In which Nero is way too confused

[omnicidalmaniac]

Who: Nero, Shinzon, and open!
What: Nero wants some answers. A lot of answers.
When: Early evening, the day he arrives.
Where: The library on level five.
Warnings: One angry Romulan and one Romulan-raised human who hates Romulans. Shaken, not stirred, and potentially violent.

Comments

[voiceshall_echo]

Since his fight with Shego, Shinzon had taken to carrying the rock shard he'd brought back from the island in a pocket of his coat. It was infinitely more comforting, walking the barge with an easily reached weapon - though he would have preferred actual knives, there was nothing to be done.

Of course, there was the risk that it would be discovered. Shinzon was aware that the first use would likely be its last; so it was there was a precaution, a veritable last resort. Something for a special occasion.

It was boredom that brought him to the library; curiosity for the paper books, wondering if it was possible to download some of them to his PADD. He had hoped to find some solitude there, but of course that was too much to hope for, eveno n a ship this side. Shinzon barely glanced at the man pouring through those volumes - and, having approached on the side of his bitten ear, remained unaware of just what he was.

"Looking for something?" He drawled the question, sarcasm thick. Shinzon wasn't above driving someone away to have his

[omnicidalmaniac]

"Some explanation of what this place is," Nero said, looking up from his book. He'd never actually seen a picture of Shinzon, though he'd know him by name if he heard it--all he did know was that he was being addressed by a (probably young, with humans it was hard to tell) human male in a coat that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Narada. Indeed, but for the lack of tattoos and, you know, the whole human thing, the man wouldn't have looked out of place among Nero's apparently now-dead crew.

He snapped his book shut, exasperated and growing more so by the minute. "Are we dead, here?" How did I get here? Why? Who brought me? He wasn't going to ask too many questions right out; that just wasn't how the game worked, if you were Romulan. You watched, you waited, you picked things up on the sly, but there were a few things he wanted to know now, dammit.

[voiceshall_echo]

No, that wasn't how the game worked at all. Shinzon pressed his lips together tightly, glancing at the tattooed man from the corner of his eye as he pretended to peruse a shelf of books. "We are. It is a ship for lost souls, or so some of the wardens like to say. We are here to be redeemed, remade, changed, whatever foolish term you wish to assign it." He muttered a Reman curse, lip curling.

"You are the first I've seen that hasn't whined his confusion to the better part of the ship's community." Another glance, and Shinzon took in the style of his clothes curiously, head cocking to the side. "What is your stardate?" It couldn't hurt to ask.

[omnicidalmaniac]

He snorted. "Redeemed?" he muttered. There was no redemption for him, at least--he knew that much, even if he was sure of nothing else anymore. He'd already been remade once, when Romulus burned; he didn't think that, dead or alive, he could do it again. Not unless it meant he could actually find Mandana, but he'd reserve any judgment on that until he knew more.

He dropped the book in disgust. "Dead is dead," he said. "If we are dead, the rest is...irrelevant." It was almost...refreshing, in a way, to know that right at that moment there was absolutely nothing that needed his attention. "And my stardate...I went from 2387 to 2233, and died in 2258." Time travel. He didn't know why the Federation had even bothered with that Temporal Prime Directive of theirs. "What was yours?" And where were you from? Once again, though, not something he was about to ask aloud. Yet.