[A - 'pon the left-hand side] [The Fyrra is... new. Smoking anything is new for Linneus, but while it does make him cough and splutter a bit, the experience... is not actually unpleasant.
At least at first.
It hits him about a third of the way into the walk to the village, a slight, buzzing haziness in his head and mind, but he tries not to pay it any attention. After all, there is so much strange, beautiful scenery to take in. Outside of a stop along the way to rest their legs, there is no opportunity to pause to sketch, to leave the path briefly for flowers and leaves to press, lest he hold up the group.
But the more he walks, the worse it gets. Perhaps the colours are brighter than usual, and more plentiful - so many, too many - too many to take in properly. Looking away, even following his own feet, seems to just make his disorientation worse. Has his vision always jogged like that with every step...? Since when has the movement of his legs reverberated through his body so? Oh, he has to sit down...
And it is about this moment thankfully, blessedly, the guides lead the group to a small rest area. It might just be a few rocks and logs in the shade, but Linneus is quite happy to take the moment to gather himself. He should get some water from his pack or something but for the time being Linneus is slumped uncharacteristically, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging while he tries to will his vision to settle.]
[B - now in technicolour] [but a little rest has him right as rain and ready to explore; perhaps backtracking to the forests again with his sketchbook and watercolours to draw out some of the strange things growing there.
Looking, but not touching - he knows better than to go around poking strange plants when he's by himself, he's seen others run afoul of that mistake before. It is certainly reassuring to know that the brightness of the colours was not a mere trick of his mind, but he has to mix and re-mix his colours to try to get them just right and he is absorbed in the task, settled against a tree, seated on the mossy ground.
He is only here for a short time - best to record as much as he can.]
[C - wildcard (NSFW possible)] [the rest of his stay is filled with trying to absorb as much of the new area as he can - visiting the museums, or discussing his studies with the locals to learn the correct names and properties of the plants he found... picking - and perhaps even partaking - of the fyrra again, albeit with trusted company and in the more comfortable environment of the parlours.
Linneus Teahouse | OTA
Khalo? Is it me you're looking for?[A - 'pon the left-hand side]
[The Fyrra is... new. Smoking anything is new for Linneus, but while it does make him cough and splutter a bit, the experience... is not actually unpleasant.
At least at first.
It hits him about a third of the way into the walk to the village, a slight, buzzing haziness in his head and mind, but he tries not to pay it any attention. After all, there is so much strange, beautiful scenery to take in. Outside of a stop along the way to rest their legs, there is no opportunity to pause to sketch, to leave the path briefly for flowers and leaves to press, lest he hold up the group.
But the more he walks, the worse it gets. Perhaps the colours are brighter than usual, and more plentiful - so many, too many - too many to take in properly. Looking away, even following his own feet, seems to just make his disorientation worse. Has his vision always jogged like that with every step...? Since when has the movement of his legs reverberated through his body so? Oh, he has to sit down...
And it is about this moment thankfully, blessedly, the guides lead the group to a small rest area. It might just be a few rocks and logs in the shade, but Linneus is quite happy to take the moment to gather himself. He should get some water from his pack or something but for the time being Linneus is slumped uncharacteristically, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging while he tries to will his vision to settle.]
[B - now in technicolour]
[but a little rest has him right as rain and ready to explore; perhaps backtracking to the forests again with his sketchbook and watercolours to draw out some of the strange things growing there.
Looking, but not touching - he knows better than to go around poking strange plants when he's by himself, he's seen others run afoul of that mistake before. It is certainly reassuring to know that the brightness of the colours was not a mere trick of his mind, but he has to mix and re-mix his colours to try to get them just right and he is absorbed in the task, settled against a tree, seated on the mossy ground.
He is only here for a short time - best to record as much as he can.]
[C - wildcard (NSFW possible)]
[the rest of his stay is filled with trying to absorb as much of the new area as he can - visiting the museums, or discussing his studies with the locals to learn the correct names and properties of the plants he found... picking - and perhaps even partaking - of the fyrra again, albeit with trusted company and in the more comfortable environment of the parlours.
It is, after all, local custom.]