Participants:
| Scene Title | The Whetting Stone |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Woe to him whom Ishtar had honoured! — Rupe finalizes an addition to Shedda Dinu. |
| Date | January 5, 2009 |
Back Room of Old Lucy's
It was fairly easy to get another meeting to mimic the first; Huruma expressed a curt interest, and now she is taking herself into the back room to meet it face-first once more. Unlike yesterday's leopard print, today she is in black and silver- pants, tall boots over the cuffs, and a wraparound top with a front-zipper. There are studs and rings in her ears, and one attaches by another stud to one side of her nose.
Rupe is not inside when she arrives, but the academic arrives shortly after, carrying his laptop bag and wearing a shirt and tie once again. It's not so much that he feels he has to be formal, it's just…well, how he dresses. He pushes open the door, enters, then sets it gently behind him. "Hello again, Huruma," he says, softly.
Huruma is perched in a chair behind the table, legs crosses propped up by their heels on the corner of the table. Her feet don't face him in the universal 'beneath me' gesture, but she does not bring them down yet. "Afte'noon, Carmichael." Her voice is somewhat tired and has a slight drawl, and her eyes settle on the man less harshly than they had that first meeting.
"Isabelle said you wanted to talk to me. I'm a bit surprised. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon," Rupe rounds the desk and sets his laptop bag down. "Did you have some specific questions for me?" As before, he keeps eye contact, but respectfully rather than challenging.
"Like I said t'ou before- I did owe PARIAH." Huruma takes a deep breath, bringing her boots down with a pair of clicks to the floor. "An'now, they are gone. I read tha'article. You an'your people- you've much more tact than they'ad. Tha'is what interests me." She has questions, but she knows that he is bound to have some too.
Rupe leans on the desk and folds his hands together. His eyebrows arch. "That's the idea. We…learned a lot from PARIAH. Perhaps the biggest lesson is, if you make a name for yourself, other people will use that name against you. And that in turn makes a large target of you. Then political pressures happen, then groups like SCOUT are created." He takes a deep breath, then leans to one side. "I've been doing things like that, for years." He makes a vague hand-motion meant to indicate the article. "But it's time to do things on a larger scale, and that means more people are needed. But we'll always be discrete. This group is not a call to arms. Many of PARIAH's former members need to rethink the way they fight, they need to see that they're more than just their ability. We need to help them apply their abilities in a less…obvious way." He shrugs. "It will take a lot of work." His tone is open, honest and frank, and so is his body language. There's no hint of deception here.
Huruma watches Rupe as he joins her in closer conversation. As he comes towards the end, the smirk on her face grows. "New strategies f'new faces." Huruma drags her nails, tapping on the tabletop. "Tell me… d'y'ave any military experience, mista'Carmichael?" That is one of her most important questions. There is a difference between freedom fighters trying to be sneaky, and trained operatives trying to be the same.
"No," direct, unapologetic. Rupe doesn't BS anyone if he can help it. "But we're all willing to learn. And any less direct assault than what PARIAH has been doing would be an improvement, and far safer for everyone involved."
"Then you'd b'in luck, wit'me." Huruma makes no light gesture of flat-out telling him this. "I grew up in war." The growl of her 'r' drags out. "I do know a thing o'two tha'children do not." Her eyes go down to her hand on the table, then up to Rupe once more.
"I knew you were a warrior," says Rupe with a measure of satisfaction. And it's not just a platitude. He's pretty good at reading people. "I don't have to tell you that we could use you. What this group needs to do is learn to control its anger and use it towards constructive ends. And we need to get satisfaction out of small blows that no one ever hears about. In short, we need to turn a band of righteous delinquants into spies, assassins and warriors. No small task. But something needs to be done. "
"I can safely say tha'I am th'epitome of… 'controlled anger'…" That force of Nature thought from the first meeting? Yes, it is rather accurate. "I am more than a brute- I am all of what you need." Her eyes narrow at him, almost predatory, and the dark woman's voice rolls into a purring tone. "Hand m'metal- an'I shall hand'ou a blade."
Something about her passionate words causes a similar look to flare up in Rupe's eyes. He may be a tweedy academic, but there's something else beneath, something that feels a kinship with this violent woman. The corner of his mouth twists up into a small smile. "Well. It just so happens I have a lot of metal. Cured. Ready for sharpening."
 January 5th: Agnus Dei |
 January 5th: Ping-Pong! |