Reba and Emery in Salmaganda

[Viridis]

In this log spanning four sessions, Emery and Reba (from Migo's campaign) venture ashore after three days at sea on the Picadillo, eager to see the island city of Salmaganda and to get to know each other. Emery claims this is the longest continuous scene he's ever roleplayed.

[Viridis]

Aetheris - Docks
The clamor of this place is enough to reveal it as a hub of commerce. It's more than that, though--it's the launching point for anyone who wants to leave Eoma for other lands. As such, it's a place of adventure. The ships range generally from small sailboats to brigs around 100 feet in length, with many types represented between. On occasion, large trade vessels such as argosies, sporting tremendous cargo space and as many as seven sails, take harbor.
Whenever a large cargo ship comes in, it's something like a party in its shadow, only the activity is serious and concerns people's fortunes and livelihoods. It's usually not too hard to find people looking for a crew member, if that's the fate you seek.The docks themselves are mostly either green or mahogany in color, and are as varied in size and height as the ships themselves. You might even be able to jump from one to another in some places. Removed from them are merchants with shaded stands and kiosks, and the occasional scout looking for a buyer or a seller for quantities in bulk. And of course, the nearest part of the city is replete with taverns fine, seedy and rustic--how could it be otherwise?
If you're looking for a bustling place where anything can happen, you've come to the right place.

[ Obvious Exits: <West>, <South>, <North> ]
[ Players: Jin, Emery ]
[ Sleepers: Felix_Goodwin, Migo, Alyra, Ravis ]

[Viridis]

Given that the debacle involving the assassin had gotten most of the city up in arms and on alert, Emery had personally not relished the thought of walking around in the main streets and getting pointed at. So he had opted to head for the outskirts along the beach, where the buildings were smaller and the people less bustling. Hands in his pockets, people pointed nonetheless. Apparently white foxes (and bats, and purple raccoons, if his companions were with him) were not a common sight. The waves were calm and very appropriate for taking a walk near them. Homes and crafstmen were pre-dominant here on the cobbled path. He looks back and forth, never tiring of the scenery, feeling like he's walked into a historical holo-vid. It's astonishing to even walk on a stone path. He hasn't felt one in years with bare footpaws.

Reba is walking quietly beside Emery on the oceanward side, watching where she sets her feet, and occasionally kicking a pebble. She sometimes falls a few paces behind, and sometimes steps ahead, but doesn't get too far away from her companion. She watches the people with a certain amount of interest, but her mind isn't all in the process of discovery or the attitude of a traveler. Her clothes, already worn, are just getting dirtier, and her stomach growls.

Reba must have been in torment if she was hungry. Fishermen and cooks were hawking exotic foods everywhere they looked. Salt and spice was in the air, even out here. Emery had wisely asked for some local currency before they stepped out, and given that he hadn't eaten since this morning, he was a mite peckish. He nods up at a small but busy inn they stop next to, situated off one of the minor ports. It's called The Sailor's Rest, with the sign shaped ominously like... a coffin. "This looks as good a place as any to eat," Emery says, nonplussed, looking back at Reba for confirmation.

Reba stops wandering and watching the sand under her feet. She glances over, perking up her ears. "Hm?" she says. Her pupils dilate to take in the character of the barrio, and it's evident that she hasn't really been paying much attention so far. "Wow," she mouths. "Uh...you want to go and get a meal there, then?" She feels, in fact, I lot like she did when she found herself in an Aetheris she didn't recognize, just before meeting Migo. The clouds are checkered, stratus, and block out some of the sun's rays, letting yellow and gray alternate mystically.

"Well, yeah," Emery answers with a shrug. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. That's eternity for a soldier. Come on, it doesn't look like a cesspool of scum and villainy, so I think it's fine." No sooner does the door open than he has to tilt his head to the side to avoid a flying mug that crashes into the wall behind him. The offender, though, obviously intoxicated, is quickly removed from the premises, and order is restored just like that. The floor is clean, the air clear. Above the door hangs a sign with the rules: No singing too loud, no doors locked. Immediate ejection if spit on floor. It's not very crowded, and a group of musically inclined dock workers plink on their instruments in one corner.

<OOC> Migo says, "The island has a "Mediterranean" climate; hot dry summers and cool, wet winters (it's probably spring right about now). It's about the size of Oahu IRL, and its the regional headquarters for the trade guild. The population is about 65% Ebarrii ferrets, with the next most populous race being the Bevoir (ermines/stouts, Larise's people - French). Then there's Gelerts (vulpines and non-lupine canines, Almagest's race - Dutch) and Meracyans (rats - English). Occasionally you may see a Pedae (rabbit - Italian), most likely an official of the guild. There's also an embassy of the Si'an (bats - Slavic) on the mountain behind the town (because they like the heights and its the only mountain that's near a port in the region)."
<OOC> Migo says, "Oh, and a smattering of Asalans (mongooses and meerkats - Arabic) as well. The Si'an, I should note, are divded distinctly into the commoners (fruit bats) and nobles (vampire bats). And yes, the nobles are mostly nocturnal, except from the BRight-Eyed ones who can manage the daytime."
<OOC> Reba was wondering more as to their lifestyle.
<OOC> You say, "Like, what kind of buildings will we encounter? Is this place Emery's described reasonable?"
<OOC> Migo says, "Nothing too specific other than its a "Spanish" Renaissance-era town. Use your imagination "

Reba shrieks abruptly and jerks back as the mug smashes against the wall, narrowly missing her companion. "Holy ****!!" she ejaculates. "You could've been killed! Oh my God!" She stumbles back from the door, raising eyebrows and halting finger-plucking within. "Let's get out of here, Emery. I'm scared." She pulls on his wrist, aiming to retreat to the beach.

Apparently the others (Emery included) are used to the occasional flying projectile, and can't help but stare a moment as Reba panics. Not wanting to cause a scene or deal with a distressed raccoon the entire meal, Emery assents to the route. "Uh, we'll just go this way," he saysto the other patrons, pointing out the door as they head back outside. Emery smiles placidly as he takes Reba's paw to try and calm her down. "That wouldn't have *killed* me," he says with confidence. "Broken my nose, sure. But okay, *you* can choose the next one."

Reba is shaken. It's more than a dangerous mug that's clearly got her rattled. And is that any surprise? Every day with Jin is another boatload of astonishing revelations, and it's gotten to Reba, and now that she's able to sink down on her knees in the sand, filled with pebbles though it is, she does so. "Oh, holy stars holy stars holy sky holy trees holy ground holy grass holy," she breathes, her voice expulsed swiftly and softly. She takes two handfuls of dirty sand and dribbles them onto her own head.

Emery is confused by Reba's sudden breakdown. She had struck him as a rather laid-back and accepting individual. If anything, he was the one that was supposed to be panicking. It was probably his training that was letting him keep a better head than her. People start to stare when she drops down and plops dirt on her head. He waves them off and kneels down next to her. "Is... there a reason you have to do that?" he wonders aloud. He's starting to get the feeling that the mug was just the figurative back-breaker.
Reba leans on her left arm and slouches onto her side, looking like she's both relaxing and stressed at the same time. "No. I want to get *clean* really. Oh, man, Emery, I'm just so freaked out by this whole adventure. It's not like a normal adventure. This could be, could very well be, the one that changes my life. I've gone on so many larks, islands like this one, it shouldn't be anything new, but...I'm so freaked out." The poor girl is pretty wide-eyed, and seems to be close to tears.

Emery looks up at the beating waves. Even though she was, by the look of it, four or five years older than him, he seemed to be more mature as far as 'adventuresome' behavior went. "Adventures... really aren't what we say they are," he says quietly. "I've been through a lot, Reba. Seen a lot of people die. My life's been changed in ways I can't imagine years before I met you. But that doesn't stop it from being scary whenever it happens." He slowly reaches out to put a hand around her shoulders, unsure of what else to do. "But you're not alone, you know. I'm freaked out, even if I don't show it. I don't like it here. I have things to do back home, and this... could even go beyond that. But we all need to realize we can't stop real change. It's gonna happen, whatever we do. And we need to accept what we're becoming. Damned if I know what we're changing *into* now, but... you know. It's okay to be afraid. But don't let it paralyze you. You need to change it into focus." And, of course, *she* can go back whenever s
she wants. He tugs at her. "But I think it'll be easier to do all that if we find a place to get clean and fed first, hmm?"

Reba looks at the ocean, and when she shifts into a more balanced position, she seems to be blank for most of Emery's speech. "I don't hate it here," she says at last. "I like it here. Aside from the deadly mug. My grandmother died in a brawl outside a bar. I'm just on pins and needles." She stands up, with a little effort, and sirt pours off of her head. "Oh, wow. I really need a bath. You think that inn is safe, now that that guy's gone?" Reba seems to appreciate Emery holding her shoulders--she holds his arm now that she's standing.

"It's been safe," Emery replies simply, not releasing his hold on Reba in case she falls over again. "They tossed that guy right after he threw the mug. Only if you're sure, you know..." But he leads her back nonetheless. This time, nothing happens, but the bartender, a stout stoat, raises his eyebrow at the odd pair. Everything is as it was, minus the dangerous drunkard. It's as if it had never happened. "You got clean baths here, right?" is the first thing Emery says. "Clean? What do you think, I like dirty tubs? Five coppers," is the bartender's answer, his voice thick with a pseudo-French accent. "And *no splashing,* eh?" He whistles for one of his attendants to show them the way. Emery lets Reba stand on her own when they hit the stairs as he opens his pouch to pay. Being used to near daily showers, he throws in some extra for himself. He hates the feel of dirty fur when his is normally so clean and poofy.
Reba isn't going to fall. She's not actually unstable--when she sank to the ground, she did it of her own volition. She does seem a little shaky inside the inn at first, and a little apologetic in the way she faces the innkeeper. The idea of a clean bath is fantastic to her, though. "Thanks, Em," she whispers as they follow the attendant down a set of wide, curving stairs to a basement bathhouse. The floor and walls down here are deep red, and the air is warm and humid. Reba digs out a large copper coin worth about five normal ones and hands it over.

The bathhouse is not exactly the most sophisticated in the world, but beggars can't be choosers. Several large rooms partitioned with wooden walls are the order of the day, each furnished with a tub and several buckets with which to dump the water in. There's one large public bath in the back, which could fit around five people, but obviously it'd be prohibitively expensive, and Emery is only looking for a quick wash. He allows the attendant to fill his tub, slides his curtain shut, drops the bar of soap, and in he goes. He can't help but let out a loud cry of "Oh, yeah!" as he dunks himself. Warm, clean water after days on a boat. Best day ever.

Reba moves to her own tub with her own curtain without any protest or clinginess. She doesn't exactly seem excited about it, but it does bring her pleasure. Her silhouette can be seen behind the curtain, sinking away...with the dirt trailing off to cake the surface of her tub before it slowly sinks. Blurbble bubbrrble.

Blurble blurble indeed. But Emery is more hungry than dirty, and spares only a few minutes to lazing around before he starts scrubbing himself. It's odd to think he's using a real, hand-made bar of soap, probably made from some animal fat or the like. But that doesn't stop him from cleaning himself vigorously. In fifteen minutes, and one rinse later, he's out again. Reflecting that his clothes might need a scrub, he uses what's left in the buckets to scrub out any stains, and heads back into the main hall, feeling much better about life in general. "I'll be upstairs," he says through Reba's curtain.
"All right!" calls Reba with surprising cheer, compared to her shaken state from a few minutes prior. Emerydoesn't encounter any trouble is drying, dressing, and heading up again, and his meal is pretty decent, although surely rather jarring compared to his accustomed fare, and he has to trust the server to bring him something he likes because he presumably can't speak the language. There's someone on an Ebarryan guitar at the back, with the lutists, and a weasel boy about ten years old on woodblocks. The guitarist, after finishing a little tune, gets up and peers at Emery. He's a largish, blue-grayish ferret, with nice clothes, red and green, with a spread collar and no hat. He says something in Ebarryan with a grin.
"
Emery has a hard time picking out what's what in his own food. But it does have a very distinct taste. He has to say it's one of the few good things he's found so far. The musicians are what really catch his eye, though. There's no real conflict with him speaking his foreign language. It sounds friendly, and Emery always has the excuse that he's a fox and simply never learned his lingo. But there may be an opportunity here. It's not some freaky alien guitar, it's one he can use, can get used to... and so he decides. He stands up, and rather boldly takes a few steps forward. He gestures to the guitar, and then points to himself. "That was all well and good, but, uh... May I?" he says in plain "English." It being the trade language according to the sailors, he figures it'd be safe enough to speak it.
<OOC> Emery says, "I think it'd be easier to assume it works, or just have Reba come upstairs in the next couple poses."

The guitarist glances to the others, who seem amused, and one chuckles. He sits down in the chair opposite Emery and says, haltingly, "Can you play? You can at least handle the thing, yes? Or you won't break it on me? Because," and he shrugs, and glances back to his amigos, who seems ready to back up their buddy in case anything goes wrong.

"Been a few weeks since I last plucked a tune, but yeah, I can play," Emery replies easily. "Trust me, pal, I'll be gentle with her. I know how to use my hands." He shrugs in return and waits for an answer, hands on his hips. "It's a small thing to grant a sailor who's been away from his instruments for so long."

The fellow hands over the instrument with no further reservation, and sits back, crossing his legs, to hear what the stranger's got. Everyone who's inside turns to pay attention, except for a wolf girl who won't stop gossiping with her friend in the opposite corner. Even the cooks pause at the window to the kitchen to listen in, since it hasn't escaped them that they've got an exotic visitor here.

Emery graciously takes the guitar and heads over a nearby stool to begin tweaking it to his specifications. He spends a few minutes tuning the instrument, plucking the strings and shaking his head a few times. "This won't do," he mutters more than once. And then, finally, he gets it to his satisfaction. He takes a few breaths, getting back into the mood, remembering his own navy back home, how proud they were of their ships. "Dedicated to my old ship, and the ones who came before her," he says, perhaps too quietly for the others. And then he begins. It's a mid-paced song, with a very heavy emphasis on strumming the strings. He focuses completely on the task at hand, losing himself as he begins to sing, proud and sure.

"Once again with the tide, she slips her lines, turns her head and comes away, where she lay so still there at Privateer's Wharf, now she quickly gathers way! She'll range far south from the harbor mouth, and rejoice with every wave... but who'll know the Bluenose in the sun? See her bow rise free of Mother Sea in a sun-burst cloud of spray that stings the cheek while the rigging will speak of sea miles gone away! She is always best under full press, hard over as she'll lay... but who will know the Bluenose in the sun?"
The instrument turns out to be admirably suited to the strum-heavy, aggressive play of the song, and the large ferret with the collar sits up and laughs deeply in back of the music, putting his hands together soundlessly, while pretty much everyone else is silent. After a while, one of the lutists joins in, and then on the chorus the kid with the woodblock finds a rhythm and starts hammering away. Emery has the inn in his clutches with his powerful performance. A feminine voice--Reba's voice--wafts up the stairs, distantly enough it's easy to miss: "That proud, fast Queen of the Grand Banks Fleet, portrayed on every dime...knew hard work in her time...hard work in every line..." And all through it, the adolescent wolf girl with her ferret friend keeps yammering on in Ebarryan, sipping a cola.

Emery pauses for the tiniest interlude when he catches a second voice accompanying his own, going into a musical interlude to let her finish the stanza. But then it's back to the song. "... Now her namesake daughter remains to show what she has been... what every school boy remembers and will not come again! To think she's the last of the Grand Bank schooners that fed so many men, and who will know the Bluenose in the sun? So does she not take wing like a living thing, child of the moving tide? See her pass with grace on the water's face with clean and quiet pride! Our own tall ship of great renown still lifts unto the sky... and who will know the Bluenose in the sun? Who will know the Bluenose in the sun, know the Bluenose in the sun, know the Bluenose in the sun..." The formerly loud and impressive song fades away into silence like the legendary ship, as Emery bows over the guitar, eyes shut tight.

The chords fade out hauntingly enough, but the crowd doesn't pause for silence, as they start hooting and cheering in their local fashion even before the music is over. Emery's song segues into an improvised piece from someone on a chair past the next table, and there's still fists banging on the tables for another ten seconds yet. Reba makes her way over to Emery and sits down beside him, making sure to leave plenty of space in case he wants to keep playing. A lot of eyes follow her, and there are more than a few cat calls. Her green tunic and blue split skirt are looking terrible, but she herself is ravishing at the moment, clean and soft, with crests in her fur and streaks of orchid through the violet. The onwer of the guitar nods and chortles a couple times, and asks, "Where did you learn that kind of music?"

Emery looks up with a relieved sigh at the cheering audience. That was even more refreshing than the bath. He turns to Reba with a cheerful smile, captivated as much by her mysterious knowledge of songs he's never shared as by her stunning appearance. But then the ferret speaks again, and he offers the instrument back. "Self-taught, mostly," he answers. "You get a looot of time to do nothing on the average voyage. When you got a lonely night and only this to entertain you, you get pretty creative."

Somehow, just the tone that Emery strikes encourages the musicians and their friends to roar gently in coy laughter. None of them really fully seem to follow what Emery says word for word, but they understand the sentiment. The large ferret holds out his hand in an ambivalent guesture--you got more to play, or shall I have my guitar back? There's still some plunking and strumming in some Mixolydian key going on, and it's something of a jam session. A little tan-furred ferret girl gets up to dance, and the other ferret girl chatting with the wolf points at her and croons something in Ebarryan. The crowd kind of seems to have forgotten Emery, although there are still a few eyes turned his way. "You're good at that!" Reba compliments him. She seems to be totally at home here now, her earlier panic forgotten.

"Good? Nah. Just dedicated," Emery replies modestly. He notices that several people are still looking at him, rather expectantly at that. And now that the band seems ready to get something a bit more fast paced, he glances knowingly to the guitar owner and tunes it up again. He holds up a hand to get the attention of the band, if that's possible in the discordant goings-on. "I think I got something we can all play," he announces, and starts up anew. "I think every sailor wants this ending." The new song is a bit faster paced, higher in pitch, and in Emery's opinion, well suited to the little dancer they have. He encourages someone else to pick up the main rhythm as he glances to Reba, to see if she'd somehow pick up on the song. "On Hanik so fair a lady she lived there, a lady of great beauty and great might. And unto this lady fair I became a servant there, and in me she took a great delight! Now this lady had a son of wealth and beauty born, and he became a sailor on the sea, and he courted a fair maid, till he had her heart betrayed, and then he was bound for the sea..."

It's no easy task getting the room to quiet down, and it takes a few tries and a few false stops, as there's someone cheering on the slim dancer who doesn't want the music to stop. But Emery's got some credit here now, and the large ferret thumps his hands together, and the musicians turn their eyes Emery's way and make room for his music. There's a new flavor of energy running through the room, now. The cooks and servers go back to their work with vim, still able to hear easily enough. The dancer has a little trouble picking up the tempo and first, but she gets it. Her acquaintance in the corner has finally stopped gossiping, in favor of watching her with disapproval, no doubt saving up for future chats. Reba looks a little confused, unsure what Emery wants from her. She glances to each side uneasily, but, shrugging, harmonizes a third above on: "Oh, no, no, says he--such things can never be, for as long as I'm a sailor on the sea...the ship that I command will never reach dry land, on the day that I prove false, love, to thee." She shakes her upper body, loosening up, and starts to belly dance , scooting forward on her chair but without even standing up. A few males notice and watch, but most are watching the other dancer or watching Emery, some of them clapping their hands. One of the lutists attempts to play rhythm, but the instrument just isn't suited for it. Too bad there's not another guitar here. Maybe tonight there will be.

Emery only gives Reba a nod as she picks up the song, just like he thought she would. This, to him, is more incredible than even his physical travel through the dimensions, but it's a welcome magic here. Emery figures that Reba knows the rest of this ditty, and decides to break into a short duet, with the dancer in front providing an illustration of the beat. "... She cut off her yellow hair that hung down her back so fair, for fear that anybody would know. Then in a sailor's dress, that very night she went, and straight to the captain did she go. She being neat and trim, complete in every limb, and the clothes fitted tightly to her knee! While the crew unto her gaze, the captain to her says, 'Young man, were you ever on the sea?'" And from there he decides to let Reba take the rest, while he focuses on his music, shutting his eyes, but opening his ears.

Reba becomes more animated by the second. Delighted to be part of the focus of attention, and even more delighted to be pleasing Emery, she scoots her chair over closer to Emery and leans back, letting the wispy strands of her scruff brush against Emery's neck. She joins in, belting out the words with excellent, brisk phrasing, and smiles. A moment later she's even so bold as to rest her head against Emery's, hoping she won't spoil his playing. It's an adorable duet, and evokes whistles and enthusiastic 'Ole!'s from some of the crowd. The other musicians get the feel of the piece and add their own ethnic style to it. The dancer spins around, closing her eyes, and doesn't bother to fix a strap that slips down her torso. "Oh, no, no, says she, I was never on the sea," sings Reba happily, "but ship me as a young sailor bold...for I now do choose to go where the stormy winds do blow...to purchase some silver and some gold!" The large ferret has by now retreated to his chair by the wall, where he has a back-up instrument: a flute. For someone with such large fingers he handles it surprisingly well.

[Viridis]

-Session break-

Reba becomes more animated by the second. Delighted to be part of the focus of attention, and even more delighted to be pleasing Emery, she scoots her chair over closer to Emery and leans back, letting the wispy strands of her scruff brush against Emery's neck. She joins in, belting out the words with excellent, brisk phrasing, and smiles. A moment later she's even so bold as to rest her head against Emery's, hoping she won't spoil his playing. It's an adorable duet, and evokes whistles and enthusiastic 'Ole!'s from some of the crowd. The other musicians get the feel of the piece and add their own ethnic style to it. The dancer spins around, closing her eyes, and doesn't bother to fix a strap that slips down her torso. "Oh, no, no, says she, I was never on the sea," sings Reba happily, "but ship me as a young sailor bold...for I now do choose to go where the stormy winds do blow...to purchase some silver and some gold!" The large ferret has by now retreated to his chair by the wall, where he has a back-up instrument: a flute. For someone with such large fingers he handles it surprisingly well.

Emery is only delighted to be doing something worthwhile after hanging around so long on the periphery. Here, at least, at last, is something that his own skills can contribute to, the festive atmosphere making him feel better than he has in ages.. He barely even notices the rest of the crowd's adoring cheers, only playing his heart out for their benefit. Upon feeling Reba lean up against him, it only inspires him to further heights of playing passion. Resting against her in turn, he twists his head just slightly and looks at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling as he takes up the next verse. "It happened one day, in the cabin where he lay, and the tears from his eyes they did flow. He said 'You're like a lover of mine, that I think on many's the time, when I left her on the shore for to mourn!'" When the flute adds its full voice to the background music, he gets the feeling he could do this all day. It'd be quite the sight if they could get most of the inn up on their feet.

Up on their feet isn't the objective. Some around these parts prefer to lean back. There's energy in sitting, if you do it right, and it's energizing to be around people on the same frequency. The lutists and their friends are sitting strong, the diners nearby are watching and clapping, even the teenagers seem to be enjoying it. The servers are working at a good clip. In her same fulsome voice, once again Reba sings that sweet objection: "Oh, no no, says she--such things can never be, for as long as I'm a sailor on the sea...the ship that I command will never reach dry land, on the day that I prove false, love, unto thee." She's smiling widely, apparently amused by something. As the flute bridges one verse to the next, Reba's stomach growls loudly again...in perfect time.

Emery, getting to the end of the song, closes his eyes as he gets comfortable against the violaceous raccoon. "His own words he knew she spoke beneath the crew, so into her arms he flew like a dove! Saying 'Do not shed a tear, you have followed me my dear, and it's married, it's married we will be!'" He nudges Reba as he looks her in the eye, preparing to sing the final verse in harmony with her. His eyes have that merry glint that can only come from a community act like this. Reba's enthusiastic cooperation has cheered him more than he'd publicly admit. The only time he'd ever be able to do something this spontaneous is with a close circle of friends on shore leave, and apparently Reba's just been added to that small group.

Reba has done this kind of thing quite a lot, really. You wouldn't have known it from her initial reaction to this establishment, but the bath, if nothing else, has changed her mood. Her soft cranial fur rubs Emery kindly, she sits forward, and when he turns to glint at her with a nudge, she looks into that disciplined, military face and thinks: What's going on here? Her smile doesn't crack. "They sent for a clerk, they sent for a mate," she sings in a mezzo-soprano register. "They sent for a clergyman likewise! Now this couple they are wed, and together they do bed...and now they're living happy in your eyes," she finishes. "I mean the sea!" She laughs into the final refrain: "And now they're living happy on the sea." There is thumping and hooting--no traditional applause, as it seems that's not the custom here. The large ferret sets down his flute and gives a good, deep laugh. "You don't play that like we play it," he says, "but you do yes play it, all right!" There's some rousing agreement, there!

Emery's reaction to Reba's gaffe is subdued: an amused raise of his eyebrows, nothing more, as he strokes the guitar lovingly. He feels connected to home now. No otherworld amnesia for him, or whatever it was Jin said about forgetting himself. "It was my pleasure, sir. Your instrument is well crafted to hold such sound," he says as he graciously offers back the guitar. "And let me tell you," he says, turning back to their audience. "I've never had such an appreciative crowd before. I and my lovely assistant," he says with a cheeky grin in Reba's direction, "thank you. Songs are at their best when they're being enjoyed by others."

The bartender thanks you with a little bow. Thanks to the medallion Reba's got, there's now no problem understanding him: "You're a fresh wave I'm glad to have. What's your name, hm? Will you be back?" The others seem to want to know, too. One stoat eagerly asks Emery where he comes from. The large ferret steps over to take his guitar back, if Emery's done with it. Reba sits there quietly and basks in the cheer. Meanwhile, the dancing girl is cuddling some guy and her gossipping acquaintance is storming over to confront her.

Emery's mouth goes slack, having at first been preparing an answer to the questions, but then halting just before he could squeeze the words out. He had felt connected to these people, for just a moment, and knowing he'd probably never come back struck a bit of a chord in him. "Emery," he says with confidence. "My name is Emery Wickliff. As for when I'll be back, ah..." He looks down to the ground and shrugs genially. "Never know in my line of work," he answers with some hesitation. "It's a fair port. But the sea's not always so kind to grant that." Hopefully that was nautical and cryptic enough they'd let the matter lie.

The owner of the guitar graciously reclaims his instrument. "Are you off today?" he asks. "Which ship is yours? We have music here, or in the Circle of the Moon, every night." He points through a window off down some street. One of the lutists stands. "Almeto Comarez," he introduces, stepping forward to shake hands if Emery accepts. "You are not an albino, are you? I would love to know where you come from, you and your assistant." Reba shifts her chair to face the group of musicians. "We're not from the same place," she answers. "Both from far away."

Another stranger entered the building, her ears having caught a slight sound of the guitar. Such a strange instruments guitars were; she had only come across them in holographic records and what not. These lesser civilizations were intriguing in their simplicity, really, but she didn't have a chance to explore them as most of the time she spend was on a ship in space. A sleek, stormy grey ferret she was, hair black and short, unusual for a female, and wrapped in a...black robe...armed, yes, with a flyssa sheathed in a baldric but nothing else, yet attractive, very attractive to the patrons as she walked by. At the same time, she beheld something different. Her eyes aquacyan like a certain bat's. Her rounded ears perked tothe conversation, but her first order of business was getting a drink.

Emery nods in assent with Reba, taking Almeto's hand in his and giving it a firm shake, his grasp quite strong. It's the hand he'd normally use for holding his control module. "I'm not an actual albino. Just really lucky or unlucky enough to be born this way," he adds. "Our ship is the... Picadillo." He doesn't know why they didn't call it something cool like Wingding, or Procyon, but to each his own. "Reba and I were not born in the same lands. Just had the fortune of ending up on the same boat. Ship." His train of thought is mildly broken by the arrival of the new stranger, dressed in black. Why was it complete, intimidating blackness was supposed to not catch the eye? In any case, he just sees the ferret as an eccentric, and turns back to the conversation at hand.

Reba gets up, nods peacefully to the musician with a smile, and heads over toward the bar, to investigate the newcomer as well as the possibilities of getting something to east or drink, but the little wolf kid on the woodblock grabs her hand and starts saying nice adorable things to her, and she lets herself get sidetracked. The bartender looks suspciously at the black-robed, unusually armed ferret woman. "Hi," he says in the trade language. "Are you in a recent ship, too? Would you like something to whet your thirst?" Almeto gives up trying to find out Emery's land of origin--he goes to confer with his compadres. The large ferret sits back and yawns. "I hope you find our port fair again," he says. "I would not mind retiring to a place where all the girls are purple from head to toe and can sing so sweetly."

The ferret wrinkled her nose as she peered at the tender. "A simple tea, black, if you please," she said softly. "and on ship I dwell, yes." She went silent after that and didn't say any more than was needed. Simply, she waited to see if anyone took an unusual interest in her for being so direct.

Emery stumbles over the large ferret's remark, coughing awkwardly for a moment. "Uhh... sure! Who wouldn't?" he agrees, agreeably spreading his paws, and sparing a glance in Reba's direction. He knows he prefers the snowy-white of his people as a matter of habit and princple, but on new best buddy Reba, purple fits perfectly. But what would the children look like? "Your port is fair enough to have drawn me today. God willing, I'll be hooked again soon." He glances downward again, looking oddly introspective for how cheerful he was scant minutes before. "Tell me about you," he says abruptly to the large ferret. The stormy furred ferret isn't spared another glance. He's not very good at spotting unique creatures. With all the crazy stuff that's been happening, variety is the norm, and only the dull and uninteresting would stand out for him.

Reba isn't listening too carefully, although she does glance over with enough interest to make it clear she knows she's being wooed. She twitches her whiskers, stands up, and heads over to the bar. "One copper for a black tea," says the honest-looking, agouti-furred bartender. He gives the order to a cook. There are in fact a few eyes staring the stormy girl's way, including the gossipy wolf adolescent and her friend, a few of the musicians' crowd, and the nearest couple at a table. And Reba. She raises her brows...and meanwhile, the large ferret gives his head a shake, but not in refusal. "My name is Pedro Tanis Olgadero, and I come from the next island over." He jerks his head, apparently always knowing where his homeland is, even indoors. "I like making merry, but my profession is building. I was the foreman who built the shop that way--" He jerks his head again. "--and I helped to build this place, too."

Jin ears turned back even though she expressed her thanks for the tea and payed the copper necessary. "Females are not objects, Almeto Comarez," she said, holding the tea strongly in her paws. She heard his name when she entered, and was sharp enough to remember it for a few minutes, though it was lightly she would put the name out of her mind after today. "In fact, do you not see she bears upon her finger a ring?" ..very sharp...

The ferret's ears turned back even though she expressed her thanks for the tea and payed the copper necessary. "Females are not objects, Almeto Comarez," she said, holding the tea strongly in her paws. She heard his name when she entered, and was sharp enough to remember it for a few minutes, though it was lightly she would put the name out of her mind after today. "In fact, do you not see she bears upon her finger a ring?" ..very sharp...

A builder, eh? He would've guessed. "I... fight," he replies evenly. "And trade when the need takes me and a ship will have me. Who doesn't like making merry?" Pedro can't think of an answer, but can't anyway because of the ferret's sudden announcement. Emery only now turns towards her, noticing plenty of people are just... looking at her. The heck is everyone staring at? "Not sure," Pedro answers. Apparently that was said out loud. "No offense meant, miss," Pedro goes on, looking rather affronted at this one's blunt interjection. "The ring was, in fact, missed." It being a different style than the ones his people uses, he can only assumed that it was important enough now to note. Emery remains silent during the exchange. Only thing he can think is 'how rude.' Out of work sailors can't even appreciate the scenery? That *must* have been a sign of the Apocalypse.

Reba stops short and gawks at the robed female. She clenches her right hand and tucks the finger with the ring inside, and words fail her for the moment. No surprise Pedro didn't notice the purple ring--it blends in all too well, as Reba's fur is only slightly closer to the blue end of the spectrum. The dining couple turn away from the ferret and back to each other. The wolf girl keeps staring, and while another one or two of the patrons do as well, Pedro Tanis Olgadero is polite enough to avert his eyes from both foreign females. "Whom do you fight?" he asks Emery evenly.
ied *me* just three days ago!"

The ferret looks back to her black tea and takes a sip. "Your apology is sufficient," she said, eyeing others who were looking at her and the other strangers. "What is wrong with you creatures; do you not host foreigners all the time? No answer? I thought not." Headstrong female at that...sipping her black tea, though Emery did catch her eye and to him she winked.

Emery only blinks in reply to the ferret's sudden turn of attention to him, his expression betraying nothing. Having been immersed in a sterile, military environment for several years, he's learned not to get flustered by that kind of thing. Weren't ferrets native to this place? She's no 'foreigner.' He turns back to Pedro nonetheless. "Whoever is attacking what I'm hired to protect," he replies in a bit of a monotone. Being a soldier made it easy to impersonate a part-time mercenary. "That's one of the reasons I turned to music, I suppose. Have to find some way to keep cheerful when Death is your neighbor."

Pedro nods thoughtfully, or perhaps just solemnly. "Then you will fight for any man? Who gives you pay? You are a...protector." His nose twitches and his jaw is set coyly. He begins to strum his guitar, making a rich, tenor warp for a few casual drummers to enter. It's just background music, though. The bartender frowns at the ferret girl, but he stays away and keeps his mouth shut, and a server brings her black tea to her. Meanwhile, Reba bellies up to the counter. "Do you know what I haven't done in the last..." Her ears tilt as she reckons back. "...two days? EATEN! Give me food! And I will give you money in return!"

Emery turns away as Pedro begins to set up another bit of lounge music. "I wish," he answers Pedro, in a voice too low to be heard. Protector of what? All this gnawing, gaping ignorance about how the final assault on the portal went won't leave him. He shakes himself, silent and still even through Reba's blaring announcement. The bartender leans back from the outburst and signals for a quick dish of salted fish seasoned with many herbs to be brought out. "Here! Quick and tasty, just keep your teeth in your mouth. Eight coppers, then." Emery stands up to go and sit next to Reba. "They *had* food on the ship," he comments quietly.

Reba looks nice and appetized. She licks her lips and stands back, but protests. "Wait-eight coppers? The bath was only five, wasn't it? What kind of fancy fish is this supposed t--" The smell of it catches her nostrils, then, and she giggles and cooes, sinking back into a chair. "Oh, all right," she murmurs, and a cook laughs. "Yes," she says, turning to Emery, "but I have a good reason for not eating that. I forgot." She grins and rubs her empty tummy.

Emery has fortunately already ate. But the fish itself smells practically irresistible. All tangy and pungent in the nose. "At least it smells real," he says reflectively. "Much better than the stuff they dispensed on my old ship." The others in the inn seem to have forgotten about the rude stranger and the once lively music and have settled into a buzz of overall conversation, perfect to mask questions otherwise inappropriate to ask in.

Pedro has scooted back a fair distance, and is strumming dreamily, but he's still watching Reba and Emery. Reba orders wine to go with the fish. She digs out a silver coin for the meal, but there's some time to wait yet. She's a little dreamy, herself, now, and her appearance is dynamite. "Did you have to eat imaginary food on your ship?" she asks, putting her elbows on the table.

"Might as well have been in some cases," Emery says with a shrug. The fish, being the only order up at the moment, is heard to be frying in some back room. "Lots of ships just went the cheap way and decided not to fix good food for the grunts. It was all nutritional value and no style." He shudders. "Fortunately the budget got better as my tour of duty went along. Sometimes we could even tell if it was cooked or not," he says with a roll of his eyes. He's exaggerating heavily, but man. Of all the things he didn't like about the Systems Corps, it was the way they handled supply trains.

Reba's eyes are full of wonder and fascination. It may be the anticipation talking. That and the bath. And the performance high. She glances at Pedro Olgadero for a moment and smiles at Emery. "You're talking about spaceships, right? So...wow. It must have been even harder to survive on those than on normal ships! I mean, there aren't any fish in space, right? So they, like, had to invent new kinds of fish?"

Emery can't help but smile at the way Reba phrases her question. "In a sense, yeah," he answers. "Processed, fried, injected with minerals, re-fried, de-processed, flash frozen, and then served up to hungry guys like me. The poor suckers on the listening posts? They had substitution *everything.* Just wasn't feasible to supply that many soldiers with home-grown goods. Except the officers. They even had their personal cooking staff seperate from the guys in the mess. As for fish, well... whatever *they* called fish doesn't hold a candle to what you get fresh down here." He nods appreciatively at the kitchens. "Shore leave, when we could get back to the surface? Heck, we spent half our time just eating actual meals again."

Reba breathes in a very deep, appreciative nasal breath. She exhales and settles like a puddle in her chair. Oddly, though, Emery's description of what they do to fish in space makes her even hungrier. "Mmmm, injected with minerals? That sounds pretty good." A hint of drool glint at the corner of Reba's mouth, but her tongue gets it. "What's a listening post? Heh..." She leans back and enjoys the music, which is evolving and getting a little louder. "I've lived near the ocean and nowhere near the ocean," she says. "Near the ocean always had better fish. It's embarrassing to admit because I grew up in a place proud of its freshwater fish."

Emery can see the fish is nearly here, and should come about in the next pose or so. "Well, you might find it novel, but I found it dee-skusting," he emphasizes. "A listening post is where people who hate you send you for crimes done in a past life," he explains. "And I gotta say the ocean is quite a charmer. For one thing, when you swim in it, it doesn't make your blood boil or tear your insides out. Then the thing with the eyeballs is just gross."

Reba's eyeballs grow wide and bug a little at this seemingly spontaneous description of ickiness. "I don't get it," she begins, but then it's there! Her fish! It smells and looks great, and what's more, there's some boiled green stalky vegetables with it, and a pat of butter, and even some braised onion. So that's where her eight coppers are going! She pays a little bit more for the wine, which is red and dark and sultry. Yes it is. "Muchas gracias," says Reba, and then she moves the meal to the center of the table where Emery can share.

Emery might explain the horrors of trying to dog paddle through space later, but for now the fish is what's on his mind. The previous dish was good, but this one blows it out of the water. When Reba offers to share, Emery at first is surprised and a little reluctant, but nonetheless he calmly picks up a fork, jabs it into the fish, and holds his morsel up, waiting for the raccoon to take the first bite. He almost doesn't trust that it can taste as good as it looks.

Reba ceremoniously forks off her own bite--she seems familiar with forks--and holds it up ceremoniously to match Emery. Her face is alight with joy. With a coy twist she pops her piece into her mouth, and chews, and savors it. Then, she pours wine. Two glasses. "Do you drink?" she asks amicably, munching on a segment of onion.

"Only on special occasions," the fox answers as he brings his bite to his lips. But no sooner does it touch his tongue, the bartender's back. "Hey!" he blurts out. "What's all this? I can't give out free meals for two! Give me one good reason I don't charge an extra two coppers!" Emery mulls this over, mouth agape with the fish pressed against his tongue. "Ahhh..." He sits back and says, very simply, "It's our honeymoon." He stares at the bartender, who stares back. "Who'da thought," Emery adds with a shrug. "Oh. Oh, I see," says the bartender. "Well, carry on then." Emery takes his time chewing after that. The things he'll do to get free food.

Reba looks utterly confused. She fingers her ring awkwardly, and thrums her fingers on the table. Pedro Tanis Olgadero has noted the conversation, and has stopped playing his guitar. Reba perks her ears and frowns. "What the hell?" she asks.

"Yeah, I didn't think that would actually work," Emery says, rather oblivious as he picks up the wine. He then notices Reba's expression, and the ring. He too only just now noticed it, and the expression on his face is one of definite shock. "Oh," he blurts out, and points at it with his fork. "Wait... does... that actually mean you *are*...?"

Reba hides her hands under the table. She picks up one of the stalky veggies in her other hand. "No...no, I'm not engaged to Jin. Not yet. He gave me this ring, and it's so pretty..." She brings it up again to show it off. "It's made of gold. That's what he told me. Purple gold." She sticks out her tongue, which is also purple. "What was I gonna do?" Reba eats the vegetable slowly, and wipes her chin. "He proposed to me. More or less, anyhow. He wants to marry me, he made it clear. And I don't know." The raccoon is speaking seriously now, in a low voice. "I told him he's the sort of guy it takes a lifetime to court."

Purple gold, of course. This actually comes as a bit of a surprise to the fox. He knew they were kinda close, and who knew what they did before they met him, but somehow, he had never considered this. So now he gets to play relations counselor to an interdimensional Tisi-flop and a violaceous raccoon. Wonderful. This just doesn't seem like the kind of adventure people get married on! He sets down his silverware and takes a deep breath. "Well, I, um..." he begins, then clears his throat to gather his thoughts. "He's... really something. But... pardon me for looking from the outside in, but... why? If he's as old as he says he is... I dunno. I'm not good at this, I'm really not. But it just doesn't seem... erm... practical." He fiddles with his glass of wine. "It is a very pretty ring, though."

Reba listens with perplexity, then perspicacity, and then laughter! She munches on crunchy spiced fish, making sounds of pleasure. Her stomach growls, perhaps for the last time for a while. "I know," she says, waving her fork. "The guy's almost four and a half times my age. I must be crazy, huh?" She grins. "But come on, Emery. You heard him today. He's immortal! He's only old on the inside. If you're looking from the outside in, what's the problem?" She glances furtively at the bartender. "Why does he care who eats this meal, anyhow? I paid for the thing. If I want to share it with a hundred foxes, why shouldn't I be able?"

[Viridis]

Emery shakes his head at the bartender. "The guy can't go soft with all this competition. He has to run a tight ship if he wants to stay afloat." He blinks a few times and flicks his ears. "Man, that was a bad one..." he reflects, and goes back to the matter at hand. Super powerful, seemingly godly aliens were not on his list of things to think positively about. "Nobody's *immortal,* Reba," he says quietly. "We all die some time. Unless he has some magic spell to keep you alive like him," he says in a somewhat condescending voice. "If he really is planning on living for millions of years, being married to you would, eventually, be a drop in the bucket, as far as I'm concerned."

Reba is puzzled by Emery's explanation. "Huh?" If it's a pun, she doesn't get it. "Way it works wherever I've lived, you pay for food and it's yours, and you can do what you want with it. I don't know if I like being watched to see how many mouths I'm feeding." She makes a lip-smacking sound. "And you lied to the bartender. Now I'm not gonna want to come back here. Way to go." Reba busies herself with eating for a while while Emery lays out his concerns. She's beginning to sate her appetite. "Emery," she says. "The guy's given up on love. Given up," she repeats, looking him in the eye. "On love. But now he's met me, and he's deeply in love with me...and I can make him try again. I can make him love again. I don't *care* if I'm just a drop in the bucket for him. I'm the *first* drop in a beautiful bucket. And if *I* get to be happy with him for all *my* life, why shouldn't I go for that?"

-Session break-

Emery suddenly slaps his hand down on the counter, and raises the other one, his finger pointed as he gets ready for a biting rebuttal, but then all the air goes out of his lungs as he waves it off and turns away. "That last question was the only one that made sense," he mutters. "Giving up on love isn't *that* big a deal where I come from," he replies quietly. "It isn't love that's kept us alive the last twenty years, it's blazing hot plasma. I just..." He runs a hand over his ears and leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I don't... I don't like people who can do what he does. Neither of us know him well. Or I don't, at least. And apparently he has some evil twin running around who can almost match him in power. What's he gonna do when we're gone? Forever's a long time to keep that kind of power in check. The only time I've ever seen anyone who can come close to matching Jin is..." He goes quiet and turns away again. The nightmares he fought were prejudicing him against the bat and those like him, and he suspects he'll only make Reba upset at this rate.

Reba isn't upset...although she may get there. "That was the *only* question I asked!" she chortles, sweepign up a pair of soft green stalks and biting off the ends. She nudges the plate in Emery's direction, encouraging him to have some. When Emery continues, Reba ooohs. "Blazing hot plasma? Keeps you alive? Woow." She looks at Emery with a new kind of puzzlement. "Is *that* why your race is all white-furred?" Reba leans in to meet Emery, and she hears him out with a sympathetic set of gestures. "You're right. It is scary to think that people exist with the kind of power Jin's got. And it's true that we don't know him well, yet. So!" She sits back and spreads her arms. "I'm trying to do something about that. Are you?" She grins. "What does it matter what he does when we're gone? I don't get it, Em. You think having a happy marriage to someone like me is gonna make things *worse* for him down the road? I just don't see it." And then his final words: "You know someone else who does magic like Jin does?" Reba asks eagerly.

Emery rolls his eyes helplessly at Reba's ignorance. "I mean hot plasma as in what you use to kill other people," he says bluntly. And as far as getting to know Jin better, he doesn't answer that. He's still unsure of the bat. "Exactly, it isn't *you* I'm worried about," he says with several low-key gesticulations. "You... look. I have an entire race of people to go back to. They're going to go on after you and me, God willing. At least I hope they will. I hope they're even alive now." He twirls his fork in Reba's vegetables and finally takes a sip of wine. "I'm a soldeier, I fight for things bigger and better than me. Jin's bigger than me. He'll go on, like my people, and I just... have to wonder what'll happen. If what we're leaving behind is better than it was before. I can appreciate you doing that with Jin, really, I can, but..."

The white fox gets a far-off look in his eyes. He's packed to the brim with stories that would set the spine shivering. "The others like him... Maybe they don't do *magic*," he clarifies, "but it's pretty darn close. And they aren't even trying to be decent. The Erebus cyborgs have mastered all kinds of enhancement and modification, and they use it to ensure that they're just *better* than everyone else. They created a whole new race... just to have slaves. They use them in brutal labor and war-making. And..." His eyes grow dark and his voice is now audibly laced with hatred, more than he's ever let show before. "The Surtr. Jin said only the most advanced of his race could destroy a sun on their own. Them? They murdered *two* of ours already. And if they find our homeworld, they'll do it again. They master subspace flow and use it to strike when and where they want, butchering us. Just because they *can.* No mercy, no explanation. No *need* for an explanation, they're so damn advanced they don't even *
*think* like us!" He reins in his raising voice before it attracts unwanted attention. He turns back to the bar and lays his head in his hands. "Jin... I dunno. In the millions of years he'll have... he could turn out just like them."

Reba seems to be enjoying herself quite a bit, despite Emery's efforts to dampen her mood. She guzzles wine through her deciduous incisors, with a hissy, playful slurp. "What are you talking about, Em?" she asks with adoring concern. "What's the problem? What could possibly have happened to your race? Are you just getting panicky because there are..." Her voice trails off, and she sits back in her chair, as Emery rambles on. Her fur grows darker, the highlights fading. "The...Surtr?" she asks. "Murder...a sun?" Her face is astonished. She's silent for a time. "What?!" she eventually utters, eyes wide.

Emery turns back to Reba. "Oh... right," he says wearily. "Never told you." He sighs, not feeeling like he wants to relate the story in such a public place. "Eat... eat your fish, and I'll tell you afterwards, it'll... take some time."

Reba doesn't want to eat anymore. She just sits there, staring. Then she looks at the ceiling. Meanwhile, the guitarist, who's been sitting not far from Emery this whole time, listening in, gets up, gives Reba a sympathetic look, and retires to go sit with his amigos. At last, Reba takes a bite of fish. "Your whole kind, your whole species...could be dead? Is that *really* how bad it is?" she asks.

Emery stares at the far wall in silence as he leans his head into one hand, elbows up on the counter. "... Yeah," he says in a whisper. "Yeah it... it's that bad." He gropes around for words. "It's why I'm... scared to go back, and scared to stay. They want all of us. Every last one. I don't wanna die, but... I don't want to be alone even more." can't think of anything else to add. He looks around and starts to stand up. "Doesn't feel right to talk here..."

Reba leans over the table and over the food and hugs Emery. Warmly. Tightly. A little squeal comes from someplace in her, hard to hear. She holds him for a few seconds, and then, when she lets go, she's breathing quickly. "Then let's get this boxed up and go out to the beach," she suggests. Out there, it's quiet. The only listener is nature. And the sky is closer when you're outdoors, and Reba feels like the sky is kind of a part of this.

Emery is silent and contemplative through the hug, and is quick in asking for a box. And they do literally get a box, since take-out isn't really something people do at an inn. But oh well. Without hesitation, he heads out the door, moving further and further down the street to get away from the lights and the people, going for a stretch of beach where there really is nobody but nature. He finds a good spot, inclined at a comfortable degree for sitting, and plops down right there. Assuming Reba is with him, he asks, "So... where do you want me to start?"

Reba follows along in silence, with a quiet spring to her movements, a little erratic. She carries the box of food under her arm, and glances at the bustle and activity longingly. Too bad, doesn't matter. They're here for three days. Reba carefully seats herself next to Emery and plants her toes in the cool sand. "Holy hell," she murmurs. "I don't know. Tell me who these Suture people are. *Two suns*? Destroyed?" Her ears stand up fully in amazement.

Emery decides to lie down, dropping his back into the comforting pillow of earth beneath him. "I can't tell you much," he says, staring up at the afternoon sky. It's close to evening. "We don't know a whole lot. Nobody does. Not even the Venetii or the Erebus, and they're among the oldest. The Surtr might have come from some distant corner of the galaxy we haven't seen yet. Or maybe they're from a different galaxy entirely. A few of the death cults I've heard of say they're... almost like you and Jin. You know, dimension hoppers. But they aren't... they aren't like *us.*" He gestures with his hand at the space between he and Reba. "Like normal, living creatures. I've never seen one up close, just the pictures Intelligence gives us. If you can think of a six legged... hell, I don't know. Scorpion... lobster type things! In metal suits. They never come out of their ships. They never touch down on a planet. They never talk to us. Never try and explain who or what they are. They just... kill." He decides to start with their first contact. "It all started a couple years after we dug up something on an Argus planet. Something big and old. Dark science. Really, really scary stuff. But it jumped our tech forward a few decades, so everyone was happy with it. It was some kind of weapon, don't know the details. Built by an older race, older than even the Erebus. They wanted it, by the way, and so did a few of the Venetii clans. They attacked us in force, we fought back." He grins. "My first engagement was with an Erebus Gearhead fighter. The Surtr came quietly at first. One of our outposts, a mini-city in space, went totally dark. A battle was being fought there, so we thought we lost it. But the Venetii lost too. Everyone, everything, gone. Three days after that came... Anchor 518," he says, in a reverential whisper.

Reba stares into the cerulean sky and watches it darken. She puts out her elbows and tucks her hands behind her head. She doesn't look at Emery, but listens closely. "Scorpion nasties," she murmurs. "What do they want? What do they love?" She sings gently, slowly, a snippet from 'Electric Blues': "Tell me what's it that moooooves you? ... Tell me what's it that grooves you?" Then, after a long pause, she turns slightly toward the fox. "When did they show up?" she asks. She listens attentively to his answer. "How long ago was that?" she wants to know. "And what's...what's anchor 518?" She's beginning to get chills.

"Anchor 518 happened fifteen years ago," Emery goes on. "It was a major military outpost over a harsh planet used for training and command posts and the like. Only had about a hundred million of us on it. A survivor from the outpost that went dark flew in on the third day. The poor guy was, by all accounts, insane with fear. He kept babbling about pitch black ships with horns and spikes that came out of nowhere and killed everything. Venetii, us, the few Erebus in the area. It *was* the Surtr. Back then, we thought he had just cracked under battle stress. But barely two days after he came back, the Surtr followed him. 518... didn't stand a chance. Back then, it was another outpost gone. Figured the Erebus had snuck in a planet killer. We got absolutely no information about the battle. We sent back a task force to reclaim the system." He shudders. "They found Anchor 518... and the planet it was guarding... burned to a crisp."
Reba is enthralled. "*Only* a hundred million?" she sputters. "*Only* that? You mean...a hundred million people...were all killed, at once?! Just like that?" She's distraught, and her fur is getting spiny. "Wow...that's like...that's like all of Eoma just...sinking."

Emery nods slowly. "It got worse from there. The Surtr sent a few scout ships. Even one of their cruisers could be a match for one of our destroyers, though. We almost panicked, but it wasn't a big deal, at first. 518 was isolated. Six months of skirmishes with them and they were gone. But... they came back. They always come back." He sighs. "That's when things went downhill. Nine months after Anchor 518, the Surtr struck full force. No mercy. No rhyme or reason. They just... invaded. Completely random points across our space. We panicked. They were so advanced, and so inconsisten. Sometimes they'd attack a fleet, sometimes not. Sometimes just bombard a planet, sometimes not. Sometimes they just visited for a few hours. But they slowly got more aggressive. Thirteen months after Anchor, they found the Argus planet we discovered the ancient weapon on. Our technology was getting better as a result of that weapon. Maybe that's why they burned that planet too." He covers his eyes with one hand. "Three billion Argus dead. And they only needed one ship. Just one ship and its supporting fleet. They used... the Jormungandr." His voice is hushed again, this time by awe and fear. "It's a juggernaut class vessel the Surtr used against us on and off. It was the first time we saw it in action. It came, crushed the defending Argus fleet almost single-handed. Turned its attention to the planet, and... nothing lives there anymore. Nothing *can.* They smashed it so far into its own ground... nothing will grow there again in any of our lifetimes. Jormungandr disappeared for about five years after that. The Surtr stepped up their attacks after they found what we had uncovered. They'd use jump nodes we'd never be able to, nodes that shouldn't be physically possible to go through, nods that shouldn't have *existed* to attack us. Spear-headed an advance into our systems. One by one, they started claiming more systems. More planets. More lives. Delta Youssarian. Epsilon Voyager. Beta Cygni. Every battle we fought... was a loss. We might even crush a whole fleet of theirs, but... more always came back. Always. They were very spotty. We'd have a couple years respite, and then they'd come again. And again. And again. Every single time, they'd destroy something else. Searching every available entry point, trying to find the one place that'll break us. Twice more they used the Jormungandr, or ships like it. They didn't need to. They outnumbered us, outgunned us... but it's almost like killing us was secondary. They're looking for something, and we happen to be in the way, so tough luck for us. I joined up at sixteen to go help the cause during a lull. Wouldn't you know it... up until I was twenty three, things were a gas. No Surtr. Then after my twenty third birthday they came back. And that was when they started killing our suns."

Reba is awash is mystery. The sun she's watching is dying slowly, or rather just sinking beneath a line of stratus clouds as the day ages...but really, isn't everybody and every sun always in the process of dying, one way or another? She rolls over once while Emery is talking. She's still listening, though. "Doesn't make a lot of sense to me," she mumbles. "I mean...sure it does, I get the general idea. Supporting fleet...jump nodes...oh, well. You come from a world that's so alien to me...but so wonderful, I mean, it sounds horrible, but wonderful too..." The purple raccoon props herself up on one elbow. "Did you really join up because it's what your dad did?" she asks. "I mean, it must have been such a huge decision, with a war like no war before. Leapin' lizards, Emery...I thought your people were just fighting an ordinary war of some kind, like what they may be fighting hereabouts pretty soon. I had no idea it was so...catastrophic."

"I didn't have a choice," Emery murmurs. "What else was I going to do? Be a civilian and hope the planet I moved to wasn't next on their list? Nah. I was going to fight. Be all I could be," he says in a mocking tone. "Make a difference. But it's, um... yeah, it's bad," he says with a distant shrug. "A lot of us are refugees with other races. But they refuse to help. Doesn't matter, though. If the Surtr are trying to kill us, they'll go after them sooner or later. It's like... we're an experiment to them. A test to see how the first contact with this new race goes. They're willing to let go a fledgeling empire like us if it'll make them more secure. The past four years were the worst. Their juggernauts uncovered a new ability. They would flock into a system, surround the sun, use some kind of barely detectable subspace field, and... kaboom. Just like that. We have no idea what else happens to make it work. We just... don't know anything, except to try and fight back."

Reba's now full of thoughts, ideas, questions, avenues for exploration. She reaches out her arm automatically, wanting to sit on this slope, watching the sun go down, with a warm-blooded friend sharing his pulse with hers. It's amazing to think of it...fellow mammals, in space. The words on her lips are whispered: "Fledgling empire." What a notion. Time goes by. Eventually, Reba decides what to say. "Now...against all the odds...you joined up to fight, because you knew you couldn't run...even if you went to the farthest reaches of the known cosmos, joined up with robots and became their slaves, you still couldn't really run..." Her voice falls to a whisper again. "And now, against all the odds...you're safe." She tries to grab his eyes with her own, large and violet. "You're safe, Emery. You found a way. By accident, you found a way."

Emery turns back to Reba as she gets the first meaningful words in for some time, his own eyes bright and green, shining with quiet graciousness, and sadness. It's a dry, weighty kind of sadness that he just has to carry for now. "Found a way... to what, though?" he asks in an equally low voice. "I'm not supposed to be here. My place is... back with the others. What you and Jin are doing doesn't involve me. And what if... what if the Surtr somehow exist here, too? Find me? I can't be responsible for that. I don't want to be safe, Reba. Safe means, if my last mission failed... that I'll just be alone. I can't be like Jin. I won't be the last one."

Reba smiles and snakes her arm under Emery's back. She wants to hold him and make him feel safe, so that he can judge with more experience how bad it really is. "That's an interesting point," she concedes. "You don't feel kinship with me, or with anyone here that you've met...yet. You feel alone, like the last one. Two...three thoughts come to mind." Reba turns slowly and lets her other arm attack Emery gently from above...now, if he'll let her, she has one arm under his body and one draped over his chest. Her own face is half in a moist and fragrant stand of yellow grass, but she doesn't seem to mind. "One--that you might miss your family, your people, everyone you ever knew, for quite a while, and never forget them...but you might come to feel at home here, or elsewhere...just as I might come to feel home here on Salmaganda, if I were shipwrecked here forever," she says softly. "Two. Jin is a powerful creature beyond anything I've ever heard of...except possibly for your Surtr. The two greatest forces of which I've ever heard, barring mythology...and it seems to me that perhaps they ought to be brought together. If Jin died I would miss him terribly...I would weep, Emery. But maybe...that's the risk we should take. For he might...he might just...he might just win. Three." Reba's eyes are tearing up, to her apparent surprise. "Here you are, safe in another dimension. If I can send you back, or teach you to go back on your own, what would you do? Fight? Rejoin your company and fight and die? No. You would be best off trying to bring as many people back, or away, as possible. If you can come here from there, Emery, and go back again, then surely there's some way for everyone else to follow. Evacuate...evacuate an entire universe. What an idea." She's saying her thoughts out loud now...probably it's the wine.

Emery has to say he finds the idea of Jin wiping out the Surtr the most appealing. After committing such xenocide, they would deserve nothing less. He'd enjoy hearing them scream. Reba's touch is suprisingly warm. The kind he hasn't felt since he joined the Corps. Hearing her trying to be optimistic about this necessitates him reaching up to hold her hand in his, admiring the feel and look of it. He hasn't done that in years, either. "I think you're a bit tipsy," he replies with a smile. "It's a good idea, but there's no way... no way my people would just run like that. And I could never be apart from them. I'd get restless here. That's just me. Jin killing all of them is well and good, though." What's to be expected? He turns to look Reba in the eye. "I'm sorry. But... it's in my training. My blood. I'll never be able to settle down without knowing they're safe first. If there is no way back... I'll have to exhaust myself looking before I accept that." He holds her hand and draws it up to his snout where he kisses it, and draws it across his cheek, almost mesmerized. Maybe, just perhaps... he's starting to feel safe. Not just "I'm not going to die tonight" but well and truly out of harm's way. For now, at least.

It's so enchanting...all one has to do is care, reach out...and you find your hand held, and everything seems so minute, so beautifully close...Reba holds the fox's hand firmly. She leans against the sloped ground at an angle with plenty of potential for slippage, for sliding or rolling away if it's wanted, but she's holding herself in place with the strength of her muscles...and she likes that. "Your people wouldn't run?" she asks. "Even if it means dying? You made it sound like there's prcious little hope in this war. Like, even if the Surtr don't have the power to wipe you all out now, if you're very lucky and organized, they'll have what they need soon. Emery." She leans over and puts her head against him. It's more tender than when they were singing their duet. "Is home that great and glorious that it's worth dying for? I love remembering my own home...and I love to visit, but...it's just a piece of me. Surely *some* of your people would want to flee if they could. I'd guess it's more than you imagine."

[Viridis]

Emery suddenly slaps his hand down on the counter, and raises the other one, his finger pointed as he gets ready for a biting rebuttal, but then all the air goes out of his lungs as he waves it off and turns away. "That last question was the only one that made sense," he mutters. "Giving up on love isn't *that* big a deal where I come from," he replies quietly. "It isn't love that's kept us alive the last twenty years, it's blazing hot plasma. I just..." He runs a hand over his ears and leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I don't... I don't like people who can do what he does. Neither of us know him well. Or I don't, at least. And apparently he has some evil twin running around who can almost match him in power. What's he gonna do when we're gone? Forever's a long time to keep that kind of power in check. The only time I've ever seen anyone who can come close to matching Jin is..." He goes quiet and turns away again. The nightmares he fought were prejudicing him against the bat and those like him, and he suspects he'll only make Reba upset at this rate.

Reba isn't upset...although she may get there. "That was the *only* question I asked!" she chortles, sweepign up a pair of soft green stalks and biting off the ends. She nudges the plate in Emery's direction, encouraging him to have some. When Emery continues, Reba ooohs. "Blazing hot plasma? Keeps you alive? Woow." She looks at Emery with a new kind of puzzlement. "Is *that* why your race is all white-furred?" Reba leans in to meet Emery, and she hears him out with a sympathetic set of gestures. "You're right. It is scary to think that people exist with the kind of power Jin's got. And it's true that we don't know him well, yet. So!" She sits back and spreads her arms. "I'm trying to do something about that. Are you?" She grins. "What does it matter what he does when we're gone? I don't get it, Em. You think having a happy marriage to someone like me is gonna make things *worse* for him down the road? I just don't see it." And then his final words: "You know someone else who does magic like Jin does?" Reba asks eagerly.

Emery rolls his eyes helplessly at Reba's ignorance. "I mean hot plasma as in what you use to kill other people," he says bluntly. And as far as getting to know Jin better, he doesn't answer that. He's still unsure of the bat. "Exactly, it isn't *you* I'm worried about," he says with several low-key gesticulations. "You... look. I have an entire race of people to go back to. They're going to go on after you and me, God willing. At least I hope they will. I hope they're even alive now." He twirls his fork in Reba's vegetables and finally takes a sip of wine. "I'm a soldeier, I fight for things bigger and better than me. Jin's bigger than me. He'll go on, like my people, and I just... have to wonder what'll happen. If what we're leaving behind is better than it was before. I can appreciate you doing that with Jin, really, I can, but..."

The white fox gets a far-off look in his eyes. He's packed to the brim with stories that would set the spine shivering. "The others like him... Maybe they don't do *magic*," he clarifies, "but it's pretty darn close. And they aren't even trying to be decent. The Erebus cyborgs have mastered all kinds of enhancement and modification, and they use it to ensure that they're just *better* than everyone else. They created a whole new race... just to have slaves. They use them in brutal labor and war-making. And..." His eyes grow dark and his voice is now audibly laced with hatred, more than he's ever let show before. "The Surtr. Jin said only the most advanced of his race could destroy a sun on their own. Them? They murdered *two* of ours already. And if they find our homeworld, they'll do it again. They master subspace flow and use it to strike when and where they want, butchering us. Just because they *can.* No mercy, no explanation. No *need* for an explanation, they're so damn advanced they don't even *
*think* like us!" He reins in his raising voice before it attracts unwanted attention. He turns back to the bar and lays his head in his hands. "Jin... I dunno. In the millions of years he'll have... he could turn out just like them."

Reba seems to be enjoying herself quite a bit, despite Emery's efforts to dampen her mood. She guzzles wine through her deciduous incisors, with a hissy, playful slurp. "What are you talking about, Em?" she asks with adoring concern. "What's the problem? What could possibly have happened to your race? Are you just getting panicky because there are..." Her voice trails off, and she sits back in her chair, as Emery rambles on. Her fur grows darker, the highlights fading. "The...Surtr?" she asks. "Murder...a sun?" Her face is astonished. She's silent for a time. "What?!" she eventually utters, eyes wide.

Emery turns back to Reba. "Oh... right," he says wearily. "Never told you." He sighs, not feeeling like he wants to relate the story in such a public place. "Eat... eat your fish, and I'll tell you afterwards, it'll... take some time."

Reba doesn't want to eat anymore. She just sits there, staring. Then she looks at the ceiling. Meanwhile, the guitarist, who's been sitting not far from Emery this whole time, listening in, gets up, gives Reba a sympathetic look, and retires to go sit with his amigos. At last, Reba takes a bite of fish. "Your whole kind, your whole species...could be dead? Is that *really* how bad it is?" she asks.

Emery stares at the far wall in silence as he leans his head into one hand, elbows up on the counter. "... Yeah," he says in a whisper. "Yeah it... it's that bad." He gropes around for words. "It's why I'm... scared to go back, and scared to stay. They want all of us. Every last one. I don't wanna die, but... I don't want to be alone even more." can't think of anything else to add. He looks around and starts to stand up. "Doesn't feel right to talk here..."

Reba leans over the table and over the food and hugs Emery. Warmly. Tightly. A little squeal comes from someplace in her, hard to hear. She holds him for a few seconds, and then, when she lets go, she's breathing quickly. "Then let's get this boxed up and go out to the beach," she suggests. Out there, it's quiet. The only listener is nature. And the sky is closer when you're outdoors, and Reba feels like the sky is kind of a part of this.

Emery is silent and contemplative through the hug, and is quick in asking for a box. And they do literally get a box, since take-out isn't really something people do at an inn. But oh well. Without hesitation, he heads out the door, moving further and further down the street to get away from the lights and the people, going for a stretch of beach where there really is nobody but nature. He finds a good spot, inclined at a comfortable degree for sitting, and plops down right there. Assuming Reba is with him, he asks, "So... where do you want me to start?"

Reba follows along in silence, with a quiet spring to her movements, a little erratic. She carries the box of food under her arm, and glances at the bustle and activity longingly. Too bad, doesn't matter. They're here for three days. Reba carefully seats herself next to Emery and plants her toes in the cool sand. "Holy hell," she murmurs. "I don't know. Tell me who these Suture people are. *Two suns*? Destroyed?" Her ears stand up fully in amazement.

Emery decides to lie down, dropping his back into the comforting pillow of earth beneath him. "I can't tell you much," he says, staring up at the afternoon sky. It's close to evening. "We don't know a whole lot. Nobody does. Not even the Venetii or the Erebus, and they're among the oldest. The Surtr might have come from some distant corner of the galaxy we haven't seen yet. Or maybe they're from a different galaxy entirely. A few of the death cults I've heard of say they're... almost like you and Jin. You know, dimension hoppers. But they aren't... they aren't like *us.*" He gestures with his hand at the space between he and Reba. "Like normal, living creatures. I've never seen one up close, just the pictures Intelligence gives us. If you can think of a six legged... hell, I don't know. Scorpion... lobster type things! In metal suits. They never come out of their ships. They never touch down on a planet. They never talk to us. Never try and explain who or what they are. They just... kill." He decides to start with their first contact. "It all started a couple years after we dug up something on an Argus planet. Something big and old. Dark science. Really, really scary stuff. But it jumped our tech forward a few decades, so everyone was happy with it. It was some kind of weapon, don't know the details. Built by an older race, older than even the Erebus. They wanted it, by the way, and so did a few of the Venetii clans. They attacked us in force, we fought back." He grins. "My first engagement was with an Erebus Gearhead fighter. The Surtr came quietly at first. One of our outposts, a mini-city in space, went totally dark. A battle was being fought there, so we thought we lost it. But the Venetii lost too. Everyone, everything, gone. Three days after that came... Anchor 518," he says, in a reverential whisper.

Reba stares into the cerulean sky and watches it darken. She puts out her elbows and tucks her hands behind her head. She doesn't look at Emery, but listens closely. "Scorpion nasties," she murmurs. "What do they want? What do they love?" She sings gently, slowly, a snippet from 'Electric Blues': "Tell me what's it that moooooves you? ... Tell me what's it that grooves you?" Then, after a long pause, she turns slightly toward the fox. "When did they show up?" she asks. She listens attentively to his answer. "How long ago was that?" she wants to know. "And what's...what's anchor 518?" She's beginning to get chills.

"Anchor 518 happened fifteen years ago," Emery goes on. "It was a major military outpost over a harsh planet used for training and command posts and the like. Only had about a hundred million of us on it. A survivor from the outpost that went dark flew in on the third day. The poor guy was, by all accounts, insane with fear. He kept babbling about pitch black ships with horns and spikes that came out of nowhere and killed everything. Venetii, us, the few Erebus in the area. It *was* the Surtr. Back then, we thought he had just cracked under battle stress. But barely two days after he came back, the Surtr followed him. 518... didn't stand a chance. Back then, it was another outpost gone. Figured the Erebus had snuck in a planet killer. We got absolutely no information about the battle. We sent back a task force to reclaim the system." He shudders. "They found Anchor 518... and the planet it was guarding... burned to a crisp."
Reba is enthralled. "*Only* a hundred million?" she sputters. "*Only* that? You mean...a hundred million people...were all killed, at once?! Just like that?" She's distraught, and her fur is getting spiny. "Wow...that's like...that's like all of Eoma just...sinking."

Emery nods slowly. "It got worse from there. The Surtr sent a few scout ships. Even one of their cruisers could be a match for one of our destroyers, though. We almost panicked, but it wasn't a big deal, at first. 518 was isolated. Six months of skirmishes with them and they were gone. But... they came back. They always come back." He sighs. "That's when things went downhill. Nine months after Anchor 518, the Surtr struck full force. No mercy. No rhyme or reason. They just... invaded. Completely random points across our space. We panicked. They were so advanced, and so inconsisten. Sometimes they'd attack a fleet, sometimes not. Sometimes just bombard a planet, sometimes not. Sometimes they just visited for a few hours. But they slowly got more aggressive. Thirteen months after Anchor, they found the Argus planet we discovered the ancient weapon on. Our technology was getting better as a result of that weapon. Maybe that's why they burned that planet too." He covers his eyes with one hand. "Three billion Argus dead. And they only needed one ship. Just one ship and its supporting fleet. They used... the Jormungandr." His voice is hushed again, this time by awe and fear. "It's a juggernaut class vessel the Surtr used against us on and off. It was the first time we saw it in action. It came, crushed the defending Argus fleet almost single-handed. Turned its attention to the planet, and... nothing lives there anymore. Nothing *can.* They smashed it so far into its own ground... nothing will grow there again in any of our lifetimes. Jormungandr disappeared for about five years after that. The Surtr stepped up their attacks after they found what we had uncovered. They'd use jump nodes we'd never be able to, nodes that shouldn't be physically possible to go through, nods that shouldn't have *existed* to attack us. Spear-headed an advance into our systems. One by one, they started claiming more systems. More planets. More lives. Delta Youssarian. Epsilon Voyager. Beta Cygni. Every battle we fought... was a loss. We might even crush a whole fleet of theirs, but... more always came back. Always. They were very spotty. We'd have a couple years respite, and then they'd come again. And again. And again. Every single time, they'd destroy something else. Searching every available entry point, trying to find the one place that'll break us. Twice more they used the Jormungandr, or ships like it. They didn't need to. They outnumbered us, outgunned us... but it's almost like killing us was secondary. They're looking for something, and we happen to be in the way, so tough luck for us. I joined up at sixteen to go help the cause during a lull. Wouldn't you know it... up until I was twenty three, things were a gas. No Surtr. Then after my twenty third birthday they came back. And that was when they started killing our suns."

Reba is awash is mystery. The sun she's watching is dying slowly, or rather just sinking beneath a line of stratus clouds as the day ages...but really, isn't everybody and every sun always in the process of dying, one way or another? She rolls over once while Emery is talking. She's still listening, though. "Doesn't make a lot of sense to me," she mumbles. "I mean...sure it does, I get the general idea. Supporting fleet...jump nodes...oh, well. You come from a world that's so alien to me...but so wonderful, I mean, it sounds horrible, but wonderful too..." The purple raccoon props herself up on one elbow. "Did you really join up because it's what your dad did?" she asks. "I mean, it must have been such a huge decision, with a war like no war before. Leapin' lizards, Emery...I thought your people were just fighting an ordinary war of some kind, like what they may be fighting hereabouts pretty soon. I had no idea it was so...catastrophic."

"I didn't have a choice," Emery murmurs. "What else was I going to do? Be a civilian and hope the planet I moved to wasn't next on their list? Nah. I was going to fight. Be all I could be," he says in a mocking tone. "Make a difference. But it's, um... yeah, it's bad," he says with a distant shrug. "A lot of us are refugees with other races. But they refuse to help. Doesn't matter, though. If the Surtr are trying to kill us, they'll go after them sooner or later. It's like... we're an experiment to them. A test to see how the first contact with this new race goes. They're willing to let go a fledgeling empire like us if it'll make them more secure. The past four years were the worst. Their juggernauts uncovered a new ability. They would flock into a system, surround the sun, use some kind of barely detectable subspace field, and... kaboom. Just like that. We have no idea what else happens to make it work. We just... don't know anything, except to try and fight back."

Reba's now full of thoughts, ideas, questions, avenues for exploration. She reaches out her arm automatically, wanting to sit on this slope, watching the sun go down, with a warm-blooded friend sharing his pulse with hers. It's amazing to think of it...fellow mammals, in space. The words on her lips are whispered: "Fledgling empire." What a notion. Time goes by. Eventually, Reba decides what to say. "Now...against all the odds...you joined up to fight, because you knew you couldn't run...even if you went to the farthest reaches of the known cosmos, joined up with robots and became their slaves, you still couldn't really run..." Her voice falls to a whisper again. "And now, against all the odds...you're safe." She tries to grab his eyes with her own, large and violet. "You're safe, Emery. You found a way. By accident, you found a way."

Emery turns back to Reba as she gets the first meaningful words in for some time, his own eyes bright and green, shining with quiet graciousness, and sadness. It's a dry, weighty kind of sadness that he just has to carry for now. "Found a way... to what, though?" he asks in an equally low voice. "I'm not supposed to be here. My place is... back with the others. What you and Jin are doing doesn't involve me. And what if... what if the Surtr somehow exist here, too? Find me? I can't be responsible for that. I don't want to be safe, Reba. Safe means, if my last mission failed... that I'll just be alone. I can't be like Jin. I won't be the last one."

Reba smiles and snakes her arm under Emery's back. She wants to hold him and make him feel safe, so that he can judge with more experience how bad it really is. "That's an interesting point," she concedes. "You don't feel kinship with me, or with anyone here that you've met...yet. You feel alone, like the last one. Two...three thoughts come to mind." Reba turns slowly and lets her other arm attack Emery gently from above...now, if he'll let her, she has one arm under his body and one draped over his chest. Her own face is half in a moist and fragrant stand of yellow grass, but she doesn't seem to mind. "One--that you might miss your family, your people, everyone you ever knew, for quite a while, and never forget them...but you might come to feel at home here, or elsewhere...just as I might come to feel home here on Salmaganda, if I were shipwrecked here forever," she says softly. "Two. Jin is a powerful creature beyond anything I've ever heard of...except possibly for your Surtr. The two greatest forces of which I've ever heard, barring mythology...and it seems to me that perhaps they ought to be brought together. If Jin died I would miss him terribly...I would weep, Emery. But maybe...that's the risk we should take. For he might...he might just...he might just win. Three." Reba's eyes are tearing up, to her apparent surprise. "Here you are, safe in another dimension. If I can send you back, or teach you to go back on your own, what would you do? Fight? Rejoin your company and fight and die? No. You would be best off trying to bring as many people back, or away, as possible. If you can come here from there, Emery, and go back again, then surely there's some way for everyone else to follow. Evacuate...evacuate an entire universe. What an idea." She's saying her thoughts out loud now...probably it's the wine.

Emery has to say he finds the idea of Jin wiping out the Surtr the most appealing. After committing such xenocide, they would deserve nothing less. He'd enjoy hearing them scream. Reba's touch is suprisingly warm. The kind he hasn't felt since he joined the Corps. Hearing her trying to be optimistic about this necessitates him reaching up to hold her hand in his, admiring the feel and look of it. He hasn't done that in years, either. "I think you're a bit tipsy," he replies with a smile. "It's a good idea, but there's no way... no way my people would just run like that. And I could never be apart from them. I'd get restless here. That's just me. Jin killing all of them is well and good, though." What's to be expected? He turns to look Reba in the eye. "I'm sorry. But... it's in my training. My blood. I'll never be able to settle down without knowing they're safe first. If there is no way back... I'll have to exhaust myself looking before I accept that." He holds her hand and draws it up to his snout where he kisses it, and draws it across his cheek, almost mesmerized. Maybe, just perhaps... he's starting to feel safe. Not just "I'm not going to die tonight" but well and truly out of harm's way. For now, at least.

It's so enchanting...all one has to do is care, reach out...and you find your hand held, and everything seems so minute, so beautifully close...Reba holds the fox's hand firmly. She leans against the sloped ground at an angle with plenty of potential for slippage, for sliding or rolling away if it's wanted, but she's holding herself in place with the strength of her muscles...and she likes that. "Your people wouldn't run?" she asks. "Even if it means dying? You made it sound like there's prcious little hope in this war. Like, even if the Surtr don't have the power to wipe you all out now, if you're very lucky and organized, they'll have what they need soon. Emery." She leans over and puts her head against him. It's more tender than when they were singing their duet. "Is home that great and glorious that it's worth dying for? I love remembering my own home...and I love to visit, but...it's just a piece of me. Surely *some* of your people would want to flee if they could. I'd guess it's more than you imagine."

[Viridis]

Emery takes his time coming up with an answer to that, gently pressing Reba's hand against his chest. Its not something he's considered before. When he didnt know about other worlds and dimensions and other mind-bending things, home was the *only* thing worth dying for. And now there are so many more possibilities. Somehow his free hand has worked its own way under Rebas back in those few minutes, holding firmly for security or companionship. They... would run. We don't *want* to die. When I'm dead, I won't be able to fight anymore. But there weren't any other options when they came for us. Home is all we have. And now I don't even know if I can have that again." He twists his head till his cheek is on her head. "You... sure we should be sitting like this?" he wonders quietly. "What with you being... semi-engaged and all."

Reba is engaged in keeping herself balanced in this intimate posture, on this slightly slippery slope. She lets her muscles relax at last and falls back against the soft earthy, grass-covered crest, and now they're lying with their arms behind each other's heads, their other arms clasped, an adorable twosome. "You're right," she says. "Lying down is much better." A deep breath comes out of Reba's lungs, a missive to the deepening sky. Hello, it says. I give in to you, sky. Do with me as you will. "Emery...the world keeps getting weirder. That's how it works, these days. That's how it is. I don't know if you realize it, but interdimensional travel used to be a lot harder than it is now. It used to be pretty much impossible. Year by year, though...the walls weaken...the doorways widen...and the options grow."

Emery doesn't resist when Reba brings them down. His thumb gently circles over her knuckles. "You talk like you know why this is happening," he notes, enchanted by the warmth and closeness of the moment. When was the last time he's been in a position like this? Vulnerable and open to another warm-blooded creature? It's impossible to remember. There was only the bracing cold of his cockpit, the familiar dimples in his seat where his body rested. This is like a good dream; he half-expects to wake up again on his lumpy matress back on the Aragosa, awoken by another scramble alert. The thought makes him scoot a little bit closer. "I sure don't. I can't forget where I came from. I will go back, if it takes the rest of my life. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to open up a little to all this. To make the most of what's happened instead of shunning it. Shunning you." He takes a deep breath. "You... make me think it's worth it."

Reba's cheek dimple. The tufts of fur above her jaws on the sides, less prominent in her than in a fox but still noticeable, flare as her face breaks into a strong, involuntary grin. She grasps that hand, that roving thumb, tightly. "It's good to open up..." she murmurs. "Soldier." She lowers their clasped hands and moves them slowly forward and back on Emery's chest. "We've hardly met each other," she says. "But based on what you've seen so far...do you like me?" Oh, silly Reba.

Emery smiles, but it's much more subdued than Reba's. He's pretty sure he'd be a little stain on the ground if Jin was as close to Reba as she said, and he wonders for a moment if she even knows what could happen if Jin 'catches' them. But, who cares. He's not here, and nothing *bad* is happening, as far as he can tell. "Maybe I'm just a hot-headed young male and I'm not thinking clearly..." he answers, but the smile slowly fades into something much more focused, and mature. "... I'd kiss you right now if I could. But I don't think that'd be a good idea." He looks down at their joined hands. "I just... nobody's ever tried to connect with me like this before. I mean sure, I've got alien friends... but a purple raccoon from another dimension? That just seems... special. And not just for the novelty of it. It's because you're special. I think Jin chose right when he chose you."

Reba's happy and warm and...surprise, suprise...fuzzy. She tightens her grip adoringly on Emery's hand one more time before letting hers slip fuzzily away. She lies back flat now, staring upward. "Why just aliens? Why not your own race? Sorry, I don't remember what you're called. But haven't you ever had any close friends of your own kind?" No longer thinking deep thoughts on her front burners, Reba is asking out of simple curiosity.
Emery nods. "A lot," he answers, very reluctantly letting Reba turn away. He turns his head to the sky, but he's still got one hand on her back. Not like he can move it with her lying on it. "Most of them are dead. Some still alive. You know, I... I actually got a Venetii warrior saying I'm his 'blood clan.' I saved his life when we were shot down over Sigma Eridanus. He made me an honorary member of his house. Last time I saw him was... two weeks before the mission that got me here. As for my own kind, that's my wing. My squadron. I'm a wing commander where I come from. And we're Felarans. For reference."

Reba stares dreamily with round fuschia irises. "Wing commander," she repeats. "Like you command the wings of a huge battle bird...I know that's silly...but to me, it might as well mean that." She chortles. "You've got to be in tune with the other wing commander, I guess, or trouble...ensues..." Hm. Reba shifts and lets Emery's arm loose, if he wants to retrieve it. She curls her own trapped fingers around his far side, on his ribcage. "So you do have close friends. Why do you say no one's ever tried to connect with you? Aren't close friends people with connections? Or do you...do you mean...intimately, like lovers cuddling?"

"Well, it... it's hard to explain," Emery says, fidgeting and breathing in sharply when he feel's Reba's fingers on his side. He's ticklish there. He only takes the new freedom to fully wrap his arm around to match Reba's action. Looks like he doesn't want it back yet. "In the military, you're close, sure, but... it's not this kind of closeness. You watch each other's backs, you love them like family. You grieve when they die and comfort each other, and give each other all kinds of crap because you're best friends. It's probably closer than lovers, sometimes. But you always know the next time you go out on a mission, it could be the last time you see them. You definitely don't 'cuddle.' It's like... knowing how you feel about each other, but never really articulating, or touching, or *being* close. That's how it is with my military, anyway. This is the first time I've ever, uh... done whatever it is we're doing."

"I am holding you," says Reba cutely, in a subdues, babylike tone. She does hold Emery...realizing that he's ticklish there, she presses her fingertips firmly in, and a few seconds later, lets her clawtips ontact his skin, just a little, just for a moment. Hee hee. "I think I understand," she allows at last, her face relaxing. "I never knew anyone in any military, to tell the truth. That's kind of why this is strange for me. Being on a naval ship, I mean. My life...you know, I've been down now and again...and I've got my problems..." She giggles. "But it's never been anything like that. You know your friends are gonna be there. Worst case, they top being your friends. I was in an attack once before I met Migo. Arrow fire. Inside a fort. That was pretty much it. Anyway...I'm glad you can feel that kind of closeness here. There are plenty of folks to feel it with. So long as you're here...you can afford to feel close."

Emery wiggles and actually lets out a small giggle, inadvertently pushing up next to Reba to get away from the tickling sensation. It's an odd, choked sound. "Cut that out," he says with a retaliatory dig of his own. He settles in to listen as she speaks, finding himself nodding in agreement. The ability to be close to someone, to know that they weren't heading into some hellish plane the very next day and see another friend torn apart... it's one of the best things he's heard in a while. Very abruptly, he wraps both his arms around Reba, and pulls her into a hug. It feels *weird* to do it after so long, and with such feelings of fuzzy closeness, and it makes his heart leap. But he does it anyway, because it feels the right thing to do after hearing that.
Reba emits a raccoonish squeal when her dig is met tit-for-tat, and she squirms closer, slipping a couple inches down the sandy grade. She stabilizes herself, and clings, and giggles again, and then, when Emery hugs her, all thought of romance is gone. Her fur takes on a persimmon tinge for the first time since she's known Emery, like an underlying glow. She hugs him back. Joyfully. Tightly. Like a beloved toy. "Hmmmmmooooou," she coos. "Emer-y, you are *safe*! Safe if you choose to beee."

Safe? Not if Jin comes along right now. Practically lying on top of each other, arms wrapped about one another. Not that he's thinking about what that would imply. If it weren't for the fact that he met her second, he'd have accompanied that hug with a kiss and a few sweet nothings in her ear. Alas, that is not to be. A rush of conflicting emotions, and all he has to hold on to is Reba, his grip tight and slightly desperate. "I do," he murmurs. "I choose it." And he does *feel* safe. Even if Reba wouldn't be able to defend him against lint, let alone any monsters that may come at him again, he feels safe. For the first time in his life, he's safe. No creatures in the night. Just the stars, and Reba, and the beach. He never wants to let go of that.
Reba would too be able to defend Emery against lint! She has lint-defenses in her arsenal. And--ooh! Are those the first stars coming out? She loosens her hold on Emery and clambers to sit up again. The sky looks different here at night than she's used to. Still, she keeps hold of her space fox. "Then we'll be all right," said Reba. A pause transpires. "Sometimes...the choice to be safe is also the choice to give something up. Risk comes with rewards, you know...safety comes with sacrifice." She inhales unsteadily and wipes her hand across her face. Does Emery know what she's talking about?

Emery sits up with Reba, peeking a glance up at the stars. He wonders how long it would take for the Surtr to make the skies black with their sun-killing power. Still keeping a tight hold on his violaceous raccoon, he notices her suddenly troubled speech and watches her steadily. "Did... you have to give something up?" he asks quietly, carefully, rubbing her far upper arm.

Reba looks at Emery's hand, fascinated, involved. She moves her arm slowly in a circle, letting it rest against her body, smiling. "That's my arm," she says. "No...I never really did. I always had safety, and truth be told, I've probably got less of it living the life I do, flitting here and there, than I would've if...if I'd stayed at home." She shrugs and gulps. "I meant your people, though. You said, 'They will run.' For the Felarans...the getting of safety will probably come as a result of letting go of what...they've fought so strongly to keep." There's a tear there now, to Reba's surprise. How she cares so much, so swiftly, about people she's never met, baffles her. "They just have to let go of...their universe...and they'll be safe," she finishes.

Emery, almost on instinct, raises his hand to gently scrub away the tear. "That's what war does to people," he explains quietly. "It forces them to make choices no normal person ever should. But letting go doesn't solve everything. Because eventually you're left with nothing, and then they take your life. It's one of the reasons we're so family oriented. We're the only things we can take with us when we pack up and leave somewhere. Planets and suns can die, words are forgotten. But the love we have for each other will always be safe, no matter which universe we're in."

Reba nods dearly and tenderly, loving the touch Emery is giving her. She cries more tears, and struggles, and gets to her feet, drawing her companion up slowly...and pushes against the slope with her right foot to stay balanced, digging it in. "Then that's perfect," she says. "The thing you love most--each other--is the thing you get to keep." She closes her eyes. "No one's going to take your lives if your people find a way to come back here...or into a new dimension, just for them. It seems like it should be possible. If it can't happen now...maybe in a few years, it can. Ways are opening up, Emery. If your people can just make the choice to leave...they'll be safe. It doesn't have to be like giving up. I mean, it does, it is, but...it's nothing to be ashamed of." Her next words come through tears and are hard to pronounce: "You fought so-o hard!!"

Emery stands up with Reba, hands resting lightly on her hips. He sees the tears on her cheeks, wishing he could do something to stem their flow. "We all fought hard," he says quietly. "But it's not over yet. Not for a long time, but... I do feel safe now, Reba. Here. Because of... each other. This is something we never have to let go of." Feeling emboldened by the fact that he's not the one crying (he finished with crying a long time ago), he does something even he doesn't except. He leans forward and kisses her. On the cheek, mind you, both cheeks, right where the tears have been going. "Want to go for a walk?" he asks immediately afterwards, eyes shining as the moonlight creeps up and overtakes everything else. "The moon can walk us back to the ship. Or, uh... anywhere else you feel like going."

Reba goes through a number of complex emotions, none of them trenchant, as Emery cleans the tears through kisses. She moves in for them without any apparent qualm. "Emery," she utters. But there's no further thing to be said, here. Feeling a little weakened by the crying, and the words of sacrifice and hope, and the kissing, Reba slowly climbs her way up the grade as if she's climbing a mountain. She stands at the top, looking distantly at the nearby city. She picks up the box of food and looks down the street, seeing a few people walking by and calling to each other, but their numbers are thin. "Oh, crap!" she exclaims through the veneer of tears. "I wanted to get some new clothes before the shops close! Do you think we're too late?"

Emery smiles and seems to laugh with his eyes. "Too late? Reba, if there's one thing I know about towns like this... there's never a 'late.'" He offers her his arm. "Ships still come in and goods still move around. Come on, let's see if we can't pick up something. Night's still young." In fact, it only just now started to be 'night' so Emery figures they have a good chance of finding... well, somebody.

The sky, after all, is still blue, albeit a dark blue. Reba's fur is moving in the other direction, though. There are bluish purples and reddish purples, and Reba is swinging from a long phase in the former to the latter. It's a subtle thing to notice, but sometimes this girl is worth noticing. She takes Emery's arm in swinging, classic style, and laughs as she heads toward downtown Salmaganda. There's happiness in her step. A safe place makes a person feel good, after all. "Emery," she says softly as they stroll, her ears pert. "You help remind me how good I've got it."

City nightlife is something else Emery hasn't experienced in a good long while. It's still fairly crowded, not nearly as much as a couple hours ago, but there is a liveliness to it all that cannot be dampened. It reminds Emery of some of the space stations he's visited. Reba's words are welcome in his ears, but he can't help but feel a twinge of... jealousy? Guilt? Both? But, she probably just says that to everybody. "And you *gave* me something good when I didn't have anything," he settles on. "I guess that makes us even." And so lost in the crowd they become.