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[pileofspirits]

WHO: Phalanx and You
WHERE: Literally anywhere
WHAT: Exploring and sewing and trying to remember
WHEN: Early October
WARNINGS: I'll add things if they come up!

→ things

Sitting somewhere around the fountain or the Hotel (they keep drifting to new places as the whim strikes them) is Phalanx and the little project they're working on. After several weeks spent in this world, their cloak of rags now has a few new pieces stitched and tied into the mess, with cloth now wrapping all the way down to their knuckles and bundled up around the lower half of their face like a cozy scarf. It's a small wonder how they're even able to work on the delicate craft settled in their lap, with the small window between the scarf layers and the hood of their cloak to peer out of, and how only the tips of their fingers are free from wrappings to work the needle and thread.

A first glance at their project shows what seems like nonsensical letters and design elements being embroidered onto a random scrap of cloth... but if you really get a good look at it, it's clear that the fabric probably came from one of the new ships (goodbye, someone's bed-sheet), the embroidery is actually meticulous cross-stitching, and the design itself is the word "THINGS" over and over, garbled up where their attention wandered or somehow got scrambled along the way, leading to the lines of letters trailing off in random directions, running into other letters, turning into pretty squares halfway through, etc.

Phalanx doesn't seem to notice the world around them as they're completely absorbed in playing with their beloved gift from the Agrii.


→ ships

Having already spent so much time exploring as much of the nooks and crannies of this city as they could manage, the appearance of the grounded ships was a gift all in itself. With childlike excitement, the spirits visit each new place to touch and learn and listen to.

They will be exploring every ship in random rounds at any time of day or night. Sneaking on-board and thoughtfully wandering from one end to the other, lying quietly in every bed, standing and looking at nothing in the galley, they eagerly experience the spaces like a ghost that doesn't realize it can be seen.


→ borrowing

When they're not stitching or sneaking through ships, Phalanx's wandering continues through the city as usual. They go wherever a human body can, squeezing into tight spaces and delving into dark places just as often as they seek out the fun, lively places where other people like to gather.

And while they're traveling, they tend to... just pick things up as they go. Usually they take little things that sparkle or click or make sounds when you crumple them up in your hand, but almost anything is fair game. They just wander by and things end up in their hands or tucked into the labyrinthine layers of their cloak and they don't seem to notice a problem with it. Their grubby little hands just sneak out and take things and it's just a thing that happens. It's not their fault that's how the world works.


(feel free to make up starters if you'd like! also feel free to friend or message me at redpyre for anything. finally, please check out Phalanx's opt-in for ghost powers at the bottom of their permissions post in case those might come into play!)

Comments

borrowing

[tailorspy]

See, that's not a good item to take without warning. Because Garak was literally just using that, and when he turns to retrieve the bowl with pieces of chopped vegetables, he finds it's suddenly gone from the table.

Eyebrows lifting, he looks quickly around the room, then calls out when he recognizes what looks like a pile of blankets. "Ah! Phalanx, dear," he smiles, tilting his head and hoping to get their attention. "The bowl, please. I would like it back."

[pileofspirits]

He does get their attention! The blanket pile looks up from where they've already plopped down on the floor like a happy pile of laundry and they seem to smile back. They still have fabric bunched up to cover the lower half of their face, but their eyes crinkle happily.

And they would love to comply. At Garak's request, they helpfully begin dumping the vegetables into their lap so they can give the bowl back...

[tailorspy]

It's not often that Garak is surprised. Phalanx seems to manage it with an effortlessly innocent gesture, one that draws a little gasp from him, and he sets down the makeshift spoon he was using to make his way over to where Phalanx is.

"That is not what I meant," he says, shaking his head. "Now you've dirtied yourself. Honestly, what is it that you'd want raw vegetables for, anyway? I haven't even cooked them yet."

[pileofspirits]

The confusion is clear when Garak's reaction is not what Phalanx had been expecting. Their eyes go from pleased crescents to wide and wondering, their brow furrowed. They look at the bowl in their hands, like there might be a problem with it, and then down at the pile of chopped vegetables in their lap.

Dirty fingers pick at a few pieces and they mumble into their scarf. "Color and smells nice."

[tailorspy]

"Believe me, they smell even nicer once they're cooked," he assures Phalanx, crouching next to them and gathering the pieces back into the bowl. A quick wash and they'll be just fine for use, there's no point in wasting food.

"Come with me. I'll prepare you a meal. Assuming you can eat, that is."

[pileofspirits]

"Assuming I can eat," they repeat, but it's in an insistent tone! They can (probably) eat just fine.

And while Garak scoops up the bits of vegetables, Phalanx at first seems like they're helping... but it quickly turns to almost petulantly disappearing a few pieces up into their sleeves for safekeeping.

[tailorspy]

Garak huffs in clear frustration when Phalanx starts shoving little pieces of vegetables up their sleeves. "Please, my dear, you don't need to do that. You can have vegetables whenever you want, and-- oh, look at you now. Quite a dreadful mess. You'll have to wash your clothes."

He shakes his head and stands once all the pieces are off of Phalanx's lap. Even if some are still tucked away in his sleeves. "Come, please," he offers Phalanx a hand. "I will give you a meal."

[pileofspirits]

Despite the huff that they probably mimicked off of Garak, they obediently take his hand to pull themselves up with, and then continue to hang onto it. While they follow to wherever he's leading, they look down at the front of their dress of rags and frown.

"Wash it? But messes have been much more dreadful."

[tailorspy]

"Perhaps you'll think it more dreadful when the scent turns rotten and starts attracting wildlife," he says flatly, holding Phalanx's hand in his as he walks them back to the table where he was working. He guides Phalanx to sit down on an old chair Garak managed to find, then he lets go of their hand to go back to cooking the vegetables.

"So? Have you been collecting many things from other people?"

ships

[stillgotmyleftarm]

Bucky is definitely interested in checking out the ships - after all, he definitely recognizes them. Mostly - some things are slightly different, which admittedly makes him wonder whether these are actually the same ships (doubtful) or just really good replicas (more likely). Which means, naturally, that he's poking around, too - although not quite to the extent of lying in all the beds.

Actually, he might be headed for the galley, because he wants to see if there's a coffeemaker like he remembers.

(He's going to be disappointed.)

He does, however spot someone already standing in there. Just... looking at... "Uh. Something interesting going on in here?" he asks, from the doorway.

[pileofspirits]

The pale, raggedy figure turns to fix the other man with their weird, dark eyes, just watching him for a moment before answering.

Very matter-of-fact about it, "I can't tell. I can't remember." They gesture around at the kitchen, pointing at nothing interesting. "Do you?"

[stillgotmyleftarm]

Bucky frowns, because... that's a weird question. But then again, the guy seems a little weird, too.

He does his best not to judge, though. Not without more information. "Don't think so," he settles on, coming a little more into the room. "I was looking for coffee. Both of my old ships had grounds. I was kinda hoping these would, too."

He figures he'll go for broke: "Wanna help me look?"

[pileofspirits]

The figure nods in understanding at that response, as if that was the answer they had been expecting anyway. And they probably agree to the question that he then asks, as they wordlessly open a nearby cabinet to peer into it.

While their head is ducked into the cabinet, "Old ships? Is this one old?"

[stillgotmyleftarm]

Bucky does the same - though he waits until he pulls his head back to answer. "Uh - old as in I was on 'em before. I guess I don't know how old the actual ships are. But I came here from one of them - the Bishop. It was part of this... intergalactic reality show called The Drift Fleet. We lived on ships just like these."

No coffee grounds - he moves on to the next cabinet. "What's your name?"

[pileofspirits]

They murmur quietly in acknowledgement as he explains. Their face is still in that first cabinet when they answer, muffling their voice, but it sounds like it's probably meant more for themselves anyway.

"Maybe that's why. Maybe ghost ships? Maybe dead and back to life."

They finally shuffle to the side and look in a new space after that, opening a drawer to picking through the things inside it.

"Many but we don't remember. We only remember Phalanx."

[stillgotmyleftarm]

Bucky picks up the words, but he doesn't reply until he gets an answer that is clearly meant for him. (Even if said words are, he thinks, possibly a little disturbing, and maybe not to be ignored?)

"So... is it okay if I call you Phalanx, then?" he asks - mostly because he's distinctly aware of how particular names can be.

[pileofspirits]

"We like being called," they answer in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, as if they're fully expecting to be understood with this response.

Meanwhile, their tactics in searching shift (if they're still searching at all) and they begin to take everything out of the drawer, one utensil at a time, and line them up neatly on the counter.

Things!

[doubled_speed]

With the water running there isn't nearly as much reason for Tommy to be hauling water to the greenhouse, to be honest, but there are other things he needs to do with water, and one of them is soaking his feet in cold water after a long day of work. So there he is, speeding past Phalanx with a burst of wind following from behind him, and just like that, the spirits aren't alone. Instead there's a guy soaking bare feet in the water, twisting aside to look at what he's working on.

"Well, at least this time it isn't taking leaves. What's with things?"

It's a joke, see. Because it's asking what's up and it's asking about the word itself. Funny man.

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx laughs a little, even though they probably (almost definitely) don't get the joke. It probably has much more to do with the fact that he's just suddenly there, while they're still processing the fact that a breeze has come by to ruffle their raggedy cloak.

"Everythings!" they answer happily and uselessly.

[doubled_speed]

"Yeah, but why?"

Patience isn't his strong point. But persistence is. And so is kicking his feet in the water apparently.

[pileofspirits]

Wow that energy is contagious, isn't it? Almost just as impatiently, Phalanx comes right back with, "Because things are... great. And everything, and celebrating. And... splashing?"

Yeah, the splashing sounds in the bucket are distracting, and the spirits lean forward to look for Tommy's feet.

"Is that nice? Feels nice?"

[doubled_speed]

"Well, I can't soak them in hot water, so yeah, feels really nice. It helps with the soreness. The shoes I have here? Totally suck for me."

He misses his unstable molecules.

[pileofspirits]

"Too small?" That's a problem that people have with shoes, right? It's been uncountable years since they've had to think about something like that.

They lift the hem of their cloak to look down at their own feet anyway, just in case.

...Yep, still dirty and bare, just like they'd left them.

[doubled_speed]

"Nah, just not durable enough for someone like me."

They're pretty much wearing through already. Which is a serious problem. But what is he supposed to do about it? Can't just buy a replacement pair.

[pileofspirits]

"Oh..." A hand reaches up to press uncomfortably against their own eye, because trying to follow a line of logic this far is taking effort, and every little piece feels like it has something different to say.

"Feet are... durable but not more than shoes maybe. But they don't wear down. Wear out. Wear shoes..."

An apologetic look crosses their face. They know they're not making much sense here.