View source for 572/Calculus, Reads, and Feels

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|Date of Scene=2014/09/10
|Location=A Quiet World
|Synopsis=Tales of a sullen nature and numbers with sour connotations. 
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=33, 183
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{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Somewhere in the far back of the library is a tiny room apart. A cluttered storage closet sort of place, or the area where sensitive chemicals might be kept in a lab. This is her designated place of study for Calculus, and where she has been trying to beat the concepts and equations associated with derivatives into her head. To be honest, the 'why's are still pretty shaky, but at least the operations are starting to make some sense! Chances are pretty good that's because Arthur pointed out the shortcuts in her textbook. Yeeesss, Mizuki; if you subtract the exponent by one and multiply by whatever number is out front, you'll get a derivative. Oh, and the derivative of sine is consine! Things like that make things much less of a hassle.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But inevitably, she grows bored of the practice problems, and suggests that they both take five. But as she had said earlier: 'There is another reason I invited you here'. Now, in the present, that other reason comes to light. "I have a story for you. A special sort of story in that it is more quiet in nature than that one I read before. That novel was meant to be entertaining. This one..." She cradles her cheek in her hand. "... well, you'll see."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On the way, she asks him some questions that seem idle. Knowing her, though, and literature teachers in general, they may be linked to -something-. "Have I ever told you about 'The Seekers', perchance?" She glances back at him, but not so much that she can't watch her steps at the same time. "And do you know of the Earth constellation Cygnus?" She lets those hang in the air while she rifles through a number of books on the top shelf. Far too impatient to ask Fenestra for the ladder, she's using her wings to keep her up as she searches.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Ah!" Theeere we go. "Here we are." She alights gently on the tile beside Arthur, flipping open the cover and cycling through the pages. She levels her gaze with his and smiles, leading him back to the center of the room, and to the fountain. She soon sits down on its rim, crossing her legs and holding the decently sized tome in her lap for the time being. "A quick disclaimer, before we begin: no, this story will not suck you inside of it. I shall be conjuring images to aid in the storytelling, but they will be quite incorporeal, and I am certain you will find them all perfectly innocuous." Smile. "But. Shall we~?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Arthur's actually pretty quiet if you get him in a very private, very comfortable context. Seems like he's been a lot less brash and loud about things, the intellectual side of him being much more prominent. You know, when he's not overcompensating immediately after being teased about it. He's definitely not averse to taking a break, though, guy never minds the chance to socialize more casually.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Huh. Well, if it's not meant for being entertaining, sounds like it's got a more important purpose." The boy follows along with his usual relaxed posture, casually drifting weightlessly alongside Mizuki. "Seekers..." Arthur takes on a contemplative posture. "Don't think you have, sorry. That, or I was doing something dumb when you did, wasn't paying attention, that sorta thing." A sheepish grin and a shrug.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There's also a nod about Cygnus. "Yep." He says, simply. "Lotta godly myth around that one. Friend of mine took some inspirations off of it for a few of the constellations on Afterus, way I heard it. What about it?"<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He's staying around the floor while Mizuki flies around, then keeping a pleasant, social pace alongside Mizuki as she heads back to the center, Arthur himself taking a seat - either at any designated chairs used for this sort of story reading, or simply gently coming to rest seated near Mizuki's side, on the fountain's rim. "Well," He says, grinning. "Not every story can do the interactive thing, I know how that goes. Promise I won't be disappointed or anything by just having some visual aid instead."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mizuki had a hunch that he might be quieter if she brought him to a library, whether by virtue of his own psychological quirks or because... well. It's a library. He's certainly seen the stereotypical, long-nosed librarians that hiss visitors into silence. Fenestra seems like quite the far cry from that, though. In fact, she seems like she might be the least 'hissy' librarian in the history of time. But all of the mass speculation aside, Mizuki seems to appreciate it, smiling just a bit more radiantly than is her norm because of it.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"The tricky thing about writing," She says with a casual raise of her finger, "is that the 'purpose' shifts based on who is reading, and how it is perceived. This reading certainly has a purpose, but I earnestly forgot what it was as soon as I brought you here." Flipping open the first page, she shoots him a little grin. "But there are enough things in this world filled with artificial, forced meanings. Well enough that I have my quiet ones to give in thanks to those who see fit to visit me here." She glances to the page a moment before continuing. "Anyway. The Seekers are something of a personal task force. Even though most of them have scythes, staves, or some approximation of a long and mysterious 'stick', they are fairly incompetent in fights by and large. Aside from the two you know." She allows for a pause so he can process that. "... the sisters, of course. Callia and Palora are actually the overseers of The Seekers, though they themselves do not count among their ranks. But to put it simply: The Seekers are all people -- children, almost always -- who have lived lives more trying than any being should ever have to. They are people that I grant asylum here, with the stipulation that they find more souls like themselves while they spend the happiest eternity that they can here in my home." She gently brushes one of her bangs aside. "Prevalent because this is the book I wrote about one such person. A person who was my very dear friend until they finally found the courage to move on."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Glancing back to book and flipping a page, she answers again. "Cygnus was the name he gave himself when he arrived here. He had an affinity for it as well, and he loved the thought of flying." She shuts her eyes a moment, wistfully. "Always thought it would bring him closer to the stars he so loved, when he was young." She inhales... and exhales. Her next words come out a bit more loudly, with the sort of relief typically exhibited by a teacher when they are ready to give a lecture, or a public speaker before their sermon. "But I believe that is all the preamble this story really needs. Don't fret -- what I'm reading is an abbreviation. I have no intention of keeping you here all night long, naturally." And with that, she dives right in.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"There was a town on a hill overlooking a beautiful meadow of white lilies. The place was one of tranquillity, but as those who had lived in days past knew and wisely kept to themselves, the air was stale. Growing more stale every day, in fact, as the skies above them slowly ceased to cycle between day and night, and the winds that once called the flowers to sway ceased their movement. But even in worlds where everything is fading away, there can be life, and there was one day born a boy with hair as silver as the skies above him. A boy who, since the day he was born, could not walk, but found solace in the local doves that came to visit him. But that was not all he had -- he also had the stars. And the moon."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Arthur is clearly entirely attentive here, leaning forward and propping himself up with an elbow on his knee. "Delegating bringing folks in to the folks you bring in. Sounds like a good idea. Even with all your time shenanigans, you're only in one place at a time. Or, y'know, two, I suppose, if you count the second place you are as you." He grins at that little joke. Then there's a more somber look. Hmmm, someone who was dear to her and moved on. Serious stuff. "Sounds heavy." He says, frankly. "Anyone who was a good friend of yours was probably a good guy. I'd definitely like to hear about him. Always nice to know about fans of the stars."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He listens closely. He's going to refrain from commentary, but this is already starting out a little heavily, and so he's taken the proper postures. Dying worlds and crippled children. Not the place for his usual jokes and brash yelling, even moreso than the library itself.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mizuki pauses a moment to take a sip from a glass of water she procured from nowhere in particular, and to nod to Arthur. "Yes. Really, though, you don't want to know what happens to people who come here and linger unbidden. Many of the shades - those inky shadow beings you've fought, for reference - come from foreign places originally, you know." She sighs. "... anyone who wishes to live here must be heavily adapted. This usually involves the seperation of soul from body, and the destruction of one's physical form. But that's a bit of a digression." When he seems to tense up a little bit, she reaches out to pat his shoulder, if he's within reach, or stands to do so if he isn't. "Don't fret it. I do miss him, but I have welcomed and seen off many more than just him in the time that I've been alive. Asides, his story has a truly happy end - he came to terms with his life before, and was even able to live among the stars themselves for nearly 50 years relative to a common calender."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She clears her throat. "But yes, it is my sincere hope that you will find some traits within him that you can relate to. Once upon a night ago when my thoughts were not so addled, that may even have been one of the reasons why I felt so compelled to read this to you in particular." She widens her grin just a bit before going on.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"But how, you might wonder, would one see stars in a world where days no longer shifted? Where the world no longer turned? Well, that second detail was not so much damning as it was liberating, for you see, the tapestry of the heavens itself had become static. As such, there were some parts of the sky that had been paused just when the glittering celestials had begun to peek from the clouds above. One such area rested above the highest point in the boy's town."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Yes, it was a place overgrown with grass and home to none but the aforementioned doves and a wispy, shrivelled tree barely powerful enough to hold itself aloft of the grass beneath it. There the boy went, day after day, resting the flat of his palm on the tree's bark with one of the last telescopes left to humanity by their progenitors. With it, he would stare into the sky and create constellations of his own -- the Northeastern Cross, was one. Ilium, the harp, was another. He would content himself with tales of how the wayward minstrel Monte Claire would fetch Ilium from its place in the heavens, and then follow the trail of stars left by the cross to find new cities to play in. He would share tales of this journey with those others still left in his village, who would reward his zeal and creativity with smiles and praise, and all of the modest bouquets that they could muster."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Truly, the boy's was a happy life. Even if he was ill, the world was too, and those living in that land of decay still saw fit to share with him what little they could of that rarest of commodities: happiness. But there was a conundrum -- with each unpassing day, or perhaps every invisible month or so, another of the village would succumb to a plague that none would ever know existed. Two in recent memory had left him this way: Onasus, the kindly old baker who had helped him conjure Monte Claire's name, and Silvia, a dear friend of his long-departed mothers that had watched over him."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"But she was not the only one to take care of him, no; the entire village was his family, and they remained always together. Even as the world silently grew ever closer to the end of its life, as all the people were nearing the ends of theirs, the boy never stopped smiling. And telling stories. He would continue to connect the stars for any and all who would listen, raising his voice at the crescendos of activity and lowering it with the falls. That zeal for his stories never left him, even as the number of people left around him began to fall to that which he could count with his hands and immobile toes."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Arthur's posture remains the same, contemplative and somber. "Dying friends and a dying world. Makes sense to find anything you can to get... Lifted spirits. Guy needs to find whatver he can in a situation like that to be able to keep going." It's rather blatantly obvious that Arthur's connecting very well with that; it'd be easy to see, for Mizuki, a bit of connection he feels with the story already, when it comes to trying to be enthusiastic when there's apocalyptic things going on...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Gotta say, I hope my stars can make someone happy like that. Y'know, maybe with a bit less world death going on." A bit of a sheepish grin and scratching of the head, and then he's looking somber again. "Jeeze, cut down to that few, though... Ergh. A plague like that sounds kinda terrifying. Must have been tough, keeping that spirit up..."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Without lifting her eyes from the book, Mizuki nods, breaking away from the story for another moment or two. "I've not been to Afterus, so I cannot say for certain, but I believe your stars have certainly made someone happy. There are always those in worlds, sometimes even when they're beings as simple-minded as your local salamanders, who become endeared to mundane things. Simple things that are always there, but still find their way of being beautiful." She does perpetrate a small invasion of privacy now to lift her eyes from the page, studying Arthur's expression briefly. At it, she smiles; it would appear that she was right in at least some capacity. She continues to intermittently look to him from then on throughout the reading to ensure that the narrative isn't cutting too deeply or otherwise chafing him, but something tells her that he can tank it. What with what he had already tanked and all.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"And one day, there were but two left in the entire village. The boy and an elderly old man who had shown him his first constellation when he was younger. An old man who had lived before the air had lost its energy, and before the world ceased to move. He had long since lost the ability to walk as the boy had, but still they found their way to the top of the hill once every day to point out old constellations, and to locate new ones. The boy continued to smile smiles that gave the old man hope where there was none, but within him, something started to stir. As life had begun to falter right before him, he had begun to think that something was wrong. That none of this was supposed to happen. He had already lost his mother and his father, his godmother and his friends. Though he would always laugh, and grin, and chant the story of the stars, he began to search fervently for a way to change things. This once, he wanted to save someone. He didn't want the old man to die."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"But as it always did, the illness set in far too quickly. The boy found the old man motionless in his house one day, and frantically wheeled over to him. 'Is he breathing?', he frantically thought. 'Is he dead? Am I finally alone?'. Thankfully, he was, and he was not. With a gasp of relief, the boy hoisted the man on to his own chair, and traveled up the hill again."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"When he got there, he fervently called out the names of the stars. 'Monte Claire has found a new city,' He cried. 'He is coming to us, now. He will sing for us.' The man smiled and nodded as he always had, but he was too weak to speak. So the boy spoke for him until his whimsical tales finally gave way to tears, and then an elegy for the world. But by then, the man could no longer hear him. He simply stayed where he was, his hands folded at his waist, that smile permanently etched on to his countenance."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I could say how he buried the man afterwards, laying the last of the white lilies remaining in the valley below as a grave marker. I could say how he spent the next month or year in isolation, mourning as the last of his kind on the planet... but I won't. For what do you say of one who has lost everything? Who has watched their entire world unravel right before their eyes?" She glances up at Arthur briefly, before looking away again. "Nothing. You either understand, or you do not. The person either finds peace, or they do not. But I saw no reason not to help the latter to be true, if I could, and I took him in." Mizuki shuts the book now, gently. "And the rest is simple history. He helped me to reorganize the night sky of my world while he was here, which lasted until I altered it again for that little demonstration I gave several nights ago. He also gave me no small measure of happiness in his company, while also leaving me with thoughts on how I could help others like him should I ever meet them in the future." She smiles faintly. "... but even so, I wish that you could have met him. I feel you would've made good friends."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yeah, this is very definitely and very clearly getting to Arthur a little. The enthusiastic storytelling as a coping mechanism, the death of the world, the loss of almost everyone he cared about... Arthur is, quietly, a little more thankful that he managed to get through it all with at least a friend or two. Trying to imagine not having that is an exercise in at least a little bit of tragic conjecture.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Y-yeah." Arthur says, his voice very distinctly uncool for a moment. "Sounds... He sounds like a cool kid. Toughed through a lot of heavy stuff, still keeping his spirits up with something like that going on around him." There's a bit of a dry swallow that would be pretty obviously seen. "Probably would have been good friends, yeah. Seems like a rad kind of guy to be around. Seems like... Seems like he could definitely understand a lot." There's a bit of a curious look seeping into the seriousness on Arthur's expression. "So, it sounds like you helped him get some peace before he moved on, then. What sort of... Well, what'd he teach you about helping people like him, then?"<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;You know, not that Arthur feels a vague, subconscious, intense sympathy with parts of this sort of scenario. Definitely just a bit of curiosity. "Sounds like there's a bit more to the story when you finally met him. Or, at least, I guess when your Seekers did, if I'm getting this right." He scratches his head a little awkwardly. "Man, those scythes are carrying plenty of ominous implications now, huh? Aheheh... Ahhm. Mmm." An awkward attempt at humor before Arthur falls silent, fidgeting a little.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She sets the book down on the side of the fountain and walks back over to Arthur, giving him another, gentle pat on the shoulder. It's a fine line to tread between actually being comforting and just making him more nervous, she knows, but she couldn't just sit there and not do anything. Thankfully, though, he prompts plenty of conversation that will help keep things calm.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Well, firstly, he taught me that tragedy is not at all the romantic situation that my books and other media make it out to be, and that constantly pestering him about his past was more self-indulgent than it was helpful." She folds her hands. "He took away many of the assumptions I had harbored regarding situations of great tragedy, and the people involved with said situations. That was monumental step forward for me as someone who seeks to communicate with and heal people who have been grievously hurt."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His little quip regarding the scythes does actually earn a smile, and a nod. "Yes, quite. This world is equal parts dreamworld and afterlife, and the motif of death carries some concrete weight." She's silent for a few moments afterwards before she is able to gather her thoughts again. "... I won't say who, but I recently had a discussion with someone regarding what it is like to feel that pain, and to take the weight of tragedy upon oneself. It led my intuition to you, and I felt an almost overwhelming desire to share Cygnus's story afterwards. I still haven't the foggiest idea why I did so, but if it perhaps helped you to feel as though your troubles, while never forgotten, can be healed, or that there are always more in the world who understand than you believe... then I am glad. I am certain you have far more support than I am aware of already, but I have something of a compulsion when I know someone has been through something tragic. Equal parts a desire to help them as it is a desire on my part to understand them, really." She rests a cheek in her hand. "My curiosity can be rather depraved."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She sighs again, allowing for another pregnant pause as she goes to gaze into the waters of the fountain. "All these years helping people who have been through nightmares and come out unscathed, and yet I still understand so little of tragedy. Truly, must one experience it for themselves to mature past a certain point, but..." She shakes her head, face taking on a smile that seems somehow... pained. "... I shall save that quantity of self-aggrandizing for another time, and another place, when I have not so callously invaded another's privacy as I have tonight. Though I would like very much to hear your account of your past one day, I'll not push for it, particularly if you would rather leave the old wounds closed. But... hmm." She closes her eyes, tapping a finger to her chin. "I think that might've been the reason why I did all of this, actually. To open up new avenues of conversation for us. The only other conversations of depth I've had since coming here were with Staren and Psyber, and... well. The former hasn't seen what you have seen, and the latter is quite notoriously busy. And on top of all of that, you are particularly interesting, what with how you hide things under the proverbial rug of your social facade." Hiding her expression with her sleeve, she turns to face him again. "Earnestly, one must wonder if you're only so loud because you're... shy. And considering the life you've lived, those innocent qualities of yours are remarkably well-preserved, to say the least."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There's a moment where Arthur's mind flashes back a bit.<br /><br />Dad Lowell is choking out a Dersite with Mom Powers in the back of a car, while Bro O'Brien attempts to ramp it off of and away from the body of the Black King. It's very much a moment of real, pure actiony triumph, a dramatic symbol of conquering and a genuinely cool sort of thing. Until, of course, the Black King lashes the car out of the air and slams it into the ground, impaling Bro on the steering column to inflict a mortal wound that will kill him in several hours, and instantly snapping Dad's spine in the midst of a triumphant moment.<br /><br />The corpse that was tossed from the wreck of the car was, unfortunately, the first time Arthur had seen his father in several weeks. Arthur himself would not be seen on the Battlefield for some three days afterwards, for unknown cause.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Arthur shakes his head. "Yeah, it's... That sorta death, losing people you care about just at random, it's... Yeah, it's not romantic. Sounds like you definitely understood him, a lot." Another dry swallow. "It's good to hear you learned so much from him. That kind of respectful support's a real help. You know, for... People who'd be caught up in that kind of thing. Probably. I dunno much about it myself." Eyes being averted and a lot of fidgeting make this lie saturated in "tell". He leans a bit into the patting quietly, taking a bit of comfort from it.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When Mizuki discusses the motif of the afterlife, and then brings up Arthur's support, there's a bit of a fidgeting shift. "R... Right." He says. "I mean, I don't... I don't really need anything like that. Y'know, got over that stuff fine. Found a dude, totally responsible for all of the bad shit going on in my life, got a good chance to beat him to death. That's all you need, right?" The nervousness creeping into the ensuing brief laugh make it clear that the answer is actually no.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"A-anyway, I can tell you some stories, I suppose, sometime. It's... Jeeze. It's a really long story. Nothing very simple. A lot of... Well, it's a year and a half long. Maybe something best broken into some chapters, huh?" More nervous laughing, then he has a contemplative look about him. "Y'know, maybe I can give you, let's say, a little sample. A bit of my own writing. Kinda crappy. But, y'know. You seem interested anyway. Might be worth reading."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As Mizuki talks about his shyness, there's a lot of fidgeting, a lot of shifting around, a lot of uncomfortable movements that show it's hitting home, but... He's trying not to speak much about it. He's trying to just clam up on it. But he does give the "sample" he promised; there's a quick flick of one hand. It's his own magic, not Mizuki's world, so the object he's summoned is permanent. A slim sheaf of paper, held together by a small steel clip styled with a peculiar symbol: @<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Its contents: http://pastebin.com/VcLtCagw<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mizuki nods along with Arthur's first verbal reply... until he attempts to deflect personal involvement with tragedy in just about the most transparent conceivable way. Rather than earning a nod, that earns a reserved sigh, and what might be the first genuine frown he has ever seen from the girl. "Arthur, you may remain cool and untouchable in my eyes for the rest of our time knowing eachother if you so wish, but please. There is a depth to your character that you fight so hard to cover up. It's well and good if you make boundaries, being the little God of Space that you are," An attempted smirk on her part there, "because certainly, some do not have the right to know certain things. But always remember that there is a place where the facade ends and the rest of you begins. I can understand survivor's guilt in the sense that I have watched others suffer my entire life long without accruing any pain of my own, but that should only make me more qualified to tell you: you are a good person. You have been strong." There's a pause before she quietly adds, "... for Creation's sake, give yourself time to heal. Accepting oneself in the wake of that sort of pain can feel impossible, but... the chance. You must give yourself the chance." She closes her eyes briefly. "... pardon me if I was out of line. I have something of a vested interest in seeing you open up to yourself more."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The insistence upon the worth of revenge garners a clear and apparent wrinkling of her facial muscles, but she doesn't comment. She simply shakes her head in a way that would clearly say 'That's absurd, and I know that you don't mean that'. Her expression does have an opportunity to ease up in-between topics, and by the time he's discussing the length of the story, she's at least half smiling again. She nods her head at the mention of a 'sample'. "... your story will make a phenomenal novel. One that will be shared across the Multiverse and prevent far more deaths and unfortunate situations that you could ever have had in yours, no matter how long and how gruesome it was." She places a hand to her chest, the theatrics apparently resurfacing with her smile. "... for that is the power of the story. That it can link the hearts and minds of cultures, nations, continents... and now, even worlds and species. That it can unite them in facing the harshness of reality with bravery and." She closes her eyes. "In recording your journey, you have already saved so many lives. I am certain that, if you think, you will recall times when your experiences have allowed you to give counsel to others that has saved them grief. The most overt example would certainly be Mister Vruasa's journey."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And with that, she rests her tongue with another deep breath, facing the poor fidgeting boy with a renewed smile. Her eyes are more oval-shaped than usual, and less catlike. More bright... and more pure. He might get the impression that she is actually showing him something she usually keeps hidden as well, albeit something vastly more subtle than most others would pick up on. The look doesn't last long, though, and her eyes regain their normal look after a close of her eyelids. "... I fear my thoughts are trailing off, but as you already know: you are ever welcome here. And..." She bows her head to him. "... thank you for your trust. It is meaningful to have someone not be afraid of allowing me to know some of their history." She emits another, faint giggle. "... if I need any sustenance at all, it is history itself. The addictions and afflictions of a bibliophile, hmm...?"<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now it's her turn for a little, awkward grin.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There's a little wince at that frown. Gah! There's a lot of unease, Arthur's been set off of his balance pretty severely with the push. Though, MIzuki's own astute awareness of this sort of healing should be able to tell it's not really unhappy, just uncomfortable. "No, it's... It's not out of line." He mumbles, a bit. "Sorry." There's not a lot he seems to be able to say here; his expression shifts a few times, as if he's about to say something, before realizing he can't really compose anything articulate or coherent to say about this. Plenty being said nonverbally, though.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The second bit of advice, about his story, gets a bit of a grin and a laugh. "Hahaha... Yeah. Man. I was kind of a spaz back then. Vru was too, though. We all kinda had to keep each other from completely fucking up." He leans back a little, looking up, as if nostalgic. "Spent about a year fighting along with him. Did you know..." He holds back a chuckle. "First time we met? Vruasa broke into my house as he was gonna stab me with his spear, 'cause he thought I'd broken everything. He's... Heh, kinda the reason I was convinced everything was my fault, for a while. But, that's kinda tangential. You're right, is the point. Had a bit of help doing it, but, yeah, this sort of thing can definitely be worth the help it gives people."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There's a bit of a relaxed, comfortable posture when she thanks him. "Hey," He says. "Not a problem." There's a few shyer sorts of fidgets, his hands rubbing against each other in his lap while his shoulders work awkwardly. "Not really had anyone go after knowing about it much, before, you know? Not like you'll do anything bad with it. If you wanted something from me, I owe the Union enough favors you could just ask, and hurting me, that'd be easy around here. So, you know, eliminate all the alternatives, only thing left is you being trustworthy, right? Might as well give you what you're after, if you're really wanting to help and you've got the experience to back that up."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:183|Mizuki (183)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At all of the nonverbal communication, Mizuki just continues to smile a warm, safe sort of smile. Heaven forbid, it's almost genuinely demure, which would look awfully strange on her if it didn't simultaneously look so natural. This is clearly not her first time doing this, and yet it still seems extremely meaningful to her that she got through to him in any capacity. Suddenly, it might make some modicum of sense why 'the author' is so big on spiritual healing; there is kindness under there that tempers her arrogance. And in situations like this, that arrogance slips away until it becomes almost invisible. All of that together might hint at something else: conversations like this give her a sort of peace, too. "Perhaps I should call some of my Seekers over some time when you or others are visiting. I feel you have a lot that you could teach them, in earnest. And perhaps, upon reflection, they could help you, too."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The next explanation is met with a sober sort of smile, but a smile nonetheless. At the detection of nostalgia, she smiles -- that's another of those things that she almost literally consumes on contact, and another one of the reasons why conversations like this are so nice for her. All that she ultimately says in reply, though, is that she is glad that 'blamed himself' is in the past tense now, and that he and Vruasa are on better terms.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Even if, you know, he still comes off as incredibly abrasive over public broadband. (That was kinda cute to her too though.)<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At the final bit, Mizuki bows her head a bit. "I would certainly love to help, but I ask all of this of you in equal measure for pure interests' sake. When I say I am a 'curator of creation', this is a large part of what I mean: one who compiles information on individuals just because it exists. 'History substantiated through record', as the gate says. Er... used to say." Her expression contorts in a way that might suggest it's best not to linger on the topic of goings-on in her world at the moment.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Soon, though, Mizuki leads the Godkid outside, where they are met with a long, empty street where stoplights cycle without purpose, and no sound can be heard for miles. Summoning her sword into her hand and pointing it at a star, she focuses in on Cygnus, drawing the lines of the constellation together so that her intentions are abundantly clear. Then she flashes Arthur a smile, as if to say 'thank you'.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:33|Arthur Lowell (33)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Man, this is a lot of meaning that's being completely lost on Arthur Lowell, who is just way to sorta set off-balance to be able to assess the meaningfulness of his contribution to Mizuki's addiction to therapy and personal history. All he knows is that he's vaguely comforted and at the same time vaguely discomforted, like pivoting his unease around a central focal point.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Feelings are hard.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Well, the next part gives him some verbal foothold to work with. "Well, hey, I can't turn you down asking that nicely, right? As a cool kid, I'm basically obligated to let people take good long looks at whatever they like about this sorta thing, you know." A quick grin. "Besides, what kinda guy would I be, pretending to be unhappy about interest and attention from someone cool as you, huh? I know I get all spazzy about some of this stuff sometimes, but hey, at the end of the day, got a kind, pretty girl giving me a bunch of attention and talking."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He makes a brief "duh" sort of gesture. "I mean, 'interest' is gonna be something that qualifies around top five harmless motives here." And a renewal to that smile.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He follows along, heading outside, watching the constellation with a bit of proper respect, giving Mizuki another more genuine, soft smile, just kike the one he's getting.<br> <br>


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