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

[Primordial Luxa]

On the list of things Kei wasn't expecting to run into right as she opened her door, a rambling Primordial wasn't really something she'd considered to put on said list. Her detailed and mature face softened for a moment, her lips pursing into a slight chuckle at the nigh-incomprehensible ranting of the Luxan. "Well, the way I see it, I suppose . . ." She started, trying to formulate something to say. She didn't know too much about the city's plans to try and contain the abhumans, and the underlying issues that lead to the resentment in the first place.

Sighing, she followed the rather-tipsy man and looked down through the window, almost excited to see this much activity on the streets. "As long as they're happy with what they've done. There's really nothing we can do to stop them, and I wouldn't want to considering the party that seems to be forming down there."

The Goddess shook her head, unable to agree with Primordial's strangely-placed rage. "I might even head down there to join them, to be honest. I appreciate a good time."

Primordial frowned in a sullen manner his melancholy returning at Kei’s words. “It’s about principles. They think they’ve succeeded when in reality all they’ve done is prove to their enemy that they will play by their rules. The insects will make another ballot, and another and another until eventual it works. They will never stop because they know no matter how bad they treat them or how much they threaten them they wont resort to violence based on some tired old belief in justice.” Primordial said walking back towards Kei and fidgeting with his face. He pulled at his hair and ran his hand over his lower jaw as he thought about how they were all going to die.

“They still cling to morals and ethics. They would rather risk annihilation than have to get their hands dirty. Rather than just kill all the mundane’s they want to argue the point of whether their slavery is justifiable. If I thought I was subject to it I would have wipe out their population already. I just dont see how they can celebrate when they've just guaranteed their deaths."

[The BranRiech]

It wasn't too long of a walk; living on the second floor meant that Torii could quickly get downstairs, and it was only the turn around a corner and a few feet down the hallway to the lobby. "Maybe it's continuing the festival? seven o'clock is early.", She shrugged. Maybe they'd check the TV in the lobby....

She led her friend over to get a little look. Her heart was pounding. She wanted her friends to all be okay.

"Wasn't there supposed to be a vote tonight too?" Drova asked, recounting his memory of boredly listening to Yuna relay some of her knowledge to him. It was why he wasn't even at any of the meetings to begin with. He knew his sister would attend and relay the information back to him. He knew enough about 13 to know that it wasn't going to be good for anyone, and he at least remembered the date it was to come to vote. "I suppose we shall find out one way or the other."

As the two walked by the desk, and the stairs leading down to the Nikanor's bomb shelter, they could already see the crowds in the streets, celebrating happily.

--

"It's really up to them whether or not they consider everyone their enemy." Kei shrugged, at least sober enough to reason that much. "I've been around for thousands of years, long enough to know that someone's not your enemy because they're different from you. I'm abhuman, but yet I don't see mortal humans as an enemy, because I have nothing to fear from them really." Her head shook, disagreeingly with Primordial's seething anger.

[Fvaarniimar]

"I'm lucky it was just that. If the knife had stuck into my head, I might've been killed. Man...how embarrassing. You know, that'd be kinda funny to go up to Saint Peter so he could be like "Well, my dear child, how did you die?" and I'd say "I fell on a knife". I'm sure that'd be one to just keep to myself..."

Brit began putting the Neosporen on her cut, to which she dried her teeth as she did it when the pain hit her.

"Okay...that's done...now to wrap it."

The blood on her hands had already dried, making it a bit weird to work around. She grabbed the sterile pressure bandage and unwrapped it. She put it to her cut and then secured it by wrapping a roll of gauze tightly around her head, tucking the loose end in to keep it from coming out.

"Okay...I should be good for a while..." He voice was still shaky and she was jittery from shock. "And now to change my shirt so people don't freak out about the blood on it!"

She walked out and quickly tossed her shirt off to replace it with a different one. Somehow, a new shirt with an early American B-17 on it had made it's way into her drawer. Oh well, it looked cool enough for her, so she slipped it on.

"Well, that's about enough excitement for one day...I'm hungry. You hungry? I'M hungry." She said to Nick as she came back to the bathroom to wash her hands and face.

<I think there are probably worse/more embarrassing ways to die. You could...oh, try to take a selfie with a poisonous snake? I think someone did that...> Nick couldn't say quite where he had heard about it, or when. <At least the knife thing wasn't intentional stupidity, right?>

The gauze... Oh, the gauze. It was a big fat string fluttering in the air, and keeping his paws planted on Brit's back was quite counterintuitive to the poor cat, but he managed to get through it with only a few twitches of muscles. Unfortunately some of those muscles were attached to claws; the girl would have felt more pressure at a few small points, although her skin would not have been broken.

After Brit had changed, the cat had something else to add. If I - "If I tried to use a knife, I'd probably slip too." Normally a person would have laughed or at least grinned, so Nick tried. In a monotone, the collar said, "Ha ha ha." Okay, that sounded wrong. Grateful for the change of subject provided by her mention of food, he replied, "I had a lot of food - maybe a little snack." Eating as he pleased was quite a luxury - sometimes the former alley cat wondered if he ever would get used to it.

[Torsiedelle]

"Remember? People were voting earlier. I can't vote, though. Anyways, let's see the news.", Torii said. She leaned against the reception counter and listened intently to the news people. Every few seconds, she shift around and lean in to catch more of what was being said.

"The bill got shot down, but it was way too close of a race.", She mumbled. "That's still bad. You can't have division that great and not expect trouble, Drova.", She looked back at her friend. She looked worried, but also relieved and happy. "Looks like I don't have to worry about not seeing you guys for a while. I guess that's why everyone is celebrating.", she chuckled. "It's a good night, at least."

She blushed a little. Did Drova know she cared that much about everyone? She was supposed to be the tough one...okay, well, she was the tough one, even if she was touchy-feelly. She was like that. "Anyways.", She tried to wave the awkward air away, feeling like just standing and talking about the election wasn't a good use of time. She nodded to the doorway. "What do you wanna do? Go outside and party, or maybe find a nice quiet place out back? We also have the pool."

[Tiltjuice]

"All the more that we should rejoice while we can. Like Giovenith said, there's still a long way ahead," Dora said, her gaze curiously intent as it rested on Sandy. The applause and colorful streamers still roiled in every possible direction, though the closing notes of Bielefeld's national anthem had sounded not long before.

She took a moment to glance at Brother Adrastus. The Archimandrite cut an imposing figure in his robes, and suddenly she understood as she turned to Giovenith and Marcus, red hair flying out wildly. Her mouth opened as she began to say something, but closed again. The godling and the cyborg were right, in that moment, but as usual Dora left her sentiments unvoiced. She stepped back half a pace, sharing a lazy, gentle gray glance with Giovenith, and smiled.

[Swith Witherward]

"Actually," came a gentle voice behind Primordial and Kei, "there's a reason why the abhumans remained passive. It wasn't because of some belief in justice."

John the cultist finished stuffing the note under Velocidoctor's door. He rose and tilted his head as he observed the pair standing in front of him. "The problem with living in bubble worlds is that you make assumptions based on what you think you see on the outside of your bubble. If you never leave it, you'll never see with clarity. And if you leave it, you won't understand the clarity you're seeing because you've lost your personal perspective."

He shrugged. It wasn't his business anyway, and he was already late for the next errand; Yuna couldn't sit by the toilet forever. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and walked into a shadow.

---

Scel folded her claws and closed two sets of eyes, keeping the third pair on Buttons. The smaller exo was busily chewing her hind joint, the massive limb lifted high as she wrapped her mouth around her knee. Arthritis was a bitch, as Scel knew all too well, and so she spared her sister-same the dressing down that usually followed such uncouth behavior.

"So what's the order of battle now? And the next phase? Do we know?" Buttons ran her tongue over her kneecap.

Her companion lapsed into silence as she considered the questions. The government was in upheaval, that much was certain. Forces had made a move and been thwarted, and now all the enemy's carefully laid plans flapped in tatters. They would most likely withdraw for a time. It would be the logical thing to do, Scel thought to herself. After all, the enemy hadn't fully exposed itself yet. With no reveal, there was no identification. They could slither back to their rocks and lairs and no one would be the wiser. They had accomplished only one thing: they had forced the Underground to expose itself instead, and had thinned Chaos' ranks. There was a vacuum - no, a niche - in need of filling.

Scel opened her eyes and gazed at the park across the bay. Septimus began his speech and both exos' ears swiveled to listen.

"He's more talkative than the one in the vat," Buttons lowered her leg and squinted at Septimus. "By the way, what are we going to do with the dead one?"

"Revive him eventually," Scel replied.

"You certainly dedicate much of your time to staring at him. Why? What's so important about Titus?"

It was an accurate observation, although Scel didn't find that the dead man held any particular importance other than being human and from the same world as Septimus. Beyond that, the two probably shared little in common. Septimus seemed shy and hesitant while the Übermensch behind the glass maintained a potent physical presence even in death. Titus could have subdued the mother targ. He might not have succumbed to a rogue processor. Why then did the little pilot daydream about Septimus so often when the Übermensch was her peer. "There is obviously nothing important about Titus."

"You're smiling," Buttons sighed and rolled onto her back to stare at the darkening sky. "Primariam aren't supposed to. "

"Fishbones to that!" Scel snorted, still smiling as she flopped over to mimic Button's carefree sprawl.

---

Neste captured a few strands of stray hair and tucked them back into place. Had to keep up appearances and all. But did she? Did any of them? She sought out Septimus and found him near the food tables. Normally her role would be to ghost her primary but never approach him unless called for. But Septimus wasn't some boring or stuffy ambassador. He was smiling and chatting freely with the citizens around him, very much a man who was down to earth. He could have behaved like a pompous ass. He didn't. Even his speech to the crowd had been simply phrased and from the heart. And they sensed the sincerity.

She scanned the crowd again, looking for signs of trouble but finding only Minerva's strategically placed Lads keeping the area secure. Her shoulders relaxed and she allowed her attention to drift towards the interesting structures scattered around her. The lights that kept vigil along the memorial wall flickered to life as the world around them darkened. Glittering water droplets sprayed from the fountain. The statues, now illuminated from hidden lights at their bases, seemed to take on a life of their own.

The human construct's head tipped back as her gaze glided up the giraffe statue's graceful neck. Its tongue raspberried the early evening stars. "Fishbones," the construct smiled, articulating the giraffe's sentiments to the varied aliens living amongst the twinkling lights. Sometimes the best thing to be was to be yourself, and she dearly wished she could walk in her primary form. Perhaps it was time to disregard Mr. Bodkins' persistent paranoia? It was something to ask Minerva about.

She crossed the small plaza and joined Septimus at the tables, though he hadn't summoned her. Her specialized olfactory bulbs easily picked up the scent of his bath soap as well as his natural odor, and she found herself wondering if he'd care to spend the evening curled up with her. She had promised him breakfast, after all. The thought made her smile.

"Very nice speech, Septimus," there was pride in her voice as her hand came to rest on his shoulder.


Minerva had extracted herself from a throng of well-wishers and revelers, and had taken up position by a cotton candy cart. She appeared to be holding a conversation with a bag of particularly bright pink sugar, her head nodding or shaking to indicate her answers. Her lips curled into a smile as the conversation ended.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Velocidoctor picked up the note and sniffed it suspiciously before he opened it up. He sat beside a stack of newspapers next to a chalkboard with an analysis of the door to the Von Eldritch's place to read it.

Meanwhile, Neil lowered the alertness level with the confirmed failing of Prop 13, allowing the sleeper agents to come out of deep cover and into regular cover. Some of them even joined the festivities under their normal human guises.

[The BranRiech]

"Remember? People were voting earlier. I can't vote, though. Anyways, let's see the news.", Torii said. She leaned against the reception counter and listened intently to the news people. Every few seconds, she shift around and lean in to catch more of what was being said.

"The bill got shot down, but it was way too close of a race.", She mumbled. "That's still bad. You can't have division that great and not expect trouble, Drova.", She looked back at her friend. She looked worried, but also relieved and happy. "Looks like I don't have to worry about not seeing you guys for a while. I guess that's why everyone is celebrating.", she chuckled. "It's a good night, at least."

She blushed a little. Did Drova know she cared that much about everyone? She was supposed to be the tough one...okay, well, she was the tough one, even if she was touchy-feelly. She was like that. "Anyways.", She tried to wave the awkward air away, feeling like just standing and talking about the election wasn't a good use of time. She nodded to the doorway. "What do you wanna do? Go outside and party, or maybe find a nice quiet place out back? We also have the pool."

"But at least they won the vote." Drova sighed. He still hadn't stopped to consider that he was among his abhuman comrades. To a human, they were all different and weird. Of course, Drova didn't see it that way. He was a proud young man, and everyone else was simply different and weird. "That's probably what the celebrations are for then, want to go outside and see? We'll probably find a few of our friends in that mix anyways." He nodded, offering his hand, eying Torii's. If only she was a Pyersai. He repeated to himself in his head, sighing to himself.

--

Kei, still looking at Primordial, was actually quite shocked that someone had managed to sneak up on her. She was about to turn around and question the man, when she figured he must be a cultist of some kind. Her slightly perturbed expression returned to it's more neutral state, and she resigned her idle hands to twirling a bit of her bright orange hair. His words made sense, bouncing around in Kei's vast conscience.

Her mouth opened, and she was about to speak when she noticed he was gone; vanished into nothing but a shadow. It'd been a while, and she nearly forgot their rather crafty ways of traveling around. "Well . . ." Kei wheeled back around, facing Primordial once more. "He said it better than I could have, but maybe we can agree to disagree."

She looked back, out the window.

"Want to grab a drink?"

[Primordial Luxa]

Kei, still looking at Primordial, was actually quite shocked that someone had managed to sneak up on her. She was about to turn around and question the man, when she figured he must be a cultist of some kind. Her slightly perturbed expression returned to it's more neutral state, and she resigned her idle hands to twirling a bit of her bright orange hair. His words made sense, bouncing around in Kei's vast conscience.

Her mouth opened, and she was about to speak when she noticed he was gone; vanished into nothing but a shadow. It'd been a while, and she nearly forgot their rather crafty ways of traveling around. "Well . . ." Kei wheeled back around, facing Primordial once more. "He said it better than I could have, but maybe we can agree to disagree."

She looked back, out the window.

"Want to grab a drink?"

Primordial gave John an odd look that expressed the fact that he didn't think his statement changed the validity of his fears and hopes. It was simple in Primordial's eyes if ants threaten you then their is no adequate reason to tolerate their existence anymore. It didn't matter if he could see things from the point of view of ants or if they had a valid reason for their threats. This point of thinking was very out of character for Primordial typically but since his time in the Mad DEiMOS he had resolved to reaffirm his faith and his ideology. A large part of that was the understanding of the insignificance of humans and their various by-products and alternatives.

It was because of that that he replied "Yes". It was a response both to disagreeing and to getting a drink. However Primordial sent a section of his brain to work on how to deal with the problem of future ballots.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked Kei. His respect for her and her existence was slight more than most other residents of the building but he still considered her an Other God which worried him significantly.

[Northwest Slobovia]

The Building, Lobby

"Remember? People were voting earlier. I can't vote, though. Anyways, let's see the news.", Torii said. She leaned against the reception counter and listened intently to the news people. Every few seconds, she shift around and lean in to catch more of what was being said.[...]

"But at least they won the vote." Drova sighed. He still hadn't stopped to consider that he was among his abhuman comrades. To a human, they were all different and weird. Of course, Drova didn't see it that way. He was a proud young man, and everyone else was simply different and weird. "That's probably what the celebrations are for then, want to go outside and see? We'll probably find a few of our friends in that mix anyways."

Amanda watched the teens at the desk, amazed that they didn't notice her. What was that word Ocho used? "Oblivious"? "Obtuse". It might do; they certainly seem more interested in each other than anything else. Still, if was so all-fired important for the Residents to be aware of the larger supernatural community, Ocho or Minerva could have mentioned the Underworld Times at the Residents' Meeting.

Amanda waited for the teens to leave, and then checked for a copy of the paper. Yup, there it was. She wanted to find out directly what the supers thought of the rest of the world and what they wanted from it. It was all right and good for her to believe the only sensible path was equality, but if all they wanted was legal personhood, who was she to gainsay them? Sandy would, if they would accept him. And Giovenith? It seemed to her a likely guess she'd want equality as well.

Amanda decided that she really didn't want to see their apartment if it had been left empty, sent Sandy a terse message, then settled down to read the paper. It might distract her from the rest of her day.

Observatory

"All the more that we should rejoice while we can. Like Giovenith said, there's still a long way ahead," Dora said, her gaze curiously intent as it rested on Sandy.

Sandy wondered what her long stare meant, but couldn't figure it out; if she wanted to talk, she could talk. Fortunately, Dora chose to favor Giovenith next, and he gently slipped out of her grasp. "Indeed, a little celebration couldn't hurt." He turned to Adrastus, with a bit a sheepish look "I, um... took a little liberty myself and conjured something suitable for toasting. I hope you don't mind." Adrastus shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all." Sandy sighed with relief; he'd leapt without looking: back home, that was a serious breach of protocol.

Sandy was about to pick up a pair of champagne-filled glasses when his phone chimed. "Excuse me for a second", he said, pulling out his phone and reading the message from Amanda. All it said was "at home".

His brow furrowed with concern. Uh-oh. Why wasn't Amanda at the rally? Another rude encounter with Itum? Better go get her. Sandy addressed the group near him. "You'll have to excuse me for a little longer than that. I need to pick up Amanda now. I'll be about an hour. Help yourself to the champagne; if there's interest, I'll make a little more before I leave." Then to Marcus and Giovenith: "I um, may need to give you both a raincheck. Tomorrow, I promise." He flashed them a smile; he'd rather do it now, but he had the jeep, and Amanda didn't know where they were going to spend the night anyway. Sandy glanced down at the floor while considering something, then spoke to Adrastus: "Could I get a word with you? A question about what's permitted here."

[Highfort]

"Thank you, I tried my best," Septimus turned to offer a beaming smile after speaking in praise of the food and drink provided by the mildly-awed onlookers who hadn't expected their representative to be there, in the flesh. He supposed that gravitas and the personal touch wasn't something found very often in Terran politics, but he found that a few smiles and saccharine words helped smooth out relations with commoners in the long run. Not that he didn't like his constituents, but he was never a huge fan of being intimate in crowds. The pulpit was his proper place and being too personal with people was just something that came with the territory of a politician.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my good friend, Neste Trilb," Septimus raised his arms in mock-presentation as he gestured at the construct in human form, "Now if you'll excuse me, the punch was delicious but I really should be moving on. Plenty of people who's opinions I need to gauge and all that, thank you so much for your time."

Nods and whispers accompanied him turning to usher Neste toward a more private area of the park, where residents and citizens alike had set blankets and taken their paper and plastic plates of food to enjoy the evening under the stars. Offering quiet hellos and waves to those who recognized him in the dim moonlight of the evening, he settled his back upon a tree trunk before inviting Neste to lean against him as he stared up at the stars.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he ventured, raising a hand to point out one of the constellations he remembered from the dusty ancient tomes of Terran astronomy and astrology, a pseudoscience he took a passing interest in in his spare time, "And with Thirteen out of the way, a bit easier to admire. No more dagger to our throat - merely to our back, now, but we'll deal with that in due time - and an evening of revelry to celebrate. If I didn't know any better, I would say whatever Terran gods there are have blessed us today. Or perhaps they have, across in their own little worlds, staring down at us. The Underworld was a bit of an eye-opener, you know, knowing that the supers took an interest in our affairs beyond laughing at our miserable little fuck-ups. Would be an honor to meet one, a real god, just to see what they're like. Probably as flawed as we are, if my intuition speaks correctly."

"Neste, forgive my impertinence, Ocho mentioned there only being two ways of freeing a construct from servitude," he asked suddenly, his gaze moving from scanning the sky to focusing on her, "He said one was death, quite obviously. What is the other? What must be done for you to be free? You deserve freedom, I hope you know that."

[Swith Witherward]

Marcus' ears tinged pink for Giovenith's sake as the godling concealed her face with her sleeve. The action was endearing. He hadn't much time to dwell on it before being handed a drink by Sandy, and a promise that they'd have a raincheck on the food experiment. While he was sad to see the older adult go, it was kind of a relief. It left just Dora, and she was kinda intimidating. Elders expected you to act a certain way and-

OOF!

A metallic arm descended upon his shoulders and he found himself pulled into Adrastus' side. "Don't look so vanilla, boy," the priest boomed.

Marcus didn't have the heart to tell him that his (ab)use of slang was way off. Actually, it was kinda nice to see this quirky side of his mentor and superior, especially as the man instilled fear and caused nervous fits in nearly every novice to ever cross his path. The younger man gave Adrastus a curt nod, and then his shoulder was released and he was thrust towards Giovenith again.

"Go, take the time to celebrate, both of you," Adrastus wagged a finger at the pair. "We'll raise the alarm if healers are needed before the night is through."

Marcus didn't need to be told twice. He bid goodbye to Dora and then latched onto Giovenith's hand, intertwining his fingers with her own.

"Come with me," he prompted, eyes twinkling as inspiration struck. The rooftop stairs weren't too far away. Just down the hallway. "I want to show you the city as you've never seen it."

---

Neste's eyes widened at her grand introduction, but she fell back on her training to offer a graceful bow of her head and blink of her eyes in acknowledgment. She would have perhaps said something (hopefully witty!) had she not found herself swept from the throng. It was a relief, in fact.

The human construct settled onto the grass and into Septimus' warmth. Fingertips brushed aside unruly bangs in order to better watch the ships sailing on the horizon, but it was his gesture and not the scenery's beauty that stirred her soul. This was his moment to shine; he chose to share it quietly with her. She had never loved him more than at that moment, and she realized with a happy sigh that she would love him even more the next day, and all the days following that. Neste closed her eyes and set her hand on his knee, lazily caressing the cap with her fingertips as he pointed out a constellation.

"You've met two gods," she softly mused. "Giovenith is a godling. She's so sweet. Thaddeus' ex wife is a god. Oh, wait, you've met Klaus, too. And you saw Fritz."

His statement caught her off guard, however. Neste sat up and turned to better study his face, and she found sincerity there. The human construct place a hand to her chest to still her heart. No, he's unfamiliar with witherward law. He's simply asking how one is freed, not asking to free.

A blush rose to her cheeks nonetheless and, suddenly shy, Neste found herself stammering and babbling. "I, er, someone would need to file a... well? You see, I'm property of the government unless someone can prove I'm otherwise."

Her hands fluttered in the air uselessly. "To do that, they would need to give a good reason for me to not be in circulation. And since that reason most likely won't come up, or would be an awkward subject, because you see... and, well? It's complicated and I know you're not offering to remedy it, and might not want to be, so..."

Neste snorted at her emotional hurdle. "Scel can explain it better."

[Highfort]

"All gods, eh?" Septimus raised an eyebrow as the construct beside him name-dropped several familiar faces, "Hm, as I suspected, very human. Or perhaps we are just like them, in their image, as the Christians would say. Humbling indeed, to know that I have walked alongside gods."

Neste's second response elicited more displeased reaction. The cyborg's eyes narrowed as Neste confirmed what he already knew to be an odious flaw in Swithwardian government: constructs were government property until someone proved otherwise - most likely difficult given that the biological technology to, well, construct them would most likely be expensive and thus they would be precious assets to their government. Slavery was what it was and he was left slightly aghast that such an advanced civilization would have the gall to practice it and cover it up with the same excuses that slave owners had always used - the same ones the thade had mentioned: that slaves were well-fed, educated, given purpose, and protected. The sheer insanity of such a defense caused his eye to twitch slightly as the human construct rambled on.

He put his hands on her shoulders to calm her, "Breathe, Neste, I'm offering to remedy it. I just need to know how, that's all. And if I can't do it then we'll find you someone who can, but please... What awkward subject are you talking about? What reason would not come up?"

Once again the cyborg found himself wishing that his processor was still fully online - disobedient and asinine as it had been over the last week - so that it could help him make sense of things. He pondered what could possibly be awkward to talk about in order to free someone. The processor, for its part, merely hummed in the background and processed data as it had been doing for the past few days, ever since Neste had silenced it by reducing its power supply back on the ship.

He smiled at the memory of bruises and cuts met with kisses and caresses. Truly, if the Board could see him now, they would've called him insane.

"You know what, if it causes you that much distress then we can talk of it another night," he rubbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug, "Tonight we celebrate beating the odds. Thirteen didn't pass, I made it into office, and Bielefelden law about to be shaken up."

He paused, pulling away from the hug to meet her gaze, licking his lips before adding softly, "And I told the most beautiful and caring woman I've ever had the fortune of meeting that I love her. And I showed her that. Tonight is a night for celebration."

[Giovenith]

At first waving off the last hot tingles of her first blush, Giovenith cooled into a comfort as Dora gave her the knowing but easy smile, causing the godling to feel a little more 'at home' with her situation. So, it was slowly starting to get out then after all, huh? Inevitable, she guessed. She just hoped everyone else would be as gentle-handed with the two of them as Dora, and Sandy, and, well she guessed Adrastus too....

The teen jumped a bit and blinked in surprise at the once silent tower of a cyborg playfully teased Marcus, who seemed just as flustered as her, and then encouraged them to go off and celebrate the day's victory on their own. Their own, truly? Away from all others? Marcus confirmed with his request to follow, and Giovenith found herself losing breath for a second. Although they had already been close, it occurred to Giovenith that the two of them had always been around others when with each other, never really truly alone. She felt herself at the edge of that cliff again just like back at the tent, and like then, decided to trust and jump.

"Mhmm!" she nodded with a smile and blush, following the boy and trying to keep her heart from tumbling out.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Sandy fetched the rest of the matching glasses from the cupboard, filled them with conjured champagne, and handed them to whoever seemed interested. He then quick-walked out to his jeep, started it up, and took the tunnel to the Building, parking in the underground garage.

Sandy was confused to discover Amanda's absence from their apartment: she'd said "at home". After a little thinking, he checked the chest of drawers in their bedroom: the alchemetical cures were still there, as was all of Amanda's ammunition and her old gun. She hadn't gone home home, or she would have found them and taken them. Sandy stuffed them into a backpack, and tried the next logical place: the lobby.

Yup, there she was... reading a newspaper? The lady of electronic media reading a newspaper? That was going to require some explanation. Amanda gave it to Sandy at extreme length as he navigated the tunnel back to the Observatory: she'd had many better days, and the legal situation made their worries of a nightmare scenario look tame. Despite having never seen the secret route to their temporary hiding place, Amanda was barely interested in it: the tunnel's mysterious nature was just another strange thing to worry about, and that was the last thing she'd wanted.

Arriving and finally finishing unpacking, the Belas settled down in their quarters for the night.

[Swith Witherward]

Marcus opened the rooftop access door and climbed onto the asphalt shingles. He extended a hand to Giovenith, pulling her up with him. The boy pulled off his hoodie and spread it on the shingles so his companion would have something clean to sit on. For once, he didn’t attempt to hide his augmented arm. She loved him, and that meant she didn’t loathe that part of him.

The entirety of Bielefeld glimmered in the dark in front of them. Twinkling lights seemed pale compared to the fireworks that suddenly erupted over Memorial Park. The pyrotechnics should have faded shortly after explosion, but they grew instead, flaring outward into undying chrysanthemums that hung in the sky to illuminate the ground below.

Marcus rubbed his eyes and blinked, uncertain of what he was seeing.

“Guess who's back, bitches!”

The voice was extremely familiar to him, although he’d never remember hearing it come the morning.

And then the world became a very strange place indeed - the events that followed, like the salutation, would likewise be forgotten...



Fade In...

The seventh time was always the charm, as they say.

As who says? Bah, does it matter. THEY say it and THEY obviously know what they’re talking about. Why else would things have gone so perfectly?

For a seventh time the Residents of 42nd Subabsurdus Street experienced the insanity that was Zalgofest, and the entire town and country experienced it with them.


The city was covered in drunken bodies of various species and culture.. blah blah blah, you know the drill... pandemonium and a lot of things that raise many questions... fifty foot high walls made of panties stolen from Irish virgins... Vaseline coating stairs and halls in the Building as people slid down them and shot right out the front door and onto the roof of Bran’s shop... the pirate ship thang normally attached to the backyard pool now sailing down Main with a bunch of drunken Lads on board...and then there was the usual waterfall of cocaine cascading from the Building’s roof to land in a kiddie pool on the grass below.... And, as always, music blared from some sort of supernatural speaker system.

Surprisingly, most of the chaos (ahem, no pun intended) found its epicenter in Memorial Park. Whether or not it started there or simply migrated as the night dragged on was hard to determine. What was painfully obvious was that the majority of the citizenry had gathered into a drunken clusterfuck of wigged out proportions unimaginable to the sober mind. The buildings and walls lining one side of it were covered in writing and symbols, the insane ramblings of a mad man about some entity called "Zalgo".


In the Building’s front yard, Neil and Gretta were passed out drunk and tied to a ship's anchor, the chain from the anchor led up to a Manila galleon with no sails or masts but a gas-filled balloon and Jet engines on the sides. The three Raptor children Swift, Jenny, and Robert helmed the ship in the sky while dressed in buccaneer attire.

Edge was dressed in a T-rex hoodie, reenacting Jurassic Park out back. Katya sat nearby, surrounded by empty booze bottles and cocaine, laughing and carrying on a conversation, believing that she was actually talking to one of the raptors.

A rather drunk Kwa'a was seated on the edge of the Building's pool, toes splashing in the water as she tried to drown her sorrows in a bottle of dried oregano. Bran sat across the water from her, a bottle of parsley clutched in his hands.

Amanda and Sandy were nowhere to be found, but a Do not disturb sign was posted on their apartment door.

Rmwtyliin, exhausted, was using a yellow plush unicorn to pound frantically on the door to 8A; a temporary tattoo of a still life adorned her back.


Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city...

Nick, dyed fluorescent orange, was riding a heavily-decorated trolley up and down the Market District, happily meowing incessantly from atop someone's bouffant hairdo. That someone was Brit. Her hair had been dyed a shocking shade of blue, but the temporary color was quickly rubbing off on the hapless cat, making him look like a poster pet for the Denver Broncos.

A fierce battle was being waged at the park entrance. Chrys, Hans, Mezran and Tavana struck with fury, eager to defeat the wacky, waving, inflatable, arm-flailing tubemen lined up in front of them.

Nearby, Septimus and Neste’s stark naked bodies were plastered with campaign bumper stickers and streamers. Both were stuck to the park’s main fountain. It had been frozen over, and Fritz and Mab - also in the buff - danced atop the ice, weaving a slow circle around the pair in time to a gentle waltz played by the Bielefeld Philharmonic.

Needless to say, the orchestra was also nude and conducted by Lucius. The archangel wore a lumberjack outfit.

Adri found herself suddenly springing back to consciousness with a lampshade on her head, a broken wine glass in one hand and what could only be presumed to be a piece of raw cat in the other. The priestess stood in front of the podium occupied by Septimus earlier in the evening. It had been pulled back from the stage’s edge enough to allow two people to stand in front of it.

Those two people were Drova and Torii. The girl was holding a bridal bouquet which, upon closer inspection, was nothing but beer bottle labels curling into the shapes of roses. The pair were locked in a passionate kiss, and both wore plastic rings on their fingers. Kelly and Flint were pelting them with rice.

Jasmine was meditating on top of a street lamp. She had no recollection of how she got on the street lamp, and was surprisingly not troubled by the fact as she shrugged and continued to watch the passersby below her with curiosity. In fact, it was Minerva and Klaus that had put her there. They rode down Main in their invisible car, loudly honking an inaudible horn at passersby.

The Luxans were passed out covered in jet fuel next to a dozen dug up coffins filled with marshmallow peeps. The peeps were chirping a ballad written by Kei, who sat beside them singing off-key.

Nearby, Willow was surrounded by stacks of cash, a modern statue, and a beatnik. The beatnik might have been Rudolf, or it might have been an actual beatnik. It was impossible to tell.

Velocidoctor was throwing bananas and wearing a tie around his head. Superbia trailed behind him, sweeping up the peels and putting them on his head. He had quite the collection going.

John and Yuna pushed Sentia along in baby carriage. The cat, dressed in an infant’s jumper, was scowling as only a disturbed cat can.

Ocho and Nila stumbled from the bushes. It was uncertain what they had been doing but it was likely that it was raunchy enough to make even Drones vomit their sprockets into pails. In fact, FUBAR had.

Way out across the bay, two exos stared at the constellations above them, silently wondering if Zalgofests caused dain bramage. Yeah, too much of anything would, wouldn’t it?


And at the Observatory, animated wrought iron Flamingos now dotted the lawn. Hundreds and hundreds of them, courtesy of the drunken tech priests, and they all sung the lyrics to Modern Major General while flapping their little wrought iron wings. Adrastus, Dora and Thaddeus lay amidst them, passed out.

A huge mural adored the entire front of the main building, stretching from ground to roof’s overhang. It depicted the town and her citizens, mundane and abhuman alike, joined together in song and dance. Painted in one corner of the mural, barely perceptible unless one stood right in front of it, two blurry figures reclined in lawn chairs and held their drinks aloft.

Marcus awoke on the Observatory front steps, cradling an exhausted Giovenith in his arms.

[Highfort]

There was a sound of crinkling plastic and wrapping paper as a slumbering cyborg awoke.

The first thing Septimus noticed was how cold his feet and back were. He let out a groan and then a shiver as his eyes opened just a crack and he saw it was the middle of the night, though with the pounding in his head he could hardly tell what exactly was going on. His arms came up to steady himself - but wait, his arms wouldn't move.

"What the-" the cyborg grumbled, shifting back and forth until he realized he'd been wrapped in tape of some sort, looped several dozen times to set a tight seal, and was currently sitting in the center of Memorial Park in the now-frozen fountain. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting of the evening once more and he saw carnage before him.

Septimus' first Zalgofest - though he wouldn't find out until much, much later - was definitely not a small one nor was it for the faint of heart. One of the USiPo heads was dancing alongside what looked to be an odd fairy or godling of some sort, the two of them gracefully circling the cyborg upon the ice as an orchestra played soothing music to time their movements. If he hadn't been sure of what was in the punch, he would've thought that someone had drugged him. Seriously drugged him, maybe even almost killed him, from how things were looking.

The nude orchestra wasn't helping things - and, come to think of it, Septimus looked down and noted with increasing distress that he was nude himself. Luckily enough, any parts that the media could snap photos of to file indecency charges were covered by numerous streamers and stickers - stickers which formed the line of tape that was keeping him attached to the fountain.

What the hell had he done to end up like this. He tried to recall, squinting in the moonlight as he rubbed his chin metaphorically - the fingers performing the rubbing action beneath layers of bumper stickers. He'd made a speech on the podium, yes, then he'd had some punch and gone with Neste to a seclu-

Neste! Thankful that his head was not strapped to the fountain with stickers, the cyborg turned frantically to check if the construct was okay. Relieved, though embarrassed - dark shade of red staining his cheeks - he found her naked as well, a little modesty preserved by the bumper stickers and streamers as she, too, had been tied to the park's fountain.

"Neste! Neste!" he hissed, shaking his head in a futile attempt to ward off the massive headache he was getting, no doubt from the cold that was assaulting his bare butt cheeks and back, "What the hell is going on? Why is everyone losing their minds? What is this?"

He attempted to shift to nudge her awake before noting that several drunk people were hanging from trees. He began questioning if maybe he HAD been drugged and this was just the after-after-afterparty. Damn. Why did he always have to miss fun events like that?

Well, on second thought, there was no way he was drugged. If he was hallucinating, he could think of more crazy things to hallucinate than just waking up with a headache, naked in the park. 2,000 years makes the brain very creative with interpreting past experiences under a new lens, or so he had been taught by one rather odd sociology professor after a major acid trip during a weekend excursion. He shuddered slightly at the memory. Never again.

The strange being and the German policeman made yet another round around the naked couple, their skates just barely scratching the ice as they carefully skirted across the frozen fountain. Septimus gulped. Even that incident with Brutus and the previous Consul hadn't been this weird - and that had featured two miniaturized elephants, a spoon, and six rolls of duct tape.

...

On second thought, that was still weirder. How Brutus had convinced the Consul that elephants would make good butt-plugs if miniaturized, Septimus would never know. He didn't want to know, in fact.

[Warpspace]

-snip-

[Primordial Luxa]

Primordial and the Other Luxans woke up shortly after the climax of Zalgofest and began their usual bout of arguing. Normally it was Insidious complaining to Aegis about who would need to clean up this mess. However this time it was Primordials angry with having to be in this situation which he had specifically tried to avoid. Part of his new zealotry was avoiding making connections with the insects around him whose actions and happiness should no corrupt his own important mission. That was one of the major reason’s he had brought Hollow along. When they had arrived here Primordial had given her specific instructions to keep him away from anything related to Zalgo or anything which could lead to such an event.

Once he had gather his senses and wiped as much of the jet fuel off himself as possible before kicking Hollow awake. She groaned in a mixture of pain and exhaustion, she hated waking up and was known to kill servants who had the unfortunate enough task to rouse her. Thus it was normally up to Primordial to do it and he hated having to account for her incredibly sinful nature. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.” He said when she finally became alert enough to grab his foot. “Look around we’re in the middle of this refuse of a revel.”

She quickly tapped into her Morphogenetic field in order to take on the incredible strength of a silverback gorilla and leapt up ready to strike him. She probably would have if Primordial didn’t pay her wages and if he didn’t give her one of his “I have seen things you can’t even imagine” looks. “And so what you’re going to beat me awake?” Her power was spilling over her physiology not only confined to her strength but creeping into her voice making it sound even more ragged and animalistic than before. “I told you to keep me away from situations like this. It is paramount to my survival and you let me get closer to impurity.” He said “So what you want me to be your mommy watching out for you and making sure you don’t party to hard? Give me a break this isn’t what I signed up for and you are much more to blame than I am you bastard.”

“You’re such a useless pieces of trash. This is exactly what you signed up for you do whatever I say because without me your stuck here, without me your poor and without me you have no purpose. When your mom gets here I’m…” “She not my mom you sniveling weasel!” At this Hollow gave a sudden lunge forward and batted Primordial across the park towards the lamp where Jasmine was meditating and he came to a rest in a very painful pile on the ground.

[The BranRiech]

He'd savored every moment. Drova was blissfully unaware of the consequences of his actions, mainly because one couldn't be blamed for the occurrences during Zalgofest. His lips met with Torii's after a wild night of partying and a strange bout of memory-loss. His wings quivered as the early morning air blew over the two of them, in front of the podium on-stage, nearly the center of attention. He barely registered the rice raining down over the couple, pitter-pattering off of his shirt and head. His arms were a little preoccupied, wrapped around the wingless back of Torii. It was a strange feeling to caress a back without a disruptive pair of wings present, but once again, Drova didn't seem to care very much.

With both hands holding her close, he fiddled a little with the ring on his fingers, failing to leave the tender embrace of the girl's kiss.

--

"Isn't she just wonderful?" Yuna cooed, a motherly look on her face as she pushed half of the baby-carriage, leaving John to take up the reigns on the other half. "Imagine sending her off to school in a few years." She sighed dreamily.

[Torsiedelle]

Torii felt so special...

She melted into her partner's arms, embracing their kiss. Her bouquet was the only thing between them, and Torii felt more secure in the boy's arms than she had in a long time. She ignored the rice, instead bubbling over with lovey-dovey thoughts and feeling. Her heart fluttered as she pushed herself closer. He was a good kisser, she thought, and her first boy. That made it even more special. She wanted it to last.

Was this the beginning of their honeymoon? Torii felt like a princess. The rings on their fingers would symbolize something great for them. She just couldn't help but feel like something was very wrong with it all, however....no problem. It was probably just butterflies in her stomach. She guessed that every lucky girl felt that way when they were married.

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

The scene faded into view for the girl. Jasmine heard festivities and laughter. It was such a nice time. Was she on a light pole? That was nice. It seemed as if everything had turned out fine for the lot of them. She felt relieved and at peace.

"No point in disturbing myself. Sometimes, finding yourself on a higher ground can give you a new perspective on things.", She shrugged, observing the group for a moment before closing her eyes again. "It looks like a party when on more than a riot. No worries if I stay a while longer."

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

"Yeah, like that.", Katya sniffled, rubbing her nose. She looked wild, her tie pulled down, her skirt hanging loosely, her blazer and the first few buttons of her shirt unbuttoned...her hair was just as nice as ever. It was always flared out a bit. She looked energized, too, as she talked to Edge.

"I'm telling you, Raptor, I've never seen you around here before, but I gotta say, I like you more than the neighbors. You got a certain style...I don't know what it is. Sometimes, it's good not to know, everyone has a style, I have a style. What am I talking about, you ask?", She stood up, wide eyed. She flared up into a fit of anger. "I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, but that's what it's all about, Dino-man!", She yelled. Not even a moment after, she mellowed out and chuckled. "You see, life is confusing, and you gotta take initiative sometimes to see the money. That's why I'm taking it up a notch, taking risks. All the great men of the '80's did this stuff. Trust me, it's great.", She said, fixing another line of cocaine. "That's why you're here, you raptors have a vision, and I have a vision! You NEED a vision! Do you get what I'm saying?"

She watched Edge as the girl danced around for a moment, and growled. "Yeah, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That's good."

[The BranRiech]

Torii felt so special...

She melted into her partner's arms, embracing their kiss. Her bouquet was the only thing between them, and Torii felt more secure in the boy's arms than she had in a long time. She ignored the rice, instead bubbling over with lovey-dovey thoughts and feeling. Her heart fluttered as she pushed herself closer. He was a good kisser, she thought, and her first boy. That made it even more special. She wanted it to last.

Was this the beginning of their honeymoon? Torii felt like a princess. The rings on their fingers would symbolize something great for them. She just couldn't help but feel like something was very wrong with it all, however....no problem. It was probably just butterflies in her stomach. She guessed that every lucky girl felt that way when they were married.

While Drova had considered allowing their tongues to linger together, being the gentleman, he simply kept them together in a kiss of the lips. With a light sigh, the boy broke the intimate contact with the simple human girl. He had to admit to himself, that he'd definitely fallen for Torii. His memories of the past several hours were fuzzy at best, but he still didn't care too much. Torii was far more than he'd expected, though he'd fallen for nearly every part of her.

His cheeks turned a bright red as their lips separated. He'd noticed the people watching them, and also noticed that the two of them had just displayed their affection for the other up on top of a podium for all to see. "Torii . . ." He started, blushing hard by this point.

"I-I didn't want that to end, but . . . We should retire for the night."

[Giovenith]

Willow remembered the Manehattan Underground Rage of '11, partially. It was at a small after party for an art show in a late night cafe, had begun with a debate that used a spoon for some sort of metaphor that currently escaped him. All he knew was that it ended with thirteen paintings symbolically destroyed in defiance of 'The Man,' four ponies shipped to the hospital from a strange overdose on incense burner, Claude Ponet with half his face shaved and a tattoo of Celestia's flank printed on it, and himself with two black eyes likely given by Toola-Roola.

Whatever the fuck happened here in Bielefeld though, that was beyond his cognition.

As he scraped himself from the ground with audible groans, Willow quickly caught on that the surface he'd been passed out on was hard and unusually flat because it was several stacks of bills wrapped together with plastic. This jarred him back into sobriety quicker, snapping his head around him and gawking at the similar piles that surrounded his little area.

"Holy crap, what happened?!" he expressed, touching a hoof to his cheek in shock. "Did I rob a bank or what?!"

Reeling from the display, Willow found his eye shifting upward and catching something else. Towering over the fun-sized lil' horsey was a statue of several large metal cubes stacked on and welded together, forming a tower of sharp ridges and corners. Modern art. Great looking, but what the heck, what was it doing out here among all this money? It was then he noticed he was not alone. Was that somepony from his work circle up in the cities? Well no, they weren't a pony.

"The Rage of '15!" he loudly announced into the sky with exasperation, once again feeling annoyance at the confusion and insanity of this world.

--

Giovenith almost slipped out of Marcus' arms as she instinctively tried to stretch herself awake, scrambling back in short panic when she felt herself slightly falling and then looking around to see what was going on around her. Iron flamingos, singing on the lawn?

Ahhh, Zalgofest. Right.

Feeling more secure now in that knowledge, she gave a sigh and leaned her head back on the cyborg boy. Whatever had happened (she would never know) it had taken all the energy out of her, and she almost felt like continuing to sleep. They couldn't stay here though (well, Giovenith could, but she doubted Marcus was very comfortable on the outdoor steps). Considering for a moment, she reached out a hand and gently laid it on his cheek, then scooted herself so she could more directly speak with him.

"Good morning?" she offered uncertainly, but with a blushing smile. If it was morning it was very early, probably around 4 am, she gauged. "Eh heh, Zalgofest."

[Torsiedelle]

"Hmm? Why?", Torii asked. Things were just getting good, right? Were they?

How long had they been out? It couldn't have been long, but then again, they were kissing on a podium...with a beer label bouquet. She could've swore it wasn't beer labels. That was weird, but then again...

"Was there a party going on?", She asked. "I think I remember..."

"Oh no..."

Yeah...now it was coming back to her. Not the party itself; that was a blur, but the fact that there was a party, and then they ended up in such a bizarre place, and three neighbors were celebrating them, including...oh no, including Flint of all people. The girl who Torii wanted to look at her as tough was celebrating her, well...was it even a marriage? They didn't seem like real rings that the two were wearing, but nevertheless...god, what had happened to them? It was crazy, whatever it was. She still wasn't sure she was thinking straight.

Torii felt her stomach churn. She Felt her entire face flush red; this was embarrassing. "Maybe we should.", She agreed. "I, uh, I think it may be late, and we, uh..."

Oh god, oh God, this was wrong. What had they done? Torii's heart was racing even more, but not in a good way. She let her bouquet fall to the ground beside them so she could stick her hands in her pockets. "That was awkward."

[Swith Witherward]

In this weird twilight between mundane and mystical, nothing seemed too strange to be allowed. Scel and Buttons glided through the bay to emerge on the bank closest to the park. They scaled the (to them) short wall and gained the grassy expanse of the park itself. Buttons parted from her self-sister in order to find Nila, but Scel carried on, bypassing the drunks and the pseudotweakers until she found the frozen fountain and musicians.

The orchestra deflated into disharmony as their heads cleared. Bows and brass lowered, reeds warbled into silence. The musicians looked around them, and at each other, and then at themselves. This wasn't their first Zalgo but, by God, they really wished these things didn't happen to them. They rose and used their instruments for modesty, each shuffling off to catch a trolly or perhaps find a working subway train.

Fritz's feet slowed as the music died. Alas, his was not to question why. He knew his nefarious siblings were behind it, and he wasn't too happy to find himself caught up in it, but any displeasure he had quickly melted as he gazed at the exquisite Fae in his arms. A nude Fae, he reminded himself. Mab's people were still a mystery to him and he couldn't be entirely certain she'd be pleased with her current state.

The avatar focused his mind, drawing his uniform to him, and it materialized on his body just in time to hide his growing appreciation of Mab's form. Fritz removed his jacket and offered it to her with a smile.

"I'm sorry, Mab. While I'm sure we had a lovely time, it really isn't fair to see you in your full glory without your permission."

"At least you don't have my perspective," a clarinet player called out. She had the misfortune of following a rather wrinkly and geriatric bassoonist down the trail. The musicians parted to avoid the exo's front legs as she carefully strode between them.

Neste's eyes fluttered open as Septimus pulled her from her slumber. It was her exo that answered, however. Scel settled directly in front of the cyborg. Grinning and sitting like the world's ugliest dog, she tilted her head to regard his current state.

"Zalgo," she pushed the thought to him at last. "Chaos and god killers throw a party and everyone's invited. The drugs are potent enough to overpower even my systems."

Scel extended a hand with fingers large enough to wrap around his body, but her interest was in the multiple bumper stickers that bound him and her soul to the fountain. She captured a loose corner of one between finger and thumb and, without so much as even a warning, she ripped it off, most likely taking some of the human's belly hair with it.

"Oh bother," she assessed her efforts and the amount of stickers that would need to be pulled if the pair hoped to free themselves. Scel wasn't known for patience when tired however. "Don't flinch."

"Whuh?" Neste's head rolled to the side. "Septimus?"

The exo ignored Neste, and sat up on her haunches instead. She extended her hand again, curling the digits so that only the index finger remained aloft. A talon emerged between the velveted folds of skin crowning it, and she sliced it along his left side before doing the same to the right. She followed suit with a protesting Neste and then latched on to both creatures, lightly tossing them onto her bristly back.

"Son of a bitch," Neste murmured as she fought to clear her head. She gazed down to find the cyborg's name plastered to her breasts.

Scel began to plod from the park and Neste's hands reached down to stabilize her. The cool, nubby reptilian skin and tiny hairlike bristles felt good under her fingertips, and she inhaled Scel's vanilla scent. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate her true outer form before lifting her head to gaze at the human that had suffered - or perhaps reveled - beside her in the Zalgofest. She struggled to recount their evening, but the closest she came was to a time hours before. Neste gulped. The two had sat under the trees and he'd asked- oh my. Let's not go there, girl!

Treetops sailed by them, and it felt to Neste as if she were in a boat serenely coasting through a green river. She inhaled the early morning air and reminded herself that it was good to be alive. Main Street and the Building came into view.

"Are you alright?" Neste's face, softly illuminated by the bioluminescent blue patches of her exo's back, convey sincere worry for Septimus. How well did his people tolerate magical mischief and hard core partying?


Marcus didn't open his eye, but his hand tenderly covered Giovenith's. Whiskers scratched along her palm as he turned his head to kiss her hand. He exhaled a sigh.

"Good morning," his lashes parted just enough to see her silhouetted against the starry sky and green woods in the distance. "I think we were Zalgo'd."

That was an understatement, obviously. They might have flown to the moon to have tea with some Chinese emperor, for all they knew. He was relieved to find them both clothed, and obviously not in some compromising position. Snuggling on the Observatory steps while a bunch of flamingos... holy shit!

The boy's eye opened fully as he realized exactly what he was looking at. His cybernetic eye could make out the forms of both his mentor and his father lying in a sea of wrought iron, singing birds, and Miss Dora was flopped between them. Marcus didn't want to know... he just didn't want to know.

"We should get back to the Building," he suggested as he rose, gently pulling Giovenith up with him. "Or call it a night. Morning? We can-"

Marcus' suggestion died in his throat as he gaped at the mural on the building's facade. Bodies stirred around them as priests woke up to find their beloved home graffitied. The seconds ticked by and then somebody began to clap, and soon everyone was clapping and cheering. Marcus laughed and turned his face to offer Giovenith a bright smile. "I think they like it."

The flamingos silenced and Adrastus abruptly sat up just as the priests began their applause. He remained speechless as he took in Giovenith's handiwork, but there was only joy in his old heart at the sight of something so breathtakingly beautiful.