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

[Swith Witherward]

Neste's brow furrowed as she assessed Tavana's words. "I come from a painfully polite society. We apologize for the slightest offense because, once upon a time, we would take offense at the smallest things. Half the time, I needn't apologize at all, and the other half of the time I don't realize that an apology is due. It's terribly confusing. I'm still trying to grasp this whole socializing thing."

The cushion under her rump wasn't nearly soft enough and, for the briefest moment, she worried that her guest would find the floor equally too hard under her tailbone. Tavana's, that is; Neste's tail had been cast and wouldn't return until she molted, whereas she suspected the Klingon's was vestigial and firmly attached to her pelvis. Either way, the floor under their butts was too hard for Neste's liking.

"I'm not the only one of my kind here," she continued before sipping her tea. The lizard cringed as the bitter Lipton passed over her tongue. Septimus was right. It was a harsh brew. "Until recently, I was alone. We're a hive mind species, only this isn't my home dimension. The ones like me are not on the same, er... channel, for lack of a better definition. I have Scel - my exoskeleton - but the channel was empty until Nila showed up."

This didn't seem entirely true, at least not to Neste's subconscious. The niggling feeling plagued her like an eternal itch but the harder she searched her mind, the farther away from the memory she found herself. It was like chasing the echo of a missing tail. Neste shook her head at the frustrating nature of it all.

"I also have Brother Itum," Neste smiled at the thought of him. "You know him as SeT'is... Septimus. We have much in common despite coming from different cultures. He taught me that it was alright to be myself, to be confident and to laugh, and then gave me wonderful reasons to do so."




"I believe it is the cultural differences that make your Guild so effective in this situation. You are an absolute enigma," Minerva's smile practically took her ears. "We - Chaos - have no information about you. The USiPo likewise has nothing. All magic has a unique flavor to it. Your magic really has yet to be seen. What is it? Why is it? What can it do? What governs it? Is it more powerful than my magic or another pantheon's magic? These are the questions our enemy will ask. Their lack of answers, coupled with confused assumptions, puts you in a unique position. Until you use magic, they do not know you apart from any other citizen. They might be able to detect magical items on your person, but you - each of you - remains a mystery."

Minerva rose to join Alexia at the window. The view refreshed the cultist leader's eyes, and she found herself once again wishing she could spend time walking their gardens. It was a shame she hadn't paid respects sooner. She sighed and gently laid her hand upon the monk's arm.

"I fear the time is coming where we might be pressed into confinement. If Ocho's predictions this morning are correct, we'll find ourselves unable to enter the Building, or else removed from it. When that time comes, we won't need magic. We'll need people who are accustomed to working together as a group. We'll need unknown faces. People that can pass as mundanes. We'll need people outside the ghetto walls that serve as ears and eyes; we'll need people we can trust. How much better I would feel knowing those people possessed formidable magic and martial capabilities should they need to defend themselves. I don't think they'd need to. The USiPo lacks Fritz."

[The BranRiech]

Drova listened as Torii and Gio chatted on about stars, looking nonplussed. For reasons that should be easy to recognize for someone who'd grown up underground their entire lives, it was easy to realize that Drova wouldn't be too familiar with the shapes that formed in the sky. He would look up at night and see nothing but the individual stars, shining in their magnificent display of light, unhampered by the Human's need to associate everything with an animate form.

He stepped forward, perusing the items at the stand once more, before deciding that nothing there looked to be worth his money. "Hey, Torii, I think I'm going to go look over there, maybe find where they're selling jewelry or something. I think I might pick up a necklace." He informed his friend as she named off the constellations.

[Fvaarniimar]

"Uh... Thanks!" Religion was not terribly organized in Fvaarnimar, but she had heard that priests of religions were typically respected. Another bag - holding the blue dress (kids grew), a similar dress and several less similar dresses a size smaller, several saris, and two dresses Kwa'a's size - soon was added to those Rmwtyliin held. They walked on; nearby was a little booth selling colorful, kind of kitschy stuff, as well as some jewelry. Kwa'a almost skipped it, before spotting some t-shirts. Most of the slogans did not really seem right, but she did grab two 'I somehow ended up in Bielefeld and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'-s. Time to move on. They needed underwear, pants, watches... And, she saw, this booth sold the latter. She wasn't sure how much Rmwtyliin knew of clocks, let alone watches; nevertheless, they needed to buy the items in question. She could just grab one, but she did want the girl to actually wear the thing. Watches were, after all, useful.

"Rmwtyliin, you understand sundials. Correct?" A nod. Kwa'a had counted on that - Fvaarniimar was tropical, likely sunny enough so that not using them would be silly. "This is a watch. It tells time like a sundial does. It uses a confusing method to do it, but that method makes it really accurate. Most sundials tell you the time to...maybe the amount of time since we arrived at Zinko's. These? These tell you to the second, when you understand what they say. I don't suppose you understand base 60?"

The girl nodded, grinning before - "...Okay, maybe not that well."

Well, that had been a pleasant surprise. "Arabic numerals?"

"I know Roman ones?" Kwa'a held up a watch numbered 1 to 12. "Oh those - I think I saw something about them. They are common here." Maybe I need to work on those instead of vocabulary for awhile... That gave her an idea. "I think I should get one with the Ehrehbihk numerals. I need to understand this system and I think it would help." She grabbed one with a lime-and-teal wristband, embossed with a knot pattern.

"I think this would be better." Kwa'a held a stainless-steel watch, high enough quality to have a few extra dials. The selling point was however the numbering - both systems.

Rmwtyliin looked interested for a moment, and then cringed. Kwa'a looked closer - sure enough, one of the gauges had a red line. It didn't seem that they were going to find a watch with both number systems which would work unless they did a custom order; that would be expensive and would mean that they would need to wait some time for the watch. Definitely not optimal; she thought outside the box. What about combining the simpler ones?

She wasn't a jeweler (let alone a watchmaker) and had no intentions of trying to actually combine the watches, but... "Find two watches. One with Arabic numerals, the other with Roman." A watch meeting those criteria caught her eye. "And make sure the numbers go from one to twelve WITHOUT skipping - twelve numerals!"

Rmwtyllin held up a purplish digital watch. "I like this one!"

Kwa'a sighed. "I think you need to do the other kind, like these." She held up two analog watches. "I think you'll understand bet -"

Charlotte was rather difficult to miss. She also wasn't that far away. Sandy had told Kwa'a to give the girl his information... She quickly scribbled a note as the girls examined various watches and wares.

"Rmwtyliin, Elka. I'll return." Kwa'a ran towards the sobbing spirit. "Charlotte - okay you're?" Quickly, she handed her the note.

Sandy Bela, Apartmint 6C, wants talk. Can help, maybe. I'm in 9C if want.
Kwa'a

On second thought... She texted Sandy.

Found Sharlut. Crying. Gave apartment number. Want me to give her your phone number?

(Thanks to Autocorrect, she realized that she had been spelling 'apartment' wrong; she resolved to remember that it did not have an I.)

--

Maybe it is like with Giovenith. Maybe a time will come when I can help Charlotte...

I do not think now is that time. It would be better to focus on Elka, and on shopping.

"She probably knows what would work well." Rmwtyliin set the purple watch down. "Would you help me find some cute watches?" She drew out that last word. "Maybe after this we can check out more of the festival! I think it will be okay to go elsewhere if we can still see Kwa'a." Her first stop probably would be Kale, if they did that.

[Giovenith]

"Perseus, one of the Olympians' demigods," Giovenith corrected, trying on a pair of wacko bubble glasses next. "You know a lot though! Good for you Torii, cosmos and pretty stars are the best!"

Drova didn't seem all that interested, but that was okay, different people had different interests. Noting that, the teen gently took the fairy tales book from Kale's hands, looking down at the pages through her googly vision. "Ooooo, the handy work! What kind of things do you think they used to make these?"

Mentally, she wracked her mind for anything else to buy before the day was through. She wondered if Willow's suggestion to purchase pepperspray was at all doable in a tiny local festival like this, or if she could find some yacht varnish--turns out the stuff could waterproof papier-mâché, so obviously Giovenith wanted to look into giving an extra layer of protection to Pippa-Michelle.

[Warpspace]

He sat on a simple stone bench in a room consumed by shadow, stripped down to expose his back to the ministrations of his mate. Down his spine ran a series of metallic ports that fed directly into his spinal cord, with similar flanking ports buried through his alabaster flesh into the organs that lay below. Scars from the surgeries that rendered him in this posthuman state and those sustained from wounds in battle coated his back. Lumpy scar tissue encroaching on the delicate devices or spreading to the extra pair of shoulders to which a pair of daemonic wings were anchored. While the numb tissue did not directly interfere with his movement or interfacing with his plate, the scarred lumps were... uncomfortable. A remedy was sought and, as a psyker, a witch of the warp, it was one easily fixed by his mate. Her hands, miniscule in comparison to the size of her partner, rolled over his back while unleashing carefully timed jolts of electricity and pulses of sonic energy to break up the scar tissue. It was time consuming but effective, by her efforts the numbed stretches of flesh that once covered much of his body were being broken up and absorbed by his bloodstream.

Yet there was more to an Astartes than his physical composition, and things other than noisome tissue had put him at unease. His mate, in her wise ways, felt beyond the scarring under her fingertips. The muscles themselves, those massive coils that could propel a fist through a carapace or guide a hand to tenderly brush her cheek, spoke of tensions rooted in the very mind and soul of the Raptor seated before her.

She could see the world through his eyes, if he so chose to bless her with permission. She did not require his permission to view the burdens of his heart. The fingertips of her right hand brushed along his spine to come to rest on the thick trapezius muscle of his neck, and she leaned over to press her lips against its twin.

"Volturious?" her mouth blazed a sweet path along his neck as she murmured to him, "I grow restless here."

His earlobe found itself momentarily caught between her teeth. She caressed the tiny captive portion with the flat of her tongue - a promise of things to come later in the evening. For now, they'd settle for this small exchange, a blissful renewal of the bond they had forged between them. She ended the comforting gesture by softly nuzzling his temple.

"I hear the voices," she sighed. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss that pathetic little town. I miss those silly daemon hosts and their asinine antics. I miss seeing dinosaurs and hearing music in their park. You have accomplished so much here, but now I sense that I am called back there. You and I, and our children. I have walked beside you in glorious battle, and the universe has come to tremble at the very mention of your name, but the Warp sings differently now. It urges me to walk in shadow. I have a part to play. It is time for obfuscation. It is time."

Her gossamer gown rustled as she cautiously stepped over his feet and came to rest between his parted knees. Delicate hands sought the feel of powerful jaw, fingertips dancing along stubble. She cradled his head in her cupped palms and stepped closer to better see his features within her dim eyesight.

"Do you think me mad?" her elegant brows knitted together as she peered into his eyes. "Is it so wrong to want to step away from all this for a while, to walk the universe with my mate once again, to put Chapter and administration out of mind for a short while? I am called, but the thought of walking apart from you crushes me. You are the delight of my days and the music of my nights. Beloved, come with me. Dance to our god's music, and let us not pay heed to the daily burdens here. Slaanesh will see to it that all your hard work will not crumble while you are gone."

Volturius grunted in combined amusement and annoyance at her hyperbolic lauding. "You words are laced with unnecessary worship. Yes, I have burned worlds with the raw resources our liege gave me to forge into a fine blade. It cut deeply and swiftly into the heart of many systems and slaughtered countless billions who would shun the word of Chaos, of Slaa-Neth and the protective embrace the Gods offer for our race. Sectors tremble in fear of our passing, not the infinity of the universe and the enigmas it still hides from humanity. Were the universe to fear my existence, I would have displaced the Despoiler as Warmaster of Chaos and bear the marks of all four Gods of Chaos."

Volturius ended with a purring laugh of a predatory cat of his spiritual homeworld, disarming but simultaneously threatening like the hiss of a python.

"Truly your ways of physical seduction are sorely lacking if you are resorting to flattery to obtain your wishes. You need only ask for thy will to be done, not feed me ambrosia. Truthfully? The position of Chaos Lord is vastly overrated, although you shall never find me slipping such information in the company of my progenoid spawn. True I do occasionally land myself to exact righteous slaughter against the blind heretics of the Carrion Lord, but such wonderful, thrilling ventures are painfully few in occurrence. Too often I am demanded on the throne to manage the fleet, to tactically direct assault from a hololith than personally lead my host. They do not sadly advertise the logistical responsibilities of leading a warband of Chaos Astartes as much as the command of such power. For every bolt fired I must seek replacement from a manufactorum. From every slain Astartes I must see to the cultivation of his gene-seed and implantation in ten aspirants, of whom nine will likely die. For every fleet movement I must pursue new sources of plasma fuel. It is tedious and atrociously boring. I can seek entertainment from hunting and feasting upon the dying fears of prisoners in the bowels of the battle-barge, but such indulgences are not enough to release me from the ails of logistical management. A leave in absurdity incarnate could be used, if not outright enjoyed love."

Volturius painfully garbled the last word after all previous had rolled off his tongue in a smooth, serpentine manner. He was still not acclimatized to the usage of such emotional words like "dear", "love", "sweet", etc. They were always forced for him, and stung like acid to a maw better suited for ripping out the throat of a dying human than complimenting the petty emotions of the female gender. Still, it was a small sacrifice in the name of their relationship.

"Yes. Yeeess. A "vacation" as I believe they are named by mortal gutter scum, is called for. While I must inevitably return to the management of the warband for better or worse, I can at the very least pursue a temporary escape. Additionally with the advantage of warp travel, it will be like we never left to begin with."

++

Will looked haggard. Even his voice seemed stretched, and it was only through frequent sips of water that he was able to get through the briefing at all. An hour passed, and during that time Will was able to explain about the Drone weapon at the museum and the horror of discovering that innocent primary school children had been the victims. They drifted to the USiPo topic, and the dark circles ringing Will's eyes seemed to deepened while he lamented that nearly every last cultist serving in that branch of law enforcement had been replaced by unknown persons (although Hans was still in charge). He spoke of the assassination attempt on Fritz and Klaus, and of the Minister of Law and Order's narrow escape through their efforts. Finally, he touched upon the Unmentionables, the mercs and soldiers that had rallied to Klaus' need. Volturius would find a place on the team, were he desiring battle. Then the cultist spoke of Tipper's skills, and suggested she might assist Public Works. Though blind, she had other talents that might be of use, especially those pertaining to aesthetics.

"The problem is that the abhumans - or Extraordinary Beings, as they're now calling themselves - are under pressure," Will sighed as he returned his empty water glass to the tabletop. "Any violent action we take will prove to the world that abhumans are dangerous beasts to be hunted and put down. They hunt us the world over, Raptor. Bielefeld was our last place - the last place on earth where we had rights and could live unmolested. Now? Now the time is coming where we'll either need to leave her to go into hiding, or else work to change poor perceptions of us, and to oust the corruption. Our Pantheon has bowed out to keep its future plans concealed. The cultists and avatars that remain are there because they wish to be the change, and because this is home to them."

Will shook his head and topped off Volturious and Tipper's beverages before refilling his own. "I'm afraid you won't see Charumati. She's away, fighting a celestial war. She's given us her blessing to volunteer as individuals, but made it clear that we can not bring Chaos to light."

It was probably too much to take in for poor Tipper, but Will's concern was Volturius. The Astartes' mind could process much data quickly, but Will was asking him to do something completely against his nature - to remain at rest while all the world raged around him. It was undoubtedly distasteful to the Raptor, but it was equally distasteful to Will to have to impart it. This wasn't their way. This wasn't how Chaos operated.

"We'll send you both down in the SUV shuttle. It's familiar and has clearance already. You'll set down on the roof. Your quarters are still on the second floor. It's the first election day since the Drone invasion, so people are pretty festive at the moment. Just be careful at night. The USiPo can travel the shadows. They can take down gods and nation personifications. The halls have ears and eyes, and the only safe place is your own apartment. Loose lips sink ships."

Volturius laughed, a throaty chortle capable of shattering glass were he to raise it higher. This whole scenario reeked of absolute lunacy and, what he and all those of his time held in utmost disgust, weakness.

"You mistake me for my kin. I am not an Eater of Worlds, my ascendency was not from the flesh of the failure that was Horus, Warmaster of Chaos. I am Nostramon. This is not my fight, not my time- I hold no investment. Simply observing any future slaughter is more than enough to humor me- I care little for the fate of these twenty-first century mortals. They will not survive to see the End of Days. They are children blind to the fate of their distant spawn in the far removed future. It is not this brewing conflict I take issue with- but what led to it. You are weak. Your boot does not sit tightly enough on their necks, you let them squirm and attempt to free themselves under the illusion of possessing true power."

Volturius paused in speech, his obsidian eyes seemingly motionless as they flicked side-to-side, his eidetic memory drawing dusted thoughts forth from the bowels of his mind.

"As I have always understood- time is fixed. The future is unwritten unless of course it has already happened, which it has in our case. There are no records of what comes in the imminent future of this second millennium in the forty-first. You are weak host. Not in body, but in resolve- you would not commit to a fight that you hold interest in. There is more than enough time to conduct a ninety-nine percent purge of all human life in Terra without it having notable impact on future events. Indeed, according to how we understand time, if we take such an action it has already happened and passed without incident. You need not even worry about the greater portion of humanity learning about Chaos- a simple planetary nuking would resolve your petty issues. No records would survive the massive electrical surges, and most of the population would be exterminated by radiation clouds covering much of Terra for several centuries. No memory of our involvement would even survive. Well, except for Him, although he certainly doesn't appear keen on intervening. I am ashamed to be the genetic grandson of such cowardice."

Volturius gave a cold smile upon finishing, revealing much of his genetic legacy. There was nothing quite as murderous as the Night Haunter or his sons- the fanged grins of rapists, murderers, and thieves. It oozed with contempt for the weakness of man, yet looked almost charming had it not come from a face with a fanged maw and the black eyes of daemons from hell. It was the leer of a boy born to hate without comprehension of why. It was the murderous stare of a being that had just casually dropped the notion of genocide as if it were a mere comment on the weather.

[Charlia]

"Uh-huh."

Jasmine still wasn't impressed. She stared at Charlotte, scrutinizing. "And? Doesn't mean you have to be a moping child about it.", She said. "Who the hell gets nightmares from you? You ain't scary. You also ain't much of a freak, looking at the people in this place.", She added. "But you are right about being a coward."

She sighed and scowled at Charlotte. "Look, I don't know everything about you, but I don't think you have the right to be so melodramatic. I don't like people who cry and act like the world ain't fair, either. Buck up."

Charlotte was rather difficult to miss. She also wasn't that far away. Sandy had told Kwa'a to give the girl his information... She quickly scribbled a note as the girls examined various watches and wares.

"Rmwtyliin, Elka. I'll return." Kwa'a ran towards the sobbing spirit. "Charlotte - okay you're?" Quickly, she handed her the note.

Sandy Bela, Apartmint 6C, wants talk. Can help, maybe. I'm in 9C if want.
Kwa'a

On second thought... She texted Sandy.

Found Sharlut. Crying. Gave apartment number. Want me to give her your phone number?

(Thanks to Autocorrect, she realized that she had been spelling 'apartment' wrong; she resolved to remember that it did not have an I.)

Charlotte sighed at Jasmine's reproach. "I suppose so." Then Kwa'a gave her a note. Huh? Sandy Bela, apartment 6C... all right. She stood up, drying her eyes. "I've got to go. See you later!" She ran all the way back to the Building, finding her way to apartment 6C. She knocked on the door, hoping she wasn't interrupting anything important.

[Highfort]

Septimus nodded politely as Amanda broke down his performance piece by piece. He interjected to clarify whenever he felt necessary but otherwise let her offer her opinions; that was, of course, why he'd come here instead of seeking out Ocho or anyone else.

Responding to what the lawyer considered his "odd" choice of dress - the operative word being rather subjective and, he felt, somewhat ignorant - he replied, "Typical men's fashion from the Confederation is in fact the robes you saw me wearing last night and which you see me wearing today; the same is true of typical women's fashion. We're quite a practical people, I like to think, and styles beyond what you see before you are usually reserved for special events such as parties or weddings. The only thing that was distinguishing my political uniform from citizen robes are the missing patches I once had on my shoulders indicating membership and rank within the Board."

Her praise for his stump speech as well as his response to Willow's question concerning how the everyday citizen ought to pursue civil rights left him slightly flushed with pride, though it was tempered by humiliation at his failure to respond to exactly what Thirteen was when the son of Thaddeus had asked.

"Mr. Ono did well in saving me from that slip," he nodded in agreement, "I'll have to take him out for a well-earned drink some time, once things come down and this Thirteen business is blown out of the water. Otherwise, yes, we are on the same side. Unity promotes far more productivity and general social harmony than attempting to emphasize difference; variety is good, but it's not what you want to push when people are afraid of who's going to hurt them tomorrow. Better to assure them that everyone else is like them."

Sandy's unexpected arrival prompted Septimus to offer a polite hello and handshake as he added, "I was briefed that we have friends in the media, yes. Any little bit helps when trying to spread a message regarded as unpopular among the crass, smelly masses that constitute any city. Hopefully they can spin whatever happens today in a positive light; even if I do not win, the mere fact someone has run should be seen as a success by the abhumans of the city. Either way, they have spoken and it's up to everyone else if their voices are actually heard."

Realizing he had to get ready for Neste's invitation, the cyborg excused himself with curt nods at both Belas, "Please, forgive me, but I have other engagements to attend to. Amanda, thank you for having me and I apologize for anything I might have said in offense or in error. Sandy, pleased to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other very soon."

Departing with a wave and the distinct sound of clacking boots, he ran down the hallway and stairs to his apartment in order to freshen up before meeting Neste for what he assumed was not just a friendly dinner but a debriefing on the challenges facing the city. He wasn't quite sure who she worked for, but he figured that the less he knew, the better off she would be if things ever went south.

Rule #1 of the Confederation Politician: Only become intimately familiar with someone's schedule and life if you intend to see them off in a casket or an urn.

[Torsiedelle]

"I thought Perseus. Damn."

Torii felt pretty good about herself. "Back in my homeland, in the country, you can see the stars clearly at night. I always loved watching them, and reading astronomy books, and thinking about how cool it would be to go to other planets and galaxies and meet aliens and stuff. It seemed like a stupid fantasy at first."

She laughed and stepped away from the table. "But now I live in a place full of aliens, and we go to an amazing planets hundreds of light-years away every year. I mean, that's so cool, isn't it?"

"You don't like stars?", Torii asked Drova before he dipped off. Maybe it was because he lived in a cave?

"I wonder what kind of necklace Drova will buy.", She said. "I still have that necklace from Lidev, and a pearl bracelet from Yoshi, but I stopped wearing them a while ago. I still like to wear the hair ribbons Marcus gave me, though."

.......

Jasmine sat where she was for a few moment and mentally noted Charlotte: hyper-active drama girl. Well, it wasn't that bad, but Jasmine didn't like crying. Oh well...

She looked over at the other teens. Would they be cool? Well, they were, but she didn't want to intrude. Books weren't her thing, really, and the crowd...ugh. She was alone in a crowd again. Maybe she would just go off to the side, away from the group, and rest in peace, instead of going home to do it. That way, she could always be close by...

.........

Ah, alone in the lobby. This was nice, kind of. Well, it'd be better when Thriller showed up and came to go out on the town, but now Katya had a chance to just be one-on-one with Edge...

She stood there for about a minute as they waited, as Thriller when to go get his wallet, before she suddenly turned to the side. She grabbed the other woman and pulled her into a hug, and muttered, "I'm glad you came back.", Before lightly pushing her away and standing back where she was when the men left them there.

The next few minutes were rather awkward for her, until Thriller returned. Katya perked up; they could go now, right? Thriller was a cool person, and had the same idea as her, and Edge could use some time to see the city since she got back. She just hoped that Tsu would be okay. She'd tell Torii about the girl later, and maybe visit.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka looked at some of the shirts at the small booth. Really, the 'lousy T-shirt' angle? That was so generic you might as well have an 'I Heart Bielefeld' shirt as well. In fact, she was pretty sure she saw that too. She looked at the collection of watches, smiling lightly. She hadn't figured out how the hell non-digital clocks worked until she was twelve, but she digressed. She stood next to Rmwtylliin and looked the watches over. The Reil didn't need one, really. Her phone, amongst other things, had a time and date display on it... though she probably forgot to change the timezone. Briefly she took it out of her pocket and looked. 1 AM. "I'll, eh... fix that later." Elka muttered, feeling rather stupid about that.

"I'm kinda clueless about watches, but, uh..." She picked up a small, cheapish looking pocket watch. "This one is nice, I guess. We can go wherever. I'm just along for the ride, so, eh... whatever you want, Lin."

[Fvaarniimar]

The pocket watch was a glittery gold, which she liked. Otherwise... Not the same level of craftsmanship as some of the ones in the store, but it still seemed quite well-made. Of course, she was hardly an expert. It did have Roman numerals and Elka had picked it out... It probably would work.

Actually, she had seen no one wearing two of the things. If this watch went in a pocket, she could hide it when not in use; meanwhile one with the Erybyk numerals could go on her arm. That would make it harder for her to use the Roman numerals... Meaning that this would be how she checked to make sure she was reading the watch correctly, not how she told the time in general. Elka would see Rmwtyliin frowning for a good thirty seconds, forehead scrunching up at times, before -

"That will work perfectly! Thanks!" Now, to find one with Erybyk numerals. She sighed and started perusing the display. "Kwa'a said twelve numbers around the outside, right?" The pocket watch had twelve. It probably was.

--

Perhaps she ought to warn Sandy.

Gave Sh information. Running building towards - think going to you. Upset very - not know why.

Hitting send, Kwa'a walked back towards the girls in time to catch the tail end of her ward's question. "I did."

Rmwtyliin showed her the pocket watch. "Elka found this - I think it may work better than having two time-tellers both on my wrist."

Examining said watch, Kwa'a decided that, while she was not thrilled with the quality, it was a good idea. When Rmwtyliin understood the system they could get something nicer. Something like...This. It was one of the more expensive models. Digital, water resistant, nice features and quality, several colors, cute translucent strap, not too delicate-looking. She pulled a tangerine - not her favorite color, but it was fun, unusual, and looked nice with her coloring. It was nearly an order of magnitude cheaper, if she understood the currency correctly, than a similar watch would have been in Borksmiclen - so the fact that it cost half a Head was not a concern.

Elka was along partially to give opinions - and if Rmwtyliin had an issue with the watch, it would be best to know right then. "What do you two think?"

"That is a very nice time-teller." In fact Rmwtyliin rather wanted one herself - but, given firstly that the Bomic woman understood these devices better than did she and secondly that said woman was paying for the contraptions, she refrained from saying so. After a long enough pause for Elka to share any opinion which she might have, Rmwtyliin held up several watches. The first had a wristband in a dark brown very close to her hair's color, and black numbers and hands on a stainless steel face. It was $29.99. She had found it with the jewelry. The second had a simple white face and hunter green wristband. She liked that it was the color of the Corps - like a little bit of them was there, guarding her and helping her to be brave. It was $6. The third was $8.49; it was a bit bulky and almost uniformly a bright purple-pink. Normally the shade was too close to the color of grief to wear; she was in fact grieving. All of them had Arabic numerals 1-12. None of them contained a speck of red. Accepting that others would wear the hue differed greatly from wearing it herself!

"What do you think?"

Kwa'a shook her head at the first watch. "If you absolutely loved this I'd be willing to buy it, but you picked several; I don't think you do. I think that you should get one of these when you can easily read it." She brandished the tangerine timepiece. "This...I see this as probably being more temporary. So I would like something less expensive...the other two both are fine."

Rmwtyliin nodded. "Elka? What do you think?"

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka darted her eyes from side to side awkwardly, waiting for Rmwtyliin to stop frowning. She let out a sigh of relief when she finally said something. "I believe that's what she was getting at, anyways. I dunno. I usually elect to get a digital watch because it's easier to work with, at least for me."

The Reil looked over at the tangerine watch, tilting her head lightly. "It looks good. And matches your clothes, if you don't mind me saying." Now there was another one to look at. Even more watches. Watches here, and there, and everywhere. "If the second one is going to be a temporary thing, just go for the cheaper option, I suppose." Elka was just a fountain of wonderful advice.

[Germanic Templars]

Thriller smiled, giving a nod to Katya and Edge before setting off towards the stairs.

Upon entering his apartment room, Thriller switched on the lights. Everything still here, expect for family. He passively sighed as he headed to the bedroom. Everything was dark and cold with no real sign as if anyone has been there for a while, that or the AC was turned on and was forgotten about for the longest time.

A flick of a switch gave light and a bit of life to the room and a chance for Thriller to better remember on where he placed that damn pocket knife of his and his wallet, both are commodities he never needed to have for a long while, even while here in the city! Never-the-less, he walked over to the nightstand on his, or rather their side of the bed. Charumati seemed to have always won the battle for the bed in the middle of the night, something that still mystifies Thriller to this day on how such a small person be able to take over the bed, but there were times they made a peace agreement and shared the same side of the bed like to civilized people.

Thriller checked the wallet for the basic cards he needed before stuffing it in his right pocket. The knife, however, would be a bit difficult. the slim switchblade, which can be mistaken for a disposable box cutter, was anything but a box cutter. Thriller picked up the blade, pulling a lever with his thumb to exposed the three inched serrated tanto blade, capable of causing collateral damage to a person at close range if used properly. Thriller folded the blade up and hid it on the outer side of his right shoe, deep enough to where it was out of sight, but close enough for him to grab it.

Just before leaving he took one last look at the nightstand, staring at a picture of him and his family. The motivation in his life and the force behind his fight. A refreshing reminder to him before heading out of the apartment, closing the door behind him and forgetting about the damn lights again.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Realizing he had to get ready for Neste's invitation, the cyborg excused himself with curt nods at both Belas, "Please, forgive me, but I have other engagements to attend to. Amanda, thank you for having me and I apologize for anything I might have said in offense or in error. Sandy, pleased to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other very soon."

Departing with a wave and the distinct sound of clacking boots, he ran down the hallway and stairs to his apartment in order to freshen up before meeting Neste for what he assumed was not just a friendly dinner but a debriefing on the challenges facing the city.

The Belas watched Septimus' rapid departure and listened to his retreating boots slap the hallway floor until their apartment door clicked shut. Sandy turned to Amanda with a puzzled expression on his face. "'Hello, goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!'?"

She had her hands on her hips, and looked up at Sandy with annoyance. "He got what he wanted from me, so he left. But he's probably used to treating people like tools. Typical arrogance of power!"

"Oh? I caught the part about 'productivity through unity, especially for the smelly proles'. Did Blackwater bring us a fascist to go with our Nazi allies?"

Amanda nodded slowly, drawing out the start of her sentence. "Oooohhhh, yessss. He's an ex-oligarch of some interstellar empire. But no wizard though, and little sense of responsibility: he killed a bunch of people in a stupid cock-up, and he was kicked out due to the diplomatic fallout. I'll tell you all about it while we cook."

As the Belas were readying their kitchen for a rush of cooking, Sandy got a pair of messages on his phone:

Found Sharlut. Crying. Gave apartment number. Want me to give her your phone number?

Gave Sh information. Running building towards - think going to you. Upset very - not know why.

He puzzled out the messages, and warned Amanda, "We seem to have ghostly visitor coming soon: Charlotte. Wonderful timing, though. She'll just have to watch us cook." Sandy sent back a short reply: "Thanks for sending her. I think I know why."

A while later

She ran all the way back to the Building, finding her way to apartment 6C. She knocked on the door, hoping she wasn't interrupting anything important.

As Amanda opened the door, the aromas of cooking food wafted into the hallway: cooking meat, rich soup, something tomato-y. "Hello, Charlotte. I'm Amanda Bela. Sandy got a message saying we should expect you. Please, come in."

Amanda led Charlotte into their apartment, taking her through the living room and into the kitchen/dining room. "We've got lunch guests coming over, and we're in the middle of cooking, but you're free to stay and talk to us. She gestured towards the kitchen table, where a tall, metal stool had been placed on the side of the table nearest the range and the counters. All four burners of the range were occupied with simmering pots and heat radiated away from the oven. "Would you like something to drink?"

Sandy stood at one counter, forming long, thin loaves of bread on a baking tray. His hands were covered with flour, and he had a streak of it across his forehead. He turned and looked at Charlotte over his shoulder. "Hello, Charlotte. We were at the rally last night and heard your question. I think you might be here for advice or guidance. I can give you a little to start with: supernatural people like us aren't the most popular in the city right now. Please take that into account before using whatever supernatural abilities you have in public." Sandy smiled as he said it, but there was a certain grave seriousness to his voice.

[Mincaldenteans]

Neste's brow furrowed as she assessed Tavana's words. "I come from a painfully polite society. We apologize for the slightest offense because, once upon a time, we would take offense at the smallest things. Half the time, I needn't apologize at all, and the other half of the time I don't realize that an apology is due. It's terribly confusing. I'm still trying to grasp this whole socializing thing."

The cushion under her rump wasn't nearly soft enough and, for the briefest moment, she worried that her guest would find the floor equally too hard under her tailbone. Tavana's, that is; Neste's tail had been cast and wouldn't return until she molted, whereas she suspected the Klingon's was vestigial and firmly attached to her pelvis. Either way, the floor under their butts was too hard for Neste's liking.

"I'm not the only one of my kind here," she continued before sipping her tea. The lizard cringed as the bitter Lipton passed over her tongue. Septimus was right. It was a harsh brew. "Until recently, I was alone. We're a hive mind species, only this isn't my home dimension. The ones like me are not on the same, er... channel, for lack of a better definition. I have Scel - my exoskeleton - but the channel was empty until Nila showed up."

This didn't seem entirely true, at least not to Neste's subconscious. The niggling feeling plagued her like an eternal itch but the harder she searched her mind, the farther away from the memory she found herself. It was like chasing the echo of a missing tail. Neste shook her head at the frustrating nature of it all.

"I also have Brother Itum," Neste smiled at the thought of him. "You know him as SeT'is... Septimus. We have much in common despite coming from different cultures. He taught me that it was alright to be myself, to be confident and to laugh, and then gave me wonderful reasons to do so."

“We are of two extremes,” Tavana commented with a gentle yet crooked smile and set her teacup down. “There is too much worry upon another’s feelings. It is draining; you would spend much time trying to not offend them rather than getting to know the person as they are. Do you not find that vexing?”

Feeling as though she had to demonstrate her point, Tavana looked down at her plate. There, she picked up her biscuit, careful not to stain her leather gauntlets, and took a bite of the sweet and starchy piece. The biscuit would do for an example.

“This,” she tapped a finger at the biscuit’s edge as she chewed on, “this is not ideal for my preference to raw food, but you are the host and I can only be grateful for what you can provide. The same can be said if the situation reversed, no? There is no apology for it; the gesture, bid, in friendship is given and that is more important.”

Still with the biscuit in her hand, Tavana spread her arms to encompass the table they both shared, “Were I quiet and unresponsive, everything I do would be taken as a reaction to a slight you never committed. How do account for that?”

Lowering her arms, she brought her biscuit back and placed the half eaten mass back onto it’s saucer. “It is impossible, it is much too difficult. I say live simply, confide with those you call your friends without apology or hesitation. They must accept you as you have them. As equals. And if they cannot then it is their lost – not yours.

“SeT’is, not much a warrior, I admit,” Tavana said with a light smirk, “but he has heart. Such ferocity can only mean that there is much to learn about him, and from him. Although I suppose the targ made that questionable for a moment,” Tavana eyes glimmered with humor as she recalled the attempt to tame the filthy beast. Although Tavana distinctively remembered being disappointed and highly critical of the outcome, her younger self now couldn’t help but find the attempt by the human as endearing.

“Mezran has a targling for him as well,” Tavana said with a wider grin, “He said it would be good to keep one at SeT’Is side, to keep him on guard and toughen him.”

"I believe it is the cultural differences that make your Guild so effective in this situation. You are an absolute enigma," Minerva's smile practically took her ears. "We - Chaos - have no information about you. The USiPo likewise has nothing. All magic has a unique flavor to it. Your magic really has yet to be seen. What is it? Why is it? What can it do? What governs it? Is it more powerful than my magic or another pantheon's magic? These are the questions our enemy will ask. Their lack of answers, coupled with confused assumptions, puts you in a unique position. Until you use magic, they do not know you apart from any other citizen. They might be able to detect magical items on your person, but you - each of you - remains a mystery."

Minerva rose to join Alexia at the window. The view refreshed the cultist leader's eyes, and she found herself once again wishing she could spend time walking their gardens. It was a shame she hadn't paid respects sooner. She sighed and gently laid her hand upon the monk's arm.

"I fear the time is coming where we might be pressed into confinement. If Ocho's predictions this morning are correct, we'll find ourselves unable to enter the Building, or else removed from it. When that time comes, we won't need magic. We'll need people who are accustomed to working together as a group. We'll need unknown faces. People that can pass as mundanes. We'll need people outside the ghetto walls that serve as ears and eyes; we'll need people we can trust. How much better I would feel knowing those people possessed formidable magic and martial capabilities should they need to defend themselves. I don't think they'd need to. The USiPo lacks Fritz."

The touch would have been some comfort, like she had done for many as a healer, but the gravity of the situation Minerva had expressed drew little relief from the simple act. If Minerva and her Lads were soon to be curtailed, it only meant a narrower window of time for Alexia her guild to act. “I see,” was all she could muster.

“We must act quickly then,” Anais said from behind them as she rose from her chair and pulled the blanket from its chair to wrap around her once more. The warmth it provided was a welcome feel, and so was a purpose that could distract her from her fatigue. She joined the two near the window.

“Cherry has been outside more than any of us, however short a time, and is somewhat familiar with the way people are dressed and carry themselves. We can blend in easily of course, unfortunately, our outfits set us apart. We will need a simple plan, new clothes and equipment… I’m not sure how well we’ll do without our weapons, but we’ll need them eventually. The most powerful among us would kill himself after a few spells without his tools. We can be the eyes and ears, but danger has its merits to be prepared.”

“I’d have to agree on that,” Alexia said with a nod. “We’re not defenseless but we are limited. I don’t think the city at large would take kindly to swords, focii, and staves standing out but having them at the ready would be better than nothing at all.”

Alexia wasn’t sure how far ‘we’ went in terms of confinement or removal, but the guild leader was willing hazard a guess it meant everyone, “If we’re to be confined or removed from the building, then it’s best we move what we can outside to a safe zone. It wouldn’t be large, its purpose would be caches, weapon stores, supplies, even emergency (and temporary) shelters. That sort of thing. It may stretch us but it wouldn’t compromise an entire network with one strike.”

Alexia glanced at their surroundings, “We were told the Building keeps all within its walls safe. We can always return to it, but others won’t be as fortunate… when do we start?”

[Fvaarniimar]

After some further deliberation, Rmwtyliin decided on the hunter green watch. Among other things, it did not scream for attention; at the present moment, the Fvaarniimarn felt that that would be an asset. Kwa'a quickly paid, and pulled out her phone to set the watches. As she was doing so, it buzzed, and a notification appeared. Quickly finishing, she replied.

Glad to help. If anything else I can do - tell.

She sent it, and helped Rmwtyliin put on the watches correctly.

"Well, girls, I think that's it for now; you can go. I want to meet you..." Looking for a landmark, the personification spotted Mab's clearing. It would work - she pointed. "Next to that area where it looks like it's still winter. Twenty-five minutes from now. Rmwtyliin, that will be when..." She looked at her watch. "The long moving center portion - called a hand - of medium length is a little away from touching the numeral which looks like this or this..." She scratched a 3 and an III in the dirt. "The really long one will touch it twenty-five times. The short one won't reach it during that period." Rmwtyliin frowned, trying to figure the thing out... "I will text you." Rmwtyliin was handed her phone. It went into a pocket opposite that holding the new watch. "This communication device will vibrate. When it does, see if your watches' hands point to three." Kwa'a walked away, heading for Willow's show.

The girl tugged Elka's sleeve, or hem. "I really do need to talk to Kale. You are welcome to come." With that, she walked towards the teen group. As she approached and spotted both people who had reassured her in those first terrifying hours and Kale, who she had enjoyed hanging out with, her face broke into a smile. "Hi! I have not seen some of you in some time! It is wonderful seeing you again!" She would not initiate a hug - bit presumptuous - but would gladly accept any given. (If Elka had chosen to follow, she would also introduce everyone whose name she actually knew.) And then she noticed that Giovenith was holding a book. "Excellent craftsmanship. This would be suitable as a gift to royalty." In fact, many items here would be, or so she thought.

--

The Bomic arrived rather quickly. Removing a Head (approximately $55 worth of gold, Bomic currency, similar in size to a dime but hemispherical) from her sack, she dropped it into Willow's donation box. After all... She was an ab. And a lot of blame for a lot of awful things rested on her shoulders. If only, if only... But today wasn't a day to get caught up in if only's. Today was a day to try to move forward. Maybe her contribution could contribute towards Bielefeld's attempts to do just that.

And perhaps buying a painting could help as well - it would also add something to the apartment. "Hello, Willow! Art?" She browsed.

[Charlia]

He puzzled out the messages, and warned Amanda, "We seem to have ghostly visitor coming soon: Charlotte. Wonderful timing, though. She'll just have to watch us cook." Sandy sent back a short reply: "Thanks for sending her. I think I know why."

A while later

She ran all the way back to the Building, finding her way to apartment 6C. She knocked on the door, hoping she wasn't interrupting anything important.

As Amanda opened the door, the aromas of cooking food wafted into the hallway: cooking meat, rich soup, something tomato-y. "Hello, Charlotte. I'm Amanda Bela. Sandy got a message saying we should expect you. Please, come in."

Amanda led Charlotte into their apartment, taking her through the living room and into the kitchen/dining room. "We've got lunch guests coming over, and we're in the middle of cooking, but you're free to stay and talk to us. She gestured towards the kitchen table, where a tall, metal stool had been placed on the side of the table nearest the range and the counters. All four burners of the range were occupied with simmering pots and heat radiated away from the oven. "Would you like something to drink?"

Sandy stood at one counter, forming long, thin loaves of bread on a baking tray. His hands were covered with flour, and he had a streak of it across his forehead. He turned and looked at Charlotte over his shoulder. "Hello, Charlotte. We were at the rally last night and heard your question. I think you might be here for advice or guidance. I can give you a little to start with: supernatural people like us aren't the most popular in the city right now. Please take that into account before using whatever supernatural abilities you have in public." Sandy smiled as he said it, but there was a certain grave seriousness to his voice.

Charlotte shook her head at Amanda's offer of a drink. "But thank you." Then she turned to Sandy. "Kwa'a told me you wanted to talk to me... ah, yes, my question. I hope I haven't caused any trouble..." She looked concerned. "I don't want anyone else to suffer. But don't worry about me using my powers; I rarely do anyway." Was that all he wanted to tell me? Idiot, of course not. Shut up! "Was there... anything else?" She blinked back a tear that threatened to fall. Why the heck? Tears are so random sometimes. It's because you're pathetic. Well, technically, you're me, so that makes you pathetic too, O pessimistic side. ... Good. I finally got you to shut up.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka looked over at the clearing, and nodded, jumping once more after her sleeve was tugged. "Sure, I'll just keep heading along. You know these people better than I do, obviously." The Reil smiled, and nodded as politely as she could to these strangers, looking around. They seemed a nice group. "Heya. Nice little... operation of sorts you've got going here." Smooth like a kitten. Like a drunken, blind kitten stumbling off a cliff, rather.

[The BranRiech]

Trawling around the place, Drova didn't exactly know what drew himself to stop, but one of the stands in particular interested him. He'd gone past a few little setups since leaving his group of friends, but nothing interested him too much, or at least, enough to stop and look. The Prince didn't feel bothered to stop at this one either, but something simply pulled him in. Maybe it was the simple designs of the jewelry, or maybe it was the welcoming face of the older woman manning the stand.

"Good day." Drova nodded in greeting, walking up to the stand, his shoes crunching the smooth blades of grass. He stopped about a foot from the shelves and displays, looking them over with a keen eye, helped even more by the addition of his glasses, clearing up the normally fuzzy vision of a Pyersai.

He'd nearly passed over everything in the selection (Presumably all handmade) until he stopped again, eyes focusing in on something truly special. He settled on a small pendant, about the size of a quarter, with an exquisitely painted mosaic of the Bielefeld night sky, almost a perfect recreation of looking up at night. In Drova's eyes, it captured perfectly the feeling of looking up at the natural light show, and it was well worth the 30 dollars he forked over for it, plus another 5 for a simple chain to keep it on.

He fumbled around for but a moment, before he clasped the necklace around his slim neck, letting the rest hang down, but with the pendant still visible, the metal frame sat cold against his dark skin.

"Mmm, thank you kindly." He smiled in to the woman, in return for providing him with such a find as he walked back to join his friends, his wallet still laden with a couple more bills of various denomination.

[The Carlisle]

Kale shrugged. She didn't know. The book didn't feel that old. Usual hardcover material and paper. But the artwork was exquisite. It was obvious print, but print or not, someone created these wonderful works of art. "I don't know. The style is so pretty though. They fit perfectly in fairy tales," she said, opening a page to one of them to look again, "Whoever drew all these was very talented.

She looked back up to see Drova wandering back. She instantly noticed what was different about him. "Oooh! That's a pretty pendant!" Kale said, wandering over to the boy. She looked more intently at the design when she got closer. "So pretty..." she said, then remembering what she had. "Oh! Look what I got!" she said, pointing to her necklace," Isn't it pretty?" She giggled a bit at that.

[Northwest Slobovia]

[S]he turned to Sandy. "Kwa'a told me you wanted to talk to me... ah, yes, my question. I hope I haven't caused any trouble..." She looked concerned. "I don't want anyone else to suffer. But don't worry about me using my powers; I rarely do anyway." Was that all he wanted to tell me? Idiot, of course not. Shut up! "Was there... anything else?" She blinked back a tear that threatened to fall.

Ah, teens are so hard to figure out sometimes. I'm going to chalk that tear up to teenage angst. "Yes, of course, but just a second..." Sandy turned back to his bread, slitting the tops of the small loves, and then painting them with the contents of a bowl sitting on the counter. He picked up the baking sheet, Amanda opened the oven for him, and he slid the tray in. "OK, done for the moment." Sandy turned to face Charlotte, leaning against the counter behind him. Amanda went back to stirring her simmering pots.

"Yes, right... Ok, it's good you're careful with your abilities. But, um, well... many of us use our abilities to get out of trouble. I've done so many times before. I'm a sorcerer, by the way, I know a few moderaterly useful spells." Amanda smiled at Sandy's joke as she tasted some sort of soup with a large, wooden spoon. She held the spoon out, apparently waiting for Sandy to taste it, but he went on. "But here, there's a police force that keeps an eye on supernaturals. They're formally called 'USiPo' -- um, a German acronym -- but because some of them aren't loyal to the government any more and hunt for us supers, some people call them 'the Gestapo'."

"Whatever you can do, doing it outside might get their attention, and they may be worse than whatever you were in trouble with in the first place. But I'll admit I don't know a lot about them." Sandy finally noticed the spoon Amanda was offering him, took a taste, savored the soup, and enthusiastically nodded his head.

"But lest that all sound too bad, in here -- the Building -- you're safe. A lot of us Residents are supernaturals, and you'll fit right in. Even in this neighborhood, the Market District, people might not care too much if you... well, whatever you do. And, within reason, you can ask Amanda and I for advice about getting along here."

[Charlia]

[S]he turned to Sandy. "Kwa'a told me you wanted to talk to me... ah, yes, my question. I hope I haven't caused any trouble..." She looked concerned. "I don't want anyone else to suffer. But don't worry about me using my powers; I rarely do anyway." Was that all he wanted to tell me? Idiot, of course not. Shut up! "Was there... anything else?" She blinked back a tear that threatened to fall.

Ah, teens are so hard to figure out sometimes. I'm going to chalk that tear up to teenage angst. "Yes, of course, but just a second..." Sandy turned back to his bread, slitting the tops of the small loves, and then painting them with the contents of a bowl sitting on the counter. He picked up the baking sheet, Amanda opened the oven for him, and he slid the tray in. "OK, done for the moment." Sandy turned to face Charlotte, leaning against the counter behind him. Amanda went back to stirring her simmering pots.

"Yes, right... Ok, it's good you're careful with your abilities. But, um, well... many of us use our abilities to get out of trouble. I've done so many times before. I'm a sorcerer, by the way, I know a few moderaterly useful spells." Amanda smiled at Sandy's joke as she tasted some sort of soup with a large, wooden spoon. She held the spoon out, apparently waiting for Sandy to taste it, but he went on. "But here, there's a police force that keeps an eye on supernaturals. They're formally called 'USiPo' -- um, a German acronym -- but because some of them aren't loyal to the government any more and hunt for us supers, some people call them 'the Gestapo'."

"Whatever you can do, doing it outside might get their attention, and they may be worse than whatever you were in trouble with in the first place. But I'll admit I don't know a lot about them." Sandy finally noticed the spoon Amanda was offering him, took a taste, savored the soup, and enthusiastically nodded his head.

"But lest that all sound too bad, in here -- the Building -- you're safe. A lot of us Residents are supernaturals, and you'll fit right in. Even in this neighborhood, the Market District, people might not care too much if you... well, whatever you do. And, within reason, you can ask Amanda and I for advice about getting along here."

"Okay..." She tilted her head. "A police force? For us? ...I knew there was discrimination, but that's..." Unusual? No. Normal's more like it. You're so cynical! "Anyway. I'll be sure to be careful. Thank you for your help and offer of advice." She opened the door to leave, and then turned around briefly to flash a smile. "It's very kind of you to help me. If you ever need my help--although why you would need my help I can't imagine--let me know."

[Northwest Slobovia]

"It's very kind of you to help me. If you ever need my help--although why you would need my help I can't imagine--let me know."

Sandy smiled back at her. "You never know... though it might help if we knew what you could do." He added a wink to his smile. "But you could let the door fall closed before answering, or maybe even come back closer to talk." Sandy gestured towards the stool where Charlotte was just sitting. "We've still got a bit of time to talk." Kids these days, so flighty!

Amanda looked up from the range to glance the kitchen clock at, then looked over at Charlotte. "Yes, plenty of time. Don't feel like you need to leave immediately. This will all keep." She waved her hand in the direction of the range and oven to encompass all that the Belas were cooking, then apparently had a thought, turned down all the burners, and set lids on the pots.

[Charlia]

"It's very kind of you to help me. If you ever need my help--although why you would need my help I can't imagine--let me know."

Sandy smiled back at her. "You never know... though it might help if we knew what you could do." He added a wink to his smile. "But you could let the door fall closed before answering, or maybe even come back closer to talk." Sandy gestured towards the stool where Charlotte was just sitting. "We've still got a bit of time to talk." Kids these days, so flighty!

Amanda looked up from the range to glance the kitchen clock at, then looked over at Charlotte. "Yes, plenty of time. Don't feel like you need to leave immediately. This will all keep." She waved her hand in the direction of the range and oven to encompass all that the Belas were cooking, then apparently had a thought, turned down all the burners, and set lids on the pots.

She closed the door. "All right..." She walked back over towards them, but she didn't sit down. She rose into the air, a few feet off the ground. "This is what I can do." But the voice came from nowhere, for she had vanished. When she reappeared, she put her hand directly through the stool, and then settled down on it. "But then, I suppose, it's not that impressive. I don't have enough power to do anything more. Some like me can fly, or possess people, or so on... but I have a hard enough time hovering. So much power was used to tie me to your plane when I wanted to escape it so badly... I didn't have enough left over for any really unusual powers."

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

[quote="Torsiedelle";p="25077653"]
Ah, alone in the lobby. This was nice, kind of. Well, it'd be better when Thriller showed up and came to go out on the town, but now Katya had a chance to just be one-on-one with Edge...

She stood there for about a minute as they waited, as Thriller when to go get his wallet, before she suddenly turned to the side. She grabbed the other woman and pulled her into a hug, and muttered, "I'm glad you came back.", Before lightly pushing her away and standing back where she was when the men left them there.

The next few minutes were rather awkward for her, until Thriller returned. Katya perked up; they could go now, right? Thriller was a cool person, and had the same idea as her, and Edge could use some time to see the city since she got back. She just hoped that Tsu would be okay. She'd tell Torii about the girl later, and maybe visit./quote]
Edge's face flustered red for the few seconds of that hug, than it quickly disappeared. "Yeah...i missed this place." Edge rubbed a wall with a smile. "Its not always cold...But i kinda of miss making snowman..did you know, back in my nation, there is a field with tons and tons of snow statues in it? They've been there for like years, everyone is amazed by how they barely changed sense they were made."

Edge than stood there in awkward silence, she had nothing else to say, her face expressed that she couldn't think of anything else to say, and she just stared at Katya, she had a poker face. The song poker face started playing over and over, the same lyric "p-p-p-poker face,p-p-p-p poker face" kept playing over and over, as she tried to think of anything to say. "So...um...what do you want to talk about?.."

[Northwest Slobovia]

"So much power was used to tie me to your plane when I wanted to escape it so badly... I didn't have enough left over for any really unusual powers."

Sandy watched Charlotte's demonstration closely, holding his chin in his right hand as he did so. "That's quite unusual." He thought for a second, rubbing his cheek with a finger and leaving flour marks behind on his chin and cheek. "And possibly very useful for some things... and maybe very helpful, too. Hm. I'd really like to see that again, but I shouldn't ask people to perform tricks like they were circus animals."

Amanda tilted her head a bit and caught Sandy's eye. She glanced back and forth between his face and Charlotte's, silently asking if Charlotte was using magic. Sandy shook his head minutely for no, and her eyes went wide. Well, I'll be damned! She's actually bound here by her grief, like the stories say! Sandy should definitely not ask to see that again! Wait... 'escape'? Oh... She turned to Sandy and firmly said, "No dear, you shouldn't." Softening her voice, she spoke to Charlotte. "But you should feel free to ask us if you need anything, or just want to talk."

Could ghosts just talk it out? Didn't they need to get revenge, find true love, or finish whatever they were trying to do? Too bad Remy isn't here; a necromancer of his power would doubtless know how to help her. Sandy had mentioned going back to our world to seek our remaining allies when he was a bit better trained. Maybe it would be a good time to bring that up again after she leaves.