hadriel_logs | a day in the life; OTA!

Entry tags:

a day in the life; OTA!

Who: Pell and you!
What: gardening, clinic work, hanging at the speakeasy... whatever!
Where: his garden, the clinic, the speakeasy... wherever!
When: august 18th
Warnings: none right now, will warn in threads

i. a garden needs tending. and to not be full of furniture.

[ Pell's garden is on the riverbank, in a slightly less trafficked area near where it opens up into the lake. So while it's not exactly a spot folks are likely to pass while wandering Hadriel, it's visible from the bridge and Pell's there this morning, making a bit of a spectacle of himself. Why? Because the city has seen fit to drop furniture in the middle of it, and the strange table it's dropped between the broccoli and potatoes is too heavy for him to lift on his own.

Also, it's squashing things. He tries to lift it telekinetically but it takes so much focus that he's unable to push it off the garden bed once it's off the ground, and it crashes back down. He makes a low frustrated sound, kicking it... then curses because that hurt.

Perhaps someone would be kind enough to help? ]

ii. in hadriel, a healer's work is never done.

[ There are an awful lot of people coming in today having been hit on the head by falling furniture. It's a bit of a hassle, but easy enough for him to ease their pain and heal the bumps and bruises -- in one case there's a broken arm which takes a bit more doing, but he's getting better at bones as well. It's tiring, though, and he can be seen outside taking a smoke break in the mid-afternoon, leaning against the wall of the clinic. He lights the cigarette with just a flick of his finger, then tilts his head back and watches the smoke drift up and disperse.

Should someone come by now with an emergency, he'd dart back inside, but he's grateful right now for the quiet moment. ]

iii. and sometimes you just need a stiff drink.

[ That evening, instead of going home to the people he cares about, Pell goes to the speakeasy. He's texted Cal saying where he is, because it's likely that Beyond is back by now and they don't know he won't come after them again... but he really just wants a drink, and to forget about everything going on for a little while. It seems he isn't the only one. The speakeasy is crowded and he slips past strangers to get to the bar, asks the person tending tonight for whatever wine they have and settles on a stool to nurse it and people-watch.

That's something he's always liked doing, when he gets the opportunity. He recognizes very few of the faces that pass but it's more interesting to watch others mingle than it is to stare into his glass, and as he nears the bottom of his first drink he feels his spirits lifting a bit. People are smiling. Chatting over the music. Dancing to it. Even here, even knowing the horrors, they're able to let go a bit.

Despite what he's been through the past month, it makes him feel hopeful. He turns and signals for another drink, but now there's a faint smile on his face. ]

iv. wildcard!

[ hmu @

cuddlebug or just write your own prompt! ]

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[The sight of one (1) Gilbert Beilschmidt approaching the clinic isn't anything new. Neither is him all beaten and bloody from fighting monsters in the caves for a few days until he stumbles back out again. What's different this time is that he's dragging with him the corpse of one of those war crabs that had been around the coliseum earlier this month. Those things weigh hundreds of pounds, but he's pulling it along like it's not much of a hassle. Okay, maybe he's a little out of breath, but despite that and his injuries, he's grinning.

When he sees someone standing outside the clinic, naturally he has to turn on the machismo. He leaves the corpse of the crab a few feet away as he gets to Pell and the clinic itself.]

Surprise! I caught somethin' today. Might be good for scrap metal or somethin'. Also there might be grenades in there somewhere.

[ Oh hey it's that guy. Pell recognizes Gilbert, of course, even remembers his name and the placement of his scars from healing him before. He grinds his cigarette out and eyes the crab, smiling despite himself. The good cheer is catching. ]

True, there might be something useful inside. Do you have the means to open it up?

[ And as Gilbert comes closer he's sizing up the extent of his injuries. Mentally tallying the supplies he'll need vs what he can just heal. He holds the door open for the man as he heads back inside, tilting his head towards the nearest cot. Up you go, friend. ]

It lobbed a grenade at me, so maybe that wasn't its last one.

[He shakes his head no at the question as he follows Pell inside.] I broke my damn sword trying to kill it. I thought maybe some crafty-type might have a way to salvage it. Y'know, if it's worth saving.

[When he first started coming to the clinic, Gil definitely was reluctant to get fixed up, and claimed that he was too awesome and too tough, and he didn't need that much help. He's been here long enough now to know better than to argue with the clinic workers. Instead he now covers it up by slapping a grin on his face and acting like it was all nothing at all. Ego is a weird thing.

There's nothing too life-threatening, but there does seem to be one problem. Some of his older injuries, which should have been healed up by now, are still around. They're not infected and it seems like he'd been taking care of them, though.]

Most of the monsters around aren't even worth eatin'. At least these ones might be good for something.

Lucky there are more swords at the armory. And enough people around there's a chance someone can get inside.

[ Pell hums in a disapproving-but-doctorly fashion at the older wounds. Good that Gilbert's been taking care of them, and that whoever patched him up last time did a good job -- it's easy enough for Pell to heal him all of the way now, his fingers prodding gently and a warm tingling sensation spreading from where he touches. He just tilts his head curiously at the fact that they're still around in the first place. ]

Have you been feeling alright? [ He asks casually, as he gets the small scissors to cut the stitches from an older cut he just healed up. ] Well enough to go crab hunting, obviously, but these should have been ready to come out on their own by now.

Huh? Yeah, sure. [It's only for a moment that he isn't sure what Pell is talking about. Then he tries to cover, poorly.]

Oh. Wh-What? No, they're fine. Look! [He points at the stitches that Pell had just removed.] See? Good as new. Trust me, I've been through way worse than these little scrapes 'n cuts.

Gilbert, I just healed that because it wasn't healing on its own.

[ It's a gentle enough correction and he doesn't sound bothered. Just keeps working, finding the next gash and cleaning it carefully before healing. ]

I don't actually mind patching you up, I'm just a little worried.

...Oh.

[He doesn't want anyone to worry about him. He laughs suddenly, playing it off again.]

Really, it's nothing! It's-- just a long story, okay? But if they're healing up fine, that's the important part. Monsters aren't gonna slay themselves, so I guess it's just a job hazard.

[It's always a long story, isn't it?]

I've got time for a long story.

[ It's said gently; he's not pushing to find out... it's not like Gilbert wasn't taking care of the wounds. If he'd gotten an infection Pell would be much firmer with him. ]

I never asked... are you in the guard, or is this just something you do on your own?

Yeah, I'm in the Guard. But I'd be doin' this anyway. It's fun, and gives me something to do. Keeps me in shape. [He's not very good at being a Guard anyway. He's friends with Sato, for example.

It's not that he doesn't like telling people about how he's a nation. It's just that it's an understandably tough thing for normal folks to wrap their head around. But most folks in Hadriel weren't normal. Pell wasn't.]

Okay, long story short is... I'm not human. Not-- I kinda am but not really.

[He can't exactly blame Pell for wanting a drink after all the shit that's happened over the last few weeks. They'd gotten complacent, too comfortable around the humanity that surrounded them. He'd been part of the problem, too, encouraging the damn har, keeping him alive when he should have smothered him. And too late to do anything about it now. Seel had killed him, maybe he'd learned his lesson. He doubted it, but it was possible.

He hesitated, too, before he followed after Pell, sliding into the speakeasy after him but staying out of sight at first. He watched until Pell started smiling and then he moved up behind him and slid his arms around the har's waist. At least he was feeling better, it seemed.]

Have you been sufficiently distracted?

[ Pell hasn't forgiven himself for that error in judgment that let a murderer run free, even if only for a brief time. Even if no one got hurt. They could have. And that would have been on him. He's already spoken to Henry about the fact that said murderer, already identified, wasn't being watched at all, but the whole althaia incident... that was just his own poor judgment. He feels sick over it, feels guilty facing Seel and doesn't want to be at home right now. But the drink helps, the crowd helps, and by the time Cal moves in and wraps arms around him he's relaxed enough to lean back against the other har. Pell turns his head into Cal's neck and closes his eyes for a moment. ]

For now. I'd like another, if you're up for staying out a bit.

[ He always feels safe with Cal around, even knowing it's simply not true. Knowing he died under Cal's watch once already. But between the arms around him and the buzz of the crowd, he doesn't think they're in danger at the moment. ]

For you? Anything. [He presses his lips against Pell's temple briefly, before he releases him and sits down in the seat next to him and grabbing his hand instead.]

Anything in particular?

[ Pell tangles their fingers automatically, holding on to Cal, savoring the open bond between them. How he can sense his chesna more clearly like this than he can hear or see him, in the dim light and noise of the speakeasy. It's reassuring and familiar. ]

Just the same. They have wine right now.

[ They don't always. Pell misses Delight's bar with its consistency.

He glances back out at the crowd as Cal gets them more to drink, and a thought occurs to him. ]

Do you dance, Cal?

What a question. [He hands Pell his glass first before he sips from his, never letting go of Pell's hand. Even after so long here, he was still surprised, sometimes, that he was still alive, that Cal even could hold his hand anymore.]

Not for a long time. If I ever did at all. There was neither call nor time for it before.

[ Being alive is a good thing, especially right now. Pell's very appreciative of that. He takes a drink and smiles up at Cal, helpless not to. ]

Maybe we should try sometime. I've never had cause to attempt it, myself.

[He always does love seeing that smile. Even more so now that he'd never take it for granted again.]

Perhaps we should. There's certainly time for it now.

And place.

[ Another drink of wine and a little shake of his head. ]

Hmm, I'm not drunk enough to keep from being self-conscious. Probably soon, though.

You're too pretty to be self conscious. [He teases, but he does believe that it's true, too.] Should I keep the drinks coming, then?

Even the most beautiful can make a fool of themselves. For now, yes. It helps with other thoughts, as well.

[ He strokes his thumb against the side of Cal's, thoughtful. ]

Do you think it was the wrong call to make, with what I knew at the time?

With that other har? No. You couldn't possibly have known better. Both of us tried to help and he made the decision on his own to disregard that to make whatever point he was trying to. [He still hasn't told Pell how close he himself came to being another victim of his insanity.]

You tried, Pell. It was more than he deserved, but you couldn't have seen the future.

Perhaps I should have seen the present. Who he really was. I endangered the whole city.

[ He closes his eyes for a moment, then puts down his wine to pull out his cigarettes. He doesn't need his hand back -- it lights as he inhales. ]

Seel certainly blames me.

He blames me too, and if past history is anything to go on, he'll forgive you long before he forgives me. I knew that har killed him and I helped him anyway. You didn't.

I did, he just said that it was hunger driving him mad that made him do it, I thought he was some sort of vampire and he's... an excellent liar, I suppose.

Exactly. You did what you could with the information at hand. It's hardly your fault he took advantage of confusion and trust.

Seel said it was his and Orien's fault that I see only the best in people, at first. They should have taught me to be harder. But it feels more like... just a part of me. You've always been the wary one.

Don't bring yourself down to my level. You belong in the sky.

Your level is reality, and I need to exist there. He could kill again, and it'll be my fault.

How are his choices your fault?

Oh!

[Delmar has always had a penchant for long walks. In fact it was his routine every morning and evening to take long strolls along Rockaway to see the light falling across the ocean. So though he can find no beautiful stretch of beach here in the cave, he finds he must still follow his feet. This is how he's come to stand on the bridge, and how he has subsequently spotted a young person seemingly struggling with a...table?]

Hello?! [He calls out, timidly beginning to head in that direction, though he shyly clutches a book to his chest as meager defense just in case.]

Oh...excuse me! Do you, um, do you need some help?

[ Pell glances up when someone calls out, on high alert these days. His hand twitches towards his weapon until his eyes land on the stranger, read his body language and the way he's clutching his book and stumbling over his words. And then he gets closer.

...this guy looks an awful lot like Rosen.

It's uncanny, really. Pell blinks in confusion, then shakes it off. ]

I do, if you'd be so kind. I can lift it a bit but not push at the same time. It's extremely heavy... I worry some of my plants aren't going to make it.

[Delmar is now close enough to be able to see the situation clearly and his eyes go wide in horror at the sight of the heavy table pushing down on young sprouts of growth.]

How awful! Of course I will help you.

[Hurrying the last few steps he pauses only to find a decent place to set down his book before moving to Pell's side, awaiting instruction]

What would you like me to do?

Edited 2017-08-19 00:08 (UTC)

Do you need a hand?

[Ignis had seen him from the bridge, and at first it had seemed that the situation with the table was well in hand... until it crashed back down on the plants and he was witness to a clear display of frustration. At that, he had made his way down the bank, close enough to call out but no nearer than that.

You really never knew with these things, after all.]

[ It's for the best that Ignis doesn't come too close uninvited right now, anyway, with what the hara have been through. But Pell glances up to see the stranger and nods in relief. He does need a hand. Perhaps several. Perhaps a forklift, if he knew what that was to request one. ]

If you have a minute? It's extremely heavy. Basically a half a boulder right in my garden.

[ He rakes some stray hairs out of his face and manages a smile for Ignis. ] If you could just push?

[The smile - 'managed' as it is - gets a small one in return and Ignis closes the rest of the distance along the bank. He gives the table a speculative look. It would be pretty, almost, if it wasn't for the unfortunate positioning.]

Of course, though we may benefit from some extra leverage.

[No harm in trying the simple way for now. He puts his weight to the table, ready to push when told to.]

Hopefully you'll be able to manage it if I can get it off the ground again.

[ He's tired and stressed and it's affecting his abilities, but he nods to Ignis and focuses sharply, and the table does rise up shakily. It's clearly a strain for the har, and will still be heavy for Ignis to push. ]

[Questions about the telekinesis can come later. Ignis puts his shoulder to the heavy table, and though it is incredibly heavy, it slowly begins to move. The young man lets out a muted grunt of exertion and almost loses his footing, but steadies himself to get the job over with as quickly as possible.

Honestly, this is not what he saw himself doing with his day.]

[George has been making a habit of helping Pell with the garden since moving in, but today she overslept a little (okay, a lot) and is just now making it there. she just sort of. stands at the edge of the garden and staaaaaaaaares at the table]

...yeah, you're gonna need help with that.

Edited 2017-08-19 01:50 (UTC)

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a day in the life; OTA!

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