Summary:Dylan runs into Helena in the cafeteria. They eat. And talk. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Cafeteria meals are not the home-cooked goodness of Wayne manor, but they do have the advantage of being, well…here. Where Helena has access to everything (that cadets have access to), doesn't have to commute, and can always hope to overhear something interesting. So today between classes she's seated at a round table in the mess hall, a book open to one side of herself, a notebook to the other, and a plate with a pile of potato chips in the middle. The sandwich that goes with those chips is in her hand, held absently as she chews and looks between notebook and book.
"I don't remember. Did you ever give your name when you were delivering messages?" Dylan says, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down. "I remember the face but not a name." His tray has a cheeseburger and fries as well as a slice of pie. Leaning over slightly, he looks for the book's title at the top of a page.
Helena looks up from her book with a chipmunk-cheeked smile, sticking her finger between the pages and flipping it closed to show the cover while she finishes chewing. It less of a book and more of a bound set of pages made in-house. Which makes sense, because it's from the intro to magic courses intended to identify students with potential for that sort of work.
"Helena," she answers once she's done chewing, flipping the book back open. "Cadet Wayne." Markedly not putting first and last name immediately together. Not being obvious about who she is is already a habit. "And you are Agent Grey, on loan from MI-13, from…Wales, is it? With a phone of many items, including bread pudding." Her smile flashes again as she moves things around to make sure there's room for another tray. "Settling in all right?"
Dylan tilts his head forward, acknowledging that she got it all right and grins. "Very good. They won't need to train you in memory enhancement techniques. "Wales, yes. Powis to be precise, which is in the northern part. Beautiful country there if you ever desire to holiday in Wales. Quite well, thank you. It's a very nice city."
Helena's smile quirks at the description, accompanied by a slight arch of her brow. "That's a polite way to put it," she chuckles, finally setting down what's left of her sandwich and brushing off her hand. "It's a very American city, or so I've been told. But it's home. More or less. Glad you're settling in all right though. Where do they put up agents visiting from other agencies, out of curiosity?" she asks. "Some sort of rental safe houses, or do you get to enjoy the spacious living quarters here?"
"Oh, I wasn't being polite. I'm growing rather fond of Manhattan." Dylan assures Helena. "It's not too unlike London in spots but many large cities are alike in spots. And your Broadway is very similar to our West End." At the question, he smiles and shakes his head. "Oh, I've rented a flat for myself. As long as I'm here, I thought I'd be comfortable and that's not something one expects in an intelligence agency's quarters." Gesturing to the book, he asks "Are you trying to develop magical talent?"
"No," Helena laughs, shaking her head. "Definitely not. But it's a required course, in case an agent ever needs to work with WAND on a mission, so. Kind of like nuclear safety. Here's how the magic bomb works and how you can make sure you don't end up with magic radiation poisoning. Also, don't anger the wizard, but I feel like that last part should already be common sense."
She marks her page, closing the book and the notebook to make more space and center her attention better. "It's a cool class though. Finding out how things work is sort of- I'm more of a tinkerer myself really, but the magic parts are interesting the way it plays with physics and philosophy."
There's a pause, then she tilts her head. "Is it really something you can learn? I always felt like it was the sort of thing that required at least some inborn talent."
"It is. Though many people don't know they have the talent until they try." Dylan answers. "Assuming they're trying correctly; that usually requires a mentor of sorts. Every first born in my family has had it and some of the others as well. But that's just my family; each can be different. Not to mention what the talent is can be different. Not everyone can do everything."
"That's fair," Helena muses. "Not like there's a youtube video for touching the force." Her smile slips crooked. "Now, you tell me I can basically learn to be a jedi and we might have some plans to readjust. Pretty sure I'm magic-free, though. We've got some family friends on that side of things and I'm pretty sure they would have said something before now if I could."
She seems good-natured enough about it, picking up a potato chip. "But still, all knowledge is worth having, right?"
"I'm not picking anything up from you." Dylan confirms. "Though not everyone radiates a magical aura when they aren't using their magic. You're correct though; it's useful knowledge. As the button reads 'No matter how powerful the wizard, a knife in the back will seriously cramp his style'."
"Sure, if you can get close enough for it. There's a lot of stuff in the world that can be countered if you plan well enough or have the resources for it, but magic's definitely a lot more complicated," Helena admits. "Which of course is why there are professionals like yourself," she grins. "Still. It's one of the things I haven't really had a chance to study before coming here, which makes it way more interesting than the other things."
"No more complicated than most sciences and much less complicated than quantum physics." Dylan counters. "There are rules that must be followed. Sometimes they aren't obvious and sometimes they're different for different people. There's also an aspect of art to it. But if you look at it as a whole, it makes perfect sense. So what did you do before you decided to become a spy?"
"High school," Helena answers with a laugh, unrepentant. "I mean. A nice private school with some good advanced science programs, but yeah. I looked at the options for college and…honestly, the idea of sitting in a bunch of lectures going over the basics of everything just didn't sing to me. So I talked to some people I knew who'd gone more this route, thought about what I wanted to get out of things, and decided that this was the way to go. I can learn things here there's no way I could learn anywhere else. Case in point," she adds, gesturing to the bound pages.
Dylan nods his agreement. "Indeed. You'll undoubtedly get an education available in very few places, to very few people. And all in pursuit of a very worth goal. Few people can say they've chosen to serve as a guardian to world peace." Pause. "Or are allowed to, for that matter."
"Yeeeaaah, allowed is a bit of a loose term," Helena admits, sheepish. "My parents weren't exactly thrilled. But I get the feeling they think I'm going to wash out on my own so there wasn't much sense in fighting over it. That, or they're pulling some sort of reverse psychology hoping I'll decide it's not as exciting as I thought it was."
She shrugs, eating another chip. "Either way, I'm here for now. What about you? Was this something you learned before you joined MI-13? Or is there like…" She pauses, looking from side to side. "Is there a real Hogwarts?"
Dylan laughs at the question. "No, there's no Hogwarts. There are too many magical traditions and too many distrustful magicians for there to ever be something that organized. At most, you might find some small classes taught for those of the same trdition." Pausing to eat a couple fries, he continues. "I was taught by my grandfather. He wanted me to get a head start on learning what I'd need to know when I succeeded him so he concentrated on those things I wouldn't get once I took over the sword."
"Damn," Helena sighs, wistful. "That would have been cool. Oh well. Not everything can be cool. Swords sound cool though." She perks up at that mention, giving him another quick, intent once over as if she might recognize something that could magically turn into a sword. Or summon one. "There's a sword?"
Dylan reaches down to his hip and his fingers curl around something. Lifting his arm, he draws a sword which becomes visible along with its sheath once it's about halfway out. "The Grey Blade of Powys." he explains, giving Helena a moment to look it over before he sheaths it again. "The sword of my distant ancestor, Rhys ap Llywelyn, King of Powys who fought alongside Arthur."
Helena's brows rise as the sword starts to appear, a grin spreading. "Now that is cool," she approves. "Also, I feel like it should be on the record that I did not jump directly to Excalibur. So one point for Wayne House." Helena's the only one who's keeping track of these points, obviously.
"How'd you get hooked up with SHIELD, then? Something particular they brought you over for? Specialist mission?"
Laughing again, Dylan grins. "Excalibur? I wish. I'm not worthy to wield it though. No one is but Arthur so don't expect to see it any time soon. Only when he returns will it appear again." He takes a moment to consider the question. "From my understanding, it was my superiors' idea. The world is becoming small. It used to be that forces that threatened Britain only threatened Britain. Those that threatened America, only threatened America. Or France or Russia, etc. Now? Danger doesn't stay in neat, tidy areas. And so it's preferable to deal with dangerous situations before they spread to Britain. Better to muss the grass on someone else's lawn."
Helena laughs in turn, shaking her head. "Well, that sounds about right," she agrees. "Besides, from what I've picked up about magic, it's the sort of thing that doesn't stay local very well. Ley lines, right?" she asks, flipping the book open to a map marked with them. "Like a circulatory system for magic. You get an infection in one spot, it's not like it stays there. Plus you magic types have a tendency to have ways to travel a lot quicker an easier than we mere mortals."
"Well, you generally don't get magical infections to use the analogy. If such a thing were to occur, I'd put money down it was deliberate. But it is vaguely possible." Dylan agrees. "But I'm well equipped to deal with physical threats as well so they decided to broaden my horizons. And you?" he asks. "What are you planning on specializing in? There's intelligence, cryptography, field agent? What do you see yourself doing?"
"I'm not sure yet," Helena answers, eating another chip. "On the one hand, field agent is pretty exciting. And I think I can be good at it. But I'm also really interested in the science, especially the engineering of new devices, but I'm interested in biomedical devices as well, and…" She trails off, letting out a heavy breath. "Well, I've heard there are at least a few agents who multi-class, so to speak. It's kind of hard for me to go true undercover, but maybe being me can help."
"I believe Agent Simmons 'multi-classes' as you put it." Dylan suggests. "Of course, being a cyborg probably helps. Still, unless you have a passion for science or engineering, I'd think field agent would be most fun and interesting. Visit exotic places. Meet new people. Kill them." he paraphrases with a grin then asks "Being you can help?"
"Yeah. Yeah, the cyborg thing is high on the list of things that require willpower not to dig into," Helena admits, rueful. "I'd really like to know how all that works. And how it it happened. And…just…everything? But you know, probably not best to ask super personal questions of the person with the most information about things I'd like to eventually learn," she sighs. "Anyhow."
She waves her hand, coloring slightly at the last. "Yeah," she clears her throat. "Helena Wayne. Like…Wayne Enterprises. Bruce Wayne's my dad." She pauses then, looking around herself as if saying the name three times will have summoned Stark droids or something like that.
Dylan just looks blank and says "Talieisin?" From somewhere, his pocket in fact, a voice with a Welsh accent but sounding artificial says "Bruce Wayne. Owner and chairman of Wayne Enterprises, a conglomerate owning multiple corporations in such diverse fields as food production, heavy industry, and military weaponry to name a few. Extremely wealthy. Daughter: Helena Wayne." Silence. "Oh, okay. I don't pay much attention to other country's millionaires." Dylan explains. "Nor much in my own either. My father deals with that kind of thing."
Helena doesn't look upset. If anything, she looks relieved. And interested in the pocket voice, leaning over to see if there's anything she can see there. "Taliesin," she repeats, grin flashing. "The Welsh name for Merlin, right? And you and your totally not Excalibur magic sword. I see what you did there. Anyhow, just makes it hard to disappear all the way, is all. But it's a different kind of disappearing," she shrugs.
Dylan shakes his head. "No. They were different people though they were contemporaries. Taliesin was a bard. Most beautiful voice you ever heard. Merlin was a wizard and a voice like a crow. Tal is the electricity elemental I asked to take over my phone when I got rid of Siri. I know what you mean about anonymity though what with my father being an Earl."
Helena grimaces sympathetically. "Yeah, that'll do it," she agrees. "People get weird about titles, especially in the states. We quit the monarchy so we could rebrand it, apparently." She props her chin up on one hand, brows rising slightly at the other information. "Well that's cool. I thought they were different depictions of the same person. Now I've learned a thing today." And it seems like she's thinking about other things, too. "Electricity elemental. So is that something that charges your phone while it lives there, or does it feed off of the charge in your phone?"
"More the latter." Dylan answers. "I enchanted it to draw power from ley lines and use them for my voice and data signals. They also keep the battery charged just in case I ever run into a magically dead zone. But then I decided I wanted everything able to be voice activated and not only is Siri annoying but she wasn't up to handling the magical functions I added to the phone. So I got Tal. In return, he draws as much power from the battery as he can handle. He's getting fat in fact." The phone chuckles.
Helena's eyes flicker up and down and side to side as if she's looking at a board full of equations as she thinks it through, finally nodding. "That's definitely one way to do an AI," she says, amused. "You don't really have to build the intelligence, just the interface. Though…I'm guessing that took a little bit of tweaking?" she asks, looking between Dylan and his pocket. "I feel like magical spirits probably have a tech learning curve."
"Electricity ones have an advantage. And I made sure to summon one near a power plant and not just hang out in a lightning storm." Dylan explains with a small shrug. "You have to stay with the times, you know? City spirits are much more savvy about tech than the nature spirits even if they're the same element." Sitting back, he considers Helena. "So the Waynes are American nobility? And are you the heir to the throne?"
"Words literally used within the last week," Helena rolls her eyes at the question. "Dad dragged me along to a meeting. I had a moment of relief that arranged marriages are no longer a thing." She reaches for her sandwich again, taking a healthy bite in a very non-royal noble way. "I'm…not complaining," she adds around a mouthful of sandwich, slightly awkward. "The good parts definitely outweigh the bad and I'm grateful for everything I've had. Just. I also want a chance to be me. On my own. Without any of those advantages. Which…" she gestures around herself. "Brought me here."
Dylan cocks his head to the side slightly. "Strange." he muses. "Ever since I can remember, I was being groomed for this. And I always thought it was the coolest thing ever and couldn't wait to jump into it. I never really considered what it would be like if I had been able to choose something else. I still think it's the coolest thing ever. Though if I had only been groomed as my father's heir… snore. I follow though. Do what you love to do. If that's this, don't let anyone get you to stop."
"I just don't want to spend my whole life in a board room counting stupid amounts of money to decide if it's a stupidly big enough increase or if we've lost enough to have slightly less, and then worrying that hey, well, actually, all of those super boring choices are people's entire lives, because if you screw up and one factory closes, those are the people who are going to feel it and…" Helena takes a deep breath, then a bite of her sandwich, chewing to distract herself from that line of thought.
"Anyhow. I'm really not doing the poor little rich girl thing, promise. My life's great. And now that I get to do this, even more great. Even if I can't do magic," she adds with a flash of a grin. "Life's tough like that."
"I didn't think you were." Dylan assures Helena. "I understand completely where you're coming from. I avoided that myself though I am my father's heir. He can't say I'm wasting my time or skirting my duties though so I don't get that kind of grief. I'm sure your father will feel the same way once he becomes accustomed to the idea of this little girl becoming an international spy out to save the world."
Helena chuckles, smile easy. "Yeah, maybe. Eventually. Anyhow. So you've got a magic sword, and an electricity elemental instead of Siri, which is a good call. FBI is much less likely to be listening in on that, too."
Dylan frowns and runs a hand over his hair. "You know, that's a point. I should probably get some cybersecurity for my phone. It is, regardless of what powers it, still connected to the internet. It's as protected as any top of the line phone is which is to say not very. I wonder how that'll interact with my enchantments."
"Hold on, you're telling me the electricity elemental doesn't also run the security?" Helena quirks a brow, half serious and half joking. "I feel like you've missed out on an opportunity here. I mean, you could at least get it to double as a taser in case of emergency. Is that a thing that mages need? Is it mages?" she asks. "Or is it wizards? Or is it a sort of…depends on the person thing?"
"I didn't really worry about phone security." Dylan explains. "It's not like I use it to keep state secrets. I can probably make it to it's invisible to anyone searching for its signal. Which would probably be a good idea since someone named Oracle seemed to have no problem in sending me a message on it. And yes, depends on the person. And specialty. You'd call me an artificer, not a sorcerer. Mage is generic enough to apply to most."
Note to file: Update Oracle on protocols for dealing with electricity elementals. "Artificer," Helena echoes, nodding slowly. "Meaning…" She flips through the book, looking for a definition. "You specialize in enchantments on objects, rather than broad-scale magic not attached to a thing?" she squints up, not yet finding the entry.
Dylan snap points at Helena. "Bingo. Artificers create artifacts. I don't cast spells like you'd expect from a wizard. When you classify mages, you'd do so by how they make magic, what type of magic they specialize in, or what the source of their power is. And even then, it's not exact. Different countries and languages would have different definitions. But if you make note of what a mage calls himself, it'll tell you something about him and that could be important down the road."
Helena nods to herself, opening her notebook long enough to take a note to that effect. "So you're a tinkerer too," she looks up with a flash of a smile. "Just with magic, more than science. Or maybe some of both," she adds. "The scientific method seems to be pretty consistent regardless of what you're using it for."
"Exactly. Science is a process that applies to most anything." Dylan agrees. "You'll find mages who'll insist it has nothing to do with science but it's what they're doing. Using the same color of chalk to produce similar effects or the same incense or gesture or phrase then modifying it to get a different result…" He shrugs. "Call it what you want, it's all the same."
"Just because the physics are different doesn't mean they don't have rules," Helena agrees with a nod. "Which is why they can write us these lovely books about what we should all know about it," she grins. "So what's your favorite part of working with the agency?" she asks, closing the notebook again to go back to her sandwich.
"Protecting my land." Dylan says immediately. "I could do it on my own but working with MI-13 gives me greater resources and a better chance of success. Being seconded to SHIELD and WAND means I can expand my reach to the world and keep things from ever reaching my home."
Helena grins. "I feel like that's the most blue-blood answer you could give," she teases. "But I also feel like that's something the world needs more of. The idea that people have a responsibility to protect others. You said being a field agent was a lot of fun. Is that what you prefer to do on a mission? A magic sword definitely seems like something that lends itself to being in the field rather than mission control."
"My father is an Earl. My ancestor was a King." Dylan points out. "It's hard to escape that." Especially with one of them in your head. "I'll also point out that your concern about the workers in your factories is very similar. And I am definitely not a mission control kind of guy. I'm a knight. Not to be confused with having been knighted. "
"So you're saying you're good with that thing?" Helena asks, arching a brow with a grin. Swords aren't exactly her specialty, but like most things, she knows how to use them. And she's always willing to learn something new from someone who's an expert in it.
"As good as a 6th century Welsh king who fought alongside Arthur." Dylan asserts with a grin. Then adds "Maybe a little better. Techniques have advanced a bit since then, especially if you steal from other traditions."
Helena tilts her head slightly, piecing that statement together. "Huh. So is it a genetic memory, or does it live in the sword?" she asks, already assuming there's a connection. "And, just because I'm curious," she grins, "Does it actually talk back? Because I feel like a 6th century Welsh king probably has some great social commentary to get you through a boring party."
Dylan's brows rise. "Good guess. It's the sword. And no, he doesn't talk back. Fortunately. His memories are more than enough. And you'd be surprised how many of his memories are just as fitting and pertinent today, especially at boring parties."
"Somehow, that's disappointing," Helena muses. "That parties in the 6th century were also boring," she clarifies. "I mean. The not talking part is a little disappointing on a purely comedic level, but that's probably too many Monty Python viewings talking. Not surprising though, I guess. Some things never change, after all."
"Politics are politics." Dylan points out with a shrug. "You can't run around killing people all the time while having a relatively successful kingdom. Constant warfare drained your resources so it's in your best interest to have boring parties where you hammer out peace treaties and arrange marriages. Otherwise all you do is bicker and argue about who killed who."
"I feel like I've been lied to by popular media," Helena sighs dramatically. "On a more practical note though, you could probably answer some big questions for historians. So could various other more or less immortal people," she muses. "Feels kind of unfair to them. Though I guess most of them never know any better so…at least they don't feel useless. And if they found out, they'd probably just be more excited than anything else."
"Now that's an idea. I could write a history text." Dylan muses. "Maybe if I ever want to take a break from the fun stuff. On the other hand, they probably wouldn't believe it since most of them are still arguing about whether Arthur was real or not or what century he lived in. It's not knowing what happened that's hard, it's getting them to believe you."
"True enough," Helena agrees. "But if I've learned anything so far, it's that most stories are true. Maybe not the way you thought, maybe not all of it, but if you operate on the assumption that things are actually true, you'll be right more often than not. Or at least you'll get closer to finding the real truth by looking into it," she adds.
"You don't need to convince me of that. Just the historians." Dylan says. "In any case, I'm not ready to sit down and write a history text. That's a lot of work and a lot of time. I'm kind of busy with other stuff and it's not like I need the money. You know you could write a history of the Wayne dynasty and set the record straight. I'm assuming there's a lot of bullshit about you all."
"Less than you'd think." Helena finishes off her sandwich, going back to the chips. "We've always been pretty private people, so there's not really a lot floating around out there. And because we're pretty private people, we're not really much for addressing any rumors there might be anyhow," she grins. "Might as well let people come up with their own stories. It's more fun that way."
"Point." Standing, Dylan picks up his tray. "A pleasure talking to you Cadet Wayne. I'll stop distracting you now and let you get back to your studies. I wouldn't want to be responsible for your failing the field test, whatever that might be."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," Helena grins, though she flips open her book and notebook once more. "Pretty sure I got more out of this conversation than I would have out of the book anyhow." She winks, smile easy. "Thanks, Agent Grey. I'll have to see that sword work another time."