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 Posted: Fri Jul 09, 2021 8:25 am
Once he irritably dismissed the lieutenant for his five-days-late paper notifications, Faustite pawed through the lot using the butt of his pen. None were enveloped — it would be too much to open them without burning them — but each could be carefully chopsticked open without creating more kindling of them. As usual, the lieutenant left with a snide comment about using his communicator like everyone else, and as usual, he had no viable suggestions for doing so without melting the communicator, or overheating it.
So there Faustite was again. Picking through five-days-old mail with a pair of nib tip pens. Feeling irritated. Feeling all the more like getting these missives at all was a waste of his time.
Until he crossed the last missive. The metal-and-glass office was filled with an explosive <********>.
He stared at it, hoping he misread it, but the words were plain — Super Sailor Nembus has been temporarily reassigned to your tutelage. She is to report to your office, room 430, on July 9th, at 1600. He was getting another subordinate he didn't ask for. The missive was dated the fourth, which explained all the more why it hadn't crossed his purview in time. And now he had to await a new recruit.
In ten minutes. Because Lieutenants couldn't be ******** to deliver interoffice mail on time. "********," he muttered again. Even if he had the access codes to Nembus's file, ten minutes was nowhere near enough time to visit the Database room, harangue a lieutenant into logging in for him, navigate the file, and learn all he could without being late to his own meeting. Ten minutes wasn't enough time to do much of anything to prepare for her arrival but clear off his desk and straighten the room from his last quirky use of it.
Luckily the space wasn't large. The metal, glass-enclosed bookcases behind him were always untouched, as was the metal writing desk on the corner. His desk — a large metal affair with a glass top, and black swaths covering the tops of the cabinetry — was littered with the missives, some draining reports, recon reports on a youma, and unfinished notes on Ganymede. Below that, a paper from Fafnir for how Infiltration would handle his previous mission, and Roselite's typed report for him for archival purposes. Each of these, he chopsticked into one of the top drawers of his desk in no particular order. He would force a Lieutenant to file them later.
That just left the chairs, which were both on their backs, and one was upside-down. Easy enough to grab the metal chairs by their backs and right them, which left him two minutes to consider how he wanted to present himself to this new charge. Maybe he'd look less straight-laced if he sat on the desk…
Desk sitting it was. Faustite hoisted himself atop the thing, crossed his legs, and though one last <********> before she arrived.
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Posted: Fri Jul 09, 2021 2:52 pm
The missive felt like a cosmic joke. Due to a lack of recent communications from your current general, we have temporarily reassigned you. You are to report to General Faustite's office, room 430, on July 9th, at 1600.Reassigned. The words banged around in her head for what felt like hours as Nembus quickly opted to power down and opted to attempt to process the potential results and consequences of the sort. Reassigned. It had been easy enough to excuse her quotas and her missions when there was no one to chase her down about them, but now she was to answer to someone. Reassigned. It had been easy enough to pretend that perhaps she wasn't even a senshi and just not power up for weeks at a time when there wasn't someone breathing down her neck. In some ways, General Marcasite's general distance had been something akin to a final gift; she left Nembus to herself and Nembus had been allowed to drift. Drifting was so much harder when there was someone who would know everything about her, who would know she had nothing and hardly felt like a person most of the time, who would know she was slacking and who would know she had been slacking and who would know she mysteriously only had the energy to turn in at the same time she seemed to opt to steal -- though perhaps that was something they wouldn't know, she didn't know. Perhaps her new general was oblivious, but nothing she found in the databases would back that up; Faustite hadn't the time to do his own research, but Nembus did what she could. General Faustite, a half-youma general, long assigned to the Information Branch -- a different branch than the one she had been originally filed under, Infiltration, but she supposed Information was a logical fit too, at least it wasn't Special Operations -- and also awarded several medals and commendations for his work in missions. Great. That meant he actually would care. The concept of actually having to do anything was nauseating in ways she couldn't describe and she wasn't entirely sure why. She didn't know anything else. She wanted to know everything else. Did she even have the rights to do that when she hadn't had the bravery years ago to just run to Sedna and say that she was going to follow her through the unknown into the arms of Order? What kind of joke was she that she couldn't just either accept a fake life or run into another one? Her stomach dropped through the floor several times in the next few days after that as she considered the consequences, and there might have been a moment a few hours before the appointment she realized there was no way she couldn't keep where she found herself keeled over a toilet bowl. The only relief that came with was that there was nothing else left, nothing left that could have betrayed her when she found herself in the Negaverse, a place that felt like home and a place that felt like terror and dismay all at once. She tried her best to steel herself as she walked through the offices, burying down a dour expression deep inside as she passed by others without offering so much as a greeting besides for a soft, "Sir," when it seemed it was expected. It was nearly the same greeting she would offer Faustite when she knocked gently on his door and walked inside. "General," her voice was a bit stronger than she personally felt, though it was still soft, still carrying the edges of nerves that she couldn't entirely bury under serious expressions and stiff positioning. She wasn't sure what to think of his sitting on the desk. She wasn't sure what else she should have been expecting, considering he was a half-youma. She wasn't sure how half-youma acted. She wasn't sure what was the proper procedure or behaviour-- "I was told I should report here?" She glanced down at her tablet for a moment and blanched when she realized it was, in fact, 16:01. "I hope I was not late. My apologies." Strickenized this works great. they both hate this, I love it.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Jul 10, 2021 6:46 am
Faustite looked to her, waited for her to finish speaking. Like Waru, much of what came out of her mouth was pointless.
Her outfit, however — covered in lightning strikes, in purples and deep violets. Hair matched it, which was a pleasant gift from the cosmic tailor. Shocking sphere, then, with a personality that spoke more of plants than lightning's volatility.
Counterpoint: she could be scared. He was on fire, part youma, unpredictable at times.
"Relax, don't care for formalities. They waste too much time." Turning on the edge of his desk, he placed a boot on the front of one of the chairs and pushed it toward her. They were metal, uncomfortable things, but they didn't catch fire. Dependable for that. "Sit.
"Haven't had a chance to look at your file. Interoffice mail delays." Faustite sucked his teeth. He leaned forward, rested crossed forearms on a heightened knee. "Tell me about your history. How you started, your branch, what your General had you doing, how you promoted…" Faustite wheeled a hand through the air. "Leave nothing out. Need to know you if I'm going to support you."
That included her human side, but they would deal with that later.seiana_zi yaassss he's just like sigh, stop giving me humans
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Posted: Sat Jul 10, 2021 7:43 pm
Relaxing. Not something Nembus knew that she was capable of, but she supposed she had been ordered to, so she had better figure it out. This general was decorated. Perhaps far more serious than she was used to. She doubted there would be moments of powering down to head to a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant with this particular general. Could he even power down? His entire gut appeared to be on fire. It was a little unnerving. It was also fascinating in the way that Nembus had never seen one, and things she never seen had always drawn in her curiosity. Of course, there were a lot of things she had never seen. "Ah, yessir," she replied, sitting in the chair, folding her hands in her lap and trying her very best to not look like a terrified fish out of water. Somehow, hearing that he hadn't read her file had been a relief. Hearing what he wanted to know about her, though, made it the opposite of relief. The terror settled into her bones again and she found herself desperately relieved there was nothing to show for it in her mouth. She couldn't make her history sound too narrow or he might be suspicious. She couldn't expound on her history too much or he'd find out. She couldn't gloss over details and she couldn't really -- at least he offered to support her, which she guessed matched up with Marcasite's vibes, but it would really be better if she had just been left alone and allowed to continue to drift and ponder and angst and wish she didn't exist and think about the words Kurma had said and-- "Super Sailor Nembus, Infiltration Branch. Under General Marcasite. She had me assigned to work in her media company, Argent Industries. I was a secretary. I have gone to Destiny City University in pursuit of a communications degree to make me more useful in that field; with the degree now, the plan had been to start creating," she squinted, "a fashion line to dip our toes into the trendy fashion world, I believe." Nembus blanched when she realized saying I believe probably wouldn't be good enough for a decorated general. She desperately wanted to stop talking. She desperately wanted to run away. She gulped it down and continued on anyway. "Don't know how I started being a senshi." Your star cries too. It misses you. "I was corrupted in 2018. Only remember my birthday and my name." And a few other things, supplemented by others. Had been an enemy of Marcasite. Had her own team. "Promoted in late February, 2019, after involvement with a few missions. Anthemusa, the convention. Reporting on and being involved in the events surrounding being sucked into a series of ship bottles in 2018. Information gathering on the strange events that tend to happen around here in the winter. Nothing major, but it all added up. She submitted the paperwork and I was promoted." Had she gotten that out without stuttering or making herself look like too much of a damned slacker? Strickenized meanwhile she's like: ugh I don't want to deal with this stop assigning me to humans
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Jul 10, 2021 8:08 pm
Never one to idle, he opened one of his desk drawers while she spoke. Poked around, used the tips of his long nails to pluck out an unburnt piece of paper and set it on the desk next to him. Seized a nib pen, leaned over it, started to write in the strange flicks and scribbles that composed shorthand. He did not look up at her as he wrote.
His pen paused when she stopped speaking. He waited, let silence fill their roles for a spell. Then he prompted, "Tell me about 2020, and 2021." Which he shouldn't have to say, he supposed.
His knowledge of Nembus was beginning to coalesce. She was obedient, she stared, she touched nothing and looked at nothing. She was scared. She must have assumed that any move was the wrong move, because even the most skittish Lieutenants — Roselite, for example — looked about his office some. Her only mention of her civilian life was her degree, which she connected to the Negaverse. She hadn't so much as supplied a name, despite his asking. The task assigned to her by her General must have been left to rot so long that she'd forgotten it, or she found it too dull to commit to memory.
She did not start on this end of the war, else she would remember how she started as a senshi. He worked his jaw back and forth. This one was too much like Cybele already.
He looked at her, scrutinized her. Didn't look dead-eyed, but didn't look hale, either. He could read a person, Schörl ensured that, but he didn't know how to deal with what he read. He still hadn't understood what feeling alive meant, and if a lack of aliveness was a widespread plague to all senshi who were corrupted from the White Moon.
"Need your plainclothes side, too." His attention returned to the paper, cindercraft thing still poised above it like an arc of smoke. "How much you have you developed since your corruption?"seiana_zi the amount of resigned distress that is in this thread
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Posted: Sat Jul 10, 2021 10:53 pm
Her eyes wandered for one moment though her head did not, and one moment only, watching his mannerisms as he pulled out the paper and started taking diligent notes. She couldn't understand it if she tried. It didn't matter. He was a general of information. Of course, he was going to take notes on every word she said without her being able to understand a word of it. It was the only thing that made sense. Her gaze stayed focused on Faustite from there on out. Tell me about 2020, and 2021. There was a moment where she felt her breath catch in her throat; she tried her best to breathe evenly and normally like the event hadn't occurred, her fingers playing for a moment in her lap against her skirts. Those years were mixed up in more confusion than she felt comfortable admitting. As she lost contact with her team and then her general, she had started retreating into herself. As she found herself unable to reach out to Sedna, she had curled further into herself. When she found Phaethon, there had been a moment of amusement, a moment of light; with Kurma came a bright spot and deep sadness she couldn't explain to him. None of those were people she wanted to name to her apparent new general. "I finished my communications degree as originally directed." That sounded pathetic. She needed more words. She knew the job of Infiltration was to seep into society in every corner as civilians, and perhaps a lack of involvement in missions would match up with that -- "The last year of my degree took away much of my involvement in day-to-day missions of the Negaverse. I do apologize for that." Did she? "I also lost contact with my general in that time, as well as my former team." She felt like Faustite was studying her like she was a particularly interesting specimen; it made her feel read and also like she was on display. Super Sailor Nembus remained in one spot, despite, attempting to put on a practiced face of stability and confidence even though every little fidget and the way she refused to observe much just made it more obvious she was afraid. "I was recently involved in the battle with the," she squinted, "I'm sorry, I'm not certain how to describe it -- Wispzilla?" She cleared her throat. She had found an item of some sort, afterward, an odd glass stone with one of the wisps floating around inside. She wouldn't bring that up unless pressed. Didn't want to bring up her civilian life either. Meant that it would be easier for them to track her. Meant it would be easier for them to notice if she disappeared -- who was she kidding? They knew everything about her. They owned her whole life. They likely knew more about her than she knew about herself -- "Civilian life is Delilah Diana Samson. I'm twenty-three," apparently, "and live in the apartment complex where Jade," she paused, clarified, "my general, lived. As far as developing me -- I read everything I can, try on everything I can, go to every restaurant I can," for all of Albite's rambling, that Javanese restaurant had been very tasty, "I regularly do deep dives on the internet to find out everything I can about a topic," no doubt all skills that would have been useful to someone in Information, she supposed. "Try to give me something to define myself." The half-baked being that called herself Delilah desperately wanted to feel normal. Strickenized feel bad for both of them honestly
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Jul 13, 2021 6:38 am
It was strange, the way she treated his questions. Treated them like each one had to tie back to the Negaverse, or that only the information that had directly to do with the Negaverse was important. Like all parts of her had to be Negaverse-approved, Negaverse-derived, and Negaverse-useful. He wondered, then, about her General. Marcasite, they had said — he never met a Marcasite. But Nembus joined only a year and some change after he did; Marcasite would've been a General by then, too. Strange that she left her so… skittish.
If he was older before he youmafied, he wondered if he would've had the experience to compare her mannerisms to a job interview. He'd only heard about them from his brother — how it was all a race of tongues, chasing up each other's backsides with argent words of how they would eat, breathe, and sleep the company. She was a touch like that, a touch statuesque.
"Lost contact with your team — in 2020?" The missive hadn't been clear on Marcasite's assignments. Being rank adjacent, that was need-to-know for Faustite, and had no bearing on his new subordinate's continued training.
If she dared to look about, she would have seen more of the same wisps — two shut behind separate metal bookshelves, bobbing about and pressing against the glass covering. On the glass cover furthest from Faustite, someone had written in wet-erase black marker, "Albite's wisp". The handwriting was severe, made of long and lengthy cuts, capital letters looming over lower case.
His writing paused; he needed to explain himself to this one, much as he was naturally averse to it. Schörl would laugh at him, but he wondered if it was truly a bad idea. Wondered if he disliked explaining himself because his General unfailingly picked it apart.
"Roughly a year ago, a White Moon Eternal named Cybele was corrupted into the Negaverse. Served under Sylvite — served very well. Did everything you could ask. Polite, gave tours in the Barracks, fought in operations, followed every order to the letter. She met one of her ex-allies during an operation and purified shortly after — weeks ago. She was with us for eight months.
"She left because, when she saw Princess Ganymede, she remembered a feeling of aliveness. She left because of the possibility of friendship. She left because she hated being treated like an acquisition. She was my second experience with a White Moon senshi corrupted into the Negaverse."
He shifted, set the pen aside, pushed the papers away with the tip of his nail. Faustite scooted to the front of his desk, crossed his arms over his knees, leaned on his elbows. "First ex-White Moon was a similar story, though he didn't know it. Remembered his family, his friends, his whole life as a person. Saw corruption as a loss of everything he knew — kept staring at the shut door of his old life, didn't realize another door had opened. Think he killed himself," Faustite finished, a subtle warble to his tenor voice.
"But what does that have to do with you." He laced his fingers together, thumbs petting nail against nail. "Think you're in a precarious place, Delilah. Living around the absence of your General. Can only guess that you like food and clothes, but those are hobbies at best. You mention no friends. You look things up on the internet instead of experiencing them. There's no you because you spent so much time on the Negaverse, for the Negaverse." Familiar words to be passing down, he knew.
"Your career's fine, but you sound like you're existing. Need something to look forward to, need friends."
seiana_zi it's not getting any better for either of them rofl
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Posted: Tue Jul 13, 2021 8:29 pm
"Somewhere around then, yes." In truth, the way that they started disappearing made it hard for her to put a pin on exactly what day she had lost contact with each one. "Team wasn't just me and Marcasite. Also consisted of," she paused and counted on her hands as she made sure to actively recall each name, "Datolite, Jadarite, Meionite, Rhodonite, Tantalite, and Tyrolite." She was fairly certain she had seen Jadarite's name, somewhere. She had no idea what happened to the others. She wondered, in theory, if being the highest-ranked person on her former team with Marcasite not present made her their theoretical leader; Nembus quickly decided that wasn't worth pondering over any further because the idea of leading anyone, especially here, made her feel nauseous. Wasn't sure if it was a residual side effect of the faintest memories of her old life or if she was just a bundle of shattered nerves so frayed that the concept of being anyone's upper management felt more like a bad joke than anything. Not worth pondering over any further. She had new management, at least for now. ... Cybele immediately sparked curiosity in her, and she tried her best to bury that out of her expression. Cybele deeply reminded her of someone else. Sailor Stillwaterite. Dedicated to their mission like nearly no one else she had ever met. Slowly began to realize that the mission was not her mission. Slowly began to realize that she had been forced into the mission by someone who she thought was very close. Left. Rejoined the White Moon. She left because she hated being treated like an acquisition. The first saw corruption as a loss of everything he knew. Remembered too much of his old life. Focused too hard on his old life. Nembus focused too hard on her old life, too, but it was mostly in desperation for meaning and understanding; there was nothing there, as much as the occasional dream taunted her and told her there was; no amount of dreaming could make the parents she still saw in her dreams a couple of years removed from that wishing tree any more real. Couldn't take it anymore. Nembus identified with that, too. She both flushed and became pallid all at once when her lack of existence was brought out into the frontlines; she had no words to defend herself because Faustite had read her perfectly. So were the words of an Information general, and so she wondered if this reassignment had been purposeful. Had the Negaverse noticed she was drifting? Had the Negaverse realized that she was someone who could use a reassignment under someone who had lost corrupted senshi and perhaps could force them to stay before? Perhaps could convince them to stay? Perhaps show them that their new life was worth something and to not throw it away when the lack of understanding became too painful and deep? Everything tore at her and she swallowed because she knew she had to respond, even if she no longer could quite keep her eyes on Faustite. They wandered to the wisps on the wall. ... Albite. No <********> way. If she didn't believe the Negaverse had eyes on her the whole time-- "That's because I don't really have friends," was her quiet, nearly honest admittance. It wasn't entirely true, but what was she supposed to tell him about Kurma? What was she supposed to say to him about Phaethon? "You're right. Everything I've done since I've woken up has been for the Negaverse and filling in holes in my existence. Woke up missing twenty years of my life." Nineteen? She didn't know. Everything felt like a blur at this point. Everything felt too mind-bogglingly slow. "Is there something you'd like me to do?" She paused, and added, wryly, "I suppose asking my general what I'm supposed to do only reinforces I do everything for the Negaverse." She blanched, again. Was that too bold? She didn't know how to behave. He was being honest. It felt odd. It felt familiar in the way Marcasite had been familiar. It also felt dangerous. Couldn't let herself get too comfortable. But would that be entirely a bad thing? Strickenizex nembus is just probably teetering on the edge of a panic attack it's fine
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Jul 14, 2021 4:26 pm
His brows lofted with that question. A logical question in some ways — a subordinate should always look to their superior for guidance — but an audacious question in others.
"Easier to answer that were I human," he admitted Knuckles curled against his hip, flamesparked gaze cast about for thought. "Going to have you check in with someone else." But who? Sylvite was the obvious choice, but she was made at him for Cybele's abrupt vanishing act. Benitoite was a lawless traitor in all but name. His General was gone, Kamacite wasn't much for friends (and was skittish about him now more than ever), and few others had shown him any particular friendliness. He wasn't sociable, being just as alone and isolated as Nembus. Difference was, he could remember most of his twenty years.
There were the wisps, but having her spend time with those was —
"Albite." That one would chew through an inch-thick piece of leather to keep talking. "He's sociable enough to start. Senshi of Retribution. Tall, long dreads, not much for clothes. Met him?" He'd show her the database image, but the tablet overheated habitually.
Braindead as Albite was, though, he imagined he'd need someone astute at reading people. Knew none but himself, which brought with it a quandary: Eion wasn't human, wasn't a person, and had no business teaching anyone about themselves. Worse was the thought of both of them going out, trying to be people, sticking out for their complete lack of customs, accidentally breaking the law, accidentally getting noticed for everything they didn't know about life.
What a ******** predicament. He was going to murder the sot who reassigned her. Melt their ******** face and eat it like a burger.seiana_zi imagining them trying to do normal people things and failing miserably but laughing about it gives me life
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Posted: Wed Jul 14, 2021 7:54 pm
Nembus couldn't quite tell if the way he rose his brows at her was a good or a bad thing; of course, Nembus wasn't exactly the best at reading people in her own opinion; while she had become hyper-observant over her few years of life, there were still ticks that she just lacked the context for. "I sympathize," she murmured, quietly, with Faustite's acknowledgment that he didn't see himself as human. She supposed the burning fire in his gut canceled the humanity out so far as most saw it, but the way he leveled with her made her feel like she was speaking to someone more human than the people just going through life she interacted with on an occasional basis. Was it an illusion of him being in Information? Had he taken some hints from the generals of Infiltration? Did she seem like the type he could level with by appealing to her same sense of lack-of-humanity? Or perhaps it was because they both understood what being removed from humanity was like. She didn't know if being a half-youma came with the same kind of memory loss that being a forced corruption came with, but it left a gaping hole all the same. Hers was in her mind, his was filled with fire in his stomach. This really did feel like a cosmic joke. Which of her superiors had decided this pair was a good idea? Which of her superiors had decided she needed to be reassigned at all? Stars above, Metallia be damned, she thought, at that moment, that someone was truly conspiring against her. Perhaps she was a more obvious defection risk than she thought. How could the pieces fall so perfectly in place? "I've definitely met Albite." Something in her tone was a bit wry. Nembus couldn't tell if she was relaxing or just resigned. Perhaps both and everything all at once. "He suggested I bring my general to a Javanese place he showed me. Good food. But ah," she rubbed her neck, "didn't realize I'd get reassigned to his general. Suppose you've probably already been there." And to be honest, she wasn't sure she was the one who should have been dragging Faustite around town anywhere. That'd be a mess. "Also accosted me with a bunch of questions about senshi. Didn't seem to know we needed guardian cats for our promotions," and didn't understand why they couldn't go to space, and didn't understand why he couldn't just convince some cosmic force to send him to space; he felt like a prime candidate for ascension which was why she refused to bring it up. She supposed being in this position meant she could be forced to bring it up, and the concept of that made some nausea come roaring back. She swallowed it down and focused that energy on keeping her eyes on her apparent general. Strickenized honestly that'd be glorious. neither of them can people well.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jul 16, 2021 4:58 pm
Faustite shook his head at her mention of a Javanese place. Didn't know what Javanese food was, either. Never got that far in his cutshort teenage years of angst and moneyed boredom. "Don't go much of anywhere. Can't 'power down' like you can. Good that you know him," he reached for his pen again, "convenient."
Of course, it left him wondering when Albite was going to tell him that he met a fellow Negaverse senshi and took her to dinner at a Javanese restaurant. Even if there was no personal connection present, that information was pertinent to know for an Information General. Found out about it anyway — still, frustrating that it had to be by accident. His subordinates (damn that it's a plural now) likely knew each other better than he knew them.
Not that there was much to knowing Albite.
"He's a kinesthetic learner." On his half-fiinished page, he hotted down Nembus's commentary in shorthand. "Won't seek out, won't retain anything without a personal motivation. Might ask you more questions, now that you're under the same…" He didn't want to say person, but to refer to himself by rank felt equally skewed.
"You realize this makes you his superior." Pen down again, he looked back at her.
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Posted: Fri Jul 16, 2021 7:03 pm
Faustite hadn't had a chance to read much of her dossier, she remembered, when he mentioned that her knowledge of Albite was convenient. She agreed. Too convenient. Who had been watching her? Who had been stalking her? Had they been watching her the whole time and decided to put her under Faustite's command to keep a better eye on her and to maybe give her something more to tie her to the Negaverse? Nembus wasn't really sure how valuable she was to them, but of course, they hadn't made her youma food just yet, so she had to be useful to some capacity. She guessed. Maybe. "He actually took me to the Javanese place specifically because the owner doesn't care, so long as we pay," of course, Faustite's situation was a bit different than people with absurdly long hair and chest holes, she supposed. For one, he had a whole abdomen hole. Filled with fire. That was probably a bit hard to not get stares for even in places that didn't care-- Kinesthetic learner seemed to track with how many times Nembus found herself repeating herself in different fashions -- no, the Negaverse senshi can't just go to space, yes, the other side can go to space, no, there wasn't some secret that would fix that-- The concept of being asked more questions drew a wince, the concept of being someone else's superior drew a larger ******** didn't want to be responsible for anyone. She could hardly be responsible for herself. Nembus hardly knew how to tie her shoes when she had reawoke. The concept of keeping an eye on anyone else was nauseating. The hell use would she be? Nembus was stuck in a tug-o-war of meaninglessness and the urge to be helpful, humanity and inhumanity, life and the futility of trying -- the concept of having to guide anyone else through the Negaverse when she couldn't even figure out how to live with who she was or wasn't or if she should try a different approach or if that different approach was even worthwhile -- she found herself, for the first time, looking down at her hands instead of at Faustite or the spare glance at other things in the office. "Guess I am." Felt sour in her mouth. "Never had any underlings, admittedly." Or if she did, she had neglected them. "Not really sure what I'm supposed to do with them." Probably had gotten herself promoted beyond her use.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Jul 17, 2021 2:50 pm
The Javanese place may not have cared about powered individuals who could sit quietly and pay their bills, but Faustite expected it to care very much about a prospective customer who could burn the place down as a walking fire hazard. Nice of her to try — polite — but Faustite knew he wouldn't be spending much time at any restaurants, not while on fire.
"Surprising." That she didn't have any underlings. Faustite noted that down, too; he wondered if Marcasite saw her unfit for command, or if she didn't have any Basics or Lieutenants to place under Nembus. Faustite could understand the former; every time he looked at her, he saw abject fear. And she didn't exactly disguise her disappointment to hear that Albite was, by all rights, her subordinate now. "Most Supers and Captains gain some subordinates. Learn to start commanding rank, then ask questions of their Generals and Eternals to fine-tune that command." He assumed she knew this. He expected that to be information reiterated, especially if it had been so long since she became a Super.
"You would have a hand in his development." Faustite retired the pen, slid off his desk. Going around the side of it, he popped open a drawer, licked his fingers, and rummaged inside. He pulled a single manila file, quite slim still, and left it on the desk as he shut the drawer. Licking his fingers again, he picked it up and handed it to her. The file suffered some browned marks where it was touched, but was otherwise pristine.
Inside was printed information about Albite, and Faustite's plans for Albite's growth, though most of them were shorthand.
"Half your job's been done for you." He rested a hand on the metal backing of the chair as he leaned over her. A clawed finger pointed at a handful of notes. "He's strong, dense, and charismatic. Dedicated to the cause, never missed a quota. Assessed his fighting — he's had experience, knows how to adapt to his enemy. Could go two ways: Infiltration for his charisma, SpecOps for muscle and obedience.
"I set him on the path. You help him get there." Faustite straightened.
"Understood?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 17, 2021 5:11 pm
Where was her escape hatch? Was it like a video game? Could she find some magic rope that would take her out of this office and reset her entire situation? Perhaps she could just reset all the way back to 2018 and try again before she was apparently expected to have some kind of power structure. Nembus didn't want anyone to pay that much attention to her. She didn't want anyone to look to her for anything resembling any level of advice. Would Albite even listen to her? The fact that Faustite said that the fact she didn't have underlings was surprising was concerning. He was writing more. Good thing. Bad thing? Probably a bad thing. He was explaining how command worked. Definitely a bad thing. Had Marcasite done something wrong? Had Nembus done something wrong to cause Marcasite to do something wrong? "Marcasite wanted me to focus on my public projects." offered Nembus, rubbing her shoulder and hoping that Faustite didn't look on her worse just because of what she had been intended -- why did she care? She watched Faustite as he went to the desk, noticing how he withdrew the manila file, how he licked his fingers every time before he handled the paper, how the file seemed to have some small burn marks but nothing else to speak for the fact he touched it -- though perhaps that had been why he had licked his fingers. Nembus opened the file. Albite. Notes about him. Printed notes, and then some shorthand she had hardly a chance of understanding. She realized, quickly, that Faustite definitely was beginning the start of a manila file for her. That was probably bad. She wouldn't say anything about it. "He doesn't seem a good fit for Info," she noted, quietly, as she read over the printed notes Faustite had given her. "He seems to know a lot of people. That could make him a good fit for Infiltration. Haven't seen him fight, but I've only met him once." But he definitely seemed strong. Looked it. Could be argued to be one of those types with a lot of muscle and very little book smarts. Lots of charm, at least. When he wasn't afraid of cats. Speaking of that. She should probably answer Faustite. Also, "Got it. I think." Hopefully. She tapped her finger to her lips. "He doesn't seem to like guardian cats, by the way. If we ever want him to upgrade, we're probably going to have to ease that a bit." Hopefully, he'd upgrade quickly and stop being her problem.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Jul 21, 2021 4:14 pm
"Hierarchy must be different for Infiltration, then." Or her superior didn't know what she was doing. By his experience with the Negaverse, the latter was more likely. Faustite would pretend to give the benefit of the doubt, however; best not to offend this one before their work relationship began.
Faustite scoffed, almost smiling, at her remark. "Terrible for Information," he concurred. Doubted Albite knew enough about himself to make a database entry; it would be a regular nightmare to teach the boy how to gather info on others appropriately. Better to let him languish in General if that were his only option.
He was interested in her opinion based on her infiltration experience; she hadn't volunteered much, however. Knowing people was helpful, he supposed, but at least with information, how one used those connections mattered even more. He understood the branch on a superficial level, but little more than that; a half-youma had no place in their front-facing ranks, and the few he met were loathe to share details concerning their daily operations. Perhaps Nembus would humor him on that, in time.
"Anyone can be trained to fight." He leaned his weight atop the back of the chair. "'Kinesthetic learner' gives me the idea. Would take quickest to combat, I think. Follows orders well enough. No need to think, only to do. Looks sturdy enough for it." Good qualities to start, he thought.
"Most senshi get two promotions. Better to desensitize him for missions." Albite may attend a handful more of those than he would promote. "Can you work with him on it?" Nembus would be better suited than him.
That wouldn't help much with her predicament, though. She could see the basics in Albite, at least; observing her observing him would lend more insight into her demeanor. Into who Delilah was, even if she didn't know, herself.
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