Characters involved are: Brin (RED), Sigurd (ORANGE), Citan (GREEN),
Logged by Brin

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Fort Jasper, Council Hall
This main room is furnished with a large, circular ring of a table in the center. Numerous chairs are placed accordingly at intervals; the floor is carpeted in a deep emerald which sets off the mahogany of the furniture nicely. Ornate metal doors lead to the hallways at the <n>orth, <e>ast, <s>outh, and <w>est.
Contents:
Citan


Ah, it all makes sense now. A circular corridor, with some kind of central room, and sattelite rooms around. A briefing room, a Sparring plane, and now...what? Brin pokes his head into a door, which he holds slightly ajar, and tentatively looks around the room. Another meeting room, looking even more nondescript than the breifing room. Oh well, let's see what's on...Hang on. Brin clears his throat very slightly as he spots the Doctor, in study at the table. Unexpected, perhaps. Brin hasn't seen him since the pirates entered the Jasper.
Seated in a chair for now--though he leans back just enough to prop his calves upon another cushioned seat--Citan turns the pages of notes through his hands. A pen is trapped lightly between his thumb and forefinger, taken occasionally to mark a line or scribble a response in the margins. Was this an easier way to have paperwork done? Yes. Just translate it all into Solarian and blithely call them minutes from earlier meetings that he was only now just catching up on. And for the Solarians who might walk by? At least the cover sheets of each stack were relevant to Jasper. At the noise, he lowers the papers studied down gently, regarding the doorway with a cool eye. It softens a bit upon seeing Brin. The Etone who saw many sides. "How are you doing, Brin? Is... there a meeting planned here?"
Brin almost slinks into the room, now as if not to disturb Citan. Little use now, as he has the doctor's attention. How...awkward. "Er, no. To tell the truth, I was just wandering. Getting to know the variuos rooms, and so forth..." he half-whispers, with an apologetic smile. "These are exciting times. And this is an impressive base.". He is now fully insode the room, and almost winces, but catches himself, as the door clicks shut behind him. How dreadfully rude. "I apologise, if I disturbed you...".
"Jasper technology is a marvel," Citan admits, shuffling the papers back into order in his lap and setting them upon the table. "Please, come in. Have a seat," he adds, nodding to the one lining the table next to him. He takes his own feet down. Company, after all. "You did not disturb me at all. I was simply going over some notes." Suit sincerity to words, Guardian, and stand to find something warm to drink to prove just how unimportant those papers were. They were left upon the table, after all. "Would you like some coffee? I believe there is a means for such within every single one of these rooms. One only has to look."
Brin manages a wry grin. Solarians like their Coffee. Never cared for it myself, but, then again, when in Rome (Rome?)..."How...convenient. Yes, thenks..." he looks about for some sort of machine, and spots one or two things that might dispense coffee. Or paper. Or fiery death. "Looking is easier said than done. You'll have to enlighten me as to which is which..." and the grin widens, and there is familiar ground. "I aven't been on this floor before. Each floor appears to have a purpose here. Yet this eems a little less...military...then the rest..." he looks around the comfortable surround of the room.
Ah... another smile appears upon Citan's face, winging its way across the room from Brin as the Etone examines the Council hall. Citan leans with his back against the wall, one foot drawn up in idle pause as he, too, glances. "Do you like it? Khiea and I thought these rooms to be someone more comfortable than the metal halls above. I asked for the Yggdrasil level to be modeled after the same design. Do you like it?" This done, he raps his knuckles upon the cabinet door to his right, causing it to swivel back and reveal the coffee machine hidden tactfully within. "Milk and sugar?"
Self-Denial was never one of Brin's strong points. "Please. 3 sugars..." he automatically replies, then pauses, and thinks it somehow improper, then phffts it away. I'm sure Citan would not mind. And I'm being over-paranoid again. "Yes. I appear to have been allocated a room on the Yggdrasil floor, too, which is...nice. Unnecessary, perhaps, but I can't complain." His smile widens, and he takes a seat.
Citan nods, rummaging about with the coffeepot to start the machinery brewing. "I am glad, if it suits you well." Sugar? Milk? And cream. Come to think of it... Citan pauses for a moment, a thin frown of thought crossing his face before its dismissal. Locating two cups, he adds the appropriate measures and continues to wait. "So... we are here." Right to the point, Hyu? Even so, it is roundabout enough to not be a betrayal of his personal habits. This room is not the base in the Yggdrasil, but the conversation is being brought back in what he can remember from that time. "What do you think?"
Brin smiles. Not one to beat about the bush is the Doctor. Still, it probably suits him, and is a refreshing change, actually. "Of what's going on here?..." he stares at his fingers, knotted on the table in front of him... "Luka seems genuinely interested in peace, for a start. This struck me from the beginning. I'm not sure what history herself and Jessie have, but it seemed to be a disturbing element, at least for the one time I saw them in the same room as each other...". He pauses, and his hands move to his lap, and he makes eye contact again. "Tsukai seems mainly to be an envoy, rather then a representative of Aveh." ... "And Bart...is Bart."...
"Luka -does- want peace," Citan admits softly, turning back to the coffeepot to pour once the gurgle of liquid had turned into a sputter. "I believe she may want it even more badly than the pirates. She, at least, is sincere." What... -caused- that line? Citan's back does not answer. "I am certain it will end up hurting her. The business with Jesiah is logical, if one remembers the relations between Solaris and Shevat." Industrious, he stirs both cups and sets the spoon down to the side upon a napkin. Turning back, he carries them with careful tread towards the table. "If Queen Zephyr could manage to remove the Solarian Regent, it would certainly strengthen Shevat. Pardon, here you are." Plucking the two paper napkins from the crook of his arm, he sets one next to Brin's mug after he lowers the Etone's coffee to the table. "Having Tsukai here instead of Shakhan is telling. But of what?" He only smiles, and retakes his chair.
Brin shrugs. "Many things. Shakhan's upcoming tournament would pretty much require his attendance. Or he's busy. Or he's not keen on these talks. Any number of things...". He sits and stares into space for a while, then continues. "Jessie is affiliated with shevat? I'm sorry, I didn't understand why he would threaten that. I was surprised. He seemed more....level-headed.". How presumptuous. Still, it is time to be frank. Strangew how he is so with both Sigurd and Citan. With Sigurd because it was hard not to be, and with Citan, because he wanted to be.
Citan raises a brow slightly. "Jesiah stated that he had some contacts in Shevat who would be able to hold Luka there if she was taken. I believe that is all. You were standing in the room with me in the time?..." Affiliations were tricky things. He should know. And Brin, too, judging from their talks in the past. Citan falls silent to drink from his coffee, the wisps of steam trailing up around his face and bestowing him the scent of beans from Nisan. Ahh. "Jesiah would be unlikely to make such a motion on his personal wish alone, especially in the midst of talks like that," he finally explains. "He is a rational man. Quite his share of common sense. Then... if it surprised you? Why do you think he would have said such a thing at that time?"
Brin shakes his head. "It just...puzzled me, that's all...That he would threaten to reduce the talks to bickering, or some personal grudge? I'm not aware of any history they might have, so I can't really comment...". Not wishing to seem presumptuous, he attempts to change the subject. "Still, Sigurd seems to be progressing well, we had a short talk with Luka recently, things seemed to progress well..."....he thinks for a second. "Luka seemed to feel I was required in the process somehow. I'm not sure why...Still, anything I can do to help.".
"Jesiah acts with reason when he does," Citan smiles, leaning back to relax in his own chair after another sip. Holding the mug in both hands to absorb the warmth, he considers. "What do you feel about the situation?" Logic and emotion--the two were fine lines between impressions, but both were so very valuable. "Luka is much the same way." Pot, this is kettle. "What seems to be the greatest issue of concern?"
Brin shakes his head. "There are so many. It is hard to single out any one. Talon seems not to be happy about things. Dissent withing Solaris might be an Issue. Also, there was talk of placing restrictions on excavations around Bledavik..." his by now customary moment of silent thought interrupts his spoken train of thought, before he continues. "If I were forced to generalise, then the main problem is that there are too many toes to be stepped upon, and making everyone happy will be extremely difficult. There is still distrust, and it is still a fragile peace, no matter how many of te important players are committed to it...". An inadequate answer, perhaps, but the best he can come up with at this early stage.
"Peace for everyone is hard," Citan agrees mildly, "especially when not everyone is willing to extend the same concern to others that they wish given to themselves." He lowers the mug to his lap, cupping his hands around it still to thieve its heat. "It is... a monumental task," he is forced to admit next with a sigh. Lowering his eyes to the stack of papers, he falls silent against the sheer amount of what was being asked for so blithly by the pirates, and hoped for so painfully by some of the Solarians. Wonder not which side he was on in this. But it -is- a side, and one which inflects itself upon the edge of what is being planned here between the Yggdrasil and Jasper. "With luck. With hope... and work."
Brin stares wistfully down at his hands, folded in his lap. The side he was on was also in question, behind his back, several sides assuming any number of things. Luka had invited his participation, but in what capacity? And what was he expected to do? Citan was right. To do what was by most thought impossible. To bring peace to a world that knew only war. It was an exciting, and frightening time. Even to play a small part in it would make Brin feel as if he had contributed something. As if he mattered. "That, and cooperation. And trust..." and the silence draws down again.
Sigurd has arrived.
The coffee continues a few, desperate wisps of steam as it cools. Citan decides to put another few inches out of its misery. "Is that even possible?" he adds softly. The advocate on the other side. Well, there were benefits as well as curses to glancing over fences of thought. "Is it rightful? Humanity seems to need these sorts of struggles as vents. Denied, they turn to social destruction of one another. This, in turn, becomes manipulated... tell me, Brin--is it a worse crime to suffer the death of flesh, or the death of mind?"
Brin ponders. This is not a subject he has thought about in great deal. "It might seem that preservation of life is the ultimate goal of this process. It's an interesting viewpoint. Perhaps a pessimistic one, but a very valid one...War is...a waste. Of resources, life, and energy. Perhaps it is just me, but I don't believe it is in the nature of people to fight, and kill each other. It is not natural. Social interaction, and the achievement of social standing, and yes, even social repression and the social destruction of others...happens. It is how society works.".
"DNA..." Citan crosses his legs at the ankles, for all intents entirely unconcerned with the morbidity of the conversation. "War is a way of bleeding off the excess energies of the species once it has reached a peak in its developmental platforms. If there is not enough territories to support the population, then the pressure--the level of personal space that we believe it our own and possibly not a manifestation of self-regulation within the species--will cause those under its influence to create more. It trains those who fight to be at a physical peak which may otherwise remain undeveloped in a time of peace." He pauses, drinking from his cup once more to wet his throat. "Is it wired within our very bodies, -by- -our- -definition- -of- -existance-," and for some reason, this point is quite bitter in the rest of Citan's calm tone, "that we must perform physically as we do mentally?" And how did we all evolve? From tribes who sought order through dominance of the flint-tipped spear? Ah. That is bitter
...too.
Brin can only nod. "Perhaps we are both right. Social standing within a certain group is important to everyone, and to the group, assertion of territory is the primary force that drives us, I see your point now. However, in every society, there is social destruction, 'death of mind' as you put it. Death of mind and body will always happen, I do not differentiate between them in terms of how evil or wrong they are. I only maintain my opinion that they are wrong. It is indisputable that this war kills more people than it saves. That reason alone should be justification enough to strive toward ending it.".
The soft bleep and almost unheard hiss of the door to the large room seemed a rude interferance in the rather intense conversation, and Sigurd hesitates in the door. Silly empath, when will you learn to listen to that sixth sense -fully-. Yes, good, you located Citan, but next time perhaps you should wait a few moments and judge what emotions you sense in the room. And who's. So he stood quietly a moment, his hand resting still on the controls to open the door, a tan, cloth sack slung over his shoulder, tied closed with a frayed length of twine characteristic to the Bledavik market. It seemed Sigurd had gotten tired of being cooped up and had left the fort to wander for a bit, as he had always tended to do. As Citan said, DNA. A perfect example of a trait born into him through genetics, the need to wander. Ah, but he hadn't even heard that, had he? No, the doors had only opened to catch the tail end of Brin's statement... and Sigurd's expression alone was enough to show -his- thoughts. Must -everyone-
... talk about war here? Can't they just -relax- for a time..... But no matter, he offered a faint, as close to timid as his personality would allow, "Am I interupting...?"
A smile from Citan. "Then you see." Gently spoken--was the entire point of that to?... no. At let thoughts remain at that, rather than parse purpose upon purpose down to find the single heart of any of this. For, doubtless, there is not one but a multitude. "Not at all, Sigurd," he replies, turning his gaze to nod at the arrival of the first mate. And as gently--and as strange--as he has been through all of his time after his seclusion within his rooms, Citan inclines his head next to indicate the chairs. "Would you like to sit down? Brin and I are simply discussing."
Brin turns in his chair slightly, to nod politely to Sigurd. "Hello, Sigurd..."... He turns back to Citan. "Yes, I think I do. It is the nature of humans to preserve certain things, such as life, territory, and social standing. Even to the point of destroying and killing. It is an unfortunate human condition..." ... he drains the last of his coffee, and muses, staring wistfully at the bottom of the cup. "Progress is a comfortable disease...".
A faint smile given, though a true one, and Sigurd stepped fully into the room where he had not but two nights ago encountered Ramsus, his boots muted on the soft carpet as he made his way over to the tables. Seating himself beside Citan, with a chair between for comfort's sake, and not wanting to intrude on his space, he leans bac, transfering the bag carefully from his shoulder to his lap, some of the contents clinking and drawing a slight wince from the First Mate. Careful, he adjusted the bag to sit instead on the table, placed with all the care of one setting down something very delicate. Which, knowing Sigurd, may or may not be the case. At any rate, the bag was fairly flat, so it wan't anything too large. "I see you've fallen victim to one of Hyu's favorite pastimes." Gently directed to Brin, Sigurd looked up from adjusting the bag to grin a bit at the Etone, then smirks at Citan. "Still pondering over humanity, I see."
"There really is no way to stop..." This weak excuse is whispered, and Citan discourages focus on that by a half-shrug of a shoulder and the leaning back in his chair. Close off those thoughts right there, Guardian. Close them off and choke them into death so that they die in the forgotten halls of the castle's -other- side. There. Well enough for now. Citan closes his eyes partway--although not from weariness--and relaxes. "I must apologize, Brin," he adds mildly. "I should learn to speak of more tactful things." And waltz further, endlessly? Perhaps. "How else have things been? I hope that Nisan is more relaxed, although I cannot imagine why they would not be. And perhaps I should search for some better furnishings for the lounge downstairs...""
Brin shakes his head. What is there to apologise for? Conversation, grounds for thought, and reflection. Something to occupy the mind. "No need to apologise..." he affirms. "I've heard that Nisan is...calmer, at least. Sigurd might know better with regard to Nisan. I have been here most of the time...". He glances to Sigurd.
"I know no better than either of you. Though I would expect the city would be calmer. I saw some more activity as I left to go visit Bledavik today, so tensions seem to be lowering. With the Holy Mother and Bartholomei involved in finding peace, I believe, all things will calm to normal soon enough." A moment's thought, and Sigurd shrugged, flopping back in the chair to prop his boots up on the table, arms folding behind his head. More than just Nisan was relaxed. "Besides, all the citizens knew was that there was a large gun pointed at them. Now that there is no threat, there's no reason to panic. Particularly since very few of them, if any, truely know about Solaris." No gun, no tension, simple enough. Damn that incredibly -blunt- Fatima thinking.
Hmm. Citan, finding his cup empty, stands to refill it at the coffee machine. He glances to Brin as he begins to move away from the table, silently asking the Etone if he should want more. "I should go out and get some fresh air," he muses. But... is there the slightest hesitation at the thought of the Cathedrel? No. That was Khiea's fear.... but who could tell? Anyway. Citan sighs once more at the stack of papers on the table next to him, glancing at them for only a moment before looking away once more. "Things... do seem to be looking up," he offers, a bit wistful himself.
Brin passes over his mug. Never having acquired any real taste for coffee, he thinks his mind might be changed by this, a different sort to what he was used to. "Yes, they do. Let's hope that at least Nisan is safe from attack, and people can live there in peace again. Thenk heaven for small mercies...". He smiles at this. It was hardly what could be called a small mercy. "Still, hopefully it can be resolved in a way that doesn't cause constant conflict.". It's all too possible, he thinks.
"If Luka runs the talks, I'm sure an agreement can be reached that pleases both sides." A statement he stood behind and believed truely... but it didn't mean he'd be any less wary of Solarians. For there was always that which remained unspoken. He worried, oh how he worried, of the Minister, or worse, Miang getting involved, or any other of high rank in Solaris -other- than Luka. Luka he could at least put some marginal faith in... the others... He'd sooner let them have a taste of his whip than sit and listen to their lies. Not that he liked the idea of peace with Solaris in general anyway... The people he could stand, he could talk to and enjoy the company of... but the country? Ramsus wasn't any closer in changing its ideals. Not while the corrupt were in power. But oh, you're forgetting your manners again, Sigurd. And he looked up from where he'd become very introverted and brooding, to the point he worried that he'd missed something. Look alert, maybe they won't notice. And spare a look to Citan
... that meant he wished to talk with him later. Alone.
And the faintest of smiles on Citan's face in reply to it all, fainter still for the fact that it lived in only one corner of his mouth and was partnered by a twist to the cheek that made it uncertain of if it was to classify itself as joy or sadness. "She works as best she can against it all," is his spoken contribution. She and himself, working to handle Cain's dream and adapting it to the failures that were rising every day. What had to be altered to be carried into the future--was that... something to apply to his own life later, perhaps. Later. His fingers touch the papers and then he moves away. "She is far more involved than Cain was, which is... something to keep in mind. At least we do not have with only Minister Krelian when we must think of Solaris." And that done, he gives up on a refill and only takes his papers under an arm. "I fear I must ask my leave... my pardons."
Brin nods, taking it all in. Doubtless, it was going to be a long few weeks. "Good day, Citan. We'll speak again soon, I'm sure..." is his response to the doctor's departure, and he stands, to refill his own mug.
Kelvena has arrived.
Kelvena teleports into the area...
Kelvena has left.
He could have sworn the man was avoiding him. And it was driving Sigurd utterly batty. But the First Mate did not move at first, nor did he offer a farewell as he watched the ex-Water Element closely, for both physical and emotional 'slips' as to what's really going on in that tangled mind of his. It isn't until Citan turns his back that he even moves, slowly lowering one booted foot, only offering the comment of, "I'll remember to bring the ice this time." Make of that what you will.
Kelvena has arrived.
Kelvena teleports into the area...
Kelvena has left.
Citan has left.
Sigurd has left.