( camp ) [week 7] thursday night

[lovecolored]

[ Oh damn, it's getting close to curfew. The last thing Marisa wants is a repeat of no-alibi-night (well. the last thing she wants is to be supermurdered and coralified, actually). She puts her book and pen back in her trunk, leaving a tin of...something plant-y and liquid to sit out for the night on top of it, and starts heading out with the intent of going to the rec room.

Though she sees someone dawdling in the clearing, she takes a detour. ]

Hey, Lenka. Got any plans tonight?

Comments

[soylentprotag]

[It is inefficient, but if Sol is somehow still at a child's level of maturity in their awareness of themselves and their place in this world -- and their grasp of their powers -- then it makes a perfect and messy kind of sense. He's not sure if it's a good thing or not, not at this point.

Knowing this place, they'll probably have to find out firsthand.

Lenka shakes his head a little. Refocuses.]

Ah. Yes. Something like that. The plants and the animals... And the structures. It was because no one knew how to fight them. [at least in part, anyway; the other part is just...] And there were too many, I think.

[He's quiet for a moment, contemplative.]

It was weird, when I first got here, that there weren't any.

[lovecolored]

[ One of these days she'll realize the gods she's used to dealing with are old ladies, despite them all looking 25 and under, and Sol is...decidedly not. That does make thinking about their situation easier when she thinks of them as literally a little kid.

But today's not that day, and she still looks confused about it. ]

So it was just somethin' you got used to. [ For a second, she looks a little sad. Getting used to the total eradication of plant life doesn't sound like something she could handle, with how much she likes the forest. ]

Say, s'that why you've been gardenin', here? [ Is Lenka mourning the plants back home... ] They're nice, by the way. The stuff you put around the cabin.