hugtopia_logs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

♥ Who: Magolor and eeeeveryone (who wants in)
♥ Where: Chillin' outside the housing complexes
♥ When: One fine day in the beginning of August/Achtom
♥ What: Everyone loves a good survey, and even if you don't, you're all getting one anyway.
♥ Rating: G, no warnings here
♥ Note: I'm happy to match your preferred format, so proceed as you wish!

[Could Magolor have done this over the network? Of course. Maybe people would have appreciated that more. But that's not how he chooses to go about this: over the network, he'll be easier to ignore, and that's no good. And over the network, he can't give anyone any earnest handshakes or touches on the shoulder to contribute to his bank account, I mean, the wellbeing of this planet! Praise Diacht!

So instead of ringing up the populace to ask for their input, he's doing this old-school.

Upon leaving their houses today, anytime between midmorning and late afternoon, any character is subject to being hunted down and approached by a perky little hovering alien with a clipboard and pen in his hands. He's pretty fast in waving people down, and pretty relentless:]

Helloooooo~! Won't you spare me just a moment? I promise not to keep you! You'll be glad you did. This is for the good of our community, and I can't do it without your help!

[He at least sounds and looks very earnest about this, like a bright-eyed canvasser on their first day on the streets.

Or maybe it's something else. Maybe you've seen him lurking out there for hours now and want to give him an earful, or like, a snack or something, which would be much appreciated. Maybe you have some bone to pick with him. The world is your oyster! He sure is making himself obnoxiously visible.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This he doesn't write down; he only looks up from his notepad curiously.]

Still, there's no reason to suffer through that again in a peaceful place like this, right? We're pretty lucky here so far on that front.

[ reyson nods. ]

Still, I do not mind. I am strong enough.

[ this is a lie, a weighted feather could knock reyson out. ]

So should I write that down? "Mr. Stoic doesn't need aaaanything from you! He may be sick, but he's doing just fine!"

[He giggles behind his scarf, pen poised.]

[ reyson huffs, wings flaring. ]

I am not sick!

[He pretends to write that down:]

He falls ill and it isn't conducive to his kind, but he's also fine and not sick, got it . . .

[But then he laughs again, hand to his mouth.]

Hehe, just kidding. But it's a good thing I'm here to try doing you a favor, because you seem like the type who doesn't do any for yourself.

That — That is most certainly not what I said!

I could have sworn most of that came out of your mouth! But you know, it's been a long day. I'm working hard without a break . . . I could be hearing things.

I merely have other things to care about. I rather be productive.

Can I ask with what? I just did! You piqued my interest. What are you working on?

[ hmm. ]

Herons help with nature. If there is an imbalance, we seek to fix it.

No wonder they dragged you in, then. We're all here to fulfill that role. Supposedly, anyway.

[He shrugs again, with a mild, smiling expression. Magolor may not be incredibly suspicious of the motives of the natives, but neither is he entirely trusting of them. It is all pretty wild.]

In this case, that means you're going around giving mad hugs, hmmmmm?

[Also, he can guess this is not at all the case.]

[ reyson huffs. ]

Not likely. As if I'd let anyone touch me so egregiously.

I guess I'm not surprised, from someone so serious . . . how about holding hands?

[He offers his, tucking his pen into his scarf so he can extend one disembodied hand to Reyson, palm up.]

Pretty easy in comparison. It's funny that "balancing nature" is this simple for us, when it's impossible for them.

[ reyson purses his lips but presses his hand to magolor's. if he can feel weigh, he would be able to tell that reyson's hand is as light as a feather. ]

I've just never been comfortable with . . . touch.

[He clasps onto Reyson's hand, not too tightly—not obnoxiously, but firmly enough, and he doesn't immediately let go, either. He just leaves them loosely linked like that. Magolor wears gloves, but even through those, he can sense well enough.]

These natives really didn't do much research into us as individuals either, did they? If that party was anything to judge by, you're in good company there.

It did seem rather stilted.

[ reyson did have a dance, at least. ]

Plenty of wallflowers at that thing. With all this, though, I'm sure you'll all soften up eventually. And I don't mind helping out with that! It's all for the greater good ♥

[And as such, he's going to keep this handclasp going on until he's forced to stop, just standing there casually while they chat.]

If not this, what are you working on? How does balancing nature work for your people?

We sing. Our songs heal plants, animals and people alike.

That's some impressive magic. You know I have to ask to hear a verse or two! Just for fun?

[ hm. on principle, reyson dislikes performing for others. still, it was asked sincerely and reyson had no real reason to deny him.

he takes a deep breath before singing his galdr. the words don't mean anything to magolor, but he would feel it in his soul. like a richness coming to life. the air feels less stale, the colours seem brighter. even the greenery seems to shiver in delight. ]

[Ah . . .

However he acts, which is often and exaggerated, it's rare for Magolor to truly be emotionally affected by anything. The world can only penetrate so deep in him before it hits the carefully constructed wall around his core. But there is no resisting this feeling. After a few moments the smile begins to slide off his face, and his ears twitch, trying to decide without asking his brain whether to perk up to better hear or lower in deference. A part of him hates it burningly, in the same way he hates everything that loosens his grasp on his self-control—but even that is drowned out by the peace that seems to blanket both him and the world around him. For just these few minutes he could be back on Pop Star sleeping in the grass under the sun on his lunch break, stuffed with good real food that didn't come from a machine and doesn't taste like a meal run back and forth through Google Translate.

It takes him a couple of beats to realize the song has ended when it does. This is where he'd normally applaud. Bravo! But instead, he needs to rejoin reality.]

. . . I see . . .

[ reyson doesn't mind the reaction or lack of it. everyone reacts to the galdr differently. sometimes pain bleeds through. sometimes they feel refreshed. in every way, it touches the soul. ]

Are you all right?

Who, me?

[Who else? But they're just words he says to buy time while he pulls himself together. And he does, quickly enough—his expression lifts again into a smile and he begins to clap. Like usual. Phew.]

Bravo! That was so touching I was at a loss for words . . . ! And that's me, so that's saying a lot!

Thank you.

[ though he says that in a flat tone. reyson doesn't see innate ability as something to be praised or proud of. he was born with it, why should he be commended for it?

still. he wonders. ]

You can say if you disliked it. The galdr touches everyone differently.

[He waves one hand as if dispelling any doubt, or maybe the rest of his lingering mixed feelings.]

I don't disbelieve you, but it's hard to imagine what anyone could dislike about it!