Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hardwearing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2020-02-21 05:28 pm
hardwearing) wrote in meadowlarklogs2020-02-21 05:28 pm
[ OPEN ]
WHO: Washington ("David") & ANYONE
WHERE: various locations in New Amsterdam
WHEN: shortly after arrivals
WHAT: adventures at the skate park and shopping district, baby's first fight club, choose your own adventure!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: will add as needed... violence for fight club?
i. skate park
[ It’s rare that Wash takes any time for fun things — his team back home was responsible for most of them, if left to his own devices he will typically train either himself or them, work on chore type things around the base, not stuff just to unwind. But in Meadowlark, he’s been on his own until Carolina arrived and realized awhile ago that he needs some way to relax after all, at least a little. He’s not good at being a lone wolf, not good at understanding his limits just pushing himself harder to cope… but it’s been awhile since he’s been able to sleep, since he was able to get his struggles with the situation here out of his head even if he’s training as hard as he can. His mind never calms. So even without the more traditionally laid back members of his team, he’s trying something unusual for him. Something just for fun.
He came across a skate park and he hasn’t picked up one of his own yet, but figures if he hangs out long enough he can attempt a conversation, ask where they got their gear, maybe borrow one from someone there and just skate for awhile. Do the hoverboards work like wheeled boards? How much of a learning curve is there? Wash isn’t sure but he’s headed back there now, watching at first and then approaching someone who looks to be taking a break. The guy is skeptical but lets him borrow the board to try it out.
…the learning curve is steep as it turns out. Half the time the board just shoots out from under him and the others at the park laugh, but Wash is used to being laughed at and doesn’t give up easily. He wants to master this, and focusing on it is far more engaging than anything he’s tried here so far. A decent workout, too, as he gets the hang of it and starts doing spins and flips on the thing. By the time the guy taking a break asks for his board back, there are a few onlookers smiling approvingly, willing to let him borrow theirs too if it continues the show. Both fumbling and newfound skill.
Yeah. This was a good idea. ]
ii. shopping
[ Wash has been saving up for an apartment, to get out of the not-safe-at-all feeling Safehouse, but he does have another priority that’s reared its head recently: decent clothes. He still only has what little there was that fit him at the Safehouse when he first arrived, and some of it is looking a bit threadbare. And now that he's got a place and a roommate settled, he can drop some of the rest he was saving. The thing is… he’s barely ever shopped for himself. He was a kid and then he was military and he didn’t have much of his own, or much that he ever liked. He doesn’t have a personal fashion sense, just wears what’s comfortable and it doesn’t quite blend with the aesthetics in New Amsterdam. So he’s in one of the cheaper shopping districts, poking around the stores both curious and overwhelmed by the breadth of choice.
Maybe you want to help him figure out what cuts and colors look best on him, or spot him lingering outside an electronics store smiling dopily at an electronic pet kitten that he shouldn’t waste money on, or ducking into the skate shop to see just how much some sneakers and a hoverboard of his own would run him. The answer is too much, but maybe not in time. ]
iii. fight club
[ Making money as one of the Displaced is harder than Wash would have thought — then again, he’s never had a real job before. Never had to provide for himself, not exactly. This kind of life is as foreign to him as this world but he’s heard there’s good money to be made at the fight clubs down in the seedy part of town. He’d visited and watched a few, didn’t think it was really his deal, he’s more into training and sparring, but he can obviously fight. Oh, he can fight. He might have to be careful when he does but he’s here now and has gotten his shit in order to have an actual match.
The other fighters in the back room, waiting for their matches, all seem to know how this works, lots of them have a look and a persona. Wash doesn’t. He’s just in sweats and a tank top, stretching a little to warm up because that’s what everyone else is doing. It’s not like he needs to, he thinks, but knows that overconfidence won’t get him anywhere.
When they call him that he’s up he follows his opponent down the walkway into the ring, looking up at the crowd. He’s no stranger to fighting with an audience, but not for one. Can he be showy enough to pull this off? They’re cheering, which is something new as well, and he waves awkwardly while his opponent struts around with his arms over his head, shirtless and… oiled? Weird. Probably to slip out of holds as much as it is for looks. Wash shakes the guy’s hand and waits for the bell to ring… then they’re off.
The fight is a flurry of strikes and dodges, Wash pulling most of his punches and kicks because he doesn’t want to actually injure anyone but that means it’s largely a draw and the crowd starts getting antsy. He needs a finishing move, something fancy, something that’ll hold their attention or he won’t be able to do this again, but that won’t hurt the guy. He starts hitting harder, forcing his opponent back into the ropes, then sweeping his legs out from under him while he’s stunned and dropping down on top of him to try and finish him off with one sharp hit that won’t leave any permanent damage… the crowd boos him. They wanted to see blood, pain. Maybe this kind of fighting really just isn’t for Wash, but he stands up and looks to the overseer, who’s frowning… and raises two fingers. Give him another shot, send out the next guy. The man considers, turns his head to speak to the fellow next to him, then nods once. One more chance. ‘Be more impressive’ is written all over the man’s face.
…he can do this. He’ll stop dodging, and he’ll hit harder. He’ll do some fancier moves. Be less efficient. Turn the crowd.
He can be found after the fight back on the sidelines or in the back room, cheers echoing behind him, flexing his bruised and bloody hands. He’s got a split above his eye that’s bled all down the side of his face but is already healing, Wash trying to hide that under a towel and his glowing chest under a sweatshirt. Fellow Displaced will know the signs, though. There’s also a look of uncertainty on his face, perhaps even vague distress about what he just did. The guy will be fine, this is for sport not for real. He just has trouble switching gears in that way. ]
iv. wildcard
[ Wash can also be found being an insomniac around the Safehouse, at work at Red Wings, or training around the city, mostly running and bodyweight exercises in the early hours of the morning… or whenever he starts getting restless. If you’d like something completely different or just a custom starter, feel free to hit me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
cuddlebug or on discord at koutavi#1461 ! ]
WHERE: various locations in New Amsterdam
WHEN: shortly after arrivals
WHAT: adventures at the skate park and shopping district, baby's first fight club, choose your own adventure!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: will add as needed... violence for fight club?
i. skate park
[ It’s rare that Wash takes any time for fun things — his team back home was responsible for most of them, if left to his own devices he will typically train either himself or them, work on chore type things around the base, not stuff just to unwind. But in Meadowlark, he’s been on his own until Carolina arrived and realized awhile ago that he needs some way to relax after all, at least a little. He’s not good at being a lone wolf, not good at understanding his limits just pushing himself harder to cope… but it’s been awhile since he’s been able to sleep, since he was able to get his struggles with the situation here out of his head even if he’s training as hard as he can. His mind never calms. So even without the more traditionally laid back members of his team, he’s trying something unusual for him. Something just for fun.
He came across a skate park and he hasn’t picked up one of his own yet, but figures if he hangs out long enough he can attempt a conversation, ask where they got their gear, maybe borrow one from someone there and just skate for awhile. Do the hoverboards work like wheeled boards? How much of a learning curve is there? Wash isn’t sure but he’s headed back there now, watching at first and then approaching someone who looks to be taking a break. The guy is skeptical but lets him borrow the board to try it out.
…the learning curve is steep as it turns out. Half the time the board just shoots out from under him and the others at the park laugh, but Wash is used to being laughed at and doesn’t give up easily. He wants to master this, and focusing on it is far more engaging than anything he’s tried here so far. A decent workout, too, as he gets the hang of it and starts doing spins and flips on the thing. By the time the guy taking a break asks for his board back, there are a few onlookers smiling approvingly, willing to let him borrow theirs too if it continues the show. Both fumbling and newfound skill.
Yeah. This was a good idea. ]
ii. shopping
[ Wash has been saving up for an apartment, to get out of the not-safe-at-all feeling Safehouse, but he does have another priority that’s reared its head recently: decent clothes. He still only has what little there was that fit him at the Safehouse when he first arrived, and some of it is looking a bit threadbare. And now that he's got a place and a roommate settled, he can drop some of the rest he was saving. The thing is… he’s barely ever shopped for himself. He was a kid and then he was military and he didn’t have much of his own, or much that he ever liked. He doesn’t have a personal fashion sense, just wears what’s comfortable and it doesn’t quite blend with the aesthetics in New Amsterdam. So he’s in one of the cheaper shopping districts, poking around the stores both curious and overwhelmed by the breadth of choice.
Maybe you want to help him figure out what cuts and colors look best on him, or spot him lingering outside an electronics store smiling dopily at an electronic pet kitten that he shouldn’t waste money on, or ducking into the skate shop to see just how much some sneakers and a hoverboard of his own would run him. The answer is too much, but maybe not in time. ]
iii. fight club
[ Making money as one of the Displaced is harder than Wash would have thought — then again, he’s never had a real job before. Never had to provide for himself, not exactly. This kind of life is as foreign to him as this world but he’s heard there’s good money to be made at the fight clubs down in the seedy part of town. He’d visited and watched a few, didn’t think it was really his deal, he’s more into training and sparring, but he can obviously fight. Oh, he can fight. He might have to be careful when he does but he’s here now and has gotten his shit in order to have an actual match.
The other fighters in the back room, waiting for their matches, all seem to know how this works, lots of them have a look and a persona. Wash doesn’t. He’s just in sweats and a tank top, stretching a little to warm up because that’s what everyone else is doing. It’s not like he needs to, he thinks, but knows that overconfidence won’t get him anywhere.
When they call him that he’s up he follows his opponent down the walkway into the ring, looking up at the crowd. He’s no stranger to fighting with an audience, but not for one. Can he be showy enough to pull this off? They’re cheering, which is something new as well, and he waves awkwardly while his opponent struts around with his arms over his head, shirtless and… oiled? Weird. Probably to slip out of holds as much as it is for looks. Wash shakes the guy’s hand and waits for the bell to ring… then they’re off.
The fight is a flurry of strikes and dodges, Wash pulling most of his punches and kicks because he doesn’t want to actually injure anyone but that means it’s largely a draw and the crowd starts getting antsy. He needs a finishing move, something fancy, something that’ll hold their attention or he won’t be able to do this again, but that won’t hurt the guy. He starts hitting harder, forcing his opponent back into the ropes, then sweeping his legs out from under him while he’s stunned and dropping down on top of him to try and finish him off with one sharp hit that won’t leave any permanent damage… the crowd boos him. They wanted to see blood, pain. Maybe this kind of fighting really just isn’t for Wash, but he stands up and looks to the overseer, who’s frowning… and raises two fingers. Give him another shot, send out the next guy. The man considers, turns his head to speak to the fellow next to him, then nods once. One more chance. ‘Be more impressive’ is written all over the man’s face.
…he can do this. He’ll stop dodging, and he’ll hit harder. He’ll do some fancier moves. Be less efficient. Turn the crowd.
He can be found after the fight back on the sidelines or in the back room, cheers echoing behind him, flexing his bruised and bloody hands. He’s got a split above his eye that’s bled all down the side of his face but is already healing, Wash trying to hide that under a towel and his glowing chest under a sweatshirt. Fellow Displaced will know the signs, though. There’s also a look of uncertainty on his face, perhaps even vague distress about what he just did. The guy will be fine, this is for sport not for real. He just has trouble switching gears in that way. ]
iv. wildcard
[ Wash can also be found being an insomniac around the Safehouse, at work at Red Wings, or training around the city, mostly running and bodyweight exercises in the early hours of the morning… or whenever he starts getting restless. If you’d like something completely different or just a custom starter, feel free to hit me at
no subject
It's no problem. [ and it's not. his well-being matters to her, more than he even knows. ] Do you need anything?
no subject
[ He does know that she wanders the base when she can't sleep, though. They might both be up for awhile. ]
Unless you don't want to.
no subject
I can keep you company for a while, unless you wanted to be alone.
no subject
[ Every now and then he wakes Tucker with his nightmares, too, and they'll stay up awhile and talk until they're ready to nod back off. It helps. And Carolina's company is certainly always welcome.
Wash passes her a pillow and eases himself back down, lying on his side facing her. ]
I don't know what else to talk about, though.
no subject
[ although she has the pillow in a good spot to lie down beside him, carolina doesn't do that just yet, curious about an impulse she has first. if it makes things worse, she can leave, no harm done. but it might help.
so she reaches out, her motion deliberately where wash can see it, and moves to settle her hand on top of one of his. if he allows the contact, he'll be able to feel her concern for him - not so much as to be patronizing, but a warm, sturdy thing that comes from caring deeply about someone suffering. there's almost none of carolina's usual anxiety under the surface of that concern, just more warmth and caring and cautiously wanting to help. ]
no subject
[ Wash then goes tense when he sees her hand coming, but doesn't pull away. It's more a deer in headlights sort of thing, his eyes wide and wary because what is she doing? She doesn't want to feel this. He doesn't want her to feel this, but she must be aware and by the time he's decided no, bad, he should pull back, she's already touching him.
Oh.
He exhales in a rush because it's such a relief to feel something different, something steady and soothing that doesn't take over confusingly but instead settles like a balm over his raw nerves. She can both see and feel him uncoil, his head sinking a little deeper into his pillow, shoulder dropping... and he turns his hand to hold hers, thumb stroking over the back. He is a rattled mess, though, however much her influence mitigates it. That was a very bad dream and he hasn't quite calmed down physically yet either. Emotionally there are remnants of fear, grief, and self-blame. ]
...is it horrible?
no subject
so she worries more about trying to centre herself, settle into some warm, calm feeling so she can share it with him, so she can try to soothe some of his distress.
another deep breath and she turns her hand, threading her fingers with his, solidifying their bond as her gaze fixes on his face. ]
No. It's okay.
[ we're okay, just a little less sappy. ]
no subject
You might as well get comfortable.
[ Meanwhile he'll just turn on what's basically late night radio in New Amsterdam, broadcast straight into their heads. He's tossed it on before just for himself, the host alternates between conspiracy theories Wash wonders about the truth of and playing music and reading out actual news. He's got a soothing voice, though. ]
no subject
how much he actually uses her as a pillow is up to him, but she's offering whatever sort of sentimental safety cuddles he wants, her fingers finding bare skin on his arm to reestablish contact once they're settled. she's still palpably just trying to make him feel better. ]
no subject
A little awkwardly he scoots in, resting his head on her shoulder (though his chin winds up pressing against a distinct softness that rises a flush to his cheeks) and draping an arm around her waist, his weight a gentle pressure against her side.
She smells like a different soap, something sweeter and more floral than his. Or maybe that's just her. A flutter of nerves will come across the bond when she touches his arm but mostly he's grateful and curious if this'll help, if maybe he'll get back to sleep or calm down faster with her pulse under his cheek and her steady breathing rocking him slightly. His own is still too fast. ]
no subject
this is a hell of a lot easier than offering to talk about things. she doubts either of them want that. ]
Try to match my breathing. [ it's quiet, after a long little stretch of silence where he still feels physically distressed against her. ] Might help.