Scene #8794: The Lindorm

Owner	Pose
Dysnomia	Those few individuals who Dysnomia trusts enough with actual coordinates, are capable of travel there and willing to go through the trouble, find a dwarf planet at the rim of the solar system. It was red,. Orbited by a ring of trash. And within that trash, a great vessel, still mostly whole. The Lindorm. It had been a luxury liner of some sort, once. Now, it was a quiet husk, drifting in space. A momument to grandeur, fallen to ruin, pockmarked with microasteroid impacts across its surface, leaving craters in its hull like a planet's surface. And harsh remnants of the violence long past that had turned it into a wreck. It's a very different first impression than those who enter through the warpgate. Oh, it was a luxury liner alright. As they walk out, into what must have once been a grand foyer, it's easy to see where Dysnomia's fingerprints all over it. Rotting opulance had been stripped methodically away. Repurposed. What was left of it seemed almost cramped. The place behind a spiral stair was made into a cozy lounge, hidden from prying eyes. Expansive space, great tall ceilings, made to evoke a sense of awe in the fashion of grand cathedrals, are given no respect. Pathways honeycomb outward to fill it with another little cubby, with warm chairs, a table. Warm, intimate little hideaways. Strange seaweed was left to grow in pots, here and there, adding a spark of green, flowing through the air as if they were in water, their veins glowing faintly with their own light. The walls were all browns, blacks, lit with warm lights imitating the glow of an alien sun, where likewise alien microbes danced from light to light in midair rivulets, drinking their fill of psychic light. All around them, lining the walls, hanging from the ceiling, were signs. Some, written in baffling alien tongues, some human. All of them, strangely mundane. A red sign here, of a quadrapel figure standing over a rail on the ground, with a warning-red X across it. A piece of hull, carved from a distant ship, advertising a 'Carelia's Carefree Cryosleep,' perhaps now the only evidence left that Carelia had ever existed. A holographic news piece about a new FTL lane from some other world, thirty-six ago, that scrolled when someone ran their finger in front of it. More like these, salvaged from across the sector, were left everywhere. No two were the same. Everything put together carefully, deliberately. Tried once and twice and thrice and again, with love and care. It was like stepping into a child's hideout. It was like stepping into a museum. It lacked the careless shape of a place made as a trophy. It wasn't a vacuous monument, made to be admired. It was made to be touched. To be stained by a laughing child, tripping with food in their hand. To be scuffed by the feet of someone, propping up their shoes on somewhere they shouldn't. For the lowdrone of everyday conversation to hum through the air. To have a soul. Nobody lived here. Dysnomia was hard to miss--at the foot of the stairs, just outside the airlock, she paced. She looked...Better? It was hard to tell. Like she was having trouble drawing inside the lines of her own skin. Smoke trailed behind her feet and hands, and her hair floated airily behind her. It could almost have been elegant, if it weren't Dysnomia. As it was, she was too...Frantic? Her steps were rapid, her fingers tapping at a holographic screen in front of her. When the first step sounded, she swung toward its source, and made a final tap on her screen, coming to a stop beside a door. "So, you're here." She exhaled, arms crossed. What did they think? how were they feeling? Were they going to enjoy themselves? All questions she pretended she didn't care for. Pretended until it ached. The way her eyes darting restlessly from visitor to visitor betrayed her outward facade of indifference. "Welcome to my ship."
Kukuru	Waiting besides Dysnomia, for reasons that might both be immediately clear and completely unclear at the same time, is Kukuru! She's not dressed in her usual frilly clothes or casual jacket for once, though, but is instead done up like she's working at a fancy party: Straightened hair instead of the usual mess, a crisp buttoned shirt with a small bow tie, a closed vest and matching slacks, and even some fancy dark red gloves that match the stains on her apron that's protecting the rest of her outfit. She'd almost look like a consummate professional if she wasn't humming and smiling gleefully as Dysnomia greets those coming in. "I'm sure they'll love it, dear. You did a really great job even before calling me here." She reassures, only resisting the urge to tousle Dysnomia's floating hair because of how it's floating (and also whatever's on her gloves). "I think everything shooould be... Ready, mhm. There should be enough for everyone, too, unless we have more than... Ten?" She guesses, counting off her fingers and murmuring incoherently to herself. She might also be over-estimating whatever it is she's talking about.
Angela	Well, at least Angela doesn't have to worry about this seeming too out of place for what she's used to. Using the transiever that Dysnomia has provided, two forms crackle into being on the Lindorm--taking the form of translucent holographic constructs. Angela is seethrough, but also non-chibified like she has typically been when telecommuting off campus. Gebura's sense of self still seems to be her humanoid form as well, wearing a black coat, shirt, and slacks. Gebura, like her cognition filtered form, also has numerous scars across her face (as well as her arms, which is apparent when Gebura removes the jacket and flexes an arm experimentally like she's getting used to it. "Huh. Weird feeling." Gebura says. Angela quietly makes her way to wall and just looks at the alien sights from there. It felt similar to Robotnik's equivalent technology but she hasn't really touched anything yet. Instead, there's this frankly beautiful dance of strange microbes dancing in the wind. ... ah, there's no wind. Hm. Her eyes settle on the red X. And then her eyes turn towards Dysnomia down by the foot of the stairs, staring at her. "Thnak you for your hospitality." Angela says. Gebura does a quick handstand on one finger. "Pretty responsive... Been a while since I had real fingers." She rolls back up to her feet. "Hey. You." She is talking to Kukuru and walking straight towards her. She raises her hand and then pokes Kukuru in the nose. And then in the cheek. "Huh...!" Gebura says, lowering her hand and explaining nothing and not even saying thank you, instead turning to Dysnomia. "Was worried this was some kind of security risk so came along. seems legit so far."
Rita Ma	Looking in the mirror is scary, but Rita's getting better at it. What should she wear? Or rather, what should she be? She grows a tentacle from her back and slides it over her body, imitating a rolling slice of 'clothes' as it moves. It'd be so easy to look 'normal' again. Why does that idea make me feel weird? Everyone's been so happy just to see me. Would they really be less happy if I 'dressed up' a little? She's never heard of being fashionably late, so she frets until the clock forces her hand. - - - - From the top of the stairs, Rita's sandals come into view; then her organic white dress, knee-length with long sleeves; then a handful of delicate tendrils sprouting from her back to twine around her arms and waist like a belt and sapphire jewelry; then her uncertainly sunny smile, and finally the woven straw hat with a black-and-white flower in it. It must be one of the ones growing on the island. "Hi, Ms. Mia," she says with a shy look and shyer wave. Her head tilts like she's trying half-heartedly to hide behind her own hair. "Thank you so much. I hope the guest-list is okay. I'm not really sure if I was meant to bring anything, but... what was that 'testing' you mentioned?" Seeing Angela crackle into existence makes her brighten up. Seeing Gebura gives her equal delight and a lot more surprise. She rushes over to try and hug the redhead first, arms thrown around her waist. "Oh, Ms. Gebura!! And Ms. Angela! Oh, and..." She looks down through Gebura's body at Kukuru. And then finally processes that she's looking down at Kukuru, from her lofty new height of about five seven. "Ms. Kukuru? What happened?"
Father Berislav	A silver hulk in the vague shape of a human travels through space. Its gleaming hull reflects a field of stars and a red, trash-ringed planet, warped across a hard, lethal, angular profile. The distant shapes of celestial bodies stretching across the mech's body are broken twice; once by a 'ribcage' of sorts, black and seamless, and once by a red canvas cloak, which billows very slightly, very faintly, as particulate matter accumulates and pushes ever so gently against it. A cyclopic red optic sensor, set within an inhuman, hammer-shaped head, sweeps down as the mech approaches the Lindorm for the second time. Gravity sets in, three-pronged feet heavily meet unadorned metal. It couldn't be more clear that this thing, in shape and size and function, is a weapon of war; a caricature of a human body warped in such ways as would allow it to be an implement of a far-away will. The mantle falls slack, and its name is briefly revealed, etched upon the hem in gold--ISAIAH 3:14. The pilot emerges from those matte black ribs, opening like jaws to reveal him. He wears an unadorned black space suit, the visor of his helmet reflecting faint images of the derelict's makeshift landing bay. He knows the way--this isn't his first visit, as aforementioned. He drifts, until gravity demands he walk; his helmet remains on, until atmosphere allows it to be shed. Either the soft hiss of depressurization or the click of his sleek spacesuit's boots alert the others to his presence. With his helmet tucked under one arm, he sheds the spacesuit and hangs both upon a rack in the entryway. Underneath is not a cassock, but a brown-gold diamante pattern button-up, tucked into navy slacks and matched with light blue loafers. A golden choker works with the slightly unbuttoned shirt to draw attention to his neckline and collarbone. His white hair is unbound, falling loosely about his shoulders. "It's good to be back," the priest says to Dysnomia, with a warm smile, turning to face her after hanging his spacesuit and helmet up. "Thank you for having me--and I love what you've done since last time." Quietly conspiratorial, "I brought you a little housewarming gift--I can leave it on my way out." Was worried this was some kind of security risk so came along. seems legit so far. Berislav's silver eyes twinkle with amusement--but also fondness. "And thank -you- for your concern," he says, and means, sincerely. Whether it's for Rita, or for Angela, or even for both. "Gebura, isn't it?" A hand is extended towards her. "I'm Father Waters Berislav. It's nice to meet you." Rita and Dysnomia have known him the longest, and can see the fatigue in his silver eyes, which he tries to drown out with warmth; the occasional worry that he mostly succeeds in smothering by purposeful glances around the ship. Angela gets a knowing smile--a sort of 'I knew it' that isn't spoken, but isn't at all the bad sort of 'I knew it.' "Hello, Rita. I'm so very glad to see you. My, goodness, how you've grown," he says, like a doting distant relative. "After everything I've heard about your world and its struggles, to see you on the other side of those struggles is a great relief."
Dysnomia	"Oh please," she rolled her eyes at Kukuru. "I'm not worried." But even Kukuru could tell how hollow that was. She still couldn't keep her eyes from flittering to the entrances. The only person she was managing to convince was herself. As people began to filter in, her eyes scanned. Small crowd? Should she have invited more? No, she didn't want anyone to come. It was just a test. Would they have fun? It didn't matter! That's not what this was for. That's not what this was for. That's not... For a moment, Mia froze at Rita's mention of a test, groping in that moment of any actual solid thing she wanted to actual experiment with that wouldn't sound hollow, though perhaps only Angela could see the process of her searching for an excuse writ on her face. It was her reaction to Gebura that both saved her from the question, and gave her something she could use as an answer. "That's one." She said, pointing a thumb at Gebura's flickering form. "Looks like it's working fine." She coughed awkwardly into her hand. Was worried this was some kind of security risk so came along. seems legit so far." "Smart." She mused. "I'd want to double-check too, if it were me." She turned around, beginning to tap at a pad by the door behind her. "Thank you for having me--and I love what you've done since last time." Just like that, more excuses came to her. "New floors. New rooms. Meal fabricator--but that's off, today--real is better--a large residential area should be working, now, nevermind my workshop. Did my best to salvage some of those holographic records--one hell of a pain to fix. Data restoration isn't usually my gig." "You have full run of the place." Dysnomia gestured, as the door slid into teh wall with a sharp HISS sound. "Had her make something so no one would have to go hungry." Her head inclined toward Kukuru. "Go in, get a plate, take it wherever you want." The door slid open to a short hall, splitting down the middle. At one side, a cozy sitting room, with wine glasses laid out on the table and a small assortment of red wines, ready to be poured. Above the other, some piece of hull had been carved out from some wreck, saying MESS HALL . Tables had been croweded together for trays of food that wouldn't have been out of place in a cafeteria...if a somewhat nice cafeteria. More relics of wrecks lined the walls. As the centerpiece was a screen, a nebula exploding outward from a central point--what people in the know might call the Cats-eye Nebula. If they could pick out the details well enough, see it clearly enough, they might notice that was it changing--no, not just changing. It was a live feed.
Kukuru	Seeing Angela outside of the facility in a form that isn't the Eggpack or attached to something else is still pretty novel for Kukuru. It could just be that she hasn't actually seen her via transceiver yet, but it's still new enough that her excitement and energy levels visibly jump up a bit just from seeing her and Gebura coming by. "Oh, Angie~ Gebura~ I'm so glad you two came by, too..." She calls out and quiets down like she's fighting off a yawn, actually fighting it instead of just letting it out the way she usually does. The pokes to the face, of course, get her to break composure enough to giggle and pat Gebura's hand in return. "Are things going okay back home? I haven't heard of anything happening lately, but I still gotta make sure you're all doing okay with all that." Rita being nearby, of course, has her brightening up further as well, and she doesn't even notice the starker height difference now compared to when they had both met again on the island. Although Kukuru's an inch taller than she was back then, she's still a good three inches shorter than usual, her limbs are still missing some of their usual volume, and she can still see her feet just by looking straight down. Nevertheless, she answers Rita's question with her usual grace and clarity (and physical clinginess via hugging and just a bit of attempted affectionate lifting). "Ritaaaa~ Ah, I've been working a little harder than usual. I'm building back up better, though, so I'll be all better soon." She affirms with a quick nod, then lets out a little joyous squeak while circling around Rita. "Oh, it's so good to see you again...! You look wonderful, dear. Are you eating enough? What about Kana and Bota? Do you need any extra shampoo or other stuff brought over?" Berislav's arrival doesn't get quite the same reaction from Kukuru as Angela, Gebura, or Rita did, as it's noticeably more/at all professional as she clears her throat and dips into a light bow at the waist. She needs to get some practice of that in, after all, although her usual friendly tone still comes through all the same once she hears the way he speaks to Rita. "He-llo, Beri! Oh. Waters~" She repeats 'Waters' to herself in different tones a few times before raising an eyebrow curiously. "Which one do you like more? I don't think we've talked much before, have we? Ah, but if you're a friend of Mia and Rita, then..." She gives him one more nod, then a firm thumbs up before turning to Dysnomia with a broad smile. "So far, so good~" Kukuru says without elaborating, perhaps as another attempt to reassure Mia before taking that signal to hold her arm out sideways towards the mess hall like a proper butler would. "Mhm! Right this way, de-ah. Esteemed guests~" The giggling kind of breaks that illusion right away, but her posture's actually way better now than it usually is. She even does the whole taking-coats and pulling-out-chairs thing to get everyone nice and ready for the meal to come.
Kukuru	Today's appetizers: Spring rolls, filled with shrimp and salted minced vegetables, ensuring a light crisp on the outside and a heartier crunch on the inside. Chicken wings, glazed and fried in a dry pepper and salt batter. Although they're relatively normal fare at most restaurants, these have a little extra touch and care given to their preparation to make the skin on both is extra crispy without feeling like they're steeped in grease. There's a hint of sweetness on the wings, too, like there was an attempt at a Korean fried chicken joint's honey soy flavoring despite the lack of anything dark brown or soy-based to the sauce. The first tray is clearly intended to be the star of the food show: Sashimi utilizing the bio luminescent orange flesh of the fish from the Nine Moons. The fish itself is the star of the day, of course, with raw and still-glowing slices carefully and draped over each carefully-shaped clump of rice before being secured by a thin strip of seaweed. There's also some fish-only pieces arranged along the sides, perhaps set up in consideration of those with zero-carb diets, or that just don't want to fill up on rice. This is probably where the most photogenic of the meat went, but without skimping on quantity. The second tray is considerably more conventional, but prepared with no less care than the others: It's the same fish, but cut into significantly larger fillets, all arranged atop a bed of steamed eggs. The whole thing is topped with chopped scallions, ginger slivers, and finely minced garlic with a sweet soy sauce on the side. This is probably where the majority of the actual meat went. The third tray is clearly intended for the more adventurous types, taking advantage of how much non-flesh that's still left even after making the previous dish: A black pudding made from the fish's already-steaming blood and other organs to make use of every part of the fish. Shallots, butter, and various other spices are present to add both richness and to cut through the actual fishiness of it all, and it's lightly fried for a crispier, yet not too greasy texture. No dinner would be complete without side salads, of course, and these are... Well, the usual side salads. The ingredients are fresh and otherwise pretty standard aside from being washed extra carefully, but it's a side salad. It's an excuse to say that the meal was nutritionally balanced even when it clearly isn't.
Angela	Angela looks towarda Berislav, raising an eyebrow. "Pardon me? ... You seem exhausted, Father Berislav." She seems complicated to see him. Gebura shakes Berislav's hand and her eyes narrow faintly. "You why I keep hearing whispers about Unionizing? Hoping it doesn't result in trouble. But yeah. Gebura." But she is wholly distracted by the arrival of Rita wrapping her arms around her waist. She raises up an arm to wrap around Rita's back instinctively then brings that hand up to rest briefly on Rita's head. She's taller for sure but Gebura is still taller by a few inches. "You got bigger," Gebura says and, yes, does a bit of a hair ruffle. "Handling the new perspective alright?" She smiles, if a bit awkwardly. She has forgotten how to hide her feelings as a human. She'd have to get back in the practice of it. "Miss Rita, a pleasure as always." Angela doesn not move to poke Rita's cheek or nose even though her left hand opening and closing signals the desire. "Dysnomia asked me to test something and Gebura insisted to come along for security purposes." "...Back at the facility? Just normal shit." Gebura answers though a grimace from Angela suggests a different story. At first Angela is apathetic to the talk of food but even she can't help but admire the aesthetic construction of the meals Kukuru lovingly crafted. Angela takes a moment to just breathe it in. She wonders how it'd taste--And she knows she'll have to keep wondering. Even Gebura will, because she's telecommuting. She isn't solid enough to eat but her expression shows shock at the extravagant display all the same. Eventually Angela turns to look at the nebula, eyes slanting towards Dysnomia periodically. Eventually she approaches Mia and whispers into her ear, leaning in as she does so. "I know your secret," Angela says softly before turning baxk to the nebula. Meanwhile Gebura adds, "Can you eat any of this, Rita?" She pauses. "Uh, listen...Judging from what happened with everyone else it's likely I'm the, uh, next Meltdown..."
Rita Ma	The warm 'mmm' that the hair-ruffling coaxes from Rita is truly heartrending. Her cheek squishes against Gebura's holographic body as the brim of her straw hat pushes up, and her eyes shut in total relaxation. "I guess I did get taller. I'm still not used to it at all," she admits with a dollop of embarrassment. She peeks at Angela through Gebura's see-through jacket, smiles, and holds out her hand to squeeze. "To... any of this. It's so strange. I don't know how to put it into words." Kukuru, in circling around behind Rita, gets a couple of delicate tendrils looping around her arms or shoulders to affectionately squeeze. When Rita finally pulls away from Gebura, she joins them with her arms. "Mmmm! As long as you're taking care of yourself too, Ms. Kukuru," she says, like a hypocrite. And then, suddenly embarrassed again: "Yeah. We're okay. Kana and Bota... were always really understanding about what I need." As she walks through the door to the 'MESS HALL', she looks over to Berislav with an anxiously doted-on smile and folded hands. "It's good to see you again too. Um, you heard about all that? I don't know if I'd say I'm 'on the other side'. A lot is better now, thanks to everyone, and it'll keep getting better, but... isn't there always more work to do?" Though Rita graciously passes on the appetizers, the first dish immediately gets her kicking her little legs under the table with impatient delight. "Oh! Ms. Kukuru, this looks amazing! You really are the best. I should've brought something too, but..." She doesn't have much time to wax guilty. Rita's hungry, as always, and the just-slightly-messily-ravenous way she tosses sashimi into her mouth with her chopsticks is absolutely adorable! By the second tray, she's finally slowing down enough to talk again. "Mmmm. Um, Ms. Gebura," she says while a tentacle-held napkin dabs at her lips to wipe off orange blood, "what's a Meltdown? It sounds bad. If you know it's coming, can't you just stop it from happening?"
Father Berislav	Berislav's eyes alight with interest, his brow lifting similarly. "Really? You have been busy. Thank you, again, for inviting us here to enjoy it." His head dips forward in appreciation of Mia's hospitality. Pardon me? ... You seem exhausted, Father Berislav. A short little laugh escapes Berislav, honest and a little guilty. "Our... previous outing took a lot out of me," he admits. "But I wasn't going to miss this for the world." You why I keep hearing whispers about Unionizing? Hoping it doesn't result in trouble. Berislav meets Gebura's narrowed eyes with conversational calm in his--but in them there is cold, unmelting purpose, on naked display for someone as experienced as Gebura. 'They do not know how to do right,' declares the Lord, 'who store up in their fortresses what they have plundered and looted.' Berislav smiles pleasantly, and nods. "I am, and I strongly believe it will lead to exactly the opposite, if addressed in good faith--but we can get to realpolitik some other time. Today, let's break bread together instead." Which one do you like more? "'Waters' is fine, if you're not the formal type," he answers. "We've spoken once or twice, aside from an unfortunate engagement against one another." Angie Green, with Liza--the worker's co-op. "It's my great privilege to know Rita and Dysnomia. I understand you've provided food for this little gathering? Please accept my thanks for that, and for your friendship with Rita and our host." Again, another little head-dip, before he enters through the indicated door into the mess hall. "Oh, my goodness, Kukuru," he says, spotting the scope of the spread prepared. "You must really have a passion for cooking, hm? And no shortage of fondness for these two. Gracious, is that black pudding I see?" He opts for a spring roll, a few pieces of sashimi, a side salad, and of course, a little of that blood pudding. Before he digs in, a moment of not-quite silence, sat at his chair with his eyes closed. Berislav softly, quietly sings a hymn to himself, palms pressed together, fingers interlaced. "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; praise Him, all creatures here below; praise Him above, ye heavenly host; praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." Clearing his throat, he answers: Isn't there always more work to do? "There is, yes," he says, between bites of spring roll. "And there is fulfillment and happiness to be found in the fruits thereof, just as much as in the work itself. I'll be watching, fondly, to see what you, your friends and loved ones build, now that you have the room to. And if you ever need an extra hand, I'm a phone call away." "This is delicious, Kukuru," asides the priest, before turning back to Rita. "How are you feeling, as of late, Rita?"
Rita Ma	"How are you feeling, as of late, Rita?" Rita's happy-kicking legs still. She takes a second to chew and swallow. "Um, good, of course," she says. "I'm so happy to be back with Kana and Bota-- um, my family, Mr. Berislav. Everyone's been nice to me. And it's a little easier to believe I deserve it, now. But I feel strange too." Her chopstick taps her plate. For a second it seems like she might be done talking. But: "... There's an ache in my chest. I feel lost, and sort of dumb. I'm happy. But I gave up a lot of the things I thought I'd need to be happy. Or to be me. I don't think I'm even a tiny bit human, now." "So did I never need those things, and I was just stupid? Or did I outgrow them somehow? And if I outgrew them... who should I be, now, since I'm not that anymore?" Her smile tightens, but her eyes don't raise. "I'm sorry, Mr. Berislav. That's probably sort of silly, now that I say it out loud."
Dysnomia	She did her best to shrug off Berislav's praise. "It's a hobby," she excused. "Just good someone can finally see it." "I know your secret," A look of panic laced over her expression, before she could manage to stop it, as she tried to put together which secret, exactly. Her eyes followed Angela's gaze to the nebula, and drew a conclusion. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not, but at least she wasn't panicked. But, really. It was hard to keep sulking when she saw Rita's reaction. Her joy was infectious...Literally. She couldn't help but take some sashimi for herself. "This was a deep space fish, from the edge of the inner ranar system, where Ran's light is real dim." She taps her plate. "All from one animal. It uses its lure to try to hypnotize smaller fish from the asteroid belt, draw them out where it can get them. Not like your whales, and their cute little gravity wells." "I brought it. But Kukuru figured out how to cook it." Put the right person in the right place at the right time, and everything would fall into place. And for this, Kukuru had clearly been the right person.
Kukuru	Kukuru doesn't have to hear Angela or Gebura saying anything about the food to guess what they're feeling just from their expressions. It truly was a labor of love, after all, and seeing even that much of a reaction from them solidifies exactly what she's going to do for them one day, after all the work is done. For now, though, she'll have to settle with beaming at their reactions. Rita's hug with those extra tendrils gets Kukuru to start giggling inadvertently, both out of that raw hit of elation hitting her and also quite a bit of ticklishness. "I am, mhm. I've been eating more, sleeping more, and even practicing some other stuff on days off. Aah... I wonder what kind of hobbies you three'll find now that you're together again...!" Fighting back another squeal of secondhand joy, Kukuru completely forgets to get her professional face back on as she turns to Berislav when he answers her. Her expression wavers for just a moment when he brings up their previous battle, but she gets it together quickly enough to brush that off with a gentle laugh. "Waaaters.. Okay! Ah, that's normal for our kind of work, so don't feel too bad. Besides, you're a friend of Rita and Mia, so that means you can be a friend, too. Or more, because Rita's already family, so you're all welcome to become part of mine whenever you like~" Everyone's reactions to the food, naturally, have Kukuru's face starting to turn red while her chest puffs up just a bit. A lot, actually, but still not to the usual level. She even has to cover her face for a moment as Mia starts praising her, too, shaking a bit and muffling a quiet noise into her hands before finally getting it together enough to respond. "Oh, Miaaaa...! Plenty of people could cook something up like this, but she did the hard work of finding the really special ingredients and bringing them all together. They really were neat to work with, too, because of the funny glow and the size of the meat... Nothing like the fish I usually get to work with. I just helped put the pieces together, that's all~" Still feeling her face burning, Kukuru rests a palm against her cheek while grinning a little stupidly at Rita. "Oh, don't worry about that. You always cook up so much great food for everyone, so you should have a chance to relax and eat without worrying, too! It was such a cute glowy fish, too, which really helped make the dishes extra cute, too." She nods at Berislav, looking particularly proud when he asks about the black pudding. "Mhm! Cooking's something that my parents taught me about waaay back, and... It's something I really like, because it brings everyone together. Making the stuff, knowing that everyone'll be able to enjoy it together at the table, being able to teach it to your kids one day..." She's starting to get lost in her own little world already.
Angela	Gebura says, "Take your steps one at a time. Will be second nature in no time." Angela reaches out and gives Rita's hand a squeeze. And then shakes it experimentally. And then she nods once as an expression of gratitude. "Thank you. Please do not allow us to keep you from your meal--" She might indeed be intent to pour a glass of wine so she can hold onto it and enjoy the sound of it, maybe even hold it up to her nose like she's smelling it even though she isn't--but she is distracted by what Gebura says--and what Rita asks--slowing her departure. Angela is not, unfortunately, talking about the Nebula but she also isn't saying what the secret is. Maybe she didn't even notice a secret and just said it to tease Mia a little bit. There's only one way to bee certain, but Angela isn't piping in about it in mixed (non Dysnomia) company. "Quite the wine selection," Angela says, moving to sit down before she thinks about how to comment on it. Gebura is a little stunned so she has a moment. Angela is also distracted by thinking on just how positive and kind Rita seems--much unlike her. But not for as long. "A Meltdown, Rita, is when one of our Sephirah has a bit of a mental break and causes problems for the facility. We use this 'break' to refine the Enkephalin that we rely on for the Seed of Light project." She pours some red wine into the glass and then toasts Kukuru's hard work. Perhaps Kukuru does try to solve all problems by preparing a meal but that just means she's gotten very good at preparing meals. Not wholly wasted effort, she thinks. "It is likely that Gebura will be next. I imagine she is attempting to preemptively apologize because she has pattern recognition." "...Ah shaddup," Gebura says sullenly before looking to Berislav. "...Faith huh." Gebura says like the word is alien to her. "Sure, no problem." She turns her head back to Rita, watching her eat. "...So yeah, I'm not really gonna be able to stop me." She rubs the back of her neck. "...Sorry."
Father Berislav	It is incredibly tempting to press the advantage with Mia, to break past her guard with more praise. Something about the way she deflects it tells him that she isn't used to it--at least not this particular context. He doesn't indulge, today, instead fixing her with a warm smile as he passes. I'm sorry, Mr. Berislav. That's probably sort of silly, now that I say it out loud. The priest smiles and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Berislav. That's probably sort of silly, now that I say it out loud. Would it surprise you at all, if I said I knew just how you feel?" he asks, elaborating after finishing his spring roll. "About having given up what you thought you'd need to be 'you.'" "It's a bit like... working in freight, let's say; your hauler has only so much room at any given point. That box labeled 'survival' doesn't take up as much space in your trailer, anymore. Now, there's room for other things. I've often wondered, myself, what I can do with the space I have available." 'Limited' seems implied by the tone, where his own space is concerned. His chopsticks find a piece of sashimi on his plate, guiding it to his mouth. "Mm..." He likes it! "For my part, I think it's the latter. The Rita of last year was doing her best, just like the Rita the year before her. It's just as important to be kind to her as it is to be kind to the Rita here with us. It's not that she was 'stupid,' by any means, any more than an amateur musician is 'stupid' compared to a teacher. She just didn't have as much practice as you." Cooking's something that my parents taught me about waaay back, and... It's something I really like, because it brings everyone together. "It does, doesn't it? That's an admirable reason for learning the craft." Another piece of sashimi lifted by his chopsticks later, he adds-- We use this 'break' to refine the Enkephalin that we rely on for the Seed of Light project. Nothing. A complete change of conversational tack. "I see," says Berislav, even though Angela was speaking to Rita. "That would be the reason for your hesitance, regarding my visits." Namely--she'd said that he was a good man, and might be barred, at some point, for the objections a good man might raise. He nods, his tone even. "What is it that this project promises, that could be worth the cost to the Sephirah and the Agents, if you don't mind my asking?"
Rita Ma	"More practice at being Rita," she echoes from Berislav, and frowns thoughtfully while taking the napkin from her sky-blue tendril. "I don't feel better at it. It feels harder than ever. But I guess that is how getting better feels sometimes. You realize how far you still have to go." She smiles sideways at him, around her falling side-locks. "It's hard to imagine you having any empty space. You've been working really hard lately, haven't you, Mr. Berislav? Would you like to talk about it?" As an afterthought, she remembers 'no hats at the table', and stows hers in her lap. Her fingers anxiously pick at the straw weave until she serves herself some more raw fish. Little bits of uneaten rice are starting to accrue on her plate, but that's fine. "I think Bota's getting into beekeeping," she says belatedly, to Kukuru's question about hobbies. With a sheepish look: "And Kana wants me to teach her to cook. She's really enthusiastic, but... it always seems like she's 'punishing' the food. I can never get her to go easy on it. Maybe you could help, too?" "I brought it. But Kukuru figured out how to cook it." "So, it's like you're hunting sea-monsters too," Rita says to Mia with almost dreamy approval. "You're really cool. And I love how you've decorated here, too. The 'pollen' was to make me feel at home, wasn't it? And all the little trinkets mean something to you, I bet. I collect little things like that too. It must be so cozy for you here." Then, a moment later, she looks between Angela and Gebura with obvious bewildered anxiety. "Oh. So... even though you know it's coming, it can't be avoided? Because it's necessary?" Her face scrunches in dawning sympathetic pain. "You don't need to say sorry for something you can't control, Ms. Gebura. Is it anything I can help? I mean, would you want me to be there? You've done so much to help me, so..." Her tendrils curl in on themselves and squirm. They're astonishingly expressive.
Dysnomia	"So, it's like you're hunting sea-monsters too...The 'pollen' was to make me feel at home, wasn't it?" Dysnomia almost choked halfway through a bite, only stopping when she forced herself to remember that she didn't actually need to breathe. She took her time to wipe her mouth... but Rita kept on launching missle after innocent missle through her defenses. "I can, sure..." She babbled a little, off-balance. "But I am--I was--mostly backline support--I usually didn't engage with the frontlines." She was having an even harder time keeping the rest of herself inside her skin. She managed to regain a little of her composure, looking at the scattered trinkets around her. "...It's sad." She settles on, looking over them. "I find them, floating in space, in these wrecks. What are their stories? Where did they come from? Who made them?" "We'll never know. They're probably dead, you know." A wisp of something corrected an old photograph of humanoids in a huddle, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, signatures written across it. "They're part of a history that can never be again, gone forever." "But. The thought of that fading too. Of them spending forever floating in space, in the dark, in wrecks that would never be seen again..." "...That. That seemed even worse."
Kukuru	Angela bringing up the wine selection reminds Kukuru to get a glass for herself. She's a little shakier about pouring it than she is with serving food, although she still manages to do it without spilling any! Toasting her own cooking is still somewhat embarrassing, though, so she settles for raising her own glass wordlessly and grinning like an idiot behind it. One day. She'll have to find out what Angela would like to try first, and she's committed now. "...So yeah, I'm not really gonna be able to stop me." "...Sorry." That gets Kukuru to sober up just a bit (figuratively), though, and she finally starts eating as well while there's a chance to do so (favoring the black sausage). "It's usually pretty messy when it happens, but not because of any fault of..." She can't quite finish that sentence because she doesn't know for sure. Even though the deeper aspects are still a mystery to her and perhaps always will be, she does have a lesser version of Gebura's pattern recognition ability and has to wonder about how much could be blamed on the Manager. On the Sephirah. On... "It's important work Angie and Gebura and everyone's doing with them. I-it'll all be worth it in the end." She affirms, perhaps more to herself than to Mia, Rita, or Berislav. Thinking any further than that might be too painful for her. "That's an admirable reason for learning the craft." Berislav enjoying the sashimi and speaking well of her motives for cooking, though, are enough to get Kukuru to perk right back up. It's pretty easy to do that, if today's dinner has been any indication. "It's important to learn, mhm! And teach, too, since once everything's finally perfect... We can turn weapons into pans and stuff instead! Aaand... Meat processing machines." Clearly, she will never be a vegetarian. "I think Bota's getting into beekeeping, And Kana wants me to teach her to cook. She's really enthusiastic, but... it always seems like she's 'punishing' the food. I can never get her to go easy on it. Maybe you could help, too?" "Bota must be even braver than I thought, then... Getting stung is so scary, you know?" Kukuru shivers briefly, then shoves a piece of sausage into her face while giggling at the mental image Rita gives her about Kana's cooking. "Maybe what could help is... Did she ever try cooking something besides fish? Yeah, I can come by whenever you'd like~" Once again, that gleam returns. "We can try all kinds of different recipes, see what everyone likes in flavors and textures, find new ingredients in the water... Oh! We could even wear matching aprons, and gloves, and..." She could really do this all day, if not for the fact that she also has a front row seat to seeing Dysnomia getting caught up in Rita's innocence vortex as well. Kukuru giggles softly to herself and takes a sip of the wine, sighing contently while listening to Dysnomia talking about those trinkets. "The thought of that fading too. Of them spending forever floating in space, in the dark, in wrecks that would never be seen again..." "...That. That seemed even worse." Kukuru closes her eyes for a moment, takes yet another sip of her wine, then shuffles her seat closer. After setting the empty glass down, she gets close enough to throw her arms around Mia a moment later, humming softly as she just sort of rubs her head forward, making sure to keep her horns out of the way for safety. "I'm sure they appreciate it, dear. Much.. Much more than you know."
Angela	Angela says, "Beekeeping! ...Hmm, I would have said that was unexpected but the more I think about it, the more the occupation suits him." ''But... it always seems like she's 'punishing' the food.'' Angela looks to Gebura. Gebura glares back at her before nodding to Mia. "Yeah, you put a lot of thought into the setup here. It's very considerate.")] "Ah," Angela clucks her tongue. "It seems it is not very secret after all." "What?" "Nothing." Angela's attention is drawn to Berislav after and she (fake) breathes in like she's going to answer him but then she kind of stalls on it--it's less a matter of security for her and more a kind of apathy towards the goal. Her eyes slant towards Gebura but Gebura doesn't immediately answer for other reasons. "...Can feel it. Something's off. That creeping into your everything slowly ... And you know it's comin'." Gebura struggles to explain. "Not like I don't have pattern recognition anyway." ''Is it anything I can help?'' "I was actually gonna suggest--" Angela interrupts. "Of course you can help, Rita." She says. "If you have any questions about the facility I will be happy to talk to you about it. In the meantime..." She turns to Berislav to finally answer him. "You may ask of course but the short of it is that they are hoping it will change the state of The City into one that is more equitable." She toasts the idea, almost sarcastically, with Dynomia's wine. Speaking of Mia, she loooks towards the photograph. She thinks of that trip out to that poor boy in the mech who asked to not be buried under the wrong name. She can't comment on it directly. She felt infringing enough when it was the Metamorphs. "We may not share a history, Dysnomia, but we can still share a future if you'll allow us. And if you wish to share tales--we can carry them too so that 'gone forever' is a little less gone.")] Gebura just kind of avoids looking at anyone for a while. "It'll be me at my worst, Rita." Angela smiles thinly at Kukuru's own words. "Assigning blame is meaningless in the facility," She agrees. "But it will not be pleasant, Rita, that is true. And you may smell a fair amount of blood." She feels like she's understating it a bit but the whole mission is relying on Lilian Rook to counter Gebura--so maybe it won't be so bad.
Father Berislav	Would you like to talk about it? Berislav considers it with a thoughtful frown, his chopsticks hovering over a little blood sausage. "I would, actually," he says. "Another time, but yes. I think it would be helpful for the both of us." And teach, too, since once everything's finally perfect... We can turn weapons into pans and stuff instead! "My," Berislav notes, his free hand placed over his heart in a gesture of surprise. "Have you been reading the scripture on your own?" ...It's sad. "It is," agrees the priest, his white locks bouncing slightly as he nods. "But you've made sure that they're not forgotten, touched them across space and time with an act of love, and I think that's beautiful." Angela and Gebura don't answer at first. Berislav's chopsticks scrape across the plate for another piece of sausage. His frown is that of someone staring over the horizon at hard work to come. Not eager, excited, or pleased, but neither resigned; rather, quietly determined. Angela's eventual answer breaks this expression, replacing it with one of mild, but not at all displeased surprise. "Then," he says, his plate now clean, "I suppose, for such a steep price, I'm hoping the same." There are things that your station likely disallows. Restrictions placed on your reach, and your grasp. I'll find where they lie, and extend my hand, too.
Rita Ma	Rita looks between Angela and Gebura uncertainly, balancing their two different prongs of discouragement; her lips twitch where she was about to bite into some more raw fish. She finally sets it down, putting manners over hunger, and picks Gebura to speak to. "You've already seen me at my worst, Gebura. If you really don't want me to see it, if you think it'd change how I look at you... well, I was wrong about that before. But I'd respect it. If you're only worried about imposing, though, please don't." It might be the most 'mature' she's ever sounded. That gentle knowing smile afterwards is almost just like Lisa's. Then she takes that bite of fish, and her face lights up and legs kick like a kid on a swingset again, and it's gone completely. "Mmmm, is beekeeping really scary?" she says innocently to Kukuru, while helping herself to a third serving. "The big suits help a lot with that, I've heard. And they've never stung me!" What a funny coincidence. "You're really smart, though! I bet she'd do better with land-food. Maybe... something you can dice up, then cook for a really really long time?" Oh dear. How bad is Kana? A little while passes in companionable silence. Rita hasn't touched the wine; you'd think she'd get thirsty, but evidently not. But when Kukuru seizes Mia for doting, she piles on with a little laugh: "So it's like everything here is something you've rescued! Even the ship itself, right? And I thought I was sweet, just adopting a few whales. Your heart is big enough for allllll this." Her hand-cupped smile is immacutely sweet, and her eyes are so so mean.
Dysnomia	"Stop." Dysnomia hissed, trying to push Kukuru away from her with an outstretched hand. But if she was trying for imposing, it really wasn't getting across, leaning half out of her seat to get away from Kukuru's hold and STILL not quite managing it. "Damn you." "Yeah, you put a lot of thought into the setup here. It's very considerate..." "...It seems it is not very secret after all." "It's a HOBBY," Dysnomia scoffed, but her attempt to deflect was ruined somewhat by her ongoing (failed) attempt to keep Kukuru from doting on her. "Read into it at your own peril!" Ah yes. The seaweed and pollon that Rita had so loved. The wine whose sound that Angela so loved to hear pour. The food so perfectly prepared for Rita's dietary needs. All of it, nothing. Smoke curled sullenly around Mia as she seethed, accusations of affection making her bristle like a cat being promised a bath. "So it's like everything here is something you've rescued! Even the ship itself, right? And I thought I was sweet, just adopting a few whales. Your heart is big enough for allllll this." Dysnomia attempted to spit out an answer for about five minutes, but all she managed were a few incomprehensible sounds. At last, she managed a low growl, struggling not to sound defeated. Her eyes turned down to the floor. "...I hate you all." This, too, was a lie.
Kukuru	"Assigning blame is meaningless in the facility," "But it will not be pleasant, Rita, that is true. And you may smell a fair amount of blood." Kukuru's feeling pretty good about getting things right for once! She's always in need of little ego boosts like that, even if she knows there's so much more she doesn't know yet. "That's right... Oh. But if we're worried about the smell, then maybe..." Kukuru pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. She hums briefly at first, then claps her hands together with her usual lazy smile returning. "I can bring something tastier ahead of time." "My, Have you been reading the scripture on your own?" That gets a confused noise out of Kukuru at first, then a quick shake of her head. "Nope! The last book I read was..." She drones a bit after that, letting the sound hang a bit in the hopes that she might come up with something in a few seconds. This goes on for nearly ten seconds before she snaps her fingers. "A brochure at the job fair!" "Mmmm, is beekeeping really scary?" "Only the stinging part. Getting hit by a rock isn't as scary as a bunch of tiny needles flying..." Kukuru explains with a light shiver, apparently having some slightly fear of... Bees? "Or even cutting myself on a thorn. At least those... Hmm. Yeah, the suit should help, but that sounds too sweaty..." Even though she's all about aprons for cleanliness, a beekeeper's suit might be off Kukuru's radar. "You're really smart, though! I bet she'd do better with land-food. Maybe... something you can dice up, then cook for a really really long time?" That compliment right there gets Kukuru to start covering her face again. Finally, she's achieved one of many dreams, and she's even in a good place to really feel elated about that! It takes a while longer for her to actually remember to suggest any other foods that could be good for Kana to learn with whatever skills she does or doesn't have. "Stewed meat can be good for that. Or... Braising? Yeah, if the flavor's good, then the cooking part could be done nice and slow... It's gotta be slow, too, so it doesn't get all weird. And then she can work on baking bread to dip it in..." Somehow, with so much food already there, even after eating plenty during the cooking process, Kukuru's mouth is already starting to water. "Stop." "Damn you." "It's a HOBBY," "...I hate you all." Perhaps one of the hardest things Kukuru's had to do today is actually let go of Dysnomia after she says all that. It's hard not to notice that dopey smile on her face after all that, but she's actually gotten quite a bit better at respecting personal space once she's told to back off! Resisting the urge to go back in after hearing something so heartwarming, though, is going to take way more alcohol than she's drank already.
Angela	Angela laughs softly (but evilly) at Dysnomia's complaint but despite being an evil laugh, it is somehoe goodnatured. She covers her mouth even but the smile that flickers threatens to linger until Angela remembers her promises and banishes it away. Berislav indicates his hope that the steep price will result in a better future afterall but Angela's faint 'mm' suggests this isn't really her own concern even if it doesn't reach disagreement. Instead Gebura glances over to Kukuru with a frown and then down at her feet. Actual feet except not there at all. "...." Gebura looks up to Rita. "...I don't know if it would or not. Change how you see me. But if you think it won't... ...I just ... Sometimes I get so mad." She takes a breath and lets it out slowly. Like she does this still. "...I don't really don't want you to see it." Gebura uses a double negative because speaking good is not her forte. "...Sorry, Guess it is kinda me worrying you seeing me is an imposition after all. But I wantcha to see it. It's only fair, I mean."