Phil Connors (
goodweather) wrote in
come_sailaway2023-08-06 02:26 pm
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Entry tags:
a drowsy wind blows [open]
Who: Phil and friends
What: Post-excursion things, hanging about
When: Post-excursion & through August; John’s, ice sculpting, Spring mantle swag
Where: Around
Warnings: Possible references to injury, drowning, etc. from the event; will label as needed
What: Post-excursion things, hanging about
When: Post-excursion & through August; John’s, ice sculpting, Spring mantle swag
Where: Around
Warnings: Possible references to injury, drowning, etc. from the event; will label as needed
i. we vacantly gaze on the infinity of waves
[for darcy]Once he chokes down the panic attack, he's on his feet. At least the cabins aren't so far from the infirmary.
It’s a blessing that Security and Darcy are cabin neighbors. He stops by Security’s since it’s first in the hall, but—sounds like there’s already company, and the cabins aren’t big. And Darcy was the one that was losing his mind. So he shoots a text, and knocks at Darcy’s door.
“You there, Darts?”
ii. and the cadence of our gaze
[for security]The text:
I came by but your cabin seems to be full as it is. I didn’t want to crowd you, but I’m not far.
Tell me when you want me and I’ll come when I can. Busy morning.
iii. becomes our thoughts among the waves
[for erin]The text comes two days after everyone comes back. It takes him three hours to send.
Hey, hope you’re doing okay. Let me know if you need anything.
Also, can we talk? Heavy topic. Just a lot of feelings.
And he meant to write more, but he doesn’t know what else he could possibly say off the bat.
iv. and i thought i could just dip my toes in
[for CR]The day they come back is rather squarely dedicated to his closest, but when he can, texts are sent out to those he knows.
Checking in?
v. didn't think i'd lose my soul
[john's]He’s there in John’s, like he always is. The pauses are a little longer between pieces for the first two weeks or so, more labored, but he plays just as well as he always has.
He’s also scribbling on his book a lot more, but that’s just because of this month’s repertoire.
vi. in this silver asylum
[kitchen]Someone has put up a sign saying “Do Not Disturb” on the door of the kitchen’s walk-in freezer. This is because Phil had amassed many many ice cubes, and is busy at work fusing them together with his frost powers and carving an ice sculpture of a swan.
This is likely in poor taste, but the kitchen freezer is the only place he can do this without it melting immediately on him. If someone walks in anyway, he’s just gonna look up and say, “Sorry, did you need something?”
vii. but i let myself disappear
[around]And any time else, he’s at his usual haunts: the library, the lounge, et cetera, doing any manner of reading or painting or such. It’s not very unusual, except that the keen-eyed might notice that his waking hours have gotten slightly more regular.
And if they are that keen, then they’ll notice something else: he has one more shadow than he should.
When the ship lights are dim or he’s walking around in the evening, the picture is clearer. There’s a strange light that’s cast across him, a dim and orange in glow that shifts and sometimes disappears as though he were passing under rows of old electric street lamps, casting an additional shadow to however many he has at the moment. The air seems to warm or chill whether one stands on the side of his light or his shadow, but it’s not a true temperature. More like a feeling. The end of the night verses the waking dawn, maybe.
The Lost will recognize it for what it is: a Spring mantle, awake at last.
iv. oh, lull me to sleep, oh, opium vacant waves
[wildcard][ any other ideas? hmu!!!! ]
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A beat. “A mixed bag. Some of us believe in sustaining until we can find a proper way out. Some think we’re just being sheep. Some would rather see everything collapse and bring the Captain down with them, or just find a way to kill him entirely, no matter what. But that’s not a choice you can take back, and they don’t get to make that call.”
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~If they threaten Helena with their stupidity I will hunt them, and hunt them, and hunt them, and hunt them, and they will come to understand that true horror was not yet known to their vermin minds. I will not see her becoming or mine undone.~
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"You wouldn't be the only one. There's plenty of us here for whom this place is a gift and a shelter." Ava comes to mind. "And only a few times has anybody tried anything. But if you want to keep this place intact until we find a way to free ourselves, you'll have to defend the Captain--not that he's helpless by any means--and not mess with any... sigils or magic you find aboard. Not without asking him or Friday first, but who's to say how helpful they'll be."
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She looks back up at Phil, and then points at it. ~This is a kind of sigil?~
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“Depends. It’s certainly a symbol. Does it mean something? Does it do anything?”
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He hovers over the salt for a moment, then gives up. "I can't draw them for you, unfortunately. I didn't see them and the person who did can't communicate them to us. But I'm sure you'd be able to recognize a funny magical-looking sign drawn onto the ship."
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He knows about her only tangentially, honestly; he only has this kind of fidelity from just seeing her out and about for ages.
“I’m always here if you might want a bit of advice. No guarantee it’ll be good,” he chuckles, “but I’ve gotta use my years for something.”
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wrap?
“… Yes. Everyone here, all our conflicts—they’re just bringing what they know. What they figured out, how to survive whatever they saw. I figured you were the same.” He grasps her hand. “… Thank you, Grace.”