Keeping in touch: ( Tag: Alpha )

Level : 1 Posts : 86

Carmine was going to skin him alive if he didn't get in touch. He was outside Spira, which was not normal for him - he didn't like leaving Spira. Despite what most people understood, he did follow the teachings of Yevon. Most of Gaia had yet to experience the creature that was Sin - so they clutched to their technology and prayed it would keep them safe. Then again... Spira, for the most part, rejected technology, and they still got quite a lot of Sin activity.

So what did he know?

Bevelle wasn't in Midgar. He knew that much. Perhaps that was why he wasn't currently wearing his mask - he felt a little safer out here than he would normally expect to, considering he was out and about. Curling his fingers around the small, glowing orb, he was trying to decide how to do this. Normally, he didn't like going in to courier places. He just contacted a Mog, they came out and did their thing. But he didn't have a way of doing that here, and Mail boxes weren't exactly a 'thing.'

Still, it was best to do this now before he got all worked up about the specifics. His shoes scuffed the strange-feeling road as he approached the postal office. He was wondering why the building was so big, when Mogs were so little...

But he wasn't going to ask that.

Maybe they needed extra room to fly around and have pom-poms. Either way, he reached out and tugged the door open, walking in with a small smile on his face. When he wasn't working, he was always the kind of guy who was ( more or less ) nice to strangers. After all, you never knew who you might need to ask for help, or who might have a hot lead on something.

This Sphere felt different than the ones he normally Junctioned, so he hadn't tried to do so yet - he was going to have Carmine analyze it first.

"Uh, hello?" He asked, looking around for someone. It was possible they were all 'in the back,' coordinating with each other to figure out the best way to deliver mail. But the place just felt a little empty. Rubbing the underside of his lip with the side of his thumb, he considered how much it would cost to send something from Midgar to Spira.

Joy!

( WC - 400 )

Guest

It went without saying that the newborn was coming along well. Though a few days had passed, so perhaps she was not so ‘new’ any longer. Though still apprehensive of the world, and rightfully so, she had followed the suggestion of Swar to the fullest and went out to change the course of her aimless path. And little Mogum had been the guiding light to show her the way.

The life of the employed was not easy… but it was not as difficult as one would assume. Though it was made apparent as to why only moogles ran the Mognet. The little creatures were to everyone ‘mystical’ in the ways they could appear when summoned. Unfortunately, such an ability was not for the (im)mortal woman. Leg work and fare for transportation was hers to endure.

A small delivery had returned her back to Midgar, but rather than home she was implored to return back to the ‘office’. Her ventures around a handful of continents opened her eyes to just how many branches the Mognet had. And irrefutably how large the network spanned. Thankfully, her place of business was not too far from where she and Mogum had made camp; a small rental space overlooking a bar… which always seemed to have a gaudy motorcycle out front. Knowing the little one was looking, she gave a wave to her companion, seemingly waving at nothing to any passersby that would see. Though as strange as she had seen some act within the city, she did not believe anyone would think too much of it.

Tugging her satchel higher on her shoulder, she entered her courier drop-off with hardly a word, but not before taking notice of a visitor waiting. She paused for a moment, openly eyeing the man (as she lacked the proper graces for discrete staring) then shuffled hurriedly to the back in the hopes of getting one of the attendants.

“…someone's at the front…”

Her murmurs could be heard from the back followed by a swift series of ‘kupo’. Occasionally she would poke her head from behind the back corner but said nothing to the man until her ‘instructions’ were given. Alpha inched to the counter while straightening herself as best as possible. She brought her hands in front of her, thumbing her digits in nervous succession. It was obvious she wasn’t used to ‘desk’ work. The quick ins and outs were more her profession.

“..is…” she swallowed lightly while doing her best not to stare too hard at the man. “…is there. Um. Welcome to MogMid; a Mognet sub…si…di…ary. How may I help you today, sir?”

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LPWC: 434

Level : 1 Posts : 86

It was a girl who finally made herself known - a nervous-looking, as though she was worried that he was going to bite her or something. He looked down at himself for just a second. Sure, he was dressed in black, but that was just kind of normal for him. Maybe he needed to think about adjusting his own colour-scheme if he could make people nervous by presence alone.

He had to remind himself that these were work clothes, though. He probably should have changed before coming this far. Unfortunately, this was one of those times when he really didn't have much of a choice - he did what he had to do, and hadn't stopped at the hotel he was staying at, otherwise he might forget to send the stuff in the first place. As often as he'd threatened Carmine with turning her in to rabbit-ear soup or something, she was the only one who ever got violent with him - and only over something like his safety being in question.

Approaching the desk, he smiled at the girl, trying to come off as gentle as possible. He didn't want to upset her, which seemed like it might be a possibility. "Oh, please, call me Matt." He replied, with a soft shake of his head. He popped the glowing sphere into the air, tossing it from one hand, and catching it with the other.

"I have a friend in Spira I need to send this to, along with..." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small letter. He couldn't write, himself, so he paid someone to write down what he asked - but so far, that hadn't screwed him yet! Extra money for something so simple didn't usually breed ire in people. He put the letter on the desk, and the sphere on top of it. "...this letter. If I don't, my friend's going to throw some stuff at me when I get home." Which was not an exaggeration. "How much will it cost to send these to Besaid Island, to a place called C.I.A.?"

This whole situation was a little tense, but he didn't want it to be. Perhaps she was new? He wasn't sure, but he could bet that working with the mognet had to be a taxing thing. Better still, the most interesting part was this girl... was not a mog. That had to make things even more difficult for her... right?

"Forgive me if I come off as rude - but I didn't know that people who weren't Moogles worked with the Mognet. Are you just a desk person?" He asked, curiously.

( WC - 445 )

Guest

Her thumbs continued their drumming pattern over her digits until at last the man approached the desk. Despite her nervousness, she was poised rather calmly as he came forward with his business in hand. As he explained his business, she reached over into a little stack and freed a fresh form. Since writing was not really her strong suit, she instead placed a finger on the required portions of the page and let her energy flow. Words mirroring his own would appear one the page; his name, his business, the destination but not the recipient. She paused and held up her finger as one would hold up a pen in wait.

“…a delivery to MogBes… would be the cost of my fare. You will be billed for the delivery, but… you must pay up front for the letter. It’s 1 gil per letter.” Quickly she flipped her hand over and pulled her head close to it. Her eyes would squint as if reading something small and fine, then just as quickly right herself and place her palm on the page. “…Anything over 2 pounds is considered a parcel.” She nodded to herself then resumed her ‘writing’ pose.

…only to find that her ‘notes’ were smeared on the bottom of the page. She dared not look up at the man, lest he make from of her, but quickly snatched another fresh page and started ‘writing’ again. “Sorry…” she muttered. Oh she was terrible at this! She would be much more comfortable once she was outside again.

When asked about her employment Alpha looked up quite surprised by the question. She had been told that Mognet only hired moogles for their work, but she hadn’t thought it was so big of a deal that even random strangers would know this. Was her presence really that strange? “No sir- I mean Matt. I am a long-distance courier. …it’s just easier for moogle to use the Network. But they hire others for local jobs when business increases. But lately-“ she did her best to imitate her moogle companion “- ‘moogle have not been returning from their missions, kupo. The areas have become more dangerous and few moogle are strong enough to go out and come back unscathed, kupo.’ So they hired me because I am strong.” Humbly, she looked back down at the form and tapped her finger above the ‘recipient’ line. “The name of the recipient? You will also have to inform them that they can pick up the parcel at MogBes after it’s delivered. Any housing costs-” she looked at her hand again. “-will be incurred the longer the parcel is there… upon pick up. However, there is an extra home delivery charge.”

“To ensure the safety of the parcel, the sender- I mean, you are required to hold onto this-“ smoothly Alpha reached around to her back and caught one of the dancing spheres at her back. After a considerable amount of trial and error, she was able to see them, and not only that, but use for especially for the purpose of her job. She handed him her sphere and watched it glow red for a moment before blazing into red-orange hues. Any onlooker would have thought that man was holding fire, but in truth what he held was something more exotic.

“When I have reached my destination,” she explained. “You must pass the parcel through this sphere for delivery. I will receive it on the other end and either deliver it to MogBes, or hand it to you recipient. All letters will be instantly transferred through the moogle network.”

Words: 600
LPWC: 1024

Level : 1 Posts : 86

He watched as she did some sort of spell - without saying a word, or doing any sort of gestures. Fascinated, he leaned just a little closer to watch the words form themselves on the paper she'd pulled out. How she did it was beyond him, but he also knew such magic would be pretty pointless for him - though he watched the words form, he had no idea what they said. She explained the pricing ( while looking at notes? ) for what he needed.

Bouncing the sphere gently in the air, he tried to determine if it was more than two pounds. It didn't feel like it - but he wasn't sure. Certainly, they had to have some sort of weighing mechanism to figure stuff like that out, when things like crystallized energy were involved.

He watched as she brought her hand back to where it had been - leaving behind a smearing of ink. He couldn't help but grin a little bit, though there was no edge to the way he smiled. He didn't want to hurt her feelings or anything like that, he was more amused at how unhappy the mistake seemed to make her.

"Don't worry about it. We all make mistakes, my friend." He replied, simply. She continued talking, as she fixed the form, and he listened, giving her his complete attention. That is to say, he gave her his attention until she finished her Moogle impersonation, even ending it with a small Kupo like he was so used to hearing. He wasn't able to contain his laughter at that. "That was a good impression." He offered, lifting his hands in deference, just in case she was upset that he laughed. He would never laugh at someone for being strong.

"Carmine, of Carmine's Intelligence Acquisition." He bugged her about the name, but she was absolutely refusing to add Matt into it, despite the fact that he was the only one who ever really got his hands dirty. But then again, he couldn't do any of his work without her fact-gathering skills.

"Home delivery, please. She lives in the C.I.A. building, like the rest of us. Extra home charge should be okay." That would be on Carmine - he only had to pay the gil to send the letter! Maybe she'd leave him alone about always having to check in if it started cutting in to her profit margin. Amusement lingered on his face. He tilted his head, thoughtfully, as she explained how the little sphere would need to be held, so he could use it to transport... his sphere?

Interesting, and definitely a little different. But that was all right with him. He picked up the sphere she offered, and held it thoughtfully in one hand. "Will do."

He rubbed his chin, as he looked her over. "You know..." He made a quiet observation, because... well, he was that kind of guy. He saw things, and said them as they were. "If you're working for the Mognet, you should have a Mognet uniform. Did the other Moogles not think that you might... stick out a little bit?" He asked, genuinely interested in the practices of hiring stronger, non-moogle laborers.

( WC - 541 )

Guest

Her impression earned her a bit of a smile from the man, then an all-out laugh that had her stifling fits of giggles as well. She had only been imitating her faithful companion and his adorable voice. She didn’t think the skill was of any impress, but she was oddly glad it had earned her the minute praise that it did.

“…home delivery,” she murmured as she marked it on the form. “C.I.A. building… to Carmine.” She did not bother to ask for a last name. Worse cause, if she arrived and there were more than one ‘Carmine’ she could simply ask her sender for a description if needed. It looked like everything was in order as well as the woman could see. All that was left now was to pay for her fare and the delivery charge for the letter. She walked the form to the back for approval then returned with a strange question asked to her.

“Uniform?”

She thought of the moogle and their little shoulder-bags and… well… naked fuzz. They didn’t really wear clothes, as she observed. Unless there was something, she did not know about. “They… said I could not deliver parcels without clothes,” she stated openly. “So they gave me an allowance to buy some.” She looked down at her attire. A plain collared, fitted shirt with low pockets and a pair of mesh-sided shorts. Not to mention she stepped out of her comfort zone and purchased shoes, boots in fact that strapped just below the knees. They were a little heavy for her liking, but provided the needed support she had been lacking.

“Is my attire… not appropriate?” Had she been able, she would have swear up and down about the fickleness of intelligent creatures. They wouldn’t accept her naked, and now her clothes weren’t good enough? What kind of world was this…

Words: 310

Level : 1 Posts : 86

Without clothes? What... person... didn't wear clothes?

Okay, weirdness. Massive weirdness. But again, he was a walking, talking split personality disorder, so who was he to judge? If she wanted to deliver packages naked, why couldn't she? It wasn't like they all looked oh so different when the clothes came off - at least from their respective genders. Her question made him pause, though.

"No no! Not inappropriate!" His brows furrowed as he tried to put his thoughts back into an order - one that wouldn't insult someone at all. "Hold on. I can explain better with this..." He opened his coat, and began to dig around in several pockets that were all but invisible and seamless on the inside. Carmine had it made special for him, and as such, it was one of his favorite garments. He wore it even when he probably shouldn't, due to climate.

He checked several pockets, fingers patting, hunting, and searching, until he found a small, flat square, with a single indentation in the center. It was perfectly designed to hold a Sphere. "A-ha!" He exclaimed, a smile settling on his face. He set it on the counter in front of him. He continued his hunting, pulling out sphere after sphere - most of them were recordings, not actual memories, so they weren't anything he'd junction. Once he got home, he'd give them to Carmine to sell.

He finally settled on a glowing blue one, and his smile only widened.

"Spheres are how we do almost everything in Spira. This is a recording..." He placed the sphere on the reader, and ran his finger along the base of the miniature platform. Touching a small release, he pulled the end out, which revealed something like a thin layer of cellophane stretched between the edge he tugged out, and the body of the projector.

After a few more seconds, he tapped a few illuminated symbols, and the thin membrane would illuminate, a fuzzy but easily perceptible image flickered into existence. There was a wide shot - showing many soldiers, all in a line, identically dressed.

"That's what I mean. People are readily identifiable by what they dress like, when they're trying to do something like that be a soldier. Mog delivery is pretty easy to identify, because they all look like Moogles with the almost-too-big bags on. That's all I meant. I kind of let myself talk too much sometimes, so if I insulted you, I do apologize."

( wc - 414 )

Guest

If her clothes were alright, then she did not know what he meant by a uniform. If anything, it was a testament to just how little she actually knew of this world. But she was polite in keeping her bothered thoughts to herself, and instead allowed the man to rifle through his seemingly deep coat.

She was mindful of his articles as he drew them out one at a time, beginning first with the thin platform then a multitude of small, glowing spheres. As he rummaged, she withdrew her resources guide from her back and flipped quickly through the ‘item’ section to figure out what the little platform was. Unfortunately there wasn’t an actual image of it, only items that looked similar. All of which were labeled as some kind of ‘reader’. She had to assume this was such.

“Spheres can record?”

She looked to the glowing orbs with interest and wondered if her own could work in the same way. Her spheres did not look the same as his, nor did their consistency look the same. His own were solid in shape a form, while hers seemed to waver as if ready to blink of out existence at any given moment. They were perhaps more ‘alive’ than those in his possession. A tangible part of herself given a small, unsuspecting shape. But his spheres were strange, especially the one placed on the recorder. And like magic an image was played on the space of the cellophane. A group of men lined up and all wearing the same thing. A uniform.

“Oh… then yes. I offered to wear their uniform,” she explained. “But it was as I said, they insisted on giving me an allowance.” Apparently female nudity would have been terrible for business. “However,” she continued, apparently feeling a little more comfortable with conversation. “…they offered to let me wear a costume they usually use for special events. But… It was a little too heavy… and they thought it wouldn’t be attractive for a large moogle to walk around.” Smoothly, she dug into her bag. “But they let me keep this-“she placed a little toy on the counter. It was bright red with orange accents and large paws to boot. It looked like a miniature lion that stood on two legs. “His name is Muu the Mumba.”[/color] She explained with a considerable note of child-like glee. “But no,” she concluded. “There is no uniform.”

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Level : 1 Posts : 86

Her question was met with a smile - it was only amusing because people who weren't from Spira rarely saw how useful the Spheres could be. They recorded, but they were so much more than that. He nodded, gently. "Spheres can do just about anything, if you have the right one. Some Spheres are almost like... echoes of people. Their life, crystallized into a single..." He tapped the top of the sphere, as if to explain it all by simple motion.

He could imagine the Mog uniform being... loose, as the best descriptor he could come up with. After all, their uniform seemed to be... well, bag. If she walked around with just a bag over her shoulder, she might illicit the wrong response from less-than-friendly admirers.

The little toy, though, got his full attention. He crouched just a little bit, so he was eye level with the little orange lion. "That's really cute." Matt said, and from his smile, he wasn't just saying that to say it. He refrained from reaching out and touching it, mostly because he was worried that he might break it. He didn't know how fragile it was.

"But!" He stood straight again, scratching his lower lip with his thumb nail. "If you were interested, I might be able to help you out with a uniform! Or at least something that is a little more in line with the idea of a courier, you know?" He replied, a smile crossing his lips. He tugged on the hems of his coat. "Not that there's anything wrong with what you have on, of course - but everyone likes to look the part, you know?"

Which was why he dressed the way he did, and wore a mask when he was working. He wasn't going to be mistaken for anything other than what he was. It was safer that way - if you were easily identifiable as friend or foe, it would often change the way someone was perceived. In a business where people expected Moogles, it might be better for her to come off as a courier, rather than... not a courier. It'd save her a lot of hassle and explanation every time she went out on a delivery.

Of course, he wasn't entirely sure why he was concerned one way or the other - what she wore wasn't really his business. But it was rare that he got to be genuinely helpful with something that didn't involve violence.

( WC - 416 )

Guest

She hadn’t realized how much she liked her Mumba until the little toy was complimented. He certainly was cute, at least, that’s what she agreed upon learning the meaning of the word. Although it was not very practical in terms of fulfilling a role, but she found that that was not a problem for her. It was different than Mogum in that regard, but was just as adorable. However, when she picked up the doll to put him back in her bag, she noted a strange kind of resistance from his little paws against the counter. As if he was trying to resist her pull, he clung but was then freed. She brushed this off as nothing and secured her little companion as Matt continued speaking. His exclamation effective stole her attention.

She hadn’t given much thought to her attire beyond what was agreed to by her employers, but from the way it was emphasized by this man, it seemed like it was a matter of importance. She only nodded mutely when asked if she wanted to look the part. Perhaps it would make her deliveries quicker if she didn’t have to reply to all the questions about her ‘not’ being a moogle. It seemed silly that a change of clothes would make things that much easier for her.

“It will help?”

She muttered, not quite sure of what else to say on the matter. “Where do I need to go?”

Words: 241

Level : 1 Posts : 86

He nodded, easily, at her question.

"If it's easy for people to recognize you're a courier, people won't ask you silly questions about it. Or... may not. Either way, it's an identifying thing. People want to know you're friendly and all that." Not... potentially dangerous. He did want to see the giant moogle costume... but he'd leave that alone for now.

"Actually! When you go to deliver this, when you get it to the C.I.A.? You'll meet a little Vieran girl named Carmine. Tell her I told you to ask Donny for an outfit - he's the guy that makes all sorts of awesome stuff for us. He makes me new coats when I ruin the other ones." Donny was a lifesaver - literally. The man had been coming up with new things to make his coats stronger - he was hoping that maybe, one day, Donny might come up with a bulletproof coat that didn't feel like armor.

Ah, the dream.

His dark eyes were gleaming. "Carmine might give you a funny look at first, but I swear, she's just a little up-tight. I've been trying to help her get over that, though. Donny's really laid back - he'll get you taken care of, I'm sure." A subtle nod - he hoped that Donny would be there when she arrived. Unfortunately, Donny, like himself, spent a lot of time in the field, though for different reasons. Either way... hopefully things would work out well for her.

"Do you need anything else from me?" He asked, curiously.

( Wc - 261 )

Level : 7 Posts : 11

As exchanges went, she could admit that this was by far the most interesting she had had. Perhaps the moogles had been right to let her handle this one. Everything went off with minimal disaster. And the casualty was only a single piece of paper.

She a mental note to ask for this ‘Donny’ when making her delivery to the C.IA., but for the mean time she simply took the form. “No,” she smiled. “We are finished. Thank you for visiting MogMid; a subsidiary of MogNet.” She bowed humbly and deeply. “Please have a nice day.”

And with that, she took the form to the back to the finalized. Though, she could have swear that as she turned, she spied the red fluff of several poms from behind the door.

-End-

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Lpwc: 2120
Exp: 212

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