Scene #9616: The Gang Does Kepler-1652b (1)

Owner	Pose
Arthur Lowell	Welcome to the thriftathon. Here in the city of Home, the multicultural smear of dozens of species and planets have created a unique and specific benefit: A thriving secondhand scene! And Arthur needs it. Matter, shaped into furniture, and frequently featuring the noble scratches, price-dropping strains, and ignoble stains, of human contact. Arthur guides folks into Flee Market, a massive knockoff of a much more prestigeous store called Quest Buy (and suspiciously featuring barely-legal derivatives of its iconography). It doesn't have the many blessed swords, amulets, armor, and cloaks though. How do they stay in business, stocking and restocking secondhand furniture, clothes, appliances, and more, in a multiversal context? Well, everyone's gotta run away someday. They sell directly to the market of people attempting to rapidly stock a caravan to flee destruction, because Afterus' natural position as a transit hub and neutral zone means it's the first place fugitive airships, flotillas representing the last of a species, and really anyone trying to make a vehicle liveable as they wander tend to stop by. They can hawk their old stuff (meant for stable living) and get new stuff (meant for running forever)! Quick and modest-expense loading services mean you can be in and out in a few hours with lots of such stuff. Also, though, fantastic for stocking a ship for Arthur's venture to Kepler. Which is why the Derse spaceship is docked just above the squat emporium of things fled with and for fleeing, where exoduses do barter. And it's why Arthur has put out a general request: Come help thrift to stock the boat!
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Explain He is looking at a collection of mugs, sorting the oldest out of them. Specifically looking for the oldest and worst. "'Fenrir Arcologies: There is no god here!'" He reads off it, squinting. "WHAT THE HELL. This thing ANCIENT." He gestures with it to whoever has joined him. "OKAY. We gotta find the MOST TOUCHED stuff. Stuff with CONTACT. HUMAN TRACE. See, keeping the place STABLE when we figure NEW FTL to get over to KEPLER, I'mma need some ROCK-SOLID WAVEFORMS. I want you finding the OLDEST AND WEIRDEST SHIT YOU CAN GET. That's why I'm not just askin' LILIAN to AMAZON a fuckton of GENERIC CHAIRS. Get CLOTHES, get STUFF TO SIT ON, get STUFF TO STORE STUFF, get ANYTHING." He bounces one of the mugs in his hand to punctuate each word. "MORE TRACE, THE BETTER." He checks this mug, now, reading the text superimposed over clip-art of several shrubs surrounding a large tree, advertising a landscaping company: "'GEORGE BUSH DID NJORUN.' Shit dawg, I'll INTERNALIZE THAT." The store interior is clean, but abjectly unenriching. People dump things here en-masse mid-exodus, and some of them stay just to have a job. Nobody here is happy and nothing here is untouched by the hands of both humanity and death. There's a lot of grandma shit. However, it's time to find the worst thrift finds you can to anchor the Kepler expedition. "If we don't find stuff SUPER MATERIALLY AFFIXED you're gonna be turning INSIDE OUT when I try out SPACE WARP SHIT." He asserts.
Angela	Malkuth is chaperoning Netzach and Mikey with the understanding that Angela does not think these two people can successfully thrift responsibly with the Concord Card and thus need a chaperone. As it so happens, Malkuth also thinks they can't thrift responsibly with the Concord Card and so she is escorting them to 'Home' where she is 'Stuck' with this job and already kind of regretting it because she has a little notepad out and a ducky pen and-- ''We gotta find the MOST TOUCHED stuff. ... NEW FTL ... LILIAN to AMAZON ... GEORGE BUSH DID NJORUN.'' Malkuth is doing her best to maintain her composure while also doing her best to take comprehensible notes from Arthur's explanation. "Do you need me to translate yet?" Netzach asks. "DID GEORGE BUSH DO NJORUN??" Mikey asks. "No wait... I'm good at this, I can find weird artsy shit that's old... For I... Am an artist!! I can do this, Malkuth! Believe in me...!" "Ahah..." Malkuth smiles, resting a hand on Mikey's shoulder gently. "Come on, Michael. You know I'll never believe in you." "Oggghh!!" "I'll believe in you, Mikey." Netzach says, which does not improve MIkey's mood in the slightest. Malkuth looks over to Arthur, "So to summarize. You want us to find old and strange furniture and clothes--" She looks to the mug. "Does this extend to silverware? Tableware? Food?" "Well I don't want to turn inside out, but luckily we are pretty old and weird." Netzach considers before looking to Mikey, imagining him inside out for a moment, before dragging him inside to investigate. "Does it have to actually be old? Or is it fine if it just ''vibes'' as old?" "Vibes as old doesn't feel very scientific, Netzach! I am certain there will be evident markers of age on what we are looking for!"
Petra Soroka	A long time ago, Petra used to frequent the thrift hubs of the multiverse for fun. 'Things that already exist' have an appeal that 'things newly made' could never match, when it comes to humankind's vast churn of Products, and in a certain sense, there's an element of whimsical fate to secondhand shopping as well. Petra did not go onto the internet and purchase a shirt that said 'Of Course I Cum Fast, I Got Fish to Catch' newly printed-- she found it in a thrift store, and couldn't possibly refuse it. But this store fucking sucks. Petra frowns at Arthur as he explains, eyeing him and the surrounding shelves with distaste. She's wearing running shorts and a hoodie that says I AM FERVENTLY AGAINST SUICIDE-- another secondhand find, obviously-- mirror pendant around her neck, and an expression that communicates that she wishes that matters of Lilian's continued life weren't subject to this kind of cartoon bullshit like everything else Elites do is. "Is this some, like, quantum shit, or psychic stuff? We don't have to do psychometry on every single thing we pick up or else get entangled with a Simpsons ashtray or something, right?" "'GEORGE BUSH DID NJORUN.' Shit dawg, I'll INTERNALIZE THAT." "Okay, well, shit. Maybe this place is cool." Petra does have a gift for this sort of thing, at least. Within a minute, she's picked up a hand-knitted throw pillow, unbearably scratchy to the touch through the degredation of the fibers. It reads, in blurry yarn and hundreds of asymmetrical sequins, NEWTON IOWA SPEED MILKING CONTEST CHAMPION 2001. "The interior design of your spaceship is going to be fucking lethal, dog."
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: does this extend to tableware? "Gonna have to EAT. I mean, I got some but if you see a good PLATE SET it's gonna go a LONG WAY. Several LIGHTYEARS actually." Arthur asserts. As an example, he picks up a set of fairly large plates. "These look GOOD." He turns them over, seeing a pattern of bleeding equine skulls inset into the ceramic in a tacky way, and then finds them among a set including a little horse-skull-shaped butter pan and a spice rack constructed from replica horse ribs, originating from some sort of combined hyper-futuristic ultra-regressive horse-fascist space empire. "Hmm. No these look BAD actually." He sets them down. > Arthur: Is this some, like, quantum shit, or psychic stuff? "I don't know ANYTHING about PSYCHIC STUFF, I'm just tryin'a get QUANTUMLY DURABLE THINGS. I need some ANCHOR in me if I'm gonna do UNCONVENTIONAL FTL." He explains to Petra. He looks at the pillow, and finds a wretched comforter nearby that seems to have a friendly pattern of colorful combining lions. "Anyway, if it's tons of WEIRD GARBAGE with no COHERENCE then the SPEED OF LIGHT can't get HOOKS on me."
Sarracenia	It has been a long time since Sarracenia had anything to do with Afterus. Longer than she cares to admit amid always present accusations of being old. And even then she didn't learn a lot about his world or even him. So, she is glad to have an opportunity to just kind of...hang out. Sarra loves shopping, so that is also a bonus! Even thrift has its charm. You never know what you might find in such a shop. Ancient artifacts? Cute, uncommon plushies? Fancy jewelry with unique flair? The princess arrives via her own personal wooden aircraft, the Dyna. It's about the size of a private jet, with two sets of wings each sporting rotating propeller engines. Once she has parked beside the Derse, she hops out wearing her usual red royal gown and looks around for Arthur. She finds him at the mugs, though seems somewhat confused by the request. Not so much the actual request, but the reason for it. "How do old, weird, well-used things keep us anchored?" she asks as she starts browsing. She feels pretty confident in her antiquing abilities...based on nothing really. "And who is George Bush? His name suggests he is from Pipeland but I do not recall such a name." She stays close to Arthur so they can talk, but ends up moving toward clothing by instinct. She starts thumbing through them, most of them earning a soft 'ew' or '..what...?' as she sees things that are just too out there for a sheltered princess and too low quality for a snobby princess. "...is this sufficiently old and touched and strange?" she asks Arthur, holding up a black hoodie that says 'My Other Car is the Enterprise' with an old, cracked, faded printing of some odd space ship on it. As others join them, Sarra is surprised to see some of the Library workers here. She doesn't have anything more than a neutral relationship to them, but she offers a slight wave anyway. When she sees Petra's hoodie, Sarra can't help raising an eyebrow in skepticism for a few moments before moving on. The pillow causes more confusion. "They...have contests for such things?"
Tamamo	Tamamo's been out of -- well, not entirely out of the public eye, because she was certainly spotted in Vienna -- and the fuzzy-rimmed jacket, open to show a sweater, is likely from some place a warm Spring has not yet reached -- but this is the closest to a 'business' outing she's been on since the wedding. That might officially mean that the honeymoon's over, but that's likely to be contested as soon as she and Lilian are off Afterus. Still, for obvious reasons, she couldn't really not be involved. 'We don't have to do psychometry on every single thing we pick up or else get entangled with a Simpsons ashtray or something, right?' "Reading the residing sympathetic connections of a piece is a simple matter." It's not! It super isn't! She just happens to have specific powers of connectiveness-reading that apply to this specific situation! In the case of some of the items here, that may be knowledge one would wish to have not had. In any case, it doesn't immediately explain to her what any of these words mean when placed in this order. Picking up a t-shirt of a suspiciously non-factory pattern, and even more suspiciously high-quality fabric, Tamamo holds up I EAT GODS ON TUESDAYS next to No Kings, No Primals and turns to look over her shoulder with a, 'but why is this what it is' look. "It is ever curious what items and, even more so, messages one might most strongly feel in having left behind." Setting them down again -- unless Arthur speaks up in need of weirdly high-quality artisinally handwoven slogan t-shirts, Tamamo tries lifting an oddly wide, backless seat set on top of a pair of oversized gear assemblies, with pipes connecting in the back. She tries, but it's much too heavy. "If an item is a reminder of something difficult that was done, it may take on a value thereby, even if that difficulty was not in its crafting."
Angela	"Understood! Now, Netzach! Mikey! You have your orders." Malkuth is, of course, going to delegate. In short order, Netzach comes back dragging this chair along: https://imgur.com/a/bbKedzo. In this case a picture speaks louder than words. "How's this?" They ask. "Don't ask me, ask Arthur. If it was up to me I'd have that chair burned." Malkuth says, taking a moment to flip Sarracenia off without otherwise acknowledging her. Netzach, however, does give Sarracenia a relaxed enough wave, though Netzach is always trying to be relaxed so that's not really unusual. Mikey returns with a plate that has an image of a woman on it with a closeup of her green eye and a blue border surrounding said plate: https://imgur.com/a/uEMGsNG. "Is this old? I think this is old. And there's a face on it! Normally plates don't have faces on it." "That does feel...old...." Malkuth murmurs, frowning as she taps her lower lip with her ducky pen. "Maybe we should try finding clothes next. If I ask you to do that will you find outfits that don't look like they want to eat me?"
Lilian Rook	§This is so fucking stupid. Everybody is so fucking stupid. The PTSD ASMR space tape told Petra she has to listen to it 'or she'll die!' and she actually believed it. Lowell is going on about something completely fucking incomprehensible and insisting now of all times he can't transgress the speed of light. They all way to go to a planet that was destroyed nearly nine fucking centuries ago, and somehow this necessitates going to this ungodly depressing dead-end hole? Is this a joke? And I still dreaming? Because of fucking particles?! Literally not even particles! A mathematical model using particles to explain something, which wasn't explained! Everyone I know is an idiot! This is the puddingverse! This is the pudding seeping down between the cosmic couch cushions!§ Lilian is, all things considered, maybe a tiny bit scared. Of course she thinks all of this is ridiculous. Petra had absconded with the sentient tape track that Mesmer already stole from her just to get her attention and then suddenly declared that particles were happening, so, mostly, Lilian is grumpy and incredulous and annoyed at being wrapped up another stupid hijink. The memories she has of anything remotely like a 'progressive syndrome' are years old, fully resolved, and deeply unpleasant to think about. She's lived her life ever since with the comfort of obviously observing that it was fixed. She just got married, even! That's how confident she is everything is fine! So it's, you know, maybe a teeny tiny bit scary to think that it isn't. Even if she doesn't seriously believe it. It's precisely because it's such an irrational, unfounded, bothersome little spot of paranoia marring her post-honeymoon mostly-good-time that she has to see this for herself, actually. Yeah. That's it. ''Fenrir Arcologies: There is no god here!'' "Wait that's really funny." That's the first thing since Lilian has said since arriving, who has just shown up ten minutes later than everyone else on purpose. She wiggles her hand at Arthur, says, "Give me that." and then presents it to Petra with opposite corners between her hands. "If we bleached out the arcologies part, do you think it would get a laugh out of Ash?" Okay. So she's not focused on the actual task either. "The hell are these? Earrings? I can't even tell whether these are tacky or sort of cool." 'Shit dawg, I'll INTERNALIZE THAT.' "Don't do that." Lilian frowns. "All scientific evidence points towards the Reality Quakes, remember? I know the idiotic giga-city was named 'New Washington' and everything but--" She slowly closes her mouth, narrowing her eyes at something in the middle distance. "You think--? No. No." 'Gonna have to EAT.' "How long is your godforsaken voyage going to take? I need to know whether I can take a weekend or whether this is going to be the modern Odyssey for clowns." Lilian says. "I'm not going on the latter, to be clear. It'll be me as the last survivor because I'm the one with the wife. That's how the epic goes. I'm not coming back to see my children fully grown." Girl you don't have any! You got married just over a week ago! 'Anyway, if it's tons of WEIRD GARBAGE with no COHERENCE then the SPEED OF LIGHT can't get HOOKS on me.' "I assumed that's how you avoided anything getting its hooks in you ever." Lilian rolls her eyes.
Lilian Rook	'The interior design of your spaceship is going to be fucking lethal, dog.' Now motivated to make this idea look as bad as possible, Lilian takes the opportunity to point Petra to an entire pallet brick of completely identical slutty harem outfits that all have Christmas gift tags still attached. Crouching down to check one, she gasps "Oh my god they all have individual names?!" and starts choking up laughing. "No, hang on, there has to be-- An entire knife rack?!" Lilian instantly scoots over to an artisinally shitty kitchen knife block that is festooned with nothing but the most tryhard-looking custom-ordered daggers, none of which match, all of which are trying very hard to look unique, and which are guaranteed 'Loved by Elites!' "No way!" Okay. Thinking about this as an exercise in making fun of Arthur makes it pretty fun, actually. "Here's something for you! A hubris-powered commsat transceiver from 25AU! You motherfuckers could make excellent use of that, couldn't you?" Hefting a bulky boxed-up radio unit, she scans the stencil at a glance and mouths out 'I lowered my radio volume and all I got was this lousy coup!' followed by "What?"
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: How do old, weird, well-used things keep us anchored? "You ever tried BUYING ART?" Arthur asks Sarracenia, rummaging through the clothes. "You can hook up with an ARTIST and they'll make you GOOD ART in TEN MINUTES. And then they want, like TWO HUNDRED BUCKS for it! Ten minutes of work! But that makes sense." He pulls up a coat that was near Sarra's find, some type of jacket with ship-nacelle-themed sleeves. "Eugh." He tosses it back on the rack. "So, the idea is, you aren't buying TEN MINUTES. You're buying the TEN YEARS of ART PRACTICE and the FOUR YEARS of COLLEGE and the WHOLE THING. Right? WITHOUT THOSE it just fuckin' VANISHES." He replaces his find with some wretched thing that merges medieval fantasy with workshop polo, embroidered for 'MURASAME MECHANICS'. "Hey, this got good insulation." He mutters. "But, see, OBJECTS are like that TOO. S'why I'm getting a SHIP from an OLD WAR and I'm stocking it with STUFF from OLD TIMES." He holds another shirt up to his chest, advertising 'Xiang Antipharmaceuticals'. "FITS." He says. Then, "The stuff that's NORMAL but it's got those TEN YEARS or whatever, if I push it FASTER THAN LIGHT and the SNAPBACK with the KEPLER TRIP tries to turn it INSIDE OUT, then it's gotta pay the TWO HUNDRED. METAPHORICALLY. Are you getting me here? This is so weird to translate out of SPACE MAGIC." > Arthur: How's this? > Arthur: Fondly regard chair "EVIL. I LOVE IT. We'll put it on the DECK." He says, laughing and trying out the seat. He also turns the plate over in his hands. "ON THE WALL, guarantee. Think I KNEW THIS LADY." He sets it into his cart. > Arthur: Regard I EAT GODS ON TUESDAYS shirt He looks at it... almost whistfully? "Damn, I miss Zeal." He mutters, inexplicably. "What kind of GUY is this SHAPE FOR?" He laughs, stowing it, and moving to help her with the gearseat. "Does this shit CRANK TO MOVE...?" But he rambles in reply to what she's saying. "See, you GET IT mostly. I think. You're getting why it would ENDURE, and I'm sayin', I think that'll help make it DURABLE for the NEW FTL I gotta fuck with." > Arthur: How long is your godforsaken voyage going to take? "HONESTLY?" He shrugs vaguely. "NO IDEA. I'm gonna PUSH IT as fast as we can keep COMFY. But I gotta cook NEW FTL for you and I have no idea about TOP SPEED or WHAT. It's gonna be WEIRD. Trust me, I wish I could just do PORTALS without all that RISK." > Arthur: Here's something for you! A hubris-powered commsat transceiver from 25AU! "SHIT GIMMIE THAT, I got so much HUBRIS that it can NEVER RUN OUT OF POWER!!"
Petra Soroka	"I mean, I got some but if you see a good PLATE SET it's gonna go a LONG WAY." Petra opens her mouth to say something, and then pauses. "Oh, yeah. I guess your spaceship would just guaranteed have normal gravity and everything. Alright, sure, silverware too." "I don't know ANYTHING about PSYCHIC STUFF, I'm just tryin'a get QUANTUMLY DURABLE THINGS." "I feel like I don't understand how your magic works at all," Petra asides to him while wandering off into an exploratory orbit. "I think we might be opposites, somehow. In everything." "Reading the residing sympathetic connections of a piece is a simple matter." This is the first time Petra's seen Tamamo since the honeymoon too!! So, seeing her makes the residual cheer from the wedding light up her face again, excited in a distinctly tail-wagging sense. "Hi Tamamo!" And, believing her immediately, because Petra can't actually do psychometry, "Okay!" "It is ever curious what items and, even more so, messages one might most strongly feel in having left behind." "It is, right?" Genuinely enthusiastic about the topic, Petra gravitates vaguely away from Arthur and towards Lilian and Tamamo instead. "Like, you know, the thing that makes this all interesting, is that someone wanted it at some point!" "Sure, even if capitalism creates a middle class in developed worlds that are increasingly alienated from the labor that goes into the objects they use every day," She really did just integrate her academics into her philosophy just like that, huh? "People make up for that by placing a disproportionate amount of their identity into consumerism, so even things they buy easily and thoughtlessly usually say a lot about them. And then there's the more interesting things that are made by hand, or ordered in bulk for some niche event that was somehow really important to some group of people, or something like that!" She gestures to the speed milking pillow in her hands, held away from her body because of its horrible texture. "Like that." "They...have contests for such things?" Sarracenia being here is the grim product of Arthur's horrible choices. If anything about the Blooms gets leaked into her thoughtless skull, then it'll be Arthur's fault. Petra shrugs at her, not antagonistic right off the bat. "I dunno. Farmers have to have fun somehow. There's whole worlds out there we don't know about." "If it was up to me I'd have that chair burned." Petra turns around at the sound of Malkuth's voice, and then makes a distraught-but-somehow-pleased noise at Netzach's awful find. "Jesus Christ. How was that not sold already? Nightmare fuel. We get it immediately." "If we bleached out the arcologies part, do you think it would get a laugh out of Ash?" "Pfff-- ha!" Petra snickers, which is a pretty good indicator of Ash's humor too. "Oh my god, you could just keep that as your mug at the country house. That'd be really funny." "It'll be me as the last survivor because I'm the one with the wife. That's how the epic goes." "Damn. Ishirou already basically did the cyclops thing when he told NAZCA your name, back then. Er-- I really don't want to be stuck in a ship with that fucking horrible chair for ten years at all, though."
Sarracenia	'Sarra is flipped off' Sarra is so stunned at having such a gesture aimed at her that she doesn't even get mad. She just stares until Netzach waves back. She smiles though as Mikey waves back, but doesn't approach the group as she has something else on her mind. Like... 'Lilian and Tamamo are here' It would be unwise to approach them, right? So soon after or possibly still during their honeymoon? After Sarra said something pretty insulting on radio recently? Sarra doesn't really think things through that much, though. The only thing that actually gives her pause is approaching Lilian while she is looking at daggers, but she approaches anyway. "Ah! H-hello, Lilian. Hello, Tamamo." she says. The princess actually looks apologetic for once, and holds her hands clasped in front of her politely like someone who has a bit of class. "I was hoping you might let me explain what was said on the radio. I really did not mean it in the insulting way it must have sounded. In truth I had all but forgotten that theory of mine, but when you mentioned it Lilian...I suppose I am not used to hearing you jest. I wished to apologize to you both. You were both quite generous to me, especially recently. And Lilian! I never got a chance to give you this!" Sarra reaches into her purse and pulls out a small medal on a ribbon to be worn around the neck. It is a silver hammer with white wings behind a golden shield with a curling green vine on it. "It is...a medal honoring your efforts to help Gregory. The suncatcher...it was one of the last things he helped me with before..." Her uncovered eye moistens. "...a-anyway, I hope you will accept my apology. And even if not, I hope you will keep the suncatcher. If only to honor Gregory."
Angela	Malkuth seems upset with Sarracenia! But like in a determined way. Like she's decided she's going to be. Netzach and Mikey are more 'let bygones be bygones' type people. Netzach and Mikey seem surprised that she's apologizing to Lilian and Tamamo, though Malkuth rolls her eyes at it. "See if you believe that in a week." She mutters, under her breath. ''You ever tried BUYING ART?'' "Man, art is so commercialized in The City and they're always trying to make it into the most outlandish shit, but--like--not outlandish with heart, outlandish but EMPTY. They'll fancy it all up with TERMINOLOGY but at the end of the day there's no substance, just style and audacity to no purpose, on aim, saying nothing!" Netzach pats Mikey awkwardly on the shoulder to try and calm him down. ''EVIL. I LOVE IT.'' ''Jesus Christ. How was that not sold already? Nightmare fuel. We get it immediately.'' Netzach gives Malkuth a smug little smile and Malkuth sighs. "I'm not the one who is going to have to sit on it, Netzach." "I'd love to sit on it, then maybe like act like it's eating me and go like 'agggh the chair's got me.'" Mikey goes off and brings in an armchair. As in, an armchair made out of arms: https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/63f48b9c9786a_4sd2b0ks3ka91__700.jpg "Like this, they'd make this but like with actual arms and call it arm chair and then be like 'this is saying something about the human condition--" Mikey complains. "Look can't you maybe find forks and knives or something? It can't all be weird chairs." Netzach eventually comes back with a knife with the inscription: 'In Villa de Olot Principatus Cat. balonioe fecit Paulus Horens.' The handle has a sun with a face on it, a one handed clock(?), and a tail on it: https://www.vam.ac.uk/mused/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/05/vam-clock-knife.jpg. "This feels old." Netzach says. "Couldn't find a matching set though."
Tamamo	Tamamo takes a little time by Lilian looking at the knife rack. "I feel like this was not selected for a kitchen at all. Rather, were these... oh, Christmas gifts? How unfortunate... but that comes of wishing for spontaneity," and not using a registry, "after all." She'd already decided that their kitchen doesn't need it from a glance. 'Does this shit CRANK TO MOVE...?' "Perhaps we could roll it if you turn it... and find the locking...?" 'Maybe,' is the answer. 'See, you GET IT mostly. I think.' "I know of certain places in which such a thing as this might be useful, though it might be you know of different ones, by coincidence. 'Enduring' is... yes, it is a matter of something retaining its shape, in a sense. To regard something repeatedly, and instill in it a feeling, creates such an effect." 'Hi Tamamo!' With uncommon warmth, "Hello, Ms. Soroka." Tamamo must be in a good mood. Glowing, even, perhaps. Figuratively. 'Like, you know, the thing that makes this all interesting, is that someone wanted it at some point!' "For if they had not, that cycle of attention would have transformed it in a different way, it is so. That cloth... well, I could hardly guess why it was made in such a way. A niche event... it could be such a thing. A thing may be valued because it was difficult to create it, or else, because it commemorates some difficult event, and 'rarity' may be a substitute in either case. A material may be rare, and so may an experience. Even for annual events, one may affix a sense of a particular time, and so, the year provides a 'uniqueness' to it, and value may there be taken, for every experience is particular to its time and place." But that's surely all obvious enough, so Tamamo continues rummaging while she talks, rather than think further on any one thing. "There are a great deal of identical swords, here. I suppose those would be less useful." With an unusual grip, angled more like a gun, and a hand guard that separates the index finger. "Is that a trigger...? Ah, no. Oh, but this..." Tamamo picks up the ff fortissimo-symbol hair pin next to the pile. "This, surely, mattered to someone. A hair pin would. Ah, but here I am distracted by clothing, once again. We were looking for furniture, no? And table settings..." She continues to rummage.
Tamamo	Tamamo regards both Sarracenia and her offer of a medal. "Princess Sarracenia, I hope that you will take these words to heart. Between a single, grand work, and the constant toil of ages, there are times when one or the other is preferred. In the matter of making enemies, only the former is required. In the matter of gaining trust, there is only the latter. You may think upon which of these is more difficult."
Lilian Rook	'FITS.' "I didn't know you were capable of deliberately looking hideous." Lilian says, recoiling from the shirt. "I thought you just rolled out of bed looking like an ignorant online brat." 'EVIL. I LOVE IT. We'll put it on the DECK.' "The what?" Lilian looks back dead seriously. "Like, an upper deck? Is this a space yacht?" 'Think I KNEW THIS LADY.' "Yeah yeah we've all had the repetitive dream about her." Lilian . . . rolls her eyes again? To challenge Arthur's dogshit shirt, Lilian spins around with a new one held between pinched fingers, popping up her foot with a celebratory "Tada!" The front of it shows stylized iconography of various men and women of implicit ethnicities and religions holding hands. The text right above it reads SQUISHIES. 'It is ever curious what items and, even more so, messages one might most strongly feel in having left behind.' "Oh gosh. Remember when nobody would shut up about gods?" Lilian instantly beelines for Tamamo, grabbing her arm and giggling about her find, for reasons that are completely indecipherable in how hers differs from anything else. "They were so weird about it! And now a giant monster situation is, like, 'what? those still exist?' like you didn't know some guy still worked at the company because you were sure he'd get fired at some point." Leaning on her wife's arm for slightly too long, emitting a humming noise like a very happy turbine, Lilian glances over to one side, leans over on tiptoe so she can remove a DVD from a shelf with the tips of her fingers, and closely examines sloppy B movie box art involving some sort of flaming anthropomorphic animal, trying to find the title on the front and back before concluding "Is 'This Film is Dedicated to the Brave Mujahideen Fighters of Afghanistan' actually the movie name?" She sets it back down on a bumper sticker that says 'HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE CREATURES OF GRIMM?' with an extremely confusing crucifix on each end. "Let's see . . . replica emergency teleporter, commemorative coins allegedly minted from adamantium recovered from the rubble of the Ring of Philosophy, some sort of sample case fromm- the Sunglasses Factory? Did someone dump a collector's cache here? There's a vinyl of what I can just tell is dogshit metal music. There's a copy of that fucking VRMMO from fifteen years ago that the Bladecraft case was reenacting but it's just the box with nothing in it." Lilian blinks. "Wait they have Bladecraft too?!" 'I think we might be opposites, somehow. In everything.' "He's going to start talking about classpects you know." Lilian says, warningly. 'Oh my god, you could just keep that as your mug at the country house. That'd be really funny.' Lilian smiles. This time it's strangely fond. She turns the mug over to look at it up close again, and decides that she suddenly feels warmly about this tacky piece of consumerist shit. "You're right. I'll keep this for myself." 'Damn. Ishirou already basically did the cyclops thing when he told NAZCA your name, back then.' "Oh my god he did!" Lilian suddenly yells. "That motherfucker! If I'd known how bad it would get I'd have killed him myself!" Hanging off Tamamo's arm, Lilian is mentally so distant from the events by which he actually did die that she doesn't even look at Petra with that weird sort of regretful disgust that feels like she's reexamining her life choices!
Lilian Rook	'I was hoping you might let me explain what was said on the radio.' Lilian glances over her shoulder, and blurts out "Beaming you with my psychic apocalypse waves. Pew pew pew." in the most dead-assed monotone imaginable. She snorts faintly at the word 'generous', saying "That was my mind control sinking its hooks in. You're already too late." She glances down at the medal like shouldn't be any less interested. 'The suncatcher...it was one of the last things he helped me with before...' Then she makes an uncomfortably complicated expression, and, holding her breath for a full quarter minute, breathes out in exasperated, low-energy neutral. "I didn't actually throw it out." she says. "I started to, but then I thought the empty spot in the window would remind me of something negative instead of the one time it ever felt like you were being nice, so I got indecisive." 'You may think upon which of these is more difficult.' She clings a little more possessively to Tamamo's arm. "Listen to my beautiful wife and reflect upon your actions." She takes the medal anyways, and slips it into her bag. ". . . I think he'd be happy if you did." 'Man, art is so commercialized in The City and they're always trying to make it into the most outlandish shit, but--like--not outlandish with heart, outlandish but EMPTY.' "I should see what freaks and perverts would pay for mine, then." Lilian murmurs, mostly to herself. "Unsigned, of course. Just on merit." 'I'd love to sit on it, then maybe like act like it's eating me and go like 'agggh the chair's got me.'' "Very funny. Up until you become our emergency rations." Lilian rolls her eyes a third time. This one is slightly smug. 'I feel like this was not selected for a kitchen at all. Rather, were these... oh, Christmas gifts? How unfortunate...' "I've been saying this for aaaaages!" Lilian theatrically moans, hopping out from behind Tamamo to get in front again. "It was all weapons with these people! Because, y'know, 'Well we're all Elites! We kill things!' like that's the only sense of community they had! And now, like, everything explodes, and it's the same thing but with the new group virtue of the era!" She huffs proudly before declaring "It's trauma. I'm calling it now. The developing fad is 'Oooh we all have dark pasts together . . .' and you'll see it crystal clear in less than five years. People are going to be sending each other weird appropriative kintsugi and commemorative plaques of the time they were both trapped and betrayed in a hyperbolic time chamber." 'There are a great deal of identical swords, here.' To match Tamamo's, Lilian majestically brandishes something that looks like god's own worst jpeg artefact. A rock so heavy that even the lord can't lift it. She swings it literally once before saying with feeling "I feel like I'm cutting myself just holding this piece of shit." Turning it over to examine it properly, she identifies two very helpful stickers on each side: one says 'FRONP' and the other 'AWAYWAYS'.
Sarracenia	'Arthur: Answers Sarra's question' Sarra nods lightly after listening. "I...think so." she says, and seems to actually mean it. "Though, that sounds less like some sort of space phenomenon and more like...something from a book?" She pauses a moment after that. "...which I suppose would make sense, given what you have said you have experienced. Thank you, by the way, for your help with my new powers." 'I dunno. Farmers have to have fun somehow. There's whole worlds out there we don't know about.' "Hmm. I suppose so." Sarra says, pondering what people who have such jobs do for fun. "Do you suppose they have tractor driving races and such as well?" 'Princess Sarracenia, I hope that you will take these words to heart.' 'I didn't actually throw it out. I started to, but then I thought the empty spot in the window would remind me of something negative instead of the one time it ever felt like you were being nice, so I got indecisive.' Sarra's hopeful smile fades a bit as Tamamo starts with that, and fades completely by the end. She is quiet after, the hand offering the medal hanging a little lower and her head lowered a bit as well. Lilian's sarcastic responses draw a soft huff, but not the usual hmph or cheekpuff that might usually follow such a thing said to Sarra. She does frown of course, but more in the 'bitter pill to swallow' kind of way than the angry kind of way. But then, the medal is taken. Sarra blinks in surprise. She was just about to put it away, figuring it would not be accepted. A couple of tears roll down her cheeks, even with that patch covering one eye and she smiles ever so lightly and nods. "Yes, I am sure he would. Thank you both." She then backs away, bows lightly at the waist, then returns to browsing. Sarra then gets an idea and starts looking around with purpose. Finally, she finds what she is looking for. A hammer! Of course she looks for a hammer. But, this one looks like a blacksmith's hammer. An old one. It looks like it has been rusting in this place for quite a while. She picks it up and dusts it off, then gasps as a royal seal that she is pretty sure is the crest of the Pendragons is revealed. Of course, she thinks that based on books and shows. "Arthur! How about this? A royal blacksmith's hammer!"
Petra Soroka	"They'll fancy it all up with TERMINOLOGY but at the end of the day there's no substance, just style and audacity to no purpose, on aim, saying nothing!" Truly, this is the only thing that makes Mikey tolerable at all. Petra fucking hated this guy during the time of LobCorp, and deeply resented that despite his constant bumbling idiocy he somehow survived out of everyone, but, ever since joining the Floor of Art, she's warmed up to him slightly. Just slightly. He's still a moron. But now that he has his passion to rant about, he fills a similar niche as Tennant, if without any of Tennant's good qualities to back that up. "Yeah, it's fucked out there. I know you can't really keep up with the developments of the past decade, but it's especially bad in District 14 now. They put out this whole new thing about obscenity laws and unlicensed art, punishable by execution. And you know what happened to every newspaper that said that was bad? All executed! Who could've guessed!" She grumbles, about the armchair, "And it's all fucking meat, isn't it? Probably just to desensitize people through sheer bullshit insanity." "Even for annual events, one may affix a sense of a particular time, and so, the year provides a 'uniqueness' to it, and value may there be taken, for every experience is particular to its time and place." Petra nods excitedly, shoveling through a box of paintings of completely random size. "Right! People have always, um, shared their lives with their belongings, I think. Before I was born, it was more common that people would have things passed down to them by their ancestors-- you know, mundane things like cookware or furniture or anything, that had been in the family for decades or centuries. People make quilts, and each of the patches mean something to them, and when they die and pass the quilt on, it's sort of a stand-in for the person themselves. I think that's really neat." Petra carefully extracts a crude fingerpainting from the box, trying not to rip it on the frames of the other paintings. It's a fish, made with sweeping motions from tiny fingers, with a goofy little smileyface and wiggly green seaweed. In the corner, it says, also fingerpainted, "AMY, AGE 5". "In more modern times, I think people treat possession more like, um, scrapbooking, instead. Which isn't necessarily worse. Filling up the attic with their kids' drawings or something. Buying, I don't know, Christmas ornaments whenever they go on vacation. And then instead of getting passed down, because there's just too much of it, those things end up here, and you can sort of piece together someone's memories by whatever reminders they bought or saved that'd jog their own memories." "I like thrift stores," She adds, unnecessarily, taking a photograph of what seems to be someone's personal flower garden and adding it to the cart. "This, surely, mattered to someone." Petra glances at the hairpin. "Kinda makes me think of Hibiki."
Petra Soroka	> The text right above it reads SQUISHIES. "Woah!!! Yes!! What?!" Petra giggles delightedly at the shirt Lilian's holding, and changes her pathing to burrow through the rack of clothes too. "That's awesome. This is how I get basically all of my shirts, you know." Within moments she has an armload, ranging from THE WORST DAY OF FISHING BEATS THE BEST DAY OF COURT MANDATED ANGER MANAGEMENT SESSIONS to a t-shirt that has a hood for some reason, black and white patterned like a penguin with an orange beak hanging down from the middle of the hood. "Wait they have Bladecraft too?!" "What? No way. Oh my god, actually-- how many copies of that do you think ended up in secondhand stores?! I mean, think how many people must've just tossed it after that?" "Beaming you with my psychic apocalypse waves. Pew pew pew." "Imagine how much better the world would be if you could..." What a dangerous topic for Petra to be thinking about. Sarracenia being brought to near-tears right next to the trio of them is a little too awkward for her to engage with directly, when she's not even being talked to. "Very funny. Up until you become our emergency rations." "Ash used to tell me that I'd be cannibalized first in a plane crash. Looks like I'm moving up in the world!" Petra plants her hands on her hips proudly, one fist wrapped around a hand-painted flag for the TEXAS ROADRUNNERS MODEL UN CLUB.
Tamamo	'Oh gosh. Remember when nobody would shut up about gods?' "Unfortunately," says Tamamo, and giggles, despite not presently having a folding fan to hide it. Lilian's shoulder will have to do. "They were a mysterious lot. Even such as Ishtar never received such treatment... that I witnessed, at any rate." Implicitly: Ishtar would've deserved it. Not that Tamamo holds ill will toward her. 'Ishirou already basically did the cyclops thing when he told NAZCA your name, back then.' 'That motherfucker!' Tamamo frowns, faintly. "It was not his proudest moment. One might have thought him better prepared to distrust, after the... entirety of humanity of his homeland turned out to be the way they were." That's a story not quite, but close enough, to as old as a few things here. Tamamo hangs onto Lilian's arm, but thinking about those events has her a little more fretful. 'It's trauma. I'm calling it now. The developing fad is...' "I suppose there is no chance of developing a trend of finding love that does not result, as Mr. Lowell has suggested, in death and tragedy?" He may have used more specific terms. "Perhaps we might still push for such a thing?" Trauma is not, in Tamamo's opinion, romance-forming. Some people might disagree, and she feels concerned for those people.
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Start classpecting Petra immediately "Nah, you're not OPPOSITE. Not TIME ASPECT or PAGE CLASS. You're like..." Arthur immediately starts classpecting her as was warned. "THIEF OF HEART, probably. Definitely HEART ASPECT and ACTIVE-CLASS, ZERO QUESTION. You're HEARTMAXXED." No explanation for that. "Hey, help me get this off the SHELF." He asks, trying to get her help to move some kind of 200-year-old radiation-microwave into his cart. "Watch the URANIUM." > Arthur: Agree with what Mikey's saying without understanding the substance Arthur is nodding firmly and saying lots of, "Mhm mhm mhm!!" And "Yeah!! Fuck yeah!" But he doesn't understand it much, besides Mikey being very frustrated with a... government? Movement? Place? Then, accidentally, he says the one thing that's going to crystalize this in Mikey's brain: "We're basically doin' SPACE COLLAGE here, gotta get our space ENRICHING while we get it STABLE too." That... should precisely align Mikey's understanding of what needs to be strange and what needs to be normal, and how dense one or the other ought to be. "Shit, that reminds me we gotta get stuff to WATCH and PLAY on the way, and it CAN'T BE GOOD." > Arthur: Find good stuff He winds up hovering near Lilian. "They got VRMMO stuff here? SHIT, let's GET SOME. I can COOK UP A SERVER. Did you know I never got a chance to PLAY IT? It'll be SO GOOD, NIKA can SMOKE ME on it." He continues to gather games there though. "Interstellar Frontiers Online... This looks kind of like ass. Two bucks, sick. Last Illusion, SHIT, can someone find a SECOND CONTROLLER for the Super Nintendo? I remember this one! I bet this one isn't HAUNTED." > Arthur: that sounds less like some sort of space phenomenon and more like...something from a book? "Yeah, I'm TRANSLATING ROUGHSTYLE. Like, we need..." He gestures vaguely. "MIDDLE-AGED SEDENTARY MATTER that won't get INDECISIVE. You're getting the PICTURE. Starting to see stuff CONVERTING on your ASPECT."
Angela	''I should see what freaks and perverts would pay for mine, then.'' Mikey is confused. "Huh? I'm sure your art wouldn't be empty at all. You're, like, always thinking about things and having feelings about stuff." He says, holding up a mug shaped like Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves before ultimately deciding the vibes don't sit well with ''him'' and he puts it away, instead going for a green ceramic mug with big teethy smiling face glued onto it. ''Very funny. Up until you become our emergency rations.'' "Didn't realize you've grown accustomed to our cuisine." Netzach quips. "But I'll bravely volunteer so nobody else has to. I think I'd just be sad if you had to start eating your friends." It IS broadly intolerable Mikey somehow survived despite being the least capable agent at LobCorp but that's how it is sometimes in The City but especially at LobCorp. Competency can be as much a target painted on your back as much as incompetence can. If not more. Strangely, even in failed loops, he tended to survive a long time too though obviously his survival rate in failed loops was a lot lower as was everybody's. ''Yeah, it's fucked out there.'' But Mikey isn't really in tune with the Nagel und Hammer scuttlebut. He grimaces just thinking about it. "Probably Ring influence. Wings, District 14's just getting worse with every year. Library's much better." Netzach picks up a pog and studies it thoughtfully before absentmindedly putting it in their pocket to look at a bright orange sweater. ''Looks like I'm moving up in the world!'' "Congratulations." Malkuth says to Petra. "Though that's really been the case for a while, hasn't it?" ''Oooh we all have dark pasts together.'' Malkuth mulls on that for a moment, thinking back. "Trauma was one of our classifactions--I think it makes sense that there's sort of a, uh---" She snaps her fingers. "Enticement to showing it off. Like bragging about your oppression or whatever. At least at certain levels of it." She grimaces at the mention of the commemorative plates though. "If it becomes something we could all laugh about one day...I don't know..." ''We're basically doin' SPACE COLLAGE here, gotta get out space ENRICHING'' "...Space collage... magazines... butterflies..." He says like he's receiving secret instructions into his brain. "That's it!! I'll be right back!!" He rushes off. ''WATCH and PLAY on the way, and it CAN'T BE GOOD.'' "Tennant left their movie collection back at the--Library." Malkuth says. "Most of their films are -- fitting."
Tamamo	Tamamo regards a certain chair. "Truly, if the goal is to find the worst possible, this is a strong contender." 'I'd love to sit on it, then maybe like act like it's eating me...' "Is it that sort of interest...?" Tamamo might say she won't judge, but she will. She actually will, if quietly. 'THIEF OF HEART, probably.' "To be a thieving cat is punishable by death." That is surely some kind of joke, just interpreting by tone. Besides, there aren't any cats here, and she was positively disposed toward the last alien catgirl thief she'd met. 'Filling up the attic with their kids' drawings or something. Buying, I don't know, Christmas ornaments whenever they go on vacation. And then instead of getting passed down, because there's just too much of it, those things end up here...' "Should they have been more selective with their memories, or is it the fault of having not enough space to give themselves and their children, do you suppose? I should rather have all the room to give to preserve any feeling of importance, but I wonder how many attics it would fill, in the end." Tamamo looks in near the box where Petra had found the fingerpainting, and finds herself a stack of macaroni art pieces. They depicts various people, but usually a... girl? With long twintails, and a large sword? Sometimes people are happy, sometimes sad. Often, there's some kind of... slain monster? Hmm. 'Kinda makes me think of Hibiki.' Tamamo touches the hairpin a moment longer, half-closes her eyes, and holds very still-- "Yes. I suppose it does resemble her."
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Observe HAMMER He checks out that odd item. An old hammer for a workshop... He starts scratching his chin, thinking out loud. "You know, bet this thing NEVER HURT ANYONE. Looks like it's been YEARS AND YEARS or somethin', fuck, this could be GOOD. Decent for the SHIP, but BETTER for YOUR STUFF." He turns it over in his hands a few times, then hands it back. "Hang tight, GRAB THIS and let's RECONVENE, this got me INSPIRED on some FOCUS STUFF for your ASPECT." His grin is wide and he looks quite interested in an idea this has given him.
Petra Soroka	"I suppose there is no chance of developing a trend of finding love that does not result, as Mr. Lowell has suggested, in death and tragedy?" Listening to Tamamo and Lilian discussing aspects of 'Elite culture' from years before Petra was around while she's digging through shelves for decor is kind of pleasantly soothing. She tugs out a ceramic pitcher painted like a frog, with a tongue rolling down the spout, and announces quietly, "Frog pitcher." Then, inserting herself into the conversation, "Not with Elites, no way. I mean, even putting aside how unattractive and unlikeable they usually are, it's sort of difficult to really reconcile 'settling down' with all of this. I can't think of anyone besides you two who've met and gotten married through Elite stuff." Petra is the one Tamamo should be concerned for. Whether she likes it or not, trauma and romance are inseparable to her-- and frankly, sometimes she doesn't like it! Given the death of her last girlfriend, she can't really use herself as a counterpoint. "THIEF OF HEART, probably. Definitely HEART ASPECT and ACTIVE-CLASS, ZERO QUESTION. You're HEARTMAXXED." Petra scoffs, a little bit sincerely upset but mostly not, while moving to help Arthur carry the microwave. Rolling her eyes, "Christ, dude. First Ash said it, now you? Don't classpect me as a playboy." "Watch the URANIUM." "Also, that's not real. You don't actually have to worry about that." "It'll be SO GOOD, NIKA can SMOKE ME on it." "Oh my god. Nika would have an unbelievably good time with a VR game. That would be awesome." Petra sweatily makes a note to look into how to delete a BladeCraft Connect account. It'd be so embarrassing to log in to play and show up as Sterling. "Also-- why the fuck can't we have good entertainment on the way? Don't tell me that it being shit makes it more quantumly stable or whatever the fuck. I think things can be psychically anchoring and good!" "Probably Ring influence." You know, even when talking about the thing he's passionate about, Mikey is a fucking moron. "Probably N-Corp influence, dude. You're buying into the fucking conspiracy. That's why the Fingers exist like they do." Petra pronounces the gravest insult she possibly can that will hurt Mikey the most. "Sheep." "To be a thieving cat is punishable by death." "Yes ma'am," Petra says, sweating. "Understood."
Petra Soroka	"Should they have been more selective with their memories, or is it the fault of having not enough space to give themselves and their children, do you suppose?" "Hmmm...." Petra ponders the subject, wandering over to a pile of furniture. "I don't know, actually. I don't know if I'd say it's their fault at all." 'For once' goes unspoken. "I mean... I don't really think people should have to be selective with their memories. You know, ideally, every day's important, right? Sakura disagreed with me a bit on this, and if anyone had the justification to it'd be her, but I'm thinking about it from the perspective of having watched the facility through all the loops too. Once something's boiled down to 'memories', even the most boring things become 'important'. And I think the reason for that is, that's, like, your life! Reminiscing on things is basically how you value your own life." "So I think, losing any of that information is kind of sad. When people have a stupid camcorder recording every dumb mundane moment of their lives, it's kind of lame in the moment, and maybe ninety percent of it's never gonna get looked at again. But then they die, and that's the only way to understand that person's life." "I guess if I assigned blame anywhere, it'd be... that they only had kids, I guess. It'd be nicer if there were dozens of people interested in the things left behind when someone dies, rather than just their two point five kids. Like how Lilian's manor must've been, before." Petra excavates an old, scuffed-up endtable, with a three dimensional lazy susan in the center that's shaped like a frog's big open mouth. "Frog table."
Sarracenia	'Imagine how much better the world would be if you could...' Sarra gives Petra a small glare, but doesn't respond. She just gives Petra the side eye as she walks by. 'Arthur: Observe HAMMER' Sarra looks confused as Arthur starts talking about how this could help focus her aspect. But, she trusts him and this aspect he's been telling her about is something she's excited about. She nods enthusiastically as he grins and holds the hammer in both hands firmly. She hesitates a moment later. "...this does not mean more books, does it?" she asks cautiously.
Lilian Rook	'Before I was born, it was more common that people would have things passed down to them by their ancestors--' Lilian glances down in the direction of her pendant. 'you know, mundane things like cookware or furniture or anything' "Oh. I suppose." she says, thinking about her entire house. 'Woah!!! Yes!! What?! That's awesome.' "Keeping it!" Lilian happily declares, bouncing on the balls of her feet for a second before remembering why she's here. "Afterwards, obviously." She quickly looks over at Arthur, notices he's rambling about aspects again, and then goes back to Petra, feeling safe that she isn't missing anything she won't regret hearing. She only gets most of the way through reading the new shirt Petra holds up before waving her hand and saying "No no no no, here, let me. I'm clearly good at this." She closes her eyes, lightly furrows her brow, hums thoughtfully, then all but sprints off around a corner, rummaging through further absolute garbage six aisles down, and returns with-- "May I present!" The shirt that Lilian flourishes reads I'M NEVER PUPPY STRESSED WHEN I DO MY PUPPY BEST on the front, punctuated with a paw print. She flips it around for emphasis, and on the back side there is a highly detailed colour graphic of a submachine gun. 'I mean, think how many people must've just tossed it after that?' "Oh god anyone with sense." Lilian laughs while foisting the shirt off on Petra, waiting to see if she tests it for a fit. "I feel sorry for the poor bastards who made it in the end, but I suppose it could have been worse. We weren't anywhere close to solving it before some mystery freak cracked the whole thing." 'Imagine how much better the world would be if you could...' Lilian looks at Petra. She thinks about how to convey to her that she effectively already can, actually, and then upon realizing how much every version of doing so kind of sucks, presses her lips together and turns back to the shelves instead. 'Looks like I'm moving up in the world!' "Ash doesn't know what they're talking about." says Lilian. "I'd definitely save eating you for last." 'It was not his proudest moment. One might have thought him better prepared to distrust, after the... entirety of humanity of his homeland turned out to be the way they were.' "I mean, I thought so!" Lilian huffs theatrically. "But then I got to thinking about it, and, really, by that same standard, you'd think practcally everyone would be better at allocating their trust because nearly everyone is being screwed over by society that made them to some extent or another, right? I think I had that unrealistic impression, to the point it kind of stung, because his whole thing was so focally sympathetic, you know? Like he was the microcosm of the android people and their struggles and you just couldn't help but get invested." Lilian sighs, wistful and a little sad-nostalgic. 'I suppose there is no chance of developing a trend of finding love that does not result, as Mr. Lowell has suggested, in death and tragedy?' "Psh. They've have to start finding love first." Lilian giggles mean-girl style. She bounced right back. "Oh please darling! They're not even in our league! I'm always doing every single thing that Elites are sure they can't, or don't even bother trying to, aren't I? So! No death, no tragedy, guaranteed~" She savagely ambush attacks Tamamo from behind with a hug so flirty it should be made illegal.
Lilian Rook	'I can COOK UP A SERVER. Did you know I never got a chance to PLAY IT? It'll be SO GOOD, NIKA can SMOKE ME on it.' Lilian seems poised to scold Arthur about buying killer VRMMO equipment like she's about to tell the insolent McDonalds-chanting child that they have food at home, right up until he drops Nika's name. "Huh. Now that I think about it, I've never actually seen her play VR." she says. "Like, I know she has a generic console, but I only ever see her playing analogue." Her gaze thoughtfull wanders off into the bleakly unenriching bare scaffold rafters. "She has a computer, too, but I've only seen her play games on it once. I wonder why that is?" The name 'Last Illusion' summons a bittersweet smile. "Perhaps I'll just ask her? Anyways, all those videogames are forfeit to Nika after we're done. You can let me buy them off you or you can let me rob you in broad daylight for them." So much for her prickly reluctance. 'Huh? I'm sure your art wouldn't be empty at all. You're, like, always thinking about things and having feelings about stuff.' "Well obviously." Lilian sniffs. "But my art, on a technical level, has unique and irreplicable qualities that I'm curious to see the effect of in circulation." While this is technically true, she also never finishes anything that won't fit in a sketchbook. It's a bit silly to be going on like this. 'Didn't realize you've grown accustomed to our cuisine.' "You're eight-hundred years too young to be telling me how to eat people." says Lilian. The atmosphere is now apparently so bubbly that she can make jokes about the current topic, which is completely in-fucking-penetrable to Netzach. "Besides. You're a natural born martyr. I'd grill you up with a proud tear in my eye." 'Trauma was one of our classifactions--I think it makes sense that there's sort of a, uh---' Lilian blinks. Smiling politely, she asks, "Classifications of what?" 'To be a thieving cat is punishable by death.' "Fortunately for Petra, she's a thieving dog who just wants the fried chicken on the table." This one's for you, Calvin. She adheres herself to Tamamo's arm again, and says, 'but I wonder how many attics it would fill, in the end.' "Hey babe, let's find out~"
Angela	''Sheep.'' Mikey grimaces. "Uwhh.g..ghh..." He collapses as if struck by a fatal blow. "Noooooooo...." ''I'd grill you up with a proud tear in my eye.'' "Aww shucks... I'm now starting to really look forward to the trip." ''Classifications of what?'' "Oh!" Malkuth sort of falls into her old 'Explaining the Facility' tone. "Obviously you remember the chief classifications--WAW, HE and whatnot--but the classifications went more in depth than that. One of our categories of Abnormality was a sort of generalization of 'type'--like if they were more centered around fairy tales or religion or whatever--one of those classifications was Trauma which was Bloodbath, Forsaken Murderer, Dreaming Current and so on."