Daisy doesn't so much walk in as she does burst in like a wet dog from the rain, all drowned with floppy hair on account of her general stubborn refusal to use umbrellas. Or hoods.
She sags with a tangible relief when she sees him. "Thank christ, you are back."
The odds of someone having broken into the shop were slim but not zero.
Martin smiles awkwardly as he registers the identity of his customer.
"Oh! M-morning, Daisy, you're looking." Wet. "Busy. Were you--- checking in on the shop?"
Feels incredibly weird to talk to her like this. Having watched her die, having seen the thing she became. But Martin still puts Earl Grey leaves and lavender buds into a strainer, like muscle memory. He doesn't even think about it.
"Been walking by to check since it went quiet." She wipes her face and at least shakes her hair out in the doorway, rather than after stepping fully inside. Really not unlike a wet dog shaking itself out, but a little less messy. "Been a few people leaving and not coming back."
Being her, she doesn't say that she was worried that would happen to him and Jon, but it's the implication.
"Ah. Yeah, I remember. It was usually people who hadn't been here long, but sometimes..."
Martin had certainly heard plenty of town gossip from the shop. The chief constable, the owner of Baker Ranch, Gerry's ex-boyfriend... Apparently Dahlia's ex-boyfriend too, but that happened before Martin was here. And maybe also Crichton's?? What is it about ex-boyfriends? Too bad it can't happen to Jon's.
"We actually were specifically asked by Mortanne to go home and come back. Apparently we're going to be... needed. The way we are now. So." He shrugs. "Doesn't seem like we were gone long. It's still spring. Maybe a week, yeah?"
"Thereabouts," Daisy confirms with a sideways nod, finally reaching the counter and leaning against it. "Didn't realise she could just... ask you to go back. S'pose it sort of makes sense."
She doesn't exactly have to guess what they had to go back and live through. Not that she ever told Martin that, even if she did finally get around to telling Jon.
"Y...yeah." The word sounds like Martin had to force it out of himself. Like the first sound got caught in his chest and the rest had to be pushed out. "Daisy, I'm--- sorry we couldn't help you. After what you did for Jon when Trevor and Julia came, I--- I know Jon wanted to help you. He likes to pretend he's this unreadable enigma, but."
Martin sets her cup of tea down in front of her, along with one of those itty-bitty pitchers filled with milk. His hands withdraw quickly so that he can fidget. Not in an anxious way, necessarily, just to help him think.
"Killing me was helping me," Daisy says, voice a touch softer than usual but still firm all the same. The kind of tone she gets when she's the one explaining something difficult that she knows to be true. Subtle as it is. "I didn't live it. Not— the real version."
Nightmares. Ugh. It still makes her shudder to think about.
"I just got the tapes. But I heard enough. At that point, killing me was the best thing any of you could've done for me." She wraps her hands around the cup. Sighs. "...still sorry I put you all through it. 'sira still doesn't know."
"Water under the bridge," Martin assures her. "Glad you didn't stick to leaving me alone forever, by the way. I was, ah. Well, I was a real prick there for a while. I still am, honestly, I'm just better at keeping it buttoned up." The end of the sentence dissolves slightly into awkward laughter.
"Hey. You're talking to the biggest bitch in the Met," she jokes dryly, waving him off. "You were all in your fog and whatever grand plan you had going on. I had arguments with Melanie just as bad. You should've seen her when she heard I signed the contract."
She shakes her head, takes a drink from the tea and exhales again. "Won't pretend it wasn't awkward being yelled out of the room, mind. Pretty funny you turning up here the first time not knowing though."
"Yeah," she snorts. "The weird time stuff never gets less confusing. Only going to get worse for you now, probably. Think you must be ahead of all of us."
With Basira being from before Daisy died, and Melanie being from back when she quit... they're officially the furthest ahead. (Except, of course, for Sam and the other Alice—but this one's not all that aware of their dimensional neighbours.)
A beat. "...what happened? After I died. Didn't get any tapes from after that."
It's not long before his first customer shows up, Shen Qingqiu glowing ever so slightly as he dismisses the rain from his umbrella and the rest of his person with a little spell. "Martin!" The tone of his voice, the look on his face, they all betray how relieved, how pleased he is to see his friend back again, in this place he's meant to be.
...And then he notices what else Martin brought back with him and his demeanor immediately changes to concern, hastily approaching the counter to take his hand and check his pulse. "Oh, Martin," he sighs. "Xiongdi. Are you well? Did Sims come back with you?"
"Shen Qingqiu! God, I feel like I haven't seen you in--- like a year!" As soon as his friend is satisfied with the fact that he indeed has a pulse, Martin pulls him into a bear hug. "Christ, it's good to be back. Yeah, Jon's here! He'll be out in a bit, he's dusting his office aggressively."
He was checking for much more than the presence of Martin's pulse, but he gives it up with a mental shrug as he's pulled into a deep hug. Oof! Well, Lonely or not, he can't be in too bad shape if he's willing to express affection like that!
"It's been a week or so for me, but with no idea when or if you'd ever come back..." He hugs Martin back, patting one broad shoulder. "You scared me, xiongdi. Don't do that again, okay?"
"Wh--- Oh god." Immediately Martin worries that the mice in question are going to be live mice, hurriedly opening the canister and sighing with relief when he sees brightly-colored fabric. "Goodness, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What happened to the tea?"
Nimona laughs. "Dunno. It was like that when I broke in."
Or she might have eaten all of it. Either one!
Nimona springs onto the counter, transforming into a fluid river of pink light and reforming as a teenager. She perches there and idly kicks her heels against the base. "You really oughta get better locks if you're gonna vanish on us for so long. Where've you been?"
On the surface, it sounds flippant enough, but the way she's watching Martin betrays a little bit of worry. She likes the guy. There's always been something about him that's -- weirdly familiar, even though their personalities couldn't be more different.
[Wizard was about as academic a magician as it came. While other practitioners of the art might draw their powers from patrons or natural talent his came from long hours of study and grueling practice. To that end, he derived concentration and focus from the feeling of a study or a well-stocked library as opposed to those more wild mages who seemed to draw energy from being out in nature, but he could not deny that there was a kind of serenity to certain places that defied explanation. It felt like words in a dream, where what they communicate is clear in the moment, but to repeat it or to try putting it into words was as elusive as trying to hold water in your hands. Certain kinds of weather or certain kinds of places had the ability to rejuvinate him more than the most restful of sleeps though, and loathe to admit it as he might be he could see why wildmages clung to places that elicited such a feeling.
The shores of Marrow Isle were such a place for him, and the peaceful calm that could be found there in early mornings or late nights was completely unlike what he'd experienced on the seas of Hydeland. Crashing waves, whirlpools, and Kraken-infested caverns were what awaited those who sought out liesurely beachwalks where he had come from but, while storms and angry waves could still lap at the coast here, he'd found a sort of serenity he'd rarely encountered before as well. The distant sounds of the docks, with the faint ringing of ships bells and the clang of caliper against flagstaff, added that subtle touch of civilization needed for him not to feel cut off from the rest of the world and the fog present on mornings like these added a pleasing combination of mystery and moisture to the air. Constitutionals like these are normally a solitary affair for Wizard, as there's little but the occasional crab for company on the majority of such outings, but the appearance of a figure in the fog both catches him by surprise and informs him that he's not the only one taking in the sea air this morning.]
"Hello?"
[He calls to the figure, not able to make out much beyond an outline.]
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ph_logs2025-05-25 11:16 pm
blackwood brews
Daisy doesn't so much walk in as she does burst in like a wet dog from the rain, all drowned with floppy hair on account of her general stubborn refusal to use umbrellas. Or hoods.
She sags with a tangible relief when she sees him. "Thank christ, you are back."
The odds of someone having broken into the shop were slim but not zero.
no subject
"Oh! M-morning, Daisy, you're looking." Wet. "Busy. Were you--- checking in on the shop?"
Feels incredibly weird to talk to her like this. Having watched her die, having seen the thing she became. But Martin still puts Earl Grey leaves and lavender buds into a strainer, like muscle memory. He doesn't even think about it.
no subject
"Been walking by to check since it went quiet." She wipes her face and at least shakes her hair out in the doorway, rather than after stepping fully inside. Really not unlike a wet dog shaking itself out, but a little less messy. "Been a few people leaving and not coming back."
Being her, she doesn't say that she was worried that would happen to him and Jon, but it's the implication.
no subject
Martin had certainly heard plenty of town gossip from the shop. The chief constable, the owner of Baker Ranch, Gerry's ex-boyfriend... Apparently Dahlia's ex-boyfriend too, but that happened before Martin was here. And maybe also Crichton's?? What is it about ex-boyfriends? Too bad it can't happen to Jon's.
"We actually were specifically asked by Mortanne to go home and come back. Apparently we're going to be... needed. The way we are now. So." He shrugs. "Doesn't seem like we were gone long. It's still spring. Maybe a week, yeah?"
no subject
"Thereabouts," Daisy confirms with a sideways nod, finally reaching the counter and leaning against it. "Didn't realise she could just... ask you to go back. S'pose it sort of makes sense."
She doesn't exactly have to guess what they had to go back and live through. Not that she ever told Martin that, even if she did finally get around to telling Jon.
"...the apocalypse. Right?"
no subject
Martin sets her cup of tea down in front of her, along with one of those itty-bitty pitchers filled with milk. His hands withdraw quickly so that he can fidget. Not in an anxious way, necessarily, just to help him think.
"Well, I owe you one."
no subject
"Killing me was helping me," Daisy says, voice a touch softer than usual but still firm all the same. The kind of tone she gets when she's the one explaining something difficult that she knows to be true. Subtle as it is. "I didn't live it. Not— the real version."
Nightmares. Ugh. It still makes her shudder to think about.
"I just got the tapes. But I heard enough. At that point, killing me was the best thing any of you could've done for me." She wraps her hands around the cup. Sighs. "...still sorry I put you all through it. 'sira still doesn't know."
no subject
no subject
"Hey. You're talking to the biggest bitch in the Met," she jokes dryly, waving him off. "You were all in your fog and whatever grand plan you had going on. I had arguments with Melanie just as bad. You should've seen her when she heard I signed the contract."
She shakes her head, takes a drink from the tea and exhales again. "Won't pretend it wasn't awkward being yelled out of the room, mind. Pretty funny you turning up here the first time not knowing though."
no subject
no subject
"Yeah," she snorts. "The weird time stuff never gets less confusing. Only going to get worse for you now, probably. Think you must be ahead of all of us."
With Basira being from before Daisy died, and Melanie being from back when she quit... they're officially the furthest ahead. (Except, of course, for Sam and the other Alice—but this one's not all that aware of their dimensional neighbours.)
A beat. "...what happened? After I died. Didn't get any tapes from after that."
Blackwood Brews
...And then he notices what else Martin brought back with him and his demeanor immediately changes to concern, hastily approaching the counter to take his hand and check his pulse. "Oh, Martin," he sighs. "Xiongdi. Are you well? Did Sims come back with you?"
no subject
no subject
"It's been a week or so for me, but with no idea when or if you'd ever come back..." He hugs Martin back, patting one broad shoulder. "You scared me, xiongdi. Don't do that again, okay?"
blackwood brews
At his feet sits a bright pink cat, idly grooming one paw without a care in the world.
(Luckily, if Martin does open the canister labeled LEMON GREEN, he'll only find a bunch of toy mice Nimona's been slowly nicking from the pet store.)
no subject
no subject
Or she might have eaten all of it. Either one!
Nimona springs onto the counter, transforming into a fluid river of pink light and reforming as a teenager. She perches there and idly kicks her heels against the base. "You really oughta get better locks if you're gonna vanish on us for so long. Where've you been?"
On the surface, it sounds flippant enough, but the way she's watching Martin betrays a little bit of worry. She likes the guy. There's always been something about him that's -- weirdly familiar, even though their personalities couldn't be more different.
Morning Fog
The shores of Marrow Isle were such a place for him, and the peaceful calm that could be found there in early mornings or late nights was completely unlike what he'd experienced on the seas of Hydeland. Crashing waves, whirlpools, and Kraken-infested caverns were what awaited those who sought out liesurely beachwalks where he had come from but, while storms and angry waves could still lap at the coast here, he'd found a sort of serenity he'd rarely encountered before as well. The distant sounds of the docks, with the faint ringing of ships bells and the clang of caliper against flagstaff, added that subtle touch of civilization needed for him not to feel cut off from the rest of the world and the fog present on mornings like these added a pleasing combination of mystery and moisture to the air. Constitutionals like these are normally a solitary affair for Wizard, as there's little but the occasional crab for company on the majority of such outings, but the appearance of a figure in the fog both catches him by surprise and informs him that he's not the only one taking in the sea air this morning.]
"Hello?"
[He calls to the figure, not able to make out much beyond an outline.]
"Who's that out in the fog?"