( open ) show me how to lie

[darkart]

CHARACTERS: severus snape & a variety of people patient* enough to put up with his ass. (*maybe)
LOCATION: various.
WARNINGS: tba.
SUMMARY: open log for april.
NOTES: if you want to do something but can't think of an opener, feel free to send me a pm, i don't mind writing starters!


Maybe, Severus reflects as he stares down at his arm in the privacy of his small quarters, the whole department thing was a bad idea. SCI » 028 » 084. It inspires a kind of tired bitterness in him thinking about the advances muggles have made in science while wizardkind have hidden away and gotten very good at hovering in place. He remembers the American venture of Apollo 11, remembers the terror and wonder of it, nine years old and imagining if that's what these slow and dull creatures can do just think, just think, what's waiting for him in the world his mother comes from.

SCI. SEC. OPR. He imagines arrangements in three letters for other headings. For gravity management or temporal repair, for mysteries and healing. Science is such a lifeless word and here he is with it stamped next to another, older brand, both self-chosen in one way or another. Xenobiology is a joke and he knows it but his interest is real, and his determination is true - if he has to crowbar magic into this place with stubborn viciousness and arguments then so be it. He won't be trapped here otherwise and damn everyone who disbelieves or shrugs it off or rolls their eyes. They are incomplete people. They have to build machines to see just a fraction what he breathes and touches and manipulates. And he will not hide from them.

He works, both in the "safe" laboratory they've been shuffled to in accordance to security's fussing, and also up in the burned-out attic space of the forsaken genetics rooms. He senses the instability, but doesn't fear it. He cooks meals and occasionally tolerates company, he visits the gardens - for royalty or for his own version of hunting; he considers trying to plant things, has little aborted fantasies of potion-brewing, but doesn't go anywhere with it. He contemplates a dozen projects and, hell, maybe he'll do all of them. It's not like he's going anywhere anytime soon.

Comments

[naytheist]

Cesare is not a drunk, although some people of a particularly modern attitude could perhaps reason otherwise. Under the mantra of little and often being good for the soul, getting through two bottles a day is not unusual for the Borgia and, as such, he has had a lot of opportunity to test and trial the Tranquility's surprisingly well-stocked wine racks. To call him a connoisseur of the ship's alcoholic beverages would be a stretch but he is certainly seasoned.

When he makes his way to his current haunt and source of booze, he does not expect to see another person there, fumbling with the wines, though Cesare is entirely undeterred. He saunters past the man, reaching up and high for a drink that he's previously deciphered as malbec and grasps it by its neck as he turns and eyes the leaking bottle in the ice well.

"Ice and merlot do not mix, my friend," he says with a small smirk.

He knows well enough that the bottle isn't in there to keep it chilled, but that won't stop him from acting otherwise.

[darkart]

Company is not unexpected in a bar, and Severus doesn't seem annoyed by someone else turning up - outwardly, anyway. Part of him will always be annoyed on some level by even the mere existence of other people. Glancing up at the newcomer sparks distant recognition; from the network, not from history. Severus doesn't think he actually knows much about the Borgias in their Roman context. He thinks he remembers hearing that this man, or some version of him, decided to model the visage of their imaginary lord savior after himself, which Severus personally finds really funny. But he isn't sure. Maybe it was Napoleon.

"You're welcome to rescue it," he offers, and meanwhile the merlot leaks down the well's drain, mingled with tiny bits of broken glass and dust. Entirely appetizing.

It's a moment or two until he speaks again, not normally inclined to casual socializing but curious, too. Anyone who wants to airlock Sirius Black can't be without some merit, even if they are a muggle.

"Do you know how to navigate the labels on these damned things?"

[naytheist]

Cesare is the Duke of Valentinois, not a tavern wench, but, forced into a world of no squires, tasters or serving boys, he has had to make a few sacrifices. One of those sacrifices includes him serving himself his own wine and tasting a disappointingly large number of turned bottles, their corks disintegrating and their smell pungent. Nevetheless, it has left Cesare with somewhat of a knack for discerning the symbols on their labels. The fork-like emblem means that the drink is fruitier than Cesare would like while the long thin swirl should be avoided at all costs. The triangle is nice and dry and the cross with the tail reminds him of home. In short, Cesare knows quite a bit about the labels on the drinks, though perhaps not what the other man is looking for.

"Perhaps," he replies calmly. "What are you in need of?" He half expects an answer that is non-specific, something easy. The man doesn't look like much of a drinker in Cesare's eyes (too futuristic) and the Borgia suspects he might be trying just to find a beverage for his sweetheart. There is no judgement there, though. If in similar circumstances, Cesare would do the same.

He rests his bottle on the bar and reaches down to pull out a glass. Cesare can be patient when he needs to be but he doesn't waste time. The other man can faff about with wine all he wants: Cesare is going to drink some.

[darkart]

There must be a lot of ugly, ill-tempered guys landing girlfriends in Rome for that assumption to come up. Hell will sooner freeze over before Severus ends up with a sweetheart.

"A dead cow." ... Must be one hell of an imaginary girlfriend. But he goes on: "Something bitter. How the lot of you've gone this far without eating all the bloody pets is beyond me."

Severus has a lot of feelings about the forced veganism on board the Tranquility, and most of those feelings are 'fuck you I'm English'. So he cooks vegetables and variety of substitute whatevers from the space pantries and has to settle for creative seasoning to not die of blandness. He picks up a bottle made of glass in a lighter shade than he thinks is probably good for wine, inspecting the label. It looks entirely too cheerful for his purposes, so he sets it aside.

[naytheist]

Cesare laughs low and amused. If he is honest, a steak is not all too surreal a lover in comparison to what he has heard of in the past. If Severus is enamoured with meat, Cesare is not the type to judge, nor does he have the high ground to do so. He has heard of worse. (Such is the nature of a cleric. Sometimes they must receive confessions that they would rather not hear). At least this time the cow is dead.

He considers the request for a second, taking a hefty swig of his own drink before reaching down and grabbing a bottle with two circles and something unintelligible on its label. The bottle that Severus picked up, Cesare slides away, calmly replacing it with something deeper, darker, almost black.

"That is almost water. Try this instead." The wine is dry, almost teeth-suckingly so, but it's well-suited to beef. If Severus doesn't want it, Cesare will happily take it instead.

[darkart]

People tend to think Severus is either a neurotically repressed virgin or secretly into illegal-in-several-territories magic-involved BDSM; the jury's out on whether being steaksexual would actually be weirder. (The truth, meanwhile, is painfully boring.)

He watches the bottle exchange with an impassive expression, but Cesare has obvious authority on the subject and so Severus is perfectly content to heed the advice of an expert. He nods, his half-smile more sardonic than anything when he picks up the new bottle, but only because he's bad at socializing. "At home I defer to the expertise of men who drink very much and very expensively," he muses, inspecting the label as he does so. "But the ship has never deigned to command their attendance here."

So, thanks. Or something. Severus is also bad at being gracious. In this moment he seams to mean well enough, though, and the attitude is at least more honest than the affectations he so often wears.

[naytheist]

Cesare doesn't quite know if the backhanded nature of Severus' gratitude is deliberate, but the Borgia smirks and sighs nonetheless. If anything, he's growing used to it. Good manners is often surprisingly absent on this ship for some reason.

"It is a shame that your aficionado friends are absent. You will have to endure a poor drunk duke instead." He rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink before collecting his bottle and giving Severus a nod.

"Enjoy your tryst with your steak. What was your name?" It is best to try and keep track of people when possible. It is helpful to know the name of a person, even if they will only be classed as a neophyte of wine and a disciple of meat.

[darkart]

"Severus. Or Professor Snape, if you're one for formalities." Severus isn't, as his manners show; he behaves for Nuala, but Nuala is as old as the Earth itself and made of magic. Severus has bent his knee for enough people already in his short lifetime that he's loathe to do it merely on principle.

"I know who you are, Cesare Borgia." The incline of his head at that is almost respectful, and honestly quite a lot from someone who isn't bothered about imaginary muggle stations. However, he's circling around to a point he's curious about, which is: "I believe you're unfortunate enough to be acquainted with someone from my home."

The plot thickens.

[naytheist]

"A scholar," Cesare says with a smile and a nod of his head. So he has more learning than his poor knowledge of beverages. Perhaps he is too young, though Cesare himself was young when he found himself provided with various prestigious positions. "In truth, I am somewhat tired of them. I have had my knuckles rapped on by them too often as a boy, I fear. If it is still in good manners for me to do so, I will call you Severus."

The mention of an unfortunate acquaintance causes Cesare to shrug, though he is nonetheless intrigued.

"It sounds as if you may be too harsh on them. I know few people whom I am unfortunate to know." Well, actually, one does stick in mind, though Cesare is not going to volunteer that straight away.

[darkart]

"Sirius Black secretly covets your favor?" Severus sounds skeptical. Because he is quite skeptical. He understands the nature of social politics, however, even if his social graces are lacking; he's hesitant to openly abuse anyone here without properly judging the timing and all else. But with this he decides to roll with it and take his chances. Even if Cesare hasn't been overly vicious at Black, it concerns his sister. He suspects that counts for something a bit more than it would if it were just Cesare.