Just Another Day

Who: Adam and open
Where: South edge of the farm
When: Afternoon

Adam didn't celebrate Christmas - whether it came on the right day or not. In fact, Adam didn't celebrate anything. It was not allowed under his religion. Celebrations were a distraction, a dalliance of the flesh, they were not the Way. He appreciated his gift for the functional value it had. He appreciated that it allowed him to be more productive. That was right, that was proper.

Adam had had no intentions of going into town to look at the decorations. Such things did not interest him. If other chose to go, then that was their business, but he would take advantage of the clearer weather to work on the farm. Byt he afternoon, he was on to fixing the fencing that ran along the south edge of the farm. With the heavy snowfall, some of the crossbeams had fallen and he was working on refitting the joints and fixing the spars back into place. He wasn't hurrying over it, but the work was enough to keep him warm, even in the snow.

 - .

Ronnie was at a strange point, mentally. She'd waited hopefully after sending Jesse a private message, chiding herself more and more with every minute that no reply came. She'd lost control, lashed out at him for things he couldn't control when he couldn't have had an easy time on his own, and now she couldn't tell him she was sorry enough. Eventually, she'd dressed, layering clothes under a coat to keep herself warm.

Veronica had lingered in the door of the house for a while, looking over the farmland that surrounded the house. This was... removed, peaceful even. The snow was a serene blanket, the barn a natural-seeming addition to the landscape. Eventually, Veronica became aware of a dim figure in the distance, working the fence, or so it seemed. Was that the Adam she'd been told about? She huffed a foggy breath, steadying herself against the faint nerves of being exposed in the open, then started towards him. "Hello?" she called, "Um... Adam, right?"

 - .

Adam looked up, having just finished one of the fence posts. He pushed his hair back from his face. "Yeah, that's me," he confirmed, easing his shoulders back, rolling out the strain and tension familiar with physical labour. "Can I help you?" He didn't recognise the girl, but then again, there were so many people in town he didn't know.

 - .

Trudging closer towards Adam, Ronnie smiled faintly, trying not to show the strain she was still battling. "I'm your housemate," she explained as she got close enough to offer a hand. Sure, he'd been grungy and was still working, but she never minded getting her hands a little dirty. "Hi. Veronica. I just, um... woke up here this morning? And Cheyenne told me about you, I figured I'd try to at least introduce myself. Is there anything I can do to help out here?" She may not know how to help exactly, but it was better than sitting inside, waiting on a reply from Jesse.

 - .

Adam looked at her for a moment, then smiled slightly. "They're moving people around again then? They do that," he agreed, seemingly unfussed about this. He wouldn't complain about such things - people came and people went, he'd learned long ago that one shouldn't try and take too much control of their own lives. To do so was arrogant. One should simply be accepting of what occurred. He took her hand and shook it, firmly. "If you wanted to help, I'm mending some of the fences that came loose with the snowfall - I could do with someone to hold steady," he told her. It would be easier with two people.

 - .

Ronnie nodded agreeably, looking over the fence Adam had been working on when she'd approached. "I think I can handle that," she agreed, smiling back at Adam faintly and releasing his hand. "This has been going on for a while?" Ronnie asked thoughtfully, thinking on what she'd been told. Cheyenne had been here a day, and the guy on the journals, Will? He said he'd had a few more. "How long has everyone been here? I know everything's distorted here, but is this normal? People just... showing up? Waking up in strange houses?" Bizarre as her experiment had been, this hadn't been among the oddities she'd endured.

 - .

"In my experiment, this happened all along," Adam told her as they moved onto the next post. "I entered late myself - and by the time I got there, there were very few people there who had been present from the outset. Then we were moved here, and the whole thing started up again... less than a week ago? And, once again, people started appearing and disappearing without word. You get used to it," he told her, emotionlessly. He still wondered what happened to Rebekah though. He knew it was wrong that it should bother him, but he would at least like to know what had happened to her.

 - .

"I'm not sure I will," Ronnie said honestly as she followed Adam to the next post of the fence, bracing it for him with a determined set to her jaw. He was... strange, at a first impression. Not cold, but definitely flatly worded. He seemed like a guarded man, and she had to wonder if he'd always been, or if he'd lost something here and become the way he was now. We've all lost something, she thought, flinching back a sniffle as she thought of Jessie again. Veronica needed to find Jesse, he had to be as broken up about this as she was. He'd always loved their daughter fiercely, and for all his faults? Well, he'd been made for fatherhood. But she needed to be patient, to fight the urge to be a fickle and flight woman who ran to him just to know things would be okay. Ronnie had never wanted that before, she wouldn't start now. "Which experiment were you in, if you don't mind my asking?" she wondered aloud, "I only just found out there was more than my own."

 - .

"If you could hold this..." Adam said, indicating the main post as he cleared some of the lying snow before setting his tool box down. "I was in what they call Experiment A - but we didn't know there were more either. A large house, in the middle of nowhere. Or, at least, for most of it - the house burned down at one stage, and we were moved around. And you?" he asked her, noticing she looked a little upset, but not remarking upon it. Suffering was part of life and at least she was bearing whatever hers was well, carrying her burden without word.

 - .

Moving to the task Adam had requested, Ronnie set her jaw and gripped the main post snugly to secure it for him. Was it her mental exhaustion making her forget what her experiment had been called? Or had she just not been told? She felt like someone had mentioned it, but Veronica was damned if she felt like she could recall it. "I'm not sure which it was... what people are calling it. There was a bunker, though. A fake house of sorts that fed into tunnels. And people came and went? But when they went... sometimes they vanished, sometimes they just didn't come back from exploring." He seemed a strong man, a stoic sort, and Ronnie was trying to at least take her cues from what she was shown. If he wasn't going to wallow in whatever had happened? Neither would she, not right now at least. She'd just shove aside her anxiety for her daughter and her dread of what felt like an eternal wait. "Seems like you know what you're doing here, have you been living out here long?"

 - .

"I grew up on a farm," Adam told her, setting to work on resetting the fencing along that part. "Here-here? I don't know - Possibly a few weeks? Possibly the last few months? They never told us how far away we were from the original experiment sites. But, whilst we're here, I'll take care of this place - it would be wrong to allow it to fall into disrepair," he told her. It gave him focus, working. It was the right thing to do, it was the way, what he was supposed to do. Work was the focus of life, it was the reason for life. Work. Accomplishment. That was the way.