abraxaslogs | |Open| The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it

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|Open| The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it

WHO: Martin and anyone who's interested!
WHAT: Life, the universe, mostly daily life. More toplevels as required
WHEN: October catch-all
WHERE: Primary settlement, also Horizon

Outskirts of the Primary Settlement

Martin has a gun.

Martin K. Blackwood has a gun.

It's not like it's been suddenly thrust upon him right now, at least, he's been doing some training with Roland in and out of Horizon (ammo didn't run out there, after all; and until his hands had stopped shaking after every time he fired it, he was much happier knowing he couldn't misfire and legitimately hurt someone, though hiding the practice from Jon had been... difficult. Nearly as bad as the kids).

No, it's mostly still something he's just existentially baffled by. He never thought he'd reach the point in his life where he'd have a gun on him as a permanent accessory. So, at the very least, since that's a thing now, he'd like to at least make sure he can use it properly.

He's taken about a half dozen pieces of firewood to use as target practice, and lined them up on a fence at the very edge of the commune, so his firing disturbs as few people as possible - but a gun in a country town made of wide open spaces isn't subtle, still - and the field is out of rotation right now so the only targets he has are the wood, and he'll see people coming from a long way off.

So. Here he goes. Christ.

Horizon

His library may be small, but these days Martin keeps its doors wide open, and a little 'shrine' made of pebbles, sticks and already strung through with spider's silk next to the entrance, less than six inches tall.

The library itself is the same as ever: a huge, modern public library with rows upon stacks of shelves, arranged as per the Dewey decimal system; but at the front of the library, nearest the doors to Martin's office, a new shelf has been set up, filled (sparsely, at the moment, but neatly) with labelled tapes, and on the nearest table is a player-recorder for them, with a note taped to the table next to it in a neat hand: "Please don't tape over anything, thanks! ~Martin"

Once or twice a day, it's pretty easy to overhear Martin talking to himself in his office, with the door shut to keep unwanted noise out.

Wildcard
Martin's daily routine is otherwise remarkably consistent. Mornings spent with the kids he lives with, lunch through til the afternoon working on his own projects and interests, evenings helping the family with dinner, and nights to himself. So far he's yet to travel past the primary settlement, despite his curiosity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ A fair way out from the main township of Solvunn, Roland and Martin are alone in a field with a single tree in the distance. Not one for taking chances when Martin often has a gaggle of children around him-- children who aren't likely to have any gun sense -- Roland's brought them where there's little chance of an accident occurring.

Having already started with the basics of gun care, things like stance and posture have gone fairly smoothly. The gunslinger's creed likewise is something Roland's been drilling into him-- not to aim with his hand but his eye; not to shoot with his hand but his mind; not to kill with his gun but his heart.

Now there's only the practice-- drawing, aiming, firing, to be repeated until Martin can no longer miss. The tree, with it's small leaves, is today's target.

It's not immediately apparent that Roland's in a poor mood. He generally keeps his emotions to himself, preferring to watch and observe rather than be the center of attention if it isn't called for. But the lack of the New Yorker Eddie Dean at his side, and the lack of him anywhere in the settlements in the past few days, isn't something anyone familiar with him is likely to miss.

And Roland is quick to snap when Martin's shot doesn't hit the mark. ]

Concentrate, Martin of London. For your father's sake.

[Martin's gotten good at not flinching when someone snaps at him, and that's not even something that can be attributed to Roland alone. A lifetime of a... well, very difficult mother (and even in his own mind he tries hard not to betray his real thoughts on her) has left him hyperaware of other people's irritation, regardless of whether it's aimed at him.

That doesn't mean he can stop a wince flicking across his face, at the sheer unexpectedness of it from someone he'd rather gratefully slotted as "too above it all for that", or how his fingers curls tighter around the gun's grip. He takes a slow breath, trying not to make it sound sharp.]

I don't know my father's face, Roland. I really, honestly don't.

[He removes his trigger finger and lowers his gun as he turns to look at the gunslinger.]

Are you alright? You're not normally this... [His gun hand twitches, but he remembers to gesture up and down the man with his free hand.] ...on edge?

[ Roland is sick of explaining the simplest things to people. He's frustrated that the only other person from his world is living on the other side of the continent in the company of the worst devil-man alive. He can remember the feel of his guns in his hand when he'd been in the horizon and misses the weight of them.

And he isn't at all joyous having green youngster pry into any of it. ]

Perhaps if you cared more for you aim and less for my well-being we'd already be done for today.

[ As immediately as he says it he regrets it, and there's only a few seconds pause before he immediately holds up a hand in apology ]

Ah- cry your pardon, Martin Blackwood. I am indeed, as you say, on an edge.

[ Gods, is this to be his whole life? Making the most basic mistakes even after he ought to have learned better? ]

[This time he gives no reaction at all, just a slow blink and a quiet inhale. If Roland wants a rise out of him, he's going to have to try harder than that.

And he's half expecting the man to, but when he relents and apologises, Martin visibly relaxes, just a little, and while his smile is a bit tight still, it's genuinely relieved.]

It's-- no problem, really, just. [He takes another small breath, centering himself as he lifts to aim at the tree again.] If there's something wrong, you'll probably feel better talking about it, maybe...? Instead of just...

[He narrows his eyes slightly, before he pulls the trigger, and in the distance bark explodes as the bullet hits a thick branch. His lips press, but he doesn't comment.]

Getting mad?

It's probably a quiet day when Eponine slips in the library. She's fairly certain that she shouldn't be there... but that's never stopped her before, so here she is. With a sigh of contentment, she makes a beeline for the books. Slipping between the shelves, she just stares at the books, well aware of their value. But desire overcomes her and after furtively looking around, she grabs for one and shoves it up her top and wraps her arms over it to hide the bulk.

Book stolen, she goes back towards the door as quietly as she can. It's a shame it's rather creaky though. She pushes on it and winces as the hinges sound.

"Shhh -" she hisses at it. "You want me caught, you stupid door?"

Martin's already aware when someone steps into his library - largely because he's already in his office, just tidying generally because it's still wild to him that he has an office, and he hears the light footsteps scurry in - but it's only when he hears the gentle cursing that he sticks his head out the door.

Oh- this was the girl that Jon was talking to, the one that argued with Coraline.

"I mean- you're not in trouble," he offers lightly, stepping into the hall. He's a stocky guy, with the soft features of someone who's never had to live in real strife, and his English-tinted voice is warm, if uncertain. "You're welcome to stay and read it here, if you like."

"Read what?" Eponine looks innocently back at Martin, as if the book shaped lump under her blouse isn't obvious. But then she cackles.

"Fine, M'sieur. I am caught. Only... only you have so many. I didn't think you couldn't spare a beggar just one book." She tries to manipulate him, as she does with so many. Her shoulders slump in defeat, and she looks sorrowfully at the book before holding it out to him.

"Me, I have always wanted to read a book on.... on..." She moves her fingers under the letters, muttering the sounds quietly before triumphantly saying, "Astronomy."
She has no idea what that is.

"Miss... Miss Thenardier, wasn't it?" His face is only sympathetic, but his tone has the faintest edge of exasperation. "This is a library. The books are all here to be taken, so long as you bring them back later. And even then, since it's Horizon, I can probably just make another one. You're not in trouble."

And she doesn't have to try and make him pity her for anything, he thinks privately. It's not like he's not aware of her trying, he's fully used to being emotionally extorted.

"And also, you've picked a rather difficult book, when, uh. You don't seem to be... necessarily the strongest reader."

"Eponine," Eponine replies tersely. "I ain't a 'Miss'. No one's never called me Miss Thenardier. I am 'Ponine or Jondrette's brat or that."
She scowls and a pink flush of embarrassment colours her cheeks. "And I can read. My mama taught me when I were a child. I can read anything I want. I ain't like the other women. I can read, Sir."
She's fiercely proud of her meagre skills; they're the one thing that sets her aside from the other street rats. And now here is some stupid, pompous oaf stomping all over it? Eponine shakes her head.

"I ain't never been to a library before, Sir, but if their keepers are so rude as you, no wonder it is so empty."

He blinks in surprise, mouth opening a little as he falters on what to say, but that's all the reaction she gets. He's too used to that sort of talk to let himself give more.

After a few seconds, he just clicks his tongue quietly and closes his mouth. "Alright. I'm sorry for offending you, Eponine, I didn't mean anything by it. I more meant that the book you picked has a lot of very unusual words, so even though you can read, it might still be very confusing. If you like, I could help you find something a bit more... enjoyable, for you."

He gives her a slight smile, thin but with a sort of resigned patience. "Do you like stories, Eponine?"

"Ain't this a story, then?" She bites her lip ruefully. "I wanted one of them where the man don't notice the woman for an age, despite her being beautiful and that, but then, there is a fate, like a fairy or that, what brings 'em together and they dance in their arms and they are in love. D'you know such a story?"

She smiles. Apparently, her anger has dissipated with the promise of a better book. "That Nadine were gonna teach me to read my words more but she is a bitch and a liar and I shan't have nowt to do on her, Sir."

She sighs heavily. "So, M'sieur, you will have to do. A beggar can't choose, can she, really?"

hello it is time for GUNS

BANG BANG BANG

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Horizon

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Horizon

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Outskirts

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