She committed their names to memory and considered her answer. The correct answer was 'yes', but she wasn't sure if it was the one she wanted to give just yet. She made a decision, "Yes," she said simply, then looked to Ryder, "I didn't kill him," she inclined her head to the dead scientist.
She had asked the question he had been dreading. He never knew how to answer it - he could say the place he was supposed to be from, but he had never really picked a specific region. Ryder Salvai was supposed to be from a small farm in the middle of nowhere, with a brother and sister that had been killed at the hands of Notch.
But if the girl was anything like Lasan and his boyfriend, she wasn't even from his world.
"I'm from Minecraftia," he said. He gestured over at Lasan. "He's from a world called Fayne. Are you from either one of them?"
"Oh!" Lasan said, making it to the bottom of the stairs. "I took my boyfriend's, so my surname is Cinis."
He glanced up at the gray sky. "And, uh, sorry for breaking the hatch. We might have to get out of here when the next storm comes."
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse a persona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero, senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
"Does running away and hiding count as a plan?" Lasan said. He could hide a smile easily enough; however, in the silence that settled on them, he knew that Briar knew he wasn't really joking. He sighed. "We could always head back to my bunker, if worst comes to worst - it should be pretty safe and secure."
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse a persona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero, senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Briar nodded along, making adjustments to her own plan with the new information, "The bones from him," she gestured to the corpse, "could be used as weapons. I have reason to believe that we aren't alone here." The firelight flickered just then to momentarily dispell the shadows in her lap, where her hands were folded neatly over a very-real gun.
Lasan seemed to be primarily a healer, and Briar had a gun. Though Briar didn't know it, the only person would theoretically need a weapon was Ryder Salvai.
And Ryder wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of using someone's bones as a weapon.
"I'll come up with something else," Ryder said, giving the skeleton one last look before turning to Briar again. "I don't know what happened to that person or who they were before they died, but the least we can do for them is let them rest."
An idea came to him. Wandering over the crates, he eyed one that felt slightly less full than the others - and one that Briar wasn't sitting on. He grabbed on of its top boards and gave it a strong tug, the wood beginning to crack underneath the pressure. He pressed his foot up against the crate's side, tugged some more, and smiled when he heard a satisfactory snapping sound as the board broke off.
"There," he said, holding it up so Briar could get a good look at it. "I have a weapon."
She examined his new 'weapon' from afar at first, then got up and tucked her gun into the back of her jeans, "It's not as sturdy," she said, "What forms of weapon are you most accustomed to?" She held out her hands for the 'weapon' so she could examine it more closely.
"A sword," he lied, handing the makeshift weapon over to her. "But I'm good at getting creative." That part, thankfully, was true - the newer members of his resistance were regularly stunned by his ability to pick up new weapons.
She tested the weight in her hands. It was far too light to be matched with any kind of sword, but she supposed that if someone was good at getting creative, as Ryder claimed to be, that wouldn't be a problem. She looked him over again, her eyes seemingly able to see right into his thoughts, "What kind of sword?" She handed it back to him.
He took the piece of wood back, awkwardly holding it at his side as he tried to come up with a good place to keep it for now. "An iron sword," he said. The weight was more than a little off, but he could manage.
