misswhiskers
Traveller
Name: Michelle Rondor
Race: Human
Occupation: Charity worker
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Post by misswhiskers on Jan 5, 2015 15:46:19 GMT
As the group walked toward their next destination, the Casbah. Michelle noticed some accusing looks from Mattias. Despite the fact that she was often wondering if she could have done more, she took offense for the unspoken blame. She wasn't Snow's mom, nor a trained psychologist. She had done what little she could for him. Well, she hoped, anyway. Apparently her biggest impact on him was encouraging him to enjoy some tea.
Of course, “hookah bar” was an approximative translation for a whole array of smoke-based products. The place was cramped, reminding Michelle of the opium dens from Earth in the history holos. Various exotic smells assaulted their nostrils, despite a high tech air cleaning device working to full capacity. Most people were just enjoying hot beverages and perfumed vapors products, but the lethargic crowd in the back clearly showed signs of using stronger, probably illegal stuff.
Michelle knew about this place and had encouraged the kids to avoid it, with uneven success. For all his faults she knew Julian was no druggie, but she saw how it was a good place for him. People here kept to themselves, nobody would spontaneously start talking to you unless invited to. Also, good and inexpensive tea.
Michelle led them to a table. She could tell that the couple was getting tired by the constant walking around, not to mention the emotional toll of what they were learning. “I'll go get some tea for us all, and ask the bartender if he knows anything. I'll call you if he knows anything interesting alright? What tea do you want Mr and Mrs Snow?”
The couple gave their order and Michelle went to the bar. As she was leaving a human woman walked toward the table. Blonde hair, medium size, stocky build. She was wearing tired military surplus clothes. She seemed hesitant, and her eyes, adorned with deep rings, were shifty. She cleared her throat, and started talking with a low, slow voice.
“Excuse me, couldn't help but overhear... You guys' names is Snow? Like Julian Snow?”
“Yes miss”, answered Karina, “are you a friend of his?”
The newcomer chuckled weakly.
“No ma'am. Nobody's a friend of him. But I knew him from the service...”
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Post by waveshavebroken on Jan 22, 2015 20:07:45 GMT
Laykalar felt the urge to helpfully correct the human - he himself was a friend of Julian Snow - but wisely he kept quiet.
The new arrival seemed lacking in social graces, simultaneously hesitant yet impulsive to the point of offence. Perhaps it was simply the need to share a story that was important to her, or perhaps the slight deficiency in her balance meant that she'd been consuming too much alcohol and had lost what inhibitions might usually keep her from greeting them. Remembering his own experience with the mindfish concoction Justicar had somehow acquired at the charity dinner, Laykalar knew that things could take on a strange significance when one's mind was floating in the right mix of substances. Behaviours could seem suddenly logical or even necessary when they otherwise wouldn't. The eyes on this human were sharp, though. Lucid. Clearly she hadn't had that much. She gave what Laykalar took to be her name.
"Illyana Atramonov".
She was directing her speech to Rondor, with an eye that roved periodically to the elderly couple, perhaps in polite deference to their name and its implied relationship to Julian Snow, or perhaps because she, as former military, felt protective toward elderly civilians in what was hardly the most upstanding place on the Citadel.
“You served with our Julian?” The question, obviously rhetorical given that she’d already said as much, was clearly intended by Karina to coax more out of the woman.
“For all the good it did him”.
"That's quite a coincidence". This from Matthias. The elderly human's voice, while friendly, suggested that he didn't quite trust coincidences. Laykalar reminded himself that the man was formally with law enforcement.
“More unlikely on your end”. There was a hint of a smile here, though it was sad.
“Is that so?” Again, neutral tones, but the suspicion was there.
The woman seemed to flinch.
"Sir, look around you. This is the place for people like me. People like –“ She stopped, but it was obvious to Laykalar, who of course was no expert in humans, that she had been going to name Julian Snow.
She tried again. “You're not exactly inconspicuous, you know. A couple who - no disrespect to you, sir, ma’am - have obviously never been off of Earth in their lives, some...glowing jellyfish... this isn't exactly your sort of establishment". This last to Rondor.
"You'd be surprised" was all that Rondor said, bluntly.
Laykalar was feeling uncomfortable, though it was actually the physical environment more than the emotional. His sensitive skin membranes, adapted to the rich life-giving oceans of Kahje, found the smoky room only barely tolerable, the sensations not so much painful as distracting and irksome. Nor could he guarantee that some of the vapours might not have small but notable effects on him. He therefore spoke up, rather eager to put Atramonov at ease, in part so she might depart with them.
"If this one may respectfully interject, it and its honoured companions were informed that Julian Snow had frequented this establishment, and that we might encounter here others who had socialized with him. This appears to be the case! We are most gratified to find you!”
Atramonov gazed up, trying to look him in what humans took, absent anything to the contrary, for the hanar face.
“I guess I’m glad to… gratify”. She peered up at him, and her eyes went between him and Rondor, apparently deciding on where she knew them from. "I heard something about some dinner that you hosted". She seemed to give a chuckle. "Yeah, I heard about that because Snow got himself stabbed. God, what a mess”. Another pause, another sad eye contact with the Snows. “He needs it, I think".
"Then the other knew him from shared combat experience?"
Atramonov laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but nor was it hostile. From what Laykalar could tell, it was tired, and painful in a way he couldn’t describe. "I guess it depends on what form of combat you mean. It's all the same in the end, right? Some of you go home to your lives, some of you limp out and do the best you can - some don't come back...” She looked down, away. “I was his field JAG there at…well". Laykalar didn't really know what she meant, but she was speaking more for her sake than theirs. "Orders, that’s all. Sometimes you have to cut the losses for the good of the team”.
She turned to Snow's grandparents, her eyes hard. "You're looking for a villain here, you've found one, sir, ma’am. Me, I was one of the ones who limped out. Hardly an honourable discharge when you left one of your own to twist in the wind, is it? But what could I do?"
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snow
Traveller
[TI0]
Name: Julian Snow
Race: Human
Occupation: EVA specialist/troubleshooter
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Post by snow on Jun 5, 2015 7:55:49 GMT
"Forgive me Lieutenant, I mean Ms. Atramonov. What exactly do you mean by 'left twisting in the wind'? We've recieved no word save the Bad Conduct Discharge notice we got after the relays opened", Mattias Snow leaned towards the slightly inebriated woman as he asked the obvious question, the other questions rushing through his mind. The lawman holding his wife by her waist, Karina unable to speak, the vague revelations leaving the couple in shock and confusion about the state of their grandson. "Orders? The greater good? Some get left behind?" The implied statements suggesting the worst to the couple as Karina pulled Mattias back a bit, to give Atramonov her space.
"Well sir", Atramonov drawling, the combination of cannabis and alcohol lowering her resistance to the questions, "short version, your son was a casualty of the narrative the Alliance need to tell in order to maintain the morale on Benning. He saw something...something dark, and bloody. Something that went beyond the horrors of the Reapers or Cerberus" The woman's voice shook slightly as she remembered the massacre Julian Snow's commanding officer ordered, and the repercussions that followed, to say nothing of the Emergency Reconstruction Battalions and the carnage that was unleashed as a result. "And I helped put him in that hell in Joughin..."
Shaking her head, Ilyana Atramonov turned her attention from the grandparents, downing the rest of her glass as she addressed Miss Rondor and Laykalar, unsure of the stake those two had in asking about Julian Snow and Benning, "It doesn't matter now, Captain Johansen is dead, Operations Chief Greene is dead, as is eighty percent of India Company in the division. What is one non rate solider against the reputation of an entire Alliance Marine Division?" The rhetorical question a snarl from the powerfully built woman, a shudder of despair emerging as she signaled for another drink.
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Post by waveshavebroken on Jun 20, 2015 21:04:30 GMT
Beyond the horrors of the Reapers or Cerberus? A distressing idea indeed, but Laykalar could only assume that the human's claim originated in some matter of honour, the lamentation of a betrayal of principle or Enkindlement. Like Snow himself, this woman was layered in subtler regrets than the exterior might suggest to the reflexively judgemental. Times like these bought to the fore the idea of that shared capacity for spiritual awareness, and for wounds that ran deeper than anything inflicted by outside forces, whether one was human or hanar. He pulsated in sympathy, and more than the acrid smoky air or the disconcerting lights, it was Atramonov's pain that made him uncomfortable.
"The other is suggesting a political motive" he said. "It wonders why such would be considered necessary". He was on potentially turbulent waters here, but he pressed on, hoping he wouldn't offend or push the wounded human too hard. "This one would think the reputation of the Systems Alliance armed forces would be secure! Its soldiers and support personnel had worked visibly and with great diligence to turn back the advance of the Reapers, and to then restore stability to the human planets".
"One soldier means a great deal" said Matthias, a hint of steel in his voice. "Particularly when it's our grandson".
That just seemed to make Atramonov even more depressed, and she accepted her new drink with a scowl and the barest nod. Her eyes asked the obvious question of Laykalar. Why are you here?
"This one and its honourable employer" he gestured a tendril at Rondor, "are here because they too have worked alongside Julian Snow as he has served. Not in a military capacity, but in attempting to make this ward a better and more stable place in the aftermath of the greatest upheaval it has known! These ones cannot afford to do any less than what he has done, and that is apply his full effort to the needs of those who are vulnerable. These ones owe him the same commitment".
The human stared for a moment. "Maybe he does have a couple of friends then, no thanks to me. Commitment..." She shook her head, as though to dispel some awful miasma. "I once knew what that word meant. I put on a uniform for a reason".
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misswhiskers
Traveller
Name: Michelle Rondor
Race: Human
Occupation: Charity worker
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Post by misswhiskers on Jul 13, 2015 22:23:08 GMT
He was a scapegoat.
Ever since she had started to work with Snow, Michelle had assumed that he was some reformed criminal, and had patted herself on the back for giving him a chance. It never occurred to her that he had been innocent. He had been duped by his superiors, used like a pawn...
An uncomfortable parallel was drawn into her mind. Their biggest brawl against the Lower Tayseri Elite gangers. They were surrounded, their boss had a gun, and they needed some edge to fight back. They wanted Snow, so she had pretended to give him to them, berating him to sell it and slipping him her mace. It had worked beautiful, he had taken their leader completely by surprise and disarmed him, allowing their friends to make short work of the other gangers.
She had been so proud of herself that day. Like every day where her strategy to rile up gangers and have Snow beat them to a pulp had worked.
Snow had grown more distant ever since, she never quite knew why. She had unknowingly played an encore of the "Let's use Julian Snow as a disposable tool" scene. And it had made the poor kid leave again in the end.
Gods Julian, didn't you know I'm too stupid to be a heartless manipulator? I was just completely out of my depth... As usual...
She felt a lump in her throat. Atramonov caught her eye, and both women were surprised to find the same guilt in their looks.
It seemed to Michelle that Matthias saw it too, but she hoped she was mistaken. Laykalar wouldn't of course, even if he could understand such subtle body language he could never imagine that Michelle could be counted among those who did Snow wrong.
Michelle cleared her throat and talked with a more business like voice to Atramonov, to the soldier's relief.
"Listen, we need to make things right. We want to find him. We know that he wanted to try his luck in the Terminus system, we don't have much to go on but... You both knew of this place, so maybe you can help us find some place he would be drawn to, some support system he would rely on? We need to find him we... We want to make it right. We all do."
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snow
Traveller
[TI0]
Name: Julian Snow
Race: Human
Occupation: EVA specialist/troubleshooter
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Post by snow on Jul 19, 2015 21:24:31 GMT
"The terminus? I, I suppose that would make sense. Snow would want to get as far away from the Alliance as possible," Atramonov noted darkly, her drink emptied as she took a hit from a nearby hookah pipe laden with cannabis. The smoke blunting the rough edge to her voice as she turned to the rather chubby looking woman who was ostensibly Snow's former boss. The former Alliance officer noted the brief flash of guilt from Miss Rondor upon hearing the implication of Snow's fate on Benning. Exhaling the smoke, Atramonov turned back to the group, avoiding eye contact with Mattias Snow as she drew a breath before giving them her assessment of Snow's fate.
"As for a support system, I'll say it plain for you all, he doesn't have one. During the year before the relays opened he had no friends, no family, even his Alliance mandated therapist was indifferent to him. And those were the ones who just let him be, others went out of their way to harass, beat and humiliate him, at least...until he joined up with an former war criminal running a grey market salvage racket. After joining up with them, Snow got worse, assaulting Alliance marines, ending therapy, it was as if he was trying to become the Butcher." A sad breath shuddering through the stocky woman, Mattias's eyes never leaving hers but by this time shocked into silence at the description of Snow's postwar life. "Excuse me...I, I need to go", Karina speaking in a sorrowful, almost broken whisper as Mattias escorted her outside the hookah bar, the elderly woman's sobs racking her body.
"I, I'm sorry, for everything that has happened to him, and what you all went through as a result of my cowardice and indifference", Atramonov murmuring as she watched Snow's grandparents exit the establishment, "I don't know where he might go, but I do have something that might help you all if and when you do find him." The woman stood unsteadily, gesturing for them to follow her to the side door leading into an alley. "I've kept a data file, transcripts, recordings, omnitool data of Julian's time on Benning, from the patrol that caused all of...this, to his time in the Emergency Reconstruction Battalions. I've made copies but given what you all have told me, it's yours now." Ilyana Atramonov pulling out a small data stick from her coat pocket, holding it out to Laykalar. Atramonov's eyes meeting Michelle's before finishing, "I honestly don't know where in the terminus he might be, but this may be enough to get him to come back, it's a chance at a real future for him...."
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Post by waveshavebroken on Aug 17, 2015 13:46:37 GMT
Rondor was correct, of course; Laykalar hadn't noticed the glance of mutual guilt. He might not have noticed it even if he hadn't been oblivious to Rondor's demons, because he was caught up in his own emotion. The thick and caustic air of the drug den amplified his discomfort, a sting that said this is not your place, and yet he was immersed in it all the same. He knew nothing of what Snow had been through - even less than he had assumed he knew - and he could not relate to the Alliance experience; and yet he resolved to be a part of it, because his friend deserved no less.
Atramonov took them to the side-alley, and he pondered the revelations, uncharacteristically subdued.
He supposed that Leaving the Ducts and the wary regard of the downtrodden and dispossessed on Tayseri was as close to a support network as Snow had gotten. Taking the data stick as offered in a forward tendril, he clutched at it tightly, demonstrating his gratitude. It was also an attempt at reassurance, that whatever personal redemption might rest on this, on giving Snow a chance, Laykalar acknowledged it and took it seriously.
"These ones will do whatever they can to assist" he said quietly, although his earnest tone was also tempered by an awareness - perhaps unusually self-perceptive for the hanar - that he might not be in a position, realistically, to do much at all. For Snow, or for this former comrade-in-arms, who in her own way was equally committed, it seemed, to punishing herself. Who equally had found herself lost, and seemed to know no way but down.
They had come to find answers, and they had gotten them, but Laykalar felt distressingly like they had lost something in the process. Snow's grandparents had left the room, so as not to exhibit their distress here, in front of them - a veil of privacy that was second nature to hanar and yet alien all the same, for he could not pretend to know what motivated the need. Atramanov too was retreating. Had she given the stick to him and not Rondor precisely because she wouldn't have to look another being in anything resembling a face? Was it easier, in fact, to keep that distance, to avoid having to see oneself in the eyes of others?
Several years had passed, but the humans were still so strange to him.
The Alliance had suffered much and contributed much; the Reaper War was their crucible. He thought of all that Snow had done for the people of Tayseri, all of the moments he had been something more than just an employee here, and he knew, with a certainty that few could match - driven as it was by his uniquely assertive insistence on the possibility of a glass half full - that they could make this right. They needed to.
"The other has done a great service to these ones today. It asks that the other remember that! These ones... they will endeavour to rebuild that which the passing storm has damaged".
Now wasn't the time for a lengthy spiel on Syancindil's philosophy, but Laykalar knew that this, this was what it ultimately referred to - and matters like this were also its ultimate test.
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