#galacticistic

A hurried, if unnecessary, whisper. Adrien, as she had come to be acquainted, wasn't an all-seeing... someone, probably. He wasn't apart of some webframe lining every nook and cranny of Teyvat, probably. Most of this was conjecture, a good hunk of assumption, and other half wishful thinking. Yoimiya didn't often find herself in the company of literal otherworldly beings, so she believed this was a pretty safe bet to make. When the first clanks arose, she believed it the various performances scattered around Fontaine, the sound of high-impact machinery traveling over fields, caught by the Anemo God's wish and brought afar.

Then it got closer.

Yoimiya was no stranger to it, bits of Ruin scheduling plans farther ahead, a peaceful survey made into a battleground. ... Which did lend to some creativity, mind you, the sparks of arrow-to-metal inspiring the second wave of booms she had set to launch, but--

By the time their intent was made clear, Adrien had already secured them in a hidey-hole fit for the pair of them, if a bit of a tight squeeze. Had the situation not been urgent in some sense, Yoimiya might have thought on it longer, flushed a bit at the realization, but if something happened to her on her second-only-ever trip, her Pops'd blow a gasket.

"No running necessary," Yoimiya says, lifting a hand to her back--an awkward angle to be sure, but her quiver skids down rock, emerges from the depths. "Sorry, I know this isn't what you had planned. Gimme' a few moments, and we can continue the tour!"

Yoimiya pushes forward until... resistance.

"Uhh, hey. I think I'm stuck. Sorry, sorry, can you take a deep breath for me?"

"Saw a guy swipe it off you and figured you might want it back." His eyes moved to where a man was stumbling away. Petty theft wasn't on Wriothsley's list of things he bothered catching himself. The city guard could do it if they wanted.

He held the pouch out, but the man still seemed to be gaping like a Clockwork Meka that had run out of juice.

"The others don't know I'm here."

In a sophisticated bar where the patrons dressed to the nines and sat in intimate booths or at the glossy, curvy bartop, Dan Heng looked a little underdressed for the occasion. Pier Point was a nexus of the galaxy's wealth as the stronghold of the IPC. Evangeline, though, looked like a vision in her slinky cocktail dress, ever the sight for sore eyes. Given his minorly criminal status to the IPC, he was wary, but no one had recognized him and no security system had yet to flag him, let alone prohibit entry.

@galacticistic // pauli ─── x.

needless   social   interactions   were   one   of   the   few   hurdles   scattered   throughout   his   life.   alhaitham   had   worked   meticulously   to   live   in   a   way   that   saw   the   days   passing   peacefully,   uneventfully,   yet   he   would   never   be   able   to   withdraw   himself   from   others   completely   (   and   he   would   not   want   to,   either,   despite   such   claims   ).   this   time,   the   chore   at   hand   was   seeking   out   an   apothecary,   and   a   wandering   one   at   that.   ❛    excuse   me,   ❜   he   said,   loosely,   as   he   wandered   up   to   the   woman.   ❛    you're   a   travelling   apothecary,   correct   ?   i'm   searching   for   some   assistance   with   restless   sleep.   ❜

“Huh?” Maybe he was carrying more than he should have been, but after choosing new stock for the store, Wise had said he could carry it all while his sister went ahead. Which means he was carrying three boxes down Sixth Street. And the top one slid off the pile just in time to assault a woman with its contents.

"I hear this here establishment is known for... discretion?" Boothill twirls a bullet between his fingers as he leans against the bar. He's found a nice shaded spot to stay out of the way and observe. Sure, he knows better than to ply any of the girls for information, but his whole operation will collapse a whole lot faster if they were to tip off the IPC to his presence.

"So if a gentleman were to desire some fudgin'," His mouth twists down slightly at the censored words, "privacy. You lovely ladies aren't prone to go blabbin' now are you?"

[   CONVERSE   ]     ,     sender  has  an  intimate  conversation  with  receiver.

( from Eva for Tempera! )

As he often did, Tempera had stayed at his mother’s side for most of the evening. While he was far from anti-social, the focus of parties like this was decidedly not him. When he was younger, he had stayed at his sister’s side, but with her growing up and becoming more confident in her own social skills, it had become increasingly less necessary.

An invitation to dance had finally moved him from his statue-like state; he had nearly declined, but his mother, as supportive of him as she was, had told him to “go enjoy himself.”

A couple dances later, without anyone else attempting to get either of their attention, Tempera led the young woman to a corner away from where he’d been standing watch previously, a drink in both their hands. They’d been speaking about this and that as they danced, and he found himself giving Eva a smile as they settled in their new place in the ballroom.

[   HELP   ]     ,     receiver  helps  sender  put  on  a  piece  of  clothing  or  jewellery.  ( @galacticistic from Eva for Andreas pls? )

Andreas had lost track of the number of days Eva had been here in his little village. He knew she was hiding from something, or someone, but honestly? He didn't care to ask, and no trouble had come for her so far.

She mostly spent her days out in the village, seeming to enjoy the small-town atmosphere. Today, though, he found her appearing at one of the farms he was working at, plonking herself down at the nearby fence and watching him help prep new ground.