The Ninth Trial

[advisories]

Who: everyone
When: Day 18, starting just after dawn
Where: The Hermit's Tent, and all around

[This morning as the sun begins to pour through the train's windows, there's the tremor that signals a Trial.]

Come hither, Heroes. Prove thy worth. Or something like that!

[It's the same older man's voice from the sixth trial, and outside is the same fortune teller's stall. Today the front flap is lifted to show a normal interior -- there's a wooden table, carved with geometric patterns and painted in bright colours, lit by teal-coloured carved candles.

At the table sits a man of indeterminate age, somewhere between 30 and 60. He's wearing what appear to be monk's robes, teal with patterned trimming. In front of him is a crystal ball and a stack of bingo cards, along with a stand-up sign bearing the rules of this Trial.

Across the top in large font, it says:

Icebreaker Bingo

Good luck and have fun!]

Comments

[bad_crowmance]

Yeah, I don't think I've been subtle.

[ He shakes his head, amused. ]

Anyway, that's the kitchen you're used to, right? It'd make the most sense.

[voreaciously]

No, I suppose not.

[She rolls her eyes behind her blindfold but remembers he can't see that.]

I do cook in the communal area as well. Whatever your preference is is fine with me.

[bad_crowmance]

[ Maybe don't wear the blindfold, 80H? ]

Let's hit up Jasmine, then. I'm curious what kind of decorating scheme you guys got stuck with.

[voreaciously]

[but it's mysterious and nice.]

The best one. It needs more plants, however. Everywhere does.

[She does not hesitate and leads him there where it's UNDER THE SEA]

[bad_crowmance]

I didn't know you felt that strongly about plants.

[ He will follow her, then! ]

[voreaciously]

It is not simply that I feel strongly it is that... [She pauses, gropes for words to express it.]

Imagine living in a world with no sky after living that way most of your life. Something is fundamentally different, missing, even if you are not personally attached. It is like that.

[bad_crowmance]

[ He considers what she's saying for a moment. ]

So you're used to there being a lot more plants around-- is that it?

[voreaciously]

They were everywhere. They grew along the walls, in homes, outside buildings, as part of the infrastructure, to say nothing of whatever else people kept or themselves.

[bad_crowmance]

[ Yikes, that is a lot of plants. Possibly way too many plants. But he won't say that out loud. ]

So everything here must seem really... sterile to you.

[voreaciously]

Yes. There is a time and place for sterility but I would not apply that to the whole of the world. [She's fine with talking about it, but she does not want to be a poor host.]

Tea? Coffee?

[bad_crowmance]

I'll go with coffee.

[ Nothing wrong with tea, but he likes coffee better. ]

I can't really imagine plants being everywhere like that.

[voreaciously]

Very well. [Gonna make a fresh pot, take off her loves and roll her sleeves up before putting on...an apron. Over her goth battle wear.

Yeah.]

And, I would not have been able to imagine it, but it seems the norm for some people, at the very least. At any rate, the Jasmine carriage otherwise suits me.

[THERE ARE FISH!! IN THE WALLS!!1 THEY HAVE AN AQUARIUM!!!!!!]

[bad_crowmance]

[ Considering how skimpy her goth battle wear is, the apron is probably immensely useful. He's not here to question her admittedly bizarre-looking fashion choice either way. ....Though if prompted, he'd be more than happy to tell her how weird it looks. ]

With the "under the sea" motif? Yeah, can't say I'm surprised.

[voreaciously]

Yes! It is delightful. Ah, not that anything is wrong with Licorice.

[It's fine, it's fine! Can't have anything splatter on the velvet. Even if it looks funny wearing an apron over it. Probably funnier because she's in slippers. But she pulls knives out of the holder, seeming to search for something. She sighs, likely not finding it and instead something knife-shaped, blue and glowing forms in her hands in a bare instant. Really, and this is supposed to be a kitchen.

But she places her magic netting of shells and stones in one bowl, and the fish in another to be left in the sink with ice. The tap runs water and she starts to scrub the outside before placing one on a cutting board and with a careful, smooth movement of her wrist, slices its underbelly open.

She's always been proper and prim, but she does not hesitate at all to reach inside and pull out its bloody entrails, to be placed in another bowl.

The kitchen area starts to smell of coffee as it drips into the pot at a constant rhythm.]

[bad_crowmance]

Licorice's cabin works for me. It's just too bad I don't like the clothes half as much as the cabin itself.

[ But Licorice's clothes are terrible, it offends his sense of fashion.

He watches the way she seamlessly fillets the fish, her preparations careful and steady. She's clearly got a lot of experience in the department and he can't say it isn't impressive. It's a survival skill, one that works well when you're accustomed to catching and preparing your own food.

The scent of coffee soon fills the air, long before the pot will be finished. Crow closes his eyes and inhales. Coffee smells far more delicious than it has any right to, especially considering the preparations needed to actually make it palatable even after it's finished boiling. ]

[voreaciously]

[She doesn't look up from her work.]

It's the shorts, is it not?

[But once the entrails are removed she rinses it out and sets it aside before washing her hands. And setting up a tray just as the last of the coffee stops dripping. Pouring it carefully into a pot, she carries the tray over and serves him a cup with smooth elegance.]

How do you take it?

[bad_crowmance]

It's... definitely the shorts.

[ It's not that he has a problem with his legs but he'd really rather have pants! Shorts are only good when they're optional.

Crow watches the way she serves the coffee-- with all the grace of someone who is well-practiced in this sort of thing. He wonders again, briefly, what her function as an android is even supposed to be, but he pushes the thought aside. ]

I'll take some sugar and creamer with it. Black coffee's too bitter for me.

[voreaciously]

Please say when to stop. [But she will carefully add sugar and then creamer and memorise it for later.

The corner of her mouth twitches. Is that a near smile or a spasm? She doesn't seem capable of the former.]

Pants do seem like they would suit you better, some circumstances excepted naturally.

[like beachwear or dressing like a near-naked warrior for a trial. Probably the same diff to him, honestly.




Still can't believe you slipped her SOME TONGUE.]

[bad_crowmance]

[ Ask him if he regrets slipping 80H some tongue during that play. The answer won't surprise you at all. ]

That's exactly what I think! I'm not against shorts entirely, I just don't think they're right for me.

[ He nods after a moment. ]

Alright, that's perfect.

[voreaciously]

[She already knows that answer.

But she sighs, softly but with a subtle air of drama.]

Pity. You have such nice legs, too.

[She stops and then nods when he says that is good returns to her work, turning on the oven and leaving a quick note on the fridge. She washes some rice and sets in a pot. They really need a cooker--when are they getting that new kitchen--and she needs to order some more ingredients, she won't be able to do her best today, but it should suffice.

She gets some eggs, tapping them against a bowl and breaking them one-handed like it's nothing and starts to beat them.]

[bad_crowmance]

My legs weren't meant for the eyes of mere mortals.

[ He grins and rolls his eyes at his own statement-- he's making fun of himself with that one. He's confident in his looks but he wouldn't actually go quite that far with it. ]

You're really confident in the kitchen, aren't you?

[voreaciously]

[Her voice is solemn, heavy with the knowledge that he has bestowed unto her a great privilege.]

Then it is my honour that I can count myself among that number.

[She says it so straight that she must be joking.




Probably.]

Ah, well, I still have quite a bit to learn, actually...

[Comes the humble reply, but does not miss a beat. He is right, though, she does look very comfortable here, yes.]

I must apologise in advance. [She pulls out a baking sheet from the freezer and puts it in the oven, places a pan on the stove to be heated, and chops herbs and spinach to add to the eggs.] We are not stocked with the largest variety of food, I will have to remedy that, shortly.

[bad_crowmance]

[ He laughs at her reply to his stupid joke, shaking his head. She's got a dry sort of wit to her, it's a lot of fun.

And then she apologizes for the variety of food, and he waves a hand vaguely to and fro. ]

I promise you, whatever you make will be better than what I've been cooking for myself. I'm a mediocre cook at best.

[voreaciously]

[She wonders if she will ever get tired of hearing him laugh. Not many did in the Carrots house and that was fine, really. It just was not in their personalities even if most of them did possess senses of humour.

Her heart hurts to think about it. She grew used to cooking with others at this time for the rest of the house, but she needs to shove that memory aside to function.]

That is surprising.

[She pours a bit of oil into the pan and follows with a bit of the egg mixture, folding it in on itself as it cooks and then adding more egg into the pan to repeat the process.]

[bad_crowmance]

What, that I'm not a fantastic cook too? The Goddess already gave me enough blessings as it is, I've gotta have some flaws.

[ The truth is, he's got at least one or two things he can cook pretty well-- but overall, he hadn't been interested in becoming better than "okay" at cooking. ]