[ Aether. But just another word for 'chroma'. Sciel's still a little wary about all of this talk of other worlds and things. It's like there's an itch in the back of her skull that suggests all of this is a weird little dream, and she'll wake up in a pile of leaves having been smacked a little too hard by a Nevron. So it's a funny thing, to hear the word, and Sciel makes a sound in her throat that could be construed as a chuckle.
It also sounds a little strained. ]
Guess we're not so different about magic, though I'm not the expert to be asking.
[ It gives her a moment to think about how she wants to respond to his question. Sciel gives a helpless little shrug, leaning back against the railing of the fire escape. ]
Stagnating was probably the wrong word. But, ah-- [ Hmmm. ] Imagine if, in your world, there was this big beautiful tree you could see from halfway across the continent. And every year, something woke up to change this number on the tree. And it would count down from one hundred.
[ Her hands have settled on her knees so she doesn't talk with them and betray her nerves. ]
And when the number appears, if you're older than that age, you just... [ She snaps a finger. ] You die. And disappear. Like that.
[ The ease of her smile is gone. There's an odd calmness to her expression as she speaks. ]
We're at 33 now. So, yeah, our numbers are kind of...dropping off. Everything we try to do now is limited, whether it's farming or teaching, designing new tools, what-have-you's.
I'm just describing the premise of the game, I promise no spoilers lmao
It also sounds a little strained. ]
Guess we're not so different about magic, though I'm not the expert to be asking.
[ It gives her a moment to think about how she wants to respond to his question. Sciel gives a helpless little shrug, leaning back against the railing of the fire escape. ]
Stagnating was probably the wrong word. But, ah-- [ Hmmm. ] Imagine if, in your world, there was this big beautiful tree you could see from halfway across the continent. And every year, something woke up to change this number on the tree. And it would count down from one hundred.
[ Her hands have settled on her knees so she doesn't talk with them and betray her nerves. ]
And when the number appears, if you're older than that age, you just... [ She snaps a finger. ] You die. And disappear. Like that.
[ The ease of her smile is gone. There's an odd calmness to her expression as she speaks. ]
We're at 33 now. So, yeah, our numbers are kind of...dropping off. Everything we try to do now is limited, whether it's farming or teaching, designing new tools, what-have-you's.