exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: January ~~1st~~ 8th
Location: The Transporter building.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled through their initial briefings. Then... out into the cold?
Warnings: None.

Your arrival here has been very unceremonious. One second you were somewhere else, and now, very suddenly, your feet hit the glowing white of the Transporter pad, and you're here. You aren't alone, either. There's a crowd of others around you, each seeming just as bewildered, angry, or confused as you might feel. At the head of the group is a woman in purple robes, solemn and taciturn. She hurries over a quick overview of your intended purpose here, and gives direct answers when asked for them, but to most things she simply shows you how to access the tablet you've just been given, or tells you that the DITR's greeters will explain everything. On the tablet, you can find the history of this place and a record of what your new cohorts have experienced. You're guided through the armory and given a weapon, and though the armory is now greatly reduced, you should be able to find something to suit you.

You're currently in a large multi-roomed warehouse, graciously granted by the cagey and suspicious remains of the organization known as the Initiative. They don't know you or trust you, but they've given you leave to set up camp in one of the warmer corners of this building until you find a place of your own. And if you want to leave right now, step into the driving winter winds and never look back? Well, friend, you can be their guest.

Outside you'll find the wintery village of Exsilium, with most of its buildings permanently buried in snow and ice. There are tunnels underground to connect neighbor to neighbor to marketplace, and most of the people here use them, but you'll still see people braving the above ground weather here and there for a more direct route. They hardly glance at you, should you venture out among them — unless you don't look human. That hologram emitter the greeter pressed upon anyone non-human on arrival? Yeah, consider that very important to maintain good relations of any kind.

Welcome to the current reality of Exsilium.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why she's even out here in the first place is a mystery to her; she feels ill from last night's "activities", but the fear that someone she knows may show up is what had her dragging herself out of bed, getting dressed and forcing her way here.

But upon seeing Elrond she stops short with a slight frown. Not because he was an elf - she was mostly over that, for the most part. But it was because there was something about him that screamed "important elf" at her. Her mother's family was like that, she had spent enough time with her uncle and cousin to recognize how they carried themselves. And Elrond was similar to them.

Though that's as far as she gets. She's never really quite sure how elves of other worlds will take her, being the half-blood that she is.

Quite an important elf, though not the most important one of his kind. Just one of them. Elrond held himself to a slower pace, hands folded in front of him as he did his best to get more of a handle on the life of this world.

Something caught his attention, however, or, more precisely, someone. No one a glance told him he knew, though there was something that felt similar to his own kind. Curious...he raised a brow, though it was more curious as he tipped his head a little in wordless greeting as he started over to her.

As if to answer his silent curiousity, she pulls down the hood of her cloak and tucks some hair behind an ear - a pointed ear, smaller than an Elf's, but larger than a human's. It would be better to get that part out of the way first, but she can't help but feel nervous.

She purses her lips, as if she's gearing herself up to speak with him, before she moves to meet him, nodding a greeting as she gets close. She has no idea what the proper etiquette for any of this is; things long since forgotten from her childhood, but she can be polite, at the very least.

"Well met."

A confirmation of suspicion. Elrond smiled in welcome as he came within easy speaking range.

"Well met," he responded in his own elvish tongue. Perhaps it was curiosity that had him use his kin's language, to see if she knew that form. Or if she was from a world who's language was far different from his own.

He saw no reason to be rude here, be it another elf, or man or something else entirely. He had seen certain dwarves, but had yet to approach them.

The Elven throws her off, if only for a moment. She rarely spoke it here, aside from a few curses here and there. And it was a dialect that she knew, but not well; the one her uncle and cousin spoke. Which one served to confirm her suspicions that he was, at least, high elf - or the equivalent.

She responds in kind, but her Elvish sounds like a mix of different dialects, rather than just one. The tongue she grew up speaking. "I take it you've just arrived, sir?"

Different, and yet understandable. Rough, as if she wasn't used to speaking it. But it was still familiar, and pleasant to listen to for it's differences.

"Yes, just a little while ago. And yourself?" She did not strike him as exactly comfortable speaking elvish, though the reason was unknown and he saw no reason to delving into her mind for the answer.

It wasn't that she was uncomfortable, per say; just not used to it. At the very least, she seems to relax a little now that they've done greetings.

"I've been here for almost half a year," She answers. "I arrived in the summer." Is what she adds after; she can never be sure with elves, how they measure the passage of time. It threw her mother off at times, is all she can remember about it.

Only time would prove that to him, though her slight signs of relaxing began to tell him just that. Elrond didn't allow himself a chuckle at the addition, figuring why she may have added it.

"So it is winter here," he murmured, eyes turning away and studying their surroundings again. That explained the feel and the cold.

"Very much so." She can't help the tiniest of grins. If he hadn't been outside yet, then he'd learn very quickly that it was, in fact, the middle of winter.

After a moment, though, something occurs to her and she inclines her head, politely, in lieu of a bow. "But where are my manners; my name is Tempest. Might I ask your name?"

Mirth lit his eyes at that little grin and Elrond smiled, though it was muted in effort to remain 'dignified'. To a degree of course. "A stroll outside is not recommended, I assume."

He didn't mind the lack of a bow, they hardly knew each other. He responded in kind. "No harm was done. I am Elrond, the lord of Imladris." Just in case she knew of his home.

"Not without a coat or cloak - or both, if you get cold easily." She tugs at the edge of her own cloak. "There is a table inside providing them for free."

Imladris isn't a place she knows of, not does the name ring any familiarity with her; he must be an elf from another world. All the same, that explained why he reminded her of her uncle, a bit. "Ah. It's an honor, my lord."

All the more reason to keep his cloak close, though he figured he'd take a look at the kind available for the purposes of going out into the cold. "That is generous of those who brought us here."

He straightened, noting how the young half elf did not register the name. Meaning most certainly not from the world he knew. "As it is an honor to meet you."

"It is not them." She's quick to correct that. "It is the transports who organize it. There is cocoa and cookies as well."

She bites back her first few responses (mostly sarcastic, mostly at her expense) and nods instead. Safer that way, and it would be rude of her to anger someone on the first meeting. Sometimes she remember her manners. "I am afraid I am not familiar with - Imladris, you said? May I ask what it is?"

Then that made more sense, from all he'd seen up to that point. He inclined his head at the correction, not bothered. Cocoa and cookies? Perhaps there were Hobbits around as well. He'd have to look a bit closer for the halflings.

Elrond could easily see how she bit back words and was curious what had happened to make an elf tred so close to how dwarves tended to speak, unless he was simply making assumptions. He figured she did not think highly of herself at that. "Imladris is one of the last defences against the darkness of my world. A place of peace, learning, and rest for those who live there and those who visit."

"I see . . . " It's thoughtful, because there is no "darkness" threatening her world at present. Though maybe the Drow would count; ignoring that, though, her world was rather peaceful. "It sounds rather nice."

Throughout the conversation, though, he can't help but note the looks he gives her. Curious ones, at least, which is better than suspicious. She reaches up to push some hair away from her ear; it's pointed like an elf's, but smaller than Elrond's own. She gives him a wry look. "I apologize if I have been a bit impolite." She says in Common (English, as it's known here) "But you are the first Elven lord I have met, and I've not a clue as to how to talk to you properly."

Only when the darkness was utterly out of the hands of the elves would Elrond leave to return to the land of light. When they could do no more. Then Middle Earth would be left in the hands of those left behind.

Elrond had already seen the slightly pointed ear, it was why he'd even spoken in elvish to her. Her apology earns an amused little half-smile as he followed suit in switching to Common, a language he clearly had just as much ease in speaking as his own language.

"Speak naturally. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable," without reason. She was no dwarf. "If I might ask, who raised you, if not elven kind?"

Her Common is a fair bit more on the formal side, but it comes more from someone who learned it as a second language than anything else.

"I am half." She answers after a moment, and then waits another to gauge his reaction. It was always tricky, revealing what she was. She never knew what to expect. "My mother was elven, but my father was human."

No harsh reaction came from him, in fact, if anything, his amusement just increased a little. Though his smile was kind. "I see. My great-grandfather was human, with my great-grandmother an elf."

Making it clear he has no issue from her being half and half.

That was the absolute last thing she expected to hear. And it shows in her face, with how her eyes widen and her jaw works for a moment.

"Well." She manages after a moment. "That is—really?" She has to make sure she heard that right.

He could tell she was more surprised than suggesting he wasn't being truthful. Elrond allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "It is truth," his tone was light.

"There is nothing wrong about it." Though marrying a man was not what he wanted for his children, as they would still out live them and have to deal with the grief and waste away.

"I—oh, no, I am not saying there is anything wrong with it—" She's quick to correct herself she said something wrong. "It is just not something that is . . . welcome where I am from."

Her way of explaining why she has been a touch wary since they began talking.

Ah. Elrond inclined his head in accepting understanding. "You will receive no judgement from me purely on parentage, Tempest," he reassured. While he had chosen that of the long lived, he knew well the strength (and lack there of) of Men.

That's certainly a weight off her shoulders. "Thank you."

Now if she were half dwarf, he might have some words (more teasing than in earnest). "No thanks are necessary," he responded lightly.

There are, but she won't argue the point. She will, however, change the subject.

"If you've any questions about this place, I can do my best to answer them? I know the welcoming is a bit . . . " She makes a vague gesture in lieu of one of those modern curses she'd picked up in her time here. "And I could show you where the cloaks are being handed out."