crystals | step one cut a hole in a box

[dissolving]

FORM: Crystals
SENDER: Cedric
RECIPIENT: Friends, Romans, countrymen
NOTES: Complaintiment box

Hey – 's Cedric.

Heard we used to have a box for, uh. Feedback. Set up a new one outside the Mediation office.

If there's aught been bugging you, can put it in there. Won't promise you the moons, but reckon we can at least talk it out. And if there's something gone good, or you seen someone really putting in the work, 's a fine place to say that too. I'll let folks know.

Won't read it for a bit. So if you got a pressing problem, talk to me direct.

Ah. Yeah. That’s all, thanks.

[ muffled: ]

How d'you even say Pizzicagnolo –

Comments

1/2

[dissolving]

[ hundred? surfacer?? hissing??? ]

2/2

[dissolving]

Always someone can make it sound angry, [ kostos. ] Under for... underground?

[aberratic]

Yes! Vazeiros—my father, that's his name—he's drow, a dark elf. I don't think you have them here? I could give a whole long explanation but I don't know that you'd be interested.

[dissolving]

[ oh, settles into a pause. could be for anything, really, but when he begins again it's a little slower. means it: ]

Sure, anything you'd care to.

[aberratic]

[ well now she's self-conscious. ]

Ah... Well, drow are mostly subterranean, they live in what's called the Underdark. Lolth-sworn drow like my father mostly live in Menzoberranzan, but that's a whole... Really, I don't need to give you a history lesson on a people that don't even really exist here. Um.

[ this is rapidly falling apart, oh gods... ]

Drow are various shades of purple, mostly. Vazeiros is kind of a deep amethyst, but you'd never know it to look at me. Or, you'd never have known it, I don't even look like a proper half-elf here at all—

Sorry, I'm rambling. I've never really explained any of this to anyone before, I don't know how to do it.

[delven]

Me neither.

[ but sulfur definitely means sulfur ]

There's a real good map in that big blue atlas in the library, it doesn't cut off at the mountains like some of them. Maybe try that?

[bouchonne]

A bit different from slippers - Regardless. You'll agree that they're quite easy, no?

[cozen]

They are not my puzzles. I am only the messenger.

[dissolving]

As a Byerly, I hear.

[dissolving]

S'pose we're a bit past cheating. when I find it, anything else I ought to look for? Outside the boxes.

[ what's the cool shit ]

[dissolving]

Anything you wouldn't print?

-> private

[dissolving]

'S alright. Dunno if I always do, either.

[ which is why it's a moment's debate before he decides to switch the channel private. if neither of them's a secret, this still isn't a conversation he wants before the peanut gallery.

purple elves, living underground. outlandish, but that's not the point; she feels, knows something's gone wrong. gone strange. not only the magic, then. ]

What were you expecting to see?

[bouchonne]

Indecency. We must be certain only ever to provide the purest of messages, so that maidens don't swoon.

private ∞

[aberratic]

Oh, [ surprised, like she hadn't expected him to keep asking. ] Well, in Faerûn, half-elves take the traits of both their parents, to varying degrees. That usually means pointier ears, if not as pointy as the elf parent.

[ her hand raises, unconscious, toward her own blunted cartilage, then drops once she realizes what she's doing. ]

For me, you could tell I was a half-elf from my ears and eye color, they were purple. [ lavender. not important. ] My skin was, I mean it was more purple than a human's could ever be, but it wasn't terribly obvious. I think my mother's elf coloring canceled out Vazeiros' and the human bits kind of just took over.

Looking in the mirror has been [ nightmarish ] strange. But I know that's just how it is, here. Elfblooded mother with elf father, no matter how many elves are involved you still just look a human.

[bouchonne]

[ He laughs. It's genuine - not mocking. ]

That's very good!

[dissolving]

And th'lads?

[bouchonne]

So that their thoughts don't turn raunchy. Lads do not, of course, swoon. Too manly for that.

[dissolving]

Think we been reading different indecency.

[bouchonne]

I'm talking about pornography. What are you talking about?

[dissolving]

Better kind, if you're not swoonin'.

[bouchonne]

[ A delighted gasp. ]

I thought you were a good lad! Have I been misjudging you?

[dissolving]

War's a lotta standing in place. It makes th'rounds.

[dissolving]

'M sorry,

[ hard enough to land here without looking a stranger. like getting picked up, dropped in some other life. someone else's eyes.

(another piece of it, written in word and fade: that the smallest sliver of humanity, beset on three sides, still bleeds true. not an elf, half) ]

There any bit feels familiar?

[aberratic]

Not really, [ feels a sad admission, but she's not one to lie when it's not needful. ] I keep looking. The technology here is about the same as—as Faerûn, [ not home, anymore, and she's been so careful not to say it, not once, ] the clothes. Magic isn't the same, but we have it too.

But nothing about me is the same. Nothing about elves. I suppose, I wasn't made taller or shorter. I probably weigh the same. But it's as if...

[ she bites her lip, scrubs a hand through her hair as she considers her next words. after a moment, a false-bright voice, pushing down whatever wanted to come next. ]

Sorry. I'm sure this is all a bit much for a random afternoon chat. You're very kind to indulge me.

[bouchonne]

Well, yes, but one need not look. One must make the choice to look. The Maker himself might well have turned His face from us because He glanced over our shoulders and saw we had utter filth in our hands.