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apocalypsehowcomm2022-05-16 08:09 am
- !event,
- !finale,
- !npc,
- bucky barnes (mcu),
- cornelius hickey (the terror),
- cortana (halo),
- edalyn clawthorne (owl house),
- hunter (owl house),
- kate cordello (original),
- katrina (siren),
- manji (blade of the immortal),
- zz_addison montgomery (grey's anatomy),
- zz_ade bennett (the wess'har wars),
- zz_ainsley whitly (prodigal son),
- zz_andrew jaeger (original),
- zz_beauregard lionett (critical role),
- zz_bruno madrigal (encanto),
- zz_callisto (xena: warrior princess),
- zz_donna noble (doctor who),
- zz_garner cinderbrooke (original),
- zz_george milton (of mice and men),
- zz_jeff calhoun (original),
- zz_john carter (er),
- zz_jonathan sims (tma),
- zz_luka kovač (er),
- zz_malcolm bright (prodigal son),
- zz_misty quigley (yellowjackets),
- zz_neal caffrey (white collar),
- zz_nick valentine (fallout),
- zz_orpheus (hadestown),
- zz_rye kalibash (original),
- zz_tim drake (dc comics)
Event - 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?"
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Neal doesn't look toward the bartender at Malcolm's latter question--he doesn't need to, really. He can practically feel the way the guy is watching them.
"Jury is out on that," he says, honestly enough.
But, he notices, no one has come to ask them what they want to eat. And the person approaching their table now is not a waiter.
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"Um... hi. Can... we help you?"
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Neal looks at the interloper, then at Malcolm. “We’re here for breakfast.”
The man is big. Big, pockmarked, with the ground-in grit of a miner and the spider veins of a drunk. There’s an aggressive energy around him that puts Neal on edge.
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His voice is confident - almost jovial - but under the table, his ankle is pressed tightly against Neal’s.
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Which is what prompts him to say what he does next. “If you were asking from self-interest, I’m afraid we’re both spoken for.”
The man stares at them for a moment, processing all of that, then it seems to dawn on him what Neal means.
His face reddens. “The hell did you say?”
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You’re really going to make him punch a lumberjack in the throat today, huh?
He looks up at the man. “Is that a ‘no’ on the fish?”
cw homophobia etc
Neal tenses. "Don't say it."
He's not sure what's prompting his reaction. Maybe it's the idea that this man feels free to approach Malcolm like this, approach anyone like this. Normally it would elicit scorn and sarcastic barbs, not direct confrontation. But Neal gets to his feet, standing almost-but-not-quite eye to eye with the stranger.
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The man jerks his arm away.
"Get your fruity hand off me!" he shouts.
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It’s a good punch. A hard one. But Neal isn’t and has never been a fighter, and his muscle comes from the gym and cardio, not mining or punching people. The man takes it without quite staggering and returns his own swing at Neal.
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Malcolm grabs Neal’s hand and yanks him towards the door. “Come on!”
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"What the hell was that?" he asks, looking up at Neal sidelong.
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“What was what?”
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"I don't... know," he admits.
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He exhales softly and drags a hand through his hair. “I won’t. I just…”
He pauses. What is it? “He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to be like that and skate through without being…”
What. Aggravated?
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For that part, at least. For making things harder on Malcolm. It probably wouldn’t help to make a joke about how hot it was. Not right now.
Neal tilts his face upward, the anger and helplessness of everything around them dragging at his bones.
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“Neal…It’s not… it’s not the end of the world,” he says, reaching out to run his hands up and down Neal’s arms. “I’m not… I’m not mad at you. I just don’t understand.”
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He manages a crooked smile. "...I still owe you breakfast."
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"Let's get it at the hotel," he suggests. "We could eat it in my room if my roommate has gone out," he adds with a faint lift of his eyebrow.
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