exsiliumlogs | [OPEN] Fatality Is Like Ghosts In The Snow

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[OPEN] Fatality Is Like Ghosts In The Snow

Date & Time: December 8th onward
Location: Snowsilium
Characters: Kanaya Maryam and you
Summary: A day in the undeath: meandering through the snowy landscape hunting for prey; work at the seamstress's house where she wrangled residence for herself, Mami, and Alice; evening gun lessons in the Mekakushi Dan mansion; and night shift in the Transporter facility.
Warnings: Noon prompt has potential vampirism; closed McGill-Brown prompt will lead to discussion of war, death, and such intersections as erasure phenomena

[Closed to Mami and Alice]
She "gets up" early to "help make breakfast", a convenient reason to never take meals in front of her mistress. Though Kanaya derives a little pleasure from doing chores for the woman that has accommodated herself as well as her two friends, the hologram she has on practically twenty-four/seven is not one of them. Here her short black hair "is cut" more conventionally, her skin is a less sparkly sort of pale, and her teeth are supposed to be flat. She practices expressions in the mirror for a few minutes a day, to make sure that the physical presence of her fangs doesn't interfere too much with the purely visual illusion. Then she turns away and places her empty plate on the countertop, ready to engage in conversation with her coworkers.

[Open: Outdoors]
By noon she's gone out "for lunch". It's an opportunity to explore, the only one she really has during the day... though sometimes as she glares at snow hares or penguins with blood thirst in her eyes, it seems like she wishes her excuse were true. Maybe if she went far enough into the forest nobody would notice. God, though, does she hate the cold. At least she has a practical black coat from Christmas last year. Soon she'll have to go shopping - her midday socializations are a little tainted with this anxiety, whom to give gifts and whom to ignore.

[Closed to Saul, Steph, Ahiru, and Dick]
On the 10th of December she has a destination in mind. A quick phone call has verified for her the location of Saul Goodman's current sanctuary. She knocks on the door and a dusting of snow falls off her black gloves. Who'll answer? Who else will be there? She doubts, upon thinking, that Saul lives alone...

[Open: Clotheshop]
And in the afternoon? She's back to work, of course. The future sewing machine is a different model from what she bought with her first paycheck in Exsilium, and she's never seen a future loom in person at all. The smile on her face as she works behind these machines is a decent approximation of happiness, less artificial than when she's selling clothes from behind the counter.

[Closed to Mekakushi Dan]
When she "goes out for dinner", her dining establishment of choice is the Mekakushi Dan's mansion, and she's glad for it because this is the only place where she keeps the hologram off long-term. In their common area she takes up as much space as she likes on the couch, wearing a T-shirt and loose skirt, and dismantles firearms blindfolded. "This is how Kano should learn," she insists with a good-natured imperiousness, "aren't you part of the blindfold brigade anyway." Part of the pretense is to delay the progression to outdoor practice, when her holographic facade will have to go back up.

[Open: Transporter Central Building]
Only at night, sneaking out of the shop when she's supposed to (need) be asleep, can she log her hours of temporal programming. Inside the complex, too, she retains her supernatural appearance if only for increased recognizability. The terminal where she works is separate from her tablet; both devices see a lot of use, though, as this is the place natives are least likely to look over her shoulder.

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Steph can't help but wrinkle her nose, "Please don't call him that, his ego doesn't need it," But there's laughter in her voice, and she's more amused than annoyed or anything.

Which doesn't mean it's not true, because seriously, he doesn't need the help, but that's getting sidetracked.

"Anyway - they aren't interested in it 'cause they don't trust us. They look at us like they're expecting us to turn around and slit their throats, and they don't have anything we need except the power supply, so I think we should stick to looking after ourselves."

Edited (i accidentally a word) 2013-12-21 14:06 (UTC)

He doesn't need the help, no, but he and his ego appreciate it nonetheless. Kanaya and Steph get a matching smile from him, the kind he wears when he's doing business, as he finds a seat nearby.

"Our biggest problem, as I see it, is the fact that we're so scattered now. It was one thing when we were back in former Exsilium, but now that some of us are here and some of us are still on the moon... that's an issue. And I think those of us who are here — and I'm not ashamed to include myself in that — are still so over what happened that keeping some distance from one another, for the time being, doesn't seem like the worst thing. But it kinda is, considering our situation. So."

So there's that.

"In other words our mobilization problems are all the worse now..." Sigh. Her chin finds its way into her hands. "The conviction--" Convict-shun, a word she clearly looked up in a digital dictionary. "Completed, the court would like to recess. It's an understandable desire, just not a productive one." She looks at him for guidance again before remembering there's only so much he can give. "I think some groups that run missions are finally starting to form and could naturally expand along with the inevitable osmosis of interested lunar parties... unfortunately the desire to go on missions may be curtailed somewhat by the increasingly public erasure problem."

"Like we're known for our productivity?"

We meaning the lot of them, present company excluded. He leans back into his chair, looking momentarily pensive.

"The erasure thing is going to be tough to spin." And here he glances over toward Stephanie. There's a shift in his expression, almost like he's hearing something Kanaya isn't. "Or if we should spin it at all."

"You don't," It's as simple as that to her, so it's not really a surprise that Saul looked her way before wondering after the same point. She doesn't even think it's possible, "People who know how awful this shit is aren't gonna change their mind."

She looks at Saul for a moment, considering whether to say what she's thinking because it isn't really her place, but... she knows Saul would prefer her opinion, "Honestly I don't know if the DITR should have an official stance on how we fight this war. Focus on working things out with the New Initiative and looking after Transports, getting everyone working together on things other than the fight against the UE. The more distance you keep from that, the better."

They can be more effective if they don't get caught up in the fights about morals or strategy.

Kanaya tries for a little while to keep her hands from tugging at her eyes and ultimately gives up the good fight.

"I guess the cat has scraped and clawed its way out of the bag and is now free to give the same treatment to our furniture." Tension affects her in little motions, like a spring. "It would be nice if these self-proclaimed time travel experts actually dedicated themselves to solving those problems instead of just pointing them out. And maybe for some ideological consistency they could abstain from supply missions regardless of whether their stolen hair product supply is sufficiently large." She works with Vennett; she picks up a thing or two.

Speaking of cats, Saul wonders where Mike is.

Anyway —

"That would be nice. I have a whole list of things that would be nice, actually. You know what that list is titled? 'Pipe Dreams.'" It's not that he wants to be this pessimistic, but.

But, but, but.

"We need someone they'll listen to."

She hasn't missed the tension in Kanaya, but she has no idea how to diffuse it, if something like a hand on her arm would be welcome or not, so Steph stays where she is for now, attempts at making tea forgotten.

"Like who?" It's a genuine question, even if she's fairly certain there's no one the whole Transport population will listen to.

In immediate response to that, Saul just shrugs.

He has no idea.

Maybe his faithful assistant does.

She does not. Her mood officially plummets into the basement, and in a tone of voice that would uncharitably be described as bordering on a snap, "Nobody." Over the past few minutes her sitting posture has deteriorated from the high, straight secretarial standard to a surprisingly adolescent slouch.

"Even if they have that 'election' they keep talking about, the disrespect for authority will persist." Sardonically reciting from bittersweet memory, she explains, "Transports ~take requests~, they aren't compelled."

Trying to come up with something at least a little more productive, she adds, "We should make a list of who's been going on missions and cooperating. I could do that."

"Of course it'll persist. Our fine residents have such varied ideas of authority and how to react to it that there's no way we'll ever get everyone to comply. Ashraf had the right idea when he mentioned a council, but..."

Look at how far they've come with that.

Saul decides that now is a good time for coffee, so he continues talking as he moves to the kitchen, hands all over the place. "A list would be good, so long as something's done with it. Sonya and I conducted that survey a while back with that same idea in mind — forming some kind of governing body — but nothing came of it. Is this your water, baby?"

He's talking to Steph, of course. And he means the kettle, whose contents have almost entirely boiled away. Maybe they need to invest in a whistling one...

"Fuck," Is her oh-so-eloquent reply to his question, and she looks more than a little sheepish, "Completely forgot about it, sorry."

She waves a hand at him to let him know that she doesn't want it anymore, if he just wants to make himself a coffee, then turns her focus to Kanaya to continue the thread of discussion.

"The problem with getting organized isn't that there's too many of us, it's that it's too easy for people to just arrive, and then disappear into the ether. The people who are active on the network or going on missions are just a small percentage of the lot of us, and if those people have no interest in engaging, we can't make 'em."

"That's true." She calms down a little at that statement in the bizarre way minor pain in a long-held sore spot of an extremity distracts from a gaping wound. "Even the Department's staff is chewed up and spit out by the transporter..." Her eyes narrow, not resting on either adult. Abduction has always been anathema to her, and it's the backbone of the organization that substitutes for her heartbeat. The cognitive dissonance is a much less pleasant tingle than the water in her hands can provide; it's cooled down some anyway.

"I know the director's been tracking arrivals and departures - they're so unpredictable, of course, there's only so much anyone can do."

"There's our word of the day," Saul says, busying himself with prepping the kettle again — for Steph's tea, not his coffee. "Unpredictable. The departures are the worst part. At least we know that arrivals happen on the first of every month, and there never seems to be more than fifty or so newbies turning up, but — "

He pauses, shrugging.

"There's never any warning before they disappear, and I still have no idea how that even works. It's not like anyone goes back to the Transporter and says, you know, beam me up, Scotty, so..."

It's been a while since Saul last thought about how much the technology here freaks him out. Glancing down at his hands, he finds he's fidgeting with a teabag.

That isn't quite what she meant, but she realizes it doesn't really matter, because they're getting off topic. Kanaya mentioned that she's on her break, and she wants to draw attention away from Saul when she can see something's wrong, so--

Steph takes a seat on the arm of the couch, rather than settling comfortably, and the question is addressed at both Saul and Kanaya.

"What do you want the DITR to be doing?" That's what this all comes down to, right? Without the Initiative, and without wanting to get too tangled up with the New Initiative, they have to work out what exactly they're going to do as an organization.

Her brow folds up like an accordian as she reluctantly faces for the first time her mystification as to what exactly the Department does. They relayed mass missions to transports in advance... before those came to an end. They... threw mixers, back when they had the venues and the budget? That isn't particularly noteworthy, and the welcome tent would survive if the department were dissolved tomorrow.

"Help people? I guess." The response is so lame, and Kanaya's uncomfortable looks at the adults telegraph her self-conscious inadequacy. "I don't know, if we don't have any information for the liaisons to convey..."

Saul doesn't think it's a lame response. In fact, he nods in agreement — emphatically, even. Yes; they should be helping people. Their original purpose — original public purpose — is lost. With no information to convey, all they're left to do is greet people.

Who the hell wants a measly greeting in a place like this?

Setting the teabag down, he instead moves, again, this time to rinse out the mug Collette made him. "Help people. That's what we should be doing. That's part of what we'd intended to do from the start: help the Initiative-Transport relationship get away from its potential as a guest on Springer. By relaying information, we'd be helping. Yeah? So now we help in a new way. We adapt as an organization, just like we've adapted as individuals."

At the glance towards her, Steph gives Kanaya a reassuring smile, because she thinks it's a good respnse, too. Still, she lets Saul talk first, waiting until he's done to add, "Then you need to work out what people need the most."

Which is - a lot of things, really, but she thinks both Kanaya and Saul are smart enough to know she means what people need that the DITR can supply.

"I think it comes down to two main different options, you can help people survive whatever the hell this universe decides to throw at us, or you focus on the war effort. Or both, but you should keep them seperate, people might not wanna accept too much help from the DITR if they're too heavily involved in the war," And she's still not sure if the DITR should be involved in the war effort at all, but that's not her decision, "The former is probably easier, but there'll be a lot more to do. Feferi's planning to hand out clothes, right? That's a good start, but there's a lot more that could be done for people."

There's more she has to say about the war option, but she decides to save that for now and see what Saul and Kanaya's thoughts about what she's said so far.

There's no hiding the brightening of Kanaya's eyes at "the war effort" and subsequent dimming at Steph's suggestion survival aid is superior. She realizes that Stephanie's not the proper subject of her ire though... it's that the Initiative really can no longer provide even the basics for them. They don't have guaranteed lodging, or salaries, and by extension food... in the long term much more is missing.

"Aid would probably be much more popular with the community." Humans just love to feel good about themselves, bask in the illusion of positivity. "There are other organizations, currently independent, possibly future subsidaries in a changed model like that."

"Aid would definitely be much more popular. And, let's face it, something we're more qualified to give. Looking at our current staff..."

He trails off, shrugging a shoulder.

"We're not qualified for much aside from aid at this point. With Medusa and Sue around, things were different." There's something that's making him hesitate, though. Whatever it is goes unaddressed. "Let's not make any decisions for the time being. Considering a shift in priorities, though, that's a start. But I'm just wondering if we'll get to accomplish much, if anything, with all this time travel shit."

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[OPEN] Fatality Is Like Ghosts In The Snow

you don't even go here

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