bearbones ☾

The New World => The Badlands => Topic started by: MICHAEL. on January 18, 2019, 12:20:06 AM

Title: faced with an army of vipers and lions >> open ;; laundry day!
Post by: MICHAEL. on January 18, 2019, 12:20:06 AM
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, themes of violence

It was mid-morning, Mike could tell by the incessant chirping and clamoring of the birds, the general buzz of the city, and from the light streaming through his shuttered windows. He wasn't a morning person, perhaps once upon a time he might have been, but now he was disposed to drink into the early morning, and sleep until a bit after noon. Why he was awake right now, he wasn't sure, though his head pounded with a vengeance. It was the day after his actions regarding Gabe's bullies, and even he had to admit that he'd stepped out of line there, though the sound of bones cracking, and breaking was still quite satisfying.

He stretched in his lumpy bed, wincing at the pain that came from the bullet wound which Cat had reopened less than two hours after Mike had stitched it up in the first place. The good news was, that the skin around the sutures itched like fucking hell, which was a sure sign of healing, or maybe an infection. Mike definitely hoped for the former. As for his ribs, well, one was broken, the other bruised quite badly, and then his jaw, a lovely purple spot had shown up an hour or so after Cat's punishment.

In all, Mike did not look entirely great. But despite his lack of outward beauty, he had still managed to ingest enough alcohol to remedy his pain. Now though, with the effect of the alcohol worn off, and his head pounding enough it felt like his skull would crack, Mike regretted his decision. He knew when to stop drinking, knew the point of getting drunk, but sometimes it was just easier to disregard that, and drink anyways. It was his lack of control that really got to him, if he stopped drinking when he knew he should, then most of these problems would not arise, but if he didn't get drunk, then his mind would not shut up.

It was a difficult decision that Mike solved with throwing caution to the wind. The soldier sighed heavily and slowly sat up, his hand on his head, god, he felt like absolute shit right now. Part of him wanted to swear off ever drinking again, but he knew that, when the withdrawal symptoms came around, he'd cave in and fall into that rut once more. What was the point in setting himself up for failure? Mike didn't see any reason to do so, though he knew that sooner than later he'd have to quit drinking.

His head throbbed, pounding faster than his heart after physical activity. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but there was no chance that he'd be able to do so with his head in this condition. The easiest solution for him was to drink again, but that seemed counterproductive to Mike, and so, instead, he felt his way through the room, deciding to keep his eyes shut against the light streaming in from his shuttered windows. He was grabbing for his canteen, the one filled with water... which would probably be better for him than booze, not that he preferred water over booze.

At last he reached the water, taking a deep drink of the liquid, which spilled down his shirt carelessly, nope, that didn't look too good. He swore softly, chastising himself for the words spoken aloud in his head as they echoed back into his skull. God, was there nothing in there? He could have sworn there was a brain somewhere back there, but judging from the echo it was fucking empty. He groaned softly, painfully, and sat down in the only upright, not seriously damaged chair in his small shack. Yep, he was doing just peachy.

It took him about half an hour to brave going outside into the cold sunlight, he had decided to wash his laundry, and though he felt (and looked) like absolute shit, he had set his mind upon it, and was now heating water over an open fire. He had all his clothes (save a pair of battered shorts and a tank top (that had definitely seen better days) in a large tub, and he was just now pouring hot water into the mix with old flaked suds that he'd scrounged up. Splashes from the near boiling water landed on his face, chest, and arms, causing another oath to break from his lips, "Fuck!"

He then went about scrubbing this batch of laundry, he already had what bedsheets he used hanging from a long rope tied from one end of the house to a pole he'd stuck into the ground. The sheets and blankets fluttered in the cold wind,  dancing on the winter breeze. Mike shivered unhappily at the cold air brushing against his skin. This day could have definitely gone better. Luckily he was able to stand up and not feel like curling up into a tiny ball, though his head still pounded terribly, he was certain that it would not go away, even if he were to drink again, he had a sneaking suspicion that alcohol would just amplify his feelings of crappiness.

"What I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee." He muttered to himself, his arms red and aggravated from the hot water as he scrubbed away at his dirty clothing.
Title: Re: faced with an army of vipers and lions >> open ;; laundry day!
Post by: Iggy. on January 21, 2019, 11:28:36 AM
claire loves u!
claire loves u!

❖ text
It was the following day after Iggy decided to sail into a notorious cesspool of bad people. Albeit it had only been a day, Ignatius was neither impressed nor dulled by this place. It echoed the behaviors of a stereotypical bad person, but on an estranged spectrum it was also... civilized? No. Surely that wasn't the word to describe it.

The air itself had remained rather chilling and the blonde was pondering at updating his wardrobe. Heck, maybe fate would have that he could acquire a different tote among the markets of the city. Ignatius was also hungering for smokes still, especially after the lust was revitalized when seeing one up close after two weeks without one. The young man didn't want to seem like a thirsting beggar though, as the leader of all people pointed out in the meeting when speaking about his relative acceptance. He certainly wasn't offended, it was rather true but he was hoping that assumption would have been made later. Iggy was without anything of valuable trade, other than an empty gun that he wasn't keen on letting go. Mostly because it was his only weapon, currently useless without any ammo. There was the possibility of the three quarters filled lighter, he kept this greedily for two things and two things only.

Ignatius knew he was going to have to open himself up to more training on different kinds of weapons, the ones that were more easily accessible. He was superb with explosives and traps, yet as it without the materials to advocate to his mastery. He knew a little bit about knives and blades, but again he wouldn't mind a little more teaching. His hand to hand combat was almost non existent, there was no technique or form. It would be a sloppy free for all should he ever decide to fight in close quarters with another person, and it would be high probability that it ended in him eating a beating. Bats and sticks? To Iggy it seemed plainly that you were supposed to whack people with those kinds of instruments. Simple. Iggy was resourceful, in the other gangs he'd been privy to he was a decent contributor, but in the Badlands the game changes despite the same principle. The principle; the strongest were meant to survive- and they do, the weak are to be snuffed out- and in the Badlands, they surely were. The meeting gave much insight on this place, that it wasn't going to be a infestation of unwarranted violence. Not entirely, there were permissions required or if not then actions of consequence to be issued. Even so, right now, Iggy had to consider himself among the weakest of this place. That's how he felt so that he would be more inclined to learn. Learn to grow more and gather more skills and ultimately better himself and contribute to this gang.

But, there were many things to do besides just learning how to beat the shite out of people. He needed to gather more food, he needed more clothes, a new tote, he needed to figure out a place he was going to live in. He needed to force himself to socialize, even though he deplored the idea as he is a cautious, distrusting potato. All this thinking continued to fester while walking on the coast line, proving blind to the respectfully nice beach scene and the few small decrepit beach houses dotting the area he was soon entering. A hoarse, angry churned "Fuck" had disturbed the stillness of the day and halted Iggy's chaotic train of thoughts. That sounds somewhat familiar, but also sounds grumpy. I'd rather not attempt to deal with that. The adolescent was pushing to continue his own breezy trail a ways away from the area he'd thought would be uninhabited. Who would want to be here after all? It's shelters seemed below minimal conditions, and it was a ways from the more populated parts of the city. Iggy liked that trait of it, not a lot of people, but he'd assume the cons outweighed such pros.

He turned his head to take a glance at who had broken the windy air with that curse, his eyes found not only the individual but one he recognized. It was the very guy who'd been the first to greet his sorry butt. Also the guy who'd been puffing a cigarette and reminded Iggy of his vice. Ignatius was unclear about this man who'd he found mostly through the grapevine to be Mike or Michael. Nothing else was really offered to him info-wise other than that he'd caused a bit of trouble, and that that was a common occurrence. Especially with drinking. Well if I had that stuff, I wouldn't mind braving the chance to propose trade, but I don't, best to keep walking on, there isn't any reason to fool around with this man yet. And then he heard it, the opportunity presented to himself. At least that's what he'd suppose fate was doing.

Coffee. Iggy had coffee, not the instant shite, but grounds that would require paper filter and hot water. He didn't have the make-it-taste-better accessories; sugar and creamer. But he had coffee, and it was all the same to him. Ignatius was still a nervous mess but the guy was pulling in all his garbage to chance a cigarette he believed would help calm his mind. Plus this was certainly a way he could further force himself to conversate and get a little more knowledge on this man. Maybe he had more than just a pack of cigarettes to gain from. Ignatius intended to be nonchalant in both gait and posture as he approached the settlement. Trembling hands remained buried in the pockets of his pants and his lips expressionlessly defaulted in plump lines. The twin copper sights instead held hints of intent and false confidence as if they too were aiding in pushing Igantius' skittish self to commit to social task. When he came upon the burly and built man brazenly cleaning his laundry in a very traditional way, thoughts in the back of his mind were stirring up the idea of turning around and pretending he never decided upon this at all. The front of his head however was making the final call, Iggy wants a cigarette. Iggy is going to damn well try and get one. Chapped, dusty lips pressed in hesitation against one another and then parted to manage the start of his offer in question, "What would you give for a cup of coffee?"
Title: Re: faced with an army of vipers and lions >> open ;; laundry day!
Post by: MICHAEL. on February 05, 2019, 07:31:12 PM
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, themes of violence

It was difficult for him to do some of the strenuous bending, lifting, scrubbing, rinsing, wringing motions, fuck, it was painful to do it all, but clean laundry did not come by wishful thinking or magic. So, he had to do it himself. True, he could pawn the job off on someone else, but he found something satisfying in cleansing the bloodstains from his drab wardrobe, it was almost... relaxing.

Granted being singed by near boiling water wasn't a fun thing to happen, but it was better than doing nothing on this chilly, but clear day. Hell, he'd take laundry over a lot of things most of the time. Some men had a dislike for laundry, dishes, tasks that traditionally a woman was expected to do, but Mike found his own pleasure in doing these, cleaning, making sure everything was in tip top condition.

Having a clean house and clean clothing was a point of pride in him (on the days when he was sober enough to care). And right now, it seemed only logical to use the good weather to get some of his to do list done with. He was not unaware of Iggy's approach, though he chose to ignore the young man as he came nearer, perhaps in a vain hope that the boy would just walk on. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, waiting to see what he had come to talk about.

Usually, Mike wasn't all that keen on being interrupted when he was doing something. Whether that something be shooting a person, breaking bones, doing laundry, cooking, gardening, or fishing. It didn't matter he liked his peace and quiet. Scrunching his nose slightly at Iggy, he frowned for a few moments, looking at the boy skeptically. What kind of question was that? He hadn't even been talking to the lad, he hadn't supposed anyone was around to hear his swear, or the words that quickly followed it.

However, they had been heard, and he supposed he could answer Iggy's little question. "Not wring your prying little neck." He muttered under his breath, probably loud enough for Iggy to actually hear the threat, though he didn't mean much by it, if he had any desire to wring Iggy's neck they boy would probably know by now... but Mike didn't have any dislike for the kid, maybe a bit of skepticism at his greenness, but no animosity.

He shrugged, then sighed. "I don't know, if you had some maybe I could offer a trade." Mike replied, raising an eyebrow at the youth before turning back to his laundry and wringing a hoodie out vigorously, twisting the fabric tightly and squeezing it until most of the water had been wrung out. His muscles bulged during this motion, his eyes fixed on the shirt he was wringing out, no, it wasn't anyone's neck.

He had mostly been able to keep his rage and anger inwards these past few days since Cat's punishment of him, and he preferred to continue to do so, if only for self preservation reasons.
Title: Re: faced with an army of vipers and lions >> open ;; laundry day!
Post by: Iggy. on February 06, 2019, 09:26:47 PM
claire loves u!
claire loves u!

❖ info.
The bulky man still appeared to Iggy as some kind of wild animal only pretending to be tame, somewhat on a leash given he wasn't the leader, but also not a leash that could be trusted as taut enough to restrain this man, Mike. A string of a terrifying sentence grumbled by him didn't help to rebuttal Iggy's assumption. Was he prying? Perhaps. However that even accompanied by a slew of fright did not outweigh the yearning for cigarette which his body so craved. This desire alone was able to have his voice remain steady and for the most part composed.

I don't know, maybe if you had some I could offer a trade. Yes, yes, that's exactly what I want. He didn't move like the addict he was, but proceeded to remove his irritating tote and fish around it's contents for the bag of ground coffee. A hand grasped the top of the familiar bag and lifted it out and set it down on the earth a distance aways from the tub that held Mike's clothes and hot water. He nodded to the bag and then to Mike, "That work for you?"