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Entry tags:
through the darkness and the light
Who: H.C. Andersen & you!
When: Before embarking on the Dragon's Tree quest.
Where: All over the place, tbh.
What: Andersen campaigning for an arts fund, getting used to being part of society again, generally being his grumpy self.
Warnings: Mild Lostbelt spoilers, nothing major! Will update if anything changes.
1 | THUMBELINA
[Spring brings with it sorely needed splashes of color. In the frozen heights of Chaldea, flowers were nonexistent. With all that their organization had experienced, it was becoming increasingly rare to find any sights of natural life. Aefenglom has fulfilled that need, but Andersen can't feel fully comforted by it. This still, after all, isn't his world.
But that doesn't mean he can't find a bit of diversion for himself. He's gathered flowers that've been thrown away and casts some enchantment on them. Infuse a bit of air into them, and they'll dance as if they were people. He sits on the steps of the flower shop that's so kindly donated their rubbish to him, surrounded by curious bystanders and floating flowers of purple and red and blue, his voice clear and loud:]
"You must not be called Thumbelina any more," said the spirit of the flowers to her. "It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We will call you Maia..."
[The reason for his storytelling soon becomes evident as he begins passing around a hat, which people toss in their tips. A blue tulip, fashioned into the shape of a sparrow, sits atop his head and preens itself.]
No, I don't take requests. I take commissions. If there's a story you want told, you'll have to contact my agent. What's an agent? Ha ha ha! Forget it, just toss me a coin and I'll give you a story that's worth the amount.
2 | THE NORTHERN OUTPOST
[He's to venture beyond the city, anyway. What harm could there be in a quick stop? This is how Andersen winds up at the Northern Outpost as a researcher, lugging a laughably large satchel full of journals and whatnot into the caverns. It becomes apparent he isn't used to rappelling and that he needs help to safely navigate the bowels of the earth. But for all his complaining and pouting, his eyes noticeably light up once they reach the room.]
Look at this place... [He goes straight for a verse etched on the nearest wall, careful not to touch it.] It's going to take hours to capture everything in here.
When: Before embarking on the Dragon's Tree quest.
Where: All over the place, tbh.
What: Andersen campaigning for an arts fund, getting used to being part of society again, generally being his grumpy self.
Warnings: Mild Lostbelt spoilers, nothing major! Will update if anything changes.
1 | THUMBELINA
[Spring brings with it sorely needed splashes of color. In the frozen heights of Chaldea, flowers were nonexistent. With all that their organization had experienced, it was becoming increasingly rare to find any sights of natural life. Aefenglom has fulfilled that need, but Andersen can't feel fully comforted by it. This still, after all, isn't his world.
But that doesn't mean he can't find a bit of diversion for himself. He's gathered flowers that've been thrown away and casts some enchantment on them. Infuse a bit of air into them, and they'll dance as if they were people. He sits on the steps of the flower shop that's so kindly donated their rubbish to him, surrounded by curious bystanders and floating flowers of purple and red and blue, his voice clear and loud:]
"You must not be called Thumbelina any more," said the spirit of the flowers to her. "It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We will call you Maia..."
[The reason for his storytelling soon becomes evident as he begins passing around a hat, which people toss in their tips. A blue tulip, fashioned into the shape of a sparrow, sits atop his head and preens itself.]
No, I don't take requests. I take commissions. If there's a story you want told, you'll have to contact my agent. What's an agent? Ha ha ha! Forget it, just toss me a coin and I'll give you a story that's worth the amount.
2 | THE NORTHERN OUTPOST
[He's to venture beyond the city, anyway. What harm could there be in a quick stop? This is how Andersen winds up at the Northern Outpost as a researcher, lugging a laughably large satchel full of journals and whatnot into the caverns. It becomes apparent he isn't used to rappelling and that he needs help to safely navigate the bowels of the earth. But for all his complaining and pouting, his eyes noticeably light up once they reach the room.]
Look at this place... [He goes straight for a verse etched on the nearest wall, careful not to touch it.] It's going to take hours to capture everything in here.
no subject
A good strategy. Even if the artistic scene in Aefenglom is... underdeveloped, shall we say? That's no excuse for us to slack off. Artists like us live and breathe our craft, and in the absence of a trail, we ought to blaze one!
[He's so enthusiastic about it that he's waggling his finger in the air as he speaks, as if he's presenting before an audience.]
Really, with all the magical shit they're capable of here, I'm disappointed they haven't invented televisions yet.
no subject
It might have to wait until he's done with the next topic, though, because as soon as Andersen mentions television, Momo is doing the old "milking the giant cow" dramatic hand-spready gesticulation that says he's been thinking the exact same thing.]
Right!? I don't know a lot about magic, so I figured I might've just been overestimating how much it can do...but the more I think about it, the Watches can record and transmit video already. How did they figure that out in tiny form before they figured it out in full size form? [He holds his fingers together when he says "tiny" as if to emphasise, then spreads his hands when he gets to the full size. He has a lot of Opinions about this topic.] And the radio half runs on magic too, surely all the experimental witchy types here would jump at the chance to go the next step.