hexarchate_rpg | Chapter 3.1: The party begins

EDIT: The base is sited in the year 951, in a very odd timeline that has NO h*archate. Supplies have to be brought in via rift from other timelines. Thread here.

Ashari's new base features variable layout, which has been put to use in creating an extravagant ballroom. Tables to one side boast a variety of foods, drinks both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and the occasional euphoric drugs. Candlevines glow blue and violet, and flower arrangements interspersed with fantastic sculptures of lace-woven wire adorn the tables. The arrangements mean various sarcastic things, if you're familiar with the Andan petal language.

Music plays softly enough not to overwhelm conversation, loudly enough to set a mood complementing the low-key lighting.

Remi is one of the first arrivals from the Cantata, shepherding the mothlings. Because he's a Nirai, he has a slate and is taking notes, although he is happy enough to talk to anyone who approaches him.

The kitchen is currently adjacent to the ballroom. Ashari's voice can be heard, raised in some kind of argument with...a caterer?

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Hana is not particularly enthused about a party, but she does make a beeline for the recreational drug table. She asks the grid a few questions about the euphorics before placing one under her tongue and slipping a few more into a hidden pocket. She complements this with tossing back something alcoholic, too-sweet, too-sharp, that feels like it kicks her uvula on the way down. While she's self medicating, she's scanning the room and looking at the others somewhat warily. She nods at Sulen, enough not to come off as impolite, and waits impatiently for the euphoric to kick in.

[The last time she was scryed, her signifier represented a protective personality leaning more toward the education side of the Vidona's purview than punishing heretics. Perhaps something like Stingray Hovering, or a new one like Stingray Guarding Clutch. Now, however, Hana's signifier is Stingray Washed Up.]

Sulen approaches Hana, and says, "Tziri Hana?" They bow to her. "Aricura Sulen, executive officer of the Cantata. Welcome to the crew."

Hana's signifier is ringing alarm bells, but they're comfortingly familiar alarm bells. Sulen has dealt with a fair number of troublesome Vidona.

[I'm thinking Sulen has read a very abridged summary of Hana's resume and has gotten some wrong ideas about her career path- assumes that like themself, she joined a faction out of sincere belief, or perhaps ambition, and later became disillusioned.]

Hana regards Sulen for a moment before bowing in return. She remembers a list of names and minimal - very minimal - information about the crew she'd be joining and recognizes Sulen's name and rank, if nothing else. "Good to meet you, Aricura Sulen." Which isn't - well, it's not going to be a lie, as soon as the drugs kick in and she doesn't feel like the party and social interaction is going to set her teeth on edge.

At the same time, she can count on one hand the number of adults she'd interacted with over the years who weren't Vidona or in the Vidona's clutches, so part of her obvious discomfort is at least mitigated over relief at being around normal adults. She smiles, feeling the euphoric fizz away under her tongue. "Thank you for the welcome. It's... good to be here."

[That totally makes sense and is not something Hana is likely to correct unless it directly comes up. She doesn't really want to talk about the Vidona.]

Well, Sulen supposes it's good that somebody is pleased about being on the Cantata. They hope the sentiment lasts.

They're finding it a little offensive to their sensibilities to be interacting with so many obviously intoxicated people at what is, technically, a work function. They've enjoyed themself at plenty of Andan parties, but they were never there to work. At least not officially.

"Have you been on the station long?"

Edited 2020-01-12 03:25 (UTC)

Considering where she'd just come from, Hana has a hard time imagining that she wouldn't be pleased about being just about anywhere. The vacuum of space would be awful, likely. The middle of a sun is no good. But the Cantata? Why not? Might as well exist somewhere.

If it helps Sulen's sensibilities, the intoxication has not yet kicked in for Hana. (And if it helps Hana's defense, she isn't the one who provided all the intoxicants to begin with.)

"Not very long at all, no. A... week, I think. I was unconscious for the first bit of it," she says apologetically, and makes no further move to explain herself.

"I can relate to confusion with time," Sulen says, and offers a very small smile. "My introduction to this enterprise began with a crash landing, a concussion, and an interrogation, within the same hour. Travel through rifts can be unpleasant."

There's room there for Hana to share her own story, but equally an option for her to offer condolences and move on.

Hana pauses, surprised at Sulen's response. "An interrogation?" she finally asks. Someone had asked her questions, she thinks, but an interrogation hadn't been on the table. Subtly she looks Sulen over. "Where are you from?"

Ah. This could be awkward, but the current team had been surprisingly nonchalant once Sulen's background had finally come up, and, well, a former Vidona is unlikely to be in a good position to judge.

"The year 835 of the heptarchate calendar," they say. "There are a large number of rifts in that year. I was part of a hept assigned to seeking out members of the rebellion. They had good reason not to trust me, when I betrayed my faction and came to them."

They still have a drink in their hand, and if everyone else is partaking, perhaps it's only sensible to follow suit.

It's not as though Hana has any place to judge whatsoever when it comes to life choices. "What faction are - were you part of?"

She finds herself curious about Sulen's story, more than she's been curious about anything but immediate survival for some time. She knows, intellectually, that she's come to this strange new dimension and her old life is essentially gone, but it's one thing to know and another to understand.

That’s the biggest surprise so far- the idea of being seen and not immediately identified as the thing they’ve been for most of their life.

“Rahal,” they say, and drain their glass. “I was an inquisitor. Part of a hept- but I suppose in your time we worked in... hexes. Did you ever work with one?” They are curious, they realize, about what the Rahal became, without the Liozh. Without them, cut off from their community, not changing with it.

"Not up close, no. I started off as a teacher. I wasn't, ah, with the Vidona for long." She watches how swiftly Sulen downs their drink and picks up another from the table, offering it with a raised eyebrow. "Most of my life I just kept my head down and tried not to make trouble."

The euphoric might be kicking in, she thinks; at this rate she might get positively chatty with Sulen.

Chapter 3.1: The party begins

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