saltwaterlungs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saltwaterlungs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-12-21 01:35 pm
saltwaterlungs) wrote in ph_logs2024-12-21 01:35 pm
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.”
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.”
now they've darkened all the windows [the house] [cw: mentions of suicidal ideation]
and the seats are naugh-a-hide [the house]
i've been waiting for an hour [woods, fields, bluffs, outdoors]
i can't find a place to hide [wildcard]
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! ))
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.
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.
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!"
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!"
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.
"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.
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."
"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."
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."
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."
"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-
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-
He manages the knob open, then drops back to all fours; his gray snout pushes into the crack to wedge it open enough for Hawk to come in.
"Juss' pra'ticing how to usse these hands." And sleeping, honestly, but. "Darcy's on the couch. Ruubey at the forge. 'Mitri in the field."
His whole head is turned so as to keep Hawk in his sightline as he shuts the door and they move into the house. "You're jusst visiting? All the way out here?"
"Juss' pra'ticing how to usse these hands." And sleeping, honestly, but. "Darcy's on the couch. Ruubey at the forge. 'Mitri in the field."
His whole head is turned so as to keep Hawk in his sightline as he shuts the door and they move into the house. "You're jusst visiting? All the way out here?"
Hawk does the polite thing and doffs his hat, scarf, and coat, wiping his shoes on the mat before following Phil in. He shakes the snow off his basket too, removing his gloves with his teeth before answering.
"Uhuh- I was in the neighbourhood and thinking of you. Just making sure you're not getting cabin fever out there. Is Darts healing up okay?" he asks, rifling through the basket to show one of the beers, "can you still have one of these or should I leave them in the ice box for you? I uh- I tried to bring something for you all to share but if you stay still out there too long you'll turn into a popsicle."
"Uhuh- I was in the neighbourhood and thinking of you. Just making sure you're not getting cabin fever out there. Is Darts healing up okay?" he asks, rifling through the basket to show one of the beers, "can you still have one of these or should I leave them in the ice box for you? I uh- I tried to bring something for you all to share but if you stay still out there too long you'll turn into a popsicle."
He half-turns; not quite facing them, but he's paused in folding laundry. He'd rather convince them first before he just swoops in.
"I'm not the one who just got their pecs chopped up," he quips back. "C'mon. Call it payback for looking after me when I was sick."
"I'm not the one who just got their pecs chopped up," he quips back. "C'mon. Call it payback for looking after me when I was sick."
"You didn't choose to get sick," Darcy corrects, their voice sounding a little tight, "I chose to do this, and I'm not dying."
Another few deep breaths- supporting theirself on the bookshelf is really not helping with the feeling of it twinging, so they shift to thunk their shoulder against it instead, leaning against it.
"You don't owe me anything, I didn't do it to get paid back."
Another few deep breaths- supporting theirself on the bookshelf is really not helping with the feeling of it twinging, so they shift to thunk their shoulder against it instead, leaning against it.
"You don't owe me anything, I didn't do it to get paid back."
There's that pigeon cooing sound again, if said pigeon was a predator bigger than a polar bear; it's longer and deeper, with an enormous, crocodilian bellowing sound rattling beneath it, as Phil nuzzles his snout against Hawk's shoulder. "We're sso far out of town. You really didn't have to."
Walking towards the hearth, because he will not be sitting Hawk anywhere else after his apparent long trek through the cold, "Darts healing okay. And I thin' I can eat anything I usually would? Haven't tessted it."
He does know a new thing about his dietary capacities now, though, which is that raw meat and offal is a recent addition. A few of his catches in the woods tasted a little too nice.
Walking towards the hearth, because he will not be sitting Hawk anywhere else after his apparent long trek through the cold, "Darts healing okay. And I thin' I can eat anything I usually would? Haven't tessted it."
He does know a new thing about his dietary capacities now, though, which is that raw meat and offal is a recent addition. A few of his catches in the woods tasted a little too nice.
Edited 2024-12-21 07:22 (UTC)
"I know you didn't." Yeah, he's turned around now. "Look, it's okay. It's really okay. If you need rest, you need rest, there's no point in risking busting your stitches again," he points a pair of socks at them, "and if they do, you're gonna have to tell Watson why."
Aw. He gives Phil a little affectionate scritch and leans his head against Phil's snout. That's kinda sweet. He's got to never give Watson guff for dating a bird ever again.
"Eh, I know, I'm just nice," he pulls up a chair to dutifully warm himself back up, setting the basket down beside him, "and hey- if it turns out you're under werewolf-dog-chocolate rules, you have a medical professional supervising," he jokes.
"Good to see you, though. I've missed you stopping by."
"Eh, I know, I'm just nice," he pulls up a chair to dutifully warm himself back up, setting the basket down beside him, "and hey- if it turns out you're under werewolf-dog-chocolate rules, you have a medical professional supervising," he jokes.
"Good to see you, though. I've missed you stopping by."
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."
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."
A loud huff that is absolutely not just mostly masking heavier breathing, Darcy picks a book at random- a knightly romance and not just the almanac, thankfully- then heaves off the shelf to make their way back over.
"Alright. Fine. Going back to the couch. Look, I'm going."
It doesn't feel like a stitch has pulled, but they're definitely regretting it by the time they're halfway back.
"Alright. Fine. Going back to the couch. Look, I'm going."
It doesn't feel like a stitch has pulled, but they're definitely regretting it by the time they're halfway back.
He gives a light little snort as Hawk leans his head against his. God, he's so glad that this shape hasn't put him off.
"Owls don't eat vegetables, and I definitely feel like crap if I don't eat any." So there. Plus he still has molars, that has to mean something in magical shapeshift land, right?
"'ve missed seeing you," he chuffs as he settles down on the floor alongside Hawkeye's chair. "'S just that 'm looking after Darcy. And December is... hard. For all four of us. Haven' had good Decembers in a while."
"Owls don't eat vegetables, and I definitely feel like crap if I don't eat any." So there. Plus he still has molars, that has to mean something in magical shapeshift land, right?
"'ve missed seeing you," he chuffs as he settles down on the floor alongside Hawkeye's chair. "'S just that 'm looking after Darcy. And December is... hard. For all four of us. Haven' had good Decembers in a while."
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."
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."
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."
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."
Edited 2024-12-21 08:35 (UTC)
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."
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."
Hawk reaches down to give Phil another little scritch, then reaches for his keys to open one of the bottles. The one good thing about having old-timey churchkeys is that they function as, well. A churchkey. He sets one down in front of Phil, then sorts his own out.
"Not a big fan of Christmas?" he asks, mildly.
"Not a big fan of Christmas?" he asks, mildly.
He watches them go. Is quiet for a little. Then sighs, very gently.
“Look, I… I’m not trying to just be a dick about you doing what the doctor says. It’s just—you work so hard, and I respect and admire you for that, but because you work so hard and do so much, I just want to make sure that you know how to rest too. Especially when you really need it. Even engines need maintenance. And if the engineers do a shoddy job of it, then it just crashes harder later and gets harder to fix.”
“Look, I… I’m not trying to just be a dick about you doing what the doctor says. It’s just—you work so hard, and I respect and admire you for that, but because you work so hard and do so much, I just want to make sure that you know how to rest too. Especially when you really need it. Even engines need maintenance. And if the engineers do a shoddy job of it, then it just crashes harder later and gets harder to fix.”
”’S not the holiday, ‘s the date.” He takes a moment to work out how to drink from a bottle like this. He has lips, but like, they’re not that mobile. A bowl would probably be easier.
Oh well. He tilts his head back and pours it very carefully down his tongue in his maw.
Putting it down, ”But. No. ‘S a long and compl’gated and… upssetting sstory. So.”
Oh well. He tilts his head back and pours it very carefully down his tongue in his maw.
Putting it down, ”But. No. ‘S a long and compl’gated and… upssetting sstory. So.”
Page 1 of 6