ph_logs | 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.)

wildcard

[ hit me! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It took a lot of wrangling, missed opportunities and eventually on River's part, a bit of light browbeating of other eager people in her life (the audacity of them, cherishing and caring about her), but, at last, dinner. River invites Phil in during the bright near-summer evening. She's laid out a simple spread, no individual dish anything more complex than stew, but in the manner of workmen everywhere she's made it up in sheer abundance. Whiskey, wine, and suntea are available, though River is quick to say that she's happy to put coffee or tea on.

There's a prayer on River's part just before serving, murmured low as a courtesy, the elf having no idea that Phil's sharp hearing can clearly discern friendly, even conversational words offered up to the Forgemaster ("Father of my people,") to Wren the Rhymer ("Give a bitch a break,") and to Celestine ("For your wisdom, and this harvest.")

This done, River looks up and starts to serve the food. "So! First things first, you staying over? I can take the couch, no bother to me."

It's an honor. It's always an honor to be invited into another's personal space like this. He shows up clean and dressed as respectful as he can make himself, and not wanting to show up empty handed, with a bottle of wine. And god, the food looks good. Homely.

(He quietly notes the prayer to Celestine. He really ought to get around to visiting the Temple.)

"Mm. I definitely appreciate the offer, but I probably shouldn't, just in case something comes up." What something? Something. "I can fly home in the dark no problem and it's close, so don't worry about whether I'll get got out there."

"If you're sure, it's no trouble," River stresses, in the time honored tradition of one who knows it's polite to insist on hospitality but won't twist your arm about it. "You weren't kidding about life keeping you busy man, but I do get it. Moving in was a lot for me as just me, and it seems like you were far from just you."

There's a sort of weird laugh. "Yeah, I was with the guys who are coming in from that weird evil prison ship, but I actually showed up late. By a few months, apparently. I washed up in the middle of the flood with the bug ship. It wasn't the best entrance."

He idly stirs the stew in his bowl. "And it's a lot to adjust to living in an actual society again after being trapped in the same small space with about sixty other people in a place with fake physics with no animals and plants, you know? I've been just... trying to settle in. Talking to people around town, getting to know them, see where things are, what I can do. I know there's a barrier, but it still feels like so much space and opportunity."

An infinity of things to change, and do, and try...

"Spent most of the year before my death in a giant hole in the ground, so I kinda understand," River agrees sympathetically. "I suspect a lot of us do. Sorta hard to get on the ferry if your life is going well."

"Honestly, this place is a huge improvement. The place we were trapped in was completely artificial. Things only happened because they were 'supposed to.' Empty machines, wind that only blew in one direction, no weather but no consequence. You know? It's, uh... as a scientist, it's nice to matter again."

... Anyway.

"So what did you want to talk about? Something about parenthood?"

And with the food served, he's gonna go ahead and start munching a little while River talks.

"Ha! I'd been trying to figure out a natural way to let you have the first topic," River admits. "Seemed hospitable, but...well, I'll be straight up. I've been contemplating motherhood, when this is all over. Maybe before, adoption is something of a tradition in my family, but, well. My parents did well and I still ran off to join an army. I don't want to make that mistake."

His head tilts. He may be half blind, but the gaze he fixes her with may be a bit uncannily keen, though not unfriendly.

"What mistake do you mean? Rearing a child that runs off to join the army?"

"Yeah, but more...I dunno. If they had noticed how bored I was, would I have gone?" River shrugs softly. "What if can drive you insane. I'm just. I dunno, worried about connecting."

"Well," he hums, "it's a bit hard to give advice from this distance where the kid's completely hypothetical. I can say stuff like 'listen to your kid, note and foster their interests and desires, let them be who they want to be and not what you want to be,' all those throw-pillow platitudes, but like. You're smart, you probably know all of those things in theory already."

He leans back in his chair, a fork bobbing thoughtfully in his grasp. "Maybe it'll help if I give you a few pieces of advice that other people gave me first. This is stuff you have to accept at the front. First of all: you don't have to be a perfect parent. You just have to be there.

"Second..." he pauses. He goes a little quieter. "This one was given to me by a woman who was pregnant three times and has one child. Never met anyone so in touch with both joy and grief. I think about her a lot. She said, I was gonna become a mother. I was going to break my own heart on purpose."

i heard the thunder [open]

Dinner & Conversation | June

no subject

Yeah Phil You Should Visit The Temple

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw implied infant death