Alice Munroe (ex_barebones985) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-12-13 03:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 23, alice munroe, gregory blair, | alice and greg |
Week 23: Thursday
Characters: Greg Blair and Alice Munroe
Location: The farmstead and parlor.
Summary: After knocking down a tree and hauling it back to the property to be further broken apart, Alice and Greg spend a little bit of recovery time in the parlor getting to know each other. Greg, of course, does most of the talking. Alice doesn’t mind much.
Rating Maybe PG if you squint.
The tree was a massive thing, sixty or seventy years old at the youngest and a good four feet around at the base. It had been a daunting task when Tom ‘suggested’ that they cut down a few trees to replenish their supply of firewood, meaning the large fir trees that covered the hillsides of the region, but they’d managed it. After two of the beasts were downed they’d trimmed the branches and cut them up for kindling, then cut the trunks themselves into manageable chunks to drag behind the trucks back to the farmstead for the final dividing.
Greg left the axe embedded halfway into a log and paused to wipe his brow with the back of a work glove. The sound of chainsaws had echoed earlier, but now they were down to splitting the logs by hand as they cut them down to size for burning in the stove and various fireplaces in the farmhouse. He’d stripped out of his coat and sweatshirt earlier due to the exertion, and wore only a long sleeve t-shirt above the waist despite the weather.
Alice had also stripped off the heavy winter coat she wore, pushing up the sleeves of the hoodie and turtleneck to about mid-forearm so she could get a good swing. Each labored breath sent out a cloud of white steam, which quickly dissipated in the cold air. While her core temperature was definitely properly warm, she could feel her nose and fingers starting to go a bit numb. They’d been working on the huge tree for what felt like hours. It was times like these that she missed the heavy duty equipment that would have stripped everything down in minutes instead of hours, but she enjoyed the ache in her arms. It made her forget what she currently was feeling.
“We could,” she panted out, “just keep ‘em into splittable chunks. Instead of pre-cutting them. It’s gonna be dark soon. Considering the work we’ve already put in I think people’d--” she swallowed, having ran out of air mid-sentence, “--be fine with that.”
Greg glanced up at the horizon to judge the light. After spending most of the last year outdoors he’d gotten to be an expert at judging the time and how much was left until sunset just from a quick look at the position of the sun. “Reckon we could consider it ‘good enough’,” he told her, taking hold of the axe handle and jerking the tool free. “There’s a few days worth of new firewood piled up along the garage. The rest can wait ‘till the morrow.” He’d been impressed that Alice had managed to keep up with his pace, the woman was seven inches shorter and at least eighty pounds lighter than he was and she’d barely slowed down all day. “You did well out here.”
The compliment had been unexpected, but appreciated all the same. Alice cracked a half smile, nodding. “Thanks.” She paused, then added: “Ditto.”
Outside of a few directions and questions being exchanged, the two had talked very little as they worked. Alice deeply appreciated it; she’d made it very clear with most of the other raiders and anyone else who got caught up in working with her that she didn’t like wasting time with idle chatter, but it usually happened anyway. Chatter was for breaks or for the evenings, not when working. Alice started loading up the wood they’d broken apart into the barrel to wheel back toward the house.
Greg yanked up Alice’s axe with one hand and started to collect all the other tools they still had out to take back into the garage. A moment later he was back outside and helped Alice with collecting the firewood. Not one for small talk while there was work to be done, he moved efficiently and quietly, knowing he would sleep like the dead until wakened for his guard shift in the wee hours. Four trips later they had the firewood piled up with the rest in a long stack next to the outer wall. “There, that’s that then.”
Alice hummed in agreement, already starting the slow trudge toward the parlor entrance to the house but walking at leisurely pace in order to allow him to beside her. She shoved her hands into her pockets, dreaming wistfully for a hot bath to settle into and soak out the soreness. Even after a few months of chopping wood regularly, it still hurt afterward. “I could do with something hot t’drink about now,” she said conversationally.
“Aye, I’d not look it askance.” Greg nodded thoughtfully as he walked alongside her toward the house, arms above his head as he stretched. “Something warm to eat wouldn’t do any harm either with all the energy we’ve burned cutting up that blasted tree. Suppose we can find something along those lines in the kitchen?” He had no idea what they were cooking for dinner, or what leftovers were being kept warm today. His lunch had been cold cuts and dried fruit, so he was definitely ready for something more substantial.
“Should be somethin’,” Alice replied with a tilt of her head. Most of the meals were hot those days, but it varied depending on who had been cooking that day. At the very least, they could toast up some bread and eat it while they waited for whoever was cooking dinner to be finished. “One thing’s for sure, I just wanna sit in front of a fireplace right now.”
“I’ll not be doing much else this eve aside from stretching so I don’t stiffen up, so that sounds as pleasant as anything else.” Greg nodded as they stepped into the house itself.
“S’times like this I wish we could build a sauna or something,” Alice said as she locked the door up behind them. “I know that they can be made without electricity, I just know jack about it.” The sudden temperature shift from being outdoors to being indoors was enough to immediately make her sweat, and Alice started stripping off her hoodie, gloves, and knitted cap.
Greg dropped his jacket and sweatshirt over the back of the nearest chair. “They pre-date recorded history, I believe we can figure it out with enough trial and error.” The chevalier thought that the idea would make a fine winter project, and made a mental note to research them. There had to be something on saunas in the encyclopedia set in the library, it would be enough to get started.
“I’d be more concerned about wasting materials, but I s’pose that’s the only way we’re gonna learn how to do stuff now, huh?” she replied, following suit.
“It cannot be that difficult,” Greg retorted, mentally debating whether to sit down in front of the fire or continue on into the kitchen to find something to eat. “The biggest issue would be to make certain we do not burn down the sauna on our first attempt to use it.”
That made Alice laugh a little. “I’d be willing to be in on the test run. A little fire might be fun.” She paused midway through a step toward the doorway leading into the kitchen. “So you’ll have whatever’s around, then? I can get it.”
Greg wasn’t going to protest if she was going to offer and he nodded in agreement. “Reckon so. If it’s edible I’ll eat it.” With that he dropped into a nearby chair and stretched out his feet. “Thank you, I do appreciate it.”
“S’no trouble,” she replied before disappearing through the doorway. It was a few minutes before she finally returned, carefully balancing a tray with two bowls of some kind of stew, and a mug each of what looked to be tea. She walked with surprising balance and skill before depositing the tray on the table between them.
“Thankee,” Greg sat up and picked up a spoon from the tray to dig into the stew. “This looks like it should keep us alive to face morning.”
Alice hummed again in agreement, picking the bowl up and holding it against her chest with one arm as she ate with the other. The heat radiated into her, and once she was settled into one of the armchairs she felt like gravity had finally acted upon her, dragging her weight further down.
“Yeah, I’m not getting up again,” she said with a small laugh. “Someone’s gonna hafta pick me up’n carry me to bed.”
Greg opened his mouth to comment on the statement, then visibly decided better and shoved a spoonful of stew into it instead. He didn’t know these people well enough yet, and didn’t trust Jed to hear about it and not take an innocent comment the wrong way. “You’re on your own there,” he finally said with a small smile and shake of his head, setting down the spoon to take up the mug of hot tea.
She’d expected a laugh or some kind of agreement, anything but his answer let her feeling awkward. She took another spoonful of her stew, debating on what to say. I really need to work on my people skills, she thought wearily.
Greg frowned at the sudden silence and wondered if he’d said something wrong. He’d be the first to admit that his skills with interacting with near strangers had degraded somewhat over the past year being on his own all this time. Eyes went wide when he took a sip of his ‘tea’. There was no tea in it at all, but rather spiced whiskey mixed with hot water. “Ah, now this definitely will warm a body up!”
His reaction erased any awkwardness she’d felt, bringing another small smile to her face. “Thought you might appreciate it. I wasn’t sure if you were a whiskey man or a brandy man, but whiskey sounded better.”
“Whiskey,” Greg responded with a lift of his mug in salute, “in deference to my ancestors from the emerald isle.”
Alice put down her bowl in exchange for her own mug, giving it a little raise in answer and taking a healthy sip from it. The drink warmed her in a way that the stew just couldn’t, and it felt fantastic. “Ever been?” she asked conversationally.
“Aye,” Greg responded with a smile, in a halfway passable imitation of an Irish accent. “My family liked to vacation there in the summer, usually the last two weeks of July. Visit the cousins, keep in contact with the old soil and all that. I haven’t been back since a cousin’s wedding three years ago.” And now he likely never would again, not that there’d be much worth seeing. His mind shied away from that thought and concentrated on more happy times. “‘tis a pretty country. They say there are shades of green found nowhere else in the world, and I believe it.”
“Sounds pretty,” Alice mused, sipping away at her drink a moment longer before reaching for her stew again. Her eyes went a little unfocused in thought. She’d never gone to see where her parents grew up. It was a sad feeling.
“Very. And a vibrant culture for all that it’s biggest export for centuries was people. My five times great Grandfather got on a boat in Dublin and travelled to California of all places.” He shook his head in amusement at the idea. “Most Irish stopped at Boston or New York, but he travelled the long way around South America to San Francisco just in time for the gold rush. The man struck it rich sure enough, selling supplies and fleecing the miners for everything they had.” And then gotten into the railroad business and becoming filthy rich in the process. Greg had to thank the man; he’d have never been able to follow his obscure passions if not for the family trust funds.
Well, that answers that question, Alice thought, finishing off the remainder of her stew and picking up the hot toddy again. She’d been meaning to find a subtle way to ask him where he was from without giving him an opportunity to turn the question around, as she really didn’t want to reminisce. Sometimes it was nice to listen to someone else’s story. Of course, that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t ask anyway.
“You can trace your family back that far?”
“Oh aye, farther even.” He smiled slightly in amusement at the question, feeling surprisingly loquacious. Maybe it was just the long day and stiff drink that was loosening his tongue. “There may have been some that were born on the wrong side of the sheets over the generations if you get my meaning, but the legitimate branches were closely tracked once James Francis Blair struck it rich in California. We could trace ourselves back even further than that, but it was just a bunch of farmers, shopkeepers and the occasional mercenary. The old world simply didn’t have the opportunities for a bright young lad to get ahead that could be found in the new.”
Alice nodded in agreement. Her parents hadn’t come over during the gold rush obviously, but her father had told stories about how much easier it was to get work and how much farther money went in the States in comparison to Portugal. Typically it was tacked onto one of the ‘you should be grateful!’ stories. She wondered how well her father would’ve done in the world they were in now with a brief but sad smile. Don’t dwell on the bad things, she told herself, sipping again on her drink.
“Still. It’s interesting to know. Not too many people cared about lineage before the world took a turn for the worst, y’know? Nobody really cared about anything that wasn’t directly in front of them.”
That earned a chuckle from Greg. “Not many people had the money to hobknob with the likes of DuPont, Astor and Carnegie back in the day either. Trust me, in those circles everyone cared about lineage because that’s how you got your money. And before that, well, it was good to know where your people came from.”
“True,” Alice murmured, fading off again. It certainly wouldn’t matter anymore where people came from; they’d all be from there. She found herself wondering if they’d ever get back to a time where there would be international travel. There would still be boats and planes, but getting fuel or power into them would always be an issue until someone managed to spread the knowledge around. Assuming the knowledge was worth having, at that point.
“I suppose ‘tis all moot now,” he muttered, echoing her thoughts. “It’ll be generations before we’re much better than tribes or clans again, everyone will know everyone in an area and know your kin.”
“That’s not such a horrible thought,” Alice replied pensively. “Things kinda got disconnected once cellphones and computers took over anyway. It might be better, being close-knit.”
“Possibly.” A shrug accompanied the statement and Greg took a deep pull from his mug. “I’m certainly not one to throw stones. Until last year most of my skill set went out of style about six centuries ago.”
That made Alice chuckle. “Something tells me they’ll be comin’ back in style faster than you think. We’ll be lucky to have you as an asset.”
That caused Greg to make a face. “Let us hope we don’t fall back that far, but you may be right. I was hoping the fearless leader could at least keep us supplied in black powder weaponry, but I suppose the makings for archery could be easier to find than the ingredients to gunpowder.”
“He’s not exactly a gunsmith, s’far as I know,” Alice said slowly, trying to dig up any specific memory where he mentioned knowing how to make gunpowder or bullets by hand. She’d have to ask him later. “Pretty sure we can still find ammo and guns for a while, though we may need to widen our range a bit.”
Greg nodded in understanding and finished off his mug. “It’ll all be sorted by Spring I’d imagine.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stared off into the fire for a moment, then stood up. “I’ll take these back to the kitchen, are you done with yours?”
At his question, Alice downed the rest of her mug and added it to the tray to be brought back. “Thanks.”
“No trouble.” He assured her as he took up the tray and prepared to head to the kitchen. “Once I’ve taken care of the dishes I think I’ll go and stretch before cleaning myself up.”
“Nice workin’ with you,” Alice said, turning her head to watch him as he started to go. “Talk to ya later.”