Edward "Eddie" Kaspbrak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
batteryacid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2023-09-13 10:07 pm
batteryacid) wrote in ph_logs2023-09-13 10:07 pm
See you in September, See you when the summer's through...
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.
batteryacid) & YOUWhat: 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.
no subject
"I don't plan on it," River admits with a grimace. She takes the wet cloth and wipes at the blood while it's still fresh and before it can burn onto her arm; the flakes are a bitch to actually remove, and also the smell of sizzling blood lingers for months. No thank you. "I haven't tried summoning one of the demons from back home, and I think I'm gonna keep not trying that, but that kinda large-scale work does get done without, you know, carving anyone up. Mainly my worry is calling one of the locals instead when I don't know how to deal with them. First rule of summoning: don't call up what you can't put down."
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And that mention does remind him of a question he'd asked before, of Gerard Keay -- as Eddie helps steady River's other arm, he asks, "By the way, have you ever heard anything about a giant cosmic turtle?" After a moment, he clarifies, "the turtle was not the primordial evil."
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"Seems to me that turtles'd make pretty good cosmic beings though. They're chill."
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He does what he can to help River finish up re-carving her sigils. And offers her a fresh damp cloth to wipe off her other arm when she's finished.
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"...Thank you. As much as I don't like the idea of...something like that...happening to me again, I'm kinda stuck for this now. Gonna be cutting myself up when I'm an old lady. Just wish..."
"...I'm supposed to be here to help people. If my brain keels over for every harpy song or pair of magic tits on this fucking island that's gonna make helping people difficult. My sister knows how to make charms that resist mental control but I sure fucking don't."
no subject
Eddie carefully picks up the bowl and rinses it for now, then sets it in a separate basin to soak. (Hey, some plants like blood meal. Might not be a bad idea to use this 'waste water' on a portion of the crop... just got to mark it properly.)
"I'm not much help on the magic part of things. I don't even know how much it works around here, and there wasn't much of it back home for me -- if any." Eddie reaches out to lightly pat River's shoulder. "But... have you considered that you don't always have to be on the front line to be helpful?"
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"Don't look at me like that. It's not a stupid question."
He goes over to the stove, gives the stew one last stir, and then ladles a portion each into two clean wooden bowls that he carries to the table. As he approaches, he starts talking again,
"Everyone is outside their comfort zone here. This isn't the world you came from, just like it's not mine. We are firmly in adapt or die territory here." Off he goes to fetch the fresh-baked bread that's been cooling on the wooden cutting board. He places it on the table. "Except it's more like adapt or die-and-yet-never-die-in-an-endless cycle."
no subject
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He pours beer for River and himself. Then he murmurs a soft, quick blessing over the food when he finally sits down at the table.
no subject
River's mouth: "Uuuurrrggghhhhrughhhffffuuuuck I hate that you're riiiiight."
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wrap? (timeskip if you like)
It's nice to speak with someone who is straightforward. Eddie really enjoys talking with River, just in general. He counts her as a friend. So he's glad to see that some of her gloom has lifted, even just temporarily, during their discussion.