revivalproject

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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!)

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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."

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."

"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?"

They plop down in the chair, and despite being the size and shape of an adult human male, they manage to fold up and look quite small, pulling their dirty, bare heels up onto the edge of the seat and hugging their knees to their chest.

"Collecting many things from... things? Places?" That's probably better than from people, right?

Garak turns his attention back to the food for now, humming a quiet tune. With the electricity running again, he's managed to get a stove working, and he's figured out how to work the heating plates so he can cook on them.

The supplies are plenty, but not very varied. He's had to squeeze something akin to a juice that he uses as an oil where to cook the vegetables, and he's added some small herbs to season the dish. It's far from complex, but its smell is acceptable, and his recently acquired agriculture skills have allowed him to know what is and isn't edible too.

"Have you? And have you found anything useful?" It makes more sense that Phalanx is only hoarding things because they feel like it, but he may as well ask.

It's a rather subjective question (to them, at least) and that makes answering more difficult. A clamor of answers start up inside, ending up crowded and aimless by the time they actually make it out of Phalanx's mouth as words.

"Some of it clicks. Picks... picking. Sticking. Sticks are useful and little rocks and some are shiny or good or..." They pause to think, rolling their gaze up to stare at nothing while they try to remember. "Poking things and rolling things... And bugs."

Garak seems to realize the mistake of his question almost as soon as he asks it. He looks over to see Phalanx clearly struggling with the answer, not because they lack one but because they have one too many pushing to come out.

He smiles a little, more to himself than anything, stirring the vegetables and lowering the heat. "Some things are just nice to have. They don't need to be useful."

While giving the food a few minutes to finish cooking, he takes a seat next to Phalanx. "Tell me, then. What is your favorite thing you've found here?"

They might have a hollow, aimless sort of air about them in general, but being asked that question and having their friend sit down beside them clearly makes them happy. They tug down some of the wrappings from around their face and neck so they have more room to emote. They look excited; their soft voice has a definite tone of eagerness to it as they begin to rummage through the mysterious layers of cloth covering their chest and arms.

"Favorite is a click-thing. A wire. A bird."

And out onto the table are placed several objects, one after another, each set down with much importance. Because of course Phalanx's single favorite find would be an entire collection of them. There is what looks like a tiny switch-box that once belonged to some piece of machinery, something shaped roughly like a spool that now has some very handy wire wrapped around it, and a round feather that shifts color depending on what angle you look at it from.

A few pieces of freshly-chopped vegetable and a shiny, dead beetle fall onto the table as well, but Phalanx doesn't seem to notice those. The spirits are too busy frowning at a smooth, drab-looking pebble that they pause over before setting it on the table as well.

"...And this one used to be wet."

It doesn't surprise Garak in the least when Phalanx produces a seemingly endless supply of trinkets from underneath their layers. Some of them seem useful, and some more interesting than others. Garak picks up the round feather and studies it briefly, then glances at the pebble that Phalanx has in their hand.

Then the words get a hum from him, and he reaches out to take it.

"Which made it shine, of course."

He dips the pebble into a bowl of water nearby, then sets it back down in front of Phalanx, the little pebble now shining brightly as the light reflects on the wet surface.

A soon as the pebble regains its shine, it's easy to see why Phalanx had chosen it. Bands of color--white and several shades of rosy red--sparkle to life. Little bits of quartz twinkle in the less-opaque lighter colors; it must have been even more beautiful out in the sunlight where it had been found.

Phalanx gasps! They reach out for it with eager hands and a grin, like they're being reunited with some precious artifact that they'd lost long ago.

"That's it! I found it in the street, when they all walked there, and it looked like just a rock until the water. The lake."

It is a rather pretty stone, once it's wet. Garak admires it momentarily, but then it's Phalanx's reaction that gets his attention the most.

He places the wet stone on Phalanx's palm, smiling fondly at the absolutely ecstatic look on their face.

"I would suggest keeping it in a glass or bowl of water. That way it will look just as pretty and shiny as it does now."

They hold the pebble reverently in their hand, dirty palm stretched as flat as they can manage. With the tip of one finger, they gingerly roll the little thing around in a circle, slowly drawing a light ring of dampness on the wraps covering their hands.

"A little one wanted to do that. It was in the rain so it looked so nice and they wanted to keep it, but they couldn't. So it stayed there. Until the lake."

Garak smiles as he leans back, rather pleased with himself. Phalanx seems so easy to please at times, regardless of how confusing (and confused?) they are, he likes to be able to make them smile.

"Perhaps the little one can keep it now," he says, rising to his feet. "I'll finish the vegetables. Would you like to share the meal with me?"

"The little one is dead in the storm outside," they gently correct, but are then immediately distracted by the next question.

The little pebble disappears up their sleeve just like the chopped vegetables had, and they forget (for now) about all the other things they'd placed and dropped on the table.

"We like all share. All the time. Have to."

Garak can't always decipher the meaning in Phalanx's words. But then he doesn't always waste much of his time trying. He spares them a look now, but then heads back to the stove, resuming the meal he was preparing.

"Sharing is quite important in most cultures. We Cardassians value good company and thorough debate during our meals, for instance."

They hardly expect words to happen out loud from their own mouth, let alone be understood by other people, so they don't seem to notice or care that the comment goes unanswered. The fact that someone is listening at all probably counts for a lot.

Besides, most of the pieces of their attention are focused on this new topic instead. Casually folding up into an even smaller shape, hugging their arms into the layers of their robe, they let the rest of their body droop onto the tabletop. Just a haunted pile of laundry on a chair, having a conversation.

"...You fight at dinner? Families do that. News and holidays... and brothers."

"Oh, no. Not fights, just intelligent discussion. There's no need to be quite so dramatic about it," he smiles over his shoulder, looking away again as he adds.

"Family too is very important for Cardassians. Our duty to the State is only surpassed by our love and dedication to our families. Or so it should be for all Cardassians, of course," he hums. Garak, as it stands, doesn't have much of a family.

With their head now resting on the table, they turn so they can watch Garak as he cooks.

"We're families. And pieces of families. New families and dead families..." They trail off and think to themselves for a moment, their hair growing a little longer and starting to darken in the meantime. Their skin begins to gain a little color to match.

"...Are you? In or of?"

"Yes. Many, many families," he hums, stirring the vegetables. The ones he picked for today all cook rather quickly, so it's not long before he's turning off the heat and serving the vegetables onto two different bowls.

"Ah, I... have no family, not anymore," he smiles as he turns around and brings both bowls to the table. He settles the bright yellow bowl in front of Phalanx, then hands out a fork for them. "Do you know how to use this?"

Phalanx is humming over the various responses and questions forming in their head at Garak's answer, but the sudden appearance of a fork distracts them. They don't pick their head up off the table to look at the utensil properly until after they've already taken it and looked at it for a second or so. It takes time for everything to click.

"Yes, it..." They make a little stabbing motion with it in the air, and then immediately seem surprised by the fact. "Oh! Yes."

Fork now properly in hand, they straighten up a little more respectably (but only a little) in their seat and turn their attention to the meal waiting before them. Dirty fingers grab onto the lip of bowl so they can tip it one way, peering at the steaming vegetables, then tipping it precariously the other way so they can get a good look at that bright yellow color.

Garak hums a little chuckle, so very amused to see Phalanx figure out the fork, and sit up slightly straighter. It's effort that he genuinely appreciates, and he uses his own fork to take some vegetables into his mouth, humming happily at the taste.

"That's quite good," he decides, pleased with himself. He looks over to see Phalanx tipping the bowl back. He reaches it immediately and rights it again. "Don't do that, my dear, or the food will tip over the edge and you will make a mess. If you want, you can keep the bowl once you eat everything in it."

"Oh," they comment with interest. You learn something new every day.

They leave the bowl settled properly on the table then, and focus all of their wandering attention to the food inside of it. Using the fork as they should, they curiously stab at the bits of vegetables until they skewer a particularly appealing piece. This gets experimentally licked, and then bitten, but not actually eaten just yet. They're still exploring.

"Did you have a garden?"

Garak lets Phalanx explore the food at their leisure. There is no rush in any case, so they can take as much time as they need, although the food might get a little cold if they take too long with it.

"Before here? Oh no, that wasn't of interest to me. I had a shop that kept me quite busy, I hardly had time for more than that," he smiles. "But learning how to plant and grow vegetables has become very useful here."

"No garden. No family. But you can grow them here?"

Phalanx hardly seems to be paying attention to the conversation with how involved they are with exploring their food... but, given how they continue to string words together in ways that mostly make sense, some fragments of their mind must be invested in it.

"A garden? Yes, of course. Have you been to the greenhouse yet? I could show you the various plants I've been tending to."

Not all of them are vegetables, but either way he has a feeling that Phalanx will appreciate the more colorful flowers and vegetables most of all.

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pileofspirits - 2019-10-27 18:01 (UTC) - Expand

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