[ Neuvillette nods in affirmation to go ahead, his shoulders relaxing somewhat as he feels the other man adjust his hair so it's over the blanket instead; now this is much better. The blanket doesn't completely ward off the cold, but it does keep the worst of it from biting through his clothes and makes him feel like it's no longer about to take up permanent residence in his bones and push his body into a state of hibernation. ]
All right. [ While Zhongli heads toward the door, Neuvillette steps into the kitchenette to see if there's a suitable knife that can be used to strike against the flint until sparks fly into the tinder; after pulling out nearly all of the drawers, he finds a small pocket knife. He gives it a quick examination for any visible signs of damage or wear and aside from some discolouration as an early sign of rust, it seems to be in good condition.
He returns to the fireplace and once Zhongli does the same, he takes the offered flint with a glint of appreciation in his eyes. ]
Again, thank you. This should do nicely. [ Now comes the difficult part, because he isn't used to lighting fires in this manner. Or lighting fires in general. Crouching, he holds the flint above the tinder with the sharpest edge toward the knife in his opposite hand. With a quick downward motion, he strikes the knife repeatedly—for a solid minute or so, nothing happens. But he keeps trying until he finally generates a viable spark that flies into the tinder and begins to eat the wood hungrily. ]
no subject
All right. [ While Zhongli heads toward the door, Neuvillette steps into the kitchenette to see if there's a suitable knife that can be used to strike against the flint until sparks fly into the tinder; after pulling out nearly all of the drawers, he finds a small pocket knife. He gives it a quick examination for any visible signs of damage or wear and aside from some discolouration as an early sign of rust, it seems to be in good condition.
He returns to the fireplace and once Zhongli does the same, he takes the offered flint with a glint of appreciation in his eyes. ]
Again, thank you. This should do nicely. [ Now comes the difficult part, because he isn't used to lighting fires in this manner. Or lighting fires in general. Crouching, he holds the flint above the tinder with the sharpest edge toward the knife in his opposite hand. With a quick downward motion, he strikes the knife repeatedly—for a solid minute or so, nothing happens. But he keeps trying until he finally generates a viable spark that flies into the tinder and begins to eat the wood hungrily. ]