» the city network

[ okay. okay! this is easier than the first company introduction he did, for various reasons. not that he still isn't obviously a mild kind of timid about the whole thing, even as he attempts to. you know, not let that show. look, He's Trying. ]

Favorite... I don't think about it much, but. Blue. Green, maybe? Or... No, blue and green.

[ should he add more? reasoning? or pick ONE? ]

They're both calming. Like thinking about a sunny day. [ nodding, before he- looks around. help. ] Um. Do I need to say more than that?

[ he's nailing this? why didn't he go last so he could get an "average response length" reference? ]

[ because you have to go first and get over yourself, sinclair, lead the way as the senior to these two newbies-- ]

Nay, that is quite alright! I think thy reasoning is sound enough, Young Sinclair.

[ That's... not really something he's thought about. He'd all but forgotten what colors existed outside of sepia. There'd been no such thing as a "favorite color" in T Corp.'s domain, not when T. Corp. ensured everything was the same color within its borders.

But T Corp. is behind him, and his now properly-functioning photoreceptors allow him to contemplate answers other than that muted sepia. It doesn't quite solve the fact that he's not used to having things like favorites or preferences, but he'd like to offer a proper response.

He wracks his brain, sorting through every single color he can recall until --

Ah. Of course. That would have to be his answer. ]

Yellow.

[ ...no, that's not quite right. The word doesn't fully capture the exact shade he's visualizing.

He thinks of the spicebush flowers, efflorescing from ideal soil. He thinks of the way their soft petals catch the spring sunlight, glowing radiant underneath the rays. He thinks of the way they burst into season, blanketing the hills in gold.

Yi Sang prepares to repeat those thoughts, but instead of voicing them, he stops. ...perhaps it is best to leave it there. The color of those flowers -- it's something for him to remember, for him to hold close.

So he nods, deciding that one word is sufficient after all. ]

...yellow. That would be my ideal color.

Hello~ My name's Hong Lu. I hope we can get along well together.

[ the carefree flicker of a little wave of hong lu's hand, ]

I really like the colour of Don's sweater~ If I had to describe it, it's the colour of putting your face into the fur of a cat, but only if the cat doesn't run away.

[ this is the part where he could lie and say he's not picky, but he is, even if it's less so now. there's a moment of thought, and then a rather sure: ]

Sauerbraten.

[ ... ]

It's not really about the taste... Not that it isn't good. But it's more about the memories, which is probably for the best... I remember it taking a while, so I don't think I could make it now, even if I wanted to.

[ He's never been particularly picky with food. Residents of the Backstreets were accustomed to eating whatever they could get their hands on. Yi Sang is no different. He's perfectly content to snack on anything that's edible.

Perhaps the question should be approached from a different angle. There's no need to limit himself to foods that aren't downright offensive to his taste buds.

It would take far too long to sort through that list.

Instead, a memory rises and breaks the surface tension within his head:

Three children sit in a field, one of them clutching a woven basket. It holds a few round items wrapped in cloth. She takes one in each hand, offering them to both boys at her sides. "Here," she says. "I got these for us. Don't tell anyone though. I'm only giving them to both of you because you're my favorites out of everyone."

Her companions take their respective offerings. Whatever it is, it's warm to the touch. The boy with glasses picks at the cloth, unwrapping it with care in his lap. The other, quieter boy does the same until the hidden item is revealed.

"Baked potatoes? You got this excited over baked potatoes?" the boy with glasses laughs.

The girl sitting between them scowls and goes a bit red in the face. "Just shut up and eat it, okay? Do you know how expensive these were?"

The third child simply observes, clutching his cooling potato. The other boy and the girl will stop bickering soon enough. Despite the argument unfolding before him, he smiles because he knows they'll laugh it all off eventually and enjoy their snack together.

Yes, that's how things had always resolved. It had been so easy then.

Yi Sang blinks. ]

...could you repeat your question?

[ oh, he seems a tad distracted. don tilts her head, but smiles brightly and nods. ]

Most certainly!!! Thy favorite food, Yi Sang!

[ Oh. Yes, that's right.

He glances down at his palm. It's empty, but there's a warmth lingering within it. ]

My favorite food?

[ Would they taste the same as the ones back then? ]

A potato cooked over an open flame; such is my answer. ...I shall have to procure some, enough to share with everyone else.

Mm, if I had to pick a favourite food... A cup of tea is a must after a greasy meal, right?

[ hong lu beams. ]

I was thinking that I didn't recognise any of the teas here. I wonder how long they're aged for, or if they're hand-picked. I prefer tea that's at least three hundred years old myself. That reminds me, is water supposed to burn? It really hurt this morning when the water in my pot exploded. Who knew that water could fight back? Eheh.

Mm...

[ he hasn't- thought about any short term ones, honestly. at least not any he- wants to voice aloud. long term is- nda. just, nda. ]

Is a goal okay...?

[ wait. considering what he wants to answer with, that's- not a great lead up. he straightens up. ]

I-I'll answer with it anyway. I want to be a more confident, more certain person. I don't think I could've answered questions like this before, so maybe I'm doing a little better already.

[ he continues to really nail this. ]

[ There was a time when he could confidently respond with, "None." Things like "hopes" and "dreams" were for those capable of visualizing a future. But to say that he continued to lack any aspirations doesn't feel quite right anymore.

Yi Sang finds himself grasping for an answer. The options materialize in reflective shards, different choices displayed upon each one's surfaces. Perhaps those dreams had existed all along, and he simply hadn't possessed the desire to look closely enough at any of them.

He sifts through all the possible responses. He doesn't think any of them are particularly grand, and many of them are blurry, as though despite clearly existing they had yet to take proper shape.

Eventually, he finds there is an answer he can latch onto. ]

I think... I should like to build a stable one day.

[ He's never done it before, and it's been awhile since he'd designed anything that resembled a building. On the other hand, that doesn't mean it can't be done. ]

It would not need to be particularly elaborate. So long as it is a comfortable home for one calf, that would be ideal. I would ensure its access to plenty of hay and clover for it to graze at its leisure.

[ Yi Sang pauses, visualizing the stable and allowing the fragment to sharpen into better focus. What else should it contain to ensure its future resident's happiness? None of his current expertise touched on veterinary care. Surely, there would be someone who could assist him?

After all, it takes a village of at least three to care for a calf properly. ]

To have a fun time, right? I don't think that far into the future, though~

[ hong lu's head tilts must in the way of a thoughtful cat, ]

Yi Sang, by the way, what does it mean if you dream about a shark in a coffin? Do you think that's a lucky symbol?

[ Yi Sang makes a thoughtful sound and crosses his arms over his chest. Others might have dismissed Hong Lu's question as absurd musings, but Yi Sang's always taken Hong Lu's inquiries seriously.

Yi Sang always takes everyone's questions seriously. ]

A coffin is closely associated with death. But that "death" does not necessarily mean a demise. It may symbolize a change, a new path revealing itself to the dreamer. For instance, Hong Lu, you may recall how it is said that the ashes of a fallen phoenix will form a nest for its reborn self's egg.

[ The coffin is the easy part. A pensive frown settles on his face. ]

Within this dream, does the shark yet live? Has it ceased in its struggles to breathe, transplanted from the sea to the land? Perhaps the dreamer has imagined a shark with lungs, molding the creature within their thoughts to avoid inflicting unnecessary cruelty upon it. And thus, it is left to the dreamer to determine the shark's purpose. An ill omen of challenges ahead, perhaps, due to a shark's reputation as a formidable foe. Yet others would perceive the creature as a protector of the sea, prepared to defend the dreamer with all its might.

[ Hong Lu, however, has asked what a combination of those two items might mean. Another thoughtful sound escapes from Yi Sang. ]

Indeed, such a dream may be a lucky symbol. It is within the realm of possibilities. Yet, it is equally as likely that one may interpret the shark within the coffin as a harbinger of misfortune.

[ ...did that answer the question? ]

... Why is this so different from the other ones?

[ can he ask that? he's asking. forget nailing anything, the look he gives here makes it absolutely clear he's wondering why these questions are escalating so quickly.

but he presses his lips together, swallows back his urge to sigh, and answers anyway. certain and true: ]

Confront. I would confront it. I don't want to live in ignorance, and look away from what scares me. I think... even if I was a little less happy in the end, knowing that I walked without running away would make me feel more... [ how could he describe it... ] More.

[ he's not sure how to explain it without thinking on it, ruminating, but no one's going to sit here and wait for emil sinclair to go through ten anxious paragraphs. he'll leave it at that. ]

[ This is quite a different question compared to the earlier ones.

Because it's quite different, it's much easier to answer. ]

Whether that fact would bring me additional happiness, or whether it would saddle me with new sorrows -- I... do not believe those outcomes affect my answer to that hypothetical. Favorable or not, I would confront it.

[ It's not a matter of being blissfully oblivious or bold enough to wager more out of one's life. No, it's much more straightforward than that. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't close his eyes anymore or turn from the world around him? ]

...I simply wish to live with my eyes open now. That is all.

[ Even if that information introduces harm, it is best to confront it in earnest. And if that information proves to be distressing, well, that's what one's companions are for, isn't it? If the weight of that information is too much to bear, and if holding it with his own hands risks shattering them into pieces, surely someone will reach out to support that weight? And if not, surely there will be someone to assist in plucking the broken pieces off the floor, to help with reassembling the fragments of himself?

Perhaps in the past, those musings would remain as questions. Nowadays, the question marks are replaced with periods. ]

Hmm...

[ hong lu hums; the cyan of his one blue eye glimmers. he says: ]

Does it matter, though? Life will always go on, even if what you're doing right now doesn't work out, so as long as you remember that, you'll be free of worries. So it doesn't matter if I know about it or not, I'll always be okay~

[ hong lu's neck cranes over, ]

Ah, Don, is this what they call 'food for thought'? Is this what commoners do to fill their stomachs when there isn't enough to eat?

And it works wonders, truly! One cannot feel hunger if they are debating the very fundamentals of life, and putting to thought their companion's answers. It has staved off the pangs quite well in my experience.

[ what good answers she certainly expected from her companions, two of whom have faced themselves and one who has not. of course, don... wouldn't turn from something either, depending on what it is, but we haven't the time to unpack that right now. ]

[ was he TENSING slightly before the question came out thinking it would be something increasingly unhinged like WORST REGRET or THE TROLLEY PROBLEM or- yes. but the question comes out, and he visibly relaxes. ]

Thank goodness.

[ oh. did he say that out loud? ]

I mean... R-reading and drawing. I've gotten to writing, here, and that helps me sort out my thoughts... I think I just like doing quieter activities that help me think, or relax. But I wouldn't mind trying other things I haven't done too.

[ There are a few activities he enjoys in his spare time. Namely -- ]

Observing Sinclair and Don Quixote's chess games. They are... rather spirited when competing against one another. It is good to see them engaged in an activity.

[ Some might disagree that spectating his colleagues' chess games counts as a hobby, but it counts to him. Yi Sang enjoys watching both of them mapping out their moves, and he also finds himself feeling like a secret third participant. They do not know that he is not merely observing, but in fact, predicting what each of his colleagues' next moves might be.

Sinclair's strategies are easier to discern not because they are simple, but because they are proper. There's a certain elegance to his decision-making, even if he is slower to move compared to Don Quixote. Each choice is deliberate, seeking to corner Don's king before ruthlessly pursuing checkmate.

Don Quixote's moves are more challenging for Yi Sang to anticipate. In each of Sinclair's moves, there is always a sensible means for her to respond. But instead of selecting one of those options, she continuously surprises Yi Sang by choosing something completely different.

...there are, however, times when observing those games inflicts agony to the point where it stops being a fun hobby.

It's during those moments he finds himself hovering over Don Quixote's shoulder, gently offering her pointers after she's lost more than half of her pieces to Sinclair. And despite trying to be discreet about it, Sinclair catches him whispering to her every single time. It's a game within a game.

He probably shouldn't be helping Don in those moments. But the longer the game goes on, the more time he gets to spend witnessing his colleagues' moment of camaraderie. Allowing Sinclair to claim victory too swiftly means less time spent observing them having fun.

Maybe he'll ask to join in next time, requesting a match against the winner of their future game.

...which will probably be Sinclair. Yes. Definitely Sinclair. ]

I like seeing new sights, and doing new things. Can you have a hobby that's always changing?

[ hong lu folds his hands behind him, prim, much as if a child on a field trip; ]

Regardless, I hope to meet everyone here, and have lots of fun~