AUGUST LOG | OPEN TO ALL + 1 CLOSED

[unitas]

Who: Sharon da Silva, Mello, and maybe you!
What: Memorial tending, mattress suffocation, and poor singing.
Where: EVERYWHERE
When: All of August, with much wiggle room.
Warnings: Sharon has the mouth of the sailor.

▍▍▍▍EARLY AUGUST | MEMORIAL GARDEN

[ People come. People go. It's just the way Hadriel has always been. Just when you think you've found someone you've lost, or you've loved, or you've fallen for, they're taken from you as if they were things underserved. It's true, few deserve to suffer the ills of this place, but the pain doesn't just quit with that knowledge; it festers and lingers and sometimes she dreams of certain people whose features are turning into a blur.

Today, Sharon is at the small memorial garden that Glacius and her had set up. Her fingers are in the dirt and then she slams a simple white stick into the ground, packing in the dirt around it. She pulls tiny things from her bag, mostly toys, and sets them around it. With black paint and a steady hand, she writes NEAR and places a folded pieced of paper beneath one of the many toys, her own goodbye.

People come. People go. And no one ever really gets used to it.

It's possible to encounter Sharon tending to other simple markers, sprucing up flowers, or adjusting special items that have been tipped over. There's nearly a marker for every single person who has left and gone, and those who have returned have been pulled out, laid aside with hope that it won't return to its resting place again. ]

▍▍▍▍ II. AUGUST | ANY CITY BENCH | ANY TIME

[ It's just another day, whether the Door is flipping its shit or not. Sharon's on one of the benches, legs crossed beneath her, back hunched, blonde hair obscuring her features. Her attention is entirely on the book in the front of her. It's not much larger than a paperback novel but it's thick, with pieces of paper stuffed in. On every page, there are faces, familiar or otherwise, and passersby are free to notice a friend or themselves on the page.

This is her book of people. The people she's grown to care for, to love, to enjoy, to hate, and admire. They're all there. Some have more sketches than others. Special pieces are folded in half, hidden. There's one she drew while Mello slept, his features softened. Cecily with a wide grin, and Kate on top of a roof she shouldn't have climbed in the first place.

Should anyone come to take a seat, she'll immediately scoot over, offering more room but shielding her notebook. Sorry, she's paranoid. ]

▍▍▍▍ III. NORTHERN BRIDGE | LATE AT NIGHT

[ Another nightmare. Another night where she can't fall back to sleep. In an attempt to not keep Mello up, she slips out of their house (their house has a ring to it she has trouble getting used to). She slips her knife into her knee high boots, pops on a hoodie, and heads out. At first, she just walks. Her legs tire quickly.

She's just so fucking tired.

She reaches the northern most bridge and leans against it, looking over it at the water below. Eventually, she climbs onto the banister and lets her feet dangle over the edge. She starts to hum quietly, some song she'd heard a long time ago, and eventually, the lyrics come out. She does not sing loudly and she's off beat on occasion, missing a note or two, but there's heavy meaning to what she sings. ]

A letter to my future self, 'Am I still happy?' I began [ Her reflection in the water looks nothing like she used to. Will Rose recognize really one day? She continues ] Have I grown up pretty? Is daddy still a good man?

[ She stops, something in her heart aching. She sings each verse, some more emotional than others as she watches this stranger in the water ] Ten years ago your past self-prayed for your happiness. Please, don't lose hope.

[ Why couldn't she be a kid again? Anyone is free to come by, to listen, or to even mock the notes she misses. ]

▍▍▍▍ IV. SORROW'S A BITCH | CLOSED TO MELLO | HOUSE 07

[ The event has been nothing thus far for Sharon. She found a nice chair for the living room and that's always great, not that she expects strangers to come and make an appearance; this is just her and him and it's unlikely she's about to spill where she's staying, for his sake and her own. And the cat doesn't seem to mind it too much if they way he's claimed it is any indication.

It's early morning and Sharon has wrapped herself around Mello, one leg drapped over his, nestling herself against him. It's been a good night. No nightmares. No screams. No sleep paralysis or sleep-walking. It's been such a good night that she nestles into him more, pressing her lips against his neck, breathing him in and enjoying such a small moment. It's really too bad that moment is destroyed.

Demolished.

Or, more accurately, crushed by a queen size foam mattress topper. ]

Fucking hell [ are the only words Sharon manages to get out as she tries to disentangle herself from her lover and murder the person who thought dropping mattress toppers on people was a great plan. Fucking gods and Doors. ]

Comments

memorial garden

[dedikated]

( The memorial garden feels surreal, knowing what she now knows. That it was, in part, set up because of her. Because she got dragged back home for three years, however many months that was. Her marker may be gone, as a... celebration? Can it be called that? of her return, but that explanation doesn't just disappear.

Kate steps carefully through the area, near-silent, almost as efficient in her movements as she is when fighting. Not quite, because there's no need to be so quick, but close. She finds Sharon while she's fixing some tipped over item for a vanished person, standing just in front of her, hands clasped behind her back as she leans against a tree. )

Think we should make one for th' previous residents?

( Hey, Sharon. )

[unitas]

As in the 'ones that came before' or did I forget a few names from the beginning? [ She responds with only slight sass as she straightens up. It's strange to see Kate back but she can't help be a little glad for the often brightly colored woman. ]

[dedikated]

( With the amount of people who've come through here for the shortest times, or those who may have stayed to themselves, it's likely there are names missing. Kate definitely can't remember every single person she met here last time. )

Them who came before.

( Whatever they're supposed to be. The actual residents of this cave. )

Seems weird that this were their home and there's nothing to say they existed.

( Except destroyed buildings and hedge-y gods. But this isn't about that. It's about realising that having that space to remember that her family were real, were part of this world, was important at home, and even in the weird sleepy town version of this city.

Maybe it's overly sentimental, or the kind of shit Faith would do, but they deserve something to say they were real. )

[unitas]

[ Sharon doesn't appear keen in on the idea, one brow rising up, questioning. ]

We didn't know them. What am I supposed to write on the marker,"You'll never be forgotten, strange hosts of the gods that keep us"?

[dedikated]

"Wish you were here"?

( It's a half wryly-said joke, half-serious. If they were here, none of the current residents would be. They'd be home, none the wiser. )

Don't have to write anything. Just their names.

II. AUGUST | ANY CITY BENCH | ANY TIME

[toiletseat_girl]

[George hasn't seen Sharon since the god event (and doesn't even know her name is Sharon), so when George sees her out and about, of course she's going to approach her. sideways. awkwardly. she likes her and thinks that she's cool, honest, but awkward clings to George like a barnacle. but she sits next to her regardless and doesn't try to look at her notebook. that would be rude]

Uh. Hey. Good to see you again. You know, when it's not a crazy god induced Pleasantville clone.

[unitas]

[ Sharon doesn't realize anyone is approaching until George sits and Sharon looks up, mildly startled. Oh! It's Jo's sister. Or was Jo's sister when the gods decided they'd needed new lives. She shuts the sketch journal but not so quickly as if it's meant to be hidden. ]

Hey, George, right? I'm... I'm Sharon da Silva. [ She flinches slightly when she gives the younger girl her name, or her 'real' name here. ] It's good to see you again, too.

[toiletseat_girl]

[George smiles nervously. interacting with people is hard for her, but she's trying to make an effort. and she thinks that this person is worth the effort]

That's right. George Lass for the whole introduction thing. It's good to meet you, y'know, properly.

[tries for a small laugh]

I take it that late night graffiti runs are out?

[unitas]

Nah, I could still use the company when I paint. [ A pause and then: ] I paint, sketch, that kind of shit. Always have. I guess my other self took that and ran with it.

[toiletseat_girl]

Awesome. Count me in. [looks impressed] Huh. That's pretty cool. You've got talent, might as well use it. And if it helps liven this place up a little, that's a bonus.

Memorial Garden

[knifecollecting]

[Jo is here to pull out a marker or two. She doubts Dean will come to the garden, if he ever even hears about it, but for now she doesn't want him to learn that Sam had been here before, with Dean. Or Castiel either, so she's stashing the markers she had made for the trio in her messenger bag. She spots Sharon and waits until the girl is looking up before she waves.]

Hey.

[unitas]

[ She catches the lengths of the markers in Jo's bag and straightens up with her own slow wave before she gestures to Jo's messenger bag. ]

Someone come back?

[knifecollecting]

Yeah. [She glances off to the side, looking (and feeling) a little guilty. Only one of these people were back.]

Dean showed up again.

[unitas]

[ Sharon hesitates and then asks: ] Any memories? Or fresh start?

[knifecollecting]

Fresh start. [And she still hasn't decided if that makes this all easier or not.]

Are you here just to visit?

iv.

[torrefied]

[Mello has never been able to sleep well, or for very long - his brain refuses to shut down until exhaustion forces it, and a long-cultivated sense of hypervigilance makes relaxation nearly impossible.

Sleeping with Sharon is different. Sleeping with Sharon is calming, quiets his mind. Mello sleeps better with her than he does on his own.

Usually, anyway. Having a mattress-sized block of foam dropped on you is one hell of a rude way to wake up - which he does, jerking into consciousness, heart pounding, disoriented.]

What the - ?!

[Nah, he's not even gonna finish that. It doesn't take a genius intellect to figure out that the gods are back on their bullshit again. Whatever just got dropped on them is too big for anyone else to manage, and besides, they're half underground and all doors and windows are secure. With a frustrated groan, he rubs a hand over his eyes and settles back against the pillow - yes, from underneath the foam.]

This place is bullshit.

[unitas]

And they always wonder why I want to eviscerate them so often. [ Sharon almost yells in return but, even with some force behind it, it's softened and cushioned by the mattress topper. She unentangles herself from Mello and begins to shove the topper off of them and towards her end of the bed. It's not the easiest thing to move when you're half asleep and as she shoves, something hits the floor as the foam topper slides off of them, resting at an odd angle against the floor and Sharon's side.

She kicks it for good measure and her disappointment shows when her kick just leaves a small dent that slowly puffs back out to its normal shape. ]

They're trying to kill us with furniture now. [ Which fucking god thought this was a good idea? ]

[torrefied]

[Confusion's the most likely culprit, but it's too early to think about this, really. Sorry he's useless at helping move the foam, Sharon.]

If they really wanted to kill us, they would've dropped something heavier ... or more pointed.

[Said from underneath the arm he has slung over his face.]

Is it raining anything else?

[unitas]

[ God, Mello, could you have been more of help here? She leans towards him, finding a smile on her face as he watches him. The topper might go well in a guest room so it's not all bad. When he asks if it's raining anything else, she climbs over him, in a simple loose nightshirt and panties and peeks out the closest window. ]

Well...

There's a chair in our lawn that I didn't put there and I'm sure you didn't and I think... that's a closet that's been melted in half. What the fuck? [ She looks back to him. ]

Confusion?

[torrefied]

[He's not good at waking up, OK. Especially not when it's this kind of weird, abrupt awakening.]

Probably.

[He answers her from under his arm, then slowly sighs and moves it off his face, blinking his eyes open to the sight of her. He really doesn't care a whole lot about which god is responsible for the bullshit this time; it's always one of them, and they take turns. So far, this is relatively harmless, as far as god bullshit goes. But if there's no immediate danger, there's something more important they could be doing. Mello pinches the hem of her shirt between his fingers and gives it a gentle tug.]

Hey. C'mere.

memorial garden

[closerift]

[ It's no wonder to find Sharon here, considering that she and Glacius had come up with the concept themselves. Cecily hesitates near the entrance, not quite wanting to disturb her friend, and not quite wanting to be in another person's company at the moment... but she enters after some deliberation, settling near the markers made for Cullen, Dorian, Leliana, and Thom with Pup lying down next to her. ]

Hope I'm not disturbing you. [ She speaks up lightly. ] I just thought - mm. I don't come here enough.

[ She has her own ways of grieving the 'losses,' after all. ]

[unitas]

It's not like I come here to mourn. I just... tidy up, make sure the names don't fade, things like that. [ Like Cecily, Sharon mourns in her own way—in ways that are detrimental to her health but it just works for her. ]

It's weird, right? It's like a graveyard of people not dead, just gone. I don't want to forget them, you know?

[closerift]

It is. And... I know. [ She doesn't think she could ever forget those people-... But, even as this occurs to her, she remembers the wine shop, the neighborhood watch, and scoffs darkly. ] We lose memories in this - unnatural way. It's cruel.

[ What if they're already forgetting something, even in the 'normal' Hadriel, and they just don't realize? Silently, she reviews the list of those lost from home, and is confident enough that she can recall them all... ]

What can I do to help? [ The Inquisitor asks, if only to distract her own mind. ]

[unitas]

[ Cruel seems to just be another word for Hadriel to them. The city gives them bits of goodness, bits of things to bring out the delight, the hope, the tranquility, but then that's all swept under the rug when the other deities come into play. The whole thing is just. Cruel.

At the question, she takes a quick look around. Upkeep can be a handful after events. Things get knocked down or away or stolen as if it were something lost to be found by them. ]

Uh, could you make sure everything looks right around the markers? Shit gets knocked over sometimes. You know this place.

[closerift]

Of course. [ She isn't about to let this place go to ruin because there isn't enough help to keep it running. ] Anything that you need.

[ And so she goes about her work, though there isn't as much to do, thankfully. The memorial remains relatively in tact, at least for now. ]

It feels as if we've been here for... for forever, sometimes, doesn't it?