Tox has also been on missions that involved ending lives, being the most effective soldier for taking people out in a silent, covert way. Trained since birth, it's easy for him to simply summon poison in the air a person is breathing, then catch them as they fall. No weapon, no blood, and not even an autopsy can truly pin it to him, because most people on the surface aren't aware his type of magic exists. Or they don't believe any type of magic exists.
This isn't one of those missions. This mission is kind of... Nothing. Someone got wind of a treaty renegotiation and thought it would be best to keep a finger on that pulse. What pulse? Tox had muttered grimly, certain that nothing interesting would happen and he'd just have to endure the heat for no reason.
Thus far, he's correct. The heat is awful, the sun is too bright for him even with sunglasses, and he has to wear a jacket to hide his augmented arm, so he doesn't stick out like a sore thumb in this low-tech wasteland, which borders him on heat stroke by the end of the day.
Tox, or Sebastian, as he goes by on the surface, sits at the bar pressing a cold mug to his flushed face. His hair is slightly shiny with sweat. He looks over with unnaturally bright, toxic green eyes as Devero sits down. The first thing he notices is how huge he is, even by surface standards, followed closely by the interface over his eye. He must not be from around here, and the uniform tells Tox he's probably here on official business for the treaty thing.
He watches Devero with interest as he orders, first with his hands, then an artificial voice that comes from his interface. That piques his curiosity far more than anything job-related. Sebastian has perhaps seen sign language before, but never translated in real time like that. His community doesn't do much in the way of disability accommodation, despite having the tech for it.
Well then, if he's going to get any intel from this trip, it's probably going to be from this guy. He's just unsure how to get his attention if he can't hear. Fortunately, they're only a couple seats apart and sort of facing each other at a right angle, so as the bartender sets the man's recommended local beer down, Sebastian lifts his drink toward him in a sort of cheers motion. Sipping, he acts like he's considering the taste.
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Date: 2025-12-04 04:50 am (UTC)From:This isn't one of those missions. This mission is kind of... Nothing. Someone got wind of a treaty renegotiation and thought it would be best to keep a finger on that pulse. What pulse? Tox had muttered grimly, certain that nothing interesting would happen and he'd just have to endure the heat for no reason.
Thus far, he's correct. The heat is awful, the sun is too bright for him even with sunglasses, and he has to wear a jacket to hide his augmented arm, so he doesn't stick out like a sore thumb in this low-tech wasteland, which borders him on heat stroke by the end of the day.
Tox, or Sebastian, as he goes by on the surface, sits at the bar pressing a cold mug to his flushed face. His hair is slightly shiny with sweat. He looks over with unnaturally bright, toxic green eyes as Devero sits down. The first thing he notices is how huge he is, even by surface standards, followed closely by the interface over his eye. He must not be from around here, and the uniform tells Tox he's probably here on official business for the treaty thing.
He watches Devero with interest as he orders, first with his hands, then an artificial voice that comes from his interface. That piques his curiosity far more than anything job-related. Sebastian has perhaps seen sign language before, but never translated in real time like that. His community doesn't do much in the way of disability accommodation, despite having the tech for it.
Well then, if he's going to get any intel from this trip, it's probably going to be from this guy. He's just unsure how to get his attention if he can't hear. Fortunately, they're only a couple seats apart and sort of facing each other at a right angle, so as the bartender sets the man's recommended local beer down, Sebastian lifts his drink toward him in a sort of cheers motion. Sipping, he acts like he's considering the taste.
"It's cold, at least, I'll give it that."