07.01g: The Seventh Winter (Refreshments)

[Rasanam]

"Oh, off and on for most of my life, though I only recently - in the past few years - acquired the power and resources to make any of them. Which, of course, led to the discovery that I needed to do quite a bit of redesign to make the thing actually work."

Rasanam pauses, and then - realizing that 'most of my life' is a totally uninformative value, adds, "So that's roughly a century, in Amber years, and in terms of my personal timeline. How long it's been here in Amber since I started drawing... I have no idea."

[khadjair]

Cameron pauses for a moment with a bit of gape, then shakes his head with a smile. "I keep forgetting what I am apparently heir to, and what I am in the presence of. I am barely a quarter century in experience..."

He takes a swallow, an sets the now empty glass down. He eyes it for a moment, concerned, then shrugs. "Now I wish I'd brought my satchel. Though it would've marked me even more the rube."

[Rasanam]

"I wouldn't worry too much about that; to be fair, I counted most of that century as childhood. Still, if you feel you need more experience, I'd think it would not be too hard to find; one of the planes of my home had the peculiar property that living things there did not eat or sleep or age... or heal or grow; it was something of a wasteland dotted with the occasional wizard's fortress. A place like that, with fast enough time flow, and... Come to think of it, I might have use of such a place myself, just for the time to build some of my larger designs, or work on spell research. Perhaps we should go looking, after this festival is done?"

[khadjair]

"That sounds like a most interesting place. Easy to get lost in. but definitely a good place to practice one's studies."

He seems to be thinking, ticking things off in his head as he considers complications, then chuckles.

"Sorry, losing myself in my head. It's an interesting notion, though I suspect were I to vanish again so soon I might make a few here quite cross."

[Rasanam]

"Well, that's part of the point of picking somewhere fast time; I don't know how far one can push it, but if you could fit a decade into, say, an evening, and had trump to get back and forth..."

"Anyway, a pleasure meeting you, and we'll have to compare notes in more detail after dinner. Right now, though, I think it's probably about time I got to my seat."

(OOC: Normally, Rasanam would invite Cameron to join him and Lyra. I am not going to do this for entirely metagame reasons - I've found that too many players in one thread makes forum games move even slower than they normally do, and the table with Morgana is looking like it will have three players already. Four players is still workable, but I think it would probably be better for Cameron to head elsewhere; at this point I'd guess there will be a table with Raven and Aibne, and one with Alystrakos and ...maybe Asai?)

[Joshua]

A gloved hand (Aviator glove) reaches up from under one of the tables, swiping a hors d'oeuvre tray of cookies. Cameron is likely the only one close enough to spot it.

[khadjair]

Cameron blinks at this, then "accidentally" drops an empty tankard, not made of glass obviously, then kneels to pick it up, taking advantage of the opportunity to get a look under the table. Lifting a cloth if necessary to get a look.

[Joshua]

Underneath is a curious fellow. He's got aviator goggles, a light fligth coat, baggy pants, and... is hunched over the cookie tray, just about to pull his scarf down to munch. There is what looks to be a two-handed sword handle peaking out from over one shoulder, although a two handed sword can't possible fit on his person the way he's sitting. He looks up as you move the cloth. Tensing at the invader.

[Rasanam]

Rasanam backs up a step as the tankard falls, but pauses when it becomes clear that this was a deliberate tactic rather than (just?) the act of a drunk orc.

(OOC: Mostly posting just to say that Rasanam hasn't actually left the thread yet.)

[khadjair]

Cameron leans in a little under the table, eyeing whomever might be underneath.

"Maybe I've had a little too much to drink," he says finally, winking at the figure hiding under the table before standing, sliding a foot so his boot is near the tablecloth, picking up an hors d'oerve to munch on it. "Ba nervous habit, especially on an empty stomach."