Agent Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unrecovered) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2018-01-06 06:55 pm
unrecovered) wrote in legionworld2018-01-06 06:55 pm
Entry tags:
Calm Before the Storm
Who| Wash and whoever wants to talk to him
What| Getting used to a massive change before the last push starts
Where| Around the outpost
When| Not long after the loss of Legion World
1. Quarters, shortly after arrival
It's amazing what you can fit in a duffel bag, especially when you're in a hurry. This is one of the few instances where Wash is grateful for his paranoia; at some point a few months back, he'd packed a go bag for supplies for DC, just in case, and all he'd had to do was top it off with as much cat food as would fit in it and shove it in his duffel bag. For his half of the bag, he'd managed a spare pair of clothes, his toothbrush, as much extra ammunition and armor repair/upkeep equipment as he could reasonably handle, and several packs of Chocos, because who knew when he'd be seeing those again. The one thing that hadn't made it to the bag had been slipped into his armor's soft storage instead: a palm-sized holo image generator. It was the space future equivalent of saving a photo album from a fire, and it's the last thing he sets up, attaching it to a wall instead of taking up any of the room's limited flat surfaces.
He's just making sure the adhesive is sticking when the door opens behind him. It's almost an automatic response: "Don't let the cats out!"
2. Around the outpost, most of the rest of the day
If there's nothing else to do, Wash makes himself busy. It's easier than trying to contemplate such a staggering loss, especially so close to the event itself. To that end, he wanders the outpost, offering help where it's needed. Does Medbay need an extra pair of hands setting up? How about the labs? Is there a monitor duty shift that needs doing? Great, he's your man, just put him to work.
03. The hangar, evening
It's been a long day, and despite Wash's best efforts, things are starting to sink in. It's nothing he wants to deal with in public, or at least in close quarters, so he heads for the hangar. It's not very big, but it's bigger than other spaces, and everyone who's at work in here is too busy to notice him taking up a corner, putting his helmet on, and settling in to think (or so he thinks).
He's lost his home. Again.
Admittedly, he voted for the more strategically sound decision to blow it the fuck up and take as much of Apokolips with it as they possibly could, but that doesn't make it any less gone. Admittedly, he's used to moving from place to place, mostly involuntarily, but despite the fact that they're in the middle of a war, Legion World had still felt a little more permanent than most of the bases he'd been stationed at.
Then again, the Mother of Invention had felt pretty permanent too, way back when.
He sighs and thunks the back of his helmet against the wall. Yeah. This is going to take some getting used to.
What| Getting used to a massive change before the last push starts
Where| Around the outpost
When| Not long after the loss of Legion World
1. Quarters, shortly after arrival
It's amazing what you can fit in a duffel bag, especially when you're in a hurry. This is one of the few instances where Wash is grateful for his paranoia; at some point a few months back, he'd packed a go bag for supplies for DC, just in case, and all he'd had to do was top it off with as much cat food as would fit in it and shove it in his duffel bag. For his half of the bag, he'd managed a spare pair of clothes, his toothbrush, as much extra ammunition and armor repair/upkeep equipment as he could reasonably handle, and several packs of Chocos, because who knew when he'd be seeing those again. The one thing that hadn't made it to the bag had been slipped into his armor's soft storage instead: a palm-sized holo image generator. It was the space future equivalent of saving a photo album from a fire, and it's the last thing he sets up, attaching it to a wall instead of taking up any of the room's limited flat surfaces.
He's just making sure the adhesive is sticking when the door opens behind him. It's almost an automatic response: "Don't let the cats out!"
2. Around the outpost, most of the rest of the day
If there's nothing else to do, Wash makes himself busy. It's easier than trying to contemplate such a staggering loss, especially so close to the event itself. To that end, he wanders the outpost, offering help where it's needed. Does Medbay need an extra pair of hands setting up? How about the labs? Is there a monitor duty shift that needs doing? Great, he's your man, just put him to work.
03. The hangar, evening
It's been a long day, and despite Wash's best efforts, things are starting to sink in. It's nothing he wants to deal with in public, or at least in close quarters, so he heads for the hangar. It's not very big, but it's bigger than other spaces, and everyone who's at work in here is too busy to notice him taking up a corner, putting his helmet on, and settling in to think (or so he thinks).
He's lost his home. Again.
Admittedly, he voted for the more strategically sound decision to blow it the fuck up and take as much of Apokolips with it as they possibly could, but that doesn't make it any less gone. Admittedly, he's used to moving from place to place, mostly involuntarily, but despite the fact that they're in the middle of a war, Legion World had still felt a little more permanent than most of the bases he'd been stationed at.
Then again, the Mother of Invention had felt pretty permanent too, way back when.
He sighs and thunks the back of his helmet against the wall. Yeah. This is going to take some getting used to.
1
Fortunately and against the name of comedy, she does immediately notice the cats attempting to get out, and slams the door shut.
"Do you have enough cat carriers?" she asks, because this is a gravely important matter after all. "Do you need more cat carriers? Should I get you more cat carriers?"
no subject
"Yes, we have enough cat carriers - that's how we got them here." Wash is nothing if not patient right now - it's a rough adjustment, and regardless of how many supernatural occurrences she's survived, Mabel's still a kid. "How are you holding up?"
1, can't resist cute cats
"This is going to become a recurring issue, isn't it?" he murmurs wryly, before moving towards his cot and sinking down to sit on the edge. The situation isn't ideal, but he's seen far worse. They won't hear any complaints from him now.
Nobody can
Wash obliges and picks him up. "He didn't use to be a door darter - hopefully he'll settle down once he gets used to the change." Which may be a lot further into the future than Wash is really prepared to think about right now. "How are you holding up?"
no subject
And honestly, did he expect anything else as an answer?
'Home' was a concept he was slow to warm to. Eventually he learned to classify it as certain people, though Legion World itself had been something as close to secure and safe as could be found. Now it was gone, like so many other places.
But the decision to destroy it to strike a blow to their enemies had been a sound one. And the people who mattered most to him were safe. That wasn't nothing.
Luna, by this point, had poked her head out at DC's cries and meandered over herself with an inquisitive chirrup. Dutifully, Locus bent down to pick her up, and let her splay herself across his shoulder with an accompanying nuzzle. "This place is full of unfamiliar scents to them. I'm sure they're as anxious as anyone else."
no subject
Huh.
Wash shrugs and rolls DC over in his arms, tousling the fur on his belly. "Probably. I might take him for a walk in a little while if things quiet down." It's a pretty big if, given the circumstances, but the possibility is there nonetheless.
no subject
Locus's gaze lingers, as it tends to, watching Wash for a few rather intense seconds. It's clear he wants to say something, but the exact words are escaping him for the moment. Instead, he hums softly, the edges of his mouth twisting slightly.
"Whatever happens, nothing be will the same after. I...enjoyed it. While it lasted."
3
As the evening progresses, though, he notices that Wash has gone... somewhere. He's probably just working on something, but Wash is one of John's most important people. Even if he's busy, maybe the Chief can help. They've come and gone out of the small quarters they're sharing, but they haven't had any time to talk.
Or... not talk and just appreciate a familiar presence. This is John, after all. It's been a gradual process, but he can accept that he just likes to spend time around Wash. Liking to do something is an acceptable reason for it, even if it's not mission critical. It's comfortable.
After a day like to day, they could probably both use some comfortable.
He finds Wash sitting in the hangar, and moves to sit with him.
no subject
He sighs, and lets the not-silence settle for a few seconds before speaking. "Hey."
no subject
"This familiar to you as it is to me?" he asks after a moment.
It's not exactly like all the other times he's had to evacuate, much though he tries to tell himself it is. Legion World was a kind of home to him, too. It wasn't inviolable, there was always a sense in his heart that it couldn't last (because nothing in John's life has ever lasted), but he'd been able to admit that it was a nice place to be. There is, though small, a sense of loss that he's not proud of feeling.
no subject
He huffs at the question. Moment over, courtesy of Master Chief. "I don't know. Maybe? I'm used to losing people - the places are mostly ancillary. Most everyone made it out, so..." He gives a halfhearted shrug. Wash hasn't made a habit of allowing himself to miss anything he's lost - it would have buried him years ago, and even now he's not entirely sure he'd handle it well. The fact that Legion World was a place instead of a person somehow doesn't make much of a difference - that bit of logic can't patch over the hole in his heart that its loss has caused.
But he's sharing that loss with everyone, and who knows - maybe sharing will help.
"It still felt like home, though," he finally says.
no subject
"It was... nice."
It's a succinct eulogy for the first place he'd been safe to slow down. The place carrying an echo of the first home he lost. The place that gave him back a friend that was gone for good. The place that gave him new friends, and one in particular who is special.
He's not a sentimental man, John. Jobs end. People die. Equipment breaks. Space stations are blown to thousands of glittering shards to hang in the void. He's not sentimental, but... well.
He's been surrounded by bad influences.
"We'll get in some good swings for it."
The end is close, so very close. It's not just John banishing his feelings with something flippant. This is real, and soon to be possible.
He's already bracing for the last fight.