Skeleton City // PSL

[birdsbirdsbirds]

They call it the "Market", and it's always buzzing like a hive. The vast caverns are warmed by the hundreds of bodies all hauling, shouting, pitching, laughing, exchanging things from one hand to another. Even more people stroll up above, their voices lost in the tangle of bridges made of stone and wood and metal. The place is lit by dozens of electric signs, spilling brightwarm colors where the hanging lanterns cannot reach.

There is a lot to look at. One person seems to trade a bolt of rich red cloth for some nails and hinges. One man is trying very hard to convince another that the chicken he is holding is worth at least three bags of grainmeal. And then there is whatever Phalanx is holding, which they most certainly did not trade for, and it most certainly leads to someone reaching out over their stall table and grabbing them harshly by the arm.

"Hey, you little theif!" Says an irate, heavy-set woman, "What do you think you're doing?"

Comments

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx diligently stores every pin and needle in their sleeve, all in a neat little row, all oriented in the same direction.

They only break their focus when Robin offers that word for them. Their features have gained a little more color in the time that they've been working on their little project, so that bright brown eyes meet Robin's when they look up again.

"Sewing?"

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Ah, maybe that one was a miss after all.

"Is that where you know the pins from?"

But that won't stop him from giving it a shot. It's entirely possible he's got this all wrong--but if he can exhaust one train of thought, he'll at least have made some progress in solving the mystery.

[pileofspirits]

"Sewing." This one is more of a statement, sounding more sure as the idea has had a few seconds to sit.

Then, with a sudden flicker of understanding, Phalanx holds up one of the bobbins of thread.

"Sewing?"

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"...Yeah, that's used for sewing."

Again, it isn't much, but he'll nod, waiting to see if this realization that Phalanx is having leads to anything substantial, or if this whole thing has just been another note in a song with no tune.

[pileofspirits]

This flicker of understanding continues to burn, and Phalanx follows it all the way to successfully picking the end of thread from the spool, identifying the difference between the needles and pins in their sleeve, and beginning the attempt to put the two together.

Someone in there seems to be remembering how to sew.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

This is not what he had in mind when he decided they should visit the market. But how could he have predicted something like this would happen? He sees it as a learning opportunity, if anything, even if it is a very small one. Even if this turns out insignificant in the long run, he can already say he knows a little bit more about Phalanx than he did when he woke up.

So he takes one of those fancy, well-made wraps from his arm and holds it out to Phalanx. It's already neatly hemmed, but it wouldn't be a far stretch of the imagination to see it as a long strip of fabric waiting to be turned into something else.

[pileofspirits]

Ah! And that's all Phalanx needs to sit down right where they're at, in the dust, and start sewing.

Muscle memory apparently goes a long way even when you're an undead conglomeration of souls, because Phalanx only fumbles a little bit as they thread the needle and set to task--wrapping the fabric around their hand and starting to sew some part of it together.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"Well, well..."

Said quietly to himself, as he doesn't want to disturb them during this moment of lucidity... But he smiles again, leaning back against a fence post to watch Phalanx start stitching the fabric together as if they'd never been away from it for long.

He'll keep an eye out for danger, of course, or anyone coming to bother them... But this early in the morning, no one will bother them. No one comes.

[pileofspirits]

Without the usual sorts of things that would interrupt someone's focus--physical needs, social pressures, weariness--who knows how long Phalanx would sit there and sew if left indefinitely to their own devices. Once they get going, they seem set and ready to continue doing so forever.

They form quick little stitches, if not the neatest or most deliberate, and soon there is a seam of white thread running down their arm, sewing the wrap to itself.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

At least they won't be losing it any time soon--though it doesn't escape Robin that it will also be a bitch to peel that off of Phalanx if he ever has to clean him up again.

"Are you having fun?" He puts the minor annoyance aside, kind of pleased just to be watching them work.

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx doesn't look up from their work or answer with words, but they do smile to themselves, as if they're hearing a nice thing from far away.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Is he going to have to break him out of it? It seems a shame, they're having such a nice time, wherever they've gone. But eventually they're going to run out of things to sew--and Robin is a little concerned that they may just start sewing a sleeve to some other part of their coat without noticing.

So he crouches down to get on Phalanx's level, speaking to them again, a bit more pointedly. He sounds amused.

"Phalanx, where are you now?"

[pileofspirits]

"Work," Phalanx immediately replies, as if it really should be obvious.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"Oh, well." Robin shrugs with a bit of a laugh. "Fair enough, I guess."

He gives them another moment of peaceful sewing before bothering in again.

"We do have to move on, though. Can you finish that up later?"

[pileofspirits]

You let a kid have a toy, give them a project, and then want to take it away again? Phalanx does finally pause in their task to look up at Robin, but they seem pretty uncomprehending about it. Big, confused brown eyes wondering why Robin would even be asking something like that.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

They could almost make him feel bad, with eyes like that. Even if those aren't the eyes that Phalanx is usually wearing.

"You can't just sit in the dirt and sew forever."

[pileofspirits]

Yeah, this line of logic doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Phalanx looks down at the ground, all the dust that they're sitting so happily in, and just look up at Robin again like the words coming out of his mouth are nothing but gibberish.

They don't see whatever problem Robin seems to be seeing, here.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"I'm serious..."

Though he says this with half a laugh again, which doesn't really sell his argument.

"Come on, put your pins away."

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx frowns, but maybe that instruction is simple and direct enough to not seem so daunting. Putting pins away--okay, they can do that.

They don't unthread the needle or undo any of the work that they're still in the middle of, but they do tuck the needle safely into their sleeve beside to the others.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"There now, that's good."

With their tool tucked away, Robin stands up again, pleased that they're moving in the right direction again.

"I promise that you can go back to sewing once we're done at the market."

He will hold a hand down to them, hoping that the direction is simple enough for them to know to take it and join him up here in the world of people who aren't sitting in the dirt.

[pileofspirits]

Yes, Phalanx seems as though they might start trying to string words together or put the effort toward thinking hard about something, but Robin's offered hand keeps them from getting bogged down in that.

Instead of arguing, Phalanx takes Robin's hand and follows him up onto their feet.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Robin helps them stand, committing the whole scene to memory. He doesn't know if they'll be able to tap into that memory again later, or if they're even away that they'd done it in the first place--but that will be the next experiment, for when they're settled away from the prying eyes of others.

He also gives their hood a polite little tug, just to keep any color-changing or face-morphing away from the eyes of casual passers-by.

"Good. We're going to get you a skirt next, I think that'll be easier."

Still holding their hand, he begins leading again, pulling them along the streets formed by the rows and tents.

[pileofspirits]

They might lose hold of the memory that they've just been pulled from, but the focus and agency that has been drummed up is at least still partially going. Once they're up and moving, Phalanx notices all the things that Robin is carrying and is drawn toward them. All of those lovely wraps and blanket, they now want them on their body.

So, as they're lead on toward their next destination, Phalanx starts reaching for some of the bundled-up cloth that Robin is carrying.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Robin is a little surprised when he feels the tug under his arm, looking back at Phalanx to see them grabbing at the bundle.

"You want these?" He assumes, shifting a little so Phalanx can at least take the wraps from him. The blanket is something he's inclined to hold onto a little longer.

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx seems perfectly happy with the wraps. As they continue their walk, half of Phalanx's attention wanders as per usual, observing their fascinating surroundings while the other half quietly busies itself with the bits of cloth.

Robin can get a glimpse of how the creature might have ended up in the tangled maze that he'd originally found them in, as Phalanx begins wrapping the cloth around their arms, tucking it under and tying it around their coat sleeves as they go.