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Madeleine Cadrasteia	After a (hopefully) good night's rest in the motel, the Elites set out again on the road. The drive south from Buffalo, Wyoming to Casper (home of the Tate Geological Museum) is only an hour and a half long, so it's not long until the van pulls into town. The mountains stand tall to the west for the whole drive, slowly rearranging themselves as the geography continues to warp and bend.     The museum itself is at the south end of Casper, just across the way from a municipal golf course. Outside the building stands a life-sized Tyrannosaurus statue, which prompts Maddie to call all the way to the back of the van as she parks, "They got dinosaurs in France, Matilda? Museums for 'em, I mean. They're all over the place out west here, 'cuz of all the finds over the years. Crazy stuff."     The best time for Madeleine to ask her next question for Matilda is, apparently, just as the group of Elites enters the doors of the place. "So, do we gotta steal some rocks, or do you just need to like, look at them?" She sounds genuinely unsure. Beyond the doors is a veritable cornucopia of fossil and rock specimens, with a complete mammoth skeleton at its center. "Banded iron is really old stuff, right?" Madeleine says, looking around for the geology sections.     A middle-aged man with a goatee, dressed casually but wearing a namebadge, approaches from around a corner. "Good morning! Forgive me for not meeting you at the door, we don't usually get guests so early in the day so I was catching up on some emails. Russell Hawley, education specialist here at the Tate," he says, offering a handshake to whoever will accept one. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Ivy Carrow	"I am already teaching. Bouanich is even one of my students."     "Are you?!" Her eyes turned to Matilda, her grin nearly splitting her face. "One of the most talented swords of the multiverse, teaching you! You must be honored. Head high, Matilda!"     "Do people not think to compliment it much?" Her attention comes back to Lilian, and her stutter in the middle of her practice. "If they don't, that's such a shame...The way you handle your sword...The smoothness of your motions...Your FOOTWORK!" She swoons. "That kind of pristine swordsmanship is such a rare marvel! I'm glad to hear that it's being passed down!"                                    __________                                       Ivy's recovered much of her energy, happily bullying her way back into her old seat for the short drive to the museum. "There's something to be said for going to a museum. Oh, sure, there are worlds where you can meet things like them--but there's this atmosphere in places like this...Where people sit there, in front of these great bones--dreaming of a history that they never got to see! In a way, by dreaming about it, they make it real all over again. Find ways of seeing things you'd never expect..."     She continues on like this, as they step out and approach the museum. "Hopefully we won't need to steal any for the ritual," something about robbing a museum felt wrong, somehow. "It'd be a shame to not let anyone else see them--but, ultimately, Matilda's our expert."     When they enter the museum, Ivy grabs Russell's hand eagerly, leaning forward, "A pleasure to meet you Russell! We hope the trouble outside hasn't been too much of a bother to you."
Ozhira	Ozhira spent the night in a bright orange five gallon bucket with the branding of a popular American hardware store chain on the exterior. By morning, the creature resembles only a dense red slop, like thickened strawberry jam that smells faintly of fresh blood and sea salt. When it's time to leave, they have regained their human disguise and do not seem any more tired than they usually do.     The ride out of Buffalo and into Casper is spent, once again, in observational silence. Content in their seat, Ozhira merely seems to be listening. Those sensitive to minds can hear the ongoing conversation within the song of their connected minds; debating the prior night's events and discussions and what was learned from them. It is a spirited but not aggressive conversation, a dull thrum of intermingled psychic voices like a reasonably populated lecture hall. > Tate Geological Museum     It's clear even to Ozhira why they've chosen to stop here. Matilda, obviously, could use an artifact from the central region of the continent to narrow down her search. There isn't much the Beast can contribute towards this, though. They quickly become distracted by the fossil bones; staring up at the ichthyosaur and plesiosaur mounts on the walls. Wandering a bit, they come to a stop before the mammoth display, staring up at that skull that the ancients once thought belonged to the Cyclops.     Giant Bones are fascinating because one gets to think about what they were like before they became Giant Bones.     The creature glances down at the info placards around the display. Their hands raise, cradling a globule of red material. Quickly this biomass reshapes itself, drawn thin and growing hard until it resembles the displayed skeleton. With their eyes on the reconstructive art, their miniature mammoth skeleton bleaches from earthy brown to ghostly white, then gains a coating of viscera and muscle and organs and skin and hair. It raises its tiny trunk-- > "Good morning! Forgive me for not meeting you at the door--"     Spotted!     The thing in Ozhira's hands immediately dissolves back into a quivering red glob, then disappears entirely before they drop their hands to their sides and turn around to address the newcomer.     "Hello. We have come to see your bones."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Hello. We have come to see your bones."     Russell lights up like he's had an idea. "That's right, today is the rock show! I expect you're here for that, very good. That'll be set up in our education room; if you don't mind waiting a minute I can make sure everything's ready for you."     He hurries off to a door at the back of the museum floor, and a minute or so later he steps back out and waves the Elites over. On the other side is a large open space with the stylings of a classroom, posters about various specimens and geological eras adorning the walls. The room is filled with folding tables, on which have been spread an assortment of tablecloths and plastic sheets. Each table is home to dozens of variously-sized and shaped rocks and fossils, grouped by type and age, and then by size (and corresponding price).     Some of the larger fossils, including a few roughly-complete fish, are going for a frankly eyewatering price for a lump of rock, but an appreciator might find them worth the cost. Madeleine immediately beelines to a selection of ambers, several of which contain long-preserved insects. She probably isn't going to be much help in finding ritually appropriate materials...
Regulus	Regulus was interested in the philosopher stone and she is hopelessly devoted to rock, but these two traits combined doesn't mean that she has interest in rocks. But she has convinced herslef to do her best to not be utterly bored out of her mind because she actually likes Matilda a lot (she has realized, as of late, that she is growing to like a lot of the people who point at her and call her criminal scum, fiendish ne'er-do-well, rapscallion and so on. It makes her feel like she's doing the dynamic right and, more to the point, they don't really feel like the government workers that she's accustomed to. They deserve better as far as Regulus is concerned so she's going to do her very best to support Matilda today, she's decided. You know, without signing any paperwork of course. And besides, rocks do have ''rock'' in the name, perhaps she can uncover some new way of looking at the rock and roll universe. ''Ivy gushing about swordstuff.'' "Do you know about that?" Regulus asked. She has no interest in swordsmanship herself but she has an interest in passion. ''Hopefully we won't need to steal any for the ritual'' "Woah, stealing?" Regulus asks. "I don't think Matilda's going to become a hardened criminal today and I don't think she'd be too appreciative of me stealing on her behalf either." She does consider, of course, that the placing of the geometric center of the earth back where it belongs might call for a little bit of robbery, but the world is STILL going crazy here. "Maybe we could just ask nicely about borrowing it." APPLe is concerned, "Captain...are you feeling alright?" "I'm...being a team player...!" Regulus declares, now deciding that she will shoplift from a museum if it proves necessary but she'll leave that as Plan B. She doesn't even know if they have to move the rocks anywhere at all yet! Regulus thinks about the last time she was in a museum and shudders. ''Hello. We have come to see your bones.'' "Ahahahaha! Wow! You're just really into those spooky tv shows lately huh? Trying to get a rise out of people right? Yup yup...!" Wait they aren't actually here for bones, they are here for rocks. Is Ozhira trying to distract this guy so she can steal some rocks? It's possible... But she still hasn't commited to stealing rocks yet. Matilda's been so excited...! ''Today is the rock show!'' Regulus perks up instinctively before remembering it's a a literal rock show. Be strong, be brave. Being encouraging to Matilda now means she can teach her how to pick locks later. "So what's the coolest kind of rock, love." Regulus asks Matilda. "Is it... onyx? Quartz? Uh... volcanic rocks? Show me your expertise, love!"
Petra Soroka	Given Lilian's sleep schedule, there was never any way Petra would wake up as early as Lilian, but she still has to wake up a couple hours before they set out in the van. Exercise and a shower happen before the sun comes up, and then out of the full-length mirror in the motel room, Petra unloads various cooking appliances to plug into the outlets for her own use. A coffee machine for Lilian's espresso, toasting and buttering bread and emptying out her coolers to assemble new sandwiches (if she'd done it yesterday they'd be soggy now!), multitasked with a dozen swarming droplets of Silver while Petra reads through articles on her phone to contribute to one of her class's discussion boards, wearing a facial mask all the while.     She'd seem remarkably well put-together and efficient, if not for the fact that she's also somehow accumulated considerable physical damage since last night. Smears of antibiotic ointment and concealer cover her neck, and her wrists are bruised too, gingerly moving like she's a day out of the hospital. Instead it seems more like she's coping well, with being in a near-fatal car accident, or mauled by a bear during one of her woods-excursions. She's wiping blood out from under her fingernails with an alcohol wipe from one of those excursions when it's finally time to leave, hauling two people's worth of luggage without question, the potted succulent bobbing through the air behind her.     She's not wearing the service dog belt today, it seems. Instead she's just back to the familiar old collar, with the cord of her pendant underneath it, which makes anything about her neck besides the raw irritation and bruising hard to see. Also, mysteriously, she's wearing a hoodie that says I AM FERVENTLY AGAINST SUICIDE in big block text, oversized enough to almost completely hide her shorts, which is yet another shirt that she discovered by chance and found unbelievably funny.     An hour and a half is simultaneously not that long, and long enough that it's straining the limits of how long she can stay in the car safely. The glow of waking up this morning actually sustains her enough that she *doesn't* feel the compulsion to drug Lilian again, though that only intensifies her clinginess in the backseat. Instead, she does normal things, reading through a book called Flatline Constructs open on her lap while browsing through uploaded scans of various newspapers from the City, crossreferencing between them to write some article of her own. "They got dinosaurs in France, Matilda?")     Towards the end of the drive, Petra gets more and more fidgety and distracted, looking towards the windows and whining about how much longer it'll take. This coincides with her getting irritable towards everyone but Lilian, looking up from her book to glare at the back of the driver's seat. "They have dinosaurs literally everywhere. God. America didn't fucking invent *dinosaurs*."
Petra Soroka	Museums are a neutral-positive location for her, though. History-obsessive as she is, Petra's interest in museums might be lower than you'd expect even if it floats solidly above average, but that's mostly because the number of times she's gone to one since high school is shockingly low. Still, old people working at museums are among the few of humanity's representatives that she isn't aggressive towards as a baseline, and she takes Russell's offer of a handshake.     "Hell yeah, dude. Rock show. We're just driving by, really, but this place is actually so cute."     Petra is warmly enriched by the education classroom of the museum, peeking at posters to satisfy her curiosity about what kinds of outreach this place does. She's immediately gratified to see a child-oriented astronomy demonstration happening in just a couple days, incrementing her impression of museums upwards several more points. Riding that positive feeling, among others, Petra mostly just putters around looking at rocks.     "You know, I've never actually been to a rock show before, but I had-- have, actually-- a friend who's really into crystals and that kind of magicky-stuff. Is that the kind of magic crystals we're looking for, Matilda? Like, rose quartz and success in love, and all that?"
Lilian Rook	Fortunately for literally everyone, Lilian is fully recovered after a good night's . . . rest?     A night's behaviour. Let's go with that.     Precisely one person knows that she ate a full meal at 3am and then had a full breakfast at 7am, and ideally only two are aware that she slept a grand total of two hours before that. The fact that she adamantly insists on Petra's hourly 'leg stretching' breaks on a sub-two hour drive is groanworthy, but tne entire trip is so greatly improved by Lilian quietly writing in a notebook, discussing ordinary things with people in her adjacent seats, googling 'lana del ray' on her phone with earphones in, and doing nothing more frightening than taking apart the individual layers of Winter Crow's rotary multiplication and projection array for field inspection, that it's maybe not worth arguing about.     Some minor amount of conversation is had about Trídéag, responding to Ivy's interest in swordsmanship with the general strokes of what she's actually teaching Fixers and why, with a passing mention of 'Cleasanna Lilí Dubha' and 'Langya Jiàngé'. Some of it is spent sampling Petra's sandwichcraft and talking to her in circles around the subject of maybe learning to cook herself, via how Petra learned and what she thought of it. Some of it is spent trying to fill empty air and thus asking whether Regulus prefers Basil Valentine or Samuel Norton. The rest is spent on the other Norton.     . . . . . . . .     'So, do we gotta steal some rocks, or do you just need to like, look at them?'     'Hopefully we won't need to steal any for the ritual'     'Woah, stealing?'     "Ideally not." Lilian says, a look of distaste already coming over her. "But if the issue is forced, then the matter is clearly straightforward." By which she means: "The laws of the Thirteen supersede all other laws."
Foundation Scions	It's obvious, after the stay in the motel, that Matilda has gotten plenty of good rest (with how bright and early she's awake, excited about today's prospects, and the mission, too, probably), and it's equally clear by her expressions, the bags under her eyes, and the fact that she hasn't changed out of her first day's outfit, that Mesmer not only hasn't gotten good rest- she hasn't slept yet. Getting back into the vehicle is a slow crawl for her, eyes having a hard time staying open, and by the time that the van pulls into the museum's parking lot is right about the first bit where she's properly been ready to nod off asleep- at least the start of the drive is quiet, thanks to her exhaustion.     Matilda, meanwhile, in her excitement, has donned a vibrantly different outfit for the day- at least until there's any expectation of the eventual confrontation with the thieves, where, of course, she'll have to change back to her Foundation grey's. She's decorated herself up with the same charms and necklaces as her adventure-y overalls ensemble, and has wrapped a matching ribbon around the former's straw hat to pair with this dress instead- still utterly oozing 'she's on a vacation', and another far divergence from having a crystal-clear fashion sense. 'They got dinosaurs in France, Matilda?'     "Quoi? No, most certainly not, Ms. Cadrasteia! They all died a very, very long time ago!" Quickly, and quite embarrassed, Matilda realizes the actual spirit of the question- "Er, of course, however, when it comes to the presevation and presentation of, erm, fossilized dinosaurs, clearly, there is no better location than le Muséum national d'Histoire naturelle, au Paris. Surely, this will not compare, nor will any others here, but that is 'oh-kay', as they say it- nowhere else can be the best, and there is only so much blame that missed opportunity can come with!" 'So, do we gotta steal some rocks, or do you just need to like, look at them?'     "What? No, of course not! We are not here to steal! Where would you have gotten such a nefarious idea from? Ah-hem! We are here to shop!" Matilda has been excited about getting to buy crystals for a while- not only does she need magnetite (preferable to banded ironstone, though its geomagnetic inclinations ought work for her arcane purposes), but she wants other materials to fiddle with, and craft into little charms and baubles, similar (albeit less nice) to the many she wears as jewelry accessories.
Foundation Scions	'That'll be set up in our education room'     "Hein? Education... room? Not, outside, or in a convention space, or a market, but, one room?" Matilda's heart visibly sinks, before she deploys her first layer of cope- "Well, er, it is at least a large room, no?"     It isn't.     Strolling through the museum catches Mesmer's bleary attention more than Matilda's, for her to every now and again remember that she's surrounded by effigies of scary bone-creatures, and jump in her skin a little, before she finds something she can lean up against without skin touching it and rest for thirty to fourty seconds, tired even to walk. 'Hello. We have come to see your bones.'     "Shut up. Stop talking. You should be behind glass, as quiet and still as all of these-" Mesmer nearly slaps a glass case for a fossil display, too hard, the noise making her flinch and no doubt earning an unpleasant Look from the museum steward. 'Is that the kind of magic crystals we're looking for, Matilda? Like, rose quartz and success in love, and all that?'     "Rose quartz in particular? No, no, I have, actually, brought, ah-hem, quite a few charms of that material with my person! See?" She indicates a few bracelets- "Er, but, specifically, magnetite stones are what I am looking to find, cruder and less-polished if at all possible! Er, but Ms. Petra, what manner of usages did your friend practice? Warding efforts, influencing charmwork, aura healing, er, or- perhaps, divinations?"     Matilda is so dissapointed at the lack of scale and fanciness here- she's a rich girl crystal-liker, not a back-country prospector or amateur rockhound! She likes specialty lighting, large crates of material, and the buzz of lots of others conducting similar businesses! This is... fine.     Humming to herself a bit, she hovers from table to table, picking rocks up to inspect and putting others down- occasionally, she'll find a small topaz, or an adorable smoky quartz, or garnet, that she enjoys, and pulls out a messy handful of cash bills to pay for, but she's really after that magnetite!
Regulus	EARLIER ''Prefers Basil VAlentine or Samuel Norton'' "Oh tough one. I think Basil Valentine squeaks it out though I don't know, of course, if he was actually multiple authors but if he is a bunch of guys rather than just one guy, I think it's fab as hell they all ended up working together under a shared alias. 'Course, that might mean all the texts aren't necessarily equal but he knew his stuff for the time, you know?" ''They have dinosaurs literally everywhere. God. America didn't fucking invent *dinosaurs*'' "If I recall correctly, back then the continents were still in the process of breaking apart--or just had? Either way, it'd be strange to imagine that the dinosaurs were isolated to just one location." Regulus's attempts to pump matilda up don't seem to be making much purchase but she is soothed, some, by her read on Matilda not being interested in robbery being spot on. She looks at Ivy with a raised eyebrow behind sunglasses that reads 'See?' but she pushes up her shades all the same. She's wearing them indoors. She doesn't wear them to protect herself from the sun she wears them because sunglasses are cool. ''You should be behind glass, as quiet and still as all of these.'' "Ahfff...." Regulus just doesn't want Ozhira to eat somebody or something before this trip is over. Why did Madeleine invite a billion bugs in a human suit on this road trip? She's trying so hard to not be like 'what the fuck??' but Ozhira keeps being goopy and spooky and icky. "Magnetite.. Magnetite..." Regulus says, following Matilda along as if she thinks that's going to help Matilda find what she's looking for. "But what's your favorite kind of rock?" Regulus presses again. "Do you got one?"
Foundation Scions	'So what's the coolest kind of rock, love.'     "Hm! That is a hard question to answer, as all have their purposes and uses, and, well, each different one, with its own inclusions and personality, has different measure- but if I had to pick but one material... ach, c'est difficile, but, in matters of pure versatility, while corundum is most exceptionally famous and high quality, I, personally, am fond of the friendliness and familiarity that all varieties of crystalline quartz hold within." 'But what's your favorite kind of rock?'     "Mm-hm! Of course, the answer to that is the same as the answer to which is best- my favorite could, of course, only be the best choice, as I, myself, am the best!"     With her excited tone, it's kind of hard shocking that just eleven or so hours before she was writing up official reports of misconduct on behalf of her departmental teammate-slash-schooltime-acquaintance, from her sudden and seemingly uncharacteristic outbursts of foul language, insults, and physical altercations. This must truly be the magical influence of crystals, revitalizing mood and shifting focus. Imagine.
Lilian Rook	'Hello. We have come to see your bones.'     Lilian's eyes narrow from the upper half of a grimace. "Are we doing phrenology now?" she says, before she really thinks about who said that, at pretty much the exact same time as everyone else's stupid gut reaction.     'Quoi? No, most certainly not, Ms. Cadrasteia! They all died a very, very long time ago!'     Lilian claps her hand over her mouth to try and stop laughing. She throws a deeply mysterious thumbs up at Matilda, while almost cry-laughing over the top of her fingers.     'Surely, this will not compare, nor will any others here, but that is 'oh-kay''     "Indeed, the presentation could use work." Lilian says, starting her walk inside. "The identical cases make it feel rather stuffy, don't they? Is it really so difficult to hire an interior designer?" she says, delusionally. "Still though, it's not as if we really have any of these . . ."     "Hm."     Now Lilian feels just a little bit sad to realize that there is essentially no preserved record of natural history left on her world, outside of perhaps a few eccentric Enlightened private collections. She hadn't really cared about it before, so the melancholy sneaks up on her.     'What? No, of course not! We are not here to steal! Where would you have gotten such a nefarious idea from?'     "Likely from being a nefarious ne'er-do-well." Lilian says, relishing the stupid term on purpose.     'Shut up. Stop talking. You should be behind glass, as quiet and still as all of these-'     "Failing that, we could put you behind the glass. For your own safety of course." Lilian flips her hair and keeps walking.     'You know, I've never actually been to a rock show before, but I had-- have, actually-- a friend who's really into crystals and that kind of magicky-stuff. Is that the kind of magic crystals we're looking for, Matilda? Like, rose quartz and success in love, and all that?'     "Oh, is this like where you got your interest in astrology?" Lilian asks, with genuine interest. At least it appears to be. She's making eye contact and everything. "I wasn't aware that anyone had any interest in magic within an upbringing like yours. I'm curious what the usual subjects were, now."
Ozhira	The museum steward leads most of the folks off to look at rocks, leaving Ozhira in the fossil displays for a bit longer. > "Shut up. Stop talking. You should be behind glass, as quiet and still as all of these-"     "We were, once," Ozhira addresses Mesmer, but their eyes are already drawn back up to the skeletal mammoth, "When we were small. We escaped. We sought." Their head turns just slightly as Mesmer leans, "We became."     "We became this. We became Ozhira," The beast turns in place and steps past Mesmer to join the others in the education room, "What have you escaped? What do you seek? What will you become? We do not know. Do you know?"     They pause just before leaving. Ozhira doesn't look back-- they technically don't have to-- "You do not have to-- worry about us." In the song of their thoughts, various murmurs and whispers carry through, including words like 'Bitter', 'Foul', 'Toxic', and 'Unpleasant'. Does the Devourer think Mesmer tastes too bad to be worth a bite?     They transition into the education room and, fairly quietly, browse through the fossils and bones and impressions of leaves and invertebrates. Eventually they come to a stop before a case displaying fossils of ancient sea life, examining the contents closely.
Lilian Rook	'But what's your favorite kind of rock? Do you got one?'     What a bizarre and asinine question. Lilian should make fun of Regulus for asking Matilda that.     "You've already named it." Lilian says, hooking a thumb under her pendant chain, so that it slides out from under her collar and dangles in the light. "It'd be ridiculous to turn my back on cold iron after all it's done for me, after all." Apparently she's just sincerely engaging it now. Regulus has earned that much, apparently, after having sincere opinions on alchemical texts. Or she just likes Matilda.     'I, personally, am fond of the friendliness and familiarity that all varieties of crystalline quartz hold within.'     "What a humble choice." Lilian says, evincing both mild surprise and approval. "So much that it's hard to find fault with, actually. It's a particular sort of craftsman who'll say their preferred material is the easiest one to work with."     Now humming very faintly to herself, Lilian removes her sketchpad from her bag, and pencil in hand, starts idly drawing the table layouts, in a way that seems similar to writing appraisals and quotes if you take her posture and atmosphere very seriously and don't actually look. When Matilda or Petra (or even Regulus, really) make an especially photogenic pose looking over them, they suddenly show up sketched into the scene, faithfully yet atemporally, like a hand-done photoshop.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Even Regulus stands opposed to robbing a small museum, so Madeleine relents with a little wave of her hand, just before Russell shows up. He doesn't seem to have overheard, thank god.     Sure enough, the rock show has a section of a table dedicated to magnetite and other ferrimagnetic rocks. Specimens run from an inch or two across all the way to a big polished fist-and-a-half-sized chunk priced at eighty dollars. Madeleine wanders up behind Matilda at the table, incidentally on her way from one group of fossils to the next. "Found what you're after? I've still got some cash, if you need that big one there."     "It'd be ridiculous to turn my back on cold iron after all it's done for me, after all."     "Is cold iron really still a rock?" Madeleine asks. "It's been smelted and all that, right?"
Ivy Carrow	"Do you know about that?"     "Absolutely," She said, turning to Regulus. "There's not a lot of overlap with the Director's swordwork, though--my blade is much shorter, and my techniques require keeping one hand free--But you can't help but appreciate someone who knows their craft!"     Ivy soaks in the atmosphere gladly, this kind of run-down, side-of-the-highway place, with relics scattered all about, lends her step a certain bounce. "Well, I think it's charming!" She says, at Matilda notes her disapproval. "But maybe you should show me what a real museum looks like, someday?"     She nods along with Matilda's analysis of crystals, though her own experience was much more limited to a more sanquine perspective. "What role will magnetite play in the ritual?" Ivy asked, with gentle interest. She considered, snap-snapping her fingers. "Come to think of it..." She mused, slowly. "Didn't they used to use them in compasses?"
Petra Soroka	> How did Petra learn how to cook?     Petra takes a while to actually place when she would've learned, with all of her memories not involving Lilian from before this year being varying levels of fuzzy. Eventually she decides that the first time must've been experimenting with it in the Instrumentality Foundation, and then having to pick up doing it more when she was in high school on Earth.     "Right, right, yeah. I remember now. I kind of, like, dabbled in going vegetarian when I was, like, twelve or thirteen, and my mom and dad thought that was stupid and, like, it'd be too much effort for them to cook stuff just for me. I dropped it pretty quickly though. And then later, in the Watch, I had to cook for Remee, who was literally the opposite of a vegetarian." "No, no, I have, actually, brought, ah-hem, quite a few charms of that material with my person!"     "Oh, dang, so you have-- wait, wait, so it *is* that kind of crystal magic?" Petra's trip to the museum keeps getting better, as she excitedly realizes that she even has vaguely-remembered magic-relevant knowledge to talk about. Hands behind her head, she purses her lips to try and trawl for those years-old facts, before getting distracted again.     "Wait, wait! Wait! You have that much rose quartz on you? Is that *for* luck in love? Is that for *someone*, huh?" She's *starving* for Elites to be romantically-inclined literally at all! This Sector is a wasteland of love! "Er, but Ms. Petra, what manner of usages did your friend practice?" "I wasn't aware that anyone had any interest in magic within an upbringing like yours."     "Oh, uh--! Well, it wasn't functional magic, I think. Not in the way Traditions or arcanist stuff is, at least; just like-- yeah, pattern cosmology."     Being positively questioned infuses a bounce in Petra's step, making her subtly restless for an overflow of energy. She circles around tables, squats down to read little placards, leans in close to peer at little details of fossils, spilling over with superfluous movements.     "It was-- hold on, lemme..." Petra pours out a palmful of Silver from her bottle, and then grabs Qetra's hand and pulls it up and out. She hooks a finger through the bracelets around her reflection's wrist, slipping them off her and putting them on her own wrist. They're an eclectic mix of a half-dozen radically different bracelets that don't go together at all, some with carved wooden beads, some with brass and silver, and others that are crystal charms like Matilda's. She pokes her finger at them to separate them out and show off the stones.     "I mentioned her yesterday too, actually. Valerie, my friend from space. She thought all that crystal stuff was super cool, and even if magic wasn't real, it was nice to sort of... believe in it enough to kind of manifest it being real, at least between the two of us. She's actually the reason why I know anything about cryptids and stuff too; same reason."     Petra puffs out air, blowing some stray hairs out of her face. "I keep saying 'was'. I'm actually talking to her again, though. It's just hard to get used to."     Poking through the crystals on her wrist and saying the names out loud, there's selenite, obsidian, smoky quartz, rhodonite, and even some rose quartz. It's a surprisingly familiar set of crystals for both Lilian and Matilda's purposes specifically, though there's a smattering of emotional purification and relationship type crystals like morganite thrown in with them, with an overall mystic sense of clarity and companionship.
Petra Soroka	"When we were small. We escaped."     Petra muses on this, "Some Night at the Museum shit. Maybe we should tell this guy to reinforce the glass." She narrows her eyes. "Wait, which museum did you come from? Should we be putting you back there?" "But what's your favorite kind of rock?"     Petra has decided this question is for her, too! "I mean, I'm kind of biased towards clear quartz too for obvious reasons, I think. Not that I've really had any reason to update my opinions on crystals in the past few years, but I always thought it was cute how there were some crystals that had cleansing properties for other crystals." "Of course, the answer to that is the same as the answer to which is best- my favorite could, of course, only be the best choice, as I, myself, am the best!"     "Then that's two votes," Petra adds, smugly, as if there's a competition going on. "I dunno how crystals in divination stuff works, though, besides their associations with cosmology patterns though. Like, are there different crystal ball materials? Do you have a bag full of a dozen different crystal balls?"     A minute after she asks that question, she seems to come to her own conclusion, announcing it like she's very proud of herself for getting a good grade in magic. "Oh, like, magnetite for the magnetic poles of the Earth getting tugged around by all this whatever?" "But maybe you should show me what a real museum looks like, someday?"     Petra squints at Ivy with some vaguely uncertain level of hostility. "Huh? This is a real museum. What are you trying to imply? Are you really expecting some college volunteer museum in fuckoff nowhere to be decorated like the fucking Louvre?" That Lilian criticized the decor earlier goes unmentioned.
Regulus	''Fond of the friendliness and familiarity that all varieties of crystaline quartz hold within ... My favorite could, of course, only be the best choice, as I, myself, am the best!'' Okay, Regulus thinks, that should make this easy. Crystalline quartz is easy enough to identify. "You got good taste then!" She says, figuring that's probably true. ''What have you escaped? What do you seek? What will you become? We do not know. Do you know?'' Regulus feels a mix of sympathy (for being under glass) and disgust (for throwing it into Mesmer's face). Regulus doesn't LIKE Mesmer but she... is increasingly uneasy about throwing the constraints of the Foundation back at Vertin's classmates. They were practically raised by the Foundation. "It's a little early for probing questions about identity, don'tcha think?" She asks, in an attempt to deflect. She can't read the minds of a hive, so she doesn't end up getting more forceful about it just yet. ''It'd be ridiculous to turn my back on cold iron after all it's done for me, after all.'' Regulus hesitates. Lilian was the one who told her about a song about a kid finding refuge with a fairy in the woods, didn't she? "Glad it's working out for you." She says. "Everyone knows my favorite rock, of course--but, er, in terms of literally so..." The reason for the asinine question might be clear in that Regulus is just not as invested. "I don't know if it's my favorite, but obsidian's got a wild vibe despite being simple to look at." ''Even Regulus stands opposed to robbing a small museum'' Regulus is, honestly, a little opposed to robbing a small museum for reasons beyond it upsetting Matilda. This isn't like the Louvre or the British Museum, there doesn't even seem to be real security or anything. Taking Matilda's answer into question she moves about the rock show and draws out her wallet and counts her life savings. She'd been saving up for a Matilda divination, sort of (she occassionally forgot and bought records) but sixty whole us dollars (approximately) counting up all the coinage, bills, and so on. She, of course, tries to hide this examination from Matilda, though not too hard, because she's like a diviner right? She must already know what she's going to do. Maybe Matilda, Regulus thinks, knows everything that she's going to do today but maybe she can pull the blindfold onto fate this time. Heh heh... Be surprised, Matilda, Regulus thinks, I will defy expectations heh heh heh... ''There's not a lot of overlap with the Director's swordwork.'' Regulus's glazed over eyes as Ivy explains her own swordsmanship a little is helpfully hidden by the sunglasses. She nods once and then shakes her head quickly as if snapping out of a daze.
Regulus	''Petra answers too!'' Regulus will never learn that her question was asinine because everybody is answering it! That means it was a good question! Way to go, Regulus! You're winning again! ... ACtually, Regulus has been winning enough lately that she's a little worried something's going to go terribly wrong. Maybe not today, maybe later, she's not sure what it's going to be but some calamity is going to happen just to be mean to her. She exhales out slowly to prepare her mind and body for the inevitable betrayal of fate (still blindfolded). "Yeah I guess I hadn't really had to think about it much." She sighs, longingly, when will she be reunited with her beloved philosopher's stone that was totally hers and only somewhat stolen. She can't help it, all this talk about rocks makes her think about the one she was trying to hold onto. Regulus attempts to subtly and unobtrusively examine a small piece of ferruginous quartz. She examines the price tag before she approaches Russell Hawley and offers him the messy bunch of dollars and coins into his hands, all small denominations and including at least one halfpenny (from 1957). "You got like a chain or something?" She asks him as well.
Lilian Rook	'Is cold iron really still a rock? It's been smelted and all that, right?'     Lilian narrowly weighs whether to roll her eyes and call Madeleine stupid, or eagerly explain one of her favourite little factoids for the umpteenth time. A battle of epic proportions wraps up inside of her head within two seconds of staring, and she settles on a vaguely teacherly tone. "The term 'cold iron' comes from far back into runic languages predating English. Before the proliferation and subdivision of vocabulary, 'iron' meant all hard metals, and 'north' was synonymous with 'cold' amongst others. It's only through poor translation that 'north-metal' was passed down as 'cold iron', as if that means anything." A beat later. "And of course iron is a rock. It's a base element. You're thinking of steel."     'my blade is much shorter, and my techniques require keeping one hand free'     Lilian zones out for a second, briefly contemplating how easily amused she's become ever since The Event.     'my mom and dad thought that was stupid and, like, it'd be too much effort for them to cook stuff just for me.'     'then later, in the Watch, I had to cook for Remee, who was literally the opposite of a vegetarian.'     Lilian frowns. This story sucks, actually. "Have you ever lived with anyone who actually respects you?" she says, very hypocritically. Well, mostly. "My condolences for your worthless cohabitants."     'Wait, wait! Wait! You have that much rose quartz on you? Is that *for* luck in love? Is that for *someone*, huh?'     Lilian's sharp breath in can only come across as 'Yes! Yes!! Someone else!' She all but puts her arm around Petra's shoulder, leaning right in to conspiratorially whisper "Tamamo and I have been talking about it! I've been trying to set her up for weeks even! It's super obvious, but she's set her sights on someone legendarily dense like that, so it's this whole production-- Like, you wouldn't think Matilda knows what she's doing, but she actually sort of does, which just makes it kind of fascinating to watch?"     'I mentioned her yesterday too, actually. Valerie'     Lilian, currently leaning in to examine the bracelets more closely, suddenly wears a look of troubled recognition. "Haven't I heard about . . . ?" Lilian begins, before deciding that she's confabulating names with a non-negligible level of confidence. "No, I suppose most of our interests are inherited from the people around us, aren't they?" Lilian says. The two sentiments are a surgical splice to pretend she was thinking about something else. "Especially while growing up. We leave the marks of our passions on others, and they leave theirs on us. I've always liked that way of thinking about carrying that will, from that snapshot in time, forward with us into the future." she says, smiling, knowing full well that Petra is aware that she had zero friends before her middle teens, but that nobody else here is.     'I keep saying 'was'. I'm actually talking to her again, though. It's just hard to get used to.'     "Wait seriously?" That news takes her so out of it that she forgets what she was about to say on the subject of colloquial crystal-isms. "Oh my goodness that's-- that's good isn't it? That's incredible news. How long ago? Did it really never come up?"     'I don't know if it's my favorite, but obsidian's got a wild vibe despite being simple to look at.'     "Did you know they used to use that for scalpels?" Lilian says. She's probably just trying to make conversation. "Amongst other things. It's actually still preferable than machined metal for a lot of them, funny enough." She's still thinking of scalpels. Freak.
Ivy Carrow	"Huh? This is a real museum. What are you trying to imply?"     Ivy regarded Petra's squint with a somewhat baffled tilt of her head, like an animal that had walked into a clear glass pane and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "I said I found it charming," Ivy said, "But invited them to show me one that they liked better?"     "I'd be a hypocrite If I judged everything coming out of a little college system like this like it was worthless." She turned, looking into one of the rocks. She wondered if they had any heliotrope... "And I'll bet most things here are local, too." She said, like it was a self-evident good. "A picture of its own history..."
Ozhira	> "Wait, which museum did you come from? Should we be putting you back there?"     Ozhira chirps towards Petra, "A place in Siberia. In the cold. It was-- underground." They glance up from the sea life fossils for sale, imitating a thoughtful expression, "It was where we were given, our name. There is-- no one there to return to, now." Museums aren't typically underground, it's fairly easy to discern they mean a lab. And if everyone is gone, they're probably super dead. > "It's a little early for probing questions about identity, don'tcha think?"     "Ah," Ozhira's face angles down, back to the rock impressions in front of them, "We apologize."     With one hand, the Beast collect an impression of an Anomalocarid's fin lobes, probably from a nearby shale quarry or the like. Turning it over in their grip, they let out a thoughtful noise. The myriad voices of their aggregate identity chatter cheerfully about the specimen, in equal amounts admiration and curiosity, only interrupted with that louder, deeper, primal sapience rumbles uneasily. They put it back down.
Foundation Scions	'But maybe you should show me what a real museum looks like, someday?'     "Can you not simply... go to one?" Matilda gives Ivy a confused look- it's not as if she's opposedto the prospect of showing people cool museums, but she has like, three jobs to be doing! And so little vacation time! And as far as she can tell, Ivy's whole career involves travelling to cool places! "Of course, I would make an excellent tour guide, but..." If Sonetto was asking, she'd throw herself at the opportunity! But Ivy is just kind of a nice stranger! 'Failing that, we could put you behind the glass. For your own safety of course.'     Mesmer's lip curls, her foot taps- and she doesn't argue it. "It hardly would matter so far as there's a barrier like that. It's not as if there's anything more I'd need to entertain myself that can be found out here, and not in a glass case." She's agreeing, she isn't arguing, and she can't not sound still mad at Lilian for saying it. 'We were, once,'     "I can't in good faith recommend regressive behavior patterns- but, go back to that. Go back to being away from me- just get back, away, in general?" It's like she lost track of her words halfway through and just wants to throw up, instead. 'It's a little early for probing questions about identity, don'tcha think?'     "What?" 'Wait, wait! Wait! You have that much rose quartz on you? Is that *for* luck in love? Is that for *someone*, huh?'     "Hmph! Ms. Petra, do take care in remembering that I am, of course, French- such things as romance and love I would not need luck in, even were I not also an expert diviner-" Matilda coughs- "But, erm, yes, that is why, and perhaps it would be wise to acquire more, here today... er, as there *is* such a convinient opportunity, and one can never be too prepared!" Oh so she's having bad luck with someone.
Foundation Scions	'What role will magnetite play in the ritual?'     "Lodestone magnetite, er, the part that is magnetized, possesses a unique quality of memory of geolocation! Er, in a sense, though it is not as if I am doing such a thing as asking the rock a question," She does that with her crystal ball, the full please and thank-you, actually, "But because of it, it is a most suitable material for the divination of relative locations! As such, it will serve as the catalyzing link, of which I am most certain, to the stolen central-point of the country!" Halfway through, as to the mission statement, she hushes up. 'What a humble choice.'     "But of course! I, Matilda Bouanich, am simply the best at being humble!" Matilda is drinking up the praise at her favorite- it *is* a humble type of crystal, but it's an honest favorite! The colors, the size of the crystals, the charming hexagonal taper-shape to them, the formations and compounded pairings, and, of course, in the likes of her own orbuculum, the clarity, of course she'd be fond! "Of course, the smooth-gem quartzes, the jaspers and agates, those are, too, quite excellent, but to compare those to an excellent clear quartz, or a node of majestic amythest? Tsk! Nuh-uh, there is a clear better form."     "Ah? Magnetite, is it..? What a curious choice of favorite, Ms. Rook! It is, I suppose, a quite reliable material! Ah-hem, after all, today, *I* will be relying on it-!" Matilda holds up a palm-sized lodestone she's investigating to purchase, as if to demonstrate, then quickly puts it back down because she has not actually purchased it yet. 'I mean, I'm kind of biased towards clear quartz too for obvious reasons, I think.'     Matilda hums and nods in agreement, thinking of entirely different so-called obvious reasons. 'Do you have a bag full of a dozen different crystal balls?'     "Hmph! That would be far too heavy- no, er, I only carry the one, but it is a refined approach to utilize myriad focus mediums! But, with the way rounded clear quartz serves, to catch and refract the comforting beams of celestial light, from the likes of the Moon herself, nothing more obfuscating could do for me, most often!' 'Found what you're after? I've still got some cash, if you need that big one there.'     "Oh-? Well, in that case, yes! That is, actually, the material piece I need!" It isn't but she wants it and doesn't want to pay for it. Quickly, Matilda starts to pick up other quartzes, jades, and crude opals, to spend her actual pocket money on. Later on in the car ride, with bits of wire cording she's stashed in her bags, she'll be winding frames and bracelets out of the small crystals she collects, and pass them out- 'for good luck', but also as little mementos, and for the kudos of giving cute objects out.
Foundation Scions	'Did you know they used to use that for scalpels?'     "The tendency for the knapping to flake in them is overblown. In matters of surgery with arcane afflictions and physiologies that are disagreeable with the presence of metal, they're invaluable, and that manner of procedure occurs frequently enough to not count it on fingers. It's a simpler texture in use, as well." Mesmer shrugs- "The sterilization procedures are more of a chore. Disposal adds up, and the manufacturing techniques are... lacking, in the current era. Too bad it's only the material on sale here today."     She's jumping on the scalpel topic-line in an unwholesome way. Someone stop her.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	As the day advances, other people begin filtering into the museum and rock show, picking over the tables for choice shiny stones. The fossils are more popular than the minerals, generally speaking, but the tables' contents dwindle over the course of the morning.     Maddie listens intently to Lilian's explanation of cold iron. "Oh, yeah, I guess that *would* be steel," she mutters. Then, properly aloud, "Neat!"     Finding herself next to Ozhira by way of examining the Cambrian fossils, Madeleine tries to strike up a conversation. "You don't seem like much of a 'collector', of things at least," she says, "but if there's something you want I can probably spot you a twenty."     "Oh-? Well, in that case, yes! That is, actually, the material piece I need!"     Madeleine nods, picks up the stone, then winces a little when she turns it over and reads the price tag. She does, however, pull out her wallet and count some bills - just enough for the big stone, plus a little something if Ozhira wants a souvenir.     "You got like a chain or something?"     Russell nods as he counts out the payment, dollar by dollar. "Yes, of course, of course." He reaches into a jar next to the cash box and pulls out a leather cord with little clasps on either end, perfect for a necklace. Madeleine is next in line, and before paying for the big piece of magnetite she leans over to look at Regulus's purchase. "Ooh, nice find," she comments.     It's around midday when the group leaves the rock show and returns to the van. Madeleine gets the A/C running but doesn't pull out of the parking lot just yet. "Got enough space back there to consult the orb?" she asks Matilda. "If not I can probably find us a park, we can act like we're having a picnic or something while you do your thing."
Petra Soroka	"But invited them to show me one that they liked better?"     Petra tilts her head right back at Ivy, more wary than baffled. "Them? Anyways, 'charming' is, like, fucking demeaning, if you follow it up with implying that it's not a real museum. It's fucking condescending." She's going to bat for this random museum, it seems! "Everyone knows my favorite rock, of course--but, er, in terms of literally so..."     Petra decides that she's going to gift Regulus the concept of fire to see what she does with it. "Actually, in the future, there's a billion different genres of rock. Like how there's tons of different kinds of jazz. It's just an umbrella category."     She hesitates. "Actually, tons of them were first sort of coming into existence in the decade after your timeline exploded, so not even that far into the future. You really got yanked out of there before any of the cool stuff happened, huh?" "Have you ever lived with anyone who actually respects you?"     Petra winces. "Er-- I mean, Val, I guess." The awkwardness there isn't from Petra doubting that Val respected her, but from reflecting on the fact that if this question was asked to Val instead, Petra definitely wouldn't be on that list. "But, I mean, my parents just figured it was just a phase, so they shouldn't bother. And they ended up right, I guess."     "Remee was a fucking dogshit-- pun not intended-- roommate, though. The cooking was the least of it. She actually did cook, but all she did was make piles of burned but still raw meat, and after months of just ramen and convenience store snacks, I was literally dying for healthy food. She tried to tranquilize and kidnap me, actually. Have I ever mentioned that?" "How long ago? Did it really never come up?"     "Oh, uh..." Petra fiddles with her phone, not looking at it but flipping it vaguely nervously between her fingers. "The last time I went to Io, we talked. I guess it never came up because, well, I kind of felt awkward about bringing up the Beauty of Ash at all even, and then that's like, well everyone has to meet the Beauty of Ash, but no one really cares about people they won't ever meet."     Tense for abstract reasons even though she's still very happy, both about her environment and the subject matter, Petra crosses her arms and looks down at whichever crystal happens to be in front of her. "It's a little awkward. We don't really have as much in common as we used to, obviously. But..." She sighs heavily, releasing her tension and dropping her bunched-up shoulders. "But it's really nice, actually. I kind of thought that was gonna be the last time we'd talk."
Petra Soroka	"Like, you wouldn't think Matilda knows what she's doing, but she actually sort of does, which just makes it kind of fascinating to watch?"     Petra gasps quietly, fists held up together below her face in barely contained excitement. In the gossip sided huddle, looking back at Matilda, "That's so fucking cute. So, like, she's actually *pursuing* him? Is he worth anything? Should I help? Oh my god I wanna root for her so hard all of a sudden. Fucking *finally*!" "Ms. Petra, do take care in remembering that I am, of course, French- such things as romance and love I would not need luck in, even were I not also an expert diviner-"     "No no no no no, I understand completely." Petra returns to Matilda with absolutely delighted reassurance, waving away her defenses. "I mean, 'luck' was just misspeaking anyways. Wooing someone is part of love, right? It's, like, a journey!"     "So," Petra folds her arms on top of a glass display case, propping up her elbows with her cheek in her palm. Eagerly, "Tell me about it!" "But, with the way rounded clear quartz serves, to catch and refract the comforting beams of celestial light, from the likes of the Moon herself, nothing more obfuscating could do for me, most often!"     "Actually, you know, I think I get it. I don't do any magic, but I guess that just makes sense intuitively?" Petra gesticulates around vaguely, cupping her hands to try and clarify what she means physically. "The crystal ball's, like, a centerpiece, to be a lens that absorbs and focuses the astronomical and specific crystal stuff into a coherent vision or something, right? No, I get it. That's why it couldn't be anything but quartz."
Regulus	''We apologize.'' ''What?'' "Nevermind." Regulus says. ''Did you know they used to use that for scalpels?'' "Oh shit, really? I had no idea." Regulus admits. "That's a cool factoid to learn. I just thought it looked cool. I wonder how they got in their head to try it out over something else." Regulus is actually not really sure about the chain. Regulus just thinks a souvenir might be nice, but it's possible that she'd rather the rock to remain pure? She has no idea, but she'll put it in the bag seperately for now. ''Ooh, nice find.'' "Ssh..." Regulus whispers to Madeleine. "It's a secret...!" ''There's a billion different genres of rock.'' "There's were a lot back even in the 1960s... I've got so much catching up to do. I can only imagine what I've got to catch up on." She seems, perhaps predictably, a bit dizzied by the idea of tryin to catch up on like sixty years of genre, but she's got some determination! ''Before any of the cool stuff happened, huh?'' "Plenty of stuff in my time was cool too! Sure it's natural for the genre to evolve and shift over time, it all builds on itself! I'm gonna catch up..." She pumps her fist not holding the bag into the air, the bag on her arm dangling dangerously before she remembers to put the little gift bag inside there for later. "But yeah, I'm still partial to 'classic' rock. I'll never betray Jimi... But, hey, if you've got some reccs I'd definitely check 'em out, love."
Lilian Rook	'It hardly would matter so far as there's a barrier like that. It's not as if there's anything more I'd need to entertain myself that can be found out here, and not in a glass case.'     This is the second, or perhaps third, time that Mesmer has leakily admitted to Lilian being right and then getting mad about it. Even she can blurrily identify a pattern like that. That hardly means she has any idea what to do with that information. "I suppose you'd know better than me." is her lightly stunned response, as she endeavours to smoothly proceed with everything else but that. "It must get-- No, never mind."     'Hmph! Ms. Petra, do take care in remembering that I am, of course, French'     Lilian snickers just a little, but then turns down to her sketchbook again with the residual glow of a smile on her face, rendering Matilda and Petra in the midst of their exuberant chatter on a new page. Gesticulations included, and embellished.     'Ah? Magnetite, is it..? What a curious choice of favorite, Ms. Rook!'     "It's what Night Mist is made out of." Lilian says, eyes mostly down on her sketch, but occasionally glancing up for reference. It's actually sort of a bad habit for an artist, but she's doing it on purpose. She also doesn't remember that she was five feet from Matilda while she was sleeping with her sword. "The raw form is certainly nothing special, but when you get just the right piece and polish it down to that glossy black sheen; really, even if it hadn't saved my life two dozen times over, I'd still be a fanatic for the striking visual appeal alone." Lilian says, just a tiny bit greasonously. "After all, I hardly think that 'straight from the ore' is the only valid way to appreciate crystals."     'Hmph! That would be far too heavy-'     "And that one isn't?" Lilian says, offhandedly, then pauses, doubling back. "Oh my god do you have biceps under there actually?"     'Oh-? Well, in that case, yes! That is, actually, the material piece I need!'     Lilian considers how important it is that she, the rich person, buys nice things for Matilda. A second later, she decides 'not very', because it'd look lame after Madeleine already offered, and frankly, Madeleine should be paying her to be here. Back to drawing.     'The tendency for the knapping to flake in them is overblown. In matters of surgery with arcane afflictions and physiologies that are disagreeable with the presence of metal, they're invaluable, and that...'     Lilian's pencil stops moving. She tells herself about thirty times not to look, and then does anyways. Chewing on her lower lip, her eyes go glassy at the length and detail at which Mesmer continues, to the point Lilian begins wondering if her sudden disinhibition stems from exhaustion, or if she should--     Nope. Think something else. "I admit, I'm surprised you have such extensive opinions on the matter of physical surgery." she says, a little too neutral about it. "I'm suddenly reminded of my discussion with Master Xiaogong Fu." That's as diplomatic she can be without revealing her own power level.     'Er-- I mean, Val, I guess.'     "How would you know if they were right?" Lilian snaps, then intentionally gentles her tone. "That's not 'just parent things'. That's them not taking you seriously as a growing human being." says the girl with by far the most catastrophically awful parents in the room. "Of course Halycon was a travesty in every way. The idea of people who are deeply embarrassing by one side of their work but are different, even admirable people beneath the surface, is nothing more than a myth, native to the 'impossible to like, mediocre men' tribe."
Lilian Rook	'The last time I went to Io, we talked. I guess it never came up because...'     Lilian carefully modulates the frown she wants to make into a melancholy smile. "I still think it's wonderful. It's not as if you were under an obligation to divulge it or anything. It just makes me happier to know that you had the opportunity to pick up some of those old pieces and find a new place for them. Even if they aren't the same, it's just sad to leave them behind forever."     'That's so fucking cute. So, like, she's actually *pursuing* him? Is he worth anything? Should I help? Oh my god I wanna root for her so hard all of a sudden. Fucking *finally*!'     Lilian is going to let Petra believe, for as long as she can, that she's finally escaped the disaster lesbianverse. Lilian would love to believe that too. "She's so . . . I don't know, 'rootable-for', right?"     'I wonder how they got in their head to try it out over something else.'     "I'd assume because it was available before anyone figured out steel? You can just find it in the sand in places."
Ozhira	> "Go back to that."     "We will not," Ozhira answers simply.     They do eventually purchase something, though not a fossil; a little ceramic trilobite encased in amber-colored epoxy, about the six centimeters across, rounded and polished on top. A simple keepsake.     During the van ride out of town while others talk about divination, Ozhira spends a fair amount of the drive just looking at it, sitting in the palm of their hand. Their expression is rather neutral, perhaps mostly just curious. Do they recall hunting these in some ancient bygone age? Or are they merely enthralled by straightforward shape and overlapping body segments that comprise the charmingly simple form of the humble trilobite?
Foundation Scions	'"I suppose you'd know better than me.'     "In most things, yes. I know." If you asked her what the topic was she'd pull a blank. Mesmer looks like she's about to fall over and crash for ten hours. How is her baseline function to snark? 'I admit, I'm surprised you have such extensive opinions on the matter of physical surgery.'     Case and point- blearly sounding, eyes squinted in judgement, her incomprehensible answer is "Who doesn't?" Somehow, she's interpreting that surprise as a claim that holding that opinion, as a surgeon, is an incoherent act- she's being pointlessly defensive at things that aren't blows. "It's not a strongly held one. If metal wasn't suitably appropriate still, it wouldn't be used. But, there's nuance. You should try to notice the difference." Has she confabulated a world in which Lilian is a surgeon? Surgeons are usually the only ones she hears talk about scalpels. Seriously, Mesmer Jr. Should Not Be Awake Right Now. She even yawns, wincing and covering her mouth with the back of her hand in the action, and having to lean against a wall for support. 'I mean, 'luck' was just misspeaking anyways. Wooing someone is part of love, right? It's, like, a journey!'     With a slight twinge of pained cope, Matilda nods- "Of course! Not that luck is to be trifled with- but, but! Yes! Not only is it a journey to woo, and a part of love's entirety, it is the premier and perhaps the most individually important part! Without it, there would be nothing of what follows!" Matilda wants what follows instead. 'Tell me about it!'     "Ah..." Wistful, and far cheesier than even Petra can pick apart given the stupid pun she's really making, "'Like poetry', is, of course, the only phrase that I could give to you! Ah-hem, but, it is only natural, with one so long-known, so noble, and with excellence to match my own, so *bright*, and yet-" With pained frustration, "*So* blind to one as *clearly* suitable as I, the emotion can only be as complex and indecipherable as the most favored of romantic poetry... Ah, comme c'est magnifique, mais, quelle tragédie..."     She's such a goober. 'And that one isn't?'     "Hm? Well, yes, it is quite heavy- but seventeen kilograms is less weight than you would expect, if you hold it correctly! It's a simple matter!" No wonder she often has to hug it when moving with it. 'The raw form is certainly nothing special, but when you get just the right piece and polish it down to that glossy black sheen;'     "Mm-hm, there certainly is much appeal to it! Like the smoothest of nighttime rained-upon roads, or high-up haze in the pre-morning twilight..." Matilda likes rocks. Big points to have high opinions on rocks, in her book. 'The crystal ball's, like, a centerpiece, to be a lens that absorbs and focuses the astronomical and specific crystal stuff into a coherent vision or something, right? No, I get it. That's why it couldn't be anything but quartz.'     Matilda is *so* excited that Petra gets it. "Oui- yes! It most certainly could be not anything but quartz! Would you, by any chance, wish to watch the proceedings, when I preform this next seeing? Not to brag, but it is most spectacular!" She is biased.
Foundation Scions	. . . 'Got enough space back there to consult the orb?'     Matilda looks upset at the prospect of potentially having to preform her ritual in the back-seat of a van, even after just having piled in and dutifully strapped herself in with the seatbelt- "I... could make it work, but, surely, Ms. Cadrasteia, a brief sidetrack to a park would be more suitable! It will not take long, and, most likely, it will ensure less time later is wasted for disclarity!"     As requested, once the van pulls into a spot of parkland, Matilda makes good on creating a not-quite picnic. The soumak-woven tablecloth often serving as the base for her divination ensemble, beneath the stand of her crystal ball, serves plenty well as a ground-covering blanket, even if it will be a process to clean dry grass fragments from- and though it is bright outside, in the shade of a tree, and with a hint of fog conjured by a small-spoken incantation, which slowly shifts instead to the twilight matching the moment stars first twinkle in the night, Matilda kneels down around the orb, and sets a handful of travel-sized scented candles, likewise incantation-lit.     It's a quiet little affair- a scattering of crystals aside from her focal orbuculum, frame, interposed between herself and the ball, the large chunk of magnetite, alongside the photo of the monument from before. "It is not as if the conditions celestial are at all favorable, but... what could be, with the strange distortion of spaces here? It is, of course, no matter! Ah-hem, watch, as the great Matilda Bouanich reveals to you all, the location sought..."     Hand over the crystal, eyes half-lidded, "Oh boule de cristal, révélez-moi l'emplacement du monument volé, s'il te plaît." Quietly, as illusory stars twinkle, the reflected starburst of the scented candles flicker, and the girl's focus sharpens, fog stirs and dances within the orb. Shapes in the motions, geometric and adjoining, form- and split, into a worrisome omen of crowds and fervor. Quietly, in English, Matilda murmurs, "At the adjoining point of four lands, a large group gathers, in ritualic hopes... not close, but not far..."     Four Corners, it seems!     Matilda stays watching, head craned lightly to the side, as the fog starts to abate, before (procedurally, in reverse order that she lit them,) blowing out the candles- the scent of the wick's smoke mixing with sandalwood, jasmine, cedar, and basil. "Ms. Cadrasteia? Does that answer your questions as to next steps?"
Lilian Rook	'In most things, yes. I know.'     Lilian quietly mutters something that clearly involves the words "Except--" and "--find the--" in a very unflattering way.     'Who doesn't? It's not a strongly held one. If metal wasn't suitably appropriate still, it wouldn't be used. But, there's nuance. You should try to notice the difference.'     Lilian pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut while she massages it. Seeing Mesmer cover her yawh summons the intrusive thought of shoving her fingers in her mouth just to wake her up, which results in dropping her fingers to painfully pinch her own cheek. "Perhaps you should lie down in the car." she says, strained.     ''Like poetry', is--'     She does her very best not to cough. Trying to direct the energy elsewhere, Lilian starts trying to sketch Sonetto's glasfeder from memory, pauses, then quickly sketches a rough human outline, and starts at Terra all'Amore at the waist, before moving up through particulars about her uniform that come to mind, working her way to the wrist; only then is she able to actually recall the specifics of the poetic instrument.     'Hm? Well, yes, it is quite heavy- but seventeen kilograms is less weight than you would expect, if you hold it correctly! It's a simple matter!'     "Jesus Christ." Lilian stage whispers. "That's heavier than my sword."     'Mm-hm, there certainly is much appeal to it! Like the smoothest of nighttime rained-upon roads, or high-up haze in the pre-morning twilight...'     Scratchin in the deeper, finalized lines of the glass piece, Lilian taps the butt of her pencil against her lip, trying to imagine how to render the complicated refraction of light through it without the object in front of her. Working without reference is hard. "I wasn't aware you had that sort of eye, Bouanich. What a pleasant surprise. Perhaps you'd like to visit a gallery next?" Lilian says offhandedly, half-thought-through. "Though, in the first place, it is the highest calling of art to first derive from nature, and then to express that naturally formed beauty through the lens of that personal fondness." Nodding to herself, she settles on abstraction rather than realism.
Petra Soroka	"How would you know if they were right?"     "Well-- I mean, I'm not a vegetarian. Maybe I would be if people didn't all hate vegetarians *so* much for some reason, but-- no, I know it's not *good parenting*, or whatever. Everyone's parents kind of suck in some ways, though. I figure I know better than to actually think mine were *bad* though; just sort of lame."     Petra drags her fingers through a box of grab-bag crystals, meant for kids to just pick up one of the velvet bags to the side and stuff as many rocks in as they can for a single price. "I actually started talking to them again too, just a few weeks ago. I figured I probably should if I'm going to, you know," She tugs on her hoodie. "And yeah, you don't need to tell me that Halcyon sucked. I killed her and threw her body into space! Val's definitely the best person I've ever slept with, though-- like, I mean, in the same room or house or whatever. There's not really any contest" "It just makes me happier to know that you had the opportunity to pick up some of those old pieces and find a new place for them."     Lilian's positive reassurance after Petra brings up Val almost completely wipes away the discomfort she had when talking about her. She was making an intentionally labored effort to keep forging through despite her awkwardness in bringing up 'backstory', for all the reasons she described and more. Of all the things that ten thousand years in a time loop made blurry from before the Library, Lilian's words about the 'imbalanced scales' were still crystal clear.     "Er--! It is. Wonderful, I mean. I mean, it was sort of, really bad timing, aha. It was right before the one week war, and then I kind of, didn't really talk to anyone for a month or two, and then it's like, well how the fuck do I even explain that? But I kind of was, just a little stupid I guess, because the way to explain it was to just say it and then keep on talking."     She goes on more animatedly, "Actually, she's got an apartment on Earth now that she goes to sometimes too, in L.A.. Not like it's the same California that I'm going to college in, but it is kind of neat, I think, that some of the locations and stuff are similar. She does, like, DJing and stuff, which is cool. So it's not like we have nothing at all to talk about." "'Like poetry', is, of course, the only phrase that I could give to you!"     Lilian's hopes are dashed against the rocks with the very first words that Matilda gives to Petra to describe the object of her affections. Leaning forwards on the glass case, "Oh my *god*. Girl, I hope you're talking about a woman, because there's no man in the multiverse who deserves that sweet of a description. If she's that dense, don't you think you could just channel that energy right at her to her face? I mean, sure it's appealing to be more clever about it, but there's, uh, a certain kind of woman who'll interpret everything you say to them as friendly without any other meaning. You could literally say 'I want to be your girlfriend' and they'd go 'yessssss girlllllfriend!'" "Would you, by any chance, wish to watch the proceedings, when I preform this next seeing?"     "Hell yeah I would."
Petra Soroka	Petra feels the need to buy something from the cute little rock show before leaving the museum. She digs around to find a nice hazy green chunk of fluorite, holding it up between two fingers to take a picture with the rest of the rock show in the background, Lilian drawing in the corner of the frame. It's sort of like giving a donation, because she doesn't really need it, but she's had more positive experiences today than she usually allots for a month so she's feeling good about museums now.     At the park, Petra excitedly kneels by Matilda's blanket to watch. She's seen Lilian's magic plenty of times, of course, from her simple-seeming temporal magic to her elaborate druidic workings, but it's actually surprisingly rare for her to see someone *setting up* a *ritual*. "Actually, mind if I take a quick picture?"     Petra folds her legs and watches the visions come and go within the crystal ball, quietly fascinated as appropriate for the environment. She can't make any sense of them, but if she could, it'd barely be magic then, right? "Cool.... I've gone to fortunetellers before, but it's hard to say whether any of them were the real deal."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine, sitting cross-legged a short distance away from Matilda, rubs her chin in thought. "That sounds like Four Corners. That's where Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico meet. All at right angles, hence the name. I don't know why they'd want the center to be there, unless they're trying to do something to those states in particular. Ritual hopes, you said? It's not like the place had any specific importance before the state lines were drawn up..." A pause to think. "Well, our next step's to get down there ourselves. We're gaining on 'em, at least. Four Corners is a state and a half away, so we'll probably get there tomorrow."     Back on the road, the atmosphere is blessedly relaxed after the pleasant environs of the rock show, though Madeleine keeps speculating aloud (and with no particular conclusion) as to what the geographical thieves are planning. "If they care so much about state lines, it might be the government after all," is the best she's got for now.     Come evening, however, when the group stops for dinner, Madeleine spends much of the mealtime tapping around on her phone instead of eating. "There's not much news about Four Corners specifically, not that I'm seeing. Except... hold on, this one could be it. It's a video."     She holds up her phone for the others to see. It's displaying a Facebook page by the name of "American Occultists (PATRIOTS ONLY)", with a video already loaded bearing the caption "#fourcorners #sentaylorUT #americaforever". The freeze-frame is of a heavy-set bald man at a podium, filmed from a point of view which appears to be in the third or fourth rank of a densly-packed seating area. He's in the middle of a sentence when the recording starts.     "-to thank everyone for gathering here on this blessed day. As many of you know, America was built on a dream, the dream of our Founding Fathers to have a land for themselves, a land where they and theirs could be free. This American dream has eluded many, especially now in these troubled days. No more, I say! And so say the good people of the America Forever project. By this time tomorrow, everything you see here-" The man pauses for a sweeping gesture across the audience. "-will be just the beginning of a new America, an America where we can realize our Manifest Destiny once again, for all time. America, forever. I'd like you all to join me now in the Lord's prayer to bless this great project of expansion-" the video abruptly ends as the speaker bows his head.     Madeleine rubs one temple with her free hand, evidently a little baffled by the display of gung-ho nationalism. "I think that guy's a senator? Are they trying to- to make the country *bigger*?"
Lilian Rook	'Well-- I mean, I'm not a vegetarian. Maybe I would be if people didn't all hate vegetarians *so* much for some reason'     "I know. Imagine how difficult it would be, to live your life as something that everyone irrationally hates." Lilian says in monotone. "Seeing your child develop an interest and then deciding you can starve it of oxygen and wait them out until they stop having features is just abysmal. Even Alison somehow did better than that." Lilian says. She specifies which parent because even that much is a stretch.     'I actually started talking to them again too, just a few weeks ago.'     "I don't think you should." says Lilian, who remained in contact with her parents literally up until the point that Petra murdered one of them. "I don't know what you could possibly get out of--"     'I killed her and threw her body into space!'     Lilian blinks twice. "Wait, really--"     'Val's definitely the best person I've ever slept with, though--'     Never mind! Brand new rollercoaster! Petra's rambling swerves so violently through Lilian's feelings that they all sort of crash into each other and turn into a ten-car pileup in queue. Working through them in sequence, lightly stunned, Lilian rubs her face once, smearing a bit of graphite on her cheek, and says, "I'm glad?" After a few seconds, she looks at Regulus, and repeats "DJ?" like 'Metal Gear?'.     'Oh my *god*. Girl, I hope you're talking about a woman, because there's no man in the multiverse who deserves that sweet of a description.'     Well . . .     She's not wrong . . .     'If she's that dense, don't you think you could just channel that energy right at her to her face?'     Lilian places her hand on Petra's shoulder, gives her a deeply wistful look, and shakes her head fully within a ten degree arc. The deeply pained look within her eyes contains descriptive pages of all the ways to say 'She does. She does do that.'
Foundation Scions	'If she's that dense, don't you think you could just channel that energy right at her to her face?'     In sync with Lilian's Look, Matilda wilts, not saying anything more but communicating the same despair.     Also, if Matilda wasn't talking about a woman, surely Petra would have been corrected by now. She got it in one, off of the wording. Everyone in the entire universe is a lesbian. 'I wasn't aware you had that sort of eye, Bouanich. What a pleasant surprise. Perhaps you'd like to visit a gallery next?'     "I, in fact, have two eyes, both of the same sort- eyes for detail!" She's proud of herself for that one. "Ah, but- to have an eye for the symbolic relations, it is an important part of the interpretations of the likes of oracular omens, Ms. Rook. An item embodying traits, implies other origins of those traits, color and pattern and emotion..."     Matilda takes a deep breath. "Which type of gallery? That sounds most excellent, of course-! But do you mean that of painted art, or sculpture, or jewel-work and porcelain..?" . . . 'Actually, mind if I take a quick picture?'     "So long as you do not use the 'flash' feature of a camera! I have made that mistake, and, ah, trust me, the glare, it is quite bright... ah-heh..." Matilda does pose for the camera when Petra actually takes the picture. 'Cool.... I've gone to fortunetellers before, but it's hard to say whether any of them were the real deal.'     Matilda sighs- "Yes, it's an unfortunate trend... unverifiable methodologies, or the trends of the unscrupulous to mimic proper arcanum, it is not as if divination has, erm, a particularly trusted reputation- but nevertheless! The art is one most serious and done in earnest! And my divinations, of course, are *perfectly* accurate, too!" 'Well, our next step's to get down there ourselves. We're gaining on 'em, at least. Four Corners is a state and a half away, so we'll probably get there tomorrow.'     It takes Matilda a bit of time to pack up neatly- the candles are reusable, the tablecloth too, each brought-along crystal re-attached to the jewelry they originate, or her bag, for the new ones. Of course, a lot of them will, on the next leg of the journey, wind up made into (somewhat fragile) wire-and-crystal charms, an action she spends car time on instead of reading or just staring out the window- and as they are finished, just as some measure of 'good luck', as she promises, they get distributed to each of the other passengers of the van, keychain-esque and clink-clinking just from the rattle of the vehicle. %