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Timekeeper	The Walden is lively every night, but on this early November evening, it's especially so. The limousines and chauffeuring weren't just for a first impression, but an assumption of how Forget Me Not believes Partners should be treated from a baseline, and as the shiny black cars roll to a stop in front of the bar, the light spilling out of its windows is a different hue than usual. Rather than the strained yellow glow of early electric bulbs, the Walden is lit by wavering orange firelight, and opening up the door is a welcome burst of toasty heat compared to the frigid outdoors.     There is, constructed right on top of the stage in the bar, a roaring bonfire, logs stacked up nearly level with the second floor balcony. It hisses and pops, but the sparks fizzle out at the edge of an array drawn around it, and the green-tinted smoke filters through the bar like a harmless fog machine, lightly scented like incense but not choking like usual smoke. It lends an illictly-spooky air to the entire party, making it difficult to see details across the floor, turning the ocean of conversation into an indistinguishable mass of voices, cheers, and clinking glasses.     There's typical Halloween decorations scattered around, and people downing orange and black cocktails. Pumpkins lit by candles are tucked in every corner, often cradled by flowers and vines as if they're going to be overtaken by them, and cloth ghosts hang from the ceiling. Unaffected by the holiday spirit, the flowing sand stock ticker behind the bar still commands the most attention with drunken crowds clustered at the bar to shout and wave papers in the frenzied stream of commerce.     Unlike usual, a woman in a draconic Manus Vindictae mask and a long black dress sits on a stool beside the bonfire. A deck of cards sits beside her, engulfed by the flames of the fire but not burning, and people from the crowd hurl money-- absurd amounts sometimes, or stock certificates-- into the fire, prompting her to calmly reach into the fire to draw a card and show it to them, probably as some form of fortune telling.     There's plenty of areas to disperse to: unlike last visit to the Walden, this one *is* purely for pleasure, to celebrate on the Manus Vindictae's dime as proper VIPs, waited on hand and foot with hors d'oeuvres and a constant fountain of alcohol the moment they walk through the door. Naturally, as is the Concord way, every dinner is a business dinner because dinner itself is business, but there aren't any dramatic reveals or critical requests happening tonight. Still, Forget Me Not would never falter in greeting the Partners once they're past the door, and he gracefully ends his juggled trio of schmoozing tables to spread his arms wide in welcome towards them.
Timekeeper	"Hello, hello! Welcome, my most treasured guests, to this humble festival, to celebrate this so hallowed night. Please, revel in the revelries and indulge in the indulgences that I have set for you to enjoy in my Walden, however pleases you, for on this night we dance with the spirits of the past accompanying us!"     'Costumes' at this point in history aren't nearly as ubiquitous as they are in the modern age. As host of the party, though Forget Me Not *is* wearing one, that's monochrome and classy enough to fit his typical aesthetic. He's in a priest costume, skin powdered white with exaggerated shadows on his face to make him look almost corpselike with his dark grey hair, with one single dessicated white rose pinned to his chest. There's a cross hanging around his neck to complete the costume, but looking closely at it, a pair of tiny black glossy hands are gripping the cross on either side.     Smiling, with his slitted green eyes glinting in the firelight, "Is it not only right that we celebrate the thinning of the veil between past and future, my friends?" There's a smattering of other partygoers agreeing with calls of 'Happy Halloween', though Forget Me Not himself doesn't say it.     In addition to all the activity of the floor of the bar, the second floor VIP lounge is, of course, still freely available to the Concord, where the pair of Manus guards beside the stairwell will instantly step aside to allow them up. Forget Me Not is still mingling on the first floor, himself, though.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons... What COULD he wear as a costume, to an era where costumes aren't common? And given that he always, always wears something that is almost cartoonishly costume-like? What would pass well in this world, respectfully, and yet work well with the era?     In the urban zones of the late 20s, especially the financial sector, there was a severe outbreak of contagious negative ambitions. The Psychonauts hadn't been formed by that time, but precursor Volunteer Wellness Mentalists did battle with many "dangerous hysterias" and kept a variety of dramatic records about it. Around this time, as well, cartoons like Felix the Cat were well in the midst of popularity, and shaped the visual vocabulary of mental processes, helping refine early Astral Projection. It would only be five or so years until entire characters were shaped with the idea of the Lightbulb Moment metaphor.     That's why it actually makes total sense for Flamel Parsons to have attended in semi-costumed form, dressed up as a common Psychohazard, one that's probably incredibly relevant these days. He's a Bad Idea! Which is to say, his usual outfit has some flashes of gray and red, and there's a little lightbulb-with-devil-horns on a weird, wirey spring that flashes red at humorous times during the conversation. It's subdued, middling in effort, and mostly out of the way. Importantly, his immaculate humorous timing means it's also pretty funny.     "Great to be here! Always good to see you, Mr. Forget Me Not." He's beaming and happy. "I should get to indulging as much as you'll let me!" Ping! That red lightbulb. He has his little Sensible Chuckle, and heads out to go greet Schneider. And fish for compliments for his Very Clever Costume, on the assumption that a young girl like her has gone to see plenty of cartoons in the theater and read plenty in the newspapers. This may be either a piercing insight into the psyche of young people sharing universal facts, or a deep misunderstanding of Schneider's distinctiveness from the average young psychic camper. He's also fishing around for Druvis, on the off-chance that someone managed to light enough jack-o-lanterns to piss her off and drive her to drink.
Schneider Greco	There are no gunshots today. It'd only be in poor taste; something which Forget Me Not surely minds, even if some of his ticker-drooling guests don't.      "celebrate the thinning of the veil between past and future..."      "My-lord Forget-Me-Not, I won-der which are we?"      It's a light question, warmly-rolled off her tongue. It's one of the few times that girl has addressed him so directly, too. But tonight the name 'Schneider' wears a different face.      The figure stepping out from behind Forget Me Not is masked, but not with that mask. Something like a bird's skull conceals most of her face; the silver snakes have moved from armlets to hair-decorations, like a gorgon, hinting that the concealing of her eyes is a mercy.      Peacock feathers, iridescent like butterfly wings, cascade down to barely-cover her body under a black jacket, and the blood-scarlet that seems entangled with the name of Schneider only glimpses through in the quarter-eaten pomegranate in her hand, or when her eye peeks through the bird-skull-mask's socket.      A few grumblings from the patrons all-about are aimed at her:      "Hey, sweetheart. Aren't you cold?"      "Wait, I lost a lotta money because of you...!"      "Not gonna get on stage again? C'mon!"      "Tch. I told you, I could take 'er..."      "Governors," she tells them, only half-turning, "You must have me mistaken for someone else?"      There's the hint of a smile that the bird-skull can't hide, and then she's beguilingly holding out a plate of drinks at the arrivals, with her non-pomegranate-holding hand.
Angela	Angela was going to be bummed about not getting to go to a halloween party this year. She has positive feelings about the halloween party! And the Library, considerably more empty than Lobcorp, would make a poor substitute. The staff has been given the day off, Roland is boozing off with Netzach for the day and the rest of the Sephirah are gathering together but, as it turns out, Angela has a path to Halloween after all. White's going to be there, so she's willing to take the risk. Besides, this would be the first time she gets to consume Halloween items. Angela's arrival might be a surprise since it has been indicated she couldn't exactly leave her Library, but with the aid of Petra she can make it work. And because she doesn't want Petra puking feathers on a day of celebration, she is staying about as close as is reasonable. Despite getting to Halloween after all, Angela's expression is as dour and neutral as ever and unlike some of the times her expression is so neutral, that's actually what she's starting at this time. She pauses, for a moment, to take a look at the stock ticker--she didn't really pay much mind to it on the first time, since she was stuck on a video pad with limited camera range, but she doesn't linger long. Angela was a little worried about being offensive with her costume (Nobody's told her that she's particularly arcanist-like so she doesn't see herself as one--it was described to her as some blood thing? And Angela has only gotten ahold of blood recently). Since Angela thought wearing a witch costume would be offensive, she has instead elected to wear a devil costume albeit one with black horns and black raven-like wings draped down behind her back like a cape, a pitchfork in one hand and her Book in the other. She's wearing black high heeled shoes and an accompanying black dark purple midi-dress with thin straps. She didn't only come along with Petra. With her are two Librarians, one of whom is part time. The Librarian, Bong-Bong, is a star-eyed person with long blue hair and a charismatic aura around them. They are dressed as a sexy construction worker complete with hard-hat, short shorts, and an orange vest that says 'HARD AT WORK' in bright yellow letters on it. Along with Bong-Bong, is... THE MAGICAL GIRL OF LOVE The Magical Girl of Love is, well, you know them but they have decided to wear a Flamel costume. Or maybe it's just some sort of vaguely ominous secret agent. She is wearing a suit and slacks and sunglasses and is still carrying her big magic staff. Actually, you can tell that it's Flamel because there is a little plastic 'door' taped to her forehead. "Dadadadada! Here Comes Psychonaut!" The Magical Girl of Love says. Following the Magical Girl of Love is the Abnormality she's 'training' to be 'around people' today: HAPPY TEDDY BEAR. HAPPY TEDDY BEAR is a giant teddy bear that is wobbling around as it maneuvers around the Walden. It is missing an eye and has stuffing poking out of it. Love has hung a sign around its neck saying DO NOT HUG UNLESS VERY CONFIDENT that the Bear seems oblivious to because it's extending its arms out for a hug. "Greetings, Forget Me Not. My apologize for the larger than average retinue today," Angela says, extending her hand to the alchemist. "With Miss Petra's aid I am able to visit today. Thank you for setting up the festivities today." She doesn't comment on the thinning of the veil. "I hope everybody's psychology is doing good today!" Love says chirpily before looking towards Schneider. Her mouth hangs open for a moment in some mild shock. "Dark Magical Girl..." She whispers, eyes sparkling. "One who likes snakes...! Hiii!" She waves excitedly to Schneider.
Schneider Greco	"Are you, perhaps, a demon of electrification, my-lord? They are always talking in the churches of this, I-think, the wicked morning-star..." says the little gorgon, teetering drinks in Flamel's direction.      "... Or are you on-ly like those, mmnh, newspaper sillies?" D'oh. Somehow this barely-not-teenager has managed to 'playing your Nintendos' him.      "'Magical girl'? Of course this should mean 'arcanist' by Schneider's best reckoning, but it pings a bit of recognition from radio conversations gone by. The bird-skull tilts up, snakes faintly jangling. "Oh, like the Demon Lord... I see. And how bold to wear a suit, my-lady~."      "One who likes snakes...!"      The gorgon, of course, softly clucks her tongue.      "What is on someone's body, my-lady," the bird-skull tilts for a glittering eye to peek through the socket, "shows one's heart, better than what is part of it, right?"
Kukuru	Kukuru's not used to being waited on, but it's a wonderfully nice gesture from Forget Me Not that she's not shy about enjoying. It's been a busy week, so capping it off with extra time to sleep on the way over AND not having to cook her own dinner later is something she's definitely not going to turn down. She makes sure she's dressed properly for the occasion, of course, showing up in a blue ruffled gown with long sleeves. Fitting in with the Halloween spirit, the dress has little bloody tears across the legs, chest, and hips to show off a bit of skin, keeping it from truly being a modest costume. She's also got a chainsaw prop dangling off her back from a rope that looks like it was bought from a dollar-or-more store, covered in the same dried blood as everything else. Thankfully, the streaks of blood are dry, so there's little risk of staining anything with those. Greeting Forget Me Not at the door, she giggles softly while approaching him for a gentle, yet warm hug and completely misunderstanding his gesture on the way in. Although his priest costume doesn't bother her, she does give the hanging ghost decorations a brief staredown before going right back to her usual pleasantly sleepy smile. "Hello, he-llo~ Ah, it's been a bit, Forget Me Not... Have you been doing okaaay? Thanks for inviting us here again... Oh, are more friends visiting tonight? That's wonderful!" She replies, sounding genuinely pleased at the possibility of being able to chat up some older ghosts and spirits tonight. Sparing a brief glance at the ticker, she mostly holds in a saddened noise before turning back to the host of the party with a light clap of her hands. "Sooo! Did something good happen lately? I've heard there was some kind of trouble with the last job, but I thiiink it went alright?" She asks and comments, looking over at Flamel for confirmation.  She gives a little Sensible Chuckle (closer to an Amused Giggle, realy) of her own at seeing his costume that she totally doesn't get until his lightbulb pings. "Clever, clever... Hehe. Are you part of an oven today, Fla-melll?" She still doesn't get it, but she still smiles sweetly at him as ever while visibly resisting the urge to mess with his hair and fake horns. Hearing Schneider before she spots her, it's not hard for Kukuru to figure out that the masked girl is exactly who she's hoping to see as well. Her sleepy pleasant smile perks up a few notches (in pleasantness, if not in awakeness), and she leans sideways to get a better look at the design on it along with the pieces in her hair. "Oh, those snakes are so cute...! Ah, I could just eat you and them riiight up~" After taking a moment to calm herself, Kukuru finally steps over to give Schneider a gentle pat on the shoulder while staying out of the way of the door. Angela's arrival in a devil costume, too, gives Kukuru yet more wrong ideas, but in the good way since her eyes practically light up at seeing the horns. "Oh, Ange, Angeee! How adorable... And you've brought friends, too! He-llo, Bong-Bong. He-llo, Loooove~" She's definitely just going to hang out downstairs for now, because she really wants to see more of her friends and family in all of their wonderful little costumes that are definitely not setting her heart on fire right now.
Petra Soroka	Petra tries to remember when the last time she went to a Halloween party hosted by someone else was. Last year she didn't go to one at all, the year before that she hosted the one in Lobotomy Corporation, which remains one of her happiest memories, despite how fumblingly immature she was at the time still. Before that, she was friendless and new in the multiverse, and before that, on Io. She can barely remember, but it must have been in high school then, right? Something like going to Sydney's house, probably, and watching true crime movies while giggling on cushions on the floor and nagging each other into not gorging on chocolate.     This time she's here with Angela instead, leaning up against her in the limo. She's not wearing a costume, because she kind of just assumed that in the 1920s the only costumes people would wear would be, like, 'bedsheet with holes cut in it' or 'the most offensive thing you've ever seen'. Instead she's in what's about 30% of the way to being 'business casual' to her working in the City, while still being appropriately interpretable as a costume if it turns out that somehow literally everyone else decided to wear a costume: a white dress shirt and black tie, clipped with gold, and rather than a suit jacket, she has a longer black jacket on instead, that makes her look a bit like she's planning on stalking and killing someone in an alley after the party. "Here Comes Psychonaut!"     "Love...." Petra starts to say, and then trails off. Somehow, seeing Love dressed up like Flamel feels much more unsettlingly ghoulish to her than just seeing Flamel himself, and trying to spin that in her head as 'Love sees Flamel as something scary' only makes her feel vaguely worse.     It's good to see Love in a good mood, at least, and Angela's good mood is the reason why she came at all. It might seem in bad taste for her to show up to a Manus Vindictae party while staunchly being on Lilian's side in the recent scuffle between her and the Manus, but that's precisely her interest in being here. Not, of course, because she wants to leak information back to Lilian, but because the other Concord Partners seem to have a staggering disinterest in Forget Me Not, the man who's only ever referenced in terms of his power over Schneider, and that numbing lack of political stance in opposition to Lilian compels Petra to find out more about the organization outside of Schneider.     But, because of Doylist influences on her actions, she can only absorb information gathered from Forget Me Not's conversations with other people! Thankfully, it's hard to compel her to initiate conversations with a heterosexual man, and she's already feeling off-put by the whole situation, so she sticks by Angela and watches the ticker board for a minute.     "It's sort of weird to see in action, knowing what happens next year. Like, the stock market frenzy, and stuff. You hear about all these people taking loans after loans in order to buy and sell stocks at unsustainably high prices, and then getting fucked over when those stocks are suddenly worth nothing, and then you're taught about how they were all left starving and homeless afterwards. But I guess, looking at them now, they seem like they'd say that's a risk worth taking, don't they? Like, that's the price of paying and losing. Because of course it wouldn't happen to *them*. I guess, if they knew, would they stop?"
White	White, unfortunately, hadn't quite put the requisite time into considering a costume for tonight. In fact, she wasn't even sure there were going to *be* costumes, but nonetheless it would reflect poorly on her to not cover her bases, and so she has thought up a backup plan. On initial arrival as she's stepping out of the complimentary limousine, White is wearing a very similar dress to her usual daily-wear, but with the colors altered. The base is black, with slanted gradiating stripes of pumpkin orange and glow-in-the-dark pale green along the skirt. The sleeves have a white spiderweb design down the sides, and she seems to have complimented it with a small touch of makeup; six red dots on her forehead like extra little eyes, and a touch of jagged black on and below her bottom lip to suggest little fangs. Her eyes are open too, with the faint gleam complimenting the overall vibe. It's not a costume, but it's seasonal! She doesn't usually wear black, but she'd been complimented for the suit that one time, so...      She steps through the entryway like this, reflexively raising an arm to shade her face slightly against the bonfire while she gets a look around. She doesn't even turn her head as she reaches out to pluck an hors d'oeuvre from a tray, drawing it from the little skewer with her teeth while she considers the venue. Forget Me Not's choice of costume is... Almost annoyingly apt, for how she's thought of him, but she can respect that he put the effort in to fit the vibe. Of course, she can at least return his greeting with a polite nod, and a little dip at the knees to halfway-suggest a curtsy.      Throwing money into a fire for *any* reason seems quite strange to White, but she didn't expect to really feel any comaraderie with the shmucks being played at this establishment anyway. There's the balcony... She *would* kind of prefer not to be amongst the many, downstairs. But, if she goes and hides in a private area and avoids everyone, she's not going to get very much done tonight, is she? She has sidequests to complete, after all. And so many dialogue boxes to click through... For a moment, she wonders if she could've had the Demon Lord come on her behalf, but it doesn't take long to reassure herself that it would've been a questionable idea at best. She just has to buckle down and schmooze! God, that's a gross word. Okay. One drink as a reward before she starts.      And there's Schneider with a tray! She, of course, recognizes Schneider immediately, and with a little down-then-up glance White offers the smaller woman an 'ok' handsign. She has a good sense for aesthetic impact! "I'd like... To ask something... Of you. But I'll be... Right back. It's good to see you." She'll take a glass of the host's special potion from Schneider's tray, recalling a certain bottle of long-aged whiskey she once had as she takes her first sip. She really can be the worst kind of 'discerning' auntie, but she's at least holding off on more than one drink for now. The glass comes with her, when she walks across to first and foremost address Forget Me Not himself!      She's not sneaking up to him, even remotely; the straight line path she draws from the entrance to him probably grabs his attention well enough, since he already took notice of the Partners arriving. Well, she does at least wait until the others' greetings are done, so that he's not struggling to hear her! That, and she can give Flamel a little nod-wave on his way past, and say hi to Angela while she's in the proverbial neighborhood. "Miss Angela." she starts, plainly, briefly reaching over to give one of Angela's object-occupied hands a little squeeze. Then, "Miss Love." and the little magical girl is given a pat on the head. It's a funny costume idea, really.      Okay, so how is this supposed to go, again..? It's not like this is another convenience store. "It has been... Some time. I hope you have... Been well. I meant to ask you... About your potions. And their sale. Would you barter... For unique materials?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel brightens up when he sees her. "Angela! Wow, you *made* it! I, wow, I guess I'd just never expected you to come along. That's spectacular!" He beams, thinking, "I'm really glad we've made at least some progress. Something is always a lot more than nothing."     He's startled by the Vague Yet Ominous Government Agent outfit that comes from behind, though. "Woah! Haha, you're so right, I always say that!" He says, without even one tiny hint of sarcasm. "That's a pretty clever costume." Don't think about the time you disrupted her continuity of existence. Don't think about the time you killed her and now she's in a You costume. Do not process that thought. If you process it there's a good chance you'll BLIT your brain, Flamel. Anyway, he doesn't process it. Petra's doing some of that and she can deal with the BLIT she gets out of it.     He briefly speaks to Petra, "Sometime, ask me about the Buffet of the World Model. I'll explain the whole psychological process." Bing! Light. "I actually think you'll love it, because I personally *hate* the idea and it biases me towards thinking it's fake. But it's got that brain-feel of being one of the ones you like!"     Schneider! Locked onto, he smiles as he approaches. "More the newspaper sillies!" He says, laughing. "I figured, given my visit, I'd catch the local cultural wave! One of the ones that doesn't have anything to do with skin color or the way you talk...?" Hmm. He shoves that feeling aside. "Seemed like things got shakey for a bit, how's it been? I sure do hope that invitation thing went well." He says, blandly skipping past any alternatives uncritically. "Nice costume by the way, great to see you on the cutting edge culturally. It's so high-effort and well-done, I've turned into a stone!" He beams at a joke that might have gone over Schneider's head if she doesn't keep constant track of every factoid about everyone who helps her.     Reciprocation of the nodwave to White, of course. "Great seeing you again!" He's gotten a good back-and-forth with her as they've been getting camp set up and working on the Psychogate project, so he's always happy to poke the social interaction machinery. "Nice outfit, you've got such a strong... *brand* I guess? I always admire the way you have so much going on in your mind but such clear direction and form for it!" That got weirdly personal for someone he's been working with regularly for like one week -- which is part of Flamel's own brand!
Angela	Angela leaned back up against Petra in the limo and hugged her with one arm. She naturally didn't make many assumptions about costumes in the 1920s but she shrimply has so many outfit possibilities and few reasons to ever wear them but in this case she actually purchased an actual costume. She is not above summoning deliverymen to the Library directly (she doesn't think so much about how they're going to get back, but she's already helping them get to the Library in the first place so). Love probably didn't INTEND to go as Flamel specifically so much as a Psychonaut in general and then had no idea what a Psychonaut in general looked like outside of the outfit Flamel wears but she probably does find Psychonauts at least a little spooky. She WAS told that one went into her head and rewired her brain--or something like that, Love isn't sure she really knows the whole story but she doesn't know what she's missing and she's an optimist by nature. Her optimism helps her rely on both the power of Love AND Hate! Angela's twitching eyebrow suggests she's tolerating this largely because she likes seeing Love in a good mood. And not just because of concerns about her firing lasers everywhere! ''And how bold to wear a suit, my-lady~'' "Don't worry." Love says, fearing Schneider might be AFRAID of her costume. "I'm not really a Psychonaut, I'm actually a Magical Girl--just like you!" She beams at Schneider and twirls around on her foot before holding her V-Sign up to her eyeball. Happy Teddy Bear extends its hands towards SChneider for a hug but Love lightly baps its arms back down. "Sorry this big guy likes hugs." Love tells Schneider. "But you're right, it's very important for a girl's outfit to express their heart openly to the world around them." She bobs her head energetically. "My name's Love, nice to meetcha!" Love is actually capable of being interested in men. Sometimes men play an important role, sometimes men are like the edgy bad boy band lieutenant of the DARK QUEENS and sometimes men are the mysterious masked hero who comes to a magical girl's aid from time to time, and sometimes--they're both! She glances to Forget-Me-Not to figure which it is and ultimately pegs him as an edgy bad boy band lieutenant of a DARK QUEEN that she doeshn't know. You might think a magical girl might be troubled by this, but she isn't! Sometimes even the edgy bad boy band lieutenants can become true heroes if you blast them with magic enough! "Your adventure's gotta be so exciting." She tells Schneider breathlessly before he head turns to Kukuru who gets a biiig wave. "Hi!" Bong-Bong also says, "Hello, Kukuru, this whole... setting reminds me of when I was playing both Bong-Bong and Bong-Pong in My Gangland Soap Series about four crime families interacting in the bowels of District J's Backstreets. I heard the liquor here was incredible, but of course on set they only said it was liquor and I had to pretend, haha!" Angela is more invested in Forget Me Not than she was before for two reasons. One, Petra gave her some warning so as to not expect him to be particularly Ayin-like, and two--she actually has met him since then and he seemed reasonably polite and, well, he's pretty open about his hatred but so can Angela be. She intends to be more cautious today in that regard. But she wasn't expecting White to bargain for potions. Her head turns to her with a bit of a raised eyebrow. She shifts her book to the hand that's also holding a pitchfork and takes hold of White's hand. "I'm glad you could make it."
Angela	''I'm really glad we've made at least some progress. Something is always a lot more than nothing.'' Angela's trepidation about Flamel aside, she seems to be biting back any significant sass she has going on today. "It is thanks to Petra. It is nice to be able to able to participate in the festivities of the hour. If you have any particular cultural traditions you feel is important for psychological development, I will hear you out." ''Haha, you're so right. I always say that!'' "I'm ''incredible'' at costumes." The current Love says to Flamel. The worst part is, she seems consciously oblivious to the effect is it not having but could be having. "You always seem so happy, but it's okay if you have to meltdown and go crazy and try to kill all your friends." She advises. "It's an important part of processing emotions!"
Timekeeper	"Greetings, Forget Me Not. My apologize for the larger than average retinue today,"     Forget Me Not takes Angela's hand and bows to kiss it with a dramatic flourish. "Lady Angela, how *wonderful* it is to finally behold you in the flesh with my own eyes. I apologize, dearly, for my inability to properly welcome you on our prior meeting, and I hope my humble offerings today can begin to make up for it-- no, no, my Lady, you have nothing to apologize for. A friend of yours is a friend of mine."     He doesn't actually extend greetings towards Angela's Librarians, much less kiss their hands as he's done with every Concord Partner, but that's par for the course. Anyone guided by a sufficiently powerful woman should feel honored by proxy when their mistress is honored, is his opinion.     Forget Me Not makes sure to do his rounds of praising every outfit, costume or not. Flamel is given a chuckle and a praising "Clever, clever," when his bulb lights up, Angela and White are called beautiful in as many words as the English languge has to communicate that. Kukuru's ripped dress draws unwanted attention from the mostly clothed neck-to-toe crowd, and Forget Me Not slaps away a reaching hand with a scowl. "Back, you vile cur. Inebriation is no excuse for sullying the dignity of one of the most honored guests of the Walden-- begone, now, and never step foot into this establishment again." "Oh, are more friends visiting tonight? That's wonderful!"     After shooing that man out of the bar and pouring apologies on Kukuru mixed with praise for her appearance, he clasps her hand between both of his and smiles. "If they should choose to visit, then the table will be set and waiting." "Would you barter... For unique materials?"     When White starts the visibly-laborious process of talking to him, Forget Me Not plucks a potion off of a passing tray and dips his pinky finger barely into it. With a twist of his wrist, he flicks the purple fluid in a neat arc in the carpet around him, and for the pair of them, the volume of all the competing conversations at the party becomes hushed and breathy, as if everyone's decided to start whispering.     "My lady, we are *Partners*! Let us not think in terms of barter and equivalent exchange, these tools of commerce that mankind has erected to draw walls between brothers and sisters! For the health of our Concord, I will share with you whatever potions you desire, and if I shall need aid in return, we will have no need of enumeration or calculus to determine what one is owed for good favors. What is it you desire?" "My-lord Forget-Me-Not, I won-der which are we?"     "We are both, of course, Schneider." Forget Me Not plucks a drink off of her tray and sips it, only briefly looking over towards her. "Or have you forgotten? Our Lady Arcana, the noble Druvis Weyerhauser, these are the proofs of our feet standing between two worlds, in the past that was robbed from us and the future we will seize."     Everyone around him is drunk and not paying attention to a word of it, but it still seems worryingly radical to just be blurting out in the middle of a party full of humans. And those *hands* on the cross, too.
Ein	If there was any question as to if Druvis III could remain in revel besides fire, it was put to bed on Samhain. In an area cleared for her work near the fire, sectioned neatly by two bulky Manus members built like pugilist bouncers in long collared jackets with a silver cross on each folded-over lapel identical to the one Forget-Me-Not wears. Their deep blue-splashed neckerchiefs and spatter-down of color is muted on all the black, but like the draconically-headed evening-gown wearing Manus, they 'wear' a cyclopean-jeweled visored helmet with small protuberances implying ears as the only feature of the stony ensconcement. Both have their sleeves rolled up to reveal inky-black fists closed in readiness as they surveil the cash-mad guests seeking fortunes of the flipped card variety slowly. At a full kneel, a figure in black robes tied in ropes and ensconced in bramble-crown mask of wood and not dripping ink. Three-quarters seeming feline, one quarter simply a twist and snarl and reach-out of branches, there is no eye-holes and yet the wearer seems quite able to see and act. Act she does, in kneeling bend, working near the fire. Dark-sleeved arms move with a cloth-fall muted grace, intentfully pressing and chiseling at and smoothing a peat-dark piece of something thick before her, taking careful adjustments of an already mostly-formed shape. Placing tools down against the outermost spoke of the ritual circle, set so that her workspace is within the boundary of ashes, Druvis rocks just out of the ash-barrier to stand and step forward, leaving the dark shape - a bowl? - on worktarp and carrying a younger branch that still bears dry leaves forward. As cash turns to crisped nothing in an instant, the cloth sandal'ed and rope belted woman in simple falls of layered black fabric pushes the head of the wood into the flames and immediately starts a thick blaze on the end, turning left and right to even the destruction. Stepping back long after the heat might be uncomfortable, and when embers catch upon her mask and blacken spots upon it, she carries her burning branch high back into her guarded space, dropping all at once to fan the branch down and touch the floor. In a flare-out, her branch is extinguished and blackened to the breakpoint-end she held resolute against heat. Druvis, herself, rests in a half-cross of her legs, and returns to working for long moments as the party rampages and people socialize in the firelight. Crack,     Snap,         Crumble... In her hands, blackened pieces are removed from a core that takes a character by negative selection. Sure hands remove the wood given entirely to weak ash, and sooted working reveals an inner character highlit in bleak charcoaling. Then, to sanding, then, to belting and polishing, smoothing the head against a rough stone and moving through handfuls held of grit and simple tools until what is left is near to a teardrop. The object, placed with its black bowl, is lifted with some reverence and put down outside the roll of the fire, Druvis turning from within the circle to without, and one of her two guards steps away to fetch a pail of water that Druvis then refuses to touch the edge of, plunging hands straight into quenching-water to part from cloud of soot.
Ein	Standing, with a final rise, to approach Forget-Me-Not's entertainment of guests on the first floor, Druvis moves with purpose despite her costume seeming to be centered around dark cloth, rope belts, and what is revealed as a corded necklace with a silver crescent moon tightlooped around neck to fall just past throat against wood-sconced collar. Approaching Forget-Me-Not, with bowl and teardrop, it is only when cast in hand - rough giving, but clear in intent - what it is: a mortar and pestle, presented to the host of the party. "Yours is stone." She declares, and then in the same motion as she might press them into palms or discard them into grasp, she releases the items completely as if needing to be rid of them as part of the ritual. Then, with turn of mask, Druvis finally begins to regard the party as a party, regard the arriving Concord members as present, and apparently recall what was otherwise a madcap party she had parted with stride and sweep of burning branch. "You are here again." Declarative, again, and dry, but not without a tempering of applied pleasantness. A grain of sugar among the soot. "You must enjoy it. Welcome to our Samhain." She greets, and relaxes slightly upon seeing the peacocking color of Schneider, a faint turn of hip and light nasal exhale more praise in emotion than she had shown for hours. Having their resident showwoman in court meant that the performance had already ended in victory... Or at least that's how it worked for Druvis. There's such an attendance that the guileless-among-parties woman simply. . . stands there for a few beats not addressing anyone while processing even what to do now, knowing that to ask to be excused would be allowed, and also for once... Escaping seemed tiring too? For now, at least, for Samhain, she'd tarry before departing for her usual vigil.
White	White is more than content to take Angela's hand once she's made room and Forget Me Not's done with his customary gesture. It's always nice to see Angela getting to go out and do things, even mundane things, and even one more person she likes helps sway the ratio of the room in her favor, and her comfort with it. Forget Me Not is wise, too, as the little potion-splatter draws her eyes in confusion, which almost immediately turns into a faintly approving-appraising look at his face again. Again, she really can't fault his resourcefulness and perceptiveness. "... I see. I was hoping... To acquire some of..." She has to pause to try and remember if she knows of a more specific name for it, before roughly creating one instead. "The alcoholic mimicry potion. Perhaps a crate. The Demon Lord... Likes to drink heavily during... Celebrations, and the... Variety she can have... Is dwindling."      There's a pause as White seems done, but something comes to her a little suddenly while their conversation is bounded-off and made more comfortable. Namely, in the sidelong-gazing notice of Druvis, whose greeting is met with a slight turn (not enough to remove her hand from Angela's) and a pleasant nod. "I hope... You've been well... Miss Druvis." She has to mull her words a little more, following Druvis's look toward Schneider and wondering something. "I was... Hoping to speak... With you, today. Though, if everyone is... In full costume, perhaps I should... Change, first."      Because half-assing at a costume party, in her mind, means she'll stand out extra badly of course. She's kind of in a no-win on that front, but she can at least *try* to humor the spirit of the holiday.      Turning back to Forget Me Not, she adds, "It isn't a rush. We can... Make arrangements, later. Thank you."
Schneider Greco	"We are both, of course, Schneider. Or have you forgotten? Our Lady Arcana..."      "I could never forget her face," the skull-masked Schneider responds, keeping her voice's lazy warmth. "Or an-y-thing else... my-lord, forgive my mind for wandering."      There's no magic, of course, that prevents the humans around them from overhearing the radical Manus agenda. But the buzz of alcohol and the roar of entertainment and the hypnotic sand-hissing of the ticker fills the minds of the clientele so reliably.      ... before holding her V-Sign up to her eyeball.      Ah, so that is just something magical girls do. Schneider knows this one, and cocks her hips while returning the gesture as soon as she can fob off the tray.      "Not-to-worry, my-lady," she says to Love. "It is given to arcanists to dress... well, as we do. To be dressed as a man is not much stranger than..."      Well. She looks back at Druvis, whose head is hidden in that elaborate snarl of bark. She needn't look at herself.      "But I'll be... Right back. It's good to see you."      Oh, so forefinger and thumb in a circle... Schneider is learning so many new gestures. "It's good to see you as-well, my-lady," she purrs. "This hum-ble oracle shall, mmm, look forward to it."      "Oh, those snakes are so cute...! Ah, I could just eat you and them riiight up~"      "Many women-and-men have said this, my-lady Ku-ku-ru, and yet..." Crnnnch. A beautiful mouthful of gemstone-like seeds from the pomegranate, as she seats herself on the edge of a still-food-strewn table. "... mhm, I am still in one piece?"      It's impossible to tell what she's teasing-or-inviting specifically. But she's teasing-or-inviting something.      She turns and leans back towards Druvis from her table-edge perch, like Adam reaching languidly towards God, and her thumb breaks off a chunk of pomegranate from the rest.      "It is sour tonight, my-lady Weyerhauser," she says, "and under-ripe, but I like it? Have some. This one, mhmhm, it will not trap you forever."
Angela	Memories that don't belong to her lurk on the edges of Angela's consciousness. A dance in an an empty hall. Laying in the grass. Watching the waves. She does not resist Forget Me Not's flourish or the kiss, taking it as a ... well, actually, she doesn't know WHEN Forget-Me-Not is from but it is fitting to the era, isn't it? Friend seems a strange way to refer to Love, let alone Bong-Bong, but she doesn't argue in either case because she doesn't want to dampen Love's mood. Forget-Me-Not seems competent, even skilled, at managing the Partners so she ought to respect that. Petra won't talk to a heterosexual man, but Angela has had a lot of experience talking to a heterosexual man as of late, but she can't exactly treat Forget-Me-Not like Roland. "You are hardly to blame for my limitations. You made your upmost effort, and that is what matters to me." She swallows down the statement 'I am uncertain as to why you treat me this respectfully at all'. It might be her time as a secretary coming back to her. She also remembers Petra telling her not to bring stuff like that up all the time lest it harm her existing and potential relationships. But it's really Forget-Me-Not looking out for Kukuru that gives her the most pause. While Angela's opinion of Kukuru has moved this way and that over time, Kukuru has been quite consistent in helping her all the way to today and so she does feel loyal to her--enough that she has named her her ''sponsor'' despite her never having really had one. She looks over to her and even smiles, answering--a bit belatedly--"You like the costume then? It was a bit of a rush job." Rushing upstairs when the people she's here to see are downstairs is a silly enough idea, though she can't help but glance up at that area to see who actually IS loitering up there when the host and the Druvis are down here. ''SPEAKING OF DRUVIS'' "Miss Druvis." Angela says. She is quiet for a moment later, almost to the point that you might expect she doesn't intend to say anything else. "You're right." She says. She ''must'' enjoy Samhain. "I hope one day I can introduce you to my tree, Miss Druvis. Do you enjoy the taste of oranges?" ''Never step foot into this establishment again.'' Angela glances at the Happy Teddy Bear and if that rude customer tarries too long he's going to end up HUGGED by the Happy Teddy Bear who will march him right out the front door while hugging. "Not too tightly! No crushing!" Love shouts. Her hand tightens against White's hand. ''Schneider returns the gesture.'' Love places her hand on her heard, clearly enthused by this gesture of comradery even if Dark Magical Girls don't usually do that one--but she's learned that the multiverse can be very slightly more complicated than her magical girl reality but Dark Magical GIrls are often actually very sweet and good girls in the end. That's why they get so dark, after all. When you're so good and sweet it's so much easier to become dark. "You can see me uncostumed sometime...! Sometimes I'm a snek!" She says it like snek.
Flamel Parsons	"It is thanks to Petra."     "Lord don't I know it." Flamel laughs, nervously. "These days, it sure does feel like most of my work is just making a link from one brain to another and letting them solve it themselves. That doesn't seem right, you know? I'm supposed to be solving it myself! Haha." He chuckles DSMishly and sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, while the light pings on. "Anyway, remind me to chat later about a project I'm working on! I've got something I'd like to aim at the City and I'd like you to give it the review and sign-off." He trails off a bit and trends towards other interactions.     "It's an important part of processing emotions!"     "See, that's actually a common misconception -- I have a lot of friends who can actually keep me from *ever* melting down! Besides," He scratches his cheek. "The one time! That didn't really process much, honestly."     "You must enjoy it. Welcome to our Samhain."     "It's true! I really do. Not the least of why because I like moving around in an astrally-structured environment. And absorbing a party is nice, telepathically-speaking! Even if it's pretty overwhelming sometimes." He rambles, doing his best to be chatty and friendly. "Your work is still so impressive to me, given the universal herbaphony. I tried asking Zanotto about it in more detail," Red-lightbulb ping. "And you know what? He said just about the same thing! That I wouldn't be able to know without hearing it. He's the head-honcho of the people I work for, apparently all that stuff is very motivating to him too." He makes a vague handwavey motion. "Anyway, always appreciate you stopping by, I know you're not a party type!"
Petra Soroka	"But it's got that brain-feel of being one of the ones you like!"     Petra grimaces a little, tucking her hands underneath her jacket. "Uh huh. I mean, I hate the way you say that, but I'll listen if it's useful to me. And if you hate it, that's even better." "If you have any particular cultural traditions you feel is important for psychological development, I will hear you out."     Really, in terms of holiday cultural touchstones, Petra feels like most of them were covered by the Halloween party at Lobotomy Corporation. Back then, she even made an effort to reconstruct those typically-loathed cultural patterns into more fond simulacra, essentializing the imagery of Halloween and then infusing it with the spirit of the moment so that Petra and everyone she cared about could enjoy the familiar symbols.     "You could get blackout drunk and do something that goes on your permanent record," Petra advises Angela half-heartedly. "Actually, I do wonder if you'll start being able to get drunk before your memory starts getting worse. Maybe you *could* get blackout drunk and forget stuff." "It's an important part of processing emotions!"     Wow! Love is making Petra feel physically ill! She has to avert her eyes from the conversation between Flamel and Love, distracting herself by grabbing a glass of clear potion instead and being confused at the concept of it before taking a sip. "To be dressed as a man is not much stranger than..." PHONE: Lilian Rook says, "You're always doing that! Putting on binders and baggy pants and smoking shitty cigarettes and being *such* a *girl* about it and you *know* it!"     Petra looks down at herself, then over at Schneider, tucking herself between two stools by the bar to remain near Angela. "I mean, it only makes sense. There isn't a piece of clothing that's ever existed that doesn't carry a cultural signifier with it. It's the same as language; fashion in its entirety is something that's filtered through the collective opinions of thousands of years of history. If those people hate you, then use that language to say that you know it." "I hope one day I can introduce you to my tree, Miss Druvis."     Petra straightens up, following Angela's attention, and then catching on the mask. "Oh. You're Druvis? I was told that we'd get along, but I don't know why." She tilts her head, trying to read into the specific choice of the mask. "Welcome to our Samhain."     That immediately gives Petra *an* answer, but it's not one that she feels comfortable leaving as-is, which compels her to keep probing. "Samhain... it doesn't seem like that's what most of the others are here for." Stocks, mostly. Halloween, secondarily. "How'd you end up here?"
Petra Soroka	"That didn't really process much, honestly."     "Well, it processed my girlfriend into a pile of ashes, at least," Petra asides dispassionately, like it's just a casual remark. She's not in a *great* mood, with regards to Flamel, today.
Flamel Parsons	"Well, it processed my girlfriend into a pile of ashes, at least."     Flamel kind of gets quiet, and the smile gets awkward. "Y-yeah." Is the word that sort of works as an exception-handler. "Well, a meltdown from me doesn't do much good for anyone, I suppose." The words halt oddly. The breath hitches. But he focuses on having a good night at the party -- and gives Petra her space, save that buffet explanation for later.
Angela	''See, that's actually a common misconception.'' "Oh." Love blinks. "Then why did we do all those a bazillion times?" She knows they weren't done for Angela even if it ended up that way! "Well I'm only pretending to be a Psychonaut, I guess. I don't actually know what's psycho-logically healthy." ''Remind me to chat later about a project I'm working on! I've got something I'd like to aim at the City.'' "I am skeptical." Angela tells Flamel. "But I will hear you out." The 'I guess' isn't stated but it's sort of elementally there in the tone all the same. Angela seems a little skeptical that Flamel is doing fine but she supposes the very idea that Flamel is 'laughing nervously' feels strange in of itself. ''You could get blackout drunk and do something that goes on your permanent record.'' Angela looks at Petra for a long moment. "..." "...Alright." Angela is, as a person, loathe to get blackout drunk or blackout or drunk. The fact she says 'Alright' might seem strange. "It would be a viable experiment to test the depths of our progress." But maybe they should leave? They made an appearance, have engaged in some basic level Halloweening, even heard someone say 'Samhain'. She follows Petra instinctively, even if it means letting go of White's hand for a moment (unless she follows along) because she wants to keep the pressure on Petra as light as possible. "That's...hm." She thinks for a moment. She thinks about the outfit she was made to wear and the outfit she chose to wear and how it explicitely feels designed to piss off her father. "No, you're right. That makes perfect sense." ''But I don't know why.'' "It was some instinct." She nods to Druvis. "Petra is a sister to me." Angela tells her. "She is one who has shared my burdens. I owe her much." ''Well, it processed my girlfriend into a pile of ashes, at least.'' Angela's grip in White's hand, if she's still holding onto it, tightens more. Or it curls into a fist after. It's increasingly difficult to act like it's nothing. That it's not real. Those feathers on her costume seem to grow an inch across Angela's back. Her gaze follows Flamel as he gives Petra space.
Ein	Offered over table-perch, God Herself reaching in cat and bramble mask to reach finger out - finger and thumb, pinched - to pluck from Eve's colorfully-plumed offering, Druvis takes the pomegranate and exhales-in-faint-'hm'-of-laughter again, Schneider able to pull and draw Druvis into a space other than indifferent reverie and dissociated lounging in a way that all of Forget-Me-Not's praise fell upon her ears, her neck and shoulders as abluting obeisance that she observed for the religious needs of another. She didn't mind it, but at the same time... Comraderie supped more gently than worship. As she draws that pomegranate piece close, fingers separating one ruby-perfect ampuole of sweet juice and holding that apart. "So," She draws short, and then, thoughtfully: "The one in the story did not either. Six months for six seeds." She recounts, and then touches fingers to face -- to mask -- and dips in remembering the operation required to sample. Paused in that, she still speaks. "Sour and young suits you, I'd say... Miss Schneider." Drawing out the 'miss', in echo of her own 'Miss' Druvis, her fingers close around the fruit, and she is asked of oranges instead. "A forest of yours? I would speak to any tree with still a voice. When I first saw them I knew..." Druvis moves from excited to reverent to quiet, and then mask tilting, she favors Angela with a look. "I would like that. Forget-Me-Not can assist," There's no doubt. "I'm sure." He was the Partner, after all. The barman who made each connection, the *host*. "I don't mind the taste of oranges. I prefer them to be more tart than sweet," She admits, clearly with a preference. "And more sharp than mild. They are different flavors." Flamel is an enigma but also someone who seems to understand in at least one critical way how loud it truly was. The fire, by contrast, seemed to be a silence to her, a quiet despite the roar. The endstate - ashes - was 'unreadable'. Behind her was the transmutation from vivid to empty, and before her Flamel speaks something surprising. He thanks her. ". . ." The textbox is clear, a shift that translates through mask by the dip of shoulders and angle of head. "You're welcome." She states, perhaps for the Walden's forest as a whole, and perhaps for just herself. "Thank you for trying," The intensity dims and she loses the rest of the sentence. Was she really thankful? What even did she feel? Thankfully feeling was broken in space by Petra asking her about getting along. Getting along? Drawn-up in a way different than before, new-person presence making Druvis turn to affecting regality as a defense mechanism, the expectation takes a moment to process. "I own the forest. And am of it."
Timekeeper	"Yours is stone."     Forget Me Not holds his hand to his chest, awed to the point of speechlessness, before hastily using both hands to cradle the mortar and pestle. "You honor me beyond compare, my lady."     His thumbs brush against the curve of the mortar, cupping it as gently yet pressingly as he does when clasping her own hand. No whorl of grain in the bogwood goes unappreciated, nor the lingering heat in the pestle that came directly from the sanctified ceremonial ashes. It's drippingly greasonous, and yet so rapturous that it can't possibly be mistaken as anything besides sincere, with the rest of the party fading from his attention as he appreciates it.     "*Was* stone, my lady, and now, forevermore, shall be uplifted by the gift you saw fit to bestow upon me. The past as it was when this land was unsullied, laid still in respite, unchanging to the present, to form the rock upon which new life shall be forged...." He waxes poetic about the mortar and pestle until trailing off, and then bows his head. "I shall make great use of it for our future glories, for the Manus Vindictae." "We can... Make arrangements, later. Thank you."     Forget Me Not seems to *thrive* in situations where he can go above and beyond for the sake of impressing magical women. He claps his hands above his head, and one of the masked Manus servants strides through the crowd towards him, people irritatedly parting and spitting annoyance at having to adjust. "Nonsense, Lady White. We shall, of course, have every opportunity to further discuss your needs in the future, but I would be loathe to let you leave my establishment emptyhanded. Prepare a dozen potions, to be transported home with our Partner when she tires and wishes to leave." "Or an-y-thing else... my-lord, forgive my mind for wandering."     "You are forgiven," Forget Me Not declares magnanimously, pleased with himself. "Today is a day for wandering, is it not? As the dead do, and will again." "You made your upmost effort, and that is what matters to me."     "Let that never be cause to be idle, when more may be done," Forget Me Not promises Angela smoothly, while drifting from one person to the next in the sea of the party. "And if ever the Manus can be useful in your workings, then you must only call for us."
Kukuru	Petra's costume gets a pleased hum out of Kukuru as well, who somehow seems to recognize it as a costume rather than just nice clothes. "Oh, I didn't even think about butler before... And it fits riiight into here, too. Wonderful choice, Petra~" Seeing White in new colors, meanwhile, has Kukuru doing a double-take. Between the stark difference from her usual subdued look and the extra eye makeup, Kukuru actually gets momentarily confused until she stares for a few more seconds. "Whiiite! Oh, this new look is a really nice fit.  The colors on the sleeves, and those-aw, those fangs...!" Kukuru loving all of the costumes on display today, especially since none of them ring any alarm bells in her mind. Turning to Bong-Bong with a curious tilt of her head, Kukuru settles in a bit while listening to the Gangland story. "Ooh... You've acted before? It's so fuuuun, right? being able to act like a completely different character, putting on a new face and clothes you wouldn't normally wear... Ah, four families sounds like way too many, but acting like you're handling that many..." She closes her eyes briefly,t en starts chuckling softly. "That still sounds wonderful, too... Did you get to bring them all together at the end? Oh, yes, the drinks are Forget-Me-Not's special... Thingy. They taste just right no matter what you want, and you can drink these for real!" She gives a glowing review of the drinks and raises one with her pinky sticking out and all. While Kukuru's fawning over her fellow Concord members and associates, she doesn't even notice the reaching hand until she hears Forget Me Not scolding the owner and slapping it away. She doesn't seem perturbed by it at all, and she chuckles again when Forget-Me-Not offers all those apologies and takes her hand, patting the back of his with her free one to complete the circuit. "Aw, you'e so thoughtful... Hehe. I hope they do visit, mhm. Then whoever that person was with won't be so lonely without him~" Forget-Me-Not's volume and open declarations is the first thing tonights that makes her usually pleasant expression waver a bit. The first time ,it was just a quirk, but hearing it again starts to have her worry about something. She's not certain how to address it just yet, but she keeps it in the back of her mind as she instead glances arund to see if there's been any reactions to that. Luckily, the Walden's customers and visitors and money-hurlers don't appear worried, so she instead turns her attention to the Concord members and the known members of Manus Vindictae. That turns into spotting a curious character over by the fire, and Kukuru soon finds herself watching Druvis at work from a safe distance where her dress won't catch on fire. She watches that closely despite understanding so little of it, just sort of entranced until Druvis offers Forget-Me-Not the mortar and pestle. "Stone...? Oh! He-llo, Druviiis. Mhm, mhm, it's really comfortable here, and I could never turn down an invitation from friends and family." Noticing that subtle standing-around-ness that Druvis is doing, Kukuru steps closer to offer a hand. She'll take Druvis's hand in both of hers if the offer is accepted, apparently content to just stand around with her for a good while. "That bowl you made... Did you learn how to do that yourself?" "... mhm, I am still in one piece?" When was the last time Kukuru had a pomegranate? Seeing Schneider eating one up close puts a whole bunch of thoughts into her head at once, and the strongest one even gets her to murmur something about last week's sales. The distraction only lasts a moment, though, and then she gives Schneider another playful giggle followed by a toothy grin. Even though her teeth are remarkably jagged and shark-like rather than human-like, she still manages to make it not look threatening in the least. "Hehe... Ah, later then. Biting someone in public might give everyone here the wrong idea." She says with another pleasant hum a playful wink.
Kukuru	"You like the costume then? It was a bit of a rush job." "I doooo! The colors are really nice and homey, just like mom." Kukuru explains to Angela while possibly raising more questions, nodding firmly like she's assessing her costume as an expert somehow. "The wings looks siiuper comfy just like the big birds in some of those mountains, and the horns..." Kukuru reaches up to rub her own drills idly, and then she giggles giddily. She's totally getting some kind of heartwarming idea from that, and she doesn't even have Forget-Me-Not's potion to blame for that! It's still full. "And the dress and heels are extra cute on you, too. Just be careful around anyone who gets too handsy when you don't want them to, okaaay?" "Even if it's pretty overwhelming sometimes." "Oh! Oh! Flamel. Flameeel dear?" Kukuru calls out, complete with waving her arm high and jumping in place once to try and get his attention, partially ripped dress be damned. "If you ever feel too whelmed in here, lemme know, okaaay? I can get you right out and back in whenever you're ready."
Flamel Parsons	"If you ever feel too whelmed in here, lemme know, okaaay?"     "Oh, it's fine, actually!" Flamel waves over to Kukuru. "I'm a bit of a stereotype of telepaths and all, it just leaves some of my faculties backed up. I still enjoy the party! Can't you just *drink* up that atmosphere?"
White	Well, it's hard to say it isn't pleasant to have someone trying to impress her. So, she won't say it! If he's happy to help, then she's made him happy and has honored any half of the deal she might have been responsible for! If she just thinks of it like that, it's almost like things went excellently, and she's chalked up a little win for herself after all. "Then, thank you again... Mister Forget Me Not. The Demon Lord should... Be happy." And that's not a lie either; she might be behaving a little dishonestly, but she *does* plan to give most of it to Ariel. A treat is a treat, after all. Just... Once she's sure there aren't any side-effects.      Angela releasing her hand to follow Petra isn't initially taken as a bad sign, but she remembers just enough of other times when Cinder came up in conversations. She sees the clenched fist, she hears Petra's tone and Flamel's attempt to disengage in discomfort, and she's left slightly at a loss for what, if anything, she could say. It feels quite a lot like nobody wants anything more to be said, so... That may be the best thing. She instead simply makes sure to wave slightly to Angela, softly murmuring "I'll be back... In a moment." She then reaches out to momentarily quell Kukuru's fawning with a couple of gentle pats on the head (she's still sort of a big squeezy kid in White's head). A few small bows of her head are the rest of her self-excusal, and- Ah, she's already gone. It's not proper to 'change' at the event venue, after all... But it's only a minute or two before she's coming back through the front door.
White	When White returns, the difference is utterly impossible to miss if you're paying attention. Nothing above the hips, technically, has changed at all; not in her clothing, or in her body. Saying it's only below the hips is a little dishonest too, given the fact that the huge spider's body that has replaced her legs has a few times more volume to it than her entire human body, and its round abdomen almost crests the top of her head when she's viewed from the front. Her skirt is necessarily nudged to one side so as not to cover the quite real and genuine face of her new lower half, giving her an entire second set of jewel-red eyes above the blade-sharp pedipalps and politely withdrawn chelicera. The entire outer surface is as white as the rest of her body usually is, with sharp stubby 'horns' poking up from atop the spider's head and thinner, longer spines coming out along either side, like a crude parody of a cat's whiskers. The almost spherical abdomen is built like a tank, with angular ridges infrequently around the apex that make her silhouette a little more jagged even if they look quite smooth to the touch. The legs seem to come to relatively sharp points, but the forelegs in particular are gifted with additional joints and sickle-like inward-facing edges, making it quite clear exactly which leg White must have removed to make her own scythe.      But, it's just a body to her. Even with the tank-like presentation and mass, her omnidirectional vision and awareness of her position allows her to avoid bumping into anything or making other clumsy mistakes; if anything she seems slightly more confident to walk in this form than on two human feet, and finds it easier to disregard brief unintended contact if someone mistakenly bumps her or brushes against her. Not that it's much to brag about, feeling more comfortable when you're wearing a bunch of 'armor'... > https://shorturl.at/ttfeJ      If anyone from particularly close reacts too sharply to her... Very convincing change of look, she mutters "Costume." in their direction like it's a word of warding. If she just doesn't acknowledge anyone's reactions who she doesn't know personally, then she's basically blending in, right? Maybe this is too early of an era for animatronics, but she's really banking on the locals' addiction to showmanship and the like to pass it off naturally. Nevermind that her arachne-abdomen doesn't feel like cold metal at all. She just has to delicately stride right back up to Schneider, who she had indeed told she'd 'be right back', joining her but politely, slightly apart from Druvis until she's invited into the conversation. She still has the same straight-backed, hands-folded posture even without human legs or a strictly human spine.      Petra might be the only one here to have seen her like this, come to think. Guess that's one more thing off the to-do list, isn't it?
Petra Soroka	"Y-yeah."     "Yeah..." Petra trails off with a sigh, lazily watching Flamel retreat in her peripheral vision before returning her attention to the potion-filled glass in front of her. That didn't make her feel any better, for whatever reason. "It would be a viable experiment to test the depths of our progress."     Petra's face lifts up suddenly, and then she hesitates and speaks slower than she moved. "Oh, I was... making a joke, but, yeah. I mean, if you can get drunk, you might as well. The next human milestone after that is me holding back your hair while you vomit in a public bathroom." She hastily adds, because that's not a great thing to say for Angela's image, "Really, there's so many processes involved with that that you've made huge progress if it's possible to get drunk." "I own the forest. And am of it."     "Oh." Petra falls silent for a minute, processing Druvis's bluntness in her head. The urge to prompt for explanations bubbles up, and is tamped down by slow breaths to absorb the atmosphere-- but the atmosphere here is mostly sweat and body heat from close-packed partygoers, and that can't be right. Breathing quietly, she suddenly catches something that registers as 'Lilian' in the back of her mind, startling and opening her eyes again after whipping her head around to the source, towards the fire.     Probably, actually, there's no need for clarification at all. She's part of the Manus Vindictae, after all. "... I think, by the time I was born, on Earth, this entire area was fully covered by 'Chicago'. I've seen a few places where that wasn't true, but none where the world was unscathed too."
Schneider Greco	"You are forgiven. Today is a day for wandering, is it not? As the dead do, and will again."      "Mmmhh. It's so, my-lord." Elsewhere, Petra is staring up at the ticker, commenting on the impending crash and the men who'll come to ruination on it. Schneider stares, too. "... We are always watching the dead wander."      "The one in the story did not either. Six months for six seeds."      Gods can be alright, Schneider has lately decided, but church is still a dreadful place for them. Coaxing Druvis down from her lofted ambiguity is a good deed. "Six months a year, my-lady. If you had twelve...? Mhmhm, no."      Thumb-and-pinkie set to either side of the beak, she lifts the bird skull that sits askew on her face just enough to show juice-red lips smiling.      "Melograni," she says: that's the word. "This one, it is a little foreigner to me; I do not know its parents. But others grew by the woods I once belonged-to, out-num-bered by the..."      Oranges. That thing she always smells of. It must be an affectation to perfume herself like that, hiding some other scent perhaps of smoke, but it makes it feel as if she had just fallen from one of those trees of her youth, the bright citrus oils of the peels still on her.      She acknowledges Angela (and Petra) with a leaning-forward from Druvis and a resettling of the askew bird-skull mask, still showing one red eye glittering through the socket. "You grow oranges as well, my-lady An-gel-a? I know much about their care. Do come to me if I might help?" An echoing, almost, of Forget Me Not.      "... I was told that we'd get along, but I don't know why."      "My-lady Druvis is joyful for any to bring to their heart," Schneider smiles to Petra... but, then, Schneider isn't a bellwether of normalcy herself. "I should hard-ly be sur-prised."
Schneider Greco	"If those people hate you, then use that language to say that you know it."      The skull mask only makes the little gorgon's expressions half-unreadable. If Petra can see a half-smile, there's probably a full one. "Very good, my-lord."      Schneider lets her dark coat fall from her leading hip, then puts her heel up on the table she perches on, revealing a virtually naked amount of outer thigh with maybe one peacock-feather on the literal pelvis.      "To be dressed at all..." she murmurs contemplatively, looking at her own bare skin with the stage's firelight cast against it, "... is like the policeman saying, 'show me your papers', yes? You are forced, by such demands and such eyes, to label yourself one-way or an-oth-er..."      She picks at that one concealing feather thoughtfully, disdainfully.      "It is such a pain, my-lord. You take the symbols of the men; I would rath-er wear nothing at all." She sighs, in the exact tone of someone who's had cops try to arrest her for public indecency before.      "Biting someone in public might give everyone here the wrong idea..."      "Who cares, my-lady?" she purrs at Kukuru sweetly, only slightly re-covering herself. "Mmmmh, but I will bite you all the worse. Could you promise not to squeak?"
Angela	Angela considers Druvis's tastes. "They are the only oranges I've eaten. To me they are the most delicious oranges in the multiverse, but I can at least promise they have some tartness to them, though I do not know relative to the average with regards to 'mild' or 'sharp'." This time, Angela thinks, Druvis feels a little less Hiromi-esque than she thought the first time--maybe if she imagined a triangle with Evehime and Hiromi, Druvis would be a third point? she's unsure, but she's glad she's to the point. It is a bit meaningful that she thinks of the orange tree as hers first and the Library as something different in a way she probably can't really articulate. "Then I can be host. I am working on my hosting." ''Prepare a dozen potions.'' Angela's determination to be a ''supportive girlfriend'' means that honestly satisfying White's desires is just as if not more so meaningful than offers to her. She isn't sure why White is so into getting various forms of alcohol but she is pretty cute when inebriated. ''And if ever the Manus can be useful in your workings...'' Angela hadn't really considered what the MANUS can do for HER before. She doesn't want Petra to think of her as a ''sucker'' of course but saying she doesn't want anything is a much bigger 'sucker' move than being unwilling to make a deal. Work all the angles, she tells herself. "Since you are offering--" Angela begins. There is some danger to what she's asking, but there is mutual benefit in situations like this. "My purpose with the Library is to channel the energy of the collective unconsciousness taken form as ''Light'' in order to alter my physiology into a state that will allow me to break free of the shackles binding me to the old Lobotomy Corp facility." She specifies this because ''The Library'' isn't just THAT but also her EGO. This sort of strange state makes it more her own but EGO are not normally such cells to be trapped in. "Right now the Library is primarily missing manpower though if the Manus Vindictae knows of a method to speed up--or obliviate--the process, I would appreciate the breadth of their arcane expertise. Right now the process primarily involves a vast amount of semi-permeable human sacrifice over a long period of time. I'd prefer speed." Mentioning the emotional toll of killing humans to the anti-human organization seems a little silly so she elects not to. ''Oh you've acted before?'' "My dear Kukuru!" Bong-Bong says, #-1 FUNCTION (ASNI) NOT FOUND They pause at the idea of bringing four crime families together. "Ah, we ended on a cliffhanger with a looming war between the four families, Bong-Bong and their lovers tragically pulled away by the machinations of their various parents keen on seizing power and revenge for their respective Syndicates." ''Vomit in a public bathroom'' Angela hesitates, thinking about her public image. But maybe if she times it just right... "Understood. If I start to feel queasy I will cease." Angela promptly collects a drink and gets started. She grimaces at the first taste of it. She has drank some of that champagne out of curiousity but she didn't exactly have much left by the time she gained the ability to consume beverages. She grimaces faintly at the initial hit and paces herself as her newness will allow. Her MOM could drink all she'd like. She's not going to lose to her.
Angela	Angela doesn't want to talk about Cinder. But on some part, she has to know that's not good. Her life experience is all about the dangers of not talking about important things. But it's a strangely frightening thing to think about. If she dwells on it, would she give up? If she dwells on it, will she blame herself? She chose not to reset. She knows nobody would've agreed with that over Cinder. IT wouldn't have even been Petra's Cinder. It feels like it would've been cruel to even offer. Don't think about it. Not today. Not yet. You can shed all the tears once you're free and feel all the regrets once you're free. ''Orange oranges'' "You should come by." Angela tells Schneider. "I feel I haven't stumbled so far in the caring, but I would not object to an expert's eye." ''But I will bite you all the worse. Could you promise not to squeak.'' Angela looks to Kukuru for a moment but says nothing. It's not a look of warning. ''Arachne!!'' Angela turns to look at White. She hasn't seen her arachne form before though she doesn't gasp or startle at the sight of it. There's a slight shift in her eyebrows but that's about it. Her processing speed helps obscure surprise. Inwardly she's wondering how she should react. It's just White, of course, but is she a little bashful about this form? She hasn't seen it before. Should she just charge in carelessly? Hmm. She doubts this is exactly a crowd that would take offense at her vomiting in a toilet or embracing a half spider person, at least. This is old school magicians right? She might not really know the full breadth of the kind of rituals they get up to but she has to imagine that it has to reach the sorts of magicks that are a bit more disturbing than just a bit of vomit, or just hugging a spider woman. These are people who are surely abreast of old magic, whatever that means here, and old magic in all the stories are a dark, dangerous, beautiful, and sometimes hideous thing. She eventually settles for a moderate approach. When White gets close enough that she can approach without causing Petra harm, she approaches and wraps an arm around her waist, above the spider-head portion, which is about what she can reach. "Your 'costume' looks good, White." She rests her head, briefly, on top of the spider head, behind the eyes. ''I would rath-er wear nothing at all.'' "Wow..." Love says. "Are you allowed to wear nothing before the final episode? Or when you aren't mid-transformation?"
Schneider Greco	Given the nonreactions that the clientele here have to goopy masks and claw-handed women, one might expect the same for White. Fortunately or unfortunately, that isn't so. "Ohhhh, mother of Mary..." "Huh? Who let that in here?" "Forget Me Not, get ahold of your people." "Hoooh-lee..." "That's gotta just be a critter, right...?" "Nah, it's a two-person outfit, like those Chinese do." "C'monnn, that's a fuckin' bug--"      TINK-KSHHHH.      Schneider drops an empty glass on the floor, which shatters. Of course the murmurs cut off and every eye darts to the source, half-expecting a bar fight.      Instead they get to see her rising and taking White's hand, which quiets them down to mumbling.      "My-lady, you look beautiful. And more confident this way! You were hiding from me, I can-not believe, that you are a soft dumpling too? Mhmhm! Ohh, come," tugging back Druvis-ward and then circling around, "alas the round part does-not look soft, but may I pet it anyway? Oh, you should always be like this, of-course..."      Smiling like the cat that got the canary: "My apologies, my-lord Forget-Me-Not, for the glass. I shall clean it in a minute, yes?"
White	White momentarily draws her phone from her sleeve, looking up 'Melograni' (and 'Samhain', while she's at it) before feeling a little bit silly and putting it away again. "Around your... Home? That sounds nice. In Sariella... It was mostly apples. But sometimes the people... Brought melons, too." But, it seems she's not quite keeping up with the shift in attention for a moment; all the normies in the world could be mumbling mean things, and she could filter it out easily enough, but Schneider's dropped glass somehow surprises her enough to bounce just an inch or two off the ground, her backmost legs staying on the ground while the frontmost six legs all *tocktocktock* back onto solid flooring. Her hands flatten and arms part slightly with the motion, as if to keep her balance atop a horse. One hand ends up in Schneider's, and when Angela wraps an arm around her waist and rests her head on the spider-half's forehead White suddenly has a lot of small things to do! Schneider pulling her along means she has to hold onto Angela around a shoulder to keep her from stumbling with all those legs working beside her, and with Angela being pulled along that means *Petra* is liable to have an incident if not for White very carefully teleporting her a bit closer, trying to keep her comfortably in the 'not coughing up feathers and dying' radius without interrupting her too badly.      Only once Petra's in the safe zone does White refocus and quickly pinpoint the shards of shattered glass, not really cleaning up the drink but at least collecting the sharp and nearly invisible hazard before someone can find one with their foot. A nearby table gets them heaped up with subsequent teleportations, a faint little *clink, tink* of glass landing on glass audible. That spares Schneider some of the work, since it was kind of White's fault! Or at least, she thinks so.      Only then does she manage to work her way back to COMPLIMENTS! Okay, wow. This might be a first? She kind of figured this form would be more of a novelty than anything, but... Wahoo? She blinks like she's dumbfounded, then shifts her arm further around Angela, squeezing her slightly *too* tight for a moment while she halfway hands-on-hips poses, just to briefly appear a little proud. There's no big dumb grin on her face, but maybe that's a little much to ask from her still.      Angela gets un-squished and has a hand placed gently on her shoulder again, content to let her lean how she may; Angela can feel the secondary head turn slightly under her cheek, one nobbly little top-horn brushing the back of Angela's head as the spider-face's pupil-less eyes try and focus on her without moving too quickly. It doesn't seem like it's very hard at all for White to split attention like this! Even on her way in, she was looking at different places with each face. White finally speaks again after going back from 'proud' to 'dumbfounded' as she processes the rest of what Schneider said. "Confident? It's just... Familiar." Then, trailing off a little, she murmurs "Dumpling..." while remembering her 'agents', looking back at her own rear-end, and very slightly wiggling it. She did always eat a lot in this form. "... I don't mind. The girls... Tried to paint it, once. It isn't sensitive."      It isn't soft, as expected, but it's fairly warm and glossy-smooth between the ridges. Sort of like the outside of a mug of cocoa after it's sat cooling for a little while. She does wonder if maybe she should mind it a little more though... Well, it's not really her butt. It's fine. Anyone else who thinks about that is just weird, no need to listen to them.
Kukuru	"I'm a bit of a stereotype of telepaths . . . Can't you just *drink* up that atmosphere?" Even if Kukuru doesn't understand everything Flamel says, the way he says it and the context she's learned from being around him this long helps set her mind at ease. "Hmhmhm... Alriiiight, just as long as you're comfortable. The atmosphere here really is cozy around..." She trails off and gestures around almost everywhere, but notably doesn't circle the air around the people that are just here to watch the ticker. She knows who she likes. White patting Kukuru's head, predictably, gets her to hum pleasantly, leaning into her hand for as long as it's there, and then she waves lazily as White excuses herself. Kukuru does look on after she goes for a bit, though, to make sure nobody's following her. "a looming war . . . machinations of their various parents" "A big fight with so many people? But if they're in love, then their families should be stopping, right? Mmn... That's such a sad place to stop the story at." Kukuru pouts slightly, tapping a finger against her chin and finally remembering to take a few sips from her potion. "Are you gonnaaaa... Continue the story sometime, then? I bet there's plenty of people that want to see how it all ends, right?" "Who cares, my-lady?" The more Schneider speaks, the more Kukuru finds herself fawning over her all over again, being in public be damned. "Oh...! How are you so good like this, Schneider?" Laughing softly, she  before sighing contently and bobbing her head from side to side. "Mhm, mhm... Hm? Oh, I can be as loud or as quiet as you'd like~" She pauses, then looks slightly aside as she starts to catch some movement from where White's coming in from. "Well... As long as you're not biting the horns. They're sensitive to aaaall kinds of things." She helpfully notes to Schneider, giggling again in just a Kukuru-y enough way that's it not clear if she's hinting at something or being completely literal there. When White returns, meanwhile, Kukuru's eyes widen, gleaming a bit when she realizes precisely what she's seeing. "Oh.. Oh, that's gorgeous. Your eyes..." She murmurs aloud, the vibes in her heart not matching the vibes from the clientele as well as she'd like. Before she can move to address them personally, however, Schneider's drawn their attention with the shattered glass, and that gets a heartfelt "Thank you" from Kukuru. Still being a bit slow on her feet, especially with some of that potion in her already, Kukuru eventually shuffles over to White to marvel at her spider body. "There's so much more space to nap on here... Aaaah, White, White, Whiiite. May I?" She gestures vaguely towards the gigantic all of White's spider body, looking directly into the eyes of the face she's never seen until now. "So bright and shiny... Eh? A dumpling? " Kukuru looks over at Schneider and Druvis with another giggle, dabbing at her mouth briefly with a handkerchief after being reminded of food. "A sweet dumpling, mhm... Like the ones made of that sweet, fluffy rice~"
Petra Soroka	"You are forced, by such demands and such eyes, to label yourself one-way or an-oth-er..."     "Yeah." Petra rolls the thought around for a bit, twisting her glass between her fingers. "The fruit that Eve ate only gave us shame, and all of fashion emerged out of that. They're symbols with a purpose that's woven into them. People do everything possible to conceptualize you the moment that they see you, to remove the mental load of interpreting your actions through infinite possibilities instead of just the one they assume is correct.     Petra runs her fingers through her hair, briefly touching the collar with the golden lily on it. "I think I dress in more complicated symbols than just guys' clothes, but in the end, every single symbol you project is one that people interpret with meaning. I guess I just find value in using those meanings as they suit me-- I've started thinking of all clothing as 'costumes', to use people's assumptions to my benefit, either by communicating what I care about so loudly that they couldn't miss it, or just, like, lying."     She shrugs. "Ni povas elekti nur el tio, kion estas donitas al ni. I think refusing to choose rocks. I'd never tell a woman not to be naked."     Petra *has* seen White's Arachne form, but depending on how you measure it, it was either nearly a year ago, over a million years ago, ten thousand years ago, or one hundred million years ago. Seeing her in context with *indoors* is like a new experience all over again, and she straightens up in attention. She doesn't get a chance to greet her before she's teleported closer, and then, still sort of unfamiliar with how to interact with a person this shape, awkwardly pat-pats White's big ravioli abdomen.     "Oh. Thanks, White. I've actually been practicing with distance, as long as I'm focused, so you and Ange can go ahead and skitter around without thinking about me. I'll catch up if I need to. Have fun."
White	Kukuru's particular approach seems to deepen White's confusion a little more, and she finds herself looking back at the rest of her altered body like she's searching for some kind of hypnotic charm that might be the culprit. Evil Eye of Hypnosis isn't on either... Is Kukuru just elementally that similar to her lazier nieces? They, especially Fiel, kept climbing her too. "It's... Fine, Miss Kukuru. Just, please don't bite me." The talk of rice after dumplings makes her just a liiiittle suspicious, and Kukuru is just barely close enough to 'comic relief' in White's mental records that she isn't completely impossible to imagine zoning out and trying to chew on her.      Even Petra wants to pat! Is this just a way for everyone to work out their tactile repressions? Has nobody here ever owned a stress ball? The world, and more importantly White, may never know! ... But if it makes people happy, oh well. Petra's encouragement is noted with a small nod, though White still seems *slightly* uncertain. "It would be... Weird, to run around... At a party, too much." As if she isn't already being weird. "I'm glad... You're safer now, though."
Kukuru	"Just, please don't bite me." "Aw, don't worry. I only bite with permission." Kukuru giggles again, giving White a gentle pat on the side while slowly getting back up to her feet. It's probably a good thing she means that, too, since a bite from those shark-ish teeth might really hurt if she tried! Her general posture and demeanor certainly hints a lot at the laziness, too, but how often does she actually get to sleep on anyone? Pretty often, actually, at least in the past few months. Maybe she's just been really lucky. Still smiling fondly, then looks from the spider-body's eyes to the human-body's eyes, glancing up and down several times to address white while still being uncertain how best to proceed. "Do you see better from up here or down here?"
Schneider Greco	Schneider sets down her pomegranate and pat-pat-pats White's spider-abdomen with open hands, at first just delighted like a child finding a new kind of fruit; then tries to seek out places where its texture might be less glossy-smooth and more squeezable; then, failing, gives herself to just trying to put her arms around as much of it as she can and give it a gentle hug-squeeze.      She was given the go-ahead! It's totally okay!      (Well, it's not really her butt. It's fine. Anyone else who thinks about that is just weird, no need to listen to them.)      What Schneider's thinking as she gives it one last light parting pat is of course unknowable.      "Isn't she ad-mir-a-ble, my-lady Kukuru?" Schneider says as she circles back to White's front, convincingly awestruck. "Such a body like porcelain; such eyes like pomegranate seeds, like gems... to-think I was deprived of her grandeur..."      As Kukuru begs White, Schneider puts an arm behind Kukuru's shoulders, then reeeeaaaches up high to put a hand atop her head from behind... just shy of her horns. Scritch, scritch, on the scalp just behind them.      "Oh, is Eve the one to blame...?" Schneider says to Petra with a tilt-lean of the bird-mask. But she says it lightly, indifferently. Of costumes: "I like this. My-lord, what is-it you are costumed as? Mhmhm, is it rude to ask? Do you pre-fer me to guess...?"      "What I am, I think ev-er-y-one can know." A little approving tilt of her head, of course, about nakedness.      "Ni povas elekti nur el tio, kion estas donitas al ni."      "Could... choose... only, given to?" If you know three-plus Romance languages, you can catch a word or two of that, but she can't get the thrust of it.      "Are you allowed to wear nothing before the final episode? Or when you aren't mid-transformation?"      "Would that I had trans-for-mations like La-dy White," Schneider half-laughs to Love, not understanding in the least. "No-one can call a spider indecent. Mmmmh, there are those who do their best to disallow it, but what say do they have over what goes on in the night?"
Angela	''My-lady, you look beautiful. And the word beautiful is underlined!'' "You have a good eye." Angela tells Schneider. She manages to rein in her smugness by about 50 percent but it's still pretty smug. But it's not a lingering smugness. She can have a good time. She can smile. She can be polite. She can set something aside. But it is a bit of effort right now to express these things even as determined she is to not let that ruin the day. Petra even came here so she could HAVE a good day. Moping is wasting it. So she's going to keep pushing on until the regrets are perfectly smothered. Of course maybe some of this, she thinks, is the liquor doign liquor things? She drinks more experimentally. She feels strangely tired again without the urge to close her eyes. Angela hesitates and then nods to Petra, though despite nodding so she isn't inclined to go running around like crazy all the same, but she can probably be a little less cautious about this particular floor. If Petra says it's fine, it's fine. Angela is less invincible outside of the Library and also less invincible in general lately, but she is starting to feel a little giddy with this closeness to White. ''The girls...Tried to paint it, once.'' Angela's eyes slant towards the spiderhead. She imagines those goofy little paintings on White's head and blinks her eyes a few times. She finishes her beverage. ''Continue the story sometime, then?'' Bong-Bong, compelely oblivious, says, "A wonderful idea, Kukuru, but we'd have to do some sort of timeskip or something to represent a different cast..." They work for the Library but they're mostly trying to procure local entertainment. ''Everybody patting White'' Angela succumbs to peer pressure and also pats the spider head and gives it a little kiss like she does for Harriet without thinking about it. #-1 FUNCTION (ASNI) NOT FOUND Angela says at this point. "I think...there may be an affect?" She isn't entirely sure but she doesn't think she'd do that normally right here right? She's all about privacy. ''Would that I had trans-for-mations like La-dy White.''r "I could turn into a dragon and you can ride on my back if you want." Love says guilelessly even though this isn't really about transformations but she does add, "You can wear whatever you want when you're riding a dragon. The police can't say anything. Well, they might scream a little."