the_isle | You're From The Isle If Anybody Asks

You're From The Isle If Anybody Asks

First Awareness

Those used to this by now probably knew what it meant when they felt their magic return for a moment. For the rest, suddenly their powers were back. Just for a few minutes, but a lot could be done in a few minutes. If the person even noticed their powers were back, that is.

Of course those on the shore might have seen the hazy indistinct shape through the barrier coming closer, might have seen the moment the hole in the barrier opened. Might have seen King Ben leading people down a gangplank through the barrier with crates of supplies....

Unions, Re And Otherwise

Once the supplies were unloaded, the barrier was sealed up again. King Ben seemed to be in charge during the unloading, Once the barrier was closed again, by the green magic streaming from the Queen's finger, it was Mal who seemed to be in charge.

"Alright, listen up. We have 2 hours and the clock is ticking. I'm not FG but we're keeping to a deadline anyway. If you want to come to Auradon or know someone you want us to bring back, you have 2 hours to convince us. You and everyone else, sharing the same 2 hours. Along with anyone who has a supply request for our next visit, or updates. Those of you bringing supplies to the school, time to get cracking. Two hours passes faster than midnight at the ball."

Those Who Left

(Please TL Here for boat and Auradon Shenanigans. TY)

Those What Remain

Once those going back to Auradon had left and the barrier was back in place, it was for those who remained on the Isle to sort the supplies and figure out how to get done everything that needed to be done with the people that remained.

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"It isn't really hazardous, I know what I did wrong last time and how to do it right. Grey has even seen that."

"And it will still not be occurring," he said. "So unless you intend to wrest a knife from me by force- which I frankly doubt that you could in your current state-, I suggest you let go of the idea."

And with that, he proceeded to change the subject, indicating even more firmly that no argument would convince him. "Knowledgeable as you are of plants however, I believe you're the correct person to give these to." He pulled two small pouches of seeds from a larger pouch on his belt. "Lavender and Windlight seeds. They were in my inventory, which I had the presence of mind to dump out at the end of the previous visit from the mainland, intending to sort the contents later, but they're little to no use to us here. Particularly the Windlight; I'm not certain they could even grow properly in an environment without magic."

Cassidy held her hands out for them, noticing the side step but letting it go for now. "Lavender I am familiar with, but I do not know Windlight. Can you teach us?"

"I--" He was rethinking it, anyway, rays once again moving in and out in a subtle loading-circle sort of pattern, until he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I should get back to looking. I haven't seen anything that looks anything like a... a battery sandwich or that solder gun pen thing you were mentioning yet. Not really." He made a sound that was suspiciously sigh-like. "I'm sorry. I don't really know anything about any of this. If... if you'd asked for help making puppets, maybe? Or-- or maybe little noisemakers you can shake, that stuff, I can find parts for, easy! But...." He sank a little further, looking down again, seemingly at the broken appliances he'd pulled out and set on the floor, his rays mostly hidden. "But I don't-- I mean...."

Ian shrugged a bit, turning to face Sun while leaning back. "We all have different skill sets, just because I don't need puppets now doesn't mean there might not be a time when puppets are the only things that will save our lives. Weirder things have happened."

He nodded, handing them over. "Windlight is among a special class of plants," he said. "While all plants draw on their environment to grow and thrive, Windlight and similar plants are particularly adept at channeling aether, which they then convert to a particular elemental alignment. As the name implies, Windlight converts the aether it takes in to be Wind aspected."

"This aether is, to some degree, in all parts of the plant, and thus do the leaves sometimes find use in medicinal teas and the like. There was an old woman I knew as a child who swore by a tea containing dried Firelight leaves to get her through the colder moons of the year, for example. But their true value is shown when they are allowed to reach maturity and to blossom, for their buds open to reveal not flowers, but crystals; concentrated shards of magical energy aspected to their own particular element that are useful for any number of things."

"Provided, of course that they are grown in an environment where there is sufficient aether to be had. And tended by one who has sufficient knowledge of botany to see to their needs; they are a plant that tends to need careful cultivation, and while they can grow wild in places that already possess high concentrations of aether in their particular element, they seldom thrive there. Hence why I expect that they will be in good hands with you."

Edited 2025-05-18 18:57 (UTC)

The loading-circle thing he was doing with his rays slowed nearly to a pause briefly, as Sun looked back up more again, toward Ian, but as he seemed unable to reply right away, it picked back up, subtle though it was. "I...."

What could he say to that? He looked back down at the broken appliances on the floor, sinking lower as he did, more as an extension of him looking down, it seemed, than anything -- standing at more of a distance now, it was more obvious how odd his stance was. Legs a bit apart, crouching to negate about two feet of his height, elbows away from his sides, even as he'd turned his hands subtly toward one another, holding them up somewhat in front of him....

It was hard to say he hadn't been designed to resemble a marionette, down to his body language. The way he didn't turn just his head when he looked around, the way his everything seemed to move a little at once, subtly bobbing as he took a step or straightened up or sank down....

Quiet, "I'm not so sure anything I'm actually good at is going to help here," he said, not looking back up yet, rays giving up on doing their loading-circle animation in favor of simply sinking into his head a little, hiding the reddest hues of their orange bases. "If you want to tell me what to do, I can follow directions? I know how to plug things together.... I'm sure I can figure out how to put together computer things! ...I wasn't allowed to touch the computers at the Daycare's desk -- those were for staff only -- but I've put the board of control things back together, in my room, after it fell down.... I even rearranged it to add another charger so the staff couldn't find it!" It was hard to tell if that last part was sheepish, or proud. Both, somehow, maybe? "...If you want me to help in here, I can... but... I don't actually know what I'm supposed to be doing. What I'm supposed to be looking for...."

She took the seeds and frowned after a moment then sighed. "Do I even have pock... ah." she found a pocket and slipped them carefully inside. And listened.

"We're both generally good with plants, but I have never heard of aether... so I am not sure how to provide it. I also admit I am uncertain what you mean by magical elements...."

"I thought you were staff there?" Ian asked, confused. "But I'll tell you what. There was a while back home where one of my closest friends felt at loose ends like you when she had to take a break from one of her main tasks to give other people a turn. Bothered her too. I was too swamped to help her. Magic did that. But I'm less swamped here. If there are things you don't know how to do, maybe I can teach you some of them?"

"You might know it as either 'magic' or 'life energy'," he said regarding aether. "And so long as the environment outside of the Isle has sufficient of it to draw on, you shouldn't need to provide any extra to the plants. They will require careful tending and attention to get the best result however; they do not thrive in the wild because much of their energy must be put toward simple survival. In a well tended garden, protected from harsh weather, given water and fertilizer as needed, and kept clear of weeds they are free to concentrate more aether into their buds."

"As for the elements, I'm perhaps not the best one to explain such things, as I'm neither a mage nor a scholar, but I will do my best. There are six elements magic can take on: Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Ice, and Lightning. And likewise each has two possible polarities: Astral and Umbral. Astral polarity is characterized by activity, growth, excitement, and chaos, while something of an Umbral polarity is characterized by the opposite: passivity, stasis, stoicism, and stability."

"These aspects and polarities exist all across the natural world and in every living thing. In living things and people they tend toward an equilibrium, but in certain plants, creatures, or places, one or another holds sway. The Windlight is one example of this; it is naturally aspected to Wind and leans slightly to the Astral polarity, which allows it to grow as it does."

Sun's rays pulled back in a bit more again for a moment at that first question, but he didn't volunteer an explanation, just sank another few inches. Maybe he wasn't considered staff, somehow, despite working there? He hadn't expected to be called out on his phrasing there, at any rate, that much was clear enough....

"You... would?" He seemed to perk up a little again at that, though rather than standing back up straighter, he actually sank just slightly lower -- so that he could look up to Ian without changing his eye-height any, keeping his crouched stance such that Ian would be looking down subtly to see him. "There's... still a lot I don't know how to do, though. I-- I was made for taking care of little kids, not--" He glanced to the bin of junk he'd collected. "...Where should I even start?"

"This is fascinating," Grey said. "And we've never heard anything like it. Do you have any books that we can study on the topic?"

"Well... we can start at the beginning, alright? Basic programing. Hardware is easier to understand once you know it is supposed to work."

"Oh... okay...? I-- uh... What did you have in mind?"

Ian considered. "Given we don't have logo writer here or Room 25.... Ah! Okay, we'll need paper, pens, and index cards. Think you can find those?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'll be right back!" He turned and ducked back out the door, bells jingling as he hurried away, back to the room he'd stashed the things in. It only took him a minute or two, and then he was coming back, cradling a folder that was mostly intact. He'd gathered... well, it wasn't actually index cards and full pieces of paper, but it was probably about as good a substitute as this place probably had.

"Here! Will this work?" He carefully offered it over.

"We can make it work. Okay. So to start, let's start by making about a dozen cards that each have a uni-directional arrow on them. Well, actually you do that if you would, and if you can give me paper and a pen, I'll try to set the other part up."

"All right... but if it's just arrows, do they each need a whole card? I can put arrows on little pieces, too, right?"

He looked around, then set the folder down on part of a desk. Out came the pencils, and he offered one and the bigger pieces of paper to Ian.

"So long as the pieces are all the same sized and you can keep track of them," Ian said taking the supplies.

"Yeah, easy!"

He actually went for one of the smaller bits of paper first. Picked up the other pencil... and not long after at all, he was folding the paper to tear it carefully against the edge of the desk there, having made a good handful of postage-stamp-sized arrows, all drawn neatly, all rather uniform....

Ian was also folding the paper but didn't rip, drawing something on each level of a fan fold.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Most never have, or ever do." A glance back at the people gathering to leave -- Mallia glanced back and gave a little wave, and he raised a hand briefly to her in return, and then took a breath and looked back to Foulques, waiting.

Any time now... Aaaaany time....

When they did open the barrier to leave again... it was a bit less dramatic than one might have been expecting. If Foulques hadn't been anticipating it, he might've even missed it at first -- a sense of Chell's presence there near him, on much the same sort of level of awareness that sometimes smaller clues could have amounted to, even without having consciously noted him standing there.

But what, exactly, came across might or might not have been any surprise whatsoever: while Chell's attention was turned toward Foulques, he wasn't pushing at all... more that it seemed his attention was... waiting? And he was about as calm as ever... discounting, at least, that bit of what seemed a mix of hope and mild excitement -- anticipation? It was enough to know he was looking forward to whatever the lancer might decide to try showing him, at any rate.

And if said lancer tried it... he might find that Chell's abilities worked both ways. While Chell's attention was on this particular task, if Foulques wanted to try getting a better look at him, in a sense... he very well could.

Truth be told, Foulques wasn't sure what he'd expected, only that the actual sensation of Chell touching his mind wasn't anything like it. Indeed, the first thing Chell might pick up was Foulques trying to figure out how to classify it. The heaviness in the air before a rainstorm? No, that was a bit too ominous. The lingering scent of perfume or food that had been in the room but was now several bells gone? No, this was more present. An animal waiting for a treat from its master? Unflattering, perhaps, but closer...

Then that was abruptly shoved aside as he recalled that their time was limited, as he chided himself for wasting time. This was followed by a sensation rather like the pages of a book being rapidly flipped through, or a collection of disorganized papers shuffled about as Foulques searched his memory for relevant plant tastes, textures, and appearances. Herbs like marjoram, highland parsley and oregano, Galago mint, chamomile, chives, mugwort, thyme, midland basil, and desert saffron. Spices like dragon peppers, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, and black pepper. Vegetables like Garlean garlic, jade peas, laurel, ramhorn zucchini, paprika, salt leeks, wild onions, millioncorn, Cieldalaes spinach, cinderfoot olives, wizard eggplants, and Coerthan carrots. Fruits like sun lemons, bloodcurrants, faerie and mirror apples, alligator pears, kukuru beans, La Noscean oranges, lowland grapes, ogre pumpkins, pixie plums, rolanberries, and ruby tomatoes.

Lastly, various kinds of nuts, beans, grains, and lentils, with particular attention being paid to mun-tuy beans, both the beans themselves and the products that could be made from them. A pleasantly nutty-tasting sort of drink rather like milk, called mun-tuy milk or just mun-tuy. Mun-tuy sauce, however, was quite different and was made by fermenting the beans with salt and other ingredients, producing a salty, brownish liquid that was a popular condiment in the Twelveswood. And in sufficient quantity, the beans themselves could be dried and ground into flour or meal and used to make bread, though he noted that the last use was only common among Duskwights.

All this was hurriedly shoved in Chell's direction. Not exactly roughly, but with an urgency that was a rather sharp contrast to Chell's patient anticipation.

And Foulques could feel the subtle change in Chell's mood as he mulled it over at first -- just a small hint of fond amusement. It was hardly judgmental... he didn't quite reply to him, but for what felt like a subtle confirmation: yes, he was here; they were here; he saw him. Felt him? He'd been right: words so often were inadequate, and this was bypassing all of that. A quiet yes, at any rate. Perhaps of interest for the lancer for later, would be the complete lack of objection about that latter comparison -- but also what seemed to be a slightly different understanding of it. What it was, though, exactly, he might have to ask later.

The rush of ideas about plants seemed to surprise Chell a bit, but he quickly fell into trying to focus as it was presented to him. He'd been expecting perhaps one or two, or maybe even three or four -- but this was something else. He was impressed, though -- it was new, it was interesting! -- and there was so much of it!

By the time Foulques had paused, he might be able to note something else... that for all that Chell maintained he'd been of a people not much unlike most others, there was something else present, some sort of... other...? A discipline, a practice, a pattern that felt not quite like what he might be used to thinking of as, well, what thought patterns and memory were ordinarily like, at least for him. This was something methodical, something organized... something reflexive... alien, almost? The echo of the ents Chell was so used to, enough so that he was falling into their patterns to keep up, grabbing hold of what he could of each of those ideas presented to him, trying to categorize and sort them--

And there was something else, some idle, distracted part of Chell's attention that was rather plainly -- in deliberately obvious sight, it seemed, struggling to call up a memory, but needing help with it: something faded and secondhand, mostly-forgotten, a memory so old it seemed to come from many lifetimes previous... how old was he? Or perhaps, how old were some of the notions, like this one, that he was carrying? ...of somewhat-similar produce from people he could barely remember. This one was something like small nuts at the end of stalks of grass, which was then crushed...? No, that wasn't quite right, but some part of a thread of what he'd just been shown was tugging at it. Perhaps it was that last one, the notion of being ground fine and made into something softer, the bread... had it been bread? Or a cooked cereal, perhaps...? He wasn't sure; if he'd ever known, it was so long ago....

The methodical nature of Chell's thoughts brought to mind the visions he'd seen from Sun and Moon's perspective. It was hardly identical, of course, but something about the methodical nature of it, each thought a distinct piece of information laid out neatly like... well like a tree's growth rings struck him as more similar to the information that had scrolled by from the mammet's point of view. As opposed to his own thoughts, which were much more disorganized, flowing from one to the next almost unbidden, which was partly how he'd pulled so much memory of edible flora together so quickly.

As he examined the faint and faded memory of Chell's- from how log ago, there was no way to tell, but far longer than what he would consider a normal lifetime-, it brought back memories of his own, not nearly so distant as Chell's but still faint and faded with time. The enticing and faintly nutty smell of baking bread filling the kitchen of a little stone cottage as a tall, slim woman stirred a pot on the nearby stove. Her skin and hair were the same colors as his, though her hair was significantly longer and sleeker, woven into a single braid that reached to the middle of her back. My mother, Capucine, he instantly identified her.

More memories of her followed, all warm and affectionate, but tinged with sorrow. Her looking up from working in her little garden outside the cottage, dappled sunlight dancing over her as her face broke into a bright smile that lit up her gold eyes. Her working at the cottage's kitchen table laden with various dried herbs and fruits, glancing at a recipe book before adding a few herbs to a mortar for grinding. Her kneeling in prayer before a delicately carved wooden figurine of a beautiful woman. The goddess Nophica, The Matron, another instant identification.

His mother had been very devout, he recalled, her faith giving her joy in the good times, comfort in the bad ones. He wondered if she'd turned to the Matron as Dalamud had burned red in the sky, growing larger and more baleful by the day? A brief image of a sky with two moons, one much like the one Chell would know, and the other smaller, but glowing an ominous red... And before he can turn from it, the fleeting image of a dragon. No, not a dragon, but an avatar of pure rage in the form of one. Enormous and black, raining fire and death. Bahamut. The Dreadwyrm. The Twelveswood left burning in its wake, and in the wake of the fire...

A pile of charred rubble where once had stood a little stone cottage. A few pieces still smoldering. The air acrid with the smell of burning, of charred wood and stone and flesh... And heavy with loss and despair.

A wince that Chell would both see and feel as Foulques ruthlessly shoved the memory away. "Apologies," he said aloud. "I hadn't meant for my mind to stray to thoughts of the Calamity, but I doubt any who lived in Eorzea then could truly separate the memory of their loved ones from how they were lost."

Edited 2025-05-29 21:42 (UTC)

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You're From The Isle If Anybody Asks

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