[OPEN] Don't Be Afraid to be Weak

[preacher_in_reticence]

Who: Degas Clayton and You
What: The beginning of his sabbatical
When: July, perhaps longer
Where: All over the place!
Warning(s): Discussion of depression and mourning likely

1. That's not the beginning of the end [Attempts to Relax]
If you’re a personal friend of Degas, you might have gotten a message via sending stone, letting you know in advance that he’s taking a sabbatical from his work at the Temple. At least one month off, perhaps longer. It’s time he gets to relax, to breathe and reset and heal from everything that the past several years have done to him.

The problem is that this man hardly knows how to relax. Catch him around town:
- getting a meal alone at a cafe or restaurant, looking awkward about sitting alone
- on the beach or docks, fishing
- visiting the graveyard with a bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other
- walking his Pokemon, both very large compared to him. The Appletun is pokey and the Trevenant is cranky, but both seem quite protective.


2. That's the return to yourself [Home Decor]
The sign reads YARD SALE in big friendly green letters, and the items laid out on blankets on the lawn go with it. Most are very feminine floral items–lacy placemats, a daffodil teapot, pillows with roses the sizes of cabbages on them. On some level, Degas still wonders if this is a betrayal of Melly. On another…well.

”It's a charming piece. Might be a nice addition to a kitchen, if that's your sort of thing.”

“My sort of thing? Jon, you've seen what my home looks like. I haven't the foggiest idea what my sort of thing is, at this point."

It is time to learn that for himself, isn’t it? And if someone else can get good use out of Melly’s collection of unused yarn, or her old dresses, well. It’s better, isn’t it?

After the sale, friends may be invited to help Degas paint and redecorate his home, making it a place for a single man to live, a place he feels at home in, even without her.


3. The return to innocence [Wildcard]
[find me on discord at darkersolstice to plot]

Comments

Home Decor

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris finally has some free time -- the post-flood pneumonia outbreak among the Winterbottom Clinic's oldest patients has come under control at last -- and curiosity leads them to the yard sale that Degas has set up.

Chris can currently be found among the dresses, running gentle fingers along the fabric and inspecting the various decorative items (like ribbons and buttons and lace trim) on the garments. There's a thoughtful, somewhat distant look in their eye.

[preacher_in_reticence]

Degas is currently on the front porch, in the shade, watching Chris quietly. He looks sad (but when doesn't he?), but he is enduring this all with grace.

"If the fabric or trim are useful to you, you ought to buy them. They don't need to stay in exactly that form."

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"I suppose that would be the kindest thing," Chris says agreeably.

They pick out a few dresses -- one in blue, one that is mostly dark green, and one in a sunny yellow. They approach Degas in his shady spot, and ask, "How much for these?"

[preacher_in_reticence]

"I don't know. Um, fifty brass for all three?" It is far too low a price, but Degas just wants it all gone, right now.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

Chris isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth... or turn down a bargain. They hand over the fifty brass with a smile, and neatly fold up their purchases.

"They really are lovely dresses. If there's anything you don't sell, I know Regina who runs the secondhand clothing shop would be willing to pay for the rest."

[preacher_in_reticence]

"I know she will, but it's different. She knew Melly."

And would be a more personal witness to the crime of Degas moving forward with his life and trying to reclaim ownership of his own home, in his head.

[thelatechrisfreeman]

"It isn't wrong," Chris says quietly. "To put her things to use for others. To make a space for yourself. I don't think her friends, or yours, will judge you for it."

Home Decor

[tisnotthehouse]

Degas's taste in clothes and interior decorating is not Tarantulas's taste, but he's wandered over to take a look because he's wondering...whether it might not be Ryja's.

See, he spent nearly all of his savings to build an extension on his house just for her. He'd intended to furnish it for her as well...but then came the flood, and his deal with Claunthe, the duchess of debt. Now, he's...well, to tell the truth, Tarantulas is somewhat strapped. So, if Degas is selling feminine accoutrements for cheap...

Now Tarantulas just has to find something Ryja would like.

[preacher_in_reticence]

"Tarantulas. How big's your daughter now?" The question isn't merely out of idle curiosity. There's some artifacts of his daughter's childhood he can pass along as well, beside all of Melly's stuff.

[tisnotthehouse]

"Hm?" Tarantulas blinks up at Degas in surprise, not expecting the question, but he rallies and answers, "Oh, she's about about twenty-five pounds, and thirty-three inches from head to foot." He holds his hands apart to demonstrate. "Everyone says she looks more like a two year old than a five-month old, but of course that's by human standards."

[preacher_in_reticence]

“I have some things inside that may fit her. More, to grow into, and toys from my daughter. Wait here? I can go fetch them.”

These aren’t as fraught as Melly’s things. He knows Liana is alive and doing well.

[tisnotthehouse]

"Oh! Well, thank you." Once again, surprise is all over Tarantulas's face. He didn't know that Degas had a daughter -- and being offered things for Dawn is completely unexpected. To be honest, while no one has outright refused to do business with him, many of the local townspeople have been holding him and his child at arm's length, as if her parentage -- both sides of it, perhaps -- is a mark of danger, like the stripes on a venomous snake. It's infuriating, but Tarantulas has gotten quite good at biting his tongue and saying not a word.

He needs a community, in order to provide Dawn with everything she needs. Whether that community likes him or not is immaterial.

[preacher_in_reticence]

Degas comes back lugging a trunk. “Here, go through this and see what you think your girl would like.”

There’s clothes, plush toys, a quilt with traditional designs in deep green and purple and pink. The clothes are not particularly frilly, and there’s signs of where things were mended for a very active child.

“Pass things down to Sally and Gwen when Dawn outgrows them.”

cafe.

[abhorrently]

Perhaps one ought to have more decorum, instead of simply sitting down across from a friend. But she does, because if their relationship started on a disrespect of personal boundaries, it can continue that way. That, and she's got her own cup of tea to sip from.

"Your mind looks fuller than it should, for a man on vacation."

[preacher_in_reticence]

"Does the fact that it's technically a sabbatical instead of a vacation change how full my mind ought to be?"

He clearly isn't bothered by her invading his thinking space, reaching for his plate of pastries to tear a cinnamon roll neatly in half and hold one side out to her.

[abhorrently]

"Same thing, isn't it? You're not supposed to be working, and instead recovering your spirits."

She accepts the offered food with a little smile, though, taking a small bite to start. These are fantastic. Good to know for the future.

"You still look like you're not relaxing."

[preacher_in_reticence]

"I'm trying. I'm not at work, and I'm doing something for myself--does that count for anything?" Grumble-grumble. "Later, I'm even going to take my pokey-mans out for a walk. You'd be welcome to join us for that."

[abhorrently]

"I'd like that. You just have to accept that I don't know very much about these...creatures. But if it's just a walk, even I can manage that."

Listen, she's working on keeping the houseplant alive. If that works, maybe she can think about a pet.

[preacher_in_reticence]

"Just a walk with a haunted tree who's taller than me and a dragon turtle who weighs more than me. When they get moody, they usually get their way."

There's some wry humor there.

the return to yourself

[tehilim127_1]

Zivia passes by the yard sale a few times, pauses to glance at the items on offer and wave to Degas if he sees her, and moves on each time without stopping.

Only on the last day of it, with a bare few objects left, does she give in to the urge to linger.

[preacher_in_reticence]

Degas watches her, as if Pavlovianishly just expecting the wave and quick exit stage left, but when she lingers, he smiles. "Slim pickings, at this point."

[tehilim127_1]

"Oh, I know. I'm not here to buy, just ... wanted to see how things are going with you."

There's some awareness there, of what it might mean that he's getting rid of these things that he's kept for so long.

[preacher_in_reticence]

"I'll be alright." Which implies he isn't quite there yet. He manages a smile for her, though. "It's time."

[tehilim127_1]

She nods. "I understand. It's ... like that, sometimes. And this is a good way to do it, passing things on."

[preacher_in_reticence]

"The next step is going to be deciding how to fill the space. Maybe get myself a set of the fancy tableware that I like enough to use sometimes."

The good china, but for a world with no China.