Kubo ♫ Kubo and the Two Strings (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bachido) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2016-09-28 08:47 pm
bachido) wrote in legionworld2016-09-28 08:47 pm
Entry tags:
[open]
Who| Kubo and whoever wants to meet Kubo!
What| The performer is out and about, getting to know his new audience.
Where| Crew Quarters, the Habitat Deck, any public spaces where a wandering minstrel might meet music . . . mappreciators.
When| Whenever
Warnings/Notes| n/a
There was a LOT of land to wander here, a lot of seasides and mountains giving way to cities like nothing Kubo had ever seen, and he'd seen a Temple of Bones protected by a skeleton demon, a Garden of Eyes lurking under a long lake. There were whole rooms of thrumming metal and strange noises and smells, people who . . . perhaps weren't stranger than anyone he'd ever met, but not everyone had met celestial monsters and cursed humans.
Kubo was enthralled by all of it.
The chance to play for a new audience, so completely outside what Kubo had ever seen before, was exciting. He had plenty of tales that he was prepared to launch into for, say, the entertainment of the villagers back home, but this audience was so new, it paid to get a feel for them a bit before starting. They wouldn't yet drop what they were doing to listen when he started to play, and he'd have hated for someone to miss out on the beginning of a story just because they didn't know they were about to hear one.
As he explored, looking for people, Kubo played his shamisen. Though he played with less intensity than he typically performed, the lively notes were crisp and confident and two sheets of paper followed him as he walked, folding and unfolding themselves into animals, dancers, warriors in competition, moving like living creatures abstractly illustrating the music.
The boy in the red beetle robes looked around for eyes to catch, and for the glint of a flying coin or two - he wasn't putting on a real show yet, but it paid (literally) to keep a sharp eye out.
What| The performer is out and about, getting to know his new audience.
Where| Crew Quarters, the Habitat Deck, any public spaces where a wandering minstrel might meet music . . . mappreciators.
When| Whenever
Warnings/Notes| n/a
There was a LOT of land to wander here, a lot of seasides and mountains giving way to cities like nothing Kubo had ever seen, and he'd seen a Temple of Bones protected by a skeleton demon, a Garden of Eyes lurking under a long lake. There were whole rooms of thrumming metal and strange noises and smells, people who . . . perhaps weren't stranger than anyone he'd ever met, but not everyone had met celestial monsters and cursed humans.
Kubo was enthralled by all of it.
The chance to play for a new audience, so completely outside what Kubo had ever seen before, was exciting. He had plenty of tales that he was prepared to launch into for, say, the entertainment of the villagers back home, but this audience was so new, it paid to get a feel for them a bit before starting. They wouldn't yet drop what they were doing to listen when he started to play, and he'd have hated for someone to miss out on the beginning of a story just because they didn't know they were about to hear one.
As he explored, looking for people, Kubo played his shamisen. Though he played with less intensity than he typically performed, the lively notes were crisp and confident and two sheets of paper followed him as he walked, folding and unfolding themselves into animals, dancers, warriors in competition, moving like living creatures abstractly illustrating the music.
The boy in the red beetle robes looked around for eyes to catch, and for the glint of a flying coin or two - he wasn't putting on a real show yet, but it paid (literally) to keep a sharp eye out.
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"Beings from other planets. They aren't always hostile, but the ones we fought definitely were."
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Kubo had to think about that a while.
"Is . . . would the Moon be a planet?"
Was this man a soldier against another Moon King?
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He leads Kubo in and up to the counter, and one of the chefs greets them with an easy smile - it's pretty obvious they're familiar with Wash. Wash nods at them, then looks at Kubo. "So, what do you usually like to eat? Though everything's vegan here, so no meat, no fish, and no dairy, though they're pretty good at faking it. I hope you like tofu."
The chef just rolls their eyes at the now-familiar complaint. These new Legionnaires, honestly.
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"Um -" Kubo paused before asking. "How do I check if I can afford that?"
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"That's...not really something you need to worry about." But he's probably going to worry about it regardless, so Wash needs to provide a full explanation. Astronomy can wait; this cannot. "Think of it as more of a trade. When you joined the Legion, you agreed to work as a Legionnaire: go on missions, fight crime, keep the peace, whatever needs to be done. In return, the Legion agreed to take care of your needs: food, shelter, equipment, et cetera. There's no set number of things you need to do in order to earn something; as long as you're a Legionnaire, the Legion will provide for you. Like right now - you don't need to worry about earning money for food; you can just come down here and eat when you're hungry."
As if on cue, the chef places a tray stuffed with food on the counter. There's a slightly oversized bowl of rice and tofu, a small array of sauces and spices in case Kubo is feeling adventurous, a glass of water, a glass of almond milk, and a large side of vegetables because c'mon, kid, you need those. They fold their arms, satisfied, and look over at Kubo, waiting for his reaction.
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If they were trying to trick him into going into debt, maybe this was a meal worth going into debt for. Kubo's hunger won out, and he grabbed the tray.
"T-thank you," he managed, still looking stunned. All of this? Was for him? It smelled so good he almost didn't want to walk to a table before digging in, but he spotted the nearest one, and managed to get to it without spilling.
The vegetables didn't last long, for all that Kubo hadn't asked for them. In fact, there wasn't any getting another word out of him until *all* the food was gone, at which point, Kubo looked (and felt) a little like he'd overeaten.
But he also hadn't felt not hungry for a while, so overall, he was feeling like that had been an ok decision to have made.
"Thanks for showing me here," he finally said to Wash, sipping on his almond milk, filling in the corners. "Do you really eat like this every day?"
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The chef just shrugs - hey, that's their job - and tosses Wash an apple.
Wash catches it, gives the chef a nod, and takes a seat across the table from Kubo, joining him for his meal. He pauses for a moment, then thumbs the seals on his helmet and removes it, setting it on the seat next to him and running a hand through his hair before digging into his apple. While eating through his helmet is efficient and a neat party trick, he gets the feeling that Kubo doesn't need any unnecessary surprises today.
"Pretty much," he replies easily, tossing his apple core towards a trash can and just barely making it. "Like I said: the Legion takes care of its own."
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"You're a human!" He exclaimed. "I thought you were cursed or a . . . a metal person, or something."
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"Yeah, this is armor." It's not the first time he's had to make this explanation, and it probably won't be the last. "Are curses something that happen a lot where you're from?"
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For all that the surprise had been real, Kubo seemed quickly recovered from it, particularly in how casually he mentioned that his own father had been cursed.
"My grandfather turned him into a giant beetle and took his memories away. We found him wandering the Farlands years and years later. Mother didn't even recognize him."
He sipped his almond milk, oddly calm for telling a tale that, in its bones, was so awful. Meeting his cursed father hadn't been sad. Watching him die just after learning who he was, that was sad.
"I thought maybe something like that happened to you," Kubo continued, casually. "I'm glad it didn't. Father was . . . not sad, really, but he must have been very lonely all those years he was Beetle."
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(Never mind the fact that Kubo was initially trying to sing for his supper - that's terrible for any kid.)
"Oh." He doesn't have a good response for that. He's pretty sure there is no good response for that. "Like I said, there's no magic where I'm from, so curses aren't really a thing for me." Genocides sure are, but let's not talk about that particular set of problems.
"Did you get enough to eat?" The answer is pretty obviously yes, but a subject change is a subject change, and right now they need one.
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He sat for a minute, wondering how to continue a conversation with someone who had no frame of reference for magic. He settled on, "what do you wear the armor for? You said you were a warrior, in your world."
It reminded him of his home more than Wash might imagine. More samurai than just his father had fought against the Moon King and his daughters, Kubo was sure, but not many of them had been able to actually put up a resistance.
"My grandfather used to be the Moon King," Kubo said, trying to nail down the frame of reference. "He sent his daughters to kill people, back in my world. Are your aliens like that?"
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Things were . . . different now, that Grandfather was mortal and had only his memories of living with the kindness of his grandson and the villagers, but there was no denying what the Moon King had been. Too many new shrines in Kubo's town had been erected because of his hate.
Rather than looking scarred, though, or appalled, Kubo looked thoughtfully at Wash, ready with sympathy. "Did something like that happen to your city?"