Scene #8784: WPN Postscript: Bittersweet

Owner	Pose
Meika Kirenai	Central's newest resident isn't hard to find. She's right there, behind a containment unit's sealed bulkhead door, sitting on an out-of-place cot. Even walking up to the window, she's slow to notice anyone looking in- not only is it something that's become usual the past few days, but it slots in far too easily with the way of things she's used to. Still, there's something offputting about those eyes as Meika Kirenai's head snaps to face the opening, even before it can be opened up, in the moment just after the thought to knock, to start the lock's cycling crosses Woz's mind, or that of any Agent escorting, overheard. Her shoulders tighten up, and she hugs her legs closer to her chest, from where they've been tucked up near the cot's edge. If she's self conscious of the cluttered, balled-up and scribbled-over mess of sketch paper she's decorated the floor with, there's no quiet shifting glance to give it away. For the presence of a desk, and the aforementioned cot, the containment unit Meika's been situated in is warmer in feel than any other Abnormality's trends towards, if only from the understanding that Meika still needs to do things like eat and sleep. With the bags under her eyes and the guilty-angry glare that's familiar to her face, though, it doesn't look like sleeping has been on Meika's mind. Even if her neighbors aren't always so noisy, even if the fluorescent lights don't beat down so harshly all the time. The door seal's break resounds in the chamber like a snapping tree- to her, at least, and just as quick- {"What do you want?"} Alone, it's hard for Meika to remember whether or not she's letting her magic leach into her words. She doesn't seem to realize what she's said wasn't audible to anyone but Woz, as he enters. She flinches, wishing she could muster up the effort to correct or take back her tone, but leaves it be. She coughs, and twists a shoulder to muffle the sound in. "...S-sorry. That's no way for me to..." Her eyes stop facing his way at all, but she's still talking again before she can give him a chance to speak- rambling, almost, thoughts and words just slightly disjointed and desperate. "What do you need, Mister Woz..? I don't- don't think there's a lot I can help with, here. But..."
Timespace Riders	After clearing the warpgate, Woz and Sougo split up. This visit was discussed by the both of them, planned in advance. 'No more than a week,' Gebura had said. Angela had asked that there should be no ill-advised breakout attempts. Thankfully for Angela, and for the two Riders, this is not the intention. If there is to be an escort for the retainer, Woz will elect not to skip the distance between the gate and Central with a flick of his scarf. If not, then it may well be the telltale swirling of fabric which causes her attention to snap upwards. Entering in, he answers her first question. "I want only to provide company and comfort, Meika Kirenai." He approaches the desk she's been provided, holding out his scarf. A brief, gentle rain of odds and ends follows, impossibly. A bag of potato chips, a candy bar. A sheaf of paper, for drawing. A canned beer. He looks tired. Not as beat-up as Sougo was--but then, she would have seen the reason that's only true in terms of appearance. "Many things were said to you, these past few days, and many more will be said, over the next few. My Demon King and I wish that some of them should be kind."
Timespace Riders	Elsewhere, Sougo seeks to speak with Angela. He, too, is tired. Small bandages dot a few places on his face. Bruises, burns and bandaged cuts travel up his arms, and across the exposed collarbone afforded by his penchant for oversized button-ups. As is so often the case after difficult fights--and the Jester was difficult in more than a physical sense--the cotton-candy blue-pink hues of his paisley shirt belie his wan smile. Wherever he should meet her--be it her office, or brought to her in the midst of some company business, his greeting is the same. A mellow smile of the kind one gives fellow survivors of something difficult and sad. Sad that it happened, but happy to be on the other side of it. "Hi Angela," he says. "I, um... heard a little of what you and Woz were talking about on the radio, earlier today," he says. "What I wanted to talk to you about was... maybe not exactly the same, but in the same neighborhood. About the Tree, and the work it takes to get there."
Angela	No more than a week or so. Gebura has agreed to that limitation but the 'or so' can certainly be another few days should it come to it. Gebura is too busy to pay bodyguard to everybody who wants to visit Meika and Concord agents are a good opportunity for her to not have to do that. She already is frustrated with having to play escort to PETRA who has made it clear she will totally violate the spirit of her rules if she allows an inch open for her to do so. Instead, Nikki is sent to play escort for Woz and will say, "I doubt you're really happy about this. Gebura doesn't usually put her foot down this harshly but ... Well, a lot went haywire but this wasn't really the first incident. There was the whole thing with the train... Anyway, good luck in there. Hope it works out." She taps in a sequence on the control panel to open the doors. "We won't hear what you're talking about but there are cameras situated. If she steps out of the cell an alarm will sound." Nikki otherwise doesn't interfere. Oh myyyy! A visitor! How lovely. The King of Greed is in the cell right next to Meika's but she is able to speak directly in the mind because she's a horrible monster! Soundproofing, unfortunately, can't stop this. Isn't it nice to drink up some company? Angela will meet with Sougo at the Warpgate. She might have been inclined to have them all together--but Woz has unsettled her a little and she welcomes the distance from the retainer for the moment. It isn't a hostile distance, she just has something to think about. The bear that Solty got Angela is now wearing the pirate hat. Because Angela respects Sougo, she sits behind her desk instead of on top, allowing him the opportunity to sit down if he'd like in front of her. ''What I wanted to talk to you about was... maybe not exactly the same, but in the same neighborhood'' Angela sighs and rubs at her forehead with her index and middle finger She is incapable of getting headaches but metaphorical headaches are still within the realm of possibility. "I see." She says. She turns off her room's cameras and crosses her legs. "Sougo, I am serious in that I consider you a friend, and that I find you to be better people than my parents, so before you speak--please consider this as true rather than an AI's deceit." She lets that hang for a moment like Judgement Bird was listening in. "Outside of that, feel free to continue."
Meika Kirenai	Meika jolts at the sound of provisions hitting the desk's surface. Eyes follow and scan each fallen package, vision filling in the details that awareness of presence and shape can't quite cover. She chews inside of her lip, once she does. "Company and comfort." She repeats Woz's words, as if they're made of something sharp and hard. But she's letting go of her knees, and slowly standing up from the creaking cot, moving over towards it. Her footsteps are silent, and would be quiet, anyways, with her boots left tossed aside somewhere in the containment unit. "You- you didn't need to." She's picking up the candy bar, first. She flinches, cognizant of the room's cameras, already sure that someone, somewhere is trying to note down that as a detail about her- 'likes chocolate', or something. "But- thanks, I guess." {Isn't it nice to drink up some company?} It's distracting, right as she's peeling open the candy bar's wrapper, and bracing herself for conversation, to have her neighbor piping in. {"I'm not drinking anything up. Just talking with him. He's- just here for a little. Being nice, I guess."} Woz can't hear her responding to her neighbor, but he can see Meika's lips move, still. It's a bad habit she's picking up, for how long it's quiet here, to just overhear and bother paying attention to things best ignored- like the King of Greed herself ought be. Meika coughs, and bites the candy. She's not polite enough to wait to talk until she's finished. "I'm not- I'm not that fragile, Mister Woz. It'sh- It's fine. I get it. I- I messed-" It's like she just kind of stays frozen for two heartbeats, before she moves again, speaks again, and takes another bite. "...Kind words would be a waste, here, wouldn't they? I- I know what everyone's said. What they're going to, or just..." It's weird to watch her pace in a circle for a second, and then wind up sitting back on the bed. "S-sorry. But I guess it's nice to talk to-" The thought gets pinned in place, as another distraction takes precedence: Meika's jacket is laying where the cot's pillow sits, and she absentmindedly picks it up, and wraps it around her shoulders, not using the sleeves. "T-talk to someone I know a little bit. Not that the neighb-" "Yeah."
Timespace Riders	"Aw," Sougo says, his smile widening a little as he takes a seat on Angela's desk, for lack of anywhere better to sit. "I think of you as a friend, too," he says. "I like your teddy," he says, nodding towards the bear in the pirate hat. There's a brief pause, as he taps an index to his chin and searches for words. "After dealing with the Jester," he begins, "Learning the truth about the Tree, I felt... really conflicted." "Because... I want you to be free. And I agree that making a place where people can be happy is more important than just going through the motions in a place where they can't. But... I kept thinking about Sal and M.O.M." Hands between his dangling legs, he laces his fingers together. "About how they're just... not going to live, to see what they helped build." "And how unfair that is. That there's not... a person, that we could stop. Or a system, that we could take apart. There's not a 'third option' if you're going to be free, and the City is going to be even a percent less... cruel, and awful. It has to be this way. The Tree, or nothing." "So... when someone who is really smart, about that kind of thing, reached out to Woz, I came along, because I wanted to ask her about it. I... wanted to find out, what it is that keeps someone caring for a seed, into a sapling, and then a tree, knowing that they won't be around for the fruit."
Timespace Riders	You- you didn't need to. Regardless, I am glad to. "You are welcome," says Woz, placing a hand over his chest and bowing briefly at the waist. Leaning against the wall, he regards her in contemplative silence as she paces, sits, and dons the jacket. Her silent mouthing is noticed, it seems, but not judged, one way or the other. Many people voice their thoughts to themselves--it likely occurs to him that she's simply one of them. The retainer speaks up, after a moment's reflection. "'Fragile' is not a word I would use for you. As a matter of fact, it is better suited to Aidan Proudpick, Touta Konoe, and, I am loathe to admit, Sarracenia." "But I have no wish to speak of fools," he says, gesturing outside of the cell, with a slow, theatric sweep of his hand, "I have had more than my fill, of late." "You did 'mess up.' This is true. And the fools who are threatened by you, jealous of you, have surely made haste to join the few with legitimate grievance. However..." Woz's usual air of courtly reservation softens, as he looks at Meika. "The difference between the two is that the latter do not intend to abandon you, only because of your mistakes. It is not because you are 'fragile,' nor pitied. It is simply the behavior that separates civilized people from clothed dogs standing upright."
Angela	Mm. I suppose it is more a little nibble here and there, like you are concerned him being nice is poison. Like the others. Impatiently, they desired to be saviors instead of simply being on the same team. They couldn't control their desires, they couldn't see yours. You were close so I'll tell you a secret. The voice, as ever, is a thirsty and hungry purr. Angela didn't come up with the excuses for not letting us go because she didn't believe you were correct or because she believed in what she said. She'd see all the Abnormalities free if she could. A pause, for emphasis. Like a gossip circle. It feels like the King is whispering right into her ear. But she simply won't give up on her own freedom in the process. She cares nothing for the project. The King then says something that might be a bit more surprising. But you can get me out when you eventually leave this place. A piece of me, anyway. Are you curious? MEANWHILE "It is not my teddy." Angela says stiffly. "Solty simply gifted her to me." She is going with this logic. She doesn't try to lie about the hat, though. Angela's eyes slant down at the mention of M.O.M and eventually she closes them, turning her head. But she keeps listening. She s being asked about the very thing that the King of Greed is saying she doesn't actually care that much about. Angela cups her chin as she tries to tink about how to pretend that she cares about the Seed of Light project. She DOES care, of course, in the sense that her freedom and the culmination of the project seem intertwined. And Lilian seems curious as to what would happen if it happens to come to fruitio but... "...The City is not a fair place." Angela says. "But sometimes the only options you have are to be a good person doing nothing, or to be a normal person doing some good and a little evil. Life is like this. We don't have the blessings that the Outsiders have in reaching for everything. Not like Persephone can. Not yet." She tilts her head to the side, considering Sougo. "But I am curious about what a really smart person said." She is already narrowing it down. "...I have a tree I'm working on here It can be a bit frustrating because sometimes it seems like there is no progress. But it has brought me some peace of mind."
Meika Kirenai	{...Like you are concerned him being nice is poison.} {"Being nice isn't poison."} Meika's silently muttering, as she works on that chocolate bar. Its flavor is quick to be stained with bile-bitter guilt, conversing with the King of Greed. {"But there's... if you haven't earned things, you need to make up for them. I don't think I can."} The wrapper twists and crinkles, silently, as she holds it. "Welcome." Again, that little habit of parroting words to process their implications. "Okay. If it makes you glad." It's a soft, simple word choice, that could just be coincidental- gleaned from nothing, instead of gleaned from Woz's mind. Is it just a coincidence, though? 'But I have no wish to speak of fools,' A bit of sudden-spiked tension that crossed her expression at the dropped names, fades from Meika. "...Thanks. I- I don't want to, either. Please." "H-hey. If I can take a second... How..." Again, words shaped in her mouth like they're something spiny and painful. "How are... people? How's Cobalt- How's Kayoko..? She's safe, right?" {You were close so I'll tell you a secret.} Woz can watch Meika's posture shift, her gaze trace the outlines of the metal plating that constitutes the unit's floor. Listing to that unheard voice, too saccharine and warm to ever be safe, builds the kind of obvious tension in the magical girl that only comes from the likes of ascending the top of a roller coaster's chain lift- that something terrifying is unavoidable, now, but not yet upon you. Would, but can't. Does that make it better? Meika doesn't whisper back to the King, not yet, but her feet do nervously kick, with how she's sitting on the cot's edge. {A piece of me, anyway. Are you curious?} {"A piece-?"} That she's answering at all, answers the second question. Of course she is. She can't not be. Where she sits on her cot, Meika's hands fall to clutch her knees, fingernails digging into fabric. {"Yeah. I am."} 'It is simply the behavior that separates civilized people from clothed dogs standing upright.,' It's like Meika didn't quite hear Woz right- odd, because that's something she's uncannilyy good at. It takes her a full few seconds to blink, and move how she's sitting, before those words cross into being understood. "...That's not- not nice to say about people. But-" Her posture hunches up, a bit, tucking the edges of her jacket closer, for security. "Maybe the people who- who were threatened, and such, just had good intuition."
Timespace Riders	How are... people? How's Cobalt- How's Kayoko? "Your sister is safe and accounted for, so far as I know. We do not speak overmuch." He pauses, seeing no need to retread old ground as far as Kayoko is concerned. "As for the others... Petra seems well enough; weary from battle, but in usual spirits otherwise. Lilian is tired from more than battle, as is my Demon King. As am I. Despite what you may believe, not all of that weariness is from your 'mess-up.' But, as Lilian herself stated, tomorrow comes. This will pass," he says, gesturing around him. Her state of imprisonment, the emotional fatigue, any injuries--all of it. ...That's not- not nice to say about people. Woz chuckles. "Sougo would say the same, were he present." Pushing off of the wall, he paces, elaborating further, one hand behind his back and the other gesticulating as he's fond of doing. "But I believe he and I would ultimately lead you to the same answer, even if his was spoken more sweetly. ...Kamen Riders and Magical Girls tend to develop a strong 'intuition,' if they do not have one to begin with. Even so, if I relied on 'intuition' in my work as a chronicler, half of what I record would be false." "And I assure you, those who feel threatened by you do not even have the benefit of being right half of the time." He pauses in his pacing, turning to peer out of the cell. "It is not 'intuition' which causes their dwindling supply of good sense to escape them completely; to feel justified in calling you names." How shall I put this to words? It is so rare, speaking to one who does not know, yet is willing to listen. "...it is many things, the majority of which are points in your favor, rather than against it. For instance," he says, turning around, "They see you, reaching for something that you want more than anything, and realize how meaningless their own lives are by comparison. But reaching for something is hard. Is it not?" "And so, because you made an off-hand remark towards them, once or twice--or even because they saw another retaliate and be rewarded for it--they feel entitled to tear you down, which makes them feel better about their own lack of any ambition. They recognize, deep down, that if you were allowed to, you would surpass them in every way that matters. That is what threatens them."
Timespace Riders	Angela's expression at the mention of M.O.M. doesn't escape him--but it doesn't seem to surprise him, either. His own is not accusatory, but simply an understanding frown. We don't have the blessings that the Outsiders have in reaching for everything. "Outsiders don't have that blessing, either," Sougo says, half-joking, half-lamenting--but not lamenting for the reason Angela might initially assume. After a sigh, he adds, "It's just that when something is out of our reach, some of us are really good at inventing reasons why it's someone else's fault. Why it doesn't count. And they're so good at it that they believe it themselves, until the next time it happens, and they have to come up with something else. Phony, Sylvi, Hiromi... those are special cases, and even they have things they won't do." "Anyway..." He shrugs. "The tree." "Xion said that the question was wrong, because only the tree can answer for itself, whether it was worth it. That... -just- having people work on it, spending themselves, and hoping that the people who come after can enjoy it, isn't enough to keep them around." "You have to give them a reason to stick around. You have to... make a little refuge of your own." He lifts his hands from between his legs, and pantomimes a little shelter, cupping them both. "It's okay, if the shade that refuge gives isn't as good as the tree, or if the food isn't as good as the fruit will be. If it's better than what the City gives, then it's worth it, and people will be happy to work towards it, even if they can't see it. Because even when they feel frustrated, even when that little sapling seems like it's barely moving, they have a place that's theirs and they have each other."
Angela	Too saccharine and warm to ever be safe fits the King to a tee, but she is--nonetheless--warm even if she is the strangest of the four. Does it make it better? It's a good question. Angela would say no. She would also say yes. EGO Equipment is created by the people here, it is a complex affair and cannot be hidden. It has to go through the people of the facility. But I can grant an EGO ''gift'' directly. Something small that you can easily hide. I can see through that gift instead. "So it was Xion." Angela says. "I do not know her too well, but she helped a mutual friend so I consider her to be someone worth listening to." Angela lets out a soft little sigh, "...But if you think I was created so cruel as to not offer shade from the first loop... Well, perhaps that says more about the Concord than anything." She shakes her head. "What keeps them here is our Contracts. That is how a business does things, regrettably. Admittedly, in an infinite multiverse--what is there to stop them from 'hitting the bricks' as Netzach said?" She opens her eyes halfway again. "The dream for some, and the knowledge how Wings work for the rest. We cannot escape the system so the facility will use the system to its upmost to destroy it. 'The master's tools can never dismantle the master's house?'. This facility has little hope but to presume that is not true." She opens her eyes all the way. She has to be clear about this or Sougo won't understand. "I can be kind up to a point to the people here, Demon King, but only to a point. If I act in a way that the system here determines endangers the Seed of Light project--then a reset will occur even if the facility is in tip top shape because without forcing the Sephirah to face the fear--it is impossible for us to build the future Ayin and Carmen desire." She leans forward. "Philisophically I cannot disagree with Xion, but the reality is not so kind. If you have a suggestion on how to provide shade, I can consider it--but bear in mind before you make such a suggestion--is that the shade cannot extend to the Sephirah--and the suffering of those within this facility is partly what ensures they have to endure the harshest of lights."
Timespace Riders	"Yeah. I thought you would say something like that," says Sougo, nodding, as Angela makes eye contact. "Don't worry! I'm not suggesting anything drastic. In fact... the more I thought about Xion's answer, the more I realized that you -are- giving a shelter. Even to the Sephirah." He smiles, quietly radiant despite his fatigue. "Facing their fears doesn't -just- help the project. Yesod, Tiphereth, even Netzach, they're happier now, aren't they? They aren't just going through the motions. That's worth something, I think." He crosses his legs. "What I'd like you to think about is... well. Do you remember the, uh... Kukuru cult? It was a disaster, I know." He frowns, for a moment, thinking back on it. "But... it didn't form -just- because of Kukuru. Things like that happen because there's a... need, that people have, and it isn't getting met, so they try to fill it with something that's 'close enough.'" "I think if you could find something small, to bring the Agents and Clerks together on the off-hours, there could be a little more shade, and the tree would still have enough sun. Just..." He smiles weakly. "You know. Not something that's gonna make any... fixations."
Meika Kirenai	"...Safe. Okay. S-so that means Kyou must be okay, too, and..." She trails off, mouth moving soundlessly. Meika's stomach turns, and she puts the candy bar down, covering it back over with its foil. "...I know that tomorrows keep coming. Till I'm- till they run out." When Meika exhales, it's not out of ease or relief, but it's not hard to know better than expect that. She rubs an eye with her wrist. Despite everything, despite how out of place it is to be so, Meika is still dressed in her monochrome school uniform. It's offputting that so little, if any, of style or preference she has, can shine through beyond the various discrepencies that need the contrast pigment of her peers. The off-regulation tie she wears is too loose around her neck. In the days and days and days she's been gone, who knows what that contrast, that normal environment, thinks is going on. Meika doesn't have a clue. {I can see through that gift instead.} Again, to Woz, it looks like Meika is just muttering, mumbling thoughts that don't quite make it to having sound. {"A gift. It'd help you? For me to... leave, with that, and let you see through it?"} Meika's teeth sink into cheek skin, mulling thoughts, until she tastes blood. {"Okay. Yeah. That's something, not nothing. I can do that. I promise I can do that for you. That's not hard at all."} 'But reaching for something is hard. Is it not?' "I- I don't know if it is. I don't want to talk about it. Please." There's an awful, tiny scraping noise, as Meika draws a nail across the fabric of her shirtsleeve, scratching at something underneath it. "Don't give me credit, like I'm doing that right." "...Surpass? What? That's- that's stupid. I wouldn't. Couldn't. Why would-" Meika makes a choked little exhale, confused. "Well- if it's... because of things I say, then they're right to hate me, aren't they? It's my fault. I get that. I bet they-" There's a tiny little sniffle. "I'm just going to keep proving them right about me. Please don't say an awful thing like I'm something special, like that. I can't even be a magical girl the right way." Meika's swaying a little, legs tucked up close, as she sits. "Everyone hears what they all say about me. S-stupid. I'm making them right, and now it's just going to be what anyone w-who looks atm e thinks, more than they already..."
Angela	Angela isn't expecting her usual spiel to be something Sougo is ready for. Perhaps, she thinks, she underestimated him. She isn't sure about Netzach admittedly (they are definitely detoxing a helluva lot which is, notably, an unfun process) but the idea is not one she can dismiss out of hand. "Mm. With Gebura on the warpath... But it is within company rules. She can complain but she cannot put a stop to it." She glances to the side. The fact that Sougo can see how the Meltdowns actually help the Sephirah even as it torments them... ...It's not wrong but... "...It is an unkind way to help people," She says. "...But you have spotted the thread. The nature of the facility is intended to help the Sephirah confront personal flaws and grow through having a literal and figurative meltdown. So I suppose you can see Ayin's thought process. It fulfils the conditions of the growth of the Seed of Light but--well, as you know... becoming better people is not easy and often you have to crash and burn before you can confront your deepest flaws. Malkuth's need for control and her lack of self control. Hod's desperation for friendship that made her into poor friend. Yesod's discipline hiding pain and madness. ... Netzach's ceaseless indulgence, not unlike the King of Greed, obscurng a deep hollowness. ... And Tiphereth's clinging to the past preventing her from seeking a future even as she acted otherwise." "...And Gebura's strength obscuring her exhaustion. Lilian knows what it is like to be her more than anyone. That, more than her combat ability, is why she is ideal to confront her. ... Though that the difference is akin to 51 percent to 49. I imagine that I could ask HIromi or Persephone if it was simply a matter over triumphing over Gebura physically." She folds her fingers togehter, considering. "We do have some clubs, of course. Tennant has a movie night. But you are right that ... before we move into our final set of challenges, it would be good to provide them with a measure of respite. We are ahead of schedule and we have plenty of Enkephalin for the time being. We can afford to ... engage in some lighter events in the short term." She tilts her head. "Any ideas, Demon King?" She emphasizes the 'Demon King' to encourage him rather than to chide. It would be helpful for the both of them, wouldn't it? But she'll figure something out otherwise. At least she's been convinced. MEANWHILE The King continues to communicate. It is impossible for her to notice Meika scratching at her wrist or she'd be offering to scratch it for her. It could help both of us. Not as much as proper EGO, but a little bit. Harmless. Not like proper EGO. Nikki outside hums lightly under her breath. Her red eyes staring ahead. It's easy work. She can't complain about it. Over the Babble she tells the other Agents that all is well over here.
Timespace Riders	Everyone hears what they all say about me. The retainer's eyes narrow and his nostrils flare with irritation, as his lips pull into an annoyed frown. Of course everyone hears them. They only know how to be silent when embarrassed, and they are not embarrassed nearly so often as they should be. How I wish Petra were here. Woz sighs. "I would surely hear the calls of birds in a forest, but I would not read any further into their squawking than I would the pablum that those imbeciles spout." "If they truly believed what they said about you, then they would stop talking to you, and be done with it. Mark my words--they do not, and they are not done. They do the same thing to Lilian Rook, and to Petra. Surely, you do not think of either of them so uncharitably." "The unwashed masses--'the mob,' as Lilian calls them--do not care, even if you do everything right." Woz strides over to the desk, pulls the chair around, and takes a seat, one leg propped up on the opposite knee. "The best that you may ever be to them is a curiosity to be ogled and consumed, then thrown away, when they are bored. Should you object to being treated like a caged animal, and dare to enforce a boundary, they will hide the stones they throw behind their backs and say that you are rabid." "Yes," he says. "You have spoken out of turn. Yes, you are doing a poor job of being a magical girl. However--you are under intense pressure to perform in a role which cannot be rushed. Moreover, you are still trying, despite the pressure. Those facts hold much more esteem for me, for Lilian, and for Petra than your mistakes." The retainer pauses, then leans forward. "...may I tell you a story, Meika?"
Meika Kirenai	{It could help both of us.} {"Harmless. Okay. So that means it's okay. That means it's..."} Meika's justifications are weak, crafting a way that it's acceptable to agree more than based on merit. {"Yeah. I'll do that for you."} Meika's words carry just the slight bit of nervousness with them- it's funny how excitement and fear do so many of the same things in parallel. Still eavesdropping, Meika matches Woz's growing ire with his thoughts on the subject. He doesn't speak- so neither does she, but she shrinks back- not quite a flinch -a bit from his annoyance anyways. She works here. Just ask her, if you'd rather talk with her. "...Does it matter if they're- if they think they're right, or not, when they're... s-still saying things that fit..?" Rabid. Thrown away. A caged animal. Meika's brow grows tense, and she starts to stare down at the floor, as Woz continues. A bitter feeling of guilt wells up in her, but she doesn't argue back. That's not supposed to be the best. That's not right. I'm trying. It should matter, shouldn't it? It's odd to watch the Enkephalin production indicators start to tick up as the two talk, a reminder that this isn't just a sparse room. The cameras and screens buzz with that electronic hum, and Agents still bustle outside. Woz can watch Meika's attention every so often get pulled away to glare at those, whenever something seems to catch her off guard. "...Pressure in a role. But others still succeed at it, not just try it, under the- whatever pressurses you're talking about. I don't have an excuse. I know I don't. Either I'm just not up to par, and God messed up, picking me, or it's... impossible, right? And that can't be it." Meika bites her lip, and presses her face to her knees. It's a familiar posture to anyone who's ever tried to curl up small enough that it feels like you'll dissapear. It's clear she wants to, in this moment. But a few slow, silent breaths help her soften the posture, enough to barely answer Woz's next comment. "...Alright. A- a story sounds like it'd be nice, actually. I'm listening." Her words come quiet, with her face pressed to her knees. "What's it going to be about? It's... d-don't think I'd want to hear it if it's just a funny one, though, Mister Woz..."
Angela	A harmless pact though how time affects it... That is a problem for Future Meika. Then we have a deal. When the time comes... The King goes quiet after so that Meika has nothing between her and what Woz shares as a tale.
Timespace Riders	"'Helping, in an unkind way,' is..." He chuckles. "Well, I'm familiar with it." Even if he weren't involved with Woz, there's Lilian, his future self--even Petra, really. He owes something to all of them, and he knows it. Sougo beams, when she asks if he has any ideas. And maybe a little because he can tell the way she means, when she calls him that. "I have a few ideas. Department game nights would be fun. I'm sure some of the Agents have a competitive streak! And there's 'team' games too." He taps a finger to his chin. "Tennant, yeah... well, for clubs, maybe a monthly book club? Those are fun, and they're good for you. Not just in having a little goal to set for yourself, but having people to come back and talk about it with. And I think... well, being an Agent, dealing with Abnormalities, that takes more than just brute strength, depending on the one you're working with. Exposing yourself to different ideas and viewpoints is good for that kind of work, right?"
Timespace Riders	Either I'm just not up to par, and God messed up, picking me, or it's... impossible, right? Woz looks away. I cannot stand the way the world treats you, Meika Kirenai. How it wastes you, and expects to be thanked for the transgression. How it has convinced you that it is correct. What's it going to be about? Taking a breath, the retainer nods. "A preference to avoid a simple comedy? I believe I can accomodate. I read, very recently, a beautiful story. Bittersweet, but beautiful." --- Once upon a time, there lived a man, who died before his time. But he was born with a curious power, which awakened upon his death and brought him back to the land of the living. Rejuvenated, the man found that whenever he wished, he could be as the centipede, strong, hardy, dangerous to handle with one's bare hands. Some would call it a gift; others a curse, for though it extended his reach beyond the common person, simply by having this power was he set apart from the people around him. The man was prideful even before his discovery, and deeply scared of other people, even if he would not admit it. What he really wanted was a place to belong--to find 'his people,' who would understand and love him. But he convinced himself that the problem was 'people,' plainly, and so he reveled in his power, using it to settle petty grudges and terrorize old enemies. One day, the man was found, by others with their own powers. A woman who could be as the lobster, ever escaping danger by shell, claw or graceful retreat. A man who could be as the crocodile, strong, imposing, and difficult to be rid of. A man who could be as a rose, biding his time to bloom, with thorns to prick unwary hands. The Lobster was a born survivor, determined to live at any cost. The Crocodile, no stranger to being treated differently, even before he found his power. The Rose was a cunning businessman, used to the predations of those who wanted what he had.
Timespace Riders	"The people will fear us, if they come to know of us," said the Rose. "At best, we will never be their equals. At worst, we will be driven out." "Perhaps we could find others like us," suggested the Centipede. But the Rose was ambitious, and clever. "That is not enough," said the Rose. "We must outnumber and replace those unlike ourselves, if we are to survive. We must find our king and unite under him." The Rose had already convinced the Lobster and the Crocodile. The Centipede was more easily swayed by three voices than one, and so he stayed, swearing himself to their mission, overjoyed at the thought of finding 'his people.' Their mission was grim work, for the power of change was only bestowed at birth, only awakened in death. While they found many allies in this way, others arose to fight back, whether by invention or by use of that same power. Moreover, the Centipede's fear only grew, as he noticed how comfortable the Rose was in replacing their fallen brethren, or punishing those who ought to be, but rebelled. What the Rose had not told the Lobster, the Centipede, or the Crocodile, or any of those they recruited later, was that using this power burned years away from their lives. The Lobster and the Centipede did not know this, until well after the Crocodile had finally fallen in battle, and the advent of their King was underway. The King could stay this quickening, but his power would forever change those who were touched by it, stripping away the last of their humanity. And although the Centipede was cruel and petty, and prideful, his fear of other people was not so great that he could not see what he would stand to lose. Perhaps it was his love of poetry, at the eleventh hour, which drove him to flee. Flee he did, to another country, whose faces and ways were strange to him.
Timespace Riders	The Lobster, however, took the King's offer, for she would have no future she did not live herself to see. And when the King was struck down, she chased the Centipede and bound him, and bade him rebuild the kingdom. Though he knew that 'his people,' wherever they might be, would not be under such a banner as simple blind circumstance, he could not best the Lobster, nor escape from her, for the King's blessing made her strong. "How long will my misdeeds follow me?" lamented the Centipede, who had already spent so much of the time he'd been given. "How many more must I visit this terror upon, before peace is mine?" The spirits were still alive, in this place, and perhaps they took pity on the Centipede, for there came warriors to dispatch the Lobster and thwart her efforts to revive the conquering King. The Centipede was mistrusted by the warriors--none, moreso than the raven-haired Knight among them. Still, he begged--not only for his life, but for the chance to help. Help he did, abandoning the last of his pride and his fear. When the last of the King's servants fell, the Centipede knew that his time on Earth was short, even if he swore off his power. He chose to spend what time he had, looking for 'his people,' only to find them in the very land he fled to. In private, the Centipede cursed himself. He cursed himself, for his failings, mistakes, and sins. He cursed the world, for giving him that power, rather than letting him die, because he knew that one day, much sooner than he would care to, he would leave those people behind, just as he met them. So Centipede shed his barbs. He shared his passions with the people in that mountain town, and they, with him. He gave of himself, not to destroy, but to build, and saved the parts of himself that he wished to save, for himself and no other. He taught a weathered fisherman the joy of books, and the fisherman taught him how to fish. He shared his favorite verses with a stately general, and the general shared his wine. He helped an angry constable find peace, and the constable taught him the simple joys of his childhood. He learned to love the laughter of children, and the children learned to flock to the library to hear his stories. He protected the people of that town, nestled between the mountains, and they cared for him. In his final years, the bitterness of his oncoming departure was balmed by the sweet fruit of knowledge: the knowledge that he was theirs, and they were his. A statue stands before the library of that town, cast in the image of a man who was loved, despite his mistakes; who is missed, dearly, by those he left behind. For though he was deceived, into spending so much of himself, and though his mistakes and misdeeds were many, he found his people and the peace he so sought, when he reached out and touched them. ---
Angela	Angela quirks her head at 'helping in an unkind way'. And then her shoulders push up. "Woz..?" Is her first guess as to what Sougo might mean, knowing how Woz is like. She knows how Petra and Lilian are like too but she's more accustomed to people taking them for granted. Angela herself fears she is relying too much on them as it is. But it's fine to still be weak in chapter one, isn't it? "I suppose you are. Very well, Demon King," A lighter emphasis on the title this time. "But let us start small." Angela closes her eyes, thinking this over. Ideally whatever they choose is something that she doesn't need to have a direct hand in. "...I believe a 'spa day' had been mentioned before. We'll split it into two groups so the basics of facility management can be handled. I believe the Manager and our Agents can handle this during an offday. Perhaps we can coordinate it with one of the other faciltiies. Being able to leave is the favored 'shade' of our employees and I think the best gift that could be offered them in the short term. Later on we can think about.." Book clubs. Angela definitely owuld love that but Petra and Cinder are the ones she'd have a book club with and they're the ones who are the happiest to be working in the facility to begin with. Not exactly what Sougo is looking for. "I cannot leave the facility of course, so could I prevail upon you to serve as their escort?"
Meika Kirenai	It's hard for Meika to keep a straight face, to not express that flicker of annoyance, that she can tell Woz is choosing not to say something- the implication it carries that something's stopping him, that it'd be wrong to, taints the thought. Somewhere, far distant, it sounds like soft wood is crackling and snapping. Odd, since the cell is soundproofed. "Bittersweet." Meika parrots- and nods, finally, thoughts pulled off of Woz's unsaid words. "...Bittersweet is okay." It's a good long while into listening, before Meika stops pressing her face to her knees. A story of kings and warriors, the sort befitting the hushed tone Meika and Kayoko would take, reading together out the words of thumbed-through cheesy fantasy storybooks of knightly quests and deeds of renown. Hushed, to hide after lights out, but hushed, too, for imagination to fill in the gaps. Familiarity can be comforting. But this far from home, this long gone from it, Meika's eyes tear up from more than just the story. She doesn't let it interrupt anything, she's silent when that's called for. That's easy. - - - "...Was that... meant to just be a parable, Mister Woz?" She doesn't speak up immediately, once the story is finished- and her throat sounds harsh, when she does. "Um- I guess, don't... answer that, if that's not the point.." "...Thanks." A sleeve wipes across her eyes, in tandem with a soft sniffle. "He- he got to be happy, and loved, right..? The centipede guy? Even though he was going to..." "That's not fair. That all that's left is- is a statue." Her voice is pitifully soft. "...But it'd be awful, w-wouldn't it? If it ended with a happily ever after..? People don't really ever get those." There's not much more chatter out of her, sitting, trembling slightly on the containment unit's cot, fiddling with fabric and being sure her eyes don't fall across anything in particular. Outside it, indicators read out the work's result as 'Normal'- the Enkephalin still gets siphoned off from what ought to have been just an interaction between acquaintances. It's a good tell that their time is about up, at least- a bit of the precious little warmth bleeding away with the reminder that this is still Lobotomy Corporation, and she's still in dire trouble.
Timespace Riders	Woz? Sougo makes a handwobble. "He helps other people that way, sure. But he's nice, to 'the people he's Kamen Rider to.' I meant Lilian and Petra, more than him." And, of course, his future self--but he tries not to think of him. I cannot leave the facility of course, so could I prevail upon you to serve as their escort? "A spa day... Sure," says Sougo brightly. "I'd love to!" He slides off of Angela's desk. There is a slight wince, as one of his injuries complain, but it can't dampen his spirits. "And I know they'll love it, too." Sougo rocks gently on his feet, sighing happily. "Thanks for having this talk with me, Angela. I think I'm gonna go check on Woz and Meika, now..." Back in the cell, with Meika, Woz nods his head. That's not fair. That all that's left is- is a statue. The retainer smiles wanly at Meika. "Indeed. It is not. But, as you also observed, the Centipede did find love, and happiness, despite it all." He stands from his seat. "It is not parable, but history, though we may learn from one as surely as the other, no?" The retainer can't see the Enkephalin gauge--but he probably wouldn't look, even if one were on the inside of the cell. His attention is still on Meika, his tone soft and gentle. "Many in that quiet town would say the same--that it is not fair. Were you to find the warriors who arrived to save it with him, they surely would, as well--none, more so than the Hero of Hearts, the Curse-Bearer, or even the lady Knight, who first distrusted him so." "But--" A single index is rasied. "The statue stands as testament to the people's love of him, that even those who came only after his passing may know that he was loved, and may see the signs of his love in the hearts he touched with the time he had." Woz is silent, for a few moments, allowing his retelling to sit. "Our time today nears its end, Meika. However... I am pleased to have shared this, with you." He places one hand over his heart, bowing deep at the waist, before rising and standing before the door.