drinking mystery booze may be unwise.

[iron_stomach]

Who: Serph, Heat, Jayce .. possibly eventually Secunit and or John and or Jack. TBD.
What: Maybe apologies. eventually, getting drunk.
Where: Convoy!
When: Late evening, after the shield is fixed
Warnings: May contain ANY of the following: Alcohol, drinking, adult themes, canon typical violence, carnivory, mention of cannibalism, secunit judging everyone organic, Great Old Ones, monsters and shenanigans.



The heavy rain and thunderstorms of the day have tapered off to a thick mist behind the wall of the convoy's newly repaired shield. It does nothing to mute the chorus of strange frogs and insects out in the wet and murk, their warped biologies and instincts not abating the one springtime party they all seem to throw.

With the rain past it's a struggle to get a low campfire going, not because it's necessary but because it's strangely relaxing to be able to lean against one vehicle's giant tire, low flames flickering in their little circle of rocks driving back some of the damp, and listen to the noise going on out in the water.

The small fire is an ongoing, silent invitation. Most people might be asleep, but there was always someone coming and going at night. Sure, dinner might be gone, bones charring gradually black amidst the flames, but there'd be fire if someone wanted to reheat another meal without hunting the entire kitchen up at this hour.

Most of his armor is for the moment missing, stripped just to the black undersuit, foraged orange gloves, shoes and nothing else; the evening's warm enough for more to not be necessary, and with the shield up, what feral demon was going to attack successfully? After the frenetic work of the past while, it's ... almost peaceful. People kept telling Heat this isn't Nirvana. The only thing that made it not so to him was his absent comrades.

Comments

[bufudine]

The rain had been nostalgic.

Junkyard rain was nothing like this, but to feel the droplets of water pelting his face again puts him in a wistful mood. Despite everything, he does have some fond memories of the place... especially considering how quiet the Convoy is in comparison to Muladhara after everyone slowly awoke to their emotions.

But his wings unfortunately aren't waterproof, so once the bad weather fades the fire is a welcome source of heat to help dry his feathers. When Serph quietly slips into an empty spot by Heat's fire, he folds his wings forward to dry his pinions, the angle completely unnatural.

To Serph, this kind of peaceful quiet is the sort of thing they would have even more of in Nirvana. If the others were here, there would be undoubtedly even more chatter and laughter. He doesn't have anything to say, content to absorb the atmosphere.

[hexrot]

[ rain dampens scent, but jayce can't exactly say good things about the wetness itself. it limits his mobility doesn't make gathering wood for coal an easier task; wet logs meant difficulty catching. that meant more delays. even storing them within the convoy itself wouldn't save it from the dew sitting in the air. over all, it's a time.

eventually, the parts are found. the generator is repaired, and the shields are back up. they could rest, and jayce feels like he could use one. it sounds like an occasion to bring out the glass bottles of whiskey he'd found at the gas station. two of them; the first, meant to be shared with viktor alone, hoping to tast the theory that he could still somehow get hiw partner to drink, and see him drunk for a night if he were lucky enough. the second glass— he didn't know. turns out, it would serve as a peace offering, whenn the time was right.

same with john, jayce couldn't allow himself to walk the fine thread of grudges within a tightly nit convoy. they all needed each other. they needed a team, with working cogs, not irritable monsters at each others throats. they have enough of those around without lifting their hands to add to the bunch.

a familiar clo-closh of a limp and hooves in sodden grass approaches serph's truck; before long it's the antlers that show. earlier than that, perhaps his strange odor of radioactive rot wafts along with the humid crispness of earth. when jayce comes in range of the two, he tries not to pause; he was expecting heat, there. just had to push through it, the neck of the bottle in one grip, a long, sturdy stick in his other as a temporary cane stand-in. ]

Did it catch quick enough?

[ the fire, he means. just because he doesn't mean it doesn't mean he doesn't welcome warmth. he has some bad memories of the ravine, struggling to get a fire to burn in dampness still makes his skin prick. ]

[iron_stomach]

[The sounds of an occupied Convoy is different from the sound of a busy tribe on their home turf, but at least it's ... something. If he lets his mind wander long enough, he finds himself still listening for the occasional patrol, the murmur of familiar voices, but it's only the new. New isn't bad, it's just not what he wants.

Interrupting the quiet when Serph turns up is only a brief mutter of "Wet feathers stink" before lapsing back into something like contented silence. Serph would dry out, the smell would fade, and there's worse ways to spend an evening. It's hardly a private party, so when there's the dragging clop of a certain decaying stag, red eyes slit back open to watch but Heat doesn't bother to actually move though the immediate impulse is there to put himself between Jayce and his Leader. He had his orders, whether or not he liked them.

Jayce was not to be eaten. So be it.]

There was some drier stuff under the big rigs. Dug it out.

[Once they caught and were hot enough, the wetter stuff still burned just fine. It would never have been a problem if he still had access to his magic. What little he'd had.

It is with obvious begrudging that the next offer is made; Heat is NOT good at playing nice with people on the best of days, with people he actually liked.]

If you're hungry, there's still food. Not cooked.

[Packed up neatly so it won't rot, but maybe rotten wouldn't matter to something.. also rotten.]

[hexrot]

[ he knew starvation untill it was burned into his memory bank. jayce isn't one to reject food nowadays, even though he hesitates for just a brief moment; the rotting pieces of velvet tainted with arcane fractals wave off his antlers as he finally settles on a single nod, joining them to take a seat, although it takes him a few moments to actually lower himself down and stretch his bad leg out. judging by his complexion, between the warm dance of a nearby fire and the clouded moonlight above, his lips are evidently colored; the opaque sheet usually over his eyes has been cleared with a lively shimmer. he wasn't starving. he's recently fed, even. anywhere within the last 8 hours. ]

Can't say it's for thirst, [ he lifts the bottle briefly, and the amber contents within slosh back and forth against its containment, ] but it's something.

[ handing it to serph first, his gaze glides between both of the men to add: ]

For you guys.

[bufudine]

Serph readily accepts the gift from Jayce. But when he inspects it more closely, his brows furrow in consternation. It has a lot of similarities to the bottle of liquid that Roland had offered Argilla; dark, amber brown glass and a faded label that renders the contents a mystery. He also remembers Argilla being enamoured with the liquid's pretty colour as she swirled her glass, but coughing and sputtering the moment she took a sip.

Roland had seemed fine. If anything, the liquid seemed to have an effect on his mood as he talked with them that first time.

What this is prickles uncomfortably at the back of his mind. Contrary to his past observations, there's a part of him that has has pleasant associations with this kind of bottle.

A useful tool.
(But for what?)

Carefully, he asks, "What is this?"

[iron_stomach]

[He made the offer, he's bound to follow through. It wasn't hard to kill more than he needed to devour so the excess could be used for someone else, but saving a slaughtered target for later was strange, sat uncomfortably no matter how much sense it made. It did mean in the absence of Sera, the risks of some ignorant rookie going too long without devouring wasn't as likely.

He'd been told that didn't happen here, but Heat wasn't counting on that being reality. As Jayce settles down and offers Serph a bottle that's both familiar and not, he drags himself back to his feet to re-locate something reasonably edible.

There's no immediate bad associations with whatever Serph's been handed. It's probably fine. Probably.]

Looks like engine oil.

[Light golden brown, liquid, a little thicker than water, an odd offering but maybe it's the best anyone could find for cleaning and maintenance for the sparse number of guns in the convoy. It's useful.

He'll be back in a minute. There's a box around here somewhere.]