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Entry tags:
Digital Domestic Saga continues
Who: Argilla and you
When: Sometime during the day
Where: Near the Plaza, though she's wandered away from it a bit
Style: Whichever, but starting in brackets.
Status: Open!
["Welcome to Vatheon. Welcome to Vatheon! Welcome, to Vatheon—"
The name of this place is about the only thing Argilla's been able to get so far, since she woke up here. That, and a towel, although she isn't necessarily sure what she should do with it until she sees the other newcomers using them. Being wet doesn't really bother her, after all, nor the torn and charred clothing—just as long as the dash of orange is still visible on her skirt, which it definitely is. Even the pain she'd initially felt is slowly subsiding, which she's been told is something she can thank the Coral for after she touched it. That large structure at the center of the city...
But other things hold her interest at the moment—like where this place is and how she got here, so she's slowly exploring. She at least hopes this means they were successful, her and Roland; but she accepts that it's probably unlikely she'd ever find out now.
She'd made her decision. And now...somehow she's living with it.]
Hmm? What is this?
It's...cold.
[It's just about then that she passes by what appears to be an ice cream shop, where a local stops her to offer her a free cone of ice cream. Apparently, Argilla's hair made him think of it—it's perfect for her! Because the first thing you do when seeing a person wet from head to toe (and still trying to dry off) is to offer them ice cream—
Ah. Regardless though, she takes it with a tilt of her head. She's supposed to eat it, she assumes, but it almost feels like it's going to fall off if she moves or touches it the wrong way. Besides, is it...looking at her?
...
The local goes on to explain something or other about the shape of the ice cream, about how it was specially made in the spirit of the Fisholympics which just took place-- but she's really looking for an excuse to leave and explore more.
Come to her rescue?
...Or don't. Whatever. She'll quietly leave eventually—]
When: Sometime during the day
Where: Near the Plaza, though she's wandered away from it a bit
Style: Whichever, but starting in brackets.
Status: Open!
["Welcome to Vatheon. Welcome to Vatheon! Welcome, to Vatheon—"
The name of this place is about the only thing Argilla's been able to get so far, since she woke up here. That, and a towel, although she isn't necessarily sure what she should do with it until she sees the other newcomers using them. Being wet doesn't really bother her, after all, nor the torn and charred clothing—just as long as the dash of orange is still visible on her skirt, which it definitely is. Even the pain she'd initially felt is slowly subsiding, which she's been told is something she can thank the Coral for after she touched it. That large structure at the center of the city...
But other things hold her interest at the moment—like where this place is and how she got here, so she's slowly exploring. She at least hopes this means they were successful, her and Roland; but she accepts that it's probably unlikely she'd ever find out now.
She'd made her decision. And now...somehow she's living with it.]
Hmm? What is this?
It's...cold.
[It's just about then that she passes by what appears to be an ice cream shop, where a local stops her to offer her a free cone of ice cream. Apparently, Argilla's hair made him think of it—it's perfect for her! Because the first thing you do when seeing a person wet from head to toe (and still trying to dry off) is to offer them ice cream—
Ah. Regardless though, she takes it with a tilt of her head. She's supposed to eat it, she assumes, but it almost feels like it's going to fall off if she moves or touches it the wrong way. Besides, is it...looking at her?
...
The local goes on to explain something or other about the shape of the ice cream, about how it was specially made in the spirit of the Fisholympics which just took place-- but she's really looking for an excuse to leave and explore more.
Come to her rescue?
...Or don't. Whatever. She'll quietly leave eventually—]