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text ↪ un: dostoevsky

Can we all take a moment to admire the fact that 2801 technology still supports emoji functionality? 🤩 👍 🕷 💁 🩰 💫 🍆 🧊 💅 👁‍🗨 🎯 🤡 🔋 🐈 💲 🧙‍♀️ 🐦💋 🐜 👽 🕶 ⚡ 🕵🏻‍♀️ 💦 💦 💦

It seems like they're pretty set on calling us 'Hatchlings', so... hello, fellow Hatchlings, I'd like to play a game.

Two truths and a lie. I'll start.

① Starbucks makes the best lattes.
② I've never watched All Dogs Go To Heaven all the way through.
③ My birthdate is May 21st. What year? Every year. 😉😉😉 But my party in 2018 was 🔥🔥🔥.

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It's the fuel I need to keep going, praise like that. I considered writing some trashy interpersonal drama set in the Chantry in their honour. Secrets and backstabbing in religious circles over bake sales and secret blood rites.

I haven't seen any so far, so I think our good times are safe for now. I'm sure if any did arrive they'd make sure to let us know about it...

[ He can't quite tell her that as he doesn't know what's going on in her head, but damn if he wouldn't be proud of her for figuring it out to that extend.

Still, Sam's absolutely liberating some paper to scribble a small note. He has Redwing pinch it carefully with his little grappling cuff, and then sends the drone scurrying off. ]

🐦➡➡➡🐦💌👩

[ And shortly after, a soft whirr and chirping sound will alert Nina to Redwing's arrival - once the drone manages to find her, that is.

The note delivered reads:

'Hey Nina, this is Redwing. He's cute! If he sees you, I can see you. Redwing can't make waffles, so have a bad drawing of waffles instead. You're doing amazing with the pictures! Sam'

And under that message is a... questionable waffle doodle. An attempt was made. ]

Well, you need the time to write, don't you? The ideas can come any time, but you need the time to sit down and get them out. And I don't have these fancy machines where I just press buttons - where I'm from, it's all ink and paper.

[There's a growing list of things about this camp he could get used to, and being able to write out your thoughts with just a few taps of the fingers is at the top. Showers come second.]

Then you definitely know more writers than just me. Anyone's a writer - they just have to have an idea and get it out. You could be one if you wanted.

I'm making notes as we speak.
Not that I'm the heroic type, I'm more the man behind the hero making sure the wind blows their hair back just right and making sure the story's going to sound good at the bar later.

I don't know, I think the snake guts would make a second appearance if I'd drunk them.

I'm assuming someone in your family makes a mean blackened catfish, then.

I worked in complicated acquisitions for a long time, private sector. Most people call it treasure hunting. [ Which is as genteel a way of saying "professional theft" as possible. ] Stepped away and transitioned to salvage, found some good work along the Mississippi.

It's Nathan Drake, but I appreciate the comparison

I took a shot in the dark. How off-base am I?

Oh - hand writing. Does it hurt? I've read books that say it hurts to write a lot by hand. Or does developing the muscles make it not hurt anymore? I've never understood that. I'm not sure. I've been using speech-to-text because it's easier to talk than it is to know what to write.

I'm sure it would hurt like hell if you hadn't been doing it your whole life. But imagine you've never seen any of this technology before and the only way to get anything down was handwriting. You'd get good at it without hurting pretty quickly.

[In other words: yes, it's the muscles. Why say it with four words when you could say it with 45?]

Shit, you can do that?

[Brief pause before the next message.]

Andraste's tits, I've been missing out. Wasting whole seconds of my life tapping on a bit of glass.

These were monks who transcribed books, because they hadn't invented the printing press yet. I'd imagine if anyone was used to it it would be them, but I don't actually know much about monks. Maybe someone was always writing but it wasn't always the same person. Now comes the part where you hide that you can do that, or you'll have fans saying if you can write any time...

[and then, because she's been thinking about this:]

What's it like? I mean - hurting. Pain.

yeah that'd be my little sister's specialty. but she ain't got nothing on my gumbo, and anyone who tells you different is a filthy liar.

so your regular indiana jones, yeah? which I'm sure is a joke you've never heard in your entire life, ever.

[ Sam's not much of a spy, but he's worked with Natasha - he's not an idiot. There's enough tucked into those words to imply something, but he appreciates the craftiness at selling the job titles. Plus like, he's totally seen Indiana Jones and Tomb Raider. He knows what's up. ]

not a bad place for a new start at all

oh you the hype man, running pr and marketing, yeah?

[ memo to self: do not talk about the actual superhero shit in front of this guy. he doesn't wanna give the wrong impression there. ]

it was a close call, I'll admit that

Not British, but posh is acceptable. I refuse to be termed second to anyone who willingly goes by 'Harry'.

Got it. Ministry of Information was past employment, not current. [ technically, 'prince' probably is past employment now too, but fuck that, no one's taking royalty from him. ]

What made your 2018 party worth the honorable mention?

[ ...the flying machine is going to find her now, is that it?

Well. Let's not think too much of the military applications of this sort of technology, and how difficult it would be to hide from something that can see you from the air and report back to someone beyond your range.

...nope. She's thinking about it. She's definitely... thinking about it. And as she's curious to determine the type of abilities the flying machine has, she doesn't leave the theater to make it easier for it to find her.

It manages to find her anyway. Through the wall.

Well.

That's something.

Nina's very glad they're not fighting a war here.

Redwing hovers around her with the note between its... feet? Hands? ...metal brackets? What a fascinating thing! And Nina can't help but - somewhat ludicrously, since she did just see the drone fly through the doors, wave her hand slowly above it as if checking for strings. No strings. Okay.

A little cautiously, Nina reaches out to take the note. She sees the doodle of the waffle first and smiles at it. Then the whatever-it-is-that's-in-their-head-that-translates-words works its magic and she reads Sam's message.

Oh, he can see her? She looks up, smiles, and waves at Redwing.

Fortunately, there are some pencils involved with the whole set-building thing she's doing, so she snags one, flips the paper over, and writes:

'Hello, Sam! Redwing is very cute. I have never seen anything like him before. The pictures are very fun. Thank you for sharing with me all the ways they can be used! - Nina.' There is a small :) to accompany it, as she is just basically copying from the emojis she sees on the phone. The note is then placed in Redwings... metal... pinions... what? and Nina returns her attention to the children who want very badly to touch the drone but are not tall enough. ]

Who's the Captain?

( asking for a friend
literally )

[ Yeah, Redwing is a bit of a walking privacy violating if Sam wants to abuse him. But Nina's also got the right idea - after all, Sam mainly uses the drone as mission backup. Incredibly helpful to figure out how many people are gonna be shooting at you before you walk into the room.

For now, Redwing flies a fast circle around Nina and the kids, does a looping, and then zooms off as fast as he'd appeared, tracking back to Sam to deliver the response.

Redwing doesn't return, but Sam laughs reading the message, and immediately texts Nina: ]

alright, you are officially my favorite person on this planet
🤩💐🧇👸

The human one. Captain Childe.

[temporarily taking over for incapacitated Krakau crew aside human rank in the EMC is capped at Lieutenant and the idea of high ranking humans kinda makes Mops' head spin.]

[ Saints, what an (unmerited?) compliment! Sam's enthusiasm is so genuine and appealing, and it's so strange to be Received as she is by... anyone, but especially by someone who is not a Grisha. Granted, she is still curating the Nina Experience (tm) carefully, and she usually uses honey rather than vinegar, but this is still... she's not sure how to deal with this, exactly? It's so foreign to her experience?

So she just shakes her head and responds with gleeful acceptance: Yes, she is the winner, and yes, so is he for having the good taste to proclaim that she is the winner; also, he's pretty neat himself. ]

🥇🏆👧😂😀👨🏾‍🦲🏆🥇

Good to know. You know, I'm starting to feel really out of the loop here.

And I can't even look things up on the HoloNet.

That's how it works in Thedas - where I'm from. Monks or anybody paid well enough with hand muscles of steel writes copies of books. Even mine, although I would bet money that no monk ever copied a book of mine. My publisher handles all that and she would probably spontaneously combust if she walked into a Chantry.

[He likes her, but she's literally in a criminal gang, so it's true.]

You don't know what it feels like? A lot of people would be jealous of that.

Let me see... Pain is your body crying out to you to stop doing what you're doing. It has a lot of tones of voice depending on what you're doing and how intense it is. Sometimes it just grumbles dully, or nags you with its whiny voice. But there's pain that's like scraping a sword on stone, you know the way the sound makes you wince? It can throb, stab, wash over you like acid.

Sometimes it grounds you and lets you think clearly enough to act when you need to.
Sometimes it's so intense your body doesn't know what it's feeling, it just screams at you to stop.

That makes me sound like a professional. I just like spinning a good tale. And occasionally I shoot people. When I have a sodding crossbow to do it with.

[He hasn't found his Bianca yet, and he promises he's not bitter about it.

No, that's a lie. He is bitter. How dare the mysterious forces of the universe not give him Biance right in his hand when he arrives.]

So what kind of superheroing do you see and/or do? On a scale of 'rescuing cats from trees' to 'delivering the whole world from unimaginable peril'.

You don't have the technology to replicate text quickly. That sounds difficult. Your books must be rare and expensive.

[which also, to her mind, means he's probably a bigger deal than she'd assumed when she expected printing presses or woodcuts. Whichever came first. She is not at all sure.]

That's very poetic. No, humans - cured humans - don't experience pain. I have something like a dull pressure or tightness. Sometimes, like when an organ ruptures, I also feel my heartbeat throbbing around the area, but it's not exactly precise. My uniform was designed to log damage and inform me or I wouldn't know most of the time. It doesn't feel very important. It's a tradeoff. As far as I've heard pain exists to tell you not to do something. I've known people who walked into fire or with broken legs and hurt themselves further or died. It's part of why we're so feared as fighters, though.

I desperately need you to take this seriously, if you find a way to make gumbo here with some alien okra I will literally pay you to feed me

[ What will he pay this man with? Who the Hell even knows or cares, it's not important, the important thing is gumbo. ]

But yeah, something like that. Even seen my fair share of dead Nazis.

We could do worse on the venue, so it's nice to meet you. Nathan Drake.

[ crossbow... Sam's about to judge the antiquity when he remembers he's throwing a big shield like a frisbee as his weapon of choice these days.

it occurs to him that taking up the mantle meant giving up all rights to judge other strange weapon choices. damnit. ]

shockingly? kinda both. I mean, world ending plots are practically a dime a dozen. what kinda monster wouldn't stop for a little kid needing a cat saved, though?

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text ↪ un: dostoevsky

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u ever got any questions let me know I have family in those parts :')

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ooohhh that's good to know, thank you so much

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