THE CITY INBOX.

[fossick]

USERNAME: FOSSICK WEIR DREDGER ORIGINAL CHARACTER TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW

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Comments

[nerine]

Booo
But okay, I'll play
Yes and no. Yes, I think my usual level is down a few notches, no because it's not like I've ever utilized much of anything except for a few cases.

[Like, boxes are heavy now :(]

[fossick]

[You poor soul.]

A few cases? So your strength, then.

[But "down a few notches" at least is consistent with what he's experienced thus far, too.

Maybe more than just a few notches.]

[nerine]

It's weird having average strength now. Maybe I should work out properly just in case.
But on the other hand, it's kind of nice. Like it matches me more.

[fossick]

[He'd suggest she shouldn't neglect her physical strength; he certainly does not mean to. But he's not her dad, and he doesn't care quite that much, so... he doesn't.]

There are parts I enjoy. But there are more parts that I dislike, being stripped of certain abilities without understanding how, or why. Knowing only that there is something more powerful than us that can do so on a whim.

[nerine]

I'm sort of indifferent
Not sure how else to describe it.

[Because Monts was not some scrappy misunderstood heroine who, after a character-defining crisis, decided to rise up to the challenge and use her powers for good. She didn't have the moral fiber for that sort of endeavor nor the endurance.

That and she didn't completely understand herself yet.]

You really hate being in the dark, don't you Weir?

[fossick]

[Indifference. Is that better or worse than flat-out incompetence? An argument could be made for either, yet somehow this still doesn't surprise him.

She has the air of someone whose flexibility with a situation reaches an extreme that makes Weir uncomfortable.]

I hate not knowing what will happen, yes. The sort of true danger we could be in. How long we will be here, or if there is a way back home at all. What they plan to do with us.

How can you be indifferent to that?

Aren't you at least angry? Afraid? Something, anything?

[nerine]

[She doesn't like being in the dark either but that's just how she's existed and continues to exist with only a torch to guide the way now that she knows that there's more to her own world than she realized. But it's still that, only a torch. The reach is limited and the walls around her are obscure.

Weir's questions are prominent, in-her-face. Does she feel anything?

Monts looks at her finger that had the knife cut. It's almost all healed up now. It took longer, much longer, perhaps a normal amount of time. Was it normal? Her sense of normality has always been screwed up.

And there's a good chance that this city will screw it up even more.]

I'm uncertain
Unsure
Like

🤷‍♀️

Should I be more hysterical?

[fossick]

No. It's just strange that you haven't much of an opinion on it at all. To be this upended from our lives is nothing short of an insult.

[In his humble opinion.]

[nerine]

I mean, I'm worried about my grandparents. I might have mentioned that.
It would be nice to know that they're alright even though they're plenty tough without me.

And my boss is a witch, she'll manage.

[Sorry Iona.]

It could be that because of the way I am, my reactions are not the norm.

[Because of her lack of pain. But she's not telling him that.]

[fossick]

That isn't what I meant. I mean I think it is strange, though perhaps telling, that you do not worry for yourself even half as much.

[Weir's concerns center wholly around him. Again, it's a contrast of perspectives.]

[nerine]

I do worry for myself
But it doesn't manifest in a way that's familiar to people.
Or to you for that matter.

[fossick]

We can agree on that, at least. You give off the opposite impression.

[But he won't argue this point further. Not today. Seems like a waste of effort for these slow-typing fingers, help.]

[nerine]

What are you
My dad?

[Thank you for worrying about her Dad I mean]

I kid, I kid.
Let me know when you want to meet up and I'll help you record some videos.

[fossick]

[NOT YOUR DAD!! HE IS PEAK ANTI-PARENTAL UNIT

Thusly, ignoring that.]

Are you free and able now?

[nerine]

Yes!
Come on over to the coffee shop.
I'll send you directions.
You'll get to learn and have a bit of coffee to drink!
Aren't you excited?
😊😊😊

[fossick]

Full to bursting with it.

[The irreverence might as well be dripping from those texted words.]

Send me the path I ought to take and I'll be there soon.

-> action

[nerine]

[And with no other zingers to inflict Weir with, directions are sent to him detailing the steps to get to the corner coffee shop.

When he arrives, through the window, he can see Mont resting her head in her arms behind the counter, staring at some coffee dripping from a filter into a cup. She's obviously lost in thought to the point she doesn't even pay attention to when the door opens.]

[fossick]

[He’s always been good with directions, and he takes to the instructions well enough that he memorizes them before heading out. No dallying. For him, this is more practicality than social call.

He arrives a handful of minutes later. He must be in the right place; the air hangs heavy with the scent of coffee.

And there she is.]

Bored already?

[nerine]

Hm? Oh!

[She lifts up her head, blinking at Weir. Then he gets a little wave.]

Hey there. And well... [Monts shrugs and points to the coffee.]

I wasn't bored. I like looking at coffee being filtered. It's relaxing.

[fossick]

To some, that may as well be the same as saying you like watching water come to a boil.

[But to each their own. Weir supposes there is comfort in repetition of sound and sight, though it would not be his visual of choice.]

I see business is booming.

[Sarcasm again.]

[nerine]

[It's the small and mundane rhythms and sensations that help keep her grounded. Her senses are rather limited after all.]

Thank you! Your encouragement is welcome as always!

[Rubber and glue...]

This drink is just about done. Would you like to have it?

[fossick]

[He resists rolling his eyes and manages, somehow, to be successful this time.]

And what is it?

[He eases himself into a stool near the counter. He can't imagine she's just going to serve him black coffee today.]

[nerine]

It's a slow-filter type of coffee as you may have noticed. It's a style specific to a country in my world.

[She points to the cup. Beneath the dark coffee is a shallow layer of white.]

That's condensed milk! That's what will sweeten the coffee. Do you want it iced or keep it hot?

[fossick]

[Guess he's going to be learning about coffee today when he's far more interested in the functions of his phone, but fine. Weir knows that this girl is going to take some humoring to a small degree before they ever get to the point of... anything, really. He's blunt and thoughtless with his words, but he has patience when he knows what he's getting into.]

How sweet, exactly? And hot is fine.

[nerine]

This style is usually very sweet to contrast with the very bitter. But I've lowered the usual amount of condensed milk since you don't seem like a sweet guy to me.

[Intentional? Not? You decide!]

If the weather was hotter, I'd recommend iced since that's the popular way to drink it. But anyway it should be done filtering now. I'll just mix it up and serve it to you as is.

[The filter is removed and she takes a long spoon to stir in rapid but controlled circles. The black coffee mixes with the milk until it's smooth and creamy and the steam emits a sweet scent.

With the coffee done, she pushes the cup towards Weir and gestures for him to take a sip.]