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songerein2022-09-10 04:15 pm
steadypulse) wrote in songerein2022-09-10 04:15 pm
Entry tags:
It's Like I'm Powerful With A Little Bit of Tender
Who: Reaper & Soldier: 76
Which: Closed Log
Where: Shared safehouse hidden out in the Wildlands
What: Two old men talk- Reaper definitely has something to say after all.
Warnings: Adult language, unhealthy coping mechanisms mentioned here and there, old men with long history, and things that may come up with old soldiers. Anything else will get added.
76 had pulled together a bench, chair pulled up to it, and had a few parts scattered out over the cloth covered surface. A quiet moment with a bit of natural lighting filtering in through boarded windows and some of the holes left intentionally in the ceiling, an ankle hooked behind a leg of the chair. Mostly he was cleaning gun parts, the side-arm already laid out in its various sections to the side all organized and simply waiting to be put back together.
Routine maintenance, something he found a bit soothing.
Pulse rifle was propped to the side, already taken care of; what was currently being taken apart for servicing was the hunting rifle he'd picked up. Making sure it was cleaned, no worry of it backfiring on him or anything. Almost done by the time he looked up, judging by the light to gauged how much time had passed already.
He glanced to the side then, setting the rifle part down as he pushed up to his feet to check on the cooking pot on the stove. Lifting up the lid and- okay, the stew was just about done. Could lower the temperature and let it just simmer without worry of anything sticking to the bottom and burning.
Ridiculously domestic. A passing thought as he put the lid back down, stretching a bit as he realized how long he must have been sitting there.
Which: Closed Log
Where: Shared safehouse hidden out in the Wildlands
What: Two old men talk- Reaper definitely has something to say after all.
Warnings: Adult language, unhealthy coping mechanisms mentioned here and there, old men with long history, and things that may come up with old soldiers. Anything else will get added.
76 had pulled together a bench, chair pulled up to it, and had a few parts scattered out over the cloth covered surface. A quiet moment with a bit of natural lighting filtering in through boarded windows and some of the holes left intentionally in the ceiling, an ankle hooked behind a leg of the chair. Mostly he was cleaning gun parts, the side-arm already laid out in its various sections to the side all organized and simply waiting to be put back together.
Routine maintenance, something he found a bit soothing.
Pulse rifle was propped to the side, already taken care of; what was currently being taken apart for servicing was the hunting rifle he'd picked up. Making sure it was cleaned, no worry of it backfiring on him or anything. Almost done by the time he looked up, judging by the light to gauged how much time had passed already.
He glanced to the side then, setting the rifle part down as he pushed up to his feet to check on the cooking pot on the stove. Lifting up the lid and- okay, the stew was just about done. Could lower the temperature and let it just simmer without worry of anything sticking to the bottom and burning.
Ridiculously domestic. A passing thought as he put the lid back down, stretching a bit as he realized how long he must have been sitting there.