Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

[Swith Witherward]

Neste sat on the bed's edge and waited until the world stopped rabidly spinning. Her mind couldn't reconcile the imagined image of Rodney affixed to a wall by plastic utensils. She found the notion oddly pleasant and yet revolting.

Her thoughts drifted and she reached out once again to touch the broken link between herself and her exo. Each press was a salt-encrusted fingertip slipping into a raw wound, only the nerves surrounding it would never numb. The construct closed her eyes and shivered, and the room's rotation slowed.

"I should've done better for you - we all should have. I'm sorry it's come to this, but I promise that when you awaken, we'll get to the bottom of what happened. I must go, but I'll return to see to you in the evening. Be good, Neste. You've done well... love."

These replayed words had come from another tether. Neste had lingered there during her torpor, content to wait out the storm. She hadn't expected anyone to come. She had trusted that Septimus would remain safe. After all, the tether had not snapped; he was still alive. Emotional flavors swirled along the passage, most of them tinged by regret and sorrow. She had felt his sobs even while cocooned in the warmth of her subconscious.

The processor had recorded it all but she would replay it later. The details didn't matter. Her thoughts focused on his emotional pain instead. They had done this to him. They had no regard for anyone but themselves. He had put himself out there, trying to do good by them, and they obviously hadn't given his well-being any regard. Typical. Typical asinine humans. Life was so much easier when they were expendable resources rather than cherished special snowflakes. Oh, they clustered together when shit got real. Yes indeed. They'd clump in the corners and latch on to each other, salty tears spilling down their cheeks as they realized Death had come to pay them a visit due to their own impudence. But, if you didn't belong - if you were a construct or a solitary tumbler outside their immediate community - they left you to flail in the wind. Or, worse, they tripped you and let you buy them time. They let him flail, a victim of bottled up emotions, and they left her to die.

Neste shook the rancor from her head before even realizing that the protocols dampening this particular sort of resentment were no longer functioning. Of course they weren't. Logic was dead, and so too were the programs that kept all her sisterhood restrained and meek. The slave had been freed from witherwardian control and her thoughts were her own again.

Her eyes blinked open and a blurry pair of familiar shoes came into view. Neste's head tipped back. She followed the cut of his clothing upwards until her gaze alighted upon his face.

Septimus.

Here was the first man in her life to ever offer an open hand. His ignorance of her species caused him to mistake her as a citizen rather than a tool. There wasn't fear in his eyes back then, nor did he torment her. There weren't any restraining collars when it came to him, nor any cruel white sticks to deliver shocks if she disagreed. He had merely spoken kindly to her, offering to share details about his home and to ask her about her own. Programming had kept her from sharing the darker aspects; in fact, those subroutines had implanted scripted words once or twice. Yet he trusted her and, in return, he had gained her trust. More so, he had gained her respect.

Neste wobbled as she rose from the bed. The sheet slipped to the floor to reveal the patchwork slashes left by ruthless grass blades. These would heal in time, perhaps. It didn't matter to her. The only person that did was standing in front of her, and she approached him on shaky legs in order to envelope him in a tight embrace. The room spun around them, but he remained steadfast. Her anchor. Her friend and lover. She inhaled his scent and allowed it to banish her fears.

"You did just fine by me." The words were raspy sounds formed by pale lips and a dry tongue.

Her snout pressed upward to rest against the underside of his mandible. Neste savored the feel of the muscles under his skin and the beautiful mound of his adam's apple against her cheek. The moon had risen, as her sisters would say, and it had bathed her heart in its silvery luminescence.

"When we're done for the day, can we go back home and have some wine? Will you tell me about life on Kashtilag? About the ash, and the volcanoes?" Tears moistened her eyes, seeping from the corners of her lids to wet his skin. "I'd like to hear more about it. I'd like to block out today's memories a while."

[Fvaarniimar]

...what could be spoken of now? Rmwtyliin had little wish to continue with the subject. It frightened her and...she kind of felt bad. Besides, it was hardly a good conversation topic and Katya had said she did not really know. But what was?

And then a topic was presented, or perhaps a task. Thankyouthankyouthankyou... And then she realized that the work was simple enough that it was hardly an excuse to cease their chat - and it might be detrimental for it to end with an upsetting topic. Um. Aesthetics varied... The armchair she perceived as green velvet might look nice near the corner to her left of the window, but natives of...the Building's normal place would maybe see it differently. "Katya...and Kelly, I think that the chair I have been using might be nice..." she walked to the spot in question, raising her voice half-consciously... "Here. Maybe facing -" she pointed away from the corner, arm a few degrees from parallel to the window. "I am not from here. Do you think so as well?"

It was considerably more effort than was likely required, save if they were to host dignitaries holding at least similar status here to that Emm held in Fvaarniimar. She had helped with such affairs at home, however... It was a little boring to spend that much time on placing furnishings, but it could be rewarding and, more relevantly, it was a very safe topic of conversation which still might help her understand the culture!

---

A friendly meow - still more instinctual than using the collar - and a nuzzle to reciprocate the stroke... Clever? Nick adjusted his nose.

<Thank you!>
---

Hair now quite clean, Kwa'a lay back and played with the bubbles which had remained in the tub, idly swirling water around.

[Highfort]

Obligations.

Of course, they all had obligations - roles to play. It would be deluded to assume that he could just throw his away because his girlfriend had gotten hurt. That was the domain of lesser, smaller people - beneath the rank of a former diplomat and researcher. People like him, they had to stand up when they were pushed down - even if they didn't feel like standing.

He'd shed his tears; he'd said his piece. The wheel of time had turned once more, and these scant few moments with Neste were quickly waning away. The cyborg barely felt Klaus' gesture of reassurance on his shoulder.

Neste rose from the bed, revealing a beautiful formed marred by ugly wounds that may soon turn to scars. She shook as she approached him, and for a moment he feared she might topple over from the effort of merely shuffling across the floor. As she gripped him in a warm embrace that was just as much about the moment as it was about keeping herself upright, Septimus found himself gripping her right back. His fingers dug into her scales as he kept her balanced and savored the contact. Perhaps these hugs he could get used to.

"Shh..." he intoned softly as Neste buried her snout in the crook of his neck and he blew warm breath across her forehead, "When the sun sets again, we'll have wine... And I'll tell you all about the Schola, about the Board and the old days... Shhh... Kashtilag wasn't all just volcanoes and ash. Beneath the hostile surface was a diamond, a glittering jewel in the middle of an unforgiving world."

Like her. An oasis in a desert; a morsel of bread in a famine; a bullet in a firefight - she was the difference between life and death, and life was all the more sweet with her presence gracing his. And it would be all the more dull with her inevitable absence. Klaus was right.

He had work to do.

The heat that radiated off of the lizard was intoxicating. Even here, in the harsh lights and cool sterility of the clinic, she was a star; himself, a mere asteroid. He was inevitably drawn into remaining near her. Perhaps one day he would melt into everything she was, and they would be one.

But not now. There was a meeting going on upstairs. All the sacrifices she had made - all the sacrifices they'd all made last night and in the wee hours of the morning - would be for naught if they didn't capitalize on their defense against the Fiends. The advantage was laying there, waiting to be pressed upon - hot iron waiting to be struck. And though he was loathe to part with her, even for a short time, he knew that the penalty for wasting away the hours curled up with the woman of his affections would be collected in the suffering and death of many more innocents - Resident and villager alike.

Letting his arms fall to his side, the tips of his fingers still aching to run themselves across her scaled flesh, he whispered, "We can block them out tonight. But now, we have work. Orders need to be handed out, people contacted, and we need to figure out just what the fuck is going on. We were caught asleep; let's show whoever messed with us that our ire is not so easily dispersed."

Capturing her face in his hands, he pulled her from the embrace - though he allowed the construct to steady herself against him, and added, "And fine isn't good enough. I do fine for my superiors; I do better for my friends... And as for you... Nothing short of perfection will suffice, Neste Trilb."

He licked his lips as her name rolled off of them.

The moment passed.

"The clothes should be underneath the bed," the Representative steadied her with an arm around her shoulders as he gestured toward the hospital cot, "I'm not sure where you're needed, but if you want breakfast then you can come with me to the meeting in the kitchen. No doubt they'll already be parceling out orders to the Residents, and I don't intend to be left out."

[Torsiedelle]

"Only a bit?"

The bacon was piled onto a plate, and tossed into a microwave to heat up. "Bacon is awesome, even when it's not cooked at home. My sister makes a lot when we have breakfast."

She noticed Klaus, and smiled back. She didn't want to be rude. She was feeling strange, still, trying to behave normally after a big fight, and with Drova and her walking in, holding hands.

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

Katya hopped up, not one to argue over a simple request such as that. She took her own seat and started to move it back. "By the window sounds nice, I suppose", She told Rmwtyllin, "Though I'm more a fan of having it all at an angle near the walls, kind of pointing in the same direction, like a theatre? And maybe giving the window a bit of space, to let light in and open it up a bit."

[The BranRiech]

"Only a bit?"

The bacon was piled onto a plate, and tossed into a microwave to heat up. "Bacon is awesome, even when it's not cooked at home. My sister makes a lot when we have breakfast."

She noticed Klaus, and smiled back. She didn't want to be rude. She was feeling strange, still, trying to behave normally after a big fight, and with Drova and her walking in, holding hands.

"Well, maybe a few strips."

Drova nodded, pouring a small handful of different fruits, some grapes and strawberries for the most part. Tops were clicked back on, and the fruits were tossed back into the fridge along with the yogurt. Gripping a spoon in his hand, Drova reached into the cup and stirred up the contents, creating a simple parfait from the contents.

"And I think I've tried it before, at least once. I don't think I remember though." He admitted, feeling more than a little awkward. While he admired and appreciated Torii for nearly every aspect of her, they just had different experiences. There were thing she'd done that Drova would never be able or willing to experience. He'd never taken a life as she had, he'd never been on as many adventures as her. His expression strained a little, trying to remain calm.

[Monfrox]

Mon couldn't help but giggle and snicker a bit. Aphrodisiac? Really? What kind of last name was that? Did he chose it himself? Quite flashy to be named after an item made to instill pleasure and ecstasy in one's body. He certainly would have his work cut out for living up to that. Even Varona's eyes widened a little bit with just a tinge of pink dotting her very pale cheeks. Still, as he went on, Mon seemed a bit hesitant of him. A General by title, sure, but he would also have to prove himself a worthy and knowing one to the rest of the Residents.

"Hence the enlightened ruler is heedful, and the good general full of caution. This is the way to keep a country at peace and an army intact." Mon said in an almost reciting manner.

---

Kelly had just finished putting her Peacemakers back together when Klaus called for her. She did a double take at him. Oh sure, he may not have been wearing the Nazi symbols, but there was no way she could mistake that uniform. She stared at him inquisitively as he walked here and there. Was he aware tat the war was over? Wait, was the war over for him? She thought a bit. Sure, he'd met her fair share of Germans in her time, especially at that so-called academy she was enrolled in. More like a poorly disguised interment camp. All the nations sent girls there, and Kelly found that the Germans were very docile when compared to the Soviets. She could respect them, even if she only fought the war for ten days. After that, it was onto Korea, and then the CIA.

So, did she respect Klaus? Of course. She affirmed her knowledge that the Allies had won the war, and that despite his choice of dress, there was no need to go making trouble. Hell, she often wore her old uniform too, so she had no room to talk really. The expression softened on her face and she nodded, holstering her revolvers and standing up. Perhaps she could trouble him for a cup of joe? So far, he was about the most familiar thing she'd seen since she got here, and that was saying something. She looked on to the other two girls.

"I'll go get the blankets, then." She said to them.

She quickly hopped onto her feet and went to look for the blankets. Wait...what the hell was a "stoop"? Stoop? Like stooping one's head? Odd. Maybe he was talking about the porch or front steps? Kelly walked out and saw the blankets right outside the door. Oh, so he was talking about that. Well, another thing learned for today. She scooped them up and carried them back into the lobby.

"Wait, why do we need blankets again?" She asked aloud.

[Torsiedelle]

He had forgotten?! Yeah, right. Torii glanced his way again and nodded. "Oh, you'd know if you had bacon. It's the best thing ever."

She couldn't help but look at Drova's breakfast. It was all healthy and cool and yogurty. She thought back on her own breakfasts, and how Katya always made huge servings of eggs and pancakes and bacon, and how she'd make gravy and all other sorts of foods. They cooked fatty and hardy, which she found funny, thinming that, like Drova, a rich, pretty girl would learn to cook something more exquisite.

Drova was like her sister in that way. "You know, I don't know why you and my sister never talk. She's no royalty, but she has a similar upbringing, I think. She always dresses all classy and she never gets over that prim-and-proper English sounding accent she picked up.", Torii said. "Which is weird. I think it is anyways, but it suits her. I think you might be like that, maybe, although you don't have an accent that's so stuck up."

...........

Katya turned around, fingers interlocked at her breast, to adress Kelly and bring her into their work. "I'd assume that it's so those who sit over here will be warm and comfortable. ", She said. "I'd certainly find a blanket and a seat in a cozy area to be better than just any old seat. Oh, and don't mind Klaus.", She chuckled. "He's German, yes. I'm quarter German myself. I've seen her here in the past, though we havent formally met, have we?"

She moved to position a few seats, though still keeping an eye on and listening to Rmwtyllin and Kelly.

[Fvaarniimar]

She tried to picture it. Chairs facing the center... Oh! Like how people sat at meetings without foreigners, only with chairs? That might be nice if -

"Are you suggesting a full circle or half? I think that between three and four fifths of one facing the window could be pleasant." And blankets - she glanced at Kelly as the woman reentered. "Excellent! In addition to that use which Katya mentioned, if more seats are needed, people can sit cross-legged or kneeling on folded blankets." There was a reason that doing so with foreign visitors was quite rare - "Unless their status is too high for them to deign to do so, or they will be offended by the implication that they are of lower status than those sitting in the chairs -" But would that even be the case? "Would any Residents see that as being implied? Fvaarniimarn people do not, but some other peoples seem to."

--

The bath had been quite nice while it lasted, but Kwa'a doubted that she had infinite time to languish. Besides, her fingers were starting to resemble dried fruits... She pulled the plug and watched the leaf-speckled water swirl down the drain.

[The BranRiech]

He had forgotten?! Yeah, right. Torii glanced his way again and nodded. "Oh, you'd know if you had bacon. It's the best thing ever."

She couldn't help but look at Drova's breakfast. It was all healthy and cool and yogurty. She thought back on her own breakfasts, and how Katya always made huge servings of eggs and pancakes and bacon, and how she'd make gravy and all other sorts of foods. They cooked fatty and hardy, which she found funny, thinming that, like Drova, a rich, pretty girl would learn to cook something more exquisite.

Drova was like her sister in that way. "You know, I don't know why you and my sister never talk. She's no royalty, but she has a similar upbringing, I think. She always dresses all classy and she never gets over that prim-and-proper English sounding accent she picked up.", Torii said. "Which is weird. I think it is anyways, but it suits her. I think you might be like that, maybe, although you don't have an accent that's so stuck up."

"I guess it's the age-difference, but really, I don't really think we'd get along." Drova shrugged. It was exactly why he was drawn to Torii, she had much more depth and intrigue to herself than her sister. "She seems exactly what I was trying to get away from in the beginning." His smile was genuine now, grabbing a spoon from a nearby drawer. It was true that his breakfast was a little radical for someone who was used to a more traditional breakfast, but to Drova, it was a cheap and good-tasting combination.

"I guess it's also that I've barely met her, I'd probably hang out with her more if I knew her a little better." He turned around, facing outwardly into the dining room from beyond the counter, observing the various residents sitting around, eating their food.

He took a bite, mostly yogurt, but stained with the colors of the several different fruits mixed in. "So what's the plan for today then?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

The Building

He nodded to Insidious for Sandy's benefit. "This lovely creature is Insidious, one of the Luxans. Her magic and tech are unorthodox by most standards, and she's a follower of the Great Old Ones, if memory serves. I'm told she also dependable and a valued Resident here. Thaddeus speaks highly of her, at any rate."

Sandy smiled sheepishly and looked away from both Adrastus and Insidious, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "Oops."

Insidious waved at Sandy and her skin took on a friendly yellow texture with white fireworks around her lymph nodes. “Its nice to spoken so fondly of. If you ever need help with a magic or science that seems so crazy it might as well be magic, feel free to give me a ring.”

Sandy recovered as best he could, looking back toward Insidious. "Thank you, and thank you for the offer." Sciences indistinguishable from magic weren't so crazy: that was one of Clarke's Laws. Alchemy was mistaken for one in his world, so why not others? Surely-- A thought that had been trying to rise through Sandy's subconscious finally broke the surface into awareness. 'Great Old Ones'? Oh! Lovecraft's little darlings. Well, if Hesiod wasn't entirely fiction, why not Lovecraft? But his gods made the Olympians and the Titans look angelic. Caution seemed advisable in dealing with Insidious, but Sandy realized he knew very little about any of the pantheons the other Residents worshipped... or were part of. He hadn't been too cautious with any of them. Hmmm.

Sandy looked up at people as they came through the door. Still a number of unfamiliar faces: all this time, and he still didn't know everybody. So dispersed, and now they'd need to get organized in a hurry.

He gave Nick a nod as he sat down in a nearby chair. "Hello, Nick! Long time, no see." How long had it been since he'd had a chance to talk to Nick? Since Carnival? It was hard to keep track even of people he knew.

"Might we join you?" Alexia inquired by way of greeting.

"Yes, please. Hello, Alexia, Anais!" Sandy smiled at them warmly, but concern was visible on his face as he saw how tired Anais looked. How hard had she pushed herself? He'd have to find a moment to ask. "We're getting organized for the next couple of days. We have much to do, in case the Fiends come back soon. There'll be a Residents' Meeting this afternoon, followed by a healers' meeting where we can hash out the details."

Sandy turned back to the conversation at the healer's table, filling his mug with cream of turkey soup and quietly sipping it while he listened. There was a lull in the discussion, and something that had been nagging at the back of Sandy's mind came to the front. He turned towards the table of fighters, as they'd be more likely to be able to answer than the healers. "One thing I'm still puzzled by is what happened on the battlefield today. I saw some extraordinary spellcasting -- the spell that took people to the roof in bathtubs and the firestorm spell which followed it -- but I don't understand what preceeded that. Villagers helping a badly injured patient described grass that attacked them, and I saw that the firestorm had set a walking tree aflame. But where did the grass and the tree come from? Did anybody on the battlefield get a good look at the group of the Fiends? Were there spellcasters with them?"

The Burrows

"There are settlements tucked here and there but the closest major city is what I've already said. There's alien stuff south of here. By that, I mean aliens from space. That whole area is treacherous. Most people stay out if they know what's good for them. The Freywold has its own cities but those are hit and miss. The Elves are cruel, the Dwarves aren't friendly outside their own people, the Dragons don't take kindly to uninvited guests, and everyone groans whenever they encounter a Hero. Don't get me started on those."

Amanda laughed gently. "First the prices in Alessio, now Heroes. It seems there are many things we shouldn't get you started on. Perhaps we will in time."

"Our sheep were torched," a cyclops huffed. "The Fiends have been slaughtering them. But this time? No. They were subjected to Fiends, and then to strange grass that lacerated flesh and bone, and then a massive magical fire sprung to life from nowhere to wither the grass before it could kill us all. The sheep never had a chance." [...]

The cyclops' head shook. "Nope. Old Sam sets 'em good, but never could he set something so big without summoning a demon to help. No demons. We would have smelled the brimstone. And Old Sam, he don't care about helping nobody but himself. He could have stopped them werefoxes what was eating all the virgins last spring, but for his being too hermit-y."

Oh, so that's what happened! That would make sense. Amanda interjected a comment, addressing the cyclops. "You're probably right. It probably was magic: ours. We have a number of spellcasters with us. I was called away to a rescue mission, so I didn't see the grass attack anybody, nor did I see the fire, but the battlefield afterwards looked like there'd been a duel between spellcasters."

Then she added to Margaret: "Yes, breakfast would be excellent, thank you! Eggs will be more than fine, and coffee if you have any." As Amanda walked to the inn, she thought that Sandy will be in seventh heaven with all the magical things to find out about. She'd have to make a note of them once she sat down. She caught up with Margaret on the way. "Would you happen to have a map of the area we could look at? You mentioned a number of places, but I'm not sure how close any of them are."

[Torsiedelle]

"I doubt they would, honestly.", Katya told Rmwtyllin, trying to imagine the setup they could work with. "Even the higher-ups in their little groups might not care, considering the building. As long as we're all here, I think it will be fine."

She finished moving a chair over, and popped her back, ready for another.

..........

"You're like, what, my age?", Torii asked. "My sister is twenty-one. There's only about two years between us. I think she kind of fits into the rich girl thing you didn't like, too, but she's not dumb or self-absorbed."

Torii beckoned for him to take a seat as she picked a table. "She's really awesome. I think it would be cool if we spent more time with her."

[Giovenith]

Giovenith nodded in agreement with Klaus' restrictions and assessments, and only really worried about accurately remembering the way they'd gone last time. When they'd explored the Building, it had been a frazzled, random experience full of unexpected twists and surprises, and if anything, they'd only discovered what they'd searched for completely by accident. Still though, Marcus had been there too (both on the adventure she had been, and the one she hadn't), so if either of them got confused, they had one another for reference.

Itum was the perfect choice she hadn't considered, and only hoped he had as much talent with diplomatic exchange in gods as he did with regular people. Gods were quite unpredictable when it came to lessers seeking them out. Some were tricky and liked to test their visitors, others demanded absolute respect, and still others preferred to confuse their guests with enforced humility on both sides. Across the board though, for all types of gods alike, and she was loathe to admit, was that they were very often difficult to make understand your particular situation. Whether it be from selfishness, ivory tower syndrome, the inability to relate, whatever, when seeking out a god to assist you, you really needed to make sure you had all your ducks in a row. They weren't quite as bad as say, genies, but at least genies admitted they were assholes--when gods fucked up, they tended to turn around and point the finger at you for not "understanding their ways" and bitch about what an ingrate you were.

Wow. That was critical. Maybe Willow really was rubbing off on her.

Either way, Giovenith was prepared. She'd go right now if she had to! (Though, some minor preparation might have been best beforehand)

--

While Willow had correctly assumed for some time that humans were a type of primate, he'd never really dwelt on it, considering that it was a bit difficult to look at them through such a lens, if only because of the main stereotypes associated with such creatures (bananas!). Apes and chimps weren't creatures the sapient races of his world paid much attention to, they lived off in faraway jungles or in the occasional zoo or carnival, and there was very little to prompt an extended research of them other than pure animal love. Their intelligence and ingenuity were a great subject of interest to the humans, but that was by pure self-favoring bias; to the world ruled by other evolutionary descendants, they were little more interesting than lions, fish, squids, or eagles, there to learn about for anypony who cared, but far from anything society hinged on.

Thus, it had never really occurred to Willow that there was anything particularly violent about primates, not more so than any other wild animal anyway. He wasn't familiar with their habits other than they climbed stuff and ate fruit. Then again, it made sense, looking at some of the non-equine species gracing the planet Equestria rested on. Neither eagles nor lions themselves were sapient, but Griffons were, and all three were known for an aggressive edge. Problem was though, in that world, all equines were sapient, from the zebras, to the deer, to the ponies--Willow had little to consider what it came to animalistic comparisons. Given what he'd briefly seen of the animal ponies though, it didn't seem quite flattering.

"We've had violence and stupidity, we just tend to get over it quickly," Willow remarked as he observed the child's drawing that the Nazi's body presented to him. That was flattering, and it offered some comfort that, like he'd told Nick earlier before, at least no one saw him as an animal here. For whatever ingrained natural differences Rache suggested there were, Willow still ultimately saw humans as ponies in another shape, and assumed they must have seen him as merely human in another shape.

"My name is Willow Streaks," he introduced, tucking the broom between his knees. "Yes, I do room with Giovenith, she is an excellent navigator and friend when it comes to living in this different culture. I don't know much about demons..." His mistake not seeing the a. "... little still about demons living inside of others, but from what I have heard, they're usually not quite so civil as you seem to be."

Then again, war was never all that fun, and the artist could only guess how the daemon behaved then as he implied, but it was a far cry from the growling, mother-insulting, pea soup projectile vomit general assholery portrayed in the movies. They certainly didn't speak of refraining from harming the weak. Part of Willow actually leaned toward the possibility that the "Hans" Rache mentioned, or whatever the host's name was, actually just had some sort of multiple personality disorder and was acting out his personal interpretation of a demonic character, but he wasn't about to air the accusation and risk pissing the obviously formidable individual off. Besides, he didn't know for sure. Lots of things in this Building proved him wrong, so possession could certainly be one of them. But still, never be so open-minded that your brains tumble out.

"I don't know if you would at all be offended by what humans have to say," he said, while sliding some books back into place, smiling slightly. "But the media doesn't tend to portray you guys as particularly concerned with things like mercy, or libraries."

But then the media also didn't tend to portray ponies as particularly concerned with anything other than glitter and throwing endless meaningless parties and festivals (they also didn't seem to think stallions and colts existed, which was more than a little sexist), so he supposed he couldn't talk.

[Swith Witherward]

CLINIC
The construct savored the sound of Septimus' heartbeat. His breath became a breeze, and his words were the distant rumble of thunder. Her eyes closed. There was no better place to be at that moment than right where she was. His voice banished the silence in her mind but, more importantly, it promised to also drive away the little doubts and fears that would certainly encroach upon her soul in the dead of night.

"I love you."

The words were nothing special in the human tongue, just a simple phrase imparted daily by thousands of people the world over. However, her words were accompanied by an emotional undercurrent that physically touched his mind - her gratitude for his willingness to be there for her right at that moment, her pride in him earlier for taking a stand and performing his tasks despite his own desire to push the world away and tend to her needs, and her deep affection for him. They could endure anything. They would endure it. The waters swirled, the emotions ebbed, and she broke contact in order to dress.

"You had better hurry now," Malaise intruded upon them, her hands filled with trays bearing the new gauze packages.

Neste acknowledged the demon with a sharp flick of her ears. Her understanding of Chaos was limited, but she knew the nurse was another extension of the god that kept order in the clinic. He was undoubtedly upstairs, and so she took Malaise's advice as an indication that Septimus would be needed shortly.

Much to her chagrin, the box under the bed contained a spare tee-shirt from Ogoti's restaurant. The front bore the logo but the back always denoted the staff's. She ran her fingers across the word, smiling as the tips moved between soft cotton and imprinted ink. Security. Klaus had fashioned it. The gesture meant that he didn't see the loss of her exo as a loss of her abilities to perform her role. He had faith in her. Though their factions were always in disagreement, he had faith. She gingerly slipped the shirt on, tugging the bottom hem over her bare breasts and then smoothing the wrinkles from the logo. A generic pair of panties and blue jeans completed the ensemble. He had thoughtfully provided an opening and buttons for her tail.

Although her movements had remained smooth and deliberate, the effort left her breathing ragged. The pain wouldn't vanish in an instant despite the blue carpule's rejuvenation properties . The wounds no longer bled but the lacerations ran deep, and Neste wondered if she'd bear scars. Such things were prized in the sisterhood. And yet...

Golden eyes sought Septimus, and she held his gaze a moment. Would he think the scars unattractive? His preference for hiding his face hadn't been lost on her back in the day, and she had all but blustered to force him towards the pantry in order to better examine his expression. The effort was to detect a measure of truth, but he had perhaps taken it as her need to better view the violent hashes that adorned his prior form. Oh, she would have studied them for hours, indeed! He was glorious in his old age.

Neste returned to Septimus' side and lifted a hand to trace one of the smaller marks present now. Exquisite. She imparted a kiss to it, repressing the ribald thoughts that always tingled her belly whenever she set eyes on the marred skin, and then she smiled. "Let's go. And please, let's take the elevator?"


LOBBY
Volker the Front Desk Cultist worked in silence, moving things wherever the girls requested, and listened to their conversations. It was soothing. It kept him busy.

Kelly's voice pulled him from his private musings, and he took a stack of blankets from her. The former Nazi shrugged. "War is hell. We might need to tear them apart for bandages, or to warm those in shock. We might even use them to tie up broken limbs or to wad under someone's head."

His eyes twinkled in the lobby's bright light. "We could also use them to make forts. Lots and lots of forts, ja? You ever make a play fort when you were a little girl? Happy is the child whose mother lets him abuse her dining room table for such an endeavor!"

His laughter trailed behind him as he went outside to bring in the next stack, and the mirth remained on his lips as he deposited the load beside the clinic door.

His heels clicked in greeting the moment the clinic's door opened to reveal Septimus and Neste. There wasn't any need to impair their progress. They had places to be, people to speak with. Busy, busy! He watched them cross the lobby and call the elevator. The lizard was in a bad way, at times leaning on the cyborg for support. What a shame. She seemed like a nice girl, too.

He returned to helping the girls with the furniture. So engrossed was he that he completely missed Naomi's slender form as she slipped around the corner and trotted up the stairs.


DINING ROOM
The Klingons and Guild were unknown persons to Nila. The poor dear didn't get out much. Just about everyone else was likewise a stranger to her. The anthro lizard twiddled her thumbs and said nothing until one of the humans ventured to ask about spellcasters.

"The enemy had none, or we would have detected it," she fixed golden eyes on Sandy. Nictitating membranes flicked upward to moisten her lenses as she regarded him. Constructs didn't like spellcasters, no sir! Nasty, trickster beings that short fire from fingertips and twisted bodies without touching the actual DNA! Magic was an abomination.

"The enemy had more than you realize." Neste had chosen to allow Septimus to enter the dining room first, but she followed closely behind him. Her voice, normally lilting and interspersed with gentle fluting or cheerful chirps, remained flat and thin.

She seldom joined the other Residents in daily life, preferring to remain in the shadows. This was probably the most some had seen of her despite her living there before their return to the new city. Neste's anthro reptilian form wasn't large, nor did she consider herself imposing. The pebbly white skin adorning her face was framed by larger scales arranged in a pleasing pattern, and the strange feathery whisps cresting head had been pulled back and gathered together by a long strip of cottony white gauze. Yet she wasn't unblemished. The grass had pierced her exo, and a painful gash cut the edge of her nostril and ran up her short snout to vanish into the featherline. She bore a neutral expression, but her mind churned as it worked memories of the battle to its surface.

The construct settled beside Septimus at the healer's table and took stock of the room's occupants. Most she knew on sight. A person didn't lurk in the shadows without getting to know a few people by their habits. Some, such as Romulus, were brand new. She nodded to him before addressing Sandy again.

"The Fiends attacked without apparent sense of pain or self-preservation instinct. They fought until killed or crippled too badly to move," she spoke with the coolheadedness of a seasoned commander. "They moved in a strange pattern once they realized I was not appetizing. Those that I infected with contagion initially balked at my control and didn't want to veer from their path. In fact, they seemed to want to move along a course between plants. I did not have time to fully analyze the biome before the grass struck, although I was able to determine that the field I was in was not all grass; it's not a normal grazing field. This much was apparent to be me by the low amounts of sheep excrement. There were other plants mixed in with the grass: broadleafed "weeds", shrubs, and creeping vines. The mixed-in plants didn't have a natural, random spacing to them. They look planted or otherwise organized, although by whom I can not say. I did not have an opportunity to sample their genetic matrix."

Neste offered a shrug and then winced as the slashes along her shoulders sent a fresh, painful twinge across her skin. "Perhaps the Fiends are Eldritch? My database contains very little about magic save only those species we've chosen to gen- ah, to engage in conflict with. Fiend metabolisms are not natural. No sensible living thing can manage the power output they have given their size and apparent musculature. Much like my own spawn, they can run without tiring, and leap incredible heights. My spawn achieve this by consuming every last bit of biomatter in their path. The Fiends, however, do not. This is what leads me to believe there is magic at work."

Her eyes traveled between the warriors, at times alighting a bit longer on those with heavier protection such as Romulus. "Your steel and Kevlar won't protect you from their attacks. Your alloys are pathetic in comparison to whatever substance forms their claws and teeth. It damaged my exo's armor, and that is saying something."

A question had tickled the back of her brain since awakening. Her eyes met Nila's. "How were they turned aside? I was already down when that happened."

Nila coughed and wiggled in her seat. "They turned to ash with the first light of the rising sun, precisely. They fought just as fiercely up until that point, no photophobic or photosensitive behavior or attempts to disengage and seek shadow."

"Very unusual," Neste growled.

"Was it the Fiends that brought you down?" Marcus asked.

Neste shook her head. She had an edge on the creatures, and was fairing well. Until... something. The construct's long ears laid back, and a corner of her mouth revealed several sharp teeth as it lifted in contempt. "I sense the Fiends are more than they seem. Something struck me down, I believe. Something physical, not magical. I didn't have time to scan it before the blow momentarily took Scel offline. The grass attacked at that instant, and it was that grass that destroyed my exo and kept me from operating. Perhaps the grass formed something? Mother Nature is not kind here, and she doesn't appear to appreciate magical intervention. The grass did not behave entirely as it should. The blade's cells protested as the magic warped them. The Fiends were heedless to the pain. Let this be a caution to all those who would attempt to use magic to alter this world's natural state."

And whichever of you dumbshits did this to me, and robbed me of my logic... oh, I will find you.

Neste moved to settle back in her chair, but the world around her wobbled. Protocol and etiquette be damned! The lizard gently leaned against Septimus' shoulder and arm and closed her eyes. Her debriefing was done, as far as she cared. She would rest a moment longer. The carpule still worked its charm, but twenty more minutes of rest would speed it along.

[Chedastan]

"Hmph."

Romulus simply uttered towards the last of what the android said, and preceded to just ignore it afterwards, knowing it wasn't worth anymore of his time. He used to machines that didn't talk, as typically anyone from the Wilhelm Imperium would be. Okay maybe only the 6th Stock would shoot at it, only because they didn't know any better, those innocent souls. He rethought some of the things he initially thought about the android. He took yet another sip from his tea, almost running out of it from his mug. This place might have been already getting to his nerves, too many strange things for one day undoubtedly. And it was weird to be actually talking to people not from the Imperium, that doesn't very often for him or really most people in the Imperium for that matter. Guess there isn't a point to chat really, if you have to conquer them soon after you encountered them on your ever changing frontier.

The General nodded in acknowledgement of Klaus, obviously agreeing with what he said, as that what he wanted too of course. It was clear they needed as many bodies as possible to mount any feasible defense against the menace. And any skillful manpower they have will prove valuable in the face of the Fiends. How odd it felt too that he was now going to be fighting with outsiders too, he didn't have much of a choice of course, still though, he couldn't have past over thinking about the irony of his situation. He knew in his modified heart though, that was still fighting for the Wilhelm Imperium because he was also fighting for his own survival, and no one would have questioned his actions if he comes back from it to tell the tale.

He heard the she-wolf snicker, and recited what sounded like an old saying or an proverb, that no doubt sounded it related to him. He turned his head to gaze at the Lupii curiously, but only briefly as he returned to look at the others that were now joining them, or had just now. At least he remained one of the tallest people here, as it was in his own dimension, at least that hasn't changed much. He started to pay some close attention to whatever the lizard lady thing had to say, she actually nodded at him from the looks of it. He listened intently to what she had to say on the Fiend matter, her voice sounding of authority to him, enticing him more.

So these things will likely claw through him too, shit. Plants and sunlight she said though?

"You mentioned they move along a course between plants? So they move along a path with plants then. Is it out of the question that they could be lured elsewhere with them? Perhaps at a location they could be surgically strike at, a stakeout point if you will. Where we could plant high explosives at to potentially wipe out a number of them, or shell with what ordnance we have?" He asked her, while also proposing an idea to the group that has gathered.

[Cerillium]

LIBRARY

Rache chuckled. Willow's confusion wasn't all that uncommon. "To each pantheon is his daemon, and to his god is his credence and Hume. David Hume, specifically, but that's a topic for another day."

The creature folded his hands and leaned his rump against a table. "Each pantheon is different. Each god. Each of that god's minions or, in the case of my pantheon, each extension of that god is unique from another pantheon's. We are chaotic. There is no good, there is no bad. I was formed by the god of war, and I imbue not only his lust for violence but also his sense of honor. We are Conflict, and our fuel is rage, hatred and war. We require blood sacrifice."

Rache studied his human hands, noting how meticulous Hans had become in his daily grooming. Ah, Chrys. He kept himself neat for her benefit. How...sweet.

"Tell me, why do Elohim and other gods insist on innocent lambs? You take a helpless creature and destroy it because it is perfect. That's vile. Yet humanity sees the need for the lamb to be perfect to appease a perfect god. My god believes the innocent lamb should be left alone. Go kill something that poses a real challenge. Be victorious in battle. If it's potent, chances are good that the follower will die while trying to complete his deed. Either way, a sacrifice is given. But the innocent? Where is the valor in striking down a weak creature too timid to raise up an arm to defend itself? Cheap blood is an insult. What a shame that so many humans misinterpret our god's call as an excuse to gore everything in sight. Assassination is disgusting to us, as is torture. Kill on the battlefield, kill cleanly, live to kill another day."

A rueful sigh accompanied these words. "Don't even get me started on the damned Astartes under our pantheon's sway. They fail to comprehend that each god has duality of nature. They see only the grim."

He rocked to his feet and neatened a pile of books, his eyes absentmindedly skimming their titles before adding them to the stack. "The cultists follow avatars - extensions of the gods - that march to their own drums. We've gone a bit rogue. Daemons such as myself do as they are told. There's precious little for me to do here. I slumber inside my host more than I remain awake. Recently, I've been awake more than I've slumbered, and I've found humanity intriguing. Blame Minerva."

The cookbook in Rache's hands wagged at Willow. "But the media? They're most familiar with Abrahamic beliefs. Demons. We aren't the same variety. No pitchforks and black capes. No sitting on a man's shoulders and convincing him to sin. I suspect Ponies don't believe in that particular pantheon. If all you have to go by is media, is it safe to presume your pantheon of choice bears no daemons at all?"



DINING ROOM

Adrastus coughed and refocused. "Sandy, do you mind taking on the overarching leadership position for the healers? My scope is my observatory and the priesthood. The observatory is gone, but our structure remains. Those brothers and sisters still with us are going to be hard pressed to remedy our communication situation, and that is my primary concern at the moment."

"I have no objection to that," Ogoti smiled.

"I didn't think you would. In fact-"

His words were cut off as more Residents arrived. The Klingons, the Guild, and finally Septimus and Neste.

Marcus' eye widened as the construct spoke. Holy fucking shit, he had jumped into the truck without realizing how badly things could have gone. Suddenly his father's bluster made sense. What if those things had made contact with the vehicles? The jeep carrying Amanda and Varona, or the truck with only its flimsy standard doors? The knowledge that there was something bigger inside the Fiend swarm was particularly frightening. It had knocked the exo offline? Oh shit, that was a heavy blow. It had to be. He'd always assumed nothing could physically lay them out, short of dropping a total fucking moon on their skulls.

He could have died.

He probably would have died.

Just where would Giovenith be if he had died? He impacted her life in a good way but that also meant that his death would hit her hard. His thirst to prove himself would have ended with Giovenith shedding bitter tears. And he couldn't say that he was taking a risk for the better of others around him. No, not when his own father had seen the potential for danger that he, himself, had overlooked for sake of saving the day.

The boy ran metallic fingers over his organic arm to brush away an itch. Yeah, let's not be so hasty next time.

The construct continued to speak, but the details were no longer interesting. He wished to be anyplace else. He knew he'd feel his father's optics boring into his skull soon. Sensing that the construct was done speaking, he cleared his throat just as Romulus posed his question. "Please excuse the interruption, General. Sirs, it would be prudent if we found the Manager. If the Fiends strike again, we'll need to be ready on all fronts."

"Indeed," Adrastus nodded. Newcomers had arrived and were in the dark, so he elaborated for their benefit. "Part of the plan is to have a small group seek out the Building Manager to requisition clinic space. The current clinic is inferior and the dining room isn't sanitary. Miss Giovenith and Brother Marcus have agreed to lead the group to the Manager. We would like it very much if Representative Itum joined them in an official capacity."

"Miss Tora has also been to the Manager's office," Klaus chimed in. "More eyes, better chances."

The cryptic nature of his words were lost on old Adrastus. "Very well. Whoever. But I advise they start now. The day isn't getting younger."

Finally! About time, too. Marcus' chair scraped the floor as he pushed himself back. "We'll all meet at the elevators in ten minutes? I have something I need to grab." Nobody said a thing as he trotted from the room. There was still much to discuss for those not taking part in the mission.

Klaus brought the conversation back to Romulus. The avatar's fingers played with the edges of his officer's cap as he turned it in his hands. "We might be able to mine the path, once we determine what it is. As for explosives? We don't have nearly enough. Emperor Thriller held a weapons plant in Bielefeld, but it's back there and not here. We have little ordinance. A few rockets, a few other things. We didn't keep much on hand because Bielefeld was designed to repel intruders already. The Building was just where we all lived within that city."

Just how much did they have? It had been a long while since anyone had taken stock. "We might want to conduct a bag drag. For those unfamiliar with the term, it means we haul our equipment in and take stock of it. We might luck out and discover that our weapons all take the same calibre ammunition. That would be a miracle."

"I'd like to know more about the plants," Thaddeus interrupted. "This pathway. Who made it. Where does it lead. Most importantly, is the Building in that direct path? We don't know when the fiends will return but it would be nice to know if their return means another collision with us."

[Fvaarniimar]

Dining Room
"Hey, Sandy! How -" Realizing that the spellcaster was speaking (and of matters less trivial than simple chatter) Nick sheepishly cut himself off. Grooming himself vigorously, with care to avoid positions likely to offend human sensibilities, he waited until Sandy was done talking, then tapped his arm.

<SorryforinterruptionweshouldcatchupsometimeI'mhappytoseeyou!> Aloud, he said, "I'll attend - I think?

Before he'd spoken, another had done so - a person who appeared to be wounded. The gash looked painful, and when the person winced - well, that confirmed it.

They were no longer in a state of emergency, however, and he understood the concept of privacy well enough to realize that someone he barely knew might be upset by suddenly having another in their head. A few patients had seemed quite irritated... Granted, he probably could just use the numbing technique he used for prey. Still - sentient, conscious, apparently not in unbearable pain -

"Hello." Right. It would be hard for them to tell who he was talking of...uh..."Person with the scales. You appear to be in some pain. I can numb pain. That's actually why I'm with this group. Do you want me to do so?"

Oh. He'd almost forgotten. "I'm Nick."

---
Lobby
Once the four of them had draped blankets around a tree - blankets, mats, curtains. It had been haphazard, as can be expected when the average age of involved parties is less than ten. But it had been theirs - for a few hours before it rained. They had had fun then... On the verge of tears, she thought No. This is a memory that should cause smiles.

Maybe she could draw the fort, or commission a picture? Meanwhile she chose to smile. "Yes, we did! It was a rather grand hut around a tree."

Did she have the authority to choose the locations? If not the others would revise her command, or the man would act against it. Meanwhile locations needed to be chosen. Tapping five chairs, Rmwtyliin said in a voice loud enough to easily carry, "Place these here, here, here, here, here." Each "here" was said in a different location - two a civet-cat length ((circa a yard or meter)) back from the window and half of another horizontally from one of its edges, one at perhaps five such lengths distance as she faced the center of the window, two more each around three such lengths.

She then walked to the approximate center of said window and stood, back against the glass. "Point the chairs to face where I now stand. Should anyone say otherwise, however, consider that which they say." She felt that covered it - but was she forgetting something? Oh. "In addition to my suggestions...please."

[Torsiedelle]

Katya giggled, watching the German man tease Kelly. "I love making forts, or, well, I did love it. I think it would be fun to make one now, actually. "

She listened to her little friend's plan, impressed. "Can do, Miss.", She said to Rmwtyllin playfully. "Quite the leader. I don't suppose you'd want to build a fort, too?"

She moved to position two chairs, then over to the third. She moved quickly, for being so tired, but she just wanted to get cozy again.

...........

Torii listened in on the conversation from where she and Drova sat, and raised her head up when she was mentioned. "I'd like to go!", She nodded enthusiastically. Her, Marcus, and Gio! Anyone else could go with them, too. "Hey", she glanced at Drova, "wanna go with? We can eat, of course."

[Germanic Templars]

Dining Room

The sound of conversation drew Superbia to the dining room. He wasn't in much mood to talk, mainly because he didn't know that many people that lived in the apartment. However, as he approached the room, he could overhear the briefing over the "fiends" and over the last part about magic, a concept which slightly broke Superbia's moral.

The demon reached the doorway, already seeing a few people but not paying much mind to them. His snout poked through the doorway far enough where the spiral markings on his head were past the framing of the door. Superbia could finally see almost everyone in the room, the only thing he couldn't see was how much of a goof he looked like.

One person through the crowd caught his attention: Ogoti. He was a wise man...Er.. God.. He could provide more detail on where they were and why; possibly explain more in detail on what happened earlier as well since most was just a blur to the demon.

The demon, once standing at the doorway, appeared near Ogoti and the group he was with, hands folded waiting patiently to be noticed. The act he did was not teleportation, nor superspeed, but his ability to move in a quiet, fluid manner almost like a shadow.

[Highfort]

"I love you."

Well that certainly clarified things - things which should have been already abundantly clear as the phrase had been used before and with equal fervor and meaning, but which were still slightly unclear due to the fact that Septimus wasn't very experienced with this sort of thing and this sentence is getting rather long, isn't it?

Whatever the case, Septimus' lips curved into a smile. Not a grin, not one of those weasel-faced grimaces that doesn't quite reach the eyes, not a diplomatic upturn of the lips, but a genuine smile. The first smile of the day. Amidst the emotional and physical exertion of the last few hours, those three words soothed him. A wave of relief, not too dissimilar from the psychological balm she had radiated onto him through the tether only minutes earlier, rolled through the cyborg. He visibly relaxed as she kissed him on one of his fading scars, his arms leaving her side so she could dress before reclaiming their place on her shoulders to help her through the lobby.

He said nothing. As with many such snapshots of life, there was nothing to be said and nothing he said could convey his reaction to the event, anyways. He grew verbose with tears, but quiet with contentment.

Still, he could not help but kiss her forehead as they ascended the stairs and she paused occasionally to better lean herself against him and ease the weight off of her healing legs. Intimacy, he decided at that moment, was something that not should be hid. And though he was loathe to steal public displays for their own sake, the disgust that welled up from years of Confederation culture denigrating outward affection began to wane. He loved her, and if he wanted to show that then it ought not to matter whether others could see or if they were alone.

Setting himself down at the healer's table, where he figured he could be of most use, Septimus shifted over to allow Neste to accompany him. Her testimony, as painful as it might be, would help the Residents in understanding the finer points of their enemy. It was one thing to witness the carnage from behind the lobby's windows or in the courtyard where the Residents and villagers had just barely had an advantage.

She'd been swamped. She knew the full capabilities of the horde when it was brought to bear on a single target.

He paid special attention when the grass was brought up. The thought that it was not a result of the Fiends themselves but the work of some entity filled him with equal measures of rage and dread, though he took care to calm himself. Neste would no doubt be able to feel these things and she was taxed enough as it was.

And whichever of you dumbshits did this to me, and robbed me of my logic... oh, I will find you.

Indeed, was the only word that came to mind and the only one that he communicated across the tether, They will pay for their transgressions, very dearly. We can both see to it, if you like.

A brief flicker of the old days passed through his mind before he could shield her from it. The smell of putrid flesh accompanied a cacophony of screams, gurgles, and whispered pleas to end the suffering. He was conditioned not to, and in a pinch he could do the same again. The monster was buried beneath the civilized man, just barely.

Adrastus' interruption gave Septimus his orders, and he settled back into the familiar position of politician, "Between all our abilities, it shouldn't be too much of a chore to convince Mr. Demens of the need for an expanded clinic. He may toy with us, but in the end it was he who supplied us with this Building. I doubt he would like to see us all dead and the premises vacant and wanting for Residents. I would also request that Neste accompany us; as a former diplomatic envoy, her negotiation skills will be indispensable."

And he'd be damned if he let her out of his sight today. She'd nearly died once, he wasn't about to let her get thrown into another mission and actually killed off.

"We need the expanded clinic," he concluded, "If nothing else, at least we'll be able to deal with a higher casualty count. The first battle took a lot out of us; the second will no doubt take more in our weakened state."

Before he got a chance to get another word in, the Representative was cut off by the voice of a feline. He quickly turned to address Nick and keep him away from Neste - in her current state, she didn't seem very capable of controlling herself. Even as emotions flowed between her and him, he knew that subjecting the construct to the emotional state of anyone else would most likely only leave her writhing in pain.

"Thank you for the generous offer, Nick, but I'm afraid Neste's too weak to sustain telepathic contact with anyone right now," he tried to explain the construct's mental capabilities though he found himself falling short as the words eluded his tired mind, "Her people are such that they share emotional affect and thoughts through physical contact, and more strain on her system won't do her any good at this time."

Turning back to her for a moment, he sighed at her exhausted form, "I'm sure she appreciates the gesture, however. Thank you."

[Fvaarniimar]

Lobby
Did she? As Katya moved chairs, Rmwtyliin considered it. It was childish and not dignified - she believed Katya would not think less of her for wanting to, particularly as she had suggested the activity. It was something to do with Emm and Ijj and Venmii -

But she realized that she wouldn't want any of them to never build forts, or play, or do "their" activities again. It would be hypocrisy if she wished them to move forward without doing so herself. Furthermore - she wanted more forts and more fun. Really, she did.

"...Yes, I would! He did say he would move them. We could build while he did so if he does not object?" The idea was growing on her. She looked at Volker hopefully. "If so, please move all chairs - and blankets if so used - to face the spot which I indicated, following the curve which the chairs positioned outline. It is shaped a little like the rounder half of an egg. Thank you."

It then occurred to the diplomat (in training) that excluding the other woman might offend her. Turning towards Kelly, she asked, "Would you like to join us?"

---

Dining Room
Torsii was going on this trip - and Gio - and Mr. Itum - and others were welcome to join? More eyes...

And then - Ahh! Sudden person nearby! Nick let out a squeaky mew and began grooming his tail, ears still turned towards Neste and hence towards Septimus. He did intend to head for the elevator to ask if the group would mind a tagalong, but if he remembered correctly he had ten minutes. Maybe nine now.

Soon his patience paid off. Sharing thoughts through physical contact?! "I understand. Actually that's a lot like me! I'm sorry you - Neste - aren't okay... Um. I've intended to join you."

---

Apt. 9C
Meanwhile, Kwa'a had exited the tub and was toweling off in her room.

[The BranRiech]

Torii listened in on the conversation from where she and Drova sat, and raised her head up when she was mentioned. "I'd like to go!", She nodded enthusiastically. Her, Marcus, and Gio! Anyone else could go with them, too. "Hey", she glanced at Drova, "wanna go with? We can eat, of course."

"Hmm? I uh, I wasn't listening."Drova admitted, deep in his Parfait that he was in the middle of eating. His eyes flitted between Torii and the conversation out in the dining room. "But yeah, I'll come along with, whatever it is." He smiled, a bit of yogurt stuck to his lip. It didn't remain long, as a nearby dishrag was pulled up to his mouth, wiping it clean as he finished up his simple breakfast, setting the empty cup down near the sink, making it someone else's problem.

"But where then? I really faded out there for a second."

[Torsiedelle]

"Can do!", Katya cheerfully got to it, taking some chairs that she had moved and rearranging them, and pushing some others. "This isn't too hard, but it does get tiring, being hunched over.", She commented. She was persistent, however, qnd kept on.

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

"We're going to find Mr. Demens' office.", Torii said, a bit of excitement in her eyes. She rolled a few strips of bacon into a ball and downed it. "The building is weird, and I've only seen his office a few times, but it's really cool. You should come, if everyone else is."

[Primordial Luxa]

Dinning Room
Insidious stood up from where she was sitting and said “I am going to get started on organizing and set up medical supplies for the clinic, I will either be in my room or the clinic if anyone needs me. Also I’ll swing by later with whatever sorts of ammunition I can muster. Most of our stuff is transcendental rounds and ammunition but we could probably work with the raptors to create some weapon and ammo manufacturing systems.” With that her skin turned to its traditional silver and blackish hue before she stepped out to help up to here room and collect the various necessities.

[Tiltjuice]

Flecks of insulation and plaster drifted down as MB clawed his way across the ceiling of the dining room. Long, thin ears swiveled toward where Klaus was discussing the weapons plant. Ammunition was tasty, but tended to leave him feeling bloated afterward. With rather unfortunate consequences for people's senses of smell.

Elsewhere, Luce awakened with a start in the library, to Tasia's hand on his shoulder.

"You were asleep for some time," the latter said tonelessly. "While you were out, a few things happened..."

And so it was that he, covering a yawn and with a tight gaze, joined the gathering in the dining room, trailed by his awakener. Chrysanthe and Dora were already there, having made their own entrance behind Brit, and taken in all the developments since. Hands flashed back and forth, relaying the subjects of the healers' and fighters' discussions to Luce.

[Mincaldenteans]

DINING ROOM

Most the guildmates had joined in when Tavana signaled them over to listen in. They tried their best not to take up what little room there was with so many converging at the healer's table and made possible to hear the conversation without rudely jostling for position and space with other residents. Mezran grunted softly a couple times as he stood behind Tavana, the memory of the battle fresh in the captain's mind.

"tlhoy nuq Dajatlh qar, vaj directive nap pab jagh vo' Hal, ra'wI', 'IjmeH wa' beasts. tlham tlha' mang 'ach Qub chaH qaStaHvIS may' tuj. vIH chaH ngoQ Vas, 'Iv HIvmeH chaH, vIchel ghojwI'pu'lI' chaH Hoch nI' Hoch Qu' chaH," Mezran spoke up, forgetting -like the character's handler- that his universal translator had been damaged during the night's battle. He gave a hopeful glance at Tavana, who had picked up English when she her youth was restored on the way back to earth. His deep voice must have sounded like he was shouting at the group with vigor, and really, he wasn't.

Tavana glanced up at him and gave a small nod in understanding. She turned her head toward the group, her unruly brown mane swayed around, forcing her to fuss with it momentarily before explaining the Klingon's words, "His translator has been damaged," she explained briefly and glanced at Neste whom she gave a fond smile. She had not known that the reptile had gone into the thick of battle, Tavana's only regret was she was not there to join her. "If what you say is accurate, Neste, than I must agree with Mezran on this: the creatures may follow a simple directive from a source, a commander, if these things even have one. Warriors follow orders, but each think on their feet, adapting to the situation with a keen focus on supporting the whole. These moved with a single purpose, they didn't care who they attacked, as long as they did."

"That would explain why they were so easy to foil," Cherry piped up with a nonchalant shrug as she nursed a hot cup of coffee that warmed her tired arms, "My specialty involves fumbling the actions of others: divert, distract, counterstrike, making their intentions turn upon themselves, and yet the fiends had almost no intelligence that I could pick up on, I was wasting away hex spells upon them and it wasn't so much as it worked as how easy it was they fell for it. Fast as they may be, they didn't have much else to go on. If there's a more powerful magic out there, I didn't sense it, but then I wasn't paying attention to that so much as what was in front of me."

"They seem adverse to fire," Erick piped up next. "Traxt was hurling fire spells before the big one but he was taken out of the field long before that. Even on his best day, he couldn't hurl a spell of that magnitude. Anyway, they didn't like fire, or at least care about it to retreat." The Elementalist that stood next to him could only nod. If Anais looked exhausted, Traxt looked deathly pale.

"If they attack again," Anais spoke up softly addressing everyone in hearing range, gripping her mug of herbal tea tightly. The Ritualist took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Her bones ached and she felt a weight on her shoulders she knew wouldn't go away anytime soon. She had no interest in raising her voice, but for the sake of the group, she made sure everyone could hear, "A larger clinic would be most helpful. I can set a few 'spirits' at certain points to help facilitate the healing process. It is slow work, but think of it as triage at large," she addressed Sandy with a nod, "tell me where you will have the most serious cases cordoned off to and I will decide what to summon to aid whomever is in charge of that area. The night's battle had me scrambling everywhere with little preparation, I don't think I'll be able to handle that again."

"And my healing specializing on the individual," Alexia said next to Sandy and the group at large, "Keep me where you want at the most, I can't maintain a group like Anais, but that's where we work as a unit. She handles a group at large, I focus on the person in most need. We'll have to gather a few more things from the guild hall; our supplies are limited, so we'll have to give it some thought before expending it especially if it can't be replaced. As for defenses..."

"I'll assist in that," Traxt volunteered. He raised his hand before Alexia could protest, "I'd rather know what kind of defenses we have rather than sit idly by. I saw an ice wall that was rather impressive but a wall is a wall in the end. We'd need other options."

"Not that the grass wasn't helpful as much as it was a tactical error," Tavana spoke up once more, "I don't suppose we can do that again? For all its flaws, it still has its use and potential offensive capability. Does anyone know how it was done? Klingons don't believe in magic, but if it were so, can it be done again? Who here are able to replicate the same effect in a more purposeful manner?"