riverview | First Selfie [@lolococo416: Video]

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First Selfie [@lolococo416: Video]

*Lola starts the video off by... adjusting her hair and checking her make-up. Not that she needs to do much but brush a few strands of her bangs back into place. She leans back, clearly at the Sunset Diner in one of the booths. Must be slow, doesn't sound like many people are there.*

I just had a great idea! I mean, not 'get us home great,' I really don't know how I got here, so I am totally the wrong person for getting us home. But it's still a great idea.

*Lola's at least projecting a lot of energy and excitement, that's for sure.*

I was thinking since we're all from different worlds, maybe we should all share something nice we miss from home. Not a personal thing, I mean, you can if you want. Just... a part of your world you feel is very unique to it. Or unique to your life at home.

Sort of a get to know each other game. If you're not comfortable doing your own video I can totally help film and edit it after so you don't have to be nervous over flubbing lines or knocking over salt shakers to the floor or anything.

*How oddly specific of you Lola.*

At least, I can help after my shift. But this place is super dead right now. So I don't think my boss would mind. Especially if you order something!

*Lola blows a kiss to her camera before reaching over and shutting it off.*

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[He's been obsessively scouring the network without actually doing anything to reveal himself so far, but he has too many questions after seeing this.]

You have a job here?

[That seems remarkably fast, and displays a worrying level of acceptance of their fate.]

Um, yeah. Why wouldn't I get a job here?

I can't exactly go home and get all my stuff.

*She clearly does not see the concern here.*

[ Goodness, this young woman's hair is blue! Why is it blue? Of course Cecelia knows about hair dye, though it is very rarely used, but she can't fathom why it would be blue. Is this person from a planet where this hair color comes naturally?

She's curious, but also polite enough not to ask. ]

Perhaps we should have introductions first? My name is Cecelia Wynn.

[ Really, how bold to converse with the population at large without introductions! ]

....Your hair is blue.

[Brilliant observation, Ivar. In his defense, he's from the Dark Ages, so it's not like they have a lot of rainbow-colored hair dye lying around. He's never seen anyone with hair like that before in his life.]

*Yes, because nothing says shy and retiring like blue hair and asking everyone to talk about themselves.*

Oh! Right. I'm Lola.

*Pause.*

Lola Pacini.

I would have remembered when I said a little something about where I'm from, but I wanted to see if it was an idea anyone else liked first.

...I know! I'm not sure what color I want it to be next. I think I'll just keep it blue while I'm here.

*This is Lola not helping matters at all.*

This place is strange.

[And considering how bizarre some of the stories that make up Norse religion are, that's saying something.]

I've never seen hair that color before.

This place is totally strange.

*Not that she thinks her hair is making this place stranger.*

Well, not everyone approves of doing this, but I really like how it looks. Although I miss my pink hair sometimes.

You accepted that quickly.

[SUSPICIOUSLY QUICKLY.]

How are you planning to buy a change of underwear?

I have to share a room with nine other people, I can't go home, and sticking around in a room with strangers is stifling, so I got a job.

Why is that so weird!? And your username is stupid.

It is a good one. [ And she supposes she should say something that sounds meaningful instead of the fact that she wishes she had had the chance to pack before being brought here. There's really nothing at home to miss. ] I do miss the landscape. I lived in a beautiful part of the countryside.

I loved the city, it was so bright and alive. With all sorts of people and places.

This place is so... quiet. Weird quiet.

I like visiting the countryside though, but I'd hate living there.

The taverns here, or what they call taverns here, have no heart. I'm not sure that's what you're looking for, but there it is.

You had pink hair before? [He is so very out of his element right now.] What comes next, purple?

[ Cecelia has been to London, the only place that could really qualify as a "city" in her time. But the noise and rush of people had no appeal then, and certainly wouldn't now. She grows anxious being around large groups, like they'll find her out and have her executed. ]

I could see how one would be loath to leave an exciting place. But when you are used to the quiet, you cherish it.

*Contemplative 'hmmmm' at his answer.*

I mean, if your world really has great taverns, whatever those are, I guess that works...

*Lola does that to people.*

I dunno, I think my hair would look good lavender. I know it won't be red, that looked terrible. It also depends how long I keep my hair too. I could get away with different colors if I cut it shorter.

It wasn't just that Toronto is exciting, you always could just tell that there are people doing things.

Like you're not alone. You know?

And here I thought only clothes could be dyed colors like that.

[Between the technology of this place and the people, he's definitely getting a crash course in the twenty-first century.]

...'Whatever those are'? Where do people routinely go to get food and drink where you're from?

Indeed. I have been to London, and it seems as though no one ever slept. At all hours, things were happening.

Cafes, Restaurants, Cantinas... bars when you're old enough. Bistros... there are a lot of places to go out to eat where I'm from.

Well, maintaining hair in a color like this is a lot more work than maintaining clothes, and if you do it wrong it takes a lot longer for hair to grow back.

You can always just... buy a new blouse if dyeing it goes wrong.

And... that's not what you like?

*Lola is trying to understand how quiet could ever be good, but then again she's never been quiet once in her entire life so...*

[He's planning to steal what he needs, obviously.]

A job implies you intend to stick around, that you're accepting what they've told you about being unable to go back.

I just want some make-up and a change of clothes!

*Gawd why are you so weird about this, nameless uncreative troll?*

Unless you know how to get me home right now? Working for a few hours a day in a cheap diner is not getting married to this place.

[Make up and a change of clothes? Either she's incredibly superficial, or else she's playing a good part. Most likely the second one, play at being not dangerous to make everyone underestimate her.]

Fine, do what you want.

...I was already doing what I want.

*Man, if only Lola was clever enough to do that. ~~At least she knows how to make a smokey eye look work.~~*

[He is, sadly, the rudest of the rude and so he just hangs up on her there.

But maybe one day their paths will cross again and he will learn her smokey eye technique.]

Oh... You must be from an unusually large city, then? [Azure City had that kind of accommodation -- most other places simply didn't.]

Toronto is huge! There's always things going on. And I worked in my dad's Cantina. Before coming here...

*Her voice definitely sags at that.*

Hey -- if you're familiar with food preparation, I get the impression a lot of us could use that here...

Wait? Most people here can't cook?

*She works as a waitress, she can cook but she doesn't feel she can cook cook. Not like dad or his employees. She just doesn't starve.*

I didn't cook at my dad's Cantina, even if it had my name on the door. I just served food, talked to customers, be nice.

Well, I wouldn't mind a little excitement! But I couldn't keep up with it all the time. I would wish for quiet again.

[ She's not trying to sound like a fuddy duddy. ]

Huh. Good to know.

[He's learned far more about unnatural colored hair than he ever wanted to know.]

What's your name?

Well, I spent most of my life living on iron rations and whatever was in the offing at the local inn where we spent the night. My basic knowledge of cooking boils down to knowing that one uses heat to effect chemical change within organic material, and I can tell you right now that 'taste' is nowhere in that nugget of information.

Iron... rations.

*She sounds like the very words taste disgusting. She doesn't know what they are and honestly she feels better for not knowing.*

Well, that's because cooking is about having the right materials and the right spices. But... there has to be someone here better suited to teach people to cook than me.

*She is a fountain of information nobody really needs.*

Oh, I'm Lola. Lola Pacini. And you?

Interesting name. I'm Ivar Ragnarsson. Sometimes called Ivar The Boneless.

[Hence his username on the network. His father had a horrible sense of humor to saddle him with that nickname for the rest of his life.]

Possibly. Maybe even probably. But I haven't met that person yet and I have met people who, like myself, are not familiar with cooking in the slightest.

[Roy shrugs slightly, feeling this makes his point quite adequately. It isn't about who's the best, it's about who's there and willing -- a point he's often had to deal with in his time as an adventurer.]

Well, Lola is short for something, but nobody ever calls me that.

*She does have to consider that nick name, there's a pause as she decides how to delicately ask.*

That sort of nickname has to have a story behind it, is it awful?

I'll... see what I can do, but I can't teach or cook for everyone. I mean, unless you come to the diner where I work. But with that I get paid and don't have to buy my own ingredients.

*Lola you aren't even cooking there, you're a waitress, you occasionally make sandwiches when it gets busy.*

I certainly wasn't suggesting it for free. Maybe a side business? [But if she isn't enthused, now's the time to drop it, clearly.] To be honest, I'm still learning what this place means by a diner.

Just a little bit awful. I'm a cripple, and when I was born, my father took one look at my legs, and said it was like I was boneless. Unfortunately for me, when my father gave a nickname to something, it tended to stick. I've got a brother he called Ironsides.

I'll, um, think about it. I first have to learn all the tricks about cooking some of the stuff here.

Diners are less respectable than restaurants but cozier and more friendly than fast food places. Usually it's all breakfast foods and sandwiches. Greasy, but makes you feel at home.

My home-cooked comfort meal is jambalaya.

Large city must be underselling it, though, if you have that many options routinely when it comes to just dining.

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First Selfie [@lolococo416: Video]

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