Doctor, Nurse, Songbird

The Storm Festival season is raging on and there has been more than one wet and stormy occasion to be had. Haru is taking the day off from anything involving knocking his health down to single percentiles in favor of finishing up a handful of accessory projects. The Air Elemental Crystals that have been readily available has made it a good time for Enchanter Life! Excited about one that finished recently, Haru had been chimming Uta to swing on by the tavern so he can show it off.

The tavern isn't much different than the one before the Storm event they did previously. Only this time the only Spriggan of eventfulness is a Slime Affectionato. Haru is minding to himself at an empty table, a series of shallow cups the size of a cupped hand are in front of him. Small precision tools in the form of pliers, hammers, and files neatly sit to his right like they were dinner silverware. His monocle is alight, providing a purple tint and fine white lines as he focuses on putting a gem the size of pebble into an emblem of silver the size of half of a hand's palm.

The door opens, the muffled ostinato pattering of rain becomes a loud roar, the door is slammed closed again. Back to muffled pattering.

Said connoisseur and appreciator of gelatinous creatures (...is a fan of slimes a 'flan'?) steps into the tavern, sufficiently drenched by the inclement weather, dripping along the way: it was good foresight on Gwen's part that her outfit, while looking wet, does not get sticky or become transparent, but somehow keeps its shape and opaqueness -- must have been somehow reinforced with a hidden thin sheet of leather or something underneat?.

She sighs, raises her hands, and-

She notices Haru, and his collection of tools and precision items. "...Uh. Oh." Pause. "Hi!", she smiles, while she lowers her arms, with a slow, hesitant motion. "...I guess I should go somewhere else to generate a downward blast of air to dry myself off", she says, walking towards the Artificier.

"It would be appreciated," Haru admits to what a strong gust of wind might do to the setup he has on the table. Little links would fly everywhere. Some of the powder may fly. What is curious is that in the center of the table is a small seafoam green crystal that resonates with Air elemental magic. It keeps the area clear of static electricity, fair humidity, and protects against minor windspeeds of gentle gusts. Storm season? Not so much. The Artificer says, "I could normally do this out in the field, but Storm Festival season makes that very difficult." He places the gem in the eye of what looks like to be a sort of horse silver emblem. Like a clockmaker, all very precise. The white haired man leans back with an exhale. "Its fascinating stuff. You have to time the movements to that of your breath and even your heartbeat. The force is enough to marr or crush more fragile materials. Copper and Silver are rather forgiving, but if I was working on something exotic or magical?" A shake of the head, "And enchanted crystals? Add in the vibrations. I have to first sync my breathing and beat to theirs and then apply changes to a melody." Its all very dance like in a small microverse of crafting.

"Thanks for coming. I could use the company and we have lots to catch up on!" he says with a smile, relaxing into his chair.

"Funny you mention a melody. Controlling your breath and timing, synchronizing them with your body is also paramount in music and martial marts," she begins, while a small puddle begins to form at her feet. Trickle, drip, drip.

She pushes soaked tufts away from her eyes, sand tilts her head. "You know, what you're doing reminds me a lot of surgery. Been practicing some of that myself-"

She interrupts her own sentence with a sudden snap of her fingers. "Wait, I think I know! Sir?", she calls out to the portly innkeeper. "May I have a bucket please?"

"This early in the night?", he inquires, confused. "You haven't eaten -nor- drunk anything yet, and you don't look like-"

"No, no, just a bucket please. Clean, preferably. Just... trust me!"

While she waits, she places her hands behind her back and leans forward. Her ears tilt slightly upwards. Her wings have never stopped twitching, wanting to shake off all that accumulated humidity like an excitable puppy just out of a swimming pool. A sudden jerking motion betrays her self-imposed self-control. Patience, young Padawan. There are people around. No spraying water everywhere.

"I do love company. So, what is it that we need to catch up on?"

Martial arts. Now that is something that hasn't come up in a minute. In the 'method of' versus 'application of' way. Application of is a bit more common. "The martial arts thing? Yeah, I knew that," Haru perks, going for his mug of stout. "In the 'other' I used to practice it quite a lot. L position of the feet. Circles of kinesthetics with hips, shoulders, arms, even wrists." A tap to his chest. Tap tap. "I went a VERY different direction here. Its kind of frustrating to be so weak when a couple years back my instincts would be far more..." he thinks of the right word, "...physical?" It does harken back that when he couldn't do Wave Artes back in Sher Kar that he defaulted to fencing in melee.

There is a smile to the reference to surgery with Uta. It seems like the stormy weather has wax nostalgia to really float to the surface. "Well I'm trying to balance out the 'times I spend with friends nearly dying' to 'time I spend with friends getting to know them better' ratio. And as far as friends go, you are my top quality friend." Fuka doesn't count. Different category. His blue eye wanders to the staff getting the bucket before it snaps to Uta, one blue eye like sapphires. One purple lens like amethyst. "And like many a thing lately, I am failing at that," he laughs, "so I wanted to know more about the Doctor/Nurse thing." He motions to the surgical applications of jewelry, "This is a good segue as any if it reminds you of the medical field. You got a bit heated about the Nurse slash Doctor topic before. I'd be a poor Accessory Crafter if I wasn't able to spot where there is something precious in the veins of a persona. More importantly, it appeared important to you so I want to know more, if you are willing to share." Simple reasons with nice embellishment around it.

*FWHOMP*

Uta stiffens, her facial muscle tense, her eyes pop open, her teeth become bared, but not in aggressivity, more like in dread. A shiver runs down her spine, and as it zips past the middle of her back, her wings FWHOMP open unrestrained, splashing the equivalent of four umbrellas of water off to her sides. Her elbows pressed against her sides, her balled fists vibrate, perceptibly.

She breathes, quickly at first, short, abrupt bursts of air, until after some time where there could or could not be cold sweat involved (hard to tell with her being drenched), she flicks a trembling finger to open her menu.

An elastic red ball shimmers into existence in her right hand, a ball that is immediately squished in sync with her breathing, with violence at first, then merely with force and further on with firmness as her respiration, over many, many iterations. eases.

Close your eyes, Uta. One last breath in. Deep. Good, like that. Hold it. Empty your mind. Exhale. Deep. Like that. Good Nurse.

"I suppose...", she begins, the ball-holding hand freezing open for the first time. She picks up the bucket, pulls a chair out from under the table, and sits down on it, leaving the bucket to rest at her side. "...I suppose that with the risk of death and memory loss I might as well share some... private aspects of my life. One never knows when someone else knowing might come in handy."

Squishy ball moved to left hand, she swipes her right hand to hover all over her body, while she intones a bubbly, gurgling melody. The humidity flows out of her clothes and hair, a dancing tube of water that follows her movements, and with a final flourish, she draws a coil to collect all of the tube over the bucket. When, with the last note of the melody, she slams her hand down, the hydraulic helix breaks down into a shapeless mass of droplets that splashes into the bucket.

"...there. Now that that's out of the way..." She says. "Where to begin?" She looks up and taps her chin. "...I suppose I could start by mentioning how I'm living the opposite situation as you are -- A gust of wind could easily have blown me over, outside. Or before." Bite lower lip, look up and away. Think. "I got pushed in a very different direction myself. So... uh... you remember how I mentioned that, apart from the name 'Uta', I pretty much randomized everything in character generation?"

Genuine and sincere, Haru gives a nod of his head that his knowledge of Uta's Uta is limited. If someone stopped him in a street trivia game, he would come up less prepared than he should and then neither of them would walk away with a wacky prize. "Yes, that I do remember," Haru says as his finger runs along the wooden table. Sometimes its good to remember the senses till work, even if the table isn't really there. "You picked the name Uta, did a random avatar appearance, random race, class..." he thinks if there was anything not random, "... really everything else. I figured you had a reason for it, but I didn't want to be too invasive." A tap tap on the table, "curiosity is a poor excuse for pushing a friend's boundaries if they want to keep private things private."

A sharp hiss of air inhales into Haru's air hole, "That said. Yeah. Memory loss. With that and how lethal things are becoming, it may be a case of 'things no one will ever know' if we don't take those kind of risks." He wonders, a lazy blink at Uta. Or wink? Its just one eye, its hard to tell. "Ignore the pontification routeen, just gathering my thoughts, please go on," he admits, self-aware of the ramble.

"See, there's a thing you should know about me," Uta begins.

Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release.

"...At times I can be a bit... ah... distracted," she says, as if most people had not already picked up on that already. "You might have picked up on that already."

"Well, the reason why I randomized is that, since I never play games, I really had no idea of what to do. So, random. See, there's a thing you should know about me: at times I can be a bit... ah... distracted. And it happened right then in character generation, as I started-" A pause. Look down, intense, index finger bent in a hook in front of her lips. "No, wait, first I should probably explain why I was playing the game in the first place."

She looks up, "I was playing the game because I never play games," Uta explains, with a resolute nod. Then abrupt switch to the same pensive expression. "Wait, no, I should probably explain why I never play games, first." Think think think. "...I never play games because computers have never been but trouble. So I avoided them like the plague, since Pluto's Kiss devastated the my online college-." A pause. "Oh, yeah! That's it!", she exclaims, punching her fist, in a sort of Eureka moment.

She clears her throat, and all of a sudden, her voice is quiet and somber. "I... I never got to earn my PhD," she mumbles. "Academic records, electronic. Wiped just before I could get any valid degree. Granted, one could- have printed those records in advance, but..." Hesitation. Sigh. "See, there's a thing you should know about me. At times I can be a bit... ah... distracted."

At this point, her leg is bouncing, badly. Her wings are aflutter. A shiver runs down her spine, again. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release.

Breathe.

The iterative focus is not lost on Haru. He picked up on that and started to adapt on the second loop. It is a nonlinear narritive. He picks something up on each loop and puts it to the bigger picture like one of those paintings that are made from shadows cast from another object. His blue eye notices the sort of stress it puts on Uta to go over all of these. Grabbing Kirin by the horns may be a simplier task. He starts with the more approachable topics first. "You were in medical school," the young man anchors to a point, "during Pluto's Kiss?" And a second. He choses down the path of less stress, given how impactful the virus' have been. Their scars are so intimately held by the coals near his own family. Another person burned by them.

"A PhD? I knew you were smart, but thats on a whole 'nother level. What kind of field were you looking to get into? I would guess, lets see, whats the one with microbiology. Is it just Microbiology?" Haru asks, the speed of his voice slowing towards sixty beats per minute. Calming tones. Nice, long breaks as he uses the stress ball as his Uta-o-meter for inquiring about the past.

Silence.

Look down. Quiet. Elbows pressed tightly to her side, knees touching, inching closer to curling up into a ball.

"...Literature."

There is a bit of... no, oddly enough, it's not -shame-. It's more like... guilt?

"I was about to graduate. Basic graduation, mind you. I was only -offered- a position in the PhD program. I had excellent chances to become faculty there, afterwards." She hurries to add, apologetic, "...It was not a prestigious university, mind you. Online only. Paid below average for the job. No clout at all. Plenty of turnover among faculty, eager to leave as soon as anything better came up, and almost anything else was better. But..." She scratches the back of her neck and looks away. "It was good enough for me. Read books. Write papers. Spread knowledge. Teach people."

Squeeze ball. Breathe.

Silence.

"There were some turbulent times after I lost my one chance at graduating, but I eventually managed to find a balance: work, go home, read. Work, go home, read. Buy more books on day off. Repeat. The daily grind."

The squeezing stops.

"It was the same kind of balance as lying still on the ground. I needed out. Out of my comfort zone. But... safely. Baby steps." She tilts her head up, partially, and gives Haru a sideways look. "So... hey, how about you start by confronting your irrational fear of computers? C'mon, nothing bad has happened in forever. There's this new operating system that's pretty much inviolable, and it comes with this cool videogame that's advertised all over the place! It's new year's eve! You get to log in -just- in time to see the expansion! And look, they're advertising you can finally connect to other continents! No idea of what a MMORPG is, but at a first glance, it sounds like the perfect channel to meet people from the European server and discuss reinassance poetry!" She flashes Haru a sheepish grin.

"Hey, I like poetry," Haru says with a snap of his nimble fingers, "Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so." Just don't ask him to do the rest of it, quote the author, or their time period. The snapped hand comes to rest under his chin, holding it there as he watches Uta. Its not easy to go through memory lane, but at least this part of the stroll has some good memories along the thorn bushes. New topics for the tapestry that is Uta. More mental hit points for tougher questions, as he knows how the New Years expansion would have occured.

The next topic highlights more on the phobia, "Were you always afraid of computers? I imagine as a Lit major that you had books so computers were more of a nice to have thing versus a need to have. Turning the page on a book isnt the same as scrolling through a document." Haru can relate to that. "Or did the..." he coughs to clear his throat, "recent decade or so history introduce it? Like with your academic records." At this point Haru feels like he has entered through the gates of Utaland and is curious about all the rides and attractions there. His demeanor is relaxed and attentive like a student in a classroom that has a guest speaker he had interest in.

"For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me...", Uta rattles out, effortlessly, in a surprisingly accurate English accent (with the tiniest, barest hint of a Japanese accent, unless the post-Apocalypse translation effect gets rid of that). Received Pronunciation, to be exact. More an indicator of cultural, rather than geographical, extraction. "Good ol' John Donne. Yes, excellent quote: the style and form of his Holy Sonnets is, indeed, based on the style and form prescribed by Italian Renaissance poet Petrarch!", she exclaims, all excited. Wings spread out, straight back, leaning forward, fists clenched in excitement.

The question about how to deal with technology, howeverm, needs to be addressed: "It was a bumpy relationship," Uta mumbles, hunched over again, hands clasped between her knees. Knees which, simultaneous, touch the back of the hands. "But, you know, online college. It's in the name. Had to use them before Pluto's kiss," she points out." That particular virus was just the last straw that broke the icing on the camel-shaped cake's back."

Uta's face, at this point, is pretty much a test pattern, for those who remember those. One can even hear the whistle.

Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistle.

"Oh. Yes. Character generation. See, there are insistent rumors that the randomizer in chargen is not, in fact, really random. It actually gives you something that suits you."

Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Release.

"I went into the game wishing to get out of a rut. Of a comfort zone. And... well..."

A pause.

"I know my semiotics. This Avatar...", she says, sweeping a hand to her side, to point from her head to her toes. "...got the Doctor profession on the sheet. And a Nurse's uniform."

Uta's eyes, for the first time, make full eye contact with Haru. Dread and drive, dismay and determination, merged together in some sort of abominable yet fearsome alloy. "It knows. It knows I can't bring myself to claim that title I've never earned, that I don't deserve!" Her finger jabs the air next to the table. Jabbing the table might be bad with all the delicate instrumentation lying on it. "It's digging up the skeletons in the horizontal underground closet- wait, no, it's more of a ghost in the past. And... isn't a horizontal underground closet technically called a coffin?"

She stays there, hand on her lips, looking up and away, musing on this deep question. Then her eyes lower again. Hands clasped, between her knees. "...In any case -- A nurse. I know nurses who are as capable as doctors, if not -more- than doctors... and yet, they lack the latter's certification." Then, mumbled, "Much like those people who read a lot of books, but don't pass exams to prove they did."

Uta sighs, and leans back on the chair, much like Haru did at the beginning. Head thrown back, she stares up at the ceiling, while her ears flatten downward as much as her muscles allow. "I don't know if the generator offered me the obvious alternative of a nurse as an act of further prodding, or mercy..."

She raises her head slightly, and her pupils rotate to gaze at Haru, while she bites her lower lip. "...perhaps both?"

Oh old english poetry. Fort Soothes. Haru idly wonders if the libraries here in ETO have a collection of them or if it is to local lore of the land and Landers. "John flippin Donne," is what he offers with the admiration one might say for Samuel L flippin Jackson.

Technology. Now that is quite the topic. Haru smooths out the blue jacket arm of the material slung over his tavern chair. Technology was meant to make our lives better. It is a tool. People use tools. When tools use or abuse people, it starts to drift. There has been plenty of that in the past couple decades. "Computers brought us the reach of putting education out far and wide," Haru observes in a quiet tone, "but it also brought us..." He isn't sure how to even describe Flash of Death or Pluto's Kiss, "...those events."

Test Pattern! Haru's gaze stops wandering around the tavern and snaps to Uta's like a new player pressing the start button. "So your theory is that it is not a random generator, but a chaos generator? And even then, the amount of chaos is still influenced?" He thinks about thatfor a moment. Is it possible? What would it take to make it possible. "The software is certainly possible. Anything is. The limitation of that normally would come in the amount the hardware could process. Technology does leaps like that. Its why when you look at older games they deploy tricks like reducing how far you can see with mist, but newer ones could render the full amount." Thats not the point, though, as he goes with full eye contact with Uta. Well, eye and monocle contact. "So it would be generic enough to help us fill in the gaps. Like a horoscope. 'Your love life is looking rocky, see to explore the new and forgive the old' doesn't exactly mean 'Fuka isn't connecting with you, forget about the missed fires and try fifty percent more candles'." He waves a hand out, "Not that it is the case," he rumbles. Probably should have tried a job horoscope version.

"I... uh... know a lot about microprocessing. Not everything, mind you, and Piffle is lightyears ahead so it wouldnt surprise me if Dive technology shifted things to invalidate this claim, but if the algorithms picked up on something, the point is it would be high level and then enumerated until it landed on Doctor versus Nurse." He shakes his head, "Its not a romantic notion, a bit clinical, but if it helps in a tool to in the toolchest, I do believe it." A hand runs through his white hair, as if brustling the strands will help him think. "But the heart of the matter I think, or rather I feel, is a positive one."

Both hands rest on the table as he watches Uta's brain go overclock mode. "You came here to get out of your comfort zone. You came here to break your routeen. You came here for another chance. Its a brave thing, Uta. How many heroes and heroines come across the same? And are they not flawed, imperfect? Courage is the mastery of fear, not the absence of." He pauses, "Mark Twain, I believe, also an author. What you have done with this chance is nothing short of remarkable. Slimes. I don't think anyone would have taken such an interest, and look at it now. The lore into the Songcrafting? And that is on top of your health, both physical and mental, being provided to others." There is a smile as he calls Uta just short of a National Treasure. If he did that, Nick Cage might appear to swoosh her away. "I'm not happy to hear my friend went through such hardships, but I am happy to know they are part of the early chapters that led to this one. This one is a good chapter. I'm hooked, can't wait to see how it continues."

"Those events. They were...events," Uta replies at the mention of the viruses.

"But enough dwelling on that. Besides, I should not be the one to whine here. I've met people who, unlike yours truly, have lost family, have lost loved ones to the Flash of Death. Those have it worse than me."

"...I don't have a -specific- theory, but. Yes. Chaos. Chaos is the right word. Not necessarily the destructive Chaos... posisbly the artistic chaos. The dive into the deep, dark recesses of our subconscious. Into what we are unable, or unwilling, to control. The dark dungeons of our mind, where we shackle our bogeymen, our fears, the side of ourselves we are not allowed to face."

Again, sink into a pensive state, chin pointed down, brow furrowed, fingers rubbing at the side of her mouth. "...Or maybe that's just me. A lot of people probably just got a Coolguy McCoolface avatar they are happy with."

Eye contact, it has to be noted, was maintained almost all the way through when Haru spoke to Uta about his theories on the generator. "I don't know much about microprocessors, myself," Uta admits, with a light shrug, spreading her arms sideways in the universal gesture of surrender to ignorance. "But as you point out, do they really -need- to do the work? As far as we know, it might be that the Dive Gear makes our own brain do all the work. Prod our subconscious come up with its own visual symbolism. Like we do in dreams. And then just pick up the result, call it 'mine', and feed it right back at us."

Eye contact is harder to mantain when Haru comes up with encouraging words. There is some genuine surprise at Haru's words. She is left silent afterwards, face still pointing at her interlocutor, but eyes wandering all around while, hands on her knees, she searches for words. "It... Thank you. It means a lot. But..." Another pause. "I still don't know how real my achievements are, to be fair. It's a videogame. As far as we know, the difficulty level of the slimes and the lore might have been set up so that a tired businessman with a brain reduced to pulp by an exhausting workday could comfortably achieve them after a few casual sessions." She inhales, and despite her attempts at not letting things get to her head, she concedes, "You are right about one thing: true strength lies not in success, but pushing on in the face of failure. That is a defining trait of a hero, and that is why they are given as inspiration to the rest of us: it is hard for something good to come for free."

She then looks down and away, with a sigh, "About my mental health... see, there is a thing you should know about me."

She turns back to Haru, inhales, opens her mouth, raises her finger...

"...No, nevermind. It's not important," she dismisses, with a flick of her hand.

She takes some seconds to reflect, then shifts her posture to try and sit back in a neutral, composed manner. Despite her attempts to playing it cool, it's clear she's flattered by Haru's compliments. The wings don't lie.

"I'm happy to have a friend," she replies. "Let's see where the story goes."

There is this nod of the head from Haru that is faint and repeated. Like a gentle breeze that plays against him causing a bobble as his gaze goes distant. The sort of effect when a lot of thoughts come at you at once. Flash of Death. It was a thing and the ripple effects will be studied for generations. There is a slow blink and it is gone and his blue eye refocuses on Uta's chaos theory. "I've only met a few that are truly happy to be here," Haru offers to anchor himself back into the present. "Even the people that are enjoying themselves the most still are wrestling with the idea that being here isn't their choice. Humanity gets pretty fickle about its free will being toyed with." A tap on the table to drum the idea out, "although I can't say I am unhappy with my avatar's looks. Doing so would be very," he pauses for the right word, "healthy? I am more frustrated with my avatar's limitations. Then again," he looks to the assembled small bowls with accessory components in them. Wire. Rings. Beads. Gems. "Accessories are supposed to draw out what is already there." His take on it, at least.

"No," Haru admits that the microprocesses don't need to do all the work, "in theory biological microprocessors are possible too. Thats above my pay grade. I was a college student, not a biophyisicist. The gap could be so wide that any of my assumptions are moot, but," he taps on the table again, "the theories start somewhere and they grow through experimentation and reproduction of the trials." Very clinical indeed. "Not that we can get that far without looking at the source code and its associated hardware calls. The answer would as simple as seeing how and where it is pulled. It could use our brain. I mean, technically, we could all be part of a mesh network of computing and our brains are being used in the petaFLOPs and beyond to do something as difficult as sustain the world we are in. It would explain why we can't die and the memory loss."

"Encouragement is hard to hear, isnt it," Haru understands, on a different topic, "kinda feels like rain against a glass window pane. Its every bit as real but all you can do is put your hand to the glass to feel the drumming against the pane or the soothing coolness of it. Its not the same as if your hand was feeling the raindrops hit it, exactly, but over time their intent comes through." A pause, "So forgive my insensitiveness on the topic. I'm listening. Its also hard not to be inspired by everything you've accomplished, truly."

There is something Haru should know. "That you get distracted easily," Haru offers on the topic of Uta's mental health. There is a wink. He knows that wasn't it. Not all of it. "You can tell me about it whenever you want or keep that tease a mystery. My tease reistsance is getting master class thanks to one Sylph." He isnt going to let the topic slide off that easily, though, he does want to know. "Confiding in a friend sometimes lessens the burden, is all I know, and these days our strength is going to come from the bonds of sharing the trials and triumphs of each other's lives." He rolls through his menu quickly and taps a button to produce a small white box. "Thats what living is, isnt it? Not quite a Cogito, ergo sum, but I dont think Descartes had this in mind during his meditations." The box is slid over to Uta. Its a small gift box.

"That is a good point," Uta concedes. "Was Descartes, when he was thinking, aware that he was both being and thinking? Or was he too busy thinking of the therefore to consider the being and the thinking??"

See, there is a thing one should know about Uta: she gets distracted easily. She leans back, ears perking up in delighted surprise. Wings do likewise. "A box? For me?" She even points at her own nose.

Considering how there seems to be nobody else it could be for, assuming the box needs unwrapping, she unwraps the box with the due restraint (but barely so. It's a present! Exciting!). And slowly opens the box, to reveal-

"It's... beautiful..." she says, as she lifts the chain with care with one hand, and places the other underneath the pendant to lift it to her eyes. She stands there, in admiration. "The chiselwork is exquisite." A frown. "Chiselwork? Chiseling? Chiselation?" She turns to Haru, brow furrowing harder, eyebrows lowering further: "...did you even use a chisel? I am no Accessory Forger, I wouldn't know." But back to admiring the necklace she goes. "It's a hook. With birds. What birds? Hummingbirds? What are they humming? The hook? The hook of a song- Songbirds! They're songbirds!", she exclaims looking up at Haru. She gets up, and, pendant held in one hand with the chain slung over across the fingers and dangling down the other side, she walks over to give Haru a playful punch on the shoulder. "Did Fuka put you up to this?"

She might be playing tough, but she's flattered.

The wings don't lie.

Haru is all too happy to go into the tools and methods of Jewelery crafting. It has been an adventure in itself during the first year following the Apoc event. "Its very nuanced when it comes to lapidary, so don't worry about it. A lapidary is an artist that works with stone, minerals, or gemstones, but it does not 'verb' well. In fact," he hisses in air through his teeth like one might do when touching a hot coal, "made that mistake. Lapidation does have to do with stones, which lapis is the root of, but in the sense that you stone someone to death." A pause. "For adultery generally." And these have been fun Jewelery Facts with Haru! But wait, there is more. "Cutting is the general term, or gemcutting to soften it a bit. There is also faceting, polishing, and inlaying, but the cut is the hard part, especially with small precision tools. Remember how we were talking about the synchronizing? Thats where it comes into play. The lapidary hammer, chisel, and lapidary himself have to be in sync or it can destroy the gemstone." He enjoys his craft quite a bit from the look of it.

A smile, "Yes, songbirds!" Haru is glad those worked out well. He is good with jewelry but is not an Artisan of paint or sculpture. Then he is slogged, leaning a bit dramatically. "Nope. I can say I did this as a complete and independant activity. She doesn't know and doesn't strike me as capable of getting jealous so Im pretty sure Im in the clear there." He pauses. "Pretty sure. I don't mass produce any jewelery for profit. I'll do a few here and there to afford materials, since they get expensive, but I am no merchant either so I don't get great rates. Most of my Adventuring has been to afford and find materials to work with. It started that way, at least, but now the currents of fate have taken me in a different direction." Right, he didn't explain the important thing. "I make these because they bring me joy and if I'm fortuante, they bring the person that has it joy, as well. Its the one thing I really settled on when I started here. I wanted to make things that added happiness to the world instead of suffering." It is a little insight to why he gets so irrate about large scale cnflicts. About the war in general. He plays back by giving Uta a poke in the side, "Can't change the world, but you can put your all into making it a little better in the ways you know how."

"Don't forget the lapis lazuli. That's also etymologically related," Uta segues from Haru's discussion. "And- well, yes, I am feeling a bit in debt now. It's already the second item you make for me, I should reciproc-ow!"

Uta jolts off to one side as she'spoked, the ow more of a playful preprimand than an actual expression of pain.

Silence falls. A second, two, three pass, with Uta's hint of a smile widening to a full one.

A miniature magical barrier of stone materializes on her side, over the spot where Haru poked her a few moments ago. It crumbles to dust.

"Thank you," she says. She bows her head in gratitude, and the movement conveniently turns her face to point at the necklace she's holding once more. Serious, she takes in the item for quite some time, the pendant in particular. Her eyes go all over it, the gem, the little details, the shadows, the highlights, the way it reflects the light. The ensemble.

...and then, after much consideration, she nods with a smile, and slides the chain around her neck. "You're good, Haru. Have you considered speaking with Gwen? Joining forces? I don't think she can make accessories, and since she is as passionate about fashion as you are about making accessories..."

By now, Uta is staring straight down at the pendant, a bit cross-eyed, and and it doesn't take her long to realize she's probably not observing the item from the best vintage point. She returns to look at Haru. "How does it look?", she asks, one finger aimed at the little hook.

The good old Lapis Lazuli. There are sparks behind Haru's blue eye just thinking about it. The state of his eyes and monocle could even be a reference to the earliest gemstones, the lazuli and amethyst. That would be overthinking it, though, the monocle is a relic. "If you ever think that its an uneven 'trade', remember that you share knowledge and sparring practice with me, freely, as well. The later saved my life yesterday so there is no price tag one could place on it," Haru says sincerely. "Crafting is a labor of love. If I were to attempt this in the 'other' it would be hounded by disapproval. So in that, the things I make get to be their best versions of themselves as do I. Nothing to feel guilty about." The dreaded gift guilt. Especially when the item is such a lavish item. It inspects as a cosmetic only item, though, nothing artifice level with attributes.

The Artificer turns to Uta fully where he sits. He is pretty tall, so it works for an appraisal. "Lets see here," he rolls a finger along the polished silver of his amethyst monocle. Semicircles begin to form on the lens, fine crystaline white against the purple. "Says here that it looks gorgeous, just like its owner," he says academically. That one was for Fuka, as she isn't there to give the Spriggan a tease so he will have to wear the mantle. The finger rolls over the monocle, grinning. He knows that'll get a reaction, so he waits for it.

On the topic of Gwen, after, the white haired young man takes a deep breath, "You know, I have been meaning to get in touch with both her and Wake. I helped the later move people to the Tower and get the sense she is very much the heart of those under her care. Gwen, too, but I think its my natural aversion to Light thats kept me from asking." He doesnt get too much into the Light thing, its a whole different topic. "But I think is way overdue. Less dungeon crawl for the Hunters Guild. More pub crawl with a fashion quest slant." A finger snaps, "And I still need to sign up for the Duelist league, assuming that the League is still active in wartime."

Playful punch airlines would like to welcome passengers to our flight. Destination: the coastal city of Shoulder, in the picturesque peninsula of Noodle Arms. Population: previous playful punch.

"Fuka is a bad influence on you!", Uta blurts out, as if she had no idea of how to deal with a such a compliment and 'punching people' was the first thing that came to mind in a moment of panic.

Quick, quick, play it cool! Change of subject! "I have not checked, but I suspect the Duelist League would have even more reason to promote its services with the war. Encourage Adventurers to spar. As you say, the more practice we get, the better."

"You should definitely get in touch with Wake. Highly recommended." And then, some pause. "You know, now that I'm no longer trying to fight my inner monsters," No, they're not slimes. No inner slimes. Shut up, "I've realized there also seems to be an interesting story wanting to be told on your side as well." At this point, she's been slowly leaning over to Haru, to take a better look. And squint a bit. "Glimpses. Hints. Dropped. On purpose or otherwise. Little details. They tease. Like a Fukaziroh in a good mood."

She pulls away, but just by the tiniest amount. "But, as said, that's for another time. Today, in a single meeting, we've already accomplished so much. You got your explanation, I got a present..." She hooks one index finger around the thin chain of the necklace, just over the eyelet, and pulls it up to tilt the pendant, and display the two winged figurines and the gem towards Haru: "...two birds with one stone."

Warning. Noodle arm integrity reaching critical pass of playful duress. Deploying hand rub on affected region immediately. Haru grins deservingly of that. "No objections there. Like a swarm of fireflies made of hot embers," he says in his faux poetic way of describing people or events when he is in a particularly good mood. Fuka definately draws out the teasing, flirting, and pun-stering in him. He grows thoughtful as he declares, "Then I have three things on my to do list. One, sign up for the Duelist League. Two, proposition Gwen for a joint project." There is a pause. Was proposition the right word? He moves on! "Have tea with the Baroness and see what her current projects are."

There is a slow blink on the idea of his demons. Haru has them. Certainly. He just never expected anyone to take an interest in them. He is left a little off guard. "Oh, yes," he says at a tap of the table. An aversion to gaze as Uta leans in. Squint and stare might as well be the Doomguy's rip and tear as Uta finds a way to tease him accidentally. "I suppose there is. And I wouldn't mind sharing it, not at all," he just didn't picture a scenario in which he did. Thats what his demon does. It devours those things. "But! There is something to be said about pacing, two birds and one stone is enough exposition for a sitting." The young man takes his terms from the books that they both love. "My master plan is to finish this up by tonight," a hand stretches across his makeshift table, "to honor Fuka's recent communion with Kirin. There isn't anything she can't do." A deep breath and an exhale of admiration there, too.

"It's safe to say 'proposition' around me. Make sure you don't in front of Morri, her mother. She -really- wants grandchildren." Eyebrow raise. "Really does."

"Fair enough. It's not like I've shared everything. Overshared, possibly. But there's still- wait, ait, rewind there a moment." Uta shakes her head. A double take. "What did Fuka do again?!"

Haru sweatdrops. Grandchildren! Haru leans in, "Is that even possible? This is a," he circles around the landscape they are in, "non-biological world. Isnt it?" He leans back and starts to wonder if that line of thought has been a touche naive. Blue eye goes to the left. On one hand, there are Landers. Landers have been around for more than one generations. Eye goes to the right. There are Adventurers. But they can't be generational, they have only been here for certain years. Then they settle back on Uta. "I... hmm... both do and do not wish to know."

Then again, Uta is easily distracted. Kirin! Haru motions over to what he is currently working on. At the moment it is a circular disc that would fit well at the bottom of an axe haft, right where the cap is. There is an engraving of a divine horse on it that is still being carved out. "She communed with Kirin. Thats what Proph said, at least. Kirin was attacked by a Palace Lander that went toe to toe with it. We intervened, Kirin was spooked, Fuka went over ot it to calm Kirin down. Kirin calmed down and gave her a sort of sparkle eye thing. Fuka seemed pretty excited about it. I thought I was about to watch her become dust." A head shakes at that. "Yeah, not one of our greatest moments together. The other being nearly being one hit pixelated by an attack the size of a house." A deep breath. Exhale. "So, not an exaggeration when I say the sparring practice was life saving. Moments slower and I would be at a Church. Meanwhile, Fuka took a more direct approach." He runs a finger along the silver. "But she knew what she was doing. Pretty sure she did. Animal was scared, she wanted to sooth it."

"Whether they are or not, Landers behave very much as if they were biological," Uta states, matter of factly, while she adjusts her nurse's cap. "As far as that kind of business is concerned, they work just the way you'd expect us humans to outside of ETO. As a healer, I had to deal with a lot of medical cases involving pregnancy, childbirth, and child development." After that, her shoulders slump, and she shrugs. "No data on us Adventurers. Either option is still open. We don't know what is going on with us." Lean towards Haru with a squint, ominous. "But that has never stopped Morri." One can almost see the background going dark.

"I've heard that Divine Beasts inspect as 'I'. That makes them... iman, I suppose? Sapient beings like you and I? Probably not animals? Hm. We should look into the exact semantics of these words.", she comments, as a commentary to Haru's use of the word 'animal' in the last sentence. Here's her inner academic showing. Property of language.

There is a shudder, then fascination as the tale of the Palace Landers attacking the Kirin is told, and as the various developments involving Fuka are related. "...well. That... that is something I wouldn't have expected no. Wow. Congratulations to Fuka."

More thought. "If the duelist league takes you, we should definitely spar again. I was almost murdered by a Palace Lander that time we were delivering supplies to Aincrad. I need the practice myself. And if they aren't active..." A shrug, a grin. "Well, I suppose we spar outside the official circuit?"

Having recently ran across Kirin, Haru can confirm one of the Divine Beasts, "Kirin did inspect as I. So did the other person that was attacking Kirin, a Julius, who was somewhere between testing us and..." At the core of it all, the Artificer does not know. "... I can only guess what the objective was, honestly. No one died, so there is that." It takes a second for it to dawn on him that he used the term 'animal'. "Ah. Yes, I guess Kirin isn't much of an animal, are they? More an appearance." A tap to the current work in the silver, "Very much congratulations to Fuka." His tone is a bit flat. The whole thing comes with mixed thoughts and feelings to it that go past the facade, but the facet of the gem he choses to show is excitement. It is no small feat and should be celebrated in great excess!

"The sparring with you gave me a lot to consider. One part of it is time, which fortunately is always moving forward," Haru says with a smile on his face. Another faceted response. "Not as fast as I prefer," and he is more open to the nuances on that one, "but I think that could be said for most people looking to become stronger. The important part is strong enough to defend yourself like we did during that supply delivery." That day the both of them pleaded a cease fire on the thread of a trip to the Church. It happens to him more frequently than he cares to admit. Some facts from his other life that still apply here. You do not need to be a warlord, but you do need to know self defense. He realizes he dodged a topic earlier and sheds a bit of light on the topic with held earlier, "Ask me about it sometime. The self defense thing, it'll be good code to asking about all this mystique going on around here." He makes a circle around his personage, an invitation to inquire at a later date being only fair after all Uta shared about herself today.

The league and sparring return as a topic, "Then you should go get well rested, lest I catch you off guard and I win by putting you to sleep." He laughs, thinking of the last duel. As an Enchanter, his tactics are very debuff. Victory by sleep. It could happen. "We can chat more in the morning. Sometimes I think the only people that slow down enough to have a real talk are people like you and Fuka, but I know thats not true. I'll pester Wake and Gwen some to." A pause, "And I'll do my best to avoid Morri. That... may cross a line with Fuka." Casual child siring.