( open ) summertime,

[periastron]

WHO: Alexandra, D’Artagnan, Fingon, Kylo Ren, Rey & open
WHAT: brave camp-anions assignment: members of Forces test Inquisition camping gear on the rough terrain and weather of the Wounded Coast, others can come by and laugh at their struggles and applaud their victories (lol)
WHEN: vaguely June
WHERE: Wounded Coast
NOTES: set up your starters, assigned campers! and feel free to come visit the campers.

Take a quick trip outside the city to test Inquisition tents, and try building your own shelter.
What’s easy to set up? What holds up well against the weather? Does anything need repairs?
Did you figure out the ideal ‘smore ingredients, or ghost stories to demoralize the enemy? Team bonding!!!

Comments

a.

[utulien_aure]

On general principles, it's tempting to ask what the original version of the song she's singing was- but judging from the epithet perhaps there are more pressing concerns at the moment.

"Are you all right?" Fingon turns to her and asks. It sounds as though it's just the equipment which took the brunt of the accident, but he might as well be sure.

[periastron]

"I," she starts, voice muffled, "am fucking fantastic." Considerably less lyrical than before, yep.

She has a red lash mark across her cheek. "That thing there, that came undone and kinda whipped back and," she gestures to the angry red mark with a flourish, "now I'm looking extra flash, yeah?"

Looking up at Fingon, she shrugs helplessly. "I feel like this world needs to be introduced to the concept of—"

Wait, hang on. "Do you know what an RV is?"

[utulien_aure]

Fingon’s spent near five hundred years a soldier, he’s heard worse.

“Nothing a little ice won’t fix,” he tells her, “Though for now, cold water might suffice.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve not heard the term. Something from your world?”

[periastron]

"Thank God I have no cold water at all, then." She says it brightly, for all her inherent grump and snark. There's a sort of wryness to it, more than unpleasantness. Looking around her, Alex picks up a smooth rock from the shade, and holds it up victoriously. "Oh, snap. Here we go."

This is not going to help, even remotely.

"It's like... a little house on a carriage. I guess like a caravan, except heaps souped up. There's plumbing, and everything."

[utulien_aure]

Fingon grins and reaches for his pack, currently sheltered in the shadow of tree. After a few moments he pulls out a strip of cloth and a canteen. “Not exactly ice,” he acknowledges before handing them to her, “but they’re better than nothing.”

“That sounds convenient,” he snorts, while eyeing the stone, “ And cleverer than most camping, if you like the comfort. Now what are you going to do with that?”

[periastron]

"I was thinking I could tell myself the rock was ice because it's solid and slightly cool," she replies, as if that's a thing that totally makes sense to do.

A pause, considering. "I'm a lot better at looking after animals than looking after me, admittedly."

[utulien_aure]

"Stone drinks in heat, I'm afraid. Hold it against your skin and before long it will be as warm as you are," Fingon tells her, not unsympathetically.

"Some of the same principles apply. We are flesh and bone, the same as they are. And of course," there's a glint in his eye as he looks at her, "sometimes they look after us as well."