Scene #7891: Ayudarla

Owner	Pose
Candy	"There are a lot of things that could be. It doesn't look like a wahy, and you know I don't like to speculate. Sorry, Candelario, but you'll have to do some more looking. And you should call more often. And stop letting those yankees call you that ridiculous name. I don't want people thinking my nephew is the town bicycle. ...Hello?" ... "You say it came to her in dreams? Well, demons here do often do that, but this doesn't look like any I've ever seen. If you want my personal advice, I'd count my blessings that this sword of hers keeps it at bay. Now, if I might trouble you for some lyrium, the whole of the tower would be in your debt. The templars have gotten cranky as of late, with the shipment held up in the port." ... "I've never seen anything like it." ... "There are many ways in which the Living Force reflects and refracts the movements of the heart--but this is something apart from that. Something I've got no experience with. If that's all you wanted, get out of my forest, please. The cranky old man routine takes work to keep up." ... "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we don't have any programs like that here. Good thing, too. Looks like a nasty piece of work. Would you like a cookie?" ... Morelos Free Territories Town of Amacuzac March 1922 Candy slings the satchel in frustration. It hits the colorful loveseat with a soft 'whump.' Copies of several drawings spill out onto the cushions. Drawings depicting a pre-destroyed city and a towering, ill-defined but imposing figure. His shadow briefly passes over those drawings as he enters into the kitchen. It's a study in warm, saturated tones--colors that'd clash, if not for the particular hue, like oranges and turquoises. The rich, red tile on the floor pairs nicely. A lightly worn dining chair scrapes across the floor as Candy flops into it. He's only able to stay seated for a few finger-tapping moments before, rising with a huff, he heads over to the telephone sitting on the counter. "Maybe her friends can help." It's a long, slim thing, with a bell shaped transmitter at the top and a receiver affixed to a wire. Holding the receiver to his ear, Candy makes a few calls, rotary dial click-click-clicking as it spins. The general message is the same. "Hey, I wanna help Lilian with something and I've asked everybody I can think of. I ain't doing this on my own. Can you come over and we'll talk?" There's one person he hadn't called--not directly, anyway. Rather, he'd invited her to call him, not so long ago.
Candy	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 afternoon sky is bright and blue and clear. 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 that runs through Amacuzac, 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. 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 yard' 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. The shutters are open this afternoon, and the smell of something savory drifts into the yard. "It's open!" is Candy's response to any knocks at the front door. The interior of his house 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 the counter, one may see the phone he used to call, the earpiece hung neatly upon its hook. Beside it, a plate of tamales and a pitcher of what looks like thick chocolate milk, steaming slightly. Candy himself is busy whisking the drink in this pitcher, but looks over his shoulder and manages a smile. Dressed in his usual, save the addition of a pink apron, he finishes his work and tosses the whisk into the wash basin. Untying the apron, he hangs it up. "Thanks for coming. I'll get some more chairs." They appear, without any ado--enough to seat everyone at that scratched and well-loved dining table.
Tamamo	Even Tamamo's 'lighter,' miko-style outfit should, by all rights, be too heavy a layering for a climate like Morelos has, being closer to a third the distance from the equator as the one she'd just left. If it's not the heat, it's the humidity. Small mercy, maybe, that the rainy season shouldn't be for another couple of months. And yet, she appears perfectly comfortable. She's hardly even dusty from the trip here, having accepted both directions and a lift from the first friendly person with a vehicle to appear near her. She keeps little cloth bags, containing good luck charms, secreted up her detached sleeves for just this sort of occasion, and offers one as thanks for the time taken to take her here, upon exiting and before approaching the door to Candy's home. Not everyone has the same feelings about other forms of recompense, but hardly anyone couldn't use a little more 'luck,' in her expert opinion. She knocks, of course, and makes her way in with a "please pardon the intrusion" once Candy calls back, closing the door behind her. I'll get some more chairs. "Oh, how many do you expect to arrive? I suppose I have only become more curious as to this meeting's purpose." Her tone is at once warm and slightly distant, as if she's not quite 'here.'
Persephone Kore	I bet the sky here would be beautiful at night. It's so strange, to think that I might see some of the same constellations as from home. It feels like Pluto should be way out beyond the stars, doesn't it? Like I should be seeing them from the other side. I guess Earth is never really that far away. Persephone carries a plastic container under one arm (like tupperware, but unfamiliar) and clutches a little white paper bag in her other hand. She doesn't have far to walk; the Queen in Veils set her down exactly as far away as would be scenic, and not irritating. The chickens calm as she approaches; energetic clucking turns to soft murmuring and trills. You can feel it later, or earlier if you're really paying attention! It's a warm, gentle tug at the back of one's mind; a reorienting of psychic gravity to make it just a little easier to feel and do what she wants, and a little harder to do what she doesn't. And what I want is for everyone to be happy, of course! She doesn't knock. Psychics don't tend to be in the habit. The door opens on its own so Phony doesn't have to free up a hand. "It's always too perfect, Candy," she says warmly, making her way to the kitchen. "After last time, I couldn't remember how the colors went. When I tried to picture them in my head, they always clashed. But here, somehow, they go together perfectly. And I know that when I leave, I'll forget the trick again." Oddly, she does look surprised to see Tamamo there. Eyebrows lift; her smile widens; she waves, just a little, from the wrist. "I didn't know she was your friend, Candelario," she says while easing herself down into a chair. "But I'm glad." The plastic container is placed on the table, but left unopened; she sets the little paper bag down on the floor instead. Her smile drops, briefly, when she looks over and addresses the bunrei. What could be a fine neutral expression on anyone else looks wistful and solemn on her. "There wasn't time to say it, the last time we met. But I regret a lot of the things I did in the last few months. I've made up with Lilian already. But I know some of them affected you, too. I didn't bring an apology gift or anything, since I didn't expect we'd meet here, but... I really am sorry." When that conversation-branch finds a pause, she looks back over to Candy, cheek in her hand and beatific smile blossoming again. "This feels the most like home to me, of anywhere that isn't. But that's not the only reason why we're here, is it? To unwind and see you in an apron?"
Xion	'Hey, I wanna help Lilian with something and I've asked everybody I can think of. I ain't doing this on my own. Can you come over and we'll talk?' Xion holds her phone to her ear, thinking about this for a few seconds. She has to process. Mentally paw through her quest log. Under Pending she begins to add search terms - Wendy's Woman had helped optimized her lists with searchability. "Uhhh, what did Candy talk about. . ." She scrolls through hundreds of spoilered requests with a blank look on her face, her finger swiping and swiping and swiping and-- "Oh, it's probably the bank." Dressed up in black leather pants and thick-heeled shoes, a silver-clasped belt, and a button-down red collared shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and rolled back, and her top button at the neck open. When she arrives - just snapping into reality in the shadow of the closing door - she is already taking off a pair of large sunglasses with one hand and a duffel bag of dynamite in the other and disappearing them before starting to get out of her shoes. "It's not the bank. I got alllll dressed up for the bank, because if you were asking me and calling everyone, you just wanted that bank door open, but no, it's... Candy, what is this?" Xion says this all from square behind Persephone, Looking Respectfully, until the taller girl heads up to ease into a chair. "Because if it's not the bank I can just... Go?" She points back at the closed door.
Lilian Rook	Scarborough Otherside North Rook Family Estate December 2087 The Understanding would parse it as one idea with two words--but for those who don't benefit from it, it appears as one word. ¡AYUDARLA! Ayudame. 'Please' is one of the few English words he knows. It's written beneath the second word. A radio frequency and a phone number are scrawled beneath it, and the note and photo alike are slipped between the letters on the keyboard. March 2087 A certain woman in full uniform is thumbing through a checklist of tasks, scratching off the last two and flipping the note pages back and forth a few times just to be certain. For some reason, she'd just never quite trusted a phone to keep track of them, and now for once she's quite glad of using pen and paper for everything. The master of the house would still be out another day due to the disaster at the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center. Every member of the service staff had pitched in with her plan to have everything done as early as possible, working rotating overtime shifts; even the chauffeur had made multiple trips in and out of town, filling the tank on his own, to bring in everything necessary for the gardeners, the cooks, the maids, to get as far ahead of schedule as possible. All so that Cecilia could use this time to leave, without the master, the mistress, or her charge, knowing. A nervous, pacing trip is made back across the eastern wing, up the stairs, to Lilian's room. Cecilia excuses herself in by habit, and briefly contemplates the unknowable fine mechanics of why it is the magic on the door never bothers her. She passes by the desk, smiling to herself at the open sketchbook, left open to a warmly coloured portrait of an older blonde woman opposite of a recent Tamamo, and opens up the closet, accessing the false back that Lilian thinks she doesn't know about, the same way she used to when it was a service hatch back in the 1980s, before this was a bedroom. She eyes the unnerving object ensconsed in layers of monitoring wards --that girl, honestly-- and breathes a sigh of relief seeing that it isn't moved. She's not certain why it would, but it's kept her up at night ever since she first saw it. Everything is put back exactly as she found it, down to the millimeter --beg pardon Lilian, but you weren't the only one who learned to be watchful for how things were left-- and closes the door on the way out. A long, nervous trot takes her all the way back to her own quarters on the opposite side of the house. Cecilia passes over the puzzle left on the desk --there's only one piece missing, but it'd feel not quite right to finish it off until everything from that day is squared away-- and finds that letter again. Cecilia turns it over fretfully in her hands --for what must be the twentieth time, and yet . . .-- and reaches for her smartphone, hesitates, and thinks better of it. Instead, she goes into her own closet, and gingerly unpacks the ancient rotary phone she used to use --goodness, not since the nineties at least-- and wires it back into the line that she never fully disconnected --it just seemed like a bad idea-- and sighing in relief when she finds that her memory is still as sharp as ever --no one ever came around to remove the line; why should they if everyone obeyed?-- and pulls over the telephone number on the sheet.
Lilian Rook	Cecilia's eyes linger on the photograph --a forgery; Lilian never eats away from home by herself, she hates how it feels; but it was very sweet of him to try all the same-- and then fall on the scrapbook she'd found it wedged between the pages of. A few moments are spent flipping through it and packing it into her handbag, along with everything else, and then she begins twirling the dial. "How on Earth does this work though? Surely all the phone numbers must be used up already, yes?" . . . . . . "Hello, yes. This is Cecilia Wynne Rose. Beg pardon, I know I am the one calling you, but if I may ask, who am I speaking to?"
Candy	"Sometimes, you get extra, and I love company," says Candy to Tamamo--who, it should be noted, found an even warmer welcome with the woman who gave her a lift, once her offer of recompense was made. These are, after all, people who primarily work to support themselves and their families, not because of any overt pressure from externalities--a blessing is as good as anything else. "Phony's here," he says, quietly, smiling as he gets plates and glasses from the cupboard. He knows by the quiet of the chickens outside. They're set down on the table, one plate and one glass for each seat, before the tamales and the pitcher of champurrado are placed centrally there. Turning to face her when she enters, he beams, his mental presence immediately shedding its cloak. That sense of calm washes over him, as Phony expresses how much she enjoys being here. "Glad you like it," he offers, arms folded back, looking down and idly grinding his boot against the tile. Did he mean that about the apron, or his house? Probably a little of both. "Oh, Tamamo?" He perks up. "Well, I like her a lot. She's really nice, and she's fancy but it never feels like she's looking down on you. The opposite actually, like she's thinking real hard about everything you say." He glances over at Tamamo with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "So when she tells you to bite the curb, you know she means it, ah? Haha. Plus--I'd run a mile for one of her cookies." But there are questions about why everyone's been asked to come over. Candy nods. "Sure. Just a second." He briefly disappears into the living room, returning with one of the copies he'd made of young Lilian's drawings. "We're here because of this motherfucker." He taps a spot wherein there's a humanoid figure, all black, with four fiery points in its head, and a ring of flames behind it. A picture of a hole opening in a red sky and pouring out blood over a pre-smashed cityscape in childish and amateurish hand. "Not the bank exactly," he says to Xion. "But I love the outfit. Nah, this seems like the kind of thing I'd want your help for. It was trying to get at Lilian in her dreams for a long ass time. Cecilia tried everything you could think of. It wasn't a... well, fuck it, I'm not a brain doctor," he says, pouring himself a glass of that thick, chockolatey drink. It's actually bitter, but with cinnamon, and that contrasts well with the savory of the tamales. "...But it didn't seem like no brain thing. Because they tried all the brain stuff, and it didn't work. The only thing that -did- work was that sword of hers." Candy sits backwards in a seat, one arm resting on the back, the opposite hand scratching his head as he puzzles it out. "So that tells me that it's an actual thing, out there, somewhere. And the sword, it keeps the dreams away. But -I- would sleep better at night if this thing was dead, because--" One of Candy's chickens has perched on the windowsill of the kitchen, pecking at the window from outside, gently trilling at Persephone. He smiles weakly at the chicken. "...'cause you can keep something out all you want, but if it wants to get in, it's going to be thinking of ways to do it." His hand comes down from scratching his head to point at the destroyed cityscape drawn there, when he's interrupted by the phone ringing. Forgetting himself, he hops onto the counter, legs crossed, and places it in his lap, picking up the little bell and holding it to his ear. If both hands weren't occupied, there's the sense he'd be twirling his hair around a finger.
Candy	"Oh, it's Cecilia!" He hops off the counter, holding the archaic device up to his mouth to give his name. "Of course you can ask, Ms. Cecilia. Candelario Maria Estevez de la Fuente. I was just talking about you! Listen, me and some other friends of Lilian are really happy with how she's doing lately, but there's something I found out that... I dunno." His brow furrows. "I'd like it if there was less things for her to worry about you know?" "The drawings she did when she was little. The thing that used to come after her, before she found the sword, or the sword found her. Did she tell you anything about it? Also, do you wanna come over? I made tamales and champurrado. Tamamo's here, too. You wanna say hi to her?" Holding the mouthpiece to his chest, he asides to Xion, "By the way, you can definitely help with the bank, my friend. I'll get with you later, ah?" He titters conspiratorially. "Okay." Then, innocently, he un-muffles the mouthpiece.
Tamamo	Tamamo, by contrast, doesn't look surprised to see Persephone, though one could thank Candy's warning for that. "We are acquainted," she says, in what might be either a vague and indirect confirmation or a gentle correction. To her apology, Tamamo slightly raises her brow, settling into a neutral, "I see." This is soon followed by, "If you feel that way, could you please cease this tugging? I am familiar with the feeling of gravity, as well as this use of it. It is quite rude, and makes it difficult to believe in your sincerity." Tamamo's attention immediately shifts, as she tilts her head to the side to see Xion's outfit. Innocently curious, "Is this the customary attire for visiting a bank?" The duffel bag, she assumes, was for depositing. Plus--I'd run a mile for one of her cookies. "Oh, such flattery, and poor timing, that I should be without, today. It is unavoidable that some things be at their best when fresh, and there are only so many hours of daylight within a week." She does, instead, accept a tamal. A picture of a hole opening in a red sky... "I might wish this to be less familiar. It brings to mind London, a city ravaged, and above which an opening to another place was made. The details of this are, however, somewhat beyond my knowledge. Though I have some experience in searches based upon small clues, neither drawing, nor description, are most useful to my particular techniques. I wonder, then, how we might proceed. Certainly, I would wish to be rid of such a thing, should it be true that it does exist, and awaits an opening, still." I'd like it if there was less things for her to worry about you know? There is a pause before Tamamo says, "That is quite kind of you."
Lilian Rook	The line crackles slightly on the other end, but comes through clearly. "Candelario . . . Oh, well I suppose it would be overly familiar to use Lilian's little nickname. Is Mister Estevez acceptable to you?" "Other friends? Oh that's wonderful! I'm glad to hear it. Things have certainly been brighter most recently, ever since you know." "Ah, this has to do with your . . . mmm, well, water under the bridge. It does though, doesn't it Mister Estevez?" Long seconds of dead air and faintly noise-fuzzed silence. "More than anyone, I believe. It was some time ago, so my memory of it may not be perfectly to account, but I . . . well I did take notes. My aunt's step-brother was a child-- oh beg pardon, I should simply find our letters, yes?" "Come over? Why, I'm certain that would be very nice Mister Estevez, but I believe you're a little bit out of the way, yes? How might I get there before lights-out?" "And I would love to say hello! Ah, can she hear me? If not, you're free to tell her that I'm an admirer of her work~" She doesn't specify what work.
Persephone Kore	Candy earns a little wink. Of course she notices his heel grinding into the floor anxiously- or, if she doesn't, she reads the feeling off his now-opened heart. His hair is playfully ruffled by the universe, in accordance with Persephone's will. Both. Both are good. Phony holds a hand halfway over her mouth in responding to Tamamo; her eyes open a little wider, and she laughs as if she'd made a minor social gaffe. "Oh! Most people like it. But if you don't, I can try my best!" She shuts her eyes, hands folded in her lap. Gradually, the 'tugging' dims, although it doesn't disappear completely: there remains the sense of being made to roll DC 0 will saves. The appearance that she is the most 'real' thing in the room persists. "That's a little better, isn't it?" Though she's yielding, there is no second apology made for that. There is the sense that she is humoring what she believes to be a very peculiar personal preference. Why wouldn't people want to feel me? Well, I'm sure she has her reasons. "You look good, Xion. Brighter than the last time I saw you," Phony says while Candy gets the plates. Her eyes are shut in mirth over the mistake, her face rests in her hand, but her tone is- as ever- sincere. "The button-ups are a good look. Why red, though? Does that help with bank-robbing? I feel like white would go great with your hair." When Candy does get Cecilia on the line, Phony waves to the handset, as if expecting the gesture to somehow be seen. "I think he likes being called 'Candy', Cecilia. Don't worry about it," she says sweetly. "And it's good to hear from you again! The triplets are already looking forward to next time." The chicken at the window is scooped up by an unseen force, swept around through the doorway, and deposited in Persephone's lap, where it remains remarkably docile and stationary. The piece of paper that Candy was examining floats over to her, too, now that he's left it unattended. "Doesn't that one remind you of London? Did she ever see London as a child?" she says, addressing Candy and Cecilia. "With the hole in the sky, all red, and the ruined city." The horns make her purse her lips in dissatisfied thought. "It is always four, isn't it? I don't like that number at all. Three is better, but it keeps coming up four. Like on the tree."
Xion	"It's the customary attire of someone trying to look vaguely attractive-" She puts herself down, like this. "-and having a bunch of stuff to try and do, uh, 'bomb heist'. I looked up some stuff on-line, and then tried to look at some magazines for an outfit, and-" She finally gets out of her shoes and hurries to the table, though there's an ill energy between Tamamo and Persephone building that she doesn't want to get involved in due to the conflict aversion of the youngest child. Sometimes people fought and that's fine, okay, anyway, we're- Xion is immediately charmed by the chocolate cinnamon drink, spending far more time smelling at it than actually sipping - taking only little dips for the barest taste before smelling more. "Mm, I always like the smell of cinnamon more than actually eating it. It kind of tastes like spicy dirt, if I'm really critiquing it, but the smell is the most incredible part. And yet people put it on food, and then--" Cecilia is on the phone, and Xion pops with surprise - having not expected it, because there is a lot of Psyching Noise <TM> in the area, wants and desires and... Tamales, wowowowowow! Xion distracts herself fully by admiring food, realllllly not wanting to get into it. "Anyway, uh, really actually Candy, I didn't think you'd want me involved with that because all the adventure's... just gone, you know? It's a thing in a place, it's not like they can -stop- me. But that's sooooo awful, so I'm not gonna. You know? I guess I can sorta help out, but it's..." She raises a hand to wobble it, grimacing slightly. "I dunno, it feels really out of spirit. Everyone's special quest and I'm sort of like. . . being gross, I guess. Does that make sense? Sometimes cool things happen when you don't just win instantly. Plus, I really want Lilian to rob a bank, I think it'll really make her feel better about herself. Isn't that what's this about? Cecilia, hi, we're getting Lilian to rob a bank I think, or, Candy is, but I'm sorta..." "Are you trying to. . . be a dream chicken? At the window?" Xion didn't get it at all.
Candy	There's a bronze blush that creeps up Candy's cheeks. The universe is kind. Then: "Awww, Bonita! Did you make a friend?" The chicken nestles against Phony. "Sorry, Phony loves my chickens, and they love her. Mr. Estevez is fine, though! Candy's okay, too," he says, smiling at Phony. Yes, he likes it. "You know, I could get you out here a -couple- of ways, Ms. Cecilia." He says 'Ms. Cecilia' in that same way as kids who've just met a friend's parent. "I've got... kind of a thing like Lilian's. I can hold everything still, you know? And pick and choose who gets to move. Matter of fact, name a place and I'll come and pick you up. You'll be -back- before lights out, not to mention here before then," he says with a little pride. Holding the mouthpiece to his chest, "She says she's a big fan of your work," Candy relays to Tamamo, with a quiet undertone of excitement. "Oh," he says, holding it back up properly, "Bring them notes, them letters, whatever you think could help us. I'll be there in a little bit, ah?" By minimizing the passage of time between traveling through warpgates and his skill for teleportation, he's confident he can pick her up and drop her back off within a reasonable timeframe. Once Cecilia's named a place for them to meet, he says his goodbyes (and holds the mouthpiece out to everyone so they can do the same) then hangs the earpiece back up. This, it should be noted, is not before Xion explains that Lilian may be robbing a bank in the near future. "It does look familiar, huh," says Candy to Phony and Tamamo, coming around to take a look at it once again. "It's not that -we're- trying to be the dream chicken," the farmer explains to Xion, after a delay. "It's that this thing is, and we're going to find out what it wants, and if it wants shit like this," he says, tapping on the picture of the destroyed city, "Then we get rid of it." She then explains her feelings about the bank. "Sure, maybe," he says, lightly shrugging her shoulders. "You're right that part of it's about making her feel better. Maybe you don't come with us for that one. But I tell you what--one day soon we do one for you. Something that makes you feel good, and not 'gross.'" "I'll be back in a little bit, everybody. Half hour, tops. Make yourselves at home, okay?"
Tamamo	Oh! Most people like it. But if you don't, I can try my best! "Yes, I would suppose that most of the people you meet are a good deal weaker than yourself." Tamamo's tone is placidly calm, her sensed mind likewise, as a gently rippling lake. That's a little better, isn't it? "Is that all that you can manage...?" She trails off, questioning, pauses, and then, "Ah, I see the manner of it. Yes, that is somewhat improved." And yet, she gives no indication as to what she saw. Smoothly shifting attention once more, this time to Xion's observations, Tamamo says, "And so, you, too, have realized, that there are those spices used chiefly for their aroma, though there are also those who prefer to -- oh, but we did not meet to discuss this, just now. It simply struck me as a poignant example of the variety of such arts that even the bark of a tree, as with cinnamon, might be used for its flavor. Pardon me." Briefly animated, she settles down. She says she's a big fan of your work. Tamamo says, "Oh? I can only wonder as to which she means. I fear I have taken up more... let us say 'hobbies,' recently, than can be reasonably practiced. Ah, tell her that--" and the mouthpiece is held out for her, "Hello, Ms. Cecilia. I would say you should not trouble yourself, but it seems that Mr. Candelario is willing to take on the entirety of this trouble, himself. I cannot deny that the circumstances present a need." Plus, I really want Lilian to rob a bank. Tamamo steeples her fingers, presses her lips into a thin line, and looks away for a moment, but doesn't say anything.
Lilian Rook	"Oh, I hear miss Xion! Hello! Ah, is it strangely refreshing to speak off the clock like this? But, my, robbing a bank is . . ." The following pause is audibly comprised of Cecilia deciding how much she really thinks it'd matter if Lilian did or didn't rob a bank. "Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing she's gotten into by far. I'm certain you have your reasons." "Ah, of course, no small number of things, Lady Tamamo no Mae! I hope it isn't terribly presumptuous of me to say that I'm familiar what you've been using my kitchen for, no? And your needlework of course, too. And-- well, you've certainly had an exciting life. But most of all, I'm an admirer of how much of a wonderful influence you've been on that girl. And not to worry! I intended to make good use of this day either way!" Of course, she immediately agrees to being 'given a lift' by Candy. The place she tells him to come get her at is actually alarmingly far from where he's vaguely aware the house is. She does not explain to him how she plans to get there in ten minutes, and yet . . . Not Long After: Cecilia enters through the front door like a reasonable adult. She evidently did not set aside time for herself to change, because she is still wearing far too much of her uniform for this part of the world, and looking just a tiny bit sweaty for it. She has a heavy leather handbag with old-fashioned latches and way too much stuff crammed into it for the time being, carried with both hands, and asks Candy "You would you mind terribly if I set it down on the table over there?" after seeing herself in. "And shall I put on-- Oh! I see you already have refreshments. Thoughtful!" "My though, now that I see it for myself, it really is quite a surprise to see you all in one place. But it's lovely too." Once she does, she of course removes the scrapbook that Candy had rifled through on that day, and what looks like two personal journals, filled with little colour-coded sticky tags, one having overflowed its intimidating girth and needed half the other. They're marked 2066-2082 and 2083- . "Now, please be very clear with me, Mister Estevez; what precisely do you need to help Lilian? As a professional, a caregiver, and a lady, I can't simply allow you to rifle through everything. You understand."
Candy	"Oh, no, Ms. Cecilia, lemme help with that," he offers, taking it to place on the table. He is quite pleased to have need of the extra chair, after all. "I understand. I need everything she mighta told you about this thing," he says, tapping on the figure with the four points of flame. "It don't look like the kinda thing that thinks like you and me. But anything about... what she mighta figured it wanted, what it was doing, how it was coming after her in them dreams. Where it came from, if we're that lucky." He pauses. "If that don't help enough, lemme put it to you this way--I wanna find this thing where it sleeps and get it out of her hair, however we gotta do that. Katrina said Bryce ain't too happy about her needing the sword to keep it away." He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know nothing about the sword, me. But I know I don't like the thought of this motherfucker trying to find ways around it."
Tamamo	Tamamo smiles at the words she receives over the phone, though of course, that's hardly something a rotary-dial will transmit. Upon seeing Cecilia arrive, Tamamo reaches into her sleeve, and pulls out what looks like nothing so much as a very ornate bookmark, with a thick, fraying string. She offers it to her, saying, "Place this in a pocket, if you please." There's been ample time since that incident of looking through tropical islands with Lilian, and she's been sure to keep spare charms for sharing, ever since, tuned for the benefit of people who don't share her own, innate resistance to heated environments.
Persephone Kore	"Most people are a lot weaker than me," Persephone says casually, with no evident pride. "But I don't think that has much to do with it, Tamamo. Even strong people- no, especially strong people, want to be given permission to relax sometimes! So I think you really must be special, somehow." "It feels like 'punching down'," Phony says to Xion, nodding slightly. "Without a good enough personal reason to get you fired up about it. Is that how you mean 'gross'? Haha, but don't worry. I'm sure there'll be other chances to help your friends that don't make you feel that way." There is a decent chance that Phony does not know what a bank is. The first time she sips that chocolate-milk-like drink, her face scrunches up in bitter surprise. "Oh. Oh, it sort of is like spicy dirt, isn't it? Ahaha." But she does come back for another sip, and another, and by the third or fourth she really does seem to be enjoying it. "Oh! Candy! Before you go, take one of these, okay?" She finally remembers to open the plastic container she'd put down on the table minutes earlier. "They're really not as good as Tamamo's, I bet, but I felt like I should bring something somehow." Inside the box are homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies. They are amateurishly made- too big, too soft, prone to crumbling if you don't hold them just right- but they're also pretty tasty. Also Not Long After: If left to her own devices, Phony spends that "less than half an hour" in a very relaxed way. She communes with her chicken, nibbles on some tamales slowly, stares at the drawing with tight lips, and maybe does a bit of eyes-shut quiet meditation. She does find the time to ask one of those drawings "Why are you the way that you are?", just in case it has any secrets to yield there. She expects to glimpse a young Lilian clutching a crayon or marker in her hand; what else? Cecilia's arrival doesn't prompt her to get up out of her chair- she is, after all, still responsible for the chicken- but she waves enthusiastically as soon as she comes into view. "Cecilia!! I'm sorry for all the trouble. Oh, you didn't even get a day off, did you? Sit down, please! I brought cookies, and Candy is a wonderful cook." While she and Candy negotiate the exact limits of what is to be shared, Phony reaches under the table to where she'd placed the little white paper bag and slides it over the table towards Cecilia wordlessly. It needn't demand her attention immediately, but whenever she has a moment to take possession of it, it is hers.
Xion	"Smell and taste work really close together." Xion agrees to the food-chat, falling easily into something she can grasp on. The rest... She hadn't want to even offer help for the bank job, out of the obligation it would create. Involving her would take extra work for little - negative, really - benefit. She would be involved but it would be 'punching down'. Just having the words make the rest of it snap into vision within her, the memories, thoughts, and a dull physical sickness in the pit of her stomach like hunger. It makes the transition between NOW and NOT LONG AFTER... well-eased by the light munching of snacks. "So, I'm sorry. I must've asked, and you explained it really well, but I'm still really jumbled up. Or, are we just piling that cake date together with this, Tamamo?" Xion brightens considerably. "I'm fine with double dates, I know people are busy."
Lilian Rook	Cecilia, of course, as a consummately well-mannered lady, makes sure to accept Tamamo's offered help as a first matter of all things. Going by the overly humbled way she thanks Tamamo several times for it --really, there's hardly any need; you hardly ever ask for anything!--, she seems to believe it is some kind of carefully handmade bookmark after all, given as a gift when the books come out. She gets halfway to rifling for gloves again before catching the rest. "A pocket? Oh, well, if that's for the best at the moment, then I've happened to have tailored no shortage!" Indeed, it sort of disappears 'somewhere' into her partial uniform. A little while later: "Ah, now that I'm not running myself down here, it really is quite a lovely day isn't it? I expected this part of the world to be a little less kind to old women like me." That might almost pass under ordinary conversation, if someone assumed she was the type to think of 'thirty five' as 'old'. "Hardly a wonder, then, that you can stay so sunny all the time, Mister Estevez~" Fondly regarding Xion, she presses her hand to her cheek in a moment's thought. "A cake date? Is this a sort of Japanese tradition? Or am I simply to envy once again how young girls stay so thin so easily, haha~ Ah, but if you or Lady Tamamo no Mae are to make the attempt to drag Lilian out for a reprise, be sure to tell a good fib or two about the calories you know. That girl still oh so stubbornly insists that she can't get rid of them 'just like that'. Even if it's a little silly, we all have our little rituals." Earlier, Persephone's attempt at reading the object history through Candy's magical copy seems to work more or less fine, adding only one extra step each of Candy doing the copyping and original discovering, and a slight fuzziness of detail.
Lilian Rook	The Lilian she sees is a little older than expected, but still certainly too skinny for how young she is, bundled up in what can only be called 'a blob' of fuzzy pajamas, testifying along with her tangled hair, slightly beyond her shoulders, that she must be fresh out of that rumpled bed; a blanketed ocean for a child of her size. The thicker curtains are pulled back, allowing moonlight to glow faintly through the panoramic windows out to the balcony. She hasn't lit anything indoors, despite the visual enterprise. Persephone somehow knows that 'the light has to be blue, or else I won't get the red right' Dead silence like this is unnerving. She knows for a fact there was a whole forest outside --the sea, too, actually-- but she can't hear a single chirp or rustle or wave here, just the leaden ticking of an analogue clock somewhere in the dark. It's the backdrop to the frantic scractching of a dozen different drawing implements against a page and their clatter back onto the hardwood, as little Lilian has simply snatched the utensils from a dresser drawer and flopped onto the floor to scribble as quickly as possible, before she might forget. She is drawing left handed, because her right hand appears badly burned in static grain patterns that Persephone has seen before. A little smear of blood has been wiped away from her lip and onto her pajama sleeve, speckling the pillow behind her. She knows they'll think I bit myself screaming, even though I didn't. The whole thing is just ten or twelve minutes of unnerving scratching and wild-eyed muttering, without another sound; not even a creak or groan from the old house. Only when Lilian stands up, stares at the drawing, and mutters "I'm not going with you. Not like this. I won't let you make me this way forever. I need my words. Don't come back until I've used them all up.", throwing it carelessly on a desk and climbing back into bed (flipping the pillow bloody side down), can Persephone catch the dull sound of distant waves.
Lilian Rook	In the present, Cecilia glimpses inside the little white paper bag, and then presses one hand over her collarbone and cups one around her lower face, holding her breath as if politely making double sure she isn't just about to cry. "Oh those three . . . I'll have to think of something special for next time." Cecilia smiles. "I wonder if she'll think they match, if I wear it on the same side?" She turns and thanks Persephone silently for this one, given her role as the courier and all. She then chews her lip in a faintly unprofessional way, working on words. "Oh, please don't worry about it. I'd planned to use this day for something like this either way. All the affairs are sorted ahead of time. The master and mistress won't be back for another day or two, and all of the staff are behind me today. They care a great deal about the young lady in their collective care as well. And . . ." "Well, I won't even pretend to be able to imagine what the two of you have spoken of. But, even under the circumstances, please forgive me for some of the terribly rude things I said to you when we first met, unbeknownst to me. If you'll reject all other reasons, then if for no other reason, simply out of professional grace. I never quite said it properly before, the circumstances being what they were. I do hope that girlf forgives me for this as easily as she's forgiven you for all of that." Candy has tangible answers for Cecilia and her stack of well-worn and heavily perused journals. She flips from note to note --the magenta ones, specifically; I know I'd remember-- even while she talks, brushing up on her own immaculately neat (and slightly cramped) handwriting to make sure she doesn't miss anything. Her own photographs are scanned and printed on paper thin enough to tape to the inside pages, some simply of the drawings, some of the progressive healing of mysterious burns, some of the general state of wreckage of Lilian's sleeping space, like a crime scene investigation, as if hoping a child psychologist would divine a helpful answer from the angle of a displaced pillow. "I remember it well enough. It wasn't the only dream she had in those colours. At first, we were all quite sure he'd had nightmares from her brother telling her too many stories when she asked. You know, about 'that time'. Telling a little girl about all those terrible sights and monsters, honestly, what was he thinking? But those only bothered her a little bit. It'd always be dreams about London, specifically; she'd never been, only seen it in books, but she could draw it. She . . ." "Please believe me when I tell you that I really have consulted with every expert I was able to get my hands on, and I pray that you don't take this as strange or dismissive of me to describe it so plainly. But the common theme was that . . . she believed that there was a place in the sky there, that she was going to go to, and never come back; not Heaven; actually, she hated it terribly when you suggested she might be misinterpreting a 'sign'."
Candy	Candy, eating one of Persephone's cookies, wipes his mouth with his forearm. "Cake? I like cake," he says hopefully, glancing over at Tamamo and Xion. Cecilia's remark about the weather gets a sunny smile from him. "Well, Morelos stays cooler than most, on account of the mountains. But it's the people, if you ask me," he says, looking warmly around the room. "I got lots of reasons to smile just in this room, you know?" Candy doesn't say anything to dispute that 'the master and mistress' care for Lilian. He even manages to resist rolling his eyes, instead busying himself with a sip of champurrado. They got a funny way of showing it sometimes. "Right," says Candy, nodding along with Cecelia's explanation. "No, I believe you every bit, Ms. Cecelia. Nobody with eyes that steps foot inside that house could ever think you don't love that girl and want the best for her." "Does that answer it a little bit, Xion? Why we're here? I feel like this thing," says Candy, frowning, pointing at the copy of the picture as Phony pores over it, "It might still be out there, waiting for the chance to come and take her to that place." He knows Phony well enough to know that she gets engrossed in things, sometimes--even if he doesn't understand what she's actually doing when she does it. "Anything, Phony?" And then, there's Tamamo--"Does that 'place in the sky' ring any bells for you, Tamamo?"
Tamamo	"Oh, no, Xion," Tamamo says, "these are quite different, I should think -- ah, one moment." Turning briefly to Cecilia, Tamamo explains, "She is quite uncommonly experienced in seeing through to the heart of sweets, you see, and I thought of asking her aid, being only a student in these arts, myself. It can be quite enlightening. Ah, but to have such a tradition does sound quite nice, and Lilian would be welcome to join us. No, I shall insist on it, should the timing seem convenient. There was also another matter, on which I thought to ask Mr. Roxas... however, that shall be put aside, until then." Back to Xion, "There is the matter of cakes, and there is the matter of a nightmare of Lilian's, that Mr. Candelario has discovered, and about which he wishes to accomplish something, for Lilian's sake. It may very well help others, if it is of as much import as I suspect, but to deal with the subject of this nightmare, as shown in the drawing, is the chief concern of this moment. As to what we may do, I am not yet certain." Cecilia then confirms that it is London. "Ah, that place, and that deep-struck tree. It was concerning what we saw there, after all." Tamamo then tilts her head, thinking. "However, that was struck into the ground, and it was that 'something else' that was pushed through the sky. She spoke of the lower point as the one that drew her, and not the thing above it, before." Does that 'place in the sky' ring any bells for you, Tamamo? "This was not my story, but one told to me, and only the once, as I recall, but was it not that a terrible creature, one that could not be slain, did descend upon London, and was forced through a tear that continues to sit in the sky? It may be that such a thing does seek to return, and..." She trails off. "Ms. Cecilia, would you remind me, when was it that these events occurred, in London?"
Persephone Kore	No waves or chirping, because time is hers. Hahaha, even back then- you picked this up a lot younger than I did, Lily-R. "Yeah. I got something, Candy. Give me just a second..." Even though she's looking at a recreation, and not the original, Persephone pulls out her phone and finds a picture of something blue, enlarging it until the color engulfs the whole screen. She holds the phone's screen as close as possible to the paper, bathing the drawing in blue light while trying to block out the sunlight from the window with her arm. This is how it would've looked to you, right? Maybe... Regardless, she straightens up soon enough to meet Cecilia's teary look with a terribly warm eyes-shut smile. "Don't be too hasty! The other wrist might end up taken, too. I've got a gift for you, but it can wait until all this is done." Her mouth is just opening to wave off Cecilia's apology when Cecilia anticipates that too, shutting her up with a little guilty laugh. "For professional grace," she repeats, like the words are foreign to her. "Haha, then of course I forgive you. Even if I feel strange saying it! And Lilian, I think, has a good habit of forgiving people for doing things that are meant to help." Her hands wrap around a cup of champurrado as if to warm themselves by its heat. She takes a dainty sip- now tolerating the taste quite well, in small doses- and nods along with Cecilia's explanation. "I think she was making those drawings not 'to be seen', but 'to get something out'. Like it would leave her alone if she could put it to paper. But because it wasn't something of this world, she never quite could. Does that sound right?" Her lips tense into something more neutral. "Right. That glowing hole in the sky, above London... it did almost remind me of those colors, too. I was going to ask."
Lilian Rook	"A student? My, even though I can imagine what you've meant, the word still hardly seems fitting." Cecilia says to Tamamo. "Try as I might, I can't seem to picture you as anything other than a master all things domestic." There . . . it vaguely feels like there's an implicit wink in there somewhere. It slips off as the topic moves. "Yes, Mister Estevez left me a rather charged picture and message in my personal things. In the midst of being a rascal, mind you. I suppose that he must have had a change of heart after rifling through my things. It's sat on my desk, along with his number --by the way, how does that work?-- for a goodly two months now, but I couldn't simply ignore 'Help me, help her' for so long." She smiles thinly at him. "It was a very nice thought." Cecilia studies Tamamo's face with the air of someone who wouldn't mind just staring at it for aesthetic's sake, but who has the very grave duty to understand everything she can about it, at the moment. "A tree? Do you mean the one outdoors? Ah, there've been a strange crop of hydrangeas coming up under it lately; I had wondered what those were about. I like them though, and Lilian swears up and down it 'enjoys the company', so I've been of mind to leave them alone." Her lips purse and her eyes drift downward, but Cecilia answers Tamamo's question automatically. "Thirty six years, one month, twelve days." she sighs. "A long time before Lilian was even born. But I haven't seen London in even longer. It's . . . well, I've rather given up hope on ever seeing it in the way I remember it. Even if Lilian is sweet enough to promise. If you think it has something to do with 'the M word', well . . . maybe anything is possible. But I hope not." The warmth returns when Candy reassures her. "You have a certain way about you that makes me believe that, Mister Estevez. Even if you are a rogue and a scoundrel. That way of stating the truth as romantic fiction nobody should believe, it's like an opposite to . . . ah, but if that girl were only blessed with better experiences with men, perhaps she'd see it the same way."
Candy	Candy flushes slightly at the accusation of being a rascal. "Guilty," he sheepishly offers. "Well, I don't actually know how you reached me. I mean, I know my number! But that's only ten numbers. All the extra ones you put in, I had to ask a friend for help with," he admits, rubbing the back of his head. Smiling softly, he stops in his pacing to add: "Sorry if I scared you. And thanks for saying all that nice stuff about me." He clears his throat--the scoundrel is not accustomed to praise from other people's parents. Just the opposite! "I wasn't sure before, Ms. Tamamo. But now, I am." There's a certainty in his eyes, and his chest puffs out. "If Lilian was drawing London, smashed to shit--if that thing in the tear above London is the same one that she was trying to get out of her head..." He nods once, turning the words over in his head. "Then I know what we gotta do, and I don't gotta know how, 'cause my friends will," he says simply. "Xion can lock and unlock things and feel hearts. Tamamo, you can keep us in ship shape, plus pick out a place and set up shop so nobody gets in scot-free without you okaying it. And Phony, she's... real hard to argue with," he eventually settles, smiling contently and finishing his drink. "And if something comes up one of you guys can't fix, I got some really handy other friends." Phony might know the friends he means. She can definitely hear the sibilant advice of one of them. The Turquoisssse Mandate, boy. Bring it along. Better to have it and not need it. He doesn't visibly acknowledge (he's good at that) but does finally manage to sit down, having, to this point, been pacing. The chair creaks a welcome as he gets comfortable. "All that, to me, sounds like a way for us to get to this thing, if it's still up there, and make it understand this shit's gotta stop, scary sword or no." After a pause, he adds, "I even got something up my sleeve, kind of like that sword--but I wanna try it the nice way first. With something like this... so different from us, you wonder if it even knows what it's doing, ah?" His brow knits thoughtfully as he drums his fingers on the kitchen table.
Xion	There is another round of explanations to Xion's sugar-fed and sweets-sated lack of understanding, the smooth brain of the Quest Text Enjoyer needing it gone over at least a few times before she gets it without a clear hook to follow. Lilian is having problems, yes, weird dreams, yes, and then. . . Xion diverts her attention rapidly between trying to follow the thread as it bounces between Cecilia, Candy, and back, and Tamamo's sweets. "Oh, no, really, I'm more of an -enjoyer- than any kind of sweets whisperer. I've worked in coffee shops, espresso bars, and all sorts of little pop-up cafes, because I really like pastries and people. So, there's a lot of shop perks you enjoy. And brunch, too. Now, if you're asking me if I make a decent egg, now, yes: I do make great omlettes. Eggs make basically everything better, really." London, the conversation throbs. Xion thinks about omlettes. London, it repeats, and Xion has the distinct feeling she knows the answer. London, is the conclusion. "So...we're going back, to go farther? We can, we went, a bunch of us. Phony walked down into that universe the pin made, and there was a tree. We can keep going, but I don't know if we're supposed to." Xion looks up, at Cecilia, Candy, Phony, Tamamo. "Isn't Heaven the place you go to become something completely different, forever?"
Lilian Rook	When Phony hovers the blue light over the page . . . well, nothing especially mystical happens --it is just crayon on paper after all-- but she can get an idea of what Lilian was trying to do. In certain spots, where the shades cross into each other in just the right way, the messy nebula of crimson and scarlet and ruby and magenta and fucshia takes on a colour eerily similar to one that Phony had ever seen around Lilian herself. The bright parts of the image bleed together with the dark parts at their edges, a deeply dark, blacklight sort of purple emerging that overflows into an impossibly vivid red-pink-violet. Something might come to mind about 'violet' being a fake colour --a trick of the human eye-- and the way IR and UV light border the visible spectrum. An earnest attempt at rendering 'a way of seeing' that humans don't have into colours that humans know. By a ten year old. Cecilia sighs, half-tired, half-relieved, and an extra half-nostalgic. "That's what the experts thought as well. The 'pattern of behaviour' matched with a compulsion, and not anything related to attention or socialization, easy as that would be to believe. Supposedly, it's the sort of thing that strikes you as an obsession only because you can't quite figure it out. Like something on the tip of your tongue. So, you try and try again, to render it in some way, visual, verbal, however, until it satisfies you that you fully understand it and know what it is. Have you ever read backwards and gone over a sentence a few times in a book, even though you got it the first time? Or revisited a particular moment in a motion picture in your head, because it made you feel things you wanted to examine more? That's how it was explained to me." Cecilia looks back to Xion as she asks that rather innocent question, and then stares at the poor Nobody for a little while as if she doesn't quite have the heart to repeat Lilian's own words, or the faith to repeat the things she used to say to her. There's been no use praying for thirty six years, after all. So she settles. "That's true, Miss Xion. And it's supposed to be a very good place, where you become something happy and free. But Lilian objected very strongly. She . . . said that she could tell the difference. Because Heaven is a place that God made, and going there would be changing into something that God decided, and she couldn't believe she would be happy that way. But this . . . other place, was somewhere she was afraid of because she said she would be alone, or that she wouldn't know anybody. And that she was afraid of what she would be if she got to decide instead." "That girl . . . Well, I said it once before. She'd rather deny she was ever playing than settle for second place. I remember something that helped. I told her to make a list of all the things she wanted to do when she grew up, all the ways she wanted to be that would make her happy, and then said that once she had done and been all of those, she should go and see for herself. Of course, I didn't really believe it was that literal, but she calmed down a great deal once she thought of it as 'a matter of time' rather than 'a forced choice'."
Lilian Rook	Cecilia turns her attention back to Candy, when the subject of the mysterious entity comes back up."That creature . . . her role --Lilian always referred to it in the feminine, Lord knows why-- was to come and take her there. Little Lilian always said it knew where she was, but that it couldn't get to her. That it was . . . stuck, or blocked, and always trying to find another way to reach her, like 'dead ends in a maze'. I asked her what she thought she had to fear from her, and she'd say that she was going to . . . take everything away, so that she couldn't escape, and wouldn't want to come back." "And by everything, I mean very strange things. She said that she would lose the power of speech, or understanding; that she would never be able to speak to us again. And that she would lose her shape and physicality, and never have the one she wanted, never touch anyone in a loving way like from her books. Even her . . . ability to care about us. Her memory of it all. And she was always very frightened that she might want that, sometimes, even a little bit." "Lilian went down into the Reliquary on her own, after a while. Lady Aobheil keeps all but a few away from it, so we were all very worried, and surprised, that she got there, and even moreso that the Lady would open one of the vaults for her, and let her have that sword. Bryce wanted nothing to do with it. He saw it as an ill omen, and wanted it sealed again. But, well, you know how difficult it is to take anything away from that girl . . ." Cecilia's smile is weak and difficult. "I rather appreciated it, even given all the 'spooky' things that would happen around then. Anything that has ever had to fear that weapon has never been good news, after all. But to completely tell you everything I know, even little Lilian insisted that it wasn't 'afraid'. But that having it with her made it 'wait'. She compared it to a 'hall pass'. As if she were 'allowed to stay here' for a while." Cecilia makes a little forlornly worried noise at all the talk about going back to London. "If I have any theories, it'd have to be something to do with London as well, but I do most insistently beg that you not try anything beyond your means. I tried treating the whole thing as a particular childhood trauma, with some expert advice, and it seemed to have . . . done the trick, at least. All the urgency went out of it. I'm sure she barely remembers by now. But . . ." "The other experts I asked, I'm afraid, are quite flummoxed. It seems obvious, no? That it'd be the work of one of 'those monsters'. But she'd never once seen one, or even left the house, and born after their time to begin with. How could it be?"
Tamamo	I can't seem to picture you as anything other than a master all things domestic. "Oh, but there is so much to learn, no? I believe I shall need quite a few more years to claim such a thing, as kind as you are to say it." Apart from the lack of a sense of false modesty, there's a just-noticeable stress on the need for 'years,' whatever that might mean. A tree? Do you mean the one outdoors? "Ah, no, I meant the one in London, though it had been others who called it a 'tree,' and I would have not found the word fitting, perhaps, myself. It was something they had left there, and I hope it to have little relation to what we must now do, though that hope is wan." After a moment, "Hydrangeas, did you say? Well, it is nice to hear she has been caring for them. I shall have a look when I return, perhaps, as I may have not passed by." Eggs make basically everything better, really. "I have increasingly found them to be quite useful, and ever they were. Still, whether you are a purveyor of kitchen secrets, or no, I would not mind your company." Isn't Heaven the place you go to become something completely different, forever? "The Heavens of my familiarity are ones to which none are permitted entry." She pauses. "This may be of that sort, as well."
Persephone Kore	Phony laughs in response to Candy's praise. It never feels cut off or repressed; more like there's a laughter always inside her, and sometimes it just overflows. "Nobody's ever called me 'hard to argue with', you know," she says warmly. "Mostly because nobody ever tries to argue." "It does scare me, the idea of going back down there." The soft emphasis on 'does' underscores how unusual that is. "We belong to this place. And it's a different place. Doesn't it feel to you like we might unravel there, into something else? Like Lilian believes it wants to do to her." A little nod to Xion: "And, besides, it feels a little like trespassing. Not just that we aren't meant to be there, but that it isn't meant for us. Does that difference make sense?" Her hand rests on her cheek as Cecilia further explains. Despite her look of solemn sympathy, a faint smile crosses her face at "'a matter of time' rather than 'a forced choice'" for some reason. "Candy... there's some things you don't want to want. But you can't stop yourself wanting them, anyway, because not wanting them anymore would mean being someone other than yourself. She didn't like this at all. It made her unhappy. But..." Her gaze turns back to Cecilia. "It sounds like she wasn't scared of that hole in the sky, so much as scared she couldn't have both this and that. Scared that she'd have to leave behind everything she was, to answer that call. And you made her happier, not by telling her she could stay here forever, but by telling her that she could have both; that she didn't have to make that choice after all." "Do you think she wants it to stop calling her? I think I'd be sad if I were her. Relieved, but sad." She takes a crumbly homemade raisin-oatmeal cookie for herself while waiting on an answer, and then slides the box over to Tamamo with a big oblivious smile.
Tamamo	"Mr. Candelario," Tamamo begins, and then says, evoking the illusion of speaking softly, conspiratorially into one's ear by tone alone, "Candy. Did you know -- and this occurs quite often, I fear -- that there are those brave souls who wish to do great things, and form their plans and account for all their strengths and how they may best be used, and how their weaknesses shall be mitigated or avoided, and they set out with all these things in mind, their families in good spirits, their guardian deities wakeful. And then, to the last, they die." Leaning back into her seat once more, having come close at some point, Tamamo continues, "You speak of preserving life and health, as if this is a thing within my power to guarantee. And oh, it may be, but only for those who never tempt death half so clearly as we would, here. It is not that I know this to be beyond our power, but that I do not know what should be beyond that door. I cannot say I have never told a little, white lie, but I should not like to promise those things I cannot know whether I may accomplish." With the air of one who's had to deal with some unreasonably energetic children for just a bit too long, "And I should be the greatest of hypocrites were I to do such a thing as seek out to hunt that which that world's combined might could do no more than push aside, into its own lair, without knowing either what curses it employs or how they might be negated, placing myself at such risk, without Lilian's knowledge."
Candy	"Oh... so it's like that." Candy sinks in the chair, shaking his head. "Well, now you put it that way, Ms. Cecelia, I can't help thinking maybe Xion's right. Well--I hate words like 'supposed to.' Big surprise, right?" He heaves a sigh, unable to take his eyes off the scratches in the table. "...but, when you talk about it like it's some place she might go to and not come back... it isn't Heaven, but it's 'a place you go to, After.' It's just that with this, she gets to pick when." "I don't like to think about that kind of After. Picking, or not. A lotta people I really liked have left, or else they got the boot, and either way, they ain't coming back. You know?" He pulls his eyes away from the table to glance out the window at the front yard. "I know it's not something most people got any say over. I know it's not even 'the same.' But fuck if we ain't talking about it the same way, ah?" Candy fidgets with the edge of the table, thumb tracing along a scratch for which only he (or Phony, for her previous reading) knows the story. And she certainly knows, by now, what's driving this. It's that thinking about her going away right when we all became friends makes me scared and sad, even if it might be a long time from now. "You're right, too, you know," he says aloud to Phony. "Suppose she wanted to, and it was gone, and she didn't have the chance to be them other ways. I don't know her as good as I wanna. I don't know what other ways those'd be, past what you just told us. But me, I think that, yeah. It might make her a little sad, if all the time in the world was hers, but the door was closed by the time she thought to open it." He is quiet, then, listening to Tamamo's answer. All this time I was worried something was after her, and maybe it is. But she's not trying to hurt Lilian. I got all of these nice people worried just 'cause I was worried. "Yeah... yeah. I'm sorry, Ms. Tamamo, Xion, Phony. Ms. Cecelia. I thought this was, ah... something it wasn't. But, you know... even being wrong, I called you guys out here 'cause I know you all really like Lilian, too. Maybe we don't go charging up into red-fuck-offity-land. But since we're here..." More of those funny little papers with a long string of numbers on them appear, one for each of Candy's guests. "How about we keep in touch, and if there's something one of us can think of that'll put a smile on her face--a surprise party, a trip somewhere, a little something--" He manages to smile at Cecelia and Tamamo, "Something she ain't got to do or see yet..." "Maybe we set up a party line then and do some planning."
Xion	Xion understands Persephone completely, reflecting back with a tapping together of her fingers. "Yes. There's many ways it's not good. All the way to. . . if you and I and Tamamo and Candy all go to Heaven and force it to be kind to us by arriving, we'll have imposed just by our passage, and made that place something it isn't, won't be, shouldn't be, can't be without hurting." Pointing at the cieling with a casual, cocked elbow and a gloved hand, Xion shrugs. "But don't worry." She ceases to exist at her spot and snaps back into reality in a haze of static hugging Candy from behind, leaning down from a standing position. "You cared enough to think up a really important thing. And we thought about it, and had sweets, and spent time with each other, like Tamamo said, and thought about more ways to help Lilian." Lifting up, Xion's hands drift up to brace fingers on Candy's shoulders. "And I'm absolutely certain you should still rob that bank. Cecilia, do you want to rob a bank with Lilian? It'll be fun, and robbing banks is always morally correct." Her smile is a radiant thing. Especially about violence against accumulatory capital.
Lilian Rook	Cecilia looks at Tamamo a little bit helplessly. It doesn't take a mind-reader to guess why. "Ah. Well, I'm sure I'll simply have to believe you, won't I?" There is a long, awkward pause. One where even the consummate head maid figdgets with fistfuls of her skirts. Where she thinks about if it would really be forgivable to ask them that, if they do go back there, even if they shouldn't, they could . . . Her eyes slide over to Persephone. She bites her lip. "They're quite nice. Perhaps you two should take an evening in the garden? Or the woods at least." Cecilia says to Tamamo. She even smiles. "Even I wouldn't dare to say that I know exactly what could have gone on in that girl's head. I barely even know now, Miss Kore. I do think she has become much happier here. It would neither be fair to herself, nor those others here, to test that." Cecilia's smile becomes a tiny bit wry and strange when Candy says the words. "All the time . . . Aha, it's been a little while since I've heard that. You really are a surprisingly thoughtful man, Mister Estevez." And she glances back to Phony. "Well, I shan't ask what it is that you . . . brought back. What she has now. But I might've answered differently, only a month ago, had she not. Now . . . perhaps you may be right. She is a grown woman, after all. Not a frightened child. It may be that she might have something to say, or some question to ask, should it happen again." She takes the number (and a cookie) with the last of her drink, and considers Xion. "I don't think anything bad can come of people like you trying your very best to help that girl. But I think perhaps there really is a line where it aughtn't to be considered help if she doesn't have a choice. She's had too many of those stolen away. I'm really, truly happy that you understand that. I'm sure that if you all keep thinking on it, something good will happen." A nervous little laugh follows. "I think I might be a little too old for all the excitement of a bank heist, though. You young people should have your fun with others your own age."