Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City: Little Shintenchi

as written by Lobos

Twisted fabrics parted under simply too much stress, holes in reality parting. Yet chaos was buffered, for something else forced its way through the rents, spirals of power that churned from beyond. Great power, in the primal state of its existence a boiling energies that lashed throughout the chaos of the rift-torn city as invisible conduits of mutagenic power, deadly to some and merely...changing to others.

An event that could have been catastrophic or harmless, yet this assumed an aimless, rampant force that spread indiscriminate. But blood had been spilt, destruction wrought and pain fresh in the echoes of the city, and no more so that in the dense confines of Little Shintenchi. Pain called to pain, and this energy was born of incredible agony, the birth throes of existence. The slag of the lost, and so it was drawn like a loadstone, tendrils boiling together to coalesce, a chrysalis that blossomed like a wound hovering over the earth below.

Like droplets of shadow and blood, power became material in a sense, physical traits burgeoning from the conjoining, a form being assumed by an entity that was as alien to itself as to any other. Backdropped by a moon that seemed impossibly large, features began to take shape, a face, a body. A hand, that lifted to rest before the gaze of eyes that flowed crimson light, a posture in the midst of assembly that carried the wrenching weight of curiosity, a pose that spoke to the soul that this was not ascension, it was a birth.

A birth whom the final shaping was still yet to take form. The entity began to descend from the sky towards the ground below as the rents from which it had arrived began to dwindle, scarring into thin veils that stretched and seethed from the pressures placed upon them. A life from the endless eternities that existed concurrent with this world, a piecemeal figure of unknown potential and unformed thought.

Feet settled on the ground, and a wave of potent power spread like a blossom, its weight driving what fired had remained into death throughout the quarter, as a regard shifted from itself, to what lay around it.
 
as written by Calcos

Michael had been prowling the streets for some time, avoiding the calamity that engulfed the city, calling out for his little girl desperately and to no avail. His feet no longer wanted to move, and ever fiber of his being screamed for him to stop, begging him to rest. But he willed himself forward, ushering onward against all doubt and against the very pain that riddled his frame. But even as strong as he was, he couldn't outrun his own limits.

He hit his knees, eyes skyward, looking to the starless expanse above the columns of steel and glass that surrounded him, myriad pieces of rubble of all shapes and sizes decorating the streets about him. One last time he tried to call out for his daughter, but his voice was worn down, as if someone had run sandpaper down the length of his throat. Defeated, Michael resided to stay there until he could muster the will, and the energy, to move on.

Finally, after a brief respite, he staggered to his feet, sauntering forward mere steps, his eyes still cast on the cosmic ceiling above. It was then that he noticed a peculiar object darting through the atmosphere, on a collision course with...

Himself.

He wanted to run, but fear and exhaustion kept him rooted as the object came closer and closer. As it burned its way through the sky, Michael closed his eyes and waited for the end to embrace him, hoping his death to be swift as tears filled his eyes; thoughts of his wife and daughter flashing through his mind in his final moments.

The impact came sooner than expected, and he was grounded, on his back with the wind knocked from his lungs. He attempted several noiseless gasps for air, the ability to breathe coming back, slowly. He was alive, at least. Ahead of him, a few yards away, was a sizable crater in the concrete. He climbed to his feet, shambling forward as to get a better view. His instinct told him to flee, but his curiosity wanted to know just what the hell had happened.

The crater glowed with a sickly red hue, hot and angry. Michael couldn't describe what lay in the pit before him, but it terrified and awed him all at once. Peering over the edge of the crater, his eyes widened in shock as to what he saw: a formless congealment that appeared as a black sludge, radiating an overbearing energy that he couldn't begin to fathom. He wrote it off as some sort of debris, deciding to leave it where it lay and let whoever it was that dealt with these matters do their job.

That is, until the formless mass reached out to him, attaching itself to his chest with a vein-like tendril, spreading its form across his body like a swarm of scarabs. Michael began to panic, short shrieks of terror emanating from his mouth as his attempts to swat the mysterious substance away proved futile, as the sludge merely attached to his hands and continued to expand.

Soon, it enveloped his whole body, and the last, prolonged scream was cut short as the entity enclosed around his head, silencing his pleas for help.
 
as written by Lobos

Within the depths of Little Shintenchi, a newly born entity raised its head to the sky at the roar of air marking the ship's passage, instinct born of tatters of memories of the lost rising within its still forming consciousness, the pose it entered reminiscent of an arm raised to fend off a blow.
 
as written by Tiko

While much of Westeria City was rapidly being evacuated, few had so much as begun to pack within the small neighborhood of Little Shintenchi. A TNG officer and a small squad of soldiers was currently engaged in heated words with some of the 'elders'. These elders held no real political power within the city, but they maintained a heavy level of respect among the locals within Little Shintenchi.

The officer had been tasked with swaying the residents of Little Shintenchi into joining the evacuation efforts, but from the frustration upon his face, and the dramatic hand movements that were paired with his speech, it was clear he was making little progress on that front.

It was a rapidly growing popular opinion that the ills the Midlands now suffered was a product of human folly, and human action. That they were personally responsible for the ills they had brought upon themselves, and that those ills would only follow them to a new land. They put more stake in the spirits of their ancestors being able to protect them, than they did that the TNG could.
 
as written by Saarai

"How do I know of this is worth buying?" Tae asked of the elderly Asian man selling weapons near the burned out section of the neighborhood. It was a reminder to the people still in Little Shintenchi that they needed to protect themselves.

And with the military almost completely gone, who better to make sure people were protected than a sketchy guy on the street? He stood behind a table covered in various weapons, a surprisingly well-made sign posted to a wall.

Tae was an elderly man of Losenji descent, short in stature and well-dressed.

"Like, this sword," Tae said, grabbing a sword from the table, "How do I know it's the real deal?" He asked, "This sword is authentic, crafted with the finest of metals. I received it from an old friend of mine, a warrior from Losenji." The seller told Tae.

"Monsters were slain with this weapon. If this weapon had been here when the monster attacked this city, I assure you things would have gone differently." The merchant said, "You should make this purchase."

As he and Tae spoke, several men began approached. They were young men of Asian descent, all of them dressed in suits. "We gotta go." One of them said to the merchant, "Pack it up."

"Are they here?" He asked the man, "They are." The suited man answered, "Keep the sword, my friend." The Merchant said to Tae, "My gift to you."

Tae looked from the Merchant to the men and then back again, "Who are you?" He asked, "A relic of forgotten times." The Merchant answered, he and the men with him putting away his wares.

"Be careful with everything. Some of my things are worth more than my kids. Not really, but they are very costly."

Before they could finish packing up, a car sped towards them. It showed no signs of slowing, the driver was intending to create some road kill.

"Move!" Tae shouted, pushing the Merchant away as the car slammed into the weapons table and one of the suited men.

It skidded to a stop close by, several men in military styled olive fatigues climbing out. They were armed with handguns and immediately opened fire on the men they tried to run over before they could escape.

The suited men moved to take cover in one of the burned out buildings, Tae pulling the Merchant along to make an escape through it to somewhere safer.

"I was supposed to be getting milk. Now look." Tae complained, "Could be worse. The milk could have been spoiled." The Merchant joked despite the gunfire being traded back and forth on the street.
 
as written by Tiko

Despite the eerie emptiness that had swept through many neighborhoods within the city, Little Shintenchi remained peculiarly unchanged and lively, cheery even. Save for the row of burned buildings that cut through its center, life it would seem continued on. People got up and went to work, families sat down for meals together, and in general the locals seemed intent on weathering the storm through sheer patience.

For those living on the inside though, the most apparent change was the thick layer of unease and tension that hung over them all like a blanket. Uneasy looks were exchanged, and distant worry lingered behind forced smiles. Would the storm pass? And if it did, what would life become without the TNG? Would the TNG return?

These thoughts lingered upon the minds of the locals when tires screeched and gunfire errupted nearby. Few spared looks back and none seemed inclined to interfere as they scattered in either direction away from the scene at hand.

One decrepit old man stood his ground though as he waved a cane menacingly at the men across the street.

"May the ancestors curse you with a hundred years of syphilis!" he hollored.

The man was clearly appalled at the audacity of these men. Why in his day, people respected the Red Dragon Syndicate! Drive-by shootings in the heart of Red Dragon turf? He huffed in indignation. What was the world coming to?
 
as written by Lobos

Time had passed, the attention of the newly born entity wandering, it's intentions still murky, undeveloped. It had avoided those that milled in the torn streets, the shattered buildings, keeping to shadows and silence, observing naught but pain. The newness of the sound of gunfire had drawn its attention, however, and like a moth drawn to flame, it had come.

Curiosity overrode caution, the entity slipping free of shadows. It's shape was a crude rendering of human form, seething, a mass of inky black substance with lines of muted crimson flowing like veins. Unearthly red lights danced where the eyes should have been, leaving ghostly trails as it shifted roughly with each uneven step. The brilliant flashes of the muzzles intrigued it, the sharp reports confused it. From the alley into the street, it staggered with the grace of a toddler's first steps towards the gun battle, an abomination unaware of it's own disturbing countenance, still unknowing of this world in which it found itself.
 
as written by Script

About a minute earlier.

"Uh, Talys..." Rune stared down at the bottle he was holding with disbelief. "Am I reading this right? Are they selling eel soda?"

Talys looked over at him, raising an eyebrow as he plucked a can from the shelf and placed it in his basket. "They are indeed. I didn't know you could read Losenyu, though? When did you learn?"

"Oh... uh, I can read everything. Mostly. Long story. But seriously. Eels?" The pale fetchling eyed the bottle suspiciously. Caedmon scurried down his arm from his shoulder to sniff at the bottle experimentally.

"Everything..? Nevermind, I'll ask later. As for the soda, I've never tried it," Talys confessed with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders. "You should give it a go. Caedmon seems to like it."

"Caedmon also likes raw mouse. I don't think he's the best authority on culinary matters." Rune pointed out flatly. Caedmon squeaked indignantly in response. "What? We have different tastes. Mine are refined."

"It's delicious," the shopkeeper interjected, grinning from behind the register nearby. A petite Losenyu woman of middle age, she leaned forwards onto the counter and pointed at the bottle. "Tell you what, if you're trying it for the first time, I'll give you fifty percent off. And if the weasel touches it, you buy it."

"I dunno..." Rune frowned. He wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't a practical joke. Sure, people ate eels. But soda? Wouldn't that be like a ... cod soda? Or any other sort of meat-based drink? The idea was pretty repulsive.

"It's not gonna kill you, Rune." Talys rolled his eyes, and Rune shot him a glare.

"But do you know that?" He demanded.

"Hey, I don't sell pois-" The shopkeeper's indignant retort was cut off as a loud crash sounded outside, followed by an eruption of gunfire.

Rune swore, thrusting the bottle back into its fridge. The shopkeeper began to curse loudly in Losenyu and moved towards the door, probably to lock it, and Talys...

...of course, Talys was already running outside.

"Dammit." Rune groaned. Of course they were going to stick their noses into things. That was what they did, apparently. "Wait for me, you damned firefly."

"You two go out there, I'm not letting you back in!" The shopkeeper yelled as he ran after Talys. She was already lowering the shutters. Rune ignored her, and burst out onto the street.

Spotting Talys crouching behind a nearby car, he hurried over to join him. Caedmon had burrowed into Rune's coat and out of sight. "Figured out what's going on?" he asked.

"Looks gang related," Talys replied. "But it's not the Red Dragon, as far as I can tell. Or either of their smaller rivals."

"You can recognise organised crime factions on sight? I'm not sure if that's cool or terrifying."

"Welcome to Little Shintenchi." Talys grimaced, before something caught his attention and his eyes widened. "What is Huan doing?"

Rune followed Talys' gaze, and spotted an old man on the far side of the street, waving a stick angrily at the combatants. "By the looks of it, committing suicide by gangster," he remarked dryly. "You know some interesting people, Tal."

"I've got to try and get him away from them. Cover me?" Before Rune could so much as reply, Talys had broken from their cover and was running towards the old man.

"With what?" Rune yelled after him. The dancer didn't stop. Swearing under his breath, Rune shuffled closer to the edge of the car to get a clear line of sight on the firefight. If any of them turned their attention on Talys, he'd be ready to react.
 
as written by Saarai

"Get him out of here!" One of the paramilitary gunmen ordered, one of his people breaking off from the group to approach the old man. "Go home. Now." He commanded, his strange accent very thick in his words.

The others continued to advance on their targets, prompting them to start fleeing through the fire damaged buildings as well. "These guys don't know subtly." One of the fleeing men said, "Maybe we should have reached out to Ha'la'tha to do this. We knew we were being watched." Another said as they caught up to Tae and the Merchant.

"Go home. You'll die if you stick around." The Merchant told Tae, "Make sure that blade does what it was meant to do. Make sure evil fears it once again."

"I'm too old to use it myself." Tae said, "You'll figure it out." The Merchant said, nodding to his protectors that he was ready to move.
 
as written by Lobos

Still weaving like a drunk, its head facing the group ahead, the entity stumbled, nearly falling, the sudden interposition of the two between itself and the object of it's curiosity scattering its mostly instinctual thoughts momentarily. A malformed hand slapped against a ruined car heavily, the still tenuous grasp of the essence of what it even was loose enough that an uncontrolled burst of its power was channeled into the wreck, twisting it malignly with the screech of metal flexing like a thing alive, a persisting effect that continued its warping work even after the wretched creature had regained its balance, unevenly marching forward like a corpse walking anew.

A low, unintelligible moan slipped free of it's ragged mouth, a hand outstretched to the figures before it, its own inability to comprehend the unfathomable energies that flowed within itself like blood, robed it like flesh making it unaware of the eldritch potency in a gesture that could be interpreted either as harmless or as threatening. To new to this life, this form, this world, it lacked knowledge, and more, the ability to understand that knowledge.

An infantile creature, but an infant with power. A dangerous thing loose in the streets, but it sought answer to its questions, and in truth, the answer lay within the life it staggered towards...
 
as written by Tiko

"Home?!" the old man exclaimed. "I am home you nicompoop!"

He brandished his cane menacingly as if he just might take a swing at the armed man's head if he got within range of the decrepit old man's reach.
 
as written by Script

"Huan! Huan, sir!" Talys called out as he neared, dashing in to step between the gunman and the elderly resident. "You're going to get yourself killed. Please, you need to come with me."

He kept a wary eye on the armed men as he tried to take Huan's arm and lead him away, ready should they grow impatient.

In the meantime, out of the corner of Rune's eye, he had spotted the ominous-looking eldritch entity staggering towards the gunmen and Talys both - past his hiding spot. He stared at it, wide-eyed, for a long moment before reacting with a yell.

"Talys! We have more problems!"

The pale youth stepped out of his now useless hiding spot, murmuring an incantation for a moment before a brief shimmering glow washed over his form, only to fade as his spell took effect. At his feet, his shadow began to shift and grow in anticipation of combat.
 
as written by Saarai

"Find the target!" A gunman barked to his people, turning to rest his eyes on the... thing approaching. He raised his weapon at it, but it was clear he wasn't sure if he needed to open fire or not. He didn't know what, or who, he would be shooting.

"Screw it." He said, lowering his weapon. Killing the Merchant was the top priority, the rest of the non-human filth in Westeria City could wait.

He looked back towards the loud-mouthed old man as he began to jog off to find his people, "Home, I don't want to see you again." The gunman shouted.

Gunfire erupted as the Merchant's protectors began to run with, a few running with Tae to get him to safety. They were bringing him straight towards Talys. A local was safer than just leaving Tae in the wrong place at the wrong time.
 
as written by Lobos

There were ways to pass unnoticed, if one knew them. Paths that could be taken to pass uncountable miles without trace, though some of these went untraveled to all but a few. One such as these took the final few paces along these deep paths, ascending the dust laden stairs of a forgotten cellar, one scarred, wretched hand pressed against the wall for support. A limping gate, some injury or infirmity held veiled under thick, rotted robes. On a weathered face, a twisted nose sniffed the air, scenting the heavy lingering scents of smoke. The robes rippled in the darkness, and the stench of cold ash wafted in the turgid air from this traveler as it ascended the depths. The shaft of light from beneath the door ahead cast a narrow beam against the countenance of this thing, the face of an elderly man, wizened in years and marred by scars, the skin darkening under the absence of observation, taking on the appearance of one badly burned. The guise deepened, the breaths that had come smoothly became those of one haggard, a victim of smoke inhalation, the rattling wheeze of labored lungs. As its hand slid around the handle of the door, stained gauze wound its forearms.

Silvertongue opened the door, staggering into the streets of Little Shintenchi, moaning an incoherent cry. Stumbling, then losing his footing, coming hard to a knee, slapping heavily against the unforgiving pavement with a brutal crack. Eyes followed to the noise, a young boy even going to far as to approach, inquiring to his health.

"You okay, mister?"

No doubt it was the face that turned to face his, bloodshot eyes sunk into the disfigured, burned flesh and bones of an ancient, unremarkable face that caused the sudden backing of those onlookers, yet the Servant could not display his contempt for their disgust, their superstitions. Not when it was those very ideals he was tasked to twist in hand, to turn their outrage and mistrust into a tool in the hands of he who held his own leash.

"It should not be the health of those already walking the final road that should be important, child-" Pausing to draw a wheezing breath, his dry, cracked voice cut clearly in the air. "But for your intentions, I thank you. I bless you. In the fires that tortured us, I have found revelation. In my injury, I have found strength. This weakness is but passing, but I would not refuse a hand to rise with."

Almost fearfully, the boy reached forward with a trembling hand, almost crying out as Silvertongue's own snaked out to seize it with surprising power. Ruined though his façade was, the eyes that met his were not merely piercing, they burned with a fervor, they blazed with conviction. The wretch rose, before his voice raised to carry.

"I come to share the truths I learned with the pain of fire. There is pain, in such gifts, yes. But equally powerful are the rewards such truth brings. I will walk these streets and tell my tale, and those who follow are welcome to hear it." In his rasping speech, there was sorcery, a subtle imbuing of power, persuasion, a siren's temptation. A sense that his words rang with truth, or at least credence that came from beyond what mortal flesh could hold. Such was Silvertongue's gift, the mouth-piece of a far greater power in the world.

"What's your name, mister?" He turned, to see the boy who's hand he still held, looking at him no longer in fear, but in wonder.

"Burned in the crucible of my home, now ash. I am naught but the voice of our spirits now, the mouth from which our hearts must speak. Name me what you will, for I cannot name that truth as anything else but truth."

He began to walk, easing his grip, only to find the boy's tightened against his fingers. Inwardly, the Servant but smiled.
 
as written by Tiko

Sun enjoyed the luxury of a tiny little cottage home that was squished between rows of residential apartments and shops that lined the street in either direction. The small home belonged to her father, and despite its quaint nature it enjoyed a mediocre ammount of privacy in that it was its own contained building.

A pair of small peach trees had been planted on either side of the stone steps leading up to the front door, and the building itself was well kept. The Losenyu architecture was well apparent from the graceful slant of the roof, the vibrant blue, red, green, and gold color scheme, and the artful Losenyu engravings along the upper wall. A row of four pillars held the overhanging roof up to provide a small porch where a few more potted plants were set out. Several red ornamental paper lanterns also hung from the overhanging roof.

____

With most everyone congregating at the ration stations while they were still open, the street outside of Sun's home was sparsely populated as she led the Aschen medic up the steps, helping her wordlessly.

Once inside, she helped guide the Aschen women into the kitchen where she eased her down into a chair. Like its exterior, the interior of the small cottage had a very authentic Losenyu feel to it.

Once the woman was seated, Sun made quick of removing the chain from her neck, which crumpled to the floor with a loud clang. The sight of the raw and bloodied skin brought a sigh to Sun's lips.

She paused to retrieve a plate of leftover dumplings from the fridge which she set on the table. They were cold, but Sun imagined the woman would just as soon rather eat now than wait for her to fix something.

"Do you speak Losenyu? Volarian? Taiyou?" Sun inquired.

She only knew a few words and phrases of Terran, and not one bit of the Aschen languages.
 
as written by barney_fife and Tiko

Once at the cottage, as Sun tried to help the weak woman up the stairs, the process could be described as slow, and arduous as she struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

But with Sun's help she moved slowly and steadily, the chains rattling with her movements.

Sitting down in the chair, she heaved a sigh of relief but still had a visibly confused look on her face, wordlessly she allowed Sun to remove her restraints. The wounds around her neck were raw and the skin red, from weeks of wear the lacerations under her collar had become infected, no doubt a very strange sight for an aschen.

Her hands moved to rub her neck, and she winced in pain as she held out her hand, the discharge from her wounds cased the confused look to intensify.

The sight of the dumplings and Sun speaking to her brought confusion to her face but she replied as best she could.

"Ego non dicere lingua." She said quietly. "Qui te asordo?" She inquired.

____

Sun shook her head. "I don't understand," she answered regretfully.

Unfortunately her language didn't even share the same latin base as the Aschen language, so there wasn't even a shared foundation between the two.

She slid the plate closer to the medic.

"Eat," she said as she offered a weak smile.

She didn't rightly know what she was going to do with the woman. Her only thought at the time was to spare her the fate she would have faced in the hands of one of the syndicate thugs.

The creak of the floorboards drew her gaze to the entryway where an elderly torajin stood with a cane to keep himself on his feet. He had a thick mane of hair that had silvered with age, and the fur upon his face had grown grizzled and silver-tipped as well.

"Father," Sun said as she moved to his side.

He groaned a bit as she helped him to his chair in the other room and the Aschen woman could hear them talking out there in their foreign language.

____

The woman made a face, there might have been a language barrier, but the Aschen were not a stupid people. She looked to the dumplings and carefully placed on in her mouth, chewing thoughfully, she was weak, but was slowly getting her wits about her, slowly feeling comfortable after being taken out of the ration section; and away from Jyunichi.

The family appeared to be a fairly simple Losenji family. The woman had read brief missives about the Losenji people, most of it propaganda from the Imperial Government.

The two languages had no shared base, nothing to go off of, nothing to even begin to communicate. But once more the Medic wasn't completely ignorant, she noted the asian features of the house, and the Losenji people. She croaked out a phrase that she hoped they understood.

"Doh-moh Arrieagahto." She said, butchering the statement with a thick Aschen accent.

She didn't bother to get up though as the Losenji woman walked out, she made a face at the elderly man, and then she glanced at the dirty patch on her shoulder.

Did this strange woman buy her from Jyunichi to provide some kind of medical care? The woman knew nothing about geriatrics, and was only a level three trauma medic. She could treat most injuries, and a few diseases, but she had no tools.

The dumpling was finished by now, even though it was cold, it was still food, and with it she could feel her strength returning.

____

The phrase was not one known within the Losenyu tongue, but it was within the Taiyou language. Unfortunately the two languages had long since diverged to the point of no longer being mutually recognizable. Sun did speak fluent Taiyou, but it was her third language, and the Aschen accent butchered the phrase enough that the exact words didn't quite register. The woman's tone of gratitude did though.

A few minutes later Sun reappeared holding some clean towels and spare clothes in her arms. The clothes were of Losenyu make, but only slightly oversized and cleaner than the uniform she currently wore.

She placed them on the table next to the Aschen woman before moving to a nearby cupboard where she pulled a small first-aid kit out. That too joined the towels and clothes upon the table as Sun opened it. She pulled some ointment out, showing it to the Aschen woman before gesturing to her own neck and laying it atop the clothes.

With that seen to, she pointed towards the ajar bathroom door before moving to retrieve the chain from the floor so she could drop it into the trash. Just touching the thing had her skin crawling and she moved to the sink to wash her hands after it was disposed of, waiting to see what the Aschen woman did next.

____

The Aschen woman silently watched as Sun moved about, producing a fresh set of clothes and a first aid kit. The Aschen woman at first looked at the first aid kit, and the ointment with what at first appeared to be a look of confusion. It wasn't confusion however, simply looking at medical tools that were foreign to her.

She knew a quick beta-cantin injection along with a fresh dose of nanites would tend to her wounds with Aschen medicine, but she did not have access to Aschen medicine.

She looked to Sun and then to the new clothes, her gaze following the gesture to the bathroom. She smiled once she realized what the other woman was offering.

"Gratius, ego indeo un lavatio." She replied, even though the words she spoke wouldn't register.

She made her own gesture, the gesture like grasping a cup and putting it to her mouth. "Aqua." She said. "Aqua cum glacius, comdo." She croaked out, making the gesture once more.

If sun obliged, she would take the glass of water, slowly drinking it down and sighing with relief. If not, she would look at the Losenyu woman with confusion, and opt to drink from the shower faucet.

Moving to the bathroom, she let her fatigue shirt fall from her shoulders, exposing fraile arms, and a barcode tattooed to her right back shoulder blade. This barcode was the only tattoo on the exposed skin. The rest of her torso was covered by the standard issue undershirt, a dark tank top worn over a grey sleeveless t-shirt. The standard issue double-undershirt of the Imperial navy, remaining unchanged since the confederation days.

With the BDU Overshirt off, she draped it on the sink, before returning to get the towels, and the new clothes.

The next thirty or so minutes were spent in the shower, and she seemed to emerge from the bathroom a completely different person. It was quite amazing how a simple shower could humanize you, the oversized losenji clothes were a strange but not unwelcome sight, the dark hair and eyes along with the soft features could even make her a passable Losenyu had her eyes had more of a narrow appearance.

She also had her old clothes draped over her arm, holding them up she spoke.

"Estna aliqua lavem haec?" She asked.

____

Sun was putting a teapot on to boil when the aschen woman reappeared, and the sight of the now clean woman brought a half smile to Sun. Unfortunately she knew that they internal scars the woman likely bore would not wash away as quickly as the grime had.

As the aschen woman held up her old clothes, Sun picked up the gist of her inquiry and she gestured to an empty chair sitting just inside the kitchen doorway.

"There is fine," she said.

Though the woman couldn't understand her words, the gentle tone could be imparted.

Once the aschen woman had placed the clothes down, Sun turned to another matter. She didn't even know this woman's name.

She held up the almost empty glass of water from earlier, repeating the word she had heard.

"Aqua," she said before pointing to herself. "Sun," she iterated before pointing to the woman questioningly.

She hoped the intention made it across.

____

The woman simply made a face as Sun gestured for the clothes to be placed on a chair. The aschen clothes were dirty, smelly and dingy, and the young Aschen medic simply shook her head and held up the clothes.

"Non, ego indeo lavem." She repeated, before she made a gesture like washing on a washboard, moving her hands up and down.

She then moved towards the chair, laying the uniform clothes on the chair.

She followed the glass though, as sun raised it and spoke the word "Agua" The woman nodded and slowly replied. "Etium, Agua." She replied, then she watched Sun, pointing to her and speaking.

"Soon." She spoke aloud, and then gestured to herself. "Ayla." She said slowly. She then made a large circle gesture with her arms. "Ayla ex Paradeen."

____

"Ayla," Sun repeated. "Ayla.."

She smiled again and waved for Ayla to follow her as she led the Aschen woman through the small cottage to one of the bedrooms near the front. The east facing windows within it would once have offered access to the mid morning sunlight, but today it - like the rest of the city - was offered only ominous shadow from the portal that loomed overhead in the sky blotting out the sun.

The room itself was exquisitely decorated with hand carved furniture, red upholstery, and a fresh vase of flowers. Despite the meticulous care that seemed to have gone into its upkeep though, no one appeared to be using the room at the moment. Everything was neatly in its place, clothes folded and tucked away in drawers, and the bed neat and orderly without sign of wrinkle or rumple atop it.

Sitting on top of a dresser was a photograph of an elderly Torajin woman, a smile upon her face even in her twilight years.

Sun moved to the nearby dresser and picked up an ivory hair comb piece that she showed to Ayla. If allowed, she would move to tuck Ayla's hair back behind her ear on one side to attach the hair comb piece before turning Ayla to let her get a look at herself in the mirror atop the dresser.

The whole ordeal was likely somewhat surreal and bizarre for the Aschen woman as Sun's behavior was far more reminiscent of Losenyu cultural expectations between a host and their guest rather than any semblance of ownership or possession, and the offered gift was in itself a traditional hand of friendship.

____

Ayla made a long face at the room she was being provided. She was confused as to why this lone stranger would go through so much trouble to help her. She silently wished to articulate her answer as to why this stranger was helping her.

Was it for some kind of gain? What did this strange woman stand to gain from helping her?

She silently stepped into the room, a hint of trepidation could be picked up in her body language as she moved into the room.

When Sun moved to pull her hair back behind her ear, another tattoo could be made out, this one previously obscured by her hair when she went to change. Close observation of the tattoo would reveal it was a set of numbers, specifically it was her service number, in the event her identification was lost, the military could identify her by the bar-code on her back, or the service number on the back of her neck.

The young woman that stood before Sun was just a cog in the Aschen war machine.

And she was still absolutely confused as to why she was being helped.

"Quare me asordo." She said aloud, the words were faint though, and still indecipherable to the Losenyu woman.

Everything was strange, even as she looked at herself in the mirror, a contrast from the previous times she had seen herself, buttoned up in uniform. The clothes she wore were alien to her.

She looked to Sun intently, formulating words she could make into gestures, she held her spread palm out, and placed it on her chest. "Ego sum Aschen." She said aloud, affirming the gesture with her hand. "Aschen, Imperii de Aschen." She said, affirming the point, before she made a shrugging gesture, both hands out. "Quare." She said, gesturing in a shrugging motion, hands out to her side. "Aschen, necare." She said, making a gesture like holding a rifle, shaking it like it was being fired. "Incursus." She said, emphasizing the word. "Aschen Incursus Terran." She said making the rifle gesture. "Ego sum Aschen." She said gesturing to herself.

"Quare." She said, making the shrug gesture. "Quare tu." She said, pointing at Sun. "Quare tu amacus mei?" She said, making the shrug gesture after pointing at Sun. "Aschen imacus Terran; Aschen incursus Terran." She said, embracing Sun. "Amacus." She said, embracing her tighter with the word, before pulling away. "Imacus!" She said, gesturing angrily, and making the rifle motion.

A few moments she sighed, figuring what she was trying to say was being lost in translation, turning to face the mirror she spoke quietly.

"Gratius."

____

Sun's expression shifted from confused, to surprised, and finally to understanding. She smiled softly as Ayla turned away to face the mirror.

Standing at her back, the pairs reflections couldn't have been more different. Where Ayla was human, with smooth skin, hair, eyebrows, round eyes and pupils, and rounded ears, Sun was torajin. She shared similar characteristics to the Mira people that the Aschen had previously had altercation with. Her skin was furred, her eyes slanted with slit pupils, and her triangular ears were as mobile and expressive as that of a cat's.

Sun turned Ayla around and took one of her hands before raising it up and pressing the palm of her own hand against it. Their fingers splayed together almost identical in length and Sun's palms were smooth like Ayla's. She gripped her and Ayla's hands together to try and emphasize the gesture before moving away to a nearby stand and opening a drawer. She retrieved a pad of stationary paper from it and and ink pen before rejoining Ayla at the dresser and setting the paper down where she could see it.

With the ink pen Sun drew a smooth etching of a gun upon the paper, which she promptly crossed out. Next she drew a pair of shackles bound together by a row of rings, which she also crossed out. Lastly she drew the Imperial Aschen's fleet insignia and that of the TNG upon the paper and crossed them both out. She set the pen down on the paper and shook her head before taking Ayla's hand again and pressing it to her own. She then pointed to Ayla's heart, then her own, then Ayla's nose, then her own.

"Same," she said in Losenyu with each gesture. "Same."

____


Slightly confused, Ayla got the fair gist of what the Torajin was trying to say. But her brows couldnt help but furrow. She was in contact with an unclassified alien species, a Terran native. No doubt she could be deemed irreversibly contaminated by the association with the alien, her mind irreversibly contaminated with crimethink and ungood bellyfeels. She was visibly confused as the entire facade expertly crafted by Aschen propaganda seemed to be shattered.

"Amacus." Ayla said, as her hand was splayed out against Sun's. "Amacus." She said, asserting the word. She looked to the ground, though appearing dejected before she took the pencil and the paper.

"Ex Ego, tu disce." She said, before writing a single Anquietas character on the piece of paper. "Ah." She said aloud, pointing to the character, and then gesturing for Sun to write the corresponding character in her language. Ayla then wrote a second Anquietas character. "Bey." She said, moving on to the next. "Keh." She said, gesturing to the third character. "Dee." She said to the fourth, handing the pen back to Sun after each letter, until both alphabets had been transcribed on the piece of paper.

Once finished, Ayla pointed to the Aschen characters. "Anquietas." She said aloud, furrowing her brow to figure out how to speak it in a way Sun understood. "Lingua Anquietas."

Depending on the Losenji alphabet, if there was one and the language was not ideographic, translation could go fairly smoothly, of course, ideographs would utterly confuse and baffle the young Aschen, causing her brows to furrow in frustration, but she let out a sigh anyway.

"Tam pro me fecisti." She said aloud. "Quid ego reddam vobis?" She asked, before she drew a picture of a square Aschen cubit coin on the paper, gesturing in a giving motion. "retributio." She said, reaching into her new clothes and pulling out a small leather wallet, pulling out a cubit banknote she handed it to Sun, hoping she would recognize the concept of money and what Ayla was trying to communicate. "Retributio." She said again, handing the cubit note over.

____

Sun furrowed her brow as she studied the paper that Ayla was writing upon. No comprehension dawned upon her face though as she shook her head, trying to get across her lack of understanding. There was no traditional alphabet in the Losenyu tongue, and she wasn't sure what it was that Ayla wanted her to write in response to the first alien letter upon the paper.

The cubit proved more recognizable though and Sun picked up quickly as she set the note down next to the paper so she could write the Losenyu character for money before laying a ration card next to the cubit. With the place in the state it was in, it was the only form of currency that still meant much of anything to most people in Little Shintenchi. Though some still harbored their money away in the event that it might hold value again once the city was tamed and order restored.

The small etching on the paper confirmed Ayla's earlier frustration and Sun's lack of understanding. Losenyu was an ideographic language.

In the other room a loud knocking came from the front door and Sun's ears perked up. Confusion and concern filled her eyes and she picked up the paper and pen and handed them to Ayla before pointing at the woman's chest. She then raised a finger to her lips, trying to inform the woman to remain quiet as Sun slipped from the room, pausing to close the door to a crack so Ayla could see out but visibility into the room would be limited. Should Ayla try to follow follow, Sun would shake her head and urge her to remain in the room while she went to see who was at the front door.

She moved one of the curtains a few inches to get a look outside, but upon seeing Rune, Talys, and Adriaan she relaxed and opened the door.

"Come in, come in," Sun invited as the tea pot in the kitchen started emitting a shrill whistle.

She waved to Ayla as well to come on out.

"Rune, Talys, -"

She started to introduce the new arrivals as she pointed to each of them in turn for Ayla.

"Ah..." Sun hesitated as she got to Adriaan.

"Adriaan," the winged avorian male said with a wink.

"Ah yes, Adriaan. My apologies," Sun replied with a smile before giving them Ayla's name in turn. "Ayla."

The Aschen woman looked nothing like what Rune and Talys had seen earlier. She was clean, and her Aschen uniform had been replaced by Losenyu clothes. The woman looked gaunt and tired, but she could almost have passed as one of them now.

"She does not speak Losenyu," Sun explained. "Or any of the other Shintenchi tongues that I can discern."

"Well we certainly do seem to have a colorful lineup of visitors today," Sun's father, Renshu, said from his chair. "You had better get a second pot on to boil, Sun."

The elder torajin stood up with a grunt as Sun moved off to see to the tea while Renshu waved the new arrivals to go ahead and seat themselves. He squinted at Talys in particular though.

"Talys, is it?" Renshu inquired. "Sun tells me that you're something of a young prodigy in the art of yudari. Maybe you can indulge an old man with a demonstration later. For now though, what brings you all here today?"
 
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as written by Script

Both Talys and Rune offered Ayla smiles as they were introduced. Rune was relieved to see that Talys had been right about Sun - not that he'd exactly doubted it, but knowing for certain that she'd no intent to keep Ayla as a servant of any sort was a weight off of the back of his mind.

"What about Terran?" Rune asked, before turning to address Ayla directly in Terran. "Do you speak Terran at all? Uhh... Queran? Unlikely. No, I got nothin'." He grinned sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders and glancing back at the others. "I can read Aschen, if it helps. But ... can't write it. It's complicated, so just take my word for it."

The fetchling was likely an unnerving sight for Ayla, but after finding herself in the care of a torajin, his unnaturally white skin and piercing eyes were hardly the most inhuman thing she'd had to come to terms with.

Talys bowed his head respectfully to Renshu when the elder torajin addressed him. "I don't know that I'd call myself a prodigy, sir. But I learned from the best, and you're welcome to a demonstration any time. We came by to check in on Sun and Ayla - we saw her collect her at the ration stations earlier, and wanted to know if there was any help we could provide."
 
as written by barney_fife

Ayla looked to the Losenji character for money, the cubit, and the ration card, she nodded slightly before she spoke. "Numus." She said, speaking the Anquietas word for 'Money'

Her concentration was broken by the sound of a loud knocking, and her sudden jumping at being startled, and as the strange woman moved to get up, Ayla followed, but stopped at the door, She peered out slightly though, through the cracked door.

She moved slightly as she tried to get a better look, it seemed more strangers were being allowed into the house.

She remained quiet though, not wanting to alert possible slavers that she was in the house, or someone with a vendetta against her people.

When Sun waved, Ayla slowly emerged, the losenji clothes hanging loosely from her gaunt form as she stood front and center for everyone to see.

Her eyes went to Adriaan, and then Talys and Rune, staring at the different words in confusion. "Ego loquar Anquietas." She said, her voice somewhat hoarse. "Quod enim operor non intellego non asordo mihi me imacum tuum." She said quickly, a visible look of confusion on her face.

She surveyed Rune closely, but the Terran words he spoke were just as alien as the Losenji words Sun spoke, but Ayla tried to communicate still.

"Ego." She said pointing to herself. "Ego Ayla, ex Paradeen." She said slowly.
 
Sun perked her ears at Talys' inquiry into assistance and she waved his attention over to Ayla. All around her neck where the collar had chafed against her skin were open sores, something that shouldn't be possible for an Aschen soldier who were known to swiftly recover from minor injuries and infections in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

"I gave her some ointment, but I don't know how to treat Aschen wounds," Sun explained as she indicated the sores. "I overheard earlier that you were going out on a run again? If you could acquire an Anquietas to Terran dictionary, I might be able to at least roughly communicate with her. I imagine libraries and bookstores weren't high on peoples looting priorities. It shouldn't be difficult to find one."
 
Ayla stood quietly and listened to everything that was going on around her; but she was suddenly overcome with a wave of heat, the sores around her neck stung, but the ointment had soothed them.

Out of nowhere the color visibly drained from her now drenched face.

"Te sentire calidum." She whimpered and then she collapsed, her skin hot with fever, heart racing.
 
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