You can check out anytime you'd like.. [Hotel Corona Mingle]

[thespaceopera]

Who: The Fleet!
Broadcast: If you want
Action: Hotel Corona or Planet Ikke
When: December 7th onward



[After the mystery and isolation of their last destination, the Marsiva seems determined to head to brighter, busier territory. After a long journey through remote, nebula-painted space, speeding along at a brisk pace for the Host ship, the Marsiva brings her Fleet to a sudden and prominent point of traffic.

It seems that the Fleet has happened upon some sort of vacation destination! Maybe Atroma thinks that the passengers deserve some rest and relaxation... or just wants to distract them with something huge and shiny.

Welcome to Hotel Corona! Feel free to enjoy yourselves and enjoy the sites! If a hotel resort isn't your thing, you can head on over to the nearby planet and explore it's icy wonders.

In order words: it's a mingle!! Everyone get in! ]

[>> Plot Post]

Comments

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[arcanepower]

[Silvermoon is in a constant state of magical summer/early autumn. As a result, snow is a bit of an uncommon thing for Belthazar. He only ever dealt with it when he was stationed in Northrend, which was so cold it was completely not fun at all. But he's a scholar and so he is here to take notes, aided by a magical enchanted quill and a levitating journal. He glances around while dictating the following:]

Six feet of snow in this area. At least four inches of permafrost, possibly more. Will have to dig to make sure. Mana seems in short supply compared to the last green planet, which is a blessing and a curse. End entry, thank you.

[He's just noticed Mikleo, judging by the way his face lights up. It's very subtle compared to some people, but there's genuine relief in the gentle rise of his eyebrows and the curve of his lips.]

Ah, Mikle--

[Despite wearing a coat that only reaches his knees, he's somehow found a way to slip on the snow. He holds out his hands for balance but it's too late; he goes sliding headfirst into a deep snowdrift and then it's only his boots sticking out.

Rest in peace.]

[nerdeology]

[Was that his name? Almost?

....

Are those feet?

Mikleo abandons the arte he'd been working on, letting it drift away harmlessly, and hurries to the poor person trapped under the snow. He skids to a stop in front of the snowdrift and thrusts his hand out, as if to push someone; the snow around the body inside blows away as if caught in a strong force of wind, revealing-]

Oh! Belthazar. Are you okay?

[Have a hand up, buddy.]

[arcanepower]

[Belth wiggles his feet a little, but it isn't until Mikleo moves the snow that he can properly extricate himself. Thank goodness for water seraphim. He huffs a bit, but he takes the hand that's offered to him. His other arm rubs at his face to dispel the last bit of snow clinging to it, but his hair is kind of a lost cause.]

T-thanks. I'm all right-- I suppose some things you simply do not grow out of.

[Also, he's still shorter than Mikleo. DAMN IT.]

Were you training?

[nerdeology]

[Heh heh, shorty. At least he won't make a comment about it?]

Training... yeah, I guess you could call it that. I'm experimenting with how fine-detailed I can get with my artes.

[Though it might really be a stretch to call his growing forest of ice sculptures "training"...]

[arcanepower]

[Now that he's sorted himself out (and his journal), Belthazar takes a proper look at the field of statues. It... looks a bit eerie, truth be told, like an angry water elemental ran over a small town. At least they're not in grotesque shapes trying to scream.]

Wow, they're... very detailed. I would be hard-pressed to conjure something like that with ice.

[He might be able to do something with arcane magic, but it's always lent itself to appearances.]

Water may be your field of expertise, Mikleo, but you have an eye for the arts. That much is obvious.

[He walks up to a sculpture-- careful not to slip, this time-- and inspects it a little more closely with his hands behind his back.]

[nerdeology]

[The animals and structures are more detailed, pulled from nature and the memories of the planet. The footsteps of the animals across the snow create echoes of their pawprints, their body weight, the way they move. The world feels their shapes, the snow falls on their bodies. Such images come more easily to him.

The people are far more nondescript, vague shapes that aren't so easily recognized, just random residents rather than known figures. There's something about an especially detailed face that unnerves him - like the Medusa's cathedral, seeing Sergei's brother and his men frozen in stone for eternity. Even if it's just ice, and not real people, it would be weird to replicate the effect.]

I think I still prefer making clothes. One day, when I'm older, though... the ancient seraphim had the power to create whole buildings using their artes. It would be amazing to see that kind of power return to the world.