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Persephone Kore      A message, delivered however you like:
     "Hey! Remember when Lily-R said she'd make a contribution to the project? I told you all about that, didn't I? It's finally ready! The kids are so worked up, I'm sure we'll need playmates to tire them out. And it's a good excuse to have you all over, ahaha!"
     SIGNED
     - oh, you know me! Don't fake!

     And a sour appendix, very clearly tacked on by someone else:
SAPIENT HEURISTICS CULTURAL VISITOR PROTOCOLS, CA. 12/01/AU33
- Avoid making and, where possible, thinking normative judgements ("should", "right", "wrong", "normal", "weird").
- Avoid expressing and, where possible, feeling approval or disapproval, except where pride or guilt already exist.
- Be utterly kind.
- Leave no objects behind that have not passed psychometric sanitation and ideological approval.
DIRECT QUESTIONS TO DR. JOCELYN CARPATHIA, PHD, SH GUARDIANSHIP COMMITTEE

     But don't pay too much attention to her. You're here to have fun! Remember that!

     Sapient Heuristics is a space station just past the orbit of Pluto, population 700, in an unremarkable solar system that unified twenty years ago. There aren't many reasons to build so far out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you're working with something very dangerous. Maybe you're working with something very precious. Ahaha, some people think I'm both! But I'd never be dangerous to you.

     Approach is through space or via artificial warpgate. Both lead to the hangar, gunmetal-gray and stacked with boxes and cables. It isn't a beautiful place, but there's beauty on both sides: behind, the tapestry of space through a shimmering crimson forcefield, with the Sun frayed by distance to a comfortable dot. Ahead, a temptingly apple-crimson hallway made of smooth plastic, gently curving out of sight.

     A sharp-featured, sandy-blonde woman- "Carpathia" by nametag- stands at the mouth of that hallway, skin slightly less wrinkled than the last time anyone saw her and dressed far too warm in a big baggy sweater. Her smile is kindly but her eyes are anxiously severe. "Well. Is this everyone? Quite a few new faces, which I can't say I'm not nervous about. But if you're acquaintances of hers- come in, I suppose, come in. The new space is waiting on you."

     But there weren't any new rooms visible on the outside of the station, for those who flew in. And the warm psychic gravitas that was here from the first instant- gently soothing, massaging, weighing upon the mind, dragging down towards serenity- incrementally gets heavier the further one goes. Ahahaha, you're welcome!
Angela Angela wasn't actually told about it but she got the letter anyway and so she is sending Cinder and Yuri to bring her along today. Cinder, to carry the pad on which she will appear.

Cinder and Yuri arrive through a warpgate though when Cinder actually sees SPACE outside she jumps a little and presses a hand to her chest and takes several deep breaths. "We...we're actually in space."

"We're always in space. Space contains everything, you dork." Yuri quips, fondly, but despite this they both take a moment to just admire the stars even though the forcefield.

Cinder starts crying, tears just flowing down her cheeks and she's not sure why and Yuri rubs at her back and reassures her with a "There there... .There there... It's really something isn't it?"

"They actually...built something like this and put it in space, I can only imagine what Singularity they must be using..." Cinder whispers.

Carpathia arrives! Cinder stiffens and Yuri throws a casual wave to her with an easy smile. Cinder says, "M-ma'am!" She wipes at her eyes quickly. "Don't mind me, ma'am. Just admiring space, ma'am! Yes we were invited by 'her' ma'am!"

Angela sighs faintly. "This is their first visit into a space like this. Mine too, I suppose. I request your patience."

"Ahahah... wow... which dot's the sun?" Cinder bubbles.

"But if there is any additional information regarding protocol, we will strive our best to follow it."
Timespace Riders      The Tokiwa household-slash-clock-repair-shop is festively decorated, with tinsel hanging from the walls and a cute little Christmas tree set up in the small living room just past the front of house. Sougo sits in the dining room, his thoughtful expression at odds with the pastel yellow walls as he contemplates a freshly cleaned plate.

     The sound of the bell near the front door distracts him from his rumination, just slightly. He knows that it's Woz, coming back in from checking the mail.

     "My Demon King," says the retainer with a small smile, "A missive arrived for you from the Queen of Space."

     "Phony?" asks Sougo, brightening up a little. M.O.M. is still wearing heavy on his mind, even if he won't say so.

     Woz nods, handing the letter over to Sougo. "None other. She inquires as to whether she may expect your company at Sapient Heuristics."

     Sougo smiles warmly, but doesn't say anything, falling silent as his smile gradually fades into a frown. His mind concocts excuses, justifications...

     "If I may be so bold, sire," says Woz, gently placing a hand over Sougo's, "It would perhaps do you some good to spend some time in the company of friends." He squeezes, gently.

     Sougo pushes out his seat, holding the letter gingerly as he rises. "Okay," he says after a moment. "Okay. You're probably right. I'm gonna... get freshened up, and change clothes. I'll meet you outside." The Demon King gently pecks his retainer on the cheek.

LATER

     Sougo and Woz step through the artificial warpgate into the hangar. The Demon King wears a long grey cardigan (the hems terminate halfway to his knees), a mustard button-up with a flared collar, and rolled blue jeans. The hem of the jeans is red, emphasizing the white sneakers he's chosen. Woz wears what he always does--the olive-drab double-breasted greatcoat, with its snap-button sleeves partially open at the shoulders. His grey scarf rests neatly in place, and his black leather ankle boots thud softly against the hangar floor as the two of them approach.

     Sougo eagerly takes Dr. Carpathia's hand in both of his own and shakes fervently. "Hi! I'm Sougo. This is my retainer, Woz." It's a bit of an affectation--but the effort in putting it on helps clear some of the stormclouds.

     Woz places his free hand over his heart (the other is occupied with lugging a mysterious blue book around)--and bows slightly at the waist.

     "Felicitations, esteemed doctor." Turning, slightly, to face Angela, "Fret not. This would be our first visit, as well."

    Back to Carpathia: "--my Demon King and I are pleased to make your acquaintance and to sample your hospitality." It should be noted, for those yet acquainted with him, that in his bright colors, with his soft features and gently swept auburn hair, Sougo doesn't look like much of a Demon King. Still, to be called such by Woz brings a little glow to him. Maybe it's a term of endearment?

     The further the two get, the more easy Sougo finds it to smile--the less of an act it is. Thanks...
Captain Hook      Second star to the right and then keep on 'till morning light.

     Captain William Hook has one hand on his cheek, staring out the window of the shuttle the whole time. He insisted on the shuttle, even though the warpgate would be faster and more convenient. He chose to take the shuttle because it was *there*, and it *was* slower and less convenient, and sometimes, taking the slower, longer path about is the more interesting one.

     The whole time up he kept his eye on that star. That same star. The whole time. As if, if he looked away, it might sneak up on him. And his usual smile is dry and unhappy the whole way up.

     Still, it's hard to be unhappy around Persephone, at least for Will. All the more importantly because it has nothing to do with her power and everything to do with Will's own choices. William Hook is always happy around Persephone because he *chooses* to be, and that, he feels, makes all the difference in the world. No need for that vast psychic warmth when he can simply radiate warmth for her to touch and know that it's love chosen and given freely, love offered and happily, the love of a friend to whom one means dearly.

     When Hook disembarks, though, he's still watching that star out of the corner of his eye. He doffs his hat (with his hook hand) and bows, sweeping the feathery thing across his chest like an old-school gentleman straight from Eaton. "Enchante. Captain William Hook, at your service." He straightens and winks at Cinder and Yuri.

     "The stars my destination," he says idly before he hooks an arm around Cinder's shoulders, holds up her hand, and points it at the sun's dot. "That one, dear girl. That one is the sun. Sailors always know the sun, it's the one that doesn't appear in the sky when all the rest do, so it's always the one missing when the rest are out. Look for the one that oughtn't be there and you'll find it every time."
Lilian Rook     For some reason, the mere sight of Carpathia's face makes Lilian smile in a way that is mostly coy and just a little bit proud.

    It's not as if she never comes by, but it's rarely for long, and rarely for any special occasion. It can't quite escape notice that Lilian's dress has evolved to the point of being ready for a summer outing, here, compared to the nearly doll-like layers of yesteryear.

    Showing up in a tie-back cross top and godet skirt with high strap sandals is meaningful in of itself, even if she knows what's here. A simple celtic knot keeps her hair reasonably managed while let down her back. When she fully turns her head, a sliver of gold ink on the skin beneath peeks out. A black-striped bracelet hangs proudly from one wrist, when she reaches out to take Carpathia's hand in both of hers, and squeeze lightly in awkward fondness, in place of a shake. Her nails are painted, soft black under dusty gold ripples.

    "They won't cause any trouble, Carpathia." Lilian says. Her smile is a little tight, but for unpractised genuity, rather than tension. "I promise. Okay?" It's delivered with a confusing sort of unguarded warmth that is also somehow a weighty warning. "This is the part where you get to enjoy a moment of seeing all your hard work pay off. She and I are both here, and I bet we agree that it's non-optional."

    Just that shade of red alone is enough to put Lilian at ease. The familiar way she can trail her fingers along the walls, and feel a memory like a durable old, well-loved handheld game console, is like calming natural noise. Despite the presence of near strangers, the surroundings here more than drown out any sense of Lilian's unease. She navigates the smooth curves of the hallways half by memory, eyes closed to feel her own breath, and hear her own softened footsteps, for long stretches of the journey. The sounds here place a feeling like the slight physical weight of her soul somewhere squarely in her chest.

    "I'm really happy about this." Lilian says to Carpathia out of nowhere. "Things that grow are still alive."
Madeleine Cadrasteia Madeleine Cadrasteia steps through the warpgate, clad in her usual black leather and vinyl, minus the chainmail for this occasion. She cracks her neck to one side, tips her head in the other direction... and stops. Something was wrong here - or, nothing was, and that itself wasn't supposed to happen. Comforting, in the way that falling into a fire and finding it tepid might be. Not to mention a show of what the psychics here could do. She finishes her stretch, a little slower now, and half-forces a gentle smile. Perhaps this little outing could be worth it after all.

    The huntress looks to Dr Carpathia and tips her head in a nod of greeting. "You must be the good doctor. I am Madeleine Cadrasteia. It is nice to meet you. Which way to the, ah, new facilities?"
Xion Xion had declared an end to being the 'Hero of Everyone's Hearts' when she had ceased being a member of the Watch. Between titles, between dreams, she fell into a wandering pattern and moved away from what she knew to try something different. She had started that way, agitated by lack and pain until she made a decision to live, when she was simpler and emptier.

But what sloshed around in the pail of her chest, heavy within her, thumping and slopping against the walls inside her chest was relentless. Constantly beating, constantly needing, constantly aching when unsatisfied. Hate was the first emotion she understood completely, used to engineer so many others, and it was hate that rose to the top of her bucket when she was lost and searching.

She hated it. But she didn't know what to do. So Xion asked her friend Lilian about what could be done - what felt good to do, and what could even satisfy someone like her. 'Someone born with a blade in hand.' Something held, and swung, and willful.

It was not days later that Xion was forwarded the invitation to Sapient Heuristics from Lilian. Immediately accepting the RSVP, seeing as it was both from Lilian and about someone Lilian spoke highly of now, it was not until she was balancing her phone on her all-white desk (in her all-white room, in Castle Oblivion) trying to multitask that she started down the list of rules. It was in a different colored text! Nobody reads down the subject line and the first few sentences, but this was a bulleted list, and...

"Oh." Stopped the noirette cold, flipping the phone up in her hands and whisking down the body as more -- and more!! -- rules were beneath the FW: line. Horror, and worse, grimaced across her face, twitching at her cheek with a sick chuckle.

"Oh I'm going to need a secret weapon."

LATER, THROUGH THE WARPGATE,

Xion arrives through the artifical warpgate out into the station in Lilian's wake, falling into a loose Player Two pace behind them. Dressed in a 'winter holidays' getup of black winter boots with a white fuzz puff coming off the top, black leggings, and dark navy jean shorts with black belt and silver clasp. Layered jackets cover her top - a dark denim button-down over a white-black checkerboard hoodie, and past the half-zipped hoodie is just the top of a novelty bow-tie and tuxeudo print t-shirt. Without knowing the formality of the event, she split the difference by wearing her Adventure Canadian Tuxedo over her Tuxedo-Print Tee. That's fashion, right?

Safely tucked into the inside pocket of her denim jacket is a silver flask filled entirely with chocolate syrup that has already a little sip taken out of before joined, microdosing on chocolate sauce to keep her intrusive thoughts at bay.

"Wow, you've been here often Lilian." Xion offers in walking-comment, leaning around Lilian to blink bright blue eyes at Carpathia. "Well, I'd say I doubt it'll be a tornado on a space station, but then it'd be two tornadoes just to really drive it home that I'm not safe." A moment passes. "I'm. . . a tornado specialist." The noirette adds in passing explanation, hoping the context helps. It might not on *other* space stations, but... This one is special.
Persephone Kore      Carpathia's eyes fix on Cinder's tear-shiny cheeks first. "Oh, dear," she says from some parental reflex. "That won't do. Here. Are you quite alright?" She hurries forward with little steps, reaches into her pocket, and offers some tissues. One can see the exact moment she realizes-remembers Cinder isn't a child, and her worried frown sets a bit more professionally, but the tissues are still warmly offered.

     "No patience needed at all. Angela, isn't that what she said? It's been so long since I've been to Earth, maybe a blue sky would make me cry too," Carpathia says.

     The warmth comes back when Lilian comes through. "Oh, my," she says. "And you are living, aren't you? Look at you. You're the only one who can make that promise that I don't feel guilty asking it of." She pauses partway through handshaking, looks embarrassed, and then shakes her head. "But I should be treating you like a subject, now. Perhaps I should be guilty after all."

     Sougo's handshake, firm as it is, puts her a little off-balance: she's perhaps in her fifties, but the kind of old where one becomes delicate like frosted glass. Maybe that's where Phony learned to be gentle from. "Sougo. Woz," she echoes. And then, with a little laugh towards Will: "My goodness. Enchante and felicitations. Now I feel underdressed. But it isn't my hospitality you should be thanking. I'm afraid it's natural that I still treat this place like a cleanroom, and Persephone like... well, like home."

     "Madeleine Cadastreia," she says next, with a gentler handshake offered. "What a pretty name. Did you choose it yourself?" And then, smiling indulgently at Xion like a shy animal: "And who is this, Lilian? Another friend of yours? I'm sure they're wonderful."

     When the greetings are all done, she leads the way. The hallways widen and wind, flowing like rivers. An irony of space stations is that 'space' is at a premium: they're places for pure function. Only this one isn't. It's an understated work of art, falsely modest for its true opulence of comfort. Nooks and crannies are stuffed with vibrant plants or coffee tables, tidal pools where people linger. It feels like a library, or the good parts of a mall, or a village square.

     Researchers and subjects mingle in the hallways ten-to-one, the only distinction being the fuzzy boundary of age: the oldest subjects still under thirty, and the youngest staff just above. You can feel a little tug walking by some of them, a nudge of happy pressure. Almost insignificant, compared to the welling force ahead. Its warmth gets deeper, heavier, more pervading with every step, and who knows how far its epicenter still is? Ahahaha, doesn't it feel like you'll be absolutely doomed if you get closer? But don't worry even a bit! I've never hurt anyone in my whole entire life.

     "Of course you're safe," Carpathia says to Xion as they walk. "This is the safest place there's ever been. It is important to not feel otherwise. Isn't it unfortunate, to feel as though you might be a danger to others? Children can't be raised like that."
Persephone Kore      Finally, after another minute or two just of exploring- it feels like 'exploring' and not 'navigating', somehow- the hallway opens up into a central atrium. Walkways crisscross a gorgeous garden, silky grasses and plentiful wildflowers for frolicking in, and a magnificently weathered tree for shade, all under a high dome to the stars. Children play and laugh, and young adults sit and read, and researchers babble among themselves.

     And there she is. And there I am!

     When Persephone Kore turns to look at you, her hair and dangle earrings swim as if in zero-G, and those near-orange eyes smile themselves shut in a look that ought to be reserved for religious iconography. Starlight is cast down through the branches of the tree to dapple her face, but it radiates from within her, too.

     From fifty feet away, it already feels like I'm holding you in my cupped hands, so carefully, so sweetly- a little treasure! A firefly I've found. A tiny, delicate, glowing joy.

     Hey: what's a "singularity"? Am I it?

     "Persephone. Is it ready?" "Of course it's ready," she says, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear on approach. "I just wanted everyone to be able to see! And I'm so, so glad you can. Especially you, Lily-R!"

     She looks out the atrium dome's windows. Crates of building supplies are visible, lazily drifting in the void.
Angela If you don't experience time at 1,000th the normal rate you might miss the flicker of concern--and relief--in Angela's eyes when Sougo arrives. She doesn't feel much for M.O.M. She's seen M.O.M die tens of thousands of times. It has not quite hit her that this one might be permanent but she does worry about Sougo, someone she has never seen suffer before quite like this. She seems relieved that he seems to be doing better.

She naturally offers a, "Greetings Dame Commander," since she considers referring to Lilian as Dame Commander and acknowledging it as one of her duties. She is surprised to see Xion come with Lilian and, totally oblivious to her situation, says, "Hello Xion ........" She trails off at 'tornado specialist'. "...You are a tornado specialist?" Between Xion thinking Angela is trapped on a phone and Angela thinking Xion's a tornado specialist, this comedy of errors may continue for some time yet.

Cinder blinks rapidly at being offered tissues. This almost makes her cry more but she manages to rein it in. "Oh, um, sorry. It's just really amazing getting to... See something like this, never thought it'd be possible..." She takes a deep breath. "Sorry,, I'll be okay."

Angela raises an eyebrow at Persephone. "Ah, she ... informed you about me? I see. She nods once.

Cinder's cheeks are bright red. Cinder really isn't a child but this is the closest thing she's ever had to a parent caring for her like one. It makes her feel strange and weirdly grateful but reminds herself of the fact it's not actually a relationship they have so she'll just hold onto quietly to the feeling so she can remember what it is supposed to feel like when she needs it.

Angela's gaze takes Madeleine in for a time. Direct and to the point. Angela can appreciate that. She nods to her, "Hello, we spoke on the radio." She's Concord...? "I am Angela."

Yuri winks back to Hook (Cinder is distracted) but Angela is pleased to see Hook though she doesn't smile. This is a Persephone-related event and she's worried she'll smile more than she'd like to present herself as prone to if she isn't careful. Persephone has a certain effect on people.

''Hey: What's a 'singularity'? Am I it?''

Cinder says, "Um, a Singularity is like an immensely powerful proprietary technology of a Wing that is wholly unique."

"So yeah, you're basically one." Yuri tells Persephone. "Guess that makes you priceless."

Cinder's cheeks turn bright red as she can't believe Yuri just said that.
Timespace Riders      I'm afraid it's natural that I still treat this place like a cleanroom, and Persephone like... well, like home.

    Woz smiles and inclines his head, ever so slightly. "I am not altogether unfamiliar with the feeling, Doctor."

    "It's probably the coziest cleanroom there's ever been," notes Sougo warmly as the hallways widen out. Crossing through the crimson river delta. When he feels that gentle, tidal pull along the way (like wading through a soft current) he lags, slightly, in his inexorable approach towards the largest of all.

Doomed? Perhaps. It may be said that one is 'doomed' to experience good things.
Haha... your presence... it's like a hot spring. Easy to get in, hard to get out.

    Into the atrium, and Sougo excitedly hangs on the edge of one of the walkways, his brown eyes alight and drinking in the carefully cultivated beauty on display--not just the garden, or even the tree, but the uindeniable peace and warmth radiating from the people basking in the former. In a way, they--and he, and Woz, are part of that garden, too.

    There she is--the epicenter of the tidal pull which guided the both of them, and presumably everyone else here, to this spot. Persephone Kore, the Queen of Space.

    Even though in a physical sense, Woz and Sougo are looking at her, from the other side of the garden, it feels more like they're looking -up- at her.

    "Hi, Phony!" calls Sougo, waving and smiling brightly, as he bounds excitedly across the walkway in big, eager steps. The twinging pain of something lost, at the back of Sougo's mind, is washed away by the gentle tide of Persephone's presence. If it comes back, it won't be here on the station.

    Woz follows behind, his pace more sedate, but he still offers her a full bow at the waist upon his arrival. "Greetings, O Queen of Space. We are delighted to be your guests, let alone to see what you have prepared." Woz pauses, glancing briefly at Sougo, before counting on Persephone's ability to see inside as she did when they first met. I am most grateful to you for extending the invitation. Sougo has been in need of reasons to smile as of late.

     "I don't think we've met," says Sougo to Madeleine. "But like I told Dr. Carpathia, I'm Sougo, and this is my retainer Woz." He offers a handshake, as eager as the one he'd given to the doctor, before turning back to Persephone. "Um, what -have- you 'prepared,' anyway? It looks like you're going to put something together out there." He nods towards the supplies drifting in space.
Madeleine Cadrasteia     Madeleine raises a hand in acknowledgement of Angela's greeting. "As a matter of fact, doctor, I did give this name to myself. It is a reminder of my strength." Strength that she feels uncomfortably distant from, now. Relaxation was too easy here. Madeleine was expecting this to feel like walking into a lion's den, but it *doesn't*, and that unsettles her. Danger, fear, tension, those were familiar. Comfortable, even, after this long. But here? Here was different. She hasn't felt this... fragile, like anything could happen to her, since-

    No. No, no, no! If there was one thing she should not, *must* not call to mind here, it was *him*. Surely this woman, the apparent source of this uncanny comfort would know Madeleine was holding something back, but the others? These children? He doesn't deserve a place in their minds. Madeleine concentrates, takes a deep breath, and purges her presence from the minds of anyone who's not paying direct attention to the guests. She slips into the center of the group, for good measure.

    Madeleine takes a moment to realize she's being addressed. "Ah, well met, Sougo. And Woz." She accepts the offered hand. Her own trembles ever so slightly in Sougo's grip.
Captain Hook      "Oh, I should think people always ought feel underdressed around me. If you're feeling overdressed to a pirate captain then it's a poor job the captain's doing, wouldn't you say?" Hook sets his hat back on his head. "Or at least a terribly *ordinary* job, and, my dear lady, I strive to be anything *but* ordinary."

     Hook is mostly quiet as they walk, taking it in. He's been in space in dreams and this reminds him very much of those dreams - those dreams he's delved into and scooped from and plundered and occasionally raided, those little moments of the future captured in the minds of the now. They're always very pretty dreams in their own way - though, usually in a sterile sort of way, and not this vibrant, living way.

     "I wonder," Hook says idly on the notion of children, but says no more. His thoughts are not written on his face but that hardly matters in this place - they're thoughts of the nature of safety, and whether little boys and girls ought be raised safely or ought be given wooden swords to play with so they don't go looking for them later in life.

     "Captain William Hook," he says to Madeleine as they walk, "A pleasure, madam."

     Hook being happy to see Angela is a given, and unlike Angela, he wears his good mood on his sleeve and his face. He's all smiles, is Captain Hook, all delighted smile as he waves his hook-hand at her screen lightly.

     "Hello, Persephone." Will puts his good hand on his hip and smiles at her. "Are you going to keep being secretive? I do love surprises, but I think you love revealing them far more than hiding them, don't you?"
Xion Not having quite noticed that everyone else was introducing themselves because Lilian was expected, Xion's mild surprise at being treated as a skittish animal mutes her mild shame at not introducing herself to the concierge. Doctor? Researcher?

The person kindly seeing them. That's good enough! Xion's eyes flutter, her face setting slightly as she considers how to answer fully, for someone without all her contexts. The noirette's eyes saccade flicker to Lilian, and then back as the group walks, and she takes a steadying breath. Then, remembering she has chocolate, she sneaks a quick little pocket-warm chocolate sip and thinks sugar and cacao thoughts instead. Of course, after, it comes to her.

"Ah - I'm between titles, but my name is Xion." She answers, as they leave for the cozy square-space. As they walk, and Carpathia speaks of safety, Xion nods as she responds. "I feel..." Testing the air and considering herself with a failing-eyed expression until she's looking at her own buttons and zippers and sleeves. "...pretty safe?"

Angela's greeting - using her name! - gets her to snap her expression up, the noirette smiling when she notices Angela. "Mmhmm! I'm a tornado specialist. Well, see, there's these little. . . evil gremlins that are like heart-eating darkness zombies from a horror movie - they spread as they attack people, and if it gets bad enough they start to get worse kinds of gremlins, like gremlins that look like buff guys, and gremlin tornados. The tornadoes are really bad because they can suck out the hearts of whole places they blow through, but it's okay--" Xion pumps her left fist and pats her bicep with her right hand. "--because I'll defeat the tornados before that happens."

From fifty feet away - close enough to be held in cupped hands and felt like a firefly, or perhaps a little beetle in a cocoon of shells and hoodies and jackets - Xion raises her hand to wave to Persephone, though really Phony knew from the moment Xion thought about it - 'Wow! (chocolate) And also: Wow!'. A kind of lingering impressedness, that dips when Madeline slides to the center of the group to refocus. Backing up a step, Xion draws her pocket-warm chocolate flask's mouth to the corner of her sleeve and wipes the top thoroughly, before offering the silver flask like sneaky alcohol to steady the trembling-handed woman.

It takes a moment longer for her to explain, gently: "It's chocolate!" In a hushed tone.

Trusting Madeline with her flask for a moment, Xion steps back forward. "Oh, hi again! This facility is very nice - or is there something nicer to show? It's already gorgeous." She compliments, not quite sure what the order of operations was but sensing a generally casual atmosphere. Warm, at least! Palms for fireflies and hoodie beetles to buzz.
Lilian Rook     Lilian thinks precisely two thirds of a thought about Xion's choice of dress, mouth hanging half-open, and then aborts it just in time to tear her eyes away before she utters a word. "I'm really happy you came." she settles on instead. A neutral-positive statement that is also true. "I wouldn't say often." she says, idly running her fingers through the hair back over her shoulder. "If I were here as often as I liked, I'd think that a little bit of the specialness might wear off. And I'd certainly be a little less tense."

    Lilian looks about the least tense she has in weeks.

    "You'll be fine." she says to Xion. Her hand hovers over their head for a second, casually unconscious rather than actively deliberating, before Lilian chooses to simply lean in instead, and squeeze Xion's shoulders in her arm; if but for a moment. "I'm a specialist in precisely zero of the things to be found here."

    'Greetings Dame Commander'

    "Good to see you! Does this count as an exchange tour?"

    'Oh, um, sorry. It's just really amazing getting to... See something like this, never thought it'd be possible...'

    "Oh, you're Petra's . . ." Lilian absently runs her finger over her cheek. "Everything is possible, now. That's what's worth holding out hope for."

    'And you are living, aren't you? Look at you.'

    This is a rare occasion where Lilian can't fully master her expression. A smile forces its way up that turns her cheeks pink and turns her eyes down in just an instant of guilty pride. "Despite everything, I am. I've been hearing quite a bit about trees, you see, haha~ It's a nice change of pace, from things that break and get put back together."

    'But I should be treating you like a subject, now. Perhaps I should be guilty after all.'

    "Come on now. It's a little too late to go about asking nothing unfair of me, Carpathia. I have too much experience with everyone else doing it already." Lilian says. "At least let me have that point of pride, won't you? If I can't be as lively and free as the others, it can be because I'm resilient and vigilant instead. That means you should ask me anything you need." A brief pause. "It'd make me happy if you did."

    'And who is this, Lilian? Another friend of yours?'

    "At minimum." Lilian says, without reservation. "Things haven't been kind to her lately, so I'm hoping they can get a break from it today."

    'what's a "singularity"? Am I it?'

    §It didn't take a Singularity to put this thing in space. But I suppose you probably are? The clue's in the name, isn't it? A single, indivisible point of infinite potential.§

    Entering the atrium, Lilian breathes in a deep lungful of warmly scented, immaculately purified air, and at the count of four, breathes out something that is just slightly the wrong shade of transparent. The slow, subtle release of psychic pressure from somewhere has the pinging and creaking quality of a house settling at night. A little groan of metal fatigue, felt in nerve endings, a breath of cold air, trickling into core heat, and a soft and colourless sense of light, somewhere behind both eyes.

    "I'm especially glad I get to see it, Phony. There's an awful lot of stuff out the window, though. If you weren't here, that wouldn't be very safe. Are the workers not up to cleaning it yet? Or . . ."
Persephone Kore      "It would make you happy if I were irresponsible, in other words?" Carpathia grumps good-naturedly. "You wouldn't be the first to say so, Lilian. I'll see if I can find room for any more irresponsibility on my plate."

     Carpathia starts to amble over towards the tree, but a thought arrests her, and she glances back at Madeleine shortly before she 'disappears'. "A reminder of strength. So I suppose it is. To make one's own path like that... ah, but I shouldn't assume. Please, forgive an old woman her follies." She shakes her head, scolding herself.

     "Sougo! Angela! Xion! Woz!" Phony approaches, and her clacky heels mark something in the atmosphere ratcheting by degrees. "And Will, of course!" A minute ago, it seemed inevitable that standing next to her would be annihilating. Now it just seems... nice. 'Hot spring' was really smart, ahaha! It's nice as long as you ease in, right?

     "Guess that makes you priceless."
     Persephone rocks back on her heels, and her fluttery hair follows. A little breath resolves to a smile. "Awwwww. But everyone's priceless, aren't they? You," she says while poking Yuri's chest, "and you," tapping Angela's screen, "and you," where the tears have dried on Cinder's cheek as if she could still see their trace. "That's what 'being a person' means, right? To contain a world. It's not right, to only notice that when they wear it on the outside!"

     Her eyes warmly linger on Madeleine and Xion after she says so, while a hand cups her cheek. Why those two, in particular? Because I want to let you know: I really do think you're gorgeous, too! Even if I haven't looked as deeply as I'd like.

     She takes a chance to pick Lilian up by the waist- apart from strength, center-of-gravity and personal space are rules Phony gets to defy- and spin her around with a laugh before setting her back down with a sweet kiss on the forehead. #-1 INVALID ANSI DEFINITION: #af0000 "Oh, my goodness, you look gorgeous. And you look very handsome, Xion- heart-eating gremlins, is that the sort of hero you are? I knew you must be gallant, but I suppose I never asked."

     Phony doesn't shake hands. Instead, she takes both of Woz's in hers and squeezes while looking him in the eyes, until a giggle forces hers shut. "You're welcome! And you're especially welcome, Lily-R. Don't worry- I've never kept a secret, and everything's safe when I'm here. Look, see:"
Persephone Kore      Kids by now have started to crowd around in anticipation, nearly pressing their faces to the glass. The crates outside spill their contents into space, walls and floors and pipes and electronic systems. Persephone walks a few paces to an airlock and opens it directly to space(!!), but that's safe too- don't worry!, and walks out a few more steps into the void. Her heels still clack, even without air to carry it, even without anything to stand on.

     "Let me see. It was like this, wasn't it?" She doesn't lift a hand, barely even glances. But the building materials start to slot together like puzzle pieces all around her; the walls approaching to enclose, a glass ceiling descending, the floor rising up to meet her feet. *Clunk*, and it all fits. *Squeak*, and a thousand screws all whirr into place at once.

     Nobody local seems to take it as especially shocking. Maybe a nice treat, like a trick with hoops and balls. While the kids press in as close as they're able, the older subjects hang back a little: a short stout woman with a pouty face and close-trimmed hair skulks over to warily appraise Xion's patted bicep, while a tall too-neat man who looks like he half-belongs in private school looks mildly startled to notice Madeleine.
     "How do you get into the tornado-punching business, anyway? Is there like a test to do it, or what?" She's clearly intrigued for some reason and trying not to show how bad.
     "Trouble fitting in?" the man says, while habitually fidgeting with his cuff. He looks crisply commiserating. "If you're worried, that means you're doing fine already." And he's right, you know! Maybe Carpathia says otherwise, but I'm in charge, and I say it really is fine to relax.

     Finally Phony stops holding the air in, and it rushes into the new room- almost like a second atrium- as a gentle breeze, that brushes the dust of manufacture off like cleaning a well-loved book. A gaggle of children follow, swarming in.

     It's a sporting room, hard-floored and with holographic lines and boundaries on the floor. A small gallery of seats on either side is clearly meant for the adults, but this isn't high spectator sport. There's immediately quibbling among grade-school-aged psychics about what to do first, and a consensus swings towards dodgeball, but a breakaway committee has already started on tag.

     Persephone covers her mouth, barely able to contain the sympathetic joy.
Captain Hook      'Contain the world.'

     Will lets his thoughts wander a bit at that phrase as Persephone busies herself with everyone else. Again he finds them travelling back to Neverland, to the girl who showed up at the end of his time as Hook, to the malicious malfeasance of the place. Everyone contains the world. Who contained that one? What does he contain? Probably not an especially lovely place, as a pirate, but doubtless not an especially cruel one, either, as he isn't an especially cruel pirate. Maybe people like Hook simply held a place inside them that just Was. Standout, perhaps. And that was probably the right of it.

     He watches her work with a quiet whistle. Then, the sporting room fills in, and the children go to play dodgeball, a game that had come straight to England from Africa before anyone else got a chance to play it. His smile grows warmer, and, like a proper pirate, he immediately does what he's supposed to do - he heads into the fray.

     William tosses his fanciful coat to the bleachers along with his hat, and, in a show of Big Brotherliness that can only reinforce that Yes The Man Had A Sister, Hook joins in the game. It's fair - they're psychics, and he's not, and he's not all that much stronger than a normal adult anyway. Moreover, he's not playing to win - he's playing for them to have fun, and it shows in the way he plays. He's conscientious about it. He's warm about it. He doesn't show off, or play like a mean adult trying to win a game, but like a slightly older boy making sure everybody gets a good turn, everybody has a little bit of challenge, and everybody has an easy target (it's him).
Madeleine Cadrasteia     Madeleine takes a sip of the chocolate, her face twisting at its sweetness despite Xion's warning. She opens her eyes as Persephone finishes speaking to the trio from Lobotomy Corp and freezes dead-still under the psychic's gaze, flask still half-raised to her lips. Kinder eyes have held worse intentions for her before. It is only after Phony has taken Lilian in her arms that Madeleine remembers to start breathing again.

    Compared to Phony's mental presence, the telekinetic assembly fails to astound the huntress. She's seen more precious things brought to ruin with less effort before. Of course there is something to be said of construction being more difficult than destruction, and so the display at least holds her attention enough that she has to suppress a small start when the tall man speaks to her.

    "I'm glad to not be the only one, then. It's just, the last time I really listened when someone told me to relax..." Madeleine trails off to take another sip of chocolate, and something dark rings in her mind like a great bell.
Xion Xion isn't qualified to wonder if Persephone is a singularity, nor does she have any real fear of falling in. Wandering dark corridors and tumbling through empty expanses towards a void was very usual to Xion, comfortable with the tumble of the atmosphere in a direction and treading water -- which, since they were walking and not floating, involved her standing loop to involve bouncing and little coat-ends wobbling in Phony's direction as they jangle.

'Palm' warmed by the (Phony's) atmosphere in the atrium, one that once eased into is just fine, actually!, the idle-bouncing noirette is warmed again by Lilian's explanation of her as a friend 'at minimum'. A winning endorsement, one that brightens the corners of her continuing interest in the grand event that seems to be about to take place. Then, she realizes the best way to categorize 'friend':

"She let me have a room at her place." Xion asides casually to Carpathia, the kind of gently added context slid in with the interchangeable tone of 'she's my landlord' and 'she invited me to her girl-collecting CRPG hub mansion after completing my loyalty mission'. The psychics in the room may note: It's about 70%+ the latter. She's very positive about it, unlike landlords.

"Oh, thanks!" Xion accepts the praise with a brightened smile, happy to have a compliment returned. She immediately switches to Tutorializing Pensive as 'heart-eating gremlins' is pressed. "The Heartless aren't very well named or threatening-looking at first, but I bet you know how literal the threat of whole worlds having their hearts consumed could be. As for gallant, well..." Xion breaks off speaking to look away, fiddling with her half-mast zipper but not moving it up or down, just turning the little tab over in her hands. "... I try to be." She 'admits'. It is something she was proud of before, at least for one person's sake, so she was allowed to say it.

Then she's asked about a tornado slasking license. "Oh!" Pivoting on the heel of one winter boot, she considers the short stout woman. Wary isn't exactly Xion's speed when asked tutorial questions -- it's back to pensive: "Well, I was actually recruited into the war pretty much as soon as I became a person, and Heartless are most easily defeated by a weapon of the Heart." Xion has an unnaturally accurate way of implying capital letters into spoken word, but also there's very powerful psychics around. She means something other than the meat object within the chest, though the metaphor gets very twisted and unspeakably complex after that. "So if you've got something like that, it's a matter of pacing and practice."

A beat follows, and then a frown, as tutorial-explanation breaks across her face for glum honesty: "--But, it's not really a *business*? It's... It's like hobby outreach work? I'm part of a cult, so they took care of me while I fought monsters."
Angela Angela observes that Lilian seems like she's doing well. She has seen reports of what happened in Rita's world--perhaps it is due to what happened in Stanley's world? It was rather stressful even with her minimal involvement so she can only imagine what it was like for Lilian herself. "We received an invitation and it has been some time since I've talked with Persephone--and I've never visited her home before." The idea of living this far away from others ...

Cinder says to Lilian, "Ah, yes ma'am! We met at the facility when she first visited." She pauses as Lilian says everything is possible. "...Yes ma'am. I hope I can see and experience some of it for myself."

Things haven't been ... kind to Xion lately? Angela gives Xion a thoughtful look. The matter is already being tended to by the Dame Commander but she does think about it. She'll just have to be her most polite self. Which isn't effortless because Xion speaks of fighting tornados as if that's a normal thing that happens and, well, it probably is if she's talking about it like that, but it's such a shocking thing it's hard to know what to say about it.

"I see. I am not sure I understand properly but it seems like you are doing important work." She makes a strange gesture with her hand as if she was about to thumbsup but decided against it at hte last momen. "Do you ... enjoy chocolate?"

She doesn't really understand the appeal obviously but she returns her focus on the matter at hand. "The tree is doing well, Persephone." Angela says. "It will be some time yet before it bears fruit but it is growing and healthy."

''But everyone's priceless, aren't they?''

Cinder says, "O-oh yeah, I mean. When you put it like ''that'', I guess you're--" Avoid using that word. "Being real reasonable?" Is she even supposed to avoid that with Persephone? Better safe than sorry.

Yuri smiles, "Aw, I don't know if I'm quite a singularity, but I think I'm pretty close. Thanks for noticing." S he winks to Persephone this time.

Yuri and CInder seem comfortable enough with children. They'll even join Hook in with the game so there's you know approximate equal adultness on both sides.

"Dodgeball." Angela says with a determined expression. "I know about this sport. How do you play it here?"
Timespace Riders      Right! Sougo beams brightly at Persephone. He looks as if he might float away, if not for the fact that his feet are on the ground.

    Woz, by comparison, offers Phony a catlike smile, meeting her eyes with his when she takes his hands. For her, it isn't smug, or condescending in the slightest, but assuredly the same kind of genuine play-slyness he shows Sougo. Because it is precisely that infectious laughter I had hoped to overhear.

    "Uwoh!" comes Sougo's endearingly buffoonish cry of surprise, when the airlock opens. He strikes a goofy stance like an extra in a low-budget sci-fi show rocking around when the 'ship' is hit by an 'explosion,' only to pause midway through, blinking in confusion. "But... why isn't all the gravity getting sucked out?"

    "...air, sire," Woz gently corrects. "And presumably, because the Queen of Space wills it to remain."

    Both watch, with their own forms of admiration (Woz's, regal and lofty; Sougo's, wide-eyed and wondrous), as it all assembles itself like magic. Sougo nearly loses his balance and falls over when the air *does* rush in (he'd held his same goofy pose the whole time).

    "That's really sweet, Phony," says Sougo warmly. "You managed to give lots of different presents all at once, you know?" A place to play, for all of the kids. A place to watch and cheer, for older-sibling-figures and faculty. And, the joy of seeing it be used, and loved, for the first time.

    "I know the feeling, to an extent," says Woz to Madeleine. "In time, good company balms old wounds, and sweeps one away to a newer, less hostile world, where the slings of those who wronged us seem far away. I wish you an expedient journey."
Xion > and a thousand screws all whirr into place at once.

"You're... really good at that. Are you more happy because you did it, or because it's done?" Xion asides-to-Phony, the topic intuitively clear when she addresses the woman overflowin with joy after screwing together a whole space station segment simultaneously with her mind.

That's a lot of screwing!

The look from Angela draws Xion back from Dodgeball, not that she especially thought she was invited as the children get into it. Captain Hook leaning into it will be a special spot for shortly after.

She matches the almost-a-thumbs-up, but seems disappointed when she's alone in the end. Closing her hand, she nods. "Chocolate and sweets are great for helping my. . . Moods?" It's not the word, really, not an elegant explanation of her issues, but the power of sugar and cacao thoughts was that chocolate made you feel good, and feeling good meant you weren't feeling bad. What else was there to say?

'You managed to give lots of different presents all at once...'

Xion drops her fist into her hand. "Oh this is *smart* holiday presenting. Getting one thing for everyone each is so hard, but this solves that perfectly, doesn't it? Wow!" But no (chocolate). Madeleine still has her flask.
Lilian Rook     'You wouldn't be the first to say so, Lilian.'

    "I know. But it's different when I ask." says Lilian. "Asking for you to be irresponsible on top of everything else is terribly greedy, you know. I'm simply cashing in my backlog." Even she can smile with her eyes closed, apparently.

    'Oh, my goodness, you look gorgeous.'

    "Tell me something I don't know!" come the words. The laughter at something so simple as being picked up by the waist casts them several shades different than how they already sound, warm to the point of husky with the accumulated relief of letting down so many walls. She's put down again with her hands on both of Persephone's shoulders, and by then, 'thirty feet away' feels different too.

    Lilian never did figure out how to let anyone in that way. It's not that she even tried to keep them out; the coordinates of the place inside of her are somewhere outside of the space of hearts and minds entirely. But, here at least, in this one place, it's not for want of being unknown. Since the day she'd first returned, and the triplets had looked at her in their way-- no, since a few days before, in diligent rehearsal, she'd practised the language of the children of space on her own. If they can't see in, then she just has to express outward.

    Tingling, aching relief. The feeling of sinking into a warm bath on a cold day. Finely layered guilt from the absence of the usual kind of guilt for being here; fine alarm and fascination at the weather out the window. Thick and intense nostalgia. The humming thrill of special day. The residual weight of something heavy and new on her mind, mostly good, and a little shameful, far at the back of her thoughts. The venting of the day's accumulated heat into a comfortably brisk night. Almost sleepy adoration at the sight of it all. The scents and sights of garden trees and flowers brought to frontal focus, in melange with the other thoughts.

    'How do you get into the tornado-punching business, anyway?'

    "I don't think you'd like it, Dylan. It's a little capitalistic, from what I remember. And tedious."

    'If you're worried, that means you're doing fine already.'

    "Oh please. We both know that's absolutely not allowed, Marc."

    For some reason, the sight of the fabricated deck-- the countless little bits and pieces put together by loving and enthusiastic hands from the raw materials to the finished product-- assembling itself from so many millions of interlocking components, utterly absorbs Lilian's attention in a strange and novel way. Much of the soothing cold and tingling warm light in her bubble is contracted inward and turned forward; a searching beam that sweeps through the intricate constellation of metal and plastic. Thoughts of black and gold.

    'She let me have a room at her place.'

    That thought processed late bumps Lilian out of her daydream. "I mean, there's a lot of rooms, and not many people there. And there are . . . enough people that I like. So why not?" she says. "No, there's a good 'why' for how it is. Having a home in someone's home feels right, when there's a place for them in that person's heart, too. Even if it's a home away from home, the more places you have go back to, the less any place in particular can wear you out and smooth you down. The more you have, the harder it is to feel threatened by one thing. And people are at their best when they're not."

    'Do you ... enjoy chocolate?'

    "Practically everyone does." says Lilian. "I'll have to remember to get you some, as part of your present."
Lilian Rook     Lilian stares into the sports deck where the void was a moment ago. "I need to figure out my own version of that heel thing you do." she says to Persephone. "It has so much presence, it honestly makes me a little envious, hah." The smile is irrepressible. Seeing the children already giddily pouring in is exactly what she'd hoped for. "I really was right, wasn't I? This place is absolutely beautiful. But it did lack a place to stretch your legs. Getting that energy out is a crucial part of existing, I think."

    She can't exactly play tag or dodgeball fairly. So she looks at Xion. The feeling of her entire psychic aura sways one way, then the other. A wind on the outside, crossing ways as it makes up its mind.

    "We could show off a little, if you like. You've been starving for that outlet too, haven't you?"
Persephone Kore      "Mmmm," Dylan says to Lilian skeptically, like tornado-fighting is ice cream and the grown-ups might just be telling her it's yucky. "Well, whatever. It's still at least a little cool."

     So Xion effortlessly enraptures her again. Anyone can see it on her lips that Dylan's's just about to ask if her sticker-smothered baseball bat counts as 'a weapon of the heart', when something at the end gives her pause. "Oh. Sorry. A lot of people tell me I'm already in a cult, so I'm not really sure that part's gonna work out. Maybe I'll just leave the gallantry to you."

     I hear that dark thing ringing, Maddie, but the elegant man shows no indication at all. Instead his eyes flick down in slight uncomfortable reflection, and he turns partly aside from Madeleine with hands on his hips. Diminishing scrutiny, to not seem intrusive.

     "I see," he says. "You've seen a lot, to hardly blink. And most of it bad by the way you hold yourself. Jocelyn wasn't hard on you, was she?"

     His eyes trace a line back to her, underlining the next words. "You don't have to relax, then. But you aren't too dirtied for this place, either. Everyone learns about pain someday. Or I suppose, what I'm saying is," he continues with eyes lifted now to Lilian, "I have to trust that being conscientious is enough."

     The kids- triplets who almost flow together, a freckled gap-toothed blonde girl, a graceful poofy-haired teenager, and lots more- are vicious. Some of them read minds, and those ones roll around thrown balls or grasping hands by inches; some of them morph space, and those ones wrap themselves in their own little protective universes of bent gravity; some of them move things, and that's bluntly obvious; and a lot of them are more than one. It can't possibly be fair between them.

     But it works out, sort of? They're all having fun. All the moreso when Yuri, Cinder, and Hook join in.

     Persephone telekinetically plucks Angela's tablet to keep it from getting beaned by a dodgeball, seats herself in a chair on the sidelines, and beams down at the phone-friend in her lap. "I really ought to visit again," she sighs contentedly. "It'll be wonderful to be there when it blooms, but it's not as sweet if I wasn't there to help water it, right?"

     She turns the tablet so Angela can watch the game, but keeps absentmindedly stroking over it with her fingers like she's petting a lapdog. "Huh? What do you mean, 'how do we play it'?" she says. "The same as everywhere else: whoever wants it most, wins." And then, a little slyly: "It's a grown-up's job to make sure of that."

     Phony perks up from the tablet-petting a moment later, when Sougo speaks to her. "Oh? Ahahaha. But it's really not my present at all! Lily-R paid for it all; I only had to put it together." Her eyes wander over to Xion, whom she regards warmly, elbow-on-armrest and hand-on-face. Her legs cross, and when Angela's tablet is slightly squeezed, its screen shimmers.

     "But I'm glad it's done. The doing isn't all that fun, most times! I just wish, and it happens. It's the putting smiles on people's faces afterwards, that makes it worth it. You know how that is, don't you?"

     "Hey, hang on," Dylan says suspiciously from her spot behind Xion. "What's a holiday?"

     Persephone's eyes linger on smiles and games for a good long while. But eventually, they also find a frown. Her gaze traces Madeleine's posture, her tight discomfort. And, looking into the otherworld of psychometric stains and bits of memory, she asks them: why are you the way that you are?
Angela ''I'll have to remember to get you some, as part of your present''

Angela worries both about finding an appropriate gift for Lilian and at the idea of being seen as someone who would like to receive gifts. Of course, Angela DOES enjoy receiving gifts from people she likes--such as Lilian--but is still not quite accustomed to receiving them. She also has decided she is not fond of gifts from people she doesn't know well and Petra's explanation as to why she might feel that way has seemed likely. And besides, stopping Lilian from being kind seems ... wrong. She didn't even slaughter people who literally poisoned her.

But she is also a woman who seems to have everything. Friends. A family that loves her, a caretaker, accolades, martial prowess, intelligence, confidence... What does she get her?

Her only clue is that she has a degree in biology. It isn't her main degree--but that is better than giving her something that focuses on her main areas of study. That is where her plans are leading her.

Having thought all that in the between Lilian saying 'I'll have to remember to get you some' and 'I need to figure out my own version', Angela says, "I am unsure of the occassion but I always enjoy your visitations." Best not to mention you are looking for a gift just yet--until she finds it she's not sure she wants to draw attention to it.

"Eating does seem to correlate to one's mood." Angela agrees with Xion. "Perhaps some time I could visit you again." Their last conversation was 'mid mission' so it wasn't really the best time to get to know one another.

Cinder and Yuri go off to play dodgeball. Thankfully, Persephone sees the potential trouble occuring from this and rescues Angela's tablet.

Persephone describes the rules of dodgeball in a way tat Angela can't refute so she says, "There is little artifice here, usually people paint over that particular idea."

But she does finally give in--between Hook's charmingness, and the presence of many of her friends, Angela finds it's easier to do here, especially with her Agents distracted.

"You are always welcome. It has been some time. If all goes well it'll likely bloom shortly before the Seed of Light does."

She realizes something in this moment that hadn't occured to her to realize.

"...Will it be problematic if the tree and river have been...placed on the ceiling?"
Xion Swaying back and forth on the sidelines - with the 'adults', the watchers, and a sitting Persephone clasping Phone-Angela, Xion laces her arms together in a loose cross for lack of a better place to jam them, not really wanting to stick them into her pockets. Hands partially closed, index and middle finger tapping the jacket-laden outside of her sides.

"It's nice to belong to many places." Xion adds, helpfully layering on the context like a bit of whipped cream atop a slice of pumpkin pie - necessary, perhaps, but sweeter, certainly. "So it's precious to me to have a place there."

'... part of your present...'
"Part, huh? You're already doing a lot, but, I appreciate it." Xion admits, and then scoffs. "Making getting you something harder, you know..." She adds, simply unwilling to deflect when it came to Lilian showing her own fondness. It was not the kind that was scanned out of the air or plucked from vibrant colored thoughts.

And then the topic turns back to tornado fighting. "Well, sure, it's plenty cool... But so's being lots of things." She adds, sure that any kind of weapon covered with enough stickers is a weapon of the heart if the stickers are pure and the bat is just slightly bent enough at a point of once thunderous impact. The little details and dents really made such objects, even if ones that didn't have a bend in them were just as good.

It was like katanas - the slight curve gave a romance.

"There are plenty of ways to get involved in community gallantry, don't start by dashing off and leaving everything you know unless you want to be lost and alone." Xion advises Dylan, taking such words with a grave certainty that everything she said will be hung upon and referenced later. It was truly, very important to be careful about your tutorials!

Phony and Lilian ask Xion very different questions which are both about the same general topic. So, from between the two taller women, Xion takes a bit of an effort explaining. "Putting things together can be fun, I think. If you make it fun, or if you like those kinds of tasks. There's something nice about doing the motion right, something pleasing about moving and not being still. If I could get anything-at-all that I wanted just by wishing for it, I think. . . I'd be bored, though, unless I remembered to wish to make it not boring too. But that's a little bit of make-your-own-fun, isn't it? Putting smiles on faces is great, though, I do know that. It got me through a lot... but it can't be everything, can it?"

A breath pauses her, and then Xion shifts her attention (but not the attention of the edges and draws of her jacket and hoodie) fully off of Phony. To Lilian's offer, Xion's loosely-crossed arms lift, the curl of her knuckles set against the corner of her cheek. "Well... I think I might be cheating at tag or dodgeball -" For entirely different reasons than Lilian! Sadly, she is among the Four Heavenly Kings of both Dodgeball and Tag. "- but if you want to show off. . ."

Xion stops 'warm', her thoughts fizzy-fizzling. She wanted to fight, certainly, and Lilian was even inviting her, and she definitely wanted to, but earlier, she had wanted to show off her Keyblade to Dylan but hit a prompt that looked a little like:
Xion 'Get Out Sword?'
    | Yes !
    |> I guess not. . .

and so did not actually get out her shiny constellation-sword. On prompting, though, the noirette splits the difference.

Holding out both hands and grinning, she produces two whifflebat-esque 'swords', solid handled clubs with pool noodle lengths with bright colors - practice bonk-sticks. There is a red and a blue one, each held in a hand.

"I picked up these soft things - Struggle's probably safe for a rec center, right?" Struggle, being violently using all your moves on someone else but it's with practice pool noodle swords for funny points, so it's totally okay! It's tutorial fighting!

This reminds her. "Oh! I guess, Dylan, if you want to put it on your resume, there's like, a Struggle league? You'd probably be good!" And a beat, asked about holiday. "Oh, it's... a time people get together marked on calendars? And people get time off of work. Usually. Angela, since you can't leave, will you have people over for the holidays and new year?"
Timespace Riders      Another Sougo marches dutifully through the garden in a basketball jersey and gym shorts, while the one here in the cardigan beams. He's not great at dodgeball in the slightest, and probably ends up getting bodied.

    None of that is to say that he isn't entertaining! Spirited and lively, he's not at all bothered that he can't hit anyone. Why would he? Here's a place where he can wear his heart even further down his sleeve than he normally does. Playful battle cries herald wind-ups, which grow increasingly elaborate. And when he's hit, he flops like a pro--most of the time, it's not even an act for laughs, but genuinely that his jukes are that easy to read, against a team of psychics.

    "That kind of makes it better," the cardigan Sougo says, nodding at Persephone (and Xion--as if the two of them were discussing the idea in some classical open forum). "It's like she's the parent that got it, and you're the one that put it together, on Christmas morning."

There's something nice about doing the motion right, something pleasing about moving and not being still.

    "That makes sense, I think. Do -you- think it's fun? Is there a certain kind of thing you have the most fun putting together?" Sougo is imagining a jigsaw puzzle. Woz, a ship in a bottle.

There are plenty of ways to get involved in community gallantry, don't start by dashing off and leaving everything you know unless you want to be lost and alone.

    "Certainly, if you have a 'Self' to put forward, you are hardly ill-equipped for gallantry," says Woz to Dylan. His thoughts shift from ships in bottles to queens in veils.
Lilian Rook     'A lot of people tell me I'm already in a cult'

    "Everyone who tells you that is in a cult and doesn't think so."

    'I have to trust that being conscientious is enough.'

    "Everyone who has ever really been and done good was someone who decided on a highest virtue and trusted it was enough."

    'Lily-R paid for it all; I only had to put it together.'

    "Please. As if paying for anything counts." says Lilian. "A few months of my work is worth a few months of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. The numbers attached to it are--"

    Lilian palpably makes her second will save of the month against internalizing a lesson she really would rather not learn.

    'It's the putting smiles on people's faces afterwards, that makes it worth it'

    "I'll have to try it a little more." Lilian says under her breath. She's remembering the baffling praise and enthusiasm of a few people aboard the Union Busan.

    'I am unsure of the occassion but I always enjoy your visitations.'

    "New years. Obviously." says Lilian, flipping back her hair dramatically. "I'd hope you do. The point of going is to give you a little more of what you deserve, after all. That place is horrible otherwise." Dimly, Lilian remembers who else has said that to her, in the same room.

    'Part, huh? You're already doing a lot, but, I appreciate it.'

    "You didn't think I'd just ignore you, right?" Lilian's eyes briefly darken with the shadow of recollection. "Especially after . . . this year. You and Angela and Phony and Petra. I'll have to get Haru something too." A torrid jumble of complicated feelings pollutes the air around her like stinging, crackling static; a mixture of soot and ozone that blends together unpleasantly, and then fades as she shakes her head. "I've gotten plenty this year already. I get to look forward to the future much more than I ever have."

    'I picked up these soft things - Struggle's probably safe for a rec center, right?'

    "I knew it." Lilian says, a little smug, with a twist of verbal fry. A little heat to the air around her, felt directly on bare skin. "I can do you better than that. The children love seeing the drama of the real thing, as long as you can frame it right." Saying that, Lilian turns to Persephone, gestures with laden meaning, and says, "You can do us both, right? Even if it's just for today." She's already removing Night Mist from her neck. It has the psychic air of eagerly stripping off her top.
Madeleine Cadrasteia     Madeleine studies the game, watching for a pecking order to establish itself on the playing field. A food chain will always emerge, just give it time. It was instinct to her now, sharpened by years of experience. An instinct that directs her attention such that she does not notice Persephone's probing gaze...

    When she fell through the skin of the world, he was the first to find her. A pale, thin man with dark hair and perfect features. Too perfect, every fault delicately carved away by his hand. The world, he told her, was wrong. The world, he told her, had enemies, enemies that would welcome her. He offered her his hand, and she took it. She has still not forgiven herself this mistake.

    He hurt her in ways that she did not know she could be hurt, took things she did not know could be taken. And he gave her things, too: a name, a face, a purpose, all of his own designs. When she finally escaped, she tore away everything that he had made her to be, desperate to break from the past. Still the roots of what he had done to her remained, wounds like a rhizome in the substrate of her being. So she dug, and dug, and carved away piece after broken, tainted piece. Until she reached the heart, the one thing he could not touch, that he could not deny her: the huntress. Her innermost, timeless dream-of-self. Only this remained of what she truly was. Only this could she trust.

    So the laws of the jungle became her laws, and she heeded them well. Take all you can, and give nothing unless forced. You are always being watched. You are always one step from becoming prey. To reveal your position in the dark forest is to invite death or worse. To bend a knee to another is to accept your place below them in the food chain.

    Then she found a friend, someone who knew how she'd suffered and asked nothing of her beyond respect. Then she met another, and a few more. Lost one, gained two. Nearly fell in love, for a little while. She was starting to change, and she knew it. And this, more than anything else that had happened since she fled that pale thin man with dark hair, this *frightened* her.
Persephone Kore      "Artifice? Ahahaha. I'll explain it in a minute," Persephone says, and a laugh runs under her words. "But that's just how it is. You know, I've never grown a tree upside-down; are you going to flip the whole place like a pancake? If it's a problem, I can just flip it back!"

     "It's like she's the parent that got it, and you're the one that put it together..."

     Phony breathes out warmly, twirling a bit of hair around a finger. "It is utterly and precisely just like that," she says. "Ahahaha, you're the smartest anyone's ever been, Woz." Her gaze lingers fondly on Lilian.

     "I'm not just going to dash off and leave, you know," Dylan says with a little puff-up of her cheeks. It wrinkles the band-aid on her chin, and when she crosses her arms, the scabs on her elbows become visible: a moderately-chewed teddy bear of a woman. "I've got people depending on me. People to protect." Ahahaha, as if! Thumb-gesturing at self: "I'm practically the project's beating heart, you know! It's just... the romance of it..."

     "Ahaha, wasn't I the heart? Or are you saying I'm the brain~?" "Shut up!"

     Dylan does look like she'd be good at anything called 'Struggle'. She's shorter than Phony, but more athletic too, like a little wiggly pug. She appropriately gets immediately and utterly interested: "A league. So, like... winners and losers? Bragging and bruises? Just beating the stuffing out of each other with these?"

     "You can do us both, right?"
     Persephone covers her mouth with bright and questioning eyes, struck by a sudden but not-unpleasant thought, and looks at Lilian and Xion uncertainly. "You know I can, but Xion... and then, what are the bats for?"

     "For fighting, idiot."
     "Oh!!!!"

     Phony's laugh is pure and clear as anything, despite everything. "Then of course! Absolutely! Here: A 'blessing', to not get hurt no matter what, and to never hurt for real no matter what." She tucks tablet-Angela under her arm to offer both of them a hand. Taking it is a plunge into a soothing dark other-space, where something deep in the mind ratchet-clicks or deep-sea-groans. Reality concedes to the body's borders on returning to the light. And isn't it sweet? Shouldn't everyone have it, forever?
Xion 'Is there a certain kind of thing you have the most fun putting together?'

Xion, holding two different colored NERF bats in offering to Lilian, hears Sougo calling in to the Phonypolis Forum on Motion and Feeling and cants her head to the Cardigan Time King. "I think it's fun, but it depends. There's something really pleasant about things settling into the right place, and moving as they're meant to move, but I think the repetition gets old, and cycles become their own stillness if you can pay attention to it, but... As for a favorite - I think it's . . . myself? I think you might know about it--"

Her right hand, Struggle Sword and all, drops to her belt, to thumb her beltbuckle at the Once And Future Time Rider. "All that slotting and becoming is close, isn't it? A bigger, grander, more complete you, for just a bit? You've already reached mixing them, too, so... You must know."

The noirette leans her offered swords to Sougo, X-ing (pronounced cross-ing) the blades across her center. "Touching two points together makes a brighter, more beautiful light."

'I knew it.'
Xion turns her eyes back to Lilian, an expectant kind of eager in her all-too readable bright blues. She doesn't even have to wait, the words a crackle all their own. Shameless, the noirette's lips curl at being called out, and her shoulders roll in a slow shrug. Her words come with the sweeping out of her loose Struggle Swords.

'The children love the drama of the real thing,--'
The Struggle Swords drop from Xion's hands as soon as the crackling words leave Lilian's mouth, the two colored weapons disintegrating into black voxels even before they bounce off the rec center's floor, returning to inventory summarily.

The real thing is so much better. She even knows how to frame it right: she just did!

Stepping out a few steps from the stands, Xion tests her motion with a quick stretch, and decides immediately her arm extension isn't cutting it. She joins Lilian in shrugging off restraints, though the noirette's is much more literal; she begins stripping off her denim jacket, freeing her checkered-hoodied self from the confines of arm stifling stitches. Instead of losing the hoodie, she zips it up, drawing up the hood and letting it settle over her bangs so the top line settles right at the top of her eyes.

'I can do you better than that.' // 'You can do us both, right? Even if it's just for today.'
Xion blushes and grins both when she looks between Lilian and Persephone, tracing a line in the air with her outstretched left hand parallel to the ground at mid-chest level. While she does, with a 'shwink!', a silver light is drawn into the air, and after sweeping the line across her front her hand closes around a length of shiny brushed platinum, hilted in two hands worth of black and a wide bracing of blue. A shooting star tooth sits at the end of the key-shaped club-or-sword, more in common with a child's idea of 'sword' when picking up a satisfyingly large stick to swing than a blade.

"Oh, are you going to do me? Are you both going to? Are we doing two on one? Will I be the one or the two? I can do either!" Xion claims, eager, as she shoulders her Keyblade and leans forward to affect a perfect JRPG Heroine pose, empty right arm dangling down and waving loose. "I've got two hands, I can hold lots of things." She carries on, lower. Still eager, but lower in the throat. "I've wanted to touch and see what colors we make for *ages*, Lilian, I won't say no for silly reasons." The Nobody laughs, and taps her star-blade couched against her shoulder.
Persephone Kore      After conveying her blessing, Persephone slips over to Madeleine, and for once her gait doesn't keep loud metronome time. At first there's the pretense that I might just be getting a better angle to watch the children- only I've never done pretenses! That's just true, too! And while she watches she smiles fondly, and maybe I press on the scales a little too, just a tiny bit. To keep it fair!

     "It doesn't work like that here, you know," she finally says, in response to absolutely nothing Madeleine has said (out loud!) "Winning by force. Winning because you're bigger or stronger or fiercer. It just doesn't happen. These gifts come from the heart- whoever wishes for it harder, they'll get it. And so there's love. There's give-and-take!"

     "So--" with a glance and a smile down at the Angela-tablet- "The rules of the game. The rules of the world. Those barely matter at all. They're less important than the feelings. Even a game like that..."

     She walks over- clack, clack- and touches Xion's keyblade illustratively, but also just to admire it! It's absolutely gorgeous, isn't it? It really feels like 'of your heart'. And then looks back to Madeleine. "Even a game like that, with swords, that's true. And even a child could beat me, if they just wanted it more- because the gifts of the heart couldn't bear to touch them."

     Persephone tilt-smiles, hair and golden dangles spilling lightly over her shoulder. "You know? So that's why you're safe here. And shouldn't the whole world, really, be just like that?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia     "Gifts of the heart..." Madeleine meets Persephone's gaze. A star falls across the inky void of the huntress's eyes, the end of the world in miniature. She takes another sip of chocolate syrup.

    "I don't believe I'm very good at wishing, not anymore. I suppose I'll have to practice." The corner of Madeleine's mouth twitches only briefly, but her feelings are clear enough to Persephone's senses: something in the psychic's explanation has put Madeleine at least a little at ease.
Xion Xion, lifting from suggestive sway, actively presents Starlight for Phony to see, nodding slowly. The keychain at the end, past the black hilt to the silver cap, jangles lightly as it tumbles and sussurates against itself. At the end is a phone-charm sized empty star, the same as the shooting one forming the tooth at the end. The whole weapon, has a weight to it that Xion almost doesn't, like it is more real than she is. She's a little wibbly-wobbly, a little uncertain, and doesn't quite have all the right parts a person does: but she definitely has a heart pulsing in her. Starlight, her weapon, is a sharpened and true expression of her whole self, more than the wrapping paper of skin and the mild lie of eyes and lips. Starlight is heavy, and near-sharp-to-the-touch, but from every angle even when held around feels like the flat of something sharp that never quite reaches that precipice of edge. A harm of a type that is very intentional - only sharp when required.

Phony is so smart! Wow! She didn't have to have a tutorial or anything. Xion stands in honest awe for long arm-swaying moments, before she remembers finally that Dylan had a question. "Oh, leagues and folks and a guy in a coat who will bet you money and everything. I think there's a moogle or a bug who will give you a notebook that'll tell you more... Are you on the quest apps?" There's more, but her expression falls into a kinder smile at the exchange between Dylan and Phony. The beating heart, huh?

"I'm sure your weapon would work just as well. Maybe you'd knock the hearts right out of the Heartless back to their owners, wouldn't that be a swing." Xion wonders warmly, before she reaches out with that loose right hand to receive a blessing.

Submerged -- in liquid? in solid? in familiar-but-not? in the groanining-dark, as familiar as the coat she shucked? -- in a blessing of rightness, Xion shivers pleasantly and squeezes her hand to test out the sensation tingling at her edges, then considers the question that comes with it.

"Everyone, forever... Hmm. Maybe. But..." Xion's eyes cross, focusing on her hand as it closes into a fist and opens once more. Testing, ginger, Xion angles to touch her sword to her hand aaaand thinks better of that, lifting her thumb to her canines and chomping down instead.

"Ach--oh, huh." Xion feels a pressure but no ouchie. Concerned at first, she pauses, and then looks at the rattling Madeline with an odd look. Sympathy, and a kind of effervescent giggle from nowhere. "Hey, you should definitely try this out. Persephone's right that it's worth experiencing for sure! Woof," Xion exhales, cheeks puffing. "It's kind of a rush, um... Not being that little bit restrained. You know, ready to go." To fight, or fly through the corridors, or be choosing death as victory's ante. But there's a mundanity to the rush she'd expect the shaky woman still microdosing her chocc to appreciate more than keenly. "I think Sougo and Woz have tried it out, haven't they? You've been around Persephone longer than I have!" She urges, before righting herself and waits for Lilian.
Persephone Kore      "You will," Persephone says, turning confidently to stand side-by-side with Xion. "You will! And I'll help you, Madeleine, any time you like. And not even just because it's beautiful. You're in the Concord, aren't you? That's a kind of family, too."

     Seeing Xion bite her thumb makes Phony do the same, as if she'd never thought to do it before. The way her eyebrows lift conveys 'mediocre, but not bad'. Then it's pushed out by an overflowingly fond giggle. "Awww. I'm so, so glad you're getting to try it!! Fighting for pretend, but with everything you have- I guess that really is special."

     Her hand pats Xion's shoulder, and she looks to Lilian with a little almost-frown. "If you've wanted to see her colors forever, I won't make you be on a team! But you're sort of too earnest and sincere to go two-on-one against, too. Maybe I'll just 'fight' winner? Ahaha, or maybe I'll 'fight' both! If you're alright with me being greedy for you, Xion."