4:00 AM - open

[ABATHUR .]

The feeling of dirt beneath his claws, against his hairs, simultaneously irritated and pleased him. The soft malleability of it, for one, was pleasant - it was cold, but not freezing, not unpleasant like the air outside. It was like clay, but sans the pressure of actually making something great, as he was just digging a small hole, not trying to form a work of art or anything so grandiose. He wasn't the artistic type, anyways. He was cold, logical, scientific - even if he was beginning to observe how people worked more closely, he wasn't a very emotional being, despite how his current hobby might seem.

The downside of the dirt was that it got everywhere, and it was rather... well, dirty. His hairs did not enjoy the extended exposure at all, if you'll pardon that temporary personification - it was a very unpleasant feeling when, after about the second hole, he realised that all this dirt wasn't coming off very easily. Still, he continued, dropping more seeds into the little plot of land outside his house, which - conveniently - was built for a garden.

At some point after removing it from his house, the spider had dumped all the furniture from the humans into the junkyard, and as such he was left with a very empty house (he couldn't attest to the visual presentation of it, but he'd have to imagine it wasn't too great). Much like most, he wasn't a fan of the emptiness. It felt too much like a tactile version of blindness for his liking, frankly, and as such, he decided to start decorating with the first thing that came to mind: flowers. He'd start on the outside (which he was working on) and tend to a garden while scavenging flower pots or adjacent containers from the scrapyard - after having a collection and being confident with his abilities, he'd start on decorating the inside. A foolproof plan, frankly - not that there were any fools to mess such a plan up.

If he were to be totally honest with himself, though, this was something of a coping mechanism for him. Busywork was as likely to keep his mind off of the existential despair that set in after losing his vision, after losing the ability to read - a difficult thing to lose for him, an academic. He still didn't really know what he was going to do with his life - he was considering investigating sapient psychology, but that wasn't a surefire thing, especially with his blindness-induced self doubt - for how would he record his findings without being able to see? He didn't know what to do, but he did know what he was doing right now. All that he had to focus on was the task ahead, and after that, all he could focus on was doing it again, but better. Do something, do it better, move on after you reached the peak of your skill, and repeat with something else - that was the cycle of life, in his eyes.

He dropped in a few seeds, and then covered them up, pausing for a moment to contemplate his next course of action, before moving on to dig up another small plot.

tags - "speech"

[Abattoir]

  She knows where he lives.


  Itsy had asked around in a most unladylike fashion, wanting his whereabouts. The information was not all that hard to come by despite her shy demeanor as she murmured the question out to an NPC Tangler. They had pointed her in the proper direction-- she scurried back to her willow tree far out near the border, unable to think past the pulsing of her blood through her body. Hastily did she jot down into her journal all sorts of fanciful, romantic words, completely enamored by the mysterious male-- She approaches his home now, not caring much for the time, as they were creatures of the night, yes? A friendly visit.. simply, simply a visit. If Itsy could swallow nervously, she would, but for now she settles for fidgeting, scurrying movements as she hurries along to the blind spider's home-- blind, she knew him to be, as the NPC had chosen to tell her. Yet somehow able to find his way around with little trouble. What a man.

  Itsy pauses a few body lengths away from Abathur.

  She stills. Unmoving, breathless, weary from the intensive scuttling she had been performing. Wispy clouds pass over the moon high above. Starlight glitters against their carapaces, glints off of his milky and her lucid black eyes. The wind is gentle. Cooling. Tugging along the waving grass and soil.

  She taps the ground, then waves a leg in the air to properly capture his full scent on the chemical-sensitive hairs lining her legs. Almost.. like a wave, in greeting.

"Abathur." The flustered spider manages. "May I ask what you busy yourself with at this hour?"

[wormwood.]

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AURUM

DO NO HARM BUT TAKE NO SHIT !

[/td][td]

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Aurum had attempted to grow a garden once. In front of his old, tiny shack of a home, he had attempted to grow a few rows of various flowers in order to make the place appear nicer, and out of a sort of desperate bid to get Crowley's attention, since he had noticed the other liked plants. However, the proxy had not been quite as methodical about his planting as Abathu was currently being. In fact, Crowley had claimed that Aurum was cheating, since the lion had utilized his earth elementals in order to pull the plants up and forth from the earth, accelerating their growth and making his garden quickly. Really, it sort of was cheating in the grand scheme of things, but Aurum hadn't cared much about it then. After all, he had achieved his goal of beautifying the outside of his house, and if he was remembering it correctly, he and Crowley had ended up having a nice, albeit awkward little conversation about plants and gardening. That might not have seemed like a win to most people, but to Aurum, who at the time had still just been beginning to grow close to the demon in question, it had been a total and utter success, if only to see Crowley opening up a little bit more, and relaxing within his comfort zone.

Although the lion held slightly positive memories associated with gardening because of that little incident, he also held a great deal more negative feelings for the task nowadays. This was mainly because of the absence of the demon who had piqued Aurum's interest in gardening in the first place. Crowley had disappeared for many weeks, apparently giving into the throes of a depression nap to end all depression naps, and once he had finally woken up from it, all of his plants had been dead, collapsed and decrepit from the lack of care from a sleeping owner. Aurum had thought maybe then that Crowley had finally made his return, and they could talk through their feelings together. However, it had been weeks since that particular event had happened, and Crowley had once again vanished into the nether. As a result of this, Aurum found himself disliking gardening more and more, faintly glaring at the happy and colorful flowers that poked and paraded out from the front of people's houses, eager for exposure as the winter came to a close. The angel didn't want for gardening to be associated with such negative things for him, but it wasn't as if he really had a way to change it for the time being. He had no idea where Crowley was, and he wasn't particularly keen on expanding power to regrow a garden in front of his new home.

So, when Aurum found himself passing by Abathur's home and saw the large spider digging holes in the ground before filling them with seeds, he found his heart sinking slightly in his chest. He got the usual unpleasant dipping feeling that came with thinking of past positive memories now tainted, but he stubbornly ignored that, making his way over at the same time as Itsy. He offered her a greeting with a little wave of his paw, before he looked back at Abathur. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the dirt, already seeing it begin to stain his golden paws brown. He ignored that as well, adding on to Itsy's statement, "And do you need any help with it?"

━ I'M GONNA WIN.┆PROUD. WARM. PROTECTIVE. ━

[beck.]

[align=center]

    Dirt may as well been the only consistency surrounding him, a halo of filth fit for a creature birthed in the field and raised in the slums. He could never fully clean the dirt under his nails when he was alive, no matter how hard he scrubbed in river water or smuggled soap out of town. Even his very bones now existed under layers and layers of soil, bones now likely eroded into dust twice over. What can one do? If he couldn't escape the sty of his lost life, he may as well get over it. Although, Beck still found himself splashing water onto mud-splotched freckles and fur every now and then. He supposed now he didn't mind the dirt all too much; it gave him some amount of character beyond scars or birthmarks.

    The little ghost sighed quietly to himself, dark fur still drenched from privately wading into a thawing stream. It wasn't exactly a tub, but he could do without lavish privileges. When he returned to the ash remnants of his home, perhaps he could scavenge through the exposed basement for a towel or just air dry in the sun -- his thoughts scattered as a tossed clawful of soil splattered his side, reversing the effects of his backwoods bath in seconds.

    An expression of dismay opened his mouth into a stunned frown, looking to the direction of thrown dirt and slumping upon discerning the black blur of Abathur, soon joined by another oversized spider and the always omnipresent Aurum. Curiosity encouraged him forward rather than spite for his dirtied pelt. A huff fell from chewed lips. Anyone could tell that the arachnid was planting something, assured to him by glancing at prior holes with little white flecks and overturned earth. Both crowding Abathur's work had to have been blinder than the cataract-afflicted spider himself.

    So the poltergeist shook mud from his frame and rolled onto his haunches, mouth twitching as he waited to speak. The others tossed their offers without hesitation -- they would probably benefit from gardening with Abathur, either gaining his trust through kindness or boosting their reputation of a generous saint. Beck studied the whisker-like fibers decorating Abathur's legs and how they trembled with every movement even while caked in dirt. He hummed in thought, a stump of a tail wagging idly. "Hey, Ab," he raspily chimed, "I have some seeds from all over the world if you want to use 'em. They've... kinda been sitting around, so..." Better to be put to use than be stored within a soot-covered cardboard box for eternity.

[ABATHUR .]

Of course people would have come by. Frankly, he should've expected that - people seemed to hound him at every turn he took, to use phrasing harsher than his feelings. It was a miracle that he had managed to avoid them for those few weeks he was absent, considering his track record. They even managed to somehow find him when he first found this house, even though he hadn't been doing much to attract attention. Maybe put a few chairs and tables outside, but. Well.

Besides the point.

Abathur did not stop when he felt Itsy approach, nor when she knocked on the ground kindly, alerting him to her presence (he had already known she was there, though; her walking pattern was quite distinct, after all), nor when she waved her limb in the air. Not even when she asked her question did he stop performing his action. There was no indication that he was about to respond at all, really, up until he grumbled out, "Gardening," simply, smoothly, as calm as could be. He is oblivious to whatever feelings she may have, of course - he could only sense things like heartbeats and shuffling of limbs, after all, and Itsy's heartbeat was usually the same whenever he saw her, so to speak. He did decide to indulge her a little more, however, taking it as a natural curiosity, not the pursuits of a hopeless romantic, but even as he spoke he dropped in a seed (only one this time; he decided to experiment with varying the numbers, seeing what that would produce). "Needed to... what is expression? 'Spruce up the place'? Add something to home - was told it looked lonely." The depth of his voice and the flatness of delivery allowed him very little flexibility with tone, but regardless, he seemed pleasant enough. Even his mention of the 'lonely' comment wasn't dropped with any spite.

Aurum was next, which he almost completely passed over in his mind, except there was something different in his tone when he spoke this time. The lion hadn't really intrigued the spider much since after the latter had joined, but this wasn't a bad thing, necessarily - it just meant that Abathur wasn't much inclined to seek out Aurum's company. Sure, there were things that were interesting about him; the wings, the attitude, his omnipresence, but Abathur was content to let those questions go unanswered, and just be nice to him instead. Keep a friendly rapport, yes? Aurum was certainly nice in return. Cordial to the last straw, only changing his tune one time that Abathur had seen, on the border of the Pitt, but that seemed... uncharacteristic of him. The exception, not the standard. His basic pattern recognition told him that as an outlier, it should not affect his judgement of the male's person. Not that he was one to judge regardless. He pushed dirt to cover the seed, just a little bit, and left it to be, speaking up after that small action was completed. "No. Harder to grow, improve, with outside assistance. Prefer to do hobbies alone." He rolled around an addition to that statement in his head, wondering if it would sound weird, before deciding to just go with it. "Additionally, do not want to waste any subject's time, if they have more important tasks." Another pause, this time with him tapping the ground with his palps a few times, in thought, before finally saying, "Though, can subject let self know if any dirt gets... outside area?"

The last person to approach would be the only one to successfully get him to turn around. Beck was surprisingly present in his life after that whole house fire thing. Perhaps he had just made a strong impression then? A black spider on a night background, the raging fires of Beck's old home reflected in his pale green (at the time) eyes. This marked the second occasion the ghost had opened up conversation with him, and he certainly was a polite little thing, wasn't he? Even with that odd tenseness in his muscles, the one that screamed discomfort at him, he had been perfectly pleasant. Not a change of pace, exactly, but it still shocked the spider every time another person repeated the pattern of treating him recently. His offer, though, was nice on a new level. The spider immediately turned upon hearing his words, pedipalps beginning to work their magic, rubbing dirt from his forward limbs, while he looked at but didn't see the dead child. "Yes," was his immediate response, the silky quality of his voice an interesting contrast to Beck's small rasp. "Please. Would be extremely appreciated - could use for indoor planting." As one unaccustomed to kindness, he was similarly unaccustomed to gifts, and this definitely threw him off his rhythm. Perhaps he was reading to much into it - that thought did occur to him - but regardless of Beck's intentions, Abathur was wowed, to put it simply. "...Thank you." Was his final statement before someone else began to speak, the words alien on his metaphorical tongue, yet genuine all the same.

Although it seemed a strange expression to him, he could already tell that he liked it - certainly something to save for a more genuine feeling, though, to add to the emotional weight of it.

tags - "speech"

[beck.]

[align=center]

    "Cool," he sighed, letting out a rattling breath he didn't realize he was holding. Muscles refused to unwind, however. Not with Aurum around. But the motherly disposition of Itsy helped slightly. Who would've guessed that two giant spiders could ease his short-circuiting nerves? He glanced over the both of them, humming lightly in thought. Maybe... they would mate. Eventually. Like on those nature documentaries he blankly watched into the morning hours, eyes ringed with shadows and stinging from blue light.

    But didn't the females cannibalize the males once their business was done? His stomach turned at the thought of his newest and eight-legged friend being eaten, his guts liquidized and slurped out by that unseen spidery mouth of his lover in a cruel example of Mother Nature's dark side. If that was the case, he didn't want to see any spider egg sac around following the disappearance of Abathur. Even if the babies were cute.

    Sucking in a sharp breath, the boy shifted his attention back to seeds and gardening, although he couldn't chase away the nagging idea of spider sex even as he asked, "What types of seeds do you want? Like herbs, flowers, fruit, veggies... or do you just want random ones?" Both he could follow through, although his arbitrary selection favored the more eye-catching and aromatic of blooms along with practical herbs.

[wormwood.]

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —

It was sort of charming, watching Itsy and Abathur interact, so much so that Aurum was hardly all that upset by Abby interacting less with him and more with her. The two of them were sort of like awkward lovestruck teenagers, just with a heaping helping of absolute genius on one side of the equation. The proxy admittedly didn't know too much about spiders or how they went about finding companionship, but he could certainly qualify what Itsy and Abathur had going on as flirting. Or as close to flirting as the angel was sure he would ever see from one such as Abathur, who was usually far too preoccupied with his own goals and curiosities. Much like Beck, Aurum found himself wondering exactly what it would be like to see Abathur and Itsy children skittering around, but his mind was far less preoccupied with the vicious female eating male part and more occupied with what an Itsy and Abathur child could possibly be like. One with the brains of their father and the warm, charismatic nature of their mother? That child would surely be unstoppable as they grew. The thought made him chuckle a bit.

While the male was fairly certain of the fact that he didn't really have anything extremely important he needed to do right this minute – his proxy duties were debatable in terms of how important they were, and he did most things he needed to do in the morning – he supposed he could understand what Abathur was saying. He just wanted a little bit of time on his own. The proxy found himself nodding his head, ready to turn and head off to let Abathur get what he wanted done, but then the large arachnid spoke again. He wanted to know if he got any dirt outside of the area? Aurum looked warily over at Beck's dark and dirty pelt for a moment before he spoke in a rumble, "A little bit of dirt got out and I think hit Beck, but... it's fine. I'll help clean up a little. No big deal." He began to move around the edges of the little gardening area, sweeping up the dirt with his tail and his large paws. The dirt stained his golden fur a little bit, but he didn't mind that much. After all, all it meant was that later he would have to go for a quick bath in the brook while hopefully bathing in the sun at the same time.

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #722227; font-size: 24px;"][color=#c16f78]— AURUM

#psychosocial.

[CAUSTIC.]

Caustic made a fair amount of moving when he moved around the camp, and that didn't bother him. It was his default state. The wolf walked slower than others (he wasn't training to keep up the the test subjects in the ring, so relaxation was allowed) his steps were lumbering and his shoulders moved up and down as he placed a firm paw in the ground. Walking was easier now, since Octavio had given him the prosthetic, but Caustic desired gloves or something to cover it. He hated everything about his form, from the way it ate, to the way it relieved itself, to its comfort with sleeping on the ground.
Fixing the portal maker was faced with obstacle after obstacle- Caustic attempting to hold and use tools, resourcing parts from the junkyard and trying to fix a 28th century object with parts from the 18th. The wolf had settled in rather well, otherwise. Food was more accessible here, he had an actual house, a basement to work in, and a vastly superior landscape. And, so far, Tanglewood had ignored him. Which was good in all manners, he didn't want someone like Aurum or Leroy to start poking around his home, asking questions. Where did you come from? What brought you to Tanglewood? What can you do for us? Meaningless and awful. Caustic needed them to stay out of his business. Fixing the portal maker was a task for him and him alone, and the last thing he needed was a lion with a justice virtue banging his basement door down. They didn't need to know anything about him. The wolf just wanted to fix the stupid thing and get out of here with Octavio.
Frustrations aside, he could pull himself away for a few minutes, just to grab something to eat. Caustic lumbered outside his home, making the beeline for the mess hall when he spotted Abathur and a few others. He stopped for a moment, staring with his hardened gaze focusing on the group. While he had sparing interactions with Tanglewood's members, Caustic could not deny his fondness for the spiders, (and there were two now! Delightful!) they were creatures of nightmares that the mad scientist felt a kinship with, and used some in the creation of his gas. Abathur seemed to be... gardening now. Alright, he'll bite.
The wolf approached closer now, and Caustic let his mouth open slightly, his gas flowing forth and framing the sides of his face. "Excuse me," He said, moving past a few of them to stand near the male spider, briefly glancing at the female one, then back at the ground. The scientist squared his shoulders and sat up when he felt he was close enough, standing adjacent to Abathur to lean over him and observe the work. He figured his walk would be enough to warn the spider of his presence. "Abathur, yes? What seeds have you planted into the soil?" Caustic's quarters back in the game had a few plants of his own, they were part of his work and he enjoyed their silent company. Their lives ever so delicately held in his hands as a bonus as well. He looked over his shoulder now, glancing at the few he pushed past, tail flicking at Aurum, and the dots above his eyes pulling together in confusion at the sight of Beck, but pushing away the curiosity as the ghost spoke. "do you have a collection of your own seeds?"

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