2018-09-18: Ours Is A White Lies Town
- Log: Ours Is A White Lies Town
- Cast: Loren Voss, Leah Sadalbari
- Where: Bledavik - Royal Palace
- Date: September 19th 2018
- Summary: Late at night in Bledavik, Loren reunites with a familiar face. Leah delivers a verdict.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
It's fairly late, getting on towards midnight. It's sure to be a cold one at that, out there in the desert. Within the confines of the palace, while things are not necessarily climate controlled, it's a good deal more comfortable than that.
In the halls beneath the palace -- the ones that have been refitted as needed -- but for the change in gravity and slight decrease in available amenities, even someone from Solaris might be fooled for a moment that they hadn't left a military facility back home.
Loren, as with many of the staff returning from Lunar, has been on effective standby. A few of them have been returning to active duty afield -- the Tzadkiel is still undergoing repairs -- but he's yet to receive any orders other than to remain at ready here in medical in Bledavik. And without any injuries or illnesses afflicting the relatively light number of personnel on staff, there's not much for him to do.
He'd never thought he'd actually think it, but he's getting... bored.
Maybe this is where it'll end. He'll just be staffed here until the end of his career, caring for those who take injury in more active roles.
...The agitation raised by this avenue of thought might be one of the reasons why he's taking inventory tonight in medical supply stocking.
...
......The inventory had come up short. There's a missing box of disposable latex gloves.
He's almost completely vanished into the depths of the floor-level cabinets, a pile of boxes tossed out from inside it as he, motivated by irritation at the mismatched number alone, seeks to get at the root of the problem.
Six hundred and sixty-five...
There. Wedged up against a beam in a distant corner of the cabinet.
"I knew it!" he shouts to no one at all as he siezes the missing box, then immediately tries to stand up and -- having momentarily forgotten where he is -- thus bangs his head on the top of the inside of the storage compartment.
A brief oath, in Solarian, echoes out of the storage compartment.
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Almost, almost fooled. If one wants to be, it's even easier. But how many would rather relax, thinking themselves, home, even here on the surface? Isn't it more tempting to hold fast to the difference? To being too good for this dusty ground?
It's true that many of the staff have been on effective standby. It's useful sometimes considering what not to tell the soldiers on the ground, as well as what to tell them. And in this case? A little boredom is ideal.
As is often the case in enclosed storage units, there's a little echo that comes with the muffling of sounds outside; the noise of hitting the ceiling is a dull thump. The oath sounds just a little different by the time it gets out. and behind the entrance...
"Tsk," vocalizes a feminine voice from outside. "Do we have a little mouse problem?" It's difficult to recognize the voice at first; it's just slightly disguised, just slightly muffled... but unmistakably speaking in Solarian. Silence, then; Loren will have the chance to crawl back out. When he does, his eyes, at floor level, will first see:
Immaculate black boots, calf-length, lines down their center vertically and a stretch of white-lined color near the top of the foot up the middle. There's something not quite the same about each leg, though, a different shape under the boot and the leggings that feed into them. Looking up...
This is not a Gebler uniform, but what? The woman in it is waiting, in a casual stance, but a look up confirms that much; she wears a short black dress accented in indigo, the same as the color down, a collared capelet draped over her shoulders, long colored sleeves and white gloves. A shirt peeks out from the collar in white, and the face is one that might be familiar to Loren; fair-skinned, blue-eyed... Blue haired of all things here in this place, what should be her right eye covered with a snug eyepatch that's threaded into her hair.
She looks calm, maddeningly hard to read, knowing somehow.
"Such language," she sighs, in Solarian.
Ah, that's it; the insignias mark her alliegance as... The Interior Ministry.
And Leah looks down at Loren, switching to the surface tongue, "Hello, Ren. It's been a while."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He in fact has no idea anyone else is in here until the woman's voice echoes out, muffled by the insulation and walls.
Mice?
To say that he backs on out of the cabinet unit in a hurry is an understatement. "I'm in, I'm in, I was just getting--"
The part where he starts to wave the (dented) box of medical gloves is cut short as he takes in a pair of boots. Instead, he rather quietly sets the box down, his gaze instead lifting up the length of the woman who has come into medical at this hour of night.
She's not a Gebler officer.
But color of hair or not, her outfit clearly speaks of someone of rank and power within the tangled hierarchy of Etrenank and Solaris.
And her face...
Her face is what prompts Loren to straighten where he remains kneeled, to pale under those freckles dotting his face. "Leah?" he croaks, as if he's uncertain about the identity of the person standing in front of him.
He feels at once as he's twelve again -- with all the powerlessness and none of the hope towards the future.
"What are you," he starts to say, then swallows before he can finish: "...doing down here?"
What had happened to her?
...He doesn't remember. Or to be more accurate, he never even thought about it much before now.
But the uniform she wears starts to suggest a certain path.
He rises to his feet, takes a step back as if to return some scrap of space between the two of them. "It's... yeah." He winces, itself faint; he looks away. "It's been a while..."
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Leah steps quietly when she wishes, as a rule. It's not hard to go unheard when someone isn't expecting her.
A single blue eye peers down towards Loren, and then the box, and then Loren again as he moves to straighten. Leah keeps watching him; she notes the pale moment, the freckles... the change in his appearance over time. He says her name, and she doesn't seem to respond to it in the moment. Even when they were younger, Leah always had a way of looking through someone when she wanted to, and it would seem that she wants to now. "Mm-hm," she answers eventually, as if encouraging him to actually finish what he's saying. He does, eventually.
She doesn't move an inch when Loren stands up; she offers no additional space, and indeed, is slightly taller than he is in her boots, slight heel that there is enough. What is she doing down here, he asked.
"Watching you squirm, mostly," she answers easily, smoothly, as if there's nothing at all awkward going on here for her. "Comparing your current state to the reports." She was blonde, the last time he saw her, there is that. "At ease, Lieutenant," she says, heedless of the fact that Loren was not in fact at attention.
She shifts her stance, opening it as if to guide Loren away from the cabinet and towards the rest of the room. "Come with me."
A beat, "...This isn't a request, or a personal call. Though you don't need to call me Major. I'm a civilian now."
She begins to walk for the door.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
She certainly isn't expected. If he had been asked, he would have answered truthfully that she was one of the people he never expected to see again.
But here they are, standing face to face, or just about. If it weren't for the part where that incident had changed them both -- or the years intervening at that -- it might even almost be like old times.
Just like when he was a kid, she's still taller. It's slight, but he still notices it.
But then, she'd always been on the tall side, even back then.
So had his brother.
For a moment, there's almost a hint -- like the sun peeking out from behind a bank of clouds -- of the exasperated look he would have pulled had she said something like that to him when he was small. But it dies quickly to the wordless dread that seems to have its claws in him, that only intensifies when she comments on how she's comparing his now to 'the reports'. Icewater might as well have been doused over him; his breathing shallows out.
He's paranoid. What reports?
Who is she working for?
For a moment, Loren hesitates. He glances back, briefly, at the pile of boxes of latex gloves.
Her tone -- or words for that matter -- doesn't exactly brook refusal, for all that she's not in his chain of command.
...Probably, anyway.
He nods. "...Understood," comes the response, and feeling as if his body has been cast in lead, he follows after her.
"Is... there something I should be calling you?" Title, he means. If there's one.
She's a 'civilian'. A civilian in a uniform.
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Years later, here she is. ...She's older than she was, and there are ways in which the years have worn on her. ...Nevertheless there's a certain quiet certainty to her. It's almost like it never happened, for how she seems to look at him. Almost.
The hint of that look is enough; Leah's blue eye takes it in and it's clear indeed that she saw. But... Ah, there's the paranoia. Shallowed breathing; tension in his posture. She was always good at reading people, and that's only improved with training. ...Not that most people like that quality of hers.
Loren hesitates, and Leah doesn't stop. She lets him just catch up, though she is not walking all that quickly. She joins her hands behind herself, a comfortable posture that implies an utter lack of concern for what may happen here and now. She doesn'te ven turn to make sure he's following. Instead...
"Yes," Leah answers. "In mixed company, 'Major' or 'Leah' is acceptable. Among those unaware, Leah is best. But here, in official contexts," she says, and it's not hard to notice the drawing-out of this moment, the little sense of drama despite her even, calm tone--
"You may call me 'Watcher.'"
That title hangs on the air for a moment. "I have come from the Interior Ministry to assist Gebler Special Exploratory Group in light of the many unusual factors in play at the current time. Both in dealing with the unusual relics that you have faced up to this point... And in ensuring that Gebler continues to operate at appropriate efficiency."
"How are you adapting to your return? You had quite the adventure, I gather." She walks down the silent hall. There is, whether one would expect it or not, no one here. Loren might recognize that there is a lounge in this direction; small, meant for breaks and working mealtimes.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
She's less than she was, to look at her now. But then, after what had happened, why should she have any part of her intact?
Only one had made it out alive.
But it's almost like it never happened, if he doesn't fixate on the fine points. Almost.
That's a lie.
She looks at him then, and again, he has the sense that he's been seen right through. But it's always been like that with her. Probably because of her parents -- she would have to be good at that. That thought doesn't serve as any sort of comfort, of course.
Where she leads, he follows, leaving the mess of his stock-taking behind for someone else to handle. If they even do, at this hour. If anyone else ever goes into the storage room before he returns.
"...Major. Huh. ...I see," he answers, trailing behind her at a short distance. His footfalls alone will tell how closely he's following. Of all things, he has the sense -- again, not for the first time -- that he's headed off towards his own execution.
Maybe it's because she's here. Maybe it's because of what's happened.
Maybe it's because he's himself--
And he, being himself, just about stops dead when she drops that title, a break in the otherwise steady sound of his footsteps after her.
"Watcher...?"
Dread gives way to something far darker, far colder. She's with the Interior Ministry.
They sent someone from the Interior Ministry.
She's with the Interior Ministry.
"Unusual... factors," he echoes. "Such as 'Lunar' and the Metal Demons?" Or are there other things? Maybe, he can distantly hope, it's nothing to do with him, that she was just paying him a visit, that their paths have just crossed again, that...
"I..." He pauses again, stopping to readjust his glasses. He picks up the pace thereafter. "I suppose you could put it that way. Somehow, we were able to return to Filgaia, though not without casualties. That... thing that we faced, it..."
He trails out.
"You probably already know about that." It was in all the reports, and the data readings would have been enough as it was.
He realizes after a moment that he still hasn't answered her question.
"And, uh... I'm... alright." About as well as he can expect, under circumstances.
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Nor should it be comforting. She is a ghost of the past returned in physical form, and there is no sense at all that comforting lies will fool her. Perhaps that is a thought to add to the dread that undercuts her calm, easy words and stance. Is it really like that at all?
As she walks, she waits for the inevitable effect of her words. And there it is; his footsteps stop, and hers do not. He repeats the title, and she doesn't so much as look back. Maybe she doesn't care what he thinks about it. Maybe she's confident that whatever his feelings, he will follow orders.
She walks briskly, but there's an obvious way that her steps mismatch slightly, now that he sees. Very slightly.
"I'm glad to hear it," Leah answers eventually, when Loren actually answers the question. Then she opens the door to the small room, flicks on the electric light, and gestures him inside. The room is empty of people, includes a table, some chairs, a more comfortable pair of chairs in the corner with a table...
When Loren steps inside, Leah follows, closing the door behind her. "I do worry." Is it sincere? A mockery? Hard to say, really. But in the next moment, she glances to the corner, towards an obvious, visible camera, and lifts her hand.
There is a pulse of wind Ether, and the camera crackles suddenly with lightning before falling silent. She lowers her hand, and looks him over. "Yes, such as Lunar and the Metal Demons, as well as the matter of the Guardians. Do you know much about their religion? You do have an acquaintance who would be a useful resource on that front if you don't."
A beat, "Yes, I read your reports. Exceeded scale parameters... It was quite a fearsome creature, I'm sure."
"But I'm not here because of a monster in orbit. I am here to check on my dear little brother. As I said, I've read the reports. Were you aware that you failed your psych report?" She lets that hang for a moment, "It's within my power to let you retire comfortably, if you wish it. Your service would be commended; you might get a medal. You have done your nation and your Emperor a great service with your efforts."
This time, though, the pleasant facade has quietly faded, and she is all analysis again. She is not unkind... But she is not pretending that her authority is less than it is.
"No questions asked from others. ...Alternately, I can clear you to return for duty. If I do, your reward for your hard work will be a harder and more dangerous assignment."
"Tell me which I should do, Lieutenant. I'm listening."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
It's impossible in the end to escape the past, as much as you might try. He's certainly given it his best, but there's no helping what's shackled to you by blood itself. The sins of the fathers -- or perhaps in this case, the brother -- are passed down to the next in the lineage, without exception...
Something, he notices, as they continue on, is off about her gait. Her steps are mismatched--
He's a smart enough boy.
Between that and her eye, is it so hard to guess?
Something in his gut twists. He didn't know.
Hadn't asked.
Or looked for himself.
He steps in ahead of her, discomfort now plainly clinging to his frame. It's not as if he expected anyone around, but the sense of isolation, still, is palpable. He moves over to one of the chairs and sits, making himself as comfortable as is actually possible under the circumstances.
Lightning flickers about the camera, and distantly, Loren's reminded of something Major Yugh had done.
As, it happens, under very similar circumstances.
"Some," he answers, forcing himself to focus on her and not dwell on the fact that she's just shorted the surveillance in here. "What Cultural had to say about them, and those who worship them. What I saw of them in the temple last year." The tablet which he is in possession of. Silence, for the moment, proceeds. "...And what she told me about them."
Lan had been 'convinced' (A partial brainwashing? Some sort of conditioning? He wasn't yet sure) to assist the effort against the Metal Demons, for which she would likely ultimately receive the reward of sacrificing herself for the sake of Solaris and the world.
"..." Silence bears out for multiple reasons. Because of the twist in that girl's destiny. Because of Sin. And because of...
She sounds no less than kind.
Concerned, even, when she informs him of one little thing. One little reason why he's yet to return to duty.
His body might as well be dead to him. It feels like he's gone entirely numb, an empty thing sitting here and listening to her explain that he failed his psychiatric evaluation. Light catches across the lenses of his glasses as he rocks back where he sits a few degrees, obscuring his gaze from view for the moment.
Oh, it figures. It figures, doesn't it. He'd known in a way he wasn't...
So now what? He's just waiting for them to send him back, isn't he?
Back to what? The hope that this, until now, has been 'enough'? And what after that?
He still hasn't said anything since the matter of Guardians. His expression -- what's visible of it -- is blank, obscure.
And rather suddenly he sits up straight and with vehemence, shakes his head. "No--"
It hasn't been enough. It can't possibly have been enough to erase a sin. There would be whispers, rumors, suggestions that it was anything but deserved. Nothing would change.
And he leans forward, bowing his head. "Please-- Leah, don't let them send me home. Please. I'm begging you."
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Escape isn't possible--but other things are. Other approaches. Maybe Loren will find out. Maybe not.
Regardless, Leah does not sit down immediately. She remains standing even as the Lieutenant finds his place at the table. It's not that she's still, not really--her expressions have all the same movement that someone would expect of a person. This is not some emotionless automaton. ...Nevertheless, she keeps her eye on Loren, and if she blinks at all, he can't see it for a while.
"Yes, the temple--a very interesting report that was. I would like to have seen it for myself. We do at least have a primary source on them local now."
There it is. After long silence stretching out, after the light glints off of his glasses, after he finally sits up straight. There, she blinks slowly, a delberate closing of her eye and opening it again, over the course of seconds that stretch out, agonizing for someone waiting. He leans forward--
For another few moments Leah watches the young medic's expression before she steps forward, pulls a chair, and takes a seat opposite him. She leans forward just enough to lace her hands together, elbows resting on the table's surface, near her.
"All right," she answers simply. "Because you chose it. ...Remember that. Whatever happens, wherever your path leads you... You could have left. You'll have to own that choice." She speaks smoothly, her voice low and stable, as she lifts a couple of fingers to forestall his response.
"You will stay on. My ruling will find that your difficulties post-return are solvable, and are a natural response to stress. You will be afforded some leave. Use it to see your family, re-establish your cover... Use it to organize the stockroom. It makes no difference so long as you take the time to have some rest. You will not be useful to the Emperor if you break down before you complete your mission."
She lowers her fingers, resting her hands together, still up.
"...That mission will take you into dangerous territory. In the coming month, we're moving forward with plans in Elru. You will be among the group that goes there. I don't need to tell you the many dangers that continent offers even in more ideal circumstances. These are not ideal circumstances."
"This is all classified, of course; you'll get the details from your Commander. But in addition to your ordinary duties, you'll be performing maintenance on my cybernetics as necessary..."
"Because I'm going with you."
"Questions, Lieutenant? If you have something you wish to say to me, I suggest you do it before the camera is repaired."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
If he's being honest...
He's known he's been in bad shape for a while now. On the moon, though, there wasn't much opportunity to do much of anything about it. --Oh, certainly, if he'd opted to, he could have spoken to someone. But what use would it have been? Would they even have cared? Most likely, it wouldn't have changed anything.
But he also knows in the same breath that this makes him a walking liability. The chain breaks at its weakest link, after all. Accepting his fate and going home would be the best choice for everyone else.
And yet, he's not so far gone as to just give up on what he wants... even if it does mean he's a liability after all.
In the end, he throws himself at the mercy of the court, so to speak.
Leah thus tenders her judgement.
"..." Only at considerable length does he lift his gaze, as if at first afraid to meet her eye and what might be waiting there. "...I--"
He cuts off as she indicates he should stay his words, just a moment or two more.
Shock melts across his expression. Again, someone's willing to lie for his sake.
But he's not so much an idiot as to argue it.
Instead, he simply nods, something like a muted gratitude filtering in to take shock's place.
Take some time off. Reorganize the stock room, if that's what he really wants to do with his time. Again, he nods, still silent as he seems to hang on her every word.
Right now, she is dictating his fate, in the way few other people could.
Take some time off, because hard times are ahead.
But it would be a strange, suspicious situation if he were to sit here and not experience any trouble, ever again.
And it's impossible to seize glory in a peaceful land or an untroubled time.
So of course, it would be Elru.
Maintenance? I knew it, he thinks, shortly afterwards. And not just the leg, but also...
Are there any questions?
"Leah, I..." Something crosses his face. Regret? Or just naked anxiety? He looks away soon after, as if whatever he had nearly said were now eluding him. Loren shakes his head. "No, nothing--"
Only to look back up at her, a certain realization crossing his expression. "...Where in Elru?"
There's a lot wrong with that side of the world, even under ideal circumstances.
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Is it better, or worse that this confirms that it wasn't a secret? Elly after all mentioned something before. ...But whatever Leah has said so far, she hasn't said something against that. She's simply given instructions; moved to address the issue.
The Watcher seems, as she speaks, to be entirely accustomed to deciding fates; she speaks with the appropriate gravity but without the slightest hitch of nerves. This is how things must be.
Shock, gratitude; she is not some distant monolith, and the tiny movements of eyebrow and face note that she has seen both. She does not offer welcome, does not respond to unspoken thanks. ...But a gleam, a metal clasp at her eyepatch that joins the cord, that catches the light, just by her brow.
She always was the type to seek accomplishment, if he remembers; was not the sort to give up. ...Even when she wasn't at the forefront, her contributions couldn't be denied. Now?
He uses her name, and she watches him for a moment--regret, anxiety? Whatever it was, her gaze follows his as he looks away, and as he looks back again.
"If that's how you feel," she replies simply, gamely. Then, a beat.
"North. And we aren't the only ones."
She sets her hands down, and begins to slide her chair back, pausing only to look over Loren again. "Now, if that's all... I had a long trip in."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Try as he might, he can't make heads or tails of whatever it is that rests beneath her facade. It just seems too...
Easy? No, that's not what it is. This is far from easy.
...
Whatever it is, it's 'too much' of it.
But it's always been like that with her. His brother, too, now that he thinks of it, watching her speak. He says nothing. He can only watch and think, again taking the passive role in matters.
"..."
Maybe that's why she and he -- his brother, that is -- always seemed like they were speaking some wordless language to one another.
His shoulders hunch.
Even that half-statement he almost manages earns only a look he can't comprehend.
"...North."
That says enough.
"I know," comes the response, and for once, it's honest and not tinged with irritation or somesuch.
Just a touch, he draws himself up. She had a long... right. It would have been a long trip in.
So he shakes his head. "No, that's all. There's nothing else." Anything else he can get from Cultural... or do his own research. Or just enjoy what's left to him and try to get his head on straight.
Yeah. Maybe he's a liability, but he can at least try to be less of one.
He stands. Salutes, as needless as it might be. Pauses a moment as if he's trying to decide whether anything else is needed from him, but...
The obvious things she would have done or would already be on her schedule. The non-obvious things... are beyond his paygrade to know about.
"...Good evening."
So instead after that awkward handful of seconds, he turns and makes his exit. Loren's hand lingers on the door for a moment more, as if he's trying to figure out if he should even close the door but in the end he pulls it shut behind him before immediately turning away and leaning against the wall just outside it.
For a moment he just feels sick.
Conducting her cybernetic maintenance...
Before he pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk down the hallway from whence they came. He doesn't look back.
<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.
Few can read someone like Leah. As failures go, it's a common one. It is her business, after all, to be precisely that way. ...But there is a deeper truth there, somewhere. Out of reach.
And they always were like that.
He knows, this time, and Leah stares right into his eyes again. 'Yes', her gaze says, 'I believe you do.' ...But she doesn't have to answer it. Really, that isn't the only possible question. But here...
That's all. That's all, for now. He salutes, of course, and she inclines her head as if to allow him to go as a result. He waits--he pauses. ...And he sees himself out.
"Good evening," she repeats after him, and stands wehre she is, not even turning to watch him as he goes. She remains inside, for a little longer; through the awkward moments, time enough for Loren to linger, and it's only after he goes through the door that she turns towards it.
There's a strange whirring noise, barely audible, as she focuses with the eye that cannot be seen, watches him leave through the door. She considers, a little longer, and shakes her head in turn. ...A gloved hand comes up and pulls at a thin chain about her neck, pulling out the golden bands that hang there.
"Little Ren's all grown up." The words are murmured as she looks up, as if through the ceiling, to the heavens. "...I wonder what you'd say, to see him now. Do you think he's ready?"
"We'll see."