this au is horrible

[bluntality]

[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.]

Comments

[hatcheting]

[ marco hasn't slept since some time before they arrived to the village early, early that morning, let in by familiar faces. he's sore and in need of rest, but is too on edge as though he still needs to remain on the look out even within the well secured walls. he can't yet (and may never) shake the feeling that no matter how safe it seems, something could still go wrong within. he had found out as much was possible the hard way several weeks back, and at a cost.

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.