Does N'tho want to be here? No. He'd rather be back on Sanghelios, hip deep in the seemingly endless reconstruction. He'd rather be hunting jiralhanae, driving the filth out of this part of the galaxy. He'd rather be in meditation in the training yard of the 'Sraom keep, muscles straining but mind clear of any fear or doubt.
Does what N'tho wants matter? No.
He is here, on this little human world called Chorus, as part of a diplomatic detachment sent to meet with its newly independent leaders to ensure things like rifles and swords remain a non-essential part of their future relationship.
He's here to make sure that if they don't, then at least the sangheili win.
But in the meantime, oh dear alien jesus there are so many humans. All around him. Being small and weird and human at all times. He's just trying to do his job patrolling around their base so he can report back about what it's like, and this apparently cannot be easy.
And unfortunately for N'tho, here comes the smallest, the weirdest, and the most human of them all. Even in her armor she maxes out at maybe 5'5", but the size difference between her and this very, very large elite doesn't seem to deter her as as she flutters right in to his personal space. "Excuse me! Hi. Hello." She sounds so peppy, which is her default, but this time she really can't help herself.
There are real aliens on her planet. There are real aliens on her planet and she is alive to see them!! She's about to boil over with excitement just thinking about the possibilities. Maybe they could tell her more about the artifacts she's studied. Or translate a few ancient pieces of text they'd never been able to figure out. And oh, not to mention the physiological, developmental, and mental differences between their two species that she's dying to learn.
Forgive her if she practically bounces on her toes while staring up at you, N'tho. "Are you in charge here?"
N'tho bristles a little, uncertain. It's like watching a big dog trying to decide whether or not to run away from a kitten. Nobody's come up to him like this, especially not any of the humans. They seem to (totally understandably) find him intimidating. He likes that. He can work with that. This is weird.
"I am not," he replies, dipping his head down a bit. He's been told this is polite to do when speaking with humans. It does not bring him to their level, he's just too tall, but they say it comes off as a gesture of good will, and less aggressive.
Less aggressive is good, given the number of guns he's seen lately.
"If you need to speak to my superior, I can direct you. But he is a busy man."
Sure, she may have come up to him without warning, but at least she doesn't seem to be one of the humans-with-guns. Doesn't even have her medical scanner on her at the moment, though now she wishes she did. Maybe he would've let her scan him... If it would even work on him in the first place.
"Oh?" Ah, of course he's not the one in charge. What are the chances of that?
She leans up when he ducks his head down, trying to get a better look at his face. It could be seen as rude, she realizes, so she tries to be somewhat subtle about it.
"I'm sure he is busy," she says after a moment, planting her feet flat on the ground again. "It's fine, maybe you can help me instead! I'm Dr. Grey, first off, and you are...?"
"N'tho 'Sraom. Fleet of Retribution, Special Warfare Group." And the most junior member of his unit, but that's not an important detail, right?
This human is a doctor. That's... worrying. It's also, confusingly, a title of respect among them. Why anyone would voluntarily take the name of the craven class that shames others by carving them up is beyond N'tho, but that means this human might not be a literal doctor. He hopes that's the case. If any of the team finds out he's been talking to one, that would be so embarrassing.
"That's a mouthful, Mister Fleet of Retribution. Let's just stick with-- N'thosraom?" She says it a little too fast, like it's all one word, but aside from that it's a pretty good attempt.
Even though that's kind of a mouthful too. But, that's how it goes. Different species, different culture. She'll dive right the hell on in to some word-salad in this case, she doesn't even care.
Because aliens. Real aliens. On a planet covered in mysterious alien stuff.
She claps her hands in excitement, clutching them together as she resists the urge to squirm in place. He's apparently found the most energetic human alive, rest his soul. "Okay, well, we can start off simple! Can you take me to the head of your medical division? Or do you have access to general anatomical educational material that I can borrow and brush up on it while I wait? If we're going to be working together, we should probably make sure we know how to avoid killing each other! Don't wanna go looking for a heart and find a liver in its place or something like that, you know! How embarrassing!"
"N'tho will do," he puts in gently before Dr. Grey continues.
Gods have mercy, they have a whole system for this, don't they? They teach one another how to make people bleed without honor. It's as fascinating as it is horrifying.
To make matters worse, it kind of makes him feel like an idiot when he has to say, "We do not have a medical division at present."
The "at present" is a thing his suddenly emerging sense of shame added, to make him feel a little better about not having a thing the small alien clearly expects them to have.
"Ideally, our mission is to not require such assistance."
Also, oh man nobody wants to be seen with a doctor hanging around. They're awkward.
"We have several huragok, but they do not... communicate. As such."
They're even worse but at least having a huragok poke you with its weird little repair tentacles is kind of dignified? They know what they're doing, generally.
Emily stares at N'tho for a long moment before her helmet slowly tilts to the side. "Excuse me?" The question is still as politely enthusiastic as ever, but deep, deep down in the pit of her manic little soul, there lies bewilderment and judgement.
"You don't... have a medical division?" This doesn't even sound like a case of oh we had a small team that accidentally died, he's making it seem more like they never had one to begin with. At all. And that's just silly.
But they have huragoks! Whatever those are! Clearly this has just been a misunderstanding! "Oh! Is huragok your term for a medic?" Because there is a big difference between a medic and a doctor, naturally. Just ask Doc.
Stop judging him, tiny human. Stop. N'tho is quickly distracted from trying to defend this very good and honorable tactical decision, though.
"Huragok are a species of engineers. They repair what is broken," he explains. "It is... regrettable, but on occasion a soldier is wounded without shaming himself. Assistance by huragok is, in these cases, acceptable."
A huragok did not treat N'tho's eye. He might not have problems if one had. He twitches his mandibles a little, this is an awkward conversation.
So much judgement, N'tho. How can her tiny human body hold so much judgement? Where does it come from? Where does it all go when she's not using it?
As ridiculous as it seems for a fleet to have no medical personnel at all, she does have a lot of questions. Is it just this particular group that doesn't have them, or are they all like that? How can an engineer possibly repair a flesh-and-blood body? What are their casualty rates like? Who thought this was a good idea?
One step a time. She decides to start with the most intriguing first, her voice curious as she asks, "What exactly do you mean when you say someone can be wounded without shaming himself?" N'tho hasn't even met awkward yet. Dr. Grey has found something strange. When she decides something is interesting and that she wants to know more about it, it's over. N'tho doesn't know the hell he's invited in to his home.
It's a bit like getting caught in a bear trap, really. At some point you have to just chew the limb off and run.
N'tho is trapped here. He is very big and very intimidating by human standards, but neither of those factors is useful when the field of battle is talking about weird culture clashes. N'tho has fought humans, he's fought brutes, he's fought the flood, and not once has he ever wanted to flee but now he's ever-so-casually scanning for an escape route. He tilts his head a little in a thinking gesture, but mostly it's to give his good eye a better shot at the other half of the room. No dice.
N'tho is not a diplomat. He knew humans were weird but Dr. Grey's incredulity about this is beyond what he'd expected. The only thing he can really do is keep talking.
"It is inherently shameful to be wounded in battle, to allow your enemy to get such an upper hand," he says. "It is better to die on the field exacting vengeance upon your enemy than to crawl back bleeding. Only the weak son of a weak clan does such a thing, and brings them great dishonor. A scar is a mark of failure to keep your blood unspilled."
Says the one with a scarred eye. He's kind of an expert on that.
"However, there are times when a warrior merely glimpses death. He destroys his enemy at the cost of his body, he moves to die for his victory. Such a warrior should be permitted to live. The field is already bathed in his blood, and there is no further dishonor to be faced in surgery. One who would demonstrate such sacrifice cannot be shamed by surviving it."
Oh, no. He's not getting away. Despite there being too-little space between them already, she's leaning in as if he has his own gravitational pull. Her need to seek out answers is almost literally turning physical. "So, wounds are a cause for dishonor?" It's a difference in culture, then. A bit of an extreme difference. Injuries happen in war- that's the entire point. To find them outright dishonorable seems a little intense.
Fascinating.
She's not as well-versed in sociology as she is in some other subjects, but she can't help wondering what sort of society could mold such a belief. Seems like for every question she gets an answer for, she comes up with four more to take its place.
Emily doesn't miss that suspiciously-scarred-looking eye of his, but she doesn't press that subject. Yet. Seems insensitive and possibly offensive, based on what he's told her so far. Best keep it simple and safe for now. "Really? There's no treatment for superficial wounds? Isn't it better to survive and fight more enemies on another day than it is to die from a loss of blood or an infected scratch that could have been healed? You lose a valuable fighter over something easily fixed. Isn't it inefficient?"
"It is better to raise strong sons that will not bring down their brothers in battle in such a way," N'tho says, a little snappishly. His back is to a wall here, his doubts too close for comfort.
By his own criteria, this makes him a weak son. His service now is more about penance for the shame he brings to his house than it is for honoring them. He can fight, he can do his job, but he will never have a place in an honor guard or hold his own in a position of authority on Sanghelios.
N'tho is a failure to 'Sraom, and the fear and uncertainty he's felt since he was wounded make him a failure to himself.
The human would not understand, he knows, so he attempts to push past this.
"Humans are more fragile than my people. I do not hold them to a Sangheili standard, but I will not hold myself to yours."
"Maybe." No mention of daughters, she notices, but that's almost to be expected. Could be a matter of the female half of the species being physically unable to fight. Sexual dimorphism is a hell of a thing. But it could also just as easily be a matter of this hyper-masculine logic having no room for females. Either one is a valid possibility, and she'll be sure to get to the bottom of that- at some point.
She's been momentarily side-tracked by the feats of the human body, currently. Good going, N'tho. "Yes! We are! But you wouldn't believe what the human body can recover from, it's amazing!" Yeah, that probably wasn't actually the most diplomatic or polite thing to say, but this is Dr. Grey. The one who gets genuinely excited by horrific, traumatic injuries. "Would you like to see some examples?" Emily, no.
"Is this something humans show guests?" N'tho asks. He's sort of alarmed. They just revel in pure, craven survival, don't they? This is sounding extremely possible to him.
"I will confess that I am somewhat out of my depth here, Doctor."
He shoots aliens, he doesn't talk to them usually.
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spacejail2016-06-29 01:35 pm
no subject
Does what N'tho wants matter? No.
He is here, on this little human world called Chorus, as part of a diplomatic detachment sent to meet with its newly independent leaders to ensure things like rifles and swords remain a non-essential part of their future relationship.
He's here to make sure that if they don't, then at least the sangheili win.
But in the meantime, oh dear alien jesus there are so many humans. All around him. Being small and weird and human at all times. He's just trying to do his job patrolling around their base so he can report back about what it's like, and this apparently cannot be easy.
no subject
There are real aliens on her planet. There are real aliens on her planet and she is alive to see them!! She's about to boil over with excitement just thinking about the possibilities. Maybe they could tell her more about the artifacts she's studied. Or translate a few ancient pieces of text they'd never been able to figure out. And oh, not to mention the physiological, developmental, and mental differences between their two species that she's dying to learn.
Forgive her if she practically bounces on her toes while staring up at you, N'tho. "Are you in charge here?"
no subject
"I am not," he replies, dipping his head down a bit. He's been told this is polite to do when speaking with humans. It does not bring him to their level, he's just too tall, but they say it comes off as a gesture of good will, and less aggressive.
Less aggressive is good, given the number of guns he's seen lately.
"If you need to speak to my superior, I can direct you. But he is a busy man."
no subject
"Oh?" Ah, of course he's not the one in charge. What are the chances of that?
She leans up when he ducks his head down, trying to get a better look at his face. It could be seen as rude, she realizes, so she tries to be somewhat subtle about it.
"I'm sure he is busy," she says after a moment, planting her feet flat on the ground again. "It's fine, maybe you can help me instead! I'm Dr. Grey, first off, and you are...?"
no subject
This human is a doctor. That's... worrying. It's also, confusingly, a title of respect among them. Why anyone would voluntarily take the name of the craven class that shames others by carving them up is beyond N'tho, but that means this human might not be a literal doctor. He hopes that's the case. If any of the team finds out he's been talking to one, that would be so embarrassing.
"What kind of help did you need?"
no subject
Even though that's kind of a mouthful too. But, that's how it goes. Different species, different culture. She'll dive right the hell on in to some word-salad in this case, she doesn't even care.
Because aliens. Real aliens. On a planet covered in mysterious alien stuff.
She claps her hands in excitement, clutching them together as she resists the urge to squirm in place. He's apparently found the most energetic human alive, rest his soul. "Okay, well, we can start off simple! Can you take me to the head of your medical division? Or do you have access to general anatomical educational material that I can borrow and brush up on it while I wait? If we're going to be working together, we should probably make sure we know how to avoid killing each other! Don't wanna go looking for a heart and find a liver in its place or something like that, you know! How embarrassing!"
She's definitely a literal doctor.
Surpriiiiise.
no subject
Gods have mercy, they have a whole system for this, don't they? They teach one another how to make people bleed without honor. It's as fascinating as it is horrifying.
To make matters worse, it kind of makes him feel like an idiot when he has to say, "We do not have a medical division at present."
The "at present" is a thing his suddenly emerging sense of shame added, to make him feel a little better about not having a thing the small alien clearly expects them to have.
"Ideally, our mission is to not require such assistance."
Also, oh man nobody wants to be seen with a doctor hanging around. They're awkward.
"We have several huragok, but they do not... communicate. As such."
They're even worse but at least having a huragok poke you with its weird little repair tentacles is kind of dignified? They know what they're doing, generally.
no subject
Emily stares at N'tho for a long moment before her helmet slowly tilts to the side. "Excuse me?" The question is still as politely enthusiastic as ever, but deep, deep down in the pit of her manic little soul, there lies bewilderment and judgement.
"You don't... have a medical division?" This doesn't even sound like a case of oh we had a small team that accidentally died, he's making it seem more like they never had one to begin with. At all. And that's just silly.
But they have huragoks! Whatever those are! Clearly this has just been a misunderstanding! "Oh! Is huragok your term for a medic?" Because there is a big difference between a medic and a doctor, naturally. Just ask Doc.
no subject
Stop judging him, tiny human. Stop. N'tho is quickly distracted from trying to defend this very good and honorable tactical decision, though.
"Huragok are a species of engineers. They repair what is broken," he explains. "It is... regrettable, but on occasion a soldier is wounded without shaming himself. Assistance by huragok is, in these cases, acceptable."
A huragok did not treat N'tho's eye. He might not have problems if one had. He twitches his mandibles a little, this is an awkward conversation.
no subject
As ridiculous as it seems for a fleet to have no medical personnel at all, she does have a lot of questions. Is it just this particular group that doesn't have them, or are they all like that? How can an engineer possibly repair a flesh-and-blood body? What are their casualty rates like? Who thought this was a good idea?
One step a time. She decides to start with the most intriguing first, her voice curious as she asks, "What exactly do you mean when you say someone can be wounded without shaming himself?" N'tho hasn't even met awkward yet. Dr. Grey has found something strange. When she decides something is interesting and that she wants to know more about it, it's over. N'tho doesn't know the hell he's invited in to his home.
It's a bit like getting caught in a bear trap, really. At some point you have to just chew the limb off and run.
no subject
N'tho is not a diplomat. He knew humans were weird but Dr. Grey's incredulity about this is beyond what he'd expected. The only thing he can really do is keep talking.
"It is inherently shameful to be wounded in battle, to allow your enemy to get such an upper hand," he says. "It is better to die on the field exacting vengeance upon your enemy than to crawl back bleeding. Only the weak son of a weak clan does such a thing, and brings them great dishonor. A scar is a mark of failure to keep your blood unspilled."
Says the one with a scarred eye. He's kind of an expert on that.
"However, there are times when a warrior merely glimpses death. He destroys his enemy at the cost of his body, he moves to die for his victory. Such a warrior should be permitted to live. The field is already bathed in his blood, and there is no further dishonor to be faced in surgery. One who would demonstrate such sacrifice cannot be shamed by surviving it."
no subject
Fascinating.
She's not as well-versed in sociology as she is in some other subjects, but she can't help wondering what sort of society could mold such a belief. Seems like for every question she gets an answer for, she comes up with four more to take its place.
Emily doesn't miss that suspiciously-scarred-looking eye of his, but she doesn't press that subject. Yet. Seems insensitive and possibly offensive, based on what he's told her so far. Best keep it simple and safe for now. "Really? There's no treatment for superficial wounds? Isn't it better to survive and fight more enemies on another day than it is to die from a loss of blood or an infected scratch that could have been healed? You lose a valuable fighter over something easily fixed. Isn't it inefficient?"
no subject
By his own criteria, this makes him a weak son. His service now is more about penance for the shame he brings to his house than it is for honoring them. He can fight, he can do his job, but he will never have a place in an honor guard or hold his own in a position of authority on Sanghelios.
N'tho is a failure to 'Sraom, and the fear and uncertainty he's felt since he was wounded make him a failure to himself.
The human would not understand, he knows, so he attempts to push past this.
"Humans are more fragile than my people. I do not hold them to a Sangheili standard, but I will not hold myself to yours."
That's diplomatic and polite, right?
no subject
She's been momentarily side-tracked by the feats of the human body, currently. Good going, N'tho. "Yes! We are! But you wouldn't believe what the human body can recover from, it's amazing!" Yeah, that probably wasn't actually the most diplomatic or polite thing to say, but this is Dr. Grey. The one who gets genuinely excited by horrific, traumatic injuries. "Would you like to see some examples?" Emily, no.
no subject
"I will confess that I am somewhat out of my depth here, Doctor."
He shoots aliens, he doesn't talk to them usually.