Mag hadn't expected a semi truck. She also hadn't expected the semi truck to be fully equipped with carpeting, a couch, overhead lighting, a TV and DVD player with some Disney movies, and a small pile of art and photography books.
“You guys got all this together in an hour?” said Mag.
“Fifty minutes. It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” A man got out of the driver's seat of the truck. He was all that Mag could have wished for: black suit, black sunglasses, nondescript brown hair and average build, lukewarm smile. Unlike the crowd from the lake, Celestia didn't seem to bother him at all. He took off his sunglasses. “For the next couple of days, if things go as everyone expects, I'll be your driver, butler, guide, whatever you need. Call me Jeff.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Jeff,” said Celestia. She offered a hoof. Jeff took it without hesitation and bowed over it.
“And you'd be Mag Wilson. A pleasure.” He held his hand out.
“No armed guards?” said Mag, shaking his hand once.
“Do I count?” said Jeff. He opened his jacket to show a shoulder holster. “Oh, I almost forgot. Ellie is sitting up front. She's the backup. Ellie!”
A small, broad face appeared in the wing mirror of the truck and waved before going back to whatever it was doing. Celestia waved back. Mag didn't.
Jeff smiled indulgently. “You'll be seeing more of me than her, I think, but we're both at your disposal.”
“Do either of you have any special skills you'd like to share with me?” said Celestia.
“I'm glad you asked. We're in a hurry, so I'll explain fast. Ellie's the brains and I'm the brawn. Yesterday, Ellie was a field biologist working in Mexico and Honduras. You can expect to see her taking notes whenever her hands aren't on the wheel, and she might or might not have questions. As for myself, I work as a kind of personal security adviser slash bodyguard. My background is in military intelligence.”
“How very interesting,” said Celestia. It sounded like she'd learned a lot more from that speech than Mag had. “I don't make you nervous, I note. Well done.”
“People have been getting nervous? I apologize on their behalf.” He bowed slightly, possibly sarcastically or possibly not.
“There's no need to apologize for anyone. If I'm the only one of my kind to ever come to your world, then who's to say what is or isn't the proper reaction? I don't blame them for skittishness—or you for a lack thereof.”
“It's nice of you to say so. If you would both step this way, please? We're trying to move as quickly as possible to keep ahead of the press and the yahoos.”
“Very well,” said Celestia. She teleported the three of them into the back of the truck. Jeff looked around with curiosity but, again, a total lack of fear.
“Well we've got ice in our veins, don't we just,” muttered Mag. Never mind the sharp suit, Jeff's insouciance was getting on her nerves. He smiled at her and sat down in a nearby chair that had been bolted to the floor.
“I'll be staying here to keep the two of you company for the duration of the drive.” He reached up to a rope hanging from the rolling door and pulled it down. There was a moment of darkness and then the lights turned on. “First of all, your majesty, Ms. Wilson, this down here is the handle to open the door. Ellie is going to lock it from the outside for the sake of appearance, since we're trying to blend in with the rest of the traffic, but if you'll look here you'll see an emergency handle that opens the door whether it's locked or not.”
“And I can teleport us out at will,” said Celestia.
“And you can teleport us out at will,” said Jeff. “And this is the TV. It works like this...”
***
Mag opened her book, another book, a much better and more beautiful book. “The Candlestag,” she read, and peeked at Luna, who nodded encouragingly from the top of the great stag's back.
“The Candlestag,” read Mag. “A wanderer who teaches dreamers the central and only tenet of his religion: that we must melt to see.”
“Ayuh,” said the Candlestag. He was 20 feet tall, insofar as height meant anything in dreams, with a great rack of antlers with a burning candle standing between and on the tip of every tine. Wax dotted the dirt under and behind him in a path that stretched back over mountains and plains and lifetimes.
“Even he,” said Luna over Mag's shoulder.
“That's a good picture of him,” said Mag.
“It doesn't entirely capture the manliness of his profile, I feel,” said Luna, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Hrgh,” said the stag, blushing.
Luna landed back between his antlers. “Nor, being in pencil rather than paint, does the portrait depict the velvety nut-brown shade of his fur. Credit where credit is due, though; the artist had a talent for expressing lighting, and well expresses the way the glow of the candles dance in his eyes. Do they not?”
“He's four times taller than you,” said Mag.
“You are thinking again. Did we not agree to relax, Mag?”
“Think and dream are the same in French,” quoted Mag. That had been in the book too, the book of Pasithee, the book of book of book of books. A name to conjure by in the magical world, apparently.
“Have you seen the mask?” said Luna.
“Hrgh?”
“No? Then never mind. I have a second question. When I do this, can you feel my heartbeat?” Luna lay down again on the Candlestag's back.
“Jesus,” said Mag.
“Harrumph,” said the Candlestag.
“Hm?” said Luna. “A question of your own for my friend? What is it?”
“Hrgh.”
Luna stood behind Mag again. “He wishes to know whether it aches to be so real.”
“Sometimes,” said Mag. “What is the mask of Pasithee?”
“You're thinking again.”
“Sorry.”
***
Mag woke up. She'd drooled on the couch and it had gotten its vengeance by leaving a corduroy-patterned imprint on her cheek. The truck had parked and the door was open. Jeff and Celestia were gone. Ellie sat where Jeff had, writing something in a notepad.
Ellie was short and round. She had tousled hair, stubby fingers, and eyes that never stopped moving. A secret agent disguised as the kind of woman who knitted.
“Guh?” said Mag.
Ellie, without looking up from her writing, pointed to the floor at the foot of the couch. Mag hoisted herself up the back of the couch and looked down to find a piece of paper covered in rows of swooping symbols written in black Sharpie, above a cartoony picture of Celestia and Jeff walking away from a truck, both smiling.
Luna stepped in to translate.
“Allow me. 'My dear Mag,
“'I hope you feel refreshed after your nap.'”
She still felt terrible.
“'Mr. Jeff wanted to wake you so he could explain the situation, but I insisted, citing medical reasons. Ms. Ellie is there to take you to a private interview room, where a small group of officials want to ask you some questions about, among other things, what you intend to do next. In my own way I've made it clear that your freedom and wellbeing are supremely important to me, and I have every reason to believe these people, their associates, and most especially their superiors hope to establish a long-term working relationship.
“'They have questions for me as well, regarding my abilities and intentions. You can expect to see me by dinner, or even a little after lunch. If you don't see me after dinner then you both may assume that I've ceased to cooperate, and at that point, Mag, I leave you to Luna's care. She can be silly sometimes…' hmph. '… but she's a powerful ally and a good friend.' Sister, think not for even a moment that base flattery shall distract me from that jibe about being silly.
“Ahem. 'A few comments before you get to it. Remember that the three of us are here both to help and to get help, and all of our actions should be with that in mind. If they aren't trustworthy then we'll leave and look for someone who is. We aren't here to fight, only to talk.'
Yours,
Celestia'
P.S. Always on the record! Yes, even during confidential interviews.
P.P.S. I gave them a translation of this letter.'
“So ends the letter, followed by an amusing drawing.”
“Thanks,” said Mag.
Ellie looked up.
“Just talking to the princess in my head,” said Mag.
Ellie smiled. She was missing half her teeth.
***
Armed marines in dress blues took her to a little room with bad carpeting, overbright lights, and what couldn't possibly be anything except a one-way mirror. They sat her down at a table with firm deference and stepped behind her. No one searched her, not even her purse, which they let her keep on the table.
A woman in a dark blue pinstripe suit walked in with a thick collection of manila folders and stapled printouts. She addressed Mag without sitting down and didn't offer her hand. “Hello, Ms. Wilson. My name is Georgia. I'm here to discuss your experiences with the being called Princess Celestia. I would also like to confirm a few things and, in all candor, to get a sense of your personality. You are under no obligation to answer any of these questions, but you may wish to remember that many of them pertain to already public information.” Georgia sat down.
“None of you seem to have last names,” said Mag.
“We like to keep an informal office,” said Georgia.
“Who are you people?” said Mag.
“Independent contractors working closely with the Unites States government. Don't worry; it's all legal, and arranged with the best of intentions on all sides. Shall we begin? Good. In your own words, please describe the events pertaining to the Princess.”
“Sure,” said Mag. “I was taking a break from my job—I just got fired from that, by the way—and smoking by the lake, when a flying unicorn princess came out of some supernatural fog and passed out in front of me. I poked her in the earhole and she woke up. She flew me home and fell asleep on my couch, and I went to sleep as well. Then it was morning. I made coffee and went grocery shopping and brought back breakfast. Breakfast sucked.” Mag looked into the mirror behind Georgia. “You guys getting all this?”
“I'm sure they are,” said Georgia. “Please continue.”
“We went to her world to collect samples. She didn't find anything useful, but on the plus side, we found another flying unicorn princess. This one lives in my head because she has no body. Oh, no one told you about that one? Huh. Say hello, Luna.”
“Greetings,” said Luna.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Georgia stood and left the room.
“Rude,” said Mag.
Georgia came back in after a couple of minutes. “I apologize. My briefing was incomplete and I needed to confirm something. Greetings, Princess Luna. Ms. Wilson, please continue.”
“Where did I leave off?” said Mag.
“The part where we found one another,” said Luna.
“Okay. We went home, Celestia drew some pictures of her people, she made dinner, Luna taught me magic in my sleep, and today we went to another world and got a tome of dark and dangerous magics. Then we came back and got buried under a wave of nerds before being abducted by the Men in Black. The end. Any questions?”
“Give me a few minutes, please,” said Georgia. She pulled several pages of handwritten notes out of a folder and read it all the way through while Mag drummed her fingers on the table in what she hoped was an annoying way.
Georgia shut the folder. “You seem to have forgotten certain events. Would you mind starting again?”
“Sounds like you're comparing my version of events with Celestia's. Can I see those notes you've got, to refresh my memory?”
“I'm afraid these are confidential at this time,” said Georgia.
“I'm hurt by your lack of trust, Georgia.”
Georgia sat back and fixed Mag with a look. “During interviews like this, one must always consider the psychology of all parties involved. That's why I like to perform research.” She thumbed through the stack of folders next to her. “Here we have your arrest record. Her majesty told the interviewer that you mentioned borrowing your parents' vehicle without permission. You never got around to mentioning the rest of your record to her, unfortunately, such as your history of shoplifting. One wonders how you got a job at a convenience store with a record like that.”
“No convictions, and that was a long time ago,” said Mag.
“Nine years and four months,” said Georgia. She pulled out another folder. “I also have your college records here. The Young Socialists Club? Really?”
“Oh no, I've been found out! I'll never act in this town again. But seriously, it was a phase. You know what they say about experimenting in college.”
“I also read your final sociology essay. I found it... intense. Your professor filed a report to the mental health department of your school.”
“I got an A, though. Did you read through that whole pile today?” said Mag.
“Yes, I did. As of this morning, my job has been to learn as much about you as I can as quickly as I can. You are an unknown quantity in a situation already full of unknown quantities, and your influence over her majesty could make you a dangerous, dangerous person. Ms. Wilson—actually, may I call you Margaret?”
“No,” said Mag.
“Ms. Wilson, I've been reading about you all morning, and so far the best I can say for you is that you probably mean well. I've written something very similar in my report about you. The report is currently unfinished, but the only part I have left to write is a commentary on the contents of this discussion. Am I going to go back to my desk and type phrases like 'unhelpful and dishonest,' Ms. Wilson? I should inform you that this report is going to be widely read by key political figures all over the world tomorrow morning, Ms. Wilson. I have no particular emotional investment in your future, Ms. Wilson, but I strongly suggest, Ms. Wilson, for your own safety and happiness, that you cut the bullshit.”
Mag slapped the table. “Cut the bullshit? Tell that to your creepy, nameless organization full of creepy, nameless people, 'Georgia.' You've all been playing power games all day. I'm here to help Celestia and Luna, not you, and that's why I'm being cooperative, not for king and country. Yes, cooperative. I came of my own free will, I told you everything I was comfortable telling you, and I haven't tried to walk out. Doesn't that sound cooperative to you? This is my cooperative face. I know it's my cooperative face because if I were wearing my uncooperative face, someone would have pepper sprayed it by now. Right?” She twisted in her chair to look at the marines, who were staring straight ahead. Come to think of it, they didn't have pepper spray. They had handguns.
“This department is only a few hours old, so forgive us for not having a name or any business cards yet,” said Georgia.
“You know what? Fine. Here's the rest of it. She's the most feminine thing I've ever seen. She's a goddess. She's Girl Aslan. She's a Lisa Frank accessory given life. She's proof of the one thing we all know deep down, the thing that eats us when we can't sleep, that none of us is good enough. Look at her and then think about all the things you did that you aren't proud of and tell me you'd list off your whole arrest record on day two of meeting her. How about you, Ms. Georgia High and Mighty? Military background, comfortable in interrogation rooms, deadpan voice. How far have you taken your interrogations, hmm? Imagine explaining the necessity of waterboarding to Her Majesty Princess Celestia.”
“Anything else?” said Georgia.
“Lots, but I could take a break. You had something to say?”
She steepled her hands. “Nothing except that we all appreciate this sudden burst of honesty, as that's why I'm here in the first place. Please continue.”
“Uh, sure. You know she helped me clean a floor? I don't mean she swept it. I mean some people trashed my store while I was out, and we spent hours getting everything off the floor, from dried melted ice cream to broken glass. She hums show tunes to herself when she works, you know that? They sound like show tunes, anyway.”
“Cleaning?” said Georgia.
“Cleaning. Isn't that in the other interrogator's notes?”
“Interviewer, not interrogator, and I am not at liberty to divulge that information at this point in time.”
“And here I thought we were getting along. Yes, cleaning.”
“Hold. Why am I only hearing all of this now?” said Luna.
“Oh, dammit, you caught all that.” Mag gathered herself. “Here's the deal. I was angry literally all the time when I was younger. I did some stupid things and got myself arrested once or thrice, until one day a judge told me to grow up and I decided he had a point.”
“And I tried to plunge the world into eternal night. No, I want to know more about this mess. Do you recall any part of the process where she looked especially ridiculous? If so, can you describe it in enough detail that I can recreate it in a dream for teasing purposes?”
“Probably nothing you can work with. She tripped over a bucket, but only slightly. I thought it was sort of cute when she looked over at me to make sure I didn't see.”
“A pity.”
“Pardon me for interrupting,” said Georgia, “but what was that about eternal night?”
“Ask me again in my interview,” said Luna.
“We haven't arranged for one yet, your majesty. Frankly, most of the people in this building were sufficiently skeptical of your existence that we didn't make allowances for it. However, I think I should ask you whether you need anything.”
“A cigarette,” said Luna.
Mag thunked her head against the table. “THANK you. Oh my god.”
Georgia quirked an eyebrow. “The cigarette is for both of you?”
“We smoke,” said Luna.
“I see.” She turned to the mirror and gestured. “They'll see what they can do.”
“You know what else would be good?” said Mag.
“Food,” said Luna.
“Dinner is in forty minutes. Until then, let me prompt you a bit. Earlier you said you went to the store. Was Princess Luna with you at the time?”
“No,” said Mag.
“You were alone, then.”
“Oh, I get it. Nope. Celestia came with me using some kind of illusion shapechangey thing to make her look human. She made me talk to the store owner.”
“And she says you went home after that. Okay, that matches up.”
Well, well, well. Celestia hadn't told them about the eldest. Why not? They'd have to have a talk about that.
“Is something on your mind?” said Georgia.
“Yes,” said Mag. “I was just thinking that Luna hasn't heard a lot of this. We've been rushing around as well, so there hasn't been much time to tell each other stories.”
“I think I should ask that again. Ms. Wilson, is something on your mind?”
“Food and tobacco,” said Mag.
Georgia had been watching her face. “Yes, you've mentioned, but I'm beginning to think you're leaving something out again. Would you like to tell me what it is?”
“As soon as I figure out what you're talking about, yeah. Can I get a hint?”
“I wish you two would stop chasing each other's tails and get on with this interrogation,” said Luna.
“Then let's move on,” said Georgia after a short but pregnant silence. “There is a recently broken phone and wall behind the convenience store where you used to work. Would you like to comment?”
“Yeah, I was leaning against the wall making random phone calls when they both exploded. That was when I found out I can do magic. It was a complete accident, by the way.”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Do you have any idea how little there is to do up there in the mountains?”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“I'm going to keep asking you. Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“You're being unhelpful again,” said Georgia.
“Okay, how about this: I decline to answer.”
“Disappointing,” said Georgia. “Do you have anything else you'd like to tell me that pertains to the beings called Princess Luna and Princess Celestia?”
“Did I mention I can do magic?”
“In passing,” said Georgia.
“If that cigarette is here then I can show you something cool,” said Mag.
Georgia stood up and went to the door. Someone handed her a cigarette, a lighter, and an ashtray. She brought them to the table, set them down in front of Mag, and waited.
Mag picked up the cigarette with her right hand and snapped the fingers of her left while thinking sunflower pottery to herself. A small flame burned at the tip of her index finger. She lit her cigarette with it, and grimaced. “Menthol.”
“Menthol? Is that what that flavor is called? I rather enjoy it.”
Oh hey, looks like I figured Meg right, going by that little outburst. Aren't I proud of myself right now.
I think you should leave the description as it is, personally. It's a great back-cover blurb - it says just enough to be intriguing, while leaving the actual details open and vague enough to make you want to see for yourself. Anything more would just be superfluous.
AMAZING chapter as always
...if she can light her finger on fire and not get burned, what about the rest of her body/over her clothes?
anyway, keep up the good work
let the description as it stands I think it works just fine.
I am surprised that Luna did not steep up in megs interview and tell Georgia to give her the notes and or just tack them as meg has the magic to do just that.
all in all a really good chapter to a growing story.
More bad news: I need to take the next week off for essay-writing purposes. this may be a good thing use the time to jot down notes as you have ideas, you may be surprised ware ideas come from.
Good luck with your school work.
Harts Fire
*wipes away tear* She's learning! I feel so proud. Her general misanthropy may be misplaced, but there is such a thing as 'acceptable targets,' and shady not-government agencies dragging you away to not-interrogate you for trying to help someone in need definitely qualify. They may think they're being 'nice' about it, but put yourself in Mag's shoes and tell me that wouldn't piss you off.
I think the description tells exactly as much as it needs to. Anything else would just add quirks for the sake of having them. But maybe wiser minds can come up with something else.
Good luck with school! I hope you kick it's as right back at it!
When Georgia keep calling Meg "Mrs. Willson" to point off she is getting pissed, I cannot help but think in Agent Smith.
The description is okay, to add more would be spoilers.
And now I'm picturing Luna, back in her own body six months from now, shopping for nicotine patches.
*reads chapter a second time. Sees "show toons".*
"show toons"... "show toons"... Looks wrong... Oh man, it's "show tunes"!
I found this fic at 11pm. Finished reading at 5 am. Worth every second. The humor and the prose in your writing is amazingly entertaining. I can't wait to see where you take the story from here.
I see several votes for leaving it the way it is, so I guess that's what I'm doing unless someone makes a good case for some addition.
5931208 Figured Mag right? I'm trying to remember what you wrote about her.
5931234 Thanks!
5931255 Luna decided to take a hooves-off approach to the situation, and Mag can't do that yet. Thanks for the support, by the way. This is the second time you've encouraged me to pay attention to school.
5932071 I fixed it earlier after you said something. I knew something was wrong with that, but it was coming on 4:00 AM and I'd run out of brain gas half an hour before.
5931268 The sudden burst of spare time I have for schoolwork is already paying off.
5932932 Good thing you found this on the weekend, then. It's also good that you found this fic when you did, instead of six months from now, when it'll be at least twice as long.
My god. I'm going to kill people, aren't I.
5934296
This here: 5839162
It's pretty neat how consistent you're keeping everyone's personalities. Meg has been struggling with this sense of personal inadequacy she has about herself for the whole story so far, so was expecting her to start feeling that way about Celestia sooner or later, but that matched up so well with what I had guessed, I actually had a little moment of déjà-vu there.
5934420 Well done! But aren't consistent personalities the bare minimum for characterization in long-form stuff? Any changes in characterization have to follow logically and believably from story events, and anything else is... I'm looking for the right word. Nonsense? A waste? Destructive to every other aspect of the story? It'd make no sense, is my point.
Unless you're trying to suggest that I stole your idea, in which case NUH UH NUH UH
5936185
Of course I'm not. The word that originally came to mind was "predictable," but that made it sound too much like a bad thing to me and I just couldn't think of a better way of putting it. "Everyone keeps behaving like themselves and I think that's awesome" just sounds so stupid when I phrase it like that, though, nevermind how really goddamn hard it is to get that kind of thing right in the first place and then keep getting it right for the duration of a whole story.
She could've technically just stayed silent for most of the interview. I wonder if she forgot about that part in the heat of the moment or if she thought that 'Georgia' was going to be aggressively invasive even if she respectfully refused to answer. Or maybe she gives humanity lots more credit than she herself thinks she does by letting them try to respect the boundaries of what knowledge she's willing to go dole out? Last part was probably me over-thinking.
5931256
Some people would think that the existence of human beings happily forming not-government-agencies that-are-totally-legal-man preforming not-interrogations with a dozen military personnel in the same room not-staring not-threateningly at you would qualify as a reason to be at least a little misanthropic.
*Edit, summary's fine.
5937268 "Everyone keeps behaving like themselves and I think that's awesome"
Ironically, I understood this sentence immediately. Thanks. And I was kidding. You specifically said you saw this coming because I'd set it up, so stealing your idea would require a time machine and a steady supply of paradox dampening rods.
5937282 Celestia as much as asked her to cooperate with the interviewer, so she tried her best to be helpful, sorta. What Mag would have done if Celestia hadn't asked is an open question. Go full on Omerta and stare Georgia down in perfect silence? Do the same thing as she did here?
I haven't thought about it much, but in that situation I think she would still have answered Georgia's questions. For one thing, Georgia is the interviewer/interrogator rather than Mag's personal attorney or a neutral party, so Mag has no reason to trust her when she says Mag is under no obligation to talk. For another, this is the United States and she's in a private room with two soldiers and a scary lady who has questions related to national security, and depending on who you ask, that's a good way to end up tied to a chair with a bag over your head.
5938444
Hmm, yeah I guess. But I'd have thought that Celestia's word to cooperate only went so far until Georgia started actively threatening Mag's physical well being.
Assuming not. Either Mag should be extremely terrified of the suits who can easily apply enhanced question-asking techniques to her in that controlled facility; or less than impressed given that she has the explicit backing of two powerful pony princesses, one inhabiting her body to boot, rendering her effectively immune from them bagging her and tazing her until unconscious, waking her and repeating until she's more compliant to them. When Georgia started actively bullying her to force information out of her, I thought that Mag would've either told them straight up to go fuck themselves or spill her guts all over the floor, thus ruining the carpets.
Also do we have any actual proof these people are who they are; or did people looking sufficiently shady wearing suits and shades just up and carted them away while offering little to no information transparency?
5938444
Considering that she has dealt with law enforcement before, she probably has the necessary personal experience to know better than to ever believe that, anyway. Your rights only protect you as far as people are willing to go to break them while thinking they'll still get away with it - and right now, they can probably get away with anything and have the public shake their hands in well-earned gratitude for it. The consequences of this encounter will literally and figuratively shake the foundations of the world, one way or another. Normal rules simply don't apply anymore.
5938563
There aren't exactly all that many organized groups in the States that could pull off the same kind of thing at the drop of a hat. Plus, I don't think Celestia is that gullible. She can probably tell legitimate authority when she sees it, with her experience.
5938706
Hence why I thought it was mildly strange that Mag, given her personality, met them halfway instead of either cooperating fully or telling them to go shove it when the interrogator basically told her to spill her guts or be generously re-educated.
Probably not, it was just an off the cuff comment. But i'm not quite sure what it means to look like legitimate authority. A bulletproof semi coming to take me away to an extralegal facility to 'encourage my cooperation' doesn't really quite strike me as legitimate authority by any means. This goes doubly so for an extra-dimensional alien who didn't know what a car was until two days ago.
5938891
She didn't want to disappoint Celestia - which will be the explanation for a lot of things she does before this story is over, if I'm any judge.
As to the other thing... well, I suppose it's debatable. You ever watch a private security guard and a police officer side-by-side, though? You could probably tell that there's something different between them, even if you dressed them in the same uniform. It's not just about training, either. It's something about the way they feel about their jobs; their body language is just not quite the same. Something to do with confidence, I think. If even I can spot that, I figure that with thousands of years of experience, Celestia ought to be able to do it a lot better.
5939058
Possibly. But it just seems odd to me that you can feel legitimate authority like an aura or something. Especially since authority, legitimate or otherwise, was historically expressed via a vast array of different customs and cultures. What I was attempting to allude to was that what may seem like the actions of a person bearing authority may not feel the same elsewhere.
Heavens knows that the local diplomat I was a distant cousin to in Hong Kong was a piece of shit that treated everyone else below his station like literal garbage. He was certainly an authority, and being around him made me want to spray febreze to freshen up the local atmosphere.
5939124
Cultures differ, but some things are just essential human nature. Body language is part of that. I didn't say it necessarily makes them pleasant, just that there's the possibility she generalized from her interactions with the officials of other intelligent species. "Leader of the pack" is something that translates easily even when observed in animals, after all.
Umm... while, yes, Marines do not normally wear their covers in a building, they ALWAYS wear their covers while under arms, even indoors. Armed Marines in their Dress Blues would still wear their covers indoors. I say this as a formerly active duty US Marine.
[I'm transplanting this comment to its proper chapter because I accidentally posted it in chapter 16]
5983245 Ooh, thanks. I can fix that.
I love it when people correct factual and logical errors.
The Candlestag is 'Yankee'?
Conversation Eight
Conversation Eleven
Conversation Twelve
Conversation Fifteen
Sorry.
6544682 What, are you keeping a text file of mistakes or something? Because that is awesome. Not that you need to go out of your way, but point out anything you feel the need to. Just knowing these were there is like finding ants in my box of Cheerios.
e: I found one too. I hate to say it, but maybe I should give this whole thing a reread. I can look for fuckery and make notes about things I might have forgotten.
Alondro sliiiiiides over to the Candlestag, "I'll stop the world and melt with you."
Candlestag "Go away..."