hexarchate_rpg | Chapter 3.1: The party begins

yhlee posting in

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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

yhlee

"Adult moths are used in certain timelines as the biological components of our ships," Remi said. His voice is taut: suppressed anger. "These are little ones--we're not sure what their growth rate is."

The mothling notices Xiulan's hand, orbits it twice, makes as if to land.

From:

mafyyil

Mafyyil has dressed up for the party, too: a surprisingly tasteful simple sleeveless moss green dress and matching slippers. She wears her hair in a braid today, interwoven with the peonies growing out of her shoulder and arm. Even the bright pink hairclips in the shape of tiny combine harvesters are unusually inoffensive. She does wear her shoulder holster holding her gun over the dress, but that was to be expected.

Intimidated by the commotion in the kitchen, Mafyyil - who had been planning to find something to eat but thought better of it - decides to say hello to the mothlings instead. Mothlings are cute, after all. And there are new people to meet!

"Hello Remi", she says, smiling brightly. "How are the mothlings today?" She also hums a short melody in the general direction of the mothling near Xiulan's hand in greeting. (She hopes her offkey humming is not too painful for the moths.) "Hello Ione. And hello new person!" She musters Xiulan openly. "I'm Zagfehan Mafyyil, poet. I'd shake hands except there seems to be a mothling in the way."

From:

yhlee

"The mothlings are doing well," Remi replies with a polite half-bow. Several of them hum back at Mafyyil, harmonizing with each other.

From:

mafyyil

Quickly, Mafyyil hums a few notes at every mothling present, ending with the one in Remi's hair. She resists the urge to double-check her own hair for stray entangled mothlings and absentmindedly notes that the rhythm of the mothlings' greeting would make a nice pattern for a poem. She shelves that thought; she doesn't have time for writing right now.

Mafyyil doesn't bother to inquire about Remi's wellbeing: Remi looks upset, as always when the topic is moths-used-as-transportation. She unsuccessfully tries to peek at Remi's notes, wondering why anyone would work even at a party. "Can you understand what they're saying?", she asks instead, thinking that when music-talking at moths she wouldn't want to accidentally insult anyone's mom or anything.

From:

yhlee

Remi smiles and relaxes a little. "I'm moderately good at music, but my ear isn't quite up to their harmonies," he says. "There's a grid program--mostly Alaric's work--that translates for us. The little ones are mostly babbling and experimenting with their, ah, voices." He squints at his slate. "For example, that last bit was pulsar, pulsar, loud, pulsar, whirl, let's whirl."

From:

hoardingpearls

Reshad chooses the largest cluster of people when she comes in.

The space is beautiful, candlevines and all, and the addition of the mothlings adds a playful air. The presence of intoxicants on the buffet would alarm her far more if they were in danger of mothling mischief, but she's never seen a mothling take an interest in such things.

She takes note: the new woman sharply dressed, the more familiar crew members.

She greets Remi with a compliment for his 'hat' and Mafyyil, Ione and the black-clad woman, with an appreciative glance for her earrings. "Welcome! I'm Reshad. I suppose I'm a field operative." Her faction name no longer applies; her familial name seems irrelevant, so the personal alone will have to do.

[Reshad is a smallish woman with rounded cheekbones and a slim frame. Her skin is medium tan, and her eyes are very dark. Elaborate eyeshadow in shades of gold and green makes that more obvious than usual.

She's wearing an emerald green robe patterned in gold, with a black sash; a sharp observer may see the black cuff of a bodysuit beneath the bright silk. Her hair is twisted into an updo and decorated with filigreed flowers. Her hairpins are fringed with golden beads and their tips are concealed in black metal finials.

Her signifier is Ninefox Smiling.

Edit: sorry, cross-posted!]

From:

stormglass

It doesn’t look like a butterfly, but nevertheless Xiulan thinks of one as a mothling circles above her hand in an speculative way. There is something deliberate rather than reflexive to the way she uncurls her fingers further from her palm to allow a sufficient landing zone.

”Adult moths are used in certain timelines as the biological components of our ships.”

She looks back at Remi, noting his tone. “I’m guessing they didn’t volunteer for that,” she says quietly.

Mafyyil’s appearance - both the event of it and the elements - forestalls a further question. The pistol she takes note of, but the flowers are truly what take a moment to process. They’re attached.

“I’m Xiulan,” she replies. “Pleased to meet you.”

There’s a lot to take in, what with the successive revelations of the sentient ship components, people with flowers growing out of them, a musical language and, here we go, another introduction. She introduces herself to Reshad in turn.

“Do the moths interact with pulsars somehow?” she asks of the group at large. Clearly the mothlings are not a surprise to any of them. “Or, electromagnetism in general?”

[What does a mothling feel like?:D]

From:

hoardingpearls

Belatedly, Reshad hums in imitation of the nearest mothling, with a smile in case they've started to figure out facial expressions. Clever little ones, they are.

"Are we particularly near a pulsar?" she asks, leaving Xiulan's question to the expert - which is to say, to Remi.

Edited Date: 2020-01-10 11:36 pm (UTC)

From:

mafyyil

"I'd love a copy of that program", Mafyyil blurts. "Is a pulsar talking to the moths?" (She has only a very vague idea of what pulsars are; all that her memory supplies her with is Something Astronomy Something. Needless to say, she had failed most of her science classes.)

She smiles and nods at Reshad, thinking she really likes that hairstyle.

From:

hoardingpearls

"I helped Remi with some experiments," Reshad says to Xiulan, with a nod to the Nirai. They were his exoeriments, after all. "Trying to understand their sensory abilities and better communicate with them. They're bright children." This with a smile, although she studies Xiulan's response to the statement including mothlings with the group in a protected role.

"But it seems that while colors are difficult, they have some astonishing senses! And they do sing, as you've heard."

A return smile for Mafyyil: the baffling Hafn girl has done so rarely enough that it's worth noting.

"Poet, did you say?" As they're on the same crew, this ignorance would make sense on a larger ship. As it is, Reshad thinks, her only excuse is busyness.

From:

mafyyil

"Yes", Mafyyil replies, sounding slightly surprised: why else would she have been considered worthy enough to be sent on this kind of holy mission, if not for her achievements in poetry? "I write about legumes, mostly." (She doesn't add that somehow her poem cycle addressing the coagulation of tofu sounds off in the High Language and she will have to revise the translation quite a lot. That's going to stay her secret.)

From:

rugessnome

[I'm not so certain Shess shares this interest, but I am delighted by the idea of legume poetry!]

From:

mafyyil

[A shame; there should be more legume poetry. Mafyyil's masterpiece up to date is "Ode to Soy". It's so, uh, good (even by Hafn standards) it got Mafyyil assigned to flying-casket-thingy.]

From:

yhlee

Remi says absently, "There's a pulsar about fifty light-years away, stable as these things go. Mafyyil, if you want a copy of the translation program, I can load it onto your slate. If Sasha thinks it's advisable security-wise, anyway."

The mothlings are eager to shake tentacles with anyone who's receptive. Their skin feels cool, shadowy, and not entirely substantial.

From:

stormglass

There's a dissonance to the way the mothling feels compared to what her eyes show her; she realizes it as she glances away and then back. It's not unpleasant, but it is unique. She puts her other hand up toward the undulating tentacles and finds herself receiving a 'handshake' of sorts. Not even having had any of the drugs from the buffet, she obligingly bobs her hand up and down a little in reciprocation. Because why not.

"I'm interested in hearing more about that," Xiulan replies to Reshad. Her general demenaour continues to project cordialness, though the shrewdness that flashed in her gaze before has remained. She appears genuinely interested in what Reshad and Remi have to share about the mothlings. Her attention roves during it however, eyes flicking whenever someone else enters the room, Eddox, Seyli, and Jedao each getting a quick twice over upon appearance. It seems reflexive.

The Nirai's comment about a pulsar being fifty light years causes her eyes to flare a little, eye-makeup making it a little more obvious than it might otherwise have been. "Impressive."

The revelation of Mafyyil's artistic pursuit particulars is...yet another thing left out of the briefing materials. "Do you write propaganda poetry for the rebellion?" she asks the Hafn. It is, for intents and purposes, a question in serious garb.

And to everyone nearby again, "Are all space-faring vessels called moths regardless or does it always imply the presence of a biological moth?"

[I have a coworker who was in the Secret Service years ago and eating at a restaurant in an airport with him once was an experience. I have never met anyone else in person who so reflexively checked out every movement in the vicinity. Xiulan is probably not being QUITE that bad about it. Maybe.]

From:

mafyyil

"Propaganda?" Mafyyil is confused for a moment - her native language doesn't have a word for the concept. (They have propaganda, of course; it's just so pervasive it's generally not named.) She internally translates propaganda as motivational poetry, which is something she generally approves of. "Of course", she says. "The one I recently wrote, Glorious Harvest of Lupin Beans, is especially suited for that!"

From:

bariolage

Ione is not going to giggle. Ione is not going to giggle. Ione is -- smiling.

(She is also trying to see if a mothling can figure out fist-bumps. Not that they have fists, but she will take a tentacle-bump to the fist.)

"Is it about a harvest of lupin beans, or is it a metaphor?"

From:

yhlee

One of the mothlings settles on Ione's finger and latches onto the tip, wriggling its tentacles semaphore-style. It hums happily, and doesn't seem to realize it's supposed to let go.

From:

hoardingpearls

"I'm interested in hearing more about that,"

"The fieldwork?" Reshad smiles at Xiulan. "Or the moths?" Possibly, the answer is both, but she's curious which takes priority for the moment. Then again, the presence of curious, interactive mothlings may bias the situation.

Ione asks the obvious question of Mafyyil before she can, and she nods, clearly interested. "And - have you written anything for more general distribution?"

"Are all space-faring vessels called moths regardless or does it always imply the presence of a biological moth?"

"All Hexarchate vessels have a biological moth," Reshad replies. "Hafn vessels..." Her eyes rest on Mafyyil for a moment, opaque. "I'm unclear on Hafn design parameters." There's an undertone to her voice, a subtle discomfort.

Ione's interaction with the mothling makes her smile. "Here-" she wiggles fingers at the mothling, then raises a fist to Ione to bump. "Maybe if we demonstrate?"

From:

bariolage

Ione, meanwhile, is charmed, and wiggles her free fingers back at her new attached friend: "This is kind of like interliked jazz hands, which is also a great secret handshake skill," she says with a grin, but gives Reshad a nod and bumps the offered fist.

Then offers a high-five.

Covering it all in the background of poetry discussion. Ione is humming, too, because she can't help but make musical sounds around the mothlings, even if she can't produce enough chords at once.

From:

stormglass

The fieldwork? Or the moths?"

“Both. Even odds at this point, as to which I’ve heard less about.” She gives a wry smile and shrug. “Both sound relevant. But, we should have time to talk more later, right?”

Xiulan watches the reactions of Ione, Reshad, and Remi, as much as she listens to Mafyyil’s answer about the poetry. The former advises her own - for the moment - and she instead says, “Not sure I’ve had any of that kind.”

She may have, Before. But ‘lupin’ isn’t ringing any bells in the language here; she’s had plenty of other vocabulary to apply herself to the past few years without poring over exhaustive lists of bean culitivars.

Mention that Mafyyil is Hafn returns her attention to the girl. “I haven’t read much about Hafn ships. Do you know what sort of exotics they use?”

To Ione: “Is humming part of communicating with the mothlings? Or, do they just like it?”

[Unsure if Ione would pick this up under the circumstances given her shields and such, but while Xiulan seems near-perfectly casual and polite on the surface right now, underneath, it’s a lot more intense.]

Edited (OOC note for Ione) Date: 2020-01-14 04:57 pm (UTC)

From:

hoardingpearls

"This is kind of like interlinked jazz hands, which is also a great secret handshake skill,"

Reshad laughs at that. "They're so wiggly, it might be hard to keep up." She wiggles her fingers with no shortage of dexterity and gives the high five to Ione, then presents a hand to the mothling to see if it would like a try.

"But, we should have time to talk more later, right?”

"We should. I can fill you in once we're moving." The quality of Xiulan's alertness catches her eye, rapid motions corresponding very nearly one to one with the movements of people around her, and her own interest is undeniably piqued. "Well! Remi would be the better about moths, or Alaric." She indicates him slicing into an elaborate cake. "But I have some experience beyond this team. And you?"

She listens in curiosity for Mafyyil's answer. Recent occasion to think over what a poet could do for the rebellion has given her ideas.

From:

mafyyil

Mafyyil has been pondering Ione's question for a while: she's not entirely sure what metaphorical lupin bean harvest is supposed to be. However, it does sound like a fascinating poetic concept. She's intrigued. "Maybe I've been neglecting the metaphorical side of things a bit, she admits. She smiles at Reshad. "I have an idea. I'd be happy to provide the rebellion with poems about the more metaphysical aspects and ideas of peas, if you think that might appeal to a wider audience."

But at least she understands Hafn space vessels... intimately! Nodding to Xiulan, she adds "where I'm from, movement of vessels in space is driven by the human striving for perfection by adding other aspects of nature. For example, as you can see, I've been made more complete by adding plant to human." Proudly, Mafyyil points at her peonies. She omits the kangaroo because she's still not entirely sure what personal failing of hers made it fall off. "Progress means perfection." She remembers that catchy phrase well from, well, propaganda-that's-not-referred-to-as-propaganda. It's amazing how nice it sounds even translated into a barbarian language!

[Mafyyil has absolutely no idea about the technical specifics. I don't think anyone tells the important stuff to the, basically, human sacrifice...]

From:

bariolage

Mafyyil's peonies have always been quite lovely to Ione, and she can't help but smile at them whenever it seems to come up. Plant-people are so interesting, after all, even if she's getting the impression that the Hafn are ... a little strange.

Nobody is going to bring up the kangaroo.

"Metaphor can be fun. And yes," This is for Xiulan again, "I'm not the expert, that's Remi, and then Alaric and Sasha are also quite good with them, but I like them a lot -- music is part of how they communicate. I think the vacillating may also be ... not linguistic exactly, but communicative kind of like a dog's tail."

Do these people know what dogs are, Ione is suddenly not sure. She hasn't seen a hexarchate space dog.

From:

stormglass

“I’m happy to talk about moths with whoever knows something, particularly the experts,” Xiulan replies to Reshad and Ione, flashing a smile at Remi as she says it. It’s very clear he’s regarded as said expert by his colleagues. And after a thoughtful pause, asks, “The mothlings here...are they the offspring of the Cantata’s moth?”

The more she thinks about the overall situation and implications, the more questions gather. But. It’s a party. She tries to keep that in mind. Make a list for later.

”But I have some experience beyond this team. And you?"

“I’ve never seen mothlings before today,” she deadpans, then give a small grin. “But experiences other than that, yes. You could call it fieldwork as well. Largely a combination of intelligence and special forces type ops combined.” One hand waves at the floor as general indicator of the base. “As for this base, I’ve only been here for a week. Nothing much going on. Yet.”

She nods to what Ione says about dog tails, clearly not at all confused by reference to dogs themselves.

”Where I'm from, movement of vessels in space is driven by the human striving for perfection by adding other aspects of nature.”

The earlier revelation about moths hadn’t hit as hard, but it certainly paved the way for this admission to spread in her skull like an electric jolt. Her expression goes immobile, a counterpoint fighting to constrain an emotional ricochet inside. She thinks of being very small and not understanding and—

Focus.

“Ah. I really do have a lot to learn about the Hafn.”

A few more moments, an adequate conversational lull. A last pat to the mothling that has continued to orbit vaguely in her area. “Good meeting everyone. I look forward to those future conversations. But I should go continue with the introductions I guess.”

With a smile and a gesture to the rest of the room, Xiulan withdraws from the little group. She doesn’t actually immediately proceed toward another of the crew though, but weaves her way around various conversations to arrive at where drinks are laid out. After a moment of debate, she picks up a glass of water, peering down at the top.

[Heh, an unsuspecting shot right in the backstory! Nice aim, Mafyyil;)

In case there was a Rahal scrying at the time: her signifier went from Ninefox Eyes in the Dark to Ashhawk Banked and wanders its way back to the original as she’s at the drinks table.]