ioduanlogs | [december catch-all] once more, with feeling

Characters: Rutile, a bunch of others, and you!
Date: Throughout December
Location: Around Aifaran
Situation: Rutile antagonizing people
Warnings/Rating: None so far!

Rutile is woken by the peek of the sun through the window, its rays chasing away the last vestiges of a nightmare that leaves dread deep in their core. They glance around, noting the monitor, the shelves, the board games with missing pieces scattered about the room - this is not their clinic. This is Aifaran. The Dreaming Bridge. The common room.

They don't quite remember drifting off, but their limbs are heavy with fatigue and their heart with loss, and it takes some significant convincing to force their their body to sit. In the distance, there are stormclouds.

---

A ▸ HOUSE GODS | yato (commerce 3, late december/early january)

Rutile's only understanding of money is that more of it is better, spending less of it is preferred, and spending none of it is best. So they've frequented flea markets and pawn shops and other holes-in-the-wall the last several weeks, searching for the best deals on household necessities that are affordable with their limited funds. The nick-nack store they wander into is filled with junk - selys-shaped tea steepers, figures with bobbling heads, strange "cooking" implements that all seem to have the same function, mismatched dishwear and socks with novelty sayings embroidered on. Little of it seems useful. None of it looks worth much more than Rutile's pinky finger.

"How hard is it," they wonder, as they examine a box that tinkles out an off-key tune when poked, "To find useful things? A bowl? A set of tools?"

B ▸ EXPERTISE| open (crime 3, early december)

The tiny stall, tucked away in a dark corner of the marketplace, is selling jewelry. Rutile wouldn't normally concern themselves with this, but the pieces are something spectacular: glimmering stones set in lovingly twisted wire or knotted cord, in shades of yellow, turquoise, and bright green. They take a closer look, entranced by the merchant's promise of diamonds, of all things.

"May I have a look?" Rutile asks about a particular diamond piece, and when the merchant generously nods, they bend in. With an expert's eye, they note the dispersion, the cut - and their eye narrows. "I must caution you," they say, "that you have misidentified this stone. It is not diamond, it is titania. A common mistake for the untrained."

"Yoooou must be mistaken," the merchant replies in a shrill voice, speaking almost through their nose. "This is a great price for a rare stone. You can have it for ten percent off."

"I don't care about purchasing it," Rutile insists. "It is the label that concerns me. It is misleading."

"You don't buy, you don't stay."

"No, you're not listening to me. Let me explain..."

C ▸ HARD KNOCK LIFE | open (mid-december)

Rutile's talent isn't that much to speak of, and it's not what gets them approved for the volunteer force stacking sandbags around the city. It's their peculiar strength that does that, the strength that finds them lifting three or four bags of sand at a time and depositing them about the city. The strength that lets them build a wall of sandbags entirely on their own, and the one that keeps going when the other volunteers have gone on break.

The work is welcome, and not difficult. It's methodical, and rather mindless, and the action of contributing to something keeps them from spiralling off into remembering... well, into remembering. They are rather sullen during this time - the sun has been gone for days, and with it most of their energy reserves - but they are happy to strike up a conversation when prompted.

D ▸ MISTAKEN IDENTITY | jacen (mid-december)

Rutile is back in the Dreaming Bridge for the first time since their re-arrival in Aifaran. The place is still distasteful in their eyes, and they keep their head down as they enter, steadfastly taking the long route which will avoid what were Padparadscha's and Antarcticite's old rooms. In fact it is their old room that they approach and their old door they knock on; though they've never been one for nervous ticks, they tap their foot as they wait. The sooner they can get out of here, the better.

E ▸ IS THAT A THREAT | open (justice 1, mid-december)

Rutile has popped down to Die Rose Tulpe in a rather dour mood, the bitter aftertaste of nightmares experienced yet poorly remembered driving them in search of company. When the rain begins instinct hastens them out of it, and fortunately the cafe is only around the corner. Other people have had a similar idea; the cafe is actually quite busy, and a quick glance around shows no one Rutile immediately recognizes. They stand in the doorway, rainwater rolling from their hair and dripping off their nose, their lovely sage tunic soaked through.

They've barely slid into the single empty seat when their historically poor luck with the Sentry kicks in. "Let me see your identification and empty your pockets, please," says the officer.

"I will empty your skull," Rutile idly mutters, as a wooden coffee stirrer splinters in their grasp.

F ▸ MEANINGFUL WORK | valdis (arts 4, late december/early january)

All it takes to get asked on the committee for redesigning and updating the architecture of some minor buildings in Aifaran is a portfolio and a demonstration that yes, Rutile is capable of some rudimentary geometry. The portfolio is a little longer in coming, but frequent trips to the library to study up on the principles combined with centuries of drawing detailed crystallographic structures leaves Rutile quite qualified for the position.

They arrive to the meeting early and pick a seat at the corner of the table. Unobtrusive, but present. Near the door, but not quite so. They are a picture of prim prestige even despite the storm; not a hair out of place, they observe with a bit of humor, catching a glimpse of their reflection in the glistening wooden table. Tapping their nails very gently on the wood, they watch as other government employees pass in the hall outside, waiting for others to arrive.

G ▸ WILDCARD | you!! (throughout december)

[ supply your own or hit me up on plurk or discord! ]

Threaded | Flat

It's a very confusing and surreal first few days of December for X. There are a lot of people he means to touch base with in the aftermath of his waking up, and some of those keep getting put off despite his best intentions. Mentally, it doesn't feel like he's been asleep for a month, so missing all that time still stuns him on occasion. Physically, it absolutely feels like he's been asleep for a month, so he walks around Aifaran a lot more than normal to try and coax his muscles out of their lethargic and permanently exhausted state.

The sound of arguing catches his attention, but it's Rutile, a familiar and welcome figure, who draws X over to that corner of the marketplace. He's learned very quickly not to get involved in every argument he overhears here, but there's an inbuilt instinctive exception when it comes to his friends.

"Is everything alright?" he asks as he walks up. It looks like the merchant sells -- oh, dear. Precious stones. That might explain what started the argument.

Working security for the council meeting for rebuilding after the storm hadn't been what Valdis expected when her commanding officer said he had something different for her to do. The chances of anyone actually doing something that required her to act were slim and hence this was an even bigger waste of her talents than managing interrogations. She opened the door to the meeting room, intending to do a sweep before the others arrived. To her surprise, Rutile sat at one corner of the table, their nails tapping on the wood as they waited.

"I see you have returned," she said, her tone lacking any sort of care, "You look well."

She left the door open as she moved around the room, checking scents and for any trace of things that didn't belong.

This particular afternoon sees Die Rosa Tulpe so swamped with customers that the Fool finds it necessary to step out of his usual role as artisan in residence, and to provide some assistance behind the bar. (The extent to which this assistance results in anything other than more confusion is up for debate, but let it never be said he is unwilling to assist when the situation calls for it.)

He'd spotted Rutile upon their arrival and had made a mental note to slip over to greet his long absent friend once the rush had died down, but the appearance of the Sentry intent on hassling one of the customers rather expedited that process. Frowning, he wipes his hands clean with a cloth, steps out from behind the bar, and makes his way across the cafe to come stand by Rutile's side.

"The Sentry! How serendipitous," he declares, all smiles and sharp eyes. "You must be here to address the disturbance I reported. The one just outside and across the way." He points out the window with a needling finger. "Just there."

He's pointing to some pastel blue balloons tied up outside the front door of a tea shop.

Glowering, the Sentry nevertheless grudgingly looks out the window, then back towards the Fool. They scowl. "Begging your pardon, but you did not just call us here to investigate some bloody balloons."

"No, I daresay you'd have better things to do," the Fool replies blithely, placing one hand on his hip while the other flourishes another gesture out the window. "But surely that can't be normal behaviour for balloons, can it?"

"What do you mean--" the Sentry begins, but when they have turned to look over their shoulder again, the balloons have begun to transform from their shade of baby powder blue into a red nearly as deep as blood. The Sentry startles, and starts forward to investigate with alarm.

The Fool watches them go with raised eyebrows, evidently none too bothered by the balloons. He turns to greet Rutile with a warmer smile. "They can be such a bother," he muses quietly, ostensibly referring to the Sentry.

[ Yato's started to accumulate some regular clients now, thanks in no small part to Ilda's persistent advertising and his own positive work ethic of actually doing his jobs well. One of them is stocking inventory, but when he overhears Rutile's voice from the front of the store, he pops his head out. His jersey sleeves are rolled up and he looks dusty from the back room wares, but he's grinning when he sees them. ]

Rutile! You're back!

The Academy libraries were Devin's first priority, but since the campus is located on higher ground there's less risk and he requested to be retasked to helping shore up the city at large.

While Devin may not have Rutile's practically indomitable strength, he is stronger than most. He's also built a few walls of sand bags in his time, albeit for purposes of war rather than flooding. Back then, though, he had to disguise how much he could carry and how long he could work. It would have been rather obvious he wasn't human, otherwise. Now, though, Devin can be more useful.

"Keeping busy, I see," he remarks offhandedly, heaving one of the bags down off his shoulder and settling it across those already placed. A bit needling: "Practical research?"

It’s an unfamiliar face that Rutile finds opening the door for them, but he’s friendly, smiling.

“Hi there.” Jacen’s about to say something more, but he suddenly laughs — his batcat, a tiny one he’s named Annie, has decided to scale his head again and is now in the process of climbing up his neck, legs clinging to the back of his neck. It tickles.

“S-Sorry. Can I help you?”

B!

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A.

C!

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