abraxaslogs | march catch-all

[ The mining camp is just as he expected: dusty and depressing. The weather isn't helping, obviously. A permanent haze seems to sit over the camp as dust storms roll by in the distance.

Astarion is harder than usual to spot. A respirator and goggles cover his face, the hood of his cloak cinched tight so that there's not even a peek of his white curls. But he can generally be found where the medical clinic is being set up, situated somewhere between the cheap, close-packed houses and the mines themselves. There's some temporary tents posted up at the site, and at one of them he's handing out new respirators for the workers.

He hands out a fair few child-sized ones, and does surprisingly little complaining. In fact, he's very uncharacteristically quiet for most of his time spent out here, perhaps because of the annoyance of speaking with a respirator on. Perhaps because he's just exhausted. Or perhaps he's displaying some ~~empathy~~ tact in these miserable conditions.

At some point he'll retreat farther into the tent to sit and take his mask off. Both the respirator and goggles leave red lines on his pale skin, indicating he's had them on for quite a while (he doesn't need to breathe, exactly, but getting dust up his nose and in his eyes is almost as annoying as it is for the living). Unlike the other volunteers he doesn't eat or drink. Instead, he can be found fussing over the crates holding the equipment they brought over through the portal stone from Cadens. ]

We'll need to restock tomorrow... the air is awful enough that some are complaining about needing these in their homes... [ He frowns, and sighs to himself.

Astarion does not know at what point he started to care about any of this. He'd intended to shove all of the work onto Claude and Steve, who seemed more than willing... ]

[ While the Doctor's lungs aren't altogether impervious to the effects of breathing in copious amounts of dust, he doesn't need a respirator quite as urgently, so he can forego one a bit longer to ensure others are tended to first. At least they have enough on hand for today, everyone protected best they can be.

With the goggles, he'd think they all look rather cool if it weren't for, you know, the very much less than pleasant conditions. That aside, they can look fashionable while surviving. Or something. It's possible his sense of taste is skewed.

He does follow (because of course he does) closely behind who he thinks is Astarion retreating into one of the tents, catching him as he's sorting through the crates. ]

Dreadful out there. It's good you've helped organise all of this, you and the gang. Gaggle? Trio? Nothing quite has the ring that suits you three. Don't worry, I'll think on it.

[ In case Astarion was in suspense about this. But the Doctor does make himself useful by having a look through the crates and seeing what else they might need to bring tomorrow. As much as he chatters on, he's usually doing and thinking many things at once. ]

You doing okay?

[ Well. A certain definition of the word, at least. Given their circumstances. ]

Conclave is the term, I believe...

[ Astarion responds without looking up from what he's doing, only half paying attention. He's been having so many conversations with so many people during all these, usually answering the same three or four questions. The Doctor, at least, keeps things interesting.

For better or worse, he finds. ]

Hmm? [ Now he glances up from the near empty crate of child-sized equipment, blinking rapidly. ]

Me? I am... fine, I suppose. I mean - I'm more than ready to be done with this dustbin of a town for the day and find a nice, warm bath but... [ He shrugs, waving a hand. ] ... it could be worse.

[ He's not really sure how but... you know... he's sure it could be. He eyes the Doctor, his tone not so much accusatory as teasing: ]

Why? What have you been getting up to, Doctor?

[ Oh, he knows the man has just been here helping. Probably entertaining and/or herding the children, he seems to have an affinity for them. ]

Conclave's all well and good and official, yes, but lacking just a bit on panache. A must when it comes to the three of you. As a word, conclave starts off thrilling, though, I'll give it that — con — oh, what letters to follow, what could it be next — then just...clave? Leaves a bit wanting. It's my very, very humble opinion, obviously! And I'll grant you it's hardly the most pressing thing to consider at the moment, but there's room enough in here — [ He taps the side of his head briefly. ] — for all of it.

[ Naturally, Astarion has his number. He's mostly gravitated towards helping the children, and making sure those most vulnerable in the Free Cities at least have shelter.

Of course, the Doctor can't very well not respond with some friendly and frankly idiotic teasing of his own. ]

And I've been getting up to six foot one, most days. Add a quarter inch when I'm leaning forward.

[ ~~Ba Dum Tish~~. ]

Before you potentially roll your eyes at the joke, let me just say I was only hoping to make you laugh, and happy to make it at my expense as often as possible.

[ This man is one of the strangest people Astarion has ever encountered. Which is saying a lot, considering. He mostly tunes out the nonsense about cons and claves and nomenclave, although his eyebrows do raise nearly to his slightly disheveled hairline at the little joke.

Gods. Sometimes he wishes to push this man off a very, very tall cliff.

He's mid-eye roll before the Doctor can finish that sentence. And yet, as he speaks the rest of his piece - ]

You can be annoyingly charming sometimes. [ As much as he emphasizes the annoying part, there's a softening of his features, a second or two where he appears a little less guarded than usual. His months in Abraxas have been taking a toll on his masks and defenses, surrounded by so many people who... don't want anything from him. He lets out a small scoff at himself, mostly, shaking his head as he points to a box filled with older and damaged respirators, equipment collected from the miners that had been supplied to them before they arrived. ]

If you intend to stay and try again - [ to make him laugh ] - you might as well help me sort this mess - what can be repaired, what can be salvaged, and what needs scrapping.

I'll take any sentence that ends at annoyingly charming when it might have ended at annoying. It's optimistic!

[ He does at least have the awareness that he's annoyingly many things, among being quite strange. If his company isn't at least entirely unwanted, he'll always stick around and at least try to be various shades of annoyingly endearing, charming, lovable, and interesting.

The slight softening in Astarion's words and expression, though, don't go entirely unnoticed. That, in addition to the very act of Astarion being here at all and helping push forward motions to better support the youngest ones toiling here, speaks volumes. ]

Let's see what we've got here —

[ Beyond his inane (perhaps) chatter, these items are something he can sort through and quickly deduce what's needed to fix any of them, or not. So he does get to work quite quickly, after briefly clapping and then rubbing his hands together, as though he were a child let loose in a toy store. ]

Bad, good, bad, bad, very good, oh, excellent condition. Rubbish, rubbish — [ His voice is at least pitched lower as he speaks to himself and separates them out in various piles. ]

[ When he's a bit into a decent assortment of ones to be mended, he notes — ] These that need mending, I can fix up before tomorrow, hardly a bother. We might get you to that bath sooner than later! Have you been liking this work with Viktor? It's suiting you, I think.

[Despite the fact that this is probably the last place someone like Viktor should be, he's here anyway. He has no real interest in running a business, but this seems to be a glimpse into his leadership style regardless, refusing to ask his employees to do something he wouldn't do himself. Given his personal investment in the miners, it wouldn't feel right, to stay away.

So here he is, in full desert gear, complete with goggles and respirator and a hat. With the weather and the task at hand in mind, he's forgone his crutch in favor of the bulky metal exoskeleton he wears on occasion, and the groan of metal as he clomps his way over to Astarion is likely slightly disconcerting.]

I have designs for household air filters. The problem is scaling production.

[Further into the tent, he can lower his own respirator, though he keeps the goggles on for now, an indication that Viktor doesn't plan to rest for very long. He takes stock of the boxes around them and frowns in thought, his expression visible now that his face is unobscured.]

Were you taking inventory?

[ Astarion is slightly more familiar with the horrific (to him) noises Viktor makes when using his funny metal legs. He's one of the few people Astarion does bother to look up at when he approaches, frowning slightly. ]

I was... [ while answering he picks up a clearly broken respirator that had gotten mixed up with the good ones and tosses it in the 'parts collection bin' rather indelicately. Since Viktor already heard what he said about needing to restock for tomorrow he doesn't bother repeating himself. Instead, he sighs and crosses his arms. ]

As far as scaling goes... you might start with hiring more workers. Ones who actually make and fix things.

[ Not like him and Claude. Or, maybe Claude does make things. He has no idea, he's never bothered to ask. ]

Edited 2024-04-05 05:41 (UTC)

[The frustration in Astarion’s voice is evident, and of course Viktor doesn’t blame him in the least. This is a frustrating situation, and the weather has made things uncomfortable and slow. He brings up a salient point, as well, one that has Viktor himself discouraged lately, especially after the loss of some of his employees.]

Yes, well, tell the government to summon more engineers.

[Viktor, slightly distractedly, starts combing through the collection bin, not because he thinks Astarion has misidentified the respirator as broken, but because he wants to see what’s inside for himself.]

You could always learn. If you want.

[He knows that the workshop is not necessarily what Astarion wants to do, but it can’t hurt to ask if he’d like to get a little more hands-on. Right?]

Perhaps I shall.

[ He makes his proclamation with another flippant hand wave. ]

Perhaps I shall request ones that are more robust this time. A bit of muscle on the bones. Your last few were quite... um, stringy.

[ He wants! people! who can! carry! things! Between the two of them there is a distinct lack of STR.

He swipes some of the dust already accumulating on the table in here, then raises an eyebrow at Viktor's next suggestion and gives him a baffled look. ]

Why?

Edited 2024-04-10 00:39 (UTC)

[One would think a government like the Free Cities would want engineers and inventors--all the more reason for Viktor to believe that the summoning ritual as it's currently being performed is mostly random.]

We are, generally speaking, on the more delicate side.

[Not to stereotype, or anything. That said, Astarion would have found Jayce useful, he's sure. It occurs to Viktor that most of his employees don't even realize that Rio Enterprises was, at one point, a partnership.

He's not fazed by the confusion. Viktor perhaps expected it, so he shrugs.]

I don't know. You might find it interesting?

[ It's true, Astarion would very much have enjoyed having Jayce around for all sorts of reasons. And it's equally true that he has no idea Viktor had a partner when he first began this venture. It does not occur to him in this moment, however, that he ought to learn more about his employer.

Viktor earns himself a quick, assessing look again at delicate.

Well. Deep gnomes seem hardy enough. Not that he's hoping for any to be Summoned... ]

Perhaps... [ His admission comes with reluctance (resistance), for which an excuse comes rather quickly: ] When would I even have the time to learn anything?

[ He's busy! Helping orphans! Because of you. But there's another sigh, and Viktor might get the sense, surprisingly, that he's not entirely uninterested. He just thinks he's about to get extra work foisted on him... ]

At your discretion.

[Viktor does not purport to know Astarion's schedule outside of the workshop or Aquila, nor is he going to impose if this is something he decides he has no interest in beyond the hours he already works.]

I'm simply putting it out on the table. As an opportunity, if you wish to pursue it.

[ He narrows his eyes at Viktor, then abruptly gives a deep sigh. ]

Darling. Please. You could at least try appealing to my ego just a touch. Something like 'Astarion, you have such dexterous hands - not to mention an eye for quality, of course you'd enjoy yourself!'

[ He pulls a face, hands on his hips and looks away, his expression smoothing over as he adds: ]

But fine. Perhaps I could make some time.

[Viktor fixes Astarion with a look that asks when he has ever taken the opportunity to stroke an ego. The fact that he's offering at all, he thinks, should be reason enough to believe that Viktor has some investment in this. In Astarion.]

Only if you want to.

[He'll just keep making that clear.]

But if you want to, I'm happy to teach you what I know.

march catch-all

farhill mining camp (open)

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