Teddy can’t help a little huff of laughter. They think they could probably really shock him with how many laws there aren’t on the topic in both West Virginia and Kentucky. But they also know that horrified tone and they’re - in his eyes, anyway - probably slandering their home state quite enough already.
“That’s what I said,” Teddy replies easily, eyes amused. “Though you wouldn’t really want to. Can’t throw a stone back home without hitting a sporting goods place or a Gun & Pawn, a real gunsmith if you’re in the right place, and any one of those can get you something better and more reliable than whatever crappy mass produced hunting rifles Walmart stocks.”
Not that she has opinions or anything...
She has to assume he’s joking about literally kill, though her eyebrow lifts, curious at that tidbit of information. Mom’s a chef, son makes potions. That’s one way of riffing on a family skill…
“Damn, video games lying to me again!” Teddy forges past the momentary awkwardness Chris seems to have around not being able to do that. They have pretty good healers in Solvunn, so no new magic fixall isn’t the end of the world; they just don’t have something they already didn’t have. They explain, “You know, in RPGs and shit, the healing potions are the first ones they give you? Just toting around 17 vials of whatever, downing them every five minutes. But.” They shrug, smiling. “I guess games also imply you could make a proximity-triggered bomb out of gunpowder, scissors and a tin can, or just light rubbing alcohol on fire and have a functional Molotov cocktail, so…”
“You’re not wrong about the farming and gods. I’m not sure I would call them monsters…” Though, aren’t gods and monsters kind of the same? There are some that are certainly monstrous; in that alternate future, a thing they aren’t going to mention to someone this new, Teddy herself had had times of being pretty crazy looking — and scarily empowered.
Teddy nods at Chris’s thinking-out-loud instead; that had been exactly their thought. Why not just make some of everything in case, if it stays good?
“Last time. So, a little while ago there were some…pretty wild environmental things going on that may or may not have had to do with the gods and the other two countries here, who are at war — anyway: we had to go underground in kind of — a bunker, while things blew over. Which was its own problem…” Teddy doesn’t want to recap the whole thing when he’s asking one question, and waves a hand.
“But that’s why I made the face. Explosives in a contained underground space. Unless you’re trying to break rock apart — and for that matter, even if you are, and you know what you’re doing — that’s a quick way to set a fire or collapse the ceiling or accidentally end up with toxic fumes, and it still wouldn’t have helped get rid of much of the problem.”
“And…fun. I mean. The war’s made things a little …fraught? but it mainly depends on what you normally do for fun? I’m a musician, back home, and I can still do that here; my friend Eddie and I jam sometimes.
“There are taverns and inns where people gather. Play music and drink and dance and tell stories. Like any kind of bar, really, just…less bass.” Teddy shrugs and mulls a little. One good aspect of having the biggest place she’d lived — and that only as a little kid - be the very outskirts of Pikeville, KY is that she’s used to entertaining herself without cable Internet and fairly shitty cell service and with a lot of things a good hour or more drive away.
(Granted, sometimes that entertainment was more or less legal, or wise, especially as a teen, but her desire to do stupid shit is a lot lower these days and besides, trespassing and drug use mostly aren’t things you can get arrested for in Solvunn.)
“You know, the stuff people have done for hundreds of years. Oh: There’s also the Horizon — has anyone shown you yet?”
no subject
“That’s what I said,” Teddy replies easily, eyes amused. “Though you wouldn’t really want to. Can’t throw a stone back home without hitting a sporting goods place or a Gun & Pawn, a real gunsmith if you’re in the right place, and any one of those can get you something better and more reliable than whatever crappy mass produced hunting rifles Walmart stocks.”
Not that she has opinions or anything...
She has to assume he’s joking about literally kill, though her eyebrow lifts, curious at that tidbit of information. Mom’s a chef, son makes potions. That’s one way of riffing on a family skill…
“Damn, video games lying to me again!” Teddy forges past the momentary awkwardness Chris seems to have around not being able to do that. They have pretty good healers in Solvunn, so no new magic fixall isn’t the end of the world; they just don’t have something they already didn’t have. They explain, “You know, in RPGs and shit, the healing potions are the first ones they give you? Just toting around 17 vials of whatever, downing them every five minutes. But.” They shrug, smiling. “I guess games also imply you could make a proximity-triggered bomb out of gunpowder, scissors and a tin can, or just light rubbing alcohol on fire and have a functional Molotov cocktail, so…”
“You’re not wrong about the farming and gods. I’m not sure I would call them monsters…” Though, aren’t gods and monsters kind of the same? There are some that are certainly monstrous; in that alternate future, a thing they aren’t going to mention to someone this new, Teddy herself had had times of being pretty crazy looking — and scarily empowered.
Teddy nods at Chris’s thinking-out-loud instead; that had been exactly their thought. Why not just make some of everything in case, if it stays good?
“Last time. So, a little while ago there were some…pretty wild environmental things going on that may or may not have had to do with the gods and the other two countries here, who are at war — anyway: we had to go underground in kind of — a bunker, while things blew over. Which was its own problem…” Teddy doesn’t want to recap the whole thing when he’s asking one question, and waves a hand.
“But that’s why I made the face. Explosives in a contained underground space. Unless you’re trying to break rock apart — and for that matter, even if you are, and you know what you’re doing — that’s a quick way to set a fire or collapse the ceiling or accidentally end up with toxic fumes, and it still wouldn’t have helped get rid of much of the problem.”
“And…fun. I mean. The war’s made things a little …fraught? but it mainly depends on what you normally do for fun? I’m a musician, back home, and I can still do that here; my friend Eddie and I jam sometimes.
“There are taverns and inns where people gather. Play music and drink and dance and tell stories. Like any kind of bar, really, just…less bass.” Teddy shrugs and mulls a little. One good aspect of having the biggest place she’d lived — and that only as a little kid - be the very outskirts of Pikeville, KY is that she’s used to entertaining herself without cable Internet and fairly shitty cell service and with a lot of things a good hour or more drive away.
(Granted, sometimes that entertainment was more or less legal, or wise, especially as a teen, but her desire to do stupid shit is a lot lower these days and besides, trespassing and drug use mostly aren’t things you can get arrested for in Solvunn.)
“You know, the stuff people have done for hundreds of years. Oh: There’s also the Horizon — has anyone shown you yet?”