trans_9 | Widow's Insight [Open, Cut for Spoilers]

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Widow's Insight [Open, Cut for Spoilers]

The first thing that Natasha Romanoff - as she had allowed herself to be called in recent years - had done after she had popped out of a gooey pod (and subsequently gotten clothed, briefed on the situation at hand, and retrieved her weapons) was familiarize herself with the spaceship that she had found herself on. It had taken a long while - the size of the ship made the SHIELD Helicarrier seem akin to a SmartCar - but she’d scoured as much of the place as she could, because it was always useful to know one’s bearings.

Especially in a situation like this, where it seemed as though literally anything could happen. And a situation that I’ve never really been trained for. I mean, the Chitauri attacking New York - that was one thing. But this. This is something even I never expected. Because, really, who actually expects to be plucked out of your home by a multiverse hopping spaceship made out of living...something. I was just getting used to the idea of Norse gods being real, and alien invasions becoming a semi-regular thing. She was, she knew, a long way from the simple world of spying, espionage, and assassinations that she was used to. But, then again, this could just be much of the same. Only in space.

That was, though, still somewhat of a new concept to her. Sure, she'd had colleagues who had gone into space - Iron Man with his penchant for pushing the limits of his iron armour specifically came to mind, as did some fellow SHIELD agents - but Natasha had always had two feet on the ground.

You know, except for those moments where she was piloting an alien aircraft to save the world or something.

Still, true to her training, Natasha had taken it all in stride. She wouldn’t allow herself to be fazed by the situation at hand - to do so would be potentially life-threatening, and while Natasha was always prepared for death (because it could happen so easily in her line of work), she wasn’t at the moment ready to die. Only if it means saving all of reality, she mused as she walked up towards the Observation Deck. If anything can clear off all of the red in my ledger..it's this.

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Also wandering about the Obs Deck, trying to figure things out, is a young-looking woman wearing a white beret and a navy blue double-breasted military jacket, with rank bars, starburst epaulets, and red-gold trim, a pistol and sword at her waist.

She has a military bearing in her stride, a bit like you'd see in S.H.I.E.L.D. officers, focused eyes that miss few details, and certain calluses visible to the keen observer on her hand. Weaponry calluses.

Cleary someone not to be...

...what the heck is sitting on her shoulder?

Natasha kept a watch on the woman from the corner of her eye. One wouldn't be able to tell, because of how casual Natasha was about it, unless one had the training to be able to detect such things.

She noted the weaponry calluses too. Clearly, this woman had some experience behind her.

The thing on the woman's shoulder, on the other hand...

That's...different.

Honor Harrington finally notices you, and nods in greeting.

"Hello. Are you one of the current roster of crew, or...?"

Upon closer examination, the thing on her shoulder looks a lot like a cat...if you gave it the arboreal forelimbs of a lemur or monkey.

Six of them in fact. And green, self-aware eyes. It jumps off of the military officer's shoulder and perches itself upon one of the meat cushions, peering at you curiously. Mainly at your hair.

Natasha nods back at honor. It's a very subtle nod, but one which Honor would no doubt have noticed.

She nods at the weird cat-thing, too, if only to be polite. Besides, for all Natasha knows, the cat is an intelligent being in its own right.

"New arrival," she said. "As in only having arrived today. Natasha Romanoff. Hello." She holds out a hand for Honor to shake, if she's so inclined to do.

Edited 2012-06-09 21:21 (UTC)

The cat-thing 'bleaks' softly at you in reply. He's still starring with frank curiosity at you red hair. He hasn't seen natural hair that color very often in the circles he runs in.

Honor takes Romanoff's hand, pausing slightly as she feels your own calluses: closer up, you note that her frame and muscle mass is more developed than the human average. On contact, the skin of the hand she offers to you feels...strange.

"Commodore Honor Harrington, Royal Manticorian Navy. Also a new arrival."

She nods to the arboreal cat creature.

"And this is Nimitz."

'Nimitz' stands up and gestures with his forelimbs twice.

As a spy, it's likely that you'd be able to read the A.S.L. for 'Hello." after a moment of confusion: the gestures shifted slightly over hundreds of years

Honor's focus returns to you. "It's pleasure to meet you, Ms. Romanoff. It seems there have been a number of people...decanted from the pod rooms on a scattered individual basis recently: I may be able to introduce you to some of them in the near future. But regardless..."

She frowns for a moment, before deciding not to beat around the bush.

"Snatched from our worlds and drafted into a grand multiversal war with unparalleled stakes: thoughts, reactions, concerns?"

Natasha offers Honor the sort of smile that she only gives to those who sees as an equal. The way Commodore Harrington movies, the way she speaks...it's clear that this is someone from a world that Natasha understands.

"I can't say I've ever heard of the Royal Manticorian Army. I'm an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. SHIELD, for short." Because boy, was that less of a mouthful to say.

She signs back a "It's very nice to meet you," to Nimitz before shifting her attention back to the Commodore. "And please, Commodore Harrington. The pleasure is mine."

The woman's way of speaking reminded Natasha of herself in her early days. Formal, words that were possibly carefully chosen, and proper. Natasha herself had become a lot more colloquial in her speech, but you couldn't stay that way for too long after working with the likes of Agent Phil Coulson.

"I only just finished fighting off a horde of aliens sent by an Asgardian god of mischief attempting to wreak havoc back home," Natasha said. "From there, it's not too much of a leap to accept this," she said honestly. She was, after all, trained to take most things in stride.

Even if it was something as entirely insane as this.

"How about yourself, Commodore Harrington? Any thoughts to this fresh bit of insanity?" She also signed the same question to Nimitz. You know, because it's polite. And the creature is clearly intelligent, since it can sign to Natasha.

Nimitz is tickled pink by your courtesy, and has come to the conclusion that gingers are his favorite type of two-legs!

Honor raises his eyebrows at Natasha's own story.

"...Wow." She says quietly. "...Really? I...wow."

Her military bearing drops for a moment, and she rubs the back of her head sheepishly.

"It's clear I'll have to adjust my expectations...Loki, really?"

Nimitz, on the other hand, takes the time to sign out a response to your questions.

[It is a war] He says empathically. [Wars start among you mind-blinds because you do not know how to talk to each other. You must learn to talk to your enemy. Then the war will end.]

Honor notes Nimitz's reply. "That's all very good." She says in a grave tone. "But we have to stay alive and protect our own. For that we have to fight."

Nimitz cocks his head to the side.

Honor blinks, then sighs to herself. "I know, I know." She frowns for a moment to herself, then smiles faintly. "I'm glad."

You can't help but guess that there's something going on beneath the surface.

"Nimitz is wise," Natasha said, offering Honor the slightest of smiles. "I didn't take Loki down on my own," she then added gently. "I was on a team, and Thor was one of my teammates." Because that needed to be said. Yes, Natasha had a specific set of skills, and she was probably at the top of her field, but she wasn't Thor or Captain America. She felt that she had a ways to go before she got there.

"But I did get to interrogate him." That had been fun. If a little harrowing. Loki had read Natasha well, to say the least.

"Nice." Honor replies gamely, scratching at Nimitz's ears as he sat on the meat chair.

She returns a slight smile of her own. "You've done quite extraordinary things, it seems...I'll have to see if I can keep up with you."

"It's not a competition," Natasha said, politely. "Though I'm certain that being here will give all of us many moments to prove our worth." And wipe away any bad karma that they may have accrued.

Quite true, quite true.

"I hope we'll be able to prove ourselves under non-warlike circumstances...but unfortunately, the odds are against us."

Honor scoops up Nimitz and deposits him on he shoulder. She opens her mouth, no doubt to say something pithy.

Then suddenly, her stomach growls. Rather, rather loudly. And the collected Lady Dame Commodore Harrington suddenly looks very queasy

"Ah...do you know where the officer's mess is on this ship? Or any food at all...damn you, Meyerdahl Beta mod..."

"In as far as I know, there is no officer's mess hall as such, but there is a mess hall on this same level," Natasha replied. "Though from what I've heard, the food there is not the best. And slop-like." Because things like that need to be said. "Nutritious, though."

"...What."

Honor looks...

...incredibly distraught at this news.

"Are there no other options? My metabolism..."

"I hear there's a tavern around here somewhere..." Natasha said. She pulled out her omni-comm and consulted it. "It seems to be in the city." She paused and looked up at Honor. "I get the feeling that when they call it the city, they don't quite mean New York."

Honor's eyes glaze over with a sudden relief.

"A tavern. Yes, that sounds good..." She says distantly.

Nimitz, looking at the somewhat distracted Honor with a bit of concern, signs to Natasha:

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Honor's eyes glaze over with a sudden relief.

"A tavern. Yes, that sounds good..." She says distantly.

Nimitz, looking at the somewhat distracted Honor with a bit of concern, signs to Natasha:

<She needs to eat a lot. Her body has a very high metabolism. It can be alarming sometimes.>

Natasha deftly signed back, /Yes, I understand. I am not sure what the tavern might sell, though./ Truth be told, she needed to figure out the food situation here as well. Granted, Natasha had been trained to survive on anything, but she'd developed a recent liking for shawarma.

"Oh. There's also a beer tree." She'd found that on her expeditions before coming into the Obs Deck. "The beer is actually rather good." What? She was Russian. She could handle copious amounts of alcohol.

Honor frowns at Natasha, the narrows her eyes.

"Huh. You're telling the truth."

Is beer going to be her only good source of tasty carbs? She hopes not.

But...food.

Food's important.

"No reason to lie to you," Natasha replied. "Though I can understand why you might think that. I wasn't sure if I was imagining things myself," she added.

Honor looks surprised.

"I have no reason 'not' to trust you." She says. "You've done nothing to make me suspicious, so I'm willing to believe you."

Plus she can totally taste you emotions.

Natasha nodded her head. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't trust me, though," she said, not knowing that Honor could taste her emotions." Given the situation."

"Noted."

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Widow's Insight [Open, Cut for Spoilers]

Spider of Honor!

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Heyo: how's your ledger doing?

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