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boogieshoesand here it is, this little dream i had last night:
I'm in college, and I think, talking to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slavelabour. I say, 'The problem is, we need more 'destiny-fic', where the descendents of the guys are brought together. What happened to them, anyway?'
Van says: 'I don't know, all we have is that poem.'
'Well, what does the poem say?'
'Four Courners faded away, Chris and Vin went out west to (somewhere), and when Chris died, he left Vin his land which looked out over the ocean.'
'But that's in California,' I say, already 5 steps ahead, because I'm thinking maybe the descendents are brought together on some kind of 'buried treasure' quest. 'And, well, that land is probably gone - the ocean's been eroding California pretty good for the past hundred years.'
So I'm thinking, while running around to college classes I don't know how to get to, in a city I've never seen. And finally I decide - maybe Chris leaves his land to Vin, but Vin doesn't want to stay there without Chris. Vin decided to go back to the midwest to live with the only family he's ever known, before the 7. He's the last of the 7, even though he's pretty young, still, maybe late 30s or early 40s. The tribe that took him in has been devistated by the white man, so he winds up joining a band of Sioux before they're rounded up to reservations, and just kind of 'fading' into the tribe. 'Vin Tanner' sort of 'ceases to exist', while he adapts to the Sioux ways. He's still there, just wrapped in an outer layer of 'Sioux warrior'. He marries a Sioux woman, and they have children, and he becomes quietly famous for having powerful medicine - possibly for being a good healer or shaman. On the reservation, he doesn't interact with the white men at all, but even when he does, he's all but unrecognizable as 'white'. When he's buried, neither he nor his tribe want the whites to know where his final resting place is, so they hide it, and pilgrimmage to the burial becomes a rite of passage for his descendents.
I like this, so I begin writing in my dreams, constructing a story. And I'm writing a story that takes place in a modern-day AU, and the focus is on modern!Chris, as seen from OW!Vin's point of view. See, I figure the more Vin immerses himself in Indian ways again, the more Vin has visions, which happen more and more frequently as he gets closer to death. So the story starts out like this:
The sun-dreams were becoming more frequent as his body succumbed more and more to these fevers. In his dream, he was in a field of tall prairie grass, waving golden in the late summer heat, stretching to every horizon. He waited, leaning against Peso, listening to crickets humming, birds chirping, watching a hawk lazily circle in the distance. He felt contentment, here. Knew the peace of eternal fellowship with his friends, wide-open sky, bright sun-kissed hay, and Chris.
For it was Chris who was in this meadow with him - the land-scape changing as it was wont to do in dreams. The grass became green, the air hazier, with a sour taint Vin didn't recall ever experiencing in Four Corners.
That town was gone now, faded into history like so much of his life. It had boomed under their care, his, Chris's, Buck's, Josiah's, Ezra's, Nathan's, and JD's. But it had been quickly deserted when the railroad had passed it by. With no people, and no interest, Vin was sure one of the ranchers had gobbled up the land and the buildings, and turned it back into grazing land for cattle.
He turned to Chris - not exactly his Chris, but his Chris all the same. He knew that, too, in the way of knowing one had in dreams. It helped, of course, that this Chris, though blond and lean, was more solid than his own, stronger and broader across the shoulders, with warm brown eyes, not hazel green. But he knew it was his Chris who looked out at the dusty road taking shape in front of them, leading off to the heavily forested hillside in front of them. His friend was looking oddly at him, and Vin realized he must look strange to the man, dressed in his beaded warrior's shirt, with feathers braided in his hair and paint upon his chin. Peso beside him had the western rig on, but he, too, was painted for war. He nodded to himself. He was here to fight by Chris's side once again.
This Chris-not-Chris looked strange to him, too, with his navy blue trousers, matching shirt, black tie - had his Chris ever worn a tie? He couldn't remember one. He wore a matching navy hat that was too thin to be much good against the soaking rain or blowing snow, and the brim that didn't do a damned thing to shade his eyes. His shoes were so highly polished they shone, and the strangest gun rig he'd ever seen, with holsters not just for a gun, but for handcuffs and sticks, too, sat on his hips.
But it was good to see Chris, to know that his light shone still. He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud, until Chris-not-Chris asked him, 'You've called me that before - who's Chris?'
Vin laughed. 'You are,' he replied.
Chris-not-Chris snorted, a sound of baffled exasperation. 'I can't hang around,' he said, 'I've got a pedophilic monster to catch.'
He didn't know what a 'pedophile' was, but he'd known many monsters intimately, and knows even now the sound of a man desperate to stop something terrible happening. He swung up on his horse, and gestured broadly to Chris. 'Then let's ride!'
Chris stared in astonishment at the black gelding that appeared at his side. He reached for the reins, and then hesitated, glancing at Vin.
This Chris didn't know how to ride, he realized. 'Put your left foot in the stirrup,' he instructed, 'grab onto the saddle horn there and pull yourself up, swing your other foot over his back.' The Chris before him had the same innate grace as his Chris, and mounting was accomplished with only a little awkwardness.
Buck came into the clearing then, calling for Larabee. He halted suddenly, hand on his gun in the rig that matched Chris's, in clothes that matched Chris's. Uniforms, Vin thought. Lawmen in this life, too, and the pride he felt in his friends nearly broke his heart. Buck was looking suspiciously at him.
"Who's your friend, Larabee?" he asked.
Vin gave him his best shit-eating grin.
"I need to go, Buck, we can get this guy," Chris said.
"With him?" Buck's voice was a strangled yelp.
"I'll explain later. Cover me," Chris said with a grim smile.
It was time to ride. "Yah!" Vin shouted at horse, heels to Peso's sides, feeling the glorious surge of muscle beneath him. Some part of this Chris must have remembered how to sit a horse, how to lean into the wind, because Chris had no trouble keeping up with him.
The dream-writing stops there, but as I was waking up, I had one more scene, I think of the modern-day descendents meeting up in Vin's burial cave. Vin's descendent has led them there, without ever having been in this section of the Black Hills before, because they need to hide from some kind of danger. Someone they're trying to track/ arrest/ bring down has temporarily turned the tables on them, and Vin's burial cave is the only place to hide.
I've(1) been going back and forth on what the descendents look like. I want them to have features of the originals, and most of the personality, but to be originals themselves, especially since half the time the stories are being 'told' from OW!Vin's point of view, during his spirit walks/ visions.
The 'kids' are:
(Chris reincarnated as) Vince Micheal Larabee, who likes to be called Mike or Micheal, has brown eyes, and is more muscular than OW!Chris.
(Vin reincarnated as) Christine Jane Tanner, likes to be called Chris, hazel/green eyes, dark brown hair. No curve in this girl's spine.
(Ezra reincarnated as) Leigh or Lee Standish (I haven't decided if this character is male or female, or even if it's a Li-derived name), imagine Ezra with a slight Asian cast to his face - almond-shaped eyes, perhaps, or a slightly 'flatter' look to his features.
(Buck reincarnated as) Obediah Wilmington, likes to be called Buck, no mustache, black eyes and olive-toned skin, giving him a more Latino look than the original.
Jackson, Sanchez, Dunne, I haven't made any decisions about yet. Half of me thinks JD the computer expert would be great as a girl, half of me thinks Nathan should be turned into a rubenesque natalie (who go through college on a full basketball scholarship, thank you very much ;) )
I've also been trying to figure out what the modern-day characters would be. I'm not sure Park Rangers would work, although it might. Possibly FBI, Reservation Police plus a local law enforcement group? I'm sure there's something I could come up with - including a private security firm a la Ranger from the Stephanie Plum novels.
The thing is, this universe has all sorts of mystic possibilities of the kind I love. I think the foundational story, which would be of the modern characters getting together, would be a great Big Bang story, but I'm fairly certain I don't have the time to write it this year. And also, I only have half a plot... plot is possibly my *worst* subject, when it comes to writing. But it's worth doing some more noodling...
(1) and by 'I've been thinking about', I mean, I've been trying to match the feelings and vague notions in last night's dreams to real, concrete words/ phrases/ names... some are easy, like 'Obediah Wilmington', some just aren't there at all, like poor Sanchez. Of course, maybe Josiah's ready for a long rest this time, and told Vin to go stick it in his ear. ;)
-bs
I'm in college, and I think, talking to
slavelabour. I say, 'The problem is, we need more 'destiny-fic', where the descendents of the guys are brought together. What happened to them, anyway?'Van says: 'I don't know, all we have is that poem.'
'Well, what does the poem say?'
'Four Courners faded away, Chris and Vin went out west to (somewhere), and when Chris died, he left Vin his land which looked out over the ocean.'
'But that's in California,' I say, already 5 steps ahead, because I'm thinking maybe the descendents are brought together on some kind of 'buried treasure' quest. 'And, well, that land is probably gone - the ocean's been eroding California pretty good for the past hundred years.'
So I'm thinking, while running around to college classes I don't know how to get to, in a city I've never seen. And finally I decide - maybe Chris leaves his land to Vin, but Vin doesn't want to stay there without Chris. Vin decided to go back to the midwest to live with the only family he's ever known, before the 7. He's the last of the 7, even though he's pretty young, still, maybe late 30s or early 40s. The tribe that took him in has been devistated by the white man, so he winds up joining a band of Sioux before they're rounded up to reservations, and just kind of 'fading' into the tribe. 'Vin Tanner' sort of 'ceases to exist', while he adapts to the Sioux ways. He's still there, just wrapped in an outer layer of 'Sioux warrior'. He marries a Sioux woman, and they have children, and he becomes quietly famous for having powerful medicine - possibly for being a good healer or shaman. On the reservation, he doesn't interact with the white men at all, but even when he does, he's all but unrecognizable as 'white'. When he's buried, neither he nor his tribe want the whites to know where his final resting place is, so they hide it, and pilgrimmage to the burial becomes a rite of passage for his descendents.
I like this, so I begin writing in my dreams, constructing a story. And I'm writing a story that takes place in a modern-day AU, and the focus is on modern!Chris, as seen from OW!Vin's point of view. See, I figure the more Vin immerses himself in Indian ways again, the more Vin has visions, which happen more and more frequently as he gets closer to death. So the story starts out like this:
The sun-dreams were becoming more frequent as his body succumbed more and more to these fevers. In his dream, he was in a field of tall prairie grass, waving golden in the late summer heat, stretching to every horizon. He waited, leaning against Peso, listening to crickets humming, birds chirping, watching a hawk lazily circle in the distance. He felt contentment, here. Knew the peace of eternal fellowship with his friends, wide-open sky, bright sun-kissed hay, and Chris.
For it was Chris who was in this meadow with him - the land-scape changing as it was wont to do in dreams. The grass became green, the air hazier, with a sour taint Vin didn't recall ever experiencing in Four Corners.
That town was gone now, faded into history like so much of his life. It had boomed under their care, his, Chris's, Buck's, Josiah's, Ezra's, Nathan's, and JD's. But it had been quickly deserted when the railroad had passed it by. With no people, and no interest, Vin was sure one of the ranchers had gobbled up the land and the buildings, and turned it back into grazing land for cattle.
He turned to Chris - not exactly his Chris, but his Chris all the same. He knew that, too, in the way of knowing one had in dreams. It helped, of course, that this Chris, though blond and lean, was more solid than his own, stronger and broader across the shoulders, with warm brown eyes, not hazel green. But he knew it was his Chris who looked out at the dusty road taking shape in front of them, leading off to the heavily forested hillside in front of them. His friend was looking oddly at him, and Vin realized he must look strange to the man, dressed in his beaded warrior's shirt, with feathers braided in his hair and paint upon his chin. Peso beside him had the western rig on, but he, too, was painted for war. He nodded to himself. He was here to fight by Chris's side once again.
This Chris-not-Chris looked strange to him, too, with his navy blue trousers, matching shirt, black tie - had his Chris ever worn a tie? He couldn't remember one. He wore a matching navy hat that was too thin to be much good against the soaking rain or blowing snow, and the brim that didn't do a damned thing to shade his eyes. His shoes were so highly polished they shone, and the strangest gun rig he'd ever seen, with holsters not just for a gun, but for handcuffs and sticks, too, sat on his hips.
But it was good to see Chris, to know that his light shone still. He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud, until Chris-not-Chris asked him, 'You've called me that before - who's Chris?'
Vin laughed. 'You are,' he replied.
Chris-not-Chris snorted, a sound of baffled exasperation. 'I can't hang around,' he said, 'I've got a pedophilic monster to catch.'
He didn't know what a 'pedophile' was, but he'd known many monsters intimately, and knows even now the sound of a man desperate to stop something terrible happening. He swung up on his horse, and gestured broadly to Chris. 'Then let's ride!'
Chris stared in astonishment at the black gelding that appeared at his side. He reached for the reins, and then hesitated, glancing at Vin.
This Chris didn't know how to ride, he realized. 'Put your left foot in the stirrup,' he instructed, 'grab onto the saddle horn there and pull yourself up, swing your other foot over his back.' The Chris before him had the same innate grace as his Chris, and mounting was accomplished with only a little awkwardness.
Buck came into the clearing then, calling for Larabee. He halted suddenly, hand on his gun in the rig that matched Chris's, in clothes that matched Chris's. Uniforms, Vin thought. Lawmen in this life, too, and the pride he felt in his friends nearly broke his heart. Buck was looking suspiciously at him.
"Who's your friend, Larabee?" he asked.
Vin gave him his best shit-eating grin.
"I need to go, Buck, we can get this guy," Chris said.
"With him?" Buck's voice was a strangled yelp.
"I'll explain later. Cover me," Chris said with a grim smile.
It was time to ride. "Yah!" Vin shouted at horse, heels to Peso's sides, feeling the glorious surge of muscle beneath him. Some part of this Chris must have remembered how to sit a horse, how to lean into the wind, because Chris had no trouble keeping up with him.
The dream-writing stops there, but as I was waking up, I had one more scene, I think of the modern-day descendents meeting up in Vin's burial cave. Vin's descendent has led them there, without ever having been in this section of the Black Hills before, because they need to hide from some kind of danger. Someone they're trying to track/ arrest/ bring down has temporarily turned the tables on them, and Vin's burial cave is the only place to hide.
I've(1) been going back and forth on what the descendents look like. I want them to have features of the originals, and most of the personality, but to be originals themselves, especially since half the time the stories are being 'told' from OW!Vin's point of view, during his spirit walks/ visions.
The 'kids' are:
(Chris reincarnated as) Vince Micheal Larabee, who likes to be called Mike or Micheal, has brown eyes, and is more muscular than OW!Chris.
(Vin reincarnated as) Christine Jane Tanner, likes to be called Chris, hazel/green eyes, dark brown hair. No curve in this girl's spine.
(Ezra reincarnated as) Leigh or Lee Standish (I haven't decided if this character is male or female, or even if it's a Li-derived name), imagine Ezra with a slight Asian cast to his face - almond-shaped eyes, perhaps, or a slightly 'flatter' look to his features.
(Buck reincarnated as) Obediah Wilmington, likes to be called Buck, no mustache, black eyes and olive-toned skin, giving him a more Latino look than the original.
Jackson, Sanchez, Dunne, I haven't made any decisions about yet. Half of me thinks JD the computer expert would be great as a girl, half of me thinks Nathan should be turned into a rubenesque natalie (who go through college on a full basketball scholarship, thank you very much ;) )
I've also been trying to figure out what the modern-day characters would be. I'm not sure Park Rangers would work, although it might. Possibly FBI, Reservation Police plus a local law enforcement group? I'm sure there's something I could come up with - including a private security firm a la Ranger from the Stephanie Plum novels.
The thing is, this universe has all sorts of mystic possibilities of the kind I love. I think the foundational story, which would be of the modern characters getting together, would be a great Big Bang story, but I'm fairly certain I don't have the time to write it this year. And also, I only have half a plot... plot is possibly my *worst* subject, when it comes to writing. But it's worth doing some more noodling...
(1) and by 'I've been thinking about', I mean, I've been trying to match the feelings and vague notions in last night's dreams to real, concrete words/ phrases/ names... some are easy, like 'Obediah Wilmington', some just aren't there at all, like poor Sanchez. Of course, maybe Josiah's ready for a long rest this time, and told Vin to go stick it in his ear. ;)
-bs
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Date: 2012-07-13 09:07 pm (UTC)i don't do well under the deadline pressure for this kind of thing: it tends to backfire and make me passive-aggressively procrastinate and then get resentful over it. but i've been thinking of doing it 'unofficially', just trying to do stuff on my own without committing to the big bang officially. that deals nicely with the pressure issue.
and also, if i happen to, i don't know *close on a house or something* in the middle of things, i won't feel guilty for not finishing. *snorts at House drama*.
but i'm going to make you an offer here - specifically because you were in my dream, and i want to let you/ encourage you to play with this idea - if you can't talk yourself out of the BB, feel free and encouraged to use this particular dream as a starting point, and don't worry too much about getting details 'right'. from Vin's point in the timeline, the future is 'malleable', so there's no telling if these things actually 'happen' or not.
but i know *i* would be honored if you took this idea and ran with it, even if your interpretations end up completely different than my own.
*hugs*
-bs