[ A small part of Stephen bristles at the prescriptive advice – obvious pointers for things he's already figured out, nothing new, nothing helpful – at the presumption that he must be stupid or blind if he hasn't gotten himself a phone, instead of the exact opposite. As if he needs any help to know all about this place – about the patterns of dimensional magic in its air, the overwhelming saturation of charged ions amongst its pollutants, the event horizon simultaneously drawing in multidimensional travelers while it creates an impenetrable barrier for would-be escapes. As if others would be knowledgable enough – powerful enough – to add an iota of useful information to what a being like him can glean on his own.
A small part of Stephen thinks those things, in dark corners where monsters dwell. The rest of him sighs and says almost sheepishly– ] You're not wrong. Just got here a couple weeks ago – been putting it off.
[ He's managed to stretch his small fund of this place's paper currency further the norm, given his easy access to apparated food and clothes. The fact that he can't conjure more joolies is irritating – utterly nonsensical, even – but that's fine, he can cross that bridge when he comes to it... even if said bridge seems to be getting closer each day he pays for his motel room.
Then – all other thoughts fly out of his head. Leader? Wait– ]
Are you... Bjurstrom? [ He asks, remembering the name attached to the intel he'd heard about Quadrant 3 before deciding to investigate it. Just overheard whispers in the parking-lot-turned-rest-stop of an abandoned motel out in the diffusion zone – helpful to have more than two when you want to pick up conversations downwind. ] I've been asking around about who'd know more about the science behind the diffusion zones – seems like there's a lot of chatter about what people can harvest from them, but not much about what they're doing here in the first place.
[ "Asking around" meaning hitting every bookstore he could find, and discovering that most scavenged books were from universes outside of this one, with very little – if any – published by local inhabitants. ]
no subject
A small part of Stephen thinks those things, in dark corners where monsters dwell. The rest of him sighs and says almost sheepishly– ] You're not wrong. Just got here a couple weeks ago – been putting it off.
[ He's managed to stretch his small fund of this place's paper currency further the norm, given his easy access to apparated food and clothes. The fact that he can't conjure more joolies is irritating – utterly nonsensical, even – but that's fine, he can cross that bridge when he comes to it... even if said bridge seems to be getting closer each day he pays for his motel room.
Then – all other thoughts fly out of his head. Leader? Wait– ]
Are you... Bjurstrom? [ He asks, remembering the name attached to the intel he'd heard about Quadrant 3 before deciding to investigate it. Just overheard whispers in the parking-lot-turned-rest-stop of an abandoned motel out in the diffusion zone – helpful to have more than two when you want to pick up conversations downwind. ] I've been asking around about who'd know more about the science behind the diffusion zones – seems like there's a lot of chatter about what people can harvest from them, but not much about what they're doing here in the first place.
[ "Asking around" meaning hitting every bookstore he could find, and discovering that most scavenged books were from universes outside of this one, with very little – if any – published by local inhabitants. ]