01 - Bake a Pretty Cake (ota)

[firsteditionbfs]

WHO: Angeal and whoever wants to bother a man throughout a week
WHAT: Roosters and bread oh my
WHERE: Town
WHEN: The vague existence of October
WARNINGS: none planned

SUMMARY: As a practical man with goals, Angeal has a lot of things he wants to do to make sure his household is doing okay. This means things like re-establishing his bakery, and carrying a rooster. The rooster is important. Don't worry about it.

A - Agriculture

While the autumn air makes things somewhat cool, that doesn't seem to be a matter that's bothering Angeal as he pushes a wheelbarrow along the more residential streets, filled with dirt. He does take a break occasionally as he goes about his business constantly, sometimes carrying little bags on top of the dirt. "You would think dragons could have better timing, rather than right at fall," he says during such a break to anyon who joins him. There's the faint glimmer of gold up along his hairline, horns that are just starting to appear. He doesn't seem happy about it.

B - Bakery Remade

For those making their way through Town today, they may come across one of the empty not-residential buildings with its doors wide open. There are a variety of encounters to be had with this simple fact...

For example, early morning may find anyone passing directly in front of the doors having a face full of dust. Angeal's voice comes from inside. "Ah, shit, sorry. You alright? I was just cleaning this place out. Need something to get the dust out of your mouth?

By noon, a pleasant smell is wafting out of the newly cleaned out bakery. Anyone is welcome to step right inside, as the doors have been left open for the time being. It's not a big fancy place or anything, but there are a couple of tables for anyone who'd like to sit, and a good amount of space behind the counter. Angeal is hard at work kneading more dough as bread bakes in an oven, fairly content with how things are going for the time being.

When evening finally rolls around, Angeal can be found relaxing right outside the bakery with a decently sized piece of wood in his hands that he is making a commendable go of carving words into. "I should have asked for a smithy," he says casually to anyone who slows down enough to linger. "I don't know anything about woodcarving."

C - Cock

Angeal has a rooster tucked underneath his arms at the market.

None of the locals are batting their eyes about this.

Other people at the market, however, may have different reactions. They may especially have different reactions when the roster (otherwise being a pissy little football hisses at them.

"Sorry about that," Angeal says casually. "He's not happy about the situation."

D - Do Whatever

[The wildcard catch all option, for interacting with Angeal however you want]

Comments

[worthallthis]

"Maybe not for you." The asset is not, after all, a person. It might not be normal for a person, but for a weapon, who knows what "normal" actually is. Still, he is tentatively admitting, at least in the privacy of his own mind, that he is not particularly keen for the memory circumstances to go back to "normal".

Even though: "It can be a little. Troublesome. Keeping it all straight. Feels like my head is very full."

[firsteditionbfs]

It's not normal for anyone, and shouldn't be... but Angeal keeps that to his chest. Slow and steady wins the race.

And, more importantly, helps cases like this.

He's had plenty of time to learn from his experience with Sephiroth when he was younger, after all. He's ready for this.

So instead, he focuses on the current problems Ivan is struggling with, and he nods. "Yeah, I figured. I know ink and paper are a bit in short supply, but do you think it would help to write out how your day goes? Like a journal for yourself."

[worthallthis]

He seriously considers it, from multiple angles. "I probably know how to write," he decides. "Though I don't remember ever doing it. And having it all down in one place would be. More organized."

And, he thinks to himself, if anything ever did go back to "normal" he would have it down so he could see what happened to him before. Provided normal didn't come with handlers who would take papers away from him.

[firsteditionbfs]

"Then we can figure out a way to go about this." Angeal grins. "I've actually heard a little bit about someone who is willing to trade some feathers and such for a bit of help, and I think that's a good start for a quill.... or at least something to fill a pillow with later.

"Once we're done here, interested in looking into that? No better time to start a project than right now, and all that."

[worthallthis]

He looks sidelong at Angeal. He finally has to give in an ask, "What's a quill?" And what does it have to do with feathers...? Look, he is not from a medieval society. He had immediately imagined a pencil when told he would write something. He doesn't know why he imagined that, but it's in his head, and he knows what it is.

[firsteditionbfs]

Ah, so that's where the gap in knowledge is. Well, Angeal doesn't mind it - that's just liable to happen and he doesn't know what this guy's messed up life had done for his history lessons. Hell, it might not even be that. Quills just might not have been a thing in his world.

All this transdimensional shit is wild.

"It's when you take a particular sort of feather - usually one of the longer ones - and fashion its nub in a ways so that you can dip it into ink," he explains. "Then you use it to write like that. Used before pencils and pens and all that were more common."

[worthallthis]

"That sounds." A pause as he comes up with the right word. "Inefficient. At least a pen should have its own ink inside it." He is, apparently, familiar with fountain pens. Also familiar with: "Charcoal. You can use charcoal to write, too. Though it will be messy."

He has a brief, flickering memory of smudged hands and smudged paper and smudged clothes and exasperated anger at having to do laundry again and--

He shakes himself free, confused for a moment.

[firsteditionbfs]

"Yeah, there's definitely charcoal, but that smudges pretty easily, right? Although you'll have to wait for fresh ink to dry on paper, that will at least last a little better-"

Angeal pauses for a second, taking in that sudden little shake. "Are you alright? Get something in your eye?"

[worthallthis]

Bakery. Right. Not... wherever that was.

A memory, he thinks. Which isn't allowed. He doesn't remember, but he knows. He gets punished for remembering. And right now he would really rather not be punished.

So he just ducks his head a little and says, "Malfunction. I am all right now."