Over the hills and far away LOG [OPEN + Closed prompts]

[bindlestifflost]

Who: George Milton + various
When: July
Where: Various locations in Gloucester, on the train, in and around ADI
Summary: TDM Prompts + July catch-all
Warnings: scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals, thalassophobia; mild scopophobia, bodily harm, stalking, bullying, altered perception, alcohol abuse, discussion of mercy killing/murder, mob "justice," gun violence

Train Home

George can be found in various parts of the train throughout the ride home, the dining car, the passenger area, the scenic window look-out, or the sleeping cubbies when it's dark and late. Pick a place if you want to talk to him about the events in Wolf's Pen or anything else. He's quiet and a little subdued but approachable and willing to talk.

Birdswatching

Maybe it's because he has spent so much of his time outside in his life, or maybe it's because he has always been extra wary of eyes on him, but it doesn't take George long at all to notice something is very off about the birds in the trees and in stealthier spots beneath bushes on the ground watching.

He pulls the brim of his LA Dodgers ballcap lower to conceal as much of his face as possible when he faces you and says, "This is a new one. What do you make of it? Think we ought to cut patrol short?"

If they're just watching, that's one thing. There's no guarantee they'll keep it to that. In his thin, short sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he doesn't feel nearly protected enough from sharp beaks or swarming talons. Not all of those birds are small or harmless, if they got it in their heads to get punchy.

Current Events

Riptide

((OOC: Please note, I'm doing 2 of these. 1 rescuing someone else, 1 being rescued. After that, George would be getting out of the water and not getting back in. First come first serve.))

1. Rescue

George has been enjoying himself in the water, a good swimmer even if being in the surf is new to him. He's swimming slow laps out beyond the breaker line when he notices you shoot past him, and whether you realize you're in trouble or not, he realizes it. "Hey!" he shouts, changing his trajectory almost immediately.

"Hang on! I'm coming for you!" He picks up speed to cut through the water to catch up.

"Relax if you can. If you fight me, we's both gonna drown."

2. Help!

Well, he'd only just managed to get someone else to safety. Whether the current shifted or he somehow managed to get further to his left than he intended, he feels himself very suddenly in a strong pull and sweep. Instinctively, he goes to his back, face out of the water and as little of him under as he can manage. It's still very fast, very far, and he's feeling both nervous and a little queasy when he looks back toward shore.

That's a long way to swim when a body is already tired out. He's looking for anything he can grab onto, and if not, trying to scull sideways to get out of the worst of it.

Poseidon Quivers

George is no artist. He'll be the first person to say it, but building sand castles isn't half bad. He's enjoying himself except for his legs going to sleep under him. He has just finished a rounded turret with a bucket when he's standing up and trying to walk it off. "Damnedest thing," he mutters.

He's wearing a LA Dodgers baseball cap, a plain pair of red swimming trunks that hit mid-thigh, and a cheap pair of sunglasses. His unfortunate permanent farmer's tan and very white legs are on full display, the latter covered with sand.

We Feast upon the Flesh

"You little bastard!" George is swatting his ballcap unsuccessfully at a seagull that just lunged in and stole his entire hotdog out of its bun. "Did you see that? Unbelievable!"

OR

George is sitting on a lounge chair hunched over a plate of food protectively and watching out for any sign of bird movement with paranoid eyes. He's eating in quick, decisive bites. If you draw close, he says, "Better watch your food. Those damned birds are out for blood today."

Spot the Difference

((OOC: Just one thread for the actual artifact, please, since it doesn't make sense to me he'd continually handle something that hurt him. I'll take repeat threads for the other injuries appearing later. First come first serve for the knife part.))

Wearing a pair of thick leather work gloves, George has picked a box and begun carefully looking at, taking pictures of, and cataloging the items inside. He's not keen to discover any weirdness. It's part of the job, and after the events in Wolf's Pen, he's both more resigned to this aspect of it and a little more confident in his ability to handle things.

He has a knife in gloved hand he's turning over to look for odd markings on the blade or handle. A strange sensation stabs through him. He glances down to see a spreading red stain on his white t-shirt on his right side over his ribs. "What the Hell?"

Setting the knife aside, he untucks the shirt and begins rolling it up carefully. There's a five inch gash across his ribs, not quite deep enough to need stitches. "You got a better angle on it. How bad is it?"

OR

It's lunch at the cafeteria. George is digging into a sandwich and some chips when a long wound opens across the back of his left hand. He drops the sandwich and grabs his hand, grimacing in sudden pain. "Aww, Hell, not again. Don't suppose you could grab me a handful a' some of them napkins, could you?"

He's bleeding onto the tray and table despite efforts to stop it with one hand clamped hard to the back of the other.

OR

It's another morning heading out for patrol around the perimeter of the dog park. George seems cheerful enough if a little subdued, his left hand bandaged and his ballcap set a bit low. He doesn't like the idea of the birds able to read his expression easily. He's setting a rapid clip until he suddenly stumbles and grimaces.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he grumbles. "Hold up. I need to check something." He hobbles to take a seat in the grass off the sidewalk and moves to pull off his left work boot.

Studying

George can be caught in various places around ADI with a study book from the DMV. He doesn't try to hide it if he's caught with it but will need to be approached or spoken to if someone wants him breaking away from his work to engage.

SOL/Handwave Prompts

((OOC: Feel free to pick anything from this list as a log prompt if you want something lighter or fill it out if we've threaded at least once before.))

Comments

Train Talk ~ Closed to Nick Valentine Murder/death talk, 1930s perspectives on mental health issues

[bindlestifflost]

It isn't until they're sequestered in one of the small, private sleeping quarters that George finally broaches the subject with Nick he'd mentioned at the bar the night before. He's stone sober and regretting it now, all kinds of jittery where he's seated and looking at their dim reflections in the dark window. His knee jumps its own rhythm, thumb and fingers rubbing a bit, too. He lets out a huff of a breath.

"Sorry. It's jes' this ain't an easy thing to talk about. It got dragged outta me with somebody else. I don't want to run that risk with you. You deserve to hear it straight out. It's about that guy I used to travel with you've heard me mention a few times now, Lennie."

He licks his lips, a nervous looking gesture. "We was more than friends. I...had to look after him. He wasn't right in the head. He was jes' a kid in a big, strong body. Strongest fella I ever seen. I told his Aunt Clara on her deathbed. I'd never let nothin' happen to her boy."

His voice drops lower, eye contact evasive. "Didn't work out that way."

[outofthepast]

Nick doesn't sleep, of course. He's made no secret of that, spending most of the time instead looking out the window. Sometimes, in just the right moment of blinking or just the right angle, his reflection gleams with yellow light where human eyes should be looking back.

When it's apparent that George is ready to talk, though, he turns from the window entirely and gives him his full attention. Calm, quiet, and offering a gentle smile. He can't imagine what George could be so worried to reveal to him, but for now, he's determined to be easy to talk at.

"What happened?"

[bindlestifflost]

He shakes his head. It takes him a few to work up to getting it out. "I killed him. Wound up in a... Wasn't no gettin' out of it. It was me or a mob a' angry sumbitches out to make him suffer, and the police wouldn't a' been any better, or some damn cuckoo house." He drags his hand down his mouth.

"Lennie...when he got scared, he'd grab tight onto whatever he had his hand on at the time. I don't know how it happened, but he killed a woman on this ranch we was workin' outside a' Soledad. Broke her neck. Me and this other fella found her first. He bought me enough time to steal another hand's gun. I come back and pretended it was the first I seen of it." He lifts one foot to the front of his seat, heel in close and knee at a sharp angle for him to wrap an arm around.

"The rest of them guys, they was jes' out for blood. Her husband said he was gonna gut shoot him. So I misdirected 'em, ran to where I told him to meet me if there was any trouble, and I... I done it. Shot him in the back a' the head. He never even knowed. He trusted me."

[outofthepast]

There's a moment of silence as Nick pieces it all together. It's a little tough to sort out the details when George is so emotional, but he gets the gist. A man with immense strength, but the mind of a child. An unknown, tragic accident. A mob out for blood and torment, closing in, no escape, and George with a gun.

Nick laces his fingers together and nods slowly.

Of course there's other factors, other context, but this isn't an interrogation. It's not about what anybody could or should have done. It's about what George did, or feels like he did.

"And you think that makes you a murderer."

[bindlestifflost]

"I think it could be seen that way maybe." His brow furrows. He's staring at a spot on the floor just beneath his seat. "I don't know."

He tugs at the denim of his jeans just beneath his knee. "We had...all kinds a' problems all the time. Over the past year or so, he'd gotten worse. Doin' things with women that scared 'em. You gotta understand, he didn't have a mean bone in his body. He always wanted soft things in his hands, you know? He kilt animals sometimes, pettin' 'em too hard.

"He got a mob after both of us before Soledad, grabbing and ripping a woman's dress. We hid all day in a drainage ditch up to our chins while they hunted us with horses and dogs. I.. Nick, I tried so hard to keep him in line. Always telling him not to do stuff like that."

He sighs. "He never remembered much. Jes' some shit I told him to keep him entertained on the road about this stake we'd get one day. I never thought he'd kill nobody. I don't know what I'd have done if I thought that. There was nowhere to put him that wouldn't be cruel. I thought if we could get that stake, I could keep him there. He'd probably have killed the damn rabbits petting them too hard, but at least... He'd have been safe. Everybody else would've, too."

Train Home

[abrightboy]

Malcolm slides into the seat next to George, one hand flexing absently on his thigh, the other fidgeting at the fabric of the arm of his seat.

“I checked the last two places I saw those… immolated corpses. There’s nothing there now. No trace.”

So maybe he was just crazy; that isn’t news.

“How are you doing after… everything?”

[bindlestifflost]

"That's good news, I think," he says, aware of the fidgeting and not completely sure he has a handle on the cause of it this time. Malcolm isn't the type to sit on anything too long if there is a bee in his bonnet. Better that no one was actually dead on the tracks than they'd been welcomed with a bunch of violent murders or corpse abuse.

"Ain't so bad now that the dust is settled." It had worked. Better than he ever expected, and after the post-conflict jitters eased, it left him feeling quietly confident. He's not the sort to rest on laurels or think one battle is the war, but he recognizes his perspective made a huge difference. "I'd have been a wreck if all them people got killed. They didn't. That's good enough for me."

A bit of quiet before, "How's you doing?"

[abrightboy]

"Yeah, it's good news. It is. It's always good news when the horribly mutilated corpse is an hallucination."

Not like it's the first time.

He glances over at the question. "I'm okay. Doing okay. Well. As much as usual." He pauses. "When we were picking up the fish... you said it wasn't just the smell that was bothering you. Do you... do you want to talk about that now? Or... you don't have to, obviously. You know that."

[bindlestifflost]

"Might not have jes' been you hallucinating. Anybody else mention seeing anything like that? Maybe you could ask on the network once we get back." Just because it wasn't there, doesn't mean it was just a hallucination, not with all the things they went through at Wolf Pen. He doesn't like the idea of him thinking he's plum crazy.

"I... I don't mind." He looks down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs against each other. "That guy I told you about I used to travel with. Lennie. Had a lotta problems. And uh, they was real bad and hard to deal with. Jes' wasn't nothing around for folks like that. Nothing good."

He glances at him. "If he'd a' been born around this time, thirty years ago instead of over a hundred, things would'a been so different for him. He could'a had schoolin'. Medicine to help him with his feelings. When they got outta control. So many things here is so much easier. People don't seem to realize." Like that infuriating talk he had with Addie. He lets out a soft huff.

"Guess when you got to talking about the medicine, it got me up in my own head a little. Sorry about that."

Poseidon Quivers!

[bossyboiler]

Kate approaches George. She has a spray bottle of sunblock in one hand because she's noticed the whiteness of his skin. She's read a little bit about this Earth's ozone layer and she doesn't like what she's read. He is going to get burnt if he doesn't use some kind of protection.

"Hi George, leg fall asleep?" That's what it had to be, right? The sand couldn't possibly be out to get them.

[bindlestifflost]

"Hey there, Kate." He offers an easy grin. "Yeah, think so. Maybe it's the uneven sand or something. Pinched a nerve." He's still stomping a bit, trying to work out the pins and needles.

"What you got there?" He doesn't know sunscreen from a hole in the ground. In all of the things people have told him about since he got here, that one fell through the cracks.

[bossyboiler]

"Just try not to fall, okay?" Kate sympathizes with George's predicament. Having one's leg fall asleep usually meant that you had to walk like a three-legged giraffe for a bit. It is unpleasant.

"Sunblock. You're going to burn without it and I'd rather you avoid that."

[bindlestifflost]

"Gonna do my best." It's weird, though, the way his leg isn't getting any better at all. He doesn't usually have issues with this sort of thing. And he's not...really bothered about it beyond finding it odd.

"I ain't never heard a' that, but I'll take your word for it." As much as he misses his brimmed hat, he's not sorry he left it behind for Noah.

Riptide - Rescue

[whisperedone]

He's never swam in the ocean before. Someone had mentioned something about it being unwise with the padded bandage over his side, the fading remains of the fight with Dunn, so he'd simply removed it and waded in. The water was warmer than a lot of lakes he'd been in and the shift of sand under his feet was curious.

Once he'd gotten far enough out that the water reached the healing gashes on his side, the sharp sting of salt made his mistake apparent and he grit his teeth against it. He was already out here, he would just take it easy.

He dives under and takes a slow pace out further. He wasn't a bad swimmer, there'd been a rather chilly lake in the valley that the younger members of his home used to learn, but a lake was not the ocean and the currents were jarring. He realized his mistake as he next dives under and realizes the sand is no longer beneath his feet...and he's not entirely certain he's still facing the direction he had been. Lakes had definite edges. The ocean did not.

He's set to turn back when the water feels like it grabs him and yanks and Garner's left with little other option than to simply take a lungful of air. It doesn't stop water from getting up his nose, leaving him hacking and disoriented by the time the pull lets go. It takes a dizzying moment for him to recognize George's voice and by the time there are hands even pushing the water near him, he flinches on instinct.

"George? Where are you?" He tries to relax, tries to just tread the water, but the burning ache in his side is the only thing sharp enough to keep the swell of panic from building too sharply.

[bindlestifflost]

He swims as fast as he can, really cutting through the swells as he gets closer. He's just shooting out into the open water so fast. He can't think about it. It's like when he had Lennie jump into the river. "I'm right here. On your right," he says.

"Gonna grab you over your chest and under your arm. Try not to fight me, OK?" He remembers Lennie's arms around him, pushing him down, dragging at him... He can't think like that now.

He hooks over him quickly and lets the back of Garner's head rest in against his chest. Kicking hard with his legs, he hauls him away from the draw of the current. He'd felt it a little against his feet before getting them further to the side. "I got you. Gonna be a haul back to shore. You jes' relax." And hopefully, he has enough gas in the tank to get them there safely.

[whisperedone]

Another round of coughing takes him, but he tries to nod around it. He still flinches lightly when George touches him, but more from surprise than agitation or fear. He just couldn't 'see' out here.

He lets George guide where he's meant to be and starts to try to 'help' in their kicking and propulsion, but stops as soon as he's told not to. Probably for the best...he felt heavy., like the water had filled him while he'd been dragged.

"Give me a few moments and I can help if you get tired." He's pretty sure, anyway. "Thank you...I don't know what happened. The water...grabbed me?"

[bindlestifflost]

"Yeah, I'll let you know," he says, sounding short but it's only because it's effort to haul somebody with him through the water like this. He's a strong swimmer, at least. "Heard of it before. Ocean swimming. Think they call 'em rip tides." Thinks he sees exactly why now.

At first it's going...OK. The shore never really seems to be getting all that much closer no matter how hard he kicks or strokes one armed, but then he sees a gray, black tipped triangle cut the waves about fifteen feet to their left before it sinks back down again, and his heart feels like it's jumping into his throat.

Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. "Garner?" His voice sounds tighter yet. "Need you to do me a real big favor. You feel anything, uh...bump you that ain't me, you tell me right quick, OK?" What the hell either one of them can do about it, he has no idea. He still wants to know.

Feast

[worthallthis]

Winter has not changed his usual outfit at all for the beach day: two layers of shirt (though he has, halfway through the day, ditched the jacket), heavy jeans, combat boots, gloves to hide the metal hand from regular beach-goers. And he prowls the beach rather than finding one place and sticking to it, as if looking for trouble.

He looks from George to the bird. "I can shoot it, if you want," he offers blandly.

It's so bland that it's probable he's not being serious. Probable.

[bindlestifflost]

He snorts a soft sound and shakes his head. He's pretty sure he's pulling his leg. Just in case he isn't...

"Nah, the bastich earned it fair and square, I guess. Need me another hotdog, though. You eaten yet today?" He eyes him up. He looks very all business. He wouldn't put it past him to deny himself. He tosses the bread out, and more gulls descend to devour it.

[worthallthis]

"You're encouraging them," Winter complains, eying the flock with misgivings.

But he turns away to walk with George back to the grill and the tables. "I ate. I might eat more." He smiles, then, suddenly. An intention smile, small but there, and adds, "Kate brought brownies. Mostly for me."

[bindlestifflost]

"Prob'ly," he agrees. It's better than the food going to waste. The bread here's not very good, not like he remembers it. He wasn't going to shove it down without the dog in the middle.

"Oh yeah? That Kate's awwright. She was a big help with hauling the fish back in Wolf Pen." Also had some good ideas, even if ultimately they didn't go with them.

spot the difference, artifact! :v

[lowficharm]

Martin's very much not a fan of dealing with the artifact side of entity stuff- he's had his fair share of messing up with things that are deeply dangerous, but he'll do it when he has to-- and if not him, someone less experienced could get hurt. He's nearby, sifting through a box with one of those extendable grabbers, but his head pokes up when he hears George speak.

"Wh-- oh, oh my god--" Martin drops what he's doing immediately and scurries over to George as he removes his shirt. "It's-- well, it needs pressure, uh, r-right now, but-- I mean, I can't see anything vital in there?" His eyes drift down towards the floor, trying to find the knife. "What happened?"

[bindlestifflost]

George wads up the shirt and shoves it against the long gash, hissing through his teeth. He's still wearing the thick work gloves. "Don't touch it, but I put it on the shelf there." He nods toward where the innocuous looking weapon is lying.

"I was jes' lookin' at it, trying to see if there was markings, then I felt like I been cut." And clearly, he had been. The blood is already soaking through his shirt.

"It didn't touch my skin at all. I know that much."

[lowficharm]

Martin is sure to take a look, file that under 'do not touch', and then go back to attending George. It's a hell of a slice for something unintentional, but Martin knows well enough that cursed items tend to just... be like that.

"No, I, I believe you-- it shouldn't have gotten you like this." He's talking as he's moving, jogging for a medkit station in the nearest wall and retrieving the bag before sprinting back. "Maybe it was a-- a pulse, sort of thing? Or it sensed closed skin, or-- okay, I don't know." He's digging around for as much gauze as he can find. "Is it still bleeding like-- really badly? Keep the uh, keep the pressure on it."

[bindlestifflost]

"Yeah, I don't know either. I didn't feel nothin' through my hand or arm. Jes' suddenly cut up." He watches him with the med kit, glad there was something like that around here. He supposes it makes sense given what they're dealing with.

"I can't tell if I got pressure on it. Hang on." He carefully peels back the blood soaked shirt just enough to look. "Not as bad as it was. This seems to be workin'." That's a relief. It's a cursed object but maybe not a cursed wound.