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Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then you've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

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[ He doesn't miss those tattoos, and he wonders only briefly if they mean the same thing in other worlds that they do in Wyander. Of course, there are always the fashionable tattoos, but solemn men in suits usually only wear them for one reason.

One reason that doesn't much concern Vanadi. He only shakes, smiling as ever. ]

No, no. Only handsome strangers get the umbrella treatment, I assure you!

[ If he'd caught the insult, it doesn't bother him in the slightest. ]

[ Handsome. Now that's a word Nikolai doesn't hear used to describe him very often. Most people don't linger on his face long enough to see it, and those who do see his face tend to not pay such compliments.

You see, no one wants to be a fucking queer. But it seems that he is talking to a fucking queer. Nikolai's lips quirk upwards, and he's amused all over again. This place, it looks like London, but it clearly isn't. ]

Would give back compliment, but I cannot see your face. [ His fingertips tap, very, very slightly, against the tip of Vanadi's mask again. ] May be better, because I am not a [ irony, irony, irony: ] fucking queer.

[ Pause. He cocks his head. Lets his finger slide very slowly down the tip of Vanadi's mask. ]

You always honest, Vanadi?

[ Now, this is an interesting development. Oh, he's seen plenty of men utterly against the idea of a man flirting with them, that's nothing new at all. But not many of them would call him a fucking queer while tracing suggestive patterns against his mask. ]

That is rather lucky, then, isn't it? Why, once glimpse at my beautiful face could very well weaken that heterosexual resolve.

[ He grins widely under the mask, amused at the question. Amused enough not to lie about lying, even. Although of course he never says anything plainly, and certainly not this, but he has the idea that this man will realize that. ]

Me? My friend, I've never told a lie in my entire life.

[ Nikolai is a cipher. He likes confusing people. Makes them uncertain about how to deal with him. Once someone is uncertain, then they don't notice if he changes, shifts, and he can be whatever he wants to be. It's a really useful skill.

But when he laughs it's from Vanadi's words, because it's so blatantly false. ]

Either you tell truth, or you lying, and if you lying you always lie, then that is form of truth itself. [ He tips his head slightly. ] Very clever.

[ His hand comes back to the mask. Makes a small circle around the very tip. ]

You wear mask to be polite?

[ Well, now this is beginning to seem downright phallic. Not that Vanadi minds, of course. He only smiles under the mask, head tipping invitingly. ]

We're a very modest people, we kitrites. Showing off a face in public takes a rather special occasion!

[ God, how does he get away with lying so much? If any other kitrites ever show up, that one is right out. ]

Kitrites. [ Headtilt. ] Strange word. You fit it as well, being strange?

[ The mask seems the strangest thing about him, but then again, Nikolai knows nothing of this world and its inhabitants just yet. He doesn't know its rules. It's strange, but he's gone through this before, with that city without a sun. He'll manage. He'll survive.

He always does, da? ]

I always have. Being surrounded by humans is certainly no reason to change that.

[ He is a very competent social butterfly, thanks. His amusingly odd new human friend will just have to see that for himself, though. There's no use just telling people you're popular. ]

Now, where is it you were headed?

[ Humans. Nikolai laughs. ]

I was thinking, kitrites is name of country. [ It's plausible enough to sound like one. ] But instead new species, da? Species so ugly you have to wear mask to hide your face?

[ Pause. He shrugs. ]

Headed nowhere.

Oh, my dear, you're going to hurt my feelings. Who's to say we don't wear masks to keep our beautiful, delicate frames out of the grubbing hands of humans, hmm?

[ That with a playful grin, a nudge of elbow at the man's side. ]

I would say that you're headed to the bar, with me, but it may be considered poor manners in your world to invite a man out drinking when you don't even know his name. No?

[ Nikolai moves quickly. He twists his wrists and grabs hold of Vanadi's elbow right after it collides with his ribs. He slowly, gently pushes it away and tucks it on Vanadi's side again. He's even kind enough to straighten out the arm for him!

And he pats it gently when he lets go. ]

You can ask me for name. [ Dryly. ] I might not answer, but most likely will.

[ That's a rather polite way to ask not to be touched, as far as those things go. So Vanadi only smiles, unoffended as ever, and keeps his arm at his side. ]

Well then— what's your name?

[ Funny. Nikolai was going for 'mildly terrifying'. Then again, win some, lose some. ]

Nikolai Luzhin. [ He looks upwards for a long moment. ] Sky always this bad?

[ He speaks good enough English most of the time. Sometimes he just likes to fuck around with it.

He wonders if Vanadi is actually speaking English. ]

Nikolai! A perfectly dashing name for a perfectly dashing man.

[ He gestures up skywards vaguely, giving it no more attention than he has to. The rain is depressing if you pay too much mind to it. ]

It absolutely is. It makes some of these missions they send us on rather a walk in the park, in terms of weather.

[ A city of rain, it is. Oh, this is London alright. But what is more interesting - and certainly more interesting that the casual compliment: ]

What kind of missions?

[ Hey look he's pumping you for information! Although he looks like he's just making conversation. ]

Oh, all sorts, I suppose...

[ He certainly doesn't mind being pumped, wink. It's natural for new arrivals to ask questions, isn't it? He'll answer until Nikolai runs out of them, or his own attention span wanes. ]

My personal favorite was a trip to a tropical island. Oh, certainly, I suppose the actual aim of it was to kill off a few pirates, but I didn't take any part in that.

[ It's less curiosity than necessity in his case, but he's not going to tell Vanadi about that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. ]

Sent to tropical island for nothing? [ Snorts. ] Very kind.

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