Maketh Tua (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mismanagement) wrote2016-01-25 02:02 pm
mismanagement) wrote2016-01-25 02:02 pm
Entry tags:
IC Contact Post [Hadriel]
This is Maketh Tua. State your business.
They're not as hot as people think. [Maketh leans back in her chair.] Sometimes it gets so cold that you see frost on the sand. Those are good nights. That means it could rain. Everything is sand and rocks. But you can see for miles. Sometimes the air shimmers with the heat. It can make you see things. But it's beautiful in its own way.
[Henry is, in fact, one of those people, so her words are of great interest. He tries to imagine what she describes, the fondness in her voice in mind. He sets down his mug.]
It sounds to be.
It sounds to be.
I hated it as a child. [Maketh shakes her head almost fondly at the memory.] Barely anything we grew ever survived, and we could go months without seeing anyone else. I read about all these planets that had oceans and green things, and each time I learned about a new one, I tried to convince my parents to go.
[They'd always humored her. Perhaps they'd regretted it she finally decided to leave without them.]
It's strange. I miss it sometimes. Not--all of it. But the sky at night. You could see the stars so clearly. I miss that.
[They'd always humored her. Perhaps they'd regretted it she finally decided to leave without them.]
It's strange. I miss it sometimes. Not--all of it. But the sky at night. You could see the stars so clearly. I miss that.
[When Maketh awakens one morning, she will find a small basket next to her bed. Nestled in it is a softly glowing lavender sphere. It sits atop a short note that simply says: For protecting the innocent. Crush the sphere to receive your power. Upon breaking the sphere, she will receive Hope's blessing.]
[It's barely after "dawn" when Henry contacts Maketh -- exceptional circumstances aside, the very latest that he wakes up is 6 am. He has clearly just rolled out of bed: his hair is mussed and he still bears a trace indentation on his cheek from the crease of his pillow. He is dressed in the loose top and trousers he wore to sleep, and he sits on the floor at the foot of his bed. His covers remain a thrown off heap behind him, yet to be tidied.
Henry's expression is bemused.]
Maketh. Look at this.
[He points his camera at a small basket, in which sits a softly glowing lavender sphere. The note that once sat beneath it is propped against it; he read it before calling her.]
Henry's expression is bemused.]
Maketh. Look at this.
[He points his camera at a small basket, in which sits a softly glowing lavender sphere. The note that once sat beneath it is propped against it; he read it before calling her.]
[Henry gives Maketh a surprised look.]
Your... whole planet had no oceans or green places? 'Tis a wonder that you did not starve.
[Yet he understands her sentiment about the stars. Light pollution is not an issue in his time. As he takes up both pairs of pliers again to resume removing rings, he idly asks:]
Seemed the stars different to you when you were in the firmament?
Your... whole planet had no oceans or green places? 'Tis a wonder that you did not starve.
[Yet he understands her sentiment about the stars. Light pollution is not an issue in his time. As he takes up both pairs of pliers again to resume removing rings, he idly asks:]
Seemed the stars different to you when you were in the firmament?
[This is one of the few times when Maketh has actually given in and gotten some sleep. She answers the phone in bed, hair down, and covered by blankets. She rubs her eyes and smiles.]
I see.
[She tips her camera towards her own.]
Do you think it's a trick?
I see.
[She tips her camera towards her own.]
Do you think it's a trick?
[Maketh nods.] We nearly did, a few times. But the people were stubborn.
[It had made them strong, though in quiet ways. She tips her head to the side.] Firmament?
[It had made them strong, though in quiet ways. She tips her head to the side.] Firmament?
[Maketh too. Confirmation, then, that this is in response to the guard. Henry considers her question for a few seconds before he shakes his head slowly.]
...'Twould be an awfully intricate and uncertain means when the gods may directly afflict us.
[He picks up the sphere, turning it in his grip thoughtfully with no small amount of temptation.]
To what end?
...'Twould be an awfully intricate and uncertain means when the gods may directly afflict us.
[He picks up the sphere, turning it in his grip thoughtfully with no small amount of temptation.]
To what end?
Something is coming.
[Maketh rubs her face, still fuzzy from sleep.] The last time this was done was--the wendigos, I believe.
[The gods must know something they don't.]
[Maketh rubs her face, still fuzzy from sleep.] The last time this was done was--the wendigos, I believe.
[The gods must know something they don't.]
[Henry briefly frowns at the thought of a young Maketh facing the very real peril of starvation because of nothing more than living on barren land. Yet she evidently survived it, so he says no more of it. What right has he, of noble birth and privilege? Instead, he answers her question.]
The farthest skies wherein reside the stars.
[Space is not yet a fully-rounded concept in his time, nor is it named such for another few hundred years. The views of the universe in his time are quite something.
Henry removes the last of the cut rings, and repositions his haubergeon so that the hole in the back shoulder is flat before him, ready to be fixed.]
The farthest skies wherein reside the stars.
[Space is not yet a fully-rounded concept in his time, nor is it named such for another few hundred years. The views of the universe in his time are quite something.
Henry removes the last of the cut rings, and repositions his haubergeon so that the hole in the back shoulder is flat before him, ready to be fixed.]
Edited 2016-06-14 19:28 (UTC)
Oh. We call it space. [Maketh leans back in her chair. it's hard for her to imagine someone living only on a single planet, never once going up in the sky. How strange her world must seem to him.] It's beautiful. Things look so different up close. I wish I could show you what the stars look like.
Be that so?
[It's not a comforting thought, but it does make sense. He frowns a moment, before the corners of his mouth lift as he really takes in the video feed.]
Did I wake thee? We could reconvene for breakfast in... hm. Let us say three hours...?
[It's not a comforting thought, but it does make sense. He frowns a moment, before the corners of his mouth lift as he really takes in the video feed.]
Did I wake thee? We could reconvene for breakfast in... hm. Let us say three hours...?
'Tis a pity that you cannot.
[Henry, wielding the pliers, picks up an open ring and slips it into place on his haubergeon, making sure that it leans in the correct direction. He then closes the opening, and keeps hold of it with one set of pliers.]
This may work best if you seal the rings as I weave them in.
[Henry, wielding the pliers, picks up an open ring and slips it into place on his haubergeon, making sure that it leans in the correct direction. He then closes the opening, and keeps hold of it with one set of pliers.]
This may work best if you seal the rings as I weave them in.
I'm awake now. [Maketh rubs her eyes.] Your apartment, then?
[If only she had her data pad. It's burnt beyond recognition now, tucked into one of her drawers in case its parts might prove useful later on. Maketh nods, leaning in closer.] All right. Show me first?
My apartment.
[Henry agrees, returning the sphere to the basket before he ends the feed.]
[Henry agrees, returning the sphere to the basket before he ends the feed.]
[Henry nods, then pauses, narrowing his eyes critically. He is, regretfully, no blacksmith.]
On second thought.
[He opens up the ring again and frees it.]
If you heat the ring here where the ends are open, then I shall weave it in and close it.
[That likely makes the most sense, given the present limitations. It's hardly as though they have the supplies, tools or skill to wedge rivet mail. So, welded.]
These must be done one at a time, I fear.
[This would be a horribly dull task without the company.]
On second thought.
[He opens up the ring again and frees it.]
If you heat the ring here where the ends are open, then I shall weave it in and close it.
[That likely makes the most sense, given the present limitations. It's hardly as though they have the supplies, tools or skill to wedge rivet mail. So, welded.]
These must be done one at a time, I fear.
[This would be a horribly dull task without the company.]
[Maketh wastes no time with dressing and arrives promptly at Henry's door in under fifteen minutes. Punctuality was encouraged in the Academy. She comes with some instant coffee in her bag, though, because this conversation - or whatever else ensues - will require her full attention. Lack of sleep has been catching up with her.
She knocks on the door, hair pinned up in a severe bun.]
She knocks on the door, hair pinned up in a severe bun.]
All right. [It seems a simple enough procedure, though regrettably tedious. Nonetheless, it must be done. She will not see Henry without proper armor.
She tugs on a pair of gloves and activates the iron, waiting until it steams.] Ready now?
She tugs on a pair of gloves and activates the iron, waiting until it steams.] Ready now?
[Henry opens the door and lets Maketh in. He is dressed in hose and a shirt of obvious medieval origin; neatly stitched repairs to the latter make it clear that these are what he wears beneath his layers of armour. He's just about finished laying out a modest breakfast spread on the kitchen table. All that is missing is a bowl of water for washing one's hands.]
Take a seat where you will.
[His own chair is half pulled out. On top of the table nearby waits his basket containing Hope's blessing.]
Take a seat where you will.
[His own chair is half pulled out. On top of the table nearby waits his basket containing Hope's blessing.]
Hello, Henry.
[As always, he's quick to answer the door. Maketh steps in, carrying her bag. Inside it she has the basket holding Hope's latest overture. She's not certain it can be called a gift.] Do you mind if I make some coffee? It helps me focus.
[As always, he's quick to answer the door. Maketh steps in, carrying her bag. Inside it she has the basket holding Hope's latest overture. She's not certain it can be called a gift.] Do you mind if I make some coffee? It helps me focus.
I would hardly keep you from that which bestows your vigour. [He replies, amused.] Henceforth treat my apartment as yours.
[Henry closes the door behind her, then heads into the kitchen to pour out a bowl of water. He sets it down on the table before he takes a seat there to await her.]
[Henry closes the door behind her, then heads into the kitchen to pour out a bowl of water. He sets it down on the table before he takes a seat there to await her.]
[Henry nods, holding the ring aloft with the pliers and eyeing the tool with mild interest.]
Ready.
[He confirms.]
Ready.
[He confirms.]
[There's no point in stalling, so Maketh presses the iron against the ring. It's less dangerous than a blow torch, but requires a steady hand. It doesn't take long for the metal to begin to change colors.] There.
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