ph_logs | i heard the thunder [open]

i heard the thunder [open]

Who: Phil and you!
What: May/June open
When: Late April and through May, probably June too
Where: Around town, the skies over the island, the Library, the hot springs
Warning(s): nudity in the hot springs prompt

but i find i got the question wrong [exploring]

A whole town. A whole island. Imagine that.

It's almost overwhelming, honestly, but Phil figures he may as well start big and wide before getting into the real nitty-gritty of it. So once things are slightly settled, once he has the time, he takes off. It won't be so unusual for people to see his silhouette soaring in the sky. If something fascinating catches his attention on the ground, perhaps he'll come down to check it out; his eyes are fit to see detail miles away, so distance is hardly a problem. Perhaps he'll land near you, or you can find him freshly landed someplace else. This is a lot more flying than he's done in years.

i was trying to run away [around town]

And of course, there's the glory of having more than a couple dozen other people to talk to. Phil makes himself a real neighbor's neighbor; he introduces himself to as many people as he can, he chats up anyone who seems free enough, he wanders place to place in the town, invites people to lunch or a drink or what have you. Sometimes he'll just be sitting around, pleased to be people-watching.

but a voice told me to stay [library]

Ah, weather. His old friend.

He's got to brush up. Get back into the swing of it, you know? And he's got to figure out what sort of currents and forces are acting on the meteorology of the island. Phil schleps down to the Library then, and spends long days tracking down research material for the case: he cross-references reports in the newspaper archives, digs up a scientific textbook on the global climate and its impact on the island, and even fishes up a few academic papers of... uh, dubious helpfulness, but it's fine.

Exhaustion catches him more easily these days than it used to. He's not terribly proud of it, but more than once he dozes off him his chair. Then shakes himself awake, then... dozes off again. At least he's not drooling on the books.

put the feeling in a song [hot springs] (cw: nudity, artistic nudity painting the link)

One of the things he'd spotted from above was, of course, the hot springs. There's even some signage nearby, so this is definitely both a public space and safe to take a dip in. Not saltwater, not chlorinated... jeez, it feels like it's been ages since he's been able to take a proper soak without having to take on some shape that got rid of his feathers. It's a relief. A good place to keep in mind if he has a particularly awful flare, too. (Although getting here would be tricky if he's gotten that bad.)

One day or another, Phil stops up there by himself. Undresses. Sighs a long sigh as he rests in the water. Lounging below the water or up on the grass, anyone is free to encounter him (and his shockingly sculpted figure), although he'll certainly hear you coming.

(And of course, do mind the wedding band he's wearing as a necklace.)

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There are footsteps on wood, on a soft rug, on wood again. The door clicks open.

"Hey, pumpkin," he hums softly, ruffling Darcy's hair. Phil's as tired as he ever was, but he's had time to settle; he still looks better than he ever did those last months on the ship. Like he's... fine, maybe, for once.

"Just swinging by, or should I put the kettle on?"

Ah, the world is back on its orbit again. Darcy takes the ruffling, noting to himself to try and smooth it back into place in a minute. Always good to see Phil so... like himself. It reminds him of their first meeting, almost. Not quite, but something in it, before all the... everything.

"I want to hang out. So. Kettle, I guess," Darcy answers, shedding his coat onto the rack at the door and slipping out of his boots. It's weird feeling the difference between inside and outside again. Having mud to track in.

"How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine." Phil trots into the kitchen, cabinets open and closing, metal clattering. No gas stoves in this town, just good old-fashioned wood. (There's a usage guidebook on the coffee table.)

"I'm still organizing things with Cecil. I've been trying to track down some decent sheet music so that I can play some more rep on the radio. I might be putting the cart before the horse a little bit there, though, because I'll also need a piano to reliably broadcast from. Still adjusting to the fact that bugs exist. Oh, and I still need to get more of my shirts tailored."

He sets out two cups on the counter. "How's yours?"

Darcy sits himself on the couch, listening. It's good to hear things that Darcy doesn't need to be responsible for. Doesn't need to chase up or talk to someone about, or keep in mind. It can just be news.

"Felt about the bugs. It was an okay shift though, they tend to be really consistent. Even when I'm not running plates out sometimes I can tell if it's the same person because they sit in the same spot and order the same thing. I've got into enough of a routine again now that I can just... kinda switch my brain off. Autopilot through it."

Which is as good as he's expecting to get for now.

It's the same for him; everything on that ship was too close, too personal, too overwrought. There was no everyday life, so all they had was just... issues, with each other, with everyone.

"Yeah, that happens, especially service jobs. It's nice having regulars, hm?"

He pulls out a tin. Stuffs the leaves into a teaball. Drops it in.

"You know, I was just thinking about you. I realized some time last month that I missed your 18th birthday. I've been trying to figure out what to do for it. It's not like I can take you out to a big concert for your favorite band, or something."

"Makes things easier," Darcy agrees.

Speaking of novelty, Phil mentioned he was thinking of him. It isn't novel him thinking about Darcy, but having any sort of absence enough to make it notable. Makes his heart hurt in a good way.

"Oh-" it didn't occur that Phil would think about that, "you don't have to do anything. Honestly, it's- I haven't even spared it a thought."

“I’d like to. You’re my kid, you turned eighteen. I got to see you turn eighteen. It’d be nice to bookmark that.”

Make it a better eighteenth than Phil had, anyway. And what, like he’s just not gonna do something for Darcy?

“If you don’t want a big fuss, we don’t have to, but maybe we can have all your friends over for dinner. Either in here, or… I know you don’t like dirt, but we’re getting into bonfire season. It could be nice.”

Yeah he did, didn't he. Darcy doesn't need to mention that he didn't think he'd make it- Phil was there for the post-launch catastrophe event. Darcy kind of owes him for the birthday he just pretended wasn't happening, too.

Plus the idea of lighting something on fire does sound pretty good. Phil knows him so well.

"A bonfire could be cool," he answers, "thank you."

Look at Darcy, not even couching it in 'I know you're busy' and 'you don't have to' this time.

"I'm... glad I did. Make it to eighteen, I mean."

"So am I."

To think he has a kid who's eighteen years old. To think he led him this far. To think he let him.

"Proud of you, kiddo."

A quiet huff, and Darcy retrieves one of the pillows on the couch to curl around.

"You'd say that no matter what I did."

"It's always true."

The kettle whistles. Phil takes it off the stove to pour into the two cups, then roots around in his cabinets a little more to put some biscuits on a plate, bringing all of it into the living room, the cups in his hands and the plate balanced in the crook of his arm.

"We could do it some time late this month," he says as he lays them out on the table. "My birthday's around then, too, so we'll have to work around it, but I think it's possible. Unless you want to wait for a July night."

Edited 2024-06-05 23:58 (UTC)

Darcy takes the cup with a small noise of appreciation, holding it in hand atop the pillow for warmth. No biscuits for the moment, he might like Max's sweets but he does still try and mind what he eats.

"End of the month is good. I'm not going to ask how old you're turning-" sometimes the grey at his temples makes Darcy wince, actually showing the decades she knows he lived through, "but ehn. Sharing it would be nice. People can bring food or whatever."

Because cooking as his job as well as for feeding himself has absolutely robbed a lot of the magic of making food for people. That's just how it goes.

Phil takes a seat alongside as he picks up his own tea. "Sure. We'll do a bonfire for ourselves, and some other night I'll do a dinner with a few other of my friends." Just because Darcy kind of hates some of the people he talks to, so he wouldn't bring them around to something that's supposed to be Darcy's day. (Erin and Daisy, he's talking about Erin and Daisy.)

... A beat. "Mmh. I'd like to invite the Starrs, so we should do it whenever Peter's feeling better in the month. I'll have to ask them about it."

It's appreciated. Mostly so Darcy doesn't have to deal with Daisy after challenging her to a death match and knowing he's going to have to chicken out of it for Phil's sake.

He already told Phil about what he's doing for Ava and Peter, so instead-

"Of course. It'd be weird not inviting them. They're family."

Darcy stretches out a little- his feet are sore from the shift and his back kinda aches from stooping over the stove. It's nice coming by instead of being a vegetable in his room.

"We'll work out like a guest list and shit. Did I mention that Gwen showed up too? Feels like people keep trickling in."

"Seems like it, yeah. I guess it makes sense that Mortanne couldn't scoop us all up in one go. It's a lot of people to fish up. I'm pretty glad we didn't end up alone."

Which is a vast understatement, although he tries not to think too hard about what he'll do if Skulduggery appears. If more than him appears.

"Speaking of company. You know that doctor? The one that helped me with this?" He holds up his bandaged wrist. The skin's scabbed and healed over, but it's tender, sore, and itchy enough that he still wants a barrier between it and the rest of the world.

"Same," Darcy agrees, taking a small sip. Still not the biggest fan of tea, but he likes how Phil makes it.

A moment, as Darcy thinks back prior to getting to slice sails with a knife and stab a bunch of people.

"Oh- yeah, the dude with the bad jokes. Mulcahy's friend. You want to invite him?"

He shakes his head. "Oh, no. We're not friends like that yet. I was just gonna talk about him. We had a really nice conversation up there, about home and stuff. You know he's from Maine? That's the northeast tip of the States. Not far from Pennsylvania. He's a few decades behind, but it was really nice to talk to someone who's familiar with the same stomping grounds. He'd been out to both Cleveland and Pittsburgh. Already knew about Groundhog Day and everything. It's a kind of a shame I've never been up to Maine myself."

He sips out of his cup again.

"I think... he made some kind of... joke-flirt? Pass? Sort of thing, at me. And then saw my ring. He got so embarrassed he immediately put his clothes back on and ran off on me."

"Oh, that's cool," Darcy settles in to just listen then, kinda glad he doesn't have to suggest that Hawkeye goes to the dinner for Phil's friends.

"Must be nice talking to someone who's actually been to where you're from, ehn?" less than an hour in a car park in Cleveland doesn't count and Darcy doesn't suggest that it does.

"He actually ran off?" Darcy asks, choosing not to address the flirting thing for now. He was there for his attempts on the ship and that alone was agonising, "like physically ran away?"

"Really really nice. Felt like I was talking to someone from home. I mean--well, I guess I was." It's nice. Really nice.

"Maybe not sprinting, but more or less, yeah. And I think something in the woods stole his boxers."

"What a weird dude," Darcy remarks, "I feel less bad about how I started off with Helena now."

...

"Oh- yeah, there's tree things in the woods that steal shit if you're not looking. Seems especially bad around the hot springs."

Kinda visibly pauses. That would explain why he was naked. Just gonna bury their face in the tea and practice the same technique that he honed on the ship of emptying his mind entirely of that train of thought.

"Anyway. Weird. Do you want me to kick his ass or are you good."

Phil snorts at that first remark. Sorry, Hawkeye, Phil’s first impression of you is entirely without game.

“It’s fine, it was mostly just something really weird that happened. We made plans to go and get coffee some time. He’s kind of intriguing.”

Weird, he means, but in a good way. (As if they aren’t all weirdos at this point.)

Darcy makes a small noise in answer, more an affirmation he's heard than anything.

To someone fluent in Darcy, it means he is trying not to view this as the start to a new different slippery slope where interesting precedes God knows what that directly causes their world to upend a number of times. Phil only just got here and already Darcy's going to be shunted out of the nest by someone 'intriguing'.

Not that any of it is Phil's problem. He's not going to make it his problem. At least this one is fair game if he fucks up.

"Cool," he offers after that moment of thoughtfulness, but can't work out what to say that isn't just asking more about him.

He lets that stand for a while, blowing over the top of his tea.

“I'm making new friends. We’re not cramped up with the same stale crowd anymore, ehn? I want to meet new people. Get to know our neighbors. I’ve been talking to people all around town, not just the doctor. I’ve met a jeweler, woodworkers, definitely a few tailors, farmers, and one guy who makes ink. Pierce’s just the one I have the weirdest story about so far.”

A beat. “Well, Cecil did try to teach me words like ‘blorbo’ and ‘skrungly,’ but I’m not sure I get it.”

He does, he’s just trying to fuck with Darcy.

Edited 2024-06-06 19:55 (UTC)

"I'm not- you can do whatever you want," Darcy starts, but then.

Those are words from pretty much immediately before he got taken. He kinda blue screens for a moment.

"He... why? Was he teaching you those?"

“Not sure. Something about me being a wet cat to one of the goddesses? The sky one.”

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