ataraxion | 002

[ When the video flicks on, there's some really terrible shaky cam going down. Shots of the floor and ceiling interspersed with brief glimpses of Tyke's back, as Tommy tries to get a decent shot of the... Whatever it is. Like a stream of black sand moving through the air like smoke. ]

What the hell is that?

No fucking idea.

[ There's a dog barking at the black thing, shuffling fearfully on its paws but putting up a loud front. The camera jostles as Tommy shifts it to his other hand. ]

You're the one who's seen weird shit.

Yeah. Doesn't mean I've seen all the weird shit ever. [ She moves closer, crouching down next to the dog that's barking, putting a hand on its neck. It quiets down to growls. ] The dogs don't like it. I don't like it.

[ Tommy's response is just a grunt of affirmation. He's not sure he needed the dogs to figure that one out, but they're sure being clear about it. ]

Are you videoing? [ The camera catches Tyke glancing over her shoulder as she says it, noting that he is and nodding. Then the camera swings around, framing the lower left quarter of Tommy's face. ]

Anyone got something to add here?

[ ooc: Tommy, Taylor ]

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Dogs are too. [Snappish, already easily riled up by the situation, she doesn't need someone telling her the importance of what her dogs think.] But they still don't have hands or guns.

[ She doesn't wish to argue. Arguing, quite often, did nothing but waste time and effort and she does not know this girl, thinks her neither friend nor foe. Tommy, on the other hand. It was for him that she made any true effort at all. ]

All the more reason to leave it be. Were it flesh and bone, the animals could rend it, harm it and protect you. But as it is— if they are riled and think you threatened — they have no means to combat it, and you are at a great disadvantage.

I've dealt with things that aren't flesh or bone before. [Or they were flesh and bone, they just didn't go down like a human should.] Just need to know what it is.

You've dealt with things that are neither flesh nor bone before, [ she repeats, somewhat dumbly, the incredulity thick in her voice. ] That issues you no guarantee in this endeavor.

[ A pause and then: ] You are a stubborn as he is.

There's never any guarantees. You get over that the first time you see someone die.

[She'd always suspected Sparrows of treating a lot of the girls like cannon fodder. It had been another reason to hate her and the Academy. But it hadn't stopped her from going out and fighting.]

Yeah, probably. [And there's a brief smile. She doubts it was meant as a compliment, but:] Thanks.

[ There's never any guarantees, Alayne knows this to be true. But as for the rest, she shakes her head, the motion giving off a soft rustling sound of her long hair against the fabric of her dress. ] Not all of us are given over to steel so quickly. [ She's seen death, been party to it, and has stared into its eyes as it held her throat, as it pulled her hair and bid her come, come. Once she believed herself to be more than ivory and porcelain, but there is part of Alayne that is still moved by death and still fears it — for herself and others. (Perhaps that part of her is still Sansa, and in being Sansa, perhaps it is weakness.) ]

—are you a warrior?

[ Can you fight? ]

[Taylor's a bit lost by the steel comment, really. Not always the quickest, if she had the time and the attention to sit and think over Alayne's speaking patterns, she'd do a better job of keeping up. At the moment, too much of her is focussed on watching the black cloud and trying to analyse ways to deal with it.]

Warrior? [She couldn't even truly call herself a soldier. Someone from the Academy would understand, but calling herself a student to these people would make them think of desks and books, not what Taylor's role as a student of Cartazonos really was.] I'm trained and I fight, if that's what you mean.

[ Bannerman. Soldier. Sellsword. Knight. There are a dozen different words for warrior in Alayne's world and each holds a different rank of honor, each garners its own infamy or prestige. From the greatest king to the lowliest hedgeknight, all have their lords and oaths of fealty, each swear by something and is moved by something — whether it be the good of the realm or the glittering song of a moneypurse.

Tommy is soldier by admission and so his actions are gilded by the trappings of greater duty and honor; irregardless of how he carries himself, she sees it and despite whatever meager words pass his lips, she hears it every time he speaks. (She suspects that it the weight he bears on his shoulders, that and some other nameless sentiment that she's yet to trace.)

But what of this girl, so steeled to death. Alayne stares at the small image of her on the device before asking: ]

And for whom do you fight, whose banner do you fly? Is it the same as Tommy's?

[Taylor has never really given much thought on who - or what - she fights for. She just fights, because that was what she was meant to do. A mission briefing, orders, a location drop - Cartazonos trained them to be weapons. It was simply a matter of pointing in the right direction and pulling the trigger.

But she didn't have orders here. Has been working under the idea that this is another mission, but has no specifics. Incidents have happened, and she has tried her best to help, but that's all she's managed to do.]

I'm not from the same place as him. [That was what she meant, asking about banners, right?] I fight for whoever needs me, here.

Bannerless, then, [ Alayne murmurs and it is not an insult nor anything near to one, just an absent observation. Banners had once meant something grand — a great oath sworn generation after generation, a fealty that could not be broken without the punishment of shame or even death. But with the War of Kings, many of the ancient pacts had been broken — even guest right had lost its profundity — and so promises made before gods and men lost much of their meaning to Alayne. ]

And which call do you answer to first: that of duty or that of coin?

[ A warrior without banners could still have honor, while a sellsword took orders from the opening and closing of a purse-string. Who this girl was was still a mystery to Alayne, but her obvious camaraderie with Tommy made the question fester. ]

[She isn't really bannerless, she thinks, and almost protests. She was a student of Cartazonos, trained for excellence, one of the best - but those were Pinset's words. Not hers. And she'd told Pinset to choke on them enough times, she wasn't going to cough them up now.]

Money doesn't matter.

[Taylor had never even handled money of her own before, only seven when the Academy had taken her. There was no money within those walls, and there was none on this ship. She knew about it in concept, but it had never been important to her.]

[ Alayne mulls over the words, then asks: ]

Does duty matter? Does goodness?

[ The world was filled with all manner of men and, in tandem, all manner of women as well. Some fought simply for the sake of fighting, spurned on by the clash of metal in their ears and tang of blood in their mouths. Perhaps this warrior women was among their rank. Perhaps not. (She would not know, lest she ask.) ]

[The words just don't make sense to her for a moment. Where did duty or goodness fall? Taylor did what she was ordered, and without orders, she did what she could to help. Was it duty and goodness with the Academy? Was it duty here? She frowns, and as the words continue to refuse to settle into anything she can work with, it turns into a scowl.]

You know, I was never any fucking good at philosophy.

[She shakes her head slightly, a tense, uncomfortable looking motion.]

What matters right now is figuring out what this thing is and making sure it doesn't hurt anyone. Does that answer your questions?

[ It would be weakness to find the girl's tone hurtful, to admit that it is frustrating to only wish a person well through caution and to see such advisement denied (even, perhaps, for good reason. ]

It does, [ Alayne says, her tone proper (no, prim; no, curt). It was obvious to her that Tommy and her companion were determined to whatever it is they meant to do. What does it matter to you? she asks herself and though she knows the answer care, Alayne swallows that down and provides a new answer (she always been good of convincing herself of whatever is necessary at the time).

It doesn't matter, she thinks. It doesn't matter at all. ]

Thank you, [ she says, though she's not thankful at all, and disconnects the feed. ]

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