Everyone Deserves A Home

[Huela]

February 15^th, Midday

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The alien had heard.. a few things about the large, gelatinous creature in passing. Mostly, that he wasn't too friendly. But if Huela was anything, she was stubborn, and the sight of the merman stuck in what equated to a small, muddy puddle struck chords with her. It didn't look comfortable, let alone healthy, to be stuck in the mud like that...


Clawed feet wade against the mud of the watering hole, struggling against the grip of the sticky muck. While a few inches were nothing to most, it was near-impossible to someone so small, and she was more of an 'arid grassland' sort of gal. Eventually, she finds herself up to her knees, and very much bound. Looks like there's no getting closer...


"Hey, excuse me! Sir? May I have a moment of your time?"


Be polite, be focused. No rambling.

The Gourmand | Jasper

[The Gourmand]

The Gourmand spent most of his time attempting to fix his throne to facilitate easy travel. He had gotten its steering fins working again, but was unable to get it to float in the air. Usually, he would be found with the compartment behind the dashboard open, rearranging various mechanical parts around what appeared to be a luminous blue pearl. Though the villainous merman never explained how his throne worked to anyone, since most of what he was willing to say about it consisted of barking orders for items, it could be assumed the pearl was its power source.

Brows were knit and his head was tilted down to shade his eyes from the baking sun. What appeared to be a small fan was mounted on his shoulder, blowing a stream of cool air right into his face. He could not sweat, but the discontented expression he wore told pretty plainly he was not comfortable in the heat.

His hands stopped quite suddenly. When he lifted his head, his pupils dilated to slits in the light. The fins on either side of his seat dug into the pond floor and rotated, spinning the throne around to face whoever had interrupted him. The Gourmand spent a few seconds frowning before he muttered;

“Speak.”

[Huela]

While The Gourmand’s pupils had slit in the sun, the little alien’s pupils dilate, and a look of awe spreads across her face. She leans forward, hands pressing against her thighs to try and get a better look.

“Oh, wow, I’ve never seen technology like that before! I mean, it reminds me of the crystalworks back on Avidas Vee, but that’s way on the other side of the galaxy! If you’re having problems with it, I can take a look for you—“

There’s a sharp squeak here, and the little alien slaps the sides of her face a few times. Her body seems to recoil, and her eyes screw shut, “Sorry, sorry! I get... really excited around new technology...” There’s a steadying breath here, and a pause, before she continues.

“... I wanted to ask if you were interested in a new home. If you help me by answering a few questions, I can make you a pool of sorts that mimics your place of origin.” After a moment, she finally relaxes, eyes opening again to look up at the merman, “It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re uncomfortable out here, and it seems hardly fair to leave you out here just because you’re not a land-dweller.”

[The Gourmand]

Shortly after he’d gotten turned around, he placed his palm over the top of the open dashboard, drummed his fingers for a while, before closing the hatch heavily, causing the hinge to screech. His other hand held the side of his head and two of his fingers massaged his temple. It was impossible to tell if he was beginning to get annoyed or if the sun had merely given him a headache. The Gourmand allowed the reptilian alien to speak without even the slightest reaction to the hitch mid-speech.

Apparently, he thought silently for a fair amount of time after that. Though the merman appeared brutish, the keen focus in his crimson eyes betrayed a calculating intelligence. He glanced toward the dash panel and turned a rusty knob, cutting off power and saving him the embarrassment of his vehicle responding to the random controls his stomach squashed against as he leaned partly out of his seat. As he flopped over the front of the dashboard, he reached an arm out. By the time this movement was over with, his hand was just about within Huela’s grabbing distance.

“You do look so helpless stuck like that,” the Gourmand purred, his voice made shriller so that it reeked of mocking pity.

He then jerked his arm impatiently to draw attention to it. His voice returned to its normal dark tone.

“Why don’t you sit up here? Then we can talk.”

[Huela]

The way The Gourmand had purred his words sends a cold shiver up the little creature’s spine. While the larger was still an ally, it was obvious he wasn’t exactly the... nicest person. But while he seems to tease her for her immobility, it doesn’t seem he’s going to try and drown her or anything...

“As wonderfully cool as this mud is... yesiamverystuck.” Little hands reach forward, carefully taking hold of one on the Gourmand’s fingers. There’s a soft grunt from the little thing, tiny wings flapping uselessly as she pries herself from the grip of the mud to sit in his palm. She shifts to let her legs hang off the side, making as sure as she can to not get mud on his hand. Golden eyes shift to the larger, and she offers a short nod, “Thank you very much, Sir.”

[The Gourmand]

All that was given in response to the thanks was a curt grunt as the Gourmand leaned back in his seat, resuming a more comfortable-looking reclined position. Because his bulk took up the majority of the pod, there wasn’t an ample supply of room there. He was kind enough to keep the palm where Huela sat turned up and rested it on one of the arms of the seat.

“Now, what were you on about?” he asked himself, before shifting his eyes back in her direction, “You were offering to do work for me? And what makes you think I’m so incapable of doing the work myself?”

As if to answer the question, the Gourmand took a painful breath in, his other hand gravitating toward what now looked like burns on his chest. Though he’d received the wound from the Trident weeks ago, he was still recovering from the damage it did to him. It was entirely possible he would never recover, not completely.

[Huela]

“Oh, not that you’re not capable. That’s more than apparent with the technology you’ve got going on here.” She admits, her tone completely genuine, “I figured that if you were going to, you’d have started by now. That and...”

Here, she sighs, rolling her head back.

“While I think this army’s got the right idea? They’ve hardly got any sort of supplies. Half of them don’t even have thumbs, and they live in cloth tents! A stray breeze or, you know, any sort of insurgence, would wipe these guys clear off the face of this planet! Ugh.” The little reptile seems to strangle the air, before her arms flop to her sides. She sits there for a moment, before giving a little huff and sitting back upright. Her hands work diligently as she speaks again, moving to try and remove mud from her lower legs.

“I had the foresight to bring my I-SAPS along, so I can at least supply the proper tools and materials needed to build you something more comfortable to live in. Heh, compared to the rest of this crew, you’d be living like a king.”

While she tried not to focus on it, Huela couldn’t help but observe the wound. Her head tilted slightly, unable to figure out just how he’d gotten such a distinct injury. While she’s obviously given it a once-over, it seems she isn’t willing to try and ask The Gourmand about it. If he wanted to share, she figured, he’d tell her.

[Jasper]

"This place was never meant to be a permanent camp." His voice sounded more gruff than normal as he approached the merman and the geck. His mismatched hues observed the two and stood on the edge of the mud puddle. Observing the current state that the Gourmand was in. He had wished someone would have approached him earlier about it, but it didn't matter much now. He hadn't been in the best state of mind the last few days anyway and it made him reluctant to interact with those outside his usual 'bubble'.

He was quick to focus his attention on the geck. Silently he agreed that they needed more stable conditions, they did not have a base like the Blackblood Legion or the Rogues. The Freedom Fighters were technically tiptoeing the line of destruction with such a weak settlement. He had noted such troubles in the past but with how every plan seemed to fall flat as of late he was starting to give up hope.

Yet, even through that he refused to show how tired he was of everything not turning out how he wanted. He shifted his weight to his other leg, quick to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "If you would like to improve the camp I can set up a meeting between the council and you, for now, though from what I see our guest, Gourmand was it? Needs better accommodations then this puddle." There was hardly a pause as he took a small breath. "What do you suggest we do, Huela?"

[Huela]

There’s a sharp peep of alarm as Jasper speaks, a line of spikes protruding and retracting along the little alien’s spine in a wave. One or two catch into The Gourmand’s palm, but not only are they harmless, they don’t even hurt. It’s about the same as being poked with a chopstick.

It’s obvious this isn’t a mechanism to hurt someone, but is probably to keep predators from swallowing creatures like her whole.

“Just because it wasn’t meant to be something, doesn’t mean it hasn’t become one, you know. That’s a good thing about this universe. Everything changes. Thankfully, you’ve got some crazy-big predator in there making proper, if not primitive homes. Though I’m not positive she’s asking permission... Eh.”

The little creature just shrugs, turning to face Jasper proper. Little legs cross between The Gourmand’s first and middle finger as Huela pulls something from her back pocket. Something metal, no bigger than a piece of gum. Hands work diligently, ‘breaking’ the object into four corners, in which it slides open on its own. Pink light spreads between them, forming a flat, and stunningly solid, surface. It looks like a tiny, holographic tablet.

“Honestly, I can work on request. If you wanted a giant claw-foot tub, Sir, I could do that. I hope you don’t think it too forward of me, but I, ah... chalked up a concept, myself.”

Fingers press at little round spots on the metal of the tablet, pressing a cylinder free from each corner. With all in hand, she tosses them forward, nonchalantly turning back to her tablet. The little bits of metal freeze midair, only to right themselves and take a sharp, rectangular formation. It’s here they split themselves, separating into eight corners. That same pink light spreads beneath them, and a large, three dimensional image projects between them. It’s an image of the camp.

“I’ve been told that you can survive in this puddle, but just like the tents: Just because it’s serviceable, doesn’t mean it’s preferable.”

Little hands work on the tablet, manipulating the image in front of them. The camp slides upwards, and a large structure appears beneath it. It’s here that readings of... some sort come up, in a font that’s certainly not English. She seems to be able to read it, however, as she continues to talk.

“My first draft was above ground, but it felt... I don’t know, demeaning? To sacrifice privacy for easier communication, it seemed more like a display. So I slid the whole thing underground. Not that it’d sacrifice light or accessibility. Multiple surface pools, subterranean ceilings fitted with celestial dome projectors, personal computers to track salinity, aquabarrier pressure support... if you’re willing to answer a few questions, Sir, I could have this whole thing mimic your home waters, down to the local corals, fish, even salinity and temperature. Could even add a few personal effects, depending on what you’re looking for.”

The little creature glances back at The Gourmand here, obviously a little proud. Not only is it apparent that this is very much what she’s used to doing, she’s very good at it. She’s a tiny, pocket-sized dwelling specialist.

[The Gourmand]

The Gourmand snorted, eyes narrowing as he removed his hand from the wound and moved it to rest on his stomach. He started to drum his fingers, his brows furrowed and black pupils focused elsewhere, twitching back and forth, deep in thought. A downright bone-chilling smile and short laugh appeared from almost nowhere.

“And what makes the Gourmand so special?” he asked, his tiny slits rotating toward the reptile.

Huela was spared an extended gaze because, shortly after, the sea creature was distracted by Jasper’s appearance. He nearly made a motion toward the controls before realizing his pod was still broken. Instead, he turned his head nearly over his shoulder to look at the leader completely. The Gourmand appeared to be scrutinizing him. No, not just that; the warmonger was practically leering with his crimson eyes alone.

He snapped out of it once he felt a jab at his hand. Or, he seemed to snap out of it, given that he finally blinked at least. Most of him kept frozen in his current stance, though his eyes did move down to watch the holo schematic move from the corner of his eye. Underwater, they didn’t have anything exactly like this, though it was possible to create illusions using magic spells. And the Gourmand was much more savvy to magic than he let on.

It wasn’t his conscious goal to be dismissive, but the huge beast clearly had something he wanted to stay strongly. He didn’t care much for how the Freedom Fighters were set up, no doubt about that.

“Turrets. Booby traps. Sentries,” he practically commanded, lifting a black-nailed finger and starting to indicate various points outside the camp’s boundaries.