OUR HOUSE

[saltwaterlungs]

CHARACTERS: Phil, Dimitri, Darcy, Ruby, the Venom Symbiote, and you!
DATE: June
LOCATION: The farmhouse on 499 Winter's Avenue
SITUATION: Home-making and housewarming
WARNINGS: Usual warnings for all characters involved but otherwise n/a

I'll light the fire, you place the flowers in the vase (Closed to phil/dimitri/ruby/venom)

Moving out of the Oak and Iron has been on Darcy’s mind- well. Virtually since she got to Pumpkin Hollow. But with Phil back and all, they started making plans for it in earnest. A combination of saving up and mysterious brass from some old dude fairy (??? she isn’t asking too many questions) means that they have the means. All they have to do is do it.

The week prior to the housewarming is spent working in and around the construction of a couple of new rooms, subdivided up from the old floor plan. Paint, wallpaper, fresh fabric to reupholster some of the furniture, a lot of cleaning. Plus there’s the logistics of moving all their stuff, which is significantly harder without cars and on an island that’s bigger than one ship. Darcy doesn’t even have that much shit, it just all stacks up somehow.

She spends her time mostly between generally assisting the move, setting up the kitchen, and putting her room together once they’ve finished building it. Darcy can be found doing any of those three things.

Rest your head for just five minutes, everything is done (Open)

It’s not going to be the shindig to end all shindigs, but once the dust has settled and everyone’s recovered from moving everything around, friends and family will get a call inviting them over. All the windows are open for the mild Summer night air, the curtains drift a little in the breeze, and the song of crickets can be heard from anywhere in the house. The lights inside the house are warm and cheery, and seem to beckon you in, the shadows around them seeming… darker, somehow.

There’s lemonade with some Phil-made ice cubes in it, and Darcy hasn’t moved from the kitchen in service of making canapes to feed anyone who shows up. Cold cuts on bread, sandwiches with cucumbers left over from the carnival, small fish cakes. It’s a good way to break the kitchen in. When the food has been made, Darcy sets up out the front on the porch, curled up with some lemonade on one of the chairs, looking out into the night and making some small greeting to anyone who approaches.

Life used to be so hard, now everything is easy cause of you

[wildcard!]

Comments

[saltwaterlungs]

Yeah. You remember where we grew up.

[ Only because nobody else is in the room right now. They both remember the apartment in Monplasir, on the rue Saint-Nestor, with all the other apartment blocks lined up the street. The bus stop, the metro station with the big monument to the Lumiere brothers, the markets a short walk away...

Home, still. ]

After the cabins, honestly, I'll take it. Nice to have something to spend our time actually doing. Especially since we don't have movies anymore. I never did get to the end of that season of bake-off.

[goodweather]

Hey, maybe your laptop will turn up in Calloway’s. We still have electricity. I can get Tarantulas to jury-rig a charger.

[ Or something. God, he misses Wikipedia. ]

But yeah, it’s… nice to have more than a couple hundred square feet to ourselves. And we can actually make it ours. Our own furniture, our own curtains, you know. I think I want a patio out back.

[saltwaterlungs]

If there's enough voltage without taking out the whole power grid. And if I can fend off anyone else who wants a reminder of how good the modern day is.

[ Darcy misses scrolling endlessly and mindlessly through social media, personally. She has nothing to do to procrastinate going to bed.

A small snrt. ]

Did you want a patio out back before or after you adopted me?

[goodweather]

[ A pause. ]

What does that mean?

[ Someone's not caught up on his Dad Lore. ]

[saltwaterlungs]

It means that building like a patio or deck is like, an ancient calling inside the blood of every dad like how when pigs go feral they grow their tusks back. I'm making fun of you.

[goodweather]

What? No it's not. How does that make sense? My dad never built a deck. I can't be speaking some kind of ancient dad language because I'm making plans for the house that we're in the middle of building.

[saltwaterlungs]

Dude chill- it's like a meme, like dads grilling and liking Dire Straits or whatever. Jesus.

[ Weirdly big reaction to that, it feels weird coming from him. ]

[goodweather]

[ Every so often he's reminded that apparently he still doesn't know how to behave like a normal person. Especially outside of the small-town weirdos of Punx. ]

It's... sorry, I'm fine. Honestly. I was just confused.

[ He leans back where he's sitting, the dull point of his talon still pressing over the starburst on his wrist. He's quiet for a while. ]

Sorry. Maybe... it just feels weird. I'm still a new parent, you realize that, right? And it's not like I was in a normal place to be doing that for the last two years. All of a sudden we're getting a house, and there's three of you. I know I'm only your dad, but still.

[ He runs a hand over his face. ] It still doesn't feel right to even say that I'm a parent. Rita and I never made plans for anything. We figured we were both too old.

[ And the fact that they were only married for a year before he was taken, so. ]

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Her heart scrambles up into her throat to escape the sinking of her gut. For a brief moment there's a feeling like the first axe hit into a piece of wood- you don't cut through a log, you split it along the grain because the bonds holding each strand together are weaker than the strands themselves. On one side, memories of both of them, of growing up with Rita and Phil somewhere cared for and loved. The other, the reality of the ship, of how much a pain in the ass Darcy has been and continues to be for him. Of prom, and that confession of wishing he was her actual dad.

Darcy has to ease off. It's not the ship anymore, they aren't in the pressure cooker, they are two adults, even if Darcy only barely feels like it, and Phil did not ask for this. No more jokes of that nature. She has to withdraw.

But Phil will notice something's up if she does, too. He will probably try and act like he isn't bothered by it, and Darcy will not do that to him. She will have to do what she did with her mother- placate him with reasonable explanations, stop saying every stupid thing that comes to mind, take the weight off. ]

Sorry, stupid joke, I didn't mean it.

[ Can't get back up to it right now, it'll look like running away. ]

I should remember I'm not a comedian. Sorry for confusing you.

[goodweather]

[ There's just no getting around it. No matter how much he loves her, has let her nest and burrow in his heart, has set a place at the table for her, no matter how many shared memories are stuffed into his brain, the only thing that will get him used to saying it is time. Time here, specifically. How could he feel like a father in a place like the ship? He couldn't tell Darcy to go and bring the mail in. Couldn't ask for when she was coming home tonight. Couldn't set the table for her, or wash her favorite mug, or think of her when shopping for clothes.

Phil waves it off. No big deal. He is, as always, light on his feet. ]

Don't sweat it. I'm glad to be here and that we're doing this. [ He puts a hand on her shoulder, rubs in a way he hopes is comforting. ] I won't get used to the dad thing by avoiding it, anyway. I mean, I want to get used to it.

[ Guess now he has to build that patio. ]

[saltwaterlungs]

[ There is, still, the slightest flinch that Phil has hopefully learned not to take personally.

Phil remains too tolerant with her. There is a feeling at the back of her mind like wallpaper peeling up, her Geist willing and ready to press back into the fold and Darcy still caught on the embarrassment. ]

Mm, [ Darcy agrees absently, ] probably just takes time or whatever. What else did we have to get done today?