nexus_crossings | The Silence of the Storm

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event

The Silence of the Storm

Rations have been cut. Again. Everyone is on one bowl of watery soup a day. Sometimes with crackers, sometimes not. Most people are too tired and weak to do much more than sit around and talk, and nobody discourages them in the slightest. Work has to be rotated constantly as people weaken quickly, but the fires still need to burn, people still need to guard the cooks and rations, and the sick still need to be tended to. Soon the hardest job is keeping up morale while the big expedition comes back. All the gods and heavens of the multiverse help them if they don’t come back with supplies, and soon.

The boundaries have tightened to an almost suffocatingly small space. It doesn’t take much to imagine where they will be by the end of Winter, which at least makes planning a little easier. People are already relocating to deeper in the Plaza. Unfortunately it means that those who have enough energy to often end up fighting with their neighbours, as the close quarters tests everyone’s patience. There are a few spaces carved out for like minded people to shelter from the dreary situation. Mechanics and those like them have set up a nice little place close to the Crossroads Café, and a break area for those helping the sick is sheltered in a room behind the injured and ill. Zandros moves from groups to individuals, looking for help in creating some form of morale boosting display that will adhere to Isidor's instructions. People are surviving in whatever ways they can, but it's reaching breaking point.

((It's the Final Event Post, everyone! OOC Post is here! This is for those stuck at the hub while the Main Expedition is going on. There will be a second part to this post for the Return of the Expedition. In the meantime, have fun!))

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There's precious little to smile about these days. Steve's honestly a bit surprised his face still knows how to make that expression when he catches the quirk of his own lips to mirror the smile Cricket's giving him. The despondent cloud that's been hanging over him for the last several days doesn't weigh quite so heavily over him now as Steve takes the time Cricket spends determinedly walking over to the stove getting himself upright and as coherent as possible.

It doesn't take long for the smell to filter through the infirmary. Any spot of humidity in the otherwise cold dry air is a blessing.

"Yeah. I can imagine." His gaze shifts over to the cot where the angel Nike is sprawled out with a damp cloth over her forehead passed out from exhaustion. Even their healers are bedridden by now, too worn out to be much good. That there's folks still trying to raise morale surprises him but in a very good way.

"Are they? That's impressive. Have you seen any yet?"

Edited 2019-03-14 15:39 (UTC)

Cricket breathes in the scent of boiling pine needles and sighs. Might not be too much longer before there isn't even any of this left. He thinks he's probably getting more out of it than most other people, since it makes him remember his younger days with Aunt Winnie, but he's never going to be ashamed of doing everything he could to help keep people alive.

"It's a'ight, though," he says softly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the other sleepers. "It's almost over. You can kinda feel these things sometimes. We're about to turn a corner one way or th'other."

That's terribly fatalistic, but he seems to mean it as reassurance. Pale and bright-eyed, he nods and smiles wider at Steve. "You remember the cartoons they used to show before movies? Black and white and all singing and dancing? There's a fella out there who looks like that, like he's a living cartoon. His name's Bendy. He seems nice."

"Built a snowman with him, too. Kind of a little one, 'cause I ran out of steam, but still."

Nothing to feel ashamed about. Everyone's doing their part and Cricket's no exception. His life experience is something everyone who interacts with him is benefiting from right now. Steve's just the most recent count among them all.

"I suppose that's a way to look at it." Accepting things for what they are isn't something Steve's ever been good at except when it comes to his own personal safety in the line of duty. He's more than aware of the hypocrisy there but never been willing to do much about it. Even he only has so much fight left in him though. Little enough that it takes him a moment before he remembers what he's supposed to say in a situation like this. "We'll pull through though. Folks here, they're not too good at giving up."

It's probably for the best that the subject moves on though. Cricket's smile has so much more to it when he recounts the cartoonish person (creature?) he spent time with, even built a snowman with. As though the weather outside was still something to be enjoyed. It sends splintering cracks into the hardened numb facade he's adopted to help get him through his tasks the last several weeks.

"Had he ever done that before? I bet he was over the moon about it."

Cricket is likely more capable of accepting his own limitations than Steve ever was, for whatever reason. He's not unwilling to fight, but he's far more the quiet, patient, forbearing type. Inclined to weather a storm rather than take it on head-to-head. Although the truth is, he doesn't have much left in him, either. The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but it's still bad, he's still getting weaker.

But there's one thing they have in common. They're both ready to wring the last drop of functionality they can muster out of themselves, rather than rest.

"I think he had, but it had been a while. He was stuck in some kind of abandoned studio for years, he said. We both had fun. I ain't made a snowman since I was twelve or so, I think."

"Figured as long as the snow ain't goin' anywhere, might as well act like it's fun, right?"

"It might not have...meant much, to you. But it probably made quite an impression on him."

Especially if it sounds like the guy was stuck somewhere alone for such a long time. Steve knows how that whole song and dance goes better than he'd like to. It can really mess with a guy's head. Or not-head if he's some kind of living cartoon. Honestly that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to Steve but at this point he's too tired to question it much.

"You're a pretty good friend to folks you meet. You...know that?"

"It reminded me of playin' in the snow with my best friend when I was little. That was nice." It definitely meant something.

Pine needles take a little while to brew, but Cricket judges what he's got now is strong enough to drink. He pours the tea into two cups, then refills the water in the pot for a second run at brewing. If no one else is bold enough to chew on the overcooked needles after, he sure will.

Bringing one of the cups to Steve, he finds a seat close by him. He's blushing at the compliment, smile deepening. "It's this place," he says. "I think. I didn't have but so many friends growin' up. Mostly just Jack Bondurant and his brothers. But I got here and Harley took me in, and I just keep meeting people, and so many of 'em are great. Ain't hard to make friends here."

He sips his tea. "Hard times like this, you can either turn your back on people or reach out to 'em, and sometimes the end result's the same either way but I reckon if I didn't try I'd just be lonely. Ain't planning on dyin' this winter, but if I did, I wouldn't regret a thing."

"Making friends is easy, here. It's keeping them that's....not always so simple."

Nothing like this winter has ever befallen the Nexus before but they haven't been without their hardships or struggles in the past. People Steve considers himself to be close with don't always make the choices he does. Sometimes, he's even ended up fighting his friends. Something he's getting more and more unfortunately used to between this place and back at home. Steve's just held on to the hope that once everything is over folks can reconcile.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Can't, even. It is what it is.

Steve murmurs a thanks for the tea and takes a few seconds to just warm his hands by the cup in his hands. He blows on the surface of the liquid a few times before changing a sip. Steve's never had pine needle tea before but it reminds him rather fondly of breakfast on the front lines with the Commandos. Before the train, always before the train do the Good Memories sit.

"That's the best way to be, I think." Steve's words are slow over the top of his cup. Every one weighted and measured. "It's...not easy getting the work done, these days. But folks are counting on me to do my part." Steve won't complain about how weak he is. How much it hurts when he's awake. Everyone's in the same boat and bellyaching about it won't do any good. Besides, it must be obvious that he's not well. Even he's not delirious enough to think he's selling being Fine.

"I guess people come and go," Cricket says thoughtfully, missing Steve's point. "When they don't have to live here. And maybe they'll end up going and not coming back sometimes, and you won't know why."

He's never had to be at odds with a friend. It would take a lot to push him to fight one, at least in any sense beyond a fraternal tussle.

He looks at Steve for a long moment, and once again they're mirrors; this time Cricket can see it, recognizing how much pain the other man is in right now, how close he is to collapse, and how badly that sits with a man like this. He moves a little closer to Steve to press their shoulders together for warmth. "Hope you don't mind; it's cold in here. I'm cold."

"I don't know if you met my friend Forrest Bondurant yet. He's been to the Nexus a couple times. Found his way here from the same world I come from. He's not as tall as you but he's a big guy. Built kinda like a bear."

He flashes Steve a smile. "Kinda growls like one, too."

"Anyway, he got his throat cut, last winter. Ear to ear. There was a crooked State's Attorney, and he had a crooked Marshal workin' for him, and the Marshal went and hired some city thugs to come and attack him. Long story."

"He survived, though. Musta been on the ground for almost an hour before Miss Maggie came along and was able to get him to the hospital. If it hadn't been so cold, he'd have bled out and died right there."

"It was strange, seein' him laid up after that. Pale as a ghost, throat all sewn up with black thread. Couldn't walk for more'n a week since he lost so much blood. And Forrest, he was always like the mountain. Big, solid, quiet, strong, and everyone around him leaned on him, because he could take it, and wanted to. Hell, around town they used to say the Bondurants are near-invincible. All three of 'em, but Forrest's the one everyone thinks about when they say it."

"But no one's invincible. And it ain't right for one person to have to be the strongest one all the time. Especially if somethin' hits 'em hard."

"Ain't trying to tell you to stop what you're doin', or even dial it back, 'cause that's not my place. But you seem like you're bleedin' out, and if you come to a point you can't do no more, then just remember you don't always have to be the strongest one. We need you alive."

He peers up at him warily, hoping he hasn't overstepped, but prepared to stand by his analysis. "Does that make any sense?"

There's a moment's surprise when Cricket pushes himself in close to Steve but the reasoning makes sense. He lets go of the cup with one hand, raising his arm so Cricket can tuck in next to him and makes no mention of it once it's done. If he can be of help, any way, he's glad to do it. There's an irony here that Cricket is the stronger of the two of them right now, one Steve doesn't miss.

He hadn't given Cricket enough credit back when his home had been robbed. For as much as Steve tries not to underestimate others he'd been blinded by worry of the traumas Cricket was facing. But here they are so much later in the season and Cricket's still stoically pressing on and helping others every limping step of the way.

"I..haven't met your friend." He says quietly before Steve turns his attention back to the pine needle tea while Cricket talks. But this Forrest, he sounds like someone people might compare Steve to (and isn't that a hoot considering his upbringing). And Cricket's right. Steve isn't literally bleeding out, but he's caught in an agonizing spiral of starvation and fatigue. Plagued by memories of falling into that deadlike sleep under the ice. Too weak to help much at all. How long until he's completely bedridden?

Not long. He should be now, he knows. But not even Steve can ignore his own stubborn streak.

"It...it does. I'm not, well. Hardly anyone here's normal, feels like. Usually it lets me do more. Help more." e's bitter when he looks down at the last sip of his tea. "Not this time. Ain't felt this helpless in a long, long time. Don't miss it, either."

Granted, partly he thinks Steve might be cold, too, and almost definitely needs some sympathy. He's guessing sympathy isn't something he takes easily, though. Cricket's sometimes on the fence about that, himself. Something as delicate as the tone of voice can dictate whether he bristles or smiles.

Steve's worry was legit. There was undoubtedly a moment where Cricket was dissociating, and without some kind of support he could have easily been left in a bad way. But he's a mountain kid, raised under the thumb of nature, and having death close by is less shocking to him than it might be to many others.

That, and ironically, his talk with Reynard was stabilizing.

He smiles a little at the thought of Forrest, picturing him and Steve meeting. They might get along all right, he thinks. Or maybe Steve and Howard. Howard was a soldier, but Howard ain't exactly come back from the war yet, himself. His point is more or less what Steve's thinking, though: Forrest and Steve both cast long shadows, stolid and tough and reliable, and a lot of people think they're both invincible.

"You mean to tell me most men can't pick up two other fellas and walk through knee-high snow like it's nothing? I had no idea." His tone is dry, but if Steve looks at him, he's smiling gently.

"I always try to tell myself there's something halfway between helpless and invincible. You know? Because I ain't never gonna be runnin' no marathons, and I sure as hell couldn't get into the army if I paid someone, but I can fix an engine, and I can work my stills and cut pine branches, and if someone needs me to, I can throw a punch or shoot a gun."

"The world's a big place. In the end, I reckon we're all pretty small, and that's why we need a lot of us standing together."

"I...forgot about that part, I guess."

It didn't even cross Steve's mind at the time. He's so used to it being the norm for him after so many years. It feels like sometimes there's only two sets of normal in the world to him. Being so weak that he hurts constantly like he feels now, or being Captain America.

"You're right." It's never just one man who wins a war, even if he makes a hell of a difference. People are remarkably strong when they work together. Steve wishes he didn't sound so spent to say it. "But I am pretty helpless...right now. Guess it's your turn to carry me."

He doesn't have to like it. All Steve needs to do is survive.

Cricket's smile widens, warm and reassuring. "Well, sir, it's the least I can do to try, after what you did to help me."

"But if we're lucky, we won't have much longer to hurt like this." He sobers a little. "And we can rest and get ourselves back to normal, and go back to doing the things we'd rather be doin'."

"You want me to top up your tea? I ain't goin' back out for a while, either way. Not unless pipes freeze or something happens so it's all hands on deck." He gets up slowly, braces creaking, and it seems like he needs a second to get his balance, but he offers to take Steve's cup. "Where'd you come from, if you don't mind my askin'? I know it's you on the message that plays in the Plaza when there's electricity and whatnot...but that's not really you, you. Not bein' yourself."

"I...promise I mean that metaphorically. Don't worry."

It hurts to laugh, but Steve wheezes one out at his own joke along with a slightly crooked smile. It's stunted from pain but no less sincere. Of course, if he looked like how he should, even Cricket probably could actually pick him up. It's a thought that makes this whole thing a bit funnier to Steve though he doesn't have the energy to try and explain right now.

"Sure, if there's any left." He'd like it more to warm his hands than to drink at least for the moment. It won't go to waste though. Sarah Rogers didn't raise her son to be that way even if the situation wasn't so dire for them all.

"You'll...laugh, probably." The tea warms his hands and drives back the memories of being frozen alive just a little bit. Makes it easier for him to breathe. "Brooklyn. It was 1941 when I first stumbled into th'Nexus. In my time, that is. The Nexus of course don't have to follow those rules."

Cricket grins at him. "My legs ain't that great for it, but my arms're stronger than they look. I might be able to get you across the room if I had to."

Not right now he wouldn't, not really, but maybe if he were fed up properly. He has no way of knowing that Steve used to be more portable, but clearly there's something funny about this train of thought, and they both need the laugh. He crosses the room slowly with the cups and refills them with a pensive hum and a sigh. When he brings them back, there are a few limp slivers of needles floating in the top. The taste won't be as strong this time, but a bit sweeter.

"Not sure what's funny about Brooklyn, but then I ain't been there." He sits again, watching Steve with an open, attentive expression. "1941, really? You were less'n a decade ahead of me, then. It was 1932 when I died and landed here."

"--I mean, I'm guessing you didn't die, but. You know what I mean. When were you born? I was born in 1912. End of June."

"I got a lot of chuckles during the war when it came out I was a city boy. I got real used to it, but this sort of almost camping never did come easy for me."

After a long time having to get used to it Steve can manage much more readily than he used to be able to but it still strikes him as a little bit funny, of only for nostalgic reasons. Though...Cricket's next question catches Steve a bit offguard. He's not used to not being the oldest human in the room these days.

"1918, actually. You'd be quite a bit older than me if we were from the same place."

"Well...I reckon I understand that, but it ain't entirely fair. We all gotta come from somewhere, and if we all came from the same spot, it'd be way too damn crowded. Forrest always says cities ain't healthy for anyone, but I never been anywhere bigger than Rocky Mount so I wouldn't know."

Also, let's be honest, Forrest is biased. As are most of the people in Franklin County. God only knows what they'd make of Steve if he wandered in there.

He laughs softly and grins at the revelation. "Only a few years. Old enough to be your big brother, maybe."

Which is pretty funny considering their relative physical sizes right now.

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The Silence of the Storm

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