revivalproject | Watch the sun rise

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Watch the sun rise

WHO: Edward Teach, OTA
WHERE: Temba, The Beach
WHAT: nature walks, the beach, tattoos
WHEN: Start - mid event
WARNINGS: TBD (mild blood, tattoos)

The Trek

Nature had gotten even more objectionable since they'd left this place, and he didn't even have Stede's endless enthusiasm to soften his mood.

Edward squinted up at the sky and then back to his device to reorient. He'd gotten some vague directions towards the supposed beach, but the trek was quickly trying his all ready limited patience. Plants were annoying enough when they weren't actively trying to kill you. And of course, any of the proper weaponry he'd managed to arm himself with in that other place hadn't come back with him, only a small whittling blade, which wasn't helping nearly as quickly as he wanted as he tried to cut his way through a wall of vines that blocked the path.

He gave a growl of frustration and tugged at them violently with his bare hands instead, cursing and swearing to burn the whole damn forest down in vengeance. Fucking nature.

The Beach

Despite having had the good fortune to spend much of his time working the docks and sailing the waters while they were away, the trying nature of the journey there had Ed's chest tight when he finally saw the shore. In that moment at least it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in a very long time.

He hardly remembered falling asleep on those strange sands, but the following days he began to find a routine for himself. He worked on a shelter, caught some of those annoying lobster creatures that cooked up well enough, and then devoted most of his day to his ambitions of building a boat.

A ship was obviously out of the question and even a boat was not something he had much practical knowledge in terms of building, more maintaining, but it gave him something to work towards.

It did make him feel his age though, particularly by the end of the day, leg outstretched to try and rest his knee, attempting to learn the strange stars and puffing at the pipe he'd made for himself.

Tattoos

Perhaps you'd happened upon him in one of his idle moments, bored and adding to the vast array of ink littering his body.

It was a long process, jabbing his skin over and over, occasionally wiping away blood and ink to see how it was progressing. The pain didn't seem to phase him much at all. With how many he had all ready that wasn't really a shock.

He might even be convinced to give you one, if you made the right offer. How many people could say they'd been tattooed by Blackbeard? He even had a selection of inks to work with, some he'd brought back with him, a few others he'd made himself from some of the flora... Which given how the plants have been behaving...well it may have some unintended side effects.

(ooc: If you want homemade ink you can pick effects or leave to me)

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Listen, this wasn't what Gladio had meant to walk up on. He was looking for Noctis, who seemed to have gone missing. Which had of course inspired a panic in Gladio. If Noctis isn't here then he's... No, it didn't bear thinking about. So Gladio had gone seeking instead. Which had brought him here, to the shore. Brought him here to see a strange man.

No, he realized as he got closer. Not a strange man. That guy that tried to be a captain of Gladio's ship. He was enjoying being captain, thanks a lot. But there was the guy, sitting there, tattooing himself. Gladio had seen the ink before, and he had mad respect for it. But he hadn't anticipated it had all been hand done. Maybe this was an indication that he had really given himself all his marks, at least in the places he could see. So Gladio came closer, to watch. And, at last, he sighed and held his hand out to the man.

"Give me the cloth," he said, sitting down next to Ed. "I'll handle the clean up, you focus on the pattern. What are you making?"

Ah, the Captain.

Ed fixed Gladio with a hard look for a moment before passing the cloth over, and turning his arm for the other man to see.

"Supposed to be a lighthouse," he replied, the deeper meaning of that particular choice known only to him.

The style matched some of the other pictures etched into his skin, but not all, confirming that most had been done by other hands over the years, and he'd added in his own when and where he pleased.

Dude, don't be jealous. You don't wanna be captain of a space ship anyway. It's not any fun. Mostly it just means being a chauffeur.

He hums thoughtfully as he takes the cloth and carefully dabs it clean of the blood.

"You sterilized the needle before you started, right?" he asked as he looked over the lighthouse. Good likeness of it. "Still, good choice of a marking. A warning of danger, and a guiding light too. But more than that, there's a view they give you. There's this one at Cape Caem, so fucking tall. You can see so much from there, of the land and sea. It felt... peaceful."

It's the principle of the thing, man. But he had at least obsrved that the crew of these ships didn't operate much at all like what he was used to. The roll of Captain mostly only meant a better bunk.

"Mm?" he arched a brow in question, not sure what he meant. He was pleased enough to earn his approval at least, nodding at the interpretation and giving a faint smile, briefly lost in memory.

"They're all right," he agreed with a guarded frown once he shook himself back to reality, shrugging a shoulder, definitely not vulnerable. "You seen any around here?" he asked, glancing down the shore with a curious hum.

It did mean a bigger bunk, and Gladio clearly needed it more seeing as he was bigger. And had a boyfriend. On the ship. Who shared his bunk thanks.

"You sterilized the needle," Gladio repeated. "You know, heating it up to cherry red hot and let it cool down. Preferably splashed some alcohol on it? Make sure there's no germs or disease to make you sick."

Still, he watches the guy, ready to support the tattoo work. Clearly, from his bare arms and shoulders, he's a man that approves of the tattooing.

"Never seen any, no. Sorry."

Don't remind him. Ed hardly needs more reason to be resentful.

"...How would that make someone sick?" Ed gave a dismissive look, like Gladio was talking crazy. Germ theory was very far from being accepted in his time period.

"Strange," he muttered, getting back to his work with a frown, dipping the needle, "No docks. No boats. No wrecks. Far as I can see nothing to suggest these people ever took to the water. Never met a people that didn't make some kind of use of it before." Water was life, after all."

Hey, the dude wasn't even his boyfriend back home. So don't resent him getting a taste of the love he'll never know back there.

"Because that's how diseases work?"

But Gladio nods along with Ed. Yeah, it is a bit weird.

"I mean, if these people had space ships, I guess that stuff isn't needed? They could just fly over it."

His nose wrinkled doubtfully. Sure. The diseases just made their way in on the needle. That made sense.

"I guess," he agreed, not looking entirely convinced. But it was hard to guess what a people so far beyond them technology wise would do. Still, it didn't feel right. "Anyone ever cross?" he asked, nodding towards the water.

It did, but he can't teach someone with no science how to understand it.

"Cross what?" Gladio asked, watching the man work. His expression was... strangely zen actually. The whole process of tattooing was a soothing one for Gladio, even when it wasn't him being marked.

"The water," he said, that crinkle only deepening, as though there was no other conclusion that some one could have come to.

Ed's focus didn't shift with his emotions at least, jabbing steadily and pausing to examine his work.

"You don't want one, do you?" he posed, feigning disinterest but clearly hopeful that he might have somewhere else to shift his focus and help distract him.

"Not that I know of. I've only been here since just before the Agrii 'New Tick', but I've never heard anyone talking about it. I know we can't take the ships that way."

It was frustrating. He had this cool thing he could fly, and he couldn't take it on an adventure. It was frustrating.

Still, when Ed asks Gladio smirks and then hauls off coat and shirt until he could reveal the full, massive spread of the eagle tattoo that covered his back, a good big of his shoulders, arms, and neck, and even dipped down below his pants.

"I think I'm pretty covered."

New Tick didn't mean much of anything to Ed as a time marker, but it was enough of an answer for him to nod with a frown. Still...that meant the waters were unknown. If he could manage to put together a boat he could at least explore the coastlines, even if he couldn't venture out into the deeps. It'd been a while since he'd had the chance to explore a untouched bit of world...

He lifted his chin, watching with interest as Gladio stripped down, looking him over with an approving hum, curious eyes studying the unfamiliar styles.

"Not bad," he acknowledged with a smirk of his own.

"I agree," Gladio smiled. He was proud of the eagle. "It's a family tradition. Marks this duty we have sworn ourselves to for over a hundred generations. Though most don't get it nearly as big as I did."

He'd been proud, by the time he had gotten it done. Proud of his charge. Proud of his life.

"Took a hell of a long time, even with more advanced tat methods than what you've managed here."

Ed lifted his chin and tugged down shirt enough to show of his own eagle, spread over his collar bones, lips twitching at that bit of shared history.

"And what duty is that?" he wondered curiously.

Nice eagle. Gladio leans in to look and then nods in approval.

"It's... complicated," he decides, because he doesn't want to give it all away. "And so long as I'm here, it doesn't matter."

Within about thirty minutes of the sun setting fully and darkness taking over the beach, the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs starts to rapidly approach from the bordering treeline. Then running footsteps, then harried breathing, then--

Dustin explodes out from the forest near Ed's shelter, skidding to a halt with a spray of purple sand and a choked gasp of relief. Even though he knows that he lost the Thorntooths chasing him once the signs of overbearing plant life faded away - roughly ten minutes ago? - that hadn't stopped him from feeling like he was still being chased, or could be chased, and honestly this is way more excitement than Dustin had allotted himself for one evening. All he wanted to do was measure the perimeter of the storm's effects. In retrospect, maybe that was a task better suited for the daytime.

Too late now. Doubling over to lean on his knees, Dustin takes half a minute just to catch his breath, panting raggedly into his chest. He's currently too preoccupied with recovery to even register that someone's built a whole camp for themselves here, and that particular someone is smoking a pipe maybe twenty feet away from him.

Ed's head turns sharply as the figure explodes from the trees. It's clear quick enough that the boy isn't a threat, and Edward briefly eyes the trees to be sure whatever's spooked him isn't going to come charging out after him.

Satisfied, he blows a stream of smoke and arches a brow as the boy, shifting to lean back on a palm.

"Quite the entrance," he notes, eyes wrinkling with an amused smile.

Dustin does a full double-take at Ed and his shack at some point during his recovery - enough to pick up on the fact that the man staring back at him is just as surprised as he is, doesn't immediately follow up on that surprise with aggression or defensiveness, and has enough infrastructure on this beach to assume that he's been living here for at least a couple of days. Basically, this is Ed's house and he's not too fussed about Dustin ending up in it. That's a positive start.

Which he promptly endangers by being irritated at Ed's amusement at his expense. Dustin waves him off, taking a few more seconds to suck in enough air to speak.

"Shut up." Huff, puff. "Not much choice. Fuckin'..." Gasp, wheeze. "...plant wolf fuckers."

Shiro had been wandering around the place, feeling a bit anxious and like he needed to patrol to make sure that everything was alright. He might have tried to blame it being a paladin but who was he kidding, he would have done that before.

But in doing so, he encountered the other man giving himself a tattoo. He couldn't help but pause and watch. It would have been more uncomfortable to watch if he had been in pain, but the other didn't seem to care much about and just kept going so it was more just... watching.

"What sort of tattoo are you giving yourself?" He finally asked once the other was not actively stabbing himself. Wouldn't want him to slip and actually hurt himself.

Wiping down his arm, Edward hummed in answer and turned his arm to show the small lighthouse he'd managed to find room for amidst the rest of his ink.

"Nothing special," he lied, shrugging a shoulder, "Just passing the time, you know?" He gave an absent gesture, welcoming Shiro to sit if he liked. "You have any?"

"Makes sense." If he enjoyed giving himself a tattoo, that was his prerogative. Not something that Shiro would consider to pass the time, but that was him.

"Nice lighthouse." He could tell that was the in progress one at least. Shiro came over and took a seat. "Me? No. I never really had the chance to get one. Was a little busy to consider that."

Plus with his medical condition, he had been cautious about that.

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Watch the sun rise

Tattoos

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The Beach

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Tattoos

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