come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. Field (early morning, ota)

[Old habits die hard, and the current circumstances are no excuse to slack in one's skills. A blade only stays honed if it is properly sharpened, after all, and Ayato prefers to remain battle-ready at every possible turn.

The woods are still in the early stages of predawn when he quietly exits Scorpio Cabin, his steps a velvet tread so as to not disturb any of his sleeping bunkmates. He makes his way to the empty field, scoping the area out and nodding to himself absentmindedly; it had seemed large enough upon entry, and this close it's easy to determine that he should have more than enough room.

He launches into a well practiced calisthenics routine first and foremost, warming his muscles up to be more receptive to the later training to follow soon enough. Once he's sure he's properly stretched, he summons his sword forth to materialize within his grip.

Just the basics of swordplay today. It's never a good idea to become reliant on one's Vision, as having it stolen from your grasp is always a possibility. Eyes half closed in concentration, he begins his kendo drills. His footwork is well practiced, each swing of his sword graceful, and his posture is - as expected - immaculate as always.]

II. Mess Hall (open!)

[Later in the day, after the sun has properly risen and he's had the time to take a brisk shower to cool off from his morning workout, Ayato can be found seated within the mess hall. He seems to have raided the arts and crafts building on his way over; a stack of unlined paper, an inkwell, and a calligraphy brush having joined him at his table in addition to his breakfast. He's opted for a more western meal this day, as it is in his nature to try new things whenever possible. Eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits slathered in gravy... Occasionally he breaks to take a bite of one or all of the above, take a sip from his cup of tea, or simply give his hand a much needed break.

Looking over his shoulder, one will notice his penmanship is neat and well practiced, jotting down characters that are stylistically similar to Japanese hiragana, though are by no means a perfect one-to-one recreation. Those well versed in Inazuman script, however, will note that he appears to be transcribing poetry from memory.

A world of dew,
And within every dewdrop
A world of struggle.]

[ Mizuki, who also hails from a country very similar to Japan in his own world, absolutely picks up on the similarity as he passes by, scooting over to steal the seat next to Ayato. Mizuki's own plate of food is… meat. It's all meat. And the little dork himself is drenched with water, like he'd just come from the lake and directly went to the mess hall. It's likely. Who doesn't like a good morning swim?

Or, rather, who doesn't like waking up at the bottom of the lake?

Anyway, he makes sure not to get Ayato wet, at least. He can still be polite while pestering the new folk. ]

Your handwriting is very neat~. You know, I write letters home a lot, but I'm so bad at making it look nice. Even when I try really hard it ends up looking real stilted. [ Little smile. ] Hallo hallo, by the way~. I'm Mizuki.

[He looks up at Mizuki's arrival, seemingly unbothered by both his company and his damp appearance. He gets a polite smile, in fact.] Thank you, Mizuki. Kamisato Ayato; it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

[He shifts his grip on the brush, giving a swift and calculated stroke to finish off the character he had been in the midst of penning.] Calligraphy was one of the skills my mother deemed necessary to cultivate during my studies, as befits someone of my station. I've had a lot of practice as a result; I can assure you that within my own letters my penmanship isn't quite this neat.

[ Mizuki shoves some of the egg from his plate into his mouth while Ayato speaks, and doesn’t speak with his mouth full when he finished as least. That would be rude? Especially when this person looks kind of fancy, even in these dumb, silly camp outfits. ]

Oh, is this something more personal, then? [ He can sort of make out some of the characters. It looks a bit like a poem. Maybe it is! ] Do you do stuff like this often, then?

[ guess who is practically magnetically attracted to poetry?? hello. there's the briefest flow of a breeze over ayato's shoulder--though the door may or may not be closed to the mess hall, but venti either rises early with the sun like a bird to the dawn chorus, or sleeps in until noon or later. either or. and today it seems like it might be the former, he's finished his own breakfast mostly consisting of fruits and veg options and hi there, there's ayato writing at the table and venti is naturally a nosy little god, he would peer over his shoulder at that haiku. ]

What a potent little verse, in the Inazuma style...

Is this your original? [ he does have quite a knowledge of... well, inazuma poems from centuries ago, possibly the last time he'd visited. the span of centuries is so light and occasional to gods. but he doesn't quite recognize this one. ]

[There's a pause in his brush strokes as he hears the other speak, the bristles hovering over the page for a moment before he lifts it up to place it neatly within the inkwell. Out of the way, and in no danger of accidentally dripping across his writing while he breaks to converse.]

Not my own, no. My original works are far less poignant, I'm afraid. This is the work of one of Inazuma's most famed poets, I merely enjoy the art of transcription from time to time. [He shifts just a bit to the side, very clearly making room on the bench beside him despite there already being more than enough space. Mostly just to convey that he doesn't mind the bard's company.]

Good morning, Venti. I trust you had a good night's rest?

[ well now, he'll happily take the seat next to ayato then. and let's just assume they've totally exchanged introductions because oh god hiatus and my awful tagging is just... ]

Kamisato-san~ I sure did. Those bunk beds are pretty novel! But it's rather cute to be able to sleep on a higher platform like that.

It's a captivating verse... it rather reminds me of a Mond fairy tale, in which worlds could exist in the smallest dimensions of nature, from the light of dandelion to the seeds of an apple. [ one, which he has in the palm of his hand--his favored fruit. the beloved fruit of the gods or possibly the singular god that is him. ] But you shouldn't talk yourself down, I'm certain your own work could be just as intriguing.

[me with my terrible memory sittin here suddenly unable to recall if they actually did do introductions when they first met.... it's fine dwbi kjahsgdhkg]

They're not quite upon the same comfort standards as the bedding onboard the ship, but they do the job well enough. I myself elected to claim one of the bottom bunks, as it affords better mobility in a crisis, though I imagine that shouldn't be much of an issue for you given your mastery of the winds.

[Ayato himself has yet to hear of Venti's status as Mondstadt's absentee Archon, but he mentally filed the way the shape and color of the bard's false Vision the moment he laid eyes upon it.

He props his arm up on the table, shelving his chin on top of his closed fist and letting out a soft, thoughtful hum.] A proposal then, in that case. I'm interested in hearing this fairy tale of yours in full, if you don't mind, and in turn I'll regale you with one of my own works. Then you will be free to judge my wording for yourself.

Edited (forgot a whole sentence shh) 2022-06-17 13:15 (UTC)

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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