The chime of the intercom woke Tasha, followed by Kaa squeakily announcing, "Arriving in Outpost Caltrop space shortly!" This was followed by an unmistakable raspberry sound.
She was feeling slightly hungover. There was a weight on her stomach - the Niss, most likely - and an odd feeling around her neck, like she was wearing a collar.
"Uuurgh," goes Tasha, although her heart really isn't in it. She's been hungover before -- many times -- but this is hardly the worst of it, and so knows her complaining is just that: Complaint rather than real discomfort.
Of course, it is still unpleasant.
After laying in bed for a while longer, Tasha slowly pulls herself up and rubs her face. The events of last night are blurry; Something about robbing the Kampfengruppe, space stations, spies and cats. It's made even blurrier by the weight in her head, and so she makes a decision: She doesn't have to put up with headaches anymore! Modern medicine will rescue her.
And while that's decided, it doesn't explain the other mysteries: Why is there a weight on her chest and why does she feel like she has a collar? The young woman puzzles over this, looking down.
The Niss is there on her stomach, looking a bit smaller than it should. Tasha doesn't remember putting it there when she passed out.. but then things are fairly fuzzy in that regard anyway.
Deeply hoping she didn't try to eat the Niss at some point, Tasha scoops the spheriod empire up and then searches around until she finds her shorts, top, and bathrobe. Shoes are, of course, unecessary. With burden in hand, she walks out. "Did I do anything weird last night?" She thinks at the Niss. "And why are you smaller? Does it have anything to do with me doing weird things?"
"We had to transfer 15% of ourself to maintain your expression," the Niss replies.
"Um, what?" Goes a bleary Tasha who wanders in to the Artifact Bay, then puts the Niss down on their pedestal. "My head is fuzzy."
"Incorrect, it is no longer fuzzy," the Niss reply, still in Tasha's head even though she isn't touching the mass anymore. "You would better refer to your head as being fluffy."
"Is my hair that bad? Why do I keep drinking ... " Inwardly swearing to never drink again, then inwardly knowing she's as likely to to keep that promise as become a Phin, she steps out of the Bay looking perplexed. Aside from the drinking trouble, she's not sure why she can hear the Niss. "Maybe I'm just getting more amazing?" She considers to herself as she steps in to the elevator. Next stop: 'Doctor' Jonas Knight.
The Karnors are probably on the bridge, and Yue in her room. One good indicator of this is the lack of the two Jotoks scuttling about - they'll stick to their chosen 'parents' whenever anything interesting is happening. Jonas is always in the medical bay whenever the ship is about to leave or arrive somewhere though. His back is turned to Tasha when she enters as he appears to be fine-tuning a complicated construction of glass tubes, condensers and heating elements.
Tasha, in her bathrobe, shorts and tank top, knows she must look like a milder form of hell. She normally wouldn't walk around like this, either, but she decideded this is her home and she's going to be comfortable in it. "H-hi Jo-nik," she greets the man, choking over her own words as she reaches over to pat his shoulder. Even my throat hurts, she laments. I hope Yue is okay.
The man turns around and.. freezes. "Tasha?" he asks cautiously.
"Th-that ba-k? Ah, bah-dah," the young woman asks, cocking her head to the side. "M' ha'r's a'muss n' so'm I."
"Mmmm," Jonas goes, and reaches for his data pad. "I know that I'm new, and may not be aware of all the nuances of your biology yet, but is this normal for you?" he asks, holding the tablet up in mirror mode. It's showing the picture of a Vartan, with the feathers mussed up on one side of her face from the pillow, and a golden crest of feathers that is equally in need of serious grooming. The eyes are bloodshot, at least, which is familiar. And there's some sort of gray rope wrapped around her neck.
And it's the rope that catches Tasha's eye as being out of place at first, before anything else really registers.
Tasha peers at the screen, there's a moment where she freezes, then her newly avain head parts its beak and flattens its ears. She stares for several more seconds and then reaches over to prod the rope on the screen -- remembers monitors do not work that way -- then reaches for her own neck to touch the chain. As she does, she never looks away from her own digitized reflection.
"S'new," she admits after a moment. "Wha's go-un ohn?"
"Well.. I doubt it is an allergic reaction," Jonas says. "Hyperspace travel can cause odd effects, sometimes.. but nothing this extreme."
"We are expressing you," the Niss tells Tasha. Which means the rope must be a piece of the Niss, since it's in contact with her.
The newly Vartanized woman fingers the cord as the rest sinks in. It's all a blurr until the Niss speak, at which point the pieces fall together rather abruptly. "O'couse!" She exclaims in her now-broken Standard. "I r'mambah nu!" She taps the Niss's chain, then lets it fall. She then turns her gaze on Jonas.
"S'kawnda awkwark in hindsaht. S'for Vahtah, planeh Vahath. Gah! S'hark to s'pek. Go'ink tah tahk some gahtink use to. Halp wik han'over?" She reaches up and goes to tap her head, but her finger slows down onece it makes contact with her feathers. The side of her beak creases in a bemused frown, then she continues to tap her head indicatively. "Thanks Niss. Sorry, I forgot. Gods, this is so awkward! And weird.//"
"Here, try this," Jonas says, and stands aside. His chemistry experiment is bubbling away, and he puts a beaker under a spigot and fills it with the brown liquid, then offers it to Tasha. He also steps back. "Be careful. If you're having trouble speaking then drinking should be done slowly and with caution."
"Mahm dohs 'i, 'ow 'ard can'ut bee?" Despite her bravado, Tasha takes it slowly anyway. She carefully tips the beaker back, moving her body in the same direction while leaving her head jutted out so she doesn't cover herself in brown goo and add to her incredibly strange morning.
Vartans do have lips, of a sort. They're just on the inside of the beak, along with hard serrated gums that help with grinding. They don't play much of a role in speech though.. but even Creens can mimic most voices just fine without the same oral equipment. It just takes practice. And the brown stuff is coffee - but the best coffee Tasha has ever encountered. It's not even bitter. Belter coffee must be used as medicine. It gives extra incentive for not spilling any.
"Ahh, pree'ty goo'," Vartan Tasha admits, turning around and shaking the contents at Jonas while smiling, well, beakily. "Hi' th'spaht. Sport? SPAHT. Gah, ahl figur' i' ou-t." She glances towards the hatch, then back again. "Ahm goin' t' thaw beege. Shand bah in'caws Gabrawkel ... Gabriol ... Grabre-awl ... Grabe needs som'think. Feens too.Goink t'beh awkwark." She then turns back towards the door, eyes it with clear trepedition, then finally shakes her head as she begins out with flask in hand. "Weesh mah lark!"
"You may want to at least.. comb.. your feathers first?" Jonas suggests.
The Vartan halts in the doorway, then reaches up and runs her hair back through her feathers. "Ahw, ri'. Grabe lahks mah mussee har, bu' this ees dif'run'. Yah dan theenk 'e'll hayte ih do yah?" She tries to bite her lip, but mostly just shifts her beak. "Ah go to geht reedy! Ahh, wha t'weer ... Stuphid werd ... Fahhhhhhh~"
And with that she speeds off towards the elevator, eyes wide and ears flat!
There's no one else on the VIP deck, of course, aside from the rest of the Niss. Tasha just has to remember how her mother would clean herself up.
With little time to waste, Tasha hurries about piecing together what beauty supplies she has in the hopes that she can approximate it all with what she has. As she already has feathered wings, her feather brushes, oils and cleaning supplies readily lend themselves to the task; The same can't be said for her hair supplies. Along with this effort, she pieces together something to wear from what she has. As her body is largely the same, she finds this effort be far less nerve wracking -- but still uneasy. After all, she distinctly remembers Gabriel declining to want to see her in a pure Vartan state and so now, on top of just trying to manage her new look, she also has to look that much better in the hopes Gabriel won't reject her.
A hectic half-hour follows, far longer than she wanted to take. A shower, oils (scented!), combing and wiggling in to her outfit then combing again when hernerves said it just isn't good enough. By the end, she's as ready to cry as step out of her chambers.
Still, she does manage something. Her crest has been combed to a aproximation of her old mohawk (leaving her also to wonder where her hair went), tilting to the left side. She's wearing her Vartan-cut half jacket, a nicer top with some slogan she doesn't recognize, booties, stockings, earrings, and a short skirt she'll hope Gabriel appreciates. She decides she looks a bit dangerous, even tartish, but she doesn't care -- she decides she looked a lot worse when they first met after all.
And with everything done and the only thing left to do is worry, Tasha steps on the elevator and goes to face the bridge.
The corridor leading to the bridge seems longer than it should be.. and also all too short. The doors to the bridge are waiting for her to pass through. That's when the Niss say, "We cannot maintain expression permanently. Do you require it be available for more than a few hours at a time?"
"You can't?" Tasha halts before the bulkhead hatch, wondering if she's been given a reprieve or a problem -- or both. "Yes, I'll be heading to Varta. I was going to use this to get ready for that -- I won't fit in as I normally am. Can you do it, Niss?" Meanwhile she fidgets, one taloned hand across the other.
"Extra energy will be required," the collective around Tasha's neck replies. "Practice will be needed. You must approach Kem the Artist and determine how well you can pass for Vartan."
"I'll see what I can do. he should know all about how to act, anyway. Well ... " The door gets eyed; A very avain sort of eying. "Off to get some emotional scars. If I start crying, um, just try ignore it okay?" And with that she heads inside.
Gabriel and Eli are both focused on their consoles. The view through the window shows normal space, with the Caltrop hanging like a gaudy ornament a considerable distance away, since it looks small. "There's plenty of small-vehicle traffic out there," Eli reports.
Rock is next to Gabriel's station, watching everything (which, with five eyes in a ring is pretty literal).
Expecting a wall of stares not unlike an Abaddonian firing squad, Tasha isn't prepared for nothing to have happened. The situation requires she build up her nerve again, so she just sort of lingers at the back of the room and continues to fidget.
She is noticed though. "Sleep all right, Tasha?" Gabriel asks without turning around. "We'll need to start loading up the shuttle soon."
Resisting the urge to squeel at the sudden attention, and ssupecting it'd sound terrible, the young woman actually backs away a step. "Slapht ... S'lupt ... Yah," she risks in response.
"Did you chew on your tongue in your sleep?" Gabriel asks, and then does turn around. His expression is one of surprise at first. "That's.. not a bad disguise, actually. You still smell the same though. How'd you manage it?"
"Mageek?" Tasha ventures, stepping a little closer but still edging off, afraid to get too close. "You lahk ut, Grabe?"
"You smell nervous, and your neck feathers are poofing out a bit," Gabriel notes. He gets up and comes over for a closer look. He even runs his fingers though Tasha's cheek feathers a bit.. all with a serious expression.
"Nees deed eet," the young woman admits, at first looking away when Gabriel touches her, then staring at the floor and continuing to fidget with her talons. "Issun a deesgu- ... Deeseguys ... Desguise. Jus' thamporary." She pauses, tries to bite her lip, then says, "S-sahree, Gra ... Gae-b."
"Try speaking in Vartan," Gabriel suggests. He then checks over his shoulder to see if Eli is watching or not. "Something I've been wondering about though.." he all but whispers to Tasha.. and this hands are up under inside her top, and rubbing. The surprise of the gesture isn't as shocking as the.. lack of sensitivity? "Feathers on nipples.. they'd either be constantly maddening or desensitized, so.. which is it?" he asks.
This ellicits a muffled squawk from Tasha, which she tries to clamp down with effort. Her cheeks puffs out such to make her face looks very fluffy, and her eyes are wide. The fidgeting stops, at least: It's replaced by squirming. "G-gone," she manages to stammers out in Vartan nearly half a second later. "You don't mind, gabe? This is really awkward, and, um, I was worried you woul-" A shift from the man's hands abruptly ends whatever she was going to say.
With a final squeeze, Gabriel withdraws his hands, and winks at Tasha. "Well, it's only temporary," he says. "I remember all that stuff we recovered on the Orpheus... so just don't get too deep into the disguise, hmm? I can't lick your nose like this."
The comment causes Tasha to giggle, or rather warble-giggle, even as she wraps her arms around her chest and shifts in place. Once Gabriel heads back to his seat, Tasha joins him at her own. "You really kept all that stuff from Orpheus?" She risks in hushed Vartan. "When did you learn to speak Vartan, anyway?"
She smells quite a bit different now, too. The anxiety is still there, though much reduced, and there are other scents which are entirely Gabriel's fault.
"I never said I could speak Vartan," Gabriel notes. "I spent some of my time in the Pit learning to understand it though."
"You should learn it, I'd like that. You know, this is what I should have looked like -- without magic I mean." Tasha goes about opening the local map, noting the heavy traffic and recalling how much of a pain docking was last time. She begins setting a course, though the input is slower as she gets used to two taloned, three-fingered hands rather than one. "I'm glad you don't hate this, you know. Thank you, Gabe."
"Maybe you can manage a full Karnor one sometime," Gabriel says, but seems to be joking. "Not that I'd take advantage.. I see you've got part of the Niss on you in order to do any of this, and somehow having an audience of trillions is a bit overwhelming."
"I'm sure they've seen it all by now, besides maybe I'll take advange. I always wondered how that stuff from Orpheus worked." The course is plotted and the path is anything but clear. The whole trip line is littered with 'adjust as needed' and 'incoming predicted traffic from X orientation at Y speed' warnings. "A full Karnor would be Nora, though. Shorter, curvier, better in every way, me-Nora."
With a course plotted for Dark Horse's parking spot (which Kaa would at least be familiar with, since it involves hiding in an out of the way asteroid field) and one for the shuttle, it's time to pack for the trip to Caltrop and eventually back to Abaddon. "The shuttle might feel a bit cramped," Eli warns. "It's a passenger hauler, so you'll need to make room for the cargo."
"Dohn mine mah," Tasha says as she rises, waiting where she stands until Gabriel has joined her before ducking under his arm. "Iah grew uph inah shap."
"Well, you may not be riding in the shuttle," Gabriel notes to Tasha. "Unless you want to leave Melchior here?"
"Ahh! Mehl. Are whee ... FAH." The young Vartan woman throws her hands up in frusteration, which gets Gabriel some swatting. "Vartan it is! Will we be ready for the Hall? Unless daikaiju attack, I probably won't need Mel otherwise."
"Well, do you want to run the risk of needing him and not having him?" Gabriel asks.
"That's a good point, I'll go suit up then. Oh ... " Tasha slips from Gabriel's arm, then steps around Eli and, walking backwards, points at herself! "Ahm a Vhatan! Beahky beahk, awrk," she declares, then winks at Gabriel and rushes off before the scientist has a chance to respond!
It takes an hour or more to actually get things in place. The hyperwave node is too big to easily be secured inside the shuttle, unlike most of the other loose bits that Fred requested - netting and tarps help there. The node itself will need to be carried by Melchior, but the facade-armor has plenty of mounting points to attach it too, and with some rearranging it can be completely hidden.
"We've got a choice," Gabriel notes. "You can have Mel try to ride on the shuttle, or I could tow you behind it. Towing is easier, usually."
"Whatever you think is best," Tasha replies as she looks between two piles of armor, one her Achillies environmental armor and the other the Titanian armor she made for hserlf. "I'm a Vartan piloting a Titanian robot, so, Titanian armor or Vartan armor? Either way, this is going to raise some eyebrows. The Khattans will have nightmares."
"Vartan armor," Gabriel notes. "The whole reason for the Titanian armor was to hide your Vartan features. Now you're all Vartan features though."
"Alright. I'll suit up then. I hope no one cares too much that it's an ancient model. But I guess piloting extra-parts Mel, assuming I'm a scavenger or junker would be easy." Stepping closer, she begins pulling off her clothes, leaving them in a neat pile and herself in her undersuit. "I'll just get ready, then. Can you handle the rest Gabe?"
"I'll rig up the tow line," Gabriel says. "One of Fred's items was a kilometer of superconducting sheathed monofilament.. that should work."
"Fred always has the most interesting stuff," Tasha notes as she gets dressed -- again. "I should talk to him when we get back. Anyway, see you soon. I'll board once I'm done so I can help tie things." And with that she gets to work.
Riding behind a shuttle by a thread was.. not very exciting, as it turns out. The distance and time involved made it all rather boring. But finally they reached the familiar docking platform. There wasn't a hulking Titanian 'merchant dreadnought' waiting there, however. Securing the shuttle was easy enough, mostly by having Mel stand over it in an intimidating (if frozen) pose.
"They should show up before too long," Gabriel says. "Caltrop needs its fish, after all."
At least the long trip gave Tasha a chance to practice her Standard, an experience that reminded her a great deal of her previous attempt to do so. Like before, with effort and thinking of the way Nora -- and now Kem, Shojo, and other Vartans -- spoke helped her work it out to a state that's at least largely comprehensible. She also gains an immense appreciation for Vartan pidgin, the dropping of words, as the fewer words she has to speak the easier a time she has of it. All in all, the boredom was still boring, but at least not wasted.
Standing on the deck near Gabriel, the young Vartan turns to the man from viewing her Titan and says, "Yah, cycle is about two week, give take? You tell others of me on trip?" She asks.
"I don't see that they need to know," Gabriel says. "We may have to pick up Dr. Sen before we leave as well. She's supposed to contact us after she's been in contact with her boss, which she wasn't going to do until they reached the old mining outpost."
"Hokay. I like her, she come with. Uh, tell you about that later. Where we going? Kem-time? Mint-time? You get Karnor army again, make me jealous?" Tasha inquires as they beging to walk, moving to walk along side the man with her helmet in her hands.
"I'll keep my suit on, should cover my scent," Gabriel says, and starts walking towards the entry into the interior. "Now.. just so I don't have another surprise, am I going to see another nude painting of you at this guy's studio?"
"Nah," the young woman insists, reaching over to pat the man's arm. "He already make it, I have it in room. Was scared you not like, so hide it. Want for cabin later?"
"Yes, I want for cabin later," Gabriel says, and chuckles. "You are a pushover for artists, I suspect. I'd carry a camera and a brush and canvas if I thought they gave me the power to make women shed their clothes on request.. err, when I was younger, that is."
"Hah, you do and I have something to say that!" Despite ominous warnings, Tasha ducks under Gabriel's arm again, hugging on to it. "I push over for lots of people, kind of easy right? Evil pirate, two fancy artist, short scholar, Katie starlet, space captain!" She then leans over and kisses his chest, being under arm. "Space captain favorite though. Oh hey, I have brush, maybe work for me?"
"Well.. if we have /time/.." Gabriel semi-agrees as they enter the spire, their path curving around in defiance of how gravity is supposed to work. The endless bazaar stretches forward/downward and around to be overhead as well. "Keep an eye out for anyone looking too casual," he suggests.
"Like us?" Tasha exits Gabriel's arm though, instead holding his hand wit her left so she has a clear field of view. "Maybe get souvineer? Uh, many souvineer. For people, home. Spy like cat -- funny looking right?"
"Like.. people trying to not look at us," Gabriel says. "Holding hands may cause a scene as well."
"Fah I miss ship already." The hand gets released and Tasha steps away, instead walking slightly behind and to the right of Gabriel to make him look like her superior. "I look, I look." And so she does.
"Maybe we get weapons some time," she notes a minute later, peering around as casually as she can -- not a unusual move for a vision-fixated species.
More than ever, she notices the shinies. The vendors all have shiny things or mirrors out now to try and lure the Vartan to their stalls. "Pretty beads!" "Feather gloss!" "Beak polish!" they hawk. At least they don't seem to be fixating on Gabriel this time.
"At least they not call me barbarian," Tasha murmurs to her mate, head turning too and fro in the eternal battle between looking at shinies and doing what she's supposed to do. "So many trin-ket. Gah, is not fair. No time. Distracting. Should have worn glasses. Stupid." It's all as distracting as she expects it to be, dropping her focus quite a bit further than she'd like, and dangerously at that. There's nothing scarier for my money than Vartan-savvy shopkeepers, she decides, having been in this position many times before -- often to her bankruptcy.
One stall is selling Vartan booze, all in beak-friendly bottles that themselves are made to be attractive to Vartans. They look like they're made of stained or metalized glass in multiple colors. The Vartan behind the counter smiles and waves to Tasha (his talons covered in shiny rings). "Best Vartan beer this side of Altair," he squawks to Tasha.
Tasha pauses momentarily, then reaches over and swats at Gabriel. "Save me from shinnies, maybe buy me beer too?" She asks, or rather pleads.
"For souvenirs?" Gabriel asks with a grin.
"For head, this make hurt. Very painful. For purse and head." Turning, the young woman makes her way over to the booth with Gabriel in tow and looks around. "Have anything from Varta?" She asks, leaning in for an unnecessarily closer -- but shiner -- look.
"Better!" the man claims. "All microbrews from Jinx. Heavy gravity process, makes for smooth, powerful grog."
"Fah. Hokay whatever, just pick some out from here and there, put in bag, talk to big man for price. Shinnies not work on him. Oh, and give me the bag." Tasha scoots aside so Gabriel can join them, then waits impatiently for the transaction to take place and her beer to be made ready. "Sorry," she asides to Gabriel while they wait.
A few moments later, and Tasha has a bag that goes 'clink' whenever she moves. It has a nice weight to it as well. "Huh," Gabriel says. "He took Stars instead of Shekels. Wouldn't expect that from a Vartan."
"Stars? Silent-One stuff?" The Vartan woman inquires as they walk along. She slips her arm through the mag's straps, allowing her to carry it under-arm and keey her hands free -- just in case. She might be from a backwater "dark planet," but she's no stranger to dangerous bizarres. "See any danger maybe?"
"No, just another form of Galactic currency," Gabriel notes. "Celestial Empire in origin, I think. Still.. Vartans usually deal in Khattan currency." He looks around, and says, "Nothing unusual so far. How's your sense of smell now?"
Tasha snuffles a moment, then shakes her head. "Bad, smell like through sheet. Not help." Inwardly she's glad her sense of smell is out of the way; If she had to endure any more concentrated marketing from any more senses, she might well bankrupt the mission unless Gabriel stopped her first. "Not see anything either. Oh: Here, lot of outcast. Kem one. Vartan not fit in, wander. Leave home. Different. Not always work for Khattun."
"Right.. everyone here is trying to get away from something, most likely," Gabriel says. "Or just prefers doing business in less-than-legal merchandise."
Another stall they pass is manned by a Naga, which doesn't even try to get their attention. The shop is all large transparent bins.. full of kittens and puppies and other small furry creatures.
"I always with shady. Try be respawlktahble, still shady." Having her own shinnies to carry -- not to mention drink -- at least makes resisting further temptation easier. At least, until the Naga. "Hey Gabe, Naga sell pet? That cat, like, Terran-cat? No Silent, no Khattun?"
"Yeah, Terran domestic cat," Gabriel says after a sniff. "Probably dual purpose stall though. Food for Nagas and their nasty clients, pets for others. Most Celestials that don't take up asceticism use wigglers instead. Basically digestible tubes with different surfaces, packed with synthetic meat that wiggle when swallowed."
Tasha recoils, even though she realizes she should have guessed the result -- such a stall would have been at home on Sinai after all. She chalks it up to havign been away from Naga culture for a while now, but still leaves her ears canted and her beak edged in a glum twist. "Kind of sad. Never see cat before. Maybe Yue like? Maybe Katie like, kind of lonely." She doesn't ask outright, but does glance over with a wide-eyed, sad expression. it migth have been a great ruse, if it wasn't genuine.
"Need to be careful transporting animals to new planets," Gabriel notes. "Especially the Primus system. Those cats could have diseases that are transmissible to cat-based sapients."
"Oh. Yah. Hokay," is Tasha's less than enthusiastic agreement. She fishes out one of the bottles, then works on popping the lid off as they continue along.
"Save at least some of that for Rapatia and the others," Gabriel chides. They finally enter the more Terran area, centered around the Surf 'n Turf tavern. Kem's studio is right across from it. There are mostly Karnors and Pans and Humans now, with the occasional robotically-assisted Phin.
"Maybe if she lucky." Tasha throws back a swig, but does put the lid right back on after a few more and tucks the bottle away. As they make their way in to the Terran area proper, she asks, "I be okay here? Karnor and Vartan together lots? Not?"
"Your friend is a Vartan with a Phin girlfriend, isn't he?" Gabriel asks. "And he's right across from the main Terran hangout.. which also attracts a lot Silent-Ones and Vartans I recall. If they don't have a problem with him they shouldn't mind us."
"Make sense. Not sure why ask." Tasha follows along, and soon she and Gabriel are infront of Kem's studio once more. "I bet he sick of us by now. Say not get involved, involve him. Fah, he survive! Want come in? I go?" She turns towards the Karnor, brows raising and crest along with it.
"You ask because you have never been here before," Gabriel points out with a smirk. "I'd like to meet him. Someone has to vouch for you too, in case he doesn't recognize you."
"He better, he talk me naked and want see this. If not, I swat until do." With no further questions, Tasha pivots in place and pushes the door open, stepping inside.
Lielani is dusting. She's in her walking rig, but has an old fashioned wooden-handled feather duster in her mouth. The feathers look like Kem's. She passes this off to a manipulator when patrons arrive. "Hello!" she greets. "Are you looking for art, or looking to be art?" she asks.
Tasha folds her arms. "I am art. Step off painting to come swat pervy boyfriend." She looks around a moment, then returns her attention to the Phin. "Hi Lielani. Not Titanian today, try something new. Kem around? I here make his life hard more."
"You're not one of his exes at least," the dolphin notes, and Tasha feels the familiar tingle of sonar. "Hold on, I'll let him know you're here." The Phin scutters around on the spidery robot legs and uses her head to knock the door to the inner studio open. "Crazy Tasha back, with big bruiser to beat your ass if you try anything!" she yells into the room.
"I like her," Gabriel tells Tasha.
"I'm in the middle of a portrait," Kem squawks back. "What she want this time?"
"Hey!" Tasha turns to gabriel as she enters, grinning at the edge of her beak. "You bruiser this time! Usally me. Relationship new level, yah?" She leans over and dolphin-noses -- or beaks-butts anyway -- his chest. "Me too," she admits as her head goes back. "Almost shoot me when meet, but okay now. Kind of funny. Call squeaky fish, fun fun."
When the response comes, Tasha exits Gabriel's space and turns btowards the rear exit. "Want visit Varta, need scare Kem with new face. Exciting!"
"She wants to know where the best bars are on Varta," is how Lielani decides to relate this.
"Fine, she can come in," the artist relents. "Almost done.."
"Hah, I win." Without further ado, Tasha heads right on back. "Maybe talk to squeaky fish Gabe? She interesting, sing great song."
Inside the study, Tasha doesn't find Kem painting on a canvas, but directly on the subject. A tall Belter woman with a silver mohawk stands in the center, wearing a nearly transparent, skin-tight spacesuit. Kem is applying paint to it with a pistol-like device, so that it looks like a serpent is coiling around the woman (and conveniently keeping her modest). A second look confirms that the 'serpent' is actually Sutaranakh the Moon Goddess (complete with moon). "Be right with you," Kem says, not looking up from his work yet.
Rather than interupt, Tasha walks over to the most distant corner of the room from the work and sits herself down on the floor. She could tease, but as an artist herself, she can't help but feel that would be crossing some holy line of artist solidarity. Instead she decides to watch, and with her vision, needn't be close to take up the details. She recognizes the serpent immediately, though she's rather surprised to see the image on a Human.
The painting tool is withdrawn, and Kem as the model do a full rotation and then some stretching. "Holding up well," he says, while the woman checks the work out in front of a mirror. Being long and lithe, she can actually twist around to easily see the back in the mirror. "Perfect, Kem. I'll go settle up with Lielani as usual?" she asks, her voice having a musical note to it.
Kem nods. "Try not to tear this one though, eh?" he says as the woman leaves. Then he turns his attention on Tasha. "Ah, like the painting so much you decide to take on the look?" he asks.
"Hah, you wish pervy Kem," Tasha replies from the floor, peering up at the much taller other-Vartan. "This what I look like, anyway, past doggy-face. But not here for art: Want to go to Varta, got to look Vartan, yah? So, look Vartan. Need help. Need IDs, background, help fit in; Lots of things. Got money this time. Lots of fun, bring beer too. So, help?"
"Help? You want me to help you get to Varta?" Kem asks, his feathers ruffled a bit. "Where on Varta, exactly?"
"Here and there, got research to do. Need visit colonies too. You really want know?" The younger Vartan inquires, head cocking to the side. "Thought you not want to."
"I want to know what I'd be getting myself into," Kem says. "So details matter. Are you asking just for help getting there.. or do you need someone to guide you?"
"Get there, maybe know how to fit in. IDs, if can. Place to go. Uh ... " Tasha fishes out her old Vartan datapad, cycling through the menus until she arrives at what she wants. "Like to visit university, kind of nice? Fall of Horus, maybe Horus temple? There any? And colony. Time find Moraeu. To, to Moraeu."
"You haven't gotten the hang of Terran Standard yet," Kem says in Vartan. "You can read Vartan though, apparently. I know someone on Varta that might help you once there. Forging an identity that will actually hold up to scrutiny is not something I can help with. I don't know anyone who could. There are surely spies here from everywhere though. I imagine they get together for tea and cookies. Caltrop is that sort of place. Do you know any spies, off hand?"
"I'm surrounded by spies. I think I might be a spy, but don't tell me -- that would ruin the surprise," the young woman replies in Vartan as clear as space. "So, you know someone? I hate to ask -- I do like teasing you -- but, who? And I swear, as one Vartan to another, I'm not going to Vartan to cause trouble -- well, not if I can help it -- and I'm not a spy for any government. I'm not trying to hurt Varta or Vartans." She lays a hand over her heart, then adds, "I work for myself with a small group of people. I'm actually doing research, but I'd like to help Doctor Moraeu because I believe in what he seems to be doing."
"A monk," Kem claims. "Very scholarly. Likes to take pictures. That's where my backdrop of Horus comes from."
"I used to be a religous figure, under a priestess. I'm sure we'll get along great. What's a monk of?" Asks the cobbled together temporary Vartan.
"Mysteries of Thoth," Kem says. "Lots of Mystery Cults on Varta still, though most Vartans are animists."
"Belief in spirits? Me, too. Every ship!" The young woman grins, then leans back against the wall and reachs up to brushes her feathered mohawk back in to place. "So, Thoth. Son of Horus and Seth? That should be interesting. I'm very fond of mystery cults."
"Fond? Do you belong to one?" Kem asks. "In any case, if you can acquire the necessary credentials, I can set up a meeting."
"I did, and you could say I do now too. I'm aware of a few others, as well. You could say I'm very interested in Horus, but also Thoth and Seth. Learning more about them would be wonderful." The young woman then nods, spreading her hands. "I'm sure I can come up with something, I usually do. Hopefully, it'll be straightforward for once. Any other questions?"
"Open your beak," Kem requests, oddly.
"If you kiss me the big bruiser man will beat you ass!" Despite the warning, Tasha opens her beak anyway.
The artist peers inside for a moment, then pulls back and nods. "You have a pink tongue," he notes.
The beak closes, but then opens to ask, "Is that bad?"
Kem briefly sticks out his own blue tongue. "When you look for an identity, it should be from Kastiche, not Varta. It is one of the oldest colonies, and its people have distinctive pink tongues."
After taking a look, Tasha leans back and raises her brows, ears perking. "Oh! That's very helpful. See, I knew you were the right choice. I'm sure you'd be a great spy contact. If I were a spy. "She winks, then asks, "So, Kastiche. Can you tell me about the planet? The people?"
"It's very metropolitan, nearly equal to Varta," Kem describes. "Of course, it was originally a showroom world. After the Khattans became our Patrons, they wanted to show off what we could do as worldbreakers. It is also where most of the Khattan military forces were trained and drawn from. They're known for being a bit more aggressive and blunt than native Vartans."
"Aggressive and blunt ... I don't know, I'm not sure I'll fit in." The younger Vartan's head cocks to the side, then she just sticks her pink tongue out.
"Lots of Kastichian blood out in the stars. Always the first to break ground on new colonies," Kem says. "For a long time, other species only knew that breed. Helped to keep Varta hidden."
"I have access to some old Terran records that don't even list the Vartan -- erm, our -- homeworld, so that must be recent -- relatively speaking of course. Ever hear of a Clan called 'Harbinger'?" Asks the faux-but-not-really Vartan.
"Sounds like a breaker or military clan name," Kem notes. "Other than that.. no. There are thousands of Clans."
"An old Clan, long gone. I have some of their old artifacts. I'm an archaeologist, in a sense -- not that anyone believes that." The young woman peers at the older man, then asks, "How do I seem, Kem-Kem? Maybe that will help me pick a career? I'm younger, so, I shouldn't need an extensive history, right?"
"Farmgirl," Kem suggests. "On a pilgrimage to the homeworld. Won't be expected to know a lot. Can feign ignorance by way of growing up in a strict, isolated religious household. Nobody questions people about their religion on Varta, is seen as rude. Farming is respectable though, even if few in the cities know what it is."
"That sounds very relaxing. I remember visiting farms, so maybe I can use that somehow. It's funny, people used to call me a city girl. I guess it's all in where you go?" Tasha shakes her head, then leans forward. "I'll have another Vartan with me, by the way. A big man, tacturn. Dry wit. Kind of a smartass. He does't show a lot of emotion; can't, really. A disease when he was young. How about him?"
"How old is he?" Kem asks.
"A few years older than I am," is the not-hybrid's response.
"Big brother, maybe training to be priest," Kem suggests. "Lots of Kastichian priests. Farmers always seen as being purer in their spirituality for dealing with live animals and growing plants."
Tasha's smirks, one side of her beak up. "Not like unwholesome types like us, right? Did you know I used to love a pirate?" The smirk fades, her shoulders slumping as she drops back against the wall. "Kem, what's the worst crime a Vartan can commit, you think ..?"
"Fratricide," Kem says.
"Well, there's that at least." Tasha gives a weak smile, then turns and stares off in to the studio. Her ears cant back, and her frown deepens. "I'm worried about going to Varta, Kem. I'm bringing the man with me so I don't end up losing myself there. But, a part of me doesn't feel like I belong there. I'm only half-Vartan, and, well, recently I had to kill someone. Someone I cared about, Kem. And, I wondered what sort of Vartan would do that."
"If they weren't family, it isn't that big of an issue," Kem claims. "We're passionate. That means we can lose control. Murder is a crime of passion on Varta most of the time. Usually lovers."
"Really?" Tasha asks, looking back. "What if they were killed to save them? What if they didn't deserve mercy?"
The young woman then blinks, head tiltling. "I'm Vartanizing again, aren't I."
"Anything like that would be judged on a case-by-case basis," Kem says. "Just don't kill anyone while you're there and you should be fine."
"Whatever desire to kill I might have had, it's gone now. I do what I have to, to keep going. I'm a little tired of all the fighting, and the death, especially. It wasn't what some people amde it out to be." The visitor shakes her head, then tilts it the other way. "Any other advice? I don't want to keep my 'big bruiser' waiting too lomg, and I'm sure you're busy."
"Make sure you trust whoever is getting the identities for you and your friend," Kem says. "If they only ask for monetary payment, be wary. One that asks for a favor instead is likely to be more honest and reliable."
"That sounds like the advice of someone who is better at spying than he likes people to believe." The smirk returns, Tasha sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, head resting on them as she peers at Kem with renewed intensity. "If only I knew how much I could trust. I guess we'll see, won't I?"
"It's the same advice I was given when I was moving to Caltrop," Kem says. "Good luck, Tasha."
"Sorry, I think I'm becoming suspicious . At this rate, I'll end up a Khattan." Rising, Tasha leans over and offers her hand to the man. "Thanks for helping me, Kem. I know you would rather not being involved, so I'm sorry for that. I can at least tell you, that maybe it's all for a good cause. An important one. But even if it were just for me, well, I'd probably still be here. So take it all as you will. But if you ever need a favor in return, just look for us. We'll be there to help."