Martin Blackwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
antichristsplusone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-04 07:55 am
antichristsplusone) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-04 07:55 am
|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
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.
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.
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.
BANG BANG BANG
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?
no subject
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? ]
no subject
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?