Obsidian Command

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Lost Things

Posted on 25 Mar 2021 @ 8:55pm by Sylvie Hardt - Surrat Gallery & Aiden Dhow
Edited on on 25 Mar 2021 @ 9:20pm

Mission: M2 - Sanctuary
Location: The Lacuna Gallery
Timeline: MD02 1400 (Following "Drifting in Public")
741 words - 1.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The interior of the shop was not quite what the exterior had proposed. Or, rather, not yet. The lighting was dim, illuminating bare walls that were in the process of being prepped for displays, as well as paint cloths strewn about from where the few hanging works had apparently been previously stored. Storage crates filled much of the space, and was almost enough to send Aiden back the way he came when he heard the sound of voices coming from the back of the shop. Running on curiosity, he picked his way among the clutter to follow the sound.

"a00784 dash 776. This one is not here," said a half-cardasi woman with an accent that seemed to over enunciate her words with pretension.

"If it's on the list, it's been delivered."

"Let's go through them again, shall we?"

The shipping agent was exasperated, but he tried to force a smile any way. The client had paid quite a song on insurance for her shipment and he didn't want the headache of filed claims for missing or damaged valuables. Besides, if this place actually got any good trade in art going, he could make a regular fist full of latinum by keeping it in his route. "Yes, lets." He agreed.

The form of someone in the as yet unprepared gallery space startled the woman out of the corner of her eye. She turned to face him, tucking the oversized padd under one arm while realizing the doors must have been left unlocked when they had moved in the crates. "Can I help you?" She asked, taking in the appearance of what seemed to her a lost, scrawny, young man.

Glancing up, Aiden nearly choked as he recognized the woman standing before him. “I ... ah ...” just as he realized he *knew* her, it was clear she didn’t recognize him. Something in the back of his mind cautioned that - perhaps - this might be a good thing. “I’m sorry, ah ... the door was unlocked and I’d thought ... I should go.”

"Go?" Sylvie squinted a little and thought. She might have shooed him away and be glad of it, except for a moment she felt something of the impression of her Grandfather Surrat on her heart. It was a lost thing. Grandfather did so love lost things. "Should you go... Well that depends."

“Depends?” Aiden blinked, confused. She didn’t seem upset, or ready to call for security or anything. Shifting the bag over his shoulder, he took the bait. “Depends on what?”

"On the path you're traveling. Is it a maze or a labyrinth?"

He remembered this; while it had been rare when he was around ... Ms. Hardt had always been guarded in his presence ... whenever she managed to forget about him, he caught brief glimpses of another personality. Especially with people she seemed to like. “I’m not sure ...it’s kinda more of a wasteland.”

"A wasteland," she repeated. it was an image that recalled to her the story of the first Surrats settling her homeworld. "A wasteland is unbounded. Completely unlimited potential. Infinite freedom, ready to be envisioned upon. If one can survive it."

Aiden grimaced. “Maybe, but it’s also pretty unsettling. Especially if you’ve never lived in it before.” His mouth quirked slightly before adding, “My name is Aiden, by the way. Aiden Dhow.” He glanced around the space with all its clutter. “I could help here. I don’t know much about art, but I could at least help with getting things in order, if you tell me where you want it all.”

"Day labor?" She considered. What would her father say if he found she was already hiring people walking in off the streets again? She pursed her lips with the quirky thought. "I suppose if you can make yourself useful, I could pay a fair wage. My name is Sylvie Hardt. Have you ever handled fine art before, Mr. Dhow?"

“No, ma’am, but I gather it’s a lot more intricate than shifting regular cargo around.” He set the bag down, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder to work out the pinched muscles. That’s what he got for packing all his worldly possessions in one tote. “But if you tell me how you want it done, I’ll do my best to follow instructions.”

"Let's begin with locating the art. Tell me if you spy a crate marked a00784 dash 776....."


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