Scene #7745: Come On In

Owner	Pose
Candy	The Free Morelos Territories, a.k.a. 'The South' Town of Amacuzac October 1921 BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3Q8h-fDfEI Officially, likely out of exasperation, this brand-new country is referred to as the 'Free Morelos Territories,' hearkening back to the former Mexican state where the southern uprising began. Here, however, they call it 'the South.' It encompasses everything south of Baltasar Ibanez's Mexico, and places it in contrast to the post-revolution state of Regalo de la Tierra--itself referred to here as 'the North.' There are no states here, but there are cities, both native and otherwise. Candy's house is in a small town called Amacuzac, named for the river that runs through it. It's high up, like everything in this part of the South, about thirty miles from the nearest warpgate--and even stepping through that gate, located in the city of Cuernavaca, might have your ears popping. Lush mountain ranges are bedecked with droves of a tree called oyamel, a kind of fir that manages at once to be tall and stubby thanks to the slightly rounded shape of its boughs. Hardy grasses cling firmly to the ground, the air thin and cool without being overly cold. Deer, long-tailed relatives of the North American raccoon, and birds of flight are a common sight peeking through the treelines. Nestled between the comforting shade of two mountains, Amacuzac is not a large town. Much of the space between its dirt roads, its humble buildings, is taken up by the greens, yellow-greens and browns of alpine flora. The river Amacuzac neatly cuts the town in half, east and west, though buildings and fixtures are erected a ways from its banks. Evidently, the river swells quite wide in the rainy season.
Candy	This high up, however the Amacuzac is a peaceful river, and if there were a word for this small farming town it might be 'tranquil,' for the interplay between its natural beauty and small size. The evening sky is a beautiful shade of red-orange, the sun kissing the horizon and promising soon to reveal the twinkling spread of stars above. Here, where the mountain air is thin, it feels as though this is among the closest that earth-bound eyes will ever get to the stars. Candy's home is on the western bank of the river, but you have to follow its path for quite a while until you find it. There is a stagecoach in town that'll take you, and the locals know and like Candy enough to offer you rides in their carts, or their trucks. They even guess at who you are--he must have put in a good word. Or boasted. When he said that he lived in the sticks, Candy meant it. The path there is strewn with several species of towering mountain trees. Some of them bear fruit, either long gourd-looking things that seem to sprout right from the bark on spindly stems, or squat pear-shaped ones that weigh down their branches. Candy's house sits on a plot of land flanked from behind by a thick half-circle of these trees, with wild, prickly nopal cacti here and there to fill in the gaps. What might be somewhere else a 'front yeard' is here a plot of arable land, with humble rows of corn, tomatoes, and some sort of non-wheat grain. A dusty, archaic (we're talking solid metal cab and wooden bed) pickup is parked off to the side. The clucking of chickens is heard before the birds are seen. Candy lets them have the run of the place, though there is a coop on the west side of the house where they can take shelter in storms. The house itself is a small, one-story adobe with few windows, but the shutters are open this evening. The smell of cooked food--something spicy and savory--drifts from within, as do faint sounds from what must be a record player. Candy can be seen, before he sees you. He's leaning out one of his windows, mortar and pestle in hand, nervously looking for his guests, until-- Until he spots you, and his face is practically aglow. Positively beaming, he flags the both of you down. "Hey, you two! You're just in time for dinner." His pink apron disappears along with him as he hurries back into the kitchen.
Staren	This isn't a fancy battle or anything. Staren tries to keep the clothes relatively simple: Black turtleneck, red skirt with a thin white stripe just above the bottom edge, brown hiking boots, and the fake glasses with round frames. When she sees that travel is going to be involved, she warps in a cloak and witch hat that match the skirt. Staren can't help but take a look around in... not exactly wonder, but... she can't help but be conscious that if she ever sees this landscape on her home world, she'll be in dire danger indeed. Southern Mexico? Staren's never been further south than Juarez. There are VAMPIRES down here. And according to the stories, they're vampire SETTLEMENTS, inhabited by intelligent... sapient? selflike? vampires who raise mortals like cattle for blood. If Staren is ever here, there, it will not be a peaceful time. When she meets up with Persephone, she's drawn to the psychic's comforting presence as always. On the carriage she sets her hat aside, and watches the countryside out the window while discussing what they're here to do with Persephone. When they arrive, Staren puts the hat back on as she disembarks, and sees... "He lives on a farm? No, he runs a farm? At the same time as everything else? How does he... ah, right, guess we'll see." She sniffs at the smell of dinner, subconsciously getting hungrier. Her ears perk up as Candy speaks up, and she smiles and waves. "Hey! Nice to meet you--" She blinks. that's not right. "I mean, nice to see you! You didn't have to make dinner for us, but... it smells delicious! Um..." She glances at Persephone, thinks a thought, and then decides to just look back at Candy and say it out loud: "What do you say when you're invited over to read someone's mind? I have no idea what the, uh, protocol is." She chuckles and grins awkwardly.
Persephone Kore	Phony is never in any kind of hurry. It's one of those things I never learned! Like trying hard, or being clever, or staying on guard. It's just never been important enough to practice. It'd be faster just to fly over to Candy's house, but when she spots the coach, she reaches an immediate resolution. It'd be such a waste not to enjoy the scenery, wouldn't it? "The glasses and turtleneck are still a really good fit on you," she says offhandedly as they climb aboard. "Very huggable, you know." She reclines languorously on the stagecoach's bench (with plenty of room in her lap for Staren!), straining herself only to reach out the window and grab one of those pear-shaped fruits that dangles from a bough overhead. For a while she stares out at the near-sunset sky, her eyes half-closed in a dreamy and faraway manner. When she finally takes a bite of the not-quite-pear, her eyelids drift shut entirely, the better to focus on the taste. She doesn't open her eyes again until they pull up at their destination, and she finally dismounts to circle around to the front and give the driver a fond and sincere 'thank you'. If he allows it, she'll even lay a hand on his forehead for a moment- "a blessing for health", she'll say, and in a way it really is! It's a little gift, but enough to keep from getting hurt or getting sick. Persephone is, in summary, in an unusually good mood even for her when she arrives on Candy's doorstep. Her hand cups her cheek as he darts inside, and a playful little tug exerts itself on the hem of his pink apron. "Ahaha, really? I was worried we'd be late. You weren't counting on us being awful like that, were you, Candy?" The half-eaten pear quietly becomes a little gemstone in her hand and drops to the ground as she steps inside the adobe, taking a deep breath in through her nose to savor the smell of home cooking and letting it out in a peaceful sigh. "I don't think I've ever been on a farm before, you know. It's a real treat!" To Staren, as a quiet-but-still-audible warm aside: "'Thanks for trusting us' feels right! But it's only my second time at an opening-up party, either."
Candy	"Maybe I didn't have to," says Candy, opening the front door for Staren and Phony, "But I sure wanted to." The interior of the farmhouse is vivid and colorful. The walls are often vibrant turqoise, yellow, or orange, with glazed terracotta tile and hand-woven textiles spread out on the ground to keep the place warm during the colder months. The kitchen in particular is orange with a teal trim at the ceiling, in a zig-zag pattern. A cuckoo clock hangs on the wall, while a four person dining table made of oak, scratched in that way that only a family table can be, takes center stage. Four creaky, comfy cushioned chairs surround it. On his way in, Candy unties his little pink apron. "There's ice cream in the icebox," he says, pointing to a white fridge so bulky that it looks as though it could withstand an artillery shell. The room is lit by the warmth of a gas chandelier. "But we can save that for dessert, ah?" The apron is hung on a hook affixed to the side of the fridge, and he answers Staren's question, looking over his shoulder. "No idea what you're supposed to say, really," he grins. "But some flattery wouldn't hurt! Cute glasses.~" The main course appears to be some kind of creamy chile with squash, corn, tomatoes and, naturally, chillis. It smells also of garlic, cilantro and a medley of other spices. "I was nervous you guys wouldn't be on time, but I wasn't -counting- on it. When people you like are coming over, you want everything to be perfect for them!" A bit of chile splashes him when he sets it down, and he giggles, wiping it off his work shirt. "Or at least, imperfect in a cute way, ah?" He also made a bit of finger food--cactus slices (no needles, don't worry) that smell of chicken and garlic, with eggs, onion and chillis spread atop each. As he sets the plates and cutlery out, both Staren and Persephone become aware, at last, of the presence of another mind. He has opened his mind to them. It burns brightly, like a flame ever-fed, but in this place, it isn't an intense heat. It is warm and welcoming.
Staren	Persephone's compliments get a warm blush. Well, I do like hugs... Lap-sitting seems to be becoming a given with Persephone around. This is so comfy... She really wants to just close her eyes and rest... but the rare vistas? ...Ehh, can't appreciate them if she's forcing herself, after all. She closes her eyes too, and may even drift off until the carriage arrives. Maybe I didn't have to, but I sure wanted to. Does he just like cooking? Does he like knowing others are enjoying food he cooked? Is it something about the way he was raised to treat guests, that he'd feel uncomfortable if he didn't do it? Staren can't help trying to make sense of it. As a child she'd have asked this out loud, and the adults would have looked at her like she was crazy and then not actually answered the question, acting like she was expected to know it... Staren's mood briefly dips at that sort of memory. Well, not all adults. Dad would have explained if she could, but she never knew the answers, either... You're not here about your past, Staren! You're here to learn about Candy. Those problems are... not gone, now, but the whole point of this meeting is she's gained something to reduce them. She takes in the room. Nice colors, no matter others complaining that green/teal/turqoise and orange don't mix. It works sometimes? Not sure why, but it does. I don't remember when the last time I saw a cuckoo clock was. I wonder if on some worlds actual cuckoos live in them? A table big enough for four. A family. But there's no family here... what happened to them? Icebox? Gas lamp? They don't have electricity OR magic utilities? Poor guy. Maybe I can hook him up with a power source? Or would that be pushy... The memory of a group of college students refusing a PERFECTLY SAFE nuclear reactor for their secret cabin base, from which they fought supernatural creatures, draws close to the surface of Staren's mind. While thinking all that, though, she's looked around and moved to take a seat. "It's... cozy. Lived-in? Friendly? I'm not sure what the right word is... kind of a welcoming aura? I feel like I can feel a friendly atmosphere here... maybe I'm imagining it because of Persephone, or maybe I'm just seeing things differently now..." Flattery wouldn't hurt? Staren starts trying to think of something nice to say and is sideswiped by 'cute glasses', blushing. "Ah, I..." she reaches up to touch the sides of the frames with her fingertips. "Persephone suggested them. Wait, you were there for that! Oh, but she might've just said it in my mind..." It feels nice to be complimented. Was I just... never complimented, before the mountain, or did I assume looks were so superficial I ignored compliments as meaningless? "Oh, I, um, you like us? But what did we ever do for you...?" We've never been close. He's not in the Concord, I don't think we've helped him with any problems, why does he care? Not that I mind, I just don't understand... Oh, maybe it's Persephone, I feel so nice around her too... She blushes slightly again, knowing Persephone could read that. Oh, right! I suppose what we've done for him is also something we'll understand today! So not used to having that... "Oh, oops! You put the apron away too soon..." she smiles, "I don't mind though, we don't have to look perfect for an informal meeting..." Though I understand if you WANT to look perfect. Oh. No reason not to say that. "Though I understand if you /want/ to look perfect." Well, here's food! "Do we say something before we eat, here?" Oh, oops, I didn't compliment him back! She looks over Candy as he moves about setting the table places. He really does look like a girl. Hmm. I wonder... oh right. Guess we'll know how he feels about that, too. "You're being so kind and friendly to us." Staren smiles. "I don't fully get it, I don't think we've helped you with anything, and you've no expectation of help from the Concord, but... thank you. If you're just nice for the sake of being nice..." like Persephone, "Well, thank you for that too. The world needs more people like that in it." Oh, whoops, she forgot: "Thanks for trusting us!" she smiles earnestly but awkwardly at just sort of disjointedly adding that at the end, since she got distracted after Persephone suggested it.
Persephone Kore	It's beautiful. The love and care... it's like home, like the station, but compressed into an even smaller space. I can feel that fondness radiating off of everything- I don't even need to be special to tell that, ahaha. Persephone is seemingly enraptured by the atmosphere of the place. Her hands gather up and fidget with the ends of her scarf; her mouth hangs slightly open as her eyes trace the zigzagging borders of the colors, then linger marvellingly on the cuckoo clock and other curios. Finally, the squeak of Staren sitting down reminds her to do the same with an embarrassed little laugh. "You're already perfect for us, you know," she says, already smooth after only just remembering herself. "You didn't need to worry about that at all!" While Candy busies himself with final preparations, Persephone leans over to address Staren's inner thoughts, resting her cheek in her hand and smiling that warm half-lidded smile. "Cooking is fun because most people like good food. Isn't it nice to feel like you made people happy by doing something well?" Then, winking, she lowers her voice, but not quite low enough that Candy can't hear her: "He definitely likes looking like a girl. Boys don't get to look that way on accident, you know!" Did he really do this all alone? All those scratches on the table... he can't have guests over that often. It must be an heirloom, right? In a gentle, cursory way, she peers into the well-worn table's past: "Why are you the way that you are?" But she doesn't get to concentrate on that for very long before something else catches her eye. Oh! Ahaha, there you are, she says in that soundless voice. ... You're beautiful, you know. Prettier than I'd imagined. Though I really feel silly for not expecting that!! How do you feel? Intuitively, she's already trying to feel everything he'll allow her to: his thoughts and intentions, his feelings at the moment, the grooves that frequent and persisting emotions have worn into his heart. I'm interested!! I won't insult you by pretending I'm not!
Candy	Candy's smile is warm and welcoming as he helps himself to a serving of chile and one of those cactus wedges. "You? Nothing, yet. But Phony likes you. Trusts you. And I trust her a lot. Besides..." He lifts a spoonful of chile up, blows on it, and digs in. He looks quite satisfied with it, and trying it yourself reveals a lovely, sweet taste with just the right bit of smoky heat and savory undertones mixed in to keep things interesting. Ths squash, chillis and corn keep the texture from being too mushy, too. "Mm. I start out wanting to like most people, anyway." He wrinkles his nose at Staren, sweetly smiling in the kind of way that suggests, yeah, he knows exactly what he looks like and loves playing it up. "Take a look, if you wanna!" What did Phony -do- for Candy? An old voice--as old as the hills. Not Candy's. It is the voice of a survivor, yet not one so used to surviving as to be devoid of warmth. It isn't hard to imagine this old voice with a sprinkle of mirth. Long, long before your people stood on two legs, there roamed another great people, living on the same world. For a time, things were good. But the scholars and thinkers of this people thought up a thought which began to swallow them. A shrill voice, now, but quiet, belonging to a thing which lives its life in the dark, yet cloaked in the warmth of others. Danger! Evil! Old evil. Buried the evil--but evil is long-yeared. Digs up, little by little! Until people hear it. Candy. Persephone. Fear! Terror! Phony wants it for family--but she did not hear the words of the Last One Left. Did not know the danger! Could she? Would she? Or would she ignore! Candy frightened she would. She listened. She wanted that Eater-Thought real, real bad. Came across worlds, waded into all that shit for it. Not for a dumbass reason, neither. That definitely is Candy. He's smiling peacefully as he munches on that cactus wedge. She wanted it for someone she loved--but even though she wanted to make Dr. Carpathia happy, she listened. She let us tell her how dangerous it'd be, and she gave it up. I stayed with her, that night, watched the whole thing go up. It isn't that she 'did' anything for Candy. She proved that she's capable of putting others before herself, and that appears to be one of Candy's biggest grievances with so many worlds--that they, by their nature, make it difficult for people to do this.
Candy	Phony's inquiry into the table shows its history. Candy, his mother, and his father. His father, a long-haired man of Tlahuica descent, who the census-takers had named Estevez only because they couldn't pronounce the name of his father. His mother, the descendant of settlers who, for years, had been more or less serfs to a wealthy landowner until she one day left to find her own way. Many dinners, with just the three of them--but hospitality has ever been this family's credo. Guests were here, frequently present in the short time that Candy's young memory of those days permits. That one, in particular--that soft-spoken man from Chiapas--had gotten the previously shy young boy to open up, through the medium of playing cards. That was where he learned. Candy is blushing cute bronze patches on his cheeks, hiding for a moment behind his dark hair. He's feeling vulnerable--but in an affirming, decidedly good way. Being seen like this, by her, and even by Staren, it's beginning to take the exact shape he hoped it would. Warm, cozy, safe. He's an open book for her--making his interest in her and Staren plainly evident even as he bashfully hides his face for a moment. He loves feeling this way--opening himself up to other people. It's just that when he's 'working,' he can't afford to. He trusts Phony wholly, enough so that Staren can read and see these feelings too despite them not having known each other for as long. People make life worth living, for him--he still remembers many of the guests his parents had over, still remembers how he gradually came to be more social because of them. The last guests his parents ever had were Baltasar Ibanez's Federal Army, coming to make demands and take their land. For a long time, he hated those soldiers. But he came to understand that they were just people too--and he learned then to hate what they had done, and to try, with all his might, to dismantle systems that make young men and women believe such service is necessary. That's why he's so flippant with people in those positions--why he mocks them, why he plans around them, why he tries to erode utterly whatever authority their stations imply. For as long as those people remain in their power structures, they can't be trusted to put others before themselves, much less put others before their power structures. Frequent emotions--loving warmth and righteous anger, coy teasing and earnest yearning. He loves people at their best and wants to pull them from their worst. He has hurt those people before--the people with the badges, the uniforms, the silken sashes, the people who sit at polished tables. Often times, he finds it is the only language they understand--and the grooves which lead to this realization are fraught with frustration. Glad you think I'm pretty this way, too.
Staren	Staren nods at the 'nice to feel like you made people happy' think. I'm not a good cook, but I like solving people's problems with the stuff I am good at! I wish I could do it successfully more... She nods more subtly at the following comment, blushing slightly. He might have heard you! She looks to Candy as he answers and nods. "Obviously she can tell if anyone has ill intent... Thank you for trusting me, all the same." She will look, but at Candy's mind, trying to focus on that new sense. Trying to pick up on surface thoughts about trust, but ending up sucked into the visions-- Staren bows her head. She's reminded of her own decision not to try to take Tracy's power-editing program for study. If she did it too, I must have made the right choice. Her tailtip twitches under the cloak, which she now remembers to take off and hang on the chair. She leans closer to Persephone. Staren picks up on the vulnerability and offers a friendly smile. Mood. That's... how I couldn't let myself feel, before, and now... She looks down at the table. Can't when he's working? Oh right. "I thought I couldn't let myself feel that way, either. I thought any vulnerability would get me torn apart. I thought it'd make me useless to the Concord, and tossed out. And before then, I thought... well, I never knew when the Union would turn on me, but I always feared they would, so I couldn't afford to be vulnerable." She hugs herself. "I didn't realize how much it was hurting me... but I thought... that was just how life had to be, you know?" Elite life anyway. Otherwise you go live a quiet life somewhere... She looks up at Candy. "I don't know if I could turn it on and off so well, for work or anything... I mean, I can be kinda less open and exposed, but it's hard to switch back and forth completely, without forming habits either way... for me..." People make life worth living? "People make life worth living? I suppose they do! Life would be so lonely, otherwise." She smiles at Persephone, "It's definitely a lot better with Persephone in it!" Then looks back to Candy. "And you seem like a pretty nice person, too. You approach things kinda weird to me, but... it kinda feels like you're just, able to successfuly do what I always tried and failed to do." She tilts her head to one side. "I'm not jealous, I'm happy living this way, I'm just glad it works for you." Her expression falls as thoughts turn to the military visitors. She reads those thoughts, and nods. "People are frustrating. I wish I knew more about how to dismantle such power structures... Other people say they're experts, but I don't really understand it... they say you have to hurt the structure and the people in it a certain way, or something, and... I'm not an expert, but to me it sounds like people still get hurt... but maybe they're right? I don't know..." she shrugs, a bit sadly.
Persephone Kore	Persephone lifts a spoonful of chili to her lips, allows her eyes to shut, and tastes it with a sommelier's discernment. An approving smile quickly spreads across her face, and she stuffs the rest of it into her mouth even though it really ought to be too hot. "You really do know how to make a girl happy," she says slyly, reaching across the table to take Candy's hand and squeeze it firmly in her own. Somehow it feels like just a single step below outright pinching those blushing cheeks of yours! (A subtle telekinetic pressure does that anyway, a moment later. I couldn't help myself after all!) Her expression becomes a little more serious, but no less fond, when that mission is mentioned. "I did wonder," she says, "what that looked like from your side. I must have seemed sort of awful, huh? And I guess I really was!" "I still am childish, you know. 'Accepting that I can't get what I want' is another one of those things I just never learned how to do! I still don't understand completely, but when I saw how badly you wanted the Eater-Thought destroyed..." Staren leans in against her. Persephone reciprocates and takes a second spoonful of chili, resting her head against the catgirl's despite the noticeable height difference. "... I want to make everyone's wishes come true, you know. So, childishly, I couldn't stand in the way of yours." She laughs fondly, just a little, at Staren's mental admission of vulnerability, and plants a simple breezy kiss on the top of her head like it's nothing. "Maybe it wasn't safe to be vulnerable back then, Staren. I don't know! But it's safe now, and it makes me so, so happy that you're willing to be that way around me." Her spoon clatters down into the now-emptier bowl. While Staren and Candy talk to each other for a moment, Persephone stares at the atlas of gentle scratches and grooves on the dinnertable's surface. The gist of what she's reading from it is obvious to Candy, but it's impossible to say what she sees when she traces her finger across one line in particular, or her eyes single out constellations only meaningful to her. Of course I think you're pretty, Candy, she 'says' again when she looks back up. You love people so much! Maybe even more than I do. It's impossible for a heart like that not to be pretty, I think. Now, tell me: what are the eddies of your heart's gravity like? If your intentions sculpted the world, if you could wish it to be different, what kind of world would it be? Like Seilatiya's? Or something really different?
Candy	"You do," says Candy to Staren, getting up to go over to the fridge. He returns with three cold sodas--IRON COLA--and a bottle opener. Just in case either would prefer, he also pours some water into a well-loved carnival glass pitcher. Its iridescent surface shines prettily in the light of the gas chandelier. Three glasses, ice cubes. Have to take them apart a certain way. His hand finds itself on Staren's shoulder, and he squeezes it lightly. It's gotta show people under it that they don't need it. It's gotta show people -in- it that they don't need it. And however you do it, it's gotta put the fear of God into the people that benefit from it, because that's the only way you stop them from packing up and setting up their little shitshows somewhere else. Candy heads back to his seat and scoots in. Cracking open a soda, he pours himself a glass. Over the fizzing, "Have to make them understand this isn't something that goes away, you throw enough money, or soldiers, or trigger men around. People still get hurt," he says, nodding his agreement. Another not-Candy voice speaks up. This one is sibilant. patient. A natural-born hunter. But assssk yoursssself. If you strike me only after I have bitten you, and bitten you three timessss--would you listen to my complaintssss? Would you hear my lamentationsss, were I unwilling to hear yourssss? To moan about fairness and loss of life, sitting on a throne earned unfairly, bought with blood--this is their way, Staren. It is good that you question it. "Funny how they only complain about people getting hurt when it suits them, ah? The truth is, they don't give a shit. But they'll use your goodness against you because they know -you- give a shit. And they'll act like what you're doing..." He struggles to explain it with his words, only to realize that he doesn't have to. With his mind open, Staren can divine his meaning without the barrier of her understanding, or of Candy's words: People in power will act like the Starens and Candies of the world are bad-faith actors, laser-focusing on the fact that 'people got hurt' but ignoring the circumstances that put those people there--because it is so very often the machinations of the rich and powerful that put soldiers, or armed guards, or hired guns, or press-ganged, normal, desperate people, in harm's way.
Candy	Phony squeezes his hand and he melts. The space between them, and between him and Staren, is awash in sweet, simple bliss. He reaches forward and squeezes Staren's, too--it's important to him that this good feeling is shared. He leans into her telekinesis, or at least tries cutely and not a little awkwardly to do so. It's earnest. My kinda world would be like this place, more or less. Maybe some things here and there are different. People have the electricity, and the trains, but that is just the wrapper. What's important to me isn't what kinda conveniences people have or how things look. "What's important to me is that people have everything they need to be alive, and that they all have the chance to be happy, whether or not they take it. That, you can't force. But right now a lot of people don't even have the chance, because somebody somewhere else decided," he throws his hands up (no spoon or soda in hand) "Ey! Fuck this community shit, let's make it about how many tons of silver we can move or how many bottles of liquor we can make in a month." "Right now, in a lot of places, the coats, and the silver, and the liquor, and all of these... -Things,-" He says, exasperatedly waving a finger around in a circle, "Control the people. And to me, that is backwards. Because then, to protect the Things, you have the piggies buying the police and the soldiers. Something in their brains tells them it is wrong, and they bury it. A lot of times, they bury it by getting buddy-buddy with the churches, and then the priests are right up there with the cops and the soldiers, keeping all of the bullshit going." He frowns, dragging his spoon through the chile before taking his final bite. Places like this... where you have neighbors, and you can meet someone and be sure that they are not being forced to fuck you over just to eat... Places where you know the mailman and the shoe-maker by name, and where everybody takes care of each other because they're allowed to care... they are rare. And they shouldn't be.
Staren	Wait, isn't it still too hot? Oh, I guess you decided it wasn't. Staren tilts her head forward slightly as Persephone says maybe it wasn't safe, and puts an arm around the taller girl. Staren nods at the assessment of a people-loving heart being a pretty thing, and also shows interest in seeing the answer to Persephone's big questions! Hey, soda! Staren's about to pull back her sleeve and use cybertools, but then realizes the bottle opener will get better leverage anyway. She sees the ice in a glass, "Thanks!" then startles slightly at the shoulder-squeeze but quickly relaxes again. She nods. "I don't understand how to do that yet, but... knowing the principles is good. Staren blinks in recognition. Thats Biteblade! And Pavo! Staren thinks fondly of Biteblade, she's straightforward and always great to have backing you up. She frowns a bit at the thought that people in power will always make us look bad. But then the area is awash in good feelings, and she closes her eyes and takes a moment to enjoy it. She nods at Candy's description of a good world and what stands between here and there. "I came at it from the other side before. The technology exists, out there in the Multiverse, to give people everything... but I couldn't see how to stop them from using it badly, forming these structures again. And with enough technology, those under them might be completely unable to fight... So I never built 'utopia'." She hugs Candy. "That sounds nice! I would like everyone to be able to live in such a world, too."
Persephone Kore	There's something deeply charming about the fact that Persephone actually uses the bottle-opener with her hands, instead of just 'deciding that the bottlecap shouldn't exist anymore'. It's easy to see why she does it, even without reading her mind: her face lights up in cheery satisfaction over the simple pleasure of wrenching metal and being rewarded with a juicy pop-hiss. By contrast: Ahaha. I guess I did decide it shouldn't be too hot! If one looks very closely at the vapor rising from Persephone's chili, they might notice it twisting and swirling in impossibly complex eddies; subtle tricks of physics fractally route bubbles through it at geometrically ordained intervals, ruthlessly optimizing the cooling of wherever she's about to take her next spoonful from. I didn't really think about it! Of course, her multitasking is flawless: when Candy leans forward into the force pinching his cheek, it washes forward over him. Spurred on by that simple bliss, Persephone momentarily forgets that I'm not allowed to have everything I want, and a half-dozen simultaneous desires breach the thin surface from wanting into doing. A careless wish grazes his cheek like fingernails; another holds his face as if with two 'hands' adoringly; yet another tousles his hair, and so many other subtler things they can't all be counted in the moment- And then Persephone blinks, and catches herself, and it all stops cold. Un-Persephone-like expressions show on her face and on her heart for just a moment: a trace of guilt, a bit of embarrassment. For a second there, I wasn't gentle enough. Then it's all reeled back in, and she recomposes herself in an easy, practiced way with an apologetic glance. Staren provides the change of topic she so obviously wants. No, those are Candy's poker friends! We haven't been introduced. But he talks a lot about how badly he beats you at cards~ She's halfway through munching on one of the roasted nopal cacti when Candy finishes his explanation of his ideal world, and swaps from nonverbal to verbal communication after she swallows: No 'transposition of immanent Jungian-Newtonian elements', no 'usurpation of the signifier by the signified'? Ahaha. Dr. Carpathia would say "that you don't have any imagination, you know!" "... But I'm not her. Even if it's humble- or maybe because it's humble- I think that's still a beautiful thing to want. Places like this remind me of home. I think it's sad that not every child gets to grow up in a place like that."
Candy	"Yeah, her tricks like that are pretty neat," says Candy as the steam rises from Phony's dish only at her whims. Plain and simple admiration is painted on his face, and radiating from his mental presence. Staren will find--in fact, it isn't clear -what- those other voices are. But they do give their names, if asked. The old, hoary voice is Coyotl. The soft, shrill voice is Tzincatli. And the sibilant hunter is Tlilcoatl. They are, as near as Phony and Staren can tell, friends and 'mental roommates' of Candy's. They do the explaining, because Candy can't. Not because it eludes him, or because the words fail him, or because they are particularly mysterious. It's because Phony's litany of sweet gestures render him quite unable to think of much at all. The flame of his mental presence dances joyfully as he leans into Staren's hug, letting out a soft little 'mmm!' He's every bit as warm as his mental presence, and hugs back. Until speech returns to him a few moments after Phony catches herself, that little, satisfied noise is all he can verbally articulate. Poker friends! Ha ha. I suppose we are. We used to beat him as often as not. When he was still very young. These days, playing is a formality--but we play, still, because it is his way of reaching through the vast ocean of potential, his vessel for holding and shaping it. Candy coughs. "...um. Well... I wouldn't so much..." Of course, with his mind this open, Phony and Staren both can pick up that Candy didn't mind Phony's 'forgetfulness' at all. If that's forgetting to be gentle, then maybe you forget a little more often. Scratching the back of his head and no longer bothering to hide his blush, "Well, unshitulating the psychic, uh, whatever, you know, I trust Dr. Carpathia to know more about that than me, ah? Hahaha." There's a pause. Then he reaches across the table, taking one of their hands in each of his. "If you guys would like... I'd like it if you thought of this as a home. Come in and out how you like, stay for as long as you like. I love company." Standing up, he takes his plate to the sink and washes it off. When Star and Phony are done, he'll gladly do the same for theirs, before he, as if by perfectly practiced rote, strides over to the phonograph just as the record ends. He turns it over, and a heartfelt, soothing ballad featuring only a guitar and a singer fill the kitchen, between the comfy scratches of well-loved vinyl. By the time the singer begins, he's back at the table--at Phony and Staren's side of it. Candy wraps an arm around each one. There is a flicker of the fire that is his mental presence--an excited little spark, when he leans down and pecks both Staren and Phony on the cheek. "How about some ice cream?"
Staren	Not gentle enough? What was that? No, it's rude to ask. After the hug, she looks between the two of them and opens her own soda with the bottle opener, pouring it over ice. "Carpathia has her way... it sounds like neither Candy nor myself are masters of psychological manipulation.". And then, just as she's sipping her drink, the voices she took for aural 'visions' RESPOND AND IDENTIFY THEMSELVES, and she sputters her drink, getting soda on the table and her turtleneck. She looks for a napkin to clean up with, 'listening' at the same time. Poker as a way to reach and shape power. That brings up memories of an old, old friend that aren't of much relevance now. She gives a short giggle at Candy's quip about forgetting to be gentle. Then her hand is taken. She's seldom been given such an offer. "I... I don't know what to say! I'm not unappreciative, but it IS kind of out of the way so I don't know how often I'll actually come here... but it's not because I'm ungrateful!" Eventually she eats, and listens to the song. "So... are your mental houseguests why we can't--" she starts to ask, and then" ~peck~. She blushes red but is flustered rather than mad. "I, uh, um, hmm..." she nods. Who doesn't like ice cream?
Persephone Kore	Persephone deflates a little at Candy's approval of her 'forgetfulness'. "It's not like that," she says softly. Her chin rests on her hand, but her expression is a thoughtful neutral verging on a frown. A complex web of feelings, sprawling and deep-rooted in her heart, can briefly be glimpsed. The moment for which they're visible isn't enough to take in their full complexity, but they still leave a surface impression. That impression is a guilty sense of "irresponsibility" or "carelessness", independent from right or wrong, and from harmed or unharmed. The things one is not allowed to want. The wants one is not allowed to act on. She doesn't linger on that. Inhale, exhale, and she's perfectly centered again. Her smile is back, and it's genuine, not forced. "I have a home at Sapient Heuristics, you know! If I were gone too often, it'd break all their hearts." (Isn't there a staff of hundreds? ... No, it's still believable that each one of them would personally adore her.) "But visiting sometimes... I'd like that a lot." The drops of soda very politely and subtly remove themselves from Staren's turtleneck: the liquid evaporates off without heat as if boiling into space (because she did, in fact, create little cavitation bubbles of hard vacuum), and then the sugary residue is gently scraped from individual fibers. When Candy comes back around, his tactical error is kissing Staren first. He doesn't have the element of surprise anymore: when he moves in to peck Phony's cheek, his lips meet an immovable plane of force an inch from her skin. She leans back, outmaneuvering him, and kisses his cheek instead. "Glad we've established the 'pecking order'," she says, smiling that eyes-shut smile with utter innocence. "Now: what kind of ice cream did you get, Candy?"
Candy	There's a musical little giggle, when Candy notices how flustered that gesture makes Staren. It's her first time visiting, so he'll take it easy on her this time. Still... he saw, and the glimmer in his eye can tell her that he won't soon forget. But when he moves to smooch Phony... "...My wahy are part of it," says Candy once again blushing cute patches of bronze as he now opens the freezer. He doesn't try and hide the way he touches his cheek, after the fact. Despite him calling it an 'icebox,' the hum that wafts out does suggest it's electric. A little tub is opened and he grabs a scoop, doling out two generous scoops for Star, Phony and himself. When Phony asks, he shows the box off. The label is in Spanish, but his finger helpfully points out the flavor. 'Arraya.' It's green, and there's an image of some kind of green fruit on the packaging. It's small--some kind of berry. It tastes almost like the middle point between strawberry and guava. Sweet, slightly tangy. "When I'm not hiding the whole thing like Tzincatli taught me," he says, gesturing around his head with an index finger twirled in the air, "They can keep people out, if I want. That's how come I'm sure I can handle those assholes Mr. G-Man mentioned at the Motherlobe," he nods. Mage or witch, expect a bit of mental fortitude from one who would bend the world to a sssshape of their liking. Candelario simply has... more will than the average will-worker. But Persephone knowssss thisss, we are sssssure. Tlilcoatl might be laughing.
Candy	The intricacies of Phony's feelings, when it comes to that momentary lapse, do draw a reaction. How could they not? There is a strong sense of curiosity, mingled with a desire to comfort--but he can let it pass, and he does, when he sees that she centers herself. "I'm glad you guys both understand why I offered, even if you can't take me up on it all the time." Quiet, simple joy radiates from his mental presence. "Maybe I could come and visit you guys, too. I know I live out in the sticks, so if that's an easier way to spend time with you two... I'm all for it," he says, before savoring a spoonful of ice cream. Again, Candy cleans the plates, after the sweet-tangy ice cream is done. When they're ready to go, he's happy to drive them back to Cuernavaca, where the nearest gate is. However long they stay after dessert, Candy does his best to make it a warm, pleasant evening, sharing a comfy couch with the two of them and showing off some of his favorite records. The warmth of his mental presence never fades, even, if they take him up on it, during the ride back. He's genuinely glad they came over--more than that, glad to know them. People make life worth living.