ph_logs | [OPEN] His Mission, the Transmission of Technology

1. He stood upon the last bastions of the place [Time Off Work]
Cecil has, at Gerry's suggestion, taken a few days off from working as Yorick's right hand, the Community Radio Host and the reporter for the Gazette. The process was much easier than requesting time off from Station Management and dealing with their eldritch wrath. So, with some time off, he's going to of course spend some time working with Elias on learning magic and poking at the matter of Lot 37.

But first, he's going to climb some trees.

Perhaps you're in the Festival Green, or out in the forest near town, or even out in Paradesium, when you hear the grunts of a full grown man shimmying up a tree, or see him lose a shoe in the process. Or you look up and notice there's just an impish redhead in a branch above you. Wave hello, he's waving at you!

2. Looked out on the ruins with thunder in his face [Chaos Magic Training Mishap]
The spell had apparently failed, when he cast it with Elias. It was a simple transportation spell, and it had had no effect at the time. But it had, in fact, settled lightly on Cecil, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

KERCHOO!

As Cecil lets out a sneeze (thank you, seasonal allergies), he teleports sixty feet within line of sight, in a manner that some might identify as similar to a misty step. Perhaps he's just landed on your table at one of the cafes with sidewalk seating. Perhaps you were talking to him and now he's over there. Perhaps you now have a bewildered radio host sniffling on your balcony.

Whoops!

3. An introverted spectacle in the flowers on the rocks [Community Project]
Once Cecil returns to Town Hall for work, he begins a new project, inspired by the success of the Potluck. If you're an offworlder in the Town Hall part of town (to include the Library and Festival Green) for any reason, you might get a journalist running up with a notepad.

"Hi, hello, hi, sorry to interrupt your whatever-you're-doing, but I just wanted to ask if I could have a recipe from your homeworld for a project I'm working on. Bonus points if it's something that could be created with the ingredients on hand here!"

Even if you're in the Library, he's at full Cecil enthusiasm here, his smile bright and chipper and insistent.

4. The daisies on the ramparts blowing free [Wildcard]
Come at me at darkersolstice on discord

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"Yeeeeeah." Cecil lets out a sound that isn't a laugh, but might have been intended as one. "The famine, you know. And getting the radio up and running. And...Yorick."

"Getting my townhouse and farm fixed up, then planting season. And a dozen other things." César knows that laugh too well. "... how are you doing?"

It's asked casually, but he means it. César holds off biting into his apple.

Cecil shrugs, trying to put together the verbal components of an answer to that question and failing after a moment. Which is better than the automatic 'I'm fine', right?

César... is surprised that he is. Not completely, but he would've struggled with this question when he first got here. But that thought only lasts long enough to realize that he has the capacity to be here for Cecil at this moment.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

There's a thoughtful pause.

"How often do you think about that dream we had, about the past of this island?"

Ah—César pauses, then nods in understanding. "Once or twice a week. Sometimes more."

"And how often do you compare yourself to the you who you are not currently being?"

César thinks about that, then makes a little noise. "... Sometimes? But I've honestly purposefully kept myself too busy to think about it. I probably will now."

"We are taking a break. Is this not the time to do that thinking?"

Cecil gestures with his apple casually.

César remembers his apple and looks down at it with a soft smile. "I suppose it is. ... is there something in particular eating at you?"

He takes a bite, intending to listen.

"Too few legs."

Is that a particularly useful answer? Probably not, but it's easier to ease into things than to jump to the bigger emotional shit.

"... I was the opposite direction. Prosthetic hands." César sees the easing.

"I was a centaur, and a close colleague of Dr. Coldwood. That was before he and Neil divorced, you know?" Cecil leans against the trunk of the tree quietly.

César looks mildly confused. "I didn't know Neil was married. ... but that's an aside. Please continue."

"Well, he isn't now. But he's involved with Jon Sims." And if that isn't a complicated expression Cecil makes, mentioning Jon.

"Jon Sims..." César looks at his face. "That's a problem?"

"No, it's not. I mean, he's not. I mean, it's up to you to decide to what degree Jon Sims is or is not a problem. And we're cool now. I think. Probably."

It's complicated!

César just looks further confused. "... I'm lost."

He doesn't understand drama.

Beat.

"We're in a tree."

"Yes, we are." César's further confused on how this is relevant.

"How lost can you actually be, then?"

"Uh." God, César's so confused. "I meant I'm lost on what we're talking about. You're mentioning being a centaur, then Dr. Coldwell? Who was married to Neil? And you're okay-not-okay with Jon Sims who is now involved with Neil?"

He pauses for a moment.

"... Is this gossip?"

"Wait. You asked about Neil and Elias's marriage without intending to gossip? Coldwood, by the way, not Coldwell. But that was obviously gossip material!"

César just starts cracking up and shakes his head, grabbing onto the trunk of the tree to not fall off. "I've never figured out how it works!"

"Poorly, apparently." But Cecil's more amused than mad or anything.

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