nexus_sages | (no subject)

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James T. Kirk absolutely loves marketplaces.

It's not necessarily because he's looking for anything, per se, although he does often keep an eye out for interesting books to add to his collection, or maybe a bottle of some kind of exotic alcohol, or some kind of pointless alien gizmo with which to annoy Spock with its purposeless existence. No, he just loves the sheer diversity each bazaar brings to the table.

No two markets have ever been alike, in his experience. Sure, it's not quite as exciting and mysterious as exploring deep space, but it's something of a microcosm of the same, all sorts of goods and cultures thrown into close quarters, and one never knows what one might find just down the street.

His shipboard gold uniform may stand out a bit in the crowd as he meanders along, a faint smile on his face as he leans in to examine someone's wares on display, just enjoying being out and about in the fresh air.

[OOC: Retconning Jim eating bacon in this thread. Hadn't fully considered some of the elements in his backstory at the time.]

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"So you get all the credit for a discovery and none of the paperwork? That's a pretty good deal." Ver's answering grin has a good deal of smirk in it. Not that she blames him for preferring the easy way out on this. There's more time for exploring then.

"It's a start." He's an explorer. Ver's sure he'll figure it out.

The weaponry doesn't much interest her, outside of an idle wondering whether Samus knows how to use these things (and a deep understanding that if Verity brought any to their training sessions she would be taught how to use them too). She picks up two small cones of incense and sets them on the counter, in the universal language of 'I want these but I'm still looking around'. The books get her attention, and she'll be heading over for a look when he's done; for now, she'll examine the food, particularly the spices.

"So, can you read those?"

Every type of food item is accompanied by a small, hand-written label somewhere on its respective container, and though the largest words are in the same looping script that's on the books, there are also standard English translations in smaller letters beneath. Many of the spices are native to Vulcan, though there are also a few Earth varieties on offer, like cinnamon and saffron.

As far as the other food for sale, there is no meat or dairy, or anything else that got its start as part of an animal. But there are quite a few types of fruits and vegetables, edible desert flowers, fresh-baked spiced breads, and several kinds of loose leaf tea in hermetically-sealed containers.

"To a degree," Jim answers her, as he takes one of the books off the shelf and carefully opens it, skimming over the lines of text inside. "I'm more fluent in conversational Vulcan than any of the technical stuff, but I can generally tell what I'm looking at."

The English translations are a nice touch, and appreciated, for all the names still mean nothing to her. But the scents and colors, those mean something. Even without tasting, a cook can learn a lot about an ingredient from observation. The Earth spices get passing glances, mostly so she knows what's considered to go well with these new Vulcan flavors. She's going to end up with quite a pile of samples. Tempting as it is to get some of everything, she can only learn about new flavors so fast. And she can come back.

"It's a gift, being good at languages. I'm not fluent in many, but a friend gave me... well, a sort of a translator, which you can imagine is very helpful in a place like this." After a moment's debate, she decides to get some of the teas. Schon will like them. "The alphabet they use here is pretty."

Jim sets the book back just how it was, and selects another, examining it just as carefully. Almost reverently, in fact. This one prompts a smile out of him too, as he recognizes the format as the kind used for pre-Reform poetry. Awesome.

"Universal translators are standard-issue, but Starfleet doesn't like relying on breakable tech with no backup," Jim says, closing the book and tucking it under one arm. He's definitely getting this one. "Especially when my crew's got probably two dozen native languages between everyone. I can get by in three other tongues besides English, and I've picked up little bits of others over the years. My communications chief speaks twenty-six fluently, because she's an overachiever." He says that in the fondest of manners, of course.

Before he steps away from the books, he takes another volume, one that he recognizes as the collected writings of Surak. Every Vulcan alive probably knows them by heart, but he has no idea how many physical copies remain, and it's worth preserving another copy of their culture's core tenets.

His reactions to the books make her wonder what they're about, but at least she knows this has been a successful trip. She can live with the curiosity.

"Twenty-six? Wow. That's got to be some kind of a record." She pauses and thinks about that before adding, "For people without cybernetic enhancements. I only learned English, high school Spanish, and about a half-dozen ways to order food and give people directions back home." Pretty standard for the time and place where she grew up.

"Your friend likes books?" She nods to the ones he's carrying, wondering if they're even for his friend anymore. No fault found if he decides to treat himself.

"At her age, probably," Jim agrees, moving over to the food to examine some of the bins of vegetables. "It's definitely not the norm for most of the 'fleet, but everyone's required to get at least one other language under their belt before graduating from the Academy. I picked up most of mine before Starfleet, though. Kind of an on-the-job sort of thing."

He glances down at the books when she asks, and gives her one of those 'yeah, I'm busted' sort of smiles. "Not as much as me. Paper books aren't really that common anymore, so I don't know how many physical copies of the Kir'Shara are left. I figure he might like something he can actually touch. The poetry's for me."

They can trade places since she'll be looking over the books next. "Makes sense. Explorers should know languages and how to learn them. I wasn't much of a traveler until I had to be. What did you do before you joined Starfleet?"

Her answering smile is one of shared not-quite-guilt, but perks right up when he mentions poetry. "You like poetry?" But the way her eyes start scanning the shelves, she's clearly also wondering if there's more. "There's something special about a paper book. The way they engage more of the senses."

"All sorts of stuff. Tending bar, exotic dancing, spent a little while as a courier. The languages came from being a deckhand on a cargo freighter." Jim picks up something that looks kind of like a blue carrot and turns it over, inspecting it for ripeness.

"Poetry's great," he answers with a grin, and nods in agreement with her assertion. "The smell of the ink, the feel of the paper... you don't get any of that with datapads. It's fine for reports and stuff, but books should be real books."

"Huh. Well, they do say traveling is a great way to learn these things." Since they had that euphemism where she's from, too, Ver's not going anywhere near the 'exotic dancing' part of his resume. Okay, maybe obliquely. "Have you met any people who communicate through interpretive dance?"

"Mm, and the sound of the pages turning." It's so nice to meet someone from a more technologically-advanced society who still enjoys these things. She plucks a book from the shelf somewhat randomly, since the titles don't quite mean anything to her (although they haven't quite reached 'Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra' levels of confusion here). The book is treated with care, set down before she opens it and scans a few pages. Her juggling skills are nowhere near impressive enough to manage reading a book one-handed. "There's a shop that specializes in poetry, it's a bit of a walk from here but I could give you directions if you'd like?"

That gets a little chuckle out of him, and he flashes her a grin. "If you mean primary language, then no, not yet. But that would be awesome."

Jim's enjoying the opportunity to talk about the merits of physical books too. It's rare for him to run into anyone who appreciates the sensory experience of really reading something, but a crate of ancient paperback novels is responsible for getting him through a tough time in his past, and he has a big ol' soft spot for them. Her offer definitely gets his attention. "I'd appreciate that. Walking's no problem, especially if there's more interesting stuff on the way."

"That would be awesome," she agrees. "Unless they were giant space bees."

Old books have saved many a broken heart. She'd never fault him for that. (So long as there were no ripped bodices or sparkly vampires.) Books have saved her more than a time or two. Math books, so probably of less interest to him. It's still a shared affection. "Oh, there's plenty of interesting things to see around here. I hope your crew won't miss you for a few days."

Nexus directions get interesting. She has to write them in three colors because otherwise, he'll never be able to tell the stick figures apart. This is why women's clothing needs pockets: you never know when you're going to end up in the middle of everywhere and need a gel pen rainbow.

This is where he hesitates, looking up from the vegetables to frown in her direction. "They would, but I can come back, right? It's not like this is one of those 'little shops that wasn't there yesterday' and then you can never return?"

"Well, I can't promise it'll always be there, but I've seen it there more than once." It's as close to a promise of permanence as she can give. "I don't think it travels around or only appears during certain phases of the moon or anything."

Not the most reassuring answer, but she offers him the directions anyway. "If it does go, there are other shops that sell books, and some sell poetry. We won't be bereft."

"Yeah, I'm getting that sense about this place," he agrees, taking the written directions with a grateful nod, tucking the scrap of paper into one of the books under his arm. "With infinite universes crossing through, it's probably got everything you can think of and then some."

"Just about," she agrees carefully. "But you know what they say, be careful what you wish for. And to say what you mean and mean what you say."

Good deed done and shopping pretty complete, Ver's starting to get a little itchy to get home to her relative peace and quiet. Nothing against the present company, she's just got issues. (And a bill to settle up, no need for Vulcan side-eyeing on that score.)

"All good points," he agrees.

Having made his own selection of vegetables, he's pretty much done here too, and is gratified to see that thumbprint scan is one of many available options for payment here. And he certainly feels that he's monopolized enough of this kind stranger's time. "Thanks for all the tips. Nice to get the inside scoop from one of the locals," he adds with a smile.

Thumbprint scan payments? The miracles of modern technology.

Ver packs her things carefully into her shopping basket before settling it against her hip again. "You're welcome. Good luck with your mission. I um. If you're ever in want of a homecooked meal, I'll trade for stories."

Never let it be said that Jim Kirk turns down a chance at real home cooking instead of more bland synthesizer rations. "Oh yeah? I might take you up on that at some point," he says with a grin.

He's a smart man. (And he's the captain of his own ship, surely he can find someone to reprogram the synthesizers?) His enthusiasm for the idea coaxes more of a smile from her. "Well, then. I guess I'll see you around?"

He's probably going to tackle it himself, one of these days, though truth be told, some of it might be in his head. In any case, he offers his hand for a farewell handshake. "Seems likely. I'm definitely looking forward to checking this place out again." By which he means the Nexus as a whole, not just the little Vulcan shop, although there's that too. "It was nice meeting you, Verity." And he certainly does mean that.

She is well aware of the things in people's heads that can cause problems. That doesn't make the problems any less real. And she would know.

Ver can handle a handshake and does so with a steady smile. Hands can be revealing: for all her appearance of a quiet life, she's got the hands of someone who works hard. Strong and a little calloused, but smooth. "Nice to meet you too, Jim. Good luck out there."

"Thanks. You take care out there. And thanks again." Jim is pretty pleased with this entirely unexpected detour through time and space, and he's certainly looking forward to doing it again.

"You're welcome." She gives him a nod before heading out.

[Thanks for the scene, this was fun!]

[You're welcome! And thanks to you too for playing with me. :) It's been too long since I've done any RP and I've missed it a lot.]

[Glad you're back! :D]

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