Well, that was... something. Rita could only hope the rest of her new contacts would be more informative and less crazy-sounding than Rose had been. That didn't necessarily mean Rose was lying, but it did leave Rita with no coherent or applicable information.
Her next appointment was with a man called... Lingormr? She wasn't sure how to pronounce that, and she wasn't sure what he looked like, either.
She was already in the Sun Room, so all she needed to do was dispose of her emptied lunch bag and move to somewhere conspicuous, so the stranger could easily find her. Since the bulletin had worked well for that purpose last shift, she made her way there, finding a dark-haired man waiting in front of the board. Could that be...?
Briefly, she made eye contact with him. If he didn't react to her appearance, she'd simply move on.
The first other person in the room fit the description Rita had given to herself, and she had pointedly looked at him, so that seemed good enough. He approached, notebook tucked under one arm. "Rita? I am Lingormr." For good measure, he added a polite bow. "Please, where would you like to sit?"
Good. Not only was he the man Rita was looking for, but he went ahead and said his name for her so she wouldn't have to fumble with the pronunciation. She nodded to confirm when he addressed her by name, then looked over her shoulder, locating the pair of armchairs where she had her conversation with Rose. Though there was no such thing as real privacy in the institute, they at least weren't too conspicuous.
"Let's go over there," she suggested, gesturing to the location. From the way he bowed, and how he tried to address her as 'Lady' Mordio earlier, Rita had to wonder if he might be a knight or a noble. There weren't many other kinds of people who acted like that, from Rita's experience.
Eager to get started, Rita led the way over to the chairs, sat down in one, and immediately got to business. "To start, why don't we share our backgrounds in magic? You said something about research." It was a word choice that sounded promising to Rita, though she knew she shouldn't get her hopes up too much.
"Of course." Loki followed Rita to the arm chair and sat, lounging comfortably. He opened his notebook and balanced it on the arm of the chair.
He nodded. "I am a... scholar originally. My primary interest is in maths, sciences, and the arcane arts, and I have traveled widely across the kingdoms and jarldoms available to me in pursuit of texts, scholars, and practitioners."
Idly, he sketched a curling symbol on the corner of the page. "I have found that all three disciplines overlap into a unified field when you delve into them deeply enough. So any talk of theory will involve a discussion of the various types of the fields and the means by which they are manipulated. You will have to let me know how mathematical as opposed to conceptual you wish the discussion to be." He smiled. "And of yourself, Rita?"
It wasn't hiding, though that was what it felt like in a way. Given the circumstances, Sam figured he deserved a goddamned break from. People. Which was selfish as hell since he'd wanted to check up on Dean and Ruby after last night, but he just. Couldn't.
The thing that sucked was that his room wasn't the best getaway, either. Peter's bed was right there, only it was made and there was nothing about it that looked slept in. Like he'd never existed at all. That was the real bitch of it. The more he sat and stared at the empty space, the more he realized he didn't know jack shit about Peter at all. They'd just never had the chance to really talk and he'd always figured he could do it later. Peter had fallen into that category where later was possible. He'd just. Been around for so long. Ever since Sam had gotten here. Before Sam had gotten here, in fact. First freaking person he'd ever met and the only person who knew anything about Sam. Hell, Sam had told Peter before he'd told Dean.
Christ. Christ. He knew why he didn't want to go
( ... )
Smacked a cat, huh. Sam raised an eyebrow at that, furrowed his brows a little, and mostly came up with the image of Peter batting aside a furry white kitten that went yowling into the ether. Probably not the picture the kid meant to incur. (Look, he already genuinely had some trouble thinking of Peter having enough super strength to kill someone. Just. In terms of size
( ... )
As the day continued, Kratos found himself wishing more and more that the military was still in control, if only so that he would not have to put up with this nurse. The soldier who had been escorting him around for the past five days or so had been far more deferential to his preferences, possibly because he had no reason to keep up with this pretense of "beneficial for your health". However, it had also made him thoroughly more preferable.
Thankfully, he could be stubborn when he wanted to, and, as he pointed out, only interested patients need go to the Music Room. He was not interested and therefore could be reasonably excluded from the activity
( ... )
The call to go back inside for the fourth shift of the day had been way too early for Claire, in his opinion. What if he wanted to spend more time outside? They couldn't deprive him of that, right? That was just plain wrong! Besides, he had been having a perfectly good conversation with a pretty lady and it was certainly rude to interrupt it for something as silly as a shift change.
His nurse had been firm though, and Claire hated dealing with more trouble than necessary. She'd threatened orderlies on him again and, while Claire had no doubts that he could handle all the institute's orderlies at once and still come out on top, it really would be a lot of extra time wasted, right? So he'd done the nurse a favor (she better know it!) and gone back inside.
What to do, what to do? After this, he was pretty sure it would be dinner and then night. He couldn't wait! But there was still so much time to kill! Perhaps he actually should go to the Music Room, if only to find something to amuse himself with while he waited for night to finally
( ... )
His automatic reaction was to say, flatly, No, you don't, but that would be a lie because the young man who had just sat down next to him did know him, if one conversation in a chapel counted as enough to "know" someone.
"We've met before, yes," Kratos said, raising an eyebrow as his head turned to face the other. There was something slightly unnerving about the casual way that he had just been greeted, but he remembered that that feeling had sort of pervaded his last (and first) conversation with this particular person, that feeling of faint discomfort and uneasiness. "You're..." He paused as he tried to recall the man's name. "...Vino?"
[WOW NO, HERP DERP, slow tagging for me, so shhhh]
"You remembered my name!" 'Vino' declared with a grin. Perhaps that was an odd thing to say. But then, Clare didn't always make it a habit of remembering the names of all the people he'd met before.
"I think yours began with a 'K'," Claire continued thoughtfully. Life would be so much easier if people could just walk around with name tags, right? Oh, but wait, then where would be the fun in getting to know new people, right? Exchanging names was like a social ritual, wasn't it? It was kind of a nice thing.
"So what did you think of last night?" He jumped topics as they came to him. Whether or not the other redhead would help jog his memory for him didn't stop Claire from barreling onward in his conversation. "Something must have happened, right? All the soldiers are gone. Good riddance, I say! They were a boring, stern-faced lot, all of them. Never any fun to talk to at all, right?"
Brothers who could mimic more than looks were troublesome. He supposed he was lucky Albedo had merely passed on his condition as opposed to ruining whatever agreement he had hoped to gain. A part of Nigredo was tempted to apologize as soon as Zero introduced himself, but doing so would be giving away an oddity that was perhaps best left in the dark. A truth applicable to most anything in his life
It was a mess, but not everyone had the privilege to witness.
He sat calmly in his seat, cushions propped against his back as a slow fire moved across his chest. Albedo had went elsewhere for this hour, which was somehow fine. It wasn't as if it was permanent, no? Nigredo tipped his head and tried not to wonder.
Alright, so maybe staying out in the cold the entirety of last shift wasn't the best idea in the world for a human, as Zero was now thoroughly chilled to the point where the sensation of indoor heating on his body was both relieving and uncomfortable, strangely enough. At least it was better than the thought of sitting uselessly in a music room for an entire shift. That sounded just as wasteful and undesirable as the arts and crafts room shift from a previous day. Thankfully, Nigredo wanted to meet in the Sun Room this shift, so Zero didn't have to waste his time in either room
( ... )
It was a fair-haired individual who knocked Nigredo out of his forced stupor, who approached by calling his name. The child glanced upward, noting the long hair and the blue eyes, and found himself taken aback by how young the figure appeared. A product of being in the company of too many adults for so many years, Nigredo supposed; it was always the teenagers he couldn't quite grasp. Although, if this was the anticipated Zero, age and appearance mattered little
( ... )
At Nigredo's question, Zero nodded, and at his gesture, he obeyed and sat down in the empty seat near him. The boy's brief grimace didn't go unnoticed, however, and neither did the bandages just showing under one of his shirt sleeves, which the once-Reploid saw after sitting down. An injury. Is this is what he meant by being 'a bit under the weather
( ... )
Kurama listened to the announcement over the Intercom with new interest. His conversation had given him new insight into the situation, but he knew that there was probably much more that he hadn't seen yet. The Music Room, was it? Kurama had no particular inclination toward the arts, though he could appreciate it. Why else would he have turned to thievery otherwise? He was a creature of aesthetics, after all; there was no way around that one and he admitted it. The hoards of hidden treasure that Youko Kurama had accumulated over the years proved that. He fancied himself a collector rather than an artist, really
( ... )
Taura strolled back into the Sun Room, to the sight of a bulletin board practically covered in overlapping notes. Notes which made absolutely no sense, even with the baseline set by this place. A territorial dispute, between countries that hadn't existed for centuries, in terrible earnest.
She hoped they weren't really going to go to war. Confusion to their enemies, not each other. Right? It seemed rather good-natured, though she wasn't always good at reading people. She read through more of them, frowning slightly. Were there really so many people from Earth here, and so few from off-world
( ... )
apologies for the late! and... sorry for the tl;dr ;_;fuukaenbujinDecember 15 2011, 09:55:10 UTC
As expected, the bulletin board really was a gold mine of information -- in fact, arguably an even better source right now than directly asking someone. This was for a number of reasons actually, some of which Kurama had only just realized, based on the information he'd already received. Firstly, having access to a vast network seemed a lot easier than having access to only one individual's information. In addition, while there were certainly pluses in directly interacting with a person, there were also pluses to not having to deal with some of the social conduct that dealing with a person face-to-face would require. Was this the reason why there were so much hope for the advent of the Internet era, perhaps
( ... )
...I just noticed there was completely no dialog in my last post. /o\ninelivesonceDecember 16 2011, 04:16:24 UTC
"I'm not sure. I can't tell if they actually believe what they're saying or not." They looked very earnest, but the bulletin board attracted a wide array of attitudes. Some of which were ridiculous, and some of which were deathly serious, and it took knowing the writers to tell the difference.
"If they intend to try enforcing it, it could be a lot of trouble. Is Earth still so divided, now?" That assumed the man came from somewhere -- and somewhen -- closer to the Earth the Institute claimed as home. The one she knew still had governments that ruled over areas she could walk across in a day, but they got along. Mostly. The real fighting tended to be on the streets between the offworlders' embassies, if anyone bothered at all.
Mostly it was a theme park. Pretty, and old, but not worth fighting over. "I don't intend to petition any of them for the right to move around," she added.
Comments 120
Her next appointment was with a man called... Lingormr? She wasn't sure how to pronounce that, and she wasn't sure what he looked like, either.
She was already in the Sun Room, so all she needed to do was dispose of her emptied lunch bag and move to somewhere conspicuous, so the stranger could easily find her. Since the bulletin had worked well for that purpose last shift, she made her way there, finding a dark-haired man waiting in front of the board. Could that be...?
Briefly, she made eye contact with him. If he didn't react to her appearance, she'd simply move on.
Reply
Reply
"Let's go over there," she suggested, gesturing to the location. From the way he bowed, and how he tried to address her as 'Lady' Mordio earlier, Rita had to wonder if he might be a knight or a noble. There weren't many other kinds of people who acted like that, from Rita's experience.
Eager to get started, Rita led the way over to the chairs, sat down in one, and immediately got to business. "To start, why don't we share our backgrounds in magic? You said something about research." It was a word choice that sounded promising to Rita, though she knew she shouldn't get her hopes up too much.
Reply
He nodded. "I am a... scholar originally. My primary interest is in maths, sciences, and the arcane arts, and I have traveled widely across the kingdoms and jarldoms available to me in pursuit of texts, scholars, and practitioners."
Idly, he sketched a curling symbol on the corner of the page. "I have found that all three disciplines overlap into a unified field when you delve into them deeply enough. So any talk of theory will involve a discussion of the various types of the fields and the means by which they are manipulated. You will have to let me know how mathematical as opposed to conceptual you wish the discussion to be." He smiled. "And of yourself, Rita?"
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
The thing that sucked was that his room wasn't the best getaway, either. Peter's bed was right there, only it was made and there was nothing about it that looked slept in. Like he'd never existed at all. That was the real bitch of it. The more he sat and stared at the empty space, the more he realized he didn't know jack shit about Peter at all. They'd just never had the chance to really talk and he'd always figured he could do it later. Peter had fallen into that category where later was possible. He'd just. Been around for so long. Ever since Sam had gotten here. Before Sam had gotten here, in fact. First freaking person he'd ever met and the only person who knew anything about Sam. Hell, Sam had told Peter before he'd told Dean.
Christ. Christ. He knew why he didn't want to go ( ... )
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Thankfully, he could be stubborn when he wanted to, and, as he pointed out, only interested patients need go to the Music Room. He was not interested and therefore could be reasonably excluded from the activity ( ... )
Reply
His nurse had been firm though, and Claire hated dealing with more trouble than necessary. She'd threatened orderlies on him again and, while Claire had no doubts that he could handle all the institute's orderlies at once and still come out on top, it really would be a lot of extra time wasted, right? So he'd done the nurse a favor (she better know it!) and gone back inside.
What to do, what to do? After this, he was pretty sure it would be dinner and then night. He couldn't wait! But there was still so much time to kill! Perhaps he actually should go to the Music Room, if only to find something to amuse himself with while he waited for night to finally ( ... )
Reply
His automatic reaction was to say, flatly, No, you don't, but that would be a lie because the young man who had just sat down next to him did know him, if one conversation in a chapel counted as enough to "know" someone.
"We've met before, yes," Kratos said, raising an eyebrow as his head turned to face the other. There was something slightly unnerving about the casual way that he had just been greeted, but he remembered that that feeling had sort of pervaded his last (and first) conversation with this particular person, that feeling of faint discomfort and uneasiness. "You're..." He paused as he tried to recall the man's name. "...Vino?"
Reply
"You remembered my name!" 'Vino' declared with a grin. Perhaps that was an odd thing to say. But then, Clare didn't always make it a habit of remembering the names of all the people he'd met before.
"I think yours began with a 'K'," Claire continued thoughtfully. Life would be so much easier if people could just walk around with name tags, right? Oh, but wait, then where would be the fun in getting to know new people, right? Exchanging names was like a social ritual, wasn't it? It was kind of a nice thing.
"So what did you think of last night?" He jumped topics as they came to him. Whether or not the other redhead would help jog his memory for him didn't stop Claire from barreling onward in his conversation. "Something must have happened, right? All the soldiers are gone. Good riddance, I say! They were a boring, stern-faced lot, all of them. Never any fun to talk to at all, right?"
Reply
It was a mess, but not everyone had the privilege to witness.
He sat calmly in his seat, cushions propped against his back as a slow fire moved across his chest. Albedo had went elsewhere for this hour, which was somehow fine. It wasn't as if it was permanent, no? Nigredo tipped his head and tried not to wonder.
[For Zero.]
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
She hoped they weren't really going to go to war. Confusion to their enemies, not each other. Right? It seemed rather good-natured, though she wasn't always good at reading people. She read through more of them, frowning slightly. Were there really so many people from Earth here, and so few from off-world ( ... )
Reply
Reply
"If they intend to try enforcing it, it could be a lot of trouble. Is Earth still so divided, now?" That assumed the man came from somewhere -- and somewhen -- closer to the Earth the Institute claimed as home. The one she knew still had governments that ruled over areas she could walk across in a day, but they got along. Mostly. The real fighting tended to be on the streets between the offworlders' embassies, if anyone bothered at all.
Mostly it was a theme park. Pretty, and old, but not worth fighting over. "I don't intend to petition any of them for the right to move around," she added.
Reply
Leave a comment