❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[illuminating]

[Back to the path, she replies. There are green ones on the path leading us to Nadril. Don't let yourself touch them.

A low growl rumbles through her as she moves to turn back, still wanting to keep her steps close but no longer pushing entirely against him. This is unnecessary, she complains, winds and flames. I wonder for what benefit do people think of doing things like this? It's an ordeal to travel this land without this kind of weather. Conservation of energy is important.

It is, without a doubt, her complaining, but growl aside, somehow she doesn't sound harsh, just in confused wonder. And it may be the most she's ever conveyed to him that proves she doesn't understand mankind, fond of it as she is. She doesn't understand the idea of people making their own lives harder than they need to be, or harder for each other. This kind of unnecessity borders on cruel to her. She might be asking him, indirectly, why people can't be more supportive of each other.]

[morbide]

Hey, I made this, you know. Show some respect for my creation! Besides, who would make a killer concoction that looked the part? That's a complete waste. You wouldn't get any takers, and nobody would die.

[Henry doesn't seem offended at all... He's still smiling, and the inflection of his voice hasn't changed a bit. He bounces, and the drink sloshes around in the glass but manages not to spill due to its otherworldly consistency.]

Anyway, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? And I'll get to know if I have any talent for this stuff!

[hedonistic]

Least the Khali really lean into the magic stuff. The other two've got no excuse.

[If it wasn't so damn cold here and he didn't have a job where he got to see dragons every day, he would 100% live here.]

[illuminating]

[The defiant one is him, thank-you-very-much. You don't just wake up Mother when she's sleeping. She's still tired, she's still uninspired to desert this bed, she's laid claim on it, but he's bugged her enough that she's definitely not fully asleep any longer.

In partial, weary curiosity, once he's walking away she raises her head with disbelieving groans, complaints for complaints. She's too tired to keep it up for long though, and already has it laying on the quilt once more scarcely before he's returned. At first, once he's sprinkled it, it seems as if she won't respond to the pepper at all, but then the slightest, natural inhale does have her breathing some in.

It starts with the left side of her whiskers wrinkling, a crinkle at her brow bone in distaste. She blows out hard, but this doesn't do anything to give her relief. The first sneeze is tiny, insignificant, a little tsst. The next follow in a barrage, an onslaught of harsh, but little sneezes that cause her to tense, vibrate through her from head to tail. With open eyes, she half-groans and half-whines and hefts up, panting in agitation. Another attack of them, and her trying to stand, one after the other shaking through her, causing her to throw her plush fur over and over, to shake her head in aggravation. The mattress buckles under her weight.

Ears drooping, she glues her eyes on him and huffs another whine, and a third set of sneezes hits, shaking her yet again, and she nearly loses her balance but not quite.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Once she's calmed enough and they're back on their way, he's— actually a little surprised that she starts complaining. Has he ever heard her complain before? Almost definitely not, which tells him that this whole situation must be really getting to her.

He runs his hand along her neck, in a way he hopes is at least a little soothing. ]

They're just tryin' to keep people out. I mean, yeah, this is kind of a dickish way to do it, but if what the Natha says is true, this isn't the kinda place folks oughta just be wandering into whenever they want.

[morbide]

Umm...

[Let's see... Henry drops the drink away from Diana's face for a moment as he tries to recall the names of his choices. He doesn't dwell on it for too long, though. It's not that important, he decides.]

A bunch of reeeeally good-looking stuff. Did you see the pretty shimmery blood-red liqueur? And the one that fizzes in sparks when it makes contact with anything that has a higher ethanol concentration. Stuff like that!

[Sometimes, too much of a good thing makes a very, very bad thing.]

[willrevile]

[ Jim eyeballs it, looking for the manual release, but finding it long obscured; the way it's jammed is the result from impact trauma from the crash, or at least it was at first. Certainly it's got more piled on top, now. ]

A wall of ice wouldn't be too bad, [ he muses. ] Just as long as there's nothing hostile. Don't break your foot, man.

[ He laughs a little. Go team foot trauma. (Jim's has healed, he's fine, it was only briefly and almost boot soup.) ]

You got anything to wedge it with?

[reek]

Anything can be used as bait.

[ Theon is just using bits of one of his smaller previous catches by this point. He’s no seasoned fisherman, but the sea is in his veins. He supposes that must have something to do with it, but he knows that any of his family members would critique his methods if they saw him now.

He merely nods, shuffling over to make plenty of room for the older man if he should choose to move closer. He’s a nervous thing when he speaks, doesn’t make much eye contact at all throughout this conversation, his eyes glued to the ice and his hands clutching the fishing pole just a bit too tightly. ]

If you like. The fish shouldn’t care much if you're still. Not until it’s too late for them to have any say in it.

[reek]

[ He shoots her another severe look, almost embarrassed by her raised voice. He doesn’t need attention called to him and his struggle. Being seen as weak has always been something he despises, and now that he actually is weak, he hates it even more. ]

No. I want you to be silent.

[ He takes a moment to weigh the situation, and he decides he would rather be aided by Claire than have a scene stirred up around him. He knows she won’t back down, so he takes her arm, but he doesn’t look pleased about it. ]

[willrevile]

My foot was almost entirely burned off by toxic zombie dragon acid right before you two woke up, [ Jim says, in the same even tone as discussing the weather. ] It was a wild time, you missed it.

[ The covering goes back over his head, knowing better than to let himself get a chill despite wanting the breather. At least the Natha tried with their kits, but after a few hours in this weather, even the highest tech is going to leave a person miserable. ]

You're from Scotland. [ Surely that's in your genes, Scotty. He looks over at Janeway, tragically trapped in a tiny shelter with these two idiots - ] Where're you from?

[illuminating]

You're open to me walking with you?

[ it's the first she's gotten to ask to be certain, usually she'd just follow if it suited her. she swishes her tail all the same, the whole of her swaying lightly with it, already delighted by such a simple prospect. ]

[reek]

[ Theon, pitiful and broken as he may be, is an incredibly stubborn man. This trek through the snow is a chore, but he’s almost grateful for the chill. It numbs his pain, but it doesn’t make it any easier to walk. He has poor footing these days. It’s difficult to keep upright when you’ve been riddled down to six toes.

Theon does not lean on Kagari. He only looks annoyed at the mere suggestion. I’m sorry, he might have pleaded on another day, when his mind wasn’t in the right place. I have injuries, I have wounds, I’ll do better, I’ll keep up. Instead, his response is an irritable snap: ]

I haven’t asked the group to wait for me.

[ No, Kagari hasn't phrased his words in terms of pity, but Theon sees any offer of help in that way regardless. ]

[dancerefresher]

Ah?

[She hadn't realized what was happening at first. She wobbled a bit, and she ended up getting up onto her feet-but she ended up falling against Setsuna briefly.

Her legs felt shaky.]

S-sorry!

[reek]

[ The Starks had been warning for years about Winter, and it seems their house words were right. Even far from Westeros, winter has still managed to come. Theon doesn’t look at Jon. He just keeps his eyes trained on the white horizon, trying not to focus on the way his feet no longer properly fill his boots, resulting in his awkward and slow gait. ]

Was it like this at the Wall?

[ Time and time again, he wishes he’d acted sooner and taken the black. He wouldn’t have been spared the taunts and laughter, but one thing he would have been spared was Ramsay. ]

[dancerefresher]

Sorry...

[He's so rude, and she's a doormat. A doormat with BRUISES.]

I-I know. They-I came wearing my performance attire. I-I haven't had time to change.

[illuminating]

[ naturally, she cants her chin back and ends up closing her eyes to appreciate the friendly scratch he gives her. ]

That's a relief for me to hear. Did I take your attention from something important?

[ it all works out because two of the younger gods that split from her were a tiger and a cat so an ocelot son isn't gonna upset the balance ig ]

[illuminating]

[With ears ducking with natural docility, she reaches out with her neck to take in the scent of the back of his hand. She's quietly thankful he realizes this is customary for her, that she's inclined to greetings in this way more than giving her voice to someone. The fact that noses like this can take in a wealth of information means the curiosity urges her forward, and soon she's merely following after working nose to arm and clothes and where his clavicle lies.]

Riku. I'm grateful you've chosen to speak with me. The name given to me is Amaterasu. You can also call me by the name, Ammy, a shortened version, if 'Amaterasu' makes your voice tired.

[warmare]

[... ah. It's him. Addressing her... quite familiarly.

Hayame's nose wrinkles immediately, displeased at the way her sense of smell was blunted by the dry, cold air in Nadril- the only indication that she might have been able to use to avoid this meeting. But it's happening, and she has to pay attention to the answer or risk looking foolish when she was the one who had asked in the first place.

When her eyes follow his movement, because if she doesn't focus on immediate goals her mind spirals out all too easily back to the lost black of the insanity that was their situation.]

So you simply need them removed from the wall?

[Helping and working aside humans that had not earned her respect or loyalty was... grating. Menial labor was disgraceful.

But then again, so was being alive.]

[dancerefresher]

No that's...oh! That's a joke.

[She smiles, blushing a bit. Well...it's kinda sad that the drink is wasted, but she was kind of falling asleep where she sat.

Did she want to come with him? Well, he was wolfskin, and he had been nothing but friendly. There's still a flutter of nerves though as she peers up at him, her cheeks almost turning pink.

Almost, but not quite. She nods, and makes to stand up, wobbling in the process.]

O-okay. Thanks for um...looking out for me.

[defenses]

[ despite being the actual source of the alarm,

he doesn't actually know how to stop it. which is precisely why he becomes so frantic so quickly. ] H-hold on!! I got this! [ but does he really? honestly, it seems to take him a while to even figure out he's the cause...

either way, his free hand eventually reaches up to the accessory attached to his ear. except, it doesn't exactly stop. instead he seems to have just locked up on itself bc it doesn't seem to be doing much of anything. not reacting to his touch or his thoughts? ]

Er— I don't got this? Ya think you could lend me a hand? [ he leans his hear towards keaton's direction?! ]

[dancerefresher]

[She doesn't squirm around, even if she wants to. Instead, she reaches up, not saying a word has his grip shifts. She's a dancer; she knows that this can happen, especially when it comes to controlled lifts and falls.

At first, it almost looks as if she would need to be standing on his hands-but she suddenly gets a grip, and her legs come up, prepared to flip up and over her head into the opening.]

Got it!

[gekkajuu]

[Definitely and absolutely. There are a lot of different people (and species) here, so clearly everything should be capable of withstanding a little more than average force!]

Oh...

[Atsushi has to glance at his paw to realize that he has, not for the first time, forgotten that people may still be surprised by his ability. He was so panicky, warning people about it at first - but that was over a year ago, and he's gotten a little too used to being completely open about it. Or, rather: getting used to it means, by definition, that he has to ignore the possibility that people may freak out.]

I'm a weretiger. [A little embarrassed - it feels like taking credit for something not of his doing, somehow - he transforms his arm back into something fully human.] I can't turn into a tiger completely [well... not at will...] but things like my limbs are easy enough to transform.

It's pretty convenient.

tongue in mouth disease

[gekkajuu]

You're welcome.

[And he's just going to ignore how she's putting herself down, because he's a little too used to that, himself, and pointing it out never helps.]

Are you -... Did you arrive with the rest of us, just now?

["Just now" is an exaggeration, really - but since everyone here is a refugee, some (apparently) from a very long time ago, he can't exactly ask about that for clarity.]

[illuminating]

She's reluctant to give into his suggestion to quit worrying, eyes and ears continuing to stay on high alert. At least until he explains (or from her perspective, reminds her) the others will most likely aid each other. Almost at last, her ears settle on him, and her gaze does too, for a considerable length, as if she's finally content to visit despite her agitation. He's right. And she needs to give them the opportunity and room to help each other. Her doubts aren't entirely subsided, bad evils can still ambush two or even three people at once, can devastate a whole land.

Her purpose and use is to mother, and be a mother, and without her usual means, much of the time she doesn't know what to do with herself. She's lost a lot, she's heard of things that have happened, it keeps her on edge—if she lets up too much... This kind of feeling is what it amounts to. However, he inspires her to try to let up a little, so rather than another chorus of whines she sighs heavily out of her snout and tucks her ears down to listen to him, faintly tilting her face one way or the other.

Instinctively, her ears perk to more attention at the offered food, and almost guiltily her nose is wriggling. Then, he claims she looks fancy, and she... almost looks startled. She can imagine Issun's unending, uproarious laughter, his tiny fist pounding her head, or tugging the hair there. He'd probably say something like, Are you kidding me? Ammy? And in her old language, she'd admonish him ineffectually: What's wrong with him thinking I look nice?

There's the slight crushing sound of snow under her paws as she takes one, then a second step closer, tempted by the smell of the jerky. Her nose twitches near it, for a whole minute, she must seem as if she's really considering it. But the one who needs food to survive is him—and rather than pinching her teeth on one end, she nudges her head against his hand grasping the meat and presses it forward, stepping meaningfully after it to push it back toward him. He should eat it. Go on, then.

[illuminating]

[Her own hello in return is to groan into a yawn, and although she cannot answer properly, she leisurely picks her tail up to faintly thump it against the ground, once, twice. It's amusement. There was times she felt she was close to getting lost herself, yes, but luckily, it never happened.

With sleepy-addled, meaningless, but still chatty grumbles, she wriggles until she's resting over her more adamantly, legs curled over, chest in lap. Her presence solid, and somehow gently demanding, she presses weight and fur against unsure hand, against this girl's frame to let her know being stroked is never not appreciated; and as if to cement her very being there. It has the looks of an animal fussing for attention, but it's equally her way of showing she's here for her, so don't be shy.]