December Catch All

[slightlytaller]

Who: Waver Velvet + Assorted CR, with open prompts! Closed will be added as they are planned.
What: Waver is recovering from drinking the Depresso Espresso and keeps a few promises.
When: Throughout December
Where: Throughout Trench

Content Warnings: Depression, Grief, Death, PTSD, Survivor Trauma, Past Suicidal Ideation, general warnings for a Type Moon canon. More will be added as needed.

Comments

[martyrofduty]

There he is. The Waver that survives without Iskander in his day and age. The one that gets busy and stays busy. The one that will help Trench whether it likes it or not (probably not). Duty likes him, not that liking him is necessary.

"I work with dicks," Duty says, including Waver in that category, "Get the job done."

It's one piece of the puzzle, the one multiple Pthumerians both don't understand and are interested in. It will teach them a lot about Trench and help it survive. Duty will sacrifice his blood and organs as needed. He cares a damn lot more about it being effective.

He shakes Waver's hand firmly, no threat and no slouch. He repeats, "Together."

"Keep me in the loop," Duty says, "I'll pass on what I learn about it."

[slightlytaller]

Jun Ushio had asked him a singular question: what will you build now?

Waver hadn't known what to answer at the time. But, with his h and firmly clasped in a deal with Duty, he was starting to see the silhouette of it on the distant shores of his dreams. What it would be and what it would do were answers he did not have yet, but he had a why.

Whydunit was always the most important question to ask in any mystery.

"Of course," He said briskly, still clearly wearied but with more spark than he had before. "You're the boss; this is standard practice for me."

Roles and responsibilities. Hierarchy. Politics. These were games he had learned the rules to as readily as he had learned everything else in his life. At least this was straightforward. Mostly.

He heaved a sigh.

"I'm going to need to figure out what to do about my apartment." He uttered heavily. "It's hard working in there. I can still smell his presence sometimes."

[martyrofduty]

Boss, the same term Yuan uses for him. Fine by him. It mostly means he handles the interpersonal issues, administrative duties, and the bigger picture. Stuff he's all good at. This project, like the outpost, is close to his heart. Oh how Trench has wormed its way in, much like the kids in his life.

"Hmmm," Duty considers the statement. It's not a direct request for help, but it still feels like an invitation. John could, if bothered, preserve the apartment frozen in time. Iskander's scent and everything else locked in. However, it isn't healthy. It wouldn't help Waver.

"Work somewhere else. In time, you can work from home again or move," Duty answers. It's that simple when you get down to it. Logically, at least. Emotionally, messier.

[slightlytaller]

Waver much preferred Duty as a boss over others that he had worked with-- like his menace of a sister, who periodically poked at his buttons just to get a reaction.

Reines won her game every time.

"...I suppose you're right," he said, sighing heavily. "I'll find space, I suppose. The Reverend Daughter has a space by the lake, and my classroom is not fully in good form yet.

Is there space at the project you've been working on with the other stoic gentleman in town?"

[martyrofduty]

Trench is full of spaces. Waver could clean up any space. That's already in his cards with the classroom. Much of it depends on what Waver needs from a space to work. Even Duty isn't familiar with all Trench has to offer.

He considers the shed he's taken over at Bone House, but it seems too likely to irritate someone in the house proper.

"Outpost Haven has space," Duty says slowly and stands in quiet thought. It's not a simple shoe in. That's not how the outpost works. This study of the connection between Patron and Sleepers benefits Trench, yes, but it doesn't inherently help the outpost.

"What could you provide the Outpost for it?" Duty asks. Blood is the simplest answer, as vileblood is part of the mortar, but it hasn't been as hard to come by as expected. He looks intently at Waver. "I assume you aren't a blood virgin."

Waver doesn't seem the type.

[slightlytaller]

"Please, Duty. I popped that cherry within my first month."

But he understood that point-- and that would require a little thought.

[martyrofduty]

Duty rolls his eyes, but not from some high horse. His didn't last twenty-four hours. Too much to do, more than enough blood.

Then he stays there, smoking his cigarette. Waver got the idea. He can wait.

[slightlytaller]

"...I did it to enchant a weapon with someone I have an informal alliance with. You probably know her-- she made quite a mess herself after John tried to start a war with this world's guardian of the underworld."

He waved a hand, flicking some ash in the snow before elaborating. He didn't see a reason to get into his own theories about the Pthumerians for the moment.

"My point is, I'm an alchemist. I've been enchanting small items for gifts and trade since I arrived, with bloodstones I bartered for at the docks. Growing up alongside a muddy river has it's benefits, and sailors are game for business if you treat them right."

By that, he meant respect for their knowledge and skills. He knew how to sail a small boat, and appreciated how difficult the task was for someone that made it their trade.

"I've been meaning to get into bigger projects-- like more weapons, defensive items, and the like. A young man tapped me for an assist with an incense bomb; we can follow that pattern and make other items too."

[martyrofduty]

Breaking one's blood virginity to enchant a weapon for someone formalizes that alliance a bit. He looks at Waver, a little amused, because so many people made messes of themselves at that time, the time Duty came to stay. The title for Mariana's of as much interest as that, however. Guardian of the underworld. Hmm.

"Useful skill," Duty agrees, "That could work."

He's not one for insulting any profession. His experience is more with spaceships than seafaring ones, but it's no small matter. Large enough ones need not only one person but many. Crew cohesion's important. The isolated close quarters give less room for cooling off. Oh yes, he respects those issues, even without grumpy necromancers missing dead land.

"Asking—you or me?" Duty asks. He's more curious about Waver's answer than ensuring his preferred option gets chosen.

[slightlytaller]

".... You're the boss."

Trust was hard-- but, he was going to have to learn it to do this work.

[martyrofduty]

Duty thought about it for a few moments. "I'll let him know to expect you."

It's on his behest that Waver's doing this work, but it's Waver's work and his job to make it work being there. If D agrees to it.

[slightlytaller]

A nod.

He didn't know what to say-- a 'thank you' seemed ill fitting for being seen and taken for exactly the sort of person he was. So few people ever made such refrains without there being an excessive amount of baggage or strings attached. While he didn't doubt Duty needed his skills, he also saw something familiar in the normally stoic manner Duty carried himself with.

Waver had seen the same haunted look countless times in the mirror.

"Very well," He said briskly, shrugging his shoulders and finding the steel within him to stand a little taller. "I'll gather what I've got and get it organized. My landlady will appreciate the lack of explosions in the small hours of the morning, as well."

He didn't elaborate. There was no need to. Duty knew his habits and projects well enough.

[martyrofduty]

Duty nods and looks at Waver, "Live."

What Alexander told him. What Duty's requesting of him. What Waver holds himself to.

There's nothing more he needs to say. He finishes the cigarette and leaves.