thisavrou_log | ( open ) there's a road that follows to a home

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( open ) there's a road that follows to a home

Who: Angela & you!
When: The month of February and onward
Where: Region 2 farmlands, at her cottage
What: A permanent downtime log for house shenanigans!
Warnings: None, but I will update if anything comes along!

[ Angela's work schedule is a fairly clear-cut thing on the best of days. Three days working in Kauto's hospital, three days up on Chioni, and then two days off. Around the time of planet discovery and the initial burst of travels, she hovers around the Ingress Complex to assist any who may return injured, and she's otherwise on call across all three if emergencies required her skills. To say she isn't home terribly often is a fair enough assessment, but she still had plenty of downtime every evening, considering the longer days.

There's a key in the base of the lantern beside her front door, but not everyone knows about it— not even a handful from her own world. Those who do, however, know they have a free pass to her home whether she's there or no. A spare bed to crawl into, a couch to wait on, access to her stash of medical supplies (but seriously just call her for help). A kitchen to rummage through, now often with fresh-baked bread and a steady offering of apples off her trees on hand, as well as any leftovers in the fridge.

Eiger still accompanies her to work as a resident therapy dog, but he could be found around the property when she works her shifts on Chioni, access out the back door through the flap when he no longer feels like awaiting her return at the front. The cottage itself is on a hill and the back extends out on a bridge as an elongated sunroom, stretching out over the creek running through her property. The back door itself leads one to a winding path down through the copse of trees preceding her quaint little orchard of apple and walnut trees, surrounding a gazebo set up with a fire pit and the basics for cooking in warmer weather, hammock piled high in furs leftover from the Midway Hub's game— if anyone chose to visit and didn't have access to her house, this would be the ideal place to camp. (Just make sure to message her so she knows you're there! She'll come around once she's home to let you in.)

If she's home and not in the house, one would undoubtedly find her in that hammock with her work, fire crackling at hand and her cup of coffee long-since cold, Eiger curled up behind her legs. It's not the largest of places, but it's home, and there's blankets on near every surface— even the chairs in the kitchen. The creek is a relaxing babble, the creak of the water wheel partially powering her home, and if she's home, there's always a fire going if it's cold out and coffee going. ]

( ooc: This will be a permanent post for house stuff! I'll be posting monthly headers and any prompts relating to events or going-ons within to link from my toplevels, but I am 100% open to casual plotting or visits; just hit me up at

clegane or on discord (gauche#5968) and we can work something out! ♥ )

february ● march ● april ● may ● june ● july ● august

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[ It's a bit rough, that laugh, but his hands are in the pockets of whatever pants she'd rounded up for him and her stride still matches his, weight swaying gently at his side with his every step, proximity never budging. As long as they could manage, they'd stretch this moment until it tore. It is quiet, the insects of the planet bizarre and quiet this time of year, but they're nearing on the tail end of the stream through her property they can follow up through to pass the gazebo, then the orchard, then she'll quietly detour back to her home without spanning the last of the land.

He really does need to rest, much as this does him good as well. All things in moderation. She doesn't want him so sore it hinders another walk tomorrow. ]

That's a relief to hear, stubborn as you are. But you say things like that and I may never let you leave. At least here I've got you in my sights.

[ H E H. But eventually the din of water over rocks is close enough to taste, coming into sight as she changes course just slightly to walk up alongside it, at least until she's giving into temptation and drawing him closer— just enough to kick a foot up between each step and shed her shoes one at a time, then she veers a little closer and her bare feet dip into the cold stream with a quiet lance of shivers running up her spine. Just the once. Then she seems to settle, having to warn Eiger off leaping through the water to match before he gets any funny ideas running back to them. Jack's turn to throw. ]

What are your plans, from hereon out?

[He rolls his eyes, the expression practically audible, but he laughs again and it’s affectionate, fond. Jack extricates a hand from his pocket and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer in an easy gesture that says much more than he can effectively voice. After a moment, it becomes clear he didn’t really think this out and releases her, shrugging a little as his hand returns to his jacket.

He’s never really been one for physical closeness, but he supposes she can’t fault him for trying. Eiger provides a well-timed distraction, and he tosses the pinecone far enough to disappear into the trees.]

Here? Wait for my number to come up, I guess.

[His voice falls, making his distaste for the situation obvious. He can’t pretend there isn’t work to do. Jack can’t hide in Angela’s living room forever, as nice as it might sound.]

Tell the others.

[ That's much more like it. That laugh warmed with his fondness, made better with the arm he drapes across her shoulders, pulling her in close as she matches his steps and huffs an echo of his own laugh under her breath, her arm circling behind him to settle slender fingers at his waist.

Call it a hug, then, while walking. When his arm falls from her shoulders, she'll let him go as well with only a touch of hesitance, having more than welcomed the attempt and wanting only to encourage further— let him get used to being around others, again. For closeness with those he could trust, people whose company he enjoyed, friends he could relax with. It's always gone too soon as it is. ]

That's all any of us can do, I suppose. Genji and Jesse were lucky to have returned home so quickly. And your home, here? Had you found a job yet?

[ The drop of his tone, just recently so warm, isn't overlooked. Her brows pinch in response with no other indicators, typical enough for her in trusted company. She didn't let her tells show so easily. ]

I'd agree that everyone deserves to know, but on the same hand... You can take some time with it, Jack. I know this wasn't easy on you, even with just me, and I'm arguably easier than the rest.

[ More forgiving, she means. Understanding. Far be it from Angela to throw punches to expel her compounded worry built up over the years, much as he may have preferred it. The water tempers her further as the stream passes between her toes, lapping at her ankles and threatening the cuff of capris as silt softens the pebbling along the edges of the stream. ]

Yeah, I’m doing some freelance security.

[Freelance security that ended very poorly, but now Jack knows better. He’ll be more careful with his jobs in the future, now that he knows what all of this about. Settle in. Learn the lay of the land. Be less frustrated, less desperate to take the first thing that will give him some action.

And there’s the farm, of course, but that’s far too close to retirement.

He doesn’t want to say that he has doubts about whether or not people actually return home—it’s uncomfortable to think about Jesse and Genji gone but not back where they’re supposed to be. All the more reason for him to come clean as soon as he can. It’s not fair to the rest of them, otherwise.]

The longer I wait, the harder it’ll get. I should just rip off the band-aid.

Mm, that suits you. You never could sit still.

[ Was never really given the chance, and refused it the rare times it cropped up. To do what? Vacation on some nice beach somewhere, beer in the sand? She's certain he couldn't turn it off— the stream of data in his eyepiece, always keyed into current events and eye catching every scrolling marquee of news bytes no matter what inane thing the reporter or weatherman on the screen had to say.

She wants to see him have this. A bit of rest before they return.

Angela can't afford room for negative thoughts or considering possibilities of outcomes she can't influence. It's never been her style.

They're in the orchard now, quaint though it may be, stream winding through and seeing them right back out within the brief silence between them stretching no more than a minute and a half, maybe two. The sound of his boots along river rock and Angela's ankles parting the water with the gentlest splash here and there, then the steady beat of Eiger running back up. This time with nothing in his mouth, because fetch is over and he's panting heavily, ears perked and tail going. Happy, sated.

Jack had a far better arm than she did, after all. He tired out before the end of the walk with all the extra distance. ]

Well, it's up to you in the end. You've had my professional opinion. Down there's just the gazebo— we can head back up this way.

[She still knows him better than most people; knows how he needs to keep himself active and moving and doing something with himself. He gets bored and restless and makes terrible decisions if he doesn't have an outlet--his entire career as a vigilante might be testament to his insatiable need to accomplish something, anything. He'd go stir crazy before he's made to stay still, a quality in him that lead to his unfortunate mishap on Eosoros.

Jack is hard to slow down, but without his people--most notably Angela--there to tell him when too much is too much, his self-preservation is dangerously low. He gives her a long look when he can't think of how to fill the silence, something fond in his expression. Just the fact that she's here with him now means more to him than she can possibly know.

He gives Eiger a few hard scratches as reward for his return, straightening to appraise the gazebo as she points to it.]

I'll tell them, Ange. I just need a little time.

[Mostly to recover from being stabbed.]

[ Jack is hard to slow down, yes, but she can do her best to encourage him doing so before it's too late and he's pushed past his threshold. She knew his body about as well as anyone could, after all, and had done her best to map the limits of a super soldier's metabolism, energy levels, output, and what it took to recover. The problem wasn't in his recovery so much as it was in his reckless habit of throwing himself to the dogs over and over, thinking he could take it and that it'd be a worthwhile sacrifice if it saved others.

And that was his call to make, but what he thought he could take surpasses his actual abilities. And those are only wearing down with time. Even enhanced as he is, the soldier enhancement program was not designed for the long haul. Sooner rather than later, he'd be breaking down. Recovery times would stretch out, the aches and pains would be permanent. He's a force of good in the world and he had to stretch what time he had to its maximum potential rather than cut it shorter.

Jack fixes his gaze on her and she meets it after a few moments, aware but not acknowledging until she couldn't hold out much longer. It's the fondness that softens her as her feet leave the icy stream and she turns them toward the path back up to her home, Eiger taking point after a quick lap at a wet ankle, playful. ]

I know. I just want to see you recovering, first.

[ That's all she'd ask of him— be at least 90% before going in for a fight. ]

Let's get back inside; the water was tempting but now I'm freezing.

You're the one who stepped in it.

[But Jack is good-natured about it, brushing his hand against Eiger before he bounds away. He knows what he has to do and that he can't put off doing it for much longer, but he'll enjoy this moment while he still can. Angela clearly wants him to, and it's the least he can do while he's recovering from his injury.

He holds out his hand for her--not that she needs him to help her along, but he imagines she'll appreciate the gesture. Perhaps he needs it more than he lets on.]

I can make something warm once we get back.

[Tea, maybe. He's sure that Angela has something stocked for these purposes.]

[ Obviously, Jack Morrison. The roll of her eyes says as much, just as amused as she is exasperated for the comeback, light-hearted for the touch of teasing. The first she's seen of him, really, in actual years.

(Don't hurt yourself tripping over those feelings, Jack. No one's twisting your arm here.)

When he holds his hand out for her, she'll take it after only a moment's hesitation, surprised with the gesture but, ultimately, conceding. Her fingers fan to lace through his, far warmer than her own, arm twined under his and bringing her other over to cover her fingertips at the back of his hand and bump against his side every few steps. ]

Is this something else I'll have to come to terms with? [ Teasing him mercilessly, the entire concept that he's grown accustomed to kitchens over the years. ] I'd like that very much.

[ Coffee, because she's not some sort of poncy animal. The only tea in her house is for guests with upset stomachs— not her own consumption, tucked away in the far reaches of her pantry. After all the years, Jack Morrison. ]

[It's a small gesture, but it's also the best he can do, and of course she welcomes it. The cold doesn't really bother him, but he lets her sidle up to him as much as she likes, managing not to flinch at the slightest hint of human contact. It's still not easy, but little moments like this help it get easier with each passing gesture.

She bumps against his side and he bumps back, gently. It's a start.]

Yeah.

[There's still a lot he's coming to terms with himself, and it isn't going to happen all at once. Starting small will have to do, and he knows she has patience to spare.]

What are you in the mood for?

[ It's something she'd always welcome— the one thing he should be able to count on, always, when it came to Angela. That she'd have patience and that if he reaches for her, she'll always take his hands. That his attempts will always be embraced and encouraged, that she'd see him back on his feet as quickly as possible. That she'd always have his flank.

And because he allows it, she'll take that sliver of an opening to press a little closer, sidling up beside him where the wet brush of her leggings very nearly skims along his calf between steps, where his warmth is an ever-present comfort from shoulder to fingertips. He doesn't seem to mind. Every few steps leaves them bumping into each other no matter how their steps synchronize and she smiles to herself, head tipping over to rest against his bicep. ]

Hmm... I wonder how easy I should go on you. Single-serve coffee, or hot chocolate? Maybe hot chocolate.

[ Where he'd have to heat up milk in a saucepan instead of press a button on a coffee machine; the nerve. ]

I can make that.

[Jack sounds almost offended that he wouldn't be able to make coffee--even her fancy European kind--or hot chocolate on the stovetop. He's not so pedestrian as to think she'd settle for anything instant. He knows her well enough to assume that much.]

You have no faith in me.

[Joking, of course, but Jack is in a good mood for once (in part thanks to her), which means he makes the effort to have the mock-pout in his voice sound almost convincing.]

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( open ) there's a road that follows to a home

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