softember [OPEN]

Entry tags:

softember [OPEN]

WHO: Marty, others
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: september
WHAT: soft stuff
WARNINGS: NO WARN, ONLY SOFT!!!

o1. MF#10
[having a long span of days inside without chaos is good medicine. Martin doesn't really have awareness of recovery, but sleep is less troubled, and filling hours with small activities keeps dreadful thoughts at bay for the most part. it's not a perfect recovery, but it's better than it's been in a long time.

in the house, he's often working on knitting -- he has a couple things in progress, and alternating between them between days or breaks seems to be the way to go. he's already zoned out and gotten lost more than once, discovering he's overdone a bit and having to spend more time undoing work, but even that is engrossing.

another thing, too: television. he doesn't really find himself drawn to it very often -- most of the mannerisms and lingo from the folks on the screen is hard to follow, and just forget about the storylines. things too fantastical or weird to comprehend are right out the window.

late at night, though, there are things that pop up on the public access network that really grabs his attention: there's a show that drones on and on about the nuances of manufacturing -- how things get made, detailing the process, showing the repetitive motions of machinery or handiwork...Martin gets easily hypnotized by it, invested in the start and finish, barely wanting to blink. he may not always know what the end product is supposed to be, but the processes? they're kind of beautiful in ways.

(at least he's not addicted to the shopping network???)]

o2. A grocery store
O-oh...

[Martin stops, pulled from the list in his hands, and stares down at what he'd stepped on. it was squishy...

it's pink. and fuzzy? he bends down and pokes at it warily before finding it safe to pick up and straighten back up.

it's some kind of toy...an animal of some sort? with big, googly eyes. it jingles a little when it moves. he frowns, realizing he'd heard the sound earlier while mulling around the aisles.

...wait. wasn't this in some small child's hands earlier? he wasn't paying attention to others, but he vaguely remembers glimpsing a baby shaking it from a shopping cart.

he frowns, looking around with a worried frown. what does he do with this...?]

o3. A park by the canal
[even in September, it's still warm in the city. and with the fair weather, there's a fair number of people out and about during the day.

there's less kids in the park now that school's begun, but joggers and dog-walkers and active old folks are still about...and something pretty unusual and new to Martin.

he's taken a detour off the sidewalk to avoid pissing off some passing dogs, seated a fair distance on the lawn under a tree for shade, his eyes glued to the figure clear on the other side of the walking path. some college-age person perched on a bench, busking on a guitar with his case open for spare change.

music plays all the time in the city -- retail stores, restaurants, noisy cars with their windows down... but he's not actually seen it being made. he's never seen an instrument before, either; there's no such thing in the compound back home. seeing one just out here like this is surprising...and fascinating. Martin settles his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs, and takes to staring, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.]

o4. The library
[he's got a mountain of books from Archie (and digital texts from D33) to keep him busy for months, but there's still more use he can get out of this place. he doesn't need the quiet here (there's too many people here for it to be at all peaceful), but there are books full of different patterns for knitting projects. it's a a lot to bite off and chew all at once, but...he can't help but look ahead.

some of the complex ones are too fascinating to ignore, after all. he can't really follow the written instructions, but he spends a lot of time with his head bowed down, tracing along the illustrations with his fingers as he puzzles out the loops on his own, over and over until he can do it by memory.

deciphering patterns, memorizing similarities...these are the kinds of things he's good at, even though he'd hardly boast about it.]

o5. etc
[idk man hmu]

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[ She sighs a bit; here he goes undermining his own worth again. She knows he's just recalling another time, but of course Rex wouldn't have turned him away. Even then. ]

It's not like it makes you impossible to live with. It's just different. You might as well call it...really weird insomnia. [ And that's what she has, really, so it's not as if she's unfamiliar.

She knows it makes him worry, but if they're on this topic, she might as well get a little more information. ] You don't...worry about Rex abandoning you or anything still, do you? Willingly, I mean.

N...no... [he says it slowly, worried he misheard how she worded that. frowning, he looks back, just in case he did mishear.] I-I mean...I believe him. He, he doesn't lie. Just--

[he grimaces, recoiling a little at his own thoughts, looking down.]

He doesn't lie. So.

[ He doesn't always understand it as eagerly as she'd like, but she's used to this now- having to make something very clear to him. But this isn't something it's hard to say. It's very easy to say, actually: ]

Martin. He'd never do that to you- again, not willingly. You've got my word on that one.

[ She takes a long drink of tea, pausing. Honestly... ] And he'd probably tell you that, if you asked.

I, I know. [he scratches under his eye before folding his arms up again, his shoulders rolling as he fidgets. uncomfortable thoughts make the body uncomfortable.] I know, but. But that doesn't mean it. It won't happen. Something could-- [he forces his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line, a faint, nasally sound coming out of his nose. he shakes his head a little.]

[ Yeah. She knows. It's miserable enough for her to think about losing people, but Martin? A kid who's dependent on the rest of them, and who seems to not have had a comfortable life before this? Thinking of him abandoned is viscerally depressing. ]

If it does...you've got Andy you could stay with. And Archie. Me. [ It seems strange to think of taking care of Martin enough that he'd live with her, but it's occurring to her, as they speak, that it's not as if she'd say no. ] You wouldn't be alone. Hell, so many people like you around here that I don't think you'll ever be alone, if that's what you're worried about.

[Martin's gaze stays fixedly downcast, because any glimpse her way will put composure at risk. already, guilt and shame at bringing up such an abysmal subject is roiling around in his guts, to say nothing of the worry and sadness that comes with thinking about losing Rex or any of them.

it's the worst. logically, he shouldn't worry about being alone. he's just a...well, according to his life back home, he's just a weapon. it's what he was made for.

it just makes feeling anything frustrating, though: why make a weapon that feels so much? or need others? isn't that...inefficient? wouldn't everyone be better off if he wasn't so needy and pathetic?

thinking that way flies in the face of all the good will Cass and all the rest have offered him and he knows it, and so the guilt and shame rage on.

he swallows.]

Yes, that's...I know. Sorry. I don't mean to sound...ungrateful. I'm not. I promise.

You didn't. [ She says that firmly, but she's not hiding some tenderness in her tone. She didn't mean for him to think that. ]

I just- look, you've been through enough awful shit around here. If I'm gonna put it bluntly. [ Part of her still hesitates at being that crude with him, but she knows he's probably heard worse from someone at this point. ] I don't want you to keep feeling like you can't tell us this stuff. We literally have zero reason to be mad at you.

[ She puts her mug down, having finished the tea. ] And anybody who does can likely shove it, by the way.

[ She's thinking of Woden, although she supposes his motives towards Martin may not have been quite anger. But who knows with him. ]

[zero reason, huh. Martin's not sure. from where he stands, everyone's just...very generous with their patience. especially Rex. he should've at least been mad about the time Martin smacked him in the head with a door...]

I kind of figured...it'd be clear enough on its own. How things go bad around me. [his mouth tries to twist in some kind of smile, but it looks more nauseous than anything.] And I already...tried explaining it. A lot. But that didn't really do much.

So I think I should be...just happy to not get. Thrown away. [his mouth twitches.] Like I kind of figured should happen.

[ There's still a part of Cassandra that wonders what happened to Martin, growing up; he's given her an answer, but it's never felt right. The more time passes, the more she thinks she might never really know. And the more she tries to question how she approaches these things, the more she thinks she may not deserve to know.

She rubs her forehead. None of what he's saying surprises her any more, but it's still upsetting. ]

Martin, after the last month, people could say the same thing about me. Hell, things go bad around every single person in this place, at this point. It doesn't mean everybody should stop doing or deserving anything. Do you get that?

I mean... [not wholly. pieces of his mind won't be that generous! not even for Cassandra's sake.] I, I guess so.

[he runs a hand through his bangs, squeezing clumps of them through his fingers before combing them free.]

Sorry. I don't mean to always be so...bad. About everything. I think that's...just what I do.

Stop. Martin, you are not.

[ And she sounds agitated, but once she speaks, she realizes how harsh it could come off- she takes a sharp breath, trying to scale it back. She wants to be honest with him, but she doesn't want to say things that could hurt him. Not after seeing him as Peklabog. ]

Everyone's bad at things when they're your age. That doesn't make you broken, or something like that. It just makes you a kid.

And you must be good at something. [ Something like...god, what are Martin's hobbies. ] You knit, right? You must be good at that.

I-I...I guess. I don't know. [from the late, exhausting hour, Cass' entirely justifiable exasperation and his own hangups, Martin can't help but feel really stuck in a bog of bad. it makes his efforts at speaking more staggered as he tries to cough up responses faster than he can really formulate them.]

...I mean. Archie said something like that. About it. Making things people can use? Maybe.

It's why knitting exists, right? [ Blunt way to put it, but who knows what Martin's experiences with it were before. Do Darkovs make their own clothes? ] But plenty of people just do it for fun, considering...society.

[ She was going to tangent about factories, but what good does that do? Martin won't get it. And she's exhausted. ]

That's good for you. Having something you like. [ Unless- ] You do like it?

...

[it's not always been about liking, when it comes to things here. it's more...should he even be allowed doing things that aren't...Darkov-appropriate. stopping to even consider he likes a thing he's doing? that's...]

...Um. [...] Yes. I think so. It's...quiet. Simple. Small. [like him???]

[ That's...such a tepid reason for a kid to like something. Not that she doesn't believe him, but it emphasizes how quiet he is, how much he seems like he just wants something peaceful in his life. ]

You could keep doing stuff like that. Making things. [ But she's still wondering if there's anything he's holding back on. ] Nothing else caught your eye? You're not bored with just that and soccer?

I...I don't mind. [he feels a beat of unease under her scrutiny, like he's missing the right answer.] I mean, I don't really...look for anything else. Not, uh, unless someone says to look.

[his head tilts a little as he peers at her, blinking sleepily. is that what she wants him to do? look?]

[ It is, although at this point she knows better than to force him. But she knows it could be an important step for him to take. ]

I mean, if you like it you like it. But you know there's nothing wrong with finding new things, right? Like I said, we will help you, if you want.

[ Often, she thinks he's limiting himself. He's clearly determined to make others happy. Shouldn't he want to try to make himself happier, too? ]

[tall order. it requires more self-reflection of a sort Martin's not used to: the kind that isn't based in self-depreciation. it'd mean admitting to having decent skills or value in something beyond menial tasks or the bare minimum of what is needed to keep everyone around him satisfied with his behavior.

it'd mean assuming he doesn't have to be bored and idle with his thoughts, but...part of him is convinced that's his punishment for...a lot of things, not all of them as nonsensical as "just because."

he makes a soft sound through his nose as he thinks.]

I guess... I mean, I don't know. If it seems right for me to do, then I should do it, I guess.

[a beat. he lifts his eyebrows a little.]

What do you think I should do...?

Martin.

[ She sounds exhausted by now, because she knows he's missing the point- but she knows why, too. She should have expected him to take this route in his thought process. She puts her cup down and leans forward, toward him. ]

That's my point. You should do whatever you want. You can do that here, and as long as you're not- I don't know, hurting yourself or something- none of us are going to stop you.

[the tone she speaks his name in makes him go pink, embarrassed. he chews on the inside of his cheek while she reiterates.]

Right...sorry.

[...]

I guess I...I just. I don't know. That's. That's it.

[ It's strange and surprising to her how much she wants to- well, she's not sure. Ruffle his hair? There's something so sad and quiet about him that's made her protective, and she knows so much of that is their trials with Woden, but there's more to it, too.

She barely knows what to do with it. Part of her still barely comprehends she feels this protective of a kid. ]

You'll figure it out. Maybe you just need time. [ She pauses, trying to decide what she wants to add. ] The tea's good.

Rex picked it out. [as far as he's concerned, that's why it's good.

he's quiet for a while, slowly registering whatever's going on with the TV...isn't as good as the machine-stuff, but, eh. flowers. flowers are kinda neat.

then, kind of late, but:] ...Cassandra? When did...you figure out what you wanted to do?

Tell him to keep buying it, then.

[ She says, pretending she's going to keep coming here often enough for that to matter. She doesn't want to put this house at risk anymore; no one living in it deserves to be hurt again. She can't help but say it, though. And can't help but think she could so easily break her own rule, and buy time.

His question surprises her, and even startles her, somewhat. She looks a bit lost for a second. There wasn't a moment when she knew, really. ]

I'm...a bad person to ask that question. Especially considering my quote-unquote job was more whatever I could do to make money on a mythology degree. [ How does she explain this in a way he'll understand? He barely gets the Recurrence, she knows. ]

Basically? I grew up knowing by the time I was done with school, either a bunch of gods would be walking around in the flesh or a bunch of people saying they were gods would be walking around in the flesh. All I wanted to do was learn more about it, and I could. So I did.

[ What a bad answer. She snickers. ] But- if you end up at college, try to get a degree that'll actually pay you a consistent wage? And one that doesn't rope you up in millennia-old conspiracies.

[is it bad that the more Cassandra explains, the less Martin seems to understand? she's not even going out of her way to be complex, it's just...her life is...complicated, and far beyond anything Martin's known or come to expect.

between what he'd learned from Yato and the experience with Woden, the concept of a god is very jumbled in his head. there was rarely any notion of such a thing back in Olvoski, so he doesn't have much of a groundwork for it to start with. they may as well be what Rex explained -- just...other creatures, other people. taking up space.

but she says she grew up knowing what she wanted to focus on and learn. Martin was the same way, wasn't he? back before he was suddenly thrust into a world where everything he was learning and wanting wasn't applicable. so...it's...not that far off, right? maybe?]

Oh... [college?? degree??? wages--like rations? or money? Martin exhales, rubbing at his cheek.] I...I guess I'll try and remember that. Thanks. I can't even count a millennia, so I should be alright.

[ She snorts.

That's right, Martin, she's made a somewhat happy noise. She knows she shouldn't laugh at him, but that's such an adorably quaint reason to say he'd be safe, that she wouldn't have to worry about him.

She likes being around him more than she realized. Part of her knew that, of course, but she hadn't really acknowledged it. He's a good kid, and it's nice to see him mostly stable, happy. She wishes she knew exactly how to keep things that way. ]

It's more that if you see some sort of mass conspiracy going on, you should run away as fast as you can, but- alright. I'll take it.

softember [OPEN]

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