Tessa and Trowa - backdated
Oct. 2nd, 2017 09:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainTessa takes Trowa into Salem Center for practice on blending in. Trowa orders a muffin and is mostly successful.
Main Street at Salem Center was as busy as one would expect for lunchtime on a weekend. And the weather was doing nothing to keep people indoors; it was bright and sunny with the first crisp hints of fall in the air.
The noise and traffic didn't bother Trowa very much (though he would have felt more at ease with, at the least, a pistol under his jacket), but he didn't understand why they were out here either.
He looked over at Tessa.
"What did you want to show me?"
"Our reason for this outing is twofold," she told him, walking at his side in a dark, lightweight coat that reached to just above her knees, her hands casually tucked into her pockets. "First, endless patrols and assessment of the school's strengths and weaknesses as a defensive point can only continue so long before we reach the limits of what is possible--to say nothing of allowable. Acquainting ourselves with the environment beyond the school is a logical extension of our overall strategy."
Dark eyes studied the other pedestrians crossing back and forth along the maze of intersecting sidewalks and narrow suburban streets. It was strange, to be among so many people again--just another anonymous face in the amorphous crowd--but not entirely unfamiliar. "Second, we wish to broaden your familiarity with the prevailing social norms of this region, to hasten your assimilation into the school community. This sort of setting is precisely what many of the other students would have considered normal, prior to the manifestation of their abilities. Learning their baseline and gaining an appreciation for how far it diverges from our own will, I think, be useful. For us both."
"Hn." Trowa cast his gaze dubiously over their surroundings. He'd have felt more "normal" in his old jacket, but it had been deemed conspicuous. "For infiltration purposes, you mean?"
"Ease of infiltration is one consideration," Tessa acknowledged. "But it is of secondary importance. I think the Professor's objective is to make it easier for us to relate to and interact with our peer group. At the moment, we are viewed as anomalies." And, for her part, the psion did wish to learn these things. She would not reject any potentially useful data she encountered. To actually live it, though ... she was not certain she could understand why that should be a desirable thing. At least, not with the present facts at her disposal.
"We are anomalies," Trowa pointed out. "Our experiences set us apart from the others. That doesn't mean we're not assets." He followed a half-step behind Tessa, watching their backs.
"Assets, yes." She noted his position, and the vantage he had adopted. It was not necessary, given that her native abilities granted her a situational awareness far that far exceeded normal human potential. Yet it was more familiar to both of them ... and she could not discount the possibility Trowa might detect something she had overlooked. "But not relatable. Not trusted. Coordinated action is not possible without trust."
"Hn." Trowa pushed his hands into his pockets. "I'm trying to learn. But it seems hypocritical. We take refuge because we are different. Because the world doesn't trust strange creatures like us. But the others will distrust us because we are a different kind of strange to them."
"It is contradictory," Tessa agreed. She had not failed to notice that disjunction, both where her familiarity with violence and her telepathic abilities were concerned. "But we are not, for the most part, dealing with mature, experienced perspectives. They have been, in large part, protected, where we were obliged to adapt to our environments for the sake of survival. It is not equitable, but it nevertheless falls to us to demonstrate that we are to be trusted." The cyberpath stopped abruptly, trusting Trowa would not be thrown, and turned to face a corner cafe.
"Coffee?" she offered. "It is weaker than what I am used to, but not unpalatable." Unlike that which was served in the cafeteria.
"I doubt they have sujuk," Trowa said. "But I will take a coffee."
He eyed the cafe warily as they stepped inside. He'd rarely been in places like this when his mercenary company had gone into towns. They were too loud. Too hard to keep an eye on the exits, the comings and goings. Too hard to watch his back. But Tessa was here. He had two sets of eyes watching his back, and entirely in the reassuring way. Maybe it would be all right to try and blend in here.
Old habits were difficult to overcome--particularly when they served a practical function. As such, although Tessa was aware that she was unlikely to be in any danger under such a setting, she nevertheless studied the other patrons with a practiced eye, noting front and rear means of entrance and egress, the large front windows, and any nearby furniture that might serve to shatter the same, in an emergency. Still, her face was stoic as she approached the counter. Once their turn came, she said, "Turkish coffee." It was not an offering typical of cafes in this area, but this one appeared to have made it a signature conceit, of sorts.
The cyberpath turned to Trowa and beckoned him toward the barista with a hand, inviting him to order.
The array of choices was staggering in and of itself. Even if the meaning of everything on the menu board had been perfectly clear, simply having so many things to choose from would have left him rooted to the floor. And that, he was sure, would draw attention. Which was the exact opposite of their mission, wasn't it?
"Turkish coffee," he said. "And a muffin." Better not to make it seem he was mirroring Tessa exactly. Muffins seemed ubiquitous enough in the cafeteria breakfast. And he could see several in the pastry case.
The young man behind the counter smiled, but the expression held an edge of impatience.
"Blueberry, raspberry, chocolate-cherry, chocolate chip, lemon poppyseed, caramel dream, pumpkin spice, jalapeno cornbread, cream cheese and raspberry, orange cranberry, or bran?"
Damn it.
"The first one."
"And a bran muffin for me," Tessa added. Her tone was more ... casual than usual, though more an imitation of what she heard at the school than anything spontaneously arising from within herself. Once they had paid for their purchases, she directed Trowa toward a small table in one corner, flanking one of the large windows so they could study the pedestrian traffic of Salem Centre--and keep the rest of the cafe under surveillance. "They will alert us when the coffees are prepared," she told him.
"You did well," she said. "The specificity is usually more helpful, in such a situation. Even if you have no particular preference, seeming to have one will put the minds of others at ease."
Trowa nodded. "I haven't been in places like this often. And this one seems especially excessive when it comes to choice."
"It is," Tessa agreed readily. "But in a setting like this, where the basic needs of the majority have been met and conflict is largely limited to the interpersonal scale, an establishment of this kind must set itself apart in order to remain economically viable. The most common strategy typically entails making a variety of offerings, and varying available goods from those of competing eateries."
Trowa fell silent for a time, watching the traffic past the window. "It was simpler with my company," he said quietly. "I never had to make decisions unless I was in battle. Sometimes, not even then."
Her eyes turned from the people moving about their unknown errands outside back to the boy across from her. Tessa could certainly understand the appeal of that sort of simplicity. And, while she did think that the Institute would ultimately prove a positive environment for Trowa, she also did not want him to feel as though his options were limited. "I could," she suggested carefully, "find you another company. Create the necessary credentials, in time. If you wished." She would have considered the loss sub-optimal from a practical standpoint, and disappointing from a personal one, but she also understood the unfairness of what was being asked of him. Trowa was being asked to bury the very skills that would be so essential, in the time to come, for the sake of maintaining a pretense of undisturbed normalcy. If he found the situation untenable, she could not blame him.
"No." Trowa picked at the crust of sugar topping the muffin. "I'm not that weak. Xavier's mission is my mission now. And I did not travel all this way just to turn around before I've seen anything of this place but the walls and grounds of one school. But it is still difficult."
The refusal was no louder than his usual tones, but from Trowa, this was practically an outburst.
Tessa bowed her head slightly. "My apologies. I only wanted you to know the option was available." Her face turned toward the counter as their number was called. "Excuse me. I will retrieve our coffee."
Trowa hadn't moved by the time she returned with their mugs of strong, simmered coffee. Trowa took his with a grateful nod; this tasted far more familiar than the weak, oversweet bottled stuff he'd been exposed to at the school.
"You don't need to apologize to me. But no. I'm not going back. It was an empty life. It was just all I had to hope for ever."
"And now we have found something better to hope for," she said as she slid back into her seat. She enjoyed the strong aroma of the coffee before taking her first, small drink. "It is strange, is it not, that so many of the others harbor so much skepticism. So much suspicion. I suppose it is only inevitable that they would suspect us, in particular, as being models of that which they do not wish to become."
"They're naive," Trowa said. "And trying not to see what's right in front of them. The school has classes on how to fight. The world outside the school will be coming for us. They will need to be soldiers. The question is whether they can be good enough soldiers to survive for long. It's our job to help ensure that."
"Agreed," said Tessa. "It is an objective complicated by the provision that as much normalcy as possible be maintained. I am not certain it is possible." Whether it were desirable or not was another question entirely, and one toward which she remained ambivalent. "Many of them have the appropriate temperament. Others ... will require motivation."
"And Xavier? Do you think he understands what he is doing?"
"I do," she answered without hesitation. "And I trust him." Tessa took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee. "We first met some time prior to my arrival in the United States, when he was traveling across Afghanistan. He is not a stranger to conflict, and I think he appreciates what is at stake. And that sacrifices will be inevitable, if we are to achieve our objectives."
"Good." Trowa lifted the mug to his lips and took a long swallow, savoring the bitterness. "I hope he understand which of his soldiers are meant for battle, and which need to be protected from it."
"Telepathy is an extremely useful tool, in that regard," she said. "And the Professor's is far better-developed than my own. But even the detection of nothing more than broad emotional responses can provide valuable insights, and a basis for predicting future behaviors."
For reasons he couldn't fathom, Trowa found his thoughts on Quatre and his seemingly inexhaustible good nature.
"I hope you're right."
Main Street at Salem Center was as busy as one would expect for lunchtime on a weekend. And the weather was doing nothing to keep people indoors; it was bright and sunny with the first crisp hints of fall in the air.
The noise and traffic didn't bother Trowa very much (though he would have felt more at ease with, at the least, a pistol under his jacket), but he didn't understand why they were out here either.
He looked over at Tessa.
"What did you want to show me?"
"Our reason for this outing is twofold," she told him, walking at his side in a dark, lightweight coat that reached to just above her knees, her hands casually tucked into her pockets. "First, endless patrols and assessment of the school's strengths and weaknesses as a defensive point can only continue so long before we reach the limits of what is possible--to say nothing of allowable. Acquainting ourselves with the environment beyond the school is a logical extension of our overall strategy."
Dark eyes studied the other pedestrians crossing back and forth along the maze of intersecting sidewalks and narrow suburban streets. It was strange, to be among so many people again--just another anonymous face in the amorphous crowd--but not entirely unfamiliar. "Second, we wish to broaden your familiarity with the prevailing social norms of this region, to hasten your assimilation into the school community. This sort of setting is precisely what many of the other students would have considered normal, prior to the manifestation of their abilities. Learning their baseline and gaining an appreciation for how far it diverges from our own will, I think, be useful. For us both."
"Hn." Trowa cast his gaze dubiously over their surroundings. He'd have felt more "normal" in his old jacket, but it had been deemed conspicuous. "For infiltration purposes, you mean?"
"Ease of infiltration is one consideration," Tessa acknowledged. "But it is of secondary importance. I think the Professor's objective is to make it easier for us to relate to and interact with our peer group. At the moment, we are viewed as anomalies." And, for her part, the psion did wish to learn these things. She would not reject any potentially useful data she encountered. To actually live it, though ... she was not certain she could understand why that should be a desirable thing. At least, not with the present facts at her disposal.
"We are anomalies," Trowa pointed out. "Our experiences set us apart from the others. That doesn't mean we're not assets." He followed a half-step behind Tessa, watching their backs.
"Assets, yes." She noted his position, and the vantage he had adopted. It was not necessary, given that her native abilities granted her a situational awareness far that far exceeded normal human potential. Yet it was more familiar to both of them ... and she could not discount the possibility Trowa might detect something she had overlooked. "But not relatable. Not trusted. Coordinated action is not possible without trust."
"Hn." Trowa pushed his hands into his pockets. "I'm trying to learn. But it seems hypocritical. We take refuge because we are different. Because the world doesn't trust strange creatures like us. But the others will distrust us because we are a different kind of strange to them."
"It is contradictory," Tessa agreed. She had not failed to notice that disjunction, both where her familiarity with violence and her telepathic abilities were concerned. "But we are not, for the most part, dealing with mature, experienced perspectives. They have been, in large part, protected, where we were obliged to adapt to our environments for the sake of survival. It is not equitable, but it nevertheless falls to us to demonstrate that we are to be trusted." The cyberpath stopped abruptly, trusting Trowa would not be thrown, and turned to face a corner cafe.
"Coffee?" she offered. "It is weaker than what I am used to, but not unpalatable." Unlike that which was served in the cafeteria.
"I doubt they have sujuk," Trowa said. "But I will take a coffee."
He eyed the cafe warily as they stepped inside. He'd rarely been in places like this when his mercenary company had gone into towns. They were too loud. Too hard to keep an eye on the exits, the comings and goings. Too hard to watch his back. But Tessa was here. He had two sets of eyes watching his back, and entirely in the reassuring way. Maybe it would be all right to try and blend in here.
Old habits were difficult to overcome--particularly when they served a practical function. As such, although Tessa was aware that she was unlikely to be in any danger under such a setting, she nevertheless studied the other patrons with a practiced eye, noting front and rear means of entrance and egress, the large front windows, and any nearby furniture that might serve to shatter the same, in an emergency. Still, her face was stoic as she approached the counter. Once their turn came, she said, "Turkish coffee." It was not an offering typical of cafes in this area, but this one appeared to have made it a signature conceit, of sorts.
The cyberpath turned to Trowa and beckoned him toward the barista with a hand, inviting him to order.
The array of choices was staggering in and of itself. Even if the meaning of everything on the menu board had been perfectly clear, simply having so many things to choose from would have left him rooted to the floor. And that, he was sure, would draw attention. Which was the exact opposite of their mission, wasn't it?
"Turkish coffee," he said. "And a muffin." Better not to make it seem he was mirroring Tessa exactly. Muffins seemed ubiquitous enough in the cafeteria breakfast. And he could see several in the pastry case.
The young man behind the counter smiled, but the expression held an edge of impatience.
"Blueberry, raspberry, chocolate-cherry, chocolate chip, lemon poppyseed, caramel dream, pumpkin spice, jalapeno cornbread, cream cheese and raspberry, orange cranberry, or bran?"
Damn it.
"The first one."
"And a bran muffin for me," Tessa added. Her tone was more ... casual than usual, though more an imitation of what she heard at the school than anything spontaneously arising from within herself. Once they had paid for their purchases, she directed Trowa toward a small table in one corner, flanking one of the large windows so they could study the pedestrian traffic of Salem Centre--and keep the rest of the cafe under surveillance. "They will alert us when the coffees are prepared," she told him.
"You did well," she said. "The specificity is usually more helpful, in such a situation. Even if you have no particular preference, seeming to have one will put the minds of others at ease."
Trowa nodded. "I haven't been in places like this often. And this one seems especially excessive when it comes to choice."
"It is," Tessa agreed readily. "But in a setting like this, where the basic needs of the majority have been met and conflict is largely limited to the interpersonal scale, an establishment of this kind must set itself apart in order to remain economically viable. The most common strategy typically entails making a variety of offerings, and varying available goods from those of competing eateries."
Trowa fell silent for a time, watching the traffic past the window. "It was simpler with my company," he said quietly. "I never had to make decisions unless I was in battle. Sometimes, not even then."
Her eyes turned from the people moving about their unknown errands outside back to the boy across from her. Tessa could certainly understand the appeal of that sort of simplicity. And, while she did think that the Institute would ultimately prove a positive environment for Trowa, she also did not want him to feel as though his options were limited. "I could," she suggested carefully, "find you another company. Create the necessary credentials, in time. If you wished." She would have considered the loss sub-optimal from a practical standpoint, and disappointing from a personal one, but she also understood the unfairness of what was being asked of him. Trowa was being asked to bury the very skills that would be so essential, in the time to come, for the sake of maintaining a pretense of undisturbed normalcy. If he found the situation untenable, she could not blame him.
"No." Trowa picked at the crust of sugar topping the muffin. "I'm not that weak. Xavier's mission is my mission now. And I did not travel all this way just to turn around before I've seen anything of this place but the walls and grounds of one school. But it is still difficult."
The refusal was no louder than his usual tones, but from Trowa, this was practically an outburst.
Tessa bowed her head slightly. "My apologies. I only wanted you to know the option was available." Her face turned toward the counter as their number was called. "Excuse me. I will retrieve our coffee."
Trowa hadn't moved by the time she returned with their mugs of strong, simmered coffee. Trowa took his with a grateful nod; this tasted far more familiar than the weak, oversweet bottled stuff he'd been exposed to at the school.
"You don't need to apologize to me. But no. I'm not going back. It was an empty life. It was just all I had to hope for ever."
"And now we have found something better to hope for," she said as she slid back into her seat. She enjoyed the strong aroma of the coffee before taking her first, small drink. "It is strange, is it not, that so many of the others harbor so much skepticism. So much suspicion. I suppose it is only inevitable that they would suspect us, in particular, as being models of that which they do not wish to become."
"They're naive," Trowa said. "And trying not to see what's right in front of them. The school has classes on how to fight. The world outside the school will be coming for us. They will need to be soldiers. The question is whether they can be good enough soldiers to survive for long. It's our job to help ensure that."
"Agreed," said Tessa. "It is an objective complicated by the provision that as much normalcy as possible be maintained. I am not certain it is possible." Whether it were desirable or not was another question entirely, and one toward which she remained ambivalent. "Many of them have the appropriate temperament. Others ... will require motivation."
"And Xavier? Do you think he understands what he is doing?"
"I do," she answered without hesitation. "And I trust him." Tessa took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee. "We first met some time prior to my arrival in the United States, when he was traveling across Afghanistan. He is not a stranger to conflict, and I think he appreciates what is at stake. And that sacrifices will be inevitable, if we are to achieve our objectives."
"Good." Trowa lifted the mug to his lips and took a long swallow, savoring the bitterness. "I hope he understand which of his soldiers are meant for battle, and which need to be protected from it."
"Telepathy is an extremely useful tool, in that regard," she said. "And the Professor's is far better-developed than my own. But even the detection of nothing more than broad emotional responses can provide valuable insights, and a basis for predicting future behaviors."
For reasons he couldn't fathom, Trowa found his thoughts on Quatre and his seemingly inexhaustible good nature.
"I hope you're right."
