Thus far, Senburu Trati'salan has provided Anders with such diverse company as a talking dolphin, a couple of mandasars (giant talking lobsters), a girl who turns into a dragon, and Hawke, who is scarier than all of them.
This is the first time he's come across a grey-skinned teenage boy carrying a sword as tall as he is, however.
The sword's as tall as the boy, that is, not as tall as Anders. Anders himself has a staff strapped to his back and the staff is taller than Anders. Clearly, the station should form a club for People Who Carry Oversized Weapons.
"Hello," says Anders. "That's quite the sword you have there." The remark is not flirtatious in tenor even though it is being spoken by Anders.
Quote pauses at the voice, stopping midstep and putting his foot back on the ground before turning around. The man gets a quizzical look (well, as much as Quote can express a look) as he's glanced up and down. Interesting clothing, but seeing as the gaps in his memories are still fairly large, he isn't one to judge.
"It is... a special weapon... to me."
There is a faint krshsh amidst his words, if Anders listens carefully.
((for visual cue: the thing he's wearing is a lot like what's in my only icon but it's what he wears after [major plot event] so it's THE BLACK COAT OF DOOM and looks like this - he's of course the one on the left in that shot. Yes, it has black feathers on the shoulders. No, I do not know why Anders finds feathers to be such an attractive option in defensive magewear.))"It feels special," Anders agrees, thoughtfully. He's a mage; he can sense Fade energy; and this sword isn't of the Fade, exactly, but there's something like a spirit in it, something animating it
( ... )
((Because feathers are awesome. He needs another reason?))
Quote nods a little, the energy from the blade flickering somewhat. Whether the spirit inside is aware -- or even sentient -- is unknown, however. It seems to be content and shows no malice.
He notices the slight wince, wondering what had caused it. But the human was offering information, and Quote remembered enough about trading to know that you traded one thing for another.
"I am... an armed... recon robot," Quote offers in kind. "I am... unaware... of what... precisely... a mage... is."
He tilts his head a little, looking as curious as a robot unfamiliar with expressing emotions can.
Therru is taken aback when he removes the sword. It pulsates with powerful puissance. Through her second sight, she can see the soul trapped inside. Yet she also can't sense any malice from him.
Father told her of things like this once, of the stone that trapped the gebbeth in his youth. Souls could be bound to objects but only at great cost.
Quote may not have all his systems up, but he is aware of someone watching him. He turns towards Therru, tilting his head a little. He takes in her appearance quickly, though his eyes linger (as much as a split-second take in can "linger") briefly on the burns. Whatever registers for them, however, doesn't show, and instead he meets her eyes.
Therru takes two steps backwards, warily, ready to flee. There's something strange about this boy's facial expressions. They don't move enough. Then again she has no room to criticize re: weird looking facial features.
"The weapon..." Her voice is unusually harsh, especially for a girl her age.
If Quote registers the harshness, he doesn't show it. He can read sarcasm and extreme emotions, yes, but not living among humans hasn't given him anything to really judge against.
As it is, he knows something is angering her, and apparently relates to the sword.
"It is... a special weapon... given to me... by my friend... so that I... could avenge his death... and save... the survivors... of his species."
Hawke was curious. For one thing, not many other people on the station used swords, they were fairly archaic in this time and place (though archaic or not, they'd pry her daggers from her cold dead corpse, thank you very much--which had been the case everywhere she'd been, come to that). For another thing, the sword was bigger than the kid. What was it about this place and children who were far, far physically stronger than they had any right to be?
On the other hand, given the blank expression on this one's face, she's not entirely sure he is a child. The concept of a robot is one she's adapted to with surprising ease (she thinks of them as being computer golems), and the lack of emotion in his features suggests this is one, though not one like any she's yet seen.
"You're new here?" she asks. Boring opening line, but it's a start.
Quote pauses as another person calls to him, turning around to face Hawke. Another human with odd clothing, he mentally registers. They might be from the same place. Or they might not be -- he doesn't have much data on the way of human clothing.
Like the other, she seemed to linger on the sight of King's sword.
"I am... new, yes. The humans... who smelled... like various drugs... were unhelpful... in information gathering."
Hawke groans and briefly considers starting a movement on the station to keep the hippies away from new arrivals. "The hippies, yes, it's hard to get sense out of them. If you'd like some information without flowery metaphors and smokeweed haze, I can help if you like. My name is Hawke."
The sword draws Roxie's attention. Her expression is cold, as it usually is, though there's a certain quiet greed at the edge of her eyes.
She seems quite innocent herself, at a first glance. No weapons, none of the trailing odors of the hippies, and clothes that are at least clean if a bit ill-fitting, though there's something analytically sharp in her gaze. A heavy-looking sack is slung over one shoulder, burdened down with unknown contents.
Her appearance is reviewed and promptly filed away. He notices the greed, however, and makes a mental note to watch her carefully.
"I... am Quote."
It was a simple answer, but he was never sure about that question. Some people said it and wanted a name, others a species or a serial number. Best to just give the default and expand on it later.
"A friend... of mine. It had... belonged to him... before he died. He... gave it to me... so that... I could use it... to avenge him... and those... that had died."
It's a simple answer, perhaps, but it's true none the less.
Quote probably wasn't expecting to meet a talking dolphin on some kind of spider-legged mechanical walking harness, but that was totally what happened.
"Oh, an AI! Don't sssee many of your k-kind around here."
No, Quote had not expected to see that at all, but he's learned that the world often holds the unexpected, especially when one lacks memories or experience in it.
"Is that... so? That is... perhaps for the best... as those I know... besides myself... and Curly... are not friendly."
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This is the first time he's come across a grey-skinned teenage boy carrying a sword as tall as he is, however.
The sword's as tall as the boy, that is, not as tall as Anders. Anders himself has a staff strapped to his back and the staff is taller than Anders. Clearly, the station should form a club for People Who Carry Oversized Weapons.
"Hello," says Anders. "That's quite the sword you have there." The remark is not flirtatious in tenor even though it is being spoken by Anders.
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"It is... a special weapon... to me."
There is a faint krshsh amidst his words, if Anders listens carefully.
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Quote nods a little, the energy from the blade flickering somewhat. Whether the spirit inside is aware -- or even sentient -- is unknown, however. It seems to be content and shows no malice.
He notices the slight wince, wondering what had caused it. But the human was offering information, and Quote remembered enough about trading to know that you traded one thing for another.
"I am... an armed... recon robot," Quote offers in kind. "I am... unaware... of what... precisely... a mage... is."
He tilts his head a little, looking as curious as a robot unfamiliar with expressing emotions can.
"Is it... of immense... importance?"
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Father told her of things like this once, of the stone that trapped the gebbeth in his youth. Souls could be bound to objects but only at great cost.
What to do? Follow him? Or confront him about it?
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"You... seem troubled... by something."
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"The weapon..." Her voice is unusually harsh, especially for a girl her age.
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As it is, he knows something is angering her, and apparently relates to the sword.
"It is... a special weapon... given to me... by my friend... so that I... could avenge his death... and save... the survivors... of his species."
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On the other hand, given the blank expression on this one's face, she's not entirely sure he is a child. The concept of a robot is one she's adapted to with surprising ease (she thinks of them as being computer golems), and the lack of emotion in his features suggests this is one, though not one like any she's yet seen.
"You're new here?" she asks. Boring opening line, but it's a start.
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Like the other, she seemed to linger on the sight of King's sword.
"I am... new, yes. The humans... who smelled... like various drugs... were unhelpful... in information gathering."
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There's... well, that might be a smile. It's hard to tell.
"My name... is Quote. It is... a pleasure... to meet you... Hawke."
Let's see, information. He consults what he knows.
"Exactly... where is our location... at the moment?"
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She seems quite innocent herself, at a first glance. No weapons, none of the trailing odors of the hippies, and clothes that are at least clean if a bit ill-fitting, though there's something analytically sharp in her gaze. A heavy-looking sack is slung over one shoulder, burdened down with unknown contents.
"Who are you?"
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"I... am Quote."
It was a simple answer, but he was never sure about that question. Some people said it and wanted a name, others a species or a serial number. Best to just give the default and expand on it later.
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She adjusts her glasses slightly.
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It's a simple answer, perhaps, but it's true none the less.
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"Oh, an AI! Don't sssee many of your k-kind around here."
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"Is that... so? That is... perhaps for the best... as those I know... besides myself... and Curly... are not friendly."
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"The maintenance here c-could use some work. Ssspeaking of which, looks like your vocal processor's busted."
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"You are... the first... to notice, however. I believe most... assume... I chose to... speak this way... or was... built to... speak this way."
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