PL IC Thread IX++ //Oddsbodikins & Atomic Kittens//

[Giovenith]

Sensing Nick's distress, Willow also reached over Brit's arm to pet him supportively. "Hey no man... I doubt they'll get you in the lobby, and you can come spend the night in any of our apartments anytime. But still. It's okay to feel afraid, there is no shame in that."

Although he hadn't done much besides speak what he believed to be the truth, Willow still felt somewhat guilty for bringing them all into this situation where they had to discuss it. The last thing he wanted was to convey a feeling of hopelessness, he wanted to actually do something about it... flowery encouragement was more Giovenith's thing. Willow preferred to find solutions when possible.

"... You know, I don't think Misses Bela is in hiding," he finally said, remembering. "She's in law, and she's working deeply with all the politics with this. Obviously she must have some safe way of getting in touch with her husband, as well as anyone else we need to get in touch with for our own problems. She might not have the exact answers, but it's a start."

[Cerillium]

"Good afternoon, madam."

Septimus offered a sympathetic smile before looking around the lobby, noting how empty it was despite the fact that the offices had not technically closed. It annoyed him, slightly, how inefficient democratic governments could be at times.

He supposed it could be worse; at least with a democracy the inefficiencies meant catastrophic failure took time to ripple. Their greatest weakness was also a strength at times.

"I just came by to do any logistical things before I took up my post," he raised his hand to stop her from getting up to make the copy. The poor woman was tortured enough as it was by the bright lighting of the office, "You don't need to make me a copy, madam, just show me the list. I'll take a photo myself before I swing by the security booth for ID."

Everything that was on paper wasn't always on him which meant one more barrier to perfect control. If he wanted to keep this city together, that's what he needed. The slate sent to him by FUBAR would be invaluable to this purpose, but his own processor - despite its weakened power capacity - would also suffice. Though it couldn't offer running commentary - for which he was indebted to Neste a thousand times over - the little circuit board and metal implant at the base of the back of his neck still vigilantly recorded everything he came across that he noted as important.

Even the little things were important. The secret to success was not in fact one huge leap but a series of tiny ones: several gears working in tandem as part of a well-oiled machine that would produce the desired output at the desired time. And when they were calibrated just right, working as they should, they produced something beautiful and lasting.

Oh, how he had missed the political game.

"The wonders of advanced technology!" The sharp strike of jackboot heels on marble accompanied these words as Klaus strode across the Rathaus lobby. His intent wasn't to intercept Septimus. Rather, he was in the process of leaving but couldn't pass up an opportunity to speak to the man apart from Residents' ears. The German paused before the cyborg and brought his heels together with a sharp, respectful click. The motion gave rise to the scent of cigarettes and coffee still clinging to his woolen grey uniform.

"Representative Itum, I must congratulate you on your victory. Pity I didn't have a chance before Zalgofest," the former Nazi intoned in his whimsical accent. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips formed a genuine smile, and blue eyes twinkled behind eyelids narrowed by the rise of his rosy cheeks. "This fatigued flower is Greta. Not to be confused with the Raptor bearing the same name! She's as resourceful as she is lovely and, as you can see, she's as lovely as a sunbeam glinting off a daisy."

A mock pout pushed the reception's lips forward and she batted her eyelashes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Herr Klaus," she advised as she set the roster in front of Septimus, "But thank you. I'm not feeling at all lovely. Hangover."

"What hangover? You don't have a hangover. In fact, you've never felt better!"

And so it was. The receptionist blushed as she squared her shoulders, the fatigue gnawing her bones instantly replaced by a sense of being well rested. She had never truly grown accustomed to his strange powers, even after all this time, but she wasn't about to complain. "I owe you, Klaus. It's good to have you back."

"You don't, and I'm not. I've resigned, and that's something we're not going to discuss right now," his smile fell slightly. "But now, I think I'll accompany the Representative to the security office."

He leaned towards Septimus and prompted in an undertone, "I know you're busy and have things to do, but I'd be happy if we could have a quick word, bitte. Won't take but a moment."

[Cerillium]

[]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[] “Therefore they did watch over their people, and did nourish them with things pertaining to righteousness.” —Mosiah 23:18 The Men grouped in Bielefeld's Memorial Park said nothing. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the solid onyx bird of prey resting atop the marble plinth they surrounded. As one, they bowed their heads in reverence to it. No magic would ever touch it, nor enemy attack destroy it, for it represented the being who had stood as a guardian of the Multiverse far longer than the existence of many of the nations contained within it. This exquisite woman, this creator of the ever-enchanting D'Aquisto, First Imperatrice of the Dominion which she founded, had withstood many a trial during her tenure. She had never demanded respect. It had been accorded to her by those willing to understand the burdens of her position. But she had been emptied of her godlike power and shrugged off her oppressive mantle and rejoined the people which she cared so deeply for. It was the end of an era and the preceptors of that Multiverse, those charged with passing on the knowledge gained through their own lengthy incumbency, would not allow her transition to go unnoticed nor her light to be forgotten. The golden plaque affixed below the bird's commanding talons did not list her deeds nor attempt to explain the complexity of her role. Such a thing would be impossible. It bore only her name: Nathicana. The Men's heads raised once more, stoic faces lifted towards the noonday sun. Though their hearts were burdened and their inner daemons lashed out in dismay, they shed no tear over the era's end. Not here. Not in public. Rather, they chose to celebrate her accomplishments, and to rejoice in her new freedom to participate in all the goodness Elohim had in store for her. []𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[][]𺰘¨˜°ºð[]

[Torsiedelle]

Still having yet to see her friend, Torii figured that he was feeling just as bad as she was, and he needed some space. She sighed again, and picked up the pace.]

A minute later, she had tracked down Tsu's door. She wondered if Edge was there, too, or if Tsu was the only one home, or if she was even home at all. Torii knocked on Tsu's door and held her breath. She wanted to hang out with her old friend for once.

.......

There was no way she was going back home so early. She didn't dress her best and practice her speaking to stay isolated. Still, what could Katya do? She was lonely...

"I'm gonna go get drunk.", She mumbled. Chaos always cheered her up, and it had been a long time since she'd had some of that infamous Elfs Blood that always had her heaving over a toilet, back when she and Kei and Dora drank together. Those were the best times she'd had.

She stepped outside and quietly crossed the street, and went to find her favorite seat at the bar in Chaos. She grabbed a mug of beer to start off and went to thinking to herself. Nobody would mind if she indulged anyways.

[Highfort]

The representative turned, slightly startled, as the dapper man addressed him from across the lobby followed by the distinct clicking of heels. One of the Chaos Cultists, and Klaus to boot. Septimus offered the man a smile of acknowledgment to meet the pleasant man's own grin. Here was a man he could rely on to not throw him any bullshit, though Klaus always seemed to be absent when Septimus was in the most need of advice from a man with more political experience in the city.

Before the cyborg could say anything in return, Klaus proceeded to attach a name to the receptionist's face and then did something extraordinary.

He fixed her face. Or rather, he fixed the condition which ailed her and which set an unhappy look on said face. If there was anything that could be said to be magical - and truly magical, not merely the trick of the eye or a sleight of hand - this was one of those things. Something about it, such a simple gesture, sent a pang of awe through the representative's mind before he refocused himself with a quick shake of his head.

"How did you..." Septimus began, then stopped himself, "Chaos, right... Of course, Mr. Klaus, I don't mind. Greta, I'll take a photo of the list on the way out, if you don't mind."

Gesturing for Klaus to lead the way down the hall, Septimus kept himself close to the man and offered his response in a hushed tone, "What are we looking at situation-wise? I'm not quite sure if I'm walking into a rose garden or a field of explosives, to be frank. The Institute sidetracked me earlier with some offers; I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick looked askance at the knife Brit held as it glinted invitingly, wondering whether the previous day's incident was likely to reoccur. He didn't wish to be around if it did - or on her lap, for that matter, even though it was nice to be petted...
He considered jumping off, nosing her ankle for a moment to say, <Sorry, no offense meant->

But it would be offensive. It was a softish lap.

With wide blue eyes just peeping out from under a paw, the oval of fur gave a rather muffled reply. "Thanks, Willow, I'll probably do that..." <Sleepover!> He purred, head poking up. "Yes, that might work. Talking to her." Quickly, he squirmed so as to break the fragile connection with Willow. <Brit, please move your knife? I'm a little nervous about you and knives after yesterday, and it looks like something to chase (Image of the knife, looking quite like a plaything) - I know that's a bad idea, but instincts...>

[Giovenith]

"No problem, no problem at all," Willow reassured Nick with a kind voice and smile, but immediately shifted toward giving Brit a stern, deadpan look over the knife. He didn't say a word about it, but it was clear his expression screamed something along the lines of, Really? Really? You really gonna do that again? "Alright, yes, why don't we stop that now?"

Sensing an end to that topic, Willow carefully hopped up from his seat to his hooves, spun a circle to stretch a little, then faced his friends. "That's enough sadness for one day. Come now, we're all adults here, how about we paint the town?"

[Monfrox]

Brit was in the middle of switching from forward standard to forward reverse grip when she looked to her left at the two.

"Hmm?"

The knife slipped out of her grasp and fell onto the floor, a few feet to her right. She drew her hand back and looked at her finger. A small notch, maybe? Nothing happened for a few seconds until the blood came out from under a tiny patch of dead skin on the top of her right ring finger. She was part mortified, part angry as she smacked her hand onto her face.

"Medic...Cadet..." She growled to herself into her palm.

As if that was as clear an indication as ever, she gave up on solving the communications issue. Who was going to take her seriously when she can't not screw up for a full day? She put her other hand on her face to try and hide her shame and rage as crimson trail wound its way down the back of her hand. She knew now that no matter what, she would not learn. Not even the hard way. Perhaps it was better if she just stayed inside, and stayed away from sharp edges like paper and table corners too.

[Giovenith]

Taking a deep sigh and a subtle eyeroll, Willow dug around in the hammerspace side of his saddlebag and pulled out some bandaids. He flew over the human young woman and carefully lifted her hand to tend it.

"Bad cadet?" he questioned, focusing on her hand as he cleaned the blood trail. "I knew somepony who was once a cadet. She was a filly from an unfortunate background, she was very strong and very brave, but also had a lot of anger, and a good sense of justice. She had a friend at the academy who was wronged deeply by a bully there. So during a training race she slammed him into a cloud and fried his ass with level 6 lightning. He was alright, but he learned his lesson. The cadet also wound up causing several unauthorized chain reaction weather phenomena that wreaked havoc across the district and was kicked out into the academy on dishonorable charges. Her circumstances wouldn't allow her to go home, so for a while she found herself living on the streets, vandalizing willow tree parks out of frustration and defending herself with a pipe. She was a bad cadet..."

The pony finished cleaning off the blood trail with some tissues and applied a sunny orange bandaid to the cut, before smiling and bopping Brit's nose with his other hoof.

"And she grew up to be my mother. Believe me, I think you'll turn out to be just fine, Miss Firefly."

[Monfrox]

"That's only if I don't end up killing myself before that. I wasn't ever told that I was a bad cadet, except by those under me but they had personal problems and didn't want to follow even the simplest regulations. No seriously, how fucking hard is it to get a fucking haircut?!" Brit sighed to calm down a bit. "The "medic cadet" is a name for a cadet who gets injured and spends so much time at med bay that they might as well have signed up to be a medic. I've been dehydrated, exhausted, depressed, been stung, been bitten, cut, and even split my tooth, all in about two weeks of training. Granted the depression couldn't have been helped, but I was proud that I made it. Still, I guess that curse haunts me beyond that activity..."

She looked down at her finger. Well, while it was a relatively small cut, it was still bleeding a bit more profusely than she liked. Her hand started shaking and she felt a bit lightheaded.

[Fvaarniimar]

When the knife slipped, the cat skedaddled.  Maybe it wasn't very nice - not supporting someone who really had been encouraging...but the knife could easily have hurt him.  Perhaps he could be supportive from the other end of the room? Seating himself a little ways away, Nick continued to listen to the conversation. (He chuckled at the surprise ending to Willow's story.)

Idly, the cat wondered if Brit's 'medic cadet' status might be why she knew first aid...and then her casual terming of her issue as 'that curse' got him thinking. Maybe she was just putting it that way, but what if there was more to the situation - what if her catastrophic clumsiness was not entirely natural? It was a bit of a mystery, and... Well, they were fun reading and he'd enjoyed the detective work at that year's Carnival.

Nick's ears perked up as he resolved to discuss it with Sandy, or someone else who understood magic perhaps. After all, Sandy might be unavailable, they had just been discussing...He did not wish to go to the 'observatory' (maybe it could be safe but it wasn't home and he'd need to travel and what even was it?)

No reason he couldn't just send a message...no reason for a message to be needed! It was Brit's issue really. "All of these accidents...it seems too coincidental. Brit, you're going to see Sandy...Bela at the observatory? Ask him whether you are actually cursed."

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

The sisters stayed back and watched before Drova went off. Left to themselves, they decided that it was best to pick up the pace and get home more quickly. They didn't say much on the way, except for when they were just about home, coming back onto their home street.

Katya broke the awkward silence. "So, are you okay? You don't seem like yourself today, and I know that boy had to have upset you."

Maybe this time, she hoped, Torii would want to just talk about it. However, the girl simply shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. I think I'm just going to go find Tsu. I haven't seen her in a little while."

"Oh. Ah, okay then.", Katya mumbled. The damn girl was always so guarded around her. What was that all about? Her sister had gotten a lot more private recently.

When they entered the building once again, Torii went ahead, up to their apartment. Katya stayed back, and went to sit on the thinking bench.

Once home, Torii tossed her guitar onto the bed; she hadn't even gotten string for it in the end. She tossed her jacket aside as well, and climbed up onto the bed to reach over the top and slide her diary out. That boy was really creepy, and it didn't help her, being harassed after she was already really upset from the previous night. She had something she needed to do, and after a long time, too. She opened the book up halfway and pulled out the red envelope she'd kept for the last three years, put her diary up, and walked out of her apartment. She didn't know where her other friends were, but she wanted to have the envelope just in case. She also wanted to see FUBAR, and check on the clones at the Raptor house, but first she'd go find Tsu and see what she was up to. She didn't know where Drova had gone off to.

Katya stayed behind when they entered the building. She fell back onto the thinking bench and sighed. She was back to boredom.

"Hey ~! Toriii~!" Tsu waved at her ex down the hall, her wings also greeted the young girl by doing some odd movement, like they were attempting to save at her before they made a quick retreat and turned into a pair of skeletal wings that folded to fit inside the apartment halls. "How are ya~? We haven't talked in a while!" She said stopping only a few feet in front of Torii.

Tsu was in a simple attire for today, instead of her usually black shirt and skirt, she wore a long-sleeved shirt with a F-16 designed onto it and a long black skirt that covered her legs leaving only her shoes and socks visible.

[Torsiedelle]

"Yeah, we haven't.", Torii nodded. She hadn't seen Tsu in that outfit before. It looked cute.

"I'm doing fine, I guess. Well, not great, really, but I'm keeping together. I had a freaky run-in with some dude at a music store today, and then there's Drova, and - well, can I hang out for a bit? Is your big sister home?"

She held the red envelope she was carrying behind her. "Don't mind the letter. It's for someone else. I've had it for a really long time, and never really got it to them."

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Right as Torii mentioned Edge, Tsu's phome beeped with a text from Edge. Tsu nervously checked the phone, the text from Edge was about why the TV was broken. "Yeah..She's home..just for a text" she said with a sigh. "I broke the TV with a ice spear because I saw a mongoose on it, Edge will kill me."


Tsu smiled, and ruffled Torii's hair. "But sure! I don't mind you hanging out~!" She only paid some attention to the letter, but not much, if it was intended for her, she would of seen what's inside by now. "So, what do you want to do?"

[Torsiedelle]

"Oh, well, I don't really know.", Torii responded. She combed her hair with her fingers to straighten it back out and followed her friend. "I just wanted to talk, really, and maybe see what you were up to. I haven't really seen any of the others in a while.", She admitted. "Gio's always off with her adult friends, and so is Marcus, or they're together, and then I rarely see Yuna or Kale. I thought that we could find something to do.

She paused. "Wait, a mongoose? Why did you break your TV over that?"

[Swith Witherward]

The warm afternoon faded as the storm front moved in from the ocean, and Neste found herself sighing as the soft rustle of Autumn's earliest leaves melded with the soothing surf along the beach. She boarded a trolley to better savor the crisp air, rather than confine herself to a cab, and was soon deep within the Downtown district. The boulevard leading to the Rathaus bore storefronts festooned with the latest autumn fashions as well as cheerful Oktoberfest displays. This was her favorite time of year - the second spent out of her beloved Witherward - and her thoughts turned towards the promise of chilly nights and toasty fires.

She paused before a furniture shop to admire an overstuffed leather chair large enough for two. The clerks had draped an arm with a red and orange knit throw so plushy soft in appearance that Neste found herself craving the weight of it around her shoulders. A faux fireplace graced the wall beside the chair, and a sturdy antique table bore a heavy tome and a pair of reading glasses. The construct, as was her species' wont, made up a story on the spot. This was her chair and the fireplace very real, and she had come home from work to seek their solace. But the book and glasses were foreign. They belonged to someone else. There was always one of those in every construct dream, although in those dreams the faceless individual never appeared to greet them.

Not now! Goodness! This would be her first Autumn with Septimus! Neste's fingertips pressed against the window and chair momentarily vanished from view as her breath fogged the glass. The book was his, and he had only discarded the glasses in order to retrieve glasses of wine for them to share. They'd curl up in the chair, and she'd press her head against his chest to better cherish the soothing sound of his heartbeat. Perhaps he'd absentmindedly stroke her hair - or, being fall, she'd have her plumes soon - and tell her about his adventures in politics. It was a simple dream, but it was her own and, as she quickly reminded herself, it held the potential to become reality.

A clerk appeared in the window and offered a kindly wave to the her.

"How much?" Neste mouthed and pointed to the exquisite piece of furniture.

The clerk held up several fingers - not too many to make that chair unobtainable! - and Neste clapped her hands together in joy.

She emerged from the store a half hour later tucking the sales receipt into her handbag and smiling at the knowledge that the chair (and throw) would grace the cyborg's living room by suppertime. It was her gift to the man, a gesture of kindness in repayment of the euphoric colors he painted in her heart.

The air held the faint threat of a light rain as she bustled down the boulevard. Her shopping had put her behind, and their lunch might just end up an early dinner if she didn't apply a bit more diligence to keeping to a schedule. Her feet carried her up the steps leading to the government building just in time to collide with a man standing in front of the doors.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she intoned in her politest British accent. "I didn't see-"

But this was no ordinary man! Oh good heavens, no! Neste's eyes widened and then brimmed with tears as she beheld yet familiar face from the Dystan banquet. The hybrid had aged since they last parted, as had she, but there was no mistaking his kindly eyes nor the silly way his nostrils quivered when he was on his "best manners".

"Velocidoctor!" She swept him into a tight embrace, pressing her face against his neck to savor the odd, musty smell of her old friend. "Oh, Doctor, where have you been?"

The tears fell then, each one a happy tribute to his presence, as she pulled away to hold him at arm's length. "It's me! It's old Neste!"

She released him and used a palm to wipe the moisture from her face. A sputtering laugh burst from her smiling mouth and, for the second time that afternoon, she had a reason to clasp her hands against her chest. "I can't believe you're here! Oh, we have to find Brother Itum! He's here too! He'll want to see you so badly. Where's the Davenport? There isn't a moment to spare!"

Of course, being that the Doctor was a Time Lord, the moments were endless things that could be paused or even rewound and tucked away for a rainy day. She hiccuped and blotted the last tear from her cheek, then filled the air with vibrant laughter as she hugged her old friend again.

---

"Of course, Representative Itum," Greta's lips parted to reveal white teeth that, if one was quick enough to catch it, seemed oddly pointed in the molar region. "If I'm away from the desk, I'll leave it beside my monitor."

Klaus held his tongue until they were out of Greta's earshot, then tucked his hands into the small of his back. Jah, Septimus was about to hit the ground running. The question wasn't whether or not he had it in him to win the race. Rather, it was whether or not an angry mob would nip at his heels as he sprinted. "You're headed into an explosive rose garden, naturally. Pretty to behold, pretty to inhale, but the thorns are murder."

He paused beside the drinking fountain next to the security office door to better size up the man beside him. Very little escaped his Men's eyes and, although most of them were currently in Memorial Park, a few still kept tabs on the activities of certain individuals. It came as no surprise to Klaus that Septimus had been waylaid by the Raptors. Indeed, he had expected it to happen sooner. Still, the confirmation didn't sit well with him.

"Septimus, may I be frank? Of course not. I'm Max," he rumbled in good humor, as was his custom. "Kidding aside, you need to be wary of the raptors in general. Their intentions are self-serving. If rumors are true, they're forming an unholy alliance with the Luxans. Oh, some of them are alright. I fancy Aegis' zeal. But the Baron's waters are treacherous to tread, and you must do so lightly and with both eyes wide open."

His twinkling blue eyes drifted to better appreciate the cyborg's strange ocular implant. "Even technology can betray you if it's been corrupted by Cthulhu's happy minions. Of course, if they planted anything on you, regardless of spell or size, it's now gone."

And thus it was so, because that's how Klaus' insanity magic rolled.

"I'm not here to discuss the raptors or Luxans, however," he continued warmly. "It's my understanding that you want to go forward with your public works project. I'd like to make a request."

His arms crossed as he considered the best way to phrase it. He couldn't be certain of how Septimus viewed some of his fellow Residents, but first impressions were often worst impressions. Perhaps he could help shift them to something better?

"Are you familiar with Miss Katya? She's one of the grumpy gusses that was embittered by your decision to run. I'd like you to overlook her silly attitude for a time. She's a solid person, and dependable. I think she would serve well as a person to spearhead the park project. She's a little spoiled rich girl, and a pain in the ass at times due to her youth, but she has the makings of a good politician once she matures into adulthood. Rather than see someone so young fostered by poor examples, I'd like it if she was given the opportunity to learn from a master such as yourself."

He paused again. There was no delicate way to put it, was there? Of course not. "The walls have ears, Septimus, and the tents reveal many things. Katya has the potential to be a great leader, but she also has insecurities that, if preyed upon by the wrong people, could push her into becoming a monster. I don't want to see her tumble down that path. Not her. She's had enough pain and disappointment in her life. She's finally come out of that shell, and realized that she doesn't need a man to complete her. Now she's poised to take flight. Encourage her to soar by providing a bit of loft to those tender wings. I honestly can't think of a better person for that park."

A weathered hand stroked the stubble gracing his chin as Klaus considered what he'd just said. "But don't coddle her. Real life is rough. She needs to learn to roll with the punches, and to do so with grace rather than with a sour expression and unflattering murmurs tumbling from her drawn lips."

[Swith Witherward]

"I think that's got it!" Roger Brisby straightened up to survey the propane patio heater he'd hauled from the Leaf and Kettle's cellar. Its polished copper base glinted in the afternoon sunlight, winking back at the man that had spent the better part of the day trying to reassemble it. There was no mistaking the scent of autumn in the air; the heater would be put to good use later that evening.

A simple, autumn colored fabric tablecloth snapped in his wife's hands, billowing out in a gentle wave before gently falling upon the table beneath it. Margaret stepped back to check her work, and then freckled hands tugged here and there to coax it into looking more presentable. Satisfied with her work, she pushed in the last folding chairs and cast a fond look towards her husband. "That's the last one, Roger, dear. I can't say I'll be happy to see the summer go, but this is the stepping stone before the big holiday season. Oktoberfest is right around that corner, and then winter will bring Christmas to us."

He joined her near the shop's front door, wrapping an arm around her tiny waist to pull her into his side. His lips brushed her temple and she blushed despite the decades of marriage shared between them. There was no place he'd rather spend the holidays than right here beside her. Together, they looked over the outside patio area, and both sighed in unison.

"We had some Oolong come in this afternoon," Margaret tipped her chin and winked at Roger. "Why don't I make you a cuppa? You've had a busy day."

The man's smile broadened. Dear woman, always knowing his cravings before they even hit! "I have a few scones that didn't make it into the display case. Business is light. Why don't we enjoy some sunshine before the rain hits?"

"Oh, do you think it will?" Her brows fretfully knitted. The rains back home in London were familiar and sweet. Bielefeld's clouds seemed to have only two settings: light and deluge.

"My knees say so, so sorry, Love," he offered in reply, and then released her.

The pair retreated into their shop and emerged again a short time later, he with his paper and she with her book, and a tea set and treats to share between them.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

"Oh, well, I don't really know.", Torii responded. She combed her hair with her fingers to straighten it back out and followed her friend. "I just wanted to talk, really, and maybe see what you were up to. I haven't really seen any of the others in a while.", She admitted. "Gio's always off with her adult friends, and so is Marcus, or they're together, and then I rarely see Yuna or Kale. I thought that we could find something to do.

She paused. "Wait, a mongoose? Why did you break your TV over that?"

"Yeah I know how it feels, only true friends I ever had was my sisters till I came back here..still not sure if I still have much friends here..." Tsu started to drifybo drift off before hearing Torii's question about the TV, her eyes quickly scanned the halls for any other residents, she then took a very serious expression on her face before leaning close to Torii. "What I'm about to tell you..you must not let anyone else know..."

Tsu stopped leaning and stood straight up. "I. Tsuyoi Tamashi..Busujima....I'm.." She started to strudder, her face turning red and the sound of a tiny brain boiling could be heard, she took a deep breath and in a quick response said. "IM TERRIFIED OF MONGOOSES!"

[Torsiedelle]

Torii chuckled. "No need to be so dramatic. Anyways, really? Mongooses? That's kind of silly. Then again, who am I to say anything? Fireflies freak me out.", She snorted. "Well, I'm not terrified of dragonflies, but they are pretty freaky when they get big. Bastards should've went extinct back when they grew to be five feet long."

"Don't worry, though, I won't tell anyone. And yeah, I feel that way right now. That's why I wanted to hang out. Well, that, and I wanted to ask you something. What would you say if a boy told you he liked you? I mean, I don't know how to react to that...not that a boy does like me, but it's a weird question I was asked, and, well, it's confusing."

.........

More bright smoke drifted across Jasmine's apartment, being carried by the breezy air that cooled the place just to her liking. Hookah's were fun, and sure tasted better than cigarettes. Damn the cost, she thought. It was a classy way to do it, too, although not one she often indulged in. Too much smoking was bad for one's health. She could just see the TV in her living room, and could just hear it, so she wasn't too bored, just sitting their either. She'd have to leave sometime, though, to go outside again.

There was one place that she hadn't checked in some time. Her tea was still good, but she always liked to keep it fresh. She'd go down the street and see what was going on with the old couple.

And so Jasmine finished up and made sure that everything was safe before she left her apartment, making sure that no wild fire would come up. She avoided the elevator, since the stairs offered a workout, and quickly reached the first floor. She cracked her knuckles, popped her back, and slipped out the doorway, taking no time in swinging around and waltzing down the sidewalk. It looked like rainy weather inbound. That was good, she thought. The rain was calming, and she didn't mind getting wet if it came down to it. She'd managed it much before.

She was a bit nervous, approaching the tea shop, but realized that she'd taken the effort to come that way, and so she'd be stupid in not going in. She cracked open the door and called out. "Hello?"

[Swith Witherward]

"Out back, dear!" Margaret's voice drifted from a door towards the back of the shop. It lead to the patio seating area where the older couple had retreated. A low fence surrounded it, giving them a bit of a street view while also allowing for chatting with passersby.

Margaret wiped the crumpet crumbs from her hands and rose to tend to their newcomer. With any luck, the young woman would decide to stay for a spell. She crossed the threshold and smiled brightly, glad to see Jasmine again.

"How are you getting on with that tea?" she asked, always eager to hear customer reviews. If the product wasn't pleasant, she'd remove it from the stock. Her fingers plucked an apron from the peg by the register, and she slipped it on.

[Giovenith]

Willow sucked in his cheeks. "Curse?"

The pony had a flashback to his older conversation with Primordial last fall. It'd at least partially surrounded their conflicting views on curses, mainly in that the Luxan believed in them and Willow didn't. Willow didn't believe in a lot of things. Curses, witches, ghosts, goblins, ghouls, astrology, bogeyman figures, conspiracy theories, love at first sight, the validity of fringe religions, reincarnation, tradition as an obligation, ouija boards, Sea Ponies, fortune telling, "the sins of the father," mystical notions of good and bad luck, possession, extraterrestrial visitation (at least in Equestria), the infallibility of the divine, etc., etc., etc., etc. Probably would have been even less had he not been from a dimension where magic, monsters, and gods were far more clearly a thing than on Earth.

So obviously he was a little skeptical when Nick mentioned the supposed source of Brit's misfortune. However, not wanting to condescend, he didn't outright say that the idea of a curse was ridiculous (as much as he'd like to).

"Well if we were to go, we'd have to get a ride," he said, frowning and tilting a head. "And given autumn is coming soon, I'm not sure how much sooner it will be till dark. I don't think we want to cross town at night."

[Torsiedelle]

Jasmine felt a little embarrassed, as she closed the door and jogged around the back, towards the fence. "The tea is just fine.", She said, hopping over the fence and giving a respectful nod. "I was actually just wanting to stop by and see what was going on, and perhaps have some. It's a nice day, in my book."

She stood there, not wanting to sit right away. "That is, unless you'd prefer some silence? If not, then I'd be happy to stay. The apartment building I live at is lively, but I don't get too involved there, so I'm usually bored."

[Swith Witherward]

"Nonsense!" Roger rose to greet the young lady. "We enjoy company."

He gestured to an empty chair while Margaret bustled into the kitchen to gather more tea things. Soon a steaming cup rested by Jasmine's elbow, and a scone sat on a plate in front of her.

"Oolong is the flavor of the day, on the house," Margaret poured more into Roger's cup and then topped off her own. "Now, we're out of all the gossip. How was your Zalgofest? I think half this town is still asleep, what with how slow business has been today. I was just saying to Roger that we should take up Klaus' request to cater a luncheon in the Building, just to keep our hands and minds busy."

"Good afternoon." Minerva paused beside the fence. A small babe was cradled in her arms, his fingers entwined in her red locks, fast asleep under an afternoon sun. "I thought I heard voices back here. Mind two more?"

"Not at all, Captain Blackwater," Roger fumbled with a cantankerous gate, rattling the wood as he fought with the latch. It eventually yielded to his demands, and Minerva settled at the table with Jasmine and the Brisbys.

"You look familiar," she smiled at the young woman as Roger found a high chair for the baby. "Jasmine, if I remember rightly? I don't know if you remember me. I was at the Resident's meeting."

[Torsiedelle]

"Yes, actually.", Jasmine nodded. "And you're Miss Blackwater? It was a memorable meeting. The Brisbys here were just discussing gossip, too.", She said. "Guess that can come about now. My zalgofest, if that's what it was called, was weird. I didn't really do much. Some other people were crazy, though. There was that one girl my age making out with Drova, that batty boy, and then there was that man terrorizing the woman right under me. I got out of there. I know enough to stay away from shady guys in parks at night.", She nodded. "How about you all?"

Jasmine graciously took the tea. Oolong was nice.

[Swith Witherward]

"The boy with the wings?" Minerva accepted a steaming cup from Roger before settling back in her chair. "He married Tora. I suppose it was sweet. We see a crop of Zalgofest marriages every time, but it's murder on the court system."

She smiled in gratitude as Margaret handed over a plated scone. "I suppose the hardest part is coming to and realizing that there might perhaps be actual feelings buried deep down, things that only come out because all inhibitions have been stripped away. Tell me, are they still married or did they elect to have it annulled?"

It was impossible to tell if the cultist was being silly or serious. She nibbled a corner of her scone and withdrew into silence.