hadriel_logs | The dead know better

Entry tags:

The dead know better

Who: Lance Sweets and Maketh Tua
What: Chance encounters. Uneasy conversations.
Where: Outside the Guard post.
When: Forward-dated to June 3rd.
Warnings: Langue, mental health talk.

The sword has been hiding in the back of her closet since the incident with the doubles - perfectly cleaned and sharpened, of course - but out of sight, out of mind. A childish avoidance. Sometimes Maketh has dreams about finding it stuck through her chest again, the double laughing at her, that perfect empty pain. And then she wakes up and puts them away, because a dream is only a dream and means nothing if you are strong.

But the sword is a weapon and weapons must be used. There's no point in hiding this one away, not when it's perfectly serviceable.

Her skills are rusty anyway. And, far more importantly, her conduct has been found wanting.

That cannot stand.

So she takes the blade and goes outside the Guard post after her shift, and makes herself go through every sword drill she ever memorized. Over and over again until she no longer hesitates, until the tension is gone and only the motion remains. The blade is sharp and she must be as well. A clean, simple weapon.

Execute your purpose, soldier.

Time passes. She's stripped down to her undershirt and sweating hard, hair beginning to slip from her bun. But she's no longer afraid. If there are further nightmares, then she will conquer them.

Tomorrow, she'll wear the sword at her belt again.

It feels like an accomplishment of sorts and Maketh allows herself a brief moment of satisfaction. This, at least, she can do properly.

She snaps to attention when she hears someone approaching, moving into a ready stance. "Identify yourself!"

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Lance is really glad the event is over.

Sure, it'd been fun at first, but there's only so much partying that someone who doesn't really party can do. The drinking had been more appealing, but not after all the shots during the poker game with Sato and then Rosen getting hammered, and then the nonstop lights and music really started to get to him. He'd spent the last few days of the event carefully controlling the very insistent urge to break things, which fortunately hadn't been too difficult considering both his psychology training and general practice at handling his emotions.

Still, it's nice to not have to do so anymore, and also to get a decent night of sleep. That combined with realizing he feels well enough to try a little exercise leads to him heading out of his apartment that day, dressed casually as is becoming usual here, deciding to make a bit of a loop around Hadriel. Cross the river, go around the lake, cross the river again, stop for coffee at Delight's temple, and go home.

He can't jog for much at a time so he alternates jogging and walking, letting his thoughts drift as he falls into the familiar pattern. That's how he ends up near the Guardpost entirely accidentally, not staying as close to the river as he'd originally planned, and it's a combination of being far in his own head and rounding a building at the wrong time that causes him to accidentally encounter Maketh.

...Does she have a sword? Really?

"It's me." He says, neither particularly annoyed nor threatened, though he does stop immediately in place. Lance is just mentally too calm at the moment to be alarmed, or even dismayed at the bad luck of running into Maketh.

Oh. Him.

Maketh schools her face into perfect blankness, then shifts to stand at attention. The sword she lowers, though doesn't drop. It's a perfectly good sword. She can't risk damage to the blade by dropping it and she doesn't want to sheath it just yet. If she puts it away she might hesitate when it comes time to draw it again. That is an unacceptable error.

"What are you doing out here, Doctor Sweets?"

She eyes him up and down.

"Are you unarmed?"

The disapproval is clear in her tone.

Well, Lance didn't really expect her to drop or put away the sword or anything, so no surprise when she doesn't even though he does feel some vague annoyance at that. He's also not super impressed with her tone or either question she asks, and so ignores them entirely.

"Why a sword?" He asks, instead, nodding his head a little at the weapon and genuinely curious.

That's probably a no. Foolish.

Maketh thins her mouth. "Cadets are trained on them to promote discipline. Bullets are a limited resource here. We make do."

There's nothing wrong with that explanation or the idea in general, honestly, and so even though it's Maketh it isn't too concerning. "That makes sense. Are swords much use against the kinds of monsters that are here?"

Considering he's planning to learn to use one, he might as well ask.

"In close quarters fighting, yes. They are very effective. Less so against the larger threats."

Especially when wielded by a skilled hand. Maketh knows her own talents are acceptable at best. Henry is a true sword master.

She pauses.

"You should not wander around unarmed. It is not wise."

Alright, well, good to know. He wouldn't honestly want to get that close to anything particularly dangerous anyway; that's what his gun is for.

The gun that he's indeed not carrying, and feels a flash of irritation at Maketh's comment regarding. He really wants to say that, so far, only she and Hux have been any sort of threat to him and if they could cease, he wouldn't have any immediate need to defend himself, but that's needlessly combative. Instead, he has a better response. "How often do you find you actually have need to use a weapon in daily life here?"

Maketh frowns at him, not bothering to hide it. What a ridiculous question. Is his world so gentle that its inhabitants have no need to defend themselves from daily life? "This lull is quite strange. Evidence suggests it will not last. The gods like to proclaim their innocence in all this, but the monsters they bring in will not hesitate to kill you."

"An event just ended. I was under the impression that there's usually a break between them, and that it isn't time for the Door to open yet." Also he has yet to see a single monster in the city in the time he's been here, and so far the only threats to him have been other people.

"That is the pattern thus far. However, it does not eliminate the possibility that one of the monsters already in the cave could breach the perimeter." Maketh huffs, eyes narrowed. "Does your world allow you to walk around unarmed?"

"What kind of monsters are in the caves anyway? There doesn't seem to be any information anywhere on what to expect." Which, you know, would be really useful to have.

He also considers ignoring her last question again, but decides to half-answer instead. "I don't have any interest in hearing your judgements on how weak or illogical my world is." So save the questions, if that's the aim.

"We keep extensive reports in the Guard post." Apparently he hasn't read any of them. Maketh resists the urge to take that personally. Her reports are impeccable. "There hasn't been time to transcribe them to the network yet."

She hates relying on these phones, but it's the only technology they have. Adapt, soldier.

The last part gives her pause. Maketh stares at him for a long moment. His word doesn't--? Impossible. Yet--

Well.

She grimaces. Looks away.

"I would have liked to have seen such a world. Regardless, that is not the case here. Get one of the Guardsmen to train you. Henry is the best. But if you wish to use a blade, Ikaruga's style would be better suited to you. It requires less brute strength."

Lance, of course, doesn't really go to the Guard post. The last thing he really wants to do is accidentally run into Maketh, after all, although considering this encounter obviously he needs to expand that avoidance to a radius around the post too.

Lance feels a flash of sympathy for her when she says she wishes she could've seen a world like that, but it's gone pretty quickly at her next comments. He doesn't respond with anger or annoyance, but isn't fake-agreeable either. "Maketh, what is the goal you're trying to achieve here? I find it difficult to believe you're speaking out of concern."

He doesn't believe for a moment she cares they much about his safety, and also doesn't feel the need to inform her that he's actually entirely capable of using a weapon. He'll keep the extent of his skill in shooting to himself for now; if she thinks he occasionally carries the gun but isn't particularly practiced with it, then all the better.

"I don't want you to die."

It's said quite bluntly. She meets his eyes briefly. "You gun has a limited supply of ammunition. A blade is the more practical choice in this situation and you do not move like someone who has the proper training in that area."

The logic is impersonal. It's better that way, Maketh thinks. She holds herself very still, waiting for the verdict.

He sighs quietly, unconvinced, and shifts his weight to his uninjured leg since he feels like they're going to be talking a bit.

There are several things he wants to say in response to her first comment, but refrains. They won't help, and he doesn't like how this conversation is turned toward him, so he focuses on the latter part of what she said. "If I feel the need to learn an additional method of self-defense, I'll do so."

He's already spoken with Ikaruga, after all, although he doesn't care for Maketh to know that. And, in an attempt to regain control of the conversation, "The armoury doesn't have anything for modern weapons, right? Which is why ammunition is an issue?"

There's a sharpness to his tone that Maketh can't place, like something she's suggested is unreasonable or wrong, though not in a way he's inclined to explain. She pushed that aside and stands up a little straighter. If she's lost his respect, then at least her stance will be perfect. "Correct. Rage will trade corpses for bullets, but that system is ineffective. Thus far none of us have the skill to manufacture them directly."

"Really?" Lance finds that surprising, honestly, considering what he has seen built and put together in this place. "It isn't that complicated to make bullets."

He's no expert in the subject, but he did read a whole lot of information on how Broadsky made his own custom bullets while investigating that case. Making the moulds might be a little difficult, depending, but they already have bullets to work with; the gunpowder would be another issue, but again there are multiple methods and individual parts might be easier to trade for than completed bullets. Besides, if Maketh's been making bombs or other explosives like she's said she trades with people, then that issue might already be taken care of depending on the type of bomb it is.

"It's not?"

Maketh clears her throat. She assumed--

Well, clearly she assumed incorrectly.

"You know a way of manufacturing gunpowder. I see. Will you explain this to my Guardsmen?"

Not to her. Maketh knows her place.

He hesitates at the question, suddenly very unsure about this topic.

"I'm not a chemist. I know how it's done, but not exact details about proportions." Sure, he knows enough that he could probably get it, but he's not exactly interested in experimenting with explosives.

Lance is also not sure about agreeing to explain to the Guard members, but he likes the one he knows well enough so far so perhaps it'd be okay.

"You said it was not difficult."

The Guard is properly motivated. Hux, surely, can determine the correct formula. Maketh holds herself very still. If Sweets knows information that useful, then she needs to determine a way to convince him to share it. Threats won't work. He's proven that already. Threats will likely make things worse.

"You will do this?" She's careful not to look at him this time, but rather the place behind his shoulder. Exactly as protocol dictates. "Nick would understand it. Or Henry could take notes."

"Theoretically, it isn't. I have two coworkers I think could make it without too much trouble." Hodgins and Booth could both surely manage it, and he really wishes they were here despite the dangers. He misses them a lot.

...And she's staring past him, not making eye contact, which makes him suspicious. "I could potentially talk to Nick." He likes Nick, at least from the conversation they'd had and what he's seen of him on the network. But that said, he's really starting to think this might not be a good idea.

Good, he'll speak to Nick. Nick can work with Rey and develop a proper procedure and they'll have more bullets. A proper supply of ammunition, one less thing forcing them to rely upon the gods for. Maketh keeps her eyes straight ahead and nods just once. "That would grant us additional resources. The Guard would be thankful for your aid."

Don't get ahead of yourself there, Maketh. Lance is frowning a little now, posture a bit more tense, because he's really concerned he might've made a mistake at this point.

"I presume these additional resources would only be used for the Guard?" He asks it neutrally, trying not to give away in his voice which answer he's looking for in response.

Maketh forces herself not to twitch. She doesn't like his tone, isn't sure what he's implying or what she's meant to say. The truth hasn't always served her well on these conversations. "They'd go to the armory. Anyone can access them. The Guard uses them more than most for our duties."

He's not sure he believes that, and even if he does is he really interested in helping supply people here with more weapons? Of course, on the other hand they can already deak with one of the gods, but didn't Maketh say that requires trading a corpse? That's not necessarily something he wants anyone to do, and if he could prevent that sort of violence then maybe he should.

But then again, preventing violence by offering more access to weapons doesn't exactly make sense. He'll have to weigh the options later, not on the spot. "I'll think about speaking with Nick." That's all he'll promise for now.

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