(no subject)

[theboogieman]

Who: IT'S A GAME MINGLE GET IN THE VAN
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: All of it!
When: Second half of the month.

[hey everyone! how's it been going? how's medieval-fun-time-world treating you? anyone pillaged and burned anything yet? got kicked out of the castle? been planning expeditions? registered for jousting? busy angsting for the last two weeks on your ship?

this is a mingle for everybody, whether they're hiding in the volcano, out and about in the city, or up on one of those random random stations where you can get quirky souvenirs.]

Comments

ACTION | TOWN

[theboogieman]

[he's very close to the Generic Prayer Courtyard, actually. it's quieter around here, there are places to sit. it's away from the crowd. whether or not your modulator is on or off (the difference between him looking like a normal dude or a dude with a skull painted on his face), he's sitting at the base of a tree, back to the drunk, hunched over a very nice-looking crossbow.

it was probably expensive. he's taking it apart, carefully, putting all the pieces on a blanket next to him. to the unfamiliar he probably looks deeply and intently focused... but his friends might pick up that he's less tense than he usually looks. he's probably happy as a clam, picking apart this contraption.]

[noctiphile]

[Mattias tries his best to avoid Zhas. He truly does, sticking to the opposite edge of the courtyard once he spots him. Still, the blanket spread in front of him draws interest and reels him in until, in a matter of minutes, he's hovering over the blanket, tutting and tsking over the array of parts.]

No, no, this is all wrong.

[Muttering under his breath, he glances at Zhas as if noticing him for the first time. Waves a bit.] Honestly, I've no idea how to greet you.

[Though he doubts it matters. And, after their first meeting, he certainly doesn't care. He points down at the crossbow.] What type is this? Recurve? Repeating? [Crouching down, uninvited. At least he's not touching anything.] The construction is different than what I've seen.

[theboogieman]

[well, Zhas doesn't punch him in the throat, so it must have been as good a greeting as any.

he does... stare at him, though. maybe not sure how to answer. maybe not sure if he should dignify any of that with an answer. he's paused in what he's doing, waiting for something.]

[noctiphile]

What? [He raises an eyebrow before taking the silence as a cue and crouching down, pointing to each fragmented piece.] See these three? All of those belong to the repeating's trigger mechanism but aren't found in the recurve. But these [He motions to four other pieces.] are found in it. Which would mean this was some... bizarre unholy child of the two. Maybe even the three. Because this... [He frowns.] No, no. This is all wrong.

[Puzzled, he perches his chin on one hand and continues mulling it over, until-he looks up.] ... That was the question you were asking, wasn't it?

[theboogieman]

[Zhas... has not moved. he's got a small metal pick in his hand, wedged carefully between two parts, but it has not changed angles or gotten any further since Mattias first decided to sit down. the energy disparity between the both of them might actually be enough to power a lightbulb.

oh. look. he's shaking his head.]

[noctiphile]

[His lips thin in a vain attempt to keep himself from blushing.] ... Oh.

[He clears his throat, trying to recover.]

Then what?

[theboogieman]

[...after a silent pause, Zhas leans over to the side not covered in blanket and spare parts, patting the ground. seems somewhat... inviting.

sit down, buddy. before you hurt yourself.]

[noctiphile]

[His brow wrinkles but... he accepts. Tentatively. Extremely tentatively, settling down cross-legged, hands braced on either knee. Miraculously, he remains silent, watching Zhas intently before, finally, the inevitable question comes:]

... What now?

[theboogieman]

[Zhas, for a moment or two, goes back to working. he slowly separates the locking mechanism from where it's nestled in the wood. pays no mind to Mattias' anxiousness, even when he asks a question.

he does, however, finally decide to speak with that dry, gravelly, monotone voice of his:]

Separating the parts. Better quality than the others. Need to rebuild a device I made back home--repeating bolt mechanism. Arm brace. Not as bulky...

[he sets the newly-separated part on the blanket, with the others. flips the thing upside-down. starts picking at something else.]

Wrought iron isn't good for modding, but its better than anything else I've seen. Need to get other parts from... Ship, maybe. It's a start.

[noctiphile]

A repeating bolt mechanism. [He repeats in awe, leaning over to peek at the dismantlement.] I've never heard of one being as small as an arm brace.

[Surprisingly, he watches in silence for a long while, studying and memorizing each move made. It's clear he has every intention of watching the piece progress. Less clear he's even considering writing it down. Something tells him Zhas won't take kindly to that information. He keeps it to himself.]

... If we can take parts from the ships—what would you need?

[theboogieman]

[they usually aren't that small. that thing was kind of a... marvel of engineering, even on his own world. took him a long time to figure it out. having to figure it out again will keep him busy for a while.]

Not sure.

[...which might be true. maybe he doesn't know. or maybe he doesn't want Mattias trying to dig into his design and learn how to dismantle his only effective weapon. depends on how smart Mattias thinks Zhas is.

balancing the bow on his lap, he picks at it with one hand... while his other hand goes up towards Mattias in a sign. or maybe a loose fist? his attention stays on his work.]

[noctiphile]

[What a vague answer. He frowns at it, though not for long. The fist distracts him and he tilts his head to consider it, mimicking the sign in his own hand before inquiring.]

Is this more of your language? [Again, he tries to mimic it. Doesn't do a half-bad job at it, so he thinks. Is the fist supposed to be loose?] What does it mean?

[theboogieman]

A.

[good job, Mattias. if there's one good thing about dweeby bookish types, it's that they're refreshingly good at absorbing information given to them. he glances up at him just long enough to put his fingers in a different sign.]

B.

[noctiphile]

[Oh!! It's the alphabet! How exciting! Mattias seems delighted, beaming as he mimics the next sign, once, twice, three times. Then, to test his new knowledge, he signs the B, then three A's, chuckling at his own... really awful joke.]

It's a sheep.

[blindoptimism]

[Nunnally has been enjoying the temple more and more during their stay. While she's not big on religion, it's quiet, peaceful, and the gardens surrounding it are lovely. As she's wandering towards it this day, she notices Zhas, although she's still surprised at the difference that the modulator makes. She watches him like a creeper for a moment before she rolls her wheelchair more pointedly in his direction. He does look quite peaceful, and for that she's glad. He deserves more happy moments of peace :').

When she gets close enough to speak in a soft tone (she figures temples have similar rules to libraries, right?) she speaks up]

Hello, Zhas. [ahah, and she... waves a little. She would have waved earlier as she approached, but this dumb "authentic" chair takes both hands to roll herself around]

[theboogieman]

[he looks up a little before she speaks, since he can hear her getting closer--the "historically accurate" wheelchair gets a momentary glance-over before his focus is on her again. he calmly removes the metal bit from where he had it wedged, setting the partly-dissected bow down in his lap.

he's got a little smile for her. they've probably been practicing, so he signs for her:]

How are you?

[blindoptimism]

[oh snap. Ooh, she sits up really straight in her chair as he begins to sign. Focusing intensely. She probably always takes practice way too seriously]

Good. [she pauses, her hand twitching slightly as she thinks out the sentence that she wants to sign before she does so]

Where did you get that?

[theboogieman]

[he nods a little in approval--she's been studying hard, so he can forgive the hesitation. no matter how bad she might have ever been, he still prefers this to having to speak out loud.

he pauses himself, a moment, looking elsewhere. what's the word for it?]

Store. Black S-M-I-T-H. It was a lot of money...

[blindoptimism]

[it takes her a second to mentally put blacksmith together in her mind, but once she understands she nods and can't help but laugh a little. Again, a pause to formulate]

I am happy you got a thing you like.

[hmm... she knows what she wants to say, but doesn't know the word to say it. Or if it even is a word] It looks u-s-e-f-u-l.

[theboogieman]

[oh... okay he starts signing something very fast that has complicated words in it. something about creating something to do with his arm?]

[blindoptimism]

Ah, w-wait... [she says it without meaning too and covers her mouth, looking embarrassed, and raises her hand to sign]

Slower please.

[theboogieman]

[oh... whoops. he looks a little apologetic, and thinks back to where he'd started.]

I am taking this into parts... to build a w-e-a-p-o-n. Goes on arm. I had one at home.

[blindoptimism]

On your arm... [she pauses in signing to think about it. So she sort of... stares at his arm for a second, trying to picture it]

I didn't-- [oh right] I didn't know you were [she pauses, shakes her head and mentally goes back a few words. But that means that this sentence is probably a bit of a mess] you make things.

[theboogieman]

[he has to put up with Coil's distracted, excited, one-handed signing sometimes--so he can mostly keep up. nodding.]

Yes. I don't understand the t-e-c-h here, but I like to be busy.

[blindoptimism]

[hmmm she rests her hand upon the side of her cheeks as she studies him, and then asks]

Will you learn the t-e-c-h? There is a lot of time?

[she doesn't know if he enjoys making things, though...]