Cold, the air and water flowing

[kahl_175]

WHO: Kahl-175 and you!
WHEN: Throughout December, mostly early in the month.
WHERE: The Inn and its surroundings.
WHAT: Kahl goes fishing, improvises some tableware, enjoys the snow, does some Cyborg Things™, and helps get people inside before curfew.
WARNINGS: None so far!


A. Fishing [[A relaxing pastime. Or is it?]]

Kahl's a little confused by the stick with a string on it, but he gets the idea. You put little bits of food on the hook, and that stabs the fish instead of Kahl stabbing them with a spear, right? It makes sense, but it's new to him.

So is fishing with ice. When he got deployed somewhere cold, it was cold. No liquid water anywhere. The idea of standing on a lake is weird, but it seems to be working so far.

Maybe. He hasn't seen any fish yet.

[[Either join Kahl in peaceful fishing adventures, or perhaps the ice starts making unpleasant noises under his weight. It might be about to give way...]]


B. Soup [[A primer on table manners in the Grineer Army.]]

Kahl caught fish! He'd been tempted to gut them and cook them out by the lake, but instead he brought them back to the kitchen. That would help pay for staying here.

And give him a chance to be proud of the fish.

It's not long before he's distracted by what's going on in the rest of the kitchen, though. "That smell good," he points to a large pot over a low fire. "Can eat?"

He gets the go-ahead. "Kahl thank," he unbuckles his helmet, running a hand over his bald head. That was a mistake. His prosthetics are cold.

All the more reason to have soup. It'll warm up the helmet before he puts it back on.

He ladles some soup into the helmet, grabbing a spoon on his way out of the kitchen and finding a seat somewhere near a fire to warm up.

He smiles to whoever else is nearby, gesturing with his makeshift bowl. "Good food here. You have enough?"


C. Snow [[See, snow!]]

The last time Kahl saw snow was in the army. But he hadn't really looked at it. You looked for stuff hiding in the snow. You looked for tracks that told you someone had walked through it. The snow itself was just there.

But now Kahl's thinking more about snow. How white it is until stuff gets in it, the crunching noises it makes in some places, and the way his feet sink into it when he walks.

Right now, he's just sitting outside the inn, looking at the snow. Picking up handfuls of it, trying to bring it up to his eye without breathing on it, so he can get a better look at what snow really is, before it turns into water.

There's a lot of stuff he missed in the army.


D. Maintenance [[Character deconstruction.]]

Snow is good. Ice, Kahl's less convinced about. And sand is bad. Sand got spread around on the ice, and then it gets into his ankle joints. He can feel the little grinding crunch of the grains. His hands are getting beat up too. One of his fingers hasn't been moving right since Eidris.

There's no spare parts here, so he'll just have to fix the ones he's got. He sits down in one of the big open rooms, taking out an equipment case built into his armor, laying out all the little tools on a table.

There's a quiet whirring noise from his right leg. He holds it steady and twists, his knee coming straight out of its socket. It sounded a bit loud, though. Maybe something up at the plug needed cleaning. That would be a pain.

Ankle first, though. He puts his detached lower leg on the table, leaning in to inspect the joints. Not bad. Not great, though. He'll disassemble it.

Bits of leg start piling up on the table in neat little rows, all metal and military-grade polymer. He doesn't know the names for all the parts, but he knows what they all do, and what they should look like. And they're going to be keeping him busy for a while.


E. Curfew [[Quick! An excuse for CR!]]

Curfew is easy for Kahl. Now that he's figured out how long the day cycles are here, he set a timer in his augments. No guesswork required, he knows exactly how much time they've got until the doors slam shut.

Which is why he's gesturing urgently to someone still outside. "Curfew, fifteen seconds! Ghosts coming. Get in!"


F. Wildcard! [[Got another idea? Hit me up on the planning post/CR meme, at CellarSpider#9984, or at PaleAntiquarian! If we've already discussed something, feel free to do your own TL!

And as a bonus for reading this far: the music from the title/cut text, We All Lift Together! I cannot be held liable if it gets stuck in your head for the next decade.]]

Comments

a: feesh

[bearshermark]

There's someone at the fishing spot.

Borrowed rod over his shoulder and bucket in hand, Eleven hangs back a moment to observe. He doesn't recognize the silhouette- but then, he really should stop expecting to. With a shrug of his shoulders, he ducks beneath a snowy evergreen branch to follow the frozen lake shore.

"Hello," he calls as he approaches, dipping his head in a nod where his hands are too preoccupied to manage a wave. A large sort, armored in a way that Eleven knows can't be comfortable at this temperature. His hopes for pleasant company dwindle, but he'd rather not carve a hole into the ice elsewhere if he doesn't have to.

"..Do you mind if I join you?"

[kahl_175]

A voice, coming in from Kahl's blind side. He looks up, a lopsided smile pulled down by the scars spilling out front under his eyepatch. He doesn't know this one. One of the local humans? It doesn't matter, though.

"Kahl not mind," he replies, his voice rough and slow. He leans down to pick up some of his things, clearing a spot on the ice where he'll be able to see the newcomer. "Company always welcome." He'd liked it when his brothers went fishing with him back on Earth. Quiet times were better with people in them.

"Kahl not know fishing with this," he gives the stick in his hand a wiggle. "Always fish with spear before. Help teach Kahl?"

[bearshermark]

Eleven smiles, concerns about the man's disposition easing. Though Goddess, he's missing an eye. He settles in the cleared space and shifts his focus to his companion's- Kahl's- improvised rod with a nod.

"It's pretty simple," he assures, reaching out for the line to brush a careful thumb over the hook. Serviceable. He lets it drop, then twists to fish out a small box out of his bucket. He flips it open and sets it between them. Dark soil writhes and wriggles. Eleven's fingers dig into it, then gently pry a worm from the container. He holds it out to Kahn.

"Live bait. Pierce it once or twice through, then sit still until you feel the line tug."

C: Snow!

[blackscales]

Wrathion can tolerate the cold, to a point. Being plunged immediately into icy water is something he avoids, as the sharp shock to his body is far from pleasant, but in general walking around in the snow is... unpleasant. He's returning to the inn, laden down with some wood and berries, and giving the occasional involuntary shiver. The snow that lands on him appears to be instantly melting from his high body temperature, but he can still feel the weather slowly cooling him down.

He flips back his hood, shakes any damp droplets of snowmelt from his curls as he reaches the front door -- then pauses to study Kahl. He is, at least, slightly under a cover here but... still.

"Have you not seen snow before?"

A guess, based on the fascination. Perhaps it did not snow where he was from? A hotter climate, perhaps?

[kahl_175]

Kahl looks up to red eyes. Glowing. Augments, maybe?

"Kahl see before. Not see close," he gestures with the handful of snow. "Little things shine in light. Like metal." He could see there was more detail, but he hadn't figured out how to look at it yet.

He wasn't sure if he remembered that, back on deployment. Maybe this was normal here, not back at home. "Red eye man from off-planet too?" Kahl hadn't seen eyes like that before.

Or... No. Maybe he had.

[blackscales]

Wrathion winces visibly at the question, begins to unpack the collected wood carefully.

"I travel with the Merchant's party," he allows. They're meant to be at least a little subtle, so much as one can be. "You are a newer addition?"

He'd think he'd... recognise them if not. The figure they cut does rather stand out, after all, and does not lend itself to.... disguising well, or blending in. Still, he could be wrong. They may have left and returned...?

the bowl...!!!!

[downswing]

Quick, deft and thorough have been Lan Wangji's humiliations of the day, documented on his borrowed robes: blood smears from where he's gathered morning waters from the troubled wells. The dark viscera of saturated oils from lamps that have wanted adjustment and polish. A sketch of abstracts in the gore of captive fish, which the cooks of the inn have spared him from butchering in light of his diet, but supplied him to wrap and preserve in thickened salts.

He is still a creature of the kitchens, come midday and his companion who — blessed world, can it be, delivers more fish for Lan Wangji to behold with slowly, callously accruing horror. His hands nearly shiver with thought of more white powdered on his joints, caked beneath his nails. He shakes his head, absently, and prepares to collect the carcass, before he finds Kahl already committing his second obscenity of the day.

In the bustle of the kitchens, the thickened wafts of broth and glutinous rice warming, the skirmish of cookery hands cutting their path through the rooms — Lan Wangji's world stops, as he hovers over the man.

Who bastardises a helmet.

Before Lan Wangji calmly usurps a second ladle to drum it once over Kahl's knuckles.

"Bowl." No. No, as with rabbits and small children, specificity is key. "Fetch."

Lan Wangji did not win wars against primordial evil for men to drink their meals from campaign gear.

🍜

[kahl_175]

"Augh!" Metal clangs off his prosthetics, and Kahl recoils in surprise, trying not to spill the soup.

"Cleaning bowl more work for kitchen," he protests, but he sounds a little guilty about it. "Helmet work fine."

This isn't the first time he's been told off for this.

[downswing]

Ah, but to be the keeper of an overgrown, seemingly distraught child. Excuse Lan Wangji, lord and master of the world's most intuitive frown, sketched long, deep and unwavering while he toys with the ladle as if it were a blade, twirled and balanced between his fingers.

He does not shiver, does not move, does not back down. They are as men, not animals, not infants. Possessed of manners, of lawful habits, of decorum. They might have paved bricks of misfortune on a road of otherwise benevolent intentions from Sa-Hareth to Serthica, but they can retain enough dignity to recall base kitchen manners.

"You may cleanse your bowl thereafter."

And settle this apparently gruesome mental paradigm that is shaking Kahl's world, while Lan Wangji silently points towards the mounds of freshly-washed pots, pans and bowls by the great sinks. Fetch, sir.

C: snow

[makemeasong]

Clara has a basket full of leafy things for the kitchen, different veg that grows in the forest. She's dressed warmly and when she walks up the steps to the inn and sees Kahl, she breaks out into a rosy-cheeked, dimpled grin. It's nice to see people outside of fear and hurt, without anything manipulating their emotions, and while she's had some personal ups and downs recently, seeing Kahl is always a mood booster.

Bounding up the steps, she puts her basket down, tilting her head to one side.

"Do you get cold very easily?" It's a random question, she knows, but she's curious.

[kahl_175]

Kahl looks up, grinning as he sees who it is. "Clara!" He didn't know she was around. He brushes the snow from the space around him, cleaning a spot in case his brother wants to sit down.

"This armor not best for cold, but do okay." He had Arktuk gear back on Earth, but that was for real cold places. Moons where everything was frozen. His old plate was doing okay.

"Best gloves and boots though," he raps the bare metal on the back of his fingers against a shin, making a solid clang. "Never feel cold."

He'd never actually thought about that until now. Huh. "Hands and feet get cold, right?" They must, but he wouldn't know.

[makemeasong]

"Hands and feet do get cold, but I suppose if those don't get cold for you with the armor, we don't have to worry."

But she unravels the scarf she found from around her neck, and only because he's sitting and she's on a step, can she wrap it around his neck properly. She grins at him again, taking in her handiwork. It's big and woolen because she was out in the woods and she's tiny, but here on the porch, she's alright.

"Perfect." Once she's settled beside him, she holds out her hand beyond the roof covering so she can feel some snow settle in her hand. "When I was a little girl, I used to think snow was magic. It made everything feel quiet, and it made everyone want to be closer, stay inside and read with me or make sweets," she says with a soft smile of remembered fondness.

d. maintenance

[chosenbylight]

Anduin steps into the room, a mug of tea cupped between his hands, intending on finding a quiet space to sit and enjoy the view of the falling snow outside. He has missed snow. While Stormwind is a coastal city, he spent much of his childhood in the dwarven mountains to the north. And combining that with his memories of the inn at the Tavern in the Mists in Pandaria, the whole atmosphere of the place here is leaving him feeling rather... Nostalgic.

"Ah," he says, politely, realizing the room is already preoccupied. "Forgive me, I hope I am not interrupting your work."

Is that... His leg? Despite his apologies, Anduin finds himself stepping closer to examine just what precisely the other man has got laid out on the table before him.

[kahl_175]

Kahl looks up, giving the new man a quick, lopsided smile. "It good." If he'd wanted to be alone, he'd go sit in the sleeping room they gave him. Kahl liked being where people were.

And he's happy to explain when he sees curiosity about his prosthetics. "Boot get dirty," He holds up his partially disassembled shin, the knee plate rattling quietly against it. "Make joints bad. Kahl fix."

It was just part of being Grineer. Parts of you didn't work, you fixed them. Usually it was a lot less comfortable, though.

"Kahl never go to place like this before." He hadn't really known places like this existed until getting stolen to this planet. It was a new idea, full of details didn't fit into any words he really understood.

But there were basics that he could appreciate. "Good place to sit." He gestures to the rest of the table that isn't covered in leg, in case the man wants to join him. "Blond man know places like this?"

[chosenbylight]

Anduin nods in quiet thanks for the invitation, stepping up to join the other man at the table. He recognizes Kahl from their group, even if he does not know him by name. Neither does Kahl know his, apparently. He smiles slightly at being addressed as 'blond man', before taking the seat he had been offered.

"I do," he says. "There is a place very similar to this, where I am from. I spent a good amount of time there when I was younger. An inn nestled in the mountains of Pandaria -- the Tavern in the Mists. It was a quiet place for a weary traveler to stop and take a moment to relax."

He glances up to offer his companion a smile. "Or for a young boy to recover from his injuries, as it so happens."

A. Fishing

[westviews]

What a peculiar little fellow.

Wanda isn't sure if he's part of the travelers or a part of the inn, but since she's out here checking the lake out, she decides to approach and see what he's doing. Her footsteps stop a safe distance away, not wanting to get too close just yet. But curiosity wins all the same.

"Are you fishing?" She asks, even if it must be obvious.

[kahl_175]

A voice--somebody on his blind side. Kahl turns his head to look, the ice creaking quietly beneath him.

"Heh. Kahl try it. No fish yet though." His voice is rough and slow, and a little stuffed up from the cold. His armor's not made for snow, but it's doing okay right now. And the eyepatch is keeping his scars from hurting too bad from the cold air.

"Kahl always use spear before. Not hook on string. Maybe Kahl do it wrong." He looked down again, peering into the hole in the ice. "Red-hair lady know fishing?"

[westviews]

Wanda's gaze drops to the ice beneath him, gauging its thickness.

"No. I don't know anything about fishing." The great outdoors was never her forte. "But I do know it's dangerous, being on the edge of the ice like that. You sure you want to be so close?"

maintenance

[techmaturgy]

Viktor is not necessarily a fan of the cold, but he's finding it to be something of a relief after their stay in Serthica. If they have to earn their keep, he's more than content to do it by tinkering. The good news is that there's no shortage of things to fix, and as soon as he makes his talent known in that department, the locals task him with creating various devices.

Which is fine. He'd rather be busy than not, but in his quest to devise an automatic salter, he finds himself scrounging around the inn for parts. These...are not the parts that he's looking for, but he stares anyway.

"Do you--" Viktor seems to realize this might be rude just a moment too late, but he presses onward, because he is nothing if not committal. Also, the sight of new, unfamiliar technology practically begs him to get involved, no matter how personal it might be to the guy currently dismantling his own leg. "Need any help with that?"

[kahl_175]

Kahl looks up from cracking open the servo casings under the armor, old injuries making his friendly smile droop on one side. "Kahl okay."

He doesn't know this man's name, but he's definitely one of the group. Someone else getting a rest, after the city. He holds up part of his leg. "Boots get dirty in Eidris. Joints not work so good. Kahl fix."

But that wasn't the only reason why he'd been approached, that was easy enough to see. "Brown-hair Man want to look?"

[techmaturgy]

Viktor is not entirely convinced, but he also knows it’s not his place to assume what Kahl does and doesn’t know about his own body. If he needs the assistance of an engineer, he’ll certainly ask for it—as it stands, this seems like fairly rudimentary upkeep.

Still, he itches to get a closer look, simply because he’s never seen anything like it before. His own curiosity gets the better of him, and when invited he takes a step closer.

“I. Yes. If you’re willing.” And isn’t just offering out of politeness or some sense of obligation. “It’s an impressive build. Did you design it yourself?”

C. Snow

[traaaaaash]

[ Luckily for Eda, she's pretty well-acquainted with the snow, having spent quite some time at The Knee, the coldest place of the the Boiling Isles. It's quite fun once in a while, though to be honest, it's about to get annoying, the way the cold seeps into her bones.

So she bundles up and keeps herself busy whenever she's not too tired to do anything. She steps out of the Inn, only to see one of her compatriots... just sitting there, apparently. Inspecting the snow. ]

What's this? Meditation?

[kahl_175]

[A voice Kahl recognizes. He looks up, smiling.] Heh. Kahl not know how to do that. Kahl just look at snow. It more than Kahl see before.

[The snow can wait, though, people are more important.] Owl Lady Eda doing good?

E /late! so sorry

[soloritur]

The cold doesn't bother Marcos, at all really. Neither does the dark, aside from his powers having less light to draw from. He can't help but be on edge since they arrived at the inn, and he feels better when he's productive. It's easy for him to do a sweep of the area so he's a natural pick.

When he hears a voice calling out fifteen seconds, he's quick to respond, and jogs towards the open door.

"Thanks." Once he makes it in he turns his attention to the man as he catches his breath. He sounds familiar, and he's seen him around, so he nods gratefully. "I lost track of time. They're pretty serious about it, huh?"

brothers always welcome!!

[kahl_175]

The doors snap shut, like they're agreeing with Marcos. "Too serious. Even army not do this." The army would close the doors, but they'd let you in with the right codes and a lot of grumbling.

Not him, though. No anger over something like that. "Kahl glad brother Marcos make it. No one else still outside?"