Hourly Challenge: Sylvalum
a/n: Nothing but dialogue between Veena and Frye (with bonus H.B. and Phog) about Sylvalum beaches.
Slight swears because Frye.
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except Veena the O.C.
"Yeah, sure, I agree, but this place sucks for sand." Frye and Veena had been arguing the merits of their current location for the past 15 minutes. This had followed arguments about best beer, divisions, weaponry, and breakfast cereal.
"Sand?" laughed Veena. "Does this look like Oblivia to you?" She gestured broadly with one arm at the silvery dunes that sloped sharply toward the still unnamed ocean. "Hint: no burning weather, no bottomless abyss." They'd been catching up with one another in the form of lively disagreements since they'd left New Los Angeles, which meant that their teammates barely had a chance to get a word in edgewise.
"No No-neck ready to stomp on my sorry carcass," Frye added. Their back and forth hardly counted as arguments, since one usually started supporting the other's position midway.
"All I see is pretty ponies on the hill and a wall that looks too much like ribs. I mean, yes, the ground is sandy but that's because it's the ground. Ground means dirt and sand and stuff."
The nearest teammate perked up, ready to discuss dirt, probably at length, then thought better of it. "Crabs," was all Phog said, very quietly.
"Oh yeah, thanks buddy. The crabs don't help," Frye argued.
Veena had her longsword out. "No, Frye. Crabs." Frye was slow to understand. So was H.B., who had been sulking silently next to the chattering pair, but H.B. had mirrored her actions by obediently readying his shield.
A few moments later, the beach was littered with claws and carapaces. H.B. looked brightly at his team and began, "I believe forfex are one of today's ancillary missions. Let me check how..."
Frye resumed the argument as if nothing had happened (and no one else had spoken). "See? Not only is this the worst sand for sandcastles, but those dang forfex will trample them all the time." H.B. resumed his sulk.
"Is that what you meant by the sand was bad?" Veena asked in surprise.
"What did you think?"
"How unpleasant the sand was. It's coarse and ... and ... gets everywhere, uh," Veena was having trouble remembering the joke correctly.
"It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere," recited Phog.
Frye slapped him on the shoulders with pride. "Prospector humor. He has a million of them. But the point is, hell yeah, sand is for sandcastles and this stuff sucks. Big time. The spores just don't stick."
"Surface tension doesn't work as well when the material is hydrophobic," Phog dipped in.
Frye grinned. "You can learn us about it all the way home. It's kind of neat, Veena, how you can figure how good a castle can get from what the sand is made of. We're thinking of writing a book on it. Phog'll do the words and I'll build the examples. Guess I'm part Prospector, huh?"
a/n: I have an image of these two dorks on the beach as kids, Frye building a realistic Castle Greyskull with much sloshing and a very small Phog lying on his belly, nose in the sand, examining the grains endlessly, slowly turning bright pink from the sun.
Also please note that H.B. finally listened to Veena in this story! I'm so proud of the geek!