RP: Lazarus [Lazarus] - A barrel of Lmanel

[OsakanOne]

Another day, another chemistry class. Seiren's footsteps led him out of the room where he learned more about chemical bonding and all sorts of moderately useful things for making compounds, particularly sweets. In his arms, a set of notebooks. On his person, a sweater and long skirt for the chilly weather, and for comfort.

The sound of heavy foot-falls approached Seiren from behind - a tall figure clad in a red tracksuit striped with white lines. She ran on the spot before turning about and walking backward alongside him. Snowy white hair balled up into a pony-tail, dark warm skin and amber eyes... And that smile?

"Ah, Ms Isbala~?" she beamed. "I didn't know you were a student here."

"Ah, yeah. Didn't I tell you? It's why I share a dorm room with Aiesu," he said, recongizing the tall L'manel.

"You might have but we did get a bit... Carried away" Lalah said, her mind visibly wandering before she cleared her own throat. "So how are you and her doing? Is it a crowded house-hold?" she smiled.

"Um, well, I kinda... Stormed out, and then when I came back we had another argument. Or did we? I dunno, it was a little strained, and a bit of a blur. Especially since I got an invite~" He cheerily said, pulling a small envelope from between his notebooks.

"O-Ooh?" Lalah began. Her expression said she instantly recognised the styling of the paper - her fingers interlocked to form a cute arch from which she hides her lips and her smile behind. "That's quite an honor, you know!" she beamed, now piping down into a whisper as she leant closer.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Well, yeah! It's an honorable ceremony type thingamabob, isn't it?"

"Mm, its to say someone has anonymously accepted you as an honorary L'manel. Its kind of a big deal you know? For someone to think so highly of you, a foreigner. If one of us accepts you, it means we all do. You... probably don't even know who they are... Do you?" she arched over Seiren curiously, towering over him.

"Well, probably not! I mean, I know a few people here, but I don't think anybody I know thinks of me that highly! Well, didn't think," the construct said with a shrug.

"Huuuh... With luck, lots of people should be invitied. Its normally a very cloak and dagger type thing. Did you get a mask yet?"

"I was planning on making mine after class."

"Well, this is over the weekend - they're always the next week unless you miss them - and it begins soon and the kiln will be shut in a few hours. You should probably cut class to make it. I think if you tell your tutor, she'll understand."

Seiren looked baffled for a moment, then slapped his forehead in anguish. "Oh. Looks like I misunderstood the timestamp. Damn my readability!"

"Huh... Your Lorath isn't too great?" she leant over, fingering at the envelope thoughtfully.

"Well, Aiesu told me that it was part of the old dialect or something. And I only know modern Lorath, and just a bit more than standard stuff, anyhow," Seiren explained, straightening out the stack that was starting to slacken in his arms.

"Ah, orthodox? Mm, it can be a pain to read if you've only studied modern or reform. Do you want me to read it for you? I mean... I shouldn't, but I can. I won't tell anyone."

"Uh, sure! But can ya do it while I make my mask? It's gotta be panda themed and I want it enough time to make it all nice and stuff."

"Panda~!?" her eyes lit up, taking Seiren's cheeks in her palms with a broad smile. "Really?"

The construct cocked his head. "Aiesu had the same reaction, huh. . . "

"Haaa.. It'll be so cute~"

"She said it had something to do with pederastry in the feudal era or something complicated and sociopolitcal."

"Mm! Its ... Well. There's a special class of special young boys who were renouned for their acting skills and ... How alluring they could be. Petit, small boys -- about your age. This was maybe... Four, five hundred years ago? Anyway, we always thought Yamataian panda-bears looked a lot like them, because of the style of the make-up" she rubbed her eyes with her fists then peeked through then as the curled each hand into an O.
"So it has that cannotation."

"Huh. . . you don't think my secret admirer person knows about. . . well, y'know, do you?" Seiren asked in a hushed tone. He led Lalah down the halls towards the clayworking classrooms as they spoke.

"Ara? Secret admirer? That you're Yamataian?" she whispered. "Probably... They--"

"No, the other thing."

"Oh~! Well, males and females smell different. Its something all Lorath notice right away. But you're a foreigner so you don't really smell like either. But you are kinda..." she curled her lips into a cheeky smile.

Seiren stopped just short of the door.
"Kinda what?"

Lalah reached forward, placing Seiren's hand upon her chest, the broad barren flat of her chest - eyes beaming.

"We're part of the same club you and I."

"W-well, yea- OH WAIT THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN. . ."

"Ara?" Lalah mimed Yamataian rather poorly through her accent, tilting her head. She seemed quite fond of that particular word.

"N-nothing, I thought you were talking about the- nevermind, so, is there a stock supply of clay masks or? . . ." he asked, wandering around the room.

"Mm, you can get a plain one from the Kilm room. Want to go?"

"Yep!"

The duo moved quickly to retreive one of the masks, Lalah guiding Seiren to the necessary materials. Once everything was retreived and set up for the painting, he set out to work on panda-fying the blank.

"So, what's the orthodox bit say?" he asked, painting broad strokes of white.

"There'll be a change of clothes when you get there. You're expected to stay there for... 12 Lorath hours... That's about 36 Yamataian hours... And there'll be a banquet and everything will be provided for you. Its like a party. With oil massages and candles and ... You'd consider it kind of romantic, actually."

"That sounds pleasant. I bet the banquet's really nice, huh?"

"Mm, but its all Lorath food. You don't have a problem with that, do you? Oh and ... Lorath are kind of more intimate than Yamataians, much more tactile -- So it might be a bit weird at first, but you'll get used to it!"

"How bad can it be? . . to both. Well, maybe more to the second one. I've had takeout Lorath cuisine once or twice, and it wasn't half-bad for something that's converted into cheap takeout."

"Cheap take-out? ... That was an expensive meal. I couldn't afford that on my salery..."

"No, not that. We were eating on somebody else's buck that time. I'm talking about delivery."

"Ah... Still probably couldn't afford takeout" her voice petered out slowly in disappointment.

Seiren continued his art in silence for a few minutes, but then piped up again. "So what else is there on the letter?"

"You need to complete the mask and go to the affirmation building. Its the west wing of the cathedral. Its not far from here, actually."

"Ah sweet! Easy trip."

"Mm. Can I go? ...With your permission, of course. Oh and you mustn't use my name if you do see me."

"Uh, sure thing!" Seiren said with another grin, finishing up the patterning on the panda mask.

"Big dark eyes... Huh..." she glanced from the mask to Seiren and back again. "You'll probably have to wear face-paint."

"Isn't that the point of the mask?"

"The mask is for the introductions. The bottom part comes off see. So does the top. Depending on how things go, you might have to remove a part. Its why it has two spaces for string and then the seam, so you can snap it in two."

"Why would you remove just the top?"

"Because you're not always entitled to your words."

"Wow, that's kinda deep."

"Mm. And the bottom, because sometimes you're not entitled to your sight. First timers don't get eyeholes, you see. The ears, you'll note, go on a head-band that slips against the mask, but you have to put it on your head when you're done" she mimed, demonstrating with her slender tanned fingers.

"Then how do I find my way around?"

"Turn up at the door with the form. They'll ask you to wear the mask and disrobe into the ceremonial stuff. From there, they'll guide you up the stairs. Its kind of symbolic, like an ascent and proof that you can trust someone to lead you in lue of your own eyes."

"Wow. Again. So, um. . . do we throw it in the kiln now, or let it dry and put on a glaze and then throw it in the kiln or? . ."

"Glaze, then kiln while its still wet."

"Got it, got it!"

"Mm. Sometimes, at the door, they might make eyeholes for you and ask you to wear a blindfold underneath. Its because they want to see the faces you make but not you theirs."

"Hah, that's kinda funny. Aiesu didn't want to tell me anything about it, at all."

"Ah, is she orthodox? She's obliged by faith not to. I thought she was an athiest though?"

"Something about her mother, I think."

"Well, Kalopsia is a famous, albiet common name. Like how Smith is on Nepleslia. Though there are famous Smiths."

"Hum. . . well, this sounds like it's gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Mm. You can say no to stuff at any time but..." she ran her index finger down the center of Seiren's forehead and along his nose, giving it a final soft poke. "You probably won't want to." her voice became delicate, barely above a whisper. "It would upset your hosts."

"Like I said, how bad could it be? It's not like they're gonna tie me up to a flagpole and string me up, right? . . . right?"

Lalah pursed her lips inwardly, glancing up and off to one side. "Even I can't tell you that. Each is unique... But you are cute and they will notice that. They'll probably just dote on you."

Seiren grinned a grin as he finished up the glaze. "Well, I do like being doted on~"


Lalah's lips contorted into a broad smile and a thunder of giggling.

"What?"

"I... Aha... Kind of thought as much. Foreigners get lonely so easily..."

"What, am I that predictable?"

 

[OsakanOne]

"Shimapan," Aiesu said, feeling the warm embrace of her medication.

There was a quirk of Miles' brow as his gaze moved about, trying to get at what Aiesu was speaking of, but the moment he caught sight of the way which the light shined, he immediately had the context, and could not help but to release a laugh before looking to Aiesu with a bit of an accusatory smile; "And how would someone claiming to be above such affairs have such a whimsical garment on the mind?"

"I'm not above peeking into Seiren's underwear drawers" she gave a slow shrug of her sholder and a sip from her drink.

"You've seen him, right? All of him?" she took another sip.

"Are all Yamataians like that?"

"Not really, there's some that look like they could be Fyunnen in disguise. Though, most of them are kind of... runty? I guess would be the best way to put it. Not feminine, just, kinda frail looking." Miles explained, thinking back to the place which he was effectively barred from, on penalty of death.

"Huh... He carries himself ... Well" she said, hesitating very carefully in her words as her toes drummed against the wooden floor.

"Is that admiration of his feminine qualities?" Miles jabbed lightly, before sipping from his own drink, and then taking a bite of his Nepleslian-style fast-food.

She looked aside, appreciating the sense of the floor. It took her a moment to remember they were synthetic. "Give me a bite of that."

"Hey, this is mine, and you said it looked too greasy." Miles argued, knowing he would give the bite eventually, but he was not going to just hand it over; it was a matter of establishing a social hierarchy.

But before Miles had finished his words, Aiesu had gone to the trouble of stealing a rather large bite as her jaws snapped shut -- leaning over smoothly and pulling away with a gob full of foreign food. She chewed noisily -- eyes watering at the thick and intense flavour as she watched him.

There was an expression of shock, mixed with horror. It was a loss of food, it was a close-encounter with something that could only be compared to a beartrap, and it was a distinctive crossing of a Nepleslian social boundary. "Hey, don't steal my meat, or I'll have to exact some sort of pennance later, as your people would put it."

She couldn't help but smile now, trying not to laugh as she struggled with the amount she'd taken -- hands moving to cover her lips as she tittered to herself.

Upon looking at Aiesu's expression, Miles' look of horror softened into a smile as he let out a sigh, he could not be angry at such a face. It seemed, that Aiesu had a distinctive survival mechanisim; the face of a child on a grown woman.

"Do you understand why I need my medication now?"

"You're still not getting it." Miles replied, rather sure on the matter. "You can steal the meat, but you're not getting around doctor's orders on this one."

"Beats anti-depressants" she said, still chewing noisily. "They... Nnn. Just sort of flatten your feelings" she began, holding her hand out. "I assume where you're from, you have EKDRs... Er.. Heart monitors"

"Again, painting me like some sort of barbarian." Miles spoke with a chuckle, while shaking his head softly. "Yeah, we have heart monitors... interestingly enough, more common in Nepleslia than Yamatai, you know the Yamataians and Neko don't have hearts?"

She struggled now, swallowing - coughing as she took a deep breath as if she'd been been pushed beneath the surface of a pool.

"Take a drink." Miles held Aiesu's mug out to her. "Helps it go down."

"Well, you know how it goes up and down?" she struggled, taking a slow greedy sip.

"Yeah, a nice bouncing squiggle of sorts."

She cleared her throat now, holding her hand - mirroring that motion slowly, carefully.

"Feelings go up and down... Feeling good..." her hand rose... "Feeling bad..." her hand sunk. "Follow?"

"Yeah, I follow, I follow pretty damned well actually. That's kind of why my people and the Yamataians don't mesh that well. Them..." Miles' hand was up, and stayed up. "Us, we tend to do just like you were showing, up, and down... But them..." His hand climbed higher. "Always the up-and-up. They fool themselves into it."

"I can only go a little above a flat-line. Everything else is down. And anti-depressants only remove the down." she said -- smiling enough to show her back teeth for the first time Miles had seen now - her feet drumming against the flooring and her hands scratching at her thighs slowly, richly, as the opiates burned quietly through her.

Miles gave a soft nod, an understanding nod. There were actually a variety of reasons Miles knew of for Aiesu's rather persisting 'down', and they were all interlinked, woven together like a tapistry of emotional baggage. "You know, anti-depressants are only meant as a sort of 'patch', a temporary fix of sorts in most cases... well... aside from cases of severe chemical imbalance. Though, in your case, they'd surely just be a patch, a distraction from the truth of the matter being; you're just not happy with the hand that life has dealed to you." With that, Miles took a bite of his violated burger.

"...I've come off them a few times, cold turkey. Its agony. But its an agony I can deal with."

Miles took a while, chewing, pondering, before swallowing and speaking his words, keeping his resolve on the matter.
"Then you're going to have to deal with it a bit. Don't worry, I'm not a cold bastard like a New Tur'listian doctor."

"Bullshit." she interjected. "You're a doctor. You're as cold as you have to be. That's why I took up medicine. I can't do warm. Until I discovered this wonderful family of anelgesics, anyway..." her voice softened.

"You're clearly not of a school that has a concept called 'bedside manner'.
Nepleslian doctors are not machines, if anything, we're more human than the people we treat. We need to have a grasp on what it is to be alive, so we don't just fuck up people left and right to get our rocks off."

"You do go on, don't you?"

She sighed.

"I'll put it this way. I've spent most of my life not feeling anything one way or another. Someone tries to throw me a party? Nothing. Somebody dies? Nothing. I over-dose on my painkillers once and suddenly I'm not an emotional fraud. I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I can feel."

"Well shit, that's just pretty fucking harsh." Miles replied, crassly. "Here's the deal; I rooted around in your brain, you've got damage stemming from your memory centers. Some events happened to you, left you messed up, now you've got to stop ignoring the matter. Doctor, heal thine self."

"I'm less damaged or altered topologically than you are, with your augmentations. My brain is pristine compared to Sana."

"Yeah... can't argue there, I mean, having a Sourcian in your brain is not exactly something that can be called tidy, can it?" Miles spoke, scratching his cheek on that prospect. "Really though, your brain is not exactly healthy though-- "

"Though" she parrotted back at him.

♫ Fieldwork - "This is not the end"​

"When you're uncertain, you always use that word. You're saying what you think is right, not what you actually feel is right."

"Its a debate word." Miles interjected "Nothing is absolute without research and empircal evidence."

"People always begin bullshit the same ways when they talk... I want to say... I'm just saying... To be perfectly honest... I just want you to know... To tell you the truth... I'm not saying... I hear what you're saying... Don't take this the wrong way, let's be frank, as far as I know. Surely--"

"Enough! I'll cut the bullshit then." Miles stated simply, as he set down his drink, and his burger, and looked to Aiesu dead-on. He knew amongst Lmanel that was something of a gesture of focus, certainty, and a seriousness that was something not to be flinched away from.

She stared him down, the allusions and pretences of warmth in her features dissolving with an eerie quickness.

"Your brain is fucked up because your mother was a bitch, your father died, and you don't even know who the fuck you are. You need therapy, you need to figure out who you are, and you need to stop fucking around or your subconscious is going to kill you, because you have no more limbs to cut off."

"I'm functioning. I like functioning. by the time I'm done with my work, I won't need limbs or any of this."

"But you'll still be the same damaged person."

"How a painter paints is unimportant. Only that they reach their goal and the quality of the output"

"You can't polish shit." Miles spoke, a certainty, and a harshness to his tone. "You're dressing up the facts with your own dillusions. Last thing a doctor or scientist should ever catch themselves doing."

“That’s not a refutation.”

"You sound like one of those Lmanel out there, that cling to their scrolls and their books and won't hear a word."

"It was drummed into me as a child. What were you expecting? A person is a product of their environment."

"For you to be just as cold with your own assessment as you are with others. You're letting your own illness blind you."

"I don't intend on dying as a corporeal."

"Then when you leave behind the mortal coil, at least carry a personality that is not bogged down with the same bullshit. Because no matter where you go, there you are." Miles knew exactly what she was getting at. It was nothing as mundane as suicide, or some sort of religious dogma. He knew exactly what her 'work' was from the drop of the hat. She wanted to exist as a digital entity; it was something he'd known about for ages; he'd met someone who had even achieved what Aiesu was striving for. "I've known people who have done what you're aiming for, and it did not improve them in the least."

"If its software, its just a case of re-writing it."

"Clearly you're not that accomplished in your field then." Miles quipped.

“Very much the contrary. You're familiar with my work, you know what I’m capable of”

"And you mine. We'll keep the professional things off the table then, or this is going to turn into what my people call a 'pissing match'."

"Pissing match?"

"A contest of who can urinate the furthest distance. It is a male activity."

"That's perhaps the most Nepleslian thing I've ever heard you say."

"My people have their own charm." Miles spoke, but with a seriousness that was still quite present.

Aiesu tried not to laugh.
"Nepleslian charm: Ammonia fresh. Duly noted."

"Back to the heart of the matter. You can be treated now, have your problems sorted, and that'll guarantee you won't fuck up your transition. If you transfer into a digital state now, there is every chance you'll end up even more unstable than you are in your corporeal form." Miles spoke, in a matter-of-fact tone. He was an arrogant asshole - being well versed in what was still a fledgling field. It wasn’t something he’d advertised on his resumé when he became a consultant but it was something he was sure Aiesu was aware of.

"I've been making my own progress. Last year, even leaving the dorm - the room - would have been unthinkable. You have this weird idea that these things make me weak."

"Not weak, complacent." Miles corrected. "There is something to be said for the motivation established by agonising pain."

“I can live with it but it stops me from working… And most substrate-independent intelligence doesn’t feel pain. Its the basis of a corporeal existence. The root of empathy. I don’t intend to be without that empathy when I leave. Otherwise…”

She carefully contemplated her words, looking aside now as she leant forward.

“I’d be no different than Yui.”
Miles watched quietly. A thick sickly silence hung between them.

"Then… You've got to come to terms with it... and I just don't mean the pain in your body." With that, Miles brought his foot up to the edge of his chair, before reaching into the top rolled portion of his sock, from which he produced a small rectangular plastic container, which he presented to Aiesu. "Enough doses for a week, if you take them sparingly."

"This won't last me two days."

"I'm being generous, because you just made your first real disclosure."

"You're being fascitious... I'm about to become a zombie."

"Then take what you need for now. We'll discuss the specifics later."

Without hesitation, she took what was nearly a quarter of the bottle — grimacing at the horrible aftertaste of the pills. They were something she’d never get used to.

"How about I cut you a deal?"

"Shoot."

"If I'm straight with you, you'll let me self-medicate. If I clam up, you can stop the supply."

"I'd have to remotely control the administration of dosages."

"We both know I won't allow that. My body chemistry is my problem."

"Then you prescribe the amount, to maintain what you deem is a proper allotment. I'll just have the on-and-off switch for when you clam up or open up. If you don't play fair--"

"I'm not a dog" she spat, butting in again. Her teeth were grinding quietly now. She was angry. But a righteous anger. The kind belonging to someone on the winning team.

"No, you're a rabbit." Miles replied calmly, as he eyed the way she was grinding her teeth as he'd said that.

Her features softened, lips curling into a frown now as she became quiet. The warmth in her pale cheeks said she was embarrassed but her eyes said she was still angry with him. But she said nothing. She could feel the edges of her partition fold inside her like an envelope.

"As a Lmanel, you know what it is to train someone, animal or humanoid. If you're going to learn to open up, it has to be on similar terms." Miles explained, using a touch of cultural leverage.

"Nobody respects what they train. If I'm to work along side you, this is unacceptable."

"You respect Albert, don't you?"

Aiesu glanced down at her feet. The large wolf-like form of Albert which usually slept silently on her desk, whom Miles wouldn’t even know Aiesu even had anything resembling kinship with if he didn’t occasionally see as she saw had taken to sitting on her feet to keep them warm - probably because he’d heard bickering. She bent down, running her fingertips along his long long rabbit-like ears and then over his nose with a slow sigh.

She’d normally been too paranoid to be close to him with guests about — why was anyone’s guess — but with so many people around, he obviously felt left out.

"He's an animal. My animal. I love him. But I don't respect him. If I had to eat him, I would. It'd hurt but I'd do it. In my mind, I come first."

"That hurt, that is a key part of respect. Besides, to have a desire to come first is only natural."

"Respect isn't the procedures I’ve performed on him — or those you’ve performed on me.”

Miles quirked his brow at that, she had a solid point, a point so fine and so solid it would be worthy of a Fyunnen to wield. "You're right. I should have consulted you further on the matter."

"I don't even know what you actually did. Only that things are different in my mind and that you went in my head without having to. Sometimes my anger just dissolves in a way that isn’t part of who I am or I feel talkative when I desperately want to leave the room and I’m a passenger inside myself.”

She drew Albert up into her lap as she sat on the floor now, back up against the book-case and her face into the scruff of his neck for comfort. Even laid on her, he was still taller than she was.

“I won't forgive you for that. It would only take me an hour down at medical to work out exactly what you changed — and probably a months to put it back — but I'm going to be civil and give you the benefit of the doubt since whatever I find is probably going to ruin whatever kind of professional relationship we have.”

Miles said nothing.

“If you want my respect or cooperation, I think I'm owed my due."

Carefully now she crossed her arms, very slowly leaning forward and taking the burger straight from his hands. She took a deep bite, staring him down, offering another to Albert who without question scented it and took his own reluctant bite as she rubbed at his ears to try and calm herself. She wanted to boil up and explode, perhaps murderously, but Miles’ handiwork work wouldn’t let her.

There was a fine art that Nepleslians had developed over the course of millennia, the art of a thing called a 'poker face', which Miles wore at that moment, and behind that face he felt a somber feeling mingled with a touch of something that tingled up his spine, and tickled at the latent primitive primate lingering deep down inside of his Nepleslian psyche; it was an anxiety of sorts, one he could not put his finger on, nor dared to at that moment.

"Not to mention, you're still banned from practicing. But that is beside the point." Miles spoke, as he decided that it was still time to leave the bullshit behind; "You're right, we need a mutual respect. It’ll need work, though. Hard.” There were no 'conditional' words in there such as the infamous 'but' or the weaselling 'though', it was just that; they needed to work at even being able to respect one another.

"Mine's in the fridge." she said, taking another bite then offering the last to Albert who gobbled the thing effortlessly, sucking the oily sauce off her fingers. "You can have it."

"Remember that thing about respect? You just stuck me with a cold burger." Miles spoke, before he let out a sigh and got up from his seat, moving to the other side of the counter and to the repurposed cryo-storage pod where he went about retrieving the burger, knowing he'd have to reheat it so the greasy-slickness of the burger would be restored.

Instead, Miles would be greeted with the scent of fresh food, as if the time between him putting it into the Lazarus storage module and now hadn't even elapsed at all. Steam still rose from the packaging.

"I'm sorry, who doesn't know their profession?" she grinned ear to ear.

"I'm not the one who repurposed this thing." Miles replied, as he gave a shrug then took a bite of the burger meant for Aiesu, and as he chewed, he recalled the quantity of duq sauce he had ordered for it. Pondering for but a moment, he shrugged and kept eating just as any proper Nepleslian would.

"Either way." Miles continued as he returned to his seat. "We'll work on being civil, and, we'll work on keeping you from clamming up."

Inwardly, Miles did figure it was a worthwhile pursuit in regard to her rehabilitation; after all, respecting someone required a level of emotional maturity which Aiesu would certainly have to embrace for her own recovery.

 

[OsakanOne]

It wasn't long before Seiren stood before the doors of what could analogously be described as a cathedral. Its structure rather than rising up into the heavens trying so desperately to impress and impose instead sunk deep down into the ground: a swirling helix of old stone-work walls, storm-drains and endless steps along a deep pit in the ground -- running water illuminated about the bottom. Within its centre a small island -- or so he believed it to be small until he took scale of it: a small forest forming the pupil of this massive iris gazing up into the sky and the large obsidian pit about its middle. Water entered one side in red and leaving in the familiar blue, forming dendrites and fibres of colour in currents akin to the texture of an iris.

The creepers and vines growing along the walls of this place were as intricate and as complex as the building itself, seemingly sculpted by years of careful control into human-like shapes: men and women of many sizes and shapes looking skyward with intricately painted features. They were all borne from the wings upon their backs, woven neatly into the structures - vanishing beneath the elbow and the knee, blended as if sculpted. It took Seiren a moment to realise that these figures weren't real.

Natural curiosity luring him down the main steps, he would soon be presented with a large oval shaped white passage, shallow as it was with coved layers of cracked smooth ceramics -- the cracks themselves filled with glistening silvery material, inlet into the wall with a tall spherical bell about its very top -- a dull red rope hanging down low to the door inches above the ground -- its doors easily larger than him but only truly occupying the upper quarter of the door like an egg sat in the bottom of another.

 

[Moogle]

Down those steps, Seiren walked. He clutched a cloth bag - the kind that pushy groceries try to get you to use so that they didn't need to spend more money on plastic bags - containing a select few items he would need.

But all the junk in the world wouldn't do his nerves any good. As bright as he seemed when he got the invitation, he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation, especially once he gazed upon the cathedral. Soon enough, though he couldn't figure out how, he was there. At the door.

Seiren attempted to pull the rope - but then retracted his hand. This happenened again. Once more. Finally, he breathed a sigh, and gripped the rope, tugging down to make the bell ring.

 

[OsakanOne]

Carefully, the doors slid apart with a low rumbling that tickled up into Seiren's chest as they split like eyelids, revealing an inner darkness. Dust hung thickly in the air as he ventured over the cobbled stonework into this strange place. Moving deeper, the walls gradually became smoother, the ceiling sculpted ornately by the same branches he'd seen outside which eventually wrapped about in a slow coil, intermittently becoming the floor before forming a complete smooth bark-less tunnel, bleached and stained in intricate colours by the chemicals in the stone blocks leached up into the tree he was now moving through the bowels of.

As the same rumbling tickled down his back, silencing the light of the outdoors with a resounding thud, cyan clung in the cracks in the tree's form like fairy lights and further beyond, candles.

Soon, he was met with a red line about the edges of the tunnel which rose like steps into a narrower section before falling off into a wider part -- like a painted line. On the other side, two figures stood: one tall and slim with dark skin and dusty white hair mixed with the same orianu that struck the cyan quality into the walls -- pale mask moving to cover her mouth. The other stood almost naked: a heavy set motherly form with thick thighs and fertile form that strangely didn't seem sexual at all - more motherly than anything. Her body had been painted in intricate patterns with the same glowing paints, the two each holding a single lit candle. A third sat on a small table to Seiren's right.

"At this point" the taller of the two began, eyes presumably closed beneath the upper half of her mask, having no need for light in this place "You are expected to cast your body behind. Leave your possessions and your face behind."

 

[Moogle]

Wow. . . they're so pretty. . . Seiren though, nearly gawking at the duo befoe him. He silently nodded and donned the robe he had, taking care to pull his head through first so he could disrobe beneath it afterwards. A bit of flailing here, a bit of shimmying there, and he was disrobed under the robe, and the clothes folded into a neat pile. All he had left was the mask he had made with Lalah's assistance (he really hoped she'd come like she said she would), which he presented to the pair to help him put on. It wouldn't do to have a loose mask from blindly attempting to tie it behind his head, after all.

 

[OsakanOne]

Soon, the pair held out their hands, guiding Seiren over the red line: the area seemingly plunged into total darkness beyond that point as the mask came on with the exception of the lanterns each held in their opposing hands which with no way of knowing how, shone through, giving him an idea of where the two were. Turning about, the Yamataian would soon be guided for the better part of an hour through a labyrinth: every step he made and every step they made deciding the way and the route they would take - like a form of Ouija board deliberated locomotion. And soon, the number of lights would grow, all surrounding him as voices uttered amongst themselves.

"Seira Isbala..." a voice announced. The whole room went quiet.

----

Meanwhile, back at the dormitory...

YOU THERE, LITTLE COTTON TAIL!

“Is that you, Miles? Go annoy Sana… She’s only across the hall… Why am I running on the track? …I need to go faster.”

LITTLE RABBIT! LITTLE RABBIT!

THIS IS NOT MILES:
THIS IS YOUR BUNNY SPIRIT GUIDE

The girl wrinkled her nose.
“Huah? My.. My what? I completed aspectation years ago Huawn..? What do ‘you’ want?”

I BRING A MESSAGE FROM THE GREAT BEYOND; YOU MU—

“I don’t believe in a great beyond. I’m non-theistic…” she yawned.

WHAT A SHAME. T-THEN I BRING A MESSAGE FROM THE UNIVERSE ITSELF THEN: THE GREAT POSSIBILITY ITSELF; IT COMMANDS THAT YOU MUST BECOME FAMOUS; SO YOU MAY BE IMMORTALISED IN DELICIOUS CHOCOLATE RABBIT STATUES.

“…Chocolate… Rabbit statues…? Oh, this is a dream, then? I’m dreaming? Wait, that would mean I’m lucid dreaming…?”
Whoa, that’s really cool… First I shoo—”

NOPE. BETTER LOOK NEXT TIME.
THAT IS ALL.

Aiesu bolted upright. Soon after inspecting her personal space for a possible invaders, she made her way for the bathroom as she followed her nose. She was then confronted with an inky tarry blacked brownness, simmering and bubbling in the tub like lava. She soon dipped her foot into the cauldron before immersing herself.

And then knocking.

Knocking?

Knocking!

“A-Ah? S-Seiren’s making a big chocolate cake in the bath!” she shouted.

Dripping with sweat, she found herself startled into wakefulness in her own bed, fighting for air. She tried to remember from where her dream had taken her: grimacing at the final mental image of Seiren and Miles accosting her naked chocolate laminated body, sweeping tongues, limbs and unspokens about her small form. Sweating, she took a deep breath, exhaling the noise from her body.

Chocolate again, teased at the edges of her senses: the dorm filled with the scent of freshly warmed Lorath chocolate.

Leaning over, she expected her knees to slot into prosthetics only to audibly squeak as her new sensing feet met the ground. Clicking her tongue and taking another breath, a quivering hand searched for her glasses and her pale feet began pitter-pattering toward the kitchen in little more than a slip dress nightgown.

She glanced back toward Seiren’s bunk before remembering. So who was this person?

But soon her expression melted from the faintest ebs of sleepy wretched nerves into something calmer and pricklier.

“W..What are you doing? T-This is my dorm… W-Who who who gave you a k-key?”

Nice going there. The stuttering really makes you sound not only serious but also intimidating.

“I had a key made two weeks ago” a gruff voice would explain. It was Miles. His eyes were on the simmering pot before him which he stirred constantly with a relaxed look in his eyes, inhaling the steam which lifted and cushioned upon the air itself. “I’m making chocolate pudding…”

“Mangling chocolate pudding” Aiesu interjected.

“Well I’m trying to. With your local chocolate.”

She soon stood next to him, wiping at the hem of her dress against her glasses and in the process revealing enough of her thighs for Miles to see Aiesu didn’t prescribe to the idea that underwear was also bed-wear. She then slipped the glasses on, squinting - something about this making her look like a young old lady.

“Do all Nepleslians barge into the homes of others in no more than underwear and cook chocolate at…” her eyes searched the clock. “Four in the morning?”

“Only into the homes of those who don’t own a gun” Miles said cooly with a warm expression as if slipping into a warm bath. “Its our local vernacular for telling you to buy one or become the neighbourhood gimp” he chuckled to himself. Pulling at the large wooden spoon he’d been stirring with, he frowned in disapproval at the way the chocolate stuck like syrup and refused to let go, testing the strength of his arms. While he was an excellent chemist, the pudding wasn’t playing along. “What has you awake at this hour?”

“Bad dream. chocolate… And…” she said with a low silence that hung as thick as the chocolate, trying to keep her eyes on his own and not elsewhere — a task she failed in spectacularly. Her hair-band gave a faint twinkle of glassy light before turning dim. “And what’s a gimp?”

Miles could only chortle. He should have seen this coming: it wasn’t after all, a trade found in most trade dictionaries — if only due to how old it was.

“Gimp. Two meanings:” he said holding two fingers up: “One, a person is used by someone else - a submissive — two, a person is disabled in such a way which decreases their mobility.”

Aiesu clicked her tongue, pattering through the kitchen. “An interesting choice of words”. She soon turned the knob on the cooker down and poured a small jar of something into the pot. “…This won’t melt without milk. Its sold like jelly… Like a tar. Closer to what you call taffy, I think?” she stirred. “Also, you’re burning it. Even if I am a gimp, I know how to melt chocolate.”

There was a wave of intrusion which swelled upon her arrival but Miles’ annoyance soon capsized in favour of interest in lieu of the secrets of native foodstuffs. “So what you people call chocolate is nothing like what chocolate is.”

She stared in disapproval.

“Sorry, sorry. At least, what Nepleslians and Yamataians call chocolate. Ours is a lipid based substance.”

“Ah…” Aiesu pondered, skimming her own thoughts for an answer. “We milk our own from flowers. You call it chocolate because it tastes identical. Its actually a monomer: The local word for it is Z’yu’panh - or if you’re a child begging for sweets, Zuuzuu.”

“Sounds like snuu-snuu.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Our own chocolate comes from large pods that grow on trees” Miles explained, pondering the chemical implications now of Lorath chocolate. The road it took him was an interesting one, evidenced by the way his own expression melted into something far more interesting. “So you add milk so it isn’t chewy and… Rubbery, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Well… Considering the way it was cooking and the source of your chocolate and its texture, it polymerises quite easily, akin to the natural rubber we obtain from certain plants.”

Aiesu stared blankly, not seeing where he was going with this.

“Latex?” he prompted with a chuckle; “That’s what we use to make some of the clothes that fit snug or common-place examination gloves.”

“I.. See?” this concept was clearly alien to her — only to be met with a flutter of sensation through her hair-band as its modem kicked into life, delivering a url from a familiar user by the handle of Wildharpsurgeon with the caption ‘lol latex lol’. She promptly opened the file and was met with a short video-clip of a rather famous Hanako-impersonator in her mock Yamataian bodysuit uniform… Which instead was paint-on latex.

In moments the L’manel’s breathing became heavy, cheeks gaining an unmistakable warmth as she covered her mouth.

“So aside from cooking down, what do you use this not-chocolate for?” Miles quizzed as his eyes settled on Miles. Her response made him smile, fighting the desire to chuckle or throw comment as he played coy - watching the blood run down her chin from her nose.

“L-Long term alkaloid storage… O-Or anything that oxidises rapidly…”

“Alkaloids…? No wonder you woke up so quickly: This has a special meaning to you, doesn’t it?” he nudged her in a tone that alluded to the obvious addiction. His words reminded her of his administration as if it were a leash. “But yeah, I’m mangling chocolate because I can’t sleep: Chocolate pudding is something I’d have back home when I couldn’t sleep. I did make it with other ingredients which you can’t get here, but I think you understand.”

Looking aside, Aiesu tried not to laugh.

“This would put you to sleep… I’m using it to store dyphanhidramine, not opiates, though… A backup anti-histamine, but mostly to help me sleep.”

Miles chortled and with her added explanation, gave a slow nod. “I’m surprised you haven’t put on any weight considering you’d have to eat a mountain of this stuff to keep up with your habits…”

“Its actually… Really not very fatty at all. Its why we add cream or milk before eating it…” “

Miles gave no response.

“Hence why it doesn’t melt? If I ate your greedy chocolate instead of ours I’d…”

Aiesu was struck with the thought of Seiren’s cooking and his utter insistence on Yamataian chocolate: fingering at her waistline through her slip-dress. She sucked her lips, feeling a doughyness that her fingertips sunk into that she wasn’t familiar with.

“So… I assume you chew it, since you’re not cooking it down to be eaten?” Miles suggested, pretending not to watch her.

“A-Ah? Essentially like gum, yes.”

His reasonable deduction was short lived in Miles mind as he thought on what a few pounds would do for her figure, stifling the thought with a shuffle of words. “Makes sense. So how did your house-pet’s ceremony go?” The sharp change in subject, he hoped, would lead him away from the questionable path of drugs and latex.

“He’s not come home yet… I’m not going to get a word out of him for about the next three days or so.”

“Mm” Miles nodded, leaning against a near by counter, eyeing the rest of the dorm in a process and how much it had changed. “Is it weird at all, for a foreigner you’re living with to be involved with your castes ceremonial practices?”

You mean more than I am? You can just say it, Miles.

“Mm… Not really, no” Aiesu rolled her shoulders. “Any male who climbs toward the lofty heights of femininity with its strengths and accomplishments and succeeds is loved in our society, even if they’re an outsider. We’re probably xenophobes but we’re big sympathisers too, which is why the Occhestran problem was so dangerous. Well, this and he can do things with chocolate that have his class-mates in love with him.”

“Phrasing” Miles said sternly, eyeing Aiesu.

“Eh?” she peered up, not understanding. Her hairband sent out a query of semantic again, eyes reading text that floated in her vision.
“Ah, we don’t connect chocolate with sex like you do. Our association is meat: specifically sea-food.”

“Then what does this say about a L’manel bonded to a carnivore?” Miles inquired, curiously.

“W-Well…” she cleared her throat. “Taking it for yourself is different to giving it to another.”

“And an aquatic carni…” Miles stopped, eyeing Aiesu, mulling over his words and deciding against the nuclear option.

There was a moment of clear and considerate thought. Maybe even a streak of maturity… Then Nepleslia in all its glory took over.

“Ever share your food?”

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, deciding whimsy and indeed, the nuclear option were worth it.

Aiesu stared.

“No. I live on dehydrated dietary mix and my medications.” her gaze went skyward. “Seiren is considered to be sharing his food, however, since he cooks without detachment…”

“The matter of phrasing endures.”

Aiesu took a breath, about to hold it in her cheek the same way Seiren would when he was annoyed, but decided against it.

“Nepleslians are obsessed with sex, aren’t they?”

“Its how we managed to survive longer than our recorded history can trace back without relying on excuses like aliens, progenitors or dimensional theories” Miles smiled, giving a cheeky shrug. “Really though, I’m not the one who brought up sharing food traditionally and its association of romance in culture.”

“I was objective. Where were you? I’m done.”

As miles watched Aiesu leave, pitter-pattering toward the bunks, he tossed something her way. “Some how I don’t think you’re leaving out of my lost objectivity. Besides, there had to be a reason you respond so strongly to this, even with that lack of objectivity: The great Aiesu Kalopsia I know would just dismiss it, like you always do.”

She made only a simple gesture with her hand before climbing into the bottom bunk, settling her glasses aside and cocooning herself up in bed-sheets. She sprawled out like a starfish beneath it all, feet nudging the edges of the ball, triggering a chase of cussing and disparaging words about foreign-style beds.

Miles only watched, wondering why she wouldn’t fight the good fight. Instead, he shrugged and returned to his saucepan and his precious thick pudding which filled him with glee. He soon poured it out into a plastic container and went about crossing the hall, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

>Wildharpsurgeon began pestering causticLucidity:

<WildHarpSurgeon> Thanks for the pudding.
<causticLucidity> You’re welcome.
<WildHarpSurgeon> Sleep well.

>causticLucidity disconnected at [04:43, May 21st, YE0036]

 

[Moogle]

Soon, the pair held out their hands, guiding Seiren over the red line: the area seemingly plunged into total darkness beyond that point as the mask came on with the exception of the lanterns each held in their opposing hands which with no way of knowing how, shone through, giving him an idea of where the two were. Turning about, the Yamataian would soon be guided for the better part of an hour through a labyrinth: every step he made and every step they made deciding the way and the route they would take - like a form of Ouija board deliberated locomotion. And soon, the number of lights would grow, all surrounding him as voices uttered amongst themselves.

"Seira Isbala..." a voice announced. The whole room went quiet.

Nervous feet met the cool ground, sending shivers up Seiren's spine now that he was deprived of his sight entirely, and forced to listen to the sounds of what seemed like endless catacombs. A sneeze tried to force its way into reality, but he managed to stifle it safely.

Huh, I wonder if somebody's talking abou- wait, of course somebody is. That's what I'm here for, after all, he realized, his legs tenatively stepping instinctively. Even though he was guided, it was just natural for him to be worried about tripping and faling.

When he entered the room, a sense of. . . hushed awe washed over him. It was an imposing presence, though it could have been his mind doing an emotional placebo effect. It was his first instinct to try and respond verbally - but he stopped himself before the sound rose in his throat. If Seiren could recall correctly, while the bottom of the mask was in place, he was not allowed to speak. So, he nodded in the direction of the announcement, just to show his acknowledgement.

 

[OsakanOne]

"...You are charged" the announcer began, the room hushing once more... "With the crimes of pursuing not only others but yourself... Of gluttony, subtle cunning"

The room was billowing like flame now: a carpet of whispers and utterances, a sneer unbent beneath the undercurrents about Seiren's ankles.

" ...and most notably leading a noble and most worthy lie. How do you plead?"

 

[Moogle]

Seiren wasn't sure what to think. He knew they expected a response, but he wasn't supposed to speak with the mask on. Or was he? Were the rules different now that he was actually in the place? He struggled with what felt like hours of indecision (though but mere moments had passed). In any case, the construct had decided that the safest bet was to stick with what he already knew.

He raised his left hand with the index finger bent so that the middle knuckle was pointing prominently. Then, he drew it to the mask and rapped once, twice on the bottom half.

Please don't let this be some cultural taboo I just violated. . . he worried to himself.

 

[OsakanOne]

"I asked you a question: How do you plead?"

 

[Moogle]

Seiren hadn't expected this.

Crap I wasn't expecting this! he thought, trying to figure out a response. He considered giving a thumbs-up/down, but realized that hand signals were different for different cultures. Nods were generally accepted as a sign of affirmation in most cultures, and he was pretty sure he was guilty of at least half of what he was accused of.

He nodded, hoping dearly that this was the right answer.

 

[OsakanOne]

Silence. No response. As if he were alone in the room with himself and the speaker alone.

And then?

"I can't hear you."

 

[Moogle]

This was frustrating. Were they trying to bait him into talking? Lalah told him that he wasn't supposed to talk with the bottom in place. And unlike Aiesu, she'd actually gone through the whole ceremony! So she couldn't have been wrong, right?

Uuu. . . damn it all. Wait, when he meant cunning and a lie, did he mean my nationality? Then maybe if I do an acceptance thing? Ugh, whatever!

He bowed deeply, in traditional Yamation style. It was a gesture of respect, but also of subservience. Maybe this was the answer he sought.

 

[OsakanOne]

The darkness muttered to itself - waves upon waves of confusion and alienation now... And then tittering laughter.

"To 'present' yourself to us was not the answer we expected... Again, I ask you one final time: How do you plead?"

"You won't be needing your eyes to do that..." a familiar voice tittered: the lower half of his porslain mask pulled aside with a crisp glassy click: moist air finally meeting his lips.

 

[Moogle]

Seiren said the first thing that came to mind.

"G-guilty!"

 

[OsakanOne]

A crisp knock sounded at Miles door.

Upon the other side stood a pale figure in -- of all things, a blue Yamataian school swimsuit and an unbuttoned shirt over it -- an ice-pack hugged up against her front in one hand like a child with a teddy-bear clinging to her body. Her gray tongue spilled over her jagged teeth -- struggling for air in the thick heat. Her feet couldn't remain against the floor: lifting and swapping from foot for foot against the hot Lorath wooden flooring.

"Gunn? Guunn??"

The air was thick, sweltering, syrupy. She knocked again. Louder this time.

Within the room, belonging to the door which was being knocked upon, resided just the Nepleslian which was being searched for, though, he was not exactly quick to respond as he sat upon a chair not even a meter away from a window-mounted air conditioning unit, with something in his hand; a tumbler of scotch which was being cooled through an elaborate thermoelectric cooling rig which made the cup look utterly excessive, but, it satisfied his needs. Well, at least his needs were satisfied until the knocking began.

"What the devil has you knocking when it is this bloody hot?" Miles sounded from behind the door, the impact of the scotch being somewhat clear in the casualness of his tone with the little Lorath woman who was effectively his boss and patient. Despite his words being harsh in substance, the actual tone was not even near as rude, if anything, he sounded almost welcoming despite his complaint... however, he did not even bother to get up to open the door, it was too damned hot for that kind of courtesy without a reason attached.

She looked like death warmed up. The shadows under her eyes thickened in dehydration... Glistening like a wet-fish -- the gills of her ribs oozing thick blue against her pale shirt which she had presumably hoped the swimsuit would hide, her skin sickly in this heat. In a mousy voice, trembling arms tightening about her ice-bag familiar she pointed toward her door.

"I... Need for your help. With. Something..." between breaths.

She swallowed audiably, already turning about, expecting him to follow as she fumbled with the key to her door -- dropping it. Her shoulders rolled in irritation as she bent down to pick it up -- struggling with the lock with those trembling hands again. They felt so heavy. And indeed, they were.

Within his room, Miles listened to every sound which came after Aiesu's request; it was not every day someone with cybernetic limbs went about fumbling with something as simple as keys. She don't sound too good... considering the data I have on her, I imagine this heat is something pretty awful for her, but, this ain't her first summer so I don't know why she'd begin to need my help... I suppose that is reason enough to find out. Miles figured, as he got up from his seat.

Setting aside his elaborate tumbler of scotch, the Nepleslian toweled his bare shoulders off, bare thanks to the Nepleslian-styled undershirt which he wore in conjunction with a pair of slacks which had their legs rolled up to his knees. "Oi! Sana!" Miles called out for his fiance, not wanting to wander off without letting her know where he was off to.

Sana gave a simple nod -- steam rising as she flipped some cloud-like configuration of ricey colourful food in a thick pan beneath tickling flame -- only sparsely acknowledging him -- and then the pale girl next to him with a nod as she returned to her pan. Her grin was particularly wide: worryingly enthusiastic about the dish she was preparing: untouched by the heat.

"Sure, sure. Does she want some?"

There was a quirk of Miles' brow, as he stepped behind his wife-to-be, drawing a retractable cord out from behind his own neck, before plugging it into a simmilar port which was nestled near Sana's brainstem. "How you holding up, dear?" Miles asked, despite the fact that he was about to perform a diagnostic on her, considering this was their first summer on Lor, he had not had the opportunity as of yet to test her new body with a long-term intense heat situation... especially one worsened by being in front of a stove of all places.

"Ah~?" Sana beamed quietly. "I'm perfectly well, thank-you. I think seafood was a good choice, though I'm not entirely sure I recognise everything I'm cooking with... They have things here that don't even need de-shelling or boning though, so that's nice" she ponderously continued -- preoccupied with what she was doing moreso than what it was he'd intended.

Elsewhere Aiesu sunk with a bang to her knees -- clawing at her door now. It took her a moment but finally she wrapped her fingertips about the handle -- though immediately slammed the door shut afterward, deciding against returning just yet. Though her reasons were many, the blast of heat from the room likely had something to do with it.

(Insert some fancy formatting here for electronic comms, gotta dredge up some fancy here.)
Syschk, auth user, MG, PW: ********************************
Auth. . . . . . . . OK!
Syschk; /chkneuralstability, /chkcoolingsys
Waiting...

As Miles' own cybernetics conducted a hand-shake and dialog with Sana's, he turned to look in the direction of the door, as his cybernetic eye adjusted to peer through the wall, and at the slumped Aiesu. "Get in here already, it is cooler in here than out there, not by much, but some."

"My legs don't want to waaaalk..." she groaned again, dragging herself back into Miles room. She'd made the mistake of leaving her keys in her door though -- soon pulling herself up against the refridgerator. Without a second thought, she noted its vastness, opened the door and clambered forth, shutting the door behind herself.

There was a silence from Miles, as he simply watched the moment unfold before him. It was a pathetic sight, seeing Aiesu drag herself along, until she entombed herself within the confines of the refri--- "H-H-Hey! We keep food in there! Get your leaky body out of there!" demanded Miles, as he remained anchored to Sana for the time being, until her diagnostic finished reporting as to her condition.

"I'm not here. You just think I'm here because you're suffering from heat-stroke" a quiet voice sounded. "A person could never fit inside one of these."

"A properly grown person perhaps not. But a stunted bunny, I'm sure can fit." Miles countered, as the twinge of annoyance entered his voice, as he thought on just how much work it was going to be to properly sterilize the interior of the fridge at a later point, considering he was rather sure that Aiesu was not entirely without any sort of hitch-hikers which biological organisims were prone to.

"That's nice"

"It was not meant to be."

Syschk result: Neural stability 92%, Memory Cache Integrity: 74%, Temperature Chk: 43.3C ---- Within Operational Parameters.

There was a soft 'click' as Miles unplugged from Sana, giving her a pat on the backside. "You be a dear and keep with that, I've got to remove some spoiled fish from the fridge." As he spoke to his fiance, he made a note to give her a look-over, figuring that her fixation on a task was due to the memory cache needing a flush, a problem likely caused by the increased heat. Even though that problem existed, he knew that she would be fine on her own... just a little focused on one task at a time, which in a way, was a good state to leave her in; after all, she would not be missing him immediately.

With the sound of the seal around the fridge door being parted, Miles opened the box of cold and food, before looking in at its sole living occupant... well... aside from the cultures which he kept in the crisper.

"Go away."

"You'll asphyxiate in here."

"I'd rather asphyxiate than melt."

"I could speed that up by strangling you."

"Your wife might be into that, sure."

"You're lucky, she is having a memory buffer issue, she would not even notice, so, I have no reason to indulge the notion."

"A pity... Might have been fun."

Aiesu caught the inner door of the refriderator, slamming it shut.

There were solutions to such problems, as Miles stepped around to the side of the refriderator, and went about parting power-cord from socket, robbing the wonder-box of its ability to maintain the cool air within. He knew the food would keep longer than Aiesu would.

"Nice try. This is good for at least two hours before it achieves thermal pairity. Are you going to strangle me with the cord?"

"Not with you inside, mucking up the cool air with your warm body... and no, the cord is too short, and not nearly thin enough to properly wrap."

"Pity. I won't lie, I am curious. Go away."

"You know, I could remotely go about disengaging your limbs, then carry you out of here like luggage."

"With or without erotic consequences?" Aiesu's voice came, deadpan.

"Yes." Miles replied crypticly.

A rattling sounded as the door opened just a crack, cerise peeking out from the darkness.

"Your Lorath is terrible, you know."

"You're terrible, you know." Miles countered, as he made a flourishing gesture, in the direction away from the box which Aiesu was being evicted from.

"I am what I am. And what I am is melting." she said, dripping in condensation, making her not just oily but now shiny.
"Its why I came to see you in the first place... I think my work-station is broken."

"The fake one or the real one?" Miles inquired, knowing that there was a workstation meant to appease prying eyes which may make their way into her dormatory room, and there was one which was the unit which she actually used for her work, as his boss.

"The real one."

There was a moment of pause, Miles knew that the workstation Aiesu used genuinely had been engineered by Aiesu out of imported parts, it was a small marvel it sputtered out "Have you kept it properly ventilated?".

"Ventilated... Huh... I'm not actually sure I can return to the room. Its too hot."

Miles' brow furrowed in a judgemental scowl; "You kept it closed up, huh?"

"Pollen is my mortal enemy, second only to you and ..." she sighed wistfully, speaking of someone who's name would go unspoken from within the bowels of the refridgerator.

"You know, they make these things, they're mysterious things, called filters." Miles explained condescendingly, before he thought on a matter; "Are you being too stingy to buy an air filter for your room?"

"...They don't work. Our pollen is about one hundred thousand times smaller than yours."

"That's pretty small." Miles mused, as he gave a light shrug; "Then use one of your filters, from what I understand, the Matriarchy produces a nanomachine filter for airborne particulates."

"On an industrial scale. On our boarders. Because we lived under-ground for thousands of years. Whatever makes it past those is fair game and we're expected to deal with it. Some of us are less capable than others."

"Guess we'll have to custom order one for you, that, or build one... but, that won't solve your immediate problem, will it?" Miles asked rhetorically; "How important of a thing were you working on when it melted down?"

"The matriarchy's next line of frames... And everybody elses. And a work-station that wouldn't melt."

"By the Matriarchy's, you mean Lazarus' huh?" How bold Miles was, but how honest as well, considering that he just made an accusation that a 'typical' Lorath would find utterly insulting, considering that national loyalty was something indoctrinated in nearly every Lorath from hatching onward... in some cases, even before leaving the shell.

"My point is, its too hot and the machine overheated. Then I passed out because of the heat. Lorath summers are not like Yamataian summers."

"Your own damn fault, when your people retook the surface and rattled the Helashio, you just had to go and destabilise the atmosphere with particulates, then, with that moon drop it just made things worse. Sure, the IR gets through just fine, and a good sum of sunlight too, but it just makes it damn impossible for this rock to cool down properly."

"...The parts were Yamataian. And Nepleslian. Do you think that has anyhting to do with it? Lorath computers just... Aren't that great, if I'm honest. Software's all written to run on Kessaku. Even with a compatibility layer instead of emulation to run my own OS, I need compatible hardware"

There was a laugh from Miles, amused by Aiesu's general lack of national pride, but, he was not about to hold it against her, all he got out of it was amusement really. "Alright, alright, I'm not going to keep berating you. Though, the first thing we need to do is get that room cooled down before we even begin working on anything."

"How do you suggest we do that? I can't move money. That's why I'm so frugal."

"Wait, you've been making all of this money, and you don't even know how to launder it? How were you planning to use it?"

"Layaündeur?" she echoed. Evidently there was no Lorath equivalent for this word.

Miles paused, forgetting for a moment that both of them tended to speak to eachother while using translation software and hardware to make it possible, and when a snag was encountered, it left him somewhat surprised each time. "Ahh..." He sounded, thinking on how to explain; "Use a Helashio dictionary for it, try again."

"...I should soak the money and move it?"

There was a soft sigh from Miles, as he gently shook his head, then went about the long and detailed explaination of money laundering; "Money laundering is the process in which one person, group, or organization uses another person, group, or organization to obscure the source in which money was obtained, and, to sufficiently do so in a manner which renders currency unable to be traced to an original source. This process is often carried out using businesses which may or may not be legitamate, investments which are often illigitamate, and through currency exchanges which are almost always illigitamate. An example of money laundering would be to take funds obtained on... let's say, Nepleslia, with their DA, through an act such as... slave trade, yeah, you can relate with that. Now, that money is able to be traced to being obtained from slave trade, so, the Yamataians would want nothing to do with it. So, what is done at that point would be to either put the money through a local business which is willing to be a conspirator to the act, then have them pay the money out to someone else. Invest the money in a local venture superficially, then have the money paid out to another person. Then, there is the option of exchanging the DA for Lazarus' currency, which can then be bounced between user accounts, then exchanged for KS."

There was a deep breath from Miles; "And this is why your culture refuses to adopt currency."

"...If things start turning up at my physical address, that would be unusual."

"Your men here, they tend to go about a process of courtship which involves elaborate or practical gifts. At least your Lmanel men. Why not claim a secret admierer sent them?"

"...A secret admirer is going to send me an industrial level refridgerator and a new computer. Though... I could fluff it with more perverse things?" she said: thumb running beneath the line of her hips of her swimsuit: drawing the fabric away and then letting it snap back with a crisp smack. This would of course have been a meaningful gesture were she more developed.

There was a smile from Miles, the sort of smile which was distinctively a match to the prospect of perverse things, though, he did not speak on the matter as he let the thought simmer in Aiesu's overheated head for a moment, before he shifted gears back to the matter at hand; "For now though, let's go with this option, your doctor wants you to remain cool, and without excessive emotional stress." As he spoke his words, his hand fished into his pocket, before pulling out his wallet and producing from it a thick fold of the paper-equivalent to the KS. "We'll have a delivery service bring a cooling unit, some components for an air filtration system, and replacement parts for your machine. First though, we'll have to assess the problem... well, problems, really, considering every one of those solutions needs planning."

Her eyes explored his -- almost uncertain but something about his expression comforting as she for the first time emerged from the refridgerator. She trembled some, tightly huddled in her shirt and the swimsuit beneath -- redness revealing where her prosthetics joined her body in a smooth red line. The white fabric of her suit had become clear in places, about her belly where she'd been huddling the irce. Her smile matched his though -- in moments like this, Miles one of her own species in a way, whatever animal that was.

As soon as Aiesu emerged from the refridgerator, Miles plugged the appliance back in. "Alright, we've got work to do it seems." He spoke, as his cybernetic eye went about quickly tracing over Aiesu's body, recording and noting all that he saw, he truly was lecherous even as he was being as helpful as he could be, it was just Nepleslian nature. "First step, let's see about what we can do for getting that room cooled down enough so we can at least work in there to diagnose what went wrong with your machine."

"Its broken."

"... And you're designing the next Lazarus powered frame?" There was a skeptical tone to Miles' words; "We need to find out what is broken inside."

"I know my own equipment. I don't know much about foreign hardware... Truth be told, I take most of my advice from a friend. I didn't even know Kessaku was a thing until about six years ago."

"To be fair, your people did not even know Yamatai was a thing until about eight years ago. So, I see your point." Miles acknowleged with a light shrug; "No wonder you needed my help, not because you were melting, because you don't know what to do with that equipment. Clock me in boss, time for me to be a consultant." With that, Miles picked up a canvas bag which was beside the larger black leather bag which sat beside the door of his room. Two bags of tools, for his two fields of work. "Take me to the patient."

They soon braved the room: sauna like with thick heat and humidity alike -- sat before a rather bitter smelling stack of small suitcase sized computers, row upon row in a column bracing against the ceiling. But it was the thick unit to the left that she pointed to.

"My hub... It makes the calls to the kessaku stuff on the right. Does most of my heavy lifting... Isn't working."

There was an audible sound of a sniff from Miles, as he stepped past the stack of computers; "These don't smell too good either, Nepleslian capacitors I take it?" He inquired, as he made his way over to the hub, recognizing the hardware as he approached. "This is old equipment... talk about being frugal... the hardware I put in your skull is better than this."

"The caps are old because there's nothing Nepleslia make anymore rated at the amperage I need to drive a Lorath processor. We use optical gear but our own bulps and caps are really expensive."

"Optical? Now you're being really frugal, your up to date equipment uses neural processors... but those are vulnerable to some exploits that Lazarus cooked up..." Miles quirked his brow again, looking over his boss, before producing that same smile which originated from the perverse corner of his mind, but, that was the same corner which housed his more Nepleslian instincts; "Boss~ Are you trying to keep yourself seperate from the company~?"

"...It isn't a company. Its more like... Like a big family. And like every family with power, we're power hungry and back-stabbing."

"On my homeworld, we call that a gang, or a cartel."

"We prefer the term consortium."

"Cartel."

"Close enough. Either way, we manufacture most of Lor's military hardware. My family keeps my home safe."

"Does that bother you at all though, as an Orthodox?" Miles inquired, knowing that there was a little bit of conventional Lorath deep inside of Aiesu, after all, that was what made her crippled to begin with.

"My mother is orthodox. Up upbringing was orthodox. My mother tongue is orthodox. That doesn't make ME orthodox."

Miles shifted his gaze to the hub, which he began to work the exterior casing off of "Your missing limbs say otherwise."

"Yes, because my oh so impressionable genom is answerable to my brain" she said, rolling her tongue through her cheek -- a common indicator of Lorath sarcasm.

"... You used sarcasm wrong there... because your genetics as a Lmanel...nevermind it." Miles dismissed the matter, as an audible click sounded from the casing of the hub, before he pulled it away, revealing the antiquated equipment within. "Really though, backpedaling a little... if even you say this 'family' is back-stabbing, does that make you worry for your Matriarchy at all?"

"We remove the weak links. Its why we're better for Lor than ... Well, that would be treason to say. But you know what I'm thinking."

The machine, from the looks of it had been hand-built from parts: components soldered and linked together in ways that really really should not have worked.

"There's your problem." Miles spoke, in a semi-amused tone, before he plucked a device from his bag, it was an old design, with two leads which led out from the device, which he went about touching against one of the gold-laced lines which ran through the custom-made board. "Try turning it on, I want to check if current is passing through here properly..." Miles' thoughts lingered on their conversation however; "You know, things could be worse for Lor if designers keep looking outward, instead of in."

Aiesu's finger hovered by a thick switch as she watched curiously. The bulps -- glass-things like bulbs or valves all popped in sequence, sending glass into the opposing side of the frame. Rubbing at her arm where a shard had caught her, she tried not to laugh, watching smoke rise.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Miles exclaimed, as he fell back on his heels, narrowly avoiding losing his second eye.

"You know... I think I agree with you" she tried not to laugh, pulling the glass pieces out of her synthetic fore-arm. It had caught her cheek too but - probably because of her painkillers, she hadn't noticed.

From his position, flat on his ass, Miles had the rare opportunity of looking up at Aiesu's face, as he let out a chuckle, before he looked back to the smouldering wreckage which was Aiesu's hub.

She glanced back -- her ice pack having melted into the floor now, chuckling to herself. About to remove her shirt, she caught his stare -- self-consciously drawing her thighs together self-consciously before returning to her former stance. In some ways, she was more like a little boy than a girl in the way she handled what she thought were his advances, pretending now not to notice.

"Its fine. I'm half done building another but I need to get what I'm working on off this one first."

"Well, the storage appears to be..." Miles inched back over to the smouldering mess, while pinching his nose shut with his fingers as he studied the interior, before he turned to face Aiesu, while releasing his nose so he'd save himself the embarassment of sounding like some sort of duck. "Solid state crystaline type? Rather nice... I see where you put your money. It should be fine. We can transplant this piece of hardware over to another machine and retreive the data easily."

"Not quite. I need the cypher, which is still in memory. The medium's encrypted. Well, actually, obsfuricated. The ...Issue is... The memory's..." she pulled another piece out of her arm, holding it up before glancing it over.

"I think I might have to start over."

"...Well shit." Miles breathed, as he mulled over the issue for a moment, before looking at Aiesu with slightly narrowed eyes; "And you're telling me you haven't saved anything you were working on to your onboard memory? Even as a visual record?"

"We have competitors. Many competitors. And other nations want our work."

Miles pressed his lips together in a frown at that statement, but not a frown of deep concern, it was more of a frown of awkward annoyance. "Well, either we can decypher the data, or, no one is going to be getting your work."

"Miles... What do these look like?"

She carefully pointed to thin white lines about the base of the caps - powdered like snow. Each and every single one had one -- as did most of the hardware around all the components blown.

"Either residue from overheated compounds." Miles stated, as an initial observation, though his eye peered closer; "Or, an intentionally placed material. Either tamper protection or --"

"...I don't use chemical tamper protection -- its all manual" she interjected, leaning closer now. The motherboard evidently was still working as she tapped against something, skimming results on some tiny unlit display. "The DIOS says its been running unusually hot for the last month. I couldn't pin down the cause and... I was too lazy to crack open the case, because it was locked. I thought it was a software issue or just the weather. I build my machines to fail so they can be scuttled... Out of cheap parts so nobody gets curious about them... But nothing's ever failed explosively before. Its usually just a soft fizzle. But the motherboard is usually totalled. Yet its still working. And the storage, which is re-enforced, is wrecked. Its all backwards."

"It has not been this hot before though." Miles spoke, his frown returning anew, but, he knew what she was getting at. "I won't make much excuses however, I see where you're going, but at least the unit was not operating properly to begin with... the component I was testing was the FSB."

"I'm not sure I follow. Eff Yess Beyye?"

"Front-side-bus." Miles explained, and decided to use Lorath terminology; "Data-exchange-route." He pointed inside of the smouldering wreckage; "This was the channel which routed information from those little fucking shrapnel tubes, to your drive."

"Hah. They're good, aren't they?" she couldn't help but chuckle again. "So fragile. All I have to do is over-supply the voltage and they fizzle out. Complete deniability."

"Yes yes, but what I'm saying is; if someone was tampering, they did not get anything, the cypher would have been unable to be properly executed due to data loss, your overheating problem caused your shitty soldering to leak onto the data exchange."

"You're assuming of course that our hypothetical sabetour didn't try to remove something before whatever they presumably did."

"From what you were saying before, anything that would have been removed would have been useless minus the cypher, so, whatever could have been removed is still just as safe as it is now."

She leaned closer, eyes skimming the board again.

"Come take a look at this. See this? The terminals are fused. That's nolonium. You don't fuse nolonium contacts like this without .." she clicked her tongue. "Someone's plugged something in and its snapped off. My shitty wiring is a blessing, it seems."

"Way to redefine success."

"If you cannot allow the world to change you, you must change the world. If you cannot change the world, it is you that must accept that you are wrong and must change. X'hylar 44:3. I think you need to reassess yourself, Miles."

"... And you're saying you're not Orthodox?" Miles countered, before he got up from the floor, and looked around, as Lorath scripture brought a thought to mind. "Where's Albert?"

"Uhh... Sleeping?"

"Some companion he is, from what I understand, Lmanel companions are meant to be, you know, like support? Helping pay mind to the things outside of the attention of the person who they're bonded to, you know? Though... where is he sleeping?"

"My bed" she said, fanning herself now. "He's fine. Are you done?"

"Well, if someone was intruding, I was curious if he'd have seen anything." Miles spoke, as he went in the direction of Aiesu's bed, snooping about.

"Why, would you ask him what he saw?"

"... Clues? Information? Wait... you don't..." Miles again looked skeptically in Aiesu's direciton; "I've seen other Lmanel with their bonded animal communicate almost fluidly."

"Alright but I need you to leave. He's... Not good around strangers."

"He seemed pretty alright to me, last time I came through with him here."

A bang sounded from behind her book-shelf.

"Ittai nani?" Miles spoke in Yamataian, as he heard the sound, then looked to Aiesu, then to the bookshelf. "I thought I saw something there, but I figured it was too damn cliche... come to think of it, that's a Nepleslian cliche, not a Lorath one."

"A-Ah... The wall behind the book-shelf is broken. There's no seperation between me and my neighbor."

"And you bother with so many door locks, if someone can just come in through a wall?" Miles countered, before he strode over to the bookshelf, as his eye switched between various portions of the EM spectrum, looking for a switch, a hinge, or some sort of sensor.

Shielded. Layer after layer of material. But that same shielding sat behind the wall of her bathroom too. Aiesu soon stepped between Miles and what it was he was looking at. Whatever it was, she'd gone to lengths to shield it from all sides, presumably from the inside like a lead briefcase under X-ray.

"H-Hey now..."

"Huuu~ I can see through your swimsuit~"

"...See what through it?" she motioned, covering herself. "That's low, Miles Gunn."

"Ha~ Perhaps, but I'm not the one who walked in front of an active sensor." Miles spoke, before he gave Aiesu's bookshelf a knock; "So, how do you open it up?"

"You don't."

Miles thought on the matter, putting himself in the shoes of a Lmanel, before he decided on the best course of action, bringing his fingers to his lips, before releasing a short whistle; "Albert!" he called out, in a kind and upbeat voice.

Aiesu grit her teeth. An enthusiastic thump sounded from somewhere behind Aiesu's bathroom.

"H-H...H-He's out. H-He wanted air. You want to know what's behind here? F-F..F-Fine."

Her fingers fumbled against a latch... Smoothly she pulled, struggling -- to move the book-case across, revealing a second beneath... A hidden treasure tavern of books, DVDs, posters and assorted objects and small boxes. As the book-case opened outwardly, an assortment of posters of a familiar figure were revealed. There were even tiny intricate statues, individually painted by hand -- many of the same outfit in different poses: Some small and child-lie, others of the figure in question of an exaggeratedly womanly form. To say the least, It was an impressive collection, years in the making. She panted there on the tips of her toes, quivering with the exertsion of opening it.

"You know." Miles spoke, blinking a few times, as he took in the full sight of what Aiesu so boldly revealed, breaking one secret, for the sake of another. "If you uh... had better implants for your audio-uptake... you'd have heard the thump from your bathroom..."

"He's outside. Ledge. We're... He's... Ey'tis" she said. "They're very very good climbers."

Aiesu could hear her heart, blood flooding her temples, head pounding, a soreness bringing her knees together.

"You know, she was a better liar." Miles spoke, gesturing to one of the posters, sparing a momentary sneer at the image, as a bitter era bubbled up in his memory, but was soon banished by the mystery; Nepleslians loved mysteries, it was like their bread and butter.

"H-Haa... You suspected I was like this all along? R..Rotten... Fujoshi is the word, isn't it" she struggled. Once again she stood between him and the object of his interest. "I-I insist you don't touch anything... I-Its almost all mint condition o..or ... ...Used." she said with a heartfelt tremble.

"Smells used." Miles stated in observation "Besides, I knew you were rotten since Ondine station, you were not nearly as discrete with your stash there... of course here, this stash would border heresy."

"Y-..You won't tell anyone, will you? If you do I'll... I'll ... Make it known you're he--"

"Not if you show me what is in the bathroom."

"Piping. Its a boiler."

"But you said Albert was climbing on a ledge outside of there, as I said, she was a better liar than you. Besides, the Nepleslian male brain is capable of analyzing geometry well, including building structure in relation to size and room placement. Your fibs tend to be two meters short."

"Sometimes he gets into the piping from the outside. Because some of it is cold. You may go."

"Besides." Miles started, as he strode past the dead piece of equipment.

"You. May go."

She was trembling now.

"In translation from what you called this equipment in Lorath... you called it a hub. Hubs are transfers for information, they don't process on their own, and are not used as workstations." Miles spoke, as he made his way in the direction of the bathroom.

Aiesu soon put her way in his way yet again, her back against the door.

"Leave."

"Well, I don't really care now." Miles spoke, as he gave a shrug; "You tipped your hand, your actions explain everything clear enough, so I'm not going to pry any further." With that, he stepped away and went to the kitchen, where most of their exchanges took place, as he went to fish a drink out of the stasis pod there. "I can build you a new hub within the day, based on your issues with your walls... I think we could get a life-support system off a scrap shuttle and use it to cool your room and clean the air."

"P-Probably..." she said again. Another thump. And then another. And then what could only be described as chain pulled taut, jingling.

"You know, he is not exactly helping your case." Miles spoke, as he unscrewed the cap off of a water container.

"Who?"

Miles tapped at his ear "You really need to tune up your implant, I can hear thumping and jingling from your bathroom. Its within organic hearing range."

"Ah..."

"Yeah, 'Ah', you know if that keeps up, I'm going to get concerned and I'll have to check, right?"

"You..." Thump. "Don't have to."

"Of course I could ignore it, but that would be negligent, furthermore, it'd be downright stupid to ignore something like that." Miles' almost predatory smile returned though; "However, I could conveniently forget I heard anything, but it'd cost you."

The L'manel grumbled, baring her teeth now. A few beads of sweat ran from her chin, tapping against the wooden flooring. From the flicker of her eyelids, she could hear her heart beating between her temples.

And then came that rotten smile, the one she'd tried for so long to hide.

"What do you want?"

 

[OsakanOne]

Not even hours had passed and Seiren was now in the thick of it. Around him, L'manel of every colour and curious description chanting in unition: a frothing angry mob with his little lordship trapped in the middle upon a pedistool now. Some arcane configuration of brass and glass hung over him, an almost phallic shape settled to his lips from the ceiling as the words filled the hall -- hands gripping every part of him now, even those he'd rather they didn't: feeling out his skin, tasting and touching him in some big mixed swirl of personhood -- and for him, all of this took place in total darkness to his vision -- his body tingling now in smeared oils that robbed him of his paleness -- bronzed and glistening with oil and sweat dripping beneath the hot heedy lights and the heavy drumming, all eyes on him yet none he could see.

One word sounded through the hall. Again and again. "Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

As was L'manel tradition.

 

[Moogle]

The Yamataian's nerves were on fire. He had heard of the term overstimulation before, yes. In some candies, he had thought he had found the term's definition. Of course, Seiren now realized that those prior cases were entirely wrong in measure.

Rivulets of the honeyed liquid trickled out of the corners of his mouth when he couldn't take it all at once. The contact across his body made him squirm slightly, forcing burbled but cute moans to sneak their way from his person. Still, he drank what he could. Though, he did wonder what would have happened if they had taken away his mouth instead. . .

 

[OsakanOne]

Soon the pipe was pulled away: hands from all sides ruffling his grey blue hair with affection like a favoured owner with a pet, so many cooing voices hushing his name and saying such peasant things -- a strange overwhelming wave of unconditional love. Soon a particular set of hands stood out: Strong, thick, heavy.

They settled beneath him, scooping him up and depositing him effortlessly on a shoulder -- holding his thigh with a reassuring squeeze as another held his hand aloft like some boxing champion -- and the crowd burst into cheers: a smack tickling at the boy's ears as the tall figure placed a kiss on his hip: a very very Lorath gesture.

"Now little one~" a voice pierced through the crowd, blunting its cries into smooth silence.

"Are you prepared for your sentence?"