Scene #8459: She Speaks To Me

Owner	Pose
Angela	By the general vibes over the Banter channel and general expectation of how in depth attachment work tends to go with Abnormalities, Angela has the feeling that Meika's visit with the Magical Girl of Courage did not actually go so well. You might think that Angela might feel like saying 'I told you so' over things like that, and she does kind of, but she also was sort of rooting for Meika. She shouldn't have been. Energy gains will be better (and her job easier) if the Servant of Wrath continues to generate the levels of Enkephalin a HE Abnormality typically provides rather than sitting around just beingg passively dangerous like a ZAYIN. Maybe she was getting second thoughts. Many people have secretly wished for a hero And the King of Greed is still communicating with her which is an element that she has elected to ignore for the time being. So when Meika asked to visit again, Angela was as surprised as anyone. Angela also was also concerned about this dinner with her three of her favorite people. She hadn't had 'a dinner' before for obvious reasons and so she wasn't entirely certain she could provide one up to the Dame Commander's pedigree--let alone Persephone or, gosh, Petra so she thought--Meika is a normal human, she probably knows how to conduct dinners. She may have even eaten a food. And so Angela agreed to the request though she noted she had a favor of her own this time--nothing major. The Warpgate is open for Meika. Visitors are common enough at this point that she just gets a few waves. Parker even perkily says, "She's in Central!" as if they all knew why Meika was coming this time. Angela didn't tell them. It's just getting harder to keep the secrets. Central is in the center of the complex and is uncharacteristically brightly lit with a largely golden and red color scheme. Angela is presently waiting outside of Her Bathtub--there aren't too many Abnormalities down here yet besides Her Bathtub and King of Greed and Angela is staying away from King of Greed.
Meika Kirenai	For once, that Angela has seen, Meika isn't dressed in her monochrome school uniform. Nor is she adorned in the raiment of a magical girl. When she steps through the warpgate, and later out of the elevator, she's in a grey plaid dress, down past her knees, and a black long-sleeved shirt underneath it, a quantity of layers in excess of what suits her hometown's heat- and, additionally, the only trait of her outfit that is at all in accordance with Meika's usual apperance. Boots have been swapped for slightly-shiny loafers, thick-knit white socks barely long enough to cover up a years-old scar, curled around her shin. Despite being objectively a nice-enough outfit, the way her posture hunches, and her arms cross in front of her chest, suggests she'd rather be in her more typical, uncoordinated uniform. Her bookbag's strap is a lifeline of where to wrap fingers around, to do anything not to fidget more. Sundays come with limited time. She'll have to get home, lest anyone really get worried, but there's enough of a gap, called off from work, that nobody should worry. She told Kayoko, too- best not to risk more, so soon. And I'm doing some sort of favor, anyways. So there's good being done, of some kind. That's supposed to make it better. 'She's in Central!' Awkward and stilted, Meika nods to Parker, and mumbles out a "..Thanks." Is she scared? Are the others scared? They're waving. Are they just trying to be nice so I don't notice? Her pace is rushed, click-clacking through hallways to the elevator, and once inside, she slams buttons far too forcefully. Doors close, her breath escapes, and she deflates. If only for a short, unseen moment. Central's bright, ostentatious decoration causes Meika to sit, stunned, when the doors open. She goes straight towards where Angela is waiting, nervous glances side to side, worried about whatever possible overlookers there might be. Last time, she got to talk in relative peace. Who knows about not. "...Miss Angela. I... um. Thanks. For letting me stop by." Just as stilted and shifty as her posture. She forces her hands to clasp one another, and stay down and out in front of her. Knuckles beneath band-aids squeeze tight enough to turn white. "...I'm sorry for messing things up another time." Meika just assumes she'd gotten word of the events at the branch office. Or seen, or heard from the get-go. And she ought to feel sorry, anyways, for bringing reckless topics to public radios. "...I've... still got some of the same questions. About stories, and..... abnormalities. But you wanted a favor done, right?" A deep breath in. "That comes first."
Angela	Parker, with the mask, is tough to read. They also speak pretty perkily though they did have a bad interaction with Agent in Black not so long ago that suggests what is stapled to her face is not always what she really feels--both literally and metaphorically. The other Agents are as varied as in any other workplace. Some are honestly happy to see Meika, some are just pretending, some aren't even pretending. The Clerks in general are pretty friendly though, the Outsiders seem to care about the clerks in ways they are starting to remember is a thing. Angela is about to answer Meika but Meika preempts her by telling her to ask for her favor first. "Ah, yes." Angela takes a breath. "If you insist. I wanted to ask you about ... dinners. I have never had a dinner before and while the Dame Commander seems to be handling the food, dinners are--another element Outsiders often engage in that I am unfamiliar with. I do not know what they are planning but I do not wish to be a bad host. If you have any advice, I would appreciate it Miss Meika." She wonders if she should be accepting Meika's apology or admitting that she has no idea why Meika is apologizing. She hadn't heard of a breach or anything and she has, to be completely honest, no idea of Catt's existence.
Meika Kirenai	At least some of the people watching, as she traverses the facility, don't hide their disdain. That's something to be thankful for. It means she won't have to check. It's safe to assume the others all feel similar, even if they're too nervous to wear it plainly. Obviously. Her gaze trends towards the floor, not faces. A bitter sort of posture, where any small scowl is harder to spot. There's no argument or protest from her, though. They all probably know better than she would. Her gaze doesn't snap upwards again until she's face to face with Angela, fierce red eyes like burning headlights. "...Dinners...? Um. If... someone else is dealing with the food, there's..." The girl's face twists, quite confused. "Food's the big part? Tables need setting, you've... got to say grace, and then you eat. And talk." It doesn't cross Meika's mind that 'setting a table' and 'saying grace' are not necessarily completely self-evident statements. To her, they're just the kind of obvious that is hard to even think directly on. "You don't eat? But you..." Right. Why would a robot need to? Even if she looks fairly human? Meika bites her own tongue, teeth clamping against soft skin. "...I'm sorry. I don't... host. But I'm sure you'll do well. You're... professional. I'm sure you'd keep anyone from causing a mess." Hands unclasp, and one reaches for pockets that don't exist- fumbles for a moment, and gets stuck into her messenger bag. A cigarette and a lighter for it are pulled out, and clutched, as if an option is being weighed. "...Miss Angela? Why did Netzach say some abnormalities are hard to classify, as, um. As what they are?" With that, an unheard choice is made, and she sticks the cigarette to her lips. Striker clicks, paper smolders. "...I want to know more about them."
Angela	"I cannot eat." Angela corrects offhandedly but doesn't seem inclined to get in on it. "Do you believe this place has suitable lighting?" She quirks her head at the idea of saying 'grace' but doesn't push on it. She can send her agents out to investigate rather than admitting, once again, she has no idea what Meika is talking about. She assumes it's saying 'thank you' or something like that, to be graceful? To say someting graceful. Yes. At least Meika offers some moral support in reassuring her tat she'll do well. "...Of course. Thank you." Angela says, a bit stiffly. She looks at the cigarette and lighter and then back up to Meika's face. In her hands they are akin to being balanced on a scale. In the end, Meika chooses to SMOKE and Angela ... .... doesn't seem to mind or think twice about it. Smoking is pretty normal within this facility--it's certainly a better smell than blood though it has a familiar scent to the incinerators so she can't say that alone makes her a fan--but she's certainly not going to complain. A not insignificant number of Agents smoke. She scowls a little when Netzach's name comes up and when the nature of the Abnormalities come up-- "You have heard of our sub-classifications, correct? 'Magical Girl' is, essentially, a sub-classification but we have two categories of sub-classifications. One is its origin and the other is its type. For origin we have Fairy Tale, Trauma, and Original. For type we have Humanoid, Animal, Religious, Inanimate, Machine, Abstraction or Amalgation, Breaching Tool, and Tool. The ones that Netzach called 'Stories' tend to be Fairy Tales or Original in origin." "What're you doing here?" A childlike voice pipes in as Tiphereth A clambers on by--she's by herself right now. "I figured you would have wised up by now and have given up." The Sephirah folds her arms against one naother. "Why'd you come down here?" Angela turns her head to look at Tiphereth. "She is invited, Tiphereth. While we are in Central, I have this matter handled." Tiphereth A doesn't immediately answer, staring with her one eye at Meika.
Meika Kirenai	"The lighting? I... think it's fine. It might be a little too bright, but... I.. guess that depends on the mood...? Formal stuff might fit if it's a little brighter. Celebrating something, too. Movies and shows usually like a little dimmer for... um. Other reasons." She coughs. "...Isn't my business." It's almost more worrysome that Angela doesn't react, when the cigarette comes out- but not too surprising. She's seen a handful of agents, the lack of signage against it (well- maybe there is, she really hasn't cared to look), and figures if she gets in trouble, it wouldn't be in any sort of meaningful way. Her hands need something to do, and her nerves aren't on their A-game. "Classifications. Okay. But... um. How.. are they classified? How do you figure that out? What makes somone" A momentary pause. "...Something, I mean- an Original-origin, or a Fairy-Tale. Or... the other one." Hands clasp together again, nails digging into the webbing of entwined fingers. "...Type seems a little more obvious. I get that. You can just... look at them. But." "You said they come from.. people, sort of, right-" 'What're you doing here?' Meika freezes. It's a simple question, it should have a simple answer, but it's enough to cause a falter in her composure, that she can't speak up and offer a good enough excuse. "I- I was just..." "...Given up." Oh. That's what she means. "I'm not... going to stop trying. She deserves better than that. I just... needed some questions answered. Or... wanted. It's just that. I don't want to cause trouble." Minimizations and negotiations, promises of well-meaning-ness. She's really on the back foot. Angela's support causes Meika's head to turn, almost like a flinch-- I don't need your help --but it's support, nontheless, and she lets out a tight-held breath. "...Yeah. Handled." She's not quite sure how she feels, being the 'matter' in question, on a metaphorical leash, like with Random at the branch office. Escorted, handled, an eye kept on. Her shoulders sink, a hair. She should really just be used to it by now, in places like this.
Angela	Angela says, "I see. ... I will see about dimming the lights. Thank you for your assistance." She will have to look into this 'Saying Grace' though whether the odds of her following through with something like that--she is not an especially religious person and the symbology and myth of religion has surrounded her enough that she has a natural disinclination towards it--though Meika might be aware of that to some extent due to her CHECKMATE CATHOLICISM moment earlier. Meika asks how Classifications are figured out. "Well, Fairy Tales are, I've found, common even within the multiverse though we did not know of the multiverse at the time--not to the extent that we do now thanks to the Warpgate but they are stories that are largely based on common tales even from outside this facility--sometimes even our world. Stories anybody would know some version of. Of course, our 'Fairy Tale' abnormalities can stick closely to the commonly understood version of those tales or be twised--such as how Fairy Tales often are. Trauma classified abnormalities are born from deepseated fears, insecurities, emotions--they represent that. All Around Helper, for instance, represents a fear of technology. That technology may actually have been built somewhere and may have actually killed the family it had been delivered to--but it still represents those concepts even if we did not personally build All Around Helper." "'Original' would be a catch-all term for anything that does not fit within the other two categories." Tiphereth takes a long look at Angela, but despite sounding like a kid, she is one of the more stable Sephirah. "...You remind me of my brother, always looking for something. But what will you do when you find it?" Tiphereth mutters. "Tiphereth B stopped responding again. Can you lend me a hand, Angela?" Angela says, "Ah, of course." She nods once to Meika. "Please, we can talk along the way." She starts following after Tiphereth who leads the way. Angela has a dull expression but dutifully follows Tiphereth like she's calling the shots--or at least that there's some kind of mutual understanding between the two. "You're asking about the Singularity so Angela is dancing around it but most of the Abnormalities are drawn out of the collective unconciousness using Cogito. I couldn't tell you how it works. Only the Lower Sephirah know that." Tiphereth says. "I'm just saying because I can tell Angela wanted to but was hesitating for some reason." Angela is face is as passive as ever. "...It just involves ''her'' that's all." "...You know, Tiphereth B and I aren't actually twins either." They approach Tiphereth B who is just... sitting there. "...Tiphereth? Are you cogent?" Angela asks. Tiphereth A says, "Come on...You know already..." "...Okay."
Meika Kirenai	Meika listens carefully, as Angela elaborates on typings. The explanation for fairy tals has her nodding along, faintly remembering talks that must have come up in some class she'd half-slept through. The other types, the pain of trauma-originated, the openness of the catch-all, have her twist her arms back into a chest-hugging defense. "...How come only stories get to repent..." A hushed thought that she doesn't realize in time has escaped her lips. Too late. '...Most of the Abnormalities are drawn out of the collective unconciousness...' "Most? Drawn out? You... bring them into... existence? Is that how you're sure, about the ones that are..." Her brows furrow, as they all walk together. 'Most' isn't all. Footsteps echo quietly across the hard flooring, smooth soles clacking more than the thumping, yet another offset from her usual. She looks to Angela, in response to Tipereth A's followup. "What's... worth hesitating, about... 'her'? Is that the same person Netzach was talking about? The preacher woman? You... seemed not to like that he was, too." Quietly, with dawning worry, Meika's breath hitches upon the uncomfortably-still form of Tiphereth B. "W-wait, what's happening? Is something wrong with..." She looks from Angela to Tiphereth A, uncertain. 'Come on...You know already...' Angela may know already, but Meika certainly doesn't. If one person does, though, she can always overhear. Her heartbeat quickens from worry, and she strains to try and listen in on Angela's thoughts, to clue herself in on what reaction she's having and isn't saying, and anything else that's bubbling right up to the surface. Hands ball up, nails into palms, tight, and eyes squint shut. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hide what you mean, though. I can see it on your face, that something's wrong. If you won't say it, what am I to do? The girl trembles, ever so slightly, silent in her breathing.
Angela	Angela has a faint laugh at that, "...I don't know. Maybe stories are more sympathetic than people." As they walk, Meika speaks of the preacher woman. Tiphereth's eyes slant away while 'her' comes up. Angela didn't really like that Netzach was talking about her. That would be because she didn't. "Carmen was the chief researcher of L Corp once upon a time." Tiphereth says. "Netzach followed her here. I bet he wishes he didn't now, though." "And Carmen is the woman my mental processes are drawn from." Angela says. "She is also the source of the vast majority of our Abnormalities. You could say that she is the Magical Girl of Courage's mother." She turns her head to look Meika dead on. "And mine as well." She doesn't seem happy to have admitted this to Meika, in fact she seems pretty damn sour about it. Her tones have remained level as ever, but there's a stiffness in her posture that seems a bit heavier than it was moments before. She approaches Tiphereth B, not answering Meika's question. She's going to leave that to Tiphereth. Or at least that was the plan. Instead... Meika looks into Angela's mind but strangely there seems to be some kind of...conversation going on there? Now of all times... It is hard enough to not constantly disgust these people. But isn't it better that they know what you really are? Maybe you have just gotten a taste for his blood. It's Tiphereth's request "Lady Angela. Please... Maybe ... the next one will last longer." Tiphereth A says softly. Maybe she'll finally see how rotten we are. Angela guides Meika away from the body. "Don't get too close." She says. Heavy machinery starts to pull and move along. Something is happening. Something above and then-- Angela's body only moves at normal speeds but in terms of reaction speeds, she is quite difficult to beat because of how quickly her mind runs. Indeed, when Meika started peeking in--there was a moment where the thoughts seemed to slow down to make themselves legible for her. But even so, Angela suddenly steps in front of Meika, blocking her vision of Tiphereth b when *CRRRUUUUUUUUNCHHHH* A massive industrial press slams down suddenly from above down onto where Tiphereth B was moments ago. "If you want to look I will not stop you." Angela says. "But if you keep trying to see us, one day you might. And there is no coming back from that." The presser pulls back up, dripping blood, leaving the shattered and bloodied remains of Tiphereth B behind. "I hope your next version will last longer, Tiphereth." Tiphereth says. "Thank you, Lady Angela. But I am sure she knows that this is better than forgetting everything." Is there really no better way? We can reverse time. "But we cannot reverse a tale." Angela says, this time out loud, to herself, like she's unaware she's doing just that.
Meika Kirenai	'Maybe stories are more sympathetic than people.' "Then why don't more of you treat them with sympathy?" 'You could say that she is the Magical Girl of Courage's mother.' 'And mine as well.' Meika's piercing eyes meet Angela's stare, as head on as highway collisions. "...Are you.. like she is?" 'But isn't it better that they know what you really are?' Meika flinches at the second unheard voice, the unexpected one. The phrasing and its sentiment a nerve-striking sensetivity, but out of worry what it means for Angela, as well. In what's probably a bad idea, Meika's lips purse, and start to move. Whispering, making herself only audible to that second voice in Angela's head, words spill from her mouth. {"Is someone there? I can hear you. Are you hiding..?"} Her own curiosity the better of her, she stays, listening in as far and as long as she can- the bitter lump in her throat doesn't get any smaller for it, but does anyone truly expect her to be better than this? 'Maybe she'll finally see how rotten we are.' ansi9160, How can you think that? Haven't you seen enough from me to know better? Don't you see how-) A quizzical expression jumps across Meika's face, when Tiphereth A mentions 'the next one'. Worry, and confusion, but mostly pain at the obvious tone. Oh. Something's very wrong. It's kind, that Angela thinks Meika needs a line of sight to see- not that she's 'seeing', exactly, as ambient echoes and faint sounds reverberate in their unique ways, shaping her surroundings whether she wants to 'see', or not. She notices when the press comes down, she hears every snapping joint, every crack and crumple in metal framing. Every drip-drip-drip as pistons pull it back up, and out of sight. She wasn't expecting blood. Are they not... Oh, goodness, oh God.. She wants to yelp. That'd be the normal thing, a fear response, the sudden, crushing violence. This isn't that new. She doesn't even freeze up, even with the bitter choking feeling deep in her throat. Instead, she rushes past and around Angela, to the crumpled remains of Tiphereph B, and slides to her knees. "No, no, no- his body's still, he's still... You've got medics, right? We can still..." This isn't like her home. This isn't a Temptation's doing. Corpses don't just fizzle away, there's no clean delineation between alive and dead. And nobody else seems surprised. Her frantic breathing slows, as she looks at the blood-smeared wreckage. 'But I am sure she knows that this is better than forgetting everything.' More than the actual violence, the actual harm, this statement causes Meika to freeze where she kneels. She's quiet and still, for a good long time, eyes fixed and breathing faint. "...Y-yeah." A hand reaches up to wipe her face, on overlong sleeve cuffs. It's a truly, truly horrible thing to agree on, to justify this. But. "...If... he'd forget everything... it's not much different. I think I'd..." I can't say that. That's too far. Slowly, ever so slowly, she gets back up to her feet. 'We can reverse time.' 'But we cannot reverse a tale.' She can't admit, to Angela, that she heard the prelude to her accidentally-spoken mantra. Still. Through bleary, teary eyes, she speaks up. "...Why can't tales be reversed, too..?"
Angela	Angela isn't going to answer some questions in front of a Sephirah. So she doesn't answer that first one. If a Sephirah knows what she really wants, they might actually stop her. Fortunately she isn't really THINKING about that in the moment, just a simple 'don't answer that' through her head. The second one though.... "We are both products of L Corp. That doesn't mean we are made the same way, exactly." We are both trapped in here There is this sense from Angela--not really vocalized in mind words so much as in mind sensations that Angela worries about the horrors of L Corp 'ruining' the outside world, or 'ruining' the kind people out there. She doesn't know what lurks in Meika's head at al;. certainly, but she is as much a creature of duality as the magical girls. Some of Angela wants Meika to turn away from the truth, some of Angela wants her to face it head on and push through to some sort of truth beyond. Angela is unhappy about what happened to Tiphereth in a strange way--like one might be dully melancholic at an expected but unhappy event. Hello Meika. Carmen is somewhere down below, and so the whispers go there, through the floor to something dank and deep below. But that is a kind voice, a warm voice. It is a voice that loves Meika, loves all of humanity and--to be clear--not humanity as in humans but humanity as in the quality of personhood that makes people people. She wants to help Meika, but she can't yet. She can't quite reach her. Not a chain around her ankle but an arm too short to reach no matter how close Meika gets to her. Don't turn away from the truth. About yourself. About them. Can you see Tiphereth before you or do you see the box? Despite saying so, Tiphereth seems surprised to hear Meika AREE with her. She stammers awkwardly for a moment. Carmen fills the space. You'd rather die than forget too, wouldn't you? That's why Tiphereth struggles. You remind her of her brother. Carmen just says that. She didn't read Meika's mind. She just got that impression. It's a conversation. Carmen would like to have it with no barriers but she can't quite reach. "...It's kind of you to say that." Tiphereth says eventually. "Do you believe a miracle might save you?" Angela finally says, "...When your new brother is ready I'll let you know." She is pulling back into that cold persona, turning back to Angela. Does she know she's talking to Carmen? She doesn't comment on it. But there's still a faint glimmer of understanding in that eye. Maybe she just knows Carmen well enough to know she'd never not say hello to someone like Meika. "Because they are remembered." Angela says. "And that changes the telling. If you change how the tale is told, it is just a new tale. Tales are fixed in te moment of the telling." She shakes her head. "The motto of a sick man. I would not put too much stock in it."
Meika Kirenai	'Hello Meika.' It figures, that actions have consequences. Ask someone if she's hiding, and maybe she'll greet you directly. It feels like a transgression, like something she shouldn't be keyed into. The warmth of her tone feels dangerous. Wrong. The kind of attention you don't want to draw, voiced in a gentleness nothing good or righteous needs. She knows, in the back of her mind, that she should cut her losses, and stop listening- and especially not speak out, again. Everything is stained by the fact she shouldn't have been eavesdropping in the first place. Heartbeat heavy in her throat, tightening the ever-present guilty knot, eyes still firmly on the tangled wreckage of the Sephirah, she makes up her mind. {"...Hello."} {"I.. don't get it. What truth..? There's-"} A lot of them. More than she'd like. {"...I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know that's- that's a body, I know he's dead, and I'm sorry, he shouldn't have to..."} She hiccups. {"...How could I even know if I'm seeing what you want me to...?"} More visible, now, as she mouths silent words, are tears in the corner of her eyes, reflecting the red and gold of her surroundings, and sparkling in the overbright light. 'You'd rather die than forget too, wouldn't you?' It doesn't particularly matter if Carmen could read Meika's mind or not- the comment cracks her just as open and vulnerable as she would be if it was pulled straight from the neurons in her brain. She's forming a whispered response before she even realizes, as if slipping through cracks in a rotting, crumbling wall. {"...W-what do you know.. They're just... the same thing, aren't they? Are you still you if it's just the outisde that stays?"} She grimmaces, and thinks, half wanting to try and reach back, to grab the words she's spoken, and twist them out of memory- But who would she even tell? Are secrets safe? A shaky sigh stills her moving lips, silent words no longer needed. 'Do you believe a miracle might save you?' Meika shifts, overly conscious of her posture, in the way that no adjustment can make comfortable. "...I'm not counting on a second one. It's... better someone else get that. But I guess I don't have a say." Quiet tone, no eye contact. "I don't need saving." She tears her eyes away from the wreckage, and to Angela- spying that faint glint, and wilting. No use anymore staying tuned-in, right now, she just wishes she couldn't be seen, couldn't be heard. Her expression makes it clear that, had she a tail, it'd be tucked between her legs.
Meika Kirenai	'Because they are remembered.' If nobody does, can they be undone? Can things be fixed? Is it the fault of the witness, of whoever's remembering, that it all happened? Am I to bla- It's a stupid thought. It's not allowed not to be. She knows that's not how it works. At best, it's wishful thinking, that anything could have changed anything, save her own actions. That anything could be undone. There's stories she holds, that nobody else remembers, ones that everyone else will forget, and someday she'll join them. The core impossibility-- that which isn't known can't be acted upon --eludes her, and she squints eyes shut to drive everything but a focus on breathing. In. Out. Shaky, her eyes eventually flutter back open. Hands dust off the front of her dress, unconsciously forgetting that blood might stick, might stain, more than underfoot particulate matter held only by static."...I... I think I need some air, Miss Angela. May... I be excused?" Uncharacteristic politeness in her tone, softer and hesitant, without an edge to it. Asking permission like talking to an authority figure. 'Tales are fixed in the moment of the telling.' I wish there was anything I could do to change that.
Angela	Angela has plenty of time to observe Meika's words silently mouthing. She can't read lips--partially because she has to observe the lips for way longer than she has the patience to--but also because, despite those moving lips, it is essentially a private conversation. And she knows with who. She sees tears in the corner of Meika's eyes. Her hands curl into fists as she watches that little droplet of water leak out. The last thoughts Meika gets from Angela is a mix of frustration, regret, self-hatred, hatred, and despair. She seems at a loss for what to do, whether she should even intercede. ''What truth?'' Your shared connection. What Tiphereth seeks from you. ''I know he's dead'' He is. He died a long time ago. Tiphereth's will keeps him here but Tiphereth's will wants him to be gone forever. Tiphereth seeks to rewind the tale but she cannot. Instead she must find an expectation of her own for the meaning of existence. Carmen's voice is love incarnate. She loves Meika. She really does. She loves Meika enough to speak honestly. It's an honest voice. There is a will behind that voice, she is not omnipotent and hardly a God but perhaps she is a devil that loves you. Even the parts that you cannot love. Especially those parts. She wants to point at those parts and exclaim 'How cute!' ''Are you still you if it's just the outside that stays?'' That is not the first question, is it? Even if you forget, you'll still have your family, your sister, your school. First I must ask... 'Are those things enough of my identity that I'd still be me if I kept them, are those things enough of my identity that I'd stop being me if I lost them?'. How much of me is in me, and how much of me is in those around me? I wish I could help you right now, Meika. I really do. But if you could look out for that girl I'd appreciate it. It is ambiguous which girl she means. Tiphereth turns her head away. "Tch. I don't need it either." She says. "Central isn't like Malkuth or Netzach and content to be a mess the whole time." She then turns back to face her. "...I'll see you around next time you come." And so Tiphereth trots off as well, leaving Angela and Meika alone for a moment. Angela reflects on the nature of tales. Angela remembers that she is not someone who can usually help others. The last time was an exception, hardly a rule, and she should not grow accustomed to it. Angela wants to hold Meika and lie and tell her that everything will be okay, everything will be fine, she will look out for her and do her best but... But not even an amnesiac buys her lies, so why would Meika? Instead she just bobs her head once and just as politely says back to her, "Of course. Feel free to come by again any time, Miss Meika."