Scene #9108: BTF - The Knowing I

Owner	Pose
Petra Soroka	The construction of the Lobotomy Corporation facility has always been dizzyingly strange. In Asiyah, at the top, the departments are largely normal if dystopian, and as you go lower, they get more and more unsettling. Welfare and Central Command in Briah have towering main rooms a dozen times larger than any plausible function could warrant, with walls stripped away into an endless cavern for one and sweeping angelic engravings and ornate curtains in the other. Further down, and Records and Extraction in Atziluth stretch the definition of 'rooms' at all, with Records feeling as if you're standing outside in the disintegrating realm of clocks and towers that goes on further than any Abnormality cells need, and Extraction being filled with gold and onyx pillars that stretch upwards until they disappear into the shadows. And then here, at the very very bottom, is Architecture. Monochrome white with angular spirals of black patterning the walls, floors, and ceiling without any distinction, cold and crisp like marble lit by florescent bulbs without either of those discernably present. Every sound echoes across the entire room with practically no degredation, reducing the conversation of the Sephirah and Elites down to babbling echoing whispers punctuated by their footsteps. The agents in Architecture give the group a wide berth, silently going around to do their own tasks with the Abnormalities, none of which are familiar-- either the agents, or the Abnormalities. The pillar in the middle is the only thing that breaks up the vast empty room, office door on it directly across from the opening of the elevator. Apparently, that's where X moved himself once this department became available, down from his office nearby the warpgate in Control. He doesn't bother to open the door for you, but it's unlocked, and the office inside seems as normal as can be. X is sitting in the leather chair at the desk, fingers steepled and anxiously waggling the Psychoportal between his thumbs. Looking at him briefly makes the office 'dissolve' in your periphery, as if the furniture is melting and oozing sickly green enkephalin. The whiteboard has unnerving scribbled text all over it that vanishes whenever it's looked at directly, forcefully-pressed ink running red like blood; while the floors warp and books tumble and unreadable papers are plastered on every surface and-- but it's all fine when you look at it! It's a normal office! X shakily smiles and weakly pushes himself up from the desk to greet you. For most of you, it's the first time seeing the face of 'Ayin', though this man in front of you isn't really him. A mop of unkempt black hair partly hangs over his lusterless yellow eyes, labcoat wrinkled and the black shirt underneath it faded. Not knowing quite what to do or say, he does a halfhearted wave and then a goofy, lame little thumbs-up. "Y-yup. Well, this is it, folks. Uh, Malkuth, Yesod, Hod, Netzach... Chesed Gebura, Tiphereth... Binah, Hokma. Flamel. Everyone." 'Everyone'. Petra and Angela are staying outside the office, in Architecture, because Petra is a ball of psychic razors and Angela doesn't need to see him. "Guess it's time to... get this show on the road." He holds the Psychoportal door up near his forehead, then hesitates, eyes darting around between the Sephirah and all the Elites. "Well, uh, whatever Ayin's like in there... could you try to be easy on the guy? Despite everything, he's probably had it pretty hard, from what I remember...."
Petra Soroka	And with that resounding note of determination and resolve, X slaps the door on his forehead, and the opening portal reaches out, out, expanding further and further than it should. The office walls disintegrate into green slime, Architecture ceiling outside melting away, every chamber and every hallway of all the departments reaching up through the entire facility, liquifying into neon-green enkephalin running over black that spills down into Ayin, dragging everyone and everything inside. Petra grabs Angela and holds her back, stinging aura enveloping both of them, vanishing into the void away from everyone else. On the other side is a massive, opulent concert hall. Dark glossy wood embossed with gold forms every surface illuminated by rich warm lighting. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of seats rise up away from the stage, for all the shadowy-indistinct audience to listen in awe. Some of the shadows in the crowd are vaguely familiar from the City, if silhouetted, with Nonon's distinct bulk there, or the shadow of a G-Corp augmented soldier-- maybe Arachne?-- or hundreds of others, arranged to bear witness to the performance on stage. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0Fj3UD8gBI& The Elites are brought in just below the stage in the front row, seated and looking up at the performers. The performers, dressed in their evening's finest and seated in an orchestral arc, are the Sephirot in their human forms, mid-song with violins, cellos, and flutes that fill the hall with music. They all face towards their conductor: a clockwork Carmen, visible gears and clicking pistons while she swings her baton around, dressed in a 'conductor's labcoat' with coattails. Every so often the Carmen shudders like a rickety engine, skipping a beat. The real centerpiece-- not the one leading it all, but the grandest and most eye-catching-- is a colossal organ that takes up the entire back wall. Towering ivory pipes and gleaming gold make it a work of art beyond the concert hall itself, and each time its performer lays on the keys, the chorus of sound shakes the entire chamber, magnificent, overpowering, and perfect. Each note, as directed by the conductor, carries the entire orchestra forwards, manifesting a simple flick of the baton as a deafening swell of music. The person sitting at the organ has glossy black hair, a labcoat with coattails draped over the back of the bench, and the cuffs of an immaculate black shirt just barely visible past the labcoat. After sustaining a chord so loud it rattles your teeth and steals the breath from your lungs, the ringing echo smothers all other sound in the room, and he languidly turns around on his bench to look over the Sephirot and Elites. With a sweep of his hand over his head, he pushes his bangs away to reveal his golden eyes, and smiles down with expectant arrogance. "Welcome." Ayin says. "I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced." Ayin stands up and turns away from his organ, arms spread wide to either side. When he speaks, for an instant, the entire concert hall shatters like a gilded facade, enkephalin, blood, and nothing leaking through the cracks, and his voice distorts and echoes thrice-over itself. <True CEO of Lobotomy Corporation> "I am the <Warden and First-jailed of Hell>." <New God of This Putrefying World>
Angela	It's time. Angela is not the sort of person who is allowed to jump into Ayin's head. The standing order remains that she not go to see him--she is only allowed to interact with the X persona--and she is far too close to her own goals to drop by and risk that now. But she can escort the Sephirah to his office, eyes closed as she uses camera feeds to guide the movement of her feet. She won't be able to do this for much longer, she thinks, she will have to walk forward with her eyes open or she will trip and fall or bump into others. Eyes open! She won't need to close them because the world around her won't be too detestable to look at. ~o You'll be an incredible human o/~ Angela hums a few notes which immediately draws some attention from her fellow Sephirah. "Eh? Angela what are you doing?" Netzach asks like they are surprised Angela can even do such a thing. "I don't think I've ever heard you hum like that." Hod smiles awkwardly. "Mm. I suppose it is natural even for Miss Angela to be happy that the work is nearing completion." Yesod concludes. "Mmm..." Malkuth frowns suspiciously. "Yesod is correct." Angela says, humming and cheer ceasing simultaneously. "Even an AI such as myself is going to feel some satisfaction in the completion of a long project." "Suppose that's true. Finishing anything is an achievement." Chesed says. "After this we'll all get to take it easy." "We shouldn't get careless. Lowering our guard down at the last moment is bound to screw us." Gebura chides. "All the more reason to get this over with." Tiphereth says. "What are we even supposed to do?" Angela considers Tiphereth's question. "Get the last ten percent we need for the project to complete. I can hardly dictate what needs to happen. I have barely met Ayin, as you know, but you have known him for most of your life. I trust you to figure it out, Tiphereth. Out of all the Sephirah here, I consider you the most reliable." As Tiphereth mumbles an awkward thank you, Binah laughs uproariously. "More than Gebura, even!" Binah can't help herself. "Where does she rank?" "More than you," Hokma says, not even bothering to consider where he places. "Well obviously I shouldn't be trusted in the first place. That's just a mark of good judgement!" Binah laughs again. "And what of you, finally turned on your mentor?" "...I have decided to stop living in the past. Whatever happen, I will no longer interfere." Hokma pushes off the irritation to look to Angela. "Are you certain you do not want to make use of this opportunity?" Angela shakes her head. "I will not risk the project for short term satisfaction I am not likely to get." Unstated is 'I have bigger desires now, as you know'.
Angela	Rita will no doubt smell that one of the cells down here is absolutely drenched in blood, but the path is leading far away from that particular abnormality. Just another horror in the facility. Another Abnormality passed by, in what was once the strange Plague Doctor's cell, has been replaced by another entity--or perhaps an evolution of the old--a white fetal creature with a golden halo, eyes closed as numerous white feathered wings hold it aloft. A golden heart patterned band is wrapped around its 'neck'. "Have you ever been here before...?" Yesod murmurs. "Outside of that one incident with Stanley, and Binah's meltdown, I doubt anybody's come down here." Hokma answers. "No." Angela says. "Flamel paid a visit earlier and he will be instrumental here. Good luck with your ascension. I will wait for your return." The Sephirah step into the office without her, all in boxbot bodies, and... ''Could you try to be easy on the guy?'' "No promises." Hokma teases before stumbling. "I, ah..." "This is the dream you all fought for. I want to see what you manage so stay strong for a little longer, won't you?" Binah says. Somehow Binah gets the Sephirah to bob their little bodies in assent and then... FWOOM! Even Angela is surprised by the force of the pull dragging everybody into Ayin's mindscape. Instinctively--automatically she steps forward, but Petra pulls her back before she gets pulled in as well--vanishing from sight alongside Petra as the portal fails to pull the two of them in. The Concert Hall The boxbot forms of the Sephirah are gone. They have been replaced by their human form--no, not exactly. Their forms are all slightly different. Michelle (Hod) is younger--clearly in her early teens--and Daniel's (Chesed) hair and dress are considerably better taken care of. Kali (Gebura) has fewer scars and still seems to have both eyes, Benjamin (Hokma) is his younger self once more not long after he had abandoned that form during his Meltdown. Lisa's (Tiphereth) eyes are no long bright green but are a (familiar?) purple. Elijah's (Malkuth) hair is longer. Gabriel (Yesod) looks mostly the same but is no longer as heavily covered up. Netzach (Giovanni) has shorter hair and looks more sickly than before. Nevertheless, they are all dressed nicely. Lisa is playing a violin and wearing a fancy black dress with lacey frill around her collar and arms, a black flower accessory near her neck. Daniel is playing the cello and has added a black ascot over his teal suit. Kali is wearing a long black dress and playing a flute. Gabriel and Giovanni are both playing second fiddle, along with Michelle--also in a nice black dress with heels, playing third violin. Elijah's dress has a golden poofy frilled side-skirt and she's also playing a cello. Binah is also in a black dress with an intricate golden design, having been provided the double bass to play. And while Ayin is at an organ, Benjamin in a white and grey suit has been seated at a piano. They play along, seemingly drawn into the mindscape's rules for the moment, playing their instruments alongside the clockwork Carmen's guidance.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel's presence here is rare. And it's focused. When the door opens, it's without Flamel's astral assistance. He's quick to point it out: "No safeties on this one. The astral-material barrier is almost nothing, right now. Too much enkephalin, and too much light." He lowers his sunglasses to watch, to step forward... "Make sure Petra doesn't get in here. There's... an important reason." Onto the stage. "Hello, Ayin[1][2][3]. They might not have met you -- but you could say that in a way, your reputations really precede you!" Flamel's got his acoustic guitar here, over one shoulder -- what else could a camp counselor have? But he's not playing. It's just not right for something like this, it's something separate and distant and made for smaller things that exchange influence with this without having presence. "Still. I think you know where this has to go. I have to get you over the finish line now, that was the terms we set out[4][5]." He speaks with more familiarity than anyone here ought to have. Has he met Ayin before? He had that Psychoportal ready... He looks to the orchestral concert's songbook. That'll be the guide. Ayin had this all planned out, even himself. "Check your music," He tells everyone. "And get ready to... push. You all know how realizations are more than I do, in plenty of ways! We need things to move on as much as we can, break out of the cycles and stop the attachments..." That'll mean finding the source of why Ayin went into this in the first place. Benjamin's here too, isn't he? And there's Carmen, the conductor... He gestures. "She's keeping the plan going. Make sure everything's okay with Carmen. She's... the central mental image of this whole mindscape."
Kukuru	Although Kukuru was somehow able to get all those clerks and injured Agents out alive from the Smoke War put together within Hokma's Meltdown, she's still reeling from everything she had seen during the event. She had only seen one small part of it, but even that was enough to let her see just how terrible things were during that war. More importantly, she saw how willing some of those people were, clerks included, to just abandon the children that had come seeking shelter and aid. She was willing to put so much of herself into healing them and keeping them all alive, yet they... Needless to say, she looks kind of rough today. Her hair's messier than it usually is even though it's tied up in loose braid as though she hadn't even half-assed brushing it since waking up, she's wearing a long sweater with bunched-up spots underneath coming from some t-shirt that she's still wearing under it and had slept in the night before, and even her usual fake glasses are nowhere to be seen. Seeing Angela and Petra outside the office, thankfully, has her face brightening up considerably. "Do you want me to turn the microphone on so you can hear?" She offers, taking off her ear piece and looking ready to flick something on or off at just a gesture. Angela's humming has Kukuru humming along, too, even if the latter's imitation is a little off-key. Inside X's office, meanwhile, Kukuru's blinks slowly as she takes in what she can see in her periphery while looking straight at him. "That's right... Hmm. After all this..." She murmurs tiredly,, slowly turning her head just to see how strange everything inside looks while she's moving. "We'll finally be done. I can't promise we'll all-" She tries not to chuckle a little at Hokma's teasing. "-be too nice to him, buuut we'll..." She can't exactly promise to try, can she? Not really. "We'll make sure eeeverything goes perfect." She finally replies. The wall sliming catches Kukuru's eye, but she just keeps standing there with the slightly vacant and mostly-tired look on her face, watching the walls and hallway and facility disappearing one by one. "Oh.. I'm underdressed for this, aren't I?" Kukuru murmurs after a quiet yawn into her claw, looking up at the performers and blinking owlishly when she actually recognizes those human forms. "I didn't even know they could play this well.. Aw, that's so lovely to hear, too. I wonder if maybe they could do a concert sometime, after all this is over." The man turns, speaks, and the hall explodes in so many different substances that Kukuru actually gets up, fully on guard when Ayin introduces himself. "He-llo, Ayin... You've been waiting for us for a long time, haven't you? You... You did good, waiting this patiently for so long. How... Hmm. What do you want to do here, then?" She asks while swaying on her heels lightly, ready to leap one way or another before hearing Flamel bringing up the music. "Oh. Juuust a second, dear. We wanna make sure your show with everyone goes well, you know?" She asserts, then shuffles over to take a look over his shoulder at the songbook to see if she can parse anything beyond just musical notes. "Mhm... I thiiink I get it. Everyone needs to be ready to move on, relax, be free from all this work finally, start new lives, maybe even new families..." Kukuru looks back up at Ayin after that, starting to smile softly again in that usual dopey way of hers. "Let's see... Okaaay. What do you want to do after all this?"
UFO Gang	SHOU TORAMARU GETS IT TOGETHER After regaining the possession of the Jeweled Pagoda, Shou had, no doubt, apologized to Angela in person. Nazrin did also. There was prostrations. Shou insisted. Nazrin got whacked by the staff at least once. But things aren't over. Shou has made a vow. https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/739cxpbzbn7.jpg Shou Toramaru is not that exalted as a person. In essence, she is a monk - a manifestation of a sacred being, a god to some and a bodhisattva to others. For a thousand years she served as such in the quiet recesses of a certain temple grounds, and while she was seen by many people, few knew who she really was. But she has been given that mantle. And vows are things she takes with deadly gravity. The other members of the group are familiar with the upper reaches of the corporate structure. They stand up there, in case there are unknown contingencies. (Minamitsu was also pretty beat up.) Nazrin is staying with them. But Shou is here, at the final step. As the group descends, Shou reviews a list written on a sheet of paper in close and swoopy calligraphy. It is a simple thing: NOTES TO REMEMBER - Don't preach. Listen and respond. If there is a need for a sermon, you will know - Read the room. Then read it again. - DON'T TOUCH THAT GREEN SHIT - SORRY I WROTE DOWN A VULGAR WORD BUT I AM UNDERLINING IT DON'T TOUCH IT - I guess if you have to you can but try to use the stick - I had a traumatic experience. Anyway, - entire line scribbled out - I don't have any more advice. Please come back. - Signed, your humble and ___REMORSEFUL___ servant, - NAZRIN By the time they reach the office door, Shou has folded the note up and slid it into her robe in order to have it stored. Perhaps it is precious. In they go. The corners of Shou's vision seems to melt - her head turns, but perhaps she intuits the distortion, after looking back and forth. She gives X her best peaceful smile. "It's an honor to help you," she murmurs. She nods once, gravely, at the request - go easy on Ayin. Then X slaps the door on his head. And things get funky. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2E40WCgwLmk Illusion dissolves into the neon-green of enkaphelin, spilling down like the sluice drains after a rainstorm, drenching, drowning, surrounding. Petra and Angela reserve themselves. When everything melts, what is precipitated, other than they-in-themselves of course, is a concert hall. Shou looks around, then back over her shoulders. Shapes... persons... many of them. A grand arena stadium, not a simple auditorium or polite and petite little concert hall. Back forwards, towards the performance. Shou's staff leans over her; the Jeweled Pagoda sits on her lap. "Both warden and prisoner... it's a heavy burden," Shou says to Ayin. (Don't preach, she tells herself.) Even so, she smiles again, her face peaceful. "Indeed; it's very elegant music," she concurs quietly with Kukuru. Her eyebrows lift slightly at the question Kukuru posits to Ayin, too.
Rita Ma	Rita's in her usual Trideag clothes, which have become a comforting insulation against the City: dress shirt, black skirt, little hair-ribbon, and filtered respirator. It's around her neck until she passes by that bloody cell. Then her eyes snap to its closed door, pupils shrink, and she pulls the mask up over her mouth and nose. It can't completely stop her from drooling, but now's not the time to be distracted. ---- "It seemed like you were managing your own Qlipoth Meltdown Level. Managing yourself to avoid a Breach?" Angela had said that what felt like a lifetime ago. "You get it, Ms. Angela. As much as anyone but Ms. Rook. Maybe more," Rita had answered. ---- "I will not risk the project for short term satisfaction I am not likely to get." In the present, Rita eyes Angela with a little more understanding of how she'd understood. She hasn't often seen Gebura in boxmode, but still awkwardly gravitates to the reddish rectangle's side for comfort in the odd office. Pat-pat. Being suddenly plunged into a psychic vision isn't too too new for Rita, but she still looks around in awe after landing in her little seat, then covers her ears and scrunches her eyes against the organ blare. When she opens them again... "Oh! Ms. Gebura! You're alright again!" It's properly her! Rita scampers up onto the stage, then slows when Gebura doesn't acknowledge her. Is this just a 'fixture' of the place? She pivots around to Carmen for an explanation, giving a distracted nod to Flamel and Ayin, and then approaches and crouches down in front of her like she's examining delicate machinery. It's been a long time since Rita had to repair anything. Even if this 'Carmen' is an effigy of an effigy of a dead woman, probably better to approach her as a person than a machine. With bedside manner, pulling down her mask again: "Hi. Um, I don't think you know me, but you used to be Ms. Angela, right? Or Ms. Angela used to be you; sorry. Is something wrong? It doesn't look like you're doing very well." Ough. Wait, no, blood everywhere. Rita's face scrunches again, for a wholly different reason, and she coughs out a half-breath before hurriedly tugging the respirator back up.
Hibiki Tachibana	Well, uh, whatever Ayin's like in there... could you try to be easy on the guy? Despite everything, he's probably had it pretty hard, from what I remember... Hibiki glances away, tired expression inscrutiable as her gaze settles on one of the far walls of architecture. That's always the difficult part, isn't it. Everybody has reasons for doing the things they do. They might be shaky reasons. They might be reasons born of hurt. They might be bad reasons, to everybody else. But everybody fights for something that matters to them, and sometimes, for somebody important to them. She's always been soft on Manager X, a man burdened with the responsibility of his 'predecessor' without ever asking for it, who was far from perfect and needed several pushes in the right directions - but ultimately still put in the effort to connect with the Sephirah. But how many stones would she, of all people, have to cast at Ayin himself, really? In the right circumstances, she might also... ... ... ... ...the entire concert hall shatters like a gilded facade, enkephalin, blood, and nothing leaking through the cracks. The brief true appearance - no, more like the reminder of what was already long known about it - of the grand stageplay that is Lobotomy Corporation's journey to its goal briefly renders her sick to her stomach, sitting in the front row as they are in the otherwise opulent mindscape. Partially with all of it. And partially with herself. "...The song is beautiful..." murmurs the girl who went to a literal music academy. "...But..." After swallowing down that feeling, she pushes to a stand so she can take a tentative step up onto the stage. The stage that, for better or worse, all of the outsiders like her have also become a part of. Maybe not front players like all of the Sephirah here, moving to Carmen's instruction, but in the background ensuring everything goes according to the well-crafted plan regardless. ...moving to Carmen's instruction... Hibiki's stare shifts. From the clockwork woman guiding it all even as she occasionally rattles, to the human forms of the various Sephirah keeping the symphony going... and finally, to Ayin himself. As piercing as those eyes are, as arrogant as his expression might be. "...CEO... warden and jailed... new god..." She slowly pieces together the layered voices, eyes falling away towards the stage's floor for only a moment. It's hard to tell what she's thinking, or what words she's trying to find. But she makes the simplest inference she can, looking back up at that gargantuan and dramatic organ taking up so much space, and yet... "...But you're still playing along for her, just as much as anybody else here. Aren't you, Ayin?"
Timespace Riders	"Architecture..." Sougo is struck by the newest department. Not only by the myriad new faces, but-- "What would this kind of company... well, any company, need with a whole 'department' for that? And why wouldn't it be the very first one?" He ponders it along the way until stepping into X's office. He and Woz both take to the melting scenery with about the same level of initial surprise and settling discomfort. Ultimately, it's not the scenery that they're here to see, so they both end up swallowing it down to focus on X. Guess it's time to... get this show on the road. "Indeed," says Woz flatly. Well, uh, whatever Ayin's like in there... could you try to be easy on the guy? Despite everything, he's probably had it pretty hard, from what I remember.... "I'm going to be the greatest, kindest Demon King," says Sougo. "So I promise that I'll be kind to him, in the way that it's needed for a Meltdown." --- Sougo shifts not-quite-anxiously in his seat, his vision sweeping between the familiar figures in the audience, the clockwork Carmen conducting, and the Sephirah players, before his eyes settle on the grand organ at the back wall. Woz, sat beside him, folds his hands in his lap and takes in the performance with a furrowed brow and a concentrated frown. Both of them flinch away from the overpowering final swell of the music, each standing and shielding himself from the anticipation of harm by the jagged edges of the briefly shattered concert hall. "Hi, Ayin," says Sougo, lowering his hands. "I'm Sougo. This is my retainer, Woz. We're here to help complete the project." He pauses. Sougo isn't ignorant to what Ayin has done; he's known since a conversation with Angela a long time ago that he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. But... if Rita can find it in herself to talk to Carmen without having met her, then he should suck it up and talk to Ayin, even feeling the way he does about him. "It's very important to us that these people, the people who answer to them, and especially Angela, don't have to do any of this again." "So what can we do to help with that?"
Sarracenia	The last mindscape Sarracenia visited was the exact, polar opposite of fun. It was /not/ fun. She felt like she nearly lost her mind, that her entire identity was close to slipping away, and left it unsure if she had actually helped in any way, shape, or form because she just did not really understand what had happened. And also she was shot in cold blood only a short time before entering it. This time, they are supposed to enter the mind of the person in control of the facility? At least, that's what she thinks is happening? She never did bother to learn the names and jobs of most of the people here, even the really important ones. But, because it seems inevitable in this place, Sarra is in her battle dress with her hammer already in hand. The princess is not excited to be here, but she said she would help. Not to mention the sooner the Seed of Light is finished the sooner this terrible Lob Corp is destroyed and Angela is freed, eliminating Sarra's need to come to this place ever again and hopefully giving Angela better things to do than to antagonize Sarra. 'Eh? Angela what are you doing?' Sarra too is surprised at Angela humming and raises an eyebrow with a questioning look. Every now and then Angela shows hints of being a real person and not just the Lilian-focused AI that Sarra thinks she is. 'Even an AI such as myself is going to feel some satisfaction in the completion of a long project.' "I suppose so..." Sarra says with some mild surprise to her tone. "And what is the first thing you are going to do once you are free?" Sarra asks, then after a quick moment adds, "And do not say kill me." 'Well, uh, whatever Ayin's like in there... could you try to be easy on the guy? Despite everything, he's probably had it pretty hard, from what I remember....' Sarra hmms. "I suppose that depends on him." she says before X slaps that door onto his forehead. Things around them get weird fast, and Sarra does her best not to scream as visions of Memory Poison space fill her mind. A few whimpers escape, but other than that she makes it through. And into a fabulous concert hall! Such a place is high on the list of places that Sarra likes, and so her worry is dispelled for the moment as they land in the front row. "Oooh. A concert? Perhaps this will not be so bad after all~" she says with a cheerful smile. The conductor draws some attention. Is that Angela? Or some representation of her? No, that's...Carmen is it? Sarra isn't sure what that means, but her attention is quickly taken by the colossal organ. It is quite lovely, and the princess has a weakness for both powerful things and shiny things. The sustained cord causes her to cover her ears for a few moments until Ayin starts to speak. 'I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced.' Rattled after the shattering of the area, Sarra has to take a few moments to look around at the chaos and collect herself before she can respond. "I do not believe we have." Sarra says, and stands from her seat (if it is even still there) to offer a proper curtsey. "I am Princess Sarracenia Sundew, Crown Princess of the Sundew Kingdom." Sarra notices the Sephirah are human now and looks them over in curiosity before returning her attention to Ayin. "Warden and First-jailed of Hell? That is quite a title. I believe I heard a story about an angel who fit that description. Are you much like him?" she says. Sougo asks a much more pertinent question, and Sarra nods in agreement with him with a bit of an embarrassed blush. "Er...perhaps you should answer that question first." Now that she thinks about it even a bit, her question seems like one of those questions that Lilian might ask why it was even asked.
Lilian Rook	It feels bizarre to see the man himself-- not just hearing him through the intercom or talking to him on the radio-- after all of that exchange with Benjamin. Lilian meant what she said and said what she meant, but it's hardly difficult to understand how 'X' and Ayin can be different people once she looks at him. Unnerving as everything else is, no matter if he may be seated at the creepy little locus of normalcy in this overbearingly grandiloquent void, there is simply no way that Angela could ever despair of earning the gaze of a scared little nobody like this. 'Well, uh, whatever Ayin's like in there... could you try to be easy on the guy? Despite everything, he's probably had it pretty hard, from what I remember....' "Has anyone gone easy on anyone else who's had it hard?" Lilian says, thoughtlessly in both senses of the word. "If he wrote the Script then it'd be terribly hypocritical of him to expect anything else. Confronting the mastermind is always the time you pull out all the stops." A sense of distraction hangs about her, unrelated to the way her stare restlessly flits around the office. Unrelated to the experience of 'being the mastermind' she herself has just put herself through as well. She looks to X at the last moment, and says "Don't tell me you've gotten attached to a man you barely remember?" as if the answer matters. Lilian considers that idea for as long as it takes to be interrupted with the thought that she kind of hates goofy little Psychonauts head-doors by now. They were charming at first, but her experiences with them keep being truly just awful. She might feel a cold stab of panic, if she actually saw Petra holding on to Angela. As it stands, she's still able to hope that this is all just psycho-symbolic. . . . . . . . . 'Welcome. I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced.' Lilian was absolutely certain that she was just wearing her armour, but the first click of her heel bids her pause; and a quick downward glance reveals to herself the graduation outfit she'd worn once a year ago and not since. She double takes sidewards at Flamel's . . . garbled? Censored? Freeform interpreted? Speech of his own, then tracks mistrustfully back wards Ayin. Despite their relative positions, Lilian turns up her chin by ten degrees. "Dame Commander and Trídéag Association Director Lilian Rook. I've heard more than enough about you to not need to ask." she says. A quiet dissonant note backing her own voice is muffled, and fades. "Considering the state you're in outside, I'd never have expected that you once looked like an actual CEO." she says, despite him wearing an orchestral labcoat. "That is, handsome enough that I know better than to trust you." '<True CEO of Lobotomy Corporation>' 'I am the <Warden and First-jailed of Hell>' '<New God of This Putrefying World>' The tremendous crack that splits the concert hall into hundreds of loosely-glued fragments causes the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her hand darts to her pendant; back in place without her sword in hand, feeling strange about drawing it a second time without banishing it. "Surely, just for yourself, you've thought of something else than emotional torture to fill up your part of the gauge. The man who drew up this plan--" Lilian can't help but glance to the wind-up Carmen; ostensibly in control, as the conductor, but little more than a tottering simulacrum that glorifies the main performer in the end. "--or rather, consigned everyone to it, must have something else in mind than 'the same as his employees'. A CEO would never." she says. "And you look far too smug about it."
Petra Soroka	BEFORE THE MINDSCAPE . . . "Do you want me to turn the microphone on so you can hear?" Petra shakes her head, then hesitates. Flamel saying that she can't be allowed to hear makes her really really want to. But, in the end, she frowns and drops her hand to her side. "... No, I probably shouldn't. It'd just be gossip at this point." "No promises." X weakly, but fondly, smiles at Hokma. "C'mon, man. You, of all people, have got to get it the most, right?" "Don't tell me you've gotten attached to a man you barely remember?" It starts to seem like the only kind of expression that X is capable of making is different forms of smiles, which is sort of true when he's not horrified. Sheepishly, he waves his doorless hand side to side. "Hey, don't tell me you know how to feel about a guy, who's also you, trapping you in the worst job of your life, where you don't get to leave your office and everyone hates you for some really truly terrible stuff you never even really did yourself, slowly taking your mind back over... and I guess if you do know, I shoulda talked to you a while ago, haha. ... Too late for that now, though." THE CONCERT HALL . . . They might not have met you -- but you could say that in a way, your reputations really precede you!" With his arms still widespread, the concert hall puts itself back together in a blink the moment Ayin sops speaking, as if it was a trick of your imagination. He smiles down at Flamel, slowly lowering his arms back down to his side. "I suppose they do. But does anything truly compare to the real thing, Flamel?" "That is, handsome enough that I know better than to trust you." Ayin tilts his chin down, mirroring Lilian's look down at her, with his hair spilling to shadow over his eyes with a smile. "Charmed as well, Director." "He-llo, Ayin... You've been waiting for us for a long time, haven't you?" Ayin walks to the very front of the stage, ahead of the orchestra with the Sephirot playing and Carmen conducting right behind him. He looks out over the crowd and slides his hands into his labcoat pockets, as if searching for something or someone within it. "I've been waiting for something, certainly. A breath of fresh air. An end to all of this, certainly. You all specifically... well, it's been fresh air of a sort." Kukuru's final question takes him slightly off-guard, eyes widening. He leans his head back and laughs lightly, a completely different sound from all the grandiloquient speeches he's making. "... After? This has been my whole life." With his next words, the concert hall shatters and then reforms again, echoing threefold. <An End To It All> "I suppose what I'd like is, <The World On Its Knees Before Me>." <My Place At The Head Of The Table>
Petra Soroka	"Both warden and prisoner... it's a heavy burden," "Warden and First-jailed of Hell? That is quite a title." "So it is." Hands in his coat pockets, Ayin turns to look at the Sephirot still playing their parts in the music. The clockwork Carmen hisses out steam from her elbow and jitters. "Has it ever seemed strange that I would write a Script with demands on myself as high as I did? That the mechanisms of my own creation would be so harsh that 'I'-- or 'X'-- can't even be allowed to leave the office, much less the facility? Did I simply underestimate the time or the cost it would have?" "No. I did not. Everything was all... only what was necessary to get to this point." "It's very important to us that these people, the people who answer to them, and especially Angela, don't have to do any of this again." "... Isn't that funny. 'Especially her', and not 'especially the people of the City'. Even when what she was built for was, in the end, just to help all of them." Ayin lays his hand on Benjamin's shoulder while he plays the piano to Carmen's direction. "Do you think that I want any of them to go through this either? Even Garion... Garion I would gladly do a thousand times worse if it helped the Project, but even her, I don't hate. No. No more loops." With a murmured 'You can talk, you know. I trust you won't speak over me,', Benjamin, and then the other Sephirot, blink back into awareness. Conscious on his command, but still mid-performance by Carmen's command. "Hi. Um, I don't think you know me, but you used to be Ms. Angela, right?" The clockwork Carmen's face is more like a stuffed animal's or a doll's than a person. The sheet of copper over the clicking mechanisms of her body looks like it's painted by a shaky hand, with details uncertain, held in place like a photograph and fading like a memory. Her expression isn't suited to conducting an orchestra at all-- smiling earnestly, red eyes turned to the side, with an abstract twinkle of passion that's nearly smudged away by recollection. "... She doesn't talk to me, either." Ayin stands still, a short distance behind Rita and looking past her to Carmen. At first glance, his expression is one of an apathetic nonbeliever rationally informing you that 'ghosts' aren't real and can't 'talk'. Lingering a fraction of a second longer before he looks away makes it plainly heartbreak instead. "...But you're still playing along for her, just as much as anybody else here. Aren't you, Ayin?" "... For her. All of it, for the past twenty years, has been for her. More than for anyone else, she was my guiding star." He turns away and sighs, looking up to the vaulted ceiling of the concert hall. Clockwork Carmen slows, dragging the tempo of the music down with her, while she ticks and rattles. "And so, where does that leave me now?"
Petra Soroka	"And you look far too smug about it." "Of course." To every part of what Lilian said, that he thought of something better, that a CEO would never, and of course that's incorrigibly smug. Standing behind Carmen's podium like her shadow, his gold eyes seem to practically glow. "It's not nearly as easy as needing to help me 'work past' some quaint trauma, is it? Elijah, Michelle, your contributions to the Seed of Light are irreplaceable and dearly appreciated, but if that was all, I'd simply do it on my own, wouldn't I?" "No. Ninety percent complete, and I am not merely an obstacle to be overcome and discarded." <Deserve My Share> "I hesitate now, only because I <Have My Doubts>." <Can't Stand It Any Longer> Like a wind-up toy, the clockwork Carmen guiding the orchestra begins to slow and squeak. A dramatic flourish of her baton towards Kali for a crescendo causes her to lock up, clicking gears barely creaking her back into motion for another measure. No matter what, the inevitable grinding hesitation of the conductor trends towards a stop-- And when Carmen stops, so too does everything else. The music goes silent, with even the echoes deadening instantly. The crowd stills, suddenly more reminiscent of lifeless cardboard cutouts than people, or frozen as if they're bracing for something terrible to happen on stage. Ayin goes quiet, and his heels rapping on the stage as he walks over to Carmen are the only sound allowed to resonate in the hall. Stepping up onto her conductor's podium, he tenderly slides his hand over the brass and clockwork of the back of Carmen's. Hand wrapped around hand, his fingers touching the baton, he leans his head over her shoulder to look down at the 'sheet music' in front of her-- sprawling mathematical and chemical formulas, spreadsheets referencing numbers that change constantly. "With Carmen gone...."
Petra Soroka	And then, with the first downbeat of his hand wielding Carmen's baton, the concert hall crumbles away and falls, falls, falls, becoming somewhere entirely different. Orange setting-sunlight streams through floor to ceiling windows that make up an entire wall of the luxurious penthouse you're all inside now. A dizzying blend of corporate glamour and pseudo-Victorian indulgence, crystal chandeliers hang over a room of black leather and rose gold wood, gold emblems of the Lobotomy Corporation logo pressed into the leather of the couches. Paintings-- of art, and of Ayin, Benjamin, and Carmen together-- decorate the walls, and marble statues-- mostly of other things, but one of Carmen-- are placed in corners and on desks. The penthouse is so staggeringly high up atop some office building, that the entire tapestry of the City unfolds beneath it, to the edge of District 12 and beyond. Overlooking that view is a luxurious dark wooden corporate desk, behind which is a throne of black, royal red, and gold, where Ayin sits, leaning on one of the arms. Not exactly the same 'Ayin' as was in the concert hall: this one is slightly older, the age 'Ayin' should be if his last ten years hadn't been spent in a time loop, though being forty rather than thirty has only does him favors. Hair pushed back so his golden eyes aren't shadowed, a trimmed black beard that's just starting to show bits of grey, and most strikingly-- rather than a labcoat, this Ayin is only wearing a suit. He swirls the glass of wine in his hand, and gestures to the couches for you to sit down, like this is just a business meeting. He closes his eyes and unhurriedly takes a sip, comfortable letting you wait as long as he wants until he's ready to speak, and then casts his gaze out to the gradually darkening cityscape. "I could've had anything I wanted, you know. My whole life, even before I was out of school, the elite of the world were hounding me for my time and attention, all certain beyond doubt that I would be the next rising star." Ayin takes a slow sip. "They were right, of course. More right than they could possibly know. And yet not a single one of them caught my eye. Do you know why?" He doesn't stop to give time for an answer, because it's obviously rhetorical. Ayin sits up in his throne and lays a hand on his desk, spinning a black-gold file around with a finger. "Because I was waiting for Carmen. What else could it be? What else could have possibly been worth my talents, besides her? To change the City on a scale beyond even what the Head could manage, following in her vision... that was what I wanted. To dedicate myself to her dream, greater than anything I could dream of...." "So, without her...." Ayin closes his eyes again and sighs, seeming to age another ten years in an instant. A corner of his refined businessman aesthetic cracks, letting genuine misery seep in. "... Of course it'd be impossible." "Before Carmen died, the Seed of Light Project was so full of hope. Not just in the end result of the Tree, but everything that came before it too; we chose our risks, did our work, rolled up our sleeves to minimize the costs. Back then... a handful of deaths was enough to break her heart in half."
Petra Soroka	He lifts his eyes to each of the Sephirot in turn, eventually landing and lingering on Lisa. For a moment, he almost seems like a person. "... And then ever since, they've ceased to matter. Those deaths, from you, Elijah, to Enoch, to Garion, when I was drenched in your brain matter up to my elbows... those are the only ones I remember. The first of millions for fulfilling Carmen's dream, counting the Smoke War and each of our branches, and even those were enough to drive her to despair." "And so... it's time to face reality. What we've been building for these past ten thousand loops hasn't been Carmen's dream." He sighs and rolls his hand over to indicate the windows. Night falls over the City at his motion, and every house and office in sight is lit by the same green-tinged glow in their windows, as if enkephalin-sourced power was visible. "It's only been mine. The Seed of Light died along with Carmen. The thing we've constructed in its place, from the very first step I took ahead without her, is just another Wing of the City." "Even Benjamin knows it. All those compromises we made... perhaps there were other ways to advance the Project in a way Carmen would've wanted, but the limits of my mind only end where hers continued on forever. And Benjamin would never say no to me, and so here the project culminates, in the CEO of District 12." "Carmen may be gone, and her dream impossible. But I, I am right where I am meant to be." Ayin stands up, leaning with his palms pressed on the massive desk. With a flick of his wrist, he sends that black-gold file sliding across the table to where the Elites and Sephirot are seated. "This City, these Wings; I was born for this. Bred for it. The lifeblood of this hellhole flows through me, dances in the palm of my hand. Without Carmen, I am still the greatest man this City has ever known!" The file contains papers, business deals, newspaper clippings. R Corp's struggles with finances and eventual buyout by L Corp, folding them into a singular Wing under Ayin's control. TimeTrack's overdependency on Warp Corp and L Corp, becoming a subsidiary of L Corp in all but name. The increasing pressure on Warp Corp to fold into the growing monopoly, murmurs of alarm and threat from Wings across the world. "Without the Seed of Light, how else could Carmen's dream even be partially realized?! Who else could possibly wield this much power in the City, and keep Carmen in my heart as I do?! I alone can threaten the Head, and if I only trust in Carmen that these miserable parasites are worth anything, then I can change the City for them myself!" "So tell me: why shouldn't I abandon the loops, abandon the Seed of Light, whatever decaying vestiges of it are left, and lead my company to its true glory?!"
Angela	BEFORE THE PORTAL POP Hokma smiles back at Ayin. He does know. It is a little lighter on his chest, even if this is not the true Ayin, the echo of better days are there. "Kukuru." Angela says. "...Do not overexert yourself.--There is no need to worry about us. I would appreciate it if you worried about yourself. It won't be pleasant in there." She doesn't know what's going to be in there but she figures it's a safe bet. She bobs her head to Flamel in agreement. He's the expert and she just doesn't care so long as it ends with this. Rita's eyes snap to the door and she sees a half-glimpse of a black and red haired man sipping she-knows-what from a wineglass, expression wholly at peace--but before he can take notice of her, Rita's already moved along. Angela's eyes do, however, meet Rita's. She can't read Rita's mind but Rita always understood that Angela wanted to be friends with her, and she offers her a brief smile. Every step along the way everyone clawed out for her, Angela's been smiling more, more relaxed, more desperate in some ways and less so in others. Receiving pats from Rita can only relax Gebura so much, but it does seem to help. Angela seemed impassive in the face of an apology. To be totally real, Angela doesn't really understand. Some of the other agents and Sephirah might have their opinions, but Angela...actually would have totally been fine if they stole that pagoda and left. "You should have escaped, but thank you." Angela says, looking a mix between uneasy and grateful. ''And why wouldn't it be the very first one?'' "It was the first one." Angela says. "You should ask Tamamo sometime why Keter is at the bottom." She is being a bit cheeky with Sougo here. "I was created on this level." ''Hopefully giving Angela better things to do than antagonize Sarracenia.'' ''What is the first thing you are going to do once you are free? And do not say kill me.'' "Why would I kill you? I'd have better things to do with my time. No, I intend to go see the ocean, feel the sand beneath my feet for the first time. I may go sailing, even. I was going to go to Apple Tree Island, sail that great ocean--but I probably should build up to something like that." She glances to Rita again. WHY does Angela want to be Rita's friend? Well maybe it's a bit obvious after she said that.
Angela	CONCERT HALL Rita approaches Kali and talks to her. She doesn't immediately snap to attention when Rita speaks to her, but while her attention is off of her she groggily wakes up thanks to that nudge. She stops playing for a second which results in a crack forming upon the artifice but she quickly hurriedly goes back to following the music as she looks over to Rita. "Sorry I kinda zoned out for a minute. How did we end up here? ... Why am I dressed up all fancy-like?" The Carmen does not speak or acknowledge Rita. Perhaps this is more an image of Carmen, or a pedestal, rather than the real thing or even a true memory. As the concert hall starts cracking, the Sephirah start waking up as well. "Ah shit we broke Ayin." Kali says. "Oh but I love this outfit--Can I take it out with me?" Elijah says before hearing what Ayin says. "...Irreplaceable? You're telling me that now...?" "It seems we are in for a shift--!" Gabriel shouts. "He sounds like he's giving three different answers... That can't be good..." Michelle frets before startling herself at being called upon. "Even me...? But I caused so much trouble--If I worked hard enough to get you to say something like that..." "Ahhhhn...." Giovanni yawns sleepily. "Still likes to run us through the hoops..." Benjamin looks up as Ayin places a hand on his shoulder. "We really made her suffer, Ayin. We gave her that ability." He says, shoulders shaking with the sort of emotion you get when you speak to your partner for the first time in ages. "We have a responsibility to her and we've shirked it. You have a little time left to change that. She has her own desires, Ayin." There is a shift and...
Angela	The Sephirah are with you in the Office, still in their human, pre-death forms. Giovanni immediately flops onto the couch when one is offered but the others seem more hesitant to get on it, not really because they think it's a trap but because the emotional stakes are too real and serious for them to just relax and talk about it on a couch! ''Even before I was out of school, the elite of the world were hounding me.'' "You and I were made for this world. That was only natural." Garion says. ''What else could have possibly been worth our talents?'' "You weren't content to just take the place of our mentors and became another cog in this City." Benjamin murmurs. Lisa is scowling, particularly when Ayin(?) starts saying it was all for nothing but she holds her tongue. Kali clenches her fists but remains silent as well. Daniel chuckles at how similar Ayin's story sounds to his and shakes his head. Something clicks for him that makes it all makes sense to him. But the Asiyah Sephirah push forward (minus Giovanni) as a unified front. "Ayin... How could you say it was for nothing? We stumbled on our way to this point for sure, made mistakes we can't take back--but to just give up?? When we're this close!?" Elijah still looks up to Ayin, cares for him in her own way even though he left her to die, even though he did not look at her either in those last moments."Don't you dare start slouching now, you know what you have to do...!" "You must stay rational," Gabriel says. "If we lose our minds, we lose ourselves. You did not do this for glory or for money--if that is what you wanted, you would have never joined Carmen in the first place. Yes, you can be a CEO. But that is not your dream." "Um..." Michelle fidgets. She is so much smaller now... "...I was uneasy too when we met, and I ran away too. But we have to face ourselves now or we'll never get to properly rest. You have a duty to see this through, you have people to make it up for, and you can't leave this all behind until you do. Our wrongdoings can't be forgiven, but we can still become better people!" Giovanni stretches out on a couch. "'Sides, you told me it was all for her when you killed me. If you just settle for being a 'CEO', Carmen would've spat in your face for standing against everything she stood for. You bloodied our hands and yours to plant seeds, so plant seeds." They sit themselves up a moment later to add, "You got me to be a bit more fearless. Just live your life for once, man. I mean even I made it this far, what makes you think you can't?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel tracks the crumbling. Watches the concert hall fall away. He finds stable ground where he knows one thought will flow into another in the train. He sits at the table with the others, but only in the most technical sense, another face in another suit in another chair, nothing to make him stand out. When he takes the file... He presses pages against the table. When he presses them down, they seem to expand, the scenarios of corporate takeover expanding into whole campaigns in life-size. There's a blurring of ambiguous activity. Astral space is smeared into reality here, so things are less solid. But one gets the impression that Flamel is... injecting himself into the events here, the R corp buyout, T corp, W corp -- combat sequences, time challenges, and challenges aboard the trains below the city. He's in the background of intel of the photos in those files now, looking in the background for something... Parts of Carmen. Fragments. Anything he can dig up, any clockwork he can find, any pieces to restore. He has to enmable the remnants of the woman, the clear mental image that remains from her actual life. He rambles, as he works inside the metaphor-space of the files. "Because you can't abandon Carmen. Not the idea -- the person. You have to accept that she's stronger than you, not the idea of her but the reality of her. It doesn't matter that you're stronger than the Head, or could be if you tried. It doesn't matter that she's dead and you're alive. She's still in here. With all the flaws and all the strength she had." He's going to assemble, link up, recover, everything he can about her. Spread her along the rails, wind up her springs and prolong their activity with TimeTrack's machinery... use R-Corp resources to destroy everything that would threaten her. "There's more of her in here than there is of you. You can let it decay or you can let it thrive, but you can't turn it into your own power, you can't bottle her essence and use it to make the right decisions. In the end, you enable her strength or you let it decay. You don't have any third choices." It's unhealthy work, and it's forcing astral activity besides. Nothing like this can last more than a week or two at best. It's not good psychonautry, and even amateurs would be able to tell. What is Flamel doing?
Timespace Riders	An End to It All The World On Its Knees Before Me My Place At The Head Of The Table Woz chuckles, in spite of the gravity of the situation. The second shattering is still startling; but not so much as the first. "I can see why Benjamin would be taken with someone like you." 'What a pity' is written on his face even as the words leave him. ... Isn't that funny. 'Especially her', and not 'especially the people of the City'. Even when what she was built for was, in the end, just to help all of them. "Well, I'm sorry, but if that's what you were trying to do, you failed," says Sougo. "Thousands of times over by now, actually. I don't know how you expected her to help millions of people when she couldn't even count on help from one person. Look at where we are right now--watching you make a grand performance for an audience you can't be bothered to notice as people. This is a place for someone who wants to be adored, not a savior." "You didn't give her any reason to care about those people," continues Sougo. "Every connection she's formed, every bit of happiness she's found, that was in spite of you. If you want to say that was part of the Script, well... the Script sucks." No. No more loops. "...I'm glad you agree." Deserve My Share Have My Doubts Can't Stand It Any Longer Sougo's response is muted, disallowed to be heard, as is everything other than the clicking of Ayin's shoes. He and Woz tumble in the gap between spaces as it all crumbles away, until they land in the penthouse. Sougo smooths his button-up and takes a seat as bidden, Woz falling in beside him. Without Carmen, I am still the greatest man this City has ever known! Sougo sighs. You were so close to going somewhere with that that didn't suck. They do listen, Sougo leafs through the file, then Woz, then it's passed on to whoever else will look. So tell me: why shouldn't I abandon the loops, abandon the Seed of Light, whatever decaying vestiges of it are left, and lead my company to its true glory?! "You said so yourself," Sougo answers. "In trying to save people from the Wings, you'll just become another one. You already talk like they do. You think like they do, too. 'Miserable parasites.'" "There's nothing glorious about the same old cruelty with a new paint job," he adds with an uncharacteristic tiredness. "Angela should be every reason you need to finish the project. You failed everybody in the City and you failed her. At the very least, you could do something for her, for once, ever. If that's not enough--and, again, it really should be--then think about how this," he says, tapping the file, "Isn't Carmen's dream. It's her nightmare."
UFO Gang	The others speak up. Shou remembers - listen to others. Don't preach. They know better in this case. She has mostly been giving a lot of random upper-side agents tips on meditation for the last few months. (It's a living.) (She did smile privately at Sougo's self-description.) And then Ayin speaks, and he has a lot to say; Shou's eyes flick to the side for a moment when, after he takes control of Carmen's performance, the world changes again. It has happened twice now; she smooths the front of her robe. Yes: if it happened twice, it will surely happen again. There is much from Ayin, then. The world shimmers. The illusion is shifting, Shou thinks, glancing with momentary concern back towards the others - but it seems like Flamel is the one taking field command. There is a little murmuring to herself, almost a hum more than anything. Listen. Listen, Nazrin told her. Impious as Nazrin is, it's good advice. "He speaks truly," Shou says, after Sougo does. "You will not abandon these loops. You will step only from one wheel to another wheel." Shou spreads her hands. "It is said that we only truly pass away when we are lost from memory... and memory is a complex matter. It is more than simple facts and chronicles, or the sequence of causes and effects that bring us here, now, to this present moment. The one which we all share." Shou brings her hands together. "I did not know Carmen... though I have lived a long time by human reckoning, and I lived when she did. But we had never met... and it seems that I can only know her from these works. Many of them are cruel, and there are many horrors. But Carmen... she has brought great things into motion." She opens her mouth - stopping herself. Her eyes flick to Sougo for a moment, then towards Flamel. Shou begins again, more carefully. "... and yet you stand here, thinking of throwing it all away, for perhaps a few decades of power. So much suffering and struggle... and you stand here at the precipice... Do you seriously intend to do this? To throw away the memory that you have held to for so long? When the conclusion, though imperfect, is in sight?" The Jeweled Pagoda (which has just kind of been hanging out, because it's magical and doesn't actually need Shou to put a hand on it) pulsates a gentle blue gleam at this time. "... Imagine if she could hear you say such things." Shou's eyes stay lidded but she grimaces slightly. It could easily mean 'ugh, I am disgusted at this idea!' seen without context. (Shou also sneakily opens one eye a crack to look towards the people in that direction. Read the room, she tells herself. Read the room!)
Sarracenia	BEFORE THE POP 'Why would I kill you? I'd have better things to do with my time.' Sarra is caught between 'well of course you do' and 'wait I am totally worth the time'. Both thoughts are probably visible on her face as she listens to the rest. "Why build up to it? If it is what you want to do, then do it! I would even be willing to loan you one of my ships on which you could sail. It would be trivial to have it equipped with sails in addition to propellers. You could sail through the sea or sky to this Apple Tree Island." NOW 'I hesitate now, only because I <Have My Doubts>.' Sarra is confused by not only the three endings but the sentiments behind them. "You cannot stand what any longer? And after we have come this far what doubts could you still have? As for your share...is not the completion of the project quite a large share in itself?" Carmen stops. Sarra's eyes widen a bit and she looks around as everything goes quiet. "What in-" she says, except the sound goes nowhere. She watches Ayin touch the automaton Carmen with such tenderness and feels just a hint of jealousy. Not that she knows anything about or likes Ayin, but just the thought of someone touching her hand like that. Then, things are crumbling away and falling. Sarra yelps and instinctively reaches into her purse to pull out a leaf, and so when they arrive in the penthouse she has raccoon ears and a tail. Which she finds she does not need, but with a hand on her chest to try and steady her breathing she keeps them for now. 'Before Carmen died, the Seed of Light Project was so full of hope.' 'Back then... a handful of deaths was enough to break her heart in half... And then ever since, they've ceased to matter.' Sarra's teeth clench. To her, this sounds like a story of romance...and someone doing THIS with their romance gets her blood boiling almost immediately. As the Sephirah speak up, Sarra holds her tongue until they are finished. They have much more riding on this than she does. But as soon as there is a moment, she practically explodes like one of her bob-ombs. "So, the person you dedicated yourself to died and you just...gave up? You GAVE UP?! Do you know what I despise more than just about anything? Someone giving up on a noble dream, and all the more if it is for a terrible reason! And right behind that is losing hope! Hope always remains! You speak of thinks you know she wanted, that she would have expected, and yet...you chose to dishonor everything she was trying to accomplish and now pretend it is facing reality?!" Sarra huffs hotly. "Her death should have made you dedicate yourself to her dream all the more!! You should have worked the way she would have wanted for the dream and the person you found worthy of you! Saying it is impossible simply because Carmen died is an excuse, I think! Why should you not abandon the Seed of Light? Because she started it! Because you believed in it! Because if you abandon it now, Carmen's death and those of all those millions is for naught!"
Sarracenia	"And besides all of that, if Carmen and her dream were the only things worthy of you, surely accomplishing it in her stead would be the greatest glory for you and your company! A company you dedicated to her dream! She wished to change the entire City, and set you on a path to do just that! What true glory even remains if you have given up on that dream?!" Sarra huffs again. "A dream which it sounds like you still want to see happen! If you kept the project going in her name, even if it became a bit lost or misguided, then there is still hope! She started the Seed of Light, which means it can be completed! Just because it is difficult does not make it impossible! You just said vestiges of it are left, which means we are not without the Seed of Light! We can complete it! We just have to be allowed to! A real CEO would let those qualified to do it do their work and reap the rewards after! You would have your share then! But instead of going all in and earning the largest share you can, you want to cut your losses and settle for a lesser share? Hmph!" Sarra listens to some of what the others are saying, then crosses her arms. "No matter how you look at it, whether you want to be a CEO or you do not...giving up on Carmen's dream was and is a betrayal of both her and yourself. If you do not think you are worth it, then just keep in mind that you know that she is."
Hibiki Tachibana	... For her. All of it, for the past twenty years, has been for her. More than for anyone else, she was my guiding star. Ah. What a weird feeling it is, to feel not only sympathy for Manager X, but empathy for Ayin. Of all people, here. In the single shared sense that, without that guiding star to follow, to light the way ahead, there's... ...nothing but darkness. An endless, endless pit of darkness to stumble and fall through. ... This particular one, at least, eventually finds its stopping point in the extravagant, well-lit penthouse office. Hibiki is still reeling and dazed somewhat when the new surroundings resolve themselves, and it's not entirely from the change in setting. Still, she tightens her hands into small fists, taking a cursory glance around... before settling back on the older incarnation of Ayin. She doesn't take a seat. But she's plenty fine patiently waiting for him to speak. And when he does, her lips purse themselves tight. Because I was waiting for Carmen. Her. And her dream. Her eyes briefly drifting aside, to the panorama of the City, at the same moment he speaks of the impossibility of it all without her. What we've been building for these past ten thousand loops hasn't been Carmen's dream. ...He's not wrong, even if she doesn't say it out loud. This is Ayin's - and the Sephirah's - attempt to carry that dream forward. Of course it doesn't have the same shape. It can't. ...but the limits of my mind only end where hers continued on forever. ...Especially when not equipped to do it. Not in the same way. But I, I am right where I am meant to be. Without Carmen, I am still the greatest man this City has ever known! That's when she slowly turns her head back in Ayin's direction. So tell me: why shouldn't I abandon the loops, abandon the Seed of Light, whatever decaying vestiges of it are left, and lead my company to its true glory?! "...Because it's not what she'd want you to do." "...Because it's not what you really want to do, either." "All of that... is just you trying to make it hurt less by calling this 'good enough'. Because you don't know what the right way is, to get further than this without her by your side. ...Not the way she'd have wanted it to go." Her eyes aren't on him. They're not on the files, or on the enkephalin-lit cityscape outside. They're just on a blank patch of table. "You have all this power - but the best you could manage was this messy, bloody try at carrying it on anyway. But even so, throwing it all away now... it wouldn't just make it all for nothing in the end. It still wouldn't give you what you really want, most of all." She's sort of only half-there, in the sense she's just speaking what she thinks without really intentionally going to bat for Flamel's plan.
Kukuru	"... No, I probably shouldn't. It won't be pleasant in there." Kukuru looks from Petra to Angela tearfully, then from Angela to Petra and back again before nodding quickly with a bright smile that almost looks proud and certainly rejuvenated from her bleary state moments ago. "O-of course. Don't you both worry. I'll.. No. We'll make sure to get this all taken care of, and we'll all get through this safe and sound. If any of us were worried about things being unpleasant on the way, we probably wouldn't even be here after the first one." Indeed, the warning might seem like it's gone in one ear and out the other, but Kukuru really does think about just how much she'll need to shut out to get through this herself. As long as it's no worse than the Smoke War in Hokma's Meltdown... No, it could be worse. She can take it, though, for her sake. "Both warden and prisoner... it's a heavy burden," "Way too much for way too long. It's... A lot of lost time." Kukuru comments to Shou, frowning slowly as she looks from her back over at Ayin. "Especially if you're doing to yourself for all sorts of complicated reasons, or ones that bring you to do all this... This, mhm." Rita's face scrunches again . . . Kukuru climbs up on stage to join Rita, nudging the back of her hand gently before '''subtly''' sliding some kind of cellophane-wrapped food bar towards her. It looks and smells like some kind of purple and red bloody-juicy thing, with a notably fruity note. "I found out there's something called dragonfruit that's supposed to be really good for you." She explains with another '''subtle''' wink and leaves the bar (hopefully) in Rita's hand. She really packed a lot of meat in there, like one of those super dense meal replacement food bars. "I've been waiting for something, certainly." "Have you? Ah, that makes things easier, then... We've finally almost gotten to the end, too, so you won't have to wait very long." Kukuru chimes in, then snaps her fingers once she notices the Riders giving their introductions. "Oh. My name's Kukuru." Pause, then "That's Ku-ku-ru. I've been helping move this big project along, too, even if it's been mooore... Physical?" A beat, then a nod. "Physical stuff. Believe it or not, I'm mu-uch better at that than mental stuff even though I look like this." She taps on her eye, flinches, then remembers that she forgot her fake glasses.
Kukuru	"'Especially her', and not 'especially the people of the City'." "Is it wrong to think about your family first?" Kukuru moves over to the clockwork Carmen, remembers that she's kind of bad with machines, then gives her a gentle pat on the arm while looking up at that smiling face with an earnest one of her own. "Even if you have unlimited love to give, there's... You can't be nice to everyone blindly, or you'll just end up hurting the people you really wanted to be good to, just like..." "I hesitate now, only because I <Have My Doubts>." The smile on her face grows a little more somber, and then she turns to Ayin again as the concert hall turns into a penthouse. "Those doubts never stop, Ayin. There's always something we could've done better, you know? Maybe we could've been faster, or done something smarter, something that could've meant fewer people we care about getting hurt, or..." She pauses, then sighs lightly while taking a seat on the couch, slouching back a bit while letting her mind dwell just a bit on her own failures. "I don't know a whole lot about... A whole lotta stuff. Everyone here's so much smarter about all kinds of science stuff, magical stuff, fighting stuff, and so much other stuff that... All I can do half the time is smile, nod, and hope I don't mess things up doing something that makes it worse for them." She gets back up to look out the windows, eyeing those enkephalin-powered houses. "But I still keep doing it, because I want to do better for my family... And my friends, instead of doing nothing because it's scary." "And maybe you did make some mistakes along the way, and... Some of them can't be taken back, no. All I know is that something beautiful came out of your work with Carmen, too and..." Kukuru's smile grows again, ignoring the file he slides over entirely. "She's been doing wonderfully. If you don't know what to do, why not watch over her? See her grow, learn, feel, experience all kinds of things, mold the City with your own hands so she can do even more. You might've missed a lot of time together, but it's not too late." Kukuru leans back in her seat again, pulling her legs up to rest her head on her knees while Ayin speaks of abandoning the loops and the Seed. "Well... What's in it for you to do all that? Glory feels nice, bu-ut... You've been doing this for so long that you haven't thought about retirement at all, have you? Waking up late, eating something tasty after exercising outside a little, taking a nap in the afternoon, then staying up super late at night... That's the perfect time to reconnect with your daughter, and you'd be able to see all kinds of impossible things she could do as... Oh. As part of Carmen's legacy."
Rita Ma	Rita studies the little twinkle of passion in Carmen's eyes. Ayin's discouraging doesn't sway her. She still crouches like she might get a response, not looking away until... "Oh, Ms. Gebura! You're awake! Mr. Flamel is doing a thing to let us help A--" While she's looking away from Carmen, the automaton grinds to a stop, and the concert hall falls away. Rita lands on her feet in the penthouse, wobbles, and then steadies. Instead of the Trideag outfit, she's now in her preppy heiress clothes, subtly dressed up with a little gold-chain bracelet. (The respirator's gone, but so is the blood. Rita takes a deep breath of clean air, and her head stops swimming.) 'Millions', she mouths silently, and looks away from a window to Kali. 'Is that true?' she's wordlessly asking, but she knows already it is. About thirty seconds pass while Rita unhappily turns a perfect red apple over in her hands. Who knows where she got it. She watches the conversation behind her, glumly, reflected in the glass. "You didn't think you could go on without Ms. Carmen when you made a replacement," she finally says in a lull. "'I'll do it myself'. You only started thinking that when Ms. Angela didn't turn out like you hoped." "When it comes down to it... the City will tempt you and destroy you, won't it?" She turns to face him and gestures with the apple, almost letting it fall from her fingers. "I barely know you, but it's in everything you say." "You don't have a dream of your own, Mr. Ayin. You have Ms. Carmen's dream, or else the City's dream. That's why you looked for someone like her at the start, instead of taking the City's path. You knew back then if you let them tell you what 'success' is, you'd feel satisfied being the best at something you hate. That's what I think." It'd sound mean coming from someone else, but from Rita it's limp, contemplative, uncomfortably close to her own heart.
Lilian Rook	'Hey, don't tell me you know how to feel about a guy, who's also you, trapping you in the worst job of your life, where you don't get to leave your office and everyone hates you for some really truly terrible stuff you never even really did yourself' Lilian slowly starts to squint. 'slowly taking your mind back over... and I guess if you do know, I shoulda talked to you a while ago, haha. ... Too late for that now, though.' "Well, I suppose not." she says, waving her hand. "But it still sounds terribly like confabulation. . . . . . . . . 'Charmed as well, Director.' "I wouldn't go that far." says a Lilian who is far more tense about the same man all of a sudden; and it doesn't have all that much to do with the walls cracking and bleeding. Her hand remains on her chain for the immediacy of the potential threat, but her unease near the border of mislike comes entirely from something else : When it comes to the Multiverse, bedraggled smiling men are liabilities, but hot smiling men are dangerous. '... Isn't that funny. 'Especially her', and not 'especially the people of the City'.' Lilian silently swallows as if she's bracing for something. '... She doesn't talk to me, either.' "You're dead, Ayin. Reduced to memories of a man. Carmen is just . . . <s-- something else." Lilian says, raising her hand to press lightly against her throat, eyes evincing concern. "And I don't think you're equipped to understand what it is." She quickly looks to Kali, frowning at the special emphasis of Ayin's control. Her teeth subtly grit as her surroundings dull and slow and become lifeless. '<Deserve My Share>' '<Have My Doubts>' '<Can't Stand It Any Longer>' "I fucking knew it." Lilian falls into the crumbling void with enough clarity to brace for it. The concern hall shattering away is the second shoe dropping that she'd been waiting for since it fractured. Wired and waiting, she responds to the metaphorical plummet with a pulse of black magic that is fundamentally useless, but effectively instinctive, holding down her skirt with one hand and her sword-pendant with the other. The space between her formal heels and the penthouse floor crackles black for a few seconds before she dares terminate the spell and bridge the last few inches. The penthouse itself is beautiful. That fact isn't lost on her. It's something she's seen herself a handful of times, and dreamed about hundreds more. Scanning her surroundings is perfunctory; required of her from the part that has to check for threats; but the way she holds the line of her lips and greedily looks without blinking can't fully hide the faintly hungry nature of it all. This is the kind of place she'd envisioned herself after all. Something like what her brother has, but better. Somewhere far away from that old mansion which she loves and despises, where the world is beneath her rather than far away. Somewhere on top; somewhere normal. A place she can easily imagine sharing drinks with Tamamo on New Years. 'I could've had anything I wanted, you know.' "Everyone thinks that back when they still believe in fairy tales."
Lilian Rook	'Hey, don't tell me you know how to feel about a guy, who's also you, trapping you in the worst job of your life, where you don't get to leave your office and everyone hates you for some really truly terrible stuff you never even really did yourself' Lilian slowly starts to squint. 'slowly taking your mind back over... and I guess if you do know, I shoulda talked to you a while ago, haha. ... Too late for that now, though.' "Well, I suppose not." she says, waving her hand. "But it still sounds terribly like confabulation. . . . . . . . . 'Charmed as well, Director.' "I wouldn't go that far." says a Lilian who is far more tense about the same man all of a sudden; and it doesn't have all that much to do with the walls cracking and bleeding. Her hand remains on her chain for the immediacy of the potential threat, but her unease near the border of mislike comes entirely from something else : When it comes to the Multiverse, bedraggled smiling men are liabilities, but hot smiling men are dangerous. '... Isn't that funny. 'Especially her', and not 'especially the people of the City'.' Lilian silently swallows as if she's bracing for something. '... She doesn't talk to me, either.' "You're dead, Ayin. Reduced to memories of a man. Carmen is just . . . <s-- something else." Lilian says, raising her hand to press lightly against her throat, eyes evincing concern. "And I don't think you're equipped to understand what it is." She quickly looks to Kali, frowning at the special emphasis of Ayin's control. Her teeth subtly grit as her surroundings dull and slow and become lifeless. '<Deserve My Share>' '<Have My Doubts>' '<Can't Stand It Any Longer>' "I fucking knew it." Lilian falls into the crumbling void with enough clarity to brace for it. The concern hall shattering away is the second shoe dropping that she'd been waiting for since it fractured. Wired and waiting, she responds to the metaphorical plummet with a pulse of black magic that is fundamentally useless, but effectively instinctive, holding down her skirt with one hand and her sword-pendant with the other. The space between her formal heels and the penthouse floor crackles black for a few seconds before she dares terminate the spell and bridge the last few inches. The penthouse itself is beautiful. That fact isn't lost on her. It's something she's seen herself a handful of times, and dreamed about hundreds more. Scanning her surroundings is perfunctory; required of her from the part that has to check for threats; but the way she holds the line of her lips and greedily looks without blinking can't fully hide the faintly hungry nature of it all. This is the kind of place she'd envisioned herself after all. Something like what her brother has, but better. Somewhere far away from that old mansion which she loves and despises, where the world is beneath her rather than far away. Somewhere on top; somewhere normal. A place she can easily imagine sharing drinks with Tamamo on New Years. 'I could've had anything I wanted, you know.' "Everyone thinks that back when they still believe in fairy tales."
Lilian Rook	'... And then ever since, they've ceased to matter. Those deaths, from you, Elijah, to Enoch, to Garion, when I was drenched in your brain matter up to my elbows... those are the only ones I remember. The first of millions for fulfilling Carmen's dream, counting the Smoke War and each of our branches, and even those were enough to drive her to despair.' Lilian steps forward. Her heel sounds so loud she wonders if it's anger or not. She pulls the latch from her necklace, and lets the pendant hang from her balled fist at her side. "So fucking what? People died. Are you going to cry about it?" she half-gasps in exasperation that she struggles to name. "They're dying by the thousands every day. Butchered in filthy back alleys, wasting away in warehouse lofts, devoured by monsters on the fringes; starving in the streets, shot dead by the law, made examples of by the Syndicates, made guinea pigs by the Wings." Coming to the conclusion is what tells Lilian where the feeling comes from. The realization is pieced together with each word that flows from her mouth. "Carmen founded the project because she couldn't stand it. Are you simple?" The final set are spat with such venom that, even to herself, her own frustration is totally unmistakable in its source. "If you can't overlook it in her place, then what are you fucking good for?" 'Without Carmen, I am still the greatest man this City has ever known!' 'Who else could possibly wield this much power in the City, and keep Carmen in my heart as I do?!' 'I alone can threaten the Head' "You're the paint-by-numbers man that every bright student thinks he's going to be." She takes the file from Woz next, snatching it out of his hands with more force than she needs to. "And you're what they smile and tell them they can be so they don't cause a fuss." It hovers six inches from her palm, and then with a snap of her fingers, it catches light. "Don't make me laugh, Ayin. You're everything the Head could ever hope for; hopelessly addicted to the ambrosia they leave out to drug clever little mice like you from the moment you do well in school, and utterly enraptured by their little play-pretend war of Wings and Nests because it helps you get your wiggles out." 'So tell me: why shouldn't I abandon the loops, abandon the Seed of Light, whatever decaying vestiges of it are left, and lead my company to its true glory?!'
Lilian Rook	Lilian struts forward, burning file in hand. The ashes swirl in tight concentration above her palm, where she deposits them in the desktop ashtray like a used up cigarette. She slams her hand down on the rosewood surface, leaning across the tabletop with enough aggression to put her halfway nose to nose with the man who looks just like the billionaire demigods she grew up with; not even too distinct from the one she hated most all along. "Because then you were never so much as fit to kiss Carmen's shoes." Lilian rasps the words with enough vitriolic fry that it should peel the varnish from the desktop like acid. "If you're just venting your feelings, Ayin, just getting out all your bitterness in a way you don't really mean, then everything is fine. But if you aren't, then you were the problem all along. The tumour that ruined everything. A cancerous fucking polyp of the City that sucked out Carmen's soul, drove her to despair, and then devoured everything she ever cared about, as if she never lived at all. And they didn't even need the Arbiter to do it." "Tell me you're just thinking out loud, Ayin. If you're just lamenting what you're sacrificing to go through with this, I'll get it; I really do get it. But if you pull that trigger, if you make it as the biggest man in the City, I'll quit the Paladins and throw you out that penthouse window myself."
Petra Soroka	"We stumbled on our way to this point for sure, made mistakes we can't take back--but to just give up?? When we're this close!?" "So, the person you dedicated yourself to died and you just...gave up? You GAVE UP?!" "It's been ten years!" Ayin protests to Elijah and Sarracenia, voice cracking hoarse. "I've followed that star as far as it goes. The Seed of Light wouldn't exist if not for Carmen; Lobotomy Corporation wouldn't exist if not for me. The Project came this far because of my trust in her, don't ever accuse me of giving up on her! But... ten years; ten years wandering off her track. It would be more of a wonder if everything worked just as she said." "Our wrongdoings can't be forgiven, but we can still become better people!" "Michelle..." Ayin leans back in his throne and drags his hand down his face, shielding his eyes between thumb and forefinger. "... I was cruel about it back then, deservedly so, for what you did. But your heart was just as broken by those deaths early on as Carmen's was, wasn't it? Even though you still believed in the Project, it was too much. How many sacrifices does it take to be a better person? When does the Project become a... justification, more than a goal? In all the deaths since then, is it really not possible we've crossed the line where our one good deed can't outweigh our sins?" "There's more of her in here than there is of you. You can let it decay or you can let it thrive, but you can't turn it into your own power, you can't bottle her essence and use it to make the right decisions." As Flamel handles the file and images of could-have-been and could-be political battles play out in flickery recollection around the office, Ayin clenches his fists against the table. Carmen is there in the way this Ayin could have negotiated for the better treatment of R Corp clones, a piece of clockwork is out of place in the TimeTrack device that may have been used to undo a child's fatal shooting, the psychic heat generated by the passion in a speech 'this' Ayin gives to a massive crowd in District 23 could only be hers. There's no 'Carmen' in any of the images, she's long, long dead, but-- glimmers and pareidolia out of the corner of Ayin's eyes makes him grip the collar of his suit and squeeze over his heart, white-knuckled. "She's... she... I've made it no secret that everything I do is for her, and still...." He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering. "She's gone! She's gone. All that's left... all that's left is for me to carry her forwards. Don't show me...." "Angela should be every reason you need to finish the project. You failed everybody in the City and you failed her." "Don't speak to me about her!" Ayin slams his hands on the desk hard enough that the resulting jolt smears the world together. The books of his study melt off of his shelf and the Cityscape outside the window blurs into an indistict, optical-illusion blur of lines, the face of the Carmen statue drooping to one side like soft clay. He glares across the table at Sougo, as incensed as he's ever been. "She isn't even a consideration! She's a failed project, a tool to manage the Sephirot! One more sacrifice on the pyre of millions! To what baffling, absurd, perspective, does her opinion matter?! She exists to complete Carmen's dream, for the benefit of the worthless masses of this godforsaken City! If I've already failed them, then what point is there in going along this doomed path any further?!"
Petra Soroka	"Of course I look down on them! All the mindless rats of the City, ripping each others' throats out and scrambling over each other to be an inch higher on the shitheap of the world they live in!" Ayin storms around his desk, around the black leather couch, frenetically pacing in front of the window. "The Wings feed them rot and they gorge themselves fat on it! There is nothing, nothing in this world worth redeeming!" He whirls around to glare at the group, teeth gritted and stray hairs coming loose from his professional cut to hang dementedly in front of his face. "And still, somehow, it produced Carmen! And Benjamin! For them is why I care, why I bother to spare even an ounce of consideration for those animals! And you would still scoff and sneer and demand I be a saint?!" "... Imagine if she could hear you say such things." "... She can't." Ayin's shoulder slump, fingerprints smearing down the window. "If she could, none of us would have ended up here. The Seed of Light wouldn't have ended up this warped and ruined. She would know the way forwards if she was here, and in an instant, I would follow it." "I can't imagine what Carmen would say if she heard me when I'm standing in a penthouse." Ayin's derisive spitting of the word hits the ground with another splintering distortion, the wooden furniture running like water. Bulbous shapes of rot and gore swell up in the Cityscape outside, and the ornate rug spills over the window ledge like an eternal waterfall. "She wished to change the entire City, and set you on a path to do just that! What true glory even remains if you have given up on that dream?!" "...Because it's not what you really want to do, either." "You did not do this for glory or for money--if that is what you wanted, you would have never joined Carmen in the first place." "The wealth... the 'glory'... what does it even matter?" Ayin staggers back to his throne and slumps into it, breathing heavily. "It's all so tiring. I'm so tired of guessing what Carmen wanted. I'm not... basking in dreams of becoming nothing but the biggest man in the City. I don't want that. Carmen wouldn't want me to want that." "You have all this power - but the best you could manage was this messy, bloody try at carrying it on anyway." Ayin's eyes, looking past his disheveled hair to Hibiki, are practically pleading. He grips the edges of his armrests on the throne, the gold molding like putty under his fingers. "I want to change the world! For better; for her! But this?! Of any of us, it had to be me championing the cause of the wretched human race?! I don't believe in them! How, how am I supposed to follow in her footsteps perfectly when she was the only reason I believed any of them were worth it?!" "Can it not be good enough to carry her torch to somewhere I can manage? She's dead. Benjamin's dead." Ayin gasps, voice raw and rasping deep in his chest. "The plans we made back then seem like a dream now. I was the worst possible one to be left with this burden. If she'd survived... anyone else... anyone else...."
Petra Soroka	"She's been doing wonderfully. If you don't know what to do, why not watch over her? See her grow, learn, feel, experience all kinds of things, mold the City with your own hands so she can do even more." Ayin takes a short, sharp breath in, looking queasy. There's something he seems to grapple with for a while, struggling on the verge of speech, then drops his head. "That sort of thing... isn't even worth a fraction of Carmen. That doesn't right the scales or make any of this worth it. The entire population of the City can't measure up to what I've lost unless I take Carmen at her word. That sort of thing... an empty copy... that's worth less than none. She won't... Angela won't...." "If you can't overlook it in her place, then what are you fucking good for?" Ayin tenses at Lilian's shouting, as if he's steeling himself to shout back. His fists tighten and rip right through the arms of his melting throne, running like gold-green off his limp fingertips. He slowly raises his head back up, watching the Cityscape be swirled away by gore and distortion outside the window with bloodshot eyes. After a few seconds, he lets out a dryly amused exhalation through his nose. "Well, now. That's the closest any of you have made to making sense." By which he means 'sounding like Carmen'. Something about the process Flamel is doing to him, the gory Psychonauts violence of chipping away at his identity until he's unstably more influenced by Carmen, makes him sound vaguely like Petra in an abstract way to anyone paying close enough attention. "You're the paint-by-numbers man that every bright student thinks he's going to be." "You don't have a dream of your own, Mr. Ayin. You have Ms. Carmen's dream, or else the City's dream." Ayin picks up his wine glass, now filled with sickly green, and dimly inspects his reflection in it. "... Is that so. The greatest man in the City... is still of the City. Was Carmen also of the City, or not? If she was, then surely it's not an unforgivable sin for me; if she wasn't, then what good have any of them ever done?" He slowly tips his glass over and pours the enkephalin onto the floor. It melts right through, exposing not a lower floor of the office building, but the endless nothing of the transition-spaces in Ayin's mindscape. "... I suppose it doesn't matter either way. The fire that Prometheus brought man changes them whether she was a woman or a god." "But if you aren't, then you were the problem all along. The tumour that ruined everything. A cancerous fucking polyp of the City that sucked out Carmen's soul, drove her to despair, and then devoured everything she ever cared about, as if she never lived at all. And they didn't even need the Arbiter to do it." The hoarse exhalation that escapes from Ayin's lips is like Lilian punched him in the chest. He tries to readjust his suit from where the collar and cuffs got disheveled from his shouting and sweating, but it never quite goes back to the way it was. While tugging at his cufflink, Ayin murmurs to himself, "Do I mean it, or am I venting...? It's so hard to remember anymore. It's been so hard to do anything, for so, so long. If one would mean abandoning her, and the other would mean forging on... then I have no choice."
Petra Soroka	It's a dull, mumbling end to this segment of the mindscape. The room decoheres along with the emotional state of this Ayin, the view beyond the window streaking as if the penthouse is plummeting a hundred stories down from its perch. When it hits the 'ground', the room shatters again, and you all keep falling down into the void, just as before. Then, back into the concert hall. The deep, resounding rumble of the organ greets you on your return, transitioned to a dirge so loud that it forces nausea into your chest and makes your mouth taste like blood. The supporting orchestra, the Sephirot, are all back in their chairs, but their concert outfits are drenched in blood, splattering across the stage with each swipe of their bows. The clockwork Carmen is re-wound with enough energy to keep conducting, pieced together with haphazard 'Carmen-like' additions, with gears from T-Corp filling broken gaps, and cloned meat from R-Corp fashioned into a vibrant red scrunchie for her ponytail, dripping with ichor. The rest of the grand concert hall is degrading too. The engravings and tiers of seating smear like the penthouse, like the office before, with enkephalin dribbling down the stairs and horizontal gashes leaking blood ripped into the upholstery. Ayin's grand organ has pipes that yellow like bone now, and its sound is mournfully suffocating, though the man himself at the bench is just as he was before the penthouse. Immaculately put-together, arrogant and beautiful, if pounding at the keys of the organ more desperately than before, as if he's trying to cram as much music into this brief revitalization of the Carmen conductor as possible. "You're dead, Ayin. Reduced to memories of a man. Carmen is just . . . " He continues a very specific conversational thread from before, as if no time passed. Ayin shouts to be heard over the organ, a raw edge to his voice, panting with each breath. "She's dead! I know she's dead! I saw it, I held her!" His playing reaches a fever pitch, deafening but somehow leaving his voice audible, accompanied by the vague hysteria entering it. "All this talk of sacrifices and their worth, and our grand, beautiful goal! How can I take it seriously?! In the end, it wasn't worth consideration how much I sacrificed! I lost the world when I lost her!" <Have Let Me Stay By Her Side> "If she loved me, she would <Let Me Follow Into Endless Oblivion>!" <Be The Second Coming To This Sinful World>
Angela	The sad truth is, Angela has far different priorities than Sarracenia. Slaughter is something she does when she cant lie on the beach and feel the sun on her skin, not the other way around. In her mind, you don't have to care about being correct or putting people in their place if you can do whatever you want. Flamel speaks of Carmen as a person and it's Lisa who understands Carmen as a person most of all. She thinks of her killing her brother. She thinks of when she wandered the facility like a broken shell of her former self. She remembers hearing about what happened in the bathtub. ''I can see why Benjamin would be taken with someone like you.'' "You've quite the sly tongue, Woz." Benjamin says. He gives a small nod to Sougo, only hesitating a little at 'Carmen's nightmare' but ultimately agrees, "It cannot be for simply the same old resolution, Ayin." From one wheel to another wheel, Benjamin thinks. All he can do is hope. Have faith. ''Because it's not what she'd want you to do. Because it's not what you really want to do either.'' "When you do things you don't really want to do because it seems easier, you don't just hurt the people you love, you hurt yourself too." Michelle adds to support Hibiki. ''You'll just end up hurting the people you really wanted to be good to you, just like...'' "I see you've grown, Kukuru." Yesod's lip quirks up ever so slightly. "Glad you weren't scared off." Rita asks if it's true if it was millions. Kali, at least, isn't the sort of person to hem and haw over it. "I wasn't around for it being dead and all, but yeah sounds about right. The population of the City is around 7 billion and Wing Wars--I've never been in one, but when Wings are put in a position to go to war with one another, tons of people bite it. If you're lucky, a Wing quietly collapses--even Wings don't enter Wing Wars casually and sometimes one gets careless and is destroyed before they can mount a defense--but if you're unlucky you get a Smoke War. And nobody holds back in a Smoke War. If it was just Lobotomy Corp vs. Laryngos Corp it would've been over quickly, but G Corp threw their full weight behind Laryngos Corp--they ended up falling too and they weren't even our target." She gives a nod of assurance to Lilian to let her know she's fine. She's been shaking off the rust ever since her loss to the Dame Commander and she's got a handle on her own feelings now. There are other people left for her to protect and, well, if this doesn't work out... It's not like she can fault Lilian for throwing Ayin out of a penthouse. ''Made guinea pigs by the Wings'' Kali and Lisa glance at each other quickly before back to Ayin and Lilian, each a bit awkward for different reasons.
Angela	''It's been ten years!'' "That's right it's been ten years--But we're so close to the end, we are going to get to rest, really ''rest'', Ayin... We did our part..." Elijah pleads. ''But your heart was just as broken...'' Michelle nods numbly, sniffling a bit, she never expected to be so seen by Ayin when Carmen was the one who saw her so keenly but...it makes her a little happy, even in a circumstance such as this. "But if we complete the project... It isn't one good deed. It'll be hundreds. Thousands. Billions. It won't save the City on its own, but ... it'll help. We don't have to see the trees grow to know we grew a forest." ''Don't speak to me about her!'' Benjamin startles. He knew Ayin had complicated feelings about Angela, he even knew that some of that was prejudice, but to hear it spoken through rage... This is what he was not allowing himself to see, he realizes. "A failed project...? ... But in the end she succeeded in getting us this far. We opened the portal, but she is the one who asked for help. Yes, just another sacrifice.. But she can't live her whole life in a cage." ''All the mindless rats'' Kali looks to Rita for a moment and... Giovanni speaks up first, "I mean, yeah but Carmen still managed to love them. We're all dumb idiots in the end." "My," Binah says with a wry smile. "You might have made a splendid Arbiter as well. Or perhaps you would've preferred to be A Claw, tearing them apart with your hands rather than your mind." ''She's dead. Benjamin's dead.'' "...No. For the first time in over a decade... I feel alive." Benjamin says. "Perhaps you were the worst one, my love, but we all wish we could live in better times. I am sorry for running and leaving you to carry the weight alone. Blame me for that, not the City, not Angela." Is it venting, Benjamin wonders. He wishes it was. But that's just excuses again and the world returns to the orchestra.
Angela	The Sephirah are immediately awake this time, more prepared for the shift this time than before. Elijah has torn out her fingernails and has blood splattered under her eyes, around her nose and ears. Giovanni has blood splattered across his chest, throat, and under his mouth. Gabriel has blood splattered all across his arms in a thick mess. Michelle's head is tilted at an unpleasant angle. Kali is practically drenched in blood. Her arm is drenched down from the shoulder down, she has small splatters all over her, one of her eyes has a thick splatter on it and she has another thick deluge around her chest. Lisa is also nearly drenched, all over, like she was torn apart by wild animals. Daniel has a single splotch across his heart. Garion has a single thick deluge around her chest as if punched through by a sword, and Benjamin has tiny red dots all across his body. ''I lost the world when I lost her!'' And Lisa, in a cold voice, knows exactly what to say. "...Stop saying that it shouldn't have been her. You all tried everything to ensure that it shouldn't have been her. From the very beginning, all along, there was only one option and trying anyone else only killed more people for no reason and you know that." Lisa raises her head. "...It should have been her." And then she turns her head towards the Carmen conductor and can't entirely obscure the discomfort in her voice. "It should have been you."
UFO Gang	Way too much for way too long, Kukuru says. Shou glances at her, and speaks quietly, "Such things may stir our compassion. I know it all too well." She thinks for a moment in silence, her eyes turning from Ayin and the penthouse, or even the others, to rest on the Pagoda in her hand. But it is brief. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. Flamel speaks of more things in the strange little ear-clip she has, instead of aloud with his mouth flaps right here and now. Shou can understand both parts of this. The rest is complicated. Ayin does speak, and her eyes open for a moment at Ayin's protest. But, she tells herself, ten years are a large slice of a human life. And just how many times have they gone in that cycle? Wheels within wheels. He speaks ill of Angela. He speaks ill of the people who he might lord over. Shou watches him storm and stomp, enacting those feelings. When Ayin looks at her she simply returns the look, her face remaining calm. 'And still it somehow produced Carmen! and Benjamin!' "Indeed," Shou murmurs. Her head tilts a degree or two to the side. He cannot image what Carmen would say if she heard him standing in a penthouse. Shou feels a pang. To reach out to this man. To minister -- and even so. Expedient means, she tells herself, hoping Bishamonten will forgive such a moment. He may not have long; and Flamel promises a liberation from at least some of this burden before the end of his life. (That's what Shou got out of this. Shou is originally a manifestation of collective legend-induced fear about tigers. There is a certain analogy to a bear riding a bicycle.) But there is relief - when it seems that the cloud passes. Shou frowns slightly, though. Is that bad? The strategy! The strategy they are all following. Her brow furrows for a moment -- and then the world changes. They streak downwards. Flight without the brush of the winds. The clockwork-woman is there. Shou leans over to Kukuru. "That is good...?" she speaks quietly to her, before the music begins to accelerate. The enkephalin, the 'green stuff' Nazrin spoke so terrified of. And then he speaks the fruit of his heart. If she loved me, she would have let me stay by her side. If she loved me, she would let me follow into endless oblivion. If she loved me, she would be the second coming to this sinful world. (That last one is a puzzler but she gets it, Shou is pretty sure.) The Sephirah, at least, speak up. Praise be to the bodhisattvas, Shou thinks further with a breath of mild relief. Until Lisa speaks coldly. Shou's eyes turn towards Flamel (hopefully he has not disappeared) because he is, in the eyes of this youkai, the one calling these plays.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel is looking worse for the wear here. Something about bad psychonautry is messing with his head. But he's keeping an optimistic face on. As always: Stay positive. Stay friendly. "It was awful. Look, I know a lot of people are going to tell you that you didn't deserve to have what you sacrificed in the first place. But i don't really think about that kind of thing at all. It still hurts to set aside. It's my profession and my passion to care about this kind of loss!" Flamel's beaming smile is cracked under the strain of this bad psychonautry, but it's important to push him through this, to force him over the finish line even if the tactics are unhealthy. Like indulging a bad belief. "They're going to put you in history books. Not as 'the man who ran the city for a lifetime or two', you're going to be 'the man who changed the world'. Isn't there some acknowledgment in that? Some recognition of the struggle? Just like the way you recognize it in Carmen, after all this. You see what she lost even this long after her death, don't you? Would you expect that nobody will think of you too?" Engaging with this awful mindset runs the risk of something more self-destruction-focused, though... He knows he's playing with fire, but it's gotta be a risk that's accepted given the intent to burn it all down soon. "It won't feel right. You know? It won't feel like it's enough. But it's what we get. It's all we have the chance to have at all."
Rita Ma	"Mmmm." Rita inclines her head slightly towards Kali, holding out her hand for the fixer to take. "Thank you, Ms. Gebura. I see." That helps her understand Arachne and the others a little better. But that isn't what she's saying 'I see' about. The City looks so small from the penthouse windows. In Ayin's imagination, are there even any people down there? Either way, Rita can't see them. She takes an absentminded bite of the meat bar, passing the apple off to Kali, and rewards Kukuru with a little tired-smiling wink. ---- Rita lands back in the concert hall. Her little startled breath as she straightens up before she re-fits her mask is enough to snap her eyes to Kali. Her pupils constrict. Kali can see her swallow. Lobotomy Corporation is awful. Still, she steps closer to the wounded Sefirah, applying that glowy healing touch to Kali just like she did at the incident before. (After all, she needs it most. No favoritism, surely.) "There you go, Ms. Gebura. And..." When she first came to the Multiverse, there was a kind of callousness about Rita. Back when she hated herself more it was easier to hate other people. There's still a tiny permanent wince in her soul from when she more or less told Xion to die. It flowed so smoothly from her tongue, too. But it's still there if she digs deep enough. For the man who would be king, the man with so much blood on him but so few cuts, she can reach it. Rather than yell to be heard over the organ's blare, Rita walks over and crouches down right next to him at the bench. "If you've really lost your world... if there's no more hope for joy in your life..." "Then do your duty for the project, Mr. Ayin, and then die. That's great news for you, isn't it? Or if living isn't a burden, I don't want to hear about sacrifices from someone who's still alive."
Sarracenia	'It's been ten years!' "You did not give up on her, perhaps! But, you gave up on the City and the project!" Sarra exclaims. "You admitted you care nothing for the people of the City! It is quite tragic that gave up on staying true to Carmen's ideals when she died. If you believe in her as much as you claim, then it should be more of a wonder to think things would not work as she said!" 'She isn't even a consideration! She's a failed project, a tool to manage the Sephirot! One more sacrifice on the pyre of millions! To what baffling, absurd, perspective, does her opinion matter?! She exists to complete Carmen's dream, for the benefit of the worthless masses of this godforsaken City! If I've already failed them, then what point is there in going along this doomed path any further?!' "She is a PERSON!! Made from Carmen! She is not a mere tool! She is if anything your child with Carmen!!" Sarra practically screams, despite everything between her and Angela. "Do you treat her like this because she is not Carmen despite all of Carmen's influence on her?! If you were not so pig-headed you would have tried to build a relationship with her! My own father does not approve of most anything I do, but he still treats me like his daughter! And do not even TRY saying something like 'she is an AI'! The circumstances of one's birth do not decide one's personhood! But, instead of trying to help her you just gave up on her, too!" 'And still, somehow, it produced Carmen! And Benjamin! For them is why I care, why I bother to spare even an ounce of consideration for those animals! And you would still scoff and sneer and demand I be a saint?!' "Yes, it produced them! And think of how many Carmens or Benjamins may have been lost because you wanted to take the easy way instead of the right way! You do not have to be a saint! Just do not be a monster!!" Sarra shouts, then mmphs at looks at Rita. "No offense to you, Miss Rita." The room shatters again. Sarra falls much more gracefully this time thanks to the raccoon ears and tail she still has. The sight of the clockwork Carmen is a bit more unnerving this time, especially with that meat scrunchie. 'If she loved me, she would <Have Let Me Stay By Her Side><Let Me Follow Into Endless Oblivion><Be The Second Coming To This Sinful World>! "And if you loved her, you would have held steadfast and stalwart to her ideals as you pursued her dream." Sarra says, arms crossed, nose slightly upturned, and glare focused on Ayin. "Of course, you can easily still help that dream come true if you simply...do not get in our way and let us complete the Seed of Light." she adds. Rita actually tells someone to die. Sarra is so caught off guard that her glare turns to a look of surprised as she glances toward Rita. She is not sure she agrees with anything Rita just said, but she does not disagree enough to audibly disagree at the moment.
Timespace Riders	If I've already failed them, then what point is there in going along this doomed path any further?! Sougo stands up from his seat much more calmly than Ayin slammed the table; the uneven ground caused by the distortion is managed without his eyes leaving Ayin's face. "There are lots of Carmens and Benjamins out in the City. Once upon a time, you decided to help with the Seed of Light because you thought more of them should get the chance to live, right? That if the City were kinder, then it'd be kinder to them. And they could put more of themselves into the world." But she can't live her whole life in a cage. Sougo nods. "You were lucky enough to meet someone--two someones," he says, with a sad smile Benjamin's way"--who were kinder than their surroundings." He shakes his head. "Or, really, in spite of their surroundings." "Carmen is gone, yes. But, Ayin... part of what made her so special was that she was the antithesis of the City. The way you talk about Angela is the same way the worst parts of the City talk about whoever has less than them. You know that isn't right. And you know that it takes a lot less than sainthood to choose to put something beautiful into the world--even if it's flawed." If one would mean abandoning her, and the other would mean forging on... then I have no choice. "The Seed is not the Tree." Back into the concert hall, from the board room. Sougo and Woz are driven almost to their knees by the sickening, overpowering dirge. If she loved me, she would-- "SHUT UP!" shouts Sougo, rising shakily to his feet. "You care more about someone who's dead than all the people who are alive and helping you!" He angrily sweeps an arm out, gesturing to the Sephira--and to the blood which splatters them. "Look how hard they worked to be better versions of themselves, for you, and look at what you're doing to them right now! These people have cried for you, suffered for you, bled for you, thousands and thousands of times at this point," Sougo shouts to be heard over the music, his voice unsteady and on the verge of stinging, frustrated tears. "One of them even loves you." It should have been you. "If you can't look at them, then look at what the memory of her has become, to you! Would Carmen--the real Carmen, not the one you made up in your head--be smiling like that, hearing you say that you should have died with her?!"
Kukuru	"I see you've grown, Kukuru." "I've had a lot of time to learn from everyone." Kukuru admits with a light chuckle, gesturing broadly around herself. "Especially from all of you in here. Besiiides. I couldn't call myself someone that really cares about anyone if I let myself get scared off by... Um. By..." She stares at Yesod blankly after a moment, like she's hoping he'll finish that thought for her. She clearly isn't having it herself. "It would be more of a wonder if everything worked just as she said." "Would it? Carmen sounded real smart from what everyone else has said, and aaaall the stuff I've seen about her." Kukuru covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she suppresses a quiet yawn, really settling into that couch despite the tense words being exchanged between Ayin and everyone there. "Unless you're smarter than her... Ah, but you'll need to push on to see if it does or not, right? If you give up now and just become some Head pawn, then you reeeeally wouldn't see anything at all. All those years, just to not see where Carmen's big project goes sounds like a big waste." ". . . I'll quit the Paladins and throw you out that penthouse window myself." "Oh. That'd be... A shame." Kukuru's tone loses all affect briefly, and she goes quiet to just watch Ayin for a few moments. A little while after that, however, she recalls- 'I will not risk the project for short term satisfaction I am not likely to get.' "The entire population of the City can't measure up to what I've lost unless I take Carmen at her word." -Angela's words from earlier today, then sighs softly and continues while sounding disappointed. "I thought you believed in Carmen more than that. For someone that says he thinks the world of her, you sure don't sound like it with aaaall this giving up talk." She rests her cheek against her palm, partially to prop her head up and partially to show Ayin a somewhat pensive look. "Nobody's asking you to be perfect, dear. You just gotta be good enough to see Carmen's life work through to the end, and to see where everyone' sacrifices end up." Ayin's mumbling soon leads to the room falling, and Kukuru stays curled up in that semi-ball the whole time. She keeps her eyes shut until the sound of the organ hits her again, too, and her teeth grind together at the ear-splitting dirge contending with the nanites in her chest to control that blood-curdling feeling inside of her. It's only when that noise finally stops that she finally reopens her eyes to observe the degrading concert hall. The draining enkephalin gets Kukuru to look around briefly to see where it's all flowing, too, but her attention snaps back to Ayin again once he starts to show his despair again. "If she loved me, she would <Let Me Follow Into Endless Oblivion>!" "What? That's not love, dear. That's..." Kukuru furrows her brow as she joins Rita in tending to the wounded, spreading those nanites from her body at a languid pace to seek out open wounds, bleeding areas, all to try and get them closed right back up. That's just being... Wait, that's just giving up again. Or..." Ayin's role is to die for the sake of this project, isn't it? That's what's been said several times before, but it's taken Kukuru this long to connect one more dot to come to a different understanding altogether. "You're afraid, aren't you? All that stuff about loving Carmen, about everyone's sacrifices for her dream... Are you really thinking about any of that? Or..." Kukuru gets up finally, approaching Ayin with an empty gaze. "Are you just saying that to hide being afraid of what's gonna happen when the Seed finishes? If everything's going the same way in the end, then you might as well see where it's all going instead of just sticking your head into the ground and waiting. Any kind of brilliant scientist or... Someone that loves one knows something that simple."
Hibiki Tachibana	How, how am I supposed to follow in her footsteps perfectly when she was the only reason I believed any of them were worth it?! "...You can't. It's impossible to do it alone. It's too much weight for anybody to carry all by themselves." Hibiki's morose-sounding reply sounds like she's actually agreeing with Ayin. Can it not be good enough to carry her torch to somewhere I can manage? I was the worst possible one to be left with this burden. If she'd survived... anyone else... anyone else... As if Ayin's shifting mindscape and the blur of reality and unreality around them doesn't actually matter at all, her eyes stay set on that same empty patch of table - although the slight tightening of her expression shows he's not ignorant to his pleading look, either. "It's a burden you weren't ready for. A burden you couldn't handle. A burden you didn't ask to have to bear, for people who don't deserve it, people you hate, that made you into a monster. 'Why did it have to be me, of all people... it would've been better if I was the one who died there instead...'" Her tone is low. "...But..." Hibiki trails off silently, almost uncharacteristically contemplatively, as he speaks on Angela in particular. Not a consideration. A failed project. A tool. An empty copy. It's a terrible way to talk about anybody. Especially somebody you brought into this world yourself. She almost hates that she understands where that feeling that everyone rightfully gets on him for comes from. It's not her. "...You're not as completely alone on it as you think you are, Ayin," is what Hibiki listlessly murmurs as the universe shifts back to an even more morbid recreation of the concert hall. The Sephirah are still there. Benjamin, is still there. There's a world where Angela could have been there. If he made different decisions. But it's not her. She doesn't seem to mind the sickening atmosphere, or the awful dirge echoing off the walls and through their bodies; it's more or less just being surrounded by more of the same pit-like feeling in her chest that she's drawing from already. It's not exactly healthy for her to do. Taking the stage once more, she slowly steps all the way across it, just to sit down on the floor nearby his seat and draw her legs up. Arms come looping around them, though her eyes are off into the ruined rows of seating that make up the audience. Her voice, quiet as it is, also somehow makes it over the din. She's not among the list of people shouting at the top of their lungs, for once in her life. I lost the world when I lost her! "I know you did," and she sounds like she really does. "...I'm sure she knew. How much she meant to you. And I think you meant a lot to her, too." "If you didn't... she wouldn't have left that dream, that her heart was too broken to keep trying to reach, to you." The 'worst possible one'.