He has created a stir, then. Or rather, their leaders’ decision not to attempt to annihilate him on sight has. Diplomatic relations may not be the norm with these beings. And yet, he doesn’t think he’s being captured, entrapped or led to his death. As he follows, he looks around as subtly as he can, taking stock of everything. It reminds him of the inside of the Statesman, all metal plating and dimly-glowing synthetic lighting. The chemical smell registers, but doesn’t bother him in particular.
He’s sure, despite his care not to gawk or hesitate, that they anticipate he will be interested in everything he can see as they pass.
The larger open room looks like a hub of activity in comparison to the halls, and while his steps do not slow, he eyes the shanks thoughtfully, and then the larger robots with a flicker of curiosity. They look back, and for the first time he gets the impression the metal companions to the Fallen may not be mere programmed tools. By the time they arrive at their destination, they’re so deep within the structure he’s not sure he could find his way out alone, at least not by walking. They are quite secure with him here, he thinks. Any move he could make would be suicidal. Even if he succeeded in harming one, he would not live to harm another.
His spine straightens as they enter the throne room. Clearly work is going on here, as well, but it’s a far cry from the courtly pleasantries and discussion of Asgard’s royal court. More a command center than a display of royal power. There’s a practicality to that that appeals. For a fleeting moment, he remembers his youth, visiting principalities of Alfheim and Vanaheim with Frigga; the negotiations were rarely important, but the protocol was vital. And he was good at it, elegant and intuitive, able to balance royal pride with polite humility.
If only Frigga were here now, he’d be a bit more comfortable.
He looks at the commander—the Baroness, is it? Better yet---with the mild, attentive civility trained into him at a tender age. Red eyes tranquil but unflinching, face relaxed and neutral, head up, shoulders back. There will be no cringing, but neither will he challenge her.
After Lexoris gives his name, he gives the Baroness a bow, deeper and more formal than he did to his guide. “You do me honor by permitting me to appear before you, Baroness. I am told I was expected. I hope to live up to the expectation.”
no subject
He’s sure, despite his care not to gawk or hesitate, that they anticipate he will be interested in everything he can see as they pass.
The larger open room looks like a hub of activity in comparison to the halls, and while his steps do not slow, he eyes the shanks thoughtfully, and then the larger robots with a flicker of curiosity. They look back, and for the first time he gets the impression the metal companions to the Fallen may not be mere programmed tools.
By the time they arrive at their destination, they’re so deep within the structure he’s not sure he could find his way out alone, at least not by walking. They are quite secure with him here, he thinks. Any move he could make would be suicidal. Even if he succeeded in harming one, he would not live to harm another.
His spine straightens as they enter the throne room. Clearly work is going on here, as well, but it’s a far cry from the courtly pleasantries and discussion of Asgard’s royal court. More a command center than a display of royal power. There’s a practicality to that that appeals. For a fleeting moment, he remembers his youth, visiting principalities of Alfheim and Vanaheim with Frigga; the negotiations were rarely important, but the protocol was vital. And he was good at it, elegant and intuitive, able to balance royal pride with polite humility.
If only Frigga were here now, he’d be a bit more comfortable.
He looks at the commander—the Baroness, is it? Better yet---with the mild, attentive civility trained into him at a tender age. Red eyes tranquil but unflinching, face relaxed and neutral, head up, shoulders back. There will be no cringing, but neither will he challenge her.
After Lexoris gives his name, he gives the Baroness a bow, deeper and more formal than he did to his guide. “You do me honor by permitting me to appear before you, Baroness. I am told I was expected. I hope to live up to the expectation.”