1965-04-08 - Apples are Red, Welcome to You
Summary: Mosaic arrives in NYC and meets with Black Bolt.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
blackagar mosaic 

Blackagar is sitting at the large table that sits at the very center of the public areas of the private wing, the sound of quietly running water and faint music is all that can be heard outside of the faint hum of the air circulators. On the table in front of him is a jigsaw puzzle that seems to be a charicature of New York with various sights blown up to larger proportions than the rest of the city. There is a glass off to one side, half-filled with water. It seems that the puzzle is about 3/4 of the way done, and he patiently sets one piece after another in place, lost in his own thoughts.

There is no sign of his coming, no alert of his passage. He is simply there one moment, off to the side from Blackagar. He has the shape of a man, but he looks like a reflection on a clear window. His features are that of a handsome, strong, fit black man, or at least, the ghost of one. At the edges the lines of his image become indistinct, blurry. When Mosaic speaks, it is as if the voice comes from a far remove, and can only be heard in the relative quiet. "Blackagar Boltagon. I come from the Genetic Council." It is said that, lacking any claim on physicality, he can traverse the whole of the world in mere minutes, so he might mean that very literally.

There is a pause in the careful and deliberate placing of piece after piece upon the table, fitting one after the other together, each interconnecting to form the whole. He turns to look in the direction of that slight shimmer of a presence, recognizing Mosaic and giving him a nod of his head. He listens to the preamble, and one brow raises upward, lips twitching just slightly in what might be just a bit of bemusement to go along with that silent query. The expression alone seems to beckon Mosaic to continue.

"Will you permit the link to facilitate communication?" asks the specter, though what 'the link' is may or may not be clear. Most do not know of Mosaic's ability to walk dreams. But he drifts closer, not so much walking as just willing himself through the air, nearing to Blackagar, but pausing at the last moment to receive permission. Or not.

Blackagar is familiar enough with Mosaic to know what the link is, and he turns away from the puzzle that he was doing, lifting a hand and beckoning the spectre closer giving his consent to the establishment of the link. It will make it easier for him to communicate, as well, and so there is no hesitation in it.

Once Mosaic overlaps with Blackagar, there is a feeling like sleeping coming on. It isn't quite sleep— Blackagar remains aware of the world around him, and can waken at will and he knows he can— but it has the feel of it. Between one blink and the next he is within the Dream.

The Dream is the same table, the same chairs, he same room— but there is no roof, and this room is nestled within a glave of a rich, natural forest. The forest sounds and smells alive and fresh.

Mosaic now stands a few feet away, looking like he did before his terrigenesis. A tall, handsome black man whose features are refined and elegant. Strong, athletic. "I control the dream, and until you wake no sound you utter will touch anything but the dream. I have been sent to serve the Royal Family."

There is a moment where Black Bolt's gaze shifts to the roof that is not there, and to the forest beyond, as he acclimates for a moment to the shift to the Dream. And when he speaks, it is without the movement of his lips, for he doesn't actually speak out loud at all, but within the construct of the dream. His eyes, however, their brilliant blue, settle fully upon the man across from him and he rises from his seat. There is a dip of his head to Mosaic. "Welcome, then, to New York. There are few of us here now, but I am certain that Maximus will be interested to know that you are here, and Triton as well. What news from the Genetic Council?"

Mosaic lifts a hand, and where there was nothing in it a moment ago, now there is an apple. He bites into it and chews, thoughtful for a moment, "I don't hunger anymore, but eating is part of living, and I find myself wondering if I could be considered alive yet, if this apple…" He lifts it and grins, "…tastes like anything at all when I remember it in the dream. It is only like this when I can remember a fragment of what it is I was." He lets his hand drop and the apple simply vanishes, but he bows, "The Council maintains its policy of isolation, but since I can be neither contaminated nor contaminate, I was sent to assist where I can, the endeavors of you and your brother. They would know more. I will, of course, report back to them anything I learn, so it could be said I am a spy on you as much as a spy for you." But what does it mean that he admits this openly?

Blackagar watches the apple appear and disappear, gaze flickering over toward the piece of fruit when it materializes, and then back to the features of the man before him when it vanishes once more. Little registers in his expression as to whether he has an opinion on that or not. He does ask, however, "And does it? Taste anything like what you remember an apple to taste like?" His expression doesn't change much at the Council's stance. It's as he expected — no surprise there. "Of course you will," Black Bolt says, agreeing easily enough. He assumed as much. "Report as you will. They told us to establish ourselves here, and that's what we are doing. They told us to find allies, and we are doing that as well." He gestures to the room that is not the room that he is in and says, "This place.. is the start. We now have a place that we can spend some prolonged time in within the city. It is set up to accomodate us and act as a central base of operations and communication among our people. You are, of course, welcome." Not that they could stop him from entering, but courtesy is courtesy.

"That's the true question; is my memory reliable? As far as I can tell, what I experience in the dream is not dissimilar to what I experienced before my transformation." Mosaic bows slightly when Blackagar says to report what he will, acknowledging that. "Thank you for the welcome; I of course am perhaps the only one of our people who have no need of it. I can not be contaminated, and do not forsee possessing any of our own. Speaking of that, we must establish the recognition protocol."

Mosaic becomes a plump woman a moment ago, "If I approach you wearing a body, there are three situations we must account for. In one, I am not intending to be incogneto but wish to tell you who I am. In the second, I wish you to pretend as though I am the body I wear. In the third, it is important to you that I follow your lead."

Blackagar tips his head slightly to the side and then straightens it a bit, an acknwoledgment of a sort, "Memory is hazy, and we fill in the blanks, and so it is never entirely accurate, and always changing. The question, I suppose, is whether the apple tastes good. If it does, and you enjoy its taste, does it matter if the taste is exactly as your remembered it? Or exactly as another might taste it?"

However, the topic shift to that of protocol gains a more serious nod of his head. "Do you have a preferred method for this protocol?" He seems willing to accommodate if the spectre has one already established that works. No need to re-invent the wheel, after all.

"Memory is indistinct, yes, but one would like to imagine there is an objective reality, a truth that the dream can never get. When I ride a body, and taste the apple there, it never quite tastes the same— not even between bodies. It makes me wonder how much of our shared experience is true." Mosaic tone waxes philosophical, and then he smiles slightly, "I have never worked in a team, always alone, so this protocol would be developed between us and then shared with the others. My unique ability to seek out information without leaving a trace has led me in the past to solo missions. But, first; I will approach you and direct a comment as if I knew you while touching my head briefly. If I use my left hand with this gesture…" He makes a subtle gesture, "… it indicates my preference is to remain hidden. If it is used by my right right, I do not care. If you wish me to go along remaining hidden, you reply in whatever way you deem fit, but if you wish me to drop the display, address me as Mosaic. Will that suffice?"

"Our tolerance for pain may be different from one to the other, but a broken bone is no less true for the experience of it. Genetics can also dictate how something might taste. One might have a cold and lose all sense of taste. Does your genetic predisposition to how something tastes make your experiencing of it more or less true than mine? There is some basic truth that is shared. You eat the apple. I eat the apple. The apple is eaten in either case. We both taste it. How we taste it may not be the same, but there are parts of the experience that are the same." Black Bolt considers, talking it through as much to himself as to Mosaic.

He then returns his attention toward the protocols. "That seems simple enough. Left hand to remain hidden, right hand if not necessary, and I shall address you as Mosaic if I do not wish you to maintain the ruse." He repeats the protocol, just to acknowledge that he understands.

"Indeed, though if I indicate with my left, use Mosaic as a cancellation only in an emergency; there is a reason it is my desire to be covert at the time." Mosaic inclines his head, then considers. "I don't believe truth can be compared; what is true to you is simply true to you, as what is true to me. How can we compare truths? But consider red. What is red?" A square of red appears, "We point at this and both agree we are seeing red, but can we express what Redness is and why we have agreed?" He laughs and shakes his head, "Ah, nevermind. When you do not sleep and have only the company of your thoughts, they wander."

Blackagar inclines his head, having understood that to be the case. Then he listens, with interest, as Mosaic continues to wax philosophical on the topics of truth, experience, and perception. He seems interested in the man's perspective. There's a slight shake of his head and then he says, "When there are few with whom you might speak, and you spend a great deal of time in the company of your own thoughts, they also wander. And it is refreshing to be able to express thoughts in.. a less hampered form than a sign language only other Inhumans can understand. I think I will enjoy having your presence here, even if you are here to spy on us." There's a little bit of amusement in his expression there, and blue eyes sparkle, not seeming terribly serious, or concerned. He's doing what they asked. What are they going to do? Banish him?

"I thought you might appreciate the link; it is unfortunate I can do it with only one person at a time. If I could link more then one mind, it could be a very secure means of communication." Mosaic shakes his head slowly, expression mildly regretful, "Truth be told, since I do not myself dream, it requires the willing cooperation with another to… exist like this. In a semblance of living, of life. So I consider it a favor received." He smiles, "I shall remember that should there be any … situation where you would prefer my reports be somewhat less then complete."

"I do," Blackagar admits, with just the faintest bit of wist. He has been very isolated, and speaking is something that has been mostly limited to what few family are in New York. He smiles then, though, letting that slip away for a moment and instead says, "Well, then you are welcome to share what dreams that I might share. I'm afraid they might not be terribly interesting, but you are welcome to walk them and talk." He then dips his head a bit and says, "Only should there prove great need for some reason." Then he looks once more up and around at the lush forests that exist outside of the room in which they stand, considering them thoughtfully. When he speaks again, he looks back toward Mosaic. "We are currently making allies around some of those who are present in this city. We have connections with the Mutants, but we are trying to learn more about what other groups there may be that it might be advantageous to forge alliegances with."

Considering, Mosaic moves over to settle down on the chair by the table within the forest, and suddenly there's a feast that is spread out over the table. He reaches for a bunch of grapes, and pops one into his mouth, grinning, "Help yourself. May as well take advantage." But more seriously he nods slowly, "Do you know which groups these are? I could infiltrate one to study it and gain intelligence."

Blackagar retakes a seat at the table when Mosaic sits down, studying the feast as it appears. He doesn't seem to be averse to sharing dream-dinner with the spectre, and reaches for a bit of something from the table, taking a bite. It's a dream, and so his words continue aloud as he chews, not needing to actually speak. "Triton and Maximus are a little more familiar than I. Triton has some connection with those who live underground, the more monstrous. Maximus has a close connection with the Mutants, and there is one of them, a woman named Rogue, who has been a close ally. You may see her here, or another named Kaleb. But as for other groups, I am uncertain. I have been more focused on working with Maximus to establish this place — which is fairly new. I will have he and Triton get you up to speed with what we know."

"Is there any organizations we have been aware of that may need watching, not as potential allies, but as potential enemies?" inquires Mosaic, eating casually, not stuffing his face despite the fact that he gets to experience eating in his own body so rarely. "But yes, I planned on seeking Maximus out soon. Is Triton having difficulty, considering his obvious alteration?"

"There is one group of Mutants that I have been told about called the Brotherhood that is apparently a more extremist group, but I've not been made aware of any members in the city in particular to watch for," Black Bolt says as he plucks another bit of something from the food on the table, some bit of cheese or another. "Triton has difficulty on the surface, yes. He can't travel openly like Max and I can, but he has found quite a few friends below who don't seem to have any trouble with his appearance. His scouting, he has to do incognito."

"I'll have to look around the city." Mosaic inclines his head slightly, then rises, "Unless there is anything else, I should go. I am familiar enough with outside cities but need some perspectives on this city in particular." Though he is not in a rush to leave.

"No, there is nothing else for now. Thank you for coming by, and for the conversation," Blackagar says, settling back in his seat and waiting for the dream to end, and for his senses to shift back to the waking. "I am sure that we will speak again soon."

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