Chanteloup chuckled at Vertiga's mention of an Odyssey, and interjected : "Heureux qui comme Ulysses...". She let him continue on, prompting him with a smile. He was clearly absorbed in his reflection, following her question. It wasn't really a surprise ; the idea she'd had of adventurers were mostly people who run from something, or themselves, with no consideration for what to do when they finally stop running. She just wasn't sure what it was he was running from. Then he said it, and the reveal intrigued her, for it was a revelation. It must have been one of those backchannel bounties, or Gallia had simply not been put in the loop. That her services could have missed something like that... She let him continue, as the maître d'hôtel politely, though quickly, deposited a magnificent cheese tray on the table. There were pungent, strong goat cheeses, moist and creamy Camemberts and mild, complex Comtés. Their glasses were refilled with a different Red, far stronger and earthier to match the cheese. The various smells were beautifully entangled.
She took note of his question with a thoughtful, faint smile, as she was rotating her wine glass to reveal the aromas.
"Perhaps this will surprise you, but I have thought of it, occasionally. To be frank with you, it's... I can't really imagine it. Can there really be a life after... All of this ? I find I have trouble existing outside of this suit of mine. These stars on my shoulders, this station, this Marine... It's me, all of it is me. But I don't know that there's something else. That all of this would cease tomorrow, that there would be no cause for me to be needed, the very notion... Where do admirals go to die ?" She had a pause, terrified at herself and those black thoughts. She had always ignored them, but they were there, they had always been. Where do admirals go to die ?
Aware of the mood shift, she regained her composure and made light of the situation with a chuckle. "Well... My family does have an estate on Paris. The village of Chanteloup, on my mother's side. Hence why it appears in my name. It's modest, sparsely populated, and in dire need of attention, as my parents are fond of reminding me. Once I'm done being celebrated as the great victor of Gallia, it is likely that I will take my heavy laurels and impossible glory with me back to these lands, and give some colour back into their cheeks. I've become fairly capable at giving orders, you see."
She smiled, in an effort to further lighten the mood. "I do long for some peace and quiet, surely there can be some of that in this life... And yours. I'm more than intrigued, monsieur Vertiga. This cabal you speak of, Order, was it ? How powerful could they possibly be, that they would track you everywhere ? And what could you have possibly done to attract the ire of such an organisation ? I can't imagine a benevolent and good-hearted adventurer such as you be at the heart of some conspiracy or other that'd cause you to become someone's mortal enemy. Or did you adventure too close to this Order's secret parties ? It can't have been about women, not again..." She was cutting a sizeable portion of Comté cheese, which she stabbed with the point of her knife and then moved to her plate.
"Don't get me wrong : I understand your being attached to your way of life. To a point, I envy you, even ; the notion, like you said, of going anywhere at any time with no one to answer to but yourself is certainly attractive. But surely a part of you must want to stop running at some point. Is this bounty business so grievous, so menacing, so impossible to address that you would let it condemn you to a life on the run ? And not just yours, seemingly" she said, a glint in the eye.
She had been caught not knowing something. An important piece of the puzzle, no less. She needed a vacation.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
