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Kale Hearthward	Everyone gets a ticket. If you were involved in the train incident, you received one directly. It arrived in your mail - or slipped under your door, or into your pocket if you don't have a public mailing address. Possibly you came by one by other means - getting one from someone who didn't want theirs, most likely. ------------------------------------------------------ | ADMIT ONE To the Balan Theatre Sept. 30 at 6 PM   / | For a special showing of: THE BALAN APOLOGY TOUR / | Offered Complements of Management               ( | Concessions Included                             \ | Outside alcohol prohibited                        \ ------------------------------------------------------ On the back of the ticket:     Sorry for all the recent trouble!     I'd like to make it up to everyone.     You may of course come and go as you please.     -Balan And that's... that, really. There's no magic on the ticket, there's no psychic residue, the ink's just plain ink and the paper's just plain paper - there's no traces of it being anything besides a normal ticket, really. There's a stamp if one's needed to get through the local mailing system, but there's no return address. ... There's no address on it at all, really. There's a time! And a place. But no address. Putting 'Balan Theater' (or 'Balan Theatre') into a search engine pulls up basically nothing that looks like it'd match. And then, today's the day. And now's the time. Five hours and thirty minutes post meridiem Multiversal Standard Time, on September the thirtieth. And you have no idea where to go. There's that old theater across the street, maybe, the one that's got 'BALAN THEATRE' on its front in neon letters, maybe that's it? ... Wait, was that there before?
Kale Hearthward	No, it wasn't there before, but at the same time it's always been there. Space has been made for it, if necessary. It might be nestled between two skyscrapers that were previously nearly touching, it might be the third of only three buildings in a frontier town, but it's there. It wasn't there yesterday, and it won't be there tomorrow, but it's always been and always will be there. And most importantly, it's within walking distance. If you don't go in... nothing happens. There's no cosmic force pushing you inside, no brain-twisting lures pulling you inside. For those that *do* go in, clutching their tickets, though... you do have something pulling you further in, past the doors and into the lobby: popcorn. Fresh, falling out of a bucket popper like a waterfall, filling up the clear glass box with beautiful white kernels and filling up the air with scents and sounds of sizzling oil and butter. The popcorn popper is on a counter, along with a soda fountain, coffee station, and several racks of boxed candies and bagged snacks and trays of fresh fried foods (under a heat lamp), and, for the health conscious, premade salads and bottled water. ... But, like, they're the upper end premade salads, with stuff like nuts and bits of fruit and stuff mixed in. The sort of salad you might actually trade that candy bar for, straight up by choice. By this point, this far into the theater, everyone's in the same place, despite entering via different places, and the exit leaving to those same different places/to wherever you entered from. You all can see each other, rub elbows, fight over the last tray of cheese sticks, etcetera. There's movie-style posters along the walls of the lobby... THE WARRIOR FACING A RESETTING FATE - a boy in ill-fitting oversized plate mail, staring down a grinning void, with 1's and 0's swirling around it. THE SHEPHERD AND THE SCATTERED FLOCK - an older woman in a Bo Peep-esque outfit, wielding a giant ruler as if it were a shepherd's crook, chasing after sheep wearing tasseled blacktops on their heads. THE NOT-CAT AND THE WORLD MACHINE - some young cat person holding a giant lightbulb, staring up at a giant tower in the background. Also there's a stack of pancakes, for whatever reasons. THE BALAN APOLOGY TOUR - Oh, that's the one you're probably here to see. This one just looks more abstract than the other ones, though. It looks like some blurry person waving pieces of terrain into place, as if they were creating the world itself piece by piece. Further in, past the bathrooms (clean, unisex), past a door reading 'STAFF ONLY', there's a short hallway leading into the theatre proper - two sections of comfortable seating, separated/bordered by three aisles, facing a raised semicircular stage at the front. The house lights are up, the stage lights are down. The curtain's drawn, and it's impossible to see what's beyond it. ... There's also a balcony, with no clear indication of how one is supposed to get up to it using mundane methods. There's still a few minutes before things are supposed to start. For whatever's supposed to happen then, anyway.
Arcadia	Was the ticket suspicious? Yes. The lack of addess but the theater just being there when the time was right? Definitely. But supicious and weird didn't necessarily mean it had to be a trap or something, especially coming from a guy who didn't quite seem to grasp how the normal world worked. So... it's a thing. Honestly due to her role as Guardian it's rare that Arcadia gets to do something so civilianly casual as attenting a show at a fancy theater, so she's willing to give what appears to be Balan wanting to make some form of apology a chance. If nothing else, then she's there if it does turn into some other form of chaos. So the sphinx is here, joining whoever else has decided to actually follow their ticket and attend the show. Just normal organic wings showing on her back and clad in a red tanktop and skirt that could pass as a casual version of her usual attire. If she does need her armor she can just summon it, but plodding around in it when unneeded wouldn't much for her right now.
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan's friends are not exactly geniuses. Especially not in the multiverse. "Well, it's not here," Cole, the portly skunk, offers. "It has to be somewhere out in the multiverse." Cut to Aidan, wearing a powder open tunic with black tight wool leggings, and a matching black canvas messenger bag, walking everywhere in the multiverse he can think. He spends all day walking. Going to every theatre district, every out of the way city he can manage in a full day. In idyllic medival towns. Deep in dystopian asian consumed metropolises. In weird bug cities and delightful fairy grottoes. He is sitting on a park bench, drinking an almond milk, peach, guava, banana drink when he suddenly notices the building across from him. "Oh hey! I did find it!" -------------------------------- Aidan looks around. "Neat. One of those... movie places, I thought it would be a play," there is a note of dejection in his voice. Movies are so BORING. They are fine for a boring saturday night. This thought swirls in Aidan's head until it is thrust out by the sight of FREE FOOD! Within moments, Aidan has one of those cheap paper traps crammed with butter free popcorn, mike and ikes, and one of those nice salads that has like dried cranberries and pumpkin seeds. He carefully shifts it to one hand, then the other, realizes he is never going to get it into just one hand, then, simply waves his tail at Arcadia in a BIG FLUFFY wave. "Hey! Do YOU think this is a trap?"
Petra Soroka	The Infinity Train debacle was miserable for Petra-- and Angela-- specifically. Given her point in her arc at the time, the amount of time that she spent on the train, and the fact that she alone was given a number and not only failed to clear it, but more than doubled it by the time they defeated Lance, Petra has more reason than anyone-- except Angela-- to never want anything to do with the Train again. Morally, personally, and narratively, she's antagonistic towards everything to do with it.     And this is obviously a trap of some kind, right? A trap, or an unwitting mistake, or a lure that someone else will take advantage of, to set the whole cycle going again. Petra doesn't even care about apologies, as a rule; Lilian wasn't hurt by the Train, so there's no reason to exact punishment on anyone related to it, and Petra is capable of moving on and ignoring any harm done to herself.     But when she turns onto the street her apartment is on, coming home from Lobotomy Corporation just before 6:00, she has the ticket in her pocket, just in case. After all-- even if this goes terribly, she *is* morally, personally, and narratively opposed to the concept of the Wonderworld, and that's something to hold on to. Being harmed, getting angry, and being *right*, is a feeling better than anything else.     So Petra enters the Theatre, flushed from the bike ride in her bomber jacket, EGO weapon retrieved from Qetra to be strapped onto her back, where she's made the habit of keeping it whenever she's not on the streets of the City. Petra tilts her nose up quizzically at the smell of popcorn, pauses, and then frowns, moving to assemble herself a salad instead. Even if nothing goes wrong, it's still a free meal in a comfortable theater.     Petra considers to herself whether she's enough of an asshole to smoke indoors in somewhere that she's been invited, boots treading on soft carpet as she makes her way down the hall to the seating. She passes by the unisex bathrooms, and they fill her with an unspecified, unexamined irritation, so she pulls the carton out of her pocket, flips it open, and then loses her nerve anyways. Petra wasn't born in the 1950's, it's just not natural to her to smoke indoors.     Petra sits down alone, in the middle of the seating array, right in the most desirable section. She leans into her chair, kicks her feet up onto the back of the seat in front of her, and lazily picks at her salad while waiting for the event to start. It's not until others start filtering in that she catalyzes an important thought: I hope I don't get kidnapped again. That would be so embarrassing.     "Of course it's a trap, dude." Petra was not addressed, but answers Aidan anyways. "Or something stupid will go wrong, or something like that. If I thought this would just be some loser grandstanding on a stage and apologizing for an hour, I'd have just gotten Ishirou on the radio."
Futaba Nuki	Should Futaba be worried about this invitation? Probably. After what she had seen on a certain troublesome train and the VIP, accepting mysterious invitations to somewhere unknown could be far more trouble than it's worth. But... It could also make for a really good story to tell. That's reason enough for the ninja to head to the... Wait. Where the heck is she supposed to go? There's no directions, but there's a conveniently named place across the street from her home that definitely wasn't there before! She heads in with her ticket, dressed in her casual outing jacket and shorts combo with the big dumb scarf, and it's still flapping around though she's indoors. At least, until she sees the popcorn waterfall. And the drinks. And the candies and snacks. It's tempting to feast, but she's just had dinner, so she settles for just a little bit of everything while greeting everyone else coming to join in.. "Hey! You know what any of this is about? It can't just be a regular movie night, right?" She asks while shuffling along with an armful of snacks (with said arm currently transformed into a sizable tray to hold everything). "Guessing this 'Balan Apology Tour' is what we're here for, but if it's a trap... Uh." She gestures at the balcony further above. "It's kind of weird having a trap that's a pain to reach, isn't it?" Futaba shrugs lightly in response to Petra, then starts approaching the wall under the balcony. She doesn't look bothered by the lack of access in the least as she starts walking up the wall with slimy-looking boots. She's eating on the way up, too, pausing only to let her tail grow out until it's large enough for several people to climb onto. "If you need a ride up, gather 'round!"
Hibiki Tachibana	Hibiki's had this ticket for a while. At some point, during all the mess, she had put it out of mind as the haze of countless other things fogged over her ability to remember it was sitting in a corner of her bag. It only feels like yesterday that she was letting her birthday skip by, and now the 30th is already here. The day of, it came back to mind, and it occurs to her that--     ...She has no idea where it's actually going to take place. On the streetcorner, looking more put together than she has in weeks - mostly by virtue of having spent a day at home that was a lot of things, from 'messy' to 'relieving' to 'got to take a bath in her own house' - she has the ticket turned over to read the message from Balan, on the back.     "'Sorry for all the recent trouble'..." She repeats to herself, and those words reaffirm the feeling that she should definitely be going. Everything from back in the Infinity Train races back to her thoughts. Especially Lance. She glances up...     ...And there's the theater. After a second, she starts walking. ...     And two minutes later, she's stepping into where the show is set to begin, with a large coffee in hand. "...If it's a trap, Aidan, it's one that we already all walked into. So there's not much point worrying about it now." She answers back to him on entering, while moving into one of the aisles between seats. Or she begins to, at least.     Taking stock of everyone who's here has her expression grow complicated at the sight of Futaba--and at Petra, stiffen up only barely enough to be noticeable. Ultimately, instead of taking a center seat or the offer up to the balcony, Hibiki takes one of the corner seats, so to speak; one of the ones on the backmost row, off to the side.     "If 'Balan' is set on saying sorry, and we already came all this way...we might as well hear them out and see what they have to say."
Kale Hearthward	Kale's here too, he's just not doing much besides eating popcorn at the moment, and eyeing Petra whenever she gets the cigarettes out. He waves Futaba's offer off, and makes his own way up to the balcony. On the hour, at 6 PM, there's an announcement, ostensibly over the theater's PA system (which, a closer inspection might reveal, doesn't actually exist). "Please, take your seats and silence your non-emergency personal communication devices. The show will begin shortly." At five minutes past, the house lights dim. It's dark. It's quiet (or at least it's quiet as long as you're not being inconsiderate by making noise). Behind the audience, there's the <EXIT> sign lit up on the wall, and a faint outline of light shining through the closed swinging door frames beneath it. People might find their attention drawn towards it, maybe in the supernatural equivalent of a gentle nudge, reminding them that no they're not being kept here, and that's being emphasized. If anyone goes to test the door, it opens. "Ladies and gentlemen, neithers and others..." A spotlight shines down on center stage, with an audible click of a switch, illuminating nothing. It switches off. Then it switches back on, half a second later, with a new figure who wasn't there a moment before - someone who pretty easily fits the Conductor's description of 'the Hat Man', or - for those who've spoken to Lance or heard Kale's report, more accurately fits the description given there of 'Balan'. "Welcome..." He bows, and reaches up to grip the brim of his 'hat', and pulls it off his head to hold in front of himself - and somehow, he's still wearing it despite holding onto it. Did he duplicate it when people weren't looking? Is it some trick of perception? "... to the Balan Apology Tour." "Which this is, in fact, as entitled - an apology. Via negligence and neglect, I let those that were the responsibility of mine, become the problems of others. And you all have suffered for it. Directly or indirectly, it matters not. I'm responsible, I'm liable, I'm at fault, fault, fault." "And so I come to you, hat in hand..." With his free hand, he takes off his hat again - now holding the same hat separately in two hands, while it also remains on his head. "Not asking for forgiveness, though I'd be humbled were you to give it - but, no, asking for an opportunity to rebalance the scales. To make you whole for the inconvenience, to make restitution for the danger, to make recompense for the intransigence..." "... Showcasing and offering something of at *least* equivalent value..." "... But before that..." One hat gets put back on, reuniting with itself on his head. "I also promised, to all of you, not just an apology... but a show." The other hat gets flipped on, Balan moving slightly to catch it on his head (where he's already wearing the same hat he just caught). "And I'd be remiss to not fulfill everything I'd promised. An actual show, and not merely an hour of apologies, I promise." "So I ask - would you like a show, and perhaps an explanation?" He snaps his fingers. Colorful fluffy round... bunny/chicken/both things start parading up the aisles from the back of the theater, carrying fresh bags of popcorn and pitchers of drinks on their heads as they bounce forward. "And, perhaps perhaps, a refill, perhaps?"
Arcadia	Arcadia waves back to people. "It may or may not be. The only way we'll find out is see for ourselves... and it should be entertaining either way." Oh, its time to start. So she moves to take a seat. She could just fly up to the balcony but there's already a few people going there, so she'll just take a normal seat. Folds her wings down to sit back comfortably in the chair, tail continuing to flick idly as cat's often do. Hopefully this won't turn into some sort of captive audience situation, but we'll see. The hat tricks are at least mildly amusing, like a stage magician performance. Arcadia is willing to at least hear this out. And accepts more popcorn and drink from the fluffy ushers. Not like she needs to eat food but it helps complete the experience.
Aidan Proudpick	"This is going to be fine. It's going to be fine, right?" The squirrel gets up pretty close. He has SOME knowledge of how to act in a theatre, but only because he's been there a few times since arriving, and found that they don't like the crowd hooting and shouting. Which is unfortunate. Still, this is unable to stop him from clapping as Balan takes his hat off through some sort of sleight of hand. Then a hoot and racuous applause as he makes a joke AND THEN DOES IT AGAIN! Aidan picks up a salad and a DIET COKE from the bouncing creatures before putting his hand to his mouth, "YES!!!"
Futaba Nuki	Hibiki's here, too! After their last encounter, though, Futaba's mood sours visibly, and she doesnt' loiter long before heading up to the balcony. She's here for whatever the invitation is for, after all, but she keeps glancing over at Hibiki every now and then. Would it be worth confronting her about what happened right here, right now? Later. Besides, there's ruels to follow in this theater, and she's not about to get kicked out before she sees what this whole invitation is about. She does, however, give Hibiki one of those long stares with the slow narrowing of her eyes before heading up to the balcony with whoever needs a lift up. She takes a seat by Kale, sharing snacks and eventually settling back into a better mood by the time the house lights come down and... There's someone on stage! An unfamiliar someone, yet Futaba still manages to recognize him somehow. It takes her a few moments before she connects the dots and realizes that it's the man from the report, and she snickers lightly when he winds up with two hats. It's a stupid gimmick, but it amuses her enough to keep her attention focused. Then he has three hats. That gets another quiet snort, but she goes back to listening closely soon enough as he takes the blame for what had happened on that particularly train. "A show, huh? And an explanation... Yeah, why not? It was pretty confusing before, so let's get it all straightened out!" She calls out in apparent agreement/encouragement, raising her cup for emphasis before lowering it to let the animal-ish creatures provide some much needed refills. Like any good theater/movie goer, Futaba already finished all her popcorn before the show started.
Petra Soroka	Futaba is one of few neutral presences possible for Petra to see at this point. On one hand, Futaba was at Petra's arrest, and they physically fought during the worst point in Petra's life. On the other hand, Futaba indirectly got her account back on the forums. So it's hard to say.     Petra's reaction to Hibiki isn't nearly as subdued. She's biting down on a crunchy piece of lettuce when Hibiki speaks up, and she tenses so abruptly that her teeth clack together and her fork slips out of her hands to clatter to the ground, shortly followed by the dull thump of each boot sliding off the back of the chair. She freezes for a minute like that, expecting to be addressed, or to see Hibiki in the corner of her eye approaching or keeping her distance, and then... doesn't. Warily, Petra turns her head to the side to see Hibiki sitting alone, separately from Petra, without even-- from Petra's perspective-- looking her way.     After putting that series of thoughts together, Petra quickly looks away from Hibiki, so that she isn't being seen as the one starting any engagement between them. She averts her eyes to stare at the now inaccessible salad sitting in her lap for a few seconds, then flips open her compact mirror and pulls Qetra out through it. "Wow, I'm being invited to movie night? What's the occasion, ajoeto?~" "I mean, like, you're from the train, or whatever. So it's, like, relevant." "Ahaha~ you're a horrible liar." "Shut up and sit down." "Sure, sure. Hey, do you want me to hand feed you that salad?"     Petra begins reluctantly plucking out bits of the salad with her fingers to eat, mostly to prevent Qetra from doing it, as Qetra sits down beside her for no reason other than to demonstrate that Petra isn't sitting alone while Hibiki is. The posturing is immediately ruined when Qetra twists to look over the back of her seat and wave as the lights go down. "Hey! Bikki! You should come join us!" Petra groans, already regretting the impulsive decision to bring her reflection out, and just mutters, "You're being annoying; it's starting."     Despite all the vast and wondrous multiverse at Petra's disposal, despite the things she's seen and done beyond anything that could be expected in her mundane home world-- Petra gets excited for magic tricks. It's preferable to a movie, actually, and Petra leans forwards in her seat to watch. Balan looks like a magician should-- ambiguously fruity-- and his showmanship is above par, so Petra mostly drops her annoyance the moment he starts talking. She's the easiest mark in the world.     Simultaneously, in the exact same pitch and cadence, Petra and Qetra point at the fluffy creatures and exclaim, hushed for the theater environment, "Oh my god they're *bunny waiters*!"
Hibiki Tachibana	It's pretty difficult to miss /that/ obvious of a hint that they're not being kept here, or otherwise deceived - Balan is very clearly intent on emphasizing that they're not in the same situation as Lance's attempt at creating his Wonderworld. And for her part, Hibiki isn't going to make any ruckus during the lead-up to the event.     Because she doesn't have anything in particular she has to say.     Well, no. There's plenty for Futaba. When that stare is angled down at her, Hibiki shifts her head just enough to glance back her way and meet gazes, with a frown. ...But this isn't the place, so she'll save them for when they're not in the middle of a theater. Especially not one with dimming lights, as a figure she can recognize by description if nothing else takes the stage - which she's pointedly focused on, even when Qetra is calling straight to her.     "...Balan..." Oh. That's a hat trick, literally. The first one is something she'd expect a magician to do, but the fact he actually did it a second time is what actually catches her off-guard and gets her wide-eyed for a few whole seconds. It's not enough surprise that his words don't sink in, though.     Even when the horde of extremely adorable mascot figures bound in with food and drink, and she needs to make a composure check in their presence. When one swings past her seat with another cup of coffee and a small bag of popcorn, she takes them - and also takes the chance to briefly run a hand along its fur with a brief, unbidden little smile despite her best efforts otherwise, before letting it go back on its way.     Not that she's touching either beverage or bag, as she settles back in to focus back on their host. "...Both would be good, since you went through all the trouble, Balan. I've got a lot of questions--like what exactly your relationship with Lance is." He's very set on it being his responsibility, after all.     "...But that's probably something that's gonna be covered in your explanation." Along with whatever he plans to offer to...'balance the scales'.
Kale Hearthward	The bunny waiters zero in on Petra/Qetra, expecting pets and attention. "Right! A show, and more than that, a show that'll hopefully answer all of your questions..." Balan spins to the side of the stage, and snaps his fingers. The stage lights dim, and a projector flickers on - clearly a digital projector from the sharpness of the image being cast on the curtain, but the sound of film reels spinning up can be heard. (Also for those who look up, there's no actual projector, the image is just being cast from nowhere.) "This... is Wonderworld." On the screen is a drone shot of a series of floating islands in a white void, connected by floating train tracks. "A place of healing, for those who find themselves consumed with negativity and bad thoughts." "They arrive..." The drone zooms in on one of the islands, where Balan arrives via an appearing door - or, well, he's wearing a shirt that reads 'Person Consumed by Bad Thoughts (Not Balan)'. Despite ostensibly consumed by bad thoughts, the (Not Balan) still has Balan's grin on his face. "They spend some time healing..." There's a montage of (Not Balan) having tea, meditating under a waterfall, doing yoga, and reading. (During the few seconds of meditating under the waterfall, the 'drone' can be seen in the water's reflection - it's another Balan, with an old style VHS camcorder, being held aloft by a propeller beanie on top of his hat/head.) "... And then when they feel back up to heading into the real world, they leave." (Not Balan), now with a shirt that reads 'Person Consumed by ~~Bad~~ Good! Thoughts (Not Balan)' leaves via another door that appears in midair. "It's fulfilling work. And yet..." "... Well, you meet people, you get to know them, you solve their problems, and then they leave and you never see them again. Ever again. Ever ever everrrrrr-" Balan spins back into center stage, scattering the projection into floating wisps of color as if the projection's light photos were physically fog. "-rrrrrr again!" "And that can drive a person... crazy!" Balan leans in, and stage-whispers to the audience. "Not me, though, I've only been at this for a few decades. I'm still perfectly sane. I'm just gonna be a problem for your great-great-great-great-great grandchildren." Then he stands up straight. "But for my predecessor, Lance..."
Kale Hearthward	Balan does a flip up into the stage rafters, and then pulls long lengths of thread out from his sleeves - which trail down and into the floor of the stage, from there pulling up giant puppets as if he's fishing and the floor is water and the puppets are fish and the string is fishooks and this metaphor weren't tortured. "I'm Lance," says Lance Puppet (Balan clearly moving his lips). "I'm upset that I keep losing all my friends. I'm gonna go make a successor and retire so I don't hurt anyone." Lance Puppet pulls some strings from his sleeves and fishes out a smaller Balan puppet from the floor. "Hi! I'm good to go!" says Balan Puppet (Lance Puppet clearly moving his lips (while Balan is also clearly moving his lips)). "Great, I can retire... oh, no, wait, I've changed my mind and I don't want to go," says Lance Puppet. "I'm gonna go cause some new problems. And convince everyone to embrace their negative emotions and turn evil, and corrupt Wonderworld, and go change up my entire look with edgy tentacles." "Not without the power of Friendship! And magic costumes. And bunny-chickens. And quick-time events. And musical dance numbers. Take that! Balan's Bout: Ultimate Friendship Attack!" Balan Puppet kicks Lance Puppet in the crotch, causing both to clatter to the floor. "And that's more or less how that went," says Actual Balan, backflipping down onto the floor. "Plus or minus a few dance numbers. Then after dealing I got really busy with work, so I couldn't rehabilitate Lance, and asked the Conductor for a favor, and hoped that Lance had gotten everything out of his system, and you all saw how that went. Lived it, really. Sorry again! My fault. Totally failed on responsibility on that one. I really botched it. Gutter ball. Shouldn't have happened." Balan takes off his hat once more, without actually taking it off. "Please forgive me? Or at least don't throw popcorn and soda, it's a pain to wash this outfit, trust me." "... And any questions? Before I move on to how I'm making it all up to you?"
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan stares up at the 'screen'. "So... like the train, but nice." Aidan just smiles at all the additional Balans. Wow. This is cool! Like real life magic! He is practically vibrating in his chair, bouncing up and down as he leans forward. Then that phrase strikes him. 'It can drive a person crazy.' The squirrel looks over the audience back at Hibiki. Hibiki, who has done things that Aidan should have done. Who stood up. His head rotates back to the stage as he mules over the question. The very concept of creatures of omnipotence is struggling through those gears and finally, Aidan lifts his hand. "Two questions. I guess. CAN Lance be okay? And you did a pretty big mistake there, how do we trust this system? Is it okay to say just one person can take care of everyone? Make them better? How many people are we talking about? I want you to help people, but not capture them and also you turn evil."
Arcadia	The premise of the projector (without a visible projector, nothing unusual to someone use to magic and magitek) springs to life Arcadia sits up in her seat a little more even as she stuffing another pawful of popcorn in her mouth. That this might provide some answers and lore to why what happened with the train did is certainly enough to poke her interest. It gets to the part about helping people and then they leave, and don't get back to you. Do they even say thank you? The playback doesn't specify.... but oddly enough this is a sentiment that Arcadia can sympathize with. She loves attention, particularly from her people and those she has helped protect, so she can understand how it can feel jilted to not get some manner of praise for your time and effort. And then the medium of the show changes from a projection, to a puppet show of sorts. That gets a giggle out of her, amused by the swap in media to help keep the story from getting too dull. The giggle becomes an outright laugh when Puppet Balan kicks Puppet Lance in the crotch and the reaction that follows, even if puppets don't have the right things there to kick painfully. Afterwards she sits back in her seat, holding out her drink cup for a refill. The other hand taps at her chin. "So, because you were busy with Wonderworld keeping it from becoming a corrupt version, you sent Lance to another location, that train, that did a similar reabilitation with people. But he managed to get the better of the Conductor, weasel his way into power over the train, and try to turn THAT into his new corrupted dream. Which is why it started drawing in more people that just it's intended parameters of people needing help, as he really wanted to just making them into worse people with false positives and deceptive grants." She nods a little after Aidan chimes in. "It sounds like running Wonderworld needs more than one person to manage it, and those people not going to go corrupt and mad with power."
Futaba Nuki	Qetra's here, too! Recognizing her from the train as well, Futaba scooches closer to the edge of the balcony so she can watch her and Petra's antics as well. She can't help but snicker at Petra's visible annoyance at her reflection, either, even if that annoyance is understandable in the context of where they all are right now. It's not hard to get her to focus on the show rather than her... Does anyone here really qualify as a friend? She's generally got a good opinion of Kale, at least, but Petra's still a wild card, Qetra's... Okay, Qetra's probably alright, but she's definitely got some issues to sort out with Hibiki. Aidan's also a Watch member, and Arcadia is mostly unfamiliar. Futaba really needs to get back to real work after all this. For now, though, it's time for Balan's apology show! The intro to Wonderworld causes her a mild discomfort at how familiar it seems to the Infinity Train, but knowing that this is a show rather than a repeat of the past has Futaba relaxing before long. She's easily entertained, at least, by the colors and silly shirt text. Even the note of going totally not going crazy gets a laugh out of her, although she squints briefly at the mention of great-great-great-great-great grandchildren. That gets a groan instead, as though she's been reminded of something particularly annoying. The puppet show gets her mind back on track, at least! The puppet-crotch-kicks gets another laugh out of Futaba. Clearly, she's easily amused by this sort of thing, and she can't even bring herself to be too annoyed when Actual Balan explains the rest and goes through a rather quick apology statement about what had happened. It's not for a lack of trying to be annoyed, of coruse, but he DID look like he was pouring his heart and soul into that show. Futaba sighs lightly and waves a hand from the rafters, albeit a hand that's bigger than her usual just to make sure he can see it from where she is. "It's f... It's not FINE fine, but... Eh. You did what you thought was best for your dad, right? Can't really blame you for expecting more of him." "But... Yeah, what're you gonna do about him now? Is he... Is there anything that can get him to really retire this time and NOT pull this kind of stunt again? Like a... I dunno. Have you proven yourself yet so he can see you got this thing covered?"
Petra Soroka	"You really messed up, ajoeto. She's totally ignoring you." "What-- ignoring *me*?! You're the one who--"     The bickering that ensues when Qetra slides back into her seat is too quiet for Hibiki to make out the words of. It's not too quiet for Kale's enhanced hearing, unfortunately for both of them. "Besides, what do you even mean *ignoring*?" "Oh, you didn't hear? I called out to her to join us just now, and--" "Dumbass, I heard that. Obviously." "Oh, then what...?" "She's not *ignoring* me! She's my enemy! We're enemies! We're not friends!" "Well... sure, but...." "What about that do you not get? I didn't make a *mistake* when I fucking threatened to maim her and told her to kill herself. That's just how things are." "It sure didn't *sound* that way, when you asked to see Miku...." "And Lilian said no! She said no. And she's right. You listen to her, don't you?" "Of course, but... you want things to get better, don't you?" "Get-- come the fuck on. Why do you sound so much more like Bik-- Tachibana than me? Shut up and stop acting like you understand anything."     With her mood now soured, Petra huffs the conversation into a dead end and pets the fluffy waiters with a frown on her face. Her mood only gets worse at the brief introduction to Wonderworld. Something like that is practically a brainwashing mill, and it doesn't ever really work for everyone. A healing utopia is just a make-believe shelter away from the real world, and those people will just be miserable again when they inevitably have to come back to Earth because-- oh, did she actually think that part?     "If you go insane just because people are growing up without you, maybe you suck, actually." Petra mutters, in that awkward mid-range of volume where she's both audibly responding but performing the comment as if it's to herself. "It's normal for that to happen. It happens to everyone, and you're the only one going insane and ruining people's lives over it."     The Train's potentially-lethal dangers were never what Petra had an issue with in the first place, after all. She always detested the idea of a place that's supposed to detain you until you become acceptably Good for society's sake, no matter how kind it appeared. She bites down on a nut in her salad, rudely loud enough to pierce through the monologue.     Petra rolls her eyes at the hat trick that impressed her earlier, and scuffs her boots against the back of the seat. She doesn't respond to Balan's request for forgiveness, but Qetra does, cheerily giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. "I forgive you!" "It didn't even *happen* to you!" "Oh, right." "I don't have any questions, because whatever explanation you give, I think you're a tool and your Wonderworld sucks."
Hibiki Tachibana	When Qetra and Petra have their spat and then drop into inaudible speech, Hibiki shuts her eyes and exhales through her nose. She only opens them back up when the hushed sounds coming from that direction quiet down, focusing up on the stage.     When Balan said he was putting on a show, he, uh...he really meant it. The view of Wonderworld they're given onscreen is one thing. A very big 'one thing', right down to having an entire montage. "...Did he really just record himself...?" The depictions of 'spending time healing', exaggerated for effect or not, fill her with a distantly familiar feeling she needs to take some time to process.     The portion that goes into Lance, however, is another. Partially because of Balan's ridiculous acrobatics and stage presence, and the other because of the actual subject matter. Her question on Balan's relationship to him is very succintly answered, even if that answer draws a frown out of her. I help them, I put my all into working through their problems, into making them feel better - and then they leave. They leave back to the world that hurt them so, and they leave me alone.     "...Enough to drive someone crazy...yeah. I think I can understand why..."     A little too easily, maybe.     The story wraps up, and Hibiki still has yet to touch her fresh cup of coffee, nor the popcorn she had taken. She adjusts in her seat, seeming to mull something over a bit before speaking up. "...I can't speak for anyone else, but I forgive you, Balan. You just wanted to believe. And...I guess that doesn't always work out, no matter how much you want it to. I do have one question, though."     "You said Lance...was causing problems, trying to do the opposite of what the Wonderworld was meant for, back when you and him fought. But...on the Train, even if it was in a messed up way nobody wanted, even if it was tangled up in his own hurt--he really did care about trying to help people. Still cared, I guess." She lets that sit, then glances Aidan's way, given what she's asking is basically an extension of his own 'can he be okay' when it comes to Lance.     "...Even if he wasn't really rehabilitated the way you wanted...what happened still did change him some, don't you think?"
Kale Hearthward	> CAN Lance be okay? "Good question! I don't know. I think so? I've been..." Balan puts a hand to his brim, and dramatically faints backwards, landing on a conveniently appearing couch. "Terrrrrribly busy. High profile important clients. Inter-Wonderworld transit system breaking down. Giant solar lightbulbs. Inbox just utterly full. I haven't had time to work on it. Woe is me, and you should take pity on me and forgive me for being so overworked and laser-focused on making people happy..." Balan peeks out from behind his fingers, grinning. "Right?" > How do we trust this system? "Good question. Put a pin in that, if you would. Might be easier to show than to explain." > It sounds like running Wonderworld needs more than one person to manage it, and those people not going to go corrupt and mad with power. "Also a good question! Or point. Good point. Put a pin in that point as well. Pin-point it." > Have you proven yourself yet so he can see you got this thing covered? "Might be in the cards!" > "I forgive you!" "Oh good!" says Balan, with the response to that clearly aimed at Petra, not Qetra, as though he's misheard who it came from. "Glad that's settled, then." > "I think you're a tool and your Wonderworld sucks." One of the bunnies pushes a comment card and pen into Petra's lap. > "Even if he wasn't really rehabilitated the way you wanted...what happened still did change him some, don't you think?" And then Balan's grin falters, for the first time. "Maybe." "At the cost of danger to those who *weren't* mine to decide to put in danger - all of you. Who ended up being pulled into this, broadly, instead of entirely stepping up of their own accord. To stop someone who *was* under my control and was *my* responsibility." "I have a hard time being happy with the results, while being appalled at the process." There's a pause, and then Balan clears his throat. His grin returns. "Now then, I'll welcome further questions, but moving on to your recompense..." "... I'm offering, to those who'll take me up on it, use of a part of Wonderworld, for a while. Whatever you'd like to do with it, until you decide you no longer need it. Specifically, I'm offering you your own Stage." "That's Stage, not stage. Please pronounce it with a capital S, so nobody gets confused."
Arcadia	Cat ears perk. Tail stops its flicking about as Arcadia sits up a bit, looking maybe more interested than she should. "You mean, like a... vacation?" It is so rarely she gets to indulge in such a thing. Even these 'casual' events are a rarity... and maybe that's part of why she can sympathize with being overworked. Not that she would ever claim such a thing, but being the ace guardian of an entire civilization is a lot of work! Especially when it involves fighting. She has to deal with all the crazy shit the militia can't, plus external threats from the Multiverse, and.... Yeah she probably does need a vacation, even if she's too dedicated to ask for it without having an option like this for it presented to her.
Futaba Nuki	Balan gives reasons/makes excuses for how busy he is. Futaba doesn't look particularly happy with that compared to his merely asking for an apology earlier with her own reasoning filling in the blanks. He even reveals that he hasn't shown Lance his own worth, and that too gets the tanuki to let out an uncertain noise. "So did he change or not? I mean, I... I want to believe he did, if he knows that he can't do what he did again, but that's... You're not giving us much to work with here, man." Grimacing lightly, Futaba stretches her arm out to one of the seats closer to the front, pulling the rest of her all the way over a few moments later so she can speak normally instead of shouting from the balcony and without worrying about her quieter comments being too quiet to hear from up there. She can't stay mad at Balan too long, anyway, especially once she remembers he wasn't (directly) responsible for what Lance did (but still partially). "Hmn... Fine. But you really gotta work on him and not make more excuses, alright? That's all I need you to do if you're really trying to apologize for that whole mess." Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she tries to play it cool, but the mention of getting her own Stage has Futaba's eyebrow lifting slowly, clearly intrigued by whatever that may mean. "... I won't say no to getting a Stage, though. Er. Whatever that means." She pauses for dramatic effect, then rests her chin on the back of the seat in front of her. "So what's that mean?"
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan's smile falters, a drop of one side of the mouth. An uncertainty. Balan has moved from 'whimsical' to just of the other side of 'unsettling'. Like that Joker guy Aidan always sees on the news. He sits back slowly into the seat, tossing a yellow flavored mike and ike into his mouth. Then there is that. Resources. He could use it as a training ground. Or a home. Or just some place for his friends to stay. The draw is clear on Aidan. A little world to be a little king. To make all your little hero fantasies real. Aidan jumps as if burned by a hot stove, sitting up straight again. His mouth runs dry. "It's just stretches and tea, right?
Hibiki Tachibana	I have a hard time being happy with the results, while being appalled at the process.     "...Yeah," Hibiki intones with muted agreement. "I can't lie and say I wasn't, either." Even with her thoughts when it came to ultimately saving Lance, she can't deny that what he did caused all sorts of hurt. Or what kind of state she herself was in after getting out from his prototype of a new kind of Wonderworld. It's hard.     "Even so...." Rather than doubling up on Futaba's query of if Lance changed or not (or her grilling on Balan sort of swerving the topic and egging him to do better), Hibiki takes on a different intent. "I wonder if he can't become someone...who can just help people wholeheartedly again. If I didn't think he could, without doing it the way he did, I wouldn't have...tried so hard."     She goes silent after that, ostensibly dropping the subject as some of Futaba's words not directed at her still find an unintentional sticking point, and their host mentions--the use of their own Stage.     A part of Wonderworld. The offer clearly does catch Hibiki off her guard, and she has to think about it seriously. Her own corner of it, to do whatever she wants with, use however she'd like, retreat to whenever she wants to as an escape from everything else to clear away negativity...     "...I think I already have a place like that. So I'm not sure I need a second one." The warmest place for it she knows, that she spent all that time depriving herself of for all the wrong reasons. "Still--...I think I'd like to see your Wonderworld with my own eyes anyway. So, maybe just for a little bit."
Petra Soroka	"...Enough to drive someone crazy...yeah. I think I can understand why..."     God. You would, wouldn't you. Petra fixates on that line from Hibiki, tuning out the rest of Balan's Q&A. Something about that line really irritates her, even in comparison to her already-foul mood. Of course you'd sympathize with the guy who gets left behind because people keep getting better without him. You haven't changed at all. You're so fucking self-pitying. 'Bikki, I trusted you.'     You *would* put yourself in the shoes of someone who thinks they're martyring themselves by helping people. Oh, woe is fucking you, always being unfairly abandoned because people realize that you only tolerate them when you can feel like you're doing them a favor by talking to them. '... I don't need you to like me.'     Fucking cope and seethe. You only started acting like you didn't need me when you realized I'd moved past you. '...I missed you too, Petra.'     That's just how it was, wasn't it? You only wanted to talk to me back then because you thought you had emotional leverage over me. Because I had fucking 'bad thoughts' and you wanted to be the one to cure me. You needed me just desperate enough that I couldn't leave you behind, and then hated me when I did. 'That Petra is definitely real. Not fake. That's what my heart knows.'     Even back then. Especially back then. You were always there at my worst. Every time. It always...always seem like it has to get worse before anything gets better. I really--really hate it. But you're not gonna be by yourself, going through the 'worse'. ...I won't let that happen.'     And then you're gone when it gets better. No matter how much you say you hate it, that's the only way you know how to handle us. 'And this is what's worth protecting, too. Being able to talk with you, sit next to you, do dumb things like karaoke, seeing you smiling and having fun.'     So why--?!     Without realizing when it happened, tears are running down Petra's cheeks by the time Balan makes his offer. Her jaw is rigid, teeth gritted painfully together, aching down her neck and through her collarbone. Her fists are clenched in her lap, trembling slightly, and at some point Qetra had silently taken the salad bowl from her to make sure it wouldn't fall.     Opening her mouth to respond feels like prying metal bars apart. Her jaw wrenches awkwardly half-open, throat rough and tight, words practically hissing out. "I don't need your fucking therapy session. If your problem is people fucking abandoning you when they become too good for you, consider me already out of your fucking solar system."
Kale Hearthward	Balan glances over at Aidan, as if figuring out what he's thinking about. "I'll make sure you get a reminder to check on things in the real world every so often, alright?" > Hmn... Fine. But you really gotta work on him and not make more excuses, alright? "I solemnly swear..." Balan puts a hand on his heart. "That I'll go visit him, soon, and have a heart to heart." > So, maybe just for a little bit. "A 'little bit' is fine, you can leave anytime you want, after all." > I don't need your fucking therapy session. If your problem is people fucking abandoning you when they become too good for you, consider me already out of your fucking solar system "That's also understandable..." says Balan, after a moment's pause. "If there's something else I can provide instead, please let me know. Otherwise, the offer remains open, and I wish you well." The curtain parts, revealing a door on the stage. "Through here is... your Stage. Once again, please pronounce it with a capital S, so nobody gets confused," says Balan, as he makes a grand sweeping gesture towards it. "As always, if it doesn't meet your standards - you may feel free to make your exit." The door opens, revealing... a white void. It's empty till the first person steps through - At that point, it becomes moderately less empty, with the ground popping into existence beneath their feet, in the form of a disc that's roughly one mile in diameter. What sort of ground is dependent on whoever's stepped in so far - the ground that will appear when Kale steps in is city terrain, cobblestone streets punctuated with lanterns and street signs, for example. (Re-iterating: he hasn't actually stepped in yet, that's just an example.) There's no buildings or other terrain features bigger than trees (at least not yet), just ground that in some way reflects the person's desires, thematics, aesthetics, or some other part of them. With each new person entering, the ground gets more varied, in the manner of a pie chart adding more slices. The 'slices' aren't rigidly defined, with gradual transitions where possible, and the disc expands outwards with each new person that makes it into the Stage - keeping the amount of each type of terrain roughly the same, but just changing the layout to fit everything into a roughly circular shape. "This space, your Stage, is yours to do with as you please." Oh hey, Balan's here too - he's floating a few feet up, addressing whoever's brave enough to step through so far. "For as long as you need it. There's a few limitations, before we go any further..." He snaps his fingers. A blacktop hat floats in from above your field of vision, and a whiteboard floats in from somewhere else. "Ahem - number one!" He snaps his fingers, and a stick of white chalk appears, which he uses to write on the whiteboard in red marker, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth comically as he writes. "Number one - you can't take anything out of here. Number two - you can't leave anything in here that you've brought in from outside. Leaving it for a few hours, a day or so if you forget it is fine, you just can't abandon anything here. 'Anything' includes people." "But with that understood..." "... You just sort of focus, and put intent behind that focus, and put will behind that intent, and you can shape things as you will, within the part of the stage that's yours. Buildings, terrain features, people...-ish, they're not fully sentient, not real people... things like that." "This is... basically the free space of your Stage. We call it the Courtyard. You can put anything you want here, as long as it's reasonably open. There's some more areas of your Stage that we'll go over in a minute, you'll need to make your Tower and your Crown, but just get used to this part first," calls Balan, floating in lazy figure-8's around the sky.
Kale Hearthward	As everyone's going through the door (or not), Kale hangs back. "... Go on ahead," he says, to Futaba, and whoever else. Hanging back, and (after getting back down to ground level) carefully approaching Petra. "... Hey. Petra. You... do you, um, hang on." He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out a wrapped candy. "These help with... your throat, when it's dry, and... thought one might help. And maybe a walk? Getting out of here for a bit?" "I got the answers I needed for my report, so there's really nothing keeping me here."
Aidan Proudpick	Is that the only thing? To go out. To make sure you don't get sucked in. But also, the fear. Aidan walks up towards the door, staring out into it. Something he can't put a pin in. Just something that he feels as soon as hears that the world will shape to his heart's desire. And a momentary terror. What is over that step? What's going to form when he steps over the threshold. Aidan's breathing quickens, his tail twitching up and down nervously as he just stands on the stage, looking at it. His ears swerve back. He looks over his shoulder at Petra. The thought to open his mouth goes through, to say anything, wanting to reach out to someone clearly in pain. Then the closing of his mouth, realizing that she would just hate anything he says. Then a grimace of shame that he should worry about such a thing. Then he picks up Kale speaking. He brings his eyes back to the door. More confusion. There is still a hate for the Paladin burning in his chest. Something he can't put a name to. A reason. Too many feelings. Too many emotions. Hate. Shame. Fear. At some point, Aidan realizes he is actually sprinting towards the door, pumping his arms up and down, powder pink tunic billowing, the shield bouncing in his bag. He runs through the door, shutting his eyes, both to keep back tears and for a momentary unwillingness to look at what pops out. Grass. As soon as Aidan's paws hit the floor, grass spreads out. Trees, some yellowing as fall approaches, spring up from the ground. Dirt paths, well worn by carts and feet, spread and branch in odd directions. The facade of a fence, built by hand, unpainted, but tended to. A cool autumn breeze that brings with it the scent of apples and harvested wheat.
Petra Soroka	God. Why did she have to sit in the front? There's no way Petra can move to wipe her eyes without all the other Elites seeing, not while they're filtering past her to get to the stupid portal on stage (lowercase). Hibiki especially can't see any of this-- not that there's any way for her to know what Petra's thoughts are right now, but because Petra wouldn't be able to stand it.     Instead, she bends over in her seat, ducking down to reach for the fork she'd dropped earlier with deliberate slowness. Qetra, sitting beside her, awkwardly looks away, fixating on the exit door just as something to look at. Petra's folded over with her torso at a ninety degree angle staring at the ground, elbows pressed into her knees, when Kale approaches her.     "Huh?" Her voice is still rough. "I know what a lozenge is, Hearthward. I've got some right--" Petra reaches into her jacket pocket, and instead of pulling out a bag of lozenges, grabs on to three guns. "Whatever. Sure."     Petra stands up and takes the candy, jaw set with residual tension. She doesn't directly look at Kale, but her eyes are obviously bloodshot and slightly puffy, even though she's dried her tears at this point. She pops the candy in her mouth and pouts, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.     "A 'walk'? I can just fucking leave now. I don't need his stupid Wonderworld, and his stupid fucking presentation is done, so I've got nothing else to do here." Petra is silent for a second, and she scuffs her boot against the ground, sucking on the lozenge. "So yes. Obviously. I'm getting out of here."     Despite saying that, her slouched gait doesn't take her all the way out of the Theatre doors when she slinks past Kale. Instead, she loiters in the concessions main room, leaning up against a wall to watch the popcorn machine. She takes out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a slow drag, her shoulders gradually relaxing.
Arcadia	In the end, Arcadia is just curious what this Wonderworld is really like, and that's enough to get her to agree. If she can make a vacation out of it, that's a bonus. She bobs her head at the rules, particularly the 'can't take anything made here out' as that makes a lot of sense. Keeps people from doing crazy things that could put other places at risk, like making up doomsday weapons or stupid riot hordes. "Makes sense, makes sense." Her tail flicks back and forth a few times as she considers. It's a Stage, devoid of props. A blank slate. She hmms softly, then makes a decision and focuses a thought. Creates a nice little area of paved marble, much like what would be found in her home city. Easy to start with something familiar, and experiment farther there. After she squats down to rap her knuckles against the now marble ground. "Feels authentic. Impressive."
Futaba Nuki	'I wonder if he can't become someone...who can just help people wholeheartedly again. If I didn't think he could, without doing it the way he did, I wouldn't have...tried so hard.' "That's why he got that chance in the first place, isn't it? It's on him and Balan now to prove that he can, so that..." Futaba adds with a thoughtful grunt before trailing off, running a hand through her hair idly before clearing her throat. She'd really prefer not to think about the idea of killing Lance over a repeat of what he did, but she did make an oath to take responsibility for that possibility. At least, she's pretty sure she did. Before Futaba gets a chance to head for the door Balan says would lead to the Stage, however, she notices Petra crying. Just like with the party at Lobotomy Corporation, a lot of the context behind why is still lost on her, but it's still enough to get the ninja to check on her with Kale. Indirectly, anyway, since she doesn't actually move over to join them. Instead, she fakes stretching her arms up over her head and yawning, loudly and annoyingly to try and draw attention to herself while nonchalantly stretching one of her hands up and over to hold some napkins just slightly above Kale's and Petra's faces (and following them out, even). It's not really subtle at all despite her efforts, and the napkins look like they've been in a pocket for a while, but they're clean. Eventually, though, she pulls her arm back, then goes into THE STAGE DOOR. There's a bit of apprehension before she actually steps through, then goes into wide-eyed wonder as her additions, at first, look like... A nondescript street in a nondescript Japanese suburb! There's vending machines, bicycles, two-floor apartments, and all sorts of things that wouldn't be out of place in a slice of life anime. Everything in those slices are also weirdly huge, like they're being seen from a foot off the ground rather than at a regular human's standing height.
Kale Hearthward	Kale, who always has at least two swords on him at all times, wouldn't have anything to say about Petra having three (or more) guns in one pocket. (Well, actually, he might nod approvingly.) He *does* have things to say about Petra lighting up, but they come out as a weak "Could you not..." without much emphasis behind them. "Yeah, the whole... song and dance. 'Apology show'. Like he had to put on an entire show for it, instead of just saying he's sorry? Like this is all just... over the top. Like it had to be about him, not us?" Kale's radio speaks. <B-anter> Angela says, "...So how was the apology? Do you all feel it sufficed as one?" "Oh, I forgot to turn that to silent..." he says. Fortunately nobody talked on global radio during the performance. "Anyway, at least there's food. And the bunny things were cute? But... kinda a weird thing, asking if we want to go on another weird therapy ride, after we'd just gotten trapped by another one. Right?" Kale hopes that's what she's upset about, at least.
Hibiki Tachibana	Balan's Wonderworld, rather than the one Lance was trying to create. Even if it's something that they make for themselves, it's still something she thinks she wants to see, even if only for a short time. Well, she definitely wasn't expecting to get a taste of that right here and now, but it is what it is. The drink and popcorn are going to be left behind at her seat.     ...Still. At the exact moment where Petra had given her forced-out reply back to Balan, she stopped in place, just for a split second. Only for a split second. Then her head angles down and her eyes half-lid, and the air leaves her lungs in a drawn-out, entirely silent exhale as she resumes moving.     If she caught Petra's teary face before the other girl rushed to hide it away, she doesn't show it. If there's anything she has to say to her, she doesn't even begin saying it. Hibiki keeps on walking past up to the stage, leaving her to walk back out into the front while she continues in towards the white void.     A step, and a lot like where Aidan sets foot, grass spreads out. Unlike his though, there's nothing else to it - nothing but rolling green and small hills for as far as the eye can see, which makes it easy to come across as plain or even boring. In actuality, the real reason for the open terrain is that it's without a single thing to cast shade or block out the potential light that would be streaming down from overhead were the space developed enough to have a shining sun high overhead.     "...I see," she says back to Balan's explanation. More than the obvious, she can see where Lance was getting the concept for his own version of it. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree...or, if Lance actually came first, maybe that metaphor is the other way around...? She probably shouldn't think about it terribly hard. At least not as much about the additional things that Balan brought up.     "It'd be pretty hard to not meet our standards if it's something we make and create all by ourselves, wouldn't it?"
Kale Hearthward	Grass springs up in Aidan's section, along with the other pieces of what's presumably his homeland - or maybe his ideal memory of his homeland. It's pleasant either way. Arcadia, likewise, gets an area similar to her home, and Hibiki gets her wide open terrain. Futaba details hers. There's a bit of... friction, a bit of pushback when she tries to put things too close together. It's only a little bit of friction, and 'Japanese suburb' is a far cry from what might be the hard limit, but the area here, this 'Courtyard' part of the stage, 'feels' like it's intended for... wandering, really. The friction eases if Futaba adds things like alleyways that you can cut through the neighborhood with, or backyard fences that aren't high enough that you can't easily vault over them, or the occasional ladder or stack of crates that's just high enough that someone could climb up onto a roof from them - traversal options and freedom of movement, really. "Okay, you can keep working on your Courtyard, but I'll go ahead and open up the Tower and the Crown," says Balan, snapping his fingers overhead. There's... new potential. It's not visibly apparent, but everyone in the Stage feels that there should be an area, either within their slice or at the perimeter of it, that has a challenge. A challenge in the shape of something that is once again key to you. Maybe it's a race course or a jousting area. Perhaps it's a literal tower that's meant to be climbed. It can be a challenge for you specifically, or something that'd be easy for you but a challenge for *everyone else*. The 'openness constraints' friction in the courtyard isn't present for this part - really, it's the other way around. You want there to be one or only a few paths or methods to get through your Tower. And then, at the end of the Tower, the Crown. A small area, highly personalized, representing something important to you. Something cozy, or something you highly desire. Maybe it's your dream house, or an ultimate gaming den. Maybe it's a library, or a hidden treasure vault. A trophy room. Something that feels rewarding to reach or to be in.
Petra Soroka	"Could you not..."     "I could leave." Petra is fairly sure that's an undesireable outcome, but if it's not, she's only a tiny push away from leaving entirely anyways. She taps the cigarette with the thumb, ashing it onto the carpet without looking away from the hypnotic popcorn machine.     "I don't actually care about him. Or his apology. Or the show, or anything like that. If some self-important loser was enough to-- to make me mad, then I'd...." Petra is saying 'mad' in place of admitting she was crying, of course. But that leaves her without a justification, because she *is* always mad at the self-important losers surrounding her. Thankfully, Angela gives her a break in the conversation, crackling out of her radio at the same time as Kale's. <B-anter> Angela says, "...So how was the apology? Do you all feel it sufficed as one?"     "I should give a report to Angela later...." Petra never turns her radio off. Especially not when it comes to Angela or Lilian.     Petras's frown, directed straight forwards rather than at Kale, suggests that he kind of missed the mark with what she's upset at. She's in a mood where she'll talk anyways, though, just because he's put herself in front of her, just like all those times on the Infinity Train.     "I just hate the whole fucking concept. I hate the excuse. There's all kinds of people who can't handle when someone improves without them. I-- I hate that people expect it to be sympathetic, like it's reasonable to blame someone for leaving you behind rather than blaming yourself for not moving in the first place. Everyone like that does actually end up like Lance, trying to drag people back down instead of growing themselves."     The smell of burning carpet reaches Petra's nose, cutting through the cigarette smoke, and she grinds her toe into the pile of cinders of the floor. "I'm just sick of it. It's all so self-serving. The 'fixing', the being 'abandoned', the escapism, all of it. Like, it takes two people to be separated."     Petra lies, even though she's bad at it. "It's not like it really matters anyways. I'll just leave and be done with it."
Aidan Proudpick	The first test is done. Aidan looks down at the ground. Around him. At the others. Just grass. Just log houses and little bits of farm. Fences, trees. A forest in the distance. Home. But, Aidan can still reach home. Touch home. It's quiet. And you already know almost everyone on sight. It's impossible to do anything with anyone and not have it get around instantly. But then, it's hard not to know a lot of people either. It's safe. Comfortable. There's an area. A dirt path between two apple trees. A pond where kids with nothing better to do might job in. That's his slice. He can feel it. It's not the same pond, it just... feels right. He glances across it. It's not a grand castle. A long house, perhaps. A log house of great proportion. Aidan's throat seizes. Fear again. How many people are here. Hibiki? Did Kale and Petra come through? Who else was in the theatre. Who else can look in. Aidan stops, unwilling to progress past the point that he would have to see what lies beyond. Beyond this point, it's an unknown. And no one will see it. "Balan, how many people will see these things? How many people come to Wonderland?"
Kale Hearthward	"... You know..." "... I actually agree with you." Kale probably shouldn't have said 'actually'. He decides correcting that now after he's said it is worse than just moving on, though. "I think I was like that once? I hope I'm better now. If you ever want a laugh, though, ask Lilian about the whole 'four generals' thing, with Hiromi and Vergil and - honestly I forget who else. It was stupid." Kale leans away a bit as the burning carpet smell reaches him. He soldiers on. "But that sorta thing? You can't fix that, you're right. You need to get whoever to realize it for themselves, otherwise you're dragging them forward again and again. Or you get like the Train where it's trying to force people into a certain shape, which... good luck with that. Takes that thing months or years, it turns out. Or Lance, who's only really doing it for himself. And then turning out to be himself part of the problem he's trying to 'fix'. Or something like that." "... And then we get Balan, who - I dunno. Maybe *you* don't care about it as much, but I did think he was being a bit too grand about what's supposed to be an apology. If he's modeled after Lance, or running the place that Lance was, or however you want to slice it..." Kale shrugs. "I don't know. What I do know, is... now I kind of want to see this through. You and I were the only people who actually got forced into all this, everyone else just went along for the ride. Maybe just to take a look, check it out? To close all this out, and keep moving forward?" Kale gestures back towards the theater. "Or, to look at it another way, Angela would probably appreciate a full report, too."
Arcadia	It takes a bit longer but working within the new set of arrangements is right up Arcadia's alley. She does indeed make a tower, but it is surrounded with various traps and obstacles one would have to navigate around, hoops to pass through to progress, and in general something someone would have to be both quick and agile to get through. The kind of obstacle she herself would love to run. Though she's included plenty of platforms and jumping ledges for the people that couldn't fly to use, because it's rude to not be inclusive to a proper challenge. And at the top... well, she is a sphinx. Of course it's some form of library/vault/tomb combination. Hording of both trinkets and rare knowledge, awkward riddles and even if pointless trivia, is just a thing they do.
Kale Hearthward	Balan's there, next to Aidan. "We have a train system that connects the Stages. I was going to ask, later, if you were alright with letting others visit..." He takes in Aidan's expression. "... If it's... something personal, we don't have to have it in. Or I can turn off your section, if you need to."
Futaba Nuki	It needs to be bigger. Or... Wider? Wider. It's missing details, too, like the hidey holes. The alleyways. The staircases leading to rooftops, and the low fences that would be ideal for climbing if they weren't so huge. She doesn't spend too long putting together her chunk of stage just yet, though, since she's more interested in seeing what everyone else comes up with, and then... "Tower and Crown, huh? Sounds exciting.  If we can build something like that, too, then..." She struggles to come up with something appropriate at the moment, only managing to come up with a series of progressively stronger/thicker walls in sequence. That, too, is going to take some time to really get something good together with. "It makes sense to have people come and see these, right? I mean, they're Stages, not... Dressing rooms?" Clearly, she had to strain for that analogy.
Arcadia	Arcadia realizes what she's made, and ooohs. "I guess it was metaphorical, the Tower and the Crown, and I didn't have to literally make..." She shrugs. "It still works!"
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan stares at the walls before the tower. "Hm? Oh. N-no. Nothing like that. I hope not." Aidan pushes himself towards the door. He mutters under his breath before heaving it open. The area beyond is something akin to an automated training yard. Again, rough, rugged. Paints are rare, so they are used loosely, but this ideal situation has a light smattered of color on the dense iron banded wood. Cut outs of a mix of a variety of different multiverse species serve as targets for automated GUNS. Rows of shields waiting to be picked up and ran into the fusillade sit neatly on a rack. Even wooden doors that must be forced open without knowing what is behind them, stand. Aidan takes a moment to regard that portion of his mind. A tall feminine knight statue of vague rodentia origins stands at each test of skill. Honesty, Courage, Compassion, Integrity, Respect, Duty, Self-Truth spread out over the front of Longhouse, a place for people to gather, talk, take refuge. It's like a tea leaf reading, staring intently, trying to divine if this is phony. If this is a sham. A thin veneer over a desire for fame.