Just a legend, cold words on a page

[thatsit]

So far things had been going as well as could be expected, if not a little better. The hotel staff, well used to discretion as they were, had been adept at keeping an eye on matters. There had been some tense moments in the restaurant, if the waitstaff were to be believed, but they'd resolved themselves peacefully.

It was a good sign. Ila were the only clan to have come from outside Khamja, and their history with Skite had been less than amicable. Their inclusion was probably the biggest risk Ignis had taken with his recruiting, but when it had come down to it they needed powerful healers, and if they came accompanied by tough fighters then so be it. That they could control themselves, and that members of Khamja didn't feel the need to break into violence around them, was only a bonus.

Everyone had stayed within the hotel's confines for the day. Ignis had been glad of that. One or two had been less than pleased with the request, and some had been less pleased again regarding the issue of tags, but he was reasonably sure he'd managed to placate most of them.

He read over the notes he had for their itinerary while he waited for everyone to assemble in the conference room. He'd been up late last night trying to get a somewhat friendly member of the Kingsglaive assigned to the survivalist training, to no avail, and he'd been up early again this morning ensuring everything was in order for the swift processing and manufacture of the tags they'd require so their esteemed guests didn't have to remain confined to the hotel for too much longer. His third can of Ebony of the day sat half drunk by his chair. After so long on the lowerworld and rationing his supply to make it last he'd consumed enough in his first two days back in Insomnia to give himself the jitters, but he'd become accustomed to the caffeine once more rather quickly.

The conference room was one of the hotel's largest. A huge, oval table occupied the centre of the room, and a projector hung from the ceiling, directed to a huge blank wall where it could be used for presentations and displays. Ignis had no intention of using that, but he did prefer the table set up of the room. It would be interesting to see who chose to sit next to whom, for one.

Ignis took a drink from his can and cast his eye over his papers again. Weaponry, clothing, chocobos, food, potions, ethers, camp supplies, water, medical supplies, communication; they weren't going to be heading to Pulse quickly with a shopping list this long and involved, but at the very least the time could be useful. They needed to ensure everyone was capable of surviving in the event they became stranded with nothing.

It was just a pity they'd refused to give him Nyx for that purpose.

Comments

[cierva]

Apache decided she didn't particularly like Levi.

It wasn't that he was particularly unpleasant, it's just that he was blunt. She wasn't sure whether that stemmed from Ivalician being a second language, or just because that was how he spoke. She'd have to hear him in Jyllandi to decide, but either way, it didn't fill her with affection for the dour little midget.

Singling her out didn't help.

She reached into her pocket and tossed her own tags on the tabletop. They hit the lacquered wood with a metallic clatter. They were tarnished, lacking the shine buffed into Levi's, and showed her rank clearly enough.

"I'm from Nagapur," she said, looking at him, and Ignis. "I was ranked as being D/1, but they're out of date."

[innatelunacy]

Saix watched Apache throw her tags onto the table as if they were a bit of used and unwanted tissue. The idea of tags didn't bother him much; they were an inconvenience, but they didn't seem much different to licences.

He glanced at Grimmjow, a little irked that he was being asked to pick first out of the two of them. "Grimmjow and I are equally matched," he said, looking back at Levi, "but since that involves using abilities best kept out of highly populated areas, A5 may be a safer call." On the ranking system a dead average would be a B3. They were definitely stronger than the average Mistant, but it would be better if they didn't have to prove just how much stronger. "We can probably fight at that level without too much collateral damage, should the need arise," he added, looking back at Grimmjow for his agreement.

[tozasemurcielago]

Ulquiorra barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he was singled out. Of course he was being singled out, and it was for the same reason that he considered the whole issue of tagging him to be pointless. The fact he was a mist mutant was plain to see.

"A1," he answered, dully. He didn't bother to give a reason. It should be obvious enough to everyone else in the room. He was stronger than all but perhaps Lumi, Marluxia, and Even. The berserker was matched with Grimmjow, and thus no match for Ulquiorra. The fire elemental had provided more of a challenge, but Ulquiorra hadn't released the full extent of his power in that fight.

[declaregamuza]

Nel frowned when the subject of tags were brought up. She didn't like the idea of marking people with something as if they were a threat or a danger just because their skin was grey or their eyes were different colours. True, so the Arrancar were more dangerous than most, but it wasn't because they were mistants.

"I'll be A1 as well," she said, with a flicker of a humourless smile that she couldn't bring herself to keep in place. "Ulquiorra at his peak is probably stronger than me," she admitted quietly, "but our baselines are similar."

[thewingsoffreedom]

Levi listened, and nodded.

"Keep in mind that a lot of visible mutations are the furthest some Mistants go," he said. "If you can get away with a minor physical mutation, I don't see why you wouldn't, but that's your choice."

He looked at Apache then. She looked fairly normal, aside from the fact that her eyes didn't match. That put her pretty low at a glance, though her D/1 ranking suggested she had increased Chakra beyond what was considered a baseline for regular people. More serious physical mutations almost always came with higher than average power levels, though it wasn't for certain. They were just more obvious. A Mistant could either be physically changed, or changed in the Chakra. There was plenty of room for crossover, but it wasn't always the case.

The blue-haired elf guy seemed similar to the girl, and could easily pass for 'minor physical alternation' without any extras, but he was obviously embroiled in some kind of pissing contest with the other blue-haired guy, who could pass for non-mistant if he wanted to. He clearly didn't want to, if his nod of agreement was anything to go by.

"I'm not going to tell you what to choose," he said, with a shrug. "Because I don't really care. But since you're not legally obligated to to declare everything, you can just go for physical abnormalities if you want. If you don't have any of those, but still want a tag, you can go for a more or less accurate power level, but it is best to go for the baseline, as you said, because if you have to really get going to hit the peak, you're going to get noticed and probably can't pull it off in a pinch should somebody make an effort to fuck with you."

He looked at Nel, not able to see anything fundamentally wrong with her appearance. She looked normal enough, but that didn't mean she couldn't sprout wings, or turn herself purple, or whatever else people could do. She admitted to probably being around the same as the Ulquiorra, who Levi figured was the grey kid. Power only then, probably.

Somebody could just have odd eyes, or be virtually normal to look at but off the charts when it came to Chakra reserves or raw power.

He grabbed his own tags and held them out by the chain. "I'm A/0," he said, speaking his rank aloud for those who couldn't see his designation on the metal. "Who here do you," he indicated the ones he'd asked, and who'd answered, with a look, "consider the most powerful Mistant at this table?"

Levi couldn't tell who they would pick out. They all did a good job of suppressing their Chakra, to the point where picking out individual ones was like trying to separate one whisper in a crowd of whispers. Nobody obviously stood out and he couldn't be certain who was and wasn't a Mistant at a glance anyway.

He might go for the grey kid, just because of what the green-haired woman said. He was stronger at his peak than her. And sue him, he was going to pick the one with the most serious mutation regardless. Hange would probably call it internalised mistantphobia or some such bullshit.