After spending thirty years of my life hiding my association with the Enclave [open]

[taediosum]

Who: Arcade (taediosum) & OPEN
What: Arts & crafts (or some long overdue vehicle maintenance)
When: Some activity during the morning stop & early evening 
Where: His truck
Warnings: TBD but nothing likely

Note: I have an opt-in here for Arcade's vital sense ability, please leave a comment if it's something you're interested in coming up here or in future threads! Otherwise, no worries, it just won't work on/around them.



[ Ordinarily, Arcade only looks for salvage of practical things, at the intermittent garage stop. He doesn't know much about vehicle maintenance beyond the basics, and even that's mostly still only in theory. (Luckily, he somehow hasn't had to field a flat tire or an overheating engine, yet.) But he knows plenty about surviving in a post-apocalyptic waste with little to live on, from place to place. He also knows too much about personally handling triage, in those same circumstances. 

So it's really no wonder it's taken him this long to start picking up things that aren't necessarily needed but still... Well, probably should have been considered, at least, a little sooner. (But he's had a whole host of other things to worry about, these past few months, unsurprisingly.)

He's already started a small collection of patchwork canvas, wherever he can find it. It's going to take a while to actually completely enclose the back of the truck, again, so that it can serve as somewhat more suitable shelter - so he'll be around crudely stitching together the various pieces of cover that he's managed to collect, thus far, both in the early morning hours and at night. He's not quite as good at sewing as he is at suturing, and it's kind of obvious.

Or maybe he's trying to flag someone down to lend a hand with actually fitting his makeshift tarp over the top of the truck's trailer— ] Hey, do you have a minute? I could use some help, here.

[ One particular evening, he can also be found with a small collection of old paint cans, painstakingly hunted down in the latest set of ruins. He's set up alongside the truck's cab, eyeing the faded spray paint stenciled logo on the door in front of him - before unceremoniously dashing a swath of old beige paint over it.

Maybe it's because he hasn't made a plan until now to actually get rid of it (despite all the trouble it's already caused), but covering it up feels better than expected. ]

Comments

[taediosum]

[ The silence doesn't immediately alarm him, because Arcade is as much in his own head as the conversation. He's too busy securing another knot to notice - until the next bit of rope slips out of his hands, pulled a little too hard to the other side. ]

Hey—

[ It's reflexive, not accusatory, as he glances around to the other side. ]

Uh, is everything okay over there?

[purplexing]

[He'd started wringing the cloth in his hands, the ends of his claws getting stuck in it when he realizes what he's doing once the man peers around the truck.]

S-sorry! Sorry. Mind wandered.

[taediosum]

...Ah.

[ Yeah, okay. So he's fully giving this kid an anxiety attack. Great. Arcade feels an immediate pang of guilt. (This is why he doesn't talk to people. It never leads to anything good.)

Stepping around the side, he motions for Donnie to hop down again. ]

Come on. Don't worry about it. I... Probably shouldn't have said that. It's really just a theory. And it doesn't mean that kind of thing's going to happen to any of us. [ I hope... ]

[purplexing]

[Getting a bit frustrated, Donnie at least manages to finally get his hand free. He drops down, wings pressing in tightly against his shell as he holds his arms close, like he's trying to compact himself as small as possible.

He looks up at Arcade, wanting very much to believe that...]

...but it's a possibility.

[He's not being pessimistic, and he's not dumb. This world is messed up and they've been pulled into it. But they had to be careful not to be pulled under, and that's the hard part.]