Demens Chosen IC (Personification Life) [CLOSED]

[Holy Lykos]

Paper-Nick
"I am a sapient being with physical existence. You are not going crazy. I am a copy of someone else, however, made by one of the goddesses who lives here because real Nick could not come for Christmas. Naomi gave the real Nick his first present and is rather kind. I do not mind, but being a copy of, well, me is just weird. "Real" Nick uses a magic collar to speak - given by Klaus, in fact. I can speak with my mouth closed, but don't know if it's the collar or, well, me. And yes, it's odd here, but...it can be quite nice, too."

Self-consciously, the cat licked himself, his little pink cardboard tongue rasping through brown paper fur.

"Well that is... rather interesting. I'll have to get used to a talking cat too won't I?" Sidney asked, sitting himself down at the table. "Though I suppose I've been getting used to a lot of strangeness lately, even before I came here." He shrugged lightly and sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

"I suppose having a copy of yourself around would be pretty odd. My name is Sidney, by the way. Sid if you prefer. I just arrived today, along with quite a few it seems like." He glanced at the Japanese girl briefly, before looking back to the cat. "So, why are there two versions of yourself? Did they create such things so they had all people here accounted for, for the briefing? Where's the real you gone off to?" Quite a few questions, the man's eyes sparkling in curiosity. So many odd things, he just couldn't help himself, really. It'd been a while since he'd been involved in a strange, supernatural world and Sidney was definitely relishing the opportunity. Though he'd not admit it, civilian life had always bored him.

"I'm assuming a good number of the people here are magical in some way? I don't suppose it'd be very intuitive to continue to conceal the abilities I have as well then, like I do back home for various reasons."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Amanda was startled by Klaus' abrupt change in tone, but relieved -- almost disappointed -- that he failed to be a martinet. It was difficult to do more than wait and see what his "dirt involved" meant, since he'd pass for being reasonable at first glance. His emphasis on cameraderie didn't sit well with her, though. Cameraderie was only gained by significant experiences with other people, not artifical teamwork exercises.

But an alliance between God, Pearlelei, Demens, and... Azathoth? That was going to take some looking into and thinking about. Did it represent a change in the celestial political weather, or had Chaos, in its typically inimical way, simply fail to mention it until now? And no mention of the Olympians? Was that an oversight, an ellipsis, or a deliberate exclusion? Hm...

When Amanda spaced in, she realized they'd been joined by... oh, her, the one who asked a question already on her mind.

"Frankly however, I think the reason this room's inhabitants happens to be so... Varied in origin is that they are all specialists. I'm a scientist, and by nature, I must admit that I am more focused on Empiricism and logicality. I don't think the point is to be a jack of all trades, but more so to permit oneself to lend their specific skills to any situation that may be on hand. The logistics and organisation of this place seem sound enough to plan for those, the contingencies and beyond, considering how they were able to... Remove us."

A scientist? She has a doctorate in higher pretention? Or is that just regular conversation where she comes from? And how do I enter this conversation. "I'd try a simpler explanation: we're so varied because Demens doesn't know who or what he needs, and simply grabs whoever looks good. Klaus did say he's a poor judge of what needs to be done."

"You raised a good point earlier: why does Demens need our help? He seems to have the raw ability -- he made or made off with all of Galli -- and if he just needs advice for what to do, he doesn't need us playing soldier. I'm Amanda Bela, by the way. Glad to meet you...?" Amanda hoped she would recognize that as an invitation to introduce herself.

"Hello. May I join you?" Now almost facing Amanda, Paper-Rmwtyliin made as if to sit. With this perspective, she noticed a lump under Amanda's clothing and boxes of - "WHAT is that?!"

Amanda broke her hopeful look at Cecile, and looked up at Rmwtyliin, then down at what she was staring that. "This", she said picking up the box holding a softball-sized eye, "is one of the eyes of something like a dragon. Baron Primordial, Nick, and Sandy were hired to guard a convoy from things like it, and they managed to kill one. Thaddeus wanted samples."

[Tiltjuice]

Calani hung back, far enough away from the group not to appear to be lurking or eavesdropping, yet close enough to still register as part of it. Waiting patiently for the scientist and Amanda to finish their conversation, she watched the rest of the room. The rabbit was still, strangely, on the godling's head. The big man with the bare arms and chef's hat was visible, every now and then, through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen.

Mathias had come over to Devine and the pair were now chatting about something. She wished the Lodge had taught her how to read lips. Curiosity abounded, even if it were only idle gossip.

[Cerillium]

GROUNDTOWN

"OwowowowoOOWOWOwowow!" The tips of Yuna's hooves scraped useless furrows in the ground but, try as she might, the gravity knocked her down and fixed in place. She might have dropped right through her shadow to escape the magic, had she thought of it. Instead, she scrabbled and wailed in protest of both her cemented position and the Chancellor's teeth on her lovely tail.

"Aeeeegis! Do something!"

Maybe it was a spell with an area of effect? Maybe, just maybe, if she kicked hard enough she might get to a spot outside the spell's scope? Powerful rear legs slowly pushed her ass from the hard ground. One inch. Two inches. The right leg pushed her forward, knees trembling at the effort, and Yuna found her face sliding forward just a bit. The gravity kept her cheek firmly pressed against the dirt. All she was doing was sliding her skull along her own tissue. The leg buckled and grew still.

Yuna's tongue flopped out, but it was a lousy appendage for crawling with. The tip tapped the earth once before gravity pooled it into a fleshy whoopie cushion just outside her mouth. She couldn't blink with her skin stretched. In fact, it made her look somewhat mad - or perhaps as though she were riding a funny astronaut chair to experience all the joys of a centrifuge.

"Hayhess!" Lips drooped to join the tongue on the ground. "Hayhess! Hoo huh'hun!"

[Granis]

"BAH!" Iso shouted, his head shooting up from the table and staring around him. He was in... a meeting?

It took a moment for his memories to catch up with him, before he went pale.

"Oh... Oh no..." He said slowly, staring around him to see if anyone noticed. "Did I really fall asleep?"

Ok, alright. Stop panicking. Breath.

You fell asleep during the meeting in the multi universal meeting, and there's not a lot you can do about that. What's the last thing you remember?

Something about gardening, and healing... Maybe? Ok, alright, use those to salvage the situation.

"Um..." He said, looking over to a nearby group, almost fainting when he saw a Felyne, after readying himself for an afterlife filled with complete unfamiliarity. He'd have to talk to it after making his inquiry. "Hi, my names Shiromainu Iso, and I seem to have been... in a daze... for part of the meeting. Someone mentioned a garden, and learning how to help with medicine, and I have some things I want to talk to them about. Do any of you remember who was in charge of those?"

Ok, that was the hard part down. Now he just hoped he hadn't missed anything else that was important...

[The BranRiech]

Drova

Drova chalked up Mag's weird understanding as just a hunch. He figured he probably looked the part of "Bored and brooding teen" and quickly sat up at attention, starting to rap his knuckles against the table to keep himself occupied. "I'd appreciate that." He responded to Mag's offer with a slight smile, the joke actually hitting it's target too, caused him to even chuckle a bit, a far cry from how he'd spent most of the meeting already. "Well at least someone believes in me, and is real of course." He thought back to Paper-Yuna, and how she was the last person who'd been as encouraging.

Then Neste hinted at the possibility of going to Maghrl's home piqued his interest, finally getting him into the flow of information again. His right hand reached up to brush some hair from his face (Almost involuntarily after years of doing it), and his left hand continued knocking on the table, a constant tap-tap-tap that let him know he was still awake.

"Would... Would I be able to go along?" He whispered over to the Jedi sitting next to him. "I want to prove myself. But... I'm worried I'd fuck up, right?" He felt comfortable enough to inform Mag, his sister and Torii were of course, the only other people he'd let know, but anyone with a passing glance at the young Prince would show that he was unnerved, though ambitious... He just needed to find a channel, a way to convince himself that he could do it.

Drova yawned, waiting on Mag's answer, he started to notice that the meeting was largely over, as residents were seemingly starting to split up into their own conversations and groups once again.

"Oh, uh want to go now?" He asked.

[Holy Lykos]

Dining Room

"Drova definitely come along, yes yes. Drova need see where Force is strongest. Drova fit in too: Many many many many species-wise back home. Whole galaxy to explore! Maghrl have Drova visiting Force-user Orgs sometime, yes yes..." The gears of ideas were churning in his head, as he smiles brightly. He already had a ton of ideas for how to train Drova. It wouldn't be easy, he was excessively old for just approaching the force.

"Drova not 'Fuck Up' no no. Myra come too, maybe? If able to, Myra smart, seem resourceful. Insidious-person too, if only one able handle artifact-of-danger, She have come along. "The squib scratched his chin for a moment, before nodding. "We head off at first abletime. Can't rush off, Leader-types need to know, provide req-ideas for whichtype being bring along. Leadertypes know more than Mag, yes yes. But first!"

The squib shuffled up and over the table so he was sitting opposite of Drova again. "Drova! Close eyes. Focus inward, calm self. Mag wanna show Drova something." The small alien reached over the table, having to stand up himself to do so and grabbed onto both of Drova's hands. He then closed his eyes, breathing in deeply before exhaling slowly. He maintained the steady breathing pattern as he resumed talking. "Focus on Mag, with mind. Reach out, without reach body-wise. Feel Maghrl in Force..." The hand holding was pretty much utterly unnecessary, but with someone as inexperienced as Drova, it was a good placebo.

"Focus mind, Focus spirit. Feel Maghrl, Feel Force flow 'tween Magh and Drov. Once Drova do, relax focus. Feel connection, presence otherswise in room. Paper-beings, real... Try recognize without looking."

[Cerillium]

DINING ROOM

Myra fervently nodded. She never got to go through Gates, a fact that sometimes annoyed her. "I'd love to come along, Maghrl," she beamed, though her smile faded just as quickly. "Er, if they let me. I suppose it all comes down to how I do during Basic and Advanced training?"

The Oracle had a bit more insight than some. Neste had quietly taken her aside to explain her importance - a bit of job security considering Myra had allowed herself to be altered to commune with Dweezle. However she, like the rest, weren't guaranteed a spot on the teams. That all depended upon how well she paid attention, and whether or not she was active to some extent. The teen scratched her head at the fourth wall break but said nothing of it.


Thaddeus had excused himself to speak with one of the cultists regarding his weapons cache. He had volunteered his spares, offered a tidy list of things too big to carry, and returned to his seat to find the others in conversation.

"The more we know about the local flora and fauna, the better we can harness resources closer to home," the acrid scent of ozone drifted from old cyborg as he sighed and eased himself into his chair. Silvery orbs shuttered behind half-closed eyelids offered no indication of where he looked or even who he was looking at. He turned his face toward Cecile. "Welcome to a place where Logic is housed in a giant dog-lizard, and the shadows are your best source for gossip."

His mouth's corners flickered into a slight smile. "It's not so bad here. As to why Demens takes a hands off approach? Amanda is partially correct. He does need guidance. But he also has long worked from the comfort of his own dimension. Believe it or not, pantheons adhere to whatever their red tape agreements dictate. Those Greater Beings that remain involved in the omniverse respect that and play along."

A scarred hand gestured to the massive machine looming in the dining room's far corner. "When the Drones attacked the Earth, no gods lifted a finger. I don't know what agreements were made but, as members of my home dimension's pantheon were with us, I can tell you that it was a frustrating experience for all. The general feel was that the gods realized mankind needed to stand on its own two feet. They did, successfully, the first invasion. The last was more brutal. Chaos - the pantheon - has splinters of their gods among our numbers. They defied all agreements to offer protection to the citizens of Vafflehelm. They did so by using their cultists to guard shelters. Sadly, they weren't powerful enough to do more for the rest of the world. And Elohim came in after another invasion and, likewise, offered a middle finger to the pantheons. He restored all the souls of those that had perished during that invasion. Yellow King's, if I recall correctly. This shit all tends to blur after a while."

A frown captured his expression. Thaddeus had rambled, and was now off track. "Demens has always operated overtly, quietly building up his forces while the pantheons waged their wars. Greater Beings are unknown to most of these pantheons. Were they to find out, they might throw the cosmos into greater jeopardy in their thirst to become even more powerful. There seems to exist a quiet pact between Greater Beings that, to better protect us, their identity and existence must remain secret. Some are more open with their offspring, such as those that created born-gods. Giovenith is a prime example of that. A godling, the daughter of the Greater Being Pearlelei. Jesus, as he is commonly known on Earth now, is another example, the son of the Greater Being Elohim."

He shrugged. "Elohim lurks to meddle in Demens' affairs. It's rumored that you can seek Him in the Boiler Room, Amanda." A snort accompanied these words. "Giovenith and Charumati are afraid of Him, or else so respectful towards Him that they don't dare cross Him. He is capricious and wise, kindly but not Someone you'd want to insult." To the rest, he clarified, "Gods aren't genies that grant wishes. Greater Beings, such as Elohim and Demens, won't suffer a fool's errand. If they take the time to address your questions, you had better have good ones to ask. They won't manifest - to behold them in their Godhood state is to die. Don't know what causes death, don't care. Don't plan to pester any of them anytime soon."

A second shrug hefted his massive shoulders as his smile intensified. "When walking among mortals, Demens is a withered and stooped old man. Elohim prefers to dress as a humble maintenance man. Jesus worked the docks. Satan was a top prosecutor in Bielefeld. Charumati - hard to describe, and the one with us now seems to be different than the one that was with us before. Klaus is content to be Klaus. Fritz will unnerve you with his German glare. Giovenith is just a young lady with a lot of useful paper. The Greater Beings and truly potent gods will never put on a show. The ones that manifest and throw their weight around - worthless hacks craving power. Fuck them. Kill them before they soil the carpet and leave shit piles under the table."

He paused in reflection. "That's why Naomi - herself a godling at the time, and one from a pantheon considered evil by fools following shitty do-gooder morals - stood up to Yellow King. She didn't manifest. She walked down the street out of love for humanity. She was willing to sacrifice herself for us, and not a flicker of power did she reveal. That's why Giovenith is so loved by Residents. People forget that she's a god. She would rather be a neighbor, a friend, that happens to also be capable of magic. It's not a ruse. It's a desire to help, to protect."

Realizing he was still babbling, Thaddeus drew silent and fetched his half-filled coffee mug. "Might as well top it off before I go."


An extremely large and scarred man thrust a tree-limb sized arm into the air. "Shiromainu iso?" The priestly robe's brown sleeve, captured by gravity, slid down to reveal a calloused palm and dirty fingernails. "I'm Deuce. If you're interested in the gardens, I'm holding a meeting when we get back from Basic." The limb lowered. Deuce folded his hands and set them on the table, returning to his conversation with the purple-skinned creature (Blythe the Succubus, of course) seated beside him.


The six-limbed space weasel burst into barked laughter as the dog-dragon-thing outside the windows slowly retracted her head. A thick finger wiped laughter's tear from his cheek as he rose. The movement dislodged the bipedal lizard-woman that had, until now, remained curled against him for warmth. Whatever the joke was, it wasn't about to be shared. Her mouth parted in a yawn to reveal sharp teeth and a long, pink tongue.

"Have you ever noticed that we're all hyphenated in our descriptions?" She, like Thaddeus, seemed intent on breaking the fourth wall today.

Ocho - the weasel-thing - scratched his head at the notion before writing it off as a construct's typically daft rhetoric.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if someone created an archive that had our pictures in it?" she prattled on, "And then nobody would need to hyphenate anything."

"The fuck you going on about?" Ocho's soft facial folds drifted into a grumpy frown.

The lizard stretched and rose. "Your handler is a twat. You'd think he would have finished his shit so everyone could have their own entry."

Said handler grunted and paused in his typing.

Jesus fuck, is this what happens when you're run thin with exhaustion? I suppose so. I probably should preface this with an 'OOC' but, you know, just roll with it.

"He'll probably do it this weekend, depending upon his fatigue," Ocho played along with Nila, silently praying his handler (or whatever it was she was babbling on about) would do something to shut her up.

He was about to add that this 'handler' being was probably too busy to write anything about poor Paper Brit, and would likely apologize to all the other handlers over his absence the week prior, but this became unnecessary because, at that exact moment, the SCP vending machine lifted its skirts and promptly shot McClelland's single malt scotch whisky at both of them, thus driving them out of the dining room and this very scene.


LOBBY

Paper Brit did, in fact, have some of the handler's attention. It probably wasn't to her liking. The phone booth doors were closed, and two black uniformed cultists (or Residents? It was now hard to tell the difference between them) stood chatting outside the door to the booth's left. They looked up as she approached.

"Sorry, miss, you've just missed them."

Their handler was unable to write for them, you see, being on leave the entire week (and probably the weekend). This handler is supposed to be cranking out a one-shot, mind, but as Nila astutely point out, he's a twat. Now in my own defense, I really am dragging. However -

One of the uniformed men handed Brit a lollipop. "Right, just wave it along as you go, there's a good lass. Can't promise nuffink-" his Eastender accent betrayed his status as a Lad "-an' best make it quick, on account of the ladies being cranky."

He shrugged and returned to assailing his colleague with a vibrant recounting of his useless hobby - trainspotting.

[Primordial Luxa]

Groundtown - But not actually “Groundtown”
Aegis paused for a moment to inspect the scenario, he didn’t want to rush headlong into the trap himself and instead stood by for a moment trying to get an idea of just how broad and immersive the effects of the trap where. Once he thought he had a good idea of the best angle of attack he moved forwards. “Keep your teeth tight on here tail,” he said.

Moving towards a portion of the symbol that seemed very close to the edge of the spells effect Aegis stuck a paw into the trap. His hoof exploded into a ball of malicious hate fueled fire as he tried to channel his rage and anguish at being such a spectator in this terrible situation. Pushing against whatever positive or negative gravity effects present themselves he tried to destroy a part of the symbol and the ground it was on hoping to ruin the spell and it’s power.

RAIDERS of the LOST BOOK

OPERATION: BIBLIOPHILE
LOCATION: Alexandria, Egypt, Dimension 257P
RotLB

Primordial joined Sandy as he looked out over the city and joined in snapping a series of discrete pictures with his own devices. Overall the city wasn’t entirely different from what he had expected but it was all of the little details that he hadn’t imagined that make it intriguing. The unique smells and sounds combined with the radiant atmosphere that uniquely blanketed the place.

Primordial took another look around the Cabin as they neared the docks and prepared to exit the boat. He wanted to make sure that not a trace of himself, his technology or his presence could be detected in this place. He was not only worried about attracting unwanted attention here in Alexandria but across the universes which he traveled to. If the portal they had taken wasn’t secured against Tindalos then they might have some unwanted attention on their trail.

[The Arthurian Isles]

Steingrímur remained silent. He was a traveller by nature; he had trekked through the rainforests occident and climbed the mountains of the orient and, of course, he had been drawn almost instinctively to the cold Antarctic wastes. He had seen much of his world that would have brought envy to his friends and had lapped up every foreign culture he had encountered. He was, in short, an adaptable man. Perhaps his study of natural history made him so, denying him the shock on discovery of varied and beautiful creatures that affected so many others whom he had known. Or perhaps it was his own profound insecurity - when one does not truly know themselves, after all, they tend to be open to they mysteries of fresh findings and the answers inherent therein. Every time he did stumble upon a sight never before seen to him, he would quietly consider it and assimilate the newfound information into his understanding of life. It was his manner; he was naturally silent.

In that dining room, however, Steingrímur did not speak not because he chose so, but simply because he could not. In spite of a life of travel, he saw before him a collection of specimens so outlandish that he was without rational thought or speech. His mind was too occupied taking in the sights of talking ostriches and future beings to accept them outright. To complicate matters, he was being bombarded with information which made almost no sense to him. Thus he stood, without questions or contributions to make, by the wall of the dining room, his brain in a state of overwhelmed shutdown.

Not that such thoughts could be discerned from his face alone. Steingrímur, as well as being a quiet man, was eerily still. He stood planted to the spot, hands held together at his front as if both solid and shy at the same time. His held his head straight and his unsmiling gaze remained staunchly forward. The only sense of nervousness was in his eyes. They flickered around the room incessantly, searching for the smallest details to help piece together the puzzle of his new surroundings, though they never remained staring in one place for more than a second. Even as speaker followed speaker he did not look them in the eye. He listened intently, lapping up the knowledge they offered, but his watch was directed always towards this non-stop probing of the room and its occupants. Only when a new arrival entered part way through the meeting did Steingrímur cease from his anxiety. He craned his neck slowly to see a girl, almost as disoriented as he was. His eyes fell on her and there remained, but their expression was not just curiosity. They beheld a rhadamantine judgement which scoured deeper than the sideways glances that came from elsewhere in the room.

Steingrímur had decided. By the end of the meeting he sent his attention back to the new girl. She was talking to a gentleman - the same one who had asked about being a 'jack-of-all-trades' - about specialised skills. It might be best, he thought, if he were to introduce himself at this point, lest he pass up on the chance to befriend the only other person who seemed to be in his situation.

He was a tall man, and his seriousness was unnerving at first impressions, especially when he introduced himself with that piercing stare of his. But Steingrímur did not realise this of himself, and so with no change in his manner he approached the two. He bowed, straight-backed and formally in the manner of his countrymen - it was both a greeting and a sign of respect.

"I believe we are all new here." He said. His accent was soft and melodic, though it held within it the latent power of the Nordic tongue. "I am Steingrímur. All this talk of specialisations. I would agree with you, friend, that we must follow more than one path should we feel the calling." He nodded to the other man in the group. "I am a naturalist by profession, though I am compelled to the theological arts in my heart."

[Truth Incarnate]

Cecile Tucker

A scientist? She has a doctorate in higher pretention? Or is that just regular conversation where she comes from? And how do I enter this conversation. "I'd try a simpler explanation: we're so varied because Demens doesn't know who or what he needs, and simply grabs whoever looks good. Klaus did say he's a poor judge of what needs to be done."

"You raised a good point earlier: why does Demens need our help? He seems to have the raw ability -- he made or made off with all of Galli -- and if he just needs advice for what to do, he doesn't need us playing soldier. I'm Amanda Bela, by the way. Glad to meet you...?" Amanda hoped she would recognize that as an invitation to introduce herself.

Cecile looked over at this girl, talking to her out of the blue. Cecile didn't even know how she got that close, and her attention was almost immediately pulled away from her current conversation with Henry. Turning around, she noticed her almost childlike appearance, and the way those platinum locks just sort of rolled naturally off her shoulders, going this way and that... Though as a scientist she, *ahem* couldn't be paying attention to... Superficial things like that. After all, that was for the arts majors! Right?

Copy-pasting that eternally useful, neutral and most especially professional greeting that strangers gave to each-other when both were mutually respected or feared by one another, Cecile reached out with one hand.

"Oh, hello there. My name is Cecile Tucker. Nice to meet you Amanda. I'm a scientist and a mutant, if you need to know why I'm here. And by god... How do you keep your hair that wa-"

"I believe we are all new here." He said. His accent was soft and melodic, though it held within it the latent power of the Nordic tongue. "I am Steingrímur. All this talk of specialisations. I would agree with you, friend, that we must follow more than one path should we feel the calling." He nodded to the other man in the group. "I am a naturalist by profession, though I am compelled to the theological arts in my heart."

Cecile almost leapt out of her skin when she realised that this huge, wolf-like man standing behind her had probably been observing her conversation for ages now. Come to think of it, she'd been doing the same to Henry, and Amanda had done the same to her... Why was eavesdropping apparently so prevalent among these people!? Ah well. It was harmless anyway, and this man seemed to carry himself with a sort of closed body language, a strong gaze, but a wilted torso angle. Obviously, he was every bit as shy as a child, though his appearance would never get him mistaken for one, for sure.

"Oh, hello. My name's Cecile Tucker, and uh... Yes, I agree to... You agreeing to me? Ah, we're getting off on the wrong foot. My name is Cecile Tucker, biologist and Doctorate at your service, mister... Uhh, just Steingrímur then, I guess."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Cecile reached out with one hand. "Oh, hello there. My name is Cecile Tucker. Nice to meet you Amanda. I'm a scientist and a mutant, if you need to know why I'm here. And by god... How do you keep your hair that wa-"

Amanda shook the offered hand, and started to reply, but was cut off by Cecile's frightened reaction. Seeing another unfamiliar person behind Cecile, she rose to her feet.

"I believe we are all new here." [...] "I am Steingrímur. All this talk of specialisations. I would agree with you, friend, that we must follow more than one path should we feel the calling." He nodded to the other man in the group. "I am a naturalist by profession, though I am compelled to the theological arts in my heart."

"Oh, hello. My name's Cecile Tucker, and uh... Yes, I agree to... You agreeing to me? Ah, we're getting off on the wrong foot. My name is Cecile Tucker, biologist and Doctorate at your service, mister... Uhh, just Steingrímur then, I guess."

Amanda listened politely to the exchanged introductions, before returning to the conversation. "Good to meet you, Cecile, Steingrímur." She nodded to each in turn, and glanced at -- and bobbed her head to -- Calani to acknowledge her presence. She faced the newcomers again, and thought out loud, partially for the new Residents' benefits. "Two scientists...? I wonder what Demens has in mind for scientists while moving to a war footing. Back home, I'd have said weapons development, but back home, gods aren't active and dimension-hopping isn't something people just do." She smiled at them both: this world wasn't hers either, though she was growing used to it.

She shifted posture, taking one wrist in the other hand, and turned slightly to Steingrímur. With polite caution, she clarified one matter. She neither wanted to embarrass the new Resident nor leave him with a mistaken impression. "Oh... my husband Sandy and I have lived here, in this Building, for two years, but it's been only been in this dimension for a little over a year. Sorry if that adds too much to what you're already having to make sense of."

[Saldinado]

Hearing her mention that she was a scientist made the young man a little more interested in her. Although the way that she presented herself in that manner to address her profession and her comment seemed to allow her to give off a sense of confidence and pride. Hearing her speak about what she thought about the entirety of the situation, he crossed his legs a little tighter and grunted quietly out of instinct.
As she spoke, he was already going through predictions, calculations, and analyzing in his head about the ways that this person in front of him could act either when in such a conversation as this or in a more professional scene, and even a jocular setting so-to-speak.
Though before all of that can even happen, the scientist in beside him turned their attention towards Amanda and as a moth to a flame, he too turned to face the two ladies, rather confused and intrigued by her rather curious and nature; just like a scientist would one would guess. But nevertheless when his attention along with the others were now fixated on the one that came near them. Looking up at the one that went by the name Steingrímur, Henry softly sighed to himself before listening to him apparently agree to what he said. Nodding once and grunting softly, he spoke to him after Cecile was done with her introductions.

"Hello sir," he said quickly and businesslike, "nice to meet you. Henry." He then turned towards the female that gave her title beforehand and nodded to her as well. "Nice to meet you too madame; Henry. And I see that you're a biologist. In fact, I'm in the same field as you; zoologist to be more precise." There was still the quick and businesslike tone to it; although it was less severe than the one that he gave to Steingrímur. Pushing his glasses upon his face as they started to slip off of the bridge of his nose, he continued with his introduction. "Though even so, you're a Doctorate, yes? Quite interesting. Interesting indeed. So in which section of biology are you in? Molecular? Evolutionary? Micro?" As he asked the questions, he looked towards the man next to him for a quick second and flashed a small, almost apologetic smile at him for his rather blunt and almost mundane introduction and then turned to face the one that he was asking the questions to and waited for a response.

[Chedastan]

Nivea
Dining Room

Nivea tried her best to keep track of the many talks going in the meeting after she had her own question about the Administration Branch answered, in which she was at least quite fortunate about to hear that she wouldn't be stuck forever in one particular branch. Now that the meeting has gone on for quite a bit, and questions for the most part had stopped being asked, she had a good feeling they were going to move on shortly, probably to basic training as soon as possible. She wondered how much longer their meeting would be in this recess state though, as she had wanted to get back to Amanda to maybe have a talk about her having mentioned that she had 'flashbacks' too.

The Nevidian courier turned around and saw that two of the newer residents that had just very recently joined them were now with Amanda, maybe she could still asked her about what she mentioned earlier? She certainly didn't want to intrude on whatever it is they were conversing about, but she had a feeling they wouldn't mind too much if she talked to Amanda. She promptly moved over to where they were, waving a polite hello to both Cecile and Steingrímur, before talking into Amanda's ear. She wasn't whispering exactly, but she tried to speak clearly and privately enough with Amanda that she would hear her just fine.

"You mentioned having 'flashbacks' earlier before the meeting, are you free now? I wanted to talk to you about them, before they have us move on to something else." She then asked her.

[The BranRiech]

Drova

"Thanks." Drova nodded in appreciation, thankful someone wanted him to come along and do something.

He had been starting to think he would fall through the cracks, be forgotten and left behind. As much as he wanted to go off right at that very moment, considering he felt he was ready, Mag was right. They'd be better off waiting for a more opportune time, and a more well thought out plan as well. He shuddered to think what would happen if those in charge found out that they were going in totally unprepared.

His eyes followed the diminutive little Alien, as he moved back over to sit in front of the Prince. He did as asked, when asked. Eyes closed and standing up, Drova put both of his hands down on Mag's, and listened, trying the best he could. Whatever was asked of him seemed out of his reach, however. Mag's request fell unanswered. "I-I can't... Or at least, I don't know what I'm trying to sense."

He let himself take a step back from the table, eyes still tightly shut. He tried once again, to clear his mind of distractions, to 'see' each person in the room without even looking.

But nothing.

He opened his eyes again, the golden orange pupils blinking open and shut. "I didn't really feel anything... But I felt more, relaxed? Did you see anything?" He swiveled on his heel and looked at Myra.

[Holy Lykos]

DINING ROOM

Maghrl sighed and frowned, pulling his hands back from the princes. "Yes... Mag explain poorly. First point! Not 'see' with eyes. But 'see' with Mind" He tapped his head a few times, and smiled. "Strange concept, yes yes. Feel presence, life force, through Force. Mag need to get proper Holocron to teach Drova concepts of Force, yes yes."

The squib paused then, his nose twitching a bit. For once the excitable Jedi was surprisingly still, and solemn. Thinking, and contemplating. It was rather odd, given how energetic, excitable, and eager Maghrl alwys seemed to be. He actually was sitting still!

Maghrl let out a long breath he’d apparently been holding in and closed his eyes. The Jedi brought his hands together, taking a brief moment to let himself relax in the flow of the Force. But soon enough the Jedi could no longer help himself but move, his eyes shooting open, the extremely light blue eyes glancing between Drova and Myra before settling on his ‘apprentice’. The Jedi shook himself out, fur standing up a bit more before he resumed speaking, slower than he normally spoke. He needed Drova to understand what he was saying next.

"… Drova new. Most Jedi learnwise from young young agetime, yes yes. Whole lifetime immersed in Force. It reasonwise Mag want Drova come with on adventure. Later Mag take Drova for timewise with Force Orders. Many many of 'em, you bet. Explore galaxy, learn Force, specialize like Klaus-Herr says!" He apparently picked up the cultists tended to call certain leaders Herr, at some point or another. He glanced over at Myra for a moment, flashing a bright, irrepressible grin, before taking on a serious face once more to resume.

"Myra right. Basic first. Get used working Klausway, Working together groupwise. Need muscle for group too. Ask Ops-people for Rec-person. Universe dangerous. If go against Imp-types, need strong fighter! Balance out Mag's fastmove, other strengthwise people. Insidious look not Strongwise, outwardly. Feel strange force-wise though. Not sure. Need talk-speak with strangerone.

"Mag teach Drova during mission, too. Also when backtime from Mission. Drova need balance, center self, feel Force properly. Drova need 'Saber too!" He beamed, obviously not discouraged by this initial failure. It was just another challenge, eh?

His ears both twitched, picking up snippets of conversation from around the room before focusing on Myra and Drova again. The alien nodded, before continuing. "Myra, Drova do great Basic-train-wise, Mag feel. Smart, Determined. Good beings, you bet! Basic good experience. Bonding! Maybe funwise it not, but useful, Mag bets!”

[Truth Incarnate]

Amanda listened politely to the exchanged introductions, before returning to the conversation. "Good to meet you, Cecile, Steingrímur." She nodded to each in turn, and glanced at -- and bobbed her head to -- Calani to acknowledge her presence. She faced the newcomers again, and thought out loud, partially for the new Residents' benefits. "Two scientists...? I wonder what Demens has in mind for scientists while moving to a war footing. Back home, I'd have said weapons development, but back home, gods aren't active and dimension-hopping isn't something people just do." She smiled at them both: this world wasn't hers either, though she was growing used to it.

Cecile shrugged, a casual gesture that most would not have associated with her composure and apparent clinical professionalism. It was a bit dissonant, to be truthful, but it was a gesture she'd picked up from years of experience in a situation of permanent tension, and it was one that helped to humanise herself in the eyes of uncaring, or aggressive others. Often just enough to avoid some sort of confrontation or otherwise.

"Well, they might ask me to develop weapons, considering the field of work I was in. I focused for a while on... Well, I'd rather not say, but it was dangerous research. I refuse to create any sort of weapon for Demens, no matter how righteous the cause. I have a strict code, and frankly, the Hippocratic Oath runs far deeper than a doctor's relation to their patient. Although, I do wonder what else they could possibly want us to do."

"Nice to meet you too madame; Henry. And I see that you're a biologist. In fact, I'm in the same field as you; zoologist to be more precise." There was still the quick and businesslike tone to it; although it was less severe than the one that he gave to Steingrímur. Pushing his glasses upon his face as they started to slip off of the bridge of his nose, he continued with his introduction. "Though even so, you're a Doctorate, yes? Quite interesting. Interesting indeed. So in which section of biology are you in? Molecular? Evolutionary? Micro?" As he asked the questions, he looked towards the man next to him for a quick second and flashed a small, almost apologetic smile at him for his rather blunt and almost mundane introduction and then turned to face the one that he was asking the questions to and waited for a response.

Cecile turned to Henry, the original one she'd been talking to. It faintly occurred to her that she had been the one to start the conversation, and begin the entire debacle. This was getting a little bit ridiculous. She wasn't used to social situations, but damn if she wasn't going to try to fit in. The act of dictation wouldn't come in handy here. There were too many things to focus on at one time.

"Oh, I worked on some very esoteric subjects during my career. I'm not sure whether I'm comfortable discussing it, but suffice it to say that I suffer from the "affliction" that my work centred around "curing" or suppressing. It wasn't anything overtly harmful, it just rendered us social outcasts. I guess it was mostly genetics and bio engineering, with virology being one of the sciences I dabbled into while searching for my "cure". Don't worry, it's not infectious, and neither is it harmful."

[Cerillium]

DINING ROOM

A blush tinged Myra's cheeks. She smiled at Maghrl's compliment. "I hope so, 'cause otherwise I'm pretty useless."

Her hands wrapped around her empty coffee cup as she blew stray fringe from her eyes. "But I dunno, Mags." The Jedi had confidence, but he was a Jedi, after all. He knew the Force. He had probably seen a lot of battles. Hell, he'd even gone to some distant place that nobody had seen in forever, and found a light saber belonging to a dead Jedi, and got chosen to come to the Building.

"I wasn't really chosen," the whispered confession tumbled from lips quivered too much to mask her doubts with a false smile. "I was young, and it was my father that lived here. He was called in to do work for the cultists, or maybe it was for Bielefeld. I don't know. I never saw him. He should be here, not me. I'm a tag-along." She released the cup to capture Drova's gaze, then shifted to peer into the Squib's eyes. "It was nice of them to make me an Oracle and all, but-"

But what? She wasn't like her father. "What if I'm a fuck-up and they send me home?"

The teen fumbled with a side pocket and produced a cigarette pack. Most of the officers were gone. She doubted anyone would bitch at her. Thin fingers worked a stick from its brethren and then propped it in her mouth. Lips clamped at one corner to hold it while she lit it, she peered at Drova once more. "I mean, I guess Drova and I have that in common," she exhaled puffs with her words before pausing to take a refreshing drag. "Him and Yuna, and me, and the big guns like Bran and Thad, or the avatars. We all came on our own. I hear Bran dug a tunnel all the way to the original city just to escape conscription. So are we chosen? Did Demens stick thoughts in our heads, or inclinations and that's how we got here?"

A sigh, this one tinted by grey tobacco smoke. "Dweezle says 'no'. He says we remained here because we have a certain something, like pure grit or else just...something that makes us special. We are Chosen, too. But I still doubt myself." The girl pushed through her own shyness to pat Drova's hand. "But you, a Jedi? That's so fucking awesome, Drova. I know you'll be good at it."


LOBBY

"They're sending me to work with who?" Marcus eyed the paper Volker handed to him moments before.

"Temir," Volker sniffled. "Minerva's orders."

The fuck is a 'temir'? To Marcus, the name came close to 'lemur', and his brain flushed with visions of a squeaky, big-eyed animal wagging a wrench.

"I'd prefer to work with one of my fathers," he snorted. "And-"

Volker slapped a palm onto the desk's counter top. "You are going to work with Temir. That's final. The BP facility needs all the extra hands it can get-"

"-We have so many fucking tech priests-"

"-and Minerva trusts in your ability to do it properly, as does Neste."

Marcus grew silent. Minerva thought that highly of him? Minerva? She scared the fuck out of him most days and, on the days she didn't, it was because he had chosen to hide himself in the Building's bowels.

Volker narrowed his eyes. "You can't lock yourself away forever, Marcus. Nobody is going to allow you to convince yourself that you're unwanted simply because of that standoff on the beach. You have skills and talents, like others of your kind, but you're also more involved with your neighbors. Temir needs that insight."

"Alright." A resigned sigh accompanied the word. "Let me get my things."

A bright thought came to him just as he set his hand on the knob. He turned towards Volker. "Hey, maybe I can convert this Temir to follow the Great Machine?"

The Admin Officer's barked laughter haunted him all the way down the hall.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"You mentioned having 'flashbacks' earlier before the meeting, are you free now? I wanted to talk to you about them, before they have us move on to something else." She then asked her.

Amanda turned her head to better catch Nivea's words, eyes cast down and towards that side. She nodded stiffly as Nivea finished: she did raise the subject, even if it wasn't the easiest to talk about. She inclined her head towards Nivea to whisper a reply. "We can talk after the meeting. Training doesn't start until the morning."

"Well, they might ask me to develop weapons, considering the field of work I was in. I focused for a while on... Well, I'd rather not say, but it was dangerous research. I refuse to create any sort of weapon for Demens, no matter how righteous the cause. I have a strict code, and frankly, the Hippocratic Oath runs far deeper than a doctor's relation to their patient. Although, I do wonder what else they could possibly want us to do."

Amanda brightened, smiling, mentally adding another tally mark to her count of moral people. "'First, do no harm'? I'm glad there's another person here with some scruples."

Amanda let that hang in the air for a moment, then gestured toward the display of fire lizard organs on the table, including the eye she'd put down without being aware of it. "As for ways of applying your skills, there's these to analyze. They come from something you might call a dragon, although it isn't. I'm sure that as we go on more missions, we'll find other unusual living things that will need to be studied. Possibly even entire worlds that need to be explored. Demens probably has something in mind, or he wouldn't have scooped up so many biologists in such a short period of time."

[Tiltjuice]

"You are the Building's legal counsel, are you not? It seems to be rather a frenetic career." Calani rolled her shoulders in an expansive shrug. "Two zoologists and a naturalist. It's a pleasure to make all of your respective acquaintances - Cecile, Henry and Steingrímur. Please call me Calani; I'm the Building's publicist. Have you met Mathias?" She held up a hand, palm up, gesturing at the naturopath, and then in the same movement reached out and gently ushered Amanda aside.

"Two matters that have come up - one Building-related and one personal. First, I'd like to thank you for the job you've taken on here. As I said, it seems to keep you quite busy; and I think having the security systems help you out in some aspect or another would be quite beneficial. Would you mind, perhaps, having a meeting with Bob and Morbus? And second, I'm told you are the person to talk to, to find out more about the situation in Ascalon. I'm hoping to set up shop, as it were, and I'm hoping not to run into red tape. Or worse, find myself in prison."

Back with the group, Mathias bowed slightly to each of the newer Residents in turn. "Please let me know how I can help you with each of your pursuits - whether that's with locating plants for you, or otherwise providing alternative first aid in the form of acupuncture or acupressure."

[The BranRiech]

Drova

He'd kept a rather neutral face throughout Mag's explanation. It was disheartening to say the least that he was much older than normal for learning the way of the Force. But he was still hopeful that even if he didn't unlock some hidden power, he'd improve the skills he already had and become a better person. "I'll be sure to do my best." Drova looked down at his hands, wishing the Jedi's past few tricks and tests had panned out more positively.

For what it was worth, he listened on to the further and finer details of Mag's plan, and politely waited his turn for Myra to weigh in.

He was taken aback as she started talking, putting down his own cup of coffee, mid-sip.

"I mean..."

What was he supposed to say? That he felt exactly the same, or something stupid and sappy? Myra had just spilled her guts out in front of Drova, who had started looking a little guilty himself, knowing the same negative emotions that his friend spoke of.

"You're here, aren't you? I mean, we're Chosen because we're here." He smiled. His stupid and sappy response sounded too good to go unsaid. One of the last things he wanted was to see his friends and neighbors feeling down, even if he was the cause. "Sorry, but I've been feeling that way a lot recently." His shoulders rose, looking up from his reflection in the dark liquid. "Feeling like I don't belong, feeling like I'll be useless in everything. But yeah... I believe that's the story." He ended with a smile. "You two should have heard his Wife's stories. Yuna used to watch their young child."

[Holy Lykos]

Dining Room - Maghrl

Maghrl's ears flicked back as he listened to the discussion, and the doubts. It didn't help that such raw emotion transmitted easily through the Force, either. Jedi being great empaths, the squib couldn't help but feel similar emotions. Its not like he didn't have doubts himself. It was the state of almost all intelligent life to have them, at some point or another. Well not narcissists, but they were a special case.

So Maghrl decided to share a bit of his own doubts. He glanced up at the two of them with ears plastered back against his head which made him seem even smaller than normal as he set his hands, held together with fingers knit, on the table in front of him. He cleared his throat a bit before starting.

"Mag may Chosen be, yes yes. But not absent doubtwise, no not at all. Maghrl... too passionfill, too un-cautious. Not connect with Force well, compare to some Jedi. Emotional extremeness dangerous with Force. Easy lead to Darkness. To nastiness, yes? Dangerous is passion. Few Jedi naturally passionfill and stay in Order. Old Jedi Mace Windu, who savewise Squib homeworld long ago, one of few. Manage court passion into strength, scraping Dark yet saying Lightfill, yes yes. Mag no want go to Darkwise, ever. Mag doubt if able to keep Light though, if so passionfill. Species make being Jedi... hard. Squib mind rulewise by emotion often, yes yes. Desire, Passions, all sorts emotions. Rare Squib be Force-sensewise, too.

"Maghrl feel... no superstrong in Force, often. Mag going be researcher for new Order. No frontline against Empire, Sith. Background. Recover Jedi-things. Help build Order history-know from patchwork-rags left by Emperor-Sith. No more, being Demens-Chosen change that! But Mag unsure why. Skywalker be better choice, still alive too. One of strongest Jedi Force-sensewise ever! Mag weak. Unsure if able teach Drova well. Mag try, by the void! Magrl will try. That Squib promise, and Squib no break promises or deals. Ever." His brows furrowed at that, a determined look crossing his face before he lapsed back into the uncertain look he had before.


The squib sighed softly with the end of his little speech, wondering if he should ask Myra to refrain from smoking for her health. He wasn't sure if it was as bad as the drugs in his world though. It reminded him a bit of some of the tobacco products humans smoked. Another thing many non-humans couldn't do, due to toxic chemicals for them. Plus it smelled horrific to his senses. So he gestured to the cigarette in her mouth and then to his nose, a fairly easy to understand gesture, hopefully.

His expression brightened shortly after that though, and he grinned at the two youths sitting with him. "Mag say-wise, let all us work hard at Basic. Do best, learn limits. Be better beings, yes yes!" His expression darkened again for a moment before he resumed, his exuberance slowly showing up again as he kept on speaking.

"Maghrl want protect... everything. Agents of Eaters dangerous. Much like Sith, toying-playing around things rarely undertand-fully. Magh needs Strength, needs Balance, needs better knowledge Force-wise. Mag need help too. Drova, Myra. Both great help, likely. Complementwise to Mag's faults, pluser new perspectives. Training partnerwise too! Having new Jedi Drova be such greatness boon! Help Drova turn swordstyle to saberstyle, have spar-partner. Myra too! Myra want learn defend self? Maghrl know that too. Teach Myra defense, Jedi techniques without force-use. Plenty there, Mag can alter some too. Training room in building, yes? Holo-room? Perfect for uses!"

He practically jumped himself up onto his seat, grinning broadly. "Mag see potential in both, even if different. Maghrl do best as teach-wise Jedi, Drova do best learning, Myra too. Maghrl learn via experience, yes yes! Good plan, good deal, yes?" He held out his hand, as if to shake after making an agreement. Hell, if how he phrased it was any indication to the Squib it might as well be. It was practically an instinct of his species to turn a promise into an agreement. Along with the sayings of Squibs being able to sell a can of air minus the can, they were known for their trustworthiness after a deal was made. Of course neither would know that, but knowing Maghrl they probably knew they could trust him.

Plus who couldn't trust a small fuzzy almost fennec-fox like alien like Maghrl?

[Northwest Slobovia]

["]First, I'd like to thank you for the job you've taken on here. As I said, it seems to keep you quite busy; and I think having the security systems help you out in some aspect or another would be quite beneficial. Would you mind, perhaps, having a meeting with Bob and Morbus? And second, I'm told you are the person to talk to, to find out more about the situation in Ascalon. I'm hoping to set up shop, as it were, and I'm hoping not to run into red tape. Or worse, find myself in prison."

Amanda's politely interested expression disappeared with the suddenness of a door slamming shut: why would a stranger mention the security system out of the blue? The situation was very strange, and possibly damnably suspicious. She'd never even heard of Calani before, much less talked to her, and she managed as a lawyer perfectly well without access to the security system; it was Sandy whose job -- former job -- was hampered by not knowing what was going on in emergencies. It was possible that the mention was coincidental, but unlikely.

Somebody must have told Calani that Amanda was the Building's counsel, and somebody must have told her that she knew a lot about Ascalon. And somebody definitely told her to invite Amanda to a meeting with the beings that made up the security system; that didn't just happen by itself. But who?

Demens presumably knew of her worries about its misuse, since she'd complained to Sandy at home, and Demens was home, along with being the rest of the Building. But he rarely took a direct interest in the Residents, which made that unlikely. The same logic seemed to rule out the Building Manager. If Bob and Morbus were as potent and omnipresent as Galadriel claimed, they'd know as well, but by the same token, she claimed access to them was "need to know only": just her and Celeborn, so why would Bob and Morbus talk to Amanda directly? They might have asked or told Galadriel and Celeborn to invite her. That would fit, and seemed to make the latter the most likely candidates. Or Galadriel and Celeborn might have simply done what she worried about, and misused Bob and Morbus to eavesdrop on her and Sandy's private conversations, along with everybody else's. Galadriel refused oversight; there are few good reasons for that, and one typical bad one: power corrupts, and supernatural power corrupts utterly. Mundanes could rarely be trusted with mere political power, and when supers went bad, they went completely bad. A redhead would make a fine Dark Queen.

Hm... Anybody else? Neste just promoted herself to general, and she was a telepath, so the same reasoning applied to her: a potent snooping ability, no checks on its use. None of the choices looked good: not a single one she trusted. Was it possible one of them would have innocently wanted her to talk to Bob and Morbus? Certainly. Was it likely? Not in the slightest. Which brought her back to Calani: why send her? Why not somebody Amanda knew? What was going on here? Time to get to the bottom of it.

She regarded Calani for a moment. As far as she knew, all the Elves were men... but "Lads" and "Men" could be fine misleading names, couldn't they? Hmm. "Slow down, please, and start over. Sorry, who are you again? A publicist? Why does the Building need a publicist? And what are these other matters you want to talk to me about?"

[OOC: Yes, Amanda means Minvera and Klaus by Galadriel and Celeborn. They both had the gift of clairvoyance in LotR, and the former was tempted by supernatural power.]

[Truth Incarnate]

Amanda let that hang in the air for a moment, then gestured toward the display of fire lizard organs on the table, including the eye she'd put down without being aware of it. "As for ways of applying your skills, there's these to analyze. They come from something you might call a dragon, although it isn't. I'm sure that as we go on more missions, we'll find other unusual living things that will need to be studied. Possibly even entire worlds that need to be explored. Demens probably has something in mind, or he wouldn't have scooped up so many biologists in such a short period of time."

Cecile Tucker

Cecile looked down at the reptilian organs strewn on the table. Some were quite familiar, obviously being stomachs, lungs, a heart. Other though? They seemed rather eccentric. There was a large vascular organ with an appearance similar to a cowpat, a small dry fleshy globe and so many more. She wasn't specialised in reptiles, more so humans and other mammals, but it was still quite jarring to see such specimens laid out before her. If only she had some more time to study these, then something good might come out of it.

"A dragon? Are you sure about that? I don't doubt your credibility nor your truthfulness, but it's hard to believe that such organs might come from such a mythical creature. Actually, scratch that, it wouldn't be the most supernatural and strange thing for me to accept today. As for Demens taking so many biologists from their natural habitats and dropping them here, that's still up for debate, although he probably just needs a few specialists, considering what we might find out there. I wonder if there are some physicists in this crowd."

"You are the Building's legal counsel, are you not? It seems to be rather a frenetic career." Calani rolled her shoulders in an expansive shrug. "Two zoologists and a naturalist. It's a pleasure to make all of your respective acquaintances - Cecile, Henry and Steingrímur. Please call me Calani; I'm the Building's publicist. Have you met Mathias?" She held up a hand, palm up, gesturing at the naturopath, and then in the same movement reached out and gently ushered Amanda aside.

"Two matters that have come up - one Building-related and one personal. First, I'd like to thank you for the job you've taken on here. As I said, it seems to keep you quite busy; and I think having the security systems help you out in some aspect or another would be quite beneficial. Would you mind, perhaps, having a meeting with Bob and Morbus? And second, I'm told you are the person to talk to, to find out more about the situation in Ascalon. I'm hoping to set up shop, as it were, and I'm hoping not to run into red tape. Or worse, find myself in prison."

Cecile turned to Calani whom she'd not noticed before. She'd only realised that they'd been standing there waiting for them until Amanda began talking to someone behind Cecile herself. Turning around, getting over her initial surprise, she held out a hand, and gave a warm but calculated smile. It didn't quite reach the corners of eyes, but it was just a formality. Just another habit she'd picked up from having to compensate for the social ostracism she faced back home.

"Oh. Hello there, Calani. A pleasure to meet you. And, sorry, I do not seem to recognise this supposed "Mathias". Say, what are your qualifications? Why are you here?"

[Mincaldenteans]

Anais Adarah
Dining Room

Conversations were abound in the dining room and Anais had only just managed to spare a few moments after speaking with her fellow guildmates. Not much had been said about the Medical aspect since after the meeting and with the exception of Mathias and Alexia spoken for - and with Sandy away - the ritualist needed to tally who was still available or even interested. She reminded herself she had to do this quickly, the evening was waning and tomorrow would give little time to collect the information and report it back.

After gentle criticism of her new uniform by Cherry, she had politely excused herself from her teammates with Alexia following her. They had circled around idly by, taking note of the residents in quiet conversation between them; there was Maghrl, who was already helpful within the medical team, although he was part of the defense as well - a versatility that was easily adjusted. Rmwtyliin, or rather paper-Rmwtyliin, was accounted for as well, having previously guided the young woman through a ritual shortly before the explosion; she was busy with a new Resident, although the young woman seemed extremely shy. Peering around as Alexia made silent notes and observations, Anais wondered if Sterling was still interested to be part of the medical team, another name to put forward for consideration for administrative duties - although that seem more apt to crossfield than just one area. The Baron came to mind as well as the raptors, although she had spotted either.

She did however, spot Mathias, the newest staff appointed to the magical team; his work was closely related with Alexia in the magic field. he had little time to speak with the man, although she found him a pleasant guy with a gentle nature, if a tad reserved. Just as well, she reminded herself, most were in any new situation among strangers. Branding themselves as Chosen was one thing, coming to common ground was the hard part - they'll get to Unity if they got latter down first. The ritualist did wonder how he managed the deserts (or as Devine called it, the Shithole) but Anais hadn't pressed for details; perhaps another time, when obligations didn't take priority. Calani was equally a mystery, but in a different manner she couldn't quite put her finger on and whom she had yet to speak to beyond the barest introductions prior to the actual meeting. That and Devine seemed rather protective of her despite his irreverence toward (seemingly) everything. Giovenith was also another she had to talk to, as well as Kale; the list was growing, although seemingly confirmed, it was on her to verify.

"Mathias," Anais had injected with a polite nod his way, Calani, Amanda and their newest addition, Cecile, "Is part of Administration team as mentioned earlier. Although as I understand it, his qualifications go beyond the spellcasters' supplies. Apologies for the interruption, my name is Anais, the Residents' Healer among others."

She was personally uncomfortable with the formal title of Chief Medical Officer, it sounded clinical and had a detachment she was already painfully aware of in herself and involvement with others. Although she understood the need for structure, formality could certainly be softened when not called to task. The chitin, bones and beads that adorned her headpiece swayed gently as she introduced Alexia, the woman's esoteric tatoo covering the half of her scalp, "My fellow Guildmate, Alexia, another Healer."