The Emissary ♈ Aradia Megido (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
emissaries) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thebastion2015-01-17 08:29 pm
emissaries) wrote in thebastion2015-01-17 08:29 pm
Day 270 ♈ Open
Who: The Emissary and you~
Open: Open
When: Day 270, afternoon to late night
Where: various locations within the Bastion
What: The Emissary runs errands, does crafts, and pesters people. Not necessarily in that order.
Format: starting with prose, will follow
Warnings: talk of death and the departed?
[A. Here and There - afternoon]
Aradia's first stop today had been the Monument. There were a couple of things she'd been meaning to have it make for her for a while, and now that she had enough shards, it was well past time she did. She couldn't just keep Sollux and Tavros's ashes loose in her sylladex indefinitely.
So now she had the urns themselves, and some paints to decorate them. So now all that remained was to find a good place to sit and work on them. Well, she wasn't 100% familiar with all the buildings yet, so this was as good a time as any to go exploring once again. She could be found poking her head in just about anywhere - the Workshop, the Arsenal, the Cannery, the Distillery, and so on - actually, she might stick around a while longer at the Distillery. She could certainly appreciate the value of a good stiff drink now and again.
((Feel free to pick an anywhere, she'll be all over the place. Just let me know where at!))
[B. The Memorial - evening]
By evening, though, she'd found just the place. It was quiet, out of the way... and already devoted to the dead. The seven urns in the center were proof of that if nothing else. She took some time to pay her respects to these, even though it was nobody she knew, and her amulet didn't grant her the ability to read their names. Just the same, they must have been important to somebody.
When she finished with that, she found a spot that seemed sufficiently out of the way, and took a seat on the floor with the first black urn in her lap and the second standing nearby. A grease-stained towel was spread over her legs to protect her skirt, at least from the paint, though nothing protected it from the towel itself, she supposed. Still, it would do. She squeezed a little of the yellow paint onto her brush and got to work.
[C. The Tower Apartment - night, for Psii and Di]
It had been dark for several hours when Aradia returned to the apartment on the top floor, but she doubted she'd be disturbing her blockmates too much, if they were even in. They were every bit as nocturnal as herself, after all.
Whatever decorations the Disciple and Psiioniic had added to the place, Aradia hadn't embellished the space at all, leaving her respiteblock just as spartan as when she'd first arrived. She'd been considering it a temporary lodging, not wanting to impose on their human hosts, but more than three weeks had passed now, and her fellow trolls showed no real intention of going anywhere. And why should they? The other survivors had made them welcome, and they were all three more than capable of pulling their weight. Besides, this was probably the most comfortable settlement that existed, unless there was another Monument out there somewhere.
But ... it had been ages since Aradia stayed in one place for any significant length of time. Even in the three sweeps she'd spent in the Medium, there'd been twelve planets, Prospit and Derse, and the Battlefield to explore, all of them with their own puzzles and ruins and mysteries. They'd been on the move almost constantly, never built a home base, never settled down and joined a community. In fact, she could hardly remember the last time she'd actually joined a community. It was such a commitment.
Yet here she was, a hair's breadth from joining one. Hell, maybe she had already joined it without realizing. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. They were kind enough, and better neighbors than many, but one way or another she knew she would have to leave them eventually, whether she did it by choice or by necessity. Or by simply outliving them. Or dying, which could certainly happen. And what then?
Lost in thought, she reached the top of the stairs and turned the key to enter apartment B.
Open: Open
When: Day 270, afternoon to late night
Where: various locations within the Bastion
What: The Emissary runs errands, does crafts, and pesters people. Not necessarily in that order.
Format: starting with prose, will follow
Warnings: talk of death and the departed?
[A. Here and There - afternoon]
Aradia's first stop today had been the Monument. There were a couple of things she'd been meaning to have it make for her for a while, and now that she had enough shards, it was well past time she did. She couldn't just keep Sollux and Tavros's ashes loose in her sylladex indefinitely.
So now she had the urns themselves, and some paints to decorate them. So now all that remained was to find a good place to sit and work on them. Well, she wasn't 100% familiar with all the buildings yet, so this was as good a time as any to go exploring once again. She could be found poking her head in just about anywhere - the Workshop, the Arsenal, the Cannery, the Distillery, and so on - actually, she might stick around a while longer at the Distillery. She could certainly appreciate the value of a good stiff drink now and again.
((Feel free to pick an anywhere, she'll be all over the place. Just let me know where at!))
[B. The Memorial - evening]
By evening, though, she'd found just the place. It was quiet, out of the way... and already devoted to the dead. The seven urns in the center were proof of that if nothing else. She took some time to pay her respects to these, even though it was nobody she knew, and her amulet didn't grant her the ability to read their names. Just the same, they must have been important to somebody.
When she finished with that, she found a spot that seemed sufficiently out of the way, and took a seat on the floor with the first black urn in her lap and the second standing nearby. A grease-stained towel was spread over her legs to protect her skirt, at least from the paint, though nothing protected it from the towel itself, she supposed. Still, it would do. She squeezed a little of the yellow paint onto her brush and got to work.
[C. The Tower Apartment - night, for Psii and Di]
It had been dark for several hours when Aradia returned to the apartment on the top floor, but she doubted she'd be disturbing her blockmates too much, if they were even in. They were every bit as nocturnal as herself, after all.
Whatever decorations the Disciple and Psiioniic had added to the place, Aradia hadn't embellished the space at all, leaving her respiteblock just as spartan as when she'd first arrived. She'd been considering it a temporary lodging, not wanting to impose on their human hosts, but more than three weeks had passed now, and her fellow trolls showed no real intention of going anywhere. And why should they? The other survivors had made them welcome, and they were all three more than capable of pulling their weight. Besides, this was probably the most comfortable settlement that existed, unless there was another Monument out there somewhere.
But ... it had been ages since Aradia stayed in one place for any significant length of time. Even in the three sweeps she'd spent in the Medium, there'd been twelve planets, Prospit and Derse, and the Battlefield to explore, all of them with their own puzzles and ruins and mysteries. They'd been on the move almost constantly, never built a home base, never settled down and joined a community. In fact, she could hardly remember the last time she'd actually joined a community. It was such a commitment.
Yet here she was, a hair's breadth from joining one. Hell, maybe she had already joined it without realizing. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. They were kind enough, and better neighbors than many, but one way or another she knew she would have to leave them eventually, whether she did it by choice or by necessity. Or by simply outliving them. Or dying, which could certainly happen. And what then?
Lost in thought, she reached the top of the stairs and turned the key to enter apartment B.