Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

CLOSED | lapis, week three day two.

[sunderings]

[ Clack! A soft sound, the noise a pebble makes when it meets with a windowsill.

Clack! Louder, when met with a pane of glass.

Clack! And a third time cannot quite be called coincidence, not when the hour is late and the celebrations of Harvest week quieted, the many revelers newly returned from their work upon Leith fast asleep where one (1) Company man decidedly is not.

Rest has never come easily to Sion, pained by a great many things (the physical and the not-so), and with Company internal investigations well underway—Sion, himself, placed in the thick of them—what keeps him awake is the weight of the lives he carries; the thought that their sacrifice will be for naught if he is unable to fulfill his purpose.

(To find his mother and to see Westerley free; to preserve something soft, gentle, and carefree as the day when he had first met Lapis upon Leith, their hands linked by the promise of something better.)

Clack! One more throw, and if it should go unanswered, Sion will take his leave of his friend's residence for the night without disturbing her slumber.

(Though in his heart, he hopes that she might wake; that he might be able to glimpse her face before he takes his leave for the moon they once both called home.) ]

[oneirism]

[The first clack gets Lapis to blink, briefly looking up from the book in her hands, before her attention turns back to it.

The second gets her to lift her head for longer, eyes focusing on her window now. Watching for a moment, before her eyes glance back at the book.

The third convinces her this isn't just some random noise, and she she stands, hands absently smoothing out the fabric of the sweater dress as she watches the window.

So when the fourth clack comes, she sees the pebble hitting against the glass - no hesitation in her movements as she opens the window, sticking her head out to find the source.

Gold eyes widen when she spots who it is, a mix of relief and concern washing through her as she leans a bit further out the window. Glad to see that Sion is doing well, but she can't help but worry what brings him here so late.]

Sion? [She leans out a bit more, her hair trailing over her shoulders as she peeks over at her friend.]

What brings you here?

[sunderings]

Ah...?

[ Head cant, to the side. Like a child caught with their hand in the proverbial jar of sweets, Sion rocks back and forth upon his feet, his weight shifting from toebox to heel in precise rhythm atop the dirt-paved street. And then, his moment of sheepishness blossoms into a smile; a simple happiness of seeing her, his friend, bathed in what slivers of starlight manage to sneak in through Old Town's cityscape.

A finger tapping lightly to his cheek, he gives a decisive nod of his head before he answers, honest and innocently forthright: ]

I couldn't sleep?

[ Though as to why, he'll not readily confess: far be it from him, to burden her with such a thing—Lapis, who he had just reunited with; whose inquisitive gaze seems to always inspire his mischief where her concern plucks at his heartstrings.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle enough not to be overheard, but certainly strong enough to reach her ears: ]

My apologies, for calling upon you at so very late an hour, but I wished to tell you something. [ And though there is some distance between them, Lapis just may catch a flash of impishness to his smile: ] May I come in?

[oneirism]

[Lapis just watches as he rocks back and forth on his feet, head still tilted curiously - but his smile is one that's easily returned, even as curious gold eyes keep watching him. His words get a soft chuckle, but a dubious raise of her brows, not believing that that's all these is to it.

But she keeps waiting patiently, still smiling softly as she listens to him - only to then blink at his request. Not hesitating to nod as she leans back a bit from the window, gold still watching him for a moment longer.]

Yes, of course. Give me a second. [With that, she vanishes from the window - the sound of doors opening and closing echoing through the air for a moment. Before the door just to the side of Sion opens, her head now peeking out of there.]

Alright, come in. [Once he steps in, she leads him up the darken staircase, briefly illuminated by a flickering light. Soon opening another door that leads into her apartment - small by cosy, with a mis-mash of plants, ornaments and books covering most empty surfaces. There's a small couch in the room, bright, covered in pillows and well-used, which Lapis motions him to.]

Here, sit down. [Pause.] I don't usually have people over much, but do you want a drink of anything? I only have water and tea though.

[sunderings]

[ While he'd been well aware of the location his friend had come to call home, Sion hadn't imagined a day when he might pay her visit there until the very instant when he'd looked up after beginning to walk (for how long had he navigated the twists and turns of Old Town, his thoughts turned pensive and consuming?) and found himself beneath Lapis' windowsill. And now... now she leads him inside, revealing a small space decorated with an artistic, eclectic touch, and no less than seven plants.

Lapis, this place is yours...?

Perhaps just a touch amazed by the bright swaths of well-worn fabric and hand-picked ornaments (the idea of permanence and the ownership of things which brought one joy), Sion hesitates for the breadth of a moment before setting foot further into Lapis' home.

This place where he suddenly (remarkably) feels at ease.

And then, then he is told to sit down, but true to his inquisitive nature, he remains on his feet, his golden eyes memorizing all there is to this room; this second in time. ]

Tea would be lovely. [ —his voice rings, soft-touched with notes of awe. But then...! ] If you give me direction, I can set some to steep.

[ It is the very least one can do, after all, so soon after showing up for a visit unannounced. ]

[oneirism]

[Despite how Lapis presented herself as calm and so, well, flat, most of the time, she always figures it's a surprise for people when they see her apartment. The idea of living somewhere bland has never been appealing, especially after spending all her childhood in that lab. Though she's never really had many people over in the first place.

But now she does have a guest, one that's a close friend, and so she sets up tidying the place up a bit. Which isn't too effective when most surface are already covered in something - but she at least manages to clear some space from the small coffee table by the couch.

Gold eyes then glance back at Sion, not surprised he's still standing - or that he offers to make the tea. Placing her hands on her hips now as she looks up at him, giving a slight shake of her head - clearly determined to stand her ground about this.]

You're the guest, Sion. So I'll make the tea and you sit down. [She cares little for how he turned up unannounced, instead simply glad to see him. And so she wants to try to be a good host!]

[sunderings]

A terrible guest. [ —he corrects in a small bout of (half-hearted) protest, a twist of an apologetic smile upon his lips as meets Lapis' eyes (glancing down where she looks up), gold locked with gold until, ultimately, he relents with a light as air laugh; a shake of his head. And so: he sits with shoulders squared and his chest broad, his posture militant as though he hadn't any true idea of what the word 'relaxation' meant. ] Next time, I will be sure to bring a hostess gift.

[ But what would be appropriate? Something as vibrant, as warm as the space surrounding him, he thinks. Perhaps a tea blend, to be shared together on quieter days, or even nights like this one—where Lapis is stubborn, her hands placed squarely upon her hips (just as they had been, once upon a time, when she had been defiant of her parents, bold in a way which had surprised him), and he is happy to simply be beside her; to forget the word surrounding them, if only for a little while. ]

Your home, it reminds me of the way you sing. [ Silver lashes hooding over gold eyes, he looks to her with a soft, almost reverent, expression. ] Your voice is always vivid, colorful, and warm.

[ And that is the Lapis he has always known, despite her propensity to always fall at an even sort of calm. ]

Did you perform, earlier on in the night? I hope I did not wake you from sleep.

[oneirism]

A terrible guest. [She repeats it, still looking up at him expectantly, almost as if she knew this would be her victory and was just waiting for the inevitable. Simply and quietly waiting until he relents, and only giving an amused huff once he does - tilting her head slightly at his words as she watches him sit.]

You don't have to, I'm just happy to see you. [Seeing the people she cares for is all she wants, really. Now she hums softly as she goes to prepare the tea, reaching for two equally colorful mugs from the cupboard before getting the water for the kettle. Gold eyes peeking over her shoulder at his words, blinking before she smiles warmly.]

I'm glad you think so. I always feel I express myself best through singing, so I'm glad it comes through. [Underneath the perpetual calm, she's so much more boisterous and energetic than she seems - though only a few have really seen this side of her, off the stage.

There's a wave of her hair at the question, a nod of her head as she steps back to let the tea steep - leaning against the counter as golden eyes keep watch on the tea.]

I was, but you didn't wake me. I haven't really slept yet, or tried to, since I have trouble with it most nights. [She states this simply - for as long as she can remember, sleep never came easily to her.]

[sunderings]

[ Though she turns from him, minding the tea as it steeps, Sion hasn't yet lost sight of her expectant look; the too-cheeky (impossibly endearing) satisfaction which had crossed her expression in the instant he'd ceded his ground to her, obediently taking a seat. I'm just happy to see you, she's said, and more than anything else, those are the words which he'd needed to hear: they are a weight off his shoulders, granting him a lightness of being which sees him settle in, his posture easing though he remains ever-aware of the space surrounding him; alert. ]

You and I, we are similar then. [ His eyes catching sight of her profile, he bows his head with a sheepish smile—the lighting indoors is better than lamplight by far; inside, the dark circles beneath his eyes are readily apparent. ] Rest does not find me readily on most nights, either.

[ He is, after all, the legendary "Demon Administrator"—where there is work to do, he will see it done, sacrificing all else to accomplish it.

(Even his own morals; his beliefs. All the facets of the boy Lapis used to know.)

Softly: ] ... What is it that you see behind your eyes, when you try to sleep?

[oneirism]

[It's strange, seeing someone sit down here, when it's only just been her alone in this apartment. But it's... nice, too. With how much she throws herself into her work, she doesn't really think about how lonely it is here.

But that's depressing to think about, so she just focuses on her guest, brows furrowing when she catches those circles under his eyes. She can only imagine, how hard it is for him to sleep sometimes... So her expression softens, sympathy appearing in her eyes before her focus is drawn back to the tea.

Quietly and quickly finishing in the preparation for it, before pausing at his words. The silence that follows a thoughtful one, and she hums softly as she approaches with two steaming cups in her hands - one placed on the table in front of him, before she flops next to him on the couch, her own mug held securely in her hand.]

It's not really seeing anything. For as long as I can remember, I think I hear... Voices, when I sleep. Something about them is familiar, but I just chalked it up being linked to what happened. [She both means the experiments conducted on her before she was born, the one thing he knows about, and the explosion she caused, the thing he doesn't.]

What about you? [Golden eyes focus on him once more, sipping at her tea as she keeps the cup clasped in her hands, letting the heat of it warm her hands.]

[sunderings]

[ Thank you, he murmurs, reaching to take the mug of tea into his hands, his fingers curling artfully about its decorative ceramic overlay. Though steam gives rise from the drink, and the mug itself is surely warm to the touch, Sion seems not to notice, nursing the tea in slow, polite sips as Lapis speaks, her words nothing if not an expression of trust, a delicate something which he would give anything to safeguard (much like Lapis herself).

Voices, she's said, and though he is well aware of the circumstances of Lapis' birth, she had never before confessed to him this: the link between neural-technology and the abilities which it caused to surface. Curious of them (and of her), he almost thinks to activate the biometric scanning system that had been integrated into his own person long ago with the hope that, perhaps, it might shed further light on the nature of all that she is able to do, but--...

She asks (what about you?) and he blinks once, then twice, looking thoroughly owlish despite himself. ]

I--... [ By and large, he is unused to speaking about himself on such a personal level, but... Lapis had placed her trust in him, and he will honor it: ] There are times when I see you.

[ Lips curving up into a small, half-smile, he turns his head to regard his couch-mate, the long fall of his hair cascading down, over his shoulder. ]

Others, when I glimpse my half-brother and half-sister. Nights, when I see those beneath my jurisdiction at the Company, Westies, in need of aid, and the good men and women I was fortunate enough to call 'comrade' in the military.

[ Giving pause, he glances down, his smile fading into a look which is resolute, and perhaps a touch inspiring in its conviction: ] They are... the people I want to protect.

[oneirism]

[Lapis gently sips at her tea as well, golden eyes still focused on him as she speaks, tilting her head at his owlish look. But she says nothing, instead simply waiting for it he'll respond - for this, she won't try to press for her way.

His answer is a surprise though, and she blinks at him owlishly in return, tilting her head as she process what he just said. The confusion is clear on her face, but it fades as he keeps speaking, her expression softening once more. His words are... uplifting, in a way. To hear about all those connections he has.

And when she sees that resolute look on his face, she can't stop herself from smiling softly - finding it hard not to be inspired by his resolve.

"People I want to protect"... It's a thought she can understand, her own eyes glancing down as well, her hands tightening around her mug for a moment.]

That's... really admirable, Sion. [Her eyes glance back over at him, a soft and warm smile curling at the edge of her lips.]

[sunderings]

[ … "Admirable". It might have been, were that which he wanted to protect not so too his reason for committing atrocities; for allowing himself to be the Company's marionette as he bloodied his hands first as an Enforcer, then Officer, now as Director of Westerley's administration. Sion Astal, who exists to protect, does so by taking lives (the Captain he'd been made to interrogate and to dispose of, leaving no trace of the man behind) as easily as he grants compassion (ease, on routine Visa checks; on leniency with Undocumented Westies), all with the hope that one day, he will be in the position to be just and to be bold, with influence enough elicit change within the Company itself before--...

War, it is a shadow of thought ever-present at the back of his mind, for tension has escalated and is still ever on the rise. It will not be much longer, he thinks, before the Nine take action to assert themselves as the law of the Quad, stabilizing conflict through a show of brute force and power.

But this, of course, he speaks nothing of, though suddenly, he seems distant, his smile inexplicably sad— ]

I am glad you think so. [ Lapis, she sees only the good in him. And for now, he'll do nothing to strip the veil from her eyes. (Sion Astal, you truly are the worst sort of man.) ] But ah, I wonder...

[ He huffs, pouting with a playful puff of his cheeks...!! ]

...how do you plan to compensate me for my lack of sleep?

[oneirism]

[Lapis can imagine there's a less pleasant side to his words, that there are things he's had to do for those he wants to protect. But as always, she doesn't fault him for it, doesn't think any less - even if things spiral out of control because of this infection, she will never think any less of him.

He's her dear friend, and he will always be that.

But those thoughts are pushed away when his cheeks puff up, the action prompting her to blink - and then blink even more at his words. Only to then giggle softly, leaning back against the couch with a playful hum.]

Huh, aren't you happy I invade your dreams so much? I'm offended. [A playful grin pulls at the corner of her lips now, the playfulness clear in her eyes as she glances over at her guest.]

Sadly I don't have much to my name except tea, some cake I made earlier and a song or two. Take your pick.

[sunderings]

Well— [ It is a sweet, almost melodic thing, the drawl of the word as Sion plays at theatrics, making a show of considering all options presented, each perhaps more tantalizing than the last (and all three certainly a testament to the prowess of his hostess!). ]

As you have so expertly already plied me with tea— [ Tea, which remains yet in his hands, the mug still very much within his grasp as he savors the nose of the blend, fragrant and rife with the memory of late spring. ] —I fear that cake, delicious though I imagine it is, will infringe upon the taste.

[ Hmm, hmmm...! From over the edge of his mug, Sion's golden eyes catch with Lapis' own, holding them fast as they dip into a deeper curve; a truer smile. ]

What's more, as you have already confessed to me that you took to the stage earlier on in the night, I could not ask you to take on the role of songstress for a second time.

[ But ah? Where does that leave them, then? Out of options...? No, Sion would certainly hope not. ]

Perhaps I might offer you my aid, instead? What do you think?

[ !! What a mysterious turn of events??? ]

[oneirism]

[His melodic drawl pulls a giggle from Lapis once more, expectantly waiting for his choice. Sipping on her own mug still as she listens to him, another soft sound of amusement escaping her as she listens - though her own smile softens to something warmer when his eyes catch hers, when she sees the curve of his own smile.

But now her expression turns curious, since that's all of her offers turned down! She doesn't play at being offended yet though, since she figures that Sion has something in mind.

And he certainly does! Though it wasn't what she was expecting at all, her surprise takes over her features now - her eyes widening as she blinks owlishly at her guest. But then she smiles softly, a brow raising as gold eyes keep watching him carefully.]

Offering your aid as compensation? Well, I can't turn that down. [But the playfulness fades now - because what does she need aid in? What is it that Sion sees, but she doesn't notice? ... Well, that's probably a lot of things, with how Lapis happens to both subtly and not-so-subtly neglect herself.]

But aid in what?

[sunderings]

… Discerning the nature of what it is that you hear when all else is quiet—

[ With a slow gesture, fluid with grace, Sion shifts to set his mug of tea back, atop the table, before turning to better face his friend; Lapis, who throws herself into her work (as he so often is guilty of doing himself), who has wholeheartedly received a guest as so very late an hour (just as he would, if Lapis should ever show up upon his doorstep), and who is very much in need of a decent night's sleep, her weariness apparent to his ever-discerning eye, for...

...they are very much the same, in so very many facets.

(If he can grant her some measure of peace, he will.) ]

—and why it is the sound resonates as something familiar.

[ Giving pause, he lifts a newly-freed hand, tapping a fore and index finger lightly to his own temple: ] My time in the military has left me changed; it took its toll, but not without leaving some good in its wake.

It is within my ability, to see the things which people carry with them. Integrated here— [ A second tap to his temple before his hand falls away, coming to rest neatly atop his lap. ] —is a biometric scanning system.

It may shed some light on what you are able to do, Lapis. [ Gently: ] Helping you in this way... is more selfish of me than you think.

[ Though his following laugh is light, a featherweight thing which warms the air surrounding, there is something indiscernible about it. Something ephemeral and bittersweet.

Lapis... that day when we stood hand-in-hand against the world... it will always be one of my most cherished memories. ]

It would help me be at ease.

[oneirism]

[Lapis quietly watches as he turns to face her, tilting her head for a moment as she keeps listening - blinking once more as he starts his intention. It's... confusing to her, why someone would care so much about her issues with sleep, that they would try to find the cause behind it. She's not used to anyone caring so much.

But Sion has always been the exception to a lot of things. So she tries to push that confusion aside, listening inventively to his words - her eyes widening when he reveals just what his ability is. It really is strange, how similar they are in some ways.

And as she listens to his laugh, she presses her lips together in a firm line - detecting that bitter-sweetness to his voice. The memories of when they were children coming back, her heart clenching in her chest as she wishes, for just a moment, that they really could've escaped.

But she pushes that away, sighing softly as she places her own cup down, turning to face him fully as well - there's that worry, of revealing herself to him but... It's okay. Sion has always been an exception to a lot of things.]

... Alright. Then this is how I'll compensate you. [Her tone becomes lighter for a moment, trying to lift the mood that had fallen around them.]

[sunderings]

Then, with your permission...

[ He gives a slight nod of his head, the fringe of his hair bouncing lightly with the motion, his hands reaching to envelop her own as he smiles, appreciative of levity introduced by Lapis' bright tone of voice; the way she has entrusted herself to him, unburdened by fear of rejection. Of what he might think, because she should know it, shouldn't she? That he is her friend, and that she is a piece of his heart, not only in memory, but in the present. In the here and now where his thumbs brush over the backs of Lapis' hands in a tender caress, his eyes falling closed--...

(Inhale. Exhale. Then, a whisper of a thought which resonates through the mind, waking the technology inside of him.)

Then reopening, lambent and alight, flashing with an iridescent quality which may be difficult to look at for long with human sight. ]

Lapis. [ —her name is a whisper upon his lips, his gaze drifting off, becoming distant, his eyes fixed upon some pinpoint in the aether which only he might be able to glimpse. ] There is...

[ Falling silent, he shakes his head, blinks one, two, three times in swift succession before the light fades from his eyes, dissipates as though it had never been. And still, he holds fast to her hands, his fingers curling in a familiar squeeze, offering what reassurance he may (and all the care and compassion he can give). ]

Neural technology at the cortex of the brain, far more refined than my own. It... is what responsible for your sensory modality, but--... [ A light furrow of his brow, a search for how to explain: ] ...there are signs of spurious bioelectric signals.

Or, for a lack of a better term, a "glitch". Perhaps one stemming from disuse. The voices you hear... I think that you may be able to control them, given time and practice.

[oneirism]

[There's a nod in response, dark hair falling over her eyes for a moment before she pushes it back with a shake of her head. Glancing down as he takes her hands in his, pushing back her worries and concerns - of what he might think, of if he'll want to distance himself once he knows, just as her parents did. But she trusts Sion, her worries fading as she feels that caress to the back of her hands - the touch sweet enough that it beings a faint blush to her cheeks.

But she's soon distracted by that light in his eyes, her own widening for a moment before she snaps to attention at his voice. Staying silent for now, her hands squeezing around his gently, watching as he comes back with a shake of his head and a blink of his eyes.

What he says first isn't a surprise, and she simply nods - only to then blink at his wording next. Tilting her head in question for a moment, not understanding the terms, before humming softly in understanding once the explanation is given. His reasoning is a good one, since she tended to use her AI rarely - it tended to be a bit of a drain.]

Hmm, I think you're right... The technology is used to create AI, so disuse might be causing me to hear things. I'll try using them and practicing with them, but it's such a drain.

[sunderings]

I have come to find that technology, when integrated with the body, may atrophy just like any muscle over time. [ Funny, how Sion remains wholly himself when speaking of such things; the blessing and curse of being modified as they have, able to do so much for so very, very many people, while holding themselves at bay, carrying a stigma because of it. A stigma which seems not to exist now, as Sion continues to hold Lapis' hands, leaning in to touch his forehead lightly to Lapis' own, nose quite nearly touching nose as he sighs, relieved to know that his friend's long nights may soon come to an end. ] Exercising the A.I., even if it should be taxing, will be of great benefit to you. I--...

[ Ah??? What's this??? A slow droop of his eyes, white-as-snow lashes falling to half-mast, then a small (cute??) sound which is a...

Yawn!?!?

Jerking up and back, Sion is mortified (with himself), and no longer quite so relaxed. ]

I'm sorry, I am, perhaps, not nearly as restless as I thought myself to be. [ Clearly, Sion, if you almost fell into a light doze. Blushing himself, a light dusting of gold touches his cheeks, a boyish, apologetic look overtaking him: ] What I meant to say, that if you should ever need assistance with practicing, please do not hesitate to call upon me.

[oneirism]

[Ah... That does make sense. Then she'll try to use it more often, even if she isn't always keen to - she doesn't exactly like being invasive, but she can use her A.I. to find out information that can help people. Even if she worries about what they may think, of how it just distances her from everyone else. Though it's hard to think of that distance now, with her hand in Sion's as he touches their foreheads together.

The touch causes her eyes to widen for a moment, before she smiles softly, gently bumping her forehead against his in an affectionate gesture. Only to blink when he trails off, watching as his eyes droop and a soft yawn escapes him - her eyes widening as amusement and endearment sparkles in her eyes.

And once he jerks upright, giggles are quick to escape her, the giggles quick to become genuine laughter as she smiles brightly - her shoulders still shaking from her mirth once she calms herself. Nodding in response to his words as she squeezes his hands gently, bumping her head softly against his once more.]

Ehe, thank you, Sion. I'll be sure to take you up on that offer... Though I feel I should be a good host and offer to let you stay here tonight, since you're already nodding off.

[sunderings]

[ And as though it had never been, her laughter soothes his embarrassment, sees him relaxed once again as she bumps her head against his own, the fringe of her hair tickling his skin. It's human, isn't it, this sort of contact? It's nice, in a way he somehow forgotten to miss, his last memory of such easy affection a time when he and his siblings had fallen asleep together in a similar manner, tucked in on the couch after a daring night of staying up past curfew.

(What a simple time, that had been.) ]

I can't help it. [ —he says softly, quietly, blinking the sudden onset of sleep away from his eyes, his lashes suddenly much too heavy as they droop for a second time, and Sion ...relents, leaning back into the couch cushions in an attempt to find a comfortable position, his hands falling lax in their hold.

(Still, though, his fingers remain loosely curled about Lapis' own.) ]

It's peaceful here, and you... [ For a fleeting moment, he wonders if it is all right to stay—if he is not somehow putting her in jeopardy by doing so, but the thought is swift to disappear, for Lapis is by his side, safe and sound, and he will do all that he can to ensure she stays as she is: hale and whole. ] ...are much too kind to me.

[oneirism]

[Lapis can't really remember the last time she was this close to someone, anyone besides her sister - but it's nice, to be able to show and be given this kind of affection by someone. It makes it easy to relax, which is why another soft giggle escapes her at his response, watching with a warm and amused smile as she sees his lashes droop once more.

It's almost cute, in a way, and so her smile lingers as he leans back into the cushions - keeping her own fingers loosely curled around his still. His words prompting a tilt of her head, her smile becoming less of a playful one and one full of warmth. Huffing an amused sound in response, curling her fingers a bit tighter around his in a gentle squeeze.]

Well, I'm glad you find it peaceful here. And I would be a bad host if I sent you away when you're starting to nod off. You're always welcome to stay here as long as you want, Sion.

[Of course her request is partly selfish in a way, so that she can see more of her friend. But she truly means those words as well - that he if he finds her apartment peaceful, then he's always welcome to come here if he needs peace away from everything going on outside.]

[sunderings]

[ Lapis, she cannot know how her smile heartens him; how much the words you're always welcome to stay mean. For many years, Sion Astal hasn't had a place where he belongs: when he'd been released from the military into the hands of the Company, he had paid visit to Leith; to what used to be his family's manor, his home, and he had found nothing but the house's bones, the siblings that he'd known gone and walking on paths different than his own. And now, though he has personal quarters at the Company outpost, that place is isolated and cold, nothing at all like the warmth to be found in close proximity and the curl of Lapis' fingers about his own.

Even if he is uncertain, still, if he is deserving of this thing called peace, it has been granted to him all the same, and so he drifts farther, his breath falling even and slow, though--...

He does not forget to bow his head in gratitude and look to his friend with bleary eyes, his voice quieted, now, by his slow descent into sleep: ]

What about you...? [ Perhaps stubbornly, he refuses to allow for rest to take him until he is certain that Lapis will find her own; that she will not think to look after him instead. (Really, she is too good a host!)] Will you be able to sleep?