Twenty Billion Questions

Log Info

• Title: Twenty Billion Questions

• Emitter: Warrick

• Characters: Warrick, Schara

• Place: Lower Trades/Goblintown Divide, Retzner Estate

• Summary: In which Warrick's daughter Cynthia interrogates Schara.

Lower Trades/Goblintown Divide, Retzner Estate, Morning

Some time ago...

The background noise of the city is a dull thrum of mercantilism, conversation, and things mutedly clanging and crashing in the distance. Muted, as the inside of the Retzner estate was full of things strewn about that muffles sounds.

It's a fair abode. Somewhat slim, but a two storied townhouse with a knee high iron gate at the front. The first floor was a living room with a fairly large couch and several chairs, adjacent to that, a dining room of a square table, and filling out the rest of it was a kitchen in the back that had a backdoor that spills into a small back yard. Upstairs held the bedrooms, three of them.

The things strewn about though, were on the walls. Paintings and embroidery decorate the place densely. Of the city landscape, depictions of a younger Warrick, a young woman with black hair and bright green eyes, a small child between them, and various other people, folks, animals, flowers, so on and so forth. It's very homely.

Speaking of the small child, the stairs creak as bare feet try to quietly descend, bedraggled hair black hair strewn about as the teen gives a big yawn, covering her mouth as her nightgown is haphazardly and lazily crinkled about on her.

Warrick's home had one more occupant than usual that morning, and neither his sister nor parents. Fast asleep on the couch was an elf, almost face first into the pillow they were using. A large sack was leaning against one arm of the furniture, and a pair of wooden arms with numerous straps hanging off the ends of them were set down next to the bag. The blanket they were using was crumpled up on their legs, the elf having given up attempting to fix it long ago.

Cynthia gets to the landing, doing a final hop to clear the last few steps at the turn, a practiced motion that's been done a dozen dozen hundred times. Bare feet plod against wood, and she steeetches up to the ceiling!

She starts to walk on by, not noticing anything out of the norm until- huh? What's this bag? Arms? Her attention drifts over to the figure sleeping on the couch. The teen blinks wildly. There's a glare upwards, and several hand gestures given that way before she takes a tentative step forward towards the elf. Peers. Then slips into the kitchen.

It sounds like things are being poured.

The elf in question does not react to any peering or noise in the the room. After a few minutes however, there was a very quiet yawn from Schara. A few minutes of shuffling, and one leg raised almost perpendicular to the couch carried the blanket with it, and Schara leaned up to grab the blanket and pull it back up with their teeth, before promptly face planting into the pillow they were using.

"I should have properly accounted for the diuretic properties of the alcohol I was drinking last night." the muffled voice of the elf muses out loud. "It has been three months and two days since I have had a headache similar in severity to this."

After some of Schara's ramblings, the pouring stops, some cabinets open, something is pulled out of tin. Grinding sounds, then tapping before things are set down. "That's why you drink a lotta water," a girl's voice comes from the kitchen, her stepping out with a pitcher of water, a cup of water with a metal straw in it, and a white powdered medicine on a piece of parchment on a small tray as she steps over to coffee table to place it before the elf. "Alchemist's kindness," she nods towards the medicine. "The heck you doin' in my house?" she asks with her hands on her hips.

"Yes, you are correct, this is my own fault for not taking the time to drink more water and-" The muffled voice answers before cutting itself off. Schara rolls over to see Cynthia, and pulls up into a sitting position, squinting from the headache. "Ah, right, sorry, Cynthia, that is correct, yes?" They continue, looking at the drink and bowing their head. "Apologies, I did not wish to make use of your home, but I was bringing Warrick home from the tavern with me the other day, and I did not think I should be walking home alone with my valuables in the state I was."

Cynthia nods, "Mhmm. Yeppers, that's me," she says, smoothing down her nightgown before reaching over to dump the medicine into the cup of water, using the straw to mix it. "Meh, don't worry 'bout it, dad doesn't really bring people home, just surprised."

She blinks. Then peers at the elf. "You brought dad home?" she echoes. "Wait, hold on, he actually went out and did something? When did- are you two friends?" she starts to ramble.

"Well, I am glad that I got the address your father gave me correct." The elf nods slowly. "I understand that, I believe he wished for help returning home due to the amount of alcohol he was drinking that night, and I wished to make sure that they got home safely."

Schara stops, and her head tilts to one side. "Well, yes, he did go out and do something, but it was only chance I ran into him at the tavern. And, yes, we are friends, that has been established now, did he not tell you?"

After pushing the medicine water closer to the elf, Cynthia pads over to one of the large plush chairs, all but falling into it as she lays haphazardly sideways across it. "Huh. That's... normally he's kinda simple..." she muses.

She blinks at the elf. "He did, but I didn't really believe him," she answers, brutally honest. Her gaze drifts to the art on the walls, landing on the young woman depicted. It shifts back to Schara. "Dad's really hard to become friends with. Trust me, I've tried to get him to get out more often. What did ya do to convince him?"

Schara leans down to take the drink, wincing slightly from the taste and promptly shaking their head, which only caused another wince from the headache before the elf sighs and empties the glass. "Thank you, that should help." The artificer notes with another tilt of their head. "Is that comfortable? It looks as if it would offer improper support." They wonder aloud. "Ah, good, I am glad he told you at least, as I do not wish to be someone he is ashamed to refer to as a friend."

She closes her eyes for a moment before tilting her head. "I have not found him difficult to get along with, but I will trust you due to being his daughter and likely knowing him well. "I do not know if I did anything in particular, it would be difficult to determine what actions resulted in him wishing to be my friend, to be honest."

Cynthia reaches over, pouring out another glass of water for Schara before giving them a thumbs up and rolling to sit in the chair upside down, her black hair spilling out to the ground. "Yeh," she answers to the comfort. "I dunno why he would be, he talks about the stuff you two do a lot." A beat. "Like, you do some really cool stuff, like shoot fire and stuff, and you're really smart. Says he's learned a lot from you."

She stares at Schara, the teen upside down on the chair but talking like nothing was remiss. "So. Are you from here? How long? What's your favorite drink? Do you like spicy food?"

"Well, I can think of several potential reasons why someone would not like to be my friend." The artificer half frowns, before shaking that away and smiling instead. "Which is why I count myself lucky to have the friends which I do, I am not saying I would not wish to be my friend, more that I would understand those who would not wish to be. I did not know he mentioned what I do, but yes, I guess by that definition, I do shoot fire."

The elf pauses, grabbing the straw from one glass to transfer it to the other. She does not drink, and instead tilts her head to one side. "Ah, I am not from here, I am from a small town on the outskirts of Llyranost." The elf answers. "I have been here for ten months and three days, and my favorite drink is apple cider. And I do like spicy food, but I do not go out of my way to eat it due to the extra expenses of ingredients. You are asking a lot of questions?"

Cynthia shrugs, which is a motion that makes her slide down the chair some. "I dunno, he seems to like ya. Talks about how much effort you put into stuff you make and how intricate it is," she relays." There's a light grin, her peering at the bag at the end of the couch. "A bunch of other neat stuff too, it sounds so cool."

She listens, bobbing her feet off the back of the chair, a brow raising at the exact answers given. "It's not that much more expensive," she opines. "There's a noodle stall I get spicy stuff at all the time and it's like a copper more. Totally worth it."

She squints at Schara. "Well, yeah. If your dad didn't bring any friends over for like, ten years, you'd be asking twenty thousand questions too. Except like, I'm fourteen, I usually get a pass for asking two million questions, I 'unno how its like for elves. Aren't you like, three hundred?"

"It is not much more expensive, but it is still an extra expense at times. And unless you preserve the peppers used, then they have to be used quickly." The artificer notes. "A copper extra is fine in most circumstances, however."

The elf tilts her head again. "Ten years is a long time time in this context, has it been that long?" The elf asks in return. "I do not mind answering questions, it is just a lot, and if you have so many from not asking them for some time, I will do my best to answer them. I am not three hundred years old, though, do I look three hundred years old I am only one hundred and sixteen, so I am not that old by the standards of my own race."

"Yeah I'm gonna keep it real with you lady, you're over thinking that. If ya like something and it makes you happy, it's worth the little bit," Cynthia huffs, turning to sit on the chair properly. "Well I mean yeah, sorta. Of course people come over every now and then. The Vardamans, city officials, Slatey, auntie and the grandparents. But like, no one /new/."

She blinks at that revelation. "... you're how old...?!" she whispers in disbelief. "I mean, uh, shoot. I've only met like three elves but holy moly. Uh. No? I think? You look kind young. But... maybe a bit older? You look tired. Kind of like dad. But not like, a hundred plus. Dang that's like... eight of me! What did you do before all the fire shooty stuff?"

"Perhaps I am overthinking things, but when you do not have a lot of money, then sometimes a copper is enough to get some vegetables or an egg or two to go with your meal." The artificer shrugs, which looks rather odd with the complete absence of any arms. "I can count myself lucky to not need to deal with that as much. But it would not be a good idea to completely forget that, either."

Schara Takes another sip of her water, and the elf nods again. "I would not be surprised if I look tired. As for what I did before all the, fire shooty stuff? That's a large period of time with several different answers based on the moment. If I had to say one that made up the majority of the time, I worked on a farm."

Cynthia tilts her head to the side. "I mean, I guess... still okay to do something nice for yourself now and then.." she murmurs, rubbing her neck.

She rubs at her face, returning to watch the elf. "Do you not get enough sleep? Dad says sleeping too much can you tired too." She blinks. "A.. a farm? Woah. That's cool!" she grins. "Did-did you like, grow things? Or did you herd animals? What do people in your country usually grow?"

A beat. "What's ya favorite thing to do on the farm?" she blurts out.

"Oh, I do try to get enough sleep. I'm not sure what the issue would be with Warrick, but as for my case, I just end up sick somewhat regularly, which leaves me tired. I will be alright, most likely."

"Yes, a farm, and I think it was cool as well." Schara answers with a small nod. "We grew trees. It was an apple orchard, to be precise, though we did grow vegetables and the like, but only for our own use. Most of the things grown are not that different than what is out hear. Potatoes, carrots and onions, peppers for seasoning, and grain for flour or other purposes, things like that."

The artificer tilts her head to one side. "My favorite thing to do? Well, I think my favorite thing was processing the harvest, which was always enjoyable."

"Oh, you get sick a lot? I know what that's like, Mom got sick a lot too," Cynthia shares. "She looked really tired too, but that didn't stop her from painting all the time." The teen's attention shifts to the homely art on the walls for a brief moment.

Only for it to return with interest as she learns about farm life. There's a giggle. "I guess that's why you like apple cider so much! That's so cool, lots of trees! I guess there ain't much different here than there. I been on a farm a couple of times, but I was really young, so I don't remember it that well."

She taps her chin. "Is it because you get to eat fresh apples?"

"No, I wouldn't let it stop me from doing things, either." The artificer agrees with another small nod. "That would be a fair assumption, and a correct one, Cynthia." Schara answers. "We would take the apples which were not as good looking for selling, and press them into cider, which was always a good treat, especially after all the work which went into harvesting them."

"Yes, it was a large part of why I enjoyed it, though they were often baked or cooked into other dishes. And I guess I liked it later on because it meant everyone was close to home working on things, so I got to see everyone for a while."

Cynthia glances from the artificer to the arms that lay beside the bag at that. "Good, it's important to keep trying," she says, drifting her attention up to the ceiling where the bedrooms lay beyond. "Mmmm. That does sound pretty good. I haven't really done anything like that except work in grandma and gradnpa's store every now and then..."

She grows pensive, kicking her legs off the chair. "... but if you liked it so much with seeing everyone, why are you out here in Alexandria?" Sharp, yet blunt, kid.

"Well, I'm sure they appreciate your help, and I'm sure that Warrick does as well. Maybe you should offer to go help them again?" The artificer suggests, before they stop, tilt their head again, and this time, Schara sighs. "I did like it then, yes. But there are a variety of reasons why I chose to leave. I wanted to come and learn more about artifice, which would probably be one of the main reasons." They answer, not entirely truthfully.

"I mean, I guess I can. It gets a little boring sometimes," Cynthia shrugs. "I like to see what the city is up to instead. But... I probably should."

She watches Schara as they speak, her father's slate eyes reading the elf as best they can. "I mean, yeah. This is a good place to learn. Since you have those fancy arm things," she gestures over to the prosthetics. "But just one reason of a lot, I guess."

She kicks her legs. "Um. Schara. Question. How's... dad doing? I know he says he's fine but he says that all the time. I 'unno how much ya'll talk, but if he's bringing new friends over..."

"I understand, and well, you don't have to go all the time, but I'm sure they would appreciate it. I remember my grandparents were always happy to see me and my family." The artificer considers. "It is a very good place to learn, and there's all sorts of materials and books I could never get back home. It is a major reason, since I didn't have anything I could use back home. Some wooden arms, but you can't really use those properly."

The elf stops, and she thinks for a long time. "I don't know if I can say for certain with how well I know Warrick, and how much I should share about him." They answer after some time. "I don't know if I would say he is doing fine, but I think that based on what I have seen, there are at least improvements in how he is doing. We both like talking to each other it seems, and he does seem to like going out and doing things."

Cynthia rubs her arm. "... yeah, I guess I can go over there today, I don't have school..." she mumbles. "But uh, yeah I guess regular wooden arms would be very good with farm stuff. I dunno what's in the artificer guildhall it's a bit... spooky. And loud."

She listens attentively to the answer, seemingly discarding the tiptoeing that starts off. But she leans in at hearing a proper answer-

She blinks. Sticks a pinky in her ear to clean it as she looks wide eyed at Schara. "Like talking to each other? Going out and doing things?"

Her voice dips to a hushed whisper. "Schara, he like... normally doesn't do that. Well, he used to sorta, but like..." She trails off.

"... huh. Are you two-" She stops short. Grins to herself. "Tables have turned, old man..." she whispers to herself.

"No, it's not really enough to do much with them. If I tried to carry most things, they'd either break, or get pulled off, which is not ideal." The artificer answers. "That sounds like a good idea. Just make sure to let Warrick know you are going first, if he is okay with it."

Schara stops, and tilts her head. "Yes, talking to each other, I've helped him with a few jobs, and we went out to throw rocks at the river one time. Why are you being so quiet?" She asks back. "I guess if he doesn't normally do stuff like that, then I'm happy he is doing more things again, but what tables are you turning?"

"I'll let him know, I always leave him a note," Cynthia says, waving off the worries. "He doesn't really mind as long as I'm not skipping out on weapon practice and school."

She gives a cheeky, mischievous smile. "Oh nothing. Don't worry about it. He teases me a lot about my best friend and me. So now /I/ get to do the same back to him-"

"Cinny, please do not harass Schara," a sleepy man's voice echoes down the stair well. Stairs creaking as bare feet plod down them.

"Ah frick," Cynthia jabbers quickly before suddenly vacating her chair and storming into the kitchen. <Goblin-talk>

Warrick appears around the bend, the man looking like he too had a mild hangover. In just a simple tunic and pants, half the tattoo on his arm is obscured. All in all though, he certainly looks... a lot better than the night before. Like a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Morning," he greets. "I hope the hang over isn't too bad for you."

Pots are clanging in the kitchen.

"Well, now I am a bit concerned, but please do not be a bit too harsh to him." Schara answers with the slightest raised brow, before she looks up to the stairs, and back to Cynthia taking off suddenly. "Oh, you don't need to leave, do you?" She asks just a moment too late, as they are already gone. Schara sighs, but then looks back to Warrick. "Good morning Warrick, thank you for letting me stay here overnight." They greet back. "It was a lot, but I am feeling better since Cynthia brought me some alchemist's kindness and water. If that was your only dose then I must apologize, but I can go out and get some more if you need it?"

"No promises!" Cynthia says from the kitchen. More grinding sounds, as well as bags being opened.

Warrick lightly smiles, him stepping into the room properly as he looks at the pitcher, water, and straw. "Yeah, of course- she made that?" he blinks, peering over at the kitchen.

A thumbs up sticks out from the door frame before work is resumed.

"... huh. Oh- No no, don't worry about it, I usually keep a good amount stocked," he waves off the concern. "Want breakfast? Cinny likes to make it."

"Oh, okay. Please try at least, even if you can't make any promises." Schara calls back over the couch where she was sitting, before turning back to where Warrick was. "Yes, she did, I think she overheard me unhappy with myself due to not preparing properly for drinking, so she brought me some water and alchemist's kindness." She answers, before hanging turning on the couch to pull the wooden arms onto it one at a time with her feet. She stops to consider with her head canted again, before nodding once. "That sounds nice if it would not be a bother to anyone in doing so. Would you like for me to pay for the ingredients?"

There's no reply from Cynthia, as it seems like she's getting things together in the kitchen. Warrick smiles. "I'm glad. She's a good kid."

"Sometimes!" comes from the kitchen.

He warmly chuckles at that, stopping by Schara as they get their wooden arms. He watches them briefly before shaking his head. "I am not going to wish for a friend to pay for a meal I invite them to. Especially not in my home. We're not wanting for food."

He waits a beat. "... forgive me, but I have to ask- would it be alright if I watched or helped put those on?" Warrick asks, curious. "Just in case something happens when we are out on jobs."

"How do you want your eggs, Schara?" Cynthia suddenly says from the kitchen as a distinct -tap tap, /crack/- of an egg breaking follows after.

"Well, if you're certain, I just do not wish to impose, that's all. If it won't cause any issues for you, then I will have to accept, and it seems that I am already being accounted for in the preparations, yes?" Schara answers as she stops to listen to some of the work in the kitchen. She stops to tilt her head towards Warrick. "You asked that strangely." The artificer responds bluntly. "I would appreciate your help, perhaps with the second arm? These are not too difficult to work with."

Schara grabs several straps which were on the end of the right arm, adjusting two of them with her teeth. Schara looks to Warrick and pauses, before pulling the harness on over her head to wrap around the left shoulder. "Normally I would put this on underneath my clothes, but now is not a good time for that, and I can show what I am doing easier. The cup of the arm just goes on to where my shoulder is." They explain. "I have to adjust the straps in the back beforehand since I can't reach them, but it is best to do the front and back after putting it on if someone is helping."

"Ah! Apologies, but I will have the eggs fried, if that is alright." Schara answers, realizing the question that was asked as she jumped into an explanation.

Warrick thumbs a shoulder over towards the kitchen. "I've got a growing teen in there, trust me, we got enough food. She eats through everything in a week," he chuckles. Though, him being called out makes him falter some, an embarrassed look crossing his face. "I... merely just wished to not offend you is all. Some people are particular about personal space," he explains, letting his voice drop a bit so it didn't wander into the kitchen.

He steps forward, about to hold a hand out but watches on with some amazement as the first arm is looped on with mere foot and teeth alone. "... that's incredible," falls out of this mouth, shaking his head and sitting down on the coffee table across from her. He reaches forward, assisting with tightening straps where needs be before he picks up the second arm to help looping that one around. "Huh. It is rather straightforward..."

"Friiiiiiiiiiied it is!" comes from the kitchen. "And bacon and strawberries and pancakes and..."

"So be it, I'm glad you are doing well and being prepared." The elf nods in agreement, before she tilts her head again. "It's alright Warrick, you're my friend, and you were already leaning against me when we were returning from the tavern, yes? But thank you for the consideration, I am not offended." She points out.

"What is incredible, Warrick?" They ask curiously, before letting Warrick work on the second arm. Where the arm would go was surprisingly clear and well healed, whoever removed the limb did a good job. "It is quite simple and straightforward, the important part is making sure everything is tightened properly so it responds the right way to movements."

One brow raises at the answer from the kitchen. "You are doing a lot for a breakfast it seems. That is kind of your daughter to go through that much effort."

The sounds from the kitchen stop briefly as padded feet near the threshold, only to return back to cooking noises. A light sigh leaves Warrick, "Of course, you're right. I apologize for being... awkward."

He blinks at them. "The way you use your feet, that's all," he answers, carefully setting the cup of the arm on Schara's shoulder. He reaches around, easily strapping things down. Which, makes sense, considering the amount of armor he wears and all the buckles and straps on those. A few more nudges, and he pulls away. "Right, hopefully those sit right."

He looks over to the kitchen, and just simply chuckles. A warm smile on his face. "I think its one part kind and one part 'my daughter eats through the larder faster than an athlete'."

"Heeey! I'm /growin'/ here!" Cynthia cackles from the kitchen. "You guys want coffee?"

"Sure," he calls back, turning back to Schara. The man rises to his feet before holding a hand out to Schara to help them up. "C'mon. Let's go see what crazy thing she's cooking up."

"Do not worry about it. You can put up with me being awkward, so it would be unfair for me to not do the same, if I even considered you to be so." Schara points out, before she glances to the floor. "Oh, thank you, I don't think it's incredible, it's just necessary at times."

Schara looks at the arm, and flexes it slightly, only for the movement to catch at one spot. She stops to let the arm fall, and pull on one of the straps, getting it working properly. "It's not perfect, even if you adjust it right, sometimes you need to make a few changes, it's never perfect. So, thank you, you did a good job." She admits, giving Warrick a smile as she gets to her feet with Warrick's assistance. "Coffee as well? That would be good." She answers back. "I am looking forward to what Cynthia has prepared. Would you like to join me for my morning run afterwards? If you are feeling alright after your drinking." The elf asks as she heads into the kitchen.

Warrick smiles down to Schara, a small laugh leaving him. "Guess we'll both be awkward. You may not think it's incredible, but I certainly can't do that."

Helping the elf up, he nods once. "You are very welcome. Glad I can help in some way. And thanks for accepting help."

He ambles on to the kitchen with Schara. "Oh, yes, I can certainly do that, I'll join you on the run. Once I get some alchemist's kindness and-"

A square dining table is set with a fat stack of pancakes, a plate of bacon, a bowl of strawberries, half a dozen eggs scrambled in a bowl with a single plate of three fried eggs off on the side, a bowl of beans and a pot of coffee crowd the space.

And Cynthia's plate is full of everything available. "Mmt's reamy...!" she announces through a full mouth.

"... your turn to go to the market," Warrick shakes his head.

Big gulp. "Worth it."

-End Scene-