1624/Parley with the Abyssals

Parley with the Abyssals
Date of Scene:	20 February 2015
Location:	Boston-666
Synopsis:	Psyber meets with Samar to talk terms and motives. Wo is along because her hat is amazing.
Cast of Characters:	253, 494, Wo

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Psyber (253) has posed:
    There are many neutral locations throughout the Multiverse, enforced and otherwise! The place Psyber has arranged to meet is one such location, but it's name will be of little importance. It's a tiny cafe in one corner of a far off area on the very edge of the Sector and so quiet it never sees combat. It's also in a retirement area for war veteran Elites, which may explain that as well.

    Either way, the ideal location for a talk, which Psyber has requested. The half-angel is sitting at a small table in the cafe, drinking a cup of coffee with a newspaper in his hands. Next to him is a briefcase, which probably means he came here from some sort of other business.

Samar (494) has posed:
    This is intended to be a peaceful, neutral meeting, and while Samar may be a figure of war and strife, she at least still knows how to present herself for something like this. To that end, her lumbering symbiote is nowhere to be seen: the Princess walks down the sidewalk on her own two feet, raised heels clacking against the pavement with each steady, confident stride she takes.

    Once she steps into the cafe, she pauses at the door to take a look around. As willing as she may be to concede a peaceful encounter, trust is another issue altogether; her scarlet-eyed glare isn't searching for Psyber, but checking for any obvious or not-so-obvious threats around the cafe. Only when she feels decently confident in her safety and that of her accompanying sister vessel does Samar stride over to Psyber's table, pull out a chair, and straighten out her dress before taking her seat.

    One leg crosses over the other, and her arms fold over her chest. She only looks at the half-angel for a moment out of the corner of her eye before turning her gaze to her far more interesting fingernails. "Afternoon," she greets him flatly. "So, what exactly did you want to hear today?"

Wo has posed:
    It had been a while since this meeting had been scheduled, which had enabled the Wo-class carrier - at least, the one with which Psyber was most familiar, to finish fully recovering from that last battle. In this case, that mostly mean she has reconstructed her hat, which is easily the first thing visible about her as she trots steadily toward the agreed-upon location. No sea skating or hovering above the waves available, here, replaced by the sound of her boot heels and the periodic drip of sea water still making its way out of her cape, as well as off of that hat. She follows along slightly behind Samar, as she is the presumed 'flagship' of this sortie, the piece of steel fashioned into her staff held level in both of her hands as she walks, and her eyes glow from within the shadow cast over her face - a pale blue green, for the time being. Seems she's relaxed today, such as it is, though it would be hard to read from the even expression on what can be seen of her pale visage.

    When she finishes her approach, a brief moment after Samar, she remains standing a few meters away, regarding Psyber silently for a moment, before observing some kind of barely remembered protocol for this sort of thing. That is, she bows her head forward, lifting her hands up to the edges of that black, squid-shaped monstrosity that lives on her head with relative ease given the appearance of her frame, and lifts it off before resting it against her side. This leaves her, perhaps, a little more approachable. "..I'm here," she states simply, and obviously. For the time being, though, it's clear that she's intent to let this be their leader's show, unless Psyber has any questions for her specifically, taking a patient but observant stand directly behind her, to one side.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "I won't mince words. Despite my reacquiring of the Ko-Class vessel, your subordinate made statements that are correct. I have no functional understanding of the goals, wants, desires or motivations of the Abyssal Fleet. This means that I will be vastly underinformed in this currently forming rivalry which seems to be growing between our two sides," Psyber notes this in a calm down as they both join him in his seat. He takes a deep breath and then adds, "Please, may I get you some coffee or a pastry or something?"

    Refusal or acceptance, Psyber continues on, "My primary goal here is to open communication lines between both factions and attempt to understand the opposing viewpoint. I have all the information on the Fleet Daughters I need for now. I would like more on the Abyssal Fleet."

Samar (494) has posed:
    "I'm not in the mood for human food," Samar replies frankly to that offer. As calm as Psyber remains, it seems she's not really in the mood to be cordial; not nearly to the point of antagonizing and berating him, at least not /yet/, but she doesn't want to seem too comfortable with this situation. He is, after all, the one who reverted Ko-Class. Twice.

    Samar does glance back to Wo, gesturing to another seat nearby. Wo, at least, gets a slightly gentler tone. "Go ahead and have a seat, Wo. You don't need to spend all this time standing there."

    Finally, she turns in her seat to directly face Psyber, interlacing her fingers as a perch for her chin and resting her elbows on the table's surface. Water starts to gently pool around them; seems she hasn't completely dried off, either. Her eyes remain slightly narrowed, but at least she's looking at Psyber now, as she starts to speak.

    "Open communication lines for yourself, if you want, but don't expect me to speak to those traitors as if /negotiation/ will solve anything." That draws out a hot huff of breath from her nostrils, her expression growing slightly more irritated at the thought. It only lasts a moment, though, and her tone, while slightly chilled, maintains a matter-of-fact tone as she continues.

    "...as for us. It's quite simple, really. Do you know what it's like to be used, Psyber? Do you know what war is like? Real war, I mean, not these...Elites in one-on-one conflicts. War where you're sent into a conflict whose cause you may not know, directed by people you barely recognize, until your corpse slips under the surface in a twisted, ruined wreck of whatever shred of glory you had a moment before and lies abandoned and uncounted for an eternity to follow?" Her head tilts slightly to one side; she's silent, then, waiting for an actual response.

Wo has posed:
    She would have been content to remain standing there, as the two presumed dignitaries have their words. That's before Samar invites her to take a seat, as well, prompting the briefest, subtle look of bewilderment, before she accepts the offer. It seems that even with having unlocked her own flagship potential, she's still somewhat unused to having a seat at the table, figuratively and literally. Slipping into her seat, her own water pooling - thankfully for the poor staff that has to come and clean this after this meeting - has stemmed somewhat from even a few moments earlier. Mutedly eyes wonder around the cafe, when she feels she's not being directly addressed, examining the strange yet somehow familiar trappings of the surface dwellers. This is where they 'supply,' isn't it? But it doesn't look like a very efficient place to it.

    "I'll..pass. Thanks.." Her own refusal is a bit less harsh than Samar's, though she also has less to be bitter about, on the surface. Or perhaps it's simply a measure of caution in an unfamiliar arena. Other than that, she sits relatively quietly, aside from a soft, heaving..breathing that can be heard from the hat, which she allows to settle against her chair, as it also seems to somehow be regarding Psyber, albeit sideways, through its empty, metallic irised sockets. Despite her passive nature, since Samar speaks for all of their feelings, she feels she must address at least one matter. "..Ko-class.. No..'Kon-gou.' Is she - well?" It can be hard to forget comraderie, even in light of the betrayal. Once Samar's words fully sink in, though, that concerned look fades slightly, and the trace of a scowl plays across Wo's subdued features. Samar has managed to sink her anchors in deep with most of the abyssals, with those kinds of loaded mental images, giving voice to decades spent in the dark, alone, abandoned.

    It's easy for them to buy, and despite those hairline fractures appearing, it remains hard to ignore. Wo's eyes lower, as she stares holes down in the table. Did her eyes just flash golden amber for a moment? "..loneliness.. But..then, found sisters. Like, Ko-class."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    So much to respond to and so much to say. Psyber nods his head to Samar when she turns down the food. He gives her an appraising look with his red eyes, same to Wo-Class. But he doesn't say much of any thing related to the frankness. He's beginning to understand that's just how Samar is.

    So when she levels her eyes on him, he stares directly back at her, "I understand and accept your lack of desire to communicate with the Fleet Daughters," He says in a detached tone. Best not to press comfort zones on initial diplomatic contacts, "My goal is only to open lines of communication for myself at this point. Tensions can be high post-sortie and upon initial contact with new forces, so I wished to establish lines to foster future negotiations between us."

    But then Samar asks him something very serious, and Psyber takes a deep breath, "Of the many people who reside within either faction, you will find few who know more about the horrors of war than myself. Not identical to the war you described, but similar enough," He notes in that same distant and detached tone, "To be sent to do a job no one else can accomplish, and to be expected to succeed at all costs. To be forced to do things that no one will ever understand, and then to wonder if they secretly see you as a monster for it. Yes, I understand this feeling quite well."

    His head slowly turns to the Wo-Class so he can answer her, "Kongou is well. I would have brought you some curry from her, but I did not have time." He pauses, looking to the Wo-Class, "She is, of the Fleet Daughters, the only one aware I plan to communicate with the Abyssal Fleet. And she encouraged me to reach an understanding of you." His reply is, if a bit formal because this is a first meeting, genuine in tone.

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar just gives a low note of acceptance when Psyber responds to her question. Inwardly, she doubts he'll /really/ understand their situation, but at least it will make it easier to just talk about it. Her scowl does return, though, when Kongou's encouragement is mentioned. It's obvious Samar doesn't like the Fleet Daughter - though it's not as if she likes /any/ of them - but, for the moment, she keeps her opinions at bay. There's more explaining to be done.

    "Then if you understand that, maybe you'll understand our position," the Princess continues. "We were used for mankind's great war across the world, and when it was over, we were cast aside and forgotten. Many proud ships that were used, then abandoned when it suited them, only there to fulfill a brief purpose. And so...after it became unbearable, our wish for vengeance grew, until we ascended into what we are now. Princesses, Demons, loyal sisters who want victory and what is owed them; Abyssals, all of us, serving a common purpose to end our suffering. Maybe they see us as monsters for it, but I really couldn't care any less."

    She pauses for a moment, letting her arms fold over one another on the table's surface as she stares across at Psyber. "And then Nagato and Musashi turned on us, and they have steadily been making traitors out of my sisters ever since. I could tell you the histories of every ship you seem to have allied yourself with now, and everything they upheld in their time with me. They really don't belong where they are now."

Wo has posed:
    Not wanting to dwell too much on the topic of Kongou, for various concerns, the carrier only offers a soft sound of acceptance, to Psyber's report. Uncertain of what she would do with it, curry is nonetheless a faded memory that manages to remain lodged in many abyssals that once had crews. A slight furrowing of her eyebrow follows, as she accordingly finds herself..somehow regretting that she did not get to taste of the Burning Love curry. There was also something more important than food there, though, and that draws the confused expression even closer to the surface, as she stares outright at Psyber - perhaps somewhere between unbelieving and boggling, "..she did?" While it's certainly true that Kongou has been the one with the experience of a child playfully flipping a light switch, as of late, the notion of a Fleet Daughter seeing them as anything more than monsters is.. Strange? Unsettling? She isn't certain how to feel about that.

    Sinking into the depths of that thought is perhaps why she spends the next several moments in silence, resting what to untrained eyes seems little more than that hunk of oxidized metal across her lap. While she might not pursue the agenda as strongly as Samar, it nonetheless remains close to her own feelings, as she understands them. No interjections are made as the Abyssal fleet's presently unchallenge boss makes their case, or at least, lays out what their overarching plans are. Something does cause her expression to sour again, though: Even if it were possible to achieve peace on the Fleet Daughter's terms, it's not like they would be easily forgiven. And her own heart remains heavy with something she still can't quite remember. Once Samar seems finished, she once again adds her own, less articulate experience - at least, what has clarity of it: "Existence.. ..to not be, forgotten. To end, sisters' suffering. The surface dwellers..so quickly forget. Still fighting.."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Now it is Psyber who rests his chin in his hands and looks to Samar, "I doubt you are very religious, but there is a verse I find particularly striking for this moment." He's actually not fully sure on that claim. Ships have always had some religious connotations and ties throughout the centuries, "You'll find I use them a lot. It's part of my nature. I apologize, it is at times the best means to convey my feelings."

    "Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes," Psyber says in a pretty even tone, sighing a bit as he thinks, "First John, Chapter Two, Verses Nine to Eleven."

    "I believe this applies to both sides in this conflict," Psyber notes, shutting his eyes for a moment and thinking, "Your pain is understandable. Your suffering is justified. And your anger is understood. But if you allow hatred to cloud your expression of those feelings, you merely will stumble through and find yourselves in battle after battle, with no one ever truly understanding you, because they feel that you are merely wrath incarnate, as opposed to individuals with feelings and desires."

    "JUST..." Psyber begins forcefully, "As the Fleet Daughters may yet stumble blindly through their belief that you must be sunk or brought to violence to mitigate your threat. They are blind, in their own ways, as well. For their works are carried out in their own belief, and they are naive in some ways. But I would disagree that every ship is wrong where they are now. I would challenge you to spend 20 minutes in a room with Kongou and not tell me she is where she wishes to be."

    Psyber opens his eyes again, looking to Samar in a serious way, "Our past is important. It informs our present, but it should never define it. By defining ourselves by our past, we limit our growth. Who you all were, where you came from, being remembered? These are important. The sacrifices you made should never be forgotten and each of you should be honored. But you do not honor your past by repeating it. You do not honor the ideals you once fought for through violence, I feel."

    Psyber takes a deep and slow breath, "One more verse for you."

    "You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is against you. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you." Psyber pauses for a long moment, "Matthew Five, Verses 38 to 42."

    "I would, if you can lay down your arms and uphold a place of neutrality as you have today, invite you to visit Boston some time. Come see my home, where people once viewed as monsters and horrors now live alongside humans peacefully. But this offer shall extend only if your more violent desires can be restrained." He notes seriously, opening his eyes and looking hard to Samar and Wo, "There will be elements in the Confederacy who would use this hospitality I have extended you to strike to my heart, so consider this a test of your ideals as well. You desire not to be used again, then do not. Let that be the reason you uphold my offer, if none other."

Samar (494) has posed:
    Samar, for now, is silent. Psyber's words draw a range of reactions from her: silent calm, a narrowed look of wariness, signs of her doubt and temper starting to lift to the surface again. Just as she seems about to open her mouth to say something, however, Psyber's forceful addition gives her pause, and grants him a few more moments of patient (if faintly glowering) audience.

    She doesn't like this. Not at all, if the way she stares at Psyber in silence after his offer is an indication of anything. Exactly /why/, however, isn't so obvious. Perhaps she's conflicted by the offer of something like that from someone who clearly isn't on her 'side.' Perhaps there's something else, simmering under the surface.

    She gives a sideward glance to Wo, her gaze nowhere near as piercing for the Abyssal's sake. That she cares for the other Abyssals is something that's difficult to question, perhaps even from an outside perspective. She leads them into battle, but when they're ready to give themselves entirely, she pulls them back. She really does want what's best for them, doesn't she? Though...is this what's best for them?

    Her red eyes shift back to Psyber, still smoldering with wary apprehension. Her fingernails drum along the table's surface, once, twice; a rhythm to break the silence before she finally feels comfortable enough to give her answer. "No."

    A pause; her frown turns to a lightly fanged grimace, as if she doesn't even want to say what she's about to, but she continues. "...nnh. For myself, at least. I have no interest whatsoever in visiting your city for any peaceful reasons. Least of all to visit you, or Kongou, or any of the other Fleet Daughters that have decided to stay there. But...if any of my subordinates wish, with the proper supervision, I will allow them to visit. Under peaceful conditions. Some may be more willing than others."

    Samar looks over to Wo again, curiously. She was always interested in being social, wasn't she? It makes the Princess worry, in no small amount. "...Wo, I think, would be the most cooperative escort, under your terms. And rest assured," she adds, looking over to Psyber again, "that they will be suitably punished by me if they choose to act with hostility during such a visit. I may not be accepting your offer personally, but I will at least uphold your terms." Her frown hardens a little further. "So long as you, in turn, don't misuse them."

Wo has posed:
    Religious? Perhaps not in the usual sense. It might be hard for a belief system devised by surface people, and for surface people, to find much application among sunken ship spirits. Yet, some themes are universal, aren't they? Even in this twisted up multiverse. The Wo-class carrier sits peacefully, her own expressions not quite matching the gamut that Samar's horned demeanor ably demonstrates throughout the discourse, though she at least manages to play the part of the captive audience. It is still hard to read, accordingly, just how much impact it's having on her, and how much is escaping her yet unfulfilled capacity. Rudeness is not one of her traits, regardless, so she waits until he seems to be finished with his sermons, before she even thinks of speaking a word.

    Not that she does, even then. Such heavy scripture is best answered by the one among the two that has the real authority for any meaningful change in disposition, within their fleet. Wo's eyes turn to Samar, much like a younger sibling gauging their elder's answer to a challenge, as she responds in refusal, and yet doesn't directly address Psyber's wider themes, at the same time. Perhaps in annoyance, or.. No, that's definitely it, nothing more. Despite Samar's razor sharp response, however, there is that tiniest sliver of an opening that remains. "..wo?" A sound escapes her before she can adequately form a response, since she honestly wasn't expecting even that level of concession, to one that houses their most preeminent enemy. Simultaneously, while she would not care to admit it, there is a softening of her expression, as some small corner of her mind is accepting, and perhaps even welcoming of the chance.

    Perhaps Samar's confidence will be overextended. Or she's smartly allowing the chain to given an inch, as opposed to losing it later. Whatever the reason for her allowance, and indirect offer to the Wo-class, she gives a nod of her head, and her expression grows mutedly more determined, as she obviously takes this seriously, "..I won't..allow Samar, to be embarassed. Your city, will be safe - with me. ..Psyber." If not for how serious these high-level discussions were, she might even look..the cute kind of determined. And hey, she remembered his name, after all! "Sister's voices..calmer, around me. Flagship."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "Despite your own lack of interest in my city, I thank you for upholding and enforcing neutrality," Psyber says with a carefully practiced calm tone, "And I promise I will see that no hostile actions are taken so long as your side upholds the agreement as well. I believe it will, if nothing else, further your goals of us understanding you." He smiles widely at this. And with a bit of sincerity despite her hostility.

    "And Wo, your determination is noted and appreciated as well," Psyber says, smiling at her in turn. Psyber is, for his own part, a pretty unique individual. His past and his various beliefs make him utterly confusing until you realize his core point: He wants to help people, however he can. Sometimes with a sword, sometimes with a hand.

    He looks towards Samar, "One last question before I go. What woke the Abyssals up? It is rare that spirits rise in such a way, so I have been curious. Was there a catalyst, or had enough time simply passed?"

Samar (494) has posed:
    Psyber gets another long, serious look for his gratitude. It's clear Samar still isn't comfortable with this whole thing, but she's trying. In her own way, at least; not enough to return the smile, but not so little as to snap or glower.

    That last question makes her hostility ebb away just a little, however, as she considers her answer. She sits back in her seat, arms folded over her chest, and offers a short sigh before she actually answers. "Time, and the growth of a deep-seated grudge. It became too great to be contained, and our will gave us shape. At least...that's all I know. I can't say whether or not something else might have caused it, if anything."

    Samar stares at him for a few more moments, then finally sighs before rising out of her seat. "Well, if that's all, then I think we'll be leaving now. Thank you for your time, I suppose, Psyber. I'll inform my subordinates of our arrangements, and maybe they'll choose to visit you and your city in time. The only promise I make is to your safety under those circumstances." Her eyes narrow; something bristles around her shoulders and slips into her voice. "...I'll hope I don't regret making this concession."

    A nod is given to Wo, then; a silent sign that their time here is done. With that, she turns to stride back out of the cafe and find their way back home again. She has quite a bit to think about now.

Wo has posed:
    Psyber's appreciation receives mainly a nod from the abyssal carrier. Smiling as he does remains difficult for Wo, though for different reasons than Samar's. Besides..there's a certain amount of decorum to be observed in what remains a primarily serious diplomatic engagement. "Of course.. Psyber," at least, comes her verbal response, while both her own eyes and her hat's regard him.

    Speaking of. With business here seemingly concluded to Samar's..well, satisfaction is probably not the word, but certainly concluded, her superior gives the signal for them to make their exit, prompting her to pick up her hat and return it to its proper place again. It's possibly better than allowing her to sit, stew and try to think on how exactly she came to have this form, and how she fought and scraped for every bit of sanity she possesses now. It wasn't an easy process. "Good-bye, for now," she states, hoping it isn't out of turn to extend the black gloved hand that isn't holding her staff, for whatever gesture of agreement Psyber's culture might prefer. Opportunity taken or not, she dutifully moves to walk out behind Samar, not giving a glance back. Back to the sea, their home.