open: a little rain never hurt no one.

[charmoffensive]

WHO: Loxley, Tony Stark, Marcus Rowntree
WHAT: Three awkward ferry rides. (Or more, if I get more tags, but you know.)
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: The Kirkwall docks
NOTES: Tag any of these! I don't mind double ups. This is also just a general catch all post if you want to do something slightly different, or drastically different.

Comments

[propulsion]

It occurs to Tony that if they're not talking about work, they're talking about the weather. To be fair, the weather is happening a lot, a hum of pattering noise off the slopes of the umbrella. The dome itself appears to be made out of some kind of light weight fabric that nevertheless isn't leaking, unlike the breezy silk and lace of gentlelady sun-shaders.

"Linseed, linen, a little finagling. I'd invent nylon but then I'd have to introduce plastics into the environment and I got enough on my conscience. But it's pretty lightweight, for oilcloth. Here,"

and with a little handsy insisting, he'll arrange Mobius to grip onto the umbrella at its curved handle. "See? Not bad. You're the librarian?" asks an independently operating synapse, via his mouth.

[favoriteanalyst]

Rifters are absolutely fascinating. He'd already come into Riftwatch thinking so before he'd ever met any, and the more he learns, the more exciting it is. That their bodies are made of (for lack of a better immediate term) Fade stuff and don't always adhere to the same illnesses or physical laws, or even the opposite where they are particularly afflicted by things that would impact lyrium that would leave anyone else unscathed. That some come from worlds upon worlds upon worlds and that ending up here seems to be just another step in their journey. That each bring new ideas, or old ideas made new here, and try to make improvements.

Stark speaks of nylon and plastic, and Mobius already wants to ask after anything and everything unfamiliar. From what he's heard, Stark is unapologetically a Rifter. Says what's on his mind without bothering to fill everyone in on the details or context. Mobius glances around them quick to see if there is anyone else standing in the immediate vicinity before giving the handle a quick twirl, the water sluicing off with some outward force.

Lightweight but sturdy material, comfy handle. It's the little things sometimes. Associates it with more the upper crust, the tidy dukes who can't bear to get their hair wet or the viscountesses who act like they'd simply perish if they felt the sun, and the servants who hold them up and keep pace while getting all the sun or rain themselves.

Mobius just smiles. Might have to get him one of these. Might have to get everyone one of these. They'll work better than hats anyway. "That's me, self-appointed librarian doing a lot of dusting and organizing. And reading. More than just the tomes there but reports and notes, too. Trying to get caught up on years of work so I don't sound like an idiot when I open my mouth."