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

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

"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.

"Lets get going~!" Edge smiled and waved to Thriller. "So where are we heading again~?" Edge asked turning to the emperor. "Been a while sense i've been here... i may need a tour of the town.." Edge giggled, and headed to the door of the lobby and held it open for her two friends. "Ladies first..and robotic emperors."

As the cool air touched her skin, Edge stared outside, she planned to spend time outside later and explore the nearby forest, she always wondered what kind of animals lived there considering all the crazy stuff she's seen here.

[Torsiedelle]

"Violence, blood, terror."

A feeling of fear welled up at the bottom of the girl's gut; Torii shuddered. "I can see why it turned red, then. I've, uh, seen a lot of violence and blood."

Her smile strained a bit, like it did earlier that morning. "I thought it'd have to do with something sweeter than that."

.........

"I figured our man of the group would know, being acquainted with the city better than us.", Katya said. "And thank you, Edge. Holdng the door for a lady is nice, even if it is another woman."

She was a little happy to feel the sunlight on her face. It looked nice outside. Hopefully, things would stay nice while they spent their day in town.

[The BranRiech]

"Violence, blood, terror."

A feeling of fear welled up at the bottom of the girl's gut; Torii shuddered. "I can see why it turned red, then. I've, uh, seen a lot of violence and blood."

Her smile strained a bit, like it did earlier that morning. "I thought it'd have to do with something sweeter than that."

"I doubt it means much." Drova shook his head, patting Torii comfortingly on the shoulder. He didn't want her day to be ruined by the infernal device she held in her hands. There was still plenty of day left to explore, and to have a good time before night fell, and the streets they strode on would become dangerous and mean. He would definitely heed Yuna's words if all was to be believed, not wanting to endanger himself or her in the slightest, or even any of his friends.

"Now let me try and pick it up again. Maybe it'll eat me or something." He chuckled, placing his hand in Torii's own, picking up the tetrahedron.

[Germanic Templars]

Thriller rushed down the stairs, feeling inside that he might have taken a bit too long in his room. He took mental note of what Marcus told him and put it into consideration, however, right now his task was to meet up with them in the lobby.

Upon reaching the lobby, Thriller danced his eyes around the room to see that they were not in the lobby but rather heading outside. A sigh of relief swept him, to know that he wasn't too late to join them.

Thriller stepped outside the building close behind the Katya and Edge, "Sorry for the wait there. Got caught up with some things." He grinned slightly as he looked at them. A final mental check of all his necessary things he was going to carry on him, last thing he needed/wanted was another trip up to his room.

[Torsiedelle]

"Hey, if it ate you, who would I hang out with, huh?", Torii chuckled. She allowed Drova to try and take the object again. "I wonder why it's driven away from you, and what does it turning black mean, too? I wanna know about it."

........

"Oh, no worries, you're all fine.", Katya commented. "Welcome back, by the way."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Teasing her hunger with the scent just a little, Giovenith carefully began to serve herself, hoping dearly inside that she hadn't breached anything by doing so.

Sandy noticed Giovenith's hesitation, and waved her concerns away. "Go right ahead, we're not going to stand on black-tie formality for a friendly lunch. Oh, about the two serving dishes of meatballs: the one that matches the rest of the china holds... I guess you'd say 'regular' meatballs. The fancy but mismatched one has spicy meatballs, the way my family makes them, with paprika and garlic. Amanda's... come around to our way of thinking." Sandy gave her an amused glance and slight smile, remembering her resistance to Hungarian food. "Please, try both... I just wanted you to know what you're getting."

"I hope I'm not being rude in asking, but is your teaching job how you get to turn into the Olympians' Pegasus? I know you said you didn't personally know any gods before moving here, so I would guess that be one way to run into the ability..." She turned her head to nod and smile at Marcus. "Marcus is a novice priest for his machine-god religion, a good one too, and you already know I'm a godling myself, but we've both had a lot of experience in the interaction of other pantheons' activities."

Sandy had conjured his wine glass full of Telanaxis wine, and was taking his first sip as Giovenith mentioned Marcus' status in yet another mysterious local religion. Sandy raised an eyebrow and looked at him in a new light, not just as a cyborg, but as an apprentice spell-caster... and quite possibly better trained than he was himself. Sandy slowly put down his wine glass as he considered the implications. "Well, well, well... I'd been meaning to find out more about the city's cults and religions, and now I have another one -- and another person -- to ask." Turning back to Giovenith, he went on. "We'd been meaning to ask you more about your pantheon and the Olympians, since it sometimes seems that you know the latter personally, where... well, if they've said anything to me at all, it's been in dreams."

Sandy thought for a second, trying to remember what he was going to say, his eyes darting back and forth as he gathered his thoughts. "Oh, right! No, no, nonono, I don't mind. If it mattered how I can turn into Pegasus, I wouldn't have brought it up. You're... half right. I can read classical Greek, which is a necessity for a scholar of the period. That's half of how I found the spell. Probably the lesser half, since without the Sight, I wouldn't have seen it any more than any of the ... well, it seems that here that they're called 'mundanes', but back home we called them 'civilians' ... who'd seen the scroll over the previous 2,500 years."

"The scroll was buried in the Met's collection, in New York, but it was well known in historical literature. It's significance to the scholarly world is that it's the earliest surviving copy of some Greek math, and over a dozen historians had read it and written about it. But if any of them saw the spell and cast it, it escaped the notice of a lot spell-casters over the past fifty or so years. They didn't take at all well to me doing that, so I rather doubt it. I may be the first person to have cast the spell since the cult of the Muses went extinct." After a brief pause: "Or is believed to done so."

[The Carlisle]

Kale moved up to the group around the tetrahedron thing. She looked at it whilst listening to the others. She had a couple things on her mind. "Red also represents love. It can't be just black and white," Kale said. While Remilia's interpretation might fit, there was more than one side to the story, one more possibility. Torii seemed like a troubled girl, and from... some memories... seemed to have violent tendencies. But... she was also had other emotion, like love. Kale could recall the previous relationship with Tsu, and her bond with Katya. Maybe it meant those things? Or maybe not... she could be wrong... but... so could they.

"I wouldn't touch it again," Kale said, "Just for your safety." She was concerned about what the thing did. It seemed to be based on emotion or possibly one's past. Who knows what it could do if they let it be on someone. Seemed dangerous.

[Giovenith]

"Oh I will! I don't mention it often, but I really like meat--I love animals a lot too, I don't like them being in pain! But I do like meat," Giovenith admitted with some blush, taking on the offered dishes with a restrained glee. This was far better than most square meals she got, not that she typically ate poorly--she could feed herself, and Willow could cook, but neither to quite the degree that was present in more mature households.

Digging into those, the godling listened intently to the professor's story while giving the occasional nod. The rules and specifics for magic and spellcasting varied widely across the many dimensions, so she was never that surprised when another magic user described mysterious-sounding circumstances. Even so, stumbling upon it like that where others had not was quite a twist of fate, and she began to wonder if perhaps their Olympians did have something in store for them, so fond of fate that pantheon was.

The girl swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know any of the Olympians personally..."

Except for that one time, but she didn't talk about that. That was between her and her good Luxan friends. Maybe someday she'd tell Marcus, but not for a while, not until she was sure there would be no resulting chaos.

"... it's more like a community thing," Giovenith continued to explain. "The gods know one another, of course. The Olympians are so popular even today if only in media, so of course we all know of them and their activities. They seem to be very nice people in general, they're a very creative and organized from what I've seen, but we all know about their tempers and wrath too. But that's okay, lots of gods and pantheons have tempers." Her mother's opinion, when she gave it, seemed to be along the lines of, 'Fun people, would hang out with them, wouldn't let them watch my kids though.' "My pantheon's religion is called Triitclo-Cloerith, Tritclo for short. I have three sisters and two brothers, but because we're all relatively young, my mom is still the only one who is known in the worship. People don't just accept new figures in old religions within seventeen years, you know! We like dragons." She nodded.

[Swith Witherward]

Conservators
Minerva sipped her tea and considered Luce's words. His was a good question. The situation was not the same as before, when Drones and Cthulhu involved themselves. She allowed the tea's vapors to warm her sinuses, and then ventured towards answering him.

"What I expect is for none of you to die. I also don't expect the enemy to try to mess with you. Yes, you're "time cops", but you also appear entirely human because you are entirely human. That puts you at an advantage. They may know your names and what you are, but they also would be pressed to prove it to the general population or to anyone outside their immediate group."

The cultist leader shook her head. "Do you want my honest opinion, Luce? I think the world needs to learn to save itself. I think the "abhumans" should thrust a middle finger at humanity and let it get on with killing itself. Why should we trouble ourselves with its nonsense? We'd be much better off if we stayed hidden, or established our own place where "mundanes" couldn't go. But that wouldn't solve anything, would it? I sometimes wonder if Mr. Demens, in his own little way, was trying to give us our own place when he allowed for this Building. I wonder what he'll do when he learns that this Building is considered an affront to people. Why has he drawn us all here? For what purpose? More importantly, is that purpose to fight for ab rights? Have we finally reached the point in the story where we are to go from average to hero? Is the story just beginning or is this the odd little climax that occurs midway through the book?"

Minerva shook her head. "I'm sorry. I digressed. I suppose what I came to ask is whether or not you lot are sticking around once the other shoe drops, and if so, in what ways are you permitted to help? If you are permitted to help, then we could dearly use your support for another 'Operation: Pied Piper'. Are you familiar with the history behind the evacuation of children from London?"



Rathaus
Neste held her tongue and endured the security processing, but her opinion of the experience was evidenced by the scowl on her face. Would Septimus need to endure this maddening process every day? She followed him to the display case, and neatened his shirt collar before scrutinizing the unlabeled map in front of her nose.

“This is the Bielefeld River,” her finger tapped the blue line snaking down from the north. “It branches into the Downtown District. We are here, just a few blocks from Point Park.”

Her finger tranced the waterway until it had reached the sea. Neste tapped the street running along the shoreline. “Main,” she said. “It runs past Memorial Park. If we follow it south, we’ll see that it ends at Subabsurdus Street. The Building rests on the southwest corner of Subabsurdus, the last structure, and faces Main. Pavilion Woods is directly behind the Building.”

Neste’s finger ran eastward on Subabsurdus where, neatly between the street’s beginning and end, a tidy square containing equally spaced streets and avenues. The area was shaded in light blue and marked by pin labeled “Newhaven”. Neste shook her head.

“I don’t understand. This is supposed to be the Canabae neighborhood. Cultists, mostly. Think of those quaint post war houses or council flats. Very small, with a picture window in the front and a kitchen facing the backyard. Laundry lines, and alleyways, and white picket fences with children playing on tidy green grass in postage-stamp yards. Mother wears an apron, and father wears his uniform. There are also some brick apartment buildings, and the pub, and a grocer. But it’s already cramped.”

She stepped away from the case, leaning close to Septimus in order to keep her words between them. “’Newhaven’ is the lie they’re spoon feeding mundanes and abs alike. It’s a ghetto disguised as a gift. If all the abs are housed there, then the people no longer need to worry. Out of sight, out of mind. And if all the abs are there, the mundanes can't hunt them, or so they're told. That's the appeal of 13.”

Neste brushed her bangs from her eyes and snorted. "Newhaven. I wonder if they're rouse us tomorrow morning, or if they'll wait a whole week before sending in the USiPo."

[Fvaarniimar]

"Violence, blood, terror."

A feeling of fear welled up at the bottom of the girl's gut; Torii shuddered. "I can see why it turned red, then. I've, uh, seen a lot of violence and blood."

Her smile strained a bit, like it did earlier that morning. "I thought it'd have to do with something sweeter than that."

"I doubt it means much." Drova shook his head, patting Torii comfortingly on the shoulder. He didn't want her day to be ruined by the infernal device she held in her hands.

Kale moved up to the group around the tetrahedron thing. She looked at it whilst listening to the others. She had a couple things on her mind. "Red also represents love. It can't be just black and white," Kale said.

Rmwtyliin nodded, rather upset that she had caused the girl distress. "That - that color might mean something else to people here." Although the idea that it could represent love was incredibly strange. "I was just explaining why I was afraid..." I did not intend for my words to hurt you.

"Now let me try and pick it up again. Maybe it'll eat me or something." He chuckled, placing his hand in Torii's own, picking up the tetrahedron.

The tetrahedron did not budge without a fair amount of yanking on Drova's part, although it released before reaching the point where Torii would experience discomfort. It hissed, almost unhappily, as that occurred, and widened enough to lightly nip one of the young man's fingers before shrinking back down.

It didn't blacken this time; it did stop glowing. It also seemed almost magnetic, in that it tugged lightly towards the hand which it had left.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka, in her typical manner had been distracted by her cell phone during the events regarding the tetrahedron. Mostly checking up on news back home. Some mayor in Southwest Reiltam had the bright idea to try creating a Reil Republic, and conquered a grand total of one town before he accidentally fired at an Arkadacian plane and was arrested. "Smart move, Dubenshi..." She muttered before quickly darting her eyes up, hearing the conversation turn to the color red.

Well, she had seen tons of it. The last time the Culdranth wandered into town to hunt down someone who'd been causing trouble on the border, there was a drunken squad staying in the local inn, and red wine covered the floors to the point that the stains still remained. It was amusing how a species could be famous for being the most beloved, third-most feared, skilled, and drunken on a continent, all at the same time.

Where was she going with that thought? Even she didn't know. She looked at the device and pursed her lips. "It's also the fact that it turned red. That's usually a pretty bad sign. You know, red lights and the like."

Smooth like a baby, Elka.

[Highfort]

Septimus leaned back slightly and rubbed his chin as Neste oriented him using the tiny wall-hung map. The apparent "gift" of Newhaven which Neste rightly pointed out as an emerging ghetto left the cyborg politician with a slight frown as he appraised the situation.

Turning to match her whispers with his own, eyes trained warily on roaming guards doing their daily patrols, he replied, "If these labels are correct, Newhaven's got a direct route to a military base outside the city to the south. It's farthest away from the Bielefeld River to the north, which means in the event of a riot they'll have time to close or burn the bridges, isolating the Market District. They're not just sealing us out of the city; they're sealing us into a trap. But what are they so afraid of? Who's moving them to do this?"

Her final comment sent a slight chill down his spine and he ushered her out of the city hall without further word. Once they were back on the street, he relaxed, "Let's have lunch, then. I would suggest packing - most likely if Thirteen gets passed they'll waste no time shoving us out of the Building and the other residences so they can shepherd us into Newhaven and cut us off before we can do damage control. Once we're there we'll need to worry about getting people to lock up and secure their belongings in case of retaliation by the mundane citizenry. I have a feeling the police aren't going to be watching Newhaven very closely, nor investigating any reports of hate crimes taking place there."

Such dark thoughts were momentarily forgotten as Septimus took in the aromas of the Prytaneum and its atmosphere. A far cry from the tacky plaster columns and stereotypical Hellenic architecture that had characterized his trips to such restaurants on the behalf of the Confederation, the Prytaneum held no pretenses about being a restaurant which served Greek food without appealing to Grecian times. Septimus walked up to the receptionist to ask if they had any private rooms available, to ensure secure political discussion.

"I'm afraid they're all booked, sir. Do you or your companion have a reservation?" the thin man looked down at a guest book and adjusted thick-rimmed glasses.

"Under Trilb, perhaps?" Septimus nodded hopefully. His stomach was growling now and while the purpose of this meeting was to learn more about Thirteen and Bielefeldan politics, he was famished. And while he didn't have to worry about having his flesh drained away to fuel a generator in his shoulder, being hungry still left him uneasy and slightly nauseated.

"Ah, yes, sir, right this way," the receptionist offered a small smile, as he led the duo down toward a secluded room near the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes and ears, "I hope the both of you enjoy your arrangements."

While waiting for a waiter to arrive and take their orders, Septimus busied himself with filling up on water and a plate of horiatiki, a small salad, that had been set out for the two as an appetizer. Looking up at Neste as he paused his consumption, he asked, "So, what exactly is Thirteen and what should we expect once it passes?"

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"Without context as I've only got a working knowledge of two universes. So comparing mine to this one there are greater noctule bats, wolpertingers, feathered dinosaurs, elwedritsche, and white-beaked dolphins. What do you expect in a temperate Europe? To find the interesting animals you need to go to the literal ends of the world where the extreme climates lie and have resulted in creative designs. Like the jungles of Kyrazinj, but I won't be mounting an expedition there for a while." Arthur thought out loud, that particular jungle held something that could be quite valuable to the Raptor's research, but the recent situation deprived them of the manpower to retrieve it. Not to mention Fortu had disappeared with the map they needed to locate it.

[Tiltjuice]

Conservators
Minerva sipped her tea and considered Luce's words. His was a good question. The situation was not the same as before, when Drones and Cthulhu involved themselves. She allowed the tea's vapors to warm her sinuses, and then ventured towards answering him.

"What I expect is for none of you to die. I also don't expect the enemy to try to mess with you. Yes, you're "time cops", but you also appear entirely human because you are entirely human. That puts you at an advantage. They may know your names and what you are, but they also would be pressed to prove it to the general population or to anyone outside their immediate group."

The cultist leader shook her head. "Do you want my honest opinion, Luce? I think the world needs to learn to save itself. I think the "abhumans" should thrust a middle finger at humanity and let it get on with killing itself. Why should we trouble ourselves with its nonsense? We'd be much better off if we stayed hidden, or established our own place where "mundanes" couldn't go. But that wouldn't solve anything, would it? I sometimes wonder if Mr. Demens, in his own little way, was trying to give us our own place when he allowed for this Building. I wonder what he'll do when he learns that this Building is considered an affront to people. Why has he drawn us all here? For what purpose? More importantly, is that purpose to fight for ab rights? Have we finally reached the point in the story where we are to go from average to hero? Is the story just beginning or is this the odd little climax that occurs midway through the book?"

Minerva shook her head. "I'm sorry. I digressed. I suppose what I came to ask is whether or not you lot are sticking around once the other shoe drops, and if so, in what ways are you permitted to help? If you are permitted to help, then we could dearly use your support for another 'Operation: Pied Piper'. Are you familiar with the history behind the evacuation of children from London?"

"I imagine I would be pointless, as would my fellows. But it is true, that people are more willing to help those who help themselves," Luce observed mildly. "Any question beyond that lies in ...caprice."

The hands unclasped now, showing calluses born of wielding sword and spear. "I am not familiar with Pied Piper; more than your summary, but I feel we can fit in. Dia, Chrys and I are currently still taking turns guarding our insider from the Allspice incident. Mister Lesterberry. Dora and Tasia would be most available for any tasks you might have for them, and also no longer subject to our pledges to avoid life-taking if that becomes necessary." A very slight frown of distaste appeared and his eyebrows drew together slightly, furrowing his forehead at the thought. "I suspect Chrys would come running, as well, if more bodies were needed, especially if Hans were to ask; and if three are not enough, she can send word to me to call on more Conservators."

Dora interjected at this juncture. "Even I would only do it as a last resort. I suspect Tasia would be the least restrained as far as spilling blood, given her past experiences with Allspice." Unlike Luce, she appeared completely at ease, her aspect having changed once Luce finished his explanation to Minerva.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Oh I will! I don't mention it often, but I really like meat--I love animals a lot too, I don't like them being in pain! But I do like meat," Giovenith admitted with some blush, taking on the offered dishes with a restrained glee.

Sandy tried to soothe her embarrassment: "No need to be embarrassed by trying to avoid being cruel."

Amanda echoed him, "No, not at all." Then, with a gentle smile: "But perhaps we should invite you both over again, to make sure you're eating properly." Never been a teenager that couldn't be fed more, and never been an adult that wouldn't try good home cooking.

Even so, stumbling upon it like that where others had not was quite a twist of fate, and she began to wonder if perhaps their Olympians did have something in store for them, so fond of fate that pantheon was.

The girl swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know any of the Olympians personally [...] "My pantheon's religion is called Triitclo-Cloerith, Tritclo for short. I have three sisters and two brothers, but because we're all relatively young, my mom is still the only one who is known in the worship. People don't just accept new figures in old religions within seventeen years, you know! We like dragons." She nodded.

Sandy hung on each of Giovenith's words. He knew so little of the Olympians it hurt, yet he had some odd connection to them. Worse, he knew absolutely nothing about Giovenith's own pantheon, and hers was active in this world. "If others in your pantheon have met the Olympians, I'm willing to accept their judgement. As a historian, however, I can't say that any of the stories about them are more truth than fiction. Hopefully some deity is having mercy on the soul of whoever wrote down the myth of the Trojan War; historians certainly aren't."

He smiled at the young goddess as he continued, shaking his head at the same time, as though watching somebody slip on a banana peel: if history was often tragedy, the records of it were too frequently tragi-comedy. "Homer, or the Homeric school more likely, strove mightily to knit together the bits of history they knew of the time and place, but they got so many mundane facts wrong, I can't help but wonder what of the description of the Olympians is even slightly correct."

"It's a pity you don't know any of them personally. I was hoping to learn a little about them, or perhaps even meet them. The existence of the Pegasus spell raises so many questions. Did some spell-caster play Prometheus, and steal Pegasus from the gods? Was Pegasus the gift of a dying religion to the only mortals who could accept it?"

"Two other questions alternately worry and fascinate me much more, though: has Pegasus always been a mortal in an immortal body? That would explain much of his mythology... well, to the extent it's true. Or were my enemies right, and Pegasus was left behind deliberately, as a scout or outrider for the Olympians' return? There aren't many people who can answer those questions..." Sandy let his statement trail off: none of those present could, and possibly nobody could, his handler having been trying to decide which would be the most interesting one to pursue for some time.

Amanda had been making sure her guests were settled and served before serving herself, and then she politely listened to Sandy's questions and Giovenith's answers. However, when the subject turned to Giovenith's religion, she was riveted. Sandy's magic had shaken the faith she had in God, and Giovenith's mere existence all but finished it off. How does one believe in a god nobody's seen for two thousand years when there's another god cheerfully eating at one's table?

Amanda cleared her throat quietly, then spoke timidly. "I have a question, but the answer may not be any of my business. So, please forgive me in advance if this seems too inquisitive. Where I'm from, people worship God out of hope: hope for justice, hope for forgiveness, hope for something -- anything -- beyond the mortal world." The word Amanda wanted to use was "immortality", but that wasn't a hope she'd mention to such a young woman, godling or not. "Why do people worship your pantheon?" Even more cautiously: "And why do you all accept their worship?"

[Swith Witherward]

"Newhaven's got a direct route to a military base…"

The words hung in Neste's mind as they fled the Rathaus. Even the professional service of Prytaneum's wait staff did little to drive away the frost that had crept into her spine. She realized that Septimus had only made an offhand observation, but the similarity to a construct reprocessing center was uncanny. She hadn't yet mentioned the rail line that ran up from the agricultural district; the military maintained its own track.

"First things first," Neste forced herself to refocus on their purpose for being at the restaurant. "You asked who was behind all of this. There are many factions in Bielefeld, but nearly all are older than the modern city. Some date back a hundred years or more, and still others predate even the Roman and Egyptian empires. Nobody yet knows who is behind this but – whoever they are – they're rather good at what they do."

She unfolded her napkin began to pick at her salad. "Thirteen’s wording seems innocuous enough. Create a space friendly to all abhumans. It's apart from the rest of the city, thus abhumans are safe. They’ll have their own charter schools, can operate their own businesses, have access to their own health care providers, and will have their own homes and be part of a special, extraordinary community. Not only that, but they’ll be employed in a local automotive factory, and the textile mill."

Neste speared an olive before pointing her fork at Septimus. "The catch is that no abhumans can own a business outside of Newhaven. They can't send their children to schools outside of Newhaven. Of course, it’s already illegal to use their magic on or around mundanes, although I think the city is lifting that today, just like they did with the Carnival."

The construct shook her head at the foolishness of it all. People would willingly trade their freedom for the promise of something more. But they already had freedom. They already had rights. Neste suspected they had been beaten down just enough that they’d forgotten all about it. She chewed her olive and thought of Nila. Job discrimination kept her sister-kind scrambling to make ends meet; Thirteen would seem like a godsend to those in her position.

"Thirteen does more than segregate and relocate a population. It states that it does all these things to bolster citizen safety and national security, but the scope is so damn broad and the terminology so vague that it leaves the door wide open to restricting rights and oppressing citizens – even those not considered abhuman. You, for instance. For all intents and purposes, you’re human. Your cybernetic components are a choice, much like a prosthetic leg. You aren't abhuman. Unless, of course, you begin to add more and more, and at some point cross the line from normal to abnormal. But who decides where that line is? And don’t even get me started on the purity clause."

The waiter intruded to take their order, and Neste grew silent as he recited the daily specials. She chose the sea bass and then settled back with her wine to allow Septimus a chance to weigh in.




Marcus helped himself to some meatballs but his focus was on Giovenith and the kind words she’d bestowed upon him and those of his faith. Well, all the brothers at the Observatory, really.

GIovenith's openness about her pantheon caught him off guard. Naomi forbade the family to talk "shop" at the dinner table. In fact, Naomi forbade them to talk about Chaos at all, although Marcus thought that might somehow be related to his father’s disgruntlement with Charumati. As a result, he had never before worked up the nerve to ask Giovenith about her own pantheon. He realized he was even wrong about the religion’s name. Obviously it wouldn’t be 'Pearlelei’ism', but Triitclo-Cloerith sounded so much better than anything he could have guessed. He wondered if cloer had anything to do with the French cœur, for 'heart'.

He was about to ask about Sandy's Sight, but Amanda posed her question and Marcus politely stared at her. "Haven’t you met other gods from here? Other than Giovenith, I mean."




"Hopefully it won't come to bloodshed. I can't expect things to remain sunshine and daisies, but I sincerely hope Bielefeld's citizens - mundane or not - are better than that," Minerva grimaced and set her cup on the coffee table. There were a few on both sides that seemed incapable of playing well with others.

"Pied Piper was the push to get children out of London," she continued. "There aren't too many abhuman children here, but there are quite a few children of abhuman adults. The families will suffer more than anything."

[The BranRiech]

Again, the boy rapidly dropped the Tetrahedron back into Torii's hand, his finger going numb as his arm had the last time he'd handled the damn thing. "Ah!" Drova shook his head, infuriated by the small device that seemed to love Torii, but hated him. "What did I even do to the stupid thing?" He sighed, looking slightly more angry than he'd been in a while. Stomping a foot into the grass, his shoulders rolled back, trying to calm himself.

[Giovenith]

"Well I don't know the answers to those questions, anymore than you know the cooking class schedule of your next door neighbor," the teen said apologetically, feeling bad that she wasn't able to ease any of Sandy's urgent wonders. He was clearly in need to know more about the life conditions he'd been saddled with (no pun intended), and she understood that it must have been a kick in the teeth to receive silence from the divine for so long, only to run into someone who could possibly 'hook you up' as it were and have that be a dead end as well. Truth was, coming to Giovenith with queries about the plans of the greater divine was a lot like trying to learn about your career's future through your CEO's kid. Sure their ears might have drunken in a few numbers here and there at the dinner table, but all in all they were largely just as clueless as you were.

"You could ask the Conservators," she offered, suddenly remembering. "A lot of them actually are from ancient Greece, a few from Rome I think, and they directly work for two of the gods, Time and Fate. There is a chance that due to your between worlds travel that the pantheon they go to isn't in the same condition as the one that resided in your world, but it is a start. I'd love to help more personally, but I'm not supposed to just go around knocking on other pantheons' doors or asking things of them, I don't have anything close to that sort of status yet. Pantheons have to be very, very, very careful and respectful of each other, very bad things happen when they don't."

That last bit of subject made her terribly uncomfortable, and she was quick to stuff three more meatballs into her mouth in order to avoid the awkward, ringing silence that would have conveyed so. It was this chewing break that allowed Giovenith to take in Amanda's careful approach and timid but deep question. She had no problem with the question, but felt just a little burdened in that she could sense the older woman's somewhat vulnerable position as she asked, wondering if Mrs. Bela was going through a shaking of faith and needed to be guided sensitively. Unlike Marcus, Giovenith's mom didn't mind her child talking about their pantheon's business to a point, that point being that she wasn't supposed to reveal anything only the family should be aware of and she wasn't supposed to come out as a deity to those who weren't in any position to take on such information. Given the nature of the Building the latter was just fine, and Giovenith wasn't so youthful that the former was any difficulty. Oh, and the unspoken rule of not making Pearlelei's parenting look bad, but that was sort of a given for any child divine or not.

"Why?" she repeated after her swallow, slowly twirling her fork around between her fingers thoughtfully. "Why? Hmm, well why does anyone go to any gods these days, really? Our worship is base is no small, ancient, tight nit cult--it's a majority religion for three modern countries, and a minority religion in three others though legally banned in one of them. The reasons are diverse as the people. Some out of belief in greater good, some in a need to be looked out for and always loved, some for higher meaning. Some out of tradition or social pressure, some as a desperate last go-to in a crumbling life, some to make right what they've done wrong, some to feel superior to others. Some out of experimentation, some because they know nothing else. The Earth is very at peace these days, at least relative to the past centuries, there's not much need to be fancy with our demands as it stands."

Amanda's final question gave her pause. Not because it took her by surprise, but because of it's familiarity. Dabbing the meat sauce at the corners of her mouth, the teenage deity took a meaningful glance at Marcus, knowing that by now their relationship was strong enough that they could at least make this connection quickly. That was the night she got a big clue about just how much this cyborg boy meant to her, after all, when she made good on that owed dance.

"I suppose only Greater Beings would know for sure, and they'd never tell," was the closest thing to an accurate answer she could give. "Creator, Chaotic, Devourer--my mother is a Creator, I love her and she loves me, but I accept that there are things about her I will never be able to understand, comprehend, or stop slightly fearing. The truth is nobody really knows why. You may as well ask why mortals feel the need to preserve their lives for as long as they are able--instinct? Fear? Higher calling? Many will claim to know, none actually will. I have my own theories, but they will leave you with no joy or enlightenment...."

[Torsiedelle]

"Hmmm."

Torii looked at Drova, concerned. "I'm a little flattered by the thing, but I also don't really want it, or...maybe I do. I'll ask Mr. Neil about it later."

She assumed that, seeing how they replicated, that it was cool to take it, and weirder things did happen in Bielefield. She pried the thing off and slipped it into her shorts pocket.

"Probably better to check it out later, and look around some more, eh? Bielefield has immigrants from all over, right? I want to find a Russian place."

She pointed further down from them. "I don't get to see stuff from home often. Even if it's not from my home, and just Russian, it would be great. I want to buy one of those old Soviet ushankas, and maybe a flag. I love Russia."

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Elka very quickly poked her head up at the mention of Russia. Several decades before she'd been born... blah. She wasn't about to internally tell herself a story, but Russia-fever had swept over Reiltaim several times over the decades (and possibly centuries) to the point that most Reilish names were just bastardized rip-offs of Russian (or generally East European) names. She thought it over... she still had a little money on her, so she could give it a shot if they were selling anything good.

"If there's a Russian place, I'd be interested in going." She stuffed her phone down her pocket, intent on being more active instead of remaining a wall flower. "Hopefully they sell some Imperial Russian stuff, though. Nothing wrong with Soviet era stuff, but the Tzars always seem to be a little overshadowed by the Hammer and Sickle years."

[Highfort]

Septimus continued to pick over his salad as Neste described the finer points of Thirteen and its implications for the abhuman community, though by the time she was finished and the waiter was ready to take their orders he awkwardly sat shifting at the implications of being herded into a ghetto. The Confederation had considered ghettos to be woefully inefficient and, in any case, he'd never been on the side that was being shoved into those trash piles shamefully referred to as "neighborhoods".

"Your acclaimed lamb keftethes, please," Septimus nodded at the waiter and handed him the menu, waiting until the man had departed before offering his thoughts on the situation. He rubbed his palms together and let out a sigh, bringing his own glass of wine to his lips after a moment and preparing himself.

"So, let me make sure I have this correctly," he went through the information and repeated it to commit it to memory, "Some ancient faction probably older than modern Terran civilization is interested in isolating and possibly destroying the abhumans of the city, given where they're putting us and how they're doing it. Under Thirteen, all abhumans will be confined to Newhaven where they will receive separate accommodations for work or education. And given it's wording, we have no idea what qualifies as an abhuman or what can be done to abhumans in the interest of national security. That's... quite a situation."

He chuckled at how much of an understatement that was, then took another drink of wine as they waited for their food and considered their options, "Quite obviously, I'll need to act quickly. We don't know how long I'll be able to do anything with the legislature or how long I'll even have my position. If Newhaven doesn't get a representative I might be voted out of the legislature once the mundanes take over and express their desire at the ballot box for a human in office."

"If all the abhumans are working at the factory and mill, then most likely those will be guarded installations," he leaned back against the booth's leather seat before taking another sip of wine, "Prison labor installations, essentially. Newhaven becomes a work camp, but with all the trappings of the outside - a gilded cage for Bielefield's Second Citizens. That would explain why they're placing us so close to the military base; they can mobilize troops at a moment's notice if anyone attempts to get out of Newhaven or rebel."

"Not that rebellion will do any good," the cyborg paused to rub his forehead, letting out a sigh, "With abhumans concentrated in one sector, if the city needs to take us out it can employ methods typically forbidden in civilian zones: firebombs, biological warfare, starving us out. The only good news is that, thanks to the fact that Newhaven is a sub-sector of the city, they won't have the nuclear option."

"But let's not give them a reason to take us out," he added, realizing where he'd been going and licking his lips in distaste for the possibility of total annihilation, "We need to keep the rest of the abhumans out of trouble. It'll be enough trouble stopping false flag attacks - no doubt the anti-abhuman organizations will be looking to frame us for attacks on the citizens of the city. We don't need anyone among us justifying those fears with substantive evidence."

He fell silent as he finished the last of his wine, eying the glass warily. Setting the glass down, he looked at Neste as he awaited his food. The two of them, minus his cybernetic eye, could pass for perfectly mundane humans, and yet the people feared them so much they wanted to round up and destroy them. And what of the mundanes who inhabited the Building? Before his cybernetic eye, memories of seeing humans - though he couldn't be sure they were totally mundane - in the Building's kitchen and hanging around at the common rooms and at the meeting the night before flashed through his head. They would be condemned as well. Race traitors. He could already see the mobs forming on the streets, ready to visit violence upon them.

An asteroid impact, happening in slow motion, was what this was. And here he was with a little bottle rocket trying to turn it back to where it came from. He recalled a story from Terran Mythology: David and Goliath, the giant and the boy with a sling. Except he just had a stick, and the giant breathed fire and smoke and death.

He'd never felt quite so helpless in his life.

"Good vintage," Septimus broke the silence, "I'll pick a bottle up before we leave; might be the last of the luxuries we get for a while. I have a bad feeling that the scavengers are circling."

[Primordial Luxa]

"Without context as I've only got a working knowledge of two universes. So comparing mine to this one there are greater noctule bats, wolpertingers, feathered dinosaurs, elwedritsche, and white-beaked dolphins. What do you expect in a temperate Europe? To find the interesting animals you need to go to the literal ends of the world where the extreme climates lie and have resulted in creative designs. Like the jungles of Kyrazinj, but I won't be mounting an expedition there for a while." Arthur thought out loud, that particular jungle held something that could be quite valuable to the Raptor's research, but the recent situation deprived them of the manpower to retrieve it. Not to mention Fortu had disappeared with the map they needed to locate it.

By this time the three of them had finished there food and were wrapping up there meal. Typically this wasn't how Hollow ate her food, she rarely had tables, human/humanish company or even properly cooked meat when she did so. She had to admit the experience was appealing if slightly synthetic, she didn't like the contrivances of the situation. Eating something that you hadn't broken and beaten yourself just seemed insincere, both to yourself and the meat. However she was able to quickly move one when she imagined the various creatures which Arthur was describing. She had already eaten several bats but they never really got old, wolpertingers were most likely connected to both The Meat and The Gamble Singularity if they were anything like the ones she had heard about. That could prove dangerous to consume. But Dinosaurs, now there would be a real treat, no creature she had ever met could match the sheer killing power of the Vraal which it was impossible for her to absorb but she imagined some of those colossal reptiles could.

She would have to keep track of this Arthur character and see if he was telling the truth about his home. "Kyrazinj you say? I may just have to start a travel booklet, or hire someone to bring them here for me." she said "It has been lovely here thanks but I am feeling the need to do something adventurous or retire for the evening."

[Torsiedelle]

"Well, from my personal point of view, the Soviet Union was much better than Tsarist Russia, so of course it would be more popular."

Putting the tetrahedron confusion aside, she seemed happy to speak of Russia and her homeland. "It was a great state, far better than any pitiful western state, like this one, or anywhere else in Europe. It had a great military, space program, industry, and national pride and unity! My country bordered it, of course. We may have been enemies in the past, but we learned to find mutual trust, and now Russia is our closest ally, even closer than China!"

Torii always loved to gloat about Russia and her homeland. "I want to find an ushanka for its iconic look, and so I can brandish a Soviet star. I know the army where I'm from uses them for winter uniforms, but they're kind of hard to find. The Soviet ones are more available and popular. I also kind of want to eat some food from home for once,, besides my sister's cooking."

She looked at Elka, Rwmtylliin, Kale, and Drova. "Oh, wait, is there anything you'd all like to see? I'm just thinking out loud and all that."

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

"Meh, I'm just from a village in the closest thing to hell on Earth, so maybe I'm just desperate to have any government at all." Elka admitted. She was pretty clueless on how Tzarist Russia WORKED at all. Probably like Arkadacia, minus the horns. Torii kind of came off as a bragger, though. If Soviet Russia was so great, how come it collapsed?

She mulled over what she'd actually want to see while she was out and about. Nothing really came to mind, barring the sudden appearance of a Melanth booth where she could buy a pointed helmet. "Think they've got any Italian booths around here? Garlic bread comes from that place, right?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

He was about to ask about Sandy's Sight, but Amanda posed her question and Marcus politely stared at her. "Haven’t you met other gods from here? Other than Giovenith, I mean."

Amanda looked acutely uncomfortable. A sweet, little-girl goddess was quite enough for her, thanks, and Sandy seemed to have some doubts about the Chaos gods. If they bothered him, she'd probably find them disturbing. And that's leaving out her little crisis of faith.

"Uh, no, I can't say that I have. I know they've been close at hand: Minerva said something about there being four gods in the room during the Residents' Meeting. But no, nobody has introduced me to any of the others. No, 'Amanda, this is Bob, God of Pocket Lint', 'Bob, Amanda'." She tried to make a joke, but it sounded flat even to her ears.

"Well I don't know the answers to those questions, anymore than you know the cooking class schedule of your next door neighbor," the teen said apologetically, feeling bad that she wasn't able to ease any of Sandy's urgent wonders. [...] Pantheons have to be very, very, very careful and respectful of each other, very bad things happen when they don't."

Sandy raised an eyebrow at the last part of what Giovenith said, and then took advantage of her pause to reply. "I didn't expect you to know, and the hope of a personal contact was a little more than a shot in the dark." He had a wry expression on his face, a bit down but not out. "I think I met one of the Conservators just after we got to Gliese this past winter: a legionnaire who said he served in Dacia. That's an old name for a place just north of modern Greece, so it stuck in my mind."

"I suppose I could see what they have to say, but I may simply have to try to contact the Olympians myself. There's precious little about them known in our world, but here there may be more information about them that's survived since the Classical era. And if the last part of what you said was a warning, thank you. I have little practical knowledge of deities, and still don't believe half what do know about them."

"Why? Hmm, well why does anyone go to any gods these days, really? [...] You may as well ask why mortals feel the need to preserve their lives for as long as they are able--instinct? Fear? Higher calling? Many will claim to know, none actually will. I have my own theories, but they will leave you with no joy or enlightenment...."

Sandy's face lit with a crooked smile; something Giovenith said pleased him. And the rich may theorize why the poor sleep under bridges. But no need to tease her: Giovenith seems to be trying her best to answer us, and she is only 18. She may have slipped without realizing it. "'Creator, Chaotic, Devourer': that sounds like a taxonomy of deities! Are you allowed to explain it to--". He broke off suddenly, noticing Amanda's expression.

Amanda looked at him with a sidewards glance; he shouldn't play while she struggled. It was easy for him as an intellectual atheist to accept that there were gods: their presence was the obvious answer to the old question, "Where are these gods you claim, and where are their works?". Or perhaps "easy" in the sense of Samuelson's "Well when events change, I change my mind. What do you do?": logic had little inertia; acceptance didn't move so easily. But either way, they were here, and they bothered Sandy only a little; they could be rationalized as simply a kind of more potent spell-caster. He reached across the corner of the table and took Amanda's hand: comfort was about all he could provide now.

Amanda had been listlessly poking at her spaghetti with her folk as Giovenith's answer sunk in. "I don't mean to be flip, but your answer doesn't help me very much." She didn't sound flippant: glum was more like it. "If what you're saying is true, I might as well worship you or Sandy as much as anybody else. Both of you are the greater good or are willing and able to try to reach it, and both of you may represent some higher meaning already. And Sandy... Sandy already provides me more contentment and security than most mortals can, and for all either one of us knows, he may be an immortal in some funny way. If the gods here are usually as distant as God is, perhaps I should stick with the ones I can talk to. You've already given me more answers in the last five minutes than God has in the last thirty years." Amanda smiled at Giovenith. Her smile held some warmth, but also yearning.

Sandy spoke cautiously, trying to judge both Amanda's and Giovenith's reactions at the same time. "Some gods seem to offer more than hope." Amanda turned slightly towards him, brightening a bit. "But I'm not sure exactly what they're offering or what they're asking in return." That got a slight nod from Amanda: let Sandy ask the questions she wouldn't know to ask -- or wouldn't understand the answers to -- and then she could ask her own questions if the deal seemed reasonable to him.

Sandy returned her nod, and seeing that she was... not "happy enough" but "less unhappy", turned to their guests. His next question may interest all of them, thought for different reasons. "What the Chaos gods offer seems like a Faustian bargain. Did you catch how Blackwater described Hans' Men: magic summons them the way sharks are drawn to blood in the water? Their range is phenomenal: miles and miles apparently, but... That's a curse somehow, not a gift. And apparently a significant curse: it 'annoys the universe' when the do it. I'm familar with magic striking back at spell-casters who ask too much of it, but the whole universe? I have no idea what that means."

"I'd thought you and Kei -- and maybe some of the other gods -- might have Sight like that, but if I'd been asked, I'd have said that sensing magic like that was entirely off-limits to mortals. Even Pegasus' Sight is only sensitive out to a few hundred yards. And the part about it being a curse... I'm baffled, utterly baffled. Does any of that make any sense to either of you?" Sandy looked hopefully to Giovenith and Marcus: that kind of supernatural power was beyond his understanding."