RP First Recess

Re: Recess

Miki continued to smile, though she folded her arms in the small of her back to prevent herself from flexing her hands. It was a nervous tic of hers, one of few that remained to her after years of serving as an adjuctant. Frustrated hands found eager purchase on offending windpipes. The prim and pristine posture that she currently adopted spoke of long and leal service, instead.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she demurred. "Our Empire's history has been mostly lost to time, with the plagues and the eventual conversion of the populace to synthetic existence, and so I suppose I can see where you may be correct."

"But for my own part, I enjoy my life, and what I do, and I have several hobbies I find fulfilling."

After a moment's pause, she continued, addressing Ahrim as well. "I'm also very curious about your preference in recreation, Envoy."

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"Yuumi! Look'at you!" laughed Pyros, still firmly seated in his chair, sipping from a broken bottle of liquor, his coat discarded. This was one of the few times people beyond the Premier's personal staff got to see the majority of the Nepleslian's scars. The Sky Marshall had something against shirts, a personal distaste that he refused to reveal, but it made it quite easy to show off war-scars and pale-skinned cybernetic attachments. One thing was apparent, this man had felt his share of pain, fraying, and dismemberment.

Yet it was hard to pay attention to all that beyond the happy smile beaming off his mildly wrinkled face.

"You haven't come to kill me, have you? Ha ha ha! Hold on, let me stand up first." the man continued to laugh, pushing himself out of his chair. He held up his hands as if he were begging for his life in a comical way. "Come in, come in! We've got plenty of space, since they sized all this furniture for Flint's fat ass."

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Ahrim's gaze went from Dico to the new arrival, giving her a slight nod. "Adravni, Tanaka-sera. As I was just saying to the young man here. Each race has their unique ways of recreation. But," his eyes went back to the painting.

"He touched on another subject. One that I once found truly interesting many years ago. Look at this work, what do you see? Victory? Triumph? Conquest? Nobility? Peer beyond the obvious, to what lies beneath." Nodding toward the mosaic Ahrim continued.

"I find that the artist subtly colored her work with emotion. The green of the hair, it is a shade lighter than true green. It is tinged with yellow. The eyes, the color of blood. Skin, pale white. The colors of the fire, of how the yellows and orange intermingle. Right down to the purple hue of the sky behind this woman. It tells me how the artist felt while 'crafting' this piece with her mind. Of how she viewed life, or perhaps the life of this individual and the vessels within the next scene."

"White pinpoints of stars, the shades of gray of the hulls. Red for emblems and the blackness of space." It was clear his idea of recreation was of course, painting.

The Iromakuanhe looked to Miki, and to Dico. "I could perhaps tell both of you how the artist viewed this woman, and the scene in space. But I think that is something for you both to see for yourselves." he nodded to this before looking directly to Dico.

"The mysteries of life, its meanings are not a problem to be solved to be viewed objectively; but are a reality to be experienced. Just as your experiences have shaped you colored your impressions, so do the experiences of others shape them. So please, do not judge the customs and life experiences of another race so lightly. They change from place to place, time to time, one but has to see past the surface and look deeper."

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Iris disliked talking shop during a recess. If she had something to say, the Minister would say it in front of the group with no qualms. If she didn't have anything to say, the older member of the Conference would keep her mouth shut like she had been doing. However, she did know when advice was needed before further proceedings. So when the recess was called, the Abwehran Minister retreated to the farthest part of the bar with her Aide and one extra person.

The person was clad entirely in a black uniform with no insignia or rank to identify her. Since Minister Schneider spoke about the possibility of troop aid as well as aid in food, the old Abwehran had decided for a military opinion. Luckily, one had been provided for the envoy for such occassions. So the trio of Abwehrans spoke in hushed tones in their native tongue. The one in the black uniform seemed terse for a moment, but then smiled in a rather disturbing manner before standing up and walking out of the bar.

This left Iris with her Aide and a bottle of rather weak alcohol for the both of them.

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When approached by Miki, Dico was left to furrow his brow slightly at the intrusion, it was tasteless really, how the Yamataian delegation felt the need to butt her nose into a conversation. Though, Dico knew, that polite behavior was required... polite enough to address the woman, but not polite enough to entertain her stances. "A history allowed to be lost may not have been a history which was desirable to remember. Often, people tend to work to get rid of bad memories, and troubled pasts, while attempting to make monuments of moments of great value, or to produce empathized importance" With those words, Dico tilted his head in the direction of the mosaic; "Like this rendition."

Ever the sort for communication, Dico listened when Ahrim began to speak, and listened closely. Perhaps he would learn something, or at least, perhaps he would get a better understanding of the Iroma. As Ahrim spoke, Dico noted each feature which he pointed out, and inwardly, it left Dico asking a question in his mind, but that was a question that could wait until Ahrim was finished speaking. When Ahrim did finish, it left Dico to speak his own thoughts and feelings; "I make my judgement with my heart, I make it based on what I can feel at a given time. Perhaps someday, these people will earn a sum of sweeter emotions, but for now, my opinion is what it is as we live in this moment. As for what I can feel from this piece. I don't see victory, triumph, or any of those things, what I see is a frantic search for an identity and purpose, the need to ensure the next day will come and it would be greeted by the living." Dico spoke, sounding quite grim, but that was the nature of his people as of late. "Tell me, what do you see in this rendition? It leaves me curious." he asked Ahrim, as he tried to get a better glimpse into the thoughts of the man.

------

Elsewhere in the lounge, Aegis continued to search for her 'target', as she went to the bar to obtain a beverage, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. 'There they are.' She thought, as she saw one of them walking away. It was still two voices, against her one, but she felt confident enough to open up dialog as she moved along the bar with the rusty-amber colored beverage she ordered in hand.

When she approached the pair, she thought to the things she learned in preparation for the assignment, as well as during her time as a senator. "Hallo, äh, etwas dagegen, wenn ich stören?" she spoke to the two Abwehrans, bowing her head slightly as a sign of respectful modesty. "Ich hoffte auf eine Gelegenheit, zu Ihnen zu sprechen, und würde mir wünschen, dass Sie nicht beleidigt, wenn wir in einer neutralen Sprache sprachen, wie beispielsweise 'Trade'?" she spoke in Abwehran, but with a distinctive Lorath accent, which took off many of the harsh tones of the Abwehran dialect, but muddled it with richer tones which dragged a bit, accent aside, she did make quite the effort.

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Wolfgang glanced up first as the Lorath woman began to speak in their native tongue. The Abwehran male seemed a bit surprised by the question. Iris merely glanced up and smiled. "Natürlich, meine Dame. Bitte nehmen Sie Platz und lassen Sie uns reden." replied and motioned for Aegis to sit across from her.

"I must say though, your mastery of the Abwehran tongue seems quite good," the Minister congratulated. "Not as strong as it should sound, but I think it was the accent that lessened its power."

Taking a sip from her glass, the middle-aged Abwehran set it down before resting her chin upon the back of her hand. "Now, please. What is it you wish to discuss?" she asked with her accent-less Trade.

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"Danke." Spoke Aegis, as she took the indicated seat, before she took a short sip from the glass which she carried. She let the alcohol tickle her tongue and throat as the Abwehran Minister spoke. "Thank you, I practiced for the occasion. I must say, it was an easier language to pick up than Yamataian." Aegis admitted, as the topic soon went to just what she wanted when she approached them, quite quick they were to cut to business... she liked that.

"While I do like the notion of stepping over to share a drink, indeed, this moment has more of a purpose than merely partaking in alcohol and conversation." Aegis spoke, cutting to the chase much like the Abwehran Minister; "My people, we dislike the whole notion of obscure intentions. What I'm here for, is to ask on behalf of the High Priest, what your people's intentions are in regard to the NMX, the Yamataians, and relations with smaller organizations and races, such as the Astral Commonwealth, and the Lorath Matriarchy. From what we understand, relations have been amicable between your people and your neighbors, and the High Priest wishes to forge a similar relationship, and perhaps a closer one if possible. What we desire, is to be friendly with our neighbors, in which we have confidence that they would respect our own wishes and territories as we would theirs. Your people, seem like excellent neighbors to have as friends." After speaking, the Fyunnen woman drank down the rest of her beverage in one quick shot. "Times are tough, and what we seek is some semblance of stability, and good relationships enhance that stability." she explained, as she gave a soft smile. "Not to mention, good neighbors make excellent drinking company."

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The comments from the Commonwealth’s delegate made Miki’s smile much more genuine, softening it; after receiving that one little affirmation, she felt that she could now relax. It reminded her that the Lorath delegate was scrabbling for purchase in this conference. Not to disregard their input, of course, but…

Miki ignored him.

Moving closer to the Iroma delegate, she looked up at the image again, considering it.

“You are right, and I’m glad you can see something like that. This isn’t the only image in this station, but it’s one of the largest and most detailed in this sector. Many biologicals can not form images like this in their head with much detail – they use too much emotion, their memories are too prejudiced. And then again, many synthetics simply find themselves reproducing their impressions from their secondary memories, which are impartial.

“So the real art is in mixing the two, and producing works like this. Perhaps, you would like to try it, Ambassador? I am sure we could arrange something, and if you can share impressions and scenes from your home world, there are still many walls unadorned, here.”

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Pyros said:

"You haven't come to kill me, have you? Ha ha ha! Hold on, let me stand up first." the man continued to laugh, pushing himself out of his chair. He held up his hands as if he were begging for his life in a comical way. "Come in, come in! We've got plenty of space, since they sized all this furniture for Flint's fat ass."

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Yuumi wondered if Pyros' aversion to shirts was to make women flustered at the sight of his masculine, scarred, deformed chest. It certainly had an effect on her — one alcohol would drown out rather nicely.

"Pyros, you haven't been drinking without me, have you? Now I have to catch up." She went for one of the couches across from where he was wobbling. The one she took indeed looked built for Flint; the top of its seat cushions were at eye level. She floated up to it to take a seat, but instead laid out on her stomach, kicking one leg up in the air. It was unprofessional, of course. But this was Pyros, not a stuffy admiral or a prim minister. She was able to look at Pyros in the eyes from her position, which was a plus.

It was nice to relax her body, at least. If not her head. Of anyone at the conference, Pyros was the one she held in the highest esteem. She was watching him more than anyone else. Even sauced and silly, Pyros was never to be underestimated or taken too lightly.

That was his trap. It was like hers, and it was just as effective.

Maybe that's why she liked him.

"Well? You don't expect me to pour one for myself, do you?" She smirked with her eyes and her lips; Pyros could only see her eyes, with the lower half of her face hidden behind folded arms.

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"And would what the colors mean truly change your views of the mosaic?" Ahrim asked to simply ask the question, already knowing the answer would have more or less been an emphatic 'No'. Or a very hopeful, 'Maybe'.

"A troubled past is just that young man. 'A past'. We may look upon our histories and see faults, and in hindsight may have wished to change the circumstances that wrought such events. But they can no more be changed than the regrets we feel for them at realizing we are powerless to do so. Gone is the past, glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Never to be had again. A regrettable thing, one that many find themselves caught up within."

His drink had mostly melted by now, forgotten in his hand which had become slick with salted condensation.

"Time does not wait. It simply moves onward, and we have no choice but to dance to the beat of its drum. How we spend this time, walking, or 'dancing' is of our choosing. We may effect the present, or future. For the better, or for the worse." He then smiled, only a little ghost of a smile. But it was one none the less.

"You had both my question, and my answer to your request regarding my view of this artwork. Even before asking." Of course what he had said was if Dico had seen and understood what the artist had felt while rendering her work. He had wanted the New Tur'listan to see past history, and obvious surface intent of the work. And ask himself what did Miss Amelia Ironfales embed within it.

Shaking his head, Ahrim then seemed more thoughtful and calm.

"The scenes that I paint, Tanaka-sera, are scenes filled with emotion both overt as well as subtle. And while I have an eidetic memory, I often find it is the imperfections within the artwork itself coupled with the emotional pique of the moment that bring them to life. As if the artist paint a part of themselves within their pieces in every stroke of the brush. For me to paint, I require inspiration that not only stirs the soul but what is truly worth painting. What you ask for would not hold the same esteem and awe for your people as it does with my own."

The slight downturn of his lips showed a measure of regret as he said those words.

"And I have seen and experienced too little of your people and their world to add my own impressions of it to these walls."

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When Ahrim spoke his reply, Dico's mind grasped onto the words, and as if holding an object of intricate design, he turned the words over in his mind, and studied them, gathering the man's meaning. Dico weighed what he could say in response, mulling over the meaning of words, before he would even reply to such a man. There was a distinctive respect to be had for such a philosophical mind, and that respect was the same kind of respect which would be given to a loaded weapon, or a dangerous beast.

"Perhaps a change of color would have altered my opinion, but there is more to it than color. While it is accounting for a tale, it is in the presentation of the story depicted. Why this moment? Why portray the subjects in such a way? Those things are what also mingle with color to portray a meaning." Dico spoke, before he moved further along into Ahrim's words.

"What the past does for us is to shape us. Like the lessons of childhood for everyone. What makes up the past for a people, serves to guide them for many years to come, and it should, prepare them for the future. What is truly a test of a people's ability to move in time with the dance of life and death is their ability to adapt their steps, to move in time, to keep from being lost by their clinging too firmly to history which would have little impact upon a given moment. However, to remember that history, is still important, it is the challenge not to be held back by it." Came Dico's words, as he looked to Ahrim, and gave a soft bow of his head.

"While I can not speak for the Yamataians." Dico started, "I can say that what my people hope for, is the opportunity to share in this time, and a portion of time to come, so we can exchange insights, and better understand each other, and what it is to live our lives, in this time. Truly, to live a time together, and to know it together, that is the meaning of friendship, is it not? What I feel our people wish, is to be able to share in these times enough, so in the future, both of our people can look back upon the creations of this era, and we can both feel and know, what was spoken from the heart and soul in the process of creation."

Honesty was part of every word from Dico, it existed in his heart at that moment, he truly hoped that the man would understand that what the Matriarchy and him wanted. There was a soft smile from Dico, as a cybernetic device within his body completed a process. He reached to a device on the back of his gloved hand, and pulled a small square-shaped card from it, and presented it to Ahrim.

"Perhaps, you can understand more about us from our own art. To help you, please take this, a record of art held in the highest regard by our people, as well as the art of the Helashio who live along with us." With that, he held out the data card, in hopes of it being a step in the right direction. If the man was as much of a judge of the heart as Dico thought, he hoped that what he would see, would be able to determine the future of their relations, based upon the heart and soul of their peoples.

Re: Recess

Flint stepped into the room behind Yuumi, allowing the door to slide to a close as he entered. The giant Grand Admiral remained over by the door, standing tall with one hand clasped over the opposite wrist in front of his torso. Flint kept silent for the moment, content to simply watching the former Yamataian Empress address his Premier so casually.

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The Sky Marshall chuckled lightly as Yuumi strolled on in such a casual manner. The change was refreshing from the prim and proper woman he had met earlier in the day. He knew that he had made her feel sufficiently welcome, seeing as she saw fit to plop right down on one of his couches and waggle her feet about. She looked just like a girl who had just come home from school, despite being one of the most powerful people in the known universe. It was cute, yet mildly alluring, coming from a woman like Yuumi.

"Well? You don't expect me to pour one for myself, do you?" She smirked with her eyes and her lips; Pyros could only see her eyes, with the lower half of her face hidden behind folded arms.

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"I guess a gentlemen's gotta' pay his respect to the fine ladies." laughed Pyros, turning to grab the unopened bottle he had been juggling earlier. He popped the top off the neck, and went to retrieve a glass, to which he scooped ice from the ice bucket. Despite the stumble in his step, he was rather fluid with his hands, making a rather perfect pour as he filled the cup.

He then sauntered back over to Yuumi, a spry little dance in his step before he bent down to give her the glass. At such proximity, she could see that his skin was rough, yet pulled and tanned tautly over chiseled muscles. The Premier, though old by ancient standards, was still mighty, though the must surprising aspect might've been his grace.

Perhaps the mild show was intentional, to show Yuumi that even drunk, he was in control. Perhaps this was all subtle intimidation, meant to spark caution in the Neko's mind, to inflame a mild paranoia. Perhaps, Pyros' gaze upon her was a carefully hidden observation, watching his enemy. Perhaps, just perhaps, Pyros was the spider of politics, tricking his opponents in his web of false-security and safety, before sinking his teeth in.

Or perhaps he was just a dirty, old warrior who knew his way around the elixir, and was simply stealing looks at Yuumi's ass.

"I'm surprised you just walked on in!" mentioned Pyros, as he handed her the drink, "I half expected you to throw a fit about that stick up your ass bit." He took a sip of his own drink, hiding his mouth behind the glass, "Unless I'm just out of touch and that's some kind of Yamataian invitation."

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"Some girls might take it as such, but I'm not into sticks," Yuumi replied as she turned to rob Pyros of his view and prop herself up on one elbow.

She brought the glass to her nose, the brown liquid's stiff alcohol content wafting up into her nostrils and zinging straight to her head. She sniffed deeper, taking in all of the tones of the whiskey.

Aged ... 23 years. In rare Nepleslian walnut, too. Adds a different profile to it. Malted barley from Delsaurian biospheres, feeding off that naturally hot sun. You can almost taste the sand. Must have a rough finish.

Yuumi brought the glass to her lips and took a slow, savory sip. Just enough to bask her tongue in it. There was the expected fire along her tastebuds, but they were used to the heat, so she took a deeper sip, eyes closed and head tilted back enough to let the stuff slide down her throat, her tongue forming a creek bed for the liquid to follow.

She was wrong. The finish was smooth; it left a hearty, penetrating burn down to her belly, where it finally stopped to warm her midsection. The taste was just sweet enough, and it called out the malt of the stuff.

Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips forming an enormously pleased smile as she set her glass down on the couch cushion, still holding it with one hand.

If Pyros wanted to do one over on her, giving her a cask of that whiskey would do the trick. She told him that with her expression, but Pyros might just have seen a young-looking Neko being swindled by a dirty old man's special elixir.

"Mmmm," she said through her smiling lips that were the same dull, blood red as her pants suit, but looked much fuller after the alcohol. "You know, a girl could get very drunk off this stuff, Pyros. I told Flint I wouldn't let you get me too drunk, but for this, I might have to go back on my word."

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Pyros chuckled, his eyes closing with the width of his smile. Now it was feeling more like an afternoon instead of business. The older man threw the bottle up in the air, only to catch it at the base. With the extra reach, he leaned forward and refilled Yuumi's glass back up to full. The Premier tilted one way, and then the other, half-turning to plop himself down on the arm-rest of the couch. His legs twisted around another, propping him up, and providing him a modicum of comfort.

"Have as much as you want!" said Pyros jovially, setting the bottle down on a coffee table in front of the couch, before wiggling his glass at her. "This game of office always leaves my throat dry. I can't imagine what it does to yours."

He tipped the glass back, not completely savoring, but not letting it jump over his tongue either. That burn kept him awake, and it helped him focus. The man plucked his cigar from his mouth, and broke off the end into an ash-tray.

"That bottle is from Vinross-Yu. The Delsaurian Senator. He's always sending little alcoholic gifts. The bastard's a spider when it comes to politics, but I can't help but appreciate his thoroughness. Delsaurian Whiskey is one of my favorites." explained Pyros, as he emptied the rest of his glass in his mouth, only to bend down to refill it. "I've got too many at this point."

He looked over his shoulder at her, smiling mildly.

"I'll letcha take a bottle home iff'n y'can finish this'un by yourself." offered the Premier, stepping up to get his own bottle. "Might want to pace yourself, though. I'd hate to drink your prize before you even got done with that one."

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Yuumi took another sip of the whiskey and smirked with her glass just below her lips.

"I'll be careful," she said. "But you have to be the same, geezer. No passing out on me."

She swirled the contents of her cup and didn't look at him. "It's good to get away from it. The fronting. Putting up lies to deflect truths."

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"You're tellin' me!" chuckled Pyros as he looked down at the woman, rubbing his fore-head with his thumb's knuckle. "I look for every break I can from this political malarkey. When I signed up, I thought it was just me saying a bunch of things to make people feel better, and just repeating whatever the senate said."

He shooked the contents of his glass around, before pointing off towards one of the volumetric windows simulating an 'outside'.

"Turns out, it's all that, and more. The very least, I get a lot of people trying to appeal to my good sides. Free meals, free booze, the occasional NFT tickets. Hell. I got to see Flint's brother over there kick some ass because some tree-hugging senator wanted me to weigh in some bill to plant trees!" The Sky Marshall leaned back a bit, sighing rather comfortably, "Usually I just take their offers and decide my own ways, but lucky for him, I was weighing in favor of some trees."

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Though she thought that the answer would be obvious, Miki provided, “The station’s terminals can probably read those files, if you would like to view them immediately, Envoy.”

It piqued her pride that the Lorath Envoy was taking so many great pains to snub her Empire, slandering the artwork on the station while in the other hand offering his own artwork as a better alternative, but Miki took another silent, deep breath and turned away from the mosaic again, however well portrayed it was.

“I do not ask you to draw something from Yamataian past or history, Envoy, I only wished to introduce you to this medium of expression, and allow you the opportunity to paint using it. I would like to see what you would paint if you could, in a little less than ten minutes, complete artwork of whatever shade you wish with whatever impression you wish. I think in your case, curiosity – specifically, my curiosity – would place your work in a favorable light, no matter whether it is displayed in this station publically or not.

"Besides, it may surprise you to hear certain individuals talking of us, but we nekovalkyrja are not a uniform people, so there is no way to tell who would appreciate your art, or who wouldn’t.”

So saying, Miki produced a small handkerchief from a pocket inside her suit jacket, and held out a hand for the Commonwealth Envoy’s drink.

“You’re dripping,” she said, amicably.

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Ahrim looked down at the aforementioned data-card with what seemed to be polite interest. He reached for it with the free hand; unknowingly allowing his hand to brush against that of Dico's palm. However, Ahrim may not have known of the New Tur'listan's racial affinity for touch-derived psionics. And if he had it wouldn't have changed the fact that between his thoughts and that of any intruder was the mental equivalent of a nigh-impregnable wall of sheer willpower. The data-card ended up underneath his Flak Cloak even as he nodded to Dico.

Although he had been genuinely surprised by the fact that indeed, he was dripping. Having forgotten about the beverage in his hand it gravitated toward the waiting handkerchief.

"I try to pass no judgements upon people I have only just met." Nodding again, Ahrim allowed her to take the drink from his hand.

"If that is what you wish, and I can see you may not be so easily deterred, I will agree to your request. However, I will require brushes and paints. And a smock."

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Pleasantly contented by the Ahrim’s assent, Miki smiled. “None of that will be necessary.”

“Normally, nekovalkyrja can do this simply through telepathy, creating and sharing. In your case, the hardware is very simple to utilize and I can show you how it works. I think we have a digital scanner on this station that can perform a neural mapping. After that, all your thoughts can be translated into digital and you can create whatever you like in under ten minutes using only your memory and imagination. It’s not invasive, it doesn’t hurt, and it can be very beautiful. It’s really something.”

Miki offered the Envoy his glass again and refolded her handkerchief deftly one-handed, swiftly tucking it away in her blazer pocket. Then she glanced up to the great, concave wall where the painting was displayed, dark eyes sparkling with distinguishable pride, and asked, “Actually, Envoy, would you like a demonstration? All of the walls are capable of holography, just like this one.”