01.19.3014: Agnes Vigil - Brigham
Summary: Brigham visits Agnes in her vigil the eve before her wedding.
Date: 08 November 2013
Related: None.
Agnes Brigham 

Vigil Room - Arboren Chantry
See log.
19 January 3014

Agnes is set up in a small room in the Arboren Chantry. She is seated in a comfortable chair, with two chairs nearby for guests. There are candles to light in each of 6 small niches, one for each god, though her attire seems to be a nod to the maid and the mother on the eve of her wedding. She's in a flowing, simple gown in pure white, to symbolize the rebirth into a new life with the joining of her own to Jarek's.

Brigham stomps into the room completely lacking any respect or decorum for the holy place… but then that's no surprise. "Aunt Aggie?" he asks, eyeing her, then stopping dead in his tracks, "You look weird." he states flatly, "Put your armor back on. This thing is creeping me out." he waves a hand at her current more Lady Like clothing. "It's wrong. Unnatural." he continues to frown as he approaches, carrying a small satchel with him. Oddly, this time it neither clinks nor clanks nor clunks with tools and what not that usually come with him everywhere.

Agnes looks up at her nephew and smiles, a gentle expression on a face that looks unnervingly relaxed. "It's custom, Brigham. And I find it all very peaceful. I thought as a bride I'd be a nervous wreck." She gestures towards the other chairs. "Have a seat. Nothing in there is going to explode, is it?" she asks, only half-joking.

Brigham shrugs, "I promise nothing." which is his usual answer to the question since he was eight and his attempt at reworking the stove in the kitchen to be more efficient ended in tradgety and three weeks of cold meals for the entire household. It's best not to make promises you can't keep. He plops down in the chair next to his aunt and pushes his hat back up on his head a bit before opening the satchel and plopping it right in her lap, "Thought you might be hungry." he says, and from inside wafts the completely delicious but slightly incongruous smells of fresh backed bread (kinda bannanay?), what seems like a full pheasent still slightly greasey and hot if the inside of it's container is any indication, a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich now thuroughly smooshed into goo, something that looks like it once was pie but was put in a bag and is now more of a cobbler at best, a half eaten corn dog (someone got the munchies on the way here), and a flask from Mott's with a stamp on it that suggests it's insides are delicious, slightly burny when swallowed, and is warm to the touch as it was a heated drink. His feet swing lazily as his legs are /just/ to short to touch the floor, and he looks around the room idly while she sifts throught he bags contents. "Careful, I think the cranberry sauce leaked out, might stain your dress." there was cranberry sauce in there? Maybe she should keep digging.

Oh lord, Agnes carefully begins excavating the bag of food, setting each item carefully on a platter on the small table in there with her. "That was very thoughtful of you, Brigham. I am feeling a little peckish." She's used to hard tack on the road on patrols, smooshed sandwiches and greasy pheasant are fine by her. She starts with the bread as it's probably safest. "So any advice to your dear old Aunt before her wedding?"

Brigham shrugs his shoulders, "Have him neutered before hand? We've long since learned that castration in overly aggresive male animals causes a distinct lack of future violent or aggresive behavior creating a more docile and easily controlled beast. While I suspect you will not be riding him into battle or the like, I think perhaps your home life will be simpler this way. I can provide you with a syringe if you like, single dose, just poke him in the leg while he sleeps or whatever, it'll do the rest for you."

"That would be counterproductive, Brigham, as he is a House Heir and we need to have children to carry on the line," Agnes murmurs with a chuckle. She hands him half the bread, since he already nommed the corn dog she assumes he's hungry too. "When did you eat last?" she asks.

Brigham shrugs, "Not counter productive. Get me a sample before hand, you can still produce an heir… Or I could and then just stuff it in you." he points out, "See? Solving problems before they arise. That's what I do." he beams at her proudly. He takes the bread without comment and stuffs an overly large chunk into his mouth, causes his cheek to puff out while he speaks in a now banana-bread-muffle, "Monday." he says, then blinks, "It's Tuesday right? Pretty sure."

"I like Jarek just the way he is, nephew, but thank you for the offer regardless." Agnes seems amused. "And no, it's not Tuesday. So help me eat this. I can't possibly eat it all," she encourages.

Brigham obviously needs little encouragement as the corndog and now mostly missing bread can attest, "You sure? I can change him you know." he swallows with a sound that's audible like someond dropping a rock into an empty room. Thud. "Hair color, eyes, less hair, more, I'm not completely there yet but gimme a few years and I might be able to program his brain to get rid of any stupid idiot stuff he does that annoys you. I just wanna help." by genetically or cybernetically or whateverly altering her fiance. Brigham never wants to help with the decorations, just the scary stuff. But he does mean well… in his own way.

"Worry less about Jarek, more about stopping this war before my grandchildren wind up fighting it, hm?" Agnes hands him the PB&J and plucks some of the pheasant off the bone to nibble on it. "We're going on a drake hunt after the ceremony. Should be exciting. A little one. Wouldn't be a good thing to have our guests eaten."

Brigham nods his head as he opens the bag and pulls out the mooshy sandwhich without a care about it's condition, "I'm working on that. Was working on armor improvements, was going to work with an Engineer, Valta, try to work out some tech stuff on how to make superheavy armor as responsive as defender series. I'm /right/ on the cusp but…" he looks frustrated. "So I did some out sourcing, needed fresh eyes. Ass hat took me research and started spreading it all over Haven, letting any two bit retard with a degree horn in on my work." he sounds angry about this, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I havn't decided on a fitting punishment yet. I'll think of something." ohthatsoundsbad, "But! I am working on stuff. Got those patents through on the stealth fabric I made. Gotta figure out how to make it into a suit, but it's a start. Father was happy, finally got another patent in that looks like it could turn a profit, I think he was starting to despair."

"He stole your research and is passing it off as his own?" Agnes asks with a frown creasing her brow. "Do I need to sick some squires on him?"

Brigham waves a hand, "Not sure if he's passing it off as anyones, he could just be saying 'look what I have we should make this better' and not giving credit to anyone. That way he can't be in trouble with the courts because he didn't /technically/ claim it was his. I've heard of it happening before at the Academ. And no. He's rich and powerful and smart. Your squires wouldn't fair well. But that's okay. I'll think of something fitting. Promise."

"If you need my help, just ask. My husband-to-be will be the ruler of House Saimhann, and if this scientist is not an heir himself, we may be able to hold some sway with his House heir or High Lord Jevon Khournas." Agnes smiles. "I'm proud of you, Brigham. You work very hard."

Brigham blinks at her, "That sounds like a lot of effort. Why don't I just blow up all of his manufacturing facilities or hack his building drones to make them all do choreography instead of making things until his production crawls to a halt and he loses all his market share and falls into bankrupcy?" he asks hopfully. "I mean, it would be so much easier." also insane.

"That would hurt innocents, Brigham. Don't do anything like that please," Agnes requests. She moves to light a candle in the Sage's niche for her nephew to gain some wisdom in a social sense.

Brigham shakes his head, "I would set off an alarm, make the people evacuate first. I'm not a monster you know." admitedly his original plans didn't call for that, but he can alter them. It does make sense after all, those people didn't do anything to him. No reason they should suffer. He continues to eat the moosh sandwhich as he thinks, "So what do I do? Let him just run amok? He's already spread the research, at this poitn there's no way to get it all back, it's been copied and shared with half the idiots in the system, any work I could have done that would have been proprietary and helpful to us is now useless. Father will be irrate." he seems to deflate a little at this realization.

"Those people would be out of jobs, Brigham, think deeper on it. The repercussions go further than you've considered," Agnes points out. "It would be better to discredit him non-violently, and publically, so that others are warned and won't work with him."

Brigham tilts his head to the side, "Fine." he admits, "But that will not actually cause him any pain, merely embarassment. What about his legs? I mean he doesn't /need/ those, he can get a chair or what have you right? Maybe some replacement bits? I could take his legs. Oooo. His hands. Hands are good." he shoots Agnes a look out of the corner of his eye, a fertive thing, then sighs again, "FINE!" she doesn't even have to say anything, he can see it, "No body parts. No offence Aunt Aggie, but you suck at vengence. In all the stories you can just go and kill a guy who did something underhanded and people are happy for you."

"That's why they are just stories, Brigham. Fantasies, fiction. The real world is more complicated, messier, and there are consequences for actions," Agnes says softly. "The best way to live, is to cause as little harm to others as possible, while finding your own happiness. Justice doesn't require violence to serve it. I am a knight, but combat is a last resort, always, even for me."

Brigham snorts, "Apparently there aren't consequences for asshats that take your ideas and share them with the whole damned species." he points out, "And hey, it's not like I spent any time or effort getting all of that work done right? I mean sure, no big deal. I havn't been breaking down any barriers or cracking open new science or anything. Cause I mean imagine my chagrin if I'd inadvertently snuck a peek at something super valuable and helpful and then just, you know, gave it away. That would be monumentally stupid right?" he eyes what's left of the sandwhich and stuffs it back in the bag, apparently having lost his appetite. "Meh. Hell with it. This is all stupid stuff. You're getting married, we're supposed to be happy for you or something." he shoots her a look, "So how long until you have babies? I've started some designs for a crib and some educational toys. I mean I can't stand babies, but they should get a jumpstart on their education, soon as possible. You learn more in the first 5 years of your life then in the remaining 70, if we get them going on maths early they'll be way ahead of the curve. Oo! I'll record some lectures for you to listen to while you're pregnant!" from depressed angry Brigham to excited happy in 2.1 seconds.

"Whenever the gods see fit to give them to me, Brigham. I'll carry the first myself, but after that I'll use a surrogate so I can get back on the field," Agnes admits. "But send those lectures, certainly. Now, go get some sleep and a real meal."

Brigham nods his head at her, "Naw, I'm not hungry." he says even as he reaches out to snag up the other half of the corn dog, "I need to start with algebraic lectures, which means I need to go find my fourth grade notes and freshen up a bit. Gonna be hard to keep on track ya know!" cause he tends to ramble when it comes to maths. He starts to hum to himself, leaving his aunt with a lap full of food (mostly in tact) and the knowledge that Brigham has considered and potentially planned acts of terrorism against another House over inappropriately used research materials. Oh sure, his visit was totally stress free and calming. Oh yeah. And he's making a crib for her babies. Now /thats/ terrifying.

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