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

[dark_light]

"I'll sit with you if you want," Path tells her.

Isabella is the one who answers Adarin: "It's... Possibly entirely mythical; the sort of thing you hear about obscure poorly-understood tribes doing to manufacture slaves or religious sacrifices or whatever. But in theory it'd be not just stretching but actually cutting the person-daemon bond. The daemon would still exist but wouldn't be part of the person anymore."

(Path stops fanning her; she picks him up and holds him close to her chest.)

[prodigal_miser]

"I'd like that, thank you," agrees Vern.

When he gets the explanation, he winces, and picks up his daemon to deposit onto his lap and pet, soothingly.

Softly, Adarin says, "That sounds - barbaric is the best word. Inhumane, too. Just from - being here for a few days, I'm going to have to give an emphatic no."

[dark_light]

"Yeah. It's not something you actually have to worry about," Isabella reassures him.

[prodigal_miser]

"Good," he says, smiling a little. "I've grown fond of my magic talking bird and I'd rather we didn't... Have that. Ever."

Pet, pet. Then, food. Nom nom.

[dark_light]

Isabella nods.

Food. Owlsnuggling.

[prodigal_miser]

Kagupetting, then Adarin's finished with his food.

"It's not dark enough to see the light effect from goddess's magic, is it. I'll have to wait," he says, after a peek to a window.

"Aren't you trying to be more patient?" asks Vern.

"Trying, not necessarily succeeding."

[dark_light]

Metis swings into the kitchen. "Oh, he cooks, too. How long are you going to be around? Indefinitely? Did she claim you at daggerpoint?"

Isabella chokes slightly on a bit of potato.

[prodigal_miser]

For a few seconds, Adarin's very confused. He just kind of peers at Metis, questioningly, trying to figure out what she's talking about.

Then he realizes and coughs, a bit. Second time he's caught off guard by witches, today. His odds aren't in his favor.

"Uh. I'm likely to be around for around a week or so, with occasional visits in the future," he begins delicately. "But no, no - 'claiming at daggerpoint' or anything. I'm not really - I wouldn't like getting forced to, anyway? I'd just leave and that would be that."

[dark_light]

"Well, she's no champion daggerwielder," says Metis, collecting her plate, "so perhaps, perhaps." Off she goes.

"I am," says Isabella, "sorry about that."

[prodigal_miser]

"It's hardly your fault," points out Adarin. "I was just confused until I realized what she'd meant. I thought that sort of thing was on the decline...?"

[dark_light]

"Metis is a lot older than I am. There's... adjustment to do."

[prodigal_miser]

"Ahhh, I see."

He snickers. "It was rather funny, though. Did she want the answer to be yes so I would cook?"

[dark_light]

"Wanted to know if she needed to cover for me with the cops if your family reported you missing, more like. Please rest assured that I'm not going to attempt to claim you or anybody at daggerpoint. I actually don't - date at all."

[prodigal_miser]

Oh.

Well.

"I continue to be on board for 'let's not be horrible to the opposite sex' - it'll catch on eventually."

He doesn't ask about the dating. If she doesn't want to, she doesn't want to. That would be that, except - Vern nudges him and gives him a meaningful look. She's right, of course. He'd regret not knowing.

"Any particular reason, or just no interest...?" he asks, gently.

[dark_light]

"Essentially - I do not know why this is a thing witches do or what it might feel like from the inside to want to, so it seems safer to give the potential impulse a nice wide berth."

[prodigal_miser]

"Fair enough. That's very noble of you, I think."

[dark_light]

"Eh, we'll see if my resolve holds up when I'm a fifty-year-old virgin or whatever. Though I'm crossing my fingers that the alethiometer can help, I'm not sure if it'll be clear enough to act on."

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin nods. "Good luck. I hope that it's not something about witches, just a cultural thing."

[dark_light]

"It's not so easy to tell. I haven't detected sharp object related impulses in my psyche, but that could just be because I haven't been testing myself with live ammunition, so to speak."

[prodigal_miser]

"Makes sense. If you decide to eventually test with 'live ammunition' - would you like me to try and protect whoever it is from daggerpoint claiming?"

From his lap, Vern is giving him a look. Adarin just keeps petting her.

[dark_light]

Path is kind of giving him a look too.

"I'll keep the offer in mind - it's very kind. But maybe the alethiometer will tell me I'm being silly and it's not in my head to be found at all, wouldn't that be nice?"

[prodigal_miser]

Little tiny smile. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Ignore the look from his daemon. Ignore it. No, he's smiling for alternative reasons, what are you talking about you crazy bird.

[dark_light]

Path laughs softly and gives Vernaia a significant glance.

[prodigal_miser]

Vernaia returns it. She makes a little, soft, hopeful trill.

[dark_light]

"Time and thingamajig will tell."