Jean Kirschtein (
bluntality) wrote in
robodicking2013-08-13 07:59 pm
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Entry tags:
this au is horrible
[Weeks ago, if you'd asked Jean, living in a barn wouldn't exactly strike him as an ideal situation. It's musty and dirty and not at all glorious, not outfitted with modern amenities or a perfect shelter from the elements. Not fitting for a soldier, though a soldier could make do. But a soldier who had been taught and trained and turned out amongst the best and had taken firm hold of the opportunity for a better life with both hands shouldn't have to just make do.
A soldier also shouldn't have to claw his way out of the hell, choking and sputtering on the fumes and ashes of a burning city and struggling not to collapse among the suddenly crushing weight of the only person he had managed to save in the end, out of the hundreds of thousands he'd sworn to protect. No human should, no matter what they've been trained for. Nothing could prepare someone for that.
A lot has changed since then.
Jean's barely listening to the conversation at this point as he peers around the loft. It's still dusty in the corners, housing crates and straw, but he pays it no mind. It's the smell of horses, the memory that comes with it in his mind. Of his home city, of the military stables. Of better times.
He's quiet as he finds a propped hatch to the roof, and slips out. And sits.]
A soldier also shouldn't have to claw his way out of the hell, choking and sputtering on the fumes and ashes of a burning city and struggling not to collapse among the suddenly crushing weight of the only person he had managed to save in the end, out of the hundreds of thousands he'd sworn to protect. No human should, no matter what they've been trained for. Nothing could prepare someone for that.
A lot has changed since then.
Jean's barely listening to the conversation at this point as he peers around the loft. It's still dusty in the corners, housing crates and straw, but he pays it no mind. It's the smell of horses, the memory that comes with it in his mind. Of his home city, of the military stables. Of better times.
He's quiet as he finds a propped hatch to the roof, and slips out. And sits.]
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even with the unshakable gnaw of his shot nerves it's a comfort to see sasha, to be able to thank her to her cheerful face for her and her families hospitality. she ties a handkerchief casing a handful of dandelions and the end of a loaf of bread to his belt loop for he and jean before they part. marco fails to see her sticking behind to make sure he actually can climb the ladder like he told her he'd be able to, chewing anxiously at her lip and cringing once when he nearly slips more than once. despite the struggle, he manages, same as he's done so far in his journey from the city.
past the pile of thin sheets that have been stacked for them (sasha's father has promised mattresses to be delivered later, they just have to go get them), the dust and the straw, he looks for jean and finds a spot of light coming from the open hatch to his right that marco at first missed.
marco drops his hatchet and dirty overshirt to the side before he sticks his head out, smiling when he sees jean, though it's only been several minutes at most since he had last. ]
Hey, give me a hand getting out.
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Thanks.
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[Jean sits back down next to him, the impact softer than it should be. He's the lightest he's been in... well, since before he hit his growth spurt. Hopefully now he can finally gain some of that weight back.
He trusts Marco not to make note of it, but brings up a different topic anyway.]
Just wanted some fresh air, y'know?
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[ he was cooped up inside for a while himself, though jean is easily the last person to need to be reminded of as much. most of that time was a blur to him. marco starts fussing with the ties sasha left on the handkerchief gave to him, nails catching weakly on the small knots and slipping several times before it starts to cooperate. ]
I have breakfast, by the way. When I can get to it.
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Oh.
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[ there it goes. he manages to detach it without the whole thing falling open, unfolding the corners of it on his lap and collecting the few dandelions that try to scatter with his efforts as he does. ]
Oh.
[ pauses for a moment before offering an explanation: ] She didn't tell me about the bread. [ which is a pleasant surprise, one that certainly explains the size of the makeshift bag. hands it over to jean, starting to separate the flowers into even piles once he takes it. ] Here, rip this in half.
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Upon tearing it open with careful hands, the heady, sweet tang of dough and yeast hits his nose, and the salivating just worsens tenfold. Definitely fresh. Like baked this morning fresh. Not even soldier provisions were always this good.]
Hhhhholy shit. [Jean actually cracks a soft, wide grin, offering forth the piece he deems to have come out slightly larger.] Okay buddy, eat up. I don't think I could live with myself if a crumb of this goes to waste.
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Believe me, I won't waste a bite.
And these are yours. [ gestures down to the pile of fresh picked dandelions closer to jean, slightly larger than marcos own, though they're arranged to appear equal. he can't hold off much longer before taking the first bite of the bread. it's closer to a small nibble of the corner, cautious of being rid of it too soon, and is nothing shy of wonderful, leaving him grinning back at jean. ]
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Which, of course, he has little intent to keep for himself once he's had his fill. But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.]
Thankth- [Sorry. Mouth full of bread, ok. He tried.]
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he's entirely content to stay there eating in silence under the warming morning sun, tension falling from his shoulders with every bite, and stomach settling on full instead of teetering on the edge of enough for a change. ]
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Munch munch munch. Yeah. He already knows he could get used to this. Or at least, he will. Maybe. If the peace and calm and comfort of it all stops feeling so surreal and dreamlike.
He kind of hopes it doesn't.]
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[ leans into jeans side, a little, heavier than intended but with a full stomach has come the reminder that he is in fact quite tired. ]
Really nice.
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[He doesn't even think twice before tilting his head to the side as well, pressing close, and closing his eyes.]
Yeah...
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[ laughs a little, despite the fact that it's entirely true, and starts to fold the remainder of their food lightly into the handkerchief still on his lap, so they dont roll off without his notice. ]
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It's a long, quiet moment until he speaks again.]
Do you think they'll put us to work today?
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I can't be sure. Do you think we should ask?
[ licks his lips as he thinks, gathering the crumbs he couldn't tell were hidden at the scarred corner of his mouth as he does. ]
Maybe we should wait until someone comes back with the mattresses. So we don't have to run around looking for a familiar face.