ioduanlogs | [open] all natural and technological processes proceed in such a way

Entry tags:

[open] all natural and technological processes proceed in such a way

Characters: Padparadscha and you!
Date: August in general
Location: Streets of Aifaran, one of the Tifaut places of worship, Dreaming Bridge
Situation: August catch-all feat. Justice 2, Faith 5 and Meta 3 affinities. Feel free to hit me up on Plurk if you'd like a closed prompt instead!
Warnings/Rating: None currently.

[A: Mis-Knighted]

[The concept of "knighting" doesn't exist in Padparadscha's world, so they initially decide to play along with the decrepit ex-Sentryman's apparent intent to do it to them. It mostly just seems like a little bit of fun, and maybe they can learn something about customs in this world.

It turns out to be much more of a ceremony than they expected, though, and while they don't seem to mind the wait, they glance with some amusement over to anyone who's stopped by the spectacle of a rambling old man with a rusty sword laid on the shoulders of a resolute rock person.]

This is a lot of words for a...honestly, I'm not sure what it is this ceremony is for. "Knighting"?

--

[B: Meditation]

[While Padparadscha hasn't given a great deal of time to the various faiths of Aifaran, they've been around that area more in the last month, so it's not overly surprising when one of the Tifaut members invites them to a meditation session. Considering their faith involves the idea of repairing the world through belief, of course Padparadscha was going to express some curiosity about it after hearing about Rutile's questionable decision to explore the Barrier.

The most surprising part is that the meditation actually seems to work. Padparadscha is a calm person by nature, but even they can feel something that permeates deeper than that, rejuventating and energising. It's an odd feeling, a bit like when they first wake up from a long sleep, and they depart the impromptu gathering area for the meditation with a wave of the hand and a luxurious stretch towards the open sun.]

Ah, feels like I've taken in a whole day's worth of sunlight at once. It's good~

--

[C: The One With Sick Horns]

[On one hand, Padparadscha doesn't actually need beauty products considering they're all rock and a layer of skin-tone paint. On the other, the owners of that beauty shop had been pretty enthusiastic about the idea of testing their products on a kind of person they'd never seen before, and Padparadscha isn't nearly as fussed about wasting time as living things are.

The very curly horns are an odd bonus, though. They're not rock, but some kind of organic material, Padparadscha assumes, though they're surprisingly light for their size. Still, they're new and very large, so Padparadscha can be found in front of one of the mirrors in the Dreaming Bridge shortly after the incident, tapping across the horns as if to discern their makeup and response to touch.]

What funny things... [They seem more amused than anything, honestly.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Pepper is familiar with what knighting looks like - or at least what movie and television make it look like. As far as she knows, it's not practiced in Aifaran as a rule. There isn't much of a nobility that means anything, unless someone conveniently forgot to mention that to her.

Padparadscha doesn't seem too perturbed by the whole occasion, which Pepper spots as she's out shopping for groceries. She stops halfway across the street to make sure she's seeing it right before redirecting to the odd pair just in time to hear the gem's commentary.]

Depending on the rules, it could mean everything from a protector to like, getting yourself land or political position, [she interjects with a puzzled smile. The redhead regards the old man with mild concern. He seems fine, just... possibly in the wrong time period.] Did you do something super honorable?

[Neither of those things means all that much to Padparadscha, considering the world they came from, but they can't help but laugh at the question they're offered at the end, glancing over to the old man who's still stubbornly plowing his way through the ceremony.]

Would it be considered honourable to have let this one spend so long on his ceremony? I don't imagine anything else here I've done would be considered so honourable.

[Padparadscha hasn't gotten all that much done in terms of grand acts in their time here, though they like it better that way anyway.]

[Pepper starts to giggle and covers her mouth to stifle the sound; she doesn't want the older gentleman to think she's making fun of him.]

People sometimes have strange standards for honor. Uh, sir? [She edges closer to the old man with the sword, spotting what looks like a Sentry emblem on his lapel but he's certainly past the age of being on active duty.] You've, uh, done a great service today and I'm sure Padparadscha will, um, carry this title well, but-- traffic! There's a lot of pedestrian traffic.

[She winks at the gem.] It'd probably be best to wrap this up.

[The older man seems to startle slightly at the sudden appearance of someone else so close by, which does at least stop his plowing through the ceremony for a moment. He blinks vaguely at the street around them, which is busy enough, but not overly so, and mumbles something about this being more important.

Padparadscha raises a brow, still seemingly amused at the whole thing.] As much as I appreciate the thought, I feel like it would be better spent on someone who actually truly knows what a "knight" is supposed to represent.

[Oh, dear. Pepper really doesn't want to disappoint the guy, he's really very serious about the knighting and Padparadscha is definitely being patient.]

They've got a point, [she agrees, picking up the gem's direction of thought.] It's super nice of you, really, but knighthood is like this really big deal, right? I feel like that's something that needs approving by a committee or royalty or whatever.

We've got knights where I come from - sort of - maybe I can just borrow Padparadscha to... uh, educate them in how to be a knight and then we can reschedule?

[Real smooth, Pepper.]

[The education part doesn't seem to do much to stop the man's insistence to plow on, but he does hesitate at the notion of needing approval. After a moment, he openly wonders about where he put the approval for it, and steadfastly begins searching his person.

He doesn't appear to be having much luck, though, and Padparadscha gives a slight shrug and a smile.] As much of a shame as it is if you can't find it, perhaps you should go and ask for another copy if that's the case. I'm sure we can postpone the meeting.

[The man keeps on searching for a good few moments longer, but ultimately seems to realise he doesn't have what he thought he had, and begins to drift off in another direction, still searching for the papers.]

[Bureaucracy wins, apparently. Of course. Pepper doesn't particularly mind how it's accomplished, as long as the stately old gentleman isn't overly hurt by halting the proceedings. Once he's a little further away, Pepper laughs and offers them a hand up.]

Well, that happened. Did he just pick you out randomly in the crowd? I mean, you do stand out, so maybe 'random' isn't the right word for it. Did you ever figure out that resin rock painting thing?

[Padparadscha waves off the hand and stands up on their own - the thunk their foot makes on the ground probably speaks enough on why. They wouldn't want to put their weight on a human frame, or risk doing something like crushing someone's bones for offering to help them up.]

Something like that, yes. And I ended up speaking to the local scientists. They found a solution before too long. [They touch a thumb to their arm, rubbing at the white layer a little as if to demonstrate that it's not coming off with such a minor motion.]

[...Oh. Gems are apparently Very Heavy. Pepper keeps this in mind the next time they might be in close quarters, especially on something like a mission when another rolls around. Is Rutile that heavy? She'll have to ask.

Pepper peers at the spot on Padparadscha's arm and smiles brightly.]

Awesome, I'm glad they could help. The people here are pretty adaptable about, like, everything. [Thanks, Dreaming.]

What were you up to before you almost got inducted into the obsolete order of Sentry knights?

It's to be expected, huh? [When so many strange people come through their borders, they'd have to have made an adaptable system for themselves or be left behind.

At the question, Padparadscha waves a hand, drawing their (extremely long) sword from where it's been hanging behind their legs and slinging it across their shoulders rather casually. The blade is deep black, and shines like some kind of gem.]

I may not be part of the Sentry, but sentry duty comes naturally to me. So sometimes I wander the city and see whether I'm needed anywhere. What about you, little one?

I think they'd have to be or this place wouldn't be thriving, yeah, [she agrees.] The kedan were adaptable in Keeliai, too, but combining everyone's resources definitely seems like it had a ton of benefits.

[Pepper's eyes go a little wide, impressed by the sword. It's size had been obvious enough with it just hanging there, but having it unsheathed and the material it's made of revealed adds another layer of very cool. She's handled a fair few swords herself and this one is entirely unique.]

Uh, I was just about to go grocery shopping. There's an outdoor market nearby that has some really good quality produce-- [That sword is very distracting.] Are you, like, a guard or a fighter where you come from, then? That's a really neat sword.

Something like that. It's a common position to hold where I come from. [Basically everyone who doesn't have a very specific position, like Rutile or Red Beryl, takes up sentry duty at least some of the time among the gems. It's necessary when attacks on their home are so common.]

I don't know how much Obsidian might have improved over the years, but they were always a skilled blacksmith. Their work would be impossible for a living thing to match.

[It's not a tone of dismissiveness, or even looking down on the living, just a mere statement of fact. With only maybe a hundred years to hone their craft, no living thing could match someone who has had many hundreds, or even over a thousand.]

[Kit's hearing isn't the best, but Padparadscha's gait, like Rutile's, is just substantial enough to overcome his partial deafness. He's in the middle of being turned down for a purchase by yet another vendor when he hears Padparadscha's approach and, after waving off the sour-faced proprietor accusing him of being 'the Storm-bringer,' jogs away from him towards the familiar face.]

Hey! [he calls out, smiling lopsidedly, and takes in their chiller-than-usual demeanour. He glances towards the departing monks and the other meditation participants.] I'd ask how you're doing, but you look like you're doing pretty great, at the moment.

[Padparadscha catches only the tail end of that interaction in passing, but glances briefly to the vendor before turning their attention to Kit. Sounds like an odd situation, though they haven't interacted all that much with the vendors here to know exactly how strange.]

It seems like they wanted me to share in some meditation tradition of theirs. Perhaps there's more to be said for the practice than I'd thought before. [They nod towards the vendor.] Did you not buy anything?

No, [said sourly, with a fed-up gesture backwards over his shoulder at the vendor's stall,] the stuffed up sods won't sell me a damn thing. Apparently I'm the 'Storm-bringer,' whatever that means.

[The vendor in question is continuing to scowl Kit's way from where he stands behind the counter of his stall, as though the force of his glare should be enough to keep the storm-bringing menace from coming back for a second attempt. Kit glowers back at him.] Felt like I was back in Orzammar for a second.

[That makes Padparadscha laugh for a moment, apparently less bothered by the entire situation than he is, though that's not surprising.] Well, you're in the kind of mood that seems like it could bring on a storm to me, but I think that was his fault in the first place.

[Though they're not typically one for bartering, Padparadscha wanders up to the stall, seeing what they have.] Is it normal for people who earn their keep by selling things to refuse to sell to people, then? That seems backwards.

[If it felt like he was "back in Orzammar", presumably this isn't something that only happens here.]

[It takes Kit a second to realize what they intend to do, but by then, it's too late for him to do anything other than startle and awkwardly protest,] Uh, hey, wait, you don't have to--

[But they do, apparently.

[The Tia-cheal vendor looks more than a little shocked by Padparadscha's approach, though that gives way to visceral displeasure when he figures out what this strange new person is on about. He abrasively brushes them off, turning his face away.] I'll sell you whatever you want--but not to him. He's a bad omen.

[Behind Padparadscha, Kit makes an audible 'tsch' noise and fishes out a cigarette to light.] Yeah, fine, whatever.

[Well, that's...an interesting reaction, though Padparadscha largely just seems amused, looking over the stall.] What is it you sell, then? I'm afraid I haven't had much reason to buy anything since coming here.

[Clothes once or twice, the occasional trinket that seemed particularly interestingly crafted, and that was about it. They don't need food or any of the multitude of other comforts living things seem to purchase the most.]

And I have to wonder what kind of bad omen you think he is, as well. A stormy attitude doesn't do it to bring storms, I'm afraid.

You aren't Tia-cheal. [The vendor looks increasingly hostile under this interrogation, mild though it is, and continues to dart his eyes nervously past Padparadscha's shoulder to the dwarf behind them. He shakes his head stiffly.] You Dreamfolk wouldn't understand.

[Kit takes a quick drag off of his cigarette and steps up to Padparadscha's side, grimacing.] Just--forget about it, salroka, [he mutters to his friend, refusing to make eye contact with the man who won't even sell him a damn piece of fruit,] it doesn't matter. There's plenty of other places I can shop, I didn't mean to get you dragged into this. [truthfully he looks chagrined and embarrassed over having Padparadscha witness this moment.]

Well, nobody's ever going to understand anything if all you do is say that. [Padparadscha's tone isn't judging, just calm and somewhat amused. It seems something of a bizarre attitude to them, to assume someone won't understand when you're unwilling to tell them anyway.

Since Kit seems like he'd prefer to leave, though, Padparadscha shrugs slightly and turns away.] If you insist. But there's no harm in offering a little advice where it's needed.

[And the vendor certainly needs it, with an attitude like that.]

[With an especially cold look over his shoulder, Kit mutters to Padparadscha,] Probably wasted on someone like that. He needs more than advice.

[A prejudice-correcting kick to the shins, maybe. Kit keeps this observation to himself. Still, as he makes his way away from the vendor at Padparadscha's side, it's clear that this encounter has clawed its way under his skin and put him in... well, a stormy mood wouldn't be an inaccurate characterization. It runs rather counter to the way he usually deals with unpleasant feelings, and so as they walk, he looks agitated, like there's a sudden upswell of energy in him that he needs to work off, somehow.]

Ancestors, [the way he says it under his breath makes it sound like a swear word of some kind,] that guy's made me angry.

Does it mean all that much if you make the decision of what they should be doing for them? [Padparadscha's tone is still light and somewhat amused, but there's a certain knowing element to that remark as well. It's why they don't tend to do more than advise when it comes to stepping in with people.

It seems like the remarks have gotten under Kit's skin for whatever reason, though, so Padparadscha settles on keeping the mood light.] Isn't an "ancestor" what living things call the ones that came before them? I thought most rude things living things say were just supposed to be rude all the time.

[...They make a good point. Kit grunts once under his breath and makes a face--like he knows what he's hearing is good sense, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.] No, [he admits grudgingly,] probably not.

[That second question earns them a slightly warmer chuckle. Kit lifts his shoulders in a shrug and takes a quick pull from his cigarette.] Yeah, well, [he muses,] our ancestors were probably rude some of the time, too. They can't all be Paragons.

[a beat, before he elaborates, gesturing,] Paragons are, uh, special dwarves. Dwarves that accomplished something big for the rest of Orzammar--like inventing something, or being especially good at killing darkspawn. [He doesn't sound too impressed by any of what he's saying, which probably suggests just how little esteem he holds for the culture he comes from.]

[Considering that's the same place he mentioned earlier that he sounds so dissatisfied with, it's hard to miss the implication that Kit finds something about it bothersome. Padparadscha typically isn't one to pry too hard, but they can't say they aren't curious, and they give an interested hum as they turn towards him, walking backwards for a moment or two in the manner of someone who doesn't imagine it will backfire on them at all.]

That's the place you said earlier as well, isn't it? Orzammar. There are few people here who lack strong ties to where they came from, but it doesn't sound like you're all that fond of it, huh?

No, I'm not.

[He doesn't intend to sound as brusque as he does, but damn if it isn't hard to lay it out like that from time to time. Kit grimaces as he follows along after Padparadscha, his somewhat trudging pace fairly well juxtaposed against their lackadaisical stride. He mulls over how much to tell them.]

There's this... system in place, for figuring out what your place in society is going to be. It's called the caste system. Artisans are from the artisan caste, merchants from the merchant caste--you get the picture. [Up comes his cigarette for a puff, before he lowers it.]

If you're born casteless, then someone puts this one you, [he lifts his hand up to point to an aged, tattooed brand beneath his other tattoos, just visible on his cheek bone,] so everyone else in society knows you're less than the dirt they walk on. The Shaperate doesn't add you to the memories; when you're dead, it's like you never existed.

I defended that damn thaig from the darkspawn. Honestly, I should've just let them raze it to the ground.

[he's not bitter or anything]

[Initially, Padparadscha seems at ease with the idea of a system for deciding one's place in society - their own society has something along those lines, even if it's for jobs and roles only. The idea that that should cast out people who don't fit a particular role, though, makes them frown slightly. It's a subtle thing, but it's rather clear they dislike the idea that's being presented to them.]

That seems unnecessary. [To say the least.] As gems, we take up certain roles as given to us by Adamant-sensei, but all gems and all roles are equal. There's no reason to think of another as any lesser for the work they do, or don't do.

[Phos had arguably been in a similar position to Kit, lacking a proper role, and they've proved themselves in other ways since then.] I think it speaks for your heart that you saved it despite all that, though.

You mean the horns?

[Raven spoke, being nearby when they had been talking to themselves. Yeah, those sure were horns.

And they sure were staring and touching them a lot.]

They're that interesting?

[At the questioning, Padparadscha gives a deep, rolling laugh and straightens up, turning their head towards Raven.]

I don't think I've ever seen anything with horns like this before, so seeing myself with them is a little strange. And they seem to be organic, which is certainly new for me.

[Rock is one thing, but something like this, like bone or ivory or other things the living are constructed from, is another entirely.]

You usually see them on rams, a type of sheep. Not something you'd normally see on people.

[A brief pause.]

The organic part is what catches your attention the most?

Ah, I don't think I've seen one of those before, anyway. [They're certainly not a species they had in Padparadscha's world, to their knowledge, and they haven't exactly had many chances to meet more animals here.

The questioning tone puts a faintly amused smile on Padparadscha's face, though, and they turn themselves fully away from the mirror and to face Raven. Their shirt front is completely open, and their smooth torso is party to several large holes, each one filled in with what appears to be a painfully accurately cut chunk of gemstone.]

I'm not used to being party to the living, you might say.

Must be nice, then. To be able to have a second chance.

[Or she was assuming as much after hearing what they'd said. Not much room for misinterpretation, really.]

Horns aside, I guess.

[It was out of courtesy that she didn't immediately look at their open shirt. Though the filled-in holes were hard to miss, and ignore. It was making more sense, knowing who was also her roommate.]

You and Rutile wouldn't happen to know each other?

That's a strange thing to say. [Padparadscha doesn't consider it a second chance any more than they considered being woken up by the Lunarians a second chance. It's merely the nature of their existence.

The mention of Rutile distracts them, though, and they laugh - it's a deep, rounded thing.]

You might say that, yes. How familiar are you with them?

Solving another Dreamfolk's problem is the closest to a productive use of their time that Antarcticite has come since their arrival in Aifaran. Yet the more that they search, the more probable it becomes that they will fail at this task, and find themselves at another loss for what to do with themselves.

It is strange, and unsettling, to feel superfluous, like they are not needed. As strange as it is to be surrounded by so many strange faces in this warm, alien world.

Nevertheless, they resolve not to give up the search for this Bakura person until they have searched everywhere on this strange archipelago where a living person might take themselves. Currently, it appears that their search has brought them through one of Aifaran's seedier neighbourhoods, and while they are not in any danger, the dangerous elements that do inhabit this part of the city mean that the locals are not interested in loitering in the streets to field questions from a weird-looking stranger.

"Get out of here," someone brusquely tells them before shutting their door firmly in their face. Antarcticite startles some as they step backward, before scowling determinedly down at their yimo. Whoever this Bakura person is, they will be relieved when he's found.

Padparadscha occasions the seedier neighbourhoods merely out of a combination of having little to fear from them and curiosity about what makes them so. And, of course, there's the occasional issue of people who may not belong there wandering in, and they typically don't begrudge an escort out when it comes with Padparadscha's calm preparedness.

So they walk at a leisurely pace, sword slung over their shoulders right now rather than tied to their belt, observing for the movements and activities of the city's shadier elements. It still seems strange that there's such a dedicated crop of "undesirable" people here when they're from a society that has no space for such divides, and their curiosity has drawn them back more than a few times by now.

This is the first time they've seen such a familiar-looking face around here, though...or perhaps "familiar" isn't the right word. Antarcticite lives and works while most other gems slumber, even without factoring in Padparadscha's unique condition, but they're clearly a gem and their pale colour and seeming delicacy of their form has Padparadscha clicking the identity into place within a moment or two.

"The people around here aren't very talkative, huh, Antarc?" Padparadscha says, voice coming from behind as they continue their casual, borderline swaggering walk to arrive beside the other gem and glance over with a faint, amused smile.

The first indication that Antarcticite is no longer alone comes in the form of the tell-tale click of stone against concrete. They turn, looking up from their yimo, and freeze at the sight that greets them. Padparadscha had an undeniable presence even while trapped in their years of slumber, and so to find themselves face to face with the gem who had occupied so many of Rutile's waking hours, and had always been something of an inaccessible mystery, leaves Antarcticite momentarily dumbstruck.

They were never given occasion to get to know any of the other gems at the school well enough to consider them friends or mentors (perhaps with the exception of Rutile)--but even for Antarcticite, it would be difficult not to idolize a competent warrior like Padparadscha just a little bit.

"Padparadscha..!" comes their startled exclamation, before they struggle to regain their collected composure. They straighten up, smoothing an errant wrinkle from their uniform shirt, and then gesture back at the closed door. "I wasn't trying to be a bother," they insist, "I only wanted to ask them some questions about someone who's gone missing."

Padparadscha gives a faintly amused laugh at the reaction, though beneath it all, there's an unusual feeling gathering. It's not quite pity, but it's something sympathetic - they're one of the gems that had been lost, and yet here they are again, whole yet beyond the reach of home or anyone they truly know. Rutile and Padparadscha haven't exactly had the opportunity to become close to most of the younger gems.

They raise a brow at the matter of looking for a missing person, though, before they think on it and their expression clears up a little.

"Would that be Bakura...? I've spoken to that one once or twice before, but I'm afraid I have no idea where he might have gone if the Dreaming hasn't returned him to his place," Padparadscha admits, tilting their sword to one side as they consider it. They certainly don't know the human well, and he seems one to keep to himself for the most part regardless.

"He was interested in Dreaming legends and objects, so perhaps he may even have made an unwise decision to follow up on one."

Truthfully, beyond Adamant-sensei, who among the gems does Antarcticite really know? The majority of their encounters with their peers involved coaxing a few of the sleepwalkers back to bed, or sitting up with Rutile on the odd night when the doctor was awake and unable to rest. Their partnership with Phos had been brief but meaningful; Antarcticite had never considered themselves mentor material, but it had felt strangely natural to work with Phos. Before it had all ended, of course.

They try not to think about the Nascent Beach very often.

And they don't have to, at least for this moment, because what Padparadscha says gives them pause. A look of confusion steals across their features. "What do you mean, if the Dreaming hasn't returned him?" Evidently, the Bridge staff hadn't imparted all of this world's necessary knowledge upon Antarcticite before they ventured out into the world on their own.

Ah, so Antarcticite also had some difficulties with information. Padparadscha came quite early for the current group, so it had been more natural for them to wander to the Dreaming Bridge, but Rutile hadn't been very patient about getting information either, and perhaps Antarc just never quite made it there or didn't remain long enough before coming out on this mission.

They tilt their sword back a little on their shoulders, considering how best to explain it. "The Dreaming is the thing that brings us to this world, so they say, but it's also what takes people away from it at times as well. Sometimes people return home with no rhyme or reason to it. I think perhaps that's a possibility the people who know them don't want to admit to."

And instead post frantically about who's seen the person recently until they're convinced of it being the case. The concerns of living things are surprisingly small sometimes.

"Ah..."

It's the sort of response one offers after some confusion has been cleared up, but for a moment Antarcticite stands beside Padparadscha with a look on their face that is difficult to parse as anything other than dismay. To vanish back to their own world, now, means returning to the moon, for they cannot imagine that Phosphophyllite was able to free themselves from their alloy prison in time to intervene on their behalf.

Death isn't something that a gem has any reason to fear, but the unknown, trapped in the grasp of the only enemy Sensei had ever taught them to be wary of--

"...then I suppose Bakura won't return, unless the Dreaming sees fit to bring him back." They look down at his face on the screen of their yimo, his expression as strange as anything else in this place, then switch the device off.

A beat, before they admit, "There's nothing for me but the moon, if it sends me back."

Padparadscha's expression becomes somewhat unreadable at that admission. They're aware, at least, that Antarc was one of the ones taken in their most recent absence. But being taken to the moon has a somewhat different meaning to some of them now, and Padparadscha lifts their sword from their shoulders to rest it on its tip in front of them instead, looking up towards the sky.

"Perhaps things will change in our time here. Who knows? They say time does not pass, but all manner of strange things can happen here, it seems."

Of all of them, Antarc would have the smallest chance of being repaired, they think. Their unique makeup is more of a curse than it is a blessing, similarly to Padparadscha.

"You have opportunities here, nonetheless. It's a shame to only be able to live half of a life, isn't it?"

Strange things indeed--that Antarcticite is solid at such outrageously warm temperatures is strange enough in and of itself, to say nothing of the other peculiar forces at work around them. Antarcticite manages a small smile at Padparadscha's suggestion and looks down, almost abashed by their own concerns.

"Yes," they agree, a little chagrined that the opportunities before them had to be articulated so clearly--and by Padparadscha, too. Of all the gems to behave like such a junior in front of...! "You're right, of course. Rutile said you would have wisdom to share--I'm sorry for my shortsightedness."

They look once more at their closed yimo before resolutely slipping it into their pocket and straightening. A moment later, though, and some of their uncertainty returns. "It's--uncomfortable, not being of use to someone. How have you and Rutile managed here?"

That gets a slight laugh out of Padparadscha. Considering their last conversation, they imagine Rutile would be only too eager to have them place their wisdom on someone else's shoulders.

"Well, Rutile enjoys the undiscovered and unquantified, quack doctor and all. So they've been seeking discovery in their time here. Me..." Padparadscha trails off thoughtfully, then shrugs. "It's been a long time since I've been obliged to anyone, strictly speaking. I haven't been awake long enough for it. So now that I have the opportunity, I'd prefer to just live."

It seems likely their time here is going to be little more than a blink in the grand scheme of things, but it's an opportunity to take while it's there, and not only appreciate when it's already gone.

Should Padparadscha look towards Antarcticite now as they speak, they'll find the younger gem a rather rapt and captive audience, as though Antarcticite hopes to glean something from what Padparadscha says to ease a fear within them that is difficult to name. At length, they make a sound almost like a scoff, but it's far too polite and respectful to be something like that, and there's no derision or moodiness that accompanies Antarcticite's very serious downcast stare. "It sounds like such an easy thing to do when you say it," they reply quietly, and fidget two gloved fingers against the hilt of the sword still strapped to their hip.

It's clear that there is still something else on their mind, and once they finally summon up the courage to say it, maybe their hesitation is understandable. "Do you ever worry," they begin quietly, "about not waking up when you go to sleep here?" Translation: they clearly do, and are struggling with how to manage it.

"Is that a strange thing?" Padparadscha sounds somewhat amused at the notion that they make things sound easy, though people do seem to get that impression off them a lot. They have a reputation for it, if anything.

Antarc's concern is a valid one, though, and Padparadscha's expression dips into something more sympathetic. Another one like them, in a way, as Phos had been when they'd last woken up.

"Quite a lot, actually," Padparadscha admits, no shame in it. "It's natural when your state is as precarious as yours or mine. But if you linger on what-ifs for too long, you forget to live the life that's in front of you already, and perhaps if it ever did happen, you would have missed what chance you had."

"...It's natural when your state is as precarious as yours or mine. But if you linger on what-ifs for too long, you forget to live the life that's in front of you already, and perhaps if it ever did happen, you would have missed what chance you had."

Is it comforting or frightening to know that Padparadscha, too, sleeps each night wondering if they'll even wake up in the morning? Maybe a bit of both, if the combination of Antarcticite's slight frown, and the lessening of tension in their shoulders is any indication. But there is sage advice to be found in Padparadscha's words, too, if Antarcticite can bring themselves to accept it.

For a gem, that might require several human lifetimes of perseverance.

"Of course," they agree regardless. "Thank you--" 'Teacher,' they nearly say, but stop themselves abruptly before making such an embarrassing (and revealing) mistake. They are no junior to consciously go out of their way to seek out a replacement for Adamant now that they are suddenly without him... but they would similarly have to be as empty-headed as Phos not to admit to themselves that they miss him, and are rudderless without the guidance and companionship that he provided them during their long and lonely tenure as winter's keeper.

Still, that is not Padparadscha's burden to bear. After all, how many centuries of their long life have they actually been able to enjoy? Antarcticite fumbles clumsily for something more to say, to impart to Padparadscha their gratitude without placing any expectations upon them, and comes up short. Instead, they simply frown earnestly and say again, "thank you," quietly.

Padparadscha has some suspicion of what it is Antarc almost says before catching themselves, and though their expression doesn't change, they certainly note it. It's not surprising, considering Antarc's isolation compared to any other gem, the unique condition which had made Sensei their primary source of guidance and support, but it's certainly not their plan to become a replacement.

It's hard to want to be at all when they consider Sensei's nature. It's a complicated situation, and not one Antarc should be introduced to lightly considering the high regard they hold him in.

So for now, they laugh, tilting their head back over their shoulder. "I wouldn't think about that sort of thing for too long if you can help it. For now, you have the chance to wonder and learn about new things, and exist in a different way to what you did before. It may be strange and even discomfiting, but it's certainly an opportunity."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] all natural and technological processes proceed in such a way

A

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B (w/ reference to Commerce 3)

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just realized this is a faith 2 thing, not commerce, my bad!

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C

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wildcard!!

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