Open ✪ Finweald Moving Boxes

[Harlow]

If you aren't smart, you must be strong.

A motto repeated thousands of times to in his years of training from another world. At first thought, it might present as an insulting sentiment. To suggest unintelligence is a blow to the ego, but that too was part of the training. Ego had no place in preparation. The reflected ideals, being smarts and strength, were the two necessary ingredients, with strength coming first. If one hasn't the power break through the barrier, it matters not what they should think of on the other side. There is no future for the feeble. A practiced discipline.

Harlow lifted another crate, beginning his trek through a series of alleys. The path was short and uninteresting, not unlike the Magia who walked it. A plain robe, a rigid posture, and a ceaseless diligence presented him with the impression of a worker ant. Despite that, it was not charmless. It left room for imagination. The mind is free to wander, even while feet follow a charted path.

Although he had acted almost completely wordlessly since accepting the task of manual labor, he whispered once to himself. Given a momentary absentmindedness, he didn't realize that he'd spoken the words at all. This was made additionally anomalous, as he spoke clearly without his typical dialectic ticks. He set the box down at the destination, beginning his walk back to retrieve the next.

"If you aren't smart, you must be strong."

 

[Solaria]

Her ears twitched as she thought she heard someone speak while passing a man clad in a plain robe. It was because of the words she thought she heard that she turned to look at the stranger, a finger moving to scratch her cheek. Clearly, he hadn't been talking to her- but the words struck a chord. And so, she tactlessly called out to him. "If you aren't smart, you must be strong... But can one not be both?"

His words had struck her because she knew she wasn't the smartest there was- yet she was working hard to get into nursing school, and she'd gotten into a good college on scholarship. Surely, that meant something to her. But more importantly, did that mean strong people couldn't have level heads too? She frowned as she wondered if that was the case.

"Do you need some help with those boxes?" She soon asked, letting her frustration melt away on the curbside beneath her feet. "I may not look it, but I'm pretty tough." That was only with a sword, she realized- but she could use the weight training anyway. Hawnell was a bit heavier than her previous swords, after all. And besides- she had to prove to herself she had enough brawn to keep going, didn't she?

@Harlow

 

[Harlow]

Harlow paused when he was addressed, turning to acknowledge the stranger. A mental check of his facial database came up with no match. Regardless, internally, there was an ounce of shame. To be caught speaking to himself was a universally embarrassing predicament. He'd have to explain his thought process quickly, in an attempt to dodge misunderstanding, and perhaps save a sliver of pride.

Both, absolutely. I think it means, like, if you could only have one, it is better to be strong. But it's not my saying, so I can't tell you I know the true meaning. I'm stealing it from someone wiser and more experienced than myself. It's one of those phrases that can mean something different to everyone, too, so…

"Both… Potentially." Prideless. The rambling words he'd been concocting in his conscious presented plainly. It was something he had come to expect from his translation module. Harlow nodded to the question as to whether she could join. A mundane task, but one that would go by much swifter with a second set of hands. He made no promises for excitement.

Of course, he had a bottomless pit full of questions about this world, but one thing he had learned so far was not to judge by appearance. He'd seen enough unassuming folk with unreasonable capabilities during the Red Fever situation. By simplest methods of comparison, she was even an inch taller than himself. Either way, Harlow wouldn't turn away a helping hand, no matter how soft and unsplintered they seemed. The dojo doors had always been open to anyone, and training had never been about fashion anyway.

"Affirmative. A job for pay. I'll split. Over."

Many he met cared mostly for money, so he supposed it was best to mention that first. He turned away from her and continued on towards the mound of stacked crates. They were sized uncomfortably, so that handling one alone was not too arduous, but two together would be too sizeable for reason. Neither of them were giants, and Harlow wasn't particularly magical, so the rational one box at a time method would have to do.

Before lifting his next, he pressed a finger onto the roof of one of the wooden crates, repeating a clarification of the job.

"Blue stickers stay. Red stickers move. Over."

 

[Solaria]

"I appreciate it, but I'm more worried about you hurting your back from overwork. Though I must admit, you have some good posture. It's impressive." She gave a beaming smile, turning to the pile of boxes. Immediately, she grabbed one with a blue sticker, bending her knees to help her lift it upward properly. "Good thing I've helped dad move sandbags a few time... Though those weren't nearly this heavy. I wonder what's in here?"

With a soft laugh, she began to carry the box cheerfully to its destination, following him to make sure she put it in the right place. "Ah, I'm Solaria by the way. Can I ask your name, sir?" It was funny to some how she could say 'sir' so easily, but never handled it well to be called so formally herself. Just 'miss' was a little unnerving to her. Anything more and she would complain.

"Are you a starcalled too?" She asked rather abruptly. The starcalled- that was what players were called, right? She had a hard time remembering that, despite being decent at memorization. She'd said it, though, to make it clear she was like him- if he was one. When they got to the spot the boxes belonged, she stretched her back and smiled up at the sky. "The weather's pretty nice today. I wish I could take the sunshine home with me."

A small laugh left her lips as she returned to the boxes needing to be moved. When she lifted the next one, she seemed to find it a bit easier than the first. It was the same weight, but she'd figured out just the position to carry it this time. "Manual labor is tough, but it sure is rewarding. I should do this more often! I bet with this, my swordplay will reach new heights."

 

[Harlow]

To the compliment on his posture, and the pondering of the boxes contents, Harlow would only nod. Not through lack of comment or interest, even though his bland expression might suggest such. The meager responses that he constructed of must not have been substantial enough for his translation module to produce vocalizations of thought. It was a very human curiosity though, to imagine what hid within the container. Especially when so near, and so weighty. But Harlow's inquiry was not requested. Only his physicality.

If you aren't smart, you must be strong. Harlow was not here to think. This was a simple task, that needn't be made interesting or complex.

Only to lift and move.

"This is Harlow." Introductions were simple enough. @Solaria. He made note.

He too had moved many sandbags in his day, as well as a collection of other needlessly or intentionally burdensome objects. Similar to his "real" counterpart, Harlow lacked the bulk that would be expected, remaining thin, and fueled more by determination and rigid self-image, than any dense muscular structure beneath. Some might say that was stronger, but again, Harlow was not to argue. He was not to think.

Only to lift and move.

"I am. Starcalled. Over." It wasn't the first time his strange methodologies had left others wondering whether he was simply a developer's work of fiction.

The pace of time, as well as the load of the work, seemed to pass much quicker in company, though. Harlow would've been willing to complete the assignment alone, but this was nicer. He did worry, as he was mostly vocally incapable of supporting the conversation as much as this Solaria was. Small talk was, among an assembly of things, a great weakness for Harlow. That, unlike his arm or his mind or his will, was untrainable.

"Affirmative, Solaria." He set the box down, moving to acquire another, mirroring her pace. There was no contest. "The same is true. For my own sword techniques. Strength is the root. Foundation. Over." It was far from an organic response, but he had to say something.

 

[Solaria]

Solaria gave a friendly grin in Harlow's direction while carrying one of the heavy boxes. He was a little rough around the edges, in her opinion, but that didn't matter. He was polite. That was a good start- and proof that under his artificial exterior, there was a normal person, in her mind.

"Harlow, huh? Nice to meet you." She continued to walk and to carry with long strides. For the Elf, though it was heavy, it wasn't really a bothersome task. She liked varying her exercises anyway- and it'd been a while since she'd done any weights or pure strength training. Lately, most of her training was sparring and swing practice. Variety was the spice of life- so she was happy to have run into the interesting, albeit plain, man.

When he acknowledged being a starcalled, she giggled ever so slightly. "I see, so we're the same. It's hard to tell, isn't it? The Landers seem so much like normal people... Well, I guess to them, we're the strange ones." Another small laugh, another box to carry. She wasn't making it a race, but was rather using this as a chance to work on her posture and movements.

"I see, we're both swordsmen. Do you train in the other world too? I seem to find very few actually do. I wonder if I'm weird for choosing skills that I'm just used to..."

 

[Harlow]

"Affirmative." He had gone through his own detective trials in determining player from prop. Even still, with his increased capacity for learning, he had yet to unveil a guaranteed method of discerning. This world, for better or worse, was terribly realistic in some ways. Much like reality, he'd found it better to simply treat everyone with the same respect, until given reason not to.

In terms of reference, Harlow's posture was an impeccable picture of perfection. It was to a degree that made clear the structure was not formed by comfort or confidence. Almost as though the Magia's default setting was to stand and move efficiently, for energy management. It made Emerson realize his own laziness outside the game, considering how much longer Harlow seemed to maintain his vigor. Still, after a good battle fought, he found no relief in a tactless slouch or exhausted exhale, perfectly aligned even in discomfort. Blank and unreflective of his truer thoughts.

"Affirmative. For years." He confirmed that he, like @Solaria, was a practiced wielder of the blade externally, before shaking his head. "Not odd. This. It's the best place. To train. Less risk, more challenge. More learning." If there was anything that exemplified why Harlow played, it was that. More learning. "What you learn here. Can help you there. Over."

The last three boxes that required transport were finally before them. Harlow knelt to retrieve one.

 

[Solaria]

She grinned brighter when he told her he too studied swordsmanship offline. It was so rare to meet a fellow sword lover, let alone someone that understood the beauty of this world- it was a great learning experience!

"I see! That's true... By facing challenges and making mistakes here, it's safer than doing it outside. I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks this way." Giggling a bit, she added, "Harlow is smart, just like I thought."

She picked up one more box. With him taking one, that left one that needed moving. They could decide on that later though. For now, she focused on the box in her arms while telling Harlow, "I'm training to be a nurse. I love healing people as much as I love swordsmanship... So I ended up taking on Divine Magic to heal and alchemy to make medicine like a traditional pharmacist or shaman. I want to practice anything I can here."

Putting the box where it belonged, she looked at the man curiously. "After this, want me to make us something to eat? Alchemy is a lot like cooking. Or vice versa. Even in this world, we need to eat, after all."

@Harlow

 

[Harlow]

Her compliments flattered Harlow, and if his cold, motionless cheeks could draw red, they might. But they didn't. He didn't move or react to the kindness. Like a dart with no tip, the warmth simply bounced off the wall. "Appreciated." Was the only word produced from the Magia, who carried one of the remaining three boxes. There was an urge to test himself and carry the last, but it wasn't worth the risk of damaging the goods within. Another trip would do.

Harlow listened silently as she explained her endeavors in the other world. It was a respectable road she walked, choosing not only a weapon modality she knew, but even mimicking a spirit of healing and helpfulness in their other masteries. Harlow supposed that he hadn't been as accurate in his own imitations, choosing Magitech and Hyper Sense to further enable his sword techniques.

@Solaria had chosen a healer's path, sword in hand, honoring their true self through and through. Harlow remained blinding himself to the bleeding heart beneath the shining, sharp steel. Perhaps he too had accurately chosen, creating a self-sustaining build. A baseball player who covered all the bases, but had no ball. Whether he realized it or not, he too had drawn an honest silhouette to his Earth-bound counterpart.

"Understood. Wise. Admirable." He nodded, setting the box down and moving with some level of haste to retrieve the final, not wanting to overwork the generous, voluntary aid that had made the monotony fade and the clock hands race.

"Negative." He rejected the notion of her cooking for him. "Gustatory systems inhibited. Magia. Better for you. Others. Over." As much as he was tempted by the idea of a nice meal after the work, it would be better for him to sustain on more raw, flavorless, nutrient packed foods. He'd leave the finer dining to those with the ability to properly enjoy it. But… that wasn't entirely true. As he knelt to lift the final box, physical exertion timed precisely with his thought process, perfectly enabling a vocal glitch. A word untranslated. An exception to his rule.

"Tea."

 

[Solaria]

Such a simple thing as one word held more meaning than Harlow realized, at least to Solaria. The woman found it pleasing just that he accepted her compliment. A lot of people, in trying to be humble or in self-doubt clouded minds, would just ignore or refuse her viewpoint. By appreciating it, he let her believe she had more stated a fact than a fanciful, good-natured thought. She wanted to tell him that it meant a lot to her- but she couldn't think of a way to explain it, so opted not to.

When he pointed out he was a Magia with no sense of taste, the woman could only laugh sheepishly in response. Still, didn't he have to eat anyway? She pouted a bit to herself when he wasn't looking. Did he think she planned to poison him with her cooking? Well, actually, that was a possible concern for a Magia, as she thought about it. How did they know if something had a scentless danger to it? But as she was thinking about this, he said another one-word reaction- one he probably didn't even know he'd made.

He'd requested tea.

"I'd be happy to make you some tea after this. Do you have a particular kind you like? I mostly make herbal teas here, but I did get some fresh tea leaves while at the market I can use." She shot him a cheerful smile again. Hurray, she could keep the interesting stranger company a little longer!

@Harlow