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RP: Lorath [SAINT-Lazarus] Operation: "Oroboros"

Not a flinch came from Helen, nor even a glance in the direction of the flying pottery. She simply sat, with hands folded in her lap, as she listened to every sound, every scream, every bitter breath which rolled from the Lmanel in the next room. It was that quenching moment, which she knew would send the Lmanel's thoughts reeling, that made her fly off the handle in such a way. Helen's decision had already been made though, she was not going to muck about in her soft-handed method any longer, not with the way that Lalah's mind shifted from hot to cold so readily. What she was witnessing from the Lmanel was purely that rigidity struggling to endure, while being on the cusp of shattering into something that the operative did not want in the least. What Helen saw was not an opportunity to return to what she had planned as a 'reward' for the Lmanel, but instead, she had placed her thoughts upon something more effective, and less mutually indulgent.

Helen let time slide by, until those sounds of sniffles came, which prompted her to step into the kitchen with Lalah, where she eyed the damage that the rampaging Lmanel had done. There was not a word from the operative, as she gauged the situation upon stepping into view of the reptilian Lmanel.
 
Lalah sat at the very far side of the cramped kitchen. It was more like a corridor with cooking utensils: a sink on the right, oven on the left, cupboards into the ceiling. There wasn't really room for two people. A large standing window of frosted glass sat at the far side of the room. But she'd seen fit to change it.

The electric oven had been ripped out of its standing, cracking the counter-top above it. The boxy cheap cupboards ripped down, smashed into stacked wonky flats; their contents spilling out onto the counter. The sink gave off a strange earthy smell. The frosted glass had a head-sized gap missing, a large crack running up through it like a north and south pole: Setting sun diffusing through it in purples. Blood tickled about its corner; then over the silverwork of the sink. Framed photo smashed with bare-foot. Blood again.

And she sat on the floor. In a huddle. Wrapped up in herself: knees up, head down, hands over the back of her head. Trying to occupy the smallest physical space she possibly could, trying to disappear from the world. Her heels skipped against the floor, sensing Helen's presence; a wince as raw horn struck the window. The cant of her knees slid; closer and closer to the window as she stared up at the woman: all of her visibly driven away. Her heels marked red against the cheap white plastic flooring: trying to back off into some further space behind herself that didn't exist.

The shadow of Helen drowned the light from her eyes.

Arms lifting to cover her face. Like a child expecting to be struck.
 
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Wooden soles crunched and scraped upon the glass beneath, as Helen strode through the kitchen. Her gaze going to each broken item, as she gauged just how close Lalah was to matching the surroundings. It was pretty damned close, to say the least, and it left her knowing that she was going to have to be delicate in the way she handled the next few moments, which would serve to shape the whole of the Lmanel's life from that moment onward.

What came upon Lalah was not a word, not a strike, but a gentle grasp which came upon her from beneath, as Helen lifted the Lmanel into her arms, cradling her as she carried the Lmanel out of the kitchen. She did not return to the couch where she had initially shaken her nerves, but instead, Helen took a much more casual approach, as she eased herself onto the floor, and continued to hold Lalah in her arms. "You're bleeding." She spoke in simple observation, as she frowned lightly, it was going to be quite the trouble to clean up the scene without raising too many questions. "You do not have to be afraid, not of me, not right now." she spoke softly, while trying to put Lalah back into a better place; "You've just had a break, now, you must put youself back together, just like you will those pots when this is all done and over with." she spoke, touching upon that Lmanel philosophy which was poured into what Lalah had shattered upon the wall, there was no true loss there, just change.
 
♫ Aivi & surasshu - "Lapis' tower"

Lalah felt a lump in her throat. Hand, at her side curled into a ball. But arms wouldn't offer the tightness to make a working fist. And shoulders wouldn't throw it even if she could. The muscles were all in working order, if tired, but she just didn't want to. Even hours ago, she'd wanted to throttle this person. To strangle them. To mangle and maim and rip them apart with impulses that frightened even herself. Violence wasn't on the cards.

Watching carefully, she could see Helen's lips moving. She could hear sounds. The noise of speech: Words though, did not exist. Confusion flooded her palette: eyes searching Helen's for answers. Had she been struck again? No, nothing hurt. Fingers were sore though. Feet stung. But not hurt-hurt. Drugs? No involuntary twitching, not and cold, shaking. In fact, stillness. There was only stillness. Everything felt so quiet. The L'manel hid her eyes away; repeated experience telling her that every time eye-contact lingered, something bad would happen. Instinctive humility pressed her against the person in soft ways where eyes couldn't be seen; hiding in plain sight.

Instead of the words then, Lalah tried to focus on the tone of what Helen was saying.

She was transfixed. Not words or meaning. But sounds. Warm sounds.

Helen's hand sat on the back of the L'manel's neck. A terribly strange thing to do for a foreigner. But she knew the significance. Helen demonstrated it earlier with hands that went to places that hands weren't supposed to go. Why weren't they supposed to go there? It was frightening. Why was it frightening? It gave Helen a power over her. And it felt really good. Lalah thought further: Helen had already proven that power, even without sexual contact. Time and time again, she'd turned the alien down again and again and again.

What was the point, really? She was easy to look at, though Lalah's eyesight wasn't the best. She smelled good, even if she ate terrible things that sullied that smell. Her words had always been punctuated by intentions and layers of things she could see the edges of but not the insides. Without words though, her voice was actually pleasant. Very pleasant. It made the inside of Lalah's chest feel tight and dirty, unclean and ugly. But she couldn't ignore it because it was exciting and even new. Unclean because she was played time and time again by this person using techniques she'd studied at university herself: Being manipulated and played up. But why would she play now? Was there anything in the words, even the ones Lalah couldn't hear, that she could trip over? Would she even have a reason to be lying about anything?

The feeling inside her chest had leaked. Like she'd been cracked: Pouring like hot cream first into her belly beneath her abs; her breath quickening as it had; and then lower still. It had been there for a while; maybe even a few minutes, but the L'manel had only just in this moment noticed.

She couldn't fathom why she didn't cover herself and her unsightliness or the vulgarity of it. She'd done it so many times before around this person; wrists over it, a flash of thigh and then things were hidden away where they couldn't be noticed. Where they couldn't offend.

Her closeness finally came away as she began to remember how to decode sounds back into words. She could still smell Helen, a thought that punctuated her thoughts, robbing many of the words leaving only the ones she liked behind:

Afraid; Not right now. All done. Over and done with.

It was like baby-talk she sneered inwardly, annoyed at herself though not showing it. She stared back incredulously, trying to find Helen's meaning. But her frown filled in the gaps.

The horizon stretched on forever in Helen's eyes. Dunes of haze scorched yellow down into dry brittle greens of tinder; a glimmer of white emphasizing their roundness and wetness. Like a Savnnah. And then lower. Warm parts touching. Contact. Smells. Shapes? Oh the shapes...

For the first time, Helen was very, very easy to look at.
 
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YE 36 – One Yamataian Week After Subject Break

It had been a week since the shattered glass and ceramic had come to litter the floor of Lalah’s kitchen, and it had been a week since the heavy scent of narcotic laced smoke had permeated the Lmanel’s home. It had been just short of a week since a bag was packed, and the apartment that Lalah called home was left again to sit vacant without her presence. It was the seventh day of mending the broken, repairing what was damaged, what was shattered, and needed to be pieced together. Much like what was to be done with the pottery which littered the floor of the Lmanel’s house, the same was being done for the Lmanel herself; pieces added, pieces changed, and put together into a whole. In place of liquid ceramics and polymer glues, there were kind words, tender touches, and veins filled with drugs. In place of sanding paper and a file, there were incisions and sutures. In place of paint, there were electric shocks and direct nerve stimulation.


It had been a week for Helen and Lalah, it had been a week for Helen to apply her craft upon the Lmanel. Though, for Helen, the Lmanel was a single stroke to the full work which she was set upon creating. There were many components to the piece which she was making, the full piece, assembled from her efforts twice over. What Helen needed for what was the current stage of her work, was to continue to establish a sound foundation to build upon. A crippled Lmanel, a fugitive, an AWOL soldier, the scraps of technology which littered a battlefield on a distant world, the reports of a treaty-bound High Priest seeking his own answers, these were the things which had made the foundation so far. What Helen needed to further her efforts, was another living piece to the whole, another avenue into the maze which had been built around a mystery, and Lalah was going to give her that.


With word of what was seen from on-high, Helen knew her time-frame was narrowing, and so, it was time to begin the next juncture of her work. A scheduled meeting, an intricate arrangement of tools, and a plan of action, it would all come together, she hoped.

It is time for you to visit your dear friend .

Yes, I know she does not like strangers, she will not find any when she opens the door for you.

I promise I will not hurt her.

Don’t be afraid, all I want from you is for you to be you.

You’ve been such a good girl, I will be sure to give you a reward when we’re done.

Words flowed like honey into the ear of the string-bound Lmanel as the unseen voice which strode beside Lalah continued holding her, stroking her with invisible hands, poured those sweet words into the Lmanel. Hidden behind trickery of electromagnetism and photons, Helen accompanied Lalah to where she would meet the next piece of the work at hand.
 
It was a bright day. Almost painfully as she stood atop the inside balcony of a block of flats. Eyeing the message on her slate, reading then checking the number on the door, lips making odd shapes as she explored her surroundings. Normally, she'd always let herself in but this time she was met with a rolling handle as the brown door slid open.

The two stared at eachother: Lalah taller until the figure stood upright, dark brown eyes staring through her.

"Its me."

"...Is everything alright? You don't seem yourself."

"I'm ... Just a little shaken up. Someone went looking for the other one" she said, stepping closer to the door.

Her companion didn't budge, frowning some.

"Arlyle?"

"Did they get her?"

"I... I don't know."

"Oh. Well, come in, come in.."

The floor was covered with pillows and bedsheets, even as far as the door, making pushing it aside tricky as Lalah followed her: A tall figure with dark black hair, wild in shape and length with tall ears a Nepleslian would describe as bat-like. She followed the other lmanel and soon found her feet beneath a kotatsu, being served tea in a room with blank white walls and almost no furniture, her back up against the wall.

The place was pretty barren, lacking even a basic couch. A few takeout boxes were dotted about, as well as a recently set up display on the wall, a small fishing box of pharmaceutical abusables she'd dabbled in while watching movies with Arlyle, playing the role of the blind woman's vision who saw through Lalah's own eyes, and an attache marked "toys" that had always been there in each apartment she'd visited that she'd never been brave enough to ask about.

Within a few minutes of Lalah starting on her tea, Arlyle was already behind her, massaging her shoulders.

"Let's start with something nice. How have your studies been?"

"Um.. Pretty good. One of my professors was actually a customer recently. You know the one?"

"Mmm, I remember. Little bunny Susu can be quite a pain. How about you? Have you met anyone?"

"No..."

"Have you been friendly with anyone?"

"N...No?"

Arlyle's nose met Lalah's shoulder from behind, then her neck...

"Nnn...? You smell different."

"N...New perfume."

"I thought so. I recognise it. I didn't know you liked Yamataian scents..."

"Y-Yeah well..."

"You've always been really good with foreigners. Something tells me it was a gift."

"Mm, a repeat ... customer at work."

"Aah, I see, I see: An older woman, is it? Do I have competition?" she chuckled quietly.

"N-No, nothing like that..."

"You're lying. I can smell it on you: You're smitten with someone..."

Lalah chocked on her tea, coughing profusely: Arlyle patting her back.

"Aaah, I'm right, right?"
 
An open door, it was an invitation for some, an opportunity for others. Like some sort of pest, or vermin, that opportunity was seized as Lalah was invited into the plush room. It took only a glance from Helen to know that the floor was simply not an option, as her feet left the ground outside of the door, and soon she slipped her way in, as if crawling past the top of the door frame, yet not touching once. Invisible, weightless, like the mythical spirits which primitive cultures spoke of. Silently, she took her place above the two, her lungs were full but still. Perfume that she had used over her time on Lor had been washed away, leaving her odorless. There was a silent thanks in Helen's thoughts, praising her heartless body as she looked upon the ears which adorned the host which had welcomed Lalah inside.

Wait for it...

Helen listened to the two speak, allowing them time to converse, to exchange words and sentiments, to fall into old patterns before doing anything that would begin to raise alarm. In doing so, she took steps within steps, listening to glimpses into what normally would take place, gaining insight not only into Lalah, but the person she was seeking.
 
♫ Regina Spektor - “No Surprises”


Hours had already passed since entry. The two had spoken very little: sleeping against on another in silence for nearly four hours like hamsters in a cage, each occasionally fawning the other in turn before awakening and deciding discourse was needed.

"You're very focused today" Arlyle's voice oozed warmly, motherly as she ran her tanned thumbs through Lalah's shoulders, chin atop her head as she sighed quietly.

"Eyes forward and all that... What's on your mind?"

Something caught Lalah's attention, Arlyle turning her head in the same direction.

"Oh! Hello."

A deadly silence hung between Lalah and Arlyle. Her blood froze, sensing maybe Arlyle had realised what was happening.

Colder still, sinking through her guts as her breath became heavier… Knowing she was selling her best friend out, realising the weight of her actions, wondering just how she’d gotten here. She felt a lump in her throat.

And then a quiet welcoming laughter tickled through the taller of the two.

Cold went to ice. It was deadly now. Terror billing up in Lalah’s throat powerfully.

"Its a bit late, isn’t it?”

Lalah’s eyes searched, stumbling over her words before spotting colours in her peripheral vision:

A small bird walked along the floor outside of the sliding door: white with brilliant blue highlights, nibbling at seed Arlyle had placed hours before: last chases of sunlight purple streaking through the sky above.

“B-Blue-bellies?”

“Mmmm. They were supposed to be out months ago, weren’t they?”

The relief was incredible.

“M-M-Moonfall."

"Oh?"

"The climate's been weird since moonfall."

"I see, I see"

"Maybe we should watch something..."

"Did you have anything in mind?"

"Well, no..."

"I've got a few films if you'd--"

"A-Ah! Not that kind!"

Lalah fought for the remote as Aryle took a sip of her alcoholic tea - hot sake by Yamataian definitions as she felt her smaller friend fumble through channels that teased hr long ark bat-like ears, eyes blank slowly fluttering closed with a relaxed sigh: sinking her lips against the back of Lalah’s head, taking a deep breath of this strange new perfume.

"Oho~ You're so cute when you're flustered. So a lazy weekend, is it?"

“I’m sorry its been a while…”

“Oho, think nothing of it: you’ve been meeting so many new friends. First, Mr. Miles, now this mystery woman?”

Arlyle took another deep breath of Lalah.

“Is your lady friend Yamataian, dear?… In hahakotoba, the language of flowers… Those are tulips… Red spider-lilly… These are some very interesting choi—”

“I’m so—“

Arlyle’s finger met Lalah’s lip.

“Sssh.. Hey now, don’t worry… You’re having new experiences, right? Good or bad, they’re all part of growing up. I’m not your mother: You’re not accountable to me, alright? You’re allowed to make mistakes. I’ll still be here when she breaks your heart” she chuckled quietly.

“…”

“Lalah?”

“What?”

“Why are you shaking?”

Slowly, the smaller lmanel turned her head about, amber eyes gleaming, choking up as she cleared her throat. Without hesitation, Arlyle pulled her closer, fingers through her hair in a hushed voice.

“Easy, easy… Its alright, its alright… You can tell me… Take your time. You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.”

She was trying to put on an air of bravery, clearing her throat as she did as most Lorath women did: saving face as best as she could.

“Its fine, don’t worry. I’m just jittery. What…” Lalah frowned. “What did you put in this tea?”

“Oh…” Arlyle glanced aside, quiet laughter in her throat. “I thought you’d recognise it right away.”

Lalah nudged Arlyle back, the two exchanging playful roughness before Arlyle’s back met the oversized bed-pit that was the entire room; her glasses (though useless) up over her head: messy long thick black hair cascading beneath her with a thud.

Silence again, hanging between them, Arlyle letting the dust of the moment settle before her lips curled into a coy smile.

“I’m quite a sight, aren’t I?”

“I… What? Oh, I… Uh…”

“I didn’t think you were interested in things like this. I always teased you but you couldn’t ever look at me like that. And now look at where your eyes travel… Where did you learn this?”

“W-Well…”

There was a fit of giggles from beneath as Arlyle lifted herself up, giving her smaller darker friend a pat on head, rubbing it in as she raked her nails gently through the other lmanel’s scalp in a way only the two were familiar with.

“Its fine, its fine. Eyes on the film, alight? If you’re not watching it, I can’t see it.”

“O-Oh, right, right.”
 
There was certainly something interesting in watching the pair speak to one another, to keep the company of each other, but it was also an invasion that Helen at any other time would consider rude, but, for her job it was something she felt numb to. Sentiment and compassion were stored away somewhere within her, somewhere out of reach, leaving her to remain focused upon the task at hand. There were clues, there were traces, little ripples in the pond that was Lalah, signs that a stone had broken the calm which was her life. Ripples, which were quite possibly going to scare the fish away.

It was time for silent words to be spoken by the looming intruder, carried through the air upon the marvel of radio signals, subtle to the point of Helen needing to direct the signal to the nearest Matriarchy repeating receiver.

Comm relay destination, Lorath Self Defense Force, transmitting ID...

Silent speech continued, as words became data, and data became messages, and were relayed along a chain of machines and people, until they were received by those in the skies above.

Request confirmed, orbital scan station link established, time-sharing window reserved for 8 Yamataian minutes. Command access will be discontinued after reserved time-share allocation has elapsed.

A vital tool was in Helen's grasp, as she put it to work. Certainly she could just shine the orbiting sensor platform upon her location like a spotlight, but that was hardly going to be effective for covering her true intention. A wide range of active sensor output was then thrust upon the city district, moving in a steady sweep, covering a broad space as it passed. What the sensor saw was a far distant concern, as she instead paid mind to when the active quantum scanning system took to sweeping her location.

In Helen's mind, it was like watching the light of the sun creeping across a floor as it streamed through a window, and as the sweeping sensor scan came upon her, the room, and the two beneath her, silently she descended as she released the contents of a container, contents so small that not even the vision of her synthetic body could see them; femtoscopic machines, configured into a sensor role, femotosensors which slipped between the spaces of molecules, into synthetic flesh, between nanometer thin seams of hardware casings. With the payload released, she ascended again to be out of reach as she monitored sensors from on-high, and those which were in the realm of the infinitesimal. What she watched for, was nearly as small, yet she watched with the same attention that would go to an angel dancing upon the head of a pin, watching a subatomic particle performing a dance, which changed ever so slightly as it gained the audience of the quantum sensor from above, and the femotosensors within, a dance that it shared with another particle light-years away, a particle that Helen wanted to know all about.
 
♫ Regina Spektor - "No Surprises" (Instrumental)

Almost immediately, Arlyle froze on the spot: gears slowing to stillness for just a moment. Her uplink to the ‘real’ her much like how Aiesu’s constructs worked relied on a quantum 1:1 — a pair of coins who were locked in entangulation, each always mirroring the atomic and electrical structure of the other as a sort of two-way instantaneous radio across endless distances of known space.

The scan was a known problem: that while normally a 1:1 was impervious, if the difference in monitoring power vs the unit itself was big enough (and truly it was; the scanner about the size of a football stadium), entangulation could be broken as the observer effect kicked in: Quantum phenomena were wonderful when they worked but so cripplingly shy that if seen, they ceased to exist until eyes fell closed.

While many relays and proxies of these devices sat between Arlyle and the construct all it took was for the local unit to be knocked out and network access went with it.

She sensed something was wrong. A light behind her eyes moving as code roared into life and the doll took on a life of its own without strings; all within a single second. Seeking connections of her own into the radio magnetic soup of transmissions of the world, wirelessly fingering server databases and queries for satellites that could have done what this.

Unscheduled. This was unscheduled. Someone has asked for this to happen.

The user requesting and scheduling the scan was apparently some Nepleslian law-enforcement group, searching for a known culprit for smuggling some compound she had little to no interest in. If the user had been classified or Yamataian, she’d be running for the door now but this seemed… Not too out of the ordinary. Helen had covered her tracks well.

Slowly, she moved, reaching slowly for a metal object beloved by all Nepleslians that in warmth was happiness: her gun. Not that it was actually going to be of any use but she squeezed her hand around the grip anyway.

Lalah sat, feeling change. Posture, air, all of it. She knew the difference between constructs: rather, the transition from dealing with a person to dealing with a simulation of a person. It was like an outline: The black line separating them so obvious but the white on either side indistinguishable.

She felt herself bounced on larger woman who’s lap she sat upon: forcing her knees together, hands on top like cherries as a slow hushing came from above. Abs clenching against the small of her back.

Like a mother with a baby.

Then she felt Arlyle’s arms close protectively about her in five point harness, elbows middle, amber following the gleam of the gun that made Lalah’s blood run cold, watching in the far mirror on the opposite end of the room as Arlyle’s tall battish wings swept in odd shapes, like a cat in searching, scanning for the faintest quietest sound.

Was there going to be a shoot-out? Was this all going to go horribly wrong?

And then Arlyle, holding her like that. She tried to shift, sensing she was going to become a meat-shield. Not because Arlyle knew to do so, or would even consider it but the simple truth that someone who called themselves "the librarian", someone blind, someone who needed help even LOADING the gun didn't understand the basics of a shootout.

Every time Lalah tried to move, squirming, all she got was soft hushing and words telling her to be still. More thoughts came: That Arlyle couldn't even point the gun AT someone, let alone hit them surely.

Then she thought of Helen. Who she was.

There would be no hesitation.

"Arie?"

"Ssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

No.

Please no?
 
Whoever is on the other side, they have a sense of humor... 'Blind as a bat', Really?

Helen mused on her thought, as she lingered above, silent, still, but she had taken the opportunity during the change-over to shift her position a few meters further from the bat-themed construct, and closer to the door. Her gaze was unblinking, unwilling even to bat an eyelash, as she stared upon the blind construct, the blind construct which was stupid enough to pick up a gun to try to feel safe.

Idiot, if I wanted you dead, you would already be dismantled and sorted out into piles on the floor.

One thing was clear, that sentiment about the construct's impulsive behavior was shared, as Helen looked at the expression upon Lalah's face, seeing the tension that spread through the Lmanel which was being held by someone who was clearly paranoid to the point of irrational behavior; clutching someone like a security blanket, while putting them in harms way.

Lalah, if you have any sense, you're going to ask to leave after this... we can get out of here, before she starts taking potshots at anything that sounds amiss, and at this rate, she seems like someone who would not be outside of the realm of imagining.

It was simply a matter of waiting for the SAINT operative, simply a matter of waiting for an opportunity to slip out the door just the same as she had come in. There was no need for contact, no need for a confrontation, it was strictly information gathering, she just hoped that the blind construct would be on the same page of a different book.
 
Ten solid minutes of a silent standoff.

Thick air. Hot air. Humid. Cold, but unable to cool off. Burning.

Lalah found her phone vibrating, something that had both flinching though Arlyle lacked the natural instinct to take aim or fire: and she did at least have the sense to use trigger discipline: something Lalah had shown her again and again and again so many times over there was no way even her constructs wouldn’t remember it.

“What is it?”

“Something at work” Lalah frowned.

“Can’t you tell them to ask someone else?”

Arlyle’s grip on the gun loosened. Instantly, Lalah was taking it from her. She cracked open the chambers. Loaded. But the safety was still on; maybe some of her yammering had finally stuck with Arlyle. Finally. Lalah breathed a sign of relief.

“Well.. Haa.. if I want to study abroad I need the credit. I want to study xenobiology. Besides" she needed something good here "Aren’t... You always pestering me?”

“For photos?” Arlyle’s voice lit up.

“…In the uniform, yes" Lalah grumbled. Arlyle's intuition on matters that interested her was just uncanny.

“I am indeed. You’re not the only one with an interest in xenobiology.”

“I’ll…” Lalah sighed. She had to bargain. “I’ll send you something nice.”

“Mid-way into the shift. It has to be.”

“What?”

“It has to be mid-way into the shift.”

“Why?

“Well, you drink at work, right?”

“Right…”

“I think that question answers itself, don’t you?”

Lalah could hear how wide Arlyle’s smile was.

“You” brown fingers reached up, patting the larger woman’s temple; mussing up her hair the same way an owner might a dog.

“Arlyle, You’re terrible, you know that?”

“Just Nepleslian.”

“That if I do, you won’t share these with your friends?”

“Only my very closest friends. But nowhere public, don’t you worry.”

The two spent another hour grooming one another, Arlyle spending most of her time gently tweezing Lalah’s scales where unwanted to leave her smooth and at another point with surgical gloves massaging a calcium deposit into dissolving from a uniquely worrisome area common to many lmanel that Helen had neglected and that Lalah couldn’t reach on her own.

Closing the door behind herself, Lalah found herself buzzing: her hair a mess: Brows high, eyes struggling to focus. Being in Arlyle’s psychic grasp was an inebriant of its own, like a sponge for stress that always left her light-headed whenever the two parted. She licked the back of her palm, exhaling against it before scenting softly — confirming her suspicion of duqs — Lor’s dear love of opiates in just about everything.

♫ Radiohead - "No Surprises"

Lalah took in the now navy blue sky. Cloudy wisps from ships passing overhead criss-crossing, still catching the last glints of purple and cerise, like a web-work of curved lines or a cage. The gradient that no matter how hard she looked never seemed to stop or start anywhere. And on the other side, stars already glinting as the sky sat in front of its mirror, putting on its work face.

Lalah had to do the same.

She was already dressed in her uniform but an overcoat and a backpack made her look more like a student of one of the more uptight universities in the area. It squeezed the dark petticoats together into a long dress and covered her upper-half, formalising what was intended to be whimsical - which suited her purposes.

It was only when she stepped off the platform and onto the train, bag on her lap that she saw a familiar face dressed in a Nepleslian style business suit enter her car a total of three stops later. Of course, this person decided to sit next to her.

Lalah began typing on her phone again, letting work know she might be late before she paused, skimming her work calendar on the local business server. Something wasn't right. A lump of realisation tightened in her tummy, making her realise how all-reaching her tormentor's ability, how all seeing she could be: They were closed for renovations.

What surprised her wasn't that she got the message: But that she'd checked earlier, that business was running as usual right up until she got a hundred steps from the apartment she was visiting.

It was a mystery she wanted nothing to do with; but the answer was sat next to her.
 
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