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Dec 04, 2021 1:59 PM
tintin gets exiled on accident
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"I've been told I'm an excellent student. Should I show you how I dance, to start?"

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"Uh... sure okay I guess that will help."

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"Milou, play Ililousiara."

A bubbly pop song starts playing, clearly one that Tintin knows well. He starts dancing. 

If anyone watching knew that ballet existed, it would be obvious that Tintin's dancing form is mostly informed by ballet. He's very light on his feet, lots of jumping and kicking and spinning. He isn't very formal, though it is clearly a thought-out routine rather than improvisation.

The song ends, and a thumping electronic beat starts pulsing through the camp. "Pause, Milou," Tintin laughs. The electronica stops. 

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Taharqi looks... entranced.

    Raziya, on the other hand, has her brows knitted together. "That music... didn't come from your dance?" she asks.

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"No, that was more technology. Was it supposed to?"

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She nods and opens her mouth but then they hear growling coming from...

...well pretty much all around them. So instead she squeaks while Horan replies to the growls in kind and Taharqi has his bow in hands, arrow nocked.

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Tintin launches a Singularity at the highest density of hostiles, then a Throw field to cause a massive biotic detonation, flinging furry bodies in all directions. Then he whips out his pistol and starts firing at the rest of them.

"How did none of these stupid animals" stasis "evolve" throw, detonate "a survival instinct?!"

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Taharqi shoots an arrow or two but honestly just watching Tintin be very hot works super well for him.

"Maybe they survive better when they try to kill everything," says Taharqi between arrows and staring at Tintin.

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The animals don't last very long against a pissed-off Tintin. He stands there, panting -

then wobbles on his feet. "Oh, okay, that was a lot of biotics. Um." He shrugs off his backpack and shakily unzips it, pulling out a ration bar. It takes him a bit to unwrap it. Once it's unwrapped, he starts cramming it into his mouth like he hasn't eaten in days.

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"- oh, right, okay. I will figure out some more food for us." Taharqi goes to do that, grabbing some of the meat and - he really doesn't have many ingredients here, does he, doing the food magic is gonna be hard. He figures out pieces of meat to slice and pull in the specific ways he needs to, and then offers Tintin some.

    Horan crawls out towards the nearest corpses, then barks a "Wolves" back at them.

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"Thank you," Tintin says. He takes a bite of the meat and makes a surprised noise of delight.

He is satisfied after eating a frankly implausible amount for a man his size. "I think I see what you mean about the magic food," he says. "It was a lot better than unsalted pork had any right to be. And much more filling than I expected, too."

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"So normally you would have eaten even more than that? Where are you storing it?"

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"I'm mostly not! I have enough genetic enhancements that - that's not going to mean anything to you. They did technology to me in the womb to make me - better, in various ways, stronger and faster-healing and better at remembering things, and one of the things they did was making it so that I can digest food more quickly and comprehensively."

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"As long as it works. Are you too tired to fuck, watching you be extremely efficient against threats is really hot."

His body agrees with his words, apparently.

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Tintin sputters a bit. "I- well, I suppose I could - really, now?"

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"What's wrong with now?"

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"Nothing, I suppose, except the wolf corpses everywhere."

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"...maybe we should deal with those," he agrees. "They are going to smell in the morning."

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"They are also not what I would call romantic."

Tintin helps clear out the wolves.

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    "You want romance, with a Kushite?" asks Raziya.

"I can be plenty romantic," huffs Taharqi with no heat, dealing with the rest of the wolves.

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"I certainly think so. Other than this he's been very sweet."

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Taharqi grins at him. "I am admittedly perhaps a little bit inured to dead things around me."

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"Which is perfectly understandable, given your line of work!"

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"It also means you are going to be the one who has to tell me when our surroundings are sufficiently free of dead things that we can fuck. Oh, but before I forget," he adds, snapping his fingers, "you wanted to be reminded to set up a water catcher? And I should set up a drying rack."

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"Yes, thank you -" Tintin manufactures a device! He inserts the empty bottles from the day! Then, slightly reluctantly, he unfastens his omni-tool from his wrist and sets it into another slot.

"There we go. Milou, water capture." A faint orange glow emanates from the device, and the bottles almost immediately fog up. "I'll leave that to collect overnight."

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