nexus_sages | (no subject)

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Kazuhira Miller has made himself at home at a cozy Nexus seating group. He pores over a spread of newspapers and magazines covering a plethora of universes and alternate Earth timelines. To one side, a text book on theoretical physics is opened to a chapter on string theory and a cup of black coffee has formed a puckered ring over Donald Trump's leering face on an issue of Time Magazine.

He lays his current paper flat on the adjacent coffee table, leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and loosely clasp his palms. "What's the strangest news you've ever heard? Or, if you'd rather: what world event would you say has affected you the most?"

Miller's head turns and points to a four-inch stack of glossy flyers. He sighs. "And ... while we're at it, when did newspapers become seventy-percent ads?"

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I have, it is, and it does.

*There's a fierce satisfaction in those last two words. The Space Pirates are the terror of the spaceways, an army of fear that strikes where and when it likes. Faced with armies, their answer is slogans of superiority and heavy firepower. The moment she enters a theater of engagement, all their bravado turns to shrieking panic. It's delicious.*

One of the tales I was raised on was of a Warrior who pushed a glacier into the sea with his hands, mostly through determination. I wouldn't be surprised if Sisyphus finished with that rock someday--and on that day, I wouldn't want to be whoever put it in front of him.

Miller smiles at that determination. This time, it isn't a flirty, cheeky expression so much as a genuinely appreciative one. That warrior's spirit just turns some particularly hard-to-reach cranks.

"Neither would I. Although -- when you really dig into it -- there are lots of interpretations for the rock in question, philosophically speaking. Is it love? Punishment? Purpose? Maybe we're supposed to learn something from the process itself and, yanno, not actually getting to the top of that hill...

"Then again, it is really satisfying to punch someone in the face who had it coming, philosophical lessons be damned."

*The smile gets an answering one--more a comrade-in-arms smile than a cat-with-a-mouse, this time.*

Very true. Most satisfying is to learn the lesson, and then use it to teach the teacher in turn.

"Absolutely," he agrees, his smile pressing into something ever so slightly flatter.

He wipes a hand along his jaw thoughtfully. "Damn. Covered lots of territory, didn't we? Thanks for putting up with all my ignorant, 20th Century Earth questions."

*She gives an obliging nod.*

Your questions were sensible and respectfully asked--believe me I've dealt with worse. Naugus was particularly bad, when he arrived. If you've got questions again, don't be afraid to look for me.

His eyes roll behind his glasses at the wizard's mention. Not the least bit surprised judging by his brief interaction.

"Same goes for you." He adjusts his scarf and resumes his much earlier pose on the couch. "Not that I have much to offer aside from this pretty face."

*Her smirk is one of agreement on the subject. The Mobian wizard makes an absolute spectacle of himself.*

Don't sell yourself short. You've got real estate, contacts, resources, and information in a Facet I've never been to. That's not nothing.

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