Welcome to Gaia! ::

Being in the Intelligence Branch was nice. So nice. Having a real weapon was nice. Being able to teleport away from people trying to kill him was beyond nice.

Quartz knew exactly why Galena had been so adamant that captaincy was the only option for survival. Because it was true in every respect.

For now, he just had to worry about his quotas, while he waited to be assigned some sort of creepy direct reports to oversee. That mostly meant energy gathering and information. Easier. Safer. Doable. Lots of people didn't want to fight him once he explained he wasn't interested.

This was an odd blip on the radar, though. It reminded him of other times he'd felt the strange auric energy, and he knew it clearly: Amytis had been like this, the senshi he'd stalked with Soyala. And more of them, besides, at the amusement park later.

Dark Mirror Senshi. Eternal level. Shifts in auric energy felt slow, something he'd been taught to pick up on: the senshi seemed to be more idle than on a mission.

A good thing, then. It would be an opportunity to try and gauge how the Dark Mirror Court currently perceived the Negaverse -- and if he could get any particular intel that could be used against any of them, that was so much the better: Quartz preferred turning in intel on the Dark Mirror than the Knights or the White Moon, if possible. They Dark Mirror were already Chaos. They were already ********. They deserved it.

He followed the aura slowly, moving into a range where Schörl had taught him that his own smaller auric flow would become perceptible to others. Since he was hoping not to fight, he kept his spear safely stowed in subspace and approached empty-handed, thumbs looped in the seams of his side pockets.

"I beg your pardon," he called out politely from a nearby balcony, standing on someone's plastic deck chair to spot the senshi he'd been approaching. "Are you busy at all?"

There were three kinds of people in the world: the kind who didn't really care if someone was topless, the kind that stared openly, and the kind that went to incredible effort to politely not stare.

Quartz was used to being stared at. It wasn't hard to tell the difference, with most people. Physical cues could sometimes be easy to read.

"I beg your pardon," he said with a show of self-consciousness, lowering his gaze to look shy about his state of undress and reaching back to grab the trailing end of his shirt. He raised it, and hastily stuffed his right arm through the second sleeve, tugging the trailing end of his scarf through the arm hole so it still fell properly.

That proved that there were, technically, two sleeves to the garment -- Quartz just didn't usually bother wearing it that way. It always manifested with the one sleeve off, trailing at his back, and had to be finagled on as he'd just done. But there wasn't much point to it, he found: the shirt lacked much coverage even worn more properly, so his chest and the little worked chains that criss-crossed it remained mostly exposed.

Still, the act of it furthered the idea that he was at least a little ashamed. He thought that would go over better than the truth: that it didn't matter to him, that he felt an unrelatable numbness about the idea. (His body didn't belong to him, not really -- so what did it matter whether or not he liked being paraded around half-naked? Better to break himself of the habit of letting it bother him. Better to adapt.)

He looked up at her, one balcony up. "I'd rather not fight, as a general rule, if I can help it. I'm afraid others often feel differently. Captain Quartz," he introduced himself. "Do you mind if I come up?"

Quartz's jump up to grab the balcony railing was light, acrobatic despite the substance of his build: the easy movement of someone who knew his own weight and strength and agility, and how to move a well-bulked body with grace. He'd been a dancer for years -- he supposed he could claim at least that one skill. He pulled himself up by his arms and then finished the movement, settling himself a little guardedly next to her on the balcony and dusting off his hands.

"You're kind to offer," he said, using the sash on his left to further wipe the grime out from between his fingers. This one's way of speaking suggested a formal upbringing, or at least a deep desire to emulate one: the niceties would probably matter to her a great deal. Well, that was easily enough managed. "Though I'm afraid I wouldn't be allowed to wear something that interferes with my given uniform. Please don't trouble yourself over it."

When he was sure his hands were nice and clean, Quartz extended one towards Mintaka, to present the greeting a little more formally. "I'm grateful for your welcome. Is your position a typical one? I was under the impression that the alliance between the Negaverse and the Dark Mirror Court had grown strained."

Quartz was, he supposed, going to get a sweater from a member of the Dark Mirror Court. That was . . . fine? He guessed? He would most likely wear it the day Mintaka presented it to him, then it would moulder away in the back of a dresser drawer until Stroud came up with some mischievous use for it.

No matter. If this was Mintaka's idea of ingratiating herself with the Negaverse, then Quartz would accept it with polite grace. After all, it served his purposes to build allies. Until and unless he was told to treat the Dark Mirror Court as a group of enemies, he could continue to make personal connections with them.

The more people that didn't want to kill Quartz, the better.

"Well, thank you for thinking of me," he allowed graciously. "It's very kind."

He leaned a hand against the railing, making a polite study of Mintaka: her elaborate uniform, her rigidly mannered poise. He wondered whether it was sincere -- but for now, there was little danger in hearing her out.

"I'm afraid I know very little about the Dark Mirror Court at all," he said. "What was the nature of our original alliance?"

This was a beneficial interaction, so Quartz minded himself carefully: he let his face remain open and blank, muscles carefully drawn not to shift in expression in a way that might telegraph his inner thoughts.

He was, more than anything, surprised to hear that there had been a time not so long ago when the Negaverse had been close to defeat at the hands of senshi and knights, that they'd had to secure an alliance with a weaker force in order to keep themselves afloat.

What he was less surprised by was the notion that the Negaverse had cut their losses with the Dark Mirror Court once they no longer needed them. Dead weight created drag. Drag slowed forward progress. They were ruthless and unsentimental, in the Negaverse.

(Some of them, at least, a confused voice in his head pointed out. He didn't always understand some of the Negaverse's idiosyncrasies and contradictions until he had Schörl to explain them to him.)

"I wish I knew," he said with an apologetic smile. "I'd rather maintain an alliance than make a new enemy, whenever possible. Unfortunately, captains are privy to very little decision-making." He leaned in a little, giving over some of his weight to his arm braced against the railing. "Do you still look for a way to peacefully end the war, then?"

Quartz knew better than to tell Mintaka that she was deranged. There was nothing to be gained in insulting a potential ally -- and so, regardless of how much luck he suspected Mintaka was going to have with repairing the alliance between their two factions, he nodded his comprehension.

"Alliances are a start," he agreed. "We won't gain anything without people who are willing to try."

Quartz struggled to imagine the Negaverse that Mintaka was describing. There is also so much good -- the joke of the year -- Earth could be free of all wars -- the encore punchline. He tried to imagine the benevolent dictatorship Mintaka was suggesting could be achieved . . . but each time, he pictured Schörl seated atop that hypothetical throne, and the very idea was rendered utterly absurd.

Dictator -- yes. Benevolent?

Benevolence was not her way.

"Perhaps if an alliance were formalized in writing," Quartz suggested, mostly just to give Mintaka something to consider. "Specific terms of cooperation. Joint patrols and energy-gathering, that sort of thing. Forming bonds is a little more lasting that simply asking tolerance."

He's going to be a Negaverse General.

That statement was about as insane, as gratingly precious, as anything else she'd said.

How foolishly cute it was, her belief that this Aurostibite was so absolutely going to be a General that she could start talking about him as one already. Did he know? Did he, too, walk around convinced of his own impending rise to greatness? Brag about it to this woman he was ******** wondered if maybe Aurostibite had spun a tall tale to get in bed with Mintaka.

Charming. Really.

Quartz had no intention of spending a single second on drafting a formal alliance with the Dark Mirror Court. He'd intended to suggest it to Mintaka as something for her to waste her time attempting. As far as he was concerned, unless Schörl saw some merit in it, it was a fool's errand.

What was more, he had exactly zero desire to talk to Umber about anything, ever. The two of them were not what Quartz would categorize as the best of friends.

He couldn't say that, though. Quartz was sure Schörl wouldn't approve of him revealing any dissent in their ranks to someone who was an enemy without very good reason.

"I'll reach out to the man you suggested," he said with a bright smile. "Aurostibite. If he's who you trust, I'm sure I'll benefit from making his acquaintance."

If Umber was on fire, I wouldn't even waste my time pissing on him. Passing this ridiculous written alliance busywork on Aurostibite is the better idea.

"Who's in the position to make decisions like this on your side?"