ph_logs | [ Open ] All The Lonely People

[ Open ] All The Lonely People

Who: Sally Boyle
What: Dealing with the departure of her fiancé, Arthur Morgan
When: Time is soup
Where: Morgan Ranch and other places
Warning(s): Grief, depression, alcohol use, psychoactive drugs

-Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been-

It's an insultingly lovely summer morning when Sally wakes to find the letter Arthur left her.

She doesn't think anything of it when she wakes early to an empty bed, assuming that Arthur's up taking care of the animals, and takes a peaceful moment to relax amid tangled sheets and listen to the birds sing outside her window. With a deep breath, she pulls herself up and resolves to go and see what he's up to before she starts in on laundry and heads off to work. And that's when she sees it. And there's the sinking feeling in her stomach, like a drop from a great height. She's been left before. She's left others. She knows what this is.

It's both better and worse that it has nothing to do with her. Arthur speaks hurriedly and with little detail about returning to his home world after being called back by the White-Haired Lady, apologizing to her over and over and over until her eyes are too full of tears to read it. For hours, Sally can do nothing but clutch the paper, and later Gwen, to her chest and sob. The day vanishes in a blur. And just like that, the life she'd built herself over the past year goes up in flames.

It takes a few days, but ultimately Sally's mind decides that Arthur was just a lovely dream that she's waking up from, a brief and wonderful vacation from being on her own. There's nothing stopping her from keeping the ranch--- technically the letter contained his parting wish to leave the property to Sally. But she can't be there right now, and she certainly can't keep up the ranch on her own. In the end, she decides to keep the house but move out for a while, and dissolve the ranch itself. She'll figure out what to do with the land later, she supposes, and rehomes Arthur's animals. They go to her neighbors--- John, Mairi, Eddie and Angel, César, Muriel, and the big family down the road. She keeps Hollyhock, though, unable to bear the thought of giving up Arthur's beloved horse, and the Pokémon get to stay. And then she moves back to her flat above Blackberry Apothecary while she gets herself together. Claude can keep the master bedroom--- Sally shares the guest room with Gwen. It's tight, but at least they're not alone, and it makes dragging herself to work a little less complicated.

And then it's back to normal. Wedding cancellations are sent, the apothecary opens, and life goes on.

-Lives in a dream, waits by the window-

When Sally first arrived to the island, she did so without Gwen, and she sat on the beach and waited. Then, once she'd waited long enough, the ferryman arrived with Gwen in hand. It'd be ridiculous to think that this would work the same way--- that Arthur would come back if she just... sat and waited. So she pretends that's not why she keeps going to the beach. Clearly it's to take Gwen to get ice cream and chase crabs and make sand castles and play in the water while it's still warm. And if Sally's gazing at the horizon, well, that's just because it's a lovely day for it.

-Wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door-

There has been a marked uptick in nights where Sally asks for a babysitter so that she can go to the Oak & Iron. It's not necessarily to drink, although she does that as well, but most times it's for the noise. The social environment keeps her from dwelling on the fact that her life has fundamentally changed in a way she doesn't like.

Time has passed. She's more okay than she was. But she still doesn't like the quiet, and she still doesn't want to go home.

Would you like a drink? Wanna play cards? Know any good bar songs? Hang out with Sally! She promises to smile and laugh the whole time, just like normal.

-Who is it for?-

And on one particularly bad night, Sally can be found at the Oak & Iron, turning to the person next to her with a little drawstring bag that she waggles. "Hey, I brought a treat! I used to make these back home. Wanna have a good time?"

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The stranger, a dapper old man with the brightest twinkle in his yellow eyes, gives Sally a huge smile.

"Now, is that what I think it is?" he asks, his silky voice almost a purr.

Crichton has a complicated relationship with pubs. He loves them for the atmosphere because they are never truly quiet. Harder to hear himself thinking over the sound of voices and music. Some days, there's nothing more dangerous than allowing his own voice in his head too much room to start down any dark thought trails. But, the trouble with pubs is that they also come with temptations. Maybe a part of him likes to test himself, to make sure he isn't slipping. Tonight, he'll be tested in new ways.

He regards the bag she waggles with suspicion. Sally, isn't it? He's seen her around the beach. They both seem to have a penchant for staring out longingly at the surf. She can pretend it's just for the view but... he's seen that look on enough faces before. It wasn't just that. Hey, doesn't she run the apothecary?

"If that treat is anything stronger than a chocolate bar, I'll have to politely decline. I'm one and a half years clean."

He looks directly at her, now, not the bag, offering his hand to her to shake, "Don't think we've been properly introduced yet. I'm Commander John Crichton. Don't worry, that title is civilian, I was an astronaut in another life."

"Oh! Say no more. I can respect that." Sally stashes her bag, then accepts the handshake. "An astronaut! That's so exciting! I'm Sally Boyle. Chemist in every life, it seems. Nice to meet you properly!"

Anzu's at the Oak and Iron alone, even though he's not exactly fleeing from company — spotting Sally, he heads over. He stops a couple of feet away and raises a hand in greeting.

"Wish'st thou for company, darling?" he says, softly. "I'll trouble thee not, if not, and take not no offense."

Sally raises a playful brow, plucking a pink pill out of the little sachet. "I guess that depends what you think it is!"

"Hey, you! Yeah, have a seat!" Sally beams, patting the table in front of another chair. "What's your poison? My treat!"

"Well, probably not greenmote. I haven't managed to get any out of the mushrooms here, not yet. But I suspect there's a good mood in that little pill."

He breathes out a sign of relief when she stows the bag. Another tests passed. But his smile never wavers as he grips her hand. "I admire the consistency. It's good to meet you, Sally. Just call me Crichton, all my friends do."

Exciting is a word for it. If she only knew the half of it. Nah, he'll save that story for later.

"What brings you out here tonight? I'll cut right to the chase and say I've noticed you looking a little worse for the wear lately. Everything okay?"

"There is! And they're flavored. Strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla?"

"Ah, yeah. I had someone I was close to leave the island. Been feeling kinda lonely. Getting better though!" She raises her brows and sighs, trying to seem upbeat. "And hey, looks like I have a friend for the moment, so I can't complain!"

Claude didn't really get to know Arthur, other than by proxy, knowing he was Sally's fiance-- he wishes he had while he'd had the chance. Maybe he'd know a little better how to comfort her. He does what he can, hurriedly cleaning his side projects out of the guest room so she and Gwen can move back in, babysitting some nights when Sally wants to go out... He helps with Hollyhock, having experience caring for horses from back home, and Blueberry gets along well with the Pokemon she brings along-- it's all a little chaotic at first, but they settle into a routine before long.

This is a loss Claude has never experienced for himself, and he truly doesn't know how to make it better-- if anything even can, other than time. Making yourself move on with life as normal is a coping mechanism he is all too familiar with though, and surely it's better than the alternatives? On the nights she stays in, Claude cajoles her into playing chess, first with a set he near constantly has on loan from the library and then with the one Lorenz gifted him for his birthday. "Why don't we make it more interesting?" He posits one night as they set up the board. "For every piece you lose... you have to give the other player a secret. Just something they don't already know about you, it doesn't have to be anything big."

This, too, is an attempt... to be closer, to help her feel better. Claude so rarely offers up pieces of himself.

"Hah, you'll know everything about me by the end of it," Sally jokes. She's still bundled up in her nightgown and robe, a quilt over her shoulders. She'll claim she's just being lazy, but.

As they play, Gwen fiddles with the ribbons on Azalea's ears, babbling to the Sylveon incoherently.

"I should get you drunk first so you tell me funnier stuff and are worse at chess!"

"I am magnanimous enough to give you a handicap." Claude chuckles, getting up from setting up the board to open a bottle of wine and pour himself a glass. He gives the Sprigatito curled up on the kitchen table a scritch on the head as he passes. "I'll take a drink with each piece too, how about that?"

And if he's drinking, then she won't tonight. One of them needs to be clear-headed to look after Gwen. Valentine, Claude's bright pink pygmy drake, has crawled under the quilt to try and leech Sally's body heat.

"Oh," his eyes soften in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. Been there more times than I want to count."

He reaches to pat her on the arm, "You got a friend in me. But, here's the thing with friends, they don't have to put on a happy face in front of each other if they aren't feelin' it. It's okay if you're still greivin'. Don't gotta pretend for me, Sunshine."

Sally can't help but laugh at the nickname, delighted by the irony. "Y'know, I used to make this stuff called Sunshine--- I came from this place where everyone took a euphoria-inducing psychedelic drug and no one was allowed to be sad, lest they get driven out of town. Sunshine was a little tablet that'd make your pupils shrink. That's it! That's all it did. It let people who couldn't take the drug fake it. So in that context, I think Sunshine's a great thing to be called," she explains. "Guess that makes you Starlight, though, eh, space explorer?"

Sally chuckles, patting Valentine on the rump through her blanket. "You comfy, then? Spoiled thing. But yeah, sounds fair. I'll have to play my best game!"

She's not the only one pensively staring at the horizon exuding the essence of moroseness. Well, he thinks he's projecting a haughty air of superiority, but he does look like a sad spectre haunting the moors. He's even floating a few inches off the ground!

"Do you think that land mass in the distance can see this island? They must wonder why no one ever sails away from this place."

“How about vanilla? I’ve always thought vanilla is the best baseline when I’m first trying anything.”

"No kidding? What a coincidence. Must be why it suits you so well." He actually goes a little red when she nicknames him back. That's a first. He likes it.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight," he recites, before stopping to giggle out of embarrassment at himself.

"I'm sorry that's what things were like in your world. No wonder you feel like you have to keep up the appearances. That's no way to live. I can say that from too much experience. I used to be addicted to a substance that would numb any emotions I had, make everything dull and uniform. I told myself it was better than hurting but it wasn't. It wasn't."

He drops his gaze to his hands fidgeting on the bar in front of him. "Even pain has a purpose. It keeps us up and moving."

"I'd wish on you any day," Sally says coyly, but softens to something more solemn when he continues.

There's a weary nod from her as she gazes into her glass. "Yeah. That's--- the drugs everyone in Wellington Wells were on were designed to make you deliriously happy all the time. And sure, it worked in the moment, but it made pain and fear hit that much harder when they did come. And no one ever grew from anything. Plus it made everyone sterile, which just made society even more stagnant. I had to hide my baby because she was an immediate tell that I'd gotten off the stuff. People might have tried to hurt me. Or worse, her."

"Careful, I'm not the luckiest guy to be making wishes on." Luck has been fickle with him. But, god if it isn't tempting to try his luck just a little.

"That's horrible. How could any society go on like that...?" He realizes he's preaching to the choir here but... her world sounds like a nightmare.

"I'm sorry you had to raise your baby all alone like that. As if being a parent isn't hard enough when you have help. I can't even imagine... did... did your baby survive you?"

Sally shakes her head. "We were trying to escape, but... our boat crashed. But she's here with me! Just had her first birthday last month. She's getting so big, I think she's--- she'll be happy here. I think." Her enthusiasm deflates abruptly. "I was more confident about that before my fiancé left the island. Apparently he was... called. It happens. Just... hurts that it happened right when we were supposed to start, y'know. Having a life."

"She's here with you. Oh, thank God." As sorry as he is that they died so horribly, he can't say he disagrees with her that this island, monsters and all, would still be a better place to grow up.

"She will," he says, reaching out to touch Sally's arm lightly. "Any place where she doesn't have to hide her own existence has to be better. Still...I really am sorry your fiancé got called away, Sunshine. I know how that feels. Well. I never got around to actually popping the question back home but the pain of separation doesn't care about the details, you know?"

"No, it really doesn't." Sally sighs, contemplating knocking back her drink--- but then she looks to Crichton, and slides it away. "I'm just getting used to doing all this without him still. It's been a little bit now, but I'm still struggling with parts of it. But--- I've got good people here. And of course I have Gwen."

"Wish I could tell you that one day you wake up and it stops hurting but... I don't like sugar-coating things. It does get easier over time, that I can attest to. And," he smiles warmly, "You can count me as one of those people too. Happy to lend an ear if you need it. Besides, I'm great with kids. You said Gwen's her name? Just turned one means she's gotta be starting to talk and walk, right?"

"Yeah! She just took her first step a few weeks ago, and she just started standing on her own the other day. Can't get more than a step unsupported without falling ass over teakettle yet, but she does great if she's got something to hold onto." Sally lights up when she talks about Gwen, even as the ache of losing Arthur is so fresh in her chest. Gwen, at the very least, is a source of joy and of distraction. "She's hanging out with my roommate now. He's my shop assistant, and I'd let him have my flat above the apothecary, but had to move back. He's been a good sport about it. He likes being the uncle."

"Better get your running shoes ready. If she's as smart a cookie as her mom, it's not going to take her long to get going." Prep the baby gates and the kid leashes now.

"I'm really glad to hear you don't have to go it all alone, and that he's a good sport about it. That's the kind of support money can't buy. I know how he feels; I liked being uncle for my sister's son, too."

A flicker of melancholy crosses his expression. Bobby has to be getting close to thirteen years old by now... He hopes Susan's doing okay. "I miss 'em every day."

Sally purses her lips and lets Crichton sit with that sadness for a moment, hands folded. Then, she reaches out and sets a hand on his wrist. "Hey, how would you like to meet my daughter? It's a bit late tonight, but--- maybe we could have a little picnic on the festival green tomorrow! Gwenny loves to be outside. Would you like to meet us for lunch?"

Her touch brightens his mood noticeably, even before she makes that offer. His grief is settled like an old wound now, duller and easier to push aside in favor of the here and now.

"I would love to," he has to work to keep his voice down so he isn't accidentally shouting it. "What can I bring? I'm not the best cook but I can do sandwiches."

Claude raises his glass in a playful toast to Sally before taking a long sip from it, carrying the wine bottle back to the couch with him for easier refills. "The better you do, the worse I will, so the odds are very much stacked in your favor." He laughs, and the game kicks off. The first captured piece is Sally's, and Claude gives her an almost apologetic look over the board.

Sally tuts at the loss. "I can't even drink about it. Scheming bastard," she teases, but returns the favor as she snatches one of his pawns.

Claude raises his glass in a mock toast, taking a drink as they trade pieces on the board. "Alright, that's a secret apiece! I'll start." He idly swirls the wine in the glass, just to give his hand something to do while he speaks. "I come from a pretty big family... I have four brothers and three sisters."

"That is big!" It's a bit strange to picture at first, because Claude seems so independent, but then again... He's always felt like a sibling to her. "Strange thing to consider a secret, though. I'd call that more of a fun fact. I'll let it slide, though. Let's see..."

Sally considers her secret for a minute. "My mum was a witch. Maybe not a real one... but she practiced her own folk witchcraft. I think it was just herbalism with a spiritual twist, but it sure felt like magic sometimes."

"We're using a loose definition of secret here. It's something you didn't know about me." Claude smiles, considering and making his next move while they talk. "Hm... where I'm from, magic and herbalism are both very real, but distinct. Different studies for different purposes. I wouldn't say magic is common, but that's mostly an issue of access to education about it, and the study of magic varies a lot by region. So does herbalism, but that's due to what plantlife is available, whereas with magic... some countries have their own entirely unique systems of it that you can't learn elsewhere."

"Yeah... I don't think my world had magic like that." Sally makes a move after him, contemplative. "Or at least, it wasn't something you could learn just anywhere. Witchcraft as I knew it was just a form of spiritualism where we tried to use... emotional energy, and the energy of nature, to try and influence the world through little nudges."

Anzu takes a seat, but he has to think about the answer. So much of the alcohol here is just different enough to what he's used to. Eventually, he hazards, "ah, nu, gin? If such things are found here. Gin and tonic, if tonic water is available."

He pauses, and then adds, "if they do, I wonder if it's for the same reason we do. For the prevention, alleged at least, of malaria."

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[ Open ] All The Lonely People

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