West Dorms
In the shadow of the university are stacks of ancient tungsten-tetraboride storage containers, which have been modified into small modular apartments for students. Their layout isn't always logical, and the addressing is up to the students, such that some of the modules have numbers, or the names of the occupants, or bizarre diagrams and paintings. None of them have windows, as cutting the super-hard metal is too problematical.

For Karnor, scent is like memory. And Tasha and Gabriel both know Hakeber's scent fairly well - enough to track down her module, which has a brightly colored smiling cartoon wolf face painted on the door. It's late morning, so their quarry should still be at home, since Hakeber likes to sleep in.

Tasha steps forward, reaching to put a paw on Gabriel's chst as she grins at him. "Oh, let me," she whispers conspiratorialy.

Upon approaching the door, the red woman takes a deep breath and, deeping her voice, yells, "Campus security! Hakeber, open up!" Then she pounds on the door.

The container seems to shake a bit. A moment later, a frazzled Karnor in an open bathrobe opens the door, saying, "I swear that guy was old enough.." Then she blinks and refocuses her eyes. "Tasha? You have feathers growing out of the left side of your face, did you know that?"

"Irrelevant!" Tasha barks in her deep voice, then she picks Hakeber up and hugs her as she steps inside. "So, old enough for what?" She asks as she lets herself in.

"What? Nothing!" Hakeber says, still a bit out of it - or possibly hungover. Her apartment doesn't look much different than the last time Tasha visited, although hopefully the piles of stuff are at least fresher piles of stuff, and there aren't any passed out cheetahs or others lying about. The needle on the record player is hissing at rides the inner loop, and there are lots of books and papers piled on the small table, along with a typewriter. "Oh, Commander Akkers, sir.." Hakeber says, noticing Gabriel and gesturing to the table. "I'm nearly done compiling the regulation suggestions.."

"It looks like you've been working to the point of neglecting everything else," Gabriel comments as he looks around, avoiding some empty bottles on the floor. "I hope it isn't interfering with your normal studies.."

"And I'm probably not helping that, am I?" Hakeber gets put down, then Tasha makes her way to the sofa and has a seat, causing it to creeky. "Sorry, I thought you'd like a suprise and well, we've been busy -- I've been busy." She tilts her head, leaning back. "I hope my face didn't scare you?"

"Nah, it's cooler than the leather eyepatch I thought you'd use," Hakeber admits, running a hand through her hair. "What time is it? Do you guys want a beer or anything?"

"I don't even know, and you know I'll have a beer." Tasha scootches aside so Gabriel can sit too, then peers at the paperwork. "I heard you've been busy helping?"

Gabriel sits, after making sure he's not likely to stick. "A bit early, but I don't think it'll mix badly with the coffee," he says, as Hekeber rummages through her icebox for three bottles. "Well, yeah, there's a lot of rules and regulations involved with Knights joining other organizations. Because they're still Knights you see.. it's a lifetime oath. So there has to be a lot of sorting through regulations and making sure everything lines up so nobody is breaking any oaths or other stuff.."

"We really do appreciate your effort, Hake. I'm sorry I can't be much help with it. Though, we did help your apartment not get destroyed, so that's something right?" Says the mostly-Vartan.

"Hmm? Oh, right!" Hakeber says, as if just realizing it. She passes out the bottles, and says, "That's what I was doing last night! No wonder I feel so worn out still.. it was some party! Good thing I didn't evacuate.."

"Tesla's a crater full of chunks now, so, he won't be bothering anyone but the cleanup and salvage teams," the red woman notes as she accepts the beer. Not needing an opener, Tasha just uses her power-armored hand to yank it right off, then she offers to do it for the others, hand out.

Gabriel uses his teeth to pop his top, and Hakeber uses the edge of her record player, causing the needle to jump and land at random on the vinyl disk. Katie Kaboom's voice begins to croon out of the tiny speakers:

"Oops," Hakeber says, and turns the player off. "I know that rah-rah stuff is mostly for the troops, but.. I still kinda like it."

Tasha pauses as she lowers her hand, ears perking. "Is that Katie?" She asks, focusing on the record player and listening. "She asked me if I had ever heard her sing; I meant to ask wheer I could buy her ... Those are records? The machine?"

"I brought this one with me from New Zion.. I'm amazed it still works," Hakeber notes. "My dad has one that's powered by a spring that you wind up!"

"I guess I'll have to see if I can find some. I can probably record them for playback from my datapad, and upload them to Mel so they're close by," Tasha considers, settling back in to the couch. "Maybe I can borrow some? The machine doesn't look that complicated."

"Well, I have a few of her records," Hakeber says. "The speakers aren't very good on this, but sure.. except that's sort of illegal you know," the girl adds, using her fingers to put air-quotes around 'illegal.' "Can't you just ask Katie for some copies?"

"I'd have to see her again, and well, you can't exactly just stop by Katie's place -- there's always camera men and other types hanging around and building security is tight. I don't want to risk our association becoming a problem for her," the mostly Vartan notes. She then rolls her shoulders and glances towards the door. "Tartarus does? Well, I could head back, couln't I? I should bring Shojo, as I'm thinking of taking him with me to Sinai. He can get some equipment, maybe? What do you think?"

"He can do other things," Tasha notes as she looks back. "Plus, I need someone who can fly or we're looking at exponentially increased costs."

"Yeah, the Vartan medic.. you're going to Sinai again?" Hakeber asks, looking wistful. "I don't know if Abaddonian Vartans have a fear of magic like your Sinai ones do. But he seemed really level-headed, didn't panic under fire or anything."

"I'm going back to talk to Yama, maybe see if he'll teach me. Given his, um, disposition, I was hesitant to bring anyone, but, Shojo has medical knowledge and an interest in archaeology so this seems like a good time to test him. He can also gain exposure to another world, and some experience, though I don't think I'll be taking him in to the Forbidden Zone," the hybrid explains.

Hakeber chokes on her beer and starts coughing for a few moments. "Yama?" she finally gasps. "He nearly killed you! And us! He's a freaky robot dragon monster!"

"Gabriel reacted the same way," Tasha notes, glancing at her mate and grinning. "But, well, I'm a giant robot bird monsters, aren't I? And Lord," the half-Vartan mock-emphasizes the word, defaulting to her old accent in a know-towing kind of way, " ... Yama has been in existence forever. He manipulated the entire Celestial Empire, and he would have needed the skills to do it. He probably taught them quite a bit, too. He's in contact with them, so he may understand how they combat the hostile Sifran spirits -- something we don't know how to do and which nearly costed us the world. Besides that, he clearly saw something in me he, if not liked, then at least approved of. He may find it gratifying and appreciable if I return to ask after his knowledge and wisdom."

"Yeah.. but you've changed since then too," Hakeber notes. "What if he doesn't think you're suitable anymore?"

"Well ... " And here Tasha sounds less certain, scratching at her head, "I'll just have to prove him wrong then, won't I? Better he kill me then and there, too, then allow me to endanger the world by blundring in to the Seventh Heaven."

"You're scary, Tasha," Hakeber notes, and sits on the arm of the couch next to Tasha. "Well.. you don't seem as confident."

"You've been through a lot," Gabriel adds, and puts a hand on Tasha's shoulder. "You still carry some deep emotional scars from the battle with Abaddon."

"Scary?" Tasha asks, turning towards Hakeber. She then frowns, glancing at the hand. "It's hard to maintain confidence when your promise gets thrown in your face and your choices set up a near-apocalypse. Abaddon took a lot from me: He took Balthasar, he took my faith, he took my confidence, he made me murder my friend and twice he nearly stole my sense of self. And as I've tried to be useful, I've seen how much I don't know, how much is out there. And I wonder if I'm really that useful for anything. Lately it feels like all I am good for is killing monsters. I used to know how to bring people together, now it seems like I mostly push them away, or disappoint them. Make them angry. I don't know when it happened, but I lost that, too."

The younger woman sighs, closing her eyes and letting her head lay against the couch. "I hate it -- and I'm tired of it. I picked Yama because he scares me; He can see right through me. And he's ruthless, and dangerous. He lives in a terrible place. If I can survive him though, if I can learn from him, I believe I can find my confidence again."

"The more you learn, the less confident you'll be about knowing anything," Hakeber says. "You didn't know anything when you started out, right? Has learning more.. helped?"

"Well, of course it has," Tasha says, keeping her eyes closed and looking rather tired despite having woken up only an hour ago. "But I don't know if I can catch up with the others. I attend the Knights Templar Academy in the Winged Citadel, but it feels like I'll never catch up with anyone. I think I annoy my tutor, as I ask questions she seems to think are the most basic things in the universe."

"At least Captain Frane belives in me," Tasha notes, pausing to draw in a long breath before adding, "I promised him I'd come back some day. I plan to keep that promise, but, not now. Not like this."

"Heh, you can't go to school until you have the time to devote to it," Hakeber notes, and gestures to the mess on the table. "See, I don't have any other stuff going on. I can devote myself to this. You've got like a dozen things going on and you can't make breakfast while juggling tomatoes, as my grandma used to say. She was also a terrible cook, too."

"So am I, according to Mel," Tasha says, eyes opening as she makes a face. "AI anti-convergence protocol, or so I'm told." Sitting up, then hunching forward Tasha places her hands on her kness and works her muzzle, thinking. "So, I'm too busy, huh? Most of the students there seemed to do nothing but study, maybe you're right? I don't think the PHTO would be very impressed if I said, "sorry I can't protecft the city, I have a test tomorrow," though."

"Maybe I should just focus on what people need from me? On what I seem to be good at? Which is being a warrior, it seems," she continues, head cocking to the side. "My mother won't like it, but it can't be helped."

"See, you did it all backwards, starting with responsibility and then trying for education," Hakeber says. "And that responsibility came about from your passion, right? So you have to follow your passion. I mean, really, what else can you do? You have to be passionate about learning to handle all this stuff.. if you just think of it as a means to an end, or a problem to solve, you just aren't going to get through it."

"Is that it?" Tasha asks, eyes widening. She then looks down again, staring at the floor and in to her mind. "Passion, is it ... " She cocks her head the other way, then turns to look at her Vartanized hand, flexing it. "What I came here for ... What I was supposed to do. I wanted to make the world a better place, not by force, but through exploration, recovery of technologies, and responsible use of the power that comes with them. I didn't want to see another Mrs. Cromwell. I didn't want to see the JEF die in vain, nor its people who tried so hard to be here. People like Nora. I made the JEF again, for them and for the world."

Tasha sucks in a breath, staring at the floor before exhaling a mountain of stress and confusion. "Mm," she goes, looking a little lost.

"Just don't overthink everything," Hakeber says. "I mean, I don't, and look how I turned out! I'm perfect!" she claims. "The key to getting stuff done is to not do it all yourself. If my record player breaks, I take it a.. machine guy. I don't mess with it myself. I just want to use it. If I need something complicated dealt with, I go to a mathematician. See, it's not just your passion, it's about using other people's passions to support yours."

"Because for anything big to succeed, everyone involved needs to give some of their passion to it, see?" the Karnor concludes.

"Captain Frane mentioned that too, and Katie and ... Others," Tasha notes, looking up now. "That I keep trying to take everything on myself, which is probably because there's things that only I can do. No one except Mel helped me in the face of Abaddon. No one really believed me when I said he existed. In the end, it always comes down to you, and you alone. But maybe ... " The red woman rolls her head to the side, letting her hair fall across her eyes as she looks at Hakeber, "Maybe I took that too far? I hated how weak I was when I faced him; I couldn't do anything, I couldn't even die. I hate that feeling so much, I think maybe ... Maybe I've been chasing after it, trying to be invincible, or, um, at least better. Much better."

"Yeah, see, that's your problem and why you've been floundering I bet," Hakeber says. "That's like the opposite of passion. You say you want to be like you were, bringing people together and all.. that's when you had passion! Passion is what brings people together, inspires them, and all that stuff. You probably had passion when you were fighting Abaddon, and Tesla, right? So stop worrying about what only you can do, or what you can't do, and just do what you feel passionate about. Others will follow."

"I think I agree with you, except on one point: When you're standing on the battlefield, when you're infront of an enemy, um, those things don't matter. It doesn't matter how passionate you are. Or how amny friends you have. How many people look up to you. What matters is how strong and capable you are. Because if you're not good enough, you're just dead. Or worse. If the First Ones hadn't intervened, you'ld all be fighting Enyo right now. You'ld be fighting me." The hybrid clenches her taloned first, head straighening as she looks hakeber right in the eye. "You're right about people. I agree. I'll remember it. But I'm also warrior, and I know that in a fight, it's personal ability that matters. I don't think I'm wrong to want to chase after my weakness and beat it. I don't want to rely on luck, or miracles, to save me."

"I think passion is vital, but you have to have the strength and ability to see it through. Otherwise you just get washed away, and the world forgets about you -- unless you don't let it," Tasha concludes.

"How do you think you can get stronger though?" Hakeber asks. "I mean.. your strength in a fight is Melchior. Your own strength is just strength of will when you fight with him, right?"

"And ability. But maybe there's more. I don't know, but Lord Yama might. There's other powers in the world, other skills and abilites, that might be useful," says Tasha, spreading her hands. "How do you touch a spirit? Is it a skill? Can a machine do it? Is a spirit a machine? A skill? A memory? It's outside our normal existence, so I think, maybe, maybe ... Maybe there are things I don't know that are beyond my experience. But Lord Yama, he has existed for a long, long time. He hears them. He hinted taht he knew of the spirits, and he may have hinted at Abaddon. What he sees ... He may see far beyond what I can. Maybe he'll share what he sees, so I can see it too."

"Maybe you should see about enlisting some mages too while you're on Sinai," Hakeber suggests.

"That sounds like a good idea," Tasha agrees, nodding and letting her hands fall, entwining her fingers and letting her hands hang from her legs. "They might know. I would be very surprised if Lord Yama wasn't at least aware of magic, too. The First Ones may have their own version."

"Doesn't mean it'd be anything we could understand," Hakeber notes. "Do you know the Expedition technology works? I mean, how it really works? And that's all watered down stuff to begin with, for the sake of reliability!"

The girl bangs on the wall, and says, "Like these dorms. Modules. We know what the metal is, and how it was made.. but it's not anything we can use, because we can't work it anymore! It can cut diamond, but we use it for housing because it comes in a conveniently sized and shaped box."

"Well, no." Tasha admits, frowning. "But that doesn't stop us from trying, right? Not understanding isn't a reason to give up, or not look, right? I've been wondering, what the difference is between spirits," the hybrid continues, untwining her hands to point at herself. "Abaddon was a disembodied force, but he could speak to me, could infect machines and change them. I've met gods and other spirits, that exhibited different powers and levels of solidity. Most seem to be able to communicate on a subconcious level, but others speak. Some can't communicate at all. Are they different? What lets them do what they do? We have spirits too, but ours don't seem to do much of anything. Well, mine provides advice, but ... Well, can one spirit touch another? The dead seem to be able to utilize a spirit's abilities, but do they go to ... spirit school? How does this happen? And can it be learned? What if I could have reached out with my own spirit to grab Abaddon?"

"He'd probably have grabbed you back?" Hakeber suggests. "Whatever spirits are, they're generated by the Sifran technology, just like magic is. So one made by the Sifras themselves is probably always going to trump one made.. by whatever other means. You'd have to talk to a spirit wizard I guess."

"And using something you don't understand is always dangerous," Hakeber claims. "Isn't that why Balthasar was mothballed in the first place?"

"The First Ones know how to inhibit them somehow, so Lord Yama seemed like a good person to ask. The Mages may know too. There's also priests, who seem to control magic through faith? I can't help but wonder at the connection! What is the commonality between spirits, magic and faith? Is there even a difference?" "Hrrm," then goes Tasha, who tilts her head and twists her muzzle. She then shakes her head and glances at Hakeber from the corner of her eyes. "Balthasar was doing fine until Abaddon showed up. He was incredibly dangerous, but I don't think he was the corrupting horror the legends and others made him out to be. What they really feared was his user. Balthasar had all his power sitting alone, but never used it. He had no will on his own, or, at least, no motivation. And the Priest King, he was an egomanic. He wanted to be a god. He lost his trust a long time ago, so of course he wouldn't trust someone else with power to rival his own. No, I don't believe in avoiding something just because

"Yeah, but you didn't know what that power was," Hakeber points out. "That's the 'not understand' part. You don't really understand Lord Yama, so you assume he has all this knowledge - even though he's stomped around a swamp for six thousand years. It's just not that different from not understanding weather and assuming the gods are throwing lightning bolts at people. If you don't understand something, you have to be careful not to project what you want to believe onto it."

"You mean like with Balthasar? How people projected their fear on him, making disrust the real horror of Balthasar?" Tasha asks, tilting her head again. "Well, what do you two think I should do? It's not as if I'm going to go to him and get amd if he doesn't know the answers; I'd just thank him and leave. Or is there something else I don't understand? What do you both want me to do?"

"I think we don't want you projecting your hopes onto things you don't have any real reason to be hopeful of," Gabriel says. "The fear of Balthasar turned out to be pretty warranted, didn't it? And your hope for him fizzled. Don't let hope mislead you just because you feel you need to put your hope into something that isn't easily understood. People are different - you can understand them. You have something in common with them. And you can try to convince them, or inspire them, or do something to get them to where you hoped they would be. You can't do that with supernatural beings. And I'm counting the Magi as supernatural beings."

Tasha gives Gabriel and incredulous look, ears going askew. "The entire JEF is about hope in interacting with things we don't understand. And look what happened! I'm-" The hybrid's eyes widen and she immediately cuts herself off, looking away and flattening her ears. She stares at the floor for several seconds and then states in a low, half-growl: "Maybe you're pushing your fears on to the supernatural, because you're afraid to believe in them. You tell me not to hope for too much, but is that becasue you believe it, or you want to believe it's true because to do otherwise means you may have to believe in ghosts -- ghosts like our PCs. Maybe, you know, ghosts are a little closer to you than you think, and you know, you should be a little more grateful to them. The Magi and I have more in common than you think."

Tasha then suddenly stands up, rnning a hand through her hair. "I'm going to take a walk. You two can talk."

"Tasha.." Gabriel says, and sighs. "The JEF is people. It's technology we understand and control. The Magi are like gods - it's one thing to have faith in them, but you don't put your hope into them. Can't you see the difference? You're expecting something on your terms when you put hope into something. But those beings don't operate on our terms! You can have confidence in them, like Melchior, because you understand him. He's made to operate on your terms. The others aren't. You can't trust them."

Tasha doesn't head towards the door, she just stands there with her head in her hair, staring at a wall. She doesn't say anything for the longest time, but finally stirs, muttering, "Then I guess you can't have hope in me."

"C'mon Tasha, even you act like you don't trust yourself," Gabriel says. "And I do have hope in you. We all do. Because you're a person. You seem to forget that, but you are just like the rest of us. You have some wires in your head, but they don't do your thinking for you, or regulate your heart, or anything else that matters. They're just so you can control something in a convenient manner. You aren't a cyborg or a machine or an artifact or anything like that. You're a flesh and blood mortal like the rest of us. And that's why we can have hope in you."

Despite teh uplifting message, Tasha's ears sink and she looks increasingly unhappy with the analysis. As Gabriel talks, she can't help but think of Nora-Tisiphone, who struggled for thousands of years to save the man beside her, only now to be told that she can't have hope in her, because she is what she is. And since Nora-Tisiphone created her to save the Fenris, since she's an artifical construct -- a hybrid of godly machination and flesh and blood union -- on some level she, too, inherits this distrust. She knows she isn't an alien force, or a machine, or really, that different from any other common sentient she's ever met, but it still hurts to realize her origin just isn't good enough. That maybe on some level, she's shares a part of these beings that can't be trusted -- and to hear Nora-Tisiphone described that way makes her bite her lip, looking pained. She understands why Nora-Tisiphone never wanted Gabriel to know; It wasn't just our of fear, or distance, or the painful knowledge she cou;

It's an injustice the hybrid can't stand, but also can't find recourse to combat. To argue would need to reveal Nora-Tisiphone's existence, but to let it go unresolved means that she must accept the negative judgement against both her creator, and herself.

Not knowing what to do and finding herself between two overwheling realiztions she can't resolve, she collapses to her knees, staring blankly at a wall and looking miserable.

Gabriel is there in a flash, kneeling down and holding her. "What's wrong, Tasha? Just tell me," he asks.

Despite her discomfort at Gabriel's words, Tasha leans her head against the man and closes her eyes. "I don't know," she admits, sounding tired and defeated. "I don't know anymore. I think I'm confused. About everything."

"I think you should talk to Remiel," Gabriel says. "He can help you more in things like this, help you sort things out. He's done it for me, and even for Nora."

"Nora ... " Tasha murmurs, nodding her head. "I think I do need Remiel." Needing the emotional support more than the physical, Tasha slings an arm around Gabriel's shoulders and stands up with him, then she glances at Hakeber.

"Sorry, Hake," she apologizes, smiling a pained, thin smile. "I'm not feeling well. Maybe I should have stayed in the tank longer ..?" She then glances to her mate and asks, "Well, want to get going?"

"Yeah," Gabriel says, helping Tasha to her feet. "You'll like the autogyro, I'm sure. Flying always clears my head, I know." Turning his head, he tells Hakeber, "I guess we'll see you when you have your recommendations ready?"

"Oh.. yeah! I'll bring them to you at the Pit.. or leave them there if you're off somewhere!" Hakeber says, and finally thinks to close her bathrobe. "Take care of yourselves," she adds, with a bit of concern.

For her part, Tasha seems content to just rest her head against Gabriel. Inside she feels sick, and confused. Even if some part of her is mad at him, she doesn't want to let him go. That, at least, she's sure makes sense.

The flight back to the Pit is much faster than the train - which they actually pass over, since they're following the tracks. The Titans are laid out on flatbeds that make up most of the train, including Melchior. It looks like they're sleeping. Gabriel is also very cheery - he really does love to fly, and the autogyro is a very simple (rather than primitive) machine, and seems well suited to Abaddon, since even if the engine fails, the rotating 'wings' will just gently bring the craft down to the ground. Something about these machines - with no computers or guidance systems or anything more than a yolk, pedals and a throttle - really appeals to Gabriel.

For the most part Tasha has been quiet during the trip, never really leaving Gabriel's side, usually with her head against him. She's hasn't been completely silent, though: she commented on how interesting the autogyro is, about how different its way of flying is from her's and the Melchior's and how she very sorry about being such a mess. The comments are few nd far between, but she at least seems to be paying aware and not excessively distracted by what bothers her.

As they pass teh train, she speaks again. "They look so peaceful," she notes, tilting her head to get a better look. "Like they're resting ... I hope they rest well."

Once they land, it's nearly dinner time. "The train should get here by morning," Gabriel notes. "So time to eat and rest up before then. Do you want to talk to Remiel before dinner?" he asks Tasha.

"Yes, please," Tasha answers, who has since unlatched herself from her mate, not wanting to show too much TLC this close to the PHTO HQ. "How about we head back, so I can change and then we'll see Remy?"

"Anything you want," Gabriel says, and before long they're back at the PHTO building, where Tasha can shed her armor finally. Remiel has his own room now, complete with an office (which isn't surprising, since the rooms originally were offices) since his relationship with Neesa the Dream Mage has gotten to the point where a bit more privacy (and space_ was needed, leaving Dr. Zerachiel on his own once more. Remiel is giving Neesa a kiss as she's leaving, just as Tasha is arriving.

"Oh, hi," says a more rested, but still tired and a little haggard looking Tasha. "Am I interupting ..? I wanted to talk, but um, I can come back tomorrow ..?" She scratches at her head, looking off out the window in a mixed offering of privacy and embarassed discomfort with potentially revealing some of her weakness before the other woman.

"I'm just leaving, hon," Neesa says with a smile. "I have to take care of a few things, so you can bed Remy's ear all you want." She winks, and then heads off down the hall.

"Come right in, Tasha," Remiel says, holding the door open. "I always have time for my patients."

"Oh, um, thanks Miss- Mage Neesa. Maybe we could talk some time, too," Tasha offers as the woman leaves, then turns to Remiel and gives him a weak smile. "Thank you, Remy. I, um ... I don't think I feel well. Lately I've been feeling confused, and, um, Gabriel said some things that made me think about Nora, and, um ... Maybe that Nora -- Tisiphone -- and I aren't, well, people. Or, something? I asked for advice and now I'm more confused than ever, then other things happened and ... Well, can we go inside?"

Remy leads Tasha into the office, which has quite a lot of clearly contemporary medical equipment inside, as if Dr. Caravelli is making sure he knows how to use it. The only obvious bit of high technology is the datapad on his desk. "I'd appreciate it if you spent some time with Neesa, actually," he notes, leading Tasha to a comfortable chair next to his desk. "She feels a bit out of place, and having a woman who's also from Rephidim might help her be more comfortable." Once Tasha is actually seated, Remiel does a cursory check of her temperature and blood pressure. "You do seem a bit stressed. Was this latest battle very traumatic?"

Tasha's smile is brighter when Remiel approves of her offer. "Would she? I'm glad, I didn't mean to ... No I did mean to make her feel uncomfortable, but I regret that decision. I want to make up for it," she admits as she follows after the doctor, taking her seat.

Used to medical checks by now, the young woman dutifully raises limbs and presents her ear for the testing. "The battle wasn't so bad," she explains, head tilted to the side as the thermometer gets placed. "Stressful towards the end, but the party was nice and I got to attend a high-society party with Katherine Vesuvius. What's really bothering me is, um, ever since the fight with Abaddon I've felt like my self-esteem is broken. I feel weak, and lacking, and like I said before, class isn't going well. Gabriel and Hake tried to help me figure things out, but they went on about not having hope in things that aren't people, and um, what sounded to me like self-countering arguements about seeking knowledge in beings I don't understand. Then Gabriel tried to emphasize the importance of havng faith in people and only people, but then I thought about Nora, and our connection, and it felt like even though I know he has hope in me, his words and logic made it sound like he really believed something else."

"And then I just collapsed. Just ... I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't tell him, but I couldn't accept it either. Now I just feel unhappy, tired and confused -- about everything, especially what Gabriel said."

"I doubt he was trying to confuse you," Remiel says, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I did do a bit of research after our last session though, when you told me a bit about the circumstances of your birth. Want to hear my findings?" he asks.

Tasha blinks at this, eyes widening. "Research? But how?" She asks, then her eyes widen a little more as she realizes she forgot something and says: "Please, tell me."

Remiel picks up his datapad and manipulates it for a moment, then turns it on its side and towards Tasha. The display is split, showing two images - one on the right and one on the left. Both of them look like abstract images made of colorful paint splotches - hundreds or more of them.. and each splotch marked with numbers. "These are the psychometric gestalt maps of you and Nora, created when you made your PersoComs," Remiel explains. The two images didn't look anything alike, other than random. "They're the basis for.. well, your personality, thought processes and so forth as used to create virtual representations of yourself. You aren't Nora. Statistically, the few areas you overlap are within the bounds of error and coincidence when common things are taken into account.. and this is after your exposure to her PersoCom in the Fenris, even."

"Really?" Tasha asks as she leans looks, eyes darting as she scans the images and compares. "But even if we aren't like, what about the other things, like control or being a normal person? Nora created me, so ... must be a little different?"

"Not really," Remiel says, and taps Tasha's left hand. "That's the difference, right there. Purely physical. Tisiphone only influenced your development in that you would have Nora's face, apparently. When you first found the Fenris, did anything seem familiar? A sense of deja-vu maybe? Because all of the memory overlaps between you and Nora show as being recent, and with clear signs of PersoCom imprinting."

"Well, no. I didn't even recognize Nora, except, well, I took her holotags and wore them. I'm not really sure why I did it. I think ... I think I felt sorry for her. But it's been a while," the red woman explains, looking down at her tapped hand. "When I stepped inside, it was all new and, well, um, frightening, really. Exciting, but frightening. None of us knew what we were looking at. It was all very ... Very alien. We even discussed leaving you in the tanks, after I had Nora's memories. We were afraid you might hurt us, too. I didn't know anything about Gabriel."

"Uncertainty," Tasha answers, head tilting and gaze becoming distant. "I was curious about him, I remember that. I wanted to know about him. I knew by that point you all came from the stars, but not about anyone other than Nora, and everything else was still vague and new. Here was this man who came from far away, a stranger to my world, someone from anotehr time and place I had a hard time comprehending. And yet he was here. I rememeber sitting on one of the tables, staring at him for minutes -- or maybe an hour? I wondered what he meant and who he was. If he was like us. If he was dangerous. What he might say. He asked me about who I was, and where I came from. He made me feel really inadequate."

"That follows what I know," Remiel says. "Nora's PC on the Fenris would not have had any her personal feelings towards Gabriel recorded. We're trained not to encode that sort of thing. And since you didn't have any built-in attraction to him, I think we can say that none of Nora's actual memories, desires or emotions were encoded into you at birth - which makes sense, since even a spirit still needs a developed brain for that, according to Neesa. One can attach itself to a zygote, but your mother would have already been beyond Tisiphone's influence by the time the fertilized egg actually began to develop."

"Also, from what I know of Nora, she'd never clone herself like that," Remiel adds. "She was just too competitive, and the last person she'd want to compete with was herself."

"So you're saying that Nora, that Tisiphone never really influenced me that much? That all it is, is my face, and some old memories and a few skills?" Tasha asks, looking up and canting her ears back, eyes widening. "What about control or influence?"

"I couldn't get into the specifics of your case when talking to Neesa," Remiel notes. "But from what you've told me, it really seems like it was the iconography of mythical beings that resembled you that led you to seek out some deeper spirituality at the Temple of Abaddon in Dianus, am I correct?"

A little grin comes to Tasha's face as she thinks about Nora having a twin. "I can see it," she admits, grinning a little more as she pictures it in her mind. "Nora hates when anyone helps her. Having any anyone that is also her would annoy her so much! And, it'd be worse if she felt she was being beaten by her copy. Then she'd be furious." The woman then pauses, thinking on the new question, then answers, "Well, they asked me to, actually. They wanted to use my appearance to influence politics by having me pretend to be Tisiphone. That was also when I learned about the name 'Aldara,' which is so accurate to my creation I think it must have come from Tisiphone somehow. I did as asked, but I started to feel really guilty about being a fake goddess, so I told the High Priestess, Nitsa, and she took me in and helped me figure things out, then did some magical tests that determined I, as the Herald, should go to Mount Fenris. You know the rest."

"I'm not someone who believes in predestination," Remiel says. "And I'm too familiar as a doctor with thermodynamic miracles. Your parents couldn't have been the first couple to tryst in Tisiphone's sphere of influence... they were just the first ones that gave her a chance to use existing elements to potentially influence their offspring. It was a shot in the dark. The odds of your birth really aren't all that much different from those of anyone else, given the numbers involved. Tisiphone got lucky. Circumstance brought you to a place where you could meet her and she could send you to the Fenris - at a point in time when the Fenris was exposed. Neesa talked about Strange Attractors, people that seem to sync up with certain events. I don't know what to think about it. But if you ask me, you got where you are because of yourself, and not because of Nora. She may have helped you, but she didn't make any decisions for you."

"Then you're saying, that everything I've done, and all that's happened ... is because of me?" Tasha asks in a quiet, stunned voice as she stares Remiel, her eyes even wider than before and ears perked. Her expression, somewhere between disblief and awe. "It ... It really was me ..?"

"Well, the whole Bird of Hermes thing is beyond me, to be honest," Caravelli admits. "Poems that might be prophecies and ancient gods and whatnot.. that's a level of uncertainty I can't address. But biology and pyschology.. that I can talk about. And in my opinion, from what evidence I see.. yes, it's just you, Tasha. Your mother had infinitely more influence on your development than Nora's ghost. There's no way Tisiphone could have any awareness of you until you actually walked through her door."

Tasha stares at Remielf for a good long moment before sucking in a breath, suddenly looking away and laying her right hand on her chest. She begins to pant, her eyes wide, muzzle-parted overwhelmed expression matching the same scent that rolls off her.

After several seconds more, she whispers, "It's a little hard to breathe," but she looks over and smiles a genuine smile, if somewhat strained.

Remiel grasps Tasha's left hand and squeezes. "Are you less confused at least?" he asks.

Tasha clutchs the hand, taking a moment more to breathe in and out until it becomes a bit easier. "Yes," she says, which is less like a wheeze. "I see what happened, now. I don't know how I didn't see it before; I guess, I didn't want to? I didn't have the faith or the confidence." She lowers her right handm then reaches it to take Remiel's so that both hands hold on. "I think I cou;dn't believe everything I had done was because of me. My self-esteem has never been very high, but it was rising in the face of everything I was accomplishing. And yet, when Tisiphone told me, I think part of me went, "oh, that's the reason," and it became easier just to believe Nora -- who was always an overachiever and extremely talented -- did it all for me. That I was just a puppet carrying out her will. I didn't have to believe in myself, which I found hard to do. I could just believe in Nora. But in doing so, I ended up being miserable. Without believing in myself, I couldn't believe in what I was doing or where I was

"I can't live in Nora's shadow," Tasha decides, noddding a little. "And betraying myself because the one thing I couldn't have faith in was me, only put me there. But, now I remember. It's, um, kind of embarassing really, but, I feel a lot better."

"And you need to have faith in something or someone, isn't that so?" Remiel asks. "It's easier to put that into something outside of ourselves, because.. well, we know our own weaknesses, or come to know them. And we want our faith to go to something.. less imperfect. And that sometimes leads us to build up the objects of our faith to be more perfect than they really are. You've been losing your faith in a lot of things because you've found they aren't who or what you thought, I suspect. But you can still have faith in something imperfect, even yourself."

"Even if I let myself down, I'm what I know and expect, right? At least, I am what i thought -- unless I forget. No, I'm still what I thought, I just stopped believing in it." Tasha pats the man's hand, then lets it go as she leans back in to the couch. "What a scary thing," she murmurs, head shaking. "Losing myself, and believing in myself. But I was always myself, even in believing it all wasn't me. But that belief was misplaced. Just an illusion I made to be happy, ending up miserable. It seems like the lesson is, even if I'm flawed, at least I'm me. And I can at least trust my faith in myself will never be misplaced, abused, or unappreciated. Maybe unappreciated on the surface, but not where it matters."

"Because deep down it was destroying me, I think. The mind forgets, but the heart remembers," the young woman concludes, looking back over to Remiel. "Right?"

Remiel grins. "We all face something like this, quite often in life," he notes. "Doubting ourselves, second-guessing, hoping someone will tell us what to do or who to be when we aren't sure. I don't know what the evolutionary advantage is to that, really. But it's always really up to just ourselves."

"Like in battle. Even if you believe in someone else, or pray to god, it's still really just you. You never abandon you, so it 'behooves,'" Tasha grins, "us to not betray our best supporter." The young woman smiles, looking much more alive now, then puts her hands behind her head and promtly slides right over, sprawling across the couch. "Mmm, now what do I do ... Do I go to Yama or stay here. I feel like I have my confidence back, but I'm still sorting out what I feel I should do. I don't really want to leave the College, and I'm not looking forward to being around Yama for weeks or months. He's probably fascinating though, if he'll talk. If he has anything to say and can stop smashing animals long enough to be civil."

"Well, you could go talk to the Titanians first," Remiel notes. "That at least shouldn't be too hazardous. And as for seeing Caspar again.. well, you definitely need to have confidence for that, and know why you're doing it and what you hope to gain out of it going in."

"I agree. He may just crush me for showing doubt, or not being the person he approved of," Tasha says with a nod, then brushes hr hair from her face. "The Titanians aren't too stressful. I find them relaxing in a way, too simple to be bothered by the more complex problems we deal with, and, at least the ones I've met, usually happy. I've heard they can be dangerous, but I've never actually seen them be dangerous -- except maybe to machines and themselves."

"Mel is against it though," Tasha adds, looking a bit concerned as she sits up to look at Remiel better. "He's Khattan, so I'm not surprised."

"They aren't all like the ones we've met here," Remiel notes. "The Titanians are like.. Vikings. Well, that probably isn't a good example. Raiding barbarians, maybe. Pirates maybe, but.. not too bad. They seem to live for conflict and battle, and treasure, but they don't kill or rape or kidnap. But for the Khattans.. yeah, stealing treasure is worse than murder to them."

"Vikings?" Tasha asks, quite sure she's never heard the word before. "It seemed like maybe they did rape and murder, at least according to some things I'd heard. Everyone seems afraid of them, like they're horrible monsters, but then people also go see their show. It's very strange, like the rest of the world can't decide if they're afraid of them or not. I had expected them to be more more dangerous, just that I hadn't seen any like that. But now they sound less dangerous than the Abaddonian governments!"

The woman grins. "Maybe I should have signed the agreement with them. Oh, the Khattans wouldn't have liked that!"

"I heard that you commandeered Belerophon's cannon to take out the giant monster," Remiel notes. "I'm sure that looked pretty impressive. But that Titanian ship is five times as big as Belle, with technology and weapons we haven't a clue about. Wouldn't you be scared?"

"Feeeehhh," goes Tasha, who waves a hand off, grinning more broadly. "I piloted Balthasar, I'm way scarier than some big alien pirate ship. I also killed a god. But no one runs away from me in terror!"

The young woman then puts a hand on her side, frowning. "I was joking," she admits, her muzzle twisting. "But now I'm actually a little disappointed! Though ... " Her head tilts. "I suppose Katie and Gabriel wouldn't have liked me if I was. Still, it's the principle."

"But you're right, it is pretty scary. It scares me in multiple ways, in fact." She then notes.

Remiel chuckles, and notes, "Hey, the people that built Balthasar and Harmonia were also afraid of them. So I guess that makes you pretty brave, right?"

"Brave or dumb! But lets go with brave, I need the self-confidence." Tasha winks, then scootches back a bit so her head rests on the armrest. "Well, talking to the Titanians couldn't hurt. They make me happy, really, and it'd be a bit like a vacation to help my confidence -- and I'd be working, too. Would you mind helping me prepare? I've never studied a species before."

"I can tell you what I know.. which isn't much," Remiel admits. "The Titanians are a mystery.. or were, in my day. Oh.. I almost forgot.." He picks up his datapad and works it for a bit. "The last time you were here, you talked about hearing singing during your trance, and that it might have been Katherine. It got me curious, I listened to some of her stuff. The Katie Kaboom pieces were all fairly martial, meant to inspire or praise the troops and such. But before that, she actually had a few recordings as Katherine Vesuvius.."

"Talking about Katie is going to ruin my concentration, you know." Tasha notes with a wry grin. "Gabriel and I are thinking of letting her in to our relationship. If she ever comes by, why don't you talk to her, too? I'm sure she could really use your advice. She's a lot more lonely then she appears. Anyway ... " Lifting her arms, Tasha pushs the pointer finger of both hands to her temples and closes her eyes. "I will try to focus. Please tell me about both."

"Here it is," Remiel notes. "I found it on a record of a talent show, from when she was about sixteen. Something about it.. made me think of you, actually. Here.." The song begins, and Katie really does sound young:

After the song ends, Remy asks, "You've actually talked to Gabriel about that, or Katherine?"

"Awww," goes Tasha, who peaks with one eye. "She sounds adorable," the young woman admits, "And I can see why you'ld think that. I'm still now sure why I heard Katherine, or what I means, but the song makes me think we have more in common than I thought -- and we already have a lot in common. I asked her if she had been created artifically, as I had, but now I see that wouldn't have meant much anyway. She is a bit like Nora, but their personalities are very different and I can't see Nora doing what Katie does. Maybe it's ... Maybe I just hear people who I'm connected to? Or need me? Is that presumptious?" The eye closes again, and then Tasha says, "Gabriel. I know Katie is interested, too. Katie can't have a normal relationship, because of her position, and she defintely can't have one with a woman. So I thought, maybe she could use a secret relationship she doesn't need to feel guilty about."

"I wouldn't mind getting her on the couch sometime," Remiel says, then blinks and explains, "To talk to, like we are. It sounds like she doesn't have anyone to confide in, other than you, perhaps. And I'm sure Gabe wouldn't turn down the opportunity, if you were there as well."

The young woman giggles at the slip, grinning all over again. "She does that to people -- makes you make those sort of slips. I had my datapad still recording when she snuck up on me, so now that's a record of me giggling like my brain had fallen out of my head. I think I accidentally sent it to Fred and his apprentice when I was sharing the applause for the combined effort." She she wiggles, settling back in again. "Oh I'm sure he wouldn't. As for Katie herself, you're right. She puts on an air of being unapproachable -- and she isn't, in many ways -- but deep down she's really lonely. I think she's afraid of losing herself to her career, which I sympathize with considering Nora and I. Originally I stayed with her because, um, well the usual reason, but that wasn't enough, I also just didn't want to be alone in the face of all the fear I felt. But the more time I'm around her, the more I see how special she is. Beyond Katie Kaboom, Kathrine is a beautiful person -- radiant, like the sun. And just as

bright. She likes to read, and knits, and she wears glasses and ... Oh, there goes my focus again!"

"I do. If she was just pretty, I might have lusted after her. Maybe we'd have been together a little while. But there's a lot more to make me want to stay with her. It was a little hard to see past her more, um, well you know. Obvious attributes. You know me! And I think maybe she hid them at first, but the more I'm with her, the more I want to be. She lets her real self slip now and then, and I think seeing it is more endearing than the glitz and the glamour -- though I like that too. And yes, I know that's bad -- but I like being close to the culture she represents, too. It's a bit of a indulgence," Tasha explains.

"When I came back from my dance with Captain Frane, she was eating this ... this pastry. She looked at me with this mix of guilt and defiance, and you could tell she had looked forward to doing it since she got there. She'd have never been allowed before. I didn't think too much of it at the time, but now, it's stuck with me," the red woman adds.

"You'll need a fancy name then," Remiel says, and holds his hands up. "Tasha Turbo! Titan Tash!" He grins, then nods. "The life of a celebrity is generally tightly managed. She's still part of the military as well - Katie Kaboom is really a propaganda and morale figure. Not what you'd expect from a little girl singing about angels in her head."

"A title? I don't know, I think I just like being plain old Tasha at the moment. It's nice to be me again." Tasha lowers the hands from her head, opening her eyes smiling. "A part of me envied her life and all the adoration she got, but I don't think I could make the sacrifice needed to have it. It seems amazing at first, but then you see what she has to do for it, and how unhappy it makes her. She seems more like a prisoner in her own life then a top-of-the-clouds, powerful celebrity." She then tilts her head, her smile fading a little. "I wonder what happened to her? What made angel-loving Katie in to Katie Kaboom, the famous but closely regulated icon? I know her father is very powerful, but I've never met him so I don't know if it was planned or if someone else handled it."

"I suspect it's part of her military assignment," Remy notes, and stands up to stretch. "Feeling hungry? I think it's taco night at the cafeteria."

"Of course. I didn't eat much because Katie isn't allowed to, and I don't like eating what she can't. I don't know how she survives on what they feed her though." Tasha sits upm then swings her legs over the end of the couch and leans forward, flapping her feathers a few times to even out her wings before pushing herself to stand. "And as promised, I will talk to Neesa when I see her. Since I'm here and my College status is up in the air, I think I'll file for a pause in my training while I sort out what I want to do, then see about the Titanians and use that time to help me get my head on straight." She joins the man at the door, then follows him on out, saying, "So, what's a taco anyway?"