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]

He snickers. "Pretty much. I mean, it's kind of like a festival with lots of parties all the time going on, but - you get the idea. I'm still trying to fix healing and anything medical. I will make that happen."

[dark_light]

"Good. You know, I'm starting to wonder if what you need might be immigration. Competent healthy people with expertise in various tech and infrastructure."

[prodigal_miser]

"Hmmmm. I think that would help, but it seems wise to get a stable system up before I start adding in more people from somewhere else into the mix. Why," he teases, "Did you decide to forsake the pocket library and join the place with two moons?"

[dark_light]

"I think I am looking at a multiresidential existence, in all likelihood. Although now I'm wondering if you can run cable through a portal and get Internet in New Kystle."

[prodigal_miser]

"... Ooo. Have I mentioned that I like you? Because I do. You keep having good ideas."

[dark_light]

"You have, but I can stand to hear it as often as you care to remind me."

[prodigal_miser]

He grins. "I'll need to space it out, so it's always a pleasant surprise."

[dark_light]

"Whatever floats your boat," she laughs. "I wanna go fly around under the stars for a while before I go to bed. Do you want to come along?"

[prodigal_miser]

"I don't get to fly nearly often enough to turn down the chance to. Sure."

[dark_light]

And so there is flying, and Isabella attempts vainly to describe the feel of starlight, and then there is sleep.

Time passes.