Is it accurate to call this a road trip?

[poll_the_stars]

Inavet does not fidget. There is no fidgeting. She is not a creature that is capable of fidgeting, she trained the habit away five centuries ago when she realized it really ticked her off. She will sit, serenely, maybe read books while waiting, but she doesn't fidget anymore.

But right now, she sort of wishes she did.

How does one mentally prepare to go to another universe?

She has no idea. She hasn't done it before. She realizes, vaguely, that this is kind of a stupid thing to worry about. She knows exactly who she's visiting, has wanted to for a while, and it's a smart tactical decision and helpful and safe and oh goddesses what if everything is weird, what if this becomes the most awkward day of all time, what if she spontaneously combusts upon entering the gate and going to Nexus? That can probably happen. Somehow. She's not really sure how, but if she's learned anything from this past week it is that the multiverse is a strange and terrifying place. And that it is good to be paranoid.

She wastes time on paranoia. She sits. She does not fidget. And she waits for a gate.

Comments

[poll_the_stars]

"I sort of want to see it now. But also I think I want to spare my eyes."

[from_scratch]

"Never been a mortal in Hell before. I don't think I'd want to vouch for the safety of the excursion unless you're separately indestructible."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Yeah, let's not test that," says Miles.

[poll_the_stars]

"Agreed. Pictures, maybe, but no field trip."

[from_scratch]

"I can get you pictures. Might cost you an extra song." Wag, wag.

[poll_the_stars]

"Five songs and the list for one hundred quartz crystals as described, twenty perfect diamonds the same size and shape, and pictures of just how tacky Hell can be?" she asks.

[from_scratch]

"Works for me."

[poll_the_stars]

"All right then. And now if I'm not mistaken the binding shouldn't be a problem."

[from_scratch]

"Quite right, where do you want the rocks and what format do you prefer for the pictures?"

[poll_the_stars]

"... Do you have a place to put the rocks, or should they go in a sad pile?" she asks of Miles. "And uh. Physical copy's fine."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I didn't bring a crate. We could ask for a crate, or just take the sad pile and deal with it later."

[poll_the_stars]

"Could you give us a crate, too, please?" she asks. "Let's avoid the sad pile."

[from_scratch]

"Sure, why not, repeat business and all."

Crates full of quartz and diamond appear, and a little touristy book entitled (in a language neither mortal speaks) Architectural Finds of Hell.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Ooh," says Miles. "What language is that?"

[from_scratch]

"Celambiric."

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles eyes the book, calculating whether it is worth using up most of his remaining MP to permanently comprehend the written form of the language. No, alas, he can't justify it. At any moment he might need that MP for something.

[from_scratch]

"But it's mostly just photos. The captions aren't necessary." Cam offers Inavet the book.

[poll_the_stars]

"Thank you." She takes the book. "Can I just say the songs, or do you want an actual written copy?"

[from_scratch]

"Written is ideal, but I can take the notes if that'd be more convenient." Cam makes a sheet of paper. No pen, though.

[poll_the_stars]

She rattles off five songs made by the same band.

[from_scratch]

Cam writes them down. Ink appears by magic on the paper. "Thanks."

[poll_the_stars]

"You're welcome. Thank you for the stuff."

[from_scratch]

"No problem. Am I loitering or am I going home now?"

[poll_the_stars]

"You need the list from Miles, I assume. Or... Actually I suppose you could copy it, couldn't you."

[from_scratch]

"It might take a little doing if he didn't title it something obvious like 'list of books for Cam', admittedly."