Marina Andrieski (andrieski) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-08-18 01:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, justice of toren, marina andrieski |
WHO: Marina Andrieski & Justice of Toren
WHERE: Coffee shop in New York
WHEN: Backdated to July 21
WHAT: Getting coffee and talking
WARNINGS: Mentions of death and Marina being Marina
STATUS: Complete in gdocs
Marina had a particular feeling about the number of people she’d been letting into her house, the number of times she’d had to adjust the wards to make room for more people. She was annoyed by it all. Still, every choice was calculated and purposeful in nature. Today’s choice was perhaps less calculated than the others. She could have easily met her outside and used a portal with the door. Instead she adjusted the wards so that Breq could actually come inside. Looking at Marina, one might not expect how much light was in her house and just how many plants she had. She didn’t take her near the books, near anywhere upstairs. The only person that she’d actually allowed upstairs was Tony. She’d given a bit of a tour, but only the living room, the kitchen, and then into a separate downstairs room where she did most of her portals. Everything else wasn’t really important. There was an open room which wouldn’t really have been a problem to show, but she would take her time to let people into more rooms of her house. True, she had said more than she intended to both Breq and Seivarden about what happened with Brakebills. She kept accidentally stumbling into talking to people, which made her want to push back a little, raise the level of sarcasm. Making light of things was far easier than admitting things mattered. Devoción had been a find. There were three separate places, but she appreciated the aesthetics of this particular one. Brooklyn was Brooklyn, but this place was amazing. It lacked the food that she was looking for to go with it, but she could easily fix that. She’d stopped at a place to get a breakfast sandwich first, letting Breq choose whether she wanted pastries or something else before they got there. She offered up opinions if asked, but she was just as happy to let the man behind the counter explain the food choices. She didn’t add a lot of charm to her voice as she ordered, but she wasn’t rude either. She knew exactly which coffee beans she wanted and exactly the drink she wanted. Maybe it was a lot more sugar than strictly necessary, but she never worried about it. Once Breq ordered, she glanced over. “Do you prefer the couches or the tables?” There were people in both places, but she was prepared to make sure they moved if necessary. A willingness to eat or drink most anything went a long way. Breq’s earthen meals were still limited, given how much food Station had. The perishables were done away with, as required by their expiration dates, but there was still food, more than enough food. This place did not make it readily apparent what the standard, common, or otherwise expected fare would be. But a quick tally of what current residents had chosen provided enough of a basis. Save that, for coffee, Breq avoided the sweetest of options. It was not necessary and would disguise the taste of ‘coffee.’ The question, yet another place for Breq to display a preference, could easily fall under the category of good hosting behavior. It also provided another chance for Breq to show more about herself. Marina had shown her around part of her residence; Breq was open about people visiting Station, but to enter private apartments, even the public portions, told plenty. It had been the public places, workable spaces (the last, it seemed, for magic), not Marina’s private life. Enough had been evaded to make that clear. “The couches, if they are available,” Breq replied. They were a place to react, a place less formal, even within the same setting. Formal was easier, certainly, but it was less telling. The table was one more barrier, both for conversation and should violence erupt. “As I understand it,” Breq continued their conversation, “Many places on earth exist here and where people come from.” She meant displaced people but spoke more discreetly in their public setting, “Are you familiar with this cafe, this city… where you come from?” Even within the radius of the distance between New York and Tumbleweed, there was a large array of options. Marina wasn’t exceptionally good at letting people in. It was easier to be formal or to at least be a teacher in some manner. Friends were...another matter. When Breq chose the couches, Marina looked toward them, spotting a few people sitting, but there was still space. She could increase the temperature around to make them leave. Instead she gave them a steely look and then sat down, taking up space and offering a fake apology for ‘accidentally’ elbowing them. Eventually they moved over even more and Marina smiled. “Yes. There are quite a lot of places and I have been to most of them for my own purposes.” She shrugged slightly. There had been quite a lot of hedges all over the world. Magic had attracted bad things, though. Marina pushed the thought away quickly, fixing the expression in her eyes. “I got to know the area better when I was in school. I found it. There are two other branches, but I prefer the decor of this one.” Breq sat in the space farther from the other couch dwellers, as Marina forced space for them. It was some level of accepted social ritual, much as it may have annoyed their neighbors. There were a few whispering, a light grumbling, but it turned to nothing as the people sat closer together. That was all the time Breq had to pay attention to other people, so long as nothing resembled a threat. This experience was about coffee, certainly, but also the girl in front of her, whose memories had been toyed with as an efficient manner of handling her. The thorny language attempted to build some distance, a safe space for Marina to talk about herself without letting Breq any closer than she wanted. For all that had been done to her, anger was not her most constant companion. Others were harder for Breq to see, less familiar to her. So she did not name this one. Loss, grief, fear. Something along those lines. “What are your purposes?” Breq asked the less comfortable question. Certainly Marina’s reasons for preferring this decor would be telling, as most preferences were. But Breq was not familiar enough with this ancient culture to grasp the finer points that could give her. “Information for the people I was teaching.” By which, she meant spells. It was a strange sort of similarity, speaking in circles or at least not saying exactly what she meant, but conveying the things she meant to say all the same. She was usually careful. Even with the hedges. She was top bitch in New York, not top friend. She would happily ignore the times when she did realize she had friends and she would try to ignore just how much of herself she’d already shared with the woman sitting next to her. “Some of the different groups around the world had different information that was valuable to me. Some share more willingly than others.” Which was true enough of herself. Sharing with the students was different from how she used to do it. Usually they had to prove themselves. Julia had decided on her own, though, so Marina decided to help. She took a sip of her coffee, trying to focus for a moment on something else. “Have you been enjoying the places you’ve visited since arriving?” Something to turn the attention off of her again. Magic, magic, always magic. Marina had as one track a mind as Breq had had for twenty years. Still had, to some extent. Her goals simply had taken shape along another path. One equally interested in Anaander Mianaai’s destruction, complete and total. That was familiar. Breq’s journey had gone between worlds, across more vast distances than most on this planet dreamed of traveling. But what was Marina’s end? Where would she go if she could? What would she do? And in that time of reaching it, would she be alone or have others with her? Breq could have drunk some of the coffee first, before answering the question, but she chose not to make Marina wait. The question did not dig uncomfortably deeply. “Beyond Tumbleweed, this is the first place I have visited,” Breq replied, “You will have to ask me at the end of our outing.” Tumbleweed had not been so much a visit. Just trips to get what she needed, where she needed, when she needed it. Or, as the case would soon be, to report for work. Whatever traveling she did for that would not be visits. “I have not had the time, nor this swift of means, to travel,” Breq explained. Though she now knew two people capable of fixing that dilemma, if either of them were so inclined. Breq would not count on it. Magic was necessary, was important. She would never stop believing it despite what she had lived through. She could feel the loss of her hedges keenly behind her ribs, the aching of it pressing against the bones and cartilage, but she didn’t show it because it was easier to avoid it. So she would continue to fight to know as much magic as she could. She had a habit of using her loss to cause pain in others, but Breq wouldn’t really feel that. She held no blame in it. Truly, the people from timeline 40 weren’t to blame entirely. But that didn’t mean much. There was a nod at the response, a show that she’d heard it. “There’s a lot left to see.” She had spent most of her time in New York when she wasn’t in Tumbleweed, but she had a job now, so she couldn’t just disappear for days on end with no explanation like she might have been able to otherwise. “I haven’t traveled much since coming here, but I traveled plenty back home.” This was as far as she’d managed to get, but she didn’t mind. There weren’t hedges here. There were people online that made spells up, but it didn’t really matter. There was also a magic store in Tumbleweed. “I’m sure you’ll find excuses to get around. I know enough languages to get around the places I need to.” It had only been a matter of weeks, a period of time both short and long. Given the length of most methods of travel across a planet, it was short. Even close gates could take as long. This planet still held so many cultures, rich in their own traditions, that Breq could travel from one town to the next or one state or one country and find something wholly different. Some issues would still be at play, but how they did so would change. “What languages do you speak?” Breq asked. In how many of them did Marina know songs? People were not necessary, as a means to getting songs, especially not with how much music was played publicly across many communications, with a variety of ranges. Even here, in this coffee shop, music played in the background. She kept calm, her voice even. Not ancillary calm. That frightened people. “I have started learning some local languages.” Local meant this world, earth. Only a handful of its thousands of languages. But that was more than many systems had in total. She preferred to learn what she needed to before she went somewhere. At least, enough not to be too sharply out of place. “It helps, for getting by.” Getting around. She had never stayed in one location terribly long. “Old High German, Arabic, Greek, Romanian, Latin, Russian, Slavic, Ancient Egyptian.” She shrugged slightly, “There are a few others based on things I’ve learned, but those are the basic ones.” It wasn’t all terribly important. Spells all depended on who made them and where the person was from. But more important than that was the intent behind them. The hand movements, the tutting, the words. They all mattered, but the most important thing was the intent, the will of the magician or Hedge witch. She knew magic from various places, but she’d always been more of a instrumental person. The music spoke for itself. It said things that didn’t have specific words or properly strung phrases. She enjoyed the complexity of it. There were songs with words that were catchy and she didn’t mind them. She’d keep the secret of her pop music likes to herself and never reveal them for her own sanity. “It does help to know the language of a place. Most places speak English, but I’ve found they prefer it when you know the language. Some things can’t be translated between languages.” It also helped when people tried to say something like you didn’t understand them, but she could handle that. Especially when it came to various hedges. Then it was less about proving you understood them and proving you had enough will and power inside of you to deserve whatever knowledge they had. Here, in ancient times most of humanity had willingly forgotten, Breq had met someone who learned languages considered ancient even now. It brought her a smile. Given Marina’s one track mind, it clearly tied into magic. The current languages were, then, what she needed to get around and perhaps for some magic. The ancient ones, those were purely for magic. Which had been stolen from her, the purpose of the meddling. Reason enough, Breq supposed, to care so terribly much about something. It was also somewhat useful. “One less way to stand out,” Breq agreed. Though most places charged foreigners more, if they could. “And better to get what you want.” But that was not all it was. She motioned it aside. They could see the advantages and everything mechanical. Breq had worked twenty years toward her goal, always keeping that goal in mind. It had only succeeded at all because of having another person, something more than a stranger if less than a friend at the time. And since then, it had only gone even further because of the people in Breq’s life. People mattered even more. “I think it is difficult to understand a person, if you do not understand their language,” Breq shared. Their native tongue, the one that shaped their thoughts. The ones that let you communicate, not just enough but more. “It’s a new planet for me. And the reports on earth are so ancient that it tells me nothing about what it’s like now.” All of humanity, stuck on one planet. It worked one person at a time. Currently, the one before her. Marina was a collector, as people in the Radch would put it. And she collected magic. The more it cost her, the more she continued. Breq understood being stubborn. And she was labeled a collector as well. But to what end? To what else? “You could spend your whole life learning magic and never learn it all,” Breq suggested. Nothing was so simple and easy. Yes, everything tied to magic. It wasn’t something that she would easily or likely ever give up. It had taken her a great many places and she’d gotten more and more powerful with it. She’d started at the bottom and climbed and clawed her way up until she was the one teaching others. People didn’t question her usually. Not even Josh had questioned her in the end. He’d learned it got him nowhere. Which was the sort of person she was. She lied about having friends not sounding like her. It just wasn’t something she freely did. People who felt the same were usually the ones, but the problem with that was that they’d all died and she was wary of the people that felt the same. Tired of the concept of losing people. So she’d stumbled unwillingly into people that felt the same and wanted to keep them at a distance to keep from having to feel anything if they left. Even if she’d been particularly bad at it with Julia. That was different somehow. “Perhaps, but I haven’t made a point of understanding people.” At least not the ones that she’d interacted with outside of her hedge. “Outside of motivations, likelihood that they might suddenly attack.” Her voice remained casual. “This is close enough to when I was, but things here are still different from how they were.” People were alive for one. “There are people who are from the past that might give you a more factual historical background. I guess the library is filled with books on history. Gods know I’ve studied enough of it. “People have dedicated their lives to magic and never learned the entirety of it. I doubt I’ll be able to learn everything. Not here, not home. I have no idea what will come from there. I don’t know what secrets the 40th timeline holds or what I might discover, but in the end, I guess there matters little since I’m not there now.” She sipped at her coffee, brow furrowed slightly. Breq had not come to coffee to convince Marina of anything. Her past, the commonalities between it and Breq’s own, made her of interest, someone Breq found curious. The differences showed in the way those changes in their memories had affected them. Marina, previously a free person who expected to choose what she did, had strong, possibly compulsive and obsessive interest in what they had tried to take from her. Whatever people she cared about, whatever ties she had to them, she kept private and secret. She had mentioned enough people to show she had some social ties, even for people did not wear those ties on their jackets. “If you understand people, you might care for them,” Breq stated. It was not necessarily enough, were there good reason. No matter how much Breq learned, and thus understood, Anaander Mianaai and her conflict with herself, she did not care for the tyrant. The Orsian word still came to mind, thick with connotations Radchaai and even English did not carry. But most people, those where there was something in common, where their humanity showed, it was difficult not to care for them. Even when one thought one didn’t. Breq knew that. Marina felt herself bristle slightly at the words, but she maintained her composure. Caring for people hadn’t gotten her very far. She wondered how those she’d taken in had fared in other timelines? Did they live? Did she know them? Julia she’d known in another timeline, but she never knew her in hers. “I don’t...let in a lot of people,” she said after a moment. “If I do, it’s got to be some sort of...kindred spirit thing happening.” Another version of her had told Julia the same thing. Maybe not verbatim, but same idea. “Not a lot of that going around.” She took another sip of her drink, looking around at the people in the room. “In my timeline, everyone is dead. Except Fogg, me, and Julia’s scarf-wearing friend with the terrible romantic comedy behavior.” She considered mentioning Josh, but apparently she mentioned him too much as it was and people were starting to get the idea that she cared about him. She didn’t want to talk about the Rabbit Lady or their other friend, the Unimpressive White Guy. “In the 40th, I’m dead.” She shrugged and her tone didn’t change. The way she felt about the information was kept buried under a mask. “The price of helping others is high.” Breq listened. Many were the stories of worlds with similar fates, worlds where their identity was lost, swept up into the Radch, where it was neither entirely destroyed not remained what it was. There was also the instance of the Garseddai, an outlier no one could forget no matter how much they wished to. The case of true genocide, of every single living soul wiped out, every planet and station burned. What few artifacts had remained were likely those that had already left Garsedd before that order. Death was not a surprise, not for anyone. No one, not even Anaander Mianaai, lived forever. “We will all die someday,” Breq replied. Honestly, more than anything, she was surprised that she had not died yet. Running away had its appeals, much of the time. But that did not get Breq anywhere either. It did not keep everyone she cared about safe, much less the innocent people she did not know that she would have to abandon to do that. She thought about Garsedd, where her captain had refused Mianaai’s order. She thought about shooting Lieutenant Awn too. “The price of not helping can be just as high… or higher,” she said. “Better to die who you are than to become someone you would hate.” Some actions simply could not be undone. The surety of death did nothing to soothe the feelings of loss Marina had felt. She knew, without a doubt, that when someone meant enough to her, she would help. It was either stupidity or insanity or both. Perhaps some might see it as strength, but Marina wasn’t sure if she could. Brakebills meant little to her, but still they’d fought and she’d buried every person from her Hedge. Not on her own, of course, but that didn’t matter. With only three people, the grounds near the lab had become a mass grave. Digging multiple single graves was too much work. If they had had magic, it might have been easier. Alas, magic would have gotten them killed swiftly. “It’s amazing what you can live with,” she said quietly after a moment. “After all, I set up the trap for Julia and her Josh. I was going to give them to the Beast so he’d leave us alone. It turned out Julia had more power than I was expecting and Josh was killed anyway.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I’d do it differently.” She knew what that meant and who she was and she was not sorry that she had become the person she was. “It would take more than inaction to make me hate myself.” If that was the action Marina could live with, it was either one of the worst things she had done or the worst she would admit to aloud, to Breq. To a relative stranger. Two people, possibly from another timeline, for whoever us was. “You set up two people to die to protect those you care about?” Breq included a questioning tone, only to clarify that the situation was correctly understood. It was not as bad as any number of actions Breq had taken. They were not good ones, but then many people took foolishly desperate steps in an attempt to protect anyone they cared about at all. Multitudes had given up worse in the face of Anaander Mianaai. “You may not have had to face a crisis wherein you could do something you would hate yourself for,” Breq said. “No one knows what they’ll do when that comes. Each time, it’s a choice.” And no matter how one justified it, as necessary, as having no other choice, as anything, well, there always was a choice. Beforehand. Afterward, if there was an afterward. Both decided who one was. “But that day could still come. We’re all capable of terrible deeds,” Breq spoke evenly. It was no judgment of Marina in particular, simply that she was someone capable of choice. Marina very nearly laughed at the assumption. Everyone she cared about was dead except for herself. Sure, Josh was alive, but he was a friend of circumstance, not of choice. “I can’t say if they were going to die.” She assumed it was likely, though. “And I did it for me. Josh did it for him. I mean, he was willing to let another version of himself die for him. The Beast kept calling for Julia. I had no attachments either way.” She considered everything after that. “The Beast ended up killing himself later. Julia gave him her shade long enough for it to work.” None of them were innocent if she looked at it. She just knew she could forgive herself for things others wouldn’t be able to. There was a small, thoughtful noise. It was possible she’d never been faced with it, but Marina wasn’t sure it mattered. She didn’t think she would be here either. “It’s possible, but I doubt we’ll see that here.” If they did, she’d be surprised that there was a situation in which her choices would be nearly as important as all of that. People being dead didn’t stop them from mattering. It did not remove the potential for their influence. That was a good thing, Breq thought. Whether in conscious thought or not, she often considered what Awn would do. It caused as much trouble in Athoek as it had in Ors. The kind of trouble that needed to happen to push off injustice or that came as a response to disrupting a power system in a more just way. It had not solved all the problems, did not help everyone. But it was a step in the right direction. It was the small issue that Breq chose mattered, as small and insignificant as they all were, as little as most of the universe even thought about Athoek. Well, perhaps they would now, with the conclave, its results affecting all of Radch. Breq gave a small shrug. Perhaps it would not happen here. But people came and left from here, with no guarantee that where they went was home. “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Breq motioned that that did not matter. It was not the point. It could come in the smallest of circumstances. Even here, sitting in a civilized coffee shop. Since they had come here, despite Breq having done nothing more than sit on a couch and drink this beverage, despite there being no signs demonstrating what danger she could be to them, people have kept a far closer eye on her than Marina. Breq’s accent had been adopted to match this society more closely. Not perfectly. But it was not her words that made her stand out. This conversation hadn’t much relied on gender. But the injustice in this place, that was Breq’s personal interest to look into, to stir up trouble about. Marina was far from the first or the thousandth person Breq had met capable of ignoring that issue. “As is true for most people,” Breq said softly, taking a sip of her coffee beverage before she continued, “You can say all you like that you do not care about anyone else. That does not make it true.” Breq knew that personally. She leaned back in her seat slightly. She could argue against her caring, could say that she had no one to care about, but she considered for a moment that it was probably easier not to say anything on this particular point. She knew she cared about others, she couldn’t really deny it. Still, that didn’t mean she wanted to discuss her capability of caring. So she sipped at her coffee and didn’t deny it, but didn’t confirm it either. “Have you enjoyed your coffee?” It was an obvious subject change, but she wasn’t overly concerned by it. She knew it would be seen for what it was and still, it didn’t really matter. She would rather not focus the discussion on it when so much had been said already. Actions were what mattered. Words, like thoughts, could be a part of them. Or they could drift to nothing, meaningless, having no more effect than that of falling leaves. Caring could be just as much like that. It had not helped Awn that One Esk had cared for her. Justice of Toren - Breq, it had not mattered which hand fired the gun, it was all her - had killed her nonetheless. It was a touchy thorny matter to care for someone. One Marina did not want to discuss further. It made her no less caring. Breq was curious as to how that would affect her here, away from the Beast that had died, away from the world where most people she knew were dead. With those memories, with what she had lost, what would she do? Breq took another sip of the coffee. “It goes well with the steamed milk,” Breq commented. “It takes more specialized equipment to make than tea. But it is good.” And it served as good a reason as any to socialize. It was not the answer she expected, but most of Breq was not entirely something that she expected. “It does seem to compliment it well enough.” She supposed tea didn’t take much. If it was loose - like the tea she’d recently bought - it meant getting an infuser, but that wasn’t exceptionally complicated. “It’s worth the effort or the extra time, I think. I don’t mind the tea I bought. It’s curious to know that someone was interested enough in me that they made me into a tea.” There was a pause. “I think they underestimated my caffeine level, however.” There was a plethora of equipment on Station, meant for one thing or another. In the private quarters and the refectory, there was even equipment specialized for food and drink preparation. It was possible they would be able to replicate this, if they bought the proper groceries. They were no longer receiving shipments of fresh food from Aethok, being as they were no longer anywhere near it. But it was possible, once they fixed Station up. Breq had not forgotten the tea, but she wondered just how people chose what blends of tea would make a person. On a basic level, Daughter of Fishes was a decent base for Seivarden. Even if it were a touch provincial. “How did they do on the flavors?” Breq asked. “What did they make you?” The teas here were simplistic, much less sophisticated, than so much of tea in the Radch. But then it was ancient times. And Breq was curious both about what teas had been selected and what Marina made of them. Marina had no more answers on how they decided. She just knew they had. Eliot’s had been simplistic and she couldn’t have said if it suited or not, but she knew he’d expressed displeasure over it. She hadn’t minded hers. “They did reasonably well. Orange peels, rose hips, hibiscus, chamomile flowers, rooibos tea, peppermint leaves, natural orange flavor, natural vanilla flavor.” She hadn’t memorized it, but it was easy enough to look up. “Decaffeinated, though.” Her expression was one of very slight disappointment. “Oh well, I suppose that not everything can be right.” A pause. “I guess I could be apple, pineapple, and coconut flavoring.” There was another face at that. “Small favors, I suppose.” She considered something for a moment, uncertain whether or not to mention it. “You could always taste it and see how it measures up to your assessment of me.” It was a complex mix of flavors: an herbal base with additional floral and fruity flavors, along with the vanilla. Curious. Breq had drunk many kinds of tea, including herbal teas, in her life. But that combination had not been among them. It was not enough to hear and to know what that meant of Marina. Even more so, Breq lacked whatever cultural ties were attached to each taste, as well as to the blend. “Lots of flavors,” Breq noted. “Without the tea plant, there is not a source of caffeination.” Something that disappointed Marina. And, within the Radch, would have lost this described beverage anything close to the name of tea. Breq was not so particular about what gained the name. Still, she agreed with Marina on that note. It seemed odd to avoid the plant in this case. “I would need to,” Breq agreed, “Those flavors could mix together in many ways. And if the base is shifted, even to a mild tea, it would change the balance.” It was easier, in some ways, to start from scratch. Her humming shifted to another song as Breq further thought about the tea. “But I would not be so bold as to claim I have an accurate assessment of you,” Breq added. Yet. Marina had no social particularities regarding tea or what made it tea. She wasn’t sure if that was because her general tastes leaned toward coffee as opposed to tea, so she didn’t bother to make herself consider differences in tea or if it was just America as a whole. She just preferred caffeine and not to be some strange, unusual blend of tea. “I never said you had to be accurate.” Marina was slightly curious to see how she was viewed. Breq had already poked holes in her need to act like she didn’t care for others, clearly able to see through it. Or maybe it was a hope that just happened to be a little more true than she’d wanted. “I’m not entirely certain what I’d have chosen for a tea blend myself. I’d have to know more about tea than I actually know right now for that.” Was accuracy not one goal for any such effort? Breq took less interest in who she wanted someone to be than who they were. The latter was what affected most everything. She acted on her hunches, when she felt sure of them, but there was little action to take on Marina. They were simply socializing, there not being some other end Breq sought. It was particular, she supposed, because she had never had time for such things. But it was also good for Station, for more people spending some time there. “I prefer to be,” Breq replied. “And I may need to familiarize myself with local tea. We have a great deal of tea from Athoek, but it is greater in quantity than variation.” It was not enough to build a tea for a person. “But should I invest in what is needed to flavor tea, I will experiment until I am somewhat satisfied it may be you.” So she offered. It would wait. Even though Breq had a job and thus a paycheck, now, the expenses would go to other matters before it went to trivial matters. Marina wasn’t particularly interested in anyone being overly accurate regarding herself. Having a reputation built on rumors with a hint of truth was the easier thing, but she was aware that her Josh and 40!Julia were particularly aware of who she was as a person. Both of them because of circumstances, but she didn’t know the entirety of things with Julia. It was likely, she considered, because she hadn’t asked, she just held onto the piece of information she had regarding the circumstances of her death in Julia’s timeline. “I guess I could always look into places where you can get more information.” There had to be places, but she hadn’t focused on them because it hadn’t been of any interest to her before. She was curious to see what would come of it despite any lingering uncertainties about the accuracy. Being known felt big somehow. “I would appreciate that,” Breq replied. She knew a mission was coming up, something was being planned. If Breq were chosen, she would be gone for some time. Given the speeds of travel on this planet, likely days minimum. Depending on the mission, it could take a few hours or a few weeks. “Between repairing Station and gaining employment, I do not spend many hours on other activities,” Breq shared. No need to say it might involve going out of town. They were out of town right now. She considered Marina. It was one thing to be curious what Breq would make of her; it was another to provide Breq the information she would need to do that. Not about Marina, not directly, but about the tea. Then they could speak the same language, when it came to drinking it. “If you provide me access to that information, I will make you a tea,” Breq said evenly. “I only work four days out of the week and I have classes outside of that.” Magic classes were interesting enough. She was enjoying herself despite everything. “So it will give me something to do.” Something vaguely mindless. She didn’t need to do all the research herself, but she could at least locate places where the information could be found. “I guess I’ll see what I can find and then we’ll see what you will make of me.” She was happy to focus on her coffee for now, however. The rest of it would come later. |