[Morinth/F!Shep+Samara] - Lessons in Humility (Long Overdue) - 2c/?
anonymous
February 12 2012, 04:57:03 UTC
derp. last one should have been 'b.' I do know my alphabet, i swear...
The indirect approach was one Morinth had considered to be a possible failing route, all told, but to her mind, it wouldn't do to simply ambush a trained soldier. It would have set of all kinds of warning signs, started their interaction out on an unnecessarily hostile tone, if years of combat had trained in instinctual triggers in the woman, as often it did. This way, there might still be some caution present, but it would be less so than sparking a sudden rise of adrenaline.
Beyond that, this method provided an unspoken compliment. Soldier or no, the woman was still the sum of instinct underneath all the cognitive discipline. Male or female, a subtle reminder of being attractive, aesthetically pleasing in spite of being surrounded by superficial vanity, could soften targets surprisingly well, if it was played correctly. Morinth hoped that this did the same; set the stage for what she eventually planned to act on. Really, something about a hard-bitten warrior opening up enough to show common vulnerability, coaxed to the surface regardless of how little of it was present, that sent a small thrill through her. Not too unlike the thrill she got when she saw the woman begin to approach, apparently determined to follow through on the silent offer that had been made.
The approach itself was one of confidence; it was when she saw Morinth in the flesh, without a veil of distance and shadow to cloud all the details, that she registered surprised. She hadn't expected what she saw, undoubtedly; had expected someone ugly, perhaps, or another soldier. Maybe even a rival.
"Thanks for the drink," Soldier Girl offered, once she'd gotten over her surprise. "But I have to admit-- in places like this, I'm a little suspicious of charity."
An unspoken question-- not exactly polite, but close enough. Blunt, though; that, Morinth could appreciate.
"You just looked like you could use a change of scenery," Morinth said, with that in mind, a calm smile on her face, her posture relaxed, open; kept her elbows as far from her torso as possible, to keep from looking guarded, doing little to protect vitals, giving the signal that this was a place the woman could relax. "And, just so you're not thinking it's still an act of charity-- as it turns out, I could use some company."
"The night's been that rough, has it?" Soldier Girl replied, smiling lopsidedly; an attempt at levity.
It was good to hear that, even in uncertainty, those words weren't stilted; a positive sign, if ever there was one, even if the humor was rife with implied self-deprecation. Modest.
"I could ask you the same thing," Morinth said. "You've barely spoken to anyone since you got here. Had plenty of dancers looking your way, too-- but you just passed them by."
"I take it that's not normal?"
Morinth chuckled, her smile broadening. "Says a lot about you," she said. "Most people just see the aesthetic. Don't mind a dull conversation provided they get something out of it later."
"Some of them could be great conversationalists," Soldier Girl offered dryly. "You never know until you talk to them."
"On their off-hours, maybe," Morinth replied, returning the easy smile she was offered. "It's a standard rule to keep conversation light and breezy. Apparently, onlookers don't like it when the strippers they're watching are more intelligent than they are. Changes the balance of power."
Soldier Girl paused-- and couldn't hold back an amused smile, at that. "That's really a rule here?"
"Of course. Hard to objectify someone while they're telling you about their latest paper on theoretical physics. Well... I suppose a salarian might tell you differently, but most of the clientele wouldn't."
The soldier chuckled, genuine amusement in her expression, some of that surprise sneaking back into the look in her eyes. "I suppose I hadn't looked at it that way before," she conceded. "Though, that sort of theme might be worth looking into once I retire."
"It'd be novel, at least," Morinth said, allowing her smile to broaden again; she was already going above and beyond what Soldier Girl expected. "So, what's your name, anyway?" she asked, canting her head to the side. "Mine's Morinth."
[Morinth/F!Shep+Samara] - Lessons in Humility (Long Overdue) - 2d/?
anonymous
February 12 2012, 05:01:20 UTC
"It's-- Jane," the woman admitted, looking down at her drink.
Sheepish enough for it to be somehwere in the vicinity of the truth-- but halting enough to be a partial lie. Hadn't offered a surname, either.
"I don't get to know your last name?" Morinth asked, feigning disappointment.
"Maybe later," 'Jane' offered, smiling lopsidedly, her eyes returning to Morinth's. "There's a lot of mercs around here, and too many in earshot to make it worth outing myself."
"Sounds like there's a story behind that," Morinth said, genuinely curious. "But don't feel rushed to tell me, if you're nervous about it. It's a pleasure to meet you, regardless."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," the woman said-- again, as if not expecting to be saying it. That much, she allowed to give voice to by adding, "Like you said-- the last thing I expected when I came in here was good conversation."
-----
And that much was the god's-honest truth.
Samara had said Morinth would be charming, might even bear a family resemblance-- but the asari was sharp, intelligent, and not nearly as superficial as Shepard had assumed she'd be. More to the point, she was a dead ringer for her mother. If the ornamental plates Samara wore on her face had been present, there was some question as to whether or not the two could be told apart, provided Morinth didn't speak. Their voices and manner were disparate enough to tell the difference.
But appearances alone had worried her, to some degree. Her attraction to the matriarch was one she'd taken pains to keep under wraps-- and here, she was in a position where that attraction could be put to use. By her, and, arguably, by Morinth. As it was, even without any fancy tricks, the asari-- Ardat-Yakshi, she reminded herself-- was incredibly easy to talk to. Her manner, her demeanor, wasn't that of a seasoned killer, or of excessive vanity; she was personable, with a solid sense of humor, and wasn't at all ignorant to military matters. But even as Shepard repeated to herself the word adaptability, she had to admit: she was enjoying herself.
On the Normandy, there was so much emphasis on the mission, on dire situations that they constantly found themselves in, that casual conversation that was genuinely engaging seemed hard to come by. There was never a chance to relax, and simply talk-- save for those few moments of sharing a brandy with Chakwas.
And really, was it really such a bad thing to enjoy this?
True, they were setting Morinth up, and true, the evening was going to end badly... but for the time being, Shepard could only go with what Samara had told her. To be natural. To be up-front. To maintain Morinth's interest and, above all, to win enough favor to be taken home.
So-- there was no harm in it. Was there? Morally-- ethically-- there was. But that much, she could set aside, rationalize, Samara's words echoing through her mind every time she found herself in doubt, found herself questioning:
Nef is only one of hundreds, Shepard-- maybe thousands, with many mothers, fathers, sons and daughters to mourn their passing. Let them stand as proof that what we are doing here tonight is a matter of necessity-- remind yourself of them, if ever you find your conviction lacking.
Nef had been won over, too. Nef had been spoken to in all the right ways, given all the right cues. And while Samara had seemed to suggest that perhaps, those cues would be put upon Shepard, instead, the opposite seemed to be happening. There was no talk of art, no talk of music, or drugs, or vids... it was just simple conversation. But then, the more she drank, the more it began to tilt towards personal topics, subtle at first-- but by the time Shepard noticed that fact, they were too close to an end-game to pull back.
"I look at you and I see a lot of exhaustion," Morinth was saying gently, canting her head to the side. "Someone who could use a moment to relax, or just a moment to breathe."
"That description could apply to just about anyone in here," Shepard replied, unable to keep her natural caution from overriding her immediate agenda.
"These people know when to breathe," Morinth said. "Know relaxation's the only thing they can ask for. May not be healthy, but it's something."
[Morinth/F!Shep+Samara] - Lessons in Humility (Long Overdue) - 2e/?
anonymous
February 12 2012, 05:08:44 UTC
"Are you saying I don't know how to do either?"
"You're trained not to," Morinth replied. "And considering what you told me about some of the merc groups around here, you've got plenty of airtight reasons to keep your guard up. But it does get exhausting, doesn't it? Using the battlefield as a way to unwind, knowing that when it's gone, you'll be restless again. Looking for ways to let go."
"Take it you've got some suggestions for how to do that," Shepard said dryly, though she forced herself to keep from letting indignity get the better of her.
Didn't need to let the asari know that she'd just hit upon a sore point-- even if she seemed to know anyway.
"I do," Morinth said, smile broadening into an unspoken suggestion. "Well... Assuming you play your cards right. But the way you're going, I doubt you'll have much trouble with that."
Shepard chuckled. "The way you say it, you'd think it's already a done deal."
"Would you like it to be?"
Was that her 'in?' The invitation? Or was she reading the situation wrong? Samara had said, be up front, don't be coy... but, in the end, bluntness was the only thing Shepard could think to approach that with.
"I haven't made up my mind yet," she said gently.
"Maybe you'd like me to make it up for you," Morinth suggested, letting her voice mirror what she'd communicated previously in a look; gentle, sultry... enough to make Shepard wonder if that was the warning sign.
...Or, alternatively, wonder if she didn't in some way find the idea genuinely appealing.
"Maybe I would," she said, offering the truth in spite of her misgivings.
"Just a 'maybe?'" she opted for, training her voice to offer a note of sympathy. "I'm used to soldiers having passion-- fire. I'd hate to think someone as vibrant as you is so beaten into the ground that you've lost that... that command has gotten you so tightly wound that you can't let go of a little control sometimes."
"Like you said," Shepard replied, shrugging. "Maybe I'm just tired." She eased back in her seat, but paused before taking a drink, looking over the rim of the glass curiously, some of Morinth's words finally reaching her. Setting the glass down, she said, "Wait a minute... how did you know I was part of command?"
"You have a way about you," Morinth said, simply enough. "You met eyes with that krogan at the bar like you were used to talking down subordinates; got those turians to leave with a few simple orders. Not many people can do that. Most of the ones that try end up leaving here as a fine red mist-- but you? You walked away unscathed." A beat. Then, "And just how often do you need to be on your guard, anyway? How often do you have to keep up appearances for the people serving under you? For the people you meet here, and everywhere else?"
Too often, she wanted to say. Much as she was loathe to admit it, the questions hit home in a way she wasn't prepared for-- and that much, she was certain was coming through in her expression.
"You don't have to be that way with me, Jane," Morinth said, putting the pseudonym to use with a low, lilting tone. "And you deserve a way out. The question is-- would you take it, if I offered?" Easing in closer as Shepard took a drink of her bourbon, the asari draped an arm behind her shoulders and said, "Would you give me the chance to see what you're like when you finally unwind?" in a silken tone that was more sultry than anything she'd ever heard.
The indirect approach was one Morinth had considered to be a possible failing route, all told, but to her mind, it wouldn't do to simply ambush a trained soldier. It would have set of all kinds of warning signs, started their interaction out on an unnecessarily hostile tone, if years of combat had trained in instinctual triggers in the woman, as often it did. This way, there might still be some caution present, but it would be less so than sparking a sudden rise of adrenaline.
Beyond that, this method provided an unspoken compliment. Soldier or no, the woman was still the sum of instinct underneath all the cognitive discipline. Male or female, a subtle reminder of being attractive, aesthetically pleasing in spite of being surrounded by superficial vanity, could soften targets surprisingly well, if it was played correctly. Morinth hoped that this did the same; set the stage for what she eventually planned to act on. Really, something about a hard-bitten warrior opening up enough to show common vulnerability, coaxed to the surface regardless of how little of it was present, that sent a small thrill through her. Not too unlike the thrill she got when she saw the woman begin to approach, apparently determined to follow through on the silent offer that had been made.
The approach itself was one of confidence; it was when she saw Morinth in the flesh, without a veil of distance and shadow to cloud all the details, that she registered surprised. She hadn't expected what she saw, undoubtedly; had expected someone ugly, perhaps, or another soldier. Maybe even a rival.
"Thanks for the drink," Soldier Girl offered, once she'd gotten over her surprise. "But I have to admit-- in places like this, I'm a little suspicious of charity."
An unspoken question-- not exactly polite, but close enough. Blunt, though; that, Morinth could appreciate.
"You just looked like you could use a change of scenery," Morinth said, with that in mind, a calm smile on her face, her posture relaxed, open; kept her elbows as far from her torso as possible, to keep from looking guarded, doing little to protect vitals, giving the signal that this was a place the woman could relax. "And, just so you're not thinking it's still an act of charity-- as it turns out, I could use some company."
"The night's been that rough, has it?" Soldier Girl replied, smiling lopsidedly; an attempt at levity.
It was good to hear that, even in uncertainty, those words weren't stilted; a positive sign, if ever there was one, even if the humor was rife with implied self-deprecation. Modest.
"I could ask you the same thing," Morinth said. "You've barely spoken to anyone since you got here. Had plenty of dancers looking your way, too-- but you just passed them by."
"I take it that's not normal?"
Morinth chuckled, her smile broadening. "Says a lot about you," she said. "Most people just see the aesthetic. Don't mind a dull conversation provided they get something out of it later."
"Some of them could be great conversationalists," Soldier Girl offered dryly. "You never know until you talk to them."
"On their off-hours, maybe," Morinth replied, returning the easy smile she was offered. "It's a standard rule to keep conversation light and breezy. Apparently, onlookers don't like it when the strippers they're watching are more intelligent than they are. Changes the balance of power."
Soldier Girl paused-- and couldn't hold back an amused smile, at that. "That's really a rule here?"
"Of course. Hard to objectify someone while they're telling you about their latest paper on theoretical physics. Well... I suppose a salarian might tell you differently, but most of the clientele wouldn't."
The soldier chuckled, genuine amusement in her expression, some of that surprise sneaking back into the look in her eyes. "I suppose I hadn't looked at it that way before," she conceded. "Though, that sort of theme might be worth looking into once I retire."
"It'd be novel, at least," Morinth said, allowing her smile to broaden again; she was already going above and beyond what Soldier Girl expected. "So, what's your name, anyway?" she asked, canting her head to the side. "Mine's Morinth."
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Sheepish enough for it to be somehwere in the vicinity of the truth-- but halting enough to be a partial lie. Hadn't offered a surname, either.
"I don't get to know your last name?" Morinth asked, feigning disappointment.
"Maybe later," 'Jane' offered, smiling lopsidedly, her eyes returning to Morinth's. "There's a lot of mercs around here, and too many in earshot to make it worth outing myself."
"Sounds like there's a story behind that," Morinth said, genuinely curious. "But don't feel rushed to tell me, if you're nervous about it. It's a pleasure to meet you, regardless."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," the woman said-- again, as if not expecting to be saying it. That much, she allowed to give voice to by adding, "Like you said-- the last thing I expected when I came in here was good conversation."
-----
And that much was the god's-honest truth.
Samara had said Morinth would be charming, might even bear a family resemblance-- but the asari was sharp, intelligent, and not nearly as superficial as Shepard had assumed she'd be. More to the point, she was a dead ringer for her mother. If the ornamental plates Samara wore on her face had been present, there was some question as to whether or not the two could be told apart, provided Morinth didn't speak. Their voices and manner were disparate enough to tell the difference.
But appearances alone had worried her, to some degree. Her attraction to the matriarch was one she'd taken pains to keep under wraps-- and here, she was in a position where that attraction could be put to use. By her, and, arguably, by Morinth. As it was, even without any fancy tricks, the asari-- Ardat-Yakshi, she reminded herself-- was incredibly easy to talk to. Her manner, her demeanor, wasn't that of a seasoned killer, or of excessive vanity; she was personable, with a solid sense of humor, and wasn't at all ignorant to military matters. But even as Shepard repeated to herself the word adaptability, she had to admit: she was enjoying herself.
On the Normandy, there was so much emphasis on the mission, on dire situations that they constantly found themselves in, that casual conversation that was genuinely engaging seemed hard to come by. There was never a chance to relax, and simply talk-- save for those few moments of sharing a brandy with Chakwas.
And really, was it really such a bad thing to enjoy this?
True, they were setting Morinth up, and true, the evening was going to end badly... but for the time being, Shepard could only go with what Samara had told her. To be natural. To be up-front. To maintain Morinth's interest and, above all, to win enough favor to be taken home.
So-- there was no harm in it. Was there? Morally-- ethically-- there was. But that much, she could set aside, rationalize, Samara's words echoing through her mind every time she found herself in doubt, found herself questioning:
Nef is only one of hundreds, Shepard-- maybe thousands, with many mothers, fathers, sons and daughters to mourn their passing. Let them stand as proof that what we are doing here tonight is a matter of necessity-- remind yourself of them, if ever you find your conviction lacking.
Nef had been won over, too. Nef had been spoken to in all the right ways, given all the right cues. And while Samara had seemed to suggest that perhaps, those cues would be put upon Shepard, instead, the opposite seemed to be happening. There was no talk of art, no talk of music, or drugs, or vids... it was just simple conversation. But then, the more she drank, the more it began to tilt towards personal topics, subtle at first-- but by the time Shepard noticed that fact, they were too close to an end-game to pull back.
"I look at you and I see a lot of exhaustion," Morinth was saying gently, canting her head to the side. "Someone who could use a moment to relax, or just a moment to breathe."
"That description could apply to just about anyone in here," Shepard replied, unable to keep her natural caution from overriding her immediate agenda.
"These people know when to breathe," Morinth said. "Know relaxation's the only thing they can ask for. May not be healthy, but it's something."
Reply
"You're trained not to," Morinth replied. "And considering what you told me about some of the merc groups around here, you've got plenty of airtight reasons to keep your guard up. But it does get exhausting, doesn't it? Using the battlefield as a way to unwind, knowing that when it's gone, you'll be restless again. Looking for ways to let go."
"Take it you've got some suggestions for how to do that," Shepard said dryly, though she forced herself to keep from letting indignity get the better of her.
Didn't need to let the asari know that she'd just hit upon a sore point-- even if she seemed to know anyway.
"I do," Morinth said, smile broadening into an unspoken suggestion. "Well... Assuming you play your cards right. But the way you're going, I doubt you'll have much trouble with that."
Shepard chuckled. "The way you say it, you'd think it's already a done deal."
"Would you like it to be?"
Was that her 'in?' The invitation? Or was she reading the situation wrong? Samara had said, be up front, don't be coy... but, in the end, bluntness was the only thing Shepard could think to approach that with.
"I haven't made up my mind yet," she said gently.
"Maybe you'd like me to make it up for you," Morinth suggested, letting her voice mirror what she'd communicated previously in a look; gentle, sultry... enough to make Shepard wonder if that was the warning sign.
...Or, alternatively, wonder if she didn't in some way find the idea genuinely appealing.
"Maybe I would," she said, offering the truth in spite of her misgivings.
"Just a 'maybe?'" she opted for, training her voice to offer a note of sympathy. "I'm used to soldiers having passion-- fire. I'd hate to think someone as vibrant as you is so beaten into the ground that you've lost that... that command has gotten you so tightly wound that you can't let go of a little control sometimes."
"Like you said," Shepard replied, shrugging. "Maybe I'm just tired." She eased back in her seat, but paused before taking a drink, looking over the rim of the glass curiously, some of Morinth's words finally reaching her. Setting the glass down, she said, "Wait a minute... how did you know I was part of command?"
"You have a way about you," Morinth said, simply enough. "You met eyes with that krogan at the bar like you were used to talking down subordinates; got those turians to leave with a few simple orders. Not many people can do that. Most of the ones that try end up leaving here as a fine red mist-- but you? You walked away unscathed." A beat. Then, "And just how often do you need to be on your guard, anyway? How often do you have to keep up appearances for the people serving under you? For the people you meet here, and everywhere else?"
Too often, she wanted to say. Much as she was loathe to admit it, the questions hit home in a way she wasn't prepared for-- and that much, she was certain was coming through in her expression.
"You don't have to be that way with me, Jane," Morinth said, putting the pseudonym to use with a low, lilting tone. "And you deserve a way out. The question is-- would you take it, if I offered?" Easing in closer as Shepard took a drink of her bourbon, the asari draped an arm behind her shoulders and said, "Would you give me the chance to see what you're like when you finally unwind?" in a silken tone that was more sultry than anything she'd ever heard.
And had more of an effect than she'd anticipated.
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