by Ashiaro Sat Apr 21, 2012 1:22 am
Shaen was nearly silent as he observed the exchanges between Soundtron and the important-looking man who introduced himself as Ken Jackson. Ironically, perhaps, he was the only person in the room who chose this behavior. Tension rose in the room as Mr. Jackson's remarks dripped with sarcasm and Shaen reached up to massage his own shoulder. The bed in the hotel he was staying at was not nearly as comfortable as the thin mat he slept on at home and he tilted his head to the side for a moment, then straightened his neck back out.
He fiddled with the pen in his hand, pausing to stroke the lightly padded grip. After a moment, he touched the nib gently to the paper, scrawling out the names of each of the attendees, along with a few notes about each person. Although he was new on the scene, he knew a little of Soundtron, being from the same district, and this Mr. Jackson seemed to take no hesitation in making himself known. His writing was small and to many, would be considered illegible, a mix of the traditional Latin-based alphabet used for English and some symbols of his own design, a highly specialized form of short-hand. It could be transcribed into a computer system at a later point in time.
He looked around the table, taking careful observations of each of the unfortunate inhabitants of the room. Tension was swirling around, a dark grey cloud in the room. Flecks of red joined in the cacaphony, some emanating from Mr. Jackson and other shards originating elsewhere and there was a harsh screech, accompanied by a shower of obsidian daggers. It was so loud in here and he shut his eyes. Still, the images persisted, engraved in his mind. He reached a hand to his temple and began to massage it. So loud, so chaotic. His eyes continued searching for a quiet place, a sign of peace and of being still. A second survey of the room showed nothing to fulfill his request. He let out a quiet sigh. A third survey followed and the fourth one revealed a single break in the pattern.
That girl. She was odd, but he could not quite place it. He glanced over at her, but his gaze did not stay put for long and soon his attention shifted to elsewhere in the room, where his musically-trained hearing picked up the hint of a whisper. Absently, he tapped his pen against the lined paper a couple of times. This was going to be a long meeting.