Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power

[unpocoloco]

WHO: Héctor, OTA Catch All
WHERE: Around the school
WHEN: Various times after the 9th and/or the Valentines dance
WHAT: Various opens in the late evening
WARNINGS: Standard spoilers

You can't turn around a bad day, week, month, year, decade... you can't turn any of that without trying first. And so, once the monster's beaten back, his lost arm is returned, and the dance wraps up, so begins his annual rejuvenation. It's his return to the grind, starting every January (late this year but, well, he's doing his best), when he goes back to the drawing board and renews his plans-- only this time, not just for his return home. He's got a few things in mind this year, and isn't that exciting in and of itself?

A - OTA

With his arm back in place and whole again (gone for that week of the 2nd to the 9th and leaving him looking more like a zombie to people than he'd ever let himself before), he can actually get back to repairing the other one who took some hits this past while.

Rather than steal from the shop class, this time Héctor has decided to break in. Which, considering how much they let him use this place for doing repairs around the school, it isn't really breaking in is it? He doesn't think so. And so, upon a work table, in the dead of night, he's lain out a broken guitar. He's got nails and tools, bits of wood and scrap metal, anything he thought he could need for trying to repair the old thing. The guitar's not going to sound good when he's done, but it'll be something.

Despite everything, he's not quite ready to give up on music yet. In fact, he takes to humming a little as he works, breaking into soft song only to quiet again into humming as he hammers and cuts and sands away at the guitar. Until he hears footsteps and abruptly stops, that is.

B - Aube

Not every night can be spent on fixing the guitar. He's still got occasional evening classes to TA for, things to mark, essays to read. On those nights, he settles in the Aube common room, quietly working this time.

Being nocturnal as he is means bad news for any kids sneaking out of the dorm late in the night. "Ah, ah!" He says to any looking a little too ready to go, eyes lifting from his work to them and brows lifting higher. "Did you text Bee for this little excursion?"

C - Aube

Of course, not every child getting up in the night is looking for rowdy adventure. He knows all too well by now that some of these kids have had more adventure than they ever asked or bargained for. Those quiet wanderers, or ones who settle in corners, they're no less apt to get his attention.

He gives them their moment of space and quiet. Just a moment. Then, trying not to scare or disturb them, he walks over, placing a hand to the back of any given chair and tilting his head down at them.

"Hey," He says, soft as he can. "You okay? Can't sleep?"

D - OTA

In the early mornings, for any early risers who seek him (and not one of the smarter or more experienced of adults in this place) he's of course there to tutor those who need it. He may not always know what he's doing with magic but he can work out a lesson and, more than that, he can work with kids.

He draws another example upon paper when he can't simply show it, and he presents it, explaining each piece and part. "Do you understand?" He asks.

Perhaps you're the one he's tutoring. Or, perhaps, you're catching him just as the last kid wanders off and he's gathering up the books and papers, time soon running out with the coming dawn. But he might have time for one more.

E - OTA

He doesn't know the first thing about this, any of this. He keeps telling himself he's not a fighter, but more and more he's coming to realize he might need to be. It's not just about him anymore.

That evening he finds himself in one of the training areas. The bow he takes up is tall and heavy, heavier than a guitar. He's got the dexterity for that and the experiencing of firing... his arm. But it's not the same and he hasn't entirely got the strength built in him for using this thing. He's not sure if he can build the strength or if what he's got is as good as it's going to get. But he can't see himself yet using anything else.

So, there he is in the range, practicing. His shots mostly miss but every now and again he gets somewhere and he's encouraged to go farther. He gives a little laugh of victory and surprise in these moments. Hopefully he's not interrupting anything.

Of course in all his focus, anyone interrupting him is almost certain to make him jump and yelp and send and arrow flying far off target.

F - OTA

At some point before the library's closing for the night, he's managed to surround himself so thoroughly in books that he's built something of a wall around himself. His hand is half tangled in his hair and his brow is knit with concentration, pencil tapping absentmindedly in his other hand as he reads. The books seem to be all about defensive and offensive runes and spells.

"Wait, what?" He straightens up, flipping pages back, and then to his current page, comparing them. "That doesn't make sense, how can you-- what?"

G -[Closed to Orihime]

"Orihime?"

The call comes with a knock. Finally, at long last, he can repay this girl. He's ready at her door, smiling in his newly repaired clothing and holding a bag of tools and materials (nabbed from the shop class as usual).

As the door opens he laughs and say, "Repair service! Is now a good time?"

H - St. Valentine's eve - [Closed to close CR and/or those who ask first]

He's only been here so long, only saved up so much and a lot of it goes towards his hopeful plans. But for this, he can spare a small expense.

The shopkeeper had eyed him curiously, as exhausted and nervous as he'd appeared to be that morning of the thirteenth, pushing the limits of his magic into the day. He knows, in some sense, that he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.

But it's the first time in ten years he could do anything and... well, she deserves something. After ten years she deserves so much and a simple carnation or rose just isn't cutting it. Even this doesn't quite but... he can't push more, because even with this, the best gift he could give is his distance.

The note simply reads "for Imelda Rivera" in fancy calligraphic script. He presses the tiny card to his lips then places it back into the bouquet. It's a bright one, colorful, with full, giant blooms. There's soft pinks and bright ones, oranges and reds and blues, greenery, and vivid purples-- her favorite. It'll remind her of home, he's sure.

Off he goes into the night, bringing his delivery to the Lumiere dorms. He just needs to leave it at her door and go. So far so good. He won't get to see her reaction like this, but that's fine. She doesn't need to be happy with him, he just needs her to be happy. That's what he tells himself as he slowly and quietly works his way back, turns the corner-- and freezes, a deer in headlights as the second worst thing that could happen here, does.

I - Other, Make your own

Comments

[made_up_names]

He really, really doesn't understand the point of a curfew, clearly.

"Oh," he says, contemplating this more now. "I'd say I'm really good at getting myself back out of trouble no matter what time it is but..."

Well. These past few weeks have sure disproved that.

[unpocoloco]

"Trouble here is bigger than trouble used to be," He finishes with a wry look, some hint of exhaustion hidden there underneath. It's been a long couple of weeks for both of them. "I think that's true for all of us, even you."

That is part of what this school is about, isn't it? Stop the coming night, everyone joining forces. As distant and abstract as that threat might feel, things were definitely getting more... intense. Comparatively, for Earth.

"We could probably all use a little help. I'm working on a few things myself."

[made_up_names]

"You are? Really?"

No offense, Héctor, but he's seen your combat skills. Or, more accurately, his complete lack thereof.

[unpocoloco]

He covers his face with a hand and says, "Don't laugh. Promise me you won't."

And yet, despite that, he's laughing a little himself.

[made_up_names]

He ... uh. Makes a face. That looks like he's trying to stifle a laugh.

"Okay, okay," he says. "No laughing. You got it."

[unpocoloco]

He eyes Peter through his fingers, distrusting. The draws a breath.

"Archery. I'm trying archery. And rune and spell work too of course but..."

[made_up_names]

That distrust is well-placed, okay. A snort escapes him; he barely manages to clamp down a full laugh.

"Do you shoot arrows or your arm?"

[unpocoloco]

"Hey, hey! You promised!" Laughing, he gives Peter's shoulder a shove.

"I'm using arrows," He confirms then with a huff. "The school has an archery set I can borrow and practice with. I figure since I'm as good with my aim when I do use my arm, I should be able to pick this up too."

[made_up_names]

Okay, okay, he deserves that shove. He grins up at Héctor in return, still trying to keep back laughter.

"I guess that does make sense," he says. "I'm surprised you have the arm strength for it."

[unpocoloco]

"Yeah, about that..." He grimaces. "It's a real close call there. I don't know if I can get stronger? Nothing I do changes me at all, really. I'm pretty stalled out. I'm thinking maybe sticking some kind of rune on it to make it lighter or easier somehow..."

A pause follows before he adds, "And shooting anything as a skeleton is a write off anyway. I do that and I'm definitely going to be shooting half of me across the ground instead."

[made_up_names]

"Yeah, uh. That's just physics."

But when Héctor mentions sticking a rune on it ... That lights him up with some ideas. "There's stuff like that," he says. "And besides that, there's ways to build you a bow that's probably easier to use."

[unpocoloco]

He gives an eyeroll. Okay smarty pants, he gets it.

But then he blinks. And grins. "You want to make me a bow?" He asks, both amused and honestly intrigued by the idea. "You think you can do that for me, chamaco?"

[made_up_names]

"Well sure," he says. "There was a bow guy on the Avengers. I didn't talk to him much, but." He'd at least gotten a chance to see what the dude could do. Runed arrows up the wazoo. "I could totally build you something similar to what he had."

[unpocoloco]

He manages not to grimace at the mention of the Avengers, smiling tight intead. But other than that, he look genuinely excited.

"Well, alright, lets do this! Lets plan this out!" He says. "What do I need to get for you? My budget is dumpsters and very occasionally a paycheck that isn't going toward my old fines."

[made_up_names]

Good Héctor. If you ruin it for him that bow probably won't happen.

"That's my budget too," he says, minus the. Uh. Wait, what. "You've got fines? I thought you were dead."

[unpocoloco]

He makes a face at Peter, because really.

"I am," He says. "Just not, you know, legally. That's kind of the issue when you're hiding the fact you're dead, you can't walk out on whatever the police give you for loitering or disturbing the peace." He rolls his eyes, showing just what he thinks of that. "I might have got out of it if I'd ever let them finish an autopsy but oooh no, that's not happening."

[made_up_names]

Jeez, Héctor. Peter shakes his head at that.

"So technically you're a criminal, huh. I should probably be putting you in jail."

[unpocoloco]

He's just going to make another face at Peter. A nice long deadpanned stare, complete with slow blinks.

[made_up_names]

He's teasing, Héc. Jeez. As evidenced by this shit-eating grin.

"But I guess I'll just try and keep you out of trouble by building you weapons instead," he says. "Long as you don't mind the first couple iterations probably sucking."

[unpocoloco]

He snorts. "Keeping me out of trouble, that's a new one," He teases back.

But he shakes his head. "I don't mind. It sounds fun. Just maybe don't make anything that's gonna break me, I'm a brittle man."

[made_up_names]

"That's the whole idea," he says, a thoughtful look overcoming him. Where'd his notebook go? Oh yeah, over here. He stoops to retrieve it. "I'm gonna need measurements and stuff."

[unpocoloco]

"Oh! Yeah, sure. You got any kind of measuring tape? I can give you my height but that's about what I know." Who goes and measures their arms? Except insecure teenage boys who want to be a little bigger than they can ever genetically be. Thankfully, that wasn't him, because he always had Ernesto to compare to and realize the guy still looked like a doofus to him.

[made_up_names]

"Oh, yeah," he says, getting to his feet. "It's in my room. Gimme a second."

He'll ditch his stuff for a second to go retrieve it.

[unpocoloco]

"I'll be right here," He promises, leaning back against the couch as Peter takes off.

A thought occurs, with Peter out of view. It's something to try. Maybe, it'll help them-- he, May, Gwen-- work some things out.

As soon as Peter returns, he greets, "Welcome back."

[made_up_names]

It turns out that Peter's measuring tape is actually a long piece of string he's wrapped around a dowel, with little flags for the measurement increments. But it'll work, okay. He'll get right to work if Héctor doesn't mind.

"Thanks," he says brightly. "Looks like everything's still here."