Mingle - Emergency Potluck

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WELCOME POTLUCK

Greetings, residents! Those more observant sorts among you may have noticed a large influx of very crowded ferries. In order to welcome our new residents en masse, Town Hall is holding a potluck in Town Square. Please bring a dish if you are able and make a new friend!

All of our newest arrivals need only bring themselves. We look forward to welcoming you all into our community, and may your lanterns always be lit.

This event is open to all! In light of our new influx of prospective players following the Great Sail Migration, we've decided to offer a small public event to tide everyone over until the TDM this weekend.

Comments

[astrogator]

'I certainly care about it,' says Tayrey, with a definite nod and absolutely no cultural context. 'One's a luxury product where I'm from and the other's completely taboo for my people.' To the point that before she went out-of-sector, her only reference for meat-eating was horror stories about the stranded and starving. Even seeing it on a table alongside other foods was something that took adjustment, to say the least.

'That means I appreciate the labels, very much,' she continues, stepping closer to Anzu. I don't know any of your Holy Tongue, but I'm a quick learner, yes?' Tayrey flashes him a quick smile, before sticking out a hand by way of greeting. 'Peace and prosperity to you. I'm Lieutenant Ari Tayrey, of the Tradelines.'

She's hoping that might put a stop to the dearest and darling talk. It must be the uniform that gives her presence; she's sorely missing it right now. Passing for lieutenant young even by Tradeline standards taught her to be conscious of such things.

[amourtician]

"Lieutenant, then," Anzu says; for just a moment, he looks awkward, at a loss, as he looks at Tayrey's hand—generally, when first introducing himself to women, someone first asks if the other party shakes hands or not, and the answer is almost always, only when not shaking hands would offend. But then, maybe the Lieutenant's name is red salted herring. His expression smooths out, and he shakes Tayrey's hand. His grip is slack, positively limp. His hand is hotter than a person's hand is wont to be. "Lieutenant Ari or Lieutenant Tayrey? I'm sorry to say I've not heard of the Tradelines, and thus cannot make any deductions on which one's thy surname." He grins; it's not precisely a joke, but it's clearly intended to break the ice.

Peace and prosperity ... it's not a formulation he's familiar with, but it's got that irritating quality he likes to think of as semantic rhyme. It could be something a Jew says, especially one from a particularly mercantile branch of the Diaspora. And the Lieutenant might be a namesake of his husband, too ... but then, he tells himself, he's just anxious to find more Jews here, and only because it's the first time in his entire life that he's somewhere where he knows there's unlikely to be a minyan. Even at the Tzarist Court, there'd been enough others like him and his twin.

He decides to go for the oblique way of fishing for information.

"As for the Holy Tongue ... thou hast an interest in language?" he asks; he cocks his head to one side, and looks at Tayrey with only barely disguised curiosity. "It'd be precious little use to thee here; it is not a vernacular and has not been for well over a millennium. So I must assume thou appreciatest language for the aesthetics and the challenge of learning."

[astrogator]

Tayrey's grip is strong, her handshake firm, Company-taught. She's faintly surprised by what she perceives as his lack of enthusiasm for the gesture, but she continues regardless, bringing her left hand over to briefly clasp his forearm, Tradeline-style, and only then letting go, hands dropping back to her sides.

'I appreciate that you're seeking clarity,' she says with a small smile. 'Lieutenant Tayrey. Arilanna Lorenza Kittredge Carrington Tayrey,' she pronounces, giving her full name the weight accorded by someone clearly proud of her heritage, for whom each of those words carry meaning. 'But that's too much to be practical. I'll answer to Lieutenant Tayrey, or just plain Tayrey, or Ari Tayrey, first and last, if you-' want to be Kisharin about it, she almost says, but she catches herself, because the probability of him knowing what she means by that must be approaching zero. She amends: '-like a little formality but not titles.'

She does like to answer cultural questions as thoroughly as she can, after all - but now it's Tayrey's turn to falter, hearing his explanation about his Holy Tongue.

'I appreciate a challenge, too,' she tells him, trying to hide her uncertainty over her error, 'but I figure I made the wrong assumptions. I took your Holy Tongue for your vernacular. If it's not, maybe I only need enough to read the labels. I have four languages, and I learn quickly enough, but I do like my work to have utility.' She's not bragging; it's normal for Tradeliners to be bilingual at the very least. 'My first is called Company Standard - what's yours then? And your name?' He knows all of hers now, after all.

[amourtician]

Lt Tayrey reminds Anzu of no one so much as the youngest of the Nostalgines, the Red Guard irregulars during the long years of revolution—and thus he's charmed, and a little wistful. So much so that her elaboration on the standard handshake barely registers, when usually it'd be front and centre.

"If thou'rt comfortable with it, Lieutenant Tayrey, I think I'm quite all right with a little formality," he says. He does note to himself that she comes from a place with similar careful gradations of formality and the implication of formality. Well, that's a comfort. One less strange cultural gap to trip over, one less excuse to fall on his face.

"The Holy Tongue is used daily, but not for mundane matters," he says to her question about the nature and use of Hebrew. "Many know just the basics, plus a the roots what made it into the current vernaculars. Certainly, I can teach thee enough to understand the labels."

"As for my first language—" he pauses, and smiles in a sort of preening way, allowing himself a bit of vanity. "Well, nu. Much like thee, I speak several. My mother tongue and first language is the same—Yiddish, if we're not hair-splitting about dialects, and ah, sabesdiker-loshn if we are, in which case my first language is the literary standard. And I know several languages of the nations, though there, too, the line between dialect and language is not always so clear."

"And I'm called Anzu Menelikov, Lieutenant. Doctor Menelikov, if thou prefer'st formality, and Anzu Tamiratovitsh if thou find'st professional titles a touch too formal."

He has a hunch that insisting on familiar forms might just alienate the young lieutenant.

[astrogator]

Tayrey nods eagerly, committing all the information he has just given her to memory, especially the names. He has several, too, it seems, and she's curious about the significance each carries - if that Tamiratovitsh is a family name, an inspiration name, a name chosen, or something else entirely. Carrying so many herself, and having shifted all at once from "Citizen Kittredge" to "Apprentice Tayrey" at what she considers the most formative turning point of her life, she can't help but take an interest.

Yet it's a question for another day. If he's agreeable. Should they get to know one another better. There's a fine line between taking an interest and prying, and her experiences have taught her to be cautious about it.

Instead, she focuses on the languages. 'I'd appreciate it very much if you taught me a little of your Holy Tongue, Doctor Menelikov' she says brightly. 'And-' she hesitates, but it's only momentary, '-in my culture we rely on fair contract. That is to say, if someone gives you something of value, you give them something in return. So you both benefit, and you're on equal terms, no unspoken debts. If you're to teach me, I'll pay, or else I could teach you some of our Sector Standard in return, or trade in goods.' All perfectly reasonable, offering as much variety as she can in the hope he'll find something acceptable.'

[amourtician]

"Friend Lieutenant, I would be delighted to teach thee!" Anzu says. And his expression confirms that he means it – he's not just being polite.

(He did, without precisely intending to, slip into the modern style of address common by the Talons Commune.)

"In exchange, I would be more than happy to take thee up on thine offer, and learn thy Sector Standard. But! A condition. A condition. I shall teach thee not merely the words, but their context, too. And in exchange, thou shalt do the same—teach me not just the language, but also something about the people what speak it. That way, should either of us ever need to use the knowledge, we'll be prepared to look out for cultural nuances"

He beams, excited about the opportunity, by the novelty of learning a language from a different world — not the way he seems to have learned the language spoken here, but deliberately, through his own intellectual effort.