The two overlay projectors are showing lists and columns of supplies on one side, and a series of capabilities that the Bellerophon can deliver on the other. The members of the Pit of Himar Treaty Organization (Tasha tries not to think of them as 'the potato heads') cluster across the table from Gabriel Akkers, Tasha and Dr. Zerachiel, along with Lt. Gordon Vesuvius and Dr. Kitty St. John-Smythe. Most of the morning is gone now, taken up by Gabriel's presentation. Unfortunately, this means the PHTO members are able to speak.

"We can't afford half of that materiel," Gustav Altieri says, while his human partner rubs his chin in thought. "Not unless we can cut our resource consumption drastically."

"Ssssome of the equipment can be manufactured on ssssite," Sssistho-Sephra of the Celestial Empire points out. "If the ssship can find water for usss, then we won't have to drill ssso many exploratory wellsss… "

Strength-of-Stones' gauntlet reacts to his signing, saying, "We cannot afford to lose this opportunity, if the Pit is ever to be self-sustaining. The benefits… "

"We are all well aware of the benefits, Archon," the ancient Eeee, Senator Cornelius, interrupts. "All that matters now is deciding what sacrifices we have to make in order to secure them."

"Manpower will not be a problem," Lt. Vesuvius notes, and casts a glance to Dr. Kitty. "I'm sure there are many people with needed skills who would be willing to volunteer without immediate recompense."

"They still need to be fed," Rapatia points out. "That fine if base is in the Pit – but Elamoore's port – what left of it – cannot host spaceship. Not for long time!"

"How soon can you begin making surveys?" Lyle Cromwell asks, after having done nothing but listen so far.

"Once I learned of the priority of such a survey, our engineering AI came up with a short-term solution," Gabriel notes. "Since Bellerophon herself needs extensive work still, we have a plan to make one of the planetary sensor pods operable by the Gryphon, Melchior. It can do a cursory scan to determine areas of interest, then close-up surveys to find the most easily exploitable resources."

Tasha glances at Gabriel – there just wasn't time enough to discuss the details before the meeting started – but nods in short order with an air of confident agreement. "The Melchior is one of the finest Titans ever produced; it would be an honor to deploy it in the services of both the JEF and the Council. I may need a few days to familiarize myself with the system and with Melchior, but I think it's an excellent option," she puts forward.

"Results are always good when convincing the powers that be to loosen their purse-strings," Cromwell notes, giving a nod. The other members seem in agreement as well. "What support does the Titan need on the ground?" Scholar-to-Aliens asks via gauntlet.

"The Titan was fully operational as discovered, and employs a advanced fusion reactor to power itself, separate from the Bellerophon's. However, battery time is finite and even more so for powered flight, so it may be necessary to relocate the reactor power unit to a centralized, guarded location for recharging. Perhaps mounting the reactor to the railway system would be a good, mobile idea. If there's enough space, the Melchior could also be moved via railway to save fuel and let the pilot rest. Unlike a normal machine, piloting Melchior take a toll on both my mind and body, so my own operational time is a concern if extended flight is requested… Somewhere to rest would be nice," Tasha explains.

"The airship Ajax should be able to handle transport to the Pit then," Gordon notes. "And I believe there's one converted Silent-One's Titan Carrier at Elamoore as well, isn't there?"

Strength-of-Stones nods, saying via gauntlet, "It may still be suitable for transporting the Gryphon when not used for cargo."

"Either seems suited," Tasha agrees, nodding again. "I'm familiar with airship life and operation, as well, at least Sinaian models. I won't be a burden to the crew."

"As for providing food – we also obtained a partial copy of the Terran Trade Library, containing the genomes for several domesticated animals and crops," Dr. Zerachiel notes. "We have some equipment for making use of it, but large scale production would require more gestation tanks… "

"We may be able to help with that," Senator Cornelius offers with a grin.

Tasha settles back, folding her hands in her lap. It'll be good to fly again, even if my wings will be metal, she thinks, ears perked as she watches the others speak.

More bartering is done, and discussions over the initial drafts of the JEF charter and how it would fit within the PHTO's mandate. There are some mutterings as well, about likely military review being needed before things can be finalized.

Dr. Kitty leans over to whisper to Tasha, "It's nearly lunchtime. I hear Cookie has something special planned."

Tasha provides her input where needed, but as the least experienced member of the JEF representatives, finds herself more quiet than not. She's in a zone when Dr. Kitty whispers to her, making her suddenly blink in surprised, then look over. "Oh, really? That's good, because I never realized talking could be so exhausting," she whispers back.

"These people train for years, I imagine," Kitty replies with a grin. "It does make one appreciate the Silent-Ones though; they only comment when they're sure it's something worth saying."

"I've learned excessive Sign-talk really cramps the hands," Tasha agrees, flexing her closest. "Me, I trained for years in days. Did you know I learned Silent Sign from a machine?"

"Most non-Silent-Ones learn it from books," Kitty notes. "Something to do with the implants in your brain?"

"Much earlier than that," Tasha says, tilting her head Kittywards in order to hear and whisper easier. "It happened when we discovered the TSS Fenris; Terran military – old Terran military that is – emergency protocol and ID confusion had me ending up in the tube meant for Nora Argentine. In order to secure the ship and save the Karnor Elite, I was given a partial download of her memories." Tasha purses her muzzle, then admits, "It's really she who should be here, not me. Fate can be really cruel."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Nora Argentine," Tasha adds, apologetic, "I prefer to remember her that way."

"The machines can really record a person's mind then?" Kitty asks. "The AIs that your captain refers to… are they recordings of actual crew?"

"Yes," Tasha replies, head bobbing slowly. "Or, at least they could. Use of that option will likely be limited as we decide how, and if, to use it. There's a lot of ethical and moral issues to work out, and a matter of need. And yes, they're personality approximations paired to collective skillsets."

"It sounds like the old prospector stories about haunted machines," Kitty admits.

"We're all ghosts in our own way; relics of the past come again. Some of us were brought back to it, and some of us forward from it, but we of that ship are all connected to it. It doesn't frighten me, it makes me sad. I dream about them some times, and it pains me to know they died as they did. Those that didn't make it … They didn't deserve that. Carrying on their legacy is my way of telling them their sacrifice wasn't in vain. I hope it eases their souls, where ever they might be," says Tasha, whose expression becomes increasingly overcast as she goes on.

There is a mass shuffling of chairs and pillows, signaling a pause to the negotiations for lunch. "How are you holding up?" Gabriel asks Tasha. "You shouldn't be too tired out for your 'date' with the Archon later on," he adds with a grin.

Tasha, who had sunken in to the unpleasantness of the unfairness of the universe, suddenly blinks when Gabriel talks to her. Her eyes widen, she blinks again, then she shakes her head out and turns to smile at him. "I was wondering when you were going to call it that. You aren't jealous, are you? I heard he's a fraction of your age," she teases, playfully. "Possibly even some level of several-point behind the decimal of your age," Tasha adds, tapping her chin in a mock-contemplative manner.

"I'm sure nothing untoward will happen," Gabriel notes, offering his elbow to Tasha. "Formal Silent Sign is notoriously difficult to flirt in, I've heard."

"I prefer body language that isn't my hands, anyway," Tasha insists, grinning all the while. She hooks her arm in his, leaning her head against the older man's arm, "So, do you resent me yet for asking you to do this?"

"Not yet," Gabriel says as they join the exodus to the dining hall. "Give it more time though," he jokes.

Tasha cackles, nodding. "I may resent myself by then. We'll have to think of some way to get me back later," she jokes back.

The dining hall is simply another conference room, with the table covered in white linen and place settings for everyone. Uniformed Karnors stand at attention near side tables covered in pitchers and bottles, while the center of the table is taken up by the main course: some sort of armored, fat, limbless… creature. It's clearly been glazed and rotisserie cooked, and there is a large selection of vegetables and breads to go with it.

"That's … That's the weirdest whatever that is I've ever seen," Tasha admits to Gabriel in whispers. "I'm still going to eat it, though."

"Has to be better than hamburger," Gabriel agrees. Zerachiel is already leaning in to get a better look at the creature. "It has compound eyes," he notes. "Like an insect."

"It probably is an insect," Tasha agrees, also leaning forward, "From down in the valley, just like those machines. Well, this will show them not to try and eat us!" The young woman laughs, leaning back.

As everyone is seated, and poured the drink of their choice, Cookie announces the main course as a "Death's Head Sow," and explains that the metals have been chelated out of the body already. From the description (a worm-like beast with a poisonous head and a body capable of regeneration) it sounds to Tasha like some monstrous form of squibbit. The first defts cuts by the chef show it to be made mostly of marbled blue meat. An electric grill allows for each steak to be cooked more to each diner's liking, while some are breaded for the tastes of the Nagas.

Tasha, always happy for a good meal, gets herself a nice big slice of meat, two slicesof bread, a mug of beer, and one of water. Watching her steak slowly simmer on her own grill, she smiles contentedly and sips her beer. "I may be getting used to formal eating," she tells Gabriel, raising her mug, "and I'm glad I'm here to share them with you." She then tips her mug to him, in salute, and sips again.

"You should try the sweet potatoes," Kitty says. She hasn't touched her steak, but seems to be filling up on salad and vegetables.

"I should," Tasha agrees, and promptly secures one on to her plate. "Why is the meat blue, anyway?"

Gabriel clinks mugs with Tasha. "Just try not to spill anything on your uniform," he advises with a wink. "Or get tipsy."

Tasha grins at her mate, lowering her glass. "I would never do anything to insult the memory of Nora Argentine," she insists. And in a lower voice, adds, "She'd get me later. I know she would."

"The local creatures of the canyon don't use iron to transport oxygen," Gordon explains. "So instead of red, the oxide makes their tissues look blue."

"Oh!" Tasha eyes her meat a moment, then glances up. "The iron is processed in to defensive and load-bearing structures, like bones, then?"

"Yes, exactly," Gordon says. "If this creature had bones… well, it has a skull I think… they'd be mostly crystallized iron and some other things."

"Interesting. I've seen creatures composed from silicates; it's all fascinating. And to think, we've barely even started, and look at the wonders around us!" Tasha says.

The meat tastes… unique. But there are plenty of seasonings available to spice it up, at least! Dinner conversation is lighter. Many of the council members discuss, of all things, theater. Apparently the opera house in Elamoore escaped serious damage in the Boomer transfer, and they manage to get performances now and then.

As the more educated members talk, Tasha, still chewing, asks her mate, "So, how soon will you need me to deploy, and how long do you think I'll be gone? You're going to miss me!" She grins around a big piece of steak, swallow, then sips her beer as she watches, ears perked, for an answer.

"Fred said it would take a few days to detach one of the sensor pods and modify it to run independently," Gabriel notes, adding spices to his meal. "Then it can be worn by Melchior in a harness, and be controlled remotely so you don't have to worry about it – just focus on flying. I don't know how long it may be, but don't worry too much about it. I'm sure I'll follow when I can, so I can surprise you."

"That's the kind of surprise I always like!" Tasha leans forward to smooch her man, but stops short, and he can see her bare neck flush as she pulls away and suddenly looks very interested in her beer. "Ahem, oops." She grins a little, soldiering on, "Flying should be a lot easier without cliffs or other obstructions. SPF might be a problem, but we won't know unless we try."

"I think the Pit is completely surrounded by cliffs," Gabriel notes. "That's why it's called the Pit, isn't it?"

"Oh, right. I meant, that inside will be flat and outside flat. The Pit wall shouldn't be a problem at all; it's not like I need to take off from it. There isn't really much that could get in the way," the young woman corrects, before breaking a piece of bread in two and proceeding to slather butter on it.

"The Pit has some very bizarre structures in it," Kitty notes. "The Boomer didn't affect Sifran crystal, so there are large exposed arches of it, as well as ones of stone where Sifran crystal on the Sinai side prevented Abaddonian matter from going across."

Tasha pauses in her buttering. "Make that: it'll be an interesting flight. More interesting for me, anyway. I hope the locals are warned I'll be about ahead of time."

"Well, they'll probably see you arrive, if the Ajax is bringing your Titan," Gordon notes from the other side of Kitty. "It's always a big deal with the Ajax arrives someplace."

"I'll admit, I can't wait to look around that ship. I've never seen a airship that big; The Rake could fit in the cargo hold!" A hunk of bread is summarily bitten apart, and Tasha goes right on talking as she chews, "Given how brig it ish, I wonder if I'll haf time to shee it all!"

"It's a full day's flight to the Pit," Gordon notes. "So… I suppose it depends on if you sleep or not. Or you could tour it before you leave."

After swallowing, Tasha says (as she uses the remaining bread hunk to gesture with), "I can't risk or delay the mission just because I want to look around; I'm supposed to be responsible, now!" The young woman grins. "But, maybe I can take a brief look if I'm not needed elsewhere. I have a feeling I'll be in the simulator all day tomorrow."

"What will you be simulating?" Kitty asks. "Aren't you going to be giving tours of the ship?"

"I'll be connected via my neural plugs to the Melchior, running simulated flights in virtual space. We learn from each other, after all. But," Tasha glances at her captain, "Tours may take precedence. It all depends on how much time I have before departure; I want to make the flight a good one."

"I'm sure there will be time – today is just for brainstorming, really," Kitty notes. "It'll take time before there's something actually in writing that can be signed – and even that would then have to be approved by the governments."

"We'll do our best on our end," Tasha assures Kitty, smiling. As Gabriel has learned, Tasha is as fast an eater as she is a big one; she once explained, growing up on a ship full of big hungry Vartans means eating as fast as you can, when you can. Her plate is practically clean as she gnaws on the last of the bread. "I just wish I had a better idea of what will happen and what I should do to make this as smooth as possible. And, at least I'm learning a lot. Who knows when the Captain may make me handle something like this alone?" She grins after biting off a big piece, watching Gabriel for his reaction.

"Wait… you didn't expect me to send anyone along with you, did you?" Gabriel asks, looking surprised.

"Oh no," Tasha says after swallowing, waving the man off. "I'm perfectly happy to fly alone. The Melchior is a personal experience, anyway. What I meant was, something scary, like politics."

"I'd never be that cruel to you, Tasha," Akkers promises.

"That's why I love you. That and the shiny ship – you'd better watch for Vartans chasing your tail while I'm away," says the young woman, still grinning.

"I'm more concerned about Vartans chasing your tail," Gabriel notes.

"Who, me?" Tasha looks down at herself, then shakes her head dismissively. "Not me, I'm a half-Vartan with metal in my head who drags men across planets and through space. Anyone who'd want me would be crazy."

"Hmmm," Gabriel says, arching one eyebrow. "Crazy?" he asks.

Tasha's looks up, closest brow raising, then she turns in her seat and lifts her arm in a spot-on salute. "Crazy, sir."

"That's better!" Gabriel says, returning the salute. "Now… pass me that gravy there. I think it's gravy, anyway," he asks, pointing to a gravy boat full of pink liquid.

"I hope it's gravy, too. It might be coolant – but don't tell Cookie I said that." Tasha leans over to get the tray, then sets it down next to Gabriel's plate. "So, how do you think we're doing? Sir."

"I think we'll get most of the support we need, just not all at once," Gabriel notes, pouring the stuff over a piece of blue meat. "But in the long term, we'll need to pay our way, as it were. That's why I had Fred come up with the portable sensor array notion after you gave me your report last night."

"You intend to look for other resources we can take advantage of? I know we need radioactive elements, for the reactors," Tasha inquires, ears perking. Aside to Kitty she murmurs, "We're like this a lot; Gabriel and I are very close."

"Lots of arguing then?" Kitty asks.

"More to show an immediate benefit to the PHTO, really," Akkers claims, then chews on a piece of meat. "Minty… " he comments.

"I thought it was romantic flirting," Tasha mumbles, ears flattening. She grabs another chunk of bread for the serving platter to compensate. As she chews, she eyes the pink-and-blue food combination and just shakes her head. "I guess we'll be heading back in soon?"

"Yes, I'm sure it's time to start writing proposals," Gabriel says with a sigh. "Sorry if it's boring. I think only Dr. Zerachiel is really enjoying it, for some reason."

"He deserves some excitement after being on the ship since we boarded it, and for all we – mostly I – put him through. And honestly, I am enjoying this, I just feel out of place. Not intimidated anymore, but like others should be sitting where I'm sitting. More qualified people. As it is though, I'm learning a lot. No one back home would ever imagine Tasha is sitting in on a meeting between the four most powerful groups of Abaddon," Tasha says, then pats Gabriel's arm. "Don't worry about me!"

"Okay, I won't have to check for snoring then," Gabriel says with a smirk. There some pink on the side of his mouth though.

"It would be really inappropriate if I leaned up and kissed that pink gravy off your muzzle right now, wouldn't it, Captain?" Tasha inquires, eying the spot.

This prompts Gabriel to make use of his napkin. "It's actually not gravy," he admits. "I'm pretty sure it's bismuth subsalicylate… a treatment for upset stomachs and heartburn… "

"Well, that does help at a dinner table," Tasha agrees, smiling a little too widely. Perhaps feeling she might get herself in to more trouble, she turns to face the assembled Council members. "Representative Cornelius is surprisingly sharp; I think he likes people to think he's old and feeble and then surprise them. It looks like they're finishing up, too … Time to go."

The rest of the meeting is… convoluted. Rapatia takes on more of a role in ironing out details of a charter, while the Senator dozes in his chair. Scholar-to-Aliens likewise has more of a bureaucratic mind than her nominal boss, who tends to draw in his notebook more than actually taking notes. Kitty, Gordon and Kessa Drake (a.k.a. Dr. Drasskessa'tek) put on a brave effort, but are largely uninvolved in the political and managerial end of things. Gabriel and Zerachiel, however, stay active throughout. Dr. Zerachiel shows more boldness than Tasha has ever seen from the man – but Kitty suggests that as a scientist, he is probably experienced in arguing for more funding.

As the sunlight through the windows wanes, and Cornelius's snoring becomes impossible to ignore, it is agreed to table things until tomorrow. Tasha finds a folded note passed to her by Kitty as people begin to stretch after sitting for so long.

Tasha's role ends up in the same pile as Kitty, Gordon, Kessa Drake and the other more passive participants. Having never acted in a managerial role of such magnitude, her limited experience as a leader is overshadowed by the more senior, practiced individuals. This leaves Tasha to listen as she plans her routine, considers what she'll need to take, and otherwise sets out the next few days as best she can in uncertain times. By the time the meeting is adjourned and the note passed to her, she's hiding a yawn. "Hmm?" The young woman unfolds the paper, then peeks at it.

The paper holds the number of a room in the VIP area, next to a drawing of … a spotty kitty face. "I think it's from the Archon," Kitty notes. "Gordon passed it to me… "

Tasha has to cover her mouth all over again as she snorts at the picture. "It is," she giggles between her hands, "It is." After sucking in a breath to steady herself and keep from laughing, Tasha smiles at Kitty, thanks her, then turns to Gabriel and says, "The Archon has summoned me. Look, an official notice." She shows him the paper.

"Ah, for music appreciation?" the elder Karnor asks.

"I believe so. I'd better attend him; I'll see you later tonight? Or do you want to sleep early?" The younger half-Karnor asks, head tilting and tail wagging slowly.

"Depending on when you get back, I'll either be in my office or in bed… which are luckily both through the same door," Gabriel notes with a wink.

"I'll try not to wake you if you're asleep, then." After glancing around to make sure n one is looking, Tasha leans on the tip of her hooves and gives Gabriel a kiss, then heads off towards the door waving as she goes.

Navigating the corridors is becoming easier, Tasha finds. When she finds the numbered door, only a dozen minutes have passed – and she isn't certain if she got there before the Archon did or not.

Not one to wait, Tasha raps her knuckles against the doorway, calling out, "Archon? Are you back yet?"

The door is opened, and Tasha is faced with Scholar-to-Aliens. Even though she wears an expressionless mask, it still feels like the woman is scowling. She's also taller than Tasha by half a head. The Silent-One makes a curt gesture, which her gauntlet translates as, "What?"

Tasha's eyes widen as the wrong Silent-One steps out, almost making her brows jump off her head! "Oi," she breathes, holding her hands up in an attempt to calm the other woman. "I'm just here to meet the Archon, we're supposed to listen to music. This … " Pausing, the Vartan decides Sign would be more polite and maybe avoid a fiasco; she begins moving her digits instead of her mouth. "This is the correct room? I am sorry if I am mistaken."

The cheetah makes an odd sound that might represent a sigh, then lowers her ears and steps aside, gesturing for Tasha to enter.

"Thank you," Tasha Signs, bowing slightly before stepping inside. I knew she'd be scary; very very scary, she thinks, hoping the elder Silent-One can't read her mind.

The room is clearly the central one of a suite. There are several other doors, and comfortable furniture and a table suitable for use as a desk or for eating. The only window is in the ceiling, showing the bright stars of the clear, Abaddonian sky. Scholar-to-Aliens points to one of the doors.

Tasha glances around, her gaze lingering briefly on the skylight before she's directed onwards. She offers another bow, thinking perhaps an steady stream of politeness might keep the scholar from glaring holes in her, and heads as directed.

The door is closed, of course, but has a faux-wood grain on its metal surface.

Just like before, albeit a bit more quietly this time, Tasha raps on the door and calls out, "Archon? I'm here?"

The door cracks open an inch, and a golden eye looks out at Tasha. Then a moment later it opens the rest of the way, revealing… a cheetah girl wearing a light shift. She stands aside so Tasha can enter, and her manner seems very familiar to the Vartan. After all, she's seen plenty of Savanites before and this girl isn't wearing a mask.

And just as before, Tasha ends up wide-eyed. "Oh, hello?" She hadn't expect there'd be others; she didn't even know the Archon had other women with him besides Scholar-to-Aliens, but she decides it makes sense. An Archon would need attendants, after all. "Are you from Sinai, too?"

The girl steps back and gestures to a seat… well, something that looks more like a leather blob than a seat. The furniture in the room is odd, an eclectic mix of Himarian chic and woven mats of grass. There are also some odd technological gizmos as well. Another half-opened door leads to a likely bathroom, since there is steam coming through it and the sound of a shower.

Tasha watches the girl a moment, then turns and stares at the place she's supposed to sit. After studying the odd piece of furniture, she decides it must work like a floor hammock, and so centers her aim before dropping down to sit in it. "You don't want to talk?" she then asks the girl, curiously.

The bag-chair lets out a hiss of air as it collapses and conforms around Tasha. It feels like it's filled with beans. The girl watches nervously, then finally signs, "Yes, I am from Sinai."

The half-Vartan wobbles and sways her limbs rather haphazardly until she gets the balance just right and the chair settles. She breathes a sigh of relief, then grins up at the girl. "Falling off the Archon's chair would have been a bad start, don't you think?" Hands are lifted, and Tasha continues in Sign. "What brought you all the way to Abaddon?"

"Boomer," is the girl's simple reply, spelled out in Common Sign.

"Oh." Tasha frowns, and moves to reach to pat the girl, but thinks better of it. "I'm sorry, that must have been devastating for you. Unless, slavery was still practiced then? Then, maybe, it was for the best?"

The girl subconsciously scratches at her neck, where she probably once wore a collar. "Master was eaten by a monster," she signs.

"Did you like him?" It occurs to Tasha that all this time, there had been a terrible injustice on her homeworld – one that hadn't crossed her mind until very recently. Slaves were a fact of life when she was younger, and just vanished from it as she got older. If they were there or not, Tasha never really thought about them and their lot in life. Slaves were slaves; people said they were like smart animals, and she never once thought to question that. At least, not until Amazonia began to open her eyes. "We are all monsters," she adds to her Sign, finding herself suddenly disgusted. "We all watched while your kind suffered. I am ashamed that I saw it only recently."

"She did not hit me," the girl signs. "I watched the children. I hid them while she distracted the monster. They are all back on Sinai now."

"At least she was a good mother," Tasha Signs, albeit with hesitation. Here she is crusading in gestures, but the poor girl is somewhere beyond declarations and admittances. Tasha thinks it all may well be over the girl's head; she lived the life of a slave, but the grand plight of slaves is just another political shadow. A forest, when she's dealing with one simple tree. The half-Vartan breathes a sigh, and decides to drop further gestures in that direction. "Are you happy here?" Tasha signs instead.

"I like Strength-of-Stones," she signs, smiling now. It changes her whole face. "He teaches me things. But the Silent-Ones have strange habits."

"I like him too, so far. He isn't like any other Silent-One I have met, past or present," Tasha agrees, smiling back. Even as she smiles her mind keeps at it, reminding her that condemning a slave owner is a cheap tactic. She realizes that had she been rich, she'd have had slaves, too – and wouldn't have cared about them either. The only thing that kept her from being that slave owning woman was birth and money, not virtue. It almost tears the smile right off her face, but she tries to will her mind on the conversation and not what it means. "Silent-One customs always bemused me. They're very religious, with strict hierarchies and beliefs. I was born on an airship among Vartans, and we were all loud and open. It is very different."

"They seem immodest to me at times," the girl signs, and then the shower noise stops and a naked Strength-of-Stones enters, still toweling himself off (and leaving lots of disheveled fluffy fur in the towel's wake). He spots Tasha and smiles, maskless, and signs, "I am glad you came. My assistant is Feather-Tail." He gestures with a free hand to the Savanite girl.

Tasha gives the naked man a lingering once over, then grins and waggles a hand at him, more wave than sign. "We have been talking; it's kind of you to have taken her under your wing like you have. Do you always meet guests in the nude?" The young half-Varatn raises a brow, head cocked.

"A naked Silent-One is an anonymous one," Strength-of-Stones signs. Then goes to a drawer and retrieves a loin cloth. Throughout it all, Feather-Tail tries to look away until the man has at least some coverage.

While the man dresses, Tasha leans back and rests her arms against the rim of the beanbag chair. She rolls her head to glance at Feather-Tail and signs with her closest hand, "I see what you mean." Then, she chuckles.

"I'm quite normal for a Silent-One of my age," Strength-of-Stones signs in response to the chuckle, although his ears are waggling when he does so. "Do you dance?" he then signs.

"I'll take your word on that," Tasha signs back after rolling her head the other way, then shakes it. "Only a little; and I have hooves. I do not want to be accused of assaulting an Archon."

"A shame," the man signs, and moves one of the gizmos to the center of the room. It looks similar to Fallen-Star's communication device, but is flatter and wider, like a dinner plate full with a complex crystal flower in taking up most of it. Once it's in place, Strength-of-Stones activates it somehow (a swipe along the rim?) and a bonfire erupts from it, reaching a good six feet high but making no noise or heat.

"A holographic projector?" Tasha sits up and leans forward to examine the device, and finds her focus rather abruptly derailed when she notices just how really shiny it is, and ends up staring it in a vapid haze.

Strength-of-Stones is already fiddling with the other device and doesn't notice, but Feather-Tail tries to break Tasha's trance by swishing her own tail between the Vartan and the projector.

It takes several swings, but eventually Tasha blinks her way back to the real world. "Wha- … Huh?" She stammers, rather than signs. The young red woman seems to catch on when she almost looks right back at the device, but instead shields her eyes and leans away, dropping back in to the bean bad. "I need to talk to Fred, and learn to dance," she admits out loud, since her hand is busy.

Music suddenly fills the room. It's tribal, primitive and rhythmic. Mostly drums of one sort or another. And it's not too different from the music Tasha's heard at Vartan clubs, since the percussion and bass are about the only part that makes it over the noise of the crowd.

"I like it," Tasha says, loud enough to carry over the music. "If you think you can survive me stepping on you, I'll give dancing a try!" Her tail wags, albeit with limited room smushed as it is in to the deformed chair.

Feather-Tail gives Tasha plenty of room, while Strength-of-Stones is already dancing to the beat, working his way around the bonfire. It's almost certain that the music is Savanite in origin, and that the young Silent-One is very taken with the Sinaian offshoot of the species.

"Aha, you like alien culture!" Tasha, face illuminated by the faux-fire and made all the more stark for it, watches the young man curiously. In a much lighter epiphany, she realizes in her attempts to mimic Nora – or perhaps by the way the reckless download changed her quite without her consent – she's become a lot more stiff than she used to be. She knows this, because for the first time she's really concerned herself with appropriate behavior, and nearly declined some fun because she thought it wouldn't be reserved enough. It makes her shake her head. "Hokay, I'm going to dance now before I forget to have fun – but remember, you asked for it!"