The Song of Dawn (DEI, Open)

GEAR

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#1
August 6th, OE 102
Sana'a, DEI Headquarters
2:00 PM


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"Tilde Cortaine, was it?"

Bertram Kestler's voice drawled out across the interior of his office. In the mid day heat, his tie was worn loose, and even with the fan churning rapidly overhead, he frequently dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief as his fingers groped for another date. Dates, dates, dates! Sometimes it felt to him like was drowning in them. He moved his eyes to the woman before him, seated with apparently no discomfort whatsoever, giving him a faint smile.

"I've acquired something that should be of us to you." She said, in a voice that was like scissors tearing silk.

"As you mentioned." Said Bert hurriedly, seemingly eager to get this stranger out of his office so he could go back to hiding in his refridgerator:

"Listen, I'm understandably skeptical of anyone that might seem a little generou-"

There was a dusty fwomp as something was placed on the table between the two of them. It was an old, black leather box. Giving its corner an inquisitive lift, Bertram raised his eyes at the woman.

"And this is...?" He mumbled, opening it for both of them to see.

"The Song of Life."

Within was a series of laminated, almost perfectly preserved fragments of paper - or, for all he knew, it could have been a very thin metal. Not one to dabble in superstitious nonsense, he made a show of looking it over... and stopped. Something about the inscriptions on its surface grabbed his attention, causing him to suddenly peer closer as Tilde spoke.

"And then it came about that these Two had one Thought and it was a might Thought -- that they would make the Earth to be between the Above and the Below where now lay shimmering only the Endless Waters. So they sat them side by side, swaying their beautiful bronze bodies to the pulsing music of their own great voices, making the First Magic Song, a song of rushing winds and flowing waters, a song of light and sound and life."

Here she paused for a moment, as if savoring the sound of her own voice.

"Some cultures believe that the world was created from a song. Did you know that?"

"T... these are..." Burt managed to stammer as he flipped through the sheets, almost not believing his eyes.

There was absolutely no mistake. He'd seen these figures, these inscriptions before - and not in the journal either, in his own laboratories. A Dimensional Power fluctuation! His mouth suddenly feeling very dry, he said weakly:

"...and you said this was... how old?"

"Easily over ten thousand years, if our dating is to be exact."

Recovering his composure somewhat, Bert placed a hand over his mouth, looking at Tilde with renewed skepticism. And she was just giving this to him? Every alarm bell in his years of business was ringing in the back of his head - it all just seemed to good to be true.

"Why don't you use it?" He asked, as Tilde rose from her seat, dusting her dark coat off and making to leave... but she paused at the doorway, turning her head back.

"Because..." She said, as if it were the most simple thing in the whole wide world:

"It's not my song."​
 

Hitura Rael

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#2
Bertram Kestler had not yet earned Minerva's ire. Yet was the key word. Stationing them in the hottest hellhole on Earth was edging him closer to that though. But the fool could redeem himself if he was smart enough to have air conditioning. How could anyone stand this heat? She envied the women here, covered head to toe yet not overheating somehow. Her act prevented her from really reaching out to ask, there were only a few who would keep it to themselves. They were gone now, except Roman. All the more reason not to shed the coverings in favor of being less miserable. What would he think if he knew? Better to suffer the heat or isolate in her room.

But, Bertram wasn't completely insane or stupid. He definitely had to have somewhere to retreat to that was cool. Surely she could guilt him into accomadating her. She paused several paces from the door, tilting her head slightly at the sound of voices. That was Bertram but... who was the female voice? She didn't recognize it. Well... time to investigate, heat be damned. Having something to hold over Bertram was well worth the heatstroke. She walked silently, stopping at the door, pressed against the wall to listen in. She didn't quite care if she was caught. Not like they'd find her a threat. To them, she had the personality and independence of a wet dish rag. She'd just give him the blank look and tell him she was hot if she was caught, none the wiser.

And here it seemed, she would be caught by this woman. She eyed the woman, curiosity hidden behind a mask of half lidded eyes and blank expression. She was pretty, she'd give her that. But she looked like a gentle breeze could pick the woman up and carry her off. A tinge of jealousy crossed Minerva's thoughts. It was something she felt with many girls, jealous of being whole, able to embrace themselves and be pretty rather than a forced together puzzle. She bit back the thoughts and focused more their conversation. What was this about a song?
 

MKR

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Aug 19, 2018
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#3
Supplies supplies supplies, moving back and forth a tide of things and stuff that kept the people stuck on the last corner of humanity in the Middle-East alive and fed. After all it wasn't like they could exactly turn to farms anymore with the DEC forest having gobbled up all the farmland. The DEI... Survived.
Yeah, survived was about right. Living was an overstatement in this kind of hellish heat- god he wished he was back in the freezing cold chasing down some stupid train with a cowardly monster hiding on it. Stupid thing.

Then again if that hadn't happened he wouldn't be here. Which in and of itself had its ups and downs.

His gaze went skyward, it was still hard to believe- the bossman was gone huh. No better way to respect him then to finish what he started, sadly he had to toss out the Thrud. Scientist man wanted it back, hopefully he dismantled the bomb underneath the seat before turning it on. He didn't mind that guy.
Either the heat was hitting him hard or he was feeling really damn nostalgic with how his thoughts bounced back and forth, because now his mind was on the mission he had 'improvised', keeping an eye on the DEI. Pointdexter appointed him as an intern if only for his own sanity. And security lady who was honestly one of three people in this place he was genuinely really damn worried about, The others being that big cyborg and Minnie for entirely different reasons, anyway she now had her eyes elsewhere so it was easy enough to give her goons the slip now.

Okay, focus, breathe in- one line of thinking at a time.
A chat with a man, when things were brought in and out it was easy enough to slip some things by and finally the last piece, technically the thing the two of them had been building was already complete but now it had its intended weapon. Roman looked it over, the sheen of a blade made for cutting not stabbing. Not his style, still handy. Real old, older than grandmas. He was frankly surprised it wasn't brittle.
But if it works, it works just remember: Don't stab, slice.

He loosened his tie, looking over the completed product. With its new collar it almost looked like a royal, Yeah that would do, pointdexter would let him bring anything along with a good enough excuse not that he gave much of a shit what he did. But that was for later. For now the handiwork was admired, keys were handed over and goodbyes were said. Hands went into pockets and he stepped out of the door, locking it behind.

Soon enough some DEI schmucks would find him, scold him for running off or something. Yadda yadda the usual.
Wasn't there somewhere to cool off here?
 
Nov 14, 2018
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#4
The jarring, but to some familiar, sight of a man in a full business suit in the arid heat would stick out to most people, let alone if that man had bionic features and a robotic, faceless helmet.

Sitting in the lobby of DEI's new facilities, Solomon took in the views, or rather the lack-there-of. 'Well, I can certainly tell how big of an impact our popularity is having on the institute's revenue," the tall cyborg mused somewhat sourly, the plastic seated, metal skeleton of a chair he sat in creaking as he shifted his weight. Staring out at the barren walls and spartan information desk by the entrance, Solomon thought to himself to have a word with Bertram about public appearances- which reminded him.

Pushing up the sleeve of his suit, Solomon looked down at his metal wrist as a small sheet shifted to reveal a digital clock. The producer huffed as he replaced his sleeve, the sound blending in with the soft hum of his cooling fans; he thought to himself to have a word about punctuality as well. Grabbing a dark gray brief case from a seat beside him, Solomon stood up and approached the front desk.

"Hello again. Sorry to be a bother but is Mr. Bertram available yet?"
 

GEAR

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#5
"Oh."

As Tilde pushed her way out of Bert's front door, her eyes fell briefly on Minerva. The tall, model-like woman thought for a moment to bend down and address the child (?), but a part of her - perhaps, seeing something deeper in those eyes, like the glint of the sun on the edge of a well-honed knife, knew better. Saying nothing, she let her gaze travel down the hallway to the collection of individuals that had assembled to see Bertram, as the man himself pushed through the door after her, blonde hair matted faintly against his forehead.

"I won't keep you any longer, Mister popular." She teased, giving a wave over her shoulder as she walked away, footsteps click-clack echoing down the hallway. Bert looked after her uncertainly, half-in and half-out of his office door, unable or unwilling to leave its relative cool, before his eyes finally fell on Minerva.

There was a short, awkward silence as he squinted, face scrunching up in the fashion of adults everywhere posed with the unexpected presence of a child.

"You, uh..." He mumbled, uncharacteristically unfocused.

"Want some ice cream?"

He opened the door to his office a little, letting the cool air waft out into the hallway. Behind him there appeared to be a miniature freezer churning away in its corner doggedly, doubtlessly hooked up to yet another cantankerous auxiliary generator in this desert hellhole.

"I got this, uh..." - His forehead furrowed with the unaccustomed effort of pronounciation; - "...booza, or whatever. Local kids said its good. Frankly, if it keeps me cool, I couldn't give two-"

In mid sentence pre-profanity, he seemed to suddenly remember Solomon was there, and jerked back to life, fully stepping aside to allow the two entrance to his lair, even as his eyes once again fell on Tilde's back, uncertainly.

"Solomon, just the man I was looking for. You wouldn't believe what just fell on my lap. Come on in."

What in the world have I gotten myself into this time?




"That's a nice Special you've got there."

The voice, playful and dulcet, sang through the air to meet the ears of Roman. Perched on the edge of his peripheral vision was another, unfamiliar machine, crouched like a gleaming, silvery ghoul in the corner of the compound's hastily assembled visitor's lot. The needle-like mouth and glowing, cycloptic eye had unsettled more than one of the locals, so someone had placed a dusty blue tarp across its face, leaving its pointy "ears" to jut out on either side.

Tilde Cortaine folded her arms as she approached the other Super Robot pilot, face betraying nothing but polite interest in the lumbering, scaly behemoth that now filled her vision. In all honesty, she thought, it looked like a museum piece, the clunky beastliness of its design certainly not quite helping its image... but, she wasn't so impolite as to bring that up, oh no. Some people got terribly defensive over these things.

"Terrans come up with such... unique designs."
 
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Hitura Rael

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#6
Minerva blinked slowly up at the woman from her slouched perch against the wall. A small part of her was satisfied that she scurried off. The woman was perceptive... or uncomfortable around her like most everyone else. Good. The last time she let someone not be uncomfortable she- ended up with Roman hanging around indefinitely honestly. But the time before THAT ended poorly so far. Ashley was probably angry enough to lump her in with Couch.

Minerva's eyes shifted from watching the woman go to Bertram. He seemed out of it, but there was always that little flinch from the crew having her around. She gave him a pleasant practiced hollow smile and a nod before standing to her full height and slipping into his office. Blessed cold air! Dry air, but all the air was dry in this hell hole of a country. She helped herself to the booza or whatever it was. Ice cream was ice cream as far as she was concerned. Whatever made this hellish heat more tolerable. And it was a perfect eavesdropping excuse. She settled on the floor in a corner with her frozen treat and glanced between the two men while nibbling at the frozen treat. Whatever it was that the woman gave him had to be good. Roman's employers were sure to be interested.
 

MKR

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#7
"You're telling me," the man responded "but between you and me your uh, bride bot over there looks a bit more funky." a sly smile came with the response as he took another step out, eyes keeping track of this unknown woman. A calm pace carried him further but he never made the mistake of letting the woman slip out of sigh as he turned to look at her as he stepped.

"But I get the feeling every machine here is just plain weird. I mean their ship is a floating lunchbox with a two by four sticking out." By now the Russian accent was evident, and he made no effort to hide it at all either. "Besides that you got yourself like half of a zodiac, some crazy scientists and heat stroke. So their machines being a bit out there makes sense."

He nudged towards the visitor's mech with his shoulder however.
"But that thing doesn't have that excuse unless you had it commissioned here and came to pick it up, in which case shame on these folks for making a machine that's 80 percent leg. But it doesn't seem like their style, not riot-y enough for that." By now he figured that this girl was a business partner, but he couldn't care about giving proper courtesy or what have you.

Instead a smile and some banter were on offer and he had ample supply.
"Mind indulging me, what's that bad boy called?"
 

Kujo

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Nov 14, 2018
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#8
Solomon, Briefcase in hand, walked down the hall. Time seemed to stop for him as the mysterious girl and the cyborg crossed paths in the middle of the walk. Auxiliary cameras in Solomon's helmet followed the stranger as he continued walking. Tilde had turned a corner by the time Solomon reached Bertram's office, and the man looked over his shoulder as he put a hand on the door frame. He stood there for a quiet moment before entering the office properly.

Solomon stopped as he placed a hand on a seat all too familiar to him at this point. His head turned a bit as he spotted a more substantial one and sidled over to it, placing his briefcase in the cheaper chair.

"Now, I believe you wanted to talk about something off about our equipment. I hope we haven't been pushing things too hard, or that there's some sort of warranty I wasn't made aware of," said Solomon, straightening his tie; the fans on his body slowly revved down as they adjusted to the cooled office.
 

GEAR

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#9
"Ascalon."

Tilde's eyes seemed to gleam for a moment as Roman regarded her steed. She darted forward, craning her head into his field of view, with the silver skull-faced Super in the background.

"A machine doesn't need to be glorious." She explained, wagging a finger in his face.

"If it's strong, people will talk about it as if it was beautiful. A knight in shining armor slays a dragon, so the sword they used must have been powerful, right?"

She held her hand up, as if cradling its distant, needle-mouthed features in her hands.

"To be virtuous, to be lustrous..." Continued the Colonist avidly;

"These are the products of strength. Ever since Cain and Abel, Romulus and Remus, we've searched for a way to kill one another that isn't just effective, but gorgeous. Isn't that strange?"

She paused in her dramatic twirling, bringing her hands to her chest as she look back at Roman again, talking softly, as though she were sharing some kind of secret.

"After all... Nobody writes about the magic swords that lost."




"Something like that." Grumbled Bertram as he reached his seat.

He fished under the desk, producing what appeared to be a plastic baggie of sorts, about the size of his torso. Putting on a pair of gloves, he rummaged around briefly inside - and then, with a distinct lack of flourish, dumped a fistful of its contents onto the desk in front of Solomon.

Glimmering green octagonal crystals spilled out, catching the light as they shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow - seemingly nothing more than microscopic chunks of Dimensional Energy Crystal, but were any of the occupants to place their hand over it, a curious, almost harmonic hum would have issued forth, tiny bolts of power crackling between the chips as Bert held one up for inspection, giving the man a suspicious look.

"Care to explain this to me?"
 
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MKR

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#10
Roman leaned against a wall as the woman began speaking about the thing, Ascalon. He raked his mind to figure out where the name came from as it wasn't entirely foreign to him but mythology and the like had never been his strong suit. In a sense he was lucky he could even write given his upbringing let alone handle machinery like the mecha present here.

A dragon? Ah right, Saint George. That was the one at least he knew some Christian stuff. All the same his eyes passed from the machine to her as she spoke. It didn't seem like she held it in particularly high regard all in all. At least, its name. Yet was reverent of the power it contained.
"Eh, I'm not so sure about that." He shrugged at last.

"The thing about strength it, as long as it is held by those seen as righteous it is beautiful. Otherwise its terrible and monstrous, Cain is demonized quite literally for his act." He didn't speak on the other pair because frankly he had no clue who 'Romulus' and 'Remus' were. "People don't revere the bastard just because he was the first to think about picking up a rock and applying it to someone else. It's Abel who is praised for being meek and dying without putting up a fight."

The Russian gazed over the machine casually, as if measuring it. Comparing and contrasting.
"I could go more in depth but I can prove my point in a single word."

He leaned towards her, a tale he had read about on this side. About strength demonic, a curse upon the soil of the Directory and a plague upon its image. The apex predator of the Colonist's bid for independence and the one machine not permitted to even be spoken of. But the Directory was dead and buried which left the word free.
"Valsion."

He leaned backwards against the wall. Letting it hang in the air, letting it choke the air itself.
"But I am not one to discuss what is beautiful and what is not, hell if people consider my strength beautiful they are fools. But that's just humans isn't it, we always look for the best ways to off one another in spite of ourselves." That one he borrowed from the bossman, he didn't really believe that it could be stopped but the bossman did so here he was.

"But is that something you want? To be considered beautiful because of your strength?"
 
Nov 14, 2018
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#11
Solomon's cameras zoomed in and examined the bag. "If you brought me here just to accuse the girls of... Oh, that stuff." The ex-mercenary's posture relaxed a bit. "Actually, I was meaning to talk to you about that. That stuff started showing up in the middle of our tour this year; kept jamming the medium dispensers and blocking the speakers." Solomon shrugged, a faint mechanical whine sounding out as his hands raised. "We were afraid to do anything with it in case it was DAMON related or something, but eventually we couldn't avoid chipping away at it. I didn't know what to do with it and it didn't seem to fit the DEC medium, but Kirya seems to like it; she's been dusting and decorating her room with the stuff."

Eyeing the minute crystals, Solomon leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Having brought that up, I assume you've got some ideas on it yourself," said the producer somewhat pointedly.
 

GEAR

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#12
"My "idea" is that it's costing me money."

Bert scowled as he took a handful of the things. Z-Chips, one of his staff had helpfully named them in absence of anything more cheerful. Where they were coming from, he wasn't certain. The notebook hadn't mentioned anything like this, and the damn things were getting into everything. It was only recently they had begun to manifest as well - so what was it he was doing wrong?

Obviously it couldn't be his fault, so by process of elimination, it had to be Solomon's.

"And another thing-"

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...but before Bert could finish, a kind of wave spread out from where his fingers had touched the "chips", causing him to pause. A pulse of the colors of the rainbow, shimmering bright, flickered through the pile on the desk - and almost as if in response, the lights overhead rattled - and died. The AC as well seemed to give up the ghost, as the crew were plunged into complete darkness, with only the natural light of the windows, and the glowing chips illuminating all their features.

Bertram could barely breathe. An energy pulse of that scale? From something so little? He returned his gaze to Solomon... and just nodded, gulping as he spoke hoarsely:

"...Bring us as many of these as you can."




"Please."

At the mention of the Valsion, Tilde raised her fingers and wriggled them in the air, as if in mock fright, giving him a coy smirk as he retreated. She folded her hands behind her back and leaned forward, as if chidingly.

"Nobody will call you beautiful, even if you're strong."

Her finger reached out, and gently tapped the end of his nose. The dragonslayer peered down the end of her own at him, giving a sigh of faux-melancholy.

"That's the curse of being a man."

Giving a small laugh, she was interrupted by a chirping at her wrist, causing her to glance at a screen only slightly concealed by her wrist. She gave Roman a wry shrug.

"That's about all the time I've got for today... But, think about what I said."

She shoved her hands in her coat pockets, and turned on her heel to leave - but not before calling over her shoulder as she made her way towards the silver, grinning behemoth that was her steed:

"After all... Some day you're going to have to read about me."​
 

Hitura Rael

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#13
Minerva set aside the frozen treat to get a closer look at these little crystals. She knew better than to touch them bare handed. Even Bertram had the good sense to put gloves on as he poked at it- And plunged the room into dark silence. She'd admit the output was pretty, but damnit! Now where was she going to go to get cooled off!? This place was going to kill her one day, she knew it.

However, in the silence, she couldn't help but express that disappointment. A hopeless look crossed her face, disappointment filling her voice. "You broke the air conditioner."
 

MKR

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#14
Roman snickered at the response, that woman sure thought she was important. Who knows maybe she was he couldn't care less if she was however. And what the curse of being a man? Weren't like 90% of important peoples actually recorded in history men? Sure nowadays things were different but it wasn't the opposite of then, really that woman was just a looney.

He amused himself with a thought, the reading material promised to him manifesting in his mind in the form of an obituary. "Today we bid farewell to some psycho" it read, she will be missed technically. Ah it almost brought a tear to his eye to imagine. Ah it almost brought a tear to his eye, the card would even have flower decorations and what not. But instead of vocalizing this he simply shrugged.
"Yeah yeah, sure." He replied.

Roman would walk off as well, "Now handsome however." he said mainly to himself on the way out of the hangar.