faderift | Life in Camp Shady Fuckers

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Life in Camp Shady Fuckers

WHO: Everyone living in or visiting the Warden camp
WHAT: Just some low-key action-spammy stuff for a bunch of sketchy losers who got tossed into the camp for sketchy losers. And the people who come to hang out because sketchy losers are the coolest losers.
WHEN: Vaguely stretching around Cloudreach?? Nothing is set in stone, time is an illusion
WHERE: ~~Camp Shady Fuckers~~ The Warden camp
NOTES: Just throw whatever warnings necessary in the heads of your threads

Just throw opens or whatever up this is a low-key general mingly kinda thing for hanging out and shouting at each other. Feel free to interrupt other threads or whatever and idk man this is basically like a network post but in real life.

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The tent flap is thrown open, and Bethany bursts through, letting out a gasp of surprise before she goes to throw herself at Herc with a hug, "You're alive!"

-- and stops at the look of his arm and himself in general. "Right, okay, we need to get you cleaned up and healed up ... and Max is following one of the others about but I'm sure he'll come as soon as you call him and Oh Maker, Herc!"

She wipes her eyes, smiling with faint tears. "What can I help you with? Right now, anything you want?"

That is a lot of talking at once, for where Herc is at right now. He listened to a fair few rambles from the coach driver on way up from the Western Approach, tuned out most of it. He's been tuning out a lot, the past few weeks, with the song in his head feeling louder and the horrors playing out in front of him.

"Just water," he says, honestly, and his effort to return the hug is slow and hindered by injury and exhaustion. "Somewhere to sit."

News would have to come later, it was inevitable, but he'll take water for now.

"Right! Right, hold on..."

She is out of the tent in a flash, running across the camp to grab a bucket of water with a tin cup, leaving those with him while she runs back to the supply tent to get one of the cots and carries that with her to his tent to put down so he can sit and drink.

Then she holds up one finger, runs back out to her tent and grabs a warm knitted blanket, which she wraps around him because he looks like hell.

She breaths out, relief over her face, but holding her tongue. She knows she has been overwhelming and she just wants to make sure he's really here.

Well. That was-- a lot.

He stands there, mute, bucket of water between his feet, and he makes a sound through gritted teeth as he crouches to get the water, dipping in the cup and sipping slowly, barely straightened back up by the time she barrels back in with a cot. The blanket around his shoulders is nice, though.

After a quiet moment, another sip of water, he manages a quietly gravelly, "Thanks." His fingers curl into the blanket to keep it in place, and he's not quite sure where to start. "How've you been?"

Bethany opens her mouth, then closes it, before she sighs softly and looks at her hands.

"I won't lie. I haven't been good ... but I am better for you being with us here again. I was so scared for you - that we would be ... too late."

Herc offers a slight smile, at that, more intended for reassurance than anything like actual mirth, and he slowly brings his hand up to brace it against one of her shoulders, never mind the tension and the stiffness that's limiting his movements.

"If I hadn't come back, it would've been all right," he starts, and there's a gravity in his tone. "I made my choice to cover the others." Sacrifice is our way.

Maybe it's not the most comforting thing to say. "Want to talk about something that isn't business?"

She watches how he moves - stiff with pain, and gently chides herself. She knows enough healing magic to be a battlefield medic, so he'll have to see Anders for the worst of it. However ...

A faint snort as she muttered, going through the small satchel at her hip, "Yes, I know the motto. I'd prefer if your sacrifices came with less death, thank you."

She took up his tin cup, and then a small bottle of restorative potion, pouring it within, before handing it back to him. "This should help with the pain. And ... only if you're up to it."

Let's see, finding something amusing, ah-hah. "You must promise never to tell Marian when we see her again - but Anders taught me to flirt."

Edited 2016-04-16 13:36 (UTC)

He quirks his brow a bit, at that. Normally he might joke, but now he's worn a little thing. "What, you think we can save the world by sacrificing sugar and butter?" Not bitter, nor unkind, but a little flat. Time wears on and on, and the song in his head feels louder, and he's wondering more and more if it's his actual calling and not some bullshit from Corypheus.

Even so, he accepts the motion and twists off the lid, looking at it for a moment and resigning himself to the unpleasant flavour before he tips it back and swallows it down.

If you see her again, but there's no way he's saying that to Bethany. Not after Chuck. "He taught you to flirt."
It should be a question, probably. "Interesting lesson plan, I'd bet."

She looked over at him, her expression wry about the edges. She's taken ... a lot of hits lately so she is not as bright as she normally would be, but she manages a quiet smile. "If I could save the world with little cakes, I would. Alas, all I have is magic."

She smiled a little more. "Mmm. Mostly - don't try too hard, and don't flirt with jackasses. Very useful information."

"I wouldn't say no to that plan," he admits, and finally there's a slight smile, though it's more an effort to be kinder for Bethany than something that makes it to his eyes. "Though I might save 'em all for myself."

Herc shakes his head. "Sounds like something you'd have known already."

"Well, you're going to get little cakes now, whether you like it or not." She smiled a bit more warmly. "I'll make enough."

"Yes, but ... I don't think I really understood that just because I haven't lost my virginity that I'm not worth more than some slick... person with a line."

"Don't think I won't hold you to that," and maybe there's a bit more amusement in it, easing back into old form.

Ah. Maker's breath, he was not prepared for the conversation to take that turn, and it makes him feel-- tired. And a little guilty for that tiredness too, because the real world keeps turning and everyone has their problems, but he's never been exceptionally good at fatherly talks and this feels like it should turn into one.

"Well," he starts, with a quiet breath, "pretty sure at least half a camp've wardens'd make their lives difficult if anyone looked at you wrong."

It's not helpful, it's not very encouraging, he suspects, and his exhale is a little defeated.

"Yes, I figured you might." She smiled at him, easily, before she gave him a thoughtful look. Then her mouth curled up at the edges.

"That would be half the problem. I've been so afraid that someone would go after someone I liked for looking at me wrong - that I've never looked back. Never tried to trust myself to make the right decisions, when it comes to men. Anders taught me that I do have the right instincts, that I can trust myself. That ... that has been more valuable than anything else."

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