abraxaslogs | [Open] You reach deeper until you can find the strength.

"Hey."

Somewhere about halfway through all that, he'd swiveled to face her more fully and when she wraps her arms around herself, he reaches out to give her arm a light squeeze. His expression softens a little, because she seems a lot younger than most of the Summoned brought here. Which probably makes everything here way scarier to her than some.

"I know it's a lot at once. And it's not that you get numb. But people are usually pretty adaptable, in my experience. It's not all bad, especially once you find your feet. I don't think that makes it 'losing'. That would be giving up on trying at all."

She glanced down at his hand, not really moving away, but also not quite softening at the show of support. Frozen, mostly. A few beats late she sags, smiling a little more.

"People are good at surviving, but not all adaptation is healthy." Abby, and her friends, had all survived some stuff. Trivial in comparison to this place, but that just made it worse. Because how they each adapted was clearly not the healthiest. And this place was so much bigger than Wellsbury.

"I'm not giving up just yet, I just-" Abby let her eyes drift away from Sylvain to put it all in order, as best she could. Cause she wasn't really used to telling people stuff. "I feel like everything I get used to here. Even the cool shit like being allowed to drink or learn magic. Is giving up a part of who I was before I got here."

He cocks his head to the side as he considers that, mulling it over in his mind before he lets his hand drop back to the bar top, fingertips drumming softly against the wood.

"What makes you so sure it would be a loss and not a gain? Why would you be losing pieces of you, and not just adding new ones? Sure, they'd be different than the pieces you would have added if you'd stayed back home in your world, but that doesn't mean you stop being that person. It doesn't make you any less you."

Abby scoffed, then isn't sure if she envies his optimism or pities his naiveté. Or both. She does long for such a view, that this place could build without destroying.

But she's far too much the daughter of two mental health experts to buy that. She nodded to his arms, and the bandages, "Traumatic events don't build character. It's a pleasant lie to make the shit feel less shitty."

She frowned at herself, what an unpleasant line of conversation. She was suddenly far more aware of herself than she really wanted. "Sorry, this is a little too deep for 'after work drinking' conversation. At least for me."

If he knew she was thinking him naive, he'd be laughing his ass off right now. Instead, he's feeling kind of bad that someone her age is already this cynical. Well, he had been, too, but there were different reasons for that.

"Sometimes that lie is all that gets you through the shit." His voice is wry, because how many times had he clung to that, too? But he holds up his bandaged hands to look at them a moment. He gives a quiet hum. "I don't think I've ever really cared if it was building character or not, I guess. I was usually just pathetically grateful to still be alive. And trying to figure out how to not do that again, whatever it was. Sitting there asking myself 'now what?' seemed like a better coping method than getting lost in what was already done. Otherwise, I might never move."

But she's got a point about the topic, since this really hadn't been his intention to get into when he sat down here. He slides his mug across and clinks it against hers with a chuckle, lips quirking. "I think that usually means we've either had too much to drink already, or nowhere near enough."

"Where I'm from? 'Grateful you survived' isn't a normal thought to have." Abby's life has been all about not suffering more than not dying, which is a good starting point to gauge differences. Ginny's had it rougher than Abby, and Abby's pretty sure Ginny was never in 'glad I didn't die' camp. It's a good help to figure out their differences.

But maybe she should embrace that, now that it seems to be where her life is now. She just wanted to sulk in her lack of friends not- this.

"Oh, way too sober. That's easy to answer." Abby considers ways to veer the topic to happier places. But at the same time she's far too curious to try to get a handle on everything to just- decide to talk about the weather or some shit. "What's here, in the Free Cities, that's better than your home? There are a lot more rules on what I can't do at home. Like drinking."

"There's rules about drinking where you come from?" He arches an eyebrow at that, looking surprised. What a weird thing to have laws about. Not even his world is quite that strict. Or maybe it's just strict about very different things. "Weird."

"Well. There's less snow, for one." He chuckles as he takes a drink of his ale again, taking a moment to think that over. "Not that I'm sure living in a desert is actually better, but the beach at Aquila is nice, at least. We're not actively at war with anyone, despite tensions sometimes hinting otherwise. And their views on magic here are... very different from what I'm used to. In a good way. It's also available to more people, maybe that's why."

"Kinda is." Abby's aware of a lot of the reasoning adults put rules on drinking. But she's also aware adults are fucking stupid with their own alcohol and they get to legally do that shit. But hardly a thing she wants to delve too deep on.

"Your home is at war?" Her home, was sorta at war. Not really, but it might as well be. Still, that mixed with the way he talked about things, maybe made it make more sense. But war also was a topic they weren't quite drunk enough for, "I absolutely need to see this beach. As soon as I find out what they do for swimsuits around here... and then don't do that and make my own."

He's pretty sure adults are just stupid in general. Not that he's very good at counting himself among them yet, even though most would consider him one. He refuses.

But he laughs at her comment about the beach and a swimsuit and waves a finger in her direction, easily letting her change the topic to something more pleasant.

"Oh, I'm going to have to introduce you to Hilda. I'm pretty sure anyone saying 'fashion' immediately becomes her new favorite person. She's been working on creating jewelry, I think. Although she's still in the creative phase so I'm pretending I haven't noticed so she doesn't bite my head off."

She's up in the air if he qualifies as an adult. She's aware she shouldn't be drinking with him but that's not really going to stop her.

"I don't really make my own things, I destroy things into a more useful form." Abby's not sure how talented her talents are. She can use a pair of scissors to rend something new, and usually it'll work for her. Outside of winter, there is zero reason for her to cover up her waistline. "I've never really tried to make things, I've always had things. That might be worth looking into..."

He blinks at her a moment, because that concept is entirely foreign to him. He's not sure how you destroy something into a more useful form. Although it sounds kinda fun.

"Making things isn't really my forte either. Unless you count drinks. Or dinner." He casts her a crooked grin and takes another drink, before casting Mags a rueful look. "Neither of which I've been allowed to do since I got back."

Mags is still ignoring him. Smart woman.

"But it couldn't hurt for you to try, see what you come up with?"

To the topic of making things, it was worth looking into seeing what she could create. She was creative, she just wasn't as creative as her friends, who each had a thing they could do. All that she could do felt inferior next to them. But she could try to do some more here. See what she can do.

Plus her room needs decorating.

The more immediate concern was a boy being sad about not being able to work with his mummy arms. Which she can't fix, but she can poke it. Literally. She's going to lean over and poke him in the forearm really hard to see exactly how not ready to work he is.

"Ow!"

The answer is... very much not ready to work. Although the sad thing is, he's already in way better shape than he'd been a few days ago.

At least she hadn't poked him in the ribs. That would have been much worse.

Still, he gives her a mock-offended look, as if he couldn't believe she would do this to him. Although there's laughter lurking in his dark eyes that give the ruse away.

"What was that for?"

"Just confirming why you're not mixing drinks or making dinner." There was an easy unperturbed confidence to this move. It seemed fairly obvious, what he shouldn't be doing. But even the obvious sometimes needed to be put on display. It made it a lot harder for him to argue the point.

As she could definitely poke him again. If needed.

"I'm sure your girlfriend, or boyfriend, I don't know you. Will yell at you if you try to overdo it."

Don't underestimate his ability to argue. He'd do it anyway. Possibly even harder for having his vulnerability pointed out so obviously.

"Oh, they've already been scolding me." It's said airily enough. And yes, 'they', he doesn't try to avoid including either of them - any of them? - from that statement. "But considering one of them was wounded as bad as I was while we were captive, I'm taking anything he says with a grain of salt."

Still, he huffs a sigh and props his chin in one palm. "That doesn't make recovery time any less boring, though."

"Ooh, they. Respect." She's not judging, she's impressed. She does get the boredom involved with not doing anything after something happens. She can't claim she's been there, but she can get the general concept well enough.

"Need me to poke them in their bandages too? You shouldn't be doing that to anyone with your hands like that." It was a genuine offer, as poking sorespots is one of her talents that doesn't rely on items not in existence in the Free Cities. While she gets that it sucks not to do anything, technically what he's doing is healing. "Why not just go into the Horizon, unless your wounds follow you there too. That'd suck."

[Open] You reach deeper until you can find the strength.

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