blue heron leaves the northern sky [closed]

[borntohurt]

WHO: Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan, and Angel
WHEN: May-ish. After plant-shenanigans, pre-fancy party
WHERE: Quad 001
WHAT: Introductions should probably be made sooner, rather than later.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, violence, body-horror, etc.


Coming from the world they had, a number of strange and unusual things could be rationalized away in the course of settling in. Charles knew that. He had known that the supernatural was a possibility, though he hadn't quite understood the scope of what was actually possible before he was swept out of his home world and dropped into these strange crossroads of the universes.

Arthur, he imagined, did not have any easier of a time processing everything.

Which meant that there were certain aspects that should probably be explained to him before he had a chance to draw his own conclusions.

After Arthur had seen some of that strangeness for himself, Charles had expected a stronger reaction than he wound up getting. It was a relief, truth be told. Arthur accepted, even if he didn't understand. And maybe that could apply to a great many things.

Which just left the matter of some of his new friends, and after having gotten dressed and settled in once again, Charles sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "There's more I should probably...well. Don't know if 'warn' is really the right word."

Comments

[circumspector]

"Light year is how you measure time in space. No planet rotation to measure the year. So we talk it about the pace that light travels. It's very fast, in case you were wondering, it's quite incredible - not that it makes a light year short, but actually, you can quantify it in -"

Thankfully for everyone involved, Angel's bird opens it's caw and lets out a loud shriek, effectively cutting her off. Stop talking! Want food! Hungry! Fiiiiiish!

It distracts her momentarily before she looks concerned up at Charles for confirmation. "Is Fish okay for birds? Or is it like the Tequila for deer thing?" Pet, pet, pet. "Does fishing on Earth involve throwing someone overboard to use their legs as bait?"

[borntohurt]

A statement that should be more alarming, if he didn't know what her point of reference was. Seriously. Here was hoping they never wound up on Pandora.

"It doesn't usually. Little bit of corn or bread, or worms or crickets if you're going for something larger." His brow wrinkles slightly. "And fish is fine for birds, as long as it's small enough for them to eat or tear up. Though I've also heard you can buy them from stores, as well."

Completely innocent face here.

[towhatmatters]

Does fishing involve what now?

The complete lack of reaction from Charles manages to be equally as mystifying, if not as horrifying, as that question in the first place. Arthur looks between the two of them several times, trying to make sense of this. What kind of place would use anyone's legs as bait? Why is Charles brushing past it like Angel asks questions like this all the time? What kind of place does she come from? What does tequila have to do with deer?

Eventually, his gaze falls on Charles, looking for some kind of explanation to make sense of this.

[circumspector]

"That's enough? Just some crickets or worms or bread? It doesn't need to be screaming?" She sounds - frankly unsure like she doesn't really believe him. Which she doesn't.

Fiiiiish! Screeches Murder Princess, helpfully. Of course, the sound it makes isn't so horrible to anyone else, go figure.

"I'll try fish from the store then, I don't know, it feels weird strange feeding animals cooked food or things that aren't raw and screaming." Sigh. But she looks down at her pure and serene bird as it flexes its wings.

"Well if you say so, how does that sound, Princess? Little fish for you to eat? Then you can have eyeballs that are good for you, instead of trying to pick out the Reindire eyeballs and have them try and swat at you. Good, Murder Princess. Much nicer."

[borntohurt]

"Angel comes from a world that's...a lot stranger than ours. A lot more violent, if you can believe that."

Yes, Arthur, he sees that look. He used to make that face too, before these sort of proclamations from Angel became the norm. "It's full of monsters, and bandits. A lot of strange creatures, and stranger machines."

Then, after a brief pause, he reaches down to his side. Bite's been there for a while now, and he holds up the usually-crafted gun as an example. Anyone who'd spent their life handling a weapon would realize how fantastic it really was, in design.

[towhatmatters]

Sure, he'd had some exposure to it through meeting Angel out on the battlefield, so to speak. Had gotten to hold a weapon that spit fire in his hands. But to be unable to comprehend catching fish without having screaming bait? That's not ingenuity, that's just ...

Terrible.

He looks back at Angel, and shakes his head. Just. No.

[circumspector]

.... Oh, shoot. That too.

It's hard. She tries. She really, honestly did try. Charles, Connor and Jacob made her comfortable. A lot more than was necessary sometimes especially when so many of her other conversations ended with the person going blanch white and vaguely ill when she talked too long. They always carried on the conversation as best they could.

( Even if she smiles, at the pride that Charles would go to show the weapon she had made, all by herself. That he still had such regard for it. )

"What Charles is trying to say is that it's filled with cannibals, criminals, and animals that will eat your friends alive on top of you where almost everyone goes crazy in order to survive. I come from the planet Pandora, and we consider shooting each other to be hello, and the only person I know whose more psychopathic than all of them is my Dad."