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

[Tiltjuice]

"Thank you," the hostess replied with an answering (but professional) smile, leading the three to a square table near the middle, right next to the red-carpeted dividing strip. The menus and table settings were already there and a waiter approached to inquire about their choice of tea or water for anyone who preferred a cooler drink. There were, of course, others available; but most patrons opted for one of the two varieties of oolong. Behind the register, which was now visible from their table, red canisters of tea leaves, labeled in English and Chinese, could be seen in glass-fronted cupboards. The menus were the same, divided into the different types of food (meat, poultry, seafood, vegetarian, soups, and dessert). There was the occasional typo in English, here and there, but the text was generally understandable, and images of some of the more famous dishes, especially the lion's head meatballs and the basket dumplings - carefully wrapped, as always, to contain the broth.

[Northwest Slobovia]

The Wilted Succubus
Amanda's coffee arrived as Ocho described the city's odd legal system, and she sipped it while listening. The coffee was adequate, but nothing could compare to what she was used to. Occasionally, her gaze slipped from Ocho to the decor behind him. Was the WW2 memorabilia real or replica? Given Sandy's speculations about the Chaos cults, probably real, and probably newer than it seemed, simply lifted from its original time and place and tacked up here.

"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."

Amanda nearly spat out her coffee Ocho as finished up and sputtered incredulously. "Unavailable?? Forget German law, I should be thinking Byzantine!" She swallowed a mouthful of her coffee and set the cup down. "So, what do we know about the other side? Anything? I'm used to knowing my opponents, and having access to lots of public filings about them and their case. It seems that's not the case here. Is it just that the law is convoluted or isn't set up for public inquiry? Or is there a gulf between Bielefeld's law as written and its law as practiced?"

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."

Amanda cut Ocho off before he got too far from a key point. "Wai-wai-wait! A vandalism spree? Everywhere, not just in the Market District? That sounds like an organized crime effort, somebody trying to hide criminal activity." Amanda thought for a second. "Possibility one: somebody was trying to hide a specific minor crime, or several related ones, in a mass of similar crimes. If a dozen businesses were burned, would somebody think it odd if important documents went missing from one? No, that's just random fire damage."

"Possibility two: somebody was trying to keep the police busy while they pulled down a big score. But it would have to be a very big score to justify something like that... something they otherwise couldn't hide. Is there mafia or drug gang activity in the city?"

The Building, Apartment 6C

"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."

Sandy raised his eyebrows as Marcus spoke. No diplomatic immunity was simply unheard of back home. "I can understand there not being embassies if there's no diplomatic immunity, but why were there ever? Or is that a new policy?"

"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."

Sandy chuckled at the young priest, offering him a gentle smile. "I offer to bake to pay the rent, you say it's not needed, but I could bake to put in my community service, which I will need to do. Alright, you should expect we'll follow along later with our things. I'm not sure how long Amanda planned to meet with Ocho, so we may be a while. We'll take the tunnel, if that's OK."

"I'm going to pack up a small alchemy and chemistry kit. It should be enough to get started, if we need to. I'd like to move a couple of large pieces of gear, if the truck has a lift gate or a set of ramps for the back. Otherwise, I'll have other things I'll need to pack instead. My workroom is just in here." Sandy indicate a door, and started walking towards it. "I'll leave the door open, so we can talk while we work. You're welcome to come into the workroom. It's not as exciting as a wizard's workroom might seem from the movies."

Sandy flashed a smile, then opened the workroom door and propped it wide open. He waited a few seconds to see if Marcus had anything to say, then entered the workroom and started opening cabinet doors, trying to remember where they'd squirreled away the boxes for his glassware. Doubtless, they were buried at the back of the least accessible place, since they hadn't expected to need them again so soon.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"Clones don't count if you fix or replace them. Otherwise, I'd have a good case against Bones and Dab." Neil argued through the intercom, remembering no mercy towards his own clones. These Target Garrys were of much lesser awareness knowing only violence and their name. "Hmmm, well, in that case, leave the bullet in and just use the ray. We can examine the results further in the infirmary. Just don't get to close or he'll throttle you." he added after a moment's thought.

[Highfort]

Neste's gentle kiss upon his curled, soft fingers sent a slight shiver down Septimus' spine. The word 'beloved' echoed in his mind and his face flushed red. Even after uniting, it still felt odd and new to him to hear that she loved him. The cyborg hoped he never got used to the feeling; the way his heart leapt every time she said it was intoxicating and addicting. But then, he supposed, that was why love was such a fascinating emotion. That was why it made men and, sometimes, ruined them.

The construct's words held great weight in the cyborg's mind and he nodded repeatedly, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand - on the politics he had once been so excited to enter but now was second-guessing and even dreading as he began to truly size up the task he had before him. Neste's treatment of his hand and fingers weren't helping him any, but he was too enraptured by her to offer any protest.

As Neste pulled away to set herself in a chair, Septimus cleared his throat and adjusted himself, taking his own seat to pick over the lasagna she'd just served him. He hummed for a moment as he thought, processing her suggestions and her confession in equal measure before responding with what he hoped was a level voice.

"Power over the common man would solve this in seconds," Septimus let the words sit in the air as he slipped a slice of pasta, cheese, meat, and tomato sauce into his mouth. Slightly oily. He liked that, but then he'd always been a fan of Italian food. Brutus had grumbled about it whenever the former diplomat had demanded that banquet meals be imported from Terra.

"But, as you've said, we don't have governments to back us up," he sighed, setting down his fork to rub his forehead in annoyance, "The problem with showing them our... normal lives is that all they will focus on is our normal flaws. Unfortunately, while having flaws does make us more approachable, it also provides fodder to burn us. Selfishness, jealousy, weakness - all these things are time bombs that anti-ab players in the city can exploit to divide us and rally the mundane population against us."

"Not that your suggestion wasn't good," he hastily added, realizing her mention of Ambassador Sage was not just idle chatter, "I'm just concerned that perhaps we ought to put our best foot forward rather than showing the full package. They're not quite ready for that yet, I don't think. But I agree that showcasing our abhuman abilities hardly qualifies as our best foot. We need to exemplify human virtues, whatever the citizens consider to be 'virtues' in this civilization, and we need to do so vocally and publicly if we wish to rally meaningful support."

The fork returned to his hands as he shoved more lasagna in his mouth. He chuckled at her final comment and snort, before adding between chews, "If I wanted a silent protector I could've hired a bodyguard myself on my payroll. I don't just... love you, Neste, you're also my friend and a valued colleague. If you have anything you wish to say - barring spontaneous comments in front of the cameras, which bite everyone in the ass regardless of how witty they think they are - then please, do say it."

[Torsiedelle]

"Huh? If we leave the bullet in, it can become infected, or cause other problems. Besides, the point is to heal the wound, not cover it up.", Torii said back. "I'll try and dig the bullet out, and if he attacks me, I'll throttle him back. I've killed people before, I can handle it.", She added.

Well, she'd shot people before. She usually got her ass kicked in a fist fight, like with Octavian, and the main reason she beat those bullies was because she had a baseball bat. That worried her as she carefully reached towards the clone. "H-hey, let me help you, alright?", She asked. The idea that they were testing on humans, even clones, was still disturbing.

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

Taking a seat, Katya awaited Edge and Thriller as she looked over the menu. Of course, she already knew that she'd be asking for Oolong tea -- the stronger/redder one over the other, but as for food, she was curious. She wasn't fond of meatballs, but the Xiaolongbao looked good, like the bigger dumplings she'd see up front at the Chinese places in the Confederacy. She never tried them, however. Well, now that they were in Shencheng, she'd have to try the basket dumplings for sure, along with the tea. Didn't they make them with pork and crab? The thought made her sure of her order.

"Well, let's not take too long.", She said offhandedly. "Edge, Thriller, unless you have other plans. We can discuss more over some midday food."

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Taking a seat, Katya awaited Edge and Thriller as she looked over the menu. Of course, she already knew that she'd be asking for Oolong tea -- the stronger/redder one over the other, but as for food, she was curious. She wasn't fond of meatballs, but the Xiaolongbao looked good, like the bigger dumplings she'd see up front at the Chinese places in the Confederacy. She never tried them, however. Well, now that they were in Shencheng, she'd have to try the basket dumplings for sure, along with the tea. Didn't they make them with pork and crab? The thought made her sure of her order.

"Well, let's not take too long.", She said offhandedly. "Edge, Thriller, unless you have other plans. We can discuss more over some midday food."

"Well i'm not to busy, sure, we can hang out some more!" Edge said while reading the menu, and a idea popped into her mind. a Way to make Katya blush. "Katya, do you think they serve noodles?..If so, want to share a bowl with me?"


Edge smirked,"Ooor...we could spar later on..."

[Torsiedelle]

"Noodles?"

Katya looked at Edge a little weird, but still smiling. "I wouldn't mind sharing a bowl. I'd like to try the noodles, too, and we can split the dumplings. You also mentioned sparring?", She perked up. "I think it'd be fun. I haven't done so since we last visited Gliese, but that was with a sword, and I need to be more active than just swimming or playing dancing games with my sister."

[Germanic Templars]

Taking a seat, Katya awaited Edge and Thriller as she looked over the menu. Of course, she already knew that she'd be asking for Oolong tea -- the stronger/redder one over the other, but as for food, she was curious. She wasn't fond of meatballs, but the Xiaolongbao looked good, like the bigger dumplings she'd see up front at the Chinese places in the Confederacy. She never tried them, however. Well, now that they were in Shencheng, she'd have to try the basket dumplings for sure, along with the tea. Didn't they make them with pork and crab? The thought made her sure of her order.

"Well, let's not take too long.", She said offhandedly. "Edge, Thriller, unless you have other plans. We can discuss more over some midday food."

Thriller nodded in agreement as he took his seat across from Katya.

He knew what he wanted before even sitting down, assuming that they had General Tso's chicken or anything closely related to the dish, with green tea as his drink of choice. Then again, his assumptions were based on places he went to over 100 years ago, his time, so relatively same thing, but probably not so, in his mind, for all he could remember about Chinese food was China Town, not knowing much differences between food, then again, all Chinese food looked the same to him.

"I don't have other plans... Well other then to make sure Max doesn't try attack one of the residence because he thinks that one of the magic users are a "meta" and he still thinks he is in constant work mode... Poor guy." Thriller folded his hands on the table, resting his forearms as his elbows hanged off. Thriller looked out the window, "Well, actually, I think I was going to see if he could go vote for me in my place too. Heh, might be fun to see him to something, in some form of freedom to him I guess."

[Swith Witherward]

Ocho listened to Amanda's suggestions, his ear flicking as she put forth her interesting hypothesis. It was all speculation, of course, but her suggestions would make sense in any other town.

"I wouldn't call it a vandalism 'spree'," he rumbled, a frown deepening the ample skin lining his eyes. "It seems excessive because you're new to the area. It might even seem excessive to half the people living in the Building. This is Bielefeld, though. It's populated by the same people that once occupied Vaffelhelm. A great many of them hold no love for abs. It was the abhumans that preyed on their loved ones' bodies as they lay in funeral parlors and morgues. It was abs that destroyed property, or created loud noises, or unleashed foul magic, or crowded their harbor with submarines. The prejudice has always been here, if only one looks for it. The closest the Residents got to it was last year's Valentine's Day carnival. It came as such a shock to the Resident teens that anyone would single them out solely based upon what a few of them were."

The thade gave up all pretense of finishing his beverage. "Amanda, most people in the Building never bother to pay attention to anything but themselves. An increase in petty crimes against a group of people immediately following a horrific event attributed to that group is... well, probably just that. There will be more the next time anyone from the abhuman group does something that displeases these bigots. People use anything for an excuse to act upon their hatred. Further, even the Residents don't take action unless something directly affects them. Most of them are unaware of the abhuman layoffs. None of them seem to have done anything about the Transylvanian Killer; I can't recall any of them fussing over the werewolves that ended up in the morgue over the last year or two."

He sighed. "You're welcome to inquire more on Sweet's behalf. Maybe there is something more to his death? Maybe I've become too jaded in my old age. Oh, don't mind my mood. My species are grumpy."



"There has never been diplomatic immunity that I'm aware of," Marcus set the last dish in the drainboard and draped the damp towel to dry. "There's a lot of nations out there that don't accept the Vienna Convention at all. Plus Vaffelhelm went through some shi-... er, stuff, yeah... with other nations. I was little back then, and I don't remember all the particulars to it."

The boy rolled his sleeves back down as he approached the workroom. He supposed Sandy's space would be far less tech than what was to be found in his father's. If anything, the boy was hoping to see lots of ancient books rather than cast iron caldrons or funny jars with animal parts floating in them. Marcus loved to read; he could scan pages for later translation, if need be.

He leaned a hip and shoulder against the workroom door, idly watching the man pack up his kits. "I wonder if Giovenith or Klaus can make you a hammerspace box to put your stuff in. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what Giovenith's pockets are. It could really come in handy, especially if you have a lot of small things to cart back and forth. Klaus would do it for a song. I mean, a literal song. It has to be a good one, though. You gotta put your heart into it. But yeah, the truck has a lift gate."

His eyes darted this way and that as the lad visually explored Sandy's slice of the world.

---

"I avoid the media," Neste nodded reassuringly, still blushing a bit from Septimus' words. "I doubt anyone will stick a microphone in front of my snout any time soon. If they do, they'll get a standard Swithwardian construct answer."

Neste's demure smile broadened into a grin as her mind drifted to matters in an entirely different dimension. She munched her salad and chuckled at the thought of the insanity back home.

"Septimus, when it comes to putting our best foot forward, nothing has my nation beat. That's not something to be proud of. The truth of the matter is, we invest a great deal of effort into fitting in with the rest of the world. It's a very well fabricated normalcy, and you'd never realize that you were walking in an alien society as long as you remained in the tourist areas. I hated it. It's a damn theme park."

Her lips pursed. "That's not a way to live. Complete dishonestly as a form of preservation? That doesn't sit right with me, but it's this form of "hiding in plain sight" that so many creatures utilize in order to survive. I'm not saying we Residents should show all our flaws. I'm not saying we hide all our strengths. I guess it's finding a balance, and portraying ourselves and those virtues to the rest of society, like you said."

Easier said than done. Neste trapped a black olive with her fork, pinning it between tine and plate until finally spearing it through. She felt as helpless as the olive itself. It was a depressing thought reinforced by the map in the government building downtown. The lizard's eyes sought out the television screen just in time to catch the tail end of the news scroll. The gap had closed, and now the projections for 13 were too close to call.

"Look! Oh, look at that, but it means we have a chance! Ha!" Meal (and social graces) forgotten, the construct trilled her pleasure and softly drummed an upbeat cadence on the table's edge with her fingertips.

"I'm sure Minerva and Ocho will want to tiger team before the rally starts, and we should drag in Ocho's assistant," she laughed. "You should shower and grab a nice suit. I need to grab a proper outfit and pin up my hair - I'm more comfortable blending in as a human."

What she left off was her fear that her species would cloud the public's view of their newly elected official.

[Highfort]

Septimus wolfed down his lasagna while he had the chance, listening and nodding at intervals as Neste spoke. Her hatred of pretending surprised him - but then, he wasn't one for pretending either, he just saw it as a profitable asset for annexing worlds - and he cocked his head slightly in curiosity as she derided the Swithwardian practices as a waste of life. Hiding in plain sight, though it was a great shame and an even greater risk - for if they were caught, they would be seen as traitors - seemed to him to be the best option.

But that was why the good representative had advisers, of course. No man was an island and any opinion was welcome to be pondered. He supposed she did have a point - pretending would only bite their ass in the long run if they slipped up, and in any case it was no permanent way of life. To preserve their culture they had to be at least somewhat honest, even if it did compromise the vision of perfect virtue and example he had for the abhuman citizens of the city.

Following her eyes, the cyborg turned toward the television screen and noted the results with muted delight, "Hm, a chance, yes. Whether that chance will actually produce worthwhile results for the non-humans of this city remains to be seen. The bill still had a massive wellspring of support and I have no doubt those voting for it are going to insist on making things difficult for us in Bielefield."

Finishing the last slippery noodle with a quick spear of his fork, Septimus nodded at her suggestion before cracking a smile through the calm gaze he'd learned to perfect as a diplomat, "Human it is; what they don't know won't necessarily hurt them and... well, they'll be able to see your best foot forward as a non-human once all this calms down. I'll see if I have a spare of my Confederation outfit, I want the people of this city to make sure they remember the day a Brother of the Confederation took their political world by storm."

He hoped he was projecting more confidence than he felt. Truth be told, without his processor there to help him through the motions, he was scared shitless. Not to mention, Amanda had made an excellent point earlier in the day. Even if she had been rather annoying in doing so, where he was days before the election would no doubt be a topic for reporters to grill him on and he wasn't sure he had a satisfactory answer on hand to placate them. He gulped as he stood up and disposed of the plastic utensils and styrofoam boxes.

It was showtime.

[The Carlisle]

Kale nodded. She dug around into her bags, getting various items and setting out to cook. She thought of what Yuna was doing. She didn't know her much, but she was interested in the friend she was seeing. More people to know and talk with was Kale's line of thinking. Of course, not now. Kale thought of asking Yuna later about it.

The dish took about 15 minutes to prepare. Kale worked faster than normal, as she didn't want to take up too much of Drova's time. It was only a dish. But it turned out well, despite the speeding. It was a classic and simple quinoa dish she learned a long time back. Kale served a portion onto a small plate for Drova.

"Here yulou go!" She said, setting it in front of him,"Hope you like it!"

[Northwest Slobovia]

"There has never been diplomatic immunity that I'm aware of," Marcus set the last dish in the drainboard and draped the damp towel to dry. "There's a lot of nations out there that don't accept the Vienna Convention at all. Plus Vaffelhelm went through some shi-... er, stuff, yeah... with other nations. I was little back then, and I don't remember all the particulars to it."

Sandy muttered, "Not part of the Vienna Convention? And they're still willing to set up embassies? That's... very strange." He shook his head at the bizarreness of the idea, but it wasn't his problem.

"I wonder if Giovenith or Klaus can make you a hammerspace box to put your stuff in. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what Giovenith's pockets are. It could really come in handy, especially if you have a lot of small things to cart back and forth. Klaus would do it for a song. I mean, a literal song. It has to be a good one, though. You gotta put your heart into it. But yeah, the truck has a lift gate."

His eyes darted this way and that as the lad visually explored Sandy's slice of the world.

Sandy's workroom was similar to the way it was before, but it had been straightened up. The books had been taken off the desks, and the dustbunny, its cold iron "cage", and Giovenith's bird now sat on a shelf over the computer desk.

Sandy looked look at Marcus as he squatted in front of a low cabinet, packing up something that looked like the unnatural offspring of an alembic and a plate of spaghetti: a round vessel joined to a tangled mass of twisting glass tubing. "Hammerspace? I'm not familiar with... Oh! I think I know what you mean! We called those 'wizards' purses'. People here can make those?? All the ones I knew about were very old, and the secret of making them was lost during the Inquisition." Satisfied that the vessel was properly fitted in its foam-padded case, Sandy closed and latched the lid, and put it in a large cardboard box resting on a dolly. "That's the last of core equipment I'll need."

He stood up, stretched, and carefully kicked the dolly along with him as he walked over to the workroom refrigerator. "Good, a lift gate. That means we can take this. Unpacking and repacking everything in the fridge would take a while, and I hate to take the best stuff out of the preservation enchantments the fridge has. So long as it stays upright, the spells in it will prevent anything from being damaged, even bouncing along in the back of the truck." Sandy stooped to reach under the fridge and fiddled with something on the bottom of it. There was a sharp snapping sound, and Sandy pulled out a large lock from under it. "Locked to the floor", he noted, putting the lock on a table. "It's on rollers, so all we have to do is roll it and the dolly to the freight elevator and then out to wherever you've parked the truck."

As Sandy maneuvered the fridge through the workroom door, he added, "If we get a chance this evening, I'll show you some of the good stuff. It's interesting reading, at least if you can read Greek or Arabic." Sandy winked at Marcus; the tech-priest had been looking for something he wasn't seeing in the workroom, and if it was magical and worth anything, it was in the fridge... or rather, in the safe hidden in the fridge.

Sandy followed the young man's lead as they moved the box and refrigerator down the hall, through the freight elevator, and into the lobby. "Hello, again, Giovenith. Oh, and Pippa-Michelle! Hi, I'm Sandy." Sandy sounded casual, but he was a bit star-struck at talking to the product of somebody else's magic. Free will! If I'd had any doubt about Giovenith's claim to divinity, that answered it: souls were the work of God... or, it seemed, gods.

[Cerillium]

Neste offered a parting kiss to Septimus. Her lips lingered a moment upon his to remind him of all the ways they could celebrate later that night, and then she was gone to prepare herself for the rally. It was Minerva that knocked upon his door a half hour later.

"Ready, Representative?" the smiling cultist leader called to him from the hall. She was attired once more in her black business suit, her ginger locks trapped and tucked into an austere bun.

She cast her eyes about and found a perfectly serviceable shadow made by the potted ficus near the lifts. It would do. She sighed and called through the door, "We'll meet up with Ocho and Amanda first to sort last minute issues. Your Neste will join us there, don't worry. Shadow travel doesn't suit her."

---

The Federal Ministry of Economic Cooperation and Development dispatched its courier. Their decision wouldn't solve the problem overnight, although the problem itself had arisen in a matter of minutes and the fatal blow had come within an hour. No, these things took time to mend. Their decision would help put the tanked local economy back on track. It was a small step towards healing.

Meanwhile agents armed with paper and tape headed towards the abandoned research facility and the self-sabotaged auto manufacturing plant.

---

Wizards were weird. There was no better way to describe them. It didn't matter if they had wide brim hats and bushy eyebrows, or were coated in stuff like some of the technomancers at the Observatory, they were a strange breed of being that seemed to have borderline hoarder personalities. Not that this was necessarily bad but it made moving their base of operations more difficult.

Marcus wiped sweat beads from his forehead and leaned against the fridge while Sandy called out to Giovenith and Pippa-Michelle. The golem appeared no worse for wear but Marcus wouldn't be happy until she was surrounded by caring Brothers and thick walls. He suppressed a shudder and pushed aside the horrible vision of anti-ab punks tearing the beautiful paper mache girl apart.

"We're just gonna load up the truck," he nodded.

---

The street venders began to pack up their wares as the day drifted into evening. Many businesses in the Market District closed early in order for merchants to attend the celebratory rally in Memorial Park. A few places, such as the restaurants, remained open to cater to hungry patrons.

Nila stepped off the trolley just as the church's clock tower struck 5 PM. She would drop off groceries before meeting up with Neste. Scel and Buttons had already placed themselves into position but the small pilot hoped to take advantage of a few sparse moments before they went on duty.

[Giovenith]

"Mmmmm," Pippa-Michelle pulled a thick woolen scarf to her face and shifted her eyes to the side, feeling deeply unnerved by the going-on's around her. Creator had explained to her well enough what was going to happen, but that didn't make it any less frightening, especially since she wasn't sure if Creator would be there with her and knew for sure that Pretzels wouldn't.

"She can't directly speak," Giovenith informed Sandy, rubbing the golem's back in comfort. "She was created out of scrap paper and can repeat the words and phrases written on those scraps, but aside from that and a few mumbles, no real conversation abilities. Most golems can't even do that though, most will just give you a creepy silent stare until you tell them to do something. She can understand most basic things, just don't expect her to get politics or magic or anything that complicated."

Despite being made out of paper mache, Pippa-Michelle bore no outside resemblance to anything but a fully flesh woman. A lovely one, at that. Giovenith had used various magazine models for reference, resulting in a 20-something-seeming year old that stood at 5'9", had nicely conditioned waist-length auburn hair (truly a high price wig permanently glued to the thing's head), and pale dollish features framing blue eyes. The golem had no innate mental concept of aesthetic or style, but Giovenith always made sure to dress her in well-to-do, fashionable wear. Currently she was dressed nice but unusually, bundled up in layers despite the warm day--it didn't bother her, Pippa felt no discomfort at cold or heat, but it did make her feel safer, like a security blanket.

"Got it," Giovenith nodded, holding up two duffle bags, one a hammerspace containing clothes and necessities, the other the very few items that 'belonged' to Pippa-Michelle (her polaroid camera, the ring Prim gave her, etc.). "I'll help you out."

[Monfrox]

"Wait...you can talk in my head?" She raised an eyebrow, before realizing the important part of what Nick had said. "I'm bleeding?"

Brit scratched her head, but she felt something damp and sticky. That wasn't like that before. She pulled her hand away to look at it and her eyes went wide. Blood stained her palm and fingers, thickly.

"O-oh...ohhhh.......OHHHH....OHHHH FUCK!"

Brit sat down and thought.

"Okay...okay okay okayokayokayokay....PSSSSSSHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh whattodowhattodowhattodo HMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...."

She looked around as her mind and heart raced. She was bleeding. From the head. But conscious. And alive. Head wounds bled a lot. Naturally. She had been in this situation before. She had gotten staples for it. There was no possible way to go to a hospital. She had no insurance to speak of. No way there would take her. The observatory was also out of the question. What would she say to them? How would Brother Adrastus react to this? She'd make a fool of herself by showing up with a self-injury, trying to be his go-to NCO. There was only one option. Break out the First Aid Kit until she could get something better. Right now, she needed to stop the bleeding. She took a second to ponder about the succubus nurses she'd read about. Were they still around? Ohhhh man....wait, what? Oh yeah. She was BLEEDING!

"Okay, TO MY ROOM!" She declared, pointing out to the dining room and making for her apartment.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"Huh? If we leave the bullet in, it can become infected, or cause other problems. Besides, the point is to heal the wound, not cover it up.", Torii said back. "I'll try and dig the bullet out, and if he attacks me, I'll throttle him back. I've killed people before, I can handle it.", She added.

Well, she'd shot people before. She usually got her ass kicked in a fist fight, like with Octavian, and the main reason she beat those bullies was because she had a baseball bat. That worried her as she carefully reached towards the clone. "H-hey, let me help you, alright?", She asked. The idea that they were testing on humans, even clones, was still disturbing.

Gary lunged at her, ignoring the pain for a moment with arms outstretched trying to grab her. He fell onto his face due to the crippling injury. "Yes, the point is to see the limits of the healing capabilities, and how are we supposed to know how well it does with foreign objects and bacteria. You can't make an omelette without breaking a few dozen eggs." Gretta said from one of the booths as she hopped over with a doctor's bag in hand.

The sight of her only enraged the Gary as he took another swipe at Torii. Gretta shook her head with a clicking of the tongue, the range was hardly the right setting so she came to help Torii examine the clone in the infirmary.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"She can't directly speak," Giovenith informed Sandy, rubbing the golem's back in comfort. "She was created out of scrap paper and can repeat the words and phrases written on those scraps, but aside from that and a few mumbles, no real conversation abilities. Most golems can't even do that though, most will just give you a creepy silent stare until you tell them to do something. She can understand most basic things, just don't expect her to get politics or magic or anything that complicated."

Sandy nodded along as Giovenith spoke, glancing back and forth between her and her golem. Faint colors swam along Pippa-Michelle's surface in Sandy's Sight, but Giovenith's magic was too sophisticated for him to See anything useful in it. He knew what he'd Heard as Pegasus, though, and he gave the godling a mysterious smile. "Perhaps you underestimate your own strength. But that may be a subject for later."

Sandy gave Marcus and Giovenith a hand moving his refrigerator. It was heavy with the built-in safe, but it was on rollers. He and Amanda managed to get it into their apartment in Philadelphia, since the witch who made it for Sandy felt she'd done enough work enchanting it in the first place. Moving it in had been their problem.

Sandy threw his weight into pushing the fridge, and the three of them got it onto the truck's lift gate without too much difficulty. It went easily into the back of the truck, but Sandy left it up to Marcus to tie it down; he knew better than to try to figure out how to secure things in other people's vehicles. Instead, he climbed out of the truck, rolled his box of alchemetical glassware and supplies over, and hoisted it in as well. He finished his packing by tossing in the dolly, inverting it so it wouldn't roll around, then helped Giovenith with her bags.

"We'll see all of you later." Sandy wasn't one for drawn-out goodbyes, but wanted to see the others off anyway.

[Highfort]

Septimus let out a breathy sigh as the tingling of Neste's lips on his own lingered on after the wily lizard construct departed to prepare for the rally. Heading back to the bedroom with renewed resolve, the cyborg picked through the various outfits in his closet before eventually procuring a suit with a gold-trimmed red sash. Demens' insistence that Septimus' wardrobe fit his old patron's colors disturbed him slightly, but then he supposed he should be thankful that the conspicuously-absent landlord had taken the time to furnish his apartment for him given that the cyborg had dropped out of a warp portal unannounced one day.

Setting the clothes on a railing in the bathroom, Septimus turned on the hot water and cleaned himself of the sweat and fluids from the last few amorous hours, his muscles relaxing in the hot water as he scrubbed his body clean. After attending to other toiletry and hygienic needs and applying some much-needed cologne to mask the noticeable metallic odor from his cybernetic eye, the cyborg donned his suit and sash and went to go answer the knocking at the door.

Opening the front door, Septimus offered a reserved smile beneath dull eyes and parted hair to the ever-ready cultist captain, "As ready as I'll ever be, Captain Blackwater. I believe a last minute meeting would be helpful, yes. Hopefully Mr. Ono and Ms. Bela can offer me something to work with for my acceptance speech this evening. As you may have seen from the other night, working off-the-cuff isn't my strong suit."

Letting out a sigh as he readied himself to jump into the plant's shadow only to reappear, disoriented, in the bar, "Alright, let's do this... shadow travel thing."

[Primordial Luxa]

Primordial was currently preoccupied with a surgery of some unfortunate victim from another time or place. It was hard for him to exactly remember where he got most of his subjects but it never exactly mattered either. He had rarely run into a problem with collecting bodies since normally he only stole people without relatives or who were travelling and wouldn't be missed for a very long time. His usual method was the rig boarding houses, bed and breakfasts, motels and other seedy living places with Alien Angles that allowed him to slowly erode the sanity of those living their and then appear at will. It was a very common tactic of Luxans who relied on getting subjects from around them and was inspired by the story "The Dreams in the Witch House". Other Luxans who could afford lots of slaves or who still lived in the Luxan Empire could instead but their subjects and while Primordial could have he preferred not to for no logical reason.

He was in the middle of peeling back the man's (or woman's, it was hard to tell when they were in this state) magnetic field with his hands an a large rune etched knife. In the background their was a record playing a chant which helped remove the pesky intrinsic fields that got in the way of this complex surgery but they paused when Hollow approached. "Do you know when she's going to arrive?" Hollow asked in a cryptic fashion

"Soon. And you really should call her mother you know how much she enjoy's that." Primordial snapped his fingers and the chanting started up again but much quieter.

"Fuck you shes a distant manipulative bitch and she barely in my life."

Primordial smiled and mocking said "But you both have that in common."

[Torsiedelle]

Spending a few hours testing on some clones, even if they were deranged, as really unnerving for Torii, who seemed more and more upset as she worked. Still, she worked on, and was trying her best to adjust the medical device and learn what she could. It wasn't ethical, but she was still working, at least.

"Hey, how long have we been at this?", She asked, standing a few feet back from the strapped-down clones. They were scary.

.........

"Sounds like a good plan.", Katya nodded. "Unfortunately, neither I nor my sister can vote, being foreigners, but no problem. Still, it is rather upsetting to learn that nobody hardly has citizenship, considering how many helped save the country from doom. I'd at least expect some of the cultists, or the Nikanors to have citizenship, considering the government thought it important to bag them for jobs, and even create a branch for the former."

She shrugged and looked around, motivated by nothing in particular. "I wonder if they'll ever need jobs again? I planned to open my own business, but that never went through. I guess now that I'm not worrying about a kid, and since the situation here would be great for it, I could put that vacant warehouse to good use. I don't know."


Talking carried for a little while, but lunchtime at Shencheng wouldn't last for hours. The group would have found their way back home, ready for the rally and whatever else they had to look forward to.

[TotallyNotEvilLand]

Oh, gods damn it all. Adri opened her eye blearily as she heard both an alarm and the clock tower go off at 5 PM. After looking at the small clock on her desk, she confirmed that yes, it was time for the rally. A few hours earlier, she'd corresponded with Byron over telephone to meet there and talk afterwards. Despite his unwillingness to talk about it in general conversation, Adri was aware of Byron's storied history with her estranged elder sister through some of his more autobiographical ramblings in writing. It felt a little cruel to make a friend for selfish purposes, but she was sure she could work off the evilness of that deed with the mission. Slowly, she scratched her chin and made her way out of the still-empty mission, locking the door behind her and flicking her keys into a pocket. It was time to visit the rally.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

"Shite, it's 5 already?" The Melanth looked at the bottom corner of his laptop's display. Yeah, it was. Byron let out an extended sigh. He'd spent the last several hours with an extended case of writer's block, and hadn't got anything done besides a curse-filled introduction. "'Ell with it, if this passes, THEN I can go on an anti-democracy rant." He shut down the miniature computer and left it on his bed, slinging his pack onto his back, with his rifle inside in case things happened to go sour at the rally.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

After parting with Rmytliin a few hours previous, Elka had wandered around the park for a few hours before hearing the church bell go off... She had a thing to go to at 5, didn't she? She stood still and scratched her ear. It did seem like something was being set up at the park. Quickly and somewhat cautiously, she ran off to the edge of the park to figure out where the crowd was going to set up.

[Fvaarniimar]

A very confused Nick followed, as he still really didn't have anything better to do and still figured Brit probably would do a better job than he at treatment. To a human, the red of the blood would stand out, scream, "Something is wrong!" To a cat who saw a world of blues and greens and grays, it was the fluid dribbling from the cut which was cause for concern. Another would - perhaps did - note red blood on carpet or wood or tile or clay or stone. Nick noted the flow of it - too much.

Before long, they arrived at Brit's door (Brit perhaps sneezing.) It occurred to Nick that maybe - as Brit was allergic - it would be polite of him to use the collar.

(He still had to talk to Klaus, didn't he? Later, perhaps.)

"What now?"

--

Kwa'a had wanted to head home and get to work on their clothing. Rmwtyliin - although she was polite about it - had wanted very much to return to the festival. Being young and diminutive did not preclude Rmwtyliin from being quite self-sufficient. In kinder times, Kwa'a would have been perfectly willing to split up, at least provided that her ward had a plan to get home - which she had provided.

"Absolutely not." It was too dangerous! Kwa'a had not noticed any quality likely to make Rmwtyliin a target, but the girl was a foreigner and associated with EBs. Kwa'a herself might escape notice, but Duncan? Even if only the rodent were to be targeted (which would be unfair regardless) Rmwtyliin would be on her own with no translator.

And so they headed to the festival again, with a promise from Rmwtyliin to cooperate with fitting. They had planned to return in late afternoon, but - hearing about the rally - decided to remain longer. It made sense, after all, to return with the crowd.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Gretta looked up from the infirmary scanner that was held over one of the Garys. "A couple hours, but it looks like the programming is working. Doesn't interfere with antiseptics, but it will fuse flesh with foreign objects. So as long as you don't use it on cyborgs, you should be golden." Gretta answered as she prodded a Gary with her claw which prompted the clone to snarl.

"They will be moved to long-term living chambers to see if any side effects appear over time. Like if the healing reverts or something along those lines." she added as she put the scanner away and wrote down some notes. "As this is your personal project be sure to check on them often. These canaries in the coal mine should display potential problems." Gretta said as she moved the scanner over another Gary.

[Torsiedelle]

"I don't think I get the coal mine metaphor.", Torii glanced to Gretta. "Do you mean that one should show problems? Anyways, I guess I have no choice but to check them every now and then.", She shrugged. "That's science. So, what do you think? Maybe we're done for today, or is there more to be done? The election is today, you know."

[Monfrox]

Though Brit was allergic to cats, it only made her start sniffling and running if it got into her system from more than just touch. Still, she'd have to tend to it eventually, but this was not the time for it.

"Now? Now uh....well FIRST off, let's go get this out."

Brit hurried over to her closet and retrieved a big olive drab colored backpack that had two pink ribbons tied on two straps of it. She brought it over to her bathroom and opened it up, retrieving two big plastic bags: One filled with bandages and band-aids and the like, and the other with ointments, pills, and similar applicants.

"Okay, you're my eyes. I can't see what it's like back there, so you'll have to tell me how it is. Still, we gotta clean the wound before anything."

She grabbed a rag and poured water over it to soak it before taking it and rubbing her hair to get the blood out.

"Shiiiiiit, I'm gonna need a new shirt, and someone to stitch me up, maybe. Gah, fuck. Why's it always me. Why do I have to do stupid shit like this all the damn time. Can't ever have any peace around here." She said to herself as she sat on the floor, tending her head.

This was a sobering reminder of how fragile as a mundane she was. She didn't have the ability to regenerate or heal herself through magic like others. Even the smallest of wounds required a lot of attention. One thing was for sure, though, was that she'd have to spend the next few days with a bandage around her head. Boy, that's gonna be fun to explain to the rest of the others. 'Hey, what'd you do?' they would ask, and she would have to respond 'I fell on a knife'. How embarrassing.