2019-12-14: First Impressions
- Log: First Impressions
- Cast: Loren Voss, Anaitis Sura
- Where: Damzena Desert
- Date: December 14, 2019
- Summary: Loren, newly arrived at Assyria Base, has a certain encounter. (he has an encounter with his crush) (that's who he has an encounter with)
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
With great responsibility also comes great... amounts of paperwork.
Not just Loren's own. No, that part -- once he got through all the piles coming down from the top (and his own reports, can't forget those) -- is relatively easy once he made the necessary adjustment for time and complexity.
No, the real problem is actually his subordinates' reporting. A few of them are off-site, attending to a squadron. Those are a little complicated.
The rest are here, at Assyria Base in the Damzen Desert and...
They really like to generate reports.
This one, he's pretty sure, as he scrolls through it on his approach to the Gear hangar, is about effectively nothing. Something about the accounting of a missing box of surgical gloves that turned out to be just wedged in the back of the storage unit.
He... may be having a bit of deja vu here.
He glances up just once on his approach to the hangar doors, then back down at the screen on his tablet, taking the next step as he skims with all haste the next three paragraphs of this report.
does this report ever end
he's in hell
And also not looking where he's going as the doors slide open.
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
The Damzen Desert. Assyria Base. Ah...
It is here where those so relevant to them have gathered. A portion of the world so stricken, not only by the natural desertification but also the tireless advance of war in the Damzena region. A fascinating study of human history dotted in remnants along its sandy span.
When Loren walks through, he bumps into someone!
"Goodness," comes a melodious voice.
Sadly, the invention of the tablet has ruined the drama and excitement of dropping a whole sheaf of papers and reaching down at the same time only to stare into each other's eyes.
The figure, dressed in the typical garb of an Engineer of Solaris, steps back and performs a bow that can be described as '45-degrees; mechanically precise'. "My apologies, Captain."
Their right hand is at their chest; today's nail art is
Amethyst Pearl Coating
with Sparkling Red Glitter
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Another thing lost to the march of techology, alas.
Particularly since he does actually drop the tablet. It tumbles from his grasp--
--he snatches it before it can crash to the floor, which would have looked pretty cool actually, if he hadn't also overbalanced in his reach for it and thus stumbled in a way that can only be called ungainly. His ego bruised, he rounds on the person who bumped into him and snaps:
"Watch where you're..."
He trails out, his gaze first lingering on the face of one Anaitis Sura, also known as 'the one with the nice hands'.
...Also also known as the one Loren has been nursing a hopeless crush-from-afar on for well over a year now.
Not that he's had the guts to do anything about it, not even after the destruction of the Tzadkiel.
His attention dips a moment, towards their hand, on their chest.
Loren swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Is... is there a route of escape? He glances past Anaitis, panic rising within.
SAY SOMETHING, you idiot, a part of him yells.
"...Uh," Loren manages.
this is off to a great start
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
"A most lovely catch, Captain," Anaitis speaks easily. The way they speak seems to carry their words rather melodiously, with effortless ease; never with stress or tension.
Flowing, like water.
Such is the way their hair also flows, in three colours; it's probably not regulation in many a regard, but neither are their fingernails, now is it?
"My apologies. I was not watching where I was walking," they smile.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He flushes faintly, mortified beyond belief. He'd imagined, sure, introducing himself someday, even if he didn't have the guts to do anything about it. But it had always been, well, something a little more suave. Collected. Self-assured.
None of which he is now.
Loren's grip tightens on the tablet -- is he being made fun of? ...Generally, this is not quite the tone others took with him in Jugend -- they ignored him or were direct about his failings -- but...
"Uh," he tries again, grip shifting on the tablet as if he were attempting to wield it as a sort of shield against the world, "So was... I?" he manages, making something that shouldn't have been phrased as a question into one. "--Er, that is, I... er."
He at least has the sense to stop here, pause, take a moment to try and recollect himself--
While also inwardly facepalming at how this is all going.
And try again.
"You're, uh, one of the engineers, right...?"
Good idea -- don't act like you already know their name, you don't want to seem like you're a stalker or desperate. Or a desperate stalker.
(It's probably not regulation, but as things go in Solaris: regulations don't matter for people who are talented enough...)
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
If Anaitis looks like they are bothered by the fumbling and flabbergasted behaviour Loren is (at least partially inwardsly) displaying, they do not seem to be bothered at all. There is an almost unnatural patience, with that soft little smile, as they waits for Loren to work through his phrasing.
"That is correct. Lieutenant Junior Grade, Anaitis Sura, of the engineering division."
Their legs are subtly crossed as they bow again; a Second-class citizen, and yet the poise in which they carry themselves seem almost too elegant.
"I was initially assigned to the Tzadkiel, but given what had happened, it took some time before I was assigned here to Assyria Base at long last."
The smile grows ever-richer.
"I hope I can be of service to you, Captain."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
The fact that Anaitis is so... patient through all this is almost more than Loren can stand. Here he is, fumbling with a completely normal social encounter like some sort of damn idiot, and they're just waiting for him to get it together.
Maybe... maybe there's hope. He can go and find that hole to die in after this is through.
"R-right, right."
Get ahold of yourself already. They're just Second Class. No wonder you're such a miserable failure -- act your rank! a part of him rants. Loren takes a breath, straightens his shoulders.
"Yes," he says, managing to not stumble over his words. "I am very sorry you went through that, Lieutenant Sura."
So far, so good.
"I'm, uh, we're working to ensure an incident of that calibur doesn't happen again."
That's almost befitting his rank in Gebler, nearly. He'll just have to work on making sure he doesn't stumble next time.
Then Anaitis smiles at him.
The kind of smile that makes it feel like his chest is wedged in a vise.
"..."
Don't get ahead of yourself, that ever-critical part of his mind chimes in.
"Then I don't suppose you would know the status of my Gear? Schiehallion," he says, adding its name for clarity's sake. "There had been a delay in its transfer, and then I was in the field, so, uh... that's why I was here."
...Naturally, he fails to entirely stick the landing here. So to speak.
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
There's something so cute and natural, so human, about the way Loren is seizing his way back up to something that he perceives as normalcy; of course, it seems like Anaitis would have no trouble with Loren no matter what he's acting like, and yet...
"It is a rather unusual incident, is it not...?" Anaitis admits, a long, painted finger to their lip. There is a soft, naked gloss to their lips. Wonderfully understated.
There is a flit of their eyes back towards Loren, when they notice that Loren is staring at their smile. Their blue eyes.
"I had been assigned to the maintenance and upkeep of Schiehallion several days ago. I believe that it should pass flight checks and be operational soon," Anaitis reports with a brief recollection. It seems like they have quite a lot of Gears to maintain ontop.
"I have not been out to the field for any operations," they admit. Then, as if mildly worried: "I am advised that, given my Ether records and a relative shortage of able personnel, I may have engage in some field operations. It would be my first time."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Something to Loren's expression grows a little more pained; on this, he speaks a little more openly, without the hesitation he had shown before.
"A lot of good people died... and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it." His gaze hardens; his jaw tightens. "If I had my Gear then, I would have..." He shakes his head, some of his animus spilling away. "...He's dead now. There's no point in me dwelling on it. We..." He pauses. "I won't let it happen again."
...Was that too much? Too forward? he can't help but wonder, in the end.
Too late for it now.
He's not sure if he remembers Anaitis smiling -- like that, or at all -- when he'd noticed them before. There's something about it that, as he regards the other's smile, he finds...
He'll never match the Commander's poise. But even for him, his pulse must be unusually elevated right now.
"Oh... you had?" He nods, as if to affirm this. "...You had. Right. Thank you, Lieutenant Sura. I appreciate your support. I understand we may have a expedition planned to the north." He hopes this won't involve a stopover at the northernmost base. He prays to any god listening this won't involve a stopover at the northernmost base.
A long pregnant pause follows, as Anaitis confides something in him.
"It's your first time?"
It's to some credit -- or perhaps simply just his soul temporarily exiting his body -- that Loren doesn't turn beet red after saying something like that.
He manages a recovery, simply by attempting to pretend nothing happened and charging on full speed ahead--
"I, er, have some field experience," yes dumbass that's why you got promoted "so I would be willing to assist you. Was there anything concerning you in particular? It's... really not as bad as it seems."
(it's worse)
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
There is a quiet blink from Anaitis, as if they noticed something. Something shifts in the air; the way someone assesses, as Loren's gaze lowers and hardens. Like a puzzle that had just come into view, clicked together. That curiousity is hidden behind a smile, however.
"That is the risk we all take, I suppose..." Anaitis expresses very softly. "And yet."
It's your first time?
Anaitis leans slightly forward in their posture; their hair flows, almost pulsating for a moment. They glance towards the side, towards a window.
"I have been trained in combat, of course. And I have experience from the emergencies that have occured aboard the Tzadkiel, and yet..."
There is a pensive hum, almost cloud-minded as they look up to the air.
Then a richer smile as Loren offers his assistance; like something just went flush, a burst of unpronounced happiness and relief. "Contact with the Drifters and other Lambs, perhaps... that is not something combat training and readiness scenarios can accomodate alone. I have not met the people of the surface. But your assistance would be most wonderful, Captain."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Slowly, some of the fire cooling within in, Loren nods. "Yes. That's what it means to be a soldier."
But I won't let it happen again. Not if I can help it.
Praise the Emperor. Anaitis does not make fun of him for the accidental innuendo. Loren in that moment vows to soldier onward, as befitting one of his station and rank.
Fake it until you make it has never quite seemed like the best tactical option before as it does now.
"But no practical experience with anything else?"
He's gentler -- in a sense, as tied up as it is in sheer awkward foot-in-mouth syndrome -- with Anaitis; with others of lower rank he would have sighed or made a remark, or otherwise acted like this was another burden.
He treats them not quite with the deference he reserves for those who outrank him but something similar.
Because he's almost daring to hope--
"I have... experience with Lambs and others not of the elect, yes. If it would not take you far from your duties here, perhaps you could," and maybe he's overstepping his bounds here, maybe he's presuming, but, Emperor-damn it, he's not going to let this go, "perhaps," he repeats, catching himself a moment here, "you could shadow me? I'm... not against it."
His motives, perhaps, are a little ulterior and hardly 'for the sake of Gebler's mission' alone, but if it means getting to spend a little more time with them, if it means 'maybe'...
He can't let the chance escape.
<Pose Tracker> Anaitis Sura has posed.
There is a longer moment still where Anaitis has their finger placed on their lip, in total silence and an unreadable expression.
Then there is a softer admittance as they remark, rather smoothly entering that flowing, almost breathless expressions of theirs: "No practical experience, I am afraid. My typical assignments only tend to draw me around hangars, ships and installments. I have heard of the many 'Ruins' that Drifters are drawn to..."
There is a helpless little shrug, still with that smile.
"But I am certain I would be able to learn with time."
Loren suggests, daring to hope, and there is a moment Anaitis's eyebrows raise--
"Oh?" they muse. "Shadowing you..."
A quiet, almost more soft hum. A bigger smile still. "Would that not be a burden? I would be glad. I think I could learn quite a lot from someone as seasoned as you, Captain."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He hesitates, visibly.
Hadn't... he just told Lan that he'd held off on assigning work to his subordinates because he feared what might come of them attempting to negotiate Lamb society without the appropriate experience? And here he is--
But this isn't the same thing, he tells himself. They're medics, the lot of them. They're good for what they're required to do, and barring some sudden pressing need are unlikely to be pushed into fieldwork.
But Anaitis... it sounds like they're likely to get reassigned due to their abilities, one way or another. This... this isn't the same thing, he decides.
"We... all start somewhere, Lieutenant," Loren replies, attempting to shoulder the persona of the superior officer at this stage, modeling it to some extent after the others he's known and seen. "And it's better for you to learn with someone else around."
That first expedition, he hadn't been alone, either.
Only after had he been left to sink or swim on his own.
...He can do better than that. He's-- going to do better than that.
"Yes. I think... there's room for another in my Gear," and he lifts a hand, fidgeting a moment with his glasses. "...If you were willing to accompany us. Major Sadalbari will be taking part, I believe, though I cannot speak for the hazards involved. I, er, think you would have to speak to her." He pauses a moment, shouldering past mentally the sense that he's taking the child's role here again. "--But if that's acceptable, and you wouldn't rather join something more, uh... ordinary, uh, one moment," he fumbles briefly here, trying to bring up his scheduling within his tablet and realizing it's fallen asleep, then dividing his attention between the Lieutenant and his screen as he taps in his password, "well, I was planning on heading to... Meria Boule," he continues, after skimming his calendar and ignoring (for now) the pileup in his inbox (again), "So... well..."
He gazes at Anaitis a long moment.
Burden... is that what they think.
It had just been appearance before. Just something that... beckoned him, somehow. But now, something in him almost seems to resonate with that admission.
...Because I know how that feels.
"I don't think you'd be a burden. Lieutenant Sura," and here, he's assured, almost supernaturally, for him. "I'd be happy to have you with me."