regard. He breathes in deeply, which was a mistake because it makes his stomach pole-vault, and brings his hand up to rub at his eyes. "Yeah...yeah."

Junkrat sits up, and it's another mistake, because he immediately flushes pale and coughs, which turns into a full-bodied dry heave. No blood. That's good. He brings his hand up to wipe the combination of dry and wet drool that ran down his face during his sleep, and he sighs, reaching out for his borrowed prosthetic and docking it back into place.

"She's all yers, mate," he says, scooting up so he can rest his back against the wall with his eyes closed. He doesn't seem at all in the state to be on watch, but honestly he's toughed out harder wake-up calls in worse conditions.

Fareeha settles back against her haunches, watching him with concern. While they'd been spending the last few days sharing a hotel room, she had a habit of leaving for an early morning run while he was still asleep, and while she had seen evidence of it in their shared visions, this is her first personal experience with it.

"Do you need a little extra time? I don't mind keeping watch a while longer." She's not worried about him missing something on watch - this world wasn't wrought with dangerous creatures, to her knowledge, and they weren't hiding from war threats. But the success of the mission did ride on their ability to survive in the wilderness and if he needed to sleep a little longer, as she'd said earlier; they had that luxury.

"Nah." He waves dismissively. "Only doin' fer it right now is ta wait it out."

It's not like more sleep would help at all. In fact, it's bad enough that it guarantees that he wouldn't get back to sleep anyway, even if he wanted to.

"Don't worry about me. Coupl'a minutes and a bit of food and I'll be back in action before ya wake up."

He gives her a weak but well-intentioned thumbs up.

"Alright, but don't hesitate to wake me if you need me."

With his encouragement, she settles down on her side facing the fire, loosely curled. The little cavern has warmed up nicely, and it's not long before she dozes off into a light sleep.

"Will do."

There is no reason to, really, because there's nothing she can do to fix or help what's wrong within his body, but if it makes her rest easier, he'll make it seem like there would be.

It takes about an hour until he's in the shape where he can take on food, so he does, and that takes care of most of the nausea before he's able to gently nudge the rest of it out of his body with some stretches that might remind Fareeha of yoga if she'd been conscious to witness it.

It takes up the better part of two hours, and Junkrat wishes he had something to work on for the rest of the time. Instead, he settles for walking around, not straying far from the cave, and eventually climbs a taller tree so that he can get to the top of it and watch the sun rise in the distance. It's quite pretty, and the warm colors manage to calm him down for a couple more minutes.

While he managed to get up the tree just fine, however, getting back down is another story. He manages okay for the majority of it, and while he does manage to get a solid branch to plant his peg leg into, it catches on the bark and peels it off from the tree, making him slip and sending him plummeting into the ground. Thankfully it's not more than a few feet, but the fall is accompanied by a heavy THUD and a hearty "FUCK!"

That wakes her up, and she's up and grabbing a flaming branch from the fire and out into the sunlight before she's really registered what's going on. She stands at the entrance - hair mussed and half-covered in dirt and leaves, holding onto a flaming stick and looking intent as a provoked bull.

Her eyes land on Junkrat and she finally relaxes, taking a breath and letting it out in a huff. She's clearly not angry, although mildly annoyed could certainly apply.

"Feeling better, I see?"

Ugh, he really didn't intend to wake her up. Junkrat lets out an irritated, groaning sigh at himself as he lays prone against the ground, knees bent at an awkward angle that'll be a fight just to get upright with. The tree is right where he needs to get them if he's to get up on his own.

He holds his arm up in silent request for him to help him back up.

"I was," he answers.

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