revivalproject

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This is the right place to look for a helping hand, right?

So, first, I've been staking out the hunting grounds for a place to sleep, lately. It's the one with all the stinging insects; not that you aren't all charming, but at least I know what I'm eating over here. But aside from all that, I've got a decent pile-up of their leftover webbing. It's interesting stuff, but I don't have a direct use for it.

So if anyone wants it, I'm happy to give a trade. Make me an offer.

In related news, I've been working on a new style. I don't really go in for insects, but the webbing is interesting. I need something that moves to test it on properly, though, so if you think you're tough enough to take it, I'm looking for someone to help work out the kinks.

Don't worry, it's just a basic thesis right now. I'm hoping it might go all the way to telenoisis if I keep developing it, though. There's something in this, I know it.

I'm Quintet, by the way. Serious inquiries only.

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The north side...

[He lifts his head slightly as though calling to mind the map before nodding.]

Understood. I will be there shortly.

[The area near the Orange-20 building is, in a word, gloomy. The ground is flat and scrubby, choked with dead weeds and dying grass, liberally sprinkled with the pebbled detritus of slowly self-destructing asphalt. The building itself face with its broad-side north, every wide brick-face and factory window of it stubbornly silent, choked from within with webbing so that even where the glass is broken, it still clings in place, mazed with cracks and clouded with dust.

Quintet is familiar here, and has a favorite spot. Sitting atop what might have once been some kind of base for signage, old concrete cracked down the middle and rust-scarred, her perch is still solid and raised up somewhat from the ground. There's a lot of open space between here and anywhere, all the better for safety after all, and she's quietly grooming her ears as she settles in to wait.]

[It's quite the distance to traverse on foot, but Felwinter has an advantage most do not. Two, really.

One, his starting point is one of the highest points in the city. Two, gliding from such a height can allow for a fair distance traveled in a straight line if you calculated things correctly.

It wouldn't take him the entire way, but it cuts the distance by just about a third. Unfortunately the rest of the buildings along the way don't nearly offer the same amount of height to pull off the same trick, but he still manages until he runs out of rooftops to take advantage of. Therefore his arrival is rather mundane and on foot given the location he ultimately means to be, but he is here all the same.]

[She looks up as he approaches, watching and waiting until he's within polite shouting distance. There he is! With his... not-a-face. As unreadable as before.]

Hey! [She has to resist the urge to scent him. Niceties were different here, after all— and exo-people smelled weird, regardless.] You got here quick.

[Even without the helmet, his face is pretty unreadable. Expressions are not this Exo's strong point, the differences between him and Cayde like night and day.

The Hunter hardly acted like a robot, but Felwinter seems to put in the bare minimum of effort. Not that he does this on purpose.

At Quintet's greeting, he offers a nod.]

I did not want to make you wait any more than necessary.

Punctual. Nice.

[Professional, at least. As he closes the last few lengths between them, she drops from her low perch onto the ground itself.]

Shall we get right into it?

[Felwinter nods again. It's why he'd come, anyway.]

What do you need me to do?

I'm going to lay out my Art. I want to try and use it a couple of ways, so I just need you to tell me what you're getting from it. [She thinks a little, considering the ground, and their relative sizes. No, no this could work.] That's all for a start. Easy, right?

[So saying, Quintet bounds a few meters away, and assumes an odd pose. All four feet are wide on the ground, toes splayed so that every claw is out, her body leaning back unnaturally far, with her tail curled under.]

You ready?

[It sounds simple enough. He hasn't yet seen her demonstration of abilities to know what to expect, but that's part of the reason for him being here.]

Very well.

Ready whenever you are.

[Quintet puts her ears back, completing the pose; if you squint, she might, just a little bit, look like an odd sort of four-legged spider.]

Alright.

[Focus. It was no different than the jellyfish, in a way. It was a line of empathy that stroked along the ground, a territorial marker that carried information, resonant frequency. Or perhaps it was more of an entrapping empathy that carried obligation, sympathetic frequency. Her claws scraped against the broken asphalt as she spread her feet wider, stance lower still, seeking to embody the crawling, shoulder-bellied sensitivity of a giant spider.]

Octuple-comb weaving intrappe— mark!

[The style spread out, not from Quintet, but from Felwinter, a brief shimmering, that formed very slowly at first, and then with astonishing speed, until it was a complete circle, with Quintet crouched at its border, as if at the edge of a shimmering puddle. And then, just before it settled into near-invisibility, the form came clear; a spider's web.]

Okay, how's that? Are you getting any of that?

[Felwinter watches intently from behind the grill of his helmet. The stance is a strange one, but he isn't here to critique. Besides, he really has no idea what Quintet's trying to do here. Well, aside from mimicking a creature's ability, somehow.

Amber optics brighten slightly a something does happen then, and he turns his head just enough to watch the shimmer that ripples out from where he stands, like a stone thrown into an undisturbed pond. The pattern that reveals itself is quite clear, even in the brief moment that it exists.

The Exo lifts his head at Quintet's question.]

I am not sure I follow.

[He wonders if he's meant to move, and so he takes a step, glancing down at the floor to see what's become of that webwork.]

I meant, what do you see? Do you feel—

[Felwinter moves, one massive, heavy step, and the illusion shiver, ripples, and then tears itself apart on the chaotic reverberations of his footfall. Quintet's tail goes bottle-brush puffed at the sensation.]

Woah. [A sensory interplay? This style had legs— and not just the eight she'd been trying to simulate.] I felt that.

[Exos were built to for durability, and even having a slighter form, Felwinter's casual strength is still notable. But then Exos had been designed to be mankind's solution to immortality, not that things worked out as Clovis Bray had planned.]

I saw the brief design of a web.

[He cocks his head at Quintet at her sudden reaction, looking almost birdlike with the gesture paired with his helmet.]

What happened?

I noticed that the spidersilk in the tower is a lot stronger than its weight would suggest. The spiders seem to use it for everything; it's like they can communicate through it, even while it holds the walls up.

[It's fascinating.]

I thought, maybe I could use that, somehow. When you moved, the structure moved too. A vibration. That's good— if I can extend the style, it can be used as a sensory extension, to see and hear things that would otherwise be out of range. [She'd started pacing as she spoke, excited by the prospect, but Quintet abruptly stops, as a thought occurs to her] Hey, how much can you lift?

Hm.

[Put in that perspective, the notion is an interesting one. Some ability that can mimic or at least take points from a creature's natural behavior. It is fascinating.]

I am not sure what the maximum weight is that I am able to bear.

[The times he's been put to the test wouldn't be very accurate given warsats were probably some several tons in addition to the added force as gravity took hold of them once they had been flung into the Earth's atmosphere.]

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