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]

yeah but that’s really the least of things he’s done. don’t forget that I lived there for a couple decades and only moved out 8 years ago. once i figured out what was going on i was fine. kind of nice to be back, actually, even if it was weird and creepy to not have the rest of punx attached and also get my place ransacked

wait you were her sword? so you heard all of that?

Uh oh.

[crushed_pearls]

The dulcet text to speech tones of a man with explaining to do. Master Connors is it?

[goodweather]

Yeah, i fell into Cassandra’s childhood back in March and lived in her home in her father’s employ for like three months. Swore fealty to the family and everything, and it still holds so she’s my boss and you’ll only hear me refer to her with all the ladyship stuff. we hadn’t spoken beforehand so that’s technically how we met

think it means a lot to her to have someone here who knew her family and her home before things changed. beautiful place

[crushed_pearls]

No text is forthcoming but there might be some evidence why; Erin makes a Noise, the kind one might associate with choking back emotions. Her failure to do so manifests as soft crying; between jags she murmurs affirmations that Whitestone is, indeed, beautiful.

[goodweather]

He waits very patiently until he hears the sound begin to abate.

you okay?

[crushed_pearls]

One minute.

Five.

Is your line here not what are your intentions with Lady de Rolo mister vassal

[goodweather]

you’re talking like you think i could stop either of you

He probably could, but he’s in a bad way after getting forced onto an operating table a bunch of times, sorry.

besides she can make her own decisions. her parents raised her well. what IS going on between you two though?

[crushed_pearls]

A ragged breath. Those pauses between texts are going on for awhile, aren't they?

Am I a total bitch if I say that I wish I knew for sure? Whatever it is though I trust her with my sanity. I think you of all people here understand how much more I value that than my life.

[goodweather]

What I wouldn’t give to have my bodily and mental health switched right now.

being unsure is a terrible experience no matter what it is. nobody likes it even when you can’t really do anything about it. especially when it comes to relationships. but i’m glad she likes you and that you protect her. if you’re as good a friend to her as you have been to me then i don’t have anything to worry about

[crushed_pearls]

She been good to you though? Hell of a way to meet someone and find a new career Phil. Why did you never bring this up earlier?

Under her breath, after the text is sent and very much not thinking about the Owl Hearing: "If you keep doing Lost shit we're gonna have to sue for copyright infringement fucker."

[goodweather]

Wait until he starts using Contracts.

mostly because it didn’t come up? but yes, she’s been lovely. cass is a brilliant and kind young lady.

[crushed_pearls]

You worried about that owe no fealty here line buddy?

Fun fact: Erin is mentally cursing that text won't translate the anxiety and care in her voice that, again, Phil can just hear.

Stress does things to your memory.

[goodweather]

… am i supposed to?

look, i just know i don’t mind having loyalty to the de rolos, and that cass managed to snap me back into my own head for a little bit there with that.

erin, are you okay? do you want me to swing by?

[crushed_pearls]

Phil anyone who is not Helena that crosses the threshold of my room will not even get the chance to scream.

Pause.

Come to the door anyway.

[goodweather]

Ten minutes later, he's there, sat against the wall near the door and cradling Bad Penny against his chest.

"Hey. It's me."

[crushed_pearls]

"Head voice wants to turn that into the song but we're. Too tired." Erin's voice emanates from about the middle of the door; she must be sitting too. "...Phil, I'm not gonna speak for Cass. My people are neo-fuedalists, not the original recipe. But at home, after that kinda line...it's the sorta thing where if you still want to serve, you offer fealty again."

[goodweather]

There's a little sigh.

"What would you suggest I do, then?"

[crushed_pearls]

"It's a little outside your normal wheelhouse but I was gonna make the radical suggestion of talking to Cass like an adult."

Pause.

"That was supposed to be an inside thought."

[goodweather]

Surely you can feel the way his mood goes flat by the shift in the breeze blowing through the bottom of the door.

"Obviously I was going to do that, but you're--like. These are social rites that I'm not exactly familiar with, you get that, yeah?" Sorry if he's a little snappish, they've both been through it. He runs a hand through his hair. "What's the matter with that line, anyway?"

[crushed_pearls]

"It's..."

There's a pause. Then a bump against the door followed by Erin swearing; inside she rubs her elbow, the latest victim of her tendency to Gesture.

"...To have no fealty is to be released from fealty. That's the thing with oaths of loyalty? I'd say you got fired but that's the fucking shadow in Plato's cave version. And again, maybe they do it differently out in Whitestone! But I know my love, if she thinks you understand she won't bring it up and that's just a recipe for hurt, y'know? For both of you."

[goodweather]

“I… hold it.”

The loading screen is audible.

“Erin—when Cass said ‘you owe no fealty here,’ who do you think she was referring to?”

[crushed_pearls]

"...Strongly imagine me blinking here. Did I uh. Misunderstand something important?"

[goodweather]

“Mmmmm, there’s a chance. As far as I know, I haven’t been fealty-fired, but she was shaking me down and reminding me that if my loyalty is to any place or person, it’s Punxsutawney and Whitestone, and their peoples. Not the fucking Village. If anything I think I’m more employed. What did you hear?”

[crushed_pearls]

"See I heard her trying to get you out of your suffering by lifting the sense of divided loyalties," Erin murmurs. "...It's a story I've seen before, with lords who do that to save their vassals."

"...From me, generally."

[goodweather]

"Oh," he hums. He'll bring it up later, then, just to make absolutely sure that everything's cool and clear.

"That a story for today, or...?"