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The Wasteland and I (Open)
Joined : 2015-11-26
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|Subject Post 11Subject: Re: The Wasteland and I (Open) Mon Jun 24, 2019 4:16 pm|| |
"Yeah, growing things in the desert is as simple as finding a spot that has a good amount of nutrients...as good as you can get in the desert that is. You then plant several water storing plants around the garden for easy access to water and then you decide on specific herbs and vegetables that are easier to grow in low nutrient environments. Oh sorry, sometimes I can go on tangents about things that I'm interested in.
Steiner was trying his best to distract himself by just having meaningful conversations, however it wasn't really working. Everything that had happened over the last few days had been a struggle for him that wasn't easy for him to just forget about with the promise of just sitting down and fishing with a stranger. The smell of blood, the sight of his burning family home? Those things just don't get erased by calming one's self down and sitting and talking about it. Still he observed the rods until the rod he had been thinking about taking was taken straight out of his sight to be used by Colin took it for himself. Steiner nodded, realizing that the early bird got the worm, and decided to take the rod adjacent to it, another aluminum rod that Steiner had been eyeing. He walked next to Colin, taking in what he was doing, and listening to every word that he spoke as he tried his best to learn the secrets to fishing.
After listening to what Colin was saying he was about a few seconds away from tossing his own line in to go snag a fish of his own when Colin asked THE question. He slipped slightly, almost dropping the rod, but caught himself moments from tossing the rod into the underground lake. He let out a sigh, hoping he could have pushed the thoughts from his mind, and just enjoyed some fishing, Steiner decided to at least share a little bit of what happened with the man. There was of course an awkward silence as Steiner tried his best to compose himself before he finally began to speak.
"So...I do this hero thing and my foster family hails from France. I barely ever went home, mostly always traveled to do the right thing by people, and protect people who couldn't defend themselves. This was something that my family greatly supported me with, sure they were upset that I was never around, but they knew I was doing it for the right reasons so they never really bothered me about it. So, when the war started...well...I decided to get them out of there.
There was another long pause as Steiner finally cast his line into the lake, his eyes not even glancing over at Colin. The silence lasted a while, the only sound in the cave being the occasional drip of water from the stalactites into the lake until finally Steiner began to speak again.
"I went back to France...traveled a long time to get there and got to see just how bad things had gotten. When I got home...well...when I got home, my childhood home was ablaze and my parents were dead. It seems they refused to leave the estate when a few demons had come by to occupy it and the demons mercilessly slaughtered them. When I arrived, they were burning the evidence, and leaving nothing behind of my happy memories and my family. So...I did the right thing and enacted justice upon them. I did what they did to my parents unto them...I slaughtered at least ten....no one escaped. They did plead, they begged, and I asked them if my parents had begged and the best they could do was stutter...but enough with that.
Steiner said wiping a few tears from his eyes as he got choked up toward the end before putting both his hands back on the rod as he awaited a nibble.
Coding Altered From: [THEFROST]'s
Rower of Rock. And Souls.
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|Subject Post 12Subject: Re: The Wasteland and I (Open) Wed Jun 26, 2019 9:32 pm|| |
Music: Lenich & Kirya - Ruins.
…Neat. Colin thought to himself as the man extrapolated upon the topic he was interested in. I'll have to get his help with setting up our garden; I'd rather not be entirely dependent on myself for obtaining food… That, or find a chef… I miss Andrew. Colin reflected to himself, his hand firmly gripping the rod before handing it to the young man.
Colin's left arm reached out instinctively, his eyes still on the lake… before Steiner gripped himself, and Colin slowly began drawing it back to his body. He did not look over the entire time; he was certainly willing to help keep the man steady if he needed it… but at the same time, he did not want him to feel like Colin was imposing. …Man, this is awkward. But… better to start getting it out than… not. Otherwise we'd just be sitting like this for hours, and hours, and hours… Not that that doesn't have its own appeal, but… Colin's gaze remained steady at the lake before them, the light of the lamps he had set up illuminating the area well.
"…Sorry. I know that's a bit sudden. You don't have to all at once if you'd rather not." He apologized to the man, his voice calm, the noise of the rippling water echoing through the half-cavern, half-basement. …Willingly heading out from home, huh? Colin thought to himself, his eyes looking out at the water. An unwelcome chill went up and down his back as he remembered… …Leaving home's always rough. Being away from your family is even harder. Realizing you'll probably never see them again… One of Colin's gloved fists tightened a bit at his chain of thoughts, but that was all.
He watched the line be cast out, landing solidly a couple meters away from Colin's own. Looks like a good cast. Maybe he's got more experience than I gave him credit for. The silence echoed between them. Colin's fist relaxed again, along with a good bit of the rest of his body. He relaxed in the lawn chair, the rod laid out along his leg. …Jesus christ. That's horrifying. Colin thought to himself, the edges of his mouth slanting downward the more Steiner spoke. …Justin tried to do that to us, as well… but we managed to escape the blaze. Colin let out a slow breath
Colin shifted slightly, the bobber moving just a bit, teasing back and forth. His voice was low. Loud noises would scare the fish off, of course. "…If you're comfortable with it... Would you tell me about some of the memories you have of them?" Colin asked him, still staring out into the lake. His voice was soft, and serious. "…" Colin was not so good with tears, or excessive emotional states. He was decent enough at helping people into a situation where they could explain what was on their minds. But past that.. If they asked him for further support, he would be glad to give. Until then, he would keep his distance, his eyes fixed on his pole. If Steiner noticed, every minute or so Colin's wrist would twitch ever so slightly, his bobber shifting without barely disturbing the surface of the water. ...After all... there was one thing he said that was not quite right.
"…Even if there's nothing left of them in that house… you can still tell me about those memories, right?"
Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.
Joined : 2015-11-26
Posts : 352
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|Subject Post 13Subject: Re: The Wasteland and I (Open) Tue Oct 15, 2019 4:48 pm|| |
There was a long pauses as Steiner sat in silence after hearing Colin's request and it wasn't because he was ignoring Colin, far from it. In fact Steiner was processing things, trying to weed out the smell of burnt wood and the sight of his dead family, and trying his best to get a good memory. There was so much black, so much muck, clouding up every thought, and every single memory that Steiner couldn't seemingly find one for a bit. It was actually kind of sad and if Colin looked at his face he could easily tell that Steiner was struggling with the thought, it was as close to a look of pain he could get without literally be stabbed.
Finally to his relief a positive memory seemed to seep through the muck and darkness like a bright bulb being lit in a dark room. For a few seconds a weak smile spread across his face as he began to speak slowly, clearing his throat before doing so, and then trying his best to keep himself from breaking down. Which in itself was probably a great task for the young man.
"I...we...lived by the sea in a chateau in France. A single tree sat over looking the bay near my home and almost every night you could see the passing ships...the lighthouse beckoning them to harbor...it was beautiful.
Steiner held the rod, clutching it with his hands as some pain seeped in as he was reminded of the remains of that tree, and the graves that now sat under it. The horrible realization that they were gone, that their last breaths had been spent in horrid screams instead of peaceful passing momentarily overtaking him, but Steiner took another deep gulp and continued on.
"My mom would take me out to the tree and we would sit under it as a cool breeze passed over the cliff. She would read me stories... some of them kid's stuff, but sometimes she would read me stuff about mythology. I loved that stuff, gobbled it up, and I always wanted to be a historian after that. To delve deep into the history of how things happened in the past and discovers the secrets lost to time.
He let out a small chuckle before feeling a snag on his line. He began the old song and dance of reeling in the line and tugging on the rod to make sure the fish couldn't just wiggle his way out of his predicament. After a few seconds of struggle the line would go loose and Steiner would reel back a hook with no bait, to which Steiner would then let out a sigh that echo'd through the cave, and then reach for more bait.
"Needless to say I never became a historian, but my family thought I would be damn good at it. I agreed for a long time, was even going to go to Tokyo to study it, and get a degree, but life has a way of sidetracking sometimes.
Steiner stated as he set up his hook with another struggling worm and then sent his line back out into the middle of the underground lake once again. He racked his brain for more stories before remembering something about right before he had left his family to go to Tokyo.
"Right before I left to head toward Tokyo, my dad pulled me away from the rest of the family who were sad to see me go, and he told me he was proud of me. I remember that vividly because he was crying up something fierce and this was a guy that never cried. He was always so stern with me, but in a nurturing way, you know? To see him get so emotional over me just leaving home and striking out on my own...it sticks with me to this day. Yet hearing he was proud of me always brought me great joy...I wasn't the easiest child to raise, I always had a habit of getting into the middle of fights at school. I got my fair share of bruises and scratches from breaking up fight.
He always scolded me for that, but I can tell now it wasn't because he was mad that I was doing it, but because he was scared I would get hurt. He always knew I would do the right thing...even when I was that young he trusted me.
A bunch of tears began to well up in his eyes as he wiped them with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat again before asking Colin a question:
" I feel like this is a lot of talking about me...what about you? You got a story or are you just a mystery?
Coding Altered From: [THEFROST]'s
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