JUNE EVENT: CAMP

[sailmods]

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!

Comments

[yanwang]

[ it is a curious thing, how fascination touches upon a human's features just the same as those who came before and those who will come long after. it is a grounding thing, he thinks, that no matter the course of lives and the struggles that mortals must endure, there is always room for such moments as these over the simplest parts of their reality. but, is that not what zhongli learned to find beautiful too? is it not what zhongli had come to appreciate, the novelties and innovations of man?

the puzzle in clarke's hands neither budges nor opens. it only rests there, gradual in its eventual erosion. particles of stone and shards of jade, the vein of ore unnamed - it all fragments as he too will one day. dust as dust become, so too will he wear away against the tides of time and the winds eternal. ]

Yes. [ it's a warm, little word. it catches at the edge of his eyes, the red lining never smudging as it vanishes, for a moment, into the minute crease of skin. ] In Liyue, they are known by a variety of names. However, due to the wards upon "outside" languages in this place, it would appear I might only call them by their Common name: burr puzzles.

[ he turns up a hand, the pale of his palm warming to something more golden as the rest of the puzzle dissolves. the debris reshapes between them, slow at first and somehow rough. a rounded body of a bird, perhaps? ]

Though their exact origins are not known, such puzzles have existed for many a century. Often, two master carpenters are given credit for their creation. However, due to the absence of records, it is subject to academic debate. [ he lowers his hand. the bird he's created settles into its form, smooths along its edges. it does not seem to echo the more delicate motions of its namesake, but seems instead to glide as though a kite would. its wings in a permanent stretch, it circles much like his puzzle did. ] What is not debated is their influence upon traditional joinery. Of the pair, one is often attributed the creation of a variety of woodworking instruments.

[ the knowledge isn't something he gets to share often, he thinks. not these days. ]

[skaikru]

( wonder and amazement at new, magnificent experiences are inherently human. plainly childlike, only that's a part of youth not even the harshest realities could stomp out of adults. there's always something that stokes at the dead nerve endings of excitement — even after losing track of how many people she loved on earth, clarke still thinks fondly of the tall stretches of trees, can't contain a twinge of amazement at the sight of horses and butterflies, would sit and sketch wildflowers until her hand cramped if she had the time to spare. misses the ambiance of bugs clicking in the evening shadows, the perpetually familiar blanket of stars above, and below the scent of dirt filled with decomposing leaves and rain just before a storm...

...come to think of it, that's another thing this outdoor camp experience is missing. it doesn't smell right, in concert to the lack of animals and poorly rendered fungi and roots beneath the plants.

if she mourns the dissolvement of the magic puzzle in her hands, it's a quiet and secret sort of sadness. her face remains buckled in thought and as impassable as she can make it, even when he starts crafting a bird out of that same set of stone particles. clarke does take this next bout of magical stoneworking as a more sincere invitation to linger here, though, and now she takes up residence on the second stone seat he'd dragged from the earth. )

I didn't realize there was so much history behind children's toys.

( the stone bird takes its final form and takes to gliding in its own personal orbital pull. clarke watches its stiff flight pattern intently, but still spares a cautious glance at zhongli's face every few seconds. wary, even in the absence of any direct threat. how's a human supposed to look at something or someone so plainly more powerful than them? and despite the urge to reach out again, she leaves the bird be.

if she squinted, maybe it'd even look more organic. like a real bird. god, when did she start missing birds? )

Or controversy.