2176/Sharing Reflections

Sharing Reflections
Date of Scene:	06 May 2015
Location:	Hundred Forged Fire Manse
Synopsis:	Ainsley has a question for Amalthea
Cast of Characters:	151, 395

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Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Since the debacle involving Nathan Hall throwing himself in a murderous charge upon Elliana Fairchild's tree fortress, The Drasillium... Amalthea has been... Reclusive. Reticent on radio and barely seeing anyone aside from her own family members.
    The truth is. She has not moved from her office. Sitting in her favorite chair. Whether she's been eating or sleeping is up for debate, but for days she has not budged from her lazyboy recliner. Sometimes she would prop her chin on her fist. Sometimes she would sit back. She has not left her seat for days, crumples bags of junky snack foods left on her desk, along with day old tepid tea, and something of an odder sight. A modified Amusphere, wired into the manse as its power source. Though that's off at the moment.
    Gone are the rainbows and sparkles, her hair is a stark ghostly white shade, and her eye speaks of the haggard weariness of centuries.

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley would've made sure it's okay before visiting. Amalthea is one of a handful of people she is very worried about offending, because she cares about the unicorn's state. Eventually the lizard girl would find herself in the office, slipping into the room with a polite silence, so that she doesn't aggravate any potential headaches. The lizard girl is holding a book to her chest with an illustration of a mirror on the cover.
    She steps up to a healthy distance from Amalthea and looks at the unicorn, silently questioning. She's not sure if she should even say anything... the rainbows having faded from the poor creature's hair and left something in front of Ainsley that reminded her of the tragedies of the Multiverse.
    There's a flicker on Ainsley's face, a furrow of her brows and a tired look of her own... Her hands tightened on the book with a creak of old leather.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    "Sit."
    Even in her fugue state of disappointment and mild irritable ennui, Ainsley is not one of the people Amalthea would turn away. It's a moment before the unicorn fully pulls herself from the depths of her thoughts, the only indication at first being the upward glance of that vivid blue eye, while the rest of her remains utterly motionless.
    Fingers flex with a buzz of motors, curling repeatedly as if her hand was left unused for a few days, and judging from her state, she might not have moved for nearly as long. But finally she sits up slowly.
    "Ainsley. Was there something you wished to discuss?"

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley finds a seat, and shows only sympathy toward Amalthea. It's not voiced, but it's obvious in her face. She knows pain, but she doesn't know the depths of foggy grey that the unicorn has been dealing with for a while now. The lizard girl waits to be prompted, and rests the mirror book in her lap. She opens it, the pages apparently just as old and constantly treated and restored.
    "As long as you have known me, I have felt I was uncertain of who I am or who I am supposed to be. Constantly I am held down by this feeling, especially when I see my efforts fail to compare to those around me, when I notice my mistakes, when I see the pain that you... and all of my other friends and loved ones feel. I need to be stronger for all of you."
    "I have a solution here... But even if I create the object to do it, I am unsure. Many have expressed doubt about the chances of success. Faruja believes it could end in tears. I have not explained to them why I yearn for this so much... not directly."

    She holds the book out to Amalthea, in the hopes that she will accept it. "I wanted to be honest with you. Even the people I love don't know the depths of importance this has for me... You've shown me so much, helped me understand and helped me become stronger as a person. Here... I want you to tell me whether this is a foolish idea or not. Should I find answers in viewing my soul?"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amalthea is silent for a time, simply staring with that endless blue eye as Ainsley sits and speaks, one loppy ear twitching lightly in a display of rapt attention now that the unicorn has been pulled from her internal world. And when the book is passed over, Amalthea takes it, glancing down at the binding, before reaching for her desk for her mug of day old tea, sipping slowly as she flips the tome open and begins to peruse the contents.
    "This is your solution?" She asks at first. A simple question as that eye flicks up from the pages to bore into Ainsley with a silent weight closing the text after apparently reading enough. "Before I answer what I think. Tell me what you think you will see."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    "Certainty."
    Ainsley looks Amalthea in the eye. The look is... intense. As if it's possibly the ONLY thing she is sure of. "I see so much darkness around me, so much death, and I see it growing on the horizon. I see people living or dying based on my decisions, because some already have. Regret, sorrow, anger... Agonizing over what I did and what I may have to do, instead of finding ways to better lives of others, instead of thinking of how they feel." Her voice goes quiet, with a certain intensity, like a miserable anger with her circumstances had brought her emotions to a restrained boil. There's not even a flicker of shaking in her voice.
    "I want to see it for myself, because I have responsibilities to other lives now. And my uncertainty cannot be abided if I am to help anyone."

    "So... Certainty, painful or not."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Certainty, is it? Silver lips purse in a moue of mild thought as the unicorn passes the book back. A soft sigh filters through her teeth ahs she sinks into the cushion of her chair, doll-jointed fingers slowly lacing together.
    "If certainty is what you believe you will see, then it will be so." She finally decides, thumbs tapping together lightly with a metal on metal clink. But then her head tilts.
    "Certainty of the now."
    The unicorn lets that hang there for a moment before moving on to clarify. "But even certainty changes. Perhaps the instant you see it. Perhaps not for a year. Two. Ten. Fifty. It is only natural, after all, for a mortal soul to be as mutable and fluid as the life it leads."
    Finally she gives something of a more solid answer, however. "There is no foolishness in what you desire. So long as you know it is not static. And that you can alter it as you see fit with your life."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley accepts the book and creases her brow as Amalthea speaks. She contemplates the words given to her. She nods in silent thought at the advice the unicorn gives to her. Her intensity has faded away again, and a somber smile begins to show on the lizard girl's face.

    After this, she gathers herself up to a stand, and steps toward Amalthea, leaning in to try to give the unicorn a light hug, very gently, to show gratitude for her honesty where she cannot otherwise find words for it. These sort of gestures were rare.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is with an aged and ancient wisdom that the unicorn has given her answer, and she has given it to the best of her ability. A little shift, and in a rare moment, Amalthea allows the hug, one arm lightly hooking around the scholar for a soft pat of the back, before detaching. And with that, she once again sits back, hissing steam softly, in an almost thoughtful manner.
    "Remember. Mortal souls are as mutable as the life they lead. A soul as white as the sun can tarnish to black, just as easily as a soul as black as the night can crawl back into the light." She says before almost seeming to indicate Ainsley herself. "Just as a soul that is lost and grey can forge its own path."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    When the hug breaks, Ainsley smiles to the unicorn with a gentle stare. She really does think of Amalthea as a dear friend. The words are taken, and she speaks to the unicorn in a soft voice, "I'll tell you what color my soul is, when I see it."

    She does a curtsey toward Amalthea, and grips the book back to her chest. "Thank you."

    She looks down for a second, and then up to Amalthea and says, "I am sure there is still light in your soul... and Nathan's, and Psyber's..." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "I hold hope that you may all recover from those events, in time. I see it all only as a distant observer, and I cannot help wonder what I could do to help, yet know that I could never do much for any of you, once I had tried."

    "Your strongly colored heart is what taught me hope," she tells Amalthea, the gentle smile remaining. "I see that as yet another positive influence you have had on me."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is something Ainsley says that actually brings a scowl upon silver features. Though after a beat the unicorn manages to restrain it. "Do not bring up that foolish leader of men with me right now." She... Means Nathan, clearly there as her fingers curl against the arm rest of her seat. "It's not my soul I worry for, anyway."
    Her venom passes after a moment in a slow breath and she swings off to the next topic, not dwelling on it.
    "Yes, do tell me. I'll be here and willing to hear it. I am glad at least you have learned that much."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    A strange stoicism replaces the smile, for a moment, training from a long time ago. It comes up instead of the instinct to appear startled. A subtle watering of her eyes might be noticed here while she fights chaotic emotion that gets drawn up by Amalthea's current state. Ainsley breathes in and then out, and nods at Amalthea, not pursuing the subject past that point, at least not with Nathan.

    "Thank you, again," she says, nodding once. Then she turns, prepared to leave and continue down this path that she's set out on.