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grasshopper 4; action
[ If there's a face Tidus should expect to see in the kitchen right after breakfast for Purple Team duties (of cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms), it should be this guy, shouldn't it--a guy he's going to know is older than he looks regardless of how that book purchasing venture goes.
But let's not get into unfinished threads here!Tidus himself is waffling on the chore, but he's had a distracted mind and figured, what the heck--washing dirty trays from breakfast is a good distraction, and clearing off the incoming dishes, by the looks of what's piling and waiting for its turn in the already active dishwasher.
But, pray tell us what Roland is up to before we get too carried away in setting up the scene, as Tidus has just made his way into the kitchen himself. ]
action;
OK BoomerWhen Tidus walks in, Roland immediately recognizes him even before he glances behind his shoulder with a smile on his face. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up neatly against his elbows as he pauses on his current task of cleaning recently vacated tables. ]
Good morning to you, too. [ He stands straight, one hand resting against his hip. The chore is paused, for now. ] Heh. I'll wait for the official tally from the referee. I could do with a pleasant surprise like that, lemme tell you.
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grasshopper 4, later
[ Chores are over, but book buying is not. And they're at least in the dining car than the kitchen car, since they probably needed a small break and a drink after the clearing up they did. Someone will have to come and do it again later, but is that really going to be Tidus??? ....he'll find something else to do to make the train happy.
For now, he's stood up from the bench of the long dining table, hands on the surface and a ready to go expression. Come on, let's spend points!! ]
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Your power of persuasion is unparalleled, Tidus.
[ Said only with just a slight hint of sarcasm. But nevertheless, Roland stands up and leaves his plate for now. He walks to the side of the long table, moving towards the door of the dining car, but halts just enough so he can gesture to the entryway. ]
After you, Mr. Big Spender. [ A smirk. ]
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1/2
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grasshopper 12
The hall is coated in shadow, light pressing into the curtains drawn to keep out the uninvited. Murmurs of the sea cling to the house outside, never possible to be silenced; more present than his own heartbeat, like a piece of his life more consistent than day or night.
Everything is as it should be, yet not: the furnishings where and what he remembers, but somehow distant and detached; lower even, than he’s ever viewed the room.
This is his home, but barely. He climbs the stairs with nothing but trepidation in the space where his heart should be, a tight knot of desperation. A pain in his throat as he approaches his bedroom door, knowing what awaits, but trying to be brave.
Except: The hand that reaches for the handle is small, the arm thin and young. The door opens anyway, sighing as it reveals the interior of the room as he knows it. The dream doesn't wait for questions.
“Mom…”
His voice is a blur, like the edges of the dream. He steps into the room to the sight of his wife in their bed, her head turned away.
Her head is always turned. She never looks at him anymore. She doesn’t care to know. Why won’t Mom look at me? We don’t need dad.
“Mom…”
He walks over to her, tears already threatening his eyes. But he’s been working at that, to be better. Dad called him a crybaby, but Dad’s the one who left them, who’s never coming back. So now he has to be strong, to let Mom know she doesn’t have to worry. She doesn’t have to go too.
But it doesn’t matter where he goes by her bedside, where he stands, how quickly he moves. Her back is all he sees, body shifting without motion. He never sees her face anymore. He doesn’t remember her voice.
Still, he hears their conversation all the same.
Not today, dear…
“But when, Mom?”
...
“Mom…”
...
“If you don’t get up…”
Not today, dear…
Desperation turns to anger. It’s because he’s gone, and if she would just forget about him, then everything would be better. Everything would be okay. So he starts about the room, doing all he can think to: opening up closets, pulling out drawers, knocking down photographs. Suits torn off their hooks and ties and piled together, just for some kind of reaction. Some way to make Mom wake up.
Because Dad isn’t coming back. He’s gone, he’s dead, and he can stay dead! I don’t care! I don’t want him! I don’t want this! I don’t want this!
Tiny hands try to tear into the fabrics, the bundle much larger than him, his raging having grown larger still. He knocks over trinkets and takes out drawers entirely, screams because he can, because he doesn't know what else to do.
And when Will looks over to his mother again--but he doesn't. He can't. She’s not anywhere now, just like Dad.
She’s gone. Just like Dad.
She left him. Just like Dad.
She won't come back. Just like Dad.
Gone. Just like Dad...
WOW SORRY FOR THE NOVEL
Roland has gone through the corridors of dreams and memories, once before.
It was a strange affair, with an entity wearing a suit and a rabbit's head leading them into an amalgamation of the real world and the emotions the dreamer once held in their heart. And perhaps, because of such a timely experience, Roland is aware of the tugging and twisting that eventually forms the landscape of his mind, tonight of all nights. It was only mildly pleasant at the beginning, watching apparitions play out words perversely, like a voyeur. But it turned for the worse when his own shadows were laid out to dry, the skeletons in his closet forced out of hiding. When Evan and Leander question the little boy with dark hair and pajamas, the one who no longer recognized him as father. The one who has seen the end, but waits still for his dad who failed to save their country.
The nightmares have come and go since facing the darkness of his soulmate, but from time to time, he still dreams. He is pulled back like waves crashing into a shore; into the narrow lanes of two lifetimes now - one, a world he helped create with the king he will serve for the rest of his life; the other, his birth home, the house he built for the nation he heralded into a golden age before the missiles flew straight into the air, cutting through clouds, toppling towers, skyscrapers, buildings as high as Babylon.
As Roland stirs and wakes into a new land of the dreaming, he knows. He knows that he is lost and he is uncertain of where his feet are taking him. He does not know why his hands are smaller, why his voice doesn't seem like it's his own. But all at once he recognizes it, somehow, in some way. The words are lost on him, but the fringes of his consciousness are pulling at him, begging him to open his eyes. The connection he has to his other self plays its part, shoving at him to return. But magic is not his to command, and moreso now in the magic of a dream, so it fails the task. Instead, Roland is stuck in a body that he knows and doesn't know, and the woman he sees, so lifeless and waning, strikes at him deep. It is the vision that sends an arrow so sharp, it nicks a wound that refuses to close.
No, this is...
When he blinks away tears he can't remember shedding, when his body pounds at the sheets of an empty space next to the bed of his mother - his Mother? - when he ruins suits and clothes and shoes and scarves out of spite, all he can hear is a voice that alienates him; that loves him; that is begging for him to come home.
Dad never came to visit me in the hospital. It was the same when Mom...
He chokes. The feeling is overwhelming. His chest feels like it's too small for its own beating heart. No, no this isn't real. None of it is real. Not with my own two eyes, not while I'm still alive...! He feels his body move sluggishly, weakly into place next to the woman with hair the color of warmth. He tucks his short legs into the sheets and he sits up against the headboard like he's been there from the start. The wall in front of them morphs into the sea, as he watches television. A speech was being played; it's an older man. Or is it a ball game that he's watching? His limbs are heavy, he feels sick. He's ill. He's angry. He's -
- What's happening to me...?
this is my home now
Tidus appreciates it, but he's not sure if he appreciates this whole being awake thing; where his body drags and doesn't want to do anything, and what a coincidence: neither does the rest of him. He can't remember if it felt like this the last mission, the realisation he was existing just to wait for the 'next time'.
His thoughts are going weird places. So he does what anyone else would do when in a slump, and goes to the store car to see what he can stuff his face with before checking out the kitchen for potential cakes.
Which should be his first order of business, but no. Maybe it's because there's a section of wall he wants to go and glare at, but that's weird and strange and certainly can't be the truth, so if anyone asks, he came for an apple. And he doesn't appear to be the only one in there when he slips on in, artificial lighting giving off a soft glow from above. Tidus doesn't realise it at first, checking out the nearby shelving, jogging his mind of where everything is. But he catches him then in the gaps when he recalls he has to go deeper in, and--
Oh. It's Roland. And Tidus doesn't need to disturb his path over to the apple crate for that, giving the guy a rather neutral - ] 'Sup [ as he does. ]
welcome, you are here rent-free forever 8)
Two from before the mission, and looks like someone used up some of the flour...That's fine, chalk it up to five. Carry the one -
[ He does what is usual of him, nightmare or none. He works. Roland is a worker and nothing in any void or dimension will stop him from doing so. He's been creating an audit system for the Treckers, and so far, it's been keeping him sane while helping out with the general operation of everyday life on the train. He was inspired to do this on day one, when he accidentally had to give Spark the cat a fish he didn't ask permission for. As by the books as he is, he had to return the next day to note what was missing. And just like that, he has returned every day since, attuning himself to when the train magically replenished their stocks so that he could properly audit how much more food and drink they had before the next cycle of goods came about. The audit was in clean handwriting, paperwork from a clearly experienced man who seemingly enjoys the grind. ]
[ As Tidus enters the stores, he is already leaning down on the closest surface, scribbling on the chart with recent updates since the mission had ended. Dry goods, wet goods, fruits, vegetables...Every category was accounted for.
When the young man approaches him, he doesn't even flinch. Doesn't even look up from his papers when he suddenly pipes up like a machine automated with reminders. ]
Tidus, what are you taking today and how many are you getting? [ He scratches some stuff out, writes something else. There are dates in Grasshopper and Fiddlesticks, the month he arrived. He's really been auditing since then... ]
nice, time to raid the fridge
enjoy your peanut butter and celery sticks
ok he'll eat that BUT ALSO UR NOT HIS DAD
yeah well do some chores first punk then we'll talk
tell off other people you nag!!!
he can't, nagging is reserved Exclusively For You
what did tidus do to deserve this
he'd miss it if roland stopped >8)
n-no!!
its okay tidus you got roland syndrome'd and now you can't live without a sermon 1x a day
pass he does not need that in his life
a-are you saying you don't need your uncle anymore :C
uncle needs a shed and a train set hobby to be distracted by
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grasshopper 30; SCREW REE I'M TAKING UP A SPOT HERE
But oh boy, does that go even a step beyond. Because even chores become a fun activity as long as he's doing it together with someone he cares about, and especially when it's his official Train Dad.
Even cleaning the bathrooms. Inigo might even be humming a little under his breath as he's scrubbing the floor.. Sue him, okay. He just loves being around Roland, no matter what they're doing. ]
Roland.
[ He says, trying to pull the other's attention, but only briefly glances over at him before he continues scrubbing the floor.. he shouldn't slack off, right? He can talk and do this at the same time! ]
You're always so nice, I can't help but wonder.. Have you ran into anyone at all on this train who you can't stand?
alright calm down, just make sure you got the nachos for this rent-free housewarming
He halts for a moment, glancing at Inigo with a curious expression, eyebrow quirked up. ]
Hm? A person on this train I can't stand...? [ He glances up in thought. ] Not really. Everyone's been accommodating so far. Why do you ask? Did something happen?
[ He leans back and kneels a bit straighter now, both hands against his hips. Roland cuts a picture of domesticity in this position, despite his authoritative way of speaking. He's a little concerned about where this line of questioning is going, kid. ]
it's okay i brought both those and the wine
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1/3 | CW: bullying
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3/3
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horeshoe 1
Which isn't like her. She wasn't there to knock on his door, no answer when he knocked on hers; not there at breakfast either, and he even got her some food, just in case the fish and rice got eaten up before she finally showed up.
But she hasn't, and--well, good thing about that Arms to put that away in, right? And the microwave to heat it up!
Tidus itching to go and check up on her again, try her room, but he decides to wait in the standard coach for a certain old guy to make his appearance. They'd agree to meet, make a few orders from a list they had--for their latte plans, and for others. Roland likes lists, so of course he was the designated list man.
With an eye on either end of the car, he stops looking once he spots Roland, throwing him a smile bordering on a smirk--a regular expression these days for the older guy. ]
Three hundred! [ That's a 'hi' on these days. ] Want me to buy first?
this icon, just for you
And so off he goes and it takes him all of a few minutes with his gait purposeful and strides eager to get plans in motion. He shakes his head upon hearing Tidus call out his points - always more than expected, but he's no longer surprised. Whatever it was Tidus was doing right, he wanted him to keep going, to help more people. ]
What, couldn't reach the gold standard of five hundred points this time around? Heh. [ He offers Tidus a pat on the back, amiable and warm, before he brings out a notebook with lists as promised. The ICP is already up and raring for them both, a faint glow illuminating the screen. ] Yeah, go ahead. 126 for me. [ He clicks his tongue against his teeth, but is otherwise jovial about it. ] I've got half a mind of asking this train to give team leaders a darned credit system so we can loan out points and pay them off later, but I feel like that's just asking to be duped.
ty dork
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horseshoe 1
The sound of footsteps makes him look up though - first curious, a bit surprised, but then a smile quickly appears on his face the moment he notices who just showed up. ]
Roland! [ It's the similar eager puppy greeting as usual, though at least this time it's not just Roland's very presence that's got the boy so excited. ] You're just the person I needed! I think I could use a hand here.
(ooc: potions list reference for later...)
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Roland registers Inigo only after he mentions needing a hand. His eyes turn alert, as if only now realizing someone else was there. ]
Inigo!
[ He halts completely. He manages to smile, forcing that nervous energy down to the depths. No. He couldn't know. No tears. Not now. Roland wouldn't be able to handle both of them, not on the same day. ]
How's it going, pup? Needed a hand with what? [ He crouches down so he isn't talking down to him. ]
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KJGKLJDF I'M SO TL;DR KICK ME OFF YOUR POST
YEAH RIGHT >:( get back here!!!
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horseshoe 5
Inigo is so tired. Of fussing. Worrying. It's practically been a constant drumbeat in his head the past few days, coupled with the uneasiness of the thought of whether or not all of this is going to ever get back to normal. Will Tidus ever come out of that room to face him again? Is Inigo trying to do too much, or is he actually doing too little in trying to respect Tidus's space?
He has no idea. He has no idea just how badly Tidus may be doing right now, and it's driving him crazy. Inigo is good at soothing, at hugs, at saying everything nice possible to try and make someone feel better. But waiting - that's something he's no good at at all.
And so his fussing turns elsewhere, trying to seek a target that he can at least help. Trying to focus on something he can do, rather than on everything he can't.
And thankfully - or maybe not, since it'd be better if he didn't have to fuss in the first place - there's an easy target for it. Someone who has noticably been overworking himself the past few days. Inigo tried spending more time with Roland, keeping him company, making sure he was at least eating, but nothing seems to fully keep the other off work.
Which means he'll have to bring in the big guns.
And that means barging into the new library, finding the table Roland seems to practically have claimed as his personal desk with how much time he spends at it, and just latching onto the guy's arm. ]
Father.
[ You know something is up when he uses that right off the bat rather than just saying Roland's name. He may even be playing up the puppy eyes here a little, but.. look. It's for a good cause.
And as a fellow notorious overworker when it comes to specific circumstances, Inigo knows exactly what to say to grab the attention of someone like that. ]
Do you have a moment? I need you.
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[ Roland's disposition has lightened somewhat, but his mind was still racing. If he wasn't busy worrying quietly on his own about a particular friend who he hasn't heard from in days - though at the very least, checking the ICP three times a day gives him some reassurance that his SCA was intact - Roland worries about the upcoming mission. Were they going to be prepared? Were the supplies enough? Did Purple have enough information on what to do if an emergency happened?
His mind replays it. Over and over again. The Voidtrecker Express home world. A false sense of security. They thought they were winning. Suddenly, clouds, strange clouds, entities no one could read. The train panicking, leaving. Purple - so many of them, all of them fighting so hard - and then in a blink of an eye, gone. Two left. Two.
Were they helping the good guys? Was the void ministry right? Thoughts that linger all in constant flux, with no one to talk to. Only one other person knew his own hesitations, but they were hurting and he couldn't blame Tidus for retreating into his shell. Who wouldn't? But he worries, still.
He worries for the weight of the responsibility he is naturally inclined to carry. He worries if he might just be witness to yet another tragedy he could not stop. Another missile he couldn't prevent. Another wipeout on his ledger. A friend, a good friend, gone in a flurry of magic and light. ]
Let me just finish this...
[ He's writing, faster, more practiced. Like he's done this countless times before. He has. Roland relishes in getting work done because it calms him, steadies him. It gives him an outlet to think without reprimand. It's the air he breathes when he has nowhere, no one, to turn to. It always has been. It might always be. But Inigo is there, clinging to his arm, and he glances to his side when he approaches though the activity doesn't cease. Not immediately. After a long moment, with Inigo swinging his arm around back and forth, maybe a hug too tight against his limb, he finally stops. He exhales as if he was holding a breath in. The pen is dropped gently against the page of his book, and he closes it with his free hand. ]
Sorry. I'm here. [ He tries to smile for him, but finally in his face, there is a vision of tiredness. Fatigue. His mind is wearing him out, but he was still going. ] What do you need, Inigo? What can I do for you?
[ He shouldn't forget: this absence was hard on Inigo too. Perhaps harder on him, most of all. And he's been so sweet these past couple of days. Lingering, staying with him. Asking him for time, reminding him that it's dinner at the dining carriage. It brought him back to when Evan and Tani would force him, literally, to eat. Leander removing the papers from his desk so he'd have no choice but to take a nap. Bracken's competitive nature driving him to finish work faster so he could get eight hours of sleep. Inigo was doing all that for him, in his own way, and Roland sees it for what it is. He cares. But Inigo was also sad. He was also restless, and afraid. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Roland is starting to read him better now, too.
So he shifts back into his paternal instinct, though his mind is still chasing one thought after another, distracted... ]
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[ on that day about the rice ]
Earlier, Tidus showed Roland the way of actually cooking rice to make sure it didn't come out as a sludgy mess -- and now came the actual cooking with it part.
But also more, as announced - and as seen, by the book Tidus has got set to the side, the flour container too, a measuring jug; a few spoons and mixing bowls, one of which Tidus takes out from its few and places near the scales he's grabbed from their usual cupboard. He opens up the book, slips of torn paper inside acting as makeshift bookmarks. From the front cover, it can be discerned to be a vegan cookbook.
"And can you see if we have, uhh... chickpeas? How about red onions?"
Did Roland know what he was getting into by getting Tidus involved in his cooking experiments? He should know by now, nothing is ever simple in his life.
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These are carefully placed on the freest counter, but he arranges them next to the measuring instruments so that there would be a neat line from one step to the next.
He stands there with a buzz of amusement about him, leaning one hand against the edge of the surface. "Anything else? Heh. Look at you go."
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WINNER WINNER BILLY BEAR DINNER
GO PUT IT IN A SANDWICH OR SOMETHING >:(
I **WILL**
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horseshoe 25
Which is why it's no surprise to Inigo to find the man in the stores. Probably.. counting something. Tidus would make a joke along those lines, Inigo is sure, but he knows he isn't nearly as witty. (And is way too soft and weak for his adoptive dad, let's face it.)
So Inigo doesn't quip anything as he enters the room, instead speaking up. ]
Father.
[ HE SOUNDS SO SERIOUS. To be fair, this is a serious thing to Inigo, who doesn't realise nearly as much just how dumb he's going to make himself sound in a few moments. ]
We need to talk.
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Inigo? Okay, sure. What is it? What happened, pup?
[ If he's THIS serious, it must be dire...He beckons him forward with a wave of a hand, finding a spare crate to sit on to get comfortable. Bracing himself for whatever it is he wants to say to Roland. ]
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1/???
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5/5
1/2
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horsehoe 28
It took clocks off of voting.
[ He sounds neither pleased nor disappointed. ]
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I saw.
[ He bookmarks his progress and sets the book down between them on the table. ]
And what did it add? A spa, plants, and a pool. [ He crosses his arms too, against his chest. ] This train is baffling.
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imagination 6; baristaaaaa
And it is, as Tidus predicts, not difficult to locate Roland. A chore when the layout is that of a multi-car train ride, and when one doesn't think about using their higgledy to go off looking for him first, but- look, we're still getting used to the last one being an option. But Roland should be glad he isn't hearing a message over the train ICP with one of Tidus's special messages just for him.
No, what he gets coming up the stairs from the bottom kitchen are the Twin Teens, Tidus in lead. A sceptical eye that isn't quite severe to greet him, a mouth bunched to the side that makes it more subtly humoured. As subtle as a guy like Tidus can be.
"Still opened for business?" He walks over with, all cool-accented like out of a wild west movie, if not laying on the accent too thick. It's still assuredly Tidus however, sighing as he leans against the counter. "Lots of shops are closing up for the comin' mission, people joining the rescue effort. Rumour has it up top wants you in charge of one of the units."
Brows lifting, he appraises what he sees before of the man. This coffee shop train slicker.
"What do you think, Inigo? He look the type to be leadin'?"
Think fast, Inigo!!
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'Let's do it at the same time,' Tidus said. 'Let me do the talking,' he said. Inigo should have known better than to trust Tidus wouldn't pull a stunt like this, just pulling the rug straight out from under his feet. How is Inigo supposed to improvise this fast?! Who do you think he is, Owain?!
But it's not like Inigo is going to ruin either the surprise for Roland or the roleplay, considering Roland seemed very much into it last time. So.. whatever! He can do this! He will do this! For his father!
"I don't know, partner." Inigo may be tipping an invisible hat before he steps up to the counter as well, leaning on it with his hands. He looked at Tidus when he said that initial part, but now his gaze turns towards Roland. "I guess it depends on how well this new potential sheriff of ours can serve a cowboy a decent cup o' coffee."
(Can you tell what movie they watched together last.)
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during the bonus trek, over the scas
So that's what he's doing now, trying to send Roland a message.
But as he selects the man's name from the list, there's no answer. Inigo knows the SCA is actually trying to connect, used enough to the thing by now to know when it is or isn't, but there's no answer. Roland isn't picking up.
.. maybe he's busy, Inigo thinks. But even as he waits a few moments and tries again, there's still no answer. And then not again when he tries again right after. And sure, Roland could be busy, but.. busy enough to ignore a call from him? Under their current circumstances? ]
Father..?
[ The word escapes Inigo's mouth, even though he knows Roland can't hear it, knows the call is not going through.
But what else is he supposed to do? Everything went relatively well up to this point. Well enough that Inigo was able to keep himself optimistic, think that somehow things would end up fine. Except now it's like something is starting to crumble away.
Where is Roland? Why isn't he answering? Is he in danger somehow, too precarious of a situation to be able to use his SCA? He can't suddenly be completely gone, can he? A few dozen of disaster scenarios all flash through Inigo's head. ]
Father, I.. I promised to not leave your side, that's why I was calling.. [ It's like his blood is freezing up inside of his veins. ] So why are you now the one who's gone..?
[ He clenches the arm his SCA is on, nails digging into the flesh to try and get his thoughts back together. ]
jelly 2, breakfast
ey? Too bad, you have a guy slipping into the seat beside you with far more cheer than any guy should have in the morning. A clatter as the tray makes contact with the surface, eggs and avocado and a mix of who-knows-what else on that plate? Well, the toast is easy to tell. Also, that most of the plate is eggs.Regardless- ]
'Sup! Hey, you up for some sparring later? You and me, bringing the swords out! No time for snoozing anymore.
[ Who else could it be but Tidus. ]
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Other than the offending fruit, Roland greets Tidus with his usual air of welcoming, making room on the seat and wiping his hands on a napkin. A rather simple meal of toast and leftover honey is all he eats, apart from an almost empty mug of coffee. ]
Heh. Good morning to you too. [ Or whatever counted for mornings on trains in voids with no concept of time anymore. ] You read my mind, actually. A little exercise will go a long way come mission time.
[ Plus, the last time he sparred with anyone was with...well, he can't tell him that. Roland glances over to the teen, shallow sips to his drink. ] Any developments on new moves, then? Anything you wanna show off?
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Kazoo 6, before the event; action (if you want me to change anything, just lmk!)
When she was looking through the items available on the Mission Supply list, her eyes caught on the arm band. Intrigued, she makes sure to track him down, before leaving the train. ]
Excuse me, [ She calls out when she catches sight of him. Despite her polite tone, her face doesn’t exactly show much. ] Roland Crane?
this is perfect :)
Ma'am. Can I help you with something today?
[ Assuming this is for the mission, of course. ]
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llama 16
There's no missing the sarcasm as dense as it is joking, a spoken grin to match the one on Tidus's face. He's free of sitting around on freebies duty, and he's glad to get away from it, and to not be in the midst of a kitchen bustle of someone else really needing to bake.
Arms go over the counter, and a large box appears from Tidus's band in the usual light dusting of gold. He opens up the lid before stepping to grab the vegan cookbook he already has opened on the page he needs it to be; eyeing for the ingredients to match them with what's been bought.
"You and me are on the same playing field when it comes to these, Rol. Baking is not my thing. And these pancakes of yours look...special."
Nevermind how often he's gotten involved with making cakes or cupcakes around here. Ugh! Give him a good fried rice recipe to make wholesale!
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Had this been any other occasion - a fight, a strategy to implement, a tactic to outwit - such determination would have made sense. Yet a regular bystander would argue that Roland had no business looking so utterly serious in front of this regular spread of ingredients. Neither did his getup have any right to inspire such resolve with the way he's staring at the spread of ingredients about him, an apron he hasn't used before tied tightly around his waist and neck, the sleeves of his turtleneck shirt elegantly folded up to his elbows. Roland played the part of homemaker a bit better than politician, though the dip on his brow could argue otherwise.
"If you don't leave this kitchen today proclaiming your newfound love for soufflé pancakes, then I've completely failed. Don't let up, got it, pro?" For Tidus was more adept at the task of freestyling around ingredients unknown, regardless of the challenge. The instinct to create was there; it's why he's delegated to make Taiki's vegan breakfast with different kinds of plant-based dry and wet goods that Roland would have sabotaged in good intention. Meanwhile, his own meal kit good was already unpacked to serve a test run, each available space of the countertops occupied in some manner. To his right, a carton of eggs, a bottle of vanilla extract, a pack of granulated sugar. To his left, bowls, whisks, spatulas, spoons. In front of him lay bags of cake flour, lemons, and the riven expanded to show more text. He had transcribed the recipe from its original storage in his smartphone, making instructions easier to read.
He pours over the steps one by one, like a blueprint for an architect ready to break ground.
"The good news is there isn't any baking involved," He clicks the riven to a mode where it stops scrolling unless he pulls down the transparent bar to the side, placing the entire device across them. The ribbon by the small of his back is tightened once as he makes room for Tidus's own experimental batch. "It's just the frying pan. But listen, if the pancakes come out and they don't jiggle on the plate, toss it. It has to jiggle or it's not a soufflé pancake."
Well. At least in this regard, Roland remains ever disciplined.
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merriment 1
Disappearances are always a difficult pill to chew on.
Regardless, he's pretty sure he knows where to find the man after some time. Giving Inigo that time first, then time for Roland to have by himself or with others; and then to the inevitable. Where else would the man be but his favourite particular spot in the library to gather his thoughts?
So Tidus drops by, a squeaking Hibber-Gibbers on his shoulder speaking up joyfully at the sight of the man; hopping and dancing in celebration once Tidus's pace comes to the pause.
And Tidus - he folds his arms, not sure where to settle his mood entirely. His expression complicated for it; somewhere between a humoured smirk, brow furrowed thoughtfully.
"Hey," he says, with Gibbs already beating him to the punch. "Welcome back."
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"Hey yourself. Just the guy I was looking for."
Roland greets Tidus with a bit more mirth to his expression, thankful that by this time of day, the haze clouding his mind has all but lifted from the moment he woke up alone inside the luggage car. And there's little reason to hide his true intentions too. Complicated feelings of coming and going don't have room to stew right now; Roland won't allow it when he's already missed out on so much. He smiles up at the blue high higgledy dancing about, gesturing with an open hand to transfer to his hold. He follows nicely, tiny hands balled up to make motions of joy.
He settles the sprite down, cradled against his palm that drops quietly unto his lap. Roland's chuckle is quiet, appraising Tidus with a keen, somewhat concerned eye, earnest in his regard. Hoping that all he really did miss is the simple count of time and nothing drastic, nothing that could have hurt them when his vigil was down, not out of his own accord.
"Wouldn't recommend getting folded up in a suitcase any time soon. Zero out of five stars. Heh. Anyway. You doing okay, pro? How are you?"
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25 nebula; return back to the train
They're finally at this point. Where the train's gotten spooked - and Tidus can't shake him of the apprehension of what's coming next.
There's one guy he should speak to. Someone he knows he should, no matter how displaced from everything his body feels. So he keeps his eyes open, asks Hibber-Gibbers in his heart to point him to Rannygazoo, until he can find the carriage Roland is in, and speak up as soon as he sees him.
"Roland."
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“Hey, you.” He replies after a beat, voice just as quiet as demeanor holds. There’s a lot he would like to ask on the get go, but it’s easy to remember his friend was one of those who disappeared the moment he sees his stride cross the distance. “How are you feeling?”
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closed to Inigo (@flatteries) | poi 16
His brow cocks up against his hairline, reading the prompt. "It says It's just paper, tear this page in half." Roland tilts his chin, resting against the crown of Inigo's bed of dark hair. "Wanna do the honors?" He suggests lightly, his free hand offering the open spine to the boy tucked close in case he has some pent up aggression to offer the poor page. His remaining free limb, he simply dangles to the side of the bed, their hands intertwined in a loose fashion.
Platform days are never easy for anyone on the train, so he could think of no other thing but the most suitable distraction for one, potentially restless pup.
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It's one worry less, though that still leaves a whole lot of worries. And maybe the only way to soothe those, no matter how temporarily, is just like this. His body tucked close against another warm body. The lights of the train already having dimmed a little. It makes it slightly easier to imagine the world to have shrunk to nothing more than this cabin, or even just this bunk. Like there's nothing else but him and Roland. Like Inigo, for a few moments, doesn't have to think of anything else.
It always makes him be just a tad sleepy. Not enough to immediately fall asleep, since he wants to treasure this moment more than that, but.. well, at least enough to seem a little dazed when he's suddenly snapped out of it.
".. hm?" is the boy's first response, just a small hum, the sign that Roland managed to catch his attention.
His head lifts just enough to be able to see the book the man is talking about, but even then, Inigo just blinks blearily.
"Isn't.. tearing books bad?"
Look, it might be a bit of a childish question, but Inigo is pretty sure people would have gotten mad at him if he tore a page in any of the books from the library here on the train, so the principle still stands!
(And maybe he isn't so scared of asking a question like that around Roland of all people. The other would never judge him - at least Inigo has that comfort well settled in his heart.)
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