[ Well. . . he may have some hippie-like tendencies, but he had limited time to manifest them in Middle-earth. The leisure to do so existed mostly during those wild years just after they arrived there, when he would screw anything that moved and loved those celebrations at which he danced till dawn for weeks on end. That was between fighting Orcs and raising castles and building villages and forging weapons and plowshares. Play hard, work hard! ]
[ Chuckle. ] Hippies talk about love? And what do they think about it? Do they have sages who write immortal poetry on that topic?
[ Yes, Curufin, they're called rock stars. ]
I don't get high often. There just wasn't very much decent weed in Middle-earth. And here, I can smoke what grows in the orchard and in the park, but only when the growers are feeling like partying and handing their product out to the population at large. I'd never steal the stuff; that would be unethical. And contrary to popular belief, I didn't cut down the orchard or any crop that was growing in it.
Love everyone, don't start wars. That kind of shit. Usually smoking something.
( Honestly, not the worst thing when you put it that way, but Kate, with her ever present need to be doing, has never thought much of the lax way of life associated with most hippies. )
[ Wry chuckle, which she can't hear, but the text implies it. ] I wouldn't qualify, in that case. Me and my clan started so many wars in Middle-earth that it would be hard to name them all. I still like to fight. I don't love everyone. I do believe in communication, though, here in Hadriel. When it's possible. And I do like to smoke the occasional cannabis cigarette, but that's on my days off -- and I hardly ever take any time off.
You used to get high? On what? Here in Hadriel, or back in your own world?
The conversation is a good enough distraction, but the question brings her back to why she used to smoke, those years of bad decisions. )
Home. Years ago.
( People would bring weed along with the booze they managed to score and she'd spend too many evenings sat in a park, cold and miserable and intoxicated enough to forget all of it. )
( This is a lie, and it's just that there's not a lot to tell that she would particularly want to through text, all the more when she remembers that claustrophobic dream, being dragged through the Underground towards reminders of how they ruined everything. )
That's hard to believe. [ You can't hear the chuckle since he's texting, but it's kind of implied in the words. Then the tone sobers a little. ]
I know you're had an interesting life, Kate, because you're an interesting person. But perhaps we should save autobiographies until we can tell them over drinks? Sea's getting a little rough here, and I think I'd better get up and help the others trim the sail.
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[ Well. . . he may have some hippie-like tendencies, but he had limited time to manifest them in Middle-earth. The leisure to do so existed mostly during those wild years just after they arrived there, when he would screw anything that moved and loved those celebrations at which he danced till dawn for weeks on end. That was between fighting Orcs and raising castles and building villages and forging weapons and plowshares. Play hard, work hard! ]
Agreed!
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You get high often?
( Katherine... )
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[ Yes, Curufin, they're called rock stars. ]
I don't get high often. There just wasn't very much decent weed in Middle-earth. And here, I can smoke what grows in the orchard and in the park, but only when the growers are feeling like partying and handing their product out to the population at large. I'd never steal the stuff; that would be unethical. And contrary to popular belief, I didn't cut down the orchard or any crop that was growing in it.
And you? Do you get high?
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( Honestly, not the worst thing when you put it that way, but Kate, with her ever present need to be doing, has never thought much of the lax way of life associated with most hippies. )
Not any more.
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You used to get high? On what? Here in Hadriel, or back in your own world?
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The conversation is a good enough distraction, but the question brings her back to why she used to smoke, those years of bad decisions. )
Home. Years ago.
( People would bring weed along with the booze they managed to score and she'd spend too many evenings sat in a park, cold and miserable and intoxicated enough to forget all of it. )
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What, Kate? Make a bad decision, like ever?? He doesn't believe it. ]
I saw just a little of your world, in that Dreamwalk event last year. But I really don't know much about your life back then.
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Not much to tell.
( This is a lie, and it's just that there's not a lot to tell that she would particularly want to through text, all the more when she remembers that claustrophobic dream, being dragged through the Underground towards reminders of how they ruined everything. )
Want to continue in our thread in Caedra's expedition return log?
That's hard to believe. [ You can't hear the chuckle since he's texting, but it's kind of implied in the words. Then the tone sobers a little. ]
I know you're had an interesting life, Kate, because you're an interesting person. But perhaps we should save autobiographies until we can tell them over drinks? Sea's getting a little rough here, and I think I'd better get up and help the others trim the sail.
yeeep
( Get back to work, lazy hippie. )