[ His name is not one she's heard before, but that applies to many things here, and she's simply accepted that her time in this place is going to be full of firsts. Especially with no clear path for returning to where she came from (whether that's Barovia or Faerûn), she's already wondering just how long she'll be stuck here.
It seems like for most, the answer to that is "forever" — a reality she's still trying to wrap her head around.
Their thoughts seems to be running along somewhat similar lines, based on his premise for asking for her phone number. She blinks once, twice, then leans back to dig into her cloak pocket for her relatively new phone. ]
Just for that? [ She can gather that he's joking, even if he does it somewhat dryly. ] Let me see...
[ It takes some poking at the buttons to re-find where her number is stored within her own phone, but eventually she pulls it up and then turns it around so that she can show him the screen. As someone new to the idea of phones in general, it hasn't occurred to her that someone would abuse having her number — though even if she did think of that, she wouldn't expect this Wriothesley to be the type. ]
[ The dichotomy of the simplicity of Fern vs. the complexity of Wriothesley.
For a moment, he's not sure if she'll agree; they are both strangers to each other, after all, and his appearance doesn't usually inspire trust upon first meeting. She'd be well within her rights to maintain her privacy. But instead she agrees, pulling out the small device he's become so accustomed to seeing around these parts. Likewise he follows suit, tugging out his own so he can store her number and offer up his—though in his case, it's in the form of sending a quick message. ]
This is Wriothesley.
[ Probably a good thing he said his name aloud first before writing it out..... ]
Thanks. I promisen not to send you too many messages.
i tried to find a youtube video of someone saying it and failed
When it comes to appearances, at least, Fern hasn't blinked at Wriothesley's. In the grand scheme of races and types of peoples in Faerûn, he would be considered run-of-the-mill. It's his actions that matter more to her, and he'd gone along with her gambit to eat a meal in samples without skipping a beat.
Her phone vibrates with a new message and she stares down at it, her brow briefly furrowing when she sees his name written out. She never would have guessed that, but at least now she knows. ]
Right. And I don't type very fast. [ She offers the warning with a frustrated sigh, rather than any sort of sheepishness. ] If I don't respond right away, that's why.
[ Who knows if he'll even message her, but either way, it seems this brief moment of fond-related bonding between them has ended, as she polishes off the last sample and then presses to her feet. ]
I should get back. [ Back where, she doesn't say. But with a parting nod, off she goes. ]
I'm still getting the hang of it myself, so there's no rush.
[ Even with how advanced Fontaine is compared to places like Mondstadt and Liyue, it doesn't hold a candle to all the things he's seen here. And while he's always been quick on the uptake, there's only so much he can learn and retain in one go. ]
Just make sure to reply eventually, alright? Otherwise I might think something happened to you.
[ Half joke, half not. They may not be friends in any way but her company had been pleasant enough the past half hour, and he feels more of a kinship with her than many of the others he's met in the strange place. But it's not enough for him to keep her and with a small wave, he watches her go. ]
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i still don't know how to pronounce his name, sobs
[ His name is not one she's heard before, but that applies to many things here, and she's simply accepted that her time in this place is going to be full of firsts. Especially with no clear path for returning to where she came from (whether that's Barovia or Faerûn), she's already wondering just how long she'll be stuck here.
It seems like for most, the answer to that is "forever" — a reality she's still trying to wrap her head around.
Their thoughts seems to be running along somewhat similar lines, based on his premise for asking for her phone number. She blinks once, twice, then leans back to dig into her cloak pocket for her relatively new phone. ]
Just for that? [ She can gather that he's joking, even if he does it somewhat dryly. ] Let me see...
[ It takes some poking at the buttons to re-find where her number is stored within her own phone, but eventually she pulls it up and then turns it around so that she can show him the screen. As someone new to the idea of phones in general, it hasn't occurred to her that someone would abuse having her number — though even if she did think of that, she wouldn't expect this Wriothesley to be the type. ]
i don't think anyone does so it's okay
For a moment, he's not sure if she'll agree; they are both strangers to each other, after all, and his appearance doesn't usually inspire trust upon first meeting. She'd be well within her rights to maintain her privacy. But instead she agrees, pulling out the small device he's become so accustomed to seeing around these parts. Likewise he follows suit, tugging out his own so he can store her number and offer up his—though in his case, it's in the form of sending a quick message. ]
This is Wriothesley.
[ Probably a good thing he said his name aloud first before writing it out..... ]
Thanks. I promisen not to send you too many messages.
i tried to find a youtube video of someone saying it and failed
When it comes to appearances, at least, Fern hasn't blinked at Wriothesley's. In the grand scheme of races and types of peoples in Faerûn, he would be considered run-of-the-mill. It's his actions that matter more to her, and he'd gone along with her gambit to eat a meal in samples without skipping a beat.
Her phone vibrates with a new message and she stares down at it, her brow briefly furrowing when she sees his name written out. She never would have guessed that, but at least now she knows. ]
Right. And I don't type very fast. [ She offers the warning with a frustrated sigh, rather than any sort of sheepishness. ] If I don't respond right away, that's why.
[ Who knows if he'll even message her, but either way, it seems this brief moment of fond-related bonding between them has ended, as she polishes off the last sample and then presses to her feet. ]
I should get back. [ Back where, she doesn't say. But with a parting nod, off she goes. ]
no subject
[ Even with how advanced Fontaine is compared to places like Mondstadt and Liyue, it doesn't hold a candle to all the things he's seen here. And while he's always been quick on the uptake, there's only so much he can learn and retain in one go. ]
Just make sure to reply eventually, alright? Otherwise I might think something happened to you.
[ Half joke, half not. They may not be friends in any way but her company had been pleasant enough the past half hour, and he feels more of a kinship with her than many of the others he's met in the strange place. But it's not enough for him to keep her and with a small wave, he watches her go. ]