apocalypsehowcomm | Event - Appalachia: Into the Pines

Entry tags:

Event - Appalachia: Into the Pines

Appalachia: Into the Pines

Footage plays on the television as a new story comes on, showing a series of sweeping vistas, intercut with clips of wolves that have clearly been filmed at some local wildlife sanctuary. "As far as anyone knows it, the last wolf to ever freely roam the Allegheny Mountains was slain in West Virginia in 1897. Daniel Stoffer Hamrick saw to the beast's passing, and the woods in our part of the world have gone quieter ever since. Appalachia does not forget its history, though. It buries it beneath coal and flyash, debts and white powder and pills. And the blood of people taken before their time, by the mines, by the mountain, by things we don't have names for, just hurt. But Appalachia does not forget.

"This is Cindy Parsons with Channel 5, Wolf News." Footage cuts to a newscaster standing outside a gated apartment complex with FYRE's logo emblazoned on it. "As we know, our beloved Wolf Pen is home to one of the biggest FYRE worker housing complexes in Wyoming County. It is a monument to the history of our town, and this week, we'll be on the lookout for visitors from all over the country, coming to see the grand re-opening of the historic Bluestone Mine as a museum."

Footage cuts to a nondescript businessman, identified by the news footage as Carl Watts, CEO of FYRE. He's smiling blandly as he stands at a podium and gestures to the entrance of the mining tunnel behind him. "The Wolf Pen community has been a partner to us for decades now, and we knew it was finally time to give something back to all y’all. We'll have our soft opening on Monday with a full Rumble Down Under party in the old mines scheduled for June 15th. We'll have a live bluegrass concert and anticipate a huge influx of tourists to the area to help out our neighbors itching for a few more pocketbooks to tend to." A wink.

The footage returns to Cindy. "FYRE has stated that this new museum will provide an educational tool and tourist attraction for those wanting to learn about West Virginia, Wolf Pen, and the hard-working men and women who have made this beautiful part of our nation their home. Time will tell. Time is always telling when it comes to the promises of people who have used our land and our bodies to line their pocketbooks. They fill our blood and our lungs with black tar and-"

Cindy cuts out and is replaced by in-studio anchors. "Thank you, Cindy!" a blonde woman says, smile just a little strained. "I think we're all looking forward to seeing the big opening by FYRE on Sunday and that rocking good party next month. It should be a gneiss one! Now to Tim with the weather. Tim?"

➥ Links

OOC Questions - LINK
NPC/Mod Response Prompts - LINK
General Setting Prompts - LINK 1 & LINK 2

↬ Main Navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Awwright." He's smiling again, taking it a little quicker but not much as he shows him more combinations of the dance. It's a little different with a partner when you have to worry about where their feet are and everyone is moving together, but he figures if he gets the basics down, he won't have any trouble matching someone in the crowd.

Winter picks it all up very quickly, because, indeed, most of it is familiar. It's like his body already knows how to do it all.

After a few minutes, he gets impatient with copying, and grabs George's hand. "I have an idea." And unless George yanks back, he's going to pull the poor guy straight into some (admittedly fairly basic, for now) Lindy Hop. Hope you know that one, George.

It takes him off guard, but he goes along with it, letting out a bit of a startled laugh. In his time, it had only just started picking up a lot of traction on the West Coast, and of course he'd learned it to impress the ladies same as a lot of the guys.

It's something else seeing Winter in this mode. Like hell is he going to do anything to interfere or put a stop to it. Even if they are getting a little attention from folks who see swing dancing as something fancy and unusual, it's a lively crowd, and it only adds to the general atmosphere of casual celebration.

There's something hovering between intense concentration and a smile in Winter's expression. He knows this. He knows it, and it doesn't hurt, or confuse him, or upset him. And the touching isn't too bad, either-- there's nothing in it to remind him of violence.

He spins George around the space the crowd is giving them like George were a dame, not getting too fancy, though something in the back of his brain suggests much more complex moves he could be doing. Apparently the person he'd been was very good at dancing.

When the current song ends, he steps back and lets go, a little breathless. "Jesus. That was. Is that what fun feels like?"

George laughs, maybe not quite as good at the dame side of the dance but giving it as much of a go as he can. He's light on his feet, and quick, and really with all the laughing, clapping, and the few cheers and whistles called out to them, he's having a good time of it.

More than anything else, it's good to see that expression on Winter. He knows how much he struggles sometimes, and this? He'd spin all night if it kept it going for him.

He sweeps a little bow to him and then the crowd, grinning and nodding. "Yessir. You had yourself some gen-u-ine fun. And you're a helluva dancer."

Winter starts a little, blinking at the people who actually stopped to watch, and-- refuses to shrink from it. He'd had fun. They can stare if the fucking want to. It's not like he hasn't had to perform for people before.

Maybe not by dancing, but who cares. He can deal with it. He's not going to get weird.

He turns back to George. "What was that called? Dances have names, right?" George had known the steps. He should know what it's called.

"That was the Lindy Hop. And I think you's better at it than me, that's for sure." He claps his shoulder lightly, the flesh and bone one.

"You thirsty? I am after that."

The crowd is already going back to focusing on their own dancing and drinking. It's a good night, almost easy to forget they're here for a serious reason. Not that he ever would fully.

Neither will Winter, the mission is never entirely forgotten, no matter what. But this is a little distracting, and he's really shitty at this particular mission anyway. Gathering intel is not a thing the Winter Soldier was really ever used for, or even the Sergeant back in the war. He's completely out of his element.

But he is, also, thirsty. "Yes. Yes, okay. But then more dancing," he half-says, half-asks, as if for permission. Complete with hopeful puppy eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he says with a chuckle. "I'll jes' get us a couple a' beers, we can wet our whistles, and then we'll see what else you got in them feet."

He makes his way through the crowd to the bar to do just that and comes back a few minutes later, handing him one of the pints. Cheap beer. George doesn't even know any other kind.

It's terrible, and Winter makes a bit of a face after a sip, but it's liquid, so he drinks it anyway. "There's better drinks than this," he points out. "I've had them. I've had them here."

George laughs and takes another long swallow, a little sly tease in his obvious enjoyment. "Well, I tell you what. Next round you pick. I'll drink whatever you's havin'."

"I will," Winter says firmly. "And you'll like it better, I bet." And it won't be alcoholic. Sorry, bro, he's not actually fond of any booze he's tried yet. The fact that this is cheap and beer makes it even worse almost.

He does drink it, though, because he's thirsty and it's at least cold. "How did you learn dancing," he asks as they work on the beers.

"Prob'ly a bet you'll win," he says, amused. Cheap beer is for washing away a thirst and keeping himself just lubricated enough that he stays out of his own head and doesn't get in his own way of having a good time.

"Huh, I guess jes' going out on the weekends after work and tyin' one on with the fellas and the ladies. Some a' them ladies could cut a rug, now, and they was always keen to want to teach you so they could have them a dance partner. I liked it. Figured out I was quick on my feet and could keep it going a good while." One of the few sets of memories he can say without argument are good without any complications.

Winter is fascinated. He knows those words. That's slang he knows. He almost never knows proper slang for things. "Is that how people talk in California?" he asks, sounding more intrigued than dismissive. "Cut a rug. Fellas and ladies. Tying one on. I know those."

"Well, it's how we talked in the 30s. More often than not, I say that sort a' thing here, I get blank looks or called 'old man.'" It had happened down at the docks at least, although he knows some of those guys don't mean any harm by it.

"I reckon if you know the Lindy Hop, it makes sense you know them words, too. It all goes together." He takes another long pull of his beer.

"Dances. Words. Serial novels." Winter sighs at his terrible beer. "I must be very old," he admits finally.

"Maybe. Ain't such a bad thing being old. Not by itself at least." Not that he ever expects to make it that far. He didn't back home. The idea the world will end here doesn't have him feeling those odds are any better.

"It is if you're the only one left." He's not, though. He's got Steve. And George, kind of. And he's not superhuman anymore, so maybe he'll age normally now. Like a person.

Winter finishes off his beer in one big swig. He doesn't want to think about depressing things. He wants to dance some more. "Come on. Let's have more fun."

"Yeah, I reckon that part of it wouldn't be so great." He doesn't think anybody particularly wants to outlive their friends.

Polishing off his beer he leans to set it aside on a table filled with other empties and laughs. "You lead the way. I'm right behind you."

((OOC: Good wrap?))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Event - Appalachia: Into the Pines

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject