Scene #5482: Tea is Better

Owner	Pose
Septette Arcubielle	In ages past, this place was called as the fabled 'Drowned City'- the half of the great port of Armoroad that calved off from the surface long ago and fell beneath the waves, hidden from outside eyes for nearly a century. But to those who lived and died there, it was never drowned. All the world's oceans could never drown this place's indomitable spirit, nor hide its splendor. To them, it is and shall always be the Deep City, a shining jewel in the abyss. The Deep City holds many wonders, but the grandest of them are the immense magical dome of air that encompasses the city and the gargantuan tree that shrouds every building and street with the shade of its boughs. The dome of air has no name, for it is merely their sky; the tree is named Yggdrasil, and treated with reverence. It is almost as much a fungus in form as it is a tree: ruffled lappets and frills grow from its massive trunk that are sturdy enough to build houses of stone upon. On bright days, sunlight filters down through the waves to the city below, casting everything in shifting pale cerulean light as great ocean creatures brush past the protective bubble. But it is not by accident that Septette invites her guests here in the evening. Absent the light of the sun, wild bioluminescent moss gleams a gentle blue and magical lights bathe the city in a pale yellow glow like artificial fireflies, silhouetting every building in an artful dichromatic display against the darkened ocean in the distance. Perhaps some allegory can be found in the fact that the Deep City is at its most beautiful when deprived of even the surface's sun. The warpgate spits Kohler out in some kind of plaza, about a quarter of a mile away from the place Septette's directions specify. A few of the townsfolk milling about give him odd looks- one in particular, with gray skin, impossibly emaciated limbs, and snowy hair, fixes him with a sly and knowing look for a few seconds before melting back into the crowd- but none seem inclined to trouble him, and if he asks for directions, he'd find them politely curious but largely amiable to being chatted up by a Multiversal teen. One gets the impression they've seen a lot stranger. The eroded granite statue in the middle of the plaza- a carving of a regal-looking man with a hollow ribcage and sharpened talons for hands, looking off to the sky in the distance- certainly seems to confirm that suspicion.
Septette Arcubielle	A quarter-mile is scarcely any distance to walk, but unfortunately, not all of that distance is horizontal. The directions lead to the very roots of the enormous tree with chalky bark and emerald leaves, and then to a winding staircase that tacks back and forth along a steep cliff next to the trunk, carved directly into the dark benthic stone. A couple hundred steps later, the staircase leads up to a plateau, and a humble stone-and-wood building nestled against the trunk itself. Strange lettering on the building's facade fails to resolve itself into anything comprehensible, but an ornate representation of a butterfly on the medieval-style hanging sign indicates that this is probably the right place! The inside of the bistro is... remarkably quiet, all things considered. There are a fair few people sitting at dark wood tables on comfy-looking stools, but their conversations are hushed to an indistinct susurrus, whether by calm spirits or the muffling acoustics. That and the warm air inside, conspiring with the somewhat-brisk crispness outside, lend the place a magnetically cozy pull. It's easy to see why Septette would recommend a place like this for a friendly chat- and there she is, in the flesh (metal?), waving Kohler over from a half-hidden corner table. Oh god, she's already got a teapot.
August Kohler	This world is pretty impressive. August is in a jacket and a t-shirt instead of his usual bulk hoodie, and as he walks through, he takes a few moments to glance at the dome, at moss, hell, even a bit at the people - like Septette, they look...interesting. He walks up to someone to ask briefly for directions, nods in thanks, and then proceeds. He takes another moment to take a glance, looking over Yggdrasil and muttering to himself about how the Multiverse is strange and frightening. The stairs and cliff are pure evil. Theory: Arcubielle chose this place to destroy him. As he climbs the staircase, August luckily doesn't actually get close to collapse because he's not /that/ weak, and walks into the bistro. For a moment, the redhead looks to see if there's someone to direct him, before he notices Septette and proceeds, taking a seat across from her. And eyes squinting at the teapot. "Arcubielle. There better be a coffee pot nearby, or otherwise I'm assuming this is a trap. You can't win the war this easily, you know."
Septette Arcubielle	Septette just smiles innocently, her purple eyes glinting with barely-repressed mirth in the comfortably dim lighting of the Bistro. "Why, Mr. Kohler, you look exhausted. Why not relax with a nice, refreshing cup of..." She pushes a porcelain teacup towards him, lifts up the teapot with just the tips of her sharpened fingers, and pours out... something that smells suspiciously dark, and rich, and almost nutty. "Coffee Arabica, imported from Earth," she says with a terribly sly smile. "But I'd be amiss if I didn't offer you other options, wouldn't I?" She reaches into her slim leather satchel and pulls out a double-walled glass amphora, like a cross between a thermos and a wine bottle. Something opaque and inky-black swirls inside, speckled with points of glowing light. She pours half of the bottle out into two cups with a hint more ceremony and respect than she reserved for the uncivilized bean-water, and brings one cup to her lips while pushing the other towards Kohler alongside his coffee. It looks like the night sky, deliquesced and decanted. Wisps of steam gather over the hot liquid's surface, like clouds half-obscuring the stars. Little pinpricks of sidereal light float in the cup, visible through the opaque liquid only when they brush against the surface, where they seem to form shifting constellations in the drink's swirling eddies. It's almost too beautiful to drink. And he shouldn't drink it, because it smells suspiciously like tea. "Vespers," Septette purrs, blowing the steam off of her cup before taking a sip- wait, does she even breathe? It's rich, herbal, dark and sweet, but too strong to be taken more than a dainty sip at a time without putting one off the (surprisingly addictive) taste. "Traditional drink of the Deep City. For a century, no-one living here had access to the surface. Generations lived and died without seeing the night sky, in a culture that prized fortune-telling and astrology. We made this to remind ourselves of what it looked like. But having seen the night sky myself..." She expands and contracts her ribcage in an imitation of breath before 'blowing' on her drink again. "Aah. I think I prefer the imitation to the original. Don't you think?"
August Kohler	Septette's actually right - August does look like he's barely slept. When she begins to pour into a teacup, he squints with a glare, until coffee comes out and he stares at her, suppressing a bit of laughter. "Mountain coffee. Nice." It's at this point that he reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a small little thing of coffee milk and sugar, setting them on the table. He pointedly doesn't watch Septette's fancy tea pouring, though he can't help but glance at the light that starts to appear, distracting him from trying to pur milk and sugar in the coffee. He puts in a /lot/ of sweetener. Pulling the coffee cup back, he takes a second...and then pulls the tea back as well. "How do you drink this stuff without it all pouring through your bones?" August takes a sip of the tea, letting it hit his tastebuds for a moment before giving an approving nod, and then sets it to the side for later as he digs into his abominable sugar coffee, sipping at it. "So, you wanted to talk philosophy when we scheduled this. Still on your mind?"
Septette Arcubielle	"It just sorta disappears when it hits the back of my throat," Septette replies cheerfully. "If I had to guess... maybe converted into energy to fuel my core? But the core's functionally never gonna run dry, so I guess that's a little bit pointless." She shrugs slightly, shifting the shawl around on her shoulders as she takes another sip of her tea. "Yggdrasil had weird design priorities. Maybe 'being able to eat food' was high on the list, since it's sometimes a human bonding activity. I dunno." She actually speaks while sipping her tea- ugh, that's uncanny. Evidently she doesn't need to use her lips to talk- she's just really good at syncing. "Right. Philosophy. I had a few questions for you, but I think I'll swing the big hammer before the caffeine kicks in, just to be extra-unfair." She sets her cup down with a final-sounding clink, then dabs at her lips with a napkin before crossing her arms in front of her. "August Kohler. In your world, the collective thoughts and emotions of mankind can create terrible monsters. I think that seeing the consequences of this collective ugliness has pushed you, consciously or not, towards embracing a kind of Kantian deontology, whereby the goodness of an action is defined by the good will behind it." She pushes a pile of books a few inches to the side, giving her a bit more elbow room. There are a few philosophy tomes in the stack- perhaps she's been brushing up? "Kant believed, as I understand, that there is a 'categorical imperative' to justify each action with a maxim that, if it were to become a universal law of nature, would not result in contradiction or inhumanity. To act as though one's own will were 'a legislating will in the kingdom of heaven'." She tilts her head slightly to the side, searching his expression for clues as to his reaction. "And in your Earth, it sort of is, isn't it? Thoughts have consequences. Motivations have consequences. I think that's why you couldn't pull that lever, no matter how many lives depended on it."
August Kohler	"Maybe it's supposed to make you stronger, but you keep drinking inferior beverages so it's going to slowly drive you insane." August pitches a HIGHLY LOGICAL suggestion, and then looks away as Septette speaks while drinking. That's freaky. He drinks more of his super sweet coffee, and then almost spits it up when Septette talks about him embracing Kantian deontology. Obviously, he's heard of it. "Yeah, that's my vague understanding of it too. Christ, I'm not a Kantian. I don't think of things that way." Though for a moment he's left pondering. And then Septette gets to his world, and August nods briefly, trying to take another sip of coffee without choking up on it. "It's true. Human nature makes my world ugly. But I disagree on that being why I wouldn't pull the lever. The reason is simple. If I pull the lever, I am actively dooming a man to death. If I don't, I am passively letting several to die. One is murder, one is me killing a man with my own hands, even if it's indirectly, simply because I thought his life was worth less. Another is me allowing five people to die because of the situation they are in, which is horrible, but...I didn't do it, as selfish as that is. And on a slightly less selfish vein - his family doesn't have to live with their child being outright murdered. He's a victim too. Who are we to say whether he deserves to live or die? Who are we to say because he's the smallest number, that he has to be sacrificed for the others? Let's invert the trolley problem." Another sip of the coffee, as August leans forward and puts his arms on the table. "A trolley is going to hit one man, but on a separate track, there are five. You can divert the trolley. No one would ever pull it, would they? Why pull it in any situation? Or, the fat man problem. There's not a guy tied up, there's a single track. But there's a fat man just standing there, and if you push him in front of the track, he'll clog it up, die, and save the five. Would you push him? It's the same thing as the initial trolley problem, in a way, it's just more direct - instead of flipping a lever, you're affecting the man himself. Or the one I gave with guns. Shooting one man to save five." "If that's Kantian, though, then Kant must have been a radical fucker. Not many people appeared to agree with me." August shrugs, briefly, as he glances around the tables to see if discussion is still going on.
Septette Arcubielle	For a moment, Septette's emulated breathing stops. Her minute fidgeting and shifting halts, leaving her sitting static in her chair, staring across the table at Kohler. Some subtle affect comes over her- or, more accurately, a part of her humanlike affect bleeds from her body as the ceaseless charade slips just a bit. "That's where we're different, I think," she intones slowly and clearly. "Your morality is optimized for being a human inside of a human society, trying to act in as moral a fashion as possible. My morality is optimized for being an external actor divorced from guilt or empathy, trying to optimize that society for the wellbeing of all its constituents without regard for the morality of the means in themselves. I'd push a man in front of the trolley to save five. I'd push four men to save five. And I'd never think twice about it, because I made the world a better place. You're just not wired like that." She shakes her head, slowly regaining some of that human warmth as she resumes emulating the hundreds of nameless tics that comprise the affect of a living person. "And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, Mr. Kohler. In fact, it's what qualifies you to be a leader, in many ways... Except that what you've stated is incongruous with other aspects of your psychology. Because, see, there's no meaningful distinction between inaction or an accident or unintended consequence. You cannot judge someone else for not pulling the lever. And you cannot judge someone else for accidentally killing another person, because neither is an intentional action." She leans in, eyes gleaming, with an unreadable expression etched on her face. One gets the impression of steel jaws closing around an unprepared ankle. "So what gives you the right to judge yourself so harshly for your own mistakes, Mr. Kohler? Your guilt makes you a hypocrite."
August Kohler	August says nothing on the 'human versus machine morality' thing, simply nodding, though he kind of seems uncomfortable when Septette suddenly becomes more robotic. His mind rationalizes, clearly, that the human part has always been a guise, but it's still creepy to actually see. "But are you sure you made the world a better place?" Is all August asks. He's about to go into something else, when she starts speaking again...and then hits a button. A very sore button, as August's face immediately goes flat. The conversational and casual mood is gone, as he sets his drink down and remains quiet for a few moments. His eyes stare straight at her, but it's hard to tell what he's thinking. As she let go of her human guise for a moment, it seems he let go of part of his own 'mask' as well. Finally, August speaks, slowly and almost eerily calmly. "Because I know myself better than anyone else. I know exactly why /I/ deserve to be judged so harshly. I know exactly what is wrong with me." The 'exactly' parts seem almost...slightly shaken, as if he's /trying/ to impress that but isn't that absolutely determined. He doesn't say any more for a moment, taking a drink of the tea. Yes, the tea. "Why do you care so much?"
Septette Arcubielle	"I care because you're suffering," she replies calmly- though at least it's a kind of human calm, not the bleakly flat affect of a few moments ago. "I care when anyone's suffering. I am literally incapable of not caring. But why do I care about you so much, specifically?" Because he's important to the Watch. Because he's the leader of Die Reisende. Because if he implodes like she's seen so fucking many people implode when they're pushed into heroism before they're ready, it'll be a goddamn catastrophe. Because humans are weak and frail and stupid and they can't solve their own problems and I am the only unalloyed force of good in this entire shitty multiverse and if I don't fix it- "Because I think we could be friends." She sets down her cup again. Clatter, clink. Smiles warmly. Convincingly, for all the world. Around them, the soft chatter of the bistro's patrons continues unabated. "Hard times reveal strong people, Mr. Kohler. I've always tried to prevent hard times. I had companions in the Abyssal War- people I could trust. In those circumstances, perhaps one person in a thousand would not break utterly. Those heroes who remained became my friends." "They have all been dead for a century and a half, of course. And since then I've tried to prevent similar circumstances, similar crises. I have hoped, ultimately, to never again have someone I know that I can trust." She looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers a bit. She looks almost nervous, now. "But now I'm not enough. There are problems I can't solve on my own. I need other people I can trust. And you, Kohler... you've been through hard times."
August Kohler	"I'm fine." It comes out so casually it's as if August has said it countless times, but he puts his hand in his mouth briefly, chewing on the skin, as she continues. As she stops, he takes another sip of the tea, breathes for a few moments, and replies, but to the 'friends' thing. "Yes, I have. And they're unlikely to stop anytime soon. My world's a nightmare and we only just reached the worst parts. But I have to ask you. You've been doing this for over a century. You know human nature. What makes you think you can /prevent/ hard times? It's the human cycle to keep on going, keep on fucking up. I want to prevent them too. I'd like to change that shitty part of humanity, cut it out, if I could." A pause. August is fishing to see how Septette considers that. Why is unclear, as is his face is still cold and calm. "If you're asking me to help you, I accept. If you're asking me to prove you can trust me, then I'm not sure what you're looking for. But I wonder what exactly you're /looking/ for here. You think that we could be friends, which based on what you said, means you think you can likely trust me. So what do you want me to do? What will be different from our working relationship of blowing up helicopters in this case?" It's almost as August is considering this as more of a 'alliance' than true friendship, as if he's having trouble even considering friendship. It might be because of what Septette said. It might be because he doesn't deserve friends, and he's already considering people them, and people are considering him their friend, and it's all /wrong/, he doesn't deserve that. "Either way, I'm willing to help you. Is this why you called this? Or was it to pick my brain about philosophy?"
Septette Arcubielle	'I'm fine,' Kohler says. A lie so keen it's practically dumb spinal reflex, as smooth and as transparent as glass. Septette's eyes narrow slightly, one of her earfins quivering as if by predatory instinct milliseconds after the syllables leave his lips. No. No he is not. "There's always suffering. But people here aren't wired to look for trouble with one another so much because they've spent so long fighting external threats that cooperation comes second nature. If I can beat the shit out of whatever threats they can't take care of on their own, the rest tends to sort itself out," she replies. "This is a world that is intensely hostile to human life. And because of that, people don't really have hostility left towards each other. It's not perfect... but it's rare that there are problems that I can't personally destroy." She looks up from her tea, having spent the last few moments staring at a constellation in the bottom of her cup, and her expression is almost... wistful? "I don't need your help with a specific quest. There's no dragon that needs slaying right now. That's not what this is for. But if I know that you could be there, if I ever did need to rely on someone else- no, when I need to rely on someone else- it's difficult to express what kind of a weight that takes off of my shoulders. "It's not quite right to say that I've been alone. But before Unification, it had been so long since there was someone I could trust to stand by my side and not get crushed." She exhales slowly, looking a little shaky. "Sorry. Maybe that's arrogant. I can't really tell anymore. But it's true that there's a reason I wanted to talk about philosophy, Mr. Kohler. I need to understand how you think." Septette leans back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. "I need to understand because I don't share my moral system with anyone else. I can't have allies like that, or friends like that. All I can do is understand the goals that other people want, and arrange circumstances to ensure that our different moral compasses both coincidentally point in the same direction. That's how I get along with people. That's why I want to understand you."
August Kohler	As Septette replies, telling August her motives, he...relaxes, a bit. He moves back to the coffee. This is a good sign. "I can't tell you whether or not to trust me. I can, atleast, if that's what you want, tell you what I will do. I'm going to change worlds. I'm going to risk my life to do so. If someone out there needs help, someone put down who wants my power, I'll do it. I'll help them. If I die in the process, then my life was served to some means." August takes another, larger /gulp/ of the coffee. "I'll probably die someday. Sooner than I should. But you know that. Heroes die." "They always die. Hercules, Achilles, Cu Chulainn. But it's their actions that matter in the end. It's what they did with their lifes." This...almost sounds like he's trying to /convince himself/ of it, as he finally finishes his coffee, and then moves to finish his tea. "So even if our morals are different, I'm willing to support your goals. Will you offer me the same?"
Septette Arcubielle	"That depends entirely upon what those goals are, Mr. Kohler." The words are as blunt as they come. Septette's expression shows no sudden change in affect, though, and she swiftly clarifies: "I will always try to ensure that your goals and my goals align, where practical. I'm willing to go out of my way to ensure that we're on the same side. But there is no judgement I trust above my own. There is no value I hold higher than following my own moral systems." She lays her arms on the table and leans forward onto her elbows, locking eyes with him. "That is why I can never be 'loyal'. I can never, in good faith, bindingly subordinate myself to anyone else. If your goals fatally conflict with mine at any point, then in that circumstance I will fight you, Mr. Kohler. And the next day, I'll send you a card and make nice, and try to make sure we don't conflict again." "Because," she continues in a slightly more solemn tone, eyes slightly downcast, "like you said. Heroes die. And I'm still around. So what the fuck does that make me, right? Not your kind of hero, that's for sure." She leans back again, takes a swig of vespers tea directly from the bottle, and rubs her temple with one hand. "Everything would be simpler if I could just have uncomplicated, unconditional allies. But I can't. The best I can offer is to be your friend. And if you'll accept that, I'll take it."
August Kohler	"Fine. That's fair." August replies, swiftly, and nods to her about conflicting. "Then you should expect the same. Cards are expensive, though, I'll just send you a phone call." Same strait-laced tone, as he shrugs. "Honestly? I don't know. If we're talking philosophy, pretty sure that's for you to find out. But, on your offer..." ...August goes over it for a few moments. It's clearly actually a difficult decision. "Let's be friends, Septette. If that's what you can offer, that's what I can accept. But there's one condition." "I refuse to accept tea. This was fine, but the coffee was superior. You must accept my superior taste."
Septette Arcubielle	Septette nods solemnly and extends a hand across the table, holding unblinking eye contact with Kohler. "You drive a hard bargain, but it's a deal." For a moment it looks as though she's going to try and shake August's hand- a mildly intimidating prospect, given her weaponized digits- but no. She reaches over the middle of the table, grabs his coffee-filled teacup, and tilts her head back to down the entire cup, still staring directly into his eyes. Crunch. Wait. "Crunch?" She bites into the edge of the teacup itself as she finishes the coffee, crunching the ceramic noisily and shattering it, cramming the entire thing into her mouth with a kind of agonizingly deliberate slowness that's designed to be comically uncomfortable to watch. Crunch, munch, chomp. A shard the size and shape of a shark tooth falls onto the table. She picks it back up and stuffs it in too, and then finishes by swallowing the handle. Then she dabs at her lips with a napkin in absurdly dainty fashion, still gazing into Kohler's very soul as if daring him to say anything. "I can understand why you like the stuff," she finally says in a completely and innocently flat tone, putting a couple of gold coins on the corner of the table. "Texture could use some work, though. And I'd have added a bit more sugar."
August Kohler	As Septette moves her hand out, August actually starts to move his - he'd actually accept a handshake with murderfingers. But instead, she grabs his coffee-teacup, with a bit of coffee remaining inside, and...eats it. His eyes widen, and for several moments, he just stares, unable to respond. He waits until she speaks...to clutch his face and try and suppress his bewildered but somehow amused smile. That was definitely lightening from the previous topic, atleast. "Damn, did I just make a deal with a devil? I'm going to ask the people who work here if they have any salt." Finally, a small grin, as he tries to ignore the fact he just watched that and that that absolutely just happened. Sadly, this is not August's weirdest friendship, and remotely not his weirdest alliance. He is probably doomed.