Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

[Torsiedelle]

"Weeelll....maybe you could try a one-piece, like me and Yuna, or I might have a bikini, like I said.", Torii told Kale. To Lilian and the twins, she nodded. "Okay, I'm ready, too. Actually...wait a moment, I gotta find a swimsuit."

She peeked back into the other room and crawled under the bed again to rummage around the box where she had found her swimsuit. Sure enough, she felt the same fabric again, but just barely. So, she though, this box was just for their beach stuff. Made sense, since they packed their other old stuff in here. She wondered what she could find in it...

She dragged the box all the way out and looked at it. There was a pink top, but no bottom, a dark blue bottom, but no top, some old goggles, a snorkel..."There it is!", She thought to herself, pulling out the black bikini, then a one-piece from under the goggles and other items. Seeing as how she liked seeing underwater, she grabbed a few pairs of goggles as well, carrying them all easily, and lightly kicked the box aside. She loved it when things went her way.

"Okay, here ya go.", She handed Kale the two suits. "We can bring the other one with us, just in case. I actually need to get rid of some of these. I got too many, since I was always losing them."

[The Carlisle]

Kale took the two swimsuits in hand. She held one each in her hands, looking at them. "Thanks Torii. I'll put one on now," she said. Kale then set to the task of putting the damn thing on. She decided to go with the bikini, seeing as it was the least covering. She figured it would be the most comfortable. The bottom was easy enough to put on. The top though was a tag challenging. She got it fitted, it was just that she couldn't wrap her arms around to tie the knot. In fact, she couldn't tie a good knot to save her life. The damn thing kept falling loose. Kale frowned, a look of embarrassment on her face. She turned her back to Torii. "Hey, can you help me with this?" she said sweetly and embarrassed.

[Torsiedelle]

Torii didn't think anything about Kale's inability to tie the back of her top. She couldn't either, which was one of the reasons why she disliked them.

"Sure, no problem.", She said. She took the strings and pulled them back just right enough, but not too tight, and tied them back for Kale. "It'll be easy to take off if you want, but it won't fall off for now reason. There ya go.", She said, stepping back. "See? It looks nice, and you won't make anyone blush too hard. Besides, we have a boy here, ya know.", She pointed to Drova.

[The BranRiech]

"Indifferent." Drova commented in a momotone voice, rolling his eyes at Torii's teasing. He of course, being a boy, occasionally snuck a glance or two at the girls, but otherwose had learned to control himself by his age. It simply wasn't proper, but really, no one was watching him, no one telling his parents how he was doing or anything.

"The pool is waiting." He smiled slightly.

[Torsiedelle]

"That it is!", Torii agreed with Drova. She slipped past Kale and Lilian and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Let's go then! Did you say the pool is warmed? The warm water will feel crazy in the rain."

She slipped away again and opened the door for everyone, stepping out. "Hey, is my sister coming?"

Katya kicked her feet out and sighed. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Want me to bring some music?"

"Sure.", Torii replied, waving for everyone.

[The Carlisle]

Kale moved around a bit with the bikini on. It was... different. Not uncomfortable, just something she wasn't used to. The bikini fit well enough on her. She could put up with it. "Thanks Torii!" she said, "I don't think I'll be making anyone blush. If they won't blush at me in my wrap, they won't blush at me in a bikini." With the bikini on, Kale grabbed her leaven dress and the towel she used and hung both over her shoulders. She was hopping a bit in anticipation.

[Rocopurr]

"Off we go!", Lilian hopped out of the apartment. Her tail stuck awkwardly out of her bottoms, moving them up and down as it wagged. She turned around to look back at her friends and jogged in place. "Anyone want to have a race to the pool?", her grin looked more mischievous than usual. Lilian was a fast runner. Even if she wasn't competitive and cared more about having fun than winning or losing, there was nothing wrong with some friendly competition.

[The BranRiech]

"I've got you on that race, Lillian." Drova grinned as he stepped out of the apartment with Yuna beside him. She waited behind though to talk to Torii and Kale. Drova smiled, with no clothes really to weigh him down, he could really fly. His hollow bones made him light, and holding his wings behind him helped with aerodynamics.

"Let's do this." He nodded.

[Torsiedelle]

Torii was a good runner, but it wasn't something she ever enjoyed doing. She'd rather opt out of the race and stay with Yuna and Kale.

"Your brother and Lilian like each other. I don't think he's ever been so social with me. What do you think?"

She had carried the goggles in her hand, and put on a big pair with a nose cover, since she hated getting water in her nose. She enjoyed the smell of plastic from swimming supplies like that, and she slipped them up so they sat on her forehead. "Want a pair?", She asked the other two girl. "I like to see underwater and stuff. I remember that the Nikanor used to have these magic potion things for mermaids, and they were so cool!"

[Mincaldenteans]

Ru'Hoff grinned at the lovers. He'd enjoyed feeding off the emotions in the dining hall and was now content to drift along in Mezran's wake.

The prospect of booty captured Ha'nS' attention. "This is agreeable," his sharp teeth flashed between smiling lips. "I only hope you two haven't caused any... hiccups. Let's go before anything else crops up."

“Bah,” Mezran responded with a dismissive gesture at the thought of timeline contamination, “Even if we did, we are hardly a page in the history books. Those tehqeq’pu are everywhere and it would be another century or two until the vermin is completely eradicated. And as for the fool,” he paused for a moment, giving though to the consequences of the fight and his actions against the old fool. In the end Mezran gave shrug and made an unpleasant face for a moment, “Maybe the petaQ will think twice to wax on false stories with that oily tongue of his. His punishment will by the guild and his own house will be enough. At least Ru’Hoff stayed my hand,” he grunted in admission; he would have slain the coward. Although living in shame was still a fate worse than death for a Klingon, Mezran would just have to take comfort in that knowledge.

Making their way out of Varth was uneventful. Already the streets were busy as usual, the city’s guards were lined on the walls, always at watch, and the citizens of the fair city were setting up shop while the children were dragged to whatever class they had to attend before noon. The air was crisp and light, the previous night's temperature lingering, though that too would turn to a humid as the day wore on. Mezran almost regretted having to leave the planet, but this was not his home, no matter how much he naturally fit in. Even if he stayed, he would have to be a recluse, caution to every action he took (tribble slaying not taken into account whatsoever) – and ultimately it would be too much, the Klingon would die in such exile. No, it was better he went back to his new home with his comrades and forge a history there.

“Tell me, my friends,” Mezran spoke up again as they exited the gates of Varth. The statues gleamed in the morning light, its bronze sheen gave a soft glow, “Do you have a metalsmith of sorts back home?” He was careful to leave out the name of Bielefeld in case any of the passing Klingons overheard them.

“I have a surprise, but it requires a bit of work,” he said with a shrug. “If there isn’t one, I will find a way to forge it myself.” He nodded to himself. Their loot would be a ways off the main beaten road, and just beyond that was their transportation. Mezran just hoped there was room enough to fit all of the stuff he had demanded as payment. Perhaps his companions could do something to help accommodate the cargo.

The list of things he asked was small compared to what usually passed for bounties:
A dozen barrels of assorted vintages of bloodwine and warnog (1 of each of rare vintage)
6 small cases of choice cut meats from various animals his people favored
Weapons as claimed by his friends (Mezran added a few more, modesty be damned)
1 bat'leth Mezran also took as a claim to complete his one-man armory
A few sharpening tools meant specifically for Klingon weapons
A few Klingon-fist-sized ores that Mezran specifically ordered for forging
And last but not least scrolls that held the recipe to soups and rokeg blood pie.

[Germanic Templars]

"This beach is perfectly fine, Aleki. We don't need to go somewhere else to enjoy the other's company,." Natiya swam closer in, wrapping her arms around him as she spoke.

Aleki smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead against hers til their noses were touching each other before giving her a kiss. Aleki then went on to say, "I know, but it is only fine because you are here."

[The Carlisle]

Kale faked a frown. "Hey wait a sec! I'm no runner," she said, giggling. She was never the most physically fit person. She has repeatedly failed the pickle jar test even with a warmed lid. Running was no different. She was never very fast. The only thing that went for her was her energy. Though her friend usually never raced for more than a few hundred feet.

She looked at Torii. "I think I'll hang back with you," she said. When offered a pair, Kale nodded. "Yes. Can't stand chlorine in my eyes," she said.

[Rocopurr]

Lilian was slightly disappointed that only Drova wanted to race. "Okay. I'll meet ya guys down there!" She got in position to start running, bent down with one leg stretched back and her hands touching the ground. She took a few deep breathes. "Ready... Set... Go!!", Lilian sprung up and began running. She took long strides for someone her size and was quick, but Lilian wasn't very coordinated and struggled to dodge objects in her path.

It felt good to run. Lilian loved the feeling of bouncing up and down with each step, the wind blowing against her face. She loved looking side to side and watching as the blurs of color slipped behind her. Running was liberating to her.

[Swith Witherward]

Dani poured herself another glass, setting the bottle down heavy on the floor. Alcohol had an amusing effect on the mind, she'd seen it in others and opted to try it out herself. To her folly, she was not expectant of how strongly it would impact her, as she hovered around her empty apartment babbling in Dronic ancient codes that seemed to bubble up. Even the other half of her mind was infected by this strange elixir; what joy humans pulled from being mentally impaired was beyond both parties.

She collapsed to the ground, her delirious state of mind not allowing her to walk any further. She dragged herself to the foot of her bed and propped herself against it where her head nodded from side to side. Vision and scenes began to overcome her head. Without her own volition she was being overtaken by this potent poison, she cursed herself for her curiosity, but relented some, settling the blame on her ailing state of mind. Ofa ll things she noticed, as long as she was so drunk and out of her head so was it. A cure this was not, but a temporary setback would suffice as well.

Slowly, she slipped into a slumber, and it all slipped away into delusion.

--

There was a river, yet it was hardly that of common nature; side by side, a fire of vibrant purples and violets slid directly alongside a stream of clear blue waters. The heavens were equally split along the same axis into oblivion, one a vast, open darkness, perforated by the glints of distant light, the other a bright, cheery blue, populated by clouds full and white. To the west she could see looking straight on, as the flow of flames slid endlessly through this awful emptiness. In direct contrast, the pristine river lazily went alongside a lush forest, dense with trees and wildlife. This surreal setting felt almost constructed, too lucid to be a simple dream. Dani tried to move herself, but was immobile with all but her head, as she realized. To the right, she could see her body as it was now, with fleshy limbs and wrapped in clothes of clean, bright white nature. Her hair was slightly disturbed by the gentle breezes of wind. The world was beauteous and bright, full and content, reminding her of the paradise which she had abandoned, now long gone.

She twisted her head away from this idyllic place to be welcomed to world more familiar than she could explain. Just out of view had been a collective of ships of all sizes, which appeared to follow every one of the familiar rigid shapes and harsh constructions characteristic to those of the Empire. They sailed slowly through this emptiness, this void that was apparently open space. She moved her arm, expecting to see much the same as she had before, but instead was met with a mechanical arm. She was frightened by it, alarmed at the recognizable components and parts that composed her true body. Wires crept around her cold shoulder, their calming hiss as they slid around her brought serenity to her overwhelmed mind.

She looked out to the distance, and she could see it.

They were closing in rather fast, actually, not slow at all. There was a planet ahead, it looked bright and rich, with a thick and lovely atmosphere encapsulating bright green continents and vivid blue oceans. Their approach was aggressive and fast; fighters raced by her and all else towards this planet. Turning her head back, she could hear the shrieks of their rapid entry, watching the dark shapes descend into her sight, racing then silently away, towards something just out of view in large numbers. She blinked. The faint sounds of fighting and explosions began to overcome the gentle sounds of the river. Out the skies followed dropships, crashing down into the forest, crushing without issue anything beneath. She blinked. Now, she could see the humanoid SecuriDrones running through the forests, and paths carved through the trees by the sounds of armor units, thudding along with heavy steps. The intensity grew, and dani felt a sickening feeling.

She blinked, but this time, did not open her eyes. That was when she heard it, the voice, so clear it pierced her mind and crept into her very soul.

"Atone."

She opened her eyes, and all had changed. The river was littered with the debris of battle; tanks and destroyed Drones littered its banks and clogged its flow. No longer could she see the other world, released from her bonds. She crawled along the wet ground, looking up to see the skies were no longer clear, but choked with clouds, a faint red gloom rested heavily upon everything. She clambered through the mud, rising to her feet in a slight daze. Alarms droned on in the far off distance with wavering, dizzying intensity, towards where she could once never view. No longer able to hide, she could then see it; towers and skyscrapers rising up to the once-proud skies, fires streaking and swallowing their innards, a city consumed by war. Intense fighting swallowed the airspace around it, as bolts of energy crackled up to strike down Drone fighters. Dani was overwhelmed, the smell of ashes and smoke filled her nostrils, she fell back into the hard body of a dead Drone, it was just like FUBAR... Darius...

She couldn't think, she could only see and hear and smell. The water that rushed over her felt as though nothing, nor the flames that singed her apparel from the burning remnant of a robotic arm. She closed her eyes, wondering if one could dream in a dream, but was awoken by a sound that struck her core. A deep and ominous growl called from the city, toppling over even the sound of a collapsing building. Her eyes bolted open, numbers flashing through her vision as the clouds above the city began to swirl. The same, familiar pattern was happening, just as it had that day, just as it had so many others. The swirl, the reveal, and unmistakable end.

She tried to move, but was again immobilized. It was halfway now; much of the ship was visible, illuminated by the brightness of its own light. It was like a sun, a bright red sun, that cast its rays all along the underbellies of the thick, turbulent clouds. The wave of heat rolled over her; she could see the steam began to rise from still pools of water, and trees began to catch flame. The fighting had all but ground to a halt, the last remnants of the Drones just passing through the burning forest now. She tried, she tried to remember before, that wonderful place, but it was gone.

Moments later, so was she, as the city was instantly swallowed by fire. The roaring flame obscured all, and she was blinded by the light, and deafened by the sound. When exactly it rolled over her she never knew, but when she was once more returned to the cold embrace of the dark void, all she could see was ruin. The planet was engulfed by an ever-spreading wave of death, which left behind utter hell. The epicenter was a glowing orb; it was done, over.

Yet it was not this she thought of, it was that one word alone, its inner meaning beyond her, but all at once, well received.

She closed her eyes,

and woke up.

The window covering still clattered against the glass pane, enticed into dance by the same wet breeze that carried the scent of salt and drizzle through the cracked window by which the Drone had so aptly gained entry. He paid it little heed and continued his internal cycling. A streak of lightening cast the room in brilliance before plunging it back into shadow - he existed and then became muted once more. The flesh bag on the floor, stupefied by the alcohol's harsh properties, hadn't so much as protested his arrival. He had tucked himself in a corner of her apartment like some horrific spider poised to capture a fly. The wet tree branches and green grasses caught in his various apparatus lent a sinister air, portraying him as a monster that had emerged straight from some long-necrotic silver screen.

A solitary red optic cast the dark room in little light but it was all that the Drone needed in order to assist Dani from slumber to awaking. He had emerged without bidding while Dani rested against the foot of her bed and wrestled with the delusions haunting her mind. He had come because leaving offered nothing. He had come to better understand this creature that spoke his language. He had come because he no longer was what he had once been, and this knowledge unsettled him greatly. He watched. He waited.

She stirred.

His soft voice was barely audible above the harsh staccato of the driving rain outside that window but the deep resonance of his low timbre carried well enough for even her organic hearing to discern.

"'Each of us is aware he's a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring that death, the finis vitae sed non amoris that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's simply futile. To be a clock on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is smashed and rebuilt over and again, one in whose mechanism despair and love are set in motion by the watchmaker along with the first movements of the cogs. To know one is a repeater of suffering felt ever more deeply as it becomes increasingly comical through a multiple repetitions. To replay human existence - fine. But to replay it in the way a drunk replays a corny tune pushing coins over and over into the jukebox?'"

It was a passage from a book hastily discarded the day the Drones had plunged the world into darkness. He had discovered it tucked under a rotting car and had scanned it to ascertain better meaning of the world around him. It had enlightened him. The 1961 Polish science fiction novel by Lem described the ultimate inadequacy of communication between human and non-human species and Darius found himself falling back into these old musings whenever the weather became overly broody. He pondered them now, as Dani slept, and even as she woke. Conflictory paradigms tangled with one another within his core. He had almost come to accept this internal hallucinatory battle, as perhaps he one day would embrace the psychosis caused by the very protocols that vied for possession of his 'soul'. Until then, he was content to observe and remain reserved.

"How do you feel?"

[Swith Witherward]

"It is one of the more delightful qualities," Giovenith agreed sincerely, nodding and remembering back to many times humanity had pulled through together. "You know, I know the whole first moon landing probably doesn't seem very impressive when compared to other people's accomplishments, but it always seemed like a good, pull-together time for me. I wasn't alive yet to personally experience it, but I've heard stories, and one thing I enjoyed hearing was how even though the space race was a fierce competition between two nations, actually accomplishing the task was a huge moment of unity for humanity. No matter what nation, it was just cool that someone got on the moon at all, and the nation that did accomplish it set up a small monument there that celebrated people who had worked toward the goal from both sides of the competition. Sort of a symbolic, good sport handshake." She waved a hand dismissively, "I know that probably doesn't sound too mind-blowing, but I still like it. And why thank you very much, you're very easy to talk with as well, Mister Rodney. I like you!"

A smile brightened Rodney's face. The moon landing was indeed a major accomplishment, and it was made at a time when Rodney secretly dreaded the humans would do themselves in over ideology. "It's actually one of man's finest hours, in my opin-"

The quiet late-night hush was broken by the sound of pattering feet treading down the halls towards them. It was Lilian, of course, running full tilt in an effort to beat Drova to the pool. Rodney had no way of knowing that their destination was the door right off the lobby (HINT HINT) so the noise and quick approach caught him off guard. He tensed, preparing to either leap into flight or lash out at whatever attacker was foolish enough to mistake him as something actually human.

His ears strained to determine exactly when the pair would arrive in the lobby. "Lively bunch you have here," he mused through clenched teeth.

Ru'Hoff grinned at the lovers. He'd enjoyed feeding off the emotions in the dining hall and was now content to drift along in Mezran's wake.

The prospect of booty captured Ha'nS' attention. "This is agreeable," his sharp teeth flashed between smiling lips. "I only hope you two haven't caused any... hiccups. Let's go before anything else crops up."

“Bah,” Mezran responded with a dismissive gesture at the thought of timeline contamination, “Even if we did, we are hardly a page in the history books. Those tehqeq’pu are everywhere and it would be another century or two until the vermin is completely eradicated. And as for the fool,” he paused for a moment, giving though to the consequences of the fight and his actions against the old fool. In the end Mezran gave shrug and made an unpleasant face for a moment, “Maybe the petaQ will think twice to wax on false stories with that oily tongue of his. His punishment will by the guild and his own house will be enough. At least Ru’Hoff stayed my hand,” he grunted in admission; he would have slain the coward. Although living in shame was still a fate worse than death for a Klingon, Mezran would just have to take comfort in that knowledge.

Making their way out of Varth was uneventful. Already the streets were busy as usual, the city’s guards were lined on the walls, always at watch, and the citizens of the fair city were setting up shop while the children were dragged to whatever class they had to attend before noon. The air was crisp and light, the previous night's temperature lingering, though that too would turn to a humid as the day wore on. Mezran almost regretted having to leave the planet, but this was not his home, no matter how much he naturally fit in. Even if he stayed, he would have to be a recluse, caution to every action he took (tribble slaying not taken into account whatsoever) – and ultimately it would be too much, the Klingon would die in such exile. No, it was better he went back to his new home with his comrades and forge a history there.

“Tell me, my friends,” Mezran spoke up again as they exited the gates of Varth. The statues gleamed in the morning light, its bronze sheen gave a soft glow, “Do you have a metalsmith of sorts back home?” He was careful to leave out the name of Bielefeld in case any of the passing Klingons overheard them.

“I have a surprise, but it requires a bit of work,” he said with a shrug. “If there isn’t one, I will find a way to forge it myself.” He nodded to himself. Their loot would be a ways off the main beaten road, and just beyond that was their transportation. Mezran just hoped there was room enough to fit all of the stuff he had demanded as payment. Perhaps his companions could do something to help accommodate the cargo.

The list of things he asked was small compared to what usually passed for bounties:
A dozen barrels of assorted vintages of bloodwine and warnog (1 of each of rare vintage)
6 small cases of choice cut meats from various animals his people favored
Weapons as claimed by his friends (Mezran added a few more, modesty be damned)
1 bat'leth Mezran also took as a claim to complete his one-man armory
A few sharpening tools meant specifically for Klingon weapons
A few Klingon-fist-sized ores that Mezran specifically ordered for forging
And last but not least scrolls that held the recipe to soups and rokeg blood pie.

Humid air saturated Ha'nS' lungs. He would miss this place. The strange planet would forever carry significance for him, and not just because of his midnight union with Chrys. No, for once in his life, he felt that he truly had escaped the pedestrian monotony that was his life. Others might not think it so. After all, something was always going amiss, something was always dying, something was always rising in challenge, and all of his brothers were insane... this cast a peculiar color on life, especially to someone who had never experienced so much as a puff of magical smoke. Ages upon ages of it had damped any surreal feel or sense of wonderment. It would have remained so but for Chrys' own unique brand of magic. He cast a grateful glance her way before returning to the conversation.

"A metalsmith? Perhaps. We'd need to scout for a reputable one. There are several who craft machines, such as the priests at the observatory, and there are tinkerers such as Nikanor. Perhaps the Templ-... that is, the Warriors of Gliese would do? Our own smiths are located far from that place. Consider it a trip to a forgewo-, er, town. Why do you ask?"

The prospect of a surprise delighted Ru'Hoff. He approached anticipation with childlike glee, not that Mezran would turn into der Heilige Nikolaus and start handing out small gifts.

Oh, put that thought out of mind! Ru'Hoff chastised himself. He focused on all things Klingon instead, thus avoiding accidentally turning Mezran into a kindly old human bishop with a crook and white beard.

"If we can't locate one, perhaps you could set up in the Ruins?" Ru'Hoff offered a whiskery smile to the Klingon captain, "or on the outskirts, which would make it accessible to others besides us?"

[Mincaldenteans]

Humid air saturated Ha'nS' lungs. He would miss this place. The strange planet would forever carry significance for him, and not just because of his midnight union with Chrys. No, for once in his life, he felt that he truly had escaped the pedestrian monotony that was his life. Others might not think it so. After all, something was always going amiss, something was always dying, something was always rising in challenge, and all of his brothers were insane... this cast a peculiar color on life, especially to someone who had never experienced so much as a puff of magical smoke. Ages upon ages of it had damped any surreal feel or sense of wonderment. It would have remained so but for Chrys' own unique brand of magic. He cast a grateful glance her way before returning to the conversation.

"A metalsmith? Perhaps. We'd need to scout for a reputable one. There are several who craft machines, such as the priests at the observatory, and there are tinkerers such as Nikanor. Perhaps the Templ-... that is, the Warriors of Gliese would do? Our own smiths are located far from that place. Consider it a trip to a forgewo-, er, town. Why do you ask?"

The prospect of a surprise delighted Ru'Hoff. He approached anticipation with childlike glee, not that Mezran would turn into der Heilige Nikolaus and start handing out small gifts.

Oh, put that thought out of mind! Ru'Hoff chastised himself. He focused on all things Klingon instead, thus avoiding accidentally turning Mezran into a kindly old human bishop with a crook and white beard.

"If we can't locate one, perhaps you could set up in the Ruins?" Ru'Hoff offered a whiskery smile to the Klingon captain, "or on the outskirts, which would make it accessible to others besides us?"

The Klingon could only nod absently at the thought. He was no smith of any sort, but it would pass the time among them. Bielefeld wasn't a war zone and from the peaceful setting and people that inhabited it; Mezran had quite a stride of peaceful cohabitation to get accustomed to. And he doubt there would be much call for an able warrior such as himself anytime soon. "Aye," he said slowly, his voice a deep rolling rumble of acknowledgement, "I only know how to make one a few things, I am no craftsman, but it would pass the time when we are back. I recall there is also a battlefield of sorts, I imagine there is some call for it, no? I would not have these weapons be dull and blunt from neglect. We can revisit that prospect once we are home and after I have forged what I have intended. Which brings us to...

"This," Mezran said with a gesture of his head to their bounty, his jagged teeth out in wide smile. The guard had long since saluted them and left them to their devices. Now the question was could they haul all this into their transport? But hopefully they didn't have to, and Mezran asked, "Perhaps another transport will be able to take these for us? It would be rather cramped putting even half of these with us," he said with a "chuckle" (whatever passed for one for a Klingon).

[Swith Witherward]

The Klingon could only nod absently at the thought. He was no smith of any sort, but it would pass the time among them. Bielefeld wasn't a war zone and from the peaceful setting and people that inhabited it; Mezran had quite a stride of peaceful cohabitation to get accustomed to. And he doubt there would be much call for an able warrior such as himself anytime soon. "Aye," he said slowly, his voice a deep rolling rumble of acknowledgement, "I only know how to make one a few things, I am no craftsman, but it would pass the time when we are back. I recall there is also a battlefield of sorts, I imagine there is some call for it, no? I would not have these weapons be dull and blunt from neglect. We can revisit that prospect once we are home and after I have forged what I have intended. Which brings us to...

"This," Mezran said with a gesture of his head to their bounty, his jagged teeth out in wide smile. The guard had long since saluted them and left them to their devices. Now the question was could they haul all this into their transport? But hopefully they didn't have to, and Mezran asked, "Perhaps another transport will be able to take these for us? It would be rather cramped putting even half of these with us," he said with a "chuckle" (whatever passed for one for a Klingon).

Ah weapons and booze, the two most prized things in a cultist's heart. At least, if they're disciples of War. Ru'Hoff was practically salivating as he ran his fingers over exquisite blades and promising barrels.

"Beautiful," he murmured as if speaking to a lover sharing his pillow. "Glorious. Absolutely breathtaking."

These were hardly words that a typical Klingon would exhale (most likely) but Ru'Hoff was too busy worshiping steel to remember his proper Klingon manners.

"We'll think of something," Ha'nS nodded to Mezran encouragingly. "There is always a way to forge weapons. Your suggestion for the battle arena is a promising one. I look forward to it."

He eyed the loot in front of them and sighed. "It might fit in Charumati's SUV. We can try. If that fails, cultists have deep pockets which hold many things without worry of weight or cumbersome edges."

This was true. Klaus had equipped them with those pockets as standard issue for uniforms. The exact term escapes the writer's mind at the moment, due to the lateness in which she is writing. Something hammer. Yes, that's it. HammerSomething pockets. Ah, Hammerspace. It also worked for the SUV. There was a reason why Thriller was able to stuff so many crates of fine Gliese tea and organ meat into that back compartment. In truth, they could shove a rhinoceros in there and still have amble breathing room.

"Let's see how much we can get in the vehicle," Ha'nS suggested. He winked at ChryS as if to say, Don't worry. We have this covered.

[Giovenith]

A smile brightened Rodney's face. The moon landing was indeed a major accomplishment, and it was made at a time when Rodney secretly dreaded the humans would do themselves in over ideology. "It's actually one of man's finest hours, in my opin-"

The quiet late-night hush was broken by the sound of pattering feet treading down the halls towards them. It was Lilian, of course, running full tilt in an effort to beat Drova to the pool. Rodney had no way of knowing that their destination was the door right off the lobby (HINT HINT) so the noise and quick approach caught him off guard. He tensed, preparing to either leap into flight or lash out at whatever attacker was foolish enough to mistake him as something actually human.

His ears strained to determine exactly when the pair would arrive in the lobby. "Lively bunch you have here," he mused through clenched teeth.

"Those are some of my friends!" Giovenith clarified with enthusiasm, and then tilted her head in bemusement at the other teens' rushing. "The ones in the club I told you about. I think they're going swimming! Not a big swimmer myself, as I need a special swimsuit. Weirdness about too much skin for myself, you see. Just an awkward thing for myself."

Giovenith had never been raised to be uptight about skin-showing, save for absolute common sense. It was simply something she had always had personal trouble with. She was fine taking baths and showers, yes, but when it came to being in public, the thought of people looking at too much was... chilling. Creepy crawly. Made her want to hide under her blanket in her room with all her stuffed friends. She'd tried to wear a bikini in public once, ONCE... she'd immediately burst into tears the moment it was time to get out of the car and begged Aeritha to take them home, which her sister promptly had, and been none too pleased about.

"Do you swim?" she asked pleasantly. "If I have my right gear, I do!"

"Welcome." She said with a chuckle, looking at the hourglass with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not really an expert on this sort of thing, but I think that's water vapor... Or something." She put the sleeping Saren on the floor and walked over to take a look. "Never seen an hourglass that worked like this. Most of the ones back home used sand.""

Willow carefully reached out again and turned the hourglass back on it's original side, seeing if this would correct it. Within the glass, the miniature vapor clouds descended down through the middle, and fell back to the other side in many droplets of water, reminiscent of rain, until it was filled again with water. Not a drop was left back on the top.

"Hm. As a former citizen of Cloudsdale," Willow declared, half-joking, half-serious. "I don't believe water is supposed to do that in such a container. There's obviously no weather factory inside this hourglass."

[Germanic Templars]

J'aluk, who hasn't been heard from or seen for a while, walked out of the apartment and to the pool wearing nothing but khaki shorts and a blood stone gem on his neck. He felt awkward, an emotion he doesn't feel too often, but it was that season. The one where his hair - like tentacles start producing a musk. One not too foul where people can smell it ten feet away and gag or puke, but not too sweet where people are attracted to it. It was a smell that if a person was in elbows reach of him, they could smell the odd odor. Enough where they might feel nauseous. None the less, J'aluk walked to the edge of the pool close to the ladder where he sat down, placing his feet in the water.

[The Drone Empire]

The window covering still clattered against the glass pane, enticed into dance by the same wet breeze that carried the scent of salt and drizzle through the cracked window by which the Drone had so aptly gained entry. He paid it little heed and continued his internal cycling. A streak of lightening cast the room in brilliance before plunging it back into shadow - he existed and then became muted once more. The flesh bag on the floor, stupefied by the alcohol's harsh properties, hadn't so much as protested his arrival. He had tucked himself in a corner of her apartment like some horrific spider poised to capture a fly. The wet tree branches and green grasses caught in his various apparatus lent a sinister air, portraying him as a monster that had emerged straight from some long-necrotic silver screen.

A solitary red optic cast the dark room in little light but it was all that the Drone needed in order to assist Dani from slumber to awaking. He had emerged without bidding while Dani rested against the foot of her bed and wrestled with the delusions haunting her mind. He had come because leaving offered nothing. He had come to better understand this creature that spoke his language. He had come because he no longer was what he had once been, and this knowledge unsettled him greatly. He watched. He waited.

She stirred.

His soft voice was barely audible above the harsh staccato of the driving rain outside that window but the deep resonance of his low timbre carried well enough for even her organic hearing to discern.

"'Each of us is aware he's a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring that death, the finis vitae sed non amoris that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's simply futile. To be a clock on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is smashed and rebuilt over and again, one in whose mechanism despair and love are set in motion by the watchmaker along with the first movements of the cogs. To know one is a repeater of suffering felt ever more deeply as it becomes increasingly comical through a multiple repetitions. To replay human existence - fine. But to replay it in the way a drunk replays a corny tune pushing coins over and over into the jukebox?'"

It was a passage from a book hastily discarded the day the Drones had plunged the world into darkness. He had discovered it tucked under a rotting car and had scanned it to ascertain better meaning of the world around him. It had enlightened him. The 1961 Polish science fiction novel by Lem described the ultimate inadequacy of communication between human and non-human species and Darius found himself falling back into these old musings whenever the weather became overly broody. He pondered them now, as Dani slept, and even as she woke. Conflictory paradigms tangled with one another within his core. He had almost come to accept this internal hallucinatory battle, as perhaps he one day would embrace the psychosis caused by the very protocols that vied for possession of his 'soul'. Until then, he was content to observe and remain reserved.

"How do you feel?"

The Dream was wavering away, down the same mental toilet her drunken stupor was flushing down. What little remained was enough to create perhaps the worst feeling in the world - a growing headache, mixed haphazardly with drowsiness and confusion. As her mind tried to reassemble itself, she returned to the material world. The faint grumblings of her inner demon flickered in and out, as she was well aware. Then, distinct from the babblings her inner self spoke, there was another voice. Unfortunately, the words she heard here sounded like nonsense all the same, as she rolled over to drag herself off the ground. Her mind was still murky, her eyes mostly closed.

She fell back upon the bed as they continued, this newly found comfort welcoming her back to the gentle embrace of sleep. She would have, too, until the sound of thunder and lightning tore her from this descent. She sat up at once, her breaths panicked, her eyes wide open to the dark, hearing only one voice now. She thought it was but an artifact of her dream, a mental ploy by her other mind to annoy her, until she saw that familiar glow, sitting so strangely in the dark.

She jumped at the initial sighting, but corrected herself. Though she could hardly see him, she knew he could see her just fine, and she would act in kind; This at least answered her questions about his whereabouts.

"Nauseous." She said plainly in response to his question. It was very strange, for she felt as though she should be up in arms and ready to act at his presence, as was her 'instincts' on such breaches of personal privacy and security, but either it was that this was a Drone, or more simply that he was familiar, she felt almost comfortable with his presence, minus the chilled draft, seeping in through his way of entry.

"Would you like a drink?" She said in humor of his presence. Darius, the other Darius, had taught her proper manners and etiquette, and one of the best ways to make a person comfortable was to give them food and drink, as he always found. Of course, as she picked the bottle from the hallway floor, she knew he couldn't taste a drop, nor would she recommend it, in truth. That was a horrible idea.

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick's fur had lain flat against his skin; a layer of mud that had stuck to him had plastered it down, trapping water. He'd been spooked by the danger of ingesting the dirt, dust, and liquids of Vaffelheim- not that licking away the mud would have done him much good. He still would have been cold, would have shivered; the water, ice against his skin, leached heat, and would have done so regardless. (The mud, at least, had trapped a smidgen of warmth.) Having dealt with such conditions many times before had made him no more amenable to them, and the scarf which would have kept him warm despite these was in the small nook in his apartment which served as a bedroom.

Getting to his feet, he'd found himself facing northwest, The Library visible in the distance. Well. He'd intended to return to the Building (maybe grab the scarf), but-

The ringing of the approaching trolley had settled the question, and he'd rushed to the corner. Meowing loudly, he'd boarded, touching an ankle with a paw which (hesitantly) he'd licked to explain his destination and apologize for the mess. Once, he'd have snuck on, or else clung to the outside, but he was a citizen in his own right now, and besides it was free. (Not that he'd have been forced to sneak on even if it hadn't been- someone both observant and low to the ground can find quite a few coins- not enough for rent, but, over time, sufficient for a ride.)
(The cat did know what a library card was, but had put off obtaining one, enjoying the excuse which the lack had been providing to head to the library in person and not being able to transport the literature in question. He'd seriously consider rectifying the situation, however.)

The ride hadn't been terribly eventful; a few people had looked slightly familiar, but not enough so for the cat to risk approaching them. He'd sat alone for awhile; originally he'd considering tucking himself under a seat but then deciding that, as such a citizen, he could occupy one. (Besides, they were rather comfortable.) Near the end, someone had sat down next to him, but they'd been quite oblivious, to the point where Nick had been fortunate to avoid having been squished; Nick meanwhile had been dozing, and hadn't bothered to interact.

Eventually, the stop at Memorial Park was announced; Nick disembarked.

He passed a restaurant- by this time famished, the cat sniffed the air wistfully and decided to find a mouse, which he promptly, neatly, and humanely dispatched, unknowingly using his power to anesthetize it.
He got on a bus after that; finally, he arrived at his actual destination. A hypothetical watcher (say at a window) would be treated to an interesting sight as the soaked cat, distinguished from the proverbial drowned rat only by triangular ears, a furred tail, and (of course) size, plodded up and then in, paws squelching on the marble; once sheltered from the rain, he shook himself, not wanting to damage any books. Walking up the stairs, taking an elevator, and approaching that floor's transparent table, the cat pawed an orb to request the comic book which he'd been reading and- a memory stirring- any comic book which might relate to his powers, specifically ones involving sensing the future or communicating through nonstandard means.

Of course, that resulted in his getting knocked off of the table by an avalanche of paper. A patiently waiting fellow patron, whose eyes had widened as she'd watched a rather normal-looking cat of all things operating the table in a blasé manner, chuckled, scooped him up, and impulsively started to kiss his forehead, hesitated, and instead asked if there was anything with which she could help him. Lacking a better option and needing help to transport the literature in question besides, Nick sheepishly explained.

On the woman's advice, he requested that all books not prominently involving a character with such a power be sent back- this shrunk the pile to about a third of its original size. Deciding not to focus on abilities connecting to the future at this time narrowed it by an additional twelfth (although there were still far too many books for the cat to tackle); taking reading level into consideration shrunk it a smidge; and at that point Nick just picked five which looked promising and sent the remainder back, re-requesting his original selection.

Carrying the six books and- insisting- a tired-looking cat, the woman went to a specific lounge, unloaded these, exited, and- pinching herself- walked back to the table. Nick, meanwhile, got started reading, deciding that next time a criterion which he'd use for narrowing the selection would be color schemes- specifically, a very high proportion of blue and green.

Few people remained in the library, but someone- a professor from the University of Bielefield, armed with a camera and determined to document as many quotes as possible on the off chance of being able to discover a new language- still paced the floors. He decided to sit down in a lounge and stretch his legs, and, by coincidence (that thing so often not only dismissed as insignificant but even used to dismiss other things as such) he selected the lounge occupied by a certain cat.

He glimpsed a variety of books- mainly comics, but with a few hardcovers mixed in- surrounding a cat, who sat in a chair and splayed his paws across one such comic. The effect, endearingly, was that of making it appear that the cat was reading. His family would get a kick out of that; he photographed the scene. (Being nearsighted, he hadn't noted precisely what the reading material concerned consisted of; his wife would tease him for the next month about the "psychic cat" which apparently he had inadvertently discovered.) He then headed towards said cat, concerned that the books would be messed up and resolving to find its owner-

Said cat moved a paw to the right edge, lifted his head out of the way, and carefully turned the page.

---

Normally, one couldn't sneak up on even a normal cat quite that easily, let alone a sentient one whose experiences had conditioned him to figuratively jump at the slightest unexpected noise.

Normally, said cat wasn't thoroughly engrossed in not only a highly enjoyable story, but also in squeezing out as much information/advice regarding his own abilities as possible. Not to mention that he'd been ignoring noise the entire evening; while humans probably wouldn't even notice the clockwork noises of the caretaker and its (presumably) subordinates, feline ears are more sensitive to such by an order of magnitude.

Of course, when said cat had to lift his head in a way which put the human, walking towards him, nearly in front of his eyes, the sneaking up came to an end. Nick loudly meowed, carefully finishing turning the page before rearing up, claws extended, and the professor decided to let someone else handle the cat (who was not acting like a normal cat) and headed for the bathroom.

Meanwhile, startled out of his reverie, Nick realized that he was growing quite tired. He wished that he could get the books home somehow, even toying with the idea of calling Rudolf, but settled for going to a computer and typing a note- he'd ask for help transporting the reading material home tomorrow.

Dear librarians,
My name is Nick. I am a cat. I am using these books for purposes of research and pleasure. They have information which is proving helpful and are also very fun to read. I have checked them out, but I cannot get them home due to my size. I will request help and return, but want them placed somewhere safe in the meantime but not put away. Putting them away will make them hard for me to find later.
Thanks, Nick

That done, he changed the font to 30 pt bold, printed the note, placed it next to the door in question, pulled said door closed, left the building, took miscellaneous public transportation, and eventually reached the Building.

He didn't even make it to his room, curling up in the middle of the lobby. Having perceived it as thickly carpeted in a velvetlike fabric came in handy- while less comfortable than, say, either of his beds or his pillow on Rudolf's desk would've been, he would still be able to sleep quite soundly.

Well... Unless someone were to step on him. Hopefully no one perceived the floor as dark brown or furry.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Willow carefully reached out again and turned the hourglass back on it's original side, seeing if this would correct it. Within the glass, the miniature vapor clouds descended down through the middle, and fell back to the other side in many droplets of water, reminiscent of rain, until it was filled again with water. Not a drop was left back on the top.

"Hm. As a former citizen of Cloudsdale," Willow declared, half-joking, half-serious. "I don't believe water is supposed to do that in such a container. There's obviously no weather factory inside this hourglass."

Sherril raised a brow as she watched it work, rather confused. "That's an interesting hourglass... Might have not been used to measure time. I'd wager a guess that it was some sort of party trick. Sort of like electricity before we figured out it could power things." She said. "So, in the interest of curiosity, how did you get here? Cloudsdale is in Equestria, and even the resident omniscient scientist equine back home can't even figure out interdimensional travel."

[Giovenith]

Sherril raised a brow as she watched it work, rather confused. "That's an interesting hourglass... Might have not been used to measure time. I'd wager a guess that it was some sort of party trick. Sort of like electricity before we figured out it could power things." She said. "So, in the interest of curiosity, how did you get here? Cloudsdale is in Equestria, and even the resident omniscient scientist equine back home can't even figure out interdimensional travel."

"Con artists, toxic black goop, and a rabies-infested chipmunk. Mostly the chipmunk," Willow explained dryly, with a deadpan expression. Then, after a beat, he decided that Sherril probably couldn't guess much from that, and went on. "Sterling and I were trying to prepare a spell that allowed long-distance teleportation. It required several ingredients, one of which is this nasty, drippy, black gunk known in Equestria as "Liquid Ebony," which we managed to strangle out a decent price for from a local con-pony. Everything was going well until we set up the spell in a local park, when this stupid, random chipmunk flipped out and started attacking us for no freaking reason. We couldn't focus on the desired location while the spell was firing up like the instructions said, so before we knew it, the spell shoop-da-whooped and sent us here. Because you know, Canterlot is such a short leap from a whole 'nother dimension." He paused. "I place one percent of the blame on that guy we bought the Liquid Ebony from, and the other ninety-nine percent on that chipmunk."

Testing the hourglass one last time, Willow turned it the other way again, with the same vapors appearing at the bottom. So that was it, little clouds one turn, raining back down to water with another. Some strange magic, perhaps. He wondered if that meant that the other antiques had magical properties as well.

"From there, some residents of this building found us and let us stay here," he went on, pulling over the astrolabe with his teeth next. "What about you? Did you come to visit your brother?"

[The BranRiech]

Somewhat taken aback when Lillian ran off, Drova knew he'd have to work hard to catch up, but he figured he could make it, she had gained a while on him though. The Prince smiled as he unfurled his wings, and with a whoosh, took flight down the hall after the fleet-footed Rabbit girl. Once at the same pace, he landed silently on the floor and started running alongside her.

--

"It's always good with eachother, and be honest, you'd be checking out all the babes here if I weren't here." Natiya chided jokingly as she turned around in the water, taking in the sights, while savoring Aleki's warm embrace.

[Torsiedelle]

Watching Drova surge forward and fly was funny. It was cute, seeing how even these older teens could play and chase each other like kids. Torii laughed and did a sort of jog forward, putting her arm around Yuna's shoulder. "See that? He's crazy. I guess we all have something that gets us a little crazy."

She tilted her head and saw that the group was really going to the indoors pool. That was right, she thought. She forgot about the indoor pool...

Was that Giovenith? That man was probably Bodkins, or someone who knew him. She remembered how Gio wanted to find him right away. Torii felt a little bad, as she wasn't to determined.

"Hey, Mister, hey Gio!", She called, raising her other hand.