lifeaftr | Anywhere the struggle is great

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Anywhere the struggle is great

Who: Gladio, residents of Isle 1, and anyone else that shows up
What: Guys, GUYS.... shower time
When: Evening of May 8
Where: Just offshore of the Cove on Islet 1
Warnings: Gratuitous use of a wet Gladio

Over the last few days, since arriving really, Gladio has been doing his damnedest to keep track of all the things he needs to do, keeping track of all the projects that need tending to. It really is something of a miracle that they've gotten by for so long with so little.

His very first project is to make tanks for fresh water. There are two and it does not take terribly long to build the actual tanks. Prompto helps him gather wood and in those first few days he has enough animal fat to melt down and protect the wood of the base for the one he means to be an actual storage for drinking water. Both tanks are squares, roughly 4x4 cubes built on the edge of the grassy area that slopes down to the beach so he did not have to build them on frames. The first lined with clay and filled with sea water (for now at least). The second was split in half, the lower compartment for filtered water, the upper awaiting layers he was still working on.

Both had bamboo pipes that fed out, the shower tank already set up so that one could stand at the bottom of the hill, beneath the the output above and... well... shower. Gladio had already moved a few baskets of gravel and stone over so that the area beneath the shower was no longer sand and would not wash away as easily. The bar of soap that had come to him in his knapsack was sitting on a rock he'd dug into the hillside as something of a shelf. Now that everything was assembled it was time to test his work.

The first moment under the spray had him cursing, the water far colder than he'd have liked. Which had him marching back up to the top of the hill, poking around at the violently smoking, extremely hot mound of mud where he was making charcoal to collect a few stones. Makeshift wooden tongs to pick them up, far too hot to handle with his hands, and immediately upon dropping them into the shower tank the water began roiling around the stones, spreading the heat into the water.

"Perfect!" And then he was running back down to the base of the hill to bask under the spray of warm water, leather pants and boots long since cast aside and now his boxers sticking to him but he wasn't quite ready to scandalize anyone yet.

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Gladio is honestly just glad to finally have a decent shower. He'd come to the island covered in soot from the Infernian himself. It's really a wonder it took him this long to get the whole thing working.

He's aware of Tim for a bit before he actually says anything, scrubbing the soap through his hair but still keeping half an eye on the other man, alert and aware of exactly how many steps it would take for him to get to Hyperion, the greatsword stored carefully a good distance from the dangers of the sea water.

The question makes him huff out a laugh, tilting his head back to scrub some of the soap out of his hair. "Well the birds sure as hell didn't do it."

"I have been here since August," says Tim, utterly deadpan. "And no one since then has built a shower in record time."

Granted, no one here knows much about surviving on an island with limited resources, he's pretty sure. Tim's knowledge of how to build shit is fairly limited, as evidenced by the slow-as-fuck progression he's been making with his single actual project.

That may have to do with the fact that he had to recover from being stabbed, which hampered his progress kind of significantly.

He scrubs his hair one last time, slicks it back out of his face, and then shoves the plug back into the pipe to stop the water flow. Then he's tromping up the hillside towards the other man.

"You've been here about as long as Iggy and Prom then, huh?" Gladio just smiles, offers his hand. "Gladio. Yeha I kinda noticed that things are a little... sad, really."

Seriously, he's still amazed that they've all lasted so long. Especially Prompto. He's always been one to seek out creature comforts rather than rough it.

See, he knows what both those words mean, but he only vaguely knows who Ignis and Prompto are, and thus doesn't know to pair the nicknames with the men in question. He takes the guy's hand regardless, shakes it, but it's clear that his attention is mostly devoted to the water tanks.

"Most of us aren't the island survival types," he says, somewhat wry. "I've been building stuff up on the mainland, but progress has been pretty slow without supplies."

Plus he got stabbed a while back, which kinda hampered his ability to do, uh, things. Just regular, everyday types of things.

"Never used any of it on an island before but I've spent more than my share of time out in the wilderness." By choice. This is how Gladio nerds out okay, he's weird but at least it's useful.

But the mention of someone else working on projects is exciting and he perks up at that. Though the fact that he's been here for 8 months and not managed to get very far isn't terribly promising. "What kinda building? And what kind of supplies? I mean there's not much in the way of modern amenities but there's plenty of supplies."

Clearly. But most people aren't going to chip rocks down to make axes and other madness.

"Trying to get kind of a...bar, restaurant sorta deal." If he had a sense of self-consciousness or shame about his perceived uselessness, maybe he'd be more sheepish about it. "There's some old wrecked buildings out by this lake. Problem is, they're all built on this boggy ground, so trying to get stone for their foundations hasn't been easy."

He can build shit, sure, but splitting logs, refining materials - he has to rely on Taako and Ed for stuff like that, and their abilities are significantly limited here thanks to the weird atmosphere. If there's any quarries in the vicinity, he's got no clue where they are.

Okay, so it seems a little backwards, to him, to want to make a bar or restaurant or whatever when the basic necessities such as housing is in shambles. Priorities, bro. But to each their own?

He does have some thoughts on how to make things a little easier though. So maybe he can help. As long as they're not competing for resources cause that is... not okay.

"Mixing some plant fibers into the existing ground might make things more manageable. Dried grasses and leaves, absorbent fibers. It'll make the ground sturdier to support the weight of stone later too. Maybe mix some clay in and keep a really hot fire burning inside to pull some of the moisture out too." Or he could make bricks but Gladio doesn't even have a kiln yet so that might be asking a lot. Besides if it's that wet bricks or stones are just gonna sink into the mud.

See, he knows fire. He knows very little, but he knows fire. Hates tat he does. Allows for the expertise to be the prevailing, most significant thing about him - in too many cases, the only thing that people remember, because it’s the only thing they see.

He has reasons for it; for the fire, and for the project in general. Taako wanted to know his angle, in thinking to set a thing like that up, and to date remains the closest to actually picking up on the underlying motivations.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he admits, considering. “I’ve done construction back home, but - not with raw materials or anything, so it’s kind of a learning curve.”

Honestly, it's not that different from what he'd expect from Prompto. Not that there might be ulterior motives beyond... the priorities of city folk.

"Should at least help till you can find more stone." A shrug, up to Tim if he wants to take the advice or not. "It's... very different, doing construction and roughing it like this."

He actually looks a little sheepish, reaches up to pull the damp hair that's sticking to the back of his neck up. "Kinda been a hobby of mine for awhile."

“Thank god,” says Tim, equal parts lighthearted deadpan and utter sincerity. “Honestly, never thought working on construction would come in handy, but I guess everything’s got its use out here.”

Including, as it happens, his poorly-documented, long-repressed, unwanted history with fires. That has especially had its use here. To great effect.

“Thanks, though. I’ll try that out next chance I get.”

The deadpan gets an amused snort and Gladio flashes a grin at him. Okay it was a weird hobby but when the world ended it came in handy. It’ll be even more useful here.

“Everything has its uses, just gotta find em.” Which might be oddly optimistic for him but he’s got sunshine and a shower. “Might be able to help you out with bricks once I get the house settled.” Because house first, sorry bro.

“Hey, you wanna go?” Nodding back towards the shower. Yes, that’s right. Free showers for all.

Well, it's certainly tempting, he won't lie. And for a minute, Tim definitely considers it, hesitating as he stares at the fabricated downpour. It'd be better than scrubbing off layers of grime in the shallows, grimacing when salt water splashes into the still-aching, raggedly-healed pucker where a knife entered his abdomen and slid out again.

"...maybe some other time," he says, with reluctance that may as well be palpable. "I can't stay out here too long."

He's got...kids who might get antsy if he's away too much. Not for their own safety, no - more because Tim manages to get himself in hot water frequently, and they've kinda taken it upon themselves to bail him out.

“So much to do, so little time, yeah?” Gladio nods, understanding,or at least he thinks he does. He does gesture up at the shower with a little shrug. “Anytime you want. Might take a bit but I should be able to find some plants I can make soap from.” Soon enough all shower supplies will be available to everyone. (Except Ardyn)

“Name’s Gladio by the way.” He finally moves closer, holds his hand out for a shake. “Lemme know how your flooring works out? Should be able to help out once I get things under control here.”

"Something like that," says Tim, because that's easier than well, I'm living with two kids that recently tried to beat the shit out of each other, but then I happened to get my entrails dumped onto the grass a couple days ago and at least one of them feels increasingly personally responsible for my safety despite the fact that it really wasn't either kid's fault and they have legitimate grievances with both me and each other.

But that'd be pretty wordy.

"Tim." He keeps it simple, and shakes the other guy's hand, steady and firm. It doesn't stand out the same way Gladio does, but he also doubts there are any other Tims here. "And, uh. Thanks. I'm not really the best guy for the job, but for a while I was the only one, so I did my best."

And here he thought his life was complicated.

"Never hurts to try, yeah?" He flashes Tim a grin, taps his shoulder with a light, playful punch, and then turns to make his way back up the hill to the other half of this project.

Tim flinches. Doesn't mean to, mind; it's involuntary, and bolts a spurt of epinephrine that knots up in the core of him, caught off guard by the sudden contact that wasn't telegraphed, that communicated an ease and familiarity that Tim hadn't anticipated.

He smooths over the hiccup quickly. He's gotten good at that. Shrugs it away, and watches Gladio go.

He doesn't stick around for long after that.

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Anywhere the struggle is great

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