CONCEPTUALIZATION - (You’ve laid down a foundation for her to build something of her own on top.) He grins. Maybe this is what being a teacher felt like. It feels important. He feels invigorated, excited. He starts babbling more.
“Yeah! God, there was this girl that did aerostatic graffito- graffito written on the ground so uh, the coalition airships flying over the city would see them-”
This is how Harry tends to talk about Revachol. The basics, that it was his home city occupied by a foreign power, have come across in his anecdotes. It’s not exactly a detail he lingers on. Not indifferent, but not exactly passionate. Just a fact about his hometown. Something he’s connected to but also has little hands on memory of.
“And it was mixed with heavy fuel. Super flammable. When the words went up in flames it was so striking. If we could do that on a building. Without burning it down. That’d be fucking disco, right?”
He looks wistful for a moment before turning back to her. He starts prying the can lid off with his talons, squinting in concentration.
“This is going to be fucking awesome though, even if it isn’t on fire. Fire burns out fast. It can burn and leave marks but it can’t really last.”
That sounds amazing. I wish I could have seen it. [ She looks up at the building, trying to imagine the words on fire on the side of it. ] It would be perfect to write pro-Fog messages, if we can find a way to do it without burning it all down.
He beams. The crest on his head bounces playfully.
“We'd just really need to iron out the not burning down buildings part first. Bad for PR. No one will pay attention to the Fog words because they'll be all like 'ooh Harry and Abigail burnt a building down.' Message totally lost in the weeds. People won’t even care how cool burning letters looked, either.”
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no subject
CONCEPTUALIZATION - (You’ve laid down a foundation for her to build something of her own on top.)
He grins. Maybe this is what being a teacher felt like. It feels important. He feels invigorated, excited. He starts babbling more.
“Yeah! God, there was this girl that did aerostatic graffito- graffito written on the ground so uh, the coalition airships flying over the city would see them-”
This is how Harry tends to talk about Revachol. The basics, that it was his home city occupied by a foreign power, have come across in his anecdotes. It’s not exactly a detail he lingers on. Not indifferent, but not exactly passionate. Just a fact about his hometown. Something he’s connected to but also has little hands on memory of.
“And it was mixed with heavy fuel. Super flammable. When the words went up in flames it was so striking. If we could do that on a building. Without burning it down. That’d be fucking disco, right?”
He looks wistful for a moment before turning back to her. He starts prying the can lid off with his talons, squinting in concentration.
“This is going to be fucking awesome though, even if it isn’t on fire. Fire burns out fast. It can burn and leave marks but it can’t really last.”
no subject
no subject
He beams. The crest on his head bounces playfully.
“We'd just really need to iron out the not burning down buildings part first. Bad for PR. No one will pay attention to the Fog words because they'll be all like 'ooh Harry and Abigail burnt a building down.' Message totally lost in the weeds. People won’t even care how cool burning letters looked, either.”
no subject
[ It's way too risky and certainly wouldn't work, but Abigail is sorely tempted to try. ]