Everybody's Weird

Log Info

• Title: Everybody's Weird
• Emitter: Schara
• Characters: Schara, Slixvah, Patch
• Place: Artificer's Guild
• Time: January 1st, 2023
• Summary: Schara is fixing up their artifice equipment within the artificer guild's workshops. While there, Slixvah (in her Samara guise), nosily wonders what they're up to while Patch catches them both, her coming from a meeting. They both reassure Schara that their worries and pains are valid, as well as healing some lingering wounds. Hugs given around, an invitation for tea at Patch's new dorm is given out.

Artificer's guild, late afternoon.

Unfortunately, recent adventures had led to Schara's armor needing extensive repairs. While the strange mushroom creature had eaten through only the stomach area, that still meant large swathes of the underlying framework needed to be repaired, and replaced, much beyond the scale of simply replacing a few plates of armor.

This task left the elf in question in one of the many workshops off in the guild, with a small forge burning hot, and various pieces of bronze strewn about on workbenches, one of which the artificer was hunched over. Wearing a simple sleeveless shirt and purple bandana to keep their hair out of their face, Schara worked away at their left arm, which was removed and set down on the bench in a partial state of deconstruction.

A rosy cheeked wood elf in a pink jacket is snooping around the halls, peering her sky blue eyes into room after room. Eventually, her head pops in on the forge in use, crimson hair swooshing from the motion.

Blink blink. "Oh, well helloo there! What'cha workin' on?" she croons warmly, leaning against the doorframe.

Patch had been doing research, some of it bringing her here. Coming from one of the back construction rooms that was being used as an office. Her journal in hand, a quick pace causing her heels to clack on the hard floor. She's not noticed Schara or the rosy wood elf, as she's busy trying to fish her gloves from a pocket, and put them on while juggling her notes. It's somewhat graceful, but the bard's mind is clearly occupied.

GAME: Schara rolls bluff: (15)+0: 15

Schara stands up and peers over their shoulder when someone makes themselves known at the entrance to the workshop, and it is clear that the elf is lightly gritting their teeth before they turn back and undo their bandana, tying it back up over their nose and mouth instead as they file away at some tarnished parts of bronze, or at least, that was the excuse.

"I am working on repairing my suit of artifice armor, and doing maitenance at the same time." She explains quietly, turning fully to the door. "And what are you working on that brings you here?"

They glance further out, and spy Patch. "Hello as well Patch, shouldn't you stop and set those things down if you are having difficulties?"

"What am I workin' on? Checkin' on what otha' people are working on! Bein' nosy!" the woman snickers. "Looks like ya doin' good work, Scha-Scha. How ya doin'?"

The mention of Patch makes the elven woman whirl around. "Oh!" She glances down to the journal, grins broadly. Samara coos "Heya~!"

"Huh?!" Patch's distracted and muffled tone coming as one glove is one, a book is held, and another glove was in her mouth. As she puts the book under an arm, and finishes her task, she shrugs. "Sometimes you have to do things the hard way." she says, crossing towards the work room and its door.

"Samara. Schara." Patch greets a bit more formally, grinning as she stop next to not-Slix to see what Schara was doing. "It's good to see you both. Unexpected." a grin broadening. "But, good."

The elf blinks, squints for a moment, before they nod to the woman at the door. "Oh, hello Slixvah, currently Samara." The artificer greets. "Why are you deciding to be nosy here of all places? Are you testing out this appearance to see how it works? I know that it may be surprising to see Samara here, but me? I spend a lot of time here, although I keep to myself, usually."

Samara snorts, reaching out to Patch as she comes in and looping an arm around her. "Good ta see ya too!" she grins before snickering at Schara. "Ain't testing appearances, it's just easier to walk around these halls as somethin' smaller."

Her gaze drifts to the arm on the workbench, then towards Schara. "Need help wit' anything? I heard through tha grapevine tha' ya got a big owie. Need me ta take a look?"

Patch leans into that arm, grinning at Samara as Schara speaks. "Well, I meant more that on the one day I was here, I saw you." Patch reasons to Schara, returning Samara's affection with a quick squeeze and loop of her own arm before letting it drop. Her journal is looked at, the glance from Not-Slix having been noticed with a grin. It doesn't take long for it to be replaced in the folds of her coat's front, winking.

"So this is where you do your craft?" Patch asks of Schara, curiosity creeping in her tone as she looks at the tools, and armor with a renewed interest. "Damn. It's nothing like making boots."

"Oh, but you aren't that big, and you wouldn't be the only egalrin who came by here. Why call yourself Samara, then?" The artificer asks, tilking their head once, before shrugging, accompanied by a wince before they turn back to their workbench. "You can't hear things from a grape vine. Or, you could hear from it from a grapevine, it is winter and sometimes if you're wandering a vineyard and they're making ice wine you can hear some of the grapes bursting from freezing, but that's incredibly uncommon, and has nothing to do with finding out I'm hurt."

"This is one of the workshops, I'm using this one today." They explain to Patch. "I make my own metal greaves, though, but that is not like working with leather."

Samara grins widely, her giving a return squeeze and a bump of a head against head before dropping her arm. A quiet, wordless giggle at the journal being stashed away.

She steps in a bit, also curious as to Schara's work. "Be... cause this form is called Samarathi'llin? And my wings are big," she explains to the artificer before giggling. "Hon, that's jus' an expression fo' tellin' 'bout gossip goin' 'round. I heard ya were hurt. And ya ain't answerin' if ya want some healin'."

"I was trying not to pry, but you two keep talking about an incident." Patch says, finally commenting on it, pulling away from Not-Slix to step and peer over Schara, giving her an inspection and once over. "Samara's making a good point." Patch notes, invading Schara's space, just a bit. "We both want to know if you're okay. Samar was first." a distinction made as she begins to retreat towards Not-Slix. "I just found out."

"They're just wings though, they aren't going to get in the way unless you're sitting down somewhere here. Do you need a seat?" Schara offers, taking a moment to pull at their shirt as Patch came investigating. Which didn't help much when the white shirt was spattered with blood all around the shoulder area.

"Oh, right, owie, hurt, you mean." the elf sighs, wincing once again. "It isn't that bad really, just a wound to my abdomen, but no underlying organ damage, it only reached the subcutaneous layer, exposing some muscle and damaging some." They explain. "It was just a job to find a recipe book, that's all."

"You don't have wings, ya wouldn't know," Samara fires back with a grin as she looks over the workbench. Her head bobs along with Patch, thankful for her putting some pressure on Schara. "What recipie book? Recepie for disaster? Still, it looks likes ya got hurt all over there-" she gestures to the blood spattered spots.

Patch laughs, pushing lightly on Samara to get closer. "She said she wasn't hurt badly, but she is still hurt." she coaxes the Not-Egalrin. The joke of recipe book bringing a grin.

"Schara, let us treat you. It's what friends do. We are worried when you got hurt." Patch states bluntly. "Didn't you worry with the sewer job? The acid?" she points out. "Even if it doesn't always make sense."

GAME: Schara rolls sleight of hand: Trained Use Only: 0

Schara says, “Recipe book. Just a recipe book, I did not read it, our job was to find it, and it likely had secrets the owner wanted to keep for themself. Well, inheritor, at least. Their grandmother hid it underneath the house, but it had been so long the walls decayed, and strange fungal creatures were present. Which led to my injury." Schara begins to explain, trying to hide the blood just turning into rubbing what remained of the shoulder as they sighed. "That has nothing to do with my injury on that job, and I'm worrying about other people getting injured."

While explaining, the elf winces as they shift to rest their metal hand on the workbench, attempting to sweep a round piece covered in several metal needles around the inner ring into a pile of parts, and only succeeded in getting one such needle stuck into one of their finger joints. The artificer sighs, and holds down the part with the side of their face to pull the hand free again. "Sorry about that. I guess some manner of healing would be welcome, if you are offering."”

Samara raises a brow as Schara explains further about the job in question. "Huh. Das pretty weird..." A glance to the shoulder. "I figured, but ya still hurt. And if ya worry 'bout otha people gettin' injured without focusin' on your own injuries, ends up gettin' mo people hurt."

There's still a bird under all that polymorphing, Samara glancing to the to workbench and the needle getting stuck. Patch is pushing on her, and Samara just ends up pulling Patch closer so she can get a better look.

She reaches out to help pull the part out of the metal hand, before she released it and grins. "Awesome! Hold still, it'll tingle a lil'!" she coos. Her fingers waggle, a soft white glow emanating from the hand as little white tendrils waft free. She reaches forward, grazing the injured shoulder as the tendrils seemingly rearrange the injures to be superficial. Then- "Eb elhe!" -she chants, as there's another pulse that stitches up what was potentially left.

GAME: Slixvah rolls healing hex: aliased to 2d8+witch: (4)+7: 11
GAME: Slixvah casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 7 DC: 16
GAME: Slixvah rolls 1d8+5: (4)+5: 9

Patch watches as Samara goes about treating Schara's wounds, wincing a bit as she talks about the tingling. "They told me that once, and it was more burning. I don't know. Do people experience healing differently?" she asks, just posing a question to fill the air.

"I am worried about others getting injured too, Schara. I had Slixvah make me a wand to help with healing. Samara here can attest to it." the bit not being dropped. This is the first time she's recognized the disguise. Though, she'd seen it before. "I worry about a lot of stupid things in the moment. I could do nothing but worry. I know it's stressful, but Samara already said it best. Have to take care of yourself before you worry about trying to help others. That begins with maintenance." a snort at her words, looking about the repair room. "Which, I guess you were doing. In your way."

Schara nods once to Slixvah after freeing themselves of the metal apparatus, and the artificer braces for the healing magic, wincing several times before it was finished, and still looking a bit pained as they rolled their right shoulder around.

The artificer huffs, and wraps the metal arm around their stomach. "No, I'm perfectly capable of helping people while I'm hurting, that isn't and issue. That will never get in the way of doing things." The elf grumbles. "It will never get in the way of things, I know that."

Samra grins. "Oh, I always tell people that. Sometimes it really freakin' hurts!" she cackles. "But its betta than bleedin' all ova tha place!"

She looks to Patch, a playful glimmer in her eyes at her guise being kept. "Yep, saw the wand and everything, works well!" she grins. "Lot ta worry about when stuffs goin' on and things are stressful, but best we can do is keep a cool head."

The 'elf' looks to Schara, her tilting her head to the side. Watching them. She hazards a guess, taking a breath in. "Scha-Scha? Are you okay? Like-" she leans in a bit, visage relaxing slightly with a shade of worry. "Are you okay..? I dunno what it is but I feel like somethin's up."

Patch nods to Samara-Slixvah's assessment, sighing. "I feel it. Some weight.... a promise to one's self? A 'burden'?" she says in a softer tone, the atmosphere of the conversation making her cautious, but she pries at the artificer still. "You don't have to tell me, or Samara, but know we all have our hang-ups, and things we battle. Just know you don't have to always carry such struggles alone." a motion of head made towards Samara. "A lot of us carry wounds and scars you can't see."

"I'm alright." Schara lies through their teeth, the elf walking over to a chair that was near the workbench and flopping into it. "No, I am not particularly alright, but if I make it look like I am, then people will still be able to rely on me, instead of just being filled with worry, if that makes sense?"

Samara glances to the door, her crimson hair catching some odd breeze in the workshop as it grabs hold of the side of the door and pulls it shut. "Sugar..." she coos, walking over to Schara and crouching down to her haunches beside them. "People worry 'bout other people all tha time. And if you make yourself look like you are, then you're just building on a shoddy foundation."

She looks to Patch. The faintest nod giving towards the bard in deep understanding: not all scars are visible. "Yeah. Patty's right. Don't gotta tell us. But-"

Slix-Samara turns to Schara, eyes softening as she holds her arms out towards the artificer. "D'ya want a hug? Hugs fix a lot. And I love giving them."

"Completely." Patch says to Schara with a grin. "What you're describing is... something we all go through." she says, laughing as a hand rises to run through her hair. "Samara's right. Let's get a hug, and maybe share some stories." she says, crossing towards the two again, even offering out her arms.

"Slixvah and I had a talk a lot like this when a job went bad. I felt useless, and she has too. Worry is part of it. So is learning to control that worry." she says, shrugging as she leaves her arms outstretched, motioning with her hands. "The great thing? You don't have to do it alone."

Schara sighs, and the elf closed their eyes when Samara/Slixvah stooped down next to them.

"Then what am I supposed to do, Slixvah?" They ask, a tinge of pain and frustration creeping into their voice. "If I can't reach the absolute minimum standards of almost everyone else in the world without being in constant pain, what am I supposed to do, nothing? At least if I hide what I'm feeling, then being treated as some creature in a metal suit is better than not being trusted at all, or incapable of doing almost anything."

"I used to like giving hugs too, you know. Now I can barely feel anything with them, if I'm even in a state to give one." They continue, wiping at their face with their arm, causing several scrapes on the edges of metal plates on the limb.

Samara-Slixvah scoots forward as Schara relays their worries and frustrations. "Well, we can start wit' somethin' like this-" Slender arms wrap around Schara, unflinching or abating of the metal they end up brushing against as the polymorphed elf gives this embrace a full send. Pulled in, hand on the back of the head. She continues to intone. "-you're frustrated. You have every right ta be, as there's no clean solution ta anything. However, you are not incapable. You're really frickin' smart, hon. Ya got loads of challenges before ya, and the fact that you've made it even this far is a testament to your tenacity. Which is hella impressive."

A breath. "It's okay to feel bad."

The embrace is held to one side, the shapeshifter having left room for Patch. "Patty is totes right," she hums. "Worry is totally part of it. But knowin' what's worth worryin' 'bout is just as important."

"Schara, you and I have worked together. and I find you more than capable." Patch says, including herself in that hug. Both Slixvah and Schara are squeezed, but it doesn't linger. Instead she let's Slix handle the majority of it. Schara is peeked at, emerald eyes seeking the other woman's with a small grin. "I know I don't always come across as the kind or understanding, but I know what it's like to not feel. To hide myself behind a different kind of armor." she admits, shrugging at the other elf. "I often deflect with humor, and I say weird things." examples offered as she watches them with a small smile. "You still tolerate me. Or, at least hope you think me capable." her musing ending with a sudden hesitant glance. "Or, I'd hope. I don't much know how others see me."

Schara blinks once, looking between the other two who were hugging her, and the elf sighs, doing her best to return the hug with the one arm they still had.

"I try to be capable, and dependable, when I'm out working." They note quietly, half burying their face in feathers while pulling Patch close. "But it's hard. That's why I made that helmet as part of everything, you know. The speaker on it hides any sounds of pain, and you can't see how much it hurts, either."

"And I'm not the only one with pain, emotional or physical. I'm sorry you feel like that Patch, you seem quite tolerable, and not intolerable in any way I can think of."

This is no illusion. Plumage instead is filled with rust red hair that engulfs. Samara gives Schara a squeeze, as well as Patch when she comes in with the assist embrace. "I am really sorry sugar that ya in pain a lot of the time. I ain't the best medical professional, but I can keep an eye out for somethin' fo' ya," she intones, slowly pulling away. There's not an ounce of pity of Samara's face, instead just empathy for the pain that lingers. "Ya strong. Really."

She looks up to Patch from her crouched position. There's a tut. "Girl, I tolerate you as much I tolerate the wind in my wings: fully capable of a lot, and goin' lots of places," she teases, sticking her tongue out as she stands up and takes a step back.

Patch snorts at Slixvah, looking down at the two with a wider grin. "Well, I had thought." she answers with a third shrug during this conversation. "Feeling, and showing pain aren't weakness, Schara." she offers, adjusting the front of her coat from where she sits. "Slixvah's right. You're strong, and... one of us." she muses, winking.

"I more wanted you to know, we're all weird and different. That even with what you don't like about yourself, people still care about you." standing as she crosses to pat Schara's shoulder, and then she heads for the door. "I'd linger, but I have an appointment to speak with Farland." she says with a sigh. "You two should come see my new dorm room sometime, have tea."

"You're both right, of course. Or at the very least I trust your judgements on the matter, knowing more about these things than me." Schara huffs once, settling back into her chair with everyone stepping back. "And I guess you both are kind of friends, right? It's nice to have some again."

"That's alright Patch, I didn't mean to take up your time with my frustrations or sadness, it was just on my mind for some time now." They continue with a nod to Patch. "Take care, perhaps I will take you up on an offer for tea."

Samara swats at Patch as she leaves, a grin on her face. "Of course you thought," she giggles, her turning back to Schara. "Yeah. Everyone's weird. And that's cool."

The 'elf' perks at that. "Friends! Yes!" she grins. "Friends have tea together! Come, Scha-Scha, tea! When ya get ya stuff fixed, we should /totally/ go to Patch's new dorm!"

Not-Slix reaches out, patting Schara on top of the head. "There there, the time was taken but the time was well spent. Now. Ya seem busy wit' dis stuff. I'm gonna let you be, but when ya get done I'm gonna find ya and we're gonna have /tea time/!"

She takes a step towards the door, her rusty red hair animating briefly to twist the knob on its own accord. "Oh, and Scha-Scha?" She shoots a soft smile towards them. "Thanks fo' openin' up a lil' bit, sugar."

-End Scene-