Scene #9313: Faded Print Chores

Owner	Pose
Father Berislav	A notice is sent out from Father Berislav to the Watchmen and their allies. Hi! It's Father Berislav. I could use some help keeping the Print in ship shape. If you'd like to come over after morning service this Sunday, there'll be a bowl of my chilli in it for you! :fork_knife_plate: When you arrive, Berislav is still in his cassock and stole, hanging in the doorway and seeing off the last of the stragglers from the morning service, waving them off with a smile as they ascend the stairs back onto the street. He sighs a little, watching them go, then ushers you all inside. "Come on in," he says. Removing his white stole to place it upon a hangar, and then stowing that in the burning orange pocket space his hands seem to conjure, he gestures to a few pots on the stove. "Help yourselves, first," he says. "This is going to be hungry work!" For those who haven't had it before, his chilli isn't chilli per se, it's just what the dish is called where he's evidently from. It's more like a soupy meat sauce served with spaghetti, with onions, beans and cheese available as well. Unlike the potluck, Berislav isn't serving it himself, probably because of the risk it'd pose to his remaining priestly garb. "Now," he says, as anyone who's interested helps themselves, "We have our work cut out for us today." Berislav sheds his billowy chasuble in the same fashion he'd stowed the white stole. He gestures with a sweep of his arm to a spread of cleaning supplies, several brand new metal drums, a set of UV lights, a pump, a collapsible rope ladder, an oxygen mask, a power sander, several different safety goggles and gloves for a variety of purposes, and more--there's more home improvement crap in the bar than there is room to stand, broadly speaking. As he then lifts his almost gossamer white alb over his head and stows that, he elaborates. "This old hostel needs a lot of work if it's going to be the seed that cracks the hard earth of the City," Berislav smiles. "If we want other places like this to survive, we need to show the people of District 12's Backstreets that it can be done. Everything here is from the City," he says. "You might even recognize the makers' marks of a Worskhop on the power tools." With the stove having been used to prepare the chilli, the window unit is working overtime to keep the building cool, after having been powered off for the sake of making food on the generator's limited capacity. Berislav's white tee, revealed after he stows his cassock, is damp at the collar and chest with sweat, as is his brow. "So, without further ado," he says, "Let's discuss what the Print needs from us." "The floors in the bar and upstairs need to be sanded and varnished. We don't want anyone getting a splinter, and we certainly don't want to have to replace them if they get warped out of shape. You'll want goggles, gloves and masks for that. Try not to varnish yourself into a corner!" He smiles with a lifted index. "The varnish needs to sit undisturbed for 24 hours after it's applied, so we can save the bar here for after everyone's finished." "Drinking water is a big concern for this District at the moment," he says. "No power means no water, and even those people fortunate enough to have cisterns like ours may not be using them safely. Rain tends to pick up things on the way to becoming rain, and the Lord only knows what the City's rain collects on the way up. I've had a cistern installed and disinfected in the basement. The building's plumbing will be able to draw from it, but it needs some help to be safely potable. Namely, a pump to keep the water moving, some UV lights to keep it sterile, and a filter to catch any sediment, heavy metals, and so on. That's a two-person job--one person does the installation with the oxygen mask, the other keeps them company. Safety first!"
Father Berislav	"Once the cistern's pump and UV lights have been running for an hour or so, I'd like to have these drums filled up. You can just leave them in the basement with the cistern for now, just use one of the hand trucks down there to put them someplace where someone won't stub their toe. The idea is that we'll have a stockpile of clean water for the District in excess of the cistern's capacity, in case we hit a dry season." "The burners and drip bowls on the stove... have seen better days, and need to be replaced," he says. "Let's wait until everyone who's going to eat has eaten before we do that. The oven also needs to be cleaned, and the counters in the kitchen could do with a scrubdown. In fact, once everyone's eaten, let me know and I'll put away any leftovers and clean up the dishes." "The bathrooms in the lodgings upstairs need to be cleaned, too," he says, both palms held up with an ameliorating smile. "Don't worry, it's not a horror show, I promise. The tiles for the showers need to be scrubbed and the sinks have some rust stains. Just think about what you'd want to see if you had to stay away from home for a while." "You'll notice some of the windows are still boarded up," Berislav says, gesturing to one on this very floor that still is. "A friend of a friend managed to get us some replacement panes, so I'll be removing those boards and replacing any broken windows." "Finally, the roof." The little frown on his face says this one's going to be a bitch, even if he'd never say that out loud. "There's a leak, and fixing it won't be a simple matter of maintenance because of the building's age. Back when it was a news agency, it was a tar-and-gravel roof. When it became a bar and later a hostel, the owners back then didn't see much point in doing otherwise, because it would've been the least expensive option." "It isn't a good option for us to redo it that way, even if it would be cheaper. The fumes would be bad even for people around the building, much less for anyone roofing it. It's also dangerous to handle, and makes it harder to deal with the summer heat which is just around the corner." "I'd hoped to get a professional out here for an assessment, but every one in the area I spoke to was booked out past the summer," he says. "Fortunately, one of them did put me in contact with a supplier, and I was able to get a good deal on a pallet of liquid roof." He gestures to the pallet, full of knee-high plastic buckets. "Whoever's going to go up there is going to have two things to do--first, you'll want to get a shovel and break apart the old tar and gravel, get it all the way off the roof. Just make sure you're not dumping it on anyone's head who happens to be passing by. Then you're going to take some gloves, some eyewear and a roller and..." he pantomimes rolling the fluid with a little lopsided smile. "I'll be up there to help you after I finish with the dishes and the windows." "Any questions?"
Angela	Sonia still hasn't returned from his business--though to be fair his group is Citywide so he can't really be stuck in Distrit 12 the whole time. But Jack mentioned he's sending a 'new Yurodiviye member along with the brats' so there's that. Naturally, the Blade Lineage has no trouble tending to chores though both Kim and Aeng-du are out today and Saya sent a text she wasn't feeling well (She hasn't been showing up much lately). Kuwaba is excitedly holding a pot over his head and collecting all the water leaking down from the leaky roof. He is grinning the whole time. Yuri, now sporting an eyepatch, walks on in wearing a Yurodiviye uniform--she still has Frost Splinter on her even if she's only carrying the weapon right now. She looks a bit tense all the same. Trailing behind her are Chance and Gamble who immediately make faces at the idea of doing chores. "Uh hey. Yuri here. Heh. Yuridiviye." She smiles bitterly before adding, "Sonia offered me a job but I figured he just wanted me helping you guys out so ... Chores huh?" Yuri is from a Wing so she's more accustomed to having people do her chores for her but after working at Lobotomy Corp, all these chores seem pretty basic to her. At least there isn't blood leaking everywhere or strange unidentifiable smells and the creaking dead that a monster can just drop down and kill you or, worse, management might just decide you're the expendable life today. "Wonder if they're actually booked or if they just don't want to come to District 12 right now." But does she really have any questions? "Y'all sure you're fine to have me lending a hand here?"
Odette Raskins	On one hand, today's a rare quiet weekend for Odette, and she could be catching up on everything she hasn't over the past few weeks. On the other hand, joining everyone at the Print would be a good chance to get to know people better outside the context of a job and without putting her neck on the line or worrying about anyone dying. Plus, the food at the potluck WAS pretty good... Berislav's notice wins out over lazing about, and Odette arrives in clothes that are actually appropriate for doing working and eating chili: a faded black hoodie with extra long sleeves and one working zipper between the two giant pockets, dark jeans with some light wear and tear here and there, and thick boots that look almost as old as Odette. She greets Berislav with a quick wave and smile, reshouldering her workshop-purchased carrying case once before remembering that it's actually light and small enough that she (mostly) doesn't need to do that. "Smelled great even from outside, Father Bersilav... It kind of reminds me of this one dish the fol-uh. People back home used to make with shrimp and diced carrots and a whole bunch of other stuff... Thanks for the meal!" She's not shy about getting some of that food, but she's also patient about digging in. Good manners means, as one of the earleir arrivals, Odette gets right to work serving that chili up, moving like she's done this sort of thing a hundred times before. Eating while listening, Odette considers all the different tasks and tools present for said tasks. Some of the markings are even familiar from the last time she had seen them at the big fair! "If they see it's all been done with local stuff and plenty of elbow grease without any powers or even materials from outside... I see what you're getting at...!" Nodding excitedly, she's already getting pumped up even though she's done nothing but serve food and eat so far. The various tasks all get roughly the same amount of nodding and peering at the tools, although Odette does look somewhat uncomfortable when Berislav speaks about the water pumps. "I could help out with whatever, although I guess I'd probably be better suited for cleaning than roofing or part replacement. Mm.. Maybe?" She half-suggests with a questioning hum. "I've done plenty of heavy-duty cleaning back home and in rooms here and there, but I'd be pretty worried if anyone with bad balance was on the roof, too. Ah.. I do have some painkillers if anyone falls off, though!" "Yuri here. Heh. Yuridiviye." Snickering lightly at Yuri's bit of wordplay, Odette settles into a more sympathetic smile as she looks over towards her new fit with the eyepatch and uniform. Chance and Gamble get more relaxed smile from her, too, along with a light wave in greeting. "Chores. It's nothing glamorous, but even little details like that can be important to handle to make sure everything feel right to live and work in. Plus, it can be pretty therapeutic compared to doing high-intensity stuff all the time. The more hands, the better, right?"
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel is on bathroom duty. All of her is. Three shadows spring from her, doing the slow work of scrubbing away ath the ground: two of them handle the mops, and one of her handles the buckets, while the real deal focused on the sinks. She wore a tank-top, and a pair of loose, cheap shorts she didn't much mind getting messy. with her hair pulled back in a ribbon behind her, out of her way. "I mean...You had a bomb in your eye?" Tamiel said to Yuri, during a break, leaning against the wall. She didn't look all that tired. "If you'd joined them all on your own, just to get some of the stuff, that would be one thing...? But. Even though you could have just chosen to die. I don't think most people begrudge a desire to live...?" "It's one of the things that might get my teacher to stop an execu--." One of her shadows opened a door right into the other's face, and Tamiel raised a hand to her nose--as did all of her shadows. "I'm okay--I'm fine--" When her vision swam back into focus, she shook her head sharply and clapped hands against her cheeks. "Ouuf. We're--I'm getting through the bathrooms." She looks to Odette. "I could use some help, if you want..."
Veronica	"Whoever's going to go up there is going to have two things to do--first, you'll want to get a shovel and break apart the old tar and gravel, get it all the way off the roof. Just make sure you're not dumping it on anyone's head who happens to be passing by." Veronica raises a hand, already halfway through her chili by the time Berislav's explained every task. "I'll handle the roof, I guess? Have we got a dumpster I can push stuff into from up top, or am I gonna have to use buckets?" She ends that sentence with a tone suggesting she really doesn't want to use buckets. "Anyway, this chili is nice. Ever tried different noodles, though? I bet this'd be good with macaroni, they'd catch the sauce an' all. Where'd you get the recipe?"
Odette Raskins	"I could use some help, if you want..." Watching Tamiel and her shadows reacting to each other's impacts is somewhat amusing to to Odette at first, but then she starts feeling a little guilty when that includes hitting each other with doors. The guilt trip practically makes itself! "Oh! Sure thing, Miss Tamiel. I have to say, it's kind of..." She needs a moment to figure out a better word, but it doesn't come to her. "Like... Not what most people would expect to see? Seeing you working here in the muck like this." She giggles briefly, then hastily adds, "Not that that's bad or anything! Just surprising, is all. All the angels in the books and stuff usually have this... Super clean aura around them, you know?"
Father Berislav	Chores, huh? "Chores," says Berislav with a beatific smile that would have Lilian calling him a pervert. "I'd be as delighted to have your help as I am to see you, Yuri," he adds. "And don't think of it only as a project. This place is as much for you as anyone else in this district, so you're welcome to come here when you need a place to stay or a hot meal, too." Wonder if they're actually booked or if they just don't want to come to District 12 right now. "A little of both," Berislav sighs, nodding. "There's a lot of demand for repairs--the area close to the Nest was hit especially hard, as you know. But as you also know, some people have taken the District's hardship as their sign to pillage. Some of the people I spoke with seemed to freeze up when I mentioned where the building was." He frowns, but the expression is soon replaced with one of gentle determination rather than disappointment. "It's up to us to help with both, as best we can." Thanks for the meal! "You're welcome, Odette," beams Berislav. "Seeing you enjoy it is a treat in itself." "I think you'd be suited to the roof, too," he agrees when the topic comes up. "Someone brought by some plastic buckets the other day, Veronica--but don't worry about taking them down, I'll handle that part, as long as you and Odette can get everything into them." Where'd you get the recipe? "Oh, it's a family recipe," Berislav says conversationally. He pauses, then cups one hand over his mouth to call upstairs to Tamiel's shadows, unaware that he doesn't have to do that. "The third door down is a little swollen! If you can't get it open just lift it a little in the frame." Clearing his throat, "My mother learned it from her mother, and so on. Everybody from our state has their own version of it. We call it chilli, but it isn't, really--you probably noticed the sauce is a lot thinner than what most people call chilli. And of course, that's why we have the spaghetti there, instead of something that'd soak it up." With a little laugh, "I don't know who the first person was to call it that, you know--'Cincinnati style chilli'--but it stuck." "Anyway," he says, "Let me bring those buckets up there for you." He disappears outside after a brisk little walk and returns with a slew of plastic buckets (deep ones, thankfully) balanced by their handles on a length of plumbing suitable only as a pole at this point in its life cycle. In his tank top and black pants, he looks like the intersection of a musical about the inner city and an old martial arts movie carrying them up the stairs like that, especially when he lifts it and twirls it to balance it on one shoulder and fit through the stairwell. Returning downstairs, he sets the length of pipe down in the corner, heads behind the bar, and begins putting away the leftovers in cheery little tupperwares yet to have developed any battle scars. "Yuri," he says, looking over his shoulder from the fridge. "There should be a yellow toolbox in the middle of the floor there. Would you mind getting the claw hammer from there and removing the boards from the windows while I clean the dishes here?"
Angela	Yuri did in fact have a bomb in her eye. "You heard about that?" She asks of Tamiel. "--But, uh--I wasn't thinking that would be the hold up actually. If it doesn't bother you people I don't see any reason to dredge it up though." Chores, confirms. Like a pervert. She exhales slowly and looks away for a moment after Berislav mentions this place is for her as much as anyone else. She's grown a little suspicious of largesse but she isn't going to complain about it. "Whenever a Wing falls, it goes like this for a while, and this was an especially big fall. Normally power isn't out for months. Normally a Syndicate or Association pushes in quick and establishes a kind of Order. Sometimes when a Wing falls, it's almost peaceful and a relief. I guess this is what she expected, but I wonder why she wanted it." It's too beyond her to suspect what the Purple Tear might be actually hoping for, but she can't just say it's outside of her reach or something she can't think about anymore. ''TThere should be a yellow toolbox...'' "Not at all--" Yuri says, turning to make her way to the toolbox, aiming to draw out the claw hammer. "Haven't pried window boards out before." She tries to work on those nails. "Doin' this right?"
Veronica	Veronica nods along with Berislav's account of the recipe's history. "Good thing to keep in the family. Food makes a family, my uncle liked to say." Slurping down the last of the sauce, she sets down her bowl, wipes her mouth with a napkin, and takes off her leather vest to set it on a chair. Notably, the 'wings' on her vest (in fact a design of densely clustered hands in the shape of a pair of wings) fade from the leather and reappear printed on the back of her tank top. "I guess this is what she expected, but I wonder why she wanted it." Veronica's halfway up the stairs after Berislav when she hears Yuri's musing and stops dead. "Who's 'she'? You know something I don't about how the Wing fell?"
Tamiel Luxis	Odette's giggling doesn't seem to get to Tamiel at all. "It's a lot of reputation to maintain..." She mused. "It's a little easier, for people who want to look up at us, as some kind of idea to chase..." "I don't like spending too much time around those kinds of people." She said, scraping at some rust that had collected along a faucet. "It's impossible NOT to let them down, you know? Everyone looks like this, eventually..." Her shrug is almost an apology in of itself. "Mom says, it's important to be a symbol that people can aspire to." She says, tilting her head to one side, then the other. "...But my teacher says, that kind of thinking...just takes us further away from the people we're supposed to protect." "I don't know which way is right...But I'm better at my teacher's." She said that, but she didn't look tired at all, and those wing-shards of hers still glowed, creating an iridescent backlight even while wiping down a sink. "You heard about that?" "I was there?" She shrugged. "I was focused on opening the safe, but...The surgery was hard to miss." She was glad that Odette had used her method of fixing it. Tamiel's would have probably messed Yuri up even more...If she'd even accepted it. "I know I didn't make a big impression--I was part of the team taking things down from the roof. By the time we reached your level, the fight was just about over." "And anyway...I'm supposed to be good at knowing things."
Angela	Yuri glances to Veronica. "How it fell? I wasn't there--I was in that cell by the time it fell--but I knew it was warned about it." Her eyes slant to Berislav for a moment before turning back tro her work. "She told me enough. And I'm not gonna say who 'she' is. I shouldn't have mentioned her to begin with." She frowns. "Suffice it to say it's not anybody you want the attention of. And if I tell you, her attention'll be on you." She slows in her work long enough to glance to Tamiel, "Oh yeah I remember now. By the time you were there I wasn't exactly thinking about what I was seeing." She turns back to her work. "...Anyway, my best friend died in the facility so I'm no fan of L-Corp but if you want to solve a mystery I'm not the girl to go to."
Veronica	Veronica narrows her eyes at Yuri's answer, but after a moment she turns to continue up the stairs, saying nothing. She knows well enough there are powers in the City whose attentions work that way, and whose attentions are best kept far away from Firefly Dam. "Yeah," she says, half to Yuri and half to herself, "a lotta people've lost somebody to L Corp, one way or another." Up on the roof, she picks up a shovel, does her best job scooping up two or three shovelfuls of the old roofing material... then gets bored and sets her shovel down. She lights a cigarette, holding it in her flesh hand while her concrete left arm hums with the residual power of her EGO. Moments later the tarred gravel is pushing itself around the roof, clumping up into little piles that lift, one by one, into the buckets. It still takes some effort, a bit of Veronica's concentration, and it might be a little slower than peak manual efficiency, but it beats lifting a shovel. Besides, it lets her have a smoke while she works.
Odette Raskins	"Normally a Syndicate or Association pushes in quick and establishes a kind of Order." "I guess this is what she expected, but I wonder why she wanted it." "That makes sense. If someone can establish themselves as the ones to save a place after such a big event, then everyone starts looking up to them, and then..." Odette slows down as she realizes what this might imply about her other job. Third job? She taps her chin lightly a moment later. "This is all pretty new territory for plenty of people, then. Good chance to show everyone it's possible if we do it without ever becoming an official Association, though..." "Seeing you enjoy it is a treat in itself." "Everybody from our state has their own version of it." "I hear that's how it usually ends up, yeah. Might not be traditional, but it's still good!" Odette is sorely tempted to go back for seconds, but she behaves for now. There might be time for more after all the work is done, after all. "Your chili, mom and dad's mapo tofu, that one place I went to with the orange cheese pizza..." She really needs to get her mind off food before she gets hungry again, but the damage is already being done. Luckily, there's work to be done, and putting some real elbow grease into it is the best way for Odette to get her mind off that. Plus, there's plenty of things she wants to ask Tamiel, and this is the perfect time to do it! "It's a little easier... It's impossible NOT to..." "I think I get it... The more they see you, the more chances they have to see the real you instead of their headcanon of you." Odette comments while offering Tamiel an extra mask so she doesn't get all that floating rust in her lungs. Realizing her flub moments later, the EMT clears her throat a bit while straightening her own mask out. "Er. I mean. Their own... Ideas of you. It does sound kind of crummy to have all those expectations on you, yeah. Espeically if it's something you can't really... Maintain?" Odette chuckles awkwardly a moment later, and she rubs her neck before quickly drawing her hand away and spraying some of the cleaner directly on her neck. "And if the people you're trying to be more like isn't anything like what the peoplewatching you want you to be like... Mmn. I don't know if my parents would really approve of half the people I'm spending time with these days, either." "Mom says... supposed to protect." "It's not bad to be a role model, but... I mean, I guess it depends on if you're trying to be one? No, that's not it. It's... I guess it's not bad to be someone can look at as an example of what to be like, but it shouldn't be your job? But then if you have a lot of people looking at you, it kind of becomes a responsibility to not let them think doing bad things is okay..." Odette groans, reaching up briefly before stopping herself from running her gloves and already filthy hand through her hair. "I think your teacher's got the right of it, yes. Focusing on who we want to protect instead of everyone's way better. Easier, too." She laughs after a moment, then gawks at Tamiel's glowing backlight for a moment before getting back to working on the toilets. "Is there anyone you want to protect? Not just 'supposed to', but want to?"
Father Berislav	"Yes, Yuri, dig the claw in and use the hammer as a fulcrum, just like that," Berislav assures Yuri. "You can pull straight out if the fit isn't too tight. Otherwise, try it sideways. If the wood is too stubborn for you to get the claw under the head," he says, pantomiming the motion, "There's a crowbar somewhere around here--let me know if you need that, though! I'd rather you have safety glasses if it comes to that. Some of those planks are very old and very dry by now." Berislav puts away the last of the leftovers and begins the simple but tedious task of cleaning the several pots used for his chilli. Starting with the largest, which he used to make the sauce, he hefts them into the sink, applies a generous portion of dish soap and then a much more measured portion of hot water. Big one down, onto the next biggest, with another helping of dish soap and another conservative splash of hot water. This one is a little more stubborn, with noodles sticking to the bottom. Suffice it to say it's not anybody you want the attention of. And if I tell you, her attention'll be on you. Berislav 'hms' softly, just barely audible above the splashing and scrubbing sounds of his work at the sink, having just scoured the last residual noodle residue from the second biggest. Looking over his shoulder again at Yuri, "You said that you wanted to live without being crushed by the gears of the City." "Did you join the Yurodiviye to stop them from turning?" He returns his attention to the pots. The last two are scrubbed and set upside down on a little wire rack to dry. The onions and beans weren't nearly so intractible as the sauce and the noodles. He joins Yuri in un-boarding the windows. "That's good," he notes of her technique. "Just like that." "I'd like to see them smashed," he says, emphasizing the word with gentle leverage from his own claw hammer. The creaking of the nail belies the seeming ease with which he pulls it--it must have been in there good. "And I don't believe we can do that by using the tools of those who built them to begin with." He makes a brief trip upstairs grabbing the pipe from before, smiling at Odette and Tamiel on his way to the ceiling. "I appreciate you helping," he says to Veronica, slipping the pole through filled buckets and hefting them without trouble despite the way the plastic sags at the hinge and the metal creaks. "I know this isn't thrilling work, but it is valuable. Summer's around the corner, and lots of people who depend on us will have a cool place to rest thanks to you." Adjusting the pipe one-handed to fit the assembly down the stairwell, he passes Yuri on his way outside and gently slides them off the pole, dumping each into a dented trash can.
Tamiel Luxis	"But then if you have a lot of people looking at you, it kind of becomes a responsibility to not let them think doing bad things is okay..." "...And when people were looking up at you from the start..." Tamiel builds on Odette's statement. "...Using you as their reason to try to be better..." She trails off, leaving the rest hanging in the air. "...It's not like she's wrong." "Is there anyone you want to protect? Not just 'supposed to', but want to?" The question kind of takes Tamiel off guard, "Aside from everyone...?" "It's...Hard not to, you know? I can hear them..." Tamiel's gaze turned toward what was DEFINITELY a solid wall. "People calling for help...Desperate, praying for something to change. To help them..." "I don't know how you can hear that and not need to do...Something." Her wings quiver, shrinking against her back. "I don't think I have anything more meaningful than that...I'm sorry."
Veronica	"I appreciate you helping. I know this isn't thrilling work, but it is valuable." Earth to Veronica! After a pause, Veronica shakes her head a little to dislodge whatever thoughts had her occupied. "Yeah, you're welcome. It's only fair, if y'all are gonna help my town, I should scratch your backs too." Another pause, shorter this time, just long enough for a short puff on a cigarette. "Hey, Father Waters," she says at last, "How'd you end up in this line of work? You're a preacher man but you've got augments like a big-time Office or Wing agent. Is that normal for, uh, Cincinnati?"
Angela	When Veronica continues up the stairs and is well out of sight, the air around Yuri gets a little colder and she looks, for a moment, like she just might punch the wooden planks off instead of prying them off with the hammer but ultimately she swallows whatever she's feeling and does the work normal like. That arm keeps lingering on her mind as well but in truth she's not sure what it is. A Corroding EGO? One of those distortions she's hearing about? She's not sure but she knows why she's with the Watch. "I know plenty of Watch folk were helping at LobCorp. I'm not betraying the ones they left behind again, but she's gonna find out y'all were involved too at some point. I don't know which of you were there in the final days, but I know you had ''some''." She pries the last plank free--almost spitefully. Of course. What could she have done to fix things? Make things better? Should she have just said no? If she can figure out what she should have done, maybe she can figure out who she should be and forge herself into that. Odette suggests that it's also inevitable for people to forge communities like Trideag and this Watch alliance and Yuri nods, but she's not sure why they'd do that either. She glances towards Berislav and gives him a nod too. And then she sighs. "....Nah, it's fine. I might as well learn how to use this tool properly. I've got a feeling I'm gonna need to a lot in the future." ''Did you join the Yurodiviye to stop them from turning?'' "Depends what you mean by that, probably." She says. "What DO you mean by that."
Odette Raskins	Odette gives Berislav a quick wave on his way up to the roof! She's sweating and her outfit looks kind of gross, but she knows what she was getting into. She seems pretty pleased, anyway! "It's not like she's wrong." She also continues to look conflicted even though she's having trouble putting her thoughts into words quickly. She doesn't try doing that, either, instead just trying to muddle through it as she continues speaking with Tamiel. "No.. She's not wrong. But it's also kind of... Like. Not fair? I mean, yeah, you shouldn't do bad things, and people learning how to do bad things by watching is..." It's so tempting to rub her head, but she needs to keep her head relatively clean. ".. It's just not fair for you to have to always be on your best behavior just because other people are looking." "Aside from everyone...?" "People calling for help..." Despite Tamiel's apology, Odette visibly relaxes as she hears her explanation. "I get it, mhm. I don't really... I mean, I CAN hear people calling for help, but only when they're close enough to hear, or when it's through the radio. It sucks to see people getting hurt with nobody around to help them, too, so..." There's a long pause as Odette focuses on digging out a particularly stubborn stain. She also lets her mind wander a bit to her past, then coughs lightly while trying to dismiss her moment of reminiscing. ""...That's why I got into this work." She laughs lightly again, then realizes her medical bag isn't actually around. "Um. The EMT stuff, I mean. So.. I guess we're kind of alike there?" Another laugh, and then she nearly scratches her cheek. "... I think it's really cool that you're doing all this. Especially this."
Tamiel Luxis	"It's just not fair for you to have to always be on your best behavior..." "You know what's also not fair..." The rust on this sink was finally starting to fade away. The shadows, meanwhile, were finally starting to clean up everything else. "...I got to be born an angel. I mean...You've seen some of it. I can do a lot of things, other people can't..." "...And sure, I had to learn. And I had to try. But. A lot of people, never got the chance to learn, or try. But I did." She finds herself looking into the mirror, now, a freckled face framed by a halo. "...So. How can I complain about what's 'fair?' I can't." She was born in a floating city, high above the world, literally blessed and holy from her first breath. "I just think..." She wipes at a discolored bit of mirror until it shined. "...This is the least I can do, isn't it...?"
Father Berislav	Is that normal for, uh, Cincinnatti? "No," says the priest between a little laughter. "Not at all." On the return trip back up, he deposits the freshly-emptied buckets on scraped-clean patch of roof, and leans on the pole, watching afternoon in the Backstreets play out across the limited view of the skyline from the Print's roof. "The Cinccinnatti I'm from has no Fixers, no EGO weapons, no Abnormalities or Distortions or Stars of the City. Our great struggles are all firmly in the past, and the work of the present is tending to the scars of those days. Compared to the City," he sighs, turning his attention back to Veronica, "It's paradise. I'm sure people on other worlds would even say the same--a place that's fortunate enough to be a Commonwealth member which contributes to aid more than it asks." "So," he continues, gesturing with a slight dip of the pipe he leans upon, "When we Unified, there was, of course, the period of wonder and speculation. Discussions sprung up everywhere about what it meant for virtually every science, religion and philosophy. The creative spirit ignited, the inner child sat alert and attentive for stories of heroism." "I was fresh out of seminary school when that happened," he reminisces, his eyes staring past Veronica at a distant point on the disaster-hardened horizon. "Old enough to know that our Earth's colonies out in the stars fell farther and farther from 'paradise' the farther out you traveled from Earth." "I suppose I 'got into' this line of work when I requested a sabbatical--that's a kind of a leave to go traveling--from my diocese." He pauses, then clarifies again, "A... regional branch of my church. I'd always felt a certain disillusionment with the way life was, out there. When I learned that many worlds out in the Multiverse were..." Berislav bites his lip and searches for the words. "Just as difficult to live on, and that many were worse, I felt shocked. To me," he says, returning his attention to Veronica, free hand on his chest, "Based on the way I was raised, and the religion I follow, that kind of iniquity is something that the people in charge should consider a disgrace. Something that should be fixed immediately, and all the people affected by it made whole at once." "That so many out there were living in poverty, squalor, under repressive regimes, made to turn against their neighbors out of desperation or systemic deception and abuse, it demanded an answer. Either all of that was wrong, or God was, and I think you can guess which one I decided on," he says with a faint smile. "Not to say that this," he says, tracing the scars of a scalpel along the underside of his bicep, "Or anything else I do, happened overnight. I got my start doing this sort of work," he says, tapping the pipe against the roof. "Introducing communities to each other, too. Building little support networks to survive abusive environments. Back then, I assumed that things like... Wings, and Offices, and Syndicates and what have you, didn't know how their actions created places like the Backstreets and affected the people in them." "Finding out that they very much did, and preferred it that way, almost cost me my life," he adds after a hard, long stare towards the old center of this District's power, where the tower now looms. "So," he says with a little sigh, "I suppose that's 'how." His silver eyes meet Veronica's, a wan smile adding a sad sort of warmth. "I came to learn after a workers' revolt that fixing these things is as much about destroying evil as it is about nurturing good. Everything you've observed about what I can do is a compromise I've made with my love of peace in the interest of my need for justice." He lets that thought rest for a few seconds, then breathes deeply through his nose. "Now!" he says, cheerily like a parent who's just told a story. "Cigarettes can dehydrate you, and it's certainly getting hotter. Would you like me to bring you some water when I come back up for the buckets again?"
Father Berislav	After that's settled, he's back in, and Yuri has made enough progress on the windows for him to start replacing window panes. He's pretty good at it, patient and exacting--he must have done it plenty of times before. "If you wanted only to have a better life, there are worlds that could give it to you and people who would fight for you to escape this one," he says. "But you didn't, and you also didn't decide to enrich yourself on the bones. Not everyone who joins the Yurodiviye does it because they want the City to be unrecognizable, per se," he says. "Lots do because they just want it to be more livable. But I do remember that you responded positively to Petra saying she'd make it that way--unrecognizable--so I thought I'd ask."
Angela	''But I do remember you responded positively to Petra saying she'd make it that way--unrecognizable--so I thought I'd ask.'' "...This City killed Cinder. It wasn't LobCorp, really, it wasn't the Abnormality or Ayin or anyone. It was The City. When I met her, she had ''fire''..." For a moment, even Yuri's eye seems to blaze despite the frost around it. "When I met her, she was the type to jump a bully and BEAT them to protect what she thought was important. She was ... She was ''my'' hero. And then you know what happened?" Yuri doesn't wait too long to finish that rhetorical question as she rips out a nail with the hammer. "Nothing." She rips the board free. "Nothing dramatic happened. Just normal City life wore her down. She saw boring City horrors and just being brave and fierce wasn't enough to do anything about it. By the time she joined Lobcorp she was a ''Clerk''. If it wasn't for Petra, that would have been it. Just worn down to nothing." And then she smiles. "Then she met Petra. And that reignited something in her. She never quite got back to the kind of woman she used to be but she was ''alive'' again, enjoying herself. Because Petra? She is a hero. And I don't mean in the sense that she's more moral than anyone. No, she's a hero because she ''does things''. With her own two hands, however brutally, and she pushes to change things. If she can't change this City, I don't think anyone can. Not even the Dame Commander because she--she's going to fix things. But someone needs to break it all first. There's a ton of people in this world out to fix things but in the end inertia just slides everything back to its banal boring place." She lowers her hammer, staring at the next plank she has to work on. "...Breaking stuff is ugly. And maybe the hero doesn't make it all the way through or maybe there's too much blood on them at the end to really see them the same way. When I ask what you mean by that, like, yeah. I want The City to be unrecognizable. I don't think the aid you're putting out here is bad or anything, you're helping people shepherd through it all. And that's good. And I want to help that. But in the end I think community and the promise of heaven will only do so much. Maybe that's the 'ark' that will get us through it all in the end. But I figure it's the ''Flood'' that will ultimately change the future. Because The City has to learn down to its soul that the way it was cannot be the way it can ever be again." She pulls free the last plank and tosses it down with the rest. "Does that answer your question?"
Odette Raskins	"How can I complain about what's 'fair?'" "You got a whole bunch of stuff others didn't, that's for sure... But everyone kind of gets something, you know?" Odette answers, still weighing her words carefully while working on the stall. After all that scrubbing and spraying on of various chemicals, the toilet is finally clean inside and out! No rust, no hard water, no ????, just a clean and private space that won't make anyone fear getting tetanus anymore. "Maybe it's not.. Like... I mean, if I had to choose between being kind of invisible compared to way cooler people or being way cooler, I'd totally pick what you got instead. But..." She's flubbing it, and she knows it. Searching her brain for better ways to get her point across, Odette takes a moment to actually think it over while she moves on to the next toilet. "Maybe this is the least you could do, but even your least right now is still way more than what a bunch of other people are doing." She gestures around the bathroom, then towards the door. "I haven't seen any other angels around here ever since we started... Um. Everything here? None in here, none in Trideag, none in.. Um. I think you're the first I've seen period, even." "I.. I think you should be kinder to yourself, Miss Tamiel."
Veronica	"When we Unified, there was, of course, the period of wonder and speculation. Discussions sprung up everywhere about what it meant for virtually every science, religion and philosophy. The creative spirit ignited, the inner child sat alert and attentive for stories of heroism." Veronica chuckles. "'Of course'? That hardly happened here. I couldn't tell you exactly how long it's been since the City 'unified', and I doubt many people could. First time it started matterin' was, well, when you lot showed up." Still, she listens to the rest of Berislav's tale with interest. "Really, I woulda guessed you'd started as something like a Wing agent and then found religion and turned things around. How's the church feel about what you do? Do they know, or are you still on 'sabbatical'?" "Cigarettes can dehydrate you, and it's certainly getting hotter. Would you like me to bring you some water when I come back up for the buckets again?" "Yeah, it's a bad habit, but you know," Veronica says, ending her sentence with a noncommital shrug. "Some water'd be nice, though. Thanks." By the time Berislav chats with Yuri and comes back up, Veronica's filled the last of the buckets and started with the liquid roofing. She's stubbed out her cigarette somewhere and started moving around now, walking next to the telekinetically controlled roller to make sure the coat's going on evenly.
Father Berislav	Does that answer your question? Berislav carefully picks apart the crumbling moulding with a putty knife. "Not only does it answer my question," he says, then diligently scraping old putty off with the same tool, "It makes me very happy to hear." "I'm so sorry about Cinder," he says. "Genuinely. She sounded like an amazing woman--and I know she brought out the best in Petra just as much as Petra brought out the best parts of her. I wish I'd gotten to know her better," continues Berislav, carefully applying an X of masking tape over a cracked pane and leaving it be to move on to the next window. "This," he says, gently tapping the window gently with his putty knife, "Is not the ark. It's part of the hull, and without it, you're right that many will drown--but there are more parts to a ship than only the hull. It should have a rudder and a helm to guide it, a bilge to keep it upright, a deck to see from and a way to get to shore." "But, I do ultimately agree with you. An ark without a flood is a useless thing. That's why when the ark is built," he says, scraping a piece of moulding with particular emphasis, "I don't intend to give the City's abusers time to wonder what it's for." "I hope that explains why I'm pleased with your answer," he says, placing another tape-X on two panes and moving on to the next window. In time, all the windows are thusly scraped and taped, and Berislav moves outside to do them from the other side, then gently breaking the cracked panes fully to remove them in held-together little squares. He takes a break then to bring cool bottled waters to everyone, starting on the bar's floor with Yuri and then moving up to offer one each to Odette and Tamiel, stopping on the roof with Veronica to pick up any full buckets. How's the church feel about what you do? "They know," says Berislav, handing Veronica her water. "I'm something of a public figure," he adds with a wry smile. "With a reputation that the Episcopal Church would describe as 'conduct unbecoming a member of the clergy.' And even if I weren't, I've been absent from my diocese for unacceptably long without the consent of my bishop. According to the church, I've been dismissed from the clergy." "But, I don't care. That doesn't change what I believe. What I say in my services, what I read from the Bible, even the Bible itself, those aren't the Word; they're words about God. Christ is the Word." "That's good work," he says to her. "And good work with liquid roof, too! Take a break if you need to. I'll see if Tamiel can send up one or two of her shadows to make it go a little quicker." Just as Berislav had advised anyone working on the bathrooms, it's not a horror show. The limescale on the shower tiles is more stubborn than the rust stains in the sinks and toilets, but with the cleaning compound Berislav provided, eventually both come off. The latter wipes away leaving spotless white porcelain in its wake, and the former comes off in oddly satisfying little scales. "How's it going up here, you... five," Berislav laughingly asks, on his way back down. "Oh! That looks excellent," he says. "Good job! Take a break if you'd like, we're making very good progress. When you're ready, I'd like you two to set up the filtration and UV systems. It's fairly plug-and-play," he says, "But I'd still like whoever's in the cistern wearing an oxygen mask. Also, Tamiel," he says, "Veronica's just about finished with the roof. If you could send your... friends (?)," his brow lifts with the intonation-implied question, "Up there with some rollers to help her apply the liquid roof, we'll really make fantastic progress. It should be much easier than getting it off." "When you're finished, I expect I'll be finished with the windows and sanding the floor, and we can all cool off in the bar and the..." He waves his hands with a theatrical flair. "AC! And I'll whip up something sweet as a thank-you and a little celebration."
Father Berislav	And--after all but the varnish has been done, that's exactly what he offers, in the newly sanded and re-windowed bar, with window unit proudly blowing cool air through and not a leak in sight to slow it down. Out from the freezer, he pulls not only a tub of ice cream but some waffle cones he'd been chilling there as well, with melted candy around the rims, re-frozen to form a colorful shell on the outside. Berislav thanks everyone not only with this surprise, but with his words, too. All that remains is to varnish the floor in the bar and to dispense water from the cistern into the barrels Berislav eventually moves into the basement--which both proceed without incident, marking the end of a productive and informative day at the Print.