apocalypsehowcomm | Log - Restoring Bonnie's Flophouse: Part 2

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Log - Restoring Bonnie's Flophouse: Part 2 - Open

Who: Mercy Graves & OTA
When: Throughout September, October, and November when things aren't going horribly wrong
Where: Bonnie's Flophouse
Summary: The completion log for working on repairs to Bonnie's Flophouse that is part of a Player Plot. At the conclusion, the Flophouse will be a nicer residence to stay in than it currently is! For September and October, the focus is on fixing the wiring/improving the electrics, and interior repairs/improvements.
Warnings: Please just put them in subject lines if they come up!

🦊WIRED🪦

The Flophouse's electricity situation is a tenuous one. While the building repairs thus far have sorted out the damage being done every time it rains, this is still an old New England building with esoteric wiring that seems primed to start fires, rather than prevent them. A full rework would really be for the best, especially with the hope that they can tie in a refurbished generator or two to make sure the lights stay on here, even if there's some sort of city-wide blackout. At least of the mundane variety.

There's plenty of new-ish copper wiring and energy-efficient outlets to install. A lot of these seem to have been gathered from somewhere, but maybe it's best not to ask about the specifics. The materials are available! Hurrah! Amateurs may find themselves being zapped as they work or more significantly injured if they're not careful enough. Current residents of the Flophouse may find their power going out at odd hours and without warning, as well, as people make mistakes or breaker switches are flipped to try to figure out what the unlabeled ones are actually connected to. Maybe it's a good time to complain to the... non-existent manager around here.

🦊WHAT FABULOUS WINDOW TREATMENTS🪦

The final touches on the Flophouse are attended to once plumbing and wiring are fixed and walls are back in place. There are doors and cabinets that don't close properly because they were set incorrectly. There are rotted floorboards that really need to be replaced. There are walls to paint and appliances to tool around with to make them just that little bit better. And there are all manner of decorative things to attend to for those who like to make a home, well... homey! Bonnie has her bohemian style, but she's willing to allow some changes in the name of upgrades.

Just be careful your work isn't 'fixed' by someone else who doesn't like your tastes. Or work it out in a sensible manner: duel to first blood in the side alley?

🦊IN MEMORIUM🪦

Perhaps it's a morbid thing to have a room dedicated to the missing and the lost, but with Garner's death and so many other disappearances, it seems important to Mercy that there should be something there. The Flophouse is restored as much as a large group effort can manage. There are smaller things that will always need tending to in a building this old, even with the refurbishment, but there are more rooms than there are people living here at the moment, so she doesn't think it will be wasted space, at least.

In Room 1 on the first floor of Bonnie's Flophouse, a memorial has been created. The room is painted a simple, soft blue and the name of each missing or dead person from another world is painted in blocky brown letters from the ceiling down to the base board. The current list takes up nearly one wall, but there's plenty of room for other names. In the center of the wall, there are a few lines:

Those spoken of and to are never dead
Simply past us on the road ahead

On either wall next to the one with the names, there are narrow tables kept stocked with cheap tealights. There are more within one of the table drawers. There's also vases that can be filled with a small bunch of flowers. There aren't any chairs, but there are some mismatched floor pillows in a basket near the door. This is a place for contemplation and sharing stories of those found in this place and passed on to elsewhere.

🦊WILDCARD🪦

Is your character pursuing a more solo-project or something that's not electric repairs/improvements or interior work? Maybe they're on the hunt for materials... or a way to make extra cash for the job. Maybe they're bringing in ill-got goods to work with. Whatever it might be, have at it!

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WIRED
"Oh, that ain't right..." Mercy pulls a face as the lights around her flicker. There's an electric popping sound, and everything goes dark. Her rubber gloves have saved her from something worse, but the first attempt at replacing a socket on her own hasn't gone over as well as she'd hoped. Her hands were made for working with bodies and wood, not wires and bottled lightning.

She spots someone looking in on the hallway where she's knelt. "Sorry! Sorry, I'll fix it! Just gotta... um. You got a torch handy, maybe?"

WHAT FABULOUS WINDOW TREATMENTS
"What do you think about orange for this room? We got a lot of extra orange paint to use up." Mercy has no idea who purchased the excess of bright orange paint, but here it is, available for use. And there's no sense in letting it go to waste while they go out and buy a different color. "Orange is... happy! It'll be the happiest room in the Flophouse. Even when everything else is going wrong. Right?"

IN MEMORIUM
Mercy knows she's spending more time in here than she should. Thinking kindly on the dead is to be encouraged among her people. Remembering them and speaking of them. But this dwelling... it sits in her chest like a weight, recalling memories of another time when she'd felt lost and adrift, when so many of her connections had been severed, leaving her with just her family and their god. A god she doesn't know how to feel about anymore.

She's kneeling on one of the pillows in the room, hands working at sewing some finer details into a skirt as she thinks and speaks softly. "We finished with the Flophouse, Garner. I know you couldn't see it, but I-I think you would've liked the feel to it. The floors don't creak or sag so much, and we smoothed out a lot of the rough edges. Not all of them, mind you. Every home needs a little bit of character that way. I told them about you wanting to be cremated for your people's ways. You probably already know that, though. I hope you're with the Dawnfather now. I been trying to do a little prayer for you to him in the mornings. Wish I'd... I wish I'd ask more about him. About everything about you. Ava's dead, too. That's something. Small favors. You did good helping defeat her. A real hero's send off."

• in memorium

She is, in a word, devastated.

Katrina stands before the wall, wearinc one of Garner's pendants, a conch shell in her hands. By now she is past wailing; her people grieve openly, weep and cry out and allow the horrible pain to flow out from them as violently as it filled them. Now, she is ready to honor him how she would honor one of her own.

Kneeling, she places the conch shell by a vase with flowers in it, settles her hands on her thighs, and begins to sing.

It's a wordless melody that feels like a mourning poem, matching the tone of the rhyming lines inscribed on the wall. Katrina's voice is steady and calm. It lacks the power it would have at home, but it might still be enough to make someone's heart ache, or comfort them because Garner's spirit had passed on.

It's not a very long song. Once it's over, she stays for a few minutes, remembering, sadness rising again like a slow tide.

• wildcard

As usual, Katrina is glad to do some heavy lifting if anyone needs it. She figures she owes it to everyone who's been working on it, since she came to make use of the memorial room.

"Orange is happy?" He's not exactly disbelieving it, but he is questioning it. "I thought... I dunno, yellow was suppose to be a happy colour." Manji stands ready to paint. He had been serious about his offer to help in exchange for clothing and painting seemed like something he could help with while having just one arm.

Manji had heard there was a room dedicated to the lost and he wanted to see it. Not really wanting to see Garner's name there, but feeling like he needs to see it. Coming to a stop when he hears the humming just inside the door. Not wishing to interrupt, he plans to stand quietly and listen until she is done.

She doesn't startle when she stands and sees Manji at the door. In fact, she thinks she understands.

"You came to honor our friend."

It still hurts to know that he won't be there at the training hall, reliable and strong.

Hickey's been hanging out on the edges of the ceremony. He feels that he should be here, considering that he helped a bit with the building. But this...this sort of grieving, it's not him. If someone dies you push it down, you give them a little nod, you continue. There's no time for dwelling in your feelings. Not here, not ever.

"Nice song, I guess," he shrugs, once Katrina's done singing. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, intending to light one and start smoking right in the middle of the memorial room.

Jaeger has been drifting at the edges of things since the end of October, since the fight with Ava.

He's nursing wounds, some physical and some not. Though the bruises on his face have started to fade into ugly yellow-gray mottling, and he doesn't hold himself with quite the same painful care that he did at the start of the month. His arm is no longer in a sling, there are no more bandages. There is a deeper solemnity to him, though, a weariness in his blue-gray eyes and in the way he stands. Quieter than usual, more reclusive than he's been before.

But he's starting to come back to life, in small ways. Still hurt and still mourning, but he's present again in a way that he wasn't the first couple of weeks of the month. A little bit of painting, a little bit of amateur carpentry, or even just tasks as simple as bringing food and drinks to those doing the heavier work. Gestures, really, but things that take his mind off pain and loss and focus it on what can be done. What can be made better.

Right now, though, he's a still, silent, and huge presence lingering at the doorway of the shrine. Debating whether he wants to disturb Mercy's vigil, but eventually, finally, he finds some words in a voice just a little rougher and raspier than it was before.

"I think he would be very pleased with the work you've done here."

She's been among humans long enough that she can assume he doesn't mean any offense, and that he isn't putting down her customs. And as she stands and sees he is going to smoke, she doesn't feel the urge to snap at him. Humans have their own myriad ways of dealing with death. This is simply one of them, one Katrina hasn't seen before.

"It is a song for those who die. We sing because they go to spirit world. We feel sad, but we know they continue as spirit."

She wishes Eliza were here, or Helen, or even Beth. They know more details about the subject.

"You come here to light a candle?"

"Well, they're just a hair off from one another, ain't they?" She's not sure how much she trusts this man after their one disastrous argument, but Mercy is nothing if not willing to make amends. And he's helping out with her project. That's worth making an effort at being friendly for. It's also just easier than staying mad forever. Grudges aren't her strong suit.

"You wanna start on that wall? I'll take this one." She's already laid out tarps and put up the painters tape to protect things. "Lots of flowers is orange and... oranges and carrots! Good stuff that comes from the ground you can use to juggle or build snowmen."

Mercy wipes quickly at her eyes before looking around toward Jaeger. She offers him a sad smile. "It was all of us working together, Mr. Jaeger. You come to pay your respects, too? Lotta names on this wall. More'n Garner's. At least... at least we know what happened to him?"

That's something, small as it is. He's no mystery. She knows where Garner Cinderbooke is.

For a moment, he feels a little uncertain, but after a second he nods. He's not really adept at public displays of any emotion, never mind something as raw as grief. He's not sure he's ready to be that vulnerable, but on the other hand, Mercy has seen him pretty damn naked, emotionally. In his sleep-addled stupor, chasing phantoms through the halls of ADI, and she had proven herself...good. Gentle. If he was going to open up to anyone, it would be her.

"I wanted to see how things were going, and...yes. My respects, too." He casts around the room with steely eyes, softened by the past month's wear and fatigue.

He should light a candle, at the very least. He can do that. That means something, no matter how small. A little light to guide his friend. It's a comforting thought for a man who's not sure what he believes in.

"Too many names. I try to believe the best, but it's hard, not knowing for sure." He breathes out slowly, ignoring the lingering twinge in his ribs, the ache along his back and the arm he injured in the fall. "I do think that Garner went the way he would have chosen. Doing something important, protecting people."

Including Jaeger himself.

"As far as deaths go, I think that's something to be respected. Something that matters, and I'm glad he had that."

It's less of smoking to deal with grief and more of smoking so that he'll have something to do with his hands. But Hickey'll keep that to himself for the moment. At her question, he gives a little shrug.

"S'pose so. There aren't many people here on that list that I know." There is one, though. And his eyes keep getting drawn to that name. Hunter.

"Still. It's probably the proper thing to do."

"Even if you knew few, it is good to pay respect."

She's almost got that phrase down. It's close enough.

"How do you... mourn? Humans have many ways to show honor dead friends and family. I know only very few."

"Usually someone says a few words about the dead person," he shrugs. "If they're religious, then someone'll say something religious—reading a passage of scripture or something like that. Honestly, it's more for the people who are alive than the people who are dead."

"Yes. Our songs are for us to say how we cry for them." So while it's comforting to think the dead can hear the songs, it isn't their sole purpose.

She glances at the wall, then back at him. "You did not come here for Garner."

It's a neutral statement, no judgment or accusation to it.

"I suppose that's true." He wasn't about to argue about colour theory when he knows he's no expert on it. Plus, she did have a good point.

With a nod of his head he heads to the wall she indicated. Picking up a brush and dipping it into the paint. "Juggle?" He chuckles as he begins to paint the wall. "That's what you go to first when you think of oranges? Not juice? So, can you juggle?"

Hickey shakes his head. "I only met Garner once or twice. I came here cause I was interested in seeing what the Flophouse looked like all patched up."

There's a pause before he continues with, "Once I saw that list, wanted to see if anybody I knew was on it. I'd be pissed if I missed a few people."

"I suppose I did." He sees no reason to deny it. He reaches out and touches Garner's name. "I should have been there." Maybe there was something he could have done if only he had been there.

"I also think this."

But, of course, of all the people whose names are on the wall, it's Garner she was closest to.

"This wall remind me that our fight is for many, not only my people."

"Yeah..." She worries her lip as she watches him light his own candle and settle. Should she admit this to someone? Maybe. Maybe it wouldn't be welcome, though. "Mr. Jaeger, could I-could I tell you something about Garner? About what happened to him."

She's complicit in a way, isn't she? She'd let him go. She'd let him die without knowing how to fix the problem.

"Why not both?" Mercy takes her own side of the room. "When I was back home, the Abbey guards'd put on a show every year during the summer season changing festival. They'd juggle fruits and slice 'em up, pile 'em into a big old fruit salad they'd hand out to the little ones who were watching them."

And her heart aches at the thought of that. No more season changing festivals at home for her. Even if she does go back, she's not sure what the Spring Tide and their traditions are. That had been the way of it in Evergreen. Would their temple have something similar?

Hickey rolls his eyes a little as he points out, "The many aren't going to give a shit about one person. Focus on your own, otherwise nobody else is going to."

"I also should have been there." Their friend, her tribemate, who understood how confusing human society can be. "But we were not. I believe he fight with his whole self, mind and body. He was not weak. This means we must become stronger to fight this enemy."

Jaeger looks at Mercy and while there's a twinge of uncertainty in his chest, a low sinking worry in his gut, that's been there for a week now. Since that last battle, since Ava and...everything.

He's determined not to blame himself. Garner made his choices, and Jaeger respected that. Men like them didn't generally get good endings, but Garner had chosen, and it was as good an exit as they could hope for, really. Death with purpose, with a clear mind and heart.

He's not sure what Mercy has to say, but...if it's important, the least he can do is listen. Even with that little twinge of apprehension, that fear that it will tip quiet mourning and regret into something crushing and unbearable.

"What is it?" The words are soft, Jaeger's usual sepultural rasp softened by concern and weariness.

"A summer festival, huh?" He can't help himself. His mind picturing how much Rin would have loved a festival where someone juggled and cut up fruit for her to eat. "They ever put a bit of sugar on the fruit for the kids?" That is something she absolutely would have loved.

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Log - Restoring Bonnie's Flophouse: Part 2 - Open

Mercy Graves | OC | OTA

Katrina | Siren | ota

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