NEWCOMER MINGLE
The ferry makes a soft landing against the jetty as it has done every few days throughout summer. Aina the ferry captain, usually wearing the proud orange short sleeve of the Kollo project, has bundled up in a black wind proof jacket. The island administrator Olivia has made no such compromises, determined to cling to summer as long as possible. She greets the newcomers with a smile, handing out brochures and showing them the way to the cabins.
Around noon there'll be a small get together to welcome the new arrivals. Nothing too fancy, though the blueberry pie that's being served is almost certainly homemade and made with blueberries picked from this very island. Coffee, tea and apple cider is also available.
A FARMERS LIFE FOR ME
It's harvesting season on Norrhamn and for once, plenty of free workers to go around... right? Those who venture up to the farm will find themselves roped into the activities by hook or by crook - doesn't matter if you got farming experience, there's always something you can do. Roofs need to be patched, hay needs to be baled, vegetables picked and fruit preserved for the long, cold, harsh, dark winter that's just around the corner.
Your work won't be in vain though. If you stick with it and stay until the evening, Einar and his family will treat their volunteers to a feast to show their appreciation. There will be such autumn delicacies as värmlandskorv, kroppkaka with salted pork and lingonberry jam, and fried salted herring with pickled cucumber and red onions on crisp bread. Stay really late and we're breaking into the good snaps, my friend. ]
[ At the very least, John Marston doesn't look too out of place at this little mingle. Oh, sure, he feels out of place, but then he's never been the type to go to gatherings, and certainly not the types where they hand out free food like it's nothing special. But maybe things are different here, and that's just something he's gonna have to get used to. It's fine. He's got a brochure. He can read. It's... totally fine. He'll mingle, or at least he'll try. ]
Hey there. [ He tips his hat a bit, brochure still in his other hand. He's trying very hard not to think of this as one his old 'missions.' ] You, uh... You like it here? It as nice as they say?
[ He pauses, then chuckles at himself. John Marston, you ask some weird questions. ]
Probably should've asked that before I got on some ferry to get here, huh?
[ i guess they didn't see each other on the ferry ride, which is just as well. they were both nervous or something. now, though, arthur has got a piece of homemade blueberry pie and some coffee and honestly just with those two things alone the day is really looking up. and this is good fucking pie. pearson can't make anything like this.
he almost chokes on his coffee when he hears that voice. no one else sounds like that.
arthur looks up at john from under the brim of his own hat. ]
[ John doesn't immediately think that it could be Arthur. He hears his voice, sure, but he's heard that voice plenty of time in his memories. Sometimes he sees glimpses, at the corner of his eye, but he knows. Arthur isn't there. He can't be. He puts down his brochure, looks over and --
And Arthur's there. John's words die in his throat. His jaw falls open, brain completely blank. ]
[ Yeah, John didn't really memorize the brochure or anything, he was looking for an out from his misery and he got it -- he did not expect this. ]
I -- but you... [ John looks down and back up, eyes going all over him. It's Arthur alright. Like he never got any older. Like it hasn't been nearly ten years since... ] Arthur, I...
[ John chokes on the words, disbelief weighing down what little he manages to say. How many times had he been to his grave? ]
[ well, shit. arthur can't quite meet his eyes when he does that. he knows john too well and if john is going to cry he's probably going to start crying too. it breaks his heart to know charles was the one who had to carry that burden. it breaks his heart seeing john this way, too. he was ready to go when he died. it's knowing that he left people behind that's the hard part.
he doesn't know what to say. it had clearly been awhile -- little john, all grown up.]
You, um, [ he pokes at his blueberry pie rather than looking up at john, and then finally does look at him because this is hard enough without him making it harder on john. he'd been looking out for the other man since the day he joined their gang. why stop now? ] You look good.
[ Yeah, John can't even be mad that Arthur is barely acknowledging the weight of all this -- the more John thinks about it, the harder it gets to rein in his emotions. He really doesn't want to start crying in front of a bunch of strangers who offered to let him vacation on an island. But those same people didn't really warn him that Arthur Morgan would be at that same island as well. ]
It's been... years, and you... you should be --
[ Well, he's not gonna say it, but all he can think of is Arthur in those final moments -- handing him his things, giving him his hat... John's swallows a sob by clearing his throat, shaking only slightly as he looks back at the brochure he's nearly crushed. ]
[ what skepticism he might have had looking over the brochure quickly melts away once he's eating the pie. brochure now tucked into his satchel for safekeeping, he's content to eat pie and sip coffee. a good, wholesome break. he hasn't had homemade pie like this basically ever. he's quiet, not particularly outgoing but he'll smile at least a little bit if anyone tries to catch his attention. he might look rough and tumble on the outside but he's not unfriendly. ]
a farmers life for me.
[ sure, working isn't really a break, but arthur isn't the best at relaxing. he's more than happy to lend a hand, it gives him something to do. he's strong, too, shaped by years of hard work not so much on a farm but definitely on the range where they had plenty of similar chores. also, just saying, he's quite the novice horticulturalist.
what he settles on is baling hay and stacking it - he's strong enough to carry a bale by himself and it seems like a good division of labor to use his strength this way so someone else doesn't have to. but if he sees anyone having some trouble with what they're doing he'll immediately offer: ]
[ arthur nods. he knows that question is more than its words. feeling alright -- that was a big deal, given how they'd last seen each other. it was more than just how are you doing, it was how are you surviving? it was, are we going to have to go through all of that again? but arthur looks healthier - underweight, still, for what he could be but not sickly so. his eyes don't look red, he doesn't look tired. ]
When they claimed it was a break, they really meant it, I guess.
[ he won't pretend to know how any of this works. he never believed in god, never believed in the afterlife. he's going to take this one step at a time because that's basically all he can do right now. thinking too hard, it just makes it more complicated. somethings you weren't meant to wrap your brain around.
he sets down his mostly eaten pie, pulls out the brochure to look at the map on it. ]
You wanna go have a look around?
[ like everything else, it's for john's benefit -- to give him an out, to get him away from the gathered people. to give him a chance to let it out if he wanted to somewhere quiet but wrapped up in the pretense of just taking a walk. ]
[ That sure is an out but John's sure as hell gonna take it. He blinks back the shred of control still left in him, looking away. He ain't a kid anymore, he should be better than this, but it's Arthur. Arthur, who gave it all for John. Nothing could've prepared him for this. ]
Y-yeah. [ His voice shakes, but he's happy to get somewhere quiter. Hell, he doesn't know where he's going, but he starts walking anyway. Maybe if he leaves, he'll turn around this'll all be some fever dream. God knows, John's been trying to cut back on his drinking for his family's sake, but... Arthur's still there when he turns around. ] I... yeah.
[ Spike usually skips out on these little gatherings, along with most other gatherings. He can't eat these things and even more so, he's not one to socialise with the neighbours. Ianto has been a good influence, but most of all he's bored out of his mind, plain and simple. So, he shows up to ogle the newcomers, hanging around with a cup of perfect 98.6 B-positive cradled in his hand. Surprisingly, this place knows how to make a good cup of blood.
He catches sight of the cowboy, brow raising. Something about that style of dress feels somewhat nostalgic. ]
[ it's fine, arthur follows john. he doesn't know where they're going, either. just away from the party, and that's basically any direction. he's still there when john turns around, and following close behind. ]
[ John won't ask Arthur to keep talking, but it's good that he seems to sense John's concern. It doesn't feel real -- it can't be, but it is. It's a lot. All the feelings John has been pushing down, all the times he's held his tongue to hold back some of the pain... he can't keep doing that if Arthur's here.
Once they're a fair enough distance away from the party, John stops. He takes off his hat -- shit, it's Arthur's hat -- and just looks at him. ]
Arthur... [ John sucks in a sharp breath, tears stinging his eyes. Every awful thing he wanted to forget comes back. Those last few days, weeks, months... John reaches forward, setting a hand on his shoulder, just to check if he's real. ] Arthur.
[ you see one of these things and you've probably seen them all. especially if you you were used to a more comfortable lifestyle back home, he figures. he lets spike stare at him for awhile, just trying to see if he'll say anything, but then he gets that inquisitive look and he chuckles low and tips his hat. ]
[ sure, it's the tone he takes with his horse but john's basically spooked right now, anyway. and he's got a damn good reason for it as far as arthur's concerned. he's not going to tell him he's wrong, he's just going to try to calm him down. and, anyway, arthur's scared too. there's a lot he wants to ask that might not have great answers. there's things he wants to know that might upset john. theres things he wants to know that might make him upset, too. there was nothing wrong with being scared. ]
[ John's breath hitches, words failing him. Fuck it, he's gonna pull Arthur into a hug. He needs to know Arthur's real. He's really there. He doesn't really care how or why, but Arthur is here. He'll worry about the other shit later. ]
[ John's not crying, it's just raining on his face. He sniffles, shaking his head. ]
I ain't dead.
[ God, it just guts him to think that after everything, Arthur could still worry about him. Not that John ever doubted that this was really Arthur, but this is the kind of thing that really makes the hole in John's heart ache. It's a hole that opened up when Arthur died. ]
It's been... years, Arthur. Eight years since you...
[ he can feel himself wanting to cry, too. eight years. how could two words feel so heartbreaking and yet so promising? because here was john, looking all grown up. and yet, apparently still running from something, enough that he took the ad and decided to come here. arthur wants to wish that what he's running from isn't his memory, but he's afraid that's actually the case. ]
Tell me you ain't been fixatin' on that for eight years. Tell me you been...shit, John, I don't care, tell me anythin'. [ his drawl, his accent, become thicker the more upset he becomes. ]
[ slowly, a smile breaks on his face. john was trying. with abigail and jack. it's pride that colors his face now, almost forgetting that john had run away to this place despite whatever trying he was doing. but he'll get back to there. ]
[ Aw, but Arthur seems happy for him! That's such a rare feeling, John takes it and rolls with it. It's been eight long years of him trying, with Abigail and Jack... But talking to Arthur makes it feel like it was worth it. (Even if, yeah, things aren't great at the moment.) ]
We tried goin' up to the Yukon for a bit, but there weren't much by the time we got there... Came back down and found some work in Strawberry... on a ranch.
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