Everything in Elysium was perfect, not too perfect, but the ideal mundane lifestyle. Minimal stress (unless you purposely overworked yourself), friendly neighbours, plentiful of public events to encourage gatherings and interactions. It really was such a sweet life, wasn’t it? No college today, so Nazuna was free to spend it idling around or catch up with his friends. Sadly, the others were preoccupied so he decided he would make use of his time and explore the Steppe. New items were always available, leaving his mind to wonder what there could possibly be.
Taking on the job of helping deliver items between stores, Nazuna had temporarily stopped, arms aching from the weight he had to carry when another resident had approached him. Everyone in Elysium looked different, so there was no cause to be alarmed by his appearance. This was normal. Everything was normal. Despite the other wearing a gas mask, he had to eat at some point, right?
“I mean— it’s not harming anyone else is it? Plus, some people have specific diets, so these kinds of food open new pathways to their otherwise restricted diet. If something catches your interest, I’ll cover the cost for ya! Can’t knock something til you try it, right? Personally, I’d say the vegan donuts are actually nice…”
He might eat, though by the looks of him, it probably wasn’t nearly often enough. Even one unfamiliar with Inkling anatomy could see how lank and floppy his tied-back tentacles were and how his hoodie hung loose on his noodly frame. Though, considering the nature of this place, how bad could it possibly be? Maybe he was supposed to look like this, like he was going to keel over any second.
“No, no, that’s not what I’m talking about, being vegan or whatever... It’s like...” Mask gestures to a chalkboard stand standing outside on of the stalls. It’s a little too far away to read, though. “Y’know how places claim they got clean food? What’s up with that? I sure hope it’s clean, but what makes it cleaner than other places? Kinda makes you wonder why anybody bothers to eat stuff they tell you is good for you. Like, is it really? I dunno.” He has a lot of thoughts on this, but in the moment, it’s tough to articulate them in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a raving lunatic.
“I’m uh, I’m good, thanks,” Mask answers the offer belatedly. “I don’t like people seeing my mouth, or the rest of my face...”
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