Unfamiliar Ceiling [For Amelia Ronsam]

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Dappled sunlight and soft birdsong await when Amelia wakes. The room in which she does so features whitewashed plaster walls surmounted by smoke-darkened beams, standing over a well-fitted hardwood floor covered by woven-rag rugs. A desk sits by the window, paired with a chair in which sits a well-dressed man, currently occupied in reading a slim book. Next to the door are a mirror and a table with a pitcher and basin; opposite them stands a wardrobe.

Amelia herself lies atop the blankets of a single bed that smells faintly of lavender, having been neither undressed nor disarmed. The wall is to one side of her, a nightstand to the other. If she cared to assume that a trunk stood at the foot of the bed, she would not be mistaken.

Comments

[rogueinladysclothing]

"He fucked over his own people because of his own selfish beliefs?!"

The thought escapes her before she can really think it through. After it's out, she takes a breath and nods. She takes one more moment to collect herself before looking back at Schön. "I can see why it's such a precious opportunity to someone who collects rare valuables and oddities." She motions around his office to emphasize her point. "I will see about procuring the largest warehouse with the requirements you specified as soon as possible. However, I'll need to know how much you're willing to spend on the building, as I'm assuming you aren't willing to rent, and then I'll need some kind of advance as a show of good faith to the person I purchase it from."

Amelia may have let that first comment escape from her, but she won't be doing that again any time soon. It's easier for her to maintain control when she's working, because she knows the stakes and has a reason to stay focused. It's when she feels relaxed that such outbursts happen.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Her abrupt remark surprises a remark from the thin man, and he sinks back in his seat to enjoy it. "Such refreshing clarity! He did, yes," he adds, sobering, "drive his people to ruin for the sake of his beliefs."

He nods slightly in answer to her conclusion about his collection--if she takes it as a shallow interest, that of the greedy curator, well and good. She's disinclined to believe in magic, anyway. Better to let her focus on the business at hand than esoteric matters she'd rather avoid. "You assume correctly. Negotiate the best price you are able, and it shall be paid. As for an advance..."

His hand dips several times into the open drawer, each time drawing something out to place on the desk: a sturdy cloth bag that settles with a familiar metallic clink; a smaller pouch of silk that gives a much quieter clatter; a clear case of some kind of glassy material that seems to contain an exceptionally clear portrait of a man with some kind of uniform, a helmet on his head and a club in his hands, a name and emblem blazoned beneath him (possibly several such portraits, stacked together); and a palm-sized cube that glows with a warm, pink light.

"These should serve as a suitable start, whomever you deal with."

[rogueinladysclothing]

The fact that he doesn't get upset with her for that outburst is duly noted. She'll still try to avoid it in the future, but it's good to know it didn't put her on bad terms with him so early in their relationship.

As she looks over the objects he pulls from the drawer, an eyebrow raises in question. The pouches full of coins she understands. The container the portrait (or portraits?) is in is odd, but she can chalk it up to being glass and ask about it later. The cube, however... Her eyes widen a bit in wonder as she takes it in. She slowly reaches out to touch it, but her hand stops a few inches short. "What is it?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if she's afraid to disturb the vision in front of her.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He seems to be savoring her moment of wonderment, and answers after a moment, "it's called energon. Some of those tall, metal people use it as food and currency. It is... potential energy, crystallized in great density in a form easily converted to whatever other form is needed." He gestures invitingly, adding, "it's quite safe to touch."

The cube is faintly warm, and hums just a little bit, inaudibly.

[rogueinladysclothing]

She doesn't understand most of what he said, but she files them away for later research. Carefully, she touches her fingertips to the cube. The humming can be felt, rather than heard, and elicits a small gasp. She removes her fingers for a moment, then touches them to the cube again. The process is repeated several times before she carefully draws her hand back, checking her fingertips in spite of the promised safety of the object in front of her.

Her eyes are still wide as she looks up to Schön. "How is something like this possible?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He shrugs. "I have no head for the science of it, I admit, so the precise details escape me. But this is the Nexus, and all things are possible here."

[rogueinladysclothing]

An honest answer, albeit a useless one. She nods. "So, hold onto it for currency, got it." She stands and slowly gathers everything he pulled out of the drawer. The pouches full of coins get hung from her belt and the other items get stored in some of the bigger pouches she already had on her.

"I expect this will take a little longer. A few days to make sure I find the right space and a few more to get the best price I can. With any luck, I'll have something within a week - whatever that means in a place like this, of course." Despite her unfamiliarity with the flow of time in the Nexus, she seems confident in her estimation on the amount of time the job he's asked of her will take. "I'll return here when it's done. If you need me before then, leave word at the inn. I'll come as soon as I can."

Despite the rudeness of getting up and letting herself out, Amelia does so anyway. She has no need of Schön's platitudes and patronizing words, and even to her untrained eyes it's obvious he's exhausted. Besides, with a job to complete, she has every reason to get moving, to keep busy.

Her lack of rest is likely to cause problems in the future, if she continues to keep up this pace with her jobs.