01.12.3014: Pure Intention, Juxtaposed
Summary: Victor continues his interrogation of the Hostile Captive.
Date: 6 November 2013
Related: All of Sarah's logs.
Victor Sarah 


A Cell, a Watch House in Landing
Should be throughout the opening poses.
January 12, 3014

Victor has had a small datapad with a single file on it cleared through security. Unlike some, he doesn't move toward the chair outside the energy field. Instead, he makes his way straight into the cell, the field being let down just long enough for him to pass through the entry, dragging the chair with him. "Morning, Hostie." A smirk touches his lips, and the screech of the dragging chair ceases in time for him to turn it around and sit down with his legs straddling the chair-back.

"Good morning, Victor Khournas," Sarah replies once the large Havenite as settled in. The Cantosan woman is seated on the edge of her single-wide bed, feet flat on the floor and elbows perched on the soft muscle of her thighs. She does not look up from her current task, which is meticulously folding what had once been a neat square of thin paper. Her cybernetic fingers take to the fine motor task without much effort, moving with the same precision as if they had been flesh and blood. Each fold produces a neat geometric shape, though the final product remains unknown. Her luminous blue eyes look up toward him just briefly before they drop their focus back down to the task at hand.

Victor looks down at the paper being folded, studying it for a moment, "Didn't even have to access the old memory banks. Must've made an impression." His lips curl into a smirk as he crosses his arms over the back of the chair, "How sick of questions are you?" And then his smirk grows deeper, "'Cause I got some more for you." At least he doesn't make any bones about what he's here for.

"It is a fine motor exercise," Sarah says in a flat, informative voice. "I have been a well-behaved captive of the Inner Worlders that I have been rewarded." She lifts her blue eyes toward him now, luminous orbs settling easily on the broad Havenite. "With paper… and that." She nods her chin toward the compact treadmill that is pushed up against the back wall. "As the Doctor has said… idle hands are your Devil's playthings." She doesn't reply to his jabbing question but instead continues to focus on her geometric folding. After a length of silence, the Cantosan nods her chin. "Ask."

Victor chuckles from low in his barrel chest, "Yeah. Model captive. Except for being a Hostie and waiting for an opportunity to break out and kill anyone you can on the way out." He lets the datapad dangle from his left hand, "Food worked last time. What are you lookin' for this time? How is it that you Hosties get rewarded? I mean, there's gotta be some reason you're so ready to come out here and kill the shit out of us."

"You would do no different if the tables were turned, Victor Khournas," Sarah says simply as she draws her forefinger and thumb sharply across her newest fold. She considers the four pointed star that she has created thus far, and then considers the Havenite who sits so calmly across from her. "I am a Soldier… that is why I so readily fight." She folds one of the points in a 45-degree angle across its neighbor before she continues. "But that is not what you are asking."

Victor shakes his head, "Nope. I'd already have tried to break out." He eyes the folded paper, "Or maybe you're tryin' to do that right now." He nods his acceptance of the point she makes, although he points over at her with two fingers as she continues, "Right. What I said, how do you get rewarded? What do you get when you're a good little Hostie and kill Havenites good…" His teeth flash very white against his skin, "…besides the opportunity to kill more Hosties and a warm feelin' in your heart. If you get those."

"My mind is mine," Sarah says, echoing words she had spoken to another Khournas who had been seated in that very chair not so long ago. Then she focuses on the next point of the star, also folding this over 45-degrees to match the other. She does not lift her gaze from her task as she answers the question. "My genetic heritage will ascend," she says simply. Though she does pause to lift her eyes to him even as her face remains tilted down toward her work. "It would make all of you feel at ease if you believed that we were incapable of affectionate emotion, I am certain."

Victor shakes his head, "No… I know you're capable of emotions. I've seen Hosties pissed as all hell. Figures that you'd be able to do soft and fuzzy too." Sucking idly at his teeth, he arches his eyebrows, "Your genetic heritage will ascend. Whatever the fuck that means. You get put in a tank somewhere and don't have to come off the shelf anymore? I'm not talkin' about the big thing. I'm talking about a pat on the head, a gold star. What do you get when you do somethin' little good?"

Sarah arches her brows ever so slightly over those luminous eyes, finally ceasing in her folding to regard the Havenite more fully. "To do… a little good… is to fulfill my role and uphold my duty." She then looks down at the remaining points on her star, and finally focuses on the third to fold it just as she has folded the others.

Victor grunts quietly, "Really? No good booze, no shiny weapon or armor, no nothin'? Well that's just boring as shit." The tablet taps lightly against the back of the chair as he thinks, the wheels visibly turning, "So what happens when you fuck up then? If you don't get anything but satisfaction for doin' your job well, and nothin' happens to you if you don't do your job, or do it badly, there's no reason to do it well, is there?"

"An individual's failures can amount to their exile," Sarah explains as she folds the final point. Then she flips the flat folded shape over so she can continue her task. "If an entire genetic coterie continues to fail, their genetic heritage will be removed entirely." She lifts her eyes toward his once more. "It is the greatest shame."

Victor nods his head slowly, "So if one of you fucks up, it's not the end of the world, but if a whole bunch of Sarahs fucked up… you all get killed, and there are no more Sarahs ever again." Grunting thoughtfully, he nods his head, "So do you have like… Sarah conventions to make sure none of you have fucked up?"

"No," Sarah says as she starts to expand out the shape into a three-dimensional box that contains an intricate pattern of geometric shapes. She balances it on the flat of her metallic palm, looking over it with a critical stare. She then looks up toward him. "Those of us who have not yet failed would continue… but there would be no more Sarahs, and there will be no hope for ascension." She carefully puts the box aside before she regards him fully now with her luminous stare.

Victor is silent for a long moment, processing the words of the Hostile. Eventually, he nods, "So if enough Sarahs fucked up, it wouldn't matter what the hell you did. Even if you escaped, blew up the Palace Towers, captured a Waygate, and… I don't know… convinced us all to cut our own throats," the cocky smirk on his lush lips suggests he thinks none of that is very likely, "you wouldn't get any sort of reward, because the other Sarahs fucked it up for all of you." And then his smile spreads across his lips, turning into a feral, toothy grin, "Sounds like you ain't so individual after all. You're just one of a hundred and fifty-eight part thing called Sarah."

"It is not in my abilities to convince an entire group of people to cut their own throats," Sarah says, pointing out the first flaw of his logic as she stares blankly across the gap at the Havenite. Even as he turns that cocky, feral grin on her, she remains absolute in her flat expression. "You are related to Nitrim Khournas, are you not?"

Victor blinks at that, surprised, and then he laughs. It's not a mocking laugh, it's not a harsh laugh. It's an honest expression of amusement. "Shit… he didn't try to hit on you, did he?" The words come between waves of laughter, and he shakes his head, getting his amusement slowly under control. "Yeah. I am. I haven't watched that recording. What'd he say that made you think we're related?"

"You both possess the surname of Khournas," the Cantosan woman says. "The Khournas family holds the capital city of the Southern Continent known as the Crescent… for its shape. Your banner displays two draconem flanking a hammer. You are one of the largest ruling families. You answer only to the Crown… a King," Sarah tilts her head ever so slightly. "What would happen if your family proved to be no longer suitable to hold your status within your hierarchy?"

Victor looks vaguely disappointed when it becomes clear she's just making a point, but he nods his head at the logic, "Someone else'd be raised to Paramount. We'd have to swear allegiance to them." Two fingers rise up to tap the center of his chest, "But I'd still be a knight. A noble. Only way that gets taken away from me is if I fuck up. It's something I earned." He glances back to the datapad, then looks back to the Hostile across the cell, "You were… taken outta the jar… whatever it is you want to call bein' born. Don't figure you were all there right away. Wouldn't be human to be coherent then. What's the first memory you have?"

"And I would still be a Soldier," Sarah replies in that flat alto, obviously equating her status easily with his. "The only way that gets taken away from me is if I, to use your words, fuck up." Then she folds her fingers together as she regards the Havenite across from him. "I was two Imperius years of age… I fell, suffered a broken shoulder… when was yours?"

Victor shakes his head, "But that's not somethin' you earned, is it?" He nods at the answer, then shrugs , turning his head slightly to show off the right side of his face, pointing up at his cheek with two fingers, "Back of Carron's hand. Don't remember why. Surprise, pain, the taste of blood. Anger." Crossing his forearms over the back of the chair again, he adds, "Broken shoulder doesn't feel very nice. What's your fondest memory?"

Sarah flicks her eyes toward where he indicates, and she tilts her head slightly. "Our first memories are not always the fondest," the Cantosan establishes, though this is only in the face of his own inquiry concerning fond memories. She flexes her left hand's fingers slowly, allowing a length of silence to pass between them. "The first time I saw the auroras."

Victor arches his eyebrows upwards, "Auroras? You get 'em over Fifth World? We get 'em over the poles." Leaning back slightly in his chair and catching his hands on the top of the ladder-back, "So. Family." Yes, he's jumping from topic to topic. Almost like he has a checklist, like the one on the datapad in his left hand, "You didn't list a designation for Collin. Your 'brother.' Is he a single? Or do y'all just drop the numbers in private?"

Sarah takes his questions as rhetorical for the most part until he starts to inquire about her family. That causes her to narrow her eyes slightly, brows falling heavier over her gaze. "His designation is not important," she says in flat reply.

Victor tilts his head slightly to one side, "His designation isn't important. Huh. Suggests that it is. Least it is to you." A tiny smirk touches his lips, but he doesn't press at that point. "Your parents picked you and him. How'd they pick each other? Was it assigned or something? Or is it a real marriage?" Whatever a 'real' marriage is, he doesn't say, although the band of titanium around his left ring finger is new since he came in last.

"My brother is dead," Sarah replies flatly. "His designation is no longer important." Then she lapses into a thoughtful silence as she considers his other questions. "They met, found themselves physically, emotionally, and mentally compatible… and decided to remain committed to one another."

Victor shrugs one heavy shoulder, "Dead's dead. Doesn't mean they don't matter. You Hosties have killed plenty of my friends, but I still remember all their names, first and last. You want, I can list 'em all out." Letting out a breath, he nods his head slowly, "So they arranged their own marriage. Or whatever you call it. And they're monogamous. They don't…" he pauses a moment, tilting his head to one side, "Do Hosties even have sex?"

Sarah arches her brows slightly. "His designation doesn't matter," she says again, this time a hint of frustration leaking into her voice. "He is no longer of the number of his genetic coterie." His question does cause her face to turn into an incredulous scowl, breaking her usual flat expression. "Do you have sex?"

Victor chuckles, "Yeah. I do. Makin' the next generation of Havenite warriors, just in case we can't kick the shit out of you Hosties before they get old enough to fight." He gestures across the cell, "So do Hosties? And if you do, do you do it for fun or what? 'Cause you damn sure don't do it to make kids."

Sarah is silent once more as she regards the Havenite with those luminous blue eyes. "Do you find sex enjoyable?"

Victor shrugs, "Every time but once." Might as well be forthright and direct. At least on relatively unimportant things like talking about sex with a Hostile. "Now are you gonna answer my question? 'Cause it'd be a real ball-buster to find out I've been cursing at Hosties about sex when it just doesn't matter to you."

"We have sex," Sarah finally replies, this time her voice returning to that flat alto. She tilts her head slightly before she brushes her palms down her thighs before she starts to rise from her bedside seat. "I hope that answer satisfies your curiosity."

Victor nods his head, "Just want to make sure when I tell 'em they can go fuck themselves, or to fuck off, it means somethin'." Hefting the datapad once more, he adds, "One more topic, then I'll show you the fourth best thing about Haven."

Then it is Sarah's turn to smirk. "It will disappoint you to hear that your use of that derogtory is strictly Inner Worlder." She flares her nostrils a bit as he suggests he has one last topic for her. She rises to her full height, staring at him across the gap. There is a certain lackluster to her voice as she inquires, "Yes?"

Victor shakes his head, "But the idea translates just fine. And sayin' 'procreate' or 'have sex with' just doesn't have the same sting. It'll do." He straightens up a bit in his seat, leaning forward almost imperceptibly, "I'm sure the Prof'll ask in more detail, but what's Fifth World like? Still cold, or did y'all terraform it? All city, or is there still wilderness? Seasons?"

Sarah decides to not comment further on whether a not a word that holds no meaning to someone can actually sting. She instead regards the Inner Worlder with a slight tilt of her head. "It is dark and cold, bitter and lonely, beautiful and stark. You can see nothing but ice from skyline to skyline, but it is covered in cities." She smirks a touch then. "You would hate it."

Victor shakes his head, "You don't know me for shit. But it sounds like you lot must either love Niveus or hate it." Rising up from his chair, he flips the little datapad over to Sarah, then hefts up his chair, "And if you don't like soccer, you really ain't human." And then he's turning to the door, leaving behind the datapad with a single video on it, the last Haven Cup that the Drakes won on penalty shots.

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