VALOR'S DAY [Modplot]

[letsgolegion]

Who| Open to everyone!
What| Valor's Day Celebrations
Where| On Legion World or on Earth below
When| After heistplot.
Warnings/Notes| N/A


VALOR'S DAYUniversally celebrated through the United Planets, this yearly holiday celebrates the hero Valor, a Daxamite responsible for helping many UP species like the Braalians and Winathians to colonize their worlds over a thousand years ago. Valor's Day has over time evolved into a general holiday that promotes togetherness, charity, and good will through the galaxy.

Valor's Day celebrations through the UP are know for their displays of multi-colored lights, decorated trees, garlands of various plants and flowers, and "goodwill" carols. Valor's Day is also associated with Valor pageants and "origin" plays, and the playing of the blootsplort horn and tringlebells. Traditionally, gifts are given between different individuals, with each species having their own specific gift-giving traditions.

Legion World is no exception when it comes to the festivities. Garlands of rainbow flowers and wreathes of fragrant grasses decorate the halls and common areas. In some places where it won't interfere in Legion operations, goodwill carols play. The music is played on alien instruments and is probably very different compared to what some of the Legionnaires might be used to hearing around winter holidays, but it has the same mix of cheer and brightness as Christmas carols.

Comments

[agnominal]

Locus is quiet for a moment. He's not sure where he could go about getting something like that, but he could look into it. It would feel better, on the whole, knowing that he'd repaid him.

Even if that wasn't the point of gifts. Feel free to explain it to him some other time.

"It's a big station. There must be something that would be suitable."

[goddamngrenades]

"They don't even have real beer here, I doubt they'll look kindly on anything smoking related." He shrugs. "Though I could find some contraband on earth if I look, I guess. I dunno if I wanna get back into smoking."

He could but, he doesn't really want too. Maybe if there's something like the synthohol for cigarettes?

[agnominal]

"I suppose it would depend on the device used, and what you could acquire for it." Locus cocks his head slightly. "It seems a bit odd that they wouldn't supply their forces with some means of...recreation."

That sort of thing was all too commonplace, back in the days of serving in the UNSC. If you could get your hands on it, they hardly cared what you put in your system, as long as you could keep fighting.

[goddamngrenades]

"Eh, as long as I can have beer and candy, I'll live." Using sweets to deal with his oral fixation worked pretty well. Kept him from smoking even after he went AWOL. Well, for the most part. "There are holosims and recreational rooms and stuff, and there's always movie night."

He gestures to the screen, settling back to sip his cider.

[agnominal]

"This is common, then."

Maybe he'd have occasion to come back. Maybe not. But York's not wrong. If you want to be social without having to talk to people, a movie isn't a bad way to go about it.

[goddamngrenades]

"Yeah, my friend from back home started it up before I ever arrived. Apparently it started as a way to teach The Master Chief more about old earth pop culture and became a thing. It's good for bonding and shit." Eloquent as ever, honestly. "Sharing culture, stories, mundane things in between the superhero stuff."

[agnominal]

Even the mere mention of him gets a faint look of awe from Locus before he nods. "I'd heard he was here. This was meant to be educational for him, then?"

Bonding, the rest of that, it's not necessary and not of interest to him. Not something he's familiar with, so he lets it slide right on by without commentary.

[goddamngrenades]

"Well, they're friends. So." He shrugs. "That's a thing."

It's always a little weird being friends with someone that's close with The Chief. Then again he should probably stop thinking of the guy in all caps. He's something of a deadpan goober himself.

[agnominal]

"He is fortunate, then. I don't imagine Master Chief counts many as his friends."

The man was a professional of the highest caliber. A true soldier, if ever there was one. Surely...

Alright, maybe now isn't the exact moment to start imagining any similarities they might hold. That's gotten him in trouble before. Temper that enthusiasm, sit back in your seat. Drink your hot chocolate.

[goddamngrenades]

"He seems to not have gotten out all that much." Which- isn't all that surprising. Be a soldier, that's you're life. Be a super badass soldier? That's ALL of your life forever and ever amen. "Pretty easy to talk to if you ever want an introduction. I mean. He'll be here."

[agnominal]

At which point Locus's gaze darts away to some other random point in the room, clearing his throat ever so slightly. No, that's fine. He'll be here and Locus will conduct himself accordingly, and it'll be fine.

"Define 'getting out'." Because he hasn't done much of it himself, outside of sparring with York and wandering around the station trying to see everything there is to see. It's not really a 'getting to know you' period so much as it is taking in the landscape and hoping not to be bothered.

Although, looking at York, it hasn't been so terrible.

[goddamngrenades]

"Military Deployment typically isn't 'getting out'. Just say'n." That's offworld and offbase but not- social. Out and about. "Knocking around, getting in trouble, seeing the sights, etc. That stuff. Which, I mean- you hear things about Spartans. There's Soldiers then there's THEM."

They only show up when the shit has well and truly hit the fan. "I figure they either train a lot or something. I dunno. He's good people, though, so that's worth plenty."

[agnominal]

That bears some thought. In York's estimation, at least, it's possible to be everything a soldier could hope to be and still be 'good people'. Of course, York seems to be very optimistic on a number of counts. How much of that is a defense and how much is genuine, he's still not sure of.

"Training can be social," he points out, after a moment.

[goddamngrenades]

"Yeah, it can be. But social interaction outside the potential, thought, or threat of violence is kind of a thing." Even while training to improve, violence is inherent in everything. It's what they are as soldiers, inherently violent. Here on the sofa, though, watching movies? No threat of bruising.

[agnominal]

"A distraction."

He remains unconvinced of the importance. Surely nothing trumps being able to properly combat their enemies in the field. And it seems fitting that Master Chief would see things along the same lines.

Even if he did, as Locus had, occasionally given in when the situation merited.

[goddamngrenades]

"Soldiers are allowed to be people too, man. What's the point in going out to fight and die if you can't remember what you're dying for?" There's an uncharacteristically bitter twist to his mouth he hides behind his next sip, eye going dark. What the hell did they fight and die for in the Project?

One man's ego. A failed experiment.

Doesn't matter.

"Establishing social bonds isn't a distraction. Being grounded, having some perspective, that's not a distraction. It's important."

[agnominal]

"We fight so that others do not have to. That they remain as they are, while we endure the horrors of war. This world is for them."

Not people like him. Not anymore. He'd tried, once. Tried to go back to being a civilian, to living among the people he'd once called neighbors and friends. It was a hollow effort at best. Everything had changed, as though a veil had been drawn down between him and everything that had once been familiar to him.

He studies York for a moment. "You truly believe it's that important, seeing what you have as a soldier?"

[goddamngrenades]

"There's a difference between being a soldier and a gun." Follow orders, fight the good fight, come home after vs follow orders, point, and shoot. There's more to all of them than what they did, what they endured. Letting it swallow them and losing touch is how the Project got so out of hand-

But that's shit he doesn't want to talk about with Locus. It was heavily classified for so many reasons and he doesn't want to be AWOL Special Agent York.

He wants to be Locksmith.

To be Taylor.

"We get to have that world too. It's not the same, it'll never be the same- but damn if i'm not going to try and enjoy what I can while I can."

[agnominal]

Locus falls quiet at that. He was trying to be more than a weapon, a tool for someone else to use, but so often it felt easier that way. Allowing the Legion to point him in the direction violence needed to be done in.

Trying to reintegrate a second time? That was much more difficult. But he was willing to try. He was here, after all.

[goddamngrenades]

"So." He gestures to the table of snacks, the sofas, the screen. "Movie night. You miss a lot of shit when you're on the front."

or on the run.

"Again: A low stress way to do the thing and see if you even want to do the thing." Not that he's implying this is inherently stressful but- He got emphatic there for a second, something he's trying not to do. Trying not to Project. They've both seen some shit, that much is obvious.

[agnominal]

Low stress. Perhaps he's got a point. There's relatively little in the way of obligation here, just the opportunity to try. To see how much merit there really is in the idea.

That York doesn't insist he should, only presenting the means to do so, speaks volumes. Some of the tension eases out of his shoulders as he gives a faint nod.

"Right."

[goddamngrenades]

It's easy to settle in for explosions, swearing, and vent crawling. As per usual York find himself quietly enraptured with the film, sipping his cider, keeping to his side of the sofa till the latter half of the second act. It takes little time for exhaustion to catch up with him and he starts to list sideways against Locus, eyes shut, breath deep and even. Dozing as he slumps in absolute trust and a fair amount of comfort on Locus' shoulder.

[agnominal]

Thankfully, he doesn't start. Not noticably, at least. But his gaze does tear away from the screen rather abruptly to stare down at the weight now pressed in against his shoulder.

All he can really see from this angle is the top of York's head, but he can feel the slow inhale and exhale of a man who's well and truly conked out. First instinct is to push him away, the feeling bordering too close to wartime memories he'd rather not revisit, in the cold and bleak ruins when exhaustion had robbed many of their sense of personal boundaries, in exchange for survival.

Nothing so dire here. Just a very sleepy Locksmith. And a visibly confused Locus, who isn't quite sure what to do. Wake him? Nudge him in Washington's direction? Pretend he hasn't noticed?

???

[goddamngrenades]

Out cold and all the more quiet for it York remains where s he is saved for the odd, unconscious shift to nose against Locus' shoulder. Seeking warmth or a slightly more comfortable nook, who knows? More still in sleep than he ever is while awake the years and wear of war are more apparent. Lines at his eyes, the ragged cut of his scars, a speckling of grey at his hairline. But like all soldiers he sleeps silently, all but braced to pop up in an instant if needed.

[agnominal]

It prompts a moment of staring, because of course it does. York isn't exactly awake to give him grief about it, and he's curious.

Without the constant tug of emotion or expression, the animated way York's face tends to comport itself, yes. The signs of the toll war took on him are clear. He should be on his guard. The only reason to let that guard down to this degree was trust.

That's an uncomfortable realization, and Locus looks back to the screen once more, though no longer truly paying attention to the action taking place there.