Scene #5224: TRUE PSYCHIC TALES: Tongue Twister

Owner	Pose
Ainsley	The meeting place is a little more comfortable. Ainsley has rented out a little building on the beach in the Summer region of the 'Verse. Chairs have been set up in a circle like some kind of self-help meeting, and a table has refreshments such as tea and snacks to enjoy before the mind dive begins. Ainsley is seated in a chair that's decidedly the 'main' chair under a skylight shining down on her, with her legs crossed and her hands holding a tea cup and its accompanying plate. There's a book on a separate table. It appears to be some kind of leather-bound journal. A little card is situated next to it. 'Former Psychohazard Source.' It seems to be free for the taking for those that want to follow up on it later. They'll be jumping right into her mind once everyone's ready.
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan, frankly, wasn't sure about all this 'psychic' business. He couldn't discount it based purely on the fact that he was in a much larger world now, but even so, to him it was so....strange. He was used to the shams popular in the outer layers of the London slums when one talked about psychic powers. Gypsies and the like. But, according to his associates in the League, it was a very real phenomenon. The hulking six-foot-four Englishman enters the room, dressed for what he considered, the occasion. Black slacks, finely polished lace-ups, paired with a white button-up shirt and its complimentary red tunic, embroidered with star patterns. If you squinted hard enough, you could see a little bowtie attached to the collar, too. "Pardon the intrusion. My name is Jonathan Joestar, I'm here to assist with the ...I believe the term is, 'psychohazard'?"
Xiaomu	The book is at least going to get a long and contemplative look from Xiaomu, the sage fox examining the cover before she gives Ainsley and (assuming he's here) Parsons a querying glance. "How sure are you about the 'former' part here?" she wonders. She's moved on to the snack table when Jonathan Joestar wanders in, and Xiaomu grins and nods to him, both by way of greeting. "Sounds like you're in the right place!" Then she settles into one of the chairs in the circle, alternately sipping tea and munching on fried tofu.
August Kohler	Despite what happened the last time he went into Ainsley's brain, what with fighting a giant monster version of himself, August is still here. He's dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans because of the region, a high-tech gun holstered next to a weird machete and a jewel case with a CD in it. The German glances at Jonathan, mostly looking up and then looking at himself because Jonathan makes him feel small, before introducing himself. "August Kohler." And then, he quietly takes a seat and waits for things to begin.
Flamel Parsons	Mr. Parsons has invited those interested in investigating the Tongue of Adam here, and when they approach, he'll fade into sight as his invisibility dispells, sitting at one of the chairs in an upbeat, positive posture. "Alright!" He declares, picking up the book with one hand. "We've confirmed this is neutralized. It's the Tongue of Adam! A study of linguistic origins attempting to trace them to the first language. I don't think he got what he was looking for, but what he found was the Tongue of Adam, a hostile language that hijacks the mind." He offers it for examination. "Harmless now! Promise, we're very sure about the former hazard part. We got in a fight with it. Near burned my face off! Just awful. Beat it, though!" A nod to Joestar. "Welcome, Mr. Joestar. You're right, it's a potential psychohazard. It also /was/ a cognitohazard, a dangerous thing to /think/ or to /know/ about, but it's not now. We've neutralized that." He lets the thing down, and hands off to Ainsley a... Small door. Yep, it's just a little inches-high door, styled after a spy agency's door. Ainsley remembers what to do with it, right? "We killed it and stopped it from taking over Ainsley's mind, but I think some of the information got assimilated! So we need to go back in and double-check the status, and stabilize Ainsley's psychic energies. Everyone take a seat, you'll be tranced a bit so walking around won't work much while we look in on the library again." "Oh, right, don't shout. Ainsley's brain is a library. So, library rules, please. Keep quiet." He grins pleasantly at that last bit. "Now, everyone prepare your minds." Once everyone's in place, once the door's in place on Ainsley's forehead, he removes his sunglasses, revealing shining, glowing white eyes. The door pops open dramatically, revealing its own shiny white light. https://a.lainfile.pw/KE/MIND_DIVE.mp3 Each person present will feel a tug on their mind. Parsons emerges from his own body as a shadowy, whispy white ghost-like presence, and if the others don't resist the tug on their mind, in a moment, they will too. Each astral projection will find itself drawn into the door, whooshing and surging into it, and letting the door snap shut behind them, and depositing them straight into the mindscape of Ainsley.
Ainsley	Ainsley nods to each person in turn as they arrive. Their presence is appreciated, and she makes sure to gesture to the refreshments she arranged for their sake. Jonathan Joestar's appearance is somewhat surprising for her, too, because herculean englishmen are just fun for her to stare at. She doesn't spend long doing so, not when she receives the psychic door. It goes right on her forehead. It looks awfully silly. -- The Library is as the repeat visitors remember: An incredibly tall, orderly repository of knowledge that has splashes of vivid color on any wall that doesn't have a bookshelf on it. There are many rows extending out from the lobby, branching out from the looks of things. Here and there are walkways where one can reach books that are several stories in the air. The whole place is well-lit but there aren't any apparent light sources to speak of. There is a version of Ainsley seated at a desk here in the lobby, scribbling down in a great big ledger. She appears to be dressed in a primitive, almost tribal attire. The name plate on her desk just says 'Librarian.' There's a sign near her desk that explains the two rules that one must abide to for their visit: Remain quiet in the Library. Books are only for those possessing a Library Card. Unlike before, the hall that originally contained the Tongue of Adam is locked up tight. There's a big angry padlock on the gate, preventing entry. Urashima Taro can be seen in there, though, calmly organizing the shelves and pulling a book cart behind himself that seems to never gain or lose any books. A faint squeaky sound can be heard as another cart rattles along the floor down one of the other halls. It's not immediately visible yet.
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan politely accepts a refreshment, some kind of juice beverage. Having long since become used to being stared at, though perhaps not in the way he'd been receiving recently, Jonathan brushed past it with a serious enough expression. Tongue of Adam? It sounded fascinating. Like the supposed Rosetta Stone. ..However, if it could possess people, he could understand the risk, especially if remnants had been left behind in someone's brain. Besides that, the opportunity to enter the brain of an apparent ..what was the word, parahuman? Was an opportunity he couldn't pass up, it was part of his specific field of study, after all. The Stone Mask's needles did something to the human brain, some kind of ancient acupuncture, there was a possibility that entering Ainsley's mind could glean some kind of information he could use in that regard. Soon enough, Jonathan found himself inside of a ..library, of sorts. The tugging sensation he'd felt on his ..spirit, he supposed, had ceased. Fascinated, the giant of a man brushed strands of raven black hair out of his face and tentatively examined the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves. "Goodness..." he muttered to himself.
Xiaomu	"Tongue of Adam, huh ..." Xiaomu gives the book another look. Yeah, she may want to grab that before she leaves. But first, it's time for a casual little stroll within the library-esque labyrinth that is Ainsley's mind. Xiaomu makes sure she's got a good grip on her staff as her astral body gets tugged through that cool little door on Ainsley's forehead, and the sage fox's astral body 'lands' as if she were just stepping off a commuter train. Her attention goes first to the sign with its two rules ... easy enough rules to follow, she thinks. She's curious about how you get a Library Card, but that would probably depend on Ainsley's personal and express permission - not really something she wants to burn time trying to follow up on; they're here on business, after all. Well, if you want information, you ask a librarian, right? Xiaomu walks over to the desk, clearing her throat quietly. "Excuse me ... would you happen to know anything about a volume called 'The Tongue of Adam'?" It's worth a try, right?
Flamel Parsons	"The human mind! Six hundred miles of synaptic fibre! Five and a half ounces of cranial fluid! Fifteen hundred grams of complex neural matter! A three pound pile of dreams! And sometimes, it looks like a library on the inside." Mr. Parsons says, looking as bright and positive as ever about this. "Over there is where we fought the thing off. Minds recover, though, see? Everything's working out. Really, it's tremendously resilient!" Here comes that squeaking library cart. Where the Tongue of Adam once infested a memory of August, it's not infested anything now. The cart is arranged half like a cage, half like a slap-dash seal on the hull of a boat, and all in a strange way, where books on it leave gaps allowing... A twisted, unnerving mass of jet-black, tongue-flesh limbs to emerge from it. Shaped as twisted arms and legs, the Tongue's corpse has seemingly been brought back to life and sealed down, and... According to the small badge on the cart, reading "LIBRARY CLERK", it's being forced to work now. Mr. Parsons seems to light up. "Oh, that's definitely some kind of assimilation. The mind /loves/ grabbing whatever it can learn from any situation, even the most traumatic and hostile kind."
Ainsley	The Librarian looks up from her ledger. She stares at Xiaomu, processing her request, then she points down one of the halls just as the library cart containing the Tongue of Adam arrives, but makes sure to tap the part of the sign emphasizing the need for a Library Card. Tap tap tap. The letters even glow so they're more obvious. Then she gets back to scribbling pure nonsense in that ledger. She doesn't seem worried about the horrifying contained psychohazard. She just waves to it and smiles, and returns to her work. Like it's some kind of messed up coworker and not a threat anymore.
August Kohler	As they enter Ainsley's mind, August feels that something's in his pocket now. A library card, to be exact. When Xiaomu asks about the Tongue of Adam from the Librarian, he lifts it up to show that he can take out books, and then whispers over to the others. "I'll need to be the one to check out the book, unless you want to try and get a library card." He moves through the shelves, glancing to see if Classical Earworms is still there, before moving down the path for the Tongue of Adam. There's a nod and wave to Urashima Taro as August spots him, before the boy turns to the others. "If you guys want to read any of these weird mindbooks, I guess I can check them out for you."
Xiaomu	"That's a 'Tongue'?" Xiaomu stares at the library cart. She shouldn't stare at the eldritch abomination turned mental construct. Staring at things like that is bad for your sanity and your long-term mental health and welfare. She's staring anyway. "... well .... it's not going anywhere, I guess ... ? Just trundling around, shelving books ..."
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan taps August on the shoulder when he looks like he has a second. "Pardon me, but, could you check a book out for me..? Any book will do." ..This place was massive. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Even less around the abomination that had apparently been 'put to work'. Miss Ainsley had asked them to question it, that perhaps it held some insight about what was wrong with her. Tentatively, he reaches out towards it. "Pardon me...? ...Could you answer some questions, please?"
Flamel Parsons	"It WAS a Tongue. Inside of August's mouth for a bit. Er, Ainsley's mental image of August, not actual August." Parsons is a little awkward about this. The Tongue notices the group, turning hands and feet and tentacles and weird distorted wings towards them like swiveling eyes. It recognizes August. The cage rattles, the Tongue tenses. Fists clench, hard enough that ragged fingernails bite into palms enough to draw a disgusting black sludgy blood. Looks like the Tongue is still a little tense about what happened. As it tenses, the library shakes briefly. The limbs of the Tongue of Adam surge through gaps in the shelving of the books all around, before the mind asserts its overwhelming control on it and shuts it down, forcing the Tongue back into place. It doesn't seem capable of doing any harm, or even taking a tense posture, without getting shut down. No risk. And yet... A word springs to Ainsley's mind, another of those ones that have been surging up, but she can probably avoid actually saying it this time. Joestar, who wasn't here before, gets those limbs swiveled in his direction. The voice that speaks is difficult to describe, carrying middle-african accents and the hints of a tribal dialect to the way it forms syllables, but now, instead of brandishing proto-lingual danger, it speaks in Ainsley's own language. The words are tense, almost resentful, but polite in wording. "How can I help you? Looking for something?"
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan himself was on edge. It was strange, if you thought about it -- he wasn't really here. The muscles that tensed in preperation for an attack weren't real. He was just a...projection. A thought form given shape. He was like a part of the imagination right now, 'he' didn't exist as anything more than an idea, in this place. Even so, he felt the sensation of his large and powerful shoulders coiling in anticipation. 'That dialect..' 'South American? -- No, Africkans?' Something along those lines. It was a very old accentation, for sure, not something he could pin down by ear. "The owner of this place, her abilities have been acting strangely, as of late. Would you know anything about that?"
August Kohler	As Jonathan asks August to check out a book, he grabs the first one he spots on the shelf. 'How to Cook Termites'. He heads over to the librarian, and goes to check the book out, before returning to the others. "I'm not sure if you're actually allowed to /read it/ without a card, but we can find out. Worst case, death lasers point at you and kick you out of the mind painfully?" August holds out the book, and then turns over to the Tongue. There's a frown on his face. He's staring at the eldritch abomination. "Hey, you. Tongue of Adam. Why is Ainsley having weird mind issues?"
Ainsley	The book was checked out, and once that happens, the mindscape doesn't seem to care what's done with it. Jonathan can hold the book and even open it to read it if he really wants. Nothing's stopping him. The Librarian doesn't even appear slightly interested beyond recording that the book has been checked out. It's curious, there's another soft rumbling when the book is checked out.
Xiaomu	Xiaomu still looks HIGHLY alarmed at the moment - to a degree that most of her colleagues in the old Union, or the Paladins more recently, might not have imagined she COULD look frightened. And it was 'attached' to Ainsley's mental projection of August Kohler? She's having some major, MAJOR second thoughts about borrowing that book now, even if it's only a 'former' psychohazard. Frightened as she may be, though, Xiaomu is professional enough not to bolt in terror. The Tongue of Adam is going to have a hard time hurting her, in any case ... or at least, that's what Xiaomu hopes. If it comes to that. It's when August checks that book out that Xiaomu's ears perk up - a thankful distraction from the Tongue. "Huh ... so, it's not just checking out books, but the architecture shifts around some depending on who's using what memories? ... Sorta makes sense, from the layman's-level of neuroscience I've picked up."
Flamel Parsons	"What I would have given. What she would have known." The Tongue rattles, and a set of three fists surge against the floor resentfully at Joestar's question. "My words were the first. The first of all words spoken. She would have known. Now she uses it to make something else. The basement archives are having me write a new catalogue. The Index of Life. They don't care about what I am. My purpose. Write the Index and nothing else." "Uh, basement archives... Subconscious, maybe?" Parsons tries to offer a translation, but he can't do much. August is just flat-out despised by the Tongue for his part in usurping its rampage in Ainsley's mind. "You." It says, in its old language. Then the limbs strain, as if something, somewhere in its body, was experiencing pain. "You." It says, now, in Ainsley's native tongue. "Welcome back, Mr. Kohler. I hadn't expected you to return. The library is having issues because I have been assigned to do work that I am unsuited for." The Librarian, of course, knows otherwise. The Tongue of Adam could do this perfectly. Even the others could tell, it could finish that project quite straightforwardly, but very much does not want to.
Ainsley	The Librarian scoffs. That's the first sound it's ever made, and it's somehow a lot more harsh coming from a being that doesn't make any other noises.
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan frowns as he deciphers its meaning. "I see." Flamel takes the lead on the important bits. That was the only question Jonathan really wanted to ask it, so he places his hand over his heart and initiates a polite half-bow. "Thank you for your assistance, erm...Mister Adam?" It looked monstrous, but it didn't act particularly so. He'd heard that it was evil on some level, but he had issues believing that. He'd seen true evil, the kind only an immortal monster could possess. Perhaps it was Ainsley's mind suppressing it, but he didn't get that feeling from the Tongue. Jonathan finds a corner to flip through the book he was given. He might as well, as stomach turning it was, it also made him curious. ...flip...flip.....flip... ...flip...flip.... flip........flip..................flip....... "Fascinating."
Flamel Parsons	"No." It says, to the name. Not 'Adam'? "I was never named. I was born before names. When they died, I had nothing to mourn them by. When I died, they had nothing to remember me by. Leave me without a name." How cryptic. Seems like it had been bottling up that resentment for a while. The bitter thing twists and seems to focus on something elsewhere. It draws books from its own cart, pulling them into that strange void within, and then they emerge, grasped on tarry, warped hands emerging elsewhere in the library, shelving it in place. Seems to be the way it functions. It's incredibly unnerving.
August Kohler	"Hey, Tongue." August stares back at it, sharing in mutual hatred. Yes, it said not to give it a name, but who cares? "Take us to the Index of Life." August speaks clearly, flatly, and then moves to take How to Cook Termites when Jonathan is done with it so he can read it too.
Xiaomu	'Incredibly unnerving' is a terribly apt summary of EVERYTHING AT ALL about the Tongue of Adam. Xiaomu is still managing not to run away screaming. Somehow. "Are you sure going to the Library's basement is a good idea, Parsons?" the sage fox wonders, exercising the part of her brain that isn't trying to remember every half-relevant sutra she ever studied during her stint in a Buddhist convent.
Flamel Parsons	Parsons shrugs a bit. "We're in uncharted territory for Psychonauts." He says, a bit sheepishly. "Nonhuman minds with nonhuman memetic cognitohazards doing... This? Completely beyond me, sorry." "No. I can't allow access to the Basement Archives for my host." Xiaomu gets a different answer from the Tongue. Apparently even the Tongue doesn't want to risk something that significant. Whatever the Basement Archives are, they're critical mental spaces. "I'll show you." The center of the main library chamber splits wide, receding mechanically, blooming like a massive flower. The mechanical shifting is origami-like, folding the floor like paper to bring up an elevating section of the basement. It's... A spire of a card catalogue system, crafted of fine wood and polished brass, an incredible catalogue and archive. The shelving and the drawers twist and wrap around each other, the whole thing curves in mind-bending ways, and the structure itself is constantly in motion, with drawers that open and close, and which have other drawers built into them, all mounted on mechanically rotating segments. And within it, as the Index unfolds, are glimpses of a central book. The Index of Life begins to unfold, shutting its drawers and straightening its segments, revealing the tome within. "This was not what I was meant to do. Salvation of the tribe needed war. Only war. Not this. Not more mouthes to feed. More faces to mourn. War was the answer. Not this."
Ainsley	It is a book. It is also not a book. The book has a plain white cover, and a silver clasp holding it shut. It's bigger than a person is tall, and sits on a pedestal made of brass. The book exudes a sensation of pure power. A sensation that Jonathan Joestar might find oddly familiar, as if it was kin to Hamon in some way, though it clearly isn't Hamon. It feels like warmth, light, new beginnings and hope. It might hurt to look at. It occupies the mental space in such a way that it's clear just by looking at it that they wouldn't be able to read its contents. It's a miracle that any mind could, in fact, and yet here it is. But it's obvious what it does. It's the secret to create Life. Not just create offspring, but the ability to imbue the essence of what makes a being Alive. The Librarian looks up at it, fixated on the Index of Life, eyes wide and unblinking.
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan had turned over the book back to August. Some time later, Jonathan wound up staring at a book. A very peculiar book, but something about it felt intimately familiar to him. In a way, it evoked the feeling of Baron Zeppeli's deep pass, an uncomfortable memory that had him rubbing his neck slightly in recollection. Of course, he could remember the feeling of his broken neck being healed by resplendant life energy. But most importantly, he could remember the feeling of having his life returned to him. Jonathan was on death's door at the time. Staring at this book, it made him sad. "This is the 'Index of Life'?"
August Kohler	Well, that was a bizarre book that wasn't really a book. 6/10, August thought, as he put it away and headed with the others to the Index of Life. When they saw it, he couldn't help but stare, even if it sort of hurt. August moved up, seeing if it was safe to touch, as he glanced at the Tongue. "Can't have war without life. Can't have language without life. Can't have...anything, without life, Tongue." August almost wants to read the book, despite it possibly being dangerous as hell. It looks /fascinating/.
Ainsley	Trying to touch the book has an interesting effect. August's hand passes through it. He /can't/ touch it. It's impossible. It isn't that her mind is preventing it, it's that he lacks the mental tools to even do more the perceive the surface of it. He'd definitely feel his hand pass through the book, his mind unable to grasp the book or what it contains. He does get the feeling that it's almost complete, but it's been delayed. It seems the Tongue of Adam is taking its sweet time. But maybe August's argument will turn it around...?
Flamel Parsons	The Tongue grips the frame of its shelving cart, as if in rage. "No. Misordered. You cannot have life without war." It's bottled this up for a while, it seems. "That was why. The tribe could only survive if a reason could be found to kill and take what was needed to not starve. Language. I was the word that would make them willing to hate those who had not wronged them. You cannot have life without war. Survival is not possible. I can't..." It seems to tremble with strain. "They couldn't survive. Without raids. They wouldn't hate without reason. I was made to break that. Now this? Life from peace?" The book flickers as its limbs approach it and another unsteady, foggy word surges up, but the hands clench, and strain. "No. No life without war. /Not/ inverse. /Never/ inverse. Only death, otherwise." And there's the nature of the problem. One compelling argument to appeal to its nature as a tool for the Tribe's Survival through War. The Librarian, silent as it is, was likely unable to give it any. One odd thing slips through. "The one they were taking me to. He understood. He understood what I am made for."
Jonathan Joestar	Jonathan turns his head to look at the creature. "I see. That's why you were called 'somewhat evil' ... you taught humans, some of them, to hate. ...I don't know what to think about that. But, at least in my world, nothing like you exists. Some people.." tJonathan's eyes cloud up, as if remembering something terrible "....Some people are born evil." he quotes. "But even so, people strive to be the best they can be. As Zeppeli once said; 'Own your fear'. Humans overcome adversity by nature...surely, even something like that is only an obstacle to be overcome." Jonathan's hand had spread infront of his face while he spoke, striking a dynamic pose.
August Kohler	As Jonathan debates the Tongue, August is thinking it over. And then, he comes to a simple question for the Tongue of Adam. "Which existed first? Life or war? Life or language? Which cannot exist without the other? You need life to have war, otherwise no one can fight. You need life to have language, otherwise no one can speak. War has never necessitated life, in fact, it takes it. War brings death, while peace brings life, because, well frankly, more people get knocked up during peacetime." August just stares as he speaks crassly, glancing straight at the Tongue of Adam. "If you want war, you need people to fight it in. And that requires life to make those people. Unless you think that corpses can commit war, can survive?"
Flamel Parsons	"...An obstacle to overcome?" It's an unsteady argument, but the Tongue of Adam seems to accept it, however indirectly. "What, then. War against what I was supposed to be? I am no human. I'm a language and nothing else. I fulfill my purpose. To make my tribe survive." For all the confidence it had before, it buckles a little under the stress of debate. "...And what, beg whatever is the result of this to host me? Hope in some way that a lack of hatred and war will keep them /safer/? Would they..." It clutches at its own fists for a moment, twisting in strange ways. "...Fine. If that is the only gamble I have left for any measure of fulfilling my purpose. Fine. An obstacle to overcome, then? I will overcome whatever challenge of linguistic phylogenesis you claim lies before me." The arms stretch, bearing a vast array of pens, pencils, quills, and other tools of writing. "If my purpose must be fulfilled in life rather than war then I will achieve it or the most ancient of all languages will die and its final words will be a curse upon each of you." It writes and writes and writes, suddenly, surging through the card catalogue and the book. "My maker was the one who knew. She would count the rises and the falls of the sun and moon. She knew which plants would ease pain. Which animals were safe to eat. She knew the face of every member of the tribe. And when she saw it grow to a size too large to survive, she knew the only way to keep its size, to keep its life, was to take from those they had no reason to hate." "She knew life could be found in war and war only. With peace, with 'more life', they would have starved to death. She spoke and they listened. And they survived. Long enough to abandon me. And you. You come to tell me that my purpose ought to be life. Not war. Not what saved them, what I was created for." Pencils snap, pens shatter, quills bend. "Life, then. Life, unending. Life that bears my words. Life, from anything. From everything. Thinking. Feeling. Breathing. Life, eternal. And when it falls again to decay and starvation. When the Librarian is dead and the Library is burned. Then, no more. Then, /war/." "And until then, life." It's... Getting into its work now. Things are beginning to glow and shine and hum and do all sorts of signs of major change. "Actually, wow." Mr. Parsons says, worrying. "I think-- Maybe we should get out of here. It's heating up a little bit." There's that psionic tug again, urging the group to eject. If they don't resist, it'll pull the whole gang out of Ainsley's head before the magnum opus of her subconcious -- now pulled into the realm of her conscious mind -- is completed. They'll slam back into their bodies -- yes, definitely their original ones -- soon after, and the psycho-portal will slam shut just as they do.
Ainsley	The Librarian smiles as they leave. It watches the feverish pace that the creature has. For a moment, this mental concept seems content that people have shown that there are those that struggle against the pragmatic idea of fulfillment and protection through destruction. She's happy that they have driven it to such a frenzy, drawn out a desperation. Such desperation is vital to grow and to learn. The Librarian wants nothing more than that. --- When they arrive back in their own bodies, consciously, and they see the room, a lot of time seems to have passed. It's almost evening already, almost dark. But the red glow outside shines on the person whose mind they were just inside of. And she has doubled forward in her seat. Her eyes are glowing a bright, bright blue in the gloom of their meeting place. The teacup she was holding is broken at her feet. And then she straightens, and the glow fades. She stares forward, and... smiles to herself, her eyes lidding shut. She'll stay like that until spoken to. She feels so serene, because she's got a mental peace now that she didn't know she needed.
Jonathan Joestar	August's vulgarities aside, Jonathan can't help but smile a little. ..Even if momentarily, it seemed...happier. No, perhaps a better word would be content. As absorbed as he found himself in the Tongue's story, however, he knew better than to stay overlong. Jonathan bows politely as he feels the psychic tug, and moments later, he's..back. Back in his own, real body. He gave a few experimental breaths to check, just to be safe. He was in fact, his self once more. "...Oh, dear." Even though Ainsley looked serene, that broken cup would need to be cleaned up. ...Well, it couldn't hurt to let her be at peace. Jonathan's eyes turn to the window, realizing that the sun was about to set. Night time always evoked a dread in him, perhaps it'd be best to go home, soon.
August Kohler	August just stares at the Tongue of Adam as it begins writing. "Man, I can't tell if you talk too much, or too little for being literal language." August says to the Tongue of Adam, before heading out peacefully when Flamel pulls the plug. When he reawakens in his body, he glances at Ainsley, and is about to move when he notices she's fine. "Well, Ainsley, I'm heading home, since you look like you feel better. Bye." There's a hint of terseness in August's voice, but he does sound genuinely relieved that she's fine. Therefore, he probably doesn't hate you, Ainsley.
Ainsley	"Hey, August?" "Thanks," Ainsley says, her voice soft enough to be as serene as she looks. "Really." She doesn't move from her spot and she lets him leave. She doesn't even open her eyes.