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Entry tags:
May 2022 Test Drive Meme
MAY 2022 TDM
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to Folkmore's monthly Test Drive Meme! Please feel free to test drive any and all characters regardless of your intent to apply or whether you have an invite or not.
All TDMs are game canon. You can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Each TDM will provide a scenario for how characters arrive in-game that particular month.
Playing TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain canon items from homes especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
Current players are allowed to have in-game characters react to TDMs via the Network or make a log with the prompts. Current players are always encouraged to tag new people on the TDM!
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Content Warnings: Possible insanity via cuts by thorns. Temporary nullification of abilities.
DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS
OUT OF THE WOODS
DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS
The world comes into focus in one sharp, overwhelming rush. You are laying on the ground surrounded by staggering walls of flowers of all types and colors. Their sweet scent fills the air and the sky above is clear, blue, beautiful, and endless. It would be easy to be lulled into a quiet nap in such a peaceful place. You can even hear a soft, disembodied voice singing songs from some unknown place all around you. After some time, this siren song creates an intense yearning that will eventually bring you to your feet and pull you forward. You are filled with the urge to find someone important. You may know who or you might just have some aimless, faceless person at the forefront of your mind.
All you know is that when you finally find them, you'll know. Is it love? Is it a friend you have always needed? The perfect enemy? Only time will tell, but for now, you must find them. The flower maze is dense and for now, it doesn't seem like flying out and above them is an option. If you try, you just wind up vaulted back into the maze. Nope! This trial is about using other means of exploration. Maybe you can destroy the flowers, but you will find that this flower field is apparently endless. If you get cut by thorns along the way, you will become increasingly hectic about finding this mystery person. Some have been thrown into insane desperation just looking for their People among the flowers.
But once you finally find them, you're both filled with relief and the flowers around you blossom wider. You can then treat the flower maze like a solvable puzzle and get your way out of it. However, some people spend a bit more time in the maze since once you do find your person or people, you will be stricken with the urge to talk to them, to "open up" about your yearning to find them...even if you've never met them before!
OUT OF THE WOODS
Just outside of the flower maze is a little festival set up just on the edge of Willow and partway into Epiphany! Little stalls of food and drinks have been set up - and we mean little! The good folk who set up these stalls are magical cats standing upright and wearing clothes like little people! All the stalls are cat-sized and so are the dishes and food - which means most of the people walking through will likely be quite a bit bigger! That's okay, the cat folk seem happy to serve you bigger or multiple helpings of their yummy soups and bread. None of them seem able to really communicate with the new arrivals, but that's okay, their cute meows are fun to listen to anyway.
The music is a bit more pronounced here and a handful of cat couples are dancing around. Don't be surprised if they encourage you to join in the dancing! Maybe you didn't actually find someone in the flower maze - if not, the cat folk will encourage you to dance with another new arrival to get to know them! Because apparently dancing with someone you don't know is a good formal introduction? Ah well. Sometimes it's just the idea that counts.
There will also be some supplies to help patch people up who have gotten a lot of cuts from the flower maze. Some of the bouts of insanity are probably still going a bit hectic, so you might want to lay down in the recovery area until you feel a bit more stable. Talking to people apparently helps with the stability, so maybe strike up a conversation with a fellow newbie?
Content Warnings: Optional selective amensia and/or altered sense of self, possible monster/creature violence, temporary enchantments, forced relocations.
LONG STORY SHORT
DAYLIGHT
LONG STORY SHORT
You're in a very unusual, specific outfit and in a place you might have seen once or twice in a storybook or in the imagination of your childhood. For some, you might pick up on what's happening immediately. For others, you might be so immersed in the role that you don't realize it - but you're featuring in a classic fairy tale. Maybe it's Sleeping Beauty or Little Red Riding Hood or Tale of the White Snake or The Mirror of Matsuyama. Either way, you're the main character or the main antagonist and it looks like you're going to have to play out the story with whoever you're stuck with!
The other person in the trial can either match up to the other side of the story or just arrive as themselves and have to play along. Trying to just abandon the trial is quite literally impossible! You're stuck in the weird woods or high tower and trying to "leave" just results in you going in repeated cycles until you wind up where you started. You have a role to fill and you might as well get used to playing roles in Folkmore! It's time to understand how these trials work. What lesson are you supposed to take away?
If you're grumbling about it or are left confused, don't worry! Thirteen will appear to those struggling and explain the situation: "You need to play out the story! C'mon. Everyone knows this story...Right? Well, whatever, it's obvious! If you play your part, I promise I'll give you something you want." Can you really trust a fox though? Especially the fox who brought you here? She laughs before you can really pester her for more information and vanishes in a burst of red dust. Foxes really are mischievous, aren't they...At least most fairy tales are incredibly short, basic, and straightforward so most people should be able to figure it out!
In theory.
DAYLIGHT
At least the Fox wasn't lying. When you complete the task of the story, the fairy tale world will melt into one of the settings in Folkmore and you will be brought back into the current reality. You will be left in the weird clothes, but fear not! A mystery trunk has appeared in front of you and whoever you completed the trial with. Inside the trunk, you will find some of your canon clothes and a few canon items. Nearby, there will be some weapons sticking out of the ground: basic swords, guns, shields, etc. These items might not be enchanted, but at least you have something to work with!
Better yet, you don't necessarily have to complete the Long Story Short prompt to find these trunks either! They seem to be dotted around Folkmore and you might find them just by virtue of exploration! The trunks seem to mysteriously know who is opening them so you won't find someone else's stuff by accident, but you might have to fight over who gets the sword in the stone...
A word of caution to those who grab the weapons...You will immediately be tested on how good you are with them. As soon as you have pulled them out of the ground, the ground will begin trembling and a serpent-like creature will form out of the ground. If you're in Wintermute, you have a sizeable icy creature to deal with. If you're in Cruel Summer, meet the fire-breathing snakey nightmare that's going to try and roast you alive. Don't think Epiphany or Willow will have gentler creatures! They might be covered in moss or flowers but they will hit just as hard. You have to defeat the angry creature - or try running for your life. They are relatively easy to beat and people without powers can manage if they are highly skilled or...really lucky...Or if someone far more capable finds them! Good luck. As a pro-tip, maybe don't pull weird swords out of the ground in the future.
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She's giving it a game try, the poor thing.
All together, the young woman feeling her way through the newness of a spin is exceptionally charming in its own way. Whoever failed to take her dancing before now should be ashamed. He's not about to laugh outright at the risk of it being mistaken for mockery—it's certainly not with any meanness he's enjoying these efforts—but it's clear some jovial laughter lives in the place he bites his lower lip, holding it between his teeth to keep his smile from outgrowing its confines.]
You gave it a good go. [Hey, she made it 360 degrees and stuck the landing! Willfully going where no dance virgins have gone before, maybe, sure, but she could've walked away from him at any time and he's pleased she hasn't.] You did say you wanted to dance at my pace.
[And that was just a first time.
He's improvising a bit now, playing with the standard regularity of moves, but that doesn't seem to impede his rhythm.]
One more?
[Practice makes perfect. And it's cute, okay, he's going to milk it.]
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Did you hear me complaining?
[ Aloy's about as out of her depth as one could be without finding themselves neck-deep in the ocean without notice, but 'sink or swim' has always been the way she's learned, bruises and all. Better to make many mistakes now when she has the excuse of inexperience rather than misstep later when it matters!
So she shakes her head while meeting Mat's stifled laughter with an amiable grin of her own, not taking particular offence at misfortune she invited upon herself.
Having him try to draw her bow might be in order afterwards. You know. Just to level the playing field a little bit before he goes and gets a big head about all this. :T ]
One more. [ A lift of her chin, confirmation and obstinate demand both. ] I've got it this time.
[ Does she though? Aloy sounds confident enough considering the upset not a moment ago, as if stating her intent as solid fact will somehow tilt the scales in her favour instead of backfire spectacularly in her face. Then again... the rate she's been adapting at, she might very well be telling the truth.
Give her your best shot, Mr. Two Rivers. She'll spin like a Beyblade and look like the daintiest mfer at the ball while she's at it. ]
this is so cute, wtf c':
Dancing experience. A silly, trifling thing to focus on amid everything, but it's doing its intended job as a distraction perhaps a little too well, allowing Mat to momentarily forget the rest of his questions.
Well. He'll sort the rest now or later, one way or another. No choice there.]
Must have misheard. [Mmhmm.] Then, an encore—
[His practiced hand sends her out in an easy spin the length of their joined arms and back toward him. If she were to lose her footing, he'd catch her; however, her quick study says she likely doesn't need it.
Co-signed. Dainty... mm, maybe not the right word for her, but she's a lithe mfer.]
∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
lithe mfer... mr cauthon pls have a little decorumLo and behold, the Nora machine hunter is true to her word; Mat's arm extends to his full wingspan and she allows the momentum to direct her in a graceful twirling movement that has them anchored hand in hand like the links in an unravelling chain. Another tug and she's reeled back in, coming to rest in their starting posture as if it's as easy as breathing, not so much as a braid out of place.
...this time around, Aloy wisely keeps her ego in check by settling for quiet satisfaction in another obstacle overcome. She's learned that lesson already!
The additional layer of keeping track of the downbeat in the back of her head tells her what comes next - the frenetic step-hop-turn-step she'd barely managed to pull off just a minute prior so much easier now that Aloy's precisely where she needs to be. Who knew paying attention to the drum made coordinating movement so much easier?
Tikiti-tom (step-two, hop-four), tikiti-tom (turn-two, step-four)--
She might, possibly, be enjoying herself at a party for the first time ever.
Just a little. ]
🐾😺🥳
Then again, she also said she was an outcast from her people, so maybe she hasn't been around enough young lads to recognize horndogs as a dangerous breed on a different kind of hunt. That's a big lapse in the bestiary, never leave home without your shin-kicking clogs.]
Bloody well put the rest to shame. You're doing it.
[Not so quiet with encouragement and laurels; the girl's hitting her stride, shedding discomfort little by little. Well done. He means it with a grin sans teasing, though the visible traces of laughter persevere.
Push and pull turns into a greater feeling of unity. Completing each other's steps with one another. He tries not to think about Winternight most days, but he has missed the feeling of dancing. He does laugh then, more breathless than he expects, partly with exhilaration, partly in reminder he's still regaining the strength the dagger sapped.]
Not so bad, is it?
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Unfortunately this is Aloy we're talking about here.
Turning her face aside to hide the fierce burn across her cheeks won't make the sensation fade any quicker, but she still stuffs the uncomfortable feeling deep down where she won't have to think about it, consigning the whole thing to the abyss of "future Aloy problems".
Easier to just act as if nothing was said in the first place. ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ ]
Not as bad as I expected, actually.
[ No, not even close. Once the culture shock is overcome and her naturally skittish nature firmly bolted down like ropecasters snaring a Glinthawk, even Aloy must admit there's a certain appeal to this kind of activity. Normally the sensation of silent kinship only happens in the sparring pit when she's trying to clock someone in the skull with the blunt end of a training spear!
What she finds even more surprising is just how much of a workout dancing is turning out to be. Though she isn't quite at the point of losing her breath entirely, there's the telltale sheen of moisture on her brow and faint wisps of steam rising off her hunting leathers in the moonlight giving away just how much exertion this particular dance requires. ]
Fair warning, if we need to dance any faster my leg feels like it's going to fall off.
i would just like you to know tho' i haven't started i dled HZD 😌
[What's that? A blush? A flush? Funny how it wears so vividly on the people he's met (except one notably deceased exception) with that reddish hair color. It's one of the few reminders of his best friend that twists his stomach with nostalgia instead of just to the point of sickness, and for that he refrains from pressing her on it, though the urge is there.
And truth be told, he's more relieved than not she admits to the exertion; she's not the only one feeling it or showing it with a bloom of color in her face, he's just putting in a mammoth effort not to let wobbly legs betray him. She said it first. His pride is off the hook if they were to take a break at the same time.
An apt moment for the current song to wind down into its last notes. At the dance's end, he releases her to crown it with a grin and a sweep into an elaborate bow, back bent and arm across his chest. He has enough fuel in the tank for that. Some situations demand courtesy, no matter the universe.]
Thank you for the dance. [More fun than anything he'd expected from anyone or anything on this strange day, actually.] It was my honour to be your first. Don't worry about the fast ones—I have no doubt you'll keep up just fine for the next one.
✨Y a s s s ✨
For now, the implication she'll be doing this again in the near future has Aloy already shaking her head. ]
"Next one"? [ She huffs, as much a rueful sigh as laughter. ] After all that, the next person to try will have to catch me first. If I'm lucky they'll be too out of breath to ask.
[ SPEAKING OF WHICH. Time to relocate.
There's an inviting patch of green just a little ways away that she beelines towards, unceremoniously collapsing into the long grass with the hopes of having the volcanic heat stoked under her skin leeched away into the cooler soil, retreating from the stifling press of bodies and the low chatter of those waiting for the next song to begin.
Suckers for punishment, clearly. ]
LIFE just needs to give me the TIME
Oh, give it up. You enjoyed it. [Said in a tone wheedling for the truth. He caught those there-and-gone-again smiles.] Admit it.
[And he will not even smugly take credit for being the driving force behind the idea. Pulling her away from the townsperson had been a small favor, joining the dance a ruse. But it had benefited him, too, even if somewhere along the way he'd forgotten his resolve to use it as opportunity for interrogation. It feels like forever and a day since he'd last had a bit of fun.
Trailing her at a languid pace—because, well, he really had got off track from his questions—he snorts incredulously to watch her swoon into her patch of grass.]
Now you're really putting it on. Did I tire you out?
[But let's be real, his is a corner of dramatics, not decorum, and any critique levelled from it is all hot air and little heft. It does... look comfortable...
It's his own private argument with his leg muscles that keep him upright, coming to stand by her side, scuffing the grass with booted heel.]
No rest for the wicked!
Don't know where you got that idea. I'm sore, overheating, and publicly humiliated myself, but - [ And this is a very hesitant "but", mind you! ] - yeah. I guess I did have fun.
[ After all it's the good kind of sore. The triumphant burn after a long and challenging hunt, or in this case the obvious conclusion of being pushed and pulled in every imaginable direction in ways she's never experienced before. It's not a feeling she gets very often nowadays.
Once Aloy's galloping pulse calms and her breath has once again settled, Aloy laces her fingers behind her head, comfortably stretched out on her grass bedding like a cat in a sunbeam without a care in the world; the cool grass on her skin and the sweetness of crushed vegetation on the air with each breath feels twice as luxurious as finely spun Carja silk after all that.
Well. Until he has to go and needle her pride, anyway. That gets a pointed look. ]
You'd be more convincing if you didn't sound as out of breath as I am.
ain't that the truth ヽ(ー_ー )ノ
[While he's speaking, he bends to put a hand on the ground and slowly lower himself down a ways from her, making it look like an idle gesture and not that he's taking his time to cover his labouring. Still better than his dead man's staggering to Tar Valon, though that already feels like months ago.
The ungraciously wide expanse of his grin comes more easily. Perched slightly above where her flame-red hair spills over the grass, it appears upside down, and the right side up iteration is no less teasing.]
How do you know breathlessness isn't because of you?
[Look. She can roll over on her belly and sock him in the leg, but she can't call him out with observations. That's not allowed on this already no good, very confounding day.]
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Alas. That opinion is about to flip a full 180 very quickly. ]
Dream, remember? You've never had a nightmare where the whole tribe's turned out to laugh at you over something stupid?
[ A lazy gesture with one arm encompasses the world around them; grandly sweeping over the whispering grass, the flickering firelight, and the shadowy figures of the catfolk frolicking gaily in their absence as if to say "bro, just look at all of this shit".
Granted, this is a pretty tame nightmare all things considered. No machines, no blood-soaked Sun Ring, no scrambling for her life because she forgot to bring her bow and spear to class that day, etc etc. All very reasonable conclusions to make.
Unfortunately for Aloy, all the plausible explanations fuelling her train of thought come to a screeching halt at the teasing/flirting(?????) thrown back in her face. Yes, she's aware he's purposefully distracting her, but at the same time this is the previously mentioned Future Aloy Problem™ rearing its ugly head a lot sooner than she assumed it would. Can't say she didn't ask for it.
So, naturally, the resulting mental bluescreen has her pausing for a brief (but damning) moment that says all that needs to be said. ]
You -- I mean -- [ She awkwardly clears her throat, 110% aware of the pained expression embodied in furrowed brow and pursed lips. ] Then maybe you shouldn't have been dancing in the first place. How is that my fault?
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Or perhaps reflecting that he'd vastly prefer it if his nightmares were only just that, surreal and full of nude dancing, is to blame. He looks, he even holds onto his carefree smile, but his newfound weird shit radar is pinging loudly. Hate to break it to the both of them and their plausible deniability, but this still feels pretty bloody real and un-dreamlike. As solid as her hand had been clasped in his. As solid as the grass now. (Although arguably she, herself, has proven to be one of the stranger features here and could certainly make one question the reality of foreign lands, lands surely not inked down on Bran al'Vere's prized map.)
Well, anyway, those serious waters with no life raft aren't going anywhere. Back to unnecessary and flustering segues.]
That aside— [He's fine, let's not talk about it.] You dream about dancing with men like me a lot?
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Rather than take the bait this time she counters with a question of her own: ]
Do you dream of dancing with strange women a lot?
[ That topic's a two-way street, smartypants. >:T Nice try.
More importantly, one of Aloy's eyebrows quirks in that telltale sign one of her signature blunt observations is imminent. ]
It's starting to sound a lot like you're just trying to distract yourself from something.
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As for those... Well...
A pause precedes his response. Perhaps not the "gotcha" moment Aloy was hoping for as he raises his eyes to the sky in what he means for noncommittal politeness. However, the considering scrunch of his lips says it all: yes, that is also exactly the sort of subject matter he dreams about in pleasanter times, actually. Among other things. Sometimes different activities. Usually the women, though.
Hey, they're his dreams. He will not be accepting criticism or kink shaming at this time—this is a safe, sharing space.
Except for, you know, what she puts her finger on next. He looks back at her, still wearing a topical buffer in the form of a smile.]
Of course I am. You're not? Talking foxes, out of body experiences, and now cats are muscling in on innkeeping before they train us to do the mousing... It's going to be one impressive breakdown when it hits.
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[ An idle correction, but he's got a point. It's not like they have much to go off of in terms of getting out of here.
Wherever "here" is.
Pushing herself fully upright turns Aloy's gaze from Matrim's profile back to the frolicking cats and the dark hedges beyond, sparing her hunting shirt some businesslike pats to shed wayward bits of grass and leaves. ]
A lot of things I thought were fables or magic was just machinery in the end, but that didn't make them any less real. [ Ugh. She hates that. The possibility of things going so incredibly pear-shaped not even her slapdash knowledge of technology can make sense of how she got here, but leaving just enough to mean there's a metric ton of work to do in the meantime. ] Who says any of this is different?
[ Her Focus hadn't picked up anything interesting the first time she'd tried to scan for a Tallneck (or any machine for that matter). No signals, no distant clanking or whirring or grinding of metal on metal, just static and an eerie silence. Like an invisible web of machine chatter gone dead in an instant.
That, if anything, unnerves Aloy the most.
It's also probably why she immediately launches into thinking out loud instead of letting the loss of direction sink in. ]
Some kind of projectors, maybe? That doesn't explain how light can be solid enough to touch, but if there's a source, it's at least somewhere to start...
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All things considered, he thinks he'd prefer a smack from a pretty girl, though.]
I'll speak for myself.
[For someone jesting about an impending need to drink until suitably numb and cross-eyed, he sounds the opposite of grave. Closer to tap dancing on that grave, smile kicking up to match. Easier to make light of one's own free fall if they're the only one in it. Easier to turn a slice of truth into a joke so that it rings with wryness more than authenticity.
Raising his knees up, he frees his hands to link them across the tops. Machinery again. He hadn't forgotten; in fact, he's been mulling on her answers and his proposed theory they're deep in the weeds, using the time to logic out a way back to sensible ground, look for alternative explanations. Maybe she is just a confoundingly strange outlander who's spent her life under a rock. And yet, he's not any closer to understanding half of what she's talking about.]
Sorry, you lost me again.
["Projector"? Toto, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.]
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...her reaction might start to resemble a breakdown if you tilt your head and squint a bit. ]
Bad habit. Sorry. [ Her eyebrows knit together while mulls over how best to condense the idea into easily understandable terms - speaking more slowly as the ideas crop up. ] It's almost like... well, you've seen what happens to light when you hold glass up to it, right? Different colours, patterns, so on?
Back home I found these little spheres - we called them 'Embers' - that could make moving images if you put them in the right power sources. Animals, people, designs, all kinds of things. You could walk around them and they'd look real from every angle, if you wanted.
[ Resting her arms across her knees and her cheek on her forearms, she gives Matrim a raised eyebrow, keeping an eye on him just in case she's accidentally left him in the dust a second time. ]
Keeping up so far?
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But she's not arguing on behalf of what would bring it roaring to the fore. The mystic over the mechanic—now, that does make him want to find the nearest rainwater barrel and wash his skin off until it's clean of all traces of power, or Power. Or cat dander, for that matter. Things like the Power had saved his sorry hide from a bad end more than once, but he can't help but feel it's also what could have left him a human husk in a cage like Logain. What's led him exactly here.
Power-wrought business is no business he cares to get involved in.
Machines, on the other hand, however impossible-sounding, are to his mind a steadier, more knowable force. Like the grandfather clock in the Winespring Inn he'd once been punished for trying to take apart, machines have sensible, understandable logic on their side. Purposes, for use by all, not just channelers. And perhaps most of all to their credit, they don't make acid slosh nervously in his stomach.]
Mmhmm. Okay...
[The only explanations he has are ones he'd like to avoid if he could. He's not about to spend a dance's pleasant aftermath being an advocate for embracing crazy shit and dissuading her from playing hers out to its end.
That being said, he's not giving much of a hint whether he's following or labouring, expression tactfully even-steven while she thinks aloud. More than some others can say for his willing audience skills when trying to impress information upon him.]
And you think it's something like that?
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I -- well, maybe?
[ "Maybe". Not a yes, but not a no, mostly a "I have no idea and that's precisely the problem". So many things in her world had been attributed to magic or deities out of ignorance; to discover that magic does indeed exist here would cast doubt over the rest of her hard earned knowledge in hindsight. What else didn't she know? What else had been overlooked?
How lucky for her that Matrim's turning out to be a very good sounding board whether he understands or not. ]
The cats could be explained away as programmed AI behaviour but it still doesn't solve how light was made into solid objects. [ Well... there's one inconvenient answer for that but she'd prefer not to consider it for both their sakes.
There's a distinct pause - a heavy silence where she gazes out at the deep dark of the woods like the answer's hiding between the treetrunks - finally conceding the inevitable so quietly it might be missed. ] I just... I don't know. Not for certain.
every time i see this is MAY my sense of time melts
On the matter of thoughts that require some warm-up exercises to get some familiarity pumping: programmed AI? He tilts his head, as curious about her jargon as the rest of her. A definite maybe on him gleaning the essence of her meaning from context clues, but he finds himself more invested in the pensive, preoccupied expression that creeps over her demeanor like a sunset over hopes and dreams they face a short term conundrum with short, sweet answers.
It's one thing for him to groan and sigh and wade around in cynicism, but like waxed mustaches, it's not a look he finds just anyone can pull off. For knowing her all of five seconds, he decides wearing wobbling certainties and disquiet on the inside suits him better than it does her, inside or out.
And maybe he just hates thinking he's watching someone in front of his eyes slide toward that down and out place where defeat and panic lurk. Maybe they have their own rope ladder to climb out on, maybe they could use a loaner.]
Well— [More of that blithe easiness leaks out with a carefree sigh and smile.] A moment ago you didn't know how to dance, either, so pace yourself.
Time flies when you're having fun!
Her eyes flick from the melancholic gloom of the woods over to him instead, less inclined to take a flying leap into the yawning abyss of 'what if's with the reminder of company nearby. It's a kind gesture - and one she appreciates, if the sidelong smirk is any indication. ]
What can I say? I'm an overachiever.
[ Visibly shaking herself out of the dark mood that'd settled like a shroud on her shoulders, Aloy stretches her arms over her head instead, the beads braided into her hair rattling against the metal plates woven into her shirt with the movement. ]
Feels a bit uneven, to tell the truth. All this teaching me dancing for free, rescuing from cat gossip, being a captive audience... where's the catch?
this! is! the truest!!
[With evidence it embarrasses her, it must be said. A bit of taunting he'll own.
By and large, he's less in agreement with her framing his intervention as some kind of public good done without compensation; a faint laugh rides on the back of his next exhaled breath. She and her nerves wouldn't last long at a proper dance, were she to go around assuming everyone who approached her had some other purpose beyond trying to win a moment with a pretty girl. Is that his only reason for still sitting here? Well, maybe not the whole of it, but she makes it sound too do-gooding.]
Oh yes, that's me. The purest of motives. [People would definitely say that about him and not automatically lump him in with the skirt-chasers.] I wouldn't call it for free, exactly, seeing as how I was looking for someone to confirm this is as weird as it seems. You're helping with that.
[While spawning brand new questions all on her own, but... well. That seems to be the new normal.]
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You sure about that? [ One eyebrow arches, playfully skeptical. ] Seems to me like you're more familiar with everything here than I am, weird or not.
[ Cats! Dancing! Socializing! All those dreadful things that might as well be alien civilization to Aloy. Had it been up to her, she'd probably still be uncomfortably trapped with the chatterbox cat, doomed to listen to vapid grapevine rumor for all eternity (or until her patience gave out, whichever happened first).
Alas. Rather unlike the ladykiller image he may be trying so very had to sell, she's pretty dang sure he's a helpful guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time.
You know.
Like a dirty do-gooder or something. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) For shame. ]
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Being a sounding board for her is easy, comparatively.]
I like a little music, a little dancing. [Is she—saying he seems the type to fit in with weird? He chooses to take it to mean he seems halfway together.
In that sense, it's a more pleasant welcome to town than some for someone who might've gone looking for similar in an inn or a tavern with a musician and room for a promenade. Though disembodied singing voices in hedge mazes—not so much.]
I'll know where you've gotten off to if I happen to hear about a girl with red hair making a scene about phantom machines in her ears when the purring starts.
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🥂 happy belated anniversary, l m a o...