[Post Canon Update Open Log] Wasteland, Baby!

[lofi_charm]

Wasteland, Baby!

The Day That We Watched The Death of the Sun [ Blackwood Brews ]

It's a rainy morning when Blackwood Brews reopens, brass keys jangling loudly as Martin pulls them from his pocket. It's strange to be back here. There's this constant feeling that there's another shoe waiting to drop. A phantom Sword of Damocles. Pumpkin Hollow is far from perfect, certainly, but it's that familiar imperfect, predictable and comparatively easy. But after everything that he and Jon endured for... however long, Martin's already forgotten what Jon said it was aside from it feeling far too short... Some of those worlds within the world, they felt so... real. Dreamlike and permanent, like they'd been there forever. The sick village comes to mind. Not to mention that dreadful house.

The scent of tea leaves snaps Martin from his introspection. There's a bit of dust. He should get that cleaned up before Jon gets here with the pastry order from Max.

Water boils as rain falls outside. Dishes are washed, tea sets prepared. The dark wood and bookshelf-lined walls of the shop feel cozy under the rainy sky.

Martin almost doesn't notice as someone finally enters once the shop is open.

He startles lightly, snapped out of his stupor as the bell on the door rings. "Oh--- Hello there! Welcome in! Have a seat wherever you like. Can I get anything started for you?"

The Cloud & The Cold & Those Jeans You Have On [ Morning Fog ]

Sometimes, in the very, very early morning, the fog will be much thicker than usual as it rolls in off the shoreline.

A figure stands on the beach, in the very thick of it, silhouette almost obscured despite its size. A Thermos-like flask in hand, Martin gazes out at the sea.

He came here to be alone. Mornings on the shore are quiet if you stand far away enough from the marina. Between the distance and the effects of his Lonely fog, the far-off shouting of the crew of the Mipha's Grace as they load up their ship for the day sounds almost unreachably distant, like the echo of another world. A world of people and gatherings, so otherworldly to Martin's solitude.

During their apocalyptic hike and their stay at the safehouse, Jon and Martin were separated meaningfully... maybe twice? In all that time that felt like years, just a few brief moments apart. And Martin loves Jon more than anything or anyone, but a thing like him... Well, he's always needed a healthy dose of solitude to think straight, and he won't find that at the cottage or at the tea shop.

But maybe occasionally it won't hurt to be interrupted, to be kept from sinking too deep. Either by a friend or a fellow seeker of a moment's peace in a loud and busy world.

You Gaze Unafraid as They Sob from the City Ruins
[Closed to Jon]

As things slowly start easing back to normal, Martin and Jon spend fewer and fewer days laid up in bed, dead to the world. But every so often, they take a day to themselves to just be.

Martin has been almost ghost-like, his own struggles to reconnect with this world drawing the Lonely to him in noticeable but largely innocuous ways. (Aside from a bit of fog in the house, but what can you do.) Jon is woken on a lazy morning not by hands and a lover's voice, but the phantom of a kiss to the forehead, the cloying smell of bacon being cooked, and the sound of the ocean through a window that was not open the night before. Traces of Martin's presence.

Jon will find the other man out on the patio, breakfast laid out on their garden table overlooking the bluffs. "Morning," Martin murmurs, smiling with a warmth reserved only for Jon these days. "Hope I didn't wake you too early."

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Comments

blackwood brews

[hadnoright]

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.

Blackwood Brews

[xiaoxiuya]

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?"

blackwood brews

[yournewsidekick]

"Don't open the lemon green canister," says a voice from around ankle height. "I put my mice in there."

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.)

Morning Fog

[substitutiarylocomotion]

[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.]

"Who's that out in the fog?"

You Gaze Unafraid as They Sob from the City Ruins

[apocryphalarchivist]

It's a slow stir, but not an unpleasant one; thankfully, Jon's started to get past the stage of their return, where he's woken up to anxious dread, wondering when the other shoe would drop, when the dream would end. Normalcy in the mundane and in the "cursed" aspect of the island have been enough to shake those worries - and what a pleasant surprise that it's the former, this time around.

Peeling himself out of bed, Jon pulls on his robe hanging from the back of the bedroom door, padding slowly out into the world. First, to the kitchen, then, outside, where he finds Martin. His own smile is just as warm, even with the tinges of sleep-haze that cling to his face.

"Not too early at all. I've got to stop being dead to the world eventually, I suppose," he half-jokes, moving to take his own seat. "The entire house smells fantastic, by the way. What all did you make?"