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Lilian Rook	Given the sounds of things --that is to say, the last radio chapter intercepted before NAZCA's retreat-- there isn't much time left to keep control over this situation. This is a problem, because that's exactly what you need most, and even Lilian doesn't have a lot of spare to lend. There simply isn't any opportunity to run back to civilization; not even the FOB, which is now swarming with activity that is definitively worth avoiding after the camp was already infiltrated once. The window where they have yet to realize one of their VTOLs is missing is a precious one.     There's a short period of time to confirm the (probable) deaths of multiple enemy operatives, scrape up whatever equipment or intel might be intact after the means used against them, throw the sole unconscious agent in the back of something, and catch a ride immediately. At this distance from the FOB, Arthur is able to use gates again, but as always, he has to contend with the overlaid and riveted spaces of the terraformed valleys and the mountains of Terra, and so there isn't much choice to cross a whole mountain range but to use that VTOL of Bond's (and possibly the Kana) to hop between visible distance gates.     Petra may not particularly like that Lilian is using the fresh corpses to mark down concealment runes on the hull of her big stompy mech as well, nor recruiting Tamamo to plaster both vehicles with blessings, but she is fully confident she can ask 'literally anyone' to hold her face in the snow if she causes a scene.     It's still a ride that takes nearly to the hours of dawn. One fraught with strange, otherworldly lights that follow at distance, noises that croon and buzz and resonate from below, and the occasional avalanche or vast tract of shifting shadow seen from afar. One more time, a chosen star shines bright, and a chunk of mountainside is turned to geometry. The steady pulse of the lighthouse chain varies as you go, but is no more comprehensible than it was before. You have no way of knowing how far NAZCA is on foot (if they even are).     It is no more comprehensible than the fact that the journey terminates so far north that the snow and ice goes all the way down the mountainside, but from above, just one mountainside, facing the west, is completely free of it, all the way from peak to foothills to even the valley adjoining. Down there, too, instead of dark and impenetrable alien land, there is forest green, and the near-sunrise reflecting off of still water.     Someone particularly familiar with the region would recognize this as being a few thousand miles out of the way; it resembles, very clearly, a chunk of the southern Siberian rainforest. Someone staring at enough sensor readouts will see that, against every reasonable chance, there are not just heat signatures down there, but electrical readings, dense radar-reflective construction, and enough noise to amplify and hear up high. The craft are passively subject to other sensors, in fact, though much more primitive.     Heat radiating from a half-kept tarmac lot and electric lamps switching off as the daylight arrives. Motion down by the edge of the lake, with wooden boats and powered water pumps. With lower elevation, winding paths come into view, servicing an astonishing number of what look like both permanent houses and winter tents on the mountainside. Near the peak, where a lighthouse should be placed as the last start in the constellation, there is instead an entire building the size of a small school, choked in jungle growth.
Ishirou	Ishirou attempts to convince Petra to not give Lilian trouble about the various things she needs to do and use the mech for it.  He even goes into an in-depth explanation of these things, and why they're important because he seems to have more patience to do so.  Also...he really doesn't want to see someone smother Petra in the snow.  She's not bad, just...well sometimes...something.   Success or failure on that, he keeps on the move.  He attempts to keep forward of the group, sticking high and not investigating anything on his own.  Instead, he scans and provides information back to the team.  He looks for whatever signs of the NAZCA's special team he can, if any, but also looks for anything that might give them a clue as to who they're looking for. Ishirou forwards the sensor readouts back to the group.  The heat and electrical sensors, radar-reflective constructions...so this place wanted to remain as hidden as possible.  Not just from the monsters, but this was strictly keeping themselves hidden from the prying eyes of outsiders.  That much seems obvious...so this is where she might be held, or it was a red herring.  Well, if NAZCA was drawn here too, then it'd be good for them even if they were misled. Ishirou starts studying the area itself.  Looking for places where NAZCA would likely come in, how to best make their lives difficult, and to better remove their strengths so a fight like the last one wouldn't have to be won by just the skin on their ass. Also, Ishirou didn't want a new smile.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Keep up the gates, let's meet a new Mother     Arthur thinks back to the Mother of Monsters. That thing was held back only by its deep and intense urge to assist an ancient prophecy. He couldn't imagine something in the mom class of ancient all-powerful beings to be any less powerful, so he was full of a kind of anxious terror about the gravesite of one. >Arthur: Oh, and hold Petra's face in the snow if Lilian asks     What's that saying? 'Never wrestle with a girl because you both start crying and the girl likes it?' No, that can't be right. Anyway, he'll give her backup with a snowball or something if it comes to it. He doesn't have spherekind abstratus but snowball-launching is a kind of gray area.     No, instead he's focused on making gate relays to cut the time down from days to hours, though it might be a little nausea-inducing to go through so many portals. "SHIT, if I were a BLOOM I guess I'd go where it isn't so FUCKED UP CHILLYFROST all the damn time too." He rambles as they get to the forest-green end of things. Is this where the archer was signaling to? Is there something here? He sees a tarmac lot and it looks maintained. He sees motion at the lake-edge. He sees a lighthouse.     "FUCK," He wonders aloud. "Did we just take the LONG WAY up to some OTHER REGION'S goddamn MINI ARX ZENITH type of place?!" He rambles, astounded. He checks the local "feel" of the magical atmosphere as they descend, hardly able to think of where to go first. Probably that building! >Arthur: Head to the end of the constellation!     Hey, he's a space guy, and that looks important. Best place to go!
James Bond	Bond doesn't so much 'wait' as 'endure,' when it comes to the time taken for Tamamo's blessings, Lilian's concealment runes and Arthur's gates. The VTOL craft is kept warm, while the would-be pilot works on a cigarette in silence. The very moment he's able, he quickly climbs back into the cockpit, careful not to disturb markings or talismans on his way in. The cigarette is snuffed on the back of his hand, butt sealed in a plastic film canister he'd meant to use for evidence of note.      The journey is 'endured,' too. Where heads-up displays and instruments falter, he uses the expanse of land below as guide him, and does his best to ignore the dancing lights and noises both. At the tail end, crossing over the greenery, his hands tense on the sticks.      Warnings and notifications pop up on the craft's intuitive screen display, notifying him of the incoming scans. Nothing too sophisticated, but enough to press uncomfortably against training. ...but if they were going to shoot, they'd have done it by now.      Maintaining his current altitude, Bond zooms in on the screen, attempting to get a better look at some of the sources of movement, intending to see a little more about who's manning this place. Once he can confirm his gut instinct--that there's no overtly hostile intent--then he'll make a landing on that tarmac.
Tamamo	With a longer trip to look forward to, and cramp quarters in which to do it (however many can fit inside the Kana and Bond's stolen heli), Tamamo is pleased to spend her time applying various blessings to both vehicles, to better their chances of survival, safe travel, and speedy arrival, all of which are well within the sort of prayers a central kami would be expected to answer. She therefore has plenty of available charms, though she can't do much about enhancing top speed. Shortening the distance by straightening the route, and encouraging a coincidentally helpful tailwind, is about all she can manage, in that regard.     Some of the talismans do flutter in the wind, but don't worry about that.     Tamamo's not about to go and grab bodies for her own use, but she does apply a few charms to their unconscious prisoner, to encourage a relaxed, pacified, and subtly weakened state once they wake. If not entirely pliant, it will at least make it harder for them to cause trouble, if their performance-enhancing drugs are being counteracted by her own esoteric medicines.     Even in her big, fluffy coat, the actual trip is something difficult to enjoy. Having little enough space that the party may be crowded together is a help, here. The extra warmth of bodies does a little against the chill, though Tamamo insists on being with Lilian, however she rides.     Once they find their destination -- and it must be, given how it stands out, even if the constellation did not end here -- Tamamo gestures. "There, they must be present in that building, no? They have called twice upon the stars, and may yet do so again, using that peak as a stand upon which to come closer to the heavens. Shall we go there to meet them? Ah, but as for myself, I would rather the warmth of greenery. It... is warmer there, no? The snow has not reached it. How unusual, yet not unexpected."
Rita Ma	Rita doesn't particularly care for the monstrous image of riding the many-headed balaur out of combat. On the other hand, with the alert extremely raised, there's no point in returning it either.      She settles for riding in the VTOL, if Bond will have her, and directs the balaur to follow a little ways behind. Rita is too much of a good girl to smoke, so instead she fidgets restlessly with a NAZCA agent's sidearm, trying to puzzle out how much of a pain it'll be to shoot.      Liza recommended she try laser guns, once, but this isn't the same.      "It's kind of a relief to see signs of people, right?" she finally says, as the craft begins to land. "I mean, they shouldn't be here. But with everything we know, it'd be weirder if they weren't."      She disembarks when Bond does, huddled back up in her somewhat-too-big jacket.
Petra Soroka	Petra doesn't, surprisingly, complain about the artistic use of human viscera. She's quiet as she waits for the preparations to be complete, facing away, arms wrapped around herself to contain her small shivers, even though she'd just been inside the pleasantly warm cockpit. In response to Ishirou's explanation, Petra just shrugs her shoulders and keeps looking at the snow in the distance. There's no indication that she absorbed, or even heard, any of it.     Everyone who wants a ride inside the Kana is welcome. It's considerably less clean, comfortable, and comparably spacious to the VTOL, but at least it's warm. In particular, Petra looks helplessly at Rita, wordlessly inviting her to join her, assuming she doesn't hijack the balaur again.     The Kana's cockpit smoothly adjusts to the changing temperature, unnoticeably comfortable as the mech approaches the valley. The concealment runes dampen the roar of its engines, avoiding announcing their arrival to the whole village, and the Kana hangs in place while Petra scans the screens.     "It's weird to see all this green, but I guess there's no other way people could stand living out here." Her voice creaks from a few hours of disuse, and she drinks from a can of soda she had on board. There's enough cans for everyone, of course, likely to everyone's dismay.     Petra gestures at the obviously important building on the viewscreen. "Do we land there directly, or announce our presence somewhere else, first? We might come across as hostile if I bring the Kana down abruptly like that."
Cantio	Under normal circumstances, Cantio would probably be ogling the Kana. It's a big robot, and it doesn't seem to operate or even look the way she'd expect one to, so of course she'd want to poke and prod at it! Today's circumstances are anything but normal, though, so she's actually focused on sorting out what the group's managed to scrounge together from the dead operatives. At worst, it's a lot of functional equipment that might prove useful or valuable for use now or trading later. At best, it might even help them uncover something before running headlong into more NAZCA operatives. Doing inventory and identifying whatever she can is probably going to be somewhat therapeutic, anyway, especially considering the rough fight she had with NAZCA 1 some time ago. That doesn't mean she's not stealing glances at the Kana every now and then, of course. She's more focused on making sure that there's a clear count of how much actual STUFF there is after stripping gear and any fancy-looking parts off the dead agents. The unconscious one, meanwhile, still has her on edge, and she eventually raises a question while in the middle of her sorting. "Should we take off their feet?" Cantio tries to sound cold and calculating as she pitches the amputation idea, but there's still a bit of a grimace in there. "I'm confident in Tamamo's magic, but I'd like to take extra precautions in case they have other countermeasures ready like... Body jacking?" She even wiggles a smaller version of her sword for emphasis, as though she's ready to do it herself. "Is that something that can happen here...?"
Trudy Grimm	Trudy is neither a pilot nor a scanning specialist, and so the majority of the trip is spent mending her fur coat. It's a good deal simpler than using a needle and thread-- as she simply sits near the back of the Kana's cockpit space with the Eiwaz rune hovering between her hands. The weasels seem to dislike being separated, which helps, as they cluster together until the luxurious fur coat is once more whole.     Once it becomes clear she won't be needing it, however, the weasel fur coat is dropped into her shadow and the witch rises to her feet to peer over Petra's shoulder, "Hmm~... I didn't expect a region like this on our itinerary at all, but I'm not about to complain." She gestures, "The tarmac will be fine, let's set down next to mister Bond's airship."     Well, 'airship' is a bit generous, but that's the term Trudy chose for it.     As the witch disembarks, she claps her hands together, then opens them to produce a reanimated crow with full, iridescent black plumage. Lifting this up, she releases it into the sky with an order to circle over people or places of interest.     She might also be enjoying the fresh air after the interior of the Kana.
Lilian Rook	Ishirou doesn't find anything further in the way of signs of NAZCA's presence. This isn't saying much, because he had to literally walk into a fox hole before. Still, given their intercepted timetable and the terrain he charts along the way, he can probably assume that the group has until at least the evening to get everything in order, unless NAZCA possesses extremely subtle and extremely fast overland travel on the order of seeming pretty unlikely even given what he's seen so far.     "I'm not literally a flower, Lo--" Lilian begins saying to Arthur, in her best deadpan tones, upon arrival. She then glances in the direction of her hairpin, and then remembers half her whole motif and presumptively her own name. "Not a chance. Arx Zenith is inimitable. And more importantly, it's not even on this side of reality. I can guarantee you that there's no way to the Hidden Continent within five hundred miles of here. Can't you tell?" Indeed, the magical atmosphere is so transcendentally unremarkable that nothing could be further than the experiences he'd had over there.     Which is to say that, more than the ambient concentration of magic being far less than the G.D.F's FOB, there doesn't seem to be much of any sign of anyone using it. The near-inconsequential little faith ward Tamamo had found at the lighthouse wasn't an outlier or a formality, but about the height of what's here, according to any serious check.     What further strikes Bond as odd, especially given his experience with Caelton and others, is the fact that none of the sensors appear to be of a quality necessary to spike; that means nothing sensing him could realistically guide a weapon. Not even an automatic antipersonnel turret, which this world seems to take with the same blasé liberality as power poles. There aren't even walls. It feels odd, given half of what Lilian had asked for from Tamamo was blessings of 'meeting nothing on the road'.     This is also a massive problem, because just as well as Antegent could, NAZCA could simply walk right in from anywhere. Actually, it's even more hopeless as an arrangement to defend against a small number of Elite human infiltrators. There's a ton of space, a ton of concealment, a ton of cover, long sight lines, high vantages, and this time not even any snow to get tricky with. Worst of all, what Ishirou and Bond scan as activity on the ground is--     A lot of very ordinary looking people, without a strong magic signature between them. The craft come over the mountain just in time to see a small party returning from the icy adjacent peak, clad in furs like the dead man they'd first stumbled upon, but the people on the lake aren't even dressed for spring, never mind winter. Weather readouts show the temperature climb to nineteen centigrade closer to ground, and the place looks like it.     Traditionally made wooden kayaks and long fishing boats drift out on a suspiciously circular and surprisingly deep blue lake, crewed by men in partial states of sailing undress. Sun-tanned children play around in the shallows, supervised by their mothers in loose summer dresses. The mid 20th century pumps on one side take water up to tiered fields of twenty different kinds of greenery, tended to by an eclectic mix of farmers, some wielding hoes and scythes, yet others driving wheeled machinery that looks as if it's been repaired a hundred times before, with faded and peeling paint of a suspicious snow white.
Lilian Rook	Brick and stone and wood make small, breathable homesteads, with slanted rainproofed roofs, but power cables run everywhere, strung along the scaffolding of fences lining the paths. The same peeling white paint is visible on other, larger buildings, higher up. Buildings with metal walls and old solar panels and a power tower seemingly manually cleared of vegetation. Simple steel pipes run past what look suspiciously like the mossy remains of heaped sandbags. Some of those buildings gush steam or smoke not of wooden origin. Another has a yard of drills planted in the ground. A cave midway up the mountain is festooned with patchwork stairs and elevators.     Looking at everything altogether, there's a cute little lake and a cute little stream and cute little farms and a cute little mine and a cute little gas well and all these cute little houses arranged in a cute little rainforest with cute little edible animals, all geographically five feet from each other. Like a grade school textbook diagram. The mythical desert jungle grassland mountain glacier volcano island. The longer you look at it, the more unsettlingly juvenile it seems. The funny little package of forested square mileage seems to have everything anywhere from five to fifteen thousand people could want. And no walls.     It's not that dissimilar to the Dragon's Garden, actually. But somewhere completely ordinary.     "I didn't take you for a foot freak." Lilian says to Cantio. "You think he couldn't kill you without them? The problem isn't him running away. The problem is his friends coming here. Did you forget?" She looks to the captive crammed in the back of the cargo hold of the VTOL with evident stress. "Who knows. It's the Letter Agency. I wouldn't be surprised if he started bleeding from the palms and turning water into wine." she says. "Ishirou has had plenty of time to disable his comms and sensors. We've disarmed what he had left. The stims are neutralized. Tamamo is handling the rest. And he won't be dumb enough to run into the mountains unarmed and get killed. It's just a shame that armour didn't fit Bond."     Who knows if she left the gun with Rita on purpose or not. It has an awful, leaden weight in her tiny grip, remaining abyssally cold no matter how long she warms it in her hands. It looks ever so simple to operate, though she can't read its markings. It just might bother her that, no matter how long she stares at it, she won't be able to figure out what that glowing violet 'fuel rod' actually is. She'll end up even less sure it's actually solid by the end of the trip than the start. It reminds her a lot of staring up at the stars from the deck at night, both in light and in unease.     It's a pretty good thing Bond fed the balauri not long ago, because her balaur seems currently uninterested in the jungle, though she can smell large animals and the dim and unappetizing traces of old hunts.
Tamamo	"They had said that none lived here, and yet... I wonder if those mysterious ones who walked back to the city had come from this place. Such is not possible, is it? Had they reached this place, they would not wish to take the long journey back. Those that frightened the soldiers of the city as of tales of ghosts were of some other source, I suspect." Tamamo is looking at the children playing, and mothers in summer dresses.     "I would wish to go and meet them, to be certain. Shall we, Lilian? I can only wonder as to what sort of leader, whether the ones who planned this place or the ones who guard it, shall meet us."
James Bond	Bond isn't an expert in the occult, or even an amateur. What he does have experience with is fighting Antegent. If most of the blessings Lilian had asked for were to keep from 'meeting something...' Then 'the road' is either full of Antegents or something hostile enough that it's not much different. It'd be nice to count on help from them, intentional or otherwsie. But I won't hold my breath. NAZCA does their homework.      The cockpit slides open, the engines cool down, and Bond climbs out as the canopy slides back in place. "It is," agrees Bond. "Especially when they're not the sort to shoot you out of the sky." He glances towards the many-headed balaur. "Will your friends be alright on their own? I'm afraid I didn't bring anything in the way of snacks, and they've got quite an appetite."      His brow furrows in concern, as he takes a look around. The lack of sophistication present in the scanning equipment precludes automated defenses. Are there even any man-powered defenses here? Gun emplacements, watchtowers?      "We should find whoever's in charge of keeping this place safe as soon as possible." He nods towards the school-sized building. "Someone in there, maybe," concludes Bond, before heading in that direction himself.
Petra Soroka	Petra runs through a series of assumptions in her head. The village does not seem to have any defenses, not obvious ones. But, of course, it couldn't exist out here without being defended in some way, and those defenses--maybe solely the Archer--have to be so effective that no hostile force ever gets close. And, demonstrably, the Kana and VTOL have gotten close.     So it's probably a good bet that their presence here is known already, and being tolerated, right?     Petra steers the Kana into position over the tarmac, then, with an awkward glance at her riding companions, turns on auto-pilot to land smoothly. The mech touches down with the sound of scraping metal and whirring machinery, much quieter than usual, something that likely isn't solely attributed to the runes.     Before disembarking, Petra turns to look at everyone else. "This place looks like it's intentionally designed, right? So either there's multiple people with that level of power here, or there's one person capable of both creating *and* defending this whole village." Realizing that she's holding everyone else up, she blushes and ducks her head, then taps a button to open the cockpit hatch.     "Anyways. Sorry."
Cantio	"Foot...? Wait, is that a..." Cantio trails off as she levels a dull stare at Lilian, already feeling some kind of terrible internal pain at thinking too hard about what she's just been told about. She closes her eyes for several long moments as she does what she can to repress that memory, then inhales deeply before sighing. Some part of her probably died a little inside. "He'd have to try much harder than he did before, and he wasn't even successful last time. Besides, I didn't forget, and I'm not worried about him running away because of-" She just gestures around, as that speaks for itself. "If his allies had been tracking us through his position at all, then we're already taking a huge risk keeping him with us even after everything's been disarmed. If they do show up to ambush us, I'd rather not have him capable of making the ambush that much worse." Regardless, Cantio leaves the captive alone without so much as stabbing him even a little bit. Once she's finished taking stock of what they've found, meanwhile, she gets out of the VTOL to check out that strange circular lake. Instead of wading or flying out there herself, though, she sends out a boxy-headed drone to scope out the lake, floating above it and feeding visuals and sound back to Cantio through a tablet she's fished out of her case o' stuff. It's moving at a steady speed, too, and eventually heads for (what feels like) the center of the lake before diving in to see if there's anything weird below the surface that might be a concern.
Lilian Rook	There is, correctly deduced, no impediment whatsoever to landing both craft on the tarmac. The state of being exposed to the air creates an island of pinkish dawn light glowing off the recently rain-slicked asphalt, surrounded by surprisingly tall and thick trees that nearly hide the downhill river nearby. The shaded reaches nearer the forest are stacked with rectangular metal containers wrapped in surprisingly traditional leathers and treated cloth, and a few more farm(?) vehicles.     Though it'd all looked perfectly small and cozy from so high up, once you're on the ground, the appreciable size of the place starts to sink in. A bigger job than Caelton. Without a single ward or gun. Without even magic to explain the balmy temperature. Though there is one thing that stands out. When you disembark and look around the tarmac, what strikes you about the peeling and patchwork vehicles are the faded remnants of red stencil, in cyrllic. Bond and Arthur can make out most of the weather-streaked words for Global.Defense.Force.
Ishirou	Ishirou makes another pass of the area...they won't attack yet, that's something he can definitely count on.  They'll likely move in after dark, or if the army comes in and under that chaos.  The situation tactically is very hopeless without more information.  The arrow might be something, but he also notices the oddities in the land setup and the housing.   The flight unit transforms into humanoid mode as it lands near the group.  It disconnects from Ishirou and vanishes into the subspace pocket.  Ishirou himself and POD separate, revealing --boyshorts-- jorts and a black T-shirt.  His hair is a bit longer than before, and his eyes are still as blue as ever.  POD, however, has elected to float closer to Rita.   "Petra's right, the sky view of this area is very...irregular.  It's not natural at all...so yeah let's talk to people and try and see what is going on here and explain what's about to happen...assuming they don't already know," Ishirou says, and scratches the back of his head.  Ishirou also takes a closer look at anything with white, flaking paint to try and figure out what's going on with it.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Exist in a way that's smug about acknowleding the flower motif     Arthur leans over enough to grin at Lilian, from across the boundary of a dialogue split-screen. >Arthur: Alright, enough of that. Find Oreshnika     "Alright, let's jam. Touch me down, I wanna talk some talk." He hops out of the VTOL a few too many feet before it touches down, drifting weightlessly over the mysterious words... Anyone out to greet him? Anyone out to see what's happening? Maybe not. If so, there's only one place to go. >Arthur: Get into that big building at the tip of the archer!     Whether it's swaggering into a lobby or it's just knocking hard on a door, he's gonna lead the charge in finding someone inside of that most large and important celestial building, and asking them, "Yo! Looking for Oreshnika! I gotta see a man about a tree!"
Rita Ma	After having stared at the weird gun for so long, it sort of stops feeling like a gun, the same way that a word becomes nonsensical if repeated. Distracted by the gore painted on the Kana nearby- all the more now that she can smell it more keenly- Rita only barely remembers to tuck the sidearm away in her jacket.      "I'm afraid I didn't bring anything in the way of snacks, and they've got quite an appetite."      "I'll- It'll be fine. I can tell it to go off and hunt something when it gets hungry, but it isn't right now." She glares back at it over her shoulder, and though though the command isn't verbal, anyone can tell she's telling the balaur to stay. "Thanks, Mr. Bond. You're really considerate, you know."      She walks alongside him towards the school-sized building, soaking in the sights for a few moments. "It's definitely more defended than it looks, somehow. Otherwise the army wouldn't bring so many people to fight them, right? But there's something else, too."      "Isn't it too pretty, Mr. Bond? Even in National Geographic, I've never seen anything like this. Have you?"      She absentmindedly pats POD on the 'head', too.
Lilian Rook	"Part of that wouldn't surprise me." Lilian says grimly to Tamamo. "Though I'd wonder what the point of putting up this pretense would be. And for another thing, our late friend seemed very much human enough to leave a ghost, and quite motivated to withhold all mention of this place." Something suddenly seems to occur to her. "We'll have to tell them where his . . . well, no, it won't matter." She dismounts still in armour, albeit no longer visibly armed, lacing her fingers and stretching her arms from the long ride in a way that plate should typically preclude. Popping joints sound like settling steel.     "They said those lighthouses were to communicate with here, without incoming radio noise. That man said something about 'wind-ways', but it seems unlikely anyone here walks far." Lilian says, starting to frown. "Isn't it worth noting? The Dragon's Garden was sort of untouched because of the magic beneath it. This not only is untouched, but wildly abnormal. It wouldn't happen on Earth. But I don't sense any magic at all. Do you?"     She looks to Cantio. "They already know our end destination. This place wasn't obfuscated at all, just in the middle of frozen arctic nowhere. They don't need our location. I doubt he'll be useful as a hostage, but he'll be something more useful." she says. "Proof of goodwill, and that there is a real and imminent danger to our VIP. Why should anyone believe us otherwise? Feel free to bring him along."     As could be expected, Cantio sending a drone barrelling at the lake causes children to scatter and parents to start trying to round them up. Fishermen pick up spears as it goes past, but they lose interest once it dives right down. The lake itself is a completely impossible geometric hemisphere, but grown over amply enough to host a stable ecosystem. Whether it'd be refilled by rains is a ridiculous question; one could cart snow back if they had to.     The terrain itself is completely silly, but the human beings there seem fairly normal. All she or Tamamo really notice is that practically everyone over perhaps forty has some visible form of scar or old disability.     Ishirou confirms in an instant that the machinery he's looking at is genuine G.D.F issue, but firmly obsolete. More like what he'd seen in the memorial museum than in the FOB. It's beat-up, but well-maintained. Namely, most of its repair comes from battle damage since replaced, and not wear.
James Bond	The gradual realization that the temperature has drastically changed has Bond removing his gloves and knit cap. Unzipping his heavy coat, he casts a quick glance in the direction of an aged transport, stepping over to read the emblem upon it.      "I don't see any countermeasures like..." Like Caelton. He grimaces slightly, his breathing growing more shallow as bad memories bubble up to the surface. Resting a hand upon the vehicle, he leans forward and attempts to compose himself.      There are no autocannons to turn on civilians, here. No vaguely-understood warding stones to disrupt. There must be something here I'm not seeing. But I can't shake this damned fear that those people will tear this place apart.      Rita's voice makes him realize how hard he'd been gripping the weather-streaked chassis. When his hands are off, there are divots left in the spots his fingers rested. >Isn't it too pretty? Even in National Geographic, I've never seen anything like this. Have you?      He turns to face her, nods. "Maybe," Bond says. "I met a dragon, found it where it rested and made a deal with it. Do you recall the pictures those magazines would have, sometimes, of animals that died off a long time ago?" He pauses, waiting for her answer. "It was like walking in a place where all of those animals and plants, that Earth, still existed. This place reminds me a little of that. Like a picture in a textbook that came to life."      Thinking of that place, too, draws forth complex feelings. He buries them, and gives Rita a weak smile. "Let's be on. NAZCA won't be waiting idly."      The place is bigger than it seemed, initially. But old fears and bad memories can be powerful motivators. Bond's walk is brisk--enough to convey a sense of hurriedness without betraying the quiet panic inside him. He's heading for the building that most looks like it could be a command center of some sort--praying for someone that can speak to the readiness of this place when it comes to repulsing an attack. His unzipped jacket notably still bears GDF insignias and rank indicators.
Ishirou	Ishirou pauses as he checks the equipment over.   Military, if not outdated.  The damage isn't from wear and tear, but from...use.  Actual battle damage.  Was it because they used it a lot, because they captured it from the Russian forces..?  Or both?  Something tells him that there is more here than meets the eye.   He takes a moment to do a more purposeful scan, trying to not just take a measure of things, or look for secrets, but tally up all of the various data points.  Then he references this by simulating an attacking force from the G.D.F.  He attempts to attempt to figure out how an attack could be brushed off.   During this, Ishirou pulls out the jerky, wrapped up in a plastic bag and a paper towel.  He gives her a face of 'you need this more than I do'.
Trudy Grimm	It's at this point that Trudy has a small tinge of regret for her decision to release Ai-Mökö into the hereafter. His input would no doubt be helpful here, though that ship has most certainly sailed by now.     She glances down at her hip where the Grimoire hangs off its strap; still and calm. Those eyes lift to the birds overhead. After a moment, she closes her eyes and holds her arms out to either side, taking a deep breath of fresh warm air.     "It might be strange, but it certainly is a lovely change of pace," She hums brightly to herself, a familiar tune that occasionally lends to words, "...Sovereign of the mortals, she will claim..mm..mm~..."     There are people here, after all. She can at least inquire about those who knew Ai-Mökö in life and inform them of his fate, with assurances that his body has been respected as best she could provide at the time.
Tamamo	'But I don't sense any magic at all. Do you?'     Tamamo checks. Her own magecraft is well-suited to detecting magical things. "Little, if any. We should suspect that it is as with your own case, of something so miraculous as to seem to be magical, that is, all the same, not. Of course, we suspected such to be the case. Just what form it shall take, I am not yet certain. This has a certain feeling, as of having been... perhaps, as if a design had been decided, applied with thread and ink, and so, come to exist. Do you, too, see such... purpose, in the manner this is arranged?"     Tamamo steps down, glancing up in the direction Arthur is heading, and abruptly deciding that it's probably fine to leave that to him for a minute. He can open a portal if he quickly needs someone else's presence, after all. It makes more sense for her to walk toward the houses, if only for the sake of having somewhere else to search. "Please excuse me. Might someone here kindly direct me to those occupied with this village's defense? It is an urgent matter."     She says, more quietly, to Lilian, "Sakura-chan had been reluctant to divulge anything of the other two blooms. She wished that they be left alone, to their own efforts, I think. And yet, had we done so, would this place not be attacked, whether by one force or the other? It is difficult to believe that the assembled army meant no ill, and could have been gathered only for the sake of fighting other soldiers, without even knowing where those soldiers were."     She shakes her head. "The words weigh upon me. I must believe that it is to their good, as well as yours, that we interfere. It is only that Sakura-chan has yet to see a future in which we succeed together."
Lilian Rook	Arthur's smugness is reciprocated in the way of Lilian metaphorically leaning a little further back into her portrait region in disgust, and scrolling out the words "Eat shit, Lowell." Oh, no, she actually just said those out loud. Okay.     There are people outside, of course; the lake isn't the only source of activity by far. The impromptu landing zone connects directly to a worn roadside of surprisingly soft sand that winds back and forth across a number of small wooden bridges in a generally upwards direction, and by the time the group gets on it, they're already treated to sights of people switching off their lights and closing their shutters, hurrying back into yards with boxes of produce, or watching from around surreptitious corners, cradling cloth-wrapped items of concerning dimensions. The balaur somehow gets a precisely equal --no greater or lesser-- amount of wary staring from the largely nervous or grim-faced individuals along the way. They don't have a soft smile for even little Rita, and have plenty of fascinated-fearful-judgemental energy to spare even for staring holes in boring normal Petra.     Lilian seems fine with leading with Arthur. This sort of ambient, questioning hostility, like nobody really knows what the group is, never mind how to address or approach them, doesn't seem to bother her. Even when people in his way simply shoo off rather than answer his questions, and look at his big stupid grin with confusion and uncertainty. It's partway up, here, that she stops at the same time the entire group hears that echo again. Much less 'far, far away' now. Strong enough to vibrate subtly in their skulls, behind their ears. Itching behind their eyes like colour blots. Sparks of phantom light like syllables. Again, it's just Arthur that makes sense of: As they'd climb the tree of worlds, or go to seek the holy grail Comrades fast and foes but soon, chase her up the mountain dale By mark of hand as same as thee, did the devil's fingers fail So tell me of their places been, tell me her name and tell me that tale     Going up to the very top of the path, where the peak of the mountain should be lethally frigid, instead of 'pleasantly autumnal', Bond is immediately convinced of the highest building's purpose. He'd definitely passed by an old perimeter checkpoint, a foundry, a fuel yard, and probably an old armoury, seeing fewer and few people, of older and older age, along the way. The plateau at the top, now overgrown, has visible track marks all over the dirt, if anyone squints.     It certainly has the look of an old FSB, turned operating base at some decades old point. Ishirou's simulation of battle damage is consistent with some forms of Antegent attack, not weapons fire, and is almost exclusively quite old.
Lilian Rook	"I see that it is atrociously convenient. Like a little terrarium." Lilian replies uneasily to Tamamo. "It's the logical conclusion to draw." she continues. "None of us felt any magic when the 'Archer' fired, after all." Her gaze drifts off into the distance, fingers slowly slipping from Tamamo's grip. "Which implies something about Sakura as well, if you're correct. I wonder what it is that she wants, if she wouldn't think all of this happening would get in the way of it."     She bids her a fortunate aside, along with simply telling Trudy 'good luck' when they split, but it isn't really for long. Tamamo is immediately forced to rely on her charms to get a word in edgewise with anyone, but the strange impression she gets is that they don't especially fear her, but rather that they seem to carry themselves with 'fear of messing something up', as if they were all suddenly intruders on a religious ceremony or noble gathering; as if they might say or do something amiss that would butterfly into disastrous consequences.     The subject of defense is very simple, and she is pointed mostly in the same direction as the full group anyways; to the old firebase at the peak, but specifically to an off-center region of it, with an utterly non-magical totem of similar make but reasonable size compared to the southern FOB, and colourful cloths and banners added to a clearcut barracks building. Trudy's polite inquiry into Ai-Mökö are met mainly with common knowledge that he is one of the 'windway torchbearers', which apparently is in the same area. A sort of feudal-esque 'soldier class compound' with families living in relative luxury up higher with them.     Indeed, the returning party, stripping of parkas, is meandering up the mountain separately of the Elite group on another path, returning to high ground. It won't be too long before someone notices he isn't amongst them today.     Bond asking is guided to the same area. Apparently, men and women brave enough to somehow get around the mountain range on their own and operate the lighthouses are, themselves, a defense corps of some sort. Arthur asking for 'Oreshnika' by name, though, is the first time anyone is instantly, immediately cooperative. Without the slightest hesitation, any individual he asks points towards the overgrown comms center at the peak.     Actually getting there shows that it isn't very far from the 'defense corps', nor the old FSB yard, and barely larger than a suburban home. All the windows are dark, but shining a light on them shows that they've been blocked from the inside. The door has no special security measures, and is simply elevated from the dirt by prefab fit-together aluminium stair slats; the keypad is unpowered, though the slide seems quite stuck. The state of overgrowth, the dust coating everything, and the ominous air it gives off, seems like a condemned building.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Recite     Arthur makes a nauseous sound as he strides through, before rubbing his forehead. Unsteadily, uneasily, he tries on something more fitting to a Seer of Space. "Nnnh... as they'd climb..." He continues, trying to say the whole thing, line by line. He recites it all, eventually, as if to confirm what Lilian likely heard as well. >Arthur: Analyze     "Comrades fast and foes but soon...?" He shakes his head. "Foes soon? Shit, I hope not. Wait, are they talking about the letter fuckers? Wait, tell me 'her' name, I'm--..." He takes a few seconds. No, almost a minute to pace himself. This is someone who is thinking in a bigger picture, in bigger times, and with associations that can't be said clearly. He takes a deep breath. >Arthur: Speak clearly     He can't make a pithy, clever, witty reply as he strides onward with his path. "I can hear you. Can you hear me? Sure you probably can. Name's Arthur Lowell. Only authority I've got is Prince of Derse and Mage of Space. I'm here for the sake of Lilian Rook and the divine diviner, Sakura, and the other blooms off the tree. There's another bloom here, third of four, and I'm here for their sake too. Autumn Angel, isn't it? You can hear me?" Is this coming from the constellation? He tries to get a feel for the incoming communication. "I heard not much gets past you. Maybe want to let us in, let us tell you a tale face to face? She's been to London, she's been to the breach at Oda's blades, what more do you want? Was never any good at this *poetry* type stuff. But I'm good at helping if you want it."
Rita Ma	Despite the weather getting toastier, Rita doesn't seem to be too hot in her big jacket. It proves useful armor, not just against the former cold, but also against the perilously neutral stares of the townsfolk.      She's tried smiling at them a few times, increasingly nervously, in hopes of eliciting good cheer back. Eventually she gives up on that, accepting their suspicion of her with a bittersweet resignation.      That's the right way to treat her, after all, even if for the wrong reasons.      "I know what you mean, Mr. Bond," she says. "With the big furry things, and the cats with the teeth, right? But textbooks are imaginary. The stuff in them, it's like a diorama. So if you're saying it's like a drawing, doesn't that mean it's 'fake'?"      Her eyes scrunch up and teeth grit when the 'voice' speaks again; she stops to put her hand on the back of her head and breathe. Sometimes prior experience makes something worse, not better.      "Sorry. I'll be okay. Just a minute, Mr. Bond. ... You're alright too, aren't you?" She tries to glance around at the townsfolk, too. Did any of them react to the 'voice'?      On the overgrown plateau, she stares out at the view with her hands in her pockets after a brief examination of the dirt. "I guess they don't need security like this anymore," she murmurs. "They have to be under protection of Oreshnika, right? Or the Archer. Or maybe those are the same. So how are they going to handle the army?"      Rita lets that hang for a moment. Then her expression droops. "I hope Ms. Oreshnika isn't about to make herself do something she doesn't want to.
Tamamo	A place largely devoid of magic, and filled with ordinariness, does it rather easy for Tamamo's more charming charms to work on people. (This mostly isn't magecraft, but the effect is similar enough.) She's sparing with its use, just enough that it won't feel uncomfortable for anyone to leave her warm and inviting aura again, afterward, though she is in enough of a hurry not to feel at all bad about using it. Soon enough, she's joining the way up.     Strong enough to vibrate subtly in their skulls, behind their ears.     "Lilian, do you feel that sense of... some sound, below the range of hearing? Some sight, below the range of seeing? I cannot quite make sense of it."     He recites it all, eventually, as if to confirm what Lilian likely heard as well.     Tamamo listens to Arthur recite the lines he'd heard. After a few moments, she says, "I do not like the thought of my own grasp being compared to that of a devil's hands, I think."
Ishirou	Ishirou's head pounds as the unknown words flood his head, the back of his head near the base of his ear strains but he can't hear it.  He can't understand it, it's like speaking in a language that he can't even grasp the basic concepts of.  Like trying to use verbal language to a species that communicates completely through body language. He looks over at Arthur, "You could understand it..?  Well, that's...good," he says, rubbing his head a bit more.  He says walking with Arthur.  He looks towards Tamamo, "I mean, not everyone likes the sun?  Like people who stay indoors and play on the computer all the time..." "Or vampires."
Cantio	"Goodwill? Hm... Yeah, that makes sense. It shows them that we're not just going to kill their people for knowing about your involvement." With a shrug at Lilian, Cantio finally relents in her suggestions to remove any limbs! Instead, her eyes are glued to the tablet as the drone dips into the water, and one eyebrow raises slowly as she gets a better look at the shape of the land beneath the surface of the water. "An artificial lake, perhaps...? It had to be, if it's this kind of shape." She murmurs to herself as the drone dives deeper and rotates slowly in the water to capture as much footage as it can of the lake and the ecosystem growing within it. <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "The people that settled this area in the past must have dug this all out to ensure they'd have another self-sufficient reliable source of food. I get the feeling it's another reason they're able to survive here without obvious defenses in place." After relaying her observations of the lake, Cantio redirects the drone to scoop a small sample of lake mud into itself before returning to her. On the way back, it even does a little shimmy and dance with quiet, gentle music to try and seem less startling as it does. For now, her main concern is rejoining the group to figure out their next move while heading towards the base at the peak of the mountain. "Is everyone holding up alright? I've got hand-warmers." She offers, opening up her case a bit and dropping a whole stack of them into a gloved hand before passing them around.
Petra Soroka	As is so often the case, what Lilian is unaffected by bothers Petra immensely. Her shoulders curl inwards as the group trudges up the path, the stares pressing down on her like physical weight. She shoots apologetic glances back back at the villagers, as if agreeing that she's intruding.     Petra winces and scrubs her ears in response to the subsonic voice, shivering in response to something she interprets as ambiguously threatening. Arthur responding to it, however, has her relax her shoulders and look back towards the ground. Or, rather than relax, she seems to slump. It's not threatening, just something bigger than her, beyond her grasp.     Once at the top of the plateau, Petra's eyes trace the tire marks on the ground, then rise to look out over the valley. She pushes her recently-ungloved hands into her jacket pockets in a moment of contemplation, then responds to Rita.     "But there's only two options, isn't there? Either everyone here flees, or the threats are wiped out. It can't stay a secret anymore." She watches the fishermen around the lake slowly return to normalcy, with the Elites no longer distracting them. "Where does 'want' really come into it?"
James Bond	Bond manages a brief 'thank-you' for the information, but moves as if standing still burns holes in his boots, off again before the words have had time to settle. >You're alright too, aren't you?      It's that which gets him to stop. "I will be," he says, after chewing on the question in silence. "Once we let them know what's coming. Give them a fighting chance. I've seen what these people do when they have the element of surprise. I don't intend for them to have it."      Without much further said, he heads for the aforementioned fire base, keeping that same constrained hurriedness in his pace and demeanor. The fact that 'early warning' via the lighthouses is the primary method of defense here isn't lost on him--his eyes widen when he spots the party on the opposite path.      He increases his pace along the path, willing to go from hustle to jog to frantic climb to catch up with them in time to head them off.      "I need to speak with you," he calls out, retrieving the knit cap from his pocket and waving it to flag them down. "To warn you. Please, listen to what we have to say."
Lilian Rook	Lilian looks to Arthur as he starts reciting it all, and nods slowly and deeply in confirmation. "It was a verse the first time, too." She glances back up the trail. "How often have you heard folktales where there are magic words and phrases, where you say them just right, and something happens? Magic that works itself, if you ask it just right."     She seems taken aback, however, when Tamamo, and then Ishirou of all people, can't repeat it too. She casts her stare around the handful of middle-aged and scarred people still lingering around their dwellings at this height, uneasily seeking some meaning in their faces, and makes an ambivalent throat sound when she sees what Rita sees; that none of them display any comprehension either. "Tamamo. Rita. Do you remember--" A suspicious glance aside at Petra. "--Serenity? You could understand her, back then, sort of. Is it that different?" She does her best to laugh for Rita, but it's an unamibiguously tense sound. "What do you think the odds that all of them are like that? One data point doesn't predict anything, Rita." says Lilian.     Arthur tries his absolute best at the door. The dark and dusty and leaden atmosphere of the old outpost, practically choked of the slowly increasing light, reflecting from the distant snow, by its own unkempt greenery, settles in the pit of his stomach just for coming close. The longer he speaks at it, the more certain he is that he is being Heard. That the empty derelict has ears. More ears than he has.     The twenty degree air feels wholly insufficient; just going near that building is like a cold hand on the face, fingers sliding beneath the collar. It's as if the sun is setting on the east, not rising. That the world is getting darker and colder, not brighter. Even the dust won't rise from stepping on it; it, too, feels the enormous pressure to sit still, freeze up, and go perfectly quiet. It's like someone had tapped you on the shoulder, hissed a withering 'shhhh', and then tensed up in prickling silence, straining to hear some terrible sound.     The door slides a centimeter open. The metal complains with a quiet squeak for being moved at all. A sliver of blackness into an empty pitch interior, spilling dust into the dying sunlight. A ghostly white glow, like eyes, fills one small part of the door.     A tinny voice from some shitty freemium TTS app off a smartphone says "I'm fine. Go away." The screen glow disappears from the door, which slams shut.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Try to recognize this for what it is     "What? Hey! Wait!" He knocks a few more times. "Hold on! Come back! God-- okay, you don't gotta open up and do shit face to face. At least get on Pesterchum or something! Here, I'mma drop my handle. Message me! It's 'profoundBadness', no space! I mean, there's Space obvs, but not like typographical!"     He pulls out his phone, patiently. "Come on. Or at least get in Room A on Pictochat or some shit. You're *fine* but I heard Lilian and Sakura were *fine* right before a bunch of disaster shit. I'm here to be your new best bud!!"
Ishirou	Ishirou looks with concern at Lilian, who is looking uncomfortable at all of this.  He tries his best to comfort her with a look of his own and a smile, and an attempted hand on her shoulder.  Just telling her he's here and with her.  It isn't likely that anything that happens now will shake him out of his unshaken faith in her.  He does forgo the little bratty brother joke for now, because it is a more serious moment. He turns to the door and speaks up after the response comes back.  "We can't.  Someone here wants to meet you and...even worse people than the soldiers you know about are coming.  They're murderers who want to take you far away, and they want to hurt my friend too.  I refuse to let them do that, but to do that..." "We want to help.  They wouldn't be here if they didn't have an answer to your defenses...so we have to work together to make sure it doesn't come to pass..." A pause, "Worse, they've already caught another branch."
Trudy Grimm	Trudy brings up the tail of the group, arms tucked behind her back with a confident swing to her step while she rolls over what little she's gleaned. At the very least it seems those who would care most about Ai-Mökö's fate would be in the same direction, after all.     She glances skyward again, issuing a gentle, distant command. Seemingly out of nowhere, the crow she had released before descends once again to land on her shoulder. A hand unfolds, rubbing the creature's plumage. It moves and behaves like a bird-- but only enough to pass the most cursory of inspections.     She does pause when that voice rings out through her mind, taking a moment to parse the rhyme. It takes some time for her to riddle it out, an eye closing in equal measures thought and endurance. She listens as Arthur speaks out the rhyme that she was not herself quite able to grasp. Following this pause and consideration, the witch resumes walking, closing her eyes. Her answer comes in a lilting, sing-song voice, a sweet tone that doesn't quite suit the words. Far to the north, through ice and snow~ There's a realm in the dark of the underground. Hidden deep below where we all must go~ It's a land for the dead and the frozen...     She drifts off when the door opens so very little, then jumps when the party is rejected via Text-to-Speech and the door shuts again.     "Well," the witch shrugs with her eyes closed, "I never claimed to be talented."
Cantio	"Well. We tried." Cantio lets out a dramatic sigh as she's told to leave, turns away from the closed door, then waits about three seconds before heading towards the nearby wall. She considers her options for a moment, then phases her head through the wall to make her point. "They're right. The people doing this at the last tower set up a trap to kill anyone that investigated it, too." An arm comes through the wall next to gesture at the door. "A shotgun trap, and it didn't work on us, but it would have if one of the townspeople had opened the door instead." It's only then that she remembers to actually look around for a person within that base, and she even tries to smile reassuringly (if somewhat awkwardly) once she sees anyone or anything remotely resembling a face. "We're here to help, really. Some of us are just a little louder, you know?"
Tamamo	'--Serenity? You could understand her, back then, sort of. Is it that different?'     "With her, I could converse. In this case, it does not seem possible, properly speaking." Tamamo gives an uncomfortable expression at seeing that it's both Lilian and Arthur who understand, but only them.     At least the warmth allows her to open up her coat. She's still wearing a thick sweater underneath it, but she'd need to put away the coat to remove that, and the pockets are too handy, for the moment.
Petra Soroka	Petra notices the glance from Lilian, and glares back, arms wrapped around herself. What did she even *do* to warrant this treatment? Why is it always *her* being singled out, not allowed to know things, never trusted with the full context. And then everyone gets mad at her for not understanding!     Nevermind the fact that she refused to learn about Lilian when given the opportunity. She was probably right for doing that too, if given a minute to think of a reason why.     Petra opens her mouth, not entirely sure of what she was planning to say, but the words die in her throat when that weight settles on her. The sensation presses on her stomach, cold and wet and heavy, stirring the frustration already lingering there to alchemize something new, something familiar.     It's the same feeling she gets whenever she talks to Lilian, and it is so, unbelievably infuriating to realize that fact.     Petra balls her fists up and strides towards the door. She draws her rigid leg back upon reaching the door, and kicks it as hard as she can, shouting through it.     "Come *on*! Just be fucking normal and talk to us! We're trying to *help* you!"
Tamamo	'I'm fine. Go away.'     "My apologies for disturbing you, especially for this visit having been first considered for my own selfish reasons. I am, as you may yet know, Tamamo-no-mae. If you do not, it is all the more important that we meet. You may blame me for all of this, save for the involvement of the two groups of soldiers that now also seek you, each for their own ends." Tamamo lets her coat hang off her shoulders, putting her hands together in front of her.     "As we have now uncovered these events, and a man was recently murdered in, to my understanding, an attempt to protect you, events have proceeded a bit past my original selfishness. I had hoped that, given how Sakura-of-the-Mountain spoke of you, and how I have gained her friendship, I might also find yours. Truly, that was all."     She pauses a moment. "As I then found that there are men killing any who stand between them and your capture for unknown but doubtlessly unpleasant purposes, I fear I must insist that, even should you have no wish to see visitors, that you still accept some small aid. Even should you wish otherwise, and even if the reason for our connection is a strange one, it holds that I have this much care for your well-being, and would hold it whether you were in my sight, or not."
Lilian Rook	Lilian frowns thoughtfully when Tamamo responds. "Then I don't know whether it's . . . 'her' 'doing the work', or whether I always could . . ." She shakes her head and pats her cheeks. "Well. Perhaps it simply isn't aimed at you. Us. I remember you talking to Arina about 'sacred words' before, right? And that ghost mentioned 'perfect questions'."     The clatter bang that sounds out from behind the slammed door when Arthur starts calling out sounds a lot like a 'no'. The scraping sounds like a very heavy desk or dresser being painstakingly pushed in the way. When Ishirou starts talking abour murderers and hurting friends, and when Trudy starts her Spooky Witch Lady Singing of unfortunately aspected ethnolinguistic origin, additional banging sounds from the windows, and then the volume and range of all sound in the area is cut in half. You can barely even hear each other. Phone reception instantaneously dies. Radio uplink to the VTOL and Kana cuts out.     Petra runs up to the door and fucking kicks it. The sheet metal-sounding bang echoes gunshot loud.     Lilian is upon her in an instant, fingers squeezed painfully tight around her upper arm, grabbed from behind and pulled away. "What is your problem, Soroka?! What do you know anything about normal?!" Lilian 'yells'.     Ten seconds after the door kick, Arthur's Nintendo fucking DS from the trip quietly pings its cheery little jingle from its holding spot. He has a streetpass hit.     Pictochat A: 1/8     There is a post from user HAZEL, named with big block off-keyboard English font. Scribbled in frantic, clearly shaking hand, are the words rendered in capital letters:     MAKE HER GO AWAY!!!! >:(     There is a hastily drawn stylus image of a creature with a bob cut and a bomber jacket, scowling and emitting jagged noise lines. Probably.     Tamamo can barely hear herself speak, but she can certainly see, where she approaches the door with the patient care and saintly calm of the mythical 'good mother', that one of the windows is letting through a tiny bit of her own light. She can spot most of a blue eye peeking out from around some slightly shifted object, and the glow of a portable console on pale skin. HAZEL: I don't know who that is. HAZEL: I don't need help. HAZEL: I'm fine. HAZEL: Nobody can come here unless I let them.
Ishirou	Ishirou sighs when the sound starts cutting down.  Maybe...that was a little too much.  He holds his hands up and waits for the sounds to come back a little more.  "Sorry," he tries to apologize, "I know it's a lot to take in." Though this is starting to make sense.   Nobody can come in unless she lets them...but...what if they can't detect... "Son of a ...that's how.."
Tamamo	Tamamo has so much patience she can even ignore Petra being... like that. Almost. In fact, she visibly winces, before continuing to speak.     'I don't know who that is.'     "Oh, Sakura-chan is... many things, I suppose. It would be unfair to say that she is 'like you.' Rather, I should say that she is 'as unlike others as you are.' Such is the only conclusion I could reach, for this world having made this similar judgment of the four of you."     Tamamo tilts her head, her fingers lacing together, almost entreating. "Ah, if you meant myself, I am the bunrei of Amaterasu-omikami, Goddess of the Sun. You may say that I am that portion of She of the Pale-Gold Face that loves humans."     'I don't need help.'     "I would hope that this is so, but my worry remains. Many preparations have been made in secret, to defeat your every attempt to remain on your own. Spirits have been called from far away, blood oaths made, favors and debts called upon, to find you. The men who work under the sign of the Hunter do not know, properly, the extent of your ability. I am certain of this. They are, unfortunately, resourceful, determined, and ruthless. I would not wish any contend with them alone, if I did not wish that one to die in the attempt, and I most certainly do not wish this of you. Ah, however, it is true that they would not kill you. They would only kill or take hostage every other person nearby, I expect. This seems to be their method. They wish to take the four of you alive."
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Holy shit, get in pictochat     Is this for real? Hell yes. Arthur retrieves his Nintendo DS from deep in the depths of his Sylladex, flipping it open and tapping in to join. "Wait, I got this! Pictochat!" He says, as if anyone else knows what the fuck Pictochat is. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    Yeah that's PETRA she's like a kind of like you but her   | | PLACE MOVES and stuff. It's kinda WILD but I think she's WORKING ON SOME     | | THINGS. Or she's SUPPOSED TO I think.                                        | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    BANGER DRAWING ALSO TBH.                                  | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    Okay so you got your shit UNDER CONTROL HERE, but         | | there's a whole-ass TREE PROPHECY and WILD WORLD-CHANGING STUFF GOING DOWN   | | seriously this is partially ME needing YOUR HELP TOO.                        | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    like maybe 20% me needing your help, 80% me getting up    | | in this biz to bring you MAXIMUM FRIENDSHIP                                  | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     He looks at the others. "Do you guys not have a NINTENDO DS?" He asks, in confusion. "Look, just yell at me what you wanna say, I'll relay that shit if it don't suck ass."
Lilian Rook	Lilian stares dumbly at Arthur, then gestures down her body with her hand. "Do I look as if I have pockets, Lowell?" she says, reciting the eternal battle cry.
Arthur Lowell	>==>     "One of these days I'm gonna get you a SYLLADEX. Shit, why didn't I do that for CHRISTMAS? When's ya birthday?" Arthur rambles as he tap-tap-taps away at his DS touchscreen.
Ishirou	"Just speak to me and I can translate it for you, alright?" Ishirou says, with an exasperaited sigh. 4IS joins the chat. 'hi, sorry for dumping stuff on you, just worried...also uh, can this work for people you can't detect?'
Trudy Grimm	"You have a perfectly good shadow," Trudy remarks offhandedly towards Lilian, cradling her chin in thought with her eyes on the building and all the Hasty Fortification Noises going on inside.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: relay some thoughts from James Bond ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    Look, this sucks to say but the kind-of-maybe-good way    | | things have been is falling apart.                                           | | It really does suck shit to write this and I'm actually really sorry to be   | | doing it.                                                                    | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    For a long time now there's been, as far as I can tell,   | | this huge-ass debt that the tree of every-fucking-thing set up ages back.    | | And it's been who knows how many thousand goddamn years of interest. It's    | | coming due right when you're trying to live your life.                       | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    That means every dumbshit with a three-letter agency      | | thinks it's time to make a lot of hard decisions on a lot of people's        | | behalf because they think people like Lilian and Sakura won't do anything,   | | or if they do anything, it'll fuck up what they got.                         | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    So I'm not gonna tell you it's your obligation to do      | | jack shit but I'm gonna sit out here and break the noses of those NASCAR     | | fuckheads or whoever else steps at you because they'll be 100000x worse      | | than Petra because they want to do fucked up power games.                    | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    I'll keep sitting out here and doing it until you think   | | it's cool to talk. Because doing that means I can stop what happened to      | | Caelton from happening here, too.                                            | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | profoundBadness    And that shit sucked on ice. Man in the Moon wardbreak.   | | Nightmare. I already like this place and I'm gonna sit out here and stop     | | that from happening again alone if I gotta.                                  | ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
James Bond	James Bond does not own a NINTENDO DS.      He puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder and pats him in grateful silence.
Trudy Grimm	Reaching a concensus internally, given the messaging she's getting, Trudy lets out a sigh and raises one hand. Using just a fingertip, she sketches out a rune; it's the tilted t of Nauthiz, the rune of Necessity. No sooner has the glyph appeared that it disperses in glittery light.     The shadow around Petra's feet deepens to void-pitch. Without warning, the girl is suddenly dropped into the blackness and, summarily, removed from Hazel's front door.     The pilot's exit isn't immediate as one might expect. It's several seconds before the shadow cast by a tree some ten meters away-- on the other side of the pathway-- deepens the same way. Petra Soroka is uncerimoniously tossed out by a pair of large skeletal arms. Once empty, the bony hands dust themselves off and recede.
Lilian Rook	Though Tamamo can see a little blue eye fearfully staring at her from the corner of a blocked window, it shamelessly flits back and forth from a screen just out of view, and taps out all the messages to Arthur instead, as if he were fucking psychic or something. They arrive without much respect to timing or reply, loading multiple thoughts into cache and firing them all at once in a disorganized stream. HAZEL: Her name is cherry? HAZEL: Never mind. HAZEL: You're right. HAZEL: Nobody is like me. HAZEL: Four? HAZEL: Mother said god is dead.     The fact that she replies to Arthur directly sometimes is only implicit by subject. HAZEL: Thank you. HAZEL: She's not like me. HAZEL: She's just weird and gross. HAZEL: She's crazy. HAZEL: If you need me to help you HAZEL: Okay. HAZEL: I know I'm supposed to help people. HAZEL: But then you have to leave. HAZEL: I don't want friends.     Ishirou, and the bit about secret conspiracies and detection, gets a weirdly lengthy 'HAZEL is writing...' period. This is because the reply comes with the drawing function used to the utmost. HAZEL: That won't happen. HAZEL: I saw you before you came here.     Attached is a significantly less shaky, and sort of shockingly good rendition of the VTOL, the Kana, the RESCUE frame, and even the balaur, done separately in shitty little plastic toy stylus. There is even a little red stencil mark for the G.D.F squadron emblem, and a marking on the Kana that actually isn't there, but sure was once upon a time. HAZEL: I can see you right now. HAZEL: Look.     A rendition of the Elite lineup. Mostly silhouettes, because that's what low resolution scribbling and bucket tools are good for. A jarringly accurate, simplified outline of tall Bond, of slight Ishirou, of purple Cantio (currently missing a head and arm), tiny Rita embellished with little blue curly butterfly wings(?) ostensibly for fun, one of Petra radiating stink lines (she missed a spot near the navel), baggy-clothed Arthur (drawn twice for some reason), Trudy and her book and a big shadow beneath her, Tamamo's curves and tails sketched in very faintly in the middle of a big ball of yellow light (there are a pair of pink eyes beside her head, as if looking over her shoulder, left by error?), and a solid black faceless humanoid creature with a red halo and four red eyes. HAZEL: See? HAZEL: I know what's going on outside. HAZEL: I'm fine.     There's a long pause, after all the rest. It's not a writing indicator pause.
Lilian Rook	HAZEL: If you promise to help them. HAZEL: I'm fine. HAZEL: I don't need help. HAZEL: Things are fine for me. HAZEL: But all those people have been through a lot. HAZEL: They don't deserve this. HAZEL: I don't mind it because I can handle it. HAZEL: I'm strong. HAZEL: They got hurt way more than I did. HAZEL: So it's only fair that I protect them. HAZEL: Did you get hurt a lot too? HAZEL: Do you need me to protect you? HAZEL: I can't imagine what you've been through. HAZEL: But I'm here. HAZEL: You can rely on me, okay? HAZEL: I'm okay.     Cantio, with her head phased through the wall, actually can't see much. It's not just that the sunlight is blocked, but the interior is dark too. It's dusty and stale and a little hard to breathe. She hears a quiet thump, sees the bobbing screen light of a vintage game console wobbling through space, chokes on stirred up dust, and is promptly yanked back by her collar by some invisible hand that hurls her out onto the dirt. The last thing she saw was a glimpse of bare feet, as is her luck today.     Laborious scraping. Clack bang bang. The moon volume filter drops away from you. The door scrapes open, bit by bit. A girl, barely an inch taller than Rita, and who weighs at least ten pounds less, staggers back away from the sunlight, shielding her face. Blue eyes. Almost platinum blonde bedhead down to her hips. A carefully guarded, beat up old nintendo handheld carried like an infant child. A rumpled white t-shirt down to her knees. Nothing about the image particularly screams 'angel'. Especially not if one glances past her, beyond a short hallway, and into a central computing room, with all the chairs crammed into one corner every desk just littered with empty bottles, MRE bags, banged up pots, and empty wooden lunch boxes. Certainly, it isn't saved by the barely audible ". . . come in . . ." that follows her swift retreat like an afterthought.
Petra Soroka	Petra tries to wrench herself out of Lilian's grasp, unsuccessfully, of course. She stomps her feet while squirming, in a brief but viscerally embarrassing tantrum.     "God! Whatever her fucking damage is, why does it justify her acting like this when something important is happening? Are the rest of you just going to sit here and coo at her until she deigns to grace you with her presence? It's a fucking emerg--"     Petra falls through her shadow, gasping in surprise. She shrieks and kicks at the skeletal hands as they deposit her away, then slowly realizes what happened, glaring back at the rest of the group. From her position on the ground, she fishes through her bomber's pockets and pulls out the DS she'd been too anxious to play on the flight over. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Silke02n1    hey hazel. Silke02n1    idk what ur deal is or actually neone here's really Silke02n1    but this place is impt to u right? Silke02n1    there's ppl coming, u know that already Silke02n1    we want 2 help, so let us!! Silke02n1    you dot need 2 protect it all urself ------------------------------------------------------------------------------     Petra furiously taps on the screen with her fingernails, sitting in the dirt. She leans forwards and rests her chin on her knees. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Silke02n1    srry for yelling btw Silke02n1    this is a fine way 2 talk if its what u can do Silke02n1    was just anxious cuz its urgent ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Double check something     Arthur looks over his shoulder with a jolt! Looking around, he eventually calms. Then he starts counting something on his display, counting, counting... And then he looks at Lilian, and back to the DS, with a pair of wide eyes. >Arthur: Enter     "Bangin'." He declares as he heads inside a place that somehow is messier than his own. "But first and only warning, you're not getting through this without a friendship. That's the Arthur Lowell guarantee. I'm walking out of here with a new friend and that's a space fact. Don't care how many psycho snatcher cyborg knees I gotta break to earn it."     He drifts around, grabbing one of the cornerchairs for himself and letting her keep the main one. "Pop a squat. We're gonna put together a plan to keep this place working just fine, and get some red on me while we do."
Ishirou	Ishirou smiles when Arthur gets through to her, and smiles at Hazel when she opens up the door to let them in.  Less so at the mess, but baby steps.  Small, baby steps... He walks in and takes a seat himself, "I believe that, that you're able to see things is far out there.  These people cheat... a lot." he says, bringing up a holographic screen and then starts sharing with her what he was able to get off the little he was able. "I wanna help these people too.  That...is something I like doing, is helping others..." he says looking at Lilian.  "So does she, despite sometimes the things she says.  She's very good at protecting and helping others."
Cantio	It's a good thing Cantio's not a foot person, or she'd be cursing and then praising the universe in short order. Instead, she just manages to register all that darkness in the back of her head for a moment before getting unceremoniously yeeted backwards. She takes the landing like a champ, too, just laying there for several seconds with a disaffected stare upwards to let her initial gut reaction of wanting to get up and fight whatever that mysterious force was subside first. Once her initial fight or flight reaction is gone, only then does Cantio finally sit up, roughly in time to see the door open and a barely Rita-sized girl behind it. She recognizes the little handheld, and she raises a hand in a light wave before picking herself up off the floor to head on in. Cantio waits until she's actually inside that mess of a place before finally speaking up, resisting the urge to look around too much (although she's totally glancing at all the garbage). "Thanks for letting us in. I mentioned it before, but we're here to help the people that live here. We're missing some information, though, and the ones responsible for this..." Cantio shifts around uncomfortably for a moment. "They have lots of information we don't, and I'd like to even that out. Can you help us with that?"
Tamamo	By necessity, Tamamo leans over Arthur's shoulder, though she continues to address the gap in the door, and not the console.     'Her name is cherry?'     "Have you seen cherry trees?" Tamamo asks, conversationally casual.     'Four?'     "There are four, yourself included, who were given similar judgments, for similar reasons of dissimilarity." She stops herself, "That is, there are three others who are as unlike."     'Mother said god is dead.'     After a small pause, "I was killed, but this is something that happened long ago. Another of the four called upon the Sun, and opened a path that allowed my return."     'I know I'm supposed to help people.'     "Oh, my, my."     'See?'     'I know what's going on outside.'     "Oh, is this how I appear, just now? And this must be... this is quite skilled, though curious."     'You can rely on me, okay?'     There comes that strange my, my again, some strange energy rising in Tamamo's form. "If you would be so kind, I would be most appreciative. Everyone here is in quite a lot of danger, much as it is unpleasant to admit this. It has also been some time since... I..."     Tamamo sees the inside of Hazel's home.     "Should you not mind, the journey has been long, cold, dark, and coated in blood, and I would be most grateful for the opportunity to make us all a meal. Please excuse me."     Upon gaining access to this inner gamer sanctum, Tamamo walks to a desk, unrolls a full-sized garbage bag from one coat pocket, and begins stuffing empty bottles and MRE bags into it. She clears away all of the obvious trash before reaching into the opposite side of her coat and pulling out a portable flameless stove, makes some snap judgments whether to use the set of pots she has stashed in there or to use the banged up ones here, and starts laying out a cutting board, several knives, a cloth bag of potatoes, a second of bound carrots, a tiny spice rack held together with twine...     This goes on for a while.     "...oh, I had expected we would have enough snow to boil, and had not packed sufficient water, considering the weight. Might someone fetch some?"
James Bond	Bond does his best to ignore Petra's outburst, though it's difficult for him. His thumb and forefinger pinch the bridge of his nose and breathes a sigh of relief when she disappears.      "Thank you," he says, and it's not clear if he means Trudy or Hazel. He steps inside, hands in the pockets of his fatigues.      "It's fairly clear you can see much farther and in more ways than most people ever will. I'm glad that it's helped you to keep safe," he adds. Bond is in no hurry to follow her very far inside--probably because of how quickly she retreated after having opened the door.      "Anything you can tell us about what you've seen, where NAZCA is concerned, would be helpful. These are people who won't stop unless they're shown, in no uncertain terms, that they're dealing with immutable, undisputable reality." Bond pauses, sighs through his nose. "And sometimes, not even then. If that toy of yours has an internet connection," he continues, offering a dry anecdote, "You should search up 'attempts on Castro.'"      "This isn't just a matter of successfully protecting the village here. The defeat has to be absolute, humiliating, and prohibitively expensive for them to attempt again."
Trudy Grimm	When Petra is ejected from the shadows, Trudy's looking right at her. It's easy to assume it's judgemental, though she's just making sure there's no real injuries from the trip. Once the girl settles down with her game console-- a thing that really sits somewhere beyond Trudy's expertise-- she turns away with the assumption that Everything Is Cool.     Orenishka shows herself. This disheveled child who looks like she just got out of bed. Beholding Trudy in this moment displays a broad shark-toothed smile, that genuine expression so common to the death witch, "Aww, now I feel terrible, you must have been sleeping when we showed up." Closing her eyes as she approaches the home, "Ah, but it's such a great talent to be so aware of your surroundings even when asleep--"     She steps on something, pausing and glancing down at the MRE wrapper under her shoe. Glancing up, she crosses the gloomy, dusty interior of the home. Standing in the light cast by the doorway, Trudy blurts out for the second time on this expedition, "Girl, you live like this?"     She pauses, there, squinting at Nothing in a fit of deja-vu. Tamamo's fastidiousness spurns the Witch into action and she shifts back into motion to assist with the tidying up, "I'll get one of my cute friends to fetch it in a moment, unless someone else would rather do so. It'd probably draw less attention if the person collecting water was actually alive."