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Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Printable Version

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RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Eduard - 04-06-2014

" All that I wish ? " he murmured with a slight tint of repulsiveness being drooled from between his lips as his face turned dreadfully serious.

" Non! All that I wish from you, however, oui, I do... "

A slight smile rejuvenated his face, only so that it will carve his mouth enough so that it will make room for his next words to be exuded.

" But there is no need to empathize over my current and temporary impoverishment. I do expect to acquire everything I wish for and I do acquire it. "

" Regardless... " The warmth of his typical voice serrated his resonating words again " You are free to refer to this place as your home once more. And, yes, among the Commonwealth, we're all equal. As a matter of fact, however, the members of the Commonwealth might be the only human beings that a Commonwealthian holds any emotions for... "


RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Remnant - 04-06-2014

Approaching the man, glancing up at his facial expression for a moment, before shaking her head slightly.

"Then it seems we share a common goal. You get what you want, as do I. Anyone who sets in the way of that, I will without hesitation pull a few favors to remove the obstacle. I believe we do this for very different purposes however. You do what you do for one reason, and I do for another."


Stepping away.

"Although honestly? That is quite irrelevant. I have no concerns in your business, if it helps me get to where I wish to be, perhaps i'd even gladly help you with all of my power. We'll have to see where things go. Although the one thing that does come to mind quickly, is that I will not work for someone else goal when I do not even know the full extent of what that may be. Pertaining to you of course."



RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Enkidu - 04-06-2014

The man who called himself Achille stared back at the gorgon, grimace falling simmering into the blank, conservative, passing background stare that reeked of an air otherly to the expected, diffidently shrugging away visage as he might a suit jacket, the sylph of a smile playing at his mouth, head down in a convincingly feigned pantomime of staring at his glass. A glimpse of something… something decidedly un-Achille teased at the rims of his corneas for a moment, something aged, repressed, unnameable, unenviable, sad, before the mirage flickered away with the fluid action of a lash.

To his pleasure, the woman who was once monikered Susan Mc Carthy mimicked the very playact the man had anticipated, and graced him with ignorance, complete and total, gazes intermittently locking on Autoine as a missile might before traversing around the space.


Like a deer, always flighty. Like the snake, always guileful. Disdain is her mask, like… The man grinned, staring at his nails. …No abject lies, just a rat-run of implied hypocrisies. Hiding significance in the open instead of the normal bushes. Ignite a flare to it and blind us all with light… His burning mind trailed, sitting languidly against the stool, averting focus, compartmentalising, suddenly, falsely interested by the Gaian silverbacks howling and diving in the adjacent treelines, nonchalantly suckling a cigar.

The silverbacks moved with a sedate, natural ignorance, and the prophet could not help but the compare the oxymoron he and Helen of Troy here presented – two accomplished liars, sparring slouched in the breeze, both anything but innocent. The imagery caused Achille to chuckle and he chair, reaching over the bar as he casually pilfered the very wine he had been tenuously waiting over, and poured himself a crimson glass, smiling at the smell that complimented so exactly the aromas of the false Gaian rainforest that stretched around the domeland, and contemplated just how much whoring Fortuna had bequeathed him.



Is it worth this, all these Harlequinisms for a silver-lined charade? The separations, the detachment, the… bitching isolations? Something inner reflected, as he stared at the jade reservoir of his sins. Yes. Quite possibly. After all, better a cloak of deceit than to be naked and preening.

The glass lay half unburdened on the crystalline edge of the bar, and Nadeau lay back and scanned the barely transparent panelling that passed for a skyscape, eyes fixed on the distant lines, blurs and trapezoids that formed the Torres. In the near distance, the withered, half-derelict hulk of a pilgrim liner maggoted its way through the tranquillity with a dull, dogged persistence, boring through the oxygen wisps as if it were at flight, not at sail, not in space, another strange relic of the deception of the upper Taus. Her hold would be stuffed with souls, her decks with souls, her cages with souls, her engine rooms with souls. Every space that could be utilised, packed wall-to-wall with fleshy, boated statues deep-frozen into a compact compliance, pods trellised over pods like crates in a sordid warehouse, frozen into a surreal ignominy.

A shame that one cannot dream when flash-frozen. Considering their latter employment, they should have one, bracing grasp at flight before a word where no dreams can escape….

…Objects cannot dream, after all. The Councillor self-reprimanded, nearly smacking himself back into character as his shield reactively fizzed, face a wreath of disinterest as turned away from the sky with characteristic, almost caricatured, disdain that crept and irked and snatched at his core, almost as if something hard, something thought to be immutable, had taken a slip from its hold with a measured, calculated precision.. Nadeau’s incisors brightened, an unobtrusive ear laconically angled towards the dialoguing individuals. There was a certain… brace… to the machinations that passed betwixed the two manipulators that had Achille, imperceptibly, rapt, a weakness visible only in the fixation set deep in the creviced crannies of his eyes. Susan wouldn’t notice, no. And the trusting, traipsing, showboating theatrics of Autoine left quarter for nothing but a dulcet personal oblivion.


“Tara. Mc Carthy. Susan. Tara…” He winked, whispering inaudibly to the palladium/gold alloyed lighter, flickering the implement before the hairs of his face, squinting in the light. “…So so many faces… So many failed, feigned slogs to maintain an air of silence. Decency. To conceal all the wakes you make, the ripples, the waves, before they drown you., lest they scare your prey”.

Flame on, flame off, flare on, flare off. Achille thumbed the lid down, and, without so much as an upward twinge, rapt a few, incongruous crypticisms into the depths of his PDA, deleted any and all incriminating tracer material of its sending, and slid the device placidly back to his lodgement.

At the far corner of the bar, the masked Gregar’s stiffened, a slight, sably nondescript nod visible in the cheek guards of his helmet before sidling into the blackness of the entranceways, uncannily without trigging any of the motion sensors that operated the corridor lights, falling into a lithe dark as black as the armour that swallowed him.

Achille remained mutely unobtrusive for a sequence of guiltless, innocuous seconds, before rising fluidly from the bar and back into skin of the vacillating character he method acted so well. I should have a dammed reward.


“…Say, cheri, I wonder how many individuals would end up being rather… extensively dead, if I so chose as to contact a particular cap-wearing individual to conduct a sequence of surveys.


“…We lack a flag, Susan. But we do bear a badge… here… If you follow…”
He traced, pointed nails tracking at the left of his breast. A supine stare. “...I speak with the kind of sentimentalism that you, I, would deny, but here we both remain. Unmanacled entities in form, but yet sill bound to an ideal that defies any description, any quantifier that we can wall it in with. It’s in your heart – no, your brain, cheri – think of the pain it would induce you to defy that statement. Think of what you could lose…”



“…We are the norm. The normal. Unbroken by the spirit world though it lives amongst us. Visions, deceptions, mirrors and smoke. What was once the vestige of monsters, now, the vestige of men. And that’s what traps you here, what cages. Not guards, nor fields, nor guns nor bars. No. What keeps you here…” Achille gestures, intentness, palms spread, searching yet stable, stare pursed. “…What keeps you here, Tara, is aspiration.”



Without any indication of motive or indicative reason, Achille Augustain Nadeau vulpinely to Tara’s left ear, and lows his voice to an near imperceptible hush. Only the target herself was conscious of the rhetoric.



“…You consider yourself discerning.”
Achille grins, with a narrow, derisive focus. “…You discern nothing, you grope in the darkness like blind, wild thing, driven by impulse. Do you appreciate now why I chose not to utilise that portentous compound you stashed with us? Why, as you implore, “I do not like you?”



“…Only name drop if you do not assume the individual concerned will not stalk you to ends of the sector to understand exactly what piece of the cosmic jigsaw he construes. Because I bear naught but a fuc<expletive>tonne of antimatter for those who attempt to play me like a wooden Pipe, you appreciate me?”

“When Jericho falls, there’ll be a reckoning. You’ll be honoured to be affiliated with the Commonwealth then, when the corpses start crawling over each other for the last, flickering, fickle, indefinite ray of starlight at the pile’s summit, only to greeted with the infinite alone amongst a world of persistent chaos…”


“…You conclude, you… assume… you assume “I do not like you”. Well, you’re wrong, cheri – you are one of the most diabolically interesting people I have ever placed a boot over, certainly more so than your cretinous conversation partner here, who prides himself as a diabolical genius. No.”


“I only believe the truth. A sinner’s life will encourage that in you. You receive individuals such as… ah, Katherine, The Good Doctor H, Jerad V, etcetera, who hasten the insanity. Now, before the Biblical apocalypse rears its existential head I am not going to be flayed to the floorboards because some some bloody enigma decrees. And this is why I’m begging you…”


“…I don’t need, but I would prefer, for you to stay with us, Tara – and by that, infer not that you should, or will, remain shackled to the roost, but that you merely wear our badge – nothing as eminent as a flag, just our spirit. I will not inhibit you, nor stop you. I may attempt to learn more about you on… more than a singular occasion, but I’m sure you have your countermeasures. Nor will I shoot you if I despise what I find. Make as many Omicronic voyages as suit you and your’s objectives.”


“…And I expect you to do exactly the same with me. After all, we are both individuals of absolute freedom, are we not?”

“…Shall we get started? It’s an honour, truly, to have you back with us, Tara.”




RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Remnant - 04-07-2014

She was taken aback. There was no other way to explain it. With a mere five minutes of talking, an answer against her own words at that, this man has managed to seem to have everything click into place. Click into where it should be, the 'perfect world' that she sought internally. His words reigned perfect with what ones life should be like, their own. However. The one thing that stuck out to cause at least an internal eye-roll, is the fact that he knew this. He knew that this would have the effect it would, and he takes glee in it.

Struggling to formulate a response, her mind processing everything that he's said chunk by chunk, coming to terms with some details, and merely being pushed back away by another. However there was one thing that stood out amiss the mass of words which was spewed.


"Achillie Nadeau, by all means, call your capped friends. Bring in whatever you like, I do not harbor fear of coming to an end, if things were rigged in the favor to indeed go that way. More-so, I am not worried in the slightest that if one was to check in depth, one would not find anything of interest at all that someone would like to act against from my very attitude."

"The very fact that you would like to learn more about me is quite normal, however upon further thought, it isn't as true to you. I have a natural curiosity in figuring out who thinks how. However that doesn't necessarily exist when I look at you. Is it because of your attitude? Is it how you think? So open, so clear, yet it truly doesn't seem open and clear. You do what you want for personal gain, and you seem to have nothing to hide. Thus you merely don't keep the interest of someone. That is, until they figure out what your mind is capable of."

"Look at this place. You have resources. And you have a personal agenda. At least to your own degree. If that is power, money, or going with the stereotypical end of the phrase, if you're after fame. It is all possible through what you have amassed in your life so far. Yet there still seems to be something off."

"From what can be gathered, you enjoy to be assured that you're above other people around you. Fair enough, I can understand some thinking like that. It's quite common, perhaps I even share a little of the curse which that encompasses. The assurance is what drives you perhaps? No.. Aspiration. Your own words. That fits this situation wonderfully, indeed. Yet aspiration for what? And to what end? Countless plagues of questions which never leave your side when you live life. Yet you don't seem to care right now. Something. Anything. The drive is actually very impressive."

"Susan McCarthy.. She's dead, my ambiguous acquaintance. A small little newspaper with those who have been deceased, her name is written on a small little line. Eventually to be forgotten. A simple way to tie up loose ends when you finish up with your work, something I am not necessarily proud of. However there isn't much I can do when it comes to matters such as that. I hide. Yes. I dodge. Yes. I give up, or even more importantly, I fail? I will become one of these corpses you playfully threaten of before that ever happens."

"I aspire great things, but there is only so much one can do. I have political power through influence of important people in various corporations. Very well. But on an open front? I am useless when it comes to the grand scheme of things. I do not have resources, I do not have a place to stay. The Commonwealth however, perhaps does change things slightly. This.. badge which you enjoy saying it as, gives restrictions, yet it also gives a strong power if those who matter, allow it. Yourself being one of them."

"Yet you do not seem to be too worried that I will lead things astray for the group that you are partially responsible for if I harbor this badge which you are offering me. I can respect that. Quite a big amount at that."

"Perhaps I should stop running around like I have. Of course not completely, there are many things to be accomplished, all within schedule, although.. This rare orginization of freedom is nothing with benefits. It doesn't come free of course, as there are others of the same nature. Robert. Yourself. Sean to a degree. Even the detested Jack Starr."

"This all boils down to one thing in my mind however. Now that my selfish words are out of my system for the time being, the thing that matters the most."

"What about the girl. I've been assured she can stay, and I'm grateful about that. Although I refuse to have her merely draw back into that horrid corner I've forced her into so far by lack of communication, and lack of exposure to external interest. If I have to leave once more for a week or another extended amount of time, what will happen with her while I am gone."




A Sinner's Return to the Stage - The_Normal_Anomaly - 04-08-2014

I've flown across all of the old places.
Are they avoiding me?
I remember seeing them everywhere.
Where have they gone?
I felt their terrible greatness here.
I will find it again.

Mark Locust finally made his way back to the site of the greatest events of his life. The trip out to Tau-37 was a long string of memory. Blazing past the Gallic interdiction forces. His compatriot, whose name he never could remember, bursting into flames amid the sapphire hail of the Gaul fighters. The excitement, the recklessness, and most of all, the worst decision.

It is sad that memories aren't like a hangover. Cure the pain with more of the poison.

He also met "Susan" at the Freeport on one occasion. He couldn't help but wonder where she had gone.

I suppose, if I'm lucky, she'll be around here somewhere once again.
The man enters into one of the common areas between the various public areas of note. Remembering his last encounter, and having no better way to choose his course of action, he makes his way into the public dome to search for "Susan." He adjusts his Houstoner's hat to block a bit of the synthetic light of the dome as he begins his search.


RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Remnant - 04-08-2014

The freeport was it's usual place. People milling about, perhaps some stalls in the bio-dome streets as people are selling food items to the passerby, the pathways which quickly exit into the lush bio-diverse areas of the dome which had a bunch of trails and winding rivers ran by the pumps and filtration systems of the base which he was currently in.

He didn't encounter anything until he reached these less crowded areas, when there was a faint 'snap' sound from above. If he was to glance up, he would see a younger girl up on one of the medium sized trees. Standing with her back against the trunk, looking up at the space outside of the domes treated glass quietly. Perhaps someone who would be recognized if one payed enough attention.



A Sinner's Return to the Stage 2 - The_Normal_Anomaly - 04-08-2014

He does just that, on natural reflex alone. Straining his head back akwardly because of the brim of his hat, before taking a step or two back to ease the issue.

"Hey hun', what are you doin' up there?" he asks up to her, while brushing a hand across the scruffy blonde stubble that covers much of his face now. As he waits for a response he takes another glance around the area to see if Susan might have materialized in the local area.


RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Remnant - 04-08-2014

Glancing down and squinting at the strange man who called out to her, crouching down on the branch and folding her hands together.

"You can see the stars of the systems around us if you look hard enough.. Places I want to go eventually as soon as I get a few years older, at least that's what she promised me. They really are beautiful.. Wouldn't you agree?"


Unable to make out any facial features due to the hat blocking most of the view, shrugging it off for the time being as it didn't really matter at the time being.



RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - The_Normal_Anomaly - 04-08-2014

He lets out a lighthearted laugh at her comment.

Still the same little girl it looks like . . .


"Yeah, there are some neat places out there. Heh, you always are looking out a window, aren't you? Good to see you are still in decent spirits."
he says, as he moves under the shade of the tree to take a seat for a bit. He sets his hat off beside himself and rests his head back on the tree. He debates on taking his jacket off to take advantage of a station that actually has the ambient temperature set to something comfortable, but decides against it.


RE: Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome" - Remnant - 04-08-2014

Tilting her head confusingly at the man spoke like he knew her, grabbing onto the branch which she was standing on with both of her hands, she proceeds to climb down from the tree by falling from one to another, landing on the ground with a quiet 'thump'. Beginning to approach the man, her eyes widen slightly and a small smile plays across her face.

"Oh! That's why your voice sounded slightly familiar! I haven't seen you in quite a while, I see you're still wandering around doing silly things then, hm?"


Nodding a few times contently, sitting on the ground in front of him cross-legged.

"Have you come to see her? Or merely on a walk around the park. Or, you know you can perhaps take me to Shikoku and letme take a walk around the planet since you have time, eh?" Giving him a slight grin, getting comfortable in the grass.