voidtreckernet | [Video] - Tribulation Day 1

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rezo greywords [ou]

[Video] - Tribulation Day 1

[The camera is off-centered at first, and Esteban settles down in front of the ICP, still a little crookedly. He grins lightly, cheery as he begins.]

Heya! I'm Esteban 'f you didn't know me! I'm a trav'ler in my world, an' where I'm from there's big festivals pretty often an' all sorts of artists come 'round an' show off their skills...

[He pauses, unsure how to go on.]

I'd like to do that. Here.

Allen an' I've been talkin' about it an' we wanna do somethin'... To show off what we know, to share skills an' culture an' stuff that we do back home for fun, an' just lettin' go for a bit.

Everyone's welcome! Anythin' you love to do, anythin' you'd wanna share with everyone.

We'll try an' pull this off in the next few days; I'll warn everyone 's soon as we've got a date set. If you wanna participate, just come an' talk to me in the weather-- in the stone garden, an' lemme know what you'd wanna do!

Hope everyone's as excited for this 's I am!

[The camera goes dead after a cheeky grin, and the video cuts off. He still lacks etiquette when he's on a call.]

[OOC: OOC thread and participation is here! You can feel free to poke Esteban but preparation can be handwaved since this is pretty last minute]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What sort of artistry did you have in mind?

[Rezo's asking mainly because he's wondering if there'll be anything he'll be able to get much out of; someone with his severity of visual impairment isn't going to enjoy a painting exhibition very much, for example.]

Anythin' goes really!

[His grin is perfectly felt through his vocal tone as always, though he's quick to amend with a low hum.]

Thinkin' of recallin' a story? It's a good idea, but we're gonna be missin' the ambiance 'round it. Doesn't quite hit the same way when there's no bonfire cracklin' an' dyin' nearby, an' the open air an' sky overhead. [He pauses.]

Maybe we could set somethin' up? I think it'd be easy to project, like we did durin' the spring garden? Oh! Seto-- Kaiba might be able to help! [There's a grin in his voice and a small stutter, before Esteban reconsiders, as he's the main point of contact for this.]

Maybe y' could ask him? He tends to be in the lab'ratory carriage, or the... library? [Hmm. He's not actually confident about that last one.] I can track him down later 'f you can't.

[Wait, what.]

To be truthful, I hadn’t been thinking about such a thing.

[...But Esteban does seem to need volunteers, doesn’t he. Hmn. Well, Rezo’s used enough to public speaking that the idea of ~performing~ isn’t too intimidating, and he likes Esteban enough that if it would make Esteban happy…]

Though if you think a simple story might be of some enjoyment, I wouldn’t mind volunteering. As for the atmosphere… If Kaiba isn’t available I still might be able to do something similar with illusion magic. [Possibly even make illusions that are more immersive than a hologram would be, since he can easily include details like scents that, to the best of Rezo’s knowledge, hologram technology doesn’t do so much of.]

But I would need somebody to help me design the visual elements.

[Wait-- why would Rezo need any help? He'd know best what would be accurate?]

[On the other hand.]

[Esteban would NEVER pass up the opportunity to listen to a story; even if he's offered to hear the same one twice, thrice, or even a hundred times. Yes, he absolutely will help out with that.]

"Sure! I'll be in the Weather gardens 'f you need me right now! But I think after supper w'ld be better. I'm still takin' names whenever people drop by right now. D's that work?"

Yes, I can easily meet you in the gardens then. Were you thinking of using it as a rehearsal space?

[Rehearsal space?]

Not really. Doesn't work so well with the statues in the way. [It's not quite a complain so much as an easy-to-spot disadvantage to the current situation.]

Best spot would just be the performance stage-- ever been there? It's right over the music room an' it's empty most of the time. Though I guess it won't be now since we're not gonna be the only ones to think 'f it. [There's a small chuff of laughter in his voice, even when accompanied by the light, helpless tone. Oh-well-what-can-you-do indeed.]

[Look, Rezo’s not a professional by any means, but he’s fairly certain most performers try to get some practice in before the actual curtain-raising so that they are maybe somewhat less likely to make an ass of themselves.]

One could pretend the statues are audience members, and practice fighting your stage fright. [This is said lightly, it’s not a serious suggestion.]

Yes, I’ve been there once or twice. Then, just name any spot that works for you, and I’ll meet you there later. It’s hard to lose one’s way on this train.

[Confusion is Esteban's middle name. He knows he missed a step somewhere but finding it back is taking him a while. He scratches at his cheek lightly as he tries to assemble his thoughts.]

Are we talkin' about a rehersal for you, or for me? [he questions, just to make sure they're on the same page.] 'Cause, Rezo-- I do this for a livin' you know?

[Does he know? Has Esteban ever told him that?]

Stage-fright kinda gets old after twenty years. [A bit of nerves, yes. Anticipation, absolutely. But fright? It's been a long time since he had that.]

If y'r weavin' illusions, won't the statues be in the way? [Or is he getting confused about that too?]

[Y’know, ever since he got on this train, Rezo seems to keep getting involved with people who do not quite get his jokes and teases.]

It wasn’t a serious suggestion, Esteban. You needn’t pay it any mind.

[Anyway, illusions! Evidently this is another area of magic where they’re working off some very different base assumptions.]

The statues wouldn’t be an impediment at all, but I’ll show you after dinner. The upper floor of the music carriage, then?

[And presuming Esteban has no objections- timeskip is go?]

Sure? [He still sounds confused, his plans tripping over themselves. But-- brushing these aside.]

Yeah! Sure! After supper then! I'll meetcha in the dinning car, okay?

[With the confusion over statues and stages, he'd rather meet each other in neutral territory first, and then they'd see to it.]

♪☼♫

[The performance stage is surprisingly empty when they get there. Esteban is still eager, his grin wide as he stumbles along inside the dark velvet walkways, the faint lights on the ground his only coordination. The stage is lit up from above, a beacon in so much darkness, and the half-elf is quick to sit on the edge of it, feet dangling and tapping lightly against the wood.]

So? Whatd'you think? [His voice is cheery in his question, and echoes about the space, empty but for the chairs, for the curtains, for the stage. And a piano. He'd forgotten there was a piano there.]

Rezo has been in this part of the train only a handful of times- once to eavesdrop on someone who was playing the piano, the other times just when he was still exploring- but the layout is straightforward enough for him to navigate. The rings on his staff chime together as he follows Esteban down the walkway and to the stage.

He doesn’t clamber up right away but instead circles around the stage, feeling with the end of his staff for the stairs so that he can climb up with dignity, then he moves to stand by Esteban. He can hear the younger man’s heels gently knocking against the stage, and Rezo smiles briefly, bemused by the childishness of it.

“Let’s see…” Rezo says. He shifts his feet, settling into an upright stance, takes a breath, and begins to speak, projecting his voice out over the room.

“I found myself suspended in an endless golden lagoon. There was no clear sense of time or space. It was like water and yet it was not…” He’s specifically quoting a well known bit of writing from his world about the Sea of Chaos; perhaps Esteban will be able to discern from the way Rezo is speaking that the surreal monologue is a quote, or perhaps he’ll think Rezo has lost his mind.

Either way, when he’s done, Rezo nods. “The acoustics aren’t bad at all,” he declares. Maybe some carefully applied wind shamanism could improve things, but the room is as well designed for performance as one can expect a train carriage to be. “It will do.”

The half-elf watches his companion as he shuffles around the stage, the clicking of his staff somehow a soothing repetition. His eyes close as he settles in the comfort of the stage room, enjoying the quiet dimness of the room. It was one of the first places he'd come to love here, and he tends to return to it quite often, though not at times where others might stumble onto him.

He turns his attention back to the mage when he takes a breath, puffing his chest, back straight-- Esteban knows exactly what he's doing. It's been a while since he'd seen it, but he knows the stance of a presenter when he sees it. Or maybe theater? He'd seen some theater troupes too-- though he was rarely among them. Memories tickle and are pushed back, as Rezo calls out to an invisible audience.

Oh. He remembers the first story he's heard from Rezo, but this little snippet, this short introduction stops his gentle tapping, eyes growing wide and his lips parted unconsciously. The priest trailing off is an outrage, really. He needs to know more.

"Is that the story y'r gonna tell?" the redhead asks eagerly, because he can be patient enough if Rezo will be using this story for the performance. Sort of. Barely. But he can! He shuffles around on the stage so he can face his friend more comfortably, one ankle tucked underneath his opposite knee.

"It sounds great already!" Forget the illusions; Esteban would love to just hear the next part, thank you.

[[ooc: not gonna try actually writing the monologue because I do not trust my ability to believably create a work of Classic Literature- just understand Rezo’s doing the equivalent of like, quoting a monologue from Richard III or the Gettysburg Address, i.e. being a Big Nerd.]]

“It’s not a story, I’m afraid,” Rezo gently corrects. “It’s just an old piece of writing from my world about the Sea of Chaos. It’s what surrounds the world- something like voidspace, actually. Now, if I recall correctly, the rest of it goes something like this…”

The monologue in its entirety isn’t long, a short, surreal description of the speaker’s out of body experience in between planes of existence, attempting to return, and succeeding but being left very shaken up by their experience.

“...and the golden light of dawn unsettled me for a long time afterwards,” Rezo finishes. He relaxes his posture, dropping out of his presenter’s stance, and ambles closer to where Esteban is seated.

“I’m not sure if it would work well for an actual performance,” he says. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of a folktale, but I haven’t decided which one to go for. What do you think the people here would enjoy?”

Wonder fills Esteban at every word.

Even though he was never quite raised to be religiously inclined, he enjoys the tale for what it is; an understanding of how the world came to be. Worlds, in Rezo's case. He finds it fascinating that their creation myth has different realms woven into their tale, when the half-elf's own world was blissfully ignorant to them until Hell ripped its way out of itself. It's intriguing to think of how this might have affected their culture, their research, their day to day lives.

Do they curse by sending people to other realms? Do they wish for a gift from other realms? He drinks greedily on all of this information, these strange thoughts of worlds and cultures so removed from his own, and the tapping of his foot has ceased to let Rezo's voice dominate the wide, dark space of the performance carriage.

"It was great!" He assures his friend, without a second thought. Biased or not-- Esteban quite likes Rezo's voice when he shifts into this sort of narration; a deep and slow voice that reminded him of a crackling flame, warmth and the rasp of paper. Lulling someone to sleep, but enraptured with the tale, both in one.

"You told lots of stories b'fore, right?" He can sort of tell. "It suits you!" There's the familiar lilt to his voice, an indication to the smile that he bears again. But as for his friend's question, the redhead has to ponder on it, drifting on a moment of semi-silence. His heel taps at the stage again, quiet and tempered, but loud in the lack of any other sound.

"I think-- I think it's a great story..." He edges at first, voice uncertain as he tries his best to spill this without being callous. "Jus' maybe not-- right? For this?" He tries, but words are a bit of a struggle to pinpoint why he thinks so. While Esteban loves and enjoys the dream of a world coming to existence, finds it an absolute wonder-- there's something... quiet about it. Not-- oh!

"Y' wanted t' make illusions with it, right?" Maybe the voice-illustration narration would help? Make it something more than the theories and theologies of a world few of them had seen before?

“Every now and then,” Rezo says. Not as much as he used to, admittedly, not after he started focusing on his black magic research- but lately, he’s been having more opportunities to perform. Perhaps because the train has forced him into closer social proximity to others in general.

Rezo makes a polite “Oh?” noise, waiting for Esteban to elaborate on where the monologue is lacking, and what might work instead- Rezo himself has a few thoughts- but instead Esteban struggles to find words and switches tracks slightly to the matter of illusions.

“That’s right,” Rezo says. “You said that you thought a story would work better with a campfire ambiance, didn’t you? I thought I could try making an illusory fire.”

Or maybe something more elaborate, to put on a real show. It’s just hard for him to create good looking visual illusions when he doesn’t really have any knowledge of what things look like, although he’s found he can create very convincing inanimate objects and scenes, especially with practice.

"Y' can make fires in the Train?" Ah, yes. Esteban misses fire, misses fire something fierce, and the mere mention gets him excited again. Though, then again, if it's a fire illusion, does it count? It takes him a moment before he decides that, yes, it absolutely does count, and he perks up again.

"How big c'n you make them? D' they give off heat? I guess they give off light, right?" A light illusion? That sounds like fun! Oh! "I'm gonna turn off the lights an' check it out that way, okay? It'll look more genuine, right?" He scampers off the stage and up along the velveted rows, to the far end of the room where his voice rises easily across.

"Turning them off now! Watch y'r step!" And... well. Presumably he has. His shuffling gait is far more careful as he makes his way back to the priest, and there's a dull thud when his foot kicks the wooden stage by accident.

[[ooc: Rezo can canonically do way better visual illusions than this but I'm treating this as like. The illusion magic equivalent of a first sketch/setting up the basic geometry of a 3D model.]]

Rezo could make a real fire- rather easily, actually, fireball is a rudimentary offensive spell and fire starting spells in general are very useful to the traveling sorcerer- but for basic health and safety reasons he will not be doing that.

He smiles at the familiar Esteban volley-of-questions and quickly recites, “About as big as a person can imagine, yes, and yes.” Actually, the heat will probably be one of the easiest parts. At any rate, Rezo remains on the stage and waits patiently as he hears Esteban running off, calling out from across the room, then scampering back and thunking against the stage.

“Perhaps you should take your own advice,” Rezo teases. “Alright, are you watching? Let’s try this…”

Rezo incants quietly, and thinks on what he knows of fire. The heat, the smell, the sounds, the rough size…

A campfire appears on the stage, appearing to fade into reality. It crackles gently, glowing and giving off the scent of woodsmoke, casting a silvery light across the stage. In all but visuals, it’s an incredibly convincing fire.

But its appearance… It’s a little off. The flames are a pure white, while the logs are a dark gray and without texture. And the flames ripple and flicker gently in a way that doesn’t appear quite right.

"As big as a person c'n imagine?" Esteban repeats with unbridled mirth in his voice. He can imagine something quite big after all. But he lets the matter drop as soon as the flame comes to light, and his breath catches.

It's far, far more real than he'd expected. The silver only entrances him more, and he heaves himself atop the stage without going around to the stairs again. The warmth that reaches him is soft, tickling almost, and he doesn't even resist shifting an arm into the illusion, wanting for the true heat, the lick of flames against his skin.

Even the scent that clings to the air makes him feel lighter. It's stronger than the scent that clings to him, has more bite to it. Closer to childhood memories he could never forget. It takes him a moment to find his voice-- and then it runs from him.

"Oh! It's gorgeous!" he openly calls out, letting his voice fluctuate with the raw joy and nostalgia that the flames mean to him. He sways from where he's crouching near the flame, hands outstretched, trying to catch something that has no form, as he speaks.

"Look at it! It's silver! D'you have silver fires in y'r world? I've never seen silver fires! Blue an' green an' purple-- that's easy with the right c'mponent, but silver?!" He chatters excitedly, before doubling down on his theories.

"'Dians! That's gotta be, like. Hmmm. Mixing shimmer salts an' gnawfang scales an' salamander oil for heat?" he asks, already tallying the price that this would represent in his head. Absolutely not something he could afford for a party trick, that's for sure.

Rezo can, indeed, make people hallucinate that they have been suddenly cast into a world made entirely out of fire. He does not do this because he does not generally have a reason to go and torture people. (...And admittedly doing an illusion on that level would be somewhat taxing. Particularly since his magic capacity isn’t what it used to be.)

At any rate a small scale illusion is a much better idea, and after a tense moment- Esteban very clearly and audibly approves. Gorgeous, is it? That’s good, Rezo supposes. He’s letting himself feel the heat and smell the smoke as well, and he can tell that he’s done a convincing job… Until Esteban mentions the color.

Well, damn.

“It’s silver?” Rezo says, genuinely surprised. “I’m afraid that wasn’t intentional. I suppose I didn’t think hard enough about the color. Fire is normally red, isn’t it?”

It's unfortunate, it truly is. His comment gets lost, sails far too high over the half-elf's head as he latches onto the later part; Colour and Fire and things Esteban is very, very familiar with. He grows so incredibly excited, a shiver of movement quickly becomes the tap-tap-tap of his companion bouncing on his toes. And Esteban takes a deep, deep breath.

"It depends on whatcha got in it! Fire-fire's a twistin' shade of oranges an' reds and licks of yellows, but 'f you add salamander oil, the flames grow hotter an' new col'rs mix in! Y' can get a core flame 'f a light, midnight blue that shimmers inside a coat 'f red inside 'nother flame 'f orange!~ Duskmoth scales 're the most common way of changin' colour 'cause it's the easiest to get-- every fall, they die in huge swarms after layin' their eggs, so the wings get c'llected an' sold, an' you can get some f'r pretty cheap! It makes the fire with a deep burg'ndy core an' a midnight blue coat, but it doesn't do good 'ffects for fire-plays, or for fire dancin'!"

Syllables are too late to the call, entirely missing as Esteban throws himself into saying these things with such speed that his mouth cannot keep up with him. There's a quick break-- far too quick-- when he takes another breath, before launching himself anew. Understanding the eager half-elf is suddenly very much a race as the words pour from him with a torrent of unbridled passion, tossing out terms and quick mentions and descriptions with all the fortified restraint of a ruined dam.

"Shimmer salts 're a rock compound that some really, really rare blacksmiths 're able to melt down t' metals! When they grind the blade, the metal dust's recovered an' y' can toss it in a flame-- makes a vivid, brilliant green fire with purple edges where it's cooler, an' jus' a tiny yellow core. It lasts for hours, but it's insanely pricy so not somethin' easy t' get a hold of. 'Dians, I'd love makin' a fire show with shimmer salts one day!"

Not time to sit on that now, moving right along, come on now, no time to waste!

"Spindleflower seed pods pop in these sparkly blues, bright 's a summer sky; sometimes, I get my father t' give me some, an' I get to start my show with 'em! Ashengrass husks work too, but it's a pretty rare grass, 'cause it's a failed prototype. They make just the edge 'f the flame turn blue, but it's still really neat! Dried gleamwood leaves 're the best for fire tricks, but they're kinda illegal."

Away! Onwards! Let's go!

"Then y' get monster compounds, an' those 're hard t' get by 'cause they're monster parts, so y'd need a really good fighter t' get these. Sometimes-- sometimes I get lucky, an' I get t' fight one of them, but it's so rare an' the parts sell for too good an amount t' really keep any 'f it for party tricks. Rustrats hair makes it turn white at the center, an' the flame's really pale, like buttery light. Gnawfangs scales 're the closest to a pale flame, like you've got there, just-- pinker an' the core is a light blue, an' wyvern venom makes it 'nother shade of summery blue."

Finally, finally a break in his incredibly swift descriptions, an actual stop that doesn't only serve to fill his lungs with as deep a breath as he can manage in as short a time period. There's a bit of a pause as Esteban catches his breath, stifles a snicker when it dawns on him just how much information he's dumped on his poor friend. A hand cards through the short hairs at the back of his neck, feeling heat crawl up to the tip of his ears, though he's still happy to add a slight lingering threat.

"An' that's just what I know from the top 'f my head." Wait-- If Rezo can turn the colours of the fire as he likes-- Esteban beams at the new idea that just crawled in his head. "C'ld you make a rainbow fire?"

Having spent a great deal of his life immersed in academia, Rezo is no stranger to individuals who will, at the drop of a hat, go onto long, happy rambles about the subject of their interest. He listens politely, because on the whole he quite likes Esteban and the information is interesting from a chemical standpoint, even if colors are something Rezo cannot picture or appreciate- and even if hearing someone talk so happily about such things feels a bit like having a dagger plunged into his heart. Rezo has enough experience to tell when someone is being deliberately malicious and when someone is merely oblivious and Esteban is definitely the latter.

~~In fact, Rezo is underestimating just how oblivious Esteban is.~~

So Rezo just smiles and nods while Esteban talks about the variety of colors that different components can produce, waiting until a question comes up that requires Rezo to respond.

“Probably, but it takes time to refine my illusions and I’m not sure if a rainbow fire would be suitable for the performance. It would be more practical to stick with red fire, especially since I actually have some idea of what red looks like.” And therefore he can draw on his own memories to create the illusion, instead of guessing or having to make the spell mildly psychic.

Oh. The slight disappointment finally slows him down, or at least manages to get him to keep a little more still, a little less hard to follow around with his cacophony of sounds and shuffles dying down. He's not unenthusiastic, just a little more demure now that Rezo brings up a good point.

"Right! Don't wanna overshadow y'r own performance!" he agrees readily; he does have a good idea for how to build one after all, seeing as he does this fairly regularly. He gets overambitious sometimes-- such as the rainbow flame-- but Esteban is quick to simply nod along (a lost gesture) as he offers a quick solution.

"An' when I get all my fire-art stuff back, I'll show you!" he mentions easily, waving an arm in front of him as if to pretend the illusion fire was the one he would toss all these marvelous ingredients in. "'Specially the duskmoth scales an' the spindleflower pods! They crack with lil' pops an' sparkle! It's gorgeous!" He cheers again, because it would be easy, because he'd love to show his friend-- and more than just Rezo. He wishes he had any of those ingredients for his performance, whenever they pull it off, but... well. He's got his rope-dart; and that's more than he's had for the last three-and-a-half months combined.

Six. Six months here. Time gets him loopy in this train without floods.

I’ll show you!

The phrasing very well might mean nothing- Rezo himself often phrases things in terms of ‘see’ and ‘look’- but it’s something of a straw upon the camel’s back of epiphany. Rezo is silent for several long moments, as he puts various pieces together. Little things that Esteban has said, little ways that the man has behaved, including during this very conversation.

Blindness, he knows, isn’t always visible to the sighted. But Rezo does have a visible tell in the form of his perpetually shut eyes, not to mention the staff he uses as a mobility aid, so he’s used to people working it out quickly. Or at least asking him “Why do you have your eyes closed?” Which he would think Esteban is direct enough to ask about if he didn’t realize Rezo is visually impaired.

But. Esteban is something of an airhead, to put it bluntly. Gods help them, it occurs to Rezo that it is a very real possibility that Esteban just wouldn’t have noticed.

Of course, if he’s wrong and Esteban is well aware of Rezo’s blindness, this could turn very awkward. Except it would be awkward either way, wouldn’t it? Addressing his blindness almost always turns conversations awkward. But hell, now Rezo is wondering, and if he remains silent it would probably only lead to further confusion. So how to tactfully ask…?

“Esteban,” he finally ventures, “Do you remember that I’m blind?”

An eerie silence returns, his companion growing so still, there's no sound from him, until his lungs fill deeply, and surprise presses the air out of them swiftly.

"Wha- you are?!" It might be comical to hear him stumble onto this, the sheer shock of having Not Expected it leaving him half-floored by the revelation. Remember? Did Rezo ever tell him before? Esteban doesn't think he would have forgotten something like that-- of course he walks slower, his staff in hand! Dead Guardians in a Ditch, how did he miss the signs?!-- but he'd just-- not asked. Not wondered.

There were tales of mazoku and shinzoku, tales of gods and trees and other things to talk about that Rezo's presence had just... grown on him. He hadn't thought to ask, just because Rezo was like that, and Esteban had not noticed any issues. Though, then again, he'd been rather ridiculously dressed the first time they'd met. No wonder his winter gear had been so brightfully colourful. The half-elf had just assumed Rezo liked colours.

"I didn't notice!" It's not quite dismay that lilts along Esteban's voice, so much as... laughter? A mix of embarrassment, and amusement as he raises a hand and finally shuffles onto place. "You always know it's me when I'm 'round you, at least! How'd you do that?" he asks, curious as to how Rezo could know. If he can't see Esteban-- then what is it that gives him away?

The silence does not bode well and Rezo’s grip on his staff is tight until Esteban finally has his outburst of surprise.

Rezo takes a breath. “...Yes?” he says, being careful to smile. “I haven’t kept it a secret. That is, I have not been trying to keep it a secret.” He’d just assumed it was readily apparent to most people, and he can only wonder what Esteban has been making of Rezo’s eyes and staff and the careful way he moves and… whatever else. He supposes it hasn’t specifically come up before but really, when just about everything in his life is affected by his blindness, it’s absolutely bizarre that Esteban somehow hasn't noticed.

So, Rezo wonders, doesn’t that mean that Esteban has been operating under the assumption that Rezo is a sighted person?

Well. It seems that means it’s time for questions. And this one is easy enough to answer.

“Your voice,” Rezo says. “You’re the one who sounds like Esteban.” And Esteban isn’t normally the quiet type, so Rezo can catch on quick- and even if Esteban was, there are other tells, such as the way it sounds when he walks or the way he smells. Rezo thinks he’ll keep that last tidbit to himself, however, as most people find it weird when he mentions it.

Alright, that's more than fair. Esteban beams at his companion, a little flattered to know he's easy to distinguish, before he realizes that this... won't be understood. Curiosity nips at him again, but he pushes out a small snicker, to let Rezo know.

"That's a good point!" he cheers, seemingly stating the obvious. It's just-- "Y' gotta be really observant, then, right? What 'bout moods? Emotions? How c'n you tell them 'part? With tone of voice?" That seems the most obvious of them all; but there has to be more to it than that, right? "What 'bout smiles? Or excitement?"

They are getting so far off track from the goal by now; but Esteban doesn't really have the mental space to mind right now-- this is... interesting wouldn't be quite accurate, though he sure is curious. But. He's learned a bit of hand-speak for Amaya.

He can do something similar for Rezo, right? He just needs to learn how.

[[ooc: hfgksf- apologies to esteban/you but unfortunately this is The Thing That Rezo Is Sensitive About and with rezo’s huge internalized ableism issues esteban has kind of. unintentionally triggered rezo here.]]

A bemused smile has settled onto Rezo’s face, something not really indicative of good cheer, but without the serenity of his usual polite smile. It’s quite the line of questioning that Esteban has settled on, and not the one where people normally start in on Rezo, except maybe to comment on how terribly sad it is that he doesn’t know what a smile looks like.

“Ah. Yes. And obviously, I can’t see smiles. But people’s voices sound different when they smile. And even apart from tone, I… I simply pay attention to what people say, or do,” Rezo says, internally vexed by how much more he’s faltering than usual. It’s not as if he’s unused to explaining how he does things to other people. His blindness has always given him an alien quality that both repelled and fascinated the sighted world he inhabited.

How do you tell what other people are feeling if you can’t see them? How do you study magic when you can’t really read? How do you walk without running into things? How can you heal people if you can’t see their injuries? How do you feed yourself if you can’t see your food? How do you use the bathroom or change your clothes? How can you possibly take care of yourself if you’re blind? How can you exist in your pathetic, deficient body?

Sometimes, Rezo thinks there isn’t a single part of life, not a single one of his abilities or characteristics, that hasn’t been called into question at one point or another. He’s often been accused of faking his blindness entirely, because how can a blind man possibly be anything other than his inadequacies?

Esteban means well. Rezo knows he means well. But he’s unfortunately poking at some very old, and very ugly wounds.

[OOC: It's all good! Things like this are bound to happen, especially on sensitive subjects! No need to worry!]

There seems to be... something. Something about Rezo's tone, or maybe the shift in his smile? Esteban isn't quite sure what he's missing, but he knows he's missing something. Still, it won't scare him off, and he does want to... do something.

"Is there somethin' I can do?" he asks curiously, trying to find the proper words to this. "It's like Amaya-- she can't hear, so I started learnin' how t' talk with my hands. I'm not good at it," he smiles again, laughter bubbling through his lungs and he lets it colour his voice, but it doesn't stop him from waving his hand from his forehead outwards.

"The SCA picks it up-- like so--" he warns, just before the garbled voice of his SCA pipes up. {Hello! My, name, E-s-t-e-b-a-n, Esteban} The mechanical noise is far more gritchy than a human's voice, so Esteban doesn't keep up with it. Maybe it'll hurt Rezo's ears if he's to use it longer-- even the half-elf can admit that he doesn't like the mechanical, soulless tone of the device over his own.

"So... what 'bout you? Is there somethin' I c'n learn t' do like you?" He genuinely means well; he does. But there are vast differences between Amaya and Rezo's disabilities; and what works for one likely is not so simple for the other.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Video] - Tribulation Day 1

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switchin' to prose for the action stuff~

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writing is coming out like molasses, alas

Yeah, I know the mood. It's all good! Small steps are still steps forwards!

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