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Lilian Rook	Your advance warning of Lilian's next little adventure isn't much less vague and cryptic than the last one, but it's certainly less alarming. It also gave you at least a couple of days to prepare (after being huffed at about how she didn't ask anyone to come), which is to be appreciated given that you're arriving by the same means as before partway up a mountain.     Outside the freezing chill and the remote heights, you don't seem to be under immediate threat; at least not compared to last time. But though you see half-scoured taiga in the process of regrowth around you, and three pristine snow-capped peaks above you, turning back shows you only the tapestry of black-mottled green fading away into desolate grey dust and craters more numerous than the surface of the moon.     Frost clings to the surface of corroded metal where it lies half-buried in the dunes, gathered perpendicular to the mountain's slopes, as if they were flat and you were angled, but the ice doesn't reach the ground. The peaks of rusted wrecks lie tangled with countless frozen bones, seldom alike, such that the lower down you look, the more it comes to resemble a glittering and fadedly rainbow-pebbled beach.     The sky is blue, the air is crisp, the weather is as warm as it's going to be for the rest of the year, and moss gathers on the sunny side of some primitive cousin of the Kana. Water fills its aged footprints, frozen into rigid shape. Arina awaits without waiting for you. Her combat skin is only visible as a sliver at her neck, under the layered vestments of someone who speaks to the sky.     Her feet are planted on a flat mossy stone that clearly wasn't there before, and she stands between a trio of cairns that each support a rod of countless blue ribbons and knotted cords that she must have brought herself. Each is topped with something that has burnt down to its smouldering dregs. The smoke makes you faintly dizzy to breathe.     It's unusual to hear such a quiet person singing, never mind so loudly. You'd almost wonder if she couldn't save up all her voice until now, but her tuning is immaculate, losing none of her particularly clear soprano resonance. You can't make out words, but the tones are somehow suggestive of them all the same, rising and falling at narrow intervals that bring to mind braille as much as sheet music.     But what stands out more is that you could swear that something is humming along. You can only barely hear it, at the very edge of your upper range, but you can feel it keeping pace by the ringing in your skull. It comes from above you, and all around you. Perhaps from very far away, beyond the sky, or perhaps it is the sky.     Arina is so focused on her task she may as well be comatose. She doesn't respond to any greeting even if you can somehow get one through. The culmination of something that has taken long enough to leave smoking coals carries out only a minute after your arrival. A great squeezing of pressure and leaving of air, like the sky crushing down around you whilst losing its blue and breathable substance. Something thrums on the surface of your skin, or perhaps your skin is what is thrumming; resonating with a wavelength you do not know, and singing like a rim of glass.     The pressure breaks with a tremendous blast of thunder, and tidal wave of wind, bending back trees and blowing away the gathered stones with a solid force of air that flows like floodwater, carrying with it an impenetrable mist of snow from miles above. There is no flash of lightning; only an epicenter where an invisible bolt would have struck.
Lilian Rook	The snow goes with the wind, and blows away over the grey deadlands past you. The sight you're left with is nearly identical, save that there is now only one peak to the mountain, and the faintest glimmer like a second, tiny sun, perpetually frozen at cresting it. Arina sways on her feet, leans heavily on her staff, and breathes out a frost-soaked sigh through her mask, which she pushes up and to one side so that she can at least see you out of one eye.     "Oh you're . . ." she begins to say, sounding woozy in a sense more faraway than exhausted. "Sorry. Are you here again, or are you yet to come here? I guess it doesn't really matter. What we do will be, or it has already been and we can't help but do." Arina says it as if it were a common saying; pithy and obvious. She stops and rubs her eye, suddenly reacquiring light sensitivity.     "Um. Altai. That's where. Sister Ural is with us, though. Uch-Sumer . . . We don't have to go all the way. Just past the outer and inner meaning, to the alternative meaning. The Belukha at the peak of Uch-Sumer. Nnugh." Reaching for a water bottle hanging from her waist, Arina stops to take an extremely deep drink, gags as if she might be sick, swallows it down, and wipes her mouth on her furred sleeve. "Sorry. Sorry. What am I saying? You can't bring iron to Shambala anyways. She's going to meet us, or already did? A while ago. Ahead. Um. Ouh . . . sorry."     Arina momentarily gives up standing, and plants herself on the edge of the rock, staring at the sky and breathing in, then shutting her eyes in the sunshine. "Kalachakra . . . it was something about the 'time wheel' or 'the cycles of time' or something . . . I'm already forgetting it though. Well, it's okay. It's all okay anyways. This is the place of threes, and I'm of three, and the third of three in which the Commander is one, and she is the third of three threes but . . . the one of a four? No that doesn't fit. That doesn't belong on Earth. Up to the navel and send it away to where it belongs? No? Oh. It's a different three, haha. I feel so silly. She's carrying two of a three, as a third in the three that she wants to give them back to. So it's just the Kalachakra on Belukha, at the gates of the pure land, to make it pure."     Arina wobbles one more time, and looks away from staring into nowhere, addressing to you specifically, "Sorry. I feel really sick. Um. We went up the mountain to where the Commander is, so she's waiting with us for us just ahead."     Street pass ping. HAZEL: Hi! HAZEL: Sakura is here! HAZEL: She can't see really well here so it's kind of confusing for me. HAZEL: But I'm helping! HAZEL: I guess I already helped. HAZEL: CHERRY: Hello. Have I done this right? HAZEL: Arina is fine too. HAZEL: She's pretty young. CHERRY: Hello? HAZEL: My mother used to throw up after. HAZEL: Hi Sakura! CHERRY: I'm happy you can hear me. HAZEL: Sakura is always letting me see like she does, so I helped her talk like I do!
Angela	Angela isn't able to send Rabbit Team again--it's too expensive to use them too frequently and they weren't even helpful except in repeating the experiment of whether physical force can harm Ash. Angela is at this point confident in the results of the experiment (always important to repeat it) and now is intent to lend a hand once more. Coming as the Eggpack means she has the Eggpack's mechanical limbs, at least, which means that she can hold something. Cinder is also on this mission. When she asked Angela what her job was going to be, she was told her job was to hold up Fourth Match Flame and keep it ignited. The flame provides some resistance against the cold. Its story is to be the last warmth you feel when in the cold. But hopefully in this case, the heat will last long enough. There is singing. Angela hums along for a few notes before clearing her throat. "Miss Arina." No response. Or rather, the response seems to be a flash of lightning. Cinder instinctively brings up her arm to protect her face. ''What we do will be, or it has already been and we can't help but do.'' "Unfortunately." Angela doesn't argue. ''You can't bring iron to Shambala.'' "...I am uncertain as to the material composition of the Eggpack but as you said, we already did what we went to do and it will happen since we already did it. So there is no need to apologize to us, Miss Arina. We will do what we have already done." Random, strangely enough, seems to be the other Agent Angela has brown along today. Their strange mace, which seems to carry a galaxy in the orb at the head, is on their back and not doing much at all. They seem a little uneasy about being along for this job, hearing a few details here and there from Shajo and Cinder. "I think by 'bringing iron' they mean firearms? I think it's slang for firearms." ''Streetpass!'' Angela's screen swivels back towards Petra. "Could you tell Sakura and Nika hello for me? I am prepared to draw more rats." Yes, she thinks, this is already going better than before. She holds up a ~(  ):> that she has already drawn on a piece of paper, looking incredibly smug.
Tamamo	Tamamo has no choice but to arrive bundled up. Her winter coat is one she's worn to the Urals before, and any less than this would be intolerable. Even with it, she's keeping herself warm with little bounces off her heels. Maybe she can stay still for a bit after getting warmed up properly.     Contrary to that appearance, standing near her has the magical effect of warming up anyone else, just a little.     While she'd like to greet Arina, she has to wait for a bit, until she can finally say, "Have you been well, Ms. Arina? It has been some time since I have seen you like... well, no, I suppose I have not seen you quite like this. Would like you something for your stomach? I have warm drinks, as well, but the more bitter may not agree with you, at the moment. Do you take sugar in your tea?"     Presently, there's a ping from her pocket, and Tamamo delicately retrieves a 3DS. After all the times before, she's now better prepared. She has to fuss with her gloves a little before she can open it, but with the snow receded, it's not so bad to take them off. TAMAMO: Good evening! TAMAMO: It is good to see you both. TAMAMO: Have you tried the drawing brushes, Sakura-chan? TAMAMO: Having the ability to send one's art so easily is quite interesting, is it not? TAMAMO: I only wish it could convey brush pressure, as well. Perhaps there is some way this could be solved.     "Kalachakra, is it? I had not expected to hear of the Cycle, today, and yet, I suppose it should be well expected. To grow, bloom, and bear fruit are all part of that oldest cycle, and we are so concerned with the growth of trees, are we not?" That's not likely to be clear to everyone, but she's already moving on, so it may not have been important, either. "Let us go and meet with her."
Xion	After several sudden and startling summonings, Xion was appreciative of getting a little lead time on the next bit of work supporting Lilian. Wearing an 'X' of cheek bandaids across a persistent scratch across her face - one black, one white - Xion arrives at the cryptically explained location she had been prewarned about. Dressed and draped in black on black, since she's not expecting a fight right out she wears her coat zipper-opened to show two silver necklaces: a shuriken-X and inverted-heart-spine charm over tank top. Thankful she's been dragged right to the explainer without having to dash after Lilian one more time, Xion approaches the strange woman on the stone and offers a quick 'Hello!' - which grants her no response. So, she waits a while, and then tries again after a little bit. Summarily ignored the Nobody kicks her heel into the ground and grumbles at the stonewalling, dissatisfied but getting over it quickly by pulling out a little plastic supermarket bulk baggie of mixed jellybeans from the inside of her coat pocket and hunting for cinnamons and buttered popcorns in the dangerous seas of sugary treats. Huddling by Cinder and the Fourth Match Flame despite the poetic feeling of 'the last heat before the freeze' and its potential warmth's cost, Xion closes her coat up as if noticing the chill only when delayed and stopped into her idle posture. Only when she shivers does her breath mist out, only when she isn't going and doing. When Arina finally addresses Xion, the noirette politely idle-rocks and hand frets in the chill through the barrage of prophetic words and proper nouns she doesn't quite have context for, though she does offer an: "Oh, first time for us. Thank you for aasking!" At the end, Xion is left considering the meat of what Angela's agents and Tamamo drive at. "Well, if we can't bring weapons to someplace, that'll be difficult for me, but also, do you think it means anything about the connection to that 'other side'? That something like a weapon can't reach, can't get there. Ah, prophecy is so hard. Normally Zexion just tells me where to go, sheesh." "And... I'm glad you know about Kalachakra, because I'd start asking 'which chakra is that' and then get betrayed repeatedly by search engines and look really silly. It's a cycle of... rebirth?"
Kukuru	The last time Kukuru came out to Lilian's world, it was with little forewarning and time for preparation. This time around, she's prepared for the colder weather with a thick winter coat that goes all the way down to her knees and a hood with little flaps on the side to drape over her horns instead of just stabbing through it. She's brought a bag full of little pocket-size handwarmers, too, ready to pass those and the usual water bottles and snacks (spicy fish jerky) the moment anyone so much as hints at being thirsty or hungry or chilly. WIth things not being quite so rushed today, she even takes her time to actually walk alongside everyone, taking in the fresh air and letting her gaze just wander all over the place for both safety reasons and just looking for places that might look nice for a nap later. Hearing Arina before she sees her, she hums idly along with the unfamiliar singing as she follows the sound, only stopping when she hears someone or something else humming that isn't one of the group. "Is that a friend of Lilian's friend?" She asks aloud, closing her eyes for a moment as she feels the sound coming from far too many directions at once. It's not unpleasant, at least, altohugh she does have to tighten her hood flap over her horn briefly just to make sure she's hearing it right. Eventually, though, she gets up to where Arina herself is singing, and she doesn't try to snap her out of that song in favor of just listening. If it's important enough that Arina's focusing this hard, then an explanation can wait for later. Thankfully, Kukuru's not stuck waiting for too long as, instead of just standing there like a dope, she's instead hit by the burst of thunder and wind all at once. She's not exactly prepared for it, and she yelps softly while stumbling backwards and landing flat on her back, remaining there until the wind subsides. Once it does, Kukuru sits up, then languidly approaches Arina while slowly pushing herself up on the way over. "He-llooo... No, this is the first time, I thiiink. I don't get the rest of all that, but... You're Lilian's friend, riight?" As Arina gags on her own water, she wastes almost no time in actually hurrying over to her (she's still using her feet instead of teleporting). She offers her shoulder and a bottle of water on one side while the other hand holds up a clean towel from one of her many pockets, ready to dab at Arina's face to catch what she didn't with her sleeve. "Careful, dear... Now. We're here to help with the... Uhhh." Kukuru listens closely, but it's obvious even to someone who's never seen her before that almost everything Arina's just said has gone right over her head. Something does seem to pique her interest, though, and she reaches over to help steady Arina against herself while she wobbles around. "The two of those thingies she has... Do you mean the Murma-" Wait. No. That's wrong. "Mura.. Masas? Is that one of the.. Um. Ones that has to go somewhere else, then?" She pauses, then looks over at Xion and pats her side. "Would it help to put your stuff in here, then? I've got pleeenty of room for weapons unless... Even taking them out is a problem?"
Kukuru	Conveniently, Kukuru actually has a 3DS, but it's a 2DS (XL) and the touch screen is visibly scratched up. With the way she pecks at the onscreen keyboard, it's probably not too surprising why. KUKURU:  hello! KUKURU:  my name is kukuur. nice to meet you KUKURU:  (a crude heart drawing) KUKURU:  does sakura need glasses? i know where to get them cheap KUKURU:  and the lenses without breaking the bank KUKURU:  its easier if you treat this like finger painting tamomo KUKURU:  i saw these neat tablets that are even bigger KUKURU:  they might be better for drwaing :)
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Dress for the event     Arthur's godhood god-hood adapts well enough to bundle him up in some nice thick winter-wear, since a few days is more than enough for him to figure out his cosmetics menu again. Heading out to this peak is a fast-travel for Arthur, but he doesn't need his orbiting mini-suns for warmth this time. At least, not until later, and by then he has Tamamo to stand near. > Arthur: Greet!     Arthur's hassling cool-kid handshake is... nothing? It's not working? He blinks once when Arina's apparent absent response seems more intense than most, flubbing one of his grips and grabs. Something tingles, pricking up hair on his neck. Peaks are gone, and Arthur's pretty certain time-shit happened. He didn't really connect much with Arina himself, but he knows the others did when it came to ops in this area. So he mutters, "This normal...?" And proceeds. > Arthur: Interpret respectfully     "I'm gonna be SO REAL WITH YOU GIRL." Arthur's over-familiar hand on a shoulder is so serious. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND half of goddamn ANYTHING about TIME, especially when you SAY IT LIKE THAT. Ya need some DRAMAMINE or somethin'?" He says, with a focused emphasis. "'Cause I actually DON'T HAVE ANY." They should invent a kind of boy who is helpful and respectful.     Arthur joins the pictochat as well. Obviously. He's actually alchemized it straight into a pair of sunglasses, which improves his response rate but sometimes makes his pictures a little weird. PB: WHAT UP GIRLS PB: hey SAKURA good READIN YA PB: LILIAN'S gonna MEET US? PB: or do we go up that MOUNTAIN and MEET HER? PB: i'm actually SUPER CONFUSED right now PB: because i DIDN'T PAY ATTENTION and i'm SORT OF STUPID PB: I feel like maybe I missed some shit while I was running around on teleport duty all op last time, you give us enough to open up a recap lore-entry and I'll be good.
Petra Soroka	Petra wouldn't have been inclined to miss anything to do with helping Lilian or the Blooms at any point, however much she was or wasn't needed. Ever since Ash, though, it's practically all she can think about; for helping Ash, of course, but Lilian too, especially after her pretty severe fuckup earlier, and thinking intently about Nika and Sakura and how it *does* feel undeniably true that they're still falling far short of their individual forms of actualization. Petra can't help agreeing that self-actualization necessarily involves *anger*, and Nika, Sakura, and even Lilian, feel tethered by lacking it.     Today doesn't do anything to address that, probably. But it places Petra 'here', and being co-extant with Events is a deep, ravenous need for Petra, especially when she's obsessed with the subject of the events. Involvement with the story is proof that Petra exists, and as she's told Ash a hundred times, she'd rather her presence ruin things that she cares about, than be isolated for even a moment.     Anyways, she's here now! And her goal is to either indelibly embed herself into the hearts of the special girls she cares about like radiation poisoning, further alienating them from humanity by the hate-filled radicalization she infuses them with, or, to help!     A turtleneck under her old bomber jacket, with a triangle scarf pulled up to her chin, both keeps Petra cozy in the mountain air, and makes her look a lot like she did last time she stepped foot in the Urals. The main differences are that she no longer looks like a harried little animal-- it might be her bearing, or it might literally be true that she grew half an inch since that time-- and the fact that she didn't come here alone. On her back is the clunky metal Eggpack, pulled tight over her shoulders and hefted like a sherpa's bag, thumbs hooked into the straps.     The loud singing surprises her, but after wincing and adjusting, she's sure it'll be over soon. A minute later, she slowly loses confidence that it'll end any time soon, and starts ambling around with her boots crunching the snow to poke at the moss-covered mecha. It's a fascinating little military toy, and more than that, the combination of the mech and the location fills Petra with an acute awareness of the absence of 'usefulness' that she's felt ever since coming to terms with being mechless. She's recounting an abridged explanation of the time they met Oreshnika, with a particular focus on her own role-- as you naturally do when telling stories!-- when Arina finally stops singing.     Petra stares bemused at Arina for a bit until she stops babbling prophetic nonsense, awkwardly attempting to cut the interaction short with a little wave, but mostly just waiting. Then, as she's opening her mouth to actually say something, she remembers Satsuki's reaction and quickly switches tracks to apologize preemptively.     "Um. Hi, Arina. Sorry I'm here-- er, sorry about everything, before. I'm here to help, so-- just let me know where I'm needed."     Looking around at the new landscape, Petra ventures a question of her own. "So, uh, what'd we need to blast those mountains for?" "I think by 'bringing iron' they mean firearms?"     Petra hangs close to Random and Cinder, of course. Most of the old Control Team's back together, except for their Captain, and the one we don't talk about anymore! "I think it's, like, way older than that. Like a fairie thing with iron. Guns are barely even real."
Petra Soroka	HAZEL: Hi! SILKE: Nika!! SILKE: omg sakura too HAZEL: She can't see really well here so it's kind of confusing for me.     ·FACT: NIKA AND SAKURA ARE BOTH UNABLE TO SEE WELL.     ·FACT: NIKA APPRECIATES BEING INVOLVED IN MISSIONS AND FEELING USEFUL.     ·FACT: SAKURA USES HER SCRYING SO OFTEN THAT SHE KNOWS A MASSIVE AMOUNT ABOUT NOT JUST THE BLOOMS, BUT MOST OTHER THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN THIS WORLD.         ·ASSUMPTION: THIS LIKELY MEANS SAKURA WOULD FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ISOLATION, HELPLESSNESS, AND/OR BLINDNESS.     ·CONCLUSION: IT IS BENEFICIAL TO BOTH OF THEM IF PETRA KEEPS THEM IN THE LOOP. SILKE: oh!!!!! if you can't see i have an idea SILKE: remember that ratbot i promised? that ange drew for you SILKE: i don't have a totally working one yet but i've got a prototype that i can rig up one sec     Petra shuffles around the moss-covered mech until she gets to a point that's sufficiently exposed, and rubs a hand on it to swipe the metal clear. When her purple-haired reflection is visible in the chassis, Petra presses her hand to it and pulls a new ratbot out of her mirrored hand, this one uniquely having... a Gameboy link cable for a tail. She plugs the cable into her DS, turns the bot on so it hovers into the air, then gets back to tippy-typing on Pictochat with her morphmetal stylus. SILKE: THIS SILKE: is Ruble. are you able to hear him at all? SILKE: he's got a camera, and every few minutes he'll do this     Petra lets go of the DS, which keeps hanging in the air by Ruble's antigravity, and circles around in front of the ratbot to quickly flash a peace sign for the camera along with Cinder. In Pictochat, the program Petra made rapidly transcribes the frame of Ruble's camera snapshot into a monochrome but accurate picture, in as high-fidelity as Pictochat can manage.     PETRA is now equipped with EGGPACK, RATBOT, NINTENDO DS, and TELEKINETIC MORPHMETAL STYLUS.
Lilian Rook	'Have you been well, Ms. Arina? It has been some time since I have seen you like... well, no, I suppose I have not seen you quite like this.'     "London." Arina blurts out, the blearily shakes her head. "No, um, Kagoshima. Sorry. I keep thinking about London for some reason. I'm . . . I'm promoted, I think. And there's a party at home. For reaching Blade Silver. I think we're slightly after that? Yes." She blinks several times, rubs her eyes, and resumes staring at Tamamo. "That makes three. That's great. Um. Tea? A little . . ."     'To grow, bloom, and bear fruit are all part of that oldest cycle, and we are so concerned with the growth of trees, are we not?'     Arina squints intensely. "Yes. There was something about trees. Definitely blooms. The cold iron flower and the hot lightning-glass-- Oh, we're-- yes, the Commander explained. Mostly. I think?" CHERRY: Good evening, Tamamo-dono. CHERRY: Is that too formal? This seemed like a letter, to me. HAZEL: Hi Tamamo! CHERRY: I have. They are most of what I have tried, actually. HAZEL: I'm showing her how! HAZEL: It was really hard to get another DS! CHERRY: It was a matter of security, given the serial of the device and the nature of a specific link. HAZEL: I didn't think Sakura was too old for videogames, but I guess she is? HAZEL: Knowing about them I mean. HAZEL: She can play them pretty good by now. CHERRY: I'm honoured that you recognize the small skills I have obtained. HAZEL: I think that maybe is too formal     'Unfortunately.'     Arina nods gravely. "Don't worry. Everything is going off-track. None of this was supposed to happen since the Commander . . . um . . . I forget. But since it's all going wrong, maybe it will be okay this time?" She laughs weakly. "We can't go to Shambala anyways, don't worry! If we were trying to be holy, no women would be allowed, and that would make this really hard!"     'Oh, first time for us. Thank you for asking!'     Arina frowns. "That doesn't sound right." she says, but no matter how she ponders it with a fat little lower lip expression, the rest doesn't come. "No I'm definitely forgetting. Or if it's the first time then I'm seeing it now an speaking to you then, so it's fine. We just have a little ways to go."     'The two of those thingies she has... Do you mean the Murma-'     Arina shakes her head, wobbles back up to her feet, and starts breathing as deeply as if she's trying to excavate something from the floor of her lungs. "Ugh. Um. No. Not those. Why would she . . . ?" She catches herself against Kukuru, but maintains her balance after. "Thank you. Thanks. I'll be-- I am fine? Yes. I'm just going to use . . . um, I did use, maybe, a little too much? I think I saw some things that maybe I wasn't looking for."
Lilian Rook	She points one gloved finger up at the peak, and says "Only most of the way. And this is . . . two thirds? Already. There are a lot of shrines at the umbilical of the world." She waits only long enough to accept incoming warmy tea, transferred to a thermos immediately (even if already given to her in a thermos) so she can sip it while she walks; and walk she does, planting her staff heavily with every step. "The fighting never got much further than this. But they abandoned it a long time ago, and went west. Chasing in its wake, after it began to flee, all the way to Sister Ural." CHERRY: Hello, Kukuur. CHERRY: My eyes are well, but thank you for asking. CHERRY: The place you are, like the other remaining holy mountains of Earth, is difficult to scry upon. CHERRY: That is what Oreshnika refers to as seeing. HAZEL: Because it's seeing. HAZEL: I can see it. With my eyes. HAZEL: Just not with the photons. HAZEL: Do you know what a photon is Kukuur?     'a need some DRAMAMINE or somethin'?'     "Um. That would be nice. Actually." says Arina, already starting to sound queasy, though her steps are gaining back their steadiness as she goes. "I hope it doesn't interact. But--"     'Cause I actually DON'T HAVE ANY.'     "O-o-oh . . ." HAZEL: Arthur that was kind of mean. CHERRY: You sound very confused. Lilian is just ahead of you, isn't she? CHERRY: Perhaps you should try jogging. HAZEL: Be nice to Arina okay? HAZEL: We just did a singalong so we're friends now. CHERRY: For certain reasons, Lilian must visit this specific place, at the center of several significant 'threes' in arcane formulary, to access certain energies that run parallel to the central axis of the realms. HAZEL: I know that's not actually how it works but I like how it goes like that in movies. HAZEL: So deal with it! CHERRY: I am certain she will explain it shortly, though I cannot see into the future. HAZEL: Casual! CHERRY: This has nothing to do with that. But it is very important. 'This' may be a turning point around which 'that' is struck from another angle. Consider it a 'loyalty mission'. If I am correct. HAZEL: Respect the singalong or I'll steal your chao garden data and wipe your memory card! HAZEL: Oh hi Petra.     'Um. Hi, Arina. Sorry I'm here-- er, sorry about everything, before. I'm here to help, so-- just let me know where I'm needed.'     "Everything before hasn't happened before so I forgive you that it will happen." Arina says, half-confidently, over the crunch of her boots going from frozen grass to powdered snow. "Ruining and saving again and again, your going always forward makes your mistakes form a cycle, and that's just appropriate, since the wheel has to turn to get where time is going." The half-nonsense comes out freely enough to read tone, and that is Arina feeling uncomfortable and a little avoidant of Petra, but more prone to turn her back and hunch up a little rather than put on her formal speak and treat Petra like dirt as Satsuki. "Just so we can touch space."
Lilian Rook	HAZEL: Arina took like HAZEL: A LOT HAZEL: Of medicine. HAZEL: It's normal though don't worry. HAZEL: I got shown how to do it but I never got it right. HAZEL: It used to really worry my mother because I was supposed to come back here one day. HAZEL: There's supposed to be something if I finish the pilgrimage and all. HAZEL: But I couldn't understand anything she meant, and I never got any of the magic right, so it's probably not possible. HAZEL: She used to tell me about it though. HAZEL: About when the sea of ghosts came all the way up to the snow line and when she chased them all the way here with her friends. HAZEL: The ghosts wanted to go back to the other world I guess, since they were always trying to get to the top, and they never came down from anywhere. HAZEL: Had something to do with the moon? HAZEL: idk HAZEL: Arina is fine.     With Arina following along on what must be Lilian's precise instructions leaves little room to stray into unproductive side paths slash Antegent-based certain suicide. There is indeed about two or three day's hike ahead of you, which due to the nature of who you actually are, averages out to a couple of hours of floating, flying, clambering, stable short-distance teleporting, and otherwise shooting a path as the crow flies. Arina is restricted only to crunchy staggering for a little while before the Immunes background kicks in, and then you're on pace to arrive somewhere before nightfall. She and Lilian must both have set out at dawn. HAZEL: RUBLE! HAZEL: HI! HAZEL: I LOVE HIM! CHERRY: You've become very thoughtful, Soroka. CHERRY: Do not worry. I don't blame you for your little secret. CHERRY: Thank you for doing your best today, too. HAZEL: Is that a photo? HAZEL: Wow! HAZEL: ? HAZEL: We saw that one. CHERRY: I appreciate it greatly all the same. HAZEL: That's a really weird bug. CHERRY: It nearly feels as if I am there. HAZEL: Where's Lilian?     Your hike continues for a few minutes as the pleasant patter of back-and-forth conversation runs its course. Tracts of unstable snow are no real obstacle. Groves of dwindling boreal trees give you clear landmarks to aim for. The remains of some ancient stand of humanity taper out to ice-filled trenches and lushly colonized craters, corroded steel and titanium giving way to the sparse remains of decades old camps. The skeletons of tents, the splintered trunks of towers, plastic tarps left as the only evidence of supply yards and deep divots where prefab buildings once were, all slowly reclaimed by either green or white; buried and preserved, or consumed and made living.     Your path takes you past a high ridge and a thick copse atop it, briefly cutting off your view to the east, and then clear of it. The brief interruption of sight makes Lilian almost appear out of thin air. She herself stops in the snow, only twenty meters away, ostensibly surprised by your sudden convergence of paths too. She turns back over her shoulder to look at Tamamo and Xion behind her, whilst Arthur and Kukuru fiddle with their handheld consoles, Petra next to Cinder with Matchflame lit, showing off her robot. Lilian looks back to you, and so do the rest. HAZEL: Oh. HAZEL: I'm not supposed to talk to you.
Lilian Rook	. . . . . . . . . . . .     "I think she'll be fine. It's . . . well, not regular practice, but it's a known procedure. Tea couldn't hurt. Thank you Tamamo."     "Isn't that a tantra? About the cyclical nature of . . ."     "It's not about guns. It's literal. One of those old-- very specific beliefs. The way to the holy land where you're struck blind for disobeying the precepts. Don't worry too much about it; we're not on pilgrimage anyways."     "Betrayed by . . . ? Oh god don't tell me."     "I left those where they belong. I'm . . . it's something special. You'll understand soon. I promise."     "Don't be a shithead, Arthur. I know you can't be respectful of other cultures to save your life, but at least be nice."     "What on earth is with his tail?" "I've told you before that 'the faerie thing' isn't even about iron before. Come on."     . . . . . . . . . . . .     You're knee deep in snow. Out of breath. Taxed, perhaps a little bloodied, but remembering how only comes slowly. Events trickle into your head like cold tar, or rather, they come apart like badly tangled hair, one stinging prickle at a time. It smells like fire and iron and smoke, and you can't help breathe it for a moment. And you're much closer to the top of the mountain than you remember. Or rather, you're remembering now. The way down is painted with blood, and it's not yours. "Are you . . . even Petra? How is that possible?" "Oh no . . . oh god . . . oh no no no no--" "Stop and just explain it already!" "Isn't it-- Can't you tell? It's already-- It was here! It's already here! It was still here!"     Lilian looks away from talking to Arina, and to the rest of you in sequence. "Hey. You remember why you're here, right? I checked the Nintendo logs and it's all there. Do you feel anything wrong? Anything out of place?"
Angela	It is a -FACT: that Angela also wants to be involved and feel useful and so she frowns when she cranes her head and sees that Petra hasn't actually said hello on her behalf to Nika OR Sakura. Or even mentioned her impressive rat. And then answers RANDOM of all people. Which Random doesn't help by pointing out to Angela, "I don't think they can hear you so you have to use the picture writing program, ma'am." Random says to Angela. "I do not have a 'Picture Writing' Program." Angela complains. "And even if I did, it wouldn't be ''there'', it would be here, where they aren't watching." Cinder, who is on this job to be a literal torch, frowns at the Eggpack for a momnt before brightening a bit as Xion gets close. "Is it helping?" She asks. "I know it's not exactly blazing out there..." She might say more but she's getting pulled into a picture with Cinder. She flashes a slightly incorrect peace sign of her own, trying to mimic Petra, for the picture. Angela frowns further, but at least some manner of rat picture has been sent, which mollifies her a little bit. But not by much. She wants to be involved and feel useful. ''I think it's, like, way older than that. Like a fairie thing with iron.'' "Really? huh... But then..." They look to Angela. "The Eggpack might have iron in it, you said, right?" "It might." Angela admits. "I am not a roboticist but it is a common material for machines. If you must leave me at the entrance, I will simply focus on the facility in the meanwhile and let Cinder and Random be my hands." Thinking like that does mollify her a little further, though she had always thought Yuri would've been her 'other hand' in situations like this. The one that nobody talks about anymore. And it'll probably not change today. And then everybody runs into each other. Both Angelas, simultaneously, say, "Another Angela!--we have to kill her--" immediately. And then... Well, Angela obviously isn' a little bloodied, or out of breath, but she does seem vaguely furious and unsettled. Cinder's EGO weapon seems more smoldering, Random has some wounds across their left arm. They look at the path behind them and seems uneasy. "This is weirder than I'm used to--" "Hnn...." Angela presses a button. "Hokma come up here. Yes. I know. Hurry up."
Arthur Lowell	PB: WHAT PB: CMON PB: i can't be lugging DRAMAMINE EVERYWHERE PB: FOURTH-LETTER INVENTORY ITEMS gonna UNBALANCE MY TREE MODUS PB: AND PB: wait PB: what's that > Future Arthur: What's that?     (Future?) Arthur's weightless drifting falters (will falter) again. It is (will be) really hard to maintain the casual antigravity when he has gone through (will have gone through) what he did (will). > (Past?) Arthur: Call and response, like the old days     His breath is (will be) struggling and ragged. "Future! Code's-- hang on..." He shakes his head (will shake his head). "Steel-Ink-Steel-Rock, Bone-5!"     "The fuck is-- Gah. Past! Code's bone, ink, rock, steel-7! What the *fuck* is happening with time-loops if this shit is going on?! The Timesweeper's busted!" Past Arthur calls (called) out with a combination of flustered surprise and almost a kind of annoyance.     Arthur has (in both perspectives) a lot of very old, very confused, very unprofessional experience in dealing with looping time. Past Arthur was first to instantly reply. "Dunno, Lilian, just got here!" Future Arthur will struggle to shout over his past counterpart, "Shit's hella unclear! Whatever time-shit just happened wiped a bunch, I got fuckin' *nothing*. Gimmie a minute-- Wait, is something peeling up our timelines? Did I just get a bunch'a past stripped out of me?" > Arthur: Go on alert NOW! Arina's the one who knows where it is!     Past Arthur figured it out, mostly. Something messing with time? Something messing up his future, or messing with Lilian? Was *he* a doomed temporal offshoot now? Or was his future? No-- don't think about that. Just focus. He drew a broom and called out to Arina: "Hey!! I can't aim at when, but I can get any*where*! Where's *here* that *it's* bein', or was, or will be?! I got *nothing* for time-crap, I need *places*!"
Tamamo	First of all, Arina is sufficiently supplied with tea. Is that too formal? This seemed like a letter, to me. TAMAMO: One writes a letter to open a conversation, having not spoken in some time, no? TAMAMO: One writes of passing seasons and growing infants. TAMAMO: The passage of time is less, here. That is the difference, perhaps.     'O-o-oh . . .'     "What is dramamine?" Arina took like A LOT Of medicine. TAMAMO: What is drama-mean?     'Ruining and saving again and again, your going always forward makes your mistakes form a cycle, and that's just appropriate.'     'It's a cycle of... rebirth?'     "The cycle of growth -- or else, its opposite -- toward enlightenment, including rebirth, yes. There was a kingdom formed of those who worshiped the Sun, and so, were cast out from another kingdom, though its king... oh, but perhaps, now is not the time for that. To achieve greater growth, for some meaning of 'greater,' is the goal of most living cycles, I might say. This is the root of both 'hope' and 'ambition.'" There is plenty of time to talk about it on the trek over, but whether the Shambala she'd know and the one Arina confusedly references are the same is impossible to determine for several reasons.     Tamamo takes some time trying to fit a scene with nine foxes into pictochat. Things have to get pretty abstract even before she settles for doing the image in two parts, but one can still make out that eight of the foxes, whiskered and sharp-eared, are hassling the central fox, which stands up on two legs and holds a plate of food(?) out of their reach. The sides of the frame suggest a forest. She can play them pretty good by now. I'm honoured that you recognize the small skills I have obtained. TAMAMO: Oh, what have you played? Will you recommend them?
Petra Soroka	"Ruining and saving again and again, your going always forward makes your mistakes form a cycle, and that's just appropriate, since the wheel has to turn to get where time is going."     "Er--" Petra winces, uncomfortable especially with the word 'cycle'. "I mean, I don't know if, uh, anything being destined or inevitable makes it forgivable, at all. I don't want to be excused. Just, you know, helpful." "O-o-oh . . ."     !     Oh wait! Petra *does* have one of those! Performing tangible care is a form of earning a tiny increment of forgiveness, so she gets on it immediately. She starts digging around for her first-aid kit, equipped with powerful curative tablets like ADVIL, TUMS, and DRAMAMINE, but then she stops and looks up at Arina, then back at Tamamo.     "Oh, uh, I have some, probably, but Tamamo might be a better bet for feeling better." CHERRY: This has nothing to do with that. But it is very important. 'This' may be a turning point around which 'that' is struck from another angle. Consider it a 'loyalty mission'. If I am correct. SILKE: ih thank god SILKE: those are so much easier SILKE: that's like the opposite of thinking really hard and i've had a lot of thinking hard lately HAZEL: I got shown how to do it but I never got it right. SILKE: yours doesn't make you barf though so who really wins SILKE: i'm not gonna tell arina i said that CHERRY: Do not worry. I don't blame you for your little secret. SILKE: um SILKE: thansk SILKE: thanks SILKE: . SILKE: oh god i justthought of a thousand secrets you could mean HAZEL: ? HAZEL: We saw that one. SILKE: ? SILKE: oh well we just got here SILKE: i don't think my DS could handle 30 fps pictochat spam SILKE: and you'd have to scroll /really/ fast SILKE: lilian went up ahead so we'll meet her soon "I am not a roboticist but it is a common material for machines."     "Nah, no iron." Petra taps on the side of the Eggpack, as if the little thud of her knuckles is precise enough to communicate its density. "Doctor Eggman was on this whole kick about not letting anything be magnetic when he made it, since Sonic had done some bullshit with a radio tower or something like that. So I just kept that up when adding the arms and stuff."     A hike in the mountains isn't the end of the world. Petra's bundled up, she can fairly easily fashion morphmetal skis (self-propelled!) to practically heelie her way around the path, and it's mostly nice company. The crisp mountain air, and the view-- bone-scattered and scarred by war being a *plus*, frankly-- never really get old, and Cinder keeps the cold from seeping in. There's points where Petra wonders why Arina had to be so far away from Lilian, and why they all had to be summoned near Arina instead of Lilian, but this is a *loyalty* test, so she's not going to question it. Maybe Arina might get attacked if she was alone! Who knows!     Ruble keeps sending Picturechats every short interval, and quickly enough, Petra forgets to pay attention to the timer of the camera. She keeps chattering, though, while the two distant Blooms receive their 0.003 FPS livestream updates.
Petra Soroka	HAZEL: I'm not supposed to talk to you. SILKE: huh? SILKE: or you'll get in trouble? SILKE: or is there some kinda infohazard thing happening maybe "Are you . . . even Petra? How is that possible"     Things get really confusing, really fast, and they've also always been confusing-- and that's not even an effect of the time loop! Petra is among the most familiar here with seeing a duplicate of herself, so that isn't the part that throws her off as hard as having her *memory* disjointed. Continuity of thought is one of the few things Petra is confident in maintaining within herself, and even though there's a spike of pleasant relief in not having been apart from Lilian for the past few hours, it's drowned out by the repulsed horror of immediately doubting the context of her existence.     Both Petras squeeze their eyes shut and lock up fully rigid. Fists clenched by their sides, jaws tense, every sense and every possible abrupt motion is effortfully banned from her list of options, to narrow down her internal dialogue tree. Without being certain what she's feeling or thinking, there's no point in seeing, moving, fighting, hardly even breathing, until reestablishing reality by the most trustworthy definition available.     ""... Lilian? What do you need us to do right now?""     "We're here to help you, or... when we got here Arina was singing. And then she did that Nika-type magic thing to blow up two mountaintops. And then we talked about her getting sick from it a bunch. And then Sakura and Nika joined us on Pictochat, and I showed them Ruble, who's-- wait, you know? And Arina was acting weird and talking loopy, and Nika said some stuff was off to her-- she said she'd seen a picture a sent her before."     Petra will just keep tensely bullet-pointing every experience and thought she had from the moment since getting to the mountain, until she's given further direction or told to stop. None of the Angelas have access to each other, because both of their mounts have shut down like a robot that slammed an emergency stop button because their psyches were caught in the escalator.
Xion	Xion is at least trying to be interested in desynchronized lore, as really, *all* lore is desynchronized when you really think about it and you have to learn enough that some of it becomes easy and known and others of it becomes what useful jigsaws you could put together of it. Edge pieces and colored pieces and just things that seem to vibe in the same space, without the precious box-art of knowing the 'big picture' before hand. Familiar with the odd ways things could start and lurching into the middle of a story blade-out, it was still difficult to figure out exactly on the page she was. Concerned, both for their thermos-sipping guide and for the once-more lack of Lilian, Xion falls in, stuffing fists into black coat pockets and pulling the ends about her center. 'I keep thinking about London for some reason.' "It gets in your head, doesn't it? I remember wanting to 'go back' to London, too, even though I had never gone. Is it anything like that? ... Losing time? Or waking up in strange places?" She has to walk and talk, and the cold edges in to known and 'getting to her', even if her breath only mists when she stops to talk or turns and pauses. As long as she keeps going, she can forget about it and be fine. A long period of platforming is a good time for Lilian to clear her head, whimsically selecting her segments and paths at determined that sets her springing between mountainous terrain segments and swinging among icy and snowy trees before going as far as deploying a snowboard for a monochrome keys and colorful snowboard for the slaloming path through the mixed features as the crow flied. It was only when she paused, and hung out, and swung around the periphery of the Fourth Match Flame and the determined hustle of Arina once the latter had recover her stride. "Have you ever been to London?" Xion remembers to ask, and then, faintly-guilty smiling, changes her swing to one-handed to rub her cheek thoughtful-bashful. "Or, well, maybe you will, and are getting the sneak peek. Sorry, I've heard oracle life is hard." Carrying on onto the ruins of tents leaves Xion unswinging and somberer, not liking to 'wahoo yippee!' through graveyards for the grim appreciation of ghouls and specters and those-that-held-on. That it's just an abandoned camp doesn't really change the shift in mood. "A cycle of 'hope' and 'ambition' both... So they go both ways?" The Nobody's arms pull from coatsides to point fingers up and out, crossed armed. "Like the roots of a tree?" Chewing on that more, the noirette takes a breath, closes her eyes, and falls in again-- Scowling at the cold that has finally gone over the knee-line, having not once failed to balance on the snowpack before, Xion first-again experiences cold and wet socks. Then, the soiled and sore Xion starts to remember more and understand less. "Did I try one of those dangerous medallions and not remember? Or..." Twenty meters away, it's Lilian! Wait, weren't they travelling with Lilian? Or did she come by before? But wasn't it the second time past Ariana? Twenty-and-change meters away, a second Xion. 'Another... me?' Her thoughts hammer, a moment of battle calculation. 'If they're not hostile, just drawing my Keyblades might prove it's me, but it'd also start a fight!' Xion's surprise turns to a falling-browed gaze. 'I'll have to do something that proves I'm me, without drawing a weapon. But how?' All her planning falls to a less-than-wise exhaustion with trying to prove her own self to a third party. She could do any number of things and instead asks the cold air: "Is this going to be a two Kale situation? I hope I'm the rude one, that'd make things easier."
Xion	'Hey. You remember why you're here, right? I checked the Nintendo logs and it's all there. Do you feel anything wrong? Anything out of place?' "Uh, no, I don't know why I was here, I got kind of," A wince, since 'no' was never the right answer. "-mixed messages for this walk. What's here? Since it's us - and I guess Arthur, but Arthur wouldn't go either I bet, he's a gamer - are we going to wherever you go if it's not Shembala? Should I start getting out colored bandannas?"
Kukuru	"I think I saw some things that maybe I wasn't looking for." "Oh, you should be reeeeal careful with that. I've gotten pretty light-headed before seeing too much stuff at once, too..." Kukuru replies with a light chuckle as she pats Arina on the back gently, still sticking close by even when Arina's able to stand properly on her own. She looks up towards the remaining peak afterwards, peering at it like that would help her understand more about what Arina means by the twos and threes. It doesn't no matter how long she stares at it like that, but she doesn't seem to want to give up trying anyway.  "So we're following this path they took... Made while fighting, then?" The place you are, like the other remaining holy mountains of Earth, is difficult to scry upon. Do you know what a photon is Kukuur? "Oh, that's why..." Kukuru talks at her 2DS, momentarily forgetting that she's on Pictochat as she's about to put it away. The absentmindedness kicks off for once, though, and she goes back to the screen. KUKURU:  hello sakura and oreshnika! KUKURU:  that's kukuru KUKURU:  do you need us to set up anything here? KUKURU:  or take pictures? KUKURU:  if its holy i guess we shouldn't break anything KUKURU:  i think i saw photond in a science book once KUKURU:  is it something that'll help lilian better? KUKURU:  can we get more? Getting some context for the 'threes' helps a fair bit, and Kukuru mulls over that while continuing to read the chat backscroll. She giggles lightly at the banter between Sakura and Oreshnika, not quite comprehending a lot of it, but zeroing in mentally on the note about Lilian needing to go to... Somewhere! "So that's why Arina was talking about all those numbers... And it's not-" She pauses again, then continues. "About the swords, but to do some other important thing, right?" She asks, looking over to Arina for confirmation and sticking close by in case she still needs support after reading what Oreshnika mentions about Arina taking so much medicine. She stays focused, too, instead of going after any suicidal paths, although her gaze does go off to those side paths every now and then because she can't not look at a bunch of stuff in passing. Naturally, teleporting ends up being a thing, and Kukuru's all too happy to help the group out/not actually walk much by opening up bigger clouds to make sure everyone can get through safely. She even makes sure to look awake and alert the whole time, pacing herself with the occasional pick me up from a thermos that she's careful not to drink from if anyone's too close by. Lilian's appearance catches her off guard, of course, but her demeanor brightens up considerably once she realizes Lilian's safely there with the group. Wait, isn't she missing some details there? Kukuru looks to her sides, noticing that the group is still there next to her, then forwards at Lilian with the group next to her as well. "That's not... Eh? What's going oooon?" She squints a bit, confirming that there aren't any mirrors or other things to mess with her vision there, and then to Lilian as she speaks.
Kukuru	"Remember...? Oh. We're here tooo... We came to help you find the three spot, mhm!" Kukuru chimes in helpfully, tilting her head slowly at Lilian's other questions. "Wait, yeeeah... When did we get all the way up this far, anyway?" There's other details she's starting to put together, too. She looks at her hands-no, her claws. When did she put those on? Who's blood is this? Kukuru purses her lips, then pauses again as she realizes she can smell smoke instead of just all that ice. More importantly, she can taste blood on her lips that most certainly isn't her own. Doubly importantly, she realizes there's a second Kukuru there. The two look straight at each other, raising their hands in sync in both greeting and testing, then giggling in surround sound at realizing they really are (probably) the same. ""He-llo there!"" ""Oh... Is that how I sound? Neeeeat..."" The two approach each other, then start poking at each other while looking at their respective groups. ""Now, now, everyone. It's kinda confusing right now, but... I'm sure we can all work together, okaaaay?"" Double the Kukurus means double the healing nanites going around, too, although the bloodier original does put them out a bit slower in comparison to the fresher double. They realize something, too, as they both recall what Lilian said about things being missing. They start doing a head count of everyone there. Everyone IS still there, right? It'll take them a few tries to remember to count themselves and each other, and they check their claws and the giant digits on each of them to make sure they total to six. Afterwards, they start tapping on their own teeth to make sure none of those are missing, too.
Lilian Rook	'Dunno, Lilian, just got here!'     "Arthur, you've been here the entire time." says Lilian, apparently too worried to dispassionately call him 'Lowell'. "Please slow down and let your head clear. Don't--" Arina flinches at being called out, and claps her hands over the sides of her hood, shoving her mask back into place with her chin. "I don't know! Don't ask me! It's not supposed to be here! It's supposed to be dead!" Lilian is quick to grab her arm and pull it away, pulling her by the opposite shoulder as well to interrupt her. "And you too for fuck's sake! You're supposed to be graduating the Academy soon! Are you taking the piss or do I have to tell them you fall apart under pressure outside the walls?!"     Checking Pictochat shows you a colourful scroll of messages that you'd forgotten about, yet certainly remember putting there. It's reassuring and chilling at the same time to see CHERRY: Gladly! and HAZEL: I thought you thought doing drugs was cool? and CHERRY: All of them. and HAZEL: Definitely don't take anything! and no sign at all of HAZEL: Oh.     Everything you sent, drew, recorded, and said; it definitely happened. You have the evidence of it right there. So why do you remember something that didn't?     'We're here to help you, or... when we got here Arina was singing. And then she did that Nika-type magic thing to blow up two mountaintops.'     Offhandedly saying "Relax, Arthur. I counted eight, excluding Angela. It's done.", Lilian carefully stops near Petra and watches her babble on with a certain kind of inexplicably uncomfortable energy. Winter coat over her armour, long cloth-wrapped box strapped to a lightweight backpack, looking for something, she listens carefully to the entire thing, nods faintly, then grabs Petra's face, yanks down on her jaw, and stares into her mouth for a second before she's satisfied. "Happy now?" she says, to Arthur, making no sense.     "Nika doesn't use magic." Lilian replies to Petra. "But you're stupid, so I believe you. And yes, I know about your rat; we did all that already." Lilian has to use her phone, for lacking a DS, rapidly tapping out a message of some kind (through her gauntlets?) and lapsing into silence. HAZEL: Yeah there was two. HAZEL: Two Ruble pictures. CHERRY: One of them contained you, and one was without, Lilian.     'Uh, no, I don't know why I was here, I got kind of, -mixed messages for this walk...Should I start getting out colored bandannas?'     "God I hope not." Lilian sighs, tense and still evidently stressed. "Okay. Okay, so, you remember running into your duplicates. And it stops there? I've heard that there were reports of short-lasting memory impairment after terminating one of your own doppelgangers, but it can't be anything psychic or else Petra and Arina wouldn't be unable to remember it. The only one there wasn't a--"     Lilian stops abruptly. Her eyes widen as she realizes something by talking it through.
Lilian Rook	"You remember hiking here without me, but not the battle? Do--" She glances past Xion, to the red staining in the empty snow. "--they actually experience existing? Before they meet humans to attack. Are they sentient? Do they believe they're us?" "I hate this! I hate this hates this hate thissss!" "What did I just--" "I know! Shut up! Sorry Commander! I'm not going to run away or lose it or anything! But it's really really really horrible so just let me scream!"     Lilian looks at Kukuru tapping her teeth and nods. "You really have started paying attention." she says, deeply misguided. "Angela? Did you notice anything? You watched everything through a screen, so you shouldn't have been in range. The duplicate of you would have to have been only an image. Did you receive multiple feeds? If not, which one?" She turns away, and presses her knuckles to her mouth in thought.     "So. Killing Mat' Prizrakov B-type duplicates makes you perceive . . . aware of? An illusion? Of an alternate, plausible timeline where they existed, up until your memories stop diverging? That's useful information, actually. So everyone here is an original but remembers being both the original and the fake, but not the time they interacted? Still, why was it here? We've confirmed its real location already . . . And why this?"     Stopping abruptly, Lilian lets down her shoulders and says, "I'm sorry. If you want to go home, I can make that happen."
Angela	The Angelas reached out with one another's robolimbs in an attempt to kill each other but Petras aren't moving which means that she can't reach herself. She had a sneaking suspicion that telling her own Agents to do this will not work because Cinder wouldn't and Random would at the very least hesitate allowing the other Random to kill her if she makes the first move. Angela frowned at this. NOW OR BEFORE? Angela had been presuming that they successfully murdered one another-- ''I counted eight, excluding Angela.'' Angela blinks once. "An image..." Angela murmurs and turns her head and tapes at another screen. She doesn't outright watch it but does push it forward via the scroll icon. "There is no fight. All data seems to be from ''our'' perspective rather than any duplicate perspective. But we certainly won the fight." And then she smirks smugly. "Clearly being the real Angela and not an image gave us the advantage we needed to secure victory." Cinder says, "Er...Is that...true?" "Otherwise it would be an even match." Angela says. ''I'm sorry. If you want to go home, I can make that happen.'' Angela shakes her head. "No. Of course not." Angela says. "This is the most helpful I've felt in some time. It is very enriching." Random sighs, probably wanting to have taken Lilian up on her offer.
Tamamo	Knee deep in snow. Out of breath.     'Stop and just explain it already!'     "The... purpose of a wheel is not to spin in place, but to go somewhere. Some are turned to climb upward, and others, to lurch forth. Some, however, do seem to go nowhere, and the turning is... dizzying."     Tamamo claps her hands to her cheeks, and shakes her head, pink-red hair fluttering past blue ribbons. "Hello, Lilian! We came to meet you, and... already met you, and walked here together, did we? Oh, dear. Which direction were we traveling? It can only be 'up' or 'down,' as the sun rises, or as it sets. It cannot be both, no matter how convoluted the path."     But there's only one Arina, and she was walking in only one direction, even if she claims to have already done this. "And where were you supposed to be, Ms. Arina?"
Xion	Feeling like she had zoned out at the start of some overusual content, a drive through woods at night, and awoken with flashlights in the eyes and thunks underneath her carriage, Xion tries to reassess and put things back in order again, and found that the jigsaw of her mindscape was too parted out to make sense of. Reaching for her jelly beans again, Xion pulls out the cold and hardened sugar treats, digging into bag and finding-- "Ugh, the *other* me ate all the good jelly beans." Xion complains, hitting two cold lollipop-hard jellybeans in licorice between her teeth and chewing to let the bitter sugar reset her mind. "I remember starting up the trail, but, you had gone ahead. We began alone, and I ate jellybeans and talked about trees and swung on branches and forgot to wear gloves and--" Stopping with an intake of breath, through nose, through clenched teeth, Xion moves dirty palm to thumb a finger at her single black band-aid across her cheek, having lost the second in the snow and failed to find it in the fight. Or... Whatever happened. "--then Arthur said that thing, that he 'just got here' and I started remembering?" It had to make sense, somehow. She just zoned out. After a fight? Didn't she try to reach for her opposite's heart? Why didn't she remember that? Did she have a medallion for it? Patting down her pockets and stowing her jellybeans back to warm up inside her coat, Xion shrugs with a grimace. "I don't even remember what fought us, just that I don't think I've seen you all day. Isn't that strange?" Reaching into her pocket -- if she had tried to pull on the doppleganger's heart to figure out the puzzle, it would be there, and it'd be a relief if there was just a blank medallion or a familiar shape in hand for her own self slightly displaced. Or, a doppleganger medallion! That might be the cause of her headache, if reassuring like feeling the sourceless heat from the funny stone in your pocket. "I'm okay with staying for now," Xion assures, a little weak - not that it was much of an admittance for her to stay or leave anywhere. Still, being offered to leave - however impossible a choice that would be - calms her a little. This was probably just her memory! "Could you just go over what's going on?" Xion asks, hopeful. "Maybe there's some kind of monster puzzle we have to do," She adds a gesture like swinging a (key)sword, arcing vertically off to the side. "-to not get trapped? And we're-" More swording gesture. "-already really affected by it. If you're not, Lilian, then maybe-" Her arming pauses. "You can figure it out. Or Angela, phew, that'd be great too." Xion completes her automatic action slashing by pantomiming sheathing her normally weightless to her blade on shoulder, when she doesn't actually feel it make contact, Xion looks with light startlement. Remembering with a squeezed out fist into untensed hand that she wasn't summoning her Keyblade, for some reason, she just returns the hand to her side.
Arthur Lowell	> Future Arthur: Check memories > Past Arthur: Check memories     "Tellin' you-- *I'm* missing the memories!" Future Arthur will shout. "I don't know what we killed! There's something going on timewise! He-- I-- fucking got the code right even! My *time loop code*! They *are* us!"     "I've got all my memories! No breaks!" Past Arthur shouted. "It's *gotta* be time shit! Future side bent back weird onto present, or they're tying past shit to present! Count all the teeth you want, we're twisted *timewise* not *identity-wise*!" > Past Arthur: Use incomplete time-loop knowledge > Future Arthur: Remember your old anti-dooming stuff     "Look!" Arthur(s) both shout in unison. "I'll *show* you!" Past Arthur shouted, "If one of us is a *duplicate*..." Future Arthur will call out, "...Then it'll let us have discontinuity. But it *won't* let us have it if there *is* a time loop!" Future Arthur will bring up his arm, roll up a sleeve, and check it for un-scraped, un-cut flesh, before showing it to Past Arthur. Past Arthur, rolling up the same sleeve with a dramatic motion, quickly tried to draw a short scrape against that part of his body.     If it's a time-loop, well, a gust of wind, or a sudden shiver, or a surprise intervention from someone else, will interrupt Arthur. If it's an *enemy time loop*, as Arina might be implying, Arthur's about to functionally attack or undo it via space-energized paradox. Which would annihilate one of the Arthurs. Illusion or otherwise. He tried/will try not to think about it. It's fucked up for one of them to be deprived of the guiltless cessation of existence, after all.
Petra Soroka	"Nika doesn't use magic."     Having her chin gripped pulled open is soothing to Petra in a way that doesn't need to be described. Her teary-smeared eyes ease back open, hyperventilation and spiked heart rate not slowing for a long minute after, darting around Lilian's face as long as it's close until reassured that she's actually in the real timeline.     Petra sighs and drops her chin, tapping on her own teeth with a fingernail to check that they're all in order. "Okay. Just Mat' Prizrakov. Thought so. I got a bit of the sense like last time, like, that headache, and the smell, but-- I guess if it was something easy enough to deal with after once, then, like, millions of people wouldn't have died to it." Petra wipes sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I know Nika's thing isn't magic, I just meant... uh, like, that sort of, similar thing. Like how Nika described the stuff her mom did."     "Man, that shit sucks. I wonder why *you* weren't there?" Petra rubs at her head, then looks at Lilian, gnawing on a knuckle thoughtfully. "It was everyone but you, so-- why not you? Is Mat' Prizrakov just, like, unable to model you like the rest of us? Is there just some sort of processing power limit that it can't meet for making a double of you?" HAZEL: Yeah there was two.     "Hahhhhh... so... uh...." Petra shivers, the implication of that settling in. "Like, identical except for Lilian not being there? Just, talking to you, like...." "--they actually experience existing? Before they meet humans to attack."     Petra is ashen grey under her scarf, tinged with green. She shifts closer to Cinder, pressed close shoulder-to-shoulder enough that she feels like her hair might catch fire. "Yeah. But, like, how? How is it possible for them to-- to experience anything *like* us, when they're just... you know, hollow illusions? I *remember* feeling like *me*. How would it even *know*?"     "It can't be because of... psychically reading us, and making a model of our personalities. But... it was *missing* you. It wasn't just doing what I did, it was...."     The repeated usage of 'it' about a series of memories she *does* have suddenly strikes Petra as an improper behavior that she needs to stop, given what happened with Betra last year. That leads her down a train of thought that makes her even unhappier, in a way that's far too realistically sympathetic for her to shrug off.     "... So, like... one of these Petras could just be... captured and kept away from people forever, right? And they'd just completely believe that they're me-- that's what it felt like-- and as long as they're isolated forever, that'd never stop believing that, or experiencing that. There's a kind of 'Petra' that can only exist if they never ever ever interact with a person, or their whole-- their whole consciousness, and identity, just vanishes, to turn them into a monster." There is this kind of Petra, and it's, sometimes, Petra. "I'm sorry. If you want to go home, I can make that happen."     Petra shakes her head, mute. She's still shivering a bit, despite being close to Cinder's sword. She starts to say something, and then has to take a second try to manage to make any noise.     "I won't go. I'm good. Just-- just let me know how you need me to help, and I'll be fine. Can we do anything, right now?"
Kukuru	Arina's reaction to getting called out has the Kukurus both starting to move towards her, then stopping once Lilian seems to have her handled in her own way. The temptation to console her in that state is still strong, of course, but they trust Lilian more than themselves in this sort of matter with someone she's known for far longer than they. Her stated intent to not run and just needing to scream does get them to approach her and Lilian, though, sympathetic smiles mirrored on each of their bloodied and non/less-bloodied faces. ""Can I?"" Beat, laughter, then "Can we? Just so she doesn't scare anyone or bring any unwanted attention over here."" If Lilian gives the okay, they'll hold their arms out like they're ready andw illing to crowd around Arina so she can shout all she wants into their coats. "Okay, so, you remember running into your duplicates. And it stops there? I've heard that there were reports of short-lasting memory impairment after terminating one of your own doppelgangers, but it can't be anything psychic or else Petra and Arina wouldn't be unable to remember it." ""Mhm. I remember. We weeere... Fighting? Oh, but-"" 'I' `she` ""-looks way more messed up. But how'd that happen...?"" They're having some visible trouble piecing that detail together, and then they remember to continue counting their teeth. Lilian's misguided compliment has them looking at her in surprise at first, then giggling bashfully at that ego boost. ""Thanks, Lilian.. Hehe. That means a looot. I'll-no."" The Kukurus clasp their hands together, then form a big heart with their arms aimed right at Lilian. ""We'll do our best!"" And then they actually resume counting from the beginning because they forgot where they left off. The bloodier original, predictably, finishes a few seconds before the cleaner duplicate, and then they both put their heads together to try and figure out what all the memory divergence stuff actually means. They turn in opposite directions, wince at accidentally stabbing each other in the face with their horns, then move their heads away to start pacing around and looking for the missing teeth. Bloody: "Oh, Xion's got a good point. What did we fight, anywaaay?" Clean: "Maybe ourselves? But..." Bloody: "But I'd never wanna fight myseeeelf... Double the me's means being able to get more stuff done." Clean: "Or the same amount of stuff with half the work." Bloody: "That's a good idea... Hehe. Still, if this is only supposed to happen after killing a copy..." Clean: "Then it had to happen, right? But that'd only happen if..." Bloody: "Iiif..." They look over at the double Angelas, then at the opposite Angelas, then start tearing up. Apparently, they've come to the same realization about what they'd have to do, and they both hate it. "I'm sorry. If you want to go home, I can make that happen." Once again, the Kukurus shake their heads and speak in unison. ""We're here to help you, Lilian. We're not going home until you're coming with us or us leaving really helps."" Another long pause later, and they snap their claws in unison, too. ""Waaaait. Would leaving help? If we aaaall go leave at once and get out of the range of this Mat Pretzel... Thingy, would something good happen?""
Angela	Cinder sees that Petra--well, Petra saying something sucks sometimes is just a thing that Petra does but she seems...troubled. She instinctively adjusts her sword's position so that it's not threatening Petra's hair, but she doesn't move the rest of her body except to give Petra a one armed hug in an attempt to reassure her. Or warm her up. But probably more the former. Her body is pretty warm though. "Like Nothing There..." Cinder murmurs. That gets Random to shudder. "...It's gotten a lot better at imitating but when it meets the original it still always..." Angela glances at Kukuru for a moment before looking back to Petra and giving her a nod when she confirms that she will be sticking around. She doesn't seem to be having the same crisis but just like during Walpurgisnacht-- --She is always killing herself anyway. This type of self-destruction is easier. That realization does linger but she just closes her eyes until the feeling goes away.
Lilian Rook	'Clearly being the real Angela and not an image gave us the advantage we needed to secure victory.'     Lilian makes a sound like 'snrk' into the back of her hand. She can't help it. "Thank you for the reassurance." she says.     'Oh, dear. Which direction were we traveling? It can only be 'up' or 'down,' as the sun rises, or as it sets. It cannot be both, no matter how convoluted the path.'     Lilian, without prompting, decides to wrap her arms around Tamamo and squeeze. Even if it just puts her face against a snow-dusted jacket. "A little more up. But down is still there. If this is too much, just say so. I promise."     'And where were you supposed to be, Ms. Arina?     "I . . ." Arina takes a deep-shuddering breath, then budges her mask back again. "Out here. Where no one else really can be. It had to be one of us, and out of all of us, it had to be me. Sorry."     'I don't even remember what fought us, just that I don't think I've seen you all day. Isn't that strange?'     "It's a little sad." says Lilian, then stops with an air of a small surprise. "I'm glad you're here. And it'll fade. Nothing happened to your mind. I think . . . they must have lived it all out, just a hair later, or maybe slightly earlier. I just don't know why not me."     In the depths of Xion's pocket, there is a weight of familiar shape. Her fingers close around something pale and grey and nearly-not translucent. Just under its surface is like a laser etching of a three-dimensional medallion in glass; and just below that, and below that, recursively on and within until it becomes too small to see. Whatever heart she'd touched, it wasn't hers, and it wasn't here.     'Could you just go over what's going on?'     "I don't know why there was any trace of the Mother of Ghosts here, of all places." Lilian says. "I had to ask Arina to help even open the path to the true Belukha." But the DS is quick to fill in the void. HAZEL: My mother always told me that the ghosts don't exist just in one place, at one time. HAZEL: That it was like a jellyfish. HAZEL: The trails reach up and down where it's been, backwards through the ocean, down and down into the year it died. HAZEL: Which I guess makes it like a trap. HAZEL: There wasn't a ghost here until you came, but there was going to be a ghost, so it was you. HAZEL: I guess nobody found it. HAZEL: Like a land mine. HAZEL: The army used to be here. HAZEL: From the other countries on the border too. HAZEL: Mongolia and China and Kazakhstan I think. HAZEL: But they went home when it went north and west. HAZEL: Chasing it was how we all ended up in the mountains. HAZEL: The goverment says we're dead and Arman says it's good that way. HAZEL: But I kind of want to see a city one day.
Lilian Rook	"Obviously I'm Lilian. If I were a fake I'd be activated to kill you already." Lilian pulls on her lip to show half her teeth for emphasis. That'd been the cue Rita had run foul of when she and Bond infiltrated the Russian G.D.F camp. They are very nice and Celtic Ancestry Sharp. Almost maybe more than before? How often does anyone pay attention to teeth.     She says it so lightly. As if she's talking about an automated drone. Something that believes it's a person-- that information itself brand new-- and blissfully reverts to murderous rage when its Antegent nature is shown. But only able to hold the memories that are identical to yours, because they were and are yours, there's no real way of knowing what they thought, felt, if they can really think or feel, when they met you.     Arthur doesn't feel like he's talking to an unwitting alien at all. All the way up until the moment he takes a present action which echoes into a mirrored sequence of slightly-diverged events, the other Arthur knows and communicates back, instead of fighting. All the way until another Arthur ceases to exist. Even by doing so, that may now already account for the group's light injuries. Only the other would remember how it went before Arthur had to touch it.     Of course there's no way that even a God Class could simply create the people here. Only split. Refract. Rotate. Reflect. Pinch the end of a possibility discarded already, split the thread of what has already been chosen, and weave them together for a finite span of intersection. By the time Arthur has confirmed a single thing, a duplicate Kukuru never existed.     'It was everyone but you, so-- why not you? Is Mat' Prizrakov just, like, unable to model you like the rest of us? Is there just some sort of processing power limit that it can't meet for making a double of you?'     "How should I know? Hopefully this means that there are a finite number of ghosts that will ever be created, and we're just waiting for them to run out." Lilian says, looking down the mountainside.     "No wonder four separate nations came together to kill it. I wonder what would have happened if it reached the peak? There's no way it would reach the Otherside. But I wonder that it would choose the point on Earth that is said to connect to the cosmos."     'It can't be because of... psychically reading us, and making a model of our personalities.'     "Obviously. Arina is no slouch either."     '... So, like... one of these Petras could just be... captured and kept away from people forever, right? And they'd just completely believe that they're me-- that's what it felt like-- and as long as they're isolated forever'     Staring off into the mountain-shadowed north, Lilian goes quiet in the act of repeating something she'd once told others. "They're still out there. The government denies it, because the thing is dead; they killed it and they guard its corpse, and the people can't believe they failed. But everyone who takes up a rifle knows the ghosts roam the wilds."     Arina buries her face in the only Kukuru's coat and just breathes for a while. She holds on to her as if she might vanish as well.     . . . . . .
Lilian Rook	Passing into the reaches of pure snow and ice, where the rocks are too cold for anything to grow, is already dangerous for your eyes and taxing in your lungs. The air is thin and the snow is bright enough to damage your vision; the former is unfixable on its own, and the latter is a trade with yet more bitter cold were you to come at night.     As you go on further beyond that line, the peak that had seemed relatively near seems only to crawl towards you little by little; just a little further than you expected when you look, and then a little further than each adjusted expectation every time you look again. The snow feels as if it must be reflecting enough sun to cook you, were you to shed your coat. The ice almost conspires to blind you, stabbing your eyes where they roam carelessly onto just the wrong angle of one crystal or another. The air becomes so thin that your mouth feels strange and your blood sloshes strangely in your ears.     You could swear that the sky has grown measurably darker. If you look up, you can faintly see stars glittering in a sea of bold primary blue. Just beyond the far side of the peak, the horizon glitters at the edges of the mountain's eclipse, always just behind.     Remains of habitation by the G.D.F have fallen far behind. There aren't even remains of habitation before it, either. Lying on the borders of multiple nations, at the center of three faiths, no singular faction has ever dwelt here. Old mobile bases are replaced with even older shrines, cairns, petroglyphs, and the residue of magics wrought without war in mind, left in in stains and bones and standing stones.     Twenty minutes distance before the peak, you come to an icy plateau, carved into the mountain by a collision along the fault line by which its zenith was once pushed from the continental plate. Fallen away in its entirety, the ground has been worn flat as the stone backing on purpose, providing just enough space for . . .     The foundations of a shrine. Whichever faith, whatever purpose, lost to time. The wood has frozen to the core, and can neither wear nor rot. The insignia have long since blown away on some savage storm-wind of antiquity, leaving only their bare posts, coated in too-thick rhime to break. The barren space receives the glimmering light just behind the peak, sliced down its middle, halfway in the shadow of the primordial rock. The preserved remains of some mat or rug or another lies in just the right place to be warmed in the day, before the half-finished rows of what would once have been meant to hold icons of faith.     Lilian unwraps the cloth around the box, and unties a tightly braided rope that keeps it well shut. Arthur, Xion, and Tamamo are assailed by a briefly whelming sense of staring into bright light along the axes of their special senses. All feel strangely warmed by the innocuous box of simple varnished wood. Breathing into her hands and licking her lips, Lilian takes slightly too long to find the right thing to say.
Lilian Rook	"You didn't need me to come all the way up here did you." "No." "Why didn't you tell me to turn back earlier? You did to Satsuki." "Because I had no excuse to leave you all on your own." "And now?" "I won't be long. As a last request, could you keep everyone company? I think we all need to . . ." "Is that an order?" "No." "Then I don't mind. I think I know why you wanted to be this near to the Axis Mundi." "Thanks. I owe you." "Mhm. Later." "Later."     Lilian breaks off towards the shrine that never was, taking a pace too hesitant for what it took to come here. As if it might prove itself to burn at a touch, and bids her ready to flinch back. Climbing the unfinished steps, she looks back, and too apologetically, for something she told you not to be here for, she finds the words "I'll just be here for a little while. To say a few words, and wrap something up. Then Arthur and Xion can take us right back, and we'll all go home."     "We're done. I promise that every single one of you will be there to see it pay off."
Arthur Lowell	> Duplicate Arthur: > Arthur: Deal with the truth     "..." The alternate/false/duplicate/refracted Arthur's eyes widen, as diverging wounds force a temporal disconnect. "Wait." He whispers. "It's not--"     Gone.     "Fuck." Arthur spits under his breath, clearing his head and getting a little more of that memory back. "Fuck. It did *this* again. Why is it always *this*, every fucking time." He steps back, looking at the arm where the wound-timeline diverged. If you're getting any memories of Arthur back now, you might remember a persistent mirror of every other time Arthur's been subjected to temporal-divergence systems like this. Any encounters further down the mountain, old occurrances of lotus-eater possibilities.     If they've been running into duplicates like this, or are likely to run into any more, this will just keep repeating, this tactical mutual annihilation. Arthur Lowell, for reasons unclear to anyone, is unable to resist the path of, not death, but cessation. A retreat and undoing from existence. There's always an unlucky one, though, and he's always back to trudging up the mountain.     "That *lucky motherfucker*." He mutters, looking at empty footprints where he once was.     But a strange box of old religious meaning is nice. After truging further up, exhausted, he almost winces from the light and heat. But he adjusts to it. "Yeah. I'm here to get dudes home. Got locked-onto someplace decently warm enough. Say anything you need, I wanna hear it. Gotta be some decent answers here for something."
Tamamo	There isn't/wasn't another Tamamo, which means there was no point at which the two squinted at each other, recalling another time, now years ago, when there had definitely, positively, verifiably been two of her standing in the same room. That memory brings them immediately on edge for a repeat of inevitable conflict. In the first place, there is only one Lilian, and Tamamo-no-mae will not surrender her to anyone, herself included.     Lilian, without prompting, decides to wrap her arms around Tamamo and squeeze.     Tamamo turns, heel height perfectly matched, even with her boots, for her to touch forehead to forehead with Lilian. "I have already a few years more than a lifetime's worth of memories. What is a few more hours more? It is only... like something remembered through deep drink."
Angela	''Lilian makes a sound like 'snrk'.'' Angela smiles. Lilian making a sound like 'snrk' is even more enriching than being helpful. "Of course." She says to her thanks. She's happy. Her mood was not great at all when this adventure started but now she has completely forgotten every little thing that was annoying her. It's just not relevant anymore. Why not Lilian? "Perhaps because you are a Bloom?" Angela suggests. "Or perhaps your own temporal control--" It's true, if this Lilian was a doppleganger she'd probably have lost two Agents by now. She's frankly surprised they survived their own dopplegangers. Even Random, who doesn't seem nearly as connected to the multiverse in the same way as CInder is which, to Angela, means they're a little less real in her mind. Random, surprisingly, doesn't complain outside of that sigh. They had their little admittance and are now back to being professional. Cinder is too preoccupied with Petra to think too much about it--but if she really thinks about it, it's like... passing on a flame, right? The two flames become one flame. That's how she metabolizes it, raising her hand to protect her eyes once more. She's shuddering herself, purely from cold, but the single match keeps her from collapsing. Some part of her wonders how Yuri would handle it. She wants to forgive her so much. But she can't even talk to her. She worries that one day it'll be too late. Angela is in a good mood, so Arina burying her face in the only Kukuru's coat, despite everything, is something she takes as ... kind of sweet. But she's fundamnetally unable to sympathize too much with reflections. They've been her enemy ever since she was born. But they reach the plateau. Angela unwraps a cloth around a box. This feels, strangely, like a ritual. Who is she talking to, she wonders. The people who diedh ere? Ghosts of people that never were? A friend? A loved one? She doesn't know and she doesn't ask. She just says, "Understood. Cinder, Random. You can relax." Random's body posture eases off a billion fold.
Kukuru	"I think . . . they must have lived it all out, just a hair later, or maybe slightly earlier." Both Kukurus think they're the real one. Why wouldn't they? They act as they always do, trying to be supportive of their friends and family even without having a full grasp of everything going on, and knowing full well they might never understand. They know one of them is the original and the other isn't, and there's a knot of dread at not knowing for certain which is which. Even without understanding what a time loop or paradoxes are, they innately feel an understanding of why the Arthurs are doing what they're doing, but not nearly enough to know what to actually do with that feeling. After hearing about the possibility of even more other Kukurus, all with the same amount of similar, yet different life experiences that could just disappear in an instant... It's terrifying to think about, not even being certain if she's the real one or not until the one here disappears. The most they can do is do what they always do: Be supportive, be pillars for the ones that are here, be around for the ones they care about. They wave at the one Arthur to beckon him over, smiling gently to try and let him know that it'll be okay even without knowing what else or anything to say to tell him more than that. Looking over at Angela, the Kukurus wave lightly and offer more sympathetic smiles at wondering if... No, how many times she must have had a similar feeling to this already. Looking down at Arina, the Kukuru  wraps  he r arms around the nearly-graduate, squeezing her gently and holding her there as long as she needs. Arina can also let go, too, and she might very well be the first one to do so. Even though Kukuru has that gentle smile of hers on as usual, Arina can feel her shaking.
Xion	Xion remembers not wanting to fight, because there would be something wrong with hitting 'herself' with her own heart. Reaching out, she pulled with an outstretched hand. Reaching out, the other version of her did the same, except the other version of her had remembered to wear black gloves, and so, when she looked down... ... holding her breath... Xion closed her ungloved hand, and then opens it before her lowered eyes, understated, rolling through a gesture of her fingers and turning over wrist to see back of palm. In her other hand, drawn from pocket, Xion can't know what it is. She wants to know - connected with it, didn't she? - but doesn't remember the particular parts that matter. It's in her hand, and not. Greyfrosted with opacity, but, again, glass, Xion holds out the object and backs it with the loud-white like a backing lamp, and seeing through it. It is comforting, and it is horrifying, that it isn't her own heart that she touched. Wasn't a fit for her heart-but-not, something else. "Glass again. Or - is it panes of nothing?" There isn't a satisfying answer to be had, and eventually she has to pull her coat hood up and filter the winter washout with her attention, fingers, squinted eyes. "It's okay, Arina. I'm sorry, too, that it had to be you, so maybe we can make it better. Do you want some jellybeans?" Xion offers, bringing out a bag of Jelly Bellies with all of the cherries, cinnamons, buttered popcorns, and juicy pears removed. Which flavors do those leave? There's always licorice. Fishing out the bag and offering it out to the poor mountain seer, Xion nevertheless tries to smile into the situation. Four nations, and them. "You're not seeing problems about today, were you? London, and... And everything else. Do you need help getting to where it all began? Maybe a trip back might be worth it, if you need to go." At the peak, at the temple, Xion lowers her hand rather than raising it. At the peak, she is warmed, and feels a little strange. Lilian echoes her earlier thought - to spend a little time with the lonely seer. "We could get some burritos, too, if you get trapped in a pastor and guacamole burrito experience at least it's a good one." A little lamely, Xion tries to survey the temple, tries to make a little sense of anything, and still is bothered by something. Lilian looks back, and Xion waves. "Take the time you need, Lilian. We'll be here." Xion nods, and remembers to put the strange medallion back away, leaving the Nobody with one hand outside of her coat while she returns to chilly idle. Looking down at her hand and bothered about something, Xion blinks her eyes and then rubs bare fingertips into the soft parts around her eyes. Then she remembers. If all her memories had her gloveless, and it was the 'other her' with black-covered hands in the snow... Closing her hand into a final fist, Xion stuffs her right hand to her coat pocket, and brings them close once more for warmth. "It's probably nothing. She would know."