[ it doesn't take long to get alina covered in paint. when talk of the jobs fair spreads through the base, she wends through it only as far as her second stop at the theater. it's an easy choice, as soon as she sees one of the survivors with short hair and a warm smile helping the kids get set up drawing on the walls.
at first, it's just helping the kids under 5 make shapes that they intend to make instead of ambient scribbles as they take ink to the walls of the theater where the department has determined there will be a mural. 'everyone gets to be involved' is the directive she's given, and she holds to it.
but then one of the volunteers arrives with bottles of paint.
ana kuya, under the duke's patronage, had provided a good education for the children of the orphanage. she had ensured that they would be able to think for themselves, use their minds instead of just weapons handed to them. but ravka was a country at war, with a supply chain problem in the shape of the unsea, and supplies were therefore limited. ]
Oh, no, I can't — I've barely worked with paint. [ she gawks a little, but paint is splashed out onto makeshift steel panels that serve as pallets anyway, and the volunteers are insisting that the kids learn how to do it so they can help with prop-making for sets later.
when alina opens her mouth to protest, one of the younger kids — ulga, maybe three years old — smears a handprint of yellow paint down the side of her face. alina lets out an offended croaking noise from the back of her throat, galled, and sets off to chase the little gremlin. ]
02. a mapmaker, sir
[ the moment she gets a chance to have more map data opened on her comm, alina is happy to hand it over. if that means having to go find some plant, she'll do it. ]
That'd be great, thanks.
[ no one has been eager to tell her just how much of this place they have mapped out, and what data they have recorded. seasonal changes? landmarks, land quality? she smiles tightly as the Adamant survivor tinkers with the device. ]
I'll do what I can. [ but then she's off, finding other, familiar faces amongst the hatchlings, nose buried in her comm as she tries to study the particulars of the schematic they've given her that covers the land between the basecamp and the adamant.
she nearly runs into a lot of people in this fashion. anyone she doesn't know gets a frantic — ] Oh, sorry!
[ but those she recognizes, she's more likely to accost: ] Would you help me with something?
03. wildcard
[ feel free to reach out to me via dm, discord, or protects if you want to do something specific! ]
alina starkov (shadow & bone)
at first, it's just helping the kids under 5 make shapes that they intend to make instead of ambient scribbles as they take ink to the walls of the theater where the department has determined there will be a mural. 'everyone gets to be involved' is the directive she's given, and she holds to it.
but then one of the volunteers arrives with bottles of paint.
ana kuya, under the duke's patronage, had provided a good education for the children of the orphanage. she had ensured that they would be able to think for themselves, use their minds instead of just weapons handed to them. but ravka was a country at war, with a supply chain problem in the shape of the unsea, and supplies were therefore limited. ]
Oh, no, I can't — I've barely worked with paint. [ she gawks a little, but paint is splashed out onto makeshift steel panels that serve as pallets anyway, and the volunteers are insisting that the kids learn how to do it so they can help with prop-making for sets later.
when alina opens her mouth to protest, one of the younger kids — ulga, maybe three years old — smears a handprint of yellow paint down the side of her face. alina lets out an offended croaking noise from the back of her throat, galled, and sets off to chase the little gremlin. ]
That'd be great, thanks.
[ no one has been eager to tell her just how much of this place they have mapped out, and what data they have recorded. seasonal changes? landmarks, land quality? she smiles tightly as the Adamant survivor tinkers with the device. ]
I'll do what I can. [ but then she's off, finding other, familiar faces amongst the hatchlings, nose buried in her comm as she tries to study the particulars of the schematic they've given her that covers the land between the basecamp and the adamant.
she nearly runs into a lot of people in this fashion. anyone she doesn't know gets a frantic — ] Oh, sorry!
[ but those she recognizes, she's more likely to accost: ] Would you help me with something?