B1, Day 2 [public channel]

[whattaprick]

[ There are a lot of things people need to do right now: help the Prince's servants get resettled, get started on figuring out who can work on a cure for the petrification, deal with the trauma of dying in a hopefully healthy and non-self-destructive way, show the new people the ropes of what the Carnival has to work with.

Instead, in the morning of the second day since the Prince was defeated, anyone on the radio gets this: ]

So, I've been wondering.

[ The Nightrider's voice, for those who recognize it, has definitely been better. It's a low, hoarse rasp, and the pause at the end is not just for effect, but to actually catch his breath. ]

Just how old is everyone here, anyway? Here, I'll start. I'm ... pretty sure I'm almost sixty. [ A beat. ] ... Maybe.

[ Why did anyone let this man have his radio back again? ]

[ ooc; Lambert's flat on his back in the medical tent for this, feel free to bug him in person and threadjack each other at will. ]

Comments

[kingsroads]

The point still stands! I'm— [ a pause, for quick mental math ] I'm over seven times as old as you are!

[ he is rooming with a literal five year old, this is making Jonathan "thirty-seven years old" Strange a TEENSY BIT DISTRESSED RIGHT NOW. ]

[chronosynthesis]

So you are... [He stops to actually count it out.] More than thirty-five years, correct?

[Syrlya isn't terribly bothered by the prospect that Strange is much older than him, because Actual Children are also often older than him and there's no way he's letting them wield any sort of age-driven authority.]

I understand it's surprising when you aren't acclimated to my people, but... my father, really?

[kingsroads]

I'm thirty seven, I think, [ Strange grumbles, a little bit under his breath. Time got weird in the darkness, so Strange honestly isn't sure how he is now. Somewhere around thirty-seven's good enough. ]

And yes, your father. You can't help but think of these things when— [ when you and your wife were trying for that baby ] —when you reach a certain age.

[chronosynthesis]

[Can't relate, he literally can't have children.]

I hope that isn't telling about what you think of me. [There's a pause as he considers whether to try and explain it better, or just tease Strange again when he's completely hung up on this age difference.]

You are older than my entire race. [Guess it's the latter.]

[whattaprick]

Seriously? How?

[chronosynthesis]

A tree cannot begin to blossom until it is mature enough itself.

[... That's literal.] We are likely the first of any such life in Tyria. We awaken mature, after all, so the Firstborn have had thirty years to establish our presence with the other races.

[This is a long time to him.]

[whattaprick]

You don't look like much of a flower. [ She'll take that literally. ] Also, does that mean you'll wilt after you--

[ Polecats don't have eyebrows to waggle, but her voice implies if they could, they are. ]

[chronosynthesis]

A flower isn't a very practical form for moving around. [And then Flowey is gonna go and prove him wrong.

Sadly, he can't pick up implied eyebrow waggles over the radio.] After I what?

[whattaprick]

[ Its no fun when you won't roll with the innuendo, Syr! Thankfully, there's a ready euphemism at hand: ]

Pollinate, obviously.

[chronosynthesis]

Oh. [Yeah, he can understand that one. Other races are so weirdly indirect about it.] It isn't really pollinating for our race...

But no, that sort of intimacy is much the same for us as it would be for you.

[whattaprick]

[ She'd be cruder, normally, but there are children on the line, and she's the oft-ignored part of Lambert who'd actually try not to use "dick" in front of a kid. ]

So how do more of you get made, then? Or grow.

[chronosynthesis]

We're all born from the Pale Tree, our mother. We develop in pods, like... fruit? And when we are ready to awaken into the world we fall from her branches.

... She is a very large tree, the size of a city. [She literally is a city, but he's tryong to explain this in a way that makes some semblance of sense to Lambert.]

[whattaprick]

So you're all related.

[chronosynthesis]

Yes. [A pause.] It is not the same way which you are related to your family.

[whattaprick]

[ You're catching on to how he thinks, Syr, and Celandine laughs. ]

If you're the first of your kind, where'd the Pale Tree come from? Why did it start making you?

[chronosynthesis]

The story is that her seed was found in a cave by a human named Ronan. He planted it among the graves of his family, and with the centaur Ventari created a sanctuary of peace along the coast.

[His tone is wistful, recounting it. For a young race, they only have so many shared stories and so much lore.]

She was magical to begin, of course. Producing us was natural. But she took their ideals to heart, and imparted Ventari's wisdom to us.

[whattaprick]

Who's Ventari?

[ Short questions to prompt long answers seems to be the smart way to go, when it's Lambert talking. ]

[chronosynthesis]

A... you know what a centaur is? [He knew what dwarves are, but Syrlya couldn't recognize manticores so he can't take that for granted.]

He was someone who wanted to live a peaceful life away from the war of his people. And he and Ronan created a refuge where others could come for safety, and that is where they planted the mother tree. He wrote his beliefs on a stone tablet, and my people have used it as guidance for our place in the world since the Firstborn.

Of course, he died long before we met him. That was a couple centuries ago.

[whattaprick]

Half horse, half man. They're only in stories where we're from, though.. [ Like the world was short on monsters to start... ]

Good story. [ A beat. ] That really how it happened?

[ Somehow, he doubts it. At the very least, in his experience, anyone who tries to go off and live a peaceful life is usually interrupted by people who think they shouldn't. ]

[chronosynthesis]

Mostly? At least the Pale Tree remembers them and their sanctuary, and she still carries Ventari's Tablet in her boughs.

[kingsroads]

Of course not. A five year old you is just as capable as many of the humans my age I've met.

[ is this a dumb plant thing? It's probably a dumb plant thing. And, as Syrlya mentions that Strange is older than his entire race, he KNOWS it's a dumb plant thing. ]

Good Lord. If you're going to keep throwing these baffling facts about your species at me, at least let me get a drink first!

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya laughs.] What races do exist in your world, if not sapient plant life?

[kingsroads]

Humans, faeries, and all sorts of animals, birds, and fish. Of the lot, only humans and faeries are worth any attempt at conversation.

[chronosynthesis]

Really? [He sounds a little awed at that.] Only yourselves and the fae? That's so few.

[kingsroads]

Some worlds have even fewer. [ And then, out of some desire to defend his boringass world, Strange continues. ] Besides, I'm sure that the realm of faerie has naiads and river spirits and the like. I simply haven't met any of them yet.