genessia | Out and About in Fayren

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Out and About in Fayren

Who: 47 and OPEN
What: Before, during, and after some independent training in Fayren
Where: Fayren
When: December 2, Afternoon
Warnings: Knocking out criminals with apples, cute animals in mortal danger, will add more if they come up

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It's been a while since 47's practiced with certain more... traditional weapons, and he figures that Fayren is the best place to scrape the rust off in that particular area. While looking around to see what's available, he's lucky enough to find a place that rents bows, and elsewhere, a sling for pretty cheap as well. With its small size and light weight, he has his eye on it immediately (it might come in handy, and it'll be fun to learn a new weapon regardless), and is in the process of paying for it when a commotion breaks out behind him.

"Stop! Thief!" He turns around just in time to see a young native race past him, shoving and weaving her way through the crowded market. He watches her go, then looks around to find something to -- ah, an apple cart. Perfect. When he grabs an apple, the man supervising the cart opens his mouth to protest, but 47 cuts him off with, "I'll pay for it in a second."

He quickly finds her again, with the help of his Instinct to pick her apart from the crowd, and draws his arm back, hand full of apple. His focus on the girl is that of a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce; but she's dozens on dozens of yards away by now, with so many people between the two, surely he can't....

47 throws the fruit, sending it sailing over the heads of the crowd before it begins to arc downward again, directly at the fleeing girl's back. The apple practically smashes itself into applesauce against the back of her head, but enough force is transferred to knock her off-balance and, ultimately, to the ground; she doesn't get back up. Unconscious and nothing more, hopefully, unless her skull is made of paper.

True to his word, 47 hands the apple seller a sum at least twice the cost of the apple before making his own way through the crowd to see the result of his handiwork and perhaps return any stolen goods.

---

After that hullabaloo is over, 47 is finally able to focus on what he came out to Fayren for: Practice. He politely refuses the use of the bow rental's archery range, preferring to avoid attention. So he sets up a little ways out from the beaten paths of Fayren, with his back to the woods and firing at some makeshift targets in an open field, securing visibility behind them so he doesn't accidentally shoot someone he can't see if he misses (which he doesn't, but it's better to be safe). Even with the forest at his back, though, he's not so easy to sneak up on; he's got some keen hearing, and pauses his archery training to stop and look around at any suspicious noise.

---

On the way back to return the bow, a flash of movement out of the corner of 47's eye, as well as a gut feeling of danger, stop him. As he follows the direction the movement came from, the source becomes clear: A squirrel is desperately swimming near the middle of a nearby pond, struggling to keep its head above water. He watches for a moment, silently rooting for the squirrel's survival, but then its head dips below the surface -- and doesn't come back up.

That's all he needs to go in after the darn thing... soaking himself to the bone in mid-40-degree weather... ruining his nice clothes... and likely beginning to wash the makeup off his tattoo. Helping the animal will be worth it, though, as long as he doesn't get caught. Still, he's not trying to be particularly stealthy, so his noisy splashes can likely be heard from farther away than he saw the squirrel.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"All right," Dorothy says, and then, with nothing more to say - except to glance once more at the little creature in David's arms, to make certain she was still with them - she began to walk through the forest.

The human must have been cold, after jumping in the river. Wasn't he? She beginning to become just as concerned about his reactions, in the cold early winter air.

At least, in the woods as they were, they were sheltered from any win.

He was still vulnerable to becoming ill.

She thought about this, and walked briskly toward their destination - knowing, at least, if the human happened to swoon, she could easily carry David.

If 47 is bothered by the cold, he doesn't show it. He doesn't even seem to be shivering; just walking along at Dorothy's side. Perhaps he's moving a little more than he has to in order to walk, though.

Soon enough, he points forward. "Is that it?"

"Yes," Dorothy responds, debating if the not-shivering thing was a bad sign. Possible sign of hypothermia? Was David showing any other symptoms? He didn't seem to be.

Regardless. She walked more quickly still, opening up the cabin - peering around inside. There was a new hole in the roof, but since it didn't seem to be raining, sleeting, or snowing, that would be fine. For now.

She removed the cover plate for the I/O port display on her head, turned the inner light on, illuminating the space before her.

And stuck her head up the chimney, to make certain it wasn't blocked.

He watches Dorothy go about her business, no surprise showing on his face, only thoughtfulness. How does he phrase this question nicely...?

Once she's out of the fireplace, he goes to ask her.

"Dorothy. How are you able to do that?" Much better than 'What the hell are you', right?

The cover plate of the I/O port goes back on with a click. It looked safe to light a fire, and she considers if breaking down the moldy furniture inside was worth it.

"I am an android," Dorothy answered, looking at him for a moment. Realized she hadn't mentioned it. "It is not a secret. It didn't occur to me that you didn't know."

Most people seemed to remark on her oddities far before now, and most were also far less polite, it seemed, than David.

He knew she was a bit odd, but as this was their first meeting in person, he had no way of knowing before now.

"...I see. That explains a lot." He's not really in a state to judge her for that; flesh and bone or metal and plastic, an artificial creation is an artificial creation... right?

If this place was lived in, there should be dry firewood kept somewhere, even if it's outside, unless it's all been used up or scavenged.

"You didn't know," Dorothy observed, "but you do not seem surprised."

She didn't look at this place too closely when she wound up here during that Fayren madness, but, she seemed to recall one of those lean-to structures outside, filled with firewood. Once more, she gives David and the tiny squirrel in her arms an assessing look.

Opens the door, says, "I will return with firewood."

47's expression flickers; the facial equivalent of a non-committal shrug. Showing emotions was never really his thing, especially useless ones like surprise.

He nods at her offer, sitting on the floor near the fireplace and temporarily setting down the squirrel, still wrapped up in Dorothy's sock. He digs through his bag to get a smaller bag, resealable and airtight, that protected the lighter and tiny kit of skin-colored makeup inside it. With the lighter in hand, he looks around for some paper or something else he can use as tinder.

There's ... not much inside, which hasn't gotten damp and rotted. But some of the leaves scattered around are dry, and the winter air has certainly robbed a lot of moisture out of what would've been otherwise a rather musty shack. Soon enough, the door opens again.

Dorothy can hardly be seen for the wood she's carrying, smaller sticks for kindling on top, medium-sized branches in the middle, and a few logs good for the heart of a fire on the bottom. As awkward of a bundle as it is, she sets it down easily by the fireplace, and begins to build.

"Is she still with us?" Dorothy asks.

47 sets down the leaves he's gathered near the fireplace, and after a moment of consideration, places his lighter there, too. He'll leave the fire to Dorothy.

He returns his attention to the squirrel, scooping her up in his bare hands once more. After a moment of listening, he looks up at Dorothy, and nods.

"She's still alive."

"Good."

Dorothy's used to using less makeshift tools, but the principle of building a fire is still the same. The dry leaves catch quickly with the lighter, and - mindful not to have the heat warp her synthetic skin, or to have the ash stain her fingers, carefully moves her hands in the fire to make certain everything is situated.

She then sits back, still crouched on the balls of her feet, looking at David.

"... Are you all right?" she asked. "Hopefully the fire will help to dry you."

He scoots up to sit at the closest but still safe distance from the fire that he can, cradling the squirrel with one hand while warming the other. Every so often, he'll switch hands, warming the squirrel with his fire-warmed hand.

"I'm fine." There's a hint of exasperation in his voice; he's not quite annoyed at Dorothy worrying about him, but really, he knows how to take care of himself.

((BTW, you can have Dorothy notice his barcode if you want; it'll give them something to talk about while he dries, unless you'd rather do something else.))

Her scrutiny isn't subtle. Dorothy does notice the barcode - the clear runs in the makeup which had covered it - even as she looks at the squirrel and David both. For a while, she doesn't say anything, but pokes at the fire.

At last, she remarks, "You may not be an ordinary human. I did not intend to underestimate you."

"But most would fall ill after exposure to such temperatures and becoming that soaked."

Dorothy looks at him, flatly, though her voice had no edge to it, this time. "I do not think my concern was unfounded."

After a moment of silence, he sighs.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful." And he's not used to people ~~giving a damn~~ being concerned about him, so he's not really sure how to respond to said concern... not that he'll admit that out loud.

"I'm in as good a shape as can be expected. We acted fast and with prudence. A little more of this fire and I'll be good to walk home." He holds out his spare hand, palm up; an invitation for Dorothy to feel his body temperature for herself.

Her eyes are not equipped with any sort of thermal imaging, she can only judge based on any human tells David would give. Which seem to be frustratingly few.

Gently, she places her hand around his, and while her touch isn't cold and metallic - the texture isn't quite right for skin, either. Just slightly off. Just slightly cooler than flesh would be. If he hadn't asked if she was an android before, he'd surely know now.

Her eyes narrow.

"Your core body temperature may have fallen, but not dangerously." She releases his hand. "But you should still be careful. I should perhaps go into town to find dry clothing."

Any heat he'd gained here could be lost with a gust of wind against his damp garments, after all.

"I should be fine. This is wool." He slowly retracts his hand, warming it at the fire again. "But I won't stop you."

And speaking of dry clothes, he gently unwraps Dorothy's sock from around the squirrel and holds it out to her. With the fire, hopefully the little one won't need it anymore. "If you're going into town, you'll need this back."

"... Thank you." She took back the stocking, but didn't put it on just yet. She can do that outside - it'd be trickier to put it on without being indelicate than take it off. Dorothy had no intention of making either of them uncomfortable.

Dorothy carefully looked him over, making mental notes on his height and approximate shoulder-width and waistline. Based on what she could see, she believed she had at least a close enough estimation of his size.

"Anything I should avoid?" Some humans - she thought specifically of Roger Smith - were rather particular on what they would wear.

He shakes his head.

"I trust your judgement." He's worn some pretty ridiculous things in his life; the fact that whatever it is will be temporary helps.

A pause, and then....

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dorothy is careful, despite the fact the structure offered minimal shelter, to keep the door open as briefly as possible as she left the shack.

Placed her stocking back on. And - mindful of both his comfort with sitting in damp clothes and human boredom - ran toward the town.

Forty-five minutes later, she'd returned - dry socks, dry underclothes, dry tunic and slacks. They were of the style favored by those in Fayren - quite foreign to Dorothy - but they were in warm, thick cotton fabrics, in dark colors. She didn't get a jacket, because David was right - it was wool and would dry relatively quickly - but the others would likely be unpleasantly damp even still.

By the time she returned, she suspected strongly the hint of that barcode would be gone, and she was curios to see if her assumption was true.

Unfortunately, it was still there; simply because the back of one's own head is impossible to see on one's own. He's not even aware that it's visible, and even if he was, he'd need two mirrors to cover it up properly again.

When the door opens, 47 turns toward the sound, some tension leaving his face when he sees that it's Dorothy. He nods in greeting, then gestures down at his lap.

"She's awake." 'She' referring to the squirrel; her black eyes are open, but not fully alert, and she's crawling around a little. She still probably shouldn't be out in the cold yet, but the fact that she's conscious is a good sign.

Dorothy's face noticeably softens. "I'm glad," she replies.

She sets the clothes down by the fire, on a clean patch of flagstone. Stands, considers them a moment. Looks out the window.

"I can face the wall, or stand outside," she offers. "The cold doesn't bother me."

47 collects the squirrel in his hands; she doesn't have the strength to struggle, and is used to him by now anyway. "Can you keep an eye on her while I change?" He stands and holds out the squirrel.

If Dorothy accepts, he'll make his way to the clothes she left for him, crouch down, and wait for her to turn around.

Nodding, Dorothy crouches, and gently takes the small creature into her hands. She's not as used to her - but she doesn't smell like an animal, particularly, and perhaps doesn't alarm her prey instincts as much.

Still, the android holds the creature close to her chest, just in case she tries to lurch out of her gentle grasp for freedom.

Dorothy turned toward the corner, nearest the fire but against the wall, and stroked the back of the little squirrel gently.

Once he's sure Dorothy won't peek, 47 sets to changing -- keeping his eyes glued on her the entire time. The shuffle of cloth, the sound of buckles and zippers, and then....

"Done." He looks down at himself; he looks like he's headed to a Renaissance fair, but it'll work until he gets home.

The entire process took less than 5 seconds.

She's not even the slightest bit tempted, don't worry, David. Once she's given the go ahead, she turns around, and looks at him, assessing. Dorothy doesn't raise an eyebrow, doesn't have obvious tells -

- But she's a little amused by the attire. Gently, she hands the little squirrel back to him. "She is more used to you."

Pauses, then asks, casual and calm, "Do you want assistance with your neck?"

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