Zivia "Cecilia" Birnbaum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tehilim127_1) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-04-08 01:32 pm
tehilim127_1) wrote in ph_logs2024-04-08 01:32 pm
[OPEN] observe the month of spring
Who: Zivia (tehilim127_1) & all comers (with prompt for Degas)
What: Settling in, and scrambling to prepare
When: April, prior to the event (backtagging welcome!)
Where: At home, at work (Town Hall), at the docks, at the Oak & Iron, at wits' end
Warning(s): To be added as relevant
At home
There's a lot of work that goes into making a house one's home, even when one receives it fully furnished. Zivia's resigned herself to doing it in stages, and moreover to those stages happening out of the order she would prefer, since according to the best-approximation calendar she's discussed with Lev-Lyubov and Anzu, Pesach is coming. Which means getting ready for that first.
She's put up a request on the community bulletin board; if it pans out, they'll be able to bake matzah, at least. Cleaning out the house she's been allotted is taking up a good chunk of the rest of her free time, though she might be willing to take a break to talk with a visitor.
At work (Town Hall)
The filing system isn't too hard to learn, it turns out. She takes notes during her brief training, writes up a couple of cheat sheets, and keeps one at her desk and one on her person. The chair and desk aren't particularly ergonomic, but they're sturdy and functional and won't completely ruin her wrists or spine, so she'll call it good.
It's been a while since Zivia's done any purely paper filing, but it's funny how it all comes back to you. Anyone else working there or visiting may overhear her humming to herself as she works.
At the docks (for Degas)
She hasn't forgotten the preacher's offer of help, so he's the one she calls on when she first comes across a task that needs an extra pair of hands. And, she's hoping, a cart or wheelbarrow or something to that effect, to help haul a bunch of items from her house down to the water's edge and back.
At the Oak & Iron
This city isn't the one she's always thought of as hers, but it's hers now, at least for now. She has to remember that. Has to learn that, internalize it until it feels like the truth. And that means, first and foremost, coming to know its people.
So even if she's a little tired most evenings now, Zivia makes a point of coming down to the pub after work at least twice a week, to meet her neighbors. Find her in the common room with a hot tea or a cold beer, looking for familiar faces or new ones.
At wits' end
Wildcard!
tehilim127_1) & all comers (with prompt for Degas) What: Settling in, and scrambling to prepare
When: April, prior to the event (backtagging welcome!)
Where: At home, at work (Town Hall), at the docks, at the Oak & Iron, at wits' end
Warning(s): To be added as relevant
At home
There's a lot of work that goes into making a house one's home, even when one receives it fully furnished. Zivia's resigned herself to doing it in stages, and moreover to those stages happening out of the order she would prefer, since according to the best-approximation calendar she's discussed with Lev-Lyubov and Anzu, Pesach is coming. Which means getting ready for that first.
She's put up a request on the community bulletin board; if it pans out, they'll be able to bake matzah, at least. Cleaning out the house she's been allotted is taking up a good chunk of the rest of her free time, though she might be willing to take a break to talk with a visitor.
At work (Town Hall)
The filing system isn't too hard to learn, it turns out. She takes notes during her brief training, writes up a couple of cheat sheets, and keeps one at her desk and one on her person. The chair and desk aren't particularly ergonomic, but they're sturdy and functional and won't completely ruin her wrists or spine, so she'll call it good.
It's been a while since Zivia's done any purely paper filing, but it's funny how it all comes back to you. Anyone else working there or visiting may overhear her humming to herself as she works.
At the docks (for Degas)
She hasn't forgotten the preacher's offer of help, so he's the one she calls on when she first comes across a task that needs an extra pair of hands. And, she's hoping, a cart or wheelbarrow or something to that effect, to help haul a bunch of items from her house down to the water's edge and back.
At the Oak & Iron
This city isn't the one she's always thought of as hers, but it's hers now, at least for now. She has to remember that. Has to learn that, internalize it until it feels like the truth. And that means, first and foremost, coming to know its people.
So even if she's a little tired most evenings now, Zivia makes a point of coming down to the pub after work at least twice a week, to meet her neighbors. Find her in the common room with a hot tea or a cold beer, looking for familiar faces or new ones.
At wits' end
Wildcard!
no subject
no subject
no subject
Pause.
"... Someone has terrible handwriting," sighs Zivia, and holds out the page in Fever's direction. "Had, I guess. That marginal note about halfway up, on the right -- does that look to you like it maybe says 'birdhouses'?"
perception: 2
"I've only had more trouble reading papers I plucked out of wreckage."
Turning it upside down, and then back, she shakes her head, handing it to Zivia.
"I just...don't know."
no subject
no subject
If only to avoid recreating the argument of ages past in her office by her asking the parties in question what it said.
no subject
The faint humming starts up again after a little bit; sadly, Fever has no way of recognizing the strains of "Birdhouse In Your Soul".
no subject
"What are you singing?"
Still, there's a softness to it - a genuine question, not irritation that it's taking place at all.
no subject
no subject
Fever's certainly not going to stop her, particularly if it makes Zivia happy.
"I keep running into songs I've never heard, foods I haven't tried, so on and so forth here. Not a bad thing at all, to constantly be discovering something or another."
no subject
A pause. "I could sing this one, if you like? It might take some explaining though, fair warning."
no subject
She'll save all her questions til the end.
no subject
A moment of humming, a little bit of tapping on the edge of the file drawer with her fingertips to establish the rhythm, and she sings: "I'm your only friend, I'm not your only friend but I'm a little glowing friend, but really I'm not actually your friend, but I am --"
Sorry, Fever, the rest of the song isn't a whole lot clearer.