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]

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.