[The first thing Tesla tries, after the pairing announcements go up (and after taking a brief moment to do the mental equivalent of going 'here we go again') is to reach out of the network. It's only when it becomes obvious that isn't going to get him anywhere that he sets about tracking his inmate down in person. Admittedly, he might not have much of an idea of the sorts of places that Fou-Lu tends to be, but his item helps, at least and he's willing to be patient besides.]
[Fou-Lu spends a great deal of time just wandering. It's beginning to wear on him, but his lack of purpose with no worshippers screaming inside his mind, his lack of recourse without his power, every aspect of his imprisonment... More importantly, he's never had to decide what to do with himself.
At the moment, he's strolling the deck, considering the pretty spread of stars he still believes is an impressive but ultimately uninteresting magical illusion. At least something here is pretty.
He isn't in a mood to pay attention to his surroundings. Tesla's approach gets no acknowledgement from him.]
[It wouldn't be the first time Tesla has been all but ignored by someone, regardless of the reason. And to be perfectly fair, the stars going by is a fairly reasonable thing to be distracted by. Still, they aren't going to get anywhere if he doesn't speak up, and so it is that after a brief moment of silence, he does exactly that.]
[The cabin is quite a spectacle all on its own. The door is green marble covered in inscrutable carvings, and it does not look like it was ever intended to be opened. He doesn't spend too much time here--he doesn't actually enjoy the place, and he needs much less sleep than a human. But sometimes the dark and quiet is nice.
He's had visitors turn up before, so he drags the massive door open laboriously. It should open at a thought from him, but lots of things should happen. There's no light source inside, only what comes from the hall, which falls upon more spooky carved stone and a body-sized plinth in the middle.
He looks a bit nonplussed. New person. He's been ambushed before over certain strangulation-related choices he's made, and his posture grows wary.]
[Nadja greatly approves. She grew up poor and only after several centuries of extended long life has she begun to cultivate a more lavish image of herself. She dresses to impress, in old Victorian clothing despite being from 2018 modern Earth, and comes in this garb to meet her new temporary inmate.
She addresses him formally and politely, used to switching between that and her more 'common' language in more familiar company]
No; please forgive me for intruding, I will not disturb you long.
I am called Nadja. I'm looking for the man who calls himself Fou-Lu.
Though he's seen Fou-Lu around, B hasn't managed to corner him for a proper chat since he return. This seems like as good a time as any. He tracks the little white-haired dragon down.
"C'mon. I'm gonna make us some cocoa," he offers first thing. He has no idea if alcohol works on Fou-Lu, knows for sure it doesn't work on him, and cocoa is much more pleasant anyway. A good drink for commiserating, and maybe cheering up. With any luck, even, Fou-Lu won't ever have had it before.
Already feeling rather spectacularly wrong-footed by current events, Fou-Lu is particularly slow and stiff in his response. He also doesn't know what cocoa is, but this is apparently a settled thing, and he has no reason to actually resist. With a somewhat deer-in-the-headlights look, he nods, but it's not the most enthusiastic reception, even by his standards.
At least he didn't chase him off. That's better than nothing. B starts for the stairs down below decks, to his own cabin. "You okay?" he asks first, not looking at him, metal hand in his pocket and flesh one on the stairwell railing.
The day after the pairing announcement goes out, B tracks down Fou-Lu again. This time no cocoa, at least not yet. "Hi, Ryong." Yes, he knows that's not the guy's name with the Admiral. But it's not his name on the announcement, either. If the guy wants to go by another name, he can go by another name.
He's nervous. Of course he is. But at least it's someone he knows, and who he can at least pretend he's not in some position of power over. Hopefully.
While he's gotten used to hearing Fou-Lu from temps, he's glad not to. His simple fear of the name itself has abated some, but he's still seen nothing to prove this place is truly out of his enemies' reach. And more than that, after a few conversations with Trouble, he isn't sure it belongs to him anymore. Ryong has plenty of its own complications, but maybe...
Either way, he turns at the summons and nods. As is often the case, he doesn't have much to say. His experience with temps isn't bad--often it's no experience at all--just a quiet, brief exchange of thoughts at best.
At least he's calmed to the point of reacting with annoyance rather than rage-flavored terror when someone is ill-judging enough to address him by his true name. He doesn't even see the point of arguing. He doesn't pay any attention to the admiral's assignments, but usually when some irritating stranger walks up to start a conversation, it's a warden thing. "Thou'lt find no grist to mill thy dealings with the admiral here," he says flatly. Fou-Lu wouldn't know a phone if it bit him, but manages to exude the aura of one who isn't looking up from their phone to answer a question.
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At the moment, he's strolling the deck, considering the pretty spread of stars he still believes is an impressive but ultimately uninteresting magical illusion. At least something here is pretty.
He isn't in a mood to pay attention to his surroundings. Tesla's approach gets no acknowledgement from him.]
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You arrived here not that long ago, right?
[Spam]
Fuck it; fine. If the Admiral wishes for her to meet with this first emperor, she will.
She finds his cabin easily enough and knocks, settling her hands down. She's never even met this one before; what could he be like?]
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He's had visitors turn up before, so he drags the massive door open laboriously. It should open at a thought from him, but lots of things should happen. There's no light source inside, only what comes from the hall, which falls upon more spooky carved stone and a body-sized plinth in the middle.
He looks a bit nonplussed. New person. He's been ambushed before over certain strangulation-related choices he's made, and his posture grows wary.]
Madam. We have not been introduced?
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She addresses him formally and politely, used to switching between that and her more 'common' language in more familiar company]
No; please forgive me for intruding, I will not disturb you long.
I am called Nadja. I'm looking for the man who calls himself Fou-Lu.
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cw; tales of cannibalism
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Fucking wardens.
Tomorrow, I'll try and get her to your room so have the fucking door open. If it goes to shit, there's a backup.
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audio; a few days post-port
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We, ah, need to talk.
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[He's teasing. Probably. It's hard to tell.]
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You're sweet. I'll meet you on deck?
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The evening of Jake's announcement
"C'mon. I'm gonna make us some cocoa," he offers first thing. He has no idea if alcohol works on Fou-Lu, knows for sure it doesn't work on him, and cocoa is much more pleasant anyway. A good drink for commiserating, and maybe cheering up. With any luck, even, Fou-Lu won't ever have had it before.
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And more action
He's nervous. Of course he is. But at least it's someone he knows, and who he can at least pretend he's not in some position of power over. Hopefully.
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Either way, he turns at the summons and nods. As is often the case, he doesn't have much to say. His experience with temps isn't bad--often it's no experience at all--just a quiet, brief exchange of thoughts at best.
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So it goes. Thou mayest feel perfectly free to carry on as thou wouldst. I've no need for thee.
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[ yes, he is saying 'ring ring ring.' ]
Dorian Gray, your new temp. Where shall we meet up to get this thing started?
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To what purpose? Thou hast naught to offer me that the dozen who came before neglected.
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sorry, I keep losing the notifs for this thread