thisavrou | voice;

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voice;

[There's very little preamble before the network gets an earful of the distinctive, raspy tones of a certain ex-cop. Guy sounds like he smokes his cigarettes and eats them too. He also doesn't sound exactly comfortable to be speaking on the network, but anyone who's met him in person in the past few days knows that that forced impassivity is kind of his thing.]

I'm looking for someone who can work with cybernetics. Some know-how with computers or engineering would probably help, but I figure some of that comes with the territory. [A pause, and then:] Discretion preferred.

[The way he says it, one kind of gets the sense that he'd gladly find a way to make even the most indiscreet person suddenly learn the meaning of patient confidentiality– but it's just as easy to believe that that's just the way he talks.

There's another longer pause and then, at length, he adds:] I'd also be interested in speaking to anyone who can talk about the crewman we've got in the hold.

[Spooky, scary, skeleton-like – you've probably heard of Ploiatos. Adam certainly has, and (being the security-minded guy he is) he'd love to know what having a literal skeleton in the closet entails.

And since Adam Jensen's never exactly been known for ending conversations gracefully, that's where he chooses to cut the message off.

Certainly, no one can say he isn't to-the-point.]

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[You're a good guy and all, Dorian, but even you don't get video on a public network quite yet! A (more) familiar face is a surprisingly welcome sight, though.]

Started out sorting junk in the cargo bay – now I'm guarding the highly dangerous, extremely deadly prisoner we're keeping in the hold. [A wry tone, which should be pretty familiar-sounding by now, enters his voice.] So moving on up in the world, I guess.

[A pause. When he speaks up again, his tone's sobered slightly.] Not sure I'd call it an affliction, exactly. But you'd know better than me if it's something magic can fix.

[Magic is what he's assuming is going to be involved here, anyway.]

[You're pretty enough, but Dorian is vain and will always use video as his preference, because look at him! You will know something is amiss if he doesn't video.]

Clearly they trust you enough to put you in harm's way. [he is oozing sarcasm here, though it belies the fact that his arms are crossed and his brow is drawn. He is not sure how he feels about that.] From sorting to guarding, I cannot imagine how that has improved your boredom.

[because one requires that you do a repetitive, mind-numbing task. The other requires that you stand around.]

You've my sympathies. [because he can relate.]

I don't know terribly much about your cybernetics in relation to how a body would ordiairily function. [broken bones, odd moles, do you get sick?] At best I have potions for booboos.

That a note of concern I hear? [Sounds like someone can give out the teasing as well as he can take it, after all.] As far as this job goes, my boredom only means good things for the rest of the people on the ship. I'll gladly take that bullet for everyone.

[So self-sacrificing! Not that he's affording himself the boredom, or the complacency that comes with it. There's more to all this than meets the eye, he suspects– but that's not a talk he'll have out in public.]

At least I know who to go to for scraped knees and elbows.

I've been known to be sentimental now and again. Not too often though or people will begin to think I have a heart. [And we can't have that, can we? But the teasing is fun, he enjoys the teasing.] Well you know, I have the best, worst sort of reading material if the boredom becomes too much.

[And you know that he does. Dorian, how can you read such filth.]

If the doctors and those who are not technology impaired cannot help you, then you know where to take your knees and elbows. Doesn't that comfort you?

[The answer to that question is easily no.]

Funnily enough, it really doesn't. [Joking aside, if none of the six people who'd volunteered can do anything for him, then this ship's probably got bigger issues.]

Might take you up on that offer, though. But then boredom would probably be the least of my problems.

That doesn't surprise me, but I'm certain that it will not come to that. [With so many people to boast of their skills in such areas it shouldn't.]

Any particular problem, or is it one of those things best left to the imagination?

Imagine away. [Whatever that might entail.

A pause and then, more seriously:] You holding up alright?

[It's certainly not the end of the world, what's going on here, but Dorian comes off as someone fond of creature comforts. The cold, the power cuts, this general crackdown on everyone– it's harder for some than others.]

And with that in mind I might just go to bed feeling a little warmer tonight. [He kids, but Adam, you gave him permission to use his vivid imagination.

Ah, yes, creature comforts...for Dorian that means balmy climates and peeled grapes.] I can weather just about anything, but the cold. Maker's breath, I'll never complain about the south again.

[And at present he is bundled wearing just about every layer of clothing he has on top of his blanket. And he thought the Emprise was chilly.]

[Technically speaking, he did ask for it!

(But yeah, the veritable cocoon of clothing had been a bit of a tip-off.)]

And starting a fire in your room would probably be the irresponsible thing to do. [There's enough irony in his tone that he shouldn't have Moira safety and security coming down on his ass. Let no one think that he's ever encouraged arson.]

If you're lucky, maybe the next planet we set down on will be a tropical one.

I've done that before, set the curtains on fire in my room once, it never ends well, that's why a staff always makes for a good conduit. [Well, he couldn't exactly be blamed for it either, the conditions were exceptional. As much as Dorian enjoys fire and flashy things he has no desire to set the whole ship aflame for heat.

But it's cold!]

Mmmm...we should have remained on that vacation planet, it was sultry and I rather enjoyed it.

[Drily:] Figures I'd miss the vacation planet.

[Not a whole lot about Adam screams "beach funtimes" – but he's got to admit, even a single brain-off, worry-free day has its appeal. Feels like it's been years since he's had one of those.]

Shame – somehow I doubt there's a second one on the new course they've charted.

All of that skin, all of the drinks, the luminescent fish! That's where all of the wine came from.

[If Dorian tilts his head and squints hard enough he can definitely see Adam on the beach with a drink in his hand, better than the stuff Adam had on his arrival.]

I'm starting to miss it now. It would be nice if there was something in the near future that wasn't deadly or stressful. At this rate we'll all be half mad before we reach our destination.

Law of averages, and all that.

[But he doesn't sound super-convinced. Him – he can wait for the cosmos to balance out the past couple of years of his life if he wants, but he can't shake this suspicion that he'd be waiting for a good long while.

Speaking of the wine, though:] Still got to find a way to pay you back for that, by the way. I'm not really holding out for there being a booze planet I can pick something up from.

[Dorian cannot blame Adam for not being optimistic about their chances of another luxurious vacation planet. More than the mage, whose life has been overwhelmed with comfort and riches, Adam had the look of a man who could really use it. Maybe they will find a break in all of this shit, but Dorian was a realist, he was also sympathetic enough not to get Adam's hopes up. Some letdowns could be devastating.]

If you have a remedy for frozen feet then that would be repayment enough for me.

[He's doubtful, but what could it hurt? ]

["Setting your curtains on fire again" is kind of sounding like the simplest remedy for that, but he takes a moment to consider it anyway.]

About half of my pair of thermals is pretty useless to me. [Robot limbs, and all.] Might be able to make some seriously heavy-duty socks out of them.

They might not look completely ridiculous either. ["Completely" being the operative word here.]

[Wouldn't be the best idea, but Dorian is coming maddeningly close to building a nice little camp fire in his room.]

Your arms and legs don't feel the cold? [Well, while the subject is on the table, Dorian is curious and that is a distraction.]

Only as much as they need to. Any less than that could be dangerous. [Gotta know ASAP if your hand's melting off, or something.

Wryly:] The ship's a little uncomfortable– but the temperature probably isn't what'll hurt me.

[Though Dorian and his cocoon could've fooled him. Anyway, that's true – until that fire actually happens and/or spreads, at least.]

So feeling sensations, that isn't a problem then? Only not feeling as much as you need to, I'm not sure I understand, but that's a good thing, isn't it? [Dorian is a sensationalist after all, the only thing he knows about prosthetics is that they have no sensation, no ability to feel.]

I can't think of anything other than the temperature being unbearable. I suppose I'll take you up on those thermals. [He likes his cocoon, thanks, and his robes, his robes are lovely too, but if that fire spread someone is going to have to pull him out of it.]

No, it's– [A pause. How to articulate this? It's not like he's ever tried.] ...Pressure's there. I can tell the difference between shaking a hand and breaking it.

[Not that it's stopped him from worrying about it. A thoughtful intake of breath, and an exhale.]

Everything else feels a little like I'm touching it through a thin layer of gauze. Sensation's close, but... Not the same. [Typical Adam Jensen eloquence. The faint frustration in his voice is indication that it's not for lack of trying, though.]

They say your brain can adjust, and eventually it'll trick you into thinking it feels just like the real thing. [A dismissive sound; the verbal equivalent of a shrug.] Still waiting on that. But then again, it's only been half a year.

I...[Dorian has to think for a moment, as curious as he is about so many things, specifically things related to technology, he's also aware that some of his questions are...personal?] My apologies, I'm picking up Cole's bad habits.

[He should probably clarify that.] Ah, Cole is a spirit, he has this ability that enables him to dip into a person's mind and lock on to their pain and other personal matters. I suppose he wants to...help or understand. I gave him permission to dip into my mind, because he was as curious about me as I was about him. A bit like inviting someone into your home only to have them run off with the silverware.

[Obviously Dorian's toeing the line here.] It sounds frustrating, these cybernetics? [Dorian can imagine that experiencing the sense of touch through what felt like a thin layer of anything had to be maddening. Even if the mind acclimates.] If you don't want to discuss it, I'd understand that.

[From the sounds of it, everyone being a Cole would even be an improvement; he's too used to people having motivations beyond simply wanting to help or understand. At length, he finally replies– but not before encrypting his next message. Just because Dorian's willing to be understanding doesn't mean everyone else is.]

It's alright. [Surprisingly, that doesn't even feel as much of a lie as Adam had expected it to.] Should probably get used to talking about it anyway. If I'm being honest, I'm not really used to being the authority on how my own body works.

[For a while, he'd wanted absolutely nothing to do with it– but by inches, he'd finally come to realize that that just wasn't an option. For better or worse, this is... Him. And he needs the machine parts working just as well as the rest of him, whatever ensuring that entails.

At the very least, it entails being more open than he's used to being. Trust is a commodity: requires spending it to receive anything in return.]

There're different models of augs for just about any use you could think of. Limbs designed for heavy construction, for military use, mechanical work, sports– none of them are going to work the same way as the others.

Mine weren't designed with the need for a particularly soft touch in mind. [Kind of the opposite, his tone implies.]

I suppose we all think we are the authority on our own bodies until something stops working, or until something else takes over. [Which is a constant threat for mages who aren't careful, but Dorian rarely talks about this out loud because...well...he's accustomed to people not understanding.

Not all mages were good, this was true, his home had a fair share of wicked mages due to magic and power turning into an unchecked corruption. In the south...well, in the south things were different.

Regardless, Adam's augmentations were far more attractive than a mage who has become an abomination, and Dorian wondered frequently after technology.]

I can tell, that wine glass seemed to want to give under your touch. [Dorian just smiles, the wine glass is nothing really, he could fix it. Stuff could be fixed or replaced.] So your augs were designed for combat purposes, then? Can you train them to bend to your will...over time? Control the strength behind them?

["Until something else takes over?" A question to file away for later.

Adam makes a vague noise of assent. Even as obviously-augmented as he is, none of them really advertise themselves as the high grade, combat-oriented enhancements they really are – Sarif had always seemed like someone who valued form and function in equal measure, and his designs always followed a distinctive aesthetic. Blending in among fellow augs had never been difficult, with what the man had given him.]

That's the idea, yeah.

But the adjustment takes time, and at the same time there was a lot more of me I had to relearn how to use. Should've had more time to do so, as a matter of fact– but circumstances cut my recovery a little short. [And from the sounds of it, that's another story entirely.

Wryly, he adds:] Give me another couple of months, and I probably won't break any more of your stuff.

[That "something else" would be a demon, it's one of the curses of being a mage, particularly one who was unskilled. Dorian had experiences in the fade, some experiences...well...some he didn't talk about.

As far as Dorian could tell Adam's augmentations were attractive representations, not make shift pieces attached clumsily. There was something to be said about that much.]

Sink or swim situation I take it? Maybe the training facilities aboard the ship will be of use to you. I know I'll be using them to help me focus my magic a bit, it's somewhat unpredictable out here in space, though I suspect that has to do with being so far away from Thedas. [He's burnt his hands at least once so far.]

I'm good at fixing things, Adam...well, not everything, but a glass or chair is well within my abilities.

[Life or death, sink or swim – same thing.]

Yeah, I'm... Not going to forget that anytime soon.

[As far as his new experiences are concerned, he'd practically come out of the (Ingress') gate swinging with Dorian and his magic. Even as little a thing as a mended glass is, it'd certainly been a hell of an introduction to mysticism for someone who'd only known card tricks and sleight-of-hand prior to that.

He sighs.] Still. I'd prefer it if nobody had to clean up after me. [A pause and then, somewhat skeptically:] You're talking about the training simulations, though? Those actually work?

[He remembers running his fair share of VR sims back in police academy. Also remembers them being pretty garbage. But then again, that'd been more than a decade ago– and also not on a futuristic sci-fi spaceship in another universe.]

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