As she approaches the bridge, there's a moment of intense, eerie presence, from the direction of the unfamiliar Earth bridge, accompanied by the night growing silent and ever so slightly darker.

The first sound that breaks the silence in the insistent ticking of a clock. It sounds a bit like the bridge to Brazen did, though somehow more so without necessarily being louder.

Close on its heels, however, is a beastly noise, like someone combined a lion's roar with the hiss-rumble of an alligator and the screech of a falcon, then turned the volume way up and the pitch way down. It sounds big. It's also possible to see prismatic, multicolored light splashing off the walls of nearby buildings around the corner that leads to the bridge.

Then there's the engine of a car, revving loudly, which is promptly followed by a white SUV peeling out around the corner along what is supposed to be a foot-path, knocking over a trash bin along the way.

There's four people inside, and the driver is a man who's absolutely aflame with prismatic glow, filling the interior of the car with strange color. Thick tendrils of black cling to the roof of the car, but seem to avoid the color leaking out of the windows.

Chantal's sense, the same that points her towards the nearest bridges, is detecting this man as well, strongly enough that it's uncomfortable, like glancing at a too-bright light that just came into view. He detects like twelve bridges, all to different worlds, all squeezed into one place.

...she takes a step back in alarm when the car comes around the corner—there's hardly ever cars in the Academy, except for the occasional placid delivery van—and then squints in concerned bafflement at the figure within.

The car stops pretty quickly, when the foot-path it was driving over turns out to not connect with a larger street. The car's three passengers quickly exit the vehicle and look around with fear-wracked watchfulness, each of them dressed in golden armor that glistens in the fiery light, one brandishing a rifle and the other two wielding odd glass bows with arrows also of gold. One spots her and shouts "Civvie!" in accented English.

The man inside seems human, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, bushily bearded and thickly set. He's wearing the same golden armor as the others, and has rolled down the window of the car and is looking back at her. "You speak English? Nihongo?" He asks, loudly enough to be heard over the car's engine and the growing sounds of a struggle coming from around the corner towards the bridge.

"...y...es... are you okay?"

"Not really!"

The sounds of struggling suddenly stop, replaced by stomping footsteps. Something that looks kind of like T-Rex, but with its head covered in fucked mutant star-fish, peaks around the corner. One of the others shouts, "Kyouryuu!" which prompts all three to pivot towards the encroaching monster. The two archers both loose their arrows, but the rifle-wielder holds their fire. One arrow lands true, embedding itself in the dinosaur's cheek. The other penetrates a starfish but not the dinosaur beneath. It roars again in response, attempting to work its way through the relatively narrow corner between the buildings.

"This thing's probably not going down easy! Do you want a ride?!"

"What did you do??"

"It's complicated!"

The T-Rex is around the bend now. The archers have each nocked and loosed another arrow, one landing in the T-Rex's neck, the other lodging itself in its knee. Neither hit seems to have been debilitating. All three of the others retreat back into the car, one making rushed gestures for the driver to get moving.

"Come in or get back! We're going!"

This is all happening much faster than she is accustomed to making decisions, but between the car and the T-Rex she thinks she prefers the car. She scrambles in and fumbles vaguely for a seatbelt; it's been a long time since she last sat in a vehicle and she appears to be rusty on the exact mechanics.

Also, hang on, important question—

"Going where?"

"Kiting that thing!" He gestures with a thumb to the T-Rex, has just freed itself of the construction of the narrower foot-path.

The three other passengers are all sort of squat-standing over their seats, with their heads, shoulders, and chests held out of the car's windows, so there's plenty of seat-belts free for Chantal at least.

"Hang on!"

And the car revs and then heads on down the path, quickly enough to feel dangerous given the nature of the Academy's traffic design, but only just fast enough to keep ahead of the T-Rex as it navigates towards them. The two archers periodically pepper it with arrows, which seem to be slowly wearing it down.

"Yeep!" That was not enough time for her to put on a seatbelt. She clings to the handle above the door, squinting past the seat in front of her to try to see where the car is heading.

This is not a path where cars are supposed to be, but if she recalls correctly from when she was experiencing this scenery very differently a minute ago, that very open-looking turnoff up ahead on the right leads directly into an enclosed courtyard with a big concrete fountain in the middle, so, "Don't take that turn!"

The driver follows the advice, keeping to the path they're already on.

This is, indeed, not a street for cars, though. The need to avoid (or plow through) the occasional obstacle is slowing them down. The T-Rex is gaining on them. The rifleman seems to be getting ready to place a shot.

She doesn't have a good angle to see the T-Rex, but luckily(?) it is quite large and just the sound of its footsteps is enough for her to tell it's getting uncomfortably close. She leans forward, trying to remember the rest of the path. If she'd been down this way just one more time, she'd already know it well enough to be sure whether the left up ahead into a grassy park is as much of a trap as the courtyard or not...

Well, they'll find out soon, since the driver is taking the left right now!

"Ready, Sniper?!" asks the driver.

"Hai!" the rifleman replies.

Does it look like they've got enough room to speed up a bit, just enough to buy time and let Sniper line up a shot?

Okay, so, bad news: she correctly remembered that there was something big and bulky blocking the middle of the open park area. Good news: the big bulky thing isn't any kind of solid construction, it's just a slightly raised flowerbed with a smooth slope up from the path and a lot of flowers growing on it. If he aims just slightly to one side, between the shrubs along the border and the big tree in the middle, this is actually a pretty decent place to accelerate.

Excellent! He will do just that. The car's already in four-wheel drive, fortunately, so the slow-down from tearing over the grass is more than accounted by his briefly pushing the accelerator a bit harder.

They've got distance now, and the T-Rex's head is clouded enough with emotions and pain to not head straight for its target, Sniper lines up the shot, braces with their armor against the frame of the car, and fires.

It's loud, enough that Chantal's ears are probably ringing. The recoil was hard enough that she can feel it nudge the car forwards.

But...the thudding of the T-Rex's footsteps stops, followed a moment later by its bulk crashing into the ground not far behind the car.

"Watch the kaisei!" the driver says, getting out of the car and...drawing a sword? Made of the gold as these people's armor and arrows. The passengers get out as well, the archers still brandishing their bows while Sniper draws a sword as well.

Oh dear. They're getting out of the car. Does that mean she also has to get out of the car? What if she doesn't want to? Perhaps she will stay in the car. And lean fearfully out the door to look back at the downed dinosaur.

Well, certainly no one's making her get out of the car.

That T-Rex definitely looks dead. there's a little hole through one of its eyes that's weeping red and pink, and its snout is a little pushed in and broken from it face-planting into the ground.

Notably, that face is also no longer covered in freaky starfish. They're now crawling along the torn-up ground of the park towards the car. The driver and Sniper are stabbing starfish that get close with their swords, while the archers shoot ones that are further away.

...ah. Hmm. Non-ideal.

She gets out, checking the ground carefully in case any adventurous starfish have somehow slipped past to menace her, and picks her way through the flowers in an antistarfishward direction.

Everybody continues to not stop her. One of the archers seems to spot her as she's heading off, but doesn't say anything about it, instead focusing on killing starfish.

One of the starfish manages fling itself onto Sniper's face before they can stab it, prompting them and the driver to freak out a bit before the latter manages to cut it off, though it leaves a slick of blood across the former's faces. The two of them retreat back to the car and the driver starts...praying?

Well that's concerning!! She watches them, glancing frequently at the ground in case of further starfish.

The freaky starfish, while significantly faster than normal starfish, are still very slow. The archers seem to be handling them just fine, and over the next ten-ish minutes their numbers are steadily whittled down until there aren't any still obviously crawling around.

Then, back by the driver, there's a flash of golden light, and now there's a big block of gold in front of him, which he begins to mold like, folding over itself, into itself, until it's much smaller. Then he flattens it out, sort of tears it into two roughly equal sheets, and then bends them into a pair of helmets for the two of them to wear. Then he and the driver start tromping around the park, stabbing starfish that had hidden themselves among the bushes and flowers. The driver seems to know roughly where they are even without being able to see them.

...well, it's... good that they seem to have things under control...? What? What was that? It felt—foreign. Everything in the vicinity of the driver feels foreign but that enormous block of gold manages to have a pure enough signature to stand out amid the noise.

The swordsmen are able to finish up the remaining starfish pretty quickly, freed from the concern of getting their faces eaten. Once that's done, they wipe their swords off in the grass, sheath them, meet back up with the archers, and begin discussing what do to with the corpses, using a mixture of English and at least one other language. Eventually, the driver points over to where Chantal scooted off to, and one of the archers (bow now hung their back) heads over to her.

"Hello?" they ask, their voice quiet and with a feminine character. "Are you hurt?"

"...no, I don't think so. What... were those?" She's still repeatedly checking the ground even though presumably if the driver has stopped unerringly finding starfish it's because there are no more starfish to find.

"Those were, ano...monsters. Tokidoki- sometimes they come when Fib jumps. Two kinds, both this time. Kyouryuu, like the big one, or other kokemono, and the other, mutant kaijuu, like the kaisei, the little ones."

The more she hears of that other language, the more it reminds her of what they speak at the Academy, except it's not quite close enough for her to be confident in any translations. Probably that is not the thing to focus on right now. If she spends much time with these people she'll learn their language regardless of where it comes from.

"Is it safe to go back in the car?" she wonders. "Though..." she looks at the tracks it's left through the flowerbed, and winces. "The car might not be the best way to travel here. There are roads more meant for cars, but they're pretty rare and I'm not sure how to find one from here."

The archer (who, now that Chantal is conversing with them face to face, is only humanoid, not human, with a distinctly, unnaturally red skin-tone and some odd sort knobby bumps around the crown of their head, under their hair), nods. "Hai, it's safe. What is the common mode of transport here?"

"Well, I usually get places by walking, but I think I saw a train station once, and lots of people seem to have bicycles." She starts tentatively picking her way through the flowers back toward the car, still paying an undue amount of attention to the theoretically safe ground.

"Aaah," the archer says, nodding with a mixture of understanding and consternation. "Fukitsu. It will be hard transport cargo," they turn towards the others, who are still quiet discussing the dino carcass. "Bikes and-to trains! S'kunai roads! Not good driving!"

This prompts the discussion to end with some frustration on the others' parts. Then the driver comes over, taking his helmet back off and causing his prismastic fire to illuminate the park again. "I never thought I'd regret seeing such a walkable city, but this does seem rather inconvenient. I'm Fib by the way. Do you have any idea how the locals are going to react to a dinosaur carcass lying here?"

She casts a glance at the carcass in question and considers it for a moment before answering.

"...poorly, I imagine. I haven't—um—you're a Conduit too, right?"

He nods, a bit solemnly. "Yup. I assume you are as well? I feel...good and bad about that."

...that is confusing and she's not sure what it portends but it is too late to stop and reassess so she is just going to Finish Her Sentence. "I have—I don't know if you know about the thing where it's... hard to be in worlds that you don't have enough powers from, it feels empty and wrong and no one likes you? I have that. And I'm working on this world but I still don't have enough powers in it. So I haven't actually spoken to anyone who lives here. They flinch and run away when they see me and it's very disheartening. Anyway, for that reason I cannot be very confident in my guesses about how they might react to things. But I think the dead dinosaur and trail of destruction are likely to cause a stir and it would probably be best to be farther away from them before sunrise."

"Oh, so that's not just a thing about me, or about my whole, uh," he gestures vaguely after the scene and in the direction they came from. "That's...good? Or bad." His fires dim a little, and cracks his neck. "Well, this was just the first expedition here, next time we'll know to try and bring...I don't know, a helicopter or something? Or just a few bikes, I guess. Uh...oh!" He leans over into the car and retrieves a silver hand-mirror from inside, before offering it to Chantal. "This place seems inconvenient for both of us to meet, but having another Conduit to talk with might be nice. Plus I've got a sort of interdimensional forum set-up that me, the revs, and some other non-conduit friends use, if you've got a computer."

"...I don't have a computer," she says, accepting the mirror and tucking it into her pocket with a clink. "I—um—I don't know how people normally find out they're Conduits, but I found out by dying. I haven't been back to Earth because it seemed like it would be awkward, especially since I don't have enough powers there either. So all I have is what I've been able to find or make." Her clothes do have a certain homemade look; the moonlight doesn't fully bring out the wine-red colour, but she's wearing a skirt and bodice and slippers all made of what seems to be a very soft and flexible leather with a slightly odd texture.

He nods. "I just had these awful dreams, and eventually they started being real!" He laughs, utterly mirthless. "And, fair enough. If you've got a bad situation, have you tried visiting a different Earth? I'd be happy to bring you stuff, especially if you've got something to trade. Just let me know with the mirror and I'll figure stuff out."

The archer reaches a hand out, stopping briefly where Fib can see it, before gently squeezing his shoulder, causing his colors to shift around and flare briefly before dimming significantly, then brighten back up slightly. "Sorry. Anyway, anything you'd like to ask me, Lucky," he gestures to the nearer archer, then to the other archer and the rifleman "Clarity, or Sniper? Before we head off." 

She could say 'this is the longest conversation I have had in three years and I would actually prefer if you did not head off quite yet', but she can't think of a way to say that. Not saying it is so much easier.

"...where are you going?" she asks instead. She has several other questions, like 'there are multiple Earths?' and 'is jam a viable trade good?', but that's the one that comes out first.

"Uh, hm..." Fib dithers.

"Base?" Lucky offers.

"Oh, yeah! We need to drop the car back off at our base in the Rim so that the mechanics can look at it. And so we can figure out what we're doing for the second expedition here."

"If cargo is a concern you could bring cargo bikes. I see them a lot around here," she suggests tentatively. "I guess I don't know where you're getting your vehicles. Maybe cargo bikes are harder to get. If you... wait several more years... I'll have enough investment here to speak to people and maybe I can find out where they get their cargo bikes and give you some. Also, um... Do you usually bring dinosaurs when you visit a world? If so, ...why do you do it?"

"Cargo bikes make sense. And, I just have to. I don't really know why. If I stay too long in any one place it gets hard to..." He visibly dims, before shaking himself brightening again. "There's a thing, uh. It's not here yet, and it needs to come out of me, so I can't give up until it's done. Plus the revs need me help, and I'm responsible for them now."

"...I... see. Um." She pulls a jar out of her pocket. "You seem like you are having a very hard time. Would you like some strawberry jam?"

He's baffled by the offer, briefly, before smiling. "Thank you. I guess some strawberry jam would be nice." He turns to Lucky and nods towards the car, then turns to Clarity and Sniper and waves them over as well. Then they all pile into the car, dig a box of crackers and a case of water bottles out of the back. They also start talking amongst themselves again, discussing the logistics of acquiring cargo bikes.

Here is a jar of very nice homemade strawberry jam. It is not really a solution to any of these people's problems but it's what she had in her pocket.

"I also grow other fruits but strawberry is what I have with me right now."

Fresh strayberry jam on stale crackers with some old bottled water is a nice snack! The jam is certainly the centerpiece, and all four of them seem to enjoy it. Chantal's welcome to crackers and water too if she wants.

"Oh, nice. 'S'at in your Bevin or do you have something going on elsewhere?" Fib asks.

Oh. She has made people happy. How unexpected. She will take one cracker.

"Yes, it's in my Bevin. I have a garden there."

"Nice. The revs have the run of mine, mostly. Beds, showers, kitchen, sort of a way station. And it's where I keep the server for my forum and stuff. And windows."

"Who... are the revs?"

He brightens a bit as he make a surprised and embarrassed expression. "Right, that's, uh. They're locals from another world, Yomi, who are normally kind of ghosts, but I can revive them for a bit, with my, uh...breath-stuff. And if I bring them back to my Bevin while they're alive again and have them bond with the color-furnace, they stay alive permanently. Revs is short for revived, since there wasn't really a word for what they are now."

...thoughtful nod.

"I've heard of Yomi a little bit but I don't know very much about it. The worlds I've connected to besides Earth and my Bevin are this one, Arbor, and Brazen—well, and the Prison but I'm not sure if I'll ever go there, it sounds scary."

Fib nods. "The Prison isn't so bad, really, as long as you keep quiet around the trees. Pretty lonely. Not familiar with the Arbor, though. What's it like?"

"...I like it there. Um, but it wants you to be a tree. In a friendly way! It wants very much for people to be trees so they can be okay and not have to worry about anything because they're trees. I decided not to be a tree, personally." She tugs on the hem of her dress. "This stuff comes from there, it's very good for making clothes and bags and things. And there's also magic dirt that's really useful in my garden."

"Huh. That sounds interesting to visit." He briefly looks into the distance, consulting his bridge-finding senses. "Is there a bridge to it near here?"

She points. "I walked here from there tonight and it took me about nine hours. ...um, but I might rather you use a different bridge, I spend most of my time at that one and there's a nice gazebo and I don't want it exploded by dinosaurs. ...also the trees in Arbor are people which is relevant when you're considering where to put a dinosaur explosion."

"That is a good point," he replies, rubbing the back of his head. "Anyway, I guess we're going to chill here for a bit and I'll jump us back to the Rim. I don't know if you want to come along?"

"I don't like to be out of the Academy except to sleep; I've been trying really hard to be here as much as possible so I can gain more powers. I guess I was about to go home... oh, wait, I can't go to the Rim, though. I'm not connected to it at all, it would be awful."

"Oh, right, that. Uh...fair! Sorry. I guess, don't let me hold you here if you were headed back to bed?"

Fib falls into a bit of silence, his light dimming a little as he just has some more jammed crackers and water. Lucky, Clarity, and Sniper continue to discuss acquiring bikes.

"I don't have to leave right away." Awkward fidget.

"Ah, right."

"Should go back soon, though. If we need bikes, better if the base is working on that sooner. Rim time," Sniper adds.

"Truuue," Fib draws out. He does some mental math. "We might be able to get back in a few minutes? Maybe half an hour-ish? There would hopefully not be a dinosaur this time."

"Hmm... if you don't hurry back here, when are you likely to be here again? If I have time to go home and sleep and come back, then I have time to bring you more jam."

"Oh, no, that wasn't rushing. If we were rushing we'd be back in, like...maybe a couple minutes? The longest it'd take is probably two hours, if it takes us a couple days to get everything we need."

"...I feel like I might be missing something."

"Oh, right! You hadn't heard of the Rim. Time there is, like, fifty-ish times faster. Back in fifteen minutes here gives us 12-ish hours back at the base."

"Ooooh, that makes sense. In that case... I'll go home when you leave, and I'll come back in a few minutes with more jam, and if you're not back by the time I want to go to sleep I'll leave it in the trail of destruction for you to pick up?"

He smiles at that. "Sounds good! And, uh. I jump using the car, so that I can take my friends and stuff with me, so if you aren't coming with you'll probably want to get out."

"Reasonable."

She climbs out and picks her way through the flowers and gives an awkward little wave.

He waves back equally awkwardly, and then (despite there not being a gate within jumping distance) the car disappears. The chaotic layering of world auras disappears with it, her conduit-sense recovering the brightness that Fib brought with him.

The Academy is still alien to her, but in comparison to how it felt with him around, it seems to almost sigh in relief.

Well.

Fifteen minutes later, she's reappearing in just about this same spot, a look of concentration on her face, carrying a bark-leather shoulder bag filled with six jars of jam. They each have a tag on a bit of string around the neck to label them: cherry, strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, fig, and peach. The names are accompanied by charming little drawings of the fruits.

Fib and Sniper are there, sitting on bikes made of gold and glass with pretty big cargo compartments in the back, as well as more moderate baskets in the front, current full of unfamiliar vegetables and some fresh baked bread. There aren't any monsters around, and the part doesn't seem any worse for wear than before. "Hello again-- Oh, I just realized I never got your name," Fib greets her.

"—oh." She blinks. "Um. ...I haven't thought about that in a while." She holds out the bag. "Here, have some jam."

Fib nods. "Fair enough, though if you don't give me some kind of handle I'm going to have start calling you Jam," he says, receiving the jam and placing it in his bike's basket, before retrieving a bunch of the vegetables. "Here's a bunch of stuff that mechs back at base know is good to eat, that's native to the Rim, if you want to try growing it in your garden?"

"Oh, I would like that!" Vegetables get. "To save myself from being called Jam, perhaps I can be Groundskeeper until you meet another one. —I've read that's what Conduits of Arbor are called. I will also try to think of a better name than that."

"Groundskeeper it is! Anyway, no shame if it's your thing, but if we're doing a night picnic I'd rather find somewhere else to eat than right next to a dino carcass that's going to start smelling pretty bad in an hour. Any thoughts on better places to take a seat?"

"One nice thing about the Academy is that if you walk five minutes in any direction you will pass a picturesque place to sit and read a book. I suppose picturesque places to sit and eat are very similar."

"That does sound nice! Let's get looking then."

And (presumably) the three of them walk off (Fib and Sniper taking their bikes with them) to find somewhere a bit less disturbed to eat.

The prophecy holds true: after a brisk stroll of three minutes or so, they come upon a park whose wooden benches are shaded by broad leafy trees and then lit by tall lamp-posts. There's even little square tables set up over by that one; it doesn't quite make for a true picnic table, but it could certainly serve the same function.

Very convenient! Fib and Sniper will pull up their bikes next to the table. Fib sets up the bread on...a leaf? A big one, kind of like a banana leaf. Sniper goes around to the cargo compartment and retrieves some juicy-looking and unfamiliar fruit, and a leaf-wrapped block of what seems to be soft cheese.

Oh, intriguing. A fancier picnic than she expected. She takes a seat at the very end of the bench, where she won't get in anyone's way, and peers curiously at the preparations.

Fib then pulls out a little golden butter knife and starts to construct some sandwiches, slicing up the bread, cheese, and fruit (which turn out to be concerningly meat-like on the inside, visually at least), before beckoning for the jam. "What do you want on yours?" He asks, both to Sniper and Groundskeeper.

"—What are those?" she asks, thoroughly distracted from the question of her preferences.

"Domesticated ugomemi. They're from the Rim. The wild-type's fruit are more properly worm-shaped and actually sort of crawl or squirm after they drop onto the ground. It lets them get further away from the parent tree, and attracts certain kinds of insectivorous flyers to eat them and spread the seeds even further. The mechs domesticated them a while ago since it's a safer source of protein than hunting actual animals." Fib explains, perhaps overmuch.

"...I see. But, um, those ones are not currently in any condition to wiggle? I hope?"

Fib shakes his head as he starts making a sandwich for Sniper, who has indicated which of the three available toppings (just cheese for the moment) they want. "The domesticated ones stopped wriggling entirely a few generations ago, and even before then, with how plump they get, they stop wriggling just a few minutes after they drop."

"...I think perhaps I will also just have the cheese." Oh no, was that rude? She hopes it wasn't rude.

"It's usually not eaten raw," Sniper clarifies. "He is a little strange,"

Fib shrugs with a grin, then hands the cheese sandwich he was just making to Groundskeeper rather than Sniper while sticking his tongue out playfully at the other. Then he starts making another.

"...well. Who among us is not a little strange."

She hesitates, glancing at Sniper to try to figure out whether they're going to object to her stealing their sandwich, then concludes that it is also rude to just sit here holding it and gives it a tentative nibble. It's all right.

Indeed, Sniper makes no move for her sandwich, and accepts the next one Fib makes instead.

They are not great sandwiches, to be fair. But certainly edible. The bread's a little strange as well, certainly it's not made from bleached wheat flour or anything. The cheese isn't exactly like cream cheese, though that's the closest thing texture-wise. The flavor difference is hard to pin down, mostly a difference in the subtler aromas and flavor-elements, since the primary sensation is still mostly just 'creamy'. It's maybe just a little sweeter than one might expect, but now beyond the normal range for cream cheese.

Fib certainly seems to be enjoying his own sandwich. Sniper is a bit less exuberant about it, but doesn't seem to be unhappy eating here in a park on a (relatively, given Fib's influence on the vibe) peaceful night.

"I suppose given the time difference I probably can't supply you all with jam indefinitely. ...I might be able to supply winebark clothes? I've gotten pretty decent at making them, and they're very durable. I don't know if you consider yourselves especially in need of leather jackets though. Oh, and bags, I'm all right at making bags too."

Fib swallows his current mouthful of sandwich before replying. "I think we're good on clothing, unless something's happened in the last-" he mimes checking a watch that he does not have, "several hours, Rim-time. More bags is always good though! Anything in particular you'd like from me in return? I can make orichalcum and desert glass, I can deliver packages for you, I can take you to any of the worlds I'm connected to, that sort of thing."

"...hmm... how hard was it for you to get those bicycles? I think it would be really nice to have a bicycle, to get around the Academy faster with. What, um, what are orichalcum and desert glass?"

"Orichalcum's this gold stuff, and desert glass's the pink glass. Orichalcum's real tough, but I can mold it like clay sort of. Glass isn't quite as strong but I can make it be soft or flexible if I want it to be. The bikes took I think about an hour of prayer each for the orichalcum, and then probably another two or three hours each with the mechs guiding me through sculpting them into the right shape and then making all the compliant parts out of desert glass. So I guess being generous maybe five hours of work? Plus the time spent gathering sand, but I grab a bunch of that whenever I'm in the Pink Desert anyway so it's no big deal."

"Hmm, that's not too bad then, probably? I should go home and sleep soon anyway, so you'll have lots and lots of time to make another one. And I can trade you plenty of winebark bags. Any particular requests? The bag I gave you the jam in is a style I have plenty of but it's a bit small; it sounds like your lifestyle might be more suited to big camping backpacks."

"Big, with pockets and sections, is best," Sniper offers.

"Yeah! Though, even with small bags, we can probably string them together or something," Fib adds, kind of half-heartedly.

"I do also make big camping backpacks. I can bring what I have and make more. After I sleep." She stifles a yawn.

Fib and Sniper won't keep the conversation going for too much longer (despite an evident desire to do so, on Fib's part). They'll finishes their sandwiches in (hopefully) companionable quiet, enjoying the sounds of the Academy's night-time atmosphere (modulo the influence of Fib's somewhat overpowering aura).

When the eating's done and everything's packed back up, Fib will wave goodbye to Groundskeeper and give her the parting words, "See you in, like, a couple weeks!"

"Or one night's sleep, as the case may be!"

She waves goodbye and begins meditating back to her Bevin.

Fib and Sniper get back onto their bikes and start moving, and once they're going at a decent speed, the two of them disappear along with their vehicles.