1358/CatP - Heaven

CatP - Heaven
Date of Scene:	18 January 2015
Location:	A Quiet World
Synopsis:	To die, to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.
Cast of Characters:	2, Arthur Lowell, Priscilla, 152, 183, 253, Eryl Fairfax, 570
Tinyplot:	A Chime at the Precipice

---

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    A peculiar thing has begun to happen since the group's last visit: the white splotches of the sky have begun to creep over from 'dead' realms of the world. This means that the sky above you, in lieu of a clear night sky or even a stormy one, is pure white. This effect, mixed with the silence of the city just beyond this library's gates, creates an exceptionally eerie effect that might make one feel constantly as though some phantom limb were to reach out at them from behind. As though some creature, so lost in its own regret and mourning, might bubble from the surface of this world's fading paper to drag you with it to its demise, so that you may share the absence of the environment in your mind. What might once have been a mildly comforting place has become forbidding, and sojourners here may well feel relieved when they reach the library, the only place that seems to offer any respite from the encroaching uncertainty outside.

    It, at least, has not changed. It is still quiet, but that quiet is a pleasant thing, and interrupted now and then by the crackle of a fire that breathes warmth into the place or the trickle of the fountain that reminds of the artistry this world so wishes to herald. Light, tainted by a bitter ivory though it may be, is still transformed into a veritable rainbow as it breaks through the stained glass, making it feel as though it, too, was more alive. Yes, in all ways this library feels the quintessential bastion of hope against something dour, right down to the creeping feeling of dread that scrapes at every wall and encourages each person present to stay put.

    As always, Fenestra is here, this time sitting quietly at her desk and reading. She acknowledges the group with a glance, but rather than giving her usual smile and wave, she would look almost... sympathetic. Mournful of something yet to come, maybe, though of what she would refuse to speak. Mizuki is with her, back rested against the velveteen cushion of a chair whose arms have been crafted to resemble planets, and whose legs are bound to the seat by star-shaped sculptures. She, too, looks mournful, and she would lag behind her librarian somewhat in her response to the group's arrival. Still, though, it would come eventually in the form of a gradual, tired shift of the neck and a vague nod. She looks rather miserable, all told.

    Her mouth would open, but at first, nothing would come. Her eyes would shut for several moments more. And then, a breath -- a gathering of strength which she must keep close as she undertakes to look upon her guests again, and to know what they'll be doing this eve. To say she's not happy about that 'what' would be a horrible understatement.

    "Greetings," Her voice is hushed, lacking its usual personality, "and welcome to my library. If only it were so warm an affair as a 'welcome' should traditionally explain, though. If only we were here to continue Miss Avery's story, or to start a new one. What a nice thing that would be." She would gently cradle her forehead a moment. "But you know what we are here for, of course -- more conflict and strife and adversity. It's enough to make one ill, but I suppose I've done enough festering over this already. Allow me to explain the issue of the day." With that she would stand, folding her hands at her waist, herself almost as pale as the skies above.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "Today..." She hesitates. "Today, you all will be delving into the Book of Heaven. It is the access point for one of the deepest parts of this world, and a sanctum I retreat to when I need a lifetime of happiness to counteract something I am currently brooding over. It is the embodiment of my perfect world, and as such, it will also become the embodiment of yours." Her arms would fold behind her back, her body stiffening into an oratory pose faintly more typical of her. "What I mean to say is, it will place you in the world that you would most like to live in. Depending on the person, it may also temporarily remove key memories of yours that would make these places seem incongruous with your current reality. All these memories will be restored when the dream concludes, but that dream is meant to conclude at the end of a mortal lifespan. So roughly seventy or one hundred years from now, give or take. I presume none of you want to wait that long."

    "Also of note," Her hand would rest on the peak of the chair she had been sitting in, "is that this world is a jealous creature. It is watched over by a being that has its own sapience, but also lacks the ability to manifest outside of the world this book conjures. It will be working constantly to trick you into remaining in this tome until your body, by various phenomena, will... melt, into the fabric of my world. -Almost- needless to say, this would equate to death, and you would likely spend eternity lost in your own fantasy. Not... the worst fate, but not one I believe you all would wish to fall victim to, either."

    "You will each begin this journey in separate iterations of this world broken apart by thin, conceptual walls. There are methods by which you may seek to penetrate into the worlds of others, but be aware if you do that the dream will fight you still to make you appear as yet another aspect of it. If you were to, say, enter the world belonging to a princess, you may appear as a butler, or their closest sibling. That sort of thing. You may choose to play along with this, because the more 'contextual' the manner in which you aid another in shifting out of their fabricated ideal, the less agitated the warden will become. And the less agitated the warden is, well..." Her eyes close, briefly, "... the easier it will be to access -my- ideal, where I am going to assume the number rests."

    "In short, the goal of this journey is to overcome your own dream worlds and reach the number. You may receive the help of others, but it would be unwise to rely on it considering they, too, must work their way out of their dreams to reach you. Now, as I said, the moment you enter this region you may experience an unnerving absence where some of your memories should be. This will subside once you leave, but the world will be working against us to 'fill' those empty spaces with some of its own truth. These truths will likely taste like the sweetest candy, and all you'll have to rely upon are your gut feelings and some scattered memories. There is /no guarantee/ that you will ever wake from this dream, but considering who you are, what you've seen, who you've known, et cetera, I have every confidence this will not be an issue."

    Mizuki's hand would slip away from the chair. "Now if there are no further questions, I will have Fenestra open the novel for us. The moment she does, we will begin. Do not hesitate to tell me if you would rather not help me in this way -- I would take no offense."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber is here for many reasons. There was the obvious fact that Mizuki wanted help with her world and this was another step in that goal. More subtly was his talk with Apathy and her request that he continue to help despite his frustrations with the dual Arthurs. He also felt a requirement to be here because of the talisman she had given him that would aid in this specific endeavor. And trailing in at the back of the pack is his curiousity based on Apathy telling him to prod and poke Mizuki over the Heaven trip in specific.

    This multitude of reasons all ended in the half-angel being present today. He's dressed in his more casual attire of a short and worn leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. He also has a gun tucked into the small of his back and out of sight for most people. To Mizuki's inquiry, Psyber raises a hand and says, "I have a further question. Are you okay with being here?"

    "Supplemental question: Can you couch that question frankly instead of in a verbose fashion?" Psyber inquires as a follow-up. He gives Mizuki a bright smile and seems otherwise ready to proceed.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko is here, dressed again in casual clothing. Not a coat and scarf, this time, because she expected to be indoors. Her knit sweater still has that wintry look, though its not quite ugly enough to have been a traditional Christmas present.

    She has no questions for Mizuki. There's a bit of uncertainty over this matter, and a coincidental recall to events of the previous night. Then, a vampire had tried tempt her, and everyone else, with power, wealth, and longevity. Now she'll be tempted with... happiness? It's not the kind of battle she can walk into with utter certainty in victory. It's not the sort of thing you can just /prepare/ for.

    The presence of certain others here, familiar to her, is all the more comforting in this case.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    There's something wrong with the sky. It makes Arthur Lowell uncomfortable in ways that a god can't articulate in the language of human beings. Today he's actually a little more quiet than usual. Well, it is a library, after all, so he's got to keep a little more quiet. "I know how this goes." He says, nodding firmly. "Trust your gut, right? Ain't never been a time I didn't do that." He does a quick fistpump. "So, be careful, but we can probably pull through. I can dig it. One of us has gotta be able to get the rest of it, at least!"

    He does a bit of stretching, casually, eagerly ready to jump into things. Too eagerly, honestly. He's covering up his discomfort with energy again, though he rather obviously does legitimately want to help out on this one. "I mean, basically living my ideal life now. Whatever extra it gives me, can't be enough to keep me in that long, right?" He takes a ready, energetic stance. "Hit me whenever we're ready."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl strides through the city, seemingly without feeling the tension that the white sky above seems to bring. The key word here is 'seemingly.' His implants are working overtime, trying to quell that feeling of dread, keeping the hairs on the back of his neck from standing up. His eyes are firmly on the ground before him, ignoring the impossibility of a white sky above. However, he strides on regardless, dead-set on helping Mizuki. Because he can.

     He actually has to bite his tongue a little to keep a sigh of relief from escaping when they enter the library. The worry he feels is soothed somewhat by the grandiosity of the architecture, the presence of such finery. He offers Fenestra a polite bow of the head and a smile, which he offers similarly to Mizuki.

     He doesn't need Original Face to know that the girl is deeply concerned. For them, perhaps? Or is the stress of this whole undertaking getting to her? She begins to speak, and so he listens patiently. As she does, his implants come to life, matching what she says with what he has learned. Maybe there is a clue? Right now, all he gets is references to the lotophagi encountered by Odysseus, Nozick's Experience Machine and the like. Happy experiences that are not 'real.'

     Clearing he throat, he gives Mizuki a reassuring smile. "Not to worry Miss Mizuki. We shall prevail, and each of us will come back from this. Even if I have to break into everyone else's dream and snap them out of it." He gives everyone a look that says he means this, before nodding his head. "I have no questions. Ready when you are."

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    The white sky certainly is different, but Homura has never been one for enjoying the scenery as much as she should. Lack of time, lack of (free) focus. Thankfully Mizuki probably didn't invite her over to look at the sky and collect her thoughts on the matter. Or the library, or much of anything else. The purpose of her visit is obviously business, because if there's one constant across worlds here it's 'things needing done'.

    "I'll endeavor not to succumb to silly and stupid ideals. I've lived my life like that, anyhow. I don't think your book can spring anything on me that'll make me want to stay longer than needed," she says. How wrong she is, but she's been dealing with this stuff for a long time. What's one more fucked up reality bubble? Ha. Haha.

    She turns towards Kimiko, considering. They could leave their Soul Gems outside the book. If something goes wrong their core won't be stuck in whatever. But... well, maybe the book's conceptually far enough they can't. Is it worth a risk? It'd be an interesting experiment, but it'd also be hard to pull off without huge risk. Oh well. She keeps the suggestion to herself, though she doesn't doubt the same line of thought crosses her fellow magical girl.

    "So all we have to do is tell a dream to shut up and find a clock number?"

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja is here, dressed for the occasion: that is, in full battle dress. The Inquisitor sports a small frown on his muzzle, particularly upon seeing Mizuki's manner. The ratling tries his best to hide the worry in his eye, but that much is all but useless. He does not like the pain and weight upon his friend's shoulders. Would that he could merely burn it away!

Which, to some degree, may well be possible given why they're gathered here. Still, the young Inquisitor hardly enjoys seeing this woman thrown into the storm of conflict. It has never seemed her nature for all that she and her servants are more than adept at it. Faruja takes his traditional bow. Perhaps tellingly, he doesn't even summon a cup of tea. All business, today.

"Blessings, Lady Mizuki, Lady Fenestra." That worry and his lack of usual unthusiasm might well be noted. Seriousness all around. To the others, it's a similar bow, and his usual round of blessings.

But her words draw his priestly words as insects to bright lights.

"Such art the wages of our Sin and weakness, mine Lady. Forgive me if I forgoe the usual metaphors..." There's an irritated glance outside, brow twitching. The place had /always/ drawn his ire, but now? It's a miracle he isn't running about, trying to quite literally burn away the corrupt ivory light. Every fur on his body might well seem on end, and his tail lash furiously when he pays it no heed.

~~ Ten Minutes Ago ~~

Faruja stands outside the warpgate, scowling as the air seems all but inundated with corrupt energy. /White/ corrupt energy. In a pious, proper show of his righteous wrath, he shakes a fist at the sky!

"CEASE MOCKING MINE METAPHORS, YE BLOODY WHITEWASHED TACKBOARD!"

~~ Now ~~

"For I fear they art of ill use. Regardless, as ever, faith mine dear, in each other if naught else." A small shrug and the ghost of the smile for his brooding friend's benefit.

A brow rises. "Book...of Heaven." Faruja's jaw opens, then closes a few times. He /stares/. Then, there's a long, deep sigh.

"...We shall talk later. Right. Our 'perfect world', ye say?" The more he hears, the less he likes.

Ahem. "I hath nay intention of dieing in a mere illusion." Comments the rat, before falling silent.

A hand rubs over his face. For a brief moment, doubt besets him. His own perfect world? The rat knows better how intoxicating such a thing is, particularly when he's devoted himself to achieving it. A grasp of his cross, a prayer, and a nod.

"As Ser Fairfax states. We shall overcome. A pox upon waking dreams. Only the Lord shall bring perfection, now a mere tome's doings." By the half-snarl on his muzzle, this whole thing has the rat feeling uneasy, and more than a little worried. But he's certainly not going anywhere.

"Let us bloody get this over with." His brow then quirks. A glance to Mizuki. What /ever/ could she dream of?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki hesitates a moment with Psyber. Her mouth opens and closes several times before, finally, she manages a word: "... no. No, I am not. Not only has my own home begun to feel foreign and broken, but I am also about to send all of my f --" She would stop herself. "... all of you into danger. Horrible danger from whence your powers cannot save you. And if that weren't enough, you'll be directly exposed to my vices, my preconceptions of you... it's..." Her eyes squeeze shut. "It's unthinkable. I wish very much that this day would end with as much immediacy as possible." Mizuki is shaking as she concludes, "I hope that is succinct enough for you, and I am sorry if I came off as somewhat curt." Arthur would get a lingering look from her, too, with a sort of severity and anguish that makes her look far more human than she would ever be comfortable knowing. She mouths a 'Be careful' to him, though, and leaves it at that.

    Eryl gets an equally displeased look at first, but she's able to stifle that with a breath, here. "... yes. Yes, do not mistake my concern for a lack of faith. I have quite a lot of faith. But I also know that our desires can be difficult things to resist, especially when... especially when your mind has been clouded to more 'real' alternatives. Do not underestimate this world's ability to toy with you, Eryl. Remain cognisant of the risk at all times, trust your intuition in everything, and you will find your way back here. Also bear in mind that even this advice may not reach you where your mind is about to travel." Then, Homura. Homura gives her pause. "Miss Akemi, I will speak honestly for a moment. You have seen far more pain than I have, have known far more grief, and likely have much more experience in resisting temptations of all sorts. I do not refute any of this in my statement, but even so: your behavior concerns me. In order to prevail here, you must have a certain depth of introspection. And people who have seen such awful things often tend to... occupy their thoughts with things outside of themselves. This will force you to know yourself in ways that would be horribly painful if they weren't glossed over with the hues of beauty. Please, do take care. This is not a criticism, but a warning." She would steal a glance at Psyber as well, here.

    Faruja would elicit a smile from her, followed by a subtle frown. "Your God preserve you, Faruja." Her words are muttered and somber. She seems... resigned, at this point, and she might even feel a trifle ashamed of herself for her bold words to Homura.

Priscilla has posed:
    Finally, another one of the usual suspects has deigned to show their face. Priscilla arrives a little while after everyone else, which is an oddity in of itself since normally she's right on time. Whether that be because she had reservations about coming to begin with, or whether she was simply distracted by the surreal, melancholy and unnerving tones of the world outside the library is anyone's guess. It's clear that she doesn't like the state of things though, judging by her (barely) visible relief when she enters the last place that doesn't seem like it's uttering its last, sad, dying gasps.

    "An entire mortal lifetime? That is an . . . impressively, long time for something such as this." Priscilla frowns ever so faintly at the idea. She's not sure how to feel about the description of the Book of Heaven. She can hardly fault someone for their moments of weakness and desires for happier things, but something that provides that great of an escape from anything and everything sounds dangerous. Something that could result in never growing past one's problems at best, or a destructive, addicted dependancy at worst. "This is not a concept completely unknown to me. I believeth I will hath some measure of success." So she says. In reality, what Priscilla thinks is that she's experienced so much misery over her years that 'heaven' would be difficult to believe in at all.

    Or would that only make her more vulnerable?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    After everyone has said their piece, Fenestra would retrieve a book from underneath the desk. It's... rather underwhelming, in earnest, sporting a plain, worn leather cover that makes it look almost homemade. A small string is tied around its length to keep it shut as the binding, far too weak from age, no longer can. Naturally, the first step Fenestra takes is to undo this string, and...

    ... and then there's a transformation. The book, inclusive of all its ragged pages, erupts into a swirling tornado of literature that carries the remains of the book near to the ceiling of the library. This would be met with all the clattering of papers and howls of the wind that one would expect, only relenting when the the tome itself has been transformed quite completely. The massive chronicle that returns to Fenestra's desk on some far gentler, unseen winds is the antithesis of its predecessor, sporting a large circle -- a moon wrought from diamonds, it appears to be -- on its cover, with lightly colored ambers to mark each of its four corners. A single word written in a beautiful, flowing cursive quite unlike Mizuki's own would read:

    ~ H E A V E N ~ .

    Without a moment's hesitation, Fenestra would open the book halfway. At first, the pages would appear blank -- purest white with not a hint of color or characterization. This persists not a moment, though, before pencil-drawn images resolve.

    ERYL would see a tiny flower with petals tinted the gentlest pink peeking out from the ground.

    PSYBER would see the living room a modest house. Particularly, the image would focus on a black reclining chair set next to a table holding a small stack of books and an ashtray. All of this would lie before a fireplace containing a lit log.

    KIMIKO would see a childish drawing of three stick figures, their hands linked, superimposed over a brilliant, swirling sun. The figure in the second is notably shorter than the two beside it.

    PRISCILLA would see an immaculate castle lain underneath a golden-amber sky. The castle rests amongst the spires and risen walkways of a city that would appear as hauntingly familiar as the stained glass at the castle's fore, and the every half-chevron ark that links the pillars of the building proper.

    HOMURA would see an image drawn in a similarly childish style to the one seen by Kimiko, but this would instead depict only two figures. They stand amid an infinitely large field of green that the girl would know to spread well beyond what she can resolve on the page, the figure with pink hair hugging the one with black around their neck in a way that she would somehow understand to be exuberant.

    FARUJA would see a wonderfully crafted sketch of Ivalice during a festival time, several Burmecians -- anthropomorphic, mouselike creatures -- gingerly putting their glasses together in cheers. Far in the background lies a church of much distinction and beauty, its denomination marked by an Ajoran Cross rested atop its highest roof.

    And ARTHUR... would see Afterus, floating lazily amid the stars.

    But after seeing these images, not a one of them would see the features of Silent Night about them. Rather, they would find themselves quite alone in worlds both familiar and unfamiliar to them. They might find their dealings over the past few days a bit hazy in their minds, and the dealings of their past months and years reorganized in ways that their addled minds can not yet put together into a coherent format. Still, they would recall their names, their feelings,

    and of course, their desires.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    ERYL would look up to see a beautiful, cyan sky, the warmth of the sun seeping deep into his flesh. And he would see skyscrapers, countless numbers of them, rising in the distance to meet the morning. It would appear that he had been walking on a long, stretching concrete path that leads to that metropolis, far and away from the beautiful green hill that lies behind him.

    PSYBER would find himself in a place not at all unlike the Heaven or Hell tower, behind a desk. The desk is neat and proper, an ash tray at its corner, and there is a handwritten note here, most of its contents obscured by the coffee mug keeping it in place.

    KIMIKO would find herself in a clean, prim place as well, but her area is a bit more domestic. She would find herself in bed, looking out a window above her dresser at a street. All of this would likely be accompanied by an eerie deja vu.

    PRISCILLA would also find herself in a bedroom, sized in such a way that would make her feel small even in her true form. She is seated before a vanity, her hair done in an elegant Celtic knot, makeup clearly decorating her cheeks and eyes. There's a knocking at the door, and a voice from beyond requests entry.

    HOMURA would find herself at a desk, a book opened before her. Should she look around she would notice that she is on one of the higher tiers of a series of staged seats that wrap around the room, perfectly in the Socratic format shared by many universities. She might not be able to resolve what's written on the board just yet, or even recall the subject of the class she's currently in, but she might notice the absence of her soul gem on the back of her hand, and a fleck of pink hair that would flutter before her eyes as the person next to her raises their hand. Is... that...?

    FARUJA would find himself seated in a pew during a fairly typical-seeming mass. Only, things look awfully festive -- there are elegant, shimmering banners hung all around, and he would immediately notice that there are some awfully high-profile people beside him. Cardinals and Bishops of the order from the world over sit beside him, their attentions fixed on the speaker. This person, incidentally, would happen to be the High Confessor Funebris himself.

    Finally, ARTHUR would find himself suspended above Afterus. Something is very, -very- wrong, though -- he can't feel the space around him at all, and if he tried, he likely wouldn't have access to any of his normal powers. Also, his body, still clad in his God-tier robes, would appear oddly translucent. This leaves him to meander closer to the planet beyond, or to explore any of the six corridors of blinding light gathered around him. But it is worth noting that he, more than any other, would likely experience some trouble remembering recent happenings. In fact, he can barely remember anything at all! This would leave him with a bizarre lightness of personality that would likely feel entirely misplaced and jumbled in his own head. Still, he would at least recall that there are others here with him, and people he needs to see. And bizarrely, he would know which person each of those corridors of light links to from pure intuition.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko gives Homura a lingering glance. She turns away before responding. "It's one thing, to resist a temptation, because your conviction is greater. It's another, to be faced with the same, but have the memory of your reason for fighting taken from you. If this is... that sort of battle, it will be a difficult one." Still. It's true they've each seen their share of warped realities.

    Kimiko looks a trifle confused as Mizuki answers Psyber. Preconceptions? Specifically, Mizuki's preconceptions? She does not quite come out and ask what that could be referring to--partly for the sake of not long continuing a subject that so clearly makes their host uncomfortable.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Truth told, even with the ace in his sleeve that Apathy gave him, Psyber was still pretty nervous going into this. He lets his face fall into a scowl as he thinks. His own mind was a mess and he does not look forward to encountering what cage his own self-conscious can build for him under the pretense of heaven. And particularly scared of what Mizuki may really think of him coming up.

    Still, he sets his jaw and gives her a firm nod, "I'm ready to go," He notes, looking towards Homura and adding, "If you need me, I'll find a way to come help. Just gimme a signal or something." There's a reason he says this to her specifically, beyond the obvious ones. He then places his hands in the pockets of his jacket and lets out a heavy sigh.

    But then we're entering a dreamworld. Or rather, a Heaven.

    At his desk, Psyber sighs a bit and leans back, "Aaah, what is this?" He wonders, looking around. He taps a cigarette, placing some ash into the tray in front of him. He rolls his neck to the side to pop it, as if sore and tired from something.

    Setting down his cigarette, he moves the mug aside to read the note on his desk. It's probably from someone important.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja can't help return Mizuki's smile. "We art all going to need it, methinks." Then he approaches the book, smile weakening as he spies what's upon it. Teeth grit, and he briefly turns away to wipe away a tear. The Inquisitor had thought it would be far less personal. The image strikes at his heart even as he gazes.

It hits far too close to home before the Burmecian is swallowed up into his own dream.

~Dream Ivalice~

There's a blink, and Faruja can't help but rub his head. Everything is /hazy/. Memories flit about, others fading to dust as the rat stares at the pew in front of him mournfully.

Before he can ruminate /too/ much longer, one of his high-ranking compatriots elbows him, and flashes a smile. There's lightly chastising words about taverns and lush rodents. Faruja, with a sigh of amusement and annoyance, can't help but smile.

Only to straighten his robes, sit ramrod straight, and run a clawed hand through his hair. Even an Inquisitor doesn't look slovenly before High Confessor Funebris. The young ratling's gaze is set upon the elderly, white-bearded man with rapt attention. There are few who could command his respect so much as its leader, seemingly free of corruption at all turns. A hand clasps his cross, and the other briefly searches for a holy tract, just to look the part as much as possible. He's likely not the only one.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Then, it begins. Kimiko has the barest moment with which to process the picture. She'd already had her suspicions, so that moment is all it takes. Whether she can hold onto that understanding, however...

    She sits up. Though it's fair to say that she's slow to begin moving in most situations, she prefers her mornings started early and quickly, as a few others in Mitakihara might know. Covers thrown off, feet on the floor, checking what she went to bed in and changing into something else. It's all fairly automatic, driven by long reflex, though she has to stop herself to think, 'is it a school day?' She spent a long time not going to school, until a certain student council president helped her out, so that part is rather--

    Wait. Why was she out of school? Her mind works on that question, instead, while she looks in the closet.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    I will heed your warning," Homura answers Mizuki, not dismissive or rude, even if she sounds confident. "But this is my specialty. Forget time, and fighting monsters; my life has been dedicated to thinking about how to make things right and break the present until it fit my vision." Not that she's had any success. No, really, Madoka won in the end. Homura was just... an enabler, but not a moving force. "I will do my best to break this dream into shape as well and help retrieve your number. There is nowhere I would rather be than in my current life," she says, lying to herself as much as to others, "And so I don't fear whatever it may bring to bear."

    She watches as the book opens; the contents of the pages doesn't surprise her. She's got this. She's certain. That's because Homura is an extremely selfish liar, one that convinced herself it was true she didn't desire anything else in life, and who wouldn't ever admit she's still unhappy about the resolution.

    Her answers, really, go for Kimiko and Psyber too.

    ~TIME FOR HEAVEN, THOUGH~

    Right, university. She's still dealing with that. Second semester, right...? What was it she studied. Probably something mundane and boring by Multiversal standards, but high profile. Business and administration, no doubt. Just like Madoka's bother. Well, she'd said a few times that Homura reminded her of herself when young, so it's not surprising.

    The pink hair catches her attention, and the black-haired girl turns to face her classmate. She probably looks like she's just woken up from a nap, due to the transition. Did she fall asleep in class? What a pain.

    What she says (well, whispers, due to being in a classroom) comes naturally though. "H-Hey, if you need help with something you can just ask me, you know?" Nevermind that she does not fully remember what class they're in right now. It's fine, drowsiness wears off eventually.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur gives a quick, serious nod to Mizuki. It looks like he's definitely going to take this carefully, in his own way. He just can't bear to actually really display hesitation or caution. He crosses his arms, standing dramatically as he can in the swirling torrent of literature.

    An entertaining fact about Arthur Lowell: As a guy who has one foot in the realm of death and dreams at all times, this specific type of magic is one he is /extremely/ vulnerable to, leaving him unable to resist the emptying of his mind of thoughts. And yet, the urge to wander around fits here. Arthur takes the path to HOMURA, drifting idly, easygoing, weightless and pleasant. His usual BLUSTERY INTENSITY has left him, and instead he has a sort of light, positive happiness for reasons he can't precisely put his finger on, now that he doesn't have to strain himself to act cool all the time.

    He has selected the HOMURA path by pure whim, just picking at random. Let's see how this system works.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl was considering explaining that it seemed that Mizuki needed cheering. That it seemed like she was scared of losing those she cares about, even if she doesn't want to admit that she cares. But, she seems the sort that would become more defensive against such claims, so he simply acknowledges her warnings with another bow of the head. "I will take the greatest care."

     When the book seems to explode, he covers his eyes. For a brief instant, he wondered if a headache might have actually helped him shrug off his 'Heaven.' As for what it will likely be... Eryl is a man with a clear path in life, so he has an equally clear idea in mind as to what it might be. Whether that will help or harm him though...

     His eyes taken in the pink flower, the corners of his mouth lowering slightly. "Wha-"

     And then Heaven has him.

     He looks around, taking in the gorgeous sky, untainted by dust clouds. The buildings, pointing heavenwards once more. Turning around, he sees the hill, covered in greenery that was once lost. The world has been revived. All is well.

     Except...

     Why is his head so murky? His implants should be keeping him focussed at all times. His sense of time is also muddled, something his implants should be regulating. Something is wrong here...

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    PSYBER's note would unfold easily for him. It's short, and crude, but its contents are basically the following:

    Hey, Psyber,

    I just wanted to let you know how much the school -- and I -- appreciate everything you do. I bet you would be surprised just how many students ask to have you, and how many more take your courses just to hear you talk. Still, I want you to have a nice week off, alright? You've earned it, seriously. I'll be available if you need someone to go to lunch with, but I'm guessing you won't -- you have people for that sort of thing, right? Don't be afraid to gimme a buzz, though."

    (P.S.: Someone else wanted to say hi and thank you, too. 'Elliana' I think her name was? She told me to tell you to go to 'the usual place'. Not entirely sure what she meant by that, but you would probably know better than I would.)

    Have a good one,

    S.

    Where exactly this 'usual place' was might elude him for a moment, too, but after thinking it over a place might resolve in his mind: The Angel's Whisper. It's a cafe downtown where he sometimes meets people after work, or so he seems to recall. That's probably what she meant.

Priscilla has posed:
    And her true form it is. Priscilla has no need of sizing herself to interact with humans. Why should she? Height is a symbol of status, and there aren't more than a few dozen humans around anyways.

    Right?

    She thinks so at least. It seems obvious enough. The human population of Anor Londo is relatively small, and the number allowed to make their home in the castle is proportionally even smaller. She's never really thought about it before. It feels as if there should be more. A lot more. Yet, no matter how she thinks of it, there isn't any reason for that to be true. She clearly remembers these facts.

    They are real memories, from centuries ago. Unbeknownst to her, they've been extrapolated; copied and pasted with minor variations to simulate a full childhood, but everything around her is drawn from a core of incontrovertable truth. Thus, the illusion is only more insidious.

    Lost in introspection as to why she expected more humans around, she startles slightly at the knock on the door, taking a moment to examine herself in front of the mirror to make sure she's presentable; flattening down the fine white and gold that hangs from her body, only to feel faintly perplexed by the feeling of silk rather than furs. Doing her best to ignore it, she turns from the mirror and speaks to the door. "Thou hast permission to enter."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber smiles a bit. He had great students, it's true. For some reason, it takes him a few moments to remember what he teaches. He struggles with that before it hits him: Criminology, that's right. What else would a ex-cop teach? To think he'd be retired so young, too. But they gave him full benefits after that fiasco with the domestic terrorists a few years back, so now he lived a quiet life. Hero Cop, retired before 30. Lives in a suburb, collects a pension, teaches as a hobby. As he thinks about it, a hand comes up and rubs a scar on his back from that incident.

    He keeps smiling and shakes his head as he reads the note. S, though. Gosh, who was that again? His brain tries to recall.

    Ah well, it'll come to him. He folds the note up and stands, stretching a bit. He picks up his underarm holster and straps it on, pulling a peacoat on over it. If Ell wanted to meet him, he really oughta get going.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    FARUJA would not have very long before he's requested to stand, again by the High Confessor himself. "All rise! Let us pray." An effectual pause would be given. "We gather today in your name, O' Lord, so that we may better serve you and join together in singing praises of your name. We thank you for love, the companionship of our fellow clergymen and churchgoers, the beauty of the world around us, and for graciously giving unto us each the time to enjoy these fruits of our faith. Never could our words do you justice, Lord, and we must admit our sins to you this eve as well. For with each blessing we have are given, we have disregarded many, and have failed to recognize your generosity. Beyond this, we have allowed ourselves to want and hate in your presence, and for each of these misdeeds, we beg your forgiveness. Please, O' Lord, shed your mercy upon your children. Amen."

    He would continue, his face... actually resolving into a smile after he clears his throat. "Now," He would look over in Faruja's direction. No -- directly /at/ him. "there is someone else we have gathered here today to thank. And that man is -High- Inquisitor Faruja Senra who, through his skills, dedication to faith, kindness, and wherewithal, played a pivotal role in purifying our Church these past few years. We seek to celebrate him, and his promotion. So now I present him to you, my friends, so that you, too, may make our love of him known." With this, he would begin to clap, waiting at the podium until Faruja makes his way over.

    Poor Faruja is probably shaking too fiercely to move right now, let alone speak, but alas.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    KIMIKO would likely answer her own question with a glance at her clock. It's the early morning, a few moments before she would typically get up to go to school. It would appear she has a surplus of time this morning with which to prepare -- she is wearing her pajamas, likely -- and to finish any homework she might've forgotten. Her backpack, too, is in a corner of the room beside her door. Speaking of her door, a hand would gently yet loudly rap against it as a voice -- firm and masculine, but imbued also with a sort of tenderness -- would pulse through her room.

    "Kimiko. It's time for you to be getting up, if you aren't." He would give another few knocks if he doesn't receive a response, though otherwise he would move on to attend to his own morning routine.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Back with HOMURA, the girl with the pink hair would ask her question. Something that, given Homura's experience, would lead her to believe that this is a course specifically focused on Quantitative Methods. So, yes -- business. The girl would sit down once she's received her answer, likely with the same warm, radiant expression Homura had come to know her for. Even though she looks older -- wait, older? That's a funny thing to think since she probably saw her yesterday -- but this is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Madoka. As soon as she sits down, she would share that happy expression with the girl beside her.

    "Oh, I know! He was just going so fast, I wanted to make sure everyone else got it, too. I think the explanation was better the second time around, anyway!" She would hesitate a moment before turning to face the teacher again, though. "Y'know..." She would poke her fingers together. "Seeing you wear your hair that way sorta reminds me of when we were in High School. Things were way different back then, and school wasn't as hard... but I think I'm still happy to be where I am. And I'm even happier that you're here with me, Homura! It really surprised me that you picked the same major. You didn't do that just so you could go to class with me, right?" She's obviously teasing here, and makes this known with a quick poke on her cheek, and by sticking her tongue out ever-so-briefly.

    And then she would turn back around to face the teacher, beginning to take notes again. To herself, she might mumble, "Just kidding. It'd be pretty cute if you did, though..."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    ARTHUR, incidentally, would find himself in the same auditorium as Homura. He looks rather different, though: he's clad in a collared white shirt and tan pants, several pens hung from his pocket. He can tell with a glance at his bangs that his hair is more light brown than black, and he might even be wearing glasses. Suffice it to say, he is certainly not himself -- rather, he's become a student here. Probably better that he blends in, though, at least.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    There is, naturally, only one person who could possibly calling for Kimiko like that. She's no uncles, and no brothers, elder or otherwise.

    "I'm already up, father." What she pulls from the closet is a high school uniform. She stares at for a few moments before moving to put it on. According to the clock, she still has time. How unusual for her to be this slow in the morning, though how like her father to insist she have that much of a buffer for being on time.

    Perhaps she had stayed up too late. That would explain the difficulty she has remembering whether her work is done. Time enough for her to check that, and get her things ready. It's only when her school bag is packed that she opens the door, to go downstairs--downstairs? Right, the kitchen is downstairs.

    "I'm coming down, now." She really must be sleepy, as her voice doesn't sound quite right. She clears her throat. She'd definitely sound strange, talking to her own parents in that kind of cool, standoffish tone.

    Can't be /that/ much time before school. Best to get down and have breakfast right away. It doesn't hurt to be a little early, even then.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    "A-Ah... n-no, of course not," Homura manages, recalling perfectly well why she picked this course. She doesn't quite remember the context of the discussion, but she remembers Madoka once said what she's looking for in a person is someone who's like her mother. It was kind of a coincidence when her mother then went on to say Homura reminded her of a younger her, but... well.

    Ah, and, math always came easy to her anyway.
    She's good at reading people, too.
    Good at micromanaging time. Doesn't remember why though.

    What's more fitting than going into business?

    "But I'm happy I did anyway. G-Geez, that's so like you though, asking something for the benefit of the class. A little bit of selfishness is okay, you know?" That's a familiar tune. Deja vu? Probably because she says that to her every once in a while. That'd have to be it.

    Her hair's loose, which is unusual lately. She usually ponytails it up for class, or sidetails it, or buns it up... seems to depend on her mood a lot. But loose? Bit rarer. "Do you really prefer it like this? I don't mind... doing this every day, if you do." Being this passive sure is odd, but not for this one person.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    As for ERYL, the small incongruities plaguing his mind are quick to resolve. The world becomes more crisp, and his sense of time would clarify itself almost immediately. It's later in the week, he knows, and it's Springtime. He might feel like there's something he needs to be doing -- and really, there always is -- but right now, he's on the first break he's had since the land was restored. ReGenesis, with the data Eryl collected, was able to repair things in just a little under two human lifetimes. Due to his role in the whole thing, Eryl has been well taken care of since, his every need carefully tended so that he may share his knowledge and experience with the world. That was his mission, now, really: to live with the memory of what the world had been like and what he had done so that he could prevent it from falling to ruin ever again.

    But in that 'goal', there was a large amount of freedom. Today, he was simply walking along this long path to appreciate just how much his world had changed. How beautiful it had become. ReGenesis lets him do pretty much anything his heart desires, for the most part, which might constitute helping people with miscellaneous tasks on a normal day, but today, equates to some well-earned relaxation.

    Suddenly, though, a small girl with platinum blond hair and a clad in a flowing white dress would come, seemingly out of nowhere, and hold a flower up to him. "Mister Eryl, Mister Eryl!" She's beaming. "This is for you~! I just wanted to thank you again for helping us cook dinner during the holidays. You're really as nice as people say, you really are!"

    Enough to break his heart.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja finds that headache banished as the High Confessor calls all to rise. Out of what peripheral vision he possesses, he manages to rise nearly as one with the line of Church luminaries seated beside him. Once so, he feels far smaller than usual. Set beside those he's so admired, or have heard stories of, only to be given prayer by a man he hardly feels worthy of being within the same building with.

Faruja's eye closes, cross clasped. His own voice adds to the chorus of 'Amen's. His, perhaps, just a bit more warmly and in relief than the others. After all, was the world now not better?

But the High Confessor manages to shatter that long-sought inner peace with but a stare and a few words. Him. Being thanked. For what? That haze rises once again, only to recede.

Faruja's red eye widens just a touch as forced memory dawns. Brought to 'reality' with a decidedly warm splash of water, he barely avoids standing on his tip-claws in looking stately and /worthy/ yet still humble as he's lavished with praise.

Those purifying, often far too dark days flash in his memories, details a blurr, but feeling all too real. It lends a certain seriousness to his expression that more than one of his fellows take for rememberance of hardship. For such a feat? No doubt true.

Worst of all, he's now the center of attention. For someone so well versed in preaching, and statecraft, being /personally/ honored is not something he's taken well to accepting. Like the first time he walked to such a podium, every step that Faruja shuffles out feels leaden.

But he makes it there. His hands shake, his fur is on end, but he makes it without tripping or overly stumbling though it takes leaning on his cane to near breaking to do.

The image might only lend credence to assumed dream experiences, for the phantasmal audience and himself. Silently, he looks over the crowd as he takes his place, only to kneel before the High Confessor.

"Lord Confessor, I am unworthy of the presence of one so close to Holy Faram. May His Wisdom ever shine forth from thee." His words are soft, but enough to fill the hall before he again rises.

He tries to speak, but his throat catches. A smile graces his face, slightly somber, and head slightly bowed. Only when it clears and the clapping pauses, does he manage to speak.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Faith, I fear I cannot outdo our most vaunted of leaders, nor shall I attempt such folly in vainglory. As ever, I simply wish ye all Faith and prosperity. A prosperity that hath all too shortly a time ago fallen upon us." Something about the Confessor's words strike him. Something very, slightly odd. But his brain cannot quite put it to the fore. A pause, and the rat continues.

"Though I may be aught but a simple servant of the Lord, nor shall I turn away such praise and love from thee. For love, of and by Faram, Man, and unity as Ivalicians...nay, over this entire world hath we finally come to this point. I hath played mine part in these long years of strife, corruption, and war, and the honors heaped before me art fit to reduce me to tears. Generosity and love ye show me, and this I return! For in this position so gracefully bestowed shall I strive until mine dying breath to extend the purity and Miracles granted us, the Kingdom of Heaven upon this world, until such shines from every corner of those beyond! For our lowly works of mortal hath been risen up by our Faith and our toil, and set free to see that NONE shall be ignorant of the Word of the Lord, that they too may find worlds free of the chaos of faithlessness and strife! Faram be praised!"

The dream is a most devilish one indeed, as the Inquisitor finally gives voice to his desires true. For the moment, he is lost within...except for the smallest of twitches to his ear, a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind he can't quite make go away.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The person on the other side of PRISCILLA'S door would thank her in a soft, demure voice before turning the knob and allowing themselves entry. The form that makes their way in is a fairly tiny presence, stepping through a smaller door lain within the one Priscilla would use for human manipulation. The woman, clad in a ruffled dress and apron, would immediately proclaim her purpose in coming her. "Milady Priscilla, I hath arrived to tend your room whilst you are out with the Lady Gwynevere. In truth, I had believed thou wouldst have left some time before now. Please forgive me if I am intruding upon thine graces and privacy." With that, she would curtsy, facing her fully for the first time. And when she does, oh do her eyes dart open. "-- ah."

    The woman would immediately begin to blush. "Th-Thou wouldst grant me pardon, milady. I hath not been privy to the splendor of royalty many times, and..." She would bow again, immediately falling silent and going to do what she had come to. Meanwhile, Priscilla would likely deem herself fit for departure now, only... there's something missing. On her vanity she would find a sort of decorative headband wrought from platinum -- an ornament she frequently wore in lieu of a tiara. Either way, she really shouldn't keep mother waiting. It's not often that they have opportunities to themselves like this.

    Though some feeling may ping in her mind. Something painful. She would likely not know where in the world it had come from, though.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl blinks, giving his head a little shake. That was... odd. Are his implants starting to break down? No, no way. ReGenesis engineering is the best in the world. Maybe it was just a glitch; maybe he's just more tired than he let on. After all, he's almost a tri-centenarian now. He can be forgiven for losing the plot now and again. He resolves to swing by ReGenesis sometime though, to get that checked out.

     Looking around again with a clearer head, an easy smile graces his face. It's amazing what can be done in two lifetimes. Below his feet, he knows that GARDEN is thriving, ensuring that the ground is ever-fertile. Every inch of the buildings he can see are absorbing light from the sun and converting it into usable energy.

     He thinks back on all the people whose lives he improved, their names and faces permanently etched in his brain. From major things like performing surgery to remove an inflamed appendix based only on a textbook on the matter, to helping plants a row of tulips...

     Ah, but speaking of flowers, someone is approaching with one. He kneels down to look the girl-Elena, he recalls-in the eye and grins. When she offers the flower and talks about how nice he is, well. Even with his implants keeping him in check, his eyes get a little misty. Taking the flower, he tucks it behind his ear and smiles. "I do my best, Miss Elena. And you are quite welcome." Gently ruffling her hair, he bids her farewell and continues along the path into the city proper.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur has injected himself into Homura's Heaven. All he can most vaguely remember is that he had something he was supposed to do with Homura, something he needed to see her for. But he has plenty of time. The rather intellectual fellow isn't in a hurry, for some reason he understands that there's essentially a lifetime to get done what he needs to get done.

    He's going to attempt to fast-forward things. Wait until the end of class, when people are mostly dispersing. How does this go? He's not... not entirely sure. But he has some vague feeling... Assuming he can wait out their girlish discussion. Once class ends, the move needs to be made. Arthur stands, and walks in a way that's a little outside his norms, a much more reserved and deliberate sort of walk. Then he gets to where Madoka and Homura are sitting. "Miss Madoka Kaname." He says, in a soft and somewhat emotionless tone. "You are familiar with the health center here, are you not?" His head tilts a little. "May I ask you to accompany me? To th health center, that is."

    Somewhere, deeper in his rather intelligent mind, he's intentionally going for Madoka to have Homura leap to assist in lieu of her, offering to guide Arthur, this unusual transfer student, instead of leaving Madoka alone with him. Presumably she'll be doing that. Arthur still... Doesn't really know what the purpose of what he's doing is, but he feels the need to go after it.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    For some reason, Psyber would likely have a great deal of trouble recalling the name of this 'S' character. Were they another student? Nah, based on the context of the note they were probably another faculty member. Ah -- wait. There, he has it: they teach Forensic Psychology and Neurology, and their subject's closeness to Psyber's often leads them to a plethora of involved discussions about the topics associated with each. But when the 'S' person wasn't bitching them out about their smoking habits, they were actually a pretty good... girl, actually. It took a bit to remember because they act so much like a guy, at times, but they're definitely a girl. Might remind him of someone else he knows, but he would also immediately be able to tell that this note didn't come from Amalthea.

    Still, with all he's able to remember about them he can't think of a /name/. That's a pretty severe brain lapse.

    Though down Psyber goes from his upscale apartment. He's on the seventh floor -- not as bad as some, but it still takes him a while to get to the bottom. When he gets to the lobby, the clerk -- guy's always there, seriously -- would wave him over. "Hey, man! You're goin' out, right? Your car's parked 'round back." If he wants to take it, that is. He could probably get there without it. Either way, the place he's looking for is down the road a ways. In Downtown, sooo... North, and straight on from there.

Priscilla has posed:
    Just a chambermaid. What had Priscilla been so nervous about for just that fraction of an instant? Who knows. She's rarely ever around when the help is; enough that she only knows a handful of them by name; but she should be used to people and coming and going from her room by now. How odd that she had felt, for a moment, an implaceable surge of dread at the idea of someone setting foot in her sacred territory. It's just a room, isn't it? Private as it may be, it isn't her own little world.

    She smiles at the flustered maid, but the gesture comes uneasily. She feels out of practice, as if she didn't completely remember how to perform the expression. "Think nothing of it. I was merely lost in mine own thoughts. In fact, I believeth I shalt thank thee for thine part in making certain that I do not betray the date of mine word." The idea of being late to see her own mother seems unthinkable. The moment Gwynevere's name is mentioned, her heart throbs with a strange rush of emotion, as if overwhelmed by the idea. Had she been away for a long time? It doesn't seem so. Last Priscilla remembers, she had seen her the previous week.

    The series of subtly 'off' cues mingle together into a single, vague sensation. Something she writes off as simply having spaced out for too long and needing to be woken up again. She picks up the headband with the lesser degree of reverence anyone treats an object they are well used to handling, putting it on without really thinking about it. Getting up from her seat, she leaves the maid to her duties, though there will be relatively few of them. She always takes good care of her belongings, and her personal space. She knows that much. Now where had she decided to meet again?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    When KIMIKO gets downstairs, she would see her mother and father seated at a dinnertable, the too-bright light of the sun practically bursting through the windows. Her father would pause from raising a cup of coffee to his lips to glance over. It's a curious look, but he says nothing -- probably his vague way of calling attention to the oddity of her voice and expression. Kimiko's mother would immediately gesture to her place at the table, to the left. A small tamagoyaki, an omelet, is waiting for her there alongside a cup of miso soup. Only when her daughter is seated would she tilt her head to her subtly and ask, "Is something wrong?"

    Kimiko's father would look up from his food at that. It's somewhat unclear whether he's annoyed that she had asked when they haven't so much time to spare, or if he's simply expectant for a reply, but either way it's clear that he's involved in spite of his silence.

    A quiet would hang over the table after the question is asked, but there isn't... tension, exactly. Confusion, though? Likely quite a bit of that.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Right, S. Nice lady. He always spaces on her full name.

    "Yeah, just headin to the Whisper for some coffee. If anyone calls for me, tell em I'm there," He shoots a pair of fingerguns to the clerk, heading out back. This is a nice life, a relaxed life. Psyber feels content here.

    Plus he's heading out to meet Elliana. That's always a plus when he can do that. Their schedules are so conflicting, it's a rare treat. He'll head to his car and head that way, "I should get some ginko biloba or something. Feel like my memory's getting worse these days. I can't be THAT old as to get senile, though." He murmurs to himself.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    To HOMURA, Madoka would smile after the bell rings. "Oh, um, I like your hair no matter how you wear it! Really, I can't think of one way I would like more than the others, but... hmmm. When you wear your hair in pigtails it makes me feel a little warm inside. It reminds me a lot of when we first met! Remember how --" Speaking of the time they first met, there's another student. A boy that Homura can be certain neither of them knows. Since he's asking where the infirmary is, though, that's probably because he's new here. Madoka would steal a quick glance and a smile at her friend to highlight the similarity before turning to face this student more fully.

    "Oh, do you not know where it is? Of course I can show you!" She would turn to Homura immediately after and say, "Don't worry! I'll be quick. You could come if you want, but I don't wanna make you late for the next class or anything!" She would raise her hand in goodbye, before --

    -- both Homura and Arthur would experience a chilling sensation of vertigo. This would pass quickly for the former, but Arthur would suddenly have his vision clouded by static. His head would erupt into a migraine that is every bit as fleeting as the vision, but he might recall... seeing something. Some -one-. There was a figure, he could've sworn -- some malevolent presence whose eyes bore into him, and who screamed at him without words to leave.

    Immediately.

    Only, he might be at a loss as to what it meant. Madoka would be a few steps ahead of each of them, now, calling over. "Oh, you're still back there? Sorry! I didn't mean to leave you behind or anything..."

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Blush. Homura is at a loss for words on the subject of her hair. Well, almost at a loss for word. "I-I'll braid it tomorrow, if you want. As long as it's for you..." Why would she mind? Of course she wouldn't mind. Madoka could ask her to wear a maid outfit and she would.

    As they prepare to leave the classroom, Homura instinctively touches one of her notebooks and... waits. And waits. No, hang on. That's... not how you put books away? What was she even thinking, that's stupid. She picks her bag up and stuffs the books inside.

    That makes a lot more sense.
    What did she expect, that the book would disappear?

    Meeting Arthur would reveal he knows Homura a fair bit. It's true, she wouldn't let Madoka just... take a random guy to the infirmary. Or anywhere. Not unsupervised. But she also knows Madoka quite well and she knows she would never say no. That's why rather than offer to go instead she just kind of follows along, giving Arthur a wary overprotective (for Madoka) eye the whole time.

    It seems she spaces out a minute, but the feeling subsides quickly. Though that ends up meaning both of them have lagged behind the pink-haired girl. Well, if Madoka is briefly out of whisper earshot...

    "What do you really need? There are maps on the walls every other hallway." Standard university feature! Surely finding the health center wouldn't be that hard.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    And for FARUJA, the entire room would erupt in applause. Even those high Cardinals he had been sitting beside before are giving him praise still. The High Confessor would offer his hand to the Inquisitor -- or High Inquisitor, as it were -- before allowing him to return to his seat. Whilst there, he might discover the identity of one of the people he had been sitting beside before. His old mentor, Sarah Diamonde, is there, and gives him a stalwart nod as he returns to his pew. "I am proud to have been allowed to teach you, Faruja," She would quietly add as he sits down, carefully timed before the sermon continues. She would remain beside him for the remainder of the mass. Until the Confessor finally boldly announces the words: "Go in peace, serve the Lord."

    "Thanks be to God," The masses would reply. Faruja and others would presumably rise, Diamonde offering Faruja a final shake of her hand before she, too, joins the departing. It is not long after, though, that another person approaches. This one is garbed as a Cardinal, too, but their name would, woefully, escape him. 'Sendris', he might recall? Yes. Cardinal Sendris, one whose coronation to his current position was rather recently if he recalls correctly.

    "Greetings, Brother Senra, and congratulations again. I was asked to retrieve you for the post-mass banquet. If you'll please follow me to the Parish Hall." With this, he would bow, beginning to lead him there if he does as Sendris asks.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    "No, nothing's wrong." Kimiko says that automatically, shaking her head, and only giving the question more thought once she's seated and begun to eat. Is anything wrong? Her parents are here--but of course they are, as there's nowhere else they'd be, this early in the morning. Something at school? She was thinking about school earlier, but can't recall what was bothering her. Her classmates--she can't seem to recall most of their names. She should have been with them for awhile, now. Certainly long enough that it would be awkward to admit her memory's so hazy, just now.

    She finishes in short order, quietly enough, and likely not being terribly convincing in her earlier statement. "I don't think I slept well. But I'm sure I'll be fine." Staying up late isn't like her, either. Maybe it was a bad dream. Yes, that seems a likely explanation. She can't remember what it could have been about, though.

    She looks up, and--awkwardly, as if she hasn't made this expression in years, smiles at her mother.

    "Thank you for the food." No, still too formal. But she hasn't had miso like that in--since yesterday. It was just yesterday.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "That's SElena, Mister Eryl!" She giggles. "But I don't blame you for forgetting! You must know a lot of people, huh?" That's score two for these strange anomalies in his thought processes. Having his vision and memory feel somewhat foggy was one thing, but here he forgot a /name/? That seems almost outside the realm of probability. Really, unless she's just messing around with him, he might want to go check in with ReGenesis soon after all. That could be bad.

    Ah, but for now he continues down the path. Did he have anything on the agenda for today? If he didn't, it might be a good time to get in touch with an operative. They're all over the world now, right? Especially considering their role in bringing the world back from the brink, they likely have offices in every city. Might not be a bad idea if he doesn't have anything else in mind...

    ... but ah, that Selena girl doesn't seem to want to leave him alone. It seems she's been following him for some time, and as he nears the border of the city, she would tug on one of his sleeves. "Mister Eryl, Mister Eryl!" Selena would smile. "I had something else I wanted to show you! It's really pretty! Please? You're not too busy, are you? it's really close, I promise!" She would fold her arms behind her back with that, swaying and looking all kinds of expectant.

    She's not gonna leave him alone no matter what he says, is she?

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur is deeply vulnerable to dream magic. As such, he near keels over, a moment, only using his second nature habits of keeping his cool to prevent himself from falling. "R-right..." He needs to get out of here soon. Make a quick jump to the next area. Something in his mind is yelling at him to.

    "It's quite fine." He says, summoning up a more pleasant exterior as he replies up ahead. And then, he... doesn't seem to answer. There's a bit of a scared look in his eyes, something he just saw... "Homura Akemi." He breathes heavily, for a moment as he whispers. Instead of trying to figure out what he's supposed to do, he lets the Heaven take for a moment, and tries to articulate his strange feelings through it. "Do you treasure the life you currently live? Or do you consider your family and friends precious?" Why are those mutually exclusive? He can't seem to remember, exactly. "Homura, I don't... Understand, precisely. But there's something here. This isn't... Right, and there's something here that's after us, and I was supposed to go see you. Not after Madoka. Just us." His migrane and vertigo give him a little more disorientation that he needs to clear from his head.

    "I think she'll be, maybe you'll be, in more danger if I'm around. I can't tell, I can't remember right. I'm going to go." He says. He needs to jump Heavens again, before that malevolence manages to catch him again. "You need to be careful." He's hopefully going to get to the medical center shortly, where Homura and Madoka will split off from him. He's gonna try to jump to another Heaven, to throw off the warden's eye a bit. Another bit of whim, let's pick... Eryl's heven. Assuming circumstances will permit the escape.

Faruja (152) has posed:
It's a most /interesting/ shade of pink that Faruja's ears have taken on as he not only shakes the hand of the High Confessor (firmly!) but he too is praised by the woman who almost singlehandedly made him who he now is. For a moment, he feels woozy, and only the solid oak of the podium keeps him from a most embarrassing collapse.

"The honor hath, as ever, been mine, Sarah. Ye know better than anyone where I wouldst be without ye." There's a small nod in return, before he's bidden sit, applause and praise ringing in his ears almost painfully.

A Cardinal. The now High Inquisitor hunts his brain for a new. Right. Sendris. Newly given rank. Some part of him remembers a service, details a blurr and half forgotten. The rodent makes a mental note to visit a White Mage after this.

Gathering what part of his brain /wasn't/ crushed with paise and desire for a better future for worlds beyond at the podium, it's a winning smile that the Cardinal is greeted with.

"Ahh, Brother Sendris! Please, I wouldst be most delighted! One gets a touch peckish after these gathers, doth ye not agree?" Pleasant small talk for the walk after a returned bow.

"Pray forgive, what city art ye residing over? With the traitors router, and pick up the pieces as it were, I hath not had a moment to see where we stand politically. Though I suppose 'tis hardly necessary to be so paranoid these days, but old habits and the perishing of, and all!"

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Though his face remains passive, a jolt of fear runs through Eryl when the girl corrects him on her name. There is no way that he should be forgetting something like that. Is he finally starting to break down? ReGenesis's projections on his lifespan were all estimates, with no past cases to draw on. Were they wrong?

     He quickly apologized to the girl and carried on, preoccupied with the prospect of his mortality. Well... ever if he was going to die, it wasn't a bad life, was it? Besides, maybe it's nothing, just a minor bug. Better bump up that check-in, just in case though. He continues along the path, trying to put it out of his mind until he knows something for sure. One should not let their fears rule the ability to appreciate... just, everything.

     Indeed, ReGenesis has offices all over now. However, they no longer have a role in running things. Once the world was revived, they stepped down and let a proper government be established. He makes his way towards one, thinking more on all the things that have happened. So many have died, both locally and Multiversally. Of course, some like him are long lived, but there are still mortals who have passed on long ago, several generations of Elites who passed into history...

     Although, it almost feels like he saw some of them recently. Faruja, for example. Like it was only minutes ago... he shakes his head, feeling another jolt of fear at the prospect of breaking down. But, El-Selena is following him, demanding his attention. He chuckles and turns to smile at her, shaking his head. He really had no reason to say no. Baseless fears on something that might just need simple maintenance. "No, not really Miss Selena. Go ahead, lead the way."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    PRISCILLA would recall that she had decided to meet with Gwynevere in her quarters, past the room that was the frequent haunt of the warriors Ornstein and Smough. She claimed it was because she believed she would take longer to be ready, and that Priscilla would be just as well off coming to her as she would be waiting by the doors of the palace or some other such thing. So in all likelihood Priscilla would take it upon herself to weave out of her room and to the front of the castle where she may have access to said chamber.

    Though as she meanders through the many rooms of the palace, she would quickly begin to notice something: it's far too bright. So bright that it might grate at her eyes, really, but she may not recall why this was. This was the Capital of the Gods, was it not? And by extension, a place where the flames of life burned brightest. Yet, the sheer -intensity- of this brightness may catch her quite off-guard. Curious.

    Assuming she arrives in Gwynevere's chamber somewhere thereafter, she would find the woman -- her mother -- standing before her seat. She would be clad in her typical, flowing, beautiful robes, her hair allowed to flowy freely beneath a veil. Priscilla might actually been done up -more- skillfully than she, but it's unlikely anyone is going to nitpick -- it's just a simple outing, after all.

    But, to where? Gwynevere would answer this soon enough. "Ahh, Priscilla. Thou doth grow sweeter and more fair with each passing sunrise." Her smile is filled with a sort of care and concern that may well make the girl shiver. "But ah, we had best not squander the day with praises of one another. 'Tis a rare thing, when it is ours to possess such times of solitude with one another, and happiness. So many affairs that pull at us from all directions and keep thine from my embrace." She would open her arms and gingerly hug the halfbreed. This gesture would hold for some moments, and certainly enough to 'traumatize' whatever of her phantom mind still lingers.

    "Such a wonderful princess thine hast grown to be, Priscilla. Such a world this one shall be under thine judgment, but until that day is upon us, cherish thine youth."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    PSYBER would, as he gets into his car, notice something unnerving on the seat opposite the driver's side: a gun. The thing stands out incredibly, and in all likelihood he would have no idea at all why it's there. He hasn't had any reason to -hold- are firearm for years, let alone -use- one, so why...? Ah, whatever. Maybe he was feeling paranoid one day and wanted to keep it around for self-defense purposes.

    But whatever the case, Elliana. As he fires up the ignition, he would recall some things about her. If he recalls correctly, she had... tricked him into helping her steal the power of a demon? ... naaahh, that sounds like a joke, and an especially shitty one at that. More like... she worked in his company, for a while. She stole some documents and gave them to another business for a profit and worked with them for a while. Their relationship was pretty strained for a while -- especially with Nathan insisting that she was exactly the kind of duplicitous lowlife Psyber shouldn't be spending his time around -- but eventually, they reconciled. What's more, he actually convinced her to send a letter of apology to the chairperson where she used to work. Sure, it wasn't easy, but that's kinda his schtick -- getting through to people in ways nobody else can. Makes the whole teaching thing go a lot more smoothly, really.

    On his way, he would stop at a light. The 'S' individual would text him again: 'When does Homura graduate again? I know it's some time this year and I want to be there'. This lady knows Homura, too? Huh.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    KIMIKO'S mother would gingerly nod as she claims to be fine, but would only really appear convinced when that smile comes to her face. She would smile in kind, nodding along. "I'm sure, too." Her father would still be watching, here, and would give a faint nod should Kimiko look his way. Even he might smile, here, though it's a bit less obvious. It seems like they were both worried. As everyone finishes eating, Kimiko's mother would fetch the china and cutlery, setting them all by the sink. Kimiko's father would rise from his seat and make his way to the door, but her mother, before she can get away, would brush some hair out of her face and give her a small kiss on the forehead. "Have a good day in school, okay?"

    "Try hard," Her father would call from the door, giving a final nod before he makes his way out. Then her mother would usher her outside. She would likely have an instinct to go right and follow the street from here -- she did go there almost every day, after all.

    It's... probably not the time since she really needs to get moving, but that must have been one incredible nightmare. She's -still- kinda stiff.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    The answer to the gun was simple: Cops, even ex-cops, get permits and carry weapons. No matter how far out of the game you are, someone might get out of jail and come for you. So he had the gun. He usually kept it in the glove compartment or under his jacket, though. That's strange.

    He, in fact, distinctly remembered putting on his holster under his jacket before he left the office. And the gun was there. But when he looks under his jacket, the spot where the gun goes is empty. Spare clips are there, though. He frowns a bit and reaches towards the pistol before his phone buzzes.

    Incredibly illegal, and he should probably arrest himself, but the ex-cop texts at a light. HOMURA, right. His daughter. To the best his recollection, he adopted her after... something. Crime scene? Accident? It slips his mind at the moment.

    He gets out his phone to TEXT HOMURA:

<Hey sport. S wants to know when your graduation is. June, right?>

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    HOMURA and ARTHUR would be approached again by Madoka, who is now sporting the most quizzical look of concern. She looks to Arthur, first. "Um... are you okay? You look... a little pale." Her hands clasp at her chest, squeezing together nervously. "I guess that's why you want to go to the medical center, right? Ehehe... but really, we should get you there fast!" And so they do. Madoka swiftly leads them both down the winding halls of the university like the ace student representative she is -- or, was, at least -- giving the mystery student a tentative wave and a gentle sendoff when they reach their destination. "Feel better, okay? And let me know if you'll need to catch up on any lecture notes! I could give you some of mine, if I have the same class, or find someone else who has some!"

    Then she would likely blank for a moment. "Which class was I... supposed to...?" She falls into state of shock for a moment. "OH! Ah, um..." If she could sweatdrop, she would be right now. "... it's actually lunch right now! So we can't really be late for class. And, here!" She would reach into her backpack and give Homura a tiny bento, neatly wrapped in a lavender cloth. "For you!" She would keep a second bento, this one wrapped in a pink cloth, for herself. "I thought it would be nice if I made lunch for us today so we could stay here and study instead of going anywhere. Or we could just talk! Whatever is fine with me~."

    They're gonna have a lot of trouble deciding on doing -anything- if they keep going on like this; seriously, saying 'I want to do whatever you want to do~!' when the other person said the same thing is kinda paradoxical.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko gives a nod, and says, "I'll do my best." She always does. That's the kind of girl she was raised to be.

    It must be getting on, now, so she takes up her bag and goes to the door. She stops there for a moment. There's a feeling that she can almost remember something. Presque vu. Shouldn't she say something? She definitely forgot to say something, last time she saw her parents--last time she left home, that is. That's normal enough, isn't it? "I'm off." You don't normally say more than that, but it's something you have to say.

    That isn't what she wanted to say. There was something else--something she regretted not being able to say. What was it? Tip of the tongue.

    She leaves, holding a hand to her cheek. Jamais vu. A feeling of unfamiliarity with the familiar. Specifically, of experiencing something 'for the first time' when, rationally, one knows that it wasn't the first time. Abnormality seen in normal circumstances.

    The feeling of having a person touch her cheek is at once familiar and wholly alien.

    School. At school, maybe she'll finish waking up. See her friends--she knows she has friends there, if she can remember her names. The quiet, Russian exchange student got along with her surprisingly well. The kendo club advisor was always there to support her, too, as strange as it was to open up to an adult outside her family. A few other faces come to mind--more vaguely than they ought. An elegant upperclassman with ring-curled hair. A pair of rambunctious classmates. They'd be there. Who else...?

    She's uncertain as to why she feels so anxious to find out.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    That sure is ominous. Homura looks at Arthur almost incredulously, although there's that feeling of deja vu again. Where's she heard that speech before? No, she hasn't HEARD it. More like she's said it? But why would she ever say something that grim? She's just a normal girl-- no, wait, she's not. WAIT. Yes she is. Why would she doubt THAT?

    That's ridiculous.

    "How do you know my name? More importantly, do you realize how insane you sound?" Fortunately he's headed to the health center! He can get himself checked there.

    Homura would be lying if she didn't admit he sounds familiar, though. His warning reminds her of something but she can't quite recall. It's probably VERY IMPORTANT. Feels like it is. Maybe she needs some coffee considering she facedesked in class. Might jog her awake. Or her cellphone can bother her.

    She answers Psyber:
    I think so. Who's S again?

    June... isn't that early? She should still be here for a couple of years. Or maybe not. She's pretty spacy today, that's unusual LUNCH AND IT'S FROM MADOKA, JACKPOT!

    "T-Thanks, but you really didn't have to, I..." She reaches into her bag. That awkward moment when you also made lunch for the person who made lunch for you. "I guess we could have two. S-Say... do you feel like today is odd too? And I don't just mean that guy, although he was... really REALLY odd."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    FARUJA would receive a reply from Sendris that is precisely as distinguished and quick as he might've been expecting. "The Clockwork City of Goug. And -- you are, of course, forgiven." They would softly begin to smile as they wrap their hands around the knob of one of the double doors that lead to the parish. "Forgetfulness could never be called a sin in a form so innocuous as it has incarnated here. As you know, I am rather recently ordained, and have yet to rise to any sort of prevalence. Pray that I make a name for myself in the future, perhaps, as you have! But I shall never take offense should my name traipse out of the memories of others."

    With that, the door would swing open to reveal a phenomenal gathering of clergymen. There are seats reserved for the Inquisitors, the Clergy, and the rest, all separated by rank-and-file as they'd ought to be. Faruja and any other Burmecians present to see that the banquet table houses an abundance of two things: cheese, and tea.

    Lots. And lots. Of tea.

    Tea of every flavor and color, of every fragrance and fluidity -- truly, it's a paradise for the connoisseur, and a miracle brought on by Faram Himself that it should all have congealed here, for him! Or perhaps someone just knows his tastes? Ah, and he would find Ainsley here as well, sitting at a special seat in the Inquisitorial Section with a look of profound elation on her face. Their easy acceptance of her presence here is truly indicative of how peaceful the land has become -- that they may have guests even at the most consequential religious gatherings! My, how the world has changed. And Faruja is one of its chief heralds.

    'Isn't it better here'? A voice might whisp. From where, though, Faruja could never say.

Priscilla has posed:
    The unnatural brightness does not go unnoticed by Priscilla, though as soon as she picks up on it, she wonders what exactly is so 'unnatural' about it. Anor Londo is the capital founded by the Lord of Sunlight. Of course it would be bright. The entire divine monarchy of the sun lives here. It wouldn't do for such a magnificent city to receive the weak light of overcast skies. Yet still, she can't shake the feeling. Even lowering her head to look at the floor, the gleaming marble causes her eyes to ache, and to burn faintly when she squeezes them shut. It begins to worry her. She didn't spend enough time shut up in her room to be sensitive to sunlight. At least, she's pretty sure she didn't.

    It is a relief to finally arrive at Gwynevere's chambers, even if it means going through the foyer; thankfully devoid of court for the day. The moment the door opens however, when she lays eyes upon her mother, there is another brief, but overwhelmingly sharp surge of . . . regret? Loneliness? Whatever it is leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, even after the moment has passed. It takes her a second to register the sound of her mother's voice, after which she can immediately feel her face flushing. It feels good just to hear it, even without the compliment.

    "I hath still a long ways to go before I am fit to be compared to thee, mother." She tries to say it in a tongue-in-cheek tone, but she flinches at hearing the strangely needy tone it comes out with. "I will admit mine wishes to see more days like these, childish as they are, but I wouldst never be ungrateful for all the things thou dost for mine own sake. I am old enough now that I can standeth just a little while on mine own~" She gets it better the second time. It was in Gwynevere's nature to worry over her, especially in terms of how much attention she thinks she needs. It's true that their relationship had become a little distant at times after Priscilla had started serious tutoring, but that was all a part of growing up. Her mother would still be around afterward. She'd always be around. She'd never grown old or infirm, and so there would be still be all the time in the world to get to know her as a fellow adult afterward. She should take her mother's advice and cherish her youth.

    Youth? The word sounds innocent enough, but it turns sour almost immediately. A split second wave of overpowering jealousy hits her, drowning out the excitement of growing up with a desperate, nauseating craving return to childhood. In that instant, Priscilla doesn't feel very young. In fact, she feels immeasurably old.

    The warm embrace of her mother should soothe those thoughts, but as Priscilla rests her head against Gwynevere's chest, things only begin to feel more inconsistent. She remembers a time when she was barely up the goddess' waist, and yet strangely she also seems to remember a time when she was able to look her in the eye. The place halfway between that she finds herself in seems unnatural. Only just now does she feel aware of that fact that she's barely a teenager in human years, and only just now does that fact strike her as unsettling.

    She lifts her arms to return her mother's embrace, and finds herself clinging instead; trembling fists clenched around Gwynevere's robes. ". . . what of father?" The question comes out of her mouth before she even thinks about it. She doesn't know why she asked. Seath was a distant figure in her life, and she'd always felt comfortable that way. She didn't dislike him or anything, far from it, but she was already used to his studies taking up all of his days. Why ask now? Obviously the answer would be that he is at the Archives, as usual, and yet she dreads hearing it. Why does the thought of just being in the same city as him make her so uneasy? Why had she asked if she didn't want to hear the answer? Distantly, she feels as if she might have needed to confirm something. To make sure that she had concluded some sort of business with him. The kind that she couldn't be at peace unless she had.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur gets to escape into the medical center, from the looks of things. "Thanks. I'll... Yeah, I'm gonna try to feel better." A quick nod to Madoka, and then a meaningful, urging look to Homura. His face has gone a bit pale. He's gotta get out of here fast, before the warden gets even more antsy. Quickly taking calm steps towards the medical center, he does what he can to try to force-transition this scene to the next, so to speak, when he heads through a door perhaps.

    He desperately hopes Homura will figure out what's wrong, because Arthur himself sure doesn't know. Let's try to jump into Eryl's page of this book now... Maybe there's more clues!

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "Yay, yay~!" Selena would bounce twice on her heels before grabbing ERYL'S hand and leading him -- or, dragging him -- out of the city. From there she would direct him to a cliff astride the path he had just been walking. The precipice looms over a valley swept by the waters of the ocean and pearly sands the likes of which he might never have imagined to exist before. Presiding over all of this are hollowed mountains that curve over the area as though they were crystalline claws holding the entire shoreline in their grasp. Though they are somewhat unnerving to see, perhaps, they're undeniably beautiful -- just like everything else in this world seems to be. Just over the peak of that mountain he can see the sun beginning to set, coating the world in a brilliant amber. All around him, flowers sway, the wind blows, all coaxing him into feelings of pride at what he had been able to do. Able to give.

    "Do you see, do you see~?" Selena would remain exuberant as they approach. "It's so pretty, isn't it? It's so amazing, isn't it?" She folds her arms behind her back and looks out at it all, eyes glittering. "And I heard places like this exist all over the world now, thanks to you and the people who helped you. I read that in a history book, you know?" She would ball her fists energetically. "So it's really, really important to me that you get to see it all! It must have been so hard, like planting a garden where all the flowers had died... so you deserve to see -everything!"

    This girl is fairly intelligent for her age, isn't she? And pretty emphatic...

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    ARTHUR would jump worlds again, this time manifesting as an officer of ReGenesis. He has blond hair and green eyes this time, and is clad in a stiff jacket with a tall collar. In spite of the bright colors at his face, he likely looks every bit as official as he needs to to get a reaction from people who matter. People like Eryl, who is standing at a cliff with some girl he most certainly does not recognize.

    He would know immediately that Eryl is the one whom he came here to see. Some of his own memories might come back to him, too -- nothing in the vein of /why/, but names do come to him. Names like Mizuki, and Sophia. In other words, he's been given buttons that may get responses from others.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Goug? Faruja blinks for just a moment. Something taps on the back of his brain, not too unlike before. Fire, screams, and a man being hauled away...

The High Inquisitor shakes his head, a hand going to his temple. "...Definitely a White Mage." Mutters the rodent quietly to himself before focusing his attention on the good Cardinal.

"Ah! Of course! Ye art wisely humble, however, Goug shall do well to remember humility. Ye well know what once slept beneath, false heralds rightly put to flame! But they art good, stalwart people. Care for them well and ye shall be remembered in turn."

Memories. Faruja reaches up, and scratches his ear. Could he be falling into ill health? How very odd.

The makes a bee-line for the nearest table, snatching up a plate of tea and cheese as politely as he can while still being swift about it. His Heaven Stomach calls to him, and he spears a piece of Goda. Nom.

Ainsley. Loving, sweet, and ever willing to call him on his faults. The tray is sat down, and he's pouring her a cup already.

Only the luminaries about and statesmanship keeps him from giving a far more personal greeting to his beloved. He reaches down to take her hand to kiss, before pausing. Ainsley. Why is she here? In /Ivalice/ of all places, and so happy? There's a memory, on the edge of his mind. Fire, and danger, and ...

Goug. Tea. Fire. He opens his eye a little more.

Then, a voice. Better. Here.

The Inquisitor can't place why, but a voice from nowhere, as if in a dream sends chills up his spine. He can't help it. He drops the teacup, hand shaking.

Concern is blatant on his face, but his hazy mind cannot yet quite put things together.

"Where...else wouldst I be?" he mutters aloud, shaking still. His head hurts suddenly. He's /cold/.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl smiles, running behind the girl as she eagerly leads him out of the city. It's a little odd that she's running around so much, without supervision... but in this post-scarcity society, crime is nonexistent really. Besides, she's with him. What danger could she possibly ever be in?

     He stands upon the cliff-edge, looking out. Of course, he's familiar with this place, he's been all-over, after all. He takes in the sunset, the curious shape of the hollowed mountains, the actually sandy beach, not sand mixed with dusty earth... a content sigh escapes his mouth.

     "Hahaha, thank you Miss Selena. That's very kind of you to think of me, but... I've already seen all this?" He frowns, rubbing his chin. He MUST have, right? He's been around far longer than this girl, been all over the world to help in rebuilding it... surely he's stood at this cliff before? And if this girl had read a history book, she should understand this... well, that might just be childish naivety.

     He shakes his head and grins. "Though, your insistence is very much appreciated. Thank you for showing me." But suddenly, a presence behind him. He turns, and sees Arthur. The man seems familiar somehow... maybe they ran into each other in the past? But... he doesn't seem to recall seeing that face in those clothes. New recruit? Or...

     "Hello sir. Lovely view, isn't it?"

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The light probably turned green before PSYBER got Homura's text so he, as an ex-cop and general law abiding citizen, certainly couldn't fudge the rules enough to accomodate texting while he's driving. And unfortunately, he doesn't hit any more red lights before he gets there, so she's probably kept waiting for a while. Still, when he finally gets into the parking lot at the Angel's Whisper he would probably have a chance. As for S is, though? Hard to describe. A 'colleague', to him, but probably a teacher to her. Maybe they taught her before? Still, so hard to think of single name for them. Maybe... Samantha? Yeah, something like that.

    Anyway, he's here, and Elliana is probably waiting. If he goes inside the building proper, he would find her sitting at a booth. Looks like she's ordered some hot chocolate for both of them! And... she's wearing a suit. For some reason, that might seem extremely bizarre to some part of him, but she probably wears those things pretty often, so it would be hard to place why. Still, she would wave him over, gesturing to the seat across from her.

    ... seriously, there is something way wrong about the loose gestures and the general warmth, but. Maybe she's drunk? Yeah, that would be a good explanation.

    Or not.

    Maybe -he's- drunk?

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur's current position won't let him properly questionEryl for some time. That check-in is going to need to be waited for: Arthur Lowell is going to 'wait', perhaps for days or weeks or maybe even months in Eryl's Heaven while he's getting to explore his ideal world, until Eryl does come in for that check-in. But he will be there, just behind him. "Hello, Savior. It certainly is a beautiful sight. We could never have done the necessary geo-engineering if it weren't for the data you acquired, though." From here, Eryl is likely free to arrange the check-in with ReGenesis through Arthur.

    And of course, Arthur, after however many weeks Eryl may decide to indulge in exploring, will be the one to be there, at that ReGenesis office, in the designated check-in area. Visitors are even allowed, like Selena, most likely! "Now, a few basic diagnostic questions, before we begin our more thorough analysis. There's a few data points we need to test your memory for. What do you remember about..." He flips a sheet of paper on a clipboard. "'Sophia'?" He tilts his head, trying to remember the name himself... "What about 'Mizuki'?"

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    As KIMIKO approaches the gate, the hand of another person would wave at her. This girl is not one of the faces she had been expecting, but it is one that asserts itself in her memory fairly quickly. Seiko, she would recall -- a member of the kendo club who is, oddly enough, exceptionally soft-spoken and demure. She's simultaneously unfamiliar and familiar, but that almost makes her... comforting. Far less stigmatized than other things she's encountered thus far, at least, though the reason why those things were so charged might still teeter just beyond the brink of her awareness.

    "Kimiko~!" Her voice is high-pitched, hopeful, and sweet. Almost like a melody, really; a lullaby. "Good morning! Setsuko wanted me to tell you that she wants us to get together after school tomorrow. I don't really know /why/, but I don't think we really need an excuse to have fun. Right?" She would continue to smile, maybe starting to sway somewhat. "Hey, want to walk to first period with me? We both have Science, right? You look like you could use some company."

    People seem extremely determined not to leave her alone today, for whatever reason.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber sighs in the parking lot, rubbing the back of his head tiredly, "Aaaaa, come on."

    Psyber decides to fudge it to Homura, rather than be embarassed and admit he doesn't remember. He texts back:

    <Oh, come on. You know S. She works in the Forensics classes?>

    He shakes his head and grabs his gun out of the seat next to him, meaning to holster it under his coat. But as his hand touches it, he freezes up. He blinks several times and then gets a detached sort of stare.

    Something inside of him clicks. The gun glows a gentle lavendar, activating a blessing put upon it by someone who warned him about this very pitfall:

    'When you find your mind in a haze, look to this artifact, and you will recall yourself.'

    A numb feeling comes over Psyber as he realizes the illusion he was in. Realizes the cage that was forged for him under the title of Heaven. A bitterness wells up in his throat, a hatred of both this illusion and of himself for being sucked into it.

    It's a limp and cold sort of walk he does as he heads into the cafe. A deep breath is taken and he steels himself to step back into who he's supposed to be. The door is pushed open and Psyber steps into the cafe.

    The gun comes up, "This isn't real. None of it is."

    And he promptly raises the gun above his head and fires one shot into the ceiling, "Everyone out. NOW."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl indulges himself for weeks, exploring the world he helped made. At every beautiful sight, from looking down at a city from a skyscraper, to looking out into the depths of the sea from a submerged aquatic research centre, he is simultaneously awestruck by what he sees, and niggled at by the realization that he has likely seen this before.

     Eventually, it becomes too much, and he goes in to ReGenesis to be looked at. He is greeted by that curiously familiar man he met before. He laughs at being called Saviour and shakes his head. "Just Eryl is fine, really." He drums his hands on his legs and nods his assent to the opening questions.

     The drumming immediately stops at the mention of Sophia and Mizuki. He remembers the enigmatic self-proclaimed author and her monochromatic opposite. He gives Arthur a nod. "Sophia, also known as Apathy, was the opposite of Mizuki. She opposed us when we were trying to reclaim the numbers of Mizuki's clock tower. That was way back when I was new to the Union and the Multiverse." As he details this, he frowns. How... did that all turn out again?

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Yes. Yes, that all seems correct. How did that end? Why does Arthur remember? He can't recall /being/ there, after all, there were circumstances that prevented it. How did that end...

    "Good, that's correct." Arthur says, checking something off. "Memory for that partitiion shows initial accuracy. Let's try something that should have wound up on the next partition, and then a few other more recent diagnostic tests for your implant processing. Who else do you remember in that particular crisis? Provide immediately relevant names, if you can." And then he pauses. "As for the processing, let's see. Have you recently experienced any instances of vertigo, migranes, feelings of being watched, or the sensation of 'static'?"

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Madoka's eyes beam as HOMURA pulls out yet another pair of bentos. "A-Awww! You made bentos for us, too! That's so nice, Homura..." She would give her an incredibly happy look. So maybe the food will go to waste -- whatever! She obviously made Madoka really happy. Worth! "And, yeah! I'm actually kinda hungry. And we can just have the rest later if we don't finish!" Ever the optimist. That does make the contrast when Homura asks something kinda creepy all the more pronounced, though. "... huh?" Her head would tilt waaay to the side, and her cheeks might puff up. "Weird? Well, kinda, I guess. It seems pretty normal to me. That guy was reallyreally strange, but he's the only thing I've seen that's different from usual. And that's probably only because he was a Freshman! So..." She would shrug. "I'm sure everything's fine!"

    Still, it wouldn't be in her style to let it rest there. "But, um... why? What other things did you think were weird, if you can think of anything? I wanna help the feeling go away, if I can." Always, constantly thinking about other people. She might give Homura's hand a quick squeeze, too, to drive that 'I wanna help!' thing home.

    'If Madoka's here, strange things don't matter, right? She'll make them all go away.'

    A voice echoes from no where in particular. It sounds like Madoka could've said it herself, but she doesn't speak in third person! She's not that anime archetype.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Ah, Seiko. Right--she's seen this person a lot, of course. She must have frequented her company quite a bit, being in the same club. That's why she's so familiar. And why she's being so familiar. Being called by her first name still feels a little strange to Kimiko, but--that's just how most people are. She's aware that she's the stiff one.

    "Do I look that bad?" She rubs her eyes, wondering if she still looks sleepy. Perhaps she should have spent more time preparing before she left. "I thought I..." kept it in better than to show when she was feeling uneasy, especially if it was over something she couldn't explain. And she shouldn't be feeling uneasy, anyway. Bad dreams should be set aside by the time one leaves home. "Nevermind. After school, tomorrow. Got it."

    She can't see any reason to refuse the commpany, so she doesn't. "Science? Yeah." That should be right. It's not like she wouldnt be fine alone, but--why would a student ever be alone?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Gwynevere's grip on PRISCILLA would only grow tighter as she feels her clinging to her. Immediately she would take on a look of confusion, stroking her daughter's hair in some attempt to make her feelings of nervousness subside. "Seath... is working, as he is normally wont. Though he hast made a promise to appear today, even if it is only briefly, so that we may have some time as a family." Though, as a mother, she would somehow know exactly what is bothering her. And even if she doesn't know why, she isn't going to let it rest. "But why doth thou quake so at the thought of that, dearest? I know full well that your father canst be quite ominous, but he hath only the best of intentions. But prithee, tell me if you wouldst prefer me to ask him here on a later date. I am quite certain he hath enough potions and books to tend to." She would complete with a small smile, gingerly releasing the girl from her embrace.

    "Now, what say we get on with the day's sojourn? I had thought we wouldst visit the galleries, and perhaps finish the day watching the sun set from one of the balconies. Though I do ultimately leave the decision to thee, Priscilla. So long as I may see thine happy countenance, I care not where we should happen to be."

    She would lightly hold her cheek in her hand a moment before releasing her and, still holding her hand, beckoning her onward.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "I could not agree more, Brother... Sen..." He would pause in his speech, blinking. "Father Senra? Are you quite well?" He would reach out to him, but not before Ainsley does, all to eager to give him comfort if indeed he's in some sort of pain. It would seem that the entire procession would cease at the shattering of his glass, and everyone would look to him with concern. Everyone, as though this were one, massive family -- a group of people who would fear completely the demise of any individual as though they had some special connection to them themselves. Likewise, Faruja's old mentor would rush to his side as soon as she enters the room, joining a small crowd of people that have quickly amassed to see to his safety.

    "WHITE MAGE!" Faruja's teacher would shout, "We need a white mage!" Immediately, several of the clergy would rush out of the room. Everyone remains with those same looks of concern, and Sendris would eventually ask again, "... Brother Senra? Are you in need of any help? I am afraid you gave the members of the parish quite a start." Quickly, he would add, "-- though I can quite assure you that everyone here is more worried for -you- than they are for etiquette and neat presentation. Please do not fret, and no one would be offended if you had to withdraw early to your home."

    Ainsley would remain ever by his side, as would his friends. The voice would disappear completely, leaving him with a room full of friends, coworkers, and allies. All of whom he knows he can trust. But is there anything missing, here...? That's for him to decide.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl rubs his chin, trying hard to recall how that all went, momentarily ignoring Arthur until the young man's questions snap him out of it. "Ah, yes, of course. Let's see... the crisis began when Apathy appeared at a party hosted by Mizuki, apparently. The numbers on her clock tower were taken, and we had to retrieve them from the Sentinels of the various regions of her mind."

     Eryl pauses for a moment. Yes, that was all correct so far. Maybe recalling it as a timeline would help him remember. He begins to list the events of the crisis in chronological order, stating when he was involved and what was gleaned from reports. But when he reaches the Library and Heaven...

     "... then, we had to delve into a book to obtain the next number. The book would create a... perfect..." Suddenly, he feels an onset of paranoia, eyes flicking around. This world was PERFECT. Everything happened according to plan, and it was revived. Was... was he still in Heaven? It was at this point that his memories became hazy too.

     He looks at Arthur, really looks, his brain buzzing. "... Arthur?"

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    That optimism is truly soul-crushing.

    But it's making Homura happier than she's been in yea-- what? No, that's dumb. What's with all the off-details? That's what she means by weird. Years? Minutes, maybe. She's always with Madoka, there's not much time or reason to be unhappy ever. Nothing can go wrong like this. Not that there'd ever be anything to go wrong. Surprise tests are the worst they have to deal with.

    That's an odd thing to mentally measure.

    "Oh, it's... it's nothing. I must be sleepy with the new semester starting. Don't worry, strange things don't matter, as long as you're there." Although that thought is strange in and of itself. Sounded off. And that thing Arthur said just keeps echoing with that hint of 'maybe it's true' to it. But who would be after them? What's she done to warrant anyone targetting her?

    "Sorry, I'm the one being weird now. Let's go find a nice quiet place to eat. You should worry less about others and more about yourself, besides... you know I don't like it when you look after me. You need to allow me to return it sometimes too," she says.

    Always been true too. Madoka welcomed her in middle school and it's been nothing but getting helped and encouraged by her since then. And saved, more than once too. Wait, saved? From what? There was a... thing. Didn't it involve a museum? Some paintings, at least. That was so long ago.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The second PSYBER fires his gun, the cafe erupts into chaos. The illusion of Elliana would widen her eyes at him before flickering into a static similar to what Homura had seen and disappearing completely. After several moments wherein people flail about the room, tableware shatters, and those brave enough to stay begin to phone the police, everything would pause. The world would be coated in sepia, and fairly soon after Psyber would hear the telltale click of footsteps. They're behind him of course, though whomever it is makes no effort to hide themselves should he turn around. It is a woman in her late twenties. Bespectacled and wearing formal attire similar to those 'Elliana' was, she would appear quite official -- right down to the stoic expression she's wearing.

    A handkerchief peeking out of a pocket would be embroidered, in a gentle pink, with the letter 'S'.

    "But why can't it be, Mister Psyber?" Her hands would remain behind her back at all times. "Why would you prefer that broken place you've come from, even when you have contact with people that you knew there? I would give you everything. I would take away all your memories of agony, and leave you to form new ones. Then I would find your other friends as well, and make them all a part of this dream." A pause. "I would give you paradise, and all I would ask in return is that you take some time to appreciate me in turn. Please, do not choose adversity over peace. Do not choose damnation over salvation." She would hold out her hand.

    "Give me that gun and I will make this world real again. All of that anger you feel -- it will go away. And all of the people you love, they will be safe. You have earned your rest. Accept it."

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur's eyes seem to widen. Eryl knows more about this than he does, and some of it is getting uncomfortably close to rattling him away from his own Heaven. "Yeah. But... But I don't..." He says. Then he realizes. Oh shit, this is going to draw the Warden's attention even worse. He gives Eryl universal passing grades, tosses the clipboard to the floor, and says, "I need to go. Now. Before they find me again." In the most urgent tone possible. "You need to move too. Run. Run!" He needs to get out before the malevolence here realizes what he's done, so he gives a quick, firm nod, and makes to dash back out, doing his best to force his way through the borders of Heaven again, to another world, any other world!

    He may wind up ramming headfirst into Kimiko's Heaven, or possibly into Kimiko.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja can barely hear the shouts for a mage, only for him to turn first to his mentor, then to Sendris. He pauses, glancing at the man. A breath, and he slowly stops shaking.

"...Fine. Forgive me. Methinks Ainsley was right. Too much work. 'Tis merely exhaustion."

With that lame explaination, he sits suddenly, closing his eye for a moment.

Friends, family, allies. People he can trust. People he knows and would give his life for...

His eye opens. His heart all but skips a beat.

A glance to Sendris. "Cardinal. Where...mine Acolyte. Acolyte Strawberry. She...I didst not notice her in attendance. Is she alright?" He pauses. There's a name, it lingers in his mind. Tea. His hand reaches out, grasping Ainsley's. The other feels oddly /empty/.

But he can't quite figure out /why/.

Something hits him. "Cardinal. There...a friend of mine. Sister Mizuki. Might the good Lady be about?" He knew two dear friends were missing. A clock sits in his mind...Sister Mizuki...time? Of course, a time mage. He rubs his temple. His head is throbbing by now. Maybe he should see that white mage after all.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl's mounting paranoia is not helped by Arthur's curious reaction. His mention of the Warden only confirms Eryl's suspicions. He gives a resolute nod and shouts, "Good luck!" after Arthur as he flees. Slapping his cheeks to clear the last of his confusion, he begins to form a plan.

     Exiting the office, he takes the elevator not down, but up. All the way to the roof. During the ride, he tunes out the muzak and muses over what he has seen. It was... incredible, perfect. Part of him does really want to stay. But, this is not just his dream. It is the dream of everyone on his world, and only he can bring it into reality. To stay is to refuse them what he would enjoy for all eternity.

     So, standing on the roof, he has one way to summon the Warden to him, assuming she cares about keeping him here as much as Mizuki said. He takes a deep breath, starts running and tries to jump over the safety railing around the edge and plummet earthward.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber sighs a heavy sigh as the world fades to Sepia around him. He's finally back in his own head and he turns around to stare down the woman. His gun is kept in his hand, but lowered to hang at his side and point at the floor.

    "I respect who you are, and I respect what you are meant to do. Your purpose and your goal. They are commendable," Psyber notes in a serious tone, watching her, "But that broken place I come from have people who need me. Were I the person I was ten years ago, I would never leave this place."

    "But," He continues, looking at her evenly, "Now, my paradise is irrelevant. My agony is immaterial. Do not misunderstand, they exist and they cut me to the bone. I wear every failure on my soul like a chain, and on the day I die for good, I'm sure I have a lot in store for me."

    "And yet none of that, to me, matters. For any of them out there that need me, that rely on me, that count on me to be there, I will bear it all." His mind cycles through any of the numerous people that could call him their Guardian Angel, and there are many that could do so, "That is why I would turn away paradise."

    He looks at her, "So give me the number."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla has no idea why she feels this way. Everything today feels off; in the strange way that immediately follows waking up from a dream in which something lifechanging had happened, but shortly before the realization settles in that nothing has really changed. She feels as if something very important had happened. Something that should have completely changed how she should be acting, and yet didn't quite fit with anything she's seen. A flash of revelation, dashed on the hard rocks of uncompromising reality, momentarily becoming an indistinguishable mess of which part is new and which part was always there. Unlike the temporary confusion of a vivid dream however, this sensation refuses to fade. Priscilla finds herself uneasy in her clothes, as if she were supposed to be wearing something else; clinging to Gywnevere as if to make sure she was really still there; and genuinely afraid of meeting her father, as if doing so would fulfill some sort of prophetic nightmare.

    As with all bad dreams, however, the loving touch of a caring mother begins to make it fade from memory. Half-formed thoughts still gnaw on the edges of Priscilla's consciousness, but she reasons that no good can come of thinking of something that makes her so upset. Her life isn't nearly dissatisfying enough to long for it to change. She'll set those unbidden feelings aside, and by the end of the day she'll have forgotten all about them. Such is her resolution.

    The crossbreed's fingers unwind from Gwynevere's robes, reluctantly letting go of the garment as the goddess releases her child. "N-nothing of import. I had . . . simply remembered something unpleasant I had dreamt about last night. Forgiveth me a moment of confusion. I knoweth I am too old for startling at nightmares . . ." She feels a little better saying it. Using a logical explanation to defeat the things she'd rather not feel. Something about the wordy 'gallery' however, speaks to her. Not in a distressing way, but a vaguely prophetic one. As if a painting held some kind of importance, and that she'd immediately be able to separate the fiction from her mind as soon as she sees one. Regardless of her resolution to forget, the curious premonition is enough to sway her judgement. "I wouldst be gladdened to meet the day in the way thou hast planned." Holding her mother's hand, Priscilla follows after Gywnevere's lead, and then gradually takes it herself, regaining some measure of eagerness to move ahead.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    For PSYBER, the woman calling herself S would stand firm, nigh expressionless as Psyber denies his so-called 'eternity of bliss' in favor of a chance to protect his friends. She would stare at him for a long, tense period before giving a long, deep sigh. "Then I suppose you know what it's like to be thrown away, too. To know what it's like to have all the effort you put into helping others forgotten, thrust aside as though it were nothing." Her face would slowly twist into a scowl. "That's what dreams are like. They're things that give you energy, zeal, and will where otherwise you would have none. And then your thoughts scatter off, the ephemeral, fickle things they are, to some new pursuit. Did you ever once stop to consider that the thoughts you leave behind might feel used? Abandoned?" Is she just personifying concepts, or is this an analogue for her own experience? Probably the latter.

    Her tone would become decidedly gentler with her next words, however. "... though, I do not blame you. Your goal, too, is noble. But what if I promised you that, if you all were to simply lay down to rest, all those people you cherish could join you here? They would be safe, and once your individual havens were able to reconcile, you would be able to spend a blissful eternity with them. There is some time yet before I will be able to develop a method of doing something of such a scale, but when I do... what argument will you have left for me but your own need for adversity? ... that, too, I can take away."

    This 'S' seems a bit bitter, perhaps, but somehow she doesn't come off as vehement. More resigned, really, and when the time to address the issue of the number comes she's just as even as before. "... if you would like the number, all of you must come to me together. When all of you have awoken, you will know my domain. That is all. Until then," She would give a small glance in the direction of his gun, "I trust you to do what you do best." Next he would bat his eyes, she would be gone, and he would find himself in a Nexus of doors amid a stretching dark. Each one would be engraved with the name of an individual still lost in their fantasies so he would know how to direct himself.

    Back with PRISCILLA, Gwynevere would remove her hand from the crossbreed's head, moving it instead to tightly grip her hand. She would give a reassuring squeeze, as though she knew precisely what was on her daughter's mind. In fact, could she yet? ... no. No, she is many things, but she is likely not a telepath. "Priscilla," Her voice is smooth as velvet, "I care not how old thee may grow; one hath always the right to fear thine phantoms. Though they are but constructs of figment and falsehood, still they may feel as solid as the hand which holds thine now. All that truly matters is how they impact thee, and thine feelings." She would look down to her, ever with that soft smile. "I am but glad thou didst feel comfortable in telling me of them."

    Though, she won't keep Priscilla wrapped up here all night with her little soliloquy of reassurance. Rather, she would mutter a sweet "Now, come," before leading her outside. The sweet, bright day of Anor Londo would greet them both as they step on to the main walkway, and then move to the towering cylinder that marks the royal quarter's heart. A silver knight would be waiting for them there, whereupon he would greet each woman jovially by name, perhaps even with a bold (but tactful) reference to his appreciation of her beauty. Then he would operate the dial in the structure's center, calling the thing to spiral downward where it would bring the mother and daughter directly to the door concealing the art gallery.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Gwynevere would slowly push the door open to reveal a cavernous room clad in marble. A chandelier is here, too, its chains clinging to iron rafters above whereupon the most elite of guards stand vigil. Some of these same soldiers haunt the Romanesque pillars, watching for any signs of potential trouble. They're quite eerie, and not just because they're almost like chameleons against those pure white spires; they might strike Priscilla as familiar, somehow, in ways that make her nightmare seem as though it's not yet finished. Still, Gwynevere never strays from her side.

    Eventually, they might find themselves in the center of the room, where the most massive painting in the entire collection rests. It depicts a mighty stone bridge aimed at a magnificent fortress perched atop an isolated spire that seems to expand from no more than an abyss below. Gwynevere would give it a curious glower, musing, "Quite beautiful... yet with a hint of loneliness, perhaps?"

    And again, something might feel vaguely familiar.

    As for ERYL, he jumps. And he falls. Only when he's mere centimeters from the pavement would he pause in midair, the world around him graying out in a manner of distinct stillness. Gingerly, his body would spin of its own accord, placing his feet squarely on the pavement of a city sidewalk. At first it seems that there's no one in sight, but after a closer look, he can resolve a figure. Only one, though: Selena. Hers is a look of sobriety entirely unfitting a girl of her age, and her posture is far too rigid to be real. Eryl may more reasonably question whether this was the same individual than he would question if she was behaving differently, but alas, it's unmistakably her.

    "You could have died," Her words are monotonous and warbling, as though it was decaying into radio static at every second, "jumping from the roof like that. But I guess that was the point." The ensuing moment of pause is silent, austere, and apprehensive. And yet, she makes no sudden moves. "... I'll spare you my spiel. You already know what I'm going to say. You've already felt the pulse of this world enough to know how I wish for you to stay, and if it was not enough in its bliss, then it will not be enough in its darkened loneliness. Go. Go and seek out Mizuki and the rest of them. Travel with that other sojourner if you wish; I see already that I've lost, but I've no intention of ceding my place until the rightful moment is upon us." She would turn, her form quickly dilapidating further into a starry silhouette. "We shall meet again."

    With her departure, the world would crumble, but in a uniquely bitter and stylized fashion. The buildings would shave away slowly, aging many millenia without the touch of the human hand in moments, leaving their colors bleak and their windows broken. Likewise, all the flowers of the Earth would wither, and the grassy fields would rupture into a desert. His paradise is long gone, but he would at least find himself capable of meandering throughout the dreamscape now. He can likely trace Arthur's footsteps and follow him, but he might also be able to break into another's dream if he focuses. It's his call.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    For HOMURA, Madoka would give a serene sort of smile when she hears that she's able to make her friend feel better just by being nearby. Still, though, just in case, "Okay! But really, if you have any other weird feelings, don't forget to say something. You know I always wanna help if I can. I mean, I don't want to baby you, but... well!" She lets this serve as a double answer to her other statements, too. "I kinda like worrying about other people! It makes me feel good when I see them smile, and," She would wrap her arms behind her back, here, swaying, "it makes feel even happier when I can make someone I really like happy. Then it's almost like magic." She would pause briefly before adding, softly, "And besides. I always have you to protect me, so I barely even have to worry about having bad things happen. But I still will! Especially when we have to be on our own for a while." She would hold up her pinkie. "Promise!"

    But! Right! A quiet place to eat. "Why don't we go to one of the places we usually go to? Oohh, like the fountain garden! Or we could go to the terrace if you don't feel like sitting outside." Smile smile~. "I'll let you pick! And really -- I don't want you saying 'whichever you want' again. -I-," She would point to herself, then to Homura, "want -you- to pick. Okay?"

    Even with Madoka there, though, the more she pays attention the more she might notice other strange elements of this scene. Like, there are barely any other students around on the campus, for example...

    At this point, ARTHUR has likely regained just enough of his faculties and fragments of identity to feel an extreme dissonance as he sets foot in KIMIKO's dream. That is, he feels oddly... disproportionate? Slim? All good words to describe it, but they don't encompass all of it either. Regardless, Kimiko and Seiko would likely pass by a girl out of dress code on their way to the science building -- one with messy black hair, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans. Still, it's clear from the presence of a backpack that she probably attends school here, and...

    ... wait. What is that attached to the backpack? A... keychain? It's a lazy sort of design that looks like it should only ever have appeared on a simple T-shirt, or a pajama top; it's just a bunch of jagged lines that form a circle together. Still, it seems eerily, even painfully familiar. Just, why?

    Maybe that precise, unnerving similarity is why Seiko tugs at her sleeve as they draw near. In her friend's ear, she would whisper, "I-I don't think I like the way this girl looks, Kimiko. Can we... you know? Go around her?" She would gesture to the left, already heading that way herself. And really, she barely even needs a make a case for her reasoning -- being out of uniform, in school, on a school day is kinda extremely rude. Pretty overt display of defiance if ever there was one.

    Though one familiar thing seems to lead to another, and all the incentive she would ever need to follow along with Seiko appears straight ahead. There's a girl with snow white hair and earnest but lonely teal eyes clutching her bookbag, walking along far from where any others can be found congregating. She doesn't stand out much, but still, Kimiko would know her immediately:

    Sanya.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "I know a lot of things and a lot of feelings," Psyber says indifferently to S, shrugging a bit and then shaking his head, "Your abandonment, while tragic, is an inevitable part of your existence within the mind. You represent an emotional pitfall, the withdrawl into an ideal scenario in which all works out with minimal effort. It is childish in its naivety, and while you may be saddened by being abandoned as she matured, you should be proud that she outgrew your necessity."

    "Your promise is hollow and impossible. One of the people I am most concerned about would be anathema to this place. A cancer or a blight that would turn this dreamscape inside out were you attempt such an illusion upon her. It is impossible to bind a Nightmare to a Dream," Psyber says in a pretty bland tone, "This fact alone leads me to the conclusion that, while the offer is tempting, it is impossible."

    Psyber finds himself in a room of Doors. He scowls a bit and then looks around attempting to decide on which to enter. The choice, semi-obvious to any who know him, is to go see what Homura is up to.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Siiiigh. Of course that's how Madoka feels. That's a constant. Why she thinks of it as a constant, and not just as how she knows her to be, escapes her grasp in the face of needing to keep a minimum of composure here. Especially while performing a sacred Pinkie Promise, but since it's with Madoka, that's completely fine.

    "I promise if something feels weird I'll say so," she answers, and then considers. Where to eat, where to eat... her default answer certainly would have been to make the pink-haired girl pink. But apparently she's too predictable. A resigned sigh leads her to finally decide. "Fine, fine. The fountain garden is alright. It's usually pretty quiet there."

    The lack of students probably should bother. It registers, at any rate, but Madoka's presence and these circumstances are just overwhelming enough she can't find the heart to make a big deal of it. Their schedule probably just lines up such that they have a hole where a majority of people normally don't, and it's a big campus. Right?

    "When is our next class, anyway? I lost track."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    On account of his close connection to the girl, PSYBER would, unlike Arthur, appear in HOMURA'S dream world as himself. He's on what he would likely recognize to be a college campus, or at least a very large school. Specifically, he's beside a vending machine that faces the aforementioned fountain garden from its South side. He could likely make himself appear more natural in this environment if he tried - by imagining a more scholastic suit and tie, for example - but he might actually benefit by standing out as much as he can, so. Choices, choices.

    Meanwhile, just around the corner, Madoka would be flashing Homura a smile. "Alright. I promised, though, so you have to promise too! We can just say you did, though~." She would give a happy nod as she confirms that she'd prefer the fountain garden, and without another thought or word, she would take her hand and lead her off that way. On the way, though a question! "Oh! Ummm... I think Composition? So we'll have a little bit of a walk when we're done, but that's fine!"

    She would weave through several corridors, Homura in tow, before arriving at a stone bench placed directly before the fountain itself. She would just be setting her bags and bentos down and flashing Homura yet another of her winning smiles before... she pauses. She would give a somewhat unnatural turn in a certain direction - to the South - and focus on something for just a second before turning back around. It's subtle enough that most people wouldn't notice, but unfortunately, it would probably be obvious for Homura. You know how it is. Still, she would try her best to act like nothing is wrong, offering an unwrapped bento to Homura with phenomenal quickness. "Here! You can eat the one I made for you, and I'll eat the one you made for me. It's more fun that way, right?" But maybe the change of subject will be enough to circumvent any unwanted discussion...

    Psyber, from his perspective, would be dead certain that she was looking straight at him.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko does feel that this person's dress is a little odd, given the location and the time. They can't be going to school like that--or are they? She frowns, thinking of all the things a teacher (or her parents) would say if /she/ tried attending classes like that. You could get in a lot of trouble like that, especially in a classier institution. In that sense, Seiko's right to be worried.

    "I--" There's Sanya. Her heart aches a little, but she's not sure why. She sees Sanya nearly every day, and it's not as if they've had a fight or anything. She can't remember anything really bad happening concerning the other girl. In a peaceful area like this, what would?

    "I should see what she wants. She might be a transfer student, looking for a teacher." Kimiko states firmly. This is what her father would expect of her--not just ignoring a other people's problems in the hope they'd go away. As long as she can do something about it, it /is/ her problem to take care of.

    Emboldened by an admittedly childish sense of self-responsibility, and surety of what's expected of her by those she respects the most, Kimiko ignores any objection, waves to Sanya, turns and goes to meet the unfamiliar girl with the swirling design on her keychain.

    "Excuse me. Are you looking for someone?"

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber elects to look like his fully normal self. Long coat, gun at his hip, pants and boots. The whole nine yards, full investigator motif. He doesn't much care about standing out in this place, plus he figures that seeing him in a full getup might jog Homura out of her illusion.

    He didn't count on Madoka being here. And seeing her draws a flat line to his face, because if the illusion has her, he wonders if he might even be able to snap Homura out of it. Or if she might resent him for waking her up. He slowly walks forward, careful in his footsteps.

    "You know," Psyber begins as he tries to approach the two of them, "You two remind me of a pair of girls I know. But they wanted to avoid something like this." He notes vaguely, hands in his pockets.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "But..."

    Seiko would meekly raise a hand after KIMIKO, but it's no use. Her sense of duty draws her in precisely the direction she had so obviously wanted to steer her away from. Sanya gives a wave back, too, but stops walking once she notices the girl Kimiko's speaking with. She would slowly make her way over and take a place beside Seiko, but would remain silent for the time being. The girls exchange nervous glances, able to do naught but watch for the time being.

    Seiko looks especially fussy.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur runs headfirst into Kimiko's Heaven and then winds up sort of tripping and falling due to sudden unfamiliarity with his body. Being older or younger, that's not too new. But this is... WAIT, WHAT?

    There are several standard-issue thoughts that tend to go through the mind of a guy in this current situation. Those of you who care will be able to guess at the details of this tumultuous struggle as, ONCE AGAIN, Arthur Lowell finds the world around him validating the slanderous claims of Summer Powers. There's a lot of stress and frustration and indignity, and we won't dedicate too much textual space to the subject.

    Let's move on from that.

    Scrambling to her feet as Kimiko approaches, she looks a little panicked, a little distressed. Glancing around in worry, looking for any sign of her Warden. Seiko and Sanya, maybe? She needs to get this figured out. Kimiko, herself, gets a sort of wide-eyed look. "Kimiko. Kimiko Shinobu?" She claps a hang to her throat and makes a strained, distressed noise, flushing red and looking intensely sorrowful for a moment. There'll be just enough time for Kimiko to get through the first syllable of a reply before the transfer student presses on. She doesn't actually remember the context, but she remembers the clues that made Eryl aware. "I'm looking for... For Mizuki! And Sophia." She says, quietly, in a half-whisper that makes her have to hear her own voice less. It should be a bit of a nudging hint, right? Even if it's a LITTLE bit out of place. "Do you know who they are?"

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko opens her mouth slightly, then closes it again, missing her chance at a one-syllable reply before Arthur (<Venus symbol here>) continues talking.

    "I don't know a Sophia." She's sure that name would be easily remembered if she did, with how foreign it sounds. "Mizuki... can you spell it? Like... 'water' and 'hope'?" She starts mentally going through the twenty-some different kanji combinations that can make that name, which almost distracts her from asking what she wanted to ask /first/--"You know me?"

    She doesn't have any spare attention for her classmates behind her, at the moment.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    "Of course I promise. Why wouldn't I?" Homura answers Madoka, obviously not about to treat her poorly. It would be hard for her to at this point. Why she dimly recalls 'having to do it' before is another piece of information that's out of place without explanation.

    She settles down to eat, fine with the arrangement of swapping boxes. That Madoka stares in one direction seems odd, but before she can ask about it there's a very tall armed man with them. That's not worrying or out of place at all.

    Homura gets back up, mostly to insert herself between Psyber and Madoka. Her glare falls pretty flat on the much taller man, even though she's... not equipped to deal with him right now? Why right now? Oh well, detail. It's more important that she just put herself in front of a man who can allegedly blow her head off.

    He seems familiar too. Deja vu? Something stronger than that.

    "And why would that concern us?"

Priscilla has posed:
    Gwynevere may be right. Though most will convince themselves that the terrors of their adulthood are more rational and sensible than the nightmares of their childhood, ultimately, everyone fears something they don't fully understand. Things that shouldn't happen plague everyone's thoughts from time to time, regardless of age. Still, it isn't for worry of her perceived maturity that Priscilla forces those words. Her mother won't dismiss her feelings out of hand, no matter how silly they may seem, and so she has to be the one to reassure herself that those thoughts shouldn't be given credibility. The way they make her feel may be real, but she still has the luxury of choosing what parts of her life are allowed to provoke her emotions, and as long she does, she'll gladly shut out anything she doesn't like. "A right need not be exercised simply because it is there." She retorts in the kind of tone that suggests she'd heard it in class. "What is permissable to do and what is best to do art often two different things. Even if none wouldst begrudge me such irrational fears, it does me no service to indulge in then, so I hath resolved that I will simply grow out of them! I will never gain confidence like thine if I continue to worry over every little thing . . ." even she can admit it to herself. She's always been shy and nervous. Especially when it comes to unknown people. She can't really remember why she doesn't like new people, or when it might have ever come up, but by now Priscilla has strongly resolved not to pay any of those incongruous gaps in her memory any mind. They'll go away if she ignores them. They have to, right?

    She smiles to the silver knight as the two of them pass by. She had always liked her grandfather's race more than humans. They knew their purpose and place in life, and lead bold, vivid lives free from doubt, confusion, envy and cowardice. She always knew what the knights thought of her, and trusted them more openly than every other race within Anor Londo. The four captains were the idols of her childhood; especially the Lordsblade Ciaran. She could honestly never tell them apart wearing that armour, but she keeps that to herself as the dias lowers itself, thoughts already drifting away to speculation on the nature of what might be new in the gallery since she had last seen it. She vaguely recalls that a particularly famous painter had been working on a very big project up until now. He had some sort of power, as she recalls. She tries to remember the specifics. Was he one of the divine monarchy? One of the sponsored from outside? A demigod? A member of the clergy? His name escapes her for the moment; eluding her grasp as the Book of Heaven sorts out where to place her real memories so as not to break the immersion.

    Her thoughts turn from the painter as she catches sight of the guardians instead. A chill runs up her spine as she lays eyes on the white hoods and silver masks. Had the gallery always needed such defenders? She intuitively knows at a glance that these are humans unlike the others. Generations old servants of Anor Londo. Indoctrinated. Fanatical. They'd lay down their lives on the spot before allowing harm to come to a single work of art housed within the grand hall. She knows that much, but the need for them suddenly seems unreasonable. Humans were low on the totem pole, but Lord Gwyn didn't think so little of them as to expend human lifetimes as nothing more than painting guards, no matter how valuable the framed works may be. Something cold trickles through the recesses of Priscilla's mind as she grapples with resolving the image of her infallible grandfather with the image of paranoia presented here.

Priscilla has posed:
    Said trickle intensifies into an icy deluge as she finally lays eyes upon the masterwork presented before her; causing her thoughts to go numb as they slowly sink under the current. The way her heart hammers in her chest is different from before. It isn't something as simple as deja vu, or a half-forgotten image from a dream. She /knows/ this work's name. She remembers hearing of it for the first time. Meeting its creator. Following its progress from start to finish, over a decade in the making. She had more than once shed tears over its creation, though whether of dread or of joy she cannot be certain. Likely both. It feels as if it were made just for her, carrying all the weight of a parting gift given by someone never meant to be seen again. That single painting is worth more than all the world to her, and in that moment, she isn't really certain why.

    ". . . A-ariamis." is all she manages to whisper; squeezing Gywnevere's hand as if she might vanish at any second.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     As Eryl plummets towards the ground, he actually starts to panic a little. What if he miscalculated? If the Sentinel here didn't actually want to keep him alive... would he die for real if he died here? He squeezes his eyes shut as the ground approaches...

     And stops. Floating upwards and turning around so his feet plant firmly on the ground. He opens his eyes, and sees Selena. He nods towards her, realizing that she was trying to draw him deeper into this dream earlier. Paying close attention to her words, he gives a small sigh as he registers the despondence in her words. "What you are doing here is..." Before he can answer though, she's already gone.

     Looking around as the dream starts to collapse around him, a sharp pang goes through him, a grimace painted on his face. Was this how it actually happened? Or was it something different. He might never know... but he'll be damned before he lets anything like it happen again.

     But now, what to do... Arthur seemed to be more lucid after talking with him, so perhaps it would be best to split up and help as many people as they can as fast as they can. Before they get too invested in their dreams. So, he begins to walk, visualizing Priscilla in his mind as strongly as he can.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Madoka would edge behind HOMURA. She doesn't speak, but it's obvious from the look on her face that something about this person is scaring her. She tries her best to maintain eye contact, but she fails all over the place, glancing nervously to the ground in nearly every direction imaginable before, finally, ducking her head behind Homura and closing her eyes. Does she know him or something? Usually she would greet anyone with the same, cheery smile that she gave that weird student from earlier. But that only makes his being here even more wrong. It's unlikely that either of the pair will notice given the current charge in the atmosphere, but the light from the sun may dim ever-so-faintly.

    There are no other students around. There is no other noise, and there are only two -- or maybe three -- figures left on the stage.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    "It's..." Arthur(O+) says, urgently glancing back over Kimiko's shoulder. "I can't remember why I know you. There's something... Something wrong here. You're supposed to know them. Mizuki, Sophia, and Eryl, and Arthur, and the clocktower, and...!" She's just doing a machinegun fire of memories drifting through her mind or bummed off of Eryl, but even Arthur herself can't put this together. Then she suddenly appearing to be much more confident and dignified, even a little bit cold. "Kimiko. There's someone you're supposed to be protecting. There's someone who needs your help, /right now/. It's not me, it's..." Her face gets distressed for a moment. "Isn't any of this making sense to you? It's not making sense to /me/."

    She seems, honestly, about as confused as Kimiko is, just shows it a lot more, and seemingly... A lot more distressed about it. Or maybe that's the weird circumstances.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    PRISCILLA'S words give Gwynevere several moments of pause. She would stare at her daughter with such surprise, such shock, that the girl might think her angry, but she swiftly shifts back to a smile to assure her that that could not be further from the truth. With a closing of her eyes, she would softly intone, "My, my. So young, and yet thee hast found such wisdom despite. Forgive thine mother, Priscilla; I'm quite at a loss for words."

    She would look to Ariamis soon after, that look of reverence never leaving here. There is much to respect in this gallery, and though her daughter had likely risen above all else in her mind in that regard, she still has ample time to appreciate these works. So she does, for a spell, before --

     -- she feels a squeezing. Priscilla is clinging to her. Why? Her eyes narrow again in worry. "Priscilla...?" She would lay a hand gingerly on her head, looking down on her for several moments before she turns her gaze upward, and recoils. There's a painting guardian directly in front of both of them, staring at each of them with that faceless mask and oppressive aura. This one feels different from the others, but in that difference, almost more dangerous. More... foreign? Yes, it's hard to place, but this man? Woman? Being before them would feel even more otherworldly than the gigantic painting dominating the area.

    Regardless, Gwynevere would collect herself, taking a deep breath and shoring up her grasp on Priscilla's hand. "You'll pardon me if thine sudden appearance did shock me. What with that garb and thine mystery, I thought, perhaps, thee might've been some manner of gallery phantom." She would force a conversational smile, squeezing her daughter's hand just as much for her comfort as Priscilla's.

    Meanwhile, ERYL would find himself looking out of the very mask Gwynevere had been speaking to. Only, it's very obvious that the Warden is through playing this game, because he can feel one thing quite prominently as he appears: a terrible burning in his throat. Through some intuitive stroke he would know immediately what this portends.

    He has no vocal cords.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    One name after another. Distantly, there might be some familiarity, maybe. Coincidence? But she shouldn't know these names. None of her classmates are 'Mizuki,' and the rest are--oh, but Sanya is here, isn't she? It shouldn't be strange for more foreigners to be around. Maybe that's why she recalls an 'Arthur' as if it were someone she knew, some particular person and not merely 'an American name.' But, not clearly. "I don't..."

    This should be weirding her out more than it is, but there's no real reaction to the inherent strangeness of the situation, almost as if it were actually normal. As if she were entirely used to being in situations that made practically no sense.

    "I'm supposed to protect someone." She nods. This has the ring of definite Truth. "Someone needs me." It's absolutely certain. "Someone--" She doesn't know who it is. Whoever it is, she knows that person, but she doesn't know who it is. It's just 'someone she knows, who is not present.' This leads into her next conclusion. "I can't stay here. I have to go help them."

    Kimiko turns, glancing over her shoulder at Seiko and Sanya. Is it--no, it's not them. Sanya has never desperately needed her help--wasn't she just thinking about that? It's someone who isn't here, or she wouldn't need to go. Something /is/ wrong here, though she doesn't understand what.

    Again, she turns. "Where are they?" There is an almost frightening intensity in her expression, even if her words are low and even, her tone barely keeping to a polite level. "Where are they now? They're in danger. I need. To go."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Seiko would look at KIMIKO with the telltale wide-eyes of worry. "Kimiko...?" She would mutter her name as weakly as has become customary for her before gingerly reaching out a hand and attempting to place it on her shoulder. "You look so... I dunno. You don't look good. Are you okay?" Immediately after, she would look to Arthur. It's a benign look, at first, but were her gaze to be reciprocated long enough it would begin to have a gnawing, burning effect on them. Arthur would see Afterus in her irises. She would see a checkered field lit aflame, dark silhouettes scrambling as meteors crash to Earth, and planets in the background collide. It's a deep, dark visual; likely nothing that would distract her for any lengthy stint, but certainly enough to get the distinct impression that those eyes are very angry indeed.

    "I don't know what you said to her," A significantly more authoritative tone from her, now, "but you obviously don't belong here. Just look at you. You don't even know what you're talking about!" She would look to Kimiko, fiercely taking her hand. "They've probably just escaped from the insane asylum or something and thought they still went to school here. It's okay. Really, it's okay. We should get to class." She would immediately attempt to tug her in the direction they had been walking before Arthur appeared.

    In the meanwhile, black vines rise up from the cracks in the concrete. They're subtle, and thin, but they would squeeze at Arthur's feet in a way that would make them feel as though they had been lacerated by a bladed rope.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "I dunno, why *does* it concern you?" Psyber asks, hardly adjusting his stance or posture as Homura moves between Madoka and himself. He doesn't reach for his gun or anything so threatening. His hands simply go into the pockets of his jacket and he tilts his head a bit.

    "Think about it, Akemi. I've got all night, day, whatever," Psyber takes a hand out of his coat pocket and waves his hand vaguely, "What else am I gonna do? Go back to the office and fight with people some more?" He shrugs a bit and runs a hand through his hair.

    Psyber tilts his head at Madoka, watching her curiously, "You can go ahead and try to manipulate this any way you want. I have confidence in her. In fact," Psyber takes his other hand out of the coat.

    He unholsters his sidearm and then holds it out to Homura, "If you decide I'm a threat, you just put two in my chest, Homura."

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    "I'm trying to remember! It doesn't make sense, I think... I think it was Mizuki, or maybe it was Sophia, but, something's wrong, and..." Arthur(O+) starts saying, but then she winds up looking at Seiko. There's a very, very long sort of look, where they have a thousand yard stare. It seems to effectively disable her for a moment.

    She goes completely quiet, almost choking at the hostility. Arthur has... not actually ever, even in real life, had someone directly cut through his bluster and demean him. In years of the multiverse, nobody's ever had the intent to crash through the bravado and attempt to jab right at his self-esteem. And due to other circumstances making him feel intensely vulnerable, that actually /hurts/. "W-wait!" She calls out in a sort of panic when they start attempting to tug Kimiko away, but when she goes to help, the vines lash around her ankles, provoking a distressed, pained noise and making her fall forward while she struggles with trying to extricate herself from the painful growths, to try and get away from this Heaven. Holy shit, she meant to escape the Warden but she just wandered right into her foundation of power, apparently.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     The world around Eryl shimmers as he invades the dream of Priscilla. Already, he's considering how best to approach this. Should he do it like one would to a sleepwalker, very gently? Or attempt to snap her out of it quickly and forcefully?

     But suddenly, he finds himself elsewhere, as something else. A mask covers his face, and he has two swords in his hands, rather than emerging from his arms. Looking around, he spots what appears to be a young Priscilla with a woman with long red hair.

     He starts trying to talk, to draw the crossbreed's attention. But the burning in his throat startles him, and only a slight wheeze escapes his throat. It's not something Eryl likes to advertise, but his biggest fear is losing control of his own body. His many implants can be overridden by ReGenesis remotely, in case they need to speak through him or shut him down. They've only done so once, as a test to ensure they worked.

     It was the most traumatic experience of his life. And now, in his panic, he is starting to relive it.

     As such, the lovely scene between Priscilla and Gwynevere may find itself interrupted when the nearby Painting Guardian drops his swords and starts clawing frantically at his throat, tearing his mask off in the meantime.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    "Yes, I am sure you would like to go back and argue about the relationship between your husband and your wife," Homura snarks, firearm in hand and pointed at Psyber's chest. It takes her about ten seconds to realize what she said. Gears spin, slowly. The missing ones slot in and pick up the place.

    Homura frowns, not just in her usual, neutral, almost permanent sort of frown, but in a genuinely angry and furious expression that is not typical of her. The firearm is clenched, and the raven-haired Puella Magi spins on her wheels, the tip of the weapon coming to rest against Madoka's forehead.

    "How DARE you use her form! Take that mask off, and don't think I won't dare pull the trigger after how often I've had to do it." Well, she certainly moodshifted quickly. Maybe the back and forth between the half-angel and magical girl was the reminder she needed, but without all the other hints and Arthur dropping in it probably wouldn't have sufficed. But now she's 'conscious' again, and evidently furious a book tricked her using that form.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Beneath ERYL'S mask, PRISCILLA and Gwynevere would be met by the rather gruesome sight of something that really couldn't be called human any longer once the mask falls away. The 'painting guardian's' eyes are a misty, pale blue as they might be in death, or in blindness. The skin is pale and coarse, like sandpaper. The head is bald. And, most prominently, its lips are sewn shut. Gwynevere would emit a genuine shriek, grabbing the halfbreed and backing away. "G-Get back! Monster! Haunt this place no longer! Is this not the dominion of the sun? Dost thine cruel nature know not the limits that might keep you from desecrating this sanctum of the arts? Dost thou not know the might of the Lord that presides over this realm?" Glancing about the room, she would shout, "Guards! Remove this being from our presence!"

    At her word, all the painting guards resting on the rafters would descend. They would form a circle of six around Eryl, each of them brandishing their swords and knives in warning. Through it all, Gwynevere would keep Priscilla held closely to herself, stroking her hair. "It's okay, my darling," Her voice is trembling, "all will be well, in time. Give it but a moment hence and all shall be mended."

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    In all Kimiko's memories of her, there is nothing at all suspicious about Seiko, who is thusly, definitely, not responsible for the jeans-clad student suddenly falling over, but that just means that Kimiko doesn't even look in her friend's direction before reaching out to help.

    "It's not okay. I can't just /not/ help." Kimiko is clear on this, even if she knows Seiko won't understand. Seiko isn't--isn't what? As she reaches out to help up Arthur, Kimiko examines those memories in more detail, trying to understand her own reaction. Seiko is a classmate, with whom she has a natural, long-standing friendship, and enjoys her company both in and out of school. They have fun together, do club activities together, and having such friends makes her life far brighter.

    Seiko lacks Kimiko's obligations because she is a normal girl. Therefore, Kimiko is something-that-isn't-normal. Something. She's not sure what that something that is, but it doesn't matter. It's the duty that matters. Those with capability have commensurate duty and responsibility. This was the teaching she held closest to her heart, after her father... after her father told her. Her father is still there, so of course he still teaches the same.

    'Still'?

    "Seiko, go on ahead with Sanya. You don't need to be late because of me. I'll explain to the teacher, afterwards."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    By the time HOMURA turns around, 'Madoka' looks quite different. Her eyes, once full of light, have lost all their luster. They're dull, lifeless; like those of a doll teetering between worlds. The colors of her body, too, have faded almost entirely, leaving a disturbing tint of beige where her uniform had been a bright yellow before. Her hair, also, is a grayed-out mockery of the bright pink that the true girl would have. Her ribbons are gone.

    "Go ahead. Shoot." Her face does not budge. It is one of complete apathy -- perhaps of a decidedly morose variant, but one of its hues nonetheless. "Satisfy your anger. See your loved one's face twist in indescribable agony just one more time. Give yourself to the rage that would horrify her. But do it quickly." A soft glow would emit from her chest, slowly dying itself a dark and inky pitch. A grief seed would emerge there, levitating in front of her. Quietly, bitterly, her tongue would roll, "because you don't have much time."

    'Madoka' would continue to stare with those vacant eyes as the world around the pair decays. Buildings are erased like dust, scattering to the breeze into a fog of distilled hatred that plasters itself across every inch of the sky. The sun becomes a face, and a very distinct one -- Walpurgis Night emerges there, bringing with it a surge of gravity that would feel, in the span of an instant that feels like an eternity, crushing. Its body twirls upside-down, the college campus giving way to a children's sketch sinking into an ocean of paper mache. Psyber and Homura are then left alone on an island with that same, statuesque Madoka, which eventually pops like a balloon, only to land in front of Homura.

    But she'll not have time to look at it before there's another tremor. A pair of blood-red curtains, quivering in the hands of two poorly drawn claws that holds them closed, would lower themselves to where they're in perfect view of each of them. Small letters scrawled on individual, crudely cut squares would fall on strings sewn against the skies. When they settle, they would read:

    "I give unto you:"

    The curtains would pull back to reveal a form. A witch, both of them would know, but one specific one in particular. Its body is composed of lines colored all the hues of the rainbow, but each of them steeped in a diluted raven. Upon some examination, one could fathom this as the bloom of a dress, which attaches to a smaller chest at the form's peak. Its spindly arms are stretched toward the sky as if in prayer, or in praise; all around it is a sea of eviscerated propriety -- stark black buildings strewn about pools of cursed rain. It's obvious what this is, but quite painful to say. Still, the name 'Gretchen' might ring in their ears as harshly though it had been carved into their souls with the sharpest knives.

    'The world you so love.' would fall a final menagerie of hanging letters.

    And next they know, each of them are returned to that nexus of doors from whence Psyber had come.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber flinches a bit at that assessment, mostly owing to how heated that discussion got. But, at the least, it got his point across and Homura flashes into recognition and back into her original self, "Welcome back," He says in a bland tone.

    A flask is pulled out of the inside of his coat as he listens to 'Madoka' and gives a somewhat blank-faced stare. The flask is brought to his lips and he tilts it, taking a few heavy drinks before pulling it away and then screwing the cap back on while he watches this little illusion bring itself to a close, "Sorry I had to wake you up." He murmurs in a distant tone.

    "In exchange, I'll let you pick which door to go through next," Psyber notes, the flask disappearing back into his jacket. He'll just stand quietly and let Homura pick where to go next.

Priscilla has posed:
    In the brief interim between the picturesque sunlit balconies and the unnerving gravity of the looming Great Painting, Priscilla manages to flash her mother a genuinely happy smile as she contains the urge to skip on ahead and walks like a reasonable adult instead. Hearing Gwynevere speak her name with worry a second time however, only makes things worse. She's already feeling upset about letting her phantoms get to her, and even more upset that she'd scared her mother with them. Doing it a second time, right after asserting that she was too old for it, is humiliation on top of fear. Something hot and bitter shoots through her chest at the thought of how pathetic she must look right now. Of how she had failed utterly to develop into anything worthwhile. The feeling of failing for the second time is magnified twice over by the fact that she had felt these exact feelings in parallel, once before this whole dream had even started. The painting was, perhaps, not something the warden should have showed her so soon. Ariamis had been a wonderful place once upon a time. Having its original condition interjected into the fantasy should make it all the sweeter. Perhaps the Warden was simply eager to please; to show her old demons as if they had never happened, retracting centuries of misery to bring back memories of the way things used to be; but for the same reason Priscilla's mind so fervently accepts these revisions to her past, her belief in any such fantasy is equally fragile. She is all too happy to imagine a world where things didn't go wrong, and yet all too eager to remember the reasons they went wrong in the first place. No matter how much she fantasizes about everyone else around her giving her their endless love and acceptance, she can't imagine a vision of herself without blame, real or perceived.

    The painting draws out those feelings of abject failure. Of having something taken away because of her own deficiencies. At first, Priscilla's urge is to simply step behind her mother and hide as one of the painting guardians seemingly begins convulsing on the spot; the intensely unnerving atmosphere going critical at the sight of the man clawing at his throat for seemingly no reason. The idea of placing Gwynevere between herself and that which scares her however, fills her with such unbelievable revulsion that all she can do is the opposite; placing herself directly in the way should the afflicted man suddenly lose his mind. She feels as if she should know what to do in this situation. As if she were so very familiar with the onset of madness, and what happened after it became irreversable. Priscilla's expression hardens as the mask comes off, and as she throws her arms out to the side to prevent any kind of blind charge from the painting guardian, suddenly seeming a lot braver in the face of human insanity. No, not brave. Jaded. "Mother, please, stand aside. This one is . . ." what was the word again? Empty? Vacant?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Sendris pauses a moment before giving his reply to FARUJA. He looks dazed, for a spell, his eyes extremely distant. Distant, and... vindictive? Quite an odd thing to see in the gaze of a priest, perhaps; such an odd thing that Faruja would likely think he had imagined it. And it's likely he had, since his look returns to the same one of gracious warmth that it had been characterized by before. "Oh, Acolyte Strawberry? She was just away to retrieve your favorite Darjeeling. By some transcendental farce, we failed to remember them when we brought this whole menagerie otherwise!" He would shake his head in lamentation. "Please, forgive us. It -- and she -- will be with you presently."

    To the mention of Mizuki's name, though, he would simply give a tilt of his head. "Mizuki? Oh, bother, but I don't seem to recall a Sister Mizuki." With a crease of his brow and a narrowing of his eyes, he would inquire, "Do you perhaps mean Sister Milly? Sister Musuki? Sister Margie? All of them are certainly among us." And now, a shrug. "Whatever the case, you would be unfair to yourself not to enjoy these confections we've set out for you. Really, truly! Eat! Be merry! We shall look for this 'Sister Mizuki' whilst you enjoy yourself. Asides, I'm quite sure she would want you to do the same."

    ... does... he seem... ever so faintly effete? If... he does, it's likely just the posh exterior endemic to some of the priesthood. Yes. Yes, that must be it. He's a good man, just... one with some odd quirks.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    To her great regret after the fact, Homura opts not to fire. She wants answers, and as much as it might satisfy her anger to put one in the fake puppet's head, it might just play into her hands too. The world changes, everything crumbles to all too familiar imagery. Whether it's Walpurgis or Gretchen, it's just as bad for her morale. But the message sent is pretty much true. She world she loves and that'd be ideal to her is just... fake.

    Her gaze lowers and she hands the firearm back to Psyber. "I don't care. Just pick any of them." It's too much effort to pick right now.

    It's not like it matters.
    Any of them'll probably be useful.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "Whatever. Let's get this done. I wanna go home," Psyber says. It's not hostility to Homura so much as it is an all-consuming loathing for this world and everything it has done to him so far.

    Psyber just slams his foot forward to kick in a door at random. This door happens to lead to Kimiko's world.

Faruja (152) has posed:
It's small, and swift, but Faruja spies that hint of vindiction. It stays in the rat's mind, so trained to see weakness and Heresy, so /used/ to it. But...surely not. Such evil men were long purged from the Church. Weren't they? His paranoia an artifact of a cruel past.

Surely. Faruja rubs his head, and smiles. It must have been his imagination.

The rat's hand rubs through his hair. "...Oh my. She shall be most displeased! I shall soothe her ire with drink and a dance later. Good Lady, truly, but viera canst be so /whimsical/ ye know?"

His tail flicks. A hand goes to his head as the priest doesn't seem to know the name. Yet, it sticks out in his mind. But /where/? The faintest of memories spark. Hands, Ainsley's and one of pale white reaching...

Faruja shakes his head. So /strange/.

"Mayhaps I am mistaken..." He mutters weakly, even as the feeling of something being missing pervades him. A bow to the man.

"Of course, Father. Let me..." How strange, this priest. The rat spears a hunk of cheese, chewing on it thoughtfully.

Why does the name Mizuki seem so familiar and important?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Seiko's hard, fast walk gently grinds to a halt. Her hand releases hers, falling limp. She does not turn around. "Fine." Suddenly, her tone is more resigned and whiny than it is genuinely angry. It's obvious that she doesn't want KIMIKO to remain her with ARTHUR, but she isn't having her way. She can already see how this is going to go -- verbal ping-pong until something Arthur says hits the right switch. More like Russian Roulette, for her. Seiko, not wishing to see this scene fall apart slowly and painfully, decides to cut the thread keeping Kimiko from understanding immediately, and painfully. It's less violent than it was in Homura's sphere, though, and more creeping. First, Kimiko would notice bushes in the background that appear to be two dimensional. Then, a distinct darkness in the sky.

    Homura and Psyber would emerge here just in time to see a burning mansion of throughly distorted color and craft claw its way out of the Earth. The most prominent thing about it? It's on fire. Its windows brandish the swirling amber mist of flame as smoke pours from its every orifice. Slowly, it would turn on its axis to stare at Kimiko, reaching for her with one of its spindly black appendages. Then... it's crushed. A heeled shoe flattens the entire thing, snuffing the flame as a noxious cloud of smoke cascades over the area. Slowly, it would swirl upward, congealing into two thin, snakelike shapes that are then taken into hand by the figure of a faceless girl. Her head is decorated with black ribbons. Her hair is the same pale silver as her flesh.

    Next one would look, those strings in her hands hold two figures at their ends. One, a poorly rendered sack puppet of a man in Western business attire, hair brushed neatly to the side, prim; the other, a similarly wrought doll with long, flowing hair and an equally lovely dress. The giantess would eventually place would of these figures in one hand so that she may retrieve a pair of brilliant silver scissors from her smock. Then she lifts her foot, beholds the bonfire of the house still burning, and cuts each string whilst those fictional forms hang above the conflagration.

    The dolls fall, and they burn. They burn into ash, which melts into a sort of poisonous black river. This liquid would rush toward the group as would any flash flood born in the nether. The threat seems quite real, this time -- they are not thrown back into the Nexus as some had been before.

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     In his frenzied state, Eryl isn't fit to do things like 'calculate reasonable force.' When he finds himself surrounded, the only thing going through his flesh-and-blood brain is 'ohgodnopleasenoletmespeak.' But, in the parts that are circuits and metal, there is only one goal. 'Communicate to Priscilla that this is a dream.' And these guardians are preventing that.

     So, he picks up one of his swords and goes into a frenzy, clutching it in two hands and hacking away at those who oppose him. Original Face is affected by Eryl's panic, only estimating the best travel path to cut down his enemies, but not spending any resources on how to defend him. As such, Eryl likely gets as good as he gives, bleeding heavily by the end of the short, brutal fight.

     The blood loss helps calm Eryl a bit, even as his milky eyes are becoming dim. He needs to wake Priscilla up now, before he bleeds out. Bleed... blood. Blood! He begins dragging himself towards the barrier between himself and the crossbreed, letting his fingers trail through the blood pools.

     When he gets there, he starts daubing words in reverse, so they are legible on Priscilla's side.

     PRISCILLA

     THIS IS NOT REAL YOU ARE DREAMING WAKE UP

     Following this, he begins daubing as many keywords as he can relating to reality, hoping that a mass spreading activation in her brain might snap her out of it!

     UNION CONFEDERACY SYNDICATE HEAVEN CLOCK TOWER NUMBERS MIZUKI APATHY SOPHIE ERYL FAIRFAX PSYBER HOMURA AKEMI FARUJA KIMIKO SHINOBU ARTHUR LOWELL RADIO LATE NIGHTS TALKING YOU OFFERED UPGRADE HEAVEN OR HELL

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko doesn't let go of Arthur's hand, as she turns to face the burning mansion-creature. Her expression softens, relaxing into a total absence of passion. She is perfectly calm as she gives one, slight nod of understanding, acknowledging the reality shown to her, and all it means.

    "My role is clear, and I accept it. I am a Puella Magi." Now she releases her grip, to hold up both hands in front of her, and now she wills with the full strength of her conviction, ignoring the apparent absence of her Soul Gem, for a long, tall wall. A line of overlapping shields, fused together and embedded into the ground by long stakes. A defense against whatever is being thrown against her, as well as anyone near her.

    "It was... a good dream. But this reality," she murmurs quietly, "is of my own making. I deserve no more than this."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," Psyber says as he and Homura appear just in time to watch a mansion come to life and claw its way out of the ground itself before immediately being crushed, "I am so sick of this place and its spiteful-ass Warden."

    "HEY!" Psyber shouts loudly, looking at the river. At the same time, he summons his wings and flies up to simply avoid it. He scowls massively. Kimiko can PROBABLY hear him shouting, "I know you're watching this shit, S. You have officially crossed this shit from 'benevolent and understanding' and gone square into 'I am gonna shoot you in the face'."

    "You can reverse this opinion if you just stop fucking around," He says, watching the burning world he just walked into.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur(O+) grabs at Kimiko's hand, and in fact seems so unsettled that she might be clinging a bit. If she can extricate herself from the vines, she will, but there's a solid chance she can't. As the world seems to change, Arthur begins to panic.

    "No! No no no no! No no no!! She's here!" She starts babbling, clawing at the vines and incoherent with terror at the Warden that's pursued her here. Something inside her, motivated by fear and horrible, terrible discomfort, resolves to return back to where she started, where she's SUPPOSED to be, if she can live through this. The terrifying displays of the fire, and the giant form of the warden, drive her into a full-on panicked terror. Someone should probably extricate her from those vines.

    But, Kimiko keeping her safe, that definitely has a better effect here. It keeps her from, you know, winding up in tears or anything like that. Someone should probably deal with those vines, or else she's going to lose her shit a bit intensely. This is not going well for Arthur Lowell, though, and has become progressively worse over time. She'll be seeking out and immediately taking any options she has for returning to her own, home Heaven, or maybe even suddenly remembering how to make a gate if she HAS to. But, not before that horrible black river has dispersed or otherwise been dealt with.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Sendris would look to Faruja moment, this time with much more grace and surety than before. He would offer his hand to him, wearing just the ghost of a smile. "Pardon me, my friend, but would you accompany me briefly?" His head would lower slightly, and his eyes would close in a very bizzare manner that should epitomize serenity, but instead hints upon something far removed. "You seem so... frazzled, now. The Hierarchs and I had intended to save it for the evening's end, but I have one more surprise that I believe may calm your nerves. If you would but follow me, I would take you to see it. Surely, I believe, it would put you at ease." There's something even more strange about his inflection here than before. It's clashing terribly with that sweet overtone he's fighting so hard to maintain, but it doesn't come off as outright -wrong-.

    Still, it's not as though Sendris would force anything on him. Rather, he would just remain there, hand held out plainly, calmly, invitingly. Should he take it, though, Sendris would quickly lead him to a corridor on the other side of the parish from the worship room. It's a long, seemingly endless line, wherein every fifty steps they walk brings them to a new door that flips open, only to later slam itself closed. The doors would continue to close, lock, close, lock, until they come to a final, spherical chamber containing... nothing at all. In the heart of the room is an Ajoran Cross mounted in the center of small fountain, and on the walls are stained glass windows and tapestries, but there is nothing else to be seen here. The final door behind them would click shut, leaving them both locked in the room together.

    Sendris, after their arrival, would release Faruja's hand and fall before the Ajoran Cross. Then he would put his hands together in prayer. He holds this position for some time, which might perhaps be enough time for Faruja to realize that this is a very /specific/ Ajoran Cross. It is not the same size, but the engraving is identical. It is certainly not where he had left it last, but it still carries the aura of the one who had given it to him.

    And it's built from platinum, sure enough.

Priscilla has posed:
    At this instant, Priscilla should probably be screaming in terror. Seeing a disfigured monster of a human being somehow sneak into her inner sanctum, go completely ballistic, and then launch itself into a thrashing, bloody fight with the guards should be enough to traumatize any girl as young and sheltered as she is. Unfortunately however, as much as the Book of Heaven can remind her of it, it cannot give Priscilla back her innocence. She watches the carnage unfold with cold, steely eyes; following the motions of the clearly insane man as if she had seen them a hundred times before, and yet despite wishing desperately that they would be the last she'd ever see, knew in her heart that they wouldn't be. Without thinking about it, her dagger is in her hand; too large for her youthful fingers in the shape that she remembers it. She strides across the marble floor, through the swiftly growing pools of red, and across the hall to meet Eryl's crawling form halfway; reversing the grip of the weapon in her hand, and kneeling to perform the methodical coup de gras as she has thousands of times before upon the hollowed and the damned, back when there were still others to protect.

    She hesitates just short of plunging the blade into his neck, pausing at the sight of writing on the floor. Simply seeing her name isn't much. Everyone here should know it. The first syllable of the word 'dreaming' however, sends an overwhelming wave of anxiety, bordering on nausea, though her. Trying to quietly manage her own doubts was one thing, but she had become committed to maintaining the illusion, despite how much she unconsciously rejected it. Eryl is far too overt. She hardly needs to see the words that come next. Somewhere in her mind, she'd known full well what she was doing. Some tiny piece of her had jealously clung to its bitter memories, and she had ignored it almost purposefully. In the few moments it takes to completely shatter her tenuously self-perpetuated immersion, her mind struggles desperately to try and think of an excuse; of some kind of reconciliation with what Priscilla sees, what she knows, and what she feels.

    Finally, finding no way to resolve it, her subconscious gives up. Like a split vein, it gushes forth a torrent of memories withheld both by the book, and by herself; running a river of sounds and images through her head. She remembers her fear of Seath and Gwydolin, of being sent away, that tiny cell, the progress of the painting, saying her last goodbyes to her mother, her temporary happiness, the cultists of velka, the plague, the darksign, the deaths and each and every one of the inhabitants of Ariamis, and then the repeats of those who weren't fortunate enough to die permanently. She drops to her knees, letting the dagger fall to the stones with a silver clang as she holds her head in her hands, repressing the urge both to scream and to vomit. It is only at the very end of the train of memories, where a thousand years catches up to the blink of an eye she had spent in the multiverse, that the anguish subsides. Remembering that there were still other people, other places and things, left to her; remembering her second chance; is what gives her the strength to look behind her. When she does however, it is in abject fear of what Gwynevere might have become while she wasn't looking.

Homura Akemi (2) has posed:
    Truth be told Homura knows precious little about Kimiko. It's not quite out of disinterest or anything like that, but she never really asked or discussed much with her. The imagery here is partially lost on her as a result, but that might just be because they're coming in with everything already going to hell in a handbasket.

    Black cracks extend from Homura's back, loosely and vaguely shaped like wings. They are more like tears in the fabric of the world than that, honestly, but they do seem to grant her flight, without actually doing much else. Various colors dance in the cracks, but they aren't sufficiently spread out that the shapes they form can be discerned.

    She hovers up, to avoid the flash flood.

    But she doesn't really strike back either. What's the point of trying to gun a flash flood down? If it takes some sort of attackable form, she might bother.

Faruja (152) has posed:
The more he listens, the stranger Sendris sounds. Deep-fed distrust of his fellow person has him noticing those hints. His mind tries to rationalize each one...and mostly succeeds. But the nibbling sense of doubt lingers, like a subtle poison in the veins.

"I would be delighted." Faruja responds, curiousity mixing with that horrid voice in the back of his head. Something continues to feel /odd/.

Taking the man's hand, he follows along, the male wincing with every slam of a door. Did...Mullonde possess such a chamber? His head pounds harder with every slam, every step.

It's like being involved in an execution. Only this time, he's being led to the rope. The feeling passes, but not without a lingering headache. Faram, he feels awful.

The cross. Faruja's eye latches onto the large piece amidst the fountain. His heart skips a bit at the sight as it fills him with strange familiarity. He /knows/ this cross. Faruja Senra crosses his chest on reflex, but doesn't fall to his knees. Rather than succor, it fills him with a sense of longing for something hazey in his mind.

Walking as the dead arisen, he reaches out towards the cross, heedless of water or potentially falling into said liquid.

"I....this cross? Where? Where didst it come from? I know this cross..." He mutters aloud, transfixed, Senris utterly forgotten as he reaches out with a clawed hand to feel its surface.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The tar-stricken ocean would bear down on the lot of them, but luckily Kimiko's barrier is able to go up just in time to save herself and Arthur from the majority of the damage. The blackness swarms over the lid of each of the shields, making it sound as though a downpour of hellish proportions is knocking fervently at the roof of a building. For many moments, the deluge continues, seeming as endless as this whole sojourn has already in microcosm. Some dark drips fall through any cracks that may be left in the shield, and should any behold their impact, they would see the color of the land being burned away. Like acid, it seethes through the false reality's pores, exposing it for the blank, bleak nothing that it really is. This effect is common all across the mental landscape, and the storm reduces everything in sight to a purgatorial essence quite similar to the worldspaces back in the 'normal' world that have been otherwise destroyed.

    Meanwhile, Homura would see this in action from her place in the sky, though she likely lacks any capacity to react as all the remaining buildings half-sink under a proverbial sea, freezing in place as the water ceases to pour forth. She sees every moment of the inferno's transformation to a disjointed realm of ash from her vigil, leaving things quite desolate, empty, and strangely placid. If and when Kimiko withdraws her shields, the land beneath her would be the only patch of 'grass' still in existence -- all else is a stark ivory.

    However, whilst all this is transpiring, others may not notice as those vines wrapped around Arthur recede from whence they came as well. Only, they do so with them in tow. Gradually they're dragged into the Earth beneath their feet through something that feels like quicksand. For a brief period, all is dark, but following this, they would again find themselves adrift above Afterus. Only, this time? There aren't any doors or portals to speak of. Just the planet to approach, now.

    As for the rest of them, it seems the storm has passed without incident. They will quickly notice Arthur's adsence, likely, but they may also notice a final door. 'Faruja' is etched into it.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko actually closes her eyes after she attempts to summon her power, as if disinterested in the results--which is true. She feels as apathetic toward her own fate as she looks. Thoughts that had been nearly-banished long since have returned in full force, faced with this blatant, even overly explicit reminder of her past.

    Psyber is shouting, and Kimiko flinches. Her eyes open, and she looks up, spying both flying figures. They're a break in the narrative in every sense, cutting off her line of thought before it can reach its fatal conclusion. She... pauses, unsure of where to go from here. What was she just doing? Where did that girl go? Kimiko needed to help her, and--

    She falls to her knees, holds her face in her hands, and her shoulders shake in a silent, irreegular rhythm. The shields disappear a few at a time, as if on their own.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur is pulled under. She seems almost as panicked about this as other parts of this terrifying scenario! Screaming and distressed, but no moreso than she was originally, meaning it's easy to... Lose track of her! Whoops. She goes down, down, and actually thinks she died for a moment before she goes back to her Heaven.

    Back to Afterus. Alright. Good. Okay. NEVER, NEVER leaving this again, she thinks, very firmly. The Warden has clearly taught her lesson, and now Arthur -- back to being Arthur -- is going to drift down towards Afterus, shaking and shuddering with a sort of scared, vulnerable posture. But, hey! This is probably safe, right? Arthur has had more than enough of HEAVENQUEST and is very eager to go back to not being hunted.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    What Priscilla sees when she turns around isn't Gwynevere at all, but neither is it any sort of biological form. It's the true Ariamis. She's facing from the opposite angle of the one depicted in the painting itself, from the bonfire. On the far side, though, the familiar shape of her mother might resolve, standing in the radiant backdrop of the sun. Over there, grass is present. Flowers are blooming. There are waving flags and beautiful, sunny skies, and the castle of Anor Londo towers over it all, proudly. Unlike some others, though, this image does not distort. Rather, it just grows further and further away with each passing moment, the bridge that had long served as the interstice between her home and the outside world extending infinitely, until Gwynevere's entire form is but a speck on the horizon.

    When it is far enough away, this visual would fall into a coffin that had previously been well-concealed. It would close with a ginger clunk and click, a motif of the dark sign shimmering on its front. Then it would lay itself flat so that she may instead see the appropriate other side of that bridge, as she remembered it, capped with snow and hung in a solemn air.

    Beside her, Eryl would be found unchanged and unblemished beside the fire. The snow would feel like a soft, warm blanket rather than the biting think it should earnestly, which might help in soothing him back to the world of full awareness.

    From nowhere in particular, a voice echoes with the howling wind. It sounds like it could be Gwynevere's, perhaps, too distant to ever be known if it is. She mumbles Priscilla's name in that same warm, affectionate tone, as though it were being chanted within a dirge.

    She's back. It's all back, aside from one key detail: there's now a door to be found on the rickety old bridge spanning the great divide of that wintery world. It's heavy, metallic -- completely dissonant with the atmosphere, yet somehow perfectly fitting.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    No answer. Go figure.

    He had expected something from his provocations, even if just anothe proclamation of futility. But instead he gets the most insulting answer of all: Nothing.

    Dropping from the sky to land, Psyber banishes his wings with a peppering of feathers. Psyber takes a few steps over towards Kimiko, carefully walking. He doesn't know her as well as Homura, nor have that same close relationship. So he resists the urge to put a hand on her shoulder. That would probably worsen the situation.

    Instead, he just quietly says: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power may rest on me. That is why, for his sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." He pauses, "Second Corinthians, Chapter Twelve, Verses Nine and Ten. I am unsure of your religion, but whether you believe or not, you may still draw strength from a passage."

    And then he turns towards the door, "There is work yet to do."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Before Kimiko, the ghostly, flickering apparition of Seiko would reappear briefly. She would stand over Kimiko, her face miserable. Deeply so. "... I'm sorry." Her voice is a muffled rasp of what it was before. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it would hurt you this badly. Honest. I knew it would hurt a little, but I thought..." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

    Whether or not this is meaningful or purposeful in the least is for the others to judge, though, as her words are every bit as even, calm, and apathetic as they've always been. They do lack the malice they held before, but why? Either this girl is bipolar or she really had no idea how bad what she was doing was. Or there's just no coherence to any of this at all, which would make sense to. It's anyone's guess.

    "... there's only one more now. Everyone else is done. Go through that door, and... I'll give you the number. Tell you anything you want to know. Promise. Pinkie promise. Anything if you'll forgive me."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Dreams certainly are weird, especially when they jump from one thing to the next. One moment, Eryl is bleeding out on the ground with a knife-wielding Priscilla standing over him, next he is by a bonfire in the snow with her next to him. Relief immediately washes through him when he hums a couple of notes, his voice his own once more. In the distance, he can see the warm glow that that woman gave off fading into the distance, before being sealed off forever.

     This is what he was afraid of. Dreams like his own, they are still within the realm of possibility. But, from what he saw, Priscilla's dream was to experience a loving childhood, which is all but impossible now. He chews on his lower lip before looking at her.

     "I am sorry Miss Priscilla. I realize that must have been terribly hard on you, and I understand if you resent me for it. But, there is important work to be done." He looks at the door on the old bridge and gestures towards it.

     "Others may be trapped, and the number may yet to be claimed. We should be going." Standing, he brushes some snow off his suit and offers Priscilla his hand.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Sendris would gradually begin to rise from his prayer, giving a final 'amen' before turning to face Faruja. His eyes look... different, again. Still deceitful, still ruinous, but somehow mournful. Imagine a serpent were it one with the skill to cry, or feel remorse. Without a word in reference to himself, though, he would regard the cross, arms folded neatly behind his back. "Oh, this cross? It was a gift. It was a very important gift. A gift to you, in fact. Perhaps that is why you remember it. Do you remember it?" He would turn to face him. "I wouldn't begrudge you if you didn't. It's an object, a trinket, a bauble, a tool -- far different from the hearts of people." As if in some mad sermon understood only to him, Sendris would continue, "For the hearts of people are so complex. So deep and wonderful, yet simultaneously so absolutely frail. Never can one know how deep to cut; how to leave an imprint of meaning from an incision, but to not bleed the thing out of life." He would place a flattened palm to the platinum. "Objects are so much simpler."

    Sendris would shut his eyes for several moments more. "Tell me. Do you like it here? Did you enjoy it here? The food, the recognition, the happiness -- were they not enough for you? Is there some way in which I can improve? Some way where I may not make such a sham of your wants?" He would shake his head. "I tried showing you kindness, and I was wrong. I tried showing you pain, and I was wrong then, too. What, then, am I to make you feel? Nothing at all? Tell me that you do not want me to void you of feeling, for that would slay me as surely it would slay you." His hand would detach itself from the cross, gradually. "Please. I want only to understand."

Priscilla has posed:
    Despite the frantic pace of her thoughts, born of the overwhelming sensations of panic, fear, and shame, Priscilla watches the warden draw an end to her personal dream in the most spitefully theatrical way possible with the kind of wide-eyed calm of someone watching a gun being levelled at their head. From the instant she sees the inside of Ariamis, she knows what will happen. She sees it all play out ahead of time, and yet she can't help but watch it anyway; her gaze remaining fixed on Gwynevere for every last second she remains visible, even knowing she only exists to be taken away.

    When Eryl stands, Priscilla is once again taller than him, clad in thick white furs and with long, loose hair. Her fingers twitch as she accidentally brushes his offered hand with her own, before reflexively curling around it anyways, if only just for a moment. The crossbreed turns her head to look towards the distant, eerie horizon, obscuring her expression from Eryl's vision, but giving herself away anyways as she lifts a sleeve to her face and holds it there for several moments. "I doubt such." she says in an alarmingly flat monotone. "There art none here who wouldst so gladly sabotage themselves as I. If any more yet remain ensnared, they art fools entirely." She makes no comment on whether or not she resents him, simply striding out ahead over the old planks like she has done innumerable times in past, and exiting through the door.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko is listening, but the understanding isn't there. She gives no real response, but she might just barely be heard whispering. Whispering, because her voice wouldn't even be intelligible if she raised it any higher.

    "I could have... if I hadn't... I could have..."

    She doesn't understand. Nothing good came of her weakness. The most she can take from that is some of Psyber's intentions. And then, the last line, not quoting, but--echoing sentiments she's held so frequently. At that, she leans forward and strikes the ground as hard as she can, with all the force of a teenaged girl, simply because she needs to hit /something/. Only then can she start lifting herself up, though still she turns her face away from all present.

    She'll be along, presently. Probably. Not really 'recovered,' and not speaking--nor acknowledging the apology--but along. That's the most she can manage now, and only that, barely, because someone's there to offer a way out of that aged narrative, that she'd thought she'd left behind.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Arthur, as himself, is back in Afterus, and there's nowhere to go but down. There's a vaguely stagnant air about the whole place, but there might be a distinct relief to it too: he can feel space again. Only, space is extremely heavy. It feels like he's wading through one, giant swimming pool with every step - or float - toward the planet on the celestial horizon. But... there's a distinct oddity to all this. The word 'dream bubble' might come to mind to help describe what he's feeling, how he's moving, and where he's going. It all feels very surreal. Unreal, too, in a manner of speaking, but to some extent that was probably already there.

    Now, on his way down, a strange thing happens. He finds a laptop in the shape of an iguana seated upright. The lid is already open, and Pesterchum is on the display. The message indicator is blinking.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Kimiko, Priscilla, Homura, Eryl, and Psyber would all, through various means, find their way into a barren dining hall. Each table is littered with food, one of which is dedicated entirely to tea and cheese. There are two doors leading out from the area, both of which are sealed tightly, but only one of which has an odd scrawl beside it. The door to the group's immediate left would read, in something akin to pink chalk,

    "<~~ THIS WAY."

    The handwriting is a bit hard to discern, and looks quite a lot like a childish scrawl. To belabor that point even further, the 'i' in the word 'this' is dotted with a vaguely floral shape rather than a simple dot. It would seem to beckon any who behold it onward, into the room beyond.

    The room is deathly quiet, like a mausoleum or an art gallery where the reduction of noise pollution is strictly enforced. The tapping of a shoe could be heard for miles. To that effect, there doesn't seem to be anyone else in the room, but once upon a turn of the head a paranoid viewer might see a dark blot, in a vaguely anthropomorphic shape, seated at a table or directly in front of them. The reason for this is unclear, though, so it's likely not consequential.

    The only other thing of note is a chair which has been pushed out further than all the others in its vicinity, and a shattered teacup by its legs. The liquid it might've contained is likewise splattered about the area.

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Here we are. This is safe. No more horrible hunting over here, right? Arthur settles near the laptop, grabbing it up in both hands and examining the pesterchum login. Huh! He continues his [S] Descent, and as he does, he checks the pending conversation, and, very likely, indulges it. Dream bubbles... He knows something about that. He knows that, in here, there's a tendency for him to take a role, or for someone else to, and so he'll follow along with any required script here while he descends...

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl offers Priscilla a small smile when she takes his hand, even for a moment. He does also note that she says nothing of not resenting him. He did mean it when he said he wouldn't blame her, so he merely accepts the possibility and shoulders it.

     Through the door they go, and they soon stand with others in a dining hall. Eryl does a quick headcount, a smile spreading across his face. "It is good to see you all. I realize that you all must have given up much to be standing here with me. So, while it is selfish of me to think so, I am glad you all escaped." Meanwhile, Original Face scans the area. Tea and cheese, in conjunction with the two people missing... "This is Father Faruja's Heaven."

     The childish scrawl draws his eye, naturally, as does the room beyond. He strides in purposefully, eyes flicking around and catching glimpse of the amorphous blob, which causes a pained grimace to cross his face, too tired to worry about keeping such things under wraps.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The Pesterchum window slides open to reveal two new messages from a familiar source:

MR: ...Arthur? :/
MR: ...Did you leave your messenger on again? >.>

    Those two sentences would continue to blink for some time before more begin to show.

MR: *sighs*
MR: You've been missing for a long time now, you know?
MR: Any longer and I might really start to think you're gone.
MR: Everyone else does already and being the only one who still thinks you'll come back is so :(
MR: I didn't see anything heroic about the way you died, honestly. I thought it was a pretty stupid death
MR: *sighs*
MR: Please answer these if you see them, okay?

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber literally used up the last remaining bits of patience with the last world he had to go into.

    This is why, to his latest end, he is pretty much just totally checked out by this point. He draws his flask from inside his jacket once more and shuffles along, taking another drink from it.

    Then it is placed back into his jacket as he just follows his prompts and hopes the ride will come to an end in the near future.

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla should be as equally glad to see Psyber, Homura and Kimiko as Eryl, and she can't imagine Arthur of all people being caught up in an illusion like this. That does indeed leave only Faruja as the sole remaining suspect, and the sight of the area speaks of the same. This place isn't a heaven of any kind. It clearly was once home to something happy, but now it lies in such a state of abandonment as to suggest that the intended viewer is never meant to see it again. At any point, Priscilla expects one of those blobs at the peripheral of her vision to resolve into something horrible, but rather than worry for the burmecian's sake, there is one thing she has to get out of the way first. Maintaining her initial stride as far as the main dining table, Priscilla calmly and collectedly summons her scythe, winds it way back over her head, and deliberately brings it smashing down into the spread with a deafening crash of shattering wood; puncturing the floor beneath it. Removing the blade from the ground, she slams one of the bisected chunks away with the blunt end of the head, sending it clattering and banging off into the dark in a fit of overpowering, completely silent anger. Only then does she turn towards the sign written in chalk, walking along with the steady scrape of metal over stone as she lets her weapon drag behind her.

    "Let us go."

Faruja (152) has posed:
It all clicks with sudden clarity, very nearly enough to knock the rat unconscious. Faruja's hand clings to the cross, holding him short from falling and drowning in shallow water.

"...Is not Faram's creations utterly beautiful? Truly. Every mortal person is a study in both God's perfection and the weakness of the mortal condition. I am hardly any different in that regard."

Faruja turns about, crosses his legs, and smiles.

"'Tis utterly pleasant. Ye didst well. Every comfort, and yet the pain of condition...so very close. I admit, ye hath sang a siren's song to mine every desire. Every comfort. And a lingering haze of pain to make it all seem close to reality."

A single finger rises.

"Ye simply left out a pair of small details and underestimated the value of whom Faruja Senra happens to be. I am a sinful, paranoid bastard with compatriots and friends whom I hardly deserve. Leaving out two whom art so close? May I be utterly reduced to ash before Lady Mizuki and Acolyte Strawberry art forgotten in anything close to 'Heaven'. For 'tis they that deserve eternal paradise ever before I. Nay! That a place shall be called Heaven without their presence is Heresy incarnate! A place I fear I shan't reach."

And thus, Priscilla manages to utterly end the illusion with a slam of her weapon upon a spread. Faruja's ears wince.

"...Right then." One hand rubbing his ear, the other drawing his Blaze Gun, Faruja pulls the trigger on the 'dear' priest Sendris.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko is along, but she is about one step short of somehow walking-catatonic. She's not going to really respond to anything else that happens unless it really singles her out. And even then, she won't be responding in any kind of effective fashion.

    Outside of a spiteful mind-reader, there is exactly one person who is aware of the details of what Kimiko went through, and she is unfortunately absent. That isn't the only presence that could help her at this point, but nothing anyone else can do will shake her more quickly out from where she is, dramatically more than Psyber already did.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The door would open into an infinitely long corridor of passages that are completely inarticulate and distorted -- a bit like a kaleidoscope if one were less angular. Still, one would be able to walk as normal and proceed just fine, as though there were some invisible path overlaying the walkway proper. Each segment of the hall would bring the group to a door, another door, another door, and so forth, until finally they reach the sanctum containing Faruja and the platinum cross. Sendris would be standing there, fully garbed in vestments of the clergy, nodding to Faruja's every word. They would smile their same smile as they all walk through the door, and bow.

    "Greetings. Let's not pretend that we do not know who I am." A pause. "... but here. My apology. I meant it, every word. One among you has yet to escape, but in a way, they've already escaped, so there is nothing left for you now but to reach out and take what is rightfully yours. Then this tempest of dreams and nightmares will be over in earnest." They would turn again to face the cross, but by the time they do so, it has departed. In its place lies a set of immaculate, pure white double-doors whose higher half is covered in curtains. Translucent, dangling, pretty things they are like the veil of a spiritual bride. Otherworldly in a way far more quiet than anything else here has yet been. The room, too, would alter itself, becoming more properly spherical and shrinking, placing a carpet a white carpet over ivory tiles, set against a blank wall flecked with shards of light.

    Sendris would be gone, now. The doors would open autonomously to reveal an infinite expanse of green grass. In the heart of it all, though, lies a peculiar aparatus. A chair, attached to something vaguely like a writer's desk, set in the heart of a slow, ginger rotation of pages. There is a figure seated in the heart of that aparatus, her eyes closed, her form entirely still. Her hands are folded at her waist as though she had been lain to her eternal rest, but her eyes are open.

    Gradually, she turns to look as the others enter the room. "Hello. Again."

Arthur Lowell has posed:
    Arthur remembers. Or, rather, he remembers what was supposed to happen, in this particular Heaven. Him, dying in the final battle of Sburb. Or something like that, right? He can't quite remember, but that's OK. He types a while. "Hahahaha yeah, it was pretty stupid, right? What an uncool way to die, chumping out there like a dweeb. Could have at least gone with a blaze of glory. It's alright, though. You've still got the friends, and the stuff, and the respect, and all that sorta shit. I know it sucks having me die, but better than you dying and me being the jackass who gets the cool prize, right? Hahahaha."

    He stares at the screen for a while, still not actually SENDING his message. For some reason, he remembers doing this, a lot. With a sort of resigned, somber contentedness, he holds down the delete key. Well, now he remembers why he could wander through everyone else's... Memory bubbles? Yeah, that must have been it. Must have gotten to some part of Paradox Space he wasn't supposed to go to, he thinks. He'll probably settle down somewhere, maybe on a memory of the battlefield, or just somewhere hidden off to the side of his friend's memories of Afterus. He never did get to see Afterus himself, of course, but he did get to see her memories of it, and he often makes a habit of watching her own dream bubble memory walking from a distance.

    It would seem Arthur, for his part, has outright lost to the Book of Heaven. He looks up from his Iguanatop as they come to rest, and just sort of curls up with his knees to his chest and his arms around his legs, sitting wherever he lands and watching old memories.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The chair would autonomously prop itself up with a few, metallic cranking noises, then lower itself to the ground with several more. This would place the resting figure on her feet, and upon stepping out of the sanctum of literature and into full view, everyone can see their full appearance: Mizuki. Or at least, someone identical to her. She would walk toward all of them and deliver a gentle curtsy hauntingly similar to the true lady's.

    "I really did try my hardest to make this heaven. Your heaven, and mine. My heaven would have been a world in which all our dreams could happily coincide, and I could know, eternally, that I made you happy. A reality where, each day, we could greet eachother in bliss, and I would never again have to see you suffering. The only issue is precisely what Faruja pointed out: I am too shallow yet to see the full panorama of any of your minds. I miss spots. There are imperfections and incongruities. As much as my Authorial Foresight picks up and registers in my inaccessible subconscious, even that is simply not enough to build your ideal worlds. And for that, I am very sorry."

    "And," She would continue, bearing the monotone of the warden but all the features of the girl who had brought them here, "I am sorry for treating you like my toys. It's simply a thing in my nature, that -- to feel as though I have some sort of absolute primacy over narratives, and the characters therein. But unfortunately, viewing people in this manner only makes it that much more difficult for me to understand them. I have contemplated allowing this whole game to end outright so that I may... 'reincarnate' someplace where I may be better taught the ways and methods of conversing with people. Forming relationships. I greatly lament my isolated life prior to these past several months more and more as each second ticks by. But alas."

    "I am rambling, somewhat, but I will clarify this much: there never was any Warden. I am the Warden, and I am not. The Mizuki that you return to will have little or no knowledge of this beyond a deep, sinking regret. Please, try not to blame her for what I have done. We are the same, but different. To put it crudely I might say that I am her without inhibition, but I am not truly that either. I believe I may be... her innocence. Just a fragment of it that yearns more than anything for a world diverted from this ridiculous system of life and death, suffering and loving. Though, at the very least, you have taught me something. Do you know what it is?" Smile.

    "That no such world can exist on the merits of one being. Any world that tries will collapse upon itself in a swirl of preconception and incompleteness which nothing could ever hope to reconcile. In short, because of this night, she will ever remember how much she needs you to achieve her goals. And that, mercy tell, may yet forestall her aspirations alltogether."

Eryl Fairfax has posed:
     Eryl listens patiently as the twist to this place is revealed. So, Mizuki herself is the Warden. Or a fragment of her, anyway. And all this was her trying to make everyone happy... well, he has some words for that.

     "Warden. You disappeared before we could speak earlier. Let me just say, what you do here is... appreciated. But you are approaching it the wrong way." He shakes his head and offers a smile. He still recalls the panic he went into earlier, but he doesn't hold it against her. Innocence can be a cruel thing, after all.

     "For one, people like us... we still have too much to do. Too much to aspire towards outside of here. But there are people who do not have aspirations anymore. People who have had a trying life, full of struggle and broken dreams, to the point that it might be called unsalvageable. Those people, I think, could benefit greatly from this place."

     He offers the Warden a bow. "Should this place survive what is to come... I think I might discuss that with Mizuki. Ultimately, it would be up to her. But I do think this place could be a great boon to some." He stands up straight and smiles. "And, on a more personal note... thank you for showing me what you did. You have only made me want to make it a reality even more. After a century, it became somewhat dim in my mind. Seeing it complete... it did make me happy. So, once again, thank you."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja Senra, peering at the image of one of his best friends, barks out a hideously bitter laugh.

"...My, my, my. Frightening. Ye give thineself far too little credit, mine dear." Then, a shrug.

"'Heaven upon the land shall come only at the Lord's bidding'. 'Tis a proverb of Ivalice, Mizuki. Ye art quite correct in that much. Only a miracle beyond mortals shall ever see perfection upon mine, or any land. For we art sinful, ever seeking in our greed and imperfection to conquer our fellows."

A deep sigh. His best friend, even if in some strange subconscious, just tried to drown him in his own dreams and desires. His hands tremble, anger in his eye, fury on the tip of his tongue.

But the priest softens at the last second, glare turned away.

"...Never give up faith. Faith, that perfection may yet visit this land, and others. If not in God, then believe in those whom love ye. For /love/, Mizuki, is the foundation of a perfect world."

Teeth grit, and he whirls 'round once more, robes and tail aflutter.

"Yet doth not think we shan't hath WORDS over this! I hardly appreciate having mine every struggle, sweat, blood and toil for a better world made mockery of without the presence of those whom I care most for upon it! Remember that! Some dreams must be crushed to fulfill others, and Faram forgive me, I am hardly immune to such greed for thine sake ye cruel, naieve slice of mine compatriot's psyche! A Heaven without ye is the Abyss itself, ye damned fool! I am quite done with losing those close to me! Slap the bloody sense into..." Mutter mutter mutter. With that, the rat is fit to storm out. Only then does he pause, and turn to the others. Cue a headcount.

"...Where in the bloody abyss is Ser Lowell?"

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla enters the final room ready to take the warden's head. In all other circumstances, she has been nothing but respectful of Mizuki's personal world, and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps nearly as much as the Author herself, she had loathed to see anything befall the people and places she'd only just been able to meet, even when called for by necessity. Even though she'd known what she was getting into the minute she'd entered the Book of Heaven however, there is nothing she can do to stop the churning of silent misery and rage boiling within her chest, sewn by the subject of her dream, sparked by its last few, spitefully twisted moments, and inflamed by the humiliation of having it happen in the presence of another person.

    It is only the fact that the warden looks exactly like Mizuki that stays her hand for just long enough for it to speak, though listening to it is almost more than she can bear. There are hundred different things she wants to say, most of which conflict with one other, as sympathy mixes with outrage and pity mixes with disgust. In the end however, even as the others take it upon themselves to make their voices heard, all Priscilla can do for Mizuki, even if it isn't really Mizuki, is to drop her scythe, take steps across the room as swiftly and purposefully as she had used to get there, raise her hand as if to slap her across the face, and then throw her arms around her instead; squeezing her tight.