(no subject)
Those who would question my loyalty will pay a price for it, even if only a meagre one. I will submit to whatever punishment is necessary.
Ask myself whether I am here for the "right reasons". How very absurd.
I am here, am I not? Has my loyalty ever wavered, since my coming here? Has there been any sign that it would? I am here. I stayed.
I am his servant, his healer, his weapon, his woman, his -- anything that he asks of me, I will do, and do gladly.
The damned woman was not even foolish enough to think to ask me to betray him. Syphon is a fool.
I pray to my gods to give me patience to suffer these fools to live.
His urinary blockage will be cleared up in about six hours. I should have sealed his idiot mouth.
<> Kitchen - Lv1
As one might expect, the Kitchen here is pretty much self-serving. Like the rest of the complex, it seems to have been dug right into the rock, and the walls of this wide room are still mostly stone. Somehow, however, electric appliances have been connected. A large, steel island dominates the center of the room, while one wall is lined with a stove, sink, counter, and dishwasher, the other possesses a table and a few chairs. Above the island hang a variety of pots and pans for any Brotherhooder who might be so inclined as to actually cook. The fridge, well-stocked, dominates most of another wall along with some cupboards and cabinets. For a room with no windows or natural lighting, the atmosphere here is oddly comfortable. Someone has even gone to the trouble to tile the floors in a nice, cream color.
Ellen paces into the kitchen at a brisk stride, dressed in charcoal slacks and pale blue blouse. Fine blonde hair is caught in an efficient twist at the nape of her neck. She makes a bee-line for the refrigerator.
Thomas looks up from his seat at the table as Ellen flies through the kitchen on the way to the refrigerator. He blinks once before pushing the rest of the Japanese noodles dangling from his face which he was eating in his mouth. He sets his fork down and grabs his bottled water from the table to sip. After clearing his mouth of food, he turns to Ellen. "You're Valkyrie, right?" He stands and moves toward her in his standard jeans and t-shirt.
Ellen cracks the refrigerator door and peers inside at its contents. A glance is cast over the top of its door towards Thomas. Her alto voice when she speaks is cool, brisk: "Indeed. You are Syphon, correct?"
Thomas smirks. "The one and only, and from what I understand that's good for all concerned." He chuckles at his own joke on himself, and sips from the water that is still in his hand. "So, Valkyrie, how is Island life working out for you?"
The tiniest of self-satisfied smirks curves Ellen's lips at the corners, the expression ghosting off her fast nearly as quickly as it appears. "Very well. Thank you." Her tone is extremely bland as she retrieves the milk carton and jam jar both from the refrigerator, nudging the door shut with one sensibly-heeled shoe. "And for yourself?" There is nothing but smooth courtesy in her words.
There is definitely something off about this woman. She's a bit different from the others on the island, neither outwardly violent or seductive, but interesting none the less. Syphon shrugs slightly and leans on a counter surface. "Not bad, if you completely ignore those turncoat bastards we used to call teammates." Wow, someone's not really into the idea of being benevolent to those who left.
"They are irrelevant. If we find them, they're dead." Ellen lifts one shoulder in a bland half-shrug, utterly unconcerned with the traitors, for the moment. She pulls a few slices of bread and a jar of peanut-butter down from various cabinets.
Thomas smiles grimly. "Are they really all that irrelevant? People that have seen the inner workings of the Brotherhood, people who know they're dead and have nothing left to lose?" Tommy shakes his head. "No, I don't think they're irrelevant. As a matter of fact, they are quite relevant, seeing as how they hold our survival like an egg on the backside of a spoon. Just the slightest push from the wrong person and our movement is there shattered on the ground." His analogy may be odd, but it does make sense. The man is now starting to turn slightly red with his frustration.
Ellen cocks a single fine blonde eyebrow at him. "Are you afraid, Syphon?" she inquires, quietly.
Thomas stares blankly at Ellen for a moment, probably from the shock of the statement and the realization of its answer. It's not an answer that he wants to give either. "What do I have to be afraid of? I have just never let a traitor walk. The last one to turn his back on me found it difficult to take his last breath around the blade of my knife." Yeah, that's it, not fear.
Ellen inclines her head to him, sharing a slow, cool blink before she joins her voice to the response. "They are fools, following a fool," she says mildly. "Their ends will come soon enough." She finishes constructing a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich and nibbles at the corner of it, utterly unconcerned.
Thomas stares at Ellen for a minute and returns to the table to grab his food. He walks back over to the counter where he was before and sets his plate down. He stares at her again. "Are you this dispassionate about everything?" Probably not the best question to ask someone you hardly know, but Tommy's not really known for his tact.
Ellen allows for quiet amusement to sneak into her composure as she settles a long stare on his face. "Dispassionate?" she asks, oh-so-mild. "Not the word I would choose."
Thomas picks up his fork and puts some noodles in his mouth, a break from speaking. He thinks as he chews his food and then rebutts. "Then what exactly would you call such cold approach?" There's got to be a game with this one. All of them have a game to play, and it's just a matter of figuring out what the rules are.
Ellen leans her elbows behind her on the counter, the closest to a relaxed posture as he is likely to see her. "Controlled."
Thomas shrugs with another mouthful of noodles. He swallows and takes a drink before continuing. "Call it what you will, but it's still something that will bother me until resolved." He finishes with his plate and walks it over to the sink. "So tell me, Valkyrie. Why did you say yes? What made you want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes?"
Ellen regards him in grave silence for a long moment. Cool as ice: "It beats serving out my term, Syphon. I assume the same is true of you."
Thomas watches carefully as he leans across from her on the counter. "You could have gone back to the real world and avoided you sentence, but you didn't. There has to be more reason than that." Is he trying to get himself hurt...again? Tommy leans back, but keeps a challenging look on his face.
"I am a weapon, Syphon. To be wielded." Ellen gives him a bare shrug, her blue-grey eyes sliding away from him as she nibbles idly at the other corner of her sandwich. Once bite is swallowed, she intones blandly, "My purpose is best served here."
Thomas nods. "I see." He takes a long drink from his water before looking at her again. "So you like being used?" Now there's a loaded question for you. His eyebrows rise at the question and he awaits her response.
Ellen's stare, as it returns to Syphon's face, is cool and blank. Unblinking, she does not otherwise reply.
Thomas stands from where he is and starts to walk to the door. Never turning back to look at her, he speaks. "Well, while you're sitting here waiting to be used, make sure not to get in the way of those of us who are proactive." She never once made a comment about the Cause, and he gave her plenty of chances. "Think about why you're here. Is it really for the right reasons?" It's a shame Tommy doesn't know about the video surveillence around the island.
Ellen is across the kitchen as swiftly as long-legged strides can take her to seize upon his bare wrist with slim, delicate fingers. All she needs, after all, is the barest second of skin-to-skin contact. "You do not question me, /boy/." The emphasis is delicate, the words as cold and harsh as iron. Or as Ellen's stare, which has not receded whatsoever. "What is good enough for him is not worth wasting air on you."
Thomas snaps his wrist down, breaking the contact with her. "You can keep your hands off of me from now on, Valkyrie." His words are just as cold and hard as hers and his eyes just as serious. "We all have a right to know the intentions of others, especially at a time like this." He backs away from her and out the door. "We /all/ do."
Ellen smiles like a knife as she paces after him into the hall, fingers laced together in their habitual clasp behind her back. "You'll want to check into visiting the infirmary shortly," she calls after him. "Assuming you want your urinary tract fully functional again."
Ask myself whether I am here for the "right reasons". How very absurd.
I am here, am I not? Has my loyalty ever wavered, since my coming here? Has there been any sign that it would? I am here. I stayed.
I am his servant, his healer, his weapon, his woman, his -- anything that he asks of me, I will do, and do gladly.
The damned woman was not even foolish enough to think to ask me to betray him. Syphon is a fool.
I pray to my gods to give me patience to suffer these fools to live.
His urinary blockage will be cleared up in about six hours. I should have sealed his idiot mouth.
<> Kitchen - Lv1
As one might expect, the Kitchen here is pretty much self-serving. Like the rest of the complex, it seems to have been dug right into the rock, and the walls of this wide room are still mostly stone. Somehow, however, electric appliances have been connected. A large, steel island dominates the center of the room, while one wall is lined with a stove, sink, counter, and dishwasher, the other possesses a table and a few chairs. Above the island hang a variety of pots and pans for any Brotherhooder who might be so inclined as to actually cook. The fridge, well-stocked, dominates most of another wall along with some cupboards and cabinets. For a room with no windows or natural lighting, the atmosphere here is oddly comfortable. Someone has even gone to the trouble to tile the floors in a nice, cream color.
Ellen paces into the kitchen at a brisk stride, dressed in charcoal slacks and pale blue blouse. Fine blonde hair is caught in an efficient twist at the nape of her neck. She makes a bee-line for the refrigerator.
Thomas looks up from his seat at the table as Ellen flies through the kitchen on the way to the refrigerator. He blinks once before pushing the rest of the Japanese noodles dangling from his face which he was eating in his mouth. He sets his fork down and grabs his bottled water from the table to sip. After clearing his mouth of food, he turns to Ellen. "You're Valkyrie, right?" He stands and moves toward her in his standard jeans and t-shirt.
Ellen cracks the refrigerator door and peers inside at its contents. A glance is cast over the top of its door towards Thomas. Her alto voice when she speaks is cool, brisk: "Indeed. You are Syphon, correct?"
Thomas smirks. "The one and only, and from what I understand that's good for all concerned." He chuckles at his own joke on himself, and sips from the water that is still in his hand. "So, Valkyrie, how is Island life working out for you?"
The tiniest of self-satisfied smirks curves Ellen's lips at the corners, the expression ghosting off her fast nearly as quickly as it appears. "Very well. Thank you." Her tone is extremely bland as she retrieves the milk carton and jam jar both from the refrigerator, nudging the door shut with one sensibly-heeled shoe. "And for yourself?" There is nothing but smooth courtesy in her words.
There is definitely something off about this woman. She's a bit different from the others on the island, neither outwardly violent or seductive, but interesting none the less. Syphon shrugs slightly and leans on a counter surface. "Not bad, if you completely ignore those turncoat bastards we used to call teammates." Wow, someone's not really into the idea of being benevolent to those who left.
"They are irrelevant. If we find them, they're dead." Ellen lifts one shoulder in a bland half-shrug, utterly unconcerned with the traitors, for the moment. She pulls a few slices of bread and a jar of peanut-butter down from various cabinets.
Thomas smiles grimly. "Are they really all that irrelevant? People that have seen the inner workings of the Brotherhood, people who know they're dead and have nothing left to lose?" Tommy shakes his head. "No, I don't think they're irrelevant. As a matter of fact, they are quite relevant, seeing as how they hold our survival like an egg on the backside of a spoon. Just the slightest push from the wrong person and our movement is there shattered on the ground." His analogy may be odd, but it does make sense. The man is now starting to turn slightly red with his frustration.
Ellen cocks a single fine blonde eyebrow at him. "Are you afraid, Syphon?" she inquires, quietly.
Thomas stares blankly at Ellen for a moment, probably from the shock of the statement and the realization of its answer. It's not an answer that he wants to give either. "What do I have to be afraid of? I have just never let a traitor walk. The last one to turn his back on me found it difficult to take his last breath around the blade of my knife." Yeah, that's it, not fear.
Ellen inclines her head to him, sharing a slow, cool blink before she joins her voice to the response. "They are fools, following a fool," she says mildly. "Their ends will come soon enough." She finishes constructing a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich and nibbles at the corner of it, utterly unconcerned.
Thomas stares at Ellen for a minute and returns to the table to grab his food. He walks back over to the counter where he was before and sets his plate down. He stares at her again. "Are you this dispassionate about everything?" Probably not the best question to ask someone you hardly know, but Tommy's not really known for his tact.
Ellen allows for quiet amusement to sneak into her composure as she settles a long stare on his face. "Dispassionate?" she asks, oh-so-mild. "Not the word I would choose."
Thomas picks up his fork and puts some noodles in his mouth, a break from speaking. He thinks as he chews his food and then rebutts. "Then what exactly would you call such cold approach?" There's got to be a game with this one. All of them have a game to play, and it's just a matter of figuring out what the rules are.
Ellen leans her elbows behind her on the counter, the closest to a relaxed posture as he is likely to see her. "Controlled."
Thomas shrugs with another mouthful of noodles. He swallows and takes a drink before continuing. "Call it what you will, but it's still something that will bother me until resolved." He finishes with his plate and walks it over to the sink. "So tell me, Valkyrie. Why did you say yes? What made you want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes?"
Ellen regards him in grave silence for a long moment. Cool as ice: "It beats serving out my term, Syphon. I assume the same is true of you."
Thomas watches carefully as he leans across from her on the counter. "You could have gone back to the real world and avoided you sentence, but you didn't. There has to be more reason than that." Is he trying to get himself hurt...again? Tommy leans back, but keeps a challenging look on his face.
"I am a weapon, Syphon. To be wielded." Ellen gives him a bare shrug, her blue-grey eyes sliding away from him as she nibbles idly at the other corner of her sandwich. Once bite is swallowed, she intones blandly, "My purpose is best served here."
Thomas nods. "I see." He takes a long drink from his water before looking at her again. "So you like being used?" Now there's a loaded question for you. His eyebrows rise at the question and he awaits her response.
Ellen's stare, as it returns to Syphon's face, is cool and blank. Unblinking, she does not otherwise reply.
Thomas stands from where he is and starts to walk to the door. Never turning back to look at her, he speaks. "Well, while you're sitting here waiting to be used, make sure not to get in the way of those of us who are proactive." She never once made a comment about the Cause, and he gave her plenty of chances. "Think about why you're here. Is it really for the right reasons?" It's a shame Tommy doesn't know about the video surveillence around the island.
Ellen is across the kitchen as swiftly as long-legged strides can take her to seize upon his bare wrist with slim, delicate fingers. All she needs, after all, is the barest second of skin-to-skin contact. "You do not question me, /boy/." The emphasis is delicate, the words as cold and harsh as iron. Or as Ellen's stare, which has not receded whatsoever. "What is good enough for him is not worth wasting air on you."
Thomas snaps his wrist down, breaking the contact with her. "You can keep your hands off of me from now on, Valkyrie." His words are just as cold and hard as hers and his eyes just as serious. "We all have a right to know the intentions of others, especially at a time like this." He backs away from her and out the door. "We /all/ do."
Ellen smiles like a knife as she paces after him into the hall, fingers laced together in their habitual clasp behind her back. "You'll want to check into visiting the infirmary shortly," she calls after him. "Assuming you want your urinary tract fully functional again."