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Lilian Rook     The 'Hojo Urban Center', in the style that there are essentially no longer things named 'cities', 'provinces', or 'wards', is one fairly unlike those encountered so far, with any available data on them. Considering there is no actual city or urban entity named Hojo on modern calendars, and it isn't located anywhere that there was previously a city built at, it takes a little bit of research to figure it out.

    Considerably smaller than the Yamato Urban Center built on the half of Tokyo still standing, the area is surrounded by roughly similar walls of an extremely steep character, practically slabs of armour spaced by numerous grounded buttresses and going far too high to climb over. A similar sense of a tingling, invisible boundary surrounds it and its one entrance, albeit a sort of blastproof portcullis more than anything. The territory around it for a few miles is relatively normal, but inside the walls is a little strange.

    Most of the consistently postmodern architecture is nowhere to be seen, and the usual presence of ubiquitous civil surveillance is significantly diminished. Large amounts of the area are dedicated to seemingly useless natural formations, involving man made creeks, carefully cultivated parks that have no roads through them, and oddly spaced and organized roads. There aren't many proper city blocks, with the pattern of buildings seeming almost random, except the fact they repeat in radial symmetry from a geometric center, dedicated to a towering seven storey mansion, possibly better described as a castle.

    The state of the infrastructure itself is oddly pseudo-archaic, where most buildings around the outer third are predominantly made of wood and tile in an oddly traditional style, quick to build, utilizing chimney stacks, old power poles, and only sparsely surrounded by solar panels and cameras. The middle third is more modern, but largely dominated by poured white concrete, silvery steel bar, and small, shuttered windows, in a spartanly fabricated style, with the same sort of shingled roofs, where the roads are better connected, if still strangely geometric, and steam stacks and buried lines are more common. The inner third is absurdly lavish, mostly dedicated to sub-buildings of the mansion-castle in a more lovingly constructed style. There is barely a sight of anything like police in the outer area, but the middle is strictly patrolled by armed officers in JSDF-inspired attire. Large, seemingly decorative structures poke out from the skyline seemingly without rhyme or reason, like small pagodas and large stone statues, and roadside shrines and tall banners are at practically every intersection, the banners bearing a mark of three grey triangles on a white field.

    It's like it was only allowed any modern signs of industrial efficiency by the most begrudging hand possible, and laid out by some inscrutably fussy architect with no understandable aim. Despite the modern equipment scattered around, and just enough industry to support its size, certainly no more than fifty thousand, it looks very much like, well, a castle town.
Lilian Rook     You're not here to go exploring. There's maybe an hour to poke about, most of the civilians keeping to themselves and not engaging where not directly asked, generally keeping their heads down and staying out of the way. There is a scheduled meeting at a plaza around a whole ring of tiered jizo statues there for no apparent reason. The white tiled grounds are easily large enough to hold the crowd of roughly a hundred people waiting there, a large number of them on the elderly side, mixed with various adults looking vaguely resigned, and oddly a number of children who hover near nobody in particular. All of them are dressed for cold weather in exceedingly basic clothes, have their own bags, and keep completely silent, with a couple of small, outdated cross country vehicles loaded with more bags and tarped down.

    There is one additional man with them, standing obviously apart. Some sort of functional, if one wishes to estimate by the formal garb, inexplicable hat, and bulky electronic device in his hands, roughly resembling the dimensions of a book, with the space of a page being transparent and covered in data. He doesn't wave anyone over, but waits to be approached. Upon being greeted *first*, he goes on to offer a cursory but 'deep enough' bodily inclination, then says "You are the outsiders here to handle the 2081 Hojo clan procession to Mount Fuji, correct?" It's not really a question. "You have a journey of a hundred and fifty kilometers ahead of you. I hope that you have prepared adequately. Our usual means of ensuring safe passage to the foot of the Fuji neutral territory is 'indisposed' this year, due to circumstances outside the lord's control. In other words, we require you to perform all the necessary duties of escorting these hundred people to their destination, without deviation, and without heads missing at the end."

    He goes on to produce both a paper and digital map, indicating Hojo to be at the very edge of the Kanto region, with a somewhat winding road (that isn't a highway and never was) going around a lot of hashed territory, with destination points scattered all over the mountain area, some very high up. The people in the procession appear to have their own paper copies. "It isn't strictly necessary that you see every group to each and every destination, but we require that you ensure that each group is able to reach their apportioned settlement in a timely and safe fashion. If there are less than one hundred heads delivered to their various destined points, there will be undesirable consequences. Do you understand?"
Raphael Cousteau     Is this policework? That's an incredibly complicated question.
AUTHORITY: It is not. This is a police escort. Absolutely within normal duties.
    Well, that's settled, then. Thanks, Authority. Inspector Raphael Cousteau's got his green blazer over one shoulder, held up with a few fingers in one hand. His gun's holstered on his other hip. And, with that godawful sympathetic eyebrow and shit-eating grin, he looks over the map, and then stares blankly into space for a minute.
RHETORIC: Hold up. Make him explain what that 'indisposed' means.
EMPATHY: If he was willing to talk about it outright, he would. This is a touchy matter, and it won't make things better to ask.
    The inspector rubs his chin thoughtfully with a thumb, before finally clicking his tongue in that annoying sense that nobody has ever liked, finally managing to speak up.
"Alright, so what kind of problems can we expect to see along the way? Bandits? Wild beasts? Bandits who are also wild beasts? Rogue capitalists?" He settles on, using his free hand to make a fingergun and shoot some hypothetical wild beast capitalist. The blazer is swung around and donned. "After all, this must be pretty serious business, if you're worried not everyone will make it."
Roxas Roxas is present, and he looks... /unsettled/, by his standards. He'd arrived early enough -- not alone -- to have a look around, and nothing about what he sees pleases him. He muttered something to his PARTY MEMBER about everything about this place being creepy, before falling back into silence. The modernity of the rest of Lilian's world was a great deal more comforting to him than this obvious... /Japan-ness/.

He only ends up approaching the Obvious Official because he Knows That Look. Too many people in Organization XIII wear it for him to not know somebody who is "waiting but not really friendly to who they're waiting for", at least in terms of outward demeanor.

For the most part, he nods along with the explanation. It's probably not reassuring on his end-- he looks like a cultist, but this /is/ his field gear, after all. It's only the conclusion that really draws him out of his shell a little.

"Er..." He begins, with a partly raised hand, "Is this some kind of... ritual magic? Is that why it's one hundred and any number missing is a problem? I mean, you never want to have people go missing in general, but all of this feels kind of specific."

Also this is a Japan, so he's predisposed to assume shenanigans.
Arthur Lowell     ARTHUR LOWELL is here. The minute he sees this place, he wants to figure out its deal. The seemingly random layout of decorative features and pieces of nature strikes him as intensely deliberate -- but why? Perhaps some geomancy? Is this castle town perhaps making use of complex fung shui? Arthur won't have time to find out.

    Arthur's grin is wide when he addresses the man bearing the inexplicable electronics and the more inexplicable hat. "Yeah dawg! Here 'bout that SAFETY. I got that ESCORT QUEST kinda POWER." A brief flex. Actually, a couple. The only reason he isn't barraging this man's hand with greetings is that he wants to not fuck up his electronics. "Lay down those OBJECTIVES, I'mma get those DUTIES DONE." He does pounds his fist against his chest.

    He /thinks/ he could try something like making a Gate setup here. But he has the feeling that there's more to all of this than just getting people from point A to point B; hazards, both antegent and cultural, might need more complex navigation than a portal can provide. "Motherfucker, I ain't 'bout to let even ONE HEAD go and NOT MAKE IT if I can help it!" He points up. "I'm gonna ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT THIS THING!" There is, of course, no actual assurance that this is achievable, but it's the goal Arthur starts with in problems like this.
Xion The first thing Xion notices about the whole situation is the somberness. People stand apart - children without parents, people milling about as singular beings. The architecture is somber too, resistant to what she had come to expect as modern and 'normal' in Lilian's world.

Then again, it IS Japan. "You know, Roxas..." Xion comments quietly - her entire stance had skewed quiet, thoughtful, and spaced in sympathetic response to the populace.

"At least it's not OUR Japan. I mean, it's still probably full of monsters and sadness, but --"

Roxas approaches the Waiting Authority. Xion steps back. She doesn't want to compare any place to HER Japan in earshot of an authority. Arthur's extreme (as usual!) level of confidence in his questing ability is buoying, but Xion's curiousity remains - and so she reaches out to 'feel' the pulse and desire of the people around her. Surely this is ALL one big somber misunderstanding. Or a ritual! Surely.
Tomoe Once again Tomoe had picked up a job over in what was and perhaps still is Japan on Lilian's world. The Jojo Urban Center is quite different from the last one she'd seen any part of. Still, the man-made formations were at least interesting to look at but she had to wonder about it. Space that was reclaimed tended to be put to some use. Housing, production, commerce and the like. Still, it's quite the sight as she moves on taking note of the next region past the landscape and mansion it seems a bit more lived-in to her.

She would have time to explore later if she's allowed to do so.

She's here to work and that's what she's going to do, she will fall in with the man as she walks up to him.

"That's correct sir, we're here for the job."

Knowing this would be a bit of a trek, she had stocked up on supplies and seemed confident about it.

"I understand."

This was going to be quite the job she thinks as she takes note of the map,"

This was seeming to be pretty damn serious but then again they were being hired to make sure these people made it to their destinations alive.

"I have no doubt there would be if we botch this."

Thankfully the rest of the team seems pretty good from the looks of it, She'll fall in with Arthur nodding to him. Also she takes note of Xion and Roxas. It had been a while but they were a welcome sight to the Salamander.
Tamamo     Tamamo no Mae spends all of her time before the meeting walking about while trying to figure out the same feng shui Arthur had wondered at, because of course she does. This is well within her wheelhouse, though an hour may not be enough to get a feel for the place without an aerial view, and it would be rude to climb the buildings. Any *active* magic flowing through recognizable channels she'll pick up rather quickly, but a city, even a smallish one by some standards, is more than she can map out in an hour, this is so. Especially if she takes any opportunity to observe the people as well as the strangely placed 'decorations.'

    Nothing, in her experience, is ever truly accidental. Even dice are rolled with purpose. If the designers were fools, they shouldn't have survived so well. If the city is short resources, they shouldn't have placed more shrines and pagodas than needed. This place is either shortly doomed, or hiding secrets, and the secret ways of ingenious humans ignite her interest. It's unfortunate when few walk the streets apart from soldiers, but she'll find some who will speak to her shortly, she's sure.

    Whatever the result of that, she joins the others at the appointed time, arriving exactly on schedule. As if to stand in contradiction of Winter chills (and no less Spring's), and in further contradiction to somber moods, she is both warm and bright, and only *mostly* figuratively so. She offers the apparent official a dignified greeting, listens to his circumstances, but doesn't offer any additional questions after others give theirs. Instead, she spies several familiar faces some unfamiliar, many more local and unfamiliar, and reaches deep within her voluminous sleeves. Out she pulls a cloth bag that should probably not have fit inside it, and out of that she pulls some tiny bags of colored paper and ribbons.

    She proceeds to distribute her homemade and hand-packaged cookies to a number of the waiting children, assuming they'll accept her gifts, and without regard to whether they're willing to answer any questions, though she keeps them simple. "Are you among the procession?" "Are you with others here?" and otherwise getting a feel for their general place in this. She doesn't directly ask if their parents are around here or where they're going, but gets very close to it.

    After getting through some of the locals, she greets Roxas with a smile and his own bag of semi-sweet confections, as if he were naturally included in the group of recipients. If she could have known he would be here, then that's likely true. There's no explanation as to why, and they've only spoken maybe the once. She overhears Xion somewhere around this point, remarking, "Oh, are you familiar with this land, then? I do wonder if they are related to the elder or the younger of the Hojo clans. I never did see the Go-Hojo, during my time."

    The sugar cookies are well made, though they're tasty through practice, and not any kind of divine skill.
Lilian Rook     Roxas looking like a cultist . . . doesn't really seem to be a problem? That might just be a *type* you get from abroad, with such an indiscriminate call. At the first sight of someone who seems to sort of get the idea of *something* going on, the official remarks "That's a good guess, but no. It is important that one hundred leave the Hojo, but the division of delivery is negotiated with the individual owners of settled areas on the mountain to fall within their maximum capacity and meet with their needs. Delivering something other than what you've promised is highly offensive."

    He does, however, scoff at the very idea of bandits from Raphael, in that excessively polite significant cough sort of way. "You should encounter few issues, so long as you stick to the prescribed route and stay clear of any of the marked areas. The safest route will take three days days by foot, so I urge you to remain vigilant despite that. I would be incredibly surprised to hear of *banditry* along the way, neither do I see what this has to do with capitalism. The route is well warded, and so the terrain itself should pose no significant physical or psychological hazard, but you may be assailed by the more mobile and less intelligent strains of antegent that lurk these kinds of areas, close to Urban Centers, main travel routes, and so on. Nothing beyond Yajuu or Youkai class, most likely, if you are so unfortunate to cross them."

    The desire of the people around the city, though. 'Don't get involved'. 'I'm glad it's not me'. 'All that overtime paid off'. Those in the group are a different bent. 'I hope the children at least go to a monastery'. 'Maybe I'll see my wife, if she's still there'. 'I knew this was coming. I don't have any connections. My boss hates me. My social credit is trash. This is my own fault'. 'I just hope nothing happens on the road'. 'Three days of walking; I hope my hip holds out'. 'What possible use can I be when I get there?'. 'I hope it won't be too hard'. 'I don't think I'd really mind falling off a cliff before getting there, honestly'.

    For Tamamo's short walk around, though she doesn't have the time to feel out even a majority of the pattern, it becomes abundantly apparent within half an hour that the nonsensical placement is very, very deliberate. Major installations of iconography have been built on leyline points and repeatedly consecrated, construction follows several recognizable auspicious patterns, regarding the flow of good and bad energy, the streets are geometrically designed to create a mostly symmetrical arrangement like a gigantic warding circle around the castle, and even the gardens and parks are mostly populated by plants of species classically regarded as having properties that repel evil or purify grounds, and banners and iconography are set up with unbroken strings of characters typically found on ofuda.
Lilian Rook     It's very much unlike the Eastern Seaboard Urban Center on the British Isle; this is not the collective effort of many professional mages pooled together, but one group's very large scale work, probably passed through a number of onmyo and monks of a similar persuasion, focused heavily on protection, luck, health, victory, longevity, and graces of the gods, given that things to do with repelling ghosts or evil spirits would probably be pretty useless. The city itself self-sufficiently provides its own protection, drawing from the land and backed up by the arms privately produced by one group.

    Kids are pretty much entirely willing to smuggle cookies into their bags without a second thought. All of them confirm that they're leaving, none of them are with any kind of guardian, though many are friends, and from the same public institutions; mostly schools and religious groups that would be an archaic social safety net as opposed to the more modern concept of an orphanage tied to a social security system. Asking about the Hojo clans pretty much immediately confirms things for her as well.

    A couple of elder folks tell her without reservation that this Urban Center was created and is owned by the later Hojo clan said to have fallen by the Edo period, but clearly secretly hadn't. Further questioning tells her that, in fact, all of the Urban Centers except Yamato are similar fiefdoms established by other daimyo clans, which she obviously has the historical knowledge to know that all of them were highly active during the Sengoku period, and most shouldn't exist anymore.

    "I trust that takes care of everything." The official wearing the grey triangle icon says. "You'll find a roll of names provided in your information, and two monasteries, three communes, and our friends at the ASIS at the highest altitude. The vehicles should pass no further than the communes at the lowest level, and we do expect them back. As long as the procession is completed in less than four days, your payment, and the lord's personal seal, will be granted immediately. For every head less than one hundred, there will be a deduction."
Raphael Cousteau     There is a single moment, before Raphael coughs as well. "Yes, well. I may have *missed* the briefing on this. Antegents. Yes."
ENCYCLOPEDIA: Heyy, so Antegents are basically the angry evil monsters that are the big problem in this world!
AUTHORITY: He is SCOLDING YOU! Show him you're boss! Don't just let him scoff! Why are you being so weak?

But he's distracted, meanwhile, as the various interests and desires of the local people start to filter in. His eyes close, and he bites at his knuckle a little. There's a harder squint.
EMPATHY: It seems like the people on this procession aren't particularly -wanting- to go. They're worried, but in a resigned, sad way.
LOGIC: We are largely less here to protect these people than to be their jailors.
AUTHORITY: I *told* you it was policework. You're transferring prisoners. All is well. Show them you are the law!

Still, this probably requires some sort of sorting out on the sort of radio frequencies where these things are dealt with. He doesn't have to interrupt the procession to do that. Being able to consult with knowledgable people outside your own head, but without anyone else hearing, has been remarkably useful for the Inspector.
    "Well! That settles that, I think. Guess we're *protecting* for a few days." Anyone with a non-washout-cop aura would have a great pinging smile there. As it is, Raphael comes off with that sad, awkward almost-charm when he does it.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Heyyy. Buy some booze before you go. Wouldn't wanna run out.
Roxas Roxas gives Xion a little look as she starts making a direct comparison. It's not exactly /chastizing/ exactly, but it is a 'you might wanna think about that' look. He does, however, wave her forward a little. There's no need to be shy or withdrawn! Emotionally suggests the relatively withdrawn one.

He blinks when Tamamo gets to him and passes a care package full of sweets along. A sunny smile soon follows, as does a, "Thank you! You're... one of Lilian's friends, right? We're... sort of familiar. Japan on our home world is kind of a mess. A quarantine zone, if that makes sense. People don't go there if they can help it."

His expression quickly turns rather darker, though, when his question seems to go unanswered. Roxas looks at the official suspiciously, wondering if it was an intentional. The suspicion is strong enough that he doesn't voice it-- if it's something like that, he'd rather ferret the truth out along the way.

There's bound to be rumors to be discussed among the people they're escorting, and somewhere in the mess there's bound to be truth in the rumors.

Everyone already seems to be speculating on the matter on the radio, so...

He says, "I guess all of that makes enough sense. Three days, though..."

He says nothing more to the official, pocketing his documentation and rifling around in the care package Tamamo just gave him. Roxas passes a cookie to Xion before starting in on one himself, raising the hand holding the -- loosely held shut -- package, "Okay! Has anybody here done anything like this before? Maybe some hobby survival training, some... camping? Do they do that here? That's too dangerous, isn't it? Well, if you've done anything like it, let us know now!"
Xion Xion understands precious few emotions. The only one that she has the full scope of, and has fully internalized, is 'Hate'. But this situation is one that Xion has some understanding born of desperate struggle, an internalized discourse that the entirety of 'her' had come to a unanimous conclusion about:

Existance, and life, is preferrable over all alternatives. Giving up on 'being' to 'not be' is something that Xion cannot abide. And so, like a rookie detective seeing her first grisly murder, Xion's eyes pop open and her expression turns to horror. She's right about to storm up to the cliff-jumper when she's intercepted by the good fortune - and good baking - of one enlightened scholar of fate.

She is very fateful, and thus, everything she does is fated. Xion bites into a cookie right then and there and her expression rapidly shifts back to cheerful enjoyment of baked goods. And so her attention is for the moment on Tamamo.

"Are we familiar...? Well, yes and no. Where we're from, Japan is a very bad place. It's like a spiritual mire, and you can't get in through the pathways and corridors we usually use. You can *go* there, like, on a boat or plane, but even then just being there is dangerous. Monsters don't just walk the streets there -"

Xion leans forward (and up on the toes of her shoes, since she is a good deal shorter than Tamamo). Her tone becomes quiet, a (respectful) whisper. "-rumor says that monsters *run* the place. For people like us, it's the absolute worst place to spend any sort of time."

She drops back to her heels and rocks back and forth, taking another few mincing bites of cookies. "But hey! There's parks here, and the city has such an interesting layout! Much better than eternal darkness and monsters."

Her expression drops. "Except, you know, all the monsters." Brightening. "But there's no monsters *here*-here! So that's good."
Tomoe Tomoe does take note of how kind Tamamo is to the children with the cookies she'll pass out to them regardless if they answer her questions or not. The idea of bandits being a thing seems to not be considered likely from the reaction that Raphael gets. The route sounds well used and warded. It is possible a ward might have broken down somehow.

If that is the case? That should not be an issue given the sorts of people they have along. She looks over the people who are forming up for this and does seem concerned as she tries to get a feel for the people here. She will likely ask questions when they make cap at some point, for now, she's focused on the objectives the listing of who is going where she does internally feel a sense of dread as she gets some input from the team on the comm. She knows it's not her world and they have a difficult living situation. Focus on the job ask questions and investigate later, is what Tomoe comes to.

"I get the terms, fair enough on those. If there is nothing else we should set out as soon as possible."

She's had a bit of a damper put on her spirits, with the new information on why the people are heading out.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur Lowell is full of Hero Opinions about things like separation of communities, treatment of individuals as statistics, forced relocation, and the horrible effect of reduced social safety nets on the functionality and achievement of society as a whole. Not the time or the place though! Instead it's the time and place for preserving heads! And also, unspoken: The time and place for preserving hearts! The situation is clearly not just one that threatens their bodily safety, it's one that puts at risk their morale, their unity, and their general willingness to put up with shit instead of fucking off and being willing to mess up the entirety of this mostly-functional society.

    "ALRIGHT!" Arthur says, eagerly. "Let's get this LOCKED, STOCKED, and ready to ROCK. FIRST THING'S FIRST, though!" What's the best approach? /Caring/, dude. That's the key. He decides to stop at each and every member of this procession of a hundred. It's looking like they're about to be on the road, so he makes sure to stop by each one as they begin their motion. He's going to ask their names, their jobs, their passions, and he's gonna be checking each one to see, specifically, what their /dream/ is. When they get to where they're getting, is there something they want to do there? Someone they wanna meet, a particular work they can do, an achievement they're hoping for?

    Focus on the mood. Don't just keep their heads safe, keep their hearts safe. He'll be obnoxious as usual, of course, harassing their hands and their ears in equal measure, but in a way that's far more caring-too-much than it is caring-too-little.
Tamamo     "It is so," Tamamo tells Roxas, and, "I am Tamamo no Mae, one familiar with a Japan-that-was." That's probably not the clearest sort of introduction, but it's at least a reference to 'some Japan that isn't this one.' "We did first see each other during that trip to young Lilian's school, yes? Though we had little occasion to speak, I do recall, and Lilian has since spoken of..." She tilts her head, remembering, only to say, "Ah, but we have some present matters to address, and a long journey ahead, if another speaks truly."

    But she doesn't move on before listening to both him and Xion speak of their Japan. "Oh my," she says, in that exact tone of response to Xion's whisper of one hearing something horribly scandalous and equally intriguing. "I would be quite interested in seeing how these troubles compare, I should think, though I might be rather cross if there are yet further creatures as entirely foreign as those haunting the ruins without." She does not sound as if she approves of Antegents or, perhaps, does not approve of them being utterly alien.

    Then the official has her attention, if momentarily. "'A deduction,' is it?" Tamamo narrows her eyes, but she's still smiling. It's just a subtly different sort of polite mockery, that kind of precise control of expression that allows for pushing right up to the edge of allowable behavior while still communicating a maximum of information in a glance that can come only from intimate familiarity with a well-structured and well-understood culture. It's not necessary to indicate what part of the phrase strikes her as worthy of ridicule. This exercise is left to the student.

    She's not objecting to any matter, at least openly. The trek must begin, as there is no preferable alternative, and still too much left to uncover. The matters of the local geomancy are understood 'enough,' for now. She doesn't mention anything about why they should be called in at all if the route is safe, or who the usual protector should be. There is every possibility that Raphael has the right of it, at least in that respect of a transfer of custody, but that is 'not nearly enough' of an answer.

    Tamamo approves of Arthur's chosen focus, both tacitly and finding occasion to sneak him a handful of... "...good luck charms. Would you see that you find those most in need of a hand in aid, at such time as their need is greatest?" Thus, she leaves the timing to him and his observations. While her baked goods are the product of careful practice, these paper slips are portable divine intervention, and will ensure dramatically good health and fair fortunes along the journey, and a few days besides.

    She does not go again to speak to every human here, but instead takes the first chance to find a road shrine, or any equivalent. If the route is warded, then there must be something. The Go-Hojo ask the gods for protection. Tamamo no Mae, a goddess, can ask those same spirits, the ones drawn to protect the travelers and kept by local worship, what they have seen along these same routes. If she touches a shrine, looks into its Fate, and doesn't find a spirit on which to call, that would tell her quite a few things, too.
Lilian Rook     Roxas finds out that almost nobody here has the slightest knowledge of camping. It's only the very old people who are familiar with the idea, and from at least fifty years ago at best. Since they're also the old ones, that means nobody here can hike for shit, and there's really a limited number of people that two big off road vans can take, even cramming people on the back (probably children, being small and slow walkers). Yet they're basically going to be expected to cover roughly fifty kilometers a day. Presumably, someone else handled waypoint arrangements in years past.

    Arthur, by only slight contrast, is mostly left with universal bafflement. He gets their names (which are all Japanese obviously), and the fact that obviously none of them have jobs *now*, but only a minority really had jobs previously. The older folks who deign to speak to him instead of be sullenly quiet say they've spent decades in things like hydroponics, menial manufacturing jobs, construction, groundskeeping, and other tedious and middle-rung but physically active careers. Only some of the regular adults have had careers, and most not for very long, being unable to sustain overly long hours for some reason or another, or being cut by urban oversight for substandard performance. Nobody with a research, technology, religious, or magic-related former career is present.

    Only the kids have a 'dream' for him. The rest don't really seem to get it. A few people say they're leaving because of a large gratuity would be going to their families or immediate close ones, either eliminating social credit debt or hoping for some kind of slightly elevated social station, which really isn't a dream beyond a vague 'hoping my kids do better' than I did. The children mostly have vaguely pedestrian ideas of 'being like dad' or 'being a big boss' but a few have wildly unachievable ones like becoming a samurai or a pop star or GDF hero. Some of them are *slightly* optimistic about where they're going, anticipating that there might be more room to do things that aren't city upkeep jobs, amongst mostly small, Enlightened-heavy societies, many having mild aspirations of attaining some kind of mystical ability. That seems to be the only attractive aspect of Mt. Fuji; a reputation as a spiritual center.

    The official still currently standing around through all this incomprehensible rigamarole adopts a highly strained expression with Tamamo immediately. It is immediately identifiable as belonging to someone who quite definitely has the right of rank to pull here, but doesn't dare attempt it with the particular person in his presence. "Well, good day to you. I suggest you get moving, while you still have the most daylight remaining."
Raphael Cousteau     Raphael Cousteau, for his part, is lost in thought. This mostly translates outwardly to him sort of standing there rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
RHETORIC: So, we're going to overthrow this entire broken system and give power back to the people, right?
EMPATHY: While this does seem bad, maybe it's better than being eaten by horrible monsters. Or whatever.
LOGIC: How are people with injuries supposed to make it a hundred and fifty kilometers?
Luckily, he's at least aware enough to walk with everyone else, so don't worry about him keeping up. In fact, people might find that he's infuriating to keep up -with-. Fifty kilometers at a decent jog seems well within his wheelhouse, as it turns out. He's also not terribly talkative, mostly because he's caught in internal monologue.
AUTHORITY: How do we get that social credit point back for asking questions? I DEMAND that point back! I won't tolerate it!
c,LOGIC:) It was a hypothetical point. It wasn't real. We didn't really lose anything.
AUTHORITY: I want my *hypothetical* point back!
> Okay. The main issue here is, uh, we're taking these people to a *bad* place. That is, worse than where they are, right? That's..
[:][:.]
> Right, that's, uh, a -bad- thing, but..uhhhh....

There is an outward pause. He freezes up, caught in what is now a whirling dervish of opinionated skills.
RHETORIC: So, we take /all/ of them, we form a worker's party, and we overthrow this government!
EMPATHY: These people are *suffering*, but they'll suffer *more* if we cast them into the wilds! They won't have jobs here either!
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: We are *way* too sober to be making important decisions about other people's lives! And there's not nearly enough amphetamine or nicotine! You're being downright *disgraceful* to the people depending on you. Take a bunch of drugs, right now! It's the *responsible* thing to do!
ENCYCLOPEDIA: HEY. HEY. GUYS. LISTEN TO ME, RIGHT NOW.

...

ENCYCLOPEDIA: I just remembered that Mt. Fuji is a *really big mountain*. Isn't that cool?

Suffice to say, he will not be offering anything useful to the party for the time being.
Roxas "Oh, uh-- sorry, my name is Roxas." Roxas introduces himself to Tamamo no Mae, sheepishly. He apparently thought they'd already met more formally-- or it just slipped his mind during all the excitement.

As for the problems that face them right now... Roxas scratches his head, trying to come up with a solution. After a few moments of thinking, he snaps his fingers together. He says, "Okay... okay... everybody who has problems moving on foot, please come over HERE..."

He rifles around in his pockets and produces a sign that looks like it belongs at an airport gate. The kind that people sort themselves at before boarding a plane. This absolutely couldn't possibly have fit in his pocket, but apparently it does.

"Injured to the right--" He points, "and anybody under the age of ten to the left!"

Assuming his instructions are followed, Roxas divides up the elderly and immobile and kids too young to reasonably go on foot, and portions them into the vans.

"Arthur! Can you be the primary escort for the vans? They'll get where they're going the quickest, and then we can shuffle things around. Plus, you can just..." He makes a ZWOOP noise, "if we really need you. Umm... but we need somebody else..."

"You!" Roxas points at Raphael, "You need to drive one of the vans. Xion and I don't have a driver's license."

He is completely oblivious to what an awful idea this is, or that Raphael is freaking out over not having enough illicit substances to work with.

"The rest of us are going it on foot, for now anyway. That makes sense, right?"
Xion BEFORE LEAVING:

Tamamo is scandalized by Xion's tales of Double Darkness Japan. "I know, right? Well, I don't know if it's local problems or outside problems, but..."

"It's a bad way. Thanks for the cookie! I was starting to feel a little 'emotional'."

She says 'emotional' like it's either a state not unlike a status effect and with the same general cant and tone of 'a case of the vapors'.

Roxas apologizes and introduces himself, cueing Xion to chime in herself. "And I'm Xion!" Pronounced 'Shion' Because when used in Roxas' name, it's pronounced Rocks-azz, but used in Xion's name, it's shee-on, and when used in THE MASTER KEYBLADE we DON'T TALK ABOUT IT.

TRAVEL PREP, ft. The Worst Discord Chat:

Xion has a lot of time on her hands in a fifty kilometer walk.

This is because it is a fifty kilometer *walk* and not a fifty kilometer dead sprint while shouting about light dark heart dark friendship light keyblade! And, of course, mispronouncing the letter X in new and unique ways.

Listening in and expanding her mental awareness to 'test the waters' gets her listening in on a deafening discourse at the head of the pack - Raphael Cousteau's internal dialogue. Drawn like moth to LAMP, she has some difficulty keeping up with Raphael's mind, but less difficulty keeping up with him physically. Which gives her plenty of time to try listening in. And listen. And listen. More and more shock, consternation, and confusion reign her expression as she tries to get a word in edgewise while tuned in to Raphael's head, until Encyclopedia drops a HOT FACT and she has a little time to think in her *own* head.

"W-why's this a bad thing, mister? And what power do you want to give to the people? People have lots of power. Plus, Mount Fuji is a big mountain! What could be bad about it? Some people are excited to go there."

She uses 'excited' liberally.
Tomoe Tomoe seems to take the official's advice it's time to get moving as a good one. Roxas is laying out a plan already, she seems to think it's better than anything she's thought up and will fall in to help organize people into getting into the group and will help with any of the folks getting into the van who needs it. It seems to be a good one she will note to Roxas.

"Sounds good to me, though I can fly if we need to get a better view of the area we're in it would be in my experience here to keep such bursts /very/ short."

She's not about leapfrog flying back in the ruins of Tokyo. She does not doubt the locals have done a lot to keep the way safe, she just does not want to /take/ changes on that.

she will, however, try to help out those who need it who are moving on foot, and she will also start keeping watch as best she can. She'll try to keep an eye out for anything strange. She'll also chat a bit with those she's walking with if they seem interested enough and ask them what they might know about their destinations.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur is on the way out. Despite the bleak answers, Arthur insists on caring. He insists on learning what they'd want to do, even if they think they can't, or encouraging the children's dreams, even if they're unrealistic, or telling everyone how much he admires them for doing so much good for their family, or things like that. He's incorrigibly positive and caring.

    So much, in fact, that he winds up frowning at Roxas. He's gotten invested enough in each individual that he's not planning on letting the walk go long. "Homie, I ain't /not/ gettin' that ZWOOP. You keep the DUDES goin' all NORMAL, I'm ZWOOPIN' NO-QUESTION though. And a HUNDRED DUDES ain't gonna fuck my CAPACITY."

    Arthur's fistful of good luck charms -- an appreciative nod, grin, finger-guns, teeth-gleam, the whole works, is given to Tamamo -- is distributed aggressively. Mostly for the vans, this works well with Roxas. He's intending for them to be the only ones who need the heavy transit, after all; he hopes he'll shortcut a great deal of it through portal work!

    The vans are likely at least going to achieve the trip in an hour or two. Arthur intends to fly with his broom alongside both vans, keeping each group obnoxious company and giving them encouragement, and tracking the path. Because not only was he trying to encourage the procession, he was also trying to maximize his own motivation to /help/ them! And a hundred and fifty kilometers of often-magically-twisted space takes some motivation to pierce. Arthur is planning on piercing it.

    Good to get the others out of sight of the officials and such though. Arthur doesn't really want that sort of business to get seen.
Raphael Cousteau     HALF-LIGHT: Red alert! RED ALERT! SOMEONE HEARD US.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Chill! Maybe it's that fairy chick! She swings by sometimes, though..come to think of it, usually she's talking?
Raphael's head turns right around as he's addressed by the young woman. His expression doesn't change, of course, but there's definitely a start. "Listen, uh, I didn't think I was saying any of that *out loud*, but I have, uh, *severe brain damage*. You shouldn't worry too much about the things you hear me, uh, say. I'm sorry."
AUTHORITY: Weak.
PERCEPTION: Hey, worth noting that only one person seems to have noticed us talking. Just them. From a while away. I was watching!
LOGIC: Wait. Are you saying that whoever this is can hear *us?*
EMPATHY: If she can hear thoughts, the people around us must be incredibly cacophonous. Incredibly frustrating.
HALF-LIGHT: If she can hear us, then she is a *threat*, you idiots. BEWARE.

At the very least, Raphael is outwardly normal to deal with. He's even awkwardly trying to shake Xion's hand. "Anyway, yeah! I'll get on driving a van, right? That seems like a good use of my time." This is incredibly, incredibly awkward.
Xion "Oh, wow, you do? So do I! Can you hear what I'mmmm thinking?" Xion replies, a sunny (yet equally empty) smile plastered on her face. She brings her gloved fingers up to her temples and screws them playfully.

It's probably to help with Raphael's PSYCHIC POWERS.

"Don't be sorry. The only time *I*'ve ever agreed with all of myself was when we all decided we wanted to exist."

Xion extends a hand to pat Raphael on his shoulder. She has to get up on her tiptoes again, since Raphael is a grown man.

Pat pat.

"Well, Roxas is petty smart, but, um... Yeah! Have fun..."

"..."

"... Driving!"
Lilian Rook     Mount Fuji is, as it turns out, visible from much further away than 150 kilometers. It first comes into view at the nearest clear, high-ish elevation, relatively unforested area. As a refreshing, even heartening change from everything else, it looks almost exactly the same as a modern postcard. There are patches of deforestation that don't appear to have been completely recovered on its lower down slopes, and small evidences of landslides or scattered cratering, but one really has to squint to see them, and none of it appears more than halfway up. It remains an essentially immaculate symbol of the country that used to be here, and no doubt an important linchpin of national, cultural pride.

    The road is of course peppered with large numbers of shrines and small statues soliciting watching-over and influence from practically every single god of even the most archaic importance, by the hundreds and hundreds, and at least semi-regularly patrolled and re-sanctified or repaired by frequently traveled and reasonably skilled priests and shrine maiden types. Tamamo finds no shortage of at least middling spiritual potency amongst them, as those that were built to an even slightly more amateurish specification, appeal to lesser gods, or are less well-maintained, involve encroachment that grows hazardously close to the road. Less frequently are areas where radio amplifiers have been set up atop tall poles, as well as weather monitoring equipment, high vantages for cameras, and rather pointedly, automatic guns and proximity explosives.

    In most places, there's little more to see than dirt packed trails strung up very frequently with guard rails, prayer rope, and talismans plastered on trees and stones, and surrounding natural bodies of water, but overlooks to lower territory, or decayed portions in the path, give views of vistas of unnatural 'greenery', where the Earth 'flows' like volcanic or sedimentary rivers, and veritable jungles of glassy trees blooming with leaves like fire and vines of spun light bloom up, around jagged stones that are auspiciously similar to huge white and black, half-buried magatama, lining trails like teeth, and previous natural water turned strange and silver like one-way mirrors.

    In places, these are striated with bands of utterly impenetrable, frozen mists, and in others, by almost as impenetrable inky darkness, even in the middle of the day, where the terrain above the blackened ground is entirely translucent, like forests, cities, and shrines of ghosts, save numerous monoliths of variable size, made of chunks of perfectly rectangular or triangular stone seemingly shattered off the ground, limmed with bands of eerie, unwholesome light.

    It's best to portal past the places where these territories encroach closely. When they're less than a kilometer away, the aura that permeates even to the road is the type that'd drive horses fleeing in mad terror. Given the enhanced, swift transit, there is very little time for anything to go wrong, and the shuffling group of barely committed exiles in all but name at least seem glad for that, with dumbass children having a time riding big, probably ex-military, transports across all these weird views.

    All of it falls away approaching Japan's most holy, and apparently fiercely defended, mountain. Thankfully, according to the maps, all the stops are lined up along a somewhat narrow wedge of vertical mountain traverse, not requiring navigating its circumference much at all.
Lilian Rook     The first two are relatively low down its slopes, where the terrain isn't very steep, the natural forests that have a definite right to exist on Earth have reclaimed the area at its edges, and remained relatively isolated further in. The woods involved are thick and secretive, dark well before sunset. Though the paths --now essentially just mountain trails that even off road vehicles have tough times getting far along-- split in mostly opposite directions to get to each, they aren't located far off the main slash only significantly warded road down, no doubt for good reason.

    These two constitute the aforementioned 'communes'. In a strict sense, one would probably call them villages, if they felt like leaning into their surprisingly rustic trappings. They're only walled off in places, and by rather archaic means of wooden barriers or low stone construction, and always built on routes where water persistently runs off the mountain.

    They largely eschew as many modern trappings as possible, committing to water and wind wheels for power, very traditional, metallic-built plumbing, preference for wood heaters over electric, and an even more 'traditional' look. Both places feature very extensive gardens, many bearing completely unidentifiable flora, with compact and overly full paddies and farms outside, on different levels. Signs of radio equipment, electrical power, and modern medical equipment, are kept solely to out of the way shacks and 'shrine houses'.

    The purpose of them . . . isn't clear. Though they obviously each house and support perhaps one or two thousand people each, with their own clusters of manner houses between ponds and bridges and their own actual shrines, there are numerous buildings of completely uncertain purpose, shuttered and curtained during the day, some issuing tendrils of smoke, others making all sorts of odd noises, many surrounded by high walls. There are huge gathering areas surrounding statues and icons having no basis in any religion that has existed for hundreds of years, and slightly worrying amenities, like an cube polished and engraved on all sides that hovers somehow menacingly over a township area, or a huge tree covered in far too many wards and ropes to make sense, stark white and laden with red droplets.

    A little more than thirty people are sent to both of these. The receivers waiting are dead silent, taciturn, and cultishly dressed. These particular places are small enough that they *exude* a lot of raw mystical power, some of it from the land, some of it from the mountain as an entity, and very little from anything divine. Strange colours of smoke, distant chanting, and the clanging and clamour of unidentifiable smithing contribute a variety of somehow slightly unwholesome, perhaps 'sorcerous' vibes to each of them. None of the shrines have proper gates.

    The sense of them is that they're located to be as inconvenient to reach as possible, largely impossible to get into without being noticed, and even harder to leave, that they don't like outsiders looking around, and most tellingly, that the private mansions and unidentifiable shrines belong to people who aren't of noble blood and party to huge branch families and associated clans, like the Hojo, but have enough individual power to construct the workings of these places however they like. A village that exists to support some personal workshop or strange project of passion. The senior, but not elderly, members are predominantly offloaded here, as well as a number of children, and some women, but no fit men.
Roxas << "Is this seeming weirder to everyone else?" >> Roxas wonders over comms, as they begin offloading people at the first stop.

In an uncharacteristically tourist-y fashion, he removes an odd-looking cellphone from his jacket and takes a quick photograph of the people who look too much like Organization XIII members waiting to receive their new... what would you even call these people? Tributes? Wards? Something inbetween?

After helping the children being offloaded here and checking the list he was given -- taking a quick count, as a matter of fact -- he wanders over to Xion. He nudges her in the side, and mumbles, "Can you do the... the... you know." He traces a line between his head and hers, and then nods towards the receiving locals.
Xion Xion does not ride shotgun with Raphael, because, quite frankly, that would mean she got nothing done and probably start repeating things Electrochemistry said.

Or doing things Electrochemistry recommended.

And unlike Raphael, Xion has an entire fantasy inventory full of stacks of cheap Moogle drugs.

Instead, she hangs out among the caravan, watching the landscape pass by.

She gawks like a complete child, absolutely on fire for the feast of new vistas that sprawl out across both sides of the road. This, maybe more than any other experience, gives Xion the specific understanding of the 'American Dream' and pioneer spirit more than any of the hundreds of movies trying to instill and exploit that feeling.

And then they *actually get* to the 'village'. Which is more like a weird mystical coven.

Hopping off to watch people enter the village, Roxas indicates to her to 'do the thing'.

Confusedly, Xion starts pulling up her extremely cultish hood as a dagger 'shwinks' into her closed fist.

One set of Frantic Roxas Pantomime later, she 'ooooohs'. "Oh! Uhm... Ok, you distract the mister with the loud head, and I'll Do The Thing."

With that, trying to give Raphael some space so Electrochemistry doesn't convince her to do her entire inventory of Ethers to Truly Understand Space-Time, she reaches out to the cult-like gatherers of the people, and the village beyond, and opens herself up to their minds', and hearts' desires.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur, at the first stop, focuses on his business. Specifically: On getting the GATE set up. He's motivated, forceful, intent on fixing this. While this all my be a bit confusing he's still more than willing to shortcut much of this with his Gates. Using FAST-TRAVEL AWARENESS, he calls his Gate up back at around where he estimates the walkers are doing their walking. He intends to link back up with them! And since the van speed gives him a good feel on this, he won't draw too much attention with his transit.

    He's not sure he wants to facilitate making this easier.

    He also looks back to the first stop and squints. Pressing his lips together, he contemplates what they're doing here. Unless he truly can't get the focus /right now/, he intends to take a quick MAGICAL ANALYSIS look at the shrines, strange buildings, weird floating things, or sealed trees. What's going on here /sociologically/? Is this something Arthur needs to address more?
Tomoe Tomoe hikes along with everyone else and so far things seem to be going all right she does take in the scenery as they go and does have to squint to find any real differences from the version of the mountain she knows back home. She also takes note of the shines along the road. She also takes note of the odd priest or shrine maiden she sees on the way. The Offical wasn't kidding about them keeping the wards up at all there. Some of the more alien vistas do catch Tomoe's attention but she does not stop moving and she'll end up looking away from them after a little bit of time. She's trying to keep focused on the road and their charges after that.

<<Yes it's getting pretty strange with some of the scenery but that's what the horrors that invaded this world tend to do from what I'm aware of."

Tomoe will help unload the belonging of those who are at the first stop and help any of the people who need a hand getting in. The first stop does get her interest sure it looks interesting and she has to wonder what means they have to protect the communes then again they seem to put a lot into defending this region just from the wars so there's something here. She also takes note of the sorts of people being unloaded here, mostly the seniors, children and some of the women. She does, however, notice no fit and able men are being offloaded here.

She thinks on that wondering about what will follow further up the mountain. She also notices how guarded the locals are here and does her best to not cause /too/ much trouble.

Tomoe will snoop about pulling out her smartphone to snap a few photos of the scenery while trying to get a read on what she can see of the locals and this commune as a whole. Are they farming magical reagants here? She won't press too hard she's also sure she might distract things a bit for her companions who have better snooping skills than she does.
Tamamo     The sights along the way paint the picture of that alien wilderness close at hand, yet a thousand gods protect the road. That much is well enough. Their destination is another matter.

    "The statues are... unfamiliar." Tamamo goes through both her own memory of the distant past, and her memory of researching this 'modern era,' into which she'd been summoned. A step further, she considers those things that She, Tamamo's Solar origin point, knew, but there's limited access to that. Still, her feeling of the energies of this place are less than divine.

    "I have many questions." That warded tree. That floating cube. The manors and small shrines hardly concern her, a garden is merely expected no matter what new plants have been harvested to add to its variety, and the lack of electricity bothers her not at all, but the symbols, the chanting, the statues and icons seem worse than twisted, like stepping into a foreign land that should have been home.

    Loud and clear, "The charges have been delivered." Solemnly, "The duty is yet partially completed." She starts to walk toward that tree. "Upon its completion, other paths may be considered." More quietly, "No obligation bars me here. To question my authority would be unwise. I shall have an answer."

    Tamamo has no end of means for gently dissuading any opposition, her first line being the almost tangible aura of divinity that walks with her as the relatively mundane facade gradually sheds, followed by the light of the Sun in mystical perfection. The second line is more aggressive, the mental compulsion of her Charm, pushing into any who close upon her an increasing sense of fearful respect, a notable distinction from the 'trust and awe' that usually serves. The third line is likely unnecessary.

    She doesn't *just* ask the local kami what they're doing, whether of that tree, that cube, those statues, those unknown icons. She doesn't exactly 'ask' at all. She reaches out, feeling for the threads of Fate that must tie together those who gather in these spaces to these places and symbols, and to the central point where those threads converge. She reaches for that warded tree's Fate, and traces its past and future, yielding her present senses to the vision.
Roxas Roxas looks absolutely alarmed with something as he meanders off to join Raphael at the end of an animated exchange with Xion, looking towards the older man quizzically. He's really going to need to come up with some kind of better system of communicating silently with Xion. Also, probably, to let her know that stabbing somebody in the neck really isn't ever going to be The Thing coming from him.

Unfortunately, there are too many things he might need her to stab in the neck for him, so he decides that's really just a non-starter. Better not to eliminate a useful habit just because it wasn't the right one to invoke at this specific point in time.

He pulls his hood up, and glances between Xion and Raphael quickly.

"So..." He begins awkwardly, glancing around, "how was... driving?"
Raphael Cousteau Raphael, at least, is not *actively* trying to ruin Xion's life. It's just that Xion has the unfortunate ability to hear one of his worst parts. He'd help with unloading, he really would, but he's caught in an argument again.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Anyway, I'm thinking maybe the cool chick with the rope and the dagger might have some really cool magical flappy fuzzy thing drugs. You should ask!
VOLITION: No, you should not. You should focus on driving. Nothing is going on here.
INLAND EMPIRE: A thousand starforges, gleaming in the night. Discarded tools sent here to tend them.
He slowly, gradually pulls himself out of the car. The mountain air is brisk. The breeze is just a little bit chilly. He stares up into the sky, and drifts.
SHIVERS: Villagers bow and scrape to worship something they do not know. They write in a language they do not understand.
    Raphael is walking. He's looking at objects, though..more through them. He looks completely out of it--and it's not far off the truth.
INLAND EMPIRE: Something older, deeper than they know. Time before time. Gods before gods. Something ancient is called upon here, and those who call upon it know little.
SHIVERS: Whatever is here predates the ground it walked on. Predates the skies. Something here is from before *before*. And those who are here seek to call upon it.
INLAND EMPIRE: We have brought fuel to light the beacons to herald their arrival.

Raphael stares at one of the unknown shrines. He gingerly rubs along it. Roxas is ignored utterly. He is in throes, now, on the 'pulse' of something. This mountain is speaking to him, in the sense that these things do, and he will listen.
INLAND EMPIRE: Fifteen names. Fifteen names are spoken here, that are not heard outside of this mountain. A hundred are called upon for them.
> Why? To do what?

At this, the voices in his head are, for a frustrating, impossible moment, silent. He rubs his head, looking back up to the sky. "...What are we *doing*, here?"
Lilian Rook     The desires of people's hearts and minds are such a mixed thing. Even here up on this venerable mountain at this isolated and 'eccentric' settlement, it's not all that dissimilar from the city. The classical mansions and robust towers thrum almost passively with desire themselves, as do the works imagined and executed by those who own them. The lower level things in those minds are simple in nature. The impetus to be free of society at large --to do as they wilt, observe leaders only distantly, perform little or no work to have to derive wealth from taxes or scrape it from the land, and focus only on 'worthy' pursuits; the desire for personal status and individual wealth anyways is seemingly only strong enough to amount to these communities loosely allying to bargain and politick collectively.

    The far stronger ones are the individually held dreams of visionaries, either current or handed down, with charismatic, cult-like appeal. Whether it's a common theme for the Mt. Fuji area, or simply just this small section of it, there are those whose highest concern is achieving further understanding of 'the divine' than has ever been allowed. Pushing past the accepted bounds of what 'miracles' and 'divine power' and 'sacred rituals' and 'god-like spirits' are, and asking questions of why and demanding deeper proof of existence than has ever been culturally allowed. Thirsting curiosity, inescapable appeal, and the strangely driving need for a deeper, more concrete, firmer answer to answers to cosmic questions from over a thousand years ago.

    But the masses of people --the common inhabitants-- whether imported or born and raised there, register so little. Even for those second or third generations, the shared desire is vague at best. The overriding thought is a weak one, and too-commonly held. To 'not stand out'. To work hard and be acknowledged as working hard. To follow the correct ideas and be acknowledged as following them. To read the room, be a part of the majority, and retire at some point with dignity and face. Or just die with it. It's the same here, the same there.

    Arthur can read it. The desire and the sociology are almost the same. A powerfully driven visionary of means and casual disregard for social norms is the one who 'builds something', around which droves of people who seek to be given a role and thus 'not stand out' congregate as one of few places they can go. They labour --less overly much than the Urban Center, but at greater personal risk-- for the sake of approval, despite the fact that nobody seems to particularly enjoy it or find much, if any, meaning in it. There is no overwhelming force on display here, like that which casually parades around to remind people back in Britain's Urban Centers. There's nothing even particularly stopping someone from leaving; here the mountain at large is largely safe and un-terraformed, and it wouldn't be too hard to just go to another settlement in search of greener pastures. Collectively, nobody here really benefits, or even seeks much of anything, but for lack of alternatives, they bend to the one person --and their immediate associates and family-- who does have a reason.
Lilian Rook     None of the regular 'settlers' even look up for Tamamo wanting to enter. The middle men amongst them --overseers and foremen and security-- are easily passively dissuaded. It's only if she tries to approach deep in, to the inner circle, where her presence is finally *strenuously* objected to, unlike anywhere in the urban areas. Otherwise, to her searching, most of the statues and signs, icons and regalia, are very old. They've only been moved out here, or have actually been here for generations, upkept regularly, as signs of individualist meaning and commitments to departing from the mainstream of even 'secret Shinto'. Others maintain them now without much comprehension of what they're for, simply performing a duty to be busy.

    The larger oddities are different. The results of ineffable experiments, for the most part. A cube that is inexplicable because nobody expected it to turn out like that, and is simply kept around for observation and study. A tree inside which something very, very dangerous, was hastily sealed after its nature was realized shortly after being summoned. They're the littered relics of bending divine rules and rituals and writings to novel ends, experimenting as scientists would, lying cluttered around the workshop, some benign, some mildly helpful, others like a slagged and buried reactor breach.
Raphael Cousteau INLAND EMPIRE: They grasp, here. They grasp and pull at the fringes of what is known. Of what should be known. At what mustn't be known.
RHETORIC: The working class here seeks nothing more than to be invisible. Rise up, damn them!
    Raphael, for his part, seems to be content to merrily jog about and investigate. It probably looks rather bizarre. He wanders over to some peculiarity, stares at it wordlessly for a couple of minutes, occasionally talking to himself, and moving on. That said, those who have been around him for this trip, Elite or no, have probably got the general gist of his particular brand of insanity by now. The Inspector is determining a Great Truth. Whether or not this great truth actually exists, well, that's up for debate. Hasn't stopped him yet.
INTERFACING: So what's with the cube? What if we poked at the cube?
VOLITION: We absolutely should not play with the cube.
INLAND EMPIRE: Consider, though, the infinite mysteries. We could learn so much from the cube.
VOLITION: I am *absolutely certain* nothing of importance is going on with the cube.

And so, grudgingly, the Inspector moves on. There is *absolutely* something of import going on here, he's sure of it. He's just not sure where to look yet. The amount of attention he's likely drawing is, at least, likely drawing attention away from everyone else.
Tamamo     Tamamo grows still, most carefully watching the sealing tree. No, it's not something she has to deal with. Even if she would like to know what's inside it, and what they were trying to accomplish, there are too many people who might get hurt if one were to let it out and make a proper accounting of some experimental failure.

    She turns to go, apparently done with this area. She speaks mostly for the benefit of the assembled escorts. "Having accomplished this, I shall mention, nothing of the duty granted requires that those who have traveled to these locations remain only here. Should some wish, there would be no contradiction in allowing their immediate travel elsewhere."
Xion There's a lot to take in - but at the same time, there's a uniformity to things. An odd dulling, a pooling.

"It's like the whole place is in winter. A heart-winter." Xion comments. "You can tell which hearts are kept warm, but others - many others - are like iced honey."

It's a food-analogy.

"I think that..." Xion walks with Arthur and Roxas for convenience, following the COOL OLDER KID around while she opens up - and not Raphael, for now, because Raphael makes Xion want to do hard Hi-Ether, or mix Echo Drops and Elixir in a cocktail with soda.

"... this sort of place is like the Organization we come from. They want to know, they want to push and learn, but instead of spite, or instead of empty need, or habit, they push because they want to push. That's what I feel. The people under them, however:"

She references the throng of people they delivered, that would be integrating with the society. "They're the cold ones. They want to exist, but they're not really 'people' about it. Does that make sense?"
Roxas "I..."

Roxas has mostly settled into relative silence and observation, not having the ability to pore over the mood of the locals the way that Xion does. He clearly isn't expecting the explanation that Xion actually offers, though. He rubs uncomfortably at the back of his head, faltering a half-step before he carries on, "I guess that makes sense. But these people don't seem to be... you know, damaged in that way. Ordinary people are usually pretty..."

He gestures into the air with his hands, "You know, kinda pointlessly defiant and go-get-'em? Not all of them, but more than what you're describing. I mean, you tell them they can't do something, and they do it out of spite."
Tomoe Tomoe doesn't get into trouble as she pokes about the settlement she gets a few photos and the like. Still, something just feels strange to her. People just seem to be going through the motions of something. Tamamo's information over the comm she'll find interesting. That starts to think she's pretty sure something magic-related is going on here but she's more of a combat caster. With her world only gained magic of a sort in her life after all.

She'll leave the magic to the experts while she wanders, she'll look for signs of any defences the settlement has, they can't be all magical right? It might give her an idea of what they have to deal with.
Arthur Lowell     Detritus from untold, constant churns of visionaries and individuals of means. This whole place feels wrong. But what is the experiment /for/? What is the experiment guiding towards? Something critical? Something sinister? There is a purpose here, and people are being organized in systems around it.

    Arthur has just stuck near Tamamo, really. He lacks anything else to do and she always seems to have a better handle on people in spiritual situations than Arthur does, so he's been kinda following her lead. So that's kinda in, then subsequently out with her. This leaves him sort of at the edge of the inner circle. Maybe here's a good spot.

    He looks up and speaks softly. "Hey, fam. This a lynchpin? Is it keeping things right, or does it need to be put right?" He says, to seemingly nobody in particular. A great effort is presumably underway, and every sign of its outcomes shows it needs lots of hands, lots of trampled hearts, and involves a lot of resources. If allowed, assisted, enhanced, is there greater or lesser threat to timelines, reality, or this simple cosmos? If stopped, impeded, or inhibited, is anything made better for those things?

    A quick ask to the Noble Horrorterrors, who can whisper to the dead half of his spirit. Just want to get some info before moving further. What Would Eldritch Beings Do?
Tamamo     The cube appears only to be some unexplained curiosity, however dangerous the unknown might inherently be. After gauging the tree, and without being able to do something so impolite as invade the inner circle, her attention focuses on the statues as the most likely objects of significance. She approaches one of these, reaches out, and again touches through the pastward threads of its Fate.
Lilian Rook     They also do not like people taking photos here. Tomoe gets about one warning to stop. If there's next time, she gets strong armed out. If there's a time after that, the phone is getting confiscated or destroyed. You don't walk around Area 51 taking photos, even a small and privately owned one.

    But by the reckoning of outer entities with ancient wisdom pertaining almost solely to the maintenance, destruction, and creation of realities, Arthur gains no clear answer; rather, his answer is clear, but contradictory in of itself. That these practices are unlikely to lead to a disaster anywhere near as great as what even the rest of the mountain is prepared for. That they are likely to hurt people regardless. That should they succeed, they may well be necessary in future. Yet the pursuit of them in of itself, in a mundane, day to day way, chips away at that future too. Things forced to be pursued in secret for centuries will find a way of coming out regardless, no matter how many times kicked over or suppressed. This is clearly the most stable, 'acceptable' cost of doing business with it --the greatest progress, the least danger-- but somehow it isn't the 'right' one, somehow presenting an equal, corrosive future risk in of itself.

    It's all tied up in the people themselves, to the point that eldritch cosmic beings can see the deleterious results of either, but ultimately cannot provide a clear and graspable answer about how *people* can be fixed so neither comes to pass --only that as it is now, it will cause little bits of damage for a very long time, and expediently torn apart, it'll create a lot of damage all at once at some point in the future. That this perhaps doesn't just go for a single commune, but for everything.

    The statues are of no gods, buddhas, idols, that Tamamo recognizes. Not just ones that are lost to modern understanding, but none that represent anything she's familiar with having existed. Her examination of them comes down to being wrought by hands of skilled artisans interpreting the slightly mad and abstract artworks of researchers and vision-havers, who in turn were trying to convey some description and form of something barely described. It's like old illustrations of what dinosaurs were thought to look like from their bones, but working from a point of chips and faint impressions rather than actual skulls and spines. The oldest are several centuries old, surprisingly well-kept, spending most of their time indoors, even in hiding, used in all manner of regular prayers, slightly edited over time, blessed a thousand different ways, a thousand times more often than any sacred energy had actually stuck.

    Given though, after a *short* while, you are not particularly welcome. The job had been, after all, to deliver the Agreed Upon, not go touring around. There's only so long that it can be justified to walk around and poke at everything after the job is done, and the first few Elites turning around and leaving is good enough cause to have the scattered, taciturn elements that *do* patrol around, one faceless mask short of looking like some sort of cult executionary role, to start *insisting* that you be on your way with the rest of the 'cargo'.
Tamamo     Tamamo gets 'information,' but not really answers. This will have to be enough for her, for now. She leaves once she's done, not minding the use of her abilities of persuasion on anyone who suggests otherwise, but her work doesn't take that much time to complete, so it's unlikely to run into problems.

    "A few might take the gates," she says to Arthur, "and that would be their choice, as 'to stay' would be, for those who did not." After a little more, she adds, "I would not force betterment upon them. They are not, after all, my children."
Raphael Cousteau     They are being shepherded out.
AUTHORITY: You are an *officer of the law*. stand your ground!
SUGGESTION: You don't have enough valid reason for that. Just go, for now. There will be time later.
INLAND EMPIRE: I'm hearing voices.
> That is a *stunning* development.
PERCEPTION: Are we talking beyond the quiet murmurs of the people who really want us to go?
INLAND EMPIRE: ...Technically, no.
That said, the Inspector can always come back later. There's probably some way. He can get a warrant, or something, however it is you do that around here. And, what's more, he's not actually sure that 'mysterious, uncertain rituals' are actually *illegal*.
ESPRIT D'CORPS: You should absolutely find a book of laws, if we're going to be trying to play the law man. I know. It's crazy. But we're crazy, so it evens out.

And so, he gets back into the vehicle. There are plenty more people to drive 'home'.
Xion Xion looks between Arthur and Tamamo, bright blues hopping between the two as they interrogate the fabric of the landscape in their own ways.

"So, then, bite to eat? Or just go?"

Xion seems fairly enthused about trying the local cuisine, but can feel the 'push' for them to leave. They did have a goal and a mission, after all.

"Maybe they stay because it's safe and 'normal' here. People can get used to that. And 'safe' even if it's less than perfect, and 'the unknown' can be scary. It takes a certain kind of want to trade a sure thing for chance."

"Like desperation."
Roxas "Or like dreams." Roxas points out, dully. He doesn't really have one of his own that he can articulate. But he's not quite that cynical just yet. He hums thoughtfully and adds, "And a few other things, I guess. I said it before, but people really do seem to be able to live off of spite sometimes..."

"Don't go and try it though, okay?" He asides to Xion.
Tomoe Tomoe does halt when she's asked to stop, she knows to pick a fight. She'll play it off as being an idiot and will put the phone away into her inventory as she continues to wander a bit. She'll end up wandering back to the rally point putting her trust in the more magically adept of the party. Still, there is something up here but what? She has no idea other than it's related to magic. She pays attention to the radio for any additional information form Arthur and Tamamo. Or anything else the others find. In the end, she'll make it back to the rest of the convoy to wait for the others. What she hears on the radio though leaves her uneasy.
Arthur Lowell     "Nah, they're tied... like, strapped directly to the thing going on here. The project /is/ the people, but if it keeps fucking them up, it's gonna... Uhuh? And... yeah. Yeah, gotcha. No, I don't-- that doesn't make sense. Like they're /wired in/. Can't tell what the deal is. Think it's because the /deal/ is unclear though, since it's all wrapped up in people. All I can tell is maybe it'll be critical sometime, but it's definitely chipping away at the foundations /right now/. Yeah, okay, thanks for trying, I guess." Arthur explains to Xion. "I think they're not gonna go on account of that." He speaks slowly, and in disjointed ways.

    He sticks away from the inner circle, heads out a bit, and, on the way out, gives a quick wink to the patrolmen. "HEY DAWG! This all ZONED for WARPGATES? I'mma make a GATE real quick here 'cuz I wanna go CUBE-WATCHING again sometime." He slaps one down quick, depleting a not-insubstantial chunk of ASPECT to do so on such short notice, leaving it kind of stuck there and requiring dedicated defusing and disassembly.

    Tamamo recommended a Gate and so he's given her one! It should hook into normal Warpgates and offer some time for those who want to leave to do so before someone decides to rip its magical circuitry out. He's on the way to the next spot, to see if he can decode this more now. Boarding the broom and getting ready to fly again!
Xion "Do you feel better for trying?" Xion asks, pulling a protein bar out of her pocket and unwrapping it carefully, before biting down. "To help them, I mean. If you feel better than before, that's good. If you feel worse, that's bad. But you're..."

She smiles. "You're the kind that has to try, aren't you?"

Roxas' warning about living off spite gets an oxymoronic gesture, of both a firm and resolute nod, and a light laugh. "Even if I understand 'hate' and spite, it feels so awful to hold onto it... So I don't think I will. Thanks for thinking about me, though."
Tamamo     "Oh, were you hungry?" Tamamo asks Xion by way of response. They're going, of course, little being still left to do here. "I fear I brought rather too few cookies, I am sorry to say. I could only guess as to the numbers."

    After Arthur opens his gate, she nods. "To leave open an opportunity, a choice to accept some other fate, is not one I would regret." Even if few take it. Even if none but the most desperate step through. "Even should none accept such a gamble."
Arthur Lowell     "HEROISM ain't always FEELING BETTER, usually it's just BEING BETTER. Lotta shit's MORALITY VEGGIES, homie!" Arthur says, shrugging vaguely. His grin spreads broadly and looks a tad bit forced. "Means ya HANG OUT in SHITTY PLACES, even if you FIX STUFF. Made sure to MEMORIZE NAMES but now I just know who's gettin' FED TO THE BLOOD-GREASE GEARS, even if I pushed stuff in POSITIVE ANGLES. Ya feel WORSE after ya do HEROISM, it's all about FEELING BETTER than the BASELINE ya'd get off JUST WATCHING. Kinda like some kinds of DRUGS, right? FEELS GREAT the first couple times, then it's BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE. And DOING DRUGS IS REALLY, REALLY COOL, so I do lots of HEROISM."

    Bleak! He delivers it all with a boastful grin though.
Raphael Cousteau Raphael Cousteau looks over at Arthur.
There is a long moment. There is clearly some internal strife going on beneath that grin, before finally..
[:.:][::]

He *absolutely* gives the thumbs up to the drugs comment. Composure checks are hard.
Roxas "Arthur, uh..."

Roxas rubs uncomfortably at the back of his head again, "I think you're a pretty good guy, but that's the most messed up think I've heard somebody say in a while, and our 'big sister' is a weirdo with a thing for lightning. So..." He reaches over to rest a hand /firmly/ on Xion's shoulder, gesturing back and forth between her and Arthur.

"That's... /not/ normal. I mean, I'm not sure I really know what normal actually /is/, but I know that's not it. That's more..." He issues a little shudder, "You know, Demigod things."
Xion Xion holds both hands up, her teeth around a protein bar. "Off! Nff!" She pantomimes (Oh! No!) With an 'I'm not really explaining myself' waggle at the wrist, Xion points at the protein bar with both pointer fingers, before snatching it from her mouth by the wrapper. "When I feel bad, you know, I do something I know makes me feel good. Like eating something with chocolate, or something tasty. That's all. It's..."

She snaps a black-gloved finger. "Food therapy!"

As for Arthur... "I don't really understand, but thanks for the tip about drugs!"

Raphael's thumbs up is highlit in a snap-over cutscene. "That must mean that he's the coolest person here!" Is Xion's voiceover.

RAPHAEL COUSTEAU
COOLEST PERSON HERE

smashes into the bottom of the pane, highlighting The Expression as Raphael bungles an important Composure check.
Lilian Rook     You'd been told you aren't supposed to take the vehicles up the mountain any further than this, but it'd be hard to do so if you wanted to. Not very far from there, the forests start petering out and becoming thinner and populated by hardier specimens, the trails grow steeper and narrower, the very few and very old signs disappear completely, the air chills and becomes harder to feel like you're breathing enough of it in, and the bare rock begins to come out more often, exposed to the air as it has been for thousands of years. Sooner or later, you're stuck with the reality of the stereotypical yet very real staple: steep stone staircases of literally quadruple digit steps, laid straight as possible over the mountain, only conceding to geography with tiny plateaus, and never side to side.

    Anyone very familiar with, or with information on hand about, monasteries or temples on this particular world famous mountain could say that these stairs, and what they inevitably lead to, aren't 'supposed' to be here, in the sense that one wouldn't *really* know for sure, but they'd assume that someone --probably at least the government-- would be aware of their existence. The fact is undeniable though that a bunch of people have to climb these awful things in low oxygen conditions yearly, and a lesser number of people do so much more frequently.

    The two 'places' end up being more or less the same destination in the end, split up by half a kilometer of *more stairs*, taking the form of a lower complex and higher one.

    The former is broad and square, with stark and high walls, many differently sized and shaped buildings with low and angled roofs, and a very large 'courtyard' space that eats up more than half of the total area, the far end of which is built about a waterfall which then runs through multiple outdoor groves and gardens, organic and in the less literal sense. There are only the small signs of areas cultivated for anything nominally edible, and low odds of glimpsing a chicken or goose. It's far too small to be called anything like a village, with the amount of building space being less than a large college campus, even though the full area of it is more like a small wildlife reserve.

    The iconography here is at least very reassuringly familiar, with the white, red, and yellow-as-gold accents, archetypical statuettes, and architectural iconography, of Buddhism, though from an age when it was somewhat freshly imported, before successive Imperial regimes shaped it. The people around are relatively few, and obviously work outdoors almost all the time, either fairly young or pretty old with no real ground in between. The famous monk robes are almost nowhere to be seen, though there are far less austere, if still simple, variations on them. Things look . . . ordinary. There are young children gathered around seniors listening to some lecture or another, people doing private recitations, others with artisanal handicrafts, some tending gardens. It seems perfectly ordinary, if 'very boring' if 'tranquility' isn't one's thing.

    This is only where all of the commutees over 50 or so end up. No others.
Lilian Rook     The extra flight of middle finger stairs goes all the way to the tip of a barely connected outcropping of the mountain. Here the buildings are few and tall, without a broad community slash worship hall as below, that in of itself seeming small from up here. It's instead characterized by pagoda-style tiering, gilded roof eaves, grandiose pillars and arches, surrounded by the natural water on all sides that converges into the waterfall that then flows down on either side of the stairs. There are no living spaces. No gardens except for the purposes of geometry. No construction beyond one central tower, two flanking sub-buildings, and seemingly decorative posts and arches set out into the water. There rough stone paths scattered widely around, up to even higher levels, or greenery across the water.

    You can only see --not hear-- the distant signs of individual people, or very small groups, in little cleared out pockets of wilderness, isolated out of sight from each other, engaged in what appear to be more ascetic and spiritual practices, but behind the main building, it's very much unmistakable that martial practice is going on. Here, you're only allowed as far as the last set of arches to where a 'paved' outdoors area is being overseen in four different blocks of unified practitioners of different age groups, which wouldn't look tremendously out of place from some alternate history National Geographic issue if it weren't for the excessively unrealistic scale of exercises going on with the older groups. They have *ten year olds* doing pedestrian things like walking on coals and bamboo pole training. What this ostensibly very old monastery could possibly have been training people for all this time surely goes well beyond simply pursuing spiritual refinement, but into the deliberately honed ability to haul up 'impure' two ton stones from down the mountain and pulverize them with palm strikes that don't touch.

    This is where they want you to offload the rest of the children. Of course, the few older men who come out to formally greet you in their black and orange robes , though obviously very much armed, are nothing but polite. By contrast, these two places in one have nothing to hide at all.

    Not even the fact that, off over the surrounding water, there are several others holding what is very obviously a funeral ceremony, at a distance that the cremated ash from no less than six simultaneous bodies doesn't blow all the way over.
Tamamo     This is much more familiar to Tamamo. Yes, there'd been centuries between its introduction to the country and when she'd seen it up close, which makes for some possible differences between that set of memories and here, but that's not important.

    With her remaining set of general-purpose health charms, she distributes these to those over-50s who are offloaded first, passing each one with a smile that pretends to be more knowledgeable of this area than she actually is. It's the least she can do, and so, it's what she does.

    She has some particular interest in seeing the training of the children, but little excuse to intrude. Instead, she takes the first opportunity presented to ask someone, in reference to the funeral, "Oh, my, has something recently occurred?" Polite concern, without imposing the idea that anything necessarily has.
Xion "This place... Reminds me of a GARDEN." Xion decides, as the rest of the children - and only the children - are let off. At the first stop, it was older people, women, and children. Now, here, the children. Taken in early for monastic training - and effective training, at that, should the results shown reflect the first few steps of the process.

This had left the able-bodied men in their caravan, which maybe meant there was a 'work purpose' that they would find their final destination at. But here, and now, Xion watches the children go to the monks, and considers. It's a lot of data, and she's more of a hands-on sort of problem solver, but if she just thought like Zexion...

Adopting a single finger tapping at the side of her cheek, fist vaguely below her chin, Xion looks pensive, academic, and thoughtful. "Your outfits... Do they have a significance? Orange and black?"

Yeah, no. Xion just isn't that brainy.
Raphael Cousteau The RCM absolutely has skilled enough drivers to get the vans up this high.
Raphael Ambrosius Cousteau is not one of them. He tries, though he doesn't do anything crazy enough to risk flipping the van or anything.

"Well! We're on foot now, everyone. Apologies." He does, at least, sound as sincere as you can in these circumstances with a vaguely apologetic, sad grin on your face.

And so, the two destinations. At least they're close together. The first, seemingly a 'retirement' home. Though the monk robes are gone. That's probably noteworthy, though...
LOGIC: I got nothing. Really sorry 'bout that.
The second, where children are trained to do insane stunts like walking on coals and, when they get older, lift two ton stones.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Whoa. What do they put in their breakfast cereal around here? Can we get some? Can you ask?
Raphael tries very, very hard not to ask one of the monks about it, and proceeds to utterly fail at such.

"So!" He asks one of the heavily armed monks, being very polite. "...What kinda crazy stuff do you gotta give kids to make 'em able to do that?" He points towards the ten year olds merrily walking along hot burning coals, barefoot. "I used to teach kids how to run and play baseball. Can't say I'd ever get 'em to do that!"
Tomoe The trip carries on and she sees why they can't take the vehicle further it's just going to be a nightmare to pass from there. Tomoe will help people who need it and carry what little she can in her inventory she'll also be flying more keeping overwatch in the event someone slips she can catch them. Hopefully, that measure will not be needed. They go higher and higher and finally reach the next two places on the list, they are only split up by half a kilometre or so. It makes Tomoe wonder if the two support each other in some fashion? She's not sure but she takes it in this time she does not take photos not after what happened the last time. She odes take it in and seems to find the first of the two pretty relaxed and it looks like the kids are being taught things by the seniors who live here.

This is where all people over 50 depart and end their trip.

The next place is also interesting people seem to be doing some sort of ascetic and spiritual thing. It's not long before she hones on the martial practice going on. This is the kid's stop and it doesn't' seem like too bad of a place. The men who greet them she takes not of them being armed and is polite back to them as well. She'll help make sure the kids get things sorted escorted into their new home.

The funeral also catches her attention as well as does Xion's comment.

"A GARDEN? What do you mean by that Xion?"

She also asks the men who greet them.

"It seems pretty tranquil of up here."
Xion "GARDEN is like... A year-round summer camp... for turning schoolchildren into elite mercenaries." Xion explains.

"But also it's good education?"

"Something like that. It's like this, but with more computers." She decides.
Arthur Lowell     "Nah, it's HEROISM STUFF. If HEROING starts FEELING TOO GOOD, ya LOST THE THREAD." Arthur says, gesturing back and forth with his hand. "HEROISM means goin' around the WORST PARTS OF LIFE. It's gonna make ya SAD! Even if ya ain't got any DIVINITY goin' on."

    Arthur Lowell isn't sure what to make of this particular one. They're dividing the people up. The people, in this case, are part of magic. What does this resemble? Circles of human content, arranged just so. For what? While the offloading is handled, Arthur tries and likely fails to comprehend this on a rather more geometric level. Circles within circles, what is the mapping of this place when he looks through it? If Mt. Fuji is a spellcircle, what is made by injecting cold elements of purpose-driven conformity, lukewarm elements of post-labor tranquility, and heated elements of pre-conformity cultivation? Does this resemble something? Is this something Arthur can decode on a magical level by examining the geometries between them? Does something seem transmitted between each? Is there a magical relationship he can identify?

    Noble Horrorterrors and small-picture stuff alike have failed him, and yet, so far, he's only been able to identify the most obvious major issue here, which is the absolutely tremendous amount of stairs, which he urgently warns everyone about the dangers of as fast as he can. Stairs are fucking dangerous.
Lilian Rook     On one hand, Raphael has made a terrible mistake. On the other, it is a mistake that affects exclusively himself. He has, instead of offending anyone, made a particularly stern-faced looking spear-holding man suddenly take intense interest in him, in the way of that man now very seriously yet excitedly talking his ears off about the inherent spiritually purifying virtues of things like 'physical exercise' and 'not drinking alcohol' and 'not owning things' and 'doing lots of repetitive tasks', and generally not doing anything that sounds even slightly enjoyable, that is in as far as he can understand maybe ten percent of it at most. So much is just way too deep in terms of a religion that is somewhat different from the researchable version of a religion that he doesn't even have at home. The rest is just so abstract that it all sort of blends together into a soup of very impressive and important sounding words. The dude is a monk, not a teacher. The point is that the amount of *not* doing drugs (or anything else Raphael does) would probably kill him right away.

    As an unfortunately running pattern against the borderline open adoration Tamamo had received around Yamato, understandably a kitsune isn't something the people here are *excited* to see, though if they were mistaking her for a 'regular kind', surely they'd be a lot more hostile, right? There is a sort of distant, 'less dewelled on the better' cordiality to their interaction with her. They're not very shy about saying that six members of the temple died. They don't use any fancy words for it --no 'departed' or 'passed' or 'left us' or 'moved on'.

    It's not very secret why either; Mt. Fuji is an entire area of the country that is still 'pure'. Not a fortified settlement and everything within ten minutes of military reach, but an entire geographical vista. That kind of thing can only come from a great number of Enlightened (in this context, read 'powered' as opposed to the exclusively Buddhist kind) people, who either call it home or are dedicated to its existence, coming together and sacrificing a great deal for it. Even now, the base of the mountain has to be kept at bay, and with only eleven other schools of similarity great enough to share a sense of camaraderie, and some associated allies they don't deign to describe, people will inevitably die safeguarding the country's greatest natural, historic, and mystic treasure, and the old ways of life that are still possible to live here.

    They strongly reject the idea of pooling efforts with a broader government for globalized aid as much as possible. The entire order here had been completely hidden before, and only dragged into interacting with the world when there was a serious danger of there being no world left for anyone to reincarnate into ever again. As a whole, with the other institutions around the mountain, they claim that they have more than the might to keep it 'pure', equating it to hundreds of years of dealing with creatures that exceeded the capacities of the pedestrian exorcisms of traveling monks, and that they have enough implicit pull for it that a delegated representative can negotiate on their behalf.

    These children will be brought up to be ascetic warriors, exceeding that, spiritual leaders, and failing that, people who exist to support the two. Ostensibly, for a far more noble and meaningful cause than the last two stops. Young enough that they'll have no questions about it later in life. A significant portion of them are then destined to die in that line of purpose, as wandering warriors have for centuries, rather than ever life safely in a city, protected by modern institutions.
Lilian Rook     The geometric pattern, to Arthur, is the same as keeps recurring over and over again. Circles of threes, everywhere he goes. Even the communes below had laid themselves out roughly like that. Even on the mountain of thousands of legends of gods and monsters and heroes, it's a more mythical and grandiose mirror of the Urban Centers' planning.

    Those of greatest numbers and least consequence fill the outermost edges, at the border of the rest of the world, absorbing the most from outside and being the first to be pushed out themselves, worthwhile to have around but ultimately a resource and a buffer. Those of hard and meaningful work, and those with considerable talent, are in the middle ring, privileged with insulation from most basic and worldly concerns for the sole sake of putting forth the most of anyone, who are not nearly so simple to reach, nor as simple to displace, though they live limited to one thing.

    That should mean that at the final, 'innermost circle', necessarily higher up a mountain, he should see a destination representative of something like 'the people who do not or should not have worldly concerns at all, who probably never have, who are ultimately indispensable, almost impossible to be without, and use their leverage over the sum total to occupy the most select and buffered position of all, right at the center, guaranteed everything they want'.

    That's the sociology and that's the geometry. Probably. That seems to be a pattern of how they've been instructed to allocate the procession too. The useful but replaceable ones to fill the third circle(s). The ones who have potential or experience enough to be worth propping up for the sake of putting out a lot of special work in the middle. And now they're left exclusively with only physically fit young men and beautiful young women for the last stop.
Raphael Cousteau ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I regret everything..
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I mean it. This is it. I didn't think I could have a bad idea, but here we are. It's real. It's right in front of me. I made a suggestion, and it was, in fact, an incorrect decision.
...
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Guys, make this stop. Just, leave, or something. Please stop standing here. This man is actively making us less cool the longer he speaks.
...
...
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Guys, this isn't funny.

Raphael, for his part, outwardly keeps awkwardly grinning and nodding along. This is a trap. He cannot simply /escape/. Still, at least he has the absolute fortune that he is physically incapable of looking bored with people. Sure, there's absolutely nothing good that can come of this...
SUGGESTION: Actually, hold on a minute. Can you pretend to internalize this for a minute?
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Whoa! Whoa, whoa! Is this mutiny? This feels like mutiny.
SUGGESTION: Pretend! It's fine. We'd be..boring without you. No. We need to pretend like this man has very good ideas. He's very excited. We can work with this.
Raphael clicks his tongue, pointing fingerguns. "Heh, well. That's more than I could ever hope to accomplish. Absolutely would be starting too late in life, but I admire it! That's a level of dedication and sacrifice I can't help but respect." He nods winningly. There's a wink. It happens a few times, like he can't quite stop doing it.

"It's certainly a darn shame the older people coming here seem so concerned about it, isn't it? I guess they must change their minds eventually."
Tamamo     Tamamo refrains from tempting any of the monks away from their ascetic pursuits, playing beguiling tricks, or other such things an actual, 'transformed fox' sort of kitsune might do. Cordiality is more than sufficient to maintain that all-important face of politeness. She listens on to the explanation, nodding and vocalizing appropriately, getting the basic political situation of the area down, and expressing the level of sympathy appropriate when speaking with others who maintain a detached, positively resigned outlook toward the deaths of their members.

    "An even dozen schools, is it?" If they're distinct from this one, that might be an interesting topic. Other than that, she isn't prying further.
Tomoe Tomoe notes that the guards? Just plain out say they had people die, not mincing about it at all. She simply nodes that she understands what they are getting at. It's pretty clear what his place is to her and it makes sense. The more Tomoe sees of this place, the more she gets just how much the survivors of Japan put into keeping the Antigens from tainting and overrunning this place. A price they still willingly pay to prevent as evidenced by the funeral.

She gets the idea it's a school. Tomoe remains polite and clearly interested in most of what's said though Ralphael is totally on his own for the moment. It seems pretty clear cut here, they train warriors and try to awaken people to be enlightened here. She doesn't seem intent to pry at all, and soon they will be on their way to thier last stop, with the fit adults. She can only wonder what is going to be at the next stop.
Xion Xion has a mountain of insight that washes over her like waves on the beach. This is the way of the world. This is how things go. This, probably, is a way that keeps worse things from happening. A diligence of toil. She can understand it. There is a reason that Mount Fuji remains the way it is.

This is that reason, in visible part.

She pats Raphael on the side. "It's OK. I still think you're cool."

She's talking to Electrochemistry.
Arthur Lowell     Arthur can only loosely understand this. In his own way, he identifies the nature of what's afoot here. Everything moves in towards the center. The whole circle exists to fuel something within. What is it? What is it chipping away at, or what is it made to preserve? It's corrosive to the way things are meant to be.

    This isn't a time to make a run to the center. Arthur would /love/ to, but it's not gonna happen tonight, not when they have business they still haven't done. Primarily because this will do a lot of damage if torn apart, and Arthur is only really good at tearing when it comes to situations like this. "Shit! What're they--" Arthur starts, then decides to mostly reserve his further chatter for the radio. He's started pacing around while the others do their interrogations, visibly doing some kind of mental math or mental geometry.
Lilian Rook     There is unfortunately only so far Raphael can get with the act. For the first ten seconds it appears to be well-received, and then the man's face hardens again, and he has something to say about flattery, and pride leading to the 'demon road'. He suggests that maybe he should be on his way, grasping quite quickly that Raphael didn't understand half of it and is just trying to be polite; it's a virtue in of itself at least, because the *trying* means he managed to avoid being outrageously offensive.

    Tamamo's inquiry obtains only one additional meaningful fact. The noted schools on the mountain are, of course, those who hadn't essentially disappeared after something happened to most or all of their members, and largely sects based on differences of opinion, in matters of hard specifics when it comes to practises and regimens, texts and mantras, locations and cultivations; anyone who actually came up here in the past and succeeded in finding a temple, did so because they sought much more than a traditional, 'earthly' one could offer them, and so their focus is on the method to most directly obtain the perfect path to both enlightenment and Enlightenment. They're not necessarily very different in interpretations purely of faith. Because of this, the 'offerings' of the major Urban Centers are split one a piece, based solely on proximity. It's . . . straightforward. Dire in its own way, but the people being sent here are, in a sense, 'being found a home' with monasteries being willing to take certain people in, if they can put up, pull weight, and perpetuate the tradition.

    But the last marker on the map doesn't seem to have any bearing on that. There are thankfully no more stairs, but past a point, there are no more paths. Bare rocks, loose gravel, the woods returning in dark and evergreen, rushing streams derived from snow low enough to be just melting in spring. It's obvious that skilled guides would traditionally be doing this each year, and just as obvious why there are no old people or children left to make the rest of this trip. It gets to the point where it's significantly harder to breathe, on top of being made to pick routes by 'which requires the least amount of jumping', until arriving at the destination point . . . which is just a vacant clearing in a forest, finally somewhat sunny, and scattered with autumn leaves that should have decomposed months ago.
Lilian Rook     That seems to be because you aren't taking them all the way to the final destination. The last group of individuals in their prime and of significantly above average fitness and appeal is only ten in number, and that's exactly how many people come to meet you at what must be a neutral halfway point of sorts; one from which you wouldn't be able to easily find your way to where they live. It could be anywhere on the mountain for all that would be obvious, though, because the group that shows up as you do is solely comprised of unusually tall, heavily muscled men, wearing an eclectic assortment of items typically associated with esoteric mountain hermitage faiths, different from member to member, most of whom have masks, all of whom have swords, and all of whom have black avian winds of considerable size, which they use to drop from the sky as a whole, landing around the clearing's perimeter so as to be on all sides., and doing so without making any physical sound but for the heavy gusts of wind involved.

    There isn't a repartee. Neither barely permitted loitering and tourism, nor a polite and straightforward conversation. The biggest, tallest, most heavily decorated winged man gestures towards the ten people you have left, gestures towards the center, then stiffly acknowledges you only to state that you aren't the people he was expecting to see, and make plain his disappointment that 'Lord Hojo' sent a group of bizarre perfect strangers up here, instead of a 'fitting replacement'. None of them seem to have much of a desire to talk to you. There's the unspoken feeling that they dislike being made to deal with an intermediary who isn't some specific, respected person. Likewise, the expectation is that you leave the last few, confused people, here and then turn around and walk right off.
Arthur Lowell     "WHAT UP, MAVERICK?" Arthur rambles to the arrivals, offering his complex coolkid handshake. "Yeah, man, all we got is what H-DAWG gave us. You wanna send the COMPLAINTS over UP THE CHAIN? LAY 'EM ON ME, CORVID-19, I can promise I'll be hella 'AS PER MY LAST EMAIL' about it with 'em. Pass-agg turned up to LEVEL TWELVE MAXIMUM SCATHING. You want me to deliver, like, a BAFFLED, HAUGHTY CONTEMPT FOR UNDERESTIMATING THE IMPORTANCE OF YOUR WORK kinda look up there? Tug those face-muscles for real, homie, lemme see whatcha got."

    What the fuck is he talking about?

    "For real though, I'll get outta your featheres. SORRY 'bout that DELIVERY, just gotta give what I got, ya know? Good luck on REPLACEMENT STUFF." Arthur knows he probably can't ANALYZE at this distance, and intends to return later, while also genuinely seeming like enough of a complete fucking dumbass that nobody really needs to worry about all the loitering he did on the way up.
Xion Xion is super chill, super fine, and absolutely relaxed rrrrright up until tengu assassin dudes drop into the clearing, surrounding them. It's at that point that her fists tighten, her stance widens, and her face becomes more defiant - a moment away from a swirling screen and a battle theme starting - before it turns out that this is exactly where they're going and who they're meeting.

But Arthur Lowell, COOLKID, Mage of Space, and Geomantically Curious defuses the situation with--

"Wait, level twelve *maximum* scathing? Is that..."

Xion whispers. "Is that a thing?"

"Oh no!" She exclaims. "We left the trucks at the bottom of all those stairs! We should go get them and drive them back, right? They're expecting them back!"
Roxas The deeper they get into this...

The more familiar Roxas finds the trappings of it all, even as those trapping turn into weirdo /bird/ people. He surveys the 'head' bird man with keen interest, but seems to grow rather more disappointed as he actually speaks. It's like a place run by a group of Saix, only somehow they managed to accumulate a specific sort of subtle disdain more characteristic of Vexen's worse moments. A part of him feels as if he should be familiar with this behavior from /somewhere else/, but exactly where doesn't click with him.

That's a feeling that he's used to.

He leans in towards Xion, "That's Vexen on a /bad/ day. You know, when he actually talks down to you instead of telling Zexion to take care of it."

Like a child sitting in a classroom, he raises a hand to call attention to himself. But he doesn't wait for an invitation to speak, "Hi. Um, hi. I know you don't /have/ to answer us or anything, but... is this how /you/ guys got up here? Somebody was assigned to bring you up from down below? Or have you always been up here?"
Tamamo     Oh, no. Certainly, it's a group with no semblance of uniformity, but a comment made as such is thus made to each. Tamamo ignores everyone else present, for the moment, and acts as if she were individually addressed, because for all effective social purposes, she was.

    "My, my," she says, engaging her folding fan together with a sweetly poisoned tone, "In what way do you find my presence lacking? Are you not pleased to find your charges in the most capable hands of divinity, the singular Amaterasu-okami no Bunrei, Tamamo no Mae, to such extent that you would forgo all introduction?" It doesn't matter what position this guy holds. He could have stewardship over all of Mount Fuji and their relative positions would remain the same.

    "Perhaps there is some matter the Lord Hojo merely though unworthy of mention, some quality of this expected replacement, that would explain why no other is suitable in your eyes, even one descended from Takamagahara. Perhaps this could explain what would otherwise pass for, as would be impossible for any who should have legitimate cause to be here presented, a grave and foolish insult, such as, I am certain, would never pass your lips. Perhaps you would remedy this unfortunate misunderstanding."

    She's not going to physically attack him, but everything she can do without lifting a finger, which happens to be quite a lot, is on stand-by.
Tomoe So some of what's going on make more sense to Tomoe as Tamamo gets an answer to one of her questions. She can see the logic of it at the very least and it's something to think on. There could be worse alternatives and fates. Still not the best thing in the world. Tomoe will be polite and big the people here goodbye as she turns to head off for the last leg of the trip. They are down to the last ten people and heading up to the end of this operation. Well, save for getting transports returned.

Then the people they are to meet the drop-in, Tomoe is impressed with the coordination and she does seem slightly started she reacts fact but does not go for a weapon she catches on they are the people they are here to meet. As the name Ayakashi Special Interests Symposium, memories of the woman from the memorial comes up, she's still got the card and really does need to contact her and follow up. She gets they are not here to talk and she does not engage them much. Tamamo response emboldens her slightly though.

"Lord Hojo chose well with us, he clearly did his research on those he hired. We have successfully delivered everyone without major incident."

Her tone is polite, but firm she does not seem to be looking for a fight and isn't making any hostile physical action.
Lilian Rook     Arthur successfully situations himself as 'a complete dumbass' in that approximately two seconds after immediate, immense displeasure at him swaggering around and yelling and throwing handshakes down, none of the tengu dispatch have been able to comprehend what the hell he's talking about or the first thing about the elaborate handshake routine, which is aborted halfway through. It takes some real time to process, before, finally, it seems to crack the biggest, baddest, most bearded guy in the front up in the highly specific, deep-voiced slow runaway laughter that generations of Japanese fiction stereotyped afterwards. What he 'orders' Arthur, in the most roundabout way of being gracious about it, is to deliver his demands that one 'Minamoto' be treated as a prince until he is fully recovered.

    He is thankfully in good enough humour to overlooked one more dumbass kid asking a dumbass question, especially being basically a white kid asking a white kid question. Roxas is very, *very* briefly and barely informed that no, they have been there for basically ever, this is their mountain, in a nonspecific sense with other beings that have lived in the region for longer than human civilization has been anywhere near it, and that the only humans that have historically been allowed even this far are 'Shugenja' and some specific heroes who have done some favour for the tengu in past, or, quite blithely dropped, humans who were abducted for some reason or another. Roxas doesn't get to know where because nobody gets to know where because you aren't cops and also we don't respect cops (in metaphorical attitude, rather than Raphael literally being a cop).

    He passingly acknowledges that yes, you did actually finish the job (and notes 'very early' in a way that is highly ambivalent) despite being completely green. But they have exactly nothing to tell anyone anything about anything that pertains to what the people who go with them end up doing. The precise fact that nobody else knows is what had been cause for some subvocalized worry back at Hojo's domain, granted, none of them have been eaten yet.
Lilian Rook     Tamamo is a separate matter. Tamamo is Japanese. She is *old* Japanese. She wears it, walks it, talks it, and plays the game. She puts upon the era that this guy was burning castles, making pilgrims disappear, and bestowing weird blessings on specific geniuses, monks, and heroes. She is also 'a woman of social status and magical power' and he is 'a man of military status and veteran prowess', leading to an extra Layer to the whole thing. He doesn't fold like a bad hand, but adopts another very specific, stone-faced, meticulous and unemotional way of immediately replying: It's a small world now. There isn't a single spirit, demon, youkai, dragon, or anything between or apart, that he hasn't at least heard of through. Ergo he knows she isn't a kitsune from this world of any variety, much less one old enough to have multiple tails. Thus, the fact that she evidently doesn't match the characteristics of an ordinary kitsune can be rationally put down to being from some other world with other kitsunes that apparently a Daimyo would consider trustworthy and also suitable for basic tasks like this.

    No particular disrespect is meant, but he doesn't budge on his disappointment that the specific person he was hoping to see --evidently that Minamoto-- isn't here, as it evidences he 'hasn't recovered' yet, which has been taking an unduly long time, and the guy is both 'the usual' and someone the tengu is personally acquainted with and respects, for the fact that his great great great great grandfather was apparently taught swordsmanship by a tengu who recognized him a genius in the age of the art's precipitous decline, and preserved it diligently enough --and passed on the truth instead of taking credit-- that a descendent of his eventually used those teachings to travel back to Mt. Fuji and specifically fight in defense of territories occupied by tengu during doomsday instead of his home city. It's a full on 'drinking buddies with the human' kind of thing.

    But claiming to be *Amaterasu* is, even for 'presumed some other worlder weirdness we don't care to research', big. He, while remaining exactly as polite as is courtly, insists on continuing to use only the vaguely noble form of address pertinent to letting the name 'Tamamo no Mae' itself slide as some presumed allusion or descendancy. That is, unless she has really startlingly obvious proof she can claim to be a bunrei.

    He himself does introduce himself in the process, with specific, backhandedly pointed reference in using 'Sojobo' in 'last name equivalent'.
Tamamo     Tamamo now knows the usual guide's name, his reason for being a guide, and that he's injured, though this doesn't explain the relative secrecy at the base of the mountain. She presumes that his injury must have involved some matter of embarrassment, and that it was more embarrassing for the humans for the tengu. It's a sufficient explanation for her purposes. 'Embarrassing' is not at all the same as 'sinister.' She brightens.

    Literally, and not for the first time today, Tamamo shines, the burning of extremely obviously divine Sun energy clear to anyone not spiritually blind, and similarly clear to any not entirely physically blind. The tips of her fur are gradually replaced with self-contained flames, she radiates rather than merely reflects light, and she washes the mountaintop clearing with the climate of a summer plain. She brightens figuratively, as well, communicating her understanding of Sojobo's disappointment regarding the present fate of his trusted friend, going so far as to suggest sending some small aid to him when she next visits, which will presumably be soon.
Roxas In spite of asking a question that was probably kind of offensive, Roxas actually seems to abruptly shape up when he is told that these are in fact Tengu, and not some sort of weird enlightened martial artists who happened to grow wings as a part of their journey. That was a reasonable expectation, right? That happens. You punch blocks of ice long enough and then you get wings.

But apparently the specific identification is enough to knock him into a different frame of mind. He thanks the Tengu for explaining to him, assumes a posture of actually-paying-attention and trying to be something in the realm of respectful, which is probably still a bit lacking because he is a teenager with exceptionally bad role models.

In this case though, the ritual and specifications of it all have been parsed as Faerie Things (tm). Which means-- he actually figures it's probably hilariously dangerous in some probably unforeseen ways to step /too/ far out of line.
Tomoe Tomoe watches the reaction to Arthur and that lighten things slightly the talk of Tengu isn't too shocking given the motif of people who showed up. She's not going to press to go further she said her peace on it. The response to Tamamo is noteworthy and it's intended to. She knows she should not say further. She does not interfere as it plays out. As long as there is no violence there is nothing to worry about for her. Thankfully things seem to get at least someone less tense.

She is also a bit awed to see actual Tengu. That is a pretty big revelation to her. Also, some more information comes out which makes her get a better idea of his reaction to them.

If the man was hoping to have a chance to meet with someone who normally did this? His disappointment is understandable really in the end.
Lilian Rook     For all intents and purposes, 'briefly Becoming the Sun' is convincing enough. There is still the unstated sense that nobody present takes Tamamo for a bunrei of the one specific Amaterasu, who would hypothetically have her roots here, if she indeed ever existed in such literal terms, but that the distinction doesn't matter; the goddess is the goddess is the goddess, in much the same way a certain other golden person likes to go on about kings.

    It is also a fact that tengu are well below Amaterasu-omikami on the whole celestial to terrestrial totem pole, and so the only pertinent thing to do is validate Roxas' slightly misguided assumptions of 'faeirie things' by immediately kneeling en mass. The switch of attitude is so sudden that it could even be said that he even sounds similar to grateful when Tamamo suggests seeing his favourite human.

    Inadvertently, this whole very Japanese dispute between mystical figures has done the exact opposite of concern the last remaining charges. The ten individuals remaining are actually pretty taken with the whole display, apparently finding the burly supernatural winged dudes that are no doubt going to be carrying them away very shortly both far less scary and significantly more humanized (for good or ill), and of course, blessed for having made the prilgrimage in this particular company. Of all things, in the end you're literally seen off with thank-yous from thosee resigned 'extras' who'd wordlessly accepted you carrying them all the way here 'because it can't be helped'. Those are the last, most mysterious, most inaccessible stop, too. A weird, indirect, Japanese quasi-dispute between some magic portal dumbass, menacing bird men, and an offended divine avatar, all happening completely over their heads, seems to have somehow made it feel worth it.
Arthur Lowell     "Hell yeah, homeslice, I'mma TAKE IT TO THE TOP. Homie gonna get the GRADE-A." Arthur says in easygoing tones. There's a quick glance to Tamamo during all this, of course. He'd gotten the general Gist of her business before, but it had been a while since he'd seen this in high-clarity high-intensity action. "Jesus, you a Muse of Light or what?" He mutters softly, scratching his head and looking off a bit, eyebrows climbing up his head. There are distinct territories for a god of the sun and a god of the stars, and a very good reason the stars don't try to compete in the day-night cycle.

    It looks like the business is settled, though. Arthur gets to work on casting a Gate to get on out of here, one he'll share with the others for obvious reasons. He waves a quick goodbye to each one as they head to their final destination, wishing them good luck in increasingly esoteric ways.
Tomoe Tamamo's display isn't lost on Tomoe at all she does her best to be respectful about it. She watches it play out she notices the people she was escorting reaction it's quite the shot to her. Even with the life, she lives this isn't something she sees every day, after all. She does wish the people going on with the Tengu well. With that, she will bid farewell to the Tengu and the rest. Following Arthur trough the portal he made, it's time to go get those cars and go back.