Scene #8672: I Will Be Here

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	How long has it last been that Meika was summoned by an adult to 'have a talk', and wasn't actually, immediately and obviously, in trouble? One might assume that it's because Lilian doesn't have an office or clinic or classroom to summoner her to, but none of those things are strictly actually true. The fact that Lilian invites Meika out on her own time (contriving a believable note to her parents that Kayoko already knows of if unable) to somewhere as relaxed as a private park by the seaside is a personal choice. Her own territory, of course; actually at the coastal edge of the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center, overlapping the spine of old Scarborough; but sparing her the perhaps somewhat confusing sights of ultramodern arcology design and ubiquitous cameras, to say nothing of the high walls and well-loved prefab buildings at the west. The most exotic thing she has to deal with is the tiny roads, the mixture of accents, and the existence of such terrifyingly unamerican things as public rail. Enough to feel strikingly 'away from home', but picturesque enough to be just fine. There's no obvious reason that Lilian can be found alone at such a nice little spot; down a number of pretty green paths and seated at an equally pretty glass and weatherproof steel table set overlooking the beach, too warm to even snow; but she needn't know why. Somehow it just looks right to see her there, like this, surrounded by green and silhouetted by the sea, hair blowing faintly in the breeze, poring over a book with pencil in hand, mysteriously solo and waiting across from an empty padded chair. She'd look like a seaside apparition, were she still not in her red and charcoal gold-buttoned school uniform, and across a complete tea set. Meika feels a strange tingle in the air as she steps reasonably close, but it passes in only a second. Lilian looks up only afterwards; then looks at Meika. She taps her lower lip with the end of her pencil, then gestures to the opposite seat with it, putting on reassuring smile just for her. "How is your leg?" Lilian begins, conversationally. That part is mandatory politeness.
Meika Kirenai	Meika wouldn't dare admit how many minutes she's spent scowling and shifting posture in front of her bathroom mirror ahead of this appointment, trying to fix her hair into the image held in her mind's eye. Beyond fixing it down with wetted fingers and chopping at it when her bangs get too long, she'd usually rather never think about it- Vermillion's hair is fine, always, in its half-up ponytail, with the little red ribbon binding it there, but trying to copy that onto herself is an entirely different challenge than just performing her magical transformation correctly is. The little ribbons and hair ties Meika's scrounged for are either a shade too light or too dark, and her hair's frizz and dry ends are a fight to constrain. The end result of her efforts elicits a cheek-biting wince, still- not because she doesn't manage something close to copying it, but because she does, and seeing it mixed with the rest of her appearance feels chokingly vulnerable. But if I start doing it this way now, maybe there's time for a habit to stick, right? Tie cinched up to her collar, wrinkles finger-squished out of her shirt, skirt patted free of the dust that clings to its pleats, jacket cuffs pulled down far enough over her arms and palms, and metal crutch picked up from where it'd been left leaning in the corner. Presentable enough, Meika figures, for her to foray out in, the mutation of her school's uniform she so often defaults to its own form of shielding. It may not be on strictly official business, but justifying use of the Holy Refulgence's means of transport is easier with notes and excuses Meika can easily play up the significance of. Bypassing warpgate transit to arrive in the seaside surroundings with a monochrome distortion, she takes a long moment to breathe in cold air, and shivers. Far chillier here than the subtropical mildness of Kagoshima, even if the salt in the breeze is familiar. As she sets off on the last legs of the path, her free hand can't seem to decide whether to wrap itself around the strap of her messenger bag, or fiddle with the strands of hair she's still nervous about the look of. Eventually, as she gets into sight, and as the hair on the back of her neck prickles from more than just the temperature, it settles on throwing her a small wave. 'How is your leg?' "Ah. I- I don't actually really need the crutch much, so..." To demonstrate, she lifts the rubber tip of it off the ground, and stands with weight partially-shared across her good leg and the boot cast. She contemplates saying a quick little 'ta-da', but instead, quickly takes the opposite seat, relieving the twinge of pain before she fails worse at hiding it. A proper answer is mandatory, too, though. "It's healing up fast enough, Chevalier Rook. Um. Thanks for asking. And... thanks for the invitation. And for your help, the other day." Meika's lips purse for a moment, Lilian's stare noticably causing the girl's eyes to flit about anywhere but right back, until they linger on the book she's holding. "Are you reading something interesting?" A foot taps against the ground, silenced. A small nervous laugh isn't, however. "I... didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?"
Lilian Rook	Lilian smiles at the tiny wave. It comes easily. Was that embarrassing? Does she think it's cute? Is she just happy to see Meika? "I'm glad to hear it. You're still far too young for intensive battlefield injuries." says Lilian. "Certainly young enough it shouldn't leave lasting issues." Her gaze wanders up to Meika's hair, hovers a moment around the bow, and she thoughtfully bites her lip. Gorgeous red gloss and a little sharp canine that-- "I suppose you've been having a rough time everywhere." she says. "Well, not that I don't know by now. Don't worry so much, Vermillion." Lilian pauses a moment, then, testingly, swaps to her Japanese. Predictably, years of being with Tamamo, having a Japanese colleague, and being deployed in Japan for six months, have provoked her usual attitude and discipline into having it down extremely fluently. She even shifts up her pitch and everything. "Or would you prefer just Meika, here between the two of us?" When Meika has her seat, Lilian watches her over the top of her book, seeing the ways her eyes wander around, but after a few seconds, her pencil begins moving again. "Not at the moment. I considered continuing something I'm reading right now, but after seeing the view, I had the whim to draw." So it's a sketchbook. "The last time I did was months ago. And it came in handy very recently." she says. Lilian shakes her head at the following question, but doesn't actually utter a reassuring platitude, saying instead, "Something to drink? Eat?" After a moment's silence, however, pencil stroking the page with such delicacy Meika can hardly hear it, fingertips with precise control beyond imagining, Lilian continues with, "I understand you draw as well. I've heard this and that about your own sketchbook. How important it is to you, mostly." Eyes cast down at her book, she seems less threatening than the question normally would be. Even the drawing sounds nothing like the scribbling of a teacher's notes, or worse, a therapist. Lilian's eyelashes flutter only intermittently in concentration. "Why did you leave it behind?" she asks. She needn't specifically state 'when going to Lobotomy Corp'.
Meika Kirenai	Meika's shoulders visibly tighten at 'too young', and a flash of embarrassment crosses her face and mind, first from feeling conscious of her youth, and then again from having to correct the statement. "It's... only even as bad as it is because I got it hurt worse before. But... that was years ago. So long as I'm careful, or lucky, it'll- Yeah. No other lasting issues." Both of Meika's hands grab at her own knees, bitten-down fingernails pressing into fabric. Easier to focus on her own motions than Lilian's, if hers are- Meika clears her throat. "I- I'm handling stuff fine. Even if there's rough patches. But-" Her hands relax for a moment. "Yeah. Okay. I'll do my best not to." Lilian's language switch catches Meika a bit off-guard, broadcast again by the sudden jolt in her shoulders. Lilian's fluency, too, leaves Meika cognizant of her own accent- Satsuma dialect slipping into her vowel sounds the more and more she thinks on it. "Either- either name is fine. Vermillion's not really less personal. More people use-" She stops herself. "I... don't know which more people use, now, actually." That thought leaves her quiet for a moment just a hair's breadth too long. "You draw? It's- this is a nice place to draw from." The girl lights up a bit, even moving one of her arms to rest on the table instead of staying folded in her lap or hovering near jacket pockets. "I- I ate before I came. But... something to drink would be nice. Thanks." The first part is a lie, but it's easier if she only partially accepts the offer. "I do, yeah. Draw, I mean. It's... What've you heard about it?" A defensive pang. Even less threatening than counselors and administration, and even while Meika drums fingers silently against the table to focus stress away, she's habitually on the back foot, in conversations like this. Especially with how much about her has wound out to be public knowledge recently, with the collapse of gossip and behind-back chatter on the radios, Meika's scared the skittishness is justified. Catching eyelash flutters in the corner of Meika's vision, though, disarms it to entirely different sorts of nervousness. "Oh. I didn't... leave it behind. I let someone borrow it, and... she left with it. It took us a while to find her and get it back, but... we did." Quietly, she pulls the worn-out sketchbook from her bag and sets it at the table edge, proof it exists- to Lilian, and herself. "Thought it'd help her. It might have, I think, even if... Well. Um. It still turned out okay, not having it with me then, so." Her legs kick back and forth beneath her seat, ever so slightly, where her cast boot scuffs against the ground, faint, nigh-unconscious efforts silence it.
Lilian Rook	"You're doing good work for the Paladins, Meika." says Lilian, focused on her page. "If there's something you need when you retire, you'll have more than enough credit to call in a favour. Even if that were somehow to fall through, Lobotomy Corporation-- no, Angela, would certainly be predisposed to help." she says. "So, stay alive until then." Lilian smiles (at her page, but it still somehow exudes a giddy sense of having given a perfect answer) at Meika's interest in her drawing, and says "My, that's the first time I've heard you brighten up like that. You always sound so reserved. But I suppose it's no wonder, if no one else pays attention to your interests." An amicable pause goes by, until Meika confirms her acceptance of a drink. It's then that Lilian releases hold of her pen and book-- which levitate in space nearby her, so that she can reach across for the teapot at the center of the tray, slide out a cup with her fingertips, and warmly pour from six inches of height with the elegance of someone used to copying professional maids for fun. Passing it over by the saucer to Meika, her fingers brush for a split second, and she returns to her sketchbook, simply plucking it out of the air and continuing on. There's already sugar in it, apparently. Something rich and fruit-tinged. Easy for anyone to handle. "I do." Lilian says, picking up the conversation as well. "I did all the time when I was your age. Then I fell out of the habit." She sighs, the tiniest bit reluctant. "I know when I gave it up, for me, it was an effect of poor life circumstances; or perhaps I should simply say poor emotional health." There's a slight tension in how she says it. It comes out guilty, rather than leading. "The appeal was lost to me back then, when I felt too stressed to pick up a pencil, and too numb to think of anything interesting to create. With no one else to share it with, and no professional aspirations, it felt pointless to continue, so I cut it out of my life, and felt a little relief from a burden, and then a numb spot where it used to be." "I started again recently." Lilian says. "About a year ago; ah that probably sounds like a long time, I suppose. It's been . . . nice. Like returning to an old friend again. Reminding me of why it felt special in the first place." She finally looks up, albeit just a glance. "Everything feels like it's forever, until you suddenly break from the tunnel and breathe in the air; then old things change again." "Ah, but forgive me for going on." Lilian says, giggling with a note of chagrin. She probably needn't. The personal nature of it feels far more friendly than an interrogation; a willingness to reveal a vulnerability first goes far. "Nothing from Ishirou or Hearthward." she replies. The suddenly cutting nature of it says a lot; it communicates a degree of displeasure that she doesn't show to Meika on comms. "Only that it's important to you, and you have a favourite sketchbook you've used a lot. We don't have to talk about that if you don't like. I just think warmly of fellow artists; that's all." Indeed, Lilian smiles much less reservedly once she actually sees it. Her hand halts with the visible urge to reach out and run her fingers over it, then returns to sketching. "That's very kind of you." she says. "I won't fault you in terms of virtue, Meika. Your heart was in it, and you clearly did a good thing. It's not my place to tell you when you should and shouldn't act with compassion; I'd rather you learn that showing it is a good thing. However . . . I do wish you'd . . ." She swaps back to English for a sentence. "Secure your mask first. Because you're under a lot of duress, and I think you might be so toughened up that you don't notice it anymore." Not because it was irresponsible. Not because she's reckless. Not because she's a fuckup. Because she's 'too strong'.
Lilian Rook	Lilian, finally, puts down her pencil, places her book in her lap, and looks out to the ocean. Over a long pause of peaceful silence, she works through half of her own tea, sip by calming sip, as she thinks; and thinks about nothing in particular. "I'm sorry." she says, without much guilt. "But I really must ask . . . Why Lobotomy Corporation? Of all the places for you to commit your heart and soul to, why that place? I understand why you might skirt the rules to help someone as a matter of moral urgency; it's not the act of sneaking out that bothers me. I just can't understand why it has to be that place." It is worth remembering that Lilian has been there too. Repeatedly. The pause that follows is more thoughtful, and less confident. She emanates a sort of psychic vibe that she isn't quite sure if she should say something out loud. Lilian chews her lip, shifting restlessly in her seat, and finally puts her cup down so that she can unbutton the top fasten of her school jacket, then the second, revealing white blouse, red ribbon, a black chain, and bare collarbone. It's not exactly warm, but her outfit is layered, and the collar can't be comfortable for a relaxed setting. She breathes in softly. "May I ask you to stop doing that?" she says. 'That' isn't specified, but there's only one 'thing' Meika is doing. "I makes me feel as if you're scared of me. I'm certain it's just a habit, but it makes me feel that you're worried I might harm you for being too noisy or annoying." The naked sincerity of it is a little disarming. She sounds genuinely uncomfortable, yet gently insistent asking, testing a newfound type of backbone. "One of the few things I really can't stand is people I like acting as though I might hurt them. So . . . As a favour."
Meika Kirenai	"Retire." Meika parrots the word, feeling its shape and sound out as she does. "I don't know what I'd call in. I don't know what I'd think to. But I'm not-" Her hands are still, for a moment. "I'll do my best to." Promises to try come more frequent than certainties. The girl's teeth clack together at Lilian's comment on attention and interests. "It's just stuff that doesn't come up a lot." Meika's eyes fix on the sketchbook Lilian leaves hanging midair, transfixed. In the way that conscious nonreaction leads to unnatural stilling of motion, Meika's hand on the passed saucer stays fixed in place for a half-moment. When she moves, and takes a sip of the tea, her mind wanders to how much her fingers itch from the band-aids wrapped around some of her knuckles. "I don't draw as much as I used to, either. Aha. I used to draw a lot. I haven't- I've never stopped, but... feeling different, with it, is..." She taps the side of her teacup, and watches how the tiny waves ripple across the liquid's surface from the impact. She taps again, silently, and watches the same pattern ring out. "I'm glad it's nice to go back to. I- Yeah." Where it sits at the edge of the table, it's clear that Meika's well-used sketchbook is also missing dozens and dozens of pages, from how its cover sags inwards. As she sits, the tightness in her shoulders starts to fade. "It's personal, but it's not... I can talk about it. You- you know I need it to transform properly, already. There's... not much more to know, than that. But if there's... It's old stuff, Miss Rook. It's not good art. Kid stuff." Those words taste bitter, despite the tea. Meika watches Lilian's hand freeze how it does, and slowly pushes the notebook across the table. "It's secure enough." Her voice drops a few volume notches at Lilian's comment, and her eyes move on to staring at the reflections in her teacup. "What would that change?" Meika holds her fingers tight around her teacup, and chews at the inside of her cheek. "That company is somewhere I can-" Can what? Help well at? That's not true, you know that. She goes quiet for a second. "I know it's an awful place. But it's... different, fighting, and trying to help, in places that there's..." Meika's clearly struggling for words. She takes another tip of her tea, and taps her heel. "I like that I get to choose it at all. That there's less to hide, since it's... elsewhere. I don't know. Maybe it's just momentum." The teacup gets placed down with a faint clatter. The pause where Lilian debates putting words is noticed, in how Meika shifts her posture three times in a row without saying anything herself. She settles on straightening up from her hunch, if only to better look up and around over Lilian's shoulders, than at her at all. Absentmindedly, she scratches at her forearm through her jacket. 'May I ask you to stop doing that?' "Ah?" She freezes all her actions from that question, until Lilian's words shape the clarification out. "Oh. I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was-" Teeth clamp around the skin right inside the corner of her lip, and bite, hard. Instead of more immediate words, she takes a second to nod, the small ponytail she's put in her hair, and its red ribbon, bobbing with the motion. "I'll do my best."
Lilian Rook	"'Try hard' do your best? Or 'think about it' do your best?" Lilian says, visibly resisting an eyebrow raise with a twitch. "No, pay no mind. That was rude." A moment passes before she answers again. "It should. People should want to know you. Caretakers should want to be involved in your life. Peers should want to be on good terms with you. Even a priest or a nun should want to know how you're feeling, for matters of spiritual guidance." she says. ". . . I hope it'll be good for you to go back to for you, too. As well as hockey, and whatever else it is you like." Lilian's tone at least turns a little more cynically amused later. "Oh, I do know. Your sister has made an endless fuss about it, and my less respectable colleagues have made a circus of defending their intentions." The noise she makes between sentences is nearly inscrutable; recognizable only as something within vicinity of contemplative. "I'm envious." says Lilian. "I don't have anything left from my childhood. Nothing worth holding onto, at least. I don't have so much as a photograph from before I was eighteen. I think it's sort of romantic, to keep hold of those precious things from long ago, even if they weren't much." 'Secure enough' passes without comment, but Meika gets the feeling Lilian intended to say 'no it's not'. A rare show of someone older than her being willing to leave it alone. "Everything." is all she says at the end. Another first is the way Lilian stops and listens to Meika's answer. There's a moment of strange, dizzying alarm, where her neck hairs prickle up and something in her brain pings a quiet alarm, where Lilian's eyes sort of stare through her face without finding any real purchase. It comes late enough to be dispelled as soon as it started, when the grass-green finds her, and there's a little bit of light that Kayoko doesn't seem to get from her; something just for Meika. Lilian folds her arm under her chest, close to her body, props her elbow, touches her cheek as support, and listens with a slight lean-in of interest. She has a kind of warmly breathless patience about the way she waits for Meika to get the words together. A kind of gravity that draws in her gaze, from how she watches Meika's face for feelings rather than lies; listens to her words for intent rather than reading between the lines. "Would anywhere else have done?" she asks. "If I found you somewhere else, far away, where you could fight, help, be yourself, and your sister would leave you alone about, would you take it?" Lilian's fingernails surprisingly painted a gorgeous black with beautiful dusty gold swirls on two fingers drum thoughtfully on her cheek. The motion attracts reflexive attention to her perfect subtle blush, the fact she barely needs eyeliner, the little hint of red shadow that looks so striking at the corners, the-- "Momentum is understandable, but it's not defensible. Do you understand? If that's all it is, I wouldn't mind helping you finding something less . . . unethical, to spend your time on. If it isn't; if there's some other reason; something or someone you're attached to; then that's fine too, but I can only listen to you if you tell me." Lilian whispers 'less to hide' thoughtfully under her breath. She wonders, oh god she's wondering, but she doesn't go far with the thought. "If it really has to be Lobotomy Corporation, and you can tell me why, I'll handle your sister. I'll put in with your parents that you've been selected for a junior apprenticeship; you'll actually have one, of course, and you'll make most of the dates, but we can consider Lobotomy Corporation to be a part of it, as far as anyone needs to know." Lilian says. "As long as it's under my direction, your help will be bringing about a better future, rather than blindly enabling that company's cruelty."
Lilian Rook	The last request passes with palpable tension. A certain kind of static electricity builds up in the air between them. A kind of charge from Lilian knowing she's opened herself up a little more than she should, but having the force of personality, the center of social gravity, to bear it without flinching. The breath of relief she lets go is undisguised. A tiny, tangible admission that Meika had a little bit of power in that moment. "No need to apologize." Lilian says. "Don't feel guilty about it. I'm asking for a small imposition for my own comfort, and you're obliging. That's a noble thing; it isn't being caught out misbehaving." she says. Then another tense pause of daring consideration passes. Shorter, but sharper. Lilian tentatively decides on going further. "People have treated me as dangerous, or like a disaster waiting to happen, because of the powers I came into, growing up. There was no real logic to it. It's unfortunately natural to worry about someone much younger than you possessing some kind of power, or being touched by some sort of abnormality, that you can't fully control about them. It took a lot of work to earn their acceptance. I had to make them know who I really was, and to show them that I could be trusted. So it puts me on edge, if someone is clearly trying to mitigate themselves around me. That's all. So thank you." That is mostly the truth. Finally, Lilian glances at Meika's scratching. The bandaids around her fingers. The way she's holding her teacup, after that flinch on the saucer. Perhaps misinterpreting it for pain, she gestures authoritatively for Meika to hold her hands out, suddenly strangely hard to resist, then quickly searches her messenger bag for medical supplies; small things scavenged from her Paladins kit. Enough that she can gently take Meika's fingers into her warm grip, carefully peel back the bandages, turn and squeeze and spray sealant and topical painkiller, chemical healing accelerant and clear-guard, and stroke across her skin to check that it's fully settled. She holds her like something she's wary she might break, up until she lets go. It passes without words. It doesn't need any. A breather in the conversation. "I asked you before, Meika. I've asked your sister the same. If you had a choice. If you could decide not to give it up. If you could remember, keep some semblance of power, and decide your fate, would you?" asks Lilian. "The Refulgence wouldn't remember. Your sister would forget in a year. I don't think you should be forced to fight; even if it's only you forcing yourself, but I think it's . . . important you at least have the choice." "It seems like you're weak when it comes to asking."
Meika Kirenai	'No, pay no mind. That was rude.' "Don't worry about it." I get it. "I don't know what much I'll get to go back to. Hockey is..." She taps the knee of her cast-clad leg. "Lost the shot I had a while ago already. So I'm over it." Meika is actively wearing her old team letterman jacket as she says this. That's the tone she uses on counselors, and old family friends asking about shelf-topping trophies, not a fair and honest one to use with a peer. 'I think it's sort of romantic, to keep hold of those precious things from long ago, even if they weren't much.' A pang of embarrassed guilt crosses Meika's face. "I'm not holding onto it well. When I use it, er, it's what's in it is what I use, really... the pages don't come back." She pauses. "I don't know if it'll run out before I do. So maybe it'll stay." "I'm sorry. That must be sad, not... yeah.)]")] Her hands fidget quietly with one another around the teacup, before she stills them by taking a long sip. Everything." She repeats the word, more to acknowledge that it's been said, picked up with great uncertainty as to what to do with it. Blunt fingernails scrape against the ceramic cup in small hemicircle patterns that still and freeze when Lilian's stare bores through her skull. The warmth that replaces the stare freezes her hands moreso. Absentmindedly, Meika almost mimics the motion of folding an arm, consciously stopping it halfway through to stick her hand in her letterman's pocket. 'If it isn't;' "Maybe somewhere else could have, but I can't- can't give up on that all just yet, not now. I like some of the people, there, and... there's others I still need to help. I- I feel like I owe them it, too." She pauses. "Maybe if- if we finish helping Love and Justice's sisters. If I can get that far." "..You'd... do all.." Her mouth closes, slowly. Once more, teeth clamp around cheek skin, as bitter, guilty feelings well up. "I don't want that. It's fine if I get in trouble by going, it saves them the effort." 'That's a noble thing; it isn't being caught out misbehaving.' "Oh." Meika stays quiet, listening close to Lilian's expansion on her request. Her shoulders shift, and nearly return to her earlier hunch. Quietly, she whispers out an "Oh." once more. The adhesive on the bandages grips like it's nearly new, when Lilian pulls it away. She's been hospitalized, away from fighting, for a week. Meika doesn't wince or protest, not even against fragility, not even as recently-abraded and broken skin gets met with chemical sprays colder than the bare vulnerability of that all, but her breath still catches, and her eyes still flit back and forth to the black and gold nail polish. When it's done, she slowly pulls her hands back to the safety of being folded in her lap. She inhales through her nose, and squeezes them tightly together, as if banishing them from thought. "Yes. I- I don't want to give it up." Her words come out just a bit more rushed, ushering in a tight-chested recklessness. "Why would I want to? It's... all a part of who someone is, right? And what's there to go back to that could matter more? I owe too much as-is to. If I don't have this, then what's even-" Meika cuts off into a deep breath. She coughs, and her posture slumps back to how it had been prior, and she's silent for a long moment. "Right. Um. Thank you for the tea, Miss Rook."
Lilian Rook	'Lost the shot I had a while ago already. So I'm over it.' "You're not." Lilian sighs. "Nobody is 'over' anything until they're at least twenty five. It's just a rule of life." At least it goes somewhere unexpected. Not just calling Meika a liar. "And yes, that means I'm not 'over' anything yet either." The fact she expected to be called out on hypocrisy, as if it would help anything, is both clearly automatic, and says a lot. 'I'm sorry. That must be sad not... yeah.' "A little." Lilian sighs again, but it has a different texture to it. Reluctant. Deflective. Distracted. Wistful. She always seems like she has an endless rainbow of slightly different expressions of unhappiness, or at least guardedness, that mean all sorts of different things; some even positive. More than she has warm ones. "It's silly of me, but it does make me . . . The idea of having to rip out a treasured childhood memory; something you could look back on later and feel a connection to; every time you use that power . . . It makes me uneasy, I suppose. I know that comes from a place of my not having any, so perhaps I'm romanticizing it too much, but . . ." She locks eyes with Meika for a moment, and seems to be searching for an answer in them. "It just strikes me as burning a little part of yourself, because you have to. Because people need you, and because you were told to. That bothers me." 'I can't- can't give up on that all just yet, not now' "I see. It's a matter of turning your back on the people you've already sworn to help. Seeing through what you promised." says Lilian. Leaning back in her chair, she looks more than vaguely pleased at Meika's answer. Not in the way of a parent or teacher having heard the 'correct' one, but in the way of being surprised, and a little proud of it. "Well, then it was absolutely a mistake to pledge yourself to a project as bitter and cruel as Lobotomy Corporation, and you should be far more careful in who you attach yourself to from now on. And it's also very brave of you to not run away." Repeating another of her favourite little list, Lilian says, "Seventh Code. When thou speak from authority absolute, so must be thy judgement. Thy word remains true even if the mind does not. None shall follow one who countermands their absolute judgement." Even a tiny smile. "I can accept that. Helping the loved ones of those who are close to you; who can hate that?" 'I don't want that.' Lilian tilts her head, but says nothing. 'It's fine if I get in trouble by going, it saves them the effort.' "That's not what someone who doesn't want it would say." Lilian says. "That's what someone says when they're trying to make someone else not feel obliged." It's so matter of fact it feels like the stab of a mounting pin. As if nothing but the obvious matters. "Do you really have some kind of fervent career aspiration that you need to see yourself into at the earliest opportunity? If not, you have no good reason to refuse a junior apprenticeship in your graduating year, in a prestigious location with excellent networking opportunities. That's nothing more than moping; or perhaps especially intense social anxiety." She seems like she's getting to something, but loses energy by the point at which she's supposed to make the jump to the real topic. She delays, briefly, with a suddenly softly spoken, "You aren't scared your sister would disapprove, are you? She seems to like me quite a lot. And it's nothing if not a respectable offer."
Lilian Rook	She falls quiet for a while, chewing on the rest while she works on Meika's hands. The shuffling 'oh' elicits a little laugh from her. It's so perfectly believable it could only possibly be fake. "Don't freeze up like that! I'll start feeling awkward!" Lilian says. "It's difficult for me to be forthcoming about it. I know all about your powers. And I know enough about your sister's, too-- Ah, but don't tell her I said that, please. So it feels a bit unfair not to share. But no one asked." She holds Meika's treated hands for a moment slightly too long. Her thumb brushes over her, stimming thoughtfully. "I'm sorry." Lilian says, letting go. "I must not be as good at it as I thought. It looks like I've been a little too rough both times now. You really didn't have to try and hold it back for my sake." She watches Meika withdraw her hands into her lap with a note of guilt, undercut by just a hint of second-guessing confusion. 'Yes. I- I don't want to give it up. Why would I want to? It's... all a part of who someone is, right? And what's there to go back to that could matter more?' "Why would you want to? Well, I have your sister's answer as to why she would. But for you, well, I did ask you, didn't I? So you tell me." Something about the returning steadiness in Lilian's stare, her posture, says that this is the answer that she'd expected-- no, not just that, but one that makes more sense to her. That seems to give her the boost she needs to get over the last of what she meant to say. Lilian sets her sketchbook down on the table, turns it fully around with a twist of her fingertips, leans forward until her elbows are on the table, and laces her hands under her chin. The page, fully revealed, has absolutely nothing to do with the scenery. A haze of pencil in imperceptibly subtle shades and fine smudges, drawn-around rather than erased at certain points, conveys the shockingly three-dimensional shape of a quiet cityscape at night. At the foreground, a grassy hillside similar to the present one is depicted with surreal attention to the subtle bleed of moonlight across waving grass; the exact moment of the entire field's rippling motion is perfectly caught, frozen in the moment, in a way that makes the light feel almost too-real; fully engrossing, absorbing view into the dark scene. The center composition is occupied by Meika herself, fully transformed, looking over the urban horizon. Her costume has clearly been recreated from memory, but Lilian's memory might be better than anyone but Meika's here; every detail is accounted for, burned in without error, and only the overall composition-- the subtle fudge of lines, accentuating key points of silhouette, glossing over forgettable flats and corners, warped slightly by the immaculately rendered moonlight gleaming off every knightly plate-- shows just how much that vision of Meika is 'how Lilian saw her' and not referenced from a photograph. Only half her face is visible, but it's enough to notice the slightly exaggerated youth in its curves, the beautifully flattering rendition of complexion and eyes, far smoother and far sharper and brighter than reality, and the distinct sense of quiet excitement Lilian has never seen her wear in an expression. It's simultaneously so crystal clear it could be photorealistic, and so dreamy that it feels closer to a memory than an exact replica could be. Yet, at best, it's merely a romantic portrait of a magical girl, younger, prettier, more hopeful, than the real one. But the ribbon is the right shade, even in grey. "Take the offer, Chevalier Vermillion." Lilian says. It isn't a question anymore. "Two four-hour shifts per week. One of those can be 'assisting' me in the field. For the rest, you'll be working under the people I know who can help you." she says. "Gain the experience, take the resume entry, get your sister to realize you're taking the rest of your life seriously, and then show me that you want this more than anything you've ever wanted before."
Lilian Rook	Lilian needn't even say what 'this' is. The gravity of it is infectious. She knows not to utter its name. To not fully whisper it out loud, in case that fragile hope might burst. "There was a girl who felt the same way as you. Much angrier. She wanted to make her last days as herself into an act of vengeance on everyone else. She intended to die before that dream of hers was over. That's when I decided to start helping." Lilian says. "You won't remember everything. But you won't forget what you let me remember too. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you until I know that you're serious. I doubt you'll find a better offer, and it's still possible you might change your mind entirely, but . . ." "I won't know unless you tell me, Chevalier. And you already know you won't keep anything unless you try."
Meika Kirenai	'It's just a rule of life.' Meika deflates, just a hair's breadth. "Yeah." She can't speak to the rule, or to the- Twenty-five? -but she still admits, indirectly, to the fib. "It's not going to come back like it was, still. Too old for chances at home leagues. Bad medical record, so international scouts wouldn't even look twice. I've- I know that's out the window. I liked thinking about it while it lasted, though." She kicks her legs under the table, even as the clumsiness of a cast-weighted leg thunks into the leg of her own chair. She sips at the last of her tea, and tries not to think too long on matters of makeup and eyeshadow. 'That bothers me.' "It's- it's what works, for me. I figured it out myself, without- Nobody told me that's how to do it. But... I know better than to try without. I don't really like that part of it either, but good things don't come from giving nothing up." Meika lasts a moment actually keeping her eyes locked with Lilians, even as her fingers start to tap anxiously on the table. There's a spark of guilt in their vibrant red. Ever so slightly more than usual. '...You should be far more careful in who you attach yourself to from now on.' "I think- I think some of the people there agree with you. Like Miss Angela. I think she's given up on... yeah." Her unconscious fidgeting returns- 'And it's also very brave of you to not run away.' -And slowly stops, her posture sinking in a way that intends, and fails, to hide a faint flush in her face. Acknowledgement of bravery doesn't often pair with pointing out mistakes, but when it does, from her, it's far harder for Meika to brush the thought off as a hollow platitude. "I'm glad you don't hate it." "Those, um, commandments you bring up, always sound important to you. What are they a part of..?" The word formatting of them always strikes Meika's ears as similar to the Decalogue, making each reference Lilian's made to them sound more like a fragment of a lecture- regardless of intent. Meika sucks air through her teeth. "I know you're not obliged to offer. I don't- I don't have a good reason. I'm sorry. Kayoko wouldn't be upset, I don't think. But it's... there's always something for others to be mad at. I'm worried people wouldn't believe something like that offer. Anything... prestigous, for me? It'd sound like a joke." She exhales, and quiets up for a moment. 'It looks like I've been a little too rough both times now.' "No, it's- don't be sorry. It's fine. I'm-" Protesting this brings a strange twitch to Meika's lip, as she extracts her hands from her lap, and places them on the table edge, trying to prove the point. "I can handle rough." The words feel weird to let leave her mouth, clumsy and ill-thought through. "No, it's- Um. That doesn't really hurt. I- I appreciate it. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to..." She quiets herself from her stumbling words. Embarrassed as she is, she hopes her intent to quell guilt carries through. A sigh punctuates her silence in tandem with pattern-tapping heels. Get it together.
Meika Kirenai	'So you tell me.' "Okay." Meika holds her breath for a long moment, and slowly lets it out. "I know the duty is scary, and dangerous. I know how much fighting takes up, to care about how I should. I know that... Cobalt can handle it, even if I'm not there, especially with Love and Justice too. That she'll remember who she can. That the Lord wouldn't leave our city ungaurded, after us. I should- should be able to breathe deep, and stop. Move on." "But it's mine. It was mine, first. I- I owe more than I have time for, the calender's making that real clear, but... I don't know who I'd be without it, too. I don't want to know. I don't think that'd still be me. I don't like thinking I'll have to just-" She pauses, and shrugs. "...Guess it wouldn't even be 'getting over it'. Too painless." Slowly, as Lilian turns the sketchbook around, Meika's posture lightens up. Eyes forget to scowl. Her fingers reach out at it, not touching it, but hovering close, as she scans the artwork. She'd gasp, if the slight slack to her lips could form any sound at all. Is that how- It's so much different than pouring over a mirror, lensed by personal judgement. A guilty pang pushes the thought that it must be over-flattering, but the blatant effort of it all casts that notion as silly. The hint of guilt remains, but comes in tandem with a faint bit of pride. Chevalier Vermillion existed drawn on paper before in flesh, before that name existed, shaped out by Meika's own handiwork. Seeing her in another's, through tear-smeared eyes, causes her to sniffle. "...You're amazing at this..." She doesn't want to pull her eyes away, even as wiping tears with her wrist cuff fails to clean up her smeared vision. It's fitting, for a drawing made like a memory, to fill any small gaps with what's still held in her mind. 'Take the offer, Chevalier Vermillion.' "Okay. I will." Soft and even in tone, it's quite the informal agreement. No metered 'Yes, Chevalier Rook', just an honest 'Okay'. Despite everything, she's still a kid. Meika wipes her eyes again- their odd, striking red irises only spotlighted by the attention motion draws. "I'll- I'll show you I do." Eight hours a week is manageable. Easy, even, given it wouldn't need untruths to navigate. It's less time than Meika spends at her part-time job, and far less than she's used to spending on patrol. Agreeing comes with a lightness in her words, that the magical girl finds ever so scary. "Did she..?" Make it? Fail to? Meika can't settle on way to end her question in a way that doesn't taste bitter. "Something's better than nothing." A soft nod, agreeing with the sentiment. Better offers aren't something to hold out hope for. I don't want to change my mind. "Thank you, Chevalier Rook. I- I know I won't. I'll try. I promise I'll try." Absentmindedly, her finger reaches up to touch at her hair, as a strand tickles her ear. The style she's put it up in, more, the gesture it contains, doesn't feel quite as childish or ridicule-worthy as it did before.
Lilian Rook	The expanded explanation of Meika's hockey dreams causes the corner of Lilian's lips to twist, then freeze in place; a structural support in keeping the rest of her face from falling. It strikes her that the way she thinks about these things is always in 'eventually's and 'by my self's; a mindset where no doors can be closed by time because she made it that way. Having to confront that Meika has actually missed her shot at something she cared about, in her own homeworld, is a special kind of uncomfortable. Enough for her to leave it alone and move on. 'It's- it's what works, for me.' "We all find our ways to get by." Lilian says, neither quite affirmative nor derisive, but finding a razor thin boundary to balance on between them. "And some of us have to figure it out for ourselves, yes." Still that way. "So it's messy, and rough, and it hurts us, but it works. I know" In the act of talking, Lilian finally starts to tilt from the edge between tones, and abruptly falls in a third, unexpected direction. "And then when the right person comes along, and shows you how to do it properly, you've mastered the old way so thoroughly that you can't bring yourself to start all over again. So you take what they teach you, and you painstakingly redefine what you know, until it works without hurting anymore." The realm of faded sentimentality. "I suppose it is what it is. My apologies for speaking out of line." 'good things don't come from giving nothing up.' "Indeed they don't. That's a mature attitude to have." Lilian says. She gives off the impression she wants to nod in satisfaction, at the correct answer, but can't quite. "But keep in mind, from now on. What you can give up is . . . your time, your effort, money, safety, your choices, your sense of certainty; things you manage on a day to day basis. Anything you pay for by giving up 'you' won't replace the piece you lost. So please learn while you can, that you can only spend so much of yourself so fast." Lilian pauses. "Of course I don't mean 'don't work too hard', or 'don't risk too much'. It's already too late for that, with the duty you've been called to. I just mean . . . give yourself time to make more memories. Do you understand?" 'like Miss Angela. I think she's given up on... yeah.' "She's given up on too much. She is the biggest victim of that entire place, Meika, but . . ." Lilian breathes in deeply. The way she hangs her explanation feels as if she's trying to boil down something very very complicated into something simple enough for a teenager to grasp. It's enough to ready up for a condescending 'good enough' version. Instead, she only sounds inscrutably tense, in the end. "Victims who've hung on long enough often become very good at hurting people." 'I'm glad you don't hate it. Lilian joins Meika in being able to relax again. The smile the magical girl drags out of her is of an unusual sort of near-demure confusion, like she doesn't quite know what to think of Meika's blush. Answering questions is easier, and it's one she likes anyways, so she glides onwards with endlessly forgiving professional grace. There's simply no need to question something as innocent as turning a little red. "Nothing so grand as a holy book, I'm afraid; the old language is an affect of the way it was enshrined." Lilian says. "The Code of Thirteen. It's a very condensed set of guiding principles, configured to be easy to memorize and to translate well without losing context, and written with the idea in mind that . . . their meaning is inherently somewhat open-ended, because they're written so that anyone could interpreted them 'mostly correctly', and, more importantly, in a way such that any 'mostly correct' interpretation still results in an act of good; not just shades of evil, without a perfect understanding."
Lilian Rook	"They were written up by-- No, you're old enough. It's an agreement between heroes. The final shape of their vision for how to live until the heroes were no longer needed, and how to live their 'never again'." Lilian squeezes herself a little tighter with her folded arms, but tilts her chin back, sounding a note of discomfort and another of pride. "At a time of my life where I didn't have any guidance, and I didn't trust any longer that I really knew what was right and wrong, I decided I'd start following them too. If they were good enough for the people I respected so much, they were good enough for me. And now I'm here." It wouldn't be that different from the typical youth pastor talk; saved by the Word at their rock bottom and 'look at me now', by the standard script. Save the nearly-missable inclusion of one word that changes the tenor of all of it. 'Decided'. 'I can handle rough.' Lilian hesitates, opens her mouth, makes eye contact with Meika, closes it again, and draws back her hands. "Thank you for saying so." she says, visibly, consciously, defaulting to contented noncomprehension, rather than question her. "Then I won't feel guilty about it." She looks perfectly attentive to hear Meika answer her own question. This meeting is about her feelings; what's going on inside her, not whether she passes or fails a grade. So Lilian wants to hear everything she's willing to say. 'But it's mine.' "Yeah." Lilian slips into a different, third language for the span of one word, spoken so softly and thoughtlessly it likely wasn't meant for anyone's ears. Meika is left helplessly alone in trying to decipher what it really means. The instant comes and goes so quickly that all she can process is the naked, smoking, heat in that husky-voiced moment of unimaginable relief before it feels like a product of her charged and overactive imagination. "Thank you for telling me." Lilian says, as if nothing at all changed. "I understand. And I know that wasn't easy." She glows, just a little in the breathless pause between receiving her answer and revealing her page. 'Is that how-' "Y-- 'You're amazing at this' "-ou could say that." says Lilian. Her eyes dart down to the page for a split second, as if not knowing . . . how to handle the compliment? But then they flick right back up to Meika warmly. "'Good' comes out of lots of practice and a little bit of talent. But you know, Meika. 'Amazing' comes out of having hit what feels like your limit, and still pushing on anyways. You can only be amazing at something after you thought you were done for good." Lilian's fingernails graze over the seam of the page, flattening it down. Her right hand finds Meika's, seeing it hesitate to reach out, and in equal turn, lays warmly over hers, guiding her down to touch the paper. Just by the edge. To confirm its reality, without laying hand on the girl on the page. "It's yours." she says. The slightest pull on the book detaches the page, and leaves it in Meika's grasp. "This is something I can afford to give up. Because I'm still creating new things every day. So please, take it. I drew it so you could have it in the first place."
Lilian Rook	'Okay. I will.' It should be normal that Lilian breathes a sigh of clear and evident relief at hearing those words, but it still feels striking that she does. No wonder, really. It's an admission, after the fact, that she'd have had concerns. That she wasn't completely confident she could simply force Meika to go along, or apathetically content to punish her and forget about it should she refuse. Even if she had all of the leverage from the start, again, there's that little sign that she didn't quite have absolute power. Lilian releases Meika's hand, and brushes her own hair back over shoulder, absently equalizing which volume of perfect black silk lies forward on each side, as a habit of decompression. "Thank you very much, Meika. It takes a lot of weight off my mind to hear it." she says. "And I know you'll do better than 'try'. I don't think I could bear to pull this away from you over a breach of trust, and I think you feel the same way too." Sorting her belongings and finishing the last of her tea in the long prelude to getting up again, Lilian spends the short while she has remaining in this dreamy little break in her schedule in thought, on something particular. Setting down her cup, she waits for the neat little clink to subside, and says, 'Did she..?' "She's in the process of becoming herself again. A little bit more each day. That's how it always is, Chevalier Vermillion. Nothing is as easy to get back as it is to lose. So please remember, each day you get a little closer, a little better, is a day you've done exactly what you needed to."