thisavrou_log | Meeting the buddy

Who: Rinzler and Fenris
When: After Fenris' arrival
Where: Outside the mess hall
What: The buddy system claims more victims
Warnings: Rinzler and Fenris are probably their own warnings

[ Logically, having someone familiar with the vessel who can explain it to him is a good thing. It's helpful and useful and Fenris should be happy that it's been arranged for him. He certainly wouldn't have taken the time or effort to arrange it himself.

But he isn't pleased about it. He finds the fact that someone else feels that he needs a buddy to be offensive and belittling. He's a grown man, not a child in need of a babysitter. Never mind that he's completely at a loss by everything that the vessel represents.

Yet here he is, loitering outside the mess hall—it's one of the few places he can find easily on the ship—waiting for this Rinzler person to arrive. He's still wearing his armor and his gauntlets; though he isn't consciously looking for a fight, he's wary enough of this place to be prepared for one. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, Fenris doesn't look particularly friendly. ]

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[That makes two armored piles of frustration in this particular hallway. Communication isn't Rinzler's function, and welcome rates closer to the opposite. And yet somehow, thanks to one Zam_Wesell, he was supposed to be beta-sitting some new import? Directing his criticisms to the user had been minorly satisfying, but entirely ineffective at clearing his tasklist of the job.

So here Rinzler is. Outside the mess hall. Uniforms being for those who acknowledge loyalty to a group, Rinzler's wearing his own armor as well: flexible black material decorated only with the glow of his red-orange markings. Disks stay in his back, batons at each side, steps silent by habit more than intent as he draws near. Still, Fenris will hear something: a low, whirring rumble, like a damaged machine catching with each spin.

The sound skips audibly as the enforcer stops a few paces away, mask fixed on Fenris. Recognition? Maybe. But there's an element of curiosity to the slight tilt of the enforcer's mask, and if Fenris tracks the direction of the (presumed) stare, he'll find the focus to be a little more specific. Rinzler's staring at those white-lit lines.

Since when do users have circuitry?]

[ It isn't a sound that Fenris recognizes. Like this place, with its unfathomable sights and sounds and smells, this is a foreign noise he cannot place. Machines are the purview of dwarves in Thedas, and compared to this place, they are rudimentary at best.

His eyes track to the side slowly, not expecting to find it leading to a living being. But it does. There's a man moving toward him, dressed in strange armor with a helmet obscuring his face. In spite of the novelty of what he's wearing, it's the fiery glow that catches and holds Fenris' attention.

The scowl slips, becoming an expression of puzzled curiosity. Due to his markings, he's been kept away from the red lyrium. But the markings remind him of his own and their color is awfully close to red. Was this talk of buddies a ruse to get him here alone?

There's only one way to find out. He straightens, pushing himself off the wall. ]

Are you Rinzler?

[The helmet dips in a nod. There are no words to accompany the gesture, no sound at all except the constant rumbling. Still, Rinzler's inspection lingers a moment longer. Scan-sense returns the typical incoherent read of an organic, and if externals differ by a few degrees from what he's used to, all data is still returning user. No disk. No gridsuit. But circuit markings.

Strange. Not what he's here for, but definitely strange. Rinzler reaches down to his wrist, tapping at the MID to bring up a holographic text display, angled outward towards the user.]

Fenris.

[Not a question.]

[ This is not the first time he's met a man who does not speak. The Saarebas of the Qunari have their lips sewn shut. Slaves in Tevinter were known to lose their tongues if they could not learn to hold them. He has learned how to communicate with both. He can employ those skills here.

There are not portable signs in Thedas the way there are here, however. The word appears as if from nothing from the device on Rinzler's hand and Fenris looks at it. His name. ]

Yes. I am Fenris. [ He's hardly a master conversationalist, but he knows he must make more of an effort now to compensate for his companion's difficulty. ] I was told that I was to meet you here to learn of this vessel and my place on it. Is that true?

[Shoulders twitch, almost a shrug, but Rinzler nods again in answer. Current cooperation notwithstanding, he's yet to acknowledge the local hierarchy as having any authority over him, and if the user wanted to bypass tutorial, he doubts anyone would bother trying to enforce it. Still, that was what the both of them were here for. Supposedly.]

Current data?

[Easier to know what information it required if he had some idea where the user was starting from.]

[ Fenris studies the words for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Ordinary people don't often speak of data in Thedas. Magisters, however, occasionally do, when they're running their unsavory experiments. ]

I know little of this place. Ships we have aplenty in my world, but this... [ He trails off, shaking his head. ] None can sail among the stars. Even the most powerful magisters do not possess this ability.

[ Perhaps it's not the most pertinent question he could ask, yet he can't help himself. ]

Do you know how this is possible?

[Where Rinzler's from, there are no stars. Only the lights of the system... and long ago, the Portal, shining on the horizon. But the gateway to the user world hasn't been open in Rinzler's memory. At least not any memory he's permitted.

The constant rumbling skips quietly as the enforcer redirects to the topic at hand. User systems are more straightforward in their transport... if completely bewildering in most regards.]

High-energy flightcraft. Capable of running outside of system boundaries.

[The helmet angles a little to the side. The Moira might be locked down, but Rinzler's been running the transporters past planetary security for a while now. And they are capable of breaking atmosphere.]

Could show you.

[ That takes a moment to parse. Rinzler's word choices are difficult to decipher; Fenris doesn't know whether it's the fault of his limited ability to read or because they come from different places that use different terminology.

Flight is a word he recognizes. Some of the rest don't make sense in context for him, but he ignores what he doesn't understand when he reads the offer to show him. Surely, he thinks, that will help clear up the confusion. ]

Please. [ He can be polite when he wishes to be, and thus far, Rinzler has done nothing to provoke his ire. The man is strange, but he knows that he is too. And the offer to help dispose of Fenris' ignorance is apprecisted. ] I would appreciate that. Thank you.

[If the lingering quirk to Rinzler's mask is any sign, that's considerably more politeness than he's used to. Still, the enforcer doesn't stall for long, helmet dipping in a nod as the MID display closes itself. No need for words—at least not now.

Rinzler turns, starting off down the hallway toward the docking bay. He'll glance back if Fenris doesn't follow, but otherwise doesn't hesitate, steps fluid and quick despite the indrawn hunch that seems to cling to the enforcer's posture. From behind, Fenris will have a clear view of the melded disk docked between the program's shoulderblades, inner ring lit the same red-orange as his circuit markings.

While he'll respond to any questions asked, the only output from Rinzler until they get there is the same quiet rumbling. The door he finally reaches to key open is larger than most of the architecture here, and leads out to the expanse of the cargo bay. Stacked crates cover part of the floorspace, hauling equipment and tools along some walls. Further out are a massive set of doors... and a double row of ships, docked and inactive.]

Meeting the buddy

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