picknicking

[dark_light]

There's something unutterably pleasant about landing in a bit of woods in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, removing a sandwich and an apple from her backpack and having a picnic before she's ready to move on. She could eat in midair, but it makes it too likely that she'll drop something and find it unrecoverable.

Path's on her knee, and her cloudpine is propped up against the tree next to her.

Comments

[prodigal_miser]

"Oh, alright. That all makes sense," he says, agreeably. "But you said mortals don't have magic? So I'm a little confused."

He does not have matching technology in his world; Isabella might be realizing that.

[dark_light]

"It's not magic, it's - okay, what non-magical thing was most recently invented where you're from?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Hmm," he says, stopping to think. "The one I know best is two pieces of glass that go in a frame to change what a person sees and can be used to correct vision."

[dark_light]

"So you have spectacles. Okay. That's pretty cool, right? And it doesn't take any magic to make. It turns out there are a lot of non-magical things to invent and we have a few hundred years' head start on you guys."

[prodigal_miser]

"... And they can get the equivalent of a type of scrying through technology? That's... Both nice to hear and somewhat unsettling."

[dark_light]

"They've got all kinds of cool things. I have a phone -" She pulls out her cellphone. "I can use this to talk to my dad from across the country, or order food delivered, or summon emergency services, and access the internet, which is basically all the world's non-secret knowledge in a technological library that can be accessed by anybody with a compatible device."

[prodigal_miser]

"Nevermind. I take it back. That's amazing and I want a pocket library," he says, almost immediately. He coughs, right after. "I mean uh. That's interesting."

[dark_light]

Isabella grins and puts her phone away. "I'm pretty sure you couldn't get 'pocket library' service where you're from. Requires a lot of elaborate technological infrastructure."

[prodigal_miser]

"Damnation," he says, maybe pouting just a little. He wanted a pocket library. It would have been useful.

[dark_light]

"Also all the internet's information is about here, not there."

[prodigal_miser]

"A pocket library is a pocket library, I am not a picky man when it comes to all knowledge everywhere stored in a handhold device," he replies, archly.

[dark_light]

Isabella laughs. "It's faster to get at from larger non-pocket devices, and it also costs money to keep your device - subscribed, and sometimes people put false information in the library. It's not perfect. But it is pretty great."

[prodigal_miser]

"I'm kind of jealous, even with the caveats it comes with," he says. "It sounds wonderful. Despite the false information."

[dark_light]

"Your world presumably has neat stuff too."

[prodigal_miser]

"We do have portals. They are indeed nice," declares Adarin, with a smile. It's no pocket library, but it is convenient.

[dark_light]

"Maybe witchcraft can do those too. I'll ask the alethiometer."

[prodigal_miser]

"Isabella. You have to give me some reason to not leave my world forever and go running off here for fantastic pocket libraries. Let me have something," he says. He's obviously joking.

[dark_light]

"You have to bring them chamomile," she suggests. She pulls a dagger out of the folds of her silks and cuts open the nearer of the cooking pigeons; finding it cooked through, she turns off the fire and sets about plating them for herself and Metis.

[prodigal_miser]

"Hm. True. But then I could just go back, throw it at someone, then immediately turn around and come back here," he replies. "Chamomile delivered, my job is complete."

[dark_light]

"Well, I'm not going to stop you if you want to immigrate, unless it turns out you're carrying horrible diseases or are secretly evil or something."

[prodigal_miser]

"As far as I know, I am neither," he defends. "Though- honestly I don't think I'm in a position to immigrate."

[dark_light]

"No?" Isabella goes into the kitchen, where she sprinkles rosemary and salt and pepper on both squabs.

[prodigal_miser]

"... Well. It would be screwing over various people that don't deserve it? But I suppose I'm physically capable of it," he explains. "Arrogant though it sounds to say that just me leaving would cause that, I realize."

[dark_light]

"How would it do that? Metis! Dinner!"

(Metis collects her squab; Isabella cuts a chunk off of hers and offers it to Adarin, then starts slicing the rest of it up for herself.)

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin takes his share of squab, "Thank you. Do you remember how I explained how magic works in my world?"