2345/Of Course It Was A Card.

Of Course It Was A Card.
Date of Scene:	14 January 2017
Location:	Plot Room #1
Synopsis:	ITT: Clow Reed is a Troll. More pointedly. Lacrima seeks help with Eilam's problem from Mamoru Chiba and Kunzite. Lots of personal things and strangeness gets shared.
Cast of Characters:	Norie Okana, Mamoru Chiba, Kunzite, Eilam Hisakawa, Sakura Kinomoto

---

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima's Manor is a manor somewhere on Eastern Juuban Avenue. It sits off the beaten path. In recent times it was 'that creepy place kids dare other kids to go into because it is totally haunted'. It wasn't. Kind of. There was some sort of guardian demon cat demon Melanite set to guard mode here when Lacrima first arrived months back. It's gone now.

The manor isn't a mansion. It does kind of look more like a mansion owners summer home though. It's has ostentaious rooms like 'a conservatory' but not huge.

Lacrima has taken a deep breath and invited Kunzite and Mamoru over to help Eilam. The path to the door has been shoveled. The once rusted shut iron gate has been replaced with a newer, rust resistant metal door- though that's wide open.

The outside has seen better days. Lacrima isn't restoring the outside until spring comes again.

There is no ill or bad energies leading up to the door. Likewise. It feels like there's something actively /blocking/ such things. You can see chinese tags across the other side of the gate- wards. Jiaying's work.

Lacrima answers the door and welcomes the two in. "Welcome." she says. A pause. "Right. Come in."

The vestibule is a cross between a living room/den and a main little gathering area. There's a couch and a coffee table and two ornate stairs surrounding that that lead onto an upper level. Corridors lead to an east and west wing. There seems to be a sitting room branched off the vestibule. "Upstairs." she says as she starts upstairs.

This places looks straight up like any given manor from a survival horror game if Mamoru has ever touched a game like the original Resident Evil. It's like you can feel the future Zombie/Werewolf/Horrible Abomination ready to bust out the next locked door. Almost.

There's no actual bad feelings here. Lacrima isn't responsible for anything your brain comes up with.

She knocks onto a bedroom door. "Eilam-kun?" she asks. "Are you awake?" which she also means 'Are you Alive?'. She'd been checking in across the day.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The snow's a mixed-feelings thing for Mamoru -- it not snowing that often makes it a breathtakingly pretty thing, even if the traffic is terrible, and those who don't drive (like, say, most of Mamoru's friends) are generally super pleased about it, which means he also gets to enjoy their reactions -- but his most recent experience with snow was last winter, and there was nothing but snow and ice and rock around (and in some parts in) the Dark Kingdom's fortress.

He's not thinking about any of that now, but he does really like his navy blue peacoat, and he takes a somewhat childish joy in snowballing traffic signs on the walk down Juuban Avenue; by the time they're coming up the walk and then on Lacrima's doorstep, the prince is holding Kunzite's hand, fingers laced through fingers. He doesn't look at all nervous on the doorstep, and his smile for Lacrima is real. "Thanks!" he says cheerfully before letting go that hand, allowing Kunzite to precede him inside.

Following through the house, he has to appreciate the aesthetics -- who doesn't like spoopy manor houses? -- and it's a lot easier to do when it's not seething and writhing with dark energy or basically halfway in a pocket dimension, like Nephrite's was. When they come to a half outside Eilam's door and Lacrima knocks, he asks her in a low voice, "Is he averse to me trying to heal him, at least for today?"

Kunzite has posed:
Traffic signs are acceptable targets. Kazuo voiced no argument, whether or not the trip was slowed by the entertainment. Which is probably a good thing, because squabbles in snow tend to leave people in a certain degree of disarray, and it's probably better not to show up at Lacrima's doorstep with frozen hair and melt-soaked shirts. His part in the entire escapade, thus, was largely limited to handing Mamoru the gloves that the throneless prince had yet again forgotten might be useful.

Remembering these things is a fair trade; handholding meant that when Kazuo's step hitched for just a moment at the sight of the tags, Mamoru's momentum carried him on past the point of rediscovery that that kind of ward won't react to him anymore.

On release, Kazuo bows to Lacrima, and steps through the door with a flicker of eyes either side and up. ... as marks every door thereafter, as if it might turn into a survival horror game at any moment. Zombies. Dusk Zone critters. Suddenly animate furnishings. Nullhearts, Takashi model or knockoff. Cranky foxes. One never knows, does one?

He doesn't, of course, say much of anything. ... or anything, minus the 'much of'. But Lacrima's seen him around Mamoru before, so that's not a surprise.

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    For Eilam, today was... a mixed day. He had left earlier in the day with the intention of having a bit of a relaxing morning, and returned about mid-day after a particularly nice dining experience that was almost cut off due to finding himself getting progressively worse as the day went on. It was going to be one of those days after all and he'd wanted to get back to someplace he could stay until hopefully such passed. As such the interior of the room was fairly dim, the pink-haired young fellow having otherwise been laying quietly on the bed within. The coat to his suit and various bits such as shoes belt tie and such were folded over a nearby chair, but otherwise, he had been just laying there.

    At least until he heard someone approaching, then the sound of a knock. Mamoru speaking wasn't something he heard, though his response was something to the effect of, (It is your home) in another language. Spanish specifically, more of an off joke towards Lacrima. To Eilam, he thought she was alone for the time being. Even if stepping inside would reveal him laying on the bed, looking close enough to being a dead body. Still alive, but... close enough to not for all things considered. Probably didn't even have the energy to raise up at the moment.

    And to note if anyone tried to figure out anything about him magically, /he/ was fairly normal, though there was some curse about him. That was trying to drain ambient energy to return him to how he should be. His 'condition'. And something else that seemed to be interrupting that, enveloping him invisibly and siphoning off a fair bit of the curses attempts.

Norie Okana has posed:
The Manor is safe. Theres the feeling of wards. The sense they're meant to keep something inside rather than out. Proection. Just in case.

Lacrima answers Mamoru first. "You'll need to ask him." she says quietly. "But I don't think he'll be averse to it. His condition always degenerates however and it's been degenerating faster than normal due to the situation happening." she says.

Lacrima has seen Kunzite around Mamoru. If she takes offense to the shiftiness she doesn't say anything. Lacrima expects people to be wary of where she lives.

"He said to enter." she says more or less as she opens the door and sighs.

"Eilam-kun." she says. "This is Mamoru Chiba." a hand motion to Mamoru. "And Kazuo Takeba. They have other names. But that is up to them if they choose to tell you them." she says frankly.

"These are the people I asked about help." a pause. "Right." she says turning to the two. "Eilam-kun wants to keep this on the downlow. That is. He doesn't like a lot of people knowing about his condition." she says softly. "At the very least. If you talk to others for help. Let me know so I can inform." she says frankly. She makes sure Eilam can see this be said. It's important to her.

She turns back to Eilam and walks to the bed and sits at the end of it. "Ah. You've gotten worse already. I swore you were sitting up more earlier." she says. There's a hint of worry there. It's subdued.

"Mamoru Chiba would like to try to heal you. Would you please be willing to let him try?" she asks softly. She figures. Her asking, would be much better than Mamoru- a stranger- asking for himself.

Kunzite has posed:
After Lacrima enters the room, Kazuo steps in; bows precisely toward the bed; stations himself to one side of the door, all while she's still talking. Six and a half feet of long bone-white hair and lack of expression. Staying by the door is perhaps the least he can possibly loom; it's entirely possible that when he walks out of the place, anyone who sees it may start new rounds of rumors about it being haunted, solely because clearly no actual living person should look like that.

When he speaks after Lacrima, though, his voice is only calm. Word choice maybe a little out of date in places, five or ten years perhaps. But he tries, at least, for politeness. "Lacrima also expressed concern about possible patterns of energy transfer in your vicinity," he says. "If you are willing to grant permission, I can try to examine the area for anything unusual or untoward. It would be best done in combination with the other help, though, to minimize any chance of side effects."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru comes in after Kazuo, taking his gloves off and pocketing them, unbuttoning his coat as he goes due to the warmth in the house that just caught up with him. He has a much warmer expression, but it's not one that holds any pity or saccharine sympathy; it's just one that takes in data absently as it focuses on the expression and body language -- the humanity -- of the stranger, reading it by reflex. He smiles a little lopsidedly, almost in apology for the stoic demeanor of his companion.

He's a head shorter than the white-haired man, though by the shape of his face, he doesn't look that much younger -- a couple of years, maybe. Late high school. His hair's black, his clothes under the coat are casually classy, and he has the confident and quietly regal bearing and carriage of old royalty; his ocean-colored eyes are simultaneously youthful and ancient; he bows slightly. "If you're curious about other names, you can also call me Endymion if you prefer. It makes no difference to me. He," he gestures back towards Kazuo, "is Kunzite."

He starts approaching, but not too quickly, and one hand's held out in nonthreatening invitation. "Lacrima is right. I'm a healer; it's what I do. If nothing else, I can regenerate your energy and wellness for today, and some of it may even last you through until tomorrow, depending on how quickly you're being drained. I haven't spoken to anyone else but Kunzite about you, but I have some friends in mind that might be able to help in different aspects; one is a diviner, one has the ability to purify, and one specializes in the lifting, containment, or resolution of curses."

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    Upon hearing someone other than Lacrima, Eilam opens his eyes and shifts his head a tiny bit, winding up staring towards the doorway and those present. He wasn't in any shape to really complain or do anything about it, though to Lacrima specifically he seemed to stare a moment before speaking in Japanese, "I did say I... trusted you for this." Even if it worried him. Then to Kunzite he said - not really looking directly at him, "Her home... her choice, for you doing things."

    And that was about all he had to say. If only because he seemed incredibly exhausted. As Mamoru approached, there wouldn't exactly be anything off. Even if he tried to push energy somehow into Eilam or 'heal' him, nothing seemed to happen so long as he was fairly close. Though if he tried from further away he might notice something was vaguely 'around' him in a sense that was slowly leeching energy from around him, rather than him directly. And likewise Kunzite might pick up on something similar. A filter between the coffee and where it ends up as it were.

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima nods at Eilam-kun. "I... trust?" she says. "These two." she says. The word trust doesn't come easy to her. "I'm positive they can figure things out. And. If you let them... bring thier friends next time. I'm sure they can help." she says quietly.

"I can't. Fix this on my own." she says. "As we talked before." she says.

"...and I know. It's important to you. To not let people know..."

"But I also can't be letting you die daily." she says. "Even if you reset. How long until you just start waking up dead everyday?" she says quietly.

She stands up off the edge of the bed and walks around towards the others and hangs back a bit, as not to be in the way or let her dark energy interfere with any readings.

"If. You need anything. Let me know." she says quietly. Things being.. like. Help. Or Donuts. Or her leaving the room. Stuff like that.

"If the wards on the room are interfering..." she motions to the charm tag that's near the tops of the room walls. "Feel free to remove them. They are specifcally meant to keep things like my ambient energy from flooding the place when I get anxious and such." she says. "I can't touch them."

"They burn."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru shakes his head at Lacrima -- on his part, the wards do not interfere. With permission not so much granted as not denied, Endymion completes his approach: his healing requires touch, skin contact, unlike most of the draining effects the people here are familiar with. His understanding of the situation is that Eilam is not injured, or actually sick with any kind of infection, but that he lacks energy and is continually drained of it -- so the energy replenishment is what he focuses on primarily.

His hand comes to rest on Eilam's forehead, warm and gentle and vital, with the care and manner of, say, a parent estimating the temperature of a child's fever. The instant there's contact, a faint and shining gold aura appears concentrated around that hand, and any physical aches and minor injuries or bodily stresses disappear, as do the effects of the disease Eilam had been dying of (however temporarily -- they will probably return first for poor Eilam, as they're easy enough for the curse to re-inflict in its search for homeostasis). A warmth spreads through Eilam, bone deep and comforting, and the sensation of home--

--not any house or place, but the safety and warming comfort of an ideal early childhood and being tucked into bed with a fire in the hearth to keep away the darkness and the cold--

--suffuses the experience. There's a sense of connection to every living thing under the sun, to the heartbeat of the Earth itself, to the lakes and rivers, mountains and meadows and forests primeval. A welling of overflowing energy fills Eilam's cup, keeping it full only so long as the contact remains and continues to pour it...

And then Endymion steps back, removing his hand and letting the glow fade (more quickly than usual, but that's not something he notices). He has an apologetic expression on his face. "I hadn't realized how quickly..." he starts, then falters; he draws back his shoulders and continues after a breath, "It won't last until tomorrow. It might last an hour. I'm sorry. At least it's a little relief, for a little while, I hope."

Kunzite has posed:
"Thank you for the warning," Kazuo says quietly aside to Lacrima, when she mentions the wards. And then, as Mamoru approaches, Kazuo changes. It's more subtle than most of Tokyo's magical transformations; a crackle of shadow and not-quite-lightning across his skin, a momentary gleam of reflected light from something at his forehead that is there neither before or after. It leaves him in what has to be a uniform, vaguely military despite the white cape -- vaguely military, but accompanied by no weapons.

He lifts his hands only a few inches from where they are at his sides, and at no time does he make any movement of them directly toward either Lacrima or Eilam. The little gesture has a result, though. A faint wave of dimness, a hint of shadow, washes outward through the room, keeping itself contained -- away from the walls, below the level of the charm tags, a little bubble of normal light around Lacrima; Eilam and Mamoru might notice the temperature dropping half a degree or so, but Mamoru's contact with Eilam more than counterbalances the infinitesimal drain of Kunzite's power as he watches.

And when Endymion steps back, Kunzite angles a hand a little, and a like bubble springs up around Eilam. Insulation against his taking any of that just-given energy.

"You're right," Kunzite says to Lacrima, without clarifying what she's right against. "If you don't object, I'm going to take a little of a further look."

And unless she protests, he turns his own hand over, and brings it up, and manifests ... not quite a faint glow. A tiny crackle of lightning across his palm. Almost lightning. Its color changes based on the angle it's watched from: sometimes white, sometimes a pale cool violet, but most often a delicate, warm pink entirely at odds with the metal-gray uniform and metal-gray eyes. He paces through the shadowed part of the room without other explanation, here near Eilam's bed, here at the farthest part of the room from it, here venturing out the door for a moment with hs shadows still chasing him.

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    Feeling anything of that sort was... well, new to Eilam. He didn't know these things, wasn't used to these types of magic. Draining or !draining or whatever it happened to be just had him confused. Though the sensation of clarity that came along with feeling... not alone for once in forever left him uncertain what to think. Warmth, really. And not feeling like he was too weak to move. While Eilam hardly hopped up to dance around, he did open his eyes and raise an arm to look at his hand, once Mamoru had stepped back.

    "This feeling, what is... it?" He even started to push himself up, the confusion showing on his face.

    Those who could sense energy or magic could possibly tell something about /him/ was off. The curse about him was suddenly starting to get a bit more active, realizing something was abnormal. It wasn't going crazy and trying to cram him back into a state of crappiness but it was starting to leak out the energy well that Mamoru had pushed into him at a relatively higher pace than his own energy had been leaving.

    Which also meant that Kunzite was probably going to start realizing that the closer he got to Eilam, and by product Mamoru's energy, his own would start to wobble around like a plasma globe. Then something that all of them would probably experience began to happen. There was a pulse before the world they could see just seemed to shift. Something was wrong. There was no malevolence, no sinister plans, it was almost like someone had just... dimmed the lights. All of the lights. Everyone would find themselves alone, though. At least... alone, and elsewhere. But where were they and what did they see?

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    For Mamoru, it wasn't exactly a single scene, a single instance. He would find himself standing in the middle of the woods. Strange conifers, if he was familiar with various biology things, these types of trees were native primarily towards the European areas. Mountains in the background, hills, birds and other noises. Just off in the middle of nowhere. Middle of the day, the sun was high, quite cool, one could really just smell the spring in the air. Except nearby he could almost see, feel Kunzite. Perhaps a flicker of Eilam or Lacrima here or there. Somehow they were still... near, but weren't.

    Distorted. The color was slightly off somehow. A bit grayer. The sound of a horse walking on the ground, the clop of hooves stepping over fallen branches and such. People talking, a middle-aged man and woman who were driving a cart that the horse was pulling arguing among themselves before the horse was turned about and the man stopped it, getting out and walking around towards the back. The woman seemed sad, but resigned, whereas he seemed somewhat muted of emotions. What came next might surprise Mamoru. Someone who looked incredibly like Eilam was lifted from the cart, wrapped in some kind of blanket, and dropped onto the ground. There was a rather soft grunt from the young man, the older male taking off his shirt and throwing it on the ground nearby, a bit of blood from the younger males mouth having gotten onto it. And then he got back into the cart and prodded the Horse into carrying on, the woman letting out a soft sound that was not quite a sob but close enough. And Eilam?

    Well, he just laid on the ground, gasping for breath, looking like he was in quite a lot of pain and not in good shape at all.

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    Kunzite would find himself inside of a somewhat rustic, albeit elegant home of sorts. The smell of fresh bread, perfumed fabrics, the soft mumbling of slightly fearful voices. And nearby a rather tired-looking Eilam, dressed in a fine, expensive suit that was of an early 1900's style. He walked towards the door using a stave before one of the servants there opened it and a group of soldiers were standing outside, one officer and several German rank and file looking rather like they were on duty.
    They started to speak with him, asking him something, before he shook his head. The officer seemed angry before Eilam stepped forward and said something else, at which point the others that were nearby inside the house fell silent and just watched. There was a moment of silence between the Officer of the group and Eilam before he pointed into the house and made it seem like whatever Eilam had said was to be ignored. Except the respnose from Eilam took him by surprise, knocking against him with his stave and pushing him back, grasping it and twisting the walking aid to reveal a shiny metal estoc that he grabbed and started to draw only for a gunshot to ring out, Eilam crumpling as the officer had drawn and fired straight at Eilam. Screams, surprise and those inside turned to run further in, only as the officer started to step forward, he paused and let out an equally pained sound as he found the estoc stuck through his side. The group of soldiers quickly turned on Eilam and knocked him away, Officer making his way back to the vehicle outside and Eilam being dragged off with them, driving off leaving the scared folks in the home. Left behind the stave in two pieces and the weapon, and signs of the scuffle.

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    Lacrima, being further away that she was, probably wouldn't see nearly as much as the others. She might see bits and pieces, but something she saw the most? Was Eilam sitting on a couch, smiling at someone. He seemed tired, but happy, the one he was staring at? A beautiful young woman in her late teens who seemed upset. A conversation between the two, in the home they were in, only for the door to open and a group of men to step inside and quickly grab for Eilam. He didn't really seem to have the ability to fight back, and as such was lifted and dragged off as she turned and seemed apprehensive about it all. Outside if Lacrima looked, she might see various people gathered, things like pitchforks and torches and the likes.
    At which point she steps forward, pulls a ring off of her finger and lets it fall onto the floor of the house. A ring that Lacrima would probably recognize. After all, it's the same one Eilam had given to her.

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima blinks a bit and watches as Eilam reacts and she steps forward because she's afraid something is terribly wrong. She pauses as she finds herself in a different setting. She does seem momentarily confused by this- but not as confused as one should be. She's had this happen before. It's every dream she has when she dreams about the weilder of the last power.

But this isn't the manor. She is not in a manor of a spanish castle. She is in an area and she is looking into an old house. Is that Eilam? Who is that she's talking to?

What is happening? She blinks and she moves to act upon the pichfork crowd with a hard frown.... then....

She is suddenly walking onto the backstage of Seiyou's auditorium. Which causes her to pause again.

Others may also find themselves here. It's odd.

--------------

It is backstage in Seiyou. Everyone is in leotards and skirts and it looks like there is dance practice going on. EVERYONE looks worried. "Ugh I can't believe the show is next week." says one of the girls. "I'm about ready to melt into a puddle of worry." she claims.

"Oh come on it can't be that bad! We'll do great!" says Norie Okana. Norie's voice sounds a lot different than it does in her current state. There's inflection. There's emotion. There's hope. She's /smiling/ about it. She even bounces on her tip toes. "We've practiced all month! We've hit every beat!" she says.

"Yeah I guess you're right Norie-chan. My mom's taking me out to get a bracelet to wear while I dance. She says it'd look pretty." says the girl. Another girl nods. "Yeah my dad's getting me a necklace!" Norie head tilts. "Jewelry....huh?" she asks.

It didn't sound important to her. But...

--------------

It was Norie's Birthday not long ago and her wallet had Yen in it. She is in fact, walking out. Trying to figure out how she's going to spend that cash. She is looking at her cellphone. It is an older model. "Maybe I should replace this one..." she says. "Then I can play Pokemon GO! When it comes out!" she says. "Oh.. erm. That new. Game comes out next week..." nrg. "...but nii-san would just steal it forever from me." she rolls her eyes.

She walks past a window and then stops and backtracks and places her nose to the glass.

A necklace. Red ruby, with a teardrop shape, with an elaborate Italian-style chain. Looking old but pretty. It is priced very well-- Norie seems surprised it's still in the window! It doesn't seem to en-trance her. Or do anything untoward to make her buy it- But she does seem to admire it in the way young girls admire pretty jewelry-- which may aswell BE a trance at times.

"Well. I didn't think about something secondhand!" she says. "I can buy that, look good for the show with everyone else and STILL have enough left over for a decent phone." she says to herself.

She walks into the shop. She buys the necklace. Nothing bad happens.

--------------

Norie wakes up. "Ugh so glad to be home. And fine. And not in a stupid hospital" she mutters to herself. There's something familiar about her voice now. Her looks. Purple hair and eyes. She doesn't seem to notice. She rubs her eyes then lowers her hands as she seems to recoil from the touch. "Ugh. Cold! Fricken.. what is it, like thirty degrees in here." she says with arms wrapped around herself a moment.

She gets up. She is wearing PJs with bunnies on them and she walks in front of her vanity to brush her hair and she blinks and suddenly leans forward. Purple hair... purple eyes that pale complexion. This is not her. It catches her by surprise. It obviously does. Her vision blurs.

Why does she feel so hungry. Hungry. Hunger. She holds her hands to the side of her head. What's wrong. Why is this happening. This is a nightmare. Right? Her brother knocks on the door. "Late getting up again, cupcake!" says her brother. "G- go away!" says Lacrima in a panic.

"Ugh. I'm coming in there and digging you out of the cupcake mines."

"No!"

He opens the door. There is a look of surprise. There is a sudden flash. He is on the floor. Lacrima looks like Norie again. She is looking down at her hands. She is shaking...

"M...MOM!"

Norie Okana has posed:
--------------

"Norie-chan are you okay?" asks the girl as she follows Norie to her locker. "I'm fine." says Norie with an annoyed tone. "Quit asking."

"But..." says the voice. "Look... everyone says. You put Alica into the hospital. When you fought her. You've never fought before! Is-- is there problems at home?" she asks. "Y..you can tell. The counselors! or even Tsukasa-sensei himself! I bet..."

"/I SAID I'M FINE/." yells Norie turning around to face the girl who jumps back and swallows wide eyed. She takes two steps back and then just. Leaves quickly in another direction.

Noire just watches. When she is out of sight she just collapses against the wall and begins crying. Her tears are tinted purple. She hates this.

--------------

"OPEN HEART!" yells the pink figure above. A wave of sparkling purple clashes down into Lacrima's location and it engulfs her. It burns. it causes her to smoke. There is an inhuman screech from the location.

She's never felt this before.

She's never felt purification before.

The world shifts and melts away into an unnatural landscape of black and rocky mounain landscape of an area of the dusk zone- and she collapses down to the rocky ground you appear over- the ground some awful sickly orange color clay. She digs her hand into it and begins to absorb the awful energies around her. Pieces of her are missing. Black ichor leaks onto the ground below.

"Not human..." she mutters into a defeated tone to herself.

"Not human."

"Not human."

She repeats. Like some sort of awful mantra to herself.

--------------

She is in Seiyou's Auditorium. She is waiting for someone.

"She isn't showing." she says to herself.

"Sorry I'm late!" says a hurried Natsumi Masumoto.

She is here. Norie looks surprised. It seems to be a genuine one. Norie helps her onto the stage. She turns on a radio. They seem to go through a dance routine. It is obvious that she is teaching Natsumi how to dance. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four. Her foot only gets stepped on a small bit and Norie only seems slightly frustrated at it.

"There is. A ball. Soon. At the Augusta. My.... boss." Riventon. "Got me some tickets. Would you like. To try dancing there?" she asks. This doesn't seem hard for her to ask.

Natsumi seems to take the question differently. She leans forward. And she gives Norie a kiss on the lips.

The look on Norie's face is one of complete and utter surprise and confusion and blush all at once.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The energy draining at Endymion's power still feels like what he's giving, even if it goes a little faster than he'd anticipated, and therefore ends up taking more than he'd bargained for-- but that's not marked as abnormal, given he knew going in that it was going to be terribly inefficient. So he starts to answer Eilam with a small, bright, wry little smile. "--it's the ground beneath your feet, is all--"

...and then he feels pulled away, and it's disconcerting, because he's not pulled away from Earth or, indeed, this dimension, and then everything's dark but nothing hurts, particularly, and his balance is off a little. That's when he starts seeing things. Pieces of other lives--

--but then, there's what everyone else sees of his.

@};--',--'-,--

It's the brightest day, sunny and clear and vividly colorful in a way that no modern air or sky or grass is, and there's music playing in the background, lively and strange, on instruments utterly unfamiliar. Each of the people mixed up in this strange set of jaunts will find themselves in a party of people making their way through an open-air market within the outside walls of a castle's grounds, high on a hill, with sharply clear mountains in the distance. The market itself is loud, half-drowning out the music, and stunningly beautiful fabric and jewelry and trinkets are on sale, books and tools and curiosities, alongside food carts and farmers' stalls selling the fruit of the earth.

There's a dark-skinned boy of about ten years with raven-black hair and familiar ocean-blue eyes, dressed in fine embroidered silk and summerweight wool and linen, brightly colored and embroidered in gold; he's laughing, holding the hand of a younger-than-now Kunzite, who looks -- aside from age -- roughly the same, even wearing the same uniform. The party includes three other boys, closer in age to the young High Prince, wearing uniforms nearly identical to Kunzite's; they're all within about five feet of the two and clearly have their attention split between minding the prince, watching for danger, and poking with interest at the things for sale and the entertainers.

@};--',--'-,--

It's dark and chilly, and the young prince is older now-- nearly the age that Kunzite was in the market scene. He's in a jacket and cape now himself, although they're his own colors -- navy blue, gold, and the cape red and black -- rather than the colors of his guard. He stands in a garden, leaning against a tree and looking up at the full moon -- larger, closer than it is now -- and seems to be alone. In the next moment, an ethereal girl, white and silver and glowing from within with the moon's soft light, fades into being at the treeline. Her diaphanous gown and long silver-white hair seem almost weightless, and the only thing brighter than she is is the golden moon shining from her brow. She smiles wide in delight when she sees Endymion, and runs into his opened arms; he lets out a teasing 'oof!' at the impact and mock-wobbles, and she giggles.

Her laughter is like crystal bells.

@};--',--'-,--

It's dark and bone-chillingly cold, and it's clearly Mamoru Chiba standing there in the same uniform the prince wore a second ago, but there's no expression on his face and there's a dead blankness behind his eyes, rust red instead of oceanic blue. He's walking down a corridor made of twisting, luminous stone that looks organic, stone that moves; a bright-haired youth who bears a remarkable resemblance to one of the boy guardians in the first scene keeps him company, silently floating along a few steps behind him, looking grim and ill at ease. Everything here feels malevolent and wrong, a different flavor from the Dusk Zone itself. They turn a corner and it changes again--

@};--',--'-,--

Mamoru Chiba's sitting in a faculty office, some time a few years back, maybe fourteen or fifteen. He looks serious and reserved, and a teacher turns around and sits down across from him. "Well, Chiba-kun, your high school entrance exams were perfect, but you will have to join the choir in your first year to make up for the past two. I understand the difficulties of the transition from boyhood to adolescence, but part of the curriculum does involve actually singing, not just scoring very high on the theory tests..."

Mamoru looks grim. So grim.

Kunzite has posed:
Home. That's the thought that echoes -- the place that Eilam was torn from, in the moment that echoed to Kunzite most strongly. Home, and from Lacrima, family --

-----

The cramped little kitchen is blandly anonymous, standard design without personal touches, not so much as a stray magnet or a paper pinned up or a piece of fruit left out in reach. Kazuo is perhaps eight or nine -- an age when the last faint traces of baby fat should still be rounding his face and arms. He's not tall, yet, and the muscle isn't present to broaden his frame; what he is is rail-thin, white hair cut short in an anonymously business like fashion, jaw tight and eyes narrow with an open bitterness. The school uniform he's wearing gives no hint of the year.

The man looking down at him is in his thirties, perhaps, black suit and white shirt and matching conservative haircut. He radiates disapproval without needing to frown. "Again," he says. "You know how much we needed to stay on their good side."

"There wasn't a good side to stay on," Kazuo says.

"Your aunt was only willing to watch you as long as you stayed out of trouble."

"I didn't get in trouble. I didn't hit them." It's a statement of fact, not a protest, not a complaint.

"So you say. Like you said you hadn't started the fight when you put Takuya in the hospital. And both he and Kenta said you came after them. After one of your ... attacks."

The boy shrugs; his expression is distant at best. "They lie. All of them lie. Takuya and Kenta taught them they could get away with it."

"You will not accuse your cousins of lying." The man folds his arms. "You will not fight with your cousins. That should be easier now, since none of your aunts and uncles are still willing to look after you. The only people still willing to deal with you are your mother's parents. So you'll have to go to them."

For the first time, that makes an impact. "No," Kazuo says, flat denial. "I need to stay in Tokyo. It gets worse when we go away."

"Doctor Murai doesn't believe your attacks are real to begin with."

Gray eyes harden, too cold for a child's face. "Doctor Murai's wrong. I need to stay. Why do I need someone to look after me, anyway? When I was little it made sense. But they haven't wanted to be anywhere near me since it started. I do everything for myself. I could just come home and it'd be the same."

"And if you have a seizure while you're alone?"

"What's the worst that happens?" the boy counters. "You don't have to figure out how to take care of me anymore."

The adult takes a half-step back, sharply, and recovers only a moment later. "You'll keep your grades up," he says. "Or you'll go to stay with your mother's parents after all."

The boy shrugs again, no more concerned than he was the first time, and turns away to swarm up a chair and onto the kitchen counter, balancing there o his knees without looking back as he reaches up to take down a container and start measuring rice out of it. After a few moments, the man walks away.

-----

He is seventeen, and the kitchen hasn't changed, but crawling up on the counter now might risk hitting his head on the ceiling. He's built that muscle long since, lean and strong, callused hands and runner's build. The man he was arguing with before is older, too. His expression tight, and worn around the edges. Kazuo's, if anything, angrier -- the mask of politeness over a barely-hidden simmering rage. That, more than the clothing he wears, marks him apart from the vision of the castle -- he was seventeen then, too.

"Your friend," the man says, "Tsujihara. You will not see him again."

Kazuo's hands find the edge of the counter behind him, tightening, not releasing. "May I know why not?" he inquires, phrasing calculatedly formal, etiquette on the verge of becoming a weapon in itself.

"He will not be returning to school this term. You will not see him when he does. If he does. Juvenile sentences are shorter, but you may have left school by the time he is released, and in any case your school is likely not to accept his return."

"Ah," Kazuo says. "I see." Nothing more than that.

The man presses, "Did you know what he did?"

Kazuo's eyes half-lid; he has no other reaction. "Everyone knew what he did," he says. "Everyone who wanted to. He wasn't careful. I didn't have anything to do with it. If that's what you're asking."

The man doesn't answer; his eyes narrow in return.

Kazuo's shrug hasn't changed appreciably since he was a child. "If you don't believe me, look through my things again. But I'd be an idiot to try anything that might interact with my meds. I remember our deal; I can stay as long as my grades stay up. So."

"Then we're amending the deal," the man says. "I have enough trouble at work from having a crazy son. It's too late for you never to have known Tsujihara. But you do not attempt to see him. You do not attempt to contact him. You stay away from people like him. You keep your reputation as clean as it can still get. Do you understand."

Kazuo is still for a moment, then inclines his head the barest fraction. "Through university."

"Through university. After that, you can damn yourself on your own."

-----

It's a different kitchen, this time, even smaller: crammed into one corner of a single cramped room. There is space for a desk. If one sits on the bed to work at it. And, if one is Kazuo's height, ducks one's head to avoid hitting it on the shelves.

Sitting on the other end of the bed still leaves half the kitchen in reach, too.

He settles cross-legged, studying the hand-addressed envelope he's carrying. Reaches for a knife left out on the desk and slits it open. Skims the formal openings and finds the important part. "There is something you have been looking for for a very long time. I can help you find it."

"You and fifteen other fortune-tellers every week," he says down to the letter. "Try again." Leaning and reaching far enough turns the burner on, but after he lights the thing on fire, he has to actually get to his feet to drop it in the sink.

The envelope, though ... that slips to the floor, sliding silently half-under the desk.

Sakura Kinomoto has posed:
Reality began to shatter around them. Cracks formed in space as if the universe itself was cracking. Pain would begin to flow through their bodies as the power draining them began to amplify. To painful levels. Whatever this was, it was beginning to spiral out of control.

And then, just as suddenly, it wasn't. A sound like a bell went off and then a magical circle appeared around them. Kun and Mamo would recognize it likely, as it was the same magical circle that formed whenever Sakura used the cards. Except, this time, it was far stronger. That power that flowed from the cards normally? It was amplified greatly. After a moment, the figure would appear.

He didn't look old, at all. In fact, he had the face of a father, looking almost simple and weak, with glasses and an almost delicate frame. The robes that appeared on him and the great sun and moon staff in his hand seemed almost silly.

Except, they could feel it, most likely. That power. It was tremendous, the kind of power that, if it was around today, would have drawn youma and so many other things for miles. Mamo would probably like it, though. It was the power of the sun and moon, combined into one person. He smiled gently to them before... respectfully, he bowed. "Ah. Your highness, a pleasure to meet you at last," he said, before lifting his wand. The cracks in time and space that had formed began to close. He looked around the void for a moment, before turning to them once again.

"I'm sure you all must have so many questions and... I will try to answer those I can. Please, allow me to take you to a vantage point more suitable for our guests." And then they disappeared, only to reappear over a great castle, high in the sky, overlooking a city of crystal...

"My name is Clow Reed. I'm sure, if you are here, then that must mean my chosen protege is well on her path." He then glanced around. "Though, I do wish you would be more gentle with the cards. Giving her so much untapped power can't be good for the poor child. Even... this brief connection shouldn't be something she's used for."

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima suddenly. A void. Suddenly. Cracks. She blinks once as Mamoru's and Kunzite's visions flash across her eyes and she takes this in. A man appears. He does. Things. This man is not familiar to her. At all.

"Nrg. That's. Some pressure." she mutters. "Magical...pressure." she says. She actually needs the moment to adjust. She takes a deep breath.

"You. Who are you?" she says almost accusingly. "Is this /your/ doing?" she asks.

She of course means 'hurting Eilam'.

She might do something stupid if he says yes. Someone may want to pre-empt this.

She doesn't address all the personal things that just washed across everyone's face. Not yet.

In a moment.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
More flashback than you can shake a stick at, and all tangled, like falling into a people pile with Daisuke and Usagi two summers ago and getting psychic backlash (should that be whiplash, though?) from Mamoru's psychometry all mixed up together from everyone. Endymion's reeling, and he has to buffer all the additional information; he has no time to react to it, because he can feel that massive increase in draining going on outside the perception moments in other lives and he can feel it ripping at Kunzite and he loses his temper.

Reality is cracking around them and the prince -- now dressed in his armored henshin, the prince from the flashbacks -- doesn't care; his rage is a bright and hot thing, lashing out protectively against whatever is chewing on them. He moves on instinctive locational knowledge of his guardian as he dives to catch Kunzite before he hits the nothingness-floor.

The drain is still going, still going, and down on one knee, Endymion's gripping Kunzite in one arm while his other hand's up holding the side of the man's face, glowing fiercely bright gold and pouring more power into the sieve--

--and reality stops breaking, landing them... here.

At least the drain's stopped, and Endymion can finish, filling Kunzite's reserve back to capacity in a terrified, hyper-adrenalized jolt. But nothing continues to attack them, and he can start breathing normally, and someone's talking to them.

Sitting back on one heel, Prince Endymion keeps his arm behind Kunzite's back unless and until the white-haired Shitennou gets up, but he looks up and over at Clow.

He blinks.

"I-- Reed-san, then, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, especially since you stopped that." And... they're suddenly overlooking a crystal city, one that... wait. There were images he saw in Chibiusa's head so many months ago, the same week Lacrima initially attached him, and the layout-- the pattern of the city is the same. It's just... whole. Mamoru gets a cold feeling in his gut, but he presses on.

"Cards--? Oh. Your protege. Oh. Look, none of us had any idea a card was involved, we just came over to help Eilam here, and I went to heal him. I didn't intentionally give a card anything. But thank you for letting us know, we can call Sakura now. Which I sort of think is kind of a big priority? No offense but we need to go home and get her."

Kunzite has posed:
Having the face of a father is not necessarily the way to win the heart of everyone present. In that sense, it's almost fortunate that the card latched on to Kunzite. There wasn't time or concentration available, with those flashbacks, for him to even try to resist ... and his energy reserves are, at their lowest levels, tangled with his own life energy. Endymion's intervention is valuable. But coming back up from that moment of pain-into-unconsciousness still takes a moment; his heart has less than a year's experience at beating, it's not entirely sure for a second or two what it should really be doing.

It figures it out. More successfully by far than the last time Endymion caught him as he fell.

Kunzite pushes himself up at least to a sitting position as soon as he can do it without risking passing out a second time. "Of course it was a card," he mutters, almost under his breath. Almost. "Someone getting hurt in anomalous fashion without apparent cause. Of course it was a card."

It's entirely possible that he might think that not having actually setting any of the cards on fire yet should count as sufficiently gentle.

Eilam Hisakawa has posed:
    As for Eilam? The entire thing was... a bit more upsetting for him than perhaps others. For a strange reason. His privacy is /absolute/, he values it above almost all else. Keeping information to himself, being able to control everything. Having that control taken away, possibly, others seeing /his/ past? /His/ memories? Secrets? Even when they were all transported to Clow, Eilam could be seen seated, knees hugged to his chest and just quietly staring off at nothing, hair having fell forward and pooled around his form to make it hard to see much of his expression.
    A bit of a silent panic, as it were. He wasn't freaking out visibly, but he was certainly tense, unsure what to do or what was going on, or how much more of everyones past was going to be shared.

    How much of his.

Sakura Kinomoto has posed:
Clow nodded. "Indeed. I'm afraid many things are my doing." He'd walk forward and... place a hand on Lacrima's head. "But do not try anything fool hardy, Norie. You still have a long, and difficult road ahead of you. The string of redemption still lies within your grasp... but it will be one you'll have to fight long, hard and painfully in order to achieve. I am sorry. I would take this burden from you if I was capable," he said. And his voice was soft and caring, like a father's.

His eyes turned to Mamo. "Yes. Every day the young child's star grows a little stronger. A little more ready for the burden it will one day have to bear." He paused. "Though... it will not be able to do it alone. She will require all of the aid she can get, just as you will one day require her aid."

He paused and glanced to Mamoru. "I... would request that you avoid fueling cards in the future, at least until they are in card form. Once the child has more control over them, I am sure your abilities will be as invaluable as they always have been."

She then gave a light chuckle. "And yes. I do suppose it is always a card. I must admit when I first created them, I hadn't realized how... interesting the future would become."

Finally, he moved to and kneel down, gazing Eilam in the eyes. "And I am sorry for what you have endured and... what you will yet have to endure. Your journey is far from at its end, so you must remain strong as you always have."

He turned his back to them, lifting his wand to the heavens. "Yes, bringing the child to him may yet end his suffering... but I am afraid you will need to wait. If you bring her now... the child will soon need all the help she can get. And it would be best for all those involved if you were to keep this little talk between us. Telling the child will only put her in greater peril than she already is."

The twelve point circle formed under them again and they began to fade out, the room slowly beginning to appear around them...

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima blinks at Clow Reed and she squints and she's about to say something to that. 'What do you know!?' and so on--- when he moves over to Eilam and----

They're back in the room. Did they even leave? Was that just a vision.

She gets a moment of reflection as she looks over to Mamoru. Then over to Kunzite and then back to Eilam.

She walks toward's Eilam and frowns a bit lowly and gets onto her knees like she did when he lowered himself to her level the other day then could not get up.

"We know what the problem is now." she says curtly. She tries very hard to blot the stuff she seen of herself. It's one thing to remember how you were before, but another to re-experience it again. It's clearly making her tense in some manner.

She'll handle it later.

She gently scooches a little forward and frowns. "I'm sorry. I know you like to keep things to yourself. I won't ask about it. Maybe. Later. Though. When we're alone?" she asks quietly.
"If. You feel. You want to." she says.

"Do you feel.. physically...? A little better than before?" she asks.

She looks back to the others. "I'm..sorry. For that." she says.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
They get back and Mamoru is tired, and he drops his henshin as he stands up, offering Kunzite a hand up off the floor. He glances toward Lacrima and Eilam and says, gentle and full of quiet decorum, "I suspect we won't be able to do anything more until the card is dealt with, and I'm truly sorry for that. We'll find out whatever is going on with Sakura and then assemble people to help; if you'd like it to take place elsewhere, it's up to you, and we can attempt to hide the fact that the card's attached itself to you, Eilam-san. Lacrima, please let us know where you'd like it to happen once you've figured that out. For now, I expect the two of us should take our leave."

Kunzite has posed:
Perhaps if you truly wanted people to avoid fueling cards, you would have considered making it possible to recognize their effects -- -- but they're out of the (place? time? vision?) before Kunzite can finish considering a way to phrase that idea without using language that would be highly inappropriate in front of a lady. (Of course Lacrima counts.)

He accepts Mamoru's hand up instead -- there's no uniform now, no cape; those were gone, in fact, sometime before the appearance of Clow Reed. Everyday clothing. Winter coat, black. "I'm sorry," he says quietly to Lacrima, "that one of those things is complicating both of your lives. Somewhat pleased that it isn't one of the more physically destructive ones. Rather more pleased that there is a prospect of it being gone soon. But all of them are more trouble than they're worth."

He bows toward Lacrima and Eilam again, and withdraws alongside Mamoru as soon as the possibility of doing so politely is open.

Norie Okana has posed:
Lacrima softly looks to Kunzite and Mamoru and frowns. "I'm...sorry. For that. I don't know. How private you keep things. I will. Not ask. I think it's between you two only." she says quietly.

She says nothing about hers.

"Thank you for your help. As for where it takes place. Here is fine. This is not only my place and I am sure Jiaying would be upset if I didn't offer to let her help." she says quietly.

"The basement has been more warded and protected than the rest of the manor. We will do it there. It's where I keep my coffin." she says. Yes she sleeps in a coffin. Look. Some Vampire sterotypes are true. :<.

"Eilam-Kun I will be right back. It's polite to show people out in one's place." she says softly.

She will do just that. Leading them back to the main door.

Zombies and/or werewolves and/or a cranky green foxgirl do not attack.