2023-05-12: .a gentle introduction to the gentle ladY
- Log: .a gentle introduction to the gentle ladY
- Cast: Yuliana Kafim, Christina MacKenzie
- Where: The Silent Castle, Kaffeklubben Island
- Date: 2023-05-12
- Summary: Chris and Yuliana have a chat, and learn a lot about each other. Turns out Yuliana's a very sympathetic monster. Her violence is conditional, just like the tiger she keeps as a remarkably tame pet. Chris has plenty of sympathy to offer, too.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Kaffeklubben Island is the island closest to Heaven -- no, surely the North Pole -- and it is a very, VERY cold place. Ice sheets still make sea travel difficult, this far North, because not even global warming has completely defeated the cold as of yet. (Particularly not... on that one island.) But one can travel overland through Greenland -- or Area 9, as Britannia has claimed it -- and rent appropriate travel which will allow one to move through ice and icy waters.
This island was, by the books, legally purchased by a private party. The island has a sense of artifice about its edges, where the island has been reinforced against rising sea levels, but it is solid ground. Solid enough for stone walls to rise up by its edges, huge and foreboding, tipped with green crystal spires which lance up into the sky. It is a castle, and its gates are large enough to welcome war machines.
(There is a wharf for machines too large to fit; a Salamis Kai warship, outfitted with an icebreaker to let it move in these waters, is parked there.)
The Silent Castle is home to the Kafims, two of Celestial Being's... stranger agents. Travelling through outer and inner bailey into a grand welcoming hall, Chris is welcomed by a servant dressed in a grey-and-green uniform, with teal fringes on his shoulders. His eyes are dull green, and his hospitality is uncomplicated, and he shows her to a tea room and leaves her be. It's a little unsettling, perhaps, but he doesn't seem much for conversation.
The room is old-fashioned, with a large window showing the eternal sunlight outside -- this close to the Arctic, the sun will not set for months -- and draconic tapestries warming the walls. A fireplace crackles, and the room is protected by its flames with a metal grid, placed far enough out that touching it won't be immediately red hot. There are rugs on the floor to help warm one's feet, and comfortable, fine couches arranged around a table where one might place a tray of luncheons.
Really, it's quite comfortable in here, but...
Five years ago, there wasn't a castle this far North.
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Christina MacKenzie, Recruited Agent of the Private Armed Organization Known Simply as Celestial Being, hooks her foot into the Ascent Cable jutting from the edge of the Oberge's main hold. The freight shuttle's thrumming fought hard with the whipping of the icy wind, as it fought to maintain its bearing over the wharf. Chris pulled her overcoat tighter--her tan jacket underneath was simply not enough. It would have been far more convenient to come in Tristan, but...well, she hasn't worked up the heart to put her oldest friend back together again. Nor could she go to Ian--she hasn't set foot on the Ptolemy since the Palau incident a couple months ago. Which made Yuliana's invitation perhaps all the more confusing--It's the furthest Chris has been from their shared organization since her recruitment, so why now?
"MAIRO, find a safe--and free--parking spot." She gripped the cabling and engaged the winch. "I'm serious. If you get me a ticket, your sister gets to pilot a Gundam first. And monitor the usual channels!" Angry blips interrupted the triumphant WHEE-OOO of XAIRO's siren, and Chris descended.
As the Oberge left the sky, Chris was left to gaze up in awe at the elaborate domicile. She'd seen pictures of such things, back in history classes in another era. But this? In person, it had a far different feel than modern semiotics of nobility--whether the palatial mansions of a Colony's elites, or the relics left overgrown from before the Unified Century.
She makes her way, shivering, lately acclimated more to the warmth of Spain and southern Japan than to the chill of desert nights or Slavic tundra. So she's grateful for the welcome, when she's greeted. Well. Perhaps 'greeted' is too warm and organic a term... as Chris attempts to start small talk with the man, to no avail.
The warmth of the sitting room washes over her, and she suddenly is forced to doff her layers. She doesn't sit yet, standing instead by the window. In a way... the Artic 'summer' has a similar sense of timelessness as space--a star, motionless, as all the world spins around it.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
The nice thing about having a private wharf is that no one ever has to worry about getting a ticket. No pointless fines!
(MAIRO will even get help with parking when a devil-may-care fellow radios in to help out. Parminder Chaudhri, Jester In Chief, apparently doesn't see anything weird about talking a Haro through this sort of thing. He's chill. He'll even keep up conversation on the channel, if MAIRO's one to talk.)
"The Gentle Lady will see you," is what that dull-eyed man says, all the edges sanded off the words. "Please wait here." And that's all he has to say, but luckily, he doesn't stick around for her to test that theory overmuch.
Drenched in late Arctic spring... this place is uniquely timeless. There is a window seat, by the window, of course. And soon enough --
Yuliana Kafim enters, clad in a black dress, with a long black cloak falling over her shoulders and about her neck. There's a purple bracelet about her right wrist, and a wedding ring on her finger, there -- rich rose gold, set with onyx and emeralds and diamonds. (It looks rather expensive.) Her face, as well, looks remarkably human, with no hint of anything but the scars she wears there; her hair has grown back, down to her neck, with bangs to either side of her face. She is accompanied by a -- green -- tiger, who, unlike any reasonable estimation of tigers, is ambling along entirely contently and not eating anyone.
"Please don't be alarmed," Yuliana assures Chris. "This is Sokrovishche -- Sokrova, if you like -- he's our dear pet, and he just insisted on following along with me out here." She smiles, and steps forward, offering her hand to Chris to shake. "And I am Yuliana," she says, and if she does take her hand she'll find her grip to be firm without being crushing. (There are a lot of little scars not otherwise of note, on her hand. ... and her wrists, about where ports into her veins would be set.) "It's wonderful to finally have the occasion to speak with you properly. Welcome to our home. Do forgive us -- my Elisa is presently occupied, at the moment, but she would express just as much delight. Would you like some tea..?"
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Though perhaps taken by surprise, MAIRO actually does get a bit chatty; he's mostly introducing himself and his sister, and perhaps even crowing something about "Chris and XAIRO, MAIRO's partners! Chris and XAIRO, MAIRO's FAMILY!" before getting a bit too excited and devolving into rapid-fire digital burbling, as though Parminder actually understands the transmission.
Chris lingers by the window, just as distracted by the wonder of nature as by the elegant artifice of the tea room. Once footsteps harmonize with the crackling fire, Chris turns, recognizing Yuliana Kafim, ne Dispersal, who she has met a grand total of not even once. Files in a briefing, names on a roster, rageful epithets over open comms, and even once catching her eyes across the din of HaroCon, yes, but this is her first time face to face.
"Ah, it's..." A glance at her companion, and the survival instincts urge her heart a few beats faster. She belays that impulse for now. Her eyes return to Yuliana as she joins with her own hand. Her palm is callused, and the short sleeves of her compression shirt leave plenty of her own scarring visible, though from very different sources--burns and shrapnel forming more of the patterns there. "It's good to see you in good health, Kafim. I heard you recovered well, but it's good to see you with my own eyes. Thank you for the invitation to meet with you."
Her eyes flick down--not terribly far down, as 300 kilos of tiger rises a fair rippling and muscular distance from the ground. Still, Yuliana seems calm, and she is a guest here, so she nods and holds of the back of her hand out, mentally trying to file Sokrovishche as a very large...very colorful...maine coon. "Sokorovosho-...ah, forgive me, Sokrova. Does he have a preferred etiquette for his guests?" she asks Yuliana. "Please. I would appreciate that greatly. It must be hard to get tea delivered, surely."
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Parminder, who is a Surprisingly Normal Hacker, doesn't understand machine-code burbling laid out verbally like that, but he's still a pretty good sport about it. He even says "beep beep beep" right back. He's having a great time.
"It took a long time," Yuliana admits, a shade of trouble in her too-green eyes -- she doesn't have pupils any more, the one strange aspect to her she can't hide away -- as she recalls her recovery. "Hence why I wasn't much help for so long... but I'm feeling much better, now. I suppose a full recovery will take years longer, but I can't very well lock myself away that long, can I?"
She smiles, reaching a hand down to scratch at Sokrova's ears. "He's friendly," she assures her, as he gives an assuredly-friendly chuff, "but he'll listen if you'd prefer to keep your distance, really. I understand some people prefer dogs!" Yuliana laughs, entirely good-naturedly, as if her tiger is just a very, VERY large tabbycat. "But don't worry -- he's a very gentle boy. He'd not attack a guest under our roof. You understand sacred hospitality, don't you, boy? Yes you do! Yes you do!" That's the sound of Yuliana turning to squish Sokrova's cheeks and give him a rub-rub-rub as if he weren't, in fact, a literal tiger. He doesn't mind at all!
So apparently he is quite tame.
Yuliana straightens up, though, and gestures to the couches; she sits on one, leaning on an armrest, and smiles. "It is something of a trial to get supplies all the way up here, particularly through Area 9... but it's not insurmountable," she concludes, as another servant steps in. A woman, this time, still dressed in grey and green but without that teal trim on her shoulders, and eyes just as dull as the last man. She comes in with a tray of tea and biscuits, which she sets on the table and leaves.
"I... understand you were part of the group which helped save us from the Institute," Yuliana starts, delicately, as she leans over to pour a cup of tea for herself. Two cubes of sugar, obviously, stir stir stir. She leans back, and unravels one hand from the cup, to pet at Sokrova's ears as he ambles up beside her. "Let me take the opportunity to thank you for that. I'm afraid I wasn't really of the right mind to appreciate it, at the time, but... well, it's good it ended when it did."
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Though her reading is a bit baffled by the...oddities, Chris can still identify a gaze into remembrance; she's familiar with the expression both from her closest interlocutors, and from her own reflection. Sympathy and sorrow fill her own, concern mitigated by reassurance.
"I'm relieved you're through the worst of it, sounds like. Please, let me know if your constitution demands rest...As a guest, I wouldn't want to put you under strain."
"Hah, wow, you two are quite close! I'm sure he's been a great support through your recovery. Isn't that right, Sokrova?" she offers to him, with a reappraising smile.
Chris assumes a seat at the center of a couch, then takes a second look at Sokrovishche. An engineer's dimensional estimate later, she shifts over, leaving about two thirds of the couch. Just in case.
"I can imagine...the multiple borders' customs alone--ah, thank you, Miss.--must be a hefty stack of paperwork for any courier." She nods and thanks the staff warmly.
"Ah...yes. The Institute in Sri Lanka..." Her first deployment as a Celestial Being agent. Was it four lives, the sacrifices at her hands? No, it was five...That boy, who Bana- "You don't have to thank me. Your wife was asking for aid, and she ended up helping us help her. She stopped one researcher from killing more of his victims." Her fingers are tense and deliberate upon the tea saucer as she lifts it with her cup. "...I'm glad we were able to level that place. We should have erased it sooner. I only wish we'd saved...more."
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Yuliana smiles. "You're very kind," she says, and it isn't a feint or a lie. (Not that it's easy to tell; Yuliana is a good actor. But she can be genuine, sometimes.)
She laughs, though, when the conversation turns to Sokrova. "He's been a stalwart companion! He's quite the beast to hug!" He does look remarkably fluffy. And warm!
She doesn't have much to say to the servant -- at least not until after Chris feels the need to acknowledge her. "Much obliged," Yuliana adds, then, at the end of Chris's sentence. Perhaps she just wasn't interrupting Chris as she was talking? Surely that's a reasonable explanation. But Yuliana certainly notices when Chris leaves The Approximate Amount Of Space A Tiger Would Take Up, so she encourages him: "Why don't you go say hi?"
The Kafim's Therapy Cat (distinct from their Therapy Dog, who has her own things to take care of during the day, she's not obligated to stay in the Castle) subsequently ambles around the table to go stare at Chris expectantly.
But... Elisa had to ask for help, and it's touching, really, that she'd request aid of others for Yuliana's sake. She knows that her wife places so much importance on fae-tale concepts like oweing debt and keeping promises. Yuliana breathes out, in a troubled sigh, as she sips her tea. (It's green, and calming. One of the many little tricks they've tried to employ to cut down on her medications.)
"Perhaps you ought have," Yuliana frowns, "but... I'd not have spoken of it. Blame you could lay on me, I suppose, but -- coming from a place like that -- well, you understand we live double-lives as it is, working for peace as we are, so perhaps it will make sense to say I was living more than two. I would come out of the lab, and do my job, and never much think even to speak of Medical... and even when I did, it scarcely seemed more than a doctor's appointment from my accounts. Given... their indoctrination, I don't suppose I could have told the truth, but... it was a subtle enough thing that I still blame myself, sometimes."
Yuliana looks down at her teacup, and admits: "Over and again, it just felt like a choice I was making."
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
"Ah, no, I," she buffers against the compliment, "I know how easy it is to get carried away and push yourself, is all." She's not just talking about herself, either, though she's a bountiful enough example of it for a whole textbook.
"He...he does look incredibly soft..." Chris allows, taking another sip and then holding her hand out again, her [tea time etiquette] buckling and giving way to [making herself at home with peoples pets]. "Come here, then, Sokrova~" Her body still attempts to alert her when her hand brushes that notably large mouth, but it's far too late, she's put her tea on the table and is just playing with the Kitty (scalar).
Elisa's reticene is not known to Chris, scarce as the other Kafim has been since Sri Lanka, but she does have in her memory the calm reservation Elisa displayed with that SecFor detatchment--invoking Yuliana's insistence for nonlethal intervention.
Perhaps that is why Yuliana's account of her Institutionalization strikes her so hard--what she's heard of about Yuliana, in the briefings, in combat, through Elisa, and here now, it's such a tenuous network of frictions and contradictions. The augmented asset of the REA to sow discord, an agent of Celestial Being to blunt war, the merciful wife of a woman with powers Chris had never seen before or since. She listens attentively, no matter how buried her hands are in Sokrova's fur. As she follows along with the story, her eyes prick with tears.
"Kafim... I'm very glad we were able to save you, and end that place. I've lived double lives before, but I've never...been in such a situation. Where my choices were made for me. Where I was made into someone different. I can't imagine what it's like to have memories you aren't certain of. For which I'm grateful, I'm lucky. But if anyone is to blame you, Kafim, it wouldn't be me."
"It wouldn't be me. I... knowingly conducted military testing in neutral ground. In my own home colony... And brought war home with me. I wasn't even...programmed. I just went to work and came home, and all the while kept secrets that killed civilians. No Flanagan, no Titan scientists, just plain old collateral damage."
"At the lab, I saw a boy fight to make it out alive, then made to kill himself with a single sentence. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Kafim."
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"Ah, it can be like that, can't it?" They're both engineers. THEY KNOW.
Sokrova, meanwhile, knows -- enough about human language and communication to know an invitation, apparently. (Don't think too hard about that.) He sniffs and headbumps her hand, remarkably feline, and in no time he's hopped up on the couch to receive a bounty of attention. It's okay, he knows what couches he's not allowed on, and this one is fine. He's a very clever boy!! And Yuliana straight-up giggles, seeing that. Is it strange to think that Yuliana can giggle? She can absolutely giggle. "Heehee... looks like you made another friend, Sokrova! You're going to be an honourary angel, at this rate!" Is that what a Celestial Being is? Apparently.
Yuliana sighs, though, as she considers her tea. Deliberately, she reminds her to sip it, again. "Wira Ulunjandi," she completes her last thought, first, with a distant expression. "His operations weren't successful, but he had the right attitude, so they were grooming him for succession anyway. Stupid, really. They had me test against most of those wretched creatures, given what I'm capable of... it's unpleasant they'd have me turn around and do their dirty work for them, I suppose. But so long as I was in that position, I..."
Her fingers curl, around the cup. "My survival was conditional on my loyalty and utility. I suppose they led me to the conceit that if I was doing it to someone else, it wouldn't happen to me. Not that that did much to save me, as soon as I went against the State, but..." She shakes her head; she doesn't finish her sentence.
"Anyway," she says, instead, "it's not like I can much blame you for military crimes, either. I was an assassin for my country, did you know? Not in a robot, not in a fair fight... sometimes they'd not even see me. Poison, garrotte, and knife... I made people write their own suicide notes, and pull their own trigger... and you know, I was good at it. I like being good at things very much." And maybe that's because of that matter of utility, up there. ... maybe. "There's so much you can justify as doing your job. I suppose I thought I was defending my country... but none of it was defence, not really. The world just doesn't see the REA move, when it strikes. You know, I figured it out, later, looking over the documents -- they released me back to the Institute at the exact time the world was focused on that damn space laser they set up to cook Earth. They wanted to sneak it through when everyone was distracted. That's just like them!"
Sokrova, having sensed the hard conversation, has taken it upon himself to rest his big ol' head in Chris's lap. He's heavy, but he's not ENTIRELY lying on her, so she's probably fine.
Yuliana makes herself take another sip. "It's... unfair, the things the military asks. I'm sorry to hear you were caught up in that machine, just the same."
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Indeed, they've both also been Veto'd out of reckless combat by others. And almost certainly they've been made by someone else to eat a Real Meal(tm) every now and again. They're truly both engineers.
"Oh ~no~, Kitty kitty cuddly friend," she croons. "You even match the decor! Or maybe the decor matches you~"
Chris's hands in that vibrant fur halt upon hearing the boy's name, though. His full name, not Permanence's agonized screech. She resumes petting when Sokrova nudges his head up under her palm. "Your survival...I don't know if they even thought of it that way... Ah, I'm sorry, it's strange to say this to the very person. I read some of the docs during a debriefing, I don't think they even thought of you as alive or dead, just...asset or liability. Like a drill bit, or like a busted heat sink--when it breaks down and hurts you, you discard it..."
She thought of the others. The other Yuliana lookalikes, in those tubes. "Kafim, you're right, that it wouldn't happen to you while you're doing it to someone else...Your dirty work is the only reason you survived." Should she says she's glad? It feels...a little chilling to say that, given what she read--and what Yuliana confirms...
"Are robots a fair fight? Back in -200 B.U.C., when soldiers fought, a couple people died. Now... When soldiers fight, city blocks are flattened." The rest is...perhaps things she's heard during relief work in the REA, but... It's a little more visceral than she prefers to engage. As it is... she can't imagine the burden of having that much blood on her hands. And the idea that she could become inured to it...is perhaps worse, in her mind.
"Damn it, you're right... They timed it...just how much notice did they have? How far did they plan? A government built on sleight of hand and stoking violence..." she trails off as Sokrova applies his weight judiciously. It doesn't bother Chris. He's way more comfortable than cement, and cuter, too! "--Sorry, mister. I got worked up." She stops and removes one hand from the tiger to sip her cooling tea. She falls silent, Yuliana's condolences landing deep. "Thank you. How much they took from you, I know you understand. Damn them... It's hard to believe that a machine that big can change. But..." Three young faces rose into her mind. "But I think we've got to set an example for the next generation. Somehow. Even if they're already tangled up in it... even if it's not a fair fight. Yuliana," she says, addressing her with her first name for the first time, connected now through some terrible burdens, "Do you have anyone you'd entrust the future to?"
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"Isn't he a darling shade?" Yuliana enthused, during Tiger Cuddling Hour. "There's not a tiger in the world like him! He's our special boy!" Sokrova, The Most Special Boy, chuffs happily at the attention. Yuliana is many things, but it seems that amongst them, she suffers from cat proximity just like anyone else.
Unfortunately, cat proximity can't solve everything.
There's something haunted, in Yuliana's eyes, as Chris likens their attitude towards her to failed supplies. "I'd get so upset when people called me a tool... but it was the fact of the matter. After they threw me under the bus at Torrington, it really started coming out... Major Pham said I was little more than an instrument of the Republic. Something humanity had created... he said the world wouldn't accept me as a woman, these days. Hah... maybe he was right, especially now," she huffs, leaning back against the couch and looking up to the chandelier that doesn't have to work hard to illuminate the room, with the Arctic sun shining out of that generous window.
(It would be kinder, wouldn't it, to say something like 'if only she knew about those clones in their tubes'? But it just isn't true. The documentation made that clear. They exposed her to them deliberately. She... didn't take it well. She doesn't think of it now, though; she is not the sort of person to steal Chris's thoughts from her head. For her, it's impossible.)
She pauses, for a moment, before she adds: "You know, I ended that conversation saying I was out of line..? I'm ashamed, but I'm disinclined to keep their secrets now." Her too-green eyes shut, for a moment. "Fighting dirty did keep me alive, but they made a mistake when they made a saboteur of me. They're all going down... I've already begun."
Yuliana smiles, briefly, glancing down sidelong. "Have you seen all the chatter on the feeds about how those Orbital Ring acquisitions are really the Federation consolidating their power under corporate figureheads, so their heads of state don't have to be answerable to the people any more? It's all a fabrication, of course, but a story like that makes it remarkably easy to sow distrust of one's nation." It's also tapping into the conspiratorial underbelly of humanity, but that's the nature of a dirty bomb, apparently.
And oh, her blood remembers just how incorrect Chris is, about the civility of ancient war.
But her brain does not recall tales passed down eightscore less five years prior.
The old demons are lost to us. The stories died, and she did, too.
So she laughs, when Chris points out that robots don't really make for fair combat, but there's no humour to it, this time, a raw and ragged thing. "Yes, I suppose that's yet more propaganda, isn't it? Strange how you live your life immersed in such things, and scarcely bother to examine them at all. It's true my methods do invoke less collateral damage, on the whole." It is visceral -- it is horrible -- and she speaks of it at that same distant remove, as if she's reflecting on the state of the weather or some abstract philosophical question. "Though the cost of failure is grave. I had a..." friend, "there was a person they tested me with in Medical, once, who they traded away because I fucked up a job. It was too politically inconvenient to admit that kind of violence, so..." More distant still, she says: "She ended up with a fate worse than death, I suppose. It shouldn't really bother me... it was me or her. But as things are now, I'll never be able to... well, it's not like I need to say anything, anyway." Her eyes blink shut. "I just wish she'd stop trying. She looks so stupid trying to speak with a Gundam's hands. You know how stilted that sounds?"
The insults she's saying can't quite cover up the thread of pain which has wormed it way through the numbness of her throat. It shouldn't bother her, she says, but it clearly does.
She sighs, orienting back in Sokrova, as he rumbles tigerish concern in Chris's lap. He has such BIG, SOULFUL yellow eyes. Apparently all the green went into his coat, instead, whatever that means. "I don't think they had advance notice, is the thing," she says, "though our squad wasn't Intelligence, so I can't say for sure. But that's... the ethos, in the Republic. Capitalising on an opening. Exploiting mistakes. It's how I convinced them not to junk me, when my experiment failed... you'll not see much talk of it as an outsider, but it's baked into the country, I assure you. The guiding hand of the Republic grasps at all opportunities." And it shaped her into such an opportunistic woman. "You're right, though -- they love to stoke a fire, then blame someone else for lighting it. I mentioned Torrington, yes? As it happens, they never sent me there to save anyone." Her lips curl back, in a sneer. "They knew the fever pitch of psychic activity would drive me mad. The whole point was for me to upset those Zeon devils and make them do more damage... and then they got upset that I'd upset them too blatantly! Though I was almost crushed to paste, and all those civilian outfits too, besides! So I couldn't stop it, and Torrington needed aid... I don't know if the REA ever managed to capitalise on that, as the good neighbours they made themselves out to be. I embarrassed them quite thoroughly, back then." It's a matter of public record, if Chris goes back in the media reporting. Yuliana was placed on administrative leave in order to undergo counselling to address her negative feelings about Zeon.
(One can imagine what 'counselling' was code for. If it's any consolation, Elisa made sure that round of brainwashing never happened. If it had, would Yuliana have been able to act out like she did, later..?)
Yuliana shakes her head, and tries to smile with a little less deathly humour about it. Well, she makes an attempt. It's easier hearing her name like that, anyway. "But you're right, of course," she agrees. "You know, I'm rather fond of children..? Unfortunately, an officer can't really get around working with child soldiers, even leaving Medical aside, but... it's dirty business. Adults should fight adult wars." She sips at her tea, again. It's cooling, but that's fine. "As for the future..."
She considers the tea. "I've no love free for Britannia, but there's a young Britannian woman with a bright future ahead her -- Milly Ashford, do you know her? I'm sure she'll do very well for herself, in time. And of course, there's our own little princess... Liu Mei's still rather occupied with her youth, but I think it's a mistake to dismiss her so easily. And there's little Shari, of course -- Shari Loom, excuse me. A touch strange, but she's a lovely girl. She'd best not come to harm." And there's a little dimming flicker of the light, in her eyes, as she says it, all the stars stolen from her eyes. It's gone a moment later.
Completely unrelated.
She blinks; she glances aside, to the fireplace, thinking for a moment. "Leina Ashta and Banagher Links... they're in over their heads, right now. But they're kind enough, considering their circumstances... they're people I'll have to fix the future for, but once I've done the work, surely they'll have an impressive path ahead of them. It would be... nice, if their future was brighter than this." Yuliana sighs, with a rueful smile. "Ahh, but I lose my temper with them so much... they won't accept my help at all." Banagher looked so betrayed, when he lost his own temper in their outreach meeting. He didn't understand what she was trying to achieve at all! But after a moment of scowling, she allows: "Maybe I'm being unfair... I shouldn't give up on them just because the Republic made me such a harsh woman. It's not so easy to change something they designed in a decade prior, I suppose." Her grudge against Newtypes, that is. There's a reason she can't quite bring herself to afford Leina and Banagher the same shining future she does to Liu Mei and Milly and -- surely Shari fits in one of those categories, and not the other.
Anyway.
She thinks of it, it makes her uncomfortable, and she launches into another point immediately. "But perhaps I'll have my own children to entrust things to, soon. Do be discreet, but we've been trying to have one, you know?" Apparently, Devi's notes about Yuliana's aspirations to motherhood weren't just horrific mockery from a horrific woman. "We've had no success yet, but there's still plenty of things to try! It will mean I'll have to scale operations back again a while -- I'm sure I've plenty enough enemies who would love a chance to stab me with my guard compromised -- but that's not so bad, you know." Her smile grows warmer, as she contemplates her ring. "It's... nice, out here. It's quiet. My wife and I can spend so much time together... it would be irresponsible of me to retire, when I can put this world to rights, but I won't say it hasn't been lovely to focus inwards so much lately." And for a moment she is lost in her own thoughts -- whatever those are! -- gazing down at those fine jewels.
Yuliana looks back up, to Chris, with her best attempt at a supportive smile under the circumstances. "But I assure you, the machines will change," she tells her, more beatific, more sure of herself. And now she's used her name, it doesn't feel so transgressive to return the favour, minding her manners for once: "I promise you that, Chris. We will see peace and equality for all mankind in our lifetime. Because I don't fight fair, and I know how to take all those opportunities, too. With my dearest Elisa's support at my back, there's nothing I can't do." And certainly she is trying to be reassuring, saying it. But...
She's taking a lot of responsibility onto her own shoulders, isn't she?
Maybe that's just part and parcel of engineering work.
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Chris fusses the big cat affectionately. Sokrova's green hues are at once energizing and soothing, a family of tints Chris associates both with the vibrant gaze of a Gundam, and the green of grass and cropland, looking painted onto the 'sky' opposite her back in Ribo. Growing up in an O'Neill cylinder, it was a terribly strange childhood lesson to learn that, no, seeing the ground wrap around you had been a bizarre notion for most of human history.
"Something humanity had created... That the world wouldn't accept you... Even if you were, why shouldn't humanity accept what it creates?!" To have come this far in technology, in space, and still be so cruel to each other... of course it was upsetting.
"Making a saboteur of you..." The cool acceptance of her abilities; it felt much like Sokrova here--one capable of great violence, conditionally. Even knowing that it was not directed at her... That simply didn't erase the tingle up her spine that acknowledges a predator. "Yes, I'm sure they'll regret it. I only hope the people at the top face their fair share of consequences." From there... Well, it would be dishonest to say there was no vengeful streak in her, no dark lines she declined to acknowledge that she might cross. But she can elect to ignore it, if she cannot deny it outright.
"I admit, I don't keep up with many social multimedias..." Chris you sound way older than you are, sheesh. "Sowing distrust... of ones nation?" she repeats, a quiet murmur of thought. Truthfully, that sounds like it would cause more collateral damage, not less, but... Perhaps not the time, when the follow-up is so...so raw and pained. No matter how blase the tone, it's a consequence that never leaves you. You simply try to keep the memory numb. "A fate worse than death, but you wish she'd stop trying? Is she...fighting?" Speaking with a Gundam's... Could she be talking about...No, Elpeo would be too young, wouldn't they? "What should she do? Die?" She's reluctant to be so direct in a first meeting, but being unable to find her own answer, it's...hard to stop herself from asking.
With the Neo Zeon child soldiers already on her mind, it's even easier to see Christina's teeth grit as opportunism and scapegoating come into the focus. Still, talk of the future is easier than the past.
"Milly Ashford, Liu Mei Wang, and Shari Loom... I'll have to keep an eye out, if you think they're worth watching over." Liu Mei, too, lived a double life alongside both of them. And for that woman, Chris was sure there was more than just the two. She seems quite confused though, at the concept of someone losing temper with those two young trailblazers. "Leina and Banagher? They're both too kind...They hardly give themselves a chance to breathe before they dive back in. And neither of them are especially prone to asking for help." She's crossing her own double lives here. Did Chris realize she slipped? There was something about the comforts of this room, and the casual familiarity of the agent, that made it easy to forget.
"Sometimes it's...necessary. To take a step back and question what you want." A gentle, nurturing smile, one from the young woman she was more than the recluse she is, is offered. "I wish you and your wife luck and hope. I'm looking forward to congratulating you two. You've both been through quite a lot...to claim your happiness here."
"In our lifetime? I can't believe that's possible...but I'm glad you do. We can't...let the future be written by all the Vists out there, by cozy administrators that send children to fight.
"Adults should fight adult wars. And the people that choose to send soldiers to die..." Her voice trails off.
She mustn't finish that sentence, mustn't voice those thoughts that have been roiling. Maybe it's the flippancy in Yuliana's account, that she can blame for its encroachment. ...But she's not capable of such dishonesty. It's the same thought that had plagued her since she learned the truth in '87. It needed no speech to grasp her, however. Being scrawled on so many blueprint margins--in notebooks in a deeply buried Anaheim-branded crate--was enough. ("The people that choose to send soldiers to die should never be safe from the sorrow of war.")
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"'God help us,'" Yuliana echoes, a shade hopelessly. "That's what he said. As if they'd created something too terrible even for them... that's why I wouldn't be accepted, I suppose. I was just... a monster..." And it hurt, clearly, though she doesn't say as much in her trailing words.
Quieter: "... but it's all right. My Elisa assured me being human wasn't so important, anyway... I'm better, this way. I'm a miracle... I'm her miracle. A human couldn't do what I do..."
... it's supportive, isn't it?
And surely it's reassuring to hear: "My target is the Chairman," Jie Bo Lao, authoritarian ruler of the REA, "and those like him. I will steal their support from under them. The people long to stop dying for another man's war... they need only the support to realise it." That is a common thread, in her -- motivational meetings. She encourages those who attend to the Silent Calling to value themselves as more than meat for another man's grinder.
She sighs, though, looking away. "She's already dead," Yuliana says, of -- not Elpeo, though it's a reasonable guess. "She should just-- stop running. If she'd just let us help, we could restore her unmoored mind to physical form again, before it's too late..." But her voice goes strained, and she shakes her head.
Strained, as well, when she finally says: "... too kind? Yes, I suppose so. Really... I don't understand it. I don't know why they'd... why me? I'm a vicious, spiteful woman, I don't --" deserve it? Whatever she was going to say, she can't bring herself to finish the sentence, all wound up like a twisted tree. (It's better if she chokes it down.)
But she calms herself, to focus on something nicer. "Yes... luck, and hope... thank you, Chris. If you can't believe in that, then please believe in us... I'll fight with my own two hands for that equality. No one -- no one will be left behind any more..."
It's a complicated sort of thing, but apparently, so is she.
<Pose Tracker> Christina MacKenzie has posed.
Chris gently strokes Sokrovishche's fur, as if it were a sublimation of the urge to reach out and prove that there is acceptance, proof Pham was wrong. She doesn't reach out, however, and sips her tea. It isn't...her wound to heal.
She nods. "It was the peoples' tolerance of the Titans that let them act boldly. Just like any tall structure...without the foundation and its struts, it all collapses." She thinks back to a recent chat she had, over a bowl of ramen. "The tricky part is making sure the building doesn't collapse with the people still inside..."
Already dead...? But her mind is intact, that sounds like...yet another Newtype, another victim of institutes like Devi's?
"Is that..." --possible?-- "...wise?"
Chris shrugs with a resigned sigh as Yuliana seems to struggle with those two and their caring natures. "I can't always make heads or tails of it myself, but...they try so hard to understand others, at their own cost. Even a cynical old maid like me can't help but be inspired. And from what I hear, it's nothing to do with Newtypes... That's just who they've always been." There's...a trace of a strange emotion in there. Maybe it's hard to identify, but it could even go by the name 'envy'.
"I appreciate that, Yuliana." Kafim's own two hands... She thinks of how long it's been since she last poured concrete. Since she last built something. Last really helped people. "You're right. Wallowing like this isn't like me. This world has enough people being left behind. I... I've got to get my own hands dirty, too." She means that in a very literal, VERY different way from its other use.
She finds herself at the dregs of her tea, feeling remarkably at ease. "This tea is wonderful... Is this a special blend? I wouldn't mind having some in my pantry for the harder days..." What pantry? Sayla's pantry is a real pantry. Chris's pantry is more like a bulkhead compartment stuffed with carefully-sorted packets in the compartments of a tool organizer. "I'm glad you invited me here. We will have to talk again, perhaps when your Elisa is less busy and I hope you have good news for me then!" She buries her face against Sokrova's head, enjoying the fluff. Clearly, she's acclimated to the presence of both the deadly predators in the room. "And I'll have to bring something special for you, too!"
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"I don't know," Yuliana says, of Rita Bernal, and she's lost to say it. Why does she care so much about a Newtype like her..? When she's already dead...
It would be easier, wouldn't it, if she said that out loud? Said how much she cared for Rita's fate, instead of leaving it to signs in the tea-leaves?
If it weren't so obscure, the way she sighs with vague regret, "... the way they've always been, huh..."
Does she feel bad? Does it bother her? She'll ask Elisa, later. She'll know what to do.
But she shakes her head, and assures Chris, when she talks about dirtying her hands: "You can do it. I can tell you're a strong woman... and true. If ever you need aid, please don't hesitate to call." It's an honest offer, even. And not even just for getting her hands dirty in that way! Yuliana's mechanical skill is focused on wanzers, but there are some parts which are transferrable.
She smiles, looking down at the tealeaves at the bottom of her cup. "I believe it's made with lavender, peppermint, and chamomile," she says, warmly. "Since my Elisa helped me reduce my medicine usage to a more reasonable lot, my mood's been rather all over the place, so we thought things like this might help. It is quite nice, isn't it?" And then she turns her smile backup, to Chris. "I'm glad you were willing to come. I was a little worried... no, I'm worrying too much," she decides, shaking her head. Celestial Being has no reason to hate her, surely.
"Yes, please do come another time! Though --" Yuliana laughs, as she looks down to the tiger still entirely eating up all that attention. "I hate to tell you, but no matter what you bring, dear Sokrova will be twice as fascinated by the box in which it came!"
And so, Chris learns the most valuable lesson of all:
No matter the size, all cats love boxes.