2018-04-05: Strange Girl
- Log: Strange Girl
- Cast: Loren Voss, Lan Lilac
- Where: Plains of the Goddess
- Date: April 5th 2018
- Summary: Lan and Loren attempt to find some shelter during a rainstorm on the moon. Lan makes another offer.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Lunar has many surprises, he's found, turn by turn.
There had been apple trees in Gounon.
Trees, themselves -- growing wild, not confined to a pot in someone's home or a green space beneath the canopy -- had been an interesting experience; it's one thing to read about something, another to see it for oneself.
Despite the desolation of Filgaia, it had still had trees.
But they look a poor sort by comparison to the green of Lunar, as strange as it is to realize that what had looked a barren grey rock had hidden this all along.
Some of the trees are even blooming.
...Something he might have appreciated more if the heavens hadn't just decided to open up and forced the two of them to seek shelter underneath one of the larger trees.
(Yes, two of them -- he and Lan haven't parted ways since the failed attempt to investigate the contents of the mine, and the way he figures it, it... might be better for information-seeking to have someone he can use to help with the 'seeking' part of that equation on hand.)
(Particularly so he can confirm first-hand the information he's receiving... and people tend to be less suspicious of a pair, he's found, than one person alone.)
(But none of this is here nor there at the moment, beneath the tree as the rain patters down.)
One of the good things about Filgaia, he thinks, wringing out coattails as they both attempt to try to wait it out, is that it barely rained. Even that had -- at the time -- been a poor (and astonishing, even if he'd read about it -- water from the sky) show, though. Particularly when compared to this absolute monster of a rainstorm. Even the tree's not much use here.
He ultimately squints through his glasses, takes them off, and with an annoyed sigh, leans against the trunk. "What a pain..."
The charm of an actual rainstorm has already worn off.
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
Rain is rare on Filgaia. The villagers of Little Firelight celebrated even the tiniest shower, like many other settlements so close to the Badlands. Lan, however, has never seen rain come down like it does on the moon.
Every. Single. Time. Lan lets it pour down on herself, soaking her to the skin before she takes shelter underneath something. The thrill of wet air, the thunder of millions of raindrops striking, the feeling of being clean... It's breathtaking.
The first time it happened was unexpected - the drops hit her skin and she'd looked up in disbelief. But it must rain on the moon, right? Nowhere else could be this green... Droplets pattered on her skin as tears welled in her eyes. Rain. Water, for anybody who wanted it...
She'd laughed and danced and cried and sang until she was exhausted, dragging her weary body to shelter and the warmth of the campfire. She didn't try to explain herself to Thomas.
Wedged up between the tree's roots with her knees tucked up to her chin, Lan rests and tries to conserve a little extra warmth. "I don't think it's going to work," she offers after watching him for a few moments. "How far is it to the next town? Do you think it's worth trying to get there in this weather?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There must be places on Filagaia that receive more rain than others, but...
(In Ignas, at least -- in the desert, for certain -- rain is a blessing.)
...what rain is had is a poor sight compared to the right proper downpour from the moon's skies.
Was Filgaia like this, before it was brought low and broken?
If it weren't for the haze in the air -- in the horizon, when he looks for it -- he'd almost think...
Other things, though, are a distraction. All he meant to do was try to worry loose some information from the larger cities this way and report back -- all the while hoping he hadn't been beaten to the punch by some other team.
Team, huh...
...More people can cover more ground. It's just fact.
That's why he'd even put up with her this long. Her and her frankly bizarre ways -- dancing in rainstorms, splashing in puddles...
Singing just because of the rain.
Lambs are just strange, when they're not dangerous or stupid.
"...And get soaked more? No, thank you. It's a few miles off at least," he states, rolling his eyes towards the branches above him--
And getting a sudden torrent of water as some leaves give way right in his face. He sputters, shakes his head like a dog attempting to purge itself of its aquatic torments after a bath.
"...I don't suppose you have any ideas?"
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
Lan, to be fair, is not the best example of a real Lamb. She barely even embodies all the stereotypes correctly!
"Being wet won't kill you," she reproaches him mildly. "Still, it'd be awful if you got a chill and got sick or something. I don't know half of the plants here, we can't count on being able to make medicine on our own." She'd bought a few things in the last town, but who knows how effective moon medicine truly is?!
Dragging her pack closer, she opens it up and digs through her sparse things for a piece of absorbent cloth. "Here," she chuckles, offering it over. "Try and dry off a bit." For herself Lan tugs out a spare shirt that's clean enough and uses it to scrub water from her face.
"We could build a better shelter than this if there are any fallen branches and leaves around," she offers. She doesn't have any mediums that could directly create shelter... The two she carries are enough. "Or keep going until we find something more permanent like a cave or something. If the rain doesn't let up in a while, we might have no choice."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
"I'm not worried about getting sick," he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. His glasses dangle limply from the fingertips of his one hand, lenses streaked with water. "Look, this can't go on forever. At some point it's going to have to stop."
And he's not about to hasten the process of getting soaked to the bone, even if it's getting to the point of semantic disagreement at this point anyway. The hem of his coat drips onto the roots of the tree, as if to underline this... fact.
Besides, he considers, pointedly ignoring this fact, knowing his luck, they'd get five minutes out and it'd stop raining. No, thank you.
He does not mention the fact that in the depths of his kit are an assortment of medications and things that would put most of the treatments available on the moon to shame.
Though, it doesn't mean he couldn't still catch a cold. Some things are impossible to stop.
That same bag, he hasn't opened; to look at it, it must be waterproof, though perhaps that's the reason why he hasn't delved into its contents.
In any case, he hesitates a moment, then takes the cloth from her once she hands it over, eyeing it critically before haphazardly toweling off.
And, more importantly, wiping off his glasses and slipping them back on.
"...You've done this before," he notes, as she rattles off the things they could do, with the proper materials. "Is that common knowledge for your people?"
He knows, himself, a little bit. ...But wilderness survival -- beyond the things he'd picked up first hand in the desert -- is not precisely his focus. His role is largely to support during forays, with a common side jaunt into information-gathering, which usually put him into a Lamb settlement, not...
"...Must be useful."
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
Lan doesn't ask about the things he must keep in his bag. After all, if he had someting useful he'd surely share it, right? It's how parties work together to survive! And since hers isn't the only survival depending on their teamwork...
Her own pack is as waterproof as any other pack... which is to say it's made of leather and waxed cloth, and will shed the majority of any raindrops that don't manage to sneak down inside somehow. (For the record, the towel is plenty clean.)
"Usually not in the rain, but sometimes," she nods. "Normally I travel on my own, and it's a long way between some towns back on Filgaia. It's just usually the sun we have to worry about," Lan frowns. Even her tawny skin isn't enough to ward off all of the sun's scorching rays. "Though you must know that already, because you don't look like you've been letting yourself get burned or anything!"
She has decided that Thomas is definitely a city dweller of some kind, perhaps from a country she's never even heard of. She's never seen him display much of an instinct for surviving out in the wilderness, certainly! "I could teach you some if you want," Lan offers on impulse. "That way you'd be better off next time you end up on your own on a strange planet!"
is she fucking serious
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
It's important stuff, alright, but also not the kind of things he wants to let slip quite yet, lest this partnership end up... being terminated early.
(Perhaps it might not matter as much, given the situation -- given the number of people he's already met who know who he's with, but any edge is an important one. They need to return to Filgaia -- if any compromise can be avoided, then it's potentially unfortunate but most certainly necessary.)
But for right now, he hands the towel on back, shifting his weight as he continues to lean against the trunk.
"So I've learned," he remarks, as she comments on the distance between towns. "...Trust me, I learned a thing or two about the sun," he does add, a touch darkly.
Naturally, on top of everything else, he ended up with some somatic mutation in the skin -- at least his mother never showed it, or his brother -- and not only does he seem to outright burn in the sun if he's anything less than absolutely perfectly careful...
It's vain to even focus on it, but he really does hate the freckles. They're spreading, too.
"You can get blinded out there," he remarks, thinking back to his first day on the planet's surface. "I've heard some of the damage can even be permanent. Honestly, it's better to not even travel during the day."
Night time travel has its own issues, but it's still better than the alternative.
His gaze fixes off into the distance, through the wash of rain, across the green.
There's so much to do. Little time to do it in. ...He's wasting time out here, like this. He should be finding out something more, or reporting back, or assisting back at the ship. Not standing around like this in the hopes that things will relent. Maybe he should bite the bullet -- press on.
It's just water.
He's a soldier, isn't he...? Letting something like this get in his way is just... soft.
He stares into the haze of the horizon as he treads his own thoughts, somewhere amidst the expanse of the fields beyond the tree.
For a moment, he would almost swear something looked back.
His expression goes completely blank for a handful of seconds. Then he shakes his head. It's not there when he looks again.
Just the rain.
It's at a remove then that he answers Lan's question with a somewhat disconnected, "...Teach me some what?"
Which is followed by the blankest of looks as he catches up with the topic of the day, blinks at her statement, and utters a dry, "Somehow, I doubt that will happen again."
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
Lan nods; it's somewhere between understanding and encouraging. "That's right. Over time the effects can really add up. Most of older relatives are starting to look kind of pruney," she grins. "No matter how we try to protect ourselves, it's impossible to for people to live completely cut off from the sun. Traveling at night is better, especially in the Badlands." Even with all the other dangers such as predatory animals, low vision, and the threat of prowling humans...
It's so much nicer to nap during the brightness and heat of a Filgaian day. Lan's towel has seen plenty of use as an impromptu sunbrella!
The motion of his head turning barely registers, but she catches the tail end of it. He stares out at something, and though Lan gazes after him she sees nothing. "What, did you see something out in the rain?" It doesn't occur to her that what he saw might not be real... Thomas has always seemed so level-headed. In fact, she'd go so far as to call him downright dour most of the time. She tucks her knees up beneath her chin and debates the merits of trying to find a dry enough place to start a campfire. It'd never been a problem back home!!
"Anyway, I meant some survival skills. If you do get lost again, even if it's not on a mysterious planet or anything, wouldn't you like to be able to get around as well as I can?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
'Pruney', she says. His expression creases as if in mild distaste. ...Does he not have any older relatives?
(Things go a little differently in Solaris, to an extent.)
"To say nothing of the-- damage it can do to the skin," he says, catching himself before he can remark on something far more puzzling to her ears. Such as 'the induction of DNA damage from solar radiation', for instance.
Instead, he'll just have to live with his comment being a bit of a reiteration of his apparent issues from before, of sun and its burning properties...
He wonders if it's the same here on Lunar, or if it's just another defect in Filgaia's atmosphere. The wages of the past sins of the Lambs.
There's nothing there between the sheets of the rain. Just the horizon across the field and the falling precipitation.
He rubs at his temples, feeling the distant echo of the headache coming back. Maybe he's pressing too hard again.
"...It's nothing," he says, grimacing as he drops his hand away.
"As well as you can." From anyone else, it'd just be a neutral-enough comment. From him, even if there's no particular inflection to be had here it's... kind of judgey.
He's had survival training. (If of a team-support, front-lines-focused, implicit 'you'll probably never need this' sort.)
Still, while pride alone might have normally provoked him to pass on the offer, he still doesn't provide an answer immediately as he leans against the tree.
Until: "...Fine. I suppose I'll be doing a lot of travel."
Let someone think you need them. Let them think they have the upper hand. It's a valid strategy, when dealing with social dynamics.
...He thinks, fleetingly: this is underhanded.
But she's not really human anyway, comes the psychic rejoinder. Not like you are.
Still, where did he learn that one...?
Oh. Right.
His expression flat, distant, he returns his attention to the far horizon.
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
She can't help but chuckle a little at the expression on his face at the word 'pruney'. "What, do old people really not get wrinkley if they spend all their time inside?!" Maybe cities really are that different...!
He looks even unhappier than usual, she thinks, though Lan's ability to parse Thomasian is still limited. Maybe he's not feeling well. Has he caught a chill or something? Lan thinks about how she's been saving the last bits of tea for a special occasion and hums quietly. "..." Well, if they're going to be here for a little bit... she might as well. After all, a single flame can light two candles. Something like that, right?
She finds the tea tin and shakes the last of it out into her water jug, laying Moor Galt's medium on the cool ground in front of her feet. "O you of rising cinders, O you of the hearth..."
Even if Thomas is kind of a jerk, she wants tea.
The medium bursts into flame, a simple tin-colored plate burning as if it were coated in fuel. Lan carefully rests the small water jug on top. "I bet I'm a bit more prepared for the wilds of the moon than you are," Lan smiles at him, undaunted by the rain. The burning medium won't be enough to dry their clothes or even warm them properly, but it'll boil the water in her canteen! (Also she wants to show off a little bit; she caught his tone of voice!) "Fine. The first lesson is 'never assume you know more about something than someone else'." She's still smiling when she says it, so maybe Lan doesn't mean it too harshly.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Has he caught something? It's possible -- not beyond the realm of possibility, in any case. He likely looks the bookish type, and they've been caught out in more than a few bouts of rough weather. Though, it's not so much the cold causing a cold in such cases so much as...
Regardless, he watches what she's doing in mild confusion for a moment or three, before, as if catching on to what she's doing, comments, "You know the rain will just put it out, right?"
Is he ever not a pessimist?
But at least follows the remark with the more mild: "Is that Guardianist magic? I didn't know it could be used like that."
He thinks, again, of the stone tablet, stuffed away in the depths of the bag slung over his shoulder. It was supposed to do... something, wasn't it? Yet it won't respond to him, at least not last he tried, months ago.
He shouldn't concern himself with it. It's just surface-dweller nonsense.
And yet, he still hasn't thrown it out, has he.
"...Are you?" Perhaps that struck a nerve; he actually sounds a little irritated rather than his usual straight-up elitist.
Water quickly boils.
He has a firestarting kit in his bag, but...
Lan delivers the very first lesson for free. And Loren, well, bears the approximate expression of someone who has just swallowed a bug and mildly regretted the experience.
"...Great. Fine," he mutters, sinking against the tree trunk as if well and truly 'done with this', sliding down into a crouch there under the tree as water patters down past the leaves.
"What a truly stunning point you have made," he says as flatly as ever as he stares into the little flame shed by the Medium.
"..."
<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.
"It takes more than just rain to put this out." She doesn't think many outsiders (or city people in general) have seen a shaman at work. Lan herself has seen some people use things they call Crest Graphs, which look a lot more like math to her than they do magic. "This is Moor Galt," she continues, apparently referring to the medium itself. "The Guardian of Flame - though I guess you probably figured that out." She's a shaman, this is what Lan does... Even if nothing else makes sense, even if everything is harder than it needs to be, she can count on hearing the whispers of the wind in her ears or the pull of Rigdobrite's gravity against her breastbone.
Put crudely, 'magic'.
"You can use it for lots of things. Many people just think to use it for fireballs or whatever, but things like lighting a fire to cook are just as important for forging a bond. It's the same as with other people." Surely Thomas knows that already... about other people, that is. You'll never learn anything about someone else if you do nothing but fight with them. What about eating with them, sleeping near them, traveling with them? How much could you truly learn about someone if you only ever saw them committing violence? She glances at Thomas, and there's something akin to sympathy - or perhaps pity - hidden in her eyes.
How much does she know about Thomas, really?
"C'mon, you'll catch a cold if you don't warm up," she says after a moment, and wraps the canteen in her spare shirt to protect their hands before passing it over.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Technically, he's seen Shamanic works before -- as used by Drifters -- and has even come face-to-face with a pair of Guardians, but...
This is without a doubt his first sighting of more practical magic.
"Moor Gault."
Fire. Right, he remembers that one from briefing. Apparently a commonly worshipped one, if he's going by intel's report.
Just like Solarian traditions, in a way: water, fire, wind, earth -- a group of Guardians circulates around the elements. But there are more than that -- more Guardians. Twenty-some, weren't there? It had been at one point important reading, but he's having trouble bringing them all to mind.
Light, and darkness. Sea, sky...
Mountain, he thinks, reminded again of the Medium in his bag.
"Well, of course. There's practical applications for everything," he says, reflecting briefly on the hiss of the water as it impacts the unyielding flame, the earth, baking, beneath the ambient heat. "Though, it depends on what you're trying to do. Just lighting a fire isn't enough sometimes."
Not when what the mission calls for is maximum application of force.
Or if, in a more metaphorical sense, you're convinced that lighting a fire won't keep the darkness away so much as drag what lurks out there in the night in.
That's how it is, with other people.
It's that look in her eyes though that gives him pause. He straightens where he's crouched, as if his hackles were raised. Is that...
Don't look at me like that.
But before he can recoil or retreat -- wherever that would be -- she hands the heated canteen over.
"..."
He takes it in both hands.
"...You're a strange girl," he comments, before looking away.