2023-10-11: .seeking the truth beyond authoritarian grasP
- Log: .seeking the truth beyond authoritarian grasP
- Cast: Yuliana Kafim, Milly Ashford
- Where: Sisimiut, Area 9
- Date: 2023-10-11
- Summary: Yuliana dead drops some supplies for another Celestial Being cell, and Milly encounters her while she's lingering in Area 9. Yuliana speaks with her about the history of the place once known as Greenland, before Milly moves the conversation to something closer to home: the intent behind the Silent Calling. It's a question with some grief behind it, though Yuliana manages to give her an answer -- before she flees from the telling.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Area 9, The Area Formerly Known As Greenland, is surely blessed by ice faeries.
This is to say: it's Heckin' Cold Out. Currently, the temperature in Sisimiut is sitting at a balmy two degrees Celcius -- or, as the Britannians would have them say it, 35.6F -- which would have been a high temperature, a few hundred years ago, but is today entirely average. It is, right now, even today; the sun will be setting at six, but here, just shy of one-thirty pm, it's high noon.
Sisimiut is one of the largest trading centres of the country, which, even under the Britannian's development... still isn't saying much. Area 9, even with all this global warming, is far too cold for most people to settle here. But they're one of the major providers of Arctic fish to the world, as one of the few places still cold enough for the snow to struggle with melting, and Sisimiut's fishing industry is a huge boon to Area 9's status.
There are, incidentally, also youth here who need education. While there are various technical schools and a high school operating nearby, Sisimiut is too small to have a university of its own; young men and women who wish to pursue higher education used to have to travel to the capital, Nuuk. Of course, these days (under glorious Britannian rule!), 9s can petition to access Britannian universities, and this is a major source of Naturalisation for the youth as up-and-coming 9s seek to live up to their potentials.
Those who wish to keep themselves to themselves, of course, more and more fall into the habits of the fishery, or take up technical trades which allow them to stay closer to home. Home is vital, to so many of the people living in what is now Area 9; they have lived here for untold years, and will live here after the colonisers grow weary.
So the story goes.
Aishah Strand, an occasional visitor, is -- by all accounts of her papers -- a Malay-Greenlandic woman, who, by virtue of occupation, has become a Naturalised Britannian. She's from a smaller village, but she comes by, occasionally, to buy supplies or post letters or see people in (what passes for) the city.
This is, of course, all a lie.
That's just Yuliana, and she's not a Malay woman, but she doesn't hold Britannia in nearly enough esteem to think they'd be able to tell.
Her papers are convincing enough to let her move, though, and move she does. This is positively a milk run, as far as tasks for Celestial Being go -- a dead drop of materials from their cell to another, here at the end of the world. She drops her backpack where she sits on a bench, and then, when she rises to walk away, forgets to take it with her. Someone will be by to fetch it, soon.
It's not her problem. Walking down the shore, with the piers hosting those ships and their wicked icebreakers across the bow, Yuliana watches the fishermen pass over their catches through her dark sunglasses. She wears a fine Orenburg shawl, and the grey fabric is a clear indicator to anyone who's gone across the waterway to the REA that she's not poor; it's a bright spot, against her dark coat and trousers, though her overcoat has some lovely green accents.
She stops in at a cafe on the shore, trying its best to appeal to tourists even as most of its clientele are sailors; she orders some tea and biscuits, and nibbles on them, as she sits outside the establishment under a too-fancy umbrella.
She notes that it doesn't seem she's being followed, today.
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
For Milly Ashford, who has had the good fortune to live in climates ranging from 'pretty temperate' to 'hot without being miserably hot' all her life, this is a change. She is quite bundled up to come here -- she is wearing a lot more, frankly, than some of the locals, because if she doesn't she's going to freeze.
She settles in at the cafe, and she looks unassumingly like any other tourist who might happen to visit Area 9. Evidently, if they're drawing in clients like her -- who buys the most expensive tea they've got, and a somewhat expensive helping of lumpfish roe. (It used to be cheaper! But the habitable area has gotten smaller...)
Settling in behind Yuliana, Milly takes a few bites and muses, "Hm. Salty," before starting to speak in earnest. "It's been a while. How have you been?" She has questions for Yuliana -- lots of them, actually, given she's familiar with her... recent online presence. On the other hand, that isn't exactly friendly conversation, and she still considers Yuliana a friend, overall. ... a very sketchy friend, but Yuliana has been good to her...
After giving Yuliana a few seconds to answer how she is, though, she follows up with, "And how's married life treating you?" It's been almost a year since that fateful wedding, and, well -- it's a valid curiosity!
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Okay, status update: she hasn't been followed by operatives.
Yuliana does notice Milly coming in, even all rugged up as she is; she scoots her chair out, just slightly, so she can glance behind her without straining anything. "Mm," she says, facing back forward to nibble on another biscuit, "it's been... a touch tense, Barrikada," and she names her the revolutionary barricade, in all the echoes of the Soviet Union, "but... I am well. As you are, I hope?"
She smiles, when the topic comes to her favourite thing, sipping at her tea. "Very well," she says, warmly. "You know, my darling zhenushka," her wife, texturally fond, "she attended me for nearly three days of slumber, when I succumbed recently... if not for her diligence, I'd surely die, you know." Yuliana takes another long sip, and sighs, happily. "She even dealt with those awful men from the Federation when they kept demanding and demanding... really, where would I be without her!" A beat, "I'm fortunate I don't have to ponder such a wretched thing." Yuliana can be quite assured of that.
"What brings you out this way, mm?" She asks, glancing back again, sidelong.
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
"Mmhmm. I've been keeping busy since the last time I took Coup de Foudre out," Milly answers her; she doesn't see any reason to lie. "I was pretty impressed with it. The Brave Police clearly saw it as an outsize threat, but it held up even in a situation like that." That their plan was largely unsuccessful isn't a reason to take it out on Yuliana, whose incredible work is the reason it didn't go worse.
Processing the nickname is a little weird, but not unobjectionable; she's no stranger to giving nicknames herself, but having it reversed is a little bit surprising. 'Barrikada,' 'barricade'... she doesn't get the historical context on this one, but neither does she over-mind it.
"Three days?" She doesn't ask what Yuliana succumbed to -- there are many options, with Yuliana, and it's best not to pry too deeply in a relationship such as this -- but that is really worrying to hear. "That's very kind of your wife, though..."
She's asked why she's here, and she pauses for a moment. "... I thought I'd get a glimpse of an older Area," she answers, after a little thought about how to phrase it. "11 is still pretty newly-integrated by comparison." If she's mad at Britannia enough to pursue change by force... she ought to know more about Britannia.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"I'm so pleased it's worked well for you!" Yuliana smiles, her tone bright. "I'm sure next time will be even more impressive, no?"
But when Milly exclaims surprise over the time she was out, Yuliana shakes her head. "I was... unwell," she picks the word out, after a moment's hesitation, filing over a dozen more accurate descriptions. Milly isn't at a level to understand them, yet. "But all is well, now."
Nibble, nibble. "Before it was Britannia, here, it was the Danes -- the AEU, these days -- who graciously included this country in their Kingdom, while, shall we say, failing to document them sufficiently. Even after Danisation was abandoned, the Inuit weren't recognised as a minority in Denmark. In the end, their autonomy was never enshrined... so you can understand how the situation of the current day is the same weary yolk, at the hands of another invader."
Yuliana didn't know this to this level of detail even a few years ago, though she is broadly aware of the sociopolitical history of most of the world, given how many tools that gave her to destabilise things. But, well, she's moved in up North, and it would behoove her to know the situation of her neighbours.
It doesn't cost anything to talk to people about what's been going on.
"A lot of the kids are seeking Naturalisation just to get a 'proper' education," Yuliana says, looking up at the crisp blue sky. "With all the pressure coming in, they're leaving their homes and their families... it's got their grandmothers in quite a state, as I understand. But what choice do they have? They can't argue with Britannia from this position. I'm sure many people think that a law degree would give them much better footing. That sort of thing..." She sighs, taking another sip of tea.
Looking down at her reflection in the black liquid, Yuliana's brow rises up. "But they're keeping their heads down marvellously, aren't they?" She asks, a touch vague. "Why, I'm sure Pendragon barely stops to acknowledge their continued existence... are you satisfied by something like that, Barrikada?"
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
"I'm looking forward to giving it a second shot," Milly affirms. "I think if things hadn't piled up to the point where Zero showed up we would have had a better showing... we'll need to be quieter next time. Or pick a slightly less juicy target." That doesn't sit perfectly for Milly, but she can deal.
She gives her a smile at 'all is well,' but she seems more interested in talking about the local situation than anything else. "That's..." Milly frowns to think that these people haven't known genuine freedom from some foreign invader for centuries -- indeed, it's not implausible to her that things like Honorary Britannian status represent a step up compared to Danish rule. From that perspective, is upending things in pursuit of some imagined better world that she doesn't really know what it looks like yet... actually reasonable?
She sits with that for several seconds, turning it over in her head, trying to figure it out. It's the sort of question that's better left to ponder in her own time.
"... sad," she finishes, eventually, taking another nibble at her roe. "I think they're overestimating the value of a law degree in the hands of an Honorary Britannian. Maybe it's different in Area 9, though." In Area 11, it probably wouldn't be worth the paper it was printed on -- if they even print them anymore. "I don't think this is the sort of ending Area 11 deserves." A beat passes, and then --
"In some ways this isn't that different from the mainland, though, if you go to the wrong parts of the country." She lingers on that for a moment, and now it's her turn to glance down into her tea.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"We must walk before we run," Yuliana advises Milly, on the topic of targets and their juiciness. She can understand her eagerness, of course, but... "But this Zero, he is quite the bombastic fellow, isn't he?" Yuliana verbalises the swerve in thinking, with a smile.
She taps at the edge of her teacup, as she listens to Milly absorb it all. "It is not so different," she says, lightly, of the value of their degrees -- and this may condemn things more than anything she's said. Everywhere in Britannia...
"Mm," she hums, and takes another sip of tea. "This is a story you see repeating, time and time again. Perhaps it is only brought into sharp relief by the majority held here." Most people living in Area 9, even today, are Greenlandic Inuit; by all rights, they ought to control their own destiny.
Still, they do not.
"Haa... but in the end, the Republic was no better about it," Yuliana sighs, setting her teacup back down. "It's not as if the Chukchi were treated any more graciously by Zaftra... indeed, it is the very drawing of borders and battle lines which displaced many whose homes reached beyond them. Woe be to me, that I preached to you the glory of a rotten nation...! The truth, perhaps, may lie neither in the Republic nor Britannia... wouldn't you say?"
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
"I found him kind of condescending, actually," Milly answers Yuliana, the annoyance plain to hear in her voice. To think that she's still upset by the idea of having met with only a 78 percent grade from a man like Zero on her tactics -- the wound to her pride...
... well, it's as Yuliana says. Walk now, run later.
She takes a moment to drink her tea, thinking on Yuliana's assertion that things aren't that different between Areas. ... It's complicated, though, and while she can tell Yuliana's spent time getting to know this place, Milly concludes that she ought to keep traveling and getting to know some different regions.
"I don't think that's worth a 'woe to me' moment," Milly says, cutting that off at the pass rather than giving Yuliana a direct answer; that the answer is in neither is obvious to her, so she considers the other thing a bit more worth pressing on. "You're free to change your attitude over time without belaboring that kinda thing. I'd be more surprised if your attitude hadn't changed with everything that's happened."
That brings her thoughts back to one of the things she originally wanted to ask, though. "Is that what you're trying to get at with the charitable work? That the truth is somewhere else?"
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"Men who believe in their own greatness often are," Yuliana says, with mild sympathy, as she adds more sugar to her tea. (Of course she takes her tea with sweets. Sugar, this time, since honey is in short supply, this far North.) She won't go so far as to describe Zero as a 'great man' so easily, but she believes he thinks so.
(Now, whether she could be described as condescending is a conversation for never.)
She has to laugh, though, when Milly cuts her off. "Indeed!" She exclaims, more amused to hear Milly telling her not to apologise than ruffled she's countermanding her. (That isn't, precisely, what Milly said. Anyway.) "It's fine to re-evaluate your position, ha ha!"
"Haaah..." She sighs, stirring at her tea with its spoon. "Yes, it's something like that," she agrees, putting the spoon back down on its saucer before she lifts the teacup to her lips again. A sip of the twice-sweetened liquid, and she explains: "I've told you whence I come, yes? The laboratories. The human experimentation... ah, it is a cruel thing, Barrikada. I became a cruel woman, there. But all those people helped my wife to save me... and I came to know that what was happening, everything, this place and its people were... real."
Yuliana closes her eyes, "I could not think they were. I was so isolated inside myself... mm, I could not cope with a real world which did these things. So I told myself I was in a story... just reading a story. Just r--reading a story, so the characters, they could be nice, but they weren't real..." Her voice tremors, just slightly; the emotions she holds here are genuine, and not without pain.
"But that was the story I was telling myself, you see. Because my world, it was so unbelievable. Ah, but I came to know I was wrong, and... I wanted to do something, you see. There-- there was a girl I could not help, I tried and made an awful mess of it, and I wanted..." Deliberately, she puts her teacup down, before she grasps her hands together. She is making an effort not to shatter the cup. "I wanted to reach someone," she says. "I wanted to do something -- something good. If I could show the world our beneficience... if I could bring them to the peace of silence, then, I..."
Her thumb scrapes over her wedding ring, feeling the familiar arrangement of its rich stones, as she breathes, and she quiets. "Oh, you... you will forgive me," she says, trying her level best to keep her voice level. "I get a little emotional about it all..."
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
Milly laughs, without much mirth in it. "I've done the marriage interview circuit enough times to know that that's true," she says, with a laugh. Her own tea is mostly unsweetened; she has a fairly good taste for strong tea, even if it isn't her exclusive preference.
(It's not uncommon for noblemen to insist on ordering for their younger 'interviewees,' and Milly has expanded her palate to be pleasantly accommodating on this front.)
Again, she sits and listens to Yuliana's story; she can tell that those feelings are genuine, but something sticks out to her as she gets around to 'showing the world our beneficence.' It's at this point that she breaks from the discretion of mostly facing away; she turns, still holding her teacup, to make it easier to look over to Yuliana as the woman sets her own teacup down in favor of grasping her hands.
"It's fine to get emotional about this kind of thing," she eventually says. "And I think it's good that you're trying to do something good. But..."
She looks at that thumb that just grazed Yuliana's wedding ring. ... It's best if she doesn't press for now. Instead, she asks, "Do you need me to leave you to it?" Milly doesn't think Yuliana quite needs an apology for driving the conversation into shaky territory... but she doesn't want to press her too hard.
(It's not strictly for Yuliana's sake, either.)
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Yuliana turns her head, and her Orenburg shawl creases, fine as spider's silk, against her neck. "Ah..."
She considers the question, weighs it in her mind. It would be safer, she knows, to dismiss Milly now. She is too dangerously close to...
To what? Why is her heart anxious, speaking of these things?
Perhaps she's simply someone given to veils and privacy.
But, Milly trailing off echoes in her mind, but...
"It is kind of you to offer. But! -- you have questions, do you not?" She's a touch fragile, smiling to Milly, but she puts on a brave enough face. "You won't grow if you fail to ask, Barrikada. What bothers you?"
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
Milly chews on how she wants to ask this, if Yuliana really is going to prompt her for it. It's a difficult thing to navigate... but after a few moments, she comes to it.
"I think it's important to figure out which of the reasons you're doing something like that matters most to you. Is it for the girl you couldn't help? To show the world? To bring other people the 'peace of silence'? To get over your past? It's not that it has to just be one of those, but you need to know which one matters the most to you." There are answers she'd think more or less of, of course -- but she's not Yuliana and her values are not Yuliana's! She just thinks the clarity is important.
A beat passes.
"You don't have to answer right now. It's just something to think about," she finishes, tone matter-of-fact. It's at this point that she polishes off the rest of her tea.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"What matters the most...?" Yuliana wonders, and her gaze comes down, again, to her wedding ring.
"Of course," she says, at once, "what matters most to me is that my wife is happy. But she is happy to support me, so... in that case..." Now she pauses, thinking about it, as her thumb idly strokes her ring. Fist all cradled in her opposite hand, her fingers squeeze. "... it is most important that I am able to make a difference, for these people. A real difference -- a better difference than what I did, as the REA's saboteur. I still believe in equality, you see... though my country failed me. I still wish to bring them aid and comfort."
Her gaze, fixed on her ring, knits with the tension of her brow. "I know I am a violent woman. I know I am still cruel. But I do not wish the world to know me only by... what I was made to be. No..." Her eyes close, gently.
"... no, in the end, perhaps I just do not wish to be abandoned. I have always been... so wretchedly... alone."
But her voice catches too much, on that last word, and her lips twist; her position closes off, shoulders curling inwards, hands pulling into her core. "Ah -- never mind it," she insists, looking over and putting on a smile for Milly which remains a little tense, "please put my rambling from your mind. I'm just... still a little fragile, I'm sure, after my health took that turn. You'll pay it no mind, will you?" Her tea is not entirely finished, but she stands, regardless.
"I've matters to attend to -- and I'm sure you've the same. But it was lovely to see you again, my dear. Do call if you need any help, yes?" Later, implicitly; she's not long for this cafe, so it's lucky she's already paid for her food.
<Pose Tracker> Milly Ashford has posed.
Milly listens to Yuliana; it's interesting to hear her work through these things, step by step, inch by inch. Milly's always been a bit of a people-watcher, so watching Yuliana handle this sort of thing has her full attention.
It's the strange way she walks herself step by step through answer after answer until she ends up at the ultimate result:
'I just do not wish to be abandoned.'
Milly nods, saying, "... I can see why. An experience like that would be really isolating," she reflects. It's odd that she doesn't consider the steadfast support of her wife to be an antidote to this sort of loneliness, at first -- but then again, Milly muses, could anyone be happy with just one person in their life with any consistency?
Yuliana insists that Milly ought not worry about it, and that actually makes Milly frown more deeply than anything else Yuliana's said. Still, though --
"I'll do my best," she agrees, without a lot of mirth in it. "I hope your recovery keeps going well. Not a lot of people have the kind of staunch support your 'zhenushka' gives you." At the offer of help, she adds, "Of course. Don't be a stranger either," she answers her, doing her best to bring her own brightness level back up a bit.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Yuliana should be happy with just one person in her life.
Maybe that's why that admission was a step too far.
"I am a very lucky woman," Yuliana agrees, her smile growing warmer and more natural. "My Elisa works so tirelessly to support me. Perhaps you'll meet her more personally, one day?" And she says it as if it's a good thing.
"Dosvedanya, little Barrikada," she says her farewells, as she slips out of the cafe, and down the coast. She hurries home -- she's lingered out here overmuch.
Even when nothing goes wrong...