februari

The Infected

Hum de dum.

The Infected

How would you prefer dialog between characters, especially where more than two may be involved, be handled?

The Infected

I started a new titanpad for collab since we're all kind of coming together at https://lostlandsshani.titanpad.com/4. It's public, so make sure you save changes in case we need to do a revert.

The Infected

Jørgen Kuyper was a broad, well-muscled man in his mid twenties. A thick, protruding brow and general abundance of dark facial and arm hair lent him a neanderthal-esque appearance befitting the enforcer stereotype, and that he possessed the requisite sour demeanor and aptitude for violence rounded it out nicely. He'd only been in Barrowside a few years, but being a fascist at heart made him a natural fit, so he'd garnered a healthy measure of respect among his peers. That alone shielded him from rumors of heavy-handedness with several of the women in 5A, for there were no witnesses with enough credibility to pit their word against his. Cristi, however, had taken matters into his own hands after a woman he'd know since childhood, and even seen casually for a brief time, shared her brutal and humiliating encounter with Kuyper. Her account prompted him to re-wire a prototype stun device Jørgen was to test, such that the discharge points were routed to the grip instead of the primary leads. The effect was shocking, rendering the enforcer unconscious for several minutes and leaving his hand with serious electrical burns. Two weeks had passed and Jørgen's hand improved daily, which caused concern for some and anticipation for others, as he'd sworn to kill Cristi and was certainly belligerent enough to try.

Cristi's mood was sour as he made his way across the compound, cursing his decision to spend the day in the motor pool, as it was literally the farthest point in Barrowside from his apartment. However, his situation was deteriorating rapidly with the System and other scientists, between the incident with Jørgen and his roommate constantly undermining his position with them, such that field work made for more pleasant days of late. Daniel Webster was perhaps the only one who wasn't on his ass from dawn til dusk and, fortunately, he was an applied guy as well so it was easy enough to get him over with the laborers from time to time. Of course, that was also Mike and Sean's territory as well, and he'd have preferred their company even under good circumstances. They were the silver lining to the figurative cloud following him.

That it was third Friday should have been the ray of sunshine but, again, the incident with Jørgen soured the day. Mina. As early as he could remember, even when girls were icky and had cooties, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and he'd never stopped chasing his angel. As a child, he'd followed her around like a puppy, and as a teen he'd flirted with her mercilessly, eventually asking her out on a "date", such as they were in Barrowside, every week for a year until she finally said yes. They'd been off and on ever since, the awkwardness of adolescent immaturity transitioning to adult complexity always seeming to get in the way. Cristi thought they'd finally found each other, though, over the last couple months until Kuyper showed up in the infirmary. She genuinely cared for people, whether they deserved it or not, and he loved that about her, perhaps more than anything else, but he'd underestimated its depth. Everyone knew, whether they admitted it or not, that Kuyper had some payback coming and it wasn't that, at least as far as he could surmise, that bothered Mina. It was that Cristi had inflicted it. They tried to talk it out, but he'd hit a nerve and was too stubborn to apologize, so they'd left it on bad terms and hadn't spoken since.

Cristi was soaked by the time he reached his apartment. As he slung the door open, it was evident by the smell that his roommate was already home and cooking something horrible. The man had no sense of taste at all and always seemed to go for the most offensive-smelling foods imaginable. Seriously, Cristi hadn't believed preserved things could smell as rancid as what Richard managed to bring home, but the man was as cheap as they came and would gladly risk a questionable can if it saved a token. "Missed you today." A sneering call came from the main room which, given the cramped accommodations, was just a few feet away. "Strong back, weak mind. Isn't that what the System sends to 5A? Well, while you were hanging out with your under-achievers, we got some news. Jørgen Kuyper's going active in a couple days."

At 6'1", Cristi was half a head taller than Richard and, from his involvement in construction, in considerably better shape, so he momentarily considered thrashing the man's skull against the wall a few times. Yeah, that would go over well with Mina. And the System. He was a hair's breadth from some serious disciplinary action and he knew it. Pushing back the adrenalin and the throbbing of blood rushing through his ears, the hallmarks of fight or flight, he calmly slipped out of his issued work jumpsuit and slung the soaked garment on the tiny kitchen counter, or more correctly on the other things already piled on it. Without a word he crossed the short span of the main living area to his room and started dressing for free time. As he did so, he engaged his roommate in the verbal duel.

"That's great ... Dick. Glad his hand's OK ... Dick. But I'm wondering ... Dick ... why he got burned in the first place?" The question had been on his mind since the event, though he hadn't shared it with anyone but Daniel. Cristi had designed the stun device, or at least the schematics, and it shouldn't have been capable of doing any serious harm. Honestly, it had been more a theoretical exercise than anything, since the device would clearly have no effect at all on Greys.

"Yeah, me too. Guess you fucked up the math genius. And, really, the Dick thing. Kinda juvenile, don't ya think?"

"No ... Dick ... I don't. And no ... Dick ... I didn't. You did." No sooner had the words left his lips than the revelation came that, just maybe, Richard had gotten the math right but was operating with a different goal in mind. "Unless ..." Cristi stopped himself. The device was useless against Greys and Richard had amped it up purposely, leaving only one intended use. The thought sickened him, that his work would be twisted to such a purpose, but nothing seemed to be off limits where control of the populace was concerned. Slipping on a worn pair of leather boots and an equally worn, but sturdy, leather jacket, he snatched up his remaining tokens and left, slamming the door behind him.

If he'd dried off any in the few minutes he spent in the apartment, it no longer showed as the deluge again pelted him. In the short distance to Market Square, he'd already decided to blow the rest of his tokens if there was any significant alcohol content to whatever sludge they'd managed to dredge up. That is, until he saw her. Mina was already there, seated at a table by herself and sipping her drink. A few loose curls dangled down across her soft face, and as his eyes took her in his mood instantly softened. He placed a token on the bar, exchanging it for a luke-warm beverage.

"So, Cristi, when can we get something with a little more bite?" The man tending The Social had the best of intentions, and Cristi admired the fact that he did, as it was one of the few pleasures afforded them.

"Yeah, about that. You know where I'm at, man. I get a still going and it's my ass." A brief conversation ensued between the pair about distillation, the current situation with Kuyper, and virtually anything else Cristi could think of to avoid Mina. She was so damn beautiful and as much as he needed her, more as a friend than anything, his endurance was too thin to weather any residual anger.

The Infected

enkas said
Sean won't really manage to figure it out why should he leave Barrowside by himself... So someone might need to convince him :o

I imagine Cristi would've spelled it out for him, if necessary. "Hey man, put on your imagination cap for a second. If somehow you weren't in Barrowside, you could sleep with your hammer ..."

The Infected

Following up on some earlier discussion about how everyone would get together on this, it's almost certain than some of them know each other pretty well and have at least met the others at some point. Many high schools have a population greater than 1,200, and half the characters have lived there most, if not all, their lives.

Whether they're close or not, Mina, Mike, Sean, and Cristi would know each other fairly well, if for no other reason than because they've been in Barrowside for 20+ years based on the bios. From Cristi's bio, it's likely that he shadowed or worked with both Mike and Sean at some point in his teens and probably still does on occasion.

With the transplants, I'm sure everyone would know who they are and probably have at least a solid amount of second-hand information about them. In a community that small, anyone new is bound to get attention and news would travel fast as new tidbits about their backgrounds or personalities were discovered. As has been mentioned, those within a group probably know each other pretty well. I mean, they do live in dorms together, so I bet they even know who drools on their pillow.

Anyway, just for funsies, here's Cristi's take on his neighbors ...

Mina - Did you know I've had a crush on you since we were kids? Oh, yeah, I guess you do. Um, yeah, I guess everyone else knows too. So what are you doing for dinner? I have two cans of pork & beans, one spoon, and a flask of engine degreaser.

Mike - Awesome! Much respect!

Sean - Solid guy but, seriously man, what's with the hammer?

Daniel - Decent, fun to work with, and probably the only 2A that isn't a complete d-bag.

John - Always interesting conversation, but you're not quite right are you?

Alex - So if things don't work out with Mina ... um, never mind, you're kinda scary.

Vivian - Love the directness, and I think we might share some perspectives, but I can't tell. Nix the mumbling and enunciate?

Evelyn - Funny as hell, decent enough, but lighten up a little. You 3As are prickly.

Vale - Could you maybe not stand so close? Yeah, ok, you're not close but I can still see you and it's creeping me out. Alex? Viv? Could one of you maybe stand between me and Vale? Yeah, right there. Perfect!

The Infected

Appearance

picture

Name
Cristiano "Cristi" Caravaggio

Weapon
Being more of a post-apocalyptic Renaissance man, virtually everything Cristi owns has been modified in one way or another by its owner. Everything, that is, except a scavenged SPAX rescue axe he purchased at a dear price, but which has proved indispensable as an all-around tool. That it's also sharp enough to split a skull or sever a spine is just an added bonus. To complement its relatively short range as a weapon, he also carries a slingshot fashioned from a small, but thick titanium thing-a-ma-bob that he could only surmise had once been part of an aircraft, or something with a similar need for high tensile strength and low weight. Regardless, a stout rubber strap and a handful of 3/4-inch ball bearings gave it new purpose. Finally, being as zombie-averse as they come, and understanding that distance is paramount in avoiding a bite, he's re-worked a street sign into a sharp, machete-like weapon with a longish handle and named it Bedford, after the street for which it was originally crafted. It's sharp. Very, very sharp.

SPAX

Bedford

While the SPAX has obvious utility as a tool, which his how he primarily views it, the mere fact that it's also a razor sharp hand axe sees that it's checked in each evening. The slingshot and Bedford have had to keep a low profile, but both have been relatively easy to conceal. The former has done so easily, as without its band attached it looks like a random scrap next to a pile of metal bearings. Bedford was slightly harder to conceal, but removing a bolt and swiveling the sign up to its correct position on the post, such that it looked like the street sign it once was, worked until a falling out with his current roommate led to Bedford being confiscated.

Estimated Age
Mid-late twenties (~25-28)

Personality
Clever, quick-witted, resourceful, and dare it be said? Brilliant! For the handful who consider him a friend, Cristi would be described thusly; however, for the rest who know him well enough, arrogant, disrespectful, and wise-ass would be among the less colorful descriptors. Truth be told, they're all accurate to a degree, for as sure as he's a talented Jack of all trades, he also has issues with authority that, in an authoritarian hold like Barrowside, are less than appreciated. The correlation is evident that, as one moves up the food chain, ones opinion of him tends to decline, and vice versa. Generally speaking, he's friendly and empathetic, with a genuine interest in others and a strong social drive. His response to the bleakness of Barrowside, and the world as it now exists, is humor in any form and that has, at times, been his undoing. That he's pranked his current roommate, who is by all appearances humorless, and a handful of the security staff has made his life a bit harder of late.

Professionally, he's extremely focused and to the point, expecting the same in reciprocation. He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty, having been the willing assistant for most of his life, and that's garnered him some measure of good will among the laborers. In fact, Cristi is a fair welder and fabricator, so it's common to find him working alongside the mechanics and construction teams making repairs or doing new construction. In a crisis, Cristi is sharp and cool-headed, viewing situations from the objective standpoint of a problem to be solved, and then executing along the most reasonable path, even if that path might be considered risky in its own right. He has no issues with delegation and expects his instructions to be followed precisely and without question. For those he respects, he offers the same of himself.

Brief Background
Like a good many of those in Barrowside, Cristi was born there as the youngest of four children, trailing his siblings by several years. His parents were a pair of Italian scientists, a mechanical engineer and a chemist, who met while doing graduate studies abroad. In those days, humanity appeared to be on an upswing and life couldn't have been better as they started their family. However, the arrival of the extra-terrestrials brought personal tragedy as they saw saw their world, and their first-born, stolen. Life under the aliens was nigh unbearable, but mercifully short; however, the freedom that followed came with the price of a waking nightmare, as zombies replaced their oppression with terror. For Marco and Giuseppina, safety was only relative as, while their skills afforded them safety as valued commodities, it also made them sought after by many they'd just as soon have avoided. Their second and third children, both girls, had barely made it into their teens when infection took one and marauders took the other - there's no telling which suffered the worse fate. When they finally arrived at Barrowside, they found the controlled environment comforting and the people, or at least those in charge, went to great lengths to ensure their comfort. With some trepidation, they settled in and tried for a child one last time.

Taking no chances with Cristiano, they plied him almost from birth with survival skills and basic scientific principles to build his worth, for they understood more than many the value of both. That he proved a natural with mathematics was a boon, and one which greatly accelerated his progress. In fact, his father once remarked that in better times he might've gone on to do great things. However, he and Giuseppina abandoned the theoretical for hard, applied science - the basic mechanics of leverage, combustion in its various forms and uses, and a whole host of topics that would, in their earlier lives, have been considered primitive but which now were supremely relevant. Cristi, as he came to be called, absorbed it all like a sponge and, as he grew older, began to assist when and where he could. While that was most often with his parents, they encouraged him to seek out others as well, particularly construction workers, mechanics, and farmers so he could get a better grasp of scientific principles at work. He flourished under their tutelage until both died, separated by only a couple years, of natural causes. At least, natural by the new standard.

While Cristi was initially looked on as a talented heir to their positions, hopes of any such arrangement quickly diminished as they soon realized that he was anything but the reserved analyst his father had been, or the diplomatic team leader they'd found in his mother. While he did possess characteristics of each, it was packaged in a brash individualist who was frequently at odds with the structure Barrowside imposed. Indeed, those traits were passed along by his parents as well, who'd some years earlier realized their mistake in taking up residence there, in having traded freedom for safety. Their goal hadn't simply been to imbue Cristi with valuable skills and knowledge, it was to give him everything he needed to leave on his own, should the opportunity arise. They succeeded.

Cristi's value as a resourceful engineer and applied scientist is the only thing between him and dire things. In various ways, he's either managed to offend or prank enough off his co-workers and security personnel that any number would love nothing more than to see him eaten by zombies, or at least give him a sound beating. Chief among those is his current roommate, a mediocre scientist at best who'd been trying for well over a year to climb in stature at Cristi's expense by stealing ideas and, on a few occasions, working product. In retaliation, Cristi slipped him a substance that caused uncontrollable flatulence on the eve of a romantic outing with a young woman he'd been working up the nerve to approach for months. As it turned out, he had neither the sense of humor to take the joke, nor the social aptitude to recover from the week or two of teasing he received as a result. A similar outcome was had from re-wiring a prototype electrical stun device tested by one of the more thuggish security staff, whose neanderthal treatment of women led Christi to remark once that he was so rude his own hand had turned him down for a second date. Since those events, Barrowside has become almost unbearably small and uncomfortable.

Misc
Cristi's an engineer in the general sense, as his education was intentionally broad. For a variety of reasons, he's usually only brought to bear on problems that others are struggling with, as his unusual perspectives and analytical ability often bear fruit. While he's had plenty of time to lose it, and relatively little reason for it persist, he speaks with a slight Italian accent that he may have preserved intentionally in remembrance of his parents. He does speak some Italian and is often keen to do so for any who are interested, since it's one of the few ties he has left to his heritage.

Level and category
2A with an a-hole roommate

The Infected

I'm submitting a male character and should have him posted tonight (GMT-4).

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

While the Verrus-Mund could by no means be considered a small vessel, Shani found the quarters and, indeed, virtually any below-deck portion of the ship to be only slightly less claustrophobic than one might imagine of a tomb. Sensing her apprehension at any mention of going below deck, a few among the crew had questioned her about it over the course of the voyage; however, she'd found it difficult to express. It was one thing to voluntarily keep ones extremities close and immobile, but quite another to have no choice. If the distinction seemed elusive to some, it was lost entirely on the Dwarves who'd engaged her on topic. To the contrary, and not surprisingly, they found comfort in the cramped under-deck. For Shani, however, any moment of bearable climate found her on deck, including some nights where the weather cooperated and she'd found herself unable to sleep otherwise.

If there was anything more unbearable than the tight quarters, it was the monotony of life aboard a ship. Sure, there were jobs to be done, but for Shani that largely consisted of flying in circles around the ship to watch for potential dangers. Sometimes she was asked to fly in large circles, and other times small ones, but it was repetitive and there was literally nothing but an endless expanse of sea. She'd already preened and dyed every feather worth bothering about at least twice, and where she'd normally have found sport toying with the affections of young men, even that had virtually no thrill at sea. After a couple days with relatively few women aboard wrung any bit of challenge from it. So, there she sat, re-braiding a strand of copper bangles and garnet crystals for the umpteenth time since breakfast, hoping upon hope that something would happen. The ship could catch fire, a sea monster could swallow them whole, or the gods themselves could return to smite them. It really didn't matter, though just running aground on a deserted island would at least give her a chance to stand on something stationary and different.

Sitting casually against a wall in the lower decks, rested a tall elven figure. One leg was completely outstretched, the other bent so that his foot was planted on the floor for support. His right arm draped lazily atop his knee while with his left hand he fed himself from a clump of stale rubbish the cook assured him was bread. His golden eyes drifted slowly around the room, staring intently at each individual gathered there, almost to the point of being rude. Instead of trying to interact with them, he merely watched from a distance. At the start of their journey, this type of behavior had caused him some backlash from part of the crew but by now the others had come to accept his withdrawn attitude. His face could have been made of stone, as there was no emotion to be recognized from it, successfully keeping his feelings a mystery. Unlike some of the others, the rocking of the sea did not upset him, in fact he found it soothing. He wondered if it was appropriate to compare it to being held in the gentle arms of a loved one. And then there were times where the sea was rough and rocky and he wondered if that too was what love felt like.

He decided to wear his armor, as it was expected they were to make landfall any day now. The red and gold plating was a little flashy and overdone for his tastes but he was Na'milon and it was tradition for him to don this armor. It was meant to be a tribute to the sun and the abundance of life afforded to the world because of it, but he was more impressed by its ease and lightness. He was certain there existed none who could match the skill of the elven smiths of his kingdom.

Closing his eyes, he finished off the piece of bread he had been nursing for an hour, wishing he had some water left to choke it down. When he opened his eyes, he saw a female figure standing over him. Surprised by her presence, he choked a bit on the remaining crumbs of bread he was devouring and pounded gently on his chest. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you." The female Scael said with a light chuckle. Aerathanis quickly got to his feet and gave a small yet gracious bow. ‘No no, I should not have been daydreaming as I was Lady Scal-Varris." "Vriis-Nar." She said correcting him. "There's no need to be so formal, at least not with me. My husband should be wandering about the ship, looking to speak to the rest of you but I wanted to gather some information of my own first." Pulling out a scroll from her robes, she unfurled it and quickly scanned its contents.

"It says here that you are proficient in light magic, and by utilizing aetheric transference, you can manipulate your inherent abilities to promote healing in others, is that correct?" Aerathanis was visibly confused, a sight probably comical to behold but eventually he sighed gently "I suppose…but proficient might not be the…" Vriis-Nar cut him off again. "Now isn't the time for modesty Aerathanis. In the days ahead we may come to rely on your specific type of abilities. I need to know if you'll be able to perform to the standards I've set for you." Aerathanis appreciated the woman's candor, it reminded him of his mentor Baelora and he found that to be somewhat refreshing. "Yes, I understand. Please know that my style of magic can be used to temporarily harness the power of light or provide exceptional levels of protection. Creatures who thrive in darkness seem to have a particular aversion to my skills and I am also capable of treating non-life threatening injuries. Is that satisfactory?" Vriis-Nar smiled. "It is. Welcome to Ialdia….Aerathanis." Aerathanis offered a light bow of his head in response. "Thank you, Lady Scael-Varris." The Scael woman smiled and moved towards the main deck but not before calling out to him. "You may want to find your partner and have a briefing with my husband before we make landfall. And if you happen to find him before I do, please tell him that I'm looking for him." Aerathanis nodded. "Of course." He responded, however he was sure she was out of earshot by then.

Aerathanis scaled the narrow staircase and stepped out onto the main deck. The scent of dank wood and sea air overwhelmed his senses, however the musky odor had an almost invigorating smell to it. It wasn't long before eyes the color of dawn homed in on a female figure, toying with a piece of jewelry. Shifting pieces of metal and leather announced his arrival before Shani could even see him. Approaching the young Raevan, he offered no greeting but instead stood beside her. "Though I admit I do appreciate this more subdued version of you, it lacks a certain…purpose." He said in a deep voice that matched his outward appearance.

Shani continued her braiding without acknowledging the Elf, who it seemed made even less sense than usual. Of course she had purpose - do anything and everything to get off the damned boat before she went numb from the boredom! Finishing up what had turned into an anklet this time, the young Raevan laced it around her calf, weaving it neatly around her feathers, and fastened it securely. Springing to her feet, she stamped her foot against the deck a few times, measuring the quality of the jingling before giving a sideways nod that, in her present mood, was as satisfied an expression as she was likely to give. Finally, she looked at Aerathanis and stepped up across a stack of crates, careful to avoid snagging her feet in the netting that held them in place, to a precarious perch atop the ship's railing. "I can't take it any more, Aerathanis. I don't think I can swim. At least I hope I can't. Goodbye." With that, she stepped off the edge, falling instantly toward the waiting sea.

Aerathanis rushed to the railing, as his young companion literally stepped right off the ship and plummeted towards an unpredictable sea. He gripped the railing with large armored hands and leaned forward, dangerously close to tipping over himself. Breathless, he called out to her as if his horrified voice would somehow be enough to yank her back onto the deck. "Shani! No!" His grip on the railing tightened to the point where it might splinter beneath his hands. How could he have been so blind? All this time he mistook her melancholy mood for simple boredom. Still overcome by the initial shock of Shani throwing herself overboard, all he could do was stand and watch. His golden eyes never leaving the ebony-skinned girl's descent towards the unruly waters below.

Whether she could swim or not, Shani's aquatic prowess went untested as her wings fanned out, taking advantage of the undercurrent, to bring her to a glide just as her toes grazed the water's surface. Aloft above the water's surface, but still dangerously close to its tussling waves, the occasional wave lapped at her knees as she glided alongside the ship toward the bow so low that one would need to lean against the bulwark to spy more than a wing. With a heavy flap, she shot skyward through a mist of sea spray, climbing higher and farther ahead of the Verrus-Mund until she looked the size of a gull in the distance. Aerathanis exhaled, finally taking a breath and slowly, he loosened his grip on the railing, which left a numbing impression in his armored hands. His concern from earlier, along with the moment of shock had quickly drained from his face and was easily replaced by frustration. Here he thought she had thrown herself to the sea, but instead, once again, she was toying with fate. Perhaps it was his own fault for hastily jumping to conclusions but in his mind, he was certain anyone would have behaved the way.

Shani's faint silhouette soared gracefully for several moments, changing only in altitude as she'd apparently caught a draft to ride. Trying to keep an eye on her from where he stood, Aerathanis had to position himself so that he was able to maintain a glimpse, but a glimpse was all he was afforded. Soon his companion had disappeared from sight completely and once again his heart began to race. Roaming the sea mist, he caught the sight of a dark figure, breaking through the haze in a poof of smoke. The figure was distant but it was indeed Shani, of that much he was sure. While he wanted to scold her right then and there, he held back. First, he was far too distant and second she had finally seemed to recover some of her spark, even if by doing so she had taken years off of his life. Suddenly, Shani's form descended sharply and grew larger on the horizon, wings beating furiously as it edged ever closer to the ship.

"Peaks ahead captain!" Came the excited cry from the crows nest.

When it was announced that the vessel was nearing land, Aerathanis looked up towards the crow's nest, then back out to sea. There was something barely visible in the distance and they were indeed headed straight for it. A sudden commotion on board brought his attention back to the ship. Amidst the flurry of activity on deck as crew members made ready with whatever it was they did, or at least put on the appearance of doing so for the captain, hardly anyone noticed the approaching Raevan until she nearly clipped a pair of sailors with her wings in an abrupt landing. "Land! We're there! We're there!" The exclamations held such elation that Shani practically sung themas she danced across the deck in flurry of feathers and jingling. "We're theeere, we're theeere, land, land, land, land, land!" A strapping, young deckhand was nearly toppled when her reel caught him off guard - only his solid stature kept him upright as Shani bounded into his chest. Throwing her arms around his neck wildly, she planted a solid, smacking smooch on lips. That his eyes bulged in surprise hinted that a tongue might have been involved as well, but in an instant it was over and she'd flitted off to continue her reverie, even attempting to pull the stodgy old Elf, Aerathanis, into the merriment.

The flutter of dark feathers and girlish glee assured him that Shani was somehow involved and he immediately marched over. He was met halfway by his partner's joyful stride but his stolid mood remained as it always had and he cracked no smile. When they were finally in each others presence, he lowered his head with a strained look on his face and continuously massaged his forehead. "By the gods, your wild behavior will be the death of us both!"

Undeterred by Aerathanis' lack of excitement, or at least his lacking the appearance of it, Shani continued dancing, circling around him and adding random new verses to her song. Finally, she paused in front of him with a challenging smirk, "I think you like it!" Poking a knuckle into his chest, for doing so with a finger tip would have subjected the poor man to the wrath of her finger nails, she continued, "And I know I'm right! If you didn't like taking a risk, why'd you come? Huh? Answer me that!"

Blinking as she gently rapped at his chest, he exhaled and took a few steps past her, seemingly unphased by her teasing and attempt at prying. "What I'd like, is for you to behave like a proper young lady. And the reason I came is because....welll...there are several reasons."

As Aerathanis passed by, Shani quickly stepped in behind him with her hands on her hips and started moving her mouth to mime his chastising. Nearly as soon as she started, however, she burst into laughter and shoved at him playfully. "Adventure? Shinies? Those have to be the reasons, Those are great reasons!"

Caught off guard by the girl's humorous push, he stumbled forward but not clumsily so. Exhaling again, he erected himself to his normally regal stature then cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. "Now is not the time for fun and games Shani. We have a responsibility to our fellow colonists." Clasping his wrists behind his back, he slowly circled her as he spoke. "When you are older, you will come to realize that life is full of responsibilities. Responsibilities that you are expected to shoulder, whether they are given to you or are acquired on your own. I came on this journey because the lady of my kingdom gave me this responsibility and now I have a responsibility to you as well. I hope one day you can understand this with better clarity." He said as he came to a stop beside her.

Aerathanis' lecture was met much eye-rolling, as the Raevan shifted to one foot and folded her arms across her chest. Land was within sight and she managed to ground herself with another of his insufferable lectures. By the gods, he could drone on about the most mundane topics in that authoritative tone. In that moment, it came to her and she began pointing at the horizon excitedly. "Look! Another ship!" Once the Elf's attention had been drawn from her, Shani padded off quickly and leaped into the air, again catching the salty breeze. She surged upwards toward the bow and beyond, hoping to get a better look at the new land.

Once again he fell for Shani's antics, turning his attentions toward an imaginary ship in the distance. "What?! Another ship? Impossible!" He even went as far as moving closer to the railing to try and get a better look. "I don't see anything. What ship are you…" But when he looked behind him and saw that she was gone, he immediately knew he had been duped. He was never before exposed to such wily behavior but everyday he spent with Shani was becoming a lesson in gullibility. Roaming the skies, he eventually caught sight of her, soaring high above the Verrus-Mund . He wondered if anything he said had gotten through to her and with a sigh, he eventually wandered off on his own. They would make landfall soon and he wanted to be prepared.

The Lost Lands of Ialdia: A paired high fantasy RP

Dextkiller said
Are you not doing a collab with your partner, Warm Regret? I think Feb has a titanpad open, and it would make things easier.

We're working on one. It's just been slow going on my end with an exceptionally busy start to the week. I'll have some time this evening to work on it, so I don't see it taking much longer. Sorry for the delay.