Dec 07, 2021 1:33 AM
Blair gets dropped on a new world
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He runs off up the beach and into the woods. He's gone a couple minutes.

"I'm not sure I have anything you can use," says another of the interested people. "What would work?"

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"Anything that can change it, the more permanent the change the longer the magic lasts."

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"I'll... figure something out?"

The other guy comes back with a spare shirt and some red thread which he offers Blair. These people's textiles all seem to be handmade.

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Drunk embroidery had not been on their list of things they wanted to do today. But, whatever.

The handmade cloth doesn't strike them as that weird - they still have hand-me-downs that're a couple hundred years old, with embroidery slowly added or changed over the years to keep the magic fresh.

"Hm. Any patterns you like a lot?" they ask spare shirt guy.

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"I like waves. Does the pattern you choose determine the magic you get?"

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"More that it helps to match patterns to people, it's the working that does the magic."

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He nods but he doesn't really understand.

Half the people here have given up the pretense of still being busy and are just watching Blair now.

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They embroider with slow but neat stitches. Concentrating on it's hard, and they keep fumbling, but the haze from the alcohol's clearing a bit, especially once they have some water. They do just the collar, as a proof of concept, then say, "The collar should resist tearing, now. I can do the rest after I've slept."

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They test that.

"You can stay at my house till tomorrow," says spare shirt guy.

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Argh why couldn't they have been dropped somewhere that likes outsiders.

"Thanks. I reckon I can do more once my head's stopped fiddling with the devil."

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"What's a devil?"

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"Uh. Evil being. Probably made up."

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"You'll tell us about any that aren't, right? Especially if they might follow you here?"

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"Cross my heart - that means very yes."

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His house is tiny. And handmade. He offers Blair a quilt and a spot on the floor that they can sleep on if they want. It's not an insult, looks like he also sleeps on the floor, there don't seem to be any beds.

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Um. They are not an expert at woodwork. That is more their sister's realm. But Blair should be able to make beds at least, beds are pretty simple. This guy was nice to them and believed them and they kinda wanna help him out before skedaddling.

For now, though, they thank helpful guy, wrap themselves in the quilt with their head buried, and start working on sleeping off the alcohol.

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If they don't wake up just from people doing things near them then they won't be woken till the next morning.

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Blair wakes up a bit blearily - they don't usually sleep that long, ugh, and they're kinda hungover still. Can water and a direction to a - probably no bathrooms given technology levels, maybe an outhouse be provided?

(They think they could reconstruct indoor plumbing. They do not think they could do it fast, and they are the wrong person to be uplifting a society from no-beds to indoor-metal-plumbing.)

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His oldest daughter can show Blair to the latrine while he fixes breakfast.

It's a chilly, foggy morning.

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Fog they're familiar with, at least, and they have ever used a latrine.

They help with breakfast-related tasks, then, but don't really eat much themselves - never hungry in the morning - then head out to their ATV to poke around. The magic's definitely worn off, but it should still run, it's physically sound, hopefully nothing broke or aged unnaturally or anything.

Some digging reveals minor signs of overheating in the engine, but most pertinently an empty tank.

And, of course, there's no gas stations out here.

They run a hand down their face, and try to think of how to make a distillery. And what to use for yeast and sugar.

Uh, grapes, apples, blueberries - maybe other berries - have yeast they think. And fruit's a sugar. And a society without any kind of alcohol would be weird, there's gotta be something used locally.

They head back to the house, say, "I got a look at my vehicle, it'll take a few days minimum to fix, assuming I can find - specific types of fruit, I need to make a liquid thing for it. Is there anything I can fix or improve while I'm here? I'm pretty handy, can work with a variety of tools."

(Speaking of, did they actually see any signs of wood on the walk around?)

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Wood exists! It's a little hard to tell but there's a wood frame under the earthen walls of the house. There's a collection of logs and branches under a waterproof blanket that are probably firewood. Where the sand ends a sparse woodland starts. What there aren't are convenient already-felled large straight pieces.

There are berries, too.

"Can you make arrows? Or dig clams?"

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"Have never made arrows or dug clams before, but I'm a quick learner."

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"There's probably more room for error with the clams. Come down to the water with us after breakfast and I'll show you how."

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"Can do."

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Before they can make it to the beach, though, there's someone who'd like to talk to them. She lurks near the house waiting for them.

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