salon

[in_extremis]

WHO: Esteemed, invited guests (everyone).
WHERE: The greenhouse
WHAT: A party! And not the kind of crime that the Agrii commit. Come show them how it is done.
WHEN: During a very long and slow space trip.
WARNINGS: Mark your threads if you get into trouble.


pre-festivity...network?
[Over the shipwide broadcast system that everyone is lucky Tony has not made more liberal use of, accompanied by gently dimming lights as though signalling intermission was coming to an end, and Act II was about to begin.]

Your attention, please. Please give me attention. You're not doing anything important, I know you aren't, so if you would kindly make your way to the quote-unquote 'Green Room', the rest of us are waiting for you.

Wear something that makes you feel delectable.

[Did he have to say it like that? Of course, he's trying to set a mood.]

the event
The atmosphere of the Green Room, which had at other times been a battleground, and a quiet resting place, was what could be called a soiree. Some of it was magic, brought to brief reality by Billy to disappear as the get together came to an end like carriages into pumpkins as their clock ran out, and other things were altogether different kinds of illusions. Like the tree Cayde had worked to fell, hauled up off of the ground to brace in the branches overhead, its dying boughs slouching down toward the ground in winding tendrils that were strung with glittering lights, a fragrant curtain around the area conveniently cleared by the destruction of the tree to give plenty of room to pull a partner into a dance. The music, naggingly familiar to those who called Earth home but distinctly synthetic, was playing through the broadcast system, loudest near the clearing and progressively softer the further away from this hub, but continuous throughout the ship until it felt like a whisper from another room at the farthest points like the cargo bay.

The noise competed slightly with the raucous beckoning of the karaoke machine installed near one end of the Green Room. This corner felt like it hadn't quite received the dress code, dotted with balloons and nearest to what could be described as a sundae bar, with what looked like all of the right textures for a very indulgent ice cream experience. The Agrii were more than happy to help with the food, so be prepared for a less obvious flavour profile.

More (potentially?) savoury options were offered throughout the Green Room, in no centralized location but spread across tables that had obviously be borrowed and dragged from throughout the ship, flanked by equally mismatched seating, flat-enough surfaces, or piles of linens and pillows where the ground was less even. Some of these tables had a datapad left on them, locked to a curious list that could only be checked off and not otherwise tampered with, at least for those not particularly technically inclined. Each item seemed to describe a person, all following a similar format in various levels of complexity, starting simple with, 'Someone with hazel eyes...'

One of these datapads, on a table tucked under a heavy lattice of vines and under the drape of what looked like approximately 40 metres of a sheer silk, started the evening much more blank, only marked at the top with a bold WHAT WE KNOW. That was a broad statement. Surely, everyone had a little of something to contribute to an article like that.

Comments

[plate_builder]

"It would not hurt at all, so far as we can tell. There are those who have been here in excess of a year who have yet to see any negative repercussions. But you will have to wait for Temba for that."

Of course, he can't help but cringe at the observation. He hadn't wanted the data point. He'd effectively been forced into it by friends.

"I myself have been a guest for eight months."

[on_repeat]

Eight months. More than a year? "That long?" Echo sounds astonished, almost in disbelief as he reins it back in. "And here I am, just getting in."

But most of what he's learning about the ship and the Agrii and Temba are coming from those who may have been here longer to gather and store that information, so it makes sense to take Reeve's advice.

"Waiting for Temba it is," he seems to repeat, nodding as he shifts his gaze from the Engineer to the ice cream again. "Until then, what do you recommend here, Reeve?"

[plate_builder]

“There are often those just getting in,” Reeve answers, because as strange as it sounds, it is absolutely believable that someone should just be joining them now. The question was how. The Agrii clearly didn’t seem responsible.

But what he recommends is... Definitely a good question.

“At this moment in time, relax. Enjoy yourself. Meet your fellows. If it doesn’t have four arms, it will be in Temba with us. The Agrii themselves cannot come down to the surface.”

[on_repeat]

"So it's always like this?" Echo asks, but it's half-rhetorical in his open wondering. "Everyone gets picked up from wherever, whenever they came from and then dropped here?" This at least gives a clue that he's had this much introduced to him earlier, but there's just a lot of confirming to do.

But Reeve still gives him sound advice. Especially that part about the Agrii. "Is there a reason as to why the Agrii can't go to the surface, or is that still an unknown? And also what is all this cold stuff?"

[plate_builder]

Always? No, not really. But Reeve isn't certain quite how to explain it.

"Technically not here, but yes, mostly correct. The specific place tends to be in the Fountain Square in the ruined city of Temba. There is a datapoint there that explains this to some degree. But when we return I am happy to show you around."

Oh, the why, yes, it really was important people got that datapoint, wasn't it?

"There are storms on Temba. Our fellows find it can inhibit their powers. But for the Agrii it can be fatal. They abandoned their home a long time ago. And the cold stuff is a sweet treat, sundaes. Or nearly that. Sort of like ice cream, but the Agrii don't really have the production down.

[on_repeat]

Echo nods, filing that point away for later. "That would be great. I wouldn't mind that at all, Reeve."

Looks like the datapoints can't fully be avoided. He'll just have to see how it goes from there.

"Ice cream. Never had anything like it." Wait, that isn't the important part. Well it still kind of is, but storms, he needs to ask about the storms. "How can a storm become fatal? And if it inhibits powers...how is it even a storm?"

[plate_builder]

Well, at least he can be helpful to someone when he gets back planetside. That would be pleasant.

But the lack of familiarity with ice cream meant that Reeve had to fix that. Now. Post haste. Faster even. He begins to demonstrate how to create a wonderful sundae.

"I'm not certain. The ways that I'm trained in scientific thinking don't mean that I'm very good at understanding it. And the Agrii themselves do not understand so the datapoints are not useful in that situation. What we know is that supposedly our purpose here is to solve this question for them."

[on_repeat]

Clone sees, clone does? Echo watches the Engineer craft the finest sundae, intent on copying it to some extent once he gets his hands on a bowl. In comparison, his will come out less than perfect; scooping is trickier than it looks.

Although he frowns more at the conundrum of the storms than at his ice cream handiwork. "It looks like we're doing most of the work around here," he says, glancing at Reeve. "Not that that's a problem – I just think it's strange there are so many unknowns. The lack of information has a hand in the lack of understanding."

[plate_builder]

"We are. And they are not providing the gifts they once did," Reeve agrees. It's... frustrating to say the least.

But yes, the lack of knowledge has been frustrating to Reeve. He glowers at his own food.

"It seems the Agrii have not been on their world for a long time, and have forgotten much. They are not... the sharpest tools in the shed."

[on_repeat]

"Gifts? What kind of gifts?"

Echo tries his best to not press the questions on Reeve. Observing the man's frustration, he nods, sighing as he rests his now-filled sundae bowl on the counter. "Ah. With that as context, it starts to make a lot more sense now."

[plate_builder]

"Once we could ask things from them, and they would provide. But they were... Complicated. Ask for paper and it might be wrapping paper. Ask for blankets and it might be space blankets. It was all complicated."

And disappointing. But this place was less of a mess than it was when he had first arrived.

[on_repeat]

"And nothing too useful," the ARC Trooper assumes, taking a second to break the seal of his helmet so that he can pull it off. The expression he wears appears slightly annoyed with the puzzlement over how these gifts manifested.

"You're right about it being complicated. Have any of you figured out how to use these technical flaws to your advantage?"

[plate_builder]

“Oh no, things were often useful. But never quite what you wanted,” Reeve corrects. The creatures were just difficult like that.

And there was Reeve, certain this was not Mando. The man never took his helmet off. never would.

“Not yet. I am not certain that it is the best idea to expect to find a way to manipulate them. We have reason to believe they are not the true power we struggle against.”

[on_repeat]

Now that his face is visible, the read on his understanding of the clarification is, well, clear. And not hidden. "Those are some specifications," he murmurs, absently placing the sundae-loaded spoon into his mouth.

...Excuse him for a moment as he tries to figure out what he just ate. He just knows it's cold and slightly soft.

"...Then we continue to try to work with what we have," he says between light lip smacks, sticking the spoon into another color. "And whatever this true power thing is, I hope we can figure it out." If it's possible.

[plate_builder]

The sundae is amazing, do please enjoy it. Reeve would be sad otherwise.

"Exactly. If I might ask, are there skills you bring from home that you wish to offer in assistance? I was an engineer at home, for instance, and I'm working to try and get power up throughout the city."

[on_repeat]

He doesn't hate it, at least? There's just a lot going on that he's not used to having. Like flavor, for instance.

"Yeah, I may be of some help," Echo answers after his second bite, still working that out after swallowing it down. "Primarily I'm a soldier and most of what I do is suited for an active battlefield, but my training also covers aspects aboard a cruiser or in a station. Small repairs, strategic planning, problem solving.

"At this point, I'm not exactly sure what needs to be done on Temba. But if anyone needs an extra hand, I'll do my best to help where I can."

[plate_builder]

Flavor is a good thing. Accept it. There will be more in life.

"We'll always need more hands. The city needs work. Some don't care to help the Agrii. Some do it only for their own comfort. Either way we need to do something."

[on_repeat]

Oh he's trying. He's trying his best.

"It wouldn't be right to leave them helpless," Echo says, the aftertaste of peanut butter still fresh on his palette. "I'd be ready to start whenever we get back. And is this supposed to taste this way?" That last part indicates the sundae again, spoon and all.

[plate_builder]

No, it wouldn't. And Reeve didn't want them to have nothing when they could come back to their world. That would be as cruel as not helping them. It was a mess.

Reeve? Reeve liked to pick up the pieces after the mess.

"No. Ice cream should taste different. It should have any number of other flavors. But peanut butter is nice."