The Night City
The city made of dark stone is never lit by sunlight, depending on the auroral displays of the Astral Plane and its own light sources. Shadows can be of different colors, but always dark ones, and there are plenty of shadows. This is fine for a place that deals in shadowy transactions.

The stairs end, appropriately, at a dock at the edge of the city. From what Tasha can see, docks surround the island itself. Most are empty, but some have similar stairways that fade away as they rise into the air. There's no water, just the endless abyss of chaotic colors. One of the odd flying ships is moored nearby, looking like something that was grown rather than constructed.

While most of the entries into the city are just alleyways, the dock that connects to Elesteria is close to a broader avenue.

"Well, I like this," Tasha remarks as she walks. Looking as she does, she assumes most will think she belongs here and, like that would-be demonstrator, assume she's a representative of some fell power and leave her alone. Or that she is a fell power, and want a deal, or leave her alone. Whatever the case may be she thinks her choice of attire works well here. "I suppose we'll hit the main street."

"At least it's well lit," Gabriel says. It isn't that well lit, as there are still plenty of pools of shadow. They have an almost physical presence. There are a lot people there, however. Being closest to the docks, the shops are likely to feature fresh goods. Including food, because there are plenty of cooking odors slowly coiling in the still air.

"We just ate so we probably don't need food, but we can at least look around and see what's come in from the cosmos." And so Tasha does just that, breaking off from heading for the main street to seeing what goods are available dockside. Dockside goods are a mixed bunch, and often an attempt to quickly evade taxation or other duties as Tasha well knows. It can be excess stock, last minute or otherwise oddball shippage without a more established sales method, and sometimes there can be good deals. There can also be good scams, bad scams, and desperate attempts to get rid of contraband -- not that she thinks there's much, if anything, banned in a place like this.

The closest shop is a butcher or meat market. Cuts of meat hang from hooks and chains. While some are clearly from exotic beasts, there is also a human torso. A cloaked dragonkin customer is bartering with the cloaked proprietor over a human leg. The proprietor speaks the familiar, scratchy whisper of the K'hu'an.

"Well unless someone needs a human torso, I think we can skip this one." Tasha does not remark on how ill the sight makes her, she's good at hiding and dealing with nausea from years on growing up a home that was always shifting and she doesn't want to appear weak in a town like this. "Lets see what's next."

"Haven't heard that language in a while, though," Tasha remarks thoughtfully as they walk. "I didn't expect it out here. I wonder if that means the Lloigar frequent this place."

"All alien stuff?" Katie asks when Tasha joins back up. It doesn't look like Sharon has seen what's on sale yet. "Don't get too separated," Gabriel points out. "Could be anything in those shadows and all the weird odors make it hard to keep track of everyone."

"I agree. And no, nothing. Just bear in mind we're in a region where anyone and anything can be food, including us. Don't take the usual social mores and, um, humanity for granted. Treat everyone like they could be Thotep or Sam, or something like him. Even the mortals can be strange here." Tasha is, technically, some small part Lloigar, and she wonders if that has meaning here -- or anywhere. She supposes if it does, she'll find out. "And yes, watch the shadows. Space-time and general locality is a lot more fluid here."

"I've never seen so much diversity," Lacci says as she watches the crowds. "I mean, some of them are hideous, but I have to wonder if this is what it was like in the previous epoch, before the fall of the First Ones. I mean.. look at that little tree thing with robotic legs! It's a tree."

"Keep your holsters unlatched," is Katie's advice. She has one hand resting on the hilt of her saber as well. "This may be a bit darker than your typical black market."

"This was probably what it was like. I can't imagine multiple galaxies being uniform. It's amazing they managed to get along so well. When I think about it, it makes me sad. I wish I could have seen it for myself." Tasha's used to mixed species, and totally new and totally hideous new species for that matter, so she manages to avoid tourist gazing -- at least overtly. She's definitely looking, and she's taking mental notes. "Now that I think about it a place like this would really attract Lloigar; as a servant race that answers sacrifices and provides service, this would be a town that attracts them, or at least their summoners."

A cloaked figure passes in front of them, leading a naked human on a tether. The human has some sort of barnacle on her forehead and a vacant expression. And the creature holding her leash is heading for the meat market. Something (likely Blackwings) in the back of Tasha's mind tells her that there is probably a slave market nearby. A source of both servants and potential sacrifices along with the flesh itself.

"That woman looks lobotomized," Sharon says quietly. She's been keeping behind Gabriel and close to Shojo and Hakeber. "They must have book shops here," the scholarly Karnor says.

"Annnd that's the downside to places like this," Tasha remarks with restrained neutrality. Another part of her would like to spin around and murder that being, her hand flexing on her sword. She's slowly to agree with Hakeber, nodding, "Yes, probably, and no restrictions on the books, either." She resolves to keep a closer eye on Sharon and maybe inquire about laws against violence in this place.

The closest thing to a guard or police presence is a pair of beings leaning against a wall. They've got weird looking polearms, and wear neck-to-shins mail shirts. They look like Karnors with a skin disease that causes fur to fall out and be replaced by rough bumps. One is watching them, and makes a kissing motion with its lips when Tasha notices them.

Tasha barks a laugh; some things never change where ever she goes. So, she walks up to the potential guard and asks, "So big boy, what are the laws around here? I got summoned to deal with some mortal mish-mash and blah blah blah contract doesn't let me murder anyone that's against the law, and I kind of want to murder some people. Maybe save us both some grief and tell me the limits?"

There's a pause before the guard speaks, and even then Tasha doesn't understand him. He looks at the bracer on his arm, and then makes some gestures over it. "Do you understand me now?" he asks. "Your psionic translator isn't one we're familiar with."

"The problem with getting called all over, there's never a translator that just works everywhere, you know? Or a universal brochure. I'd kill for a universal brochure." Tasha heaves a sigh as if to say, why can't the multiverse just do what she wants? "And yes, I can, though that should be obvious now, right?"

"There should be translator vendor around the corner," the guard says. "The rules here are simple: no theft, property damage, aggression towards merchants, interrupting or interfering with commerce. We work for the merchants, by the way."

"I like that, don't mess with the merchandise. You probably don't care if I make someone merchandise either, so long as they weren't about to, oh, pay on a big contract or worked for someone. You know, effect business." Tasha smiles. "And if some nobody gets on my nerves, maybe I'll be in a selling mood. And thanks, maybe I'll go look. I have, let me tell you, like a pile of translators back home."

Tasha laughs again at that, eyes rolling in an amused but not offended way. "First, the scared looking Human girl is also me, she's just there to bait idiots in to doing something stupid I can take advantage of. I'm doing business, lets say, then some moron tries to kidnap her and suddenly my business is disrupted and well don't you now owe me, you little shit?" And now her smile is toothy. "There's a cute little wolf boy who is also me, same deal. The bird's my bodyguard, the little girl bird's his toy -- a gift I gave him -- and the big wolf and little wolf girl are all mine. Honestly?" She holds her hands out; what can you do. "I wasn't even expecting to be here. I was summoned to handle some crazy-ze-nonsense for the Queen of Demise, then that went crazy, and now I'm doing whatever while I await the call again. Could have work for Mr. H, you know, the guy who likes Yellow? And others. Have some gods to fight. You know the drill."

"Best to avoid gods whenever possible," the first guard says. "So you're a hiver then, explains your odd psionics. Don't get a lot of demons these days. In any case, welcome to Gomratt."

"Thanks, I like the city already. As for my being here, well, work got displaced with the Queen popping in to the Unformed -- and I'm not going in to that abyssal shithole -- and now some of us are just.. waiting." The woman sniffs. "Had to dodge a bored higher-dim angel just getting here. Watch your spleen if you swing by Sarnath." Tasha gives what could be called a cheekily mocking but friendly bow-curtesy. "And thanks. See you around?" A wink, then she's off.

"Thanks for not getting us arrested," Katie says to Tasha when she returns, and sports a sardonic smirk."

Tasha's grin is wide. "And why would I do that? You all belong to me, one way or another." She then relates the laws, and also their relationship to her in this place. "So you're mind. Don't fuck with you, because it's fucking with me, that kind of thing. We're here because work's been disrupted and I'm taking odd whatever jobs. Sharon's bait for my personal and financial amusement. Also, there's a translator vendor around the corner."

"Of course I'm the bait," Sharon grouses, but Hakeber throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for a half-hug.

"As long as you don't have to display your demonic powers, we should be fine then," Katie says. "It's concerning that they could detect and even block Kai's translation thing. It suggests that psionics are pretty commonplace here."

"Oh don't take it so hard." Tasha throws her own arm around Sharon, then she starts walking. "Some day you too will be thought of as a demon who can walk up to guards and sass them in to being helpful." She then turns to nod to Katie."Oh, probably very common. As for my powers, I actually have demonic powers, thank you. I just will be holding back the rest of them so as not to disrupt business. The law can be a sword and a shield, here and everywhere."

"Hmmm, could also attract demon hunters," Gabriel says, looking around. "I guarantee there'll be a shop here selling demons in jars." Then he's focused on the people at the slave market. One of them looks like a moderately-sized dragon with six wings, but its entire surface looks like it's made of black chrome, including its eyes. It does turn its head in their direction, and a third nostril in the center of its forehead flares a bit - the nostrils themselves only distinguishable because the emit a soft green light.

Tasha almost notes it and moves on, but then a stray memory grabs her attention, and she halts. "Is that.. a Steel Dragon?" She squints even though she doesn't need to. "I thought they were extinct."

"More like obsidian if you ask me," Hakeber offers. "I saw an obsidian mirror on Sinai."

"Oh. Less interesting by far, but still interesting. Finding a living Steel Dragon would have been quite the discovery." And probably quite the fight, if Tasha's memories of how one would view here are accurate. "He seems interested in us, but I'm not sure why. Lets keep walking and if he's talking he can come to us about it."

In the middle of the new street is a booth, staffed by something that looks like a winged lobster with a cluster of trumpet-like growths for a head, and several segmented eye-bulbs on stalks. On display are various medallions.

"I wonder how useful having six wings would really be," Tasha remarks as she walks. "I bet the Silent Ones would just lose their spots over it. Despite not having wings, they really enjoy making statutes of people with wings in multiples of two." She looks around, then nods to the lobster. "Those might be the translators. The creature feels familiar for some reason, but I can't place it."

"Greetings," the vendor says in a weird scratchy whisper similar to K'hu'an. This thing would not fit under a cloak though, as it's even bigger than Shojo. "May I assist you?"

"Are you the translator vendor? I heard there was one over here from the guard," Tasha waggles a hand in the man's direction. "Had to pop in after the war went swirly, translator's not big on these parts. Oh, need some 'exotic gifts' of suitable type for some mortal quest I've been contracted to help with, if you have those."

"Translators, yes," the creature says, and makes a sweeping gesture with a gnarly looking pincer over the pendants on display behind glass. Each looks a bit like an eye, set in an ornate frame. Some sport two of the eye-like gems in even more ornate settings. "Basic and Deluxe, each knows over twelve-twelves of spoken language. Deluxe includes several gesture languages and twelves of written languages."

"Hmm. You know I end up with so many of these.. " Tasha picks through them like the teenager she resembles. "I need something good in the Dragonlands, Elflands, out here in the Astral annnd probably other places neither of us know, because who knows where I'm being sent next these days."

"These are suitable for such realms," the vendor promises. Tasha can smell Hakeber's sudden excitement at hearing about written translation.

"Riiight," Tasha drawls, thinking. She taps her chin, rubs it, then looks up, "Alright, so, I'm just here on a side job, so don't expect the usual currencies. Have to pack light. I've got coin from sea-sky-sea land back there, and some Elf Gold I picked up for reporting on the Queen of Demise. Any interest? Oh and the others with me aren't what they seem, not for sale."

"Please present the gold," the bug-thing requests, as another limb holds some sort of device that looks like a magnifying glass.

Tasha pulls out a better hidden bag full of Elf Gold, sliding out a few coins. She doesn't want to give away how much she has, keeping her expression neutral and hoping the Blue barrier around her brain prevents psionic price gouging. "Here."

The vendor runs the magnifying-glass gizmo over the coins, then raises it up to one of its compound eye bulbs. "Sidhe gold," it determines. "Which translator are you interested in?"

Tasha eyes the collection with the bland apathy that only a teenage face can muster. After a moment she steps back, grabs Hakeber's ruff and gently but firmly pushes her to the fore. "Here, you chose, scholar-toy. That's your thing, isn't it?"

"Deluxe ones have two gems?" Hakeber asks the vendor. "Yes," is the reply, so Hakeber focuses on those. After a minute, she points to one with golden cats-eye gems and a painfully ornate frame made of blue and silver metals.

"Good enough." Tasha makes a circling gesture at Hakeber's neck, indicating she should put it on. "We'll see how it goes." She then inclines her head to the shopkeeper. "Thanks. By the way, know a good place to grab some tomes, books, scrolls and the like? The little scholar says it'll be worth my while to look, and she's probably right but, eh."

The two gold coins disappear with the sweep of a claw, and several new exotic coins appear in their place. Another set of limbs removes the translator from the case, and the vendor explains, "Speak aloud directly to the person you wish to communicate with. Whispers are not translated unless you are very close. Make certain the eyes are not obstructed when looking at written words."

"Got it." The coins are stowed away with practiced ease. "Books? Oh, right the books. Hake, answer the man." She slaps Hakeber on the butt encouragingly.

"Old histories and religious texts," Hakeber says. "Also books about cults and their rituals, that sort of thing. Demons, dark entities.."

"Oh right, my kind of stuff." Tasha gestures to herself vaguely. "And beyond. Books on magic, religious magic, that, too."

"Such things are in the dark labyrinth," the vendor says. "Find any alley with no light, and you will enter it."

"Ooo, suitably ominous. And suitably literal? Am I going to spend an eon finding my way out? Because I'm not doing that again," Tasha inquires, frowning after the initial excitement.

"Getting out is easier than getting through," the vendor claims. "The path is never the same going in, but will always lead to what you seek."

"Ahh, one of those. I get it." Tasha taps her head in an understanding sort of way. "Thank you, we'll be on our way then. Come along everyone." And she starts walking, expecting the others to follow.

"So, any dark alley will do," Gabriel says. "Worryingly convenient. We go in with weapons drawn if that's the case."

"Looks like! Chose your favorite dank and dark, and lets see what we see." Tasha looks around, then points. "That looks dark enough. Ready, everyone?"

Swords and pistols are drawn. "It can't be that dark," Lacci suggests. "I wish we had a torch," Sharon says. She's got the weakest eyes of the group when it comes to seeing in the dark.

Tasha draws her sword but keeps her spare hand free, just in case she needs to summon the Yellow Sword or the Blue Shield and needs more control of each. Otherwise she'll summon them in to the surrounding space, as she no long needs the mental crutch of needing to hold them. They are expressions of her soul, after all, not physical objects. "Light might draw more attention or cause other problems, so lets see how we do without. Come on then," and so Tasha heads in first.

It's like walking into ink. But after a few paces, things abruptly change, and Tasha is immediately reminded of Carcosa: all colors become negative. The black stone walls become white, her own fur becomes cyan and slate, while the Karnors are also in darker shades of blue (save for Gabriel's gray, which doesn't change much. Sharon is dark green with deep blue hair, and the Vartans are also in shades of blue. Eyes are a bit hard to look at. The sky is still garishly colored though, so hard to tell if it's changed any.

Tasha holds out her hand, looking down at herself. "Wow, this is a new look. And the sky, ah, that brings back some memories. I don't think blue is my color, though." She looks up, then tilts her head. "And our eyes are a little discomfiting, aren't they? Well, looks like I was right about using lights. We'd have only created darkness."

"You bet it would have! Oh! Lets try this." Tasha stows her sword, then manifests the Yellow sword and the Blue shield. "I bet these will stay the same."

"Oh man, there was a guy I knew that used black-light to light his room," Hakeber says.

The alley goes straight before hitting a junction, with some side alleys splitting off to the sides along the way.

"I knew it. Universals, after all." The Colors vanish and Tasha resumes holding her anti-colored regular sword. Once they reach the alley, she says, "It's supposed to take us to what we're searching for. That could be literal, or it could be this is a living space that's assessing our 'actual' desires. In either case the path we pick shouldn't matter. If it does then this is more of a real, physical space layout, but that wouldn't make much sense if this directions and arrival points are related to need. I suspect is conceptual, probably psionic or warped space. Maybe the inside of a demon or other self contained universe-form."

"So we could end up splitting, if we each have a different desire," Katherine warns. "Do you feel drawn in any particular direction, Hakeber?"

"I hope we feel drawn to each other, or this could get awkward," Tasha notes, looking around. "Well, we can't just stand here, or else our indecision may be a problem. Hake, think about what you wanted to find. Everyone else, think about sticking together."

Hakeber sniffs the air. "Forward," she says. "I think I smell books that way." So, she takes the lead and strides towards the end of the alley.

Tasha stays beside Hakeber, hoping her wide ranging and multitudinous desires don't lead her astray.

Nothing happens until they turn the corner. The alley continues on in that direction, but after a few paces Tasha suddenly finds herself someplace else. She stands on a floor made of bone instead of stone. There are shelves and depressions in the bone walls where plants grow and water pools, and further ahead the walls break up into braided arches and cobweb-like partitions. A bright column of light ahead provides most of the lighting, set in a wide open space with a spiraling ramp along the outer edge. Hanging gardens follow the edge of the ramp, and songbirds sing and fly about.

Tasha pauses, then she sighs a very long sigh. "So much for that." After shrugging to the universe, she starts walking again. As she walks she notes the decor; bones she's not surprised to see, but the life is unusual, especially when paired with the multitude of bones. The ambiance suggests to her a life-and-death theme, with the pillar and ramp suggestive of ascending to meet some greater being -- or at least a being that sees itself as greater. She assumes she's meant to walk up the ramp and meet the being, and oh how indignant greater or 'greater' beings get when you spell out their attempts to overawe you.

Clap, clap, clap, then clang, clang, clang goes her hooves as she makes her way.

Once she reaches the spiral ramp, a quick look down shows things receding into the misty distance, while looking upwards show things receding into another misty distance. At least there aren't clouds inside though.

"Hm, nice." Tasha decides to earmark the sight for architectural suggests later, maybe something to- The thought it interrupted by the voice, and so she duly turns around, sword raised but woman unafraid.

There's nobody immediately behind her, just the hall that she appeared in. It seems to continue on, through several more chambers until Tasha spots a patch of blue that looks like open sky.

Tasha is a bit sick of being lead around by higher beings. Sometimes she'd just appreciate if they'd sit down immediately with her, talk things out directly, but she supposes that would be less scenic and far less memorable. And so, Tasha walks, hoping the others are doing well. They have each other, she hopes, and if not she can only hope her influence and instruction have taught them well.

After the first chamber, Tasha enters a forest with a river. The trees look real too, despite growing up out of bone instead of soil. The whole chamber curves off to the left and right, so may circle the entire level. The water doesn't look deep, and is full of colorful fish swimming the clockwise current. There's no bridge, but Tasha could easily fly across the river to the other side.

The first thing Tasha resolves to do is avoid damaging anything, especially the life here. For one, she doesn't think it deserves to casually be destroyed and two she doens't want to make a bad impression. This courtesy extends to trees and architecture, and to the river and it's life, so she does indeed fly over rather than stomp through the water. She does find it all very nice though; even the bone floor has a certain something to it. She wonders if she's become a bit macabre after all the dark gods, killing, and death.

Beyond the river chamber is one that feels like a cathedral. It's vast and empty, with the walls looking like giant ivory trees rising up with branches mingling into a canopy for the domed ceiling, and even with branches extending out into the open space with hanging gardens dripping from their ends. What really gives it that cathedral feeling is the stained glass window at the far end. The colored panes of glass are of all different shapes and colors, supported by more branch-like bone structures. At it's base is an ivory arch, and beyond that a platform or balcony that's open to the sky.

Tasha pulls out her sketchbook and begins making fast sketches of the place, thinking the decor could really work back in their own piece of the universe. What's more, she wants to remember this place and maybe paint it later. Perhaps a castle like this would be nice, a place they can all gather and she can hang landscapes of places such as this. She has to stop before the archway in order to finish her work, taking a few extra minutes to get it right, then she puts the sketch pad away and walks through.

As soon as she crosses through, her ears pop. As a seasoned airship sailor, Tasha can tell by the air pressure alone that she's about five-thousand meters up, give or take. The platform extends further to the left and right, and to the left she sees a blue ocean reaching to the horizon. Straight ahead is a jagged coastline, and to the right the view is of a vast forest with mountains in the distance. Also to her right is a small (compared to Gwyndrael and other true dragons) golden-scaled dragon. It has white swan-like wings and a white mane that blows in the wind. The head turns and violet eyes look at Tasha, and something deep down in the most primitive part of her brain has the urge to kneel and bow her head to the dragon, but it's a very distant feeling.

Tasha's momentarily taken aback, first by the world, then by the dragon. She certainly doens't kneel, but she does hesitate in the way people due when momentarily caught off guard and overwhelmed by something incredible or immense. Then, she lifts her hands palms up in a gesture of neutrality and apology.

"If I start kneeling and bowing to dragons, they'll never let me hear the end of it." Another pause, then, "Are you.. Danu? Did we meet, once before? Maybe that was a memory?"

"Yes, to both," Tasha hears. "Although in this reality, in this form, I am Daniarood. You are from the one the Vril-Ya tried to 'improve'.. Eve's humans were a disaster. I had to make sure the next version was done properly, like I always have. That little tingle in your hindbrain? That's the Terran memory of me. The reason humans believe in gods and dragons. You wanted to talk to me, didn't you, Tasha?"

Tasha sees this is going to be of a certain kind of conversation. She draws in a breath, then exhales, a "Yeeep," and simply walks over to plop herself down sitting beside Daniarood, knees pulled in, head resting on them.

"I can't imagine you like me very much if the last interaction is any indication. You sound irritated by having to clean up others' mistakes. I know something of the history of your relationship with your two creations, Kainudy and Khryss. I wasn't sure I should even reach out to you, but I changed my mind in what may or may not be a moment of weakness. And so, I'll be direct: Do you like where things are going?"

Daniarood gives out something like a grunt and a sigh. "It took two million years of selective breeding and another three hundred to program and condition them. They gave me this world, and the tower. And then they fell apart. Failures, ultimately. Kainudy abandoned me, this world and her species. She preferred the company of those she created instead. I'm not the one that broke her, Tasha. She did that to herself. She fights a battle she cannot win, not because she wanted to but because of what she is. If she survives, I will take some pride in that."

"Then I take it you don't want to help her? I suppose being ancient as you are, far beyond my knowing and ability to empathize with, the loss of two children however much effort they took, is not of great import." Tasha rolls her head to the side. "A project, perhaps? Disappointing, but educational? Or, perhaps you feel she's beyond reach? I won't say beyond redemption, it sounds like you have moved beyond that, both of you. Separated. I don't believe she abandoned you entirely, however, as the first thing that greeted me when I entered her sanctuary was a statue of you." Tasha then places a hand over her heart. "I know I wouldn't put tasteful stone statues of people I abandoned on my doorstep, but maybe she's very different than I thought I knew."

"I also wouldn't make a statue of Nora, if we're comparing, here. And I love and respect Nora," Tasha adds.

"Do you think me a powerful entity then, because of this reverence?" Daniarood asks. "I am immortal, and eventually I could even access my other selves in different realities. But all that I actually control is myself. What took me eons, Khryss and Kainudy outdid in a mere decade, creating a new species of beings beyond their own abilities. I'm no more powerful than you, Tasha Argentine. I'm just subtle and patient. For the vast majority of my existence I have been alone, the only self-aware creature I knew of. I've watched generation after generation of my own children age and die without ever being more than animals. I am not unfeeling though towards my surviving prot�g�, but there is nothing I can do for her in this fight. I am not a god."

"That's probably going to disappoint a lot of people tossing in those papers," Tasha notes, smiling a little, but in the face of such a long life and so much loss, her smile falters and she just lays her ears back and looks sad. "Then let me try another approach: do you need anything? At the risk of sound trite and unintentionally condescending, you seem like you could use a hug. Do you want a hug? I'm no more powerful than you; I am no god. But I can do that much. I don't want to be your enemy."

The dragon gives Tasha an odd look. "I have no enemies. I suppose you could hug me around the neck," she concedes. "But know that Kainudy has powerful allies. They will also be watching the situation, and will likely step in when the laws that bind them allow for it."

Tasha hops up to her feet. "We all have enemies, even if we don't want to." And then she walks over and gives the dragon a hug around the neck. It reminds her of when she first hugged Kainudy. Of when she chased her little dragon avatar around. Of tia's disappointment, of how broken she felt, and how broken she wanted everything else to feel. And even then she tried, tried to fix things by making them broken.

And then Tasha chokes up suddenly, sniffles a sob, and hugs harder. "I really made a hash of that, d-didn't I?" A sucked in breath.

"You aren't responsible for fixing others," Daniarood notes. "Kainudy thought she was helping you, and it did not go as she had planned. That was a risk she accepted. She is not always successful. Sometimes she falls, sometimes she loses. It is her inability to accept defeat that leads to many of her problems. She chose to break the binds I had put on her power. I had reasons for that, other than control. Power restricts ones actions if it is too great. I wanted her to have some free will."

Tasha sucks in another breath, sniffs, and then wipes her eyes, flicking her arm at the distant ground. She then closes her eyes and nods. "I'm alright now. I just slipped a moment. Hugging you.. It reminded me of when I hugged her. Then everything else. You're right. And I owe you a hug without my own self pity." And so Tasha hugs again, laying her head against the dragon's neck. "I'm by far not the only one who has suffered here. I've made it my own problem to help her family, and that means you, too. Though I think I'd have done this even without that self-imposed obligation, because despite how I seem sometimes, I do care. Or, at least i remember that I care when I can see straight." She then leans back a bit. "It's good to know the others may step in. I don't blame her for the mistake she made, I only regret it happened at all. I think I understand the lesson of power; I've been hearing it a lot myself, directed at me. That if I keep chasing it, I'll lose some control. The problems of immortality. It often feels like they're directed their regrets at me."

"Wisdom comes from pain and failure, and recognizing why it happened," Daniarood claims. "So it is best to share and save others from learning it the hard way. It is one of the few benefits of living a long time."

"I bet you've seen a lot," Tasha lets go, but instead of sitting where she was, she sits beside Daniarood and then drops her head against her side. It's a very canine gesture. "I am an explorer after all. One of the things I regretted most when I died was not being able to see all the fascinating things I know are out there. And, I suppose being some sort of raw entity of pain and loss, Kainudy will be very, very wise after this. If she survives." The dragon can feel the red woman stiffen for a moment, much like when she slipped, but she doesn't slip this time. "What else. I have a plan to try and bring her back. Your experience eclipses mine, maybe you would like to listen to it, and judge its soundness?"

"Well, she's become some sort of.. formless mass of pain and loss. A mass, I might add, that can tangle with one of Nyarlathotep's great avatars and at least come to a stalemate -- or so it seems. I'm still a little suspicious Nyarlathotep's stalemating things on purpose. That's his style. But I digress a bit: What I mean is, back from that state. We fear for her sanity and her self-awareness, her identity. Tia in particular wants her to return to what she had been, at least in personality and sanity. Well, preferably more sanity." Tasha sits up a little, spreading her hands. "My thought is a church. A lot of beings seem to want to believe in her. So we set up a central church in the Unformed, where I currently live, as does Tia and Kai. We spread a message The Queen of Demise is about loss and regret, inflicting, sure, but also providing comfort to those who have lost, and solace to regrets. We could leverage our combined wisdom to provide advice, to help people who need it. Ameliorate pain, wisdom to regret, advice to loss. That so much belief in such a way may shine as a beacon of solace to Kainudy and guide her back to us, so that she can return to a place of peace, people, and welcoming, and not to.. To where she had been. Or worse."

"She never liked being a god," Daniarood notes. "I will tell you how her mind is constructed then. She was built up in layers. I would use hypnosis, drugs and other methods to awaken some part of her awareness, and then lock it in place by induced death and revival. Each layer builds upon the previous one, but each is also a distinct version of her. Some are robotic in nature, called on when rational thought has collapsed in on itself. Others serve various functions. She has added more on her own, the Queen of Demise being one such layer. In this battle, each of those versions of her is fighting. Some may be lost. But her personality will be constructed by the order the remaining pieces are reassembled. Persephone has done this.. somewhat clumsily.. in the past, after the battle with Vorgulremik where the Queen first took control. Things are complicated because of that. She sacrificed her hope to win the battle. As in the aspect of her that represented hope. She has been incomplete ever since, always on the verge of losing control. Galatea remembers that broken version of her, where all of her power was focused inward just to keep herself held together. She needs hope as part of her reconstruction."

"Then we need to create hope. Not in the.." Tasha squints as she struggles to understand. "The usual way, exactly, but a piece, one of the layers of her identity and existence. And you said that requires her to die? Hypnosis? That's a decidedly difficult prospect for me, is there another way? Would creating a place full of hope be enough, or more I approach the matter more.. mechanically, address the underlying mechanism in a specific diagnostic and modification approach? And, I assume, create a place of hope to foster it afterwards?"

Tasha then straightens again, snapping her fingers. "There's a thing of hope! Maybe, possibly? It might be a trap. A black sword-like object, in space. It's something the Necronomicon showed me when I asked if it was possible to traverse the internal dimensions of a specific demon and arrive at the point it intersects a certain time and place. The place Khyrss fell apart. The place where their child was ripped apart. The souls should linger in part within that being. Like road signs. I thought to follow them and gather the pieces, arrive at the far end with them and tear the demon apart. I could then ask Persephone and maybe now you to put the parts together."

"That would involve Null," Daniarood says. "Some of those pieces are within Kainudy already. But hope may not lie in the past. She only learned of Galatea's survival recently, due to you. It was at a bad time, but it is a major regret of Kainudy's."

"I don't like the though of leaving Khyrss and their child like things are. Khyrss has looked after me. When the time comes for me to call him, I should be as close physically as I can be, and then maybe I can draw him back -- but I'll need Kainudy and others ready because all I can do is try to pull him back. A piece of my soul is with him, I could maybe use that to find him." Tasha lays back down, hands spreading as one making a proposition. "If they can be saved, I should try. He didn't abandon me and I won't do the same in return. And I have a soft spot for little dragons. No one deserves to be destroyed like that. I know." And so she winces. "But we don't have to focus solely on the past, we can also work on the future. Galatea seems happier now. Maybe the church would help her, too. Or, maybe we can come up with something that isn't a church, but that requires more thought. A city, maybe. A city of hope. I've been sketching."

"I wouldn't know, precisely, how to go about it," Daniarood admits. "As for bringing back lost souls.. Kainudy has never tried to locate surviving versions in alternate realities. She did not recreate her daughter Ercllyr when she had the opportunity, which was one of the reasons for our.. falling out."

"I believe she said something about you wanting the daughter to be a.. I think something like 'perfect being' you were trying to achieve. A being something like yourself?" Tasha sits up again, turning to look up at Daniarood. "I'm not exactly for denying a child existence out of a desire to snub anyone, but it seems much more complex than that, both the reasons to not do it and the method of recreation."

"And I suspect Kainudy may avoid deep sources of pain and mistake, to the point of determent. Possibly, somewhat like how I avoid Mariel." Here Tasha lays herears back, looking guilty.

"I am hardly perfect," Daniarood says. "I wanted a being that could be everything her parents were from the outset. Something in my image though, unlike the Stelya-ryan. But your thought that she avoids revisiting pain are likely true. All of that pain went into the creation of the Queen of Demise. Facing it would mean facing the Queen as well."

"Either she faces it herself or.. More likely one of us has to." Tasha's ears flatten, but she closes her eyes, draws in a breath, exhales, and then just shrugs with her hands. "How hard could it be. If she can't do it on her own, then I'll help her by doing it myself. I suspect Kai and Galatea will want to help. We'll need more than our limited polymagical abilities and some swords. I don't think either Galatea nor I can exist in the psionic storm they produce. We'd need an answer to that. And a weapon that would work and not kill her completely."

"Also I'm not sure why she didn't want a being like you, you seem okay." Tasha resumes laying, hands behind her back. "Maybe it was obstinance? or fear. I still can't write a letter to Mariel that's more than simple wishing and platitudes. I am terrified of her. Not of her. Of what anything I do around her or say to her or.. anything, of those consequences. Of if she forgot me. Of if she remembers me. Of all the problems my delaying is creating. Or not."

"I'm not certain of what could kill pain," Daniarood says. "I am personally rather numb, but that is a matter of age. Kainudy had valid reasons to leave me, even if I feel it was an over-reaction brought on by stress. Children though, they are very accepting of adults in general. That's how they learn. What are you afraid of, exactly?"

Tasha closes her eyes again, exhales, hands resting on her lap. "Of destroying her. Directly or indirectly. Mariel couldn't survive what happened to her, she was the weakest of the crew. And, when she was a ghost or whatever the Sifra ghosts are, she was my first real friend. Not a friend from a cause, or a lover then a friend. Not someone who needed somewhere to belong. She was just a ordinary friend, and we had ordinary problems. And I wanted so very much to make her happy. And now, she is. Alive, happy, surrounded by people who care about her." Tasha rubs her nose, then the base of her closed lids. "The last time I saw the adult ghost Mariel was before my first severe injury. She chose to volunteer for rebirth first so she could be beside me in the tank. I haven't been able to deal with my emotions about it all since."

"So you are both new again," the dragon states. "If you were physically with her, would you hug her?"

"Oh, wow, I think I would. How could I not? Then I'd probably just cry, and scare her," Tasha admits, she even reaches up and pulls on her ears.

"Children cry for many reasons, I imagine the hug would make the bigger impression," the dragon suggests. "It would certainly make your worries feel less substantial. Distance can cause overthinking. Kainudy decided to distance herself from everything, even those wanting to help her, and that did not turn out well. Don't distance yourself from Mariel, for that is more likely the cause of your concerns."

Tasha pauses, nods, aborts, then forces herself to nod more completely. "I will. I'll take your advice. When I can manage the time to visit her, I will." Another pause, then, she turns just slightly and then pokes the dragon beside her. "You should visit, too. Galatea would benefit from talking to you. So would I. I'm sure with our increased control of the land, we could make a place for you, somewhere out of the way where you can avoid the eventual bustle."

"My place is here, continuing the role that Kainudy abandoned," Daniarood says. "But, visits like these are always a possibility."

"Then we'll see about linking the gate now and then. I know Galatea would get a lot out of it, even if it takes a few visits for you two to sort things out." Tasha nods, then smiles. "There. A bit more hope all around. I'll see what I can do about a weapon that can defeat pain, the loss we can handle another way. Samael once mentioned the color Pink as a kind of Color-power, the most dangerous one. Do you think that could do it?"

"Color?" Daniarood asks. "I have never considered colors as representing things."

"A Color, capital-C-Color. Like this." Tasha holds up a hand, palm up, and a Blue shield rests on it. "These ones come from my Soul as the expression of some Color-conceptual energy. The Yellow is from Mr. Yellow AKA the Boss of Carcosa whose name I won't say for reasons you probably know, and the Blue is from Persephone." Tasha then blinks, and her ears can't back. "Actually Persephone tried to teach me, but I think I frustrated her so she dumped me on Kainudy."

"She was always a bit rash and overconfident," Daniarood says. "So what does Pink represent?"

"Kainudy or Persephone? And.. I don't know," Tasha admits, shrugging. "Samael simply said it was the most dangerous color, and what could be most dangerous to a demon? They're made of pain and suffering, I've experienced it myself, and I make a study of demons and other such creatures. I am battling the Ogdoad."

"Persephone," Daniarood clarifies. "I've never dissected a demon to see what they are made of though, so I defer to you on that. Pink is Red plus White, is it not?"

"Yes, though I'm uncertain the Colors have so direct a connection in meaning. Blue is Eternity. Yellow appears to be Revelation, in the sense of unrestricted and unfiltered exposure to reality, which Kainudy described as being alive while dead. It's hard to describe and there's probably nuance I'm missing. Pink, Red, and White are likely to be as complex. They are the obsessions of god-tier beings." Tasha resummons the Blue. "I've tried bringing the Yellow and Blue close together, but they don't, for example, make Green. I'm not sure what Eternal Revelation would be anyway. Green? Life? Hunger? Greed?"

Tasha's ears lay back. "Eeee, ominous. But you may be right. Lets, um, avoid that one. I don't think I need to be walking around hurling despair at.. anything really. I can't think of it helping in any conflict, it would just make something more reckless. The least i can do is just kill something, not torture it to death. Well, when I have the option. This is really grim." The woman shakes herself out in a shuddering motion somewhere between canine and avian. "So! No Despair. So what's Red? Life? Blood? Passion? Fury? Strength? And White is.. Purity? Stasis? Clarity?"

"I couldn't say," the dragon admits. "For me, colors were for tracking bloodlines."

"It is a rather esoteric bit of arcane research, ins't it? I'm not even sure how to order the Colors among the various hyperdimensional power structures I know of. It's not Wizardry, and it's not among the others, either. And, I suspect there are Colors beyond the ones I can see, because I've seen Colors I can't see, normally. Well, I can see them now because I'm slightly an Lloigar, but surely they have meaning, too." Tasha spreads her hands. "Maybe Hakeber can help me figure it out."

"Extra color perception is a common mutation among females," the dragon notes. "So perhaps there are Colors that only certain women can perceive."

"Woman powers. Gabriel would make a joke about that." Tasha then frowns. "Speaking of Gabriel, as much as I'm really enjoying talking to you, I have immediate concerns and obligations to attend to and, well, when I'm not available to help terrible things seem to happen. I could tell you about the two other times I was away. I'm not sure of what the temporal connection is to this place, but if this isn't instantaneous, I should return. I will return here, too, in time. Maybe I'll even bring Mariel?"

"We all have our obligations," Daniarood agrees. "Stand up and close your eyes," she requests.

"Oh this kind of transport. Right, then." Daniarood gets one last, quick, hug and then Tasha scoots away, stands, and closes her eyes.

She then feels herself get pushed off the ledge. Instead of falling five kilometers she lands on cold stone. "What did you trip over?" Gabriel asks, reaching down to help Tasha back up.

Tasha's eyes snap open. "Oh, just my insecurities and future plans. I'm much recovered, however. Lets go." And so she waves people to follow, not missing a beat and moving forward.

After several twists and turns and some backtracking, Hakeber's nose eventually leads them to a unmarked, rather dirty looking metal door set at the end of a stone alley. "Yes, this is it," Hakeber declares. "It smells of books and desperation." She makes no move to open the door yet though. "Should we knock first?" she finally asks. "So long as they have a bathroom," Katie mutters.

"They're probably expecting us. They may not act like it, but they are. It's part of the presentation." Tasha steps forward now, to open the door. "Be ready."

Musty, almost squalid air exits as the door is opened, and a chime made of bones is set off. The interior is dark save for green-flamed candles set in various places that do little to illuminate more than their immediate surroundings. "Welc-come t-travelers to Tik-k-ki's Phantasmagorium Emporium," a rather ratchety voice greets from deeper inside.

"Ooo, just what I was expecting. Presentation." Tasha walks in, then waves others. "Watch where you walk and move, I don't want to have to pay for anything someone's ass broke." being among the smaller members of the group, Tasha tucks her wings and walks in with Hakeber.

Katie is immediately behind Tasha, and Lacci is the last of the women to come in.. Gabriel and Shojo have to squeeze in behind. There are definitely bookshelves here, though the books are secured in place with locks and chains. Green light reflects off of glass surfaces as well, possibly bottles or jars. But almost everything glows slightly to Tasha's third eye. Including the proprietor, who makes clicky noises the closer they get to the counter.

"Almost everything is touched by an Outter essence," Tasha remarks, as if she were giving a brief tour of facilities. "Including our dear proprietor. Speaking of which, HELLO." Hakeber is guided to the shopkeep in the back.

While the glow is rather shapeless, the proprietor isn't when a new green candle is lit. Now they're very glossy, which helps define the shape of the otherwise black-carapaced creature. It seems very similar to a Zelak, in that it has a four-legged main body and then an upright abdomen with two limbs. "Hell-o," it clacks. "How may I co-corrupt you?"

"Refreshingly direct." Tasha lays a hand on Hakeber's shoulder and leans around to look at her from the side. "Can you handle this?" her ears perk and her brows raise; a serious question.

"That depends," Hakeber says out of the side of her mouth to Tasha. To the shopkeep she asks, "What is the best book for me, and the worst book for me?" She even taps at her head, assuming the insect-being can tell she's got something in her head.

As if the head-tapping was an invitation, the creature's antennae begin feeling over Hakeber's head.

Tasha leans back to give them some space, not expecting the creature to be aggressive. Few shop keepers, after all, stay in business long if they try to eat all their customers. And, Tasha expects this shopkeeper has a greater agenda than simply selling dire wares. In her experience this kind of salesman always has ulterior motives.

Tasha's also very proud of Hakeber for her clever question; she does believe Hakeber can do well in matters like this, she just needs confidence and to rely on her cleverness, which she'll probably tell her later if she doesn't figure it out now, something she expects to happen. At the same time she keeps an eye on the others, not staring, but casually glancing, to make sure no one's doing casual browsing -- or that they are being casually browsed by the merchandise.

Lacci is of course browsing, just not at the books. She's drawn to the wall of bottles and jars, and no compunctions about picking up a candle to a closer look. There's motion in some of the glass jars, and odd shapes, while the bottles seem to having liquids of varying viscosities within. The shopkeep's examination of Hakeber ends, and one clawed hand holds up a massive keychain, with each key looking different. They unclip two keys from it.

Tasha watches Hakeber, keeping her attention split between her and Lacci, who she feels will not be clever enough to maneuver through corruption. Her attention is draw away somewhat when the keys come forward -- there are few things as enticing to an adventurer as mysterious keys that could unlock even more mysterious objects, doors, and therefore, no sights and new prizes.

The glossy claws set the keys on the counter before Hakeber. "Which is which?" she asks. The shopkeep clicks, and replies "The best one is best, the worst one is worst. Up to you to decide."

"Eh, I've dealt with really weird card catalogs before," Hakeber says, and takes the two keys, which she then sniffs.

"How well do you know yourself," Tasha suggests, nodding slowly, "And there's always a trick to it, some way to trip you up. Both ways may not be what you think they are, or your own weakness or need causes problems." She pats Hakeber's shoulder, but holds her back after. "I'll take my turn then we can go look."

Lacci is actually tapping on one of the jars now, but the shopkeep's attention is on Tasha now, at least according to its largest set of eyes.

The red woman hopes the others are smart enough to keep Lacci from opening anything; if not, well, Tasha thinks Lacci could do with a wake up call. Whatever her rivalry with Lacci may be, Tasha maintains concerns about how the seriously the woman takes the dangerous around them. "Alright, for me, I am looking for books on three Colors, in the sense of the King in Yellow-style of Color. I am looking for Red, White, and Pink."

"White and Pink are not Colors," the shopkeep insists. "Red magic though, yes, many tomes and scrolls for that."

"That's valuable to know. I wonder why Samael said Pink is the most dangerous. Perhaps he meant something else?" Tasha tilts her head. "I'd like to browse the Red tomes."

"Ahh, Thoth. That explains why he mentioned it. Yes. Maybe was trying to.. Or.. Well." Tasha pauses, twists her muzzle, then nods. "Yes, I'd like to related Alchemy works and the scroll and tomes about Red -- of both, the ones best suited to me, my need, and my sense of restraint."

"Restraint?" the shopkeep says, and produces a set of handcuffs from under the counter.

"Not that kind. I am aware of my power and the power that corrupts. Perhaps it's better to leave that to me." Gabriel does get a look after, but then she puts her thumb to her nose and sticks her tongue out. After looking back she says, "I'll use Hake's limits. Show me the tomes that are best for me and worst for me; let me know if any tome is both."

Two more keys are slid onto the counter, so it doesn't seem like one will best and worst together.. or both will. "Bring selections here, then I will open the reading room."

"You got it. Thank you." Tasha inclines her head, then she nods to Hakeber that they should go find their books. As she does she looks around to make sure no one's cursed themselves for their curiosity yet.

Lacci has moved on from tapping on things to just staring at the shopkeep. Hakeber begins sniffing the locks, trying to match them to the keys by scent.

Tasha has to wonder if Lacci will have the guts to talk to the entity. She doesn't interfere, at least, not yet. Instead she browses the isles visually, and with her third eye sense: her most relied upon sense and the sense most related to this place. She tries to match the key's color resonance to a lock.

The colors are muted on everything, although that could be a function of the chains and locks themselves. Hakeber pauses at one of the locks, and tries one key and then the other, but they don't work. "Grrr," she growls, and moves on. Lacci does finally approach the counter, and says, "I want a map of the Astral Sea and a history of warfare between the dominant powers."

Tasha is surprised by Lacci's restraint if not her blandness; it's a very practical request with little room for surprises. Or, it would have been in a regular library. Tasha's curious to see what the answer looks like here, but she has her own resources to find, so she looks for similarities between key and lock, and when the key is close, checks to see if the lock and the binding shift to react to the key, to reach out for release.

The keys are definitely different in style, as are the locks. When she tries the first similar pairing she's rewarded by a click and the bolt opening.

"No maps, only navigators," the shopkeep tells Lacci, but does produce a very thick, non-locked-up book for the Vartan. "Warfare is constant, this is first volume."

The unlock is a good reminder that sometimes the simplest answer is the correct one, a warning to not overthink. She collects the item and then continues her search, noting Lacci has somehow managed to get an unlocked book, which is interesting and also very Lacci somehow.

The book feels warm in Tasha's hand, and another clink shows that Hakeber has gotten her first tome as well.

"How's it going Hake?" Tasha knows she made progress, but it's not just progress she's concerned with. She also moves on, still searching, but she does take a moment to pause and get a good look at the book she happens to be holding, not knowing what the various informationals might manifest as.

It has odd symbols on the front, which almost seem grouped to depict a stylized flame. "Reading in reading room only," the shopkeep clacks.

"I've got one of them, thinner than I expected," Hakeber says, having it tucked under one arm as she tries to find the second lock now.

"Maybe it's the digest version, hopefully not literally. Mine's warm and has a flame symbol." In a louder voice she notes, "I'm just looking at the cover!" The tone's more don't-bother-me-I'm-fine teenagery than she expected, but that's one of the things she's had to get used to in this body, looking and sounding younger than she is, as if death shaved off a slice of her being including age and height.

The first and second books are quite far apart, not even in the same shelf racks. This goes for both Hakeber and Tasha's searches. The second finds are a bit heavier as well.

Tasha unlocks hers, then hefts it up, frowning at the book which she strongly suspects might qualify as a tome. "Got mine, heading to the back," she reports, intended for everyone to hear. She does wait long enough for Hakeber to grab her's and then slows so they can both enter the back room together.

Lacci is already waiting for them, looking like she's trying to solve something in head but isn't sure of the what it is.

"Come on warnerdbird, lets see what we've got. With both wings Tasha ushers the two other women to the back room.

The lighting in the reading room is, if anything, darker than the main shop, save for some spot-lights around a circular table that mark where to read the books. The room feels a but small overall as well, with little space to move around in.

"Suitably claustrophobic. You can safely assume there's a memetic or conceptual elements here beyond base architectural, this oppressive, condensing atmosphere is a manifestation of the intent of this shop, of what we're going to read, and the effect intended for us. It's more complicated than that but I can't put it to words better, so just know this is intentional and also a manifestation of the nature of these things." Tasha is the first to sit down after pulling chairs for the other two. "Proceed with caution." She places the smaller book down first, waits for the others to be seated, and then adds, "Try not to look at what the others' are reading. It's not intended for them and we didn't say anything about its effect on other readers."

"So this room lets us read whatever these things are written in, I assume?" Lacci asks. Dust puffs up when she sets her book down.

"Oh, maybe. I suspect the intent is to isolate us from others, and the books from the wider space. Just because that entity peddles in dark wares doesn't mean it's necessarily protected from them, and it's also very possible these tomes are not all on the same team and might.. object to each other. Or compete. Yours seems the least dangerous, Lacci, but that, like everything here, could be designed to fool or otherwise lead you. Treat it like it's dangerous and out to get you." Tasha peers at the fire symbol for a long moment, then announces, "Alright I'm going to open mine. No peaking."

The page that's lit has a symbol on it, and Tasha reads it as Destruction. There's no indication if this is the best or the worst choice for her to be reading.

"Suitably ominous." Tasha then closes the book then slides over the larger of the two works and opens that. "And the second. Feel free to open yours, but if you'd prefer, we can open the one at a time."

This one also has a single symbol as the first page, which translates to Creation.

"Okay." Tasha closes the second. She then slides the two beside each other, plops her head on her left hand, and frowns down at both of them. "I suppose we can review them out loud as long as I don't relate the details or let you look. Judging from the thickness, one's more complicated than the other, or at least more detailed. Which makes sense considering the topics. It is easier to destroy than create. But which is better for me. I mostly engage destruction, but I aslo create. I do both. I could read both, but I wonder if that's allowed, or a conflict."

"We were allowed to bring both books," Hakeber notes. "So I assume we can read both.. or really, browse because we can't possibly read them to.. and I'm a speed-reader."

"Books like these don't necessarily need to be read. Do you think I sat down and read the Necronomicon like it was a Abaddonian newspaper? No, the reading is more.. intimate. Your read them, they read you, and they.. " Tasha swirls a hand in a vague gesture to indicate she's not sure how to describe it, "Dump the information in you by some sort of autonomous essence, be it demonic, or just a manifestation of an idea or a trapped being. If they are like I think they are, even their form is symbolic of what they project, their essence, what they want to be sen as. The Necronomicon is no more a book than I am Lacci."

"So reading both means I might be absorbing their essence. They're really not much for light browing or skimming," Tasha concludes.

The two books sit there in front of Tasha, giving no indication of which one wants to read her.

"And they're being very still, so maybe they're both a trap. They're probably both a trap. Well. I'm not going to help anyone by not deciding. I'll read these, and you can learn from my experience." Tasha decided to do things in order of her life. She started as aggressive, she didn't learn to create until later, to build, and grow. It was through understanding the cost of destruction from both sides she learned the value in making something, so she decides that the same process might help here. Or not. Also, Destruction is a smaller book.

Or that's what she had planned until a thought strikes her; these are two sides of the same coin. You can destroy to create and use creation to destroy. One lead to another and back. Wisdom is learning the balance to both, and how to leverage on to accomplish the other, or to stop them. Favoring one or the other might cripple her, the same way it has in the past. "Change of plans, I'm reading both at once."

Then, in a swift motion, Tasha pushes them and close together and they can be and flips open both books.

Read together, Tasha gathers that Red is the color of life, which is split between creation and destruction. That seems about what she thought. Thus the symbol of the flame to represent the effect of both, and which is the outward presentation of Red, and also of passion. And passion is needed for both creation and destruction as well. This is the surface understanding that wielders of Red use, but there's something deeper as well. But with that comes the risk of exposing oneself to that deeper essence.

Tasha's reaction to this sudden decision is to look ever-more engrossed. Her brows narrow, her ears perk, and her tail begins flicking around in what could be interpreted as agitation, impatience, or perhaps anticipation. She doesn't comment, seeming to engrossed in whatever she's reading. Inwardly, she discovers that something about these books resonates with her. Neither, individually, held as seductive allure, but both somehow calls to her own deeper essence. Passion has guided her so long, it's description here feels like reading about herself, like someone made a spell book derived from her. She knows it's both naive and hubris to assume any such thing, but the strong feeling of resonance remains. More understanding calls to her, or maybe she calls to it. After staring long enough she can't be sure which is which -- and think that maybe there isn't a difference.

As she sits there evaluating, contemplating, weighing, it occurs to her that she's drawn on so much external power, integrated it, or borrowed it. Had it walk beside her. But these tomes may be the first expression of a power than stems from her, without any external manifestation or guide to offer it to her. She came to this, and it was her idea. Perhaps this is what's needed; she can assign investigation of White's alchemy to one of her other selves and between them attempt to locate Pink through the same. Someone, then, must provide Red.

Tasha refuses to dump the responsibility on Vasha, who is just learning her wings. She takes in a breath. "Move away from me. This calls to me. I know how that sounds. I am going to touch on the inner mystery now. If it looks bad, you'll need to get away."

"I very well might." Tasha's tone is dead serious. "Let me know when you're ready. I can wait until you're done reading, too, but it might be difficult. I am.. Holding back. For a moment."

"Mmmm," Hakeber sort of grunts while she's engrossed in her own book. She does sort of scoot her chair to the side though. Lacci is on the other side of the table anyway, so can't really retreat further.

"Right," Tasha says in the tone of someone fighting to pay attention to something other than what she'd rather be paying attention to, "Here I go." She places both hands on the table, flips pages, one taloned hand to one book and one page, and begins reading.

From a great distance, Tasha feels something looking at her, as if weighing her. It makes her feel thin, almost transparent. She's had this happen before, of course, but this time it feels like it's looking for something specific.

Tasha waits patiently. She feels drawn in, but she has experience, and she made her choice with that experience and what knowledge of the risks she possesses.

There's a voice that feels deep, in that it rattles Tasha's spine, even though it only relates a single word: Unkindled.

Tasha doesn't know what this means, only that it seems to be of grave importance to this matter. And as she does not know, she does not speak, assuming the being will inform her, knowing she will ask, or assuming she waits to know. These conversations, from her significant experience, have a meta form, the understanding of beings who have walked these steps many times before.

Now that the conversation has grown to thoughts and consideration, Tasha decides to speak. Or, rather, think. "There is potential, other may kindle it: how, and to what end? What result?"

Flame kindles, it is what flame does, is the reply. The flame is needed to balance creation and destruction.

"I think I see," because Tasha thinks she does, "How will I go about being kindled? What steps are necessary, will any interaction do, or is it more specific?"

Different for each soul, the voice rumbles. But it must be by a flame that is in balance itself. Imbalance leads to.. What follows isn't a description, but an image that Tasha is quick to recognize: the Queen of Demise.

Tasha grimaces, or at least, her essence does. "Yes, lets not do that again. Gabriel, he is in balance. Kai is in balance, with herself." There are others. Persephone, perhaps, who seems both headstrong but also a master of magnificent powers of creation; other dragons further filter through her mind, beings who have lived long and had to balance themselves or else fall apart -- and many wield powers of flame themselves. There are others. "This is the path of greater mystery, then? The one spoken of in the books."

"I see. Should I put aside the lesser powers then, the surface mysteries? Or should I use them to understand, as stepping stones?"

Tasha supposes she could try them out; even imperfect tools and incorrect answers present some form of education, some utility. But, and she must remember, they are just that: imperfect tools, incomplete answers, shards of a greater whole. Perhaps the absence of the rest will help her understand the greater, when the time comes. To understand those who use imperfect tools, should she become one with the greater, and perhaps guide them in turn.

And there is the practical; life, destruction, and fire have their ways, and their tools -- and the tools they make. It is a practical, every day essence, even as it is a greater mystery. Life grows, but it is always a process. Fire needs spark and ignition. Destruction can be as complex as high Wizardry or as simple as a punch ion the face; both are destruction.

The presence sinks back down into the basement of reality, leaving Tasha looking at the pages of the book again.

"Enlightening." Tasha isn't sure how much time has passed, but she knows the major point has been crossed and she has merged from the other side. What remains is not trivial, but it is educational, the mismatched, imperfect pieces offered by lesser mysteries, parts of a whole. Rough stepping stones. She hopes reading about them will help her understand even as she cultivates the greater flame and searches for balance. And when the time comes, she can set down the lesser things, remembering that she sued them, and why, for so she can teach who may follow.

Tasha's still reading, but she seems less engrossed now. Engaged, certainly, but not absorbed. "I finished with the big part, just reading the lesser tidbits now. How'd it go, Hake?" She glances up. "Still alive, Lacci?"

"I'm satisfied," Hakeber claims. Lacci looks up from her book and blinks. "Why wouldn't I be alive? There's nothing dangerous about a history book."

"You might be doomed to repeat it. Of course if you read a history book you're already repeated it, so that saying doesn't make a lot of sense." Tasha finishes up, feeling she's gotten a good grasp in some of the basics. More over, that the basics have grasped her. To do more she'll need time to work on application and use, and of course, she'll want to talk to people of balance. "I'll need practice and reflection, and a lot of work and talk, but I'm satisfied for now. More to do." She closes the books together and stacks one stop the other. "Ready to go?"

"I've gotten the basics," Lacci says, sitting back and closing her book. "Nothing very surprising though, only the methods are new."

"I've learned everywhere has a certain commonality. You can use that to your advantage, in a great many areas of existence such as politics, magic, and warfare. I suspect it's also a root of the Fundamentals and other such universe beings." Tasha picks up her book stack and pushes her chair in. "Let's return these and get going. Katie may explode if we wait longer."

As soon as they leave the chamber, Katie blinks at them and asks, "Is something wrong?"

"Uh-huh," goes Tasha, as if this were a perfectly normal experience. "I'll explain on the way back. Don't you need to pee? I hope that doesn't lead us to an infernal bathroom." As a courtesy Tasha walks back to where she got her books and hand-replaces them, taking the key she was given to re-lock them. "Anyone else want to do some reading before we go?"

"I'm feeling heated up. We should talk more later, I have a lot to learn from you and several others. hake seems pleased, too, and I think Lacci is as well." One the books are back under lock and key Tasha turns in said keys, offering, "Thanks, that was illuminating. I'll recommend your shop to others."

"Where ever you go," Tasha agrees, grinning. She steps aside so Hakeber and the others can do their turn ins and walks back to the others. "I learned a few tricks, hut they're just tricks. To understand the rest, I need to grow."

"Exercise and protein will help with that," Gabriel claims. "Let's get back outside. Something has been bugging me." If the shopkeep takes offence at that, they remain silent.

Tasha nods, waits for the others to finish up, and the she starts outside. Once out she glances to Gabriel and asks, "So what's on your mind?"

"Huh.. it's gone now.. or back," Gabriel says. The alley before them opens up on one of the main avenues, with no sign of the labyrinth. "I noticed it too," Lacci says.

"I did not notice this thing. If you're all going to start commenting in vague and mysterious ways so help me I will-" Tasha stops when the soldiers rush by, and she frowns. At firsts she's about to say she didn't do whatever it is, but then hears confirmation it is indeed not her fault. "An attack?"

"Look up," Shojo says. In the sky above is the burning wreckage of one of the fanciful astral ships.

"The factions all treat this as a neutral location though," Lacci claims. She did learn a bit from her history book.

"I guess that time has ended," Tasha remarks of the flaming ship. Part of her will always hurt to see a ship die, whether it's her's, a stranger's, or even an enemy's. She lays a hand over her heart, but she finds she's not sure who to pray to. "I have mixed feelings about this place, but the Empire doesn't seem much better. We should try to exit; the war may be on the other side as well so be ready. I don't know if one or both or however many sides are involved will see us as friendly or neutral, either, so be ready." Tasha moves to the fore, ushering Hakeber and Lacci back. "Shojo, with me. Gabriel, do you want to cover the rear and direct people?"

"Let me go first," he says. "I might be able to figure out what's going on by watching them. I've go the most military experience."

Tasha nods, shifting to flank Gabriel and cover him. "Lacci, you have the rear. Do you want my pistol?" Tasha draws hers and then offers it over. It's sized for Tasha, of course, but aside from that it's not a light caliber weapon, a testament to Tasha's slightly-above-human-norm strength. "Hake, stay center and use that brain."