Personification Life, the Universe, & Everything [IC]

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

"Fair enough - I wasn't a famous person anyway. The thing here is - we in Tuisto want our old identities, in order to connect ourselves with the past life in an almost Buddhist manner. Those who cannot, such as me, do not merely assume new identities. We adopt a 'misnominen', which is supposed to be kept as a temporary name until we find out about our past. In practice, however, most people die with it. It has little actual link to our past, only to our culture and nation." Dax replied.

"Magic is a part of daily life for us: most people hold the potential for it, yet most don't bother. To us, having magical powers and the ability to use them is nothing more than being skilled at a sport. Interesting, yes, unique, no. I am one of those people, and so are less impressed by it. Watch this." Dax continued, as he began to turn into a piano, playing Beethoven's 5th Symphony and then turning back as though it was all nothing.

"Most people, however, are unable to conduct magic, but there is nothing special about someone who can do magic." Dax said nonchalantly, as though turning into a piano and then turning back was considered normal.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Dax continued, as he began to turn into a piano, playing Beethoven's 5th Symphony and then turning back as though it was all nothing.

Sandy was entertained by the demonstration, and smiled warmly. "An interesting ability, but I'm not sure of the utility of shapeshifting into pianos." His tone was teasing, and after a couple of seconds, he went on. "What other musical instruments can you turn into?" His widening grin suggested he wasn't entirely serious about the question.

“No.”

Apparently, we have an outbreak of people trying too hard to help their friends today. "I think I can best fix my mistakes in person. Please tell Giovenith I'll come talk to her in a little while. Is she in her apartment?"

[Monfrox]

"She is. Might wanna expedite that."

Brit didn't wait around and took a few steps out from the doorway before pausing to squeeze the bridge of her nose. She felt like she was gonna explode. She needed an outlet. Something to work things out. Well, maybe she could get some use out of the holodeck since it was unoccupied. She headed up to her room to find out where it was in the brochure she had been given before taking the stairs to it. Well, hopefully she'd be able to cool off a little bit by working through some of her anger. She stepped in and started going through all the different settings, one at a time. It was new to her, so she was being careful on her first time around.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"She is. Might wanna expedite that."

Amanda sighed. "All right." This is a bigger mess than I thought. "Excuse me, Sterling." She then touched her husband's arm and whispered that she had to go, and got a brief nod in reply. Standing up, she started to make a mental to-do list, tapping her fingers as she went. Stunner: tempting but not helpful. Tone: I can manage. Giovenith's mood: apparently very upset and/or furious. Did she get anything to eat? I don't think so, and that might not be helping.

She picked up an empty plate and filled it with a little of everything, unsure of what the godling liked (besides meatballs and spaghetti, and that was years ago). She added a slice of pie and a few gingerbread men, then put a few gingerbread men on a saucer for herself. Deciding that was an awkward load, she searched the kitchen for a small tray, added a glass of water, and carried the dishes down the hall. She set the tray down to knock. She took a deep breath, readied herself, and then tried her best to sound friendly. "Giovenith? It's Amanda. I'd like to talk to you about what I said."

[Giovenith]

"I heard you've been a naughty boy while I was gone..." said Willow.

Kerouac responded by batting his nose with a purr.

"He missed his daddy," Giovenith cheerfully confirmed.

"Don't call me his daddy, it's weird."

"Two daddies!" Sallow cheered, trotting over and wrapping a wing around his flesh counterpart. "Modern parenting, go!"

Willow rolled his eyes. "Gosh, you two."

The paling around was interrupted by the sudden knocking on the door. At first they expected Brit, but collectively tensed up when Amanda's voice was heard. All eyes went to Giovenith, who looked back at them as if they might hold some answers. No such luck. Carefully, she got up and slowly opened the door a crack.

She didn't look angry or suspicious, but she was cautious, as if Amanda might start yelling at her again any second. She wasn't entirely sure what to say, not in the mood to be her usual upbeat self but also not wanting to make things worse by being hostile. In the background, Willow, Sallow, and Ms. Prism were silent (though that wasn't unusual for the latter.) It was Willow who broke the silence.

"Hey, how about I take you guys back to the library?" he offered, shifting the kitten to his back.

"I'll stay," Sallow said. "I'm part of this too."

"Alright then."

Carefully, Willow and Ms. Prism made their way past Amanda and down the hall hastily.

Sallow spoke first. "Amanda, this is all my fault. I didn't mean to spring Prizzy on you guys. Please don't be too mad at her, she hasn't learned as much as some of us yet, she's still like a baby. I'll teach her better, I promise. She really is good despite what she seems."

"It's not your fault, Sallow," Giovenith reassured, tiredly. "If I hadn't been mean to you, this wouldn't have ever happened."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Sallow spoke first. "Amanda, this is all my fault. I didn't mean to spring Prizzy on you guys. Please don't be too mad at her, she hasn't learned as much as some of us yet, she's still like a baby. I'll teach her better, I promise. She really is good despite what she seems."

Amanda's eyes widened momentarily, as she was torn between fear and surprise. Two thoughts crossed her mind. Oh, great, a baby with her very own nuclear arsenal! and Normally, I'd nail Sallow's hide to a wall for that admission, but this is anything but normal. If 'Prizzy' isn't culpable, Sallow isn't either, and fault lies with Naomi. Regardless of which emotion was stronger, she couldn't quite hide either. But she was used to wearing a mask enough to keep her reply to just, “Prizzy? Is that her name?”

She shifted her gaze to Giovenith, unsure of the reception she was getting. “May I come in? I brought you some dinner. I don't think you got very much, if any.”

[Giovenith]

"Her name is Ms. Prism," Sallow explained. "I gave it to her after I found her trapped in a corner in the paper rooms."

"You can come in." Giovenith held open the door and stepped aside. "You can set the food on the counter."

Still unsure about how to approach the issue, Giovenith drifted towards Sallow and set her hands on his head and back, much as she would have with Willow. This wasn't lost on him, and he smiled while looking up at her. The smile vanished as she spoke again.

"Amanda, what kind of person do you think I am?" she asked. It wasn't rhetorical or argumentative as the question would normally be phrased, but genuine and quiet. Her eyes remained down on Sallow.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Her name is Ms. Prism," Sallow explained. "I gave it to her after I found her trapped in a corner in the paper rooms."

Following Giovenith into her apartment, Amanda simply said, “I see.” 'Too dumb to find her way out of a box without directions' might be more accurate, but neither tactful nor helpful.

"Amanda, what kind of person do you think I am?"

“Direct and to the point. I appreciate that.” Amanda's smile showed a genuine warmth; if they had a similar communication style, this might be easier than she'd thought. “I'm not sure how to answer that. I could rattle off the facts I know about you, but I don't think that's what you want. Most of what I know about your personality is second-hand. So, I can honestly say I don't know.

“I do know, however, that I'm here to apologize for what I said. I shouldn't have said that, not then, not that way.” She shook her head ruefully. “Fear and anger is a powerful combination, but they're my problem, not yours. I'm sorry. I seem to have struck a nerve, which I didn't intend.”

[Giovenith]

"When you yelled at me, it seemed like you thought you had a pretty good idea," Giovenith said, still looking down at her hands petting Sallow. "You think I'm one of those bad gods who pushes people around and thinks I'm better than everyone. Even if you said it while you were scared or mad, you still must think it in some way, or it wouldn't have come out."

It seemed like too big of a subject for Giovenith to get into everything she had told Brit, Kathy, and Willow back in the reflection. The implication would have to stand on its own for now; they couldn't dance around the actual issue at hand for long.

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't know why you disagreed with what I did. Maybe you were right and I was wrong, but this was how I saw it: tons of people were tense and getting ready to draw weapons on Ms. Prism. They would have hurt or destroyed her, and that might have caused trouble with the other paper beings, or with Naomi. It definitely would have hurt Sallow. All sorts of bad things could have happened, like a domino effect, and all because I was stupid and took out my own anger on Sallow before the feast..." She pat the paper-pony's head apologetically.

"Maybe you think that would have been okay, that those people deserved those consequences, but I didn't want more fighting and violence to happen. I thought that if I just did what Ms. Prism wanted and apologized to Sallow, which I should have done anyway, then nothing else violent had to happen, and then me and Sallow could teach Ms. Prism to be better afterwards so this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. Nobody else would have gotten hurt except for almost me. I thought it was my responsibility to stop things from getting worse. That's why I wanted everyone to stand down, not because I think what Ms. Prism did was okay, or because I think I knew better than everyone, but because I made things go wrong in the first place and I had the power to keep the peace." She frowned. "I don't like violence. Everyone who does know me knows that. You can ask-" She paused. "You can ask them. Maybe I was wrong, but I don't think I'm the sort of person you think I am. It's like I said downstairs — I was just doing my best."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Amanda noted Giovenith's style: pretend to be nice, hit hard; the gentle question was just a set-up. Fine, she could work with that; no need to pull her punches. Perhaps the scene in the dining room was just an act, too.

She put her hands on her hips, and while her face remained neutral, her tone firmed up. “I'm not sure which accusation you just made is worse. Let's start with the big one: we 'would have' hurt or destroyed Ms. Prism? You have either the gift of telepathy or Foresight to know for sure?”

[Giovenith]

"No," she said, bluntly but not rudely. "But did I have to to ask people not to do it anyway?"

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

Dax continued, as he began to turn into a piano, playing Beethoven's 5th Symphony and then turning back as though it was all nothing.

Sandy was entertained by the demonstration, and smiled warmly. "An interesting ability, but I'm not sure of the utility of shapeshifting into pianos." His tone was teasing, and after a couple of seconds, he went on. "What other musical instruments can you turn into?" His widening grin suggested he wasn't entirely serious about the question.

"Heh. Funny." Dax replied, nonchalantly. "So, if I may ask, what did happen on 1991 that led me to commit suicide? Did the world end? Did we begin a nuclear war? Did Dresden fall under American occupation or..?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

Dax replied, nonchalantly. "So, if I may ask, what did happen on 1991 that led me to commit suicide? Did the world end? Did we begin a nuclear war? Did Dresden fall under American occupation or..?"

Chuckling, Sandy started his reply. “Not in my timestream it didn't! No nuclear wars or other apocalypses, nothing special that leaps to mind."

Sandy paused, trying to come up with wording. “Every dimension... every universe in the omniverse has many timestreams. Perhaps an infinite number of them. I-- I don't know; I'm not sure that anybody other than Demens and the other Greater Beings know how many. So, my Earth probably isn't the one you remember. It seems to be similar to it, but a definite determination might take a while.”

He paused again, eyes moving as he thought about it. “I'm not sure what would be diagnostic. A visit would be, but I'm not sure how to arrange a visit to a world you only remember fragments of. Trying to show that there are no Jonbar points between our worlds – that they're on the same branch of the tree of timestreams – might not be possible without Demens' help.”

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

[REDACTED]

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Holiday Feast

Meritari eagerly dug into her meal as she listened to Sigtrygg talk about her people from his perspective, first by clearing up the misunderstanding that Serkland was not Egypt - something that she couldn't have known given her earlier origins, though she appreciated the opportunity to learn - and then by speaking about Egypt proper as it was during his time. The mention of the ankh surprised her, though she had little idea of what a Christian was. She finished off her mutton dish - and what a delicious dish it was! - and nodded along as the viking spoke of his occasional battles against her people from the future, as well as mentioning their religion, one she didn't recognize. Had they left the worship of Re? Most strange. I'll have to ask Sandy about that sometime. She mused as she grabbed a slice of her own bread and took a hearty bite.

Before she could either make reply or continue feasting, however, the feast as a whole soured. First came the arrival of a strange puppet made of the smooth white papyrus Gallimaufreyans used. Meritari raised an eyebrow at the sight - being used to weird crap only went so far - and then gasped and backed off in alarm as she saw the creature attack Giovenith. This spurred most of those present at the feast into action, and they readied themselves to defend their friend. She would have, too, were she any good at warfare, but as things were, she could only stand back and watch.

Fortunately the issue was resolved without further incident, or so it seemed, until Amanda spoke harshly to the godling, who reacted with sadness and frustration, storming off the feast.

By then, as was natural, the mood was thoroughly ruined, though there was no shortage of people attempting to repair the damage that had been caused. Personally, Meri found that difficult after everything that happened. Turning to the viking, she offered him a sheepish smile.

"Well, that wasn't such a great way to end this holiday feast, was it?" She told Sigtrygg, before picking up her dishes. "Since I've had my fill, I think I'm going to help our hosts with the cleaning. It was nice talking to you, Sig. I look forward to hearing more of your stories."

And with that, the Kemetian walked off towards Mon and Lidev, to help however she could.

[Holy Lykos]

Holiday Feast

"And I of yours! Dinner may not have had a pleasant end, but good food and new friends makes it worth it." He nodded at the retreating Kemetian. He looked as jovial as before, it was hard to ruin the mood of a norseman set on enjoying himself. Battle between the residents seemed an occasional thing, so he was worried about that, but it seemed to resolve itself.

He sighed, and simply set to work collecting the plates and scraps, placing them together closer to the kitchen. Just a bit of help. "I must be off, and return my mead and foods to the cold box in my room." He announced, before doing just that. He figured too many helping clean, especially with the purple pony and Meritari, would just get in the way. Plus the fact he wasn't exactly the most delicate of people to be handling plates and cleaning, he was more liable to break something!

[Northwest Slobovia]

Apartment 2L, The Building,
Long after the Holiday Feast

Sandy stuck his head out of his workroom at the sound of the apartment door swinging open. “Good timing, dear! It's just about midnight.”

Amanda stepped into the apartment, looking haggard. “Then we can kiss and go to bed.”

“That bad?”

She ignored the question, catching sight of all of the left-over bottles of wine and liquor arranged on the table. She shuffled over to them, but a familiar-looking plant caught her attention, and she picked up the grape... plant, now in flower with a tiny bunch of grapes forming beneath its much-grown leaves. “Sandy? Does this mean what I think it means?”

The sorcerer ambled over, talking as he came. “They heard? Impossible to say. Demens could have done it himself, just to yank our chains.”

“Wait, 'they'?” Amanda's gaze momentarily rested on Sandy's face, then returned to the grape plant as she looked it over carefully. She found what she wanted, and moved the tiny angel ornament closer to get a better look at it. “It's gold now, isn't it? With a silver trumpet, and... my God, you can see the feathers on all of its wings!” She looked up at Sandy again. “It's an angel of the Annunciation now! The work's too good; didn't you say the Chaos pantheons can't do things like this?”

“Only by chance.” He shrugged. “I didn't See it happen, so I can't say who did it. If Demens let Dionysus and Jesus peer through a keyhole into Galli and work in mysterious ways, all the better, but the craftsmanship isn't so good as to say it takes a divine touch. Demens could have just as easily borrowed it and had somebody in Hammerfall make a better one.”

Nodding, Amanda set the plant down, then lifted the ornament from it. She disappeared into the bedroom, returning with a necklace with a crucifix pendant, sizing the angel up with the crucifix. “It's a little big for a necklace, but I think I prefer the symbolism: 'Hark, the Son of God comes to redeem you!' It's not like the people where Willow's from will recognize the cross, and the angel makes a better conversation starter than an abstract symbol.”

Behind Sandy, his laptop's alarm peeped. He stepped back, made a set of sweeping gestures with his arms, like an orchestra conductor calling for a crescendo, and firmly spoke a few words. Barrages of miniature fireworks leapt from his hands, forming foot-tall golden digits a couple yards away: 2019.

Amanda gave Sandy a deep enough kiss that he forgot all about his spell; the fireworks faded to a tiny pink heart before winking out.



Overnight

”AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Startled awake, Amanda groped around under her pillow. Gun! Where's my gun??[i] She reached under the bed, fumbled around beneath it. [i]Gun! Gotta get the gun! The fuck is my...!?

I'm in Galli. Home. Which means...

”AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

She rolled over to Sandy, trying to reach around him with a comforting hug. “It's just a dream. You're at home, Sandy. It's all right, it's just a dream.”

Sandy, sitting bolt-upright, took a deep breath, then another. “I saw... A nightmare.”

“It's all right. It's gone.”

He shook his head. “Second World War, Winter 1944... a fortress in the snow. Blood. I saw--”

Amanda hugged him harder. “Oh, great, now you're having battle nightmares too.” She gave him a playful kiss on the temple; it was better than poking at still-raw wounds.

He shook his head more vigorously, half turned to her – it was difficult, with Amanda holding him so tightly – and put his arm around her. “Not my nightmare: Brit's.” He took a deep breath, trying to clutch at the fleeing fragments of the nightmare. “Her heart wrapped in barbed wire. Willow and Ford – Willow and Sterling were there, too, somehow – thought it was her guilt.

“She's-- She needs help, Amanda. She's trapped, she can't get over what she did after Kale's friendly fire accident.”

Sandy could barely make out his wife's expression in the darkness. “Sandy, that's four years ago, Galli time! If that wasn't a nightmare--”

“Different sort of nightmare. It's what Ford was doing, the same way he gets my studying dreams. I just don't know the details. I'll have to check with Ford in the morning.” He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. “Urgh, 3:20am. We have to be up early, ooohhh...” He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Amanda snuggled up beside him, already falling back asleep.



Dawn, New Year's Day, 2019

Sandy made haste slowly in the kitchen, getting the ingredients for tēganitēs ready. He had no choice: he needed another hour of sleep, but needs must. Holo-simulations of the Mouseion's kitchen staff could cook tēganitēs easily enough, but for them to be filling, they had to be made of real food.

He conjured mocha into a mug; mocha as he made it: half black coffee, half hot chocolate, smooth and creamy. That would get him through breakfast. Maybe a nap after lunch.

A bit later, the Belas headed up to the holodeck, carrying trays of ingredients for breakfast. Sandy called for the Mouseion dining room simulation. The room popped into existence, virtual scholars chatting in the background. He carried the ingredients to the kitchen, handed them to the holo-servants, and told them what he wanted.

Outside, unseen by the Belas, snow had started to fall. Well, something like snow, though it fell in wide, brightly colored stripes: pink, yellow, green, blue, and many other shades.

[Giovenith]

Over the horizon, a bunny appeared. It stood there on its hind feet, wiggling its little nose, before it began to make its way down the majestic hill where it had perched. Followed soon behind it was another bunny. Then another. And another. And three more. And six more. And twelve more.

A wave of bunnies rolled over the hills, reverently carrying their precious load through the wild flowers and green hills and towards the towering fortress ahead. Onward they marched as a mighty, fluffy unit, relentless in their quest. Finally, after a long and perilous journey, they succeeded. They poured their way through the doors of the building, and gently, ever so gently, unloaded Claude Walmerden from their fluffy clutches.

The man at the desk, without looking up from his book, half-assedly tossed the room keys in the philosopher's general direction.

The bunnies piled out, hearts already set on their next mission.

[Monfrox]

The Holodeck

Sometimes, if you want time to yourself, you need to make it. And that was Brit's hope right now. Take time for herself, even though she was exceedingly tired. Still, the possibility of being able to do almost anything she wanted with the holodeck was a tantalizing premise. She made sure she grabbed a few cans of pop and even filled up her small flask with whiskey just to make sure she could keep awake enough without stringing herself out. She decided to take it slow at first. Target practice. She set the location to the rifle range at Fort Leonard Wood in the winter during the 1980's, letting her get into the M81 Woodland BDUs once more along with simulated PASGT equipment. She picked up an M16A2, loaded the magazine, and sighted it in down the range. Targets popped up in basic buildings, and she shot each one she saw. Her aim left something to be desired of, but that was what she was here for.

Or was it? In reality, she was grinding two stones. Trying to sharpen her aim, and get rid of her anger. Channel it like she had been told she could do. It took a lot to piss her off enough to unload on someone, but...Amanda had become the first person to to get as close to getting that as anyone else in the building. She hoped that she was making up with Gio right now. She breathed out her mouth to stop from clenching her teeth anymore; A bad habit she had picked up in her time. Her shots were getting a bit wide and she stopped when the magazine ran dry. She slowly took a deep breath as she reloaded her rifle and hit the bolt release. Stay in it. Focus. Sight in. Squeeze. She let the rage out in a controlled beat of gunshots. Luckily, she didn't need to worry about hearing protection with the settings she put in. She continued to pop targets as she saw them, trying to challenge herself to match speed and accuracy.

She couldn't really tell that she was improving, but then again it had been over the course of more than four hours into the night by now. She slung her M16 over her shoulder and went for one of the pops. She felt dark thoughts in her head and that sort of poison working its way through her body, causing her to trudge instead of walk. She wondered if it was the weight of the gear, though. She yawned and took a few drinks before looking up at the simulated gray sky above her. She quickly went back to the range to occupy her mind with something, which worked until her anger had been quelled enough that she felt she was done. She took another break and sat and thought. It was hard not to think about what had happened, and what happened back then. But she hadn't had any time back in the Building since. Years had gone, but it felt like only a few weeks ago it had happened. She found an M60A3 tank and sat on the side of its hull.

"I can't...ever again...let something like that happen." She told herself as her mind went over the events of the past years.

Between the big incident, the journey to Equestria, and the nightmare, she had been sufficiently worn out. A night to herself like this was good, but she couldn't help but think that something was going to really need to change for her. One thing was for sure, she knew she could never try to field herself in a dedicated medical role ever again. She couldn't be responsible like that again. She wouldn't be. She wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering if it'd be worth it to visit the families of the dead. A small gesture, but she doubted they'd want to see her for what she was there for. It'd just reopen old wounds. Well then...what could she do? She sighed openly and leaned back against the turret of the tank. She wondered if Amanda knew what she had gotten herself into with Gio. Sometimes, and even she herself was guilty of it, people forget to remind themselves that things go on around them that they don't see. Things outside of the realm of their being and interaction, that affect people like Gio. People like Willow, and Sterling, and all the other residents.

And just as that, Brit had reeled herself back in because maybe Amanda had been experiencing some troubles lately which led to her outburst. Because she wanted to let her know exactly how she felt, but she knew it wasn't the right time for it. And yet, she had caused an immense amount of grief and stress to one of her close friends. Well...what had happened, happened. She only hoped that at this point, maybe they could all take a step back and think. For as fantastical as this place was, it wasn't like things didn't still have entirely real consequences. Brit hoped that she would be able to come to terms with her own consequences of her actions down the road, but for now she had been awake a bit too long.

"Maybe I'll just...rest my eyes." She yawned, leaning her head back. She was out like a light in ten seconds flat, M16 across her lap, laying against the armor of an M60 Patton tank.

[Giovenith]

Of course Willow had a nightmare. That was a given at this point.

The contents of the dream didn't matter, you could very well guess what they were. When it was finished, and he was rescued by Celestia's grace streaming through his window, he laid still in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the sweat on his face dry, and the gentle tingling of a purring Kerouac curled up next to him, asleep.

He blinked and wiped his bangs aside with a sigh. So, is this how you want to spend your life? he asked himself, rather neutrally. Nurturing the angst with the occasional pep talk, rinse and repeat?

Willow imagined the day he'd die. Not in a suicidal manner, but as a manner of existential exercise. It wasn't an easy thing for anyone to do, it naturally made your stomach churn and your mind lurch, but it was a matter of fact we all had to sit down and examine sometimes. Of course death seemed impossibly distant, more like a theoretical fantasy than a reality, but he had once thought the same thing about many milestones in his life, like finishing school or moving into his own house. At some point, no matter how long it took, he was going to begin anticipating his end as naturally as he anticipated his thirtieth birthday. He'd lay in bed like he was now and try to organize through his thoughts so as to make the final ones worthwhile, wondering what it'd feel like to finally start fading out, grappling with that he'd simultaneously get his answer but never know it. It'd probably be like falling asleep, but without the blackness or the dream to catch you — without anything at all. His mind couldn't wrap around that, which was in a way, the entire point.

As far as Willow knew, nobody "earned" existence. Even assuming we were all created by a god, that god's existence was, even if in a grand and incomprehensible way, happenstance. In fact, he had the rare privilege of knowing for a fact that the Greater Beings "just were, always were" — happenstance. Therefore, he was happenstance, no matter how you spun it. He was the winner of the biggest lottery out there, but he only had a little time to enjoy the prize. His charge, his condition to his luck, was to make of life what he could. Most people worry about facing and answering to their gods at the end of life, but they seldom think about the even more taxing inevitability: having to face and answer to yourself. Do you like the choices you made? Did you use your time wisely? Because there's no re-takes in the test of life; grades are final, so study well.

This was Willow's time to study. And with how things were going right now, he wasn't exactly confident of an A.

"Mrrr." Kerouac gently padded his way up to his owner's face, sniffing delicately.

"It's time to start asking the hard questions then, isn't it?" Willow smiled and cupped the kitten close. It purred and nuzzled against his hoof. "Why don't I like myself, what do I want? We can't just cry and confess forever." He scratched under the kitty's chin. "Nopony's coming to save me from the trash bin, after all."

He sat up and stretched his wings. He didn't have to come up with the answer to his entire life right there and then. Asking what he wanted today was a good start. Which was what?

To be happy. He wiped the final bit of moisture from his mane and smiled a little. Contrary to popular belief, I do get sick of being a walking stereotype every once in a while.

One of the things that made Willow happy was spoiling his friends. They all deserved it anyway with what they'd been through as of late. So by the time Giovenith finally pulled herself from her own nest of fleece and stuffed animals, the kitchen was already filled with the smell of scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes.

"Morning, princess," he greeted in a friendly-mocking tone, blissfully adding heavy salt and pepper to her eggs the way she liked it. "Did you sleep well?"

The young lady shrugged in her ruffled PJs. "I didn't dream much."

"Sometimes that's a good thing. Gives our minds a break."

The sunlight always hit their home in a friendly way with the generous space of their windows, so it wasn't hard to coax Giovenith into sitting down and enjoying a proper meal. Willow joined her shortly, sighing contently at the mixing joys of his warm toast, eggs, and coffee. "What do you want to do today?" he asked.

"Hm?" Her cheeks puffed with food.

"Do we ask ourselves that, much?" Willow remarked, adjusting a coaster on the table. "We're always wondering about some quest or task we have to do. When do we ever just sit here and decide what we want to do anymore?"

Giovenith considered this, swallowing her food. "Huh, I never thought of it that way. But you're right... that would be good for us, wouldn't it?" It certainly fit into her newfound approach to life: focusing on herself and the good people around her. No more chore-friends. No more endless sacrificing. "What do you want to do?"

A glint of color caught the corners of their eyes, and they turned to look outside. It was there that they first saw the rainbow-colored snow that had begun to fall. Willow turned and winked at her.

"We could do that," he mused, finishing his coffee.

Giovenith nodded excitedly. Rainbow snow? Of course! "Yes, yes!"

"I'll see if our winter gear is dry," said Willow, getting up from the table. "You finish up your food, and then we'll get ready." He rounded into the hallway.

Giovenith began to dig in quickly, trying to pace herself to finish quickly while still enjoying what was left. Relaxing, playing in the pretty magic snow with her best friend, now that was a day! These thoughts were interrupted, however, by a slight shifting sound from nearby. As first she thought Willow had returned, but didn't see him when she turned her head. Instead, her gaze fell at the front door, and at the sudden appearance of a piece of paper near the bottom crack. Perplexed, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, made her way across their living room, and bent to pick it up. It was a note.

Hey,

I've missed you. I can't begin to say how sorry I am. I won't try here — meet me by the lake at noon. I'll truly show you how much there.

Don't tell anyone, I want it to be just us for once.

— Marcus

Her bones fossilized in place.

"Are you already done?" Willow called from the hall.

The letter quickly folded in half and Giovenith tried to maintain a controlled expression. "A-Almost. I might save some of it for later." She feared he might hear her heart pounding. "I'm going to go wash up, okay? Soon!" And she hurried off to the bathroom, where she could collect her breath.

Willow pondered this briefly, before brushing it off and putting away the leftovers. He reminded himself to see if Brit wanted to join them today.

--

In the eerie quiet of the morning hallway, little scratching sounds began to kritch-kritch-kritch on Dax Liebsturk's door.

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

Claude looked around, inquiring and investigating. That is, until he saw Dax.

"Hello, Dax." Claude said, ever so coldly and distantly.

"What? MutteringClaude, do you want some random alcohol?" Dax replied, startled slightly.

"Of course you'd talk about alcohol. Now, I've better got to get back to my business." Claude remarked, shifting his glasses slightly and staring at his mechanical watch.

"Business..business...Go on." Dax replied, with so much apathy that he could be mistaken for sleeptalking.

"Alright then, I shall leave." Claude bowed in an extravagant fashion as Dax rolled his eyes, walking along.

Dax continued to sip more and more alcohol, his tolerance so high that 3 whole bottles could barely make him drunk. After drinking two more and slipping about 20 times, he made his way to his room, ever so clumsily.

[Northwest Slobovia]

1 January 2019
Holodeck

The morning of New Year's Day, Meritari found herself calmly walking down the path that led to the building's Holodeck for her scheduled breakfast with the Belas. There was still a festive air about the Building and its inhabitants, who were all too eager to celebrate the dawn of another year - the Kemetian simply found it strange, as for her people the year did not begin on this day, or even this month. Then again, could the two calendars even be compared? They weren't only separated by thousands of years in time, but by space and countless dimensions as well.

I wonder if some of the other residents feel the same way.

As she mused about this, the young woman reached the door to the Holodeck. Stepping in, she was immediately greeted by the sight of a large, beautifully decorated hall filled with ornaments, columns, and tables which housed various scholars engrossed in conversation - undoubtedly simulated, yet playing out their script in a lifelike manner. The Kemetian easily recognized many elements of the place, even though she had never seen it before: the building she had seen the day she met the Belas was quite similar.

A moment passed, and so did her awe. Having gawked enough, Meri looked around. Luckily it didn't take her long to spot the Belas, out of place as they were in an ancient setting like that, and she quickly approached them.

"Sandy, Amanda, greetings!" She said to them before looking at the former in particular. He seemed tired, and his ka felt weaker than usual. "Is everything alright?"

He waggled his head, unsure of how to answer. After a few seconds, he finally settled on, “Late evening, and then I didn't sleep well. I need to follow up with Brit on, um, something from last night, but it looks like she's got another section of the holodeck... some sort of military simulation... contemporary for... our world.

“But I see you like the architecture.” Smiling, he looked around. “This is the Mouseion's dining room. It seemed appropriate, since that's where I got the recipe. The kitchen staff was entertained that a scholar would care so much about cooking, but they decided that I was... harmlessly eccentric.”

Amanda, by contrast, was energetic and cheerful. “Good morning, Meritari! Oh! There's breakfast!” A trio of servants – doubtless slaves, given the period – bore plates of tēganitēs. Even from a distance, they gave off the aromas of fresh baking and spices. Another servant followed, carrying a tray holding more tēganitēs, with small side dishes containing fruit, additional spices, sesame seeds, and two pitchers: a small glass one filled with honey, and a large stoneware one containing water. They set the food down and departed.

Amanda beamed at the breakfast feast. “This is much richer than our typical breakfasts. Nobody eats this way where we're from, not even the very wealthy. But it's all so good! Sandy brings me the best souvenirs when he travels!”

The Kemetian nodded at Sandy with an understanding smile. It was only natural that a lack of sleep led to a less than healthy disposition, but on the whole, it also was nothing to worry about unless chronic. However it certainly didn't seem to be enough to put a dent on his enthusiasm, as he quickly went on to talk about the impression he'd left on the cooks while trying to obtain a recipe.

Amanda was quite energetic as well, and was especially cheerfful at the prospect of eating the tēganitēs, and Meri nodded yet again. "They do smell wonderful." She admitted as the scent of the freshly baked goods reached her nostrils. Moving to sit on the table where the feast had been laid out, she observed the various dishes and quickly surmised they were to be used as dressing for the tēganitēs. Both curious and eager, the Kemetian grabbed a plate and prepared one of the cakes with a healthy helping of sliced fruit and a drizzling of honey before trying it out.

"Delicious!" She exclaimed almost immediately, which caused the word to come out muffled. The honey, fruit and spices, coupled with a nutty flavor she hadn't been expecting, made the dish quite a delicacy for the ancient woman's tastes. "It's a good thing I decided to bake a little something for yesterday." She said with a smile before digging in again - after all, if it hadn't been for her bread, the offer to have breakfast together likely wouldn't have come up.

"So, not even the rich eat this type of thing in your time?" She asked casually to make some small talk as they ate.

Amanda shook her head, a tight frown on her face. “At one time, anybody who could afford it had very rich breakfasts, with meat, eggs, and cheeses along with bread and fruit. Then, about one hundred years ago, a group of people decided that that wasn't healthy, and tried to promote simpler food for breakfast...” The conversation turned to food in their respective cultures, and eventually, the Belas' expected return to Hellenistic Egypt – which they invited Meritari to – before gradually ending with the meal.

* * *

Sandy slid the plate of leftover tēganitēs into the one of the few open spots in their refrigerator, then looked over the packed fridge. “We might as well finish them with some of the leftovers from last night.”

Amanda merely hummed agreement as she opened the dining room curtains. “Oh! Sandy! Look at the snow!” He appeared at the window moments later, a smile growing to fill his face. “That's too good to pass up!” With a heavy sigh, he added, “But Brit first. I'll be down after that.”

“Hit me with the keep-warm spell before you go, please.” He did, before taking the stairs back up to the fifth floor. With a little help from the holodeck, he found Brit sacked out on a late-model tank. He crunched through dried grass and leaves to reach her, and stood puzzling how to wake her, given her expected mental state. Might as well try the simple things first. "Brit? It's Sandy. Wake up, please! Brit..." He tried a few variations on that, each a little louder than the last.

Outside

Amanda passed groggy cultists, just hauling their snow gear back into the lobby for Residents wanting another opportuntity to play in the weather. One was sweeping green snow off the Building's front steps as Amanda walked by. She stood in ankle-deep snow on the Building's lawn, trying to decide what to do.

[OOC: Collab with Zark]

[Northwest Slobovia]

After the Holiday Feast
(Held over from previous evening)

Amanda shook her head. “I doubt it. The only armed person in the room was Sigtrygg, and he was wearing a sword. He didn't leap to attack, and didn't look he was going to.

“Sandy and I were looking for ways to defend ourselves, but we're not crazy about fighting. We've fought supers before, and don't relish repeating it. Sandy seemed to be intently watching Ms. Prism, probably judging if she was starting to cast. I'm not sure what Brit was doing, but she wasn't wearing a gun.

“That leaves Willow and Sterling. Sterling seemed like he was more of a danger to himself, trying to get a better look. That leaves Willow. You tell me: is he likely to start a fight?” The question was entirely rhetorical; Amanda didn't wait for an answer.

“Everybody seemed to be watching and waiting. I don't think anybody would have done anything else unless Ms. Prism made another hostile move.”

Giovenith listened but shook her head. "Maybe it's just a difference in approach, but I still don't really see any difference. I think even if I was with people who were unable attack I would ask everyone for peace, it just seems like a natural request. However, I can see how you might see it as an implication on your character. And for that, I'm sorry."

“Thank you.” Amanda began to gesture, pointing at Giovenith, not angrily, but conversationally, to emphasize her points. “You have to be more-- Strike that.” With a sweep of her hand to the side, she dismissed the point she was about to make.

“Something you said earlier: how long have you lived here, in the Building? You were here when we arrived. You were one of the first people we met. That was four and a half years ago. You’re 22 or 23 years old now, aren’t you? So you would have been in your late teens then.

“Have you lived in the Building since leaving your pantheon’s heaven?”

Sallow nudged Giovenith in a parting gesture and trotted off to start busywork in the kitchen. He carefully dropped things into the sink and searched the cabinets for dry snacks while his not-roommate fiddled with her fingers and looked at her shoes.

"I've been here since I was fifteen," she answered. "My mom sent me away here during a God War, and I decided to stay after making so many friends. I didn't really live in her heaven before, though. I was there sometimes, but I mostly grew up at our own apartment back in the Empire — the country I was named after." She clarified. "It wasn't a magic apartment, not like this one, it was owned by this elderly couple and built above a dance club in the big city. They were nice. My mom moved there in the eighties, because she likes dance music."

Amanda cocked her head at the young goddess. “You seem embarrassed. What’s wrong?”

"I'm not embarrassed," she stated, breaking her stance and moving towards the kitchen to pick up a cup of the cinnamon drink Sallow had prepared. Willow's famous cinnamon drink: like hot chocolate, but if you melted a cinnamon bun, frosting and all, down into a piping hot liquid. It was like care and nostalgia in one cup. Giovenith thanked Sallow, put a cute little snuggie around the mug, and handed it to Amanda. "I've just been... sad, lately. I'm still a little sad, but it's okay. Why do you ask about how long I've been here?"

“I may misunderstand your background.” She accepted the drink with thanks, but found it too sweet for her taste. “Mind if I sit down?” She started for a seat, but didn’t actually sit, awaiting permission.

She took another sip of the cinnamon stuff; at least it was wet. “What was your life like when you lived in the apartment above the dance club? Did you go to school with mortal kids? Did you interact with mortals outside of school, other children, other adults?”

"You can sit," Giovenith reassured, grabbing her own cup of the cinnamon drink. "My life back then... it was different from most people's, but it was simple. I was homeschooled, but I could go outside and interact with anyone I wanted. My mom and older siblings were gone a lot, so I watched after myself a lot. I had a bus pass, so I could explore the city and go places like the museums or shops. For a few years, when I was little, my mom sent me to a summer daycare held at the community center, which was kind of like school. We decorated t-shirts, and watched movies with popcorn, and went to the park..." She smiled and looked off for a second at the happy memories. "... but I didn't really have many long-term friends my age, aside from the siblings closer to my age. The closest I had were the other adults who lived at the apartment and the repeat patrons of the dance club, but they were just nice to me, not really friend-friends. None of them knew what I was. I wasn't allowed to tell."

She drummed her fingers on the mug, looking down in deliberation.

"My mom's style has always been more... abstract. You ever hear that quote from the Gospel of Thomas? 'The kingdom of God is inside you and all around you, not in a mansion of wood and stone. Split a piece of wood and God is there, lift a stone and you will find God.' That was talking about Elohim, but that's how she is too. It's how most of the Creators are. She doesn't generate ethereal palaces or halls for herself, you can't find her in one special place. If you enter our heaven it will look like whatever is convenient for the moment, there's no Olympus or Asgard to write poems about or anything. So I grew up in 'the real world,' because all children need grounding and consistency, and because that's where my focus will be on when I grow up: in the split wood and lifted stone — in the cracked sidewalks and the sticky and glittery dance clubs — in the people and all around them."

Amanda nodded at Giovenith’s description of herself and her attitude. “The Gospel of Thomas is apocryphal, but it’s a common enough sentiment that I’ve heard similar things before.

“It sounds funny saying this to a goddess, but it sounds like you had a sheltered upbringing: no friends your own age, largely solitary, home-schooled. So, I’ll have to take back what I said, again: you couldn’t have known better.”

She paused, considered the godling, and went with her usual approach: speak truth to power. Her tone was as gentle as she could make it, but her delivery was still direct. “Everything you say or do will be judged as coming from a position of power. That happens to people where Sandy and I are from. There, power usually means ‘authority’, the ability to direct people, though sometimes it means coercive power.

“Supernatural power is almost unknown at home: maybe one person in a million has any, maybe one in ten million can work magic. If any of them were publically known, and spoke forcefully to people, they’d get an even stronger reaction: magic is a big stick. Well, it frequently is. That’s how I saw you: backing your words with the ability to enforce them with means we can’t resist. I still do. You may not intend to use that power, but you can.”

"I don't have that much power," Giovenith protested, though a bit weakly. From a personal sense, it was true. Take away her paper supply, and she was functionally not much different from an average girl. Slight her, and Perlelei wasn't likely to take vengeance. But like Amanda said, just because they'd choose not to do something horrible to someone didn't change the fact that, in theory, they could. She crossed her arms and looked down. "But I see what you're saying... I think I once had a talk like this with Willow once."

"You did." Sallow confirmed, pouring more cups.

"I mean, I don't want people to think that though," she grimaced, rubbing her arm. Her tone was protesting, but not argumentative. "Like, you're right, Amanda, but it's like... I was born this way, you know? It's not like I went after power myself. And I do try my best to be fair and nice just like anyone else, but I get mad, and tired, and sad just like everyone else. You're not the first person to feel like I was using my power against them all because we got into a disagreement, even when they were the ones being unfair. But I have to step off anyway? It's just, sometimes I feel like I'm always giving up what I want so someone else can go first, or like people think it's justified to push me around and use me, like..." The sad expression returned. "... like it doesn't matter how I feel. That it never did and it never will."

Amanda pressed her fingers to her lips, as though trying to hide her smile rising behind it. There was mischief in her voice when she spoke. “A young goddess is complaining to a middle-aged, mortal woman that life isn’t fair? Do you hear yourself, Giovenith?”

She took a moment to compose herself, resuming her previous gentle tone. “You’re right though: people shouldn’t take advantage of you, or prey on your good nature. It’s wrong. Threatening people is wrong, browbeating people is wrong. What you think and feel should matter. It’s just--” She shook her head: no, that would go in circles.

“Do you know about principled negotiation? Negotiating based on what’s proper, or just, or fair? It’s sometimes touted as an answer to positional negotiation or trying to resolve problems with appeals to strength.”

"Of course I do," Giovenith answered, raising her eyebrow somewhat. "If anything, I've spent most of life here at the building trying to do just that between various people. Maybe too much."

At Amanda's words, she began to loosen her muscles just a bit. It was a small thing but a big help just to hear that, a very simple 'people shouldn't hurt you' — sometimes one just needed that security net in order to fully hear everything else.

Amanda seemed surprised. “'Of course'? Where we're from, the concept wasn't really developed until recently. I didn't learn about it until law school.

“Knowing about it makes this easier. You don't want to be bullied or browbeaten. I hope we can agree that nobody wants to be mistreated. I can deliver on that. I can't quite speak for Sandy, but I'm certain he'd agree. I, and perhaps we, can put that on the table as something we think is fair. I'm not sure you need my help dealing with it, but if you want, I can take your side when you ask for it. Does that sound reasonable to you?

“I can tell you what I want, and I can assure you we think it's fair, since it's how we have to behave when we have power over people. Sandy may feel a bit differently, but I think he'd agree with the outlines. Do you want to hear my proposal?”

Giovenith was a bit concerned and confused at Amanda's surprise at her answer. Either the godling was misunderstanding what the lawyer was talking about or the Belas came from a very disturbing world indeed — 'might doesn't make right' seemed like a pretty old and straightforward principle of society to her. It didn't seem to really matter at this point though, since nothing Amanda said so far seemed out there.

"Sure."

She wasn't sure what to expect from a proposal. As far as she knew, she was already doing everything normally and safely. But then, who knew?

Amanda’s tone became conversational, and she wrapped both hands around one knee as she spoke. “I’ve rarely had power before, just authority. Where I’m from, that’s considered enough that I needed to change what I said, what I did. I was part of Philadelphia’s City Attorney’s office: I was a city criminal prosecutor.

“Parts of being a prosecutor were roles I could put on and take off like changing my clothes. They were for official duties. But a lot of the job was full-time. That’s when I learned to wear a professional mask, to say and do things without revealing what I was thinking. Part of wearing the mask is also what not to say and do. On high profile cases, everything I said or did was subject to scrutiny, even things in conversations I didn’t intend to be public. Some things I had to hide even from Sandy to avoid the possibility of tainting cases.

“And Sandy is just a professor, but he had to learn the same sort of skills. The wrong harsh word could crush an undergrad’s hopes; a bad review of a grad student’s work could end their career.

“Watching one’s own words and actions is a big burden, Giovenith, but it’s one many of us share. That’s what I’m asking asking for: take into account that what you say and do is backed by irresistible force, whether or not you intend to use it.”

Giovenith considered over Amanda's words for a moment. Instinctively she wasn't enthusiastic about the request because of the aforementioned assumptions — but she reminded herself of all the other things Amanda had said, and weighed them objectively.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head. "I can do that. I just want to make it clear though: I will never, ever intentionally hold what I am over someone's head. I know what you've read in the books and all, and I get it, I really do. You can pull me aside if you ever think I'm doing it, but I would hope that you don't assume I'm doing it on purpose, at least now after all this."

Amanda’s mischievous smile returned. “Oh, you can be sure of being pulled aside. If you try to pull rank on us, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

[OOC: Collab with Gio]

[Giovenith]

A rope tightened beneath Dax's feet, which brought him to ground. In a blink, there was a mad rush upon him.

"Meeshmee mee hoo nopo no!!" growled a tiny, angry voice. A flash of green darted past his vision, and soon there was a sharp bite on his hand.

"MEEEEE HAMA WABBA GAMMA!" cried several more voices as blurs of green whipped around Dax in his apartment, knocking over things and swooping in on him with irksome bites and kicks.


Downstairs, a single bunny remained behind to stare up at Claude. It was pure snow white and carried a small trinket in its mouth.

---

I wonder which he would like better, Giovenith thought, rummaging through her bathroom basket. The ribbon, or the teddy clip?

She held up both accessories to her head in front of the mirror, trying to imagine which one would make her look prettiest. She really like the teddy bear one, but maybe the ribbon would be closer to... right? Or, was there something that might be better? She frowned nervously as she looked down in her accessory bag, trying to find something with a little less sparkles, rainbows, and cute animals. Looking up at her natural self didn't bring much confidence either, rubbing a hand thoughtfully at the mop of short hair that made her look like some kind of feral dandelion sprite.

It shouldn't have mattered, she knew that Marcus already thought she was pretty, but it was still hard sometimes. There were so many imposing, flowing, elegant women that currently or had lived in the Building, Giovenith felt like she had to at least try to seem a little special in comparison, at least sometimes. Marcus was already so special to begin with. He'd been away for so long, surely they had to do their best to make things perfect.

Why had he been gone so long, anyway? She'd known from the start that he had a job and traveling to do, but this had been excessive, even for him. Giovenith supposed that on some level she should have been angry... but she couldn't bring herself to be. It wasn't the same as with other absent partners, Marcus was selfless and gold-hearted, he would never abandon her if he could help it. So she just had to be understanding. And what better way to be understanding than to look her very best? And perhaps she finally found the way! She cheered as she held up a can of glitter hairspray — simple, yet bold!

There was a knocking at the door as soon as she had started to apply it.

"Geo-puzzle?" Willow said on the other side. "You're taking a while in there, we should hurry up."

He was right, and Giovenith didn't want him to be suspicious. But she wasn't even done with her hair! She couldn't bring it either, since she had opted for a rare different outfit for the occasion, and only her main dress had hammerspace pockets. She sighed and opened the door.

"Nice hair," Willow remarked, smiling. "Nice to see you're doing self-care."

"Yeeeeeah..." Giovenith shifted her head side to side, trying to glimpse upward at the effect. She noticed that her roommate had his saddlebag with him. "What are you bringing?"

"Just our sketchbooks."

"Do you think you could hold this can for me?" she offered the hairspray. "It's temporary, and I might need a little more."

Willow smiled again and stuffed the can. He didn't question his roommate's newfound interest in her appearance — he saw it as a good thing, using her personal upkeep to seize the day. "Will do."

They got ready for the snow day. Giovenith wasn't sure what her exact plan would be, but she planned to hang out with Willow for a little while before saying she was tired and making off. Surely he wouldn't be offended by that. It was all going to work out. They made their way outside into the snow, marveling at all the colors. Giovenith bent down to scoop up a bit of the snow with her mittened hand, considered, and tasted it.

"It tastes like Skittles!" she cheered. She promptly got on her knees and began to gladly gobble a good helping of snow.

Willow, for his part, noticed the nearby Amanda Bela. Considering for a second, he made his way over to her, keeping a respectful distance.

"Hey," he greeted. "I heard things turned out pretty alright the other day."

[Monfrox]

The Holodeck

The first thing you usually pick up in the Army is how to respond to getting yelled at. Then how to filter through all the things being yelled at you to do what you need to. The Army also taught rather invaluable skills, and one in particular that Brit had been on her way to mastering during her late nights: The ability to sleep anywhere at any time. Even with the sun out, Brit's consciousness had faded just enough to slip into some dreamland between here and there. That was, of course, until a voice roused her out of it. She groaned in response. Each groan being louder and more annoyed than the last, until she sat up. She rubbed her eyes under her helmet and looked to whoever was there. Her brain registered Sandy's presence but perhaps not the immediate reason to his presence. She looked down at her watch through eyes that could be forgiven for being thought closed.

"56 minutes..." She said, her voice sounding like she looked. "I've been alseep for 56 minutes. And just one dream..."

She looked back up at Sandy, the angle of her sight forcing the upper eyelids to be visibly open now.

"What is it?"