Describe your character's voice. Do they speak with an accent? Are there certain words they use more often, or certain quirks to the way they talk (such as using filler words or mumbling)? Are they soft-spoken, or typically louder? Do they like the sound of their own voice, or is it something they try to avoid listening to when possible?
M E T A
Safiya is soft spoken at all times. Even in moments of frustration and anxiety, she takes great care to regain control of herself. She hums a lot when she speaks. She hums between the silence of sentence. She hums when she thinks about what she wants to say. She hums to fill in expression. It's not that she needs a constant sound in a conversation, it's about resonating with the moment and the person she's talking to. It just feels natural to her. If she's distracted there will be less of the hums and more disjointed.
As for words, she tries to be very careful with them. She's very consciousness that she wants to put good vibes into the universe. She wants to give people positive words. yeah. Thanks for watching. Glee.
No. I'm doing it just to spite you. I don't suffer from incontinence.
I meant metaphorically hiding a vegetable. Fuck you. How dare you give me your special cinnamon. Your cake better good or I'll be very furious and I will tell you all about it.
[pm] Stop appreciating them. I didn't tell you to appreciate them. Don't accept anything into your heart. Stop that. Be meaner to me. Tell me I'm ugly. Tell me I'm annoying you.
Oh, we are not equals. Are you a human, péist?
Yes, abducting/taking without consent. Why? Do you have any advice? I would like to make it a special occasion.
Everyone's body goes through different struggles. I won't judge you for your incontinence. Even if you get it out of spite for me.
Please. I will all feed back. Whatever made you furious, I am sure I can improve upon it.
[pm] Everyone is beautiful in their own way. Right now your beauty shines in your ability to speak your mind. I think it's wonderful that you put your thoughts out there for everyone to see. It's courageous, a lot of people are too scared.
Yes. Are you, Petal?
I'm generally against those kinds of actions. So my advice would be, perhaps ask them nicely?
TIMING: August
PARTIES: Safiya @relievinghands and Samir @razorsharpteeth
LOCATION: A farmer's market in town
SUMMARY: Two siblings reunite after a decade at a farmer's market. Despite some tenseness, they are both glad to see the other and promise to get in touch.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Parental death mention
He missed cooking. That wasn’t to say Samir didn’t cook any more — he made plenty of meals for himself, day in and out, but he didn’t cook like he used to. For a paying crowd, for people who appreciated and loved it all, for dozens and dozens of people, day in and out. The restaurant business was best left behind (considering his spotty availability), but he yearned for it. The cooking classes came close, at least, even if they lacked the exhilaration of a proper restaurant’s kitchen.
Walking the farmer’s market, he was in search for the very best fresh ingredients for a cooking class later that afternoon. It was a nice distraction, this place of noise and all else. It was some kind of proof of humanity, which Samir did keep looking for. And then, in the corner of his eye, came one of the largest reminders of just that: a familiar face.
How long had it been? A decade, if not two of them. He found himself halting, the person who’d been walking behind him crashing into his body. “Sorry,” he muttered, though it hardly seemed like it was him speaking as he continued to stare at his sister. Sister, I have a sister, and three more siblings, a mother and a home I abandoned. Wasn’t that what made him the most human after all?
He stood there, frozen, almost sick with it. Happy, in a sense, but afraid — afraid, because he was now a man littered in scars, one who had a monster inside, one who had built himself from shame and was on a constant verge of collapse. Before he could decide what to do, she turned her own head and then their eyes met, across stalls, across vendors and patrons, and Samir felt human in the worst way. In the way it hurt.
The scent of fresh bread, herbs and other home-made goods was consumed Safiya from the moment she entered the farmers market in the best way. Some weeks, Safiya set up a stall herself, a place where she could sell arrangements of flowers, herbs, and spices she grew in her garden. But today she was a paying customer. She wove her way through the crowd, stopping every now and then to exchange a smile, a joke, a word, or a comfort. These were people she had known for years now.
As Safiya meandered, she stopped frequently. The barter system was alive and well within the community she’d made for herself. A loaf of bread was handed to her in exchange for a potion. Money wasn’t everything, but Safiya was well aware of the privilege she had to say that. Her mentor’s death had found her in a situation with more money than she could have ever dreamed of. From growing up as a kid, sharing her childhood bedroom with her brother from lack of room in the small house, to a mansion teeming with space. It wasn't often that Safiya thought about her past. There was a pain that radiated deep within her chest when she thought of her family. One that felt like a mix of guilt from her betrayal and sadness over something lost. It was better not to think about it.
Dreg, a small boat owner, who came to the farmers market to sell seashell related items was in the depths of telling Safiya about a difficult voyage he had undertaken recently. Safiya listened with generous attention. Giving people attention was something she was good at, and she prided herself on being a good listener. But there was a tingling against her skin that told her someone was looking at her. It distracted her enough that she decided to glance over to see who was looking at her.
The glance turned into a look turned into a stare. Familiar eyes were looking back, eyes in a face that had once known better than her own, but had been changed by time and – was that a scar? Safiya’s breath caught in her chest, as she raised a hand to stop Dreg in his story. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was a whisper, “I’m sorry I-I have to go.” Safiya moved, letting the crowd's current drift her closer to her long-lost brother. “Samir?” It had taken too long to get there, and yet she wished she had more time to prepare. “Samir.” Safiya repeated, but this time without the question. This time with the love and warmth of a loved one reunited. “I’ve missed you.” A hand reached out for him, then backed off. It had been years, decades. They were strangers now.
It was a ragged scar by now, that memory of Safiya leaving him back at home. Orlando was a lifetime or two ago, but it was still always in the back of Samir’s mind. It was the best way to remember the person he had once been — the kind of things he was capable of. The person he had become in the face of the loss of their father, with a straggle of younger siblings looking up to him. Except for her, right? She’d stood by his side – it had been them trying to fill up the gap Tarik Zidan had left in his family, the one their mother was refusing to fill with her own parenthood. And then Safiya had left for greener pastures and Samir had raged.
He’d never quite forgiven himself for that anger, just like he’d never quite forgiven her for looking for something better and brighter. It hadn’t helped, the way his mother would speak of Safiya and her abandonment, as if it was a betrayal on the full family. Time had given him perspective and nuance, but sometimes he was still eighteen years old, working two different jobs and watching his best friend go. Samir thought of that now, too.
But he thought of much more as she started approaching him and he started moving himself, taking as large steps as his legs would permit towards his sister. Sister. He thought of the intervals of reunion, that had become less and less over the years. He thought of how it must have been a decade, now — how unforgivable that was. He thought of how he missed her, that kind of companionship that was created in a house where you experienced the same growing pains. Or, well, most of the same ones.
“Safiya,” he answered. Why was she here? In this damned town? There were questions dizzying his mind, implications making his feet unsteady but there was no time to ask them all. Samir reached for her hand just as she had retracted it, but he just kept going. She had made the first move, but he’d make it definitive, taking her into his arms. A short hug, but one nonetheless. “I’ve missed you too. I — what are you doing here?” Let her be passing through, for whatever tourist-attraction had appealed to her. He was glad to see her again, but he could not let her see him, not in the full way — not in the way he’d grown to be, over the past half decade.
“Samir.” Every time Safiya repeated the name was a reminder that they knew each other. Despite the decade they had spent apart from each other, they were flesh and bone despite not being blood at all. Samir took her hand and they were six again, hiding in the abandoned lot underneath the crate fort they had put together and Safiya was showing Samir the cool frog she had caught, and he wanted to hold it too so they had sat there with their hands together, giggling the hours away until the street lights flickered on and they were forced to make the mad dash home before they got in trouble for being late. The way he had said her own name was a memory of home. A memory of their shared room with secrets about their classmates shared when they were supposed to be asleep. Had it really been a decade since their last visit? How cruel time was to move so fast without a second thought.
Safiya’s smile had bloomed as easily as any of the flowers in her garden. After their hug had ended, Safiya’s hands refused to let go of Samir’s. Her hands held tightly on to his calloused, scarred hands. Hands that had worked for a living. Doing what, Saf couldn’t answer, but she knew these hands. Their landscape may be different, but they were her brothers. “I live here.” Safiya cast a fond look over the farmers market. “For, gosh,” She let out a laugh. “Samir, I don't know if you know this, but we’re old now. I’ve lived in this town for at least thirteen years now. If not longer.” Safiya let out a soft chime of laughter as she thought about it, mixed with the joy of this unexpected reunion. “What are you doing here?”
She took his hands as if they were worthy of being held with such kindness and familiarity, as if they were still the same ones that had held hers when their father had died. They were calloused and rough things now, not just because of the labor in kitchens but uglier things and Samir swallowed, wanting to shove them in his pockets where they would become invisible. There was so much past between them, three decades worth of them — but then there was also that decade of absence that had followed. Where the world had turned on its axis and he’d been irrevocably changed and she must have, too. Not that he knew of all the things that must have happened. (He wished to know, but he couldn’t return that favor, so he figured he might never know her again as he once did.)
His hope had been for naught, as it always was. She lived here. Had been living here. Would be living here. Maybe she even knew of his place of employment, tucked in a corner of Worm Row. But she didn’t seem the type to visit, even now. “Thirteen years?” He echoed her words, as if he couldn’t believe them. Of all places, she was here. Where he’d trapped himself in a contract and cage. Samir pushed away those thoughts. “I’ve … been in town for a while, a few months. I live in Harborside, above Seven Seas?” It was posed as a question and he wasn’t sure why. “Shit. I should’ve — sorry, I should’ve come to find you.” He should have known she was here. “I got a job here, so that. Been surfing a bit, volunteering. You know. What about you?”
Safiya listened with rapt attention as Samir offered the structure of his life. A skeletal frame that outlined the day to day of his existence but lacked the depth and character of all the details she wanted to know. Is it comfortable? Do you have friends? Have you been eating? Are you happy? Each question would be a brick laid against the frame, fleshing it out and constructing it into the home of his existence. But the questions never made it off her tongue, as doubt flitted against her. Did she deserve to know these things? “No,” Soft smile, a tinge of sadness and regret because she was always incapable of keeping her emotions off her face. “No, don't be sorry. You didn’t know. I don’t think I ever said.” And if she had it was years in the past, and who could remember the last time they’d seen each other? Or the last time their email addresses had shown up on their computers, or even a text message lit up the phone.
“Seven Seas, that’s the fish shop, right? I know the place.” One of Safiya’s hands dropped away from Samir, fumbling in her pocket then her wallet to pull out the piece of cardstock. “I run a hot spring, Over the Garden Wall. I also run a garden, although it's technically part of the home estate and not the hot spring.” A chime of laughter followed the statement, originally her mentor had said the garden was going to be the focus of the shop until her mentor discovered how to utilize the hot springs for wellness, but the garden was always the focus for the spell casters living there. “You should stop by. Any time. I can’t say I’m always there since well,” Safiya gestured the rest of the unspoken words, since she wasn’t there right now, “But I’m there most of the time. I want to hear about everything. Do you like your job? What do you do? Are you good at surfing now or are you still wiping out?”
She told him not to be sorry, but at this point in his life Samir wasn’t sure what else to be, what else there even was to be. His entire existence seemed lined with regret, with the knowledge that the world would be better off without him in it — that his own incessant need for survival had cost and would continue to cost lives. He was sorry. For not keeping in touch with his siblings, all of them. For not calling mom enough, even though he knew she was growing older and lonelier as life went on. He was sorry, for never having asked Safiya where it was she’d ended up. He was almost sorry that she saw him now, this cracked and broken version of him. “Alright,” he said in stead.
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, one of many. One of the better ones sometimes. Got a tiny place above it. Smells like fish most of the time, but I got used to it.” He took the card, looking it over and then up at his little big sister. “Wow, Saf. That’s pretty fucking cool. A hot spring, that sounds real relaxing.” He wouldn’t mind floating around in some hot water right about now. Samir thought of his scarred body, though, and the questions that would follow if Safiya were to see him in swimming trunks. It’d be weird if he showed in his wetsuit. “I’ll try to come by, okay?” He would try. “Maybe just to visit the garden. Have been helping out at the community one, at the center? That’s a nice one.” He grinned. “Still good at surfing, still better than you’ll ever be.” The question about his job remained unanswered, purposefully so.
There was a second where further invitations touched the tip of her tongue, ready to burst through the barricade of her mouth. “You can stay with me if you want. I have plenty of room. Or a guest house, if you want it.” But the bravery to speak the words into existence faded as fast as it had surged through her. The words were swallowed back on her tongue. Left to recycle into new words. Because if Samir came and stayed with her, she couldn’t keep the magic secret. And if he found out about the magic, he would find out about all the lies she’d used to cover it. Safiya never left home to go to college, she left home to find a coven without knowing the word for it. There were a world of white lies that had shifted into an unmovable boulder of one big insurmountable truth. Magic was real and it was in her.
“Yeah it’s a great place. You can come anytime. I’ll tell everyone to look out for you, even if I’m not there. Free access to all the facilities and all that. The family discount. All that.” It was weird, wasn’t it? The word family had always been more of a concept to her in recent days. A memory that was there but rarely accessed. A word used in daily conversation but always in regard to someone else. Not her. But now it was real and tangible and ten years felt like no time and too much time all at once. “The community center! That’s wonderful. Truly. But you’ll never be better at surfing than me, but it’s nice that you keep trying.” Safiya noted the lack of answer about the job. He looked rough, she wondered if he had a job. She wondered if she had the right to ask. Guilt, her oldest companion, seeped into her bones once more. The death of her mentor had left her with a networth in the millions, and her own brother was struggling. “Honestly, Samir. It’s so good to see you. Please come by anytime.” Take whatever you need or even want.
The family discount, she said, as if it was all that easy. Of course, she had never stopped being his sister, the same way he had never stopped being his siblings’ brother — but Samir felt like he was without family. Like he had severed himself. Even if he wondered about all of them, so very often, those once-kids who’d given him purpose and now existed as fully functioning adults, somewhere better off than around him. He smiled at the offer all the same, because it was kind and it was inviting and he longed for these things, even if he was undeserving of it. He didn’t bother to offer the same thing in return: he wasn’t sure if the Grit Pit did family discounts, and even if it did, he wanted her far away from there. “Sounds good. I’ll … message ahead. Are you on that social network they’ve got here?”
The center was wonderful. These corners that existed in so many towns were wonderful. Samir found hope in them, release and relief in the sheer idea that there were places where people looked out for one another, not for monetary gain but for other reasons. Goodness, usually. (What was goodness, anyway? He found it such an intangible idea, perhaps because it wasn’t meant for him any more. He’d felt good once though, hadn’t he? Burdened, but like a good person. Now he was hardly a person any more.) He blinked at Safiya, chuckled, “We’ll just have to go out and see, catch some waves here. Yeah?” It seemed good, to both open a door. To say let’s follow up, but to not quite do it yet. “It’s good to see you too, Saf.” But it was overwhelming too, undoing. He wanted to light a cigarette, but had a feeling she wouldn’t be a fan. Not that he knew — maybe she smoked like a chimney too, now. “Will see you around?”
“Everyone is on that site.” Saf replied, a laugh sparkling at the edges of her words. “It’s amazing that they got everyone in this town to forget about facebook to use it.” If her life hadn’t shifted away from traditional social media, would she have done a better job at keeping in touch? “You’ll find me under my name.” Nothing had changed. No one had been welcomed into her life to change her last name, she hadn’t sought a new one. Perhaps she should have. After she had left out on her own. Become a new person apart from the rest.
“Yeah, we’ll hit the waves on a warm day.” Winter was coming, the air getting colder for them faster in the north. “I’ll show you my skills are unrivaled.” The conversation was over. The natural end. The awkward pause of two strangers wondering what came next. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.” Safiya reached for another hug. Another awkward moment before drifting back into the crowd with a simple wave. There was a static in her head. The kind that came after too many emotions loaded the senses, and the high if the adrenaline was living the body. Leaving behind a husk that had expanded to intake the new emotions, but was now empty. Too big for so little. Too unsure what to fill it with. Safiya looked back this time.
“Sound. I’ll reach out.” He was surprised to find out that it wasn’t just said to be polite: he did intend to reach out to her. Samir wasn’t sure when or what he’d say, but the intention was there and it was jarring. All these years, he’d not let out much of a sound to his siblings, least of all Safiya. Admittedly, with her there had been the least guilt — she had once been the first to leave, after all. But she was here now, and so was he, and it wasn’t like there was anywhere else for him to go.
He let out an amused sound. “Afraid of a little cold, Saf?” Saf. The nickname felt so familiar in his mouth. Samir thought of how he’d often thought of her not just as his sister, but something like a twin — like the one person who understood. How far gone those days where, now. He accepted her hug, inhaling and wondering if she’d always smelled like this. He couldn’t recall. He remained standing as she disappeared, venturing in the crowds, and he tried to remember what he was here for, again. What he was supposed to get, what he’d already gotten. As he tried to focus on that, he caught another glimpse of her, looking back, and he smiled.
Forgive me, I'm not trying to lure you anywhere. I don't want anyone to go anywhere or do anything they are uncomfortable with. I am just passionate about offering a tranquil place for people to relax and find their inner peace.
You grow spices in your garden? In this climate? I don't think I want cinnamon from Maine. You promise? [...] Fine. I promise not to stab you this month if you make a carrot cake with your suspicious garden spices--agreed? Yes, well, I'm also rich and dreamy. And decadent. I suppose you're spicy and hiding a vegetable.
I'm not a petal. Do that, péist.
[pm] You're a fool. You will be remembered kindly in your death, I'm sure. You will be held well, for however long those around you can hold you. But you seek change you cannot make. For your sake, I hope your death comes with delay; I hope Fate has patience. These sentiments are the best I can offer you.
And let you win? I don't think so. This is your game, isn't it? Pretend to be kind so I piss off. Then you win. No. I'm not letting you have the satisfaction of sending me away. I will win. I will find whatever it is that you're hiding and I will make you piss off and block me. Whatever the fuck that means.
Climate controlled greenhouses are wonderful thing. My cinnamon trees are excellent, I assure you. I will admit I do cheat with cinnamon sometimes. The trees can only be harvested about twice a year, and we got through a lot of it at the springs. I would need more space for cinnamon alone to keep up with the demand. But don't worry, I'll make your carrot cake with my delicious cinnamon so you can try it. Hiding a vegetable? I assure you, my vegetables are on full display in my garden.
[pm] Those were very kind words for you to say to me. I appreciate them, truly. I hear the kindness in them, and I accept it into my heart. Your blessings will not be forgotten.
There isn't winning or losing. This is just a conversation. We stand here equals, and we part equals. Even if you block me for your own personal wellbeing. I'd respect that. A person who knows what they stand for, and stand for it, is a person worth knowing.
Not to overstep, but do I see you planning a kidnapping? Or sorry, a "taking without consent"?
It's going to warm your body, easy your bones, and give you a place to relax. If you allow it, that is. But if being wet isn't your thing, we are next to a garden that some people find very relaxing to wander through.
You have a reply for everything, don't you? Do you ever get tired of being so nice? What if I have a medical condition that means I need to stab someone every week? Luckily for you, I do enjoy a hot spring.
I like carrot cakes. Spiced cakes have wonderful flavour, if made right. Of all the cakes you could have chosen, you went for the under-appreciated one with the more complex flavour profile. I like Black Forest: cherry and chocolate, you can't go wrong.
You need to hear more news, then.
[pm] Stop calling me a You won't change this world. Waste your time being as kind as you want. Human nature is selfish and immature; whatever people you convince to turn down the path of kindness will make no difference. Nothing will happen. Kindness, cruelty, in the grander scheme of the world... what does it matter? For the brief moment you are alive in this polluted world, you wish to spend your energy fighting a losing battle? Why?
You are a truly upsetting individual, péist. Your life is not great. People like you don't have good lives. You're hiding something.
Yes. It's polite to respond to everything. I wouldn't want you to feel like one thing you have to say is less important than the others. I don't get tired of being nice. I think I could be nicer, honestly. That would be an interesting medical condition. Maybe we should talk about it further to see the root cause. Perhaps you could get away with stabbing something else. You should stop by then. Perhaps it'll help with that medical condition.
What a pleasant surprise to find a fellow carrot cake enjoyer. My carrot cakes are home made with spices I grow in my own garden. I'll make it for you some time if you promise to not make me one of your weekly stabbing victims. A black forest, delectable. A good palette choice. Rich and dreamy, I like the decadence of it.
Perhaps. I will take that under advisement, Petal.
[pm] I will change the world. It may be my corner, my small area, but it will be brighter and better for it. That's all I can ask for. I will waste my time being kind. Human nature is to want a better life, and if everything feels like its working against you, then you claw and fight your way to a better place. It may look selfish and immature, but if you offer help, then it doesn't need to look that way. Maybe it doesn't matter in the grander scheme, but it matters to me. That's enough for me. It matters to me because for the brief moment I am on this world I can be beautiful and share that beauty with others. Or, I guess I should say I can be an air purifier, helping with the pollution. I can't clear it all, but I can help.
I am deeply sorry to have upset you, Petal. Would you care to block me so it doesn't happen again? I'm not hiding anything. My life is great. But your personal wellbeing should be important to you. Seek your peace, press the block button and free yourself of someone truly upsetting.
Oh, that's a good question. I think a lot of people enjoy the tranquility of the surface. The glistening of the light. The patterns made by the waves. But more of people do enjoy getting in the hot springs and not just looking at them.
Of course you wouldn't. If I told you I had a medical condition that required me to run around naked, would you oblige that? [user is distracted by cakes]
What flavour of cake is your favourite?
Fine. Yes. Agreed.
[pm] What? Like the world is some vending machine you can slip your kindness coins into? Fate doesn't reward kindness. Terrible things happen all the time to good people. Surely you must know this. Petal???? Like on a flower? Who the fuck are you calling a You're wasting your time, péist. On me. On the world. What reward do you seek for your foolish efforts?
Obviously. Sensitive skin is no joke. We do have a naked section at the hot springs that might interest you. As well as some private areas, which you can obviously dress however you want there.
Most people hate this, but I am the carrot cake enjoyer. You know how people are always like "Who likes carrot cakes? Why do people make them?" It's me. I like carrot cakes. What is yours?
That is the most wonderful news I've heard today.
[pm] No. Like the world is a mass of actions and choices, and if I want to see a kind and beautiful world I need to do my part to make it become one. I can't control anyone but myself, but I can do my best to show everyone the kindness I think they deserve and hope they will offer me, and others, the same. If fate isn't happy with that, well, I guess it's out of my hands isn't it. Bad things happen to everyone, petal, not just good people. It's a risk we all take.
I don't want a reward. I don't need a reward. My life is great. I get joy in trying to help people reach their great life. Oh. Maybe that's the reward. The joy of helping people. No one is a waste of time. Not to me.
Guess we'll just have to make new ones. I, for one, love not choking on my drinks.
It's very 'escapist fantasy' when you describe it like that. It's alluring!
. . . Touche, amiga. Next time I'll lean more into the whimsy of it all. It's like Fight Club but instead of fighting it's healing so it's like the opposite of Fight Club.
I can see the appeal. I'm all for a little danger, but not in my beverage. Especially not when we're trying to create a comforting and safe environment at the springs. Customers choking on their drinks would be a bit of a pitfall
Part of the appeal. Every little detail goes into making sure everyone has a wonderful time from the moment they walk in our gates.
Fight Club probably would have been more boring from that angle. But I'd like it more. We do welcome our guests to talk and share their experiences. Helping us help others, you might say. Plus, word of mouth is much more appealing then billboards.
Yes and no. I'm allergic to anything leafy and green. I have a very healthy diet of cake and the occasional cookie. Why would I want to ruin it with kale? I'm perfectly healthy the way I am. Unlike you humans I can get away with it.
[user is baffled by this strange display of kindness. user is uncomfortable] I do [...] like black tea. Quite a bit, actually. How did you know that Why are you suggesting something that's actually fun? My mother and I used to drink tea together. When you read the tea leaves it's all bones and bodies. That sounds like a very lovely evening to partake in, actually.
[pm] What are you trying to do? I made a joke and you took my joke and made it nice. Why did you do that? You're not supposed to do that. Did someone put you up to this? Who's paying you?
Oh, I understand. It's a medical condition. I would never do anything to impose upon a medical condition. To tell you the truth, I'm also a fan of cakes and the occasional cookie. I can't fault anyone for that.
I'm sure we can set it up. I'm sure we'll both find it much more agreeable than ethanol at the hospital.
[pm] I am trying to put the energy I want to see in the world, into the world. We get back what we put in, after all. If I want to see kindness and help towards other, than that's what I'll give. That's why I did it. That's while I'll keep doing it. And nobody put me up to this, or paid me. Is there someone out there trying to ruin your jokes by paying people? If there is, it sounds like an interesting story. But I'm not one for subterfuge or manipulation, Petal. I just want to help.
I can tell. A few nights of numbness doesn't always lead to a dependency issue even though I can see what you mean. Yes, people can start using it to run away from their problems and drown out the trauma of their pasts but I also think it's a fun way to lower inhibitions and start allowing yourself to lose the chains that can shackle the mind whether that be anxiety or shame or whatever it is that causes people to overthink too much. Using alcohol as a crutch isn't the best option in the world but having one fun night every now and then without those constraints won't be the end for most. People just don't know what they can handle most of the time.
There are hot springs here? Wait, where are they because I'm ready to come by right now.
Exactly why in moderation is key. If one night of full fun is what you want, then I fully support it. We also want to help form healthy habits when it comes to facing anxiety, however. Box breathing, calming teas, thoughtfulness. It doesn't work for everyone, anxiety and shame and the like are tricky beats of burden. But we want to help in any way we can.
[user drops the address] We look forward to seeing you. Hopefully we'll be able to offer you a relaxing experience.
Regular ice cubes are so boring, yeah. There's plenty of shit people do with the shapes, but the real treasure is in what you add. Frozen flower petals, or herbs, yeah. Pretty and tasty.
I agree now that the thought is there. I've been doing a disservice to everyone who has walked through my establishments doors. This is a game changer. I feel like our quality of service has just gone up tenfold.
I am proud to say I do. It is my passion and joy. I didn't start it, but I am the current caretaker.
It is a body of water that is heated by natural sources, making it into something like a hot tub. But natural. With no water jets. People find them to be very relaxing.
Well, you're no fun. Moderation, pssh. No, but really, I don't drink that much but I feel like I could be driven to it if relaxation comes with it. Especially on nights when a zombie almost eats me. I wasn't saying we scream to relax? Is that even relaxing?
I'm fond of black teas myself. Or anything with lemon. What is this for again? I've never heard of the place you mentioned but to be fair I'm new in town.
I've heard the sentiment before. Unfortunately, I am not known for my fun streak. Being driven to alcohol is the problem with it, isn't it? A few good numb nights, and suddenly its a dependency issue. Yes, you weren't saying screaming relaxes. It was a comparison for the harshness of alcohol. Some people may find something loud and drastic relaxes them, but I think it just tires them out. There are other ways to calm the bones and quiet the thoughts that are gentle on the body.
Black teas are an excellent choice. We've always got multiple on hand. It is the hot springs I run. One of those gentle relaxation alternatives I was talking about.
