Tasha has had to show the invitation card at several points to reach this far. Large double doors stand before her at the end of a velvet carpet, while soft music plays over the ancient speakers. Two human bodyguards flank the doors, and a brass plaque on one of the doors shows the current occupant as Katherine Vesuvius.
Even after all she's been through, Tasha is nervous. Very nervous. She can't tell what exactly draws her to Katherine Versuivius, nor why she took the extraordinary effort to get to this point, but at least she can agree with herself that she finds the woman fascinating. It took her two hours to get ready for this evening, and even now she wonders if she shouldn't have spent more.
As she walks down the corridor, she can't help but feel out of place. The high-society decor combined with the elegant, gentle music seems far away from the world she knows. She realizes that even with her newfound power and position, there are still places that seem out of reach, unwelcoming of someone like her. She knows she doesn't fit in here.
And yet, she also realizes how much she wants to.
As she nears the doors, she holds out the invetation to the bodyguards. "I'm Aldara Tasha; Aldara Tasha Argentine. I'm expected," she explains, an anxious tinge to her voice.
The men silently open the doors for Tasha, revealing a sitting room of sorts. A Karnor man stands up from his seat, and gestures for Tasha to come closer. "Let's have a look at you, dear," he says in a slightly high voice. He's impeccably dressed in a tailored maroon suit that is unnaturally shiny. Even his shoes, made of black and white leather, reflect like mirrors. He also wears his white(!) hair in long curls and braids.
The hyrbid woman had cast a nervous glance across the room before her gazes fixes on the man. It's all she can do not to stare at the breast of his suit in the face of so much glossiness, the young woman blinking several times before she can regain her seses and pull her gaze upward. She steps closer, her right hand fiddling with the invitation.
"S-sorry," she stammers apologetically, gesturing vaguely at the man, "The suit, it's, um ... " Thinking better of babbling over her Vartan weakness, especially in a place that seems to magnify every little imperfection she has, she simply decides to be silent, standing there to be inspected.
Tasha is wearing the same rugged but casual traveling clothes she tends to wear when she's not suited up in one soirt of environmental suit or other. It's a simple affair, a tank top, a scarf around her neck, and a pair of pants, though with most of the leather pouches that contain her equipment left behind. Only her datapad remains, her omnipresent second-brain.
"Hmmm," the fancy wolf humms, as he fingers the material of Tasha's scarf. "Miss Vesuvius wishes for you to look your best, child. Please come with me."
Tasha almost offers a meak protest, but thinks better of it and just follows along as she's told, ears canting back.
The next room is small, and appears to be some strange closet or dressing room. Mr. Shiny sets a whicker basket on a gilt-edged chair, and asks, "Please place your clothing in the basket." Meanwhile, he turns away and retrieves some items from the small makeup-table-desk thing, including a measuring tape that he drapes over his shoulders.
"You ... Y-you want me to undress?" Tasha asks, ears shooting up. She thinks on it, watching the man a moment and realizing she might have made a mistake, and so quickly adds, "I-I guess it's alright ... "
"Do you need assistance?" he asks, and frowns at a wrinkle in his sleeve. "Necessity!" he calls out, summoning a human girl dressed like a man (but her clothes cut for a female) including vest and tie and slacks, but with hair that looks like an explosion in a rainbow factory. "Yes Mr. Invention?" she asks. "Prepare to take notes," the wolf tells her.
After blinking at the call and looking uncertain at having another observer, Tasha decides things aren't going to get any more comfortable by waiting and they certainly won't be helped by her standing there and looking vapid. Thus, she unties the kerchief from her neck, dropping it in the basket before removing her top, then her pants and dropping them in as well. She stands there in her skivvies, tail tugged between her legs and ears flat, waiting.
Mr. Invention is clearly the practitioner of some bizarre martial art. The measuring tape flies and stretches and wraps and delineates Tasha's vital statistics, all while the man calls out numbers as his assistant scribbles furiously on a leather-clad notepad. Tasha also learns that there measurements specifically for people with digitigrade stances and hooves and wings! She also learns, quite abruptly, what her actual bra size should be.
Though she tries to take mental notes, she can't quite keep up. Bewildered by the measurments, and discomfort in general, the whole process goes through Tasha's mind in something of a mental haze. The only thing she remembers afterward is her bra size, if only because her attempts at buying clothing had routinely brought up the question. Lacking knowledge of Abaddon's culture of fashion, she was unable to know, and too embarassed to ask, feeling like a barbarian. Instead, she just tried things on until something fit, and kept her shame to herself.
The measurements end, and then the fancy wolf takes a good look at Tasha's fur. Like all Jupani or Karnors, it's fairly thick except around her belly, and thins out rapidly as it transitions to her more equine parts. "See if Prudence and do something with.. this," he tells Mr. Necessity, who leaves the notepad on the desk. "Ah, yes sir," the girl replies, and gestures for Tasha to follow her now, while offering an apologetic smile.
Tasha hadn't expect the visit would involve this, but she reconciles herself to it, thinking it is just the price she must pay to be a part of this world -- or at least awkwardly exist in it. She thinks to ask if this is normal, but doesn't for all the reasons she hasn't protested over the whole affair. Admitting her naivette, she's found, has only compounded the problem in the past.
Through a narrow hall behind a door that seemed part of the wall design, Tasha is led to an incredible bright, white room. The room is circular, with mirrors and sinks and counters and shelves full of colorful bottles, and two white-leather and chrome articulated chairs that look vaguely medical. A white-clad and smocked human woman rises from her seat as the two enter. "Is this the Special Guest?" she asks the other human girl. "Yes, Miss Prudence," Necessity answers. The elder woman smiles to Tasha and gestures for her to come closer. "I don't bite," she promises.
The red hybrid woman advances, offering a nervous smile. "What should I do ..?" She asks, deciding being helpful and involved in the process might be better than nervous acceptance.
"Just relax," Prudence says, and runs her fingers through Tasha's hair with a serious expression, and then the fur on her cheek, left shoulder and even the thicker thatch of her chest ruff. She picks up Tasha's hand.. and then pauses. "You have a tattoo under your fur?" she asks.
Looking down at her hand, Tasha explains, "It's a neural tattoo, it helps me pilot my Titan. I'm a cyborg," in an embarassed tone. While normally proiud of her cybernetic parts, having them revealed here just makes her feel more out of place; more different.
Both of the other women raise their eyebrows and look at one another for a moment, before Prudence asks, "How extensive are they?"
"Under both of my arms, down my back, behind my head, along my wings and down my legs," the hybrid answers in tone that sounds like she's sorry for existing.
"Make a note of that to Mr. Invention," Prudence says to Necessity, who nods and leaves back the way they entered. The remaining woman then asks Tasha, "Are they sensitive? Is it alright to expose them more?"
Tasha looks down at her right hand, flexing it a moment as she replies, "They're robust. They were created for a pilot that might see combat, after all. They won't react unless there's a static charge from my fur, but it's just due to the charge activating their visual-positive sign of functionality and nothing to worry about."
"Really? What happens when they react?" Prudence asks.
"They glow blue," Tasha explains, looking up. "It's a sign they're working, normally."
Prudence feels around Tasha's head now, until she comes across the studs. "Hmmm, the tattoos lead to these I assume?" she asks, her lips pursed in thought.
"That's right. They're the interface point, for when my Titan connects to my brain," Tasha answers, eyes trailing towards the arm touching her head.
"Hmmm, no way to really draw attention to them though," Prudence says with a bit of disappointment. She also start feeling Tasha's arms. "You have a good bit of muscle definition," she points out.
Tasha looks down, but then looks away as she admits, "I used to do a lot of lifting, when I was younger, I mean."
"I think with the right trimming and highlighting that could be brought out better," Prudence says. "Your fur needs some evening out anyway. That, along with the tattoos.. perhaps a little help to get them lit up.. metallic tints.. yes.. quite striking. I say we go with that."
"O-okay?" Is Tasha's response to the idea, the young woman not really knowing what the other has in mind. "Do ... Do I need to do anything else?"
"Please remove your top and shorts," Prudence says. "I'll handle your back quickly, so you can sit down for the rest."
Tasha nods, glad, at least, that she'll be stripping for the older woman instead. Soon, she's holding her undergarments, waiting expectantly.
"You can just set them on a chair," Prudence says, as she prepares a tray. She picks up a metal tool with a long power cord, and with the flip of a switch the toothed end begins vibrating in a blur, until she covers the blades with some sort of comb attachment.
The garments are put aside before Tasha returns, then she holds her arms out. While new to most of this experience, she's had some history with shavers for various reasons, and is prepared for the process -- if not exactly sure what the outcome will be.
Most of the activity is happening behind Tasha's back. She does feel things being cut close over the tattooed circuitry, but there are other odd cuts that she can't quite figure out.
The young hybrid settles in, deciding to simply grin and bear it, even if she's too nervous to grin. It's part of the price of being here, she reminds herself, renewing her resolve to be cooperative and helpful as she can.
It's relaxing in a way, touching on social grooming instincts likely handed down through her Vartan heritage. The trimming isn't uniform, as Prudence seems to be selectively 'sculpting' the fur to follow the contours of Tasha's own muscles, especially on the shoulders and arms. She even buzzes down the fur over her breasts, making the chest ruff stand out more. There isn't much at all to do lower down, where the fur is naturally short. "There, are you ready to sit down and rest for a bit?" Prudence asks.
"I don't mind," Tasha replies as she resist the urge to look herself over. I'm sure there will be time for that later, she decides as she glances towards the nearest chair instead.
Prudence makes a few adjustments to accommodate Tasha's wings, and begins filling a sink behind it with water.
Tasha releases a breath as she settles in, eyes closing. She hadn't realize how tense she was until she leaned back and hopes that her anxiety hasn't caused disruptions to the work Prudence is doing. It only takes a minute or two before she finds herself relaxed, her mind emptying. Here, away from everyone show knows, in another world, she finds a certain sense of freedom. No longer is she the woman trying to reach the Hall of Souls. She's not the pilot of anything, or a leader, and the dangerous wild may as well not exist. No, she's just a nervous woman following in the path of someone greater in to a world of elegance and culture; a fairy land, far removed.
The hybrid has certainly heard of spas, but probably thought they were like the Amazonian baths, where you get a massage. Right now, her hair was being massaged. And not just on top. With her eyes closed and the air full of a floral fragrance, she can't actually tell how many other people might be their, but someone is washing her tail where it drops through a hole in the chair, and another is polishing her claws. There's also a small, wet comb that's brushing through her fur as well.
It all feels very dainty to a person who had long looked down on daintiness of any sort. It's only now, being cared for and pampered, that she realizes that feeling wasn't distaste -- it was jealousy. If she couldn't be part of that world, then she would revile it instead. She doesn't remember making the decision conciously, deciding it must have been, like so many complexes she's worked through over the last few months, a subconcious affair. Whatever it may have been, she's here now. As the process continues, she finds it harder and harder to remember that she ever looked down on things like this. And soon, she decides that maybe this is something she doesn't want to do without in the future.
The brushing goes on for some time, as if time had any meaning at this point. There's definitely something being done to her hair and fur though, all in silence, until the voice of Mr. Invention is heard. "I need to see the lines. Ah, interesting. I can work with that. And the studs?" There's some motion behind Tasha's head, as hair is parted. She easily picture the measuring tape being quickly deployed.
The events around her seem distant now, lost in a dreamlike haze of comfort that the process encourages. Tasha's since abandoned her nervousness in favor of enjoyment, no longer worrying over what's being done or if she's behaving oddly. After all, she doesn't have to do anything now. Even the movement near her neural studs seems distant, something she needn't concern herself over; worry feels a world away, belonging to someone else.
Some time later, Prudence is quietly asking Tasha to wake up.
The voice comes through a field of flowers, when the young woman had dreamed herself to be. A field of flowers in the park of a beautiful city, shining and clean, and her in a simple dress, far from the rough and tumble outfits from another life.
Tasha opens her eyes, squinting in the light as the present returns to her. "Oh ... I fell asleep?" She asks, clearly disoriented. Shortly after the sting of embarassment comes to her, pushing aside the memories of the gentle dream.
"Is that alright? Did I make a mistake?" She asks a second later, not quite able to catch the slip.
"Time to stand up, dear," the woman says, smiling. Any assistants she may have had have left. Or maybe they were elves.
Tasha rises in a particularly slow and careful way, clearly not wanting to ruin whatever work was done. When she's fully up, she looks to the other woman expectantly.
Prudence smiles, happy with what she sees. "Mr. Invention will be here shortly with your gown," she says, and stands aside so Tasha can see the mirrors. Her blond hair is now.. golden? It shines like metal, and is coiffed into a swirling wave. A rear reflection shows similar for her tail. Her normal red fur is now vibrant red - and also looks smooth and metallic, following her muscles to look almost like overlapping pieces of armor. Her tattoos aren't shaved to the skin, but nearly so. Her claws are painted gold, and even her hooves are polished and lacquered. Her feathers have been left alone, so as not to interfere with actual flight capability.
Tasha's muzzle parts as she sees herself and she goes to speak, but finds herself unable to as she chokes up. She bites her lip instead, blinking rapidly as she fights the surge of tears that come to her eyes. Unable to articulate her approval, she simply gestures at herself to Prudence, as if to say, "Look at me, look at me -- thank you!"
"Please hold still," Mr. Invention notes, as he enters the room with a bit of metallic blue cloth over one arm.
The hybrid returns her hand to her side, but is unable to quite pull her eyes away from the mirror. She's breathing a little quickly from the emotion.
The Karnor tailor interrupts the view briefly, as he connects the two end of the gown behind Tasha's neck, letting the scintillating fabric drape down. The neckline plunges well below Tasha's ribs, but somehow it all manages to fit without looking like any sudden movement will spill the woman out. The sides are exposed from hip to heel as well, revealing the tattoo lines on the legs. And as a final touch, a metallic comb is added to the back of Tasha's head. It's heavy, with a cylinder of some sort attached to the back. Once the tines brush against her interface studs, however, there's just enough charge delivered to light up her tattoos.
If she could barely hold her emotuions back before, she certainly cannot now, when she sees the work done in full. Tasha pulls in a sharp breath, blinking as tears come to her eyes. It makes her feel intensely embarsssed even as she is intensely happy, her inner ears redding and her gaze averting as the otehrs watch her.
It's all she can do to stammer out a, "S-sorry."
"There there," Prudence says, holding a tissue up to catch the moisture before it can mar Tasha's cheek.
Mr. Invention hands Tasha back her tablet, and says, "Miss Vesuvius can see you now, if you are ready."
Tasha's smile is sheepish as she allows the tissue to catch her tears. It takes a moment, but she recovers, drawing in a breath and offering Pruduce a genuine smile before she turns to nod to Mr. Invention.
"I think I'm ready, now. I h-hope I am," she replies.
The Karnor offers his elbow to Tasha. "I'm sure she will be thrilled to meet you."
The young woman nods, although she'ss somewhat less certain internally. "I'm looking forward to it," she admits as she hooks arms and follows along.
Tasha is led into a new room, which is... dazzling, in many different ways. The wide window wall shows the sun setting over the city, with a long low couch placed just for viewing it apparently, along with a glass coffee table. The walls of the room are covered in shelves, and those shelves are packed with models of fanciful airships and spacecraft and trains and other vehicles that move (including Titans). There are paintings and photographs of the same, including a blown up still frame from a movie depicting some giant, steam-powered dragon. Sitting on the couch is Katherine 'Katie Kaboom' Vesuvius.. at least until she hears Tasha arrive, then she's up and practically bouncing on her feet. The silver and gold Karnor is wearing some sort of clingy silver jumpsuit, with a strange logo on it: it takes a moment, but Tasha finally recognizes it as a Terran uniform from the bizarre space-pirates drama that the Titanians were showing back near the Gateway! "You came!" the woman squeals.
It's here that Tasha finds herself intensely embarassed. Confronted with the far more elegant Katie Vesuvius, all her worries about looking rough and unculture come flooding back. She quickly averts her gaze to the floor, but she does at least manage to smile. "I w-wasn't sure if I should, after all, I'm not used to t-this," she admits as she gestures vaguely to herself. "I hope I'm doing it right? I don't want to be embarassing, and I know you're ... you're ... " She gestures to Katie in turn.
The Karnor woman takes Tasha's left elbow, and before she knows she's got Katie on her arm throwing a victory sign with her other hand, Tasha pulled in close next to her.. as Mr. Invention holds up a heavy camera and takes a photograph. FLASH!
Tasha's muzzle had parted as she was taken along and by the time she sees the motion to her side and looks up, she's staring in to the camera lense! She doesn't quite register what's happening until it's too late, her expression a bit lost, not to mention the light catching the red flush of embarassment that's notmally hard to pick out amongst her red fur. The flash dazzles her after, forcing her to shut her eyes as she recovers.
Katie drags her down to the couch, sitting next to her. "I'm such a big fan!" the Karnor admits. "Holy Chrome, your skin glows! You've got circuits on your skin!"
When Tasha finally opens her eyes, she's looking at Katie in the face, which seems to startle her even more. And when she hears the motorcycle star is her find, she can only blink vapidly, her eyes still a touch glossy from the strain induced by the flash.
After several seconds, she asks in a disbelieving voice, "Y-you are?"
"You've got an actual Expedition spaceship and a Gryphon!" Katie gushes! "My brother sent me pictures! They're gorgeous!" From the collection on the walls, it may be that Katherine really likes technology..
"Oh, well ... those," Tasha says, still seeming to need a moment to take everything in. She watches her companion for a moment, then -- perhaps due to her flash-induced blindness -- really seems to notice the models and figures along the wall. Her eyes dart to them, and Katie can clearly see her study each in turn. "I've never seen so many machines of these types before. You have Titans, land vehicles, even robots I don't recognize ... " Her tone is one of quiet relization mixed with awe. When she looks back, she notices the star's outfit, brows raising. "And that's the outfit worn by one of the stars in the show the Titanians near the Tower put on; I remember seeing it when i first came to this world!"
"Do you like it?" Katie asks. "I had it made special. Mr. Invention is just a genius with costumes! Oh! Do you have your armor with you by any chance?"
"My ... my armor?" Tasha looks down at herself, remembering she removed it along with her underclothes. She didn't think she'd need the protection, after all. Then there's her powered armor, which definitely seemed inappropriate to attend a high society star. She looks up again, admitting, "I removed my undersuit when t-they went about, um, doing all of this, and of course my powered armor wouldn't be, um, I mean, it wouldn't have been something I should wear to a here. I mean, to a place as nice as this."
"But you have it right? Here in the city?" Katie asks, leaning forward with sparkly eyes. "I'd love to see it! Is it custom fitted? Can you lift up a tank when wearing it?"
When Katie leans in, Tasha leans back a little, ears shooting up. "Well, yes, of course it is," she admits without thinking, then can't manage to think about it even after as the star's eyes fill her vision. "I usually wear my undersuit, but my armor is fitted. Fitted for me, I mean. I'm half-Vartan and ... " She does manage to think enough to be suddenly embarassed about being half-Vartan, cursing her mind for its whimsy. "I mean, well, I am, and um ... I am?"
"That's right, you can fly," Katie says, and then gropes one of Tasha's biceps. "You're like a super soldier. And you have your own flying giant robot. I'd love to get a model! Or some better pictures than what the newspapers have.."
Tasha's ears go right back up when she's touched, and for a moment she just stares at Katie's hand, as if she were looking at some sort of paradox. She quickly realizes what she's doing, looking away. "W-well I'm sure I could arrange something, I mean, I have exclusive control over access to Melchior and I'm sure he'd be glad to hear someone is interested in him ... " She not quite sure what to make of being called a super soldier, taking her a bit longer to think of what to say, which ends up being, "I, um ... well, I have to fight things and lift ... other things ..," while also making her feel intensely stupid.
"I read about the big kaiju at the dam!" Katie notes, sounding excited. "But nobody shot any movie film! Can you tell me about it? All those Lawbringers, and you in your flying Titan.."
Mr. Invention clears his throat slightly, and interrupts with, "When would you like dinner served, Miss Kate?"
"Oh, right.. are you hungry yet, Miss Argentine?" Katie asks Tasha.
Seeing the opportunity to make up for her inane remark, Tasha quickly explains, "Well, I was on stand-by from my flights to locate water when they contacted me. The dam defense Lawbringers were unable to stop the daikaiju, while the dam guns were unable to fire because it had used the water to close upon the dam's exterior wall, too close to use incindiaries without risking damage to the dam itself. I reasoned with Melchior that brute force wouldn't work, so we lured it away and we cleaved off its tail, disabling it's primary form of defense and bringing it away from the the dam, so the guns could fire ... "
After relating her tale, it takes Tasha a second or two to register the second question, upon which she is surprised to realize she had forgotten all about food. "Oh, I suppose?"
"Make it happen please, Mr. Invention," Katie notes, before turning her attention back to Tasha and her tale. "You can talk to your Titan - and it talks back?" she asks in a whisper.
"Well, yes, of course he does," Tasha replies, ears slowly starting to return to their usual angle as she settles in to talking about familiar ground. "The Tech Level 2 Magi Class Titan Melchior, possesses an on-board AI and a neural interface system -- a direct link to the pilot's brain. We share minds when we are linked, and sometimes, it's a little hard to tell where I end and he begins. Or, well, really," here she tilts her head, "you could say we're really the same being now, just in seperate elements when we are apart. I sometimes feel lonely, or, um, lessened when I leave him. We have such a close link, I don't think I can really explain it other than that we overlap and we're more like different parts of a whole."
Katie rolls away and drapes herself over the back of the couch, hugging herself and staring at the ceiling. "Oh.. wow. That must be the sexiest thing ever. To be inside your lover like that, souls touching. All that machine power.."
Tasha suddenly turns to look intensely interested in the floor. "I-I don't know if I would call it love," she insists, quickly, then adds just as quick, "b-but I wouldn't say it's not entirely unlike love, either ... " as she thinks better of it. Does she sense my feelings towards Melchior? Is that what they smell like now? She risks a glance aside, trying to gauge Katie's reaction.
The Karnor may be momentarily lost in her own fantasies from the look on her face. "What was it like when you first met.. or saw him?" she asks dreamily.
Not being observed, Tasha manages to reply, albiet with her ears canting back. She still remembers the intensity of the experience, after all, not to mention ...
"He ... he asked me if I was ready to complete the link, and then he kissed me. It was ... It was very intense," she explains, not quite able to believe she's admitting these things to the star. "When I first saw him, I was in awe. I had ... I had a fight, an arguement, with another one of our, um, team, and had gone off alone when I found him. I got him to work with some help, and the surgeries too, but when I first saw him, I was ... It took my breath away."
"Is it still like that?" Katie asks, turning onto her side to face Tasha.
Tasha's ears shoot up all over again. "Well, y-yes. I mean, he's a little insecure some times, but he's still ... That is, he's still the only place I feel like I'm completely in my own space. He's always there for me. It's not like the others." She winces at the mention of the others, wondering if she'll ever manage to stop rambling.
"Others?" Katie asks, only to be interrupted again by Mr. Invention. "Dinner is served, if you will come to the Captain's Mess."
Tasha doesn't answer immediately, instead looking to Katie for her lead.
"Oh.. yes, of course, dinner!" Katie says, standing up and smoothing out her jumpsuit. She offers Tasha a hand up.
Tasha stares at the hand as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but soon she accepts it, standing up and ending up in the alarming position of being unsure when or if to let go.
The Captain's Mess has had the fixed benches and long table removed and replaced with more elegant seating and a smaller table. The walls are covered with paintings of Expedition ships in deep space. Katie holds Tasha's hand all the way to the room, where a white-dressed Karnor waiter holds out a chair for Tasha, and Mr. Invention does the same for Katie.
Remembering at least this part, Tasha accepts her seat, smoothing her skirt under herself as she sits. It's only then she finds herself uncertain as to whether she should have seated herself last, but decides to soldier on anyway, trying to make up for the potential mistake by answers the question put to her.
"Well, there are others. I've spoken with a few AI, and some of them I've also acted as a pilot for," she explains. "Many of them have changed over the years due to the distortion of the Sifran Probability Matrix, and some of them make me a little uneasy. As their pilot, it is my duty to be there for them no matter what I feel. It's just that it's not as comfortable an experience as with Melchior. And, well, sometimes the potential they represent is a little daunting."
"I had no idea there were more like your Gryphon," Katie says, as the waiter pours a dark wine for each of them. "Oh, do you like beef? It's a bit of a delicacy on Abaddon."
"Oh, I think so? All the new meats on Abaddon are hard to keep track of, but beef ... That's Terran isn't it? From old Terra, that is. Beef is from ... cows? Bovines, I think they're also called. Terran cattle animals, used for their meat and brought from our homeworld alongside the rest of the Fleet," Tasha answers, glad that her most recent ramble is at least an intelligent one. "Have you ever piloted a Titan, Miss Vesuvius? With your motorcycle piloting skill, it seems like you'ld be very good at it."
A platter is brought out, covered in.. meat. Rare steaks, seasoned strips and large beef ribs. "Oh no, the Silent_Ones would never allow it," Katie notes. "The closest I've come is posing next to some of the museum ones. As for the Comet.. well, it's been a labor of love and frustration." She plucks a rib, and notes, "It's gone through sooo many engines. Pistons weren't powerful enough for the size needed, turbine was too heavy no matter what, and the current electric motor has to be rewound after every race.. and uses a molten sulfur battery, so.. you know when that starts to leak.."
The hybrid woman listens intentively, waiting until Katie pauses to take a bite to eat. She chews with a smile, not having had meat this good since they left Rephidim; she even remembers to swallow before speaking. "The Silent-Ones prohbit other species from using Titans? Or just their Titans? I've piloted one of theirs before, but it's a bit ... different, so I'm really the only one left who was really qualified to pilot it anyway." She takes another bite, giving her time to think about the question of engines before she suggests, "Internal combustions here suffer from inferior fuels to what was available in Fleet times. Have you tried injecting an oxygen rich mixture to increase combustion rate? Some are unstable, but others are stable at room temperature and safe to handle as long as the engine is sturdy enough."
"The Titanians have a fuel injector system," Katie notes. "We used a twin carburetor initially, but it kept choking. One of the engineers suggested using a miniature turbine just feed air to the engine, but it would compromised the bike's balance." She gnaws on her rib bone for a moment, then says, "Are you suggesting a compressed air tank maybe?"
"That's right. You can also use the aerodynamic shape of the bike to direct air, and reduce the intake area appropriately to create compression," the red woman answers. She holds her hands out, making a narrow passage between them, "If you use a narrow area in conjunction with your fuel injector system you can create an aerosol, a bit like how you can by blowing water and air through your mouth when it's almost closed. That should improve mixture, and if you add, say, nitrious oxide, you can further increase the O2 available for the combustion process, at least until your tank runs out."
"But you've probably already thought of that," Tasha admits before taking another bite.
"Are you taking notes, Mr. Invention?" Katie asks. The dapper wolf nods in return, although isn't actually writing anything down.
"Most of our vehicles aren't really made for speed," Katie notes to Tasha. "Stuff that operates outside the city has to be rugged and have sealed motors against dust. And inside the city.. well, no need to rush anywhere. Racing is the exception, and it still hasn't caught on. Even horse racing is of limited appeal in New Zion.."
Tasha glanced towards the fancy wolf, then she nodded to Katie as she spoke. "There's other ways too ... You can improve part geometry, such as the give-and-take of exhaust systems to permit the momentary vacuum caused by vented spent mixtures to time with the draw-in phase to provide more oxygen for combustion, and maybe a bit of unspent fuel too. One of my friends is very much in to motorcycles; she taught me everything I know, one way or another. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you."
"You make me want to get all greasy!" Katie says, and barks a laugh. "Oh, you have to try this steak. It's aged and marinated according to some ancient formula," she notes, and has a sip of wine.
Tasha blinks at the suggestion of 'getting to work,' quickly looking down at her meal and agreeing, "yes I should try the steak," before taking a bite and nodding. She swallows, then admits that it's, "very good," while she organizes her thoughts. After taking a sip of wine, she offers," "There's also valve and cylinder modification, other mechanicals like the transmission, adjusting ignition timing, tires, oils -- friction can really interfere with things -- fuel improvement, weight reduction through alternative materials, all sorts of things," and is glad for the distraction technical talk brings.
"I know about friction," Katie says. "Ever since my tail nearly caught on fire, I've been sure to use the very best lubrication. We don't have oil here on Abaddon, but we can make some good substitutes from plants."
Tasha inclines her head, though she continues to look at her meal as she talks. "M-making an oxygen rich formula would need a small laboratory and a compressor, but at least it shouldn't be flammable -- though some of there others are. At least with, um, exhaust geometry the only thing that goes wrong if you make a mistake is that the process can be hindered or interupted. Guages should be able to determine differences in performance readily."
"Interrupted exhaust pipes would be a bit troublesome," Katie agrees, grinning a bit as she has more wine. "Do you like music, Tasha?" she suddenly asks.
Tasha looks up in time to catch the smile, smiling back as she has a sip, too. "Oh, I think so? I don't get to listen to it very often. Music wasn't very common where I come from, so I'm not used to having it available or thinking much about it, really," she admits.
"Well, there's an exhibition of the New Zion Army Marching Band tomorrow morning," Katie says. "Would you like to go with me?"
Tasha's ears lift a little at the offer, the tenn woman watching the twenty-something for a moment before she nods, "I'd love to. There isn't much for me to do while I wait for my ... My work to need me again."
"Well, I can have Mr. Invention whip up something for you to wear tomorrow then, if you'd like to stay the night?" Katie asks. And Tasha catches a scent very similar to her own with that offer.
The red woman pauses as she's about to take a bite. It strikes her just how dangerous the offer that has been made is, and yet, here, in this elegant space, so far away from world-shattering events, deathless monsters, looming gods, and the ever present threat of physical and mental violence, she hesitates for the first time in her life. As she rushed forward to answer the question of the Magi, she never quite realized all that reaching her destination would entail. As she's draw closer, she's also felt her anxiety, her doubt grow. So many have tried to walk the same path, only to die. She could reach the end and disappear, or perhaps worse, become something so apart from this world that she can never return -- just as had happened upon finding the Fenris. Only this time, there may not be anyone to walk with her. She may not walk away at all. Her search has metamorphosized from a grand quest to nearly a death sentence, looming ever closer as she walks forward, shadowing her life until it's all she can see. Perhaps, all she'll have left. If that.
And yet, she cannot look away. She knows that some day, she'll stand before those gates. But that day is not today, and as she contimplates the long walk home in the dark, leaving behind the beauty and peace this place provides, like a haven, seperate from her life, she realizes how much she needs it. Being alone feels to her like ice in her veins, that clawing shadow of a future where she may be torn from this world and it's people -- people she loves, a city she believes in -- she can't speak the words, "no." Before she met Katie, she hadn't realized how desperate she just wanted to be a another person in the crowd, longing for someone greater than herself. She may not be able fulfill that longing, but at least today she can.
And she doesn't have to let it go. She can hold on, just a little longer.
"I ... "
She can be a part of this world, close to the one who made her remember, just a little longer.
"I'd like that."