TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[greatoldjohn]

There is but you didn't actually answer my question.

So I don't want to assume.

[sixfeetofdirt]

I literally asked what's going on with you. That somewhat presupposes that a shit is given, does it not?

[greatoldjohn]

Actually, you asked if you could ask what was going on with me.

...I'm not trying to be a dick. You were upset when I assumed things. I'm trying not to do that.

[sixfeetofdirt]

You're not trying and yet you are somewhat succeeding, but very well. What's going on with you, John?

[greatoldjohn]

Well, right now, I'd like to know what you want. Because apparently I'm a dick if I assume things and I'm a dick if I listen to exactly what you say. And if that's another 'just have to wait until you're ready' thing, that's fine, I can do that, but if I'm supposed to be learning how I should listen to you, I'm going to need a little help.

[ Huff. ]

What I was calling you to mention is that I was able to talk Arthur down from just marching down there to talk to him like a fucking idiot and part of that is that Arthur is now invisible to Collins, so he can't 'watch' Arthur's pain from doing this shit, unless Arthur contacts him.

I tried to talk to Collins and he dismissed me out of hand and then used Latin, apparently, to say some stupid shit that doesn't even apply to me so I don't think he's going to use you for anything, but I thought you should know. It's not a big chance that you'll get pulled into anything but... I didn't want you to be in the dark.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.

...in this specific instance, I suppose that all I want is for you to be aware that asking for permission to ask is functionally the same as asking? Especially when it's with regard to information you've already offered me?

[greatoldjohn]

Okay.

I'll keep it in mind.

...and sorry if I'm grumpy. I'm just... feeling a little useless right now and it always sets me off balance.

[sixfeetofdirt]

It's alright. I can deal with 'grumpy'.

[greatoldjohn]

Thank you. I do appreciate it.

You need anything?

[sixfeetofdirt]

...Given the recent frequency of murder around here, I wouldn't mind revisiting my access to magic.

[greatoldjohn]

I don't see any reason you shouldn't have your full capabilities.

I'll ask for that today.

Anything else?

[sixfeetofdirt]

No, nothing else.

...Thank you, John.

[greatoldjohn]

Any time.

I expect it'll come through sometime today.

[ A pause. ]

...can I see some of it sometime? Magic in your world seems very different from what I know.

[sixfeetofdirt]

I'd be happy to demonstrate, darling. Let me know when the Admiral gets back to you - we could use the Enclosure.

[greatoldjohn]

I will!

[ He sounds excited, really. ]

Thanks.

[greatoldjohn]

You should be good to go. I just got the go-ahead.

Everything working?

[sixfeetofdirt]

Let me -

[There's a quiet but audible sound of electrical crackling.]

Ha. Yes, that's much better.

[greatoldjohn]

Good!

No rush on showing off. Unless you want to show off.

[sixfeetofdirt]

I would love to show off, darling. The Enclosure this evening?

[greatoldjohn]

Yes! I'll meet you there after dinner.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Perfect.

[He adds nothing more over the network, but he'll be waiting for John's arrival later on.]

[greatoldjohn]

[ John will be there right after, since most of his work is done before dinner, and he'll look to the console before turning to Astarion. ]

Did you get it all set up?

[sixfeetofdirt]

He frowns thoughtfully at the console.

"No? I've only watched someone else do this, do I just...tell it what I want? I'm not sure how much precision it allows for."

[greatoldjohn]

"Right. Just tell it what you want, as exactly as you can. It can't make people but it can make places just fine. I've used it before."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Places. Well, he resisted the urge when Jedao gave him the opportunity to spend some time alone here, but - it's not as if he's actually feeling homesick. Maybe John will consider this a show of confidence.

"Baldur's Gate," he tells the device at the door. "The lower city."

The door opens into Bloomridge Park.

The space is as much statuary and paving as it is greenery and planting; the trees are mature and their trunks encased in vines, the grass dotted with patches of little purple flowers. There's a fountain. It's scenic.

To the south is the scattering of houses, shops and taverns spilling downhill towards the harbour; to the north is the gothic rear facade of Szarr Palace, one of the many grand homes encircling the upper city.

Astarion doesn't look up at it. Instead, he steps out into the sunshine, spreading his arms.

"Welcome to my hometown, darling! Just - imagine that it's much busier and smells a little worse."