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ph_logs2024-04-10 10:00 pm
be_seeing_you) wrote in ph_logs2024-04-10 10:00 pm
April Catch All
Who: Number 6 & Open
Where: Around town and on the farm
What: Various prompts for April
When: Currently before Flood, might add some for After Flood
Warnings: [cw: Talk about spousal death, illness, grief, depictions of chronic impending fatal illness]
A. Around the farm
Number 6 is finally starting to look the part out here on the farm. He found a pair of dungarees and work boots stowed away in the attic of their home and he's donned them now along with a wide-brimmed sunhat to protect his pale complexion from the worst of the sun's rays. It can only do so much, and as a result, his face has broken out in an explosion of freckles. Despite that and the sunburns, he's happy. His hands are covered in dirt from plowing the soil and his shirt is soaked from the sweaty work of hauling logs and chopping wood. And he hasn't had to lie to a single person or keep a single secret to accomplish his tasks. It's all good, honest labor.
Unfortunately, the work is getting harder on him by the day. At the start of the month, all seems fine enough. But that ring in the shape of a skull jawbone on his finger is slowly but surely sapping that strength away from him. In the middle of pushing a wheelbarrow, he suddenly falls to his knees, out of breath and clammy with sweat so thick his hair is wet beneath his hat. It's fine, he tells himself. Get up. He has more work to do yet. But... maybe he should just rest for a moment, first.
...Just a moment.
B. Now I lay me down to sleep [cw: Be advised, this is directly following Ava's IC death]
He went out to lay beneath the stars with his wife. But now... now he's walking home alone. There's a bundle in his arms. The clothes she left behind. Still warm, but that warmth is fading. Like she faded.
Tears glisten in his eyes but he blinks them back. He has to stay strong. She will be a ghost. She might see. He doesn't want her to have to watch his anguish. Stiff upper lip. It will be all right. They knew the cost of freedom might be high. He let her pay it this time, but the next... and the next...
"I'll find a way," he says under his breath. "We'll stop this."
But, for now, there is nothing he can do but cross the short distance from field to the front door of their home, drift inside and... no, he doesn't think he can sleep tonight. Not alone. He resolves to go to the kettle instead, to brew something hot. He carries it back out to the front porch and sits heavily in one of the wooden rocking chairs. A matched set. Somehow that only makes him feel lonelier, watching the empty chair creak slightly in the breeze. On a night like this, he could use some company.
C. Wildcard Me
Can be next day, ghost shenanigans, etc. Just throw whatever at me, I'm game.
Where: Around town and on the farm
What: Various prompts for April
When: Currently before Flood, might add some for After Flood
Warnings: [cw: Talk about spousal death, illness, grief, depictions of chronic impending fatal illness]
A. Around the farm
Number 6 is finally starting to look the part out here on the farm. He found a pair of dungarees and work boots stowed away in the attic of their home and he's donned them now along with a wide-brimmed sunhat to protect his pale complexion from the worst of the sun's rays. It can only do so much, and as a result, his face has broken out in an explosion of freckles. Despite that and the sunburns, he's happy. His hands are covered in dirt from plowing the soil and his shirt is soaked from the sweaty work of hauling logs and chopping wood. And he hasn't had to lie to a single person or keep a single secret to accomplish his tasks. It's all good, honest labor.
Unfortunately, the work is getting harder on him by the day. At the start of the month, all seems fine enough. But that ring in the shape of a skull jawbone on his finger is slowly but surely sapping that strength away from him. In the middle of pushing a wheelbarrow, he suddenly falls to his knees, out of breath and clammy with sweat so thick his hair is wet beneath his hat. It's fine, he tells himself. Get up. He has more work to do yet. But... maybe he should just rest for a moment, first.
...Just a moment.
B. Now I lay me down to sleep [cw: Be advised, this is directly following Ava's IC death]
He went out to lay beneath the stars with his wife. But now... now he's walking home alone. There's a bundle in his arms. The clothes she left behind. Still warm, but that warmth is fading. Like she faded.
Tears glisten in his eyes but he blinks them back. He has to stay strong. She will be a ghost. She might see. He doesn't want her to have to watch his anguish. Stiff upper lip. It will be all right. They knew the cost of freedom might be high. He let her pay it this time, but the next... and the next...
"I'll find a way," he says under his breath. "We'll stop this."
But, for now, there is nothing he can do but cross the short distance from field to the front door of their home, drift inside and... no, he doesn't think he can sleep tonight. Not alone. He resolves to go to the kettle instead, to brew something hot. He carries it back out to the front porch and sits heavily in one of the wooden rocking chairs. A matched set. Somehow that only makes him feel lonelier, watching the empty chair creak slightly in the breeze. On a night like this, he could use some company.
C. Wildcard Me
Can be next day, ghost shenanigans, etc. Just throw whatever at me, I'm game.
no subject
He shakes his head, seeming to realize that that's a strange thing to say.
"She'll... she'll come back. You're lucky, for that. You can go back, to the way things were. Though that doesn't make it not hurt." He takes a deeeeeeeep breath, and doesn't say anything else after the fact.
no subject
"So, I can hardly judge you if you have lost your own."
no subject
He doesn't say what else he's thinking- that perhaps he's here because of this other man's grief, that perhaps he is here to occupy the space where sense and reason have ebbed. That explains too much, and doesn't give life and feeling the room it needs to breathe.
no subject
"I'm sorry you had to do it."
no subject
no subject
"Does it not feel as such to you?"
no subject
okay to wrap this one up?
Absolutely fine!
He takes another sip of the tea, letting the scent of mint fill his thoughts.
"And... maybe, frustrating as it is, that's for the best."