The door of the Dining hall bleeps softly, accompanied by the soft hiss os hydrolics as it slid open, admitting a recently squeeky clean Sigurd, still rubbing at his damp hair with the towel around his shoulders, lacking the usual white jacket in favor of comfort. He looked tired, but not irritably so, offering a cursory greeting to the few inhabitants that still lingered before retiring to bed as he headed for the serving area. A day in the desert and avoiding Gebler wore him out, but at least he'd gotten food for the people here.
Brin sits quietly at one of the long trestles, drinking tea from a small mug, his head bent over, studying the pattern on the table avidly, his mind a million miles away. o 0 ( Ho hum ... One wonders if anything apart from staring and tea happens about here. Staring and tea. Tea and staring. ). The whoosh of the door opening catches his attention momentarily, and he glances up at the man entering the hall. He is about to resume his table-study, when a glimmer of recognition flashes across his face. o 0 ( Perhaps it's him. I shall have to see eventually ). He follows the man's progress across the room, and slowly takes a sip from his emptying mug.
Anna is reading a book, occasionally stopping to sip her tea. She's trying to keep her mind focused on something other than her son...
Sigurd fetches himself a mug and looks around, sighing. Damn. All that and he forgot to restock the cider. So he settles for tea, filling his mug from the still warm, though almost empty, pot, taking it and turning to head to a nearby seat, stopped once by one of the Ygg's crew, listening to the man's report, then nods and dismisses him, an amused smile crossing his expression at the salute the man gives. It was almost a running joke among the crew, they knew Sigurd disliked formality off the sandcruiser, but oh well, the First Mate would just have to put up with it. God knows he puts up with all the other crazy antics... Like the time the Young Master greased up one of the metal slopes in the bunk room with some of Maison's cooking oil and used it as a slide with some of the children.
Brin continues to follow the man across the room with his eyes. He nods very slightly on seeing the crewman salute him. o 0 ( Yes, that's definitely him ). He beginds to get up from his seat, but gives up halfway, then covertly looks over to see if the man looks busy. His second attempt is more successful, and he walks slowly, and with purpose over the where the man is sitting. He nervously clears his throat to get them mans attention as he stands across the table from him.
Sigurd looks up quietly from his drink to take note of the, to him, stranger. "Yes, can I help you..?" Still that soft tone, coming from any other person it would have been hard to hear, but his words, despite the soft, exotic accent, were pronounced very clearly to compensate. Even when he was casual, he acted rather formal, really...
Brin clears his throat lightly again. "*ahem* Hello. Um ... " he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm looking for Sigurd, that is, er, a man named Sigurd. I think you may be him. That is, are you him? Or rather" ... he adopts a sheepish grin, and his face turns a light shade of crimson. "Oh my."
Sigurd chuckles gently and nods lightly. "Aa. I'm Sigurd. Is there something you need, sir?" Ever polite, a perfect gentleman... A shame some of that didn't rub off on his young charge. Alas, with Fatimas maturity came with age... Or experiences, whichever came first.
Brin sighs loudly as his face returns to normal, and his chest stops puffing out from hyperventilation. "Oh, I finally meet you. I assumed I was to report to whoever was in charge when I got here, but was unsure whom it was. Some kind soul gave me a description. I was afraid I might get the wrong person.". He begins to raise his hand to his head in some sort of lopsided salute, yet decides against it before it reaches shoulder height. Instead, he reaches out and offers his handshake. "Brin Gaisce, Etone. I've been sent here as .. an envoy, or chaplain of sorts." ... he pauses, and looks at Sigurd ... "That is, if it's all right with you." The sheepish grin returns.
Anna stops her reading, unable to avoid listening in on the conversation, as she's sitting in the same room. She feels rather silly, because she didn't realize that this Etone was a newcomer. So many new faces... just as she feels she knows everyone she meets someone new. Figures.
Sigurd nods gently, reaching to take his hand in a single, firm shake. Solarian style, perhaps, if one considered handshakes of a certain style. It was an old habit, on of a few that have survived the 12 years he's lived in the desert when he left the Elements. As they say, old habits die hard. "A pleasure, Brin. So long as your intentions are good, you're welcome here." He lowers his hand to join the other in holding his mug. "However, I do have a question or two, if you don't mind."
Brin slowly takes a seat opposite Sigurd. "Please, ask away. And be assured that my intentions are sound. I serve the needs of the population of this base, and the sandcruiser. Apart from that, I take no sides.".
Sigurd pauses to take a sip of his tea, letting him get comfortable before he continues. "I'm curious.... How did the Ethos know to send you here?" Lifts that too-blue gaze from the table to fix on the Etone. "So far as I was aware, our base has been kept a total secret until only -very- recently."
Brin sits back, and adopts a thoughtful look. "Well, as for the nature of my assignment, it's not for me to decide. I was assigned to here by the Ethos. As for the how, well, it took a while, but I eventually found the place. My only piece of information was 'Near Dazil'. You can imagine how it might have beenif I had not found the place We shall say that I would much rather take a long time to find this place, then to return to HQ a failure.". He stares into space for a moment, wrapped in thought. "I came because I had to, essentially".
Sigurd looks thoughtful a moment, then nods slightly. "I see." It was understandable, that was how Gebler found them, at any rate. "Though, I'm still curious, why would the Ethos want you affiliated with a bunch of pirates that Gebler is very actively out to exterminate?"
Brin grins ever so slightly. 2It would appear that your guess is as good as mine." His grin disappears as he realises the seriousness of Sigurd's statement. "Although I am sure there is some reason for it."
Sigurd looks skeptical. "They sent you without telling you why....?"
Brin says, "Well, not exactly. Sending me here implies that I am to perform, er, certain duties, as normal course. People need spritual guidance, even in places as busy and fast-moving as this" He indicates the hall around him. "Envoy, chaplain, call me what you will. Perhaps I am to be tested. Perhaps not. For now I simply ask to be allowed to provide spiritual guidance to those who seek it.""
Sigurd seems to accept that, nodding a little, taking another sip of his tea. "I suppose. However the Ethos doctrine is much different than that of Nisan's."
Brin nods. "I realise this, and i suspect his may be the source of some worry. However, i promise now to you not to interfere." He looks Sigurd in the eyes, and continues. "The last thing I would want is some sort of tension between us".
Sigurd nods quietly. "Perhaps you could talk with Margie. I'm sure the two of you would have much to discuss."
Brin sits back, and relaxes slightly. "Yes, that's true, I intended to do this. I wanted to seek the aproval of someone in charge before continuing, however." He smiles, for the first time. "You've been very gracious. I hope we can make this work.".
Sigurd offers only a faint sound of agreement as his words are lost in favor of another sip of his tea. He had his doubts, and he knew the Young Master wasn't going to like this... But he didn't sense any hostile intentions and not -all- of the Ethos were corrupt. Finally he chuckles faintly and half lowers the mug to speak. "I believe you will find we are very easy people to work with."
Brin grins. "Let's hope so.". He stands up, walks over to the teapot, and discovers it is empty. "Bother", he mutters quietly, and resumes his seat. "I'm told going to Dazil or Bledavik is .... hazardous these days.".
Sigurd shakes his head. "It wouldn't be for you, if you have proper ID. For me and my crew... it's very difficult. We're known 'rebels' and Gebler wants us dead. Thus the lack of supplies. We haven't been able to get any without raiding ships, and Gebler's upped defense on them as well."
Brin nods. "Ah, I see how that would be difficult. I've been avoiding these town of late. Perhaps I was being overcautious."
Sigurd nods a bit. "Hai, you wouldn't have to be cautious really. Just don't let them know you're with us."
Brin shakes his head slightly, and begins studying the grain on the wooden tabletop. After a while, he seems to get lost, as if daydreaming.
Sigurd has disconnected.