Private ✪ Finweald To Dye For

[Harlow]

Harlow's cold fingertips pinched, tearing the paper down from the wall. He carried it with him as he exited the building, passing silently by would-be adventurers gathering for the usual expeditions. He had experienced his fill of quests hunting for wolf fangs and bear pelt, temporarily uninterested by such thrills. A change of pace would do nicely, and this job presented one such an opportunity.

A request to retrieve flowers was far less fatigue inducing than collection of tooth and claw. It also gave him a chance to tread smooth roads instead of roaming the forests, a seldom seen pleasantry to his bare feet. He found that time seemed to fly by, somehow unbound by the monotony of simply walking and admiring the atmosphere.

Before long, he found his destination, a dense pasture of unplucked floret. Drawing his sword, Harlow carefully began separating stem from root. Knelt in the field, he took a moment to bathe the tapestry before him. A meadow of multicolored flowers, the delicate aroma pervading his dull olfactory capacity. Petals were sent asunder as a brisk breeze swept them up.

Harlow's eyes widened.

---

Some time later, he was walking back through the gates of Finweald, a gathering of many multicolored flowers in one hand, a small sack dangling from the other. He walked silent through the city streets. He shut his eyes for a moment, flashing his memories back to the paper he had stolen from the wall, reminding himself of the delivery location. Artist, alchemist, or simple desperate admirer, Harlow cared not for who had set the bounty. As his eyes reopened, enlightened to his next destination, he set out for the meeting place.

"Radio Check." Harlow adjusted his volume before approaching the crimson haired individual, amidst whatever it was they were doing. "This is Harlow. Sol, affirmative? Over." He presented the flowers, in one hand, his face and tone unyieldingly static, only raising slightly to indicate a question. "I completed the request. Over." He seemed completely ignorant to the fact that, as it appeared from the outside, he was simply presenting a bouquet to someone. There was a vibrant array of colors, evidence of a discerning eye. The cold delivery of his words seemed to contradict that which typically accompanied the warm delivery of flowers.

After all, this was a business arrangement.

@Sol

 

[Sol]

☀˚̣⋅ .

After the scene at Dunnstads, Sol had decided to look into the painting community in TerraSphere. It was definitely a community, albeit small, but she had come to understand that there were colours and effects in this world that just weren't achievable in real life. Video games, right? And so she set to work with collecting her ingredients for said colours. It was along the way she decided that she might need help and posted a small posting with the Adventurer's Guild to collect some flowers for her, offering a small gold reward as payment.

Soon enough, she had gotten a message. It was from an odd speaking man who had typed quite different from what you would assume the usual, but nonetheless he was willing to get them for her and she had no reason to not accept. And thus, she found herself in Finweald, standing under a tree in the middle of the plaza. Beside her was a rather large empty wall space that she seemed to be studying as if trying to understand why it was empty, purple gaze flickering back and forth along the stone bricks before coming to a halt. Slowly, she turned to the person approaching her, raising an eyebrow, Ah, this must be him.

Ah, yes. The way he spoke and the way he expressed himself was definitely very different from most, but there was something artistic about the way that he spoke. She nodded at his question, pushing away from the tree and crossing over to him. She carefully takes the bouquet into her hands, using her fingers to count all of them before bringing them up to her face and giving them a small whiff, closing her eyes as she does so. Letting out a soft sigh, she opens her eyes once more and nods at him, "They're perfect, you were very quick with them."

She compliments him before moving on, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a small gold purse that she prepared previously. She puts some more gold coins into her purse as a tip before handing it over to him. Anyone who was watching and might think of this as a display of affection would be suddenly disappointed to find she was paying him for his services, "Here's you're payment." Nothing else much to say.

 

[Harlow]

Harlow's head lowered slightly, a motion that could be explained as the start of a nod, or simply an unintentional movement, though few things Harlow did seemed at all unintentional. Sol seemed pleased with his hasty acquisition. His gaze stuck elsewhere, flicking from place to place, as the red haired quest giver closed their own optics and flavored the floral aromas.

"Negative." Harlow interrupted as she finished retrieving a container of coin and presenting him with ample payment. "I enjoyed the walk. It was a simple task. Over." Instead of reaching to retrieve his rightful prize, the Magia responded by presenting the bag that hung from his other fist.

"If it is of use. There is this as well." He held open the bag with both hands. The small cloth sack was insubstantial enough, and did not look to be worth much money at all, but that was the exciting thing about containers. How thrilling to imagine what they contained!

---

Harlow's eyes widened.

Back at the field, a minor whirlwind had picked up, as the wind ripped vibrant petals from harmless bud. It was something not at all dangerous to a person, but to flowers, this could be deadly.

His heart increased in tempo. He came to his feet, an overwhelming sensation overtaking his actions. His fingers twitched momentarily as he clutched his already picked flowers to his chest, before tucking it into his cloak for safe-keeping. Almost to the point of dizzying himself, Harlow began slowly stepping backwards in a circle, various reticles flashing through his vision and targeting the thousands of petals that were now airborne, swirling around him.

Harlow knew not the intention for the flowers, and his task had not been to question, simply retrieve. Still, seeing the gale of petals, he worried that it was specifically the petals this client was after, and perhaps not necessarily the flowers themselves. He would have to collect a fair sum of the petals as well, just to be sure. For the following minutes, those who passed the meadow saw a peculiar Magia doing small hops and clasping his hands together to catch the airborne petals, before carefully delivering them into the safety of a small sack.

---

"This is Harlow. Over." He spoke, still holding out the bag of mostly unsquashed contents. Having forgotten to introduce himself earlier, he felt a bit foolish.

 

[Sol]

☀˚̣⋅ .

Raising an eyebrow at him as he declined her payment, Sol tucked the coin purse back into her pocket and shrugged a little, "If you're sure... Then suit yourself." He must just like doing this for fun, or maybe it gave him a feeling of self satisfaction? Whatever it was, she wasn't complaining to have the job done for completely free. She could probably use the money towards finding something else for painting, or maybe buying something nice to eat for dinner-

It was then that he held out another bag, and her eyebrow raised once more in a more inquisitive fashion as she tucked away the flowers into her inventory and took it from him. Opening it up, she discovered that there was a bunch of extra flower petals separated from their home inside the bag. A lot of them were squashed and weren't in the best condition, however there were a lot that she could choose and use for her painting. The petals were what she was using, anyways. She would have these for a very long time.

"I almost want to not ask how these got like this, but I can't help but wonder. You didn't pluck them individually, did you?" Looking up at him with a slightly amused expression on her face, corner of her lips pulled up slightly into a small smirk, a bunch of scenarios ran through her brain of what maybe could have gone wrong for the odd speaking man. Or maybe he had just gotten bored and plucked a bunch... He loves me, he loves me not? Sometimes you got to find a way to make a job fun, and she wasn't one to judge that.

 

[Harlow]

A new wave of arrivals came into the plaza. It was as if a light somewhere had suddenly turned green, floodgates opening to a swath of fresh purses, dying to be emptied into the various market stalls and businesses that surrounded. Humanoids of all shapes and sizes began to trot into the area, flooding it with new life and loud voices.

"Negative." Harlow responded to the notion that he had plucked them by hand. "The wind. I reached. Over." He explained, raising an open hand beside himself, as if to wave, before closing his fingers together, giving a visual indication of how he had obtained them. If he'd any magical competence, the display would've been considerably more theatrical, but all he could muster was a bland, albeit informational example of one of humankind's most useful and impressive moves. After all, many of the human race's most popular games were centered around the very concept! A truly mindboggling and astonishing ability, what could one even call it?

Catch.

Just then, one of the arrivals brushed past Harlow. Then another. His position was much less advantageous than hers, standing in what could now be determined as a danger zone. Foot traffic had him in the crosshairs, and these two harsh bumps would not be the last, as a shoulder struck his own, knocking him back slightly. Surprised at the impact, Harlow glanced back toward the stranger.

His face remained unmoving, but beneath his breath came a curse, before a sharp riposte, like a hiss through grit teeth. "Excuse you…" Just then, his eyes went wide, and he turned back toward @Sol. He was shocked. Had something in the bump on his shoulder somehow discombobulated his settings and allowed him to speak clearly?! No way…

Harlow couldn't contain his excitement, which didn't show one bit. He had so much to say now that he was free from the curse binding his words. Did you just hear that? I think I really just said that, whoa! My bad for the foul language, but that was cool. Sorry for the radio stuff, I know it's weird, I'm Harlow.

"Apologies. I misspoke. Over." A short lived glitch. His eyes lulled back to their normal state, and his head hung momentarily, disappointed. Even so, he didn't move out of the way, but the flow of people began to adjust slightly to his stubbornness, and no following impact was as aggressive.

Another reach. Another slip. Another fall.

 

[Sol]

☀˚̣⋅ .

Sol was a little more confused at this point, tilting her head at him as her eyebrow arched even further up her forehead, watching his little example of what he had been doing before a small 'Pfft' escaped her lips, stifling a laugh that rose up out of her chest. She shook her head as if to shake off the amusement, giving him a small smile at his display, "Very... Interesting. I'm not entirely sure why that happened, but thank you." She wouldn't ask him much more on the subject, but she wasn't upset by his funny little gesture.

It was then that things got a little busy, and Sol watched as the smaller man was suddenly getting tossed around in the crowd. She reached out a hand a little bit towards him, before stepping back a little to make space for him, "Uhh... You want to just step over here? You don't have to stand-" She was cut off when he suddenly spoke quite normally for his person, and by his expression he seemed to have realized it to. Her lips sealed shut as she watched him, and then he suddenly returned back to his normal state. Did he look... Disappointerd?

A scratch on the back of her head, she glanced around awkwardly, not entirely sure how to deal with the situation, "Hey, you know that you're not required to speak like that, right? RP isn't real, and this is a video game. So, if it makes you uncomfortable, then just..." she paused for a moment as she tried to find the right word to continue her sentence, before sighing deeply and looking at him evenly in the eyes, "Stop, no one is going to blame you."

She could come across as harsh to some, but in all honestly, Sol was just doing her best. Blunt and straight to the point, not everyone liked the way she spoke, but she found herself feeling the most like her person when she was being truthful to those around her. There was no bullshit, no faking, no pretend. She was all real.

She tilted her chin towards the more open area she was standing, gesturing for him to move, "Lets not stand there anymore." she told him, almost feeling more like a mother cat hearding a small kitten in that moment.

 

[Harlow]

Harlow shook his head, breathing patterns indicating a sigh, but his expression reflected what it usually did; nothing. He figured it wasn't worth the effort to try and speak, but if he didn't conjure up something in his brain, then no words would come out, and that was worse than the auto-translated nonsense that usually escaped him.

But it is required. It sure as hell makes me uncomfortable, but I don't really have a choice. I'm trying to talk normal right now, but… You probably can't tell because of this stupid racial trait.

"Negative. Involuntary. Function over form. Over."

It was an ironic flipping of circumstances. In the real world, Emerson was rather bland, focused, robotic. He spoke in short statements, efficiently to convey information. Here, with the opportunity to automatically do just that, he found it lacking. Isolating. If only there was someone who could just read his mind, understand his thoughts, and skip this middle step.

Regardless, he silently agreed to follow @Sol out of the line of fire, and into the safer area. Turning his eyes back, he scanned the crowd, finding the specific person he had bumped. Maybe there was something special about them? No, it didn't seem like that was it. His eyes scoured the crowd for someone to shoulder-check, before turning back to Sol. This was strange. Why would he assume it would just work a second time? He'd been struck before and that glitch hadn't occurred.

"Apologies." The message was far longer. Embarrassed. But that was the final result. In this world, he wasn't suited to speak, communicate, or make friends. Perhaps it was best he stuck to picking flowers and solving tasks. Practical, if empty. Just like Emerson.

 

[Sol]

☀˚̣⋅ .

Involuntary?… Sol tilted her head to the other side again in even more confusion as she studied the man. Did he just say he wasn’t making the choice to speak the way that he was? But that… Didn’t make any sense. This was just a video game, so why was something making choices for him that he couldn’t control? There was things in video games that did give you ways to act, at least… But not being able to break out of it even for a moment seemed annoying and hard.

Reaching up with her hand, Sol gave him a pat on the back. It seemed kind of like an awkward gesture, but for her it was her way of comforting him in this weird situation they were in at the moment. Besides what was she going to do, give him a hug? Psh. “It’s fine, I’m not bothered,” Her eyes wavered on the crowd for a second as she seemed to be thinking, before looking back at Harlow, the clocks turning in the back of her brain.

“I could like, beat you up if you want. I’m not really one to go straight to violence, but sometimes a good smack in the head can knock your senses back to normal,” She was completely serious, eyeing up Harlow with an even expression as she placed a hand on her hip one more, turning her weight onto her left leg, “We can call it payment for the little job you did me.” An odd source of payment, but again, if it worked for him then Sol really wasn’t one to judge.

(Short post sorry, am on my phone!)

 

[Harlow]

The pat on the back wouldn't manage to free him form his vocabularic restriction like the stranger's shoulder check. It was a minor comfort, but Harlow didn't respond. He didn't move much at all, unless it was to look around. His posture, inhumanly impeccable, stiff and unflinching, apart from that aforementioned error. There was, however, one mannerism that managed to penetrate the superficial barricades that kept him from proper expression.

It could be seen in the bouncing of his shoulders as she offered to beat him up. Slight, and as they rose and fell not even an inch each round, an indication of his laughter. He wasn't laughing because he figured she couldn't, only chuckling silently in surprise. Strangely, it wasn't the first time in his life he had received that exact offer. Any of his fellow dojo-goers knew that it was part of the program to occasionally receive impact. Many, himself included, felt some level of glory in it, odd as that might seem. To be worthy of being struck.

He knew nothing of the abilities, magical or otherwise, of the subject before him. He supposed there had to be something mystical about her, otherwise she'd have a more ordinary hair color, but that was never a reasonable evidence to base an assumption on. Especially in a game that allowed character customization. Harlow wasted no time admiring the strands which carried not quite the intense heat one might feel in apricot hues, but dripped down from atop her head, bright, lively strands, like streaks of warm blood.

His shoulders continued to bounce lightly, more subtly than before, as he reached a hand up behind his opposite shoulder. The fingers trailed along his shoulder blade, landing on a ridge, before clicking inward. A short, sharp hiss exhaled from his joints, before a laxness came to his frame, shoulders falling slightly. Overall, he seemed considerably more human in this state, with the pain limiter toggled off. Payment in pain. What a peculiar token to trade! And even more peculiar, he accepted.

"Affirmative. Proceed. Over." He assumed she wouldn't simply murder him in broad daylight, but only time would tell. Striking him, however, wouldn't be the most comfortable when done by hand. Beneath the shallow layer of synthetic flesh was a stiff chassis, as if there were a stern skeleton of armor hidden beneath the skin.