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

[The BranRiech]

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.

Still a little ways out from the rest of their friends, Drova stopped as one of his friends actually came to him. He smiled at the diminutive plant-girl that had stopped to admire his necklace, and he chuckled, but half-blushed. "Thanks, Kale. I got it right over there from that older woman." He pointed back to the stand in which he had bought the pendant from. "She said that it's the Bielefeld night sky, she painted it herself." He nodded. If Torii loved stars, maybe she'd like Drova's new necklace? He shrugged at his prospects, but was nonetheless happy with his purchase.

The Pyersai turned, and looked down at Kale's own necklace, shrugging. "Mmm? I think it's lovely." He gave her a questioning glance, but supportive nonetheless.

[Primordial Luxa]

"Yes, I help her with adjusting to this more chaotic world so to speak. Though off the books as a favor, but It is rude to go into the gritty details." Arthur explained and watched Brit take her first drink, without flopping around the bar like a fish. Hollow's ability to change at will intrigued his curiosity, although he lacked the biological expertise to fully understand it.

Hollow noticed Arthurs eyes staying on her skin. She was used to the occasional ogling glance but in her culture such things in moderation were acceptable. Especially when you biology was as warp as hers were. For a Luxan it wasn't uncommon for others to look very intensely at each other trying to detect and learn about each different modification and exotic detail. A Luxan who could look at her would be able to instantly tell that her birth was most likely a muddled process and heavily controlled. Her genome had all the tell tale marks of rebirth tampering and her skin was also tied to something deeper than just a cosmetic. "Just how chaotic is this world?" Hollow asked "Coming from you it must mean alot. Of course I doubt this place is anywhere near as strange as where I come from."

[Swith Witherward]

Many things in Neste’s life were vexing, and nearly all those things revolved around what she was and how others perceived her. She accepted her guest’s words. The Klingon was the only other individual, aside from Septimus, to urge her to see herself as an equal, but Neste doubted the woman would see her in the same light if she knew what the construct was. Thankfully, the woman gave Neste an easy out by shifting the conversation towards the cyborg.

“Brother Itum is no melee expert,” she groaned at the memories. “I really don’t think his people have much to do with blade weapons or pole arms. He’s skilled in many other ways but I was terrified I’d lose him that night in your hall. The universe sees fit to slap him around, you see, but he refuses to stay down. He’s very brave in that regard. Fierce, in my opinion.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

“I’ll let him know about the targling,” she nodded. “He’s supposed to meet me for lunch.”




Will held his tongue as Volturius spoke his peace, gracing the Astartes with a polite – yet plastic – smile as insults dropped from the Raptor's lips.

“You mistake me for a human,” the haggard cultist’s mouth widened to reveal the host’s pointy, white teeth. “And I’ll overlook your insults regarding my stamina and strength – this time - because I don’t feel like explaining to Minerva why your intestines are festooning the outside of this ship.”

Tipper turned her head to glare at the thin human sitting across from her mate. Her chin tipped until it seemed that she was staring at the ceiling, and the tight-lipped scowl gave way to a slack jawed gasp. Though she couldn’t physically see the man, her strange eyes could perceive the being.

“You are not Tzeentch, Volturius,” Will’s face remained fixed in the same gracious expression as he articulated the words, but the Keeper looming within him was not smiling at the couple. “You do not understand how time flows nor why the era we return to has so much impact on the era you come from. If I were you, I’d check my ego and remember my place. It’s never a good idea to piss off the entire pantheon.”

The psyker looked away to avoid becoming entangled between the two inflexible beings. “How soon until we arrive?”

“We already have,” Will’s smile flickered as he gestured towards the door. “Docking bay, if you please. One of the Lads will pilot the transport to the Building’s roof.”

She glanced at the pair once more, and discovered just the fuzzy blotches of the man and Astartes sitting at the table with her.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"This place is like a hub adjacent to many realities with many different rules. It is a wonder that something with violently hostile rules hasn't been drawn here, a thing which can corrode the rules of others. But one researcher I know hypothesizes that this place is a softer version of that, a rule set that softens out others so there won't be volatile reactions." Arthur tried to explain. An example came to mind Willow came from a place that was known to be incompatible to Raptorverse physics, with Raptors getting the short end of the stick. He would be a bit hesitant around the equine, not knowing if prolonged exposure would unravel him.

---

The door handle of Velocidoctor's apartment jiggled, calling his attention away from the mess of newspapers strewn about. He cautiously approached the door and spied through the peephole. What he found was Neil in a paper mask affixed to his snout with tape. "Housekeeping!" Neil said in a high pitched voice. "You aren't fooling anyone, now go away." the venerable raptor replied. "Well then, I guess you don't want to help the people of this fine city." Neil retorted with a snort that blew the mask off his face and onto the ground. "You're trying to push my buttons aren't you?" Velocidoctor stated flatly. Neil gave a sly smirk, "A little, but I think you will find what I have to say mutually beneficial." Neil teased.

Velocidoctor finally opened the door, figuring if Pilkington ordered a hit on him that it wouldn't be that subtle. "Make it quick." he asked, blocking the doorway with his body. "Well, as you've must have learned there is some tension between the monkeys and the not quite monkeys. They figure all of us are bad eggs, such foolish generalizations of such limited minds." Neil began as he shoved his way inside. "Throwing the babies out with the bathwater. But why would you care? You are the bathwater!" Velocidoctor accused with suspicion. "Quite right, couldn't care less about what they think. Although, my work has become... difficult and will become even more so if things continue the way they are." Neil explained as he looked over the newspapers scattered over the computer console.

"So if I help spread goodwill, you get to hide easier. Is that what you are getting at?" Velocidoctor deduced. "Yes, an offer you can't refuse. If you don't help the innocent will suffer, and you don't want that on your shoulders. Even if it doesn't work do you really thin Bielefeld will contain me or stop my mission? Of course not, it will just have to come into the light." Neil finished as he turned to leave. "I see you are really determined to tie my claws here. I'll do it for them, the people, the innocent. Just don't think I'll do it for you hypocrites nor that I've forgotten what you will do. Bielefeld may not be able to stop you, but I will before I let any harm befall this planet." Velocidoctor warned as he shut the door behind Neil.

[Fvaarniimar]

"Both of your necklaces are beautiful, I think. So is the book. I believe that it would delight my mother..." Maybe Rmwtyliin would see her again...she could get the book for her; a gift, just in case. She would hold onto it. It would remind her of her goal. Later, perhaps. She did not wish to take the money of the others, but Kwa'a was her guardian - and it seemed that she had a softer side. If the book was not extremely expensive Rmwtyliin likely could talk her into buying it.

Thinking about gifts reminded Rmwtyliin that she had had a reason other than chatting for joining the teens. After working out exactly what she would say, the girl took a deep breath and said it. (And then, of course, Duncan said it.) "Kale, I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with my contribution to this park?" She drew the nut which she had selected - plump, in-shell, and free of any visible defect - from her pouch. "This is an irka nut. They are edible seeds, native to Fvaarnimar. If we were there it would grow into a nice bush. No one can get them to grow outside Fvaarnimar; would you be willing to try?"

(Rmwtyliin did not know this, but the reason irkas refused to grow elsewhere was because they needed extremely specific conditions: temperatures frequently above about 60° F, humidity typically around 70%, frequent rainfall, and soil which was both slightly acidic and rich in specific elements, chiefly bismuth and nitrogen. Most of Fvaarnimar fit those requirements; few other places did, and with the tech levels of Rmwtyliin's time no one even understood half of the requirements, let alone how to identify which places met them.)

Rmwtyliin, continuing to page through the book, spotted a character which looked something like Elka. Oh no, Elka. Rmwtyliin had somewhat ignored her despite her being, by and large, Rmwtyliin's guest; she hoped that the girl did not feel too offended at being left out. Well, she could remedy that; she stopped at an illustration of a woman - based on the intricacy of the dress, a queen or princess - who wore a gown incorporating a gauzy blue fabric. Showing it to Elka, she said, "I wonder if the fabric we got will look like that on you?"

[Torsiedelle]

"Well, I don't think we'll need to find something to talk about, now that Thriller is back.", katya smiled. She welcomed the Emperor back with a respectful nod and waved towards the door. "Better not waste any time, no? We have the majority of the day, still, and it's summer, so we can stay out longer."

She wondered if they'd run into her sister and their friends. It would be nice. She could see how Tori was doing with the crowd.

....................

Charlotte was quick to forget her own scolding and be done with her. Jasmine didn't care for that.

Was this why she was usually alone? Wait, what kind of stupid thinking was that? Jasmine just didn't regularly hang out with anyone. The Belas were the first couple she met, but she hadn't spent any time with them since Gliese. She knew kale and Tsu well enough, and Giovenith was someone she recognized easily, but never hung out with. Brit was okay, and then there were the Brisbys when she needed to stock up on tea. Still, Jasmine couldn't say that she really had a regular friend...

Maybe that was why she was following a few yards behind Drova and kale, half-moping, half-thinking, about her role. She realized that it was important to get to know people, at least after she had lived near them for a year. She was just a funny little [former] homeless girl, but then these people were aliens and ghosts, with only a few normal people peppered around. This place could really be nice for her. She needed to adjust.

They were talking about necklaces. Jasmine looked down at her own little pendant.

"The Faravahar is the iconic symbol of Zoroastrianism, and the Cultural symbol of Iran."

It sounded good in her head. That necklace spoke to Bat-Boy, and kale's spoke to her, but Jasmine's was special to her for multiple reasons...

She looked back at the two from behind. Should she jump in? No, she wasn't desperate, but she didn't want to intrude on their group. She wasn't exactly presentable either, in her old, tattered clothing. Hell, she didn't have the money to get new clothes; she had to show off a little to get money for some food. She just used her apartment because it was free, and...wait, no, they had that other girl with them...

No, she'd probably just go home and relax over a warm drink and some cheesy movies....maybe.

She'd just step off and go home...that was, until a few familiar faces popped up around her. Her first thought was that gestapo force, and she tensed up, until she noticed that the people were actually just four feet tall. It was the boys from earlier, eager to cheer her on. She smiled. No, she wouldn't be slinking away to her apartment. She'd go back to performing for the kids, and other people her age. She beckoned them alone and broke off, towards her spot with the boards. Wait, but if she wanted a crowd...

Shit! "Sorry boys, actually, I just got an idea.", She said, excited. She could use that money she got for something else then food! After all, you had to spend money to make money!

She wanted to make a sign. She stopped by a little stand for home projects and models and bought a tiny jar of black paint, and a medium-sized brush, and ran back to her boards, and, a minute later, Jasmine planted the tall thing - about the height of the boys - into the ground. The edges were decorated with little segmented lines, running down the signs, while the sign itself read "Martial Prowess & Performance."

Hell, she didn't need Charlotte, or to mope over her own self. Idle hands were the devil's plaything, and so Jasmine would use hers to smash wood and entertain others. She was open to bets, and was trying her best to rake in cash.

[Warpspace]

Will held his tongue as Volturius spoke his peace, gracing the Astartes with a polite – yet plastic – smile as insults dropped from the Raptor's lips.

“You mistake me for a human,” the haggard cultist’s mouth widened to reveal the host’s pointy, white teeth. “And I’ll overlook your insults regarding my stamina and strength – this time - because I don’t feel like explaining to Minerva why your intestines are festooning the outside of this ship.”

Tipper turned her head to glare at the thin human sitting across from her mate. Her chin tipped until it seemed that she was staring at the ceiling, and the tight-lipped scowl gave way to a slack jawed gasp. Though she couldn’t physically see the man, her strange eyes could perceive the being.

“You are not Tzeentch, Volturius,” Will’s face remained fixed in the same gracious expression as he articulated the words, but the Keeper looming within him was not smiling at the couple. “You do not understand how time flows nor why the era we return to has so much impact on the era you come from. If I were you, I’d check my ego and remember my place. It’s never a good idea to piss off the entire pantheon.”

The psyker looked away to avoid becoming entangled between the two inflexible beings. “How soon until we arrive?”

“We already have,” Will’s smile flickered as he gestured towards the door. “Docking bay, if you please. One of the Lads will pilot the transport to the Building’s roof.”

She glanced at the pair once more, and discovered just the fuzzy blotches of the man and Astartes sitting at the table with her.

Volturius ignored the returned threats with casual disinterest- in the time he spent serving as a Chaos Lord, he had already met an "entertaining" gallery of renegades. Unstable renegades. A Lord of Change, animated flesh of the God of Deceit, was still more reliable, and most importantly, predictable, than some of the more colorful characters of fory-one thousand anno Domini. Word Bearers. Utterly detestable scum that deserved not to call themselves Astartes for how they groveled before anything that had even the faintest right to claim divinity.

"You forget your guest equally Neverborn. You are not a son of the Eighth Legion. It is not ego. Were it ego my eldest kin would have not consigned their own mothers and fathers to the funeral pyre of an entire world and reduced their own race to the mere thousands over a question of corruption and betrayal. Now Nostramon blood-" The Astartes paused to demonstrate with emphasis, a clawed gauntlet coming to rest on the diminutive skull of what appeared to be a drowned child. Obsidian eyes looked outwards from pallid flesh under a messed mat of burgundy hair- her pale hands gripping what appeared to be a knitted figure of power armor. "Near anemic."

Volturius rose, his plate noisily humming with energy as it cycled on non-stealth parameters, fluidly launching the eight foot tall demigod to his feet. Two great wings twitched from cramps as they were violently unfolded, spawning a two small gusts that leapt away from the clawed digits of his daemonic bat-wings and swept away paper napkins from nearby tables and bars. Chest vibrating with the hearty chuckle of a vicious predator, Volturius humored himself at the conversation's end and brought a gauntlet clad palm on William's shoulder.

"Besides dear Neverborn, blasphemous and righteous fusion of man and fiend; I wouldn't question your might so if you exercised it on the servants of the False Emperor in aid of my host. Seeing a Company of Guilliman's hounds has, from as I've been informed from 'friends' in the Black Legion, a most exhilarating sight to behold."

[Charlia]

"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.

Charlotte sighed. "Circus animals... maybe that's all I am. Stuck on your plane for the entertainment of a cruel universe... an exhibit who can barely realize that she's nothing more than a caged animal..." She ducked her head. "Sorry... you probably don't want to hear me moping." No, they don't. Nobody does. Nobody cares about you--that's why you're dead. If anyone truly cared, you'd be alive, or at least at peace. But they don't, and who would? "Thank you..." She forced a laugh. "I'll try not to monopolize your time or anything... you have your own lives... oh, you have no idea how lucky you are. You can be loved, and grow old with your loved ones, and when your time is up you die..." She lowered her voice. "What I wouldn't give to be able to truly die..." But I'm a coward.

[Primordial Luxa]

"This place is like a hub adjacent to many realities with many different rules. It is a wonder that something with violently hostile rules hasn't been drawn here, a thing which can corrode the rules of others. But one researcher I know hypothesizes that this place is a softer version of that, a rule set that softens out others so there won't be volatile reactions." Arthur tried to explain. An example came to mind Willow came from a place that was known to be incompatible to Raptorverse physics, with Raptors getting the short end of the stick. He would be a bit hesitant around the equine, not knowing if prolonged exposure would unravel him.

Hollows curiosity peaked a universe who's reality altered slightly to deal with the sudden arrival of new universal laws was a very interesting idea indeed. If such a thing was true then it might warrant some experimentation in the dimensional domination ether in order to test the hypothesis. If it was true it would mean that likely the Outer Gods hand their hands deep in this world in order to balance out the various realities, she imagined the All in One and One in All would be guarding the entrances and exits very closely but she had no idea what the 1000 Masks or the All Mother would be doing. The Baron would need to hear this even though he might scoff at it.

"That a very interesting idea. Who exactly thought it up?" She asked.

[Highfort]

Amanda's comment on Septimus' robes was perhaps the one that immediately stuck with him the most after their meeting. His robes were a tad drab and, while they were comfortable and, in a nostalgic way, comforting, upon further reflection he understood the issue.

His robes made him different - distinctive, some would say. They encouraged the "us vs. them" mentality and while the Residents and other abhumans in the city couldn't obviously be expected to commit cultural suicide just to satisfy the ignorant masses, he figured he owed it to them to offer a representative who appealed to the humans attempting to oppress them.

Searching through his closet, he decided to pay closer attention to the other clothes his gracious benefactor and landlord - who, for some reason, he hadn't met yet - had provided him. A series of shorter shirts and pants appeared to be designed for casual outings and he quickly dismissed these; it wouldn't do for the first abhuman representative to not be taking his position seriously.

Although, given some of what Amanda had said, perhaps people already thought he was slacking. He frowned. The meeting had gotten far too out-of-control for his liking, especially in the way she'd criticized him. Something about it sent a ripple of unease through his spine.

Eventually he found a formal Terran ensemble which, rather suspiciously, matched his Confederation colors. Setting out the clothes on his bed, he headed to the bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair.

All the while, Amanda's criticisms and praise buzzed in his head. Without the processor, thankfully disabled by Neste, commenting away in his head he had the luxury of allowing his mind to wander and he took full advantage of this. As he dried his cheeks with a hand towel and ran a comb through his silvery-black hair, the cyborg pondered the many idiosyncrasies of the democratic process.

It was supposed to impose the people's will, as though to imply that people knew and understood the long-term implications of their decisions without specialization in the field of politics. In engineering, construction, design, and other such fields the common man's consensus was snubbed in favor of the specialist: the engineer, the architect, and the designer. Why in politics, one of the most essential fields of social engineering, should the commoner be favored over the specialist? Since when had the common man ever improved his lot without politicians of some sort guiding his agenda?

Growing tired of the theory of it, which he did not understand and he supposed he would not understand unless he conversed with Amanda and her fellows further, he proceeded back to the bedroom and donned his attire.

Black dress shoes clacked down the hallway as he turned back to ensure he'd shut the apartment door behind him. Adjusting the collar of his starched gold polo, he proceeded further to adjust the dark red, nearly crimson-colored, waistcoat he'd been given. Completing the rather colorful image was a traditional formal black suit coat, matching his coal black suit pants. Septimus hoped the new look worked out - he dearly missed the comfortable breath offered by the loose fit and fabrics of his traditional robes, but if wearing something more Terran-like won over the humans then it would be worth it.

Walking through the damp, lifeless basement corridor without further word, he arrived at Neste's apartment and proceeded with a polite knock.

"Neste?" he cleared his throat, "It's Septimus, I'm here for lunch... Dear."

He immediately had the urge to slap himself in the face for adding the ridiculously-trite nickname at the end of the simple greeting. The cyborg's brain hadn't even really thought about it - he'd just blurted it out at the end as though it was the most natural thing in the world. What the hell was that about?

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka had elected to entertain herself via cellphone, her fingers tapping away at the screen as she presumably played some sort of game. She very quickly looked up at at the book and stuffed her phone back into her pocket, looking at the illustration before snickering. "I'd hope not. I'd stick out like a human in a dead zo-" Rmwtyliin was trying to be nice, and chances are that was intended to be a compliment. Reilish survival instincts didn't apply to everyday social situations, she recalled. "I think it'll look great! Don't think I could ever get my hair that nice, though." Her finger pointed at the illustration's head, and she snickered. "Not even the best barber in the universe could fix the mess on my head."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Charlotte sighed. "Circus animals... maybe that's all I am. [...] She lowered her voice. "What I wouldn't give to be able to truly die..." But I'm a coward.

Amanda started to glare at Sandy for shooting his mouth off, but quickly changed her mind. This kid needed a lot of help, even beyond being bound here by her grief. Amanda idly wondered if there was a therapist in the city who specialized in supernaturals with unusual mental health problems, then decided there must be. She'd find their phone number or web site after Charlotte left, but for the moment, Charlotte was Sandy's problem. Amanda opened the oven a bit to check on Sandy's garlic bread, inspected it critically, nodded once, and closed the oven.

Sandy shook his head sadly, half frowning. "If all you want to be is a circus animal or dead, that's up to you. If you'd like to be something more, we'll try to help you. Um... what do you like to do for fun? Maybe we can help you with that."

[Charlia]

Charlotte sighed. "Circus animals... maybe that's all I am. [...] She lowered her voice. "What I wouldn't give to be able to truly die..." But I'm a coward.

Amanda started to glare at Sandy for shooting his mouth off, but quickly changed her mind. This kid needed a lot of help, even beyond being bound here by her grief. Amanda idly wondered if there was a therapist in the city who specialized in supernaturals with unusual mental health problems, then decided there must be. She'd find their phone number or web site after Charlotte left, but for the moment, Charlotte was Sandy's problem. Amanda opened the oven a bit to check on Sandy's garlic bread, inspected it critically, nodded once, and closed the oven.

Sandy shook his head sadly, half frowning. "If all you want to be is a circus animal or dead, that's up to you. If you'd like to be something more, we'll try to help you. Um... what do you like to do for fun? Maybe we can help you with that."

She tilted her head. "I... I write, and I draw... and I sing. That's really it." This is... not normal. Wait for it. The other shoe will drop soon. Can't I hope? If you want to get torn down again, sure. Get your hopes up. Think that maybe there are people in the universe who are actually kind. My father was kind. That was fourteen years ago. It's entirely possible the species has gone extinct. Since when were kind people and cruel people a different species? They might as well be. ...I don't believe that. I refuse to believe that. There are still kind people. There are! Sure, kid, go ahead... believe in it. While you're at it, make a wish, maybe it will come true. You're so naive. No wonder you're dead. Why do you always act like you're so different from me? We're the same person. Except I'm smarter than you, and wiser. You're also a cynic. I'm a realist, darling, there's a difference.

[Monfrox]

Brit looked to the side, remembering that she was from that universe. She then glanced to Arthur to see if he was looking at her before turning her attention back to Hollow. She, herself, was part of a loosely collected dysfunctional family of individuals from different places around the globe and all walks of life that helped craft and mold the world she currently resided in, even if a select few helped lay most of the groundwork for the foundation of it. She briefly wondered if they were freaking out right now, trying to think up various ways to "rescue" her from this world. Maybe they were just going with it, though. That seemed more likely. She shrugged.

"Beats me. Maybe it's just how the world works."

[Giovenith]

The soft metallic thuds of the gold entering the donation box stirred Willow from his thoughts, pulling his gaze up from the table and drawing out a polite smile.

"Hello Kwa'a," he greeted. "Thank you for the donation. I trust you're enjoying yourself? Anything I can help you with?"

--

"Oh woooow, it's beautiful!" Giovenith gathered with the others to admire Drova's pendant, the twinkles shimmering in the air like you could catch them with your hands. "So many great things here! I hope it wasn't too expensive? Is it for you, or your sister?"

Symbols were powerful things by their background, but on a lesser level they could also be adapted to more personal meaning,which was alright too. She thought it was great that Drova found a symbol he liked.

[Northwest Slobovia]

She tilted her head. "I... I write, and I draw... and I sing. That's really it."

Amanda had just lifted the lid off her soup pot, and was about to stir it with the wooden spoon. She closed the lid, put the spoon down on the range between the front burners, and turned around to face Charlotte, looking pleased. "You sing? So do I. Not professionally, but just for my own entertainment. I sing alto, but my range isn't all that great; just a couple notes over two octaves." Maybe the poor child will respond well to a singing partner. Sandy's often good at guessing what kids need.

Sandy snorted softly. "Amanda's being modest, she sings quite well for an amateur."

[Charlia]

She tilted her head. "I... I write, and I draw... and I sing. That's really it."

Amanda had just lifted the lid off her soup pot, and was about to stir it with the wooden spoon. She closed the lid, put the spoon down on the range between the front burners, and turned around to face Charlotte, looking pleased. "You sing? So do I. Not professionally, but just for my own entertainment. I sing alto, but my range isn't all that great; just a couple notes over two octaves." Maybe the poor child will respond well to a singing partner. Sandy's often good at guessing what kids need.

Sandy snorted softly. "Amanda's being modest, she sings quite well for an amateur."

Charlotte smiled. "Sometimes I feel like it's a lost art. I'm a soprano, by the way. What's your preferred genre?" I love that word. It's such a fun word to say. You are weird. Last I checked, I didn't really care about your opinion. Tchah, you know you do. Why? You don't say anything constructive. That's because nothing could ever improve you. Aw, thank you. It's nice to be told I'm perfect. You know what I meant, and it certainly wasn't that. I know. But I'm ignoring that fact.

[The Carlisle]

Kale looked at Drova's pendant again, picturing the night sky in her mind. It did look like it. "Wow, that's lovely," she said, commenting on the pendant again.

Kale was a tad bit surprised by.... Oh! Remilia! Right... Anyways, she was a bit surprised, but didn't step back. She smiled when she complimented the necklace. The craftsmanship was great and it was good it looked nice on her. She got a more serious and interested look when it came to the seed. She took the seed, grasping it firm but gentle. It was the first time someone asked her to use her powers for such a purpose. At least, here in Bielefeld. Kale gave Remilia a wide grin. "I'll gladly do it," she said, a look of determination in her eyes.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Charlotte smiled. "Sometimes I feel like it's a lost art. I'm a soprano, by the way. What's your preferred genre?"

Amanda chuckled. "It ends up being popular music for the most part. It's what I hear the most, and I haven't had a lot of time to learn anything else for the past few years. But I've sung a couple of alto opera parts, too. Just isolated arias; I'm not good enough to sing on stage, even with an amateur company. Some of the arias are pretty."

While Amanda was talking to Charlotte, Sandy turned back to the cooking food, and slid in behind Amanda, gently pressing her out of the way of the front of the stove. He peered into the oven again, and apparently satisfied with what he saw, turned it down to keep-warm. He stirred the pots as well.

Amanda went on, unperturbed by being moved; she was used to this when both of them cooked together. "But I'm willing to try anything you sing, or maybe even find a larger group to sing with. It's been ages since I've done that. We should make plans. Could I get your phone number?"

[Fvaarniimar]

Rmwtyliin's grin was equally wide as she released one of the few things of her home which she had left. Kale would take good care of it, and it would be wonderful having a live irka nearby. "I really appreciate that. Thank you!"

It was polite to take an interest in people's lives, and the girl found that (unlike with some dignitaries whom she had 'been interested' by because that was polite) she was genuinely curious about what the other girl had been up to. "So, what have you been doing lately? I have been shopping today - Kwa'a, my guardian..." Had she explained the situation with the woman? Well, Elka did not know...then again, this was probably not the right time to expound.

Rmwtyliin pushed out her lips - the Fvaarniimarn equivalent of a shrug. "So anyway, we were about to go shopping and Elka, with whom I was talking, offered to come along. It has been pleasant thus far. How has your life been... Well, probably less pleasant lately with two-fives-and-three." It went without saying that Kale had reason to be concerned about that. "I really hope that it does not pass." She switched to English, maintaining a conversational tone and volume. "No to thirteen!" Continuing in Fvaarniimarn, she asked, "Other than that, however, have you been doing well? I have not talked with you in..." How long had it been? She was unsure. "Some time. Maybe it seems like more time has passed, with everything..."

Needing to figure out a way to actually include Elka, the Naaliasz let herself trail off. Picking up and examining a thin navy ribbon with two attached charns (a Roman-script letter O and a star) she turned to the Reil. "Also, Elka, I have met some excellent barbers. My sister's hair is often one large tangle. They can get it ready for -" An almost imperceptible pause. "Events. I am certain someone could fix yours."

[Swith Witherward]

Volutrius' Flock
"JUST GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" Will thrust a furious finger towards the door and then stomped his foot once for good measure. Astartes! Yeesh.

Tipper shot from the chair like a bottle rocket. Pale hands gathered the surplus material of her sleeves and then cast it over her forearms. Her daughter squealed in glee as the cultist scooped her into her arms and set off at a fast march. She didn't need to be told twice. They'd worn out their welcome.

"AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE, DON'T FUCKING BLOW IT! LOW PROFILE, DAMN IT! YOUR BEHAVIOR DETERMINES THE FATE OF ALL THOSE WHO ARE NOT HUMAN!" Will shouted at their backs. He wondered if he'd have to pull a dynamic Groundhog Day before the afternoon was half over. "OH, AND VISIT DEUCE! He's your point of contact, Tipper."

And so it was that the massive Astartes was neatly packed into the hammerspace cargo area of Charumati's SUV, and Tipper and her child were given a cozy seat up front. Much of their luggage occupied the back seat and cargo area (as well as a good portion of Tipper's ceremonial wine - Volturius had no choice but to sit on the sturdy casks) and the entire(ly odd) family was shuttled down to Earth.

The polite cultist parked atop the Building and promptly vanished into Bran's hanger (and through the water cooler's cold water tap... pilot's lounge, you know).

Tipper brushed prismatic bangs from her eyes and set the child down (she promptly latched onto her father's leg and refused to let go). She inhaled the fresh, summery air and allowed her mouth to part in a genuine smile. She hated this... what did Will call it? Nerfed? Narfed? Whatever it was, the dimension was nothing like what they had left. It was light and whimsical, and frowned upon mutilation of citizens. It frustrated both the cultist and her mate, but it was also home. This was where she and Volturius had let down their guard, perhaps the first time either of them had that odd luxury.

A happy song danced off Tipper's lips as she pulled her favorite overnight bag from the back seat. Wordless, it was nothing but a lyrical prayer to Slaanesh in gratitude for the opportunity to be a little hedonistic and for the joys that went along with letting down one's hair. The song abruptly stopped as a whirring sound reached her sensitive ears. Tipper squinted at the sparkling thing that had appeared mere inches from her nose.

"Oh, hai!" the tiny fairy giggled.

Something about its laugh was vaguely familiar and Tipper frowned. The psyker prodded her own brain but the recollection came a split second too late. "Oh no, it's that damn-"

In a flash, the entire family was rendered from resplendent garb to absolute nudity. A loud pop indicated that the fairy had vanished into thin air.

"--naked fairy!"

Tipper huffed and narrowed her eyes at the pale, winged, fuzzy giant that was her naked mate. The bright sunshine only added to her blindness, but she didn't need eyes to tell her that he was without his armor. "I really, really hate that thing. We should find its lair one day, and then kill it and eat it."

She shrugged. Nudity was the most sincere form of worship for her ilk, and she was proud of her mate's glorious endowment (a gift from their god). The only troubling aspect was her poor child. It was unseemly that Volturius' daughter... oh, never mind; the child, bereft of her confining attire, squealed and ran in circles in the warm summer sunshine.

They'd find their clothing (and Volt's armor, and all of their luggage) awaiting them in their apartment. That was the prankish-yet-helpful nature of the Naked Fairies.


Better Guilds and Gardens
Minerva nodded at Anais' urging to act quickly.

"We can provide modern clothing. In fact, we might be able to provide you with a means to carry your weapons," she said, and then snorted soft laughter and added in an undertone, "Klaus' specialty is hammerspace pockets. You'd be surprised what can be stored there, regardless of its size or weight. Pole arms, swords, ingredients for spells. Practical things that will keep you comfortable. Any stranger trying to reach into your pockets would find only lint."

Alexia's suggestion was one that others had contemplated the night prior. "We have a few secure places where you can create a cache. The problem is, we've got a very late start on all this. Ocho might be completely wrong, or the Measure might not pass, but we should plan for the worst. I can send Will up and he can bring you to one such place. It's in the woods and outside the city limits, but it will serve us all well."

She drew a pocket watch from behind a leather strap. It would soon be noon. "I'm sorry, but I need to move along. I have to find a man accustomed to dealing with Time."


Marcus Transitions
Marcus had knocked on Giovenith's door and discovered she'd gone out, and now he was on his way upstairs to see if perhaps she'd already arrived at the Bela's apartment. He found himself heading up the stairs just as the emperor was coming down, and he thought he'd just nod to him in passing. But he found that he couldn't just walk right by without saying a word.

"Kaiser?" the teen paused and carefully turned on the steps. "Um, hey, for what it's worth? I'm sorry Charumati isn't around. My stepmom's gone too. Same stupid war. Well, that and a divorce from my dad. But anyway, I just wanted to say, um..."

The boy sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. It was one thing to be invited to the Belas for an adult meal. It was quite another to invite an adult over. He doubted Thriller would even give a shit. Most adults didn't. They were busy doing their own thing. Still, it never hurt to try, Marcus supposed.

"I just wanted to say that, if you're ever bored or feeling lonely, stop over for some coffee or a beer. I'm in Naomi's old apartment. 2C."

He didn't wait for a reply. Too shy to stick around should Thriller reject his offer, he darted up the stairs and to his prearranged lunch engagement. His knuckles tapped against Sandy's door a moment later.


Neste's Neighbor
An apartment door farther long the hall opened and a monster stepped into the dank corridor. Three mismatched sets of limbs worked in tandem to propel the alien down the hall. The garish lighting gleamed off its exoskeleton, a brilliant, metallic, blue-green mixture of flesh and scales. The places between were black, as if some divine hand had skillfully applied an all-over wash to the beast. Short, sparse black bristles accented the bases of short, sharp spikes, and blurred parts of the creature’s outline. It ruefully clicked to itself as it walked, perhaps in frustration of its day started out so badly.

The monster paused in front of Neste’s apartment door to regard the man standing on the welcome mat. It lifted a hand in greeting; the appendage's fingers were certainly long and nimble enough to wrap around a human torso but they waggled at the man in a somewhat friendly manner. It extended its other hand to offer a bag to the cyborg.

"Heas-zeed," the Tilktep offered its best rendition of the Convocation's standard greeting. The insectoid head lacked a proper jaw and could only articulate words by redirecting breath over a dancing 'tongue'. It wouldn't have been heard at all were the hallway not painfully quiet.

The creature shook the bag, casting the heavenly odor of fresh pastry between them. "To N'ess-t'ee. Heas gi'gh."

A playful giggle intruded on the one-sided conversation. Neste had cracked the door quietly to witness the exchange. She opened the door wide and stepped out to take the bag from the odd-looking alien. The room behind her had once contained a lab, but had been stripped bare except for Neste's nesting basket, her old living room set, and Tavana the Klingon.

"It says Please give," she supplied. "Septimus, this is Am'tiltet Prit'tatlu, a Tilktep from our dimension. Er, a subrace within the Convocation. They're purely psionic, but the only way to hear them properly is to allow them to bite you. Most beings don't survive the infection."

She bowed to the alien. "Peace breathed, and thank you, Am. This is Septimus Itum. I hope you got out to vote for him!"

Am violently snapped its head upwards (an affirmation). It curled its hand to wag a deadly finger at Septimus. "Ee-tum. Do good."

The creature turned and trudged down the hall and up the stairs without so much as a good day or even allowing the cyborg to get a word in edgewise. The back door's hinges squeaked. The door slammed shut behind the departing alien.

"They aren't very friendly," Neste quickly pressed her snout against Septimus' shoulder in apology. Nostrils flared at his choice in clothing.

"You look very handsome, but very different," she frowned. The expression passed into good-natured humor. "More importantly, did you just call me a Cervidae?"

[Torsiedelle]

Torii eyed Drova's new necklace for a moment. It was a pretty little thing. Did Drova actually like stars? She assumed that, being stuck underground until he was sixteen, the boy would find the night sky interesting, and the Bielefield skyline it was nice, too. Torii liked to gaze out the little windows in their apartment at night sometimes, especially when it rained.

She leaned in and looked at it closer, and smiled. "It's very unique, Drova. I think it's really pretty. Now I kind of wish I had my little necklace with the gem from my first girlfriend, so I could be in.", She chuckled. "No sweat, though. I'm not a jewelry girl anyway. It doesn't go with my outfit. So, did you find anything else you liked?", She asked.

[Giovenith]

Suddenly rousing to check the time, Giovenith mini panicked and realized she was almost late to her lunch date. How horrid that would be! Impolite!

"I'm sorry guys, I've gotta go now!" she quickly leaned into the crowd and announced, not bothering to linger on any responses before rushing to the person holding up the stand and making her purchases. "Almost late! Late! For a very important date!" At the last minute, she returned Kale's groceries to her (almost stole them!) before taking off.

With shopping bags in hand, the teen found an opening through the crowd and sprinted as fast as she could, which was a pretty good deal considering how spritely she was. It took a lot of good, quick dodging to make sure she didn't bump into any people or stands, but she did manage to make it to the Building door. She took a moment to catch her breath, stuffed her goodies into her pockets, and thump-thump-thumped her way up the steps to the Bela apartment, hoping her short absence wouldn't be totally inexcusable. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest, but it was worth it.

[Highfort]

Septimus simply stared at the odd creature - something which, upon further reflection, made him blush with the impoliteness of the gesture - as it attempted to speak to him in a language he did not understand and gestured using a sweet-smelling bag of pastries. Eventually, much to the cyborg's relief, Neste peeked through the door and clarified the entire situation and the odd Resident, whose name he committed to memory as Am Prit, walked down the hall after assuring both him and the construct that it would be voting for him.

His day wasn't even half-over and once-again he was reminded of the oddities of the Building. And just when he'd begun to get used to it, too.

Curiosity was replaced with comfort as the warmth of Neste's breath dissipated against Septimus' cloth-covered shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and his own head sought out her neck as the familiar hugging position was assumed once-more. For some odd reason, the usual disgust or fear didn't well up in him. Instead, he quietly inhaled and exhaled.

The moment was broken with a nervous chuckle as "Cervidae" was processed automatically by his systems, though the processor offered no comment due to low power, and the word "Deer" flashed on the screen of his cybernetic eye.

"Oh!" he pulled away from the hug and rubbed his face, flushed from embarrassment, "Dear, with an 'a', not the word for the furry animal."

He gulped he he explained, looking up at the ceiling as he avoided what would no doubt be a look of disapproval from her for using the word, "I, uh, figured it would be appropriate. It's a... uh... term of endearment used by couples. Ahem."

Scratching the back of his head, he met her gaze briefly before peering inside the apartment and seeing it radically changed. Seizing this as an opportunity to change the topic to something relevant, he added, "Right, I see you've made acquaintances with the, uh, Klingon woman that returned with us on the hunting trip. Will she be joining us for lunch?"

[Charlia]

Charlotte smiled. "Sometimes I feel like it's a lost art. I'm a soprano, by the way. What's your preferred genre?"

Amanda chuckled. "It ends up being popular music for the most part. It's what I hear the most, and I haven't had a lot of time to learn anything else for the past few years. But I've sung a couple of alto opera parts, too. Just isolated arias; I'm not good enough to sing on stage, even with an amateur company. Some of the arias are pretty."

While Amanda was talking to Charlotte, Sandy turned back to the cooking food, and slid in behind Amanda, gently pressing her out of the way of the front of the stove. He peered into the oven again, and apparently satisfied with what he saw, turned it down to keep-warm. He stirred the pots as well.

Amanda went on, unperturbed by being moved; she was used to this when both of them cooked together. "But I'm willing to try anything you sing, or maybe even find a larger group to sing with. It's been ages since I've done that. We should make plans. Could I get your phone number?"

"Um, all right." She smiled again. What did I tell you? Nice. There are still kind people. I told you. Other shoe. Wait for it. You'll screw it up, like you always do. Oh, shut up! I'm going to enjoy this time, and there's nothing you can do about it! "It's 555-7352. Do you need me to write it down?"