exsiliumlogs | ( open )

Date & Time: Several days after the necromorph outbreak
Location: A VR room
Characters: Chrono + Rosette + open!
Summary: Lil bit of coping in-between zombie apocalypses and civil wars, nbd
Warnings: ~~None!~~ KEVIN AND BREAK
Notes: Feel free to tag around also! ♥

[ Chrono doesn't bother to close the door when he finally decides to try one of these rooms for himself. Something about the last few days (weeks) (months) has left him unwilling to stay in enclosed spaces too long, with no obvious path of exist. Too much like a lab or an undead-lined hallway.

But these concerns slowly melt away as he sets about instructing the AI, and the room gives way to a place that isn't a room at all.

Mountains rise up in the distance, framing a blue, clear sky, and a faint breeze rustles the treetops of a thick Michigan forest. Birdcalls ride that wind, and the air smells cleaner, fresher, than any moon base could reasonably boast. Where the blanket of trees ends, a large, glassy lake gleams in the sunlight. He takes care with this part—instructs the AI to make the water a temperature a bit too low to be entirely comfortable for swimming, knowing full well that this won't actually be a deterrent. But it wouldn't be right, otherwise.

He takes his time strolling from one familiar landmark to the next, having the computer make adjustments as necessary. He doesn't miss details, either; for all the times that Rosette brought him to this very place, his eyes had missed nothing. They were wide and all-absorbing, like someone who had been born anew and was discovering the world for the first time.

(Likely because, in all honesty, he had been.)

He stops once he circles back around to the open door—a black silhouette hanging oddly in the landscape, and the only giveaway that none of this is real. It's here that he surveys the scene as a whole, the sum of all its little memory-parts. ]

Perfect.

[ Well. There's still a thing or two missing. ]

... Almost.

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[She laughs and shakes her head.]

No, there's a lot of good times. As long as you keep living, you can find more happy things.

But... there are levels of happiness I guess. Some make you feel lighter than others.

[he thinks about that for a bit. feel...lighter?

his nose scrunches up against an itch until he has no choice but to scratch at it. the hand drops and pulls at some of the grass beside him.

different levels...]

That makes sense... [he huffs out a small laugh in his breath.] I just never think about it, like that. I'm just too busy with being happy now and then, maybe.

That's the way to do it anyway. If you think about happiness too much, it's really easy to forget that you have it.

[grinning.] You sound like an expert.

Of course! You wont find anyone better at not thinking things through than me.

I didn't mean that! [he ducks his head to hide his smile. once he's got that under control, peeking up:] I meant, you're really smart about that. Levels of happiness and things?

Heh. I don't know about smart.

[She leans over and drops the flower crown on his head.]

But... It's not bad to learn about what makes life good, right?

[his head bobs down as if the flowers are overly heavy, holding pose for a moment before lifting his head, blinking.

he lifts a hand and pokes at some of the flowers, running fingers around some of it, trying to see it past his bangs. it's like putting string on a cat's head or something.]

I, I guess so...

Very regal. I think it suits you.

[his nose crinkles with his smile.] So I should keep it?

.. I don't think it will last, outside of this room.

But I'll make another one when we make it back down.

[still picking at it, but with more care, so as not to break it.]

Will you show me? How to make them.

Of course! ... Look for flowers with longer stems. [She indicates a few inches with her fingers.] Once we have a bunch, we'll work on a few.

Right.

[he sits up so he can bend and scour around himself, pulling at flowers with little remorse for size – all this virtual little ones are getting plucked, too. he drops them in a growing pile between them that starts to snake as Marty himself scoots a little to reach further.

with a couple in his fist, he looks back at Rosette:] How many's a bunch?

[She looks over and... can't help a wide smile at the trail of flowers.]

That's a good start. We'll pick more if we need to.

[right. he pushes the meandering pile into something smaller and taller – it seems better that way to him – and sits cross-legged, grimacing at the tingle of one leg starting to fall asleep after all that leaning about on it.]

What's next?

[She had a far more modest pile she'd gathered. She picks up some of the flowers and spreads them on her skirt for discriminating selection of colors, after all. When she picks the first two, she holds it between them, fingers very slowly going through the loop and weave.]

It's like this...

[he scoots over, peering down until his head is practically hovering over her hands, kind of inhibiting that whole watching-your-own-work-thing.

cut him some slack; he's a slow learner.

he edges away to grab some flowers of his own, face scrunched up with the effort it's taking to remember what she did and visualize it...]

Like... [slloowwwly] This...

[She cranes her neck, looking around his shoulder to watch his work. After a few seconds, she makes a thoughtful sound and scoots over to sit directly next to him.

She reaches out, her hands over his. They don't cover his, by any stretch of the imagination, but offer a gentle guidance.]

Like this.

Oh. [he squints, concentrating. doing things once rarely sticks to memory, but he's going to make the effort.

he ducks his head to try and see what he's doing.]

Mm. I think you're getting it.

[Between them, the stems are looped into something of a braid, dotted by bright yellow or white flowers. Every now and then, she picks up a new one from the pile, discarding it if the stem is too short.]

[he grows increasingly more delighted as it becomes apparent it actually looks like something.]

When do we make it a circle? Now?

Hmmm. Yeah that's probably enough! [It may actually sit a little short, but there is no accurate sciences here.]

Hold your side?

Mm. [he pinches his end between his finger and thumb and peers very intently as she finishes the work.]

[She goes slow, angles wide to let him watch as she weaves the remaining stems neatly into the initial loops. It's not really a work of art, when they're done, but it's as good as any flower crown Rosette has been making.]

There! Your first one!

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