(For Esquie and Verso)

[lost_and_foundry]

Barcus Wroot is not lonely. That would be absurd. If anything, he's surrounded by too many people, mostly gnomes, mostly deep gnomes, all of them clamoring for his attention and guidance and advice. He is the leader of a powerful laborer's guild, which is firmly in alliance with an equally powerful church, and he has the ear of Ravengard and all the other gentry. Not to mention their coin, any time he wants to undertake a project for them. Never in his life has demand for his attention been so high.

It feels so empty.

But maybe he's just tired. Burnout happens. He absolutely does not miss Wulbren. Good riddance.

Getting drunk, or even tipsy, is not his style, but he's skirting the line tonight, having had enough whiskey that his ears are ringing slightly. He's not so dazed he doesn't notice the strangeness of the two...men? Talking to the tavernkeeper. One is clearly human, but the other is bigger than an Orthon and the gnome gets distracted wondering how on earth they made it through the doors...

Comments

[lost_and_foundry]

The prospect of learning something utterly new is always going to put a spring in his step. Verso clearly has his full attention as he explains the pictos, and then takes the disk out of his pocket to show off. Immediately, the gnome has a dozen questions: what makes the light? What's the power source? Are the pictos themselves running this device? What kind of crystal--

But he holds his tongue for the moment, letting Verso explain. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch the light, but refrains, nodding his understanding. "Like a camera lucida. I've seen painters use similar devices for projecting images on paper or canvas."

"Verso, this is remarkable, it's like you're showing me a whole new world!"

[amourpeint]

"You can touch it," Verso encouraged, giving one of the lines a little push with a fingertip to demonstrate, which set the whole lit array rotating slowly on the base. "It feels a little like static to the touch. Not so much the jolt as just the hum."

And honestly, he'd be happy to explain, answer the questions he can see all but bubbling over in his new companion. That wonder in the face of something new was... helping perk him up a bit more too. No wonder Esquie had lost his rocks this time.

"Hmm... I suppose it is, isn't it? I'm just pleased it seems to excite your curiosity so."

[lost_and_foundry]

"As long as I'm not going to damage it," Barcus is delicate when he reaches out, testing the feel of the projection, then running a fingertip along the edge of the disk.

"I have so many questions they're all running into one another," he says with a laugh, and his hand drops to rest on Verso's forearm, with a warm, excited squeeze that he doesn't even realize he's giving him. "I'm afraid if you let me get started you're going to find out exactly how precise and pedantic a gnome can be when sharing information."

"We should probably have something to eat and drink while we talk it over, assuming you're willing to indulge me."

[amourpeint]

"Oh no, it's not editable without a little adjustment, it's quite safe to fiddle with right now."

The projection turns lazily when nudged, feeling like a faint warm tingle- as if Barcus' hand was moving from the cool shaded air behind a curtain to the warmth of mid-afternoon sun-warmed air. The feel was similar while tracing the disc. Verso smiled at the response, that laugh. Attention zeroing in on the feel of that light squeeze to his arm, though not visibly- he still smiled at Barcus, nodding his agreement.

But it did spark a pleased little curl in him, that little bit of affection.

"Tell you what. We can set up, get some food, and get ridiculously precise and pedantic with this little discussion, how's that sound?" Verso offered cheerfully. "It'll be like the time I almost shoved a research partner into a hay pile because he insisted that a point-two degree error on the angle of one of the lines he was editing was within tolerance, and could not possibly have caused the whole thing to fail."

It had not been within tolerance, Barcus. Not in the least.