( tdm 12 )

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

leavin’ on a jet plane "Don’t know when I’ll be back again." ABOARD THE MOIRA The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged. You may notice a slight change in the artificial gravity every once in awhile; however, more noticeable changes can be found in overall morale of those of the crew. ☄ on your own There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) The day begins normally. Or almost. The Moira has accidentally fallen along the trajectory of an asteroid barreling its way through space. While most things like this are not uncommon, and the ship is far from any potential danger of collision or risk of debris damaging the exterior, there is something particularly odd about this specific occurrence. The rock itself appears to give off a strange light that is both eerie and alive. Often, if looked at in just the right manner, it will shift colors; so, while one person sees one side of the spectrum, someone else could see something entirely different. At first, things continue on as they usually do aside from the glowing asteroid alongside the Moira, but as the hours go on, that does not seem to be the case. ☄ the hours are breathing resignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lie With a rather open view of stars and space, thanks to the skylight above, the pool in the rec area suddenly comes alive beneath the light of the asteroid filtering in. Perhaps it’s some natural response to the chemical composition of the water, or perhaps it’s magic. Yet, regardless of the explanation, those who happen to take a dip suddenly find themselves plagued by despair. The depression and melancholy are not subtle changes either; it slams into you with great force, like a punch to the gut. The longer you remain in the pool, the deeper it grows, like an all-consuming paranoia that settles into the back of your mind and causes your heart to grow heavy. These strong feelings will eventually fade if you choose to leave the pool and dry off, but as long as you remain damp from the pool, those emotions will continue to linger. Even after you’re completely dry, there will be no mistaking just how intensely you felt or why. There is no explanation and might not be. Would you dare a second swim to test whether or not it was a fluke? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ those who have crossed the eyes are not here, there are no eyes here The walls are shrinking in. Every room you step into feels much too small, like there isn’t enough room to even breathe. A crowded place becomes startlingly empty, and no matter how much you run, how much you explore, there is no one there to comfort you or answer your calls for help. Hallucinations run strong between the lulls of obscene loneliness or claustrophobia, and exposure to the glow of the asteroid is really the only thing to thank for that. You’re desperate to claw your way out of the ship—open the emergency hatch in the Cargo Bay, bust the glass of the Observation Deck. What’s worse is that it’s not just you. It’s catching, and the fear of being next is very real. It feels like you’re being watched, that everyone around you is looking and seeing everything you are. Or are not. The only way to make it stop is to admit that you’re afraid of being seen, but who, in the deep madness of the self, has the courage to ever admit the truth? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ the sun in flight rage, rage against the dying of the light Something has drifted its way onto the Moira from the outside. Unlike the faint luminosity they give off, they suck up all the light around them, making them the only source to see by. From far away, they are just flitting balls of light, but if you get close enough to inspect them, they are mean. And have sharp, sharp teeth. Go poking, and they will bite you before trying to fly away while taking that only light source with them. The option to avoid them is quite easy if you’re not the curious sort, but without them around, it will be impossibly dark. As the asteroid moves on in the opposite direction of the Moira, these light creatures begin to dissolve and fade away with it. However, a word of caution: their bites glow. If you don’t manage to find the one that bit you and capture it between your hands, the bite will become a permanent glowing fixture of your body. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) OUT OF CHARACTER INFO FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

Comments

[hanzer]

[Swords and Shields, huh?

…Honestly, even if the man hadn't told him what the book was about, Adam probably would've gotten the gist just from glimpsing the cover. Incredibly, it looks exactly the way a trashy novel from his own world would look. Guess some things just don't change. Raising a brow – may I? – he picks up the book and leafs through a few pages at random, trailing over a sentence here or there.

Well. "Smutty literature." The guy certainly wasn't kidding.]

Funny. I know a guy like that, myself. [Poor Francis. As much as Adam thinks he and his scripts probably deserve it, getting five rejections from Picus TV is enough to elicit a wince from an even less sympathetic person than he is.] But I think your friend's efforts were more well-received.

Unless… [Halfway through skimming a particularly lurid passage, Adam shuts the book and places it back on the ledge where it belongs, front cover facing upwards. He taps it with a black, metal finger.] ...The five-star rating on the cover is just another part of his attempt at fiction?

[liberaltus]

[It's simply missing Fabio, with an obnoxiously pretty sunset, and a horse rearing back in the distance. Otherwise, yes, a picture is worth a thousand words and if a Dwarf, surrounded by women on the back cover was any indication of this book's hidden depths and its target audience...then perhaps Dorian didn't understand what it truly meant to be hit with a blunt object.]

I won't say that he doesn't have a target audience, there is something to be said for how well he's depicted his strong female lead. That's very attractive to strong women in my world...my only compliment. I am not sure I can properly understand the mechanics of ripping a bodice...those poor bursty women. [So why does Dorian persist in reading these novels? Obviously because he can't just stop, the only thing worse than terribly written smut was starting it and not seeing it to the disastrous conclusion.] I won't ask you if you'd like to borrow it, I have the entire collection, but I can tell you'd rather gnaw your own arm off. If only I had the courage, alas.

[hanzer]

[A smile. A wry one, but a smile nonetheless. Looks like he's capable of them!]

Nice of you to offer, but you're right – I can't say these are really my thing. [Not to mean books in general. He enjoys reading just about anything when he actually has the time, just… He's not sure he can read one of these and be capable of the same sort of morbid fascination that this guy evidently is. Adam would rather not watch a trainwreck, if he could help it.]

Adam Jensen, by the way. [He moves as if to offer his hand for a handshake – you know, the traditional way one greets another person upon meeting for the first time – but for a brief moment, an unreadable look passes over his face and he decides to pour himself another two fingers of rocket fuel instead.

It occurs to him, now, that he hasn't so much as given anyone a high five since the… Procedures. A veritable graveyard of shattered cups and glasses had been a testament to how difficult it was for him to learn to control the pressure his new limbs exerted on everything he touched. He's not sure he wants to try his luck with an actual flesh-and-bone human hand here, not quite yet.

Hopefully the guy doesn't notice.]

I'd offer you some [raising his glass with a slight grimace] but if I'm being real honest here, you'd probably be the one gnawing your own arm off if I did. Not a great way to make a first impression.

[liberaltus]

[It looks good on him, but Dorian will keep that to himself, he likes to get the measure of a person before overtly flattering them.]

Fortunately there is a vast library in this place with books that will not threaten to disintegrate your brain. [Dorian is a glutton for punishment, what can he say? That Dorian can read this sort of thing objectively and with a straight face, it was a miracle, but he was well practiced. He was a noble after all, that's one of the first things they teach you- show no humor in the face of humor. Unfortunately Dorian's personality wouldn't allow him to be that bloody serious.]

Dorian of House Pavus, a pleasure. [Dorian was beginning to recognize the signs of a handshake and he was very observant, so no, it didn't escape his notice. He didn't remark on it, however, reason being that he was guilty of making faux pas when it came to customary greetings. If this was his first introduction to such a custom he might have kissed the extended hand instead.

Maybe it was caution, Dorian understood caution and so he offered his own greeting, an elegant bow at the waist, appropriate enough where he came from, less touching involved.]

Oh, I can't imagine anything being much worse than Dwarven ale [Dorian made no effort to conceal his humor] but, truth be told, I am more of a wine drinker. I'd probably end up observing the effects of that concoction on my nausea and end up drinking more than I'd want to...and then gnawing my arm off. We are quite attached to one another.

[hanzer]

[That is certainly a greeting, and apparently "dapper" was a way better assessment of the guy than Adam had initially expected. The voice, the book's subject material, and this talk about dwarves and great houses is starting to come off very high fantasy to him. Can't really treat it as fiction anymore though, can he? Not when Lord Dorian Pavus himself is standing right there in front of him, looking fit to invite him to the cotillion.

Cotillions are way outside his wheelhouse, though– and so he just kind of gives an awkwardly stiff nod to Dorian's bow, not knowing how else he's supposed to respond to that (doesn't matter, whiskey will solve this problem.)]

To neither of us having to lose an arm.

[Adam's never been great at toasts, and the irony of that one in particular definitely doesn't escape him. No matter how closely the sculpt of his arms mimic real human musculature, there's no mistaking the black metal and mesh polymers for anything but.

He knocks the drink back, grimace becoming all the more pronounced for it. A pause.] Sorry if this sounds insensitive. But you're talking about... Dwarves, right? Short, bearded guys who sing songs and mine all day?

[liberaltus]

[Fortunately Dorian likes to avoid cotillions and fancy balls for the simple reason that there's always some ancient dowager there ready with a proposition. Flattering as it may seem to some, Dorian rather enjoys his life the way it is, more or less.

So, dapper as he might be, Adam doesn't have to worry himself over any sort of untoward invitations and hopefully Dorian won't have to either.]

Maker willing.

[Yes, Dorian is mister sensitive here, but he's still new to the concept of prosthetics that aren't wooden stumps or weapons attached to your arm. Still, he does know what an arm should look like and he also takes not that those sunglasses seem to be attached to his face.

He's chomping at the bit to ask questions, naturally, but distracted enough to postpone those questions when asked about Dwarves. It actually gets a laugh out of Dorian.] If you mean drinking songs and mining lyrium, then that sounds accurate enough. They craft marvelous weapons and build structures most could scarcely believe possible.

[hanzer]

I can imagine. [From what he knows of dwarves, anyway– which can fit in a teacup.] Still going to try to wrap my head around everything else before starting on the wonders of dwarven architecture, though.

[Setting his glass down (because that last drink had done a lot to convince him that it's time to take a break) Adam folds his arms and turns his gaze out the window again. Flaming space rock: still there, still burning with a weird, greenish light. Somehow, it kind of makes the inky field behind it seem all the darker by comparison.

What had Dorian said about the stars earlier? "They don't even register?" Adam frowns faintly, a deep crease forming between his eyes. Must be nice.]

At least it's encouraging to know that it's something you can get used to.

[liberaltus]

There's no rush, you've plenty of time, unless you're eager to leave. [He didn't think there was an obligation to stay here, but Dorian did his best to remove himself from politics.] As for getting used to it...well, I deal with some strange and unusual things where I come from, not that it becomes less eerie, but there is coping and then there is going mad. You brought ale, I would say that's a good start, but I could offer you something better if you need it...that almost looks like it pains you to drink.

[And when Adam takes a moment to turn his gaze to the space rock, Dorian lets himself observe him closely, objectively, but still curious. His hands are tucked under his arms, presently folded across his chest, but they appear to be more metal than flesh. Prosthetics? Dorian has seen them, not quite like this, but they were made of hard light...or something to the effect. He was mystified and interested in technology because he knew nothing about it.]

[hanzer]

[Having had enough of the view, he looks back around in time to catch Dorian– well, "observing" is the objective word for it, though Adam would be more likely to call it "staring." If this had been a few months ago, he'd probably have said something about it (more like growled something about it, really) but he's grown a little more accustomed to the looks since then.

Besides, it's different here. Everyone's a curiosity now, he supposes.]

That's– very kind of you. [And his (almost imperceptibly) deepening frown suggests that the next word out of his mouth is going to be "but…"

But what? It feels like it's been ages since he's had a conversation that didn't have some larger purpose behind it, with someone that he wasn't trying to drag answers out of. Since the attacks, Adam had always dreaded small talk, assuming (rightly, in most cases) that it'd end up drifting towards the inevitable but how do you deal with it conversation. And always the looks he'd get– pitying, fearful, sometimes outright hateful. It'd been more than enough to put him off the whole human interaction thing for a good while.

...No reason it has to be that way here, though. And he won't find out if it is until he tries.

Adam lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, eventually nodding his assent.] Why not? I obviously don't have an eye for what the good brands around here are. [He rubs the back of his neck. Can an asteroid stare?] Besides, I think the view's lost its charm.

[liberaltus]

[It could be worse, he could be staring luridly, as was what Dorian's default flirtatious nature suggested that he do when it came to most anyone. He was a gentleman at heart however, so he kept such things to a minimum. Some people just had a natural kind of resistance to his overwhelming personality and he wasn't quite certain if Adam was the type yet or not.

Though perhaps if he did put a bit of that playful luridness into his gaze it would offset any discomfort? Or make it worse? Regardless, he was more fascinated by such things and less judgmental, he was different from most of his peers back home...though sometimes he found it difficult to shake certain ideas given the prevalence of them in his world.]

As long as you do not mind following me all the way to the Mero Deck, I keep the good stuff in my possession, naturally. [Especially since Dorian seems to be one of the few people on this ship who thinks a good drink shouldn't taste like vinegar. Then gain, certain supplies were more limited than others and he managed to stock up on wine when they were last docked. Among other things, but fine wine was very important.]

[hanzer]

You'd be doing me a favor, honestly. I don't think I've explored even a tenth of the ship yet.

["Honest" would be also telling Dorian that he'd kind of made a beeline for the bar once he'd been informed it was a thing, and so he hasn't had the opportunity to familiarize himself with any more of the ship– but Adam considers that sort of information to be on a need-to-know basis. It isn't as if the alcohol can really damage him – his health maintenance systems are nothing if not effective (too effective) – but he's not really looking to give anyone the impression he's a raging alcoholic.]

May want to be careful though. Saw some of these... [He mimes a blobby sort of shape with his hands. Could be anything, really.] ...Jellyfish things, on the way here.

[Giving up the attempt at description, Adam grabs the bottle and glass. If he leaves it behind, some innocent bystander could pass by and think to sample its contents; he's not going to be the one to inflict that on them.

He shrugs lightly.] They didn't look dangerous, but I kind of got the impression that they weren't supposed to be there. Call it a hunch.

[liberaltus]

I've not had much time to explore the ship myself, and oddly enough, every time I think of the bloody thing as a ship I begin feeling a bit seasick. Odd, yes?

[Pity, because Dorian rarely hides the impression that he is a raging alcoholic, he's just very good at acting like a normal person when he drinks. It helps that he's gotten so good at it that he's learned not to mix his drink, sticking with wine when it's available. Why else would a man have his own wine stores in his quarters.

He was also a man who knew when to be sober as well, so it could be worse, it could be a lot worse.]

Oh? I don't suppose that would be the strangest thing I've seen since I've been here. [Granted, Dorian has had a lifetime of strange things.] If they do decide to come between us and good alcohol, I'm here, I'll protect you.

[It's at this point Dorian dips his toes in the water.] Not that you need it, yes? You do look rather strapping.

[hanzer]

[Maybe not as odd as Dorian says. And if Adam were capable of seasickness, he might think the same!

Charming phrasing on that last comment, though. A snort that can kind of pass for a laugh.] Nice of you to notice.

[But he's had no truck with romance and interpersonal contact and whatnot for more than half a year (having been distracted by a near-death experience, kidnapped ex, etc.) and so, for all his powers of observation, Adam does an incredible job missing most of the subtext in Dorian's words. The way he reacts – doesn't react – might be indication enough that no, he didn't pick up on that. Or maybe it'll just come off as par for the course for him, impassiveness and all.

(Give him a few minutes, and it'll finally hit him that he's sharing private stores of wine with a man who apparently finds him "rather strapping.")

He shifts his weight so he's no longer leaning on the window.] I can take care of myself. And you, if it comes to that.

Don't see any weapons on you, though. [An arched brow.] So I'm guessing you're magic?

[He's joking, mostly, and it's just barely audible in his tone. Swords, shields, dwarves– only thing that's missing is an elf and a wizard, right?]

[liberaltus]

Of course I notice, that only takes eyes. [Dorian could lay it on thick if he wanted, but he was sparing Adam the full force of his personality before he'd had any wine in him. The way people react to him varies widely from person to person, there was a general acceptance, but that didn't mean everyone was open and he could do boundaries.

If he needed to. Was asked to.

Still, they had only just met and Dorian would have plenty of time to get the measure of him, but for now he would lead the way I the direction back to the living sector. He'll have enough time to figure it out between the observation deck and his shared room.]

Oh? Truth be told, I do enjoy being taken care of. [Well, he did look the part of a man who was well pampered and cared for, even if he was the one doing most of the caring for himself.

The question, however, earned Adam a velvety chuckle.]

I don't know how anyone can see with sunglasses on, but clearly you see quite a bit.

[And without further ado Dorian holds up his hand, electricity sparking between his fingers. He wasn't casting a spell or anything, he was just emitting enough magic to prove the man's theory.] I am a mage. I do have a staff, but it acts more like a conduit for my spells.

[hanzer]

[As for the sunglasses, well: his vision is augmented.

Pretty much every part of Dorian's response, from his choice of words to the light show, earns him both raised brows from Adam; the surprised look, obvious even with the shades on, is just about the strongest show of emotion he's made this entire conversation (and apparently it only took six more seconds for him to finally catch on!)

So– he's flirting.

The attention's not an annoyance, per se, but… Preferences aside, his relationship situation's a little Complicated with a capital "C." And (regardless of how good the wine turns out to be) he's not quite ready to explain how he'd gone through hell to hunt down and save his "dead" ex-girlfriend, only to find that she'd been a willing captive of the people who'd turned him into the half-machine thing he is today. Just call what he has the mother of all hang-ups.

But assuming that he has to explain any of that whenever Dorian throws a compliment in his direction isn't exactly fair to him, so– acceptance it is, at least until any more overt moves are made. He's kind of getting the impression that the guy's a chronic flatterer, anyway.

Eventually he realizes his mouth is slightly agape (mostly at the show of magic) and he hastily wipes the look off his face. A few seconds pass in silence before Adam speaks up again, keeping pace at Dorian's side. By then, his tone's back to its usual neutrality.]

Well, I guess I called it– but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still surprised. Can everyone do that, where you're from?

[liberaltus]

[Given that Dorian wouldn't recognize a relationship if it were dancing naked right in front of him, he would take it a step further and suggest that all relationships are complicated. He'd never been permitted to have one other than the relationship his parents told him he would have. A relationship like theirs as a matter of doing his duty to the family. It didn't appear to make either one of them very happy and his fiancé loathed him as much as he loathed her.

The situation was stickier than that, but Dorian liked thinking about it almost as much as he liked talking about it. Regardless, while Dorian had his own preferences, he flirted with anyone on two legs. He wasn't a habitual seducer, in spite of his history for it and complete debauchery, but an unapologetic flirt.

And until or unless such things bothered or made someone uncomfortable, not that he wasn't tactfully complimentary, he would continue on.

Dorian is, at least partially, amused by Adam's reaction to it all. It's the strongest expression of emotion he's shown so far, granted magic tends to be impressive to most people aboard the ship. Impressive, or weird because they couldn't make sense of it.

Dorian felt the same way about technology.]

No, not everyone, and it is the reason why being a mage is complicated in my world. In the North mages are revered as tyrants, in the South they are stigmatized and rounded up to spend their lives behind great big walls.

[hanzer]

[Adam can't say he'd expected this to be the first shared experience he could admit to– but he's not exactly surprised either. He sighs, a faint tiredness seeping into his voice. Always the same.]

Seems like some things just don't change, one world to another. People are always looking for ways to draw dividing lines between themselves, set themselves apart.

[He raises a hand to one temple, frowning; his retinal implant is still streaming confused warnings about nearby electrical hazards down the sides of his vision. Clearly, the designers had never thought to account for magic when putting these things together. After a few distracted seconds, he shakes his head and continues:]

Augs – people like me, I mean – they can experience similar treatment. A lot of it depends on where you're from, or how well off you are.

[Even with the riots and protests, things aren't nearly as bad as they could be where he's from– which is why Adam doesn't say "we." Or… They weren't. Who's to say what things are going to be like now, after the massacres? He might be looking forward to a great, big wall in his future as well.

He won't ask whether Dorian's one of those Northern or Southern mages – if it really is anything like his own situation, then it's likely to be a bit of a sensitive topic.] I wish I could say that things were different. But "complicated" is the right word for it.

[liberaltus]

I suppose there is something intrinsic within the nature of all beings who are compos mentis. Thinking, improving, becoming better, becoming better than...

[Dorian dismissed the bit of magic he performed just moments before, hopefully that would put an end to any hazardous warnings, not that Dorian knew what was going on with his companion's body.]

And mages are the same way. Where I come from, it is a cautionary tale, much as I cannot grasp the idea of my people being rounded up in circles to live the rest of their lives away from people who might hurt them, away from people they might hurt. It's all so convenient. There is the opposite argument as well, mages who rule strictly, tend to abuse their power.

[And Dorian wasn't entirely certain where to find the equilibrium there.]

I'd enjoy nothing more than beating the corrupt systems my homeland stands on into submission, but...

[...but. It was more complicated than that, and he was one man.

Though it did answer the question of where Dorian came from, he came from the place where mages were corrupt tyrants and he had no reserves talking about it. His skin was thicker than that and time had given him an open mind.

There were other things that he was far more sensitive about than the corruption in his homeland.] I think complicated is the only word for anything, no matter the day, no matter the era. Still, I'd rather try to navigate the situation then idly sit by and let it continue.

[hanzer]

[Well that answers that unspoken question: Northern it is, then.

Adam understands, to some degree (as much as he can really say he understands, given what little he's heard so far.) It's one thing to rise up as part of the oppressed, but when one's part of the elite… There's this responsibility, one feels, to use every advantage they've been granted to change things for the better. Whether it's magic, or augmentations, or anything else.

(It's that conviction what's been the only thing keeping him from completely losing it every time he accidentally catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.)]

The world could use more people that think the way you do. Either of our worlds.

["Gentle" isn't a word anyone could possibly use to describe it, but Adam's voice loses a bit of its usual edge when he says that. It's too tempting to think of himself as one person against the world, that he can trust no one but himself… But if even a quarter of the people on the ship have the same attitude Dorian has, then things could be different here.]

Anyone who's been in power that long– they've found ways to hold onto it. [A pause.] But if I know one thing for sure, it's that nothing lasts forever.

[liberaltus]

[Dorian doesn't see what Adam sees when he looks in the mirror, but he can tell that the man has his own inner demons, whatever they may be. He's seen plenty of inner demons to know when they're being cloistered inside the body like a poison. For the mage, it's the compliment that catches him off guard.

He's used to compliments, certainly, about his appearance and his skill with magic. It wasn't very often people said anything good about his character or suggested that there should be more people that think like him. It was enough to make him speechless, and that didn't happen often.]

Rare to get it, hard to keep it...power is such a slippery beast, people will do anything for it...defy death...become gods or parasites. [Ugh, this wasn't exactly a pleasant topic.] Ah, nothing lasts forever, that's the only thing that gives anything meaning.

[hanzer]

[The reaction doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds it an interesting one. No way a guy like this is unused to compliments – not with the way he hands them out – so it's something else that got to him. For a moment, Adam's tempted to activate his CASIE mod, see what it has to say about a personality like Dorian's... But he's never liked the idea of using that particular aug just to satisfy his own curiosity.

He shakes his head, offering another one of those wry half-smiles.] Way this conversation is heading, I'm really starting to wonder if you've got enough of that wine.

[In lieu of said wine (and the effects of the whiskey having long since worn off, thanks Sentinel RX Health System!) it's best to head this talk off before it gets much heavier. He's not entirely sure how large the ship actually is, but they must be getting close to the housing decks. A change of subject – a segue, really.] So how about the people who are in charge here, then – what are they like?

[Because while he knows there are captains, he doesn't even have an idea of what they look like. He's always found, though, that the best way to get stock of a CO is to see what the people working beneath him say about him. Any bit of information he can have when going into actually dealing with them will be an advantage.]

[liberaltus]

Unfortunately, there is no such thing as enough wine and my supplies are limited, but I wouldn't mind expending it in pleasurable company. [Returning the wry smile with an inviting one of his own, he's quick to mask the surprise he felt with his own typical brand of flirtatious flippancy.

The walk from the deck G to deck P isn't a long one, before Dorian even realized it, the door to the main hall was sliding open. Mero deck was sterile, polished, and almost too white for his taste. Still, it could be worse, it could be abundantly colorful or rustic and bland...but it was clean and that was the most important thing.]

The people who are in charge? The captains you mean? I don't know how in charge you would say they are, but if I had to give you the measure of them...so far, they seem incompetent at best, negligent at worst. They seem to have their own agenda. [Dorian hasn't known them long, so his opinion might be a bit snap.] Then again we are coming off of the back end of a battle that could have gone better.

[hanzer]

[That's quite the decisive answer. Adam isn't quite able to stop himself from raising a brow at that response– it's not as if he thinks Dorian's necessarily lying or being overly critical, but... There's bound to be more at play here. Or maybe that's just him really hoping beyond hope that people aren't being dragged here from all these different universes due to a glorified clerical error, or anything like that (though he certainly doesn't need to make excuses for these captains, not when he hardly knows them.)

The change of scenery is a distraction – this hospital corridor is supposed to be part of the living quarters? – but he resists the urge to stop and take it all in, instead insisting on pushing the point. Dorian's given him a taste of information; his curiosity's clearly piqued.]

I'm not looking at a Lord of the Flies situation here, am I? [Ah, right– that particular reference is probably lost on him. Quickly he adds:] Or what I mean is– you're not saying the crew is basically just governing itself, are you? Someone must be giving the orders.

[It's harder than he'd like to admit, imagining a life without direction. Probably why he finds it as unrealistic as he does. Adam's brow furrows.] If not, I... Can't say I'm surprised this battle didn't go as well as it could have.

[Might sound a little judgmental, but given Dorian's comments so far, he's pretty sure the guy's not going to take it to heart.]

[liberaltus]

I have to assume that when individuals who are fresh aboard the ship feel the right to dictate a justice system then one must wonder about the authority of our captains. I haven't been here long enough to make judgement calls, perhaps...they seem to have their own rules and...

[Ah, finally. Dorian opens the door to his quarters, the rooms on the Mero deck are nice, sterile, clean, and that is something to be grateful for. However, each room had three spacious beds and very little in the way of privacy.]

They do dictate our living situation, there is an unspoken agreement that since we are here then there are certain things we are to comply to as conditional. I won't say that they have no authority, but it feels like an absentee parent, that there is more agency within the crew to fix problems and less with the captains.

[Dorian was, clearly, a difficult man to offend and simply nodded in agreement of the battle outcome.] Yes, we are alive, we won, but we've lost pieces of the ship and then there's this-

[There was a reason that Dorian favored robes with high collars They easily concealed his neck and the parts of his face he wanted concealed. Tugging the collar back, one can see that the skin along his neck and jaw had been transformed into glass.]

Most of us did not walk away unscathed. It's difficult to look at without thinking "what if it breaks?"

[hanzer]

[From what Adam can gather, this ship seems like a powder keg of a situation. What is uniting these people besides a (presumably) common goal to reach their destination and get home? No one's saying that they need a tyrant of a ruler (or a captain, as the case may be) but without proper authority…

They're at the room now; he uses it as an excuse to glance around, arms folded, opinions carefully kept to himself for the time being. This isn't something he can fix on his own – and if Dorian hasn't been here long enough to make any judgment calls, then Adam certainly hasn't – so he's not going to gain anything by spitballing ideas just yet. He'll need to see how things operate, in person, before really deciding how he feels. His slowly deepening frown is all that gives away any of his thoughts.

The rooms are clean, sterile, white – like a LIMB clinic operating room. Not singles, he notes, fixating on the three beds while Dorian continues to speak. Shared spaces. Great – just like summer camp, he thinks wryly. Motion in the corner of his eye prompts him to look back around at Dorian in time to see the collar come down and…

A sharp intake of breath.] Jesus…

[Stupidly, he almost asks, "Can't you just heal it with magic?" Clearly not, otherwise Dorian would've done it already. Even as he stares, eyes tracing lines back and forth across the smooth sheen of glass several times just to be sure, his retinal implant continues to offer its expert analysis: weak points just below the jawline, ideal targets in the event of attack and also the number one reason that the person he's looking at should already be dead. Adam manages not to groan aloud – at the rate he's running into unexplainable phenomena, his threat analysis module is going to be in dire need of an update, and soon.]

More magic? [It's the best he's got. Adam takes a step forward, unfolding his arms – but seeming unsure of what to do with them (in stark contrast to the casually confident way he carried himself before.) He's not a doctor by any means, what could his hands possibly do to help?] What the hell kind of enemies were you dealing with, that could do something like that?