But my heart is returned to sister winter (OTA)

[saltwaterlungs]

CHARACTERS: Residents of the farmhouse and guests/others
DATE: December to early January
LOCATION: The farmhouse
SITUATION: Recovering from top surgery, seasonal depression, and general comings and goings
WARNINGS: N/A at present

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Darcy | OTA

[saltwaterlungs]

Towards the start of December, Darcy goes in for an appointment.


There’s no guarantee as to how any of it will work, with Darcy’s supernatural healing the way it is and her lack of, well, life. There’s probably simpler ways to do this, supernatural apothecaries and everything, but Darcy doesn’t want simple. She wants a pair of scars like people from her world who get top surgery get, she wants them to remain like the scar Clarke gave her on her brow, and she wants real, definitive proof that she is… this Darcy. Not the one from her world, not the one from the ship, not any other version of herself but herself. She wants to belong to herself like a nun belongs to God. And most of all she wants to not have to think about bras or corsets or binders ever again.

So she entrusts herself to Watson’s care for a while, and after some monitoring everything seems… alright. No making scalpels float while she’s under, no complications. He’s not cutting that deep, but Darcy makes it very clear that she doesn’t want to know what’s going on under her skin, even if it’s bad news. And as soon as humanly possible, she goes back home.

Friends and coworkers will get informed that she’s recovering from surgery, the nature of which she’s a little cagey about, at least outside of face-to-face talk. Not for any reason other than it’s something she’s doing for herself, not subject to anyone else’s approval.

A) Anyone dropping by to wish her well can find her where she’s posted up pretty permanently on the couch. She has a stack of books on a side-table, and at least one ‘get well soon’ card from her staff at La Dragon, with West ominously warning that ‘if you die, I get the restaurant’. Darcy doesn’t think that’s how it works but she’s going to check in with Town Hall when she recovers just in case.

B) Darcy might also be on a chair at the front porch, in a few layers with a distinctive bone brooch on the outermost blanket, getting some fresh air. If she sees you approach she’ll holler-

“Hey- I’d wave but I can’t lift my arms right now.”

C) Or you can intercept her trying to do something she really shouldn’t be at this point in her recovery, most likely dragging herself along the wall to try and get to the kitchen. If caught she’ll say-

“Come on, I’m just getting tea, I’m not doing anything stupid.”

[decrypter]

The others do have things well in hand, but that hardly stops Helena from being over often enough. She'd asked Gerry for flexibility in her schedule, and he had easily given it over, because she'd like to be by Darcy's side while she recovers. She brings news, her new works in progress, what's needed from town. And more often than not, just being near, sometimes sleeping over to remain so.

Today she is combing Darcy's hair, and Helena feels warm, down to her toes, though the weather outside is cloudy. She's exhausted the talk she's brought, but she's still smiling, comfortable here.

"I have something for you. I was going to give it to you at Christmas, but...I think I'd rather give it now."

[saltwaterlungs]

Darcy's in a gentle kind of daze, enjoying having their hair combed, the feeling of Helena's hands on 'em. It's nice, and it's definitely taking their mind off being restless for the moment.

But when Helena speaks, they open an eye, snapping their attention on as quickly as they can.

"Mmn?" they grunt, swallowing before trying again, "I still don't have your thing sorted for you."

[decrypter]

"If all you did was tell me j'taime on Christmas morning and kiss me, I would be well satisfied."

A pleased hum, as she sets the comb aside.

"Besides, it's not that kind of gift. Open your hand and close your eyes."

[Not-here]

[maximumcake]

While Darcy is still convalescing with Watson, Max takes it upon himself to deliver a gift as a surprise for her when she comes home. It's a small cake with "congrats!" piped on the top above two very suggestive macarons. The idea is she'll have to pull those off to eat the cake. It's his way of acknowledging things without having to say it. The good news is, they aren't going to go stale if she's not exactly up to eating them.

Next time he sees her, he doesn't plan to say a word more about it unless she brings it up first. Darcy is, as always, his friend and baking buddy no matter what her final form becomes.

b

[thismaskismybadge]

"So, no high five? Drat, there goes my whole plan for this visit, guess I better just go on my merry way," Gwen jokes, jerking her thumb over her shoulder and turning as if to trudge back through the snow.

[saltwaterlungs]

"Will you take being flipped off instead?" Darcy asks and generously offers Gwen the bird without raising their arm.

"Coucou. If you want tea you can probably go in and bother one of them for some, or like, a blanket. I'm not sharing mine, it's fucking freezing."

[thismaskismybadge]

Gwen snickers and stops pretending to walk away, clearing the distance between her and joining Darcy by shooting webs at the porch ceiling and yanking herself up and over the railing. This is, of course, completely unnecessary, but she's only had webs back for a little while and she's still riding the high of getting to use them again.

"I think I'm good. I am in so many layers right now. There's a hoodie, a leather jacket, and a sweater under this coat." She settles, legs crossed. "So, how're you feeling? Besides vertically restricted."

Phil Connors | OTA

[goodweather]

now they've darkened all the windows [the house] [cw: mentions of suicidal ideation]

Winter is always hard on him. February is the worst, but it doesn't make December easy, and there's a lot of reasons to be unhappy these days. Sometimes it feels like he shouldn't be; he's safe, the kids are safe, they have a home of their own, and despite their circumstances, they're living real lives. But something is still unsettled deep in his chest, and he knows why. His head hasn't been in a good state for months now, and December... some of the most unkind things to happen to him and the rest of the house has happened in December.

Sometimes he finds himself staring in the mirror for too long. Staring into space for too long. Staring at the sky for too long, at cleaners for too long. His talons are long since blunted. He's managing it. He is.

He's rarely in town these days, appearing there for errands and work and not much else; he's got to take care of Darcy. It's good to dote on them for once, and it gives him something to focus on. A duty to stick around for.

It also means he's around for any visitors to the house or calls on his sending stone.

and the seats are naugh-a-hide [the house]

Sometimes he just can't take it. Sometimes he needs to get out of his head.

He remembers turning into a monster back in the Casino. He remembers how it felt; the power of it, the way he was still in his head, still in control, but also the way it... simplified things, in a lot of ways. He knows it comes with some instincts, but being something big, four-legged, and covered in feathers also soothes something in him. Like all the complicated tangles in his chest matter a lot less than hunting for food and feeding the nest. House. The house.

So sometimes he's a big bird monster instead of a human, and sometimes he's curled up napping in front of the fireplace or practicing using thumbs with the new hand configuration.

Sometimes, he's returned from the forest with a deer carcass in his mouth, making twittering and chirping noises as he tries to figure out how to get this inside to feed Yamaha without making a mess of the floor. Someone help him.

i've been waiting for an hour [woods, fields, bluffs, outdoors]

But just as many people can encounter him as a bird monster out of doors. He can be found roaming the wood, trying to learn how to get good at hunting as such a big creature, or soaring over the fields for the same reason. Sometimes he's just roaming, finding himself out by the Bluffs and standing with his feet in the hot springs.

Or sometimes, people are traveling out in the snow. Sometimes there's a shape, some shadowy monster out there. Sometimes there's a scream, a yell, a call for help. And somewhere, something silently takes to the air in answer.

i can't find a place to hide [wildcard]

(( got something else in mind? hmu! ))

Darkened all the windows

[saltwaterlungs]

The signs point to Darcy recovering pretty well, all things considered. This was never going to be a comfortable process, it was always going to require some legwork from their loved ones, but it's nice to be... not as much of a burden as they feared. Especially with the pin, which has made everything much easier.

However, it's still irritating having to ask for basic shit that ordinarily they'd never dream of asking anyone else to do. On this occasion, Phil will hear the floorboards quietly creak as Darcy sneakily gets up to try and retrieve a new book from the shelf, having worked through their stack in their boredom.

[goodweather]

He makes a point of not jumping on them right when he hears them moving about, but like. He does definitely hear it, is the thing.

But he does eventually call out, "C'mon, Darts," from where he's folding laundry with his back turned. "You know I can grab it for you, it takes three seconds."

[saltwaterlungs]

"And it's taking me three seconds," which is a lie, it has already taken a decent period of time between trying to be sneaky and trying to do it slowly and carefully enough to not agitate their stitches, "it's fine, it's a book, I'm not hauling baby Jesus over a river."

Oop- that's a twinge somewhere it shouldn't be, Darcy steadies theirself on the bookshelf and takes a few slow deep breaths. Don't make a noise, do not give Phil reason to worry-

Naught-a-hide

[notinflictthem]

Phil's been quiet since the chill really set in. Now, part of that is understandable- he's mentioned his kid was in for surgery, and with the weather being the way that it is, Hawk wouldn't want to venture all the way into town for just anything, either.

But hey. Sue him for worrying. Some people get gloomy in the cold, and the worst comes the worst, Phil will tell him everything's alright and he should turn around and go home.

So feeling a little like red riding hood in his red scarf and carrying a basket of goodies (a couple of nice beers, a deck of cards, a fresh pie from the bakery that has almost certainly frozen by now but will be fine after some time in the oven), he knocks on the door.

"Housekeeping!" he calls brightly, "or the police! You'll find out which when you open up!"

[goodweather]

Oh, hell, he has to get the door.

"Coming," Phil grumbles in am imicry of his own voice, the sound of it slightly tinny as he warps the vocal chords to conform. He climbs to his four feet and lumbers over to the door, trying very, very hard not to bump into anything with his new stature and his blind side.

It's a good thing Hawk's seen him already, or this would be so hard to explain.

It's also a good thing that he's tall enough at the shoulder to reach the doorknob, but it's still a bit of an awkward reach; there's some scraping noises and knob-jiggering as he says, "I've got four legss right now, I hope you don' mind."

Has he also been practicing talking to himself in the woods? Yes.

[notinflictthem]

Hawk's a little worried by the tone of his voice, but then Phil clarifies and he relaxes just a little. If he's being let in, he'll help Phil with the door however he can.

"Better than one," Hawk offers, raising the basket to indicate to it as the reason he's visiting.

"You uh- you in the middle of something? I can come back later, I just wanted to fly- uh drop by, see if you wanted some company. With how cold it's been I'm about ready to fly the coop myself."

outdoors.

[abhorrently]

There are certain places Fever goes to train alone, the activity more an excuse to burn off energy as anything else these days. The world isn't yet collapsing, and being warm inside is much more comfortable, but she's restless as the season fully sets in. Enough twists and coils in the mind, unsettles the bottom of everything to paint half a shadow on the first winter she can commit to memory.

It leads her outside often enough that the chill isn't a stranger anymore.

On her way back is when she hears a sound that's near enough to catch notice, automatically on guard after monsters have been appearing out of the snow, and diverting, she creeps closer to see, to judge whether she should let it pass or not-

Whoa.

This creature, she witnessed once before, with the others who would voluntarily sit to watch a killing game. And it's that memory that has her staring in a kind of fascination, because this creature is-

"Phil."

cw descriptions of gore

[goodweather]

Fever has found a beautiful monster, one of her dear friends in terrifying and awesome form, embodying the most primal needs of things that are yet alive; he digs into the carcass of a recent kill, incisors slicing through sinew, windpipe and spine giving way beneath the crushing force of his teeth. With a twist of his head, reams of flesh separate from the body, and his talons hold parts of it down so he can better tear it to smaller chunks to swallow. Blood scatters across the snow, and his muzzle steams with the fresh warmth of bloody execution.

Phil has just been caught doing something deeply, deeply embarrassing by one of his closest friends. He stops short and stares like a kid who just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. The piece of meat slides out of his mouth.

"... Uh, I'm still cool, I swear."

[abhorrently]

He's exquisite. There's no need to apologize, to hide behind modesty. Not a single thing about the scene repulses - and after everything he knows about her, does he truly think she would consider this worthy of apology? His embarrassment is self-inflicted, for all she does is walk closer to observe him better. The screens of the fight didn't compare to seeing him like this for herself, this new form.

"Were you somehow not? Please, don't let me interrupt."

Don't let your food get cold.

i've been waiting for an hour (fields)

[yournewsidekick]

...Hey. She knows that bird-dinosaur-thing. Nimona only ran into Phil once like that, during all the chaos of the probe launch -- chaos Nimona was probably 75% responsible for, let's be real -- but you don't forget a monster that metal.

So beneath Phil, snow crunching under her paws, a pink wolf sprints across the fields, keeping pace with the giant shadow he casts.

[goodweather]

Well, there goes field hunting, but honestly he probably wasn't going to find much worth catching anyway. No particularly unlucky deer out here today.

He's far above the ground, but even at this distance, even half-blind, he can make out the shape of her. Pink animals--he remembers something about that. He's fairly sure he'd seen someone like that around the ship, and more than once Darcy's told him about an annoying pink horse with sharp teeth. He hopes this is all the same person, or else he's going to get really confused about an apparent haunting of a multitude of pink animals.

He starts to circle, descending lower; as he does, his head tilts, one bright yellow eye fixed on Nimona.

The sheer power of wings both huge and strong enough to lift something as massive and heavy as him is felt whenever he lands, even as the soft edges of his owlish feathers work to break up their disturbance to the air for the purpose of silent flight. He lands, and despite the small snowstorm he does land quietly, still looking at her, head cocked.

woods :3

[hereticofthewilds]

There is a new creature in the woods. Something big and feathery, so not another Pine Devil. Is it friend or foe? Elsie only knows one way to find out. She ambushes it from her place inside a tree's shadow as it passes by, leaping out and onto Phil's back with a triumphant call. "Hello, monster!"

[goodweather]

Said monster shrieks and bolts, twisting wildly; this is apparently mostly an effect of being startled, though, because when he looks over his back to see a young girl, he comes to a stop, blinking at her with his third eyelid.

He creaks shrilly at her in annoyance and confusion, but does nothing else to try and hurt her or anything. He's just grumpy.

Ruby Rose | OTA

[littlefairytale]

It's just like falling snow, I am above you [house, general]

December isn't her favourite month. Two years ago, she was murdered in her bed; one year ago, she was stuck in a psychological torture village. It's hard not to be braced for something new and terrible to happen, even with her slowly returning ability to feel optimism.

Having the farmhouse helps. Having Darcy's recovery to focus on a little helps, too. Every morning, she gets up, takes her meds with breakfast, chats with whoever's in the common spaces, sees if Darcy needs anything before she has to go, then either goes to work at Infernal Arms or retreats to her workshop to work without having to leave the house depending on how she's feeling.

When she's not working, she's around to talk to any visitors. Usually she's sat curled up in the armchair by the fire with a book and one of her Pokemon (Dachsbun, Mimikyu or Budew), or sometimes she goes out into the land around the house to get some air.

And I love you, don't you know [house, workshop]

When Ruby first set-up her workstation at home, it saw very little use except for finishing up time-sensitive orders and the very occasional burst of desire to make something of her own volition. That's changed in recent weeks. Ruby's started drafting plans for new designs, testing out new methods, and generally taking more of an interest in smithing and other metalwork for the sake of creativity.

In the lead-up to the holidays this is particularly apparent, as she can often be found with the door shut, working away on things for other people. You can knock to be let in and get a, "Waitaminute!" as she scrambles to cover stuff, or you can always catch her at a time when the door is already open as she works on more general things.

She's primarily experimenting with simple, two-part weapons, multi-use tools, and has started making very early forays into wearable tools in the form of jewellery.

That I'll be with you all along, as long as you are kind? [temple]

Another routine Ruby's settled into, outside of the house, is swinging by the temple at least once a week, but often more, to either talk at Celestine about day-to-day things or to just drop off some little thing she's found or made on the altar. From cool rocks to little things she's made with scrap from her workshop.

Catching her there on her way in, out, or kneeling in front of the altar is easy enough.

To those who are not strong and cannot find their scarlet welly boots [wildcard]

This is the 'find her anywhere else in town' or any other unique situation option. Hit me up or just throw something at me.

It's just like falling snow

[saltwaterlungs]

Very early on, while Darcy's still kind of hopped up on ye olde Victorian painkillers-

"Ruby your weird dog is staring at me."

She means Mimikyu.

"Is it doing that python thing of trying to work out if it can eat me?"

[littlefairytale]

Ruby actually looks to see where Drei has got to, at first, before realising the little bread dog is sat in front of the fire becoming a toast dog and very much not staring at Darcy. Only then does she look over to Darcy and see Mimikyu sitting there. Staring.

She covers a quiet laugh behind her hand. "If she wanted to eat one of us she'd have done it by now, Darce."