2014-06-02 - Reunion

Priscilla had somehow managed to convince Hadrian to take her out on a 'date'. Emp was off playing doting father to his new toy-- child. Kara. From what Charis had heard before the short Kheran lord had left with the child (and Warblade and Maul in bodyguard guise) in tow, there were going to be ferris wheels and cotton candy and possibly a giant unicorn involved.
Apparently 'Jacob Marlowe' could play the doting father fairly well. The universe knows Reno and Jeremy were certainly playing the older-brother roles more than sufficiently.
That /had/ left Charis alone with Cole and lady Zannah, but apparently they were more 'on-again' than 'off-again' in their entire 'it's complicated' relationship, so instead of a spar (which Nemesis would have much preferred to sitting alone in the rec room watching the current brain-numbing sitcom that was blaring from the television) those two disappeared for private time that would likely end in structure damage.
Oh well. Emp will deal with them when he gets back, as far as Charis was concerned. She stretches out on the couch, letting out a bored sigh as the laugh track roars through the speakers. She considers wandering up to the monitor room, but really, to what end? Yohn-- Hadrian-- admitted to Charis before he left that he was keeping an eye on the place while he was out. Charis didn't envy him what would happen to him if Voodoo found out...
Majestros of Khera has been away from Earth for several months. Unsurprisingly, none of the WildCATs found this at all amiss, as he's gone years with minimal communication in the past. Initially it was just to divert an asteroid that was headed for an extinction-level event on Earth in 326 years. But while he was out in the Oort Cloud, he noticed something out of place in terms of the starfield, so he figured he'd investigate. And so Majestros found himself a "guest" of a place called Warworld for a while, and while the full details of that tale may one day be told, suffice to say it's headed -away- from Earth for the time being now, and a certain despot named Mongul will be a long time in recovering from his injuries, if his son doesn't kill him and take his throne in the interim.
Majestros himself looks none the worse for wear when he arrives at his old Mt. Rushmore headquarters, now converted to the use of a team rather than just the single Kheran Warlord. There's no announcements, no alarms...it's his place, after all. Though those finely honed Coda senses are likely to notice the presence of someone else entering the living room. Not that he didn't sense her here almost as soon as he arrived, but he makes no effort to ambush her, largely because well...the situation isn't adding up neatly, and so Majestros wants to do the math.
"Given that Cash and Zannah are rutting in the hangar, and you're not lying in pieces on the floor, I'm going to allow for just enough benefit of the doubt that I won't immediately kill you. You had, however, best make your explanation a good one."
Well, this is a sticky situation.
Given than Emp's orders regarding the data she had brought back proving her innocence was, quite literally 'No one is to tell Majestros these details. That means you, Cole'; Charis is, momentarily, at a loss as to how to explain... things.
All of the mental preparation she had made for this moment had flown, anyway, the moment he spoke. Too much time among the humans and their flighty ways and mercurial emotions.
Still, she languidly sits up from her lounging as if there was absolutely nothing dangerous about the man standing in the middle of the rec room. And she keeps a very tight lid on reaching out to feel what he's feeling-- it's akin to someone keeping their eyes closed as to not see things. She doesn't want to know if what she suspects is true anyway.
She tilts her head, and says finally, "I wasn't the traitor. I'd show you the proof I brought back for Emp, but he took it out to purchase a unicorn."
All right, perhaps flippancy isn't the best idea at this point. She knows it. But she almost couldn't help it. "It was Raven. He's working with Helspont. Since before we crashed here, actually. He and his followers sabotaged the ship." No mention of... other things. She knows better, even without Marlowe's decree.
Majestros lifts a hand to the side of his half-cowl, apparently receiving a message. Whatever it is, his stone-cold expression does not waver, but he nods imperceptibly, "Hadrian and Emp verify your story." He lowers his hand, simply...looking at her for a few moments, silent. Underneath that icy exterior could be a hurricane, but he'd never allow it to show. Always in control. Well...-almost- always. That silence simply reigns for several moments. Awkward? You bet. Not that Majestros seems to notice, maintaining his usual rigid posture and stoic countenance.
"Very well, I will be in the laboratory."
Did we mention he's not really one for small talk?
Charis lifts an eyebrow. All right, so he's never been the most personable of men, but normally he's not a stone.
Though, to be fair, the last time they had any sort of actual conversation was over three thousand years prior, when he still had a living son, and when (despite some of the occasional awkwardness of all their previous... but that was so long ago...) they were allies without any doubt where the other stood.
She takes the reins off her empathy for a few moments, while she asks him, "Mind if I join you? It's not like I'm doing anything here." She idly gestures to the sitcom.
Did we mention there could be a hurricane under there? Because that's what Charis is likely to get hit with the emotional wallop of when she reaches out. Anger, relief, confusion, clarity, and even, underlying it all and simply spurring more of that anger...a rather stinging pang of...shame. It is, perhaps fortunate, that for all of Majestros' amazing sensory abilities, the ability to tell if Charis is reading his emotions is not among them.
Still, even without the empathy, her question does garner a stronger reaction from him. It's not quite a flinch, but the ever-so-subtle shift of his expression towards the barest hint of a puzzled frown is likely the equivalent of a breakdown on a normal person, made all the more apparent when his words show a rare sign of hesitation, "I..."
He glances to her then, that glimmer of a frown still in place...
"I don't know."
Which is, quite possibly, a powerful admission from the oft-unflappable Warlord.
As much as the depth and myriad of emotion that hits her is, it's almost a relief-- he wasn't a stone after all, the intervening years hadn't completely--
"What's the worst that could happen?" Charis asks, her tone neutral but edging on friendly. She's long trained at hiding her 'reads' on people, though the sudden jump of pulse rate probably doesn't go missed by Majestros, no matter how nonchalant she manages to sound.
"You're reading me." Majestros says flatly, shaking his head slightly, "The worst? I think we've already seen the -last- three thousand years." He allows himself to frown more deeply now. Little sense maintaining the facade, "I...if this is all true. I've...wronged you. Immensely. And I see no easy means of making proper amends."
Charis shrugs. Flippancy would be easy here. But she opts for the moment to keep her mouth shut.
Though she doesn't cease reading him, of course. She settles into a relaxed standing position, though one that she can move from easily, if needed. Not that she expects to need it, but then again, she'd been on her own for a long time now... being prepared for tenative alliances to explode dangerously was something she was all too used to.
After a few moments of silence, she finally says, "I figure we're even."
"What?" Majestros looks both surprised and confused at that, "I...do not follow your reasoning." Which is an understatement. "I've spent the last three millennia trying to kill you. We pushed you away. Believed the worst. -I- believed the worst. I pushed my instinct and my emotion aside and arrived at the conclusions the raw data of my senses drew me to. There was not a doubt in my mind. And yet...here you stand, and Zannah of all people has seen fit to spare you. If your story were not true...she would never so much as contemplate mercy." Of course, Majestros had just completely shut down anything remotely approaching emotion at the time, given that his son had just perished. But "mitigating circumstance" isn't something that often enters Majestros' vocabulary.
Charis takes a step towards him, crossing her arms across her chest-- not quite defensively, especially with the vaguely amused look tugging at her lips.
"You're going to tell me that for the past three thousand years you took your best shot at killing me, and I just was that good at getting away?" she asks. "Huh. I suppose that vaunted High Warlord status isn't all it's cracked up to be, if someone like me could squeak away without a scratch."
Then she has the audacity to wink at him. Her tone had been light-- purposefully so, of course, but still.
Majestros opens his mouth, then closes it. She has a point. If he were REALLY trying. If he REALLY wanted her dead...she would have been vaporized 3000 years ago. Kherubim may fare poorly at applying such things, primarily because they have such difficulty admitting fault in themselves, but psychology isn't unknown to them. When he finally does speak, it's more with a grumbly sort of annoyance, "Even now, you joke."
The benefit of being a 'lesser' Kherubim, it seems. Charis gives him a bit of a grin. "You used to not mind," she points out. "Well, most of the time," she allows.
"So, what's in the lab?" she asks, turning slightly in that direction.
"No." Majestros shakes his head, lifting a hand, "I...need time. To think on this. To speak with Emp and Hadrian and Zannah." He takes in a deep breath, "To think -clearly-, and you are among the few who have often been able to distract me from that capability." Often, but not -always-. Much to her chagrin.
That admission seems to startle her a bit, though it really shouldn't have. She knows it, she's known that for several thousand years now. Still... it's been a long time since she's heard him even come close to speaking of that sort of thing.
"...I see." She forces a grin to her lips, then drops back onto the couch, propping her feet up on the cushions. "Well, in that case, I should get back to watching--" she pauses, looking at the screen. "...whatever this is. It never ceases to amaze me what passes for entertainment on this planet." Though she is at least delivering that far more lightly than other Khernas might.
"Insipid fodder designed to pacify the masses, in most cases." Majestros comments almost absently, his thoughts already elsewhere. Well, certainly on maters pertinent to their prior conversation, but he's keeping his own counsel on it for now. "We get over ten thousand channels of programming here. Wading through the garbage to find the rare gem may be enough to last you the next century or so, but it should be possible." That was...almost a joke. Or as close as Majestros ever gets to one. "I will..." A brief pause, "I will speak with you again. Soon." And with that, he moves off in the direction of the labs, for once at normal human speeds. The familiar voice of Cole Cash can be heard down the hallway as Majestros disappears from view:
"Oh uh...hey big guy, guess you probably saw your girlfr-"
"Cole..."
"Right, shutting up now."
Category:Historical Log