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The grownups are all very busy, but the children are all bored.
Bored or having nightmares. But Tasárinon was not on a ship and did not see the people dying and has only heard it thirdhand and can't exactly have nightmares about the look in his mother's eyes - well, he probably could, but he hasn't - so he's bored, and he is drawing on the floor. It is an absurdly intricate drawing. He has been embellishing it for three days.
"Anyway, that's all I wanted. Come find me again if you ever want the best fighter we can design instead of the most crippled one that could still be useful."
And he sits back down again, extending his hand for Huan to lick it, and frowns at a screen full of writing that's definitely not written in the Elven alphabet.
"I can't learn to read for some fucking reason, so my father invented me an alphabet that doesn't wiggle around on the screen. I can toggle to normal Quenya if you need to be able to read something -"
"No, it's fine, just wondering," Cam says, installing the font in case he ever needs to write something at Tyelcormo. "If you decide to pick up any languages from my world your key phrase is probably 'dyslexic-friendly font'."
"I fly things and shoot things, we have enough polyglots floating around that I tend to trust them with the 'learning things'. Though we've all been practicing Thindarin because we're going to need it."
"I do not have a dyslexic-friendly Thindarin font, alas. Anyway, I'll get out of your way."
If he's willing to land a lot more people in Brithombar, they're at the stages in their support planning where more people can be landed. There are also teams ready to go if he wants to land evacuation preachers anywhere else. Medical has another list of drug requests.
He will fill drug requests and fly people to Brithombar! He is not sure where else to land evac evangelists. He will ask Maitimo while he's in Brithombar.
Anybody want an umbrella? Cam for his own part just puts a wing over his head, and texts Maitimo that he is here with people, where to?
"Means I can save him some time, probably a lot of it."
Yes, Maitimo says. Tell him I said to come over.
"Actually now I got it."
I sent Macalaure a mental map because I can't send you one, comes the message a bit later, and Macalaure points him to it. It's a clear, empty space.
"Hello," Maitimo says. "Will you build this into a concert hall? I have the designs all here though Macalaure should look over them to make sure they're adequate. My people are going to be desperately unhappy living in this city. I'd love it if bombers could only superficially damage it, and the top is designed to look already thoroughly bombed out. I think I did the acoustics right," he says to his brother, "but I don't have a computer here so I was going from memory."
Macalaure looks at it. "Says he with the memory magically extended to fit a million biographies into it."
"You took as many copies of that as I did."
They hug.
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