nexus_sages | A Chill in the Air

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A Chill in the Air

The Nexus may have seen a glittering and glorious ball the night before, but every party must end. Every overindulgence has its morning-after regrets. The pains of burning eyes and revolting stomachs have visited more than a few people like malevolent fairies. And then the lucky denizens of the Nexus get another treat.

Cailleach may well be the grumpiest looking grumpy old lady ever. If she'd been sucking on lemons for a thousand years she could not look more sour. White hair fragile with age is hidden beneath a scarf and within the hood of her raincoat. Her glasses are old-fashioned, her makeup is out of style, and her shoes are sensible. Do not ask her for candy. She is not your granny.

What is is watching the goings-on with increasing vexation. Something about everyone passing by seems to set her to an ever-increasing amount of angry muttering. Finally, she can't contain it anymore. "Why don't young people prepare for the lean times coming? Do you all think it'll be sunshine and flowers forever?"

It doesn't matter who answers. She's grumpy and demands an audience.

((She's going to be 100% mean to just about everyone, be warned. #sorrynotsorry))

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*The question catches Samus' ear. In the culture that raised her, the Elders are respected and (relevantly) heeded. She diverts from her current course to ask a question of her own.*

Are these some specific lean times you know are coming, or just lean times in general?

Is that how her elders raised her, to sass back? Cailleach is not impressed. Not with the sass, and not with that wardrobe. In her days...

"Both. It's near winter now, the snows will be falling soon, and what have you done to prepare? Silly girl, you don't even have a proper coat!" Cailleach shakes her head in that particularly infuriating mixture of patronization and regret.

*Samus wasn't even trying for sass, it was a sincere question. The condescension is a little irritating, but there's still some ingrained respect of Elders keeping the Hunter's demeanor respectful.*

Ah, winter. This is a vacsuit--it can keep me at a comfortable temperature down to ten degrees below freezing. My armor can handle deeper cold, but I don't usually wear it around here because it tends to make people nervous.

The old woman isn't quite sure what a 'vacsuit' is, except indecent-looking, which only makes her grump about it more. Damned technology going and changing things!

"Aye, and your food stores? Your medicines? Have you put up for winter?"

*Yes, in Samus' time, technology has changed so very much.*

On what I have stashed here and there, I could eat for years--assuming I didn't bother to hunt anything to supplement that. Where medicine is concerned, if I can stay conscious through it, I have the tools to put myself back together from it, and possibly more if I have needy guests. I like to be prepared.

Let's not say that Cailleach doesn't like how everything's being destroyed, poisoned by progress. It's kind of her jam. But does it have to be so noisy and stinky? Must they act so smugly superior about it? Smug superiority is her thing! She's been doing it since before forever!

And now here's a sass-backer who's prepared. What's she supposed to grump about now? Not having anything to grump about, of course! "Yes, well. Your big plans won't always work, missy."

*Is she annoyed that the progress-poisoners eventually started trying to find ways for the progress to not be poisonous and destructive? As for preparation, well...*

Of course not. So I make more plans for the chance that they'll fail, and more for if those fail, on and on, and still keep myself as ready to improvise as I can. If something's going to kill me, it's got a long, hard fight to look forward to, and I intend to leave a crater when I go.

Of course she's annoyed. She'd be annoyed if they didn't, too. There's literally no winning with this one. Especially not today.

"Sounds busy," she grumps. "How're you supposed to remember all those plans when you need them?" But all grumping aside, that idea of leaving a crater when she goes almost, almost gets a look of approval.

*Why does Samus feel a need to earn this stranger's good opinion? She doesn't know, and that uncertainty, coupled with the endless criticisms, are turning her pleasant mood sour. Her tone and expression grow tight with it.*

I practice. I train until the follow-through is reflex. I plan ahead, preparing the field so that whatever goes wrong, my instinctive response will send me in the right direction. I get all the information I can ahead of time, to limit myself to the plans I will actually need. And I cheat, every chance I get.

Good. Anyone who thinks a good mood deserves to continue unabated and unchallenged is being naive. Samus should know better than to leave something she cherishes undefended.

But then she goes and admits to cheating, and Cailleach can't help but look approving. Just a little, just for a moment. "Well then. Perhaps you'll survive a bit longer than your enemies."

*Not so long ago, that would have been Samus' attitude--how dare someone flaunt their good cheer when they've done nothing she can see to earn or defend it? How odd it feels to be on the other side of that.*

A moment is usually all I need.

*That hint of approval, however brief, was noted. Samus is back to being pleased with herself, if more warily than before.*

It might be good for Samus to have a reminder of how far she's come. Or a guide for where she wants to get back to. Up to her.

"Hmm. Looks like you've lived more than a few moments." It's good to be wary when Cailleach is pleased with something. She's not the sort to be pleased by things other people find good or beneficial or nice.

*Wherever one decides to go, setting a course is somewhat simpler with landmarks.*

I've outlived more than a few enemies.

*Though she smiles, it's tight, with something fierce behind the pleasantry. A lioness might smile that way, or a bird of prey.*

It looks like you've seen past your share, as well.

Be wary: objects viewed in hindsight are less obvious than they appear.

Cailleach's shoulders rise and lower, like the effort of shrugging off the idea is almost too much. "Yes, well. At my age, you outlive most everything."

Does it feel like winning?

"No."

Beneath the grump, there's a weary resignation.

No.

*Her tone is one of agreement, and though she's younger, she has a hint of some similar weariness.*

But I'd imagine you've done more than just outlive people?

*It's an invitation to share some of that age-won wisdom, however pessimistic it might be.*

Samus is wasting her time if she's hoping there'll be some sympathy, or even empathy for shared experiences. There's none of that to be had here.

"What else is there?"

*She's not entirely certain what she's hoping for--this woman is like an Elder of her people, and yet decidedly unlike. Perhaps she only grasps for the familiar. This woman is proving past first blush, though, to be decidedly unfamiliar, and the Hunter's brow furrows.*

Is that all you do? Sit quietly and wait for other people to die?

"Mm." Cailleach should be more than a little familiar to the Hunter, if not in comforting ways. "I wouldn't say 'wait', no."

*Ah. That's why she feels familiar.*

Who gets your attention?

Even in the depths of her greatest hubris, Samus never thought she was alone or special in that talent, did she? Efficient, perhaps. Cailleach would grant her that measure of regard.

"Eh. Those who deserve it, sometimes. Sometimes those who don't. Some would simply call them 'the unlucky'."

*It's more that, even after this long in the Nexus, she hasn't often met someone who was a greater avatar of ruin than herself who didn't ignorantly advertise the fact to all and sundry as obviously as they were able. The answer pulls down at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as she gives the woman another looking over, measuring more carefully in light of what's been said and trying to make sense of it. She settles on the idea that this woman is probably some sort of personified force of nature.*

Favorite method?

True professionals don't need to flash cred. The new scrutiny makes the old woman smirk, which is not a friendly or inviting sort of expression.

"Cold. Deprivation. Claws and teeth, when I want it done fast."

Small mercy.

*This no longer seems like a day for friendly or inviting expressions.*

Is that generosity, or just impatience?

A Chill in the Air

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I've just been waiting too long to use this icon.

It's a very good icon!

Thank you.

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