raisetheearth | How can I help you today?

Lazarus Lawliet sees living in Shepherd's Haven as a privilege. He works often and hard and while he still has money from echoes leftover, he doesn't properly accept it for his labor. His work ethic is fantastic even if his business sense is somewhat lacking; he once identified proudly as a Communist in his younger days and he perhaps still finds the idea of a society where everyone contributes what they can and takes what they need highly appealing. While he would never ask anyone else to live that way, he's happy to set the example by expressing, through deeds, that helping to run this community is payment enough.

So he's a little bit bewildered when he comes across "Dewdrops N' Clovers". He tilts his head and approaches it.

"You're running a for-profit business here?" he asks, entering and glancing around. "I don't have a problem with it, but... you realize that the people who spend the most time here have the least money, don't you? You might do better setting up shop in Christchurch or Woodend."

Still, he looks around at the offerings. He does have a girlfriend, and can't help but think that maybe she'd appreciate being given a bouquet.

Jacob observes as Lazarus walks in. He looks a bit familiar to him, having seen his face on the Network a few times. He's seen how this guy behaves and doesn't generally feel threatened. However, Lazarus' first words to Jacob causes him to raise his eyebrows. He bites back his snark and just trades another smile. This is a customer, let's not get sassy.

"Actually, I do try to make it affordable to anyone. Locally grown and all that jazz. Any kind of flower you're looking for? Or a message you're trying to convey? Dressing to impress or just for the scenery?"

As he watches Lazarus look around, he does try to read the body language. Is he depressed? Does he need to fix a relationship? Is there a birthday? Or simply just because? Of course, his observations he'll keep silent, unless otherwise needed. It just allows for the proper arrangement of the flowers.

Lazarus is, to say the least, kind of an odd duck. He is too pale and two thin, with mixed asian and european ancestry and shabby clothes that have a way of accentuating his stark, harsh angles. He wears all black, with skinny jeans, steel-toed boots and asymmetrical edges, favoring a somewhat post-apocalyptic aesthetic that makes him look more than a little bit unapproachable. His posture is hunched and his steps are quiet and slow despite the boots.

"Nothing in particular. I don't know much about flowers," Lazarus admits, looking at a bunch of pink roses as though they're an artifact beyond his understanding. "I guess... something for a girl," he decides with a one-shouldered shrug. "To maintain, rather than to seduce. That part's done," he adds blithely.

Jacob has to fight back a snicker. The way Lazarus is just open about his... success with his relationship, and how he says it. It's the better part for catching him off guard.

"Certainly," he says, noticing Lazarus' gaze at the roses. "So, it's a simple 'I love you,' then? Maybe with a hint of 'forever yours'?"

He starts cutting a yellow cellophane and a pink ribbon. He places them in just such a way on the counter that the flowers will be easy to wrap.

"And how many flowers would you like, sir?"

He heads over to the flowers, eyeing them carefully before choosing which blend to use.

The question, though simple and innocent, seems to strike a pensive and uncertain chord with the man. Clearly, nothing is actually very "simple" about this, at all, and now he's rethinking it like someone who's been reminded of an unfortunate drawback to an otherwise great deal.

"Love...? ...forever?"

He stares hard at the roses.

"...I'm actually not sure. About either of those. I want to be, before I commit to that kind of bouquet."

He's so lost in thought that he appears to be stymied and he's not answering the question about how many flowers yet. Jacob, dude, you might have lost this sale.

Jacob raises both of his eyebrows. Who wants to maintain a relationship with a girl you're not in love with? You sound like a player, man. Jacob stifles a sigh.

"Alright, we can change it to 'I sincerely care' and 'I like your smile'. How does that sound?"

Of course, Jacob isn't exactly comfortable with the thought that Lazarus seems to be running a facade, but, what are you going to do? He trades out the yellow cellophane for a light green instead, but not cutting it this time until Lazarus is okay with it. He is, however, keeping the pink ribbon out.

"I'll even give you a half bouquet for one dollar, or a full for two, if that sounds fair to you. Or we can barter, if you need it lower."

A player at first glance, maybe, but actual players tend to be a little less conflicted about their reindeer games. Still, he senses that he's being judged a little bit, and the way Jacob words his suggestions confirms it.

"Condescending," he answers dryly. "I like her a lot, OK? 'Love' is just a strange word to me. It's not one I really use. And I want the full bouquet," he ascertains firmly, as if insulted by the idea that he'd settle for half.

"...is $2 really a fair price?" he asks. "I mean... I can't imagine you're even operating at cost like this, and given the location, this might well be the only sale you make today."

'Condescending' he says. As if he didn't just walk in here questioning why Jacob's shop exists. Nevermind it. Jacob puffs a light laugh through his nose. Ha, you mad, bro?

"Don't be offended by it. Full bouquet is is."

He cuts the light green cellophane and then heads back to the flowers. He carefully picks out six of the pink roses and six stalks of lavender, along with a selection of leaves. He puts them in a vase as he arranges them Into something simple, but pretty. He wraps the cellophane around them and ties the ribbon carefully before removing the ensemble from the vase. He cuts off a small portion of the stems before setting them on the counter in Lazarus' direction.

"This should make her happy, then. Gentle affections."

He listens to Lazarus' question.

"I give the fairest prices I can. Sometimes, if a customer can pay more, I'm happy to accept the offer. It's more important to me that people give the ones they love something beautiful, or something to cheer themselves up with, before what we treasure might be gone." He says it softly, but not sadly. It brings back memories of his childhood, but they're warm thoughts, now, not thoughts of loss.

Whether or not he's mad, he keeps his expression blank and docile. "Offended? Nonsense. I don't take offense, easily," he says, going for the wallet he carries less out of necessity these days and more out of habit. He hasn't touched cash in forever, and as he watches Jacob arrange a bouquet that he's actually pretty pleased with, he pulls out a $20 bill and tosses it on the counter.

He doesn't comment on the use of the word "love" again. "Is that what happened to you, then? The reason you're here, you lost something you treasured...?"

Jacob picks up the twenty and starts breaking it into change. He lays three fives and three ones on the counter. He wasn't sure if the change was to be kept, due to the previous conversation, but he let it sit in a way that Lazarus could take or leave it without creating any offense. He stares at Lazarus for a moment before deciding how to answer the new question.

"I suppose you could say that. My sister. Er, the eldest one. She passed away when I was a kid. Taught me my first steps in arranging flowers. I didn't get to show her a bouquet that I made just for her that day, with her teachings." He leans on the counter a little as he talks. He's used to questions about his looks, not his personal lifestyle. "She loved flowers, and I do my best with them everyday. That's why I'm here. Income doesn't bother me too much. It can be hard sometimes, but if I can help anyone, I value that more."

He gives a genuine smile this time, as he tosses the stem pieces into a compost pile, and gently cleans up the counter.

"That's a one hundred percent satisfaction guarantee, there. If she doesn't like them, bring them back. I'll make a bouquet with any meaning and flower for you."

He sets his business card before Lazarus, entailing a few of the store's detail on it.

Lazarus ignores the change; though he's lousy at demonstrating what he really means sometimes, this should be relatively clear. He wants Jacob to keep it all, considering what he charges far too low for the service he's attempting to provide.

"Sorry to hear about your sister," he says, surprisingly empathetic for someone with his mannerisms and brusque vocal practices. He cares far more about personal things than he does about looks, which might not be terribly surprising given his own very strange appearance. "But I commend you for wanting to help people. It happens that that's also my goal, even if it can be hard sometimes. And I won't bring them back... if she doesn't like them, that's really more my fault than yours, for not knowing her well enough to give useful instructions."

He still takes the business card.

"So, if it isn't crass to ask... how did your sister die?"

Jacob is honestly impressed with Lazarus' interest in his personal life. Didn't really strike him as something that the man would be interested in him. Lazarus seems more like one of those kids who sits in the attic all day, reading books, if he had to peg him to something. But, then, Lazarus does have a girlfriend. Guess he's more social than he looks.

"Illness," he said promptly. "She was sick for a long time. I didn't have the ability to understand exactly what she had then, or why she couldn't survive it. I didn't bother to ask later, either. But, thank you. Her memory is one I cherish dearly."

He stares at Lazarus for a long moment, as though giving something a hard thought. He shrugs it off and decides on something else. It's not like he's getting a customer right this second, so he'll talk if Lazarus wants to.

"You like helping people, too, huh? How do you go about yours?" he asks with genuine interest.

Some people think of Lazarus as a nosy person who has no business poking and inquiring about such personal details. Others think of him as a genuinely good listener who is interested in helping. Maybe both are a little bit true.

"I suppose, curiosity aside, it doesn't matter in the end," he says softly. "Death is, in the end, that great equalizer and final result, and unles someone is at clear fault, there's no point dwelling on the irreversible details. If you cherish her memory, that's the best shot at immortality mere humans have, right?"

He stares right back; he knows when he's being studied and makes no effort to ignore it when it happens. Maybe it's a challenge, too, wondering if he'll ask the obvious questions about a life that's left marks on his skin and behind his hollow, dark eyes. Instead, it's a fairly harmless one, even if the answer's not one he likes facing head on.

"I like it," he allows, still making no move to take his change. "But lately I haven't been so great at it. My attempts seem to backfire spectacularly. At best, they result in harmless embarrassment, and at worst... well, things get worse. Before the War, I guess things were different, and that's the only reason anyone listens to what I say now."

"Immortality, huh? That's pretty deep. I suppose I never really thought about it that way. Kind of sweet, too." Maybe I was wrong about you. Not such a player afterall. "I suppose you're right, too."

He heads over to the cash, then, and tucks it in a metal box under the counter before continuing the conversation.

"Before the war... You've been a Numbered for a long time, then. Do you know why they backfire? If it's not usually working out, could it be something you're not seeing? I don't think people would blindly put their trust in someone, especially if they're Numbered and after everything happened. So, what might be so different from then until now to make helping more difficult?"

Lazarus seems like he doesn't quite understand or agree with the description of his words as "deep," but at any rate, it seems to be something that Jacob takes some comfort in. He therefore lets it slide without argument, pondering whether or not he's actually capable of a sentiment approaching "sweet."

"I've been Numbered since... well, it'd be almost three years now," he says quietly. "Actively, anyway. I got my first pulse when I was half my current age, but then there was a dry spell of about 12 years. I'm not sure how to explain that, as it's atypical, but... no one's experience is exactly the same." It's a good way to prattle on and avoid the real question, but that has its limits.

"It's to do with people and not understanding them as well as I think I do, or wish I did," he admits. "But a lot of us aren't being particularly active. By seeking out a life of peace, we're resting on our laurels and foregoing great deeds for safety, isolation, and... admittedly, some boredom. I don't mind leading when no one else is stepping up, but when it comes to it, I don't know if my role in this community feels right."

Jacob quickly does the math in his head. Damn, this kid's nearly pushing his thirties, then?You'd never tell with his looks. Echoes are funny things. Jacob knows how much he's changed himself. And then Lazarus says how the experience is unique to everyone and he gives a puff of air.

"Too bad there's no manual for the damn things, huh? Of course, all things considered, there's no way something like that could exist, right?" Not for the short notice in which it was needed. Who has a manual on past lives and how to use them before you learn yourself?

Jacob hesitates on his suggestion of study and psychology, not really thinking it will help. Lazarus may not even be looking for suggestions.

"I see, so the heroism is done and everyone just wants to be normal. I suppose that's not such a bad wish. When it comes to your 'role', do you feel honour-bound or obligated?"

He'll be 28 in October, but he absolutely looks like he could pass for a rangy late teen or early twenties. He's skinny and saucer-eyed enough, his build isn't particularly masculine, and if it weren't for an awkward and prominent Adam's apple, he might look like a rail thin and very homely girl.

"There are patterns you can pick up if you look hard enough..." he suggests, tugging at the dark hairs at the back of his head absentmindedly. "We've put together a handbook of sorts that we like to link new Numbers to, but... there's still so much we don't know about this process, even after meeting the Boy."

He seems conflicted about Jacob's conclusion. "Just being normal isn't something we'll ever had. Here we have the illusion, but it's just that," he says quietly. "Someday, this place could be attacked and we could all be killed, even with powered guardians. As for my 'role'..." he pauses. "Well, what's the difference, anyway? Between honor-bound and obligation."

Jacob gives a puzzled look.

"The Boy?" He hadn't heard that part of the story yet. Jacob thinks for a moment on how to get his hands on the 'handbook' without outright asking for it.

Jacob takes a breath before answering.

"There can be a huge difference. Obligation means not wanting to, but feel like you have to. Honour-bound means it's your code, your right, what you live by. And, usually the path that would make you happiest if you followed it. Sometimes, the needs of the one must outweigh the needs of the many. If you can't take care of yourself, you can't help anyone. Sometimes, it's okay to put what you actually want first, not what you feel like you have to do to make anyone or everyone else happy."

"Yes... it was something we actually had to leave the Earth for. We basically had to argue that humans deserved to survive. The most stressful day of my life, and have some contenders," Lazarus says, eyes distant. "He was both young and ageless. A child god, so many parts capricious whims and emotion."

Lazarus wants to think that he has an honor code, but so much of it might just be his own neurotic fears controlling him. He has to gently level every such thought.

"...are you implying that I don't take care of myself?"

"A child God," Jacob muses. "I bet that wasn't easy to reason with. I can only imagine how stressful it would be. It's amazing that you got through it. How did you manage to prove it, if you don't mind my asking?"

Jacob gives a warm smile and tilts his head slightly. It's not condescending or patronizing. It's a simple gesture of truth.

"I'm implying that maybe you forget about yourself while trying to take care of everyone else. It's called trying too hard. Most people do it at some point in their lives. Just remind yourself it's okay to breathe."

"It was a long and involved process, but what it came down to was just... finding common ground. Talking of things like parents and love, about what you might expect from the kind of scenario that would require a creature like him to change his view. My contribution was essentially... well, I like to think of it of having been plagued by horrible luck my entire life and still wanting very much to live, in spite of it."

And even though that wasn't always true.

"...that's helpful advice, even though I've heard it before. I'll keep it in mind."

That explains why the kid probably looks more frail than he should. Though, certainly inspiring to some degree. People that can pull through despite how bad the hand they've been dealt may be, it earns a level of sympathy and respect from Jacob.

"I can only hope your luck has gotten better since then. And if not, then hopefully soon."

Jacob isn't sure whether he's being honest about the 'helpful advice,' or just brushing it off. He decides to offer further advice, not really in a 'glad to help' way, but more of a way to drive the point home.

"And some more helpful advice you've probably heard before: take it one day at a time. Nothing wrong with being prepared, but even then, there's no one-hundred percent preparation and you'll just look paranoid if you try."

Lazarus may have inspired people in his life. He certainly hopes so. They're things he talks about seldom, preferring to look to the future rather than dwelling on the past, and though he's accustomed to sympathy, respect is still fairly new.

"It's gotten much better," he answers with a pale smile. "Even through everything that happened a little over a year ago, I'm probably happier than I've ever been."

He seems surprised at the further advice being offered, but he does listen to it, albeit with a somewhat quizzical expression on his face. "That's how I've managed so far," he replies softly. "Not always without looking paranoid, but that's a different story, and a longer one."

"Well, that's good, I'm glad you're much better off." He gives a warm smile in return.

He listens to Lazarus and nods.

"Well, I'm always up for a good story. However, you probably have someone waiting for you at home to give her a pleasant surprise."

He is, of course, indicating the flowers. And, though he would genuinely like to hear more about Lazarus's story, it's also important that the flowers stay fresh.

"Come again, sometime. I look forward to it."

"A good story? I don't know if it qualifies as that, but I do hope we talk again," he says softly, taking the flowers and gathering them into his arms. "Thank you for your help, and good luck with your business. I hope you do well enough in Shepherd's Haven to stay."

Jacob nods at Lazarus's thanks.

"Thanks, I'm sure I will. Take care."

He gives that friendly smile again and watches as Lazarus leaves the store, letting the door fully close before rearranging some of the arrangements behind him, carefully checking for wilted flowers.

How can I help you today?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject