#but uhh. i always relied on that to find my stuff oops

[layalu]

am i stupid or did steam remove a button to access the local screenshot files??

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius

words: ca. 4700 setting: mAU with accidental time travel lemon: no cw: homelessness

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.

I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.

“Hell yeah,” I whispered.

Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.

“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.

She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”

My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”

My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”

“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.

I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”

“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.

“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”

Elsa nodded.

“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”

She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.

“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”

The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.

I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!

“Oops.”

I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.

————————————-

When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?

Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?

I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.

While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.

“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?

I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —

“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.

“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”

She groaned.

Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”

“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”

We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.

Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.

I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.

I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.

I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.

“Hey lady! Is she dead?”

My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.

I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.

“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.

“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.

So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”

Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”

Pompeii?

….Holy fucking Vesuvius…

———————————————————

Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.

We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?

“So…” Elsa began.

“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.

“What the fuck!” Elsa said.

And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.

When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.

“What year do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”

“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”

“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”

“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”

“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”

I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.” Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”

“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”

“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”

“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”

“What vase?” Elsa asked.

I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”

“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”

“There’s a thought…” Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”

“That sounds fun! Can I help?”

Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?

——————————————————————-

Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.

Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”

Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”

I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.

It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.

We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.

Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.

“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”

More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.

“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.

“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”

“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.

The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.

“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”

Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?

I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”

“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”

The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”

“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”

I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”

“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”

Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”

She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.

Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”

Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”

The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.

Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.

“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”

“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”

Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.

We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.

“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”

“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.

Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”

“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”

She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.

“We have to take her with us,” I finished.

“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”

Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”

“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.

“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”

“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.

“Or we grab her at the last second.”

“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”

Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.

“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”

My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.

“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.

Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”

“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”

A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”

“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.

“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.

Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”

This kid was going to be an adventure.

——————————————-

A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.

“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”

“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”

Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.

“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”

Cassia stared at me.

“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”

Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.

“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”

“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”

“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.” Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.

We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”

“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”

I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.

“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.

——————————-

I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.

Oh.

It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?

I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.

It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!

Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.

“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.

Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.

Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”

“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.

“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.

“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Episode 7: No Bigger Fish

WELL IT HAS BEEN A WHILE but we’re getting the group back together tomorrow and so I want to try to catch up on some of the old episodes I never posted! They may be a bit shorter because it’s been so long and I’ve forgotten stuff so I have to rely on my notes, but I hope to hit the highlights. This session in particular was one of my favorites. Basically, our characters make a Walmart run, but instead of Walmart it’s the planet of Naboo. 

The DM introduces us to the spectacle of Theed City, capitol of Naboo. It’s temperate in climate, standing majestically on a forested mesa. 

We’re contacted by Theed air traffic control. 

Me: As usual, Taveau is gonna look to Grif to do the talking. 

H: As usual, Rralwarr can’t talk. 

ATC: confirm number of passengers and planned duration of stay. 

Grif: Uh hey there, we have 3, planning on staying overnight. 

ATC: Copy, Blindsider... be prepared to show IDs to customs.

Grif, quietly: oh

(The players all sit back and give each other the :/ face for a minute) 

Rralwarr: Well, we don’t need to stop here...

Me out-of-character: can we do a galactic lore roll to see how bad it would be if we landed without IDs? I mean Taveau’s not gonna know what to search for necessarily, he’s not familiar with landing LEGALLY... But maybe someone else who knows more about this? 

Grif: hmmm well sounds problematic.

Grif to ATC: OK we don’t have time to stop here bye.

ATC: Copy, please exit Naboo airspace within 5 minutes. 

There’s a pause, then: 

DM: OK, WELL, I’LL JUST PULL THIS ENTIRE PAGE OF METICULOUS NOTES OUT OF THE BOOK AND EAT IT, NOW. 

Everyone: uh 

Everyone: do we uh

Everyone: was... were we supposed to land on Naboo.... 

Everyone: do we not have a session plan now?? 

DM: MMMMMYEP. 

M: oops.... oh, well, we already did that so I guess--

Me, out of character: AAHGHSDFJK. OK HOLD ON ONE SEC--

Taveau: H, hold on, are we... where are we going if we’re not stopping here? 

Grif: To meet up with Mij? 

Taveau: But we were supposed to meet up with him in a couple of days. We’re going to be there way too early if we stop here. 

Rralwarr: We could always just wait there. Maybe scope out the area. 

Taveau: Have you looked at the coordinates he gave us? That’s in the middle of Separatist airspace and I don’t want to be just sitting out there for two days! 

Grif: Well... 

Taveau takes out his datapad, does a thirty-second Space Wikipedia search, and shoves it in Grif’s face--showing that we can easily get tourist visas on the planet. 

Grif: OK, you really want to go to this planet don’t you? 

(Me out of character: YE) 

Grif: Listen, OK, let’s make a deal... We’ll make this stop and I’ll subtract 10% of your pay. 

Taveau: 

Taveau: What

Taveau: What is my pay?

Grif: ...OK yeah let’s go ahead and establish that. 

Taveau: Uh-huh, so what do you think is a good--

Grif: *FAST TALK MODE ENGAGED*  Well listen I feel like we’ve got to find a price that’s reasonable for our means without devaluing the great help you’ve given us. You helped us in battle as well as with flying this ship. You’ve changed the direction of my entire life, and I hope you’ll be there for a lot of it, because you’re a pretty cool guy. However, as far as payment goes, well, I mean you weren’t flying for the whole time you’ve been with us, and a lot of that time the ship was on autopilot anyway--

Taveau, breaking out of his overwhelmed haze: OK but you say this like programming autopilot is EASY. Could you do it?

Grif: ...Probably? I mean I’m guessing there’s a button you press. 

Rralwarr: You’re the type who’d push the self-destruct button instead. 

Grif, uncomfortable: Thehrhyhe haaa theyyy don’t HAVE self destruct buttons??? do they??? 

Taveau: *chuckles* .... nah. 

Grif: Ah, good, great. So how much do you want? 

Taveau, who has no idea what a reasonable price actually is, just kind of bluescreens for a few seconds and then goes “.....10,000?”

Grif: OK, sure. I’ll get that to you as soon as possible. ...You really wanna go to Naboo?

Taveau: Do you have a better idea??

Grif: ... ...well... no... but...? ...OK but let’s go to the other side of the planet, I don’t wanna talk to that guy again, he seemed grumpy. 

(DM: Ooh...

H: I know what his punishment for us is gonna be. 

DM: The Gungans have also been making a killing off of tourism, and have built a spaceport outside of Theed to allow access to the underwater city. Yes, THIS IS WHAT YOU GET for making me eat my notes.)

Grif, researching the area, notices the Gungan city, and goes:  Ooh, an underwater city! Now, that I could get behind.

Taveau: OK? Glad to see you excited about something.

Grif, reading from his datapad: ooh they took out an entire orbital dropship, they must be great warriors!

Taveau: Huh. Interesting. 

DM: So you fly in to Gungan Space and you get a uhh.. a new buzzer on the  commlink... it appears to be Gungan traffic control. 

ATC: HEDOOOH! YoU-sA wAnT lAnD iN GunGAn cItY?? 

HEDOOOH! You-sa want land in Gungan City? 

(Players: oh... 

DM: THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT.) 

ATC: wE-SAAAA be hApPy to WelCOmE YoU! YoUUu-sa, be lAnDiN iNNnn, ah... DoCkInG bAy 36! 

Grif: All right, sounds great!

ATC: ThAnK yOuS!

Grif: he sounds friendly.

Taveau: yeah, they sound pretty chill. 

Grif: they must have a very interesting and deep rich culture if their speech is so hard for us to understand... I think it’ll be a very interesting experience.

DM: You land, and are greeted by Gungan Customs, which seems to work on a different organizational scheme than Nubian customs. 

Gungan Customs Officer: Hello-sa! 

Grif: Hi! :D 

GCO: Welcome to Naboo, we-sa very happy to have you here! But-ah, there is una small matter! The landing fee is 500 Republic credits! 

Grif: OK, uh, shoot! Well, I can cover that one. (M: I’ll swipe my cardy-boii)

We get our visas and ride down towards the underwater city in a small sub shuttle. Rralwarr is not happy about being crammed into a small space, or about being underwater in general, but it’s otherwise a very nice ship. The pilots points out interesting features of the area as we glide downwards.

Taveau: Huh... I’m starting to enjoy myself.

Grif, staring at the pilot’s eye-stalks: .....huh. 

The water grows darker, but ahead is a dim glow of light which slowly becomes many different points of light, coming from a system of oddly bulbous pods linked together: the underwater city of Otoh-Gunga. 

Grif: Wow! This is impresive!

Pilot: It is very nice, yes? We-sa like it here. 

Grif: So, like, how do you get in without, like, letting water in?

Pilot: Ooh, we-sa have membranes! It keep the water out, but the ships go through! 

Grif: Amazing! But isn’t that a security risk? Can any ships go through, or only yours? 

Pilot: Oh, we-sa don’t worry about that. We-sa very peaceful, no have soldiers here since the invasion. 

Grif: Oh, good, I always like a peaceful planet. I come from one myself, it’s called Alderaan. 

Pilot: Does it have oceans? 

Grif: Oh, yeah, lots of oceans! But I don’t think there are any underwater cities. \

Pilot: Sound lovely. Maybe we visit sometime. 

We arrive in the city, and Rralwarr immediately runs to the most open space in the area and takes a slightly panicky breath of air. 

Taveau: Doing OK Rralwarr?

Rralwarr: *tiny Wookie noise* underwater.... 

Grif: OK, let’s figure out how we’re gonna do this! Rralwarr, I know you want medpacs. Taveau, what about you? 

Taveau: Booze. 

Grif: ..That’s all? You made us come down here for booze? Alright, fine, I’ll get you some booze. 

Taveau: You’re paying? I wasn’t aware that was part of the arrangement. 

Grif: Oh, sure, yeah. I’ll get you whatever you need on this trip, it comes out of your pay, is all. 

Taveau: I can buy my own groceries. But I will let you buy me a bottle of rum. 

The party splits: Rralwarr goes off to buy medpacs, and Grif and Taveau head to a liquor store. DM asks what I’m looking for. I say just a cheap rum. 

DM: Just... complete rotgut?  You’re looking for the Star Wars equivalent of Everclear. 

Me, ooc: not QUITE that bad. 

DM: So, space Jim Beam. 

Me: Yeah. 

DM: OK, you find that. 

The DM introduces the cashier lady, the store, and an impressive array of space booze to choose from: a number of Mon Cal grades, one which is 1000 credits (Taveau: oof. that’s unnecessary), samples of imports from other planets--the cashier notes that a few are becoming hard to get, thanks to the Separatists taking over the planets of origin. 

DM: There’s also a novelty bottle of bright green alcohol that comes in a bottle shaped like Yoda’s head. You’re pretty sure this was not authorized by the Jedi. 75 credits. The label reads “Feel good you will, hmmmm.” 

Grif: !!!

Taveau: I’m not sure I trust this, but OK?? We can share it, it’ll be interesting. 

We get the novelty Yoda booze and 1 bottle of 95-credit (fairly cheap but almost respectable) Mon Calamari black rum for Taveau’s personal use. 

As they leave, Taveau takes the rum out of his bag, takes a swig straight out the bottle, and then puts it back in his bag. 

DM: That’s very white trash of him. 

Me, OOC: You assume Taveau is white? He’s just... space trash. 

(DM argues that I showed him some pictures I found on pinterest as references and they looked like white trash. And OK they fit the general aesthetic and appearance which is why I sent them, but they don’t supersede the character description that’s on my sheet.) 

DM: So you continue walking along, noticing the tourists and the Gungans looking out across the city. It’s so pretty, you think you have to take another drink of rum to appreciate it, so you do. (Minor irritation from me having my character played for me, but it is, in fact, extremely in character, so I roll with it) Grif, you crack open that Yoda head. It is very sweet and very fruity, with a bit of citrus. It’s basically 170-proof Mountain Dew. Some of your nervousness about being underwater slips away. You decide to give Rralwarr some when you get back. 

Taveau: How’s that? 

Grif: Weird! It’s sweet, try it? 

Taveau: ...ooh. I like that more than I thought I would. 

DM: Taveau, you find yourself feeling like you’re almost ready to talk to people. It’s weird, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it. 

Next, we head to Otoh Gunga Metalworks. Naboo, being so peaceful, does not permit the (legal) sale of weapons for anything other than decoration, but Taveau wants to add to his knife collection. He’s planning to collect a knife from every planet he visits.

We enter, and the Gungan asks what we’re looking for. Taveau, being Taveau, just goes “Knives.” The Gungan chuckles.

Cashier Gungan: Who-sa you want to stab?

Taveau: Depends on the day.

CG: Me-sa kidding! We-sa no sell sharp blades, but we-sa do have good collection pieces.

Grif: Well, that would be perfect *elbow jab* sINCE YOU’RE A COLLECTOR, Taveau!

Taveau: Yep.

There are, actually, a wide variety of knives, mostly elaborately wrought decoration pieces, but down in the “historical section” are knives and hunting tools, replicas of the distant past. They have dull edges and are made of the same dark metal of the city-bubbles’ frames. There are spears, slings, and some small, almost stiletto-like knives. 

Grif: Wow, it’s so tiny! 

The Gungan chuckles: You-sa must be delicate, thesa not be for gooberfish. ...We-sa have spears for those. 

Taveau picks up one of the small knives and examines it. It’s a bit heavier than he would expect for the size and is made of one piece of metal, with the hilt wrapped in a tough green leather of unidentifiable source. It’s a stiff, non-flexible blade, very slender, the balance point towards the hilt. 

Taveau buys two of the plainer ones. 

Next, I want to find a vox box, a device which (I had learned from the manual) is readily available across the galaxy and speaks a range of phrases in Basic, and, with a good computer skill, can also be customized. 

All we can find, the DM tells us, is a novelty vox box that speaks in a Gungan accent. 

(Me: Is this really the only one?? I was gonna give it to Rralwarr as a gift, I thought it was a good idea... 

DM: That’s the only one. 

Me: I’m a little angry. 

DM: SO AM I) 

Grif thinks the box is hilarious and encourages Taveau, who was wavering, to buy it anyway. Taveau figures they can always try customizing it to be less annoying later. And then--

Grif: Bookstore! Do you like books? I like books. 

Taveau: Uh. Sure

Grif looks through the selections on galactic cultures, trying to find something on Mandalore. There are very few mentions of it, aside from a sort of cheesy fiction book title “Tales of the Mandalorian Raiders,” a story about the Old Republic. The cover shows a black-and-red-helmeted mando in old-fashioned armor--it’s more square, and the T-visor is contoured differently--stabbing his sword through a Jedi’s heart, with the wreckage of a city overrun by armies of battling Jedi and Mandalorians in the background. 

Grif seriously considers buying this book. Taveau picks it up and flips through it. It claims to be written in Mando’a blank verse, a claim which doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but whatever. There are a few words of Mando’a flung in for flavor. They’re hilariously misspelled. It tells the story of an ancient Mandalore who once allied with the Sith. He’s portrayed in a fairly unflattering light, and the book focused on his creative ways of slaughtering people. 

Taveau cackles at this a bit. 

Grif: ....Had enough to drink? 

Taveau: Yeah yeah. *shakes the book* is this what you do in your free time? 

Grif: It is now. 

Taveau: Why?? 

Grif: Well--okay, here’s the thing, I just... My life has been changing a lot lately, and I’m not really sure where I stand, you know? And I want to believe that Mij and his people are the good guys, you know, and I really think it’s so cool what they stand for, the--the freedom, and honor, and stuff, and fighting Death Watch, but I just... I’m new to this, and I don’t know them very well, and if I’m going to become a part of this I want to be sure I’m doing the right thing. So, I guess I just want to understand more about the culture because I hope it’ll help me understand Mij. 

Taveau: ..*chokes* hgnsf. Huh, OK. Well, I don’t think a book about the far past is going to tell you anything about Mij, but I think I get what you’re saying... *suppressed chuckle* Huh, well, how about this. Would you like me to cook for you? You said you wanted to learn about Mandalorian culture, hm? *Cackling* I mean--you’ve got me, I’m right here. You, uh, don’t need. *dismissive shake of the book* ...This. 

Grif is enthusiastic about this, despite the fact that Taveau is still cackling devilishly. They go grocery shopping. There’s a lot of fish, some seaweed-type wraps, and “a rather interesting sauce”: the sando-aquamonster hot sauce, with a label reading “there is no bigger fish.” 

Taveau grumbles about the lack of spices, but buys the ingredients to make a fish wrap of some sort, along with that very interesting hot sauce. Grif follows everything eagerly. He does not protest the purchase of the hottest sauce in the store. We go back to the ship and reunite with Rralwarr. There’s a smallish cooking area in the ship, basically just a counter and a space microwave. Taveau tastes the sauce while he’s making the wraps. 

Me, OOC: So how spicy is it? 

DM: To YOU? Not very spicy, but you think it’s pretty good for an aruetiise approximation. 

Let me pause here to share with you, my dear readers, some fun trivia I learned in my study of Mando’a. Mandalorian culture is full of very spicy foods. They have a special word (hetikles) for the “noseburn” you get from really really spicy foods, the ones that basically just set your entire sinus system on fire--it’s a prized sensation. Taveau was, of course, raised to have a healthy appreciation of hellishly fiery foods. Grif was not, and Taveau kinda suspects this. 

Now, Taveau (fortunately for Grif) does not have access to real Mandalorian spices, but this sauce comes close enough to earn his respect. 

He makes some fish wraps and sticks them in the space microwave for a minute so they’re warm, then drenches them in hot sauce. Grif is excited. 

Taveau: Chill, this isn’t anything like authentic, I used what I could find.. it’s just some space-microwaved fish wrap with hot sauce on it... the sauce is pretty good, though. 

Grif: Oh, awesome, cool, great! Is there, like, a traditional way to eat this or 

Taveau: Just. eat it

Grif: OK! 

M: Grif takes a big forkful and stuffs it in his mouth. 

DM: CON SAVE! 

M: (6) 

DM: You would let loose with every foul word that you know, except that your mouth hurts too much and you can only get out an incomprehensible sound of pain. 

Grif: WREEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Taveau, at this point, is on the floor, just choking with laughter. 

DM: Grif, you scramble for the closest liquid--which is the bottle of Yoda liquor. It cuts the burn a bit but you do not feel well and you run off to the refresher to rethink your life. Taveau meanwhile is just losing it with laughter and calls after Grif “Kandosii!” 

Rralwarr: What did you give him?! 

Taveau: Just hot sauce. Try it! 

DM: CON SAVE! (high pass) Yeah, you’re fine. It’s good sauce. You think Grif is just kind of a wimp. 

Grif still hasn’t come back. Taveau feels a tiny bit bad but also he’s still laughing. Rralwarr pretends to feel bad. He is also laughing. We eat two of the hot-sauced wraps and Taveau puts one plain, not at all hot one aside for Grif, when he feels better enough to eat. Taveau also gives Rralwarr the vox box which speaks in a Gungan accent. 

Rralwarr: ...This was Grif’s idea wasn’t it. 

Meanwhile, Grif is lying spread-eagled on the tiles in the refresher, trying to absorb all the coldness from the floor. He feels like he’s on fire and his stomach probably won’t settle down for a while. 

Taveau spends the next couple of hours sharpening the two knives he bought. He tapes one to the underside of his pilot seat so that it’s hidden but easy to whip out if needed. He’s completely finished sharpening both by the time Grif stumbles out of the refresher. 

Taveau: Hey, Grif! I left one of those wraps plain for you. It’s in the kitchen. 

Grif: hhhghhthanks uhhh I’m not really hungry right now but thanks tho

Taveau: Are you okay? 

Grif: *sniff* hhghhhhyes ‘m fine just uhhhhghh. gonna uhh. go to bed now I think. g’night Taveau. 

Taveau: I, uh. Didn’t realize it would be quite that rough on you. 

Grif: huhhh nno it’sss fineeee m just a lil tired that’s all just. yea. ‘m totally fine don’t worry about it. g’night

Taveau: Oh, hey, before you go. This is for you. I sharpened it. 

He gives Grif the other knife he’d bought on the planet, the slightly nicer one, now razor sharp, and tries to show Grif some grips he can use to fight with it. 

Grif: uhhh that’s nice but uhh maybe show me this when I’m more awake maybe. tthank you. 

He stumbles off, and Taveau settles down in his pilot seat with his knife collection. For now, it’s quiet in the ship. 

Episodes Masterpost

[captain-ezri-dax]

ALL of the questions for Q2

42. I have a question of my own! - rip

PHYSICAL PRESENCE AND GESTURE.

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? - probably slow & deliberate

2. How much physical space do they use, active and at rest? - probably not much either way. She’s a sneaky gal & taking up as little space as possible is an ingrained habit by now

3. How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd? - she doesn’t rly like talking anyway, so she doens’t rly bother trying to be the center of attention. She just hangs back & listens if she has to

4. What is their size and build? How does it influence how they use their body, if it does? - im not sure if synths have like. A certain size they’re built for cause im 90% sure they don’t grow, but i like to think she’s p small & uses it to sneak around doing her job and/or hiding from other coursers if she defects

5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why? - before she defects, just the normal courser uniform cause i think all coursers have to lmao. If she defects & gets her memories changed she’ll probably have the hooded rags outfit

6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these? - honestly i have no idea how to answer this rip

7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these? - with people, at least before defecting she probably kinda.. Doesn’t? She’ll hurt synths she needs to bring in if she has to but otherwise, she just doesn't physically interact. Depends on the object too - if a computer console needs hacking & she can’t manage it she’ll just give up & break it

8. Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell? - she is literally never at ease. Ever. She’s constantly a little stressed. She’s always around other coursers which she doesn’t like, doing a mission she doesn't enjoy or defecting & worried about being caught

9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions? - mMM shrug

10. What energizes and drains them most? - she just wants to sleep & eat pie. That’s probably all that energizes her tbh. Tho if she ever got a gf being around her would probably be a little energizing

11. How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use? - honestly i. Dont rly know. She’s definitely v quiet & only says things she has to, like mission reports or asking for pie

12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands? - she just. Isn’t. If u were trying to guess her mood on body and face expressions, there’s literally no difference between happy & excited or horny & hatred

DISPOSITION AND TEMPERAMENT.

13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed? - again she’s not v expressive before defecting but she doesn’t rly think about her day when she’s a courser? It’s all just routine & kinda numbing cause she doesn't rly wanna do the job anymore, tho being inexpressive helps her hide it. Once she defects, her inexpressiveness is definitely still there but if she makes friends her legs bounce just a little in excitement being around them & maybe she’ll even smile a little

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? - wellll she doesn’t really care about the institute at all while she’s there tbh, she’s only there cause it’s where she was made & the only kinda life she’s rly known. I wonder if she’ll get attached to a travelling caravan once her memories are changed, tho keeping her loyalty for too long would be pretty hard if she has options that might be better for her

15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives? - definitely full of doubts at the institute, she’d view herself and other synths as literally just machines like a protectron designed to do a job. (tho at some point she’s forced to kill or nearly kill a synth she was supposed to retrieve, her outlook fuckin shattered when they were scared & felt a lot of pain.) She’s a little more practical & mindful for her own needs once her memories are changed

16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like? - before she defects she probably just doesn’t. But after, Q2 dreams of pies, dogs & cute girls

17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person? - uhhh im dumb & cant work out what this means

18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why? - worst case scenario is that she doesn’t defect & instead throws herself into her courser work, starting to enjoy hurting people in bringing synths in. She’d probably end up dead if the institute is destroyed or survives & fights one-handed against the railroad. Best case is that she forgets all about the institute, gets a gf & a dog & learns how to cook something edible after like 3 years

CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS.

19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why? - She never rly likes contributing to a group, even if she knows them well, but knowing them well means she’s more likely to actually listen. She still doesn’t like large groups after defecting but can be around 2-3 people & have decent conversations, tho she shuts down if the group is any larger.

20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships? - like. Rn? In the institute? Fuckin NONE. She’s completely alone. Give her a friend

21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why? - again she. Doesn’t rly. It isn’t that she wouldn’t want a friend it’s just that. If they defect it’s v possible she could be called to retrieve them & it’d hurt her, so she just avoids the premise altogether

22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ? - honestly i. Have no idea lmao

23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? - again she. Kinda doesn’t? Most social situations feel the same to her before defecting, tho if it’s particularly long & needs a lot of input from her she’d probably just have a nap right after

24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference? - Q2- “don’t talk to me” -33 vs Q2- “hold my hand” -33.

25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? - i think, for her, it’d depend on the person she wants to know? Before defecting most relationships she has are just “i need u to do a job” or “what job do i need to do?” but after, she mostly just wants people who’d like. Actually show that they care

26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does?

ACTIVITIES AND PREFERENCES.

27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why? - uHH my brain is blaaaank sorry

28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why? - probably just practice cooking. She wants to be able to not rely on someone else to cook for her, or having to spend like 500 caps on one meal

29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative? - uHHHHH i never thought of this either oops

30. What is their preferred level of activity and stimulation? How do they cope if they get either too little or too much? - she doesn't mind a lot but if she needs to do something she’d prefer less stuff to do before her goal is completed. If the amount of shit she needs to do exceeds her limit she just powers through it w/ force. She’d stop sneaking around a settlement & instead just force her way through, hurting people if needed

31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why? - honestly like. Not rly? The only real dealbreakers are having to retrieve someone she’d considered a friend, after defecting, doing something that would actively negatively impact or hurt her. Like having to pay a lot & getting nothing back

32. Do they have any “props” that are a significant part of their life, identity, activities, or self-presentation somehow? What are they, how are they used, and why are they so significant? How would these props’ absence impact them, how would they compensate, and why? - uhhh what the fuck does this mean. Is this like an actual object or something she uses to like prop herself up or????

THINKING AND LEARNING.

33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things? - she probably just observes. She’s relatively patient & can observe for a long while if she has to, tho i wonder if institute synths can just have knowledge programmed into them

34. How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why? - before defecting she probably just. Doesn’t think of the surface world? To her it’s a ruined irredeemable mess. After defecting she probably still thinks it’s a mess but it’s her mess

35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them? - uh

36. How much do they rely on their minds and intellect, versus other approaches like relying on instinct, intuition, faith and spirituality, or emotions? What is their opinion on this? -idk she probably just doesn't think on it unless someone points it out, but i’m she she’d rely more on instinct & intuition, tho she can think on problems when she needs to

37. Have they had any special education or training that colors their means of learning about or understanding the world? Conversely, do they lack some kind of education considered essential in their world? What kind of impact has this addition or lack had on them? - well i’m 100% sure her courser training would affect literally everything about her life lmao

38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? - probably not tbh?? Until she defects she doesn’t rly think on it

39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction? - who even knows i haven’t thought of this much detail about her ;-;

40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is? - she probably just has existential thoughts about whether or not she’s actually like. Alive or not? Her entire life the institute probably just tells her she’s a programmed machine, so she wonders if she’s a machine, what being alive is actually like

FREE FOR ALL.

41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why? - titty