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Lilian Rook     For the even more limited selection of people even allowed to know a time, date, and specific Warpgate code, once again there is no indication of where 'this place' actually is. They're given no opportunity to look it up, the destination is artificial and thus on no database, and the arrival point has no bearing on any kind of GPS and no reference to any known Earth-like space.

    At the very least though, for those who'd have sampled it before, the air here is somewhat less 'completely overwhelming'. There's that 'exciting' licking-a-battery tingle with every breath, and feeling of slightly too low oxygen content, like being halfway up a mountain, as well as the faint, hair-raising tease of static energy circulating all around, moderately unpleasant to those without much magical talent, but conversely invigorating and stimulating to those with it. Compared to Arx Zenith though, well, it seems like the kind of place that'd prefer low background levels and clean instrumentation, rather than feeling like training on top of everest.

    The mystery building itself follows in keeping with the same overall brand of design however, with a wide, circular, central hub, large enough to drive a pair of carts abreast down the clean, polished white walkway that encircles an apparently popular idea of a semi-natural space in the building's geometric center; in this case, it's some kind of transplant out of a park, with a large, old growth tree that reaches up past a second storey walkway, with mossy greenish bark, bloodred flowers and pale white fruits, surrounded by an arrangement of strange bushes, flowers, and creepers, with but a pair of benches and a narrow stone path across.

    Bright, sunny light, though no doubt artificial, seems to radiate without a lot of source, coming from a dome high up and seeming to fill the whole area. Green walls with white numbered arrow stripes point down several branches radiating off the hub as spokes, to various departments with names emblazoned in a few different languages each. Tiny emitters mounted to walls display long holographic scrolls of information, some of them being merely news video or mindless filler for people waiting, but most of it being staff notices, timetables, equipment usage and power division statistics, reminders, personnel calls, and similar.

    Despite the spacious, 'open concept' design, it's surprisingly busy, with technicians, doctors, analysts, and more incomprehensible career men and women, moving here and there with their noses in smart devices or ears in calls. Even those sitting down around the edges aren't taking much time out for anything. There is no visitor area. There isn't even a help desk --just a moderately pleasant blonde secretary in a dark uniform that accepts sign-ins between managing calls.

    The only place you're allowed for the time being --and it certainly is a matter of loaner keycards for surprisingly robust security-- is the central, arbitrarily 'northward' spoke, skipping a large number of other radiating branches to reach the outer rim of the whole facility, going along the perimeter for a while until hitting one of many identical examination rooms, only recognizable by its number. None of them have windows to peek through, likely for privacy concerns, and they're all locked from the inside.

    And, of all things, despite this being Lilian's whole idea, and ostensibly one she got passed solely due to extreme nepotism, she's stuck outside on a green-cushioned bench looking bored as sin, flipping through a physical book and trying to not look worn out in the way that people stuck in hospital waiting rooms for over an hour try for. She doesn't look like she's just waiting politely for people to show up. She looks put out for having not been allowed in.
Lilian Rook     Inside is a more exciting story. The rooms are bigger than they'd appear from the outside, but more so than that, you're stuffed through a tiny airlock sort of arrangement that manages to cheekily blast you with a 'gentle' spray mist of something or other that tastes like bleach and copper, then some kind of humming low lines, ostensibly for decontamination purposes.

    The area beyond is one solid wall of semi-recognizable medical equipment, with a surprisingly small and sleek MRI equivalent, sealed transparent cabinet of 'interesting'-looking compounds, bags, and vials, and something like a standing x-ray station. There's an examination table more towards the middle, with a circular desk filled with projected monitors in an arrangement that can't possibly all be for the one chair in the middle. The opposite side, bizarrely, has a number of tiny potted plants, almost of bonsai stature, that are completely unidentifiable, and cannot possibly be for decoration, as well as some more esoteric, even alchemical, storage implements, an area that'd be the mirror of the standing x-ray were it not a four point magic circle of some sort, and what is obviously a blood storage freezer that has way, way too many individual vials for them to just be different blood types for transfusion.

    Outside of 'Onyx Witch' being dragged here for an absolutely mandatory health inspection, there is only one other person: a woman who seems like she can't possibly be more than fifteen years older than Lilian, but with a perfectly obvious family resemblance, albeit with more wavy, dark, reddish brown hair than her straight and near-black, pulled into a braided circle and back knot, only escaping a little down her shoulders.

    She's also considerably taller, and pointedly not wearing a uniform of any kind, wearing something more like very conservative, early 20th century chic brand fashion, expensive and technically unprofessional earrings and necklace and all. The girl they're here for is afforded 'better than a hospital gown', but not the full luxury of comfortable casual clothes, more along the lines of a silky white poncho that's too big for her, and has been directed to sit on the table while a couple of robotic arms are currently slowly moving around her, printing some sort of data to the woman's personal smart device, installed in her necklace.

    For the couple with strong senses for magic, she is definitely, definitely, not 'just a scientist'. She has about the same degree of raw presence than Lilian does. This is both a very impressive amount, speaking to someone experienced and multi-disciplinarian, and also important for the converse fact: that Lilian is essentially already there at her much younger age.

    Also she's far too important to greet anyone nosing around her examination room.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur loves that feeling of vibrant energy. Once more, his Aspect gauge is maxed and displays a sort of rainbow effect, albeit a slower one. He takes a KEYCARD and CAPTCHALOGUES it in his SYLLADEX, granting him its relevant accesses. Anytime he sees open concept layouts he gets tense though. They're more like boss battle arenas than one ever really thinks.

    Despite that subtle tension, he first approaches Lilian and gives her his classic greeting handshakes. "Glad ya did this, Princess." He also heads inside. Being blasted with bleach is about what he expected, but he takes it. He somehow maintains his swagger and confidence through it all as he enters. Literally the very, very first thing he does is find the most in-charge person to hassle, and he does it.

    Specifically, he approaches Older Lilian Rook and immediately attempts to lock onto her hand to perform a complex COOLKID HANDSHAKE despite the fact that this is probably the high score for Not Taking That Shit so far. "What, there a TIME PORTAL up in those AIRLOCKS or somethin'? DAMN, dawg, you got that STRONG RESEMBLING."

    He also gives all due attention to Onyx Witch. "Yo! Ony'! Hey! How you been since-- how you been? They treatin' ya alright? Gettin' those lumps un-lumped, gettin' that respect?" He's focused on making sure she has stuff to say that will keep her mind off the stressful aspects of the previous encounter. "They doin' hella science around here? Shit, I could'a brought my Alchemiter. Wait, no, the rod got blasted, that's a no-go. Whatever, don't matter." He keeps up a sustained, constant good-humored barrage of casual friendliness. He'd go coolkid-handshake her but even he can't coolkid handshake around a half-dozen robot arms.
Strawberry Princess      Strawberry Princess isn't in costume today- probably, one might infer, to avoid making Onyx upset. Instead, she looks like a badly-dressed twentysomething, nondescript in a dark hoodie except for her gangly height and the ugly scar that swoops up her temple and into her scalp; it makes her ironically stand out in the professional and genteel surroundings, putting her somewhat ill-at-ease. She's practically unrecognizable from her magical self until she opens her mouth- that haltingly hoarse voice is recognizable anywhere.

     "Hey," she says, sitting down next to Lilian on the bench while they wait- the Cool Girls' Table instinct is strong. She sets a heavy duffle bag down on the floor next to it with a thunk; by the shape of it, her wand must be inside. "Thanks, again. For... all of this." She greets the others, too, as they assemble; then follows them inside when the door opens, quietly filing in at last in line.


     Onyx Witch has, by her own request, been patched up the bare minimum that medical staff will possibly let her skate by with, even though they could surely work some kind of healing magic to make her injuries disappear. The bruises and cuts from her swan song in Tallahassee still decorate her body, sewn up or bandaged over- she's determined to let them scar. And the name on the displays is "Onyx Witch", with the 'real' name of "Anna Norfolk" being relegated to parentheses at best. She'd throw an absolute fit otherwise. She's even managed to roll up the sleeves of her white gown to vaguely resemble the cut of her old costume; her blonde hair parted in that precise way.

     Onyx is, in short, someone who is hanging on to her identity by her absolute fingernails. It might be sad if she weren't so defiant about it.

     All the guilt and anxiety and cathartic sobbing has, evidently, worked its way out of her system in the course of a few days in a comfortable bed. Now her eyes are still a bit red and puffy, her movements still painful and stiff... but she manages a real, sincere, gap-toothed smile and wave as the assorted Elites file in, jostling one of the medical robo-arms as she does. Most of them she recognizes, one way or another, and it doesn't seem like she's sore about what happened. If anything, there's an undertone of quiet shame.
Strawberry Princess      Onyx manages to give Arthur a little chuckle, though it fades to a subdued little wince- if the state of the cuts that are visible is any indication, the one on her abdomen from Lezard's spear must still be there too. She grabs a handful of loose gown-folds in repressed glee and kicks her legs like a kid on a swing. "Yeah. I'm keeping them. The ones that'll keep, anyway. It'd feel wrong not to. Just wish they'd let me wear real clothes."

     She gives him a look, like she expects the Obviously Cool and Obviously Youthful Peer to intrinsically appreciate and comprehend the inherent coolness of scars.
Doctor Strange      Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts, silently hovers over to the sign-in desk and politely scribbles his name in the most unintelligble chicken-scratch imaginable. He also flashes his Paladins ID. Knowing him, it's probably some kind of arcane and obtuse flex.

     When the time comes to move through the decontamination chamber, he takes to it wordlessly, but not without an annoyed shade taking resisdence in his usual frown. Past that, however, he seems as a duck in water. Familiar with both the occult and hospitals, he is quite at ease in this place that seems a mixture of both.

     In stark contrast to the woman wearing conservative clothes and 'Onyx Witch' in her odd poncho, Strange is wearing his usual sorcerous attire. Navy roughspun tunic and leggings, wrapped cloth boots and bracers, the vibrant red Cloak of Levitation, and a rose-brass amulet.

     He offers the woman in the examination room a curt nod. Then, he introduces himself to 'Onyx Witch.' "We haven't met. I'm Doctor Stephen Strange," he says. "I'm with the same group as Lilian and Strawberry Princess." That's all he has to say, for the moment.

     The latter he seems to recognize immediately. Time travel hooliganism.

     Arthur's mention of a TIME PORTAL does raise his eyebrow. Maybe that's not such a bad idea. Later, though. For now, he's searching his magical knowledge to discern the purpose of the space across from the x-ray machine.
Strawberry Princess      "'Doctor', huh," Onyx says. She regards Stephen with significantly more wariness than she did Arthur, despite the fact that Strange is one of the few people here not to have beaten the stuffing out of her. "You're a little old to be doing dress-up like that. Aren't you."
Tamamo     It should be no surprise at all that Tamamo no Mae has elected to take this opportunity to see Onyx Witch. (There may be another name attached, but she need not use that, if its bearer is not.) For better or worse, she arrives with the larger party, rather than having kept Lilian company, and offers her greeting to each in turn. She's familiar with Strawberry-Princess and Mr. Lowell by this point, has at least caught William Pauwel's name after asking around a bit after that excursion for the sake of matching it to his face, and will recognize Dr. Strange the moment he speaks, though not before then.

    The sunlight is unfortunately artificial, but that magical air does feel pleasantly invigorating. It's less of a stream of espresso shots than the academy was, and maybe more like black tea. Hospital-esque settings themselves don't get much more reaction from her, and she walks through toward the destination, noticing the stripes on the walls as they peel away in each direction, but following the directed line to the 'northern' area and, eventually, to Lilian.

    "Ah, Lilian. Have you been waiting long?" Obviously, she has, but Tamamo still delivers it with casual good humor.

    The copper-bleach spray has Tamamo's fur bristling. It smooths down again with a shake, afterward. Tamamo's frown disappears by the time she sees the room's occupants. She doesn't introduce herself immediately to the elder Rook, who appears to be busy, but greets Onyx Witch, largely leaving the space for Arthur to occupy with his coolkid energy, but hanging just behind to deliver a smile and, "I am glad to see you much recovered. Do you perhaps recall all who were present?" There's a lot about that encounter she could say, but it wouldn't be helpful to say it just right now.
William Pauwel Not all good deeds go unpunished. It was about as long of a shot as he's ever dared to make, asking if he could go visit Onyx Witch at... Wherever the heck it was that she was being kept. Government spook-like things rarely like having Will-types around their expensive, secret facilities. But here he is! With a keycard and everything!

The low-level buzz of ambient magic is making the inside of Will's skull feel like it's made of bees, but it's not a sensation he's altogether unfamiliar with. It still doesn't help him feel any less on edge; the LAST time he was anywhere near anything that made him feel like this, he'd got part of his soul ripped out of him. Unpleasant to say the least! The fact that he wasn't allowed to bring in his get well presents don't make the experience any better either.

Something about potential surveillance bugs and hazardous contaminants. Fie!

Will keeps his spirits up, though! His ID badge swings cheerfully around his neck with every sauntering step. It looks dreadfully out of place against his distinctly... old-west-ranch-hand style: Plaid flannel shirt, well-worn jeans, boots made for walking. The card jaunts especially badly whenever he pauses mid-step to stare in awestruck wonder at the medical marvels whirring and churning all around. What an amazing facility this is...!

It even comes with decontamination airlocks! That is, at least, something that he doesn't seem too bothered by. The smell of bleach and disinfectant under sterile white lights only conjure happy memories.

He gives Lilian the same cheery wave as he does all the others. "Hi!" He'd say to anyone he hasn't actually formally met before, "William Pauwel, gunslinger and explorer." Or otherwise: "Hi! Nice seein' you're doin' well!"

Onyx Witch, though-- She gets a particularly shy tip of the hat and bow of the head. "Howdy there. Sorry, I'd intended t' bring a couple of things, but security's sort of tight. They've got all kinds of neat stuff 'round here, don't they? Wish I could stay and study it-- but t'ain't important. How're you doin'? Well, I hope?"
Strawberry Princess      "Wouldn't know if I forgot anybody," Onyx replies astutely, giving Tamamo a cautious little smile. "Unless you have a headcount. Or a checklist. I did get hit on the head. But I remember you. That's what you're asking, right?" The smile shrinks by a degree or two, to a contemplative lip-purse.

     "I think you messed with my brain. Looking back on it. The way I felt didn't make sense. But I wasn't well. Maybe I needed that."
Strawberry Princess      Will gets a silent half-laugh out of Onyx; an audible exhalation through her nose. Arthur taught her better than to laugh for real, with the way she is. "Hurts all over," she tells him, in her characteristically plodding voice. "But I don't mind it. You looked like shit by the end there. How do *you* feel?"

     After a moment's pause, she adds: "Don't hug me again. The first time was nice. But you might pop a stitch."
Tamamo     Tamamo's smile doesn't even falter at the reference to her 'non-standard persuasion techniques.' "That was much my wondering, though I would hope you recalled a few others. Not all, of course, are necessary to think of just now. Well, let us be introduced again. I am Tamamo no Mae, a goddess of some repute." Possibly not good repute, but that's a touchy topic. "I did put forth some effort to convince you, this is so, but only so that you might make a choice. I would not say I am displeased at the choice you made, but be assured that it was your own."

    She glances toward the same spot Dr. Strange is focusing onto, but lets examining the room itself be, for now. Glancing briefly to Will, she adds, "To suddenly embrace may be a point of high drama, but would not have been enough to make clear the two paths before you in that moment, no?"
Lilian Rook     Lilian, out in the hall, looks up from her book at Arthur. There's a second where it looks like she might frown or roll her eyes, but then a mysteriously unreadable little smile creeps over her lips. "Of course~ You're perfectly welcome to visit any time." she says, not really allowed to visit herself. When Strawberry Princess sits down, she actually lowers the time, starting with "We have *got* to get you shopping as soon as possible." in a way that would be an awkward ice breaker if she were capable of sounding awkward. "But . . . well, I won't lie and say 'it's no problem', but you deserved the effort. And so did she."

    At last she slowly snaps the book fully closed as Tamamo approaches, glancing at her a couple of times on the way down the hall, not quite suppressing a certain sense of being inordinately pleased with herself. "A while, but don't worry about it." she says, slightly 'upbeat', for lack of a more concrete mood to pin to it. "I'll be waiting here forever anyways." She then rolls her eyes slightly. "The head researcher is not to be disturbed when in-session." It's enough to keep her in a good enough mood to wave laxly to William. There is no apology for judo flipping him, but evidently no real animosity. She seems to be, to a much lesser degree, distantly amused by his presence, like Arthur.
Doctor Strange      Strange is torn from his observation and briefly tilts his head, shrugging slightly. "Well, I could... list the other titles, if you want. Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts... Herald of the Vishanti... Seneschal of the Paladins..." His gravelly American deadpan trails off. Then, "The magic isn't what put me in /horrendous/ debt, so I... usually open with Doctor." He nods.
Lilian Rook     Inside, there is absolutely no mention of Anna's real name anywhere. It doesn't seem like obliging a childish whim either; it's the absolute professionalism of treating her like an adult (albeit barely) and accepting pseudonyms and titles as valid log entries.
    First into the room, Arthur gets the woman to tolerate his handshake for about the minimum length of time that is sufficiently cool to be called done. She looks at him with the sense that she's clearly deliberating withdrawing her hand at several points, but errs just slightly on the probability of it being some strange foreign custom and thus worth being marginally polite about. If only just.

    "Charmed." she finally says to Doctor Strange, the first to introduce himself politely, offering him her hand in the sort of handshake posture that somehow seems slightly out of place, in a vague sort of excessive femininity to it. "Now now, do be kind. It's a little rustic, certainly, but there's nothing wrong with the classics." she says to Onyx Witch, chidingly in a way that, again feels distantly out of place. "Perhaps a little quaint, but a doctorate is perfectly respectable. By the looks of you . . . studied abroad, perhaps? That American accent, but the rest about you --India? No, Tibet, perhaps? I get that sense."

    Finally she looks to the rest. "And you must be Lilian's coworkers." she says. There is the slightest of pauses before 'coworkers', as if searching for a word that specifically isn't 'friends'. "Delighted to meet you all. She looks to Tamamo. "Oh but you'd be the infamous twelfth century woman who's been staying in the east wing for the last little while? We've never formally met, have we? Only glanced out the door here and there. Allison Rook, of course." She looks to Strawberry "And you must be Miss Witch's little friend." She says so with some slight trepidation, like meeting the friend of a friend who showed up kind of drunk. "Delighted, darling. I see she's at least getting along with some 'varied' people of sufficient calibre."

    Then she looks to Will. Her lips purse and then twist into a frown. "Who is this boy? I've never heard of him. Surely he can't work with Lilian. And dear lord in heaven what happened to his arms? They're like lumps of meat." she says, with no further elaboration.

    Okay, no, it definitely sticks out now. Her accent. It's slightly different from Lilian's. There's a tinge of a local dialect that probably doesn't exist anymore. A pattern of speech that's slightly old-fashioned here and there even by Strange's standards.

    "Oh, this poor little thing just *refuses* to stitch them up properly." she finally says on the subject of Onyx Witch's injuries. "It's perfectly fine, though. When she's twenty five and hunting for a husband, no doubt she'll see sense and clean up."

    She seems to be finishing up a rather *invasive* medical examination through lots of fancy sorts of exotic, low-level radiation. The projection she's reading is, by virtue of physics, only one-way, however, keeping it essentially private, even as she looks over it to speak.

    "What can I do you the pleasure of?" she asks, with strongly affected patience. "You have some kind of business with this sweet little war hero, don't you?"
Lilian Rook     To Doctor Strange's examination, the most obviously occult place in the room, albeit obviously drawn via computerized precision and laser cutting, is a sort of itty bitty faux-geomantic array, channeling from the cardinal directions in western style than the five from the eastern tradition. It probably doesn't do much more than juice up whatever is put upon it in a variety of exciting ways, but the instrumentation near it is no doubt very much intended to read the results.
William Pauwel It's fine! Will understands all too well how it feels when it actually hurts to laugh. He chuckles enough for them both. Which is to say, a polite amount that does not spiral into deranged cackling. "Hah! If you can believe it, that kind of thing happens to be way more often than it should. I remember that one time I got my arms ashed off."

There's an awkward beat where Will realizes his hand is definitely not a pile of ash or a mechanical prosthetic. "I got better," he clarifies, sheepishly.

People needle him about his propensity for DYNAMIC HUGS! Will's face flushes until it's almost tomato-colored. "H-hey, I never said it was a /smart/ idea. Just, I figured that if I was in that kinda position, I'd probably do with a good hug, too. So I went... for it?"

It's not a good reason.

Will's heart clearly does quite a bit of thinking for him.

"Worked out about as well as I could've hoped anyway," he admits with an awkward chuckle. "Don't worry, I ain't about to launch into another right this second. Don't want to be the guy what's responsible for them keepin' you here any longer than you aughta."

Will frowns at the mysterious science woman. "They /just/ got better. You try regeneratin' limbs out of the blue all of a sudden. I've been workin' on gettin' them back into shape! Just-- it takes a while!" She looks familiar. He can't place exactly /where/ until...

He looks to Lilian.

He looks back at Science Woman.

He looks back at Lilian.

And then his mouth makes a little 'o' and he courteously tips his hat. "Name's Will, miss. Pleased t' meet you! I'm an... Acquaintance? Of Strawberry Princess'." By which he means he partially ingratiated himself with her through shared culinary heresy, but that's another thing entirely.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur laughs a bit. "They go head-first on the marketing around here. Get all heroic and shit and I guarantee they'll give ya some classic witch looks, for real. Jams hard with what they got goin' on. You're gonna love those scars too, they're rad stories. Makes ya /tough/! I got so many scars under this robe."

    He doesn't, despite all best efforts.

    "Yeah, you were pumpin' some rhetoric-omancy weren't ya? Shit, my flow felt more legit than usual." Arthur responds to Tamamo, tilting his head oddly. "Felt like you had some Blood Aspect in there, but it was all... weird, like, past God Tier shit. Wild stuff." He shakes his head in a baffled way.

    Co-worker? "Makin' that sound like I show up to fight with Princess Haughty in a suit and tie. I don't fuck with that, but yeah, we do lotta work together. Get shit /done/!" He nods firmly, intensely. "I'm here 'bout that magic. I did some supplyin' for her in the last half, I wanna see where that's goin'. I got hella Alchemy, from back when I was first figuring out my magical stuff. What's haps here, what can she get channelin'?"
Lilian Rook     "That would explain it." Allison sniffs slightly in Will's direction. "Spontaneous, uncontrolled extremity replacement. Just downright chaotic by the sense of it. No proper geometry at all. Young man you *really* must work at aligning those things properly. You must be completely out of order; there's not a whit of magic about you." she says. The fact that she has such an absurdly keen sense for this at a glance tells a lot about her experience, and particular pursuits, long before she could bother to go into them. "Young people shouldn't lack motivation. Especially not growing young men. How do you expect to get married like that?"

    She works over trying to put together something to say to Arthur, and then seems to wisely quit the field on meeting him halfway before speaking a single word. "I do apologize, but it's rather difficult for me to understand your accent. No fault of your own, of course. Who knows where you're from. I wouldn't be so crass as to immediately disparage someone who has achieved such a level of advancement through one means or another." she says. "Beg your pardon though, could you say that again? All I caught is that you profess yourself to be an alchemist."
Strawberry Princess      To a medical expert's eye, or perhaps elucidated by a particularly intuitive display, Onyx's injuries look 'unnatural'- not in how they were inflicted, but in what happened immediately after. Bleeders were clamped and holes sealed with her own telekinetic force, wielded expertly like a dozen hemostats to keep herself from bleeding out. It must've hurt like hell, but somehow she managed to concentrate on that even through everything else: without that giving her blood vessels a chance to clot, she probably would've bled out before getting to a bed.

     Despite the professionalism and courtesy afforded her, Onyx Witch persistently regards the 'lead researcher' with the kind of wary antiauthoritarianism that children wield against adults. Patronizing grown-ups are suspect, and the more patronizing and more grown-up they are the more suspect they are, and that woman is about as patronizing and grown-up as it's possible to get without breaching the Hard-Candy Grandma threshold.

     "I won't want a husband," she replies, with as much firmness as can possibly be mustered. "I want to kill monsters again." It might almost sound whimsical if one forgets that she spent an entire third of her life doing that already.

     She combos that directly into a reply to Tamamo, carrying over the same vague resentfulness. "Of course it was my choice. I want this more than anything. I'd never choose anything else. You couldn't make me."


     Strawberry Princess herself mingles quietly with the other Elites to the extent that they greet her, lingering near the door by Lilian, but doesn't go out of her way to talk to Onyx. Though Onyx Witch seemed to recognize Strawberry's name when Strange dropped it, she doesn't give the scruffy twentysomething a second look, and Strawberry doesn't seem eager to correct the mis-impression just yet. It might get awkward.

     She visibly grimaces at being called Onyx's 'little friend'. "Coworker," she gently corrects, already adequately self-conscious about her appearance. "But- thank you. For... taking care of her, like this." Her voice is a little quieter than usual, so as not to carry the whole length of the room.
    
Doctor Strange      "Nepal," says Strange, impressed by Allison's knowledge of magical traditions. This manages to turn him away from the geomantic display completely. That's the only sign of his interest, because he's still wearing that disaffected frown of his.

     He offers an answer for her question. "Kind of the same reason as Arthur, here, but, just imagine it's worded less like I'm about to hit the skate park." Not that it's a bad thing everything Arthur says sounds like it'd be spoken from beneath a backwards baseball cap, in flight following a sick ollie. It's pretty entertaining. He just has to keep up a certain image.

     The marriage talk bristles Strange perhaps more than the younger people. "Y'know--I feel like I should stick up for the singles in the room and say that... I've never had a wife." He lets that sort of sink. "But... i /have/ had a Lamborghini... a cabinet just for watches in the several thousand dollar range... and an interdimensional mansion. Just saying."
Tamamo     At Allison's introduction, Tamamo turns. "The twelfth century...? Ah, by this nation's calendar, that would be the era I last walked the Earth, it is so. I would admit, the Gregorian system makes for easier counting than the addition of dynasties."

    She takes the step foward to be in handshaking range, which she offers with outwardly acceptable grace, though a socially sharp individual might notice she approaches it like someone merely honoring a foreign custom while in a foreign land, and an especially sharp one might wonder if she maintained that distance on purpose. "I am, as you may have since heard, Tamamo no Mae. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I thank you for your house's hospitality, and for taking charge of the displacement of Onyx Witch." 'Convenient disappearance' might also have worked, there. Being 'legally dead' usually implies a messy business.

    Tamamo steps back afterward, letting Allison Rook talk about a number of other things. Helpfully, she follows Will's speech with, "There were several others who lent their aid the night that resulted in your patient's arrival, Mr. Pauwel among them." She says this brightly enough, and is far too polite to comment on how effective or suicidal any particular idea might have been. Will survived, so clearly it wasn't the worst idea he'll ever have.
William Pauwel "Wh--" Will backpedals. Something about Science Woman's demeanor puts him on the back foot and keeps him there. "Geometry? I don't..." He compares his hands, puts them together. His fingers match up! "Everything's symmetrical, what kind of geometry-- Married!?" What! Marriage!? "I- I haven't really thought about m-m-marriage with all the things goin' on! I've been busy! Uh-- and I don't... Really do magic??"

That might also explain it.

Also what might explain things: The jagged bit of soul-stuff making up Will's everything that looks like it was also relatively recently grafted back on. Somehow. "I'm more of a... machinery and science kind of guy?"

Does everyone here do magic? Is that a thing?

"I came around to see how miss Onyx was doing, what with bein' there at the whole kerfluffle in Florida. I admit, t'ain't what I was expectin' to find when I went out there, but it's a sight better than I'd feared." Strange has also yet to be married. Will gives him a sympathetic and... admiring... look? This person is apparently the sort of bachelor Will hopes he grows into.

You know. If he... has to remain a bachelor.

Love is hard when you're an Elite.
Tamamo     "Might you tell me, what is this 'Blood Aspect'?" Tamamo asks Arthur, immediately very curious. She doesn't contradict his description otherwise.

    She doesn't correct Onyx Witch's misunderstanding of that earlier statement. That, again, falls under things that wouldn't be very helpful to talk about.

    The marriage topic just makes her thoughtful. Hmm. Hmmm.
Lilian Rook     "Of course, of course." Allison replies to Onyx Witch, frowning mildly at the unnatural correction of her injuries on the internal display, which she rotates around with her hands in a way that probably reminds Strange of Tony Stark's exorbitantly pricey displays. To her credit, she doesn't say it dismissively; she only sounds a little exasperated by it. "You have that much in common with that girl. Nothing wrong by that --a girl can have her priorities-- but even once I fix you up, you won't be this young and resilient forever. Settling down comes sooner than you think --especially for your type." She manages to say that part with a sort of obliging, affected wisdom to it, like it's something she personally knows by proxy, and, implicitly, outright expects '''that girl''' will inevitably abide by as well. It's like saying it to Onyx Witch will make it more true.

    "Oh well, that's still quite far off in the future for you. You'll have plenty of time to adventure if this all goes well. That girl was right to send you here; it might've taken years to sort this out the old-fashioned way."

    "Oh, begging your pardon." she then says airily to Strawberry Princess. "The way she spoke about you two, I assumed you had a much closer relationship. That's perfectly alright though. It's no trouble. She's been a sweetheart so far, and this is a valuable opportunity to see how far we can push our newest routines in regards to magical rehabilitation. You never see young ones with this sort of drive anymore; I look forward to seeing how she gets on with the program."

    Finally, she allows herself a laugh at Strange's declaration; that of a thoroughly amused woman who is much older than thirty-something going on twenty one. "Oh no mind. I'm aware that mountain training sort of lifestyle isn't terribly conducive to home life. 'Karmic attachments' and all. Don't worry. You're the type that ages well. Perfectly handsome until you're fully grey. Certainly you won't have any trouble having your pick with a reputable livelihood like that."

    Obviously magical, a good-looking older man, rich, doctorate --it probably all adds up to why she gets on with Strange just fine. The runner up would clearly be Tamamo, though she gives off the sense it's by a sort of 'cultural appreciation' rather than mutual understanding. In the way that she refuses to be snooty about Arthur's 'skate park accent' because the boy is obviously juiced, Tamamo no Mae is a pretty well-known personage deep into old and rich spiritual traditions.

    Even when she shakes her hand, though. There's still a slight sense of tension, though. Like she isn't quite sure what to make of her. The sense that she wouldn't think of being impolite, but like she still isn't quite over her daughter dragging a complete stranger home, never mind a kitsune. "That's quite alright. The place has slowly been getting quieter ever since the war." she says. There is a certain, strange emphasis on 'the war'.

    "And besides, I'm certain there are plenty of things that girl could learn from someone such as yourself. I swear I can't tell what she's thinking more than half the time, but she seems to have taken a shine to you." This much, unstated, but very obvious, is Allison's way of saying she appreciates the fact that Tamamo's domestic abilities might rub off on Lilian through exposure.
Lilian Rook     But her gaze turns cold when William bashfully answers. "Oh." she says, suddenly without tone or inflection, like a snap change in the wind. "I see. No wonder she's never spoken of you. I'm surprised they let you in. Honestly. What is the world coming to?"

    But she's too busy for more uncomfortable opinions at the moment. "Miss Witch, might I ask you again to confirm how long you've been doing magic, and this time, I would like you to describe as much of your personal, aesthetic experience with wielding magic in as much detail as possible. How have you felt when using it? In what form would you describe it with your five senses, and your personal intuitions? Describe it to me as if it were a tangible thing; an object that you've misplaced and would like someone to find."
Arthur Lowell     "I'm from the street." The declaration is loaded with weight.

    Holy shit, fuck off, Arthur.

    What is cool for this woman? This... vaguely Downton Abbey woman? Arthur squints at her lack of comprehension, examining her for a moment. It takes him a while to process something. In fact, a bar is filling up near him: ACQUIRED COOL is rapidly increasing. Arthur somehow manages to acquire an aggressively transatlantic accent. It somehow manages to not even sound insulting or taunting, he's just trying to sound cool. And this, the transatlantic accent, is what was this specific type of low-class media-driven cool was. It translates exactly.

    "One means or another, huh? That has a good sound to it. I'm Arthur Lowell. Now, a good part of what I've been wanting to know about how she's being taken care of is, have you managed any channeling. I know she's got the circuitry her, have you tried any magic through her yet, the way I did?" He also clarifies briefly. "Punchcard Alchemist. I won't be touching any of those flasks and vials, not tonight and not ever." No further explanation though. "
Arthur Lowell     Arthur then just totally swaps back to his other way of speaking when he turns to chatter at Tamamo. "Blood, dawg. It's a leadership thing, a blood-bonds kinda thing. Blood Aspect is all 'bout attachment and social connection and unity and stuff. But your deal is Light, right? I remember you doing luck stuff just like Light Aspects, and you got that whole... /sun/ thing goin' on." He waves a hand vaguely, as if trying to waft smokey ambiguity away from himself.
Strawberry Princess      "I've been 'doing magic' for five years. Plus two months and eight days. The aesthetic experience..." Onyx Witch closes her eyes, smooths out the wrinkles of the gown in her lap, and takes a little breath, rummaging through her memories. "Five senses. Right."

     "It feels like a bright thing. But it doesn't have any color, not even white. Cool. Somewhere behind my eyes when I close them. It's radiating out in shape. Spikes or bristles, curving and angling. When I use it, it's a 'me' outside of me, like a limb that isn't really there. It's purpose and intent, like telling my arm to move, only it isn't an arm, it's wings or a blast."

     "It feels important, too. Important to me. To being me. Like I'm becoming something bigger. A more true 'me' than the 'me' that I am right now, emerging somehow. Does that make sense?" She opens her eyes, looking at Allison- and, to a lesser extent, the other Elites- for approval.

     "Oh, and the 'heart ability'. The..." She makes a gesture with her hand, like what she did while grasping the power lines in Tallahassee- right before everything electronic exploded in black tendrils. "'Shattering Touch'. It feels like feeling things past my skin. Like I could reach out, through a cable or connection, and 'grab' the other side. Branching like a tree."


     Strawberry rubs her arm uncomfortably, stealing a glance at Onyx while Allison talks to her. "How she- talked about me," Strawberry reiterates hesitantly. "Thank you. That's... it does mean a lot." It's followed, a moment later, by a difficult smile. "'Drive'. Yeah. She cares about this, I know. More than anything. I've... been there, before. And I'm glad, that she gets her second chance."
Tamamo     Tamamo is a complicated matter for Allison Rook, and will remain so for now. Only time will tell if being close to a chef inspires Lilian to take to the kitchen. If Tamamo keeps using at as an excuse to show off her own skill with a knife, probably not.

    'The War,' though. Hm. That's not likely a 12th-century reference.

    "I am the Sun, it is so," Tamamo says to Arthur, not clarifying the aspects in which that is either a literal or a figurative statement. "Good Fortune is among the blessings I may impart. You still have that one I granted you, I hope?" Its importance as insurance chains around into another important point, but she isn't going to explain why.

    "As to Blood..." Tamamo has to stop and think about that one. "It is not a style of sorting Authority with which I am familiar, but it is true that all look to the same Sun, is that not so? In the day's light do people come together." That could sound like a bit of a stretch, but when you're referencing one of the top three gods of a pantheon, that Divine Authority is going to have a wide reach. "I do possess a tool for raising civilizations, and so your guess has some ring of truth." A beat. "Sadly, I should need another six tails to be able to make use of it. That should be quite a sight, if by some eon it does occur." Given the tone, she... might be joking? Maybe.

    Onyx Witch speaks, describing magic. Tamamo gives her a nod, when looked to.
William Pauwel Allison's sudden coldsnap hits Will like a frigid, wintery wind. An uncomfortable chill runs down his spine. This woman... Has Uncomfortable Opinions. At least she isn't sandblasting him with marriage talk anymore?? Will makes a bashful, faux-cowed chuckle. The laugh of someone trying very hard to be polite and not taunt the racist uncle at Thanksgiving with political talk.

It's hard. It's always going to be hard.

"Oh uh, what's an... 'Aspect?'" Will asks in Arthur's general direction, because yes he is approximately this bad with magical and mystical tomfoolery.

His out-of-depthness is bad enough that he can't do anything more than give Onyx's heartfelt explanation an uncertain and wistful smile. "You know... Sometimes, I get kind of jealous about you magical folks. Whenever I hear y'all talk about your stuff, it's almost like I'm a blind man tryin' to understand what color is. It's alright, though," Will chuckles despite his own self-pity. "I've got my own stuff. Y'all are lucky, Onyx. That sounds amazin'. A more true 'you' huh...?"
Doctor Strange      Strange finds Arthur's sudden change in dialect so amusing that he actually smiles, just a little bit. He has nothing to say. Nothing that isn't immature and conspiratorial, anyway.

     It doesn't distract him from Allison's response, because there is a part of him that still loves being talked about. She says that he'd have a lot of options. Yeah... He's not in any trouble there. He nods. "You're probably right," he says idly.

     But something else she says draws his attention away from idle chatter. 'The war.' His brow furrows slightly, and he searches his memory for anything about the history of Lilian's world. In the time he's spent reading about and traveling to the myriad worlds of the Multiverse, has he ever heard of a war between the mortals and gods of Lilian's world?
Lilian Rook     "Very interesting." Allison says to Onyx Witch, not scribbling it down, but obviously recording it. In this case, however, it isn't the detached, neutral 'interesting' of a psychologist. She sounds . . . actually interested. "You can describe a shape and ascribe a location to it. That's very helpful. Muscle memory even moreso. That should give us a very clear metric by which we can compare and an avenue through which we can rehabilitate through the homuncular neural map." she says. "You're a surprisingly eloquent girl when you want to be." Only now does she type something in for her own personal reference.

    "Oh no need to thank me in particular." she reassures Strawberry over her focused, high speed, one-handed typing. "I *do* know her well enough to tell when she likes someone. I hope you continue to lend her your support." she says, lightly and neutrally. "I understand you've been through a lot to regain your proper place in society. That much is worth commending, don't you think?"

    *Firmly* trying not to give Arthur that particular sort of double squinting stare when one really isn't sure if someone could possibly be serious about something, Allison does reply as professionally as possible to Arthur. "That is, in fact, the next preliminary step, since we've confirmed Miss Witch is, if you'll excuse my language, 'medically sound' to proceed. If barely."

    Putting away the display with a wave of her hand, she sweeps away from the bed with a sort of ballroom practiced grace, allowing Onyx Witch to step off. Gesturing towards the circle against the wall, she says "Judging by your current data, I have strong reason to believe that the structure inherent to outputting and directing your magical energy is still relatively intact within your being, albeit somewhat underformed and . . . well let's not say primitive shall we? You've only had a few years to develop it, after all."

    "My theory so far is that you currently lack any spiritual organ for either accumulation or generation of the energy itself, and the 'unique' standards of what there is mean that there will be little immediately compatability with the garden varieties you aren't used to. If I am correct --and I often am-- the correct starting approach would be something similar to . . . let's say re-training an atrophied set of muscles. The process of re-learning to walk after being paralyzed. All the bits and bobs are still there, after all --but almost vestigial after such severe trauma."

    "Don't worry; this won't hurt."
Arthur Lowell     "Sure got it." Arthur says, gesturing over to one side. Where it wasn't before, now his Sylladex is displaying a binary tree of storage cards. Further in is a card inscribed with the image of TAMAMO'S BLESSING, though it's not currently in an accessible LEAF CARD and so he can't RETRIEVE it. "Can't drop the bastard without dumping everything. Yeah, you're way more 'bout LIGHT from the sound of it, can't pin a CLASS though."

    Probably because she doesn't fit into that system at all!

    "ASPECT. It's like..." Arthur explains to William with the caution of someone who is trying to not launch into a big dump. "Like your power type. You know? How you do your stuff. I'm Space aspect because I deal with arrangements of stuff, physical directions, geometry, that kind of thing. Kinda like how Preserves is all about Hope." He gestures to Strawberry Princess.

    He strides forward here, resuming his transatlantic bullshit. It's like an entirely different voice actor. What the fuck? "Marvelous, just a marvel, so she's got plenty of it left in her. You need to test that theory, run it through the paces? I've got some specialization in power generation, some specialization I'm sure she'll work well with." He holds a hand out again. This time, his massive supply of Aspect is toned down to something less painful, motes of light drifting from his palm and fingers like a starry night sky. That's up to Allison Rook and Onyx Witch to encourage that test, though.
Lilian Rook     "Oh stop. You're only embarrassing yourself further." Allison says to Will. Her tone is . . . it contrasts so sharply with Lilian when she's being shitty to people. Comparing the two, with almost the same accent, similar features, at least some common upbringing; Lilian isn't like this when she's being intentionally mean. When she's looking down on people and pushing them around. Allison isn't being openly contemptuous, yet talking to her feels like a constant, cold, grinding put-down. A girl picking on people to cultivate an atmosphere, versus a hardcore Christian fundamentalist being forced to serve an openly gay couple as a wedding planner. It's that feeling.

    "'Lucky'. Ridiculous. What a convenient word. Always the first off the tongue when it comes to why there are haves and have nots. Have a little gumption before blaming something else."

    It's also kind of amazing how fairweather she can between barely tolerating poor heartfelt William's presence and effortlessly schmoozing with Doctor Strange in tacit approval. "Of course I am~ People these days never pay any mind to family duties or virtues. All running about chasing money and thrills, or lazily slaving away at a plant and griping their weekends away about how they couldn't possibly do anything else while being 'oppressed'. I man such as yourself is a refreshing rarity."

    'The war' would stand out immediately to Strange. The huge, disastrous conflict in recent memory has never been called a war. Not even the museum went by any form of 'war museum'. It is always, always, 'the Onslaught'. There aren't any outstanding historical wars that'd diverge sharply from the history he's used to. Probably a fair few shadow wars or another, but that wouldn't carry the same misty gravitas with which Allison said 'The War'.
Strawberry Princess      "'Regain my proper place'," Strawberry repeats carefully as she looks at Allison. The way it rolls off her tongue indicates that something in the implication doesn't sit quite right with her, but she nods anyway, keeping cordial... then startles with realization. "Oh- you meant Lilian, earlier! I'm sorry, I... misunderstood. There's a lot- on my mind. You know. Yeah, she's-"

     Her voice abruptly becomes a shade more hoarse. "Lilian's a friend. I think. Thank you." ... It feels visibly scary to say, but leaving the opposite impression would've been worse.


     "It *was* amazing," Onyx corrects Will, just neutrally enough to leave doubt as to whether she's irritated by the reminder. "And will be again. Once we get this fixed. Maybe be happier that, whatever makes you special, it doesn't come with an expiration date."

     Onyx Witch swings her feet off of the examination table and hops down, straightening up with a little ragged sigh. "'Articulate'. Thank you. I read a lot, is all." Stepping onto the circle, she puts her arms down by her sides and lifts her chin bravely. "It isn't 'primitive'. But don't worry. I wouldn't mind even if it did hurt, you know."

     The magical test pushes a bit of magic into Onyx's system, letting it perfuse throughout her body on the natural currents. They light up like a radionuclide scan, glowing fluorescent blue-green on one of the screens. Near the periphery, her arms and legs, the currents are normal and uncultivated- the weak, standard currents that one might expect from someone who's never used magic before.

     Near her chest, though, the currents abruptly go sclerotic and stop, leaving a cloudy dark patch- like they're hitting some fatal blockage, some enormous mass of calcified scar tissue. Whatever's at her aetheric 'heart' is salted and burned badly enough to ruin even the flows that a normal person ought to have.

     Then, on impulse, she reaches out and accepts one of the motes that Arthur's offering her. It immediately spreads in from her fingertips on the display, perfusing the natural currents as they light up with ten times more magical energy than the circle alone could supply. With that added pressure, slowly, the mana from outside starts to seep in through the scarring blockage and permeate the dark patch like a single droplet of food coloring added to a glass of water.

     And, just as suddenly, a twisted, bristling, spiky shape materializes in the center of the dark blockage, illuminated by the energy it greedily slurps up through its disrupted circulation. It is alien and perfect; a foreign mana structure, somehow slammed directly into Onyx Witch's heart. As it flickers and gutters on the display, dark sparks dance between her fingertips, giving just the lightest hint of her heart ability. She stares at them, quietly taking comfort in the fact that her talents still remain somewhere, and then gives Arthur a silent, closed-eyed smile. It's heartwarmingly adorable.
Arthur Lowell     There's a dozen different ways to immediately attack Allison Rook's perspective and opinion here. A huge violume of potential maneuvers present themselves in how a person might confront the issues in what she said. So many articulate, sensible ways to challenge it. So of course Arthur doesn't say any of that shit, and instead decides to just be really annoying and say, "How does someone 'lazily slave away'?"
Arthur Lowell     Then, it's time to observe the test. "Woah. WOAH! That was-- okay, 'heart ability'. That was what that was? That... /eating/ you did? Jesus, haven't seen something like that since the Prince of Doom, and wasn't as fuckin' unnerving. How'd that get in there?" He immediately has several spirographic spellcircles forming around his arms. "That wasn't you, that was like... something put in you. Did you get that when you became a magical girl?"

    He'll probably stop if he's told to fuck off, but unless there's any of that, he wants to go for a quick ANALYSIS on it. Complex spellcircles twist and interlock as he makes an effort to identify source, nature, and original intended function of the unknown mana construct.
Strawberry Princess      Onyx Witch seems mostly just relieved and entertained by her own minute exercise of her 'heart ability'- Arthur's abrupt concern puts her on the back foot, since she's unable to see the screen that her own scans are displaying on. "Did I get what then? This power? Of course I did." She doesn't recoil from his ANALYSIS, however, and it's significantly more enlightening than merely talking to her could be.

     SOURCE: Similar 'fingerprints' to other magical girls and Endlings.
     NATURE: Magic 'circuit'. Converts energy into predetermined effects on command.
     ORIGINAL FUNCTION: Empower an ordinary human into a magical child.
Doctor Strange      "Yeah, well. You know." Strange shrugs.

     "I think 'haves' and 'have nots' is a little more complex than 'hard workers' and 'lazy assholes.'" He doesn't say it with a hostile tone. When you lose everything you think you have, it changes the way you think. There is a glance towards Onyx Witch. "Really... when you get down to it, the notion of the self as divorced from environment is, uh..." He shrugs, as if to say 'who needs it.'

     "But, I'm probably barking up the wrong tree with that. Yeah?"
Tamamo     Tamamo isn't sure about the answer to Arthur's question, though she is suspicious that he's just poking things for the sake of it. Hm, maybe. She's leaving it well enough alone, thanks to her, in several important aspects, opposite temperament.

    In regards to watching that test on Onyx Witch, though, she's in agreement. "That was most peculiar, no? Or else, perhaps, is it normal for another world? It bore little similarity to the familiar system of magic circuits." Likewise, she's similarly equipped to perform some ANALYSIS, though a different tradition means approaching things from a different angle. She joins Arthur by making a few gestures, and speaking /extremely/ quickly in a very low tone in a language that doesn't translate but is recognizably Old, forming a misty-vague circle between her and Onyx Witch. It has a similar purpose, but focuses on the angle of Sympathetic Magic, trying to find the direction and degree of connections. She wants to know how well-integrated it is, how much the human body has accepted it as part of itself, and vice versa. This is a question of fine detail and fairly difficult.

    Using Sympathetic Magic to find a trail that tracks back to where something came from is the usual and usually easy part of the technique. Though she suspects there will be some difficulty in getting a clear trail in this case, she still looks for one.
William Pauwel "Ahahahaha, am I?" Will laughs with the sort of shameless innocence that can only be acquired from years of dealing with far too many people acting like he's making a total fool of himself. Half the time, he is! He wouldn't ever think to gainsay that! But learning how to deal with it was a necessary survival adaptation for his poor, openhearted psyche. "Sorry, that was thoughtless of me," he says-- not to Allison, but around Allison. His gaze is fixed on Onyx Witch when he apologizes, and comes across as nothing but sincere. "T'ain't polite of me to be going on an' makin' folks feel bad for it, s'pecially since we came here to do the exact opposite! We've all got stuff t' be thankful for, don't we?"

Will gives Arthur a nod, then. "Huh, makes sense, alright. I guess mine is 'Gun' then! Heh!" Will's Aspect isn't Gun. If it's anything, it's Nerd. Will is mostly just fucking around. Mostly.

But then... Then the test proceeds, and Will watches with rapt attention-- especially once the magical tracer reaches her core. His brow furrows thoughtfully; he may not be a magus, but he IS an engineer. A fried system is something that anyone who's ever worked with burnt out electronics can relate to, though seeing it light up in such a spectacular way IS somewhat of a more novel experience.

The magic is forced through. Pushed in past the burnt out pathways. Will watches carefully-- and then recoils in surprise as that /shape/ appears. "Spikes... Spikes and bristles... You said. Right?" His eyes narrow; where engineering in general is just what he does, this sort of thing in particular /is/ a specialty of his. "It almost looks..." Like it doesn't quite belong? Like it's bolted on, jury-rigged, inserted slapdash in a way that failure and burnout /would/ be an inevitable result. That's what happens when you force a machine to accept a part that only halfway works-- it'll function for a while, but without proper repairs and modification...

"It's like it came from somewhere... else?"
Strawberry Princess      Tamamo's analysis is, similarly, fruitful- Onyx Witch makes a face of mild distaste at suddenly being poked and prodded at by multiple people, but otherwise complies.

     She'll discover that it's poorly-integrated in some ways, exceedingly well in others: the strange matrix has "grown into" Onyx so organically as to be effectively inextricable from her, and her body has made no attempts to reject its fusion. Even so, it clearly isn't adapted to humans very well: it's burned through portions of her magical energy so thoroughly as to leave them lastingly depleted and 'scarred', while passing over others wholly untouched.

     Investigating the 'source' is less fruitful, but not for the reasons that one might expect. It has a clear and strong connection to some outside origin, that much she can discern, but the thread is broken and dark: whatever lies on the other side of that sympathetic umbilical is certainly long dead.
Strawberry Princess      "It's not... don't worry about it. You didn't hurt me. Nobody's hurt me, Onyx says to Will, frowning softly and folding her hands over her chest. "But yes. Like I said. Spikes and tendrils and things. Projecting outwards." She nods firmly.

     Strawberry, who's stayed raptly silent throughout the entire scan, leans down to place one hand on Will's shoulder from behind. She really is unnervingly tall up close like that. "Yeah," she says softly, answering his unspoken question. "That's- what it feels like. All of us. Different shape, maybe, but... something, like that."
Tamamo     Tamamo does not say 'that's interesting.' You never want to hear a doctor, or even a nurse, say those words.

    What she does do is offer to quietly swap notes with Arthur.
Strawberry Princess      Strawberry Princess taps her radio earpiece with one finger, muttering into it while leaning back against the wall. Questions, answers.

     <J-IC-Scene> Hoarse, Strawberry Princess says, "I never thought I'd... see that. On a screen."
     <J-IC-Scene> William Pauwel says, "It's... Whoever put it there... Didn't do the best job, did they?"
     <J-IC-Scene> Hoarse, Strawberry Princess says, "No, I- guess not."
     <J-IC-Scene> Doctor Strange says, "Where does your magic come from? Do you know?"
     <J-IC-Scene> Arthur Lowell says, "God, talk about /seeing/ it, /feeling/ it is... What /is/ that? Got the magicfeel of a miniature Endling or something."
     <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says simply, after Will, "Without familiarity."
     <J-IC-Scene> Hoarse, Strawberry Princess says, "'Come from' in what sense?"
     <J-IC-Scene> Doctor Strange says, "Some people make pacts with an outside entity for their power, some people are born with it. Some people train to harness it, some people inherit it... then there's favored souls, avatars, yada yada..."

     She takes her finger off of it, straightens up. "Yeah. I know- where it comes from," she says, loud enough to hear. "You have a dream. You know, while you're... asleep. And you 'see' a shape that's not- supposed to be there. Something cool, and bright, but it doesn't have colors, like your brain just... forgot to give it one."

     "If you touch that shape, 'let it in'- then you become a mahou. You, and a few other people- all the same dream. And at the same time, a special Endling appears."
Lilian Rook     Very distractedly, due to the process of running the magical apparatus, Allison responds to Arthur offhandedly "How else? Long hours and tedious work doesn't make one a productive go-getting now does it? That sort of thing means someone couldn't be bothered to find better. Crack open a book. Develop a skill. Requires less of a man to drag himself out of bed one morning at a time and complain his way through a shift that demands nothing from him you know." God she is *so dangerously* close to entering 'bootstraps' territory.

    "A little of both darling" she says to Strawberry Princess, though. "I'd gotten the impression, by the way that girl spoke of you and Miss Witch, you knew each other a little better, but of course I can tell she holds you in high esteem as well."

    She's far too distracted by finally interpreting the results to go on much more though. For the first time since getting here, people get to see what the woman looks like when she's genuinely engaged by something. It's an entirely different look than just being approving of Doctor Strange or polite about the woman who lives in her house now. Her attention is completely and fully occupied. Her hands maneuvering the displays are unnaturally fast and precise, managing the inputs and outputs at the same time as thoughtlessly as a pianist playing two different sets of notes.

    "My my my, well if that isn't just *fascinating*. No diffuse structure at all --not even integrated with or parallel to any part of the nervous system, chakra lines, or sacred geometry. An entire magical-- it's almost like a cancer. No, a symbiotic growth? No no, like a *mitochondria*. A foreign thing her body went and absorbed and turned into a little production plant for energy it wouldn't have access to otherwise. Subsisting off this foreign structure embedded right in the heart line, right there."

    "But it certainly looks as if an untrained young girl's body wasn't prepared to handle that. I see I see. It's slowly damaged itself in the process of metabolizing. These pathways didn't grow in, but rather, they've died off. No no, I suppose 'comatose' might be closer to the fact. I've never quite seen this sort of 'clinical death' of a spiritual organ before. Poked and prodded like that, you can see it start to metabolize again, but it won't pass the threshold to exit hibernation --the routes in and out are too scarred up. Burnt up and cauterized. I see. Now that *is* interesting."

    Eventually, she does stop talking to herself, saying sweetly to Onyx Witch. "Oh, you can step down now. There's all the gawking I have to do for now. I suspect your 'burning out' problem isn't a matter of age, or loss of talent, but a sort of self-inflicted trauma sustained by the mismatch of the apparatus that was embedded in you somehow. Now that's much more promising for the both of us. A completely alien structure to restore to its Original Template function, in balance with the human body. Just the model I'd like. And good heavens it'll be much easier to operate on an internal trauma than attempt to grow magical pathways from scratch, or implant them the stiff way. I'd love to ask you all about how you came across these powers, but I understand that the meagre answer I have is all that anybody knows."

    And yet she's hit record the instant Strawberry starts talking again. It's like a reflex. A subconscious, ninja-like instinct when some subvocal tone or microexpression indicates that someone is about to say something interesting for posterity.

    "Well, that may all sound very strange and frightening, but I assure you, Miss Witch, this is a positive-looking prognosis from our point of view here at the institute. Could I ask for your continued cooperation? I'd like to begin an experimental rehabilitation regimen by, oh, let's say the week after next. Of course, I'll arrange a living space for you nearby, and whatever sundry requests you would like."
William Pauwel "Spikes... and tendrils. Alright. Um." Will's mind is whirling a million miles a minute. Magicless though he may be, he can understand exotic energy systems like few others in the multiverese could ever hope to match. That sort of growth, placed into a person's heart-- how long was it in there again? Doesn't matter. Did it grow while it was in there? Do these magical girls grow more powerful with age...?

His train of thought is brought back into the station by Strawberry's touch. Will jolts, whipping his head around in surprise. "I... I see. Something... Something like that, huh?" His voice drops to a hushed whisper, speaking into his earpiece as much as he is to Strawberry directly. He tries to mask the uncertainty and unease that's crept into his voice-- that kind of thing, it isn't good to expose a laid-up patient to. "Do... Do magical girls always start out with as much power as they'll always have? It's... It looks almost like a burnt out circuit. Too much power draw on wires that ain't able to keep up."

He shakes his head. Something feels like it's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't quite...
Lilian Rook     Waving off further commentary, Allison finds time to ever so charmingly ask Strange "Well, is that so? So, might I ask, how did you come across your Doctorate? What is it that got you all the way across the other end of the globe and back, training under what I assume is a notoriously strict Nepalese traditional doctrine? No offense meant of course, but you have that sense of nouveau riche about you. You're the first generation in your family to breach into the circle, yes?"

    "So, what is that if not hard work?"

    Arthur is not told to properly fuck off. He clearly has some kind of experience putting metaphorical car battery clamps on magical girls. It's a useful part of the test, as is comparing and contrasting to Tamamo's model. Allison is only slightly reluctant to allow the powerful professionals to make use of the equipment; it's an examination room, not her personal lab or particle accelerator or evil clone vat or whatever she has.

    "Would you mind if I troubled you to ask for a personal line, Miss Princess? I'd like you to consult, if at all possible. You'll be compensated for your time, of course. I'll put you through to the older daughter."

    'The daughter'. 'That girl'. 'Older one'. It's a persisting pattern. Lilian hadn't ever called her 'mother' either.
Doctor Strange      "Money," says Strange with disdain, in response to Allison. He's lifted his scarred index finger as if rattling off items on a list. Number two--'what got you across the other end of the globe...' "Money," says Strange, lifting up the next finger. '...And back?' "And sorcery. Granted, yes--the training to get there was hell, but if I hadn't failed..." upwards? No. "...sideways, in just the right way, I'd have never broken the circle. Really, you should've seen the way I was driving that night. On a phone and a laptop, at night, in the rain. I might have been safer deep frying shrimp in the back seat."

     Upon hearing Strawberry Princess's account, Strange shares a knowing look with Allison, then Tamamo. His deadpan expression is, as usual, hard to read. He slowly lifts a hand to his goatee and runs his fingers across it. "Yeah," he concludes. "That tracks." There is a nod towards the screen.

     Okay. It's probably something outside, that can only reach them through dreams. "Just a sec." Strange quietly leaves the room and steps outside. Standing beside Lilian, he nods.

     "Hey," he says, as if he's about to offer some sage advice or perhaps begin some meaningful conversation. Instead, he continues, "Check this out." He disappears in a flash of green.

     Really, he's gone a few hours back in time, and displaced himself back to the Sanctum. This, he's done to give himself some time to peer into eventualities. He's looking through possible timelines.

     He returns in exactly the same instant, then cuts a hole in reality to leave. Standing inside the Sanctum, looking out from the other side of the portal, he makes double finger-guns at Lilian. The portal closes.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur's quite focused on the task at hand, but when Allison mentions cracking open a book, his insightful commentary on the topic of wage work or, like, something something class struggle or whatever, just comes down to him quietly, but purposefully, whispering, "Books are for nerrrrrrds."

    But he resumes what he was doing. He listens to the account of how this works. "This is part of an external..." He twists his face up. "This is like burned-in Heir Apparence. Never seen it like this before." He scratches at his nose. "There's gotta be an outside ritual about this." He hasn't before had any opportunity to examine the raw mahou system. "But if it's /still alive/ then this is gonna be okay. Just gotta... keep the wheel turning, I guess? Huh... But if it were possible, wouldn't some of the other magical girls figured out how to enlighten on their own? Or--" He squints. Is that something that could be applied elsewhere?

    No, this doesn't have the feeling of that. Not a magical feeling, either. A gut feeling.

    But he doesn't wanna add any harsh bleakness to this situation. Onyx Witch is in a good place. "Alright, well, that's weird, but it's lookin' good." He says. There's a couple quick nods. "Might wind up needing more artifact stuff to amp up the natural stuff, though, so if you need it, come see me. I'll get you hooked up with the Punchcard Alchemy you need, make some good artifacts." He seems eager to supply some exotic nonsense object or another for her.

    Strange uses Time Portals and Arthur immediately widens and grumps his face to double intensity, but laughs for just a second at the long-belated punchline.
Strawberry Princess      Onyx immediately steps down off the magical analyzer as soon as she's given permission to, brushing herself off with her hands as if cleansing the emotional grime of so many peering eyes. At the mention of it being 'easier' to 'operate' on whatever it is she has, she perks up, visibly engaged with the technical analysis even though she barely understands it.

     'A positive-looking prognosis' gets her to flinch away, as if it's actually painful to believe. The idea of being 'rehabilitated'- the week after next- gives her a visible shudder of emotion, her breath catching in her chest. "I... that'd be-"

     She tilts her head back, ostensibly to look up into Allison Rook's eyes, but really to keep the water brimming in her eyes from overflowing her eyelashes. Her gaze drifts to the side, across the assembled Elites- lingering, one by one, on those who were there at Tallahassee.

     "Yes. I'll do it. Thank you, doctor." Her hands are balled up with tension. She keeps her voice almost level, but for a moment it sounds painfully hoarse.


     Strawberry immediately hands Allison her phone number- not on a business card, but on a torn-off piece of index paper. "Absolutely. Anything I can... you know, do to help. I'd love to." She gives just an almost-imperceptible grimace at the phrasing of 'the older daughter', but nods. Her eyes flick out to the doorway where Lilian lingers.

     William services to distract her, of course. He's good for that. "Maybe- about the same amount of power," Strawberry says, after a moment's hesitation. "Hard to say. You're almost as 'powerful' at the beginning as at... well, the end. But you learn to use it better. More intuitive, more creative. And maybe a little stronger, but... It's hard to sort out which is which."