See you in September, See you when the summer's through...

[batteryacid]

Who: Eddie Kaspbrak (batteryacid) & YOU

What: general recovery from September's events - Eddie is here to listen, friends! (Folks I haven't tagged with yet are also welcome... normal guy is here to be normal about stuff.)

When: after Parade Day and Eddie's resurrection, clean-up after the Big Crab Fight (and in between those events is cool too)

Where: Eddie's farm, etc

Warning(s): discussions of death and violence, attempts to process trauma


[[ OOC: My in-Discord nattering about post-battle logistics comes to fruition here. ]]



Life Goes On
(Open Roleplay | Eddie's Farm)

All things considered, the most annoying thing about getting killed on Parade Day? The fact that Eddie lost his glasses during the process. (If they'd been knocked off during his death, or if losing them was a side effect of whatever process brought him back to life, Eddie didn't know.) If they're still around, maybe someone will bring them to him.

He can cope to a degree with the nearsightedness -- he'd been able to get home on his own -- but no amount of squinting would make the blurry smudges on his seed packets resolve into actual writing. A local and fellow farmer helped him sort out the seeds for planting in the first of his prepared, fenced off plots -- beets, carrots, and cabbage were now arranged in neat rows and watered as needed. He'd have to wait til mid-October to plant potatoes.

Missy still hasn't forgiven him for not coming back to put her in the barn in a timely fashion on Parade Day. The mare didn't care for his explanations that he would have done so had he not been dead at the time. The chickens were less ruffled about it in general, though Eddie was pretty sure that Bobbin had stolen a pen of his. Without his glasses, he could simply be walking by it in the house and never realizing that some particular blur was what he was looking for.

As it is, any visitor to Eddie's farm in the daytime will likely find him giving Missy a brushing, or watering his crops. What brings you by, neighbor?

Commence Commiseration [for River]
(Closed Roleplay | Eddie's Farm)

For the time being, Eddie has moved the nice bed from his bedroom into the room he's now designated 'the guest bedroom' and improvised a straw mattress for himself in lieu of being able to afford more improvements to the farm. Hospitality demands it.

And he doesn't need to read a cookbook to bake bread or improvise a stew, so there's a hearty dinner in the process of being cooked up by the time that River arrives at the farmhouse.

Originally, this arrangement had just been something to keep Eddie from having to deal with nightmares, chattering until he was too tired to even dream. But River seems... subdued, ever since Parade Day. Eddie figures that she needs their talk just as much for herself this time.

Crab Processing
(Open Roleplay | The Beach or the Town)

It's a crab the size of the Greymare Library and now it is dead. Even if every single person on the island ate their fill of the meat for days, they wouldn't get through it all quickly enough. A giant crab rotting on the beach is probably noticeable enough in a variety of ways that it might get around the 'dead bodies disappear when not observed' condition. (The theoretical smell alone...) They're under a curse; worst case scenario is likely to apply.

Hence, a canning operation.

Glass jars are actually being used -- metal cans do unpleasant things to the taste of crab meat -- and everyone who can pitch in to some part of the process has been asked to volunteer. Transport, cleaning, assisting in preparation of the fresh meat as reward packages for those who fought against the Mother Crab...

Also, crab shells are a decent source of calcium carbonate. There's lots of uses for that, such as for building materials like concrete, and medicinally as an antacid or supplement. Once the meat has been extracted, there's a need to break the shell of the legs and body into manageable sized pieces for processing.

Personally, Eddie is getting plenty of catharsis in smashing shell to bits.

Wildcard
Either write your own top-level comment here, or point Eddie to a starter where you'd like him.

Comments

[graveling]

Angel gets to work as well, finding a good smashing rhythm. Softly, under his breath, he hums, as if there's some song he's drumming along to. Quiet-like, not trying to bother anyone.

[batteryacid]

Eddie does take a few more breaks, to carry the broken shell pieces to the transport cart. He's pretty sure that Angel would insist on it, so he just spares them the discussion.

Okay, but... is he imagining it or is Angel smashing (drumming) in the rhythm of an Aerosmith song?

[graveling]

Either that or AC/DC, or even occasionally Black Sabbath, but yeah, definitely rock and roll from Earth.

[batteryacid]

He doesn't recognize all the songs -- from Eddie's perspective, Angel is man from the future -- but catch him humming along to one of the Black Sabbath songs as he picks his hammer up again...

Is he alive or dead?
Has he thoughts within his head?
We'll just pass him there
Why should we even care?

[ OOC: Yeah no, there was no way I was going to resist bringing that one up... 😅 ]

[graveling]

"You know Sabbath?" There's a muted surprise on his face, but it melts into another one of those quicksilver smiles. "Huh."

[batteryacid]

"I wasn't always a boring businessman," Eddie replies, with a grin. "I was still in college studying for my degree when Paranoid came out, and my roommate bought it for my birthday."

[graveling]

"You're not a boring businessman now, either. So."

Angel lets out a low huff that might be a laugh. "I got a job, too, by the way."

[batteryacid]

"Fair enough."

Eddie straightens up to beam at Angel. He's genuinely excited and happy when he asks, "You did? What are you doing now?"

He pauses, considers that question might get him a smartass answer, and amends, "What are you doing for work these days, I mean."

[graveling]

"I've been invited to join the fire brigade."

And yes, a large part of it is his ability to tell fires to just go out. That's very useful, in that line of work.

[batteryacid]

"Do you like it so far?" Eddie asks, thinking it would be strange if he asked something like 'are the other people nice to you', even if that's what he really wants to know.

(Angel's skittishness came from somewhere, and if it's being reinforced...)

[graveling]

"I like knowing I can be helpful to people. To the city. It's good work for me. Nothing too delicate, nothing I'm going to fuck up."

A pause, to pick out the largest pieces of shell and wipe the powder into a container, so he can concentrate on what's left.

"Means I'll be moving out of the tavern, into my own little home."

[batteryacid]

"Best to play to your skills," Eddie agrees. "And I never liked staying in hotels, so I understand why you'd want out of the tavern."

He gathers up another armful of the smaller fragments, and offers, "If you need any repairs around your new place, let me know. I'd be glad to help."

He walks off before Angel can answer, partly to move the shell bits and partly to give Angel time to think about it.

[graveling]

Angel's gaze follows Eddie when he walks away, contemplative. Stormy, but not in the sense of an angry thunderstorm, but a heavy pattering rain when the earth has been dry and arid under the searing sun for too long. Something feels like it might be overflowing, and he hasn't the words for it.

[batteryacid]

Eddie comes back after a little while, smiles brightly at Angel, and reports, "Things are going well! We should be able to get most of the excess into cold storage cellars before anything goes bad. It's mostly only the shells to worry about now."

He nudges at Angel with one elbow, and asks, "You okay? You look about a million miles away."

[graveling]

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Always am fine, really. Sturdy as hell, me." Not what was being asked, but perhaps he doesn't realize that.

[batteryacid]

Eddie raises an eyebrow at the somewhat non sequitur answer.

"Oh sure, always fine," he says lightly, "sturdy brain, too? Seems full of thoughts lately."

[graveling]

Angel's lips purse. He shakes his head slightly. "Thoughts, I'm good with. It's the feelings that are hard for me."

[batteryacid]

"Want to talk about the feelings?" Eddie offers easily. "We don't have to do it here, but I don't think anyone's eavesdropping on us either."

[graveling]

Angel looks up at Eddie for a long moment. Unblinking stare heavy weighted warm.

"Why do you care so much?" It's not a bitter, petulant sort of question, the kind you expect from brooding antiheroes. No, it's just. Curious.

[batteryacid]

"We're friends," Eddie answers. "Caring about each other is what friends do. All the rest of it is just showing that we care."

[graveling]

"Is that how it works?" There's wry humor there, but it doesn't completely hide the sincere confusion. It's all so very new, having a friend.

It's all so very much.

[batteryacid]

"I'm not an expert, but that's how I approach friendship," is the gentle answer to that latest question.

[graveling]

"I care about you, too. I just don't know how best to go about showing it. Be patient with me, while I figure it out? Please?"

Because he does. Want to figure it out. Somehow.

[batteryacid]

"I'll be patient," Eddie assures Angel.

"And, just so you know, you don't need to have a reason to seek me out. We can just spend time together, if you like."

[graveling]

"Maybe on my days off work, I can come spend time on the farm or something." Yes, no, he doesn't need a reason, but he still reaches for wanting to be useful somehow.