sixthiterationlogs | we all scream (but this time, for ice cream)

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we all scream (but this time, for ice cream)

WHO: Ravi Chakrabarti
WHERE: Inn, near the Kitchen
WHEN: June 3rd
OPEN TO: All! Mingle post!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open

There's another one of those strange boxes sitting on the porch of their home when Ravi gets up to another scorching, awful day. He's not sure what switch they hit to get this sort of weather, but he wants them to take it back, seeing as he's been sweating so much that he has to do laundry practically every day to cope with the ridiculousness of it. He can't go shirtless because he has absolutely no will to show everyone the out of shape disappointment that it his torso.

He bends to pick up the box and bring it inside, but hisses when his fingers contact something frosty cold at the bottom of the box. Opening it in a hurry, his eyes widen and he tugs the box to his chest as best as he can, taking off in a completely ungraceful run, heading straight for the inn and shouting as he goes. "Ice cream!" he says, like the world's skeeviest ice cream truck on legs, luring children in after him. "Ice cream, there's ice cream, it's going to melt," he warns, because there are six tubs of it, but he fears that in this heat, it's not going to last very long at all. Scientifically, he knows that it's just going to be calories that generate heat, but science can go take a backseat.

He unloads the toppings and the various six flavours (ranging from vanilla to chocolate, cookie dough, mint chocolate chip, butter pecan, and even a treasured cherry garcia), the sprinkles and peanuts going with the caramel and hot fudge sauces. He could weep because there are even serving spades, bowls, and spoons. He knows he ought to be wary about food after the whole chocolate poisoning incident (if it really was the chocolate), but it's just so hot and he's just so hungry.

He'll chance it, because if he doesn't, he just gets some delicious flavoured ice cream soup soon.

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Moana tried to remember how Cougar had phrased it to her but his exact words were lost somewhere in the back of her mind. "It’s when you eat too fast and your brain gets very cold from the ice and it hurts but it passes after a moment. I wouldn’t try it on purpose." Though she imagined that if he tried ice cream, it would happen on accident.

"It’s a sweet. Why not try some. I think it’s easier to understand after eating it."

She took another bite, letting the spoon balance face down on her tongue. Large dark eyes looked up at Baze as she removed the spoon slowly from her mouth. "You can try some of mine if you don’t want to get your own but you should grab some soon. It’ll melt and I think we’ll get another chance to try it again."

He's suspicious of free food, let alone free food in a situation like this, but he has to admit: everyone else seems to be fine. Unless it's a slow-acting poison. Or it's supposed to change their behavior instead of kill them.

Then again, he also kind of doesn't care and would low-key not mind dying, anyway, so after a skeptical look at her, he does pace on over to the table of ice cream and contemplate it a minute, frowning. "Do you take some of each?" Since there are multiple buckets, and all.

Moana wasn't worried about the ice cream being poisoned. To start, there were much easier ways to kill them. Moana had come to the conclusion that whoever was keeping them here didn't want the people brought here to give up.

Of course, this was all a guess but it helped ease some of Moana's worry.

"That's what I did. I like trying all of the flavors. Also sprinkles. I really like sprinkles." She held up a spoon full of ice cream that was covered in rainbow sprinkles.

There's a snort that could be incredulity and could be amusement, maybe, if you squinted or looked at it sideways. "What are those made of?" he has to ask, turning to the bowl of them on the table to pick one tiny sprinkle up and look at it up close. It looks like plastic, or whatever the Star Wars universe has in its place.

Moana blinked and looked down at her spoon. "Im not sure." She didn’t have to know what was in it to know that it was delicious. Right now Moana assumed that all of the condiments for the ice cream were pure sugar. All of the sweet things that Moana was familiar with were the fruits that were found on her island.

"Why not try it. I’ve already eaten a bunch. It won’t hurt you." Though with one small sprinkle he might not be able to taste it either.

"You don't know that," Baze answers automatically. "It could hurt you later, when your stomach decides it didn't like it." He tosses the sprinkle back into the bowl, but he does see about scooping himself a (rather small) bite of the ice cream itself. It seems... slightly less artificial. And he'll risk a little bit for something to cool him down.

Moana looked up at him with a frown. "You are very negative. You know that?" She wasn't going to ask him to suddenly trust everything here or the magically appearing food but he put up such a resistance to it that it made her wonder if he was like that with everything.

"Yes, I do," he answers, shortly but not really with malice. Rather, his explanation-- with more words than pretty much anyone has gotten out of him so far, since hie resurrection-- is bleak instead of bitter: "I am from a moon occupied by an empire that looted my temple. My holy city and the area for miles around it was destroyed. All my friends and family are dead. I am dead. I have no reason not to be negative."

Moana took each one of his words and turned them over in her head. He was right, in a way but in that same was he was wrong too.

"I can't understand. I'm from a small village..." Her voice trailed off when she remembered the state that she'd left her village in. It's dying and she needed to return the heart in order to save it. "But if you've lost so much then maybe this place can be a second chance. You can't get lost people back but they don't every leave you. Their spirits stay with you." Like her grandmothers.

Baze snorts, at that. "Believe that if you wish. But I do not." If that were true, Chirrut would be here, spirit or not spirit. "I have had too many chances, and all of them failed."

But then he tastes the ice cream, tentatively, and frowns at it, distracted from his bleakness by the flavor. It's... actually pretty good.

"Then I'll help you this time." She smiled at him. Moana liked helping people. It's just the sort of person that she was and considering her position in her village, people often came to her for help. Reaching out to Baze was a natural reaction now.

She saw his expression when he took a bite of the ice cream and frowned. "Does it take okay? Too cold?"

"Cold is good," Baze comments, distracted. "It's... very sweet." How long as it been since he's had anything truly sweet? A very long time, he's sure. Temple days, at least.

Moana nodded her head softly, tilting her chin down to look at her own bowl of ice cream. She was eating it a little too slowly and a melted puddle had begin to gather at the bottom of her bowl. She spoon a bit of it into her mouth and decided that Cougar was wrong. Melted ice cream, as long as its still cold, was just as good.

"I'm not used to sweet things like this." She admitted, half agreeing with him. Moana was having trouble eating more than a few scoops at a time and even then she started to feel her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Neither am I," Baze says. He's got a bit too much pride to admit he's missed it. Growing up and in the temple he'd had a definite sweet tooth that he'd just learned to ignore and, honestly, had sort of forgotten about ever since the temple fell. There had never been time or inclination to think about things like that.

For now, he's going to have another bite, and be less frowny while he does so.

Sorry, Moana, he's not an extremely talkative sort. You'll just have to do the talking yourself?

Moana was fine with Baze not being talkative. She was able to enjoy her ice cream while also enjoying someone else's company. It was better than being alone and eating ice cream. It was only when her bowl was empty that she looked back up at Baze.

"My stomach hurts."

She didn't sound like she was expecting this.

"I warned you," Baze comments blandly, though he can admit he's not tasting anything dangerous in his small bowl of tastiness, nor does he smell anything. It's possible it's not actually drugged, and he doesn't stop eating his own, though he's eating it slowly and paying close attention to his own reaction to it. Right now, that reaction is just "feeling cooler".

He adds, after a moment, "How much did you eat?"

Moana had the sudden urge to curl up on the floor and stay there until she died or got better. At this point she thought she'd be fine with either outcome.

Large dark eyes looked up at Baze and when she spoke, it was with a pained voice. "Three bowls." Three very large bowls of ice cream and toppings. She hadn't ever had that much sugar or dairy in one sitting before.

Her head fell on the table and once again she thought of the pro's and con's of laying on the floor.

That's less worrisome than a potential drug. He huffs lightly at her. "You over-ate. If you aren't used to the sweet, it can make you sick. Don't have more, sit and let it digest." If she throws it up again, he won't be surprised, but he's not unsympathetic. Three bowls is a lot, but you can have three bowls of rice or soup and be fine-- three bowls of pure sugar is a different story.

Moana took his advice and decided that it'd be best to just lay on the floor. Her knees bent first before she was curled up on her side, looking up at Baze with a pained expression. Her hands never once leaving the flat of her stomach.

"I'm never eating sweet things again." It was a complete and utter lie but Moana felt to awful to care.

"You can just leave me here."

Baze leans over around the edge of the table to where he can see her again, brows up skeptically (and maybe with a little amusement at her dramatics). "I don't believe that." He's admittedly never indulged to that extent-- he'd never been able to afford it before joining the priesthood, and indulgence wasn't really encouraged once he did-- but he's seen tourists do it. They usually came back for more the next day, no matter what damage they'd done to their insides.

Moana closed her eyes. She knew she was being a little dramatic but it was making her feel better.

"Yeah. I know." She signed before peeking up at Baze. "That doesn't mean I am ready to stand back up." She wished that she could make it up to her room, at least then she could snuggle up with Itiiti and attempt to sleep off the worse of her stomach ache.

"The floor does not look comfortable," he comments. Then he offers: "There is a chair, perhaps?" Stairs might be more than she'd like to deal with, sure, but there are chairs not far from where she's laying. He's not offering to help, though. Not yet, anyway.

Moana shook her head rather pathetically. She wasn't usually like this but she'd gone up against the sugary iced cream and had lost. Her head then rolled to the side, looking up at Baze and the ceiling from the flat of her back.

"It isn't that bad." Her stomach didn't hate it and that's really what mattered most right now.

Baze considers her for a moment, after another bite of ice cream, before asking, "How old are you?" He needs to know if he should be judging her for her dramatics. Or that's his excuse for asking, anyhow. She seems fairly young, to him, but she might not even be human, so it's safest not to assume.

Moana peered up at him, her dark eyes curious and unsure. "Does it matter?" She's noticed that a lot of people put stock in ages. Moana never had, nor had her village. You were either a child or an adult. There wasn't room for middle ground.

"I can move to my room if I'm bothering you." She didn't mind being vocal out of ear shot. Complaining just made her stomach hurt a little bit less.

we all scream (but this time, for ice cream)

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