2018-11-08: They Grow Up So Fast!
- Log: They Grow Up So Fast!
- Cast: Gwen Whitlock (as Frea), Elvis
- Where: Boot Hill
- Date: 11/8/2018
- Summary: As Gwen goes to the east continent of Elru, the enigmatic Frea, best known as 'that aunt that Gwen keeps talking about', finally reaches out to the assistance of fellow scholar Elvis. She has a favor to ask of the fellow Veruni, one that only he could possibly understand the full weight of.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
It's not often that Frea has made calls to other scientists 'in the field', as it were. Her century-long trek through the dusty dunes of the Badlands have suited her preference to keep to herself, even if she devoured the reports from other respected Veruni Infiltrators with gusto, supplying her research in kind.
Research, such as the nature of synchronization. Also, as a minor field, into garden vegetables. Specifically, peppers that have long passed whatever sane scale mankind meant to denote 'spicy'.
Everyone needs a hobby.
Frea's message brings Elvis to the town of Boot Hill, a minor human settlement of little note, with a modest population of settlers. Frea's execeptional home sits near the border of the town, sitting in the shelter provided by the hill the very town is named after. Fair enough to provide privacy, but not so far away to be deemed a separate settlement. A spartan garden marks the around around the home, full of plants that seem fairly unappetizing compared to the fair grown in the more conventional lots in town. Unappetizing, but living, at least. And producing, no less. If he manages to spare a peek towards the back, Elvis's eyes may also spot the outline of poor Gear in the back, of some generic desert military, now overgrown with gourd vines. If it had the ability to move, it sure can't now.
As for Frea herself, she stands in the front porch, grey hair held back in a proper braid, her outfit a simple dark grey dress with a high neckline and and full sleeves. An old black cat lounges on the table where some papers sit with various diagrams and scientific drawings of various plants, one tooth callously poking out from his closed mouth. Frea looks up at the feline with an irritated sigh. "Bah. Can you find a worse place to lie than here? There are perfectly serviceable places inside."
<Pose Tracker> Elvis has posed.
Sitting within the confines of a lab can be so important yet... so boring. There are many things Sentinel Elvis will need to be present for. Researching a cure for that Tainted Hydaean, finding out what Malice and Malevolence and how it is so powerful, their own issue with the VR Factor.
But Elvis' resources are astounding as to what he has access to. The most sophisticated sueprcomputers. A veritable legion of assistants eager to have working in his lab on a resume. Yet...
There are times when the numbers must run, and tests set to be ran but the AI rather than by able hands. These times make periods in the lab stagnant and nigh unbearable.
So when a communication came in on a rarely used frequency, you can be Elvis lept to find out who it was.
---
A small human settlement within travel distance. One grown from hardship, but has earned a rightful place now. It even seems to have its shadows of war, acting as fertilizer-slash-reminders.
It would be difficult not to spot Elvis on approach. The way he dresses, casts a shadow, walks... he sticks out in a small backwoods town. Getting by is easy in larger settlements, but here? Nah.
"Well then!" the man states, walking up to the lady and her fuzzy companion. "I haven't heard from you in... How long as it been?" He actually lost track. Its been a while for sure. At least directly.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
As a shadow falls across Frea's table, she looks up from her research. "Ah, Professor Elvis." One hand goes to her black lacquer cane as she stands. Her height is average for any woman her perceived age, her facial features oddly eternal in the way some Veruni get to be at certain points. Pale, yes, but that's just a part of her usual, proper look. The fact that it's the veiled pallor of someone who is in a long, losing struggle with VR Factor is not surprising either. "I'm glad you were able to spare some time from your work."
The cat has not budged from his curled, relaxed position on top of Frea's documents, his tail twitching contentedly.
"Yes, it's been a while. It would be..." Frea frowns as she holds her hands over her back, unable to think back over the wide expanse of memories. "Far too long," she finally decides. "The years have an odd habit of flying by when you are deep in research. Please, do come in." She gestures to the door. "How was your trip, then? Would you care for some tea?"
It's not until they have passed through the front door that Frea feels content to go beyond pleasant exchanges, her tone changing to that far more familiar blunt tone. "While I would give up my library twice over to take a peek at your work, I'm afraid such topics are best suited for a night where I am feeling far less selfish. I have a favor to ask of you, and an important one at that."
<Pose Tracker> Elvis has posed.
Huh. When did she get a cat, anyway? "Of course. Any time for you." he says politely as can be. She was a nice sort of person to be around. Did her own share of dabbling in Human affairs. Better than the current set option for the Veruni anyway. Or at least the standard.
"Tell me about it. Already over the hill here, Hah!" he says, batting a hand at Frea. Yet, despite that number, Elvis still looks in his prime, though more on the aged side himself as well. She fares... worse. For obvious reasons, at least to the Sentinel. "I would love some actually! The trip here has been quite the walk."
He is a damn liar-- he took a transport partway.
"Oh, right to the subject!" the man states, adjusting his ascot. "You need but let me know and I can show you what we have found so far," is added after entering the abode. Sometimes he wondered what it was about rustic living that drew some of the Veruni to it. Privacy? Tranquility? Hum.
"A favor, you say?" His already squinting eyes may squint a little more. "Talk to me."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"I may take you up on that in the future," she says with a subtle smile as she steps through an open doorway into a small kitchen. "It has been far too long since I have been able to converse with people of similar intelligence. I fear my mind will degrade from lack of use at this rate."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"I may take you up on that in the future," she says with a subtle smile as she steps through an open doorway into a small kitchen. "It has been far too long since I have been able to converse with people of similar intelligence. I fear my mind will degrade from lack of use at this rate."
The interiors are much like the exterior, with wood walls, little to no light not otherwise provided by natural sources. Many shelves are filled with various artifacts from all over Ignas, of crystals, minerals, small Baskar weavings, baskets made of dry grass and thin bark.
It is also impeccably clean and well-kept, with everything kept in its rightful place.
On one mantel are sepia-toned photos, done in the style common to larger cities, of her with an older, wan, serious-looking child, posing demurely with her right side facing towards the back and Frea in the background. A second, and the child now a smiling young woman in her early teens, her expression contrasting with Frea's casually dour expression. The third is hard to miss, being a recent photo of the young woman, proudly standing next to her distracted horse, its face blurred by the camera's limited ability to capture such moments on a quick time frame.
Elvis does not have to wait long before Frea steps out of the kitchen, carefully holding a tea tray, with all the proper utensils balanced. "Thankfully, I still have some proper tea."
Setting it at a table, she continues speaking. "This is a difficult request, and you are within your full rights to refuse. I assume you may have seen some of my papers on the subject of ARMs and Synchronization in particular. The subject of those is... well. I have heard her mention your presence once or twice in various matters." She sets the teacups out carefully, a small tremor barely present as she sets her own tea down. "Her name is Gwen Whitlock. My niece, if not biologically." She sits down. "I felt you would have some sympathy for an overworked scholar, having dealt with some of these issues yourself. How is your charge, by the way? I have heard she has grown into quite the young lady."
<Pose Tracker> Elvis has posed.
"You only have need to send a signal-- If need be I can even have transport arranged if you wanted to come to us instead." While Frea may not be so inclined to suppress the positive interactions of Human and Veruni, operatives are nonetheless valuable, after all. Though asking too much of her in her condition...
The tall Veruni walks amidst the abode, taking in the atmosphere, upkeep, and decorum. At least she had taste. It it such a hard thing to come by these days. "Oh, excellent! Thank you," Elvis says, coming to a chair and sitting down. A bit of a tight fit but he makes due. "Ah, yes, your dissertations. I have! They helped in their own right, and actually somewhat recently as well, helping grant a side-glance at how Metal Demons function with weapons."
"Yes, as of late, I have been going out onto the field for some matters, though some things that have been placed upon me are... less than desirable." A groan at that last part is uttered. Elvis listens to her request. "That name is familiar, if by passing. Let me guess, she is heading with the rest of the headstrong Humans to go try to knock down the seat of the Metal Demons?"
There is a long pause, where only the gentle clattering of a cup to a saucer stands out.
"I can do that, yes. In truth, I have been looking at a way to hold my command, and help their chances at the same time. Some Veruni, besides us, have made friends with them, and some wish to help with the VR Factor. It makes me.. hesitant to fight them."
"I will do my best to not harm her." And then, Frea mentions Carol. "She is doing wonderful!" the man says, jubilant. Then quickly sinks in to some kind of morbid depression. "If I can find her again that is...!"
I keep seeing her from afar, but never can get to her! Like she is lost or something! I worry about her so much!"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
At the mention of transport, Frea groans. "Don't tempt me like that. One hot shower and I'd never want to leave. These old bones of mine wouldn't allow me."
Frea's face curls into a pleased expression at Elvis's news. "Excellent! While my initial theories failed to pan out, it is quite fascinating. If only we could 'sync' with the planet in much the same manner. Or, perhaps, develop technologies that do it for us, rather than..." She trails off, frowning thoughtfully. The rest of the statement hangs in the air, tactfully left unstated.
'Rather than the other way around.'
"You deduced correctly, as expected. Indeed, she is, despite my subtle protests." Elvis's promise prompts Frea to stop in mid-sip from her tea. Setting the teacup down, she stifles a low chuckle. "Oh, please. Sometimes force is necessary, especially with the stubborn. She is very durable, and I suppose I would not mind any bits of data you gain from such exchanges."
She clears her throat. "... But I appreciate the sentiment. Really, it isn't you that I'm concerned about. It's..."
A thump is heard, followed by a scratching at the door. Frea sighs, the tea still settling in its cup from the sudden jolt. "Yes, yes, Cat. I'll let you in." She grumbles as she eases from the table, unceremoniously easing the door just enough to let the fluffy black feline ease himself in, immediately making a beeline for Elvis himself. "... This is... Cat."
Frea clears her throat once more. ".... But yes. I have been tactful in my papers, but it's only a matter of time before a certain someone decides Gwen would be a decent distraction. While his modifications have been invaluable for my own insights into Gwen's ARM, he is... a man who does as he wishes." She cranes her neck towards Elvis. "Hence my selfish request. If he becomes involved, I wish to keep him from encountering Gwen. Use force with her if necessary. I trust your fists over his, ah, attention. As for the Hydaeans, I shall place my trust in letting matters settle themselves. The matter is far too complex to let the wishes of one lone woman rule over the needs of many."
The way her mouth wrinkles downwards says otherwise.
Elvis's outburst serves as a welcome distraction. "Then my suspicions," she begins, weaving her fingers together in front of her and a coy smile forming on her lips, "were correct. Excellent."
The proud Veruni allows herself a moment of vain pride, watching the man languish over his own pride and joy, but then, like someone watching someone else sink into quicksand, Frea is pulled into it by emotion alone. "... Hnn! Don't remind me. Wandering off on their own. I was happy when she brought me back trinkets, but now, she stumbles across an artifact or two here and there and fancies herself a hero from some one gella novel. She will deny it, but I know that's what she feels." She stifles another groan. "... They grow up so fast..."
<Pose Tracker> Elvis has posed.
"Hah!" Elvis laughs, slapping a knee. "Yeah, I can understand that sentiment. THese long treks away from the Control Zones can make you miss things. But, you wouldn't have given it up if you didn't have a good reason, so no sense in me pushing the envelope." A shame though, it could help her condition. Or not-- Elvis likes to be hopeful on that front.
Mostly because it keeps him sane working on a cure.
"Well, we are actually on a lead regarding it, concernig the Guardians. Evidence suggests the illness is not physical in origin whatsoever. And that seeking them out may hold clues, though due to current factors finding a Guardian will be hard," says the man in the dapper vest. "The matron of the Metal Demons seems to be utterly suppressing them. Yet another reason I do not want to help them."
"Hello, Cat," Elvis states to the feline. That is a rather direct name for the animal. But hey, it answers to it, so it works!
"Ah, yes, I get you," Elvis says, a side of a mouth twitching. Into what, it is difficult. That godly moustache blocks full visibility. "The only ones that appeared for the meeting to issue the orders was me, Persephone, and another of our operatives as a witness, Ambrosius. With all the conflict going on the other two have largely been unseen, surprisingly." A pause. "Perhaps on a mission of further import?"
A shrug. No telling. Well, Fereydoon is far more predictable then the other one.
"It's not suspicious!" Elvis says, slapping his hands on the table repeatedly. He seems to be taking care not to damage the table at least. "She is lost and confused! I have not taught her wilderness survival! What if a mammal attacks?!"
Her mentioning how quickly Humans grow up causes him to stop. "...They do."
Gears are turning in his head, visible by his facial expressions. "...I wonder if I can extend a human's like...!"
Oh boy.