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

[Primordial Luxa]

"The Baron does not accept uninvited visitors and the other one is unknown to me I am afraid." the man said "Until such time as the Baron requests you or your are invited in by a member of this coven I cannot allow you to enter." The doorman's satellites focused in on Arthur detecting several of the tell tale marks of the Luxans presences and higher reality upon him even though they were faint. He focused in on these details and was able to tell that yes it appeared Arthur had been within one hundred yards of a Luxan at some point in his life a very suspicious notion. "Wait here, I must ask the Baron a few questions." He closed the door and reactivated the various tarot corridor locks and trance angle bolts.

As he did so Arthur became aware of presence behind him which appeared to be the very quite form of Hollow who had tapped into the life web and taken on the powers of a tarantula. As such her entire skin was a mess of eyes and fur as her body tapped into to otherworldly biological forces. She looked at him with a spiders hungry eyes as well obvious finding him interesting.

Arthur frowned, but what could be expected from somebody else's minions. He waited at the door and soon noticed Hollow's presence, he turned to see her in an humanoid arachnid state. "My, what big eyes you have, and in such plentiful quantities as well." he quipped with a chuckle. Then in hindsight a Spiderman reference would have been much more fitting than Red Riding Hood. "Nice to meat you." He greeted with an extended claw. Although the typo was indistinguishable in speech, this was the first time the screw up was caused in higher dimensions rather than his own speech quirks which he greeted victims with.

The woman's features changed suddenly and drastically as her skin changed to look like the normal cross section of a human with transparent skin. It was in ths form that Arthur was able to notice several of her features seemed very familiar to Insidious's. The way she moved and her bodies proportions as well as some of her facial features. "A pleasure to meet you too" she said, he words would normal but the tone was laced with hunger which Arthur had merely implied. She extended a hand to shake his and as she did so she breathed deeply of his scent and eyed with a measured gaze. "I don't think I've ever eaten anything like you before" she said lazily as her skin suddenly shifted too a black, green and brown pattern of the anaconda while her entire body seemed to grow a bit longer and her grip suddenly tightened by a very small but noticeable fraction. Not enough to restrain the raptor but enough to be jarring.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Initially smiling in greeting at the approach of pegasus-man Sandy Bela, but then frowned at the question of Giovenith, remembering the cranky and hysterical girl back at the room. It wasn't really his place to be making any bad image of her.

"She wasn't feeling well, she just needed a little extra time in bed," Willow explained smoothly, trying to sound sympathetic. It wasn't really a lie, just an underdeveloped truth. "I'm bringing her back some soup later and filling her in on the meeting. I know she would have wanted to come otherwise, I believe it's just stress."

Sandy's smile disappeared under the weight of a worried face. "Not feeling well...?" Stress, huh? She seemed fine when she left our apartment. Does she have the bad habit of smiling until she breaks? Or she didn't want to make a bad situation worse, and keeping quiet wore her down? Or did the combined stresses of the day finally get to her?" After a long, awkward pause, Sandy finally said, "Well, I hope some soup and a good night's sleep makes her feel better." Sandy's expression moderated a bit, but he still might as well have been wearing a name tage saying "Hi, I'm... concerned!"

What of you, this hasn't been affecting you or Amanda negatively, hopefully not?"

Sandy sighed deeply, blowing out his cheeks. "It's been a hell of a day, but for me worse than Amanda. A stiff drink and a long shower, and she was happy as a clam. Well, she was until Itum showed how out touch he is on the main issue of the day. She was going to step in and rescue Itum, but Ocho beat her to it."

"Fortunately, you got Itum onto the right track, and Amanda looks happy again." Sandy craned his neck to look at her, and nodded in her direction. "She's up front, with Ocho, over on the side of the room."

"Say, what is your name?"

She blinked. "Um... Charlotte. Charlotte Noble... and if you look around enough," she grinned wryly, "you will find out that yes, I am dead..."

Sandy shook his head at Itum's question, then stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed at Nobel's answer. "He really shouldn't pin her down like-- Uh! My God, if the TV news picks that up, she's just put her head in a noose! That's going to freak out a lot of people, and some of them aren't very nice."

Amanda clapped her left hand over her mouth at Septimus' question and Charlotte's answer to prevent herself from exclaiming a string of invectives. Did that exchange just cost us the vote tomorrow? What are we saying now, 'equal rights for ghosts'? She looked up at Ocho's face, shaking her head slowly. Amanda lowered her hand slightly, and whispered to Ocho. "We may have to do some more damage control now. I don't think that will go over well outside our district."

As Amanda moved her hand, light caught the cat's eye in the ring Amanda was wearing, and glinted off the smaller stones surrounding it. Sandy was wearing a similar ring in place of his normal wedding band. Both rings were eye-catching, but not otherwise unusual.

Amanda turned back to the crowd, searching for that reporter Septimus was talking to earlier. Maybe they'd gotten lucky, and she'd left the room already.

[The BranRiech]

"Yes it has been long time." Thriller asked as he moved the chair out from the way to sit on the ground next to Bran, after all those chairs seem small and not sturdy enough to hold a few tons of metal.

Thriller looked back at Katya then back at Bran with it tilted, "Though now that you brought it up, what happened between you and Katya? An argument or something? Curious cause I wanna see if I can help a little."

"No helping that." Bran shook his head.

"Nah, so I assume you know what's been happening, right? People are getting up in arms over the Abhumans of Bielefeld. There was a terror attack against a bunch of schoolkids, and people are blaming the Abhumans." He explained, shifting in his chair somewhat. With a slight tilt of his head, his neck cracked slightly, though it was barely audible over the questions and other comments by the crowd.

"And now the government seems to be siding against the Abhumans as well, so we're trying to get a candidate in the government to represent the Abhumans."

Nodding, Bran decided to wrap up his explanation.

"And Katya's apparently been being negative about the whole thing." Bran shrugged, meeting Thriller's eyes. "I knew her sister had some beef against Abhumans, but I guess it runs in the family for whatever reason, they just don't like people who are different I guess." He finished on a whisper.

[Germanic Templars]

"Yes it has been long time." Thriller asked as he moved the chair out from the way to sit on the ground next to Bran, after all those chairs seem small and not sturdy enough to hold a few tons of metal.

Thriller looked back at Katya then back at Bran with it tilted, "Though now that you brought it up, what happened between you and Katya? An argument or something? Curious cause I wanna see if I can help a little."

"No helping that." Bran shook his head.

"Nah, so I assume you know what's been happening, right? People are getting up in arms over the Abhumans of Bielefeld. There was a terror attack against a bunch of schoolkids, and people are blaming the Abhumans." He explained, shifting in his chair somewhat. With a slight tilt of his head, his neck cracked slightly, though it was barely audible over the questions and other comments by the crowd.

"And now the government seems to be siding against the Abhumans as well, so we're trying to get a candidate in the government to represent the Abhumans."

Nodding, Bran decided to wrap up his explanation.

"And Katya's apparently been being negative about the whole thing." Bran shrugged, meeting Thriller's eyes. "I knew her sister had some beef against Abhumans, but I guess it runs in the family for whatever reason, they just don't like people who are different I guess." He finished on a whisper.

"So assholes galore then? Fantastic." Thriller groaned as he sat down on his knees. He fixed his eye on Septimus, taking mental notes on him while whispering to Bran to avoid any unwanted attention, "Government being pressured as well by the issues and forced to take a side rather than trying to continue a neutral standpoint and help out both parties. Heh, weak leadership." Thriller looked down at Bran, "Surprised the city didn't burn itself down the few weeks I was gone from it."

"Now, for Katya.... She might be in the same boat as Max if she dislikes abhumans... Assuming abhumans are the equivalent of metas. Cause our medical system labels people on different levels based on features both physical, mental, emotional, and genomic."

[Giovenith]

"Yeah, that's the idea," Willow half-sighed, seeming to consider something briefly.

The mini pegasus was only two years older than Giovenith, but spending any degree of time of him would easily reveal that he acted at least a few years more mature at least most of the time; meaning that although he was certainly was no parental figure, there was a sense of protection and responsibility for her that supervened what might otherwise amount to common roommate obnoxiousness. Putting aside those troublesome thoughts for a more appropriate time though, Willow gestured up at the direction Sandy had pointed out.

"I'm glad to help in little ways, but I think its clear that your wife is the most tenacious of us all," he complimented. "We'll need that in the Times to come. As for the ghost deal..." The artist gave pause. He admittedly had never been all that inclined to believe in phantoms, but then he once hadn't been inclined to believe in hairless, bipedal primates either. "She may need protection," he frowned. "Nothing of her to be ashamed of, but death has always been an easy target. How do you think we... balance it out?"

It was sad to think that some types of abhumans were considered "risky publicity" for reasons not entirely laid out in common logic, but no one said any of this would be easy.

[The BranRiech]

"So assholes galore then? Fantastic." Thriller groaned as he sat down on his knees. He fixed his eye on Septimus, taking mental notes on him while whispering to Bran to avoid any unwanted attention, "Government being pressured as well by the issues and forced to take a side rather than trying to continue a neutral standpoint and help out both parties. Heh, weak leadership." Thriller looked down at Bran, "Surprised the city didn't burn itself down the few weeks I was gone from it."

"Now, for Katya.... She might be in the same boat as Max if she dislikes abhumans... Assuming abhumans are the equivalent of metas. Cause our medical system labels people on different levels based on features both physical, mental, emotional, and genomic."

"It's been fine, but a bit dangerous." Bran shrugged. He pulled his phone out and read a text from his wife, eyes scrolling over it, nodding in comfirmation. "And we were about to leave ourselves, up until just a moment ago." He smiled, holding his phone up to show Thriller the messages within. "We were going to go to the Branriech, because the city seemed to dangerous, but we just cancelled the flight. I figured that I live here too, and I can't run from inequality really, it's why I still believe in socialism." He shrugged, looking back up to Septimus. "Everyone deserves to be treated decently and equally."

[Northwest Slobovia]

"I'm glad to help in little ways, but I think its clear that your wife is the most tenacious of us all," he complimented. "We'll need that in the Times to come. As for the ghost deal..." The artist gave pause. He admittedly had never been all that inclined to believe in phantoms, but then he once hadn't been inclined to believe in hairless, bipedal primates either. "She may need protection," he frowned. "Nothing of her to be ashamed of, but death has always been an easy target. How do you think we... balance it out?"

"Yes, Amanda is very tenacious. She'll do her best for her clients... and now we're all her clients. She's not going to let this one go."

"Protection, yes, Charlotte will need that..." Sandy looked back in her direction, twisting up his face. "In the short term, explaining our situation to her may be enough. I've never seen her before, so she may be a new Residient, and may not understand what she needs protection from. In the longer term, I'm not sure how many people will be willing to help her. She needn't have drawn quite so much attention to herself. Amanda and I won't throw her to the wolves, but..."

Sandy paused, considering his words with some care. He leaned over to Willow, and spoke in the faintest whisper. "We're much more willing to help Giovenith... that is, if she wants it. If she does, that may be all the personal protection we can provide, and she was first in line." Sandy leaned away a little bit, the better to see what sort of reaction Willow had to that.

He resumed his previous conversational tone. "Offsetting being a... ghost, or spirit, or whatever Charlotte is will take some doing. Humans are both fearful of death and fascinated by it. Some people may simply react badly to her, but others may... be hopeful there is some sort of life after death, or want to know more about Charlotte's existence 'beyond the grave'. That's about the best I can think of off-hand."

[Germanic Templars]

"So assholes galore then? Fantastic." Thriller groaned as he sat down on his knees. He fixed his eye on Septimus, taking mental notes on him while whispering to Bran to avoid any unwanted attention, "Government being pressured as well by the issues and forced to take a side rather than trying to continue a neutral standpoint and help out both parties. Heh, weak leadership." Thriller looked down at Bran, "Surprised the city didn't burn itself down the few weeks I was gone from it."

"Now, for Katya.... She might be in the same boat as Max if she dislikes abhumans... Assuming abhumans are the equivalent of metas. Cause our medical system labels people on different levels based on features both physical, mental, emotional, and genomic."

"It's been fine, but a bit dangerous." Bran shrugged. He pulled his phone out and read a text from his wife, eyes scrolling over it, nodding in comfirmation. "And we were about to leave ourselves, up until just a moment ago." He smiled, holding his phone up to show Thriller the messages within. "We were going to go to the Branriech, because the city seemed to dangerous, but we just cancelled the flight. I figured that I live here too, and I can't run from inequality really, it's why I still believe in socialism." He shrugged, looking back up to Septimus. "Everyone deserves to be treated decently and equally."

Thriller moved in closer to see what was written on the tiny screen, but only to skim through the text, taking key words from it to summarize it before moving back. "I wouldn't blame you if you would have left; I know I did it to protect my people and prevent harm to them and my businesses, all which have been shut down til this thing blows over."

Thriller nodded as he looked at Septimus. "That is true, all deserve a fair chance at equality, golden rule. Though let me ask you this in a friend to friend manner: Do all deserve to be treated equally? Are some naturally better than others or naturally worse that others? Some born to serve while others born to rule? All start off equally, but in the end what separates the kings from the crowd? I am not talking about large scale as in species, more so in the terms of individuals, but I guess you could group in species under some circumstances."

[Giovenith]

The pony gave a short laugh at the offer. "You and about a hundred others, I'm sure. She has that affect on people, as I've witnessed first hand. Celestia forbid something happens, but if it did, I rest a little in the knowledge that a hundred heads would roll as a result." Something he was keen on pointing out to her once he got home. "But I am grateful regardless. Do what you will, if you wish to and are able, though I think we could all use protection by one another."

Willow considered the stranger Charlotte, quickly scanning his own thoughts toward death, which admittedly weren't very vast. Equestrians tended to focus on life, what with so much of it on your hooves when you wasted little time wondering about your guaranteed path to happiness, it permanently emblazoned on your hip from childhood. Honestly, Willow figured there was much about death he wouldn't be able to handle at this point; he was still young. But others? There was always a few people willing to open doors better left closed.

"I don't know where myth and reality end when it comes to ghosts," he said. "But if she keeps low and stays home, that might be enough. TV or not, it's still a big city."

[Fvaarniimar]

Kwa'a - still seated on Willow's other side - frowned. The girl they'd brought along was likely to receive less protection because... She was a little scary? Oh, she understood the reasoning. What was needed was good PR. Charlotte was not very good PR. On the other hand, she didn't seem like someone who had had the happiest life - or death. She had apparently been killed. This was a second chance for her; what right had anyone to deny it?

A second chance. Wasn't that what this was for Kwa'a, too? She was the absolute last person who should suggest a PR idea. That said... Sandy seemed to know his stuff. If...

"If this not is good idea a, don't use it. It - make it -" Kwa'a inhaled. "This place is second a chance for m-many. Maybe for Charlotte also? Show as that. Might...help balance scary spirit part."

As she'd spoken, the woman had thought of something else. "And Charlotte - if she needs, I can help protect. I..." I see something of myself in her. She's scared. "My priority is Rmwtyliin, ward, but if can I'll help."

[The BranRiech]

Thriller moved in closer to see what was written on the tiny screen, but only to skim through the text, taking key words from it to summarize it before moving back. "I wouldn't blame you if you would have left; I know I did it to protect my people and prevent harm to them and my businesses, all which have been shut down til this thing blows over."

Thriller nodded as he looked at Septimus. "That is true, all deserve a fair chance at equality, golden rule. Though let me ask you this in a friend to friend manner: Do all deserve to be treated equally? Are some naturally better than others or naturally worse that others? Some born to serve while others born to rule? All start off equally, but in the end what separates the kings from the crowd? I am not talking about large scale as in species, more so in the terms of individuals, but I guess you could group in species under some circumstances."

"Well, and now we're not even leaving. We're not going to let the violence dictate what we do, because I figure it's just what the people against the abhumans would want, for the mundanes to feel threatened." Bran said with a certain conviction to his voice as he wriggled his phone back into his pocket.

His tone carried over to his next words as he contemplated an answer to the question posed to him.

"And . . . Yes. Treating people differently is really human nature, but I mean, gotta' try, right?" He shook his head. The conscript shifted, pulling on the waist of his shirt for a moment. "Mmm, and no one's ever born to rule either, what about all the kings that plunged their countries into ruin? The people who should rule are the people who are the most qualified. And this isn't a jab at you either, you seem quite qualified." He chuckled, patting his friend on the shoulder.

[Germanic Templars]

Thriller moved in closer to see what was written on the tiny screen, but only to skim through the text, taking key words from it to summarize it before moving back. "I wouldn't blame you if you would have left; I know I did it to protect my people and prevent harm to them and my businesses, all which have been shut down til this thing blows over."

Thriller nodded as he looked at Septimus. "That is true, all deserve a fair chance at equality, golden rule. Though let me ask you this in a friend to friend manner: Do all deserve to be treated equally? Are some naturally better than others or naturally worse that others? Some born to serve while others born to rule? All start off equally, but in the end what separates the kings from the crowd? I am not talking about large scale as in species, more so in the terms of individuals, but I guess you could group in species under some circumstances."

"Well, and now we're not even leaving. We're not going to let the violence dictate what we do, because I figure it's just what the people against the abhumans would want, for the mundanes to feel threatened." Bran said with a certain conviction to his voice as he wriggled his phone back into his pocket.

His tone carried over to his next words as he contemplated an answer to the question posed to him.

"And . . . Yes. Treating people differently is really human nature, but I mean, gotta' try, right?" He shook his head. The conscript shifted, pulling on the waist of his shirt for a moment. "Mmm, and no one's ever born to rule either, what about all the kings that plunged their countries into ruin? The people who should rule are the people who are the most qualified. And this isn't a jab at you either, you seem quite qualified." He chuckled, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Thriller feighningly chuckled with his friend, but his tone quickly became serious as he spoke, "Maybe so, but you see Bran, the thing that separates the kings from the crowd is restraint and ambition. Ambition to achieve the levels of power to rule it all, but the restraint to prevent yourself from becoming mad from that power. That is why some fail to become kings and why kings fall into ruins. Also they do not pass knowledge and wisdom to their kids, more specifically the heir to their throne."

As serious as he was the brief moment, the mind of Cornelius Thriller, smirked as his somber tone rebounded back to a more cheerful tone "But that is just my philosophy from what I know, the same philosophy that got me in the mess and success I have today. From both the time it got my daughter killed to this time around where I was able to time travel and prevent it from happening as well as setting up events to lead me to sit right in this chair right here."

[The BranRiech]

Thriller feighningly chuckled with his friend, but his tone quickly became serious as he spoke, "Maybe so, but you see Bran, the thing that separates the kings from the crowd is restraint and ambition. Ambition to achieve the levels of power to rule it all, but the restraint to prevent yourself from becoming mad from that power. That is why some fail to become kings and why kings fall into ruins. Also they do not pass knowledge and wisdom to their kids, more specifically the heir to their throne."

As serious as he was the brief moment, the mind of Cornelius Thriller, smirked as his somber tone rebounded back to a more cheerful tone "But that is just my philosophy from what I know, the same philosophy that got me in the mess and success I have today. From both the time it got my daughter killed to this time around where I was able to time travel and prevent it from happening as well as setting up events to lead me to sit right in this chair right here."

"And well, yes, people are different. But I'd add a correction, what seperates a good king from the rest is restraint and ambition, but of course, not everyone is born like that, but there is no genetic trait that makes kings better than others." Bran shook his head, unwilling for a single second to believe that someone was fit to rule simply by being born into a certain family. The idea was preposterous to his mind. "Good leaders come and go even without monarchy."

[Germanic Templars]

Thriller feighningly chuckled with his friend, but his tone quickly became serious as he spoke, "Maybe so, but you see Bran, the thing that separates the kings from the crowd is restraint and ambition. Ambition to achieve the levels of power to rule it all, but the restraint to prevent yourself from becoming mad from that power. That is why some fail to become kings and why kings fall into ruins. Also they do not pass knowledge and wisdom to their kids, more specifically the heir to their throne."

As serious as he was the brief moment, the mind of Cornelius Thriller, smirked as his somber tone rebounded back to a more cheerful tone "But that is just my philosophy from what I know, the same philosophy that got me in the mess and success I have today. From both the time it got my daughter killed to this time around where I was able to time travel and prevent it from happening as well as setting up events to lead me to sit right in this chair right here."

"And well, yes, people are different. But I'd add a correction, what seperates a good king from the rest is restraint and ambition, but of course, not everyone is born like that, but there is no genetic trait that makes kings better than others." Bran shook his head, unwilling for a single second to believe that someone was fit to rule simply by being born into a certain family. The idea was preposterous to his mind. "Good leaders come and go even without monarchy."

"You are right, Bran. There is no genetic trait, but that goes back to ambition. I had an ambition, a goal to become a scientist and find some cures, those cures created revenue, that revenue opened more options for me, which landed my deals with some men in Europe, which then provided me the people and resources to leave Earth and stumble upon Gliese. And what started out as a basic terms to survive on our new home, turned out into uniting all in the galaxy as a means to end all wars. I know, I know, the egotistical emperor is talking about himself again, my bad." Thriller paused for a moment as to contemplate on his next choice of words.

"And you are also right about leaders, Bran. It doesn't take a monarchy, but doesn't take a dictatorship or democracy either, just simply a man or woman to take the reigns and lead with confidence, even when they do not know. They are humble when they are humiliated, they learn from their victories and mistakes as well as their enemies, they put the needs of others before their own, and most important of all: They never. Show. Fear. Look at George Washington, from his defeats he suffered from the French and Indian War to the early Revolutionary war, Valley Forge, he was hardly a tactical leader, but people looked to him for inspiration. He set the standards of what a real leader on both the battlefield and in power should follow, granted not all follow those standards today. Shameful really."

[Swith Witherward]

The town hall meeting slowly turned into pocket discussions although the excitement level was still high. Minerva stepped forward to end it while it was still on a lovely note.

"Thank you all for coming," she smiled from behind the podium. "We urge all citizens to vote tomorrow. NO on 13! Septimus Itum for Market District Representative!"

The conversation volume in the room exploded as people began to chat with those around them. Neighbors and Residents eventually departed in drips and drabs, heading towards their homes rather than to the clubs or bars. Curfew was curfew and few wanted to tangle with the curs enforcing it.

~
LE SKIP! BON JOUR A TOUS! REVEILLE-TOI!
~

Marcus stopped chewing his Cheerios and let the partially spit-soaked mass rest on his tongue. His ears and eyes locked onto the television screen. Channel 9's field reporter, Strauss, was covering yet another story. This time, he was a few streets down from Main, and Rachelle's elementary school served as a backdrop.

"... turnout at the last night's various rallies was high, but none so high as the rally held in the Market District where District Representative Elect Septimus Itum addressed business owners and citizens alike. Heavy on the forefront was Ballot Measure 13."

The scene cut to a prerecorded snippet of Septimus' speech. The podium was blocked by a digitally placed banner bearing his name and district location. His voice was muted in order for Strauss to set up the clip with a brief explanation, but then the sound was restored to give voice to the cyborg.

"The first step to repairing this bleeding is to repudiate the odious Measure 13, a measure designed to control abhuman activity under the pretense of protecting humans. All citizens of moral courageousness and standing should see right through this bill for what it is: an attempt to delude and control you. No security has ever been gained by oppressing a minority group; if anything this oppression is always used as a guise to heap restrictions upon the majority without their consent."

The recording skipped forward to present a more impassioned Septimus.

"We are free people and this is a free city! We will not be cowed by demagogues attempting to keep down the masses of people in this city who deserve a better life and a better lot! We will not be cowed by those who are afraid of brotherhood and who deny solidarity! We will not be cowed by the fearful, sheltered representatives who believe their freedom comes before our freedom! We will not be cowed! We will NOT be cowed! No to thirteen! No to thirteen! NO to thirteen!"

Voices took up the chant before the audio silenced.

"District Rep Elect Itum is backed by several civil rights organizations," Strauss' voiceover continued, "as well as prominent civil rights attorney Ocho Ono."

Marcus raised a brow. When did old Ocho become prominent? Spin, spin, spinnity spin! Ocho's face appeared on the screen (the digital banner displayed his name and occupation), and Marcus wondered how many mundanes were currently spitting out their coffee and tea and staring in horror at their television sets.

"We will not allow ourselves to be used as a tool to demonstrate the opposition's stance!" The massive alien cyborg was impressive, no doubt, and he reminded Marcus of civil rights preachermen from the US. His voice modulated sweetly, passionately, drawing out his words into a song rather than speech. "Raising a violent hand validates that backward stance and potentially kicks off a worldwide witch hunts. To that end, we WILL unite here in peaceful protest. We WILL make our stand here. We WILL vote to have a voice in government, and we will rally behind our District Representative, Septimus Itum. The world IS watching and we - xeno, supernatural, magical, mecha, gifted, obscure - WE will prove to the world that beings like us are just as entitled to civil rights and social status as the most mundane of mundanes. We are united and through unity we will persevere! We stand with our candidate! NO to 13!"

The crowd exploded anew with their chanting and then abruptly ceased as yet another clip of Septimus dominated the screen.

"Most of all, I want you to be kind to each other," the human cyborg implored. He stood in sharp contrast to the alien preacher, but his words held conviciton, "Every man and woman, pony and cyborg, every citizen and foreigner, everyone in this room is fighting a battle you might not know about. And I want you to think about that and let it influence how you treat them next time you see them on the street. Let's not talk about building bridges and then go back to our familiar ways. Let's actually build those bridges in all walks of our life and let's start doing it while we still have the chance."

Marcus thought it to be a clumsy splice, sort of jarring as it went from rabid chanting to sound reasoning. Meh. He wasn't a reporter. It was a miracle that Channel 9 had shown the clips at all.

Strauss' face returned and he offered information regarding the polling place before advising viewers that only registered citizens could vote. The segment returned to Mary the Anchor who pawned viewers off on Big Boobie Weather Girl with a promise of 13's supporters voicing their concerns after the commercial break. Marcus returned to his chewing. There was no news (yet) about yesterday's attack.


Outside Marcus' apartment, the world seemed to take on a festive edge. The Market District had awoken to the customary sounds of men unloading fresh fish. Sunlight slowly crept over the mountains as they went about their work, and its fresh light revealed the festive streamers and Bielefeld flags adorning lamp posts and businesses alike. People would fill Main Street soon. Early shoppers hoping to find the freshest fruits and vegetables would rub elbows with shopkeepers arriving to open their stores.

The Residents had all arrived safely at home the night prior. No one had been foolish enough to go wandering... because if they had, their handlers would awaken and bitch to high heaven over dead characters. And so it was that the Residents awoke to greet a new day. Election Day...

[Swith Witherward]

Neste fulfilled her orders by escorting Septimus back to the Building. Once safely inside and in front of his apartment door, and with her protection duty at an end, she allowed herself to relax. He had done a wonderful job in her opinion, and the human construct told him so before tenderly pressing her lips to his. She wouldn't stay however. The Underground needed her, and so she departed. Hours would pass before she was freed from Underground obligations. She eventually would return, of course, to slide a note under Septimus' door inviting him to an afternoon meal before they set out for campaign headquarters.

The sun was still hiding behind the mountains - much too early to wake anyone, but not too early to vote! - when Minerva awoke in her empty bed. Klaus had yet to come home from his mission. She would have breakfast and then head to the polling place, but not just yet. The cultist leader opted to savor the silence and cool sheets for just a while longer.

Nila, Buttons, and Scel worked through the night. Neste's apartment became a vacant wasteland. Every last thing in the lab - including FUBAR - had been spirited away. Nila departed at a quarter to six to cast her vote.

Rodney's customary seat in the lobby remained empty. The Nifid had gone out, although he could not vote. He wasn't a citizen. 8 AM came and he had yet to return. The cultist behind the desk thought this rather suspicious but he held his tongue.

[Charlia]

Charlotte was sitting in the lobby, still slightly haunted by the events of the meeting. People know now... and I... What will they do to me? I'm alone... so alone... She was almost crying. Everyone knows... I warned you, didn't I? But you didn't listen, because you're too stupid. Well, now you're going to have to deal with it. ... No answer now, huh? Idiot. You're pathetic. ... ... Is that all? Leave me alone.

[Highfort]

Septimus let out a sigh of relief as Neste's entrancing form retreated down the hallway for unspecified business. He thought it best not to pry - the more compartmentalized everything was, the better. If anyone was taken down, they wouldn't spoil the entire apparatus. Or so he figured, given his political experiences. Loose lips sank ships, and everyone had loose lips when they were pushed to their limits - whether pain or pleasure.

The warmth of the kiss they had just shared lingered on his lips and he pondered exactly what they were. There had been no official commencement of a relationship or any formal alteration of relationship status as was customary in the Confederation - people were hopelessly wired into the extranet and thus the premise of a "private affair" was hopeless unless one had the fortitude necessary to serve in the government's more clandestine services. On Terra, however, things seemed to progress far more fluidly and without formalities, and he found himself rather liking that.

Still, it did leave their relationship up for debate and, while he was weary and physically-exhausted, he did give it a cursory thought before turning said thoughts to a comfortable bed. Funny, it seemed like nearly a lifetime ago when he'd been spilling snot all over the apartment floor while the helpful lizard had cleaned him up and stopped him from dying. Now he was young, and the apartment felt alien once more.

A hand traced over the counter top. It was the same, but feeling it beneath fresh fingers gave it a different dimension. The same was true of the air, which he breathed in without a hitch and with a smile as he realized a filter was no longer necessary for his survival.

Sentia's absence was sorely noticed and the cyborg noted with a critical eye that her miniature bed cushion no longer held the indentation of her shape. He supposed she'd found herself a new home in the meantime - she would return as soon as word got out that he was back in the Building. She always did. And, in any case, he was glad that there was no toilet paper shortage to deal with and that the fridge and freezer had remained closed.

He figured he deserved a break for doing, at the very least, with little to go on, lukewarmly. Shedding his robes and leaving them on the bedroom carpet, he blacked out into dreamless sleep as he succumbed to tiredness and exhaustion. How the little lizard could still have time to go do whatever other work was required of her after the grueling evening that was the campaign meting, he had no idea. She was quite the miracle, in his opinion.

Awakening a little after dawn, as was natural, he spent his morning parsing through his memories and classifying them before wiping any excess data. The usual clean-up, in other words, before he began his day. Though the extended sleep he desired had eluded him, he found himself somewhat refreshed and proceeded with a light breakfast to wake himself up fully before leaving the apartment.

[Torsiedelle]

Katya's cuts weren't very straight.

The potatoes were a little burnt.

They were spicy, too. but that wasn't the issue.

"Are you okay?", Torii asked. She picked another chunk from the pan, taste-testing. Katya's eye was beginning to twitch now. She was in an even worse mood last night after Bran and Thriller did whatever. Men were assholes - go figure - but Katya was just feeling off. She drank a little when she got home, which was never a good sign, and then just crashed on the bed, still wearing her day clothes. It was a pretty poor sight. Torii was worried.

"I'm just not feeling too great, Torii.", Katya said, stirring their little breakfast around. She would normally have already piled the bacon on by now, and maybe some muffins, but she just wasn't feeling it today. Torii needed to cheer her up. Maybe is she could do something for someone else? Torii did plan to see her friends and ask them about some stuff, so maybe she could bring breakfast...

"Hey, what if you made a little extra? I was going to go see some friends, and I think they'd like this. They never get to see your breakfasts."

Katya thought about it. They hadn't tried it, had they? She perked up a little. "I'd like that. Okay then, let me grab some more potatoes."

......

Some time later, Torii was carrying a plate with a hearty helping of good fried potatoes. Katya was getting out of a quick shower, combing her hair, and the entire feel of the room was a bit brighter. "Thanks, Torii.", She said, examining her hair in their mirror. Torii giggled. When did her sister stop using her actual name? Well, chances were that she'd be back to calling her "Tora" outside. God, Tora, it sounded too nice, she thought.

Back to shorts and tanktop - it was too hot to be wearing that stuffy uniform with the shirt and the black boots. Torii had become accustomed to Bielefield weather, but Torii liked the cold. Well, that was her excuse, anyways. Indoors, Katya just slipped back into a clean outfit. She couldn't beat the skirt & blazer combo; that was her style, and it was comfortable, since she never left the building. Still, what would she do in it? She didn't think she was unwanted, but that feeling had been oppressing her since the rally...

"Going out! Love you!", Torii said as she stepped out, carrying her little plate of food. Katya waved back to her little sister and smiled, happy to see her going out to have fun. Once the door was closed, however, she put her head in her hands and sighed. What would she do?

Maybe she'd follow Torii. She didn't have many friends her age to hang out with, but her sister was only two years younger.

Torii wanted to see her friend, Gio, or Marcus, and her Pyersai friends as well. She remembered how Drova never came out. She'd save some potatoes for him. For now, however, she found herself standing near the doors of Gio and Marcus, feeling mighty awkward. Should she just knock? She didn't want to intrude. She didn't know what Marcus had going, and Gio had, like, fifty roommates.

[Germanic Templars]

Katya's cuts weren't very straight.

The potatoes were a little burnt.

They were spicy, too. but that wasn't the issue.

"Are you okay?", Torii asked. She picked another chunk from the pan, taste-testing. Katya's eye was beginning to twitch now. She was in an even worse mood last night after Bran and Thriller did whatever. Men were assholes - go figure - but Katya was just feeling off. She drank a little when she got home, which was never a good sign, and then just crashed on the bed, still wearing her day clothes. It was a pretty poor sight. Torii was worried.

"I'm just not feeling too great, Torii.", Katya said, stirring their little breakfast around. She would normally have already piled the bacon on by now, and maybe some muffins, but she just wasn't feeling it today. Torii needed to cheer her up. Maybe is she could do something for someone else? Torii did plan to see her friends and ask them about some stuff, so maybe she could bring breakfast...

"Hey, what if you made a little extra? I was going to go see some friends, and I think they'd like this. They never get to see your breakfasts."

Katya thought about it. They hadn't tried it, had they? She perked up a little. "I'd like that. Okay then, let me grab some more potatoes."

......

Some time later, Torii was carrying a plate with a hearty helping of good fried potatoes. Katya was getting out of a quick shower, combing her hair, and the entire feel of the room was a bit brighter. "Thanks, Torii.", She said, examining her hair in their mirror. Torii giggled. When did her sister stop using her actual name? Well, chances were that she'd be back to calling her "Tora" outside. God, Tora, it sounded too nice, she thought.

Back to shorts and tanktop - it was too hot to be wearing that stuffy uniform with the shirt and the black boots. Torii had become accustomed to Bielefield weather, but Torii liked the cold. Well, that was her excuse, anyways. Indoors, Katya just slipped back into a clean outfit. She couldn't beat the skirt & blazer combo; that was her style, and it was comfortable, since she never left the building. Still, what would she do in it? She didn't think she was unwanted, but that feeling had been oppressing her since the rally...

"Going out! Love you!", Torii said as she stepped out, carrying her little plate of food. Katya waved back to her little sister and smiled, happy to see her going out to have fun. Once the door was closed, however, she put her head in her hands and sighed. What would she do?

Maybe she'd follow Torii. She didn't have many friends her age to hang out with, but her sister was only two years younger.

Torii wanted to see her friend, Gio, or Marcus, and her Pyersai friends as well. She remembered how Drova never came out. She'd save some potatoes for him. For now, however, she found herself standing near the doors of Gio and Marcus, feeling mighty awkward. Should she just knock? She didn't want to intrude. She didn't know what Marcus had going, and Gio had, like, fifty roommates.

Thriller walked through the halls staring down at the tiny notebook in his hands which gave the room number he wrote down after the meeting last night on his way to the mech room. " 2F, 2F, 2F...... Where is it?" He continuously looked up and down from his notebook to the room number to make sure he didn't pass it.

At last, found the room. Thriller walked up to the door and knocked, hoping that someone was there, specifically Katya as to follow up on last night and get a take on her side of the story as well as drop by to say hi. He glanced down at his overall appearance, casual wear really. Flipflops, jeans and a white shirt to match the "plain as hell summer guy" outfit.

[Torsiedelle]

"Hmm? Oh?, Katya lifted her head, rubbing her eyes. Someone at the door? Shit, where were her mints?

After a few moments of silence, the door opened up, Katya standing to the side. She was surprised to see the man standing before her. "Mr. Thriller!", She said, "Good morning! I didn't expect a visit from you. Um, how can I help you?"

How could she? the man was a 6'5" emperor who fought wars, and she was just a skinny little woman who cooked and cleaned for her sister. It couldn't be a battle he wanted her for. Maybe he just wanted to stop by? That was probably it. Oh, the apartment was a mess, though...

"If you want to come in, please forgive the mess. We don't keep our apartment very tidy. Um, there's a chair by the window, or the kitchen counter, or the bed, I don't mind."

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

A cab drove up towards the apartment, once it arrived, a young woman that looked like she was 18, and had bluiesh short hair, with a mighty pale tail that flicked, like a larger versions of Tsu's wings, she was also shorter than Tsu, but surely smarter more by the looks of her white lab coat.

She walked towards the building and entered the lobby, her tail carrying her things and with a big smile, memories of this place rushed threw her mind. Both sad and happy ones told a part of important part of her life, that was now getting a squel. "This place... i missed it..im glad to be back..." She whispered as her tail put down her bags and whipped around it's host, giving her a big tight hug. "About time you get to see my old friend and favorite place on the planet to,buddy!"

[Giovenith]

"Time to get up."

"No."

"Yes."

Giovenith promptly had the point forced when Willow immediately nipped the back of her shirt and dragged her out of bed onto the carpet, ignoring her protests. He'd decided to let her alone through the night, but now that it was morning and voting day, it was time they have a little talk.

"Willow, what the heck?!" Giovenith tried to lightly push away the other artist, dandelion fuzzball that was her bedhead partially blocking her sight. "That's not nice!"

"Do you know what you missed yesterday?" Willow asked flat out, brushing the hair from her eyes. His tone wasn't angry or accusatory, but it did take on an authority.

"Why did you-"

"Do you know what you missed yesterday?"

The godling paused, figuring out that there was no straying from whatever subject Willow had chosen to bring up. She wasn't the same level of crabbiness she had been before, and still wasn't in the best of moods now, but had mellowed down to a point where she was willing to sit and listen. "Someone had a party downstairs?" she tried.

"When I came home, I had just come back from a public meeting about politics," Willow sideglanced her. "Apparently there's a bill on its way to vote today about legally restricting the rights to abhumans."

"What?"

"There was a lot of people against it, and our approved candidate Septimus spoke on it. We could have used you there."

Giovenith pressed her lips together and didn't say anything, eyes drooping downward to avoid communication while she was still unsure of how to respond. A hand ran through her hair, and she began to scooch away almost unconsciously before a hoof on her shoulder stopped her.

"You know for a fact that you are not the only one who is scared and frustrated at all of this," Willow moved to her side and sat down. "This is something we all have to get through together Geo-puzzle, you can't be hiding in here. There's already so many people who are set on protecting you, and you need to do your part to protect them."

"I know that." Giovenith pulled her knees to her chin. "That's not all what it's about..."

"I'm not going to defend what those sisters said, it was wrong," the pony continued, voice staying safe but sharp. "But Giovenith, if this is how you react to some bad comments made out of ignorance by a friend, how are you going to be able to survive the outright malice you know is coming from strangers? You need to be able to go on no matter what others say. We can be there for you, but you need to make the effort too, and you of all people should know that."

Not used to being the one lectured, at least not within the Apartment, Giovenith was feeling just a little bit cornered. It wasn't that Willow was wrong, but she was still frustrated at the experiences and not entirely ready to flip back. The thought of going back out and smile, smile, smiling all the way through like everyone was used to made her feel sickish, even if she knew it was what was needed.

"So you want me to just take it?" she asked, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

"No, I want you to keep being the tough little girl everypony knows you as," Willow patted her heart. "If people around you are messing up, sometimes all you can do is let them face whatever consequences may come on their own, it shouldn't effect what you know you have to do. It's not a fight worth the energy."

"But it makes me feel bad when I hear those things..."

"If it's really that much of an issue, say so. Don't lecture, don't yell, don't preach; speak up about how it makes you feel as an 'abhuman,' and if they really are keen on being your ally, they will listen and begin to adjust based on what you say. It's all you can do."
,
The teen sniffed and took a deep breath, absorbing her little pony's words and advice. She thought about all the troubles and adventures she had had here among the residents, of all the danger she had faced and those willing to stand between it and her. There were too many to count. This wasn't the craziest obstacle they'd ever faced, but it was the one that required the most social support, and it wouldn't be fair for her to hold back on that especially when she was getting older.

A brief flashback flew across her mind, of when she'd learned of three innocent old priests thrown into jail, and the clear heartbreak it'd caused the only boy she'd ever felt safe to love. They'd put their hearts in each other's hands, and they had to do everything to keep them safe. Then there was Minerva's family, and those innocent schoolkids, and the happy little citizens in the whole city who just wanted to have a nice life. It was now or too long, every moment of action or inaction now.

"Okay," she finally breathed. "You're right. I'm sorry Willow, I guess I was just overwhelmed. Do you think I messed anything up?" She looked guilty.

" 'Course not, Geo-puzzle," the abstract artist smiled and gently ruffled her hair. "It's just one bad night, you've got the rest of the day ahead. And what a day it is. I'm holding the charity show today, and you have your meal with the Belas. I don't think either of us are legal citizens, so we have to just hope for the best vote outcome..."

"Yeah..."

"Get ready for the day, I'm borrowing a sealed box and a hammerspace bag if you don't mind."

That done, the two brushed up, put aside the troubling issues of yesterday, and mozied along into the hallway to find their way toward the day. Willow was planning on making a few rounds in the Building to known artists to see if they had anything they'd like to contribute before setting up along with the rest of the festivities.Even if they didn't, him and Giovenith already had more than enough excessive pieces to sell.

"Willow?" Giovenith piped up as she walked with the flying equine, hands rested behind her head.

"Hm?"

"I have to say, you're abhuman too and seem to be taking this all the best out of all of us," she admitted.

"I suppose I've just always felt like an outsider here, so it's not as... jarring, if others view me the same way," the pony gave a good natured laugh. "Doesn't mean I still don't want respect for us, but I can definitely take it."

This shocked Giovenith. "Still an outsider? But you've been living here for two years already..." Her expression saddened. "Don't you like us...?"

"Oh, of course I like you guys!" Willow slightly panicked, eager to reassure the girl. "It's just, you know, no matter what my stay here is unexpected. I'll always be a shape that doesn't completely fit... I do walk on four legs and have more optimistic expectations after all. It's not a problem though, I'm doing it for the princesses, that makes it right and fine."

"Does it?"

"Of course."

"But wasn't it you..." Giovenith started. "Who said gods and followers need to be more considerate of personal choice? Did you choose to come here and stay?"

The pony had a moment of silence. "I said I would stay."

"But were you asked?"

For that he had no answer. But he didn't want to admit it. "I have work to do."

Before Giovenith could make him face the question, he'd already zipped away.

[Torsiedelle]

Should she knock? She wanted to knock, but what if she was still mad about yesterday? She wasn't at the rally, which was really weird. No, Torii thought, no use in holding back. Gio could handle it, and it was better to get everything out there than hold it all in and let it bubble.

Torii knocked on Giovenith's door. She felt nervous. Would her friend like their gift? Food always seemed to help.

.......

In the lobby, a female voice spoke in Charlotte's ear.

"Boo."

[Giovenith]

"Oooooooooo-OOP!" Pippa-Michelle greeted as she opened 2D's door to Torii. "Oatmeal!" She recognized Torii, and thus felt no threat, but wondered why she'd come to see her. Her two masters had since departed to the halls, missing the Torsidellan by a mere few minutes.