driftfleet | One - Well Honed Thought

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One - Well Honed Thought

Who: Tyrion Lannister
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Aboard the Marvisa
When: Er, nowish.

[When the communication device is turned on, you are greeted with a scarred, bearded face that has seen better days, topped with golden curls mixed with black, and mis-matched eyes besides. Despite this rather ... interesting visage, the eyes are mixed with some sort of dark humor and his mouth is crooked with a flat sort of smile. The voice, however, ah, flows like honey.]

Good day, my fellow travelers. I apologize for my ... current state of less than noble stature, but I assure you that a wash and a shave will do no one any favors. I find myself at more of a loss over silken robes onto what ... precisely I am doing here. I have some knowledge - I am on something called a space ship, I am to be an engineer for such a vehicle but ... not entirely sure where, and I am here to entertain people. And before I forget my manners further I am Tyrion Lannister. If that name means anything to you, knowing that I have been thrown into such a role probably amuses you, so I appear to be ahead on my designated purpose on this show.

For the rest of you, I have two questions. One ... is it to be considered amusing when my lack of practical application in managing such a metal beast sends us crashing into some other spacial object, and two, ... there is wine here, is there not?

[A sigh, and a hand rubbing across his beard.] Not a great deal is needed. Just a glass. Just so I can ... stop breathing heavily and think we are all about to suffocate from the lack of oxygen from apparently being surrounded by an airless ... vacuum, I believe the word is, popping into my mind. Yes.

[He smiles, and it's not a bad smile at that.] Pleasure to meet you all, by the by.

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[Well, Tyrion is not entirely certain what good a writing stylus would have been against an assassin, but if needs must.]

I have seen a lion work with less. [Is his reply, before he moves to put one of the cots between them.] Arrows might be considerably easier - considering the materials we have on hand.

[His mind flooded -- he did and would have supplies to do so himself ... ] If you do not mind something crude, I could fashion them myself. I am, apparently, an engineer now.

[He bowed, all while keeping the stylus pointed in Nyssa's general direction. Good breeding did not mean you should be an idiot.] Well met indeed, Nyssa, daughter of Ra's al Ghul. I am afraid I have not heard of your father ... clearly a deficit in my education.

[ Congratulations, Tyrion, she looks at the stylus and laughs, light and honest. ]

I've heard some say the pen is mightier than the sword. Perhaps they thought of you.

[ Still amused, ]

If you don't mind that all the wine I have to offer will likely be crude as well; however, I know of several other refreshments that would have the same effect.

[ A beat. ]

My father is known by many names. It's a trivial matter. [ a short pause ] Speaking of names, I've not heard of yours, and my education rarely has deficits. Where are you from?

[A crooked smile is her answer, and another slight bow, as he swings said stylus like a rapier. Or at least in a good mock interpretation of one.]

I assure you, my lady Nyssa ... they did indeed.

[A tilt of the head.]

Well, as long as the affect is the same - a woman of any creed or shape is still pleasing between the sheets when the nights are cold, yes? I am sure you would say that of any man brave enough to attempt such with you.

[Another beat.]

Oh ... I am now certain it is not. [A brief, bitter smile.] I am from Westeros, land of the Seven Kingdoms, my lady, and I assure you that once you have filled that ... small gap in your education you shall be either impressed or disgusted to hear of the denizens of Casterly Rock, home of the Lannisters. Perhaps both.

[ Nyssa laughs again, and this time her smile is sharp enough to cut glass. ]

You're the first man to call me a lady.

[ It's neither here nor there — Nyssa doesn't want to be treated like one. The kind of woman she is can't tolerate softness, but this has a pleasing form and she likes dancing. ]

A man would not be brave to attempt such, he would be quite dead. I suppose it's a kind of bravery, but I've been hard pressed to say that of a futile task.

[ She is, you know, very, very gay. ]

I would hear your story. Come, let me find you some wine and you some arrows, and we shall speak freely then. I will bring no weapons if you agree not to bring yours, save for your wit.

[He arches an eyebrow at that.]

You must travel in the kind of company that does not measure true nobility then. My apologies for my gender.

[Just because one is called a lady, does not make them weak. Tyrion knows his measure of strong women with all sorts of titles.]

Interesting ... I have known of such women, who only prefer the company of their own kith or kin. So in that, we are merely competitors. Although I am well assured you can call upon a woman of much higher quality than I.

[He has no problem whom anyone sleeps with - after all - women sleep with him. Why wouldn't they wish to sleep with a more attractive woman? And the Knight of Flowers is, alas, family.]

My story is a long one, and I may spare you some of the details. The day I tell you the full tale is when we are better acquainted -- and the wine will be of a quality worthy of us both. [He moved forward, but careful to keep her in front of him, even as he dropped the stylus upon the cot.] I will warn you, my wit is the most carefully honed of all my weapons.

Edited (auto correct is killing me today...) 2015-11-09 14:38 (UTC)

It's a strange man who calls a demon noble.

[ She makes no pretences and she makes no apologies. Father might've disowned her but she's still of his blood and his house, more rightly than the usurper. A demon can't change its form. ]

Your apology is still accepted, and I thank you for your sincerity. I'll endeavour to remember it in my moments of anger.

[ But at his last statement, she smiles brightly. ]

I would have your best. I admit, I'm less fluent in this battle, but rest assured you won't find me an unwilling opponent.

As you can already tell, Nyssa, I am the strangest little man you shall meet.

[Oh, they will get along well. As long as she's all right with him murdering his father, that is.]

I certainly hope so. I have a feeling your anger will hurt me more than it will hurt you.

[His tone is dry, but his eyes are warm. If there were any battles he preferred, they are of wit.]

Oh, then you shall have it. I am always looking to spar in this arena. Just recall that I did offer leniency. No complaining later on that I have managed to best you with words alone, my Lady.

Edited 2015-11-09 15:22 (UTC)

That is quickly becoming clear, Tyrion Lannister.

[ Don't worry bro, she wants to get back at hers too. She mirrors his smile, with more careful, controlled warmth. ]

If you best me in anything, you have earned your victory, and may keep it.

Oh good, I would hate to find that there was competition for the title.

[Very controlled, this lady. He was glad for it. It meant she would think twice before killing him with something sharp. He had value to her and she knew it.]

In wits only, perhaps. I am no fighter, no rider, and certainly have never been able to win the affections of a woman without coin. I shall take my simple victory.

[One eyebrow then rose.] Do you not require a bow as well, my Lady?

A shame, [ if she swung that way and if he was her type. Sadly, neither condition is filled. ] there are many kinds of strength and more than one way to fight. We'll see if you're a fighter yet.

[ A beat. ]

I have a bow.

[ She takes out her collapsible one, which had been folded carefully into her clothes, and with a single movement, it unfolds. ]

Ah, if we are looking into that kind of strength ... then I retract my modest stance. I have been a fighter since I came to this earth.

[Interesting ... oh, very interesting. Tyrion watched as the bow unfolded, letting out a low whistle.] Now that is a fine weapon, to be sure. Almost as fine as my tongue - but surely you knew that already.

[One corner of his mouth quirked up, as he eyed the bow.] You will need arrows of sterner stuff than wood, methinks.

[ She smirks. Nyssa only ever respects fighters. ]

I'm accustomed to aluminium, or carbon fibre. Yet, you know as I do, wood and flint kill a man just as easily.

Well.... I know those to be metal, but I do not know where we would find such materials. Or wood, or flint. I may have to melt down plates.

[He eyed the walls.] Or find a way to pry some metal loose ... beyond that, I shall need a place to make the metal hot enough. My my, this is a lot of work for a glass of wine.

[ An unfair bargain. Surely, you jest :') ]

I am content to wait. Wine is easier, finery will take time.

[Oh, don't worry. Tyrion likes working on those.]

Well, it might take some time indeed ... and I shall need other things outside of wine. Materials, of course. Tools this place will provide. I shall also have to design them and that will take a lot of personal expertise... let us say that one glass of wine shall garner you an arrow. A very finely made arrow, at that. Once you have tested said arrow for it's quality -- perhaps we can bargain again for more arrows, and more of something else.

[A side-ways glance.] Something that I am sure you are well suited for.

I accept. You are of course, welcome to negotiate. I know of much that sharpens a man's mind, as well as that which sends him to hell.

I will happily negotiate ... although please, let us avoid hell. I have been there far too many times for my liking.

[ The funny thing is, she believes him. There's an air of melancholy, a certain metal. People who get hurt wear armour. ]

And survived? I congratulate you. There're many who would agree to burn.

I enjoy life far, far too much to give into Hell alone ... it took a great deal more than that to drag me down that far. And yet - even then ..

[He arched an eyebrow up at her.]

Why burn when you can see where the flame started?

[ Wise and witty in a way not many are. Nyssa keeps that to herself -- it's never smart to show all the cards even if it's the truth. That's the nature of shadows. ]

Why indeed. I believe you also owe me a story. Shall we retire? There is a kitchen, and a library.

[Ah, the library. This is the second time someone has brought that to his attention -- and he is clearly gleeful about it.] Well I know a gentleman is bringing me food to dine on - let us go to the library. I shall have to look up some volumes on metallurgy for specifics anyways. Not to mention ... ah, the word is tripping on the edge of my lips. Aero-dynamics. Yes.

Perhaps on foundries, but we must contain you before you go mad with power.

[ She's teasing, only a little, and turns on her heel, expecting that he'll follow. Nyssa is in no danger from him, she sees no harm in showing her back. Besides, she's a hard person to get the drop on. ]

Do you fear I shall go running through the halls with a pointed stick, proclaiming myself king of the spaceship? My, you do think much of my ambition. Or my mental state degrading quickly ... I haven't quite figured that out yet.

[He smirks in kind, following after her at a slower pace. Walking has never been easy for him.]

Let us not forget you are the strangest man I have ever met. How am I to know your inclinations?

[ She does not slow down to match him, not openly anyway. ]

Oh, my inclinations are fairly clear - watered down wine, pleasant company, good books ... and running about with a pointed stick, naturally.

[Is Tyrion's straight-faced reply. He does find it easier to keep up with her, and gives her a small nod of thanks.]

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