sixthiterationlogs | A village gift (Text post AND log) OTA

Entry tags:

A village gift (Text post AND log) OTA

WHO: Foggy Nelson
WHERE: South Village Inn
WHEN: Jan 10th ish
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None at present

Text post
UN: haventthe

Hey people, Foggy here. I got a couple of those boxes that seem to happen to people and while it's addressed to me, I get the feeling that it's meant for the collective. I've got a bunch of woodworking tools here, including chisels, files, a saw and a hand drill with drill bits.

I'm taking this a hint that they approved of my amateur forays into carpentry and want that to continue, but I want to make sure everyone knows they're welcome to use them. For now, I'm keeping everything at the South Inn, but maybe we can set up one of the houses, or the mill as a workshop at some point.

Even had an idea for making paper from the sawdust and shavings. That's probably going to need experimentation though.

South Village Inn

True to his word, Foggy has set up in the large front room. He's moved a table to a far corner and he's set out the tools, checking them over to see if they're all fine. He does know all these tools, he did high school wood working, but it's been a while.

A long while.

But the main reason for sitting here is so that it's apparent he is here, and the tools are here, and they can work something out for making useful things and teaching people to make useful things.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Matt's making it to the inn quicker and quicker each day, largely thanks to Foggy's help. He's stopped by to grab some lunch, but he can hear the commotion and he comes up to Foggy's temporary new workspace, reaching out with one hand to stop himself from walking into the corner of the table.

Obviously he never spent time on social media at home; it's a very visual platform with photos and messages and the like, and he doesn't spend much time on the network now either, so he didn't realise what was going on.

Foggy spent a few days helping Matt with it, then he went incommunicado for a few days at New Year's to recover from the hangover he gave himself.

When he hears the tapping, he looks up. "Hey... the chairs are all pushed in, you should be able to safely navigate over. I'm in the back corner, I got one of those box things people talk about. Full of woodworking tools I barely know how to use."

The sound of Foggy's voice has Matt lifting his head and eyebrows, smiling in recognition.

"Making Jesus proud?" he jokes as he moves around to the source of Foggy's voice. He's still not a great judge of distance so he stands a little further away than most people would have a comfortable conversation in.

"Are they straightforward at least? Chisels and hammers? Or the kinds of things you've never seen before?"

"Sure. If by proud you mean, I'm trying to wrangle people who know what they're doing because I sure don't. Two steps forward, buddy, and I'll put the back of the chair under your hands."

It's the things he never realised he didn't need to do before.

"Planers. Chisels, soft hammer. A hand drill with some metal bits. Hand saw and some files. Good starter set."

He takes two steps forward, slightly smaller than his usual confident stride though he seems to be working at getting that back, and lets Foggy guide him.

"I'm sure you're starting with just shelves and ornaments for now, but do you think you can make some furniture with all this eventually?" It can't be that hard, right? All that insert A into B type of flatpack self-assembled furnishings makes this kind of thing seem much easier than it really is.

Foggy guides the chair under Matt's hand, so he can feel where it is. "I've already had a request for a bed from Bull. But yeah, I think so, assuming we can get the planks and stuff cut up. This is mostly... smaller stuff. Not the big saw mill style."

He stays ready to help Matt if he needs it, but doesn't make those movements and readiness apparent. "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing in particular. Just that you're really getting stuck in and helping everyone out. It's good." Matt's smile widens as he reaches out to pat Foggy on the shoulder. There's no fumbling or groping around blindly so at least he's gaining some confidence back.

"A bed though. Seems a little ambitious."

"I have no idea what I'm doing, as you well know." He gives a slight smile and shrugs under Matt's hand. "Frankly, I'm not sure how you've stayed sane, not being to fill every moment with working and doing things. I think it's the only thing that keeps me from screaming mindlessly at this place."

He sounds cheerful, so he's probably not serious.

"A few others seem to know what they're doing, so we'll get there."

"Um. It's been... difficult," Matt admits. Especially since the shaken confidence means he's not out and about talking to the locals or getting stuck in helping everyone as best he can. Mostly he's been relearning basic things. He thinks if he's able to navigate his own place without incident he'd be less accident-prone outside. And while there might be some logic to that, it also means he's been cooped up and left to brood on his own far more than would be healthy.

"I'm probably only good for Sunday school at this point and I don't think the local church is hiring," he jokes.

"You've been brooding at home. Possibly by yourself. Am I going to have to institute a rule where I come and drag you outside each day and take you with me? Because I will do that.

"And buddy, you are the church here. If you want to hire you, do it." He sits so their knees are touching, silently orienting Matt to where he is. "Well, once we start with the woodworking stuff, you can actually help. It might only be filing things smooth, but you don't need sight for it."

"I'm- meditating. It's different." Even around Foggy, or maybe especially around Foggy, he's not the world's best liar.

"If I'm the most pious man in this place, we're in trouble." Matt feels like a far cry from a pillar of the church.

"I think I'd rather stick with using the sandpaper. I just need to grind down all the rough surfaces, right?"

"No it's not, I've seen you meditating, it's just brooding with good posture." Which Foggy makes a point of ignoring, slouching a bit more to knock their knees together.

"I didn't say most pious. I don't know that. But I'm not sure how many Catholics we have. And I don't have sandpaper. I have files. Which is the same principle, just not bendy?"

"Objection Your Honour, that's just nitpicking." Matt ducks his head as if it'd hide his sheepish grin. Fine, that's a fair comment, he does spend too much time alone in his own head letting negative thoughts multiply and spiral out of control.

"Not many kids either. And those that are around, it'd be better to teach literacy or math or something that'll help them catch up when they get out of this place." Because Matt's trying to stay hopeful and use 'when's rather than 'if's when it comes to leaving.

"Have you made anything yet?"

"Over ruled, nit picking would be if you were doing anything other than just brooding with good posture." He sways his legs, bouncing their legs together in a show of casual affection.

"In the three hours since I got them? No. Honestly? I don't think the tools were meant for me. I think they were more delivered to me for the village. Or to encourage me to stop bitching about working cutting up carcasses."

"I do do other things when I'm at home," Matt insists. They might be things that involve getting himself self-sufficient enough that he'll never have to leave the house again, but they still count as important tasks.

"I think you got them for a reason." But this is Matt they're talking about. He's big on gifts, signs and symbolism. "You should make the most of them, or at least find someone who can."

"Exercise broodily? Move around the house while lamenting on this being your penance for that time you took an extra serving when you were eleven? Wait photogenically at the window for your love to return from the war?"

Yes, he's teasing Matt. A lot.

"I don't think God delivered them. I think whoever brought us here gave me the ability they did for a reason, but not the tools."

Matt would pretend to be offended if he didn't do two out of those three things. As it is he can't help but just laugh at the ribbing. Yeah, that's fair.

"I never said that. I just meant- they could have showed up anywhere else, and you got them."

"Well, I was complaining about a lack of tools when I made your cane." That seems like some sort of logic or connection there. Maybe. "And I'll probably need to make you a couple of spares, because the wood isn't the toughest thing it could be made of. But you can help with those."

The timing's a little off on that front maybe, but at least they showed up eventually?

"This one you made me will work just fine for a long time yet." Matt hasn't been throwing it around or using it as some sort of weapon. He won't break it anytime soon.

"What's been your strangest request so far?"

"Matt, it's fine, I can make it safe for you to use these things. I can do this... thing. People who arrived wearing this sort of hunter green colour? We can make ourselves sort of armoured? And we can do it to people around us too. I can actually help stop you getting hurt jut by being nearby!"

Which is sort of the fulfilment of a years long wish.

"Nothing strange so far. Though when Bull asked me for a bed, he did basically ask if I wanted to test out the strength of it with him."

Wouldn't Foggy have liked that power back home in New York? Matt has to laugh at the thought. He's got his own go to hell protective bubble but he hasn't been in enough stress to use it, and he wasn't aware that he can just turn it on and off at his leisure now.

"Wow, Foggy. You're really getting along with the locals," Matt teases with a laugh. "You didn't break his heart, did you?"

Foggy would have fucking loved that power in New York.

"I told him not right now, not while I'm sorting out how I feel about here and Marci and stuff. Also, I suspect he's into a level of BDSM that I'm not sure I am, but that was just a subtext."

And there's Anne. But... he's not discussing that in public.

"Oh, that's just- too much information, Foggy," Matt replies quickly with an easy laugh. He's not uncomfortable - if anything he's amused that that topic even came up.

"You know um... I'm probably ruining it between you two now, but. You and Marci made for a great couple." If Foggy knows what Matt's saying.

Foggy is quiet for a long moment.

His knees still tap against Matt's, silence reassurance he's there and not going anywhere.

He has so many things he wants to say. He doesn't want to say them. Time, place, circumstance, them...

"I miss her," is what he settles for.

"Yeah." Matt purses his lips and nods a few times. He understands that sentiment. That simultaneous 'wish you were here with me' but 'I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone' that defines a place like this.

"Not that it'd make you feel any better, but. She's better off back in New York, don't you think?"

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