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spira_rp2018-10-07 05:22 pm
intangibleman) wrote in spira_rp2018-10-07 05:22 pm
Entry tags:
Killers everywhere, it ain't no place to run.
The Desert Palace, all in all, wasn't such a bad place.
Tyki rather liked it. It was almost lively under the near funereal, subdued air. There might have been a fog hanging over everything, the heavy weight of a member missing, but underneath that was a subtle layer of anticipation, a mountain-stream burble of excitement at what the meeting might hold. For those normally resident, the reaction to strangers was mixed. Some approached the situation with their heads held high, giving no indication one way or another how they felt about the sudden intrusion. Others seemed nervous, the unknown quantities enough to frighten them, not that they broadcasted it. For the minions, there seemed to be a novelty to it. It almost seemed to take the edge off the fear the Arrancar were harbouring.
Almost.
Neliel, however, apparently Sosuke Aizen's biggest fan, seemed positively mired in it. There were moments when she came out of herself a little, but it was obvious that he was on her mind. Him, or her precarious position.
The young girl Road had taken to seemed less concerned, but it was possible she didn't understand the gravity of her situation. The short man with the pet Malboro covered whatever worries he had with a bright veneer of smirking sarcasm, but Tyki could practically smell the fear on him. The lanky Tag with the attitude problem didn't give anything away, instead choosing to sneer one-eyed at everybody, teeth grit and bared like an animal caged, as though he didn't care whether he lived or died so long as he got to sink his teeth into somebody. It was possible this was the case, but Tyki had rarely seen somebody who didn't care when it came down to it. Perhaps he'd get to see his real feelings on the matter after the meeting's conclusion. That might be fun.
The others hadn't presented themselves for inspection.
Tyki found himself enjoying it all. Road was keeping an eye on things, doing her best impression of a precocious young girl there under Tyki's watchful eye, but the reverse was probably more true. She knew more than he did, about everything. It was her who told him what would become of the Arrancar if things went south, her who told him about the members he had never heard of, who he'd never bothered to read the backgrounds of. He simply watched and enjoyed.
What had surprised him was that the majority of the members present and, indeed, those expected, were natives of their own floating continent, and not Ivalice. Some of the residents were certainly lowerworlders, but all of the visitors seemed to come from Niflheim, Lucis or the Jyllandi Union. Was it merely a trip for them, a chance for the to size each other up on neutral ground, with Aizen's imprisonment serving as little more than window dressing? That was possible. None of the had any real personal investment in the man, nor his continued safety, or that of his underlings. He suspected Kreeth was simply there for the holiday.
There hadn't been any newcomers for a few days. The last had been the two from the Union and before those, the Lucian envoys, apparent nobodies there in the stead of somebody important. It was probably fortunate the absent lowerworlders didn't send the same in their places, or the palace would run the risk of being standing room only, with underlings turfed out of their rooms to house the temporarily higher-ranked dogs of members. Road said they were still waiting on a woman from Reseune, a town that bordered the two major halves of the Niflheim Empire, and some mid-tier noble from Nagapur who Road, all full of childlike delight, was expecting to kick off at some point during her stay.
There had been some arrivals last night, but they'd come in without fanfare, or announcement. They felt familiar, so Tyki assumed they were residential minions, gone and returned. He'd soon find out, anyway. He'd left his hat and cane in his room, but still made sure to dress nicely. His white side wasn't welcome in such a place, and the black was far, far classier. He found himself gravitating to the kitchen without effort and he was almost surprised how quick such a thing had happened. Perhaps that was how the palace got you.
He pushed open the door.
"Good morning," he said.
Tyki rather liked it. It was almost lively under the near funereal, subdued air. There might have been a fog hanging over everything, the heavy weight of a member missing, but underneath that was a subtle layer of anticipation, a mountain-stream burble of excitement at what the meeting might hold. For those normally resident, the reaction to strangers was mixed. Some approached the situation with their heads held high, giving no indication one way or another how they felt about the sudden intrusion. Others seemed nervous, the unknown quantities enough to frighten them, not that they broadcasted it. For the minions, there seemed to be a novelty to it. It almost seemed to take the edge off the fear the Arrancar were harbouring.
Almost.
Neliel, however, apparently Sosuke Aizen's biggest fan, seemed positively mired in it. There were moments when she came out of herself a little, but it was obvious that he was on her mind. Him, or her precarious position.
The young girl Road had taken to seemed less concerned, but it was possible she didn't understand the gravity of her situation. The short man with the pet Malboro covered whatever worries he had with a bright veneer of smirking sarcasm, but Tyki could practically smell the fear on him. The lanky Tag with the attitude problem didn't give anything away, instead choosing to sneer one-eyed at everybody, teeth grit and bared like an animal caged, as though he didn't care whether he lived or died so long as he got to sink his teeth into somebody. It was possible this was the case, but Tyki had rarely seen somebody who didn't care when it came down to it. Perhaps he'd get to see his real feelings on the matter after the meeting's conclusion. That might be fun.
The others hadn't presented themselves for inspection.
Tyki found himself enjoying it all. Road was keeping an eye on things, doing her best impression of a precocious young girl there under Tyki's watchful eye, but the reverse was probably more true. She knew more than he did, about everything. It was her who told him what would become of the Arrancar if things went south, her who told him about the members he had never heard of, who he'd never bothered to read the backgrounds of. He simply watched and enjoyed.
What had surprised him was that the majority of the members present and, indeed, those expected, were natives of their own floating continent, and not Ivalice. Some of the residents were certainly lowerworlders, but all of the visitors seemed to come from Niflheim, Lucis or the Jyllandi Union. Was it merely a trip for them, a chance for the to size each other up on neutral ground, with Aizen's imprisonment serving as little more than window dressing? That was possible. None of the had any real personal investment in the man, nor his continued safety, or that of his underlings. He suspected Kreeth was simply there for the holiday.
There hadn't been any newcomers for a few days. The last had been the two from the Union and before those, the Lucian envoys, apparent nobodies there in the stead of somebody important. It was probably fortunate the absent lowerworlders didn't send the same in their places, or the palace would run the risk of being standing room only, with underlings turfed out of their rooms to house the temporarily higher-ranked dogs of members. Road said they were still waiting on a woman from Reseune, a town that bordered the two major halves of the Niflheim Empire, and some mid-tier noble from Nagapur who Road, all full of childlike delight, was expecting to kick off at some point during her stay.
There had been some arrivals last night, but they'd come in without fanfare, or announcement. They felt familiar, so Tyki assumed they were residential minions, gone and returned. He'd soon find out, anyway. He'd left his hat and cane in his room, but still made sure to dress nicely. His white side wasn't welcome in such a place, and the black was far, far classier. He found himself gravitating to the kitchen without effort and he was almost surprised how quick such a thing had happened. Perhaps that was how the palace got you.
He pushed open the door.
"Good morning," he said.
no subject
And a scientist, at that. Fascinating.
There was just one question. "What's a Tag?"
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It was the one major difference between the continents, besides the language.
Hers were in her room, in her belongings. They were in a bag, screwed up and stowed in a box, with a key, in her wardrobe.
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They, he said. Before being taken into the Noah Clan, after spending enough years living rough on the streets of Undelwalt, that would have been 'we'. Fortunately for him, he made enough of a fuss out there to be picked up by those who shared his genetic mutation, and so he was raised in relative comfort, without the tags that had been hung on his neck from childhood.
It was pretty liberating, being able to walk around, looking like he did, without having to wear a tag. The Noah weren't the only ones who enjoyed the benefit of not needing to wear a tag when they looked or behaved very differently to the rest of the population. The von Überwalds, de Magpyrs and others also had the same freedom from limiting trinkets.
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"Why?" she asked, looking at Tyki with open disgust and bafflement. Was being a mistant not inviting enough bullshit, Jylland felt the need to clearly label everyone the normal folk should despise.
And then there was Apache, who was Jyllandi and had never mentioned the tag thing. No wonder; she probably had one herself.
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He looked over his shoulder towards Nel. "Ivalice has licences, Eos, or Jylland, does not."
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"Just think," he said,as the kettle flicked off, "we could tell Nnoitra that he'd get an identity card with his strength level on it comparable to others if he went to Jylland. He'd never come back."
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It wasn't fair, really. It also didn't make much sense to her. People like Aizen, terrifyingly powerful people, wouldn't be expected to wear a tag, but Wonderweiss, all but normal if not for his Hollow and his pink eyes, would be tagged so people knew he was dangerous. It was a backwards system of identification, something that groups had been lobbying to can for decades.
Szayel wasn't wrong about Nnoitra, though. Tags were traditionally reviled, often treated as outsiders restricted to menial work, though they were becoming more and more accepted as the years went on, but that didn't mean there wasn't good money to be made as one. She thought of the Totomostro, in Altissia, that allowed Tags to get into the ring with each other, or monsters, and prove their mettle against strong opponents. Nnoitra might not like the scorn wearing the collar brought him, but he'd not turn his nose up at showing off in battle for money. They did pretty well out of it, there.
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"It's ... an old law," he said, giving a shrug. "But still a law. Some people are trying to get an end put to it, though as many others are trying to make it so that everybody out of the ordinary is tagged, including people like me."
That wouldn't go down well, but it didn't stop people demanding it. To a lot of people, it didn't matter if you were the first or the tenth generation of people with the taint of Mist, you weren't normal and shouldn't be mixing with the general population. Mudbloods, some of the called them. Dirty blood. Those with the filth of the Mist in them, ruining and warping them, physically and magically. Some of the proper purity maniacs, like the Blacks, Malfoys, Lestranges and Carrows of Nagapur, had called for complete segregation, but they were considered extremists even by those who wanted tighter restrictions on Tags. He didn't fancy their chances of putting a collar on a von Überwald, though it could be fun to watch.
Überwald had been traditionally lax on tagging anyway. With the amount of Mist in the region, and the number of backwoods and small towns and villages out there in the region, many of those afflicted never travelled and never received tags. With Überwald's recent inclusion in the Niflheim Empire, some of their officials were trying to get them rolled out en masse to those who should be registered, but it was taking time and a lot of manpower. Funnily enough, the more men they sent out there, the less manpower they seemed to have. And less men, too.
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"If that were to happen," he said, "everyone in possession of a kekkei genkai would be subject to tagging." He smiled, wryly, "Including the Lucian royal family." And by extension, himself. Needless to say, Lucis's independence came in useful; as a sovereign state they could ignore such decisions of they were made by the Jyllandi Union.
Although it would still have some political ramifications.
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Any system that would have slapped a 'danger, mistant' banner on someone like Ulquiorra because he was grey that didn't bother to slap anything on someone like Aizen even though one bad mood could see him raze a city, seemed to have gone fundamentally wrong.
She looked back at Apache again. She'd never mentioned it, and it seemed pretty clear why.
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He thought back. More of the submissions for the Arrancar project might have survived if they'd borne tags from the beginning. The correlation between successful Arrancar subjects and mistants would have been obvious from the start.
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She paused, looking at him for a moment, taking in his pink hair and ridiculous yellow eyes, and shrugged.
"Though they might find you interesting anyway, I doubt they see many Selkies up there."
She knew they didn't see many Selkies up there. Being the result of an Al Bhed and Hume parent, Selkies were virtually never seen on Jylland, except as a rarity, because there were very few Al Bhed there to produce them. She expected some had travelled and settled, but they would still be considered unusual by the general population. She didn't remember seeing many when she was growing up.
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Might. There were enough people in Niflheim that liked the idea of tags that it would be difficult to pull the idea off the table, especially since it had been in use for longer than the enmity between the Union and Empire had been going on. Lucis, on the other hand, had only adopted it after dropping their isolationist policies, but if Tyki remembered right, them adopting the Tag law had been one of the conditions of an alliance with the Union in the first place.
He wouldn't mind having to wear a tag again all that much. He still required another form of ID to point out his Kekkei Genkai, since going about grey and looking like a Tag, while being unmarked, was a good way to end up dragged to a police station having your information run through a system. Maybe it would be easier. Besides, Tags weren't all bad. Sometimes a touch of something exotic made things more fun.
He finished his cigarette and flicked it away, closing the door behind him and moving back into the kitchen proper.
"It would be nice if we could have Licenses instead," he said. "Other than for having to travel down here, I mean."
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Szayel's chakra didn't exactly stand out, but if he was an Arrancar he was one of Aizen's underlings, so he had to have some uses. From the way he spoke, it sounded like he was a scientist himself.
"Unfortunately," he added, "I don't think we'd fit you in our ship." Mores the pity, of course.
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He smirked as he turned to make his coffee. It was instant, the usual type kept in the kitchen, but only because that was quicker. Anyone that had it in them to go through the rigmarole of making coffee the long way before their first cup was an inhyur monster.
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She gave an agreeing hum to Tyki's statement. "I definitely prefer having a license," she agreed. "Guess I'll be giving Jylland a wide berth." She definitely didn't want to be fitted up for a tag detailing her weirdness.
"You had to get a license to come here?" she asked. Having to apply for that might explain why a handful of Jyllandi members were coming. Maybe they were the people that already had one. It would certainly explain why someone from Jylland might send an envoy, like Ignis, instead of attending themselves, if they didn't want to leave a paper trail.
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Well, he didn't. They'd travelled by illicit means, on the back of a Hollow, in the way Hollows moved between the Seen and Unseen realms, but if they wanted to have a look at Ivalice during their time down there, they'd probably need a License. Apparently even hotels required ID. Besides, the Earl had insisted.
He pulled it out of his inside pocket, on the opposite side to where he stowed his matches and silver cigarette case. He held it out to Nel between two fingers. It was new, clearly recently issued. The Licenses of native Ivalicians tended to be worn, with the leather softened and showing the time their owners had had them. They were issued at birth, changed magically to update content when required, assuming they were kept up to date. They didn't have to be, the important information was always the same.
It looked similar to an Ivalician issued License, probably on account of a lowerworld company being the one who issued them up there, albeit through a foreign branch. It was a different colour, however. They varied by country, to show nationality at a glance, but often the differences on the front were too subtle to tell. The backs had the seal of their country on them. His was dark grey on the face, with the emblems of Ueltham and Überwald party per pale on the back. It listed his name as Tyki Mikk, not Kamelot, and his birthdate, curiously, as the 25th of Violembre/Plumfrost, as opposed to just showing the Ivalician month. His hometown was listed as Undelwalt, though that wouldn't mean much to a foreigner.
"Apparently the rules down here state that if you wish to participate in society, you must do so as a License holder," he said, sounding very much like he was repeating back something he'd read, or been told, at an earlier date. It sounded far too formal for his grasp of Ivalician.
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Personally. Out of her own pocket. Szayel would be a sight to see on Jylland, that was for certain. Pink haired, tall and skinny, with orange eyes and the worst glasses this side of a dodgy fashion magazine where bubble wrap was considered an acceptable material for clothing, he'd certainly attract a gaze or two. Hopefully from a hungry monster.
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She gave a short laugh and a nod at Tyki's words, though. He sounded like he'd been on the receiving end of a civics lecture, and been told to memorise it because there'd be a test later. It sounded like something Ignis would say.
"Yeah, they're all purpose ID here. It's your travel ID, pilot's license, weapons permit," since it was kept up to date with a persons's classes as well as every other possible detail about their life the ones that used their classes tended to get more dog-eared than most citizens'. "Mine doesn't look that new any more," she added, but didn't pull it out to show, "I don't think it ever looked that new."
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"Unfortunately," he said, "the storage space within the car is accounted for." He paused for effect before suggesting, "I suppose we could tie him to the roof?"
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He stirred his coffee and cradled his cup, throwing a haughty glance in Ignis and Apache's direction. "If you two could stop flirting before I've had my coffee," he sniped, "I'd appreciate it. You're going to ruin my appetite."
no subject
Sure, so conversation in this case involved being silly and plotting ways to get rid of Szayel, but what could you do. It was just funny. Until she registered what Ignis said, and looked puzzled.
"Car..?"
There had been a car in the hangar. She hadn't thought about it much, it looked old fancy, but definitely a four-wheeled ground vehicle. Tired as she was, she hadn't considered how they'd have got it there. Over desert or through the caverns..?
"Oh... yeah, how did you get that here?"
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"Quite useful," he said. "Weapons aren't restricted in Niflheim and pilot and driving licenses are a separate thing."
He didn't need the anyway. He couldn't fly anything.
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It wasn't his car, it was on loan from the Crown, but he did wish it was his car. Lucis had been behind the curve in terms of airship technology, but what they lacked in genuine technological advancement they made up for in style. "Don't be taken in by its appearance," he said, masking his glee about the Regalia poorly, "it is, in fact, an airship as well as a roadworthy vehicle."
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She would have to ask Apache about that later. "A bit different down here, then," she said. Better, too, she hoped, or at least for Apache. Tyki obviously didn't have to deal with the tag business, so maybe he found a license restricting.
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