Bellerophon Geo Lab
Aside from the instruments that are still in their original seals, some of which are fairly large, this lab is mostly empty space. There are folded up carts and worktables, a sample-storage wall and enclosed units with mechanical manipulators for handling hazardous materials.

When Tasha and Shojo arrive, they find Dr. Zerachiel, Aaron, Liza and Nora standing around while a cylindrical ceramic object hovers in the center of the room between them. It's covered in magic symbols, and seems to have two parts: a central cylinder about eight inches thick and twice as high, and a sheath about four inches tall and four inches wider than the central part. It too is covered in glowing symbols. Both the sheath and the cylinder have handle-shaped protrusions - for the cylinder they're on the top and bottom, and on the sheath there are two, each on opposite sides. They look like suitcase handles, but are clearly fused or extruded directly from the objects.

Eli is reading through a loosely bound binder, while Nora just scowls at the thing.

As for Tasha, well, she had a nap. An unexpected and very sudden nap, but a nap just the same. After concluding her report to Horus and thus completing the core of her mission she realized she'd had quite enough and needed a little breather. A breather that might have lasted well in to tomorrow had Shojo not woken her up. Between Horus's haughty gloom, the weight of her overall task, flying across half a continent and back and having been awake over twenty-four hours, she can't quite feel excited about materials discovery right now.

Still, she's here and no one is likely to wnat her scientific opinion. spoof "Isn't magic fun?" She asks, then promptly covers her mouth as she yawns.

"It's frustrating," Nora declares. She reaches out and grabs one of the handles on the object - one hand on the sheath and one on the cylinder. She then pushes the sheath a bit towards the top of the cylinder, and the device (and Nora) rise slowly towards the ceiling.

"I'm as surprised as Mage Iona that it works," Eli mutters as he reads through what may very well be the instruction manual. "But that little chunk of toporgic is inside the cylinder. Apparently taking the place of the 'impossible' enchantment that's supposed to be there instead."

Tasha grins with amusement, glad that this frusterating mystery of thing beyond the ken of modern sentients isn't her probem and that someone else has to deal with it. Between extra-dimensional beings, their politics and their natures, she has her hands full. "I have absolutely no idea how it works," she offers in cheery unhelpfulness, "And I'm not sure I want to unless it helps us or me somehow."

"It works.. less effectively than the original gravity thruster it was derived from," Eli notes. "Which Iona never actually saw, she just got the specs for it in the mail. But it's not something a Master Earth Mage can replicate alone, apparently. This one uses a single gravity enchantment in the sheath, which shifts how the toporgic is affected when you move it."

"That's fascinating." Tasha turns to her understudy. "Isn't it fascinating Shojo?" She begins nodding, trying to get him to nod along with her. "It's so fascinating I think I need to sit down, close my eyes, and really think about it."

"I heard that! Shojo, go smack him for me." And so Tasha waggles her hand Aaron-wards.

"It has a mass limit to what it can move.. about a hundred kilos. So.. a person, basically," Eli reads.

Shojo looks at Aaron, who waves back at him. Instead he turns to Eli, and asks, "Would it not be simpler to get one of the better versions mentioned?"

"Not really," Eli notes. "Plus.. if no other Mage can figure out exactly how it works, we're much better off with a kludge we can sort of understand."

Tasha's hand falls and she just can't resist. "It has a mass limit and it could lift Nora?" She jabs, then since Shojo isn't going to do what he's told and no cup of Mateh has materialized in her hand she wanders away from the door, roaming until she finds un unoccupied spot on the counter. There she lifts herself up, has a seat and leans back to rest her head between the bukhead and a wall mounted cabinent.

"The main thing is someone got your nightmare monster crystal crap to work," Nora points out to Tasha. "It's amenable to magic."

"Why are they my nightmare crystal monsters?" The hybrid inquires, arms folding over her chest as she shifts to try and get comfortable "I'm not a drover anymore, I don't take care of monsters or their crap. I have enough to deal."

"Wait.. nighmare monsters?" Aaron asks, and looks at Tasha. "Your mother did not mention nightmare monsters."

"She doesn't know I pilot a giant robot, talks to godlike beings, have wires in my head or killed old Blackwings either. I like to keep my crazy life away from my boring old life. And besides, she wouldn't understand and she'd worry, and that'd make me worry." The Cadet rubs her nose, then squirms a little more. Cabinents and structural material make for poor pillows.

"Well, now I'm worried," the Lapi claims, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you going to do with this anti-paperweight anyway?"

"See Nora? You've worried Aaron. I'm beginning to doubt your eliteness." Another yawn. "The 'paperweight' will probably be studed further and we'll see if it can be replicated. Then it'll be assessed for engineering purposes -- you know, applied science -- and from there it'll be evaluated for integration or distribution for production by outside parties."

"Oh sure," Tasha replies, waving the idea off with the fingers of her tucked away Karnor hand. "'Leaders of business,' at least one major industrial partner and I'm sure we'll get more once they see what they're missing out on. Of course, we need a lot more personnel. As much as I like Mr. V., I don't think I have the time or qualifications to handle the business side of things."

"That's probably for the best," Liza offers. "Katherine's people are much better at it."

"They really are," Tasha agrees. Deciding the wall is never going to comform to her comfort wishes, she sits up, pulls her wings in, then lays her head against the soft confines of feathers. "Katherine? Everyone knows Katherine on Abaddon. Katherine Vesuvius is Katie Kaboom, star of, uhh, song and posters!"

The buck ruminates for a moment, then looks at Tasha squarely and asks, "So, is she the one responsible for the Winged-Gift comic book?"

"Star of song, poster, and comics," Tasha replies with a big grin. "Everyone loves Katie."

"Hmmmmm," Aaron muses. "I think you're hiding something from me.. But it doesn't matter! There's plenty of time for you to catch me up on everything." He then grabs the Floater, and reattaches it to its harness inside the big backpack.

"Well!" Tasha's eyes snap open. "That was very productive and enlightening and discover ... um ... -tastic. I am glad I came. Shojo? Aren't you glad we came?" The young woman slides off the counter, then smoothes out her uniform and feather as she adds, "Liza? What's next on my itinerary? Is it food or sleep? Can it be both?"

"Well, normally you would be debriefed by the captain," Liza says. "But I suppose that can be postponed until you've rested up."

"As much as I love the Captain I think I love sleep more. If I ever meet sleep personified, they can fight over me." There's another copious yawn and Tasha actually stumbles shortly after, blinking dazedly. "Erg," she grunts, shaking her head to clear it before walking on. "I am beat. I better not be sick either, not with regular-sick or with dark god sickness. I don't even know what that is, but it's probably out there and I'd probably get it. Liza, come."

After a bunny-assisted nap, Tasha feels a bit more alive - and Liza didn't even complain about the ear-chewing (although she did wash them once Tasha was up). It's nearly dinner time, so Gabriel combined debriefing with a private steak dinner - he'd managed to acquire a good amount of Vasterlion 'beef' for the ships stores.

"So," Gabriel says, fork waving a juicy chunk of meat before him, "Horus is curious about the Dark Horse. Not sure what to make of that. I was hoping for something more definite as a course of action."

"Wrell hesh's drefinitrey a lot grumpur thran I exprectud," Tasha notes as she chews, understanding it's okay to talk with her mouth full around Karnors who understand the value of fighting hunger over serving propriety -- especially in a pinch. Asside from traveling long and far she hasn't eaten much except MREs and other rations, including an alarming assortment of protein and not so protein (candy) bars. After she wallows she twirls her fork contemplatively. "I don't know what he wants with the Horse and he's holding saving my life over my head. Really, he's haughty and her's grumpy and he's ... He's like dealing with an old Vartan man. Just, um, vaster. And alien. At least the Source was straightforward like usual and you can thank it for deciding not to eat my soul, I know I do." And then she forks a wedge of steak, tossing it in her her muzzle to puncturate the point.

"So, do Vartans get their temperament from Horus, or did he get it from the Vartans?" Gabriel asks with a grin. "Frankly, it's good to know that Horus acts more like a Vartan.. because Vartans aren't really known for scheming. I assume we'll be leaving Aaron's gift with the Viceroy to puzzle over?"

"Hey I can scheme just fine," Tasha notes, waggling her fork at Gabriel. "I just don't like to." She reaches over and tosses back her choice of drink, which happens to be a local brand of beer, then continues. "And that's right. I don't know what to do with it, Eli and Nora are puzzled, and really all of us have more important things to do right now. Mr. V's a lot better suited to it and I'm sure he'll come up with answers. Answers and production."

"At some point another survey of the volcano will have to be done," Gabriel says. "I think that probe you had Fred assemble for checking out Katha-hem's underwear will be useful for that. I can add to the list of stuff for Eli and Remiel to deal with."

"Katha-hem," Tasha mutters, stabbing her fork in to a square of meat and leaving it there. She props her head on her free hand, shaking it a moment later. "I have to decide what to do about Katha-hem too. The Source says the best way to deal with the Ogdoad is to destroy the Ogdru-hem. That's Katha-hem and Sedu-hem. Horus know about this, too, told me the old Galactics used to use killing them as an excuse to kill each other. The problem is, I don't like the idea of killing slaves."

"You've only met one of them so far," Gabriel says. "And it was making giant monsters. Who knows what the others are up to. But it all comes down what can be done first. Then you worry about the what to do."

"Well I can kill Katha-hem. It even said I could, said it wouldn't stop me. It also said in the three futures it foresaw, in two it would be dead and either the Sifrans or the Ogdoad would have won. I don't know what to think of that either." The steak square gets lifted and inspected, turned infront of the hybrid woman's eyes. "Maybe I should just toughen up. Just, I don't know, accept how nasty things are and stop trying to save everyone. It's not like I'm trying to apologize anymore for being lucky, it's more that I feel bad for those who aren't. Like Katha-hem, like Blackwings. Even if they're cruel, or dangerous. It'd mean I'd have to act like I'm better than they are, or that they're just inconvienent."

"I think you need to take more of a police versus criminals view," Gabriel says. "You're the police. Law and Order, Serve and Protect. They're the criminals, trying to not just break the law, but break everything. Whether they are in control of what they do or not, it doesn't matter: it still has to be stopped. That's the priority. Rehabilitation or the equivalent comes after, if possible."

"So I'm the Guard now? Did you know I used to be a pickpocket? Now I'm the, um, space guard. Space police?" The young woman shakes her head at it all. "Blackwings would laugh her beak off, or, uh, maybe she wouldn't. Not now. She's changed. I guess that's the rehabilitation part. I'll help everyone rehabilitate by killing them and eating their soul." The steak gets tossed away and so Tasha stabs another. "That's probably what happened. The Source can eat souls, so when the Mage did his thing, some part of Blackwings got caught in me, like a, uhm, a mouth without the ... swallowy part." She shakes her head again. "Police. Is that really how I should act?"

"It's just how you could better frame your relationship with the Ogdru-hem," Gabriel notes. "You're actually a vigilante pirate."

Tasha squints at this. "I'm a space police vigilante pirate?" And so her ears go askew. "Are you trying to drive me insane, Gabriel?"

"If I wanted to drive you insane, I'd use music," Gabriel claims. "Vigilantes also hunt down criminals. So it would just be vigilante pirate, not police vigilante pirate."

"The key difference, for us, is that vigilantes don't get paid," Gabriel adds. "That's what the pirate part is for."

"I was trying very hard to not be a pirate, you know," Tasha groans. She pushes teh steak bit around her plate, imaging it's her ship raiding other ships. One piece of meat chewing on others. "You're okay with me being a pirate? I know the local governments back us -- and me too -- but will that keep going? Do you think Katie and Shojo will be okay with being a pirate?" Somehow the young woman doesn't think Liza will mind -- she's seen enough of her mercenary spirit to know better.

"Well, we'll go with 'privateer' then. A bit more mercenary, but less likely to be arrested," Gabriel offers. "I'm sure Katie will think it's fun. But I assume jobs will mostly be like the one Dr. Sen sent us on. Smuggling of things people want kept secret. Also.. have you shown Katie your paintings yet?"

Tasha waves the spin off with the hand that props up her head. "No, it's fine. I could handle the Hall of Souls and take this on, I can handle not needing to rename myself just so I can feel good about it. It's just, um, hard to accept. I'll get over. So!" Sitting up and putting her fork aside, the young woman lays a hand over her heart. "I'm a big pirate." And then she blinks. "So, that makes you a pirate captain and me some sort of ... help me out Nora ... Kingpin? Mastermind?"

"No, I'm just a captain," Gabriel claims with a grin. "My boss is the pirate. Plausible deniability!"

Tasha picks up her fork and actually flings the meat square at Gabriel with it, though she does at least aim for his head with a certain expectancy.

Gamely, Gabriel tries to bite it out of the air, but it bounces off his nose and lands back in Tasha's beer. "Oops," Gabriel says, and wipes his nose. "I'll get you a new beer at some point in the future."

"It's still a better beer than anything I'd have back in my old life. A pirate boss can't be upset by meat in her beer. Blackwings wouldn't have been put off. Of course," here Tasha's head tilts, " ... she might have cut whoever did it in half. You should be glad I like you so much!" And then she shrugs, picking up her beer and drinking it and the chunk down too.

With that done, she spreads her hands. "So, Katie would think it's fun. It worries me she won't take things seriously and end up with the Hake-bear Stare some time in the future. But, Hake seems to have gotten a hold of herself, and Katie's probably tougher. The money-making missions can help us hunt the Ogdru-hem, too. Uh. Paintings. Not yet, I've been very busy."

"You'll need to show her, because you need a buffer for having run off again and not seen her since you got back," Gabriel points out. "She's got a datapad too, after all.."

"I know, I know. I hope when she comes with us she'll finally understand how important and distracting everything I'm doing is." Tasha taps her temple with her free hand. "I thought she'd be more mature about some things, but maybe that's the glamour and the rank and my assuming. I wonder if Katie has ever been in real danger, isn't she rich? Her family?"

"Military family, her father is a retired General - who is still in charge of a lot of hush-hush stuff and probably media control," Gabriel says. "They're a highly placed military-political family, but not rich. Katie's apparent wealth comes from her media empire."

"I wonder what that's like. I know I'm sort of rich now, but that doesn't save me from any of the danger and it's all, uhm, tired up in what we use. I think that's the term." Another piece of steak is speared, Tasha actually eating this one and chewing on it as she chews on her thoughts. After swallowing, she offers, "I could show her the paintings after we're done here? Have you seen them?"

"You showed me some of them in progress, but I don't know that I've seen the completed ones," Gabriel says.

"Lets go look after we're done. I'll call Katie in too. See I can be ruthless and scheming, since you'll help buffer me too by saying how important my work is and how much I sacrifice!" Gabriel gets a wink as the young woman pops another bite of steak in to her muzzle.

The hardest part of it all was getting enough easels, but the Winged Citadel actually had quite a few. Next was sending out the invitations, which really just meant Katie since Gabriel and Hakeber and the rest were all already there - and Aaron, too, since he was nosy. It worked out well though, with the paintings being set up and arranged by the time Katherine Vesuvius arrived.

As this is something of her first public showing of her art, Tasha made sure to dress nicely. She's not in her uniform this time, opting instead for Liza's choice of work clothing and Liza's choice of hair. The mix of mercenary commander chic and polished hair styling give the impression of someone about to sell arms rather than show paintings, but then Tasha never did have a firm grasp of Abaddonian fashion trends -- or the fashion trends of anywhere for that matter.

Standing at the interior entrance to the Titan Bay, she folds her hands behind her back and bounces a little on her hooves. Liza stands nearby and there's already a food cart inside. Food, Tasha remembers, is an important part of these affairs and this the first one she's hosted. She wants it to go well. "Is everyone here, then?"

"I can forgive you waiting until you got cleaned up before calling me, this time, Tasha," Katie says. Aaron is still undecided on if Tasha is the real Tasha still.

Shojo and Nora and Hakeber have also shown up. Nora's been very quiet, since she never tried her hand at anything more artistic than moulding the seat of a motorcycle.

Tasha takes all this with in a grinning stride, turning to gesture towards the hatch with an expression that doesn't waver. "Thank you for coming." To Katie, the process seems awfully familiar. Suspiciously so. It's a thinned out, budget, Tasha-version of the parties and events they've been to together. "I was asked to paint my experiences, impressions, and exposure to a number of events and people. Today you'll get to see them. This will be and exciting exploration as well as scientific."

"What makes it scientific?" Aaron asks, seriously. He's sort of a Sinai version of a chemist after all.

"Uhhh," goes tasha, who busies herself opening the hatch. "Well, a lot of the paintings are impressions of ancient beings, some of which are the creators of modern Galactic species. Others are attempts to capture the emotional esence of the alien, of places outside of time, and of beings so beyond us time and space are like wood and metal to them."

Aaron seems like he's about to say something, but thinks better of it. Everyone else is busy trying to get a look at the first painting.

The first painting is titled 'The Flower of Life.' It's part impressionistic, part realisim. Displays is a swirling, crystalline, flower-like object extending from the surface of some alien world well in to the sky, it's size and scope made apparent by lush forest beneath it. The flower reflects as a prisim -- or possibly creates -- a multitude of colors across the vast expanse of greenery, upon the clouds, and well in to the distance upon the mountains. Yet calling it a flower is no more accurate than calling it a tower of crystal. Many components hang in the air, seemingly unsupported by anything, the design alien and somehow unsettling. It's translucent, as if not fully there, despite having a impact on its surroundings. Solid parts blur in to the impressionistic; a crystal tower, a flower in bloom, a storm of swirling color and light.

"The Flower of Life is my impression and experience viewing the Hall of Souls entrance," Tasha explains, gesturing to the portrait. "It's supposed to reflect the Progenitor's influence on our universe as well as the alien beauty of the structure itself. From this, countless civilizations were seeded across the galaxy and beyond."

"What sort of sound would you put it to?" Katie asks as she studies the painting. Hakeber and Nora study it too - they've seen the source from a distance, after all. Something only exists in their memories, since nothing was recorded.

"Um, I'm not sure. Maybe the billowing of the wind? A sense of time passing, and maybe the sounds of life. I thought that the machine might have made a sound, but it was actually perfectly silent," Tasha answers.

"Appropriate to call it a flower, I suppose," Aaron muses. "They're the reproductive organs of plants, creating seeds or fruit."

Tasha smiles at that. "I thought so too. The light symbolizes their real nature and the 'light' of knowledge and life they shine on the universe. In some ways, the flower is also out beginning. It was probably from here Eve emerged and from Eve came the Humans. From the Humans, the Karnor, Phin, and all the others including Lapi. It is the beginning, but also the end. Speaking of the end, that's next."

"The next painting is what I call The Graveyard of Faces or the Wardrobe of Time. Paintings can have two names," the last insisted upon, both educational and challenging anyone to naysay it. The painting itself is in stark contrast the the last and leans more towards realisim, though the blurs and the colors are more appropriate of impressionisim. Ir's also strikingly somber, painted entirely in monochrome. Depicted are row after row of statues, each different, all in perfect alignment. The angle of the piece is like looking down a well that also serves as a masoleum, the figures in row after row, tier after tier, down the well in to what seems to be light. Only some of the figures are truly detailed, the rest blurs, ghost-like and eerie. There must be hundreds -- thousands of them. And like all tombs, it has the sense of a place left to memory.

"This is the descent of the Hall of Souls. Each figure represents an Archon, and each Archon a civilization. Nearly all of them were from prior civilizations to the current Galactics, so these are the faces, shapes, and forms of the First Ones. I grew up in Rephidim, always hearing of the First Ones. I never thought I'd see their faces and know their nature," the Cadet elaborates, sounding as somber as the piece itself.

"Are they bodies or.. suits?" Katherine asks, leaning forward as if trying to pick out more detail. Her reading glasses even come out.

"Both, I think. A bit like Mel and I. More suits than bodies; the Vril can't exist in our reality without them. The best description might be 'space suits,' if we wore them so much as had to detail them to make ourselves stand out." Tasha cocks her head to the side, reaching over and pointing at one particularly detailed figure for Katherine's inspection. "Maybe even like teh Silent-One's masks. They're all the same, but they're all different."

"I can sympathize with them," Shojo says.. since he's basically 'piloting' his own body due to his syndrome.

"I know you're full of energy on the inside too," Tasha teases, grinning at the man. She turns back to the painting and gestures at it again. "When I saw this, I thought about all the civilizations that had come and gone. We know they probably were multi-galactic. They were the children of the Vril-ya -- the Wayfairers -- and the Sifra annhilated them. All of them. I don't think I could have handled looking at their faces for any longer than I had."

"Did these aliens actually create the First Ones, or just use the suits to interact with them?" Gabriel asks.

"Yeah.. they seemed to find it really challenging just uplifting our galactic generation," Hakeber says.

Tasha shakes her head. "I don't know the details, but it seems like the Archons take on the form of their children. Or make their children in their own form, but I think that's less likely. They do know how to uplift, though, and may have met early civilizations and helped them as much as uplifted and taught. I do know that whatever they did, a lot of them managed to return to the Hall. We don't know how many were lost, but there were thousands at least compared to very few this generation. Some may have been lost -- that may be why there are so few now. The Vril-ya are being cautious, testing things out, trying to find out what happened -- and they did. If things had been different, they'd have all left us and returned to Atum."

"Sure it wasn't just a few.. uh.. Vril-ya.. using lots of different suits, depending on who they were going to visit?" Aaron asks.

""Many a name he hath full sure, and all of one nature,"" Tasha quites, turning to regard the painting. "They are all different, but they are all the same. It's only when their essence seperates that two different beings are created. When they return they are one again. If you think about that, then they're all Atum and Atum is Vril. Vril, the universe they come from. Vril, a being who is a universe."

"Maybe that's why the Vril reach out, to not be alone. To Know, and to explore. And this all leads to our next painting." The young woman begins walking, waving people to follow.

The first impression of the painting is one of fire and immensity. Taking up a large amount of the canvas and holding the gaze firmly in its grasp is a tunnel of flame extending forward to an seemingly infinite depth. Within the fire are faces, forms, places, made from and blending in to the roiling inferno, stretching back in to forever. When the eye can manage to escape the all-encompassing corridor it sees that the tunnel is an eye -- just one eye -- attached to a figure of stone. The stone is elegant, covered in mandalas and shapes. It's unclear if the figure looks at the viewer or somewhere ahead and off the painting. His size isn't apparent until the viewer really looks closely.

Far below the head towards the southwestern corner of the painting are figures. Small figures lacking detail. A row of bright beings, a row of dark ones. They're too vague to give a sense of size, but they lead the eye to a figure behind them all and facing the giant: The Melchior. If the scale is correct, then the giant is many thousands of feet larger than a machine that towers over the squat buildings of the pit. The size of a ship; the size of a god.

"Yeah," Tasha admits, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, self-conciously and more than a little uncomfortable. All of the paintings come from her heart, yet the one of Atum might be said to have filled her heart. She can still feel it now, the all-encompassing sense of awe, the multitudinous sense of self, the questions, the answers. She spoke to Atum in a way she's never spoken to anyone except the Melchior's avatar, though somehow it felt like more still. Atum saw her so deeply, even her very self was sectioned and known. She swallows, pushing herself to answer and trying her best to hide how much the painting reaches her. "I-it was and um, it wasn't. It's an impression of Atum gazing in to eternity, which it does, and of all the beings within him. Since Atum exists outside of time with access to maybe an infinite number of realities, I can only describe it by impression of its vastness. Yet it isn't all knowing or all understanding, so it's meant to show Atum gazing at something

Tasha sucks in a breath, exhales, and nods at the painting. "But its eye are fire. The light of the soul. The burning light of Vril. The figures, too." She points at the tiny, indistinct beings. "Those are the Archons free of their suits. And across from them is me."

"They were my size becasue Atum and the Archons were speaking to me on my terms. They were condescending so that I would understand them and no be afraid." Tasha points at the row of glowing figures. "Mafdet, Horus, Ahriman and Neith. They never spoke, just moved. Atum spoke for them. And I, uh ... " The finger slides, pointing to two figures. "I spoke for me. Both of me. The others are ... um ... This hard, you know? The others ... They're pieces of me. Two 'me's, and the others." Her hand moves, indicating them. "Ser Heraphel. Blackwings. Tisiphone. The Source."

"And Mel too," Tasha adds, realizing that might not have been obvious, in hindsight.

"Oh, that." Tasha unsquints and leans back, scratching her nose. "I know. I guess Atum knows it too, now. There was me as a Karnor, and me as a Vartan, and they were both me like the others were -- just more me than the others were. Being a collective mind if confusing when you're not doing it anymore."

"Everyone's mind is a collection of different processes," Aaron claims. "At least according to a Mind Mage that was a regular at my shop because I carried a rare soap fragrance."

"Some are more or less than that, I think. If what Atum showed me is how Atum is, then it'd be like I was, except vast and ... Well time doesn't really apply to Atum. But it'd be vast, and many, and maybe there would be the one or ones who speak and the others. I thought about painting it, but I couldn't. It's just too hard to describe, even in abstract." The young woman shakes her head. "It was even hard because I was trying to speak honestly and I was doing it from two voices. I saw parts of myself I didn't even know were there, sides and desires. The me that spoke to Atum isn't exactly like the me that's speaking now. I think I must be lying all the time, even to myself. But I never saw that so clearly when I was all of myself." She lifts her hands in a unknowing shrug, unable to explain it all further.

"Self-awareness is a b-" Aaron starts to say, catches himself, and finishes with, "big surprise when you aren't expecting it."

"I've had my mind raised to other forms of conciousness before. I merged with Mel and used the full power of our shared mind and I've got Nora's memories stuffed in my head. The Dark beings too. It's always ... different." Tasha shakes her head in bewilderment. She fears that if she keeps thinking on it she'll laps in to stunned silence trying to comprehend and understand it again and so waves people to the next painting. "I'm sorry, we can come back to Atum, but I need to move on."

Tasha nods, turning to walk on and holding her hand on top of Katie's a moment before walking too far to maintain contact. The next work is reminiscent of the second: A doll-like figure in white sits in what appears to be a closet, store room, or alcove. The figure is made of white sections and partially shadowed; its form suggests a human, but without detail nor accessory. It's bowed, looking down at smaller figures that it holds and that surround it. More dolls of various shapes and sizes, some broken, some only partially complete. The pose is one of sadness, regret or contemplation -- perhaps all of these. It is a lonely piece, dark, primarily monochrome with a few muted, dark colors here and there, such as the closet showing the brown of wood.

Tasha doesn't elaborate on the figure, staring at it with ears back, frowning in thought.

"That's not.. you know.. the one from Fenris is it?" Aaron asks Tasha quietly.

"Huh?" Goes Tasha, who looks up and stares at Aaron. "The one from--" She's cut off by Hakeber's guess, turning to nod to her.

Tasha steps forward, hunching down to look more closely at the painting. It puts he below it, so that she has to look up. "I think both. Did I ever say that Eve the Progenitor I liked the least? She seemed whiny, high strung, overwhelmed and dramatic. She made me uncomfortable and so do her children, the Humans." The young woman licks her lips even as she fidgets with her hands, pausing a moment to collect her thoughts and build up to an admittance. "And then I realized why. She reminds me of myself. The parts I don't like, all my weakness in doing what I do. The more I thought about it the more I felt we had in common. Eve wanted to create a family, a people. And she tried, many times. She feared for her family and tried to hide them from the suffering, tried to keep them from the risk. I've done that to Nora and other people here."

The young woman shakes her head, continuing to look at the painting, eyes never leaving it as she reflects. "I was told she tried to be a god, and I thought less of her for it. But I've changed my mind. Eve tried to bring the Vril and people of our reality togetehr and failed. Make us one combied people. Make her own family. I don't think she was wrong to try. I don't even blame her for her weakness; the universe broke her heart. She seemed to try so hard, and it broke her heart. In the end it was too much for her."

Tasha reaches up and pulls Gabriel closer. The unspoken understanding between them is clear enough, tasha fearing she'll end up like Eve in the end and Gabriel promising he'll always be there. What few of the others realize is what Tasha asked in return from Atum, that the price for her work was a people. Had she been 'whole,' she doubts she'd have ever said such a thing -- yet deep down in the core of self her parts betrayed her with a desire she was too ashamed to ever admit. A people, the making of dolls. The path of the Progenitors, yet unlike them she's just one person -- and like Eve reaches beyond her place for something higher. It is then that Tasha realizes something.

Though Eve has failed, faded prhaps to merely an ember, like Horus she should still exist in some form or another. She once told Horus so long as he existed there was still hope; he could still have all he wanted, save the Vartans and defeat the Ogdoad. She comes to decision.

"It's not over," she declares though it's uncertain to whom. "As long as we exist, it's not over." She will find Eve. And they will try again.