JULY PLANET MINGLE

[save_the_souls]

Who: YOU. ME. EVERYONE.
Broadcast: IF YOU WANT
Action: YEAH!!!!!
When: July!

[Congratulations to the crews that did not get themselves blown up! Welcome to the Blue Planet, a planet full of charming islands and even less charming weather patterns! Are you going to take the time to enjoy the beach? Help out with the local Nunnilis population? Get caught in a storm with another person and have a rating boosting sexual tension moment? The world's your oyster!]

[Yeah in other words: ITS A MINGLE GET IN HERE]

[July Planet Info!]

Comments

[stickupherforehead]

A: Beach

[Pearl does not seem to really notice the picturesque scenery around her and instead, she's hanging out in the shade, a large piece of obsidian in one hand and a rock in the other. There's a large pile of the volcanic rock in the sand next to her, along with a few finished dagger blades. The one she's working on right now seems to be larger, however.

She might be, quite literally, the antithesis of fun.]

B: Work

[she's got to get all that rock from somewhere. So it looks like she's working on some engineering project or another. She's already got her clipboard in hand and is bossily telling workers where to place building materials and using her hologram powers to guide them into putting objects into the exact spot she wants.]

No, no. You need to put that two more centimeters to the right. Your other right.

C: Anything else

[you could find her staring blankly off into the horizon when she runs out of things to do. There is little enough tech here and she's not exactly invested in any of these aliens.

And all this beach only reminds her of home.]

B??

[catamite]

[watching people work on big projects, demonstrating responsibility and drive, is really pretty fascinating to Nel. so, as he's wandering around with alcoholic algae-drink in hand, this commotion easily makes him detour on over.

the woman with the clipboard (and thing on her forehead) is obviously in charge, so that's who he heads towards. Pearl gets a sunburned kid with pointy ears and a bit of a buzz going on, walking up and watching the work with detached awe.]

Wow... what's going on?

[stickupherforehead]

[she's not even looking away from the toiling workers]

We're repairing and fortifying some of these buildings here. The conditions really are quite deplorable, especially given intensity of the weather systems around here.

[and then she's finally looking at you, quickly taking in the sunburn as well as the alcohol (she has no idea what's up with the ears, but then again, she also associates elves with fantastical tattoos all over their face).]

Are you here to help?

[catamite]

[oh... and there is the slow-dawning deer-in-headlights look. he hadn't even considered the fact that he might get roped into the project if he got too close.

that all sure looks like physical labor, and that isn't exactly his thing... but he also really fails at telling people no... so he's silently beginning to worry.

he looks down at the drink in his hand.]

Well, um... I was just kind of looking around...

[stickupherforehead]

That's quite alright. It's not something that takes a lot of skill. [better say no now...

And she's holding her pen to her clipboard and looking expectantly at you.] I'm Pearl. What's your name?

[catamite]

N-Nel.

[wait, no. don't tell her your name! then she'll have you!]

I still have... my drink though, so...

[stickupherforehead]

Nel. [aaaaand she is dutifully writing it down.]

You can just set that over there. [she points at a table in the corner with her pen. Looks like workers' belongings, including their lunches.] Nobody will touch it.

And how would you like to be paid? Algae, fish, obsidian, or alcohol? A bit of each?

[at least it's not outright slavery, though those employers certainly seem to know what they're doing. There's a raucous cheer from the workers at the mention of the word 'alcohol.']

[catamite]

[he's just kind of nervously clutching his drink, looking more and more despairing as the moments go on...


until the mention of booze. his ears literally perk up a little. the rousing cheers from the workers help too.

so tentatively--]

You can get paid in alcohol?

[stickupherforehead]

Yes. A few of the owners of these buildings typically sell such things, so they've offered up part of their stores as bartering items. [it's probably the least expensive sort of libation, but at least it can still get you drunk.

And apparently, all you have to do is show up with a clipboard to get put in charge.]

So I'll be putting you down for just alcohol?

[catamite]

[if Nel had a discerning bone in his body, he might have asked what kind of alcohol it might be, or how much, but he really... doesn't even think to ask.]

Yeah. I guess so.

...I just have to work a little bit? Is it hard?

[stickupherforehead]

[hmmmm. Pearl leans forward to examine him, hand to her chin.]

How much can you lift?

[catamite]

[he's in shape... but he's definitely got more of a dancer's build than anyone used to hard labor. even the question is confusing to him.]

...What do you mean?

[stickupherforehead]

[Pearl has the same sort of build, but she's still stronger than the average human - which is why she's asking.]

Do you see those people over there? [she points her pen at two muscly guys wrestling a large support beam into place.] Can you do that?

A

[experiencepoints]

Finally.

[It's not hard to notice someone building weapons, after Nightingale's spent the entire time on the planet searching for one. So, when she finds someone doing just that, she jumps to an obvious conclusion.]

Are you the local weaponsmith?

[... Well, it's a conclusion, anyway.]

[stickupherforehead]

[Pearl looks up, blinking. She's got the rock in midair, poised to chip off a tiny piece of obsidian.]

Yeeeea-no. I'm from the ships, [squint] same as you.

[probably the same as you. You don't look like a local.]

[experiencepoints]

[yeah, she is as far from local as you can get]

Oh. I didn't know we had people who could make weapons up there.

[stickupherforehead]

Well, it's rather primitive, as weapons go, but one makes do.

Besides - [she squints down the edge of the piece she's working on] - the brittleness of obsidian is off-putting.

[experiencepoints]

Yeah, it's definitely not something I'd want a staff made of.

[She peers down closer at what Pearl's making.]

Are you making one of those swords that uses obsidian shards, then?

[stickupherforehead]

Eventually. I'm not too sure how well it'll hold up in combat, but something is better than nothing.

Still, we won't be lacking for daggers or arrowheads. [judging by the neat lines of finished blades she's got next to her. The ones closest to her are a bit rougher, but they progressively get better as they go down the line.]

They're very protective of their wood, though I could probably take some of these to trade for it.

[experiencepoints]

If they're protective of their wood, no wonder I can't find a staff... I wonder what the big deal is?

[stickupherforehead]

[hmm] Considering how there are no real forests around, I would say what little wood they do have are seen as valuable resources to be carefully cultivated.

[experiencepoints]

So... They should cultivate it more.

[what do you mean it's not that simple]

[stickupherforehead]

[bliiiink]

Well, I'm no botanist, but I'm rather certain they do not have enough suitable land to grow their palm-like trees.

[experiencepoints]

What, a place this size doesn't have any magic-users who can fix that?

[stickupherforehead]

[magic is rather...well.]

They couldn't even figure out the fungal infection.