multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Gaheris Rhade and Open
What: Rhade takes a break from city searching
Where: Outside of one of Gediron's temples.
When: A couple of days after his arrival
Warnings & Notes: Some almost violence. He's still at sort of an angsty place in his lift too, so it might come up in thread. Note to mods: if anything is off, I will be glad to change it.

He was scouting the area of the city near the inn where he'd been recieved. The intention that day had been to go to the unemployment office (it was bizarre that, after so many years as a commissioned officer and one expecting his life to end, that he'd find himself in this position). Unfortunately, outside of one of the temples (belonging to the god of war, he thought?) there was a heated game of chess going on with an intent onlooker.

Rhade never shied away from strategy games. He'd played them to conclusion almost daily for over four years, and the last year of which against an artificial intelligence. Successfully side-tracked, he waited his turn to sit at the table against the reigning winner. He could always continue with his mission once he'd won a game and perhaps he could acquire information. So he asked for a turn, and took the place of the losing participant who joined in observing.

The only thing he learned was that he should be dedicating his victories to Gediron. Very well, there would be no expense to him in doing so. And he did. And the next one after the insistance for a rematch. And the next one. By that third, his oponent (a rather sturdy bodied, red-headed and ruddy faced human with a fair share of scars), who had been entirely too underestimating, stood up and his hand went back as if to reach for a holstered weapon.

Before he could even wrap his fingers around it, Rhade's own arm was up, boneblades out and near the increasingly nervous man's throat. He would have been much more cocky, confident about his swift reaction, if the man's friends that had been watching didn't suddenly look keen on joining in on a fight.

He was new to the area. He couldn't imagine anything good coming from this when he killed someone. And he knew he would kill someone if they came after him. The idea of interrogation and the need for self-preservation was enough to stay his hand. Lowering his arm, switched to raising his hands in a vague gesture of surrender and backed away from the table, away from the temple, even if his expression remained daring.

It would be a miracle if he could stay out of trouble past the first two weeks. He despised backing off, but he would take it as his cue to tend to priorities.

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That remark makes her look over, quiet for a second, still, in her fashion, though she doesn't stop walking. When she tips her head forward it's in concession, but, as she says, with a crooked edge to her smile, "Yes. I'm not an easy woman to subjugate."

She tends to lash out.

A lot. Not violently, but after oppression for her ethnicity, species, and abilities...she's got a certain temperament. As a result, she appreciates Rhade's viewpoint.

"I don't usually have to defend myself often anymore. It's been a long time since I've worked the way I used to, where I was in combat more frequently." And nowadays...well, sometimes, if she just wants people to leave her alone, with the right undercurrent and push to it, they usually do. She'd like to believe she doesn't do that consciously, but even Wanda never quite knows, with her powers. "That's a difficulty, here, finding something close to what I had at home, professionally."

She hadn't said soldier. "An operative of some sort?" he asks curiously.

"I'd been led to believe that there were occupations for many skill sets. The unemployment office might prove otherwise. But I do need to find something to do with my time. Perhaps I should have been challenging them for money."

On top of that, he's pretty sure every item of clothing that he's going to have to buy is going to have to be specially tailored, rather than something readily available. And that's irritating in itself.

"That's certainly one good way to keep afloat until you do find something to devote your time to." Wanda sees nothing wrong with that, she and Remy used to hit up corrupt casinos back in Xanadu.

"There does seem to be a lot of variety," she concedes, "It's more that I'm used to sort of a specialized field. I was previously part, at one point a leader, of a group of people who dealt with large-scale threats to the planet and the universe. We were called the Avengers."

'Superhero' is a word she tends to veer away from, these days.

"The only comparable groups I know of are Hellsing and the Militia; I'm uncertain of the former and not terribly enamored of the latter."

Understatement.

Edited 2011-11-08 03:17 (UTC)

"I have heard of such positions." He just nods. "Though not officially sanctioned." More like positions particular people were manipulated into. "And I think taking their money would have resulted in physical conflict. I don't doubt that I would have won, but then they might have cried theft." He comes close to adding, If he managed to live through it.

"The Militia does sound questionable. Hellsing I don't know much about either, not even its purpose."

He stops and looks at the map, and looks at the building he's next to as he's double checking. But thus far he's enjoying his conversation, and he's learning valuable information, so he decides to stand there.

"Hellsing ostensibly is here to manage the supernatural aspect of Baedal, but..." It's not the organization's military bent that bothers her (although she does not personally belong in such a group). "I've seen a lot of groups like theirs before. I have no doubt they have good intentions."

All the same, some things she has heard about their methods remind her of the sayings about good intentions leading directly to hell.

"I'll tell you what," Wanda says, after a thoughtful moment, "I'll keep an eye out for something that might appeal to you, professionally, if you do the same for me."

"But the road to hell is frequently paved with them." Speaking shared thoughts aloud. He knows that himself all too well. "Perhaps it would be wise for me to remain independent for the time being." Mostly he didn't trust himself. Not after the mistakes he made. If this place was as volatile as mentioned, he was already a danger to it by being here. He would change things for the worst.

"I think your terms are agreeable." He decides.

She inclines her head in agreement as he inadvertently reads her mind. "In a place that's as new as this one, to all of us--I'm hardly an expert--it's usually better not to make any long-term ties."

Particularly given the previous discussion of the likelihood this place is housing innumerable secrets, some of them undoubtedly worrying. Wanda reaches up to push her hair away from her face, as is the pastime of every woman with hair as riotously curly as hers.

"That means I'll have to know what you're looking for, though." She's only just met Rhade, but it only takes about five minutes to ascertain he's not destined for the same kind of job a 20-year-old college student might like, as an example. It's a familiar quality for her, and although the world he's from sounds in most ways pretty different to hers, it's good to see.