conjuredskies | The Learned Society of Nexus Geographers

Verity's inside, having claimed a table for them near a sunny window. She's got a very large book beside her, a pitcher of some kind of punch in front of her, and a glass of the same in her hands. She's not hard to spot, which is good since she's not watching the doors: the scene outside the window, of a horse complaining about the quality of the stables (there's a great deal of hoof-stomping), has captured her attention.

The friendly-looking hen at the front desk gives Felix a curious look when he comes in, but doesn't stop him if he goes straight through to the dining room.

He's really relieved that the hen looks friendly because despite forewarning, he nearly double-takes. Felix gives her a polite nod and "Good afternoon," instead. He's trying not to feel self-conscious about the uniform, and surely the giant hen has seen stranger.

He keeps walking, finding Verity and sliding naturally into the seat opposite her. The argument outside doesn't really draw his attention: where there are stables, he knows, there are always grooms and riders arguing about the care their mounts are getting.

"And there you have the reason I walk," he remarks, thus speaking over the horse's next first-person complaint. He gives her a smile. "I have to thank you for the map."

The hen's dealt with worse reactions, so she won't be making too much of a fuss about it and calls out a "Good afternoon dearie," in passing.

"Horses are argumentative where you come from?" Verity turns to Felix with a smile when he sits. "You're welcome. I'm glad it worked. Would you like some sangria?" She nods to the pitcher; there's an empty glass waiting for him. "I'm glad you could come."

"Incredibly," he confirms, though he's not thinking of vocal argument. "Temperamental, contrary, horrendously expensive. Thank you." This last refers to the sangria. He pours a glass and settles back.

"Believe me, I'm glad to be here. Until you came by all I had to look forward to was a few hours of chasing skeevers and trying to stop this armor squeaking." That's not true, but he doesn't even notice, busy pulling a glum face to emphasize his point. He lifts his glass in salute before sipping.

She thinks he's joking, so he gets a sympathetic laugh. (Not a sympathy laugh, that would be different.) "You poor thing. Is the armor really uncomfortable?" She's never worn any, but it doesn't look like a good time to her.

There's a question she has to ask, though: "What's a skeever?"

Verity's sympathy is appreciated. "It wouldn't be so bad if it fit properly. You know, before this I had a properly-fitted set of leathers, carefully broken in over long weeks. I could even sleep in them comfortably. Now I'm getting pinched on all sides every time I move." He sighs, and has a gulp of sangria to ease the pain. It could be worse, of course. At least the uniform has a leather skirt and not, say, leather pants...

As for skeevers, he has to think a moment. "Skeevers are a sort of Northern rodent, about the same size as a dog- do you have rats? They're basically an uglier, skinnier kind of rat."

"That does sound uncomfortable. Hopefully, you can get some that fits properly soon." She's trying not to mention the skirt. Not that there's anything wrong with a man wearing a skirt. But it does amuse her.

"Rats the size of a dog? Ours aren't that big, thank goodness. I'm happy to have spared you." That's a frightening thought. She will surreptitiously draw her feet up onto the rung of her chair. "Since you just got off shift, you must be hungry. Do you want to order a meal before we break out the maps?"

"If you happen to see an armorer around the Nexus, let me know." Between typical tough-warrior dress back home and occasionally winding up in proper mage robes, that's one area where his masculinity is totally secure. He does miss the insulation you get with a good pair of breeches though.

"An excellent plan. Keeping your, er, earlier recommendation in mind of course." But that makes him wonder, if there are chicken-people to beware offending, are there also cow and fish and boar-people to worry about? What is safe to order? He's not used to menus being provided, but hopefully there's one at the table to set him at ease.

"There's a smith down in the commercial district. Don't know how good he is, but it might be worth asking." There may be several smiths, and several more people named Smith. She's glad he's secure in his skirts. He can have them. She's very insecure wearing clothes that might suggest she wants to be looked at.

There's a slate with the day's menu written in colored chalks at the end of the table. Plenty of non-chicken meaty meals. There are even egg dishes--duck eggs. As far as Verity's been able to figure, you just don't ask people for food made out of anything too closely related to them. "I was thinking the shepherd's pie sounds good."

"Thanks. I will." It'll make an interesting diversion, anyway. Getting the run-around in the Nexus at least means plenty of interesting sights.

"They have shepherd's pie here? The real kind?" Felix leans his elbows on the table as he pulls the slate closer. Not all the dishes are recognizable, but the ones he understands look good. "Hmm. Smoked salmon and potato cakes sound delicious too, but I think I've had enough fish for a while... hmm." He pans his gaze down further. "You know, we may have to come back here."

And an excuse to go back on information-gathering expeditions if he writes the report cleverly. General Tullius is going to want in on these strange and deadly new weapons. And he doesn't even know how much he needs an iPod yet, but if ever there was a man who needs a chance to get his groove on it's that Imperial bastard.

"A proper society has regular meetings, right?" She's all smiles at the idea of coming back. Having something to look forward to is extremely valuable to her right now. "And yeah, the real kind. If you're getting that maybe I'll get the braised rabbit. I've never had rabbit before." What his order has to do with hers is anyone's guess. And what kind of a place does she live where they don't have rabbit?

Felix would have to agree with that. After all, any occasion the general has to dance is an occasion that involves hobnobbing. And speeches. Rumor has it Tullius tends to foist them off on the junior-most officer in range so he can get back to glowering at his maps.

"Naturally." He has a cheerful smirk in response to her enthusiasm, even if he misunderstands her reasons. He's just pleased to have hit on an idea she likes, and that she's enjoying his company. "So we'll work our way down the menu next time. That should give me time to find out what some of these words mean."

Hobnobbing and speeches? May the Nine spare them all. But Verity's generally of the opinion that everyone should dance more. And that's not just because she wants to dance more and has nobody to dance with.

They can both enjoy themselves for now and worry about the misunderstandings later. Hopefully, there won't be too many hurt feelings. "We can work our way down the menu this time if you want, but I don't think I could eat that much. What words? I know a lot about cooking, so I might be able to explain." She's pretty certain she can explain, but there's always the chance, in the Nexus, of the foreign words being really foreign.

Perhaps that should be their next order of business: collect enough members to hold a dance in the Nexus. Surely there are others in need of one!

"Let's spare our stomachs, then. Any decent food is going to be enough shock for mine." He turns the slate so he can point out some of the confusing items. "All right. What can you tell me about this 'kethna' they're roasting? Or the... goslingroot... something-something here?"

That's goslingroot tagliatelle with Fenarian mushrooms in pepper sauce. The poor chef is just trying to experiment with the vegetarian options. Felix really doesn't have to act like he suspects the dish will contain eyeballs.

There are autumnal holidays coming up that would be an excellent excuse for a Nexus dance. Just putting that out there.

"Keep taking the border patrol here and I'll make sure you eat well," she promises after a sympathetic tsking. Militaries mistreat their soldiers the same way everywhere it seems. She leans forward to look over the menu with him. "...okay, I don't know what 'kethna' is, but tagliatelle is a ribbon pasta. And goslingroot I'm going to guess is a vegetable? I'll have to find out next time I'm at the market."

The Nexus is often very willing to seize on such things.With or without providing amusing side-effects.

"I can definitely do that," he agrees cheerfully. He won't have any competition for the job. The poor diet is more to be blamed on his funds than his new employers, but he is entirely happy to let her think otherwise. "So long as it is a vegetable goslingroot sounds pleasant enough. But, er, pasta means...?"

Someone will have to organize something.

It's always better to have the sympathy of the pretty girl, isn't it?

"Pasta... you don't... okay. Pasta is a dough that you roll out and cut into shapes, then let it air-dry for a while. When it's firm, you boil it in water. Usually, it's eaten with some kind of sauce, either tomato or cheese-based. I'll get that, so you can try some." Rabbit can wait.

It's one of the very best kinds of sympathy.

"That doesn't sound bad at all. How about I get it, and you stay with the rabbit?" he offers. He's still imagining something like pastry shapes in sauce, but that's not off-putting either. "I can't imagine how you haven't tried that before, unless your world has miniature rabbits too."

Pastry shapes in sauce... that could be a thing. Sort of a savory bread pudding.

"No, we have rabbits, and people used to eat them frequently. They're considered pets now, and too cute to eat, I guess. There are all kinds of things people used to eat that we don't anymore. So, we'll both be brave?" She curls a hand under her chin and leans an elbow on the table. "I mean culinarily."

It could work!

"That seems an appropriate way to begin our meeting, don't you think?" He gives her a curious look for the way she phrases that, but has another sip of sangria and leans back to see if he can attract one of the waiters.

"It does," she agrees with a smile. She doesn't consider herself a brave person, in general, which is what prompted the clarification. He'll have to wonder until he asks because she's not going to admit something like that for just a look.

It's not hard to get one of the waitstaff to come over. There's a slate and a piece of chalk and an expectant look from a chicken person who might be in their teens. (It's always such a hard age.) "Braised rabbit for me, and goslingroot tagliatelle for him, please."

It's probably impolite to ask a lady if she thinks either of them is a coward. He'll need to find an opening for a joke about it.

He manages not to give the avian youngster an obviously curious look. It's not really stranger than the beastfolk at home, he tells himself, and chooses not to think of how a Khajiit might respond to that.

"And whatever you'd recommend to drink with that," he adds cheerfully, since they're being adventurous and he feels he owes his boss a nice plump expense bill.

She'd be so embarrassed if she knew he thought she meant him. She's never been subtle about insults if she felt the need to give one. So that's... sort of a relief?

A Khajiit would probably sniff disdainfully at the fact food is acting like people now and then would stalk off to sulk about it. The waiter makes notes about the order, then taps the chalk on the slate thoughtfully. "We've got a nice Dwarven remembrance ale commemorating the victory at Innspa." A free rummage through the wine cellar is great until the bill comes and people start yelling, so the waiter's going to play it safe.

He's not rushing to assume it, but there's always a possibility. Verity needn't worry: his threshold for offense is high enough to deal amicably with both daedra and elves, after all.

"Dwarven?" That's... really, distractingly interesting. "You don't happen to know where that comes from, do you?"

It's good one of them is patient and understanding. Verity's the sort of person that would cause an international incident if left alone with a Thalmor and would go to the block insisting it was the elf's fault for lying in the first place.

"Glorvardum, sir. Near Sunndi."

Verity doesn't recognize the names, and shrugs. "It sounds good. Thank you." The poor kid's there to take orders, not explain dwarves or geography. Once the waiter's gone she leans forward again. "You like dwarves?"

He's more puzzled than disappointed, and won't hold the waiter up any longer. It takes Verity's question to snap him out of his frown.

"Hm? Oh- no. That is- it's hard to know, seeing as nobody's met one in at least three and a half thousand years." He smiles wryly. "They vanished from our realm very mysteriously. The entire race, gone overnight. If it turns out this is where they strolled off to then it... would be interesting to know, let's say."

"I would think so. There might be something about great dwarven migrations in the Library," she speculates. Now that she knows the reason, she's curious too. "They really just, vanished? And never left any clues, never told anyone? They didn't... die?"

She'd be even more curious about Dwarven ruins. All that steampunk, continuing with maintenance? That'd be very interesting to her.

He nods thoughtfully. "Dwarven migrations. Good thinking. I think I'll have to do a little reconnaissance in that Library soon. As for whether they died, that's a good question. You see, they were incredibly isolated. Secretive- xenophobic, from what I've read. There's a story that they had some kind of great project, but they didn't leave notes for anyone else.

"People have been arguing about what happened to them for centuries. Did they die? Did they activate some device that went horribly wrong? Did they succeed in transporting themselves to some other plane, or turn themselves into aedric spirits and leave Nirn forever? Was it planned at all? Nobody knows. All they left behind were great ruins, underground cities full of deadly traps and steamworks, eternally guarded by their sleepless, deathless automata."

His explanation has her listening carefully, although the more florid his descriptions the more she smiles. The ending flourish gets a snort. "I'm sorry, are you trying to explain history or pitch a movie?"

Oh wait, he doesn't know what movies are. She waves a hand as if to dismiss her comment. "Do the things in their cities still work? That would be impressive. The machinery where I'm from would have worn out or seized up without maintenance."

"I tell it to you as it was told to me," he says solemnly, before the grin returns. "Besides, it's more fun than the other way." You can retell history like some dry academic treatise, but that's not the tradition most people keep in his world.

He lets her mysterious movie comment slide for now, but files it under 'Nexus slang to ask about'. "Oh, they work, all right. Of course you have to assume some of it's doing whatever it's supposed to. But I can promise you the trap mechanisms are still working. Not to mention the guards." He pulls a face. "They have these horrible mechanical spiders with sharpened forelegs and lightning casters. And of course they're armor-plated, so you can't just freeze the gears up."

"Yeah, probably." So long as it all remains accurate. She'd have a few issues with the bards and that whole thing with the book and the festival...

You know what she doesn't love? Spiders. She understands they're good and useful and all that, but she'd prefer they were good and useful away from her. So that gets a shudder. "That sounds horrible. And dangerous." And horribly dangerous, but that would be redundant. "I hope that sort of thing doesn't come up too often? And... they don't... get out?" She is never going to visit Skyrim if there are giant mechanical death spiders roaming around free.

Solution: shake the Dragonborn until all the story options fall out and he admits he made it up.

Oh, Verity doesn't want to know about the spiders in Skyrim. "Luckily, no. They just stay sealed inside their underground cities. So usually the only people they hurt are, you know, adventurers and research expeditions. Unless some mage brings one out to study it, of course. All people who're used to horrible dangers - or ought to be prepared for them, anyway."

Yes. There'd certainly not be any complaints about that. No shouting at all.

No, she doesn't really. Fortunately for her, if she ever goes there, he'll be around to protect her. Otherwise she's going to be forced to let Clint give her archery lessons and nobody wants that. "Yeah, I suppose if you go in voluntarily it's your own fault if something bad happens. I'm just glad they don't know how to get out."

Felix would suggest waiting until everyone's pretty drunk before confronting them. The Thu'um probably doesn't work so well when slurred.

He's sympathetic to anyone who skips out on their archery lessons. And getting pretty adept with killing spiders in his own way. Unless it's one of the really giant ones, then he can always summon something to hide behind. "Of course not. They're still just machines," he says in all blissful ignorance. "They can only do what their masters made them to do. Even if they know the way out, they can't just decide to go nest somewhere new."

That could work. Or it could backfire spectacularly. Either way, sign her up.

"Um. Yeah. About that? Machines can absolutely be or become sentient beings." Because he doesn't have enough problems, right? She's SO HELPFUL. "So let's all just hope that doesn't happen."

Maybe archery lessons aren't such a bad idea... and Clint has learned not to flirt with her...

"What, really?" He blinks, and then frowns in surprise. That's his world expanding subtly but significantly. He might have some trouble getting used to the idea... but the earlier he learns about this stuff, the more embarrassment he's spared.

"Become sentient? How? Do you have to put a- a new soul in the machine?" He's going to avoid specifying a black one; he doesn't know if they have those elsewhere but if you wanted to connect a machine to a sentient mind...

"Oh yeah. It's happened more than once where I'm from." She'll give him all the time he needs to come to terms with the idea. Her gaze drifts around the room, but he might sense her attention is still on him.

"There's different ways I think. Sometimes a soul is put in the machine, sometimes it... sort of accumulates enough experience to become sentient on its own." She pauses for a think and a sip of sangria. "I don't know all the details, people don't usually make the details of that sort of thing public knowledge. Not every machine grows up to play nice with others."

Deep thinking is for later, when he's stuck on the inevitable kitchen patrol. Right now he only chews it over long enough to have another drink.

"Hmm. I suppose mechanical servants and necromantic ones wouldn't be so different, that way." Not a comparison he ought to dwell on, of course, given his next thought. "So your people have animunculi - or something like them, anyway? Less spidery, I assume."

Probably for the best.

"I suppose not. Not many people make the connection between magic and science like that." She's more than a little impressed. "We do. We call them robots. They come in all sorts of shapes, usually task-specific. Some fly, for instance; sometimes they're used to drop explosives on enemies, sometimes people attach cameras and use them for aerial surveillance." Or dumb YouTube videos, but let's let him have some respect for her screwed-up world.

"I hadn't heard they could be separated," he remarks with some puzzlement. Not that the idea of semi-intelligent machines flying around everywhere isn't disconcerting enough. He's a little wide-eyed as she explains: no golem or automaton in his world has ever done that!

"That's amazing, though! And if you use machines as spies, obviously you need them to be clever. But I'm not sure I'd want to build something that could gain a mind of its own and fly off to... I suppose, drop explosives on whatever it liked." That's a lie, so he admits, "At least, it doesn't sound very wise."

"Where I'm from, most people consider magic and science to be two completely separate things. But a lot of them also consider philosophy to be a separate field as well." Which clearly she does not agree with.

He corrected himself, so she'll not point out the lie. "It has its drawbacks. Drones are usually remote-controlled, though, so they don't get to go around doing whatever they want. It's like... if you could see through an eagle's eyes, and tell the eagle where to go."

"That's an odd way of looking at it. I mean, plenty of sciences aren't magical, and vice-versa, but you won't get far in either without the other. And philosophy... that's the root of them both, if you think about it."

He likes the example she uses, and nods enthusiastically. "Oh, I see what you mean. That must make scouting marvelously easy even if you can't scry. Or sending messages, of course, or defending against enemy, erm, drones... wait, how big do you make them?"

"I agree. I guess that as things grew more complicated and distinct, it got harder for people to see how they're all related. Like... it's easy to see how your cousins would be family, but maybe not third cousins twice removed?" She gives a little shrug. She'd like to pursue the conversation more, but he's more interested in drones so it'll wait.

"They come in different sizes I think. There's little ones that don't go far that civilians can buy. I'm guessing the military ones are larger."

"Hmm. That sounds logical, but I have a hard time imagining it. At least, the way I was taught."

As far as drones go, there's one big question on his mind. "Can you make them large enough to carry people?"

"Then you're lucky."

A big question indeed. "Oh, yeah, we have flying machines. Some of them carry dozens of people at a time. They're commonly used as a way to travel long distances. And there are smaller ones that take fewer people but can land in more places. Even individual ones."

He breaks into a delighted grin. "How fantastic! So your people can fly anywhere in your world, wherever they want to visit. Hah, and I thought the Nexus made border controls ridiculous. Have you ever done it- flown on one of the machines?"

"When I was younger. My mom took me on a trip to see, well, the Grand Canyon. Pretty much what it says on the tin. It's a mile deep and a dozen miles across. The flying was fun too."

She's going to be looking into whether they could get a helicopter ride or one of those flying squirrel suits in the Nexus. Seems like it'd be a good Jül present for him.

He'd love that. Although if there's a non-sentient machine involved, she'll have to warn him before he pre-emptively tries to make friends with it. Then again, it might be more amusing not to.

"You weren't afraid to fly out across it?" He looks impressed.

This is officially on The List.

She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh no. The flight was to get to it. It's thousands of miles away from where I grew up. We could see it from the plane when we flew over it though."

"Oh." He's still impressed, though a little disappointed that she didn't get to go flying around a vast canyon. "That's a very long way to travel, especially for a young girl. But... if you trust the machine entirely, of course flying would be much safer than a road."

"I didn't fly it. There are people who do that. They have special training. I was only a passenger." Sorry Felix, she's not half so cool as you want to believe. "I could learn if I wanted, now that I'm an adult. I don't know if anyone around here teaches that kind of thing."

You're just determined to whittle away at your image, Verity. Leave him some illusions.

"I doubt there's anything they don't teach here. Or at least close by. I haven't seen any flying machines yet - perhaps the Nexus is too unstable to risk it. Would you like to learn?"

Honesty is important to her.

"I dunno. It sounds like fun, but I'm not sure where I'd go. Maybe if I had a jetpack or something."

"Why, is that easier to take places?" He can imagine a flying machine might be little hard to take care of sometimes. Even a carriage needs a driver and groom to take care of it while the owners enjoy themselves.

"Some places. It's meant for carrying just one person, and it's a lot smaller, so it can go places an airplane can't. But there's weight limits and not a lot of fuel, so it won't go as far. Plus if I had a jet pack back home everyone would assume I'm either a hero or a villain and either way fighting would ensue. But around here, it could be a lot of fun."

"Your people sound, er, excitable," he remarks. Not a little puzzled - a flying machine in Tamriel would be something to get very excited about, but in her realm it seems like an everyday occurrence. "You could always go to places where there aren't many people - with one of those you could go just about anywhere. Even Malacath's realm, where there's no solid ground."

"That's true. It'd be great for exploring." She's never been much of an explorer, not until she came to the Nexus, and even then she's been timid. "So what you're saying is, you really want a jetpack for Jül?"

"For any reason at all!" He laughs. "Of course if you don't know how to use one, I surely won't. What does, er, Jül mean?"

"I'll make sure it comes with instructions," she promises with a laugh. "Jül is a mid-winter holiday traditionally celebrated by giving gifts to friends and family. And eating, because what holiday is complete without eating?"

Speaking of, looks like their food is ready.

"Of course. You know, that sounds a bit like the festivals they have up in High Rock. My aunt used to tell me stories about Saturalia there."

He finishes the sangria quickly when he spots the food coming and gives the server a smile. Whatever goslingroot is, the tagliatelle made with it has a delicate green color beneath the red pepper sauce. The spicy smell mingled with the freshly-roasted lamb sets his stomach rumbling. "That's good timing, thank you."

The server gets a smile and thanks from her as well. Her rabbit has a nice mustard crust and is served over polenta with fennel and carrots. (You have to have carrots with rabbit, that's a rule.) "Mm, it all looks so good."

She's going to take a few minutes to cut the meat off the bones, setting the latter on the edge of her plate. She is quick and neat about it; she's deboned a lot of chickens and things in her life. "There used to be a holiday called Saturnalia where I'm from, celebrated at the same time of year. That's a funny coincidence. But that's not something you celebrate I take it... what holidays do you celebrate?"

He gives her polenta a curious look, though tasting his peppery mushrooms comes first. And figuring out how to handle these long ribbony pasta things. The learning process is going to be a little messy.

"That is odd," he remarks of the coincidence, when he's done savoring his first taste. Maybe there's some common root to the celebrations? He notes to ask one of the Breton knights about it. "Hmm. Well, I'm from further south, in Cyrodiil. The biggest festival there is for the new year, especially in the Imperial City. You know - parades, parties, an address from the Emperor, people giving thanks to Father Akatosh. Everyone reflecting very soberly on the year behind and then getting as drunk as possible to prepare for the next."

She'll push her plate aside when she sees him having trouble, reaching across the table to cover his hand. "Here. Put the fork down through the pile of noodles, and twirl them around it like this." Hopefully, he'll see through the bossiness to the good intentions behind them. Or just enjoy the fact she's willing to touch him, that's pretty rare.

"That sounds like New Year's Eve where I'm from too. Well, we don't have a parade, but we do throw some kickin' parties and get stupid drunk usually. It doesn't have a lot of religious connotations anymore. Do you make new year's resolutions?"

He's fond of quite a few bossy people (and beings) so he looks amused but pays attention. She's doing him a kindness, after all. Both sparing him embarrassment and sparing his stomach a wait. "Ah, I get it. Thank you."

His meal starts to go more smoothly once he starts practicing the noodle-twirling. Much better! "Not really, no. What sort of resolutions?"

"You're welcome." She'll let him get back to his regularly scheduled eating now. And don't worry, Felix, you'll have to teach her how to handle fire-roasted everything and forks that are missing a tine some time.

"Usually to give up bad habits or pick up better ones. Going on a diet, exercising more, giving up overindulging in things, being kinder to people. They rarely last long."

He does like trading.

"That sounds quite religious, actually," he comments, successfully twirling some pasta in the sauce and popping it into his mouth. He realizes then how that might sound, so he chews and swallows hastily to clarify, "Er, not necessarily the part about breaking them."

It gets a laugh. She's not a particularly religious person. "Oh no, religions, where I come from, are full of broken promises, so that's fitting. I meant we don't make the promises to a god, only to ourselves. I suppose that way we have nobody to blame but ourselves."

She takes a bite of the rabbit now that she's quite thoroughly taken it apart. "Mm. This is good."

Felix looks relieved. And since he hasn't offended, he can get back to enjoying his food. He's using the conversation to help him resist stuffing it all down his gullet at once. That and drinking.

"My people do that all the time, too. Part of the mortal condition, I suppose. We're wise enough to know how we should act, and too changeable to reliably stick with it."

He has to grin for a moment at how carefully she's disassembled the rabbit. "It looks nice and tender. Is that some sort of grain with it?"

If they keep this up, with the good manners and paced eating, people might start thinking they're civilized.

"That's a good way of putting it. You're very philosophical, aren't you?" This is an attractive quality to her, so say yes.

"Hmm? It's called polenta. It's cornmeal porridge. Want to try some?" Her plate is slid closer to him in invitation. "It's really good."

He needs some kind of cunning disguise, doesn't he?

One should always accept a compliment, and he lifts his ale in salute. "You need to be, in my line of work. Especially when you're trying to understand otherworldly beings. It's important to have... perspective."

And, incidentally, a willingness to try things. He'll scoop a little of the polenta into his bowl. "Thanks. Would you like to try the pasta? You've had it without the goslingroot, so you'll know what difference that makes."

Ah, very sneaky.

"Perspective, or the ability to see other perspectives anyway, isn't much prized where I'm from. I suppose I shouldn't judge them too much, I didn't always worry much bout other perspectives either." She sips her ale and blinks in surprise as the rosemary in it. Hmm.

"Thank you." She deftly hooks a few long noodles with her fork and winds them up. He'll be able to do it that neatly too with a little more practice. "Mm. Green but earthy at the same time. I like it."

"My people appreciate that kind of skill more than most, I think. They just... often think they're better at it than they really are." He pulls a wry smile as he tries the polenta, with and without sauce. Every combination must be examined! "Do you get concerned about other people's opinions much now?"

She smirks at the admission but doesn't say anything... for now. Possibly because she's more interested in how he likes the food. "Mm... not generally, but I've learned to value the perspectives and opinions of my friends. No man is an island, though gods know I tried."

He devotes a moment to contemplating both her words and the food. "Hmm. What stopped you trying? If you don't mind discussing it."

Boy, she is suddenly really into turning that piece of rabbit into slivers with her fork.

"I made a friend, and he taught me to... let myself feel."

"Ah. Well, I'm glad of that, for one," he says, giving her a small smile. "You know, this polenta's delicious stuff. Much lighter than it looks."

"Me too." She can smile about it, for all it's a sad subject.

"It is. It's amazing what can be done with a few simple ingredients, isn't it? D'you have corn, or maize, where you're from?"

Felix looks interested. "Corn as in the big yellow ears? On the really tall stalks? Because we have that all over Cyrodiil."

"Yeah, corn like that," she agrees with a grin. "You dry it, grind it, then cook it to make this. It's the same stuff you make cornbread with."

"There's bread too? I must investigate whenever I make it home. Either the farmers have been holding out on us, or I have something new to show them."

"There is. It's also very easy to make. But if nobody's tried milling corn yet in Cyrodiil, well, you're going to be very busy when you get home."

"It shouldn't be that hard to convince them: they mill just about everything else in the lowlands. Though I think I'll leave the cooking part to people with some skill for it."

"What, you can't call one of those fire ladies to do it for you? Controlling fire should make cooking so much easier."

"Asking for a fire is easy. Asking for edible food from a being who doesn't eat, that's almost as hard as trying to conjure it yourself. Which doesn't work at all, might I add."

"It doesn't? Huh. I wonder why dad was always so worried about magic food..."

She's going to be wondering about that for a moment (and the rest of her life).

"I guess you'll have to learn to do it for yourself."

"Food can have magical effects - especially if you lace it with some kind of potion. Maybe that's what worried him?" he suggests. It seems like the most logical answer.

Her latter comment makes him grimace a little. "At this rate I'll be learning to do it for the whole squad. Curse of the apprentice, you know. Not that it'll be anything this nice."

"Maybe." That makes as much sense as anything, so she'll shrug the question off to worry about later.

"Everyone loves a good cook. Would it really be so bad?"

"There's a difference between being a cook and being the one who gets ordered to do all the drudge work." And for all the ways he haas of earning gratitude, his cooking is not one.

"I'm sorry." She'll drop it. She never likes seeing a nice person sulk.

"So what is Cyrodiil like? That's where you grew up, right?"

Sulking is definitely no way to spend an excellent meal; given the opportunity, Felix gladly abandons the subject and his discomforted look turns to a quick smile and a nod.

"It is - though, I must confess, my hometown isn't very representative of the province. Most of Cyrodiil is green and warm, and - well, the Nords would call it gentle. Having lived there, I can't say the same. But it is beautiful."

He toys with the remains of his food for a moment, deciding how to describe it. "At its heart is a great lake and the Imperial City. The whole region around it is - nearly - full of forests and meadows and quiet riverbanks where lotus flowers grow. Sometimes it seems like every bend or hillock is hiding some ancient fort or broken marble arches. The people are courteous and educated and- disciplined, might be the word. It's a bastion of civility and order. The center of civilization in Tamriel. Even if that is what I'm supposed to say."

The last bit is said dryly, but the patriotism does seem to be genuine, nearly down to the word. He has a sip of ale to wet his throat after all that, so he can add, "Naturally, I come from the one city in the northern mountains. The part covered in ice and snow and surly Nords."

It sounds beautiful, the way he describes it. She's leaning with her chin in her hands by the end, intent on the story and the imagery. It almost sounds too perfect.

But, of course, he's from Bruma. The disappointment makes her laugh, not at him, just at the situation. "Aww. Well, someday you can move south and have your very own broken marble arch to admire."

It really is too perfect, but that's what you get for asking a slightly homesick Imperial. And he doesn't want to dwell on Cyrodiil's misfortunes, not when they've just got their conversation back on track.

"Mmm. Someday after I've made my fortune cleaning out some Ayleid treasure vault. Maybe I'll buy a nice townhouse in Cheydinhal - even the Imperial City. Of course, the south has its own hazards." He leans forward a bit and drops his voice. "Cousins, you know."

She wouldn't be half so interested in visiting if he told her about all the Thalmor. They'd just get along so well.

"Cousins?" She doesn't quite get it, not having any (that she knows of). "I thought people like having cousins."

They took down the Blades, but now the Thalmor have incurred the wrath of a far greater enemy: the Tourism Board of Cyrodiil.

"Ah." Okay, maybe he'll have to save the relations jokes for another audience. "Well, that... really depends on the cousins. And whether you mind them demanding you appear at all kinds of family occasions." He has another sip of ale. "I was joking, though- I only have one first cousin for the moment."

Nobody's invented a shield against bureaucracy yet. That's a real oversight. Those mages up in Winterhold ought to get cracking.

"Oh. That doesn't sound like fun," she admits. "So how far south is safe, do you think? Far enough south to be warm, I hope. Or is that how your branch of the family ended up in the mountains?" She may not always understand, but she tries. And who could stay mad at anyone so cute?

But could anyone ~~besides the Dragonborn~~ be trusted with such power?

"That must be it. Bruma is very well-fortified." He grins. "If I get as far as the southern coast, I ought to be safe. It might be rather damp, but I hear the coastal cities are quite picturesque - if you don't mind a few pirates."

That's the real question, isn't it?

"So your options are cold or pirates? That's a tough choice." He gets legit sympathy for that. It's a horrible conundrum. "Are east and west options?"

"Oh, desert on one side and swamp on the other." He pulls a face. "Not that I'd mind the heat in Hammerfell so much as... well, the locals are, um, superstitious about mages. I can't see it being worth the hassle. Black Marsh, on the other hand, might be interesting to visit. Profitable, even, if I practice making friends with Argonians."

He's all but finished his food, so he takes a minute to savor the last couple of mouthfuls. "So, what about America? What sort of country is your home?"

"Ah. A desert full of people who wouldn't like you much doesn't sound like the most fun place to visit. Argonians are... the local people in the marsh?"

She'll finish up her meal before pushing her plate aside and pulling the giant book closer. "America is huge. Thousands of miles across and encompassing all kinds of places, from places so far north that it's always frozen to southern deserts, mountains and rivers and forests and plains... it's beautiful, but... I haven't actually seen most of it. So I thought we'd start with the city where I grew up, New York."

She opens the atlas to a double-page map of the States. "This is the main part of my country. There's parts further away that don't fit on this map. Kind of like... colonies, I guess? Except their full members of the government. I grew up here, by the ocean, in between two rivers on an island of granite."

He gets a few minutes to take in the vast scale of the country before she moves on to the map of New York City. "This is my city. The grid of streets makes navigation easy, and also estimating distances. Each block, those go east to west, is one twentieth of a mile. I grew up here, but moved here when I decided to get my own place." The Upper East Side probably looks nice, on paper, being near the giant park and all.

"Lizard-folk," he replies with a nod. "Black Marsh is their homeland. I met one here earlier, actually. He's a knight." And rather more than that, which thought brings a smile to his lips. "Charming fellow."

He pushes his cleaned plate aside and leans over the atlas. The scale doesn't overawe him, but he is impressed. It's easy to get used to being a citizen of the biggest and most powerful state around; recent history might have left his generation more chastened than their Imperial forebears, but that kind of privilege doesn't fade quickly. So whether Verity's considering it or not, it really does help to bump up his opinion of her people as To Be Taken Seriously.

Both maps are studied with fascination: the places they show are equally exotic to him, after all. But the city looks very civilized - so far as he can tell from a map. "It was well planned-out, I see. And so you're near - that's parkland, right? Is it all garden, or can people hunt there?"

"Oh, Shade-Seeker! Yeah, he's great." She really likes him. He gives hugs and doesn't judge her.

It's good to respect people with nuclear weapons and superheroes. Not that they're likely to invade the Nexus, but... stranger things have happened. Seriously stranger.

"It's a park, yeah. We don't hunt there, but there's lots to do. There are places for concerts, there's a lake with boats you can rent, there's paths for biking, places for picnics... It's sort of like everybody's back yard." She loves her city. She loves it so much.

"That's him, yes. He's from a couple of centuries in our past, so, ah, I'm trying to be careful how much information goes his way." He's terrifically nonjudgmental though. Felix finds it a tad unsettling.

"That sounds lovely. Most of our cities have public gardens, but in a place so packed..." he brushes his fingers over the dense grid of street lines, "it must be terribly important to have somewhere that isn't paved over. Somewhere everyone can gather. Are there many performances there? I take it you have your own college of bards? Or performers in general?" He's been in Skyrim too long - there are other kinds of musician, he reminds himself.

"Your past, dear, not mine. But that's probably wise." Her own brief time-travel adventure didn't end so well, and she doesn't like to think about how much worse it might have gone.

"It is really nice to have green space, yeah. We have some other parks too, but they're not as big. We have one that elevated above the streets even." She traces that path over the map, though it isn't shown there. "Oh, there's all kinds of performances. Different kinds of music, and plays too. There's shows for kids sometimes, puppets or people acting out fairy tales. We don't call them 'bards' where I come from but we do have schools for musicians, actors, dancers... New York is one of the biggest cities in the world, and culturally it's very important. People come from all over to try and become famous."

"With the world on your doorstep, it's a miracle you find time to travel. Is New York your capital, then?"

"No, it's not the capital of the country or the state. It used to be the capital of the country, but they built a new city for that. They needed more room and wanted it to be more centrally located, you see." Flipping back to the big country map, and this time she points out D.C. "When the country was founded, it only took up these places near the ocean. Americans moved westward slowly, in stages, over the next century. Which would have been fine if they hadn't committed genocide in the process. And maybe it wouldn't have been fine with the people who used to live there."

She doesn't like admitting that part, but it's the truth and it's important to know these things.

"Ah. Yes, that's... unpleasant. I think something similar happened a couple of times in Tamriel. Like the Nords conquering Skyrim from the Snow Elves and Bretons." People aren't usually so sensitive- okay, the descendants of the victors aren't generally sensitive about these things, in Tamriel. But Verity is very somber about it, so he's following her lead. And there's something to be respected in a people who don't forget the bloodshed behind their triumphs.

Plenty of people still sensitive about that, Felix, haven't you ever been to Markarth? "I hope it doesn't happen again, for any of us."

Verity's sensitive about a lot of things. It's part of why she spent so long trying to isolate herself. It's hard to deal with deep feelings and constant truth at the same time.

"So, would you like to see some pictures of New York?"

Is it in any way surprising that no, he quite deliberately hasn't been to Markarth proper? The Forsworn have really interesting hobbies but last time he asked, they wouldn't let him in their club.

"I'm sure either of our governments would have quite a lot to say about it, if it did." It's a reassurance, so long as you don't over-analyze it.

"Oh, there are engravings? I'd love to see them." His is a world not yet saturated with Youtube videos and selfies and Google maps, and his immediate keenness reflects that. Getting actual pictures of a mysterious foreign land is a rare pleasure.

Oh, but they've got plenty of clubs for a handsome Imperial like him.

"Yeah, and most of it wouldn't mean anything." She knows how these things work. She's seen plenty of politicians on the news, talking and talking and saying nothing.

"Not exactly..." Prepare to be amazed: she has a smartphone, and an album of photos she's taken around the city. Once it's open she turns the screen to him. "Rub your finger lightly over the screen in either direction to switch to the next picture." She will demonstrate: right to a new pic, right to another one, left goes back to the one they'd just seen, left goes back again, another left is another picture. Magic.

And he'd like to stay handsome, so he'll stick to making friends with daedra.

He shrugs a little, not willing to dispute it: most of what the powerful say is of questionable honesty and that's undeniable. He can't really blame Verity if she finds that less endearing than he does.

Ah, he's noticed a few people wandering around with devices like that. He peers at it while she fiddles, then blinks when he's shown the pictures. "Oh." It's so bright and detailed and- he breaks into a delighted grin.

"Hah! Well, look at that!" He has to try swiping between pictures, although it might take him some fumbling to get the right combination of pressure and movement. Motor skills of the future, here he comes! "What a fine little device. No wonder I keep seeing them around." Although to be fair, he doesn't differentiate between different small rectangular gadgets yet.

In her defense, J. Jonah Jameson is the mayor of New York where she's from. Nobody could love politics after that. Nobody but the villains.

He can play to his heart's content. She's enjoying the show. "Pretty great, huh? It stores information for me, it can connect to other devices to retrieve even more information, I can use it to communicate with other people, it even takes pictures. All those pictures you're looking at, I took with that phone."

He seems all the more impressed by its versatility. "All of that? Wait, how do you mean it 'takes' the pictures? I mean, I suppose you have to receive them from somewhere..."

They're pretty damn impressive things. "You see that small round glass piece? That works sort of like an eye. It takes in all the light and the machine makes a picture from it. Then it shows the picture on the screen when we tell it to. "

Felix leans his head to take a look at the lens. "That's interesting. And it's all just mechanical and... electrical? Hmm." His fingers twitch a little over the phone. "So these are all places you've really been, not just places the artists like." The technical aspects are fascinating, but it's worth remembering the other implications.

He's almost too caught up in the moment to notice the older man come in the door. The newcomer is armored in segmented steel, polished and gleaming - although in style it otherwise resembles Felix's uniform, down to the skirt. He sweeps a cool glance around the dining room and strides straight for their table. Felix is careful not to let his expression change.

"Yes, it's mechanical and electrical. Next time I'll bring something with a bigger screen so you can see the details." Because there are so many more details than he realizes. "They are. This is exactly how they looked when I was there. Those people were all there, the weather was really like that. No artistic license." She doesn't even use filters.

She looks up at the man approaching but saves the questioning look for Felix. Not that she's going to stop the conversation now. "Further on there are some pics I took at night, you can see how the city lights up. It's really beautiful."

"Oho! This could be a dangerous little gadget, you know..."

Felix looks up at her, expression flickering with something apologetic for a moment before he gets back to looking for the night-time pictures. "Where are those? I- oh. Sir." He rises politely. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

That's a double lie, and his innocent smile is no better. In his defense, the officer's giving him a very hard look.

"Auxiliary." That the tribune comes from the same region as Felix looks obvious - actually, there's a resemblance beneath the age difference, though Felix is sharper-featured and paler. Same accent, too. He inclines his head to Verity smoothly. "Pardon me for interrupting your meal, miss. I wanted to see for myself what my legionnaire was doing away from his post."

Oh god. Office politics. She looks down at her phone to hide her reaction to the lies, but she's listening closely and watching what she can.

"Eating lunch." She knows he wasn't really asking her, but since he was technically talking to her, she's going to be difficult. "A lovely goslingroot tagliatelle. And making pleasant conversation." The phone is slipped into a pocket before Stratos can ask too many questions about it.

Felix is going to have to make some profuse apologies after this, not to mention express his gratitude that Verity isn't giving him away. He really was hoping Stratos wouldn't do this to him.

"I did leave you a message, sir," he says, while Stratos is hesitating in his response to Verity. "Since we had no provisions, and it was so long since you left, I, er, took the opportunity to scout a possible source of safe meals. With the help of Miss Willis, here." All of which is true. In some fashion. Stratos still looks at him as if trying to discern the game.

"Yes, I found the note. Auxiliary, I don't think you understand yet the discipline I expect of you, or the penalties-" ...He lies. But he glances at Verity again, the book of maps on the table, and sighs. "If you'll excuse us, miss." Felix gets a look. "I'll speak with the auxiliary outside."

What is there to give away? As far as she knows this is just lunch and a pleasant conversation. But yes, he'll have to find a good way to apologize.

"Okay. Bye, Felix." He gets a smile before he goes. Then her gaze slides to Stratos before dropping to the table. "Try being honest. He might respect that."

Who knows which one she was talking to. Maybe both of them. She's a troublemaker sometimes.

Unaware of her ability, Stratos raises his eyebrows a little - if she has his brother's number down, he'll give the young woman some credit.

Or she's speaking to him, but surely that's- unlikely. He gives Felix a sidelong look, slightly disconcerted despite himself. He bows his head to Verity once more and takes a couple of steps back, looking a bit more like a scolding parent than a ticked-off superior.

"I'm so sorry about this," Felix says, with a duly sheepish smile, and a proper bow. "I'll settle the bill with our hosts before I go, of course. And thank you - this is still the most enjoyable meal I've had in months."

Good luck with that, Stratos. She's an open book. But that book is a Choose Your Own Adventure and most people read straight through instead of following the prompts.

So long as he's properly apologetic he'll get an answering smile. "No no, my treat. Let me know when they let you come back and we can do it again." She's always down for this kind of troublemaking.

Stratos never did like those books.

Felix looks relieved; if she's not mad at him, that's one front he doesn't have to worry about. He grins back, all the more so because of the frown she just elicited from Stratos. "I look forward to it. We still have so many maps to trade."

Making Stratos frown is fun. She'll have to thank Felix for teaching her this game later.

"I'll show you more of my... magic pictures." Or maybe that's his thanks. Unless it does actually get him dragged out by the ear because he shouldn't be flirting while technically on duty.

Next time he'll teach her how to score twitches.

"And I'll be your willing admirer."

"Felix." Fifty points!

"Right behind you, sir." He gives Verity a farewell grin and follows in Stratos's wake as the older mage strides out. There's an awkward and rather unpleasantly silly argument ahead. Maybe one of them will actually take Verity's advice. But probably not willingly.

Oh, that is fun. It's hard to tell if the twitch or the tone sets off the giggles. She'll have to think about that.

They can argue whenever, wherever, and however they want. She'll take the side exit so she doesn't have to witness it. If they take her advice, great, and if not, more of the same right?

Honesty is a difficult thing for them at present. But the row is saved for when they're back in their own world, so at least Verity will be spared whichever route she takes.

((That was a lot of fun, thank you. :D))

(( And thank you! XD Stratos had better beware of that sport catching on. ))

((At least Ravari still likes him? You know, as much as she can?))

(( Is there a rule against making fun of good customers, he'd like to know? It's... er, strategically important ~~to his ego~~. ))

((Absolutely!

Never do it where they'll hear or how they'll figure out.))

((He can accept that as a substitute for respect.))

((Good to know.))

The Learned Society of Nexus Geographers

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