Scene #1536:

Owner	Pose
Mizuki	Psyber would immediately notice something different about this particular stretch of land that would set it apart from all others he's encountered in Mizuki's world: it's humble, and genuinely so. Yes, the glacial, translucent steps that bring him from the warpgate to the grass would be every bit as whimsical as he would remember, but the house he sees when his foot would meet with the vine-coated stone steps before it would be... different. As the narrative voice would already have dictated, its planks are sodden and its window sills sunken; it is as something from a fairy tale, yes, but not the grandiose sort that previous visits might've hinted at. Its every inch looks worn, as though it and this whole landmass it were plucked from a forest well beyond the reach of time, but it is no worse off for it. The planks that hold it aloft of the ground would hold just as sturdily as the day the edifice was conceived, the lantern flickering above the entryway beckoning the angel closer. And if he answers that call, he would find himself before a door. There is a diamond-shaped aperture into the room beyond within its make, but it is latticed with black iron knots that obscure its visual even more than it might've been by the indigo curtain lying on the opposite side, so nothing can be seen. All too late would he notice a modest wooden plaque hung upon its knob, the words carved into it wrought in the same whimsical script he may yet remember from several of the Union reports Mizuki has submitted. Those words would kindly request the following: "Knock first." And what a mistake it would have been for a gentleman like himself to have thought that law any less than implicit in this situation! But at the very least, this should serve as a reminder. Yes, we'll call it that. He would see no sign of Mizuki as of now, but something tells him that she's hidden just beyond the door. That 'something' would not be limited to some magical inclination, however -- the telltale swishing of the curtains as some clandestine onlooker rushes from the scope of his vision would be quite enough.
Guest Psyber	Psyber had no reason not to respond to a summons from Mizuki. His incentive was divided equally between their friendship and his obligation to visit her in the wake of substantially damaging her self-image structure. As is his norm lately, Psyber has a very neutral and deatched expression on his face as he arrives at her personal residence. Red eyes flick towards the curtain to spot the swishing motion and note it briefly. His hand curls into a fist and he raises it. Knowing she's already there, the knocking is a formality. But the script requests it, and so he will abide. In this world of concepts and relationships, best to uphold the minor requests. His fingers rap at the door three times before his hand falls to his side.
Mizuki	For several moments, there's no reply. The angel is left to wait in the chilled, placid air of space for a spell amid absolute silence. He might wonder if this is her being mysterious she is wont to be, but a delay of several seconds might suggest otherwise. That subtle temporal offset might say instead that apprehension in earnest stays her hand. Is it because of Psyber himself, or is she hiding something? It's likely the latter, as she said the last time they had spoken she had some secrets to reveal. She had said it would be piecemeal, but perhaps this start will be a bit more bold than she'd intended on? Or if not that, at least it might feel so to her. Certainly it would seem the case as the woman holds her back to the door, hand firmly grasping the nod but not twisting in the least as she debates the options that she does not have. "Ps-Psyber." When her voice finally does penetrate that thick wooden slab that separates them, it arrives as a muffled, tremulous thing. Beyond that, though, it sounds... gentler - it lacks so much of its usual force, pomp, and severity that he might question for a moment whether this was Fenestra's voice rather than Mizuki's own. Still, his intuition would not falter here either, and he would know at the mention of the first syllable it is, in fact, her. It is unequivocal; unquestionable even when all logic should suggest otherwise that this is the woman he had come to see. Albeit, the one he still has not seen. From the other side would echo a low grumble as the lady clears her throat. "-Psyber-," She echoes, "I... trust you to maintain that same, austere expression that you have been wearing so oft in recent days when I reveal myself to you. Is that clear? And I trust you never to tell anyone beyond this campus of solemnity what it is you see here! ... you must promise!" Again, her voice would quiet. Softly, nervously, it would call again several moments later to note in addendum, "... the opening of this door is the sealing of a contract. An oath that you swear to uphold without so much as a gesture of your own. With this click, I lay a curse upon you! A curse that, should you defy any of these laws I've ordained, that I should never speak to you again! You... you have been amply warned." So he has, but what he sees next might surprise him even so. For it is not Mizuki that stands in the frame of the door as it slides open, but another person entirely. Her calm brown pupils are insulated from the oppression of the world's gaze by a pair of spectacles all too fitting upon her face, but it is not enough to keep her cheeks from flaring up the moment she knows she's been spotted. Her gaze would dart to some indeterminate position on the floor, carrying with this gesture a wave of locks that match her eyes. She has always been small when compared to Psyber, to be sure, but somehow she seems to have shrunken even further now -- though, more likely, this is just the effect her shy gestures would evoke. "Th-This..." She is quivering, and must stop at one point to collect herself with a swallow. "... this is the form I occupied before coming to the Multiverse. The one I only wear around my closest friends when I do not need to wear my mantles of intimidation. A-And I suppose..." She would pause just a second longer, "... that, if I am going to attempt honesty with you, this is the only appropriate way to begin." (Mizuki's form would appear like so, for reference: http://tinyurl.com/pl668os )
Guest Psyber	To Psyber's credit, the complete neutrality on his face manages to hold through all her cautions. He blinks several times and says in a somewhat monotone voice, "Yes, I understand. For numerous reasons, I respect discretion in relation to the true nature of names and appearances. I have no incentive and nothing to gain from betraying your confidence, while a great deal to lose by breaching your confidence to betray you during your initial steps of emotional formation." A reassurance deliverd as the door clicks and then opens to reveal the girl. He gives her a somewhat appraising look, but one of detached expressionlessness. He nods a moment later and says, "I understand the emotional weight behind revealing this form to me. I have little to offer you in exchange for sharing such a secret, but can offer one secret in barter that would be of equivalent value. It would require the likewise assurance on your part that you would not share it. It would place us in a place of mutual secrecy." He blinks several times and asks her, "Do you wish to know my true name?"
Mizuki	Mizuki didn't know what to expect when she opened that door. A cool smile? A pat on the shoulder? Him to strike a match and light a cigar, stick his hands in his pockets, and play the cool guy? Any of those things - any of them - before what she just heard. Her hand hangs limply on the door's knob, and her eyes become stuck in some wide, wide rapture from whence they do not return even when her stammering voice returns. When it does, though, it would likely be incomprehensible to him: "S-Shiori." Mercifully, she soon explains. "... m-my... my first name. It's Shiori. My full name is Shiori Mizuki." She swallows hard, her hand finally falling to her side. "... its kanji mean 'poem' and 'weave'. Mizuki's kanji mean 'beautiful moon'. As such, I fancy my name's meaning to be 'poem weaver of the beautiful moon'." She would squeeze her eyes shut. "... I only thought it fair to tell you as much, since you are willing to entrust me with something so... valuable." She takes a deep breath and slowly, gradually exhales. Her left hand clamps tightly around her opposite wrist and she continues, unsteady as ever. "... you may interpret this as my agreement. Th-That is, I will not share what you tell me with another soul within the boundaries of Creation. Beyond, perhaps, if I am ever deemed fit to linger in the realms that lie beyond its rational fabric, but..." She would shake her head. "... I digress. I would be deeply humbled, yes. But, first." She would finally retreat from the doorway, gesturing for him to enter. A simple, antiquated couch of faded but eminently comfortable cloth set upon wood would lie just inside. Just before it is... a television? A distinctly modern one with a flat screen. It seems heavily achromatic with its surroundings, but nevertheless, it has somehow found its way here. Perhaps... perhaps Mizuki is a bit more modern than she lets on? "Have a seat, if you wish. Even if I am attempting some degree of looseness today, I would never wish to treat a guest poorly." Mischievously she would smile and add, "Not even if it was you."
Guest Psyber	Nope! You might expect that Psyber, and even be weirded out by a lack of that Psyber. This is totally not that Psyber. Eerily monotone and calm is what you get instead. Psyber places his hands into his pockets and nods, "Shiori Mizuki. I see." Psyber then steps in and looks at her, finding a seat and then sitting down, "The core names that comprise my full name are 'Beloved' 'Who is Like God' and 'Bright'. These names were bestowed upon me early in my life and make up the closest thing to a real name I have, though I have used many aliases." He folds his hands into his lap, "My full name is David Michael Sinclair, son of a human and an angel," He says to her pretty monotone. "And do not pay much mind to any breach in hospitality you may perceive. I assure you I infer no rudeness from it. I more attributed it to your currently shaken emotional state."
Mizuki	Mizuki smiles to Psyber briefly, a nod only coming several moments later when she's had time to process the name for herself. Does it suit him...? She studies his facial features, his suit, his hair... she compares everything she knows about him to what she's heard. "It's fitting," She ultimately decides, ending on a final, more decisive nod. Hearing it seems to unlock something in her, though, the terror racking her being diluting all of a sudden into something like tempered caution, or optimism. She still quivers - oh, certainly she does - but it would seem any doubt that lingered in her mind has gone. Perhaps because of this she's reduced to a somewhat awkward silence wherein she twiddles her thumbs and lets her eyes skate about the room. "Um..." She would swallow deeply again as some of that nervousness resurfaces, if only for a moment. "While... we're doing the 'honesty' thing, I guess I'll admit that I don't naturally talk the way you've heard me talking." Already what she means would be evident -- the voice she speaks with now is extremely loose, free, clear; enough to throw him off again, but he's likely become used to it by now if it does. "I... u-uh. The way I talk, with the analogies and the big, fancy vocabulary... that's all a part of the persona, too. Palora's actually been really good about keeping that secret, but this is more how I would talk with her. Just, simple... clean." Her gaze would wander to the window for a moment where she studies the stars. "It's actually a little hard keeping it up sometimes. Like, you might've noticed when some contractions slipped in there... or when it fell apart when you made me nervous there..." Her hands, which had been resting on her legs, ball into fists. After another moment of hesitation, her voice would whisp, "... I must be a really bad actress, huh. Y-You knew right away... I didn't think I was so shallow..." She would shift uncomfortably for several moments more, scrunching up a section of her skirt with her hands. "To tell you the truth, though...?" Her gaze would finally meet with his again, if he allows it to. "I do a lot of it to make people like me more, yeah, but even more of it... even more of it is to own up to an expectation I created. I've... lived before. Lived and died. That's how I knew who Apathy was in the very beginning. See, Silent Night and the Clock Tower are the only things she can't destroy, so my past selves left records of their lives there. I learned... everything from them. How to look, how to act, even how to feel... I'm like the living legacy of a whole ton of other people, so I try really, really hard to be as wise, and kind, and beautiful as they must've been, but..." Her eyes would dart away again. "... i-it's... a lot of pressure."
Mizuki	She draws in another breath before continuing. "... and not to make assumptions or whatever, but you... you don't need to tell me I can be my own person, and that I don't need to be who I was before. I -know- that, but it just... doesn't feel right letting them go like that, you know? It's all I've ever known, and it sorta feels like I'm abandoning them. It feels like they will all really die for real if I don't keep acting how I do." She would look to him again, troubled. "... i-is that stupid? It's stupid, isn't it?" Her hands meander back to her lap where they fuss with one another, nails clinking against nails as the girl's eyes seem to... moisten. Just slightly, but it's impossible to the tears once they've been seen. "I mean... it's not -all- an act. I really do like books, and poems, and melancholy. I just... I wish I actually -was- an author, I guess. I wish I could write as well as all those 'me's from the past, or that I had some talent. All the stuff I can do, I do just because I willed it to happen. Even if it's impressive to other people I feel so... so useless. I didn't really realize that until I came into the Multiverse, but... I do. I feel helpless. And --." She would look to Psyber fully again. The liquid glint at the corners of her eyes is plain as the light of day upon her now. "I have... I have -friends-, now. I have things that I actually care about saving. I've lived four hundred years this way, but I'm still such a little kid. That's why I really want to learn from you and Homura and Arthur, I guess. It's not because I want to -emulate- you, but you seem so... experienced. Like you've seen so much. I..." She squeezes her eyes shut yet again. "... I want to be like that, too. I want to be like that so I can help you. Just like I said before, I want to make it all okay. Even if that's way more than I should ever wish for...! If I can't give you heaven, then can't I at least give you peace of mind...?" Her gaze would linger several moments yet until, finally, her head slowly falls. She's left staring at the wool of the couch now, utterly silent. When they do come, her words are little more than a whisper. "... I'm sorry. That's probably a whole lot to take in, but... but... that's all. Really, that's all. I just want to be a good friend and I don't know how..."