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

[Zoblus]

"My associate here covers it fairly well. We watch, and wait; and those who are more gifted with writing and rhetoric advocate for us. Even if we look human, there are those of us who are not precisely human dedicate ourselves to action. Dan was right in saying, though, that most of what we do has been through lobbying, and laws; not the lurking in shadows and making deals in back rooms that one's imagination might conjure up. What say you?"

Tasia eyed both Robert and Sal as she sat back. The effect was rather aquiline, as if waiting for them to respond and then swooping down on it; she bore an edge of tension that Dan did not.

"Well," started Sal, drinking the last of the Port Wine," I for one am in. I'm pretty good at writing and I could design posters and such for the cause. After all, a socialist fights for the rights of all, not just workers."

He thought back on his time at Marinaleda and the education he got from there. The leftist leanings of the town meant that each and every inhabitant of the town was taught socialist values from the second they set foot in a public school. Here is my chance to do something positive with my life, I'll make sure to do it well.

"What can I do right now that can be of help to the cause?"

[Germanic Templars]

The young woman was caught a little off guard at the moment, when Thriller asked her about her thoughts on abhumans. "My thoughts?", She repeated, mulling over the question. "Well, I suppose my thoughts are that I really have no more trouble with Abhumans than I do Mundane humans, considering that almost all of my friends, including you two, are Abhuman.", She said.

"Although I would be lying if I said that I hadn't had my share of trouble with some of my neighbors, but I like to think that I have a better track record than my little sister; she's in in all sorts of trouble with the Conservators, Chaos, and I doubt she feels like she can regain their trust some times. I think that's why she interns for the strange raptors next door. She feels more useful. I think I'm trying to find my own way to be useful, which is why I wanted to help with the campaign, but what's an inexperienced woman with no college degree to expect a chance at that, right?", She halfheartedly chuckled at her own self-deprecation.

"Now my thoughts on the election itself are tricky. I actually got into an argument with Bran the other night because I don't trust the person we've been given to represent us; I don't know the man, and for all we know he has some shady deals in the works, but I'm at least glad that we have some candidate, at least for you guys. Me and my sister aren't Abhuman, and we're even proud to be one of a few mundanes in the building, but we still think of all of our Abhuman neighbors as our best friends and family, which is something I think is being pricked at lately. I got into another argument with Minerva, and I worry about how everyone looks at Tora. She means well, but she always says and does the wrong things, and it's not like me, where I'm just clumsy; she has a temper."

It had been some time since she had checked where they were going. She knew the way to the market -- it was north, of course -- but where would they go? Katya brought up her phone and paused for a moment. "There's a nice Italian restaurant nearby, as well as a traditional Japanese one.", She mentioned, feeling a little depressed at the thought of Japanese food. "Oh, there's also a Chinese place that apparently specializes in Shanghai style food! I remember hearing about one of my friend's mothers who went to Shanghai a lot in school. That sounds nice. Really, I think Edge would enjoy the Japanese restaurant, and you might like Italian, Thriller. Actually, I'd like it, too, but Shanghai sounds fun. What do you think?"

"What I think?" Thriller repeated. "I think the term abhuman is rather misleading, really. In fact, I never heard that term before until I got here, because you see, terms like that serve no real purpose on the galactic scale when everything, or almost everything, is mixed together or mixed with something." Thriller remarked. He shook his right foot in mid-step to loosen up the concealed knife in his shoe that was causing a bit of discomfort.

"Lemme give you on how we categorize people: First you have our species, human or homo sapien. From there it can branch off to cyborg, which is a combination of man and machine. Next is anthro, which is human mixed with anything other than an alien species. After that is you have hybrids, which is our species mixed with an alien race. Finally there is Meta. Metas being our species genetically augmented with special abilities that are not normal for us to do. To put it this way, Aleki is considered a meta because of his regenerative ability and the ability to conjure electricity, plus his natural born Hulk rage ability. Other than those abilities, he is practically human." Thriller explained before taking a deep breath and continuing, "Oh almost forgot, anything that is not your species is considered alien, just keeping that part short for now."

Further on he contemplated on italian food, but the thought reminded him a bit of home, more so of his adoptive mother. Despite being rich, the lady cooked nothing but italian food, probably due to being a fourth generation Italian with a cookbook passed down from her family to her. Still, years of Italian food made Thriller lose interest in the food to the point where he rejected it unless it was the only food served to him. Japanese food made him depressed due to other reasons, so Chinese food was only acceptable food for him; decision made. "Nah, i'll pass on the Italian. How about Chinese food, hardly eat that."

[Primordial Luxa]

As Primordial walked away from Jasmine with a set of notes he looked back on his plans and thought about which of them would not only be best for himself but for his allies. When he had caught word that their were tensions between Meta-humans and mortals he had originally thought "Finally! The inhuman will take their rightful place on this earth and people will stop being so upset when I ask for mortal resources." However as time went on and he read about the exact nature of the conflict it looked like the Meta-humans would merely resort to wiping out the humans. That upset him a little that their would be less pliable flesh to create things out of but he was pleased none the less because the eradication of lesser species was step 28 in John Kirowan thesis The movements of perfection: 49 steps all Luxan universes undergo. He hoped that maybe he could be a guide after the Meta-humans wiped out the mortal races.

But the further he looked into it even that seemed unlikely. Not because the Humans were trying to segregate the Meta's or because their were more of them, but because the Meta's of this Universe seemed so willing to resign to the humans wishes and were resistant to the idea of simply eliminating the threat. Maybe it was his pride, his knowledge of other such events or own privilege but Primordial was utterly convinced that if the Meta's actually wanted to they could easily wipe all of the humans out without much trouble. People like Giovenith, Thiller and the Von Eldtirch's could wipe out entire armies on their own. With the help of the other apartment dwellers and the various other Meta's in the city he saw no reason why they couldn't capture the continent. Even the more mundane people were armed with powerful mechs, transmogrification weapons and other devices. And if he threw in with them...well...that would be the end of it.

But still they hesitated. Why? he thought. They were superior in nearly every way what possible reason could they have to hold back? It wouldn't even be a war it would be pure extermination. It was then that it hit him. He went back to the 49 steps, the people of this universe had skipped many of them especially number 25 which was considered necessary to move forward and avoid the possible pitfalls. Step 25 was "The race which is heading for Luxanhood must now cast off all ideas and notions of mortality. Only by acting through logic and emotion can the following 24 steps be undertaken as no races can truly ascend without attaining pure nihilism and cynicism." That was the problem, these Meta's still valued human life and that would get in the way of preserving their own.

[Swith Witherward]

John was absorbed with his phone when Yuna arrived. He sat on the back of the toilet tank with the soles of his jackboots planted firmly on the closed lid, and his tongue thrust out of the corner of this mouth.

“Pew, pew, pew!” he cackled as he jabbed an index finger at the screen, “Ah, no, duck! Duck!”

He tore his gaze from the screen and smiled at Yuna. “Cat videos. I lose every time,” the cultist lowered himself to the floor and stuffed the phone in his pocket. “Are you ready? You should pack up some of your stuff.”

[The Carlisle]

Kale listened to Drova go on and was, in fact, shocked to hear that he lived in a palace. In a cave of all places. I mean, Drova wasn't human, with the wings and all. He was different. But... royalty??

She snapped back when asked about the cooking. "Oh no! I'm fine with cooking. In fact, its kind of normal for everyone to help cook, even guests," she said," It's more... communal where I come from. Plus, I can show you the recipe." She gave a small giggle at that. "You ever tried quinoa before" she asked.

[Torsiedelle]

unaware that she was being watched at the moment (although she wouldn't care. It was the Raptor house, after all.), Torii looked far down the firing range, then at the Garry button, before pressing it. This would be interesting...

...........

"Chinese it is, then.", Katya decided with a little clap. "Let's go, then!"

Tucked around the market area, Katya found the restaurant and led her two friends along to it, allowing some conversation time along the way. It was still a little quiet. Talking would be better reserved for a cooler, more social area. "Here it is.", She pointed over.

[Monfrox]

After a while of standing in the lobby, Brit had felt her stomach rumble. Perhaps it's time to get some food. Real food! Good food! Food food! Yeah, that sounded like a plan. She remembered her father teaching her how to make bacon, and realized she'd never had bacon mac and cheese before. Well, this certainly would not do. She knew that the bacon took about as long as the mac, but she should get to that first. She took out a package and tried to open it but couldn't by herself. A knife. Yes. That would do the trick. But she couldn't be satisfied with just any old knife, no she really just picked the first one that lay in the drawer, which just so happened to be the butcher knife. She didn't try sharpening it like her dad told her to do before using a knife, and found out the hard way that it was actually very dull and wasn't going to cut through wet plastic.

Brit tugged the knife towards her and, in her usual way of not thinking things through enough, didn't account for how much force was too much. The knife slipped out of the notch in the plastic and she went flying with the bacon, pan, and knife altogether. At least there wasn't a fire on the stove, but she hit the ground pretty hard, punctuated by a loud: "SHIT!" She sat up and rubbed the back of her head, not knowing that her head had actually landed on the butcher knife and had cut it open. At least her thick skull was good for something, though. Still Brit got up and put everything back onto the stove, staring at it for a bit while trying to ignore the small pain of the cut on her head. Course she didn't really think much of it, even though blood was starting to stain her hair.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

"Chinese it is, then.", Katya decided with a little clap. "Let's go, then!"

Tucked around the market area, Katya found the restaurant and led her two friends along to it, allowing some conversation time along the way. It was still a little quiet. Talking would be better reserved for a cooler, more social area. "Here it is.", She pointed over.

Edge drooled and stared, her stomach growled loudly with hunger. " Edge nudged aganist Katya. "Do you know what they serve in there!? Does it taste good!?"

She sure was eager to try a new type of food. She always wanted to try chinese, especially their kind of dumplings. Her mother use to make them back when she was a child, her favorite thing to eat, now she has to ask Scarlet to make them, however, Scarlet's on the otherside of the planet.

[The BranRiech]

John was absorbed with his phone when Yuna arrived. He sat on the back of the toilet tank with the soles of his jackboots planted firmly on the closed lid, and his tongue thrust out of the corner of this mouth.

“Pew, pew, pew!” he cackled as he jabbed an index finger at the screen, “Ah, no, duck! Duck!”

He tore his gaze from the screen and smiled at Yuna. “Cat videos. I lose every time,” the cultist lowered himself to the floor and stuffed the phone in his pocket. “Are you ready? You should pack up some of your stuff.”

Yuna stood there for a moment, stifling a chuckle at the sight of the uniformed cultists sitting on the top of the toilet, playing games with one of those phones everyone but her seemed to have. She didn't much understand the draw of the little devices, though they seemed quite adept at providing communication and entertainment as was the case here.

"I can have it packed quickly. I don't own as many belongings as my brother does."

Her eyes trailed off into the corner of the room, looking at the ceiling as she figured the kinds of things she'd need to pack. Probably a few sets of her clothes, consisting mainly of her robes, and casual clothing. She'd need her medical supplies and ingredients, and that was about all she could think of. "Yeah, I'll just be a few minutes for that, but other than that, I'm ready."

--

"Qui . . . Wha?" Drova asked, finding much difficulty in pronouncing the strange word that Kale had put forth for him. It was obvious by his response that he'd never tried it before, and his palate was generally attuned to the food his people had been eating for centuries. "Sorry . . . " He chuckled, shaking his head when he tried pronouncing it once more, getting stuck again in the same spot of the word.

"Well, I'm up for trying anything unless it's alcohol. I can have a little, but too much kills us." His smile curled downwards, into a slightly disappointed frown, but there was no use in fighting biology.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

unaware that she was being watched at the moment (although she wouldn't care. It was the Raptor house, after all.), Torii looked far down the firing range, then at the Garry button, before pressing it. This would be interesting...

"Ah, GA-ry!" A voice called out from down range as one of the doors slid open. A man in a blue jumpsuit wandered out and looked around. "Gary?" he said in confusion and let his eyes adjust to the lighting. He spotted Torii in a few moments and laughed. "Gary!" he called and started walking towards her.

[Torsiedelle]

"Well, from what I've heard, Shanghai food is usually pickled in wine, or it has to do with wine? I forget the exact details, but it's also cooked in a variety of ways, and usually heavy on seasonings. I guess we won't know until we go in, though."

Katya walked up and gently pushed the door open, and held it for her companions.

.......

"Whoa....okay..."

Torii looked really confused. Something about this seemed familiar...

"You glorious raptors.", She chuckled. Her giggling built up into an amused laugh; she fought back her giggling and aimed at the clone. "I'm going to assume you can hear me, Mr. Von Eldritch, but, um, these things aren't sentient, right? Basically just meatbag ballistic dummies?"

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick wasn't that used to his talking collar - he was more accustomed to communicating via touch. Not thinking of speaking from his position on the table, the cat licked the last shred of meat off of the bone and jumped towards the unfamiliar person. A few more steps put him next to her. <Hey, are you okay? I think I smell blood, and (Replay of the accident from Nick's perspective, in shades of blue, gray, and green) looked nasty like it might injure you.>

Lifting his paw, Nick racked his brains trying to think of what you were supposed to do in that sort of situation. He'd seen bandaids, and TV had stitches and gauze... Maybe something soft. Short of sitting on Brit's head himself, the cat didn't know how to help. He didn't really want blood on his fur, and sitting on her head just didn't seem quite right for some reason...

Worst-case scenario, he would see if whoever was manning the front desk could contact a doctor.

[Straka Witherward]

The folds of Ocho's surplus facial skin drew back into a close-mouthed smile, the effect of which made him look both overly bemused and utterly ridiculous. Of course, that was exactly how he felt whenever any reporters cornered him and demanded his opinion. "They snared me as I was passing by and I sincerely thought it would be a minor thing. Imagine my surprise when Briggs entered the studio."

His face become lax once again as he drew his drink towards him. "Congratulations on passing the bar. I seriously think the exam is kept simple to reflect the examiner's unwillingness to evaluate answers to questions on laws too complex to be grasped by god or mortal. For example, did you know the speed limit in residential areas is 40 kilometers per hour, unless you're a velociraptor. Then you're permitted to do 120, but only in your bare feet, and only if not wearing a disguise. You can also throw out everything you know about law in the United States; Bielefeld law - like the nation itself - is influenced by its German roots."

Ocho squinted as he glanced out of the window to the quiet street beyond. Festival-goers marched past the pub, their arms linked and their voices raised in song. The thade had lost count of how many independent festivals were actually happening. He'd come to the conclusion that everything had merged into one gigantic party.

"I don't know who the other side's counsel is," he rumbled, "They seem to be an extremely difficult group to trace. I've demanded to see the original submission, and I've been told that it was unavailable. I'd like to say this is bullshit, however a year or so of contract law in Bielefeld has opened my eyes to the confusing way in which this nation operates."

The thade returned his attention to the young human sitting across from him. "Sweet was a pain in the ass. You're welcome to look into it, if you'd like. His family are fusspots that want everything for nothing, and insist on everything being done their way. Sadly, he really was struck down by a bus when he jumped in front of it. Scared some children for life, no doubt. But the reason the Constables on Duty didn't respond was not due to specism or racism. During that particular hour, small vandalism-based crimes broke out across the city. Sweet was one of thirty to call emergency services. He wasn't injured, nor was the situation life-threatening, so he was forced to wait. Low priority."

Ocho folded his massive paws in front of him. "I know it's tempting to make Sweet into a poster child and rally around him as proof of discrimination and specism, and I might consider doing it had a logical explanation not been provided - including records showing that the police did respond to other, more pressing EB complaints that hour. I refuse to turn him into a martyr for the cause, however. I can't gloss over the fact that the fool put himself in front of a bus. I'd feel dirty doing it. My species doesn't work that way. It's dishonorable."

---

Marcus gathered up the plates and cups and brought them to the kitchen. He returned to pick up the utensils, and nodded at Sandy's question. "Sure, people stay long-term there. There's no US Embassy in Bielefeld. Hell, there's no diplomatic immunity in Bielefeld, either. It doesn't belong to the World Assembly or any other recognized groups. Anyway, the embassies all closed last year, except the Luxan one. That one is actually in the Building. We used to have a bunch, like the one from New Aksarben and so on."

He brought everything to the kitchen and began to fill the sink with water and suds. "Don't worry about paying rent," he called to Sandy. "There's never a charge for the solitude necessary for meditation. And there are several religions housed in the Observatory. Some are ascetic. Some aren't. The dominant one is mine, so you'll have to put up with a lot of Latin chants, and group meals are eaten in silence most of the time. Everyone pitches in when it comes to work. We bake, we cook, we garden, we wash floors, we shovel the snow. It's a community so you'd be expected to contribute in some physical way."

---

Neste savored the emotional thrill that prickled up and down her spine as Septimus emerged from the hallway. Her head tilted to regard his attire - Confederation red seemed to be his favorite color - and she didn't hide her amused smile. It was all part of the pleasantly surreal turn life had taken. The feeling intensified as he embraced her, and she closed her eyes to further appreciate his proximity.

"I said I'd cook breakfast. You didn't have anything thawed for dinner," she chided him before falling silent to catch the updates droning from the television.

Things were certainly looking up, if the numbers were accurate. Neste leaned against Septimus, smiling at both the sensation of his hands against her belly and the pride surging through her. His first official Representative speech was just a few short hours away! Undoubtedly the experienced politician wasn't at all nervous, but the construct was. She turned in his arms to press her face against his neck.

"That damned 13 might still pass, and you'll be hard pressed to handle the aftermath if it does. A wise man from the Confederation once said, 'It is the closed mind that is most dangerous, for such a mind will reject all changes by outside stimuli and perceive only what it believes to be correct and just.' There are too many closed minds in this city. If anyone can find a way to open them, it's you. I know that in my heart."

Neste's fingers caressed Septimus' cheek as she pulled her face away and met his gaze. " I believe in you."

She sighed, and then crinkled her nose at him. "I think dinner will be cold by time we finally get around to eating it."

[Highfort]

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fine reheated," Septimus met her gaze with a determined look of his own, eyes narrowing as he begun his shift back into political mode, "Whether or not you or anyone in this Building or in the district believes in me is of little concern. The only people I need to believe in me and in the prospect of peace and equality are the mobs waiting for our blood and our flesh. The festival may have struck their fancies and delayed any retaliation about my election for now, but I doubt we'll be so fortunate as to have that feeling last."

Pulling away from her as her fingers left his cheek, Septimus continued to stare at the now-inane reports on the television, covering some local celebrity happening or another. The political report remained on the side and scrolling at the bottom, as though to remind him that work was about to begin tonight.

"The wise man from the Confederation is at a loss without his processor," the cyborg mumbled as he rubbed his chin, "If I'm not careful I might end up closing more minds than I open... But... how to get through to these plebes..."

He gestured at the television as it showed several Bielefeldan citizens going through their day in the festival. Smiling faces and laughs and raucous chatter greeted his eyes and ears.

"These are the people I have to get through to, to convince that we abhumans... or e.g. if you prefer... are more than just funny carnival animals to be paraded out on occasion," he sighed, rubbing his forehead as he moved to unpack the Italian food, its smell muted to him by his nervousness, "All this is well and good but we're still outsiders. We're the outsiders that help them, maybe, and that know how to have fun, but at the end of the day we're not their blood. We're not their creed. We need to change that viewpoint if we hope to succeed."

"I... look, Neste, I don't know what your part is in this effort... Maybe it's wisest not to know," Septimus approached her after setting out the Styrofoam boxes and plastic utensils to run his fingers over her head, "But if what we're trying to accomplish here doesn't work out... I just... wanted you to know that the last few hours were lovely. They were lovelier than I've ever had in my entire life. Thank you."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"Whoa....okay..."

Torii looked really confused. Something about this seemed familiar...

"You glorious raptors.", She chuckled. Her giggling built up into an amused laugh; she fought back her giggling and aimed at the clone. "I'm going to assume you can hear me, Mr. Von Eldritch, but, um, these things aren't sentient, right? Basically just meatbag ballistic dummies?"

A panel in the ceiling opened up and out came a camera that focused on Torii. "Well, they are sentient but mentally atrophied and hostile to non-clones. Very disposable, so feel free to break one without guilt then see if the programming repairs them. Better they suffer the unforeseen consequences than someone who needs your help." Neil replied over the intercom.

Gary was picking up speed, briskly walking towards Torii in the booth. He passed the 20 meter mark, getting closer with fists drawn. "Ga-ry!" he called out.

[Torsiedelle]

"Huh? but I thought this was a healing device.", Torii said. "What am I suppose to do?"

Seeing the clone getting closer, her reflexes kicked in. Torii immediately hopped into position and aimed the strange pistol at it. "Ready to fire!"

Her finger was beginning to squeeze on the trigger.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"Huh? but I thought this was a healing device.", Torii said. "What am I suppose to do?"

Seeing the clone getting closer, her reflexes kicked in. Torii immediately hopped into position and aimed the strange pistol at it. "Ready to fire!"

Her finger was beginning to squeeze on the trigger.

The camera then focused on the clone and extended a barrel. the bang of a gunshot rang out followed by Gary getting struck in the knee and falling over. "Gary?" he asked trying to stand up again.

"There, a wound, try patching that up. Might be wise to extract the bullet first." Neil added over the intercom as the gun barrel retracted back into the camera.

[Swith Witherward]

“Well then, away with you and pack!” John insisted. The living never thought logically, of course, otherwise Yuna would have packed and called him rather than called him and then packed. Er, not that it mattered. The young cultist really had nowhere important to go (guard duty didn’t count if one wasn’t actually assigned it. Ah, scheduling oversights!) and he didn’t have any plans for the evening other than shooting at the cats on YouTube videos.

“Yooooo-nah, if you hurry, we can stop for schnitzel,” he sang while crossing his heart in promise, and then he set a foot on the shower drain.

He was about to vanish into the sewers when German polka music burst from his pocket. Flummoxed, the cultist pulled a face and yanked the device out to view the screen. “Ach, fuck. Official business, so says the Kaiser’s mouse. She says squeaky squeak, and I go along with it, ja? I’ll go along now. You be ready in a few hours, and I’ll come get you. Then we have that schnitzel and maybe some pretzels too. The kind with honey mustard.”

John was less than thrilled as he tumbled into the sewers. There were so many good things to play, and none of them involved whatever it was that the Lads were too busy to do on their own.

---

The wise man from the Confederation is at a loss without his Septimus, though he probably wouldn’t admit it aloud, Neste told herself. It was only a few years ago that she had downloaded whatever scant material was available in her desperate bid to learn more about the Confederation before visiting it. Not surprisingly, Brutus had quite a few books and papers under his belt, and they were loaded with clever excerpts. Constructs called these ‘knowledge kibble’ - small tidbits of wisdom doled out a teaspoon at a time when most needed. Septimus presumably had his own kibble storehouse, each tidbit gained through an assignment or expedition to some colony, or settlement, or potential trade partner. It seemed that he had plenty of them for one sort of circumstance, but hardly any for another.

Septimus’ touch drew her from her thoughts, and his words stirred her soul. Neste captured his free hand between her own. Reptilian fingertips stroked the landscape of tendons and superficial veins that defined the back of his hand; the tactile moment stirred her emotionally and physically.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled at him, “But moments like these are formed between two people, not just by one, and so I should thank you as well. I have never been so content, nor felt so secure. You are my beloved.”

Neste drew his hand towards her mouth and kissed his curled fingers. “My part in this, as defined by Minerva, is protection. Your protection. You're the actual politician. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? In the past, when each of us has been sent to troubleshoot some backwater planet, we arrived larger than life and with the might of our governments behind us. We knew what needed to be done and, come hell or high water, the local inhabitants would do it. We performed a role and that was that.”

Her thumb swept along his index finger and she sighed. “When we first met, I would never have dared to hold your hand. I didn’t even allow myself to study you too closely, except for the scars on your face and perhaps your mechanical parts. You were Brother Septimus Itum, Somebody Important filling a role, and I held no government backing thus my role was diminished to that of a common servant. And then I got to know you and I realized you were also Brother Itum, the thoughtful and encouraging man. Years passed and we found each other again here, and you became Septimus. This afternoon, we became so much more. I would never have trusted you to this extent if you hadn’t allowed me to see you as something other than Somebody Important.”

She kissed his hand again before letting it slip from her fingertips.

“That’s perhaps an answer,” she nodded as she eased into a chair. “I know the Building's Public Relations crew wanted to showcase everyone's abnormal abilities, but I think that’s the wrong approach. That way just builds up division, no different than if we arrived with Convocation or Confederation demands for the populace... we held power because we had power over the common man.

"I think the other side just needs to see that we all share the same normal sort of life," she suggested as she slipped her napkin onto her lap. "We need to show them that we are no different. We need for them to feel that commonality in order for them to trust us enough to hold our hand. We live here. We laugh, too, and we fall in love. We cry and mourn. It’s this common ground that best serves our purpose. Help them see that first, and then they might be more willing to open their hearts and minds to our unique talents.”

Neste carefully nudged a lasagna square onto Septimus’ plate before selecting a smaller one for her own. “Or not. I’m really terrible at this social stuff, as Ambassador Sage was fond of reminding me - ‘fiddleheads have no business in these matters!’ True enough. My part is therefore to stand quietly beside you, and to protect you.”

She pursed her lips and snorted. "I really should hush if I'm to accomplish that."

[Torsiedelle]

Torii winced. She didn't know how to feel about using a clone, even if it was hostile towards her. She wasn't unaccustomed to seeing someone get shot either, but the pain and reaction was still enough to make her stomach churn, after being so used to being in a safe environment. She gulped, and looked at the clone with pity. It was still human, right?

Torii stepped out onto the range and approached the thing. She didn't have any medical equipment for taking bullets out, and she didn't carry her knife with her outside, either. Now would've been a good time to have it. "How can I extract the bullet?", She asked, kneeling a few feet from the clone. "And, um...", She fumbled with the gun, "isn't this kind of unethical?"

[Monfrox]

"Hmm?"

Brit turned around when she felt an intrusion in her mind. It wasn't like the normal, broken record voice she had been hearing the past year. It was different. She looked around the dining room, but the only thing looking at her was a cat. She smiled and leaned down.

"It's too bad I'm allergic to cats...well, as long as I wash my hands, I'll be fine. My head still itches, though. Maybe I hit it harder than I thought?" Brit mused to herself as she patted Nick on his head, smiling. Blood kept running from her wound, but head wounds usually bled a lot so it wasn't too disconcerting to see her acting like it didn't even happen. Well, that is if she was actually aware that she was bleeding.

[The Carlisle]

Kale waved her hands a bit, responding to Drova's last comment. "Oh nonono! No alcohol! Never really used it anyways, especially the hard stuff..." Kale said, "It's a taboo in the tribe to have liquor, even in cooking. Bad history with it..." Kale kind of frown in reaction, remembering more stories. Her people had a lengthy history, and some periods of their time were truly horrifying. There were god times, but the tragedies spoke the loudest even where they were today.

Kale shook her head, grinning again. "Sorry about that! Just a bad memory," she said, "I'll fix up the dish. It shouldn't take too long."

[Fvaarniimar]

For communication via Nick's ability to start becoming two-way naturally, about half a minute of continuous physical contact was typically required. Some things could alter the length of that period - notably, previous connections to the other party's mind and attempts by the other party to speak through the connection established. However, absolutely none of these applied, and so Nick didn't perceive any of Brit's thoughts.

He took the initiative, replacing the paw. After all, the stranger's attitude towards a cat who had just spoken in her mind was reassuringly blasé - and if she was in the communal kitchen, she almost certainly was a Resident.

<I'm Nick, by the way. Um...do you know that you're bleeding? I don't know where to find bandages, and I can't sew stitches, but I could ask the person at the front desk - it would be nice if it"s Rudolf - to help get a doctor. If you need one...> Nick felt concerned, and not a little curious. Brit would feel those emotions - as though her own, unless she was good at making such distinctions.

(Unfortunately, Nick was not a hypoallergenic feline. Given his recent prowling of the corridors, Brit's allergies likely would act up regardless of whether or not she washed her hands.)

[The BranRiech]

"Uh, well . . . Wait . . ." Yuna sighed, already too late to stop John from vanishing back down the drain. She stood there, almost dumbstruck.

"Yeah . . . Would take me a minute to pack." She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked down the drain. She knew she'd have to understand at some point, but she would never get used to the Cultist's ways of travel, even having experienced it before. It was foreign almost in all aspects to the girl.

Turning around, Yuna slipped her way out of the bathroom, and made a quick turn towards the dresser. She smiled and nodded to Kale and Drova, standing in the kitchen, deciding on what to eat. "Hey, guys." She waved slightly, walking over to a small dresser of sorts near what was obviously Yuna's bed (The presence of a small stuffed animal was probably proof enough). "Uh, Drova, I'm going to be spending the night at someone's place, alright?"

"That's fine by me, Yuna." Her brother's eyes narrowed as she revealed her plans.

He'd always hated being the "Over-bearing brother" and he knew that considering he was 18 and she was 17, he had to let her have at least some freedom. "Yeah, just be careful, will you?" He looked sympathetically over at her, as she packed her bag with an extra change of clothes, having already packed away her small set of vials and various ingredients.

"Uh, anyways, sorry, Kale." He shook his head, focusing back on his guest. "And go right ahead, we'll see what you can whip up. Feel free to use anything in the fridge." He offered, taking a seat at the counter.

[Tiltjuice]

The restaurant was expansive, a large chamber divided in two by a long, carpeted walkway. At its back were the double doors to the kitchen and two large carts packed high with used dishes; off to one side behind a paneled wall with mounted paintings of landscapes and seasonal images were the private banquet rooms. The brightly lit space held a large set of ceiling lanterns overhanging the multiple round and square tables with their white tablecloths. At this hour, the late lunch crowd lingered, mostly businessmen with a few local families. Uniformed waiters stood at intervals between the tables, watching for anyone needing new plates or teapot refills.

The hostess standing behind the lectern did a quick count of Katya's party. "Welcome to Shencheng. Are you three, or will more people be joining you?"

[Torsiedelle]

The restaurant was very nice, Katya thought. The scenery was fitting, and the room had a very comfortable feel to it. She admired the style; maybe she could incorporate some into her own apartment?

She acknowledged the hostess and smiled. "It will be just the three of us. This is a fine looking place, by the way."