Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Wismar

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman

Kesselring Cabaret,
Wismar, Entertainment District,
October 2nd, D -18

It was raining.

Of course when Stahl said it was raining, a more apt adjective would be that it was pouring, but he always had a way of understating things. The Landwächt walked along the sidewalks of one of the many levels of the entertainment district, the collar of his overcoat popped up and hooked together that it might shield him somewhat from the biting autumn wind that carried the rain, as the latter largely fell on the level above him. Still, men and women about him carried their umbrellas, no doubt not yet done with their plans for the day, and occasionally the Belkan had to scoot or duck out of the way of a foreigners shorter piece.

With a roll of his eyes and a rather sour look beneath the visor of his peaked cap, Nimitz recalled that such was really the only drawback to this posting - dealing with the foreigners. Alke and he had both managed a rather easy posting here to the frontier, finding little trouble getting the positions they both desired right out of NCO school: he with his position in infantry, and her as a flight-crew chief mechanic. It delighted his twin sister, and if she was happy, well, he didn't really mind putting up with Coalition traders, among more unsavory types. Perhaps a greater boon than simply being satisfied with their positions was the fact that there was practically no noble community here in the frontier, at least no where near as large of one in the Inner and Outer Empire, and both he and Alke could save a small fortune by not participating in the season.

Not that Stahl figured she wanted to, she was already married to her planes.

But, saving that small fortune did come with its own costs, and they were ones that Stahl did his best to keep as quiet as possible. There was no need for Alke to know what he did with his share of the money, so long as they kept up their home and he provided what was needed. The rest was his to spend, he reminded himself, as he hung his head slightly while he slipped through the cabaret's doors, pink neon bathing his black-clad form in unnatural light. Immediately his ears and his form itself was assaulted with the beat of the club's music, feeling it as much as he was hearing it, the shifting patterns in light doing their best to draw his eyes to the stage where the dancers already performed. The baron wasn't concerned with them however, male or female, as he slid and shoved his way through the crowds towards the back. A thick arm soon firmly laid itself across his chest, and the young nobleman looked to the bouncer with a slightly irritated glare.

It took the guard a few moments to realize just who it was he barred from entry to the rear rooms, eyes widening as he took in Stahl's face in conjunction with his uniform. "... forgive me, baron. I-... I didn't recognize you, what with the collar up." Nimitz' eyes narrowed for a moment before they softened, Stahl realizing, despite his rashness, that it was an honest mistake and one that he was just as likely to make, were he in the other's position. Faces were something that Stahl had no trouble remembering, but names to put with them... not so much. With a gentle shake of his head the baron dismissed the matter, a gloved hand coming up to gently pat the man on the shoulder once. Without a second thought Stahl slipped into his martial role.

"Only one man is perfect. Just don't let it happen again." He hadn't paid twelve-thousand marks to be kept from her, he reminded himself. If it happened again, Stahl knew he'd have to have a word with management. But, that was not something set in stone, and he instead did his best to pursue more positive thoughts as he slipped into the back halls of the place, the obnoxiously loud music giving way to a muffled thumping as he did his best to distance himself from the club's public floor. Without bothering to look to make sure he had the right one Stahl slipped into room 17, having made sure to request the same room for every visit as well. If anything, he was a creature of predictable habit.

With the door closed behind him, and some degree of silence attained, the baron sighed heavily, content to relax now. Gloved fingers easily unhooked the collar of his coat, deft with a year's worth of practice, and soon enough he had the heavy-woolen garment on a coat-rack, his peaked cap sitting atop of it. He was early, as he always made sure to be, but even then he checked over his shoulder before he took a small shaving mirror from his tunic's pocket, checking over his hair and his decorations - how few he had - to make sure that it was all in order and looked well. The man felt, on some levels, like he had to impress.

Pleased, or as close to pleased as he might come, he folded the mirror that it clicked back into its storage position and slipped it back into its home in his pocket, moving to take his seat in the room, glancing to the bottle of liquor and the glasses that rested on the small end-table beside him. Kesselring certainly pulled out all the stops, didn't he? With a light shake of his head Stahl elected to refrain from such for now, not wanting to appear a drunk to lovely Rose.

 

[Tiko]

as written by DemiKara and Ottoman

Nixie had been preparing herself for the Baron for thirty minutes no, hair styled up, in an easy to undo hairstyle, so she could take it down if he seemed more in the mood for loose hair, makeup just so, making her seem even more beautiful, carefully applied. She had even managed to get into one of her more modest dresses to perform in, after ensuring that she was properly wearing the garter and stockings she knew thrilled the Baron more. Dressed in the black outfit, she checked herself in the mirror, as one of the girls did the same for her own outfit.

“Another date with the Baron, Nixie? If you do not watch out, he may purchase your work contract from the house, and then you’ll only dance for him.” The other girl said, looking rather amused. The knowledge that one of the dancers had a frequent requester had spread.

“Shush Gerti. I doubt that’d ever happen. I’m a passing fancy to him.” She hoped. She couldn’t put her dreams on hold because of a noble.

“A passing fancy who bought you out for the night again?” Gerti teased, and Nixie looked to her co-worker with a wan, nervous smile. The other had no clue of the depth of the situation.

“Not quite. I’m to dance only for him for…two or three months. He’s been here two nights already.” It was a little unnerving. Gerti’s eyes widened, and the dancer nodded in acknowledgement. It was not normal. At most, girls tended to have their servaces, companionship purchased for a week. That he had done so for so long, well. She was essentially at his beck and call, even if he chose to take her elsewhere. So long as he followed the letter of her contract that, Nixie could handle this.

“Nix! Your gentleman is here. Room 17.” Nixie nodded and walked in heels too high for comfort out of the private dressing area for the girls, and along the hall, stopping in front of the door, and knocking, giving him a moment before she opened the door and slipped inside. In that moment, she became Rose, a dancer for the club.

“Baron Nimitz! Welcome back.” She glanced to the coat to note it was wet. “I hope your day was pleasant.” She said, moved to his side. He hadn’t touch the alcohol that Kesselring had set out. “Can I pour you a drink?” She was here for more than dancing, she reminded herself. The Baron had purchased her out for companionship as well.

Not that she would every lay with him. Nixie was supposed to be strictly a dancer, and her contract stipulated that she did not perform bedroom services. The Baron was aware of this, and the lack of bed in the room made it all the clearer, in case he ever forgot. It was why the situation was so unusual. Dancers did not usually get bought out, ever. The bedroom girls might, but dancers shouldn’t. That she had been still spooked her, a little.

____

Her knock told the man to sit up in his seat, the Unterscharführer straightening himself before she entered, smiling to the door as Rose entered. He had no clue what her real name was, being as he wasn't enough of a fool to think that these women would perform under their actual names, but Rose was enough of a name that he didn't feel guilty at all calling her that. "Lady Rose." He offered, doing his best to be polite, not wanting to seem too forward. "So far it's been well, I... well." Much better since he laid eyes on her, admiring her dress, though he didn't mean to gawk.

"... I fear I'm not very thirsty. Though you're welcome to it, if you like." He wasn't much of a drinker, unless he was with friends or family, and did his best to never wind up inebriated. If she moved to, then he certainly would, the Baron unable to help himself but to go along with the woman. She was so very beautiful, to him, and not simply in her form - but her movement, her voice, the way she chose her words, it was all so very delightful. "How has your day been?" Stahl thought it only proper to return the question, after all he took as much pleasure in hearing her speak as he did seeing her dance.

Part of him felt guilty for buying into the system that treated her like cattle, though he tried to convince himself it was much more like an art gallery, and she was one of the finest pieces within. Perhaps, given time, she wouldn't mind that he took such a fancy to her, and he might prove more than some simple patron, come to lust and drool over her.

"You look lovely today."

____

She smiled, and poured them both a half full glass of the liquor. It would help them both relax. “My day has been fine. A tad boring, I confess, but I hadn’t expected to be anyone’s exclusive dancer, and so haven’t adjusted my schedule for it, just yet.” That she was his still astounded her. The dancer took her seat next to him.

“Your coat was damp. Is it raining outside?” She had spent much of her usual shift helping out behind the scenes at the club, dithering here and there as she saw to preparing for his arrival. She accepted the compliment he gave her graciously enough, she supposed. It was best not to comment on such things.

For now, a little bit of small talk would sooth both their nerves, and get the Baron in the right state of mind for her performance. The poor man seemed just as nervous as she was, and she couldn’t have that at all. Her customer, no, her patron, needed to be at least comfortable for her dances to truly be delighted in. The woman smiled to him, and took her drink in hand, sipping at it, hoping to encourage him.

“I can have a heater brought in, if rain has chilled you.” It was a simple thing, and the heater appeared to be an old-fashioned fireplace. Still, it could explain his nerves, a little. Tomorrow, Nixie reminded herself, she could come in later, perhaps send out feelers at the local dance hall, for when her current commitment was finished. Of course, if she was truly as lucky as girls like Gerti assumed, then he might take her on as her patron in truth, and see to getting her a spot at a dance hall. It would be up to her to become more than a chorus girl, if that happened, but it was a distinct possibility.

If the others were right, and he was more interested in her than she suspected.

____

He gently took the tumbler between his thumb and index finger, sipping at it gingerly. The liquor warmed him somewhat, though he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or her sitting beside him that caused his face to burn. Stahl had no doubt that he looked the fool more often than not, a Baron blushing because of a dancing-girl! No doubt father was amused, watching him flounder about with Rose so. "I hope my patronage hasn't rocked the boat." Stahl simply found he grew jealous, somewhat, seeing her on the stage in public, where everyone else might look upon her.

It was something he'd often reflected on, in his quiet moments at home or in the field. It certainly wasn't that he always got what he wanted, that was possibly the farthest thing from the truth. Stahl and his sister were only second-generation nobility, their parents having earned their titles in battle, and having lost their lives not even a decade later. More often than not Stahl worked for what he wanted, and thanks to Alke's keen aptitude with the Syndicate's markets and their own brokering of land and estates, they'd managed to gain a nice foothold in the noble realm. But, what constituted a comfortable foothold for Stahl and Alke was a drop in the bucket for the great houses.

"It is raining. Rather bitter too, I hope you have a raincoat for when you go home." Perhaps Rose was lucky enough to catch a tram or a taxi home, or had her own vehicle. But he shook his head at the note of a chill, "... I weathered it well enough, I don't think we need a heater, unless you'd rather." He'd leave such a decision entirely up to her. She was the one who was hardly dressed, after all, even if she wore something modest as far as the cabaret was concerned. The Baron dared a glance to her rather exaggerated heels before moving to meet her gaze once more.

The man wondered, innocently, how she would look in a proper dress. "... my patronage doesn't upset you, does it?" He asked, after a moment or two of silence.

____

She offered him a smile, finding it rather nice that his face burned with her attention. If nothing else, having and keeping his attentions would certainly boost her self-confidence. He was rather innocent, for a man, at least. The woman couldn’t help but be pleased that he found her beautiful, and that was the simple truth. “It has a little, but it’s nothing I can’t weather, and it doesn’t trouble me. Don’t fret over it, Baron Nimitz.” She assured him.

At times she wondered if he actually cared for her more than just a dancing girl. Or she had found herself thinking thus lately. He had watched her public performances often, a face in the crowd if a familiar one, before he bought her out. Nobles on Kosterbrau interacted more with commoners, she knew, but it was odd to be in a nobleman’s sights, none-the-less. No doubt had they been on Tannhauser, where all the great houses had homes, then she wouldn’t have even merited a glance.

“I am afraid I forgot my raincoat however. I’ll have to catch the tram.” That would be a time and a half. It was a block and a half to the nearest tram stop. She’d have to run for it, given the time of night when she got off. “And I’m fine. I was just worried for you.” She was only hardly dressed while on duty, after all. She wore her normal clothes to and from work, exceptionally modest by commoner standards even.

She hesitated a moment, thinking of his last comment, before speaking confidently. “Your patronage is very welcome, Baron.” She assured him, and placed a hand on his forearm. “I am pleased that I captured your attention so.” She said, shyly. “I recognize you from the audience, before you began to see me in private.”

Was it an embarrassing thing, for a nobleman to be recognized from a crowd of watchers? She didn’t know. “Did you have a favorite song of mine? I can dance to it for you, if so?” If not, she hoped he would by the time they were done. Nixie was going to be pressed to come up with new dance numbers as it was, and foresaw many days of planning and practicing new dances, once she learned his tastes better.

____

The man already knew that it seemed to be more than a passing fancy, but his lessons as a noble, what few he had been properly given, policed his words heavily. Stahl was petrified of being too forward with her, of frightening her away or disgusting her, but this seemed to be the easiest proper way to get and hold her attention, by purchasing her services for so very long. The flush upon his cheeks remained as she laid her hand on his arm, if anything the small act would've only encouraged such a reaction, but he was thrilled that she did so. "You recognized me?" He asked, voice hushed. It was not the hush born of embarrassment, but rather flattery, the Baron hopeful that the other might have found him particularly memorable, or even - were it his hopes were true - handsome. "There were so very many people, when I watched you before."

To be truthful he preferred private displays, like this, where he could be entirely honest with her, and... well, she could be as honest with him as someone in her profession could be. He knew that a large part of this was fantasy, that she wasn't really Rose Ritter, that the glam and glitz of this dancer beside of him was an act, but Stahl still found himself wanting to know who she really was and what she was like. Rose moved with such grace and passion that he knew that she loved dancing, perhaps not in such a sexual and exotic manner, but she adored it, and it was that adoration that had enthralled him, amongst other things.

Still, with a gentle touch he set his hand over hers on his arm and smiled to her, wanting to seem amiable, if he might. "If... if it's not too forward of me, lady Rose, I could escort you to the tram." He wasn't unaware of how far it was from the club, having taken it to get here in the first place. The Baron might have had a small plan in his mind to offer her his coat, since she didn't have one, though it was up to the dancer as to whether he'd ever have the chance to implement it.

But, the question of a dance. The Baron's eyes darted away for a moment as he quickly downed the rest of his glass, as if the drink would give him an ounce of courage. "... Scatter's Dream?" He asked, hardly able to give this divine woman a command. Oh, if his men and women knew what she did to him, they would never let him live it down. "If it's not too much trouble."

____

He seemed so flattered by it! Nixie couldn’t help but blush, as she removed her hand and stood. “Of course I did. You were nearly always near the front, and you always looked at me so strikingly.” She said and smiled to him. She couldn’t imagine not recognizing him at least, and had recognized several regulars, truth told. Still, she smiled at him. “And there were not too terribly many.” Other dancers had more, she knew.

As to the tram, she considered it. He was, in truth, her patron for the next two or three months. There was no great harm in it, and he had all her time, or at least a solid eight hours a day, should he choose to have it. “You may escort me to it later, if you want.” Though she’d be in a hurry, so she’d have a chance at remaining dry. Hopefully the rain would not be too bad by the time their time here was over. She didn’t want to get soaked through to the bone.

She’d likely return his coat on the tram, should he ask, and already made plans to get off a stop early, so he wouldn’t only have to vaguest idea where she lived. That, she decided, would be the best choice. There was no need for her patron to have that information at all.

“And it’s no trouble.” She said and moved over to the music player, selecting Scatter’s Dream and moving to the small low stage set in front of him to begin her dance. It was a particularly sensual piece to dance to. She found it an interesting choice, and, eyes on him, she began to move, drawing him in through her dancing, moves designed to mesmerize, to invoke desire.

It had been embarrassing when she began, but now she counted it among her best dances, as she played the part of a coy woman, flirting with the unseen, a hopeful, sensual woman. She would dance for a bit, moves designed to entice before her skirt fluttered to the ground, leaving her still clad in corset and garter, stockings and unclothes. More was always more tempting than less was, after all.

Hopefully he enjoyed the sight.

____

That she recognized him and accepted his offer! The man was nearly stunned into silence by such generosity on Rose's part, and Stahl did his best not to try and hide his face for the smile he wore. He had been trained to smile as little as possible, and to never grin when not around one's family as a Baron, but oh he could hardly help such things. They came naturally to him with Nixie's attentions, especially since she seemed to have little problem with him escorting her. He'd been afraid that she might think him lecherous in his pursuits, and he didn't banish the notion that she might still, and this could just be a test.

But, he didn't have time to linger overly long on such thoughts, the woman moving to begin the number he'd so bashfully requested from her. Stahl crossed his legs, for all-too-obvious reasons, and gently set his hands in his lap, ignoring the liquor beside him as he watched her so very closely. It wasn't simply her body that drew him in, but her fluid motion, how one move simply blended into the next. There was no pause or hesitation in her when she was in-tune with the music, Stahl had decided that it was a wonderful thing to lose one's self in.

Of course that wasn't to say that he didn't admire her body, the woman's legs in particular having an effect on him that he would've been rather embarrassed to speak about in polite company, and as the song came to a close, Nixie's skirt falling away from her body, the young Baron Nimitz was wide-eyed, rather enraptured by the Azrik dancer. "R-r-rose." He managed, stammering, knowing that where he to stand he'd likely embarrass himself utterly. To say that he enjoyed the sight would be a gross understatement, as the Baron found that being in her presence when she danced was akin to the worst sort of torture.

The young Baron was putty in her hands, were it she wanted that.

"You dressed like that on purpose, didn't you?"

____

Nixie finished her dance as the song came to a close, and walked over to him, leaving her skirt where it lay. “Of course, Baron.” She said and smiled to him, rather understanding of his embarrassment. “The skirt is meant to be detached.” She assured him, and then smiled, pleased. “I hope you don’t mind terribly so. I can always reattach it.”

She was comfortable in her own skirt enough not to fret. Besides, his response was really quite the compliment. “It didn’t displease you, did it?” She could always see about other clothes. “I had thought the more modest outfit might make you happier.” As a noble, at least. The dancer knew that the nobility preferred their women covered up as much as possible for propriety’s sake.

Still, the young dancer smiled to him, and remained standing, in case he wanted her to return the skirt to its proper place. “If you desire that my wardrobe be changed, it can be arranged, Baron Nimitz.” She assured him. “You need only say so.” Work may have more modest outfits that fit her. If not, then he may have to pay for them himself, but given the amount he already spent, she had a feeling that such was of no consequence to him.

It was more than Nixie would ever consider spending in one go, but the dancer had rather modest funds to begin with. It only made sense that she had so much less to spend in one go than he did. Still, she was his dancer for the time being. What he wanted, he would certain receive from her, dancewise and company wise at least.

She firmly ignored his arousal. That part she had nothing to do with whatsoever. It was out of her jurisdiction, though she could always arrange for a girl for him, if he insisted those needs be sated. That’s what the other girls were there for, after all, to be had when requested by the clients, and he was military. There would be no trouble there.

____

The man initially shook his head, not minding that the skirt came off at all. As she said, it was meant to, and what was the point of dancing the likes of which he'd just witnessed if it went without a bit more skin showing. Of course, it soon occurred to the man that she might interpret his gesture the wrong way and raised his hands ever-so-slightly, "Oh, um. No, lady Rose, not at all. It's just fine." After all, he certainly didn't want to insult her by having her cover up. It was more than just fine by his standards.

Throwing his glance elsewhere, the young noble shifted in his seat, making sure to keep his legs crossed as not to embarrass either of them overly much. She might have caused it, but he was very aware of the parameters of her work, and wouldn't dare move on her in such a manner. "Your wardrobe is lovely as it is. I, um... well." The poor Baron Nimitz never really got used to this part, being as hamstringed as he was in terms of interacting with her. It felt cheap and voyeuristic to simply watch her dance and sit here, but she was only dancing for him, and so he supposed there was some slight redemption in it.

"Y-you have an effect on me, I fear." And it would be one he would leave at that. Did he want her to dance further? Certainly, he adored the thought of having her do such a thing, but he didn't know if she wanted to. The last thing he wanted her to feel like was some toy for his amusement, even if he might have already given that impression. "You move so effortlessly." She made it seem as easy as walking from one side of a room to another. "It's like... watching a cloud billow and rise." Almost immediately after the words left his lips he regretted them, thinking them childish and inane. His gaze sunk from berating himself internally and after a moment or two, he apologized.

"... forgive me, lady Rose, that was foolish of me to say."

____

She smiled at his compliment, odd as it was. The dancer placed her hand on his forearm, to sooth him. “Baron Nimitz, it is alright.” She took her seat. “Did Mr. Kesselring not fully explain the contract to you?” She asked, haltingly, uncertain. It seemed as if it hadn’t been explained to him at all. “You are my sole patron, you see. It gives you the right to up to thirty hours in my presence a week.” She said, uncertain. The other ten she was expected to conduct work around the cabaret regardless, though never with a customer, of course.

“We can certainly meet at places other than here as well. It’s almost expected, along with my accompanying you to social events, if you wish. If the cabaret or I don’t have appropriate clothing for the event, you are expected to purchase it as well.” She said, and looked to him, uncertain.

He was terribly shy. It was endearing, but a little exasperating. “You have exclusive rights to my dancing during this time, and if all you want to do is sit and talk that is fine as well. The contract you signed should have specified my talents as well. I am to do anything expected of a noble companion, but the body arts.” She explained, having been trained extensively so that she would be up to nobility standards in quite a few areas. He was such a shy noble. It was endearing, but also rather bothersome.

“I do request you let me know if I displease you somehow, Baron.” She said. “After all, my time is yours for the foreseeable future.” She could even meet him after work, if he chose. It was all in the contract he had signed, but she supposed he may not recall it. The noble was young enough that she could even be his first companion. That was most likely the case. He was young, inexperienced, and no doubt Mr. Kesselring had damn near pulled everything he could from the other. Nixie would double check, to make certain he wasn’t expected to purchase her anything more than suitable clothing for social events.

____

He must have looked like a terrible fool, if she felt the need to explain matters to him, and no doubt he was one on some levels. "I understand." Stahl murmured once she had finished, "I know that I am... or rather that you're not to sleep with me." And that he should not request it, not that he would for fear of upsetting her. That much had certainly been explained to him in no uncertain terms. There were women here, at the club, meant for it, but Stahl had found more often than not that they didn't interest him.

The ones who enjoyed what they did weren't the kind of woman he adored, though they were beautiful in their own way, and those that didn't, well. He couldn't bear to be the kind of man to dig someone deeper into something they despised. "I didn't know," Stahl started, "That I could see you away from here." That they might actually get the chance to do something together that wasn't him staring at her. Such a thought gave him a degree of hope, though he was hesitant to act upon it. The thought of social events did amuse him though, knowing social events - as a noble at least - on this planet were laughable in comparison to the Empire proper.

If one was invited, perhaps a formal dinner at the Aodha cousin's manor in Krakov, maybe. That was about as posh as it got on Kosterbrau, but there was no need spoiling the thought with such musings. "I don't think you could displease me, Rose." He whispered quietly, a heavy sigh escaping from him as he reached to place his hand over hers once more. "But for the sake of propriety and to... avoid temptation, it might be best that you refrain from dancing, for now." At least until he had regained some sense of composure.

Already his mind moved to think of what he might do with the other, away from this damn cabaret, where they might act like civilized individuals, as equal as a commoner and a noble might become. "Is there anything you enjoy doing, Rose?" He asked, doing his best to move the subject into a new and fresh direction, one away from where he was a stammering fool who couldn't look Nixie in the eye. "Any films that you might want to see?"

____

She smiled at this and refrained from dancing, rather gladly. He needed time to recover his senses, she was sure. “Of course you may, Baron.” She assured him. “Anytime you wish. I can give you a number to reach me at.” She’d pick up an unactivated commsunit and give him the number for it. “And I enjoy many things.” She said, debating on what to share.

How much of Nixie did she share with him? That was always the hardest part. “Swimming is a great pleasure for me, and I enjoy walking amongst the gardens, and going to galleries.” They were luxuries for her, of course, but she liked them nonetheless. “And I enjoy reading as well.”

As for films, she considered the matter carefully. “There is a new action film coming out.” She said and smiled. “Search for the Ruby of Scatter. How you heard of it?” She wouldn’t mind going to see the film. It wasn’t supposed to be the most amazing film out there, of course, but it was supposed to be good, and she looked foreward to possibly seeing it.

“But tell me of your interests, Baron, please.” She wanted to learn more of him. “Though I know I have some time to learn.” It sounded as if he planned on them seeing a film together sometime. Well, there weren’t enough noble ladies to go around on this planet. She supposed it made sense. Why else would he want to take a commoner with him? No, it seemed like he lacked in female company. Well, she could certainly give him that.

Still, that she was, in essence, nearly his girlfriend for the next several months almost galled. Oh well. So far the baron had seemed a good man. That spoke a lot for his character, and she decided she’d let his character speak for itself the rest of her time with him. He didn’t seem overly interested in pushing past him limit.

Besides, she received quite a handsome payment for this time, she reminded herself. The house ensured she received a good chunk of the change exchanged, and she would be sure to enjoy it, given he was covering quite a few of her expenses for awhile.

____

He smiled, pleased that they might discuss - or even participate - in something far less sexually charged than what had come before, as lovely as it might have been. The Baron's mind swept over the possibilities that had presented themselves, knowing full-well that he could take her to a gallery, and even perhaps to one of the indoor gardens, though this weather, and even this season, was no time to be swimming, at least outside. Winters on Kosterbrau were not a pleasant thing, especially near the titanic ocean that covered most of the planet's surface. It was a frigid body of water even in the summer, and the cold did little to help improve its condition.

But the Ruby of Scatter? That was one of those films about that Landwächter archaeologist fellow, wasn't it, the one who always wound up fighting Coalition gangsters and occultists? They were fun movies, and maybe this last one to come out would redeem the last, rather cheesy entry in the series. "I haven't seen it yet, but I have read some mixed reviews." Still, he let that slide for now, a topic to return to in a few moments, if he might manage such.

A rather curious look came over his face as he was made, if only briefly, to think of his own interests as an outsider might. To Stahl himself he had a rather busy, full life, one that he couldn't really consider having hobbies or anything else to tide himself over with. But, being made to think of it made him realize that, on several levels, he could be a rather dull man. "Well, I enjoy reading too, history, particularly." Anything about history, really, the young baron was rather obsessed with it. If there was anyone who took perfectly to the Kaiser's propaganda efforts regarding the Hegemony and its ancestors being the "flag-bearers" of God, it was Stahl Nimitz. "I play games, occasionally, strategy and the like. My sister finds them annoying sometimes but, well, I write them off as practice for work." Though his job was more tactical in nature than strategic, but he wouldn't sully the conversation in the details.

"... outside of that, though, all I really do is work." He spoke, realizing it himself as he spoke, having devoted the past two years of his life to the Landwächter nearly completely, what little time he had left being spent on making sure his sister was in good spirits and safe. "I do share the title of baron with my twin sister, Alke." Stahl added, figuring that was probably enough detail on that topic for now, the last thing that he wanted to do was intimidate her with his noble status.

"Could you cut your shift short here, Rose, if we were to... go see a film?" He inquired gingerly, hoping to get her out for an evening, if she had no objections to such. It was several hours until her shift ended, or so he presumed, it barely being past lunch as it was. "If you had no qualms with it, I could see to dinner as well. After all it is a, ah, bit cold for swimming right now."

____

She smiled at that, and nodded. “I can do so at your request.” She said and placed her hand on his forearm once more. “It is not trouble to see a film and have dinner together.” It looked like her patron required her elsewhere. “I’ve put in most of my required hours here this week already.” She confessed.

“If you would like, I need not return here for the week.” She said and bit her bottom lip. “And we could spend our evenings together.” It was easily done, and she knew it. Besides, she ought to make the offer at least. “Perhaps I could see to introducing you to my hobbies, or we could play a strategy game together.” She offered.

Certainly they could merely speak, and that seemed to be her main purpose for him. “And, of course, I can dance for you whenever you ask it of me.” She said, pleased. “I’ll come up with new dances during the day time for you.” She said, pleased to have the chance. She didn’t often get the time to coordinate new dances. The woman smiled.

“I would have to ask you to remain here, while I change into my other set of clothing.” She said quietly. It would be odd, to have a patron see her so. She’d likely remove her stage makeup and put on something more subdued as well. She hoped he wouldn’t mind too much.

This entire next few months were going to be crazy, she knew, as she tried to cater to him. Nixie hoped she learned his expectations soon. It was going to be a time and a half as she tried to figure everything out, to make him and keep him happy, but not so happy that he wanted to buy out her contract for too much longer. Perhaps she could convince him to continue to be her patron, but in a different manner, for a different business. She considered it.

Perhaps she might convince him to sponsor her for a dance troop. She hope so. He could be her way out of this business. Maybe she’d even get a position in the dance troop in Wismar. It wasn’t a giant one, or a Hegemony-wide famous one, but oh, oh it would be nice to be there.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and DemiKara

Stahl brightened the moment she accepted his proposal for an evening out. To meet her away from this bustling, hedonistic place for the rest of the week? The Baron enjoyed the thought, both that he wouldn't have to come here and that she wouldn't either. With a smile he reached to gently pour himself another drink, pausing to offer to do the same for Rose, if she wanted such. The prospect of simply being with her put him in a rather generous mood. "It sounds marvelous, lady Rose." He mused.

To be introduced to her hobbies, who she might really be under her sensual dress and makeup? The man absolutely relished the opportunity, and would do his best not to let it go to waste. "Well, I didn't imagine I'd follow you into the dressing room." He jested playfully, recrossing his legs in the other direction, if he was to wait for her here. To see her dance was a treat, he decided, but to actually be with her was a bounty. Oh... where would they go first? The man's mind began to race, unsure just what to do or where to go with her. Perhaps the theater first? Or a walk? This was horrible weather for walking, he reminded himself.

"I'll be waiting." He murmured to her, returning to his thoughts that she might go and change for being out. As lovely as she looked now, they were clothes best suited to the bedroom and not the theater or a restaurant. Were it that Nixie wanted him to fund her, to become her financial patron, all she would have to do was give the word, though she might not know such yet. Nothing would delight the young baron more than getting her out of such a lewd institution.

Except, perhaps, that she reciprocate his feelings. But Stahl dared not think of such a thing, thinking it lecherous of him to even consider it. She was simply doing her job, he knew.

____

Nixie smiled and stood once more, sipping at her new drink until it was finished. “Let me change. You can decide where we’ll begin while I do.” She said, and stepped out of the room, heading to the dressing room. It looked like he was eager for such a thing. It was likely that he enjoyed such a location about as much as she did then. The young woman stripped from these clothes and changed into the much more modest grey dress with green trim she had worn here, one that came to her ankles. She put on the thick tight she wore against the cold as well, and found much of her other gear. She did have a jacket, she reflected, but it was thin and would be soaked in a matter of minutes.

The dancer still pulled it on and removed the makeup she wore, replacing it with less make up, and more natural makeup. There, that was much better. Nixie slipped on her rather sensible if lovely flats, and looked herself in the mirror. She still looked attractive enough to keep his eye on her, she hoped. Uncertain, she fixed her hair more securely how she had it styled. There would be no need to pull it down today.

Satisfied, Nixie grabbed her clutch and headed back to Room 17, before knocking and entering. “Baron Nimitz? I’m ready.” She said, and offered him a smile. “I’m afraid I’m not a particularly colorful dresser usually. I could wear more eye catching things later, if you would like.” What she didn’t have she could come up with from inside the cabaret. Someone would have modest colorful clothes that fit, if he preferred the peacock colors of the nobility.

It wasn’t easy, ensuring everything was set to noble standard, but it was doable. The young woman hoped he enjoyed himself on these outings though. It wouldn’t do for him to lose interest in her, not when so very much could come of her maintaining his interest. She’d just have to manage to keep it, somehow.

She knew it could be a shock though, seeing her go from a rather skimpy black number, to the much more modest grey and green outfit she wore now. Hopefully it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

____

Stahl had taken to standing, making sure that what little he'd drank had no effect on him being as the baron had yet to eat today. The thought slipped his mind, at times, when he was on his way to the cabaret. Perhaps simply meeting with Rose would cure him of the habit, but some part of him knew better. It wasn't this place that elicited such a mistake from him, but rather her. Already, were it that she hadn't eaten already, he'd offer her lunch before they went to see the film together, Stahl had decided, and would leave it up to her as to where they would go.

The man had no idea what kind of food she liked, after all, and wouldn't dare subject her to something she didn't enjoy.

The knock and her voice immediately snatched his attention away from whatever thoughts he held, smiling to Nixie as she stepped in, dressed far more modestly than before. The change in dress didn't phase the man, nor did it seem to dampen his appetite for her as he debated mentally on moving to her, or his coat and hat. "You look lovely, Rose, don't worry." He offered, realizing that he would need to get his things before he escorted her out regardless. Quickly he moved to his peaked cap, sliding it over his styled hair rather easily before he took the coat from the rack, hesitating. She had a jacket, but it looked light as could be.

So the baron took it from the rack and gently approached her, holding it up ever-so-slightly to offer it to her, if she would take it. His uniform was already wool, and it would keep him warm wet or dry, but her clothing didn't seem so hardy or impervious to the elements. "It might be a bit big on you but, black is your color." Stahl joked, hoping she'd take it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be cold and miserable on their outing. Besides, to have a woman wear an article of your clothing? That was an achievement, in Stahl's eyes.

____

Nixie hesitated as he offered her the coat. “Well…” Hers was rather light, she bit her bottom lip and smiled, uncertain. “I suppose I do look well enough in it. Are you sure it’s allowed?” She wasn’t familiar enough with the rules governing the military to really know if wearing his jacket like so was allowed or not. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.” She said quietly.

But she had glanced out a window on the way over, and it was still raining, if not too hard, or so it seemed from the inside levels. She bit her bottom lip and then offered an uncertain smile. She didn’t want to break the law by wear his coat, but she didn’t deny it was terribly sweet of him to even offer. Still, she’d have to remember to bring her own from now on. It wouldn’t do to let him have ideas.

Though it would be nice to be warmer than she would be otherwise. She made a lean living dancing, after the house took its cut. Her winter clothes were never quite up to snuff on Kosterbrau, and she well knew it. Her jacket would keep her warm enough so long as it was dry, but add in rain, and she’d be cold in short order.

“Are you sure you’d be okay without it though?” she asked, uncertain. Was it allowed, would he be okay? She didn’t know. But it was cold, and she’d wear it, if he insisted. He was her patron. It wouldn’t do for him to fall ill visiting her. He might take it as poor luck, and write her off. That would not be a good thing in any way shape or form.

____

He smiled and nodded, rather amused that she might interpret it as being against the law. Of course there were laws against impersonating veterans in order to obtain benefits or pensions, but that was a much more complicated affair than simply wearing a coat. One had to have intent, a full uniform, forged chip-identifiers, the whole lot. "It's perfectly acceptable, Rose, as far as the law is concerned." As far as she was concerned? Well that might be another matter entirely. "You won't get me in any trouble." It might get him some teasing from his sister or comrades, if they happened to see him, but that was about it.

"I'll be just fine in the rain with this." He gestured to his uniform, if vaguely. "I've been caught out in much worse situations in worse clothing." It was part of his job, after all. He didn't relish maneuvers in the elements, but he was bound by oath to do it, and more, if it was asked of him. Still, he didn't want to reflect on such matters with such a lovely woman her, and so he moved to where she might slip her arms into the sleeves of the coat, and let her wear it, as well as she could. It was a deal long on her, and roomy, but he supposed that was to be expected.

"... there, black really is your color, Rose." The compliment was genuine, the man thinking that the color suited her hair and her eyes marvelously, hoping that she didn't mind the rather personal gesture of him offering her his coat. "Now, I meant to ask you but I forgot, before you slipped away, have you eaten yet, today?" If not it was a matter easily enough remedied. "If not, I thought we might get something to eat, once we're away on the tram, and before we go catch our movie."

The Baron offered Nixie his arm, if she'd take it.

____

She smiled and slipped into the too large coat. It seemed a good deal longer on her, she realized, but didn’t drag to the ground, luckily enough. Besides, it wouldn’t get her in trouble, and she’d stay dry. Cheerfully, she pulled out a folded up cap from her clutch and slipped the clutch into one of the pockets. She’d have to remember that later, of course. The young woman placed the cap carefully. It wouldn’t provide much protection from the rain, but it would help a little. “I haven’t eaten lunch yet, no.” She said quietly.

She flushed though, at his compliment. Well, it was a common enough color in her wardrobe, she supposed, and it did look good on her. “We can do so.” She accepted his arm and smiled to him, pleased. Lunch, a movie, possibly dinner after. She was going to be spoiled by her patron, she could tell already. He seemed determined to do so, at least. Well, she didn’t mind at all. He could spoil her all he wanted.

Nixie smiled. “Let’s get going. I would hate to be caught out in worse weather, and there’s no telling if the rain will remain half so mild.” Or rather, mild down here. It was likely worse on the level above, but Nixie didn’t know if they’d take the tram up or not. Anything was possible when on the arm of a nobleman. She just had to make sure he didn’t tire of her, the dancer reminded herself. It was in her own interests that he ask her to cut her contract with Kesselring at the end of this.

The idea of having a patron in an action dancehall was exciting, and it caused her lips to curve with a pleased smile, but she didn’t have that just yet. She had to impress Baron Nimitz. Luckily, it seemed she had a good three months in which to impress him as much as possible. Surely in that time she could convince him. “You know…when I dance for you, it need not be sensual. I am classically trained.” She informed him, hopefully planting the see for a good deal more than what she had now. “I can dance both the ballroom dances that nobility prefers and ballet as well.”

____

The man smiled as she took his arm, lightly placing his spare hand over hers. To think that she was on his arm now, and that he was escorting her! At the very least his heart was pleased to venture out of this place, and see her in a stronger capacity than simple sexual entertainment. Stepping into the hall he pondered for a moment, wondering if it would've been better to let her lead, as she knew the place better. Still, to hear her suggest dancing besides what was usually seen here in the club did pique his curiosity. It explained why she mastered this art with such grace, at least in his mind.

Stahl glanced to Nixie as his eyebrows climbed slightly. "Classically trained? Rose... are you asking to dance, later?" He wouldn't mind a dance with her, not in the slightest, perhaps just before or after dinner, if they had the chance and the time. Of course, ballet would also be lovely to see, but he knew they hadn't the room for it here, or really anywhere in the city besides a dance hall. But a private waltz between the two of them could be rather delightful. "Now, Rose, is there a back way out of here, that I won't have to take you through that gaudy antechamber that is the public floor?"

____

“I would greatly enjoy dancing later.” She said and smiled to him, leading him out the back. The young woman smiled and glanced about, guiding him to the employee entrance. “It’s okay, we don’t like leaving out that exit either.” She confessed. “It’s incredibly demeaning at times, and a bit dangerous for the girls as it is.” She said and then smiled to the guard on the door.

The guard offered her a nod, and opened it for them, to reveal the alley to the back of the building. “Here, come this way.” She said, and stepped through. It was still raining, but not badly so, and the smiled at that. At least her patron wouldn’t get too wet, while they made their way to the tram. “The tram is in this direction.” She said, and gestured the way. This was simply amazing, she decided.

She had a patron, and one that didn’t seem to want to meet with her in the cabaret all the time, or simply see her sensually. “Tell me….about your sister.” She said, thinking to what he had said. Sister were a safe enough topic, she supposed. “Are you two close?” They might be, but they may not be.

She didn’t have any siblings. “What is it like having a sister? I don’t have any siblings myself.” She said and smiled, hopeful to learn more. She did want to get close to him, and learn more. It would be necessary to maintain everything.

The two spent several hours together, lunching at a small café, enjoying the film, going for a walk among the gardens, and then, simply, having dinner together. Now, he had found a dance hall for them, and they had spent a good hour dancing on the open floor, music playing. It was an open night tonight, with a public dance being held.

They have been incredibly lucky to have such an event tonight. It had all been a simply wonderful way to end the night, but it seemed like it was winding down. The dancer smiled, and leaned against him. “Have you enjoyed yourself, Baron Nimitz?” She asked, and smiled, pleased with how the day had gone on. It seemed to go so very well, at least. Everything had gone smoothly, and he hadn’t yet seemed to tire of her, at the very least.

____

The Baron, hardly able to believe his luck from the day thus far, glanced to the dancer beside him as she asked such a simple question. Daringly he moved to gently lay his hand over hers, his gloves having been long-ago hung in his belt, holding it carefully. "Do you have to ask, Rose?" Of course he was enjoying himself, immensely, even if he knew that her company with him was something he'd purchased and not won fairly. Her worries of him tiring of her were ill-founded, more likely based in the intrigue and business that went on with the nobles of the deep-empire, but he wasn't so foolishly concerned.

A noble marriage was something everyone likely wanted, as a noble, but Stahl was far more concerned with simply being happy. Alke had already found what thrilled her, and some hopeful part of Baron Nimitz wanted to believe he'd found what did the very same for him. Of course, to admit to his sister that it was a dancing girl at a local cabaret might get him into a fair deal of trouble. He wasn't sure how he'd go about mentioning such a development to Alke, in all honesty, but perhaps, if he and Rose found that they enjoyed each other's company, he might introduce her in a week or so. That was a proper length of time, wasn't it?

"Tonight seemed to slide into place perfectly." He mused, utterly delighted that they'd been able to take advantage of all that they had. Did God will for this to happen? Stahl couldn't help but think so, letting him have lunch, a film, dinner and a dance with this lovely creature beside him. To the Unterscharführer, her common status meant nothing, save that he might not have to bother with going to a 'noble' function every time he wanted to see her in public. "I fear I long to repeat it."

____

Nixie offered him a bright smile at this. “Then we shall.” She assured the nobleman. “Whenever you wish.” She offered, rather pleased. It had been quite the day. Still, she hesitated and smiled. “Will we meet up tomorrow, Baron Nimitz?” She asked, rather curious. He basically had all of her time this week, after all. She had put in her hours at the cabaret already.

Of course, it was possible he didn’t wish to see her daily, but judging by the past few days and this one as well, he wanted to see her for at least a few hours a day. “I can meet you somewhere other than the cabaret, if you like.” That wasn’t a hardship. The trains crossed much of the city, and she could certainly leave in enough time to get to wherever she needed to see him at with ease. Still, it was obvious to her that the day was heading for a close, and thus it was time to find out what she needed to know for the next day.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too offended by her asking. She had, unfortunately, forgotten to get a mobile for him to call her on. Well…He seemed gentle enough. She could safely give him her true number, she suspected. That wouldn't be a great hardship, particularly if he chose to keep her on later. Of course, she knew there was a chance he wouldn’t…but had she known his thoughts, she would have realized he preferred her for keeps, rather than just as a kept woman.

It was an idea she refused to entertain at all, the very possibility sending her heart into a tizzy. No, if she was lucky she’d be a chorus girl in a dance hall and work her way up, with his patronage. That was the best she could hope for and it was what she set her heart on.

____

The man felt his heart skip at her smile, hardly able to keep his cheeks from flushing as they did. He imagined that he could see her tomorrow, and the next day, if he so desired. Unfortunately his duties with the Landwächter did take precedence, and he did have matters to oversee at his post before he could visit lovely Rose again. "I would adore seeing you tomorrow, I just don't want our visits to become too... routine." Too boring is what he meant, but he didn't want to upset her by saying such. The man didn't ever want to insinuate that she would be at fault for such a thing, rather he didn't want the two of them to grow so used to each other without him declaring his intentions, lest they find each other unappealing.

"Perhaps we might find an indoor pool, some time. Perhaps not tomorrow, but some time when we can swim together." Considering she said that she enjoyed it so much. He could appreciate it, though he was never much of one for swimming - more for a lack of chances to swim than any genuine dislike. Stahl was a hint nervous at the chance of swimming in the ocean anyway, and preferred to stay away from the beaches. The poor spacer was much more comfortable with the concept of a sea of space than a sea of water. Things could hide in water, after all, not so easily in space. "I think meeting away from the cabaret might be preferable, if you don't mind?" He asked gently, not wanting to be too presumptuous.

"Shall we decide where now or... tomorrow? I could call. I have some business with work in the morning, but once muster is dealt with and there's no outstanding business with my men, I... I could be on my way." He didn't want her to have to wait overly long after all. Perhaps, given that there might be a delay, if the situation proved unpleasant tomorrow morning he should simply wait until tomorrow. "... and on that thought, perhaps I should just call tomorrow, if work holds me past a certain time." Baron Stahl let out a lengthy sigh on that note, speaking without words that he predicted such complications. He was less of an Unterscharführer at times and much more of a babysitter, at least when he wasn't being berated for the shortcomings of his men.

"How shall I reach you, lady Rose?" He asked, pushing such thoughts from his mind as he squeezed her hand gently. Oh were it that he knew her desires, he would have offered such patronage to her immediately, without a second thought, if it might warm her heart to him. Stahl was, however, deathly afraid that any forward act on his part might cause the lovely woman beside him to terminate his contract.

____

“I wouldn’t want them to become routine either.” She assured him and squeezed his hand with her own. Still, she noted down the thought, so she could consider coming up with new ideas of activities for them to do. She didn’t want to lose his interest. That would go poorly for her, if he chose to terminate their contract because things had grown much too routine for the noble lord. She had no clue that he had any intentions outside of the norm for this sort of relationship though, and likely wouldn’t ever suspect such a thing.

“And swimming with you would be enjoyable.” She’d have to find a bathing suit that met noble expectations of course. “I’ll search for an indoor swimming pool that is suitable.” She assured him, not wanting him to have to bother himself with such minor details. The young woman smiled to her patron and considered where they could meet, before withdrawing her hand to pull a small notepad out of her clutch. She jotted down a string of numbers and smiled, offering it to him.

“Let’s meet away from the cabaret.” That was an easy stipulation to agree to. “You can call me on my comms unit, when you want to meet up.” She offered, cheeks red at the idea. She didn’t know exactly how she would deal with being at his beck and call, but it was her job now, and it was one that she could handle well enough, she hoped. “That way you can let me know when you are finished with work, and if we’re going anywhere that requires me to dress a little nicer.” She wasn’t exactly wearing one of her most formal gowns as it was.

He seemed a good enough man at least, and he had lent her his coat for the evening, when he hadn’t had to, strictly speaking. Perhaps this would be a good arrangement for all involved. She didn’t even consider terminating the contract of possibility on her ends. Mr. Kesselring would levy fine and punishment on her for doing so if she did, and she didn’t want that at all. Besides, Baron Nimitz was a good enough man. She could certainly live with him, provided he didn’t degenerate once they were comfortable together.

____

A gentle hand accepted the piece of paper, taking and folding it twice before the Baron slipped it into his breast pocket. He had her number now, though it was probably a fake one, he reminded himself. "Delightful." He murmured, on the note of being away from the cabaret, "Perhaps somewhere pleasant, a little cafe or eatery." Where they could walk out and not feel like they had to hide their faces behind their collars. It was hardly that Nimitz felt Nixie poor company, far more that the man didn't want her to be at all ashamed. But, he reminded himself, she did choose dancing, and she was so very good at it that she must have enjoyed it at some level, her passion all too evident to him.

"I know you probably don't want me escorting you all the way home, but..." He began to ask, figuring that much. She likely didn't want him to know where it was she lived, exactly, just as she had probably not given him her actual comms-number. It was a disappointing fact, but one that he had expected from the beginning. She was with him because she was paid to be, not because she wanted to be. "... might I at least offer it part of the way?" Stahl tried, hand returning to rest on hers. "I fear my conscience wouldn't let me go without trying to help." He'd feel like a sorry excuse for a Baron and an Unterscharführer for days if he went without offering, and somehow or another Alke would find out and he'd be in quite a deal of trouble.

Already Stahl wondered if Alke would figure that he was seeing someone with him getting in this late, even through the rather unorthodox and roundabout way that he was doing it. It was no surprise that he was already concocting excuses and stories to explain his lateness, but a small corner of his mind told him to simply tell Alke the truth, though he knew where telling the truth often got him. The Baron dismissed such thoughts in a moment, squeezing Nixie's hand once more.

____

“That sounds delightful.” She said, and smiled to him. Much better than the cabaret at least. Still, she considered matters carefully before offering him a smile. “And I suppose you can escort me to a tram stop near my place.” She offered, knowing he wanted to help, was all. The woman understood that it was something expected of him, at least. Of course, it meant he’d see what a poor neighborhood she lived in, but that was fine.

She could deal with that, and really he ought to be expecting it all. Nixie saved every cent she could to try and find a way into a dance troop. It wasn’t much but it might work out well. “It isn’t in the best part of town. You’ll have to be careful on your way back.” He was in uniform at least. It wasn’t likely that he’d be attacked. He was pretty obviously not half so poor as most of the inhabitants. Still, she led the way to the tram and smiled.

“I’ll be fine though. Don’t fret.” It was her part of town after all, and she knew it very well. She was known by it also, and that would keep her safe enough. Unlike, of course, the poor Baron who wasn’t familiar with it, or with the sort of people in it. She smiled and squeezed his hand, pleased. It would be fine. Still, she considered matters, and looked to the sky, before removing his coat, folding it over her arm, and offering it to him, slipping her clutch into her own pocket.

He’d need his coat back for work the next day, she was sure. She’d be fine in her jacket until she got to her place. It wasn’t too cold down in the slums, after all. There were too many densely packed people for it to be too cold.

It was rather odd to be without the coat suddenly though, and she ignored the chill that the coat had protected her from. “Thank you for letting me borrow this. It was kind of you.” And he hadn’t had to, despite the fact that he did. The dancer offered him a pleased smile, having enjoyed the added warmth of the heavy wool coat.

____

The Baron happily accompanied her, thinking her terribly kind for letting him do such a thing for her. Stahl, of course, knew that she wasn't nobility or gentry, but he didn't expect her to live where she did. Seeing such a thing made him recoil somewhat - not out of disgust or displeasure at the thought of being there, but rather at the thought of her being there. He looked over the place with a pitying eye on the tram-ride in and the stop, however brief it was, and accepted his coat with a sigh. "You're most welcome, Rose." Came the gentle murmur, knowing that he would have offered it to her any time she asked, though he wondered if she knew such a thing.

"Stay safe, please." He offered, holding the coat in his arms, unsure what to say or do. He'd never done anything like this before, never courted a woman or been, as the commoners say, on a date. How did someone end one of these, without wanting to end the courtship? Just walking away seemed so very rude. "I cannot wait until tomorrow." Stahl added, sighing soon after. "... I should probably let you go. You don't want to miss your stop." Even though he wouldn't mind spending more time with her.

Still, she was her own person, and she had her own life to attend to, he knew. The Austran man did his best to root himself in the tram as she stepped off, making himself wait until the doors closed to finally move again.

____

She smiled at this and stepped away from him. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, quietly not mentioning his name. She didn’t want someone to hear, to think he’d be an easy mark, true or not. She watched the tram take off before she walked down the path to her place. In the end, she had waited until they were at her actual stop before getting off. He was being courteous after all, it wasn’t like hundreds didn’t live in this area. The woman walked home, pleased with how the day went.

As she unlocked her door and removed her jacket, bolting the door shut behind her, she considered the next day. It was unusual, she decided, this job of hers. He treated her less like a companion and more like a noble lady that he wished to court. That was something to think of, and she did just though, considering all that was going on as they had spent the day together.

Nixie smiled as she chose a simple dress, just as modest, for tomorrow, and relaxed with the public television, catching up on the news. It was good to be informed. Perhaps he’d take well to her knowledge. She didn’t know for sure, but better safe than sorry. Still, the date today was on her mind, and she smiled, pleased by it all.

____

Weltkommissariat Bureau,
Wismar, Administrative District,
October 3rd, D -17

The rain had settled in for now, the weather front having brushed up flush against the inland mountains, dooming the coastal city to a rather dreary couple of days as they weathered its duration. Bernard was glad that he was inside, even if being the clerk-on-hand for the immigration office was a rather boring job. He'd rather deal with dreadful boredom than be stuck out in that cold mess outside. Already he had Wismar's ambient electronic station playing on his wrist's computer, the music quietly playing as if it was within his mind. Such a way allowed Bernard not to disturb anyone else, even though there was no one else here to be disturbed. They kept a minimal staff in immigration affairs, even here on the frontier, considering how few actually ever came through.

The cold war between them and the Coalition kept things pretty stable between their two states, at least in terms of population fluctuation. Bernard wondered if defectors were shot in the Coalition like they were in the Hegemony, all too easily remembering the Grenztruppen office just down the hall. Perhaps they were, and that's why they didn't see too many people coming in. Of course, it could have also been the matter of the frontier, the lax population density and the lack of any significant interstellar traffic, at least in comparison to the Inner Empire and Core Worlds.

With a sigh he took up the pen he was using to doodle on a notepad with once more, admiring the ship he'd managed to sketch thus far. It didn't look like a warship, perhaps it was a freighter of some sort. The thought spurred the Belkan's mind, wondering what it was made to carry, and what house's merchant fleet it belonged in. Liquid or gas? Solid goods or raw materials? All valid questions that he pondered while the steady rain fell outside, providing a lovely natural accompaniment to his music of choice.

____

It had been a very long journey to get here, Aerilyn taking the longest way to get to the Hegemony that could be managed. This was one of the few border planets that she had been able to get to without being smuggled to and so she had taken it. Her red coat was soaked by this point of course, as was the hat she wore, but underneath it, she was still largely dry. The lining kept her dry, even if everything else was wet. Uncertain as to her welcome, the relatively small and far too thin woman knocked on the door before entering. It had been some time since she had several meals a day, what with the destruction of the family livelihood, on top of their deaths. No, Aerilyn had managed enough to get here, to flee here, hoping for, if nothing else, a new start. This place, at least, had not killed her family.

The brunette tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and tugged her coat sleeves down, to better hide the bandages still wrapped around her arms. The back of her hands, at least, had not been too badly burnt, and were healed enough to go out in the open air so it wasn’t too obvious. “Hello?” She said, uncertain. “I was told to come here to immigrate?” She said, looking to him, eyes filled with hope. If she could immigrate here, then, at least, she could get further inside this nation, and perhaps find a job tending to gardens somewhere. The burns wouldn’t stop that much work at least.

After all that had happened though, she was nervous. They almost never said good things about the Scatterran Hegemony in the coalition, but it couldn’t’ be as bad as it had been back home. Besides, here she could hopefully, safely, settle down and find a new life. She couldn’t wander the stars forever, and, well, she was all alone now. Aerilyn closed her eyes until she was certain she wouldn’t cry. “Is that right?” Was this where she came to fill out all the needed forms to immigrate to the Hegemony. No doubt there were quite a few to be seen. She was a little nervous about it all, truth told. Still, she had any papers she might need, folded on the inside of her coat where they would stay dry. Now, if only he remained sitting, so she wasn’t towered over. It would be obvious she was a foreigner, she supposed. Most of the people she had passed on the street weren’t half so brightly dressed, and were all several inches taller. Well, she was Seshan. Seshans just weren’t as tall as other Scatterrans were.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ottoman and DemiKara

Bernard hadn't noticed the knock for the music that played on his computer, too caught up in his drawing and his relaxation to notice that there was work to be done. Only after she spoke did he bother to look up, wondering if the track he was listening to had vocal samples in it, only to be shocked out of his work by the sight of her. A rather embarrassed look came over his face as he stripped back the sleeve on his arm to bring up the holographic display and silence the music. "M-my most sincere apologies, ma'am, I didn't mean to seem dismissive." He shoved the doodles and the papers out of the way, where they wouldn't be seen by this newcomer, Bernard not even bothering to rebutton his cuff in his haste, bowing his head in apology.

"It is correct, this is the immigration office. I know there are dozens of offices here in the Weltkommissariat, it can get confusing." Especially to someone looking to immigrate, of all things. He smiled, flushed, hoping that she wouldn't be overly upset with him, though she looked terribly troubled already. If the clerk didn't know better, he'd have said that she seemed about to cry, but put that aside for now. Business and professionalism came first, after all. "How can I help? Do you need to begin processing?" No doubt if she was here to immigrate, she was already here on a legal aliens visa, and the sooner she was off of that the better. Only citizens had legal rights, after all, and though by her birth as a Scatterran she was granted some kindness from the law, she was not given all of its protections.

Already he was reaching for the various holosheets they kept in ample supply for such a situation, taking one of each that was required for this young woman to begin her process to become an official citizen. "I am Bernard Kissenberth, there's a desk you can use over here..." He moved to stand and show her to it with the folder of sheets in hand, soon standing by it and pulling out the seat, only to see just how short she was in comparison. Part of him wondered what this was, what this meant, if she was a Scatterran. If she wasn't she was still welcome, but if she was, then it meant she was something far greater than he, if only by birth.

"... if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

____

She smiled to him pleased. “I do need to begin processing, yes.” She said quietly. She moved to the desk and the seat offered and took it, smiling to him. “I’m Aerilyn Steyn.” She introduced herself. “I’ll have to…fill out all of these sheets?” She said, looking to them curiously. She was on the legal aliens visa, and rather hoped to be off it soon, so she could find a better situation than what she had. Aerilyn was tired of the current one by rather a lot. She looked the sheets over and frowned slightly. “This might take me a bit. My spoken Belkan is better than my written.” She said quietly, and puzzled it out, careful to do so. It seemed basic, if comprehensive.

Still, she was glad to have to chance to fill it out. “I may need help with some sections because of that. I’ll let you know.” The brunette removed the rather soaked hat so it wouldn’t drip over the holosheets and set it to the side. She smiled as she managed, easily, to fill in her name. “…Do you know how long it would take the paperwork to process? I’m hoping to find a better situation than my current one soon, you see, but I suspect I’ll have to be a citizen first.” She was in the rather bad parts of town, with quite a few other legal aliens as well, many of which had yet to undergo the citizenship paperwork yet.

“I don’t have any crimes on my record, if that helps.” Certainly not. Aerilyn had made certain to stay as clean as a whistle, and she was glad for it. It was better if she did, after all, and it kept her from having trouble later on the line. The coalition was already not fond of Seshans. She hadn’t wanted to give anyone more reason to be less found than they already were. Doing so made things like what happened to her family, happen. Her brother had always been in and out of minor trouble, and she supposed, finally angered the right amount of people to have their home destroyed. No one had thought to see if anyone was in it of course. That would be humane, and that wasn’t what they got.

Aerilyn had been lucky to be almost home, rather than inside.

____

"Of course, here, let me get my seat." He'd help her with the language and the forms as it was. "If you fill it out in Aenglis that works just fine, it's a recognized language." If she wasn't overly confident in filling out all the papers in Belkan, that was. They had all sorts coming into the Hegemony, some times, from all corners of the Coalition. Luckily the Coalition's major language was also one of the most widely spoken tongues in the Hegemony as well. She didn't have a very foreign sounding name, at least, part of him wondered if she was what he suspected, but he dare not ask a thing yet. It was rather forward of him to ask such a personal question, and that would be far, far out of line for him to do.

Besides, he'd have his answer soon enough when she began to fill out the sheets and such. Without a sound he lifted his chair and soon sat it beside hers, not too close to be intrusive but close enough he could see anything she pointed out, if she had questions regarding the sheets or his language. "The lack of criminal history will help. There's no real background checks when it comes to granting citizenship or considering people for citizenship. We don't exactly recognize the laws of other nations as legitimate, like the Coalition. Becoming a citizen deals more in making sure that all information pertaining to you is recorded and truthful, and then seeing that you swear your fealty." A rather simple affair really, sped up especially if the immigrant in question was a Scatterran of any number of nationalities or ethnicities.

"Here," He offered the woman a stylus and checked over the papers in front of her, making sure that she had the first page on top, as not to begin part way through all the documents. "We won't get far without this." Bernard smiled, hoping that he might help bring this woman out of her rather dreadful looking mood. The paperwork certainly wouldn't, at least it never had that sort of effect on him.

____

Aerilyn smiled and filled out the easy information first, including her race. She was Seshan, and that got her into this mess. “Sorry if I’m not the cheeriest. It’s…a great personal tragedy that had me leave.” She admitted double checking her paperwork. That she could fill it out in Aenglis was certainly helpful, and she smiled at that. It was lucky that ti seemed to be spoken so widely here. She was worried it might have been a problem, but they weren’t as…well, as rumors in the coalition had said. “I think I’m glad that it seems so simple.” She confessed. And oath of fealty wasn’t too bad of a thing to demand, and she could certainly handle taking one. She continued to fill out the papers, lingering over some of the wordy sections to ensure she knew what they were asking.

“I couldn’t stand the attacks anymore, and I wanted to heal in peace.” He coat sleeve got caught on the edge of the desk, and slightly annoyed, she set down the stylus and slipped out of the coat, for now, letting it hang over the back. She wore a sleeveless dress underneath, largely because sleeves irritated the burns even through the bandages. Still, she wouldn’t say a thing. Her arms were the worst, but they could have been so very much worse than they were. She could have been close enough to die, she reminded herself, and as long as she kept using them, even though the scars cracked at times, she shouldn’t lose mobility. She just have to keep moving her arms.

The woman picked up her stylus once more and looked it all over, knowing he was likely curious. Perhaps she should say something before he did? No. No, if he asked, she’d answer. Otherwise, she’d say nothing. That was the best choice, under the circumstances. “Thank you for all your help Bernard.” She hesitated and then glanced to the hat she wore. “Ah…do you know a place that might sell inexpensive coats? I noticed mine rather stands out. I don’t want to be marked as a foreigner so fast.” Red was such a bright color though, and had always cheered her. Her entire family was prone to bright colors. Had been prone. Aerilyn focused on the first sheet, before setting it aside, finished as far as she could tell. She had missed a signature, but hadn’t noticed.

____

Bernard smiled to her as he could from where he sat, nodding as she spoke. People rarely immigrated for pleasant reasons, after all, and if she had come from the Coalition then, well. It was to be expected that her reasons were not the best. As she shed her coat it showed the man just how personal the reasons were, and though he didn't recoil visibly, he made a note not to ask her of such a thing. It would be forward and rude of him to do so, he knew. "We do try to keep the forms and the paperwork as simple as possible, that things might proceed smoothly. Let me know if there are any boxes or sections you don't understand." Belkan could be a confusing language, at times.

He glanced to her hat as well, and then to her coat, pondering himself what an inexpensive coat would mandate. "Well, there are several places, especially in the financial districts, the mercantile areas, but are you still operating off of an alien's chit or have you been implanted yet?" For the purposes of finances and transactions. Some aliens chose to be implanted off the bat, and others simply used the chit for their finances - usually people here on the whim of some other state, SSOR workers or Commonwealth nobles. "Some places refuse service to those without an implant. They're afraid they're criminals." Sometimes it was true, sometimes not, but stereotypes existed for a reason after all.

Soon enough Aerilyn had finished with the first sheet, and he looked over it briefly, her information and her completion of the form. She'd missed a signature, hidden plainly under another box, it was easy to mistake its line for just another box's frame. Though, as the man was about to point out the small mistake she'd made, he realized just what it was that the other had listed for her ethnicity. Unbelieving eyes checked back on the note of her heritage, and they grew wider as he realized that it was a Seshan woman who sat beside him. Most Scatterran ethnicities and nationalities were granted automatic partial citizenship, just for their birth, though full citizenship came with an oath of fealty, but the Seshans were granted even more favor in that regard.

They still had to swear allegiance but, their loyalty was already proven, in the eyes of the throne. "Miss Steyn." He managed, quietly, biting his lip as he gently pushed the holosheet back to her, if only to show her what she missed. "You accidentally skipped over a signature." To think, a real Seshan! "Y-... you didn't mention that you were a Seshan." Bernard flushed brightly, absolutely ashamed now for how dismissive he was earlier. "I do apologize for my conduct earlier, miss Steyn."

____

“The chit. The implant made me a bit nervous. But I suppose I should go ahead and get one.” She said and smiled slightly. Then she glanced to the sheet he handed back and quickly signed on the indicated line, before she caught what he said, and seemed to deflate. “I-is it a bad thing? Here too?” It was horrid in the coalition, and she had gone to what lengths she could to disguise it. But he wasn’t acting like it was bad.

“And you didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong…” she said, confused. She had hoped here, given the last stand before the exodus, it would at least not be something to try and do her best to hide, though whatever mean she could, but it seemed it might be after all. Aerilyn bit her bottom lip and wondered if she should continue on to the Erutin trading post, but decided not to. There she would stand out by virtue of not being covered in all of their markings. Here might be a touch better.

Perhaps if she bound her chest she could pass as a teen for a few more years, if a small one. It wouldn’t work forever, but with makeup she could prolong the trick until she could figure something out. It was what she did in the coalition, often enough. “It’s one of the reasons I left. If it’s somehow wrong to be Seshan here too, then I should see if I can’t go further, some how.” There had to be some place where it was safe to be who she was, even if she didn’t know where that place was or how to find it. Aerilyn just wanted a home where she wouldn’t be attacked for once. “Please Mr. Kissenberth, let me know now if I should just move on.” She hadn’t noticed anything, but without the implant, most just assumed her a foreigner or a criminal. She could live with that, for a little while.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. The Erutin might know of another, farther place to move to. Aerilyn had just hoped this would be the last nation for her, if not the last city. Kosterbrau wasn’t exactly what she had been looking for after all. She preferred something much farther inside the boundaries, where it might be safer to live, and perhaps a bit greener, though it was too much to hope for that much and she well knew it. Still, there had to be gardens for her to work in somewhere, and she wasn’t certain what other marketable skills she had as a foreigners, other than as a factory worker, if she set her hearing aid correctly. She'd have to get the right size battery here, before going any farther in, no doubt, but that wasn't a great hardship.

____

"Well, I would advise getting an implant as soon as possible, miss Steyn, if only for ease of transaction." And lack of prejudice, though to see her race would make most people dismiss the claim of criminal behavior. That and all citizens had to be implanted, it was the law after all. Though the question that it was "a bad thing here too" threw him off somewhat, and the confused look he wore for a moment or two betrayed how he felt. Why would it ever be a bad thing, that she was a Seshan? Of course, the thought slipped his mind for a moment that she hailed from the Coalition, and it would make sense that only in a land of hatred and bigotry could such a thing could be. "Of course it's not a bad thing, miss Steyn. Your people saved our nation." Her people were the only reason why he was able to be who he was, how his mother and father and family and friends had the freedom to live as they did.

"We are alive because of your blood. I-... forgive me. I fear I felt like I was being dismissive earlier, being distracted by my music. I didn't mean to insult you by doing that." He had only been passing the time, but in a way he was far more fortunate that it was Aerilyn that had come through the door and not any of his superiors. No doubt they'd haven given him quite the chastisement for such lax attention. "You, well. You have automatic citizenship, as soon as you finish these papers, and take the implant." Her oath of fealty was taken as already given by the blood of her forefathers. "We can see about setting up your stipend, if you'd like, once this has all been seen to."

The Exodus Stipend, a rather rare outflowing of state funds to racial and ethnic Seshans, a way for the throne to repay its debt to those who had given everything and more that the Hegemony might be born. It was more than enough to live on comfortably, though not quite enough to be on par with lower nobility. "Please don't leave. We are honored by your presence, and were you to pass us by it would be a... a grave disappointment." An insult that they didn't want to suffer, and one that would pain all good patriots, were it that they heard of it.

____

“I’ll get the implant today then.” She only needed to fill out the paperwork? “..I’m glad then. I’m afraid I’ve been rather nervous the entire time coming here.” It wasn’t a bad thing. She would be safe here, and it was clear that he was confused about why she had ever even been worried. She smiled at him, shy. It was safe in this odd new nation. His people seemed to feel like they owed Seshans a good deal. “…anyone would have stayed behind. My ancestors just made sure others didn’t have to.” It was something she had cursed in the past, but now, she rather thought she’d be proud of it.

“And I don’t think you were being dismissive. I’ve head desk jobs can get boring, at times.” Still, the note of a Stipend caused her to look to him, rather confused. That hadn’t been mentioned in any of the pamphlets she had received about becoming a citizen. She frowned to Bernard, rather uncertain. “I won’t leave. I was scared that I might not be welcome, but I can see that’s not true.” She said hurriedly. “It’s just because of how I left the Coalition, that’s all.” She assured him quickly, and smiled for him, hopeful it was all smoothed over now.

“But what’s this about a Stipend? Is it for new citizens? It hadn’t been in the pamphlets…” Though she was rather grateful for it. Perhaps she could get set up a bit easier. That would be nice. Though she had a feeling she’d be buying clothes more out of the teen section than her own, when it came to replacing her current clothing. There were some rather annoying disadvantages to being smaller than other Scatterrans. Aerilyn hoped he didn’t mind all her questions. She didn’t want to be a bother.

Absently, she filled out a few more easy to answer questions on the holosheets. It was better to get it all done, if it meant she’d be a full citizen soon.

____

"It's a minimally invasive procedure." The tiniest of chips planted in your wrist, there to provide an interface to the empire-wide extranet, enable economic transactions and to monitor a citizen's vitals and track their location. It was a security measure, both for the citizen and for the society. and one that she hopefully would come to terms with, if she was going to be a functional citizen here in the Hegemony. It wasn't that small of a sacrifice considering what she gained in return, a favored daughter of Scatter among Scatter's only true children. "You'll hardly think there's anything in you after a few years, it's like a part of you after a while." The only reason he really knew he had his, having been implanted not long after birth, was because he used the computer so often and had to use it for economical purposes.

Would his people have stayed behind? He didn't know, it was a situation that no one wanted to think about, but every child found themselves playing when they were children, along with the Battle of Alncford. Every boy and girl in the Hegemony pretended, at some time or another, it was that fateful night before the Exodus, or the muggy day that the SMS Kaiser was sunk. They pretended for but a moment, once or many dozens of time, that they might turn the tide themselves if only they had been there.

That they could prevented the world from going mad.

"Your people did what no one else dared." He quietly offered. Aerilyn had every reason and more to be proud of who she was and what she came from. By the blood of her people were all the glories and the magnificence of the Hegemony made possible. "You'll be eternally welcome here in the Hegemony, miss Steyn, within reason." If she turned out to be some kind of psychotic or murderer, well then of course she would be put down. There was no corner of the empire that a Seshan wouldn't be welcome. "Oh, uhm. The Stipend." He managed, thinking again of his work and see in Aerilyn through the process as quickly as possible. "It's for Seshans. The Exodus Stipend." As opposed to a veterans or a noble stipend. That was why it wasn't in any pamphlet.

It wasn't available to just anyone, after all, just those who were ethnically Seshan. "I'll just need to take a DNA sample, to double check." To make sure that she did have Seshan ancestry, because if she was registered as one and turned out not to be, well... she wouldn't be the only one on the wrong end of the law. The man stood, making a quick trip over to his desk again, returning with a small little device, meant to take a pinprick of skin and transmit the code to the nearest computer to be analyzed in Hrethgir's database for genetic markers.

____

A stipend? Just because she was Seshan? That was an idea beyond any she could have thought up, Aerilyn was certain of it. “Where do I go to get the implant?” She asked quietly, holding up her hand for his test. “And I hope my fingers or my palm will do. My arms are still too injured for anything from them to be any good.” As far as she knew, at least. She smiled to him, hopeful to have it all done soon. An implant would be odd, but she could live with it. Tracking her was more than a little frightening, yes, but she could almost understand it. Regardless, she would have to live with it, for now, and she didn’t mind that too terribly more.

She couldn’t wait to truly start her live in the Hegemony. It seemed to be quite the perfect place to be herself in, and very safe, she hoped. Oh, how she hoped that it would be a safe place, but given the near worship in his eyes at the idea of her being Seshan, she had a feeling that the worse she would have to cope with was someone more in love with the idea of her heritage than with her. Though, she supposed, she’d have to admit to it in front of them first. She could just be a midget or something like that. Aerilyn contemplated that disguise with a small smile.

“Everything is within reason, Mr. Kissenberth.” She said to him, rather likely the reassurance all the same. Still, she was amazed that her people were looked so highly on here. She rather thought someone would have stood up to the Coalition, had her ancestors not been able too. There would have been, only Seshan children and pregnant women, perhaps some elderly on the ships that were Seshan, she reckoned. That would make the most sense. The Coalition didn’t teach its children detail like that, about the opposition.

She’d have to pick up history books about the exodus, to get the side form the people she now lived among. “Is there anything else important I need to know? I know religion is restricted here…but I wasn’t sure how.” She wasn’t religious herself. It didn’t make sense to be religious, not when it came to down to it, not to Aerilyn. What God would let her family die as they had, or let them be chased around the coalition, too scared to settle down, no matter what some of the elders said. Aerilyn knew the truth. Everyone was scared that fi they settled somewhere, they may be attacked.

Like her family had been. They had stayed too long, and been attacked, and it was exactly why Seshans remained on the move there. Well. That would be over, as soon as she got further into the Hegemony, where it was no doubt safer from invasion, or from the coalition in general.

____

"The nearest medical clinic." He replied simply. Every decent clinic had a stock of them, as every now and then there were malfunctions or failures in the chips. They were only machines, after all, it was to be expected of them to not be perfect. "They will get you fixed up right as rain, I'll give you the holosheets to take with you if you like, your immigration papers." To prove that she really was who she was. "No more than twenty minutes, I suspect, and that's just with the examination that comes along with it." There was no need for her to enter into the nation with any glaring disease after all.

"Of course, that's once we get you processed here. I'll have to transmit all the data to the central databases in the empire." Altogether a rather brief and pretty curt affair, but one that still took a bit of time. Perhaps she'd be out in an hour or so, with her certificate of immigration stamped and approved by the state. Gently he took her hand as it was offered and took a pin-prick sample, transmitting the analysis to the computer uplink that rested in his own wrist. Within a minute or two he had confirmation of her markers, tracing the DNA to southern Sorukoy.

"... and you are, in the eyes of the state, Seshan."

With only an hour or two's more work, she'd also be a citizen.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ronin and anarchoanimeism

It was the early hours of evening. The coffee shop was seeing a good bit of traffic after fourth hour. Student life mostly. Throes of pressed button-downs, high-waisted slacks and long black skirts milled about the room, dichotomized by a simple accident of timing - those who had finished their exams and those who had not. The former laughed and talked amongst one other, discussing plans for next semester or mapping out drinking odysseys to be commenced later in the evening. The later hunched over textbooks, bleary-eyes glazing into tome and text and tablet. They drank their coffee black and spoke in a low, grumbling monotone.

Albert was among the former. He reclined in his booth, smoothing a hand through sandy blonde hair and peeking over the edge of his book at the redhead sitting at the table across the room with her friends. Ilse. She was in his modern poetry class. He'd spoken to her a few times. A quiet girl with a pretty face. Albert had had his eye on her since he noticed a copy of Rakitin's Theophany in her school bag by her desk. He held the selfsame book before his nose, cover pointedly angled towards her. He pretended to read - which was, admittedly, hard to do when he felt compelled to peak over the pages every few seconds. His eyes kept drifting to her hair. She kept it long. Sunbeams from the nearby window passed through it, warming the scarlet strands in a soft afterglow of amber.

He'd already decided to talk to her. It was a game of tactics at this point. Simply walking up to her and flirting with her was a viable but disadvantaged strategy. She was surrounded by her friends and was already distracted. What would be best would be if she came to him. Albert hoped Rakitin would help him in this regard. He straightened the book, cleared his throat and put his feet up on a nearby stool. Patience. Patience and diligence. His fingers clasped around a cup of steaming Oriyak and brought it to his lips. He drank and smiled. That was good.

____

The cafe called out to Phillipe. He had been moving through a thick haze since the conclusion of his last exam - Intraplanetary Economic Development and The Role of Labor in the Hegemony - and at that moment, nothing seemed quite as appealing as a warm cup of Oriyak. He muttered something to himself about "commodity fetishism," and stepped through the doors, the morning's newspaper squeezed tightly under one arm.

Phillipe's stupor was of two distinct causes: first, the utter exhaustion of exams. He could actually feel his body breaking down under the relentless stress of the term's finals. Second, the bold headline adorning his paper: "Miner's Strike Brutally Put Down." Underneath the text was printed a picture of what Phillipe could only assume was some censor's idea of the ideal worker: strong jaw, broad shoulders, eyes staring past the viewer into a ridiculous and tasteless future. The article itself was garbage, a fluff-piece at once meant to glorify the Hegemony government's repressive tactics and terrify anyone else brave (or foolish) enough to attempt mass action.

He wandered over to Albert's booth, still enticed by the strong scent of Oriyak, and sat down across from his classmate, cutting off Albert's line of sight to Ilse.

____

"Hey, hey," Albert protested as his friend sat in front of him, "I had a view." He put down the book, scowl quickly dissolving as he looked at Phillipe. An expression like his directly following exams did not bode well.

"Were they that bad, my friend?" Albert shook his head, motioning for a sever and pointing to his cup. He eyed the paper on the table. "What are you doing with that rubbish? You don't read the Voice of Wismar."

____

"I don't want to talk about exams. Bad enough that 'Doctor' Russel made the entire prompt call for us to prove his thesis work, the bastard also decided that it was his prerogative to dismiss the whole materialist canon developed by Monsieur d'Metz of the College of Tannhauser."

Phillipe glanced backwards as he spoke, following Albert's eyes to Ilse and her friends. "I see you did have a view. So sorry to get in the way of your ogling."

With that, he removed the newspaper from his arm and unfurled it on the table for Albert to see, tracing the headline with the tip of his finger. "There is, however, a very real cause for indignation."

____

Albert smiled. "It's all the same with you economics majors. Your heads are full of identical facts and figures, but stick two of you in a room together and you won't hear a word of agreement." The server walked over with a fresh cup of Oriyak tea and offered it to Phillipe. "Should switch to poetry. Much easier to get along with people."

As Phillipe's finger came down to the paper, Albert's grin dissipated. He looked at the article for the first time, sifting through the jargon and propaganda with a suddenly somber expression. The truth was evident enough. Many had died.

"The strike lasted what - a day and a half?" Albert shook his head, bringing his cup up to his lips. Half a day longer than the Barrows Strike had lasted. He flipped open the paper and continued the article on the next side. "I don't see any numbers here. How many workers were a part of this?" Albert wasn't clued in on the specifics, but he knew Phillipe had been following the ordeal carefully.

____

"The official estimation," Phillipe responded, "set the casualties around two thousand miners across the entire system. Unofficially, the count is around six thousand miners as well as bystanders and sympathizers. I understand that the officers in charge of the 'retaliatory effort' suspected the presence of outside agitators. Marta mentioned overhearing a rumor that supporters of Varlin and Black Party radicals had been detected in the area in the weeks leading up to the strike. Who knows. What matters is that at least two thousand people died."

He sipped his tea. "And since when has poetry furthered the cause of the dispossessed? Was it not Varlin herself who wrote in 'Against the Spice Trade' that thorough material analysis of the development of economic systems reveals the basically violent character of all relations of capital? I don't study economics because I particularly enjoy memorizing theorems and formulae for hours on end, especially not when I could be lounging about all day making Ilse feel awkward. You could talk to her, you know. Can't say how much good it'd do, she's a smart girl, after all, but at least then you'll stop staring."

____

A bit of color flushed out of Albert's cheeks at the mention of 'Varlin' and the 'Black Party'. His fingers tightened on the paper and his eyes shifted around the cafe, scanning for eavesdroppers.

A tinge of red touched his cheeks as he mentioned Ilse, and Albert endured his friend's scathing wit with practiced amusement. "Talk to her, Phillipe? And ruin the thrill of the chase? Do you have any idea what happens to a woman when I recite Olodurm's Flower Maiden to her in perfect rhythm?" He shook his head. "It's almost not fair." He winked. "You could try and regale her with a summary of d'Metz' analysis of economic historicity, though. I'm sure she'd fall right into your arms."

He laughed - a pleasant, honest chuckle - before his eyes traveled back to the paper and his smile faltered once again. He knew Phillipe. The subject would not be dropped. He looked up, caught his friend's eye and leaned close.

"I remind you, Phillipe, that we are in a public place," his bright hazel eyes smoldered with concern and warning, "some names are better left unmentioned." He leaned back, thumb idling on the handle of his teacup. He looked at the headlines again, brows furrowing against his own volitions of quietude. Caution was important, even in a place like this ... but Phillipe's indignation was understandable. Two thousand. At least two thousand. Honest workers. Human beings. Life lost.

"It's atrocious." His voice was low and rimmed with iron. He lifted his cup to his lips and sipped, the turn of his lips and the vacant hollow of his eyes reminiscing a rare but palpable disgust. Albert did not frown often. The muscles in his face were unaccustomed to the movement and the grimace left in unpleasant tightness on his jaw and cheeks.

____

"What is atrocious is your reading of Flower Maiden, or for that matter any goddamn poem about virginity. At least pick a good proletarian poem like Cohom's As the Branches. The only person falling into your arms at a reading of Flower Maiden would be Olodurm himself, fainting in shock to think some poor miscreant would butcher his opus like you can.

No, this was not atrocious. It was infuriating. We live in a galaxy where a starving laborer can't even demand another ration of bread without being slaughtered. I wonder whether a slow death by starvation or a quick death before the firing squad is better. I suppose, if nothing else, this serves to disclose the contradictions hidden behind the idyllic face of our dear Austra."

Phillipe paused, his trembling hand hardly able to even lift a cup of tea. He stayed quiet for a moment, then lifted the drink to his mouth with both hands, hoping the warmth might calm him a bit. It didn't.

He found himself imagining that he should be jealous of his friend; was not Phillipe pursuing a nobler truth, while Albert simply laughed and chased after girls?

He shook his head as he set down the tea. He knew that, lofty ideas aside, his soul was not particularly exceptional either. That sort of thinking lead only to narcissism; what sort of radical wanted to affirm himself in that way? Didn't he just write a final exam on the production of subjectivity across varying stages of economic history?

____

Albert watched the trembling cup touch his friend's lips, counting the wrinkles in his forehead above his furrowed brows. It was an expression he was only too familiar with - a deep introspection, coupled with a constant doubt and a vague sense of self-loathing. Phillipe was arguing with himself.

"And what would you have them do, Phillipe?" Albert's voice lowered, "would you follow the advice of our esteemed revolutionary? Put ... how did she say it ... 'a rifle in the hands of every man, woman and child strong enough to bear one'? Spill the blood of indoctrinated troopers or conscripted soldiers pulled from the very masses you claim to support?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by Azrican

Depending on the hour in question the patrons and conversations of the shop ranged, like a great diaspora of the Hegemony. Though times had passed at a length when she was younger, for Marceline Votha, the prodigy of Lord Lucas' Votha shipping magnate, the quiet cafe nestled in the prettier drives of Wismar had always seemed new. Since her days as a strawberry haired child to graduating academy with a Syndicate assignment she had seen and heard much here. Then as now she sat with her school friends, though in the attire of business rather than study.

"If the Magistrate does decide to look upon the expenditures from the companies in the star ports though, Votha may be leaving a hair out of line." Agitha Brandt said, her palms raising a small mug and letting her lips tug into a smile at the woman sitting across from her. Several of the other young noblewomen seemed to quiet as they looked at Marceline; whom only responded through delicate, yet sharp, hazel eyes.

"By Lord Kampf Aggie you act like you haven't known father since we were little girls." They shared a moment's laugh at the Marceline's remark, and frau Brandt gave an irksome shrug of her shoulders. Marceline's eyes however drew down to her wrist, a holographic projection along precious skin of traveling waves -- the Farbant, her father told her -- in a great ocean.

Speaking of Lord Votha, she then found it. Her father had arrived in Wismar, a layover on his way to the Votha estate in Annweiler, her destination as well. Though while Lucas was traveling by rail Marceline had declined a car to instead commute. Like a commoner ...

She thought swiftly before opening the message from father, and seeing his handwriting scroll out over the flesh of her narrow wrist. The family car rides empty again, wanting only dear Marcy. Are you still in Wismar? -- Lord Votha

" -- And whom has our lady's attention now, hmm?" Magdeline von Kollf inquired, leaning herself towards Marcy's arm to glean a look. Marceline drew her arm back and let a coy smile draw on her features, giving Maggie a quick stare. "Lord Votha said you were a nosy little Stierr, Maggie." She responded with a playful tip of her chin.

"Frau Marcy is waiting for her Herr Friedhelm ... " Agitha begun, before Maggie quickly interjected. "In more ways than one."

Suddenly a table of quiet businesswomen seemed to be living in the days of university, innuendo being a humor few nobles could resist; damned be their image.

"Dame Magdeline your intrusiveness is stunning." Was all Marceline had to reply, flushing at the end of the table for a moment until pointing a finger. "And as ladies of the nobility ought to be repenting." She said, taking a hold of her cup from the table and letting out a faint giggle.

In truth, that boy Friedhelm would be here inevitably. Whenever he might find it content to make himself appear. Those zivilarbeiter did have a propensity to be desired when least available.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Azrican

Friedhelm Mahler stepped off the train as it settled into the platform at Meikle Verclyde Station, the gothic architecture and edged, yet welcoming facade and interiors greeting Friedhelm the same it had done the past thousand times he journeyed to Wismar. He loathed this commute, from Kilnsheath to Wismar, it was his own Great Trek: not that he intentionally wanted to belittle the struggle of the Helvett people after the Unification War, but it was a good comparison for him. The joke would likely hit a string with Marcy, dear Marcy.

That was what allowed him to stir quickly from his sleep, what few brief minutes of it he found himself managing these past few weeks. He had to wipe away the crust from his eyes, and shake away the voices. Voices he knew and yet didn’t. He was here now, to see Marceline.

The gears of the train shifted, mag-lev couples activating to lift the commuter just slightly, and it tore Friedhelm out of his thoughts, buried away those pecking questions that chewed at his mind. He was, officially, on vacation as he brought himself out of the chair and gave the stewardess a calm smile thanking her for the tea and coffee and snacks. She offered a bright smile, the Daoine quite smart enough to gather that Friedi had made this journey for a girl, and then went about cleaning up the tables.

Friedhelm straightened out the collar of his attire, a typical fashion statement of zivilarbeiter or social-workers, suit and tie then proceeded to haul his bags down from overhead. There was a running joke that the zivis die in their work-attire, and that when a fellow social-worker did pass away you burn his time card -- some Helvett superstition about the dead wanting pensions. As he stood there in the aisle and brought his backs onto his shoulder his feet remained solidly planted despite the fact he tried to will them to walk.

His face became a glazed appearance, halfway looking down the aisle and then out the window, as if he was deep in contemplation. Look for the car-boy.

Friedi drew himself out of the lapse as a whistle sounded, another train boarding. Hauling his largest duffel over one shoulder he started down the aisle, squeezing his way beside an elderly couple who were obviously in town to visit their children. He gave what little time he could to help them, and as they exchanged thanks and pleases, Friedi turned.

The car-boy's hat came spilling off his head, and he nearly would have fallen over one of the seats if Friedhelm had not reacted quickly. Managing to catch the boy with one hand meant sacrificing his book bag however, and allowing it's contents to spill across the floor. A Neo-Sarenist bible, a few popular magazines and, of course, his handy-dandy Guide to a Successful Career in the Civil Services. "Dammit boy -- " Was all Friedi could comment, before he left his other bags hanging on a seat.

"I'm so sorry Herr Mahler, I didn't look where I was going." The boy said from one knee, a hand somewhere in his pockets. Friedi thought nothing of it, no need for apologies, gave a little scoff and then joined the young man on the ground. "It's no worries, really. Just books, heh." Friedhelm responded.

"You zivi-bites sure do like paperbacks hah." The boy replied, finally removing his hands from the book bag after he had replaced the contents, perhaps not in the right order and offered it up to the zivilarbeiter. "Here you go Herr Mahler, and sorry again."


Friedhelm's thoughts swirled around the curious young man until he thought it bordered on near obsession. This was, partly, one of Friedhelm's conditions: and part of what made him such a good social worker. His mind was, truly, a machine. It was curious, or even suspicious, that Friedhelm had no recollection of seeing the car-boy with the other staff on the 3 hour train ride.

There he went, obsessing again. Friedi made a little huff as he brought the sedan up to the curb by the cafe and threw the Reuter's Glatistant into park. He laid back in his seat just slightly, deciding to take a moment and rest with the thought he won't be returning to an office tomorrow. Or, and this most importantly, getting on another of those damned trains.

His boss, Leiter Marc Kopffel had told him a vacation would be good, especially with Marcy. The Leiter, himself a minor shareholder in the Votha giant that essentially built the planet, had known Marceline since she was only a child. It amazed him, especially now as he sat in a car in the city, at what the will of a few men and women could create. Then again, he was just content to sit here and daydream until Marcy realized he was waiting outside: he preferred not to go inside, Marcenline's friends were ... crass if he could put it bluntly.

So instead, he simply set about preparing the passenger's seat for her. Pulling his book bag from the seat and planting in his lap, letting his mind wander as he waited.

Curious, Friedhelm registered as he felt something foreign in the book bag. Sliding one hand in between the fabric, his face scrunched in confusion a bit, as he felt what appeared to be some sort of mobile drive. Even more curious, Friedhelm suddenly thought -- how did that boy know my name?