shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

Uh? Because I can, but the thing with this place is that anything I can do everyone else can do too here, so nothing I could offer as proof would actually work. I don't want to fight with you! I just didn't want anyone to think I'd just sit there and watch instead of helping if everyone was dying! I don't even want my abilities to be the first resort, that would be stupid and everyone would stop thinking and I'd get cross!

 

Spoiler: big image

 

Spoiler: Sad puppy

 

-bug hissing increases-

 

Spoiler: Even sadder puppy

 

-Refractor maintains in position, staring Primus down. He doesn't like people barging in, especially not con artists-

 

Spoiler: the saddest puppy

...Gonna just. Go away now, I guess. -shuffles off-

 

-He gives a little snort and folds his wings back.-

 

*Itch rolls over and lets out an attention seeking SIGH. Someone feel bad for her before she makes someone feel bad in general.*

 

*He's going to kick her again, but harder.*

 

???? Speed is the most important skill for-- right. Right. Different culture, different priorities, example not meant in the specific.

Skilled labor is... specialization, then? Er-- hm. Anyone can patch a hole or report things in line of sight, but medics and scouts have further training, can do more things with less chance of failure. Am I understanding correctly?

Hm. Alright. Would count that as "circumstances in which one should not adopt a newspark," but... back to impractical organic biology.

...clarification is appreciated, but that's the stupidest education system I've ever heard of.

Ah! Alright, that makes sense, thanks.

(...Ros's aft, how much do I owe for all these answers?)

Is this a species thing or a cultural thing? I thought humans have many cultures. (...and yes, I do think that reaction is stupid, if you harass the people who bring in fuel enough they won't sell to you???)

...is it bad that I'm finding "willing to fight a literal deity" kind of attractive?

 

Yeah, that's um. A much better way of putting it than I was coming up with.

No kidding. Both on the biology and the education system thing. It's sort of bullshit, but it's what we've got.

And you don't um, have to pay me for this or anything. I guess if it comes up in the future, you could just, uh, answer some of my questions? I guess.

It's a cultural thing, but it's a cultural thing that's sort of multicultural in how a lot of, um, farmers are treated. Like, not all humans treat farmers like shit, but some cultures dominate in terms of portrayal, and that starts to affect the cultural landscape around the world.

 

Alright, thanks! I am trying to learn how to rephrase things also, apparently that's a necessary part of the diplomatic title... =P

[She nods acknowledgement. One person can't change a planet on their own!]

...mm. Potential cultural difference. Accurate information is important; must compensate appropriately. Would certainly be willing to answer questions if that is the price Marcus would like to set!

Ah, that... makes sense in the context of a planet with widespread intercultural exchange, yes. Thanks!

 

No problem. I'm, um, happy to help, actually. And I think I'd like the future question thing. That'll be handy down the line, right?

 

=]

 

!!!!!
-his wings flutter with slightly embarrassed delight. Yes good. he impressed his girlfriend.-

 

Alright, I think I've got this down right, here is the story as promised.

[Congessi sits cross-legged in front of Kite, switching to vocals instead of her usual text-display. She will, however, be taking advantage of the dreamspace to put footnotes into a spoken story, because some things need elaboration or cultural context.]

Now, properly speaking this should be danced, but as I have no partner who knows the steps and I've never actually played a part myself I hope the story-as-spoken is enough. This is the first portion of a larger saga telling of the great romance between the embodiment of passion and the embodiment of creativity-- two of the three Shades who, traditionally, are responsible for continuing creation of mortals, the third of course being chaos.

Spoiler: Storytime!

In the Silver Lands^[1] there were two among the Thirteen always drawn to each other, as iron to magnet-- as hammer to forge. Sols, bright and shining and beloved of the Creator, She Who Casts, the Creator reforged; and Tross, dark and solid and passionate in the extreme, the Smelting Pit incarnate, without whom there could be no regeneration. As the centuries turned on, their workings brought them closer and closer; what can be forged from nothing? Without a smith, what use is hot metal? And as Shaper and Smelter drew together, Tross realized He wished to transform one love to another.

He hunted great beasts, and brought Sols their heads, their rent bodies. "Any of our crew have the strength do this," She scolded, "and what cunning is there in hunting mindless shells?"

He pulled the sun down to their smithy, a spark great and whirling and hot enough to melt even His great hands. "What purpose does this serve?" She asked. "You destroy our Lands, you harm yourself, and for what-- an offering of pain^[2]?"

He brought many and varied gifts, each grander than the last, but grand displays did not warm Sols's spark; Tross's patience wore thin, but He was as proud as he was powerful, and would not abandon his courtship. He pressed on, but the Smith was no crumpling tin-slug; She smote Her suitor as He tried to corner Her. "You will hold me gently or you will not hold me at all," She snarled, and their fight raged on for decacycles.^[3]

"What do you want?" He finally asked, as the Forgehammer^[4] bore down on His spark casing; and His crewmate relented, seeing His rage transmuted to regret.

"Respect," She answered, "I am no trophy to be taken. Observation; what have your gifts been but displays of power I myself could produce? And, crewmate mine, above all: your spark. Your dedication speaks well, when it is not twisted into stubborn pride. We all^[5] can fight; we all can alter the world around us; we all can scream to the skies above and the Creator below^[6]. If we are to be two-as-one, show me of yourself." And the Smith retreated to Her own holdings, leaving the Forge to scrape himself together.

---

[1]Silver Lands: Possibly-mythological setting, the place the Shades ruled in harmony before the Sundering that split them all.

[2]Offering of pain: Stars are closely associated with the sparks of the deceased and the domain of the Warden. To force a spark back to the living world before it is ready to take a new frame is unnatural, and while the power necessary to do so is impressive it is also said to cause the undead spark incredible pain. To offer a collection of such souls is... well. I'm sure it would appeal to some, but Sols apparently doesn't take it well.

[3]Their fight raged on for decacycles: In contrast to other legends, where the Shades will interfere with each other's plans at the drop of a platelet, no mention is made of the other eleven; this detail is used as cultural precedent for not interfering in others' courtships, no matter how unhealthy or unusual they may seem. Why none of their crewmates interfered is apparently a matter of some debate, but I wasn't much interested in theology while I had access to those with knowledge of the leading theories.

[4]The Forgehammer: Sols's traditional weapon, a warhammer capable of bending any metal to Her will with no more than a thought.

[5]We all: The pronoun used here is ingroup-inclusive in the original Licentan, referring to one's crewmates-- in this case, the Thirteen as a whole. The fact that Sols is using inclusive pronouns with Tross indicates She has not yet been so offended as to imply He should be cast out and left for dead.

[6]The Creator below: By this point in the cosmology, the Creator has retreated to the core-spark of the Silver Lands to recover from Their great battle with the Destroyer; while They do not take an active role in mythology once the Shades succeed to rule of the Silver Lands, Their influence on the Thirteen is strong.

 

-has been listening, with some interest, from his moping corner-

 

Oh, is that how they're telling that now?

Well! Let it never be said that my mortals aren't inventive!

[They ooze into Primus's moping corner, a few bold tendrils nudging against his knee. How will affection go today, and is anyone still holding a grudge from last time they blew up?]

 

'S a pretty interesting way of looking at it. Way fewer tantrums than reality, makes it sound more impressive.
-pats at the tendrils without really looking at Mala-