driftfleet | 02. this is my life now

Entry tags:

02. this is my life now

Who: Gendry
Broadcast: NEVER
Action: On the Iskaulit and the Golden
When: August

The Golden

He'd went to sleep in his nice comfortable bed on the planet, completely oblivious to the notion that the fleet would be leaving that very same night. It was simply one of those things for which he'd had no intention of worrying about it. He woke with a start later because his augment was designed for one thing, which was to tend to the ship's engines. So when the ship began to sound just a bit ragged, he instinctively rolled off the floor the Atroma had unceremoniously dumped him in.

So they were right. He muttered some curses, then pulled himself up to his feet and went to work. After an hour making careful calibrations and monitoring the sensor readings (thank gods he'd learned to read!), he was finally able to return things to what he thought was comfortable. He would afterwards reflect that he really had absolutely no idea what he'd been doing, but the important thing was that the ship hadn't blown up and that this was about the best anyone could hope for. Though as he looked at the contents of what he had to work with, an idea had begun to come to mind.

Some days later, his crew would find him having already removed many of the panels off the stove as he tried to find a way to increase the heat. This was only his preliminary efforts, but he was fully convinced that he could cobble up the components he would need to make a workable forge up here in space. He had the experience, the knowledge, and absolutely none of the permission required to make it a reality.

(tl;dr: find gendry tearing up the kitchen, working on the ship, or paying a little too close of attention to what the exercise equipment is made of.)

The Iskaulit

At some point, someone had the decency to tell Gendry that he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life confined to one tiny ship trying to take things apart in order to stay busy. Instead he was able to live his life confined to several ships, one of which was large enough to be its own sort of marketplace. So one shuttle ride later and he was there!

There was absolutely nothing that interested him. The purpose of the gym eluded him, he didn't want to meditate, he barely could read so books were right out, he wasn't feeling particularly devout, and he hadn't been long enough away from the planet to feel particularly sentimental about seeing plants being grown. So that only left the space bar. With the well practiced ease of a man who spent an awful lot of time on a medieval world, he ordered an ale. What he received wasn't quite as frothy or watery or dirty as what he was used to drinking, but it was certainly a beverage. Eventually a few drinks later and he finds himself sitting on a bench in the public art display, staring at the mural of an artificial sunset.

(tl;dr: gendry can be found at the bar, checking out the art exhibit, or otherwise just wandering the iskaulit taking in the sights for the first time..)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Expected as much. Now, that? She didn't believe. He'd seemed so determined. They'd talked about that determination, even -- and how it could be a virtue. She still thought so, even to see it proven wrong in the interim. Kate hitched the strap of her handbag a little higher on her shoulder and made herself comfortable in this particular spot in this particular hallway.

"Hey, at least you're surrounded by people who know what it's like. We're all passengers, here. We'd all rather be down below somewhere."

Not home, necessarily. Eve if Kate wanted to be back there, she knew there were others less inclined towards homesickness. Still, plenty of planets were an improvement over the ships.

It was receiving friendly reassurances that everything was going to be okay that inspired Gendry to try and insist everything was just fine in the first place, all to avoid this sort of thing entirely. Still, he managed to affect a weak smile to indicate that her words were helping (they weren't) so they could muddle through that.

"Aye, true." He frowned, looked away, then back at her. "So what do people do in between?"

"They drink. They dance. They better themselves, I guess. If they want to."

She didn't want to burst his bubble and come out swinging with it's unbearably boring.

"They talk. There's a lot of talking that gets done -- for better or worse."

"Aye, all that." These were things he knew about. There had been people he'd known who only thought of that, which he could never wrap his mind around. "What about work? Besides on my ship. It doesn't need more than an hour's care each day."

His hand craved a hammer and a forge, but his efforts to make one on his ship hadn't got him too far.

"I work. Sure." She nodded her head back down the hall towards the dimly blue-and-sultry lit entrance to Malum. "I bartend -- but that kinda work takes a certain constitution and although I'm guessing a guy like you has constitution coming out every pore...I do mean a certain constitution."

And sometimes that 'certain constitution' meant suffering through your Westerosi manager suggesting you're getting tips almost purely on your good looks.

Of all the things he might have imagined her as, a tavern wench was not one of them. Despite her modern eccentricities, she came off as highborn and important. Working behind a counter seemed beneath her.

"What sort of certain constitution?"

"You hafta smile. And be nice. And listen to everyone else's sorrows with a sympathetic ear." A beat. "Something tells me you don't do sympathy all that well -- and I'm not throwing shade. That's not always a bad thing. But being someone's therapist for a good tip kinda comes with the bartending territory."

Gendry wrinkled his nose in evident distaste at this description. He was by his very nature the sort of person who would unload all of his problems angrily on such a person, rather than have to listen to someone else's problems. "Sounds awful. Isn't there better work around?"

"I don't mind it. In fact, I actually like it."

And she was pretty good at it. But that wasn't hard -- Kate generally excelled at just about anything that involved good motor skills and and a passing reliance of socializing. It was all the other stuff she sucked at.

"This Lannister dude is not the worst manager I've ever seen. And I like the people who come in to drink. And we have a jukebox, so there's dancing."

The moment the word Lannister was uttered, Gendry's eyes widened and his expression turned immediately dark. She could have said the place was run by a giant flearidden rat and it would have garnered less immediate disgust from him.

"You work for a Lannister?" he said in sudden accusation. He had taken a step back and his hands had balled into fists. He was not looking to attack her, but experience had taught him to expect an attack regardless.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kate's reaction was equally quick -- but also conciliatory. Her hands went up, as though in surrender, and she took her own step back. "Yeah. The guy who owns the bar hired another guy to manage the staff. So -- technically I work for Crowley, 'cause he owns the place. Tyrion just makes sure the trains run on time."

So Crowley was another person he would need to keep an eye on. The name Tyrion did nothing to soften him. He, like so many other of the smallfolk, had been given plenty of reasons to despise this Lannister in particular. "You can't trust the Imp," he nearly hissed. "He's the worst of all of them. They say he's half man, half demon."

-- A look of mild horror hit her face when Gendry went so far as to call him an imp. Jeez! Kate shook her head.

"His sense of humour is way off colour, but I don't think that's a good reason to start getting mean about it. What's so untrustworthy about him?"

C'mon, buddy. Sell her on your vitriol.

"He's a Lannister for one. The only thing that matters to them is gold." And then, because Gendry was the sort of person who didn't particularly mind repeating the latest gossip, he also added: "And they fuck their own sisters."

"Uh, what?"

An accusation like that sorta dialed things well beyond 11. Kate could only squint, and hedge, and doubt.

"It's no secret. Everyone knows it." At least, everyone in Westeros did.

"Everyone definitely does not know it. I don't know it. Why should I ever know it? It's not like it's prone to come up in conversation..."

Unless, of course, you're talking to Gendry. In which case it seems like you can't go three minutes without talking about sex.

"Not here. Where he's from. Where I'm from. Not just that, but he's a kinslayer as well. Killed both his father and his nephew, the king. Not as anyone cares, as they were all just more Lannisters."

...Wow, his world was screwed up. Kate's nose scrunched.

"How do I know you're not just spreading some nasty rumour? This sounds like some real tabloid crap, just saying."

He offered a shrug. In truth, he had no answer to that on whether or not it was a rumor. From his place in the world, he only ever heard things. But the Brotherhood put a great deal of effort into finding out things, so it seemed reasonable enough to feel that they were right. "All I know for sure is, his sister, the Queen, she tried to have me murdered. More'n that, she murdered brothers and sisters of mine I ain't ever met. It don't matter if it's true or if it ain't. They're all the same or near enough as to make no matter."

"--Just because one branch of the family tree is rotten, doesn't mean they all are."

A little touchy? Probably. Not merely because of what Gendry was suggesting, but because she had her own rotten limb with which she didn't care to be too closely associated.

He snorted. "One branch? It's the whole bloody orchard."

"Sure, fine, but do you have any accusations for him specifically? Or just the rest of his family? Because even the baddies have their black sheep."

"Ain't I made enough already?" Kinslayer, kingslayer, potentially sisterfucker. And married to Sansa Stark he might have added, but that issue was one he wouldn't openly confess. "There's not a good thing to be said about him. Not as I've ever heard it."

Rumours weren't accusations -- and from the way this guy was talking, she wasn't certain he was laying down anything more than gossip and conjecture. That said, he could be telling the truth. Far be it from her to underestimate what Tyrion Lannister might be capable of -- villainy or otherwise. And it wasn't like she and him were friends. They worked together, simple as that. But...

Kate was picky about who she worked with, too.

Hedging: "I'll...talk to him about it."

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