ataraxion | 1st incision ♠ VIDEO

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1st incision ♠ VIDEO

[ Nigel isn't a luddite in any way, shape or form, though he's never been fond of technology in any strong sense. For a young man who liked to spend his time wrist-deep in the insides of once-living things, far too often technology and all of its trappings struck him as too clinical, too detached. Too bloodless. And so, it's with a fair amount of fiddling that he finally manages to get his communicator to work, choosing the video options after scrolling through one and then the other, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of each.

When the image clicks on, the Network is greeted with a young man in his late teens — strong-jawed and handsome, tidy and in a jacket and tie, his bangs pushed across his forehead in a damp swipe of dark hair. He looks, for all intents and purposes, perfectly harmless. And when he speaks, his voice is surprisingly low and oddly lulling despite the way it seems to lie flat over certain phrases. ]

Hello, Tranquility, [ the young man says simply, revealing himself to be English and with quite good diction. ] I've questions and it seems there are some of you who may provide answers.

So.

Where might I inquire about the dead?

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[ Though his response is voice only, Oxford leans in close to his communicator to observe the young man on the other end of the feed, curious. It's hardly a normal question to ask, and coming from someone as seemingly youthful as this boy, it seems even stranger. He answers somewhat at length, in an ambiguous tone that does not quite say how he feels about this question. ]

There are several medically trained individuals on board you could speak to, though I assume the medical bay would perhaps be somewhere to start. [ He pauses. ] Mind you, as far as I know we have been free from deaths so far, so who knows what you might find.

[ If there is any inherent strangeness both in Nigel's inquiry and the way he presents it, Nigel seems either blissfully unaware of that fact or can't be bothered to care. ]

No deaths. [ A beat. ] How fortuitous. I've always been lead to believe that space is quite treacherous, though very few have been there personally where I'm from. [ His attention drifts to one side and he continues, though it's not clear whom he's speaking to — himself or the man on the device. ] People have a tendency to do that. Talk about things they know nothing about.

[ Eventually, his eyes slide back and Nigel smiles suddenly and very slightly, as if he's just remembered how to. ] Might I inquire after their names? The medical staff.

Edited 2012-01-16 15:32 (UTC)

[ ...alaric could touch on how really creepy this entire post is, but he won't. he wants to but he won't. (let it be known that, nigel, you have just been put on the "watch like a hawk" list. sorry.

alaric clears his throat before answering, opting for video because it seems like an acceptable plan. ]

That depends on what you're...inquiring about the dead.

[ If Alaric did point out Nigel's behavior to him, he certainly wouldn't be the first to do so. Over the past seventeen years, he's been called 'odd', 'distracted', 'disappointingly hopeless', 'a good boy but strange' and (most recently) a 'creepy little shit'. For no one except Nigel the path trending towards escalation has always been clear but it wasn't until recently that he discovered where that path lead: to a shotgun in the face, apparently. Thus, his inquiry.

Creepiness aside however, he remains polite, though he doesn't smile (it doesn't seem appropriate) when he says: ]

Those that should be but aren't. Specifically, among the passengers.

So far I'd say the only treachery taking place here is the inclusion of these ghastly jumpsuits. [ He speaks dryly. ] I can hardly give an accurate description of life in space, mind you, as I too am not from an actively space-faring origin.

[ He doesn't make a noticeable pause before he goes on, though he frowns to himself, thoughtfully. ] The only member of medical staff I'm familiar with so far is Dr. Watson, though I believe he has some others assisting him.

Edited 2012-01-16 15:55 (UTC)

Dr. Watson, [ he muses, as if the man's made a joke. The name is familiar to him, of course, but how many dentists and general practitioners and internists were there in the world at large with such a common name as that. Many, Nigel assumes. ] Yes, of course.

[ And then, Nigel laughs, light and barely there (more like an exhale, really) and his face spreads with an open grin. Brief but present and markedly unstrange — the smile of any amused teenaged boy; it's there and then gone again, his eyes still intent. ] I was lucky enough to be provided my uniform. Quite convenient, our lockers. [ Again, his tone of voice goes oddly flat before recovering again. ] Offering up tokens from home.

[ Oxford says nothing more about the good Dr. Watson, if only because he feels it is by far more interesting to discover these odd little quirks by one's self, even if certain people don't wish to play along (ahem). The boy's response indicates that the name rings a bell, at least, and it makes Oxford smile, briefly. ]

There's been quite a variety in what the ship has decided to provide us with. Some have received trinkets, others clothes, valuables. I suppose it's only good manners to give us something we can appreciate after spontaneously taking us hostage.

[ at worst, alaric might say something about just creepy. no shit attached to it because he's a teacher and a good teacher doesn't call their students 'creepy little shits' or jackasses. not that he knows anything about it.

he does, however, know a bit about being alive when you should be dead. in fact, he knows more than he'd like to admit. ]

Are you one of those people?

[ because color him curious. ]

Yes, it's been quite helpful in that respect. Despite being not at all in others.

[ Nigel has yet to decide whether or not the whole business of being alive again when he most certainly shouldn't be is helpful or not. If anything, it was a test of faith, a means to prove himself. One last trial by fire before inheriting all that lay beyond the crucible and forge. The thought distracts him but only briefly. ] It seems an odd collection of hostages, if that's what we are.

[ Nigel blinks at the stranger and then says, quite simply: ] That's a rather forward question to ask.

[ Not that Nigel cares, exactly, though he does seem to glean the occasional morsel of satisfaction at seeing people twist under the knife of things like presumption and offense. In the end, it's just a ruse and one not held very close to the chest. As quickly as he adopts it, he discards it again. ]

I am, [ Nigel says without so much as a flicker of emotion on the matter. ]

[ there isn't much Ariadne seems to be all too shocked about - at least as of late. but when the screen flickered on showing what appeared to be some standard boy - British no less - asking about the dead. Well, that obviously had Ariadne looking slightly puzzled as she peered into the device, as her head slowly started to tilt in consideration of it all. ]

Why? [ there isn't much more you can ask then that after all. ]

[ To Nigel the question seems quite obvious. He himself was meant to be dead, after all, and so had Natalie — the woman he had woken from stasis beside on the Medbay floor. If there were two of them, why not four or eight or sixteen? For all he knew this whole ship was populated by the dead and Nigel — unsavy and unsubtle, technologically speaking — had little choice but to ask. ]

Because it's relevant to my interests, [ he says simply. ] Am I the first to breech the subject?

[ The only exposure Ariadne had with someone looking for the dead - well, it was one in all honesty that seemed to only bring pain to the person (and whomever was around them) looking. So she does not fully understand why someone would outright be seeking out this sort of thing.

And to be honest, she was still under the impression that everyone on this ship was in fact alive - perhaps slightly different, but nonetheless alive.

So the statement he gives her only seems to cause her brow to furrow slightly, looking at him confused and silent a moment, before she calmly asks: ] What are your interests exactly? [ curiosity evident in her tone. ] Because, yes, you are the first person I've heard ask about this.

[ There was no real reason to tiptoe around the subject, not when Nigel had been so blatant in asking and had revealed what was the truth to another one of the passengers on the ship. It wasn't anything he was ashamed of really, but lies weren't the sort of thing that Nigel was particularly good at. There was the lie of omission, of course, which Nigel was in fact quite good at; but the other kind of lie, the kind that required deception built on deception like a tenuous house of cards — that sort of lying he was pisspoor at. (Jack had always been the brilliant liar between them.)

Without so much as a flicker in his expression, which remains oddly matter-of-fact, he tells the stranger: ] I died.

[ A beat and then the flatness of Nigel's expression changes, slips into an uncanny smile, mischievous at the very edges, like he's got some sort of secret. ] And now I'm here.

"Odd" is a veritable understatement.

[ Oxford knows this himself all too well. ]

And is there any point to it all? [ Nigel's voice continues with some of its vague amusement, only this time it's sharpens over the word 'point' with a bristling of irritation. ] Any commonalities to explain why us?

[ Nigel has a suspicion why him. Though it's nothing he'd share in mixed company. ]

There certainly isn't anything obvious to link us all, I can tell you that. If one is being optimistic, then perhaps the "point" is to provide us with some kind of thrill. [ The curve of his smile is far, far from optimistic. ] Realistically speaking, however, I would merely just consider us unlucky, though I'm fairly sure not everyone would necessarily agree.

Uh. What do you need to know from them?

[ Nigel takes his time in answering. ]

What happens to the dead here. If anything at all.

[ Nigel's mouth purses dubiously but again, he continues to sound more or less cheerful, albeit in a rather unfocused way. ]

It seems like quite a lot of effort to go to. For the sake of a bit of thrill and poor luck.

[ there isn't all too much that seems to surprise ariadne lately - the ship is full of surprises after all. but his words, well, those have ariadne caught off guard, and it is clear by the look that now is spread across her face.

she doesn't say anything a moment, as she just finds herself looking at him in question, just trying to wrap her head around how that is even possible. and the only possible explanation she seems to be able to come up with seems to be one that leans to him being a shade. but of who, that really would be the question.

a deep breath, and she is slowly asking: ] How? [ her words are short. but really, this is all she needs to understand now. ]

[ She is a rather pretty girl isn't she, Nigel thinks, though he only understands this concept in the abstract sense, rather than a more meaningful, emotional one. What he knows of beauty he's learned from his hobbies in anatomy (symmetry of bone structure, sexual evolution) and his study history (the ever-evolving popular definitions of femininity). Still, it's enough to get Nigel's attention to linger on the stranger's face for a moment or two longer than perhaps he should before looking away with something of a light shrug. ]

That is quite the question, [ he says, his voice entertaining the possibility of offense. He looks back into the camera with his dark blue eyes. ] And I don't even know your name yet. That seems a bit out of turn, don't you find?

[ his lingering attention doesn't go unnoticed. and admittedly it is slightly unnerving. but anytime someone can sense they are part of someone’s thoughts for perhaps longer then an acceptable amount of time, it seems rather understandable. which causes her head to tilt to the side, letting her eyes narrow just slightly on him as she fixes him with a stare all her own. ]

I'm not the one asking about the dead. [ she then points out, perhaps sounding slightly defensive as she does. her head still cocked to the side, she slowly starts to rub at the back of her neck, considering her next few words. ]

Anne. [ a lie obviously, one she is rather surprised she so quickly was able to do also. but the fact he claims to be dead, well that has ariadne clearly on edge with the trusting then. she is intrigued nonetheless though ] You are?

Edited 2012-01-17 04:49 (UTC)

[ It seems to please Nigel, the way 'Anne' doesn't seem to wither in the wake of his stare, instead choosing to stare back with a bit more pointedness. Most people would shrink away or avert their gaze, falling back on what was polite and expected, rather than acting on their own instinct or desires. That this 'Anne' seems willing to push back is, well. Perhaps interesting. ]

No, I'm the one asking and as far as my inquiry is concerned, what's relevant is that I've died at all. Not the details of it. [ Nigel pauses and in that pause his mouth twitches as if deciding whether to smile or to frown. In the end, it does neither, though his eyes seem to brighten as he continues. ] Death, you see, is quite personal. You'll realize that, when your time comes.

[ Then, as politely as it can be possibly said (and not obsequious or caustic in the slightest): ] My name is Nigel.

[Natalie's at least feeling a little better -- whatever paleness she had before has gone away for the moment. She's been reading the other posts, so she feels better-educated about these things.]

[She smiles beatifically and ... neatly ignores his question for now.]

Did you find your quarters all right?

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