eyemind | event } lime, coconut, explosions

WHO: All y’all
WHAT: A nice vacation to ease everyone in
WHERE: Various locations on Alkonost Island, including Navi
WHEN: Sept 12-30
WARNINGS: Use ‘em in your threads if needed!

Welcome to Alkonost, the beautiful tropical island on the planet Tetagari where you have just made an emergency crash landing! You’ll be here for a while, so settle in and get cozy with your new shipmates until Navi is repaired and ready for takeoff.

Alkonost is a small island with an eponymous beachfront village, with the rest of the land covered in tropical rainforest, dry forest, and grasslands. Most of the land is still wild, as the Alkonost population is centered at the beach, though ancient ruins can be found a bit more inland. Alkonostians are a humanoid, amphibious people, with light green skin, gills, and webbed fingers; they are friendly and welcoming to tourists, business contacts, and intergalactic refugees alike.

Speaking of business, the main exports of Alkonost are various types of fish, shell jewelry, and a unique, dark red pearl that is only cultivated in the waters surrounding the island. These red pearls are highly prized on other islands and provide the bulk of income for the Alkonost population. They’ve also recently attracted a band of pesky pirates, which has taken to raiding export ships and even the pearl farms themselves, on occasion. Warning signs are posted near the shoreline and will be explained by locals if asked.

While visiting, you can elect to work as part of a fishing or pearl farming crew, or with one of the island’s fruit collection squads, and you’ll be paid daily in fresh fish and equally fresh fruit. For necessities of the non-consumable sort, the village open-air market is open every day for all of your shopping needs. Otherwise, grab some sun on the beach, dance and sing around bonfires at night, get to know your fellow passengers, or just chill on the ship and get to know Navi.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For better or worse, haggling isn't something that Emet-Selch has spent a great deal of time doing. He's familiar with the concept, certainly, but he's never had much need to actually practice the art. On the other hand, what he lacks in genuine familiarity with it, he makes up for with sheer willingness to be both blunt and deliberately stubborn; as such he makes his way over without so much as a second thought.

There's a moment of silence, as he examines the textiles on display - one he draws out just a little too long, in the hopes it might unsettle the vendor - and only then does he offer his judgment.

"Not at the prices being asked for them, certainly. Indeed, I might have cause to doubt the workmanship, if they cannot even so much as stand on their own merits. As I would assume to be the case if they need to be offered with another purchase?"

He raises a single eyebrow with the question, almost as if daring the merchant to try and prove otherwise.

Jane's too short-tempered for the art of haggling, even if she should be pretty good at it -- most of her time is spent trying to keep dozens of people somewhat happy at any given time. Then again, that also explains why she doesn't have the patience to argue about money.

"What he said," she says to the vendor, whose expression has grown decidedly cowed thanks to Emet-Selch's gaze. "I'll just take the pants, thanks. Keep your goddamn thistle socks."

Once her purchase is complete Jane flashes him a small smile. "No surprise you know your textiles."

The sight of someone offering him a genuine smile - or at least, what he assumes to be a genuine smile - is... unusual. Not unwelcome, certainly. But not something he's seen offered his way for longer than he cares to think about, for all that he's careful to not let his thoughts on the matter show.

Instead, he offers a shrug, as easy as anything, before speaking up.

"A matter of necessity, given the mountainous climate of where I'd been staying, prior to this."

Which... probably also explains the layers, as well.

Why shouldn't she smile at him? Of the fellow passengers she's met, Emet-Selch has been, in Jane's eyes, the most reasonable despite his weird attire (but maybe he's fashionable as fuck where he lives, who knows). He's at least taken the time to respond to her respectfully, which makes him at-least-not-immediately-awful in her view.

They're not friends or whatever, but he's treated her okay. That's something.

"Where are you from?" she asks, genuinely curious. A cold mountain climate would explain the thick clothing, although not why his aesthetic is basically 'fancy upholstery.' "Jane, by the way. Crazy Jane."

Based purely on what he's offered so far, there's no reason not to. But the opinion isn't one that most of the people he's known back home would be inclined to agree with. Even if it isn't something that he cares to mention just at the moment. Or ever, for that matter.

"Garlemald, most recently."

He doesn't expect the name to mean anything. It hasn't to any of the other people he's mentioned it to.

"Emet-Selch."

By the fact that he offers this latter after she offers her name, it's presumably his, strange though it might sound.

Whatever people back home think of him, he's been all right so far here. That doesn't mean he's trustworthy, but it does mean she's got no reason to be a dick to him. Hell, there's the possibility that he might even be chill, she doesn't know.

"Cool, where's that?" He's right, Jane has no idea what that means. Not that that matters: he probably has no idea what "Ohio" means, either.

"You okay being called Emet?" She will likely call him that anyway, but at least she's asking permission first?

Chill he can usually manage, by certain definitions. There's nothing and no one that can keep him from being dramatic certainly, but it's a laid-back sort of theatrical. The sort that general doesn't suggest that the individual in question has any burning desire to actually cause significant amounts of mayhem. Not to mention the fact that he is generally willing to answer questions, if asked.

"It lies in the northern reaches of the continent of Ilsabard."

Which will likely also not mean anything. But he offers it all the same, in the hopes that it might sketch out at least a little more of a picture of his home.

...And then she asks about what he might prefer to be called, and he pulls what is very distinctly an unamused face.

"I would rather not be, if it's all the same."

Dramatic happens, Jane knows that. Her type is usually chaotic and uncontrolled and messy, not the operatic type he may sometimes pull, but it's just a fact of life as far as she's concerned. Nothing weird about that.

"Explains the chair. And Ilsabard's on what planet?" If he's an alien, she can handle that.

Jane shrugs. "Selch it is."

"That's hardly any better."

In fact, judging by the expression on his face, he likes it less than the first option she's offered. Whether or not this will actually have an effect on her decision is a question he can't answer - or not with any certainty - but all the same he can't help but offer the comment.

"And when it's called anything, the planet is generally referred to as the Source."

event } lime, coconut, explosions

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