2078/Hanging out with Wo

Hanging out with Wo
Date of Scene:	23 April 2015
Location:	Boston-666
Synopsis:	Psyber and Wo just sorta eat sandwiches.
Cast of Characters:	253, Wo

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Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber has, in his infinite wisdom and having some downtime from more pressing projects to work on only slightly less pressing projects, invited Wo to Boston. There was no stated reason beyond requesting her presence for a social call and some general fraternization. It was hypothetically her duty as envoy to respond, though the request also clearly stated she could refuse.

    Which brings us to present location: Psyber has found a couple benches near the Boston docks, figuring Wo would want to hang out near the ocean as a matter of comfort. He has a couple brown paper bags with him. The weather is mostly mild, overcast and in the low 50s in temperature. The time of year means the sun is just starting to go down in the late evening. It's a pretty relaxed setting.

Wo has posed:
    The kind of pleasant and mild atmosphere one could even have a fated encounter in. Not that it is expected to be the purpose of summoning her here. Like Psyber, the Wo-class aircraft carrier has had a lot on her plate, lately, some of which had no doubt reached his ears through reports on the Union side. There had been little opportunity to perform a function that had almost threatened to become routine, just a couple of weeks ago, with things once again threatening to become heated. That's why the timing had been terribly curious: It's not that she doesn't trust him, as he had never shown reason to be suspicious. Just..why now?

    Opting for a lower profile than usual, her approach would likely be easily missed, for once. With her flight deck almost, but not quite, fully repaired, she's opted for a spare, as well as something closer to the clothing a surface dweller might wear. She'd still checked in with the Coast Guard, as is customary, but it's hard to imagine her posing any threat in her current configuration, and especially with no accompaniment this time. "Psy-ber," she speaks, as her footsteps bring her closer, to hopefully identify herself if he had any doubts. "You..wan-ted to see, me?" There's just a slight edge to her that he would have seen somewhat fade before, which is hard to read since her facial expression is as subdued as usual. Maybe just the atmosphere around her.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber holds one of the two paper bags out to her. If she opened it, she'd find it was a tunafish sandwich, some potato chips, and a can of soda. Granted, not the way it's normally prepared. For Wo's metal eating tastes, he literally stuck three unopened cans of Tuna on a roll with some cheese, "Yeah. I wanted to see how you were doing. I heard the Abyssals fended off an attack from the Fleet Daughters recently and there was some heavy damage on all sides."

    The half-angel tilts his head a bit, "I figured you wouldn't get sunk, but I wanted to check in and see how damaged you were," He notes, eyes narrowing a bit as he keeps his watch on her. He takes his own sandwich out of the bag and takes a bite out of it, "Your big hat is gone."

Wo has posed:
    Leave it to Psyber to think that far ahead, about something as otherwise simple as a sandwich. She continues openly staring for a few moments, even as one of the paper bags is offered forward, a gesture that for most would obviously indicate it's supposed to be for her. After a few moments more, she finally gets the idea, taking it into her gloved hands and opening it. Her eyebrows are easily the most expressive thing about her, and they tilt inward quizzically. "Ah..supply." After that realization, especially once Psyber himself begins to dig in - was he really holding off on that until she arrived? - she moves to take a seat, leaving ample personal space and further inspecting the contents. It doesn't seem to be out of mistrust, but curiosity.

    Her hand tightens somewhat around one of the cans at the words spoken, denting it with alarming ease but thankfully not rupturing it. This is accompanied by her head lapsing forward so that what's there of a hat can shield her eyes, to a degree. A deep breath later, and she reassembles the sandwich as Psyber had done, though not taking a bite just yet. "I am..un-damaged," she remarks, before further clarifying, "Surface dweller-form body - that is. ..flight deck, bombed. Still - in repairs." That would at least explain that, without any further need. "I am...sorry. My duties as, an emissary. Still - secondary. Things..are out of, con-trol again." She finally does help herself to the sandwich, which she appears to have no real effort in biting into and chewing, despite what's in it.

    "I..do not, blame them," she speaks again, around a second, half-chewed bite. Tsk, manners! "..this is - as it, always has been. The ugli-ness.. May-be, we are..cursed." This is more frank than she is even with her own kind. It's unspoken that she expects this to be said in confidence.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "Mm. It is an ugly and unfortunate inevitability of war," Psyber says to her honestly. He stretches out his legs a bit on the bench and opens the can of soda from his own bag, sipping it a bit, "Despite my considerable skill in fighting, I prefer non-violence more in the current state of things." Wo can, if nothing else, mis-attribute Psyber's return to formality to the weather as opposed to the stress of unseen factors.

    "I am glad you are undamaged, though," An odd thing for, of all people, the Admiral of the Fleet to be saying. But he looks over at her and gives her a nod, taking another bite of his sandwich and swallowing it, "I understand that your duties will come first. I won't hold them against you any more than I would hope you would not hold it against me if I was ever forced to move against the Abyssals to recover Kongou once more." He admits.

    "Being cursed, hm?" He says after another long pause, "Perhaps. But I don't think cohabitation is as impossible as it was even a few months ago. The Fourth Mobile has taken to, at the least, you. And I think, of your sisters, perhaps you are the one most capable of providing a vector of understanding between the sides."

Wo has posed:
    "Peace..takes strength," uttered somewhat lower in volume, perhaps a spoken, errant thought. Wo allows herself to expand on it, even if it was unintended to be vocal, however, facing Psyber directly again, "Some-times - even more, than fighting." What could have been a pointed and insightful remark is spoiled, somewhat, by a stray bit of tuna that's found its way on her cheek. One that she belatedly realizes is there, as she just as quickly turns away again, to consciously fix the issue. She can be heard to murmur 'wo' a few times as she frets over it. Even an old vet like her can be embarassed sometimes, huh?

    After that is over, though, she regains her former composure. "I - would not," she confirms. "The one, calling herself. Kon-gou..has a strong, connection, with you. ..that is why, she is..lost, to us." She goes silent for a few moments, staring at the sandwich in her hands, with its tuna intermingled with shorn off steel. Her mind goes back to the last sortie that Psyber had mentioned earlier, especially the I-class that had broken out of formation. She had no direct confirmation, of course, but the last broadcast she had received before contact was lost sounded...happy. Happy in ways abyssals typically aren't. She should be glad that they were able to break free from whatever still has her and her sisters anchored, but instead it only makes her feel even more empty, at whatever this hole is that still eats at the corner of her mind.

    She snaps out of whatever had suddenly seized her, after a few uneasy seconds, all but visibly lapsing out of it with a start and a light gasp. Reaching a hand up to rub at her forehead slightly. What was she just thinking about? "--sorry. Yes.. Now, more than..be-fore, we need. This place. Otherwise..it will only be, fighting." She does manage to look a bit curious at what he mentions next, though, daring to finish off the rest of her sandwich as her eyebrows once again do most of her emoting for her. "Me?" The sudden weight of responsibility can almost be seen landing on her shoulders, "..I'm..no-thing special. Dar-win, or Samar..so much more, elo-quent." Despite her subdued and near monotone speech, she sounds uneasy with this.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "It can, yes. It can also lead to immense amounts of disappointment when what you do is not enough," Psyber admits to her pretty flatly. He doesn't remark about the tuna, perhaps understanding that Wo needs to not be teased quite YET, until she's used to human customs. Maybe the next time they eat together and she tries ribs or something.

    "Kongou, many members of the Fourth, actually. I am, by my nature, not someone who leaves people behind or abandons those who look to me for protection. It is, perhaps, a flaw in my nature as a guardian," He says to Wo seriously, "It is difficult to go against the concepts that define us. Painful, even." Psyber looks to Wo, "Perhaps this is why the Abyssals are in pain so often?" He postulates, "Ships were built to carry people, to open the world. But you must strike out violently because you will not be hurt otherwise. But it still must hurt to defy your purpose like that."

    Philosophy aside, Psyber gives her a nod, "Barring someone betraying the agreement and attacking my city, I will try to keep it as open to your visits as I can," He replies. And then he adds, "Darwin is nice, but Samar... mm." He thinks for a long moment on phrasing, "You are more genuine. That is its own kind of strength. People will listen to you because you do not use eloquence so much as speak what you feel."

Wo has posed:
    Something that she had thought was a weakness, could be its own kind of strength? As much as she appreciates what Psyber is trying to say, the carrier still can't quite completely wrap her head around it. Wo gets enough of the gist to confirm, "Believe..I understand. That is..re-assuring. ..words, do not come - easily." She is suddenly thinking back to the Fourth Mobile, and their last meeting. They treated her well enough, even if she could still see what looked like doubt, in that light cruiser calling herself Isuzu's eyes. This manifests as a thoughtful look, as she rummages in her brown bag some more, though to Psyber's own admitted flaw, she similarly defies it, "To pro-tect..is a good - quality. Even in, an 'enemy'. ..I think, in my - old life, as now. Many Destroyers, were around me." She looks a bit pointed, having withdrawed a soda can, "--their feelings, are strong. You've..probably seen it. ..on, your side."

    She moves on from her own doting on how loyal Destroyers might be, since there's more important things to discuss, even if it is somewhat related. She had purposefully waited to respond to the half-angel's mulling over what their nature might be. Something like that has to be thought about deeply, as she herself has only the vaguest notions of why she came back - and kept coming back. All she can really offer is what she herself knows, "We are all..in-complete. There is - something, missing." That is, frustratingly, judging by her eyebrows again, about the extent of what she can consciously realize. "It does not - mean..we are broken. Or, have to be..saved, or fixed. As I have..heard, over global radio. But we..all seek, that some-thing. Samar gave us..a purpose. A fam-ily." She then goes quiet, fussing again with the can - perhaps expecting it to open like a fuel drum, before seeming to give up and just bite into the side with elongated canine teeth. CANPIRE, AH.