Day 309 [Open]

[dontyoujustwish]

Who: Anya, Ibuki, Patchouli, and anyone else!
Open: Open! Mostly.
When: Day 309
Where: All over the Bastion
What: SNOW!
Format: I'll match
Warnings: It's Anya.

[For Ibuki and Patchouli]
[Sometime after lunch, Anya takes off to look for two of her best lady friends with a spellbook under her arm and some key ingredients in her pockets.

She's quite cheerful about it, a little oblivious to whatever else might have been going on lately. Cheerful, and insistent. She will track you down.]


[Open to All]
[Later in the day, Bastionites may be surprised to look up and notice that... it's snowing. Not only that, but the temperature has dropped.

At least in the more southerly parts of the Bastion. The farmlands might get a few sporadic flurries, but it isn't cold enough there to stick.

So if you've been missing snowmen or snowball fights or any of those activities that require winter to happen, now's your chance. It's probably not going to last very long.]

((OOC: And feel free to just use this post for mingling!]

Comments

[2/2]

[darkshooter]

[why, look who it is. There's already another snowball in her hands, gripped between the both of them, but she doesn't look ready to throw it. For that matter, she doesn't appear even a little bit dismayed that her 'surprise' attack was apparently seen through.]

[Instead, she gives a brisk, slight nod.]

As expected, engineer.

[freedom_engineer]

[No doubt it helps that he only caught ONE snowball, and got pasted by the others.]

[Still, he seems in high enough spirits.]

I see you're enjoying the gifts of our magically inclined. At least, I assume it's magic. I haven't seen anyone bothering the monument for chilly weather. ... In spite of the fact that Paarthurnax would apparently enjoy it.

[It's hard to miss the giant dragon FROLICKING through the snow.]

You making friends?

[darkshooter]

[It does, though not in the way you might think. Rather than leading her to assume any victory on her part, this makes your victory all the more complete. You allowed them to strike you as a sign of your own superiority: surely you could have defeated them with the same ease, but simply did not feel the effort worthwhile. Rather than cockiness like some might assume, she sees this as mastery - hence the compliment. Old World thinking, right?]

[Meanwhile: in apparent response, her eyes slip down to look at her snowball, but just as quickly they're back to him.]

It's a game. They showed me.

[freedom_engineer]

[Finally, SOMEONE gets it. He doesn't mind taking a few lumps, so long as he wins in the end.]

Not at all surprising. It seems there's a lot of that going around right now. Snowballs are a culturally uniform thing, easy to translate. I'm glad you're finding it agreeable enough to take part.

Careful, though.

[He nods in the direction of the farmland, another reason why he preferred to let the snowballs hit him rather than pass. He's not upset with her, just making sure she knows the situation.]

I'm watching over the plants to make sure they don't get cold. Snow is dangerous to many kinds of plantlife, and this is our food supply.

[darkshooter]

[It's the way our old neighborhood was run. Confidence wasn't usually groundless there; those with such belief often possessed the prowess to justify it, but "well-founded" didn't mean "insurmountable." Even the self-assured could be brought down. Just look at Dead Master.]

[...it takes her a moment to sort it, but the right pieces do click. Another nod, and (perhaps thankfully) it's an understanding one.]

I will be careful.

[freedom_engineer]

[Colin gives her a smile, and he gives the snowball an under-handed toss in her direction. Easy enough to catch, if she wants. If she doesn't, it'll paff right against her chest.]

Good to hear it. You know anything of farming where you're from?

[/2]

[darkshooter]

[Oh-]

[Her hands are open, and she moves to catch--!]

[darkshooter]

[Success! But she does give just a bit of a quizzical look when she's back to normal stance, holding the ball between her hands once again. "Why did you do that? That's not how you play this."]

[She lets it pass.]

Cultivation. My world had no need of it.

[freedom_engineer]

[That's not how YOU play it. Colin makes his own rules to games and tends to play by them all the time. Don't worry, you'll get used to that sooner or later.]

Hmmm, I see.

[He gives a slight nod.]

What do you sustain yourself on? Lithovore, perhaps? Or something more abstract?

[He regards her curiously. She doesn't SEEM to be an atmospheric grazer or a energy siphon... Possibly an emotional feeder? Interesting puzzle, and he hopes she provides an answer.]

[/2]

[darkshooter]

[Fair enough. We only know the rules we've been taught, after all.]

[...it is a disturbing question you pose. Normally, she disregards such things; they simply aren't relevant to her processes and concerns, and so she goes on without thinking of them. But humans...humans consumed to sustain themselves. She knows that she is not human, though she has their shape. Maintaining oneself in any sense simply wasn't ever a concern.]

[Nevertheless, she thinks on it. And, it turns out...]

[darkshooter]

I do not know.

...My world had no need of it.

[Or so her memory says. It is a deliberate and conscious repeating of her earlier answer, no mere slip.]

[freedom_engineer]

Everything needs maintenance, sustenance of some sort. Even the Silicoids need to eat a rock every now and then.

[He keeps right on regarding her curiously.]

Ambient feeder, perhaps. You seem to be tuned to combat, so perhaps it's the act which vitalizes you?

Or perhaps I'm way off base with the estimation. I don't have nearly enough information, and your world almost certainly plays by different rules...

[He waves it off.]

A puzzle for another time. Ignore me. CAN you eat? It seems a shame to not have sampled some of the fine meals you can have in life.

[darkshooter]

...It could be...

[But that might suggest her kind would die without fighting one another, and as far as she knew that was never so. True, going too long without contest resulted in restlessness, at least in her, but then...those others in the world, they who were not quite as powerful as the more noteworthy fighters - how did they get along?]

[Even death did not seem to work the same way. The slain returned, and that as all. Like everything else about her home, it was something she never questioned - there was never so much as a prompt to notice it. ...Everything about where she came from seems to have been...rather singular.]

[His last question brings her back to attention. And, of course, it is something else she never considered.]

I have not...tested.