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nomans_land2023-07-15 08:50 am
somatichybrid) wrote in nomans_land2023-07-15 08:50 am
the universe's sandbox
i July
In the dark of the just-set suns, the vast gaping chasm where there was once a city seems to moan, a low and mournful note as the still hot wind sweeps over its edge and down into the blackness below. It wasn't always there. Sometimes it was ruins, sometimes it was light and noise and life. Right now, it's a hole, and the steady breeze plays notes along its broken, ragged edges like a half-forgotten dirge.
It shouldn't be there. It should be ruins, he's certain of it, crumbling outlines of homes and businesses and lives. There still were ruins, just a little further out, the tumbled broken brick and stucco he expected, but this? This is so bewildering he doesn't know what to think about it, he just pulls his long heavy cloak tighter around himself to keep the sand-strewn wind out and stares. He too shouldn't be there, and he strikes a figure that is at once familiar and strange, the shrouding wrap of fabric hiding most but not all of the violently red coat below, or the vague outline of more limbs than there should be. At its hem on one side right along the ground, long protrusions almost like feathery blades or sharpened fingers curl against a brick long separated from its home, absently digging a little furrow into it. More proper feathers trail almost like a peacock's train in the dust, occasionally looping loosely around whatever's nearest. The closer anyone gets, the more tangible his presence is alone, an oppressive weight like a sandstorm on the horizon. It wasn't every day he didn't know how to feel about something. Usually it was feeling too much about something.
Maybe he shouldn't have listened to the message on the radio and set out to investigate it. He picks up the brick with the longer of his arms, strangely articulated blade-fingers finding easy purchase in the stone's surface, and flicks it into the pit, listening for the sound of impact and quietly counting under his breath.
ii Desert, A Lost Steamer
There's no point in hanging around mystery holes! Especially ones that didn't stay holes and profoundly disturbed him on so many levels that he's going elsewhere for a while, scrunching across the sand towards.. whatever was in that general direction. It should be a town or city sooner or later, if the stars weren't also completely screwed up and likely to point him in the wrong direction, a place he could pick up a few supplies, put the mask back on and hopefully get in and out before he had to think about it too much.
But there's the wreck of a sand steamer sitting in the sand, far displaced from its proper routes, half torn open from some kind of internal explosion and by the looks of it thoroughly abandoned. The suns would be up in another hour.
Free shelter! Maybe free supplies!
It's almost with a bounce in his step that he heads for the wreck, humming a little under his breath, train of feathers and sharp edges held at a jaunty, strangely optimistic seeming angle like a rooster's tail.
In the dark of the just-set suns, the vast gaping chasm where there was once a city seems to moan, a low and mournful note as the still hot wind sweeps over its edge and down into the blackness below. It wasn't always there. Sometimes it was ruins, sometimes it was light and noise and life. Right now, it's a hole, and the steady breeze plays notes along its broken, ragged edges like a half-forgotten dirge.
It shouldn't be there. It should be ruins, he's certain of it, crumbling outlines of homes and businesses and lives. There still were ruins, just a little further out, the tumbled broken brick and stucco he expected, but this? This is so bewildering he doesn't know what to think about it, he just pulls his long heavy cloak tighter around himself to keep the sand-strewn wind out and stares. He too shouldn't be there, and he strikes a figure that is at once familiar and strange, the shrouding wrap of fabric hiding most but not all of the violently red coat below, or the vague outline of more limbs than there should be. At its hem on one side right along the ground, long protrusions almost like feathery blades or sharpened fingers curl against a brick long separated from its home, absently digging a little furrow into it. More proper feathers trail almost like a peacock's train in the dust, occasionally looping loosely around whatever's nearest. The closer anyone gets, the more tangible his presence is alone, an oppressive weight like a sandstorm on the horizon. It wasn't every day he didn't know how to feel about something. Usually it was feeling too much about something.
Maybe he shouldn't have listened to the message on the radio and set out to investigate it. He picks up the brick with the longer of his arms, strangely articulated blade-fingers finding easy purchase in the stone's surface, and flicks it into the pit, listening for the sound of impact and quietly counting under his breath.
ii Desert, A Lost Steamer
There's no point in hanging around mystery holes! Especially ones that didn't stay holes and profoundly disturbed him on so many levels that he's going elsewhere for a while, scrunching across the sand towards.. whatever was in that general direction. It should be a town or city sooner or later, if the stars weren't also completely screwed up and likely to point him in the wrong direction, a place he could pick up a few supplies, put the mask back on and hopefully get in and out before he had to think about it too much.
But there's the wreck of a sand steamer sitting in the sand, far displaced from its proper routes, half torn open from some kind of internal explosion and by the looks of it thoroughly abandoned. The suns would be up in another hour.
Free shelter! Maybe free supplies!
It's almost with a bounce in his step that he heads for the wreck, humming a little under his breath, train of feathers and sharp edges held at a jaunty, strangely optimistic seeming angle like a rooster's tail.
no subject
She looks curious to know that airships are being made, grinning at the idea of some steampunk things flying around. "That's great! If they employ a willing gravity plant, I'm sure they wouldn't have any issues making that work." Consent and the rights of a worker should give a plant some autonomy, right? "I'll be happy to teach you all about the sensors and the work I'll try to get going!"
Except one of her children will go missing, and she doesn't do much of anything other than trying to track him.
The mention of rings has her raise a brow in mock suspicion. "I don't know... last time a bunch of rings started a few wars." Rem winks. "...and I'm sure the Knights of Nai would enjoy a shrubbery, but that might be an issue here."
There's a sigh at those last words, though. "He's such a good boy, my little one. I hope he can make his own path here."
no subject
What if they begin building Hindenburgs instead of relying on plants? He rubs his chin, looking thoughtful. He'll have to get more details on exactly what types of airships these are going to be, because the more he thinks about it the more curious he gets. Surely nothing's about to go wrong and he'll have plenty of free time to dart back and forth and soothe all of his curiosities! "I'll do my best to learn!" He's good at learning! He! .. Totally neglected any kind of real education after about two years old, on all fronts! "...Though speaking of ships sunk into the sand sea, that's where I'll be getting a lot of stuff from. I'm not really sure all of it's going to be useful.."
This issue of wars is negligently waved off. "Don't think of them as wars, think of them as team building exercises, but please keep any and all small people away from my volcano in case lost jewelry finds its way into their hands." It's.. strange, he supposed, how comfortable it was, trying to maintain a human look aside. As if there had been no tearing pain of loss, as if so much time hadn't passed.
"I'm sure he will. The circumstances the rest experienced are impossible to replicate now even if somehow he wanted to. Things can only be brighter." A more sobering topic, but he's certain of it. Things would be better.
no subject
There are a lot of interesting gases that could work in that case, the question was how easy (or possible) that was to find and produce here. If they had to make a plant create helium (safer than hydrogen) it would be a moot point - and probably faster just to use a gravity plant. A lot of things to think about! Several years worth of learning!
How are your calculus skills, Annatar? Or cursive?
"If you can get to them, I'm sure they're the best places to find pieces that have not been scavenged. Even if something seems useless, even the metal in our ships are priceless in a place like this." It could be used as-is, or reforged. Strong enough to keep their ships in space for long over a century.
His quick replies and humor has her smiling again, also feeling quite comfortable like this. It was strangely easier to talk to Annatar than her boys. He didn't seem as weighed down by guilt and sorrow - or maybe he was just better at hiding it. None of her Vashes makes plays at pop culture shenanigans.
"I hope so," Rem says about Nai. "He deserves a chance to be a child for as long as possible."