you keep asking why your work is not enough [open]

[goodweather]

Who: Phil & friends
What: Village aftermath. Oh Brother
When: dec 24th through the rest
Where: infirmary, john's, bobby b's, others
Warnings: for the first header, village-typical horror; namely forced amputation and medical abuse, drugging, blood, discussion of patricide



i. because it is enough to exist in the world [infirmary, closed to darcy] (cw: blood, probably discussion of patricide, drugging, forced amputation, medical abuses)

Phil heaves awake in a cot in a medical room. The pain is gone; a frantic grabbing reveals that his wings are back, heavy and solid, and he is in a medical room sitting in a cot, and there is still a badge on him, and he is in a medical room sitting in a cot with his wings still intact, and it doesn't matter that blood coats his neck and all the back of his head because all he can think is oh God not again, please not again, not again, not again, not again, not again.

When Darcy finds him, he's staring down at his lap, breath coming deep and fast and about two inches from outright dry heaving, gripping the sheets.

ii. and marvel at it [texts]

Texts go out to those he knows. Ava, Tayrey, Cass, Erin, Dimitri too; anyone close enough to him he can think of, on or off the excursion.

Alright?

iii. you don't need to justify that [atrium] (closed to venom)

He needs to find it. Needs to be with his friend again, needs to feel its comfort and its strength around him again, so bodily and intrinsic as it was, and he needs to feel a comfort deeper than kind words and a firm hug. He needs to know that he's safe. He isn't safe on his own.

As soon as there's time, he rushes into the atrium, the most open crossroads-point on the ship, and tries to listen for it.

iv. or earn it [john's]

For all that talk about the orchestra in the Village, he hasn't actually seen or touched a piano in a month. He's got to be so rusty by now.

He tries to slip back into it, but something in his head is all wrong; the notes are just fine, sure, if a little rough, but the colors, the musicality, it's gone. That's fine, he tells himself. Nothing a bit of practicing and relistening to his betters won't fix. Practice always fixes things. If you work at it long enough, mind the right techniques, it will happen. Has to happen.

He practices. Practices for hours. It's not pretty, but it's work, good work. He missed good work.

v. you are allowed to just live [around] (cw: compulsivity)

Phil and Darcy cannot be found without the other for all of Christmas Eve and into Christmas proper.

After that, though, he wanders, attempts to fall back into his routine. He reads, in the library or in a seat beneath the signposts; takes his coffee from Sand Dollars; eats decent food from the buffet like he hasn't had a full stomach in months; attempts to draw, sometimes. And preens.

... Preens a lot, actually. Too much. It borders on compulsive, how much and how aggressively he goes at it sometimes, leaving his feathers ragged and torn. Complete opposite of what he's supposed to be doing but he can't seem to stop. He can't stop touching his wings, always digging his fingers through the quills, feeling that they're there at all and there's no pain that wasn't his fault. Over and over. Real, there, real. Staying. Every mark he leaves, every barb he breaks, every quill he accidentally pulls out or snaps--his actions have consequences and they stay. Good. Good.

vi. that is all most animals do [bobby b's]

More than once, Phil drags himself into the cigar and whiskey bar. Heaves over to the counter to order a drink, slogs into a chair to cut a cigar, and just.

Sits. Stares at the same spot on the wall for the next hour until he's done.

vii. wildcard

(( got other ideas? lmk! ))

Comments

[goodweather]

[ Frankly, his age is less a point about any kind of authority (he took forty years to make a single friend, what kind of "authority" does he have) and more about the followup: I'm so tired. ]

Yes. You're right and I apologize. We're both not fit for much of anything right now. I'd be surprised if we were.

And yes, I'd still like to speak later. I want to do what I can to help out.

If nothing else: are you familiar with Earth teas? There's some in the cafe. Chamomile's good for stress.

[astrogator]

There's no need to apologize. You're allowed to think and write whatever you want, whether I agree or not. Back home we'd say the freedoms we protect include the freedom for people to say how much they hate the Tradelines. Honestly, no harm done.

I'm going to stay in my cabin until I'm ready for company again, which might be a while, but I'll look for that tea someday. For now I have enough provisions.

I know trying to talk you out of helping people is a lost cause but someone told me an Earther saying once. Put on your own oxygen tank first? Take care of yourself too.

[goodweather]

[ That’s very… no, generous is the wrong word to use. Kind? … Magnanimous?????? What’s gonna make sense to her… ]

That’s very fair of you. Thank you.

All right. Keep safe. You always know where to find me if you need me.

And believe it or not, helping others is part of how I help myself. I like knowing that the people around me are being supported.

[ It is very much a lost cause. Sorry, Tayrey. ]

[astrogator]

[Fair, yes. She'll accept that. Appreciate it. Of course what it really amounts to is an angry, sweary, hurt individual remembering herself and where she is and switching back to Proper Tradeliner mode. But this is Tayrey. That's a good sign.]

You're welcome. Same to you.

Make sure you've got support too is all I'm saying.

[goodweather]

You too.

Safe skies, Lieutenant.

several days later

[astrogator]

I'm going to apologize.
I told you I was angry and I should have stopped right there. Some of what I wrote wasn't too polite in Company Standard, so if it translated that way, I'm sorry.

[She's sorry for the anger and the swearing because someone in her position should do better - but not for what she believes, and not for the limits of the sympathy she has for people who volunteer for horrendous things to happen to them.]

I'm not angry now. I don't know if he benefits from anger the way he does from pure distress, but I shut it down anyway. Not taking that chance.

[goodweather]

I don't think you did any wrong by me, but forgiven anyway. I apologize too. I got frustrated and wordy. Which doesn't usually help.

[ ... Near as he can tell, any emotion is there for harvest, same as Erin and her Glamour, but that's not exactly a productive line of conversation when Ari just wants to starve out the Captain's resources. ]

I still don't think I'm in any good shape. I'll still be on patrol and I'm there if you need an extra pair of hands but otherwise I'm down for the count.

[astrogator]

[Ari suspects that too, which is why she's learned to detach and dissociate and not feel much at all, most of the time. She's so good at shutting down, in fact, that nobody can get a read on her. That she doesn't even give off any Glamour. Pride had made her want to hide her pain, hide how much being here hurt her every single day - and now that she can stop the pain by not feeling at all, she's lost interest in hiding it. In case her silence made people think any of this was somehow acceptable to her.]

Sometimes it helps, writing it down. Anyway, we're all patched up. No trouble.

I'm not going to be on patrol myself. I told Citizen Dimitri I'm not up to it any longer. I'll probably fill in when people volunteer for the next round of torture, but I'm not doing it routinely.

[goodweather]

Reasonable enough. We'll rearrange the shifts. I know next month I'm staying behind if there's anything off-ship.

[ He wonders if this is a branch of self-isolation, not just losing the willingness to do it, but. Honestly. The unfortunate circumstance is that he just does not have it in him right now to pry into that kind of thing with someone he cares for, but who requires more tact than he can afford at the moment to not accidentally blow something up in their relationship. More than he already has, anyway.

... ]

[astrogator]

[Of course it is, but self-isolation in rough times is normal for her and not even the most tactful people have been able to change it, so good call, Phil.]

I appreciate your understanding.
I'm glad you're staying back next time, too

[goodweather]

[ She left out a period there. ... (People keep showing how much they really care, and it's so much, and he really doesn't know how to feel about it. It's a good thing, but... he'll never get used to it.) ]

I've had enough. At least for a while.

[ He is so, so tired. ]

At least I signed up for it though. [ Even if they've never had something so exacting and so protracted before. So sheerly targeted. Before, any torment was done with all the grace and specificity of a shrapnel grenade. This was... ] You didn't. I'm sorry.