[Open]
Method: Action or prose
Who: Kanda and anyone who wants to run into him.
Where: Poring Island
When: February 1, around midday
What: Killing little blobs of sentient jelly is about the farthest thing from Kanda's mind.
This was hardly the first time Kanda had been out on the island. Despite his disinterest in whatever game the place was meant to offer, he had made his way out of the airship on the very first day they touched down.
It was the flora that had drawn him out more than anything, the lush green and colorful plants of the island appealing to some deep secret affinity he'd always felt with the natural world. Or maybe he just missed the flowers: it had taken his mind some time to realize just what he hadn't seen since arriving there. The lotus blossoms were gone. Illusionary though they might have been, they were his one constant companion, now absent.
And so, with a borrowed sword of a sort unlike his own, he'd taken to wandering the island, spending his time not killing porings but just being where the place was most quiet and still. For the most part, he would simply find a rock or a thick of tree roots and sit alone, looking up at the canopy of leaves above or out across the stretches of open field. This was what he was doing now, having settled himself atop a large stone amidst a rocky outcropping worn mostly smooth by the weather, and staring absently at the tiny spring flowers that sprouted here and there from within cracks in the rocks.
Who: Kanda and anyone who wants to run into him.
Where: Poring Island
When: February 1, around midday
What: Killing little blobs of sentient jelly is about the farthest thing from Kanda's mind.
This was hardly the first time Kanda had been out on the island. Despite his disinterest in whatever game the place was meant to offer, he had made his way out of the airship on the very first day they touched down.
It was the flora that had drawn him out more than anything, the lush green and colorful plants of the island appealing to some deep secret affinity he'd always felt with the natural world. Or maybe he just missed the flowers: it had taken his mind some time to realize just what he hadn't seen since arriving there. The lotus blossoms were gone. Illusionary though they might have been, they were his one constant companion, now absent.
And so, with a borrowed sword of a sort unlike his own, he'd taken to wandering the island, spending his time not killing porings but just being where the place was most quiet and still. For the most part, he would simply find a rock or a thick of tree roots and sit alone, looking up at the canopy of leaves above or out across the stretches of open field. This was what he was doing now, having settled himself atop a large stone amidst a rocky outcropping worn mostly smooth by the weather, and staring absently at the tiny spring flowers that sprouted here and there from within cracks in the rocks.