preacher_in_reticence: playby: Waleed Zuaiter (Neutral - Thinking)
Degas Clayton ([personal profile] preacher_in_reticence) wrote in [community profile] ph_logs2024-06-27 05:34 pm

[OPEN] Don't Be Afraid to be Weak

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]
abhorrently: (don't.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-07-15 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Why are you apologizing?"

Her eyes flick up to him, having already reached for his wrist. Don't. Stay.
abhorrently: (sort.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-07-15 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm not mad at all. It's just...I don't have a last name. I know most people here do, but I couldn't think of any to make up when I arrived, so you get the truth. Only Fever."

She still hasn't let go, and won't until he sits back down.
abhorrently: (light.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-07-15 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
Slowly, she lets go of him, pulling her hand back, before she has to flick her eyes down.

"I..."

You barely know me. Could a few months be enough to be certain of such things? There is so much he does not know. So much he can't know. It had been staggering enough showing one person the details, not needing to explain them but letting them be tread. To say it out loud, in public, to someone who's not a fellow monster of a being? Impossible.

So why is he so sincere about this? Why does that look make her feel like she needs to start running, or something terrible will start?

"Are you sure?"

That said, most people only know her partially anyway. Time notwithstanding.
abhorrently: (chord.)

[personal profile] abhorrently 2024-07-15 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
There's silence there, covered by her stuffing the last bit of the bun in her mouth, eyes looking down - buying herself time to think about it. Oh, he doesn't know, he doesn't know, and when it does, it'll break his heart. She'll be thrust from his side. But...is it terribly wrong to want what is offered, all the same?

Just for a little bit. Just for a moment. To know, before it's taken away. Maybe that's why it's simpler than it should be, because she's thinking about transience. Something that will end, but...

Instead of a verbal response, her eyes flick up to him, and there's a small, almost shy smile. It's all too big to put words to. Hopefully he'll understand.