talking to ghosts

[ninjavampire]

Who: Miggy & You??
What: Miguel stays behind to do dead honoring activities
Where: the Pole to start
When: Late October, Early November (Day of the Dead time)
Warnings/Notes: themes of mourning, though it can be lighthearted also

Miguel would be reluctantly absent during the action around Halloween. A strange enough decision, given his first instinct would be to throw himself into the fray as a distraction.

But as of late, he couldn’t hide that something was eating at him. The gloomy spell over his mood seemed more intense than months prior, burning away his patience and making short tempered remarks and the flashing of fangs more easy to let slip. He'd done okay keeping things somewhat under lock, but it was clear now something was definitely wrong.

And so, after some tense, but persuasive conversation just convincing enough to accept staying behind, Miguel finds himself idle on a quieter and lonelier Pole for a few days.

((prompts incoming - brackets or prose are fine))

Comments

Carving (open)

[ninjavampire]

He didn't consider himself the artsy type, but with a burst of inspiration and a strong desire to busy his hands and his thoughts, Miguel ends up on the work floor.

With his talons, he begins to use some wood blocks to carve rough forms out of the unused chunks. The claws on his hands were wicked things, making easy work of wood-shaving without losing any sharpness - but in this case, for something rather innocent.

He really was not an artist. The table is littered with aborted attempts to shake the rust off an abandoned hobby. The figures were mostly simple, cute animals - things a child would enjoy more than something Miguel would make for himself. A turtle, a rabbit, a parrot.

The third or fourth attempt would come out easier than the last, and he finds himself lost in the process of making.

Re: Carving (open)

[credit_not_blame]

Stacia doesn't hover at Miguel's elbow in her investigation, because that's a good way to get whacked by someone's funny bone by accident (or get deliberately elbowed if the person notices you and wants to teach you a lesson). It's very interesting though: Miguel isn't like Bunny, he's not into cute stuff. He's not even into cute stuff ironically. And he's doing this in the middle of the workshop and Stacia is nosy as hell, so she settles in to wait until he notices her.

She also starts eyeballing the wood carving tools nearby and wondering how likely she is to injure herself if she starts messing with them...

[ninjavampire]

There are few things less fitting than Miguel, with his deathly serious and measured mannerisms, using all his focus to finish the detail-line of a parakeet beak in his latest roughly hewn invention. There. Done (ish). Given he was used to doing this another material entirely, it didn't look too bad.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare?" The question comes out a little harsher than he meant to, probably. Although momentarily distracted, he was still in too foul a mood to perform politeness right away.

The cuteness of the critter held oh-so-delicately on the hook-ends of his claws dampens the effect, somewhat.

[credit_not_blame]

"Yes," Stacia answers, as casually as if Miguel had asked his question with sincere curiosity. She props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her palms for good measure. If he thinks he can make her feel shame for observing him as though he were a weird bug, he's got another think coming. And, really, she could have been far more annoying: "I considered running commentary, but decided to go for the ASMR experience instead."

Smile, smile, cute face; like she's never done anything wrong in her life.

"I definitely wouldn't have guessed 'woodcarving' as a hobby of yours, but it looks like you've done this before."

[hallelujahjunction]

"I should have would thought this was your work," Dan says, entering the workroom with some slabs of balsam. "It looked carved by claws."

Dan, by contrast, is quite at home and confident in the work floor with his woodworking tools. His most recent work has been prepping Christmas gifts for people, which at this point has mostly gone into carving intricate keepsake boxes - personal, because they're handmade, but not an imposition on anyone and not anything so personal as to be uncomfortably, forcedly intimate. He's made one for Miguel, but he's made one for almost everyone at the Pole.

He sets the balsam down and starts to set up his own workstation, which is partially a woodworking setup and partially a craft studio for sewing and sketching and whatever other artistic pursuit Dan's decided to throw himself into that day. That he gravitates towards tailoring and woodwork is obvious based on the volume of tools and fabric swatches, but there's a little bit of everything. The yetis let Dan have run of the place and the elves mostly ignore his materials because he's left a decoy out for them, a repurposed cat toy with a ball and a bell that he leaves pieces of candy in for the elves to entertain themselves with.

"Are you planning on painting those?" Dan thinks of the beautiful painted wooden animals in Oaxaca and wonders if that particular artisanal tradition made it to Nueva York. He hopes it did. It's always a shame to see culture squelched to progress, lost to time.

[ninjavampire]

"No. I didn't plan on it." he says curtly, making brief eye contact out of the corner of his eye.

Miguel hadn't really made plans at all. The beginning of November got closer and closer and he found himself confronting the hole in his chest he had desperately been avoiding. And it had filed off what little cordiality he had. Dan will have to forgive him for that.

His adjoining set-up wasn't much of one. He found an empty table to slouch at, gathered whatever unused scrap material was sitting around, and got to work. Physically, and at attempting to whittle away the malaise leaving him so relentlessly ill-tempered. It had been a good way to busy his hands on something in a less destructive and angry way.

"I was thinking about someone." he admits.

Although simple, the carving in his fingertips had details from remembering a specific animal he had seen, rather than going more abstract. It had a basic indication of slender claws and the general shape of a turtle you would see in a freshwater pond. He carefully makes a deep line to carve in the overhang of shell over neck.

[hallelujahjunction]

Dan isn't bothered by the curtness at all. After all, he's the one interrupting.

"It's the right time of year for that, ain't it? The ghosts always start coming out around the Equinox and then they just keep coming." Because after the Equinox is all the celebrations of the dead, and after that are the winter holidays. The finals months of the year are rife with reminders of loss and bereavement.

He gets out his rulers and chalk and starts to mark up one of the planks of balsam wood in front of him. Where Miguel's left ill-tempered, Dan's finding his zen in the ratios and angles and planning for another puzzle box. He thinks about the time of year. He thinks about what Miguel just said.

"Me too, honestly. There were a few years I was celebrating Day of the Dead with someone." Because that was something Ellie liked to do; that was part of the culture she brought into his life, alongside so many other things. "I ain't sure how to approach now that I'm solo."

He may be married, but compared to his tight, us-against-the-world, only-have-each-other bond with Ellie, he feels so alone in some respects.

Cempasúchil and Candy (Open)

[ninjavampire]

A portal opens up in the Relaxation Room close to Halloween night. Rather than frost, the gate shuts with a playful flurry of faintly glowing, golden flower petals. It appears to be the tail end of a very long and unexpected journey off the Pole. 

When Miguel's mask blinks off, he looks tired and a bit disheveled. In his arms are the fruits of his errand: an assortment of richly-colored marigolds and other flowers. One in particular had a faint glow, and its petals were a creamy pale color closer to bonemeal than gold. 

There is also a plastic bag of candy that most certainly garners some elfish attention when he sets his things down with a -Thunk- on a table. 

"Don't touch that. It's not for you." he snaps at a curious hand taking a chance with the sweets. The sudden, harsh tone elicits a peep out of three elves, tripping on each other in a snowballing comedy of errors. 

[bestbrotherever]

Loki looks up from his reading and makes a mock pout of disappointment.

"You brought candy and are forbidding the elves from having any of it? Really, Spider-Man. That is unbecoming."

[ninjavampire]

“If I let one get a taste, then the entire pack will swarm in.”

Unbecoming Spider-Man will be keeping a close eye on the candy while he sets up some floral wire to form a ring. Another golden petal or two fall from where they got snagged in locks of hair.

This latest project of his seemed ridiculously low tech considering his usual subject of obsession.

“And like I said, it’s not for them.”

[bestbrotherever]

Loki shakes his head, smirking. "You do not know how to handle this without any stolen candy or hurt feelings? Let the wicked God of Mischief teach you a little."

He conjures a large bowl out of light on a table far from Miguel, then opens Lokispace and pulls out a large bag of candy, the type that stores sell for Halloween preparation. He whistles, then pours the candy into the bowl. "This is all for you elves, and there is more where it came from."

Offerings (Castmate/CR)

[ninjavampire]

On November 1st, the decorations are set in a nook of Miguel's nearly untouched bedroom. It was easily the most colorful thing in the sparse space, used only for the functional requirement of sleep.

The altar was a ring of marigolds on floral wire, with loose purple hoary stock and gypsophila flowers. Candles, a glass of water and the nicest of the carved wooden critters are arranged alongside a few other effects. Flower petals are also scattered in the corner - the whole thing was a mostly small and unassuming affair.

"Discúlpeme, mija..." he says to the picture-less arrangement. "If I carved the usual fruit, then the elves might sniff it out and try to eat it when I'm not looking. But I have this instead - easier to hide."

A locked and laquered box with hidden peanut marzipan and chocolate is set at the center. Despite the solemn nature of it, Miguel sounds lighter. Or maybe he's simply a little more at ease with himself at the moment.

* (( 'mija' is a term of endearment for a daughter. He's apologizing in a sincere but lighter way. ))

[favoritefearlesshero]

"I left out a basket of apples for them, it seemed to work as a distraction," Puss says quietly from the doorway. He's standing just outside the threshold, not going to enter unless he's invited.

Puss knows the ceremony. There's no mistaking that mix of smells, though Puss never had a home to put an ofrenda in. His life took him on constant travels, but the smell was the same everywhere in his home country. It's solemn and a celebration all at once, and it's hard to keep a lid on the feelings it stirs in him.

So he stands outside of Miguel's room, not sure how his presence will be taken.

[ninjavampire]

He never quite entirely loses the strict lines of his face, but he seems softer. A little more muted and vulnerable than usual.

When he turns to the surprise visitor, he doesn’t look offended that Puss was there. So. That’s about as good a welcome as Miguel tends to give.

“Maybe with the candles, that’ll be enough to last the night.” he replies with more amusement than anger at the situation. The scent of candles and incense seemed to throw off the trail of treats.

“You’re back earlier than expected.”

The mission must have gone well.

[favoritefearlesshero]

"Indeed. Our plan played to all our strengths. Especially mine."

Puss's tone is quiet, but light. Ordinarily, he might not care if he gets under Miguel's skin, but not tonight.

"You should have heard me sing. And Branch was OK too, I suppose."

He takes Miguel's lack of animosity as an invitation to come inside. He stops when he's side by side with Miguel, and then takes off his hat...

And plucks an egg off his head. It's painted with a little golden vest. He very gingerly sets it on the ofrenda.

"...Don't worry. I shall take it back to my own room when I leave."

[orivodika]

Boba is still pissed that no one let him go on the mission. He's spent most of his time since then sulking.

He goes to Miguel's lab to tinker. He doesn't have a project now that he gave Branch the shock baton, but he's got plenty of things he can mess with. Unfortunately, the door's locked when he gets there.

He doesn't bother knocking when he gets to Miguel's room. He just opens the door and walks in.

"What are you doing?" His original question completely leaves his brain when he sees Miguel's setup.

[ninjavampire]

He reacts a little slower than usual, sucked in by the process of going through the motions over the past few days. Miguel stands straight and turns to face him, even-keeled despite the more solemn look about him.

“A ceremony from back home.”

He wasn’t a religious man, but doing all the preparations had its effects on him. A way to make remembering a little less painful.

“Did you want me to open the lab?”

He figures that’s why the kid sought him out - Lucky seemed to be possessed by a similar bad mood after being to told to stay on the Pole.

[orivodika]

Boba moves further into the room. The wooden carvings have caught his eye more than anything else. He's never seen those animals before.

"Yeah," he answers, clearly distracted from his original goal. "What's the ceremony for?"

He's attempted to covertly peer around Miguel to get a better look, but he isn't being all that covert about it.

[changechild]

Something is tugging at Need in a peculiar way. She splits her attention and investigates, peering through living senses, going from one mind to another as she gets closer. Mostly hopping between the perceptions of elves, and then - oh, yes, she knows this one. Miguel's made some kind of ancestor-shrine, she assumes, though she doesn't look into his memories.

That pull is still there. It's not remotely the same as that brand, which had constantly reminded her that Guts' soul was hanging there crying out to be eaten, it doesn't have that ugly aspect at all. Still it reminds her, in a comparatively friendly way, of things she's taught herself to ignore.

Deliberately she causes an impression of a presence that starts distant and draws closer, like she's something that can come into a room to stand behind and to Miguel's left, to look over his shoulder and see what he sees. Living people are often more comfortable if they think of her as having a bit more distance from them than she actually does.

:This is nice,: she says, with less edge than usual.

[ninjavampire]

Miguel also seems to have lost some of combativeness that made him even less pleasant to be around. He wasn't happier, per say, but the heavy weight inside has gotten a little lighter while going through all the motions of the holiday. At hearing the voice percolate in the room, the peaceful look on his face tenses up, though he decides to keep his eyes closed in thought.

"I'm going to assume you know your ghost manners." he remarks, and it's only half accusatory, with the other half daring to venture into something approaching humor. Not that Need seemed capable of eating candy or drinking water (wrong kind of ghost).

[branchifer]

Branch's throat is still hoarse from yesterday's events so he decides to go get some tea.

He's experimented so far with his new power, realizing how much control he has over it. It seems a little tied to his emotions. He has to feel big. Try to embrace a little confidence. But once he grows, it sticks pretty well and he doesn't have to work hard to sustain it. And his clothes, belongings in his hair, and any items in his hands grow and shrink with him.

Boy, does it make it easier to get around. The world still tilts a little when he walks, the perspective shift is weird and a little disorienting, but he can cover so much more ground.

He just actually needs shoes for once, since weighing more means sharp things underfoot have a greater capacity to actually hurt his feet. The yetis custom made little slip-ons with rubber soles he can keep in his hair to grow and shrink with him as needed. To any humans, they look like barefoot running shoes, the kind where the individual toes are separated out.

(An attempt at a more classic sneaker had just had him tripping over his own feet with how unused to shoes he is.)

He's still getting used to walking in them so he almost trips at Miguel's door when he passes by and sees what's inside. It's the sight of Miguel himself that's so striking. He looks way less tense than usual. More at ease. He's about to do the usual and drop a sarcastic comment but sees the display and thinks better of it.

He missed what Miguel said in the beginning, so even though the translation magic might have translated it, he doesn't know who the altar is for. But it's so strikingly similar to his culture that it's easy to guess what it's for.

Flowers. A gift of some kind. The quiet solemnity as Miguel talks to it. But also the way it sounds like he's walked in on a conversation with a loved one.

("I got this for you, gran'ma. We can - we can still do it together," as he'd spread puzzle pieces out with tiny, dull grey hands.

It didn't feel the same as when he'd done puzzles with her. There was no joy, there would never again be that sense of security, the world would no longer sense the way it did as her hands guided his in snapping together the very last piece each time, where it fit perfectly.

They were a family of seven now reduced to one, his mother lost to a collapse in the escape tunnels just after he hatched, before he had a chance to know her, his brothers scattered to the four winds, and now his grandma snatched away from him.

But there'd still been a small comfort in imagining purple hands pressing the pieces into place with his, as he knelt there alone in their empty pod, refusing to abandon it until others in the village forced him to go with a foster family. When he was finished, he'd wiped the tears off the pieces with his hand and carried the finished puzzle on a macrame'd placemat and put it on the little table with all the flowers and gifts other people in the village had brought.

"You can keep this one," he'd hiccuped out. "If you can't do them with me you should have one of your own.")

In this moment, Miguel is not some irritating, controlling giant jerk. For one, he's way less huge and intimidating when Branch is this size. Closer to just... a person. A really tall person. Not a mountain of jerkface, not someone that cues as hostile in Branch's brain partly from the size that is combined with his attitude.

But also he's a man with connections to others - or at least who had connections to others.

He's a person that remembers someone's favorite candy and wanted them to have it.

Branch decides the best thing to do is give him his privacy. He's not really the person to offer kindness here.

But he's not used to his current size. At his normal size he's capable of traveling in total silence. It doesn't occur to him how easy it is to make noise, especially in an ancient wooden building like this. He steps back past the center part of the hallway to a part that isn't walked on as much and there's a very loud and noticeable creak from a loose board. Almost comically loud.

He winces. There's no way Miguel didn't hear that and it'll be obviously he was hovering in his doorway.

[ninjavampire]

Miguel's experience of the whole thing was mostly: having his peace and quiet interrupted by scurrying footsteps in the hallway. He decides to ignore this at first (their sleeping quarters were all packed enough to rarely make it completely silent).

Then, the footsteps stopping at his door, leaving him guessing who the hell was hovering outside. It was a little too heavy to be Puss or an elf (the total lack of jingling also nixed this) yet too small to be any of the human-sized individuals running around. All trains of thought that were taking away from the original purpose of him setting things up here, in private and away from distractions.

And then comes the SQUEAK of wood that may as well have been blasted right next to his ear with the way his shoulders jerk and talons flick out. The peaceful moment earlier? Very firmly blown out like a candlelight.

"Do you need something?" he snaps back over his shoulder. He... dislikes that this is his immediate reaction while trying to celebrate someone much kinder than he was. But all he wanted was one night without something stupid happening at his doorstep, damnit.

The narrow glare widens somewhat when he realizes he's looking at Branch, only several hundred times larger. This ridiculous new development does nothing to cool down the burning irritation in his chest. But it doesn't seem to escalate things either, so maybe something can be salvaged..

[thismaskismybadge]

Gwen arrives back a little later than most of those who went off to handle the witch problem. But then she'd left sooner, too; by the time the witches were an issue she was already tangled in the familiar task of defeating one of her very own villains who'd been pulled in to cause havoc. Doc Ock had certainly delivered that, him and that... creepy, super-powered octopus that he was bonded to (seriously, why did she have to get the weird Doc Ock... she never thought she'd be so jealous of people who only had to fight mechanical tentacles).

Harder fight than it used to be, took longer than she would have liked, and Gwen wishes the weird sucker marks from the attempts to crush her would fade quicker, but it's dealt with now. He's gone again, and she's back at the pole. She even had the foresight to leave herself a sweater and comfy pants to pull on over her suit on her way to the bedrooms.

She starts with every intention of heading right back to her own room to crash for the next twelve hours, but she has to pass Miguel's space to get there and...

She can't help but stop, when she catches sight of him in front of that altar. As if suddenly rooted to the floor beneath those faithful chucks she still wears like they're part of a battle uniform, not just a pair of shoes stolen from a friend.

Her lips press together, her eyes squeeze closed, she breathes deeply, and says: "...sent good ol' Octavius home with his tentacles between his legs again. So that's one more problem off everyone's plate."

—as if making a report like any other report she's made before. A mask of familiarity. Structure. Easy to dismiss her from, if he'd rather she not intrude. For all that there's still those threads of tension, she knows a personal moment when she sees one and isn't going to just barge right into it.

[ninjavampire]

By the time Gwen rolls around, Miguel seems to be mostly waiting for sleep to take him as he sits at the corner of the mattress, watching the remaining candle lights. The candles were all reduced to stumps of varying heights, wax melted in a spreading curtain of little dribbles caught in brass bases. He was hunched over, arms resting tiredly on his knees.

His relationship with rest had always been a troubled one, but he had a much easier time of hiding it from other Spiders when he was on his home turf. Out here, it was a bit more neutral ground, and he couldn't hide behind several levels of access doors and elevators that can be locked on a whim.

So, with a reaction thats a little more sluggish than his usual snap to the nearest object of attention, he finds Gwen there. He was too much of a workaholic to ignore a report.

"You're back."

One eye gets the sleep rubbed out of it, and he returns to the stiff-backed leader he always tried to project to the others. Though, still one sitting on his mattress.

"And he didn't give you too much trouble...? Any injuries?"

A quick look over seemed all right. No blood.

Re: Offerings (Castmate/CR)

[credit_not_blame]

There's a knock on Miguel's door. Three knocks in quick succession, then a pause, then another three knocks. Apparently, someone wants to make sure Miguel knows that yes, he is being summoned to his door.

Mostly because Stacia does. Then she skedaddles around the corner as fast as her little feet can carry her, leaving an open box behind. Inside is a note, a little toy goat, and a handful of hard candies. The note reads:

For the kid (pun unacknowledged).
-Stacia