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[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin looks back at Dalik.  <I'm not a traitor.  Quite the contrary, in point of fact.  I'm a decorated War-Prince and captain of the Mark III Dome Ship Tyrennian.  Funny thing about propaganda...if you know enough to rise above it, you can use it to your advantage.  You see, the People consider me a hero on the homeworld.  Some very influential people have used my military success to elevate my status to the "face of the Grand Andalite Navy.">

Ossanlin swirls the liquid in his bowl, sipping at it more slowly now.  <This status, ironically, protects me.  I've run operations with the rebels on multiple occasions.  They restrict knowledge of my work with the rebels to preserve my iconic image.  They justify my actions to the government by reporting them as "reconnaissance."  As long as I continue to feed them irrelevant data regarding the rebels, they will continue to allow me to work with them with no repercussions.  Once I'm no longer so useful, they may cast me into the jaws of yaolin...but for now, I'm simply too important to their propaganda campaign.>  He shrugs his shoulders in a human demonstration of indifference, smiling a bit with his eyes.

[Chad32]

Verdana tried to look as adorable as possible at the thought of William being made to look like him. Ignoring the implications of actually stripping a Human down to his skeleton. Human's didn't fare too well when they lost a good portion of their physical matter.

[Terenia]

William's eyes narrow slightly, cheeks flushing as Mercer laughs. "She's at least fifteen," he surmises, sizing Dalik up despite the scowl he earns. "What on Earth do you mean, 'underage'? The brothels begin hiring them as young as thirteen. Some go down to eleven, God help them." He makes a face, indicating his opinions about that particular practice. "And if they're wealthy enough they're married off around the same age. For all I know, she's been promised, bedded, and bred."

Dalik breaks off from her conversation with Ossanlin, giving William a sharp glare. "I have not been any of those things, and if you continue talking about my host like that I'll watch you die slowly." Her lip twitches into a scowl.

William purses his lips, then tips an imaginary hat. "Yes ma'am," he says formally, with only a hint of mockery in his tone. "Forgive me."

Rolling his eyes a little, he turns back to Mercer. "Well, then," he says flatly, brushing at his damp britches. "Seeing as the lady is off limits, perhaps you'd be willing to indulge me instead?" His eyes trail down Mercer's body, considering him. "You seem as though you could use some loosening up."


Dalik turns back to Ossanlin, turning her chair so her back is effectively to William and she is facing the Andalite entirely.

"So you are a traitor, but you're being protected from being billed as such," Dalik summarizes. "The people engineering the war's image found you to be their tool and decided to keep you around." She nods. "It makes sense. "You use one another, and so long as you each serve a purpose life is able to go on."

She lifts her lemonade to her lips, taking a small sip as she gathers her thoughts. "Funny, I always knew the Andalites were manipulative, but I never thought to consider how they manipulated one another. Foolish of me, I suppose." Setting her glass on the table, she gives a brisk smile. "Well,  if I'm being completely honest, I'm relatively shocked to have endured your presence without being decapitated. If you truly are supportive of helping my people find peace and freedom from our pools, then I would certainly be interested in getting to know you better." She hesitates, then sticks out her right hand in a very human offer for a handshake.

"It's good to make your acquaintance, Andalite," she says, trying not to look too anxious about offering a limb to a creature with multiple blades on hand. "Officially, and presumably as allies."

[guitarhero01234]

Merc's eyes widen in surprise as he slowly turns his head toward William. "The hell?" he mutters, trying to process what was just requested of him. He chokes out a harsh laugh, not quite sure what to make of the situation. "Okay, that was just about the last thing I expected you to say, for so many reasons." He runs a hand down his face trying to regain his composure. "Yeah, I don't think I'm interested, but, uh, thanks, I guess?" He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, trying to conceal his amused grin. "Alright, I guess you're from a really different time or culture or whatever from my own. I can't fault you for that. Sorry about the whole fire-arm thing - I guess it was a bit overkill." I really need to get back home. I'm almost starting to like this place. . . .

[Terenia]

It's William's turn to bark a laugh, his smirk broadening into a full-out grin. "And you, my friend, should see the look on your face," he says pertly. "Fair is fair, hm?" Dragging his chair back to the table, he sets his tankard down. "Besides, threatening to turn me into a torch is hardly the way to repay someone for buying them a drink, hm?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin arches an eyebrow at Dalik's abrupt change of demeanor.  <Label me what you will.  I love my People and my Homeworld.  I only want for their collective good...but I'm a warrior of all peoples.>

He shakes his head.  <Why do you think the Andalite collective hatred of Yeerks is so strong?  Propaganda is nearly the pinnacle of manipulation.  The government alters or withholds reports while sensationalizing others in order to control the public opinion.>

Ossanlin regards the hand held out in front of Dalik.  <As long as that liberation doesn't involve the death or enslavement of others.>  He brings his many-fingered hand forward and grasps Dalik's in the human gesture.

[Myitt]

Myitt is exhausted by this point, and she slouches at the counter, swaying a little.

"Bartender," she croaks. "Can I just get a glass of water? Clean." She takes the glass gratefully.

Over the rim of the glass of water, her gaze shifts to the handshake between Dalik and Ossanlin, clarity winning out in her dark eyes.

She licks her lips and sets the glass down, murmuring, "So that's what you've been up to all this time, Dalik the Prime?" Myitt grins a little. "Peace and freedom. It sounds very noble of you. I don't suppose that's the reason why the Empire - and your brother - thinks you're dead?"

[Terenia]

Dalik squeezes Ossanlin's hand gently, then withdraws it, fighting the urge to grimace and wipe her hand on her pants.

"It doesn't take many generations for propaganda to become truth," Dalik says instead. "I wasn't born on the Homeworld. The war had been underway for years when I went through my training. My brothers and cousins absorbed it as reality. Truth."

Lifting her hand, she tugs at the end of one brown braid, eyebrows furrowed. "It took me an obscene amount of time to convince even my own twin to defect, even when I am the Prime. Even when I showed him the corruption of the Empire."

She drops her braid, continuing, "Every transmission I've intercepted from the Andalites is the same story, just with different players. How many of your young warriors, how many of your citizens, consider the propaganda truth? Why shouldn't I believe their hatred for my people is unanimous, after all these years?"

Turning her head to Myitt, she gives a sharp laugh. "**** peace," she says bluntly. "I joined the Peace Movement initially because it was the only semblance of resistance I could get my hands on without dragging Cameron away from her family. They're idealists, and they won't win this war. Peace will never win a war." Her lip twitches.

[Myitt]

"And just how exactly do you plan on winning?" Myitt asks. "You're a one man army?"

[Terenia]

Dalik shrugs. "I won't win this war by myself," she admits. "But I can cause damage. I'm incredibly good with computers. There's a lot you can do when you're able to remotely take control of a Blade Ship's navigation panel, or the environmental controls of their main pool."

[Myitt]

"Even with their security protocols?" Myitt considers Dalik curiously. "That is impressive. And you, what, live on the fringes? Surely you trade for supplies."

She takes a sip of water. "I'm surprised the rebellion hasn't heard of your continued existence."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<Because you, of all people Dalik, should know that no race is completely homogeneous.  The majority of my people may think that Yeerks as a race are a scourge, a blight on the galaxy that needs must be stamped out of existence...just as the majority of your people believe that subjecting unwilling hosts into the yaolin of enslavement for personal gain is not only acceptable, but is the natural order.  But there are those of you who do NOT feel that way, just as there are those of US who can see that you're just people too, and that some of you are not only reasonable, but are downright ethical...at least insofar as where it counts.>  Ossanlin withdraws his hand, smiling a bit with his eyes.

[Terenia]

"Of course you haven't heard of me," Dalik says, waving a dismissive hand in Myitt's direction. "I didn't want you to. I tried working with rebels once. It didn't go well. The Empire, the rebellion, the Peace Movement. Everyone thinks I'm dead, and that's the way I prefer it." She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

She turns back to Ossanlin and nods. "Of course. But experience has taught me that just because there are those who think differently, it's not wise to assume every Andalite you pass in a bar belongs to that group." She arches an eyebrow. "What are the odds that the first Andalite I meet, out of your entire military, happens to be sympathetic to Yeerks?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<Well, given the location, and the statistics at this location, I'd have to say the odds were quite high.  Very few Andalites come here, but out of those whom I've encountered, the vast majority have been sympathetic, or at least open to becoming sympathetic.>  Ossanlin shrugs his humanoid shoulders.  <Unless you happen to frequent other locations where you might come into contact with my people?>  He glances at Dalik questioningly, assuming he already knows the answer.

[Myitt]

"Surely your brother would have known whether or not you're alive," Myitt protests. "And Dalik the Lesser lived with us. He thought you were dead." She purses her lips in amusement. "You really are a magician. That, or you work closely with an identity tactician."