CHARACTERS: Misato + Gildor, Sam, Lakshmi, Seconds and others! WHERE: The Graze, Hyrypia WHEN: DAY 16-18 SUMMARY: Various starters for various attempts at winning this intergalactic scavenger hunt! WARNINGS: Bad decisions all around.
[ By most prevailing logic, it's a certifiably bad idea to take off into the night toward a lethal barrier with someone she nearly skewered to death only a handful of days ago. Revenge is as good a motive as any, and banking on Gildor liking her enough to look out for her when things inevitably turn sour is the definition of testing fate, which is conveniently her modus operandi through life. And so, test fate she will.
Knife stowed against her right hip and a loaded gun to her left, she sets off ready into the night, and they stop just far enough not to arouse the guard's suspicion (yet). She places an intruding hand on the small of his back by way of announcing her presence, taking undue license in touching him because of his blindness. ]
Anything?
[ Besides, that she has very nearly killed him and he still sought to bet on her success is enough to keep them linked, for better or worse. She finds that a better gauge than mere affinity. ]
[ Deciding to leave their separate tents at separate times isn't quite what Gildor had in mind. Taking a leisurely midnight stroll is only a halfway decent cover, so he'll save it for when they're caught. If they're caught. How they meet hardly matters now, as Misato comes up beside where he's crouching near a rock. The hand to his back is not unwelcome but not needed either - he can feel her approach and rightfully assumes her identity. Those same footsteps that ran frantically towards him after accidentally hurling a spear at him.
Fate has a funny way of bringing people together to do insane things. As if waking up to a hivemind in another universe wasn't humorous or insane enough, they're adding this to the mix.
He has his staff with him. As conspicuous as it makes him, he couldn't leave it behind. It makes reading the vibrations in the earth easier and he uses it now to make a few, tapping against the rock and ground. ]
No. I can't feel that far ahead.
[ If anyone spots the guards spotting them, it will be Misato. He's counting on her eyes to tell him when they're being watched or followed or ignored. If the guards are close enough to be within his range of awareness, they're already caught. ]
I've been thinking of how to slip past them together, and we have a few options. I'd like your opinion first.
[ He holds up a gloved finger. ] One. I enchant a rock with a spell for you. When you're ready, you will roll or throw it discreetly as possible towards the guards without hitting them. It will unleash a dome of shadow around them for a few minutes, though I imagine you'll only have a few seconds to move before they stumble their way out of the dome. Although if it's dark enough by now they may hardly notice. [ He shrugs - he can't really tell how dark it is, but he's hoping it's dark. It will make the second part of plan one easier on him. ] I will shadow-walk to meet you beyond the fence and assist you over it.
[ He holds up another finger. ] Two. I cast darkness over us both and we slip past the guards under the same dome of shadow. You will not be able to see, so I'll have to guide us both in the direction of the barrier, which may take some time. That and the guards might notice a black shape moving, though again that depends on how dark it is. If we make it to the fence unnoticed I will then shadow-walk past it and assist you over, if you need.
[ There's no third plan for if they're caught. None solid enough to bring up, at least. ]
Edited (stop the abuse of commas) 2017-09-19 06:02 (UTC)
[ Straight to business, the way she likes it, when she had sharpened her red-tape cutting skills before setting out in case the priest-musician thinks it fitting to unleash a sermon fitting his cover. No such thing here, which prompts her to let out a huff, both relieved and impressed.
It's dark enough, for one, and so far their presence remains unnoticed, though she has a feeling that the Rabadoceans may have better eyesight and range of view than herself. Just because she doesn't see them, doesn't mean they don't see her. Likewise, casting darkness over them when they were seeing perfectly before sounds too much like ringing the alarm bell to announce their presence. She takes little time to decide, barely a beat after he finishes his explanation: ]
The second. I'll bring us far enough from the nearest guards so we won't catch their eye, then you do your thing.
[ Concerning herself with getting caught is unnecessary, because contingencies only exist in situations where there is any other outcome than victory or annihilation. Such situations are inconceivable to her. ]
[ He has a feeling he'll be sleeping well into the next morning after this, if they make it through their little expedition and he's granted the luxury.
Misato decides quickly - a darkness spell on the two of them it is. He has more than a few spells in mind for tonight, and to cast them he's brought an the instrument borrowed from the Collector - a miniature Carabouchian zinther. His violin would yield stronger magic, but if they are caught he'd rather it not be damaged or taken, (sorry Collector) so zinther it is. He pulls it from his robes and readies his hands- ]
Once this is cast we'll have roughly twenty minutes to find the fence. Memorize it's direction now if you can.
[ -because when he begins to play, softly to not be overheard, Misato will be as blind as him inside a circle of magical pitch black. The cover materializes in a matter of seconds, the space around them going darker and darker as he plays a quick tune. When he stops, he shifts the instrument back into his robes and picks up his staff. ]
Can you see anything?
[ He's hoping for a no to affirm the spell went off without a hitch. ]
[ Misato doesn't deal in hard numbers or detailed instructions. Hers is method based on instinct, measuring the trajectory and the distance from where they stand to where the fence stretches with nothing but a glance, all while gauging the field of vision that the guards in the distance might have. If asked, she wouldn't know how to explain it, which makes it difficult to convince others that yes, yes, she has memorized it in the seconds it takes for him to tell her so before beginning his spell.
What she fails to expect is the sheer potency of this magical darkness. Like an accelerated sunset, a dimmer gone rogue, and she reaches to grab him by the arm before it turns pitch black. Her mind may be quieter, better guarded, than many of the younger Hosts, but now its perforated walls betray just the sharpest surges of panic, a deafening ring in one's ears, a sudden drop in one's stomach when the ground gives way. Her breath audibly quickens, and her body tenses as one bracing for a fall. But she neither basks in the fear nor represses it, instead there is a sense of her shifting the very pillars of her mind, a realignment of her emotions that they might sharpen her focus rather than defeat her. She opts to speak to his mind for the sake of silence, and also to impress this point of purpose in her mind onto his. ]
(This way.)
[ She's still afraid of course, that much is hard to deny, but it is also her fear that heightens her senses to notice every detail of her surroundings, and fear makes a good enough substitute for excitement, for ambition. ]
[ He takes her lack of an answer for an affirmative, and the spike in her pulse for nerves - though none of it is detectable in her mental tone of voice, well shielded or... just confused with his own nerves. She grabs him by the arm, a little tighter than he's pleased with, and he reaches out with a steady reminder- ]
(Remember, if caught, we were simply sleepless and searching for spiritual guidance in the night, and it's my fault for getting us lost.)
[ Armed with that excuse they proceed, blind leading the blind. Gildor has his sixth sense to lead them, though he finds Misato's confidence contagious and habitually falls into step with her. He'll keep them from bumping into anything within his range of awareness, but only if it becomes necessary...
And so far it doesn't - she's calculated the distance well. After a few minutes of walking in silent darkness, Gildor begins to feel the edges of the fence sticking up through the earth. ]
(Just ahead, about twenty more feet. Tell me when to drop the spell.)
[ He'll let her determine where is a good place to climb over, out of range of the guard's sight. ]
[ Sounds conveyed by thought alone carry with it far more than just intonation, as stripped bare of its physicality as it is weighed with the implied meaning and attached sentiment. She laughs at his reminder, an exceedingly proud one, carrying with it every part and parcel of defiance against the idea of a higher power let alone the thought that she might be one to seek advice using such means. It's exaggerated in the face of her bone-deep fear. Someone overcompensating for her weakness with aggrandized bravado. ]
(Okay, your fault. That's fitting anyway when you're supposed to be giving me spiritual mojo.)
[ Becoming lost is the only outcome that can be expected. Her skepticism has little to do with Gildor and everything to do with her hatred of superstition. She would loathe to entertain the possibility of her failures and successes being attributable to anything beyond her own effort to keep walking now despite the stiffness in her muscles, or the way her heart threatens to give up should it beat any faster. See, here, what god is helping her now?
A handful of feet away from the fence, she places a hand in front of his chest to stop him, staring through the darkness around them to spot any lingering guards. ]
[ He halts with that hand to his chest, and eases his concentration on maintaining the spell. Not enough to let it fade entirely and expose their cover and position, but enough to hopefully allow Misato some use of her eyesight. ]
( Alright. Up you go then. )
[ He finds the base of the fence and kneels, expecting her to use his shoulders as a boost up. Sneaking is one thing, but climbing - she'll have to do that the old-fashioned way. ]
[ Misato doesn't take to his kneeling naturally, responding with a mix of alarm and puzzlement at seeing him play gallant where that has usually been the space she occupies. It lasts but a moment before she allows a chuckle through link, too giddy still from the adrenaline, and accepts his offer by very gently using his shoulders as a stepping off point to reach a higher bar on the fence with enough athleticism to prove her claim of being a military woman.
She sits at the top of it and secures herself with a foot between the bars before reaching down to offer him a hand. He can't see it, she knows, but thinks she can send him the impression of it through their minds. It's the potential of the movement he must make to find her hand and how she would help pull him up. ]
[ Misato knows the value of letting time heal some hurts, let anger cool lest a stray word spark it back to burning, and besides, she has been occupied. Now it's about time to set all that aside.
She goes to find him without ceremony, trusting in her instinct to sense where he might be, the ebb and flow of the other Hosts is like a fetid swamp of unwelcome thoughts and emotions that she must wade through to tease out threads that she can name, some of it her own, her broodmates', or his. Barring that, she would peek into every single one of the tents with little regard for privacy until she finds him, by skill or persistence alone, in the last place she checks. Whether or not he seems occupied is irrelevant. ]
Got a minute?
[ It's high noon, with nothing to plan for the day but more feasting and talking, more thinly veiled negotiations between factions. She is dressed ready for a ride on the Elin, by way of an alibi, fully expecting him to join her. ]
[ Misato's not the only one who's been occupied, or giving things time to settle, though in Sam's case it's more confusion than anything else. And they're gonna have to talk, eventually - Sam wouldn't be himself if he didn't want to try to figure out what the hell had happened there - but a mission like this isn't the time for that unless it's forced.
Them all getting out of this alive is way more important.
Which is why he finishes putting his disguise on as soon as he feels her searching for him, heading out to meet her. ]
[ For her part, she has never felt so certain of her place since first arriving here into the symbiote. She has never felt so sure of where she must go and what she must do to achieve it, all things aligning to spotlight the road ahead. Her certitude shows in the way she stands and the way she walks and the way she laughs, easily, fearlessly, at his words. She can guess at what bothers him, when he's so unlike her, he who assigns such weight to civil relations. ]
Okay. Well, I'm ready for an inquisition.
[ And ready for a ride. She gestures for him to follow her so they can head out toward the stables, hopefully sweet-talk the guards for a casual round with the Elins. ]
[ Sam can't help but smile a little when she laughs, and there's even a hint of humor to it. They may be a hell of a lot more different than similar, but he can guess where her train of thought's going - and he's missed her. He's missed the push and pull of her thoughts against his, missed the way she challenges him and makes them think, the way he tries to do it back.
His mind curls around hers, not necessarily seeking entrance so much as just settling against it. He may not have sought her out - but he never shut her out, either, never worked to create distance between them or put up more shields.
They're out among the other envoys, now, so Sam switches to the mental link, keeping the conversation between them. ]
(We're good, Misato. All that back there, anything it might've brought up - it ain't my priority right now. This mission, bringing us all back alive, that is.) [ He glances over at her. ] (Unless you got pressing matters.)
[ If she could pick one word to describe him, it would be acceptance, though she would loathe to attach unconditional to it. Almost. She thinks a parent should act so toward their children, steadfastly love and care for them without prerequisite, even when they do wrong, that is, especially when they stumble. But to know what should be and what is good, doesn't mean she knows how to want it. ]
(There are always pressing matters.) [ Spoken another way, everything is a pressing matter when one lives such precarious lives as theirs. The smile she returns says as much. ] (You've been compiling information, right? Where's it all pointing to?)
[ And, of course, she keeps up the other side of their conversation. Just two colleagues having a stroll on a light day of work. ]
We're going riding. I don't have to worry about you getting trampled, right?
[ No, it's certainly not unconditional. Sam does his best not to judge, mostly, because who the hell is he to make those kind of judgments on people. Especially because it'd be hypocritical, in most cases, with the journey he's been through. But that doesn't mean he's not gonna make his opinion known, and he's got lines, too.
Misato just hasn't crossed them yet, and honestly, he doesn't think she ever will. ]
(I've been compiling it - but hell if I can see where it's all pointing to. You wanna see? Or I can give you the cliffnotes version.)
[ There's certain benefits to being able to share memories and knowledge - it means she'll have the information like she was right there getting it, though he's also not opposed with summarizing.
The question she asks outloud gets a laugh. ]
It's been at least two days since I fell off, I think we should be fine.
[ She laughs too. How easy it is to fall into old routines. Pretense is the grease that keeps human interactions turning, isn't it? Isn't it. They say many words about nothing to avoid accidentally saying something. Both the banter and her focus on work are only different ways of avoiding the elephant in the room. ]
I'll catch you.
[ Coupled with a wink too. ]
(The cliffnotes version will do. Speaking of -- Lexa talked to me about the Seconds recently, has she reached out to you too?)
[ There's laughter in his voice, the kind that doesn't come from faking something or putting on a show. Or at least, it doesn't when it's Sam. He's always had a hard time when he's not being at least a little bit genuine.
The rest of it, all the stuff between them and what's going on with some of the others in the Nest, everything they're avoiding - there'll be a time for it later. ]
(Yeah, she did - that's why I've been trying to make friends with some of them. I'm guessing she talked to you about finding out more about the Nectar?)
[ Strange how prosaic it feels to be meeting an alien delegate on an alien planet to talk about a kind of magic. Only change the scenery a little: swap the tent for an air conditioned room, the off-colored notes for yellow lined paper and the aliens for humans, and she might as well be sitting in on yet another meeting between fellow bureaucrats. United Nations. NERV. Japanese defense ministry. The faces matter as little as the topic, when what matters is that what must be said is said, and that the required meeting is convened. A charade of civility.
Well, one should think that she has every reason to manage her expectations, to which she does the opposite, assigning the highest hopes for this meeting, that it would help her discard her prejudice against the activity once and for all and, of course, leave them in no doubt about the Seconds.
Misato is as eager as can be, the extent of her enthusiasm apparent from the way she keeps glancing at Lakshmi while her impatient pen taps against her knee in a steady staccato while waiting for everyone to settle into their seats. Not a moment too soon: ]
Why don't we start from the very beginning? Maybe, when you were born?
[The tent clearly isn't the one in which the Seconds have been living - it's small, furnished with a low table and a variety of cushions embroidered with lush geometric patterns, and one of the sides has been rolled up in it's entirety so the Seconds might look down into the prospective competition field from a more comfortable position. A brazier in the corner goes unlit.
On the reverse side of the table from Misato, Kelradia balances a long shallow case on her knee. The Second pops the latch on the case with a clink of the small metal disks stitched into the hems of her sleeves. She removes three black stone cups from the case, secures the latch and slides the case back under the table alongside its twin.]
Oh, that's very far back indeed. And I can't say I remember much of it.
[Laughing, Kelradia takes up the heavy silvered pot from the center of the table and fills all three glasses with a nearly clear liquid. With the sun catching the metal wound into her two thick black braids and delicately strung headpiece, Kelradia doles the three cups between them without the help of the silent servant standing just there at tent's pole behind her.]
But certainly. My family have been primarily listle divers and weavers along the Meridian Sea for generations. When I was a little thing, I helped my grandmother shuck shells and thread needles.
[It's difficult to tell under all the ornamentation, but it's clear Kelradia is fairly young - and given the relative pared down embroidery on her sleeves, is either not so far removed from being a simple acolyte or simple in her preferences. Either way, she's hardly the filigreed matron Second who had led the ceremony way back in Naerstone's gardens. Perhaps the Carbauschian delegation simply doesn't warrant more significant attention.]
But I can't imagine that's really what you want to talk about. Unless of course you're looking to commission listleweave, in which case I know some very reliable crafters.
[Ha ha. We make jokes here.]
I would say I turned up late with starbucks but australia barely has starbucks
[ By contrast, Lakshmi expresses nothing physically out of herself. Each movement lightly poised, not her - but that of a Queen, lightly moving her hands, dignified restain that in the gold bangles that sit on her wrists, the layered material that sits heavy at her wrists, over gloves her own embroidered work of loose formed lotuses. Chiming as she settles her hands in front of her. ]
(Flattery is tried and true, I suppose. )
[ The fingers beckon in appreciation, curling one, two, three in dancer's poise into themselves the set of rings that sit link looped in chains swaying with it. ] Not at all - our interests lay diverse, and it is good to know that... such affection goes into the crafting. We may just come calling -
But -- [ she turns, the hang of her veils low still. To that, she animates the movements slightly, given that lack of being able to read expression - to put the fire. ] -- I believe my... companion has another question for you?
[ Lakshmi can play the dignified diplomat role for the both of them, with Misato maintaining her monopoly on the relentless questioning, a steady march forward with no regard for finesse or courtesy.
She had introduced herself as some sort of a defense adviser, trained in the ways of repelling enemies but not in making friends, which suits her just as well. One charms, the other takes. She allows her own hesitance to show when her companion steps into the dance of words, returning the feigned gesture of humility with flattery. She can be the brute for the both of them, but a leashed one, for now, leaning back after taking the offered cup, patiently waiting for her turn to speak again.
She fires as soon as the signal is given. ]
How were you chosen to become a Second? What was that like for you, your family? Did your grandmother approve?
[Kelradia wraps her hands around the cup, but doesn't drink from it.]
I'm not sure chosen is really the right way of it. It makes it sound like being of the House of Seconds is something I was given by the House. No, when my family realized I was blessed with the ability I was immediately surrendered to it. [She doesn't sound upset by it. Or delighted. This simply is the way of things.] I have always been of the House of Seconds - I just didn't know it as a child. That's understood by everyone.
[Adolescents become either farana or sarana. Seconds come from every place under the single red sun. This is how the world is.]
[ Misato obediently, trustingly begin to take tiny sips of her cup while Kelradia and Lakshmi speak, trying her best to fit in among cultured people and not yet seeing the value in deceit by sowing disappointment. The hardest part is fighting back the urge for directness at the cost of courtesy, it shows from the hesitant pause she allows following the other Host's question, before she jumps in after. ]
And how did you find out -- that you were blessed with the ability?
[Does she find the work fulfilling? The question seems to surprise her. Kelradia smiles, a bright and cheerfully genuine quality to her countenance.]
I like it, yes. I like making things, and besides it's afforded me more opportunities than my family's trade might. Not that it isn't respectable, but this affords me idle time to fill how I like.
[Hobbies. What a privilege.
To Misato--] My aunts caught me eating chalk. [Ha ha. Cue one shit-eating grin, which she quickly modifies to explain:] The late recognition of nectar-sensitive abilities sometimes results in strange side effects. Visual disturbances and vertigo are common, but sometimes you get an appetite for odd things. They took me to a doctor who recommended having me tested.
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[ for gildor ]
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Fate has a funny way of bringing people together to do insane things. As if waking up to a hivemind in another universe wasn't humorous or insane enough, they're adding this to the mix.
He has his staff with him. As conspicuous as it makes him, he couldn't leave it behind. It makes reading the vibrations in the earth easier and he uses it now to make a few, tapping against the rock and ground. ]
No. I can't feel that far ahead.
[ If anyone spots the guards spotting them, it will be Misato. He's counting on her eyes to tell him when they're being watched or followed or ignored. If the guards are close enough to be within his range of awareness, they're already caught. ]
I've been thinking of how to slip past them together, and we have a few options. I'd like your opinion first.
[ He holds up a gloved finger. ] One. I enchant a rock with a spell for you. When you're ready, you will roll or throw it discreetly as possible towards the guards without hitting them. It will unleash a dome of shadow around them for a few minutes, though I imagine you'll only have a few seconds to move before they stumble their way out of the dome. Although if it's dark enough by now they may hardly notice. [ He shrugs - he can't really tell how dark it is, but he's hoping it's dark. It will make the second part of plan one easier on him. ] I will shadow-walk to meet you beyond the fence and assist you over it.
[ He holds up another finger. ] Two. I cast darkness over us both and we slip past the guards under the same dome of shadow. You will not be able to see, so I'll have to guide us both in the direction of the barrier, which may take some time. That and the guards might notice a black shape moving, though again that depends on how dark it is. If we make it to the fence unnoticed I will then shadow-walk past it and assist you over, if you need.
[ There's no third plan for if they're caught. None solid enough to bring up, at least. ]
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It's dark enough, for one, and so far their presence remains unnoticed, though she has a feeling that the Rabadoceans may have better eyesight and range of view than herself. Just because she doesn't see them, doesn't mean they don't see her. Likewise, casting darkness over them when they were seeing perfectly before sounds too much like ringing the alarm bell to announce their presence. She takes little time to decide, barely a beat after he finishes his explanation: ]
The second. I'll bring us far enough from the nearest guards so we won't catch their eye, then you do your thing.
[ Concerning herself with getting caught is unnecessary, because contingencies only exist in situations where there is any other outcome than victory or annihilation. Such situations are inconceivable to her. ]
What does it cost you to do these things?
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[ He has a feeling he'll be sleeping well into the next morning after this, if they make it through their little expedition and he's granted the luxury.
Misato decides quickly - a darkness spell on the two of them it is. He has more than a few spells in mind for tonight, and to cast them he's brought an the instrument borrowed from the Collector - a miniature Carabouchian zinther. His violin would yield stronger magic, but if they are caught he'd rather it not be damaged or taken, (sorry Collector) so zinther it is. He pulls it from his robes and readies his hands- ]
Once this is cast we'll have roughly twenty minutes to find the fence. Memorize it's direction now if you can.
[ -because when he begins to play, softly to not be overheard, Misato will be as blind as him inside a circle of magical pitch black. The cover materializes in a matter of seconds, the space around them going darker and darker as he plays a quick tune. When he stops, he shifts the instrument back into his robes and picks up his staff. ]
Can you see anything?
[ He's hoping for a no to affirm the spell went off without a hitch. ]
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What she fails to expect is the sheer potency of this magical darkness. Like an accelerated sunset, a dimmer gone rogue, and she reaches to grab him by the arm before it turns pitch black. Her mind may be quieter, better guarded, than many of the younger Hosts, but now its perforated walls betray just the sharpest surges of panic, a deafening ring in one's ears, a sudden drop in one's stomach when the ground gives way. Her breath audibly quickens, and her body tenses as one bracing for a fall. But she neither basks in the fear nor represses it, instead there is a sense of her shifting the very pillars of her mind, a realignment of her emotions that they might sharpen her focus rather than defeat her. She opts to speak to his mind for the sake of silence, and also to impress this point of purpose in her mind onto his. ]
( This way. )
[ She's still afraid of course, that much is hard to deny, but it is also her fear that heightens her senses to notice every detail of her surroundings, and fear makes a good enough substitute for excitement, for ambition. ]
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(Remember, if caught, we were simply sleepless and searching for spiritual guidance in the night, and it's my fault for getting us lost.)
[ Armed with that excuse they proceed, blind leading the blind. Gildor has his sixth sense to lead them, though he finds Misato's confidence contagious and habitually falls into step with her. He'll keep them from bumping into anything within his range of awareness, but only if it becomes necessary...
And so far it doesn't - she's calculated the distance well. After a few minutes of walking in silent darkness, Gildor begins to feel the edges of the fence sticking up through the earth. ]
(Just ahead, about twenty more feet. Tell me when to drop the spell.)
[ He'll let her determine where is a good place to climb over, out of range of the guard's sight. ]
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( Okay, your fault. That's fitting anyway when you're supposed to be giving me spiritual mojo. )
[ Becoming lost is the only outcome that can be expected. Her skepticism has little to do with Gildor and everything to do with her hatred of superstition. She would loathe to entertain the possibility of her failures and successes being attributable to anything beyond her own effort to keep walking now despite the stiffness in her muscles, or the way her heart threatens to give up should it beat any faster. See, here, what god is helping her now?
A handful of feet away from the fence, she places a hand in front of his chest to stop him, staring through the darkness around them to spot any lingering guards. ]
( Here. Here should be good. )
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( Alright. Up you go then. )
[ He finds the base of the fence and kneels, expecting her to use his shoulders as a boost up. Sneaking is one thing, but climbing - she'll have to do that the old-fashioned way. ]
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She sits at the top of it and secures herself with a foot between the bars before reaching down to offer him a hand. He can't see it, she knows, but thinks she can send him the impression of it through their minds. It's the potential of the movement he must make to find her hand and how she would help pull him up. ]
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[ for sam ]
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Them all getting out of this alive is way more important.
Which is why he finishes putting his disguise on as soon as he feels her searching for him, heading out to meet her. ]
Yeah, of course. We need to catch up, anyway.
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Okay. Well, I'm ready for an inquisition.
[ And ready for a ride. She gestures for him to follow her so they can head out toward the stables, hopefully sweet-talk the guards for a casual round with the Elins. ]
Shoot.
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His mind curls around hers, not necessarily seeking entrance so much as just settling against it. He may not have sought her out - but he never shut her out, either, never worked to create distance between them or put up more shields.
They're out among the other envoys, now, so Sam switches to the mental link, keeping the conversation between them. ]
( We're good, Misato. All that back there, anything it might've brought up - it ain't my priority right now. This mission, bringing us all back alive, that is. ) [ He glances over at her. ] ( Unless you got pressing matters. )
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( There are always pressing matters. ) [ Spoken another way, everything is a pressing matter when one lives such precarious lives as theirs. The smile she returns says as much. ] ( You've been compiling information, right? Where's it all pointing to? )
[ And, of course, she keeps up the other side of their conversation. Just two colleagues having a stroll on a light day of work. ]
We're going riding. I don't have to worry about you getting trampled, right?
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Misato just hasn't crossed them yet, and honestly, he doesn't think she ever will. ]
( I've been compiling it - but hell if I can see where it's all pointing to. You wanna see? Or I can give you the cliffnotes version. )
[ There's certain benefits to being able to share memories and knowledge - it means she'll have the information like she was right there getting it, though he's also not opposed with summarizing.
The question she asks outloud gets a laugh. ]
It's been at least two days since I fell off, I think we should be fine.
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I'll catch you.
[ Coupled with a wink too. ]
( The cliffnotes version will do. Speaking of -- Lexa talked to me about the Seconds recently, has she reached out to you too? )
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[ There's laughter in his voice, the kind that doesn't come from faking something or putting on a show. Or at least, it doesn't when it's Sam. He's always had a hard time when he's not being at least a little bit genuine.
The rest of it, all the stuff between them and what's going on with some of the others in the Nest, everything they're avoiding - there'll be a time for it later. ]
( Yeah, she did - that's why I've been trying to make friends with some of them. I'm guessing she talked to you about finding out more about the Nectar? )
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[ for lakshmi + seconds ]
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On the reverse side of the table from Misato, Kelradia balances a long shallow case on her knee. The Second pops the latch on the case with a clink of the small metal disks stitched into the hems of her sleeves. She removes three black stone cups from the case, secures the latch and slides the case back under the table alongside its twin.]
Oh, that's very far back indeed. And I can't say I remember much of it.
[Laughing, Kelradia takes up the heavy silvered pot from the center of the table and fills all three glasses with a nearly clear liquid. With the sun catching the metal wound into her two thick black braids and delicately strung headpiece, Kelradia doles the three cups between them without the help of the silent servant standing just there at tent's pole behind her.]
But certainly. My family have been primarily listle divers and weavers along the Meridian Sea for generations. When I was a little thing, I helped my grandmother shuck shells and thread needles.
[It's difficult to tell under all the ornamentation, but it's clear Kelradia is fairly young - and given the relative pared down embroidery on her sleeves, is either not so far removed from being a simple acolyte or simple in her preferences. Either way, she's hardly the filigreed matron Second who had led the ceremony way back in Naerstone's gardens. Perhaps the Carbauschian delegation simply doesn't warrant more significant attention.]
But I can't imagine that's really what you want to talk about. Unless of course you're looking to commission listleweave, in which case I know some very reliable crafters.
[Ha ha. We make jokes here.]
I would say I turned up late with starbucks but australia barely has starbucks
(Flattery is tried and true, I suppose. )
[ The fingers beckon in appreciation, curling one, two, three in dancer's poise into themselves the set of rings that sit link looped in chains swaying with it. ] Not at all - our interests lay diverse, and it is good to know that... such affection goes into the crafting. We may just come calling -
But -- [ she turns, the hang of her veils low still. To that, she animates the movements slightly, given that lack of being able to read expression - to put the fire. ] -- I believe my... companion has another question for you?
late with gloria jean's
She had introduced herself as some sort of a defense adviser, trained in the ways of repelling enemies but not in making friends, which suits her just as well. One charms, the other takes. She allows her own hesitance to show when her companion steps into the dance of words, returning the feigned gesture of humility with flattery. She can be the brute for the both of them, but a leashed one, for now, leaning back after taking the offered cup, patiently waiting for her turn to speak again.
She fires as soon as the signal is given. ]
How were you chosen to become a Second? What was that like for you, your family? Did your grandmother approve?
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I'm not sure chosen is really the right way of it. It makes it sound like being of the House of Seconds is something I was given by the House. No, when my family realized I was blessed with the ability I was immediately surrendered to it. [She doesn't sound upset by it. Or delighted. This simply is the way of things.] I have always been of the House of Seconds - I just didn't know it as a child. That's understood by everyone.
[Adolescents become either farana or sarana. Seconds come from every place under the single red sun. This is how the world is.]
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So you simply were it, and it was a matter of time until it was recognised? [ A pause, another feigned longer consideration of weighing. ]
Do you find such your work... fulfilling?
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And how did you find out -- that you were blessed with the ability?
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I like it, yes. I like making things, and besides it's afforded me more opportunities than my family's trade might. Not that it isn't respectable, but this affords me idle time to fill how I like.
[Hobbies. What a privilege.
To Misato--] My aunts caught me eating chalk. [Ha ha. Cue one shit-eating grin, which she quickly modifies to explain:] The late recognition of nectar-sensitive abilities sometimes results in strange side effects. Visual disturbances and vertigo are common, but sometimes you get an appetite for odd things. They took me to a doctor who recommended having me tested.
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