Personification Life, the Universe, & Everything [IC]

[Northwest Slobovia]

Island Holocomplex

"The divines of the Greeks seem much more... violent than ours. We have none for such things as earthquakes and storms. Why would you want embodiment of ill things ruling you?"

Both Amanda and Sandy started to answer, realized that, and stopped, looking at each other to try to decide who should talk. Incidentally, that let Sterling finish what he had to say.

"We ponies have... four divinities now I think. [...] Well, I suppose a fifth. There's also Discord, our own personification of Chaos. He seems to be... better of late. He stopped trying to take over reality at least..."

"Five deities." Sandy nodded slowly, his crinkled brow suggesting he was mulling over what Sterling said. "The sun and moon, love, magic, and discord are all things that human gods have personified, but your pantheon is otherwise unlike any of ours. Er, that I know of. Sun and moon both female? That's-- all of ours with both have had one male and one female... though which is which varied with time and place."

There was silence for a second before Sandy addressed Sterling's original comment. "Ummm, the Olympians never claimed rulership over mortals. Or, I should say, we have no surviving evidence that they did. They sometimes meddled in human affairs, but their worship was purely transactional: mortals who wanted something from them, or who wanted to thank them for something, dedicated things to them... er... left them as votive offerings in their temples."

Amanda broke in, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, begining to tire of all the standing. "My god, my entire pantheon, claimed to rule the Earth. It's strange to think of them that way, since God claimed to be unique, and so did his children. God is a Greater Being, and Jesus and Mohammed are gods. They--" She caught Sandy's unhappy glance, and she corrected herself, her voice showing traces of both irritation and uncertainly. "Their worshippers claimed each was the only god. It's very strange for me to think of them as a pantheon, since that contradicts everything I was taught as a child."

She paused long enough to signal a subject change. "And you, Sterling? Do you worship the princess goddesses?"

[Giovenith]

Players

The player often known as Gio, not to be confused with her own character, still wasn't on board with treating this situation so casually but saw little choice other than to go along with everyone else to the bar. A nice cold Sprite might help calm her down.

"You could probably hop over the counter and find mini freezers back there," she suggested in response to Tilt. "But I don't know, since the cultists work here, it might have portals and weird stuff, be really careful."

She briefly wondered what it would be like to run into one of said cultists, specifically how much danger they could possibly be in if they did. If the cultist didn't know their real identites, they might just assume they were a group of strangers and attempt to evict them from the Residents' part of the island into unknown territory. If they somehow did glean what they were, that could lead to all kinds of heavy questions about power and how it related to their OP gods. She just hoped they wouldn't find out.

"So..." she ventured with a long breath, climbing onto a tiki bar seat and spinning herself side to side thoughtfully. "If this is like, all real and all, do other people like... also have dimensions where their ideas are real, and stuff Does every fantasy have its own existence, or do they like, need to have a certain magnitude or something"
--

Holiday Whimsy

With plenty of food, water, and warm blankets to snuggle in, Giovenith and Willow felt safe leaving Kerouac on his own for a while so that they could go out in search of holiday cheer. They agreed that it was getting much too gloomy here at the cabin and that they should put in the extra effort to make the day special, which Giovenith got to right away by fishing out her most important holiday gear: SWEATERS! There was one she had recently made and was particularly fond of, a soft yellow thing with dragons embroidered with tinsel thread. She held it against herself in the mirror and fawned over how adorable she would soon look, but soon caught a new thought as she spotted Willow digging through his own luggage in the reflection.

"You know, I've never seen you wear anything but all black," she said, spinning around on her heel. "Don't you ever, you know, want to mix things up a little"

The pony slowly turned to look at her with a critically raised eye. Giovenith raised her hands defensively.

"I'm not saying you should wear rainbows or something!" she insisted, waving her hands reassuringly. "You can wear whatever you want! Just like, I'm sure you'd like nice in other stuff too."

"That's nice of you to say," Willow leaned against the dresser with a smile and crossed his front legs. "But a bit funny coming from a girl who's worn the same dress for six years now."

Giovenith looked down at her iconic pink sweater-dress, cringing slightly. Actually, it had been much longer than that; it had been her main outfit of choice since basically birth. Her brothers and sisters all had or had once had similar outfits, enchanted things from their mother to help track their movements and signal their status to other magical and divine beings. It was family tradition, then, that once the godlings started primarily taking care of themselves they'd start wearing normal clothes. All of her older siblings had made the transition, only Giovenith and her two younger sisters still wore them, and she was pretty sure the older of those two was just waiting to see when Giovenith would do it. Giovenith, for her part, was more than enough of an adult to have stopped wearing it but it was hard to let go.

Willow, of course, already knew all of this and recognized the thoughts flashing across her face. He considered and smiled. "You can wear whatever you like too, Geo-puzzle. But 'mixing it up a bit' wouldn't mean you're any less connected to your family."

"I know," she sighed, stroking the soft wool of her holiday sweater. "I just don't like change. Or growing up."

"You say that," Willow tiled his head and smiled, pushing himself off the dresser and into the air, placing a hoof down on the godling's head to turn her back to the mirror then landing beside her. "But I think you've changed and grown up a lot since we first met. You're older now than I was when I first came to Earth, that's pretty hard for me to wrap my mind around even now. I'm proud of you though, and I like the person you're becoming."

Giovenith sniffed a bit and gently placed a hand on his head with a smile. "Thank you, Willow. That's very sweet. It's just, things feel like they're going so fast sometimes..."

"Does this have anything to do with that football helmet you were wearing before" He blinked.

She cringed again. After wearing the helmet for a good few hours her hair had finally stopped growing, but Giovenith still wasn't sure what had caused it or if it would happen again. She'd tested herself for spells and curses of all sorts but could find no explanation, and thought it best to brush it under the rug for now.

"Sorta," she hummed dismissively. "But hey, this is about fashion and all, not life lessons! Come on, I think I've got something that's new but will still suit your tastes."

Willow was loathe to let someone play dress up with him after the last incident with Sallow, but he let Giovenith have her way and found he didn't entirely regret it. A few snips and sews, and she had crafted him a new sweater, though of a very different breed than his usual garb: rather than the stiff formality of a turtleneck, it was more the casual, slightly baggy style, with a normal collar and all. The sleeves, back, and collar were all a dark grey, and the front had a reserved but nice blue plaid overlaid on the grey. It was comfortable and maintained a nice temperature, protecting him from chills without becoming too hot itself.

"You should wear blue more," Giovenith said, swiping some dandruff off his sleeve. "It brings out your eyes."

"Mm," he adjusted one of his cuffs, appreciating the softness. "I'll consider it, if you consider letting your impeccable fashion sense dress yourself every now and then."

"It's a deal," she smiled.

"Good. I'm sure Marcus will appreciate the occasional extra mindblow."

She huffed indignantly and gave him a shove, which he took with a grin. Soon they were ready and about (blissfully unaware of the gaggle of existential paradoxes stalking the island along with them), enjoying the sentimental air of the season and discussing the sort of gifts they would give to those close to them.

"It's just hard because Marcus is so much smarter than me," Giovenith mused, waving a stick she found about.

"Oh don't talk like that."

"It's true!" She cut through the air with the stick, seeing how loud she could make the thwap sound. "All the technology I can find is so primitive for him, he could make better himself."

"You could give that boy a stale bagle you found under the couch and he'd be over the moon," Willow sniffed.

"I know he loves me enough to not care," she countered, blushing a bit. "But I want it to be something that will make him happy on its own, not just because it's from me. Oh, do you think he'd like models, like of planes and stuff"

"You'll have to find out on your own." He blew bangs from his face.

"You're no help," she grumbled, stabbing her stick in the sand with a sigh. Taking a moment to drink in the scenery around her, she spotted several figures along the beach but focused only on one thing: a tiny ball of fluffy, bouncy energy. She lit up and ran over, a surprised Willow quickly following. "MB!" The godling dropped to her knees and scooped her little bunny buddy close to her face. "Oh, I've missed you!"

Willow blinked at his roommate's fawning over the magical rabbit before greeting Luce and Calani with just an awkward smile before gently yanking at Giovenith, signalling for them to move on. She ignored him, too enthralled in asking the bunny all about where he had been and how he was doing.

[Holy Lykos]

Island Holocomplex


"The Sun and Moon are also sisters, but for the last thousand years or so, Luna was corrupted into someone known as Nightmare Moon and imprisoned in the moon to prevent her seizing control. Twilight helped restore her a few years ago now. It turned out better for Discord too, friendship with some ponies convinced him the value of how we have it right now instead of his previous desire of chaotic reality bending to his whims." Sterling shrugged, trying to understand such a transactional relationship with divinity. To him, divinity was something both beyond the normal, who protect or try to dominate. There wasn't much in between.

Though, the question threw him off. He stared at them for a few moments, utter incomprehension on his face. "I mean... They are good rulers. And I am their subject, and they have never done me wrong. The only one I do not trust is Discord, because he is the reason I was put here, before he was brought to join the others." Sterling let out a snort, and thought for a moment.

"I don't know much about human conception of worship, we ponies seem to have a different one. We don't as much chose to follow. They are our Princesses and Divines. Even if a pony dislikes the way they run things or any one personally, that doesn't change their nature as our goddesses. I follow them myself. Not quite as fanatically as Willow does, no, but I still believe they know best and trust their judgement and abilities. They are not infallible, nor have existed for as long as we ponies have as species. But I trust them. They've helped steer us ponies to a prosperous and peaceful world."

His ears twitched, one after another. "So yeah, I guess I worship them. Just not how humans worship their gods. Have you ever met your own? Your wording implied there's more than one set. And on another point, why did you want to visit the library? I'm assuming they don't accept thousands of years late book returns, yes?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

Island Holocomplex

"They are not infallible, nor have existed for as long as we ponies have as species. But I trust them. They've helped steer us ponies to a prosperous and peaceful world. [...] Have you ever met your own? Your wording implied there's more than one set. And on another point, why did you want to visit the library? I'm assuming they don't accept thousands of years late book returns, yes?"

Sterling held the Belas rapt; Amanda didn't seem to breathe while he talked. But through their focus, both had a sense of emotional detachment, weighing, as each judged what Sterling said. Both of their gazes were fixed on Sterling, but Sandy's eyes seemed to see through him, imagining the world Sterling was building; Amanda studied his equine features, seeking tells she couldn't decipher, but which may be revealing regardless.

"If what you're saying is true--" It would be hard to miss the caution in Amanda's voice, and the emphasis in her hand gestures as she spoke. He posture was open and relaxed, but she'd unselfconsciously crossed her arms as Sterling talked, and she motioned with her right hand, her left arm still resting in the crook of her elbow. "Your gods seem simply better than nearly all of ours, and yours have the distinct advantage of being present as well."

The focus came back to Sandy's eyes as his wife spoke, and now he was animated, making sweeping gestures that took in the whole scene around them. "If this conversation had been seen by anybody from its proper time, human events would have played out entirely differently! None of the Olympians had ever been seen -- seen by reliable witnesses, that is -- in recorded history... as, um, clearly distinguished from legend. Even the physical presence of a single Muse, as minor a goddess as she was, would have brought a new reverence to her servants here, and likely the entire Hellenic cosmos. Other than her cult -- and the other gods' cults worldwide -- nobody even regularly felt their divine gaze, much less saw them."

An afterthought: "And Nick seems to have... have done something with Bastet, the lioness-goddess of the Egyptian pantheon, the local religion. Nobody had seen her for even longer, but her pantheon seems very real as well. I suppose many of the others are too."

There was a long silence while Sandy ruminated. "The Olympians... for the most part... went silent within a few centuries of what you see here. The Muses' two most important shrines, here and at Helikon, would be destroyed by then. Only a few of them were worshipped after that, displaced by the Christians. Um, the followers of Jesus, who was called 'Christ', after the Greek term for..." He visibly groped for words, his hands seeking common words for jargon in an ancient language. "A prophet of God. Amanda's religion, though in a much earlier form." A wry smile crept to his face. "I suppose people used to active, present gods have little use for people to relay what the gods have to say."

Good humor spread through Sandy, returning to his previous activity. He playfully pointed at Sterling. "But you're not far wrong. The Library of Alexandria never loaned books. Even admission was restricted to a select few... well, in these days, though once it was the center of learning for much, if not all, of the world.

"I went to find a book of magic, and rescue it from the fire that would destroy much of this library the morning after this conversation. We -- Nick, Baron Primordial, and I -- got it, along with several hundred other volumes." He sighed, a bit somber befor picking up speed and cheer again. "We saved a tiny fraction of what burned, but we saved some of the greatest treasures of antiquity. Sixty volumes of magic theory, as it was then understood, hundreds of funny plays, and I don't even know what all. Some of that was already centuries old, utterly priceless. I brought a little of it here to study. Want to see?" Sandy's eyes gleamed by the end; one could probably read by the light in them. (This being PL, perhaps literally.)

[Monfrox]

It was kind of amazing at how the cultists had stored their prized meats. Fresh, living, and still plenty angry, living deep down in a cavernous expanse. Well, after a long while, the two redheads had climbed back up to the kitchen and hefted a huge hunk of meat onto the counter. Hopefully they didn't mind their meat spiced with tungsten and incendiary material. It was decided to put most things in the oven to cook before that, and luckily the duo had returned just in time to retrieve the ham and casseroles before they were over-cooked. The lemon pepper fish needed a bit of finishing but that was easy. The rest was all ready to be set out. It was decided that the one-eyed wonder would tend to the roast beast while the other set the table. With as much as there was, between rolls, green bean and corn casseroles, honey ham, lemon pepper fish, salad, mashed potatoes and gravy, and bread and butter, there was enough of a variety that no one should be going home hungry.

The one who's redhead was more bright and blazing than her counterpart's adjusted her roughed up duster that she probably wouldn't take off even for a parent-teacher conference and rolled up her sleeves before carrying out the food to the pavilion. It wouldn't be long before the smell of fresh cooked food would fill the air as she brought each dish out one by one to the large table, with seats put to accommodate the smallest and largest Residents.

[Holy Lykos]

PLayer
Lykos frowned at Gio's musings. "I, personally, have no idea. I certainly would hope for their to be a complexity threshold for the creation of new universes like that. There would be far to many nightmarish dimensions that way. Moreso than most universes can already be considered, at least." They replied, glancing over the others gathered.

"I'm all for heading for the tiki bar. Hopefully its well stocked."

---

Island Holocomplex

Sterling let out a snort as he tried to read the humans's expression. Not a simple enough task, sometimes. "I'm unsure if 'better' is the right word. Present certainly, and powerful, but they are ponies as much as I am. Save Discord. He's a draconequus. A chimera. But what they certainly do have alongside their power is traits of every pony race, and what seems to be immortality. It is difficult to not follow such beings, like I said a bit ago." He wasn't sure if he'd phrased everything right, and if they had misunderstood his meanings. But that was passed. "Willow might be a better source. I know the history, but he has the truest loyalty of a pony I've ever met, despite his cynical nature."

"I also couldn't understand why a divine would wish to be apart from their people. It seems callous and uncaring to me. We ponies may just have a different psychology, but lacking a present, benevolent deity just seems wrong. Even before the redemption of Luna we always at least had one. While we likely would keep going on without them, it wouldn't be as easy. Who would keep the sun and moon moving, for one?"

Though, the mention of magic and books perked up the Librarian pony. He trotted up closer to Sandy and sat himself down. Sterling's eyes darted around the library simulacrum, before settling on Sandy again. "Sounds like the fire started early then, given the state you are in. Any luck retrieving what you had specifically wanted? Or were you window shopping more than having a specific tome in mind?" His eyes sparkled with interest, watching the human scholar.

"I would be interested in comparing human magical theory to pony magical theory. Magic does not seem native to your forms at is is for us-" Sterling's horn sparked, magic the shade of his eyes leaping and jumping like electricity in the air. "It is good you managed to save anything though. Fires can be devastating for libraries and knowledge. We ensure our books and scrolls in Equestria with fireproof magic, though I have yet to learn such spells. Nearly every library is required to use magical protection to prevent loss of knowledge, along with providing free access to the public good."

[Fvaarniimar]

PLayer: Enter a Cat, sort of

The next door to appear was...practical. Inch-thick metal painted a color reliably found in cans of tuna on the outside and almondy beige on the interior, it bore a peephole and a shiny brass knocker. A wreath of scrounged fir, willow, and oleaster hung from the latter (suspended by a ponytail holder, to be exact.)

“Have they turned up the heat?” The surprised alto voice continued in a whisper, “I’d better take my coat still, I know it's cold -”

The door creaked open. For a moment, the reason Fvaar was headed out on Christmas was apparent - on the further of two conjoined recliners snored an older woman.

“What on -” Glancing back, she debated for a moment. Should she wake her mother, who loved beaches? (Nope. She'd freak out.) Is it safe? Her hand clutched the knob. Two images came to mind - a door in a garden wall. You've already gone through. A doorway lit like that of her room - a picture that had proved so convincing one night that she'd turned around to face the real one, to check. Illogical though it was, it represented a missed opportunity - turning away due to anxiety.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind - but that was simply a poem, worn into Fvaar's mind by far too many fanfictions, and the putative safety of “home” was stagnant, crushing - She'd been waiting her whole life for such an event as this! Her face lit up. Closing the door quietly, she ran forward with a grin.

Fvaar, as it happened, had dressed with absolutely no regard for fashion, with heavily worn floral boots (which sunk into the sand) poking out from ikat-patterned sweatpants (at least both were bluish.) A fuzzy black headband had been shoved over rumpled hair . As she unzipped a long near-black coat, a red shirt came into view. “Here's hoping this isn't Star Trek,” she muttered as she stuffed two mismatched gloves in a pocket. Setting the coat under a tree, she inadvertently turned - and she stared. Apparently she'd walked the wrong way.

“There is a lizard woman fighting a…” Frankly, if anything he looked like Etzic. Pinch. “Ouch!” And in front…I haven't plosted. It's been too much effort...and after last year, well.

But they're my friends…But I suck at this…Why do I recognize them, anyway? Surely it isn't - What if something needs fixing… Tentatively, she voiced a possibility. “Again?” What if - last time - was real? “That would be so cool,” and a bit awkward.

For a moment the young woman turned back - facing her path. As she spun, she had a clear line of sight to a vivid green splash - is that fabric? A person? With a start, she recognized it. Rmwtyliin's gown?! And above it - is that an animal? Wait, it's ornamented - no way. That's her hair, in “traditional Fvaarniimarn” style!

“What the - how the - holmium, hassium, darmstadtium, meitnerium, fleabane, flyorovium, feldspar…” Continuing to mutter, she stood. Maybe they have answers - even if not, maybe I'm needed?

Anxiety set aside for the moment, the tallish girl woman strode back, passing where she'd stepped in after a few steps. As she drew closer, her features became apparent - dishwater blonde hair, a strong nose, large deep blue glasses, fair slightly-tanned skin. A bell around her neck jangled, although a luridly autumnal scarf muffled it.

“A complexity threshold would make sense - along possibly with the proviso that, well, writers can't know it becomes real, because that would change...how we approached it, I s'pose. Hi, Squir - NA. I'll go with that? And hello, everyone!" Um. Must not just say hi again - and must remember. Theytheytheytheythey. NA is they...

So. "It's - interesting seeing you all. In person. In a good way! This is wonderful - but just too weird. Possibly seeing you again - I mean, I hadn't thought the, ah, previous Player event was...real, but - most of you look familiar…" I picture Gio in considerably more pastels than this, but recognized her immediately... "And unless at least one of us is hallucin - Etzic and Neste really aren't moving much, are they? - ating, the previous event obviously." A pause, for grammar parsing. "Would not have been impossible... This is insane!" Fvaar grinned.

"I'm really hoping someone has some answers...although I'm all for the tiki bar."

--

Near Huts
After ceasing to be a bowl - a rather handsome bowl, too, he thought - Nick had spent much of the day wrapping attractive-if-not-terribly-useful dragon fire-lizard scales and then a while trying to follow a somewhat muddled, broken trail of feline scent. He'd guessed it probably was either Sentia or some variety of jungle cat. His elvish double (who he'd met shortly after the Fall Festival) hadn't wanted to get anywhere near the island: Spencer of the embarrassing romance novels had outright bristled and avoided the beach, had stammered. What with Torii's fate -

Nick didn't want to think about any of it, any of the implications. That's very tiny. Granted, the impression could be any number of things, but he'd assume that, yes, it was a paw print.

Not a leopard, not Sentia...Sniff. Sniff. IS THAT FISH?! HAM...roasting something -

Nick dashed towards dinner. He could continue the wild goose chase later.

--
Forest, or the trees
Meanwhile, Rmwtyliin focused. There is no time!
Red poop. She'd hoped to make a varnish of sorts - it would at least finish the surface of her gifts.

Said gifts were perhaps not the most richly ornamented or personalized, but they did represent sincere effort on the girl's part. As fall was ending, she'd collected some wide fallen branches and stones for smoothing and carved 53 thimbles - one project at which she'd had sufficient practice to work rather quickly, even given the cumbersome tip-guards intrinsic to carving tools in Fvaarniimar. Thimbles were always handy, and the soft sapwoods didn't damage tough, oily wooden needles should they slip. The small bronze whittling-edge, far back on a shelf, had come as a pleasant surprise... Thimbles were useful things. Inside these are silky smooth, and the outsides will not give anyone splinters. That must suffice. She sighed, standing.

Still - I wish I'd found time to get a paint, or wax - or Ijj. I really wish Ijj and I could have done this together... I would have smoothed the insides, like I did, and rounded the outsides... The teenager sniffled. I would have needed to leave more wood...as after that, Ijj would have had fun carving clever designs into each and every thimble. We would have been a team - another sniffle. As always.

[Tiltjuice]

Of the Plotters, only one broke ranks to investigate the feast. It wasn't, as might have been expected, the most gluttonous one; that one was fuzzing quite fervently, squealing in surprise and poking at some of Giovenith's bangs.

All is well! Long sleep is long and good. Not much happens, only storing up to come out and mix with other Residents. And Big Plan. The mischievous rabbit looked conspiratorially straight at Calani. Trickster he was indeed - but poker faced, not at all.

Luce cleared his throat politely and did his best to draw Willow off from Giovenith. "Perhaps we could leave them to it and join the others for food? I believe I see Nick heading that way as well."

Calani looked askance at this, as if uncomfortable, but nodded, holding out a hand to the beatPony.

---

"Multiverse theory isn't my strong suit. About as close as I can get is quantum computing - but that's most likely boring. Though I would have to wonder how Lorenz's work might conceivably affect this complexity threshold."

Tilt regarded the whole group for a moment. "Why can't the tiki bar itself have the answers? In vino veritas....and if not, we'll just have to make our own." He gave Gio a slight nod and moved up to the bar, followed by Swith, Cer and Agy. Testing its height with his outstretched arms for a moment, palms down on the top, he pushed down and rolled awkwardly over it, disappearing on the other side.

"Drink order! Place your drink orders!" said an invisible Penguin Fairy.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Island Holocomplex

"I also couldn't understand why a divine would wish to be apart from their people. It seems callous and uncaring to me. [...] While we likely would keep going on without them, it wouldn't be as easy. Who would keep the sun and moon moving, for one?"

Amanda's expression had grown pinched as Sterling described his gods, but changed to shock and bafflement as he finished. She sputtered to a start. "K-Keep them moving?? They're-- They obey the same laws as everything else in the universe! They move as the laws of physics say they do. Men have been to the moon. It's a little planet... At least in our universe it is." She shook her head: the notion of a universe as primitives saw it was too weird; even weirder than pony-people. If Sandy could be a huge magic flying pony, why not little magic flying pony-people, too?

She returned to what the pony-person historian had said earlier, resignation in her voice. "'Callous and uncaring' does seem to describe Earth's gods. It's easier to accept them never having existed than to believe they've lost interest, or whatever it is they've done."

"Sounds like the fire started early then, given the state you are in. Any luck retrieving what you had specifically wanted? Or were you window shopping more than having a specific tome in mind?" ... "I would be interested in comparing human magical theory to pony magical theory. Magic does not seem native to your forms at is is for us-"

"Oh, no!" Amanda cut off whatever Sandy was about to say, shaking her head and taking a step. "If you gentlemen are going to talk shop, I'm afraid I'm going to have to find other company. I've heard too many abstruse discussions of magical minutia to want to suffer through another." She stood on tip-toe and gently pulled Sandy's arm down, lowering his head to where she could give him a peck on the cheek; she whispered to him, too. "We'll finish watching the Muses later. I have a lot to think about already."

She turned back to Sterling, smiling but clearly wanting out of the conversation. "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you two to your disputations of how many genies can dance on the head of a pin." She left the holodeck, disappearing as she rounded the corner outside.

Sandy's excited expression was unchanged: the light in his eyes still blazed despite Amanda's exit. He chuckled as he returned to full height. "Don't mind her. She has heard rather too much of how magic works, and it means nothing to her. Like most humans from our world, she has neither the Sight nor the Art. In my day, we guessed that maybe one person in ten million has some kind of supernatural ability, and only some of them can work magic. But here" -- he meant the Library -- "over a hundred people studied magic. There weren't um... right, a billion people! alive then."

He paused, mentally playing back Sterling's questions. "Oh, yes! Yes! The book I sought proved to be the same sixty-volume work we saved. It was considered the sum total of magical understanding in its day, but... Well, there have been two major revolutions in magical thought since. So, it's obsolete, but even so, it's a far more complete understanding than I have."

He paused, frowning and thinking, before picking up exuberantly again. "Yes, we should compare notes! Anais, Alexia, and I managed to get their world's magic and mine on something like a common understanding. That was a big help to their guild and to me. I-- I should try to synthesize the Discussion of Magic, the sixty volumes, with the fragments I have of the Iberian Golden Age and the Kite Book and other works of the Victorian period. Those were the other two revolutions I mentioned. Comparing all that to your magic could be very fruitful!"

He ended the holodeck's simulation, and kept talking as he and Sterling made their way to the Belas' cottage. "I have only the first two volumes of the Discussion with me. I thought that would be enough to study while we're here. We found other magic besides: a pair of medical spells I've barely glanced at, a ritual unlike any other in my world -- apparently entirely lost -- The Baron found a book he thought had something to do with his... religion. I think he suspects it contains magic as well, but I haven't even glanced at that. I have that, and everything else he got out."

"Oh! To tie off a point you raised: the Mouseion had elaborate magical protections, including a powerful fire-suppression spell. But... something happened, something-- well, we didn't find out how, but somehow a creature of flame got in, and set the collection on fire. The Mouseion's spells were unable to contain a fire that big, especially once the buildings started to collapse and fresh air made the fire flare up."

Sandy let Sterling in, and showed him one of the bins Primordial found: about a foot and a half long, perhaps six inches tall and ten wide. It contained a two layers of scrolls lying cross-wise; each was eight or nine inches high and an inch or so thick rolled up. Sandy showed one to Sterling: it had a tag on a ribbon that kept it rolled, and both the label and the scroll were in Greek, so old there were no spaces between words, just a continuous stream of tiny letters. "You have a Babelfish, yes? I could read the text to you, since I don't suppose you read Greek." Sandy grinned: there were many unlikely coincidences in the omniverse, but that one would take the cake.

[OOC: I'll pick up with Amanda a bit later.]

[Giovenith]

Players

"I don't know how it happened either," Gio the player reassured Fvaar. "I'd like some answers, but I don't think we can expect any, so we might as well just soak in what we can and ponder it when we get home. Investigate a little, you know?"

She took the liberty of following Tilt's lead and crouching down to take a look around. If this was a dream, this would generally be the point where it either switched gears or she woke up given it would take too much lucid thinking to come up with fine details like bar equipment. But no, all the cold dusty metal and plastic stood out as real as any she had ever seen, and she slowly ran her fingertips along a layer of sand and rubbed it between them to drive the point home.

"Whelp," she popped back up, careful to not slam her head against the edge of the counter as she would have been likely to do. "I'm assuming you've never put enough thought into this place to know the minute details of a the mixing equipment, right Swith? Maybe this place makes logical conclusions or something."

After a brief search for some cups, she precariously held them all in her arm and set them down one by one in front of her companions, moving a bit slowly so as to make things neat.

--

"A plan? Great!" Giovenith (the character) lifted MB high. "Let's get to it!"

Willow considered protesting but thought better. He wasn't one to waste food, and it occurred to him that Nick might have some input on taking care of Kerouac. He reluctantly backed away from Giovenith, exchanged looks with his neighbors, and set off.

"Either of you wouldn't be interested in giving a kitten a good home, would you?" he asked once they reached the dinner, grabbing a plate. "He's a boy, tiny thing, tabby I think. Very friendly and playful. I found him in the trash back in Bielefeld, asked around but pretty much confirmed he's a stray and couldn't find his mom. He's all clean now and can eat solids."

[Fvaarniimar]

Now Give Us Some Figgy Pudding, already

Sniff. The food scents were strong, of course, but underneath - sniffiffiff. Hopping under the table, the cat started prowling to the strongest trace of cat-scent - and paused, ears pricked.

"- za boy, tiny thing, tabby I think. Very friendly and playful. I found him in the trash back in Bielefeld, asked around but pretty much confirmed he's a stray and couldn't find his mom. He's all clean now and can eat solids."

Giving Willow's ankle a friendly lick, Nick hopped up onto a nice, tall seat. "The trash?! That's just inhumane!!". Seething, he snatched a piece of honey ham, plated it...and began to shred it until it resembled pulled pork.

Meanwhile, Rmwtyliin arrived, face flushed, and set a cotton bag of wooden thimbles under the tree. It wasn't wrapped - the thimbles varied somewhat in size. Letting everyone pick their own would make the most sense.

PLayers at drinking
Fvaar's eyes widened. Did Tilt -? Hearing his voice, she chuckled nervously. Ah - yeah, he's just short.

She dug in her purse - not for out-of-place currency but rather for lactase tablets. Finding the bottle, she relaxed slightly. "I'd like a virgin piña colada, please -" This is Tilt. "I know I could get away with drinking an alcoholic one, but I honestly don't like the alcohol taste - remember, I tried some?"

Of course it was an acquired taste, but Fvaar had long before concluded that she did not want to acquire it. Smiling slightly at the truly lovely day, she tugged off her boots.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Amanda left the holocomplex with a head full of things to think about. She didn't know which was more remarkable: the possibility that she could talk to Jesus -- and now that she started to think of it, perhaps find out why He and God abandoned all their worshippers -- or the claim of a world full of spellcasters ruled by benign gods.

The beach seemed like a good place for a long walk, either to focus or clear her head. Unusually, she wasn't sure which she wanted more. But as she turned around the corner of the holocomplex to head to the surf, she caught sight of a crowd at the pavillion and smelled food. Christmas dinner! It had to be! She set off for dinner at a fast pace.

* * *

As she arrived, Amanda looked the scene over. One couple seemed to be setting the last of the dishes out, so Amanda headed over to them. "You two prepared all of this? Thank you, thank you very kindly! I don't think we've met; I'm Amanda Bela."

[Monfrox]

"Amanda Bela?" The one-eyed woman asked, a bit confused.

Her hair was crimson red, a sharp contrast the flaming red of the other next to her. She had a black eyepatch over her right eye and was wearing a grey turtleneck sweater with dark grey pants. The faintest edges of a blade scar poked out from the corners of the eye patch, which led one to assume that a complete X over it lie underneath. Her sweater had a few flecks of blood that had darkened in the time it was exposed to the outside air.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" The other chimed in. "I'm Mon, by the way."

Mon was still wearing her trademark duster, but she looked older. Definitely aged in the time she had been away. She also, had some dirt and stains on her coat but most of them looked too old and worn into the fabric to really come out. It took a better half of the day just to make it stop giving off radiation, even if it was a low amount.

"And this is-"
"Nobody important." The other woman said hurriedly, earning a slight look from Mon. "Come on, dinner is served! I'll get the milk. Or would you care for wine?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" The other chimed in. "I'm Mon, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, Mon. And I'd hope so: Sandy and I have lived in the Building for more than three years." Amanda wasn't sure what to make of the couple(? sisters?). They must be Residents, but she'd never seen them before, nor even heard of anybody with their description. Making dinner seemed to rule out very new Residents, because those were usually confused and timid, not searching the Island for kitchens to feed strangers.

Nor did their appearance or dress ring any bells. They seemed to be from a rough area or had had rough lives, but neither sounded familiar.

"And this is-"
"Nobody important." The other woman said hurriedly, earning a slight look from Mon. "Come on, dinner is served! I'll get the milk. Or would you care for wine?"

That earned a raised eyebrow. How rude! Amanda decided to make a joke out of it. "Glad to meet you too, Nobody! Are you perhaps related to another famous Nobody, Captain Nemo of the Nautilus?"

She paused for a moment to consider the other matter: wine, of course, with Christmas dinner, but rarely was that the only drink at the table. "Wine, please. You shouldn't have to do all the work for this meal. We can provide drinks in great variety and abundance, if you'd like. You need only ask."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Two Long-winded Historians Walk into a Hut...

“Congratulations on collecting your objective book then, Sandy.” Sterling spoke, nodding goodbye to Amanda as she took her leave of them. The pony was rather bewildered why she was so startled that physical laws might not be constant between disparate universes, given the seasons and stellar bodies were actually controlled by magic where he was from.

“I’d imagine it was difficult to find the right book. I have no idea if those people had any concrete organization system. Old libraries in Equestria can be a pain to search through, in my experience.” The unicorn initially tried to read the scrolls set out by Sandy, but rapidly realized he both couldn’t understand a lick of it, but that it was before even the advent of spaces and formatting for texts. Likely before any sort of widespread literacy. The pony sat himself down nearby the magician, his head buzzing with thoughts.

“No… I do not read Greek. I would appreciate you reading some, yes. It seems to me like your world is much… older than my own, sometimes. We either know little of our own history or it has been a short one, as even early equestrian texts aren’t that ancient compared to modern books.”

“Oh, ummm….” Sandy paused, brow furrowed, trying to think of how to summarize the key dates that would help Sterling make sense of human history. Slowly, he brightened, a trace of a grin on his face: human history 101 could be fun. “Try this for some benchmarks of our history. Our species is-- we’ve been around for about a quarter million years or so. I think; that’s not my speciality. We’ve been farming and living in cities for about 10,000, and writing things down for maybe 8,000.

“Meritari is from an early civilization, perhaps three to four thousand years before my time, depending on exactly when she lived. The Greeks, the people I study, were a powerful culture from… call it 2,700 years ago to about 2,100; the Library of Alexandria was one of their last and greatest cultural achievements. Their culture, and most of the of the cultures around them changed abruptly with the-- Well, we want to find out the details, but somehow, Amanda’s god is born or deified about two thousand years ago.

“The start of what we call the ‘modern age’ is only four to five hundred years ago, and the nation where we live is--” he paused to do some mental arithmetic “-- 233 years old. Does, uh, that help make sense of our history?” Sandy watched for Sterling’s reaction. Saying his civilization is young could mean anything from decades to millennia old in Sandy’s mind.

Sterling had kept nodding along with the explanation, watching the human intently. When he reached the modern era, Sterling looked even more confused. “What we ponies call modern means almost the last thousand years. Since the brief conflict between Luna and Celestia that lead to the former’s banishment, at least. Pony history before that is murky, especially before the discovery and settlement of equestria.

“The best way I can divide it up would be very fuzzy, as ponies haven’t often felt the need for exact dates of eras. Classical pony civilization following the three species uniting, with pre-classical before that. Discord’s reign came after, which was broken up by the emergence of Celestia and Luna. Thousands of years after that, the modern era starts with the conflict I mentioned and has continued under Celestia for the last thousand years. Pony history is only recorded for the last few thousands accurately, up to the age of Discord. It's very possible Discord screwed up time itself and made the first colonization seem closer than it was.

“We may have a similar age as species, but we ponies have little knowledge of our origins so it would be hard to tell. Perhaps we just haven’t been looking or trying to understand pre-classical pony life enough, but they left very little markers or monuments. Life was harsh before Equestria’s settlement. And we’ve never really spread out of Equestria either, as other species have the territory, or are too dangerous to us. We often end up disputing with dragons because of their tendency to claim territories and settle where they please, for example.”

Sterling shook his head a bit, trying to get back on track most likely. “Your own seems a bit young to me, yes. But I am also used to one long, continued civilization that rarely fractures without outside pressures. Humans are much more… prone to disputes within their own species than we ponies, from what I know of your history.”

Sandy nodded once, vigorously, as Sterling finished. “Got it: a few thousand years of history, following a sudden emergence from a pre- or proto-historical era, though possibly subject to divine intervention. Interesting; that’s a more rapid transition than we made. We’ll have to compare notes at home: material and social culture, at least. It’ll be much easier when both of us have references at hand.”

[Holy Lykos]

And Conspire to Learn

Sandy blinked, trying to remember what he and Sterling had been about to discuss, then remembered the scroll in his hand. He held the tag out for Sterling to see. “The Librarians of Alexandria, and in particular Callimachus, their first head librarian, are credited with inventing the library catalog in my world. Their system was very simple, though. There were eleven subject areas in the Mouseion, medicine, history, poetry, and so on, including books on multiple subjects. That’s what this is part of.

“To help keep everything organized, all the scrolls were tagged as well. This one was written by Abantes of Kos, a city on an island of the same name. The rest of the tag is a synopsis of the scroll.” Sandy switched to Greek, the strange, ancient language rolling off his tongue like he’d been born speaking it. “A survey of the people and cities of Cyprus and nearby coasts, with comparisons illuminated, along with discussions of foods from the different places, farming techniques employed, and styles of pottery and tools contrasted. A brief summary of the histories of the cities are given. Subjects are presented peripatetically. This is volume one of four, about the northern coast of Cyprus.”

Sandy glanced up at Sterling. “That’s typical for the era: limited internal organization of works. Only rare examples have clear subject divisions, and indexes within books are all but unknown.”

Despite the switch of language, the fish in his ear let the pony continue understanding without any pause. Perhaps a millisecond’s pause, but nothing noticeable. Sterling was, as he always had been, a studious pony, and kept rapt attention on Sandy as he described the work

“That is just absolutely fascinating, honestly. I wished we ponies kept as comprehensive records back in the day. We’ve usually been more concerned with magic and following our desired paths through life than records and posterity; unless, of course, that is what someone wishes to do in their life.

“I am still unfamiliar with those places, but I seem to recall seeing a map placing Cyprus in… The Middle-Earth sea? An island?”

Sandy chuckled at the misplaced allusion. “Middle Earth sea, indeed. ‘Mediterranean’ in English, for ‘in the middle of the land’. Cyprus is a large island, once known for its copper deposits. The word ‘copper’ even owes its sound to ‘Cyprus’.”

“Oh, right, I knew I had the name wrong somewhere. Mediterranean Sea. Yes, right.” Sterling adjusted his bowtie a bit, face screwing up a bit in embarrassment. It wouldn’t do for scholars to be incorrect often, but Sterling had to admit mistakes. Back to the topic on hand though.

“I’m assuming your own people make use of more divisions in your non-fiction works, and indexes? They do make reading a dense book much easier.” Sterling looked up again, having watched the scroll for a bit as he was speaking.

“I don’t think we ponies kept to scrolls very long, but literacy wasn’t very big for us until recently. As you can tell.” He held up a leg. “We lack hands. Only unicorns usually have the dexterity for reading books and scrolls.”

Sandy nodded with a big smile and a light-hearted tone. “I’m familiar with the problem. I have some shape-shifting magic; the equine form isn’t entirely unknown to me.” He paused for a long second, studying his hands, then glancing at Sterling’s outstretched hoof before returning to more typical eye contact. “But you did learn to write that way… and work magic. Not an easy trick, so to speak.”

Sterling’s face split in a grin, the pony giving an enthusiastic nod. “Unicorns have an advantage. Ponies can use mouths or hooves to write and draw. Pegasi can use wings too. Us unicorns though-” His horn sparked, and an aura of blue surrounded his hat which lifted up and gave a little twirl. “- We have our magic.I do think with proper training unicorns could be more dexterous than mundane humans. Writing is easy for unicorns. We just learn to manipulate magic for telekinetic purposes.”

Sandy’s grin became childlike as he watched Sterling show off his telekinesis. “That’s very handy,” he added with an impish curl to his lips.

Sandy took a few seconds to remember what he’d been about to say before Sterling’s demonstration. “Right! Over the last two thousand years, we’ve gotten better at organizing books. Not only internally, but in libraries. That’s part of my problem with these.” He waved his free hand across the top of the bin and then over to the other one. “I expected to save one book. We did… much better than that; we saved over seven hundred, including parts of the Mouseion’s indexes. All that needs to be better organized so we -- all the Residents at least, and I think, all of Galli’s scholars and maybe all inhabitants -- can find books. That’s not something I know how to do.”

With the number of books finally mentioned, along with Sandy’s needs, Sterling’s eyes were wide with excitement and twinkling with eagerness. “Well, good sir Sandy, you’re quite in luck then.” Sterling hopped himself up to all fours, turning to his side so the mark on his flank was easily visible: brackets around a fleur-de-lis. “My talent happens to be organization. And I am a trained librarian. Went to school for it, y’know. I could even work on basic translations with the right aides! I do doubt most modern scholars to be fluent in ancient dialects and languages.”

Sandy was overjoyed. “Oh, fantastic! Yes, we’ll have to round up some more people to help us. Maybe we can… hire… Yes, hire some assistants from Bielefeld’s public libraries or the university.

“And you might be surprised by the number of remaining Greek speakers. The language was revived when the country fought off its conquerors about a century ago, so a modern version is spoken by about ten million people, maybe twice as many who spoke it classically, two thousand year ago.

“Demens… well, he probably brought other worshippers of the Olympians, and other worshipper-Gatejumpers may arrived as well. Minotaurs and centaurs live in the Burrows, along with cyclopes, all species associated with the Olympians. Perhaps some of them still speak the Classical dialect. Yes, yes! This project could work out very well!”

[Giovenith]

Willow welcomed Nick to the fold with a smile and pat on the head. "Hey there, I've been meaning to get to you. Yeah, Kerouac's just a little guy, but he's safe and sound with me right now. I've got to find him a home soon."

Soon? What was the rush? Even he wasn't sure.

---

The player nodded deeply with Fvaar, not feeling the need to repeat her own feelings about alcohol. She settled for her Sprite and walked some paces off to sit on the same with it, wanting to take him the reality some more.

"Have you guys ever heard the Tommy Westphall universe theory?" she asked, nudging the bubbles in her drink with the straw. "It comes from an old show called 'St. Elsewhere.' The last episode notoriously ended with seemingly the implication that the entire show had taken place inside the mind of Tommy Westphall, the main character's quiet autistic son. People noted that if this were true, than that meant that every show St. Elsewhere had shared crossovers with must also be in his head, and the shows those shows had connections with, and so on. And so, people estimated that about ninety percent of American television was all, in theory, the product of one little boy's quiet imagination.

She wet her throat with the drink. "Of course, it's not hard to poke holes in the theory, it's mostly for fun. I kind of like it though. Like... there's this wide, wide universe full of people and events we love, and when you zoom outward looking for the greater meaning of it all, 'God' turns out to be no one special in his own life. All the world, all that ever happened, will happen, or mattered, is but a daydream -- dreamed not from a glowing throne on high, but from a dusty little stoop in an old house while watching a snow globe, immediately forgotten once it's time for dinner. Maybe that's what we're experiencing right now. We're Tommy, little nobody-gods, maybe just the dream of a bigger nobody-god ourselves."

[Fvaarniimar]

Placemats and Placements

Nick nodded. “I could certainly take him in - but it would be weird, and I'd always be really disappointed that Kerouac wasn't like me.” Tucking in his head, the bigger cat started washing his chest. “A pet really does deserve someone to love him for who he is - not in spite of it. Granted, I wouldn't be worse than whoever decided he was trash. I doubt any Resident could. Maybe we can ask around? I do know who's fond of cats.” The cat winked.

---

Longest-Nights Feast

Spotting Amanda - not known well, but also not unknown - Rmwtyliin slid unobtrusively into the closest seat at her height, sighing in relief. She was not in fact late. “Madam Ahmenda Bela? I know that this is a winter solstice celebration, but I get the impression that there's more to it. You seem to understand the culture well...do you know what's being celebrated?” Plating some aromatic fish, she pushed out her lips - a shrug, although Amanda probably wasn't aware of that.

---

...and all the men and women merely PLayers

Listening with a small smile, Fvaar had ended up following her...friend. Actual, real-life friend! She grinned, sitting nearby. “I think I like it, too. I've pondered a similar theory - as an exercise, you understand.” In the tub, in fact, but sharing that could be awkward; nevertheless her mind wandered to it. Would they be here long enough to need showers? “Or for worldbuilding, really. It’s more of a cycle, though - the ‘biggest’ gods get controlled by the ‘littlest’…” Rather like how PL might be working if they the writers/handlers lived in the same Omniverse, which had in fact been the inspiration...which might possibly be the case. Which was, ah, unnerving. “Then again, they do seem to be moving fine even with us...occupied. Perhaps we're just chroniclers?” She munched a pastry.

On second thought...Fvaar rather did hope that was the case. Controlling actual living people was an enormous responsibility, certainly...but a far more frightening possibility had come to mind, a possibility too terrifying and potentially dangerous to voice.

If all the opponents of the Devourers rely on us - fragile humans, a ragtag group - for existence, and we're at least temporarily within Devourer reach…. Please please PLEASE let their attention be on something else...

Stuffing the remainder of the treat into her mouth, the wide-eyed girl woman reached into her purse. Taking out the beginnings of a scarf, she began to worry at it - pulling, twisting, passing from hand to hand, and generally rather energetically fidgeting...

Waitamoment. “Aren't we on Galli?” Despite the pronunciation of the full name, she pronounced the nickname to rhyme with “valley”. “Sorry, I..." Sheepishly, she looked up at Gio... "Got rather distracted this month.” RL was normally a perfectly reasonable claim. But if this world
was just as real… “I mean, I think we are.”

Oh DAMN it. We're safe here...but if we live in the Omniverse...then so do our families. But a personal threat by some - one? thing? who could squish her like a bug was really quite different from a threat to family. Or friends. Or...maybe, possibly, world. (Could one really care at such an abstract level?) You hurt them, I get angry. You won't like me when I'm angry…I’ve faced down nothingness. I've written things into being - even if most of them were there, even if I'm just Fvaarnimar’s chronicler, I called the schools into being or at least back! Morlo and I did the library...

Shoving the mass of stitches back in, Fvaar started to dig through her purse and coat. Resolute-faced, she stood and addressed - the group? “We need paper! The rules have probably changed from, um, last time. But we should confirm that, instead of assuming, after al -” Fvaar froze mid-step. Her mouth closed mid-word. Her eyes widened.

Quietly, she went on. “We faced down nothingness, last time.”. Even if it's...odd remembering, fuzzy - even if part of me still isn't sure it happened. “Nothingness. A city vanishing...almost as though it was eaten! I took the OOC explanation, of development being needed. But what if it was the Devourers?” The woman shifted, self-conscious. “It...does seem rather like the descriptions…”

Fvaar leamed against the counter, glancing at the rather-human-looking “penguin.” This is insane and I really want a piña colada. Please hurry up... Snagging another pastry, she went on. “I have some receipts - here.” She set the tiny, crumpled pile (which also included an old gum wrapper, an emptied roll of quarters, and a few labels) on the floating tray. “Does anyone have a pen? I'm not expecting this to work, but… we're not here just for a vacation, most likely.”

[Monfrox]

The woman with the eye-patch came back with a few different varieties of wine and some milk for those not of age. She set out glasses and swiped a roll and popped the cork on a bottle, pouring a glass of red wine for herself and went off behind the pavillion's food preparation area. She plopped on to a chair and ate at her roll and drank her wine. Mon sighed and did nothing to stop her, instead she turned to Amanda.

"You'll have to excuse her. She hasn't been here in a long time and I practically had to drag her here kicking and screaming the whole way. But please, help yourself! Before the food gets cold!" She said, handing her the plate.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Pavillion

“Madam Ahmenda Bela? I know that this is a winter solstice celebration, but I get the impression that there's more to it. You seem to understand the culture well...do you know what's being celebrated?”

Amanda turned and smiled as the younger woman addressed her. Another person from a universe so far removed from her own as to have few points of reference... and she had to struggle without growing up with real technology. Where to start? Right! "It's more than just that. There are many holidays being celebrated, because there's people from so many different backgrounds, and because some cultures have several winter holidays close together.

"Where I'm from, most people observe two holidays close together, though neither is a solstice festival. One celebrates the birth of Jesus, a god, my god once, and the other a few days later celebrates the new year." She paused to frown. "But the first has largely devolved into commercial holiday of buying and giving gifts, with little connection to Jesus. New Year's Eve is often little more than an excuse to get drunk."

"Others, I think, do celebrate solstice. There's a man..." She looked around for the Norseman. "Well, he's here somewhere, who I think does celebrate the solstice per se."

"You'll have to excuse her. She hasn't been here in a long time and I practically had to drag her here kicking and screaming the whole way. But please, help yourself! Before the food gets cold!" She said, handing her the plate.

Amanda begged Rmwtyliin's pardon for a moment as Nobody and Mon returned. "'She hasn't been here in a long time'? So you've been Residents in the Building for years, then?"

Amanda accepted the plate with thanks. "We'll have to repay the favor of cooking this dinner with one of our own. We're in Apartment 2L; we can work out the details later." With a welcoming, friendly smile she added, "Yes, that's an invitation."

Amanda looked over feast, then took her place in an empty chair. A ham was within polite reach, and was traditional, so she cut herself a couple of slices, then asked for the people to pass the other dishes. Old warm memories resurfaced and a rosy glow came to her face: she hadn't seen so much food since before she left for college, nor so many people gathered for what could pass for Christmas dinner. She might as well enjoy it.

[Monfrox]

"We have, yes. Many memories inside those walls." Mon said, taking a plate for herself.

Strange. She expected more people for the dinner. All this food would go to waste if there weren't. She fixed Nick up a plate of the fish and set it in front of him.

"Here you go, kitty." She said to him before turning back to Mrs. Bela. "There's no need to thank us. After all, we always did this during the holidays. Well...we used to for a while. Things happen. Lots of things. Getting time off for this was a pain, but not as much as getting Miss Grouchy over there to come along." Mon thumbed to the other woman, currently sitting in a chair, watching the tide and drinking her wine.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Two scholars walk into a pavillion

Sandy and Sterling eventually left the Belas' cottage and wandered over to dinner, continuing to discuss the problems of translating and organizing 700-odd Greek volumes. Sandy was focused on Sterling's comments, head turned over his shoulder to face him. He didn't pay more attention to where they were going until he bumped into a palm tree, and even then, he excused himself before realizing what he'd hit.

Sandy ate in the same manner, distractedly ladling out small portions from whatever serving plate went by until Amanda grew annoyed and rounded him up a proper dinner with meats and vegetables, muttering to herself. "You can take the historian out of the university, but you can't take the university out of the historian."


Later that evening

Amanda entered Sandy's library tent bearing a half-full wine glass. "Where did you say this vintage came from, dear?"

"Hmmm?" Sandy looked up from his laptop, lifting his eyes from his notes on the first volume of the Discussion of Magic. "Naxos. It's some of the best from that era."

Amanda took another sip. "The medicinal fore-taste is a bit off-putting, but it develops so wonderfully!" She leaned over and kissed her husband's forehead. "You always bring me the best souvenirs." Sandy beamed back at her.

A chime sounded on the laptop. Sandy glanced at the screen before rising from his seat. He turned his left hand palm up and rapidly waggled his right fingers above it, producing a miniature fireworks display between his hands; its grand finale produced a shimmering, multi-colored "2018", which Sandy sustained for a count of ten. "Happy New Year, Amanda!" They hugged and kissed.

Pulling away, Amanda asked, "How do you do with mixed drinks?"

"You know the rule, dear: anything I've had to drink."

Amanda frowned and put her hands on her hips. "It's not like I keep a list, Sandy. Try this: vodka, peach schnapps, pineapple juice and cranberry juice."

Sandy seemed to study the tent's roof as he tried to figure out what that added up to. It seemed somewhat familiar, but it had been ages since they'd had cocktails. He took a guess: "Sex on the beach?"

An impish smile instantly replaced Amanda's frown. "Mmm, that would be nice. But indoors would do just as well."

Other sorts of fireworks quickly followed.

[OOC: Sterling appears courtesy of Squirrel Talent Management, Unlimited.]

[Giovenith]

OOC: Permission given to Tilt, who gave permission to me

It was a law of the universe that no matter how long the vacation, it never seemed enough. Unfortunate, but it was a fair trade, for that was what made them so special to begin with. Thus it came time to pack away the island for next year and return home, a long trek of responsibility and possibility awaiting them at the door.

February 14th, 10:35 AM

As one of the relatively less hyped holidays, Valentine's Day entered without much fanfare that one wouldn't normally expect. Dollar store deals here and there, plenty of red and purple cardboard propped in the various nooks and crannies of town, but nothing to blow the mind, especially not for those without anyone to dedicate the day to.

For the rest of the town, at least. At the Building, as usual, Giovenith was setting traps for those damn, dirty, bastard putti. She'd set up base in the communal kitchen, where a large crayon-drawn map of the property was laid out across the table and several small toys representing the key players in the oncoming battle. The godling muttered to herself, pushing the toys across the map with a stick, trying to think of various strategies but apparently having little luck as she kept huffing with frustration and resetting the map. She ignored Kerouac gently padding across the table, mostly because he kept to himself in curiously patting and meowing at a strangely still Willow standing at the side of the table, apparently choosing not to comment on whatever details his roommate formulated.

"And then we spray the bubbles..." Giovenith mumbled, shifting the Polly Pocket representing herself four paces before shaking her head. "No, no, they might notice Captain Teddy! Willow, did you analyze the lay-out of the third floor like I asked you to? Willow?"

Willow didn't answer, continuing to stand there motionlessly. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes.

Giovenith frowned. "Willow, it's rude to wear glasses inside!" Again, he didn't answer. She gently reached over to poke the pony, which drew no response either. "Willow?" Her fingers sought out the edge of the glasses and gently pulled them away, revealing closed, sleeping eyes. What?! But how- oh, right. Horses. "Willow, wake up!" She grabbed his face, smooshing his cheeks and giving them a good shake.

"Hnyah-!" Willow woke with a start, flaring his wings and stumbling in place. He bulged his eyes and tried to push through the groggy slur in his voice to convince Giovenith he really was awake. "I heard you, keep going!"

"You most certainly did not!" The godling crossed her arms, displeased. "You've got to pay attention, do you want the putti to win?"

He considered asking what she even did to warrant this ongoing war with a bunch of invisible flying babies anyway but thought better. "I'm sorry Geo-puzzle," he sighed, cracking his neck. "I just haven't been sleeping well is all, I'm sorry, I'll listen to you now."

"Have you been painting late?" Giovenith's eyes widened with sudden concern with her friend.

Yeah, that was a good excuse. "Yup, just been getting in the zone a lot lately, you know?"

"Well stop it! I understand what it's like to be on a roll, but health comes first."

"Of course."

"Good." She turned her attention back to the map, carefully shifting a small puppy figurine. "You sit this one out and go catch up on sleep now, I can take these brats."

"O-Oh no!" Willow waved a hoof, insisting. "I'm okay, you keep going!"

"Nope, off to bed!"

"Giov-"

"Bed!"

Kerouac blinked up at Willow. "Mreow."

Willow looked between the kitten and his friend, uncertain. He didn't want to hint at the real reason he hadn't been getting sleep. "Oh, alright. If that's okay."

"Mmmmhm." The godling was already consumed in her battle planning again.

Without another comment, Willow carefully scooped up Kerouac and made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, making sure he was out of Giovenith's line of sight before stopping. He sighed and pressed his back into the hallway wall, closing his eyes tightly and opening them over and over, trying to moisturize them. Kerouac tried to bend his head backwards to look up at him, occasionally meowing.

It's too much, the artist thought. Nightmares are for children. Why am I like this?

Children certainly (or at least hopefully) didn't have his nightmares though. They were rarely specific - he often dreamed just as much in abstract as he painted - but he always understood the fears they communicated and the reason behind them. He could feel himself being slowly crushed by blackness, unable to crawl away or scream. He could feel long knives burrowing into him while watching eyes did nothing. His experiences from proto-Equestria weren't going to go away as easily or quickly as he wanted.

I can beat it, he thought. It'll just take time. Until then, he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep more than necessary.

Kerouac, bored, wiggled his way out of Willow's grip and landed on his feet. He mewed and started down the hall. Needing a quiet moment to fully wake up, Willow followed closely behind where ever the kitten went, keeping a watchful eye on him.

[Northwest Slobovia]

When the Belas celebrated Valentine’s Day, which was not very often, they celebrated it by doing things as a couple. Today was no exception, and the day’s activity was cooking, which they hadn’t done for well over three years, Galli reckoning.

Amanda awoke to find Sandy gone; he returned bearing Greek gifts: flour, olive oil, honey, nuts, and spices, all to prepare tēganitēs – Greek pancakes – in the style of two thousand years ago. Amanda found it impossible to say no: they were comfort food with an exotic twist. Breakfast turned into brunch when Sandy revealed he’d also bought fixings for omelets.

As they relaxed at the kitchen table afterwards, Amanda finished the last of her coffee and asked, “Do you remember that flying ship you bought me last year? Do you recall what kind of magic makes it fly? Your note didn’t say.”

Sandy leaned back in his chair, looking rather casual, “It would be hard for me to forget; I bought it only a few weeks ago, by my calendar.

“It’s not magic. Er, at least I couldn’t See any during the very brief tour I got. It seems to be technological. The man selling it – he called himself Crazy Abdul – showed me the engine room. It runs on steam; there was a little coal aboard. Crazy Abdul had one of his, um, assistants run the engine just long enough to show me that it worked. I… I don’t think it runs very – It runs unevenly, and it leaks steam in a few places.” He turned his hands palms up and shrugged. “I have no idea what kind of anti-gravity device runs on steam power.”

Amanda responded with a long quizzical look. “Why not? Steam-powered anti-gravity perfectly complements pony goddesses pushing the sun and moon through the sky.

“I’d like to take more of a look at the ship, to find out how much work she needs.” Amanda caught Sandy’s suddenly raised and widened eyes. “Yes, I saw your note about all the dry rot. I bought some plywood sheets over the summer. They’re in your lab, between the dragon wings and the workbench.”

Sandy heaved himself out of his chair, and started for his workroom. Ordinarily, he’d have complained about Amanda storing things there, but right now he had stacked up scroll bins in a living room corner. “Then we might as well get to it.”

A sluggish through reached his consciousness as he opened the workroom door, and he turned back to Amanda. “The rudder is connected to the ship’s wheel by long chains. No power steering." Amanda, rising from the table, pressed her lips together: that was going to have to change.

The hardest part of the task was wrestling the wing boxes off the plywood; even without magic, getting the plywood sheets onto a dolly and out into the hall didn’t take long.

[Monfrox]

With everything back to the Building (along with a stocked fridge of leftovers from the feast), things went more or less as planned. Well, for most. A door creaked from the hallway, and something shuffled it's way on down the stairs to the kitchen. To call it a person may have been the truth, but it moved like a robot. Brit, dressed in her pajamas that consisted of thermal pants and a white t-shirt and her black zip-up hoodie, made herself some buttered toast despite the plethora of food that had been brought back. In a few minutes, she was sitting at the dining table. Her eyes felt heavy after not being able to get proper rest the past few days, and she felt no motivation to properly dress herself. She sat on the chair cross-legged and nibbled on her toast, eating purely out of necessity. Her hands trembled slightly, as she had not been eating much of anything for a while. She stared past her food as she tried to force herself to eat it.