[PRP] Float On (Wash/Kostya)

[Ravvlet]

Sometimes, Wash found the best way to leaven his mood was hard labor. This was especially true of today, and so he made his way carefully into the small town just outside of headquarters with a mind to find some work. Things were both complicated and not - he felt as if he was somehow trapped between past and present, in a timeline that allowed little consideration for the future.

He was armed in nothing but a old, torn t-shirt and similarly worn jeans, having left the large and obnoxiously white coat at home - he was already lazy about laundry, and he was fairly certain the island didn't have a dry cleaner.

He flexed his large hands, rolling his shoulders and peering into the horizon. Several of the full hunters had chosen to make their homes out here, to reclaim territory once lost to the shadows.  

[its me debz]

Kostya felt much the same as Wash: after that catastrophic mission, he needed to regain a grasp of who he was. Efficiency was at the heart of self-improvement and reflection, which meant that he threw himself more into working on the Bunker than ever.

A pair of speakers were propped up on a chair next to a gigantic pit, a phone plugged into then. Electronic music blared out of them at a loud but not earth-shaking decibel: enough to hear over the digging, and maybe a little bit more. The pit itself was nestled between a house with a tall privacy fence and a lot surrounded by brick walls that were equally as tall. It was set to be a lake, and while the digging was almost done, the size of it dictated that Kostya had quite a bit of digging left for him.

And so he dug: in a dirt-stained wifebeater, worn out camo pants, and sturdy but well-used combat boots, Kostya dug into the soft earth and flung the dirt over his shoulder, landing on a tarp outside the pit.

ravvlet

 

[Ravvlet]

lurks beneath

Wash meandered down lanes randomly, most lots featuring houses in various states of renovation. It was quiet, and - if he allowed himself to forget, just for a second - almost... normal. Like talking a stroll back home.

He started to feel homesick, but banished it - he could not be that man, not anymore, not after what had come of so much sadness and brooding and internalizing. He chose instead to focus on the sounds, the smells; the sights.The feel of pavement under his boots, a breeze chasing its way between the little manses; a breath of life on the otherwise static island. The schoolhouse was somewhere near here, he thought. He wondered how they had once filled it.

Somewhere nearby, the tinny sound of music issued softly, echoing off fences and walls so that its source was hard to identify. He moved closer to investigate, and nearly jumped out his own socks as a shovelful of dirt came flying out of what, from a distance, had appeared to be well kept lawn.

Upon closer inspection Wash found that between a wall of brick and a tall fence a pit was being excavated. He'd spent far too much time under what passed in Deus as normalcy and had to dismiss the immediate assumption that this was to be some kind of mass grave.

Maybe, er, they were installing a sprinkler system.

"Want some help?" He called, loud enough to be heard over the music but not quite yelling.  

[its me debz]

Kostya pulled back, wiping dirt from his forehead with the back of his hand, which only served to leave another streak in its place. He looked up at the man offering help, blinking slowly before nodding once. Abandoning his shovel, Kostya pulled himself up and out of the pit, wiping dirt off his gloves and onto his pants.

"Greetings," he said, that monotone voice of his in full swing, an equally blank look on his face. "Help vould be much appreciate. Vun moment." He disappeared into the brick walls through a heavy door propped open with a cinderblock, heading into his shed and emerging with a second shovel and a pair of work gloves.

"My name is Kostya. Am digging for a lake."

ravvlet

 

[Ravvlet]

lurks beneath

A lake. See? Perfectly reasonable explanation. It would be, well. I mean, yes, the accent, but it would be completely unfair to make any assumptions re: massive piles of hidden bodies simply because of their assumed ethnicity.

It was admirable that he had all his own tools though - and not just one, but two sets. It was almost as if he'd had experience digging unusually large holes before-

"Wash, Wash Becker," the moon hunter replied hastily, offering a hand. It was always good to be polite with potential mass murderers.  

[its me debz]

"Is a pity cannot put fish in vithout them becoming mutant," Kostya mused, unaware that Wash still, maybe sort of, thought he was the murderer he really was. He got back to work himself, steadily digging.

"I have not see you around much, but have been on much away mission myself."

Ravvlet

and this ******** too

 

[Ravvlet]

lurks beneath

"Yeah," Wash replied, resisting the urge to vaguely wave a hand in the air and instead ramming his shovel deep into the earth. "I was. Rainforest, or somethin'. Real tropical."

He paused, shoveling a bit before adding, "Hot as hell and way too many damn bugs."

Wash glanced around at the houses that seemed to have sprung up like weeds. "I see y'all have been busy on the homefront, though. It's real nice." Almost like... almost like they could have a real life, out here, instead of the chaotic vagary he'd become used to.

A place to call home.  

[its me debz]

Later, Kostya would look back on the simple life he'd made and miss it. But for now, there was nothing to miss: everything was in its right place. He was not yet reviled. It was all as it should be.

"Unpleasant," he remarked, "heat no good here too. Ever since fog clear, veather has been so far from vhat I prefer. Heat. Urgh."

Kostya nodded. "It is safer. Than it use to be. So, more are building...vell. Homes. Or making island a home."

Ravvlet

 

[Ravvlet]

lurks beneath

"Yeah, where I'm from it was always hot an' muggy. I didn't miss it," he added, but the wistful tones in his voice belied that.

"That's really...nice." Wash sighed, pausing to lean on his shovel and take in their surroundings. "You think th' mutations would affect plants too? Could grow some magnolias or somethin'. They like heat an' rain." The smell of magnolias - with their huge, rubbery leaves and blossoms.

He tried to imagine it, a house all his own. Maybe with a sprawling porch, a tree swing, a few big elephant ears. And maybe, just maybe -

But no. She was different, now. He could build all the houses in the world, but they'd be lonely. There were no white picket fences in the world that could bring back what he really wanted. It would be like trying to cage a tiger. Maybe she was meant to be free, and broken, and wild. Maybe he needed to figure out what he needed, instead of trying to recreate the past.

He shook his head, and went back to digging.