"What is best in life?" The query rang, odd to request such a thing of someone offering a ride, and yet Lucania felt she should know the answer to his riddle...
Is he quoting Conan the Barbarian?
Was this man Forsaken? Lucania's mind immediately went to the quote from the Old World movie she had seen as a child, the one that reminded her today of the culture of the black flagged barbarians. The man before her appeared far too serious to be referencing some 300 year old piece of fiction, and if he really was Forsaken he'd have already killed her; but as Lucania wracked her brain, she couldn't think of a better answer. But maybe that was the point? That there was no set answer? Or maybe...
Lucania asked herself what she found to be best in life, and to her surprise, or perhaps her horror, that she really couldn't answer the question. Lucania knew what she wanted... but what was... best? The opposite of what was worst?
What is worst in life, then?
That was easier for her to answer, she was feeling it right now, pulsing fresh through her veins-- she had felt it all year, ever since Salem got killed, ever since her mother left her. The worst thing in life, was to be alone.
So then was what was best to not be alone? It would seem so-- when the fear forced her into firing her gun, she hadn't lashed out because of some desire for self-preservation, she fired because she didn't want to lose someone else. She hadn't lied when she told Vladimira that she didn't fear death-- death would be easy when it came for her. What she feared, was being alone.
The man was still standing there, waiting patiently. Despite the horde of death that approached.
"I don't..." Lucania cleared her throat, "I'm not sure of the answer you're looking for, sir, but for me, the best thing in life is to not be alone, to have someone you care about..." She trailed off as Nui whispered in her ear, eyes widening in realization, "Oh! And to share a drink with that person, that you care about."
The man's furrowed face broke into an almost grandfatherly smile. "Well that's okay ma'am, I don't know the answer neither, and maybe you're right about it being someone you care about. Either way I reckon' we'll find somethin akin to the truth by the time we get away from this swarm." Putting his hand to the door, the man unlocked the car and pulled opened the door. Climbing in past the woman he left the scent of worked leather, oak and some sort of musk as he half-lumbered through the deceptively spacious interior until he was opposite of the two ladies. Putting his pack to the side, the man said, "It is only at this time that I realize that I have not revealed my identity to you, despite your hospitable inclinations. Allow me to introduce m'self. My name is Roland Chambers. And you are?"
"Lucania Castalia, very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Chambers." She extended a dainty hand to his, the timing of the gesture had become a well rehearsed formality by now, but one she tried to keep personal, still. "And this--"
"Prime Minister Castalia." Nui interjected.
"Yes..." Lucania placed an arm around the woman, "This is Nui Miller, my meticulous secretary, certain to never forget any detail other might think it best to keep silent about!" She gestured to the black separator, "And those three in front, are some of my employees who were apparently unable to see you despite being hired for vigilance and professionalism. They might not remain employees of mine for very long..."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't hold it against them too much, miss Castalia. As you can see by my attire, I tend to blend in with the local country side, let alone in weather like this." replied Roland as he shook her hand firmly, his own covered hand still covered in bits of sand.
Lucania closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Right-- she needed to calm down-- find her center and all that Aqueon meditation nonsense. Or rather, sense. She needed to remember to breathe. It wasn't their fault she overrated. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Chambers... I'm afraid I just find myself distraught over this whole incident. I should be thankful it didn't turn out much worse than it did!" Two eyes, both gold in dissonant way, glittered with interest as they flicked from the well-built, sandy man to the warped metal he had been able pierce through in the ceiling of her limo, with only his hands.
Both the man and the disfigured claw marks were artifacts out of place in the company of the polished ebony, sliver laced midnight leather and ornate glass bottles of the once silent, now whistling limo. "Although, I suppose it should be said that you owe your thanks entirely to your own abilities. Not everyone can jump over a speeding car an You certainly seem capable of taking care of yourself, Roland." This piqued Lucania, it seemed she had stumbled upon a man, Immortal, and completely out of place.
While Lucania spoke, Nui busied herself with preparing drinks for the group. Remembering that it is, in fact, the best thing in life to share a drink with a friend. The beverages, housed in exquisite glasses-- apparently a gift from the mayor of Dead-End-- were a blend of classical green tea, absinthe, honey, and cream. They were green, warm, tinged an almost lime green, and deceptively sweet. Whereas Lucania only seemed to be interest in the man's ability to survive, Nui found herself more suspicious of why he was out here surviving.
As she passed a glass to Roland, the demure woman spoke up; "Yes, Mr. Chambers-- I hate to be the one to pry, but it does beg the question; What drives a man who can rip metal like tissue all the way out here? Seemingly wandering aimlessly in solitude?"
Roland took the glass with a slight nod as he replied smoothly, "Well to be frank, miss Miller, I have a history of poor decision making and through the process have found that there are many who are inclined to do me in." Sipping the drink, the nomad nearly choked on the stuff. His main diet these last couple of weeks was cactus water and scorpion meat, it seemed that in the process of dulling his palate it had left him vulnerable to things that were less bitter than dirt. And so, he turned his near grimace into a surprisingly intact smile. It was at this time Roland couldn't help but reflect on select individuals in his past; the kind who would question why he would take a drink from someone so vehemently against him; against people who had already been willing to shoot at him. If those people were still alive he'd inform them that when the world wants you dead, you'll be dead be it a hallow, desperado or even a fruity drink.
In reality when the woman cracked the window Roland had got a good look at her gleaming gold eye, and a wiff of the gunpowder that still clung to her. Seeing the dents in the ceilings where the bullets ricocheted into the cushions Roland decided that these women were prideful; prideful enough where they wouldn't slip some poison into his drink after such an asinine display of firearm safety. But then again, anyone with a ride this schway was bound to have Machiavellian machinations. Well if it was poisoned at least he would have the taste of desert roach out of his mouth when he kicked the bucket.
Roland leaned forward and shifted his attention to Luciana. "As for my high survivability rate, I must admit that goes beyond my own status as an immortal something that just about everyone in this car can understand- and could very easily be chalked up to dumb luck- or even a god of some sort. Tell me. Are either of you ladies the religious type?" It was no point denying the hollow in the room, nearly all of them -possibly even the secratary- were Immortal. Roland wasn't concerned though. It wasn't that he was so confident that he could kill them all if need be, he just believed that there may be some sense of fellowship between fellow lepers, and even if that panned out, he knew he could always tear the lid of this ponced up tin can and get away if it really came down to it. Not that he had wanted it to; between the sweet drink and reclining back on something other than a pile of sand, Roland had very nearly reached Nirvana. Well, at the very least he was at the Arhat.
"Shengriantist-Atheist, born and raised." Nui spoke on the topic with little enthusiasm, as she raised her glass to take another sip of her beverage she gestured to Lucania, "She's the religious one-- if I've ever seen one!"
Lucania giggled as she blew away steam from her drink, "I don't claim to be the most pious, nor am I fool enough to believe I know what God is doing, or if he is even concerned with human affairs after the rapture..." She took a sip of the warm beverage, and with the alcohol hitting her system, she found her nerves being slowly eased, "But to answer your question, yes; I've been a New World Catholic before I could speak. I'm actually one of the principle donors at the First Church of Laguna and I've been attending services since I was young... Which," She sighed, "Was probably a fair bit more than I can make it there now..."
Nui chirped in, "She being modest!" The absinthe in what was probably her third glass was beginning to wear on her ability to regulate her volume, "She drags me to Mass every Wednesday!"
"It's not every Wednesday," Lucania retorted, going a little red in the cheeks, "And even if it was, it's important to maintain the tradition!"
The divider rolled own behind Roland's head, "She's right!!" Octavia chimed in voice of a small child, "You do go to confession a bunch, Missus Lucania!"
Roland winced at the volume that came squeaking out behind him. It was funny how he wouldn't bat an eye at a hail of gunfire, yet this jubilant girl had nearly sent him reeling. Perhaps this drink was stronger than he thought. His knee-jerk reaction was to punch a hole through her face. The Other reminded him that wasn't how he was anymore. "I reckon' tradition has its parts in this world of ours, but do you go out of obligation or is it out of belief?"
"Both." She answered without hesitation, "Belief comes first, but with that belief... that faith, you become obliged to immerse yourself in tradition. That tradition, whatever it may be, can be something that provides you with strength when you have nothing left, I think." Lucania looked in the glass as the green water swirled about, "If I wanted to frame it in a faux-philosophical manner-- and apparently I do-- I'd just say that belief is an obligation." In the silence that followed, Lucania found herself looking back at her guest, head quirked, "Why do you ask? Are you very religious, Mr. Chambers?"
Roland raised a hand in a placating manner, staving off her question. " I'll answer that soon enough if it isn't answered already, but I'm a simple man, and as such have trouble with framing my question in the proper manner, although I have learned something new already. For the purposes of this conversation, lets try n' and stay in the empirical world. Do you believe, because of those before you that told you to believe? Or did you read in the book and upon reflection, found that it eased that burden that you carry on your shoulders? Do you believe due to another's choice or your own?"
With this question, Lucania had to think for a moment. It didn't go so far as to make her question her faith, but it did make her question something she hadn't given much thought prior to the question that Roland-- as he put it 'the simple man'-- posed to her. She had felt God's presence, the entire world had in the rapture 300 years ago, and she continued to find truth in his teachings where those before her-- those of the Old World-- had not.
Nui's eye shot nervously between the pair. She'd seen Lucania lost in thought before, the woman loved being absorbed in a good thought. She knew that long ago as a Wintergold employee, and she'd learned it even more in becoming her boss' significant other. What was giving Nui cause to worry was how...
... She averted her eyes from the pair toward the ground...
... Intense it all seemed. Sure, they were but a few questions, but there seemed to be some greater mental sparring going on here that was flying straight over Nui's head. She had known Lucania was an intelligent woman, probably smarter than she'd ever be. But this whole encounter... picking up this guy in the desert, he was just... just wandering the desert... not 5 miles away from a swarm of horrid black devils... and he can grip through reinforced steel and jump... and then he just starts asking questions!? He asked Lucania a question before he'd even get in the limo!
Nui chanced a sidelong glance at the man. What was his deal anyway? He's in the Dead-End outback because he's got enemies? What kind of enemies? Nui's eye narrowed as she looked back down. She just didn't get it. The small woman found herself sinking into the abyss of the leather seat stained with bullet holes, she kind of wanted to disappear.
This conversation was weird and for some reason, made Nui feel scarred-- or rather, incredibly unnerved. She'd have shared her feelings with Lucania, but in her years of knowing the woman, she knew never to interrupt her when she was doing the weird thing where she closed her eyes and kind of smirked as she thought. Interrupting Lucania as she went into that trance was a surefire way to lose your eardrums. Instead, Nui meekly sat by, and downed another green-tea/absinthe-bomb, she'd picked the concoction up during her time interning in Gate's Pass before the who place got locked down.
A phantom of a grin stretched across her face as the warmth of the beverage hit her system. She really loved the name of this concoction; the Sea-sick Asian Artist. An apt name, if a bit of a mouthful-- given her propensity for car sickness whenever she found herself offroad amidst the sand seas of Dust.
It's abbreviation was even more apropos, since after a few cups 'Ssaaa' would be all you could say. Yui looked into her one eyed reflection in the glass and simultaneously burped, hiccuped, and leered.
Lucania opened her eyes with a breath. "I will say that; While I do believe of my own volition...." She remembered in brief the instances where she would go to church with her mother and father-- that Judas of a man-- but he was the one to introduce her to the faith. He may have betrayed her as a father, but as a Shepard, he had led her to the flock. "... I was guided into the faith by family and tradition, but through that guidance from tradition I found God on my own terms." She cracked a smirk, "As cliche as that may sound."
"Cliches have to come from somethin." Roland noted. "But New World Christianity leaves me feelin'....itchy. I don't mean to be disrespectin yer religion, it's just that I remember this line about how when the rapture comes the meek will inherit the Earth, which don't seem to the situation we're in. Unless..." Roland answered himself, "Unless we consider that power is not the same thing as strength. But I think for the time being, my curiosity has been sated."
"I wouldn't mind indulging your curiosity again, should it's satiation prove itself a temporary lull, Mr. Chambers." She beamed at the man, "Very rarely do I find the opportunity to discuss these matters with anyone outside the church."
"Hey! My parents were like, super religious mills! I'm great at talking about the meek!" Octavia squaked again, "You could always talk to me, boss!!"
"Could she?--"
"Could I?" Lucania and Carmela deadpanned to the excited purple girl at the same time. And as a silence was shared between the three, Octavia's purple grin dimmed slightly, as the dividor between the back and front of the limo silently went up.
Lucania downed the rest of her glass of Ssaa, muttering to no one in particular, "She's just like my sister." Looking down in the glass, she realized there was no distorted reflection to remind her that the smirk she'd perfected in faking had become a frown.
She was left with that strange, whistling silence.
kapuchu
