( how it happened, no one understands. as no one understands the nature of thunder and the pull of the ocean, aside from 'by the gods'. but one day, a stranger in unfamiliar clothing and speaking a hitherto unheard dialect wandered through the city gates of mytilene, and they were all richer for it.
rumour spred quickly, and when gorgo heard, she knew it was the answer to her prayers at the temple. she burned incense for apollo at their home altar, then, and for hera and for zeus, too, and she went to meet the stranger, her father accompanying her because the polyanaktides family was nothing if not skilled in trade.
whatever the stranger had brought along, they would have it.
and they would be richer for it.
like so, the next newcomer will be met in the agora by a redheaded woman and an elderly man who prefers to stay quietly in the background, letting his daughter do the talking, isn't that what a singer is for? wordsmithing. she smiles at them, inclines her head and looks around, gesturing softly but in a deceptive manner.
she is not soft. neither does she mean it softly. )
Be greeted. I can tell, you're not from around these parts. Has your journey been pleasant?
( she asks, knowing from the last arrivals, that the journey is nought in comparison, it is the displacement that proposes the issue. they are not where they belong; they know, and she knows. it is evident for all to see.
yet, she doesn't address it further than that. there is some ironic sting to it. )
[The girl who arrives next may not be the exact mark Gorgo was looking for... Or maybe she is. Who knows? Japanese features, but strikingly bright red hair. For some reason, she doesn't have human ears, but rather fox ears on top of her head, and a bushy fox tail coming from behind her. Her clothes are... well, an oversized modern t-shirt, stolen from a thrift store, with a belt with a pouch at the side turning it into a dress, long socks, and ill-fitting boots.
But perhaps most strikingly, she wears a strange, mechanical device on her left wrist.
She stares back at Gorgo, but she is making no effort to hide her hostility. She's sizing her up for danger- Is she the one who brought her hear? A monster in disguise? Someone powerful? Will she have to fight her? She flexes her hand, ready to start brawling at a moment's notice, but seemingly unwilling to make the first move. She doesn't look very strong, but she carries herself like someone with a lot of confidence in her physical ability...]
"Journey", my ass. Who the hell are you, and what is this place?
( by now, they are beginning to notice, there is truly no limit to what the gods will bring to mytilene, and it is not gorgo's job to judge what can and will be useful to the city at length. there are other people, most of them men, far out of her circles, who make these decisions. she is here to learn, to gather information like flowers. and, naturally, to show their hospitality.
as well as to secure her own reputation and status as the preferred singer of the city, of the whole island.
currently, though, hostility is radiating off the woman who has surely been touched by some god, with those ears and the tail, so hospitality seems a far-fetched thing to send for and to show and to give her. regardless, gorgo beckons for her father who comes over and carefully hands her an amphora, starkly decorated, that she takes and holds out in offer. )
Welcome to Mytilene. This is Lesbos in the great Empire of Hellas. My name is Gorgo. ( the large flask is extended another inch, almost like an intangible nudge. ) Please receive our gift of gratitude.
( the olive oil, virgin and fine in quality, sloshes around loudly inside. )
[Touched by some god... Gorgo is so much more right than she knows.
Empire of Hellas? Mytilene? Lesbos? Well, she is lesbian, but- That's probably not what that means. Right? Unless they're messing with her. But surely not. She doesn't know any of these words or names...
And that gift. A weird jar of... What is it?
She's of two minds. If this is an illusion- Which, of course, it must be- She needs to transform, find the one responsible, and beat them down as fast as possible. But if this somehow isn't an illusion, transforming is giving herself away, and she has to avoid that at all costs. A masked superhero can't work if people know who's under the mask, after all.
She hates not knowing. Normally, she can just throw her power around to find the situation out, but here, having arrived in this state...
It's too dangerous. She's certain she can take this lady and the other guy- Her dad? Uncle? Some weird servant? With ease. But without knowing anything, she might end up trapping herself.]
I've never heard of any of those names. Go.... "Gorgo"?
[She's mangling the pronunciation, but she's actually trying to get it right. She's just not very good at it.]
( different pronunciations are common enough, with travellers and foreigners living among them, that gorgo doesn't react to it. the woman is trying, and that is enough assimilation to pass, to fit in. instead, gorgo is curious as to her unfamiliarity with the oil. do they not know olives where she is from? is she from so far away, a time and place where they don't grow? do they not import it from here as so many other places do that are in a shortage? one eyebrow goes up slightly, and she tips the amphora to pour a small portion of the oil onto the ground.
in her mind, she gives a prayer, so that the valuable foodstuff won't be wasted. the gods can have it. as a libation. )
It is olive oil. For food prepation and for bath. We wish you not to go hungry and to get comfortably clean.
( another nudge of the amphora now, take it, it means. )
I was named after the gorgon, Medusa, whose head Athena wears on her shield. Is that story familiar to you?
[She jumps back as the amphora tips, like she thinks the stuff that comes out might be poison.
Cooking? Cleaning? Most of the food she's ever eaten was either microwaved or stolen, and as for baths... A city fountain or sneaking into a public bath was good enough. She slowly steps forward again...]
... "Medusa"...? [She furrows her brows. She's a little better at pronouncing that, at least- Like she's got some previous familiarity with the word.]
Wait, yeah. That's the word that snake creep who kept turning people into statues kept saying before I blew them to hell.
... Is that oil supposed to turn things to stone or something?
( a smile. it isn't friendly, but it's not hostile or antagonizing either. proud, perhaps. deceptive. she always took pride in being named after the 'snake creep' that held such power, until she was cut down. but all must go the way of the underworld.
she wipes a few stray drops off the edge of the amphora and rubs it into the skin of her fingertips, showing her hand. that, at least, is a friendly gesture. she inclines her head. )
It will smoothen and soften your skin. It will flavour your food. It is a valuable gift from this land.
( her smile gains that recognizable sharpness once more, as if she is a little bit amused. without mockery, only ironic distance. to the girl in front of her. to the situation as it looks to her, a commentary from the gods. )
And since you are a valuable gift to this land, we trade equally.
[Ha. Smooth and soft? Yeah, like a weapon needs that. Her eyebrows lower, and she gives her best withering stare.]
Let's cut the shit. What do you actually want? If that oil's that valuable as you're making it sound, no way you're giving it as a 'gift'. You want something in return.
You're calling me a 'gift', but you mean a 'tool', don't you? So try being honest for a bit.
[She's getting frustrated. Angry. She tries to keep her anger bottled up, but she hates, more than anything else, being lied to. Being deceived. Even if it's not a 'lie', per se, she can tell Gorgo isn't being entirely honest. And that's raising her hackles.]
( on day three after their arrival, the newcomers are called to the bouleuterion, the city hall, to register with the administration. myrsilus considers this an essential event, and thus deigns to be present, watching over the scribe as the man copies down the letters that spell out each stranger's name, foreign sounds, foreign pronunciation. then, while the scribe walks over to catalogue the parchment roll, he turns to their new less-than-citizen, more-than-foreigner. an odd in-between status. he will have to consider how to utilize this, utilize it, but not weaponize it.
he repeats the newcomer's name as best he can, then asks, with a serious expression: )
[Tayrey is biding her time. It's a strange kidnapper that keeps their distance and lets their victims wander around unconfined, but that hardly does her much good since there appears to be no way offworld at all from here. Not taking away her weapons is similarly odd, but the young officer suspects that the locals don't even know what they're looking at. She hasn't revealed what she's capable of, not yet. She demanded to be returned to her ship, of course, but she's not about to lose her temper with people who aren't to blame. When she acts it'll be at the right time. To her advantage instead of being likely to leave her in a worse position than she started from.
That doesn't mean she's going to be co-operative. Authorities demanding registration aren't popular in her sector; she'd be skeptical even under the best of circumstances. As it is, all the official scribe gets from the woman in the bright blue spacer uniform is her name, her rank, and a flash of a card printed in an entirely foreign script. It isn't her fault if it isn't understood.
Then there's this man. She has to give him credit for the effort. Most people have trouble remembering Lieutenant Arilanna Lorenza Kittredge Carrington Tayrey, but he makes a valiant attempt. It softens her approach enough that she doesn't simply ignore his question. He's not responsible for this, no reason to take it out on him.]
( she is unlike any woman he has met. she may come from a society unlike theirs, to have grown up to be like this, and myrsilus finds that both intriguing and concerning. he recognises that allowing an element like her to walk free among them can taint their own kind, she may inspire or she may teach, but such is the risk of foreigners at any point. you cannot want the honey and expect not to be stung by the bee. it is either-or.
her defiance doesn't provoke him, but he takes it to heart and regards her with a frown, not in displeasure, but he doesn't show his approval either, for he doesn't approve. she is giving him cheek. even gorgo, who shows her own defiance in her own way, would never dare. as he doesn't understand where she is from, this lieutenant, she obviously doesn't understand what his position entails either.
he allows this. accepts it. honey and bee. )
You let a hired man rule over you?
( that is what he knows of captains. they are skilled workers, but they are nonetheless workers and they work for you as long as you are underway. after that, your bond is nought and he rules no more than he gets paid. )
[If she were here on Tradeline business, Tayrey would do her best to understand the customs and social structure of this place, to observe diplomatic niceties. Even moreso because she's well aware it isn't one of her particular talents.
She's here against her will. No contract. She owes nothing to any of them, not even peace. So she hasn't bothered.
Faint surprise registers on her face at his next question, because it's close enough to one class of critical remarks those who dislike the Tradelines might make, to needle her. As if they were nothing more than amoral mercenaries totally beholden to those they fought for. Except that Tayrey has told this man nothing about the Tradelines, so it can't be that.]
I follow the orders of my captain, as is my duty. [Stiff pride in that correction.] And he negotiates contract on equal terms with those who require our services.
( he notes her stiff pride, the way she adheres to this idea firmly and gladly, the way he adheres to the will of the gods and tradition. watching her for a long moment, trying to gauge her feelings on this matter beyond the obvious dislike she's showing of her entire situation, myrsilus finally huffs and nods his head, not to accept, but to assure her, he listens, he is trying to understand.
she is bringing something to this place that they need. he doesn't know what yet, but he believes in the gods, she is here for good reason.
he must utilize this. )
Bonds matter to you.
( it is an observation, neutral. )
You are registered in our administration now, your name lives amongst ours. What bond does that create between you and us?
[Again, there's no hostility in her amendment, but it's firm. She wants to be clear about who she is and what she stands for, even while she keeps all the specifics to herself. Values stand independent of culture.]
Giving you my name creates no contract. Contract is created with consent, and had I been invited here, and accepted the invitation as a representative of my people, that would have been a link between us. A matter of courtesy and obligation. But I was brought here against my will. I owe you nothing. I owe it to my own people to escape and return to my duty.
[Tayrey's words are careful and calm. Of course she's heard their explanation: that it's the work of their gods. That makes absolutely no difference to atheist Tayrey. Gods can come to the table and negotiate too, not violate people's rights.]
[ Unlike the wary behavior of some of the guests, Kirschtaria has fully embraced the hospitality with good humor. To visit the City Hall, he changed from his bloodied suit to wear a borrowed set of garments of a linen tunic and a cloak. 'When in Rome do as Romans do' as the saying goes. He still keeps his laced-up designer's shoes, a sapphire pin-shaped mystic code clipped on his cloak, and carries his ivory specter with him always. As someone with fish-out-of-time experiences in his journey through the Singularities, Wodime foresees no problem in adapting whether this is a true Singularity, a simulation, or, even more wondrous, the past.
He fulfills his civic duty with good spirits, thinking it would be distasteful to be discourteous and overcomplicate the lives of the public servants of Mytilene. He has nothing to hide, waiting in line until he answers with polite confidence that he is name is Kirschtaria Wodime, a UK-born and raised citizen.
Is there a reason he should be cross by being revived again without demanding payment this time? He had many conflicted emotions when he appeared days ago, staring at the blue of the sea and tasting the salt in his mouth. Just a few seconds earlier, the young mage had been listening to his Servant's unfinished words (oh my, Caenis will be angry his Master was so rude to pass away midsentence) as he looked at the floating pillars and the twinkling stars above. Although Zeus' and his goal could not align, he had protected Olympus as he had vowed in his sworn friend's place. It would peacefully dissolve like a dream rather than suffer the humiliation and conquest from the Fairy Queen of the distant Britain Lostbelt or the newborn Foreign Planet's God's hunger. Disappointed he failed, yet hopeful that humanity would still survive this trial, he had burned the left of his life to pass his torch to someone else...
But, in the end, his true conclusion remains pending. It isn't the first time or second that he gets a new chance. Nonetheless, unlike those previous opportunities, he starts over with considerably healthier. At the very least, he has recovered his lost body mass, and his hands look smooth rather than aged.
He cants his head in acknowledgment at the best effort to pronounce his name. Because even if there is a mistake, human nature thrives despite them. ]
Good question. [ Kirschtaria says, smiling mildly, while he deliberates if it is wise to reveal this information. If it is the past, something could change by introducing concepts from the far future. He has also been a member of an organization that watches over these peculiarities endanger the presence.
One person knowing will not make an impact, he concludes. ] We call our government a "parliamentary constitutional monarchy." The crown is passed through a hereditary system, but the royal's role is more symbolic, ceremonial, and diplomatic than exercising true power. The Parliament, divided into the House of Lords and House of Commons, the Prime Minister and his Cabinet are the ones that officially govern in Her Majesty's name.
[ He finishes, waiting for the inevitable follow-up interrogation. Extra-officially, there are corporations and shared international interests, and behind those, a world of mages and other creatures pulling the strings from the shadows of the modern world to secure their secrets. ]
( at this point, myrsilus has overseen the notation of several newcomers and while many have been wary, uncertain, strangers in their land in every way imaginable, few have yet shown what use they may have to lesbos, to mytilene.
he looks at this man, who has donned local clothing and thus, could be mistaken for one of them, if not for the jewellery and the accessories, so removed from anything they are familiar with on this island. it takes all his composure, not to ask about them, not to indicate he has noted their existence with a sense of want. the way you want gold, when gold is not to be found in your own soil. the way you import wine and olive oil, if olives and grapes will not grow where you are.
the rarity of a thing doubles its value, not only in monetary terms. it is human nature. to want. sappho was right about that, if nothing else.
but this man presents himself as immediately useful and myrsilus listens with quiet fascination. a king, but others rule for him. he is a symbol of power, but only a symbol?
strange.
dangerous. )
Why would you bother putting a man on the throne, if he does not rule directly? I have advisors and men of importance to debate with, naturally, but the decisions when final are mine. Why else would I be this city's leader?
( if there is some skepticism in his voice now, he doesn't stress it. he doesn't let it overtake. but there is a feeling of, these are our ways, do not think to bring yours into play. )
[ All men want something. Longing is inescapable to human nature... and the source of many trappings to those who lose themselves amidst their quests. Even after they pass on — as long as their desire continues — they are still acknowledged as as part of the world. The living may choose to pick up those unfinished remnants.
Kirschtaria's the most ambitious among men and one of the most selfless. All he wanted was never power for himself but to elevate the rest of humanity so they could create a better world without him. His idealistic viewpoint does not mean he is blind to power struggles. Uninterested? Absolutely, but he is a mage from an old aristocratic family. Partaking in politics behind the scenes was less of a pastime and more a requisite of survival in the Clock Tower. Until he could leave that behind to travel to Antarctica and join Chaldea in his twenties, he had to juggle the three factions that courted his support as the "shining crown jewel" in the Association.
He discerns the subtle underlying wariness of the inquiry, hanging like an unstated warning. Understandable, too. This man rules, and he hears of a powerless, symbolic monarch existing elsewhere. His smile remains unfaltering as it is the courtesy of his voice. ]
The delicate balance of power between people is complicated, forged across generations, centuries before I was born. I would require hours to answer satisfactorily with the context that led to this.
[ He excuses himself, eyes darting too at those present, scribes and those waiting behind him. He wondered if Theseus was real in this version of Ancient Greece or if democracy as a concept would emerge only after Cleisthenes' reforms in the next century. Both are true to Wodime, but what about them? Hm. He'd rather avoid speaking of the local variables for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the future. ]
But if you are wondering why the society I hail from still maintains the royal family? I believe it is a combination of cultural prestige, a brand to make the country stand out, and profit. People from other places visit our cities and lands, partly because they are curious or fascinated with the concept of royalty from ages past. This means our economy greatly benefits from their existence.
[ The media coverage is also a bonus. But elaborating that would lead to unnecessary confusion. The royal family is, in other words, a product they sell as much as an essential pillar of national identity with plenty of cultural value.
He does not and will not debate why he should give up his power. He thinks he was clear in the implication that hadn't been willing during the shift. ]
( her husband is away, which is either her luck or his misfortune, with the whole city vibrating from excitement, buzzing from rumours. more strangers, it is whispered among the elite, to which she only belongs now because myrsilus favours those who have money to invest in his politics. once, status was something you were born into, and rest assured, the tyrant still is, but she is of a new class. she has earned her worth.
or, strictly speaking, her husband has, but she lives in his house and is there more frequently than him anyway.
it is this house, the house of meleager, which she sends word to the newcomers that they are welcome to visit. she arranges for a gathering in the courtyard, has her servant play the lyre for entertainment, because one cannot have the poets do everything, and sets out fruit, wine mixed with water, bread and olive oil to dip it in. it would be a symposium of sorts, if she were a man.
she is not, so it is what it is. it is useful, if you know what questions to ask and what things to look for.
moving over to one of the strangers, she bows her head to them, noting: )
It is important to know your friends, yes? When you are far from home.
( says the woman who was born far away in eresos, on a farm of all things, not destined for anything as great as a banquet, but she - if nothing else - knows her friends, andromeda knows how to gather them. )
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alpha |
rumour spred quickly, and when gorgo heard, she knew it was the answer to her prayers at the temple. she burned incense for apollo at their home altar, then, and for hera and for zeus, too, and she went to meet the stranger, her father accompanying her because the polyanaktides family was nothing if not skilled in trade.
whatever the stranger had brought along, they would have it.
and they would be richer for it.
like so, the next newcomer will be met in the agora by a redheaded woman and an elderly man who prefers to stay quietly in the background, letting his daughter do the talking, isn't that what a singer is for? wordsmithing. she smiles at them, inclines her head and looks around, gesturing softly but in a deceptive manner.
she is not soft. neither does she mean it softly. )
Be greeted. I can tell, you're not from around these parts. Has your journey been pleasant?
( she asks, knowing from the last arrivals, that the journey is nought in comparison, it is the displacement that proposes the issue. they are not where they belong; they know, and she knows. it is evident for all to see.
yet, she doesn't address it further than that. there is some ironic sting to it. )
no subject
But perhaps most strikingly, she wears a strange, mechanical device on her left wrist.
She stares back at Gorgo, but she is making no effort to hide her hostility. She's sizing her up for danger- Is she the one who brought her hear? A monster in disguise? Someone powerful? Will she have to fight her? She flexes her hand, ready to start brawling at a moment's notice, but seemingly unwilling to make the first move. She doesn't look very strong, but she carries herself like someone with a lot of confidence in her physical ability...]
"Journey", my ass. Who the hell are you, and what is this place?
no subject
as well as to secure her own reputation and status as the preferred singer of the city, of the whole island.
currently, though, hostility is radiating off the woman who has surely been touched by some god, with those ears and the tail, so hospitality seems a far-fetched thing to send for and to show and to give her. regardless, gorgo beckons for her father who comes over and carefully hands her an amphora, starkly decorated, that she takes and holds out in offer. )
Welcome to Mytilene. This is Lesbos in the great Empire of Hellas. My name is Gorgo. ( the large flask is extended another inch, almost like an intangible nudge. ) Please receive our gift of gratitude.
( the olive oil, virgin and fine in quality, sloshes around loudly inside. )
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Empire of Hellas? Mytilene? Lesbos? Well, she is lesbian, but- That's probably not what that means. Right? Unless they're messing with her. But surely not. She doesn't know any of these words or names...
And that gift. A weird jar of... What is it?
She's of two minds. If this is an illusion- Which, of course, it must be- She needs to transform, find the one responsible, and beat them down as fast as possible. But if this somehow isn't an illusion, transforming is giving herself away, and she has to avoid that at all costs. A masked superhero can't work if people know who's under the mask, after all.
She hates not knowing. Normally, she can just throw her power around to find the situation out, but here, having arrived in this state...
It's too dangerous. She's certain she can take this lady and the other guy- Her dad? Uncle? Some weird servant? With ease. But without knowing anything, she might end up trapping herself.]
I've never heard of any of those names. Go.... "Gorgo"?
[She's mangling the pronunciation, but she's actually trying to get it right. She's just not very good at it.]
... Is that some kind of drink?
no subject
in her mind, she gives a prayer, so that the valuable foodstuff won't be wasted. the gods can have it. as a libation. )
It is olive oil. For food prepation and for bath. We wish you not to go hungry and to get comfortably clean.
( another nudge of the amphora now, take it, it means. )
I was named after the gorgon, Medusa, whose head Athena wears on her shield. Is that story familiar to you?
no subject
Cooking? Cleaning? Most of the food she's ever eaten was either microwaved or stolen, and as for baths... A city fountain or sneaking into a public bath was good enough. She slowly steps forward again...]
... "Medusa"...? [She furrows her brows. She's a little better at pronouncing that, at least- Like she's got some previous familiarity with the word.]
Wait, yeah. That's the word that snake creep who kept turning people into statues kept saying before I blew them to hell.
... Is that oil supposed to turn things to stone or something?
no subject
she wipes a few stray drops off the edge of the amphora and rubs it into the skin of her fingertips, showing her hand. that, at least, is a friendly gesture. she inclines her head. )
It will smoothen and soften your skin. It will flavour your food. It is a valuable gift from this land.
( her smile gains that recognizable sharpness once more, as if she is a little bit amused. without mockery, only ironic distance. to the girl in front of her. to the situation as it looks to her, a commentary from the gods. )
And since you are a valuable gift to this land, we trade equally.
no subject
Let's cut the shit. What do you actually want? If that oil's that valuable as you're making it sound, no way you're giving it as a 'gift'. You want something in return.
You're calling me a 'gift', but you mean a 'tool', don't you? So try being honest for a bit.
[She's getting frustrated. Angry. She tries to keep her anger bottled up, but she hates, more than anything else, being lied to. Being deceived. Even if it's not a 'lie', per se, she can tell Gorgo isn't being entirely honest. And that's raising her hackles.]
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he repeats the newcomer's name as best he can, then asks, with a serious expression: )
Who rules where you are from?
no subject
That doesn't mean she's going to be co-operative. Authorities demanding registration aren't popular in her sector; she'd be skeptical even under the best of circumstances. As it is, all the official scribe gets from the woman in the bright blue spacer uniform is her name, her rank, and a flash of a card printed in an entirely foreign script. It isn't her fault if it isn't understood.
Then there's this man. She has to give him credit for the effort. Most people have trouble remembering Lieutenant Arilanna Lorenza Kittredge Carrington Tayrey, but he makes a valiant attempt. It softens her approach enough that she doesn't simply ignore his question. He's not responsible for this, no reason to take it out on him.]
Who rules there? My captain.
[Technically correct, not terribly informative.]
no subject
her defiance doesn't provoke him, but he takes it to heart and regards her with a frown, not in displeasure, but he doesn't show his approval either, for he doesn't approve. she is giving him cheek. even gorgo, who shows her own defiance in her own way, would never dare. as he doesn't understand where she is from, this lieutenant, she obviously doesn't understand what his position entails either.
he allows this. accepts it. honey and bee. )
You let a hired man rule over you?
( that is what he knows of captains. they are skilled workers, but they are nonetheless workers and they work for you as long as you are underway. after that, your bond is nought and he rules no more than he gets paid. )
no subject
She's here against her will. No contract. She owes nothing to any of them, not even peace. So she hasn't bothered.
Faint surprise registers on her face at his next question, because it's close enough to one class of critical remarks those who dislike the Tradelines might make, to needle her. As if they were nothing more than amoral mercenaries totally beholden to those they fought for. Except that Tayrey has told this man nothing about the Tradelines, so it can't be that.]
I follow the orders of my captain, as is my duty. [Stiff pride in that correction.] And he negotiates contract on equal terms with those who require our services.
no subject
she is bringing something to this place that they need. he doesn't know what yet, but he believes in the gods, she is here for good reason.
he must utilize this. )
Bonds matter to you.
( it is an observation, neutral. )
You are registered in our administration now, your name lives amongst ours. What bond does that create between you and us?
no subject
[Again, there's no hostility in her amendment, but it's firm. She wants to be clear about who she is and what she stands for, even while she keeps all the specifics to herself. Values stand independent of culture.]
Giving you my name creates no contract. Contract is created with consent, and had I been invited here, and accepted the invitation as a representative of my people, that would have been a link between us. A matter of courtesy and obligation. But I was brought here against my will. I owe you nothing. I owe it to my own people to escape and return to my duty.
[Tayrey's words are careful and calm. Of course she's heard their explanation: that it's the work of their gods. That makes absolutely no difference to atheist Tayrey. Gods can come to the table and negotiate too, not violate people's rights.]
no subject
He fulfills his civic duty with good spirits, thinking it would be distasteful to be discourteous and overcomplicate the lives of the public servants of
Mytilene. He has nothing to hide, waiting in line until he answers with polite confidence that he is name is Kirschtaria Wodime, a UK-born and raised citizen.
Is there a reason he should be cross by being revived again without demanding payment this time? He had many conflicted emotions when he appeared days ago, staring at the blue of the sea and tasting the salt in his mouth. Just a few seconds earlier, the young mage had been listening to his Servant's unfinished words (oh my, Caenis will be angry his Master was so rude to pass away midsentence) as he looked at the floating pillars and the twinkling stars above. Although Zeus' and his goal could not align, he had protected Olympus as he had vowed in his sworn friend's place. It would peacefully dissolve like a dream rather than suffer the humiliation and conquest from the Fairy Queen of the distant Britain Lostbelt or the newborn Foreign Planet's God's hunger. Disappointed he failed, yet hopeful that humanity would still survive this trial, he had burned the left of his life to pass his torch to someone else...
But, in the end, his true conclusion remains pending. It isn't the first time or second that he gets a new chance. Nonetheless, unlike those previous opportunities, he starts over with considerably healthier. At the very least, he has recovered his lost body mass, and his hands look smooth rather than aged.
He cants his head in acknowledgment at the best effort to pronounce his name. Because even if there is a mistake, human nature thrives despite them. ]
Good question. [ Kirschtaria says, smiling mildly, while he deliberates if it is wise to reveal this information. If it is the past, something could change by introducing concepts from the far future. He has also been a member of an organization that watches over these peculiarities endanger the presence.
One person knowing will not make an impact, he concludes. ] We call our government a "parliamentary constitutional monarchy." The crown is passed through a hereditary system, but the royal's role is more symbolic, ceremonial, and diplomatic than exercising true power. The Parliament, divided into the House of Lords and House of Commons, the Prime Minister and his Cabinet are the ones that officially govern in Her Majesty's name.
[ He finishes, waiting for the inevitable follow-up interrogation. Extra-officially, there are corporations and shared international interests, and behind those, a world of mages and other creatures pulling the strings from the shadows of the modern world to secure their secrets. ]
no subject
he looks at this man, who has donned local clothing and thus, could be mistaken for one of them, if not for the jewellery and the accessories, so removed from anything they are familiar with on this island. it takes all his composure, not to ask about them, not to indicate he has noted their existence with a sense of want. the way you want gold, when gold is not to be found in your own soil. the way you import wine and olive oil, if olives and grapes will not grow where you are.
the rarity of a thing doubles its value, not only in monetary terms. it is human nature. to want. sappho was right about that, if nothing else.
but this man presents himself as immediately useful and myrsilus listens with quiet fascination. a king, but others rule for him. he is a symbol of power, but only a symbol?
strange.
dangerous. )
Why would you bother putting a man on the throne, if he does not rule directly? I have advisors and men of importance to debate with, naturally, but the decisions when final are mine. Why else would I be this city's leader?
( if there is some skepticism in his voice now, he doesn't stress it. he doesn't let it overtake. but there is a feeling of, these are our ways, do not think to bring yours into play. )
no subject
Kirschtaria's the most ambitious among men and one of the most selfless. All he wanted was never power for himself but to elevate the rest of humanity so they could create a better world without him. His idealistic viewpoint does not mean he is blind to power struggles. Uninterested? Absolutely, but he is a mage from an old aristocratic family. Partaking in politics behind the scenes was less of a pastime and more a requisite of survival in the Clock Tower. Until he could leave that behind to travel to Antarctica and join Chaldea in his twenties, he had to juggle the three factions that courted his support as the "shining crown jewel" in the Association.
He discerns the subtle underlying wariness of the inquiry, hanging like an unstated warning. Understandable, too. This man rules, and he hears of a powerless, symbolic monarch existing elsewhere. His smile remains unfaltering as it is the courtesy of his voice. ]
The delicate balance of power between people is complicated, forged across generations, centuries before I was born. I would require hours to answer satisfactorily with the context that led to this.
[ He excuses himself, eyes darting too at those present, scribes and those waiting behind him. He wondered if Theseus was real in this version of Ancient Greece or if democracy as a concept would emerge only after Cleisthenes' reforms in the next century. Both are true to Wodime, but what about them? Hm. He'd rather avoid speaking of the local variables for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the future. ]
But if you are wondering why the society I hail from still maintains the royal family? I believe it is a combination of cultural prestige, a brand to make the country stand out, and profit. People from other places visit our cities and lands, partly because they are curious or fascinated with the concept of royalty from ages past. This means our economy greatly benefits from their existence.
[ The media coverage is also a bonus. But elaborating that would lead to unnecessary confusion. The royal family is, in other words, a product they sell as much as an essential pillar of national identity with plenty of cultural value.
He does not and will not debate why he should give up his power. He thinks he was clear in the implication that hadn't been willing during the shift. ]
gamma |
or, strictly speaking, her husband has, but she lives in his house and is there more frequently than him anyway.
it is this house, the house of meleager, which she sends word to the newcomers that they are welcome to visit. she arranges for a gathering in the courtyard, has her servant play the lyre for entertainment, because one cannot have the poets do everything, and sets out fruit, wine mixed with water, bread and olive oil to dip it in. it would be a symposium of sorts, if she were a man.
she is not, so it is what it is. it is useful, if you know what questions to ask and what things to look for.
moving over to one of the strangers, she bows her head to them, noting: )
It is important to know your friends, yes? When you are far from home.
( says the woman who was born far away in eresos, on a farm of all things, not destined for anything as great as a banquet, but she - if nothing else - knows her friends, andromeda knows how to gather them. )