milliways_bar | (no subject)

Looked like Kate was getting a break for Halloween as well. She was able to wear a simple outfit of a light sweater and a long skirt with boots. She was sitting at a table with some hot spiced cider, but she glanced up at the dress.

"Halloween again, I guess?"

"Apparently," says Sariel from behind that mask. "Hello, Kate."

Tiny bells jingle as Sariel makes her way closer to that table. She won't take a seat straight away, if there is an open chair - maybe Kate doesn't want company?

"Huh, time flies," Kate nudged a chair towards her to offer a seat.

"It's been... God I'm not even sure where to start."

Oh. Apparently Kate does. That chair is accepted, and Sariel's small smile might not be terribly visible behind her mask, but her nod's plain enough.

She's seated for one second, two, maybe a little more before she speaks. When she does, it's soft. "I spoke to Will," she says. It's cautious.

"So you've heard," Kate remarked, and sighed. "I know a lot of it... I wasn't here. I wasn't here for him or really anybody like I should have been."

Sariel frowns, though not specifically at Kate. Her voice is a little tentative when she speaks.

"It wasn't your fault, though. If you weren't here." She's referencing the vagueries of the door, and the half glance in that direction says as much.

Sariel's costume makes Lorna feel much better about her own. The obscenely short skirt and thigh high boots seem much less noticeable next to Sariel's flamboyant costume.

Though Sariel, at least, doesn't have a bow, nor the urge to say things like 'moon powers: activate!'

Lorna waves from the bar, a small metal tray of brownies floating over, with a quickly scribbled note. It says, "You've been tricked, so here's a treat".

Thankfully, no, Sariel doesn't have the urge to say things like that. Whew. The mask makes it a little tricky to use peripheral vision, but Lorna's in her line of sight at least a little, so that wave isn't entirely missed. Neither is the... Blink. Tray of brownies.

Sariel's first thought is antigravity. Her second thought is telekinesis. She doesn't voice either of those aloud, however. Catching the floating tray happens though, as does a tentative wave in return, a second later. Thank you?

Lorna waves cheerfully, and the plate retracts back to her. She's just doing her part to make the more intricately costumed people more comfortable.

And there goes the tray again. That has to be either some type of antigravity device or a telekinetic at work, Sariel isn't sure which. She didn't notice any attached mechanism, but...

She's as tentative moving as she was waving a moment before, but Sariel does follow in the wake of that tray eventually. Jingle, jingle go those tiny bells. "... Hello? Excuse me?"

"Oh hey. Can you move okay in that thing? It doesn't look very aerodynamic." Lorna is chatty, and alway glad to meet new people, especially people covered in glitter.

"Actually, it isn't as difficult to move in as some costumes I've seen here," Sariel admits. She still sounds a little tentative, a little formal. Lorna's friendliness is helping, though. Beat. "Or some carnival costumes," she adds. "But thank you."

She isn't asking about the bow. Never mind she has no idea what Lorna's costume represents.

"I've never worn one. I've always been more of a gawker. I don't even know what I am." The formality doesn't bother Lorna much. She's used to dealing with shy people, and at least Sariel is polite.

She shrugs, indicating the empty stool next to her own. "I'm Lorna Dane. Would you like to join me?"

Polite Sariel is, unless she has a darn good reason not to be. "Thank you," she says, and she almost sounds a touch surprised. Pleased, but surprised. She does take that stool, too.

"I'm used to wearing carnival costumes at home, but we never really celebrated Halloween. I'm Sariel Rager," she adds. She leaves her rank off for now, and from the slightest of hesitations before she gives her name, it might be evident that she has.

Lorna hasn't had much to do with people who have a rank to add to their names, so she doesn't notice the pause. She's more interested in the carnival thing, anyway.

"Really? Where are you from? Though there was Halloween, or something like it, almost everywhere."

"Home is the island of Saint Lucia," Sariel explains, and depending on whether or not Lorna knows where that is, it could explain the lack of Halloween festivities. "In the year 2369," she adds, because this is Milliways, and one can never be too careful. "And you?"

Hopefully she hasn't just thrown Lorna for a loop with the whole time reference thing.

Lorna hasn't been in many places beside America, Antarctica, Scotland, and Genosha. She won't press on the matter of Halloween, though, since it's often difficult to explain cultural differences to clueless outsiders.

"America. I'm from the western part, though more recently from somewhere deep in the bowels of space."

She laughs a bit. "And close to three centuries before your time." Time travel, resurrection, and possession are all part of a typical day for the X-men, so she'd not terribly thrown.

Trying to explain familiar customs to outsiders can get a little tricky, this is true. Sariel's been there a time or two. And speaking of being places...

The mask hides the majority of her face, but the startled turn of Sariel's head probably hints strongly at her expression. "You're traveling in deep space? And you're three centuries earlier in time than I am?" That's not the horrified sort of shock in her voice. It's surprised, but it's not unhappy.

((OOC: Sorry for the deletes and edits, ack. It's properly fixed now.))

"Oh! That must be. . . exceptionally boring. I'm not used to traveling that far from home. I only went because we were trying to stop a war. Or at least help make it not so bad."

Really, they had gone because Gabriel was crazy, and Xavier had wanted to keep his girlfriend in charge of her empire. That doesn't make a good story, though, and Lorna doesn't want to talk about Gabriel or Lilandra very much, anyway.

"We're headed home now, in a shuttle about the size of a king size candy bar. It makes for interesting discussions about elbows and what they
should be removed from."

(OoC: no worries! I just thought I was getting double tags for a minute.)

The startled inflections haven't left Sariel's voice, though most of the urgency has. "I serve in an organization dedicated to exploring the stars," she explains. "I'm a helmsman aboard a spacefaring vessel." A rather larger spacefaring vessel than Lorna's, by the sound of it. Never mind Sariel's not sure just how large a king-sized candy bar is. Small, anyway. Removing elbows from unexpected places indeed. That gets a chuckle, though Sariel does try to stifle it.

She'll ask about the war in a second.

"So you fly the ship? That's pretty hard work. I watched Ch'od do it for ten minutes once, and had to go do something else."

The most work Lorna had done was repairs and jury rigging, which perfectly suited her powers and personality. "Have you met a lot of alien species?"

That makes Sariel smile, small and real and warm. Darn that mask for hiding it. "I enjoy it." It shows, to listen to her just then. "Very much." Half a beat. "But any number of the other specialties aboard ship are beyond me." She's no engineer; leave that to people like Sonya and Tyler, and Commander La Forge. And Lorna, not that Sariel knows it.

Oop, alien subject change. "Yes, we have. In my universe, Earth is one world in a system of government called the Federation. Just now, members of fourteen different species serve aboard the ship I'm assigned to." That's not even getting in to the seeking out of new civilizations part of the equation.

Despite the mask, Lorna can tell Sariel's got the kind of smile that means she's happy with her work. She smiles in return, because it's so sweet. "It's good to have work that you love."

The idea of peaceful co-operation between that many different species blows Lorna away for a moment. Including the Shi'ar, who are really still a huge unknown, there are only a handful of alien races that will deal peacefully with humans.

"A lot must change in the next few centuries. Which makes sense, I suppose."

It really shows, doesn't it? Not that Sariel minds. "It truly is," she agrees.

It's the time and world reference that turns her serious again. "We likely aren't from the same reality," she says. "Three hundred years ago in my universe, human space travel had only just advanced to the point of interstellar flight."

If she wasn't fairly certain their realities were different, Sariel would've kept quiet about space travel, to be sure. Temporal Prime Directive ahoy.

"That makes sense. I doubt the various space empires would appreciate humans branching out into their turf. Even the ones that are friendly with us prefer that we stay on Earth."

She shrugs a bit. It's no skin off her back. Space travel makes her incredibly uncomfortable. If not for the bar, she'd probably have gone crazy.

"What is your Earth like? I'm curious to know what the differences are."

Ooh. Definitely not the same reality, then. If Sariel wouldn't sure before, that confirms it.

"From what I know of it, Earth in the twentieth century and Earth in my time are very different." Sariel thinks for half a second, then continues. "If it means anything, we don't use internal combustion engines anymore."

An Earth with no twentieth century car traffic? Some things really do change with time.

[OOC: Holy crap sorry, I'm such a flake. *hugs*]

"That's nice. I think we'd be there now, if Reed Richards could focus on inventing useful things, instead of world-saving devices."

She's quite fond of the ability to move a car with her powers. Never having to run out of gas is quite nice.

(No worries! *hugs* If you would like a fade, we can do that. Of course, keeping the thread going is good too. ;)

Sariel's head tilts slightly. "I'm sorry," she says, "but I'm not familiar with that name."

There's another difference between one world and the next.

[OOC: If you're up for continuing for a bit, I am. Chanter is flexible like a bendystraw as far as threading's concerned.]

"He's one of the first superheroes. He went into space with his best friend, his girlfriend, and her brother, and they all came back with superpowers. It was pretty amazing, especially for me. They were welcomed so eagerly, I hoped that I might get the same kind of welcome, some day."

To be fair, there were many places that Lorna had received a good welcome. There were still some bad places, though, and all in all, life sucked for most mutants.

(I'm up for continuing. I'm enjoying the thread)

Oh, now you've got her curious! Sariel's head tilts. Her expression of surprise and interest is hidden behind that carnival mask, but her tone probably makes at least some of it plain.

"Superpowers... as in enhanced mental abilities? Did they encounter something--" the tiniest of pauses, "--or someone out there?" An alien influence is not beyond the realm of possibility in Sariel's own universe, after all. Hers is a universe with telepaths and empaths, precognitives and travelers. It sort of figures she'd take Lorna's reference that way. Both those ways. Anyway.

"Radiation, is what I heard. After that, a scientist becomes a real life Jekyll and Hyde, a boy gets bitten by a radioactive spider. . . and the age of the superhero is born. At the same time, a pair of mutants are planning or actively gathering a bunch of kids who have abilities through less dramatic venues. They eventually form their own team, to protect those of us with powers from such an unacceptable source as our own inborn genetic structure."

She sighs a bit. Here's where it gets sticky for her and most of her race. "I shudder to think how much worse it would have been without the example of the Fantastic Four or the Avengers showing the world that powers didn't make a person evil."

Lore's in a good mood today. That might have to do with the fact that various people in the bar today are suffering in various ways (though perhaps not as seriously as he'd like). He's come downstairs to watch the show.

So Sariel might hear whistling from someone who you could say is wearing a costume. (What? The yellow uniform was on when he got here!)

He's sitting in one of the corners that has a good view of the room, with his feet up on the table.

How easily humans do that.

Sariel's part way across the room when she hears that whistled tune. Her head turns, and a half-second later she's altered course, heading for--well, she has no reason to think he's anyone other than who he appears to be. Even if he has got his feet up on the table--is he immitating human mannerisms?

"Good evening, sir," she says. Yes, she salutes. She won't be the one to bring up the feet on the table thing, at least not now. Maybe in a minute, if he doesn't.

Lore looks at her with a rather confused expression for a split second. Why would anyone here be calling him "Sir"...?

Oh no. She's one of Picard's little minions, isn't she?

"Good evening..." His voice trails off kind of awkwardly. Ensign? Lieutenant? What is she? Without those little pins, it's impossible to tell...

His tone is maybe a touch too dry, a touch too cautious to sound like his brother-- but Lore doesn't expect a human to pick up on that.

Anyone who calls Sariel a minion is sorely mistaken, say true. There's an entirely different sort of motivation behind how she lives. But yes, hi, Lore. The dryness doesn't register, at least not consciously, but that confusion does. Commander Data can be uncertain of an outcome, but truly confused...? And at a loss for a name?

"Ensign Rager, sir," she tries. Speaking of uncertainty, it's coloring her tone. Could he be malfunctioning?

"I knew that," Lore replies, with just a little too much bite in his tone.

"Enjoying yourself this evening?" he asks, sort of indicating her costume. Not that he cares, but he figures Data would probably engage in the same sort of useless small talk.

He still hasn't taken his feet off the table, though.

Too much bite indeed. Sariel flinches visibly, though she tries a little belatedly to hide it. "Yes, sir." That's in response to the first, not the second.

"The bar saw fit to change my uniform into a costume for the evening, sir," she offers, and she's still rather tentative, not to mention a little wrong-footed now. He must be making an effort to immitate human mannerisms. And human speech patterns. He...

Is something wrong, sir?

"She does seem to be playing a lot of tricks on people tonight," Lore muses, glancing around.

"As you were, Ensign," he says, crossing his arms and leaning back his chair.

That doesn't sound like Commander Data.

It *does*, in that it's Data's voice she's hearing, but immitation of human speech patterns notwithstanding, that simply doesn't sound like him. 'Playing tricks' without an attempted explanation of the phrase, and is that inflection quite--something feels off balance. Something feels wrong.

"Aye, sir." That's automatic, because what he says next *does* sound like him, and Sariel tries to follow that order. She really does. But he's leaning back in his chair, and his arms are crossed, and even if this is only an attempt at mimicking human behavior--something--

She doesn't ask her question outright. She can't fully articulate just why she doesn't, even to herself. Not right now, not in this moment. But something's on her sensors - something's--

"Permission to speak openly, Commander?" He's reprimanded her once tonight - she's treading carefully. Some things need to be asked, though.

Lore is quiet for a moment, pausing and looking the young woman over before responding.

"Fine. What is it?"

That's not like him. Commander Data does not - would not - does not respond to a formal request with 'fine'. Sariel knows this.

Something's wrong.

"Has the bar affected you as well, sir? In observance of the holiday?" Because maybe it has, maybe that's all this is, or maybe he's attempting to adjust his actions to the setting - maybe.

Hopefully.

Only now does Lore consider the idea that she might be onto him. It makes him just the tiniest bit nervous. But he'd never show it-- he's not afraid of this insignificant person.

Suppressing a sigh, Lore takes his feet off the table and gets out of his chair. He walks up to the ensign, standing just close enough to be uncomfortable and looking her straight in the eye.

"I do not know what you are referring to, Ensign," he says. "I am functioning within normal parameters."

He doesn't make much of an attempt to conceal the sparkle of irony in his eye, or the harsh, sarcastic tone of his voice.

It's more of a threat, really.

Anyone who calls Sariel insignificant is sorely mistaken, too. Say sorry, Lore.

Sariel flinches back, at his tone as much as his proximity. Maybe more than his proximity. Warning: Unidentified object approaching, dead ahead and closing fast. 200 kilometers, 100 kilometers and closing on current position. Take evasive action.

It's his tone of voice that clinches it. That, and the sparkle in his eye. This is wrong - something's wrong.

"Bar patrons have been given varied alterations in observance of a Terran holiday," she says. Her voice sounds brittle to her own ears, on the stilted side of formal. She refuses to let it waver. "Will you excuse me, sir?"

She won't leave until he dismisses her. She won't let her force composure crack until she's well clear. But she has chills, suddenly.

Lore never says sorry! (Even though he really should. Bad android.)

"You are excused," he tells her, with just a hint of a smirk on his face. "Oh, but before you go"-- he'll grab her arm if he has to-- "just promise me one thing.

"If you ever get the urge to mention this to anyone, don't."

His voice is dangerously serious. She'll know what he means, if she's ever brave enough to approach his brother again, and finds him acting normal.

(Lore's hoping this'll be enough to scare her. Because he really has no way of making sure she doesn't tell, and deep down he's worried what will happen if his brother finds out he's here.)

That tears it.

Sariel tenses involuntarily at Lore's hand on her arm. She's working consciously to reverse it the moment her brain catches up, but that doesn't stop the initial reaction. This is wrong. He's unnerved her, his hard vacuum coldness has scared her, to say otherwise would be a lie, but this is--

Hostile closing, 100 kilometers, 70, 50, 40. Evasive action, divert all available power to the shields.

She doesn't say a word. Lore could conceivably take her silence for ascent, but it isn't.

It's anything but.

Anyone who calls Sariel a minion is sorely mistaken. That isn't how she lives.

This isn't Commander Data. Not as she knows him.

Lore is wary. It's not his habit to trust people, and he's well aware that her silence could be one of defiance.

"Is that clear, Ensign?" he practically hisses.

His grip tightens, ever so slightly, as if he's trying to remind her that he could easily break her arm.

Oh, she knows he could break her arm. Sariel's well aware of android strength in the abstract. Commander Data makes no secret of his abilities.

This isn't Commander Data.

This isn't theoretical.

Commander Data doesn't hiss. Commander Data doesn't use physical force without good reason, and reinforcing a directive does not qualify. This is wrong. That increased pressure on her arm is chilling her, alarming her, actively frightening her; this is wrong - this is wrong - this is wrong. Red alert.

"Very clear, sir." It comes out a little quickly, a tiny bit shakily, but nevertheless, it's true. His wishes are extremely clear.

Sariel doesn't do contrary well, even tacitly, without a very good reason behind her. A lie to a superior officer, a sophistry--but something is dangerously wrong at best. At worse...

This needs investigating.

Red alert. Report.

This needs telling.

She has a good reason, today.

((OOC: Gaaaah! I only saw this now. Whew.))

"Good," Lore says, letting go of her arm.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to attend to." After giving her one last look, he walks past her and casually retreats up the stairs.

He hopes it was enough to scare her, enough to keep her from telling anyone about this. Just in case, he'll be extra cautious before coming down into the bar again.

He'd never admit it, but that look in her eyes made him nervous.

[OOC: It happens. XD We can wrap here or you can tag again if you'd like. Thanks for the thread!]

"Sir," she says. And then he's up the staircase, and she isn't, and she's left standing there in her carnival costume, cold with a chill that has nothing to do with her clothing.

He scared her, say true.

But some things need reporting.

Anyone who calls Sariel a minion is very, very wrong.

About as wrong as they'd be if they called her a coward.

That costume doesn't revert back to a uniform until she's opened the front door and put one foot through. It shifts in a shimmering heartbeat, and she's gone in the next second.

She won't reach for her communicator until she's shut the door and gotten at least two steps into the room beyond. But she'll reach for it.

[OOC: <3!]