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

[antichristsplusone]

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.

Comments

[transfundere]

He nods, though he's only heard a little about Thorne so far. Nothing that would have made him think that they had firearms, exactly. But it's an interesting piece of information to add to his collection of notes.

"I wasn't looking for one myself," he says mildly, his voice warm and low and that accent is definitely British at least, "but the information is useful. Thank you."

He steps a little further into the light and offers a bow of his head.

"Jonathan Reid. Doctor Jonathan Reid, though I admit I'm without most of my medical equipment at the moment. My apologies for startling you."

[antichristsplusone]

"Oh- oh no it's alright, I'm just-- a bit twitchy, generally speaking," he says, bobbing his head in return to the man's - Reid's (Easier than Jonathan, Christ). The familiar accent is nice, though. Almost homey. "I'm Martin- Martin Blackwood, um - I-I suppose assistant archivist, if we're sharing titles, but mine isn't- well, practical here, not really. I don't..."

He turns to face the doctor properly, lifting a hand to brush some thickening curls off the back of his neck. "I don't think we've met...?"

[transfundere]

"We have not," he'll be the first to admit and he will offer a bow of his head in lieu of a handshake that might make Martin unsure of where or how to handle the gun in his hands.

"As I am only recently arrived in this place. In truth, I start to wonder how practical my own title may become, given the current limitations."

But he doesn't sound upset about that. Challenged, certainly, but not upset.

"Of late, 'babysitter' would be more apt, I think."

Gently self-depreciating; there's no bite there.

"Though the people here have made me aware of the greater threat. They seem to know little about how one might approach handling it, however."

[antichristsplusone]

The 'babysitter' gets an amused chuckle from Martin as well. "Well, uh, it is one of the easiest ways to build a good reputation quickly, here. I've been doing it part-time while I work at the library, I-I read to the kids in the morning."

He sighs softly, though, adjusting the leather strap of his holster as he buckles his gun in properly. "Yeah, that. Uhm. The locals-- uh, Solvunn specifically is the furthest away, so they've adopted a- I suppose you could call it a policy for just-- ignoring the entire situation. The Singularity, i-it's well beyond their borders, so they don't particularly care? Let Thorne and the Free Cities fight over it, sort of thing."

[transfundere]

"Mornings are unfortunately unavailable to me," he admits with a dip of his head, and he has a nice medical term to use should anyone question that. To the news bout the 'policy', he nods as well.

"I'm not sure that it is the safest of plans," he notes, "but action without knowledge is likely to cause more harm than help. I am a man of action, but, I hope, not a fool looking for his death."