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

[Torsiedelle]

Ugh, the idea of spending time alone in some foreign place, getting whatever ideas they wanted one to know rammed into their heads, it made Torii shudder. How could those two not go crazy in there? It didn't sound like much of a life at all to her.

"When I, uh, fought, and then afterwards, when I was always being watched in some camp or running off to my dad...by the way, not a prison camp or anything, it was more or less just a place for kids in bad situations, but...anyways, when I was growing up, I would've killed to be able to have my own room, and to go to a regular school and carry on. Instead, I learned some things from older kids and adults, I read to help myself in other areas, and all in between I was outside, walking through the woods or playing in the streams. It wasn't really all that great of a childhood anyways, but I enjoyed what freedom I got.", She said. "No offense, but the way you and your sister were raised sounds like no way to live. I mean, kids need some free time, and some room to play, and they need to have friends around. That's what I believe. Then again, I'm not, like, royalty or anything. I really hope you never have to go home, or Yuna. You guys have everything going for you here."

Torii looked down at the rifle in her hands again, and pointed it up. "Wanna hold it? It's not too heavy, really. This gun is the most produced gun in the world. Over thirty-million of them in the world. They're really popular back home, next to some bolt-action rifles and homemade stuff."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Arthur chuckled a bit at the mention of costs. "Wood into gold? Definitely more legitimate than insider trading using data from the future." He joked about how the Raptors amassed virtually unlimited funds from the stock market. "Cult leaders will definitely come in handy as I'm the only one manning the PR department so far. Mad sociologists are a bit fixated on making things run mazes." he quipped thankfully as he made a turn.

"The building has been used for storage so far for one of our off-site construction projects. We have countermeasures installed and a minor specimen containment system. More space would be useful, especially for the secret labs. We are setting up some labs fit for government inspection and in case we need to be witnessed by anyone not in the know." He commented on the photo of the site. At this moment, minions worked to clean the place up and set up the labs in addition to a press conference room.

"Yes, USiPo is a tough nut to crack and we got little to no data on them. Neil and Gretta are at the park where you had that scuffle, trying to collect data on their tactics. The body is gone, but we got people in the morgues who will alert us if it turns up." He added, alluding to the network of informants and contacts.

"From a man of your stature I wouldn't expect anything less. Equal control of the institute, and we won't plot against you. No backstabs or double crosses, and we expect the same from you. " Arthur agreed as he pulled up to the apartment building and set the car into park behind an ambulance.

"One more thing, Neil will be having talks with that new representative Itrum later today. Making sure he will work in our favor and perhaps getting government contracts in order. If you want in on the formal meeting, I'll tell Neil." He threw in as he turned off the countermeasures and unlocked the door.

---

NVE had dragged the gift wrapped Velocidoctor to the curb in front of the building. He ten loaded him into a black ambulance that had been stripped of logos and had been outfitted with a hodgepodge of sensors on the roof and empty equipment racks inside. He got in the cab and drove off as he dialed the Bielefeld government, asking to schedule a meeting with Representative Itrum on behalf of the newly formed Pilkington Institute this afternoon. He added that he would like if Itrum would come to their new headquarters, claiming that a surprise awaited him.

“Excellent” He said “I’ll start putting my assets in order and begin making my own necessary preparations.”

Primordial scowled at the mention of Hollow and the park. “If Hollow is gone then we have a very serious problem her body could be very dangerous in the wrong hands, she isn’t a real person she’s one of Insidious’s art projects with a very powerful set of abilities. We should dig up the dirt and area surrounding our fight, there’s bound to be some remnants that I can work with, either that or look for blood and tissue samples. She is state of the art anything we can recover we should.”

“I would like to talk to whoever Neil is meeting with.” He said staring off at apartment and exiting the Car “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ll make sure that I have some free time. Thank you Arthur for the lift and the assistance.”

"You're welcome, and try not to make any more scenes." Arthur replied and drove off towards the park to meet Neil and Gretta.

Gretta bagged a few gallons of dirt in hopes of extracting Hollow's blood from it or some brain tissue not cleaned up. She also had dug up the area where the bullet should have been expecting to find it as well. Neil in the meantime had calculated where the sniper's position should have been and was going to sweep the area with his chronoscope. Where had the sniper entered and how did they leave were on his mind.

---

NVE had apparently forgotten to call the Bielefeld government during office hours so he rode around killing time, taking the carpool lane with the paralyzed and gift-wrapped Velocidoctor. He stopped by a Taco Bell and got some tacos, then he dialed back impatiently as he stuffed his face with whatever they called meat.

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick did not yet bother with heading upstairs to Brit's apartment - or, for that matter, his own. From his perspective, the lobby held some comfy furniture; snuggling into the corners where the back of a chair met the seat cushion, the sleepy cat covered his eyes with a foreleg.

(Around seven that morning, he would return to his darkish and quiet apartment, stretch out on the large comfy mattress-like thing in a spot where a pillow blocked the sun, and go back to sleep.)

--

Around dawn, Kwa'a had gone to bed and was sleeping rather soundly; even bizarre dreams were preferable to nightmares. Rmwtyliin, on the other hand, slept rather fitfully; occasionally she opened her eyes to check the amount of light. Even though it had been a long and busy day, the girl had been trying to maintain the custom of rising with the sun... Meaning that she was still in the habit of doing so. However, to spend only a few twenty-fifths of the day asleep after so long awake was too much to ask. Rmwtyliin kept going back to sleep, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky she stopped waking.

[The BranRiech]

Ugh, the idea of spending time alone in some foreign place, getting whatever ideas they wanted one to know rammed into their heads, it made Torii shudder. How could those two not go crazy in there? It didn't sound like much of a life at all to her.

"When I, uh, fought, and then afterwards, when I was always being watched in some camp or running off to my dad...by the way, not a prison camp or anything, it was more or less just a place for kids in bad situations, but...anyways, when I was growing up, I would've killed to be able to have my own room, and to go to a regular school and carry on. Instead, I learned some things from older kids and adults, I read to help myself in other areas, and all in between I was outside, walking through the woods or playing in the streams. It wasn't really all that great of a childhood anyways, but I enjoyed what freedom I got.", She said. "No offense, but the way you and your sister were raised sounds like no way to live. I mean, kids need some free time, and some room to play, and they need to have friends around. That's what I believe. Then again, I'm not, like, royalty or anything. I really hope you never have to go home, or Yuna. You guys have everything going for you here."

Torii looked down at the rifle in her hands again, and pointed it up. "Wanna hold it? It's not too heavy, really. This gun is the most produced gun in the world. Over thirty-million of them in the world. They're really popular back home, next to some bolt-action rifles and homemade stuff."

With a population of a little over 2 million, a Pyersai would be in shock that someone would find the need to build 30 million of anything. Drova looked down at the rifle again, and shook his head, placing his hands in a refusing wave. "Eh, I don't need to hold it." He nodded, mouth opening wide for another yawn. His head shook as he did, and he looked down again. "Well, it wasn't the worst really. I still found ways to have fun and entertain myself. I'm really just grateful for the education I got. I admit, I know not everyone I grew up with had the same opportunities, but I almost wish they did. In a way, our system feels unfair, but it's worked for us as long as I can remember really. My family's been in charge for about . . ." He stopped, doing the math in his head. ". . . Since before we were even sent underground, I think."

[Primordial Luxa]

“Excellent” He said “I’ll start putting my assets in order and begin making my own necessary preparations.”

Primordial scowled at the mention of Hollow and the park. “If Hollow is gone then we have a very serious problem her body could be very dangerous in the wrong hands, she isn’t a real person she’s one of Insidious’s art projects with a very powerful set of abilities. We should dig up the dirt and area surrounding our fight, there’s bound to be some remnants that I can work with, either that or look for blood and tissue samples. She is state of the art anything we can recover we should.”

“I would like to talk to whoever Neil is meeting with.” He said staring off at apartment and exiting the Car “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ll make sure that I have some free time. Thank you Arthur for the lift and the assistance.”

"You're welcome, and try not to make any more scenes." Arthur replied and drove off towards the park to meet Neil and Gretta.

Gretta bagged a few gallons of dirt in hopes of extracting Hollow's blood from it or some brain tissue not cleaned up. She also had dug up the area where the bullet should have been expecting to find it as well. Neil in the meantime had calculated where the sniper's position should have been and was going to sweep the area with his chronoscope. Where had the sniper entered and how did they leave were on his mind.

---

NVE had apparently forgotten to call the Bielefeld government during office hours so he rode around killing time, taking the carpool lane with the paralyzed and gift-wrapped Velocidoctor. He stopped by a Taco Bell and got some tacos, then he dialed back impatiently as he stuffed his face with whatever they called meat.

Primordial nodded and made his way back to the DEiMOS, where he began by sending a long letter regarding the previous events to Aegis and Insidious figuring that they most certainly should know about what had just transpired. In addition he decided that this next step in his plans required a certain level of isolation and familiarity so he issued termination notices to two other Luxans who he had hired to help out and he know realized that would do nothing but waste time and resources further down the line. Neither of them took it well but he gave a more than fair pay out that would cover them until they could find a new job. They were both good aids and most certainly wouldn’t have trouble finding a rich wizard or mythos entity to server.

Afterwards he began sending his various Carns on a variety of missions and goals in preparations for the tasks ahead of him. He assigned one group to collect various gems and jewels from the storage areas in the DEiMOS in order to begin crafting a set of gifts and tools for the various members of this Think Tank. He sent another group out to fetch the most basic and useful tome he could think of, one which he felt safe leaving in another location and which would be necessary for any upcoming operations or procedures.

More Carns were sent off to find Primordials black book which had a list of various interesting individuals which he planned on bringing into the organization. This black book of course was carved onto volcanic rock and hidden behind several barrels of magical soup. After that he gathered together a set of around twenty of his magical artifacts which he thought could prove useful at the institution and had some Carns take the Peep in a Box to this lab for study.

[Torsiedelle]

"Wow, that's a long time.", Torii nodded. "If my history is correct, anyways. So, don't want to hold it? Fine by me."

She got up to put the gun back, and crashed onto the bed. She took the remote and began to look at what the television had to offer. "Hey, my sister isn't home yet.", She said. "Do you plan to go home, or maybe have a sleepover? I have no idea where anyone else is, either, and I hate being alone.", She told him. "I don't mind being alone as much as I used to, but it still bothers me. There's that, and then the, um, thing at the park. I mean, we might want to get a little rest and think on it, or something. I don't know.", She turned over, resting her head on the pillows as she stared at Drova. "I don't think I'm thinking straight right now. I don't know what else to say, or how to react, really. I'm confused. Is this what people are supposed to do when they're in a situation like this?

[Swith Witherward]

Marcus sighed and wrapped his arms around Giovenith, cradling her warmth against him and delighting in the warmth her words generated in his chest. No matter what happened today or tomorrow, they'd get through it because they had each other.

"This is the part where I say something mind blowing and romantic, but sometimes words can't convey properly," he curled his index finger and used it to gently tip Giovenith's chin up in order to kiss her mouth.

Marcus closed his eyes and reflected that it wasn't anything like their kiss in the tent, when everything felt rushed and he was unsure of the world. And it wasn't like the unplanned kiss stolen moments after a political win over oppression. This felt different to him, a tender manifestation of the joy dwelling in his heart. He thought that it would be nice to stand there and kiss her until the sun was fully up; he wouldn't dare push for more with old, cranky Adrastus on the prowl, and his father had already drilled into him that it was the girl's right to ask for more rather than being pressured. Besides, this was magical. Maybe one day they'd do more, but they'd never be able to go back to fully appreciate these innocent, uncertain moments. Marcus - the teen that once dreaded awkward social situations - suddenly found himself embracing them as fondly as he was embracing the wonderful girl before him.

He broke away first in order to pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you so very much, GIovenith."

The noise of rustling robes and footsteps from the chapel beyond the mahogany doors foretold of the worshippers' dismissal. He sighed, but it was a contented sound. Everyone would either go to bed or go to their chores.

"I'll walk you back to your room," he offered. "We've both had one hell of a day. Sleep would be nice."

---

"Good morning, Sentia," Neste chimed as the cat made her needs known.

A quick rummage through the fridge yielded some of the cat's premium food, and the lizard poured it into a bowl and then engaged in a horrid tug of war with the stickers in order to squat low enough to place the meal on the floor. She laughed as the tape lost its grip on her scales, breaking free with a series of silly pops and odd sounds. She paused to scratch under the cat's chin, delighting in the soft fur there, and then cast a wary glance towards the hall and bathroom door. Judging by the sounds, Septimus was rifling through cabinets.

The lizard rose and morphed, increasing her size in a snap before regressing back to normal just as quickly. The blurred motion resulted in a momentary explosion of stickers, the tatters of which floated to the ground just as the cyborg called out to her. She tilted her head and rubbed her nude body to rid it of the residual tingling caused by the sudden cell manipulation.

"What else do I need? A man with a high pain threshold," she laughed. Her imagination flitted towards some of her more unsavory work. She couldn't hurt Septimus for the sake of abusing him, and would refuse to if ever asked by a handler, but she couldn't help but recall some of the memories contained in his book. Mental conditioning was everything, and he just might have the stamina yet to endure an effort to make quick work of sticker removal. She abandoned the cat to her breakfast in order to seek out Septimus and his rubbing alcohol.

The bathroom lighting wasn't flattering and garishly reflected off the stickers, breaking up his outline and making him appear to be armored in some places. She smirked at the situation. Poor man. "Look, Septimus, I don't want to sound cruel, but there's no easy way to do this. The longer they remain, the more the adhesive will bind."

She leaned a shoulder against the door jam, brows knitting together as she chewed her lower lip and tried to find a delicate way to articulate her thoughts. "I can't lie and say that causing pain doesn't bring me joy. Humans release potent endorphins when subjected to pain. But I'm skilled at delivering it, which means I'm also skilled at delivering it in such a way that minimizes the discomfort you'll feel. Do you trust me to help you?"

[The BranRiech]

"Wow, that's a long time.", Torii nodded. "If my history is correct, anyways. So, don't want to hold it? Fine by me."

She got up to put the gun back, and crashed onto the bed. She took the remote and began to look at what the television had to offer. "Hey, my sister isn't home yet.", She said. "Do you plan to go home, or maybe have a sleepover? I have no idea where anyone else is, either, and I hate being alone.", She told him. "I don't mind being alone as much as I used to, but it still bothers me. There's that, and then the, um, thing at the park. I mean, we might want to get a little rest and think on it, or something. I don't know.", She turned over, resting her head on the pillows as she stared at Drova. "I don't think I'm thinking straight right now. I don't know what else to say, or how to react, really. I'm confused. Is this what people are supposed to do when they're in a situation like this?

"I could do whatever you wanted, Torii." Drova nodded loyally. He wasn't about to leave her if she wanted him to stay, definitely not this far in. "Well, I know Yuna's going to give me an earful if she's still awake, and now? I feel too tired to even head back to my own room."

Unthinkable as it was to sleep in someone else's house for a Prince, the idea of spending the dying hours of the night with one of his favored friends overwrote the negative thoughts he was having. Any thoughts of the future, or of the bigger picture were lost to Drova, as the decision seemed to rest on him, whether they shared a bed, or whether he had to stagger tiredly back to his room. "I-I can stay here if I have your permission." He looked over to her, already reclining against the softness of the bed and her pillows. Almost in a perpetual state of blushing, he couldn't also help but admire her form, ever looking nice and snug.

"Is that . . . Is it alright?" He asked hopefully.

[Torsiedelle]

Despite the awkwardness between them, especially after their kiss and little talk, Torii nodded a "yes."

"Sure.", She said. "Long way back to your place anyways, and I'd appreciate the company. Besides, no weird feelings, right? I think we've had a sleepover together. I know me and Yuna did, and Gio..."

She sighed. "If my sister walks in, that'd be funny. I wouldn't fret over it too much. So, what are you waiting for? We can watch a bad movie or listen to music and gossip. So, whadya think about Gio and Marcus, huh?"

[Highfort]

Sentia let out a yelp.

How else does one react to a lizard friend blurring and all the sticky things on her proceeding to fall off? The cat ignored the delicious-smelling cold morsels for a moment to note that Neste was now fully nude and approaching the bathroom. For the cat, that could only mean one thing. She had to make a hasty exit or risk being caught in the middle of copulation. But the food... it smelled so delicious and cold.

She ate. She ate like she had never eaten before, just like how she'd eaten hours after being reconstituted in the teleporter and then forgotten by Titus after the little rendezvous with the press. Septimus had intended to go out for a nice night with Ophelia but, to her luck, had returned to unlock her cage and give her much-needed nourishment. With no breakfast, she'd been starving. That was how she ate in this frantic moment of need.

Food splattered across the kitchen floor, bits and pieces dripping from her open mouth to decorate her paws before being smeared as she gulped down the last of the wet food and scurried out the front door with a slam of the wood on the frame. Evidence of her hasty getaway was left in the form of regular intervals of oil and meat left by her dirtied paws. There was only one place to go at a time like this.

The second floor communal kitchen, with a vent near the oven, beckoned. She skidded down the stairs before making her way through the hall to her abode for the evening.


Septimus froze, bottle of rubbing alcohol in-hand, as Neste appeared in the doorway, her sensuality radiating before him even as she chewed her lip in nervousness. Or perhaps because she chewed her lip. Septimus liked that, liked someone being just as vulnerable as he felt at times. Was it necessarily a bad obsession and fetish? Possibly. But all he knew was that once the stickers came off, he'd be coming onto her on the same bed where they had first coupled.

Perhaps there was such a thing as karma, and he was finally able to cash out.

"Cruel? Hardly. Some people do this for fun, you know," the cyborg offered the construct a flit of a smile before setting the plastic bottle down in the sink, "And you have a man with a high pain threshold. Months of abuse in training does have its benefits, sometimes..."

He stepped forward, the crinkling of plastic and the ripping of adhesive punctuating his steps, to caress her face softly with a stickered hand, plastic and flesh meeting smooth skin as he traced her cheek with a quiet sigh, "I trust that whatever you do will be for the best for both of us, Neste. The question remains: what will you do?"

[Swith Witherward]

Neste met Septimus' eyes as he tenderly traced her cheek. A reticent smile played about her mouth as she considered his question. Her hand sought his own cheek and she considered the varied emotions his face had conveyed since they first met. She recalled his first delighted smile, and his first concerned frown. She cherished the remorseful tears that he shed when faced with his past, and held them as dearly as she did the awkward grins that materialized whenever they'd skirted the possibility of a physical or romantic relationship. She prized that fleeting moment when she'd looked up during their lovemaking to find his nostrils flared and his eyes fastened tight, growling as he endured the deep throes of his petite mort. And now? Now she looked at him and saw trust and curiosity etched in the corners of those eyes. Her ears lowered, lending an almost timid air to her.

She held his gaze and brushed his lips with her thumb before allowing the fingertips to descend down his neck, follow the sweet trail along the proud muscles until touching upon his chest. How much had he endured over the years? The lizard's smile dwindled, absorbed by a concerned pout that remained even as her fingers found purchase on a sticker's edge to roughly yank it from his skin.

[The BranRiech]

Despite the awkwardness between them, especially after their kiss and little talk, Torii nodded a "yes."

"Sure.", She said. "Long way back to your place anyways, and I'd appreciate the company. Besides, no weird feelings, right? I think we've had a sleepover together. I know me and Yuna did, and Gio..."

She sighed. "If my sister walks in, that'd be funny. I wouldn't fret over it too much. So, what are you waiting for? We can watch a bad movie or listen to music and gossip. So, whadya think about Gio and Marcus, huh?"

"The sun looks like it's about to rise, Torii, I think we should just get some sleep at this point." Drova muttered softly, leaning back in the bed, laying on his side facing Torii. "I did have fun today, but we really do need to wrap it up." He nodded, looking into her soft, blue eyes, admiring the curvature of her face. Her stories almost seemed like distant lies to him, to see such a soft and innocent face looking back to him almost made him disbelieve that she'd fought in a war, that she'd killed people, that she had such a troubled life. They were so different, and yet, Drova didn't know whether that was good or bad.

"Goodnight." He murmered, letting himself drift away to the outline of his friend.

[Torsiedelle]

Aw, Torii wanted to maybe talk some more. When the thought about it all, though, Drova was probably right. A little sleep was better than no sleep at all. Hell, maybe they'd even sleep in. That'd be fun.

"Yeah, I guess we should sleep. Good night, I guess, or good morning.", She chuckled. She sat up and looked to make sure the curtain were pulled on the windows, and then laid back down, snuggling up under the sheets and burring her head into her pillows. She wanted to drift off to sleep, thinking about different things, like, when the last time she stayed up this late, or when was the last time a friend slept over? Where was her sister?

She'd just keep answering those questions until she got too sleepy and let herself go.

---

"Why...am I doing this?"

With one, graceful movement, Jasmine leaned back, swung under the top of the pole she was on, and flipped off. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she brushed her hair aside and turned to go home. The sun was coming up. Well, that sucked. She was hoping for at least some sleep. On the upside, certain states of meditation and concentration could do the same job. There was also maybe just coffee. Coffee would work, or a power nap here and there to keep her alert and energized. No use in allowing dawn to pass her by. It was a nice time of day, before the heat rolled in and the sun hung over everything with its blinding light and heat.

Yeah, she'd just go find a more quiet, wooded place out back to relax and rest for a bit. Maybe...that was why she was going towards the building, and not around the sides, right?

Maybe she'd just go to bed anyways. It wasn't as if she had any particular schedule or anything to do. That was both a liberating and depressing thought. Why did she suddenly feel so bland? it must have just been the weird night. She'd work it out soon.

[Giovenith]

Still afraid of getting him in trouble, Giovenith quickly pulled back up the hood (did a good job at concealing her deep blush as well), and with a sparkling smile grabbed hold of Marcus' hand and lead into back into the halls so that he could escort her back to her room. It had indeed been a taxing day and although she was happiest when with him, she figured he had many other important things to do and needed her own rest. She reflected on the kiss on the way there herself; in a way, it had been their first real deliberate kiss, something entirely chosen by will rather than an act based in the overwhelming rush of the moment. By the nature, Giovenith couldn't help but feel a greater weight as a result of it, nothing at all burdensome, but rather a milestone that had once seemed so out of sight (it wasn't more than a year ago that she would have been laughing and insisting no one would ever be such a way with her).

It all felt very serious to her--of course, these things did when you were still as innocent as cookies and butterflies like the godling was. It was still a long way away before the two of them would ever be anything like the grown folks around them, activities and all, but they simply didn't have to be at this point. They just had to focus on the steps of young love for now, and that was enough of an adventure to keep them busy and guessing for quite a while.

"Nighty-morning," she parted with a small laugh, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you too. There's still a lot of work to do, but it will be a new day soon enough. Go out and keep being perfect."

With that Giovenith slipped her hand away and entered her room, giving him a last smile before closing it, packing up the robe, and falling fast asleep on her bed.

[Swith Witherward]

A prolonged and contented sigh escaped Marcus as he leaned on the wall beside Giovenith's closed door. His fatigue was making him feel giddy, as did her parting words, and he would have yelped and danced down the hall but for fearing the wrath of the old priests that were now most certainly on the prowl and looking for bodies to do menial chores. He pushed off the cool stone and folded his hands under his robe sleeves, then departed as if he had someplace profoundly important to be.

He swept through the dining hall ahead of the pack, and rooted around for an apple. He'd spend an hour taking bites from it while completing his usual morning tasks, and then crawl into bed to snore away the early morning hours.


FUBAR returned to its apartment to find a hungry little targling. It humored the beast and used Amara to provide breakfast to it, then crept onto the glass-encased patio to cycle down for a few hours.

Meanwhile, Ocho and Nila had curled up in their own apartment, content to sleep away the morning. Buttons and Scel had been left to their own devices; both exos had taken up residency on the Building's roof to better appreciate the sun.

A sulking John trundled across the steaming Ruins with a large sack slung on his back. Work was work, and he was slated to hench that morning. No rest for the devious!

Minerva has wisely called it a night before dropping off to her death. She would awaken later that morning to find the sheets beside her rumpled; Klaus had come to cradle her while she revived.

[Highfort]

A hiss escaped the cyborg, teeth clenched and chest recoiling from the rip like a snake poised to strike. Septimus had, quite obviously, not been expecting THAT to follow a gentle caress of the face and chest. The hiss melted into a panting sigh as he tore his eyes away from Neste's snout and face to glance at the patch of pink, hairless skin that was revealed by her so cavalierly tearing off a bumper sticker. More of those would be coming very soon, he knew, and the thought made him slightly afraid and yet, somehow, slightly... aroused. He felt a tingling travel through his body from the tender flesh and it stimulated more carnal parts of him. Yes, indeed, training had prepared him for this. Although, just how thoroughly it had prepared him would probably bring blushes of shame to Ophelia's face. And, most likely, unhinged jaws from Brutus and Cato. But that was a tale for another day.

Neste was here and this was now.

"S-So that's how this is going," Septimus' fingers trailed down her cheek to play with the ample flesh of her chest as he offered a sly grin, "Well that hardly seems fair, now. You don't have any stickers on you to play with."

Leaving the rubbing alcohol forgotten in the sink, Septimus gently cradled Neste with his free arm before guiding her toward the bedroom, "I think it would be wise to proceed with this in a place that's a bit more... comfortable, wouldn't you agree?"

[Tiltjuice]

Chrys slipped her hand into his. Her kind were not at all the most sensitive on the planet, generally speaking, even despite their age and experience. For the first time, she thought of spheres still closed, and wondered all about what it could mean to open them. Far better - or worse - than opening boxes?

However brief her time with Hans had been, she knew him. Had felt every iota of energy and drive inside and around her on a world far away; and she bit her lip to keep her irises from fading to near-white. It would be a dead giveaway about the direction her thoughts had taken, for someone in the know, and she couldn't have that at the moment. Not when her second mate seemed to be missing his passion. She took three more seconds, stretched out by her power, to make sure she wouldn't set the air roiling around herself by way of sharing the tingling heat the memories had aroused...

...and then she cleared her throat and smiled winningly at Mezran, as she rested her thumbtip in Hans' anatomical snuffbox. She'd talk with him privately, later, after breakfast and some rest, perhaps. In the meantime, a distraction might be good for him.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Sandy awoke in the Belas' quarters in the Observatory, suddenly cold: the Critique of the Chill had just dissipated, and the only thing covering him was the bedsheet looped over his midsection. Sandy squinted against the morning light, and steeled himself to get up: the Critique lasted six hours, no more and no less, so it made a great alarm clock... if he didn't want too much sleep. He untangled himself from Amanda, and reached over to the small table by the bed to check the time on his phone: 8:23.

Sandy dragged himself upright, massaging his lower back, abs, and thighs as he did so. The Gift of the Satyrs was wonderful stuff, but he needed to put some time in the dojo to really make the best use of it. Lack of exercise was making him stiff.

The two tiny vials of the Gift lay on their sides on the night table, and Sandy picked them up, smiling in memory. One of them still contained traces of the Gift, and the aroma of cinnamon still clung to it. Sandy sniffed it, noting that its scent had mixed with other, stronger scents in the room. Ah, well: the monks knew they were married when they allowed them to stay, and Sandy couldn't imagine that they'd been the first couple to frolic in their abbey.

Sandy set the vials down upright, idly wondering what the Gift would be worth here. He remembered what Amanda said about magic being illegal, but what about the products of magic? And if it was restricted to the black market, well, there might be even more money in it, if he was careful... Sandy quietly typed out a message to Amanda on his phone; she'd get it when she turned her phone back on. Turning back to her, Sandy tucked her in by casting the Critique on her. She turned over happily in her sleep; even unconscious, the human body appreciated being at just the right temperature.

Briskly, Sandy ran through his morning stretching routine, showered, and dressed. A little sorcery filled Amanda's "sippy cup" full of coffee, and Sandy placed it on the small chest of drawers, leaving the drinking hole open so the smell would slowly fill the room. That would get Amanda moving eventually. Sandy dug a couple of ibuprofen out of Amanda's travel kit and put them by the sippy cup, along with the one fragrant vial of the Gift.

Sandy grabbed up yesterday's copy of the Times, and headed for the communal dining room to read it while he had breakfast. Walking there, he expected he'd be on his own for breakfast. If this place ran on monastery time, breakfast was before dawn and after morning prayers. Perhaps that wasn't so bad: he needed a little time to figure out what to do. He should probably start with meeting Adrastus again and being introduced to his assistant, but then...? So much to do, and so many people to talk to.

[Germanic Templars]

-nullified-

[Primordial Luxa]

"You're welcome, and try not to make any more scenes." Arthur replied and drove off towards the park to meet Neil and Gretta.

Gretta bagged a few gallons of dirt in hopes of extracting Hollow's blood from it or some brain tissue not cleaned up. She also had dug up the area where the bullet should have been expecting to find it as well. Neil in the meantime had calculated where the sniper's position should have been and was going to sweep the area with his chronoscope. Where had the sniper entered and how did they leave were on his mind.

---

NVE had apparently forgotten to call the Bielefeld government during office hours so he rode around killing time, taking the carpool lane with the paralyzed and gift-wrapped Velocidoctor. He stopped by a Taco Bell and got some tacos, then he dialed back impatiently as he stuffed his face with whatever they called meat.

Primordial nodded and made his way back to the DEiMOS, where he began by sending a long letter regarding the previous events to Aegis and Insidious figuring that they most certainly should know about what had just transpired. In addition he decided that this next step in his plans required a certain level of isolation and familiarity so he issued termination notices to two other Luxans who he had hired to help out and he know realized that would do nothing but waste time and resources further down the line. Neither of them took it well but he gave a more than fair pay out that would cover them until they could find a new job. They were both good aids and most certainly wouldn’t have trouble finding a rich wizard or mythos entity to server.

Afterwards he began sending his various Carns on a variety of missions and goals in preparations for the tasks ahead of him. He assigned one group to collect various gems and jewels from the storage areas in the DEiMOS in order to begin crafting a set of gifts and tools for the various members of this Think Tank. He sent another group out to fetch the most basic and useful tome he could think of, one which he felt safe leaving in another location and which would be necessary for any upcoming operations or procedures.

More Carns were sent off to find Primordials black book which had a list of various interesting individuals which he planned on bringing into the organization. This black book of course was carved onto volcanic rock and hidden behind several barrels of magical soup. After that he gathered together a set of around twenty of his magical artifacts which he thought could prove useful at the institution and had some Carns take the Peep in a Box to this lab for study.

It didn’t take long for Primordial and his small army of Carns and Proto Shoggoths to assemble some of the Luxan’s more commonplace technology which would be necessary if they were to set up an exterior laboratory. Already he had assembled a dozen dimensionally transcendent boxes which various machines and devices.

One box was filled entirely with books. It contained the hastily created yet precise lab notes of Primordial and Insidious as well as the very detailed and perfect blueprint of Aegis’s various machinations. Primordial and Insidious notebooks where based on many of their laboratory experiments and previous work in Luxa. As such it was almost unreadable to anyone not versed in their specific shorthand or in insane rabbling’s.

Aegis’s by comparison where laid out in a much more professional manner and described the processes behind the creation of strange devices he had thought up. Things like his Temorphase Archangel, which detailed the ways to dimensionally bind an entire earthquake into an ethereal creature, either as a means to hurt them or to create a dangerous weapon.

[Warpspace]

Thunderous drums carried through the ancient Saxon thicket as iron-clad hooves pounded the forgotten Roman road into submission- the chase was on. Two destriers -monstrous mounts of war bred to bear their noble lords into the fray with the greatest force possible- tore through the underbrush with violent force as they galloped on. Muscles visibly rippled under their thinly furred hide as their legs hammered away at root, stone, and brush with equal ferocity; primordial timber groaning in protest in their forgotten tongue as the two beasts trod upon their roots with abandon. The two steeds held opposed goals in their hearts- a great black stallion bore its knightly master down upon his traitorous quarry while a dappled mare sought to bring her hounded master to safety thanks to the stirrups embedded in her flesh. Both were flowers of nobility stemmed from peerless domestic mastery over the Equus genus. Both were paid for by a handsome ransom fit for the life of a Knight.

And both were fated to brutally die in mere seconds.

Lord Baldwin finally came to the grim realization- he wasn't escaping his pursuer. The game was up, and while he could potentially push his steed a little further, the mare would soon collapse from exhaustion. The berserk Knight had cut off his attempt to flee his besieged keep and hounded his Lordship in dogged pursuit for several hours now. There was no escape to be had, Baldwin's stamina had been claimed by advancement into middle age and now he was hemmed in by his own lack of the quality. His Lordship gritted his teeth behind his embossed conical helmet and tightened the grip on his lance; either he was to be cut down like an exhausted Deer in the hunt or stand like a cornered Boar, and he had no attention to be labeled a coward.

His Lordship spun his horse about to face the direction of his pursuer and charged... and that was when he broke through the brush bordering the old Roman road. The Knight exploded from the foliage, bearing down on his quarry with limitless fury; the Norman Knight failing to even note his prey's sudden act of bravery. Both parties leveled their lances and began the final charge, their steeds thundering across the ancient paved road as they sought to spear the other through the heart. Both Nobles were skilled in the art of equine mastery, trained from their youth to fight in this very exact manner. At the last possible second both riders jinked in opposite directions, twisting barely an inch out of the reach of their lances. Failing to strike their intended target both men instinctively lowered their lances and instead tore into their opposing mounts. The massive wooden pikes performed their lethal art well, steel tipped heads tore into horse-flesh and shredded both muscle and organ, the fine dagger-blades cutting deep into the pelvis and spines of both destriers. Both lances then shattered- showering the Nobles in splinters of wood while internally the Ash shafts exploded from kinetic force and perforated the organs of each loyal steed.

Wracked by pain, both destriers crumbled to the old cobbled road and pitched their riders into the forest floor. The Knight, spry from relative youth compared to the Lord, recovered swiftly and rolled with the fall to avoid injury. The aging Lord Baldwin was less fortunate- a sickening crunch was audible both to the Knight and the pair of gurgling horses as his ankle twisted at a painful angle. Still, a testament to the Lordship's strength of will, the old man fought through the pain and stood upon the contorted foot to face his foe as a man. Wrenching himself fully erect in noble stature, Baldwin drew his sword and gestured for parlay from his assailant.

"Why this lust for my destruction? Why must you dog my every move since attempting to seek solace in my estate? My head will bring you little reward when my ransom will grant you vast riches. I can surrender Wards from my estate, replace your destrier with a breeding pair, even commission my household blacksmith to fashion you a wondrous prosthetic. Yes, I know who you are Sir Knight. Sir Gefrei de Bataille, owner of the fortress in Ivry, a veteran of the wars in Italy. You are lauded as a man of Chivalry, a noble man burdened by a heavy past. Will you not see reason? Will you not spare me as a man of God? I have done no harm upon you Sir Knight, and more than grateful to forgive this transgression. Please, I beg of the, see reason!"

Sir Gefrei de Bataille stood motionless for a full minute with the moonlit Roman road behind him, contemplating the Nobleman's words. His response decided, Gefrei marched several paces forward, speaking as he prepared to set upon Lord Baldwin with every intent of slaying him.

"A man of God? You call yourself such after the actions in Winchester? You may have forgotten your misdeeds Baldwin, but I have not; not until I can hear your screams in the eternal flames below as you pay for your crimes upon this Earth. You are a traitor to your true Queen and a murderer Baldwin, and while these unholy crimes may have slipped your mind as you grew fat on venison of the false-king and drunk from ale, you must be sent to the Divine court to answer for them. The Siege Baldwin, do you remember? Not this one old man, but the fall of Winchester to your bastard King's forces. I remember it because the sight is burned into my memory. Along with thirty men you took prisoner during the siege of Winchester, you captured one who was but a young lad. Innocent, his hands had yet to be stained with the blood of any man. My squire. My cousin. MY WARD. WHO YOU THEN CUT DOWN LIKE A DOG WITH THE REST OF THE PRISONERS SEIZED FOR NO OTHER PURPOSE THAN TO DEMORALIZE THE GARRISON. REASON? REASON WAS GONE THE DAY YOU TOOK THAT PATH. THAT BOY WAS GOING TO BE MY HEIR UNLESS MY WIFE BEARS ME A SON. FOR AS MUCH AS I WILL EVER CARE, THAT BOY, WILHELM, WAS MY SON. ONLY GOD CAN DELIVER THE RIGHTEOUS PUNISHMENT YOU DESERVE WORM, AND I HAVE EVERY INTENTION OF ARRANGING SUCH A MEETING! DEUS VULT!"

Gefrei bellowed out a feverish cry of war before throwing himself upon the cowardly nobleman with complete abandon. Baldwin was immediately overwhelmed, the old man utterly lacking any ability to counter the unrestrained fury of a man nearly two decades younger hellbent on caving in his face. Gefrei paid no attention to any defensive strategy, trusting his hauberk and Italo helm for protection as he hammered his kite shield into the old man's body and throwing the lord off balance. Baldwin however was also clothed in the same quality of armor, any assault by a blade would do little to their armor and utterly fail to land lethal wounds upon their flesh. It was only as Gefrei hammered the extended quillons of his broadsword into Baldwin's spangenhelm that his lordship realized the Knight's plan of attack.

Momentarily stunned from the light concussion sustained, Baldwin stumbled several more paces back as he attempted to gather his wits and stop his head from spinning. Gefrei held no intent to allow this, and charged at the puffed up nobleman again. Gripping his sword by the blade in his left hand, Gefrei twirled the sword to gain more concussive force before bringing the crossguard on the lord's helmet once more. And again. And again. By the fifth strike a visible dent had formed in Baldwin's nasal helmet; by the sixth an audible crack was heard as a hairline fracture was formed in Baldwin's skull as his own helmet was driven like a wedge between the bone plates. Blood welled up in the man's skull and leaked out from the helmet, spilling across his coif as the old fool collapsed against a nearby tree. Delirious from fear, Baldwin futilely tried to push the Knight away from his person with weakening limbs, resistance Gefrei casually powered through. Swiftly dropping his sword and drawing a dagger in what seemed to be a single, fluid motion, Gefrei struck the killing blow. Through watering, clouding eyes Baldwin looked down to see a dagger rammed down to the hilt sticking from his jugular as ichor gushed from his rent neck.

Desperately clinging on to life, the dying man clutched at his neck to close the wound in vain as his arteries spurt blood and lost pressure. His circulatory system began to fail entirely as blood ceased to travel to his brain and instead gushed across his chest and stained the ground. In his final seconds of consciousness Baldwin stared at Gefrei's primitive enclosed helmet and looked at its details through swiftly blurring eyes. A crown of metal thorns wreathed it like a crown while over the location of the mouth, the leering teeth of a skull were etched into the steel. But what caught his attention in the final second of conscious life were the eyes. Peering through the small curved slots in the face-plate were brown human eyes, glaring at Baldwin with the utmost contempt for his life. His last thought before slipping away into unconsciousness and hastily following death was just how much anger the copper orbs seemed to convey.

Gefrei tore his gaze from the bleeding corpse, content with having seen the life drain from the old man's eyes. He had claimed vengeance for his slain ward. The anger and lust for revenge he had bottled up was finally released and would trouble his choler no longer. The Knight could finally live in peace having avenged his fallen squire- return to his wife and soon-to-be-born child in Normandy. While he may yet stay in the fight for a few years longer out of loyalty to the rightful heir to the throne of England, he felt that he had earned at least some retirement from the field for now. His main motivation to stay in the fight was finished now with the death of Baldwin. Yes. Now was the time to live in happiness and revel in the glorious future that awaited the gestating Angevin Empire. Gefrei turned back to face the slumping corpse of the dead lord, deciding there was a final act to be done.

"Requiescat in pace, Wilhelm. You are avenged." Gefrei spoke in a hushed voice as he performed one final act of humiliation upon his lordship. Kicking the corpse to lie prone upon the forest floor in a pool of its cooling blood, Gefrei rammed his sword through the corpse's mouth and draped a crucifix necklace. It felt fitting to both slay and deface Wilhelm's killer with the sword he had intended to use to knight the lad upon reaching his nineteenth birthday.

The Knight turned to the two crumpled mounts on the ancient road and sighed. Destriers were ludicrously expensive, a single horse of their breeding would cost enough money to buy a thousand heads of sheep- to replace his mount would bite into his coffers. Worse yet he had chased after Baldwin alone and without a palfrey in tow, meaning he now had to walk back to the Angevin Camp.

+

Thankfully the old road was illuminated by moonlight and the light of the galaxy itself, creating what appeared to be an almost heavenly path as the silver light of space bounced off the cobblestone. The weather was also well suited to a long march in heavy, insulated armor that would make such a trip in the heat outright hellish. Hours passed as the lone Knight marched down the ancient road and began to tire. His shoes were simply pathetic in structure and little more than leather socks tied to his feet; debris on the road poked into the soles and rubbed painfully against his feet with each step taken. His energy was already drained by the several hour chase on horseback, the short but violent duel, and finally wandering in the late evening on this ill-maintained road. The forest flanking the cobblestone road looked so pleasant now, offering banks of moss to retire upon with mild comfort.

Longing for some well-deserved rest, the Knight abandoned the cobbled moonlit path and wandered into the forest; seeking a bed of moss to lay his heavy head upon. The further he wandered into the forest, the stranger the woods seemed. Gnarled trunks twisted upwards from the forest floor painted in the rusted shades of Autumn- seeming to groan in protest of his passing. Gefrei shook off the strange noises similar to the creaking of oak and ash floorboards as merely the wind tugging the old flora against their roots. It was nothing to be concerned about- to be anxious over such minor oddities was a waste of energy that would only further tire him.

Finally after nearly twenty minutes of aimless exploration, Gefrei spied a pleasant spot to rest on. An old tree sat in the center of a modest clearing, encrusted in lichen with roots draped in a sea of moss and ferns. Not even bothering to shed his helm, let alone his armor, the Knight collapsed in a corner formed by two great roots splitting the ground under them and rising up to form small walls. Gefrei's eyes grey heavy immediately upon relaxing into the natural bedding. He only bothered to remove the buckles that held the sanguine robe gifted to him by Roger of Sicily's house to his neck. Using it as a blanket, he tucked it around his armor to preserve warmth in what would be a cold British night.

The knight drifted off to sleep, slipping away into fantasies of killer rabbits and besieging Jerusalem on pegasi- ignorant of the world around him. As he slumbered Gefrei ceased to age with the world around him; forgotten by his people as his body grew covered by the overgrowth of surrounding plants. Roots twisted about his body as the years passed as bushes sprouted and wilted with the passing seasons. Over decades planets grew, died, and decomposed, leaving Gefrei buried under an increasing pile of dirt. Centuries past and the days of his status as a knight waxed and waned into oblivion with the invention of full plate armor and the subsequent spread of gunpowder. His wife was long dead, his castle had passed through countless hands of ownership until it too was forgotten, and Sir Gefrei de Bataille’s very existence was soon forgotten. Later aircraft would dance upon the wings of Mercury in the skies of Britain a full seven hundred and ninety-three years after his death; sundered German bombers screaming down into the channel as the canons of Spitfires unleashed righteous English fury.

But he was oblivious to it all. The wars, the kings, even his own legacy being swiftly ground to dust by entropy. Still sleeping in that ancient Saxon forrest, Gefrei was ignorant of all the world’s happenings. Buried under the ancient Oak tree he sought shelter under, the Knight was not even there for the mutually lethal birth of his stillborn son.

Eight Hundred and Sixty-Eight Years Later

It was the crack of dawn. Swallows fluttered through the air in flocks, chirping as they jumped between the trees in flight. The heavenly rays of Sol cracked over the eastern horizon,their slow rise was upon the western world as they left the east in shadow. The forests in the outskirts of Bielefeld were stirring from their rest, or what they had attempted to achieve during the previous day’s and night’s events. Nocturnal predators sulked through the undergrowth, seeking a peaceful den for retreat until the next night. Worms poked their indistinguishable heads from the surface of the dirt as they were naturally drawn to the dew coating blades of grass and moss.

A thick hiking-boot soon crushed the aspirations for the day (if non-sentient invertebrates could have aspirations) of an unlucky worm. The black leather and rubber footwear mashed the miserable invertebrate into paste before picking up and taking another step, ruining the existence of some insufferable insect. Its owner, a gardener, was blissfully ignorant of the life he ended with each step- although he likely would have done so anyway if conscious of his actions out of spite. They were good for the health of his plants- but in his opinion the gardener preferred everything spotless of life the squeamish might find objectionable- specifically in this plot of land.

Risen early to maximize the cool hours of the morning (and shake the memory of some rather embarrassing actions he had woken to find himself involved in), the man had called to find one of his menial laborers having similar thoughts. This was not the exclusive source of the gardeners motivation however, in truth his desire to get to work early was the object said work involved. It was a tree. Not just any tree, but an ancient great Oak plucked from a forest in Britain that sprouted in the days before Christ. While the gardener was not a religious man, the sheer age of the tree made it a relic of history in his eyes. The aging man stared at the great gnarled thing with watery eyes upon entering the workplace; it was a gift to do this job. He was grateful for such an opportunity to be passed his way by the mysterious benefactor of this plant “museum” being assembled on the edge of Bielefeld- who, come to think of it, had never spoken to the gardener outside of physical letter.

Then the gardener remembered the events of last night and the “colorful” characters who inhabited this city and honestly. In comparison your boss communicating with your purely through hand-written letters dumped in your mailbox wasn’t even the tenth strangest thing to happen in this odd place. Forgetting the observation, the gardener took his eyes off the Oak tree suspended in the air from a great crane and waved at the driver. Spotting the signal from his boss, the menial wrenched one of the levers in the crane’s cab- sending the oak tree plummeting into the ground and the holes excavated for its roots. The gardener cringed in sympathetic pain as he witnessed the ancient tree crash into the ground without grace or control, potentially risking the death of the oak itself. Fuming at the menial’s apathetic incompetence, the gardener rolled up his sleeves and marched over to the crane’s cabin to give the cheap labor a lengthy monologue on the subject of his stupidity. When passing the dropped Oak the gardener tripped however- his balance lost on some infernal root and leading to his face becoming embedded in the muddy ground.

Changing his opinion of the ancient tree in the instant he blamed it for his fall, the Gardener’s monologue of curses switched targets from the menial to the oak. If this was a sign of how the rest of the day was going to unfold he was going to run up an enormous tab at the local pub. Continuing to curse, the gardener rolled his face out of the mud and pivoted on his hip to see what in the seven rings of hell had arrested his motion and sent him tumbling into the muck. The action was pointless though- he knew very well it was a root that had tripped him. Or at least the gardener was confident in that sentiment until he saw the true cause; his blood chilling at the sight. It wasn’t frightening in the same sense as the “abbies” that roamed around this city, but it was wrong. Out of place, too perfectly preserved to be natural.

Punching through the mud and roots was a single perfectly preserved steel gauntlet, its fingers wrapped tightly around the gardener’s leg. While a historical piece of armor may not be entirely unusual to be found wrapped up in the matter of a plant so ancient… one of this perfect quality was wholly unnatural. It looked unblemished by entropic forces of time- free of any rust or weathering. In fact it looked like it had been maintained by an artificer for how many centuries it was entombed by the oak tree, the only flaw was caked mud from the surrounding dirt pit. He could have kept his senses at this point and waved it off as some unnatural, but not unfathomable preserved corpse of an old knight, at least until the arm twitched and began to move. A left arm ripped from the mud and began to carve away that kept its owner trapped underground, the gardener looking on in shock as a man hauled himself out of the ground.

Dirt and blobs of mud sloughed from the man’s armor as he wrestled himself from the ground. Beneath a phrygian conical helmet, the man gasped for air while audibly spitting muck from his mouth against the liner of his helmet’s faceplate. The knight of yore stood tall for only a brief period after wrenching himself from the earth- falling to his knees in exhaustion in a metallic chime as maille links jingled like bells from the impact. This mysterious man risen from the ground was wholly ignorant of the gardener’s existence for the time being; he was consumed with the basal functions of life as his brain demanded oxygen from his stasis. Only after taking numerous great gulps of air did the knight turn to see the aging gardener sprawled across the ground before him- eyes still wide in shock. Realizing the strange knight was not gazing upon him, the gardener scrambled backwards from his position in fear, unsure of the stranger’s intentions. The knight however had no intention of malice, but his advance looked frightening irregardless due to the nature of his armor. His helmet was phrygian in fashion, meaning its top curved forward and due to personal adornment, was topped with a “topknot” made of horsehair. Spikes ran about the crown of the helm to signify his christian piety and the forging process of the face-guard left indentations that could be mistaken for a skull’s leer. Understandably all these elements factored together could pose quite a horrifying sight for a startled man on the edge of hysteria.

Sensing the man’s fear from his own experience in war, the knight removed his leather-maille gauntlets and let them hang from the ties that affixed them to the armor on his forearm; holding bare hands to calm him. The knight repeated the word “Pes” to the startled gardener, unfortunately unaware that the early Anglo-Norman french language was all but extinct- the only true remnant spoken by a small population in modern Normandy. But the accent and the word sounded close enough to Pais, which was something the gardener understood from french lessons taken in childhood. Recovering from his state of terror, the gardener stuttered “Oui” multiple times in response as he picked himself up from the mud.

The apparently Norman Knight began to babble in his forgotten tongue, mistaking the gardener’s response for affirmation of his understanding (Oui sounding terribly similar to his word for yes) and thus allowing for a discussion to be held. The gardener shook his head the knight continued to talk, attempting to convey his ignorance of what the medieval man spoke of. The point eventually was delivered by sign-language, and the knight shook his helm bearing head in frustration. He tried the filthy tongue of the Saxons and even the little Italian he knew to no avail. Furious at this language barrier he had stumbled into during his great slumber, a lightbulb went off and the Norman immediately grabbed the shoulders of the gardener, fervently repeating a single phrase.

“Anno Domini!”

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

As Neil And Gretta combed the park where Prim's little incident occurred, the Chronon-Detectors they both carried began to whir and ding softly. Neil looked down at the reading with curiosity. "It isn't here nor nearby. Just a sudden spike." He said to himself as he took a mental note. He resumed scanning the area's recent past hoping to catch a glimpse of the USiPo sniper.

[Swith Witherward]

Hans remain unaware of any angst swirling in Chrys' heart. The clues washed by unnoticed by the usually sharp cultist leader; his fatigue seemed to have saturated every fiber of his being, rendering him to a state of exhaustion that was partially mitigated by his inner daemon. Rache wouldn't abuse it, nor would he bring harm his host's chrysanthemum. He prompted Hans to fold his fingers around Chrys' hand, though the smile on the man's face was a genuine manifestation of Hans' heart.

The warmth of the sun's rays as they crept over the mountain to bathe the town held the promise of a warm, late summer day spent lazing about town. Hans' plans included only breakfast and sleep, but perhaps he would have warmth to keep him company? He had yet to ask Chrys what her decision was, officially, though he'd given her a key in cryptic fashion. That would have to wait. It would be rude to refuse Mezran's offer.

The four of them returned to the Building without any harassment, and the humans soon found themselves tucking in to a heavy breakfast courtesy of their klingon hosts. They didn't push their plates away until well after Hans' pocket watch chimed 9. Their guests stayed to assist with tidying up, and then parted. It was the hall wall that stopped Hans from keeling over, and he walked down it with a hand running along its smooth surface as the pair made their way towards the end of the hall.

"Chrys?" he ran his fingers through his hair as he offered the woman a sheepish smile and threw aside his best laid plans. "If I don't lie down, I'll fall down. You're welcome to join me - not the falling down part - if you want, unless you'd rather stay elsewhere? I never did get around to officially inviting you."

He could hear the words tumbling from his own mouth. This wasn't how he'd planned to ask. He thought of the flowers he had set in the refrigerator to keep fresh until later that night. That night?! Fuck, it was weeks ago since he'd pressed the key into her hand. The flowers were probably withered up sticks surrounded by brown petals.



"It is a little known fact that love, sex, pain and violence all stimulate the release of similar chemicals and hormones in the human body," the small lizard recited as she smoothed the wrinkles from the front of her Planet Hollywood shirt and cocked her head to regard her thade companion. "Endorphins that are released in painful experiences are often perceived as pleasurable. Stress and pain can also stimulate the serotonin and melatonin production in the brain, which transforms painful experiences into pleasure. The release of epinephrine and norepinephrine in pain can also cause a pleasurable 'rush'. Normal human biological response actually supports the complex and mysterious link between pain and pleasure, which we see in the runner's high and the facial expressions during orgasmic release. Given our biology, it is not terribly surprising that the practice of combining painful techniques with sexuality is ancient. Roman poets, ancient tribal drawings and even the Kama Sutra all refer to safe practices of what has come to be known as..."

Nila's words dwindled away as Ocho slowly rotated his head to gape at her. He lowered his hand, no longer able to bring himself to knock at the door as intensive screams rose from the Septimus' apartment. His keen hearing left very little to his imagination.

"As?" the furrow in his brow intensified.

Nila flashed a toothly grin. "BDSM, of course. You see, the master-slave Roman concept of bondage and discip-"

Ocho's largish hand lashed out to gently clamp the lizard's snout shut. He didn't want to hear about Romans. Holy gods, he squinted at the door as his remaining ear swished forward to better capture the noise, human males shouldn't be capable of making those sounds! What the fuck is she doing to him in there?

Of course, what Neste was doing to Septimus didn't matter. At least, not as far as our general readership is concerned. Needless to say, she did it very well, bringing him to the red tinged edge of oblivion before soothing him back to cold reality, only to renew the process once more. She read Septimus' mind, content to indulge his whims and fears as per his demand, all the while revealing the firm and dominant side of a higher construct's personality. Whether or not she would outdo Ophelia was a decision only Septimus could make. He was the sole judge on the matter, but she wasn't there to compete with the dead woman; she was only there to pleasure the man that brought her joy.

The thade and his companion gave up plans to invite the other couple to breakfast. In fact, they departed the hall rather hastily, despite Nila's insistence that they knock and be allowed to watch (she had always wanted to see the Overseer in action). It was some hours later that they chanced to pass the door again. Ocho paused and listened, but he heard nothing. He nudged Nila along to their apartment.

In fact, Neste had tended her beloved's wounds as the couple renewed their bond and trust, and then fallen asleep curled around him, her head submissively laid on his chest to better experience the rise and fall of his diaphragm. 9 AM found the human cyborg and lizard still in bed. Neither had yet to stir. When they finally did, Septimus would find his skin presentable to the general public.

[Torsiedelle]

The night, thankfully, did end in sleep for a few people. At some point, Katya had come home, as was evident by her clothes, tossed in the closet next to the bathroom. She had gone into the other bedroom to sleep.

Torii was snoozing away next to Drova, her face buried into the covers. On the TV, the theme to one cartoon or another was jingling, making the room feel a little less empty.

Meanwhile, Jasmine had made her way home, and was sprawled out on the small one-person bed in her bedroom. Actually, she was halfway off of the bed, her upper body resting on a pile of pillows and other sheets. A pool of drool has accumulated her her head as she snored away. Fatigue had hit hard, and she was glad to get some sleep.

It was already an hour past the time Torii and her sister usually got up. Where was the smell of pancakes and bacon? Torii's stomach growled.

[Highfort]

"The sexual embrace can only be compared with music and with prayer."

A sigh.

Marcus Aurelius was a most intriguing Terran. In particular, Septimus had an affinity for the Roman Emperor's Meditations and often his thoughts drifted toward an appropriate quote or two to address the moment. Sexual embrace was indeed on his mind as he awoke at a particularly late hour in the morning, if the sunlight gleaming through the slats of his bedroom window's blinds was any indication. He resisted the urge to let out a groan of satisfaction as fuzzy memories of what had transpired earlier in the morning buzzed in his head. Neste's snout was still gently nestled on his chest, and he brought up a free arm - the other lay on her back - to run fingers over her scaled face.

How he'd ever gotten so lucky and ended up with the woman who had commanded his attention on Dyste all those years ago and enchanted him even now was beyond his reasoning. All he knew was that he was thankful for the opportunity, for her.

The cyborg parted his lips to wake her but found that the best he could do was merely croak out a few syllables of her name. His voice was there, but it was faint and required the restorative properties of a hot cup of tea and a proper breakfast. The construct laying atop him had done quite well at lacerating his vocal chords with the screams of pain and pleasure she elicited from tortured skin and uprooted hair. His chest was as smooth as that of a newborn babe, though with slightly more defined muscles than one would expect to find on a child. Curiously enough, as he tilted his head to peer at his body, he found no markings. Another ingenuity of Nifid technology, he supposed, and a very useful one for those with proclivities leaning toward bondage and sexual torture.

The thing that had surprised Septimus the most about their second romantic rendezvous was that she had... stayed. Oh, sure, with vanilla sex there was an expectation to wake up and perhaps have a smoke - he hadn't had one in a while, now that he thought about it, and his mind did indeed still crave nicotine, though at a much lower level than his old, wrinkled form - but with Ophelia he'd awoken to bruises and burns and an empty space beside him, still warm from her presence the night before. Neste's mere presence, the warmth and soothing sounds she made as she slept, comforted him as he languidly took in the morning sunshine and his mental faculties roused him from his slumber.

He didn't deserve her, not one bit. And, within himself, buried deep, he hoped one day she realized just how much he owed her for all this, for helping him through everything. It wouldn't do for someone like her to have anything less.

The cyborg adjusted his throat with several coughs as his hand gracefully traced its way down the construct's back, avoiding her ports widely to ensure she got the rest she deserved. "N-Neste? Hey."

He gingerly cracked his shoulders as he sat up in bed and gently held her face in his hands, kissing her on the snout to greet her, "Thank you."