Gladiolus Amicitia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
piercetheheart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lifeaftr2018-05-08 11:03 pm
piercetheheart) wrote in lifeaftr2018-05-08 11:03 pm
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.
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.
no subject
Decorum applies to people. Living human beings. Not daemons in a trench coat and really bad hat.