Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Fortunae Major: TranquilTea

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Krysis

When it came to quiet, restful spots, few places could compete with the tea shop. Usually.

It also happened to be near enough to the downtown area to be easily accessible, and one of the few businesses that hadn't gotten slightly smashed in the fighting. Which meant that they would be doing brisk business.

People involved in the clean-up operations dropping in for a bite of lunch after putting out the fires nearer to the Presidente's mansion. Families stopping by to try to hear news of missing loved ones. Walking wounded were taking a break from the slow trek to the nearest clinic where they would have to wait to be treated anyway. Willing hands would help out at the tea shop, and supplies mysteriously kept showing up in the back.

The sisters from the historic church that had been directly across from el Presidente's mansion had shown up in force. Like a flock of black-robed sparrows, chirping away and doing what they could. They had set up a rest area in the park nearby with chairs borrowed from businesses that were closed for the day and started ministering to the population. They had been forced out of their home by a stray shell from the tank, and yet the sisters were cheerful. When asked, it was a miracle that none of them had been hurt and now St. Kitts' St. Kitts Church was going to be even more historically relevant.

Ángel Zamorano guided the stuffy, but probably still drunk, Albert Siemens in the direction of the tea house first, "See if you can get us a table, Al. There is something I want to do first."

Since he didn't expect for the foreign male to join in a religious observation, there was no point in Al waiting around outside. The old farmer wouldn't take long with kneeling before the eldest nun and asking for a blessing from the venerable mother superior, who was nearing a hundred years old, seated in a wheelchair and mostly blind. Her words were slurred and run together, but her gnarled hands were steady as she made the appropriate signs for the kneeling male.

What he really wanted was the casualty list that one of the more tech savvy nuns was putting together on a laptop. Someone had found her a printer and some paper in one of the wrecked offices down the street, and she was making copies for anyone that wanted them. A couple hundred names in black and white were the spoils of that small sidetrack, to be pored over in the midst of the organized bustle in the tea house when the dour farmer rejoined Albert and his sheaf of papers from Soledad Arce.
 
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as written by Ottoman

Albert made his way up to the cozy tea-shop's door, taking a few moments to steel himself before he dared to make his way inside. He was still fairly inebriated from the bar earlier, and while perhaps not slovenly drunk Albert wasn't entirely keen on being thrown out of anywhere. The pleasant atmosphere, the relaxed setting, did well for the man's nerves when he finally did slip inside, having been more shaken than he would've liked to admit by whatever it was that had happened back at the bar - seemingly random foreigners starting fights, stunning women handing you legal papers in the street - his shoulders slipping as the Austran finally relaxed, looking a hint less threatening, even if he did stand a good head taller than almost everyone else here.

He wasn't entirely sure how an establishment like this worked - whether you stood and made your order somewhere or if there were menus, brought to you or left at the table for you to find - so for now Siemens did his best to not stumble over himself as he made his way to a booth seat, slipping into one with a comfortable sigh that melted into a sort of groan. This beat barstools by a mile, the imperial's back finally glad to have something with some support in it. Only after lingering there for a moment, his head leaned back, did he finally stir to find some semblance of a menu - regardless of whether he could read it or not.

He didn't have anything in the way of money, but perhaps he could barter for something or another.
 
as written by Script

Thankfully for Albert, the menu wasn't difficult to find. Each table had one of the small, laminate booklets bound in green, filled with lists of varying teas, coffees and other beverages, along with slightly shorter lists of food that ranged from local favourites to specials with exotic, foreign names.

It wasn't long after his entry that one of the staff made their way over. The server was a fair-featured boy, his full brown hair falling past his ears and to the nape of his neck. He wore the forest green apron of TranquiliTea's uniform over a striped white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Pausing on the verge of launching into a standard greeting, the teen raised an eyebrow at Albert's evident unsteadiness. "Ah... good afternoon, sir. Are you alright?"
 
as written by Ottoman

Siemens had been far more intrigued by the pictures of the dishes and beverages than by their descriptions, always falling short on a word or two and letting what might have been an otherwise tantalizing summary fall flat on Albert's ears. A steadying finger was tracing out his thoughts and his ponderings on the menu itself, both helping keep his place and mark things that he would likely order - at least until Elian spoke, startling Al slightly, who turned to greet the new voice. "Good afternoon." He managed, taking time not to potentially slur his words, though he was rarely aware of how many times his word-choice fell embarrassingly short.

"Just..." Albert sighed, glad that he was steadied inside of a booth. "Just a bit much to drink, I think. H-... how are you?" It was the polite thing to do, wasn't it, ask someone how they were feeling after they'd asked you? It wasn't like he'd given a proper answer, a proper reason for why he was drunk, but if there was one thing he'd noticed about these humans on Valore, it was that they liked to keep things far more brief than he was used to.
 
as written by Script

"Ah," Elian smiled knowingly. "Celebrating? I'm jealous. I have to wait until I get off. But I'm doing great, thanks. Would you like to order, or are you waiting for someone? I can fetch you a jug of water in the meantime, if you'd like to wait."

The young people of Fortunae would seize any excuse for a party, and as far as excuses went, this was a good one. The lack of police would mean that house parties and beach parties were unlikely to be broken up early. It was setting up to be a wild night.
 
as written by Ottoman, Krysis, and Script

Siemens smiled at that, nodding. "I am waiting on a friend, and that water would be most welcome, if you'd be so kind." His eyes returned to the menu for a few moments before he looked back up to the young man, his lips pursed in thought for just a second before he spoke, his conscience getting the better of him. "It's... probably none of my business but be careful, this evening. I'm pretty sure someone was shot where I just came from." Hence why he was here and not there.

____

At about that time, Ángel walked in. He took off his hat for the tea shop as he had not for the bar, though he had removed the scruffy thing for the Mother Superior's blessing too. It gave him a moment to let his eyes adjust as he squinted around to locate his friend. Even with Zamorano's advanced years, he still had a full head of hair, though it was creased from the pressure of his hat, shot through with gray, and retreating from his brow ever so slightly. Probably none to clean either, since he hadn't had a shower since the the previous morning.

Though the farmer was an unusual sight in the shop, he gave Elian a pleasant nod as he approached, and a slightly warm smile for Albert.

"Good afternoon? Has my friend already ordered?" He asked, as soon as he was in the comfortable range for not having to raise his voice.

____

"Oh, really?" Elian frowned worriedly. "Is there still fighting going on or something?"

Habitually, he banished the frown as Albert approached, offering him a friendly smile of greeting. "Good morning, sir. No, I was just going to fetch some water. If you'd like some time to decide what you'd like to order."

____

Albert returned the smile alongside a nod, looking back to the young waiter at the note of fighting. "Not officially, I think. Just... high tensions." He couldn't think of a better term for people picking fights so readily - not that he figured either of those in the fight back at the bar had involved themselves in the revolution, they didn't seem the type. One was trouble, local trouble, and probably had a dozen others ready to get stuck into a fight for her, and the other was a foreigner.

Upon reflection, he realized that he too was a foreigner and had quite heavily participated in the revolution. This occupied his mind for a few moments longer until Zamorano moved to sit with him, drawing his attention away from that brief, silly conundrum. "It, uh... occured to me, Ángel, as I looked over the menu..." Al didn't quite know how best to put it, so he didn't try to sugar-coat his thought. "I'm broke." Not broke, necessarily - he never had money here to begin with - but he was destitute none the less, and had no form of local currency.

____

Zamorano gave a bitter smile and shrugged at Elian after sitting down at the other side of the table. "Of course there is still fighting. All the cops are busy or dead, so everyone with a grudge is taking advantage of the chaos."

He blinked at Albert being without funds, wondering what sort of foreigner made it to Fortunae without the means to leave again. It took a long moment of staring before Ángel coughed and muttered something about being willing to cover the cost of a cup of coffee.

____

"I suppose so," Elian frowned. He hadn't considered the more disreputable elements of the island's population might still be taking advantage of the power vacuum. In reflection, it was obvious - that was just human nature, wasn't it?

"Well, in any case. I'll get you that water," he nodded his head and stepped away to retrieve the beverage.

____

"I appreciate it, Zamorano, but I meant more like..." Albert shrugged as he whispered, trying to think of the best way to put it - something that didn't make him sound like what he was. "... employment. I need a job." Surely there was something on the island he could do, though in all fairness he would likely have to wait until the social upheaval and political discord died down before he could manage to snag anything worth keeping.

____

Ángel gave a bitter smile, which suited his long, hard features perfectly as he tapped the sheets of the casualty report he had laid on the table. "Amigo, if we look here, we'll find out who will need aid in the upcoming days. The heroes of the final charge should be worth something too, eh? Or you could always join the military. That's what men here do, when they can't find other work."

Of course he had no idea that comment would sound backwards to Albert. To Zamorano, that was normal. Why take a job where you could be shot at, when there was safer work? Sure the pay was better, to be a soldier, but the men (and the few female soldiers) that had been killed wouldn't get a chance to enjoy their savings.

"We'll have to ask that kid if we can borrow a pencil or something, so we can mark off people that had jobs that you are not interested in. Off hand, I would guess you do not want to be a farmer, but I want to mark them too." the native scratched his head thoughtfully as he scanned down the list.
 
as written by Runic Blade

Javier caught the whiff of sweet pastries baking at TranquiliTea as he walked by. He paused outside, near the door, peering inside. He saw that it was a classy establishment. Glancing down at his dirty boots and mud-stained overalls, he chuckled, shook his head, and continued to walk on by. There was no way they'd let a dirty miner like him in a place like that.

He didn't make it more than a few more steps until he realized that he needed to take a rest. The treacherous journey down from his gold mine in the mountains had taken a lot out of him. He paused for a moment, catching his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Grit and grime came off with his sweat. Casually, he mopped off the damp hand on his pant leg.

From what he'd seen so far, most of the shops and restaurants in town were closed. And Javier could hardly stomach any more of the dry food and rations he'd been living on up at the mine site. He glanced over his shoulder at the tea house again and saw a waiter bringing someone a glass of water. His dry tongue rasped in his mouth expectantly. The worst they can do is throw me out of they don't like the looks of me, he thought.

Javier turned around and clomped into the tea shop entrance. His heavy work boots left a trail of mud behind him. Glancing left and right, he saw a couple customers and a vacant booth near the corner. After making his way towards it, he shrugged off his olive green military-style backpack onto one of the benches. It fell with a thud. Javier collapsed on the other bench, grabbed a linen napkin, and blew his nose loudly. He picked up the green menu booklet and thumbed through it, keeping a careful eye on the prices for something he could afford.

When the waiter approached, he didn't give the man a chance to say anything. He just started his order: “I'll take two apple turnovers and a large glass of water... No, make that a pitcher of water, with lots of ice,” he said. “I'm thirsty as hell from work. And warm up a cup of coffee as well, black, to go.”

“What a day!” he exclaimed. “I sure could use some help up there in the mountains. Mining is a rough business.”

Javier stopped, suddenly aware that he might have revealed too much. If anyone know that he'd struck gold in the island's mountains, they might spread the word. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.
 
as written by Script, Ottoman, Krysis, and Runic Blade

The waiter serving Javier maintained a smile through the man's boisterous approach to ordering his food and drink, noting down the order and slipping away to retrieve it.

In the meantime, Elian returned to Angel and Albert's table with their own pitcher of water and a pair of glasses. "Here's your water, sirs," he said, smiling as he set it down. "Have you decided if there's anything else I can get you, or help you with?"

He cast a glance in Javier's direction at the rather loud proclamation regarding mining, but had little interest in the prospect himself.

____

"The military would probably be the best choice." Siemens mused to himself, not quite sure if he could manage anything else half so well. There were times, back home, when he'd thought of going into something else, but if one wanted a family the best way to make that happen was martial service, at least back in the Supremacy. "I... wouldn't know the first thing about farming, Ángel, but I figure you're right." It was better to double check to see if there was more opportunity elsewhere, though...

With the military practically devastated from this little revolution, there was nothing but opportunity there.

"Ah," Albert managed, pondering the thought for a moment, looking to the menu before Javier's words reached his ears. Why, an apple turnover did sound rather pleasant right now. Why not two? "... two turnovers, please. Apple. Say, do you have a pencil we could use?"

____

"Really, Al? I mean, military service is usually the refuge of those that can't do anything more useful than walk and carry a gun. Well, if that is what you want, I will not stop you." Ángel scratched his head and shrugged. "True, now is the time to become an officer. They get to wear the fancier uniforms and the funny hats, and rarely get shot at."

Zamorano barely glanced up when Javier came in. After all, the tea shop had to be busy, and with people dirty and tired from the battle the night before, and the clearing of rubble that was still going on. At least most of them had the courtesy to wipe their feet before they came in. Of course Ángel knew the Montaño family, at least by reputation, but he kept his opinions to himself for the moment.

"Coffee, for me, Elian. Was there anyone you wanted to check the list for? I have one of the most recent versions here." the farmer asked, giving the waiter a mildly concerned look.

____

After the waiter took Javier's order, he sat quietly, resting, while awaiting his drinks and food. The calm environment of the cafe was a welcome change from the revolution's chaos outside. Leaning back in the seat, Javier rested his weary back and neck. Having spent the prior day digging the entrance to the mine had taken a lot of strength out of him.

He overheard one of the other customers make the exact same order as him. It attracted his attention. Javier continued to listen to the conversation between the two men at the other table. One of the men he recognized as a local farmer, Ángel, but the other one was definitely a foreigner. Perhaps the foreigner had been involved in the military uprising.

When the waiter returned, the ice clinked when he sat the pitcher of water on Javier's table. Condensation dripped down the sides of the chilled pitcher. Javier gulped down the first glass of the water and poured another glass for himself. He packed the coffee away in his rucksack—that was for later—he'd need to caffeine to give him a boost while climbing back up the mountain trail to his mine.

Picking up his glass of water and the plate with the apple turnovers, he walked to table with the two men.

“Hello, amigos,” he said, interrupting their dialog. “I couldn't help but notice your fine choice of food.”

Javier lifted his own plate in the air and smirked to the foreigner. He grabbed a chair from the nearest table and dragged it across the floor to sit at the end of the booth with the two men. He saw a paper on the table with a list of words on it, but he wasn't able to get a good look at it without drawing too much attention to his curiosity.

“I hope you two don't mind if I join you. I heard some mention of work? Well, the military is a fine profession in my opinion. It teaches you bravery and orderliness. Those are important traits in my profession as well—mining.”

“If only more people knew about the wealth they could obtain in the mineral industries, I am certain that there would be less fighting and more digging! Ah, but it is not so. I struggle to find employees to help in my mine, despite the fortunes that lay within a few shovel's reach.”

“However, we can be thankful of the military's fine work recently. Anything to get rid of that corrupt president!” Javier shook his head in disgust. “Arce was a true embarrassment to this island.”

Realizing that he might have intruded in the men's conversation too much, Javier stopped talking and pierced a chunk of his apple turnover with his fork, lifting it to his mouth.

____

"Of course," Elian reached into his pocket and pulled out a spare pencil, proffering it to the two men before using his own to note down their order. When Zamorano spoke up regarding the list, the teenager's smile faltered.

"Ah... do you mind? There is someone."

While the miner came over and spoke, Elian took the offered list in hand, doing his best to reform his smile.

"Tal doesn't normally wake up till afternoon anyway," he noted with a small laugh, shaking his head. "The lazy ass that he is. So it's not unusual that he hasn't answered any texts this morning, but I... you know, when something like this happens, it's hard to stop yourself jumping to conclusions."

Whilst it wasn't exactly common knowledge that Elian and another of the island's youth - Natalio Valderas - were any more than close friends, there were plenty of rumours to that effect. Such was inevitable given Elian's relative femininity (though that was as often attributed to his mainlander heritage than anything else).

Trying to get in touch with Mrs. Valderas would have been a brick wall - she loathed the rumours that their affiliation had spawned, and as a result loathed Elian - and so he remained in the dark as to Tal's whereabouts. He'd promised not to get involved in the fighting, but... Tal was impulsive to a fault, at times.

He was probably fine though. Just sleeping in, like normal.

V... V...

Elian's finger trailed down the list, then drew to a halt as he reached the section he was looking for and started to scan through the names.

His breath caught.

Valderas, Cecilio.

Tal's father. An idiot, through and through. Violent, alcoholic, and the biggest shit-stirrer Elian knew.

Valderas, Natalio.

He dropped the list just as Javier was finishing speaking. "Oh gods. Oh no. No, no. He promised. He promised."

Elian's voice wavered as tears began to roll down his face, and without even realising it, he'd sunk down to the floor, his legs all-but giving out. "This can't be real. It has to be wrong. He promised me."

____

Albert listened politely to Javier, sobered up enough to regain a good degree of his Austran bearing, nodding when it was appropriate and simply looking to the man when it was not. He knew well enough, especially in underdeveloped regions of the galaxy, that mining didn't exactly hold the same unsavory connotations as it did in his homeland, but but he couldn't help the bias that his upbringing had given him - indeed, in many ways Siemens was the opposite of Zamorano in regards to the professional world. The military was typically, nearly always, one of the highest callings one could follow in the Supremacy, unlike here.

Perhaps he should change that.

"I fear I don't know the first thing about mining and prospecting, sir, but if there's some way to get in contact with you-" Albert searched for the term these people used, what was it - telephone? "I'd like to keep in touch, just in case." His mind was already dead-set on the military as it was something he already had something of a resume for, but Siemens wasn't one to burn bridges unnecessarily. Of course, Elian's reaction to what he read took the topic of conversation away from work and into an entirely different direction, Albert taken by surprise for a moment before he thought to react.

The Austran almost hadn't noticed that the waiter had said anything as he was replying to Javier, but few could ignore the young man nearly collapsing before them, and so with a muted sigh the officer moved to stand from where he sat, slipping out of the booth and moving to the local's side. With a firm, but not harsh, hand Albert helped Elian up, and moved the boy around to the booth where Siemens had sat just a moment or two ago. "Take a seat," He quietly offered, not quite sure how to deal with this but figuring that it would be better than the young man sitting in the floor.

Siemens cast a glance to Zamorano, a look that this confused foreigner was rarely seen with in this tropical paradise, born long ago in the distant, frigid peaks of old Austra, the look that had haunted Scatter and its progeny for centuries. An expression born of determination and empathy - for if there was one thing, one feeling, his people knew, it was loss.

Albert knew exactly where he needed to be on this island.

____

It was hard not to sneer at the Montaño boy. Javier might be a man by other standards, but Ángel Zamorano had watched him grow up. Zamorano would always see him as that snotty kid that hung around the woman that mended clothes for a pittance. Considering the bitter nature of the older farmer, and the harsh view he took of other people in general, this wasn't particularly surprising.

Thankfully, Elian's grief saved Montaño from the scathing remarks that Ángel would have been sure to make. The farmer awkwardly slid his napkin towards the waiter, muttering something like, "Maybe it is a mistake. The nuns might know when you lie, but they don't know when you die."

Inside he winced, knowing that sounded crueler than he intended, but really, Zamorano didn't know how to deal with such outbursts of emotion and preferred to ignore them as much as possible. So outside, his expression didn't change beyond a slight, panicked, widening of his eyes. "Wash your face and then you can go ask around and be sure."
 
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