Scene #9753: Where We Belong

Owner	Pose
Team Timekeeper	The past two, nearly three, months, have seen the Suitcase held captive in a number of different ways, available but just out of reach. First the Manus held it at that dinner in the Walden, then the Foundation locked it up for review when the Timekeeper returned from the Storm of 1929. The rebellion seized it back, on Foundation grounds but in occupied territory, and when it ended, it was taken for evidence until Druvis retrieved it again. It's the longest time Lilian's gone without going into the Suitcase since meeting Vertin, and the longest time without Vertin entering it since receiving it. Now, until she can replace the buckle broken to ensure the rebellion's safety, it's held closed by tape when she carries it. The stairs down are just like Lilian remembers them. Returning to them, it almost feels like the descent is reminiscent of entering Vertin's mindscape, rather than the other way around; as if the manor on the other side is the conscious construct shaping Vertin's psyche and the dreams were an induced irregularity. It isn't, of course-- Regulus can attest that the interior of the Suitcase continued existing exactly as they were during the course of Vertin's coma. Still, the Timekeeper's domain is an organism taking its first deep breaths in ages, life just beginning to buzz in its veins again, with Lilian as one fragment of that ecosystem. Opening the door, Vertin's sat at the table in the familiar sunroom. The light from the Wilderness floods through the ivy-dappled wall of glass, door outside open to let in the fresh earthy air. It's just a small end table, only big enough for two with as many chairs, set with nothing but a bouquet of pink and blue flowers, and an alembic brewing tea. In addition to Vertin, Regulus and Sonetto are in the room, but not for long. Regulus is moving furniture to clear out the center of the room, while wearing a proper butler's outfit with a splash of red and purple, and no goofy hat or sunglasses. Sonetto, meanwhile, skips in from the kitchen wearing a grey and white checkered traditional maid outfit, bringing a tray with two cups and saucers to place on the table. After a short greeting to Lilian, she picks up the crutches that are leaning against Vertin's chair, and vacates the room along with Regulus. Vertin's in an outfit too, though it's more similar to what she usually wears. An Edwardian-era suit with a tailcoat draped over her shoulders, lacy sleeves stopping short of her half-gloves, shiny men's shoes and strikingly blue socks that match the coat and the ribbon on her hat, as well as the flowers on the table. Vertin smiles when Lilian comes in. The tea-alembic, either by magical or mechanical sensing, reaches temperature and time, and the glass swings on a hinge to drain into a teapot, letting a steam out to curl through a spiral of glass piping. Their voice is scratchy and soft, not fully healed from the comatose intubations, but markedly better than the day they woke up. "Welcome in, Lilian. Please sit down. I've got a pot of Da Hong Pao here, but if you'd like anything less strong, I'll have Sonetto fetch it."
Lilian Rook	The second to last Sunday is Lilian's group for Paladins Elite corps general meetings. Her tradition is to exit those straight into a stiff drink and a whole lot of nothing, but after the Kepler trip, her psych eval falls on this day too, which usually has a habit of leaving her feeling antsy. She had to finish her report submission for last week by last night instead, and cram for quarterly Fixer reviews before it sneaks up on her, so a social call is sort of the last thing she has time for, and something she clings to like a life raft after a draining shipwreck of a day. She expected the staircase to provoke memories of Flamel's last second psychoportal maneuver. She'd thought of it before even approaching the suitcase. What happens instead is a quick glance behind her on the way down, and muted surprise at not seeing the ceiling of a ward room instead. . . . . . . . . Lilian, arriving in her Paladins semi-formal, only stripped of the olive and silver outerwear until she reaches, roughly, 'office lady on break', already expected to feel a little out of place in the mansion that she remembers. A bracing breath at the entrance to the gorgeous sunroom puts her mind at ease on that front. Even seen only through the windows, seeing that garden again, roughly as it was, brings back memories of silly parties and long night walks, and nothing of anything since. The 'permanence' of it all is so mysteriously reassuring that she arrives into the sitting area with a little bit of excitement. Then the sheer degree to which she stands out strikes her. Lilian stops dead at the sight of Regulus dressed as a butler, then upon opening her mouth to ask how Vertin got her to do it, pauses before saying a thing at how the Timekeeper is dressed too. Curling her fingers closed to press against her lips, Lilian closes her mouth, thinks for a moment, wide-eyed, then tries pointing down the corridor Regulus had just gone, only for Sonetto to show up, dressed as a maid, and then all she can do is cough into the back of her hand and take the time she needs to recover. 'Welcome in, Lilian. Please sit down. I've got a pot of Da Hong Pao here, but if you'd like anything less strong, I'll have Sonetto fetch it.' "Strong is fine!" Lilian says, putting up her hands first to deflect more Maid Sonetto, then because that actually does sound good. Looking left and right as if she's about to cross the street, she moves to the closest chair with a string of smart heel clicks and settles herself in on the second try, like it might somehow be the 'wrong' one. "Is there a special occasion today?" she says. "Some sort of arcanist holiday? A Foundation fundraiser?" She nearly gets to 'what did they tell you?' before the alembic seizes her attention, and the short-lived flash of fascination disrupts the thought. "How are you feeling?" says Lilian. "And I know you're going to tell me that you're fine, so I'll amend it to 'in general'." She eyes the crutches, but doesn't fuss. "I'm glad to see that they're taking care of you. I suppose they're likely glad to finally have the opportunity to, as well."
Team Timekeeper	"Is there a special occasion today?" Vertin pauses for a moment while Lilian stop-start skitters her way into the only other chair that hasn't been moved out of the way, wondering whether to repeat the invitation to be more explicit or not. When she ends up settling in at her own pace, though, they lean back in their chair, satisfied. "I've been busy meeting with regulatory and logistical personnel daily since Thursday. Madam Z is coming by the Suitcase tonight with a troupe of committee members that have an interest in inspecting the Suitcase they voted to be Foundation-adjunct-- none have seen inside before, and strong presentation ought to start my team off with a heavy dose of good will." Vertin slides the teapot out of its metal claw holder in the alembic, pouring for herself and Lilian while it's still piping hot. "I wanted to be sure to talk with you before the suits come around." "I suppose they're likely glad to finally have the opportunity to, as well." "They're positively falling over themselves," Vertin exhales in a silent laugh, ripping the surface of her tea before taking a sip. "I suppose I'm just short enough of 'fine' to allow them, but really I'm alright. The LRC estimates six weeks of physical therapy, and no lasting effects besides." Despite implying some vague time limit ('tonight', at least, being several hours away at minimum), Vertin's in no rush to get their conversation to any specific point. Going quiet to enjoy the expensive tea for a minute, there's the faint sound of wooden floorboards creaking above the sunroom, where Lilian knows one of the many bedroom-lined hallways to be. Outside in the flowers by the treeline, La Source and Rabies are having a mute and probably unintelligible conversation over a butterfly. "How have these past months been to you? I'm glad to hear you and Madam Z got on-- she's had nothing but good to say about you as well, grousing about how the case kept her too busy to discuss your research-- but I'm sure you had challenges to face while I was out as well. We haven't had a chance to speak in private since the Storm." The excess furniture has been moved up against the walls, but the furniture that was already arranged on the edges of the room is still there. The display case has always been there, lined with Vertin's esoteric collection of books and art, and relics gathered from every era: photographs, records, even stuffed animals. Perched on the edge of a shelf, understated but visible whenever your eyes track over to the stand-up nixie tube clock in the corner of the room, is a folded red feather dress under a pair of guns, with a large metal ring beside it. Probably, that was always there, just blending into the temporal graveyard of Vertin's collection. "Have you been well?"
Lilian Rook	'I've been busy meeting with regulatory and logistical personnel daily since Thursday.' "Christ almighty, you'd think those buzzards could give you a day off." Lilian says. Then she laughs, quietly, in that way that means she's sharing the feeling 'but it's never that easy', and then it's almost like nothing had eeery happened at all. She folds one leg over the other, puts her hands together on her knee, and then leans back into the chair enough that she can't keep them there. "Z will be a lovely treat. As for the rest, well, I suppose all of that kitchen cleaning routine is about to come in handy. I'll hope the bears are properly squared away. Not that those pencil pushers would be caught dead near a forest." 'I wanted to be sure to talk with you before the suits come around.' Lilian's fascination with the Tea Contraption is perhaps a bit childish in its earnestness. "Hmm? Ah, because of the admentment to the Bill?" she says, sounding terribly distracted. 'They're positively falling over themselves,' Lilian smiles. "Knew they would be." She pauses, just to gently blow on her tea once, out of habit, and then tilt the cup back in her insufferably posh way. She breathes out almost as if it'd been a cold beer. "It's gratifying to hear that there'll be no lasting effects at least. It's the least they can make certain of after ordering it. I'm not familiar with this sort of thing, so it had passed through my mind at some point." 'How have these past months been to you? I'm glad to hear you and Madam Z got on-- she's had nothing but good to say about you as well, grousing about how the case kept her too busy to discuss your research-- but I'm sure you had challenges to face while I was out as well.' Even if she knows it's only small talk, Lilian is happy to indulge it. The opportunity feels like such an absurd luxury that if she didn't force herself to relax then she'd be obsessed with the seconds slipping away until it's gone. It's fortunate that Madam Z gets to be a happy topic for her. "I wouldn't say they've been kind to me, but I wasn't forced to camp out on the Foundation's metaphorical lawn for two months, so I feel as if I shouldn't complain." she says, conversational for the time being. "The Foundation is a heavy stone to move, after all. And some personal business has been . . . touch and go. My schedule is still much more of a mess than I prefer, but . . ." "She's an absolute sweetheart, isn't she?" Lilian smiles, deciding to switch topics. "And far more charitable than I would have imagined for someone with her rank and intelligence. I know you and I tend to get on well, but I never expected so much goodwill from anyone there." Taking her time with her tea, Lilian even continues on to, "I hadn't realized she was all that interested in my research. We didn't really speak of arcanum very much. It only very briefly came up while speaking with Katz." She had first been jarringly reminded of the second-most up to date Lilian in Vertin's mind while welcoming her back over the radio. Being reminded a second time doesn't evoke the mild social panic of the first, but it compels her to spend more time on her tea and less on chatting, letting her eyes roam around the room to once again take in Vertin's bold statement rendered in so many subtle displays. At one point, Lilian's eyes stop moving, lose focus, and drift down and away. 'Have you been well?' An answer comes to Lilian's lips automatically. "Well enough." rings hollow in her ears before she has time to process anything else. The fake half-smile freezes on her face as she notices it.
Lilian Rook	There are points of light in her recollection. A cute date. A casual cruise. Pleasant strangers. Sandcastles on the beach. But she knows the question that Vertin is really asking, and Vertin knows her too well to think she doesn't. She could question whether Vertin means to repeat it, or whether it's the post-coma amnesia talking, but that'd be pointless. The war. Iðunn. Kepler. Dictum. Her condition. Mesmer. The trial. The incident. Marian. Paupers fuck off. "I've made some mistakes. Not all of them were my fault." says Lilian. Her eyes drift all the way down into her tea. Her voice lowers. "People have tried to be kind to me, but they can't change anything. I've just about run out of options but to turn to the ones who hate me instead. Nothing I've done for anyone has worked out as I'd hoped. I'm tired of secrets, but I've just made more to keep in the end. I think the worst people expect a lot from me, and nobody else expects much at all." "I think I feel a little useless. Somehow politicized and invisible at the same time." The urge to stop comes and goes. The struggle barely reaches her lips. "I think I must not be a very good person; but some days I feel like I'm the only normal one. I wish I had a little more restraint. I wish everything affected me as little as it seems to affect everyone else. I wish things could just be solved and stay solved. I wish anyone needed me for anything. They're all just being nice because it's symbolic. Like hanging a lucky horseshoe." Lilian abruptly clears her throat, glancing back up at Vertin. "Beg pardon. I went on. Nothing is currently on fire, if that's what you're asking."
Team Timekeeper	Noticing Lilian's attention to the alembic brewer, Vertin fondly exposits for her entertainment. "It was a gift from an alchemist I met in 1957. She was more interested in brewing moonshine than tea, but rigged it up from spare parts the night we met. I believe it's enchanted to balance the concentration of dissolved compounds in the brew, absorbing the waste heat to convert back into arcane energy. I wasn't able to grasp its mechanisms perfectly myself; I'd likely have to ask X for a full explanation." "It's the least they can make certain of after ordering it." "It would be frustrating to be laid low by unintentional medical neglect, of all things. I grilled the Trauma Department to be sure of it." It's Lilian to whom Vertin can actually express a trace of the genuine worry they'd had about the lasting physical complications of the coma. Even in crutches, the Timekeeper remains invincible to most of her crew, but there's no such image to be had after the Walden. "Even still, it's useful to be nearly unfit for field operations at the moment. I have a lot of work to do in settig up Team Timekeeper, both politically and logistically, and I'd hate to be interrupted by being expected to walk someplace." ". . . so I feel as if I shouldn't complain." "I wouldn't bother comparing," Vertin asides, over the rim of their teacup. "You could just as easily say that Sonetto got to sleep in her own bed and continue her work as usual, but we both know she worked harder than anyone. I'll have to find a way to treat everyone as thanks to make up for the difficulty." "I hadn't realized she was all that interested in my research." "Goodness." Vertin laughs again. "You really were busy. I'm shocked she didn't share the story in the gaps between her pen strokes." "As she tells it, she never intended on being a politician. Before that, she was a lead researcher in quantum mechanics at Laplace, ending up in the position she did for a lack of level-headed personnel after the Storm. It's no surprise to me that the two of you would get along, given that." "Well enough." The lower half of Vertin's face is hidden by the outline of her cup. Her gaze is on Lilian, silently leaving space for her to continue, and to process all the memories that flit across her face. "Beg pardon. I went on." Sometime during Lilian's response, Vertin's tea quietly clicked back onto its saucer, and her whole body shifted in her chair to swivel to face her directly. When Lilian looks back to her, grey-green eyes stare steadily back, elbow braced on the table and knuckles curled in front of her mouth. The expression on her face would be hard to read for most people, but to Lilian it comes off like 'quiet desperation'. "No," She shakes her head shortly first, to Lilian's apology, then follows up with "Thank you."
Team Timekeeper	The pause until Vertin continues is only long enough for them to compose their own thoughts, and not enough for Lilian to start doubting her choice to open up. "You're not alone. If there's one thing I'd like my project here to convince you of, it's that." "You're not the only one who's hoping for salvation from the world, frustrated by actions not resulting in consequences that make sense. But you are one of the few I can rely on having a vision of how else it can be." Vertin folds her arms down on the table, leaning against it. "I've already received a dozen applications for Team Timekeeper, and by the end of the year, I expect several dozen more. Growing this rapidly, in an unformed space, has the potential to set a new precedent for every part of this new community, for good or ill-- that's why I'm actually quite glad Madam Z placed you as the Paladins liason. To have Team Timekeeper established with you as a presumption in its creation anchors the precedent that you're a part of it-- the same goes for Sonetto, Regulus, and Mr. Karson, in quadrants of different ways." "It's my hope," They go on, a little breathless and overworking their voice, "To have every resident here describe this place as 'stable'. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I believe that would be a weight off your mind." Vertin makes a motion like she's considering getting to her feet, then decides against it, picking her teacup up instead. "I'd like to introduce you to all the others at some point. But as of now, let me say officially: welcome to Team Timekeeper, Lilian, and to a home to which you may always return. If there's anything you'd like for your room and can't get yourself, you can let Sonetto or me know at any time."
Lilian Rook	Lilian, who had no preexisting interest in the brewing process of any drink, who appreciates tea most for the fact that her wife makes it, and who has no idea why anyone would insist on magically automatic this part in such a fanciful way, is utterly fascinated by the explanation. 'Moonshine' makes her laugh. Hearing X's name makes her even more amused than that. "He did seem to have a fondness for this sort of thing." 'It would be frustrating to be laid low by unintentional medical neglect, of all things. I grilled the Trauma Department to be sure of it.' Lilian works harder to keep these feelings off her face than the others. When she means to, she succeeds, but it's a notable gap in her otherwise animated expression. "The world is a frightening and very unfair place. I'm unspeakably glad that it decided this much was enough, and between you and I, it's relieving to hear that you asked." She won't say outright that Vertin's awareness of her own mortality, fragile and arbitrary as it is for everyone, is an incredibly reassuring quality to her, but it's probably readable. 'You could just as easily say that Sonetto got to sleep in her own bed and continue her work as usual, but we both know she worked harder than anyone.' "Goodness did she ever." Lilian sighs, returning to her tea, savouring each sip as she listens. 'Goodness. You really were busy. I'm shocked she didn't share the story in the gaps between her pen strokes.' Another fascinating story to absorb. Perhaps less so that a magical brewing machine from 1937, but interesting in its own, pragmatic way. The intrigue is obvious when she says "I see. Off the record, I had wondered how someone like her made Chief of Personnel." She says it like a compliment. She could mean 'arcanist' or 'empathetic and canny' or both. 'You're not alone. If there's one thing I'd like my project here to convince you of, it's that.' How much she'd like to believe that. How frustrating that the likes of Mesmer, of Forget-Me-Not, know more. How little good it would do to voice the wish that still smoulders somewhere in her chest, dulled for the Foundation's unexpected reasonability, even hospitality, but not entirely extinguished. 'But you are one of the few I can rely on having a vision of how else it can be.' But out of all the things that Vertin has said to Lilian, about Lilian, that one is by far the easiest to believe. Like hearing the countersign from the informant, like the magic words that solve everything, Lilian breathes out, holds the saucer against her lap, and tilts her head slightly to the side; listening posture, eyes attentive. 'Growing this rapidly, in an unformed space, has the potential to set a new precedent for every part of this new community, for good or ill--' "Goodness. Aren't we popular?" Lilian says, subvocalizing a laugh at her own bracing pleasantry. "A precedent as an 'arcanist community', you mean. It's good to think about it early. If you aren't prepared to cultivate a deliberate culture, others will cultivate one for you. Cliques, hierarchies, prejudices; the overton window, the bar of acceptability, the wall of silence; I'm certain you know." 'that's why I'm actually quite glad Madam Z placed you as the Paladins liason.' Now she'd be embarrassed admitting that she improvised it on the spot and Madam Z played it all the way into the goal. She laughs uneasily, buying a little time with a shake of her head and a disbelieving "Quadrants again . . .", but she can't stop it from sinking in; only slow it. "Between the Foundation's shining star, a former criminal on the run, a human who loves arcanists, and a 'pure blooded' woman of standing."
Lilian Rook	"There's a certain sort of social soft power that comes from institutional praise and acceptance, but there's another kind of clout that comes from real-world experience of resistance; and there's no denying the implicit power that humans have to judge and make expecctations, so I suppose we're rounding it out with the power to reaffirm and reject that comes with being a 'prestige' arcanist." Lilian works it out before she even finishes speaking. "Perhaps I was slightly hasty. I see the design now. Bellwhistle as Regulus, Doris and Margaret and Evie with Karson, the girls joining from the Foundation lie with Sonetto, and I align with Druvis. You're crafty." There's no point in keeping the thought to herself. "Beg pardon if I'm being presumptuous, but you're usually put at ease rather than put off when I say it." 'It' being the tacit truth is a more complicated messiah than she lets on. 'It' being that she may as well have said loyalists, rebels, human allies, and inconvenient truths. 'Tell me if I'm wrong, but I believe that would be a weight off your mind.' "As many heated words as I've said on the subject of stability, I prefer it to chaos, and greatly prefer it to ambiguity." Lilian says. "I'll do my best not to be too hard on anyone." She was prepared to wrap it up at that. 'But as of now, let me say officially: welcome to Team Timekeeper, Lilian, and to a home to which you may always return.' Of course, she already knew she was 'on' Team Timekeeper. It was in the paperwork she signed. Another plate to spin, added to the crowd that always seems to grow slightly faster than her talent at balancing them. Even though it'd been a tactic to convince doubtful human leadership, selfishly, she had dug her claws into the one way she saw to justify her continued presence near Vertin and the others, and merely expected to handle the fallout as the price to pay for staying inside the circle. Hearing it from Vertin hits her in a very different way. Lilian is sent back to the very first time she'd heard words like those, and how they had changed her life. She tries, for a little while, to think of some witty way to describe that, back then, it'd been people who didn't see her differently from anyone else, and this time, it's someone who knows every reason she shouldn't say them. Lilian gives up on them before long. The weight of it defies her efforts to neatly summarize anything, and the intrinsically personal web of feelings is too far-scattered to gather up anyways. So she settles for ignoring the slight tightness in her throat and the little bit of heat in her cheeks when she say "Then I'll do my best to make myself at home. If anything comes up, I'll ask straight away. So don't be shy to ask me in return, alright?"