[OPEN][BACKDATED] Stitch me back, one by one!

[chronomancer]

Characters: Jade!Eridan Ampora, and YOU!
Setting: Floor 15, the workshop.
Format: I'll start with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: In which Eridan pretends he knows how to sew. Spoilers, he doesn't. Backdated to before the Labyrinth event!
Warning: None? I'll add if necessary.

[It's really not that hard, he figures, to use his torn jacket as a pattern and make a new one with some scraps of red fabric lying around. It's just. Cutting fabric and sewing it together. How hard can it be?

Apparently, very hard and not really a project for the uninitiated.

He's left the whole mess on a workbench for now, focusing on patching up his other pair of pants. That, at least, he's relatively used to. It's not the neatest of stitch-work, but at least it'll hold.

At least, he thinks with grim amusement, he has two hands now, to do this. Otherwise it'd be well and truly hopeless.]

Comments

[mutab1e]

[The expression snaps cleanly off his face as he looks up at Eridan in confusion, but then seems to understand what he's getting at and looks down again.] ...Maybe.

[chronomancer]

[He looks down at his claws himself, with a little shrug. It's not a shy gesture, per se. More like a little tired. Or maybe like he's letting you see how tired he really is. Either or, it's hard to tell. He's sorry to see the expression go though, because it looked nice on Equius face.]

Thanks. You know, for...

[Putting up with me. He raised his little makeshift sewing disaster.]

I appreciate it.

[mutab1e]

It's not a problem.

[He stares at it for a second. At least it's a marginally lesser sewing disaster.]

I don't have many... useful skills. But you're welcome to them.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan gave Equius a look. Actually, it was more like a Look, with capitals and all, implied as his eyes peeked over the rim of his sunglasses. He usually just sighed irritably and brushed over the self-deprecating remarks.

But then, it kind of... really stung, sometimes. Sometimes he got this melodramatic urges that were so melodramatic even he realized it. He wanted to grab the scrawny yellowblood by the shoulders, raise him up to his face and explain in detail how many times he's fucking died to save his sorry self-deprecating ass, because the fucking game couldn't be won without him.

None of them were useless. None of them. Eridan knew. Eridan wanted to scream. Eridan sighed tiredly and patted the sewing, voice a resigned drawl, because Equius was Equius, and after the... the incident following Nepeta leaving the tower, Eridan knew better than to try and upset the boy.]

Likewise, Eq, likewise.

OH welp there goes my heart

[mutab1e]

[...He dun fucked.]

[That feeling before, that he was kind of really screwed? Yeah, it's back now. Back with a vengeance. Somehow even he managed to understand the intended meaning of the Look, and it felt kind of like a punch in the gut. What had he done this time, though? He... he didn't want to ask, though his face was doing a really good job of doing it for him, along with the predictable punched-in-the-gut reactions.]

[He almost went and apologized for... whatever it was he'd done, but out of a desire to continue keeping his mouth shut, he just stared at Eridan like this for a moment before bowing his head and standing up, intention being to go back to his own work.]

[It didn't really matter what he did, did it? No. There was clearly a jadeblood here, displeased with him. ...Why had it taken him this long to notice that?]

Hang on, it's dangerous to go alone, take this.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan concentrated on his work, shifting on the bench and pulling his legs up. He was good at curling up, he could curl up in any surface with zero effort and guaranteed 100% extra comfort if he tried.

The worst part wasn't the look he'd seen on Equius face right before he moved away. Though admittedly that one had gone and hurt real nice. Oh no, no. The point was that there was nothing he could do about it. If he apologized, Equius would twist it around back on him, probably along with another dose of stupid hemospectrum bullshit that he really didn't need.

God, he hated feeling useless, which was usually why he hated himself most of the time. Haha, timepun. Right on schedule. Nothing he did ever worked out right, did it?

So he curled on himself, working quietly. He focused intently on what he was doing, because if he didn't he might do something stupid like storm away and that'd only make Equius feel worse.]

Gira got a REPLACEMENT HEART! ...It doesn't seem to work. :C

[mutab1e]

[Equius just sat there and worked for quite a while, completely silent. Any sounds or movement would cause Eridan to look up at him, and that was something he wanted to avoid; enough that, instead of just excusing himself, he forced himself to sit there and work and not look up at Eridan, no matter what. It got somewhat easier as he went deeper into the project, and after a short while, the second shirt was folded neatly on top of the first. He would see if they fit later.]

[Work. Work was good. He would have preferred some tools and a metal shell to work with, but as long as it was occupying his hands, he could focus more on a thing that made him feel better a bit less worse, the signless shirts.]

[...Oh, if Eridan was making shirts as well, he would want the paint. Though chances are Equius would be out of here before they were needed, because his plan was to leave as soon as he finished. So, under the guise of grabbing more pins, he started setting out a few jars of paint; random colors, but Eridan would see jade in there if he looked carefully.]

I'm sorry, I bought them wholesale. ;C

[chronomancer]

[At length, Eridan gave up. He couldn't hold it in, and fuck if he got a hemospectrum lecture for his efforts. At least Equius wouldn't be acting like a scared squeakbeast.]

I wish you wouldn't do that, you know.

[He kept his eyes on his sewing, which was now coming out squished together, tight and nearly bunching up the fabric. His voice was soft and apologetic, lacking the bite of acid humor that he injected on it more out of habit than anything else by now.]

Put yourself down all the time.

Ahh, it's the thought that counts. u3u

[mutab1e]

[The tone of voice was... surprising. Of the many reactions he thought Eridan would have upon speaking to him again (including the outstanding variable of 'none, as he'll never speak to me again'), whatever that was wasn't one of them. So he stopped the laughable excuse for doing something and turned around with the pins in one hand, listening.]

...I'm sorry. But... there's no point in avoiding it, really...

[He's got an expression and tone that suggests he's much, much more acquainted with this fact than he really should be. Maryam knew firsthand about him, and no doubt she blew his problems out of proportion for the others, but at the very least everyone knew. Besides, he didn't believe he knew how to go about life not putting himself down, but he was keeping that thought very well contained at the back of his head, Eridan, he doesn't need any pesky inquiring jadebloods making it blaze up again, thank you very much.]

Re: Ahh, it's the thought that counts. u3u

[chronomancer]

[Eridan arched his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.]

...believe me when I say I know.

[And he did! Honestly, but it didn't make it any less annoying to contemplate.]

But that doesn't change the fact I wish you wouldn't. It just means I know you won't stop.

[And that was... sad. For reasons he'd rather not think about in depth.]

[mutab1e]

...What's the... problem with it?

[Legitimate question, one he almost looks scared to ask. He doesn't want another Look and contradictory statement, okay. The first one was bad enough.]

[chronomancer]

[Eridan snorts, staring intently at his stitches and most definitely not at Equius.]

How would you feel if you knew someone back home who constantly insisted both moons are orange. Or that there's only one moon. Or something like that. Kept telling you over and over, and you know they believe it, and it won't matter that you know for a fact they're wrong, they'll never see your way. But they'll also won't stop insisting about this thing they're so sure about, and which you're dead certain they're wrong.

[At some point, the hypothetical question turned into a full rant. Eridan stopped because he realized he'd bent the poor needle in the process and stared at it for a moment. He sighed.]

Something like that.

[mutab1e]

But that has nothing to do with--

[...Wait.]

[Loading... loading...]

...That's different.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan smiled wryly, and chanced a look up at Equius.]

Trust me, it really, really isn't.

shoot me now. /headdesk

[mutab1e]

Yes it is, because you can look out the window and you can clearly see that there are two moons, and they're not orange, and you can prove to the other person that they're wrong. Because it's a fact.

[chronomancer]

...well, okay, that's the one thing this is different, but not for the reasons you think.

[He snorts and reaches to grab a new needle, given the bent one will not unbend itself. He sighs.]

I have proof, very convincing proof, it is the most amazing of proofs. But I can't show it to you.

[He pauses a moment, trying to pass the thread by the needle's eye, tongue peeking between his teeth as he does. It takes a few tries. He smiles a little humorlessly at this triumph.]

It's actually rather infuriating. Your lucky number's seven, for the record.

[mutab1e]

Wet the tip of the string first, it gets rid of the frayed edges. Um. I mean--[...It came out before he could stop himself, okay. Shut up.]

[He looks a bit baffled at Eridan's whole thing there, but charges bravely on anyhow. He's not even going to ask about the lucky number, which is fortunate; there are two things it's easy to set him off on lectures about, and those are the hemospectrum and math.] ...Why? Did you leave it in the Veil or...?

[chronomancer]

[He flashed a ghost of a smile at Equius request, but it melted away as he asked.]

Oh no, I've known this long before we got stuck in the Veil. It's not the kind of proof you carry around, I mean.

[mutab1e]

Well... what is it, then?

[He's just completely lost here, and isn't even bothering to hide it.]

[chronomancer]

[He's quiet for a moment, a long moment, actually, and not just because he's trying to get back into the swing of his sewing, horribly squished as it now is. Or because he desperately needs something to do with his hands least he starts fidgeting with his claws.

At length then, and very, very quietly, Eridan speaks.]

If you were really as useless and worthless as you think you are, the timelines wouldn't doom themselves, after you die.

[mutab1e]

...That's because I'm the Space player, Eridan.

All of those became doomed because I had to fulfill certain objectives to proceed, and I couldn't do that if I was dead. [Hey, he coded this game, alright. He knows a bit about what he's expected to do -- or at least, he does now. In the beginning he was screaming his head off like a rabid monkey. But that's a different story.] It has nothing to do with my personal ability, only my job within the game.

[chronomancer]

...even after you were done?

[He arches an eyebrow.]

I'm the Time player, remember? I know a thing or two about doomed timelines.

[mutab1e]

...

[This, he has no answer to. Good job, you've stumped an Equius.]

[chronomancer]

Yeah.

[He shrugs, moving on with his too-tight stitches and his guilt complex. Yeah.]

[mutab1e]

[The Let's-Ruin-Every-Conversation-We-Start Brigade strikes again. He'd figure out what he did in the timeline to cause its destruction later. For now, he decided to jump onto the other half od Eridan's rant.]

...What did you mean about the number seven?