07.17.3013: Fairy Princess
Summary: Niko and Rebecca run into each other while shopping. He offers some help with her daughter's first birthday.
Date: 17 July 2013
Related: None
Nikomachos Rebecca 

Terrace of Anastasius — Phylon, The Vale
This is one of the topmost terraces of the city of Phylon, accessed easily by the bullet lifts that run up and down the base of the Fortress or from the lower levels of the city from the various rampways. The sprawling space is cobbled in smooth stone with knee-high parapets framing in the terrace. Horse and crawler car traffic is steady here as people journey up to the Ways and Coliseum above or to the Marketplace to the South. There are small hubs of stone benches and raised flower beds that are filled with multi-colored blooms most of the year. One of the many public stables can be found here where Nobles and Citizens alike can house their horses.
17 July 3013

Nikomachos glances over to the woman, offering up a faintly-crooked grin to the tall woman, "They do wonderful work." His right hand gestures up toward his vest just as a wash of electronic fire sweeps across the metallic blue leather, "This is their work." Gesturing to the window, he tilts his head to one side, "Which one is it that you're looking at, Miss?"

Rebecca turns and realizes who is speaking to her. She quickly inclines her head in greeting. "Lord Nikomachos. Sergeant Rebecca Mordain, of the Rovehn military. I, ah, was just looking at that one for my daughter. She turns one next month." She gestures at the party dress.

Nikomachos waves the title off with a dismissive gesture of one hand, "Niko, or Sir Niko if you must, Sergeant. Anyone who is doing such noble service for the Vale can forego the whole mouthful of a name." A touch of laughter lifts his words, although he sobers a touch at the mention of her daughter, his eyebrows lifting, "Delightful. What plans do you have for her birthday?" His left hand gestures back towards the window, "Besides the possibility of a lovely party dress, of course."

"A cake, and some toys, and a few friends over. She's only one and finances are a bit tight since her father," Rebecca lets that trail off with a grimace. "He's no longer with us." She refuses to say died. There is still some small hope that he's still out there, somewhere, alive.

Nikomachos nods his head at the first statement, "It sounds delightful, Sergeant. Sometimes, the small celebrations are the best." Of course, his father and mother-in-law-to-be are planning a rather extreme celebration rather soon. The news that follows causes him to grimace, but he nods, "I'm afraid that may become a very common theme. But at least he left you a with a beautiful baby girl."

"He did, and I'm grateful for it," Rebecca notes. "And congratulations. Big day for you coming up, hm?" she asks.

Nikomachos nods his head, laughing softly, "Now are you referring to the second wave of the Hostiles arriving, Sergeant Mordain, or my upcoming nuptials?" He has a light, easy laugh, and he waves it off, "Come on inside, you can see the dresses much better from within the shop." He gestures for her to proceed him, holding open the door for her as well, "But thank you, I'm quite excited."

Rebecca heads into the shop, though she can already feel her pocketbook wincing. She's dressed casually, breeches, blouse, vest, with her hair in a braid. Nothing on her is fancy like what's inside. She looks around with wide eyes and swallows when she examines a price tag or two. "Either or. Marriage is its own sort of war. A war of heart and mind. Surrendering part of yourself to another. This is a love match I'm guessing?"

Nikomachos is fancy enough for the both of them. He steps around a rack of clothing, plucking at a sleeveless jerkin. As the colors shift from a rich purple to… a virulent green, he drops it quickly, shaking his head and drawing back with an inarticulate sound of disgust. Looking back to Rebecca, he shrugs one shoulder, "Well, when you have a half-Khourni, half-Sauveur betrothed, war is to be expected." He nods his head in response to the final question, "Indeed, it is. A rather sudden one, but a love match indeed."

"Those make me happy," Rebecca says with a small smile. "I always feel bad for the political matches. Though I suppose they have their benefits in their own way. Will you be looking to have children right away? Or waiting a while?" she asks. Hey, he's the one who went all informal on her, she's going to ask awkward questions.

Nikomachos shrugs slightly, "They work out well enough in many cases. Father and Mother are a political match, and are quite…" his mouth quirks up at one corner, "…pleasant with one another." Laughing lightly, he picks out a dress of green and white, pulling it off the rack to hold it out to show to Rebecca. Amazingly, it's even one of the cheaper dresses, at least on that rack. "And that… that will be an interesting discussion. Ellie is quite dedicated to staying on the front lines, and I would not take that away from her."

"I'd figure people of your standing would have access to make your babies outside of a womb," Rebecca notes with a brow arching. "So she could still go about beating Hostiles to death while your baby grew in a lab somewhere. Not terribly romantic, but you'd still be doing your duty or whatnot." She grins slightly. She looks at the dress and fingers it lightly. "Sophia would look beautiful in that. She has my hair color. She looks like her father though."

Nikomachos laughs easily, "Oh no. Not even a Cindravale…" he stops, pondering that, then laughs again, "…or a Sauveur, I suppose, has access to that sort of technology. Oh, we could find a surrogate, or perhaps simply wait for a while until we've battered down the Hostiles to a manageable level." He seems rather confident that this will be accomplished in a reasonable amount of time, "Certainly, she's lucky to have that hair. I must admit to being rather partial to fiery hair." He smiles in a self-deprecating manner, "You might say it's my weakness."

"The Hostiles were here for forty years, last time, Sir Niko. I'm not sure your lovely wife will be fertile before we get them to a manageable level," Rebecca points out with a small chuckle. "It was Ioan's weakness to. He always said he couldn't argue with a beautiful redhead."

Nikomachos shakes his head, "Ahh… but we didn't have heroes such as us on the front lines in the last System War. I think we can probably manage in ten or twelve." His lips purse as he tries to smother a laugh, "Or, it will be an argument that I have with a beautiful redhead."

Rebecca laughs lightly at that and she moves to look at a pretty little blue dress for Sophia. It's gorgeous, and fancy, and she drops the tag like a hot potato when she gets a gander at the price. "Six! What is this made of, platinum?" she mutters.

Nikomachos tilts his head to look over the Sergeant's shoulder and study the material, "The electro-filaments are particularly fine on that one. You can program it to, well…" and again, he gestures to his vest in the wake of another wash of pseudo-flame, "The finer the filaments and the more processing power, the more expensive it gets. That one is…" his head tilts to one side as he considers, "…about two thirds of the price of some of the clothes here."

"I just want her to look like a little fairy princess. She loves fairy stories. I tell them to her all the time," Rebecca notes. "But I can probably make her some wings from wire and a pair of colored nylons and some elastic, right? She's only a year old. She'll be busy mashing cake in her own face and probably mine, right?" She looks to Niko for some advice.

Nikomachos frowns thoughtfully for a moment, "If you can manage, you might borrow or rent a holoprojector from one of the theatre companies, Sergeant. They have small ones for special effects. Mount that on her back, find someone to program in the fairy wings, and they will stay with her no matter how much cake is mashed around." His smile returns as he adds, "I might have done something similar with my armor." In fact, if she's watched the last tournament or any of the after-action reports of the Valen cavalry, she's probably seen the fiery wings that accompany his strikes.

That has Rebecca staring at Niko in wonder. "I would love to do that, Sir Niko, but I think you are greatly overestimating the paycheck of a standard vassal military grunt," she quips with a chuckle. She finds the green dress from the window and winces a little at the price, but it's not as bad as the blue one was. She can probably manage it if she tightens her belt for a few weeks.

Nikomachos shakes his head, chuckling, "Let me talk to my friend at the Grand. He's the one who found me the holoprojectors I use. If you're just borrowing them, and promise to clean all the cake off, I'm sure it won't be a problem." Well, he certainly isn't lacking confidence. Or perhaps it's just that the theatre man knows that Niko is good for any damages that occur. "Just tell me what day you'll need it, and I'll have it waiting for you at the Grand."

"August the second," Rebecca murmurs, blinking at him owlishly. "You would do that? You don't even know me, Milord," she stammers.

Nikomachos flashes a bright grin that adds a certain vibrancy to his usually generic good looks, "You're putting your life on the line for the people of the Vale, Sergeant. The least I can do is help make sure your daughter has a good birthday."

Rebecca turns almost as scarlet as her hair. "Thank you," she says sincerely. "That means a lot to me, Sir Niko. Sophia will be ecstatic." She clutches the green dress in her arms so she can pay for it at the counter.

Nikomachos lifts his brows slightly, giving his youthful features a serious look for a moment, "Seriously. Thank you. Despite the threat to Haven, an amazingly small number of people are standing between the Hostile and the Citizenry." And then the smile is back, "August the second. Ask for Mister Geheym at the Grand Theatre. I'll make sure that he has a projector ready for you, although I'm sure he'll give you a hard time about getting in back in time for the show the next day. And take some photos of the party, those memories last beyond a lifetime." By then, however, he's already backing up, starting to withdraw from the conversation.

Rebecca dips her head in a nod. "Mister Geheym at the Grand. I have it. Thank you, again." She turns, still blushing, to have the cashier ring up the pretty dress for the little girl.

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