thebastion | Day 163 // Every plan is a tiny prayer to father time

Who: Zulf and you
Open: Open
When: Day 163
Where: Throughout the Bastion
What: Well, someone has to take up the kitchen work, and prepare Night's funeral, and write down the history and culture of two different cities...
Format: Anything
Warnings: Nothing immediately comes to mind, although it should be noted that Zulf is in a bad state mentally/emotionally so depending on the conversations, things could be described. Lemme know where you want to run into him!

As soon as he's able, Zulf leaves the hospital. It's not like he deserves to be there, after all, not with the dead, not with the injured. He's fine, isn't he? Besides... There's too much to do. So on the 163rd day of the Bastion's existence, feel free to run into him just about anywhere looking exhausted in nearly every way imaginable.

...Unless your name is Raile, Zia, Rucks, Colin, Rin, Zayna, Zahi, Nathaniel, or Rosethorn. In which case, seeing any of those individuals makes the man startle before immediately trying to find a way to leave the area before conversation can happen. Seriously, he will bolt if he has to, don't make him change from a quick walk.

Periodically throughout the day, Zulf can be found in the kitchens...

With Rin out of commission and Mireille still taking care of her baby, someone has to keep the kitchen up and running. Zulf still remembers the offer he made to her, so of course he's going to keep to what he said. Breakfast, lunch, dinner... He's not in the kitchen the entire day, but he's there often enough. His sleeves are rolled up and he's hard at work like maybe enough cooking will help things. Feel free to interrupt him at any time.

Sometime in the morning after breakfast, it's off to the the Hitachiin-Abe home.

It's something he's been meaning to get to for ages now, really. Seimei had asked about the Tazal Terminals and Caelondia. It's just proper that he finally get to writing all the large amount of answers. He's already holding some things in his arms when he gets there, a thick heavy photo album stacked with papers and crude writing tools- things he's scavenged here and there particularly from the Mancer Observatory. He's passed by the home before, but it's only now that he takes a moment to admire it. Any of the residents can find him waiting awkwardly by the front, not sure how to make his presence known.

Come night, well, that is traditionally the Lorn Mother's time. Anyone still awake... Well, there's a light on at the Shrine.

Honestly, he doesn't know the state of the Gods for all these other worlds that have fallen apart. All he knows it that the Pantheon still has its eye on the scattered fragments that once made up Caelondia, the Terminals, the Wild Unknown... So at least there's that. If she doesn't have anywhere to go or where she's going is worse than that, the Lorn Mother can keep her safe. If there is somewhere for her... Mother guide her home.

Either way, they need to have a funeral. Both to help her soul be free of its ties to the physical, and to help those still alive mourn.

So he gets hard at work, cleaning the shrine with an almost single minded dedication. There won't be any rest until it's spotless... Although he won't lie, he's doing his best to avoid any kind of rest as much as he can. So maybe someone will walk in on him doing that.

When he isn't cleaning, however, he's settled to the side. There's a small pile of salvaged clothing besides him and a sorry excuse for a sewing kit that he makes do with. Red seems to be a theme with the clothes he's picked out...

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[Another small nod into her shoulder, his hands going to hold loosely to the sides of her coat. Just a dream... Just bad memories distorting the future.]

[He stays that way for a while, finding comfort in the fact that she's there and her lungs are moving and her heart is beating. After a long while, however, he slips one hand away to reach for his pillow. There's something under it he's trying to reach.]

[She half-expects him to fall asleep again like that and decides she doesn't really need to get up anyway, until he starts to move. It looks like he's reaching for something, so she lets him go and folds her hands in her lap. Curious, she tilts her head and watches, but doesn't say anything.]

[It's a photo album, thick and full, that he gently opens between the two of them. It's the first page, something he's already shown once before to Raile. There are three large pictures, two at the top and one at the bottom.]

[On the top left, well, Zia should be more or less be able to recognize the dress even if some of its design are just a little bit different than those she's seen before. It's a warrior of the Ura, clad in blue and black typical of those who wield halberds. There's something familiar in the way her dark eyes seem to burn, although the expression is still fairly calm. Although it's not a part of the picture itself, there's obviously the glow of a fire warming her. Camp, it seems like. Resting on one side of her is a halberd, her hand near it just in case, and the other side... That certainly is the same exact pipe between her fingers just like Zulf owns. The smoke is drifting lazily from her lips, curling about in the air over her head.]

[The man in the picture across from her is dressed similarly and also wields a halberd. Instead of being at rest, however, he's upright and gesturing to somewhere with it. There's a large rock wall at his back, and just the hint of a tunnel near him...It's night on his end too, his pale skin standing out in the darkness. There's just enough moonlight for there to be something in his profile like Zulf's own. It's easy to spot the relief in his face- the kind that comes from someone who's been on duty for far too long and has something important waiting for him elsewhere.]

[With those two matching as well as they do, the last picture stands out as the oddball of the bunch. For one thing, it's not at night but at daybreak, or perhaps day's end- hard to tell. The much more noticeable aspect, however, is that the man in the photograph is Caelondian. It's obvious in his eyes, a warm brown, and his hair, a kind of dirty blond with streaks of white in it. He's older than either of the Ura warriors, wrinkles all across his face. The bow in one of his hands should be sign enough, but in case there's any doubt, the sigil etched into his light scouting wear shows his alliance to the Caelondian Breakers. For whatever reason, he's in a tree, a scowl twisted across his tired face as he pokes a Pecker with one of his arrows. The Pecker doesn't seem happy to see him either.]

[Zia has to lean in close to see the pictures entirely in the darkness. It takes a moment for the connection to click, and when it does, her mouth purses into a tiny "o" shape. She makes note of every little detail—where they look like Zulf and where they don't, how the pipe in the photo is just like the one lying around here somewhere, that there's certainly something ridiculous going on with that Pecker even if she can't figure out what.]

Your parents. And the missionary. [She gives a small, sad sort of smile—but a smile, still, because he's willing to share this with her.] Hehe, that poor Pecker. ...You know, you look just like them.

[A tired smile is returned to her, and he gives a nod. It had been a very long time since he had been able to remember the faces of his parents so clearly- he hadn't had as many years with them as he had wanted. All his memories of them had been from his childhood, and things did fade a little from the mind after so long... It's nice for those memories to be renewed.]

[The smile stays as she comments on the similarities between them, and he softly runs his hand along the edges of the page. After a moment, however, it fades and looks up at her sadly. There's a tap on the page, and then the hand goes to lay on her shoulder.]

[Do you remember how he said they died, Zia?]

[First she squints at where he taps the page, looking to see if she's missed something. His hand comes to her shoulder and she looks up. Even if she can't read the exact question he means to ask, his expression says enough. Her smile falls and worry etches into her face again—she almost says sorry, but doesn't see how it could help, so Zia just nods in understanding.]

[A tired sort of smile fits on Zulf's face far too easily; it's been too long since he's been able to smile with nothing holding him back. He lets the album rest in her lap as he scrounges for a piece of paper and some charcoal to write on.]

I've been dreaming about the plague again lately although I came to peace with it a very long time ago. [His fingers pause and his gaze seems far away for a moment.] I don't want to lose the rest of you.

[He doesn't have much anymore. He used to feel like he had everything he could ever want- a dream, two beautiful homes, friends, a fiance. The Calamity took that all away. Twice, even. Zia, Raile, even Rucks... They're the only ones who have managed to survive. But after Raile has come so close to death right before Zulf's eyes twice now and Rucks was halfway to being digested when they found him...]

[Zulf's scared all over again.]

We aren't going anywhere. [As much as she wants to, it doesn't feel right to promise, or to swear it's safe—not after what happened to Night, not now that everything's falling apart and she's still struggling to find a way to put any of it back together.] The boys are too stubborn to die, and I'm too busy. [The words come with a tiny giggle, but it doesn't last.

After a moment's thought, she reaches for Zulf's hand again.] I'm right here right now, and that's all you have to worry about.

[Night's death can't exactly be called the breaking point- what happened to Raile takes that honor. Still, it isn't exactly helping and Zulf is more aware than ever of their own perilous hold on living right now.]

[But in this moment, in the quiet of the tent and with her fingers on his, things feel a little more calm. Just a little. So he gives a slow nod, his other hand going to overlap over hers.]

[Smiling, she tightens her hold on his hand.] Everything's okay. I promise. [Because, at least right now, it is.

She waits a few moments, silently holding onto him so he can be sure she's staying right here, before speaking again.] But you've still gotta try getting some sleep. Not right this moment if you don't want to, but still...

[There's a tired nod and he carefully pulls away. He knows if he keeps putting it off, it's never going to happen... But he does make sure he's tightly holding onto her hand before he lays down again.]

[Zia doesn't let go, either, just shifts so that she can find a comfortable way to sit before he drifts off and her moving around becomes a nuisance.]

Sleep well. [And without much else to do, she starts flipping through the photo album left in her lap.]

Day 163 // Every plan is a tiny prayer to father time

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