lifeaftr | CLOTHING ADVENTURES

CLOTHING ADVENTURES

Who: Anyone! Everyone!
What: Clothes were requested. Clothes are now granted.
When: morning of the 22nd initially
Where: meet me at the room that's literally filled to the brim with clothing in 15 minutes
Warnings: It's just clothes, what could possibly go wrong!
Notes: Everyone gets free clothes whether they participated in the actual request or not. CLOTHES FOR THE ENTIRE ISLAND.

There's a room in the Storyteller's temple; it was once empty, and now it's...not. It is, in fact, full of clothing of all sorts, to the point that it might be slightly difficult to find exactly what you're looking for.

Oh well. It's there now, no takebacks.

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I hope they've got enough self-reflection to think about what they've done.

[He can't argue with the fact that people like him ended up here; he's inextricably drawn into adventure after adventure despite his best efforts. But when it's kids, it's - it's always different.]

[They didn't ask for this.]

Depends what they're really like.

[Because they just might not care, ever.

Her mind turns to Sharkface, pausing there, as she thinks about the people who end up here. If he ever showed up... She'd given him chances to stop, not wanting to hurt him, let alone kill him, yet it hadn't mattered in the end. He had been driven, just like she had once been, and he hadn't cared.

Turning her eyes again, she seeks out faces. In some ways, it's hard to guess ages. She's mid-thirties but at times feels like she's double that.]

I take it they're more or less in the same boat we are?

[Those who are younger...]

I guess you could say that. At least one of them knows how to operate military-grade explosives, so that's where we are now.

[Which, while a fundamentally distressing aside, is not one he took any time to grapple with; it hadn't been necessary in the moment, and getting upset over it wasn't going to accomplish anything.]

[Now, though.]

[How many children here know how to fight? How many carry weapons? How many have already learned to attack first, and ask questions later?]

[ . . . ]

A skill they learned where they came from?

[Or here? Although here seems less likely, given the state of affairs. Which... Neither is the proper answer, but Carolina has to wonder at a world where kids have access to military-grade explosives, let alone someone to teach them.

Or least she hopes it was taught and not by trial and error. That could well be worse. Not that any of the situations are better than the other. Yet she shakes her head.]

Have to wonder where these kids come from.

Apparently. Got a hell of a half-assed tutorial, but I'm not sure if teaching them more about bombs crosses some kind of ethical boundary at this point. Probably best if they don't blow themselves or anyone else up unless they mean to, right?

[Not that he doesn't lower ethical standards basically wherever he goes. He should also maybe work on talking about this in a less flip tone, like it ain't no thing.]

Homes just like ours, presumably.

[No, she can say that teaching kids more about weapons isn't in her game plan. Teaching them to survive or defend themselves? Possibly. One doesn't need to fight for that, just know how best to get out of a situation.]

Mn. You'd think some places might learn to do it better.

You'd think, but I'm learning it's best not to assume.

[Everyone here is, as he's come to understand it, pretty fucked up.]

Genocide is a multiversal constant. Who knew?

[Assuming makes an ass out of you and me.

The saying turns around in her head, but there's nothing she can do for other places.]

Best to focus on what we can do here.

So. Shopping?

[He picks up what looks like might have meant to be a pink sleep mask, considers that Donut would've probably personally adored it, and quickly discards it.]

That's the most "in the moment" think we've got going on right now.

[Right. Shopping. She'd all but forgotten. Although does it really constitute as shopping?

She might, just might, give a little choked cough at the pink number he has, and discards.]

Not keeping that? The pink brings out the blond in your hair.

[How she manages to keep a straight face with that, she doesn't know, but she does. Dead serious. At least for a moment, until she's moving on.]

Strange to think about. No armies fighting each other. No rogue mercenaries. No missing tech... Just- shopping.

They actually have fresh fruit here. It's just...weird to think about.

[He used to smuggle fruit from the mess into his locker, on the Invention. It had been a rarity, being able to afford fruit at all, and he'd taken full advantage of it. After years of once again getting used to basics, to M.R.E.s and intravenous rations and eating as a purely utilitarian function, something as simple as prepared meals felt like a luxury.]

[Maybe not to anyone else here.]

So long as you actually take your helmet off to eat it.

[But, that is good. Even with the strangely names restuarant that Carolina has yet to visit, it's good that there are alternate sources. Still... She'll have to look at supplies and what can be easily stored. She'd rather be prepared than not.]

Nothing strange about it though, is there? It's not going to talk to me if I take a bite out of it?

Talk to you.

[THAT'S....CONCERNING...AS A FIRST ASSUMPTION...]

I think the only concern is that some stuff is poisonous. But. Uh. Why do you think anything is going to talk to you?

Uh. Hello. Talking dream rabbit? Talking spider?

[Poison she can deal with. Poison is normal.]

I don't want to know if you've tried taking bites out of spiders. I don't think I ever want to know.

["Rabbit" is a little more reasonable, but...deity, supposedly? God, he doesn't want to think about this. He is making a command decision to stop thinking about it.]

I haven't.

[Dryly. At least not to the best of her knowledge and belief. That isn't the point she had been trying to make though. Rather, that this place has all sorts of strange things in it, like talking animals, which is not normal. Why wouldn't there be something odd about the fruit?]

I don't think you have to worry about that here. You get stuff like blue milk, but it tastes like normal milk if you ignore the color.

[Still better than most M.R.E.s, in his humble opinion.]

[Blue milk... Cow milk? Naturally blue? Is it actually even milk?

You know, she doesn't want to know where it comes from. She really needs to look at Denny and see what is on the menu. Heck, just look around more in general. She's gotten some of the lay of the land, but no where near enough.]

Good to know, even if the thought of blue milk is a bit off putting.

And the fact that it's milked from...these things with horns? The look like moose, but they're not moose, and they're also bright teal.

[They're actually literally teal deer, and thank god that Wash doesn't have the requisite knowledge of lingo to understand that reverence.]

[There is so much about that whole sentence that just sounds so wrong...]

Elk? Deer? ... Caribou?

[If it's something else, she has no idea what. None of them are exactly standard milking animals. Or, is it some huge goat that he's talking about?]

Yeah, but blue.

[This place has its own ecosystem, and that ecosystem is "technicolor wildlife that likes to defy physics." Apparently.]

I'm sorry, I just- someone is milking them...

[For blue milk... She knows people hunt those kinds of creatures, but milk them? To her knowledge they have never really been domesticated like a cow or a goat.

Although it shifts across her face, that different way of looking at it, because maybe here, they are domesticated?]

I'm just- going to try not to think about that too hard.

That's kind of how I deal with it. I got some coffee beans a little while ago, but the results aren't...perfect.

[He's so very not good at anything that pertains to the tending of crops or the growing of food or...any kind of grunt work at all. That's a little bit too basic. In theory he could probably learn, but...]

I have no idea how to grow coffee beans, it turns out.

In other words, decline any coffee that you offer me...

[Not that she would be much better. Plant the bean to make it grow? How long? She knows that beans are roasted for coffee- or she thinks that they always are. She's never actually paid attention to the process of how they get from point a to point b, being her cup.]

Hey, it's not like there's a surplus of coffee here.

[Caffeine dependency is a liability in the field, and yet? He misses it. He misses having that extra jolt to keep him awake, functional - sentient and vertical by 0700 hours is the ideal.]

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