catch-all for shang qinghua.

[selfimmolates]

Comments

[nosediving]

[swimming through analysis and math . . .

although not for a dip, shang qinghua is here! it isn't unusual for there to be others where he goes, so ray's presence doesn't surprise him. no, it's the sorry sight that halts his steps.]

Y . . . young man, is everything all right?

[selfimmolates]

[that's what happens with genius preteens ig]

Everything's great. [no!!!] You can move along now.

[nosediving]

[no, everything is definitely not great! it's so not great, he has to take a step closer to see for sure.]

You're covered in feathers. [and sparkles.] How did this happen?

[selfimmolates]

Maybe I just felt like rolling around in the Costume Hall.

[ugh. since they're not coming off, he climbs out of the pool, dripping water everywhere. time to go fetch a towel.]

[nosediving]

[wow. the water did nothing.]

Were you . . . trying to wash it off?

[selfimmolates]

[nothing... at all...]

Do you think I dunk myself in water for fun?

[nosediving]

[some people do. but he gets the feeling that that's not the case here.]

Why don't you simply change clothes?

[selfimmolates]

Because it's stuck to my skin and hair and I can't just skin myself!

[nosediving]

You should at least change into something dry.

[selfimmolates]

I'll do that on my own time.

[nosediving]

[right . . . of course.]

You don't have to do everything by yourself. If you're ever in need of help, you can ask me.

[selfimmolates]

[uh.]

We're complete strangers.

[nosediving]

Isn't that the case for everyone here?

[selfimmolates]

Exactly.

[nosediving]

So we should look out for each other. If we don't, who will?

[selfimmolates]

Myself, for one.

[nosediving]

But you're . . .

[covered in feathers and sparkles.]

[selfimmolates]

What?

[nosediving]

[never mind.]

Ah . . . nothing.

[selfimmolates]

That's what I thought.

[mrrrgh.

before he does anything else, though, he's going to retrieve his rifle and bow & arrows from where he's stashed them. don't mind the armed twelve-year-old, shang qinghua.]

[nosediving]

[uh.

bow and arrows, okay. but when his gaze lands on the rifle, he can't help but to blurt out a question.]

What . . . is that?

[selfimmolates]

A gun. Geez, how many of you here have never seen one...?

[nosediving]

A gun. What does it . . . do?

[selfimmolates]

Fire bullets. [a beat.] Projectiles.

[nosediving]

I am curious to know what these bullets look like. Would you be able to show me?