pub crawl o'clock

[airily]

Who: Zaveid and the fleet!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the Iskaulit
When: Right now!

So.

Who wants a drink?

[ Someone is not very happy about the things he's remembering, no sir. As always, resonance permissions are here! ]

Comments

[airily]

[ And Zaveid just lets her get on with it, not complaining too much. He does take care of his hair and there aren't that many tangles. ]

Oh? Huh. The Huntress.

[sylphid]

[She'll make a sarcastic jab at him later if she remembers.]

What's it like there?

[airily]

[ Rude af, that's what you are. ]

Quiet, I guess? I've got a room with planets and stuff so I mostly hang out there.

[sylphid]

You have planets in your room? How's that work?

[Forkcombing done, she moves to start a braid now.]

[airily]

Well, like little bits of them. [ He shrugs. ] Grass from here, stuff from there. Y'know.

[sylphid]

Oh, like a collection of things. That could get creepy pretty quickly.

[airily]

It's alright. It's just so I've got some clean air to breathe.

[sylphid]

I guess that's something. The things I've been getting are more fun.

[Only by her definition.]

[airily]

More fun than bein' able to breathe?

[sylphid]

The ships provide oxygen for us. So yeah.

[She tugs a little on his hair to get him to stop moving.]

[airily]

It's gross. [ But, fine!! He stays still. ] Guess it's a wind seraph thing, huh.

[sylphid]

Oh, huh. [She'd forgotten about that.] Maybe it is. I haven't heard anyone else complain.

Turn a little to the left.

[airily]

It ain't right, that's what it is. [ But he turns and lets her do what she do. ] You should come see.

[sylphid]

Come see what? [From somewhere, she gets a rubber band and ties off the first braid before moving to a new one.]

[airily]

The room, or the ship. Whichever.

[sylphid]

Mm, thanks, but I think you're a little old for me.

[She tugs on a piece of hair to get him to stay still.]

[airily]

[ He groans. ]

Not what I'm asking for.

[sylphid]

Nice save.

[Fie continues her work.]

Why then?

[airily]

So you can see it, duh. Sorey put a lot of work into it.

[sylphid]

Sure. But what's a Sorey?

[airily]

Oh. Uh. He's my... [ What's the right word? Shepherd might not mean anything, and the complicated familial feelings he has towards Sorey are a bit much to describe to himself, let alone others. ] Friend.

[sylphid]

[She hums in suspicion.]

It took you too long to think of the right word. Is he why you didn't 'mean it like that?'

[airily]

What! No, not him. [ Wait, whatever. ] He's a kid.

[sylphid]

So are you Gramps to him, too?

[The "not him" is filed away for later.]

[airily]

... No. I'm Zaveid.