Scene #939: Colonial Book Club

Owner	Pose
Lou	We'll just call it a week. That's how long it had been since a random question, about the nature of Faruja's notion of espers, over the radio had led to the current arrangements. Attending to a meeting at the Guardians Colony is simple enough for those already versed in the travel of the Multiverse; a collection of three worlds co-orbiting their common Sun, out in the darkness of its space regions. At the edge, incoming traffic merges with the locals', and the native PPT shuttles handle the rest. They definitely make a show of things, as well - the space lanes illuminated by the muted glow of rings, and the destination seeming to be a large structure floating above the diffuse blue atmosphere of the gray and green of Parum. Of course, Lou had already made all the necessary arrangements for his arrival, and transmitted instructions in a level of detail that might rival one of his clergy treatises. One such as her does not make assumptions. All the required documents and clearances had also been delivered ahead of time. With the assumptions made that it would be a smooth visit, she stands now outside the shuttle arrival area, a clean and fluorescent-lit space where civilians and military alike come and go, or await their connecting flights to one of the planets. It is simultaneously busy and barren, with most too concerned about their own affairs to pay mind to others. However, a few of the children that don't know any better might give a few stares. They're used enough to outsiders, but there are still some things you don't see everyday! This relative isolation, as well as her bubblegum pink hair, makes her easy to pick out upon arrival as well. Hopefully.
Faruja	Even by now, Faruja Senra does /not/ like space, nor space travel. There's something about it that just sets him on edge, and by the time he's planet side? The rat-mage steps off of his transport and kisses the ground while muttering praises to God. It might be a sight for those who see it. Strange, strange offworlder, this one. Curious looks from children don't seem to bother the betailed Inquisitor. He offers smiles and the occasional wave to the more curious, even blessing a passing child before heading to the space-plane down planetside. Between how his leg's acting up, and his stopping to be a good priest, he might take a bit. Luckily, he's built in some time to the meeting. He'd be a poor mage to be late, after all. The paperwork was handled with practiced dilligence, and soon enough, his connecting shuttle arrives and Faruja steps out. Leaning on his cane, and smoothing his silk red robes, he limps over to Lou. "May ye ever walk in the Light of the Lord, my Child!" Greets the Inquisitor with a smile and a deep bow, followed by the traditional crossing of the chest. "Greetings and Blessings upon ye, Director Lou. I pray I hath not inconvenienced ye overmuch for meeting me here? This bloody thing was jostled during an operation." He lightly taps his weak leg, and even /that/ has him wincing. Note: don't do that. Then, the one-eyed rat takes the opportunity to look Lou over fully. He gazes at that pink here just a /touch/ longer than the rest. New on him.
Lou	The one truly universal thing, paperwork. The locals, or at least the Guardians, have long since adapted to unification, so at least documents are offered in several, common written languages and scripts. The space part..that obviously still needs some work. Faruja can also be excused for mistaking this as being back planetside, as the artificial gravity is convincing enough, and the Colony's spaces are vast and voluminous. Truly, if one didn't know better, it would seem to simply be a surface city like any other, if quite structured and built up, with the night sky spangled above. As for the one playing hostess to the Inquisitor, she waits patiently for him to finish his impromptu, and thankfully brief, ministration, and then steps up to more properly make his acquaintance. Her expression might be difficult to read, given that it's effectively neutral, but her manners remain intact, as she gives a light bow at her waist, gloved hands clasped in front of her. "There is no inconvenience, Mister Faruja," she dismisses quickly, in that lightly reverbed tone. Raising back up to her full height, the concentric rings that form the irises of her eyes seem to adjust, bringing their newest visitor into focus. In particular, her vision pans to the indicated, meddlesome limb, "Do you require further treatment? We have medical facilities here, should you need them." Of course, given how the space travel went, maybe he'd rather opt for more..traditional care. Regardless, it does not seem to have greatly inconvenienced him on his travels here, so she will move on. -- and if she notices his seeming curiosity on her hair tone, she makes no outward note of it. "Welcome to the Guardians Colony," as she more properly introduces it, glancing out over and beyond into the city itself. "This is known as Clyez City. It is the primary and only settlement upon it. With full disclosure, I brought you here not only because I cannot leave it, but they are accepting of outside visitors." This particular structure seems to be a tiered, ramp-like mall, flanked by elevators. And there seem to be plenty of civilians enjoying shopping and other conveniences in the rungs below, judging by their bags of swag and food items. Glancing to the only ramp that, from here, leads up, she indicates, "This is the Headquarters of our organization. My apologies, but I cannot take you on a tour today. With the President's permission, perhaps at a future time." After that brief presentation, she gives another, lighter bow, and then gestures downward, "Nonetheless, you must be eager to rest from your trip. Let us make our way down to the recreational areas." Thankfully the ramps are just ramps. Despite the glowing lights, no techno wizardry involved.
Faruja	It's probably for the best that Faruja /doesn't/ realize he's not on an actual planet. Njorun's bad enough. Here? He'd probably be scrambling for that transport with every diplomatic excuse he could come up with. Medieval ChurchMouse doesn't like tech, at all! Mental note: Director Lou has one /heck/ of a poker face. The Inquisitor continues to play 'friendly priest', even if his tail lashes a bit at the offer of medical care. There's this subtle twitch to his features as he glances at the more 'uncanny valley' bits of Lou's anatomy, and imagines medical care from these beings. He somehow manages to /not/ go white in the ears. "Quite alright, 'tis an ongoing condition. I hath an appointment with Union Medical after our meeting concludes, at any rate. Thine concern is greatly appreciated, Lady Director." Another deep bow. Formal, this rodent! The rat turns to the city at large, and finds himself smiling. It's warm as he notes so much /life/. "'Tis beautiful. If not...exactly like home. Far too dry." A shrug. "A Colony? Forgive me, not in the 'outside government setting up a city in foreign lands' colony?" He inquires. Ears wiggle lightly in thought. "Ahh. Other planets art less...accepting of oursiders? And may I ask why ye cannot leave? Duty?" The Inquisitor certainly lives up to his title! Then, a small chuckle, and he's offering Lou his arm. "Forgive me, I forget mine manners. Shall we?" Seems he's looking to escort the director properly! A small nod. "I understand. I shall hath mine office contact the good President's, and arrange for official visits as 'tis convenient. Yes, please, I wouldst like to get off of mine feet." A smile here, and he'll let the CAST lead. After a moment, he ponders the ramp, and then incants. Soon, he's floating about half an inch off of the ground. Should make things slightly easier on his leg!
Lou	There is one thing Lou had noticed, during her time among the Union. It is that, for the most part, they seem to prefer informal natures between one another. It is with that consideration that she offers, on her way to escort her Guest down the ramps to a more relaxing atmosphere, "You may call me Lou, Mister Faruja, if you wish," with a subtle non-commitment. She further recalls, blue-green eyes seeming to study his reactions in detail, or perhaps a more accurate phrase would be record; "Few other Guardians refer to me by that title. It is merely a formality, in order to efficiently complete my duties." She certainly seldom gives others orders, even if it's not unheard of. At first, when the arm is offered, she openly stares at it. She's still lacking for social graces, in many respects, despite her rudimentary instruction. Adding two and two together, so to speak, with his sore leg, she figures Faruja might be requesting extra support, rather than the other way around. Accordingly, with surprising strength, she not only accepts the arm, but alleviates a good amount of his burden, as she begins to step. Bonus? Her pace is brisk, dare one say mechanical, but not impossible for a humanoid of the Burmecian persuasion to keep up with. She nonetheless has time for Faruja's many questions as they travel, and never seems to grow frustrated or harried with them. In that respect, perhaps he could grow to like technology. "The Colony was created with permission and cooperation from all of Gurhal's governments," she explains, with her even tone allowing neither pride nor prejudice to enter that simple fact. "It is not only our headquarters, but also a neutral ground for all of this star system's people." Though she may appear to be staring straight forward, most of the time, the facing ear...pod is nonetheless trained to her companion for the evening. As the ramp makes way to another, even broader concourse, she adjusts her pace steadily to the suddenly more even surface, steps lightly accented with muffled hydraulics. This spot is a bit more lively than the sterile confines of the PPT space port, but true to her word, few seem to pay such an interesting outsider much mind. Several tables and benches are set up, some with festive umbrellas despite precipitation being an impossibility in this area, and imported tropical plants to help further spruce up what would otherwise be mostly cold gunmetal-colored structures. "The planetary governments are not as trusting of those from outside the system," she remarks with her cold and cutting precision, further adding with what might be the slightest trace of a frown: "It is not surprising, with their latent suspicions of each other. Nonetheless, you will not encounter such concerns here on the colony, Mister Faruja." To his further questioning on that line, she takes a moment, as though to consider - or perhaps weigh factors in an algorithm. "I am not entirely at liberty to speak on the matter of my permanent residence. Duty would be a logical analog, however."
Lou	Thankfully, after the small talk and proposals of future arrangements, they arrive at one of those tables, where four seats have been arranged. Lou goes to pull one out for herself, more than accustomed to coming to these sorts of places alone, rather than with company. "Please have a seat, Mister Faruja. Also order any nutritional sustenance you may require - though I will warn it is often considered bland by outside visitors."
Faruja	"Mmm. It shan't be rude?" He inquires almost immediately. The rat knows well how some of his fellows prefer being informal. An image of Toph springs to mind immediately. A small lick of the muzzle. "Be that as it may, 'tis nay doubt one ye hath /earned/. A title, when earned fairly and without writ of mere blood..." There's a bitter smirk and chuckle here. "Is an honor, and aught be worn both with humility and yet gravity to hath earned one's station, nay matter how humble. However, I digress; this is an informal meeting, and therefore, I shall treat it as such. Lady Lou, 'tis." No, Lou, you're not escaping medieval titles. This is as formal as it gets when you're not Toph Beifong. There's a small, awkward pause at that stare. Surely she knows knightly duties and those of gentlemen! His brain kicks in. Right. Not Ivalice. Before he can offer embarrassing words, she gets the hint. Humility rears its beautiful face, and he accepts the lessened weight with a nod of thanks. And she didn't even point it out! Cue a brownie point in Lou's favor. He could learn a thing or two from her. "Forgive mine ignorance, what /is/ a Guardian? Some form of knight, or lawkeeper?" Luckily, the float spell and Lou's strength has the rat following along. Having a limp sometimes sucks, but thankfully he can cheat hard enough to keep pace. He surely enjoys her patience, and shoots a subtle, apologetic glance. Forgive the injured time mages, he'd rather not teleport into a wall here. Sensitive ears pick up those hydraulics, and he makes a note to ask his more tech-oriented Acolyte about such matters. "Mmm. A fertile ground for politics, then, and nay doubt groups of...dissenting opinions regarding local rulership." Neutrality breeds rebels, for good or ill, in his experience. Once they're at the far less sterile surroundings, the rat relaxes a touch. Plants! Even those gaudy little umbrellas. He can live with this. The Inquisitor finds a chair, and reflexively moves to pull one out for Lou, only she beats him to it. Too slow, rat. With a cough, he sits. "Of course. Mine thanks for thine, and thine superior's, hospitality." He orders whatever passes for beer, as well as some rice. A small nod. "Duty 'tis, then." He won't press on secrecy. He well knows how /that/ goes. "Paranoid governments? Some things never change. 'Tis Ordalia all over again. I shall keep this in mind shouldst I find mineself dealing with them. Kindly pass along a briefing upon the local powers to mine office, honored Lady?" Down to business, and his face goes slightly more neutral. He may well look like a college professor. "Right, ye hath questions correct? Regarding the nature of Espers. I shall give ye the essentials, first. An Esper is a spiritual entity, not unlike God's heavenly servants, the Angels. Espers art intermediary-spirits, otherwise referred to as God-Servants, between the heavenly and earthly realms of Ivalice. They reside in a realm between, known as the aptly-named Esperic Realm to we mortals. And nay, creativity is oft /not/ a trait amongst theologians." A small smirk here as he injects a bit of humor. "They can reside in certain areas, oft related to their element, whereupon Shrines to them art often erected. Furthermore, they can be drawn into the mortal realms by those possessing a unique spiritual trait. A...gate, or bridge residing within one's soul to the Esper Realm. These individuals art known as Summoners, and art extremely rare. Currently, there art thirty known Summoners in the world." Explains the rat.
Lou	Once her guest is seated, Lou also follows suit, resting her hands lightly on the edge of the table as she has a vaguely..remote look to her eyes, for a mere moment. It almost was as though she were not seeing through her own eyes for those seconds. Nonetheless, she never left here in body and mind, and she soon returns to normal, insofar as it seems to be for her. "There will always be unrest, but for the most part, the residents of Gurhal are wary of repeating the mistakes of the five-hundred year war." Five hundred!? That probably doesn't need further explaining of why bitterness and suspicion would remain, either. The local alcoholic beverage of choice would likely be a concoction made of fermented Koltova product known whimsically as 'Groovy Juice'. A civilian youth wearing 'normal-enough' clothes approaches to take the order, the only thing truly setting him apart from the average others milling around being the uniform apron worn around him. Mostly to be personable, or at least what her reference data on this topic suggests to do, she orders a less..processed Koltova juice, for herself, then dismisses the teen with a soft wave of a hand. Speaking of that conflict, it also allows her to transition into one of the Inquisitor's other..inquests. "According to my historical records, and official textbooks, the Guardians were founded as a neutral arbitration bureau and force, arising from newfound spirits of cooperation that resulted from that hard-won peace. As a seeming fellow administrator such as yourself can no doubt guess, the truth is not that simple. Nonetheless, the President and the great majority of the Guardians believe in their mission, and help all peoples of Gurhal equally." While her circumstances might be different on how she came to be a Guardian, she nonetheless has come to feel the same. It is certainly better than the alternative. Both drinks shortly arrive, and..while certainly, fruitier-tasting, than beer, this 'Groovy Juice' also has a smooth drinkability to it. And certainly a bit of a bite. It's likely most pleasing to a young adult's tastes. You know..just don't ask where it comes from. After a time, though, it was time to get down to the business of why she had invited Faruja to come in the first place, and it certainly wasn't just to help alleviate her own crushing loneliness. Loneliness processing is not active. She appears much more concerned with what he's talking about than some of his pupils might be, and certainly moreso than her drink, which arrived in a fancy glass that she's doing little more than holding, for the moment. It only makes sense for her to capture every detail, since this will be recorded in their database. "Similar phenomena have been recorded in Gurhal," she remarks, once she senses a pause where it would not be interrupting Professor Faruja. "I have no records of any sentient being able to consciously bring them into being, however. Were they truly that rare, it is no wonder they could have escaped documentation." "However, cross-referencing the topic, the Divine Maiden...," she trails off, somewhat uncharacteristically allowing her normally sharp mind to wander, before quickly dispelling such inefficiencies. "I apologize, please continue, Mister Faruja." Finally, she takes a sip from the glass. She has an actual digestive system somewhere in there, after all.
Faruja	Siiip. Fruity. It's not beer, but he'll take it. Arbiters, and a long-ago war that likely predates the Church's founding. Faruja visibly shudders at that. "Understandable." He mutters inconclusively. OH yes, he can definitely see the need for neutral parties and suspicion alike. He has a vague feeling that getting involved in this land's politics are as dangerous as his own. Sip. Faruja manages to find time to imbibe his drink despite all of his words. Old Ivalician trick. "Truly? 'Tis nay interruption. However, mayhaps ye art correct. I shall explain fully, then by all means, explain both this 'Maiden' and thine own world's Espers." A small sip, and then he continues. "The Espers art...varied, almost as much as mortals, in personality. A Summoner gains their respect through deed, or martial contest. After a ritual, they art able to construct a physical body out of their own mana for the spirit of the Esper to reside in upon the mortal realms. Due to this, all Summoners art magick-weavers by nature, and oft art talented in other areas. For instance, I am an accomplished Time Mage, if I may boast lightly." "'Tis a...I beleive the term ye wouldst be most familiar with is 'genetic'. 'Tis a trait passed down through families, if extremely erratically. We doth not know the origin of Summoners. A miracle of God, nay doubt." "Furthermore, there art dangers. A Summoner, shouldst they prove weak, can become corrupted. Their Espers growing violent. Cities hath been destroyed by those born with the talent, but without mental strength to control them. Thus, 'tis the Church's unfortunate duty to...ensure the safety of all by either capturing, or eliminating those whom prove dangerous." His gaze is solemn here. It's not something he enjoys, clearly.
Lou	It is definitely wise not to get involved in the inter-planet politics. Even Lou tries to avoid that quagmire, unless necessary..but she chooses not to dwell on it, instead again lifting her glass and passively listening, for a time. She does not experience concepts of comfort as strongly as others that don't have to dedicate so much 'processing power' to administrative tasks, but if she did, Faruja would not be found to be bad company. Perhaps it's a function of Lou's machine-like tendencies, but she does not appear to flinch at such a revelation. "At times, an unfortunate act is necessary to stop even worse things from happening. It is - logical," she notes, perhaps in her own way trying to reassure him, though it certainly does sound cold when put in those terms. With similarly chilled precision, she continues, setting her half-finished glass on the table top, "We have been dealing with compromised wildlife, as of late, here in the Gurhal system. While they are innocent animals, to contain the contagion, it is - necessary to purify them." Something about the tone of the latter makes clear that she's talking about killing them. A matter of numbers. This also gives her time to finish processing the bulk of what Faruja had just disclosed, her close links with the Guardians database allowing her to cross-reference each major point in turn as it appears. A good deal of it is completely novel to their knowledge base, but there is at least some common ground to be of merit, and perhaps to warrant further investigation. It is time to counter-inform, in brief, as she slides back to rest against her seat, though still upright and proper in posture. "As for your curiosity in the Divine Maiden, I can only provide what I have available from my database and recent reports. While I have no specific records of her acting as a Summoner, as you described, she nonetheless is particularly gifted in Technics, an art that I believe would be analogous to 'magic' in most of the multiverse. This also means her body contains atypical concentrations of Photons, and perhaps is the reason for another reported feature of hers: The gift of prophecy." She pauses for a moment there, perhaps considering, or weighing algorithms in her partially digital mind. Shaking her head, one of the first times Faruja would have seen her make a more human-like gesture, she concludes, "I cannot confirm the accuracy of these prophecies. The very idea seems incompatible with reality. However, the multiverse continues to force me to revise my predictive programs, daily." With a gesture of a hand over an inconspicuous ovoid on the table - which could easily have been mistaken for mere decoration - a holographic projection is conjured. It is of a young woman in elegant, flowing robes, and decorated with a tiara denoting her office. Her ears and general build resemble what most of the multiverse would consider an elf. Space elves. With that presented, the obvious best course of action, were one truly interested, would seem to be to visit wherever this so-called Divine Maiden is. Lou quickly dispels that, in her buzz-killing manner, "I would advise against approaching the Communion of Gurhal on this topic. They are protective and secretive of the Maiden, as she is their face to the rest of Gurhal. However, she makes public appearances frequently. Perhaps you could attend one, if you are interested in their superstitions."
Faruja	Both brows rise. "Hath ye any idea of the source? Rogue mages? Scientists? Some more natural corruption?" Comes the rat, concerned at the news. Such things are rarely good, and in his experience, often are the signs of a larger plot. Then again, he may just be paranoid. Here, Faruja chuckles weakly. "In mine professional opinion as an Inquisitor, there art two kinds of so-called 'Prophets': true miracle-workers blessed by Faram, whom predict well and true. And charlatans whom art either insane or art so very gifted in speech and poise that they convince we weak-minded mortals that they art of the Divine. This so-called 'Divine Maiden's skill in magery only makes her more suspect in mine view." Comes the rat, indeed full of naked paranoia and distrust. His tail lashes about. His head tilts, and he considers. "Well, of /course/ they art not compatible with our mundane view of the Multiverse, mine dear. They art called Prophecy for a bloody reason. These art not acts of logic. These art acts of /Faith/. Belief without proof. And /ye/, mine dear, strike me as a person whom holds logic to be all but Divine. I fear until ye manage to divorce true acts of Faith from simple, human logic? Ye shall ever be revising thine predictions. The two art inherently incompatible. Think upon the matter here..." He taps his chest about the heart. There's a slight frown at their protectiveness. He doesn't really blame them; it's not like any random person can just meet the High Confessor, of course. Then, there's a smirk. He peeks at the holographic image, burning it into his memory. "If ye wouldst be so kind, forward any and all information about the good Lady and her Faith's customs, as well as any other such useful information, please. I shall consider it a personal favor. I simply /must/ meet with this woman. And I need information to ensure such a thing happens." Comes the rat, wheels grinding in his head as he plots. Sometimes, all it takes it the right timing, information, and lots of magic to meet someone important. "Right! Nay doubt ye wish to see a more...practical example of what we speak of? Please, ask any questions ye may hath. For now...I introduce the Esper of Wind, Faery." Faruja slowly stands, wincing lightly, before kneeling and incanting quietly. Magic flares around him, the iconic balls of green and orange flowing from him. His mana crystalizes, and the form of a woman with butterfly wings forms, clad in a green dress. Roughly Faruja's size, she has elfin ears, and beautiful blue eyes. She blinks, and looks to her Summoner with a fond glance...then a long-suffering frown. The Esper pouts, floats down, and kneels herself before Faruja can take her hand. She concentrates, and green magic flows between her hands to Faruja's knee over his own quiet protests. They're stopped as she simply tweaks his ear, looking at him like a Mother to her foolish son. Then, she all but forces him to his seat on a gust of wind magic. Finally noticing Lou, Faery bows, and finds herself a chair. Warmth all but radiates off of her, as does a gentle wind that soothes wherever it touches. Faruja, now quite flushed in embarrassment, manages to somewhat recover his dignity. "...Remember that bit about 'wild and varying personalities'? Faery is one of the gentlest...if more stub.." Whap! he gets a bonk to the head. "...More upright of Espers." He ends lamely. The Esper silently giggles.
Lou	To one such as Lou, the very idea that she should divorce herself of scientific theory, even when it comes to inherently supernatural matters, is a sadly null argument to make. She, at least for now, quite literally cannot do so. The closest she has come is adding a certain and growing 'bullshit' constant to her predictions, particularly when dealing with the multiverse at large. "Your proposal has merit, Mister Faruja, but for me it is impossible," she states plainly and absolutely, concentric rings of her irises laser focused on her guest. "I have no such capacity for making decisions based on 'gut' or my 'heart', as I have often heard it phrased. Those processes are not active. You are correct, however, that my decisions are based on the hard data I have in hand." With all that said, however, she does make one small concession, that perhaps will leave the door ajar, if barely: "However, I will attempt to leave certain aspects of my algorithms open-ended, to account for such variances." See, she's perfectly flexible. All those Guardians saying she's a stick in the mud are clearly wrong. His other inquiry is met with much more openness, however, as she gives a consenting nod of her head. With another wave of her hand, she dispells the holographic image, since it seems he's had his eye's fill, and confirms, "I will forward what I have available, sir. While I doubt it will reveal any deeper mysteries, there is a large amount of historical records on the subject. The office of Divine Maiden has existed for some time, even before the current came into her office." She will leave the point that it isn't so easy to meet the Maiden, as personally as he seems to wish to, but..stranger things have happened. More of those spurious data points, no doubt. Just ask a young Guardian by the name of Ethan Waber about such chance encounters. With that end of business concluded, she returns to an earlier question, stating what little even she knows, at present - at least that is fit for public consumption: "Do not concern yourself of conspiracy, Mister Faruja. Chances that it is the work of an intelligent, rogue element are currently less than three percent. The SEED, as it is known, appears to be a parasitic alien infection. Unfortunately, while it is known it came from deep space, its other details are still undergoing research. Leave it to us, for now." Fetching her glass, she raises it, perhaps to collect her own thoughts and sort them out with the other new information she now has available. Also, maybe, to clear it for another of those events the Inquisitor had spoken of moments before, as he promises a working example of Summoning. She makes a brief movement, as though to stand and help steady the seemingly slightly pained Faruja, but it only lasts the moment. After, she retakes her seat more firmly, and watches calmly but intently, with the razor straight expression of the analytical. Speaking of, this is another of those inwardly distressing moments where the data her sensors collect do not completely agree with what her squishier bits experience, but she does not carry on about it. Instead, she seems passively intrigued, but polite. This is not quite Photonic energy, but it is likely a close cousin. The multiverse works in those kinds of ways. "I see," she says, as preference to only 50-50 internal agreement on the matter. With a lowering of her head, she greets the newcomer, assuming based on her interactions she is as sentient as either of them, "Welcome, Miss Faery. I hope the Gurhal System's environment is accomodating to you. I am called Lou." She also takes a glance at Faruja's leg, that had been touched, and makes what seems a logical guess based on the 'restorative properties' she senses in the immediate vicinity. "A regenerative ability?"
Faruja	Faruja looks askance at Lou, howevermuch it might be rude. The impossibility of diverging logic from faith is something that simply doesn't compute with such a fiercely passionate heart as the rat's. It helps that computers don't exist in his world, much less those imbued with them. "...Ye art speaking naught but the Lord's own truth?" Inquires the rat rhetorically. Peeeer! Sigh. "I swear. This bloody Multiverse shall be the death of me! Of /course/ ye art being truthful. Oh Lord, grant me strength!" There's a deep sigh. "Well. Methinks ye and I shall simply must accept once another for being different. Agree?" He offers diplomatically. "In mine line of work, information of any sort is a most useful commodity. Anything ye can provide." Grin! It's that car-salesman grin, or perhaps overly-pleased politician. He'll take what he can get. Scowl! "Ye know, I believe I hath heard such words about conspiracy before...oh, right, 'twas out of mine own mouth. 'Ser Sebastian wouldst never betray me. Rebel or nay, he wouldst never side with the bloody Archadians. Less than two percent chance.' What next? Dagger between mine shoulders, quite literally, within a week. There's always a bloody conspiracy. Ye may not be looking at the proper angle, yet." Faery just waves. Seems they're not ones to talk! At least, to non-Summoners. Faruja answers. "Healing. Mmm...speeding of natural regrowth. I hath never observed proper regeneration. Mayhaps Lady Phoenix is...mmm. Results upon that later. Still working on acquiring Phoenix. We Summoners art a rare and secretive bunch." Hand-wave. "Anything else, mine dear?"