...an approximate truth about the ship.

Also, to some extent, about the kind of music that is being played on the shuttle at the moment. Ruhe has some sense in not going all out with it, so his fiddling is more melodic, like an intro to a larger composition that will wash you over with instrumental gunshots and explosions once the inevitable moment of ascension comes at some point. The buildup is intricate, asynchronously twining several harmonics, an insidious pattern in reclining and receding chaos.

The power morin khuur he is holding is a work of art in itself, kami lighting up the eyes and the mane in the horsehead with vivid neon lights fusing fluidly into the music the instrument is enticed to spread by frenetic bow sweeps.

Something dark and moody shuffled its way to a seat in the shuttle. A man in a military uniform, marking him as a chuui, the black great coat flowing as his luggage rolled behind. Without much ceremony the white haired man stowed it in a compartment and all but fell into a seat, sinking low into it's embrace.

His eyea closed, possibly enjoying the music, or maybe having too much on the mind to notice.

If music reacted to the man's coming, it was subtle. The man offered no word or gesture of welcome or acknowledgement, so he probably could get away with it by status fiat... or he just didn't want to intrude upon the performance. So the performance continued its (fore)shadowy allure.

After a few moments a beep loud enough to be annoying sounded from within the officer's coat and his brow creased. Reaching inside he tapped his thumb on his communicator to silence the alarm and sat up, reaching into yet another pocket to take out a small packet. Tearing the top, he withdrew some documents and started going over them, eyes drooping a little.



Visible rolling of the eyes. There was more, but he put it away rather than reading the rest and laid back again.

Another few measures of the Moto's fiddle and the Spider smiled slightly, perhaps he was enjoying the show now, or maybe he was thinking of something else. Maybe one was helping the other.

It is not his usual target effect, to cause introspective melancholy, but Ruhe is convinced that if he played to the full now, some other shuttle-goers might mind. After all, his music is not known for its mass consumption. Still, he stirs the bow toward more disquieting, sharper amplitudes of sound, harbingers of tempest that may be brewing just beyond horizon.

What did this remind Shokomaru of? Eyes closed he thought about it. That hellscape world was windy, distance wasn't easily seen even with a scope. Sand got in everything, chips of bone were scattered in the torrent. Then that frenzied chant of the natives before they came running for death by auto-fire from the lumins mounted on the 5th's APCs.

He felt the image in his head wasn't quite getting there, or maybe the music wasn't.

He opened his eyes and sat up a bit.

"Samurai-sama", he said, looking right at the Moto, despite any others who might be there. "Proceed." he said, as if him giving permission were enough for the Unicorn to go wild. Shokomaru had faith it'd be worth it, and wouldn't go on for more than a few minutes.

From a seat behind the Spider, Akodo Akihiko's face leaned into the aisle, face quizzical. Does the musician work for him?

Akihiko tried to lean to better observe the musician, believing he saw Unicorn colors. Playing it safe, he called out pleasantly, "Yes, do please continue your music, samurai-sama." Akihiko smiled, in case anyone turned toward the source of his voice.

Suddenly, the sound spiked, a high hum, to gradually lose pitch with a wild upswing at the resolving, like a wing of bombers closing in on target... and then a powerful consecution of explosive sounds erupted from the morin khuur's amplifier, followed by rhythmic staccatos of gunfire, an upward twist at every third one, like a scream, that made one think of regular batches of casualties. Piercing high sounds intervening in the cannonades reminded of sirens.

The man was indeed a Unicorn, now grinning madly, apparently enjoying it immensely despite the grim brutality of his performance. It was obvious that he had taken the Spider's words as authorisation rather than command, an invitation to unleash what was already brewing inside him. He managed a nod to the Akodo between nods that were in sync with the rhythm in his head.

Shokomaru nodded to the Lion sitting behind him.

When it came to an end, the Spider's face split into a grin.

"Well done", he applauded a little, not really caring what anyone thought of the racket. "Just what I needed."

He looked back at the Lion.

"That's something, eh? Seems you appreciate it, and I can respect a fellow many of culture. Daigotsu Shokomaru, 5th company commander, 9th Obsidian Legion." He leaned his head by way of bowing, respect was given.

He waved the Unicorn over to them.

Akihiko applauded politely, not entirely site what he'd just witnessed, but fascinated by how different but still skillful the music had been.

The Lion pilot returned the nod -- exaggerated, a bit, to give more the quality of a bow while still sitting in the uncomfortable shuttle seats.

"Akodo Akihiko, Gunso of 4th Flight, 'Long Claws' Fighter Squadron. Good to meet you, Daigotsu-sama." The Lion gave another small nod of respect for the other man's rank. There was even a hint of a smile as he joked, "We are far removed from our element here."

"Guess I got on a military drop ship instead on a miai ferry." The Unicorn snickered under his moustache after he finished the musical gory battle impression with a count-the-bodies, grieve-the-fallen, fade-to-silence heart-wrenching denouement. "At least the audience is right, eh? Name's Moto Ruhe, no distinctions." He twirled the morin khuur. "My fiddle is my claim to power, eheh."

"Well met, Akodo-gunso, Moto-san", he said, there was a slight effect in his voice and the way he said well met, as if he had an old accent but it vanishes as he continued. "What brings you fine gentlemen to Asakaze, I hope not the mushrooms."

"Don't have my whole life to get hitched." Ruhe's voice was deep and musical, but also peppered by thick accent he didn't try to hide. "But if those shrooms are any good, it might be a good experience."

Shokomaru laughed. "You seem like the type to live fully, but sure your bride will appreciate that, Moto-san."

"What about you, Akodo-gunso? Looking for a proper match, or do you have a dream woman in mind?"

The Lion's face crinkles with a touch of confusion at the discussion of mushrooms, but he laughs pleasantly at the question about a miai match.

"It's nice that someone cares what I think," Akihiko chuckles. "But honestly, I've not given it too much thought. I don't usually have a lot of time with personal thoughts, so this trip has been... quite a change."

Shokomaru sat up straight and gave the Lion a serious look. "Marriage being personal is a stretch, don't you think?" He sighed, putting his communicator and documents back into his coat.

"Though i suppose it leaves a dream open, even if it won't happen."

"Well, at least some things are personal: how well you do your duty, how much compassion and sincerity you show... My personal example of Bushido isn't the same as everyone's." Akihiko smiles, knowing Bushido probably won't impress the Spider, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. "Oh, or the way you play Fantasy Fight. That's personal too," the Lion says confidently.

"Can't say I do", the Spider admitted. "Not against it, but I leave it as something my men do that they don't have to let me win at."

"You both like games?"

"I like trying things, but there are only so many a man can be passionate about. Can't say games like that are any near the top of the list. But I wouldn't mind, in good company, with some happy drink in the cup." The Moto smirked.

Akihiko looks perplexed at the idea of letting someone win at a game, but doesn't get any words out before the Unicorn's words rescue him from the confusion.

"Ah, hai, good company and a good drink. The activity isn't so important." Akihiko agreed emphatically. Then came a small jolt in the shuttle's journey. The Lion grunted gently. "This trip needs more good drink."