shardofwinter: (Wit on the side)
Reynard North ([personal profile] shardofwinter) wrote in [community profile] nexus_crossings2018-02-01 01:19 pm

Why people don't like spirits

The weather has been irritatingly unpredictable this year. Sunny one day, a blizzard the next. It's almost impossible to plan for. Today Reynard has made sure the Nexus is smothered in a thick blanket of snow, and it's nearly perfectly smooth. The Nexus might as well be a different landscape. It's hard to tell what a person is stepping on until they take the chance to wade in. Bins, boulders, benches, street curbs are all probably the most normal things a traveller might find themselves cracking shins and toes against.

At a very strategically chosen point however, some poor people find themselves in a bit of a bother. After getting this far all it takes is one step and they find themselves chest deep in the snow. Struggling will only testify to how packed tight the freezing blanket is. Digging themselves out might be possible, but slow.

It doesn't take long before a sing-song voice comes through the air.

"A house for a five headed creature,
A tool that carves rock and earth,
A measure against misadventure,
A gift often owned from birth."

Reynard walks on top of the snow with his usual confident stroll. He crouches in front of his unfortunate victim, tilts his head and asks, "What am I?"
weathering_it: (Lawrence! You Look Like Shit)

[personal profile] weathering_it 2018-02-01 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Bullshit, bullshit, stupid bullshit! One minute Lawrence is out on what was a perfectly fine day (if admittedly too cold for his liking) shopping for supplies, the next he's ass deep in snow he could never possibly prepare himself for. After cracking his shins on boulders (what the hell, honestly) and tripping on curbs half a dozen times he's had enough.

Half-lying in the snow where he'd last fallen he shouts, "LITTLE BUDDY!" A few seconds later a grunting snout bursts through the surface, and soon the rest of the swinub is standing on top of the snowbank. He eagerly scuttles on over to Lawrence and plops himself onto his favorite human's lap. It's such a wonderful, snowy day that he can't stop wiggling even when he ought to sit still.

"At least someone's having fun," Lawrence grumbles. Then, serious as can be, he holds the piglet between his two gloved hands and says, "Little Buddy, I've got a quest for you. Show me the safest way to a place without boulders and curbs, okay?"

Buddy peeps obediently and dives back in. The path he makes shows at the surface as a zig-zagging line of disturbed powder. Lawrence follows, mercifully pain-free until ––

"Ah!" Oh, great, now he's pits-deep in it! He instinctively tries to dig out, but it's no use. Little Buddy snuffles at his human's hat and squeals in amusement. "This is funny to you, huh?" Lawrence demands, but gets no answer. Instead, he gets a riddle.

"Ugh," he groans. "An Unidentified Frolicking Bast––" He stops short and glances at Little Buddy. He's not supposed to swear around the pokémon. Instead he sighs and furrows his brow. "You're... Above the snow. And I'm not. And if you got me out of here you'd be a pal. How about that?"
weathering_it: (Lawrence! You Look Like Shit)

[personal profile] weathering_it 2018-02-01 09:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"What's –" UGH! This fucking place. It's always riddles this, bad weather that, stupid tricks and schemes and that time he got turned into a woman but nobody noticed because he has no friends.

Lawrence squirms uncomfortably in the snow. "I'll show you a funny trick my robotic hand can do?" He lifts his right hand and wiggles the fingers, but he's wearing a glove. It's not like Reynard can tell whether or not Lawrence even has a robotic hand.
weathering_it: (Lawrence! You Look Like Shit)

[personal profile] weathering_it 2018-02-02 02:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"Wh-- Tha-- That wasn't the trick!"

He hangs his head and sighs. It's pointless. He's probably not negotiating his way out of this. Little Buddy scuttles over by him and tries to root himself in under Lawrence's arm pit. It's a tight squeeze, but he makes it and coos comfortably when he's found his spot.

"What was the riddle again?" Lawrence asks, already emotionally defeated. "I wasn't listening to you earlier."