milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Sooraya is sitting in Milliways today with a flowerpot and a small tray of flowers in a rainbow of colors, each with a big open boom at the end of the stem. It isn't particularly messy work to be transferring them over, since none are root bound, and it's a pot definitely large enough to give her room to work.

The thing she's not drawing attention to is that they're all poppies: not that she has the faintest idea of how one distills any sort of drug from them, although she knows it's possible. Mostly they remind her of home, however tainted that memory is. Still, they're nice flowers, and not as showy as people assume.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The plants get a curious look.

It would be an unobtrusively curious look on anyone else, but in this case the person looking is Fawkes, and he is physically incapable of doing anything unobtrusively no matter how hard he tries. He looms by default.

When his shadow falls over her table, she looks up and starts, because he's quite large; quite large.

"Oh," she says, blinking widely at him. "Hello."

"Good afternoon," rumbles Fawkes politely. He's trying to develop an indoor voice, really he is, but he hasn't got the anatomy to do the job very well. It's loud, or it's nothing. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I was admiring your plants there."

"Thank you," she says, looking back at them for a moment. "They're poppies. They grow wild in the country where I was born," Sooraya finishes, lifting a pale purple petal with her fingertips.

"It's alright, you're not interrupting. You just startled me, since you're so tall."

"I have a tendency to do that to people," Fawkes admits. "I've been working on that. I may need to start wearing something that makes noise."

When he's not on guard duty, anyway.

"Is your native country on Earth? I know not everyone who comes to this place comes from the same planet."

With a slow smile, the girl shakes her head with a quiet rustle of fabric. "No, you don't. I expect we'll get used to you." He reminds her of Santo, really, if Santo was twice the size he is, and not made of rock.

"It is," Sooraya answers. "I'm from Afghanistan, but I live currently in the United States. In New York."

Fawkes nods. "I've never met anyone from that far north," he says. "I live near Washington, DC, myself. My name is Fawkes, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

There is, after all, no point in being rude.

"Oh, there are people from farther north than me, even," she says. "I've been to Washington once. I didn't...particularly like it." Far too many sideways looks directed at her.

"My name is Sooraya, and it's a pleasure meeting you too. You remind me of a friend I go to school with, he's big like you are." And made of rock. So there's that.

Fawkes nods. "I don't doubt there are," he says. "My friend is currently on a mission into Pennsylvania, and she's reported on some of the people she's met. But we come from a world where things are... not very congenial to travel. Or congenial at all, really. I won't dump it on someone whom I've only just met; I only wanted to clarify."

"Sometime I think my world is that way too. But some of the others have far less problem with it than I do and it's difficult to tell certainly," Sooraya says with a little smile, quick to appear and equally quick to fade as she fluffs the petals on one of her flowers.

"Who's your friend?"

"A human woman named Ellen Park, or Paladin 101," says Fawkes. "She's here more often than I am. The door refused to open for me for some time; I'm not sure why. I hear it can do that to people without a warning."

"She sounds like someone worth knowing." Sooraya knows what a Paladin is, at any rate, and that applied to a woman not a part of a made-up game is new.

"If I see her here when you're here, I can introduce you, if you would like," says Fawkes. "But that- that's in the future."

He gestures to the poppies again. "If I may ask- are plants like these very difficult to grow? I'm only familiar with a few farm plants, not ornamental ones."

"That would be nice," Sooraya returns, nodding. "The future is unpredictable, I understand. If she simply doesn't come in while you're here I'm sure we'll meet somehow." If it's meant to be it will happen. Such thoughts are a lot of what contributes to her serenity.

"Not very, no. They grow very well in what amounts to very poor soil, very sandy and rocky, but I must warn you several places classify them as illegal. These are opium poppies," she says.

"I don't think that's really likely to be a problem," says Fawkes. "I mean, if I were to try to grow any, that is. The world I'm from is ... not really known for having laws, or particularly organized settlements. On the other hand, we're also limited in terms of our resources, so it might be best to keep our water and growing soil for food plants instead."

"It might be smarter for you to do that, yes," she says. "Opium is a powerful painkiller and sedative, but it's incredibly addictive. My country has a somewhat spotty history with producing it."

Fawkes nods. "The synthetic painkillers we have are enough of a problem," he says. "I suppose it's best to leave things as they stand, then. Still, they are appealing plants."

"They're very pretty," she says. "I like them as ornaments, partly because they look so delicate. There are whole fields of them near where I grew up."

"That must have been quite a sight to see," says Fawkes. "One day I hope the Capital Wasteland has sights like that."

"Fields of flowers, perhaps, but I wouldn't wish poppies on many people. They're hard to control, and to resist."

Fawkes nods. "And I don't think I'd like to see what would happen if the Brahmin grazed on anything that could produce a narcotic effect," he rumbles. "The cattle are tough enough to defend as it is."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only