Ketevan opened her eyes to the scent of fried food, the ceiling, plain as she preferred, a few devices were placed around the room with blank fronts. There wasn't even a bloody mirror on the dresser, nor was there a wardrobe to speak of, let alone an armour holder or a weapon rack or coat of arms she shut the complaints off after realising in her throes of sleep she'd swirled then in her mind previously. She set down to task and started her morning routine, thirty minutes in sets of two hundreds, squats, pushups one arm at a time, shot squats, burpees and one arm handstand pushups on both. Satisfied, now, sustenance. She did a few stretches to relax and pulled open the door for a woman who looked old enough to be her mother but was likely a century too young—
"Young lady," she said with the seriousness of a village elder, "You stink, take shower and come eat." she thrust a towel out at Ketevan.
"You people are certainly at peace," she admired the intricate floral patterns and weavings of faeries, when she took it from the lady she ran her rugged fingers over the gentle textures and intricate hand-woven stitches that made each pattern. The pink and red petals, the beautiful pale textures of membranes that formed the faerie's gradient light pink to faded violet wings woven in silk."I made a mistake," the lady stood up straight, "You appear to be my senior, but how are you looking so young?"
"I wasn't precisely... Born as a regular human is, but rather made by a divine entity."
"Like the Traveller!" She clasped her hands together, "Does Joseph know this?"
"Master Chef?"
"Yes, him."
Ketevan decided to just shrug it off, explaining her origins to these people would be an exhaustive affair, adding to the fact if this religion around their 'Traveller' contradicted the existence of other beings. Granted, considering the peace that this creature brought to these humans on their planet, perhaps it was more supreme than the ancient of days himself, else it proves that their race is rather... weak willed. The humans from her home were taller than the average she'd seen so far with the people on the street.
The woman said something in that garbled language and gestured for Ketevan to lead the way.
Ketevan walked by her and was directed to the shower, much akin to the royal homes where she'd come from a glass room, however it was missing the curtains.
"Excuse me, where are the curtains?"
"No need for those," the lady paced forward and tapped on the glass to bring up some kind of spell console like the one for Nullshade. She could read the letters, but the words made no sense, in fact, they were hideous.kept
"Do you have a translator?"
"Ah, we."
"We what?" Ketevan raised an eyebrow.
"It is the word yes in my language." she tapped the button for English on the console, "English, yes, why is it called English?"
"It comes from England," she said meekly, "What do you call it where you come from?"
Ketevan ran through the long form explanations in her mind and elected to simply answer with, "It's a matter of debate."
"Ah complex, it is war, no?"
"Never ending." Ketevan dropped her clothes, which made the woman gasp.
"Is this normal where you live?" she spun on her heel.
"Yes," she rolled her shoulders and stepped into the glass shower room. The console moved to appear in front of her with buttons that read: blackout glass, warm, hot, cold, news, entertainment, music and stop. She heard the door close and the woman's footsteps leave down the corridor. Ketevan darkened the glass to avoid offending these kind people further, then pressed for local news. To her surprise, instead of a town crier's dog yappings a familiar orange thread appeared and began to move when words were spoken.
"ALIEN KETEVAN. I AM RASPUTIN."
"Yes, little Red, I remember." she said drily, "Grant me an update on today's news for interrupting my morning."
"YOU SLEPT FOR THIRTY HOURS WITHOUT INTERRUPTION. IS THIS REGULAR?"
She hid a scowl behind a neutral expression. "No, usually night raids wake me up, but your world is so peaceful I feel I am blessed to be here with long hours of restful sleep."
"ANA BRAY REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE DOWNSTAIRS."
"I think I will choose civilian life, I would take time to enjoy time away from the stresses of combat." Which would offer ample time to familiarise herself with the cultures and natures of the world. "May I ask if it is lawful to walk freely between nations?"
"IT IS."
"I don't suppose you'd allow me to roam without being under surveillance."
"YOU ARE AN UNKNOWN FACTOR."
Ketevan pressed for a cold shower and began to clean herself, "Are you a demon, a life trapped in some kind of spirit projector with plantary range?"
"I AM AN ARTIFICIAL INTELLECT CREATED BY BRAYTECH. A MACHINE GIVEN THE ABILITY TO LEARN AND UNDERSTAND."
A mimicry of the brain. "Why?"
"MY OBJECTIVE IS TO DEFEND HUMANITY. THAT IS ALL."
A poor mimicry. "I see." as it should be, humans diving into technological advancements instead of allowign for future generations to study always begets disaster. If this one were to develop his own agenda with how far he has gone to watch me, with the assumption it is capable of safeguarding the world means they have granted it an excessive source of power. How far do you go, Rasputin? "How old do you think I am?"
"EARLY THIRTIES, SUPERB GENES AND UNIQUE BIOLOGY KEEP YOU AT A TEENAGE YOUTH."
"What is a teenager?"
"UNEXPECTED LACK OF KNOWLEDGE."
"I jest." she began washing her hair, "Leave me to shower in peace, though I would prefer to be off of your radar entirely as I learn to cook and assimilate into this world. Though I would prefer to be in this England place."
"THAT CAN BE ARRANGED. SEE ANA." the moving thread vanished.
After drying herself, Ketevan reflected on the news: Colonies on other planets, namely Europa as the newly established 'Eventide.' Developments in further nanotech to construct items from matter, such manipulations that belonged to the elites of her world were now common place in this world. The construction of large scale arrays to further a power grid, further plans to construct bridges and megastructures in space to better interlink the local solar orbit. She rubbed her hands together, not only were these splendid developments in the word what they dreamed of achieving, it was astonishing that here these astounding developments were happening in real time.
"Rasputin," she called out, "I would like to learn about your remarkable technologies in this world, starting with exploring this city."
"AFTER YOU ARE SATISFIED WE CAN BRING YOU INTO BRAYTECH. BE AWARE YOU MUST DISGUISE YOURSELF."
"My ears, you mean?"
"CAN THEY BE HIDDEN?"
"Do you not have a celebration where I could be an enthusiast who does not know when to stop?"
"UPDATED. A GOOD IDEA. HALLOWEEN, I WILL PREPARE A PHONE AND YOU MUST READ TO BECOME ACQUAINTED."
"A telecommunications device?" she wrapped herself in the dressing gown inside her Halefrith and pulled the door open to find Chef's wife outside with a set of clothes. Her mouth hung open as if she'd seen a demon.
"W-where did you gain such fine thread from?"
Ketevan waved the question away, "What is on the agenda for this day?"
"Food," she said, folding the clothes beneath an arm, "Then you cook with Joseph, Ana Bray sent message saying she will come to pick you up for a tour of the city after."
Ketevan followed the middle-aged lady down the stairs, her skin prickled when she looked at certain objects as if they were too artificial. Some of the things in this house seemed to be off, as if they'd been tampered with too far. A warning she'd felt many times in her life when cursed items or someone allowed an evil fae into their home. She had her Halefrith ready, while she kept her face even and curious, scanning her surroundings. By the trade of cooking, these people were an average commonwealth family, the question her mother trained her to ask herself when staying in foreign nations would first lead her to establish a state of order. She would cook, then take the time to read papers, attend criers and public dog-yappings to identify hierarchies, leaders and deep-rooted issues the commoner ignores. She stared at a crimson sphere emitting mayfly size dancing lights. The lights formed into shapes of characters in an Eastern looking language, then various people dressed in skimpy clothes full of holes to expose skin, enough to tease the weak and earn themselves a lashing for indecency.
"Hello Ketevan!" Master Chef called, "Care to help me in the kitchen?"
Men like him have an eye for people with skills. Ketevan marched over to where he pointed to find herself faced with vegetables and fruits with his set of decent quality knives, one marked for each task, a flat edge to chop vegetables, a cleaver for bones, a carving knife, and a slicing knife. Her kind were trained to maintain an excess of useful tools to the people, and she'd slept beautifully without interruption. She turned to face him and pulled a box of knives from her Halefrith, all crafted by masters of the weapon smithing art in her realm, it would take a behemoth to dull these exquisite creations.
"Master Chef, I have slept as if I have been guarded by a Celestial, I offer you these for your kindness and understanding that I prefer to work." she opened the box.
His monolid eyes widened in astonishment, he said something in his language. Looked at her, then at the blades. Pointed to the one for vegetables then to the vegetables behind her on the counter.
Ketevan inclined her head, "How would you like them cut?"
"Blades of grass."
The knife sliced through the vegetables with ease, first splitting them in half cuts to shred them to thin straw to decorate a dish as they do in Reika's equally famous as they are infamous chef houses. Ketevan cleaned the knife and bowed to them after she was done, nods of approval and no violence, well, violence was what they offered idiots who decided to feigned competence in another chef's kitchen instead of offering all humilities.
"I do apologise, master chef, but could I take my food with me as I'd prefer to escape before Ana and her 'Red' attempt to kidnap me."
She almost raised her ears as they tossed their heads back and laughed, a genuinely happy couple in peaceful times unaware of the devils that breathe down their necks. If Ketevan had standing, she'd rough hide them into training and make such fine soldiers out of them they could fell a fist of Azeri forces with a standard unit count and have more than enough fingers left to pluck and cook the eyes of Thaale's to eat on foot. She inclined her head and muttered thanks while she tried to turn the situation over in her head at the lack of evidence.
"Do you have a map of the city?" She asked with keen interest as they packed her meal to go.
Master Chef's wife snapped her fingers, "We forgot," she reached into a stone cupboard and took out one of those devices that she'd seen people with before. She pressed a button on the side, the front of it lit up displaying a plain text time and date with the location being: Paris, La Marais. Going by the area of tall buildings which could adequately be given the name skyscraper akin to tha tallest masts on ships, this was an industrial area where you work hard and leave for the country either after craft or civil service. But the boredom was already gnawing on the far reaches of her mind.
"This is a phone," the lady said.
The next ten minutes were a demonstration of navigation, downloading applications and her using terms such as 'software' and 'hardware' both of which she was familiar with from the engineers in the military, but it also came with a search engine function that allowed her to look up definitions for each of the words later. It came with security which could deduce details of biology or chains of words and numbers she could string together in any nonsensical order to frustrate breaches. The map feature supposedly connected to a satellite to map the planet, and other satellites were dedicated to mapping the entire local solar system. There were even specialist satellites dedicated to scanning the outer reaches of space, the thought triggered a hidden mixture of fear and excitement buried deep within at a place so vast an unknown.
Equipped with the multitooled device called a phone, she set out with her packed food and departed their home with almost a smile creeping across her face. War is a constant, but here for now, she could take the time to enjoy peace while she set about to understanding the world she was in. Utopia was a befitting expression to assign this place, however, if it is by this white sphere creature that posesses an ontological ability to modify a planet on such a fathomless scale mother would have to observe for it to be understood, fine and bloody well. Without the active threat of outsiders, aliens and demons, this was certainly possible. Just one race to control.
She indeed did smile when she turned around to see something that superceded all of her expectations of a future world in peace, the sunrise rose up behind patchy streaks of cloud, tinting the sky in rich rosy gold as her rays enriched the city and warmed Ketevan's skin. She felt the invogoration of her body rise like she'd survived a morning battle and arrived at the horizon line for her reward.
"A new life, a new light," she watched a man light a cigarette after leaving a shop marked: Elysees' Rue Boutique.
She pushed the door open to the scent of flowers, something vaguely poisonous but pleasant to the nose then familiar wisteria and jasmine. The shopkeeper, a skinny man with a silly pointing beared and moustache behind glasses that were a fashion choice said hello to her in that ugly language. Though she was thankful their written language was pleasing to the eye. She shook her head and took out the phone for translation.
"Good morning, sir shopkeeper, I would greatly appreciate some cigarettes, your best." she said flatly.
He took two packs off the top shelf as the door quietly opened behind. In her wide vision she watched Ana approach and hid her disappointment at the loss of her temporary adventure. No matter. Ketevan gestured to the cigarettes and smirked. Ana rolled her eyes and took out a piece of plastic then swiped it against what Ketevan assumed was the money box.
The translated read from his gaggle speak: You have very famous friends, lady. Are you a genius or a superstar in casting?
Ana responded in his language: She's a talented costume maker.
When they left the shop, Ketevan touched Ana's wrist, "Here in person?" she took out a cigarette and drew a match from her Halefrith to light it.
"I'd like to study that."
"Unacceptable." Ketevan replied with a hammer to nail tone.
"Okay, relax." She raised her hands in a mocking surrender, "We really could use your help."
"What's the trouble?"
"There isn't any, and that's what has Red on the fritz lately. Guy's scannin' for trouble that ain't there, wanted another pair of eyes to convince him it's nothing. Eyes of some otherworldly warrior like luck just fell outta the sky onto our laps." Ana leaned on her car. Vulpine and sleek for speed, with these people's advancements the materials were certainly enhanced which allowed for a lack of bulk for defence.
"No, Ana, not now." Ketevan said, "I would prefer some time to walk around this world before I leave the planet." And enjoy the peace my mother said we shall never have. Though it would be poetic, the only release is death unto another world, another life.
She sighed, "Fine."
[author] I'm undecided as to what to do with the Vex yet as I cannot see them just auto-winning against guardians later on, if you have insight into this please let me know. This story has a long time to develop anyway at the current pace, so I'm not too bothered about it for now. [/author]