( Prominently displayed on the refrigerator is a note written on white, lined paper in a flowing hand. Usually he prefers a fountain pen, but desperate times mean that he's settled for a ballpoint (which he's kept) found in a drawer.
Greetings,
My apologies if this is the way we first make our acquaintance. I've recently arrived in this place, and these are the lodgings I've chosen, only because they seemed empty. I realize now that this is not the case.
I look forward to our paths crossing soon. Should you happen to see this note before I return, please feel free to reach out if there is something you would like me to bring home. Grocery, pharmaceutical, or anything else. I should be back before sundown.
Regards,
Tseng
Beneath his signature, and the carefully penned and far more legible spelling of his name, is a phone number. But he's very cleverly set up his username for the network to also be Tseng, should she prefer to reach out that way. )
[Such as luck would be. It made perfect sense that someone else would seek out the one, seemingly empty cottage. The pickings seemed decidedly slim, considering the... variety of individuals around. To say nothing of Adora and Catra.]
[But a note, penned so elegantly and politely was a promising sign. Perhaps she would have her quiet after all. Not that Shadow Weaver was given long to contemplate it; her housemate seemed to be arriving not long after her discovery of the message.]
[She still has it in hand, actually, clutched in grey fingers and too-pointed nails. She's likely not what Tseng expected, a tall woman with her strange (some-what singed) robes, and bandages wrapped around the entirety of her face. A pair of the cheap, tacky sunglasses from the store really complete the look, as did the limp hair framing them.]
[And judging by the groceries...]
Tseng, I presume?
[The low, enunciated voice really must add to the "I went dumpster diving behind a fire-bombed clown store" style.]
( Although somewhat surprised to find his new housemate already waiting for him—to say nothing of the sight that greets him—his expression does little to show it as he steps through the door. His name earns a brief quirk of a smile and a polite nod of his head, while her appearance warrants at least a once-over, curious but not mocking. He isn't in very good shape himself, though his jacket does well in concealing the worst of the stains and the tears through his shirt. When he speaks, his voice comes soft, deep, and even. )
You presume correctly. I apologize for intruding, but at least there seems to be space enough for the two of us, if you're amenable. Whom do I have the pleasure of sharing a house with?
( Space enough, yes, although its meager accommodations are far below the standard he'd long grown used to in Midgar. He'll manage; he always manages. And that shows plainly enough as he approaches her, saying nothing as he sets a large paper grocery bag on the counter and begins to organize its contents beside it. Fresh food mostly: fruit, vegetables, and charcuterie, though there are some canned things. A considerable amount of toiletries, mainly haircare. A few cleaning products. And a bottle of sparkling wine. He'll drink alone if she's uninterested, but it seemed like a fair apology and a good opportunity to get to know one another. )
I didn't hear from you while I was out, so I made my best guesses.
So far, I am more amenable to it than my other options, [She answers, her voice a little dry. Her gaze follows, turning to the array of items Tseng's laid out. A thoughtful one, it seems.] I was... occupied, after my awakening on the island.
[That seemed a better way to phrase "my wards dragged my unconscious body to the clinic and proceeded to play at jail wardens." The sorceress steps closer to the counter, a finger tracing the unfamiliar label of the wine. Alcohol sounded like a splendid idea; she still ached despite recovering some, both her body and some thing so much keener on a metaphysical level. Like severe hunger pains, and utterly not at the same time.]
Good enough guesses, I would say. I am Shadow Weaver; you have my gratitude for being the most thoughtful individual I have yet to encounter here.
[Adora. Catra. Her hand leaves the bottle as she wanders to the old cabinents, searching for cups.]
( It's a cautious answer, genial but hinting at something. At first glance, she seems the type to be as generally guarded as himself, so it's a fair surprise when she elaborates without him even beginning to pry. And even though the answer itself is vague enough, he understands the subtext quite plainly. His own awakening had been fairly uneventful, save for the fact that, for reasons he's yet to fully comprehend, the surely fatal wound he remembers incurring just before waking has healed. A pity his shirt had not. )
You're the first I've encountered at all. It was a somewhat lonesome walk here. ( He glances as she moves past, before going back to the food to start putting things away, though he leaves the cheese and meat out. The bath products go back into the bag for now, and set on the floor before he, too, starts rummaging through the kitchen for a knife and, preferably a cutting board. A simple meal is all he really has the stomach for just yet. )
Are the others you've met here hostile? Or simply selfish? ( He hesitates, then decides not to bring up his own past so eagerly. He'll prove his defenses if and when it comes down to it. Whether she's hiding her own tricks is difficult to tell, although with a name that sounds more coded than his own, he has his suspicions already that she's more than her appearance lets on. )
[The cups look just as dismal as everything else in this blasted cottage, but they looked clean enough, at least. She was decidedly not picky. Tseng's comment threatens to bring laughter to her throat for how spot-on it is, but Shadow Weaver pushes it down until it's only a faint, amused coloring to her voice.]
One simply selfish, another both. I sincerely hope they do not accost you in the future for simply having associated with me.
[Back at the bottle, and Shadow Weaver uses one vaguely-clawed finger to rip the cork out. Not as graceful as she'd prefer, but... well, it's been a day.]
( Tseng takes responsibility for not checking cabinets and drawers more thoroughly before leaving; he may have been able to locate less humble amenities for them to keep. As it is, at least there are a few things, usable things, for the time being, and at least Shadow Weaver doesn't seem to mind. Besides, it's her answer that piques his interest more as he starts preparing squares of cheese and discs of cured meat to pair with the wine she's thoughtfully popping open.
He'll endeavor to cook something properly tomorrow. )
Oh? Should I take down descriptions so I know whom to look out for?
( There is no fear in his voice, only amusement. There has been only one thing to stand in his way after a decade of service and, in a strange way, he's grateful to whatever brought him here that it took him away from that blockade. )
Oh, they'll be difficult to miss. One is a paranoid blond warrior with an ancient sword—she is quite talented, really, but has such difficulty keeping her priorities straight. The other is feline in nature. Duplicitous, that one. She will sell you out to get ahead.
[Time and time again. Catra's accusation of powerless still stings at the back of Shadow Weaver's mind, even if she knew the girl held nothing over her. She is so young, here... and no doubt going to betray her once more.]
[Shadow Weaver leaves the sad cup by Tseng's cutting board, wandering to an equally sad dining table to pull out a chair—and settle with her back to him. Given the lengths she's gone to to cover her face, it's probably no surprise the sorceress wouldn't drink while facing him.]
( At such a description—of Adora, anyway—Tseng can't help the chuckle that leaves him—or the way it might threaten to turn worse if he dwells on the idea too long. )
Blonds with swords are often troublesome. Talented or not. But I will mind the other, should I see her.
( He does not mention that he, too, will do what is necessary because he doesn't want to make an enemy when he is trying to make a friend. Or at least something like it. Instead, he arranges the food as he slices it, and finishes the cutting board off with a large-ish bunch of grapes. But when he notices the way that she sits, almost sulking when she'd been rather forthcoming all this while, he does put two-and-two together and goes to find a plate in the cabinets. He, too, values privacy, and far be it from him to impose on hers any further than he already has simply by showing up in the house. )
I've done many things in my time. Not all of them I am proud of, as is the nature of my work. But duplicitousness isn't something I tend towards.
( When he brings the plate over, he is careful not to look at her but the window, though natural, human curiosity begs him to. It is as much to continue respecting her privacy as it is to ensure she might not try to read his face, and perhaps see that while he doesn't tend towards it, it is nonetheless a means to an end he has had to take in the past. )
[Regardless of his respect, Shadow Weaver's face subtly averts as she accepts the plate, and takes first to plucking off a grape with two clawed fingers.]
Ah, but is that not the nature of age? I consider it a hallmark of maturity to set aside one's own wishes for the necessity of success.
[And only does she take to eating once has Tseng has turned to seek other seating. Shadow Weaver was quite professional about many things... but her face ever remained an insecurity, an unwelcome tether to the past.]
[She wouldn't resort to such an unsightly look of wrapped bandages and tacky tourist sunglasses if it weren't.]
( With no reason to linger, he leaves her to her plate and her wine, heading back to stand at the counter and graze on his own half of the food and wine. For all appearances, they may have led dramatically different lives, but there is something of a spark of kindred Tseng feels for Shadow Weaver as they share this space, even with that invisible wall between them. He certainly could have done much worse for a roommate.
Still, for all that he dismisses his curiosity about how she came to wear so many bandages, work is something he finds much easier to talk about, even though, at least for him, it straddles the line between personal and impersonal. Such is the life of a Turk, where the true personal life is all but lost entirely for the sake of the company. )
I suppose that's true enough. ( He laughs lightly, chews thoughtfully and swallows before speaking again. ) I certainly didn't value ruthlessness in my early career the way that I do now. But then, values had to shift once the number of branch employees shrank while the duties and expectations grew. There's a little less at stake in data protection and espionage than in bodyguarding and assassination.
( It is a bit of bait—to see how she'll react, and whether that's to balk or to ask questions or perhaps even, as he hopes, to share in return the sort of life she used to lead before they both found themselves here. )
[Even if she had been facing Tseng, the coverings on her face would obscure her expression. As it is, Shadow Weaver's head tilts the slightest fraction to the side. What a curious statement. This man had struck her as polite, but not particularly chatty; that felt a very deliberate statement, one which could have a number of motivations.]
[Shadow Weaver mostly heard a quiet threat, not unlike a predator making itself known in a space.]
[Oh, how she missed the Black Garnet. Until she found something to siphon...]
My, what a varied and dangerous career you've led. One that you would have quite some difficulty surviving for long without ruthlessness. [She pauses to take a sip of her wine.] I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself well, should those two come around to trouble us.
[Keeping her tone light, she adds,] What sort of means are you proficient with?
( To interpret his offer of information as a threat isn't so far off, although he has little interest in throwing his weight around at home. He doesn't feel like he needs to; he doesn't see her as a threat, after all, and even if he did, there would be little sense in making an enemy already. He has enough of those back home. A fresh start might almost be...nice.
But in the end the bait doesn't work even remotely as intended. He isn't disappointed, though. If anything, it's admirable how tight-lipped she remains. However, it also makes her all the more intriguing. )
Many. ( He replies simply, eyeing his spread of food briefly but not yet having any more. ) Firearms are my weapon of choice, but I'm capable in hand-to-hand combat. I'm also familiar with something...a little difficult to explain. A sort of blend of science and something a little more arcane. We call it Materia. It can create fire, lightning, and some of them can even heal the deadliest of wounds or poisons.
( It's unfortunately only the latter type of Materia he's brought with him, nothing so flashy as Magic Materia. He's grateful to have what he does, but he does regret not bringing something offensive as well. Especially not knowing how or where he'll be able to acquire any other kind of weaponry, should he need it. )
[Ah, there is—quite literally—the magic word. Shadow Weaver's head turns slightly, not enough to show her exposed lower face, but enough indicate her interest was piqued.]
[Very piqued.]
Is that so? "It," as like an object... that is quite fascinating. Your culture uses technology of a sort to harness magic, does it?
( Although no fool, there is a certain degree of foolishness Tseng feels in the way she reacts. These scales have tipped far too much in her favor. So much for a fresh start. But, he's straddling a delicate line, now, and closing off suddenly would surely only cause more trouble than he already has by so easily revealing so much. All in the interest of polite conversation... )
An object, yes, though I hesitate to call it "magic." The only sort of magic I'm familiar with is sleight of hand that lightens a wallet under the guise of a simple guessing game.
( He pauses: to drink, to eat, to gather his thoughts and choose his words carefully. ) I take it you're familiar with magic that's a little more impressive than petty theft?
[This is one particular area she doesn't mind tipping her hand. Even if the history of it is checkered, there were still points of pride there.]
Quite. I've spent a number of my years as a renowned teacher of sorcery. Sorcerers like myself, however, channel latent magic in our environment. The idea of this... materia, is completely novel.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-11-09 07:18 am (UTC)Beneath his signature, and the carefully penned and far more legible spelling of his name, is a phone number. But he's very cleverly set up his username for the network to also be Tseng, should she prefer to reach out that way. )
no subject
Date: 2020-11-10 06:00 am (UTC)[Such as luck would be. It made perfect sense that someone else would seek out the one, seemingly empty cottage. The pickings seemed decidedly slim, considering the... variety of individuals around. To say nothing of Adora and Catra.]
[But a note, penned so elegantly and politely was a promising sign. Perhaps she would have her quiet after all. Not that Shadow Weaver was given long to contemplate it; her housemate seemed to be arriving not long after her discovery of the message.]
[She still has it in hand, actually, clutched in grey fingers and too-pointed nails. She's likely not what Tseng expected, a tall woman with her strange (some-what singed) robes, and bandages wrapped around the entirety of her face. A pair of the cheap, tacky sunglasses from the store really complete the look, as did the limp hair framing them.]
[And judging by the groceries...]
Tseng, I presume?
[The low, enunciated voice really must add to the "I went dumpster diving behind a fire-bombed clown store" style.]
no subject
Date: 2020-11-10 07:12 am (UTC)You presume correctly. I apologize for intruding, but at least there seems to be space enough for the two of us, if you're amenable. Whom do I have the pleasure of sharing a house with?
( Space enough, yes, although its meager accommodations are far below the standard he'd long grown used to in Midgar. He'll manage; he always manages. And that shows plainly enough as he approaches her, saying nothing as he sets a large paper grocery bag on the counter and begins to organize its contents beside it. Fresh food mostly: fruit, vegetables, and charcuterie, though there are some canned things. A considerable amount of toiletries, mainly haircare. A few cleaning products. And a bottle of sparkling wine. He'll drink alone if she's uninterested, but it seemed like a fair apology and a good opportunity to get to know one another. )
I didn't hear from you while I was out, so I made my best guesses.
no subject
Date: 2020-11-10 02:03 pm (UTC)[That seemed a better way to phrase "my wards dragged my unconscious body to the clinic and proceeded to play at jail wardens." The sorceress steps closer to the counter, a finger tracing the unfamiliar label of the wine. Alcohol sounded like a splendid idea; she still ached despite recovering some, both her body and some thing so much keener on a metaphysical level. Like severe hunger pains, and utterly not at the same time.]
Good enough guesses, I would say. I am Shadow Weaver; you have my gratitude for being the most thoughtful individual I have yet to encounter here.
[Adora. Catra. Her hand leaves the bottle as she wanders to the old cabinents, searching for cups.]
no subject
Date: 2020-11-11 06:16 am (UTC)You're the first I've encountered at all. It was a somewhat lonesome walk here. ( He glances as she moves past, before going back to the food to start putting things away, though he leaves the cheese and meat out. The bath products go back into the bag for now, and set on the floor before he, too, starts rummaging through the kitchen for a knife and, preferably a cutting board. A simple meal is all he really has the stomach for just yet. )
Are the others you've met here hostile? Or simply selfish? ( He hesitates, then decides not to bring up his own past so eagerly. He'll prove his defenses if and when it comes down to it. Whether she's hiding her own tricks is difficult to tell, although with a name that sounds more coded than his own, he has his suspicions already that she's more than her appearance lets on. )
no subject
Date: 2020-11-16 02:02 pm (UTC)One simply selfish, another both. I sincerely hope they do not accost you in the future for simply having associated with me.
[Back at the bottle, and Shadow Weaver uses one vaguely-clawed finger to rip the cork out. Not as graceful as she'd prefer, but... well, it's been a day.]
Happy belated birthday to her~
Date: 2020-11-22 03:17 am (UTC)He'll endeavor to cook something properly tomorrow. )
Oh? Should I take down descriptions so I know whom to look out for?
( There is no fear in his voice, only amusement. There has been only one thing to stand in his way after a decade of service and, in a strange way, he's grateful to whatever brought him here that it took him away from that blockade. )
She got a crap ton of seeds from skele-bro :>
Date: 2020-11-22 07:35 am (UTC)Oh, they'll be difficult to miss. One is a paranoid blond warrior with an ancient sword—she is quite talented, really, but has such difficulty keeping her priorities straight. The other is feline in nature. Duplicitous, that one. She will sell you out to get ahead.
[Time and time again. Catra's accusation of powerless still stings at the back of Shadow Weaver's mind, even if she knew the girl held nothing over her. She is so young, here... and no doubt going to betray her once more.]
[Shadow Weaver leaves the sad cup by Tseng's cutting board, wandering to an equally sad dining table to pull out a chair—and settle with her back to him. Given the lengths she's gone to to cover her face, it's probably no surprise the sorceress wouldn't drink while facing him.]
Food or flowers? Imagining these two gardening together is...amusing lol
Date: 2020-11-26 03:23 pm (UTC)Blonds with swords are often troublesome. Talented or not. But I will mind the other, should I see her.
( He does not mention that he, too, will do what is necessary because he doesn't want to make an enemy when he is trying to make a friend. Or at least something like it. Instead, he arranges the food as he slices it, and finishes the cutting board off with a large-ish bunch of grapes. But when he notices the way that she sits, almost sulking when she'd been rather forthcoming all this while, he does put two-and-two together and goes to find a plate in the cabinets. He, too, values privacy, and far be it from him to impose on hers any further than he already has simply by showing up in the house. )
I've done many things in my time. Not all of them I am proud of, as is the nature of my work. But duplicitousness isn't something I tend towards.
( When he brings the plate over, he is careful not to look at her but the window, though natural, human curiosity begs him to. It is as much to continue respecting her privacy as it is to ensure she might not try to read his face, and perhaps see that while he doesn't tend towards it, it is nonetheless a means to an end he has had to take in the past. )
Re: Food or flowers? Imagining these two gardening together is...amusing lol
Date: 2020-12-01 04:26 am (UTC)Ah, but is that not the nature of age? I consider it a hallmark of maturity to set aside one's own wishes for the necessity of success.
[And only does she take to eating once has Tseng has turned to seek other seating. Shadow Weaver was quite professional about many things... but her face ever remained an insecurity, an unwelcome tether to the past.]
[She wouldn't resort to such an unsightly look of wrapped bandages and tacky tourist sunglasses if it weren't.]
Apologies; things have been a little hectic for me lately but should be better now
Date: 2020-12-08 09:23 pm (UTC)Still, for all that he dismisses his curiosity about how she came to wear so many bandages, work is something he finds much easier to talk about, even though, at least for him, it straddles the line between personal and impersonal. Such is the life of a Turk, where the true personal life is all but lost entirely for the sake of the company. )
I suppose that's true enough. ( He laughs lightly, chews thoughtfully and swallows before speaking again. ) I certainly didn't value ruthlessness in my early career the way that I do now. But then, values had to shift once the number of branch employees shrank while the duties and expectations grew. There's a little less at stake in data protection and espionage than in bodyguarding and assassination.
( It is a bit of bait—to see how she'll react, and whether that's to balk or to ask questions or perhaps even, as he hopes, to share in return the sort of life she used to lead before they both found themselves here. )
NP; same here.
Date: 2020-12-16 03:16 am (UTC)[Shadow Weaver mostly heard a quiet threat, not unlike a predator making itself known in a space.]
[Oh, how she missed the Black Garnet. Until she found something to siphon...]
My, what a varied and dangerous career you've led. One that you would have quite some difficulty surviving for long without ruthlessness. [She pauses to take a sip of her wine.] I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself well, should those two come around to trouble us.
[Keeping her tone light, she adds,] What sort of means are you proficient with?
no subject
Date: 2020-12-19 01:53 am (UTC)But in the end the bait doesn't work even remotely as intended. He isn't disappointed, though. If anything, it's admirable how tight-lipped she remains. However, it also makes her all the more intriguing. )
Many. ( He replies simply, eyeing his spread of food briefly but not yet having any more. ) Firearms are my weapon of choice, but I'm capable in hand-to-hand combat. I'm also familiar with something...a little difficult to explain. A sort of blend of science and something a little more arcane. We call it Materia. It can create fire, lightning, and some of them can even heal the deadliest of wounds or poisons.
( It's unfortunately only the latter type of Materia he's brought with him, nothing so flashy as Magic Materia. He's grateful to have what he does, but he does regret not bringing something offensive as well. Especially not knowing how or where he'll be able to acquire any other kind of weaponry, should he need it. )
no subject
Date: 2020-12-19 02:03 am (UTC)[Very piqued.]
Is that so? "It," as like an object... that is quite fascinating. Your culture uses technology of a sort to harness magic, does it?
[Like the First Ones.]
no subject
Date: 2020-12-19 02:13 am (UTC)An object, yes, though I hesitate to call it "magic." The only sort of magic I'm familiar with is sleight of hand that lightens a wallet under the guise of a simple guessing game.
( He pauses: to drink, to eat, to gather his thoughts and choose his words carefully. ) I take it you're familiar with magic that's a little more impressive than petty theft?
no subject
Date: 2020-12-27 08:05 pm (UTC)Quite. I've spent a number of my years as a renowned teacher of sorcery. Sorcerers like myself, however, channel latent magic in our environment. The idea of this... materia, is completely novel.
[Kind of.]