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Madeleine Cadrasteia	Tensions are a little high as the gang gets back on the road, but Madeleine does her best to drive like nothing is wrong. Putting on "Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster" doesn't help; the film proves a remarkably somber experience, detailing the journey of a scarred astronaut (Frank Stein) across an alien-haunted Puerto Rico. What's more, he only meets the space monster for a two-minute battle at the very end of the film!     The mountain surrounds are beautiful, forested slopes fading from green to their namesake blue-grey in the distance. But the vibes in the van are off, and diversions are starting to lose their lustre. How's everyone holding up?
Calvin Nash	Calvin admittedly isn't helping much, either. Where he'd started the trip amiable and outwardly social, he sits through the entire movie in sullen, uncomfortable silence that is at odds with the somber atmosphere of the movie solely for the visibly pissed-and-badly-hiding-it expression on his face.      Somehow, he sits through the entire thing with his arms crossed. His sole commentary about the movie is a flat, stony "It was fine." It probably could have been anything short of a coke-fueled, grainy ADD nightmare cash-grab circus and received the same glowing praise.
Petra Soroka	Waffle House PVP zone: endured. Political tensions between the two girls present she likes: soothed. Bathroom visit remembered right as everyone's piling into the car, leading her to scurry back into the Waffle House and hurry while half of the car is forced to wait outside because otherwise she'd be crawling over them to get to her seat in the back row: completed. It's road tripping time!     Settling into place between Rita and Lilian fills Petra with a vague, directionless impatience, as she sits up ramrod straight and keeps her hands and thighs to herself, reset to the mental state of taking up as little space as possible from the two of them, rather than dissolving right back into leaning on them. She fiddles aimlessly with her phone for a bit, despite the lack of service-- apparently she *did* have some stuff downloaded, chapters of internet-based text-fiction-media, from normal websites without Lilian Rook x Reader stories-- but she can't focus on reading any of it at the moment.     It's not until Calvin makes some sort of grumpy noise, or even too loud of an exhale, that she remembers her true purpose on the drive. Without directly calling attention to him, Petra casually props her feet up on the cooler between the two seats in front of her, boots right next to Calvin's armrest while she leans over at the DVD player to chatter about the movie to Rita.     "You know, it's kind of weird, like-- in the original story, the guy's name *is* Frankenstein. Like, that's his last name. So it's obviously, like, a little jokingly referential, to name him almost-that but not quite, but... I don't think I see the point? I mean, he's not even cutting up any bodies, or anything."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru felt a little bad about the discord on the road trip, mostly because she didn't entirely understand *why* it happened; being a little vague on what Georgia is other than a state in the United States, she lacks the context to hang stereotypes and insults on. So she ignored it, or tried to. In the front seat Shinmyoumaru can't really see the movie anyway; she debated climbing back to watch anyway, but the first time the van hit a bump she changed her mind about unbuckling the seatbelt, having been scolded about it on a previous trip. (She does learn. The scolding didn't matter as much as not fitting in did.) "Maybe they just wanted to make you think it's going to be him - I mean, Frankenstein - but it's just Frank Stein instead," Shinmyoumaru says; one of the many things she doesn't know is the story of Frankenstein, but she is capable of reading and can tell the difference between 'Frankenstein', on the disc, and 'Frank Stein', what she heard. "So it's like a surprise! Or a lie, I guess, if you really wanted to see the other person." Shinmyoumaru is, honestly, bored out of her skull. The road trip is longer than last time. She has no games to play. She brought a book but she can't focus on it because it's boring, so she threw it into the far back with her bowl when she got back in after Waffle House. She can't sew in a moving car, and even the views have lost her interest - she's seen hilly forest from above for most of her life. By this point, she will talk about *anything*, with *anyone* - talking about a movie she couldn't see is just her reaching for anything to keep her busy.
Calvin Nash	Calvin's fingers dig audibly into his armest. The fixture squeaks in protest, and he flicks his fingers out.      "It was fine," he repeats. Like he's only dimly aware that the movie's being discussed at all.      He fumes silently for a few more moments. "Hey, Rita, Lilian."      "I was wondering whereabouts y'all come from. On account of the accents being different and all." That isn't why he was wondering.
Dysnomia	Dysnomia takes her usual place in front of Rita, drumming her fingers on the windowsil, staring out the window. She could wait through silence for hours, watching distant supernovas, but this was such a more poisonous one. The air thick with words-that-aren't-said, and the constant steel-wool-on-skin feeling of Petra's aura rubbing at the edge of Mia's awareness.     "You know, it's kind of weird, like-- in the original story, the guy's name *is* Frankenstein... ... I don't think I see the point? I mean, he's not even cutting up any bodies, or anything."     "You figure." Dysnomia breathed out through her nose, a little too warm, with a smell a little too metallic. "I thought something seemed strange about that..." Did she not actually know what Frankentein was? "It seems shallow. And the space monster--there was no sign of it until the end."     "You know what this is?" She growled, pointing accusingly at the screen. "They hook you in with a title, make you wonder, 'how will this happen?' You sit down. You watch. And it's dull--The answer's boring. But as long as it's not so boring you give up watching, it's done its job."
Lilian Rook	Lilian is . . . still being kind of weird and drained, but only a little. Being disagreed with so vehemently-- no, seeing Rita look at her like that, swept her legs out from under her very badly at a time her guard was lowest. It's somewhat understandable, in that her barriers were thinned enough to squeeze side to side into the backseat of a van for an inglorious road trip at all, and so that (justifiable) reaction struck when she wasn't ready at all to deflect it. But it's still a little bit ridiculous how badly shaken she's managed to get over being politely told to shut up while thoughtlessly being vile. A mediocre steak dinner should be enough time for her to pretend like it never happened.     Lilian keeps mostly to herself, focused on reading with twice the effort and half the enthusiasm while a terribly boring movie plays out two feet from her. The enforced closeness of the car causes an uncharacteristic trickle of emotional leakage to exude from minutes on hours of wearing behaviours, seeming vaguely put off and conflicted about her pointless self-exile about talking to the other two girls at all. So Calvin is a welcome relief, as someone she forgot to feel even remotely guilty about or accountable to.     'I was wondering whereabouts y'all come from. On account of the accents being different and all.'     "Former Great Britain." she says, blandly. "Though I was born in Former Ireland. I grew up near the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center." It takes her a second to remember that he'll have no idea where that is. "Near Scarborough." Lilian clarifies, as if he would somehow know where that is. "None of that has anything to do with my accent, though. Not really."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru wasn't asked where she was from. That is not going to stop her from answering the question. She speaks up again, sounding bright and sunny from the front seat even if nobody else will: "I'm from Gensokyo! That's in Japan," she says, before adding, "Sort of. It's... connected to Japan, anyway..." It's hard to explain and Shinmyoumaru is not the best person to explain it. "Japan is its Outside World," Shinmyoumaru clarifies. "It's the world of the oni, and the youkai, where the inchlings were trapped. But I'm Japanese!"
Rita Ma	For a while, Rita hadn't seemed as lingeringly affected by the friction as Lilian had. But in cramped quarters, she catches it from Lilian's stiffness again. Not an anger, but a guilty malaise, arms crossed but over her belly as if she might get sick.      She'd have felt guiltier if she didn't say anything. That knowledge doesn't comfort her. A double bind is still a bind.      "I think I've read about that," she says to Petra, in a sort of slightly elevated customer-service tone she usually saves for greetings, apologies, and formal events. "The monster and the doctor, I mean. Isn't Frankenstein's Monster supposed to be the good guy? But I'm not sure this Frank was very nice."      She nods along with Mia's analysis. "And I sort of don't get why it was about stealing women. But it was at least decent, right?" As a distraction.      Calvin's question is a pleasant distraction too, and it makes her sit up and lean forward around Petra, rubbing their shoulders together. "Mmm! I'm from--" She finally catches herself. "I mean, I'm just from 'the ocean', I guess, but the Union Busan took off from Korea. I grew up on boats, because it's flooded where I'm from."      A pause. She dredges deep for something Calvin could grasp. "Like in the Bible."
Petra Soroka	"So it's like a surprise! Or a lie, I guess, if you really wanted to see the other person."     "Okay, but, it's kind of a double fakeout then, right? And-- and, for what? That kind of shitty title, you know, there's-- there's two people Frankenstein could mean, and with that shitty title, you'd think it'd mean the monster. You know, no one's watching to see Frankenstein the loser-ass doctor meet an alien; what'd even happen there? Nothing. You want to see Frankenstein, the monster, meet an alien, and if there's a guy then you expect him to make the monster, because that's what you're there to see. And then, it's fucking, like, neither. It's just some random dude."     Not that Petra was particularly excited about the movie premise in the first place, though. Crossovers are the worst kind of monster media, since they're usually just a big dumb fight-- and then she was waiting for a fight the whole time, and got none! Complaining is a kind of enrichment, to her, though, so while everyone else is being passively eroded by the hostile environment and the constant disappointment about the movie, Petra's actually having an alright time now. "And the space monster--there was no sign of it until the end."     After nodding along with Dysnomia's complaints about the movie, Petra falls silent for a few seconds, staring at the side of Mia's head, and then blurts out, "Is that, like, a representation thing? For you?" "Hey, Rita, Lilian."     Petra isn't thinking about the particulars of what she argued about with Calvin at all anymore, so she doesn't make the connection between his question and her own earlier complaints. Still, he's been essentialized into an effigy of antagonism in her mind, so even approaching the other two girls at all is something that elicits a defensively suspicious squint from her. "None of that has anything to do with my accent, though. Not really."     "Mmm, that was on purpose, right?" Petra wonders aloud, though she isn't actually certain about that. Now that Lilian's talking again, Petra's tension decreases significantly, and she relaxes back against her seat with her hands fidgeting in her lap rather than sitting awkwardly straight.     No one asked Petra either, but it's Petra lore time, she's decided, and she doesn't even direct her answer to the person who asked the question in the first place. "I don't really know how I feel about not really having an accent. I mean, apart from just in English, I apparently don't have one in-- in any other language, either? Like, it says a bunch about where you're from, but, I mean, what about when the answer's just 'nowhere'?"     She doesn't actually have that strong of an American accent in English, either, though by necessity there's still some. It certainly wouldn't be possible to place her voice as being Texan specifically, just by listening to her.
Lilian Rook	'Mmm, that was on purpose, right?'     "Obviously." Lilian says, flipping a page.     'I don't really know how I feel about not really having an accent.'     "What?" Lilian looks up. "Of course you do. Everyone has an accent." she says. "Do you think you're the only normal speaker in the world and that everyone else is just doing it funny for some reason? What dictates my enunciating my Ts is an accent and you slurring them isn't?"
Dysnomia	"Is that, like, a representation thing? For you?"     "Stars, no. What a thing." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "It barely even had a chance to 'represent' anything. The people who made this movie hadn't conceived of anything remotely like me. It's bad on its own merits."     'I don't really know how I feel about not really having an accent.'     "Of course you do. Everyone has an accent."     "That's so. Even in the Moons." Dysnomia said, now tapping at the window of the van, before offering a glance backward, to Calvin. "You didn't ask. But, some Eridi Admiral decided the old terran transatlantic accent was the pinnacle of civilized society, I believe." Her voice was tone-neutral. "And now I talk like this."
Petra Soroka	"The people who made this movie hadn't conceived of anything remotely like me."     While this may be true, Petra can't imagine what Dysnomia means by 'like her' besides 'weird space dragon'. "... Well, I guess it *wasn't* a dragon." "Of course you do. Everyone has an accent."     "N-no, I mean, sure, but...." It does give Petra a little difficulty to envision other people's voices sounding as normal to them as hers sounds to herself, but after effortfully exercising her empathy muscles to pretend a British accent is "normal", Petra still has things to say.     "Like, I mean, I had more of an-- a stronger accent when I was younger. I can actually, you know, compare it, with recordings. I just, like, accidentally lost it?"
Calvin Nash	But I'm Japanese!     There is, unfortunately, a reason behind why Shinmyoumaru wasn't asked, even if it isn't immediately obvious. "Oh, are ya, now?" Calvin's usual conversational tone has a certain edge to it. "Don't know much about it, myself. Don't know much about *any* place outside the ol' states, really." None of that has anything to do with my accent, though. Not really.     "Maybe it don't, at that," says Calvin. "You'd know better'n me, bein' as how it's your accent." I mean, I'm just from 'the ocean', I guess, but the Union Busan took off from Korea. I grew up on boats, because it's flooded where I'm from. Like in the Bible.     "Yep," says Calvin. "Funny how the book makes it out t'be a good thing, ain't it? Or at least brushes over everything got swept away like it all deserved it, 'cause he said so."     "Anyway."     "What's life like out at sea? Didn't I hear talk of an island y'all found?"
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru has decided to plow full speed ahead with remaining bright and cheerful even if nobody else is. Maybe it will help? Even if she doesn't much like the way Calvin sounds when speaking to her. "I don't know much outside Gensokyo either," Shinmyoumaru says. "I couldn't really... go out, for a long time - I don't even mean Outside, but out of my home, because it wasn't safe and it's hard to get down from. I'm learning all sorts of things since then!" She sounds like she's beaming. "Anyway I don't actually speak English, just a few words... But I guess I'd have an accent if I tried?" Shinmyoumaru, of course, speaks Japanese - she mostly just gets by with translation. A beat, then: "Really, just the ocean? I want to see the boat some time! I like boats, though I've never really worked on any big ones, just my little one..."
Lilian Rook	'Like, I mean, I had more of an-- a stronger accent when I was younger. I can actually, you know, compare it, with recordings. I just, like, accidentally lost it?'     "You mean a more easily noticed deviation from the generic pan-American sound that's all over the movies." Lilian sighs, rolling her eyes. "An accent can only be relative. When it's all native speakers who sound different, we call it a dialect if we want to be polite. Perhaps you think you sound unremarkably normal, but from my perspective, you're butchering the language as well as any American."     'You'd know better'n me, bein' as how it's your accent.'     "I would."
Rita Ma	"Funny how the book makes it out t'be a good thing, ain't it?"      "It does?" says Rita, vaguely horrified. Look who's not up on her Christianity Lore.      "What's life like out at sea?"      Rita's leaning fully forward now, hands in her lap instead of crossed. She's just thrilled to get to chat up someone about it! "There's as many ways to live as on land! But the biggest differences are... everyone has to work together, because you can't just go off to live on your own. The boat is everyone's responsibility. And everyone's sort of a nomad, so you plan where and when you'll meet up with everyone else for trade. I used to fish and cook a lot, when I had a more normal life."      "Didn't I hear talk of an island y'all found?"     "Mmmm!! Only we didn't find it. There was a volcano that was going to end the world because of monsters, but people fought really hard to fix it. Ms. Mia, and Ms. Madeleine, and Petra, and Ms. Rook were all there. And it erupted anyway, but it just ended up making an island, and there's ash so the ice caps are freezing, so maybe there'll be more someday!"      Her mood's nearly fully recovered now, thanks to Calvin. That explanation's almost nonsensically Petra-sanitized, but telling it still has her smiling.      "I want to see the boat some time!"      "Mmm! The one I was born on sank, but the Union Busan's beached on the island now. You can come by! Some people still live on it, but they're mostly moving off."      Dropping to soft concern, at Shinmyoumaru: "What do you mean, it wasn't safe to leave? Were there monsters outside or something?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Y'know, I've never really thought about how my accent would affect my image," Madeleine admits. "My old, uh..." She tries to find a term other than 'rider of the apocalypse'. "Some of the nasties I used to run with were all hoity-toity with their 'thees' and 'forsooths' and whatever, now most of the people I work around are either scientists or country folk. I kinda just pick up what I hear, I guess."     "Anyway, Mia, there *are* shows that old with space dragons in 'em. Only, they're mostly iguana with a few paper triangles stuck on their backs. From like, Flash Gordon I think? Sometimes they-" the van interrupts with a CLUNK-rattle-rattle-rattle. "Oh, that ain't good."     The noise persists for several minutes before Madeleine makes a decision. "Right, I should probably get this looked at. Keep an eye on the exit signs, we'll need a hotel and an auto shop."
Lilian Rook	'It does?'     "Rita . . ." Lilian purses her lips. "Maybe you shouldn't bring up the Bible."     'Y'know, I've never really thought about how my accent would affect my image'     "You should." says Lilian, in a way that doesn't sound particularly cutting. "Whatever you don't decide about your image is decided for you. People will form snap judgements about you either way, ad so declining to choose is a choice."     'Right, I should probably get this looked at.'     Lilian sighs explosively and throws her book shut in her lap. "Are you joking? You call us all out here for this, have us all sit around twiddling our thumbs in the back of your vehicle for hours on end, dining at the only place we can find, allegedly staying in four rooms, and you couldn't even have the decency of making certain the car works?!"     "All this for the privilege of doing your work for you! I should be charging you! Overtime, in fact!"
Calvin Nash	There's as many ways to live as on land! But the biggest differences are... everyone has to work together, because you can't just go off to live on your own.     Calvin's response is a deliberately exaggerated version of the conversational, amiable tone he'd had pre-Waffle-House. "Oh, so you're tellin' me that everybody on that boat--well, on that island, now, I reckon, formed this little tight-knit community on account of nobody being able to just go off on their own?" Maybe Petra was right to squint at him.     "Well, damn," he says. "I reckon if you wanted to get by in a place like that, you'd have to learn to get along with your neighbor. 'Specially since whatever problems you got with them's liable to be a lot smaller'n all that ocean."     And here it comes. Lilian's answer hadn't given him quite what he wanted. "Don't suppose Petra ever said the Union Busan or y'all's island you found after wasn't 'real,' did she?" He opens the cooler. Grabbing something is just a pretense for disturbing Petra's footrest.
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	"What do you mean, it wasn't safe to leave? Were there monsters outside or something?" "Well, it's full of youkai..." Shinmyoumaru did say Gensokyo had youkai in it, and she seems to take it as given that Rita knows what they are. "So, yes! A bunch of them have attacked me before! Youkai don't like inchlings very much," she says - Which is not entirely true, as most of the youkai she's actually *met* don't know what they are. But it's what Shinmyoumaru was taught, and she clings to it regardless. "And a lot of them think we don't matter and they can push us around." "So we couldn't go out either. Most inchlings aren't very strong either... so maybe people could push us around." Shinmyoumaru circles back around to what Rita said about the boat: "So we all had to work together too! You couldn't just leave." She glances back at Calvin, craning around to do it. "Well of course it's real? And so is Georgia. I'm not sure about Wisconsin though. I found it on a map, but someone told me it wasn't a real place, because nobody ever meets anyone from Wisconsin." The car makes some unpleasant noises. Shinmyoumaru puts up with it for about two minutes before she says, "Do you want me to look at it? Maybe I can fix it!" Shinmyoumaru doesn't know how to fix vans, so her solution would be 'Miracle Mallet and hope'. It will certainly work... but probably either not in the way quite intended, or not forever. Or both. A pause, then: "Or we can go that way." Shinmyoumaru sees a sign coming up. She squints. "I can't see if there's an auto shop at it..."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine bristles at Lilian's outburst. "Hey, I mean, I- the van *works*, okay? I'm just being careful to make sure it continues to. And you *are* being paid for this! The Concord has generous Elite contract rates! You did- you are here on contract, right?" A dangerous glance into the back row of the van in anxious disbelief. "You were supposed to sign a waiver." A surly pause. "Or you can hitchhike overnight back to DC. I wouldn't recommend it."
Dysnomia	"Anyway, Mia, there *are* shows that old with space dragons in 'em. Only, they're mostly iguana with a few paper triangles stuck on their backs..."     "Oh. Joy." Dysnomia's mouth curled up into a derisive sneer, as she leaned her cheek into her hand. "Can't wait."     She is spared further stories about the space dragons of old terra by the sound of the truck trying to revolt from under them.     "Right, I should probably get this looked at. Keep an eye on the exit signs, we'll need a hotel and an auto shop."     "There may not be call for an auto shop. These old combustion engines aren't too hard to work on, I could..." Lilian occurs, and Dysnomia's just starts to trail off. She rubs her hand over her nose, making a long, hissing noise through her teeth. "Stars, I can't with all this fucking..."     "I'm finding us a hotel." She growled, and her seatbelt--still shut--SLAPPED against her seat, as she reached up--through the roof. "And getting a break from you." ...Before pulling herself, abruptly, up and out of the car.     Madeleine is the only one who hears from her again--though the messages that come through almost seem to come through a thick stew of brainfog, requiring four or five different messages to get a message through.     "-- Third exit do -- Holiday Inn -- Motel Six -- miles-- That's thirty --"     Dysnomia keeps filtering options and distances to Madeleine. But, she can't help how close they are to done for the day's driving. It's not long before she ends up sulking back toward the van. She comes from above--one moment she's gone, then she's there again, congealing out of the smoke.
Lilian Rook	'I'm finding us a hotel. And getting a break from you.     Amidst a radio argument about languages, Lilian halts in the middle of another Gaelic curse, cranes her neck to watch Dysnomia climb up out of the car, and follows her trajectory out onto the road. Staring out the back window, Lilian absentmindedly crosses her fingers and says "Trips and breaks her neck." in the wrong language.     'Don't suppose Petra ever said the Union Busan or y'all's island you found after wasn't 'real,' did she?'     Still rubbernecking at the road, Lilian inattentively replies "Who knows. I don't really pay attention to half of what she says." and "If you're fighting then do it in the parking lot when we get there."
Petra Soroka	"I reckon if you wanted to get by in a place like that, you'd have to learn to get along with your neighbor."     In the comforting glow of Rita happily recounting the story of Apple Tree Island, and Lilian exasperatedly insulting her, Petra has forgotten all about being mad at Calvin. So when his tone starts getting nastier at Rita, she's just uncertainly confused, and then she belatedly catches on to what he's referring to and immediately redoubles her efforts to force her feet down on the cooler lid to slam it on his fingers.     "Hey, we're in a small fucking vehicle right now, too, so watch your tone or I'll throw you onto the fucking street. Don't be rude to *Rita*, jackass." Petra has her hand on her seatbelt latch like it's a holster, tense and leaning forwards to glare at Calvin. "I don't actually give a shit about whatever your fucking tiny-ass shitty town's dumbass *lore* is, and I don't like you, and I don't fucking *trust* you, either. Shit doesn't get *fixed* that easily."     "*And*, idiot, the Union Busan has a *bunch* of people I like. Because I'm totally, actually, capable of liking people, and it's just that *you* piss me off. Me seeing Rita and *her* family as actual, like, three-dimensional, intelligent people, who make sense, and *not* you, is actually just about *you*." "Right, I should probably get this looked at."     Petra gets jolted out of her argument by the car rattling, but combination of being heated and being relegated to the backseat somehow makes her forget all about the fact that she knows how to fix cars. Bickering in the backseat during a long road trip means being at the behest of the person driving, so Petra feels her agency and intelligence situationally drain away. Lilian being mad is a problem, though, and that makes her anxious.     "Wait, like, is this going to be an extra day for the trip, then? Or are we still getting it done tomorrow? I feel like, if it's going to fuck up our schedules, we should probably just... um, go for it, and see what happens?"     Purely in echoing support of Lilian, even though it wasn't a thought she had at all before Lilian voiced it, Petra mumbles, "They really should've done, like, a routine maintenance check on the engine and stuff before handing out the van... I mean, it's kind of embarrassing, right?" "And getting a break from you."     Petra scoffs and rolls her eyes, fumbling over herself to try to fit in a nasty parting remark before Dysnomia vanishes. "God, I basically forgot you were even here. Complain about me when you're fucking a presence at all." Does that work when Petra was talking to her just a few minutes ago? Is she stupid?
Rita Ma	"Rita . . . maybe you shouldn't bring up the Bible."      Rita's expression lowers with guilt, and she sits back into her seat. "Yeah. I'm sorry for being 'culturally appropriative'," she glumly says, which is clearly a term she just memorized recently.      "So we all had to work together too! You couldn't just leave." "Mmm!" Rita, who definitely doesn't know what a youkai is, infers 'monsterpeople' from context. "I'm glad you made it out, Ms. Shinmyoumaru! But it must still feel like home, at least a little? I hope everyone can come and go now, but still, doesn't that bond people together?"      Calvin's exaggeratedly amiable tone doesn't ring danger alarms for Rita. She's a bit oblivious in general- or maybe differently attuned- and isn't familiar with the dialect either. She eagerly chimes in with 'mmm!'s and 'mm-hmm!'s to his description of the islanders' lifestyle, until...      She swivels to look back at Petra with about ten percent of the baffled cringe she'd put on Lilian in the parking lot. "Ms. Petra?" she says softly, like she's expecting her to deny it. But that isn't where Petra's conversationally going.      Her hand squeezes Petra's upper arm gently, as if a grounding exercise is what she really needs. "I've been there. I really like Mr. Nash's little town. It's a lot like Apple Tree Island.Please be nicer to him than that, okay?" Her eyes dart to Lilian when she snaps about the car's engine too, wincing slightly. There is a little note of exasperation in there.      "And getting a break from you."      "I'm sorry, Ms. Mia," she says, withdrawing into herself a little more. She just assumes. When the car does come to a stop, Rita has the urgency to maybe be the first one out.
Petra Soroka	"Please be nicer to him than that, okay?"     Being squeezed *does* have a calming effect on Petra, but it's more like a tug on her leash while she's growling, than a grounding exercise. She sinks back in her seat some, blood still pounding through her axillary artery, and twists her lips into a reluctant pout at being asked to settle down.     "No, I mean, I've been there too, I... like, the people there were *nice*.... It's like, like, a philosophical... thing.... Sorry, Rita." Petra hangs her head and exhales, finally slumping back properly shoulder to shoulder with her, and pushes her hair out of her face roughly with her palm.     "Rita, she was-- it was definitely me, that she wanted to get away from. Not you. You haven't done anything."
Lilian Rook	'Yeah. I'm sorry for being 'culturally appropriative''     Lilian winces. She considers keeping something to herself, then thinks about Madeleine and her promise to break her camera, then brattily contradicts her made-up principle and comes out with it anyways. "Rita. The Bible is that book about killing gay people and slavery. The . . . the one with all of the torture and sacrifices. I don't think you want people to associate you with that."     Lilian has maybe read the Bible exactly forever ago.
Calvin Nash	Hey, we're in a small fucking vehicle right now, too, so watch your tone or I'll throw you onto the fucking street. Don't be rude to *Rita*, jackass.     Calvin whips around like a doberman straining against his leash.     "Try it and I'll give you a shiner Dysnomia can see from space. And then I'll *really* come after you. You understand me, you little shit?" Spittle flies from his lips and his index finger bobs up and down like an angry orchestra conductor.     "Now you listen here, for once in your damn life. There ain't nothing *to* fix, except by *you,* stupid-ass." His face is actually turning red. "*You're* the one that called the only thing in the whole wide world that's real to me 'fake,' and *you're* the one that's got to make up trust. *I* didn't do shit. I even tried to play nice with your goddamn brain problems," he says, doing the classic counter-clockwise index twirl at the temple, "'Bout wanting to be treated like shit, but I didn't do that good enough for your royal highness, so that means you gotta play fuckin' games with me the whole damn trip, is that it?!"     She succeeds in slamming it on his fingers. "Nnngh," He grunts in pain, but he's dug in his heels too far to give up now. "Well I ain't playing." Now, he's got his hands on a sandwich to teeth-grittingly drag through the ever-shrinking gap of the cooler. And it's being smashed to pieces by the pressure, squashed into unrecocgnizable slop in the plastic bag.     "I was ready to give you every bit of respect, but that's a two way street, and you ain't walked it but one way a day in your damn life. Maybe if you had, you wouldn't have all them damn bruises, now wouldya? If your momma was worth a damn she woulda taught you how to act like you got some fuckin' *sense.* No wonder Lilian knocks the fire outta you all the time. Prolly hoping the next one's gonna be the one that shakes all the rocks 'n ratshit outta your busted-up little noggin."     "Peckerhead." The state of the sandwich doesn't matter to Calvin. Because he doesn't intend to eat it. The bag is thrown at Petra in time with the insult, with a vitriolic pitch that'd look at home on a pitcher's mound in front of a screaming crowd. I've been there. I really like Mr. Nash's little town. It's a lot like Apple Tree Island. Please be nicer to him than that, okay?      The redness drains from Calvin's face and he heaves an embarrassed sigh, turning back around in his seat. "I'm sorry, Rita. I shouldn'ta used your hometown to shit on Petra."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Around 4 PM, in the middle of Calvin's enraged tirade at Petra, Madeleine takes the van off the highway at Abingdon, Virginia (population 8,376), just shy of the border with Tennessee. After stopping in at a hotel to drop off the other Elites (leaving them to check in, or fight it out in the parking lot), she takes the van to a local auto shop for a look over and returns on foot. "It'll be ready this evening, but I don't think we should drive through the night," she texts to the group. "There's some kind of county fair on, if you're looking for something to do the rest of the afternoon."     The fair is set up at the edge of town - it's hard to get lost on the way there, as long as you keep the giant inflatable slide in your sights. A large banner over a ticket booth proclaims this event as the Washington County Heritage Fair. Admission is cheap, although there is some commotion among the admissions staff as to whether multiversal credit chits are accepted. Once it is determined that the Elites are indeed offering legal tender, they're let past the turnstile into the fair proper. Inside the attractions are not overcrowded, but neither are they deserted - lines are just the right length, and the crowd density is light enough to suggest that most of today's crowd is the people who go *every* day of the fair, rather than just once to get their fill.     Madeleine beelines for an outdoor food court ringed with stalls - is she really hungry again already? Apparently so, though she opts for a funnel cake over one of the more filling options. She's already made a powdered-sugar mess of her black clothes by the time anyone else catches up. Also on offer is boiled crawfish, fried fish, variously-seasoned meat jerkies from a local manufacturer, and corn dogs on a stick.     Across from the food court, at the heart of the fair, there's a temporary stage set up where a variety of musical acts are set to perform over the afternoon and evening. The current act is a four-piece string band - violin, bass, mandolin, guitar - playing soft instrumentals. Next to the stage is a pair of large canvas barns, one labeled 'LITTLE CRITTERS' (rabbits and chickens, if the accompanying pictures are any indication) and the other 'GOATS & SHEEP'. A sign past the barns advertises tractor wagon rides twice an hour, and it looks like the tractor's just coming back with the latest wagonful of passengers.     There is also, of course, the giant inflatable slide, next to a large oval dirt-and-haybale track for... some kind of racing? It's unclear what, exactly, will happen there, but the posted sign says the next race is in an hour. Finally, at the far back of the fair there's a great mass of haybales which only on closer inspection reveals itself to be a sprawling maze, free to wander to your heart's content.     Not all is fun and games, however. There are sounds of consternation from a small group in purple staff t-shirts standing in a rough circle about large enough to fit a car between them. "How does a tractor just *disappear*," one wonders aloud. Several of them shake their heads in helpless disappointment, while another speculates about some variety of theft.
Calvin Nash	If you're fighting then do it in the parking lot when we get there.     "We got work tomorrow," says Calvin after another sigh, as the van pulls into the parking lot. "Can't neither of us show up busted up. Sends the wrong message and we don't know how jumpy them National Guard boys or them gnomes're gonna be."      "How about we try not t'piss each other off 'till after we got all that taken care of?" he asks Petra directly as he steps out of the van for the hotel check-in. "I ain't never been to a county fair before and I'd like it if something about this trip was nice."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	"I hope everyone can come and go now, but still, doesn't that bond people together?" "Mostly it's just me," Shinmyoumaru says. "...But I'm going to show those youkai they can't push us around forever!" This is when she'd pose dramatically. Unfortunately, buckled into the front seat, Shinmyoumaru can't pose at all, which is something she might sulk about if she wasn't distracted by a fight. Now, Shinmyoumaru has nothing against a fight now and again. She's argumentative herself when she's not trying to play nice because she's trapped in a car with a bunch of angry people and it's not like they can hop out for a duel (or can they?) But she was trying to avoid one here and now, so: "Hey, hey! We all have to *work together* this time," Shinmyoumaru says, crossing her arms. "YOu promised! You all promised to come with Madeline. Even if we're not working with the gnomes yet and we just have to go to the hotel and everything. So behave. Or I'm going to use my Mallet on BOTH of you." She holds up the Miracle Mallet: a painted wooden mallet. It looks like a toy. It isn't. Anyone even vaguely sensitive can feel the power from the magic hammer, the legendary Uchide-no-Kozuchi, whether or not they know the story or not. Shinmyoumaru keeps the Mallet out and in her hand when the group gets to the fair, and she's one of the first ones out - "Oh, neat!" Shinmyoumaru has never seen a country fair either, judging by her reactions: all wide-eyed, because even though nothing is very fancy it's all new to her. She wants to go and see everything and she just *knows* she will not be able to. When there is an issue with paying to get in, Shinmyoumaru settles the matter by - since she has the Mallet out anyway - shaking it in a specific way to 'dislodge a coin' from somewhere on it; an old Japanese koban, it's probably worth a couple hundred dollars in gold if you can get it out (as it's not very pure gold), or more to a collector. (The coin wasn't there before, but never mind.) And THEN she tries to see everything at once, which of course doesn't work. She spends a lot of time not sure what she's going to do - but she definitely gets a funnel cake to not do it with. She has apparently forgotten to keep threatening Petra and Calvin if they misbehave. Eh, it'll be fine.
Rita Ma	"The Bible is that book about killing gay people and slavery."      "Huh? ... But it's the one that Christians like. And all of the ones I've met were really nice," Rita insists thinly. She's too droopy for much else.      "... it was definitely me, that she wanted to get away from."      "I'm not sure," Rita mumbles, miserably. Two girls, each oblivious to the other's heart . . . "It's okay, though. I forgiv--"      -If it isn't otherwise intercepted, Rita grabs the sandwich out of the air about a foot from Petra's face, and then compacts it in her hand as if the wrapper didn't have anything in it at all.      "Just be normal," she says sharply, with the punctuation of her shoes hitting the hotel's gravel parking lot. Hard to tell who it's aimed at (except definitely not Shinmyoumaru; she's fine).
Petra Soroka	"I even tried to play nice with your goddamn brain problems,"     "*Finally*! Fuck! My fucking *brain problems*?!" Petra parrots him with a shrill combination of enraged disbelief and aggressive adrenaline, like a meangirl bully also rearing up to take a swing. "There it fucking is; I fucking knew it. You managed to pretend to care what I had to say for *just* long enough, *just* until I got a little too fucking annoying to you so you could pull the carpet out and bitch about what a freak I've been this whole time."     "I fucking *knew* it-- blech, ew," She tries to lean in to point aggressively at him in return, but putting her face in the splash zone instantly makes her recoil in horror, frantically trying to wipe the spit away but finding no sleeves or jacket with which to do it. She makes a tiny, distressed whine, curling over to use the hem of her tank top without having to lift her shirt up too much, and then lifts her face up like that wasn't the most pathetic thing ever and gets right back into arguing.     "But that's fucking right. I'm a fucked up little freak who's fucked in the head and you can't *stand* me, and you can come up with whatever fucking justification you want, but you can't *fucking* get rid of me." Being tugged back by Rita sets Petra simmering, and then the thrown sandwich at her face causes her to flinch in surprise, right before the ziploc bag splatters and-- "Just be normal,"     Petra stares at the crushed bag in Rita's hand. "Um. Yes ma'am. Er-- I mean, uh, sure, yeah. Not in the-- not in the car." "How about we try not t'piss each other off 'till after we got all that taken care of?"     Sliding out of the car, still a little dazed, Petra shakes her head like a dog to clear it out, and then pauses when it registers to her that this might look like a shake for 'no'. "Eh-- whatever. Yeah. I, care way more about going to the fair, anyways. Um,"     She glances side to side at Rita and Lilian, awkwardly vibrating with a little bit of ashamed excitement and trying to play it cool, "Wanna go to the fair?"
Dysnomia	When the car arrives at the hotel, Dysnomia is already there--just long enough to see them cresting the bend, before turning sharply in place and walking away. Apparently, just verifying that they'd all arrived where they were supposed to was all she really wanted. Calvin, Lilian and Petra's seething made her skin want to writhe off. The thought of a minute more in their company seemed, at that moment, unbearable. Not even Rita could make it better.     ...The fair, meanwhile, was a sea of quaint warmth and celebration. She found herself near the band, gravitating toward the soothing music--and more importantly, the soothing waves of people reacting to it. She tasted nolstalgia, both bright and unbridled and bittersweet, and relief--even what she thought might have been love, here and there.     It was a powerful palate cleaser, after Lilian's closed-door fracture of a mind, all contextless venom Petra's nonstop, outward-pointing knives and Calvin's earnest--but no less unpleasant--seething. She closed her eyes, and her hands shuddered, slightly, leaning on what seemed to be a little farm fence.     "How does a tractor just *disappear*,"     "Stars do you mean, 'disappear?'" Mia follows the disruption in what she'd hoping to be her psychic salve, hands on her hips, mouth curled into a sharp scowl. "Just what's your problem?" Was she was offering to help, criticizing them for letting it happen? Both.
Lilian Rook	'Huh? ... But it's the one that Christians like. And all of the ones I've met were really nice'     With aching reluctance, Lilian says, "Yes. Rita. They do like it." Sighing the 'it's not your fault and it's not mine' sigh, she says "The Bible is also very complicated, so plenty of people just listen to other people read it and trust that they're telling the truth; or they interpret it in a very different way."     'Try it and I'll give you a shiner Dysnomia can see from space. And then I'll *really* come after you. You understand me, you little shit?'     Unexpectedly, Lilian startles out of opening up her book again. She'd shown so little interest in Calvin's angle just a moment ago that it seems as if she should have thumbed back to her page with emphatic slowness and effortlessly ignored him. Instead, the sound of 'booming loud and absolutely livid male voice' projected inside the car leaves her flashbanged.     '--'Bout wanting to be treated like shit, but I didn't do that good enough for your royal highness, so that means you gotta play fuckin' games with me the whole damn trip, is that it?!--'     Lilian leans away from the spit flying on reflex. The feeling that she'd just 'gave ground' makes her heart leap to just below her throat and her spread fingers crinkle the page. The seat creaks softly as she straightens her back. She glances to Petra, and doesn't seem to be checking on her at all. Like checking Calvin's aim.     'Maybe if you had, you wouldn't have all them damn bruises, now wouldya?'     Lilian's spare hand inches along her seat as if she's forgotten she can just stop time. The fixed places of a moving vehicle leave her gripping something white-knuckled at her thigh. Her expression says very little; which it shouldn't. She looks at Petra one more time, forces her mouth open, and then Petra is screaming too, and Lilian recoils from saying anything, holding her breath instead.     'If your momma was worth a damn she woulda taught you how to act like you got some fuckin' *sense*--'     'I'm a fucked up little freak who's fucked in the head and you can't *stand* me, and you can come up with whatever fucking justification you want, but you can't *fucking* get rid of me--'     'Just be normal--'     Lilian reacts a hair slower than Rita to the thrown sandwich, but at an earlier threshold. Almost simultaneous with Rita catching it, Lilian slams the business end of her gun to the back of Calvin's seat and grinds it into the seat fabric until the nylon creaks. The look in her eyes says that she has no idea what she's doing. The words on her lips are "So help me God." as if she'd meant to do it.     'We got work tomorrow'     "We do." Lilian says, too-hesitantly. She pulls back her grip by halting degrees, then holsters her weapon again while trying to play it off like putting away her wallet. "And I don't want to see you behaving like this in front of a client either."     'You promised! You all promised to come with Madeline. Even if we're not working with the gnomes yet and we just have to go to the hotel and everything. So behave. Or I'm going to use my Mallet on BOTH of you.'     "Nobody asked, so take that holier-than-thou 'I get to punish both sides' scumfuckery and--" Lilian cuts herself off with a harsh breath. "You're all Elites. Stop threatening petty car brawls. You've left the world where you were still permitted that luxury a long time; so act like it."     . . . . . .     'Wanna go to the fair?'     Lilian exits the car as gracefully as 'shellshocked' can't be. "Oh. They have little rabbits." she says, dazed from the sheer weight of furious introspection hogging all of her back-end mental resources. Absently, she hands Petra her credit card (?!) and says "You know what's edible, don't you?"
Rita Ma	"Yes ma'am", for some baffling reason, doesn't phase Rita in the least. She turns to look back at Petra questioningly, but that's a full second after reflex would've demanded, and not nearly sharply enough. Her eyes linger on Lilian instead, with some measure of wary hostility. "I meant you too."      "... Yeah. Sure. We can go to the fair. I just need a minute." The way Rita walks off towards the woods with her little red-and-white cooler scans exactly like 'going for a smoke'. She wipes the sandwich's guts off on the lip of an outdoor trash can.      - - - -      She shows back up at the fair maybe ten minutes later. Purely by coincidence, compacting the sandwich seems to have put a few flecks of strawberry jelly on Rita's face. She doesn't seem to notice! She's in a better mood now though; or at least she's determined to be.      "So what's fun to do at these, Ms. Madeleine?" is her natural first question, slipping arm-in-arm with Petra (which might be out of affection, or might be a kind of leash). "Oh, chickens too... I haven't seen those since Mr. Candy's farm."      If left to her own devices, she ends up heading towards the livestock with Petra, projecting a kind of brittle soothed-ness.
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru considers herself more Petra's friend than Calvin, but she doesn't know Calvin very well, so it might just be that. She has mostly come down on nobody's side and seems to be trying to keep it that way. "Nobody asked, but I said it anyway. Anyway, you threaten people all the time, I saw you. And Petra does too, so I thought you were all used to it!" The problem with Shinmyoumaru is when she says something like that she *seems* perfectly guileless, like she can't possibly understand why there's a problem - totally honest and genuine and even a little innocent. But every once in a while, there's a hint in her eyes that suggests she knows exactly what she's doing, and why. Pushing people to listen to her - and pushing back if they don't. She has it now, until it vanishes in a grin and she runs off to look at the fair.
Lilian Rook	'I meant you too.'     Lilian, for the second time this day, looks nauseatingly betrayed. She looks less startled and more like she's confused and struggling to catch up.     "I didn't say anything." Lilian rasps. "They just screamed at each other on their own. How is this my fault?" All thoughts of pulling a gun on Calvin for being loud and livid in her face have fully exited her brain. She still can't even decide whether she was supposed to stand up for Petra or not-- and 'somehow' received the worst of both worlds.
Petra Soroka	"I meant you too."     Petra's low whine and uneasy glare at Rita is the most hostility Petra's ever projected at her, especially without immediately apologizing afterwards. Her shoulders are stiffly rigid, barely not squeezing her hands into fists, but her attempt at speech is tensely ameliorating. "L-look, it was my fault, so-- there's just not going to be any more fighting. I'll be normal. Okay? That's enough. Just drop it." "You know what's edible, don't you?"     In a critical miscalculation, an error she almost never makes-- for sinful reasons, but still-- Petra failed to look at Lilian for the duration of her shouting match with Calvin. Now, gaze locked expectantly on her face again, tracing the movements of Lilian's lips and the direction and delay of her expressions with her eyes, Petra slowly comes to a realization, nervous half-smile leaving her face. She takes Lilian's card without looking down at it, and without acknowledging Rita stepping away either.     "Um... yeah! I'll grab us some stuff." With all of her leftover anger vanished in the cold adrenaline of still sucking at emotional triage, Petra tries to do rapid calculations in her head to solve for the best way forwards. "If you want to go sit with the-- the rabbits a bit, then I'll bring it over there. So I'll--! Be back soon!"     When Rita meets back up with her, Petra is at the food stalls, diligently testing food by buying it with her own money first to check if it's edible enough for Lilian. Slipping her arm into Petra's isn't reacted to with the typical blushing awkwardness, even in front of people's view in the stalls. She squeezes Rita's arm tight, tensely anxious, and talks to her insistently while bringing back a selection of lunch items for Lilian to choose from while leaving Petra with the rest.     "Could you, um, actually just be nice to her? I don't want to get angry. I don't really care-- care what it's about. I just want a nice day, so I don't care about Calvin or whatever anymore, so can you *please* be nice for Lilian? I'm sorry for starting shit."
Calvin Nash	Just be normal.     "Yep. That's me," Calvin says to Rita much more calmly and conversationally than he has any right to after playing spite-jenga with Petra and continuing the proud American tradition of inarticulate yelling. He gives Lilian a side-eye. She can practically see 'Calvin will remember that' in the periphery. Eh-- whatever. Yeah. I, care way more about going to the fair, anyways.     Calvin's hands twitch at his sides, for want of a pinch at the bridge of his nose, or perhaps a run through the top of his wavy blonde mullet. "Ok."                                    -The Fair-                                       Calvin endures the credit-related wait with patience entirely at odds with his previous behavior. If it weren't for the bulky scrapmetal computer on his arm, he'd even look like a local.     The first thing that he notices, before the music, is the smell. "Damn, something smells good," he says. "Smells... fried." So he ends up catching up to Madeleine, and of course, going for the funnel cake too. And then the fried fish, for good measure.     He eats in silence for the whole way through the funnel cake. It isn't until he gets to the fish that he bothers asking Madeleine: "I really fucked the pooch back there, huh." The brim of his hat shades his face as he eats.
Rita Ma	"Could you, um, actually just be nice to her?"      Rita's eyes widen. Then she looks away.      "I'm being nice to her. She's the one being mean to me," Rita says, somewhere between sharp and mumbling. "I have to make sure everyone gets along. I have to make sure people don't hate each other. She's making it hard on me, for... reasons I don't understand at all, I guess. Just because she wants to or something. Is pointing a gun at Mr. Nash a good day for you?"      Rita scratches at the strawberry jelly(?) on her cheek. She squeezes Petra's arm almost-too-tight, but can't find the release of a sigh.      "That, that, and that smell good," she finally says, trying not to glance over the tables at Calvin. She means the watermelon, local grapes, and country ham biscuits. "And maybe the 'funnel cakes' too.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	A gold coin raises even more commotion at the ticket booth than credit chits did, and after one of the staff jokes about keeping it as a 'tip' the others quickly reach the consensus that it should go toward next year's fair expenses. An event manager is summoned, and the gaggle of staff scurry off together to all make sure the others won't try to pocket the coin for themselves.     The funnel cakes are, well, they're funnel cakes. Hard to make those wrong, and the workers here have had plenty of practice the last few days. Madeleine's funnel cake is pretty much just drizzled all over the place but the cook tries to get creative with Shinmyoumaru's, drawing a square of batter on the surface of the hot oil and filling it in with a right-angled spiral. There's a myriad of toppings available; Madeleine went for just the powdered sugar but alternatives include cinnamon, or whipped cream with hot strawberry sauce.     The other standard fair food is underwhelming, but none of you were really here for corn dog on a stick, were you? The fried fish, served as a sandwich, is rather good, but the standout is the local jerky, specifically the barbecue flavors - does Petra bring back the sweet and mild variant for Lilian, or will she take a chance on the hot and spicy?     "So what's fun to do at these, Ms. Madeleine?"     Madeleine takes a few seconds to finish chewing a frankly irresponsible bite of funnel cake before she can answer. "I think that haybale maze looks fun, but I don't know if you're partial to mazes. Once I'm done eating I'll probably take a look at the vendors-" she gestures across the food court in the vague direction of the craft stalls "-and see if they have anything good. I've heard fishing lures are kind of a popular thing here, and they make nice souvenirs."     "I really fucked the pooch back there, huh."     "Mmfh," Madeleine says, before remembering she's taken another bite of funnel cake. Chew, swallow. "I mean, you didn't sound like you were having fun. But she kind of- Petra sort of tries to start fights with people? The other day on the radio she was complaining that nobody really *hated* her. But honestly, after a full day in a van with her I'm starting to think I might feel the same way you do. Or I would, if she knew enough about me to be really insulting like she is with you. It's not exactly a good look, but hey. In two weeks who's gonna remember it?"     The livestock barns are mostly upfront about their contents, though it's still more interesting to actually *see* a sheep than to simply rotate one in your mind. It seems the shows and contests have mostly already occurred, as a number of the enclosures proudly display ribbons of varying size and color. 'BEST IN SHOW'. 'BEST JACOB SHEEP'. 'MOST LIKELY TO GET MARRIED'. What is this, a high school yearbook?     Regardless, there's still something interesting on deck - a smattering of staff are circulating, politely reminding fairgoers of the 'sheep to shawl competition' starting in fifteen minutes. If asked, they'll offer an explanation: teams of five fiber artists will compete to shear a sheep of its wool, spin the fleece, and weave a shawl as quickly as possible.     "Just what's your problem?"     "It's-" The staffer gestures at the empty space before her, as if that's explanation enough. "The steam tractor! It's an antique, and it's on loan for the fair, but it's gone missing! If we have to make up the loss to the owner we'll have to start charging for admission in gold!" She doesn't appear to know that certain fairgoers are already accustomed to just that, but unless Shinmyoumaru wants to stay in Abingdon until her arm falls off, that tractor probably needs to be found.
Dysnomia	"The steam tractor! It's an antique, and it's on loan for the fair, but it's gone missing!"     I should already know where it's gone. Somehow, Dysnomia's scowl grew even deeper, and the little bubble of uncertainty and fear stung at her like beestings in a flower field.     "So you've fucked up." She growled, relentlessly, staring at the place where the tractor should have been. "And now, you're making it everybody else's problem. Maybe I should just leave you here to go bankrupt, leave whatever next nobody wants to host this party for you."     But, even as she says that, she's already looking. Her eyes scan the ground, looking for some teletale sign of movement in different spectrums of light. Somewhere where oil had dropped, hidden tractor treads...Anything. Idly, she runs a local hacking process on her suit--keywords 'tractor' 'steam' 'steal.' She was definitely breaking so many privacy laws. She just didn't CARE right now.
Petra Soroka	"Is pointing a gun at Mr. Nash a good day for you?"     "Yeah," Petra nasally whines, resentful that the conversation wasn't over in a single exchange after how much it took out of her to say it. "And it'd be a lot easier if it didn't make you upset, too. I don't mind when people hate me. I mean, Calvin, he literally said that he thought I was insane even before I got him mad enough to start yelling. I just want people like him to *say* it."     She sighs, obediently allowing herself to be guided where Rita points, and sighing slips her more tightly into the entanglement with Rita's arm. "I don't-- sorry, I can't really, like, change my opinion, whatever you say for why you got mad at Lilian. I can't care about that more than I want Lilian to feel better. But you only got mad at each other because of stuff I said, so I won't say shit that makes it happen, and then it'll be fine." but the standout is the local jerky, specifically the barbecue flavors - does Petra bring back the sweet and mild variant for Lilian, or will she take a chance on the hot and spicy?     Ridiculous question. Petra was already aiming to get meat-based lunch and snack options for Lilian, and with the jerky being the highest quality available, she simply gets both. She stores the mild jerky in her compact mirror, only a little exasperated when people gawk, and brings the spicy stuff back to Lilian along with a sandwich with a side of fruit and a funnel cake.
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru does *not* provide another koban, because she is by now aware of what those are worth; she intended to have it pay for everybody to get in, and she knows it's an awful lot of money for that. They can argue about where it goes; she's done her part! When it comes to funnel cakes, Shinmyoumaru picks strawberry sauce. This means that she is *extra* occupied in trying to eat without staining her dress, which - while it's not quite as maximum fancy as some of the ones she has shown up in - is still likely pretty easy to ruin. It keeps her quiet-ish for a few moments. But only so long: "I dunno!" is her response to Calvin. "I just wanted to make sure that we actually got to see the gnomes instead of having a fight and never getting there. Stopping to see the fair is a bonus." And a good bonus as far as she is concerned. Thoughtfully: "Petra reminds me of my best friend a lot. She likes to argue, too, so I guess I'm used to it, but she doesn't always mean anything as bad as what she actually *says*. So maybe she doesn't like you, but I don't think she hates you as bad as she says, either. And if she does you can always challenge her to a duel *after* this!" That with the bright sunniness back in her voice. Shinmyoumaru has seen animals before, but rarely close up. The sheep to shawl competition is interesting to her, as someone who makes clothes, and if she had more time to figure out how to get wool off a sheep she'd probably try to enter with some people she dragooned into helping, but Shinmyoumaru doesn't know how to do that part of it, all she can do is watch. Or that was the plan. "The steam tractor?" Shinmyoumaru's brow furrows. "Well, if it's on, you can see steam, right?" Shinmyoumaru can fly with her bowl, but Dysnomia does it without: "Hey, can you go up high and see if there's a steam plume?" Shinmyoumaru herself walks over to where the steam tractor was, looking at the patch of empty ground thoughtfully. Then she wanders away in a slowly widening arc. She's looking for if anything fell off the tractor, or looks like it came from it. Because if she finds one, she's going to ask it some questions, with the aid of her Mallet. Like, 'Where's the rest of you?' and 'Did someone break you off?' Shinmyoumaru considered asking a fence but all it would know is if someone went through it, and lots of people are going past, through, and around every kind of obstacle today. Shinmyoumaru deliberately stays out from underfoot so she doesn't get in people's way, because she's found that - very occasionally - being ignored is a good thing. She's chewing on what's left of her funnel cake the whole way too, which makes her look even more like an ordinary fairgoer. If dressed a little unusually, and still holding the Mallet.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	It's hard to say whether any given patch of flattened grass is due to foot traffic or if it could be a tell-tale tractor trail, but Dysnomia does catch sight of a few oil spots on the grass with her enhanced vision. The trail leads to the road adjacent the fair, where she can see scuff marks and a trail of grass leavings consistent with a recently-offroad tractor. However, the marks start and stop and start and stop, almost like someone was repeatedly lifting the tractor and setting it back down a short ways ahead. Or - wait a moment. The marks aren't lined up with each other between the left and right. It's like the tractor was... walking? Tractors don't walk. Something funny's going on here.     The trail leads a short ways along the road, then breaks off into the hills surrounding the town, where there's a clearer path of broken foliage. Following along, Dysnomia and Shinmyoumaru are halfway across a large, rolling field when the trail intersects with several others and becomes muddled. This must be where the tractor wagon rides meander around the countryside - an inference confirmed when a big, modern tractor comes over a hill, with a wagon of passengers in tow. The driver slows to a halt and cuts the engine to call out, "Hey, you shouldn't be running around out here! This is part of the fairground, but it's reserved for the tractor rides. Why don't you two hop on the wagon and I can take you back with the rest of these folks when we're done?"     In the distant treeline, a dark shape lurches through the underbrush. A dark shape with a steady plume of steam, visible to Dysnomia's thermal vision.
Calvin Nash	But honestly, after a full day in a van with her I'm starting to think I might feel the same way you do. Or I would, if she knew enough about me to be really insulting like she is with you. It's not exactly a good look, but hey. In two weeks who's gonna remember it?     "Me, that's who. I don't wanna get *rid* of her. I just wanna know what I got to do to get some damn peace around her. Everything was fine. Then it wasn't. She's waitin' for the other shoe to fall, but I don't even know whose damn foot she's lookin' at." Petra reminds me of my best friend a lot. She likes to argue, too, so I guess I'm used to it, but she doesn't always mean anything as bad as what she actually *says*. So maybe she doesn't like you, but I don't think she hates you as bad as she says, either.     His broad shoulders roll. "That's what *I* figured," he says. "'Till I had a gun at my back anyway. From somebody I'm s'posed to be able to trust. Don't make no damn sense," he repeats, as if it suddenly will. Tearing a chunk from the fried fish sandwich is his best attempt at getting there, and it doesn't help, either.      "Life goes on," he repeats. "Figure I'll apologize. Even though I didn't do jack shit. If I gotta do everything myself it ain't like much's changed." That definitely isn't true of his time before Unification, to say nothing of right now.
Rita Ma	"Yeah," Petra nasally whines...      "And it'd be a lot easier if it didn't make you upset, too."      "I just want people like him to *say* it."      Rita's lips part, for a moment, like she's going to try to concoct an argument why Petra should care; then she gives up, and starts weighing something else instead.      "I can't care about that more than I want Lilian to feel better."      That tips her further. Rita, looking vaguely afflicted, disentangles her arm from Petra's. Her eyes are tensed in a particular way. Rather than 'conflicted disgust', this is 'pained separation'.      "Sometimes people say things they don't mean, Petra. I really hope you didn't mean most of that. If you don't care whether Ms. Rook points a gun at people, you don't really care about her; you just want to be near her."      Half-step back. Her voice hitches a little, doesn't come quite so smooth. "Right now I just wish the two of you hadn't come. It would've been fine without you. And what you two think about 'people like me'."      She turns to go. The maze is nice, maybe, or maybe not. The goats probably are. Eventually, after her little circuit, she collapses at the table near Cal and Maddie, cheek squished into her crossed arms and clearly depleted.
Dysnomia	There. A problem, with concrete answers, that she can solve. She grumbles something, wiping idly at her eye, as she marches after specks of oil lost on the grass...But if all she'd wanted to track was the actual tractor's wheels, she'd have lost it quickly. "Look," she said, pointing for Shinmyoumaru--she couldn't see the oil stain. But, that just made the fact Mia could a little more satisfying. "Fluid, probably from the tractor. It connects trails of tracks...Like it was lifted up, and carried. To put people off the trail, maybe."     "But who'd use that kind of force for an old fairground tractor?" It was frustrating, still, that she couldn't look ahead and see the answer. But the curves of the road to it was in sight, and that was almost as good. "Come." She bid the inchling, throwing her shoulders back, her movement through the fields coming through in confident strides.     "Hey, you shouldn't be running around out here!...Why don't you two hop on the wagon and I can take you back with the rest of these folks when we're done?"     He was getting in the way. "No." Dysnomia said, bluntly. She was just a one person, sitting in the field, with a little girl by her side, walking where she shouldn't be. She didn't have any power here. So why did her disapproval make his bones tremble?     "You can follow us, or carry on your way. I don't care which." She turned, again, to the inchling. "I can see a steam plume ahead, this way."
Lilian Rook	Lilian does, in fact, sit with the rabbits for a while. It wouldn't ordinarily be her first choice, or even her second, but being abruptly semi-abandoned at a strange and stressful foreign festival leaves her not feeling very adventurous, and for some impenetrable reason, sitting around with a cute, small, harmless animal sounds really really good about the time Petra says it.     A particularly fluffy bunny is the recipient of Lilian's muddied recollection of the entire Event, repeated in order, then a sighing barrage of her own wearily conflicting feelings about it, and receives altogether too much petting for one bunny to get away with by the time she is labbing out all of her hypothetical options in the retrospective exchange. Glancing both ways to make sure nobody is looking, Lilian leans down and kisses the rabbit on the head, and says "Thank you for listening." She straightens up and flicks away nothing, pretending she found sawdust in its fur.     Unhappily, Lilian taps her comm piece.     "Petra. Where are you? You better not have run off with my American card."     Deep breath. Lilian pinches the bridge of her nose.     "Nash. You have my apologies for . . . if it seemed, to you, like I was threatening you. I don't care to rehash it, but it would be troublesome if you were to gather the impression that a Paladins Chevalier couldn't be trusted."     ". . ."     "Never shout like that in my personal space again. That goes for throwing things at people right next to me as well."
Petra Soroka	"Right now I just wish the two of you hadn't come. It would've been fine without you. And what you two think about 'people like me'."     Petra opens her mouth helplessly, struggling to form words past the lump in her throat, and fails to produce any before Rita's slipped away and the opportunity is gone. She stands there for a few seconds, stock-still while she watches Rita walk away, and then robotically pivots on her heel and keeps plodding along to Lilian.     Her half-pace, apathetically-wavering trajectory doesn't lead her straight back, though, instead straying off the path to wander into the gap between currently-empty stalls, sitting on the patchy grass scattered with hay from the nearby activities. It's a private, sheltered little zone, perfect for her to hurriedly encapsulate the food in bubbles of morphmetal and fumble with a cigarette with her knees up to her chest. It takes her two tries to light it, and the not-so-subtle stream of smoke curls up above the tents and hay bales, dissipating in the warm afternoon air while Petra drops her forehead to her knees.     "What the fuckkkkkkkkkk...." Low, scratchy whining, too quiet to be heard from the main path of the fair but necessary to leave her lips anyways. "I swear to god, this shit would be easier if I just killed people the first time they made me mad. I wouldn't always manage, but then they couldn't stand to be around me anymore, instead of doing some dumb shit like trying to be *civil* or *apologizing*, and then doing the same shit all over again next time. Fucking Calvin."     Petra takes another drag on her cigarette, eyes red from more than just the smoke. She scrubs the back of her hand against them, cigarette held between her knuckles, then stares at the pile of hay leading to the alluringly flammable center of the fair. The temptation to just flick the lit cigarette into it and see if she could torch the whole thing is intoxicating-- especially, Petra idly observes, since the grass feels kind of dry for this part of summer too.     Everyone would know, of course, and everyone would hate her for it, and call her a psycho freak, but what's arson to her already-extant list of sins? Arson is already *on* there! Considering the whole list of it all, starting with 'being born' and, chronologically, ending with disgusting Rita, it's deceitful of her to even try to keep being Rita's friend anyways; though she remembers a time where that was the point. Burning the fair down would cut short whatever post-argument confabulation people were doing to justify Petra's continued existence, and it'd get this stupid mission over with a little faster, and she has to mumble her reasoning *not* to do it out loud in order to convince herself to stop.     "It'd make Lilian sad, though... she's probably with the bunnies, and she'd have to rescue them from the fire, like firefighters do with cats stuck in trees, but it'd stress her out and there'd be bunnies everywhere, and she'd feel like she has to do something to fix it, and it'd make her frustrated and stressed out, and it'd take away something cute that might make her a little bit happy after this shitty, awful day. I should've just died before breakfast."     Rather than tossing the cigarette into the pile of kindling at her disposal, Petra abrutly puts it out by pressing it into the back of her hand, hissing in pain and leaving an angry red circle in its place. "Like come *on*! What the fuck! Of course I care about Lilian! If she decides she'll point a gun at someone, I'll support her! Because I fucking *trust* her, obviously. Because I'm not taking *every* opportunity to just needle her and shut her down all the time, and trying to act like she's dangerous or sick or stupid, and trying to look morally superior to her all the time. Maybe I just think she's fucking *smart*, actually. Come *on*."
Petra Soroka	Petra heaves out a sigh, sagging back against the hay bale wall shielding her from view, even though it stabs into her exposed neck and arms. Smelling a bit more like cigarette smoke, tear tracks roughly scrubbed away beneath her bloodshot eyes, she clambers back to her feet and dutifully checks the temperature of the food items to make sure that the cloche-like bubbles kept the sandwich warm. "Petra. Where are you? You better not have run off with my American card."     "Um, sorry," Petra's voice comes through just a bit more phlegmy than before, "I'm on my way back. I'll be right there."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru's best friend, Seija, is someone only a few people have met. But that she is, ah, 'argumentative' is no secret to those who have. Petra's behaviour is in some ways familiar to Shinmyoumaru, if not her attitude or reasons for having that behaviour. (Though, it's probably a bad thing to be compared to an amanojaku's behaviour...) Shinmyoumaru isn't going to push Calvin about it, though. She gives him a bright smile before she runs off after Dysnomia. "Okay!" she says; he doesn't need to apologize to *her* but she's glad that the rest of this trip won't be... Well, it might still be awkward but it will at least not be viciously awkward. Which is a plus. Having missed out on getting to meet the bunnies, which she would probably have liked, and seeing sad angry girls again, which she probably would have liked less, and self-destructive girls, which she would have liked not at all, Shinmyoumaru tags along with Dysnomia. Shinmyoumaru *does* have sharp eyes for small things, but she doesn't recognize what the oil means until Dysnomia points it out, and then she's off to the races. The tractor prints are weird. Tractors don't walk... or do they? Shinmyoumaru could make a tractor walk by waking it up, but it would probably still want to roll. "It's like a big animal!" is Shinmyoumaru's opinion. "I thought tractors were vehicles." Like the van. That one certainly is. "Hey, you shouldn't be running around out here! This is part of the fairground, but it's reserved for the tractor rides. Why don't you two hop on the wagon and I can take you back with the rest of these folks when we're done?" Shinmyoumaru had been about to say why she was out here, but Dysnomia's flat 'no' made her realize: what if these are the people who took the tractor? Or what if the people who did were listening? And there's one other thing that she can get away with that other people often can't - Shinmyoumaru looks in the direction Dysnomia indicated the steam plume, nods to herself twice, and then starts running that way. "I just want to go look!" she calls at the tractor crew. "It's okay!" She makes pretty good time... ...but just to be sure they lose her, she smacks herself on the head with the Mallet. "Be small," she mumbles, under her breath - it's not like she *has* to yell it every time, right? To everyone else, Shinmyoumaru vanishes into the grass. But she runs through it at only a couple inches tall, going *real* fast for her height - she actually makes a human running pace, half-running and half-bounding like a bug as she follows whichever tracks point in the direction of the steam plume while she's low enough and small enough to see them no matter what, and nobody else can see her to make her stop. If tracking fails, she'll just orient in that direction... hopefully she can figure out which way she's facing down this low! She can catch up with, or be caught up by, the others later.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"No."     The driver pales. "Oh, gee, uh, I'm awful sorry, miss. I'll just give you a good dozen yards' head start off to one side and do my best to keep outta your way, that alright?" By the time he finishes speaking, Mia's already en route to the treeline with Shinmyoumaru vanishing into the grass. As the elites draw near to the dark shape - presumably the tractor - it hasn't moved very far, instead doing its level best impression of a fallen tree or something. It's not a very good impression to someone who can see in thermal.     On catching up to the tractor, it proves to indeed be a tractor, but instead of rolling away it's *walking*, bending and lurching improbably to raise its wheels up with each 'step'. It looks sort of like a cartoon come to life, and sort of like an engineer's waking nightmare. As the Elites slow to match its pace it turns, and the unlit lamp on its front 'blinks' like a single vacant eye. And hey, shouldn't this thing not be able to move without a driver?