abraxaslogs | Interlude Catch All

[ Jerry’s making soup. What he’s heard about other peoples’ good moms is: they make soup when their kids are feeling bad. Jerry may not have birthed Kyle and Jack from his own uterus, but he’s never been one to leave bros in a crisis. Jack’s losing the love of his life for the third(ish) time, Kyle’s regurgitating his feelings into the communal bathroom. What’s a 31 year old, male, self-assigned two minutes ago surrogate mother to do?

Jerry knows exactly what’s up with Jack, and Kyle, he kind of suspects but can’t be sure. Sensei did some pretty dark shit during their field trip to the future. Then, he was forced to relive some pretty dark shit when all the memories flooded back (Jerry feels a little responsible, letting him remain stuck in Jack’s nightmare scape for that). The dude needs some TLC, and that’s Jerry’s second middle name, right after Danger.

When Kyle returns from the bathrooms, Jerry’s set a spot at the table with a bowl of soup. ]

Hey, dude, come taste test this for me, I made you a bowl.

[ Next to the bowl is a bottle of herbal mouthwash he got from the market, and some water. No one likes vomit aftertaste. ]

[ Kahlil hasn't had a moment to stop since they reawakened in the crater. Between his new and scattered memories, the surge of old memories, and his fear for his friends, he's been forcing himself to keep moving forward, uncertain how long he can sustain the momentum. When he finally reaches a limit he doesn't even remember walking into the bathroom, but he's hunched over the toilet emptying mostly bile.

Better than whatever was sitting in their stomachs for the three weeks they were lying there, trapped in some kind of stasis.

He doesn't realize Jerry heard him, or even came to check on him. When he returns, he eyes the soup, and then Jerry. He spots the mouthwash too, which he takes first... and awkwardly swallows it, not really having somewhere to spit it. It's fine, though. He mostly washed his mouth out in the bathroom. ]

What's in it? [ The soup, not the mouthwash. He seems - maybe surprisingly, since they technically haven't known each other that long, relatively at ease. Or maybe just mentally drained. Either way, he sits at the table, waiting for an answer before touching the bowl. ]

The tenderest of love and care.

[ Jerry plops himself down across from Kyle, wearing a goofy grin. A manic grin. A grin that might be on some uppers. Or, bursting at the seams with anxiety that’s determined to be glee, in a very specifically jerry way that may lead one to believe he’s on the edge of wholesale losing his shit with worry. ]

Also, chicken, noodles, carrots, celery, some peas, potatoes, garlic, onion. [ probably more stuff than should go in a single soup, but it still smells good. ] At least, it looked like chicken.

[ it is certainly hearty. Maybe a little more of a stew than a soup, but it doesn’t taste bad. Nothing Gordon Ramsey would put in his restaurants, a bit of a clusterfuck, but still tasty. ]

Just try it. Can you taste the wholesome embrace of supportive friendship?

[ he genuinely looks nervous, biting a lip and bouncing his leg under the table. Please taste the wholesome embrace of supportive friendship. It’s so important to him that it’s good and jack likes it and it heals his soul like the self-help books said. ]

[ He raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the amount of ingredients involved. 'Looked like chicken' doesn't seem to get much of a reaction. Most people in Nayeshi would be horrified to know what the average person from Basawar ate. ]

Getting friendly with the kitchen staff?

[ His tone is wry, a faint smile on his lips. Kahlil had made a point of being friendly with the castle staff when he first arrived, hoping to glean information from the gossip they undoubtedly overheard while working in the background. He'd made a good impression, for the most part - though it did get him into some trouble eventually.

He takes the spoon and stirs the thick broth for a few turns. It smells good. Jerry's nervous tics are noticeable, and after a moment he takes pity and spoons some of the soup into his mouth. ]

Are we friends, now? I thought I was your sen-sei. [ This comes out in a wry tone as well. ]

Any institution or alternate dimension you find yourself in, always friend up the kitchen staff. You never know when juice craving's gonna strike.

[ what's worse than being trapped in a castle or a prison or a far off world? being trapped without juice. hearing gossip from the servers is a solid strategy too, but jerry probably didn't set out with that in mind. more like, jerry met some cool peeps and after 20 minutes, was either loved or hated by them. at least it worked out in his favor this time.

as for kyle, whoa, what, jerry is mystified his roommate doesn't know they been being friends this whole time. weird how often that happens to him with people, but it's fine, he can straighten that misconception up right now. ]

What doucheferret said you can't be my sensei and my friend? Fuck that guy. We're buds.

[ as far as jerry's concerned, they've been friends since the closet hammock. however, jerry's interpretation of relationships does not always match up to reality. usually doesn't bother him much. anyway, kyle hasn't given his review yet. ]

Soooo? Do you feel loved and cared for tenderly?

Doucheferret...?

[ He says the word like he's testing it out, the chuckles to himself before taking another spoonful of soup. Kahlil is often equally mystified by the way Jerry wields English. But sometimes, like now, he can sit back and enjoy the way he strings it all together. ]

Alright. We are buds. [ He says this with a wide grin. It's nice to say these things plainly. ] And I won't speak to any faud'ganal.

[ This feels nice. For a moment he's not thinking about everything else weighing him down. ]

I feel well taken care of, thank you Jerry.

Edited 2024-06-06 04:02 (UTC)

Food'gondala...?

[ don't come at his doucheferret if you're going to start making up word salads like that. what a funky little (6'3") dude kyle is. even after 800 years puttering around after him, there's still so much jerry feels like he doesn't know about the guy. but, they're buds now, so all in good time.

kyle's come a long way from puking in the community bathrooms, and while jerry's sure his culinary genius isn't entirely to credit, he likes to believe it helped. nothing gets him in the feelings like providering for, protecting, being valuable to a person he cares about.

and gee golly gosh, what a wholesome grin on that usually serious sensei face of his. feels like jerry got a secret pass to witness something closer to what's authentically kyle, like a kyle in his natural habitat of chill. he preens with pride and flashes one of his brightest, cheerful, almost a little bashful grins yet. ]

Just doing what buds do, y'know, out in these streets, doing my budliest. [ that warm, cozy belonging jerry's always chasing nestles into his chest, and he folds his arms on the table, dropping his chin on top, while his feet fidget under his chair. ] So, are there peeps Sensei Kyle has provided a tender love and care for? Paint me a mind portrait of Softe Kyle.

Edited 2024-06-06 05:59 (UTC)

Fuckweasel.

[ Not quite doucheferret, but as close as he can get in his own tongue.

Jerry has a handsome smile. It makes him think of John and his particular kindness, even if their personalities couldn't be any more opposite. Beneath the chaos Kahlil recognizes something solid and stable about Jerry, though, at least when it comes to supporting his loved ones - or even sometimes relative strangers, like himself. It endears him to Kahlil.

The question confuses him, though. He raises an eyebrow, uncertain about what Jerry is asking, exactly. He can practically hear the silent 'e' in Softe, and he has no idea why. ]

Here? I've never cooked for anyone, no - or tucked someone into a blanket burrito. [ He gives a wry grin as he stirs the soup with the spoon. ] I don't think I've ever been called tender or soft.

[ He had no friends before arriving here. No one he misses from his own world, except maybe Alidas. Even that strange half-life seems so far away now. ]

Edited 2024-06-07 16:45 (UTC)

Fuckweasel. [ his eyes light up, giddy and snickering. he was not expecting fuckweasel from this sensei, but he'll absolutely take it. ]

Ok, ok, what's the word for... [ jerry searches the room for inspiration, we've got chairs, beds, walls— ] Dickcastle?

[ not all of them can be winners.

anyway, about kyle and his softness. he claims no one's ever called him such a thing, and jerry snorts, dubious. ]

If no one sees a tree death drop in the woods, does it still slay?

[ yes, yes it does. get it, shantay. just because no one's called out a softe kyle doesn't mean we aren't still deep into schrödinger's softe kyle territory, and jerry's commited to proving it's existence. ]

What about people you take care of, or people you want to protect? You rock that big protector energy. Here or anywhere else.

[ Kahlil snorts and rolls his eyes, eating another spoonful of soup. He'll have to be satisfied enough with fuckweasel, as Kahlil gives no more translations. He squints at the turn of phrase, which hits his limits on English slang.

What is the tree supposed to be slaying?

He does take a minute to seriously think about that question, though, frowning to himself. ]

I looked after Jack, before you and Sabine arrived. [ Including the arrival of previous Jerry. He shrugs. ] There was someone back home I watched over but - it's very complicated.

[ He doesn't know if he really wants to try explaining The Rifter right now. He'd have to choose his words carefully, and he's enjoying having a normal conversation with someone, that doesn't involve lying or selectively telling the truth. ]

I want to protect all of us here. I know that's why I was summoned.

Edited 2024-06-09 02:24 (UTC)

[ he won't begrudge him for skipping dickcastle, fuckweasel is already very satisfactory, and they'll get to kyle's drag queen dance move education later.

'complicated' is a tempting big red button jerry wants to push so bad. he watches kyle sidelong, chewing the inside of a lip, crocking an eyebrow, and considering it. maybe a little obviously considering it, for the amount of pause he takes. but, he lets it rest for now, skipping to the other interesting part.

he knew some people spoke to the singularly, or had some kind of funky rock-to-person communication, but jerry was under the impression it was mostly mysterious. kyle claiming he knows why he was summoned, well, he doesn't take kyle for much of a figurative speaker, so this is the first jerry's heard of individual reason behind the singularity collecting them. the implication is compelling. ]

Damn, was that straight from the mother rock? Shit, Kyle, your protector cred is transdimensional.

[ He snorts at that. His protector cred literally is transdimensional... ]

Straight from my god. I believe he is the reason I'm here.

[ Kahlil gives a half shrug. It's complicated, and rarely does anyone take his faith too seriously. Other people require proof that he cannot give them, except for the fact that he is alive now, and not a corpse in the Gray Space, his ribs a tomb for the yasi'halaun.

Jerry did mention he's religious, though. ]

I was a priest in my world.

You're a ninja priest? On a mission from God? [ bro. ] Dude, you're one exotic name away from Paul Bettany playing you in a badass movie adaptation of a comic book. Love that for you.

[ here it is, this is the shit jerry wanted to dig into. the core and pillars of kyle, the cannot replace, cannot disentangle bits that he's built on. the convictions and drivers and cultural nuture-over-nature effects - meat and potatoes.

religion is a crazy, fascinating thing. jerry will never tell anyone their gods don't exist or demand proof, because religious belief is a miracle of consciousness. many a night as he laid on his bus camper and pondered over facets of it, a favorite being the chicken or the egg scenario. did a divine celestial creator form humanity out of dirt or did the powerful combination of focused consciousness pull god out of the swirling void of the cosmos? science backs up the power of the mind time and again, and anyone who thinks the universe is exactly what we preceive and physics has fit the phenomenon of endless space into a neat box needs to go stare into the void and sip on some of that delicious terror of the infinte unknown. what he means is, this is rad as fuck.

jerry straightens up, shuffles his chair in closer, and folds hands under his chin with captivated stare. ]

What's your god like? Did you pick this one in particular from a pantheon or was it a monotheistic, cultural pillar kind of thing?

Edited 2024-06-12 06:22 (UTC)

[ Who?

He raises an eyebrow at Jerry, giving him a bewildered look with a smile. ]

The second one. [ He studies Jerry for a few seconds before continuing: ] He created the world from his body, and so he's part of everything.

[ Kahlil gives a small shrug. ]

I was raised at a monastery. The church was extremely powerful, but it was also corrupt. It was destroyed some decades ago.

[ By the god's destroyer incarnation himself. ]

[ sounds like theocracy, sounds like the holy roman empire, even the body and blood of god part. many religions have a creator god that either came from or merged with the earth, so that tracks. it's a sweet sentiment, one that make sure the congregation never feels lonely. comforting. ]

Must've been rough, losing the culture you were raised in. Do you have to hide your faith after the fall?

[ kyle's may have built his life around this god, so to have it all fall through your hands, watching that structure crumble, must've been traumatizing for a young person. the corruption's rarely religion's fault, more so the inevitablity of human dudes doing what human dudes do.

but there's a hiccup in this story. ]

Decades? [ plural. jerry frowns, dubious. ] Either you look fantastic for your age, or that math doesn't add up.

[ Rough isn't a word he'd use himself. Conflicting is more accurate. To miss parts of that life, while knowing that the world is better off without it. ]

Sort of.

[ It's easier to answer the questions in reverse order. Like Jack, he expects none of this will sound completely unbelievable to Jerry. ]

Arriving in Abraxas isn't my first time traveling through space and time. [ He goes back to stirring his soup, disrupting the thin layer of oil resting at the surface. ] I had the means to travel between my own world, Basawar, and Earth. It was part of my sacred duty - I haven't told many people here about that.

[ Jack knows. Istredd now knows. A few others in the Free Cities. When he first arrived, and maybe up until a couple of months ago, he was much more careful about hiding his travels, generally talking about the Gates as a thing of the past in his world. Which, technically, they are now. After a beat he continues: ]

The last time I traveled, I had to... take a less accurate path. You can always lose time between worlds, sometimes days or weeks. When I landed in Basawar that time, I'd lost decades. It affected my memories, too. It took a while to remember who I was. I learned that the church had been destroyed years ago, and worship of Parfir was outlawed entirely. So, I did have to hide my faith, but it wasn't very hard when no one expected any of us to be left alive.

[ jerry arrives at clarisse's domain, parking his school bus camper at the edge of the territory before he hops out, whistling La Vie En Rose as popularized by international music sensation and trumpet virtuoso Louis Armstrong. from inside, he drags an odd black ball and a pile of long poles with little disc things at the ends. after spending some time in assembly, he has a big, funky looking ball.

that big funky looking ball gets shoved forward, into the minefield, where it bounces as the mines it rolls over are set off. jerry follows behind it, still whistling, giving it a push if it stalls, until he can make it all the way through to the door of clarisse's cabin. science fucking rules, y'all. ]

Yo! I came for my complimentary stabbing.

Edited 2024-05-20 04:15 (UTC)

[ at the agreed upon time and location, one jerry pascal stands nervously waiting to meet his baby child, with an armful of gifts. He holds a tiny, tiny teddy bear, a macaroni art birthday card with a FILL IN THE BLANK spot for age, a handful of shit he thinks might count for currency, and a custom stitched slug-sized Goat Destroyer tee he designed himself (mid-level art of a dude with a guitar and a lumpy shark playing drums).

soon, a head of fluffy, curly hair he recognizes as eddie from their future times (minus some bat attributes (battributes, if you will), and he lurches up from his waiting bench. ]

Is that Ronnie? Is that my firstborn, heir to my kingdom?

[ his kingdom: a hammock inside kyle's closet, but kyle has a few pretty nice shirts, ok? ]

Man, you came…really prepared, huh?

[ Eddie knows to expect the absolute most from Jerry, so he isn’t terribly surprised to see that he comes bearing gifts. The handmade slug-sized Goat Destroyer merch is a very pleasant surprise, though. ]

Alright. Are you ready to get reacquainted with the slug, the myth, the legend?

[ He grins and reaches into the little pouch he’s brought along with him. Ronnie is a needle slug, and while Eddie doesn’t get stung as often anymore, a deep bond is apparently not enough to totally prevent it from happening, so he’s careful and deliberate when he presents the creature to Jerry. ]

Just, uh, be careful. The spines are really sharp.

I was an Eagle Scout in a past life.

[ jerry audibly, animatedly gasps at the slug reveal, hands to his cheeks and followed up with an excited squeal. ]

Our slug child looks metal as fuck, dude.

[ look at those little spikes!! no one's bullying this slug on the playground. jerry takes the needle baby with great care, as if it is a human infant also covered in dangerous spikes, and tries to find one spike-free zone to pet it with a finger. ]

Aww, where'd we find this little cutie? [ assuming they did not, actually, birth ronnie themselves (ouch), but given this place, who knows. ]

You’re telling me, dude.

[ Ronnie is metal as fuck. Eddie carefully transports the little creature into Jerry’s hands, beaming like a proud parent. This may not be the Jerry that Ronnie remembers, but he’s Jerry all the same and the slug doesn’t seem to know the difference, keeping its needles to itself. ]

Well, uh…let’s just say a little light kidnapping might have been involved.

[ They fully stole Ronnie. ]

Ronnie here was part of a carnival game—maybe about a year and a half back? We probably could have freed the others, but uh...there was some alcohol involved and this little guy is the one who made it out.

[ jerry takes ronnie with all the care of cradling a newborn infant to your chest, and there's a new-mother glow about him as he looks into ronnie's innocent, beady little eyes. he/they/she's perfect. he awws softly. ]

I was a carnie once — it's a strange, meth-infused life.

[ following in his papa's footsteps! but there's so many better substances to get wrecked on than meth, come on, y'all. ]

Any theft charges are worth our progeny's freedom from bad influences and gross teeth.

[ Ronnie doesn’t do a whole lot—just inches along in Jerry’s hands and waves its little tentacles like any slug would do, but remains an adorable, incredibly metal creature never the less. ]

Man, you know, that makes everything make so much sense.

[ He’d known and gotten along well with a Jerry before but not really known a whole lot about him. Somehow, carnie just fits, even if it isn’t a longstanding career move. ]

No charges. Some weird looks, but they just don’t understand, you know? Pretty sure he’s been happier than ever outside of that place.

[ jerry is smitten. ronnie is perfect, in every sense of the word, and he's devoted to helping this metal slug achieve all its little metal slug dreams. ]

Not everyone can comprehend the joys of fatherhood.

[ or the struggles of departing from the carnie life. not that it took jerry much effort - a dude got brutally murdered and that kind of ended the carnival for the handful of weeks he worked at it. womp womp. ]

What about extracurricular activities? Is Ronnie in matheletes? Do they want to be a volleyball star? A Reiki sound healer? I will personally fight the entire PTA to support their dreams.

Yeah, man, they can judge all they want but they’ll never know the sheer elation when you see that little face light up.

[ As if Ronnie really has a face to light up…it doesn’t matter. Their slug child is perfect and the two of them are clearly the best slug parents and no one else matters. ]

You know, they’re a little shy about revealing too much but, uh, rumor has it? Our little Ronnie is absolutely dying to be a tightrope walker. And if you ask me, they can be literally anything they wanna be.

Interlude Catch All

Kyle; soup

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I DO NOT KNOW THE BASAWAR WORD FOR PENIS

LOL SORRY FRIEND

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Clarisse; land mines and stabbing

eddie; slug time

SLUG TIME

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