ximilialog | [OPEN] El destierro es redondo

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[OPEN] El destierro es redondo

CHARACTERS: Rosinante and OPEN
LOCATION: Around, especially the simulation room
DATE: Within a few days of returning to the station
CONTENT: Catchall post-mission, plus the promised ship tour
WARNINGS: n/a

1. The night comes, your stars are missing

So they return again without time to even think about what they did. The mission was a success, and it had its costs, but they always do, don't they? That's simply the way of these things, because nothing is gained without a few things lost along the way. Rosinante was again prepared to kill if he had to in order to get that orb, but he's again grateful he didn't have to. Still, they left after toppling one of the largest forces in Braccia and nature always abhors a vacuum. He has little sympathy for the families, but he knows how those people work. They will fight each other to re-establish order and power among them, and innocent lives will be caught in the crossfire.

These are the thoughts that plague him while he sits in the sunlight room with a cup of tea between his hands, or while he peers out a window at the black void beyond the station. His injuries are cleaned and cared for, he's promised to Sabriel that he'll take it easy, and so he's left with little to do but think and wander and clean his pistol, and imagine that maybe next year, around this time, he and Law can celebrate the kid's birthday together rather than apart.

He's not much for conversation, but he's around if anyone needs him.

((Hey folks, consider this a catchall/wildcard option. Need to talk specifics? Hit me up at

tinylongwing))

2. Ship tours

After taking a few days to rest up, bring up some concerns with Viveca, and toy with the simulation room's visuals to make sure it gets everything right, Rosinante puts out a short mention on the network that, as promised, he's got a tour of a sailing ship available for anyone who wants to come see one.

They'll enter to a long pier that stretches from a metal and wood platform in deep water. The landmass that must lie behind is obscured by clouds, but ahead, a ramp leads from the pier up to the top deck of an utterly immense sailing ship that looks large enough to carry a small city's worth of people. For any familiar with Earth's older ships, it might bring to mind a ship-of-the-line, right out of the eighteenth century, with its towering masts and arrays of cannons. The sails are furled while the ship rests anchored at the pier, but even so, the blue and white of the Marine insignia emblazoned on them is visible.

Such a massive ship easily dwarfs Rosinante, even with his height, but still, his silhouette is visible at a distance against the tower in the center of the upper deck where he's made himself comfortable. Should you make your way onto the ship, he'll meet you at the top of the ramp with a wave.

"Can't say I'm much of a tour guide," he admits with a smile, "But I'll do my best. Ever been on a sailing ship before?"

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The cost...

Beyond the waves of hostility that came up when the speakeasy's ruse was revealed, Blue had little chance to engage; just trying to stay alive when aggressors came for him was trial enough. After that, he was barely conscious and wholly unaware of what followed, and he's convinced the only reason he is back here at all is because of James and Finn. Otherwise, maybe he'd be more acquainted with the aftermath.

Was it worth the effort? he wonders. He knows how strongly Sabriel feels about it, but it's not a conviction he's found shared among others. Unity seems to come through greatest for the sake of survival, but the rest...?

"I hope so. Viveca seems to think it is. The way she talks about the orbs, we're doing the whole universe a favor, ultimately."

Now, he has his doubts about Viveca, that's for sure. But after what Yzak said, it may not be her fault. If she's just programmed to say certain things, or not say other things, then she's not the one trying to mislead them, but rather the Commander. And maybe both of them are being perfectly honest. Too early to tell, but he'll continue to try and judge from their words and actions until he has a better sense of what's what.

"It's just the nature of things, unfortunately. Sometimes people suffer as a result of doing the right thing for everyone," he says, casting a frown at his cigarette as he takes it between his fingers.

It's uncomfortably heartening to sense echoes of the kinds of doubts Blue himself harbors; it validates his unconscious biases to some degree, and provides a bit of consolation for the fears he can't shake. There's no relaxing here on this station, no more than there was in the swirling, confusing web of minds in Braccia. It's just a different state of unease, a different frequency.

Without realizing it, the specter's brow furrows with doubt at Vivica seems to think. She's...a machine. Whatever she thinks was preconstructed, or at the very least, she was coded to come to such conclusions based on the will of whoever built her. Her speculations...or what she offers as speculations...those are inherently dangerous, aren't they?

They must be. It's what makes most sense to him.

I know what it looks like when humans choose to follow the pathways that their machines and constructs build for them, he says at length. And what it can twist 'the right thing' into.

I'm not sure...it will be wise to take this Vivica construct entirely at her word.

"Didn't say I was," he replies with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know much about AI, I'll admit, other than what people here told me. But the things she says, they were programmed by a human, right? Someone either honestly thought the things she repeats, or wanted to tell us those things for other reasons. Or, maybe she is capable of her own thoughts. Just because something's made by a human doesn't make them not a person, right? 'S why they call it artificial intelligence, I'm guessing, and not just another robot."

But, really, what does he know. He's used to wooden ships, ink and quill, telepathic snails and fruits that modify lineage factors. All things foreign and far behind to most everyone here, from what he's gathered. To their credit, they treat him as an equal, when they're not busy being surprised by his height, or the things he's never seen before.

Blue's head shakes, expression rueful.

Even if that is so...it doesn't bode well. And she...doesn't answer every concern about this circumstance, does she?

All the more reason to doubt.

"No. So all we can go off of are the things she's been allowed to tell us," he replies. "I know. It's not ideal, and I've been bothering her with questions since I got here. Sounds like you know a fair bit more about the normal situation with AIs than I do, though, so you probably should ask her a few things of your own. See if you can work out how she ticks."

Which is the polite and tactful way of saying he doesn't have much more to offer on that topic. It's true that it bothers him and it's absolutely, always always true that he has his doubts about most people he ever talks to, AI or otherwise. He's judging the situation critically, but he's also just struggling to keep on top of every new piece of information that the rest take for granted, seeing as how they all seem to think they're hundreds of years ahead of him. Sometimes a guy just needs to sit in the sun with some grass and trees, clean a pistol and not think about things like space and robots and orbs. He looks down at the gun and the cloth, then picks them back up. Figures he can keep working while talking.

"What's your name, by the way? I must've missed it," he says.

Funny how such turns of phrase blended with their intent can create the kinds of things Blue can sense: They're not words or feelings with solidity, not really, so it's not like one can simply say it's as though a door were being shut, but the description is as close as one can get without having the sense for themselves.

So that 'door,' as it were, is gently closed. Blue turns his head away, his gaze finding nothing ahead of him. Can't really 'see' in this space as he is - he needs to see through the eyes of others present to fully realize it.

At the prompting, his head lifts a little bit, but his eyes are still fixed askance.

Blue, he replies. I'm called Blue.

"All right, then, Blue. Nice to meet you, even if it's in circumstances like this where you're stuck recovering. I'm Rosinante. Got here with the first wave of people they brought in a handful of months ago."

And it sure has been a busy time since then. One thing after another, always thinking, always moving. It's why moments like these when he can just sit and toy with his pistol feel so relaxing.

"What's it like where you're from? Anything like this place?"

Blue's eyes return to the man.

Beyond being in space, there is nothing familiar about this station. The layout, the people within, the objective at-large... He shakes his head.

It's taken some time...to be certain I wasn't asleep. Or subjected to a psychological probe.

With the way this Rosinante-person spoke of the AI, Blue can only assume there'd be no good in expanding on it. Not for his sake.

But I understand it's not a dream. Even if I don't wholly know...what I'm meant to do here, I won't...be idle.

No more than his body will subject him to be.

His gaze moves again.

I mean to reach the commander of this vessel. Somehow. That's the only person who has more definitive answers, yes?

"Yeah. Good luck, though. I'm not saying that to be rude, but it's really hard to figure out how to talk to him. Again, Viveca hasn't been all that helpful. Far as I know, he spends his whole time in the north wing with the orbs, if that helps any."

And really, he truly wishes Blue luck, because someone needs to tear that guy away from his work so he can talk to them. There are too many questions still unanswered and it would be nice to hear from a point of view beside Viveca, just in case that perspective is more helpful somehow.

The north... Blue files that away for later. He'll need to physically get there himself, lest he wind up having to trace the trails of others who maybe already wandered there themselves.

...Unless this commander has a distinct pattern of thought he can already perceive. So far, it hasn't seemed the case, but Blue does take a moment to turn his head and strain to detect...well...a lot, but not much he can really discern of value.

There's...so many here... His brow furrows. And everyone...was drawn by regret? Is that really true?

"Seems like it. I haven't asked around much, though. Everyone's specific regrets are pretty personal."

Maybe he should start asking a few people, though. The ones he's on better terms with. It's not that he doesn't want to know - of course he does, for he knows the value of personal knowledge when it comes to other people. But he doesn't want to become known as someone who likes to pry. It has to be done delicately if it's to be done at all.

But, here, he's been given an opening.

"I guess you can answer for yourself, right? There's something you regret back home?" he asks, trying to at least be gentle about it. No harm done if Blue doesn't want to give details, seeing as how they've only just met.

Yes.

Despite the sensitive nature of the ask, Blue hardly hesitates to answer.

But the idea that...undoing that one deed could be done at all...without utterly unraveling everything that followed it seems...

Impossible, really. Absurd.

Dangerous.

More than anything, dangerous.

If my heart really did wish that enough to bring me here...if it's wishes that are the draw... Then perhaps we are all of us simply...being controlled by our own weaknesses in a way.

"Sure, but aren't we always? Our weaknesses, our fears, but also our hopes and our aspirations," he says, again forgetting the gun in his hands as he stares out at the sunlit grass. "That's just what life is. If there's something you can change, it'll change things that come after it too, but isn't it worth the chance to make that life, or others' lives, better?"

It's not like he knows the answers, and he shrugs as he looks back over at the ghostly figure. He's not going to let fears of possible futures hold him back when he has an opportunity to fix something that should hopefully provide a better life for countless people, not just him and the person he loves most.

Is it worth that chance? Blue hasn't had even remotely enough time to consider that - too much peril, pain, and momentum to be swept up in. Maybe now there will be some time for that, who knows. He sure doesn't.

This really isn't what he expected to be waiting for him when he opened his arms to fire and death.

The gunman shrugs, and the ghost simply stares into the dark ahead of his perception.

I suppose...I don't know. When my convictions are mine alone...it's not so easy to be sure, is it?

Local psychic starts to feel more human, doesn't think he likes it. More at 11.

"No, maybe not. Maybe if you fix it you'll know for sure, but maybe even then you'll be left wondering. I guess it depends on the nature of whatever it is you think you might have to do. For me, it's worth a try. For you, that's your decision to make."

No matter the outcome, for him it feels like it's his moral obligation to go back, to fix what he overlooked. But every person and every regret of theirs are different, aren't they?

So...your mind is already made up?

The Mu looks over, fixing red eyes on the stranger.

Even after what happened on that planet?

"Of course. Doesn't change a thing."

And why should it? He's seen so much worse at home. Yes, there was a lot of fighting and yes, people died in that building because of their actions, but that was an organized crime gang. They weren't exactly peaceful bystanders, and their grip on the city wasn't likely benefiting anyone but themselves.

He raises an eyebrow at Blue.

"Did it make you doubt if it's worth it to you?" he asks, and he means it mostly a question out of curiosity, but admittedly there's a note of challenge to his voice. How dedicated is he, truly, to righting the wrongs in his own life? It must depend on what it is that he regrets.

Blue smiles a small, rueful smile.

I've had my doubts from the onset. He lifts a hand, resting it over where his heart would be. Because...it seems strange to make such an offer to someone...who should already be dead.

He's heard rumors that there are those here who claim to have died before arrival, but it's all been secondhand, no names mentioned. Rosinante himself knows that he was spared with likely little more than minutes otherwise to live, barring some miracle.

Suppose this is the miracle, then.

But he did survive. He didn't die, and he's determined to make use of the opportunity.

"So, what, you figure that since you ought to have died, there isn't any point? You're alive here. Doesn't that matter more, now?"

That, I don't know. His expression sobers, looking down as he turns his palm up, away from himself.

The path is set...in the hands of those who must lead after me. The future is theirs.

What right do I have to alter their course now? Simply...to assuage my own guilt...

He shakes his head a little as his fingers curl into a weak fist.

One way or another...it doesn't change that I am somehow here. In a new future.

Perhaps...I am meant to look forward in this way. To see...what it could mean to be a Mu who doesn't have to run...or be afraid anymore...

Even if it means running into the unknown.

After a beat, he looks back to the gunman.

Is it strange to think this way?

"Can't say I know. But strange is all right, too. Can't help but be who you are, after all. If this place helps you figure that part of you out, that can only be a good thing."

Know yourself, right? That's something he's gotten good at over the years. He's comfortable being alone (probably more comfortable that way than he should be, in fact) and he's had a lot of time to spend dwelling on the things in his head. Moral, political, and deeply personal concerns that have molded him into the person he is today. And that person is one who refuses to give up when giving up might mean suffering for someone he cares about, and a far-off kingdom he has never visited but the fate of which might rest in changing one little thing about the universe.

Egotistical? Maybe, but he'd prefer to think of it as resolution. Determination that he can make his world a better place, if only he has the chance.

Then...I can only hope there is actually time to spare to figure it out. Before another task is given.

He hesitates, trying to search the recollections of what few interactions he's had so far related to this place. He's pretty sure they're not planned in advance, but he's happy to be corrected on that one.

Thank you...for sharing your thoughts with me. And for not, y'know...trying to use the gun on him at the onset.

"Welcome," he says with a shrug. Not a lot else to do here in between missions beside debate the morality of their choices before getting thrown right back into making them, or at least, that's how it feels sometimes.

"Come see me when you're feeling better. It'd be nice to actually meet you," he adds, smiling a little.

The offer comes as something of a surprise, prompting Blue's head to tilt a bit. It's a nice surprise, at least, though Blue can't help but feel he'd not leave much of a decent impression in person, given his circumstances.

I will try, he assures all the same, bowing his head politely as his image flickers and begins to fade, his mind drifting back to where his body rests, leaving Rosinante in peace.

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[OPEN] El destierro es redondo

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