[closed-ish] all the way north on the train the sun

[polyphonos]

CHARACTERS: Cathaway & [Ilde/Prince/insert option C]
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :036+
SUMMARY: Catchall for Cathaway on the Station mid-Waypoint Shril and beyond; Cathaway and Ilde prepare a meal; Prince and Cathaway have a serious conversation over tea.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

[It’s on a chain and my father said
to me Don’t get too close I saw it was
staring down at each of our faces
one after the other as though it might
catch sight of something in one of them
that it remembered I stood watching its eyes
as they turned away from each of us]

((ooc: In or around the Station Day :036 or beyond? Drop me a starter or PM me for something. All threads will be set prior to the end of Mission Waypoint Shril.))

Comments

[somnifacient]

[At some point, Noctis remembers that he was making an attempt at putting together something edible too, and he moves to the bowl that he had cracked an egg into prior. A hand reaches out towards another egg nearby (cool and slick, he wonders what animal it came from), and he taps its shell against the bowl.

There's something paradoxical about Cathaway, he thinks. He feels uneasy in her wholeness, the way she keeps using "we", how her very presence is an entire web rather a singular thread. And yet, Noctis feels as if there's sincerity in her words, a thoughtfulness that he can find comfort in. We would like to do what we can to make you comfortable.

He's not always sure how to reconcile this, and so he just pushes it aside for now, something to be dwelled on at a later date.

The egg cracks, spilling yolk into the bowl. No shell this time, but sticky residue on his fingers just the same.]

Sure.

[polyphonos]

[She has gone momentarily idle, the knife still in her hand but grip loose and the point set thoughtlessly against her work surface as she watches Noctis crack the egg.]

Is a chocobo a lizard or a bird?

[somnifacient]

[He stops mid-reach for the towel again, surprised. He wasn't sure what question he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

He actually chuckles a little..]

It's a bird. A big yellow bird. Sometimes black, but good luck trying to tame one of those.

[He tentatively offers an image of such a bird to her, if she'll have it. Big enough to ride, quick but easily startled. The sounds they make, kweh kweh. A puff of bright yellow feathers swishing in the breeze.]

You don't have chocobos where you're from? [It's something he never considered until now.]

[polyphonos]

[She's amenable to the image in his mind - soaking it up like a sponge touching water -, to the explanation, to his company.]

No, not quite. There are large animals where we're from-- ['We' but not Cathaway; she doesn't say it, but the sensation of infinite, unspoken clarity somehow prickles under the words--] But nothing quite like that.

[The knife is traded for a bowl, the diced fruit transferred there with a sweep of her hand. She fixes Noctis with a fly look and a half smile, all mischief.]

Is that why you're so bad at cracking eggs? Because they're bigger where you come from?

[somnifacient]

[He scoffs -- more an exhale of air than anything dismissive -- and does clean his fingers on the towel for now, averting his gaze to the task. Embarrassment is totally not kicking in, all right?]

Ha ha.

[But he's not offended at all. It won't be the last time someone remarks about his preparation skills, or a lack thereof.]

I wouldn't ever crack a chocobo egg. [He's too fond of them, they're too cute for their own good.

Wipe, wipe. He gently tosses the towel down, but doesn't look at her again just yet.] My turn. Can I ask you something else?

[polyphonos]

[There's a little flush of something in the air, the tang of citrus and an easy warmth of good humor as she smiles and continues her own work. Good. It would be a shame if all kings and princes were humorless.]

Of course. Ask whatever you like.

[Her mind is open enough to him. Why not? What point would there be in lying to him or anyone like him?]

[somnifacient]

[Even with the open invitation and good humor intertwined between them, Noctis still hesitates. He has a question, yes, but it's hard for him to put it into words properly. He only knows what he feels from Cathaway -- the sense of many being one.]

You've been with the Nest a long time now, right?

[A prelude to his real question, then.]

[polyphonos]

We have.

[Her answer comes easily, so instantaneous as to be a little thoughtless. At it's most basic, this is a simple question to answer.

Of course, nothing is simple.]

This one, the body Cathaway, has been a resident of the Station for fifty or seventy years. You'll have to forgive us for not having an exact grasp of the length of time. But the rest of us... it's difficult to parse. A long time.

[somnifacient]

[He tries to parse this in a way that doesn't bother him. Noctis finds it difficult, though a metaphor plays out in his mind -- many threads, coming together to weave into a singular entity that was all of them and none of them at the same time.]

Is that something that... naturally happens over time?

[The tiny spike of concern is easily felt from him.]

[polyphonos]

More or less. Which we mean literally even if it sounds-- [she pauses in her work and makes a wobbly hand motion, punctuated with a flash of a grin.]

Host minds drift naturally toward the Nest due to their connection to the symbiote. But the drift can be slow enough to maintain some sense of individuality for most lifetimes if the Host wishes it. Take the Prince, for example. He has been here the same length of time as us - as Cathaway -, and he is nothing like we are. But yes. Some measure of the bleed is inevitable.