logsinthenight | dock rebuild

Entry tags:

dock rebuild | ota / mingle

characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Daylight, Eleven, Stone, Eliot and YOU
location: The docks
date/time: Early Nov through Nov 11th
content: A mingle log for rebuilding the docks and/or generally if you'd like to have your character help with a mini-project. Feel free to throw up your own TLs! I am also still on slowatus until the 6th but wanted to put this up with ample time before Sandman!
warnings: N/A. If you would like to handwave your involvement, please just lmk and I'll add you to a list or something so everyone can just assume your character was around

The wood, cut and planked, sits in a pile on the beach, covered in whatever tarp-like object can be found to keep it from getting wet. On the bright side, the ferry comes in when they finish gathering supplies for the dock - so they don't have to gather more, and they don't have to rebuild a ferry. Still, large trunks are prepared for weather and hammered into the water, and don't get much of a chance to stand alone before a small group of people descend on them to cobble together a little dock. Not as grand nor as finely-made as the previous one, it will be nonetheless sturdy and usable, with hopefully no further changes for the last two years it may need to exist.

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ONE
[ He wipes his brow as he puts one of the planks in and then looks up to check their progress. That was a mistake; they've got a long way to go. ]

Goodness.

[ Nails hanging precariously out of his mouth and hair standing up on all ends as he gets up form his spot to go get more wood. ]

TWO
[ On the bright side of having so much wood around, it's easy to pop a squat and have a little lunch break. Aziraphale unwraps a sandwich and then looks up right before he takes a big bite. He pauses. ]

Have you brought anything to eat? Would you like some?

[ trust aziraphale to always be the sweetest guy around, even if he did take a healthy bite before offering. he'd only just restacked a slightly higher pile for himself to sit against, using magic of course. being tall has its disadvantages sometimes. ]

Oh, you needn't worry on my behalf. I've got some leftover pizza. [ cold, tucked into a hammerspace pocket, but pizza nonetheless. it's a good time actually eat though, probably, and after considering it for a moment, he reaches into his coat and pulls out the neatly folded parchment packet containing his lunch. ]

What kind is it? [ he nods toward the sandwich. ]

[ He'd only thought Eliot hadn't packed himself anything to eat, and that would be a complete shame. He's a young man who looks like he ate well in life, and should continue doing so to stay strong. ]

It's just cheese and pickle.

[ He won't explain that it's the fourth such time he's eaten this exact sandwich, eaten and pulled out of his stomach fully formed, since he doesn't like the process of digestion. It's not exactly lunch table talk.

He has a more pressing thought on his mind anyway. ]

Where on Earth did you find pizza?

[ cheese and...pickle? hm. well. if that's what he's into.

were aziraphale to actually explain his groundhog day sandwich, eliot actually wouldn't be too bothered as he's seen more than his share of disgusting things to really understand what disgust means anymore, but it's probably all the better that no one else needs to hear whatever the angel has to say about it.

besides, he'd much rather have pizza talk so he can preen a bit. ]

Oh, I didn't find it. [ eliot gives a pleasant laugh. ] I made it. Have been making it. Quentin wanted pizza the first day we got here so. And maybe the first attempts weren't complete successes but. I feel like I can make pizza in my sleep now.

[ or at least, the repetitive task of cooking has never been anything but stress relief for someone like eliot that finds pleasure from playing host to others. ]

Stone knows next to nothing about building. He's basically there to be big, strong(-ish), and hold things that would otherwise require multiple people or be very awkward for a human-sized person to hold. It also helps to have someone who can stand in the water without being in over his head, and Stone's winged form can do that in most places.

He also attempts to perch on the pylon logs once they're sunk, even jump on them a little in an attempt to get them wedged further down. It's a kind of funny picture, a big ghostly dragon-like thing hopping up and down on a log sticking out of the water, wings tightly folded but spines and frills all flopping around his head and shoulders.

However, he may be a shapeshifting dragon person, but he is still old, and has lost most of his muscle mass and magical strength in the past year or two. He requires a lot of sitting to one side catching his breath and letting his tired, sometimes-trembling limbs rest. He spends those rest periods in groundling form, so he can chat. Or, more appropriately, grouse. "I hate being old," he grumbles more than once. "If this were two years ago, I could keep going for hours."

Crowley, being the adult that he is, is sucking on a lollipop and not helping at all. He's here, which is really all he promised Aziraphale he'd do. Besides, he moved one of the planks earlier and that was plenty helpful. He stares at the dragon person.

"What are you supposed to be, then?"

No one ever said Crowley was made out of tact and love.

You did?

Oh, how wonderful.

[ Quentin is so lucky, he thinks, to have a friend like Eliot to take care of him, because he knows that Quentin is the type to get lost in a pile of books and forget to eat or sleep. He's cut from the same cloth. ]

I'm sure it will be just as good cold as it was hot. Though I can start you a fire, if you want. Won't make any light, but it should give off heat.

[ And it won't be as good as fresh out of the oven, but Eliot knows that. Aziraphale can help him cheat it a bit. ]

The dragon person eyes him, right back. Maybe weirdly, his face looks a lot like the kraken's face (from the show, anyway), complete with a lot of spines. Being in full-on winged form, he can't really answer, but he can hop off the pylon he was trying to push further into the river muck and shift back to groundling form. The colorless dragon disappears in a cloud of dark mist, which doesn't really stand out much against the general darkness all around them, and then it dissipates and reveals an equally colorless old man.

"I'm a Raksura," he answers, readily enough. "Why do you ask? Just curious?"

[The nails and the hair are almost enough to make Aziraphale less scary. Almost.

The Soldier silently holds out a hand for the nails from where it's waiting (they're waiting; the Soldier is still getting used to this new non-thing pronoun Crowley introduced) by the wood pile, because that really doesn't look safe.]

Oh god, oh my god--please be careful.

[Like, he also puts nails ins his mouth like a fucking idiot but seeing other people do it is really putting him on edge.]

I just, I don't want anyone to get tetanus.

[Since they've got plenty of individuals with manpower...more manpower than he, himself, can provide, he realizes, Remington has instead mostly taken it upon himself to help direct others who may be in need of directing. He has a set of hand-drawn blueprints spread out in front of him, which he's happy to share with anyone who wants a look, and as many tools as he's been able to find strapped around his waist.]

Um, yeah...okay, that looks good! Oh, could you, um, put that one over there?

[He's not assertive, but he's sure trying.]

[She isn't quite sure what she feels when it comes to Remington.

There's anger, of course. It's very hard not to be angry when someone comes at you with an ax and a mission statement. But on the other hand, it wasn't really him, was it? Or, well-- it was and wasn't. She'd seen as many hallucinations as anyone, and god knows she knows how compelling they were.

So she's angry, yes. But not enough to truly take revenge on him. Besides: why bother lingering in her rage when her time could be better spent on other pursuits? Like, say, learning why he'd felt compelled to attack her. That didn't come out of nowhere.

But he's skittish, so she'll have to do this carefully.]

Don't ask. Assert.

[She says it quietly, but note that he listens, because that's what she demands in her tone.]

Order them. If you truly know what you're doing-- and I imagine you do-- then guide them. People take well to orders. They typically want someone to follow.

It may as well be you.

[THANKS?]

[Hurk--

Does Remi practically rip his blueprints in half in his mixture of terror and befuddlement and the overall constant state of embarrassment at himself? Yeah, but, he catches himself and tries to keep his hands from gripping the paper so tightly.]

Right.

[He tries to glance at the other workers more than at her. The guilt: it's crushing.]

I'm not really used to leading...anybody. Ever. So it's, uh...an adjustment.

Yes, I can tell.

[She glances over at him. Is she angry? Upset? Amused? It's impossible to say. She won't blame him for that attack, no, but no harm in seeing him squirm a little.]

Go on. Try it.

[It takes him a flinching moment. He has to, like, compose himself. And then he directs:]

Move that plank horizontally for additional support.

[It's almost a total success. But then, before he can stop himself:]

Please.

Remington.

[BRUH.]

I'm sorry!

[He hangs his head in shame. Shame, shame!!!]

That was better, though, wasn't it?

[Is she sorry? No.]

It was a start.

[Grudging, but he's right: it was better than before.]

Why is it you're compelled to let others get their way?

...a long history of disappointing my parents?

[At least he was incredibly honest about that one.]

So you're eager not to disappoint others, hoping they'll provide the maternal and paternal affection you never received.

[Interesting. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but rather something so radically different from her own perspective.]

Personally, I find it more satisfying to demand satisfaction from them, not the other way around.

I guess that's one way to look at it. A really, way too on the nose way to look at it.

[A way that he knows is probably true but he tries not to think about it because wow that's pathetic as hell. Can you imagine going around to people and just telling them hi I had a real frustrating relationship with my parents and never truly felt loved until I met my girlfriend in my teenage years, but oh boy is that a whole 'nother can of worms.

No, you don't fucking lead with that shit.]

I guess I don't think much about what would or wouldn't be a satisfying way to approach things.

[ He makes his way over and then hands him some nails in exchange for the wood. ]

Would you like to come help nail these in?

Oh, don't worry, I don't think I can get tetatus.

[ He holds out a hand, and thankfully does remove the nails with the other one. ]

I'm Aziraphale.

[Much better. Now not only will he not accidentally puncture his face or anything, he can talk properly, too.]

Sure. If you keep the nails out of your mouth.

[That very faint scold is probably the most assertive the Soldier's been with Aziraphale outside of being the Sergeant.]

Remington.

[He shakes Aziraphale's hand, though it's kind of a frantic action.]

Remi's fine. And you're probably right. I'm just, ah...I worry.

[He's mostly assuming that the dead can't get tetanus. Those who assume...]

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dock rebuild | ota / mingle

aziraphale | ota

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