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

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.

She walks over and grasps his arm to help pull him up, the other hand holding the flaming stick out to the side because she doesn't want to inadvertently cause a forest fire by setting it down in the wrong place.

"Dare I even ask what you were up to?"

His grip on her hand is tight and firm, not shy at all with pulling as much as he needs to get himself upright. Which isn't a whole lot, because despite his height he's practically a twig.

"Was watchin' the sunrise," he answers honestly. "Was comin' back down from that."

"I hope it was worth the experience?" She doesn't sound like she thinks it was a wasted trip, though. Once he's back on his feet, she's heading into the cave to deposit her flaming stick and see about working up some breakfast.

"The climb? Yeah. Could've done without the fall though." The side of his mouth hitches into a smirk, accompanied by a throaty chuckle as he follows her back to their cave.

He has the same idea as she does, going to his own food sack to get something more substantial on his stomach. It's over where he was resting against the wall earlier, so his back exposes itself to Fareeha. There's a nasty abrasion on one side of his back, across his shoulder blade, from landing on the branch he slipped on. He either doesn't know it's there, or at the very least doesn't seem to mind it, because he's not trying to tend to it at all.

She sees that (it's kind of hard not to, with how little these clothes cover, and with how little Junkrat normally wears). She sets aside the breakfast she'd been gathering and digs around her own bag for some first aid. She pulls out a salve, and then heads over to him.

"Hold still for a moment. I've got something for that scrape."

"Scrape?"

He looks over at her curiously, then follows her eyes to--oh, well, he's not going to get a decent view of it anyway, if it's where she's looking.

"Ah. Nicked meself on the way down, did I?"

Consider him still enough to apply said salve.

"Something like that. It's a pretty decent beauty mark."

She squats down behind him and unscrews the top, scooping out a large dollop and setting the rest aside. Then, she sets her free hand on his good shoulder to help keep herself still. "It'll be cold, might sting a little."

Warning given, she gently smears the salve against the wound, using the fat of her fingertips to smooth it out until it overs the whole area, pausing once to scoop out a little more to ensure she's got all the way to the edges. "Maybe next time, take some rope?"

"Beauty mark?" Junkrat asks incredulously, looking over her shoulder. "Then it sure as hell doesn't belong on me," he jests, hoping his self-deprecatory humor will be appreciated.

He's still as she works on him, and all she gets out of him during the process is a throaty little groan of protest at the sting.

"Even if I remembered ta bring it, doesn't guarantee I'd remember ta use it."

At least he's honest.

"You haven't heard that before? 'A bruise is a warrior's beauty mark'?" Because not all beauty is about traditional physical attributes. As someone who's pretty stoic herself, she can appreciate his ability to get up and keep going without even noticing a big scrape like that.

"Well, at least you didn't break anything." She finishes and gives his good shoulder a pat, then takes the salve back to her bag as she screws the cap on. "If it starts itching later let me know, I'll put on another layer."

"Never," he admits. "Dunno if ya noticed, but I ain't the most well-read bloke."

He's more well-read than most Junkers, but on the global scale, he's not.

"Thanks mate," he says when she finishes, scooping out his desired foodstuffs and settling in place beside the fire. "By the way, foot of the mount is a lot closer than it seemed last night. Two k's give'r'take," he explains, punctuating his speech by stuffing his face.

"Well then; you've learned something new today." She joins him by the fire with her own breakfast, and nods at his assessment of the upcoming trek.

"We'll be there in no time at all."

"Wouldn't be able ta call it a day without doin' that!"

Ever the optimist. After breakfast and a short walk later, they'll meet a cliff that isn't exactly sheer, but definitely too steep to actually walk on. Good thing he got warmed up with climbing that tree.

Rock climbing isn't exactly something he has a whole lot of experience with, but he certainly has the upper body strength to handle the majority of the climb without much trouble. Like the incident with the tree, though, he's having a hard time getting the right traction with it -- and it starts getting to him.

"Coulda brought me own, damn it..."

Don't mind him as he has some colorful commentary for the rock face. At least he's gotten a pattern down so he can test the traction before actually putting his weight on it.

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