![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ph_memes2023-12-10 08:04 am
December Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"
[Mod Note: This is a Mini-TDM (previously just called an "Open" post) because we were technically due for a fresh bi-monthly TDM. However, due to the light-duty December schedule and the fact that a December-themed TDM that also works for January is kind of limiting, we're doing a single-month mini-TDM now with a new two-month TDM coming in January! This public post is open to both new and existing players/characters. Please mind the content warnings, and enjoy!]
Pumpkin Hollow Gazette
12/10/2023 | Mini-TDM - "The Dead of Winter"
Content Warnings: "Further Details" section has independent CW labels.
Pumpkin Hollow continues to welcome new residents!
HOLIDAY BAZAAR NOW OPEN FOR BUSINESS
By Yorick Aberdeen
MAIN STREET - Splendid news, Pumpkin Hollowites! In preparation for Givingstide, the annual Main Street Holiday Bazaar is now open from now until the end of the month in Downtown Hollow! With the failed-then-rescheduled Dance of Celestine debacle behind us, we could all use a bit of festive cheer as Marrow Isle enters its most difficult season. Come down to Town Hall for a simple game that comes with fantastic prizes, then enjoy an afternoon on the town! Enjoy the spectacle of festive decorations amid snowy streets, and find any number of finely crafted gifts to share with your loved ones this Givingstide.
Long-time residents, please remember that for the first time in a long while we have residents who have never experienced a Pumpkin Hollow Givingstide before. It is important that we show our best and most festive hospitality to newer residents, and comfort anyone who might be homesick during this time. Have a Blessed Givingstide, and may your lantern always be lit!New Oven Installed; Pizza Feast Commences
By Cecil Gershwin Palmer
The oven in question.
NORTHWEST HOLLOW - Local blacksmith River LaCroix has built a free-standing pizza oven on the farm belonging to Arthur Morgan.
Pizza, first created by Francisco Pizarro in the early 1500s before his assassination by Gavrilo Princip, is a food celebrated for its flavor and the variety of possible topping combinations it has. It begins with a base of dough, traditionally made from wheat or wheat by-products. This is then topped with a sauce (tomato is traditional, though other varieties involve barbecue sauce or chocolate sauce) and a cheese that melts easily, along with any vegetables, fruit, meat or other vaguely edible ingredients one desires. Spicy sausages called pepperoni are very popular, as well as mushrooms, peppers and even chunks of pineapple. Anyone who tells you that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza is simply incorrect and should not be trusted.
In celebration of the new oven’s creation, free personal-sized pizzas will be cooked and shared with all residents of Pumpkin Hollow, funded by local reporter Cecil Gershwin Palmer. Arthur Morgan’s farm is easily reached by trolley, or on foot if you’re scared of trolleys. But it really is a long walk, so just ride with a friend if you’re scared, really, they won’t hurt you. At least, we don’t think they will. Then again, considering how riding the train went in November, you never know…
Regardless! Pizza, Arthur Morgan’s farm, free food, perhaps even drinks? We look forward to seeing you there.
FESTIVE FIEND SIGHTED ACROSS MARROW ISLE
By Yorick Aberdeen
The jingling menace.
ISLAND-WIDE - Reports of a mysterious horned creature sporting strangely seasonally appropriate attire have come in from all over the island over the past week. Witnesses say that this apparently demonic holiday entity somewhat resembles our local Pine Devil, but has curled ram horns instead of antlers and is wingless. He is also apparently capable of speech, as victims claim to have heard him speaking about “wicked deeds” and “naughty behavior” and repeating a gibberish word occasionally--- “Christmas.” The reports detail multiple instances of harassment as well as public acts of violence that are definitely not comical in any way. It is absolutely in no way hilarious to see someone get smacked with a stick in broad daylight by an evil satyr wearing Givingstide getup and jingling festively, and this matter is extremely serious.
Despite resisting arrest and avoiding being detained by the constabulary on numerous occasions, the demon was strangely available for comment. He has identified himself as Krampus the “Christmas” Devil and had this to say of his crimes: “It’s my proud duty and a longstanding tradition that I punish the naughty and wicked every holiday season. It’s practically a civil service, if you ask me. Maybe if you didn’t want to be attacked, you might stop being such a troublemaker and be a blessing to your neighbor for a bit. Or don’t. More fun for me that way.” He then proceeded to take a large fistful of candies from the bowl on Miss Leeds' desk and disappeared in a puff of snow, leaving the carpet wet.
Anyone with any further information about this Krampus creature should reach out to the constabulary with tips. Any noteworthy reports are appreciated!
MOURNER’S NIGHT PROCESSION INFORMATION
By Yorick Aberdeen
The town's lone hearse, prepared for duty after annual maintenance.
FALL'S PROMISE CEMETERY - While it is always easy to get swept up in the jolly festivities of Givingstide, it is important that we also remember to pay homage to the spirits of those we have lost and the goddess who guides them, and whose protection we seek in this most difficult time of the year. Each winter, when the world is at its darkest and its coldest, we take to the streets and process to Fall’s Promise in the tradition of our age old funeral practices. Mayor Poe will have the honor of leading us this year.
To participate, join us in the streets at 6:00pm. Dress warmly, as it has been snowing quite a bit this past week and will not have melted. The procession will begin promptly once everyone has their candles lit, so please be timely and even early if you are able.
Please inquire at the Temple of Sacred Roots if you have any questions regarding Mourner’s Night.
Page 1
Holiday Bazaar
Main Street is beautifully decorated, each lamp post strung together with pine garlands and cranberry strings. The frigid air preserves them perfectly and coats them all in a light frost. Windows of shops glow warmly with festive decorations. Images of horses, either alone or drawing carriages or sleighs, can be seen everywhere. Advertisements for sales and specials dot the street corners and the air is full of delicious smells--- coffee, chocolate, sugar, fruit, roasted meat. Booths are also placed along the streets near Town Hall, and merchants hawk their wares. Artisan crafts and jarred preserves, decorations and novelties, all manner of thoughtful gifts. Givingstide approaches, they declare!
What is Givingstide, you ask? Why, any local will gladly tell you! It’s the festival of midwinter, anticipating the return of spring. Warmer weather, longer days, fresh food, all drawing ever nearer as Winter reaches its peak. Gifts are exchanged to share blessings with loved ones, appreciate them for all they’ve done for you this past year and wish them prosperity in the next one. Perhaps similar holidays are familiar to you.
kr
The holiday bazaar is the perfect place to buy a gift for Givingstide. It’s also a magical place for a walk with friends, or even a date. So many beautiful items for sale! And booths selling warm drinks and sweet treats! There are even carriage drivers offering rides up and down the street to take in the scenery, their steeds and vehicles garnished with silver bells and cedar boughs.
Also, right outside of Town Hall, there is a booth that is selling nothing. In fact, it is offering something for free--- a voucher that can be used to make purchases here! While it can only be used to make purchases from the holiday bazaar and expires after Givingstide, vouchers can be good for up to a whopping 500 Brass. All one needs to do to acquire it is win a trivia game! Ten questions, 50 Brass for each right answer. Perhaps you can earn yourself a bit of extra pocket change?
You'll Catch Your Death of Cold
[CW: manipulative language, hypothermia, starvation.]
There’s always something wrong with Lockwood Forest. From the Pine Devil to Brutoks, some manner of strange nonsense is always going on, and it is almost always dangerous. Less so when the cheerful spectral pocket monsters were here, but now that they’ve moved on and a blanket of snow has coated the leafy ground, the eerie quiet here has returned. Not only that, but the trails are covered. This isn’t a huge issue in areas of the forest with more traffic as there are plenty of footprints to follow, but deeper in, the forest becomes a maze.
Despite the danger, you’ve decided to go in. There are any number of reasons why you’ve done this: needing to hunt or forage to sustain your food supplies through the winter, searching for firewood in places that aren’t already picked over, seeking a quiet moment alone. Perhaps you simply got lost. These things happen, especially if you’re new to the island. No one will judge you, probably! Hopefully you at least didn’t come alone.
Regardless, the trails are covered. It’s hard to tell which gaps between trees are part of the path or just formed naturally. Animal footprints sprawl out in all directions like a spider’s web, which only serves to make things more confusing. Soon you begin to feel turned around somehow. Is it just you, or have the past five trees you walked by looked really similar? Haven’t you seen this holly bush before? You could swear you’ve been this way three times already… Oh dear. It’s so hard to tell. Even if you’re otherwise good at navigating the woods, something about this expanse of white snow and imposing pine trees is throwing you off. Almost as if there is some kind of magic at work here…
You wander the forest for a long time. For a while, your cold tolerance had peaked at that point where you’d been out long enough that you were used to it but not so long that it was starting to wear you down, but that peak is waning quickly. It’s freezing, and you’ve been out in it for a long time now. It sinks into your bones, making you feel sluggish. The chill bites at your face and the wind stings your eyes. Unless you have a traveling companion who is lost with you, there’s a strong chance you haven’t seen another person in… How long has it been? Hours? Days? Surely it can’t have been days. It certainly feels like days. Everything hurts and you are very hungry.
”You look so tired.” You have no idea where the voice comes from, but it’s clearly not just in your head. The echo through the trees causes a startled bird to fly off nearby. Maybe it’s just the haze that’s come over you from the shivering chill and deep exhaustion you feel that is making you so disoriented by the sound of the voice. All you know is that it is close, and it is beautiful and sweet. ”It must have been exhausting, walking all this way. Did you come to see me, or for something else?” You don’t remember the answer.
”Here, follow me. I’ll take you to safety.”
The sound of the voice guides you to a clearing in the forest, and it is the most beautiful clearing you have ever seen. Everything is covered in thick, plush pillows of fluffy white snow that look like billowing clouds and the silvery moonlight causes the icicles in the trees to sparkle and shine. (When did it become night time?) The sky is a deep plummy purple and above you there is a veritable explosion of stars like you’ve never seen before. You feel like you could fall in, dwarfed by the slice of night sky that peeks in through the trees. (The stars, are they closer than usual?)”Come, lie down. Rest your weary bones. The snow here is softer than any bed.” Looking at those mounds of pristine, untouched snow, you begin to feel like whoever this is might be right. And you are so tired. ”You are safe here. You are loved. The world is beautiful and peaceful here. No more monsters, no more pain. Just rest in the arms of someone who loves you. Can’t you feel the warmth of my love?”
As the voice says this, you do notice that you start to feel warmer. Almost uncomfortably warm in your clothes, and you’re tempted to shed them. In the depths of your exhaustion, it is hard to tell if this is the warmth of a loving embrace or something else. But your shivering stops and you feel held. It’s so quiet here, so far away from the town of ghosts and monsters and people and work that you know.
”I promise you are safe here. I will take care of you. Just sleep now, my darling. I love you. Stay with me and you will want for nothing.”
The desire to lie down becomes nearly irresistible.
[ You are entering severe hypothermia. If you sleep here, you will die. If you came here alone, there is a chance someone else could find and rescue you. If you came with a traveling companion, you may be able to overcome the trance and the chill together. Or, if you like, you could write about the aftermath of dying. See our Death page for details! ]
Krampusnacht
[CW: Harassment (tone of comic mischief) ]
Have you been naughty or nice this year? In Pumpkin Hollow, there are no such tales--- but you and your extradimensional neighbors are hardly the first things here to be snatched from other worlds. And there is no better reminder than the mysterious horned figure that has been lurking about town.
If perhaps you’ve been up to some mischief this year, you may begin to see him out of the corner of your eye as the snows of December begin to fall. Did you hurt someone’s feelings? Take the last muffin without asking? Commit unspeakable evils in your former life? Sounds like you’re due for a visit from Krampus!
It all starts with a lump of coal, left out in the open in a place it should not be. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you’ll spot a horned and furry figure (that is decidedly not the Pine Devil) in the distance wielding a bundle of bound sticks in one hand and a sack in the other, wearing a wicked grin. Incongruous with his ghastly, beast-like appearance, he sometimes wears a red cloak lined with white fur or golden jingle bells on red ribbons tied to his ankle. He’ll disappear behind a snow drift and you will think your mind is playing tricks on you.
Next, you’ll begin to find your personal items missing. Wherever you left them, they’ll just be gone, and in their place will be a candy cane. In case you were worried that it might be a nice little treat, fear not! It tastes utterly foul.
The final stage is more direct visits from the Christmas Devil. He will ambush you at any time of day to attack you with sticks regardless of how public the location is, that way everyone can know what a troublemaker you are! He will also occasionally stuff you into his sack and abandon you at random locations, typically unpleasant ones. He cannot be killed--- indeed, he cannot even be struck, dodging quickly or disappearing and reappearing in puffs of snow every time you try and cackling all the while. So how do you get rid of him?
That’s easy! Just get yourself onto the Nice List by any means necessary. Time to start doing some good deeds around town and hope you aren’t subject to any more attacks in the meantime. If you do a good enough job, you may even get your missing items back! Gruß vom Krampus!
Mourner’s Night
[CW: grief and past death in the context of the holiday season]
As the early dark of high winter begins to fall, people begin to gather on the streets. A somewhat odd sight, but this isn’t the first time that people have come together under lantern light for an event that is in defiance of the danger posed by darkness. They are bundled tightly, wearing mostly black if it is available in clothes warm enough, and many people have donned veils which cover their faces with black lace.
From the streets, there is an informal procession. At intervals, there are men in uniform black military peacoats and black caps carrying tall poles with bright lanterns on top, swaying in the frigid air. Their faces are painted to look like skulls. Yorick is among them. Despite the difference in gender, River is invited to take up this role, implying something about what these lantern-bearers are meant to symbolize. The rest of the townsfolk are asked to follow along as they please, each bearing a long white candle stuck into a paper cup meant to catch its wax. The candles are in no danger of blowing out— the wind is eerily still.
The procession is largely silent. The people who do speak do so only in whispers. It winds through the streets of the town, converging on one of the main roads. Once it is clear of buildings, the front of the solemn parade becomes visible. A black funeral carriage, like one that may have once conveyed caskets, bearing lanterns at each corner. The two black horses are marked with skeletons using white chalk on their fur, and it is driven by a woman in garb representative of deepest mourning. This is Hellen Poe, playing the role of Mortanne.
It has been a long time, what feels like ages, since the people of this town have had a funeral procession outside the context of Mourner's Night. But they remember well their traditions and follow them with reverence. This, for you outsiders, is a unique glimpse at something you might not otherwise see due to the effects of the barrier. Each and every person in town follows the trail left by carriage wheels in the fresh snow and arrives at Fall's Promise Cemetery.Beyond the wrought iron gate, there is more silence. Locals gather around the graves of their friends and loved ones, saying silent prayers and spending time in contemplative remembrance. You see Dahlia stand outside the central mausoleum, looking grimly up at her own name carved into the stone.
Degas has made his way over to a grave. He is here as himself, not as a reverend, and he does not leave the side of the headstone he gravitated toward. Melly Clayton.
Meanwhile, Dr. West is loitering at the back near a gargoyle. For once even he is present. And far off in the shadows, a small figure looms outside the fringes of lantern light, looking off into the sea. Silvery hairs catch the light occasionally. Elsie.
The candlelight vigil remains silent for a long time as people recall and honor their loved ones. Any sound of shuffling or movement is dampened further by soft, fluffy snow, creating a deep and heavy hush that is almost loud in its soundlessness. Perhaps, deep in the Season of Spirits, the presence of the fallen can be felt in the quiet dark.
Your mind drifts as the somber reverence beckons your mind to your memories. Who do you honor? A lost lover, a passed parent, someone you left behind in your life before?
Or perhaps you honor yourself. You did die to get here, after all. And it’s probable that you aren’t the only one to think so.
In the distance, the bell tower chimes. Then, rising up from the snow, soft at first and then louder, a song. The locals are beginning to sing a hymn about Mortanne sharing carriage rides with passengers, reminiscing about their lives as her carriage drives them to the afterlife. Did you learn it from a local before the festival? Do you sing, hum, or remain silent?
As the song finally comes to a close, all at once the locals blow out their candles, leaving the graveyard in darkness aside from the lantern poles. The silence now broken, people shuffle along, meeting up to mingle and hug or heading home for an early night. Some of them are crying.
Additional Note:
If you have any form of ESP, you notice something while attending Mourner’s Night. This includes people who have a special connection with spirits or death, or any sort of true sight that allows them to see things others cannot.
Toward the end of the hymn, a person you hadn’t seen before catches your eye. She is a young woman, with long black hair and a tattered white gown. Her eyes are sunken and her skin is marred with contusions and scars. She looks very, very tired. She is sitting on the boarded-up well that is on the far end of the cemetery. Even in the orange glow of candlelight, you can tell she is quite pale.
Across the graveyard, her eyes meet yours. Then the song ends, the candlelight dies, and she seems to blink out of existence.
Sam Porter Bridges | Death Stranding | Existing player, OTA
It's been a long damn time since Sam has been involved with anything resembling a holiday. The closest he might have come is when the people running his damned life would see fit to leave something for him in his private room at one of the distro centers, but even then, a cake and a Santa hat was hardly an adequate holiday by the standards that this place is setting. The decorations out of the local flora are a nice touch. Everything being dusted with snow that doesn't actually suck to walk through is nice, too.
Sam can be seen here and there among the festivities with a voucher for a certain amount of Brass' worth of festival offerings thanks to a few lucky guesses on the trivia questions, and so far he's gotten himself a nice, simple coat and new fingerless gloves, and a new blanket to wrap around his infant daughter, who's strapped to him in her sling with that stuffed rabbit that she constantly has with her now. A little hat is pulled over her head to keep warm.
He's got a pouch of roasted nuts that he's picking from as he wanders, finally taking a day off just to exist and try to actually do something with himself that isn't just work. You may spot him stopping at the occasional booth looking at...craft supplies? Things to use for homemade gifts, at least.
Catch Your Death
Sam lives out in these woods, more or less. He's almost learned them back to front. He knows the trails like he knows the marks on his body. He's never gotten lost like this before, and now, with an arm tucked around Lou's body, he walks slowly in the darkness with a lantern hooked to his belt, intended to help him keep his footing in the dark as he returns home from the festivities. It doesn't help as much as he would hope.
"God...damnit man," he mutters under his breath, turning to reach up and break a branch to mark his path so that he knows where he's passed. Can't un-break a stick, right?
The voice that drifts through the trees puts him right on edge. People don't speak to him sweetly like that unless they want something, or they know him well enough to know that such things weird him out and are getting a kick out of it. It makes its promises of warmth and love, and just for a moment, it sounds familiar. It sounds like a voice that he hasn't heard in more than a decade. It makes him angry enough that he turns his back on it entirely, because if this is the way that he hears Lucy's voice again, then he wants no part of it. But it hurts. It hurts so badly to walk away to find some other sign of life out here. He can't even appreciate how pretty it is out here anymore.
It's so cold, but he's fought through cold before. He knows better than to give in to the paradoxical hyperthermia that makes him feel like he's starting to burn up in his skin. It hurts, but he'd weather it. He has to. He has to keep his child safe. He shivers violently, and Lou begins to fuss audibly. It gives him something else to focus on. It gives him the strength to try and make his way back out again.
"C'mon kid, we're goin' home..."
Mourner's Night
Lou has been taken home and put to bed, warm and safe, tucked in with her rabbit after a warm bottle. It's only when he's sure that she's sound asleep that Sam joins the procession.
Sam hangs back a few steps behind the trailing end of the crowd, the lantern he'd secured to his belt shuttered enough to be as respectful as he can manage. He's silent, observant, and as soon as he can split off away from it all without being noticed, he does so.
He can be found in a quiet corner of the cemetery near an unmarked stone, sitting down on a nearby bench, watching the winking lights between the memorials. He mourns very quietly, turning over what he can remember of the people that he cared about that he had lost. He doesn't have the photo that he had once carried everywhere with him anymore or he might have been looking down at it at a loss for words. He doesn't cry for his loss. He hasn't in a very long time. But he still feels it acutely all the same.
If you know Sam, it would be logical to think that he's fallen asleep there on that bench by himself. He's just sitting in silent vigil over this faded stone, in a vaguely dissociative state. Either way it will take a moment to get his attention if you come to him.
Wildcard
Feel free to tag along with Sam wherever you want to! The only way he'd tell you to buzz off is if you're being deliberately obnoxious and even then, it would take a lot of doing to get that to happen. Maybe you've come up on him building a snowman for his kid! Maybe you just wanna meet the baby! It's all good!
Yes, He Wants To Build A Snowman {Wild Card}
Then he finds it, at one of the Bazaar stalls. They're little sets for mother and daughter, some of them even bridal keepsakes, but there's one that calls out to him. One that brings forth some of the rare and precious few memories of 'Nam that aren't bad. Even kind of good...
He just has to ask the vendor if they can swap out the chain on the larger version of the jade bracelet for something a little heavier, more masculine. That's what he tells the vendor so it comes out right, but he's thinking of Sam's job, too, and the work on the cabin, and the spring...
The end result is perfect. The links of the chain are thicker, sturdier--less likely to snap, and he's assured the metal is pure and won't do worse than tarnish under heavy use. And the chain on Lou's tiny bracelet can be easily lengthened, making sure she can wear it for a long time to come.
He's feeling...pretty damn good about the gift on his way home from the Bazaar (by way of a long walk that takes him away from all the hustle and bustle for a while) when he spots Sam with a telling bundle of blankets strapped to his chest and what appears to be the start of a snowman.
(He can ignore the way his chest seizes, seeing Sam smile. He can pretend it doesn't matter, the way that body he's seen and admired moves with so little tension, just doing what comes so naturally. He can ignore this just to be close to him.)
Wrapping up his bag tight and tucking it in the pocket of his jacket so it won't be seen too soon, John wanders over and makes sure Sam catches sight of him before he walks up--and talks to Lou instead.
"Hey, Beautiful--is this big lug crampin' your style?" he teases. "What's say you and me go have some real fun, I know verses to 'The Wheels On The Bus' I bet this guy's never even heard of."
/clutches chest
He's good at keeping things close to the chest, and nothing about him gives away that in his pack sitting off where it's not resting in the snow, there's a bundle of craft supplies that will soon be a replica of his dreamcatcher.
"Careful, she might give you the run-around, take you for all you're good for," Sam replies as he holds out the thermos, which smells strongly of cider and would taste faintly of good whiskey. He might have gotten a drink from the bazaar and transferred it into his own bottle to keep the heat in for longer. "You getting used to bein' in the middle of town?"
okay I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS MY HEART
But he's got his fingers curled around it before he's really aware of what he's doing. It's in his hand, it smells good, and it's warm where the knot of fear in his stomach is so damn cold.
He hesitates visibly, swallowing hard--then after a glance at Sam, steals a sip before handing it back. It's a small one, but it's good. More cider than whiskey, but it brings to mind some of the stuff he tried when he was a kid, only better tasting.
"Nah, but I'm managing." John replies, passing back the thermos and losing that flash of panic as he moves closer to Sam. Careful not to touch him, he reaches for one of Lou's hands.
"How 'bout you, princess? You lookin' forward to being a frontier girl, huh? You givin' your pop extra hugs and high fives for me?"
no subject
Taking the thermos back, Sam takes another drink for himself then caps it and puts it back in the inner pocket of his coat tucked under where Lou's harness rests. She doesn't react, preferring to keep an eye on John, big green eyes pointed up at him as he offers his hand. She's got mittens on hers, one of which has clearly been chewed on recently.
"Just watch, when she actually learns to walk we're gonna lose her. She's gonna go out and live with the goatman."
no subject
"Ah! Mercy, mercy--you're too strong!" he laughs. "See? She thinks she can beat me up, she could take the goatman easy."
Lou is seemingly delighted with her super strength, showing him mercy by releasing his hand so she can chew on the damp mitten that had been wrapped around his finger, beaming and giggling the whole time. John can't quite take his eyes off her, until he looks up at Sam...and it's even harder to take his eyes off of him.
There's a light in his eyes John's never seen. Glimpses have shone through, when he talks about Lou, but having her with him? It's like standing in the middle of the sun, and it's strange how all those little aches and pains of longing he feels around the guy just fade with the sheer joy of seeing him happy with this tiny creature trussed up against his chest.
"She teething?" he asks, nodding to where she's got her mitten in her mouth again. "If we can freeze up some bread, that's good for a kid--Mom did it to me when I was small, or so I heard. Fruits 'n veg work too--cold soothes, and as she cuts teeth she can snack on some of it."
no subject
The question is met with a small nod. "She's hittin' all the milestones in the next couple's months, I think. Gonna start movin' around of her own accord, start hollerin' actual words, gettin' her teeth... Shit, I'm gonna have to see if the library's got picture books. Ain't really cut out to be a teacher... Maybe Freeman..." He trails off, now thorough distracted by that train of thought. It gives John plenty of time to watch him puzzle it out.
no subject
And doing that around John feels like he's been let in a little more. It feels really good.
However, when he can sort of see Sam spiraling a little into his own head, John has to bite back a smile--and not just because of the mention of Freeman, though that makes his eyes light up.
It's cute. God, he's hopeless--and that should really bother him more. Except...well...it feels really good to just feel something...something that doesn't hurt.
"Hey--it ain't gonna happen overnight." John assures him. He's aching, itching to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder, try to do something to offer reassurance, support...
He take's Lou's tiny hand in his--the one not currently trying to jam a piece of dried fruit into her cheek with slobbery gusto--and hopes it translates as he runs a thumb over her little fingers.
"Besides, if you're tight with Freeman? They don't let anyone get away with a damn thing. Trust me, I know." John laughs. "Never even met 'em, and they were all over me when they didn't like the way I was eating. We'll figure out teaching, but that'll come more when she's actually got a few words to her name. Talking to her's a good start."
He looks into Lou's face. "Right, Gorgeous?"
Lou just stares, then tries to offer John her fruit.
"Yeah? Thanks, sweetheart, but I already got my teeth." he laughs, gently urging her to to back to gumming her teething snack with a nudge of his hand. "There you go...feels better, doesn't it?..."
no subject
It's the little things like that that make Sam feel a little better about the efforts that he makes for other people, even if he does sometimes mutter about wishing he could just take a day off once in a while. He knows that he'd go stir crazy if he stayed still for too long.
Lou holds on to John's finger as they talk over her head, listening to them with a disgruntled look as she starts getting a little more sleepy. A lot has been happening today with the holiday after all, and she needs a nap. Between the makeshift teether and the solid hand to hold onto, she's at least not inclined to be actively screaming.
"Oh yeah, I talk to 'er all the time. Used to have this song I'd play for 'er too since music's supposed to be good for kids but my stuff didn't come with me, so I can just whistle it. Works like a charm to get her in a good mood at least."
no subject
He knows Sam comes from a different world than him, so maybe they don't have the same music...
John starts to hum "The Song Is Over" by the Who, not trusting his voice because...well, it's not great. The humming, however, seems to go over well as Lou's eyes continue to droop and she's less chewing, more sucking on the piece of fruit as she nestles her head against Sam.
Meeting his gaze, John shrugs. "I dunno if they have the Who where you came from, but trust me, they're good stuff. Beatles are overrated, though."
no subject
"We lost a hell of a lot when the world ended. Ain't heard much music at all. People were startin' to make more though, n' I knew this guy, lived up a fuckin' crevasse where nobody else could get to him. He was always trackin' down old music where he could, drives n' sheets n' shit. Shared some stuff with me. Showed me how to play a harmonica. There's one though, one I'd been carryin' with me my whole damn life..."
Eyes down, Sam watches Lou for a long moment, listening to John's song and watching the baby drift in and out of sleep. He wets his lips, and whistles a song that gets a chirpy little giggle from Lou as she snuggles down deeper in her harness.
no subject
...but yeah, the idea that Sam's never heard the Who is unforgivable, and John is suddenly feeling bereft with the reality of living in what amounts to Victorian England.
"Sounds like a lullaby." John observes, reaching out to run a gentle finger over Lou's pudgy cheek, making her coo before yawning and officially tucking herself closer to Sam and deeper into her harness to let herself nod off.
"But now I'm fuckin' pissed there's no record store around here." he goes on with a smile. "Still, least you're a clean slate when it comes to the Beatles. They're a band, a good one, but really overrated in my world."
He looks up at Sam again, still smiling, but thoughtful.
"Bet we could find a harmonica 'round here--you teach me to play, I could probably figure out a few of The Who's songs to show you."
no subject
"Yeah. It got sung to me when I was real small," he explains, watching her rather than looking back at John. He's still listening, though. Always listening, and now wondering vaguely if this place has anything resembling vinyl record technology. It must be on the way, surely. "Wonder if they've figured out the gramophone yet...could figure out what kinda music they make here. Find something that sounds right."
The idea of getting a harmonica has occurred to him more than once, and he nods his approval. "Sure, I can try."