Altair Laurent (shotinthedark) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-04-13 22:20:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !npc: duke reinholdt, !plot: founders festival, !thread, altair laurent, drake liu |
This is for you, scavenger hunters <3
Who: Altair, Drake, Duke Reinholdt, and OPEN
What: After the chocobo race
Where: Race track
When: Day 3, Afternoon
Rating: PG(?)
Status: Incomplete~
The hours Altair spent at the Chocobo Track on Saturday bore fruit during the final race. Altair arrived at the track early enough to warm up Coco, and to make the rounds.
"Good afternoon, Darlie," he said to one of the competitors, whom he knew to be a very devout Pharist. "I understand you're a bit of a theologian. Could you answer a quick question for me?"
"I suppose," Darlie said, clearly wondering why a fellow competitor would bring up theology right before the race.
"The question is, can Faram create an unliftable stone?" Altair lifted one finger as he explained, "It's a paradox. If he creates a stone that he can then lift, he didn't make it heavy enough, and has thus ceased to be omnipotent. If he cannot lift it, then he was never omnipotent to begin with. Thus, it is impossible for any being, Faram included, to be omnipotent."
Darlie's eyes had grown large. "I- I don't know," she said.
"Ah," Altair said, nodding. "Well, you think on it. In the meantime, good luck in the race." He gave her a winning smile and shook her hand. She looked dazed.
From there, Altair visited Sam, a small and agile racer who, Altair had discovered, knew next to nothing about chocobos.
"Good afternoon, Sam," Altair said, and then broke off suddenly. "Oh, dear!"
"What?" Sam asked, taken aback.
"This chocobo is very ill!" Altair exclaimed. "You aren't going to race him?"
"I was," Sam said uncertainly.
"Oh dear," Altair said again. "Well, don't push him too hard." He looked directly into the chocobo's eyes. "He could collapse right there on the field and die."
The chocobo squawked, ruffling his feathers in alarm.
"See? Sick chocobos puff up their feathers just like that," Altair pointed out. He shook his head. "Well, good luck, man."
"Thanks," Sam mumbled, but his attention was clearly on his chocobo.
So on Altair went, until he had visited each of the other competitors. He mounted Coco just as they were being herded into their starting gates. At the starting pistol, Coco and Altair took an immediate lead. It wasn't even a close race, really. The other competitors seemed to be out of steam right from the beginning. Altair finished nearly two seconds before the second-place racer.
At the award ceremony after the race, he waved at the cheering crowd and smiled. He'd done what he'd set out to do, and he couldn't be more pleased with himself. The race organizers put a floral wreath around Coco's neck and shook Altair's hand as they gave him a sack of gil: his prize money. Immediately, Altair opened the bag and took out slightly less than half, handing it to the second-place winner.
"Here," he said. "You need this more than I do. Invest it in your chocobo breeding program for next year."
Turning to the third place winner, he handed over the rest of the money. "You get more, because you need more help," he said graciously.
Then, placing a hand on Coco's shoulder, he said quietly, "Let's go, Coco," and they walked back toward the stables.