ioduanlogs | Inside my brain, I, too, have fire.

Entry tags:

Inside my brain, I, too, have fire.

Characters: Gene Khan, Jackie Ma, Miles Upshur, Aly Haskell, and y'all
Date: throughout May
Location: Aifaran and environs
Situation: May the 4th be with you...?
Warnings/Rating: Will be added as necessary

[A] | Gene | throughout Aifaran | throughout May | open
Emboldened by his and Tony's talk about employment, Gene's looking at places to set up shop. He wants somewhere in a reasonably high-traffic area, but he also wants to be realistic. They only have so much money, after all. The first priority was finding Tony somewhere to set up his mechanic/repair shop; the second would be finding a space to start a dojo again. Gene had liked teaching, and seemed to be pretty good at it. If he talked to Bakura and Valdis, maybe the three of them could pool their money and get a decent-sized building in a decent location.

He's in a better mood these days. He can also be found sitting in a teahouse or the cafeteria in the Dreaming Bridge with some tea, taking notes, sketching out potential floor plans for Tony's shop, and the dojo, and the potential place that he and Tony will live once they make more money. He wants to rebuild something like the house they used to have, even though he knows that'll take a while.

[B] | Jackie | the Golden Koi | throughout May | open
Jackie has scrimped and saved his rhinn and managed to get a loan for his business. What's he doing, you ask? Why, restarting his bar from back in Ye Olden Keeliai Days, the Golden Koi! It's small - he wasn't able to get a big loan - but he's doing his best! Come and say hello! (And please buy a drink, he needs to get in the black.)

[C] | Miles | throughout Aifaran | throughout May | open
There's a bit of a spring in Miles' step these days, and his camcorder's in his hand more often than in its holster. He's a journalist again! Freelance, as usual, but that doesn't matter. It's the life he's used to, and at least now he doesn't have to keep eating the local equivalent of Hot Pockets. Sure, he's still in the Dreaming Bridge, but now he can at least start saving some money. Just a little.

He's filming some B-roll throughout the city, and not necessarily looking where he's going since he's occasionally walking backwards. He might bump into you, he might not. (He may also bump into a wall, or a lamppost. His peripheral vision's a bit lacking when he's focused on his camcorder.)

Either way: Smile! You're on candid camera.

[D] | Aly | outside Aifaran | throughout May | open
There's an odd creature outside the city. Well - odder than the creatures already here. It's not native, to be sure. An Earth-native might recognize it as a maned wolf, but...hello, there's something different about it. It's got two spiraling gazelle horns coming out of its head.

And it's stalking some completely oblivious bibiru.

[E] | Aly | throughout Aifaran | throughout May | open
Aly's learned her lesson about parkour for now. Doesn't mean she doesn't go up on the rooftops every so often, especially at night. She likes to lie down and see the stars. They're strange here, but no stranger than they are Otherside, on the rare times she's been able to see them. The bubble they're in shines like the aurora borealis sometimes, and that makes her eyes water (she's not crying).

At other times, she's trying to be normal. She's trying to calm her anger down, and sometimes it even works. It's frowned upon to walk around obviously armed, but some days she takes her copper-headed mace with her, its iron core a deterrent to any faeries. You never could tell around here. She never, ever leaves her belt and its pouch behind, though. The antler knife inside it hurts a little to be near, and hurts worse for her to hold, but she won't risk being without it. It's death and blood, but it's necessary. And she works on sharpening it from time to time; not to harm anyone here, but for what she needs to do when she returns.

[F] | Miles | throughout Aifaran | early May | open | Faith 2
Splash!

"Aw, come on!" Some giggling kedan children dash away, leaving a thoroughly-soaked Miles behind. He checks his ever-present camcorder; good thing it's waterproof. "Why's everyone ganging up on me?" He's normally not averse to a good water balloon fight, but this is getting ridiculous. Mostly because he's completely unarmed. And because he's found out that the more he's getting hit, the more spiritually unclean people seem to think he is. Okay, that's fair, I guess. The Walrider was all science, but given its former worship, he and it could probably stand to be doused in holy water. Just...maybe on his own terms, for once?

[G] | Miles | a local bar | May 4 | closed to Kit
The beer-equivalent here does not taste like Pabst, which is a win in Miles' book. He has a rule against that. Sure, it's bright pink, but that's kind of cool. He's secure enough in his masculinity to drink pink beer. Especially because it actually tastes good.

"So, verdict on this stuff?"

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This bar has a nice enough veranda out back, providing a view of one of the slightly sketchier neighbourhoods in Aifaran. That's probably what Kit likes about it; you can take the duster kid out of Dust Town, etc.

The pink beer though? That's something else.

"I'm never going to get over how weird this place is." It's said with a lopsided grin, and Kit holds up his clear beer stein so that the light from the evening sun can spill through it, illuminating the rose-coloured liquid inside. He brings the mug to his mouth and takes a gulp from it, voices an indisputable sound of approval afterwards, and then sets it down. "Delicious--but weird. Still, I'll take this over beer back home any day. You know what you make beer from when you live underground?" A beat, a shake of his head, and then, "No, you don't, and you don't want to know. Trust me."

"I've been here for...shit, I guess a year now? Year and a half? And I don't think you ever get used to it," Miles says, and holds his mug out. "Cheers."

He takes a drink, and then grins at Kit. "Okay, you've done what you should never do, which is pique my curiosity. What do you make beer out of when you live underground? Is it some kind of fungus?"

"Rock." A smirk, another sip from the pink beer, and then a grim chuckle. "And lichen. And--yeah, from deep mushroom when you can harvest it. You've got to go into the Deep Roads for that, though, and most soft-as-moss artisans from the Orzammar Commons wouldn't last half a breath down there."

Not like him, of course. He jumped that particular shark and died first.

He sets the drink down and leans an elbow against the table, turning his face for a moment into the fading sunshine, then back towards Miles. "You miss it, where you're from?" he asks, regarding his new friend pensively.

Miles laughs a little and shakes his head. "Damn, now I can't make my joke about you being a fun guy." Fun guy, fungi...don't explain the joke, Miles.

But when Kit asks him that, he thinks for a moment, and then shrugs. "I miss my friends more than anything," he admits. "And yeah - I wouldn't mind being back home, but there are...worse places I could be." He absently drums the fingers of his left hand on the table - all the ones he has left, anyway. He's been missing the ring finger for so long that he's (obnoxiously) gotten used to it. Doesn't mean he likes it, but it is what it is.

"Damn, now I can't make my joke about you being a fun guy."

The joke is hilarious precisely because it is so terrible. Kit laughs, smiling, and replies, "Sure you can. I'll even act like it's the first time I'm hearing it." He lifts the pink beer up to take another swallow from it, but not before winking once. (It's a 'blink and you'll miss it' kind of gesture, but it's there.)

His expression grows contemplative when Miles speaks about his home, and what little homesickness he experiences. It's a relatable feeling; Kit's heart aches if he lets himself think about the people he left behind in Thedas for too long, but he's aware enough of how he came to be here to know that there is no going back for him.

"Can't beat the beaches here," he says with another smile, but this one doesn't quite dismiss the grave empathy in his eyes. A pause, before he brings the beer up again. "But yeah, I get it."

"Gotta agree with you on that point," Miles says. "Beaches back where I'm from are kind of...well, I grew up with some cold ones." He holds the beer up to clink against Kit's. "Cheers."

He'd caught that wink, and grins back in response. The subject had gotten heavy for just a second, but why dwell on it? The night's young and they have beer. Pink beer. Like palette-swapped St. Patrick's Day.

Kit would probably be down with green beer too, once someone took the time to ensure him it wasn't going to taste like moss or lichen.

"Cheers," he answers, lifting up his beer. That grin was a good sign, wasn't it? Finishing off one mug, he shifts to reach into his coat pocket and fetches out a well-worn deck of cards which sport suites that are understandably alien; it isn't like anyone plays Wicked Grace or Diamond Back outside of Thedas. "How do you feel about cards?" he asks, absently shuffling the deck like he could do it in his sleep. (He probably could.)

Unfortunately - well, annoyingly, really - for Miles, he can't really get drunk anymore. Alcohol is basically poisoning yourself, and the Walrider's replaced his immune system, so it attacks the alcohol. A little overzealous, but at least that means he can drink all he wants with no hangovers. (The taste of alcohol isn't his thing, though, so drinking without getting drunk is moot. This stuff tastes okay, though.)

"Sure, I can do cards," Miles says. "Wanna play Uno?"

MILES NO

It probably feels like Miles just backed into a wall this time around, or at least part of one, because it's small even if it's very, very solid. However, it's a weird kind of temperature for a wall to be.

It's actually a hand, as it turns out, belonging to someone with a mass of crystalline, red-orange hair, several holes in their torso filled in with gems of the same colour, and a faintly amused smile on their face. They're wearing their shirt open, so it's not hard to pick out the very obvious filled holes.

"It seems like a risky time to be wandering so inattentively, little one," they say, voice deep and amused. With the parasites still potentially being spread, there's a chance anyone could regret bumping into the wrong person.

Miles blinks. "Oh. Uh. Hi. Sorry about that." He at least has the good grace to look a little sheepish. He shuts off his camcorder and stows it in the holster he'd had made, and when he does, it's not hard to see that he's missing two fingers - all of his left ring finger, and most of his right index.

"Got a bad habit of not looking where I'm going."

"I can see that," Padparadscha says, smile faintly amused, but tone also not judging. Some people are just that sort of person, even among their own kind.

Their gaze passes over his hand, but considering how their people work, they're used to seeing people missing pieces, so their remark may not be the expected one.

"Have the human scientists not found a way to put you back together?"

Okay, that's a weird way to introduce yourself.

Miles is totally caught off guard, and says "Maybe if they'd had what was missing--" before stopping. Would a competent doctor - an actual doctor, not the sort of madman like Trager who'd done this to him in the first place - have been able to re-attach the missing digits if he'd had them? Maybe. Maybe not.

Probably not.

Padparadscha notices the reaction, and it belatedly occurs to them that this might be a more sensitive subject with living things, though they can't really imagine why. Still, they're quietly discontent enough about their own condition, so they suppose they can see why he would be too.

They offer a somewhat sympathetic smile, waving a hand over the filled holes in their torso. "Well, some of us will always be incomplete, huh? Poor things that we are, we have to live our lives anyway."

"That's just how it is, yeah," Miles agrees, and glances at whatever's going on with their torso. Not being versed in the ways of rock-people, he has no idea what that means, but it's probably some problem a lot like his own. "My sympathies, I guess. Or empathies. Uh, I feel you. Is what I'm trying to say."

Highly-respected investigative journalist here, folks!

At least his stumbling over the words just makes Padparadscha's smile look more amused, though they choose not to pick at it in words. Instead, their gaze shifts to his camcorder.

"What's that you're carrying around?" So far, they've only seen cameras as built into the yimo, not by themselves, so the device is a new sight.

At least the rock...person...looks a little amused. Miles has succeeded in making a fool of himself. All in a day's work.

"Huh?" Miles glances down at the camcorder. "Oh. This is my camera. It's practically attached to me, I never leave the house without it." Especially not these days.

"Camera?" Padparadscha's at least heard the word before, so they tilt their head a little, getting a better look at it. "The picture-capturing things built into the yimo, right? Is this what a dedicated one looks like?"

There's a calm curiosity to their tone, the image of someone who's taking the opportunity to learn more where they can.

"Yeah, this is what one looks like when it's all on its own," he says. "And it has been through a lot. Stronger than a yimo, I think. Definitely dropped this thing more."

He holds it up for a better look. "See, this is the eyepiece, and this is the lens."

Padparadscha leans in slightly for a closer look, though they keep their hands off it. They're not sure what it's made of or how strong it would be, even with his lauding of its resilience, so best not to risk damaging someone else's delicate technology.

"So this is more precise than they are when they're in something else. This is for your work?"

Gem society is founded on each gem having a certain role that suits them, so it's the first thing Padparadscha compares to when seeing him with what appears to be specialised equipment.

After some of the shit that had gone down in the city and lingering paranoia, Konoe decided to head outside the limits a bit where he felt more at home. The ocean was very peaceful to sit by, having never been near it by Sisa, but now he was fascinated by the myriad of creatures to hunt and plants to harvest.

Because of the food shortage in Sisa, he'd always been wary about taking too much or even eating any meat, but the Void didn't exist here and everything seemed to be plentiful. That meant for the first time in a long time, Konoe could hunt. So he did, crouching down and hiding himself in the grass when he spotted an unsuspecting bibiru. Unfortunately as he got closer, he realized that there was another, bigger creature also hunting the same prey.

Still completely still, Konoe focused his amber eyes on the wolf-like beast, growling low under his breath.

The nice thing about being the wolf was that Aly could choose to Not Think. If sensei was here, of course, he'd thrash her black and blue from here clear back to Otherside, but he wasn't, so he didn't, so she didn't care. And hunting was one way she could feel better about herself after that utter disaster last month with Devin.

(She always let the bibiru go, though. She was trying to practice stealth and speed, not hunt for food.)

A growl caught her attention, and she looked up, just a little. There was someone else who seemed to have the same idea. She bared her teeth just a little - the message was clear. Back off.

Well, looks like the strange wolf thing saw him. Konoe didn't back up, sniffing the air. Had he somehow wandered into someone's territory? It didn't smell like it, so he growled again, his fur puffed up. If he could get it away from HIS prey, he'd have a successful hunt, maybe. He was out of practice and somewhat hungry, too.

Konoe was not backing down, and instead was slowly reaching to pull out his sword.

Kids, man.

Zephyr doesn't exactly have a towel to offer, but he comes up beside the guy anyway, giving him a quick looking-over. "You all right?"

Not notably hurt, anyway. Zephyr shoves his hands in his pockets and glances after the kids. "This been happening a lot?" He did hear what Miles said about being ganged up on.

"Yeah, just soggy," Miles says, and tries to shake off some of the excess water. "Always knew I was some sort of unclean sinner, but I didn't think I was this bad, heh."

He looks at the other guy. "You've been spared from the water-balloons-for-Jesus tradition, huh?"

"So far," Zephyr says with a quick little shrug. "I don't think kids can actually sense evil, though."

He'd offer a towel if he had one. As it stands, Zephyr doesn't have a lot.

"Sorry, water balloons for who?"

"...don't worry about it," Miles says quickly. He doesn't want to go there, not even one little tiny bit. Not only has he never been a theologian, he's had his fill of religion, especially that one. Trying to explain what he meant would just make himself angry and Zephyr confused.

"Hold on, duck!" He yanks the guy aside, and not a moment too soon, because another water balloon comes sailing by.

It might be important, you never know. If you're throwing water balloons for a guy, it's nice to know who he is.

Zephyr is promptly distracted from this by the yank. Fortunately, he's very accustomed to listening to the word duck, and he goes with Miles without a fight.

"Thanks," he says when he straightens, twisting to see where that came from. "Guess they don't care much about collateral damage, huh?"

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Inside my brain, I, too, have fire.

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