Welcome to Gaia! ::

I had an amazing time today. First Corvus healed my wound and then I got a magic lesson! And afterwards, Djerod went back to his lessons! Emi didn't have such a good day... I know because after it all, I went to my area, which is now above her computer, and she was really upset.

I thought she was invincible... she always seemed that way. But apparently her writing isn't good enough for something. Maybe I should have said something... I know how that feels. But she was busy talking to some other people, and after a while she seemed to be feeling better...

Still, I feel kind of bad that she's the human I'm bonded to and we don't really do anything together. So tomorrow I'll think of something to do for her. I know she wanted a new pet really badly, so I'll find one for her. I might need some money. Maybe I should talk to Corvus about it. And I don't know what to get her at all. She likes mice and rats. Maybe Djerod will know of something, perhaps from another planet?

I think the reason I ended up with Emi was because of something to do with pets... but I'm tired now, so I'm going to go to bed.

Corvus left. I don’t know why. No one seems to know why, or if they do know, they’re not telling me. I was going to ask him if we could go to the shop together, but he’s gone, and they say they don’t know when he’ll be back.

I don’t understand. Djerod says there’s nothing to understand, that these things just happen sometimes. I just don’t see how that’s possible, especially after he explained causality to me all those weeks ago. There must be something that triggered Corvus to leave. I wish I knew what it was.

Emi is gone, too, only there’s this other girl who looks and sounds almost like Emi. Her voice is a bit higher, and her hair different, and she behaves differently, but she’s almost exactly like Emi and apparently her name is Emiko. I’m confused, as I thought that was Emi’s name, too, and that she just had a lot of names. Djerod explained to me that in alternate realities, there are alternate Ems, and this was one of them. Only this Emiko said she was better than Emi. I don’t see how. She’s not as smart. That was easy to tell. She just smiles a lot and says nice things. The real Emi isn’t an airhead like this person. She didn’t know anything about phase matrices or subatomic particles. I asked her about them, trying to find out how she might be dimensionally different from the real Emi, but she didn’t have an answer. The real Emi would have gone into subatomic particle quantum phase shifts and universe implosion theory. This one just asked if I wanted chicken or shrimp Thai food for dinner.

I don’t understand at all.

As the door to the closet was always kept ajar, Simon had a good idea of everything that went on in the living room. It was actually not a whole lot, but on this particular day, something was up, and Simon knew it.

For starters, Emiko was purposefully avoiding the closet and hurrying about in a sneaky manner. She seemed unable to simply walk past his door today, dashing or darting instead, as if fearful she might be seen and scrutinized by the juvenile fairy.

Then there were the whispered conversations, always just a little too far away to make out the words. From the kitchen, the sunroom office, the office proper, the other side of the entertainment center, the stairwell: everyone was talking about something and no one wanted Simon to hear.

Simon merely scowled and did his best to ignore it all, but was wary. He couldn’t help but to keep one eye on the patch of floor in front of his closet abode and one ear open to the air. His curiosity drove him to distraction at even the slightest hint of a clue.

He had a feeling he knew what was up. They were probably planning to go somewhere and didn’t want him to know. “Hey, let’s go to Busch Gardens, but don’t let the fairy in the closet hear, we wouldn’t want him to come with us. It’ll be his punishment for refusing to come out.”

That thought hurt Simon the most. Inwardly, he seethed, “I’ll come out when you all show me I’m loved, but that’s not going to happen, because it’s pretty clear I’m not.” For days he had been sitting in the closet, ignored. Only the occasional word of pity from Emiko, which he did not want, or an insult from Rikard, which he did not need. No Djerod, no Max, and, of course, no Corvus and no Em. The real Em.

Only apparently “the real Em” wasn’t the real Em at all and Simon was beginning to think the secrets they kept from him were some sort of cruel joke. “Let’s not tell Simon, see if maybe he guesses, or just doesn’t get it. Ha ha!”

Of course, there were the frequent attempts at interaction from the pets in the shelves below, but those did not count. A bunch of simpering followers, that’s all those pets were. Better they stay where they were.

Not that the assorted Pixapets and Tarpeia had been trying lately anyway. He could hear their daily interactions: Aorta, Tarpeia, and Colin playing games, Griswald telling stories, the whole group enjoying a fish or plate of food given to them by Emiko. It made him sick. The lying pets. They didn’t really need him at all. In fact, they seemed perfectly happy to live their lives without him, grooming and playing with one another, sleeping and eating, learning and laughing...

Scowling, Simon turned the page of the book he was reading and tried to ignore it all. The more he tried to do so, the less he was able to ignore. He soon became riveted by a word game Griswald had initiated in the group.

“Albacore.”

“Elephant!”

“Pterodactyl!”

“Alas, no, Colin, ‘pterodactyl’ starts with a p,” corrected Griswald.

Simon became so caught up in being angry at the game he totally didn’t realize the appearance of a guest until it was too late. Suddenly sensing something on the air, he jerked his head up and whirled to look down into the doorway.

It was her. The fake. The imposter. The enemy who had started it all.

“Simon!” she greeted cheerily, fake smile plastered across her face. Simon narrowed his eyes at the human below him and frowned. She ignored it, continuing, “I’ve brought some new friends for you! Kancho told me you’d had an interest in breeding your Pixapets, but you didn’t have any females? Well, I stopped by the store and coincidentally enough,” she brought up her hand from behind her back, holding up a small carton with air holes, “I ran into these!”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat and he swallowed. How could Djerod have told her something like that!? It was true, he’d been very interested in seeing how Pixapet genetics might work, but that wasn’t something she needed to know, and now he was expected to stoop to accepting her charity?

Wounded pride or academic curiosity. A furious battle raged in his mind as he tried to decide what to do. “Fine,” he said at last, “put them with the rest.”

“Someone new?” chirped Colin from below.

Emiko bit her lip a moment, upset that the meeting had not gone as well as she might have hoped, but at least her gifts were accepted. Kancho had told her female Pixapets were the one thing Simon wanted the most. She put on her nicest smile as she addressed Colin and the others. “A few new friends, actually!” Opening the carton, she placed her hand inside and removed it a moment later, three Pixapets sitting there. “This is Scylla, a Sheepdog, and Noska and Edwards, jaguars.”

Simon quickly hid his excitement at the announcement of not one but two wildcats. While the offspring would be predictable if the two jaguars were bred with each other, they were rare finds.

Scylla bowed her head respectfully to the assembled Pixapets, stepping off Emiko’s hand and onto the shelf. Behind her, the male jaguar, Edwards, growled under his breath at the female before they followed Scylla and joined the rest of the menagerie, albeit warily..

“Wow! This is great!” exclaimed Colin, bouncing around. “I’m Colin and this is Aorta and Tarpeia and Griswald!”

“Woof,” agreed Aorta, who had never been one for conversation, particularly with strangers.

“I hope you’ll all get along with each other!” smiled Emiko at the miniature pets. She looked back up to the top shelf. “I guess you can do that breeding now, right?”

Simon scowled slightly, but nodded. “Thank you,” he said in a sullen voice.

“It was nothing, really. I’m just glad I was able to get you something you like.” She continued standing there, smiling vapidly at him.

It took Simon a moment to realize she wasn’t leaving. He leaned back on his shelf until she was out of sight to hide the flush on his cheeks. What more could she possibly want? His dinner order? He’d said thank you, that was more than enough. He peeked over the edge of the shelf and just as quickly withdrew. She was still smiling up at his shelf. It was quickly starting to creep him out.

“Can-- can I help you?” he managed, keeping out of sight.

“You remind me of my husband, Kuni,” she informed him.

Since there was no way of knowing what she meant by that, he kept silent.

“He’s very quiet and introverted, too,” she continued, “and it took me a long time to become his trusted friend. In the end, though, it was worth it.”

Was she going to stand there and talk until he told her to go away? Wondered Simon.

Apparently so. “I bet you’re the same in that way, too. I’m sure you’re a very worthwhile person to have as a friend. Am I right?”

How was he supposed to answer something like that? If he said yes, he was conceited, and if he said no, she would probably find that an impetus to continue the conversation, offering encouragement and reassurance that he was indeed worthwhile.

So, of course, he kept quiet.

After a moment, she said, “Is there anything I can do for you Simon? Anything at all? Just ask! I’ll do my best.”

He bit his lower lip, debating. “Could you--” he began, then stopped himself quickly and darted back into the depths of the shelf. “Never mind.”

“What?” she asked quickly, obviously eager to be of service.

Simon wrung his hands together. “Nothing.”

“Surely it’s not nothing. C’mon, tell me! Really!”

From back here, nearly to the back wall of the closet, Simon couldn’t see the imposter, he could only hear her voice. The voice was what really got to him the most. It was so absolutely exactly the same... “I was just wondering,” he tried again, “about that song.”

“A song? Oh? Which one?”

Hidden out of sight, no one could see the furious flush spreading down his neck to his shoulders, the nervous twitching of his wings, or the shudder of his chest. “Yuh-You Are My Sunshine?”

Her hands clapped together merrily. “Would you like me to sing it for you, then?”

“Yes.” He seated himself in the farthest, darkest corner of the shelf and closed his eyes.

She took a breath and began to sing, plainly and simply, but with honesty and kindness in her voice. She sang through all the verses she could remember to a rapt audience spread across two closet shelves and when the final tones of her song lingered on the air no longer, she bowed her head just as if she were performing in front of an audience at Carnegie Hall.

“Is there anything else?” she inquired of the uppermost shelf, but there was no reply. With a sigh, she smiled at the Pixapets and Tarpeia and ducked out of the closet. That really had gone better than she hoped.

Up in that deepest, darkest closet corner, curled into a tiny ball, Simon stared bleakly at the barely visible pockmarks in the plaster ceiling. Of all the people in the Household, it seemed she was in actuality the only one who cared, and he wasn’t sure if he should be joyous or melancholy at the realization.

Yasha tensed as she hit the 'portal', expecting a certain amount of disorientation. She clutched the package she was carrying tighter to her chest, and looked around curiously once she was on the other side.

It appeared to be a perfectly average house in a perfectly average neighborhood. She was presently on the front porch, looking at the house’s white vinyl siding. There was a small front yard with two Japanese maples, an ivy-covered archway at the end of the front walk, and a strawberry plant spilling over the side of an ornamental cement planter. A white carpet of clouds covered the sky, hiding the sun. The front door was a few human-sized steps away.

Still keeping a wary eye out for anything odd, Yasha approached the door. She looked for the button that Shinobu had told her many houses had, that would ring a bell inside the house to let the owner know there was someone at the door. There didn't seem to be one, however. Shrugging, she flew up to the knocker, shifted her packaged so she could grip it with one hand, and lifted the knocker before letting it drop down again.

Thanks to her enhanced senses, Yasha could easily make out the sound of movement on the other side. “Door,” said someone. Another replied (rather groggily), “You get it. I got it last time.” A third voice, female, said something too muffled to overhear and laughed.

One of the three speakers moved to the door, clearly audible thanks to creaky floorboards. There was a pause, then the door opened. It was an elderly man holding a cup of coffee and looking half-asleep. He blinked at Yasha once and took a sip of coffee.

"Hello," she said politely, keeping her expression blank so as to give nothing away. "I'm looking for Simon. I was told I should be able to find him here."

The man startled at that, choking on his coffee. “Careful, Djerod,” called the other man from the nearby dining room, raising a cup of coffee in a mocking toast. “I’d so hate for you to expire before I’ve had the chance to kill you.” The woman he was standing next to sighed and shook her head.

“Shut up, Max,” growled Djerod, then, to Yasha, “I’m sorry, but Simon isn’t taking visitors.”

A brief flash of concern crossed Yasha's face before she managed to get her emotions back under control. She really needed to work on that. "Is he ill, then? I hadn't seen him in quite some time, and he's been missing our study sessions."

“No, he’s--”

“OHAYOOOOUUUU GOZAIMAAAAAASU!” came a sudden yell. Djerod cringed slightly as something sounding heavy pounded down the stairs and leapt into sight from behind the door. “Ohayou! We have a guest?”

With her wireframe glasses, lopsided grin, and bright blue eyes, she bore a strong physical resemblance to the feien shopkeeper, only the flowery sundress she wore combined with the highlighting in her hair and light makeup on her face made the resemblance merely unsettling to those acquainted with Emperial.

Djerod wiped at a bit of coffee that had spilled over the edge of the mug. “A feien,” he stated simply.

Startled, Yasha flew back a few inches, staring at the new arrival. Ye gods, she's as bad as Tosten... "Good morning, ma'am. I'm here to see Simon."

“Oh! Are you a friend of his? My gosh, I was beginning to think he didn’t have any!” the girl exclaimed. “I’m Emiko, pleased to meet you!” She hooked Djerod’s arm in her own, practically hanging off him. “Alas, Kancho, you’re being a bad host! Please, please, come in! Can we get you anything?”

"No, thank you, I'm fine," Yasha demured, flying in the door. "Is Simon ill? He hasn't come for any study sessions, and I haven't seen him in the shop in some time."

“Oh, he’s fine! I’ll go get him for you!” She released her captive and skipped over to a nearby closet. “Simon? Are you awake yet?”

Djerod took once final look at Yasha, mumbled, “If you’ll excuse me,” and returned to the company of the coffee group in the other room.

Emiko was having a little bit of trouble with the closet situation. “Simunnn?” she whined into the closet’s depths.

Curious, Yasha drifted closer. Why was the woman talking to a closet? Actually, on second thought, she supposed a closet shelf might make a relatively good home for a feien. Though if Simon was an air feien, she'd have half expected him to dislike such a closed in, airless space.

The only things visible were two shelves full of gryphon and Pixapets. One of the Pixapets, a white cat in a black scarf, complained, “He’s not awake yet. Neither are we. Do you mind?”

“But he has a guest!” squealed Emiko.

The Pixacat hung his head. It was like arguing with a wooden board. He padded forward two steps til he was at the edge of his shelf and leaned over. “Tarpeia?”

The Chalcedony Gryphon on the shelf below was desperately trying to pretend not to hear any of this, but she was in reality wide awake. “Mrrehk,” went the gryphon.

“It’ll be just another moment!” Emiko informed Yasha.

Yasha blinked. "I didn't intend to wake him," she said, slightly chagrined. She often forgot that not everyone got up with the dawn, as she did. "I thought it would be late enough that he'd be up." She debated just leaving the package and a message, but... no. She wanted to see with her own eyes that Simon was all right before she left.

“Well, he really should be up! Morning is the best time of day, don’t you think?” she beamed so brightly it was nearly blinding.

Shifting around in the closet, the gryphon finally rose to her task. Small, strong claws gripped the wood door frame and she climbed up to the top shelf. Further observation revealed many more such claw marks from similar trips.

The top shelf seemed to be a repository for books. The gryphon took careful not of this, squirming between the books to rouse her master. What resulted were sleepy mumblings at first, and then a sudden cry of pain. It sounded like Simon.

Yasha's eyes narrowed when she heard that, and she zipped up to the closet door, completely ignoring the human. "Simon?" she called, loud enough for him to hear her. "It's Yasha. Are you all right? Do you need help?"

“Nyaaaah, I wanna sleep!” went Simon. “Go ‘waaaay, Tarpeia... huh? Yasha?”

She relaxed a bit when she realized he wasn't truly in any pain. "Yes, I came to see you. I'm sorry for waking you, I thought it would be late enough that you'd be up."

“I’ll leave you two kids alone,” offered Emiko, running off to go have breakfast.

“Yasha?” he said again, clambering onto his gryphon. He had, of course, forgotten his glasses. “Aw, crap.” He squinted down at the shelf. “Tar--”

The gryphon leaned down and picked up the glasses in her beak, nearly unseating Simon in the process, then held out the glasses to the female feien.

Shifting the package into one arm again, Yasha flew forward and accepted them, then offered them to Simon in turn. "Here," she said, studying him surreptitiously. There didn't seem to be any sign of injury, and if he was sick he wasn't showing it, except perhaps that he was a little pale. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks."

“I was,” he started, but stopped when he realized how stupid his explanation would sound. Sitting in a closet waiting for someone to come. “I was busy.”

"Ah." She wasn't disappointed, Yasha told herself firmly. After all, it wasn't as if their study sessions had been set in stone. "I became concerned, so I asked San how to get here and came to see if you were all right," she said simply. She glanced down at the package in her arms, then held it out to him like an offering. "I also wanted to give you this."

He didn’t particularly like lying to her. It left a queasy feeling in his stomach. He took the package in both hands and looked down at it. Rice paper with his name in ink and a “This Side Up” warning. Careful to heed it, he gently eased the rice paper open.

Inside was a small tray full of silver glitter from the shop, with several pebbles scattered over the surface and a wooden rake. "It's a Zen garden," she explained. "There's a booklet underneath that explains how to set it up and rake the sand in the right patterns. I find them very soothing. I used the glitter because I couldn't find any sand of the right consistency. It seems to work just as well."

“Thank you.” He picked up one of the stones. It felt cooling in his hand. “Um.”

She wilted a bit internally at his somewhat less than enthusiastic response, but let no sign of her dismay cross her features. Well, honestly, it's not as if you expected him to squeal over it like a little child, did you? she chided herself. "I know it's not the sort of thing you're interested in, per se," she said diffidently, "but you'd expressed an interest in learning more about Zen in exchange for teaching me about science, and this seemed as good a place as any to start."

“Thank you,” he said again. “And, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

"For what?" She tilted her head, and shrugged. "If you've been busy, that's understandable. Now that I know you're all right, I won't interrupt you again. If you have free time and would like to try our study sessions again, you know where to find me."

“Of course.” He balanced the garden on his lap and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Thank you for coming by.”

"It was good to see you again," she replied with a nod. Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, she turned to fly back to the closet door, once again telling herself firmly that she had no reason to feel disappointed. The Zen masters really did have the right idea - feelings were nothing more than a burden holding her to this world. Now, if only she could manage to master their teachings so she could let go of said emotions. At the closet door, she couldn't resist turning to look back. "Simon... I'm still looking forward to studying with you. I hope you have some free time soon."

“I’m not doing anything right now,” he said, more than a little dazed.

She paused in the middle of turning to leave, and looked back at him once more. That had certainly sounded like a dismissal, just a moment ago. Really, dealing with other people could be so confusing some times. how could she predict their actions and reactions when they were so often irrational and illogical? "Oh? Would you like to study now, then?"

He finally seemed to wake up. “Really?” he exclaimed, leaning forward so far he nearly tipped over the Zen garden. “You’ll stay?”

She gave him an odd look. "I wouldn't have come to see you if I didn't want to spend time with you, Simon," she pointed out reasonably. "I thought you wanted me to go."

“I thought you wanted to go!” He picked up the garden, slid off Tarpeia, and placed the gift safely on the shelf. He started to say something, then thought the better of it and closed his mouth quickly.

"Usually when people say 'thank you for coming by' after being somewhat unresponsive throughout the conversation, it's an indication that the visitor isn't particularly welcome," Yasha pointed out dryly, floating slowly back over towards him.

“But I thought you were leaving anyway!” he protested, starting to blush.

She stayed silent for a moment, then chuckled softly. "All right, apparently we were talking at cross-purposes," she concluded. "I don't have anywhere to be, and I came to see you. So, if you're not asking me to leave, I'm certainly willing to stay."

“That’s fantastic! Here, um, you can sit down.” He gestured to indicate the stacks of books. Aside from them, his shelf was bare.

She found a spot and settled into Lotus, tilting her head at him curiously. "Is this your space? I admit I'm surprised to find you in a spot like this. I'd have expected you to be somewhere more open."

“No, I like it in here. It’s nice and dark.” That was a truly odd comment coming from an air feien. Simon sat down next to her, draping himself in a more careless manner, one arm resting on his knee, his other leg stretched out before him.

"Really? How strange." Yasha shrugged. To each their own. Personally she already felt stifled in here, so deep inside a house and in a small room surrounded by dead wood. The only nearby life was her, Simon and the other pets. Perhaps he'd picked it up from Corvus? Wasn't Corvus a darkness feien? "Well, as long as you're happy. I can certainly see you've got a good start on a book collection."

“What, this? No, this stuff is all crap.” He reached behind him and punched the nearest book for emphasis. “Emiko keeps bringing these books up here and I can’t stop her.”

"Hmm? Why?" Yasha asked, curious. "What are they?" She took a moment to actually study the titles, and discovered that they weren't the science textbooks she'd been expecting.

“Just juvenile fiction titles. Her favorite kind of book, apparently. All I did was say I wanted something to read.” He scowled and shuddered. “They make good spitball material, though.”

Yasha glanced up automatically, and saw the results of his target practice. "So I see," she said dryly. "Couldn't you just go get your own books?"

“No,” he said stubbornly.

"Ah..." Yasha was somewhat taken aback by his tone. "Why not?"

“Because.”

If she'd had eyebrows, she'd have raised one at him. "That's an unusually illogical answer coming from you," she observed. "Would you care to elaborate, or must start guessing?"

He went suddenly cross, cheeks puffing with annoyance. “No.”

"Really." She studied him, took into account the look on his face, the paleness of his skin, and his refusal to explain why he couldn't just go to get himself a book... and came to a conclusion that astounded her. "Simon, are you sulking in here?" she asked, her surprise making her voice rise in tone slightly.

“So what if I am?” he blurted out, crossing his arms and staring at some invisible point on the floor. “I have a right to, you know. And I can do what I want.”

She just looked at him, torn between amazement and dismay. What utterly childish behaviour! And here she'd come to think of him as someone more reasonable than the immature feien she'd met before him, like Tosten and Saffron. "I see. Of course, you can do whatever you like. Your life is your own, after all. I simply fail to see the appeal of such a course of action, or what you think it might accomplish."

“Well, I proved my point, didn’t I?” he asked, eyes flashing. “I’ve been up here for, oh, at least two weeks now, and not a one of them has bothered to come get me. That’s proof enough to confirm my hypothesis, so I guess one could consider this a successful,” he hissed the word furiously, “experiment.”

"Not one of whom, Simon?" Yasha asked, keeping her tone level and soothing. Whatever it was he was sulking over, obviously it affected him a great deal.

“Corvus, Em, Djerod -- not a single one of them.” He waved his hand dismissively.

"Perhaps they thought you wanted to be left alone, and were respecting your wishes?" she pointed out. "It's a fair assumption to make, when someone withdraws like this. And you just said Emiko had been bringing you these books, so she's obviously not ignoring you."

“She’s the problem!” shouted Simon, surprising even himself (which wasn’t hard to do). “I hate her! She’s so-- so fake. Everything she does, so cheery and flowery. She’s nothing like Em!”

Yasha had to take a moment to sort through that before it made some semblance of sense to her. "Emiko is not the same person as Emi, then, I take it?"

“Of course not,” huffed Simon. “Emi is smart and funny and brutally honest. She knows tons of neat stuff, like stellar classification and etymology. She doesn’t care about looks and clothes and entertainment news. She doesn’t spend all her time shopping and showering. She’s about a million times better than that Emiko person.”

"All right. So you don't like her. That still leaves the possibility that the others have left you alone because it seemed to be what you wanted, Simon," Yasha replied.

“No, they just left me alone,” said Simon, they up and left. No warning and no goodbye. How am I supposed to feel about that? Except Djerod. He just ignores me. Would it kill him to check up on my? But no, the only one who checks up on me is that insufferable Emiko. I barely even know her.”

"Wait. Let me see if I understand this correctly," Yasha said. "Emi and Corvus aren't here? They left abruptly, and with no warning?"

He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Gone.”

"Then don't you think it might be more important to find out what happened to them, and why, before you jump to conclusions?" Yasha narrowed her eyes at him. "If it was that abrupt, what makes you certain it was entirely voluntary?"

“Because, it -was- voluntary. It was Emi’s decision. I overheard as much. Besides, she’d already thwarted one kidnapping attempt, so there’s no reason to think she couldn’t have thwarted another. Nobody ever made Emperial do anything she didn’t want to.” He seemed certain about that, if nothing else.

Yasha closed her eyes, torn between laughing and snorting. In the end she managed to do neither, containing herself properly. "Simon. If there's already been one kidnapping attempt, who's to say there wasn't another while she was away? Perhaps she had every intention of returning immediately, so she didn't bother to say goodbye. Shinobu certainly doesn't go around informing all his pets and companions every time he leaves the house. And no one is invulnerable, no matter how powerful they are."

Simon remained unwilling to budge on the idea. “Well, Corvus went with her, and he’s near invulnerable.”

Yasha decided it was time to try a different tactic. "You said you 'overheard' the information. Did you actually ask anyone outright to tell you what was going on? Who was it that you overheard?"

“Everyone. Djerod. Max. Fett. And some people I don’t know. But Djerod was the one who was there when she left. She’d made all sorts of plans for her departure and everything, sealing up portals and sending Emiko here to take her place.” He snorted. “Fat lot of good she is.” He was slowly calming down a bit, settling back against the spine of one of the thicker books.

"So you weren't here when she left?" Yasha pressed. "How long did she spend making these plans? Perhaps it was an emergency situation and she couldn't wait until you got back to explain things?"

And, of course, the calmness disappeared instantly. “I was right downstairs! I hadn’t gone anywhere! All she had to do was go down a flight of stairs to find me! And Corvus, too -- he was just on the back porch. He could have come inside or told me if he felt like it.”

Yasha remained outwardly unmoved by the emotional outburst, but inwardly she was sighing. "So have you asked anyone to explain the situation to you?"

“What’s left to be explained?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

Merciful Buddha save me from those who let their emotions rule their lives... "Let's find out," she replied calmly, standing and flying towards the closet door. Hoping he would follow her, but not really expecting him to, she went in search of the people she'd seen and spoken to earlier. One of them had been referred to as 'Djerod', and another as 'Max', so they might have the answers she was looking for.

“W-wait!” pleaded Simon, but did in fact follow. He glanced back at the closet just long enough to note that he was being watched by a bevy of eavesdropping Pixapets. “Yasha!”

Her lips curved upwards slightly in a smile as she heard him following her, but she didn't turn back. Clearly there was quite a lot of miscommunication happening around Simon lately, and she intended to see if she could repair any of it.

The closest targets were, of course, the coffee-drinking humans, who had retired to the main living room couch. Or rather, couches, as someone had separated a teal-colored L-shaped leather couch into two parts. The didn’t seem to notice the approaching feien.

“I was actually hoping we’d get to Arlmorosi III today,” the woman was saying. “I hear they have lovely mineral baths.”

“I’m not going into any mineral bath,” huffed the man beside her.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” she smiled coyly.

"Excuse me," Yasha interrupted them as she flew into the room. "I don't mean to be rude, but could either of you possibly answer a couple of questions for me?" She hovered there, waiting patiently.

“Yes?” The one who answered was in fact the man sitting across from the other two, the same man who had answered the front door earlier. He sat his coffee mug down on an endtable.

“Yasha, no!” hissed Simon, nearly colliding into her from behind.

"Why not?" Yasha asked, turning to Simon. "Do you want to know the truth, or are you going to continue to behave like a scientist who tries to force the evidence to fit his pet theory, and refuses to be willing to form new theories based on all available evidence?

“Yes, Simon, which is it to be?” asked the elderly man, folding his hands.

The man on the opposite couch started to stand. “Well, I think me and Sally will just--”

“Sit down, General,” said the elderly man coldly. “Simon, I believe you have been asked a question?”

“I, uh,” choked out Simon, shaking in the air. He tried to swallow but his throat seemed to be stuck. “I don’t...” He looked helplessly at Yasha.

"I can't make this decision for you, Simon," she told him, in a more gentle tone than she'd been using thus far. "It must be your choice to open your mind to the possibilities, or it won't matter what they tell you, you'll only hear what you want to hear."

“I’m not close-minded,” he protested weakly.

The man sighed, shook his head, and looked at Yasha. “s there something I can help you with, at least?”

"I was hoping you could give us a full explanation of exactly what happened to Corvus and Emi, sir," she said respectfully. "Simon's rendition is somewhat lacking in details."

“If only I could,” he sighed, and picked up his coffee again. “I’m afraid I don’t have any information as to her whereabouts. She covered her tracks too well.” He frowned and sipped his drink. “Is there some sort of a problem I should know about?”

"Not that I'm aware of," Yasha said. "Really, I'm trying to find out why she might have left so abruptly, not so much where she might be now."

“Who knows?” scowled the General. “You should have raised that girl with more of an iron grip, Djerod.”

“Yes, I saw how well that worked for you,” said Djerod.

“Sir!” objected the woman, Sally. She narrowed her eyes.

Djerod settled back into the plush leather. “My apologies, Max. That was an unfair blow. To answer your question, Emperilu’s reasonings have and shall always be a mystery to the rest of the universe. Let me think, now.” He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “She said the Tanaka effect and cataclysmic fate redirection were insufficient to win, that she needed a third element. She mentioned collecting a few souls. Beyond that, nothing.”

"Does any of that mean anything to you?" Yasha asked, turning to look at Simon quizzically. Whatever the 'Tanaka effect' and 'cataclysmic fate redirection' were, they hadn't been covered in the high school science texts she'd been studying.

“Cataclysmic fate redirection,” began Simon, “is a basic concept of interdimensionality. A being, or soul of a being, wills something strongly enough, and through that sheer force of will brings about the event they wish for. It’s considered cataclysmic because it often causes rips in the fabric of the universe and is brought about by a highly stressful situation, such a near-death experience. Desperation lends a temporary increase to the individual’s drive to unlock hidden reserves of power, and the release of the power alters fate, or at the very least moves them from one dimension to another, destroying the first in the process.”

“Indeed,” said Djerod, and took another sip of coffee. Sally smiled at the young feien encouragingly, much to her husband’s chagrin.

"All right," Yasha said. "You're the scientist - tell me what tentative conclusions you can draw from the information you've just been given." She waited to see if he would interpret the facts to fit his preconceived theory, or if he would actually approach the matter with an open mind.

Simon blinked twice. “Uh, I’d guess she’s looking for power, since cataclysmic fate redirection is one of her powers. I don’t know what the Tanaka effect is, though.” He looked at Djerod.

“It’s psychological in nature,” answered the man smoothly. “Simply put, a life devoid of strife will be devoid of joy. In order to achieve the greatest things in life, we must endure the worst, and the worse a situation is, the greater the reward. Or perhaps it can mean simply that we cannot appreciate joy without pain. The person after which it’s named, Tanaka, has lived a life devoid of great struggles, and thusly devoid of great joy.”

"So what does that lead you to speculate?" Yasha prompted Simon patiently. She had her own theories at this point, but spelling them out for him would accomplish nothing except telling him what she thought might be the case. He had to come to the realizations on his own, or they were worthless.

“That she’s attempting to cause herself pain to gain power,” he trailed off, staring at the floor.

Apparently he was going to make her pull the answers out of him one at a time. "And? For what possible reasons might she be doing something like that? Especially on that sort of scale?"

“I don’t expect Simon knows,” interrupted Djerod. He finished off the last of his coffee. “We don’t like to involve the children in our battles.”

“Maybe to go back home?” Simon managed.

The silenced Djerod rather quickly, he looked to Max and Sally. “You don’t think?”

“Impossible,” huffed Max.

Sally cupped her mug in her hands. “It does seem highly unlikely. If she were, what would be the need to cut us out? We’ve been working on that problem together for years now. I can’t see the need for any secrecy in the matter.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” chided Max. “And you, don’t stick your nose where children don’t belong.” The general had a face that lent itself easily to angry glares. He glared now.

Yasha simply stared back at him, unruffled. Her white eyes and lack of eyebrows made her face as suited to a blank expression as his was to an angry one. "How else is one supposed to learn and grow except by seeking out the truth for oneself?" Turning her back on him quite deliberately, she addressed Simon again. "At the very least, you've now learned that they have no more idea why Emi left than you do, so they're not deliberately keeping you out of the loop. Except possibly in the matter of these 'battles', wherein it seems they're attempting to protect you more than anything. Correct?"

Simon looked down at the floor, face red. “I guess. I’ll go back now.” He pointed at the closet and began to float away.

“Good riddance,” grumbled the general.

“Max!” said Djerod, clearly exasperated.

Yasha let a little sigh escape her. This was just getting silly. "Simon!" she called after him. "Now why are you retreating back into seclusion?" She flew after him, but slowly, so that he'd have to turn and look at her.

“You should just let him go,” said Djerod from behind her.

Yasha paused, and looked back at the elderly man. "Probably," she admitted. "But I can be stubborn too, when I set my mind to it. And I'm not the sort of person who will willingly walk away from a distressed friend. Thank you for your help, sir." She took off after Simon once more.

Simon had found his way back to his beloved top shelf, or despised top shelf, if you wanted to pin down his feelings about it more precisely. He started pushing and tugging the books around, trying to ignore the rest of the world.

Yasha entered the closet, but remained near the door, watching silently for a moment. "If you want me to leave, I will," she finally said softly. "But I hope you're still willing to talk to me."

Simon grunted, a sound he had never made before, and walked towards Yasha a moment, as if he might speak to her. Then he put his hands on a pile of books and pushed. Two of the three books fell over.

For once, Yasha was at a total loss for what to do. If he was taking out his anger on the books, it was probably best to let him wind himself down before talking to him again. But she wasn't entirely certain that was what he was doing. She finally elected to stay where she was, just watching him calmly, waiting for him to say something.

He did, finally, but not until another four books were on the floor. “There wasn’t any point to asking,” he said stubbornly, refusing to make eye contact.

"No? None at all?" she asked, still speaking softly. She didn't try to force the eye contact - he'd look at her when he was ready, and not before.

“I already know I don’t belong here,” he said coldly. “These people don’t even like me one bit.”

"What makes you say that?" she asked, blinking. "I'll grant you that the 'Max' person obviously doesn't like much of anyone. But what of the others?"

“Ahem, they left!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “That’s not a very encouraging sign.”

"So." Yasha's voice contained a hint of sadness. "You've chosen to keep your mind closed, then. I wish I could help you, but you won't here anything I say anymore than you did what they said. However," she looked at him pointedly. "I will not leave you. Not unless you tell me to. And you're welcome in my home anytime you feel the need to get away from here." If there was one thing she would not do, it was abandon a friend. Overly-emotional or not.

Finally, he looked at her. “Like now, maybe?” he asked timidly. Not that he expected her to agree -- this had not been a good morning so far. He hated mornings.

"If you like," she agreed readily. Well, perhaps distance would give him some perspective on the problem. Having her harp on the subject wasn't going to do anything but irritate him; if he couldn't see what was in front of him, well, there was only so much she could do to fix that.

He bit his lip to keep from smiling exuberantly. “Okay, then let’s go. I don’t have anything I’d possibly want to carry, so I’m ready now.”

"Are you at least going to tell them you're leaving, so they don't end up worrying about you as well as Emi?" she asked, moving back out of the closet again.

He drifted lazily after her. “No. They won’t worry. I think.” He pushed at his glasses.

"Simon." Her voice turned slightly disapproving. "Don't you think it would be a bit hypocritcal of you to leave without telling anyone or saying goodbye? Considering why you are upset enough to be leaving?"

His nose wrinkled. “It’s fair.”

"At the risk of sounding like a flying cliche, 'two wrongs do not make a right'," Yasha told him. " 'Punishing' someone for doing something to you by doing exactly the same thing in return is childish. Especially since the people in question aren't even the ones who committed the act in the first place."

He crossed his arms. “So then you agree with Max. I’m a child now.” One eyebrow shot up in amusement.

"We're both children," she pointed out. "I never denied that. I simply asked him how he expected us to grow without trying to learn. But that's not what I meant. There's a difference between being a child, and being childish."

“Pfft,” he huffed, “I don’t like them and they don’t like me either. But fine, if you insist I’ll leave a note.”

That works," she agreed placidly. "Go ahead and do that, then, and then we can go home."

He quickly turned away to hide another smile and zipped back up to his shelf. With a bit of effort, he managed to tear out the blank page from the back of one of the books and produced a quill and ink. He settled down to write. He seemed to be putting a great deal of detail into the note; he went on for quite a few lines, quill scribbling over the thin paper rapidly.

Yasha had a pretty good idea of what sort of note he might be writing, but she chose not to say anything, or try to see it. He was leaving a note, that was enough. She daren't push him too far, or he'd start to see her as a source of irritation, rather than a shelter.

After a few more lines, the manifesto was finished. Simon finished it off with a large scribble of his name and stood. “Okay. I wrote a note.” His brow furrowed as he looked at it. “Uh...”

Yasha's lips twitched, but she didn't laugh or even really smile. "Is there a problem?" she asked innocently.

“Um, well...” He picked up the corner of his note. “I can’t read my own writing for some reason.”

No wonder. The note he had spent so much time producing looked to be a series of random swirls, squiggles, dots, circles, and lines. It didn’t look like a note so much as a child’s drawing of a field of grass, and that was being kind. Simon turned his head to the side, trying to find some sort of recognizable letter form.

Yasha stared at it, turning her head this way and that, trying to make sense of it. "I know you told me your handwriting was bad when I asked to borrow your science notes," she said, a thread of amusement in her voice, "but this is bordering on the ridiculous. Perhaps you should just tell them where you're going?"

“No! I’ll try again.”

Djerod just happened to be walking by at that moment with the empty coffee pot and paused in his step long enough to get a brief look at the note. “Simon!” he barked suddenly, pausing in mid-step. Simon cringed and dropped the note. It floated downwards, landing near Djerod’s outstretched foot.

“Never mind, they got the note, let’s just go please?” whispered Simon as Djerod stooped to pick up the paper.

"I think it's a bit too late for that," Yasha replied, watching Djerod warily to see what he would do. "I don't know about you, but I can't fly faster than a human can sprint when they really put their minds to it."

“Furthermore, I may be one hundred and seventy-nine years old, but my hearing and eyesight are still utterly perfect,” said Djerod lightly. “Simon, do you have any idea what this is?” He held up the note.

Simon could scarcely contain his fear. “It’s a note.”

“Yes, I can see that, now let’s see what it says, why don’t we?”

“It doesn’t say anything, my handwriting’s illegible,” managed Simon.

“Hmph,” said Djerod, glancing over it. “If you’re going to leave, I’ll insist you take some form of alert. We can’t be certain that the situation is safe for members of this household no matter who they are and where they go. Maximillian?”

“Don’t call me that!” shouted Max from the other side of the house. “You sound like my first wife.”

“Get Simon an ET. As for you, my dear,” he looked to Yasha, “I sincerely hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

"I think I have some idea," she said, nodding slightly to him. "Or at any rate, I have some educated guesses. At the very least, I do have a couple of very protective guardians, including an elder ice dragon and a very talented shinobi. I'm sure Yuuki and Tamako will be happy to watch over Simon as well while he's with me."

“Incoming!” came Max’s shout.

Djerod ducked and Simon hid behind Yasha. A moment later, something very small hit the wall extremely hard, nicking the paint. Djerod grabbed it before it hit the ground and held it out to Simon. “DAMNIT, MAX, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TRYING TO KILL?” shouted Djerod.

“YOU, you old fool!” Max shouted back.

Simon took the tiny object from Djerod. It was about the size of a jellybean and flesh-colored. “We can probably leave now,” Simon suggested.

Djerod didn’t even seem to notice that Simon had taken the device. “I’ll have you court-martialed for that! Assaulting a government official is a criminal offense!”

"Is it always like this here?" Yasha asked Simon, a little wide-eyed despite herself.

“It really depends who’s around, but yes,” said Simon. He cradled the emergency transmitter in his arm and took Yasha by the hand, pulling her towards the door.

“You’re supposed to be retired!” Max was shouting. “For that matter, so am I!”

“You were section forty-nined and you know it! All former military personnel of the Empire who have failed to serve their allotted military service for any reason, INCLUDING but not limited to the demise of the former government, may be re-drafted at any time, as per the will of the military high command!”

“Then what’s the point of the court martial? You know I’ll just be re-drafted! Hell, you’ll probably re-draft me yourself!”

They managed to make it to the front door, at least. Sally was waiting for them. “Just let me take care of the boys,” she winked, ushering the feien outside. “Be careful!” With a final wave, she closed the door behind them. It only served to muffle the shouting a little bit.

Yasha continued to stare over her shoulder, letting Simon drag her by the hand. "Right. Suddenly the gryphons and the Twin Typo Terrors don't seem so bad," she said faintly. Shaking herself, she brought her attention back to the matter at hand. "Shall we?"

“Yeah,” nodded Simon, beelining for the portal.

“YOU CHIPPED THE PAINT!” was the last thing either heard from the house before the portal’s magic engulfed them.

Normally, Simon was a late sleeper. This fact was very well-established. He hated to wake before nine in the morning, and frequently preferred ten. It was therefore a great surprise that he woke up at five-twenty in the morning, before both the twilight and Yasha. It was not an awakening by choice,

With a low, pained cry, Simon was pulled into consciousness. Something had just fallen on him! “Yasha?” he said drowsily, sitting up. “Ow.”

Yasha stirred on her futon across the room, and after a moment one blank white eye peered over at him from beneath the cover of her wing. "Yes? Are you all right, Simon?"

“Something fell on me.” He rubbed his head and looked at the darkness behind him. “Not to mention it’s freezing. Where’s my blanket? Huh, it’s right here...” It was lying on his lap, draped across his thighs, but his knees, calves, and feet were sticking out in the air. He started to pull them in, but for some reason they wouldn’t fit on the futon.

"Something fell on you?" she repeated, sounding a little more awake. "There shouldn't be anything above you, I don't think. What was it, can you find it?" It could, of course, have been one of her pixapets jumping on him, but she had them all fairly well trained at this point.

He felt the futon behind him, reaching all to the wall, but found nothing. Thinking perhaps it had fallen to the floor, he flopped down on the bed, and was rewarded with the sudden crack of his head against the wall. “Aghk!” he cried, and quickly sat back up. “My horns!”

There was a rustle from the other side as Yasha sat up, peering into the darkness. There were no windows in her knothole, so it was quite dark, even to her enhanced senses. However, she could tell there was definitely SOMEthing off about Simon's shape in the darkness. "Simon? You look different." A slow smile started to curve her lips as she did some mental math and came to an obvious conclusion. She'd let him figure it out for himself.

“I feel different,” he said, swinging his feet around into a sitting position. He hit a nearby table in the process. “I think I’ve grown eight inches,” he gasped out, trying to tend to both his wounded foot and head at the same time and not quite managing either.

"I suggest you sit still for a moment until you've gotten your bearings," Yasha said, watching him in amusement. He was definitely taller, and his body had filled out a bit, though she couldn't quite make out the details.

He sat quietly a moment at that, toeing the floor and staring down at what seemed to him to be a speckled dark nothingness. He thought maybe he could make out his new limbs, but it was surely just a phantom visage, the type experienced by new spelunkers who think they can see their hands in absolute darkness. Still. He pursed his lips and thought a moment. “At least eight inches,” he concluded, and lest that be confused with his earlier hyperbole, added, “Total.”

She chuckled, and stood with a smooth motion, padding over to one of the lamps and lighting it. The light was bright after the total darkness, and even though she'd been looking away as it flared up, she still had to blink a few times to clear her eyes. Then she smiled warmly at Simon, one of her rare true smiles.

He squinted at the sudden lighting change, then smiled himself and stood. Nearly everything on him on was longer: his arms, his legs, his face, his torso. Only his wings and ears seemed not to have changed very much. They were wider now but not much longer. He reached a long arm up towards the high ceiling, squinting at the increased distance.

"You're taller than me again," Yasha noted with amusement. "Well, I enjoyed having the height advantage on you for a few days, at least." She studied him carefully, noting all the small changes, and nodded. "It suits you."

“I’m taller than Corvus, too,” he noted. It sounded as if he wasn’t yet sure whether or not that was a bad or good thing. He crouched down to the floor, careful to avoid hitting anything, and retrieved his glasses. The still fit-- barely. “Thankfully heads don’t grow very much. I’ll have to get these refitted soon, though.” He looked at her over his shoulder. It felt more right this way, him looking up to her, and not just because he’d been shorter than her for a time.

Yasha bit her lip to still the giggle that wanted to form. "Yes, you'll have to get new glasses," she agreed. "They're a bit too narrow to suit your face, now."

“Cor--” he started, then stopped himself. Corvus wasn’t likely to be able to adjust them any time soon. “Perhaps I can find someone to adjust these. New lenses would be difficult to come by.”

"I'm sure someone among all the feien will know where you can go to get new glasses properly made," she assured him. "Since we're up and it's almost dawn anyway, would you like some breakfast?"

“Sure.” He sat down on the bed and yawned.

"So what did fall on you?" she asked as she moved towards the kitchen area. "Any preferences for what you want to eat?"

“Something with a lot of caffeine,” he drawled, “and nothing fell on my head.” He bit his lip and watched her from the corner of his eye, seeming suddenly wary.

"What happened, then?" she asked, moving to open the tin of coffee she'd borrowed from Shinobu. She didn't like things with caffeine in them, but she'd noticed that Shinobu and his friends often woke up more quickly after they'd drunk some, so she'd gotten it for Simon. "Did you grow so quickly you hit your head? I was in trance the whole time I was growing, so I'm not sure how long it took."

“I just hit it,” he said, relaxing. He fingered the affected horn. It seemed undamaged by the impact with the wooden wall. The wall wasn’t quite as fortunate. There was a tiny dent, scarcely noticeable unless you new where to look. “Sorry about your wall.”

"It's a tree," she reminded him with a brief smile over her shoulder as she set the coffee on to perk. "It will heal. I'm more concerned about your head. How hard did you hit it?"

“Not too hard. The disorientation’s gone now.” He looked down at his foot. It was covered in blood, courtesy the table he’d hit in the darkness. “Can I have a rag or something? I’m afraid I need to clean your floor.”

Clean the floor? Why?" she brought a rag over, and her eyes widened slightly when she saw the blood. "Where did you cut yourself?"

He bent his leg for a closer look. “It looks worse than it is. Nothing but a scratch, really.” He pressed his forearm over the area to staunch the blood flow.

She knelt in front of him and took his foot in her hand, brushing his arm gently away and placing her own hand there instead. "Here, let me." She drew a deep breath and dropped herself into the light trance she preferred to be in when actively using her magic. It made it easier for her to feel the flow and direct the energies when she was slightly detached from the 'real' world herself. She directed her magic into Simon's leg, coaxing the skin and blood vessels to remember their true form, the shape they should have when everything was working properly.

Simon jerked away suddenly. “Thank you, but I don’t need any help.”

She tightened her hand reflexively, holding his foot in place with ease, startled out of her trance. When she sorted through the disorientation and realized her grip was probably a little more firm than was comfortable, she released him. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking up at him, her face expressionless but her eyes confused. "I won't hurt you."

He placed both his hands on top of hers. “Yasha, “I’m not a child any more,” he said earnestly, “and while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, there are some things I can do myself.” His narrow eyes looked at her almost imploringly.

The confusion turned to surprise. "I didn't realize you had any healing magic. However, my offer to heal you has nothing to do with you being a child, Simon. I'm a Life feien." She shrugged slightly. "I don't like to see things in pain, or thrown out of their natural state. It feels... wrong, to me. And, you're my friend, I don't like for you to feel pain, especially when there's something I can do to help."

“It doesn’t hurt any more,” he said quietly, tightening his hands around hers. “And it’s more natural for me to do it myself.”

She blinked slowly, absorbing that, and the possible connotations of his tone and posture. "All right. I apologize, I didn't intend to offend you or upset you."

“Nonsense,” he smiled, “you could never offend me. Upset, perhaps, but not offend.” One corner of his mouth tugged up with amusement.

She was relieved, though as usual the emotion didn't show much on her face, and nodded. "I stopped the bleeding, at least, so it will be easier for you to take care of." She proffered the rag she'd brought over in the first place.

He wiped the blood away. “Here, you go make breakfast, I’ll deal with this.” He leaned over and starting rubbing at the floor, his shoulder brushing her arm in the process.

She stood and placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, before moving back to the kitchen. "So other than caffeine, is there anything you'd like for breakfast?" she asked with some amusement. "Something in solid form, perhaps? I thought you might be missing Western style food."

“What’s to miss?” he replied, trying to get rid of the blood before it worked itself permanently into the wood grain.

"I don't know, many people here seem to enjoy it, and crave it if they don't get it," she said, chuckling softly. "But I'm perfectly happy to make oriental food if you're happy with it." She moved to start the rice boiling, turning ideas over in her mind. She wanted to do SOMEthing special for him. It was an important day, to grow up, and part of her felt it ought to be marked in some way. Hers hadn't been, but then, she didn't place the same sort of emphasis on such things that many other people did.

While she pondered, Simon worked hard at eradicating the stain. The area was still a little discolored. “Can you do a Shield?” he asked suddenly.

"A shield?" she repeated, looking at him curiously. "I don't think so. Except for healing, none of my magic is active, it's just inherent. What is it?"

“It’s an energy barrier, capable of deflecting physical and magical attacks. There’s a sort of trick to expanding it that can be used for cleaning purposes, to separate alien particles from a surface. It’s a little bit beyond my magical skill. I guess this will have to do then.” Simon shrugged and stood, starting towards the kitchen area with the reddish rag.

Yasha nodded, not even looking at the stain. "It's fine. A little blood won't hurt the tree at all. It will just absorb it. Breakfast is almost ready," she added, smiling slightly at him as he approached. It was still a little odd to have to adjust her eyes so far upwards, she reflected. He had more than an inch on her, now.

“A self-correcting and adjusting home,” he said, considering the idea as he idly washed the rag. “It would be like the magical equivalent of a starship.”

She blinked, amused by the comparison. She thought a living tree was just about as far from a starship as you could possibly get, but she could see where he was making the connection. "Not quite that advanced, I think," she corrected softly, stirring the miso. "It's simply part of the cycle of life. Everything in nature is recycled endlessly."

“Well, but as a concept, it would be interesting. Say you found a way to enchant your dishes to clean themselves, or a broom to sweep by itself. What if when you were done reading a book, it automatically flew back onto the bookshelf, or the pages turned by themselves? Even the food would prepare itself. I’m certain it could be done with some careful use of spells.” This was starting to sound less like a random musing and more like something Simon might like to try and accomplish.

"It would certainly help with some of the tedious tasks that take up time in the day, if they could be made to work properly," Yasha agreed after a moment. Personally she disliked the idea; it seemed a flagrant waste of magic to her, to use it for things that could be done so easily without magic. And sometimes having small, mindless tasks like cleaning was good for the mind and soul. But she could see that the project appealed to Simon, and she knew not everyone would share her distaste for it. "Of course, if they misfunctioned, they would cause more problems than they solved," she added.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage Simon. His eyes took on a glazed look. “Can you imagine the fun? Tinkering with magical appliances and working out all the kinks. There’s this underlying complexity to magic that allows one to manipulate spells and even create new ones. An enchanted object would be the perfect testing grounds for such research.”

"It's more your idea of fun than mine," Yasha reminded him serenely. "But it certainly seems fascinating. You're welcome to use my things to experiment... so long as you do it outside, and agree to replace anything that breaks in the process."

“I couldn’t, though, really, could I?” He looked at her rather blankly. “That would require more magical power than I have at my disposal.”

"You could begin the process with small things," she suggested. "It would probably be good magical practice for you." Considering it that way, she was even willing to add, "I might join you. I could use the practice too, though I'm not sure ANY of my magic would be applicable. Perhaps we could learn applicable magics together."

“Certainly.” He peered over at the rice. “I think it might be done.”

She glanced over, and nodded. "Would you like to try making the rice balls?" she asked. "I think I'll put some fruit in the center today, if you don't object. Shinobu's garden is full of ripe things, and I'd like to take advantage of it."

“Sure.” He’d watched her make rice balls for several days now. Surely it couldn’t be too hard to do.

She brought the little bowl of salt over and sprinkled a pinch of it into her hands. "Like this," she said, taking a scoop of rice and compacting it between her hands, flipping and turning it a few times until it formed a flat, somewhat triangular shape. "And then you just put the fruit in the middle," she said, setting the onigiri down on a plate and pressing a small piece of strawberry into the center.

He did his best to imitate her every motion. Flip, squeeze, flip-- oops! He pressed on it a bit too hard and half of the vaguely triangular shape fell to the floor. Quickly, Simon bent to scoop up the mess, realizing a moment too late he was standing too close to the kitchen countertop. His forehead bounced off the edge and he gave the tiniest squeak of surprise and pain.

Yasha's only outward reaction was a small flutter of her wings, though she was laughing internally. She knew how he felt, though; she'd gone through all this a few days ago. "It'll take you a while to get used to being larger," she said.

“I’ll say.” He rubbed at his forehead a moment and finally managed to get the fallen rice off the floor and dispose of it. “Here goes.” He took a goodly-sized handful of rice and started the process again.

"It takes a while to get the hang of it," Yasha confided, making another one that matched the first almost to the grain. "I ended up with some very interesting shapes at first. But no triangles."

Simon held up his handiwork for all to see. “No triangles,” he chuckled, turning his head to the side. “I can kind of see an eye.”

She smiled softly. "It's like watching clouds. You can see whatever you like. Or perhaps it's more like those inkblots psychiatrists make you look at? Some subtle message about the inner workings of your mind."

“I think this has more to do with my physical dexterity than my subconscious.” He put the rice ball, or football, which was a more accurate term for the mass, on the plate. Despite its flaws, it was his first ever rice ball. “Is there any sort of significance to the shape?”

"I'm not sure, actually," she admitted. "Knowing something about the minds of the Japanese, it might simply be for aesthetic value."

“Aesthetics, hm.” He started on another. “From the Greek by way of Latin.”

It took her a second to follow that line of logic, but then she chuckled. "Well, I'm sure they have their own word for it, which would have absolutely nothing to do with Greek OR Latin."

“Sadly, Japanese isn’t my forte.” He shrugged and finished off a rice ball. It was slightly better than the first. “Latin is more useful in the sciences.”

"I'm trying to learn Japanese, and Mandarin and Cantonese after that," Yasha said. "Perhaps after that I'll study some of the Indian languages. The difference between reading translations of the sutras and the originals is like the difference between watching a sport and playing in it."

“They say the same thing of the Aeneid, the Oddysey, Dante’s Inferno. It makes sense that nothing conveys an idea quite the way the author intended as the language it was written. There are shades of meaning to words that are unique to their language of origin. Some languages can’t even be translated into English, the mindset is so different. Ah, this one looks good!” He turned the rice ball over in his hands happily.

"Mmm, yes!" Yasha agreed. "Put the strawberry in the middle, and it's just right. Now the question is," her gaze turned slightly teasing, "can you reproduce the effects of your experiment?"

“Not with your precision,” he admitted, admiring her work, “but practice makes perfect.”

"And my precision certainly didn't come without practice," she agreed, setting another one down. "There's a reason I don't perform skills I'm not well versed in when I'm in front of others. It's bad for my image." Only with Simon would she ever be this open about herself, and then only because he had earned her trust so thoroughly. She found she rather enjoyed having someone she didn't feel pressured to be 'perfect' in front of, however. Even she liked to relax her guard occasionally.

“It doesn’t matter what others think. Eventually they forgive and forget your mistakes,” said Simon.

"Perhaps," she agreed. "I simply prefer to be proficient at anything others see me doing. There's nothing quite like seeing someone who claims to be an 'expert' bungling simple processes of the thing he or she is supposedly an expert OF."

“Then simply don’t claim to be an expert at anything. Then again, I can hardly see why you need to worry about bungling things up. You’re the most perfect of all the feien.” Innocently said, but easily interpreted otherwise.

To her own surprise, Yasha blushed slightly. "Thank you," she acknowledged the compliment. "Though I'm sure there are those who would argue the point," she added with some amusement.

“With what evidence?” he asked, looking at her curiously. Even towering over her, he still seemed fairly childish.

"Personal opinion," she replied. "It's a subjective subject, Simon. I'm sure there are feien I wouldn't get along with, and they certainly wouldn't consider me 'perfect' in any way."

“I can only think that would be a fault in them, not you.”

She studied his expression for a moment, curious. This wasn't usual behaviour for him. "Not that I object to it, but why the sudden flattery? You've never felt the need to express such opinions before. And you certainly don't tend to think I'm 'perfect' when we're arguing about a philosophical or scientific point."

His expression clouded a moment. “Yes, well, even when we disagree, it’s not as if you’re making mistakes. I just don’t see why you have to be worried about the matter. In fact, you shouldn’t be worried about doing things wrong. That’s simply part of learning and life”

She pondered that for a moment, trying to pick the right words with which to answer. "I don't worry about doing things wrong, per se. It IS part of the learning process. Trust me, I make plenty of mistakes when I try to learn any new skill. It's more a matter of the fact that I prefer to make my mistakes in private, I suppose."

“I guess that makes sense.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s better than my method, anyway.”

"Why, what's your method?" she asked, picking up the plate of finished rice balls and bringing it over to the table. She went back for the soup, ladeling out two bowls and carrying them over as well before settling herself in front of it.

Taking the seat next to her, he took one of his own rice balls so she wouldn’t have to suffer through eating it. “Public humiliation.” He bit into the ball. It tasted fine.

She chuckled. "I've never seen you humiliate yourself. Make mistakes, yes, but not humiliate yourself." She shrugged. "You and I are very different people, and it shows in the way we handle different aspects of our lives. But that's not a bad thing, nor does it make one way 'better' than the other. It's simply what's most suited to us."

“What do you call stammering like an idiot in front of everyone, forgetting your name, and impaling oneself on the shop floor, then?”

"You impaled yourself because *I* startled you," she reminded him. "That was as much my fault as yours. I already knew you tended to be focused, I should have given you more warning."

“But it’s my fault for not paying enough attention,” he protested, and wrinkled his nose again. “I’m always doing stupid stuff like that. I even got stuck in a car for five hours one time because I didn’t realize it was going to Pennsylvania!”

Yasha had to bite her lip to stifle a chuckle, but she managed to keep her expression serene. "I'll grant that you can be... unobservant at times," she allowed. "But that's only because you have such a profound ability to focus on your thoughts."

“I guess.” Simon shrugged and stared at his food.

Yasha was silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to deal with this new self-defeating mood of Simon's. "You dislike the trait in yourself that much?" she finally asked, her voice soft and curious.

“No. Yes.” He bit his lip. “Nobody else is the same. Everyone’s different, of course, but I thought maybe, just maybe, there’d be someone out there more like me, someone who understands me.”

She just looked at him for a long moment, her white eyes devoid of emotion. "Simon, how well do you think you understand me?"

“Maybe a little?” He didn’t sound particularly confident about that assessment.

She smiled slightly at that. "Does that make a difference in your feelings towards me?"

“Yes?” he croaked, then, “I’m not sure. But it changes my actions.”

"How so?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

This was a subject he finally had a handle on. “Because without knowing how you think, I can’t guess as to what your reactions to my actions are. In a way, it’s like an experiment, testing to determine the results and drawing a conclusion for that, but it’s an experiment for which I can have no hypothesis, and furthermore, it’s an experiment with heavy consequences. If in the course of a normal experiment, my hypothesis is proved wrong, that’s fine. But when dealing with other people, a wrong hypothesis can affect relationships irreversibly. What if something I had assumed about you were not true, or vice versa? It would cause a rift. Emotions enter the mix. And we, unlike proteins and molecules, have memories and are unique and irreplaceable. An experiment can always be performed again, but when dealing with people, sometimes a failure to get things on the first chance makes it impossible to achieve the desired effect at any point in the future.”

She blinked at him, somewhat astounded. "Simon, I can never decide if you're naive about people, or just far too wise. That was very profound."

“Was it?” He looked honestly surprised to receive such a compliment. “It wasn’t anything more than a simple statement of fact, a conclusion drawn from the evidence.” He blushed and pushed his glasses up on his nose unnecessarily; they were presently so tight on his face they might never come off.

"Not everyone has the power to reach such conclusions, no matter how much evidence they're presented with," she replied.

“But that’s exactly the problem. If no one can come to the same conclusions as me, how can anyone else hope to understand me?” He was either honestly curious, or deperate, and quite possibly both.

"The greatest visionaries and leaders have never been understood, Simon," she told him. "The greater your gift, the less you will be understood. It is both a duty and responsibility for those people to attempt to share the understanding they have gained for themselves. But Simon," she gave him another of her true smiles. "Understanding is not synonymous with value or caring."

He looked at his newly-big hands sadly. “But I want to understand, and I want to be understood. I’ve been thinking, and I think that’s the thing I’m missing. I don’t understand my bond, or Corvus, or you, or anyone else. How can I?”

She looked at him steadily for a moment. "Would it help if I told you that I have never found another person I truly understood? And certainly no-one who has understood me? I am unique, and happy that way, though I admit I become frustrated occasionally with the differences between my thinking and that of others."

Simon shrugged hopelessly. “Maybe that sort of understanding is just impossible for us. Knowing how another’s mind works, anticipating their needs and reactions... I guess it’s just magic beyond my ken.”

Yasha tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Isn't there a magic, an 'enhanced bond' spell that some feien can learn? Perhaps that would help you find the understanding you seek. But," she quirked an eyebrow at him in warning, "the understanding you see may not be everything you hoped it would be. Or it may be more than you hoped it would be."

“You’re probably right. Besides, it’s not like I have any interest in further understanding my bond’s mind. I understand more of that than I want already.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. When that proved too strange a position for him given his new body, he crossed his arms. That was strange, too, so he ended up fidgeting as he spoke, testing positions seemingly at random.

"You and your bonded are too different to truly understand each other. As are you and I," Yasha agreed. "But the attempt is part of what creates social interaction, and it's an important part of our lives. I, for one, am glad I know you, for you provide a balancing force for me."

He smiled at that, finally finding some sort of a comfortable position with his arms, and reached across the table. He was extremely tall now, and her arms were proportionately long, enough for him to tap her on the head once. “It’d be nice to know just once what goes on in there, though,” he smiled, “because out of all the humans and feien and aliens and everything else, yours is the mind I’d most like to be a part of.”

She gave him a small, bemused smile. "My thought processes are perfectly logical," she assured him. "I don't understand why the rest of you seem to have so much trouble following them."

Once again, Simon was on his home turf. He sat up straighter, his shoulders straightened out, and all trace of his usual nervousness disappeared. “Logic, outside of computers, tends to be subjective for one simple reason: since we cannot read each other’s thought processes, we can’t see the logical progressions the minds of others make. You might cook rice for breakfast, and that would be perfectly logical based upon the available food and preferences and the like, but to anyone besides you, it seems an arbitrary decision. I admit, that’s a fairly poor example, but one easily extrapolated to cover other instances. If you explained to me your reasoning behind the rice, I would probably agree it was perfectly logical. But since no one as the time to describe all their reasoning, we function in a state of perceived illogicality, even when many of us are doing things which are, for our own purposes, perfectly logical.”

"That's reasonable," she agreed. "However, I still find it somewhat baffling how often people are unable to follow or predict my thoughts. Baffling, and amusing."

“Insufficient data,” he explained, sounding amused himself. “But I suppose, after having said all that, it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

She stood, and began clearing off the table. The food had vanished while they were talking, and the sun was just starting to crest the horizon outside. "Since you're up anyway, would you like to join me for my dawn meditation?" she invited. "It looks like it's going to be a wonderful day."

Simon shook his hand out experimentally. “I’m not sure about wonderful, but it will at least be very interesting.”

She chuckled. "Ah, yes. Perhaps we should invest in some form of padding for you? From my own first day as an adult, I can assure you that you will spend quite some time walking into things that are closer or lower than you expect them to be."

“I think I’ll survive,” he remarked wryly.

"Then let's go," she said, putting the last of the dishes away and moving towards the door. "I'll race you to the stream." She darted out the door and was in flight before she'd even really finished the sentence.

“Hey, wait!” he cried, leaping after her, and a moment later was gone. Somehow, despite his ducking and weaving to avoid the many new obstacles brought on by the size change, he would catch up to her in more ways than one.

When he asked where Simon was, he was informed that Simon had gone to Yasha’s house. When he asked where that was, he received a datapad with built-in tracking software and the obligatory good luck pat on the back. Only given that the pat was coming from a human, it was more like being hit with a truck.

Staggering out, Corvus followed the datapad’s instructions through the portal into Gaia. As he passed the feien shop, he wondered if perhaps he could implant tracking chips into all the feien and track them that way, but decided they would probably object to being treated like the herd of worms they were.

Flying high in the air, he went straight towards the signal, the datapad levitating just in front of him. He passed over town and over the woods (where he had to be wary of predatory birds) and spotted a human residence. Simon’s signal was definitely coming from there. Not from the residence exactly, but from just outside. Corvus could barely contain his exuberance as he dove forward.

Yasha was outside meditating over her Zen garden when she heard the Twin Terrors start hooting and hollering. She opened her eyes to see the two typo devils launching off the roof of the cottage, heading for a black winged form that was incoming. After a moment, she identified the distant shape as another feien. "Oh, no you don't," she muttered in the direction of the devils, and took flight as well, determined to head them off.

Corvus came to a stop in the air and checked the readout on the datapad. Where precisely was it coming from? He gave a short sniff. Technology. He stretched his mind out and looked for Simon’s magical energy.

Discovering, in the process, two signals incoming. Corvus whipped about, one hand crackling with dark energy and the other ready to summon up a Shield, or a cloud of darkness, or anything else the situation might merit.

Yasha managed to get a grip on Xel's ankle, which of course left her hand stained with purple ink. Since her flight was magic induced and his was aerodynamic, she WAS able to pull him to a stop. The blue devil, Zel, just cackled and attempted to divebomb Corvus and paint his wings with blue ink.

With a cry of fury (completely for effect), Corvus thrust his hand towards the creature and sent his dark energy blast sailing towards it, bringing up his shield a split second later.

Zel shrieked as the blast hit him and banked sharply, though not before throwing a glob of blue ink at Corvus. "Enough!" Yasha commanded sternly, shaking Xel where he hung by the ankle from her fist. "You may follow your natures and attempt to paint the rest of us who live here at your own risk, but attacking the guests is not acceptable. If you do it again, I'll get Tamako to drive the lesson into your heads." She heaved Xel at Zel, sending them both tumbling backwards in the air. "Go find Aqua to torment or something." Apologetically, she bowed slightly to Corvus. "I apologize for their behaviour."

The ink fell harmlessly off the shield. “I’ll cut straight to the point,” he said coldly. “Where is Simon?”

Yasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Generally, when coming uninvited to one's home, it is considered good manners to be polite," she said simply. "He's this way." She turned and flew back the way she'd come, towards her own house.

Corvus glared at Yasha’s back as he drifted after her. He had always assumed Simon would pick worthwhile feien to associate with, but perhaps that assumption was in error. This Yasha was quite possibly just as idiotic and annoying as all the other feien. He would watch her most carefully now.

"Simon?" Yasha called as they neared the tree. "Are you outside?" She debated whether or not she should announce the identity of their guest. Simon would either come tearing out... or go hide somewhere to sulk that Corvus hadn't come SOONER. Finally she decided it was better to warn him. "Corvus is here."

There was no immediate response, but Corvus did not require one. He furled his wings, focused in on the magical signature he knew to be Simon, and blinked out of existence. He reappeared instantly an inch in front of Simon, floating safely in midair by some lucky chance. “Si--”

This was not the Simon he remembered. Corvus let out a strangled gasp, which was followed by one from Simon as well. “Yih!” said Simon, falling just short of actual linguistic function.

“Simon!” managed Corvus, and grabbed Simon by the shoulders.

Stunned, Simon stared at Corvus with an open mouth which refused, despite his best efforts, to close. The most he could manage was a trembling sort of twitching.

“You-- You’ve grown,” said Corvus, which was quite the understatement. Simon seemed to be about twice his former height, meaning the only reason Corvus could place his hands on Simon’s shoulders was because he was presently hovering in midair. Everything about Simon seemed longer, thinner, and older. Gone was the bumbling innocence of Simon’s youth. He now possessed a sort of tense rigidity, which to Corvus seemed as if every moment of existence was an exercise in failed control for the bespectacled feien. Emotions flickered freely over his long face, contorting features every which way. Was this joy, or fear, or anger, or all three?

Yasha was momentarily startled when Corvus disappeared, but continued to fly towards her house. She caught a glimpse of blue and black off to one side, and banked to land on a branch above them. For the moment she stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt the 'reunion', but she didn't want to leave, either. Simon might need her help... or, alternatively, might need her to try to talk some sense into him, as had been the case rather more often than not lately.

Shaking free from Corvus’s grasp, Simon took a deep breath to focus himself, and said at last, “Corvus. It’s been a long time.”

Corvus missed whatever cue Simon was trying to give him and threw his arms up. “You have no idea what I’ve been through! That was the longest damn month of my entire life! Or was it more than a month? I don’t even know! I spent part of the time dead! Pulled from one dimension to the next, starved,” he began to tick things off on his fingers, “exposed to the elements, trapped, harassed, tricked, terrified, lost, and let’s not forget that all important one, KILLED.”

“Shut up,” said Simon. He said it at first quietly, so quietly it was scarcely a whisper and could not be heard over Corvus’s exclamation, and then said it much louder, more forceful: “Shut up!”

Corvus froze. “What?”

“I said shut up!” repeated Simon for the third and last time, glaring at Corvus with his eyes while the rest of him trembled. “I don’t care where you’ve been. It’s not important to me any more.”

“Simon, don’t be mad. What are you on about?” asked Corvus.

Yasha sighed, quietly enough that they wouldn't hear her. She'd been afraid this would be her friend's reaction. She dropped down off her branch and landed beside Simon, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Simon. Remember that he doesn't know what's been going through your head for the last while. At least give him a chance to tell his side of the story." Silently she tried to will support to her friend. She didn't agree with his reaction, but she also didn't like seeing him this badly upset.

Simon quickly turned away from them both. Corvus shot Yasha a mildly confused look and stepped up to Simon. He said something a low voice in a strange language: “Leshkrai koats vedlkoshil masiilr. Edl pashvi masiilr melkannen?”

Whatever it meant, it elicited a weary sigh from Simon, who replied, “Maikresh kashvoll maskannet.”

“Well done,” smiled Corvus. “And I assure you if I had had any opportunity to tell you whatsoever, I would have.”

“But you didn’t just leave without telling. You left.” Simon’s eyebrows came together, forming a distressed crease on the middle on his forehead.

“I have a feeling we are not going to be ending this discussion today,” said Corvus, crossing his arms, “and certainly not in the company of outsiders.” He gave Yasha a wary look.

“Yasha’s not!” exclaimed Simon.

"To him, I am, Simon," Yasha corrected him gently. "And given what little I HAVE learned of your Bonded's activities, it's entirely possible what he has to tell you is too sensitive for ears he doesn't know he can trust." She shrugged slightly. "I would not willingly tell Shinobu's secrets to someone I didn't personally know, however highly recommended."

“My, but you are an annoying know-it-all,” said Corvus.

“Corvus!” exclaimed Simon, turning red. Whether from anger or embarrassment was hard to tell.

Corvus just started to laugh. “First it’s telling me to be polite, now it’s deciding what it is I have to say, and if you have any idea as to what our Em is like I shall be honestly surprised, as I don’t believe you’ve ever met her. Tell me, do you assume that you know everything all the time? And who, pray tell, gave you that right?”

"I did say 'what little I have learned'," Yasha pointed out serenly. "Are you generally so rude to someone who is agreeing with you?" She tilted her head at him. "I haven't truly met you before, either, but from Simon's descriptions, I had expected someone with a bit more sense."

“Anyone who takes advantage of Simon deserves my scorn,” growled Corvus.

“Yasha hasn’t!” squeaked Simon.

Corvus waved a hand at Simon for silence. “I know what Simon’s like. All you had to do was purport to have answers to his dilemmas and questions and he’d follow you like a puppy. Correct me if I’m wrong?”

"No, you are for the most part correct in your assessment of his personality," she agreed blandly. "However, I have never claimed to have answers to his problems, only opinions on them. It is up to him what he makes of my opinions... for the most part," she added, her tone turning ever so slightly dry, "he's been ignoring them entirely."

“Good!” smirked Corvus.

“Corvus, STOP!” yelled Simon. Even his shoulders were red now. “Stop it! I’m not going back with you. Now or ever. I’m going to stay here.” He fixed his former mentor with a determined glare, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Corvus looked momentarily confused. “What? You’re being mad again. You can’t stay here. This isn’t your home.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Besides, you’ve got a job to do at home. And furthermore, I require your assistance.”

“Aha!” went Simon. “So you only bother to come see me when you require me, at your convenience.”

“What daft ideas has this harlot been putting into your head?” snapped Corvus, pointing at Yasha as he insulted her. “I was expecting to see you directly upon my arrival home, and was much distressed when you were not there!” Corvus suddenly looked as if he had just eaten a particularly sour lemon.

If Yasha's eyes hadn't been white to start with, they might have darkened. As it was, there was no visible change in her expression or tone of voice. "You've been warned once. As you are Simon's... friend, I shall warn you again. This is my home, and you will be civil to me, AND to Simon, while you are here. If simple manners are truly beyond your grasp, even for a short period, then I will be forced to have Yuuki escort you off the property."

“And I’m not going with you!” added Simon, that being the only threat he could make.

“I would love to see you try, you little ingrate. But fine, Simon, I don’t care if you leave of not, that’s your right, though I can certainly say I think remaining one moment more with this holier-than-thou annoyance is a poor idea indeed. But before I leave you to your life of sin I must have a pair for breeding. Which feien do you know of have the potential to breed?”

Simon stared at Corvus, agape. “You can’t say stuff like that! To anyone! It doesn’t matter who you are! Besides, I don’t know who’d be good for a breeding. I’ve been here the whole time you were gone!”

Blind as well as rude, apparently, Yasha sighed to herself, glancing around. She spotted a ball of dark green feathers on a rock near the stream. "Boondock!" she called, and the gryphlet raised his head, blinking sleepily in her direction. "Fetch Yuuki, will you please? Tell him Simon and I are being harrassed." With a snarl in Corvus' direction, Boondock leapt into flight, heading for the tidepools where Yuuki liked to sun.

She turned back to Corvus. "If you'd been a bit more polite, and considerably more observant, you might have noticed you have a perfectly viable pair standing right in front of you. As it is, you have a very limited time to either completely change your attitude, or leave the property, before you're sent back to your Bonded frozen into an icicle. Yuuki does not take well to people being rude to his charges."

“I survived death once, girl, and I’ll do it again,” sneered Corvus. “I no longer fear it.”

“Well if you want your breeding, we’re what you get!” said Simon suddenly. It had taken him a moment to realize what Yasha had just said, and the minute he did, he realized the potential implications.

Corvus realized it, too. His eyes widened. “Surely not!”

“Surely so,” retorted Simon. Whatever red had once colored his features was now gone completely. Of course, he was still slightly uneasy. What if Yasha had not truly intended it? He cast a sidelong glance at her.

She blinked at him in surprise. "Simon? Would you truly like that?" She hadn't considered it seriously, save as a fuzzy 'maybe someday' possibility. She'd been mostly facetious in her comment to Corvus. But if it was something Simon really wanted, she was certainly willing to consider it now rather than later.

Simon’s eyes glinted and he reached up to adjust his glasses. Light glinted off the frames. “The breeding process entails a bonding, much the same as bonding a bloom to a human, though not quite as strong unless repeated multiple times. Thus the reason for the stringent selection process. I think you’ll find that not only do Yasha and I possess the qualifications, but that by House rules, you will no longer be able to treat Yasha as an outsider. This does not mean, of course, that you are required to treat her kindly, but you must accord her a respect equal to all house residents.”

Corvus blanched. “I won’t. Not with her.”

To that, Simon merely crossed his arms and said lightly, “You cannot refuse. If a petitioner is not found to be wanting, you are required to fulfill the petition as part of your duties as summoner. You are not in the strictest sense allowed to deny us for any reason, most especially those reasons which are of a personal nature.”

Yasha was mildly impressed with her friend. Simon's stubbornness COULD come in handy, she acknowledged silently and with inner amusement. Not that she was particularly eager to be considered 'family' to this arrogant man, but Simon could hardly be blamed for the personalities of his 'family'. That was far beyond his control. Karma would give Corvus what he deserved in time, she reminded herself firmly. While she would not tolerate his rudeness while he was in her home, so to speak, it also wasn't her place to try to 'fix' him beyond that.

Corvus looked positively crestfallen. He had been outsmarted by his own prodigy. “Dammit. You know the rules too well.”

Simon crossed his arms and frowned. “I had an able teacher. Yasha, you should probably call off Yuuki.” He looked at her imploringly.

At about that moment, Boondock came thundering down to land between Yasha and Corvus. "I couldn't find 'im," he panted, "but I'll protect ye as best I can, lass." He ruffled his feathers up to make himself look bigger, and glared at Corvus. Yasha bit her lip to contain a chuckle, and rested a hand on his head. "Thank you, Boon," she said softly. "He seems to have mended his ways for the moment."

Corvus pulled himself out of his angry sulking just long enough to say, “Oh, one of those? Feh. At least give me a challenge of some sort.” He started towards the door. “Since you’ve successfully won this battle, my dear Simon, we may as well get this over with.”

“Right now?” asked Simon.

“No,” said Corvus, “in a year when I’m dead again. Yes, now! I have an excess of magical energy I need to be rid of.”

"I take it back," Yasha said dryly to Boondock. "And no," her hand on the gryphlet became restraining when it looked like he was thinking about lunging at Corvus, "do NOT attack him. You can't handle him, much as I appreciate the gesture." Boondock deflated somewhat, and gave her an apologetic look. She turned back to Corvus. "If you want a challenge, you're welcome to come back when Yuuki or Tamako are here. For that matter, I'm sure Yuuki will be interested in talking to you about more than just comparing magics, now."

“If I ever set foot on this property again, it’ll be a lifetime too soon,” remarked Corvus. “Now come along! This has wasted too much time already.”

"Some details would be appreciated," Yasha said, glancing at Simon rather than Corvus. "I'm not about to make a life-altering decision based on 'I need two people and you qualify even though I don't want to use you'."

“It’s--”

“Shut up, Simon, you’ve said enough,” growled Corvus. Simon looked genuinely hurt at the order, but Corvus was beyond caring at this point. “Two feien, one feien plant, one summoner -- that would be me -- meld together magically, resulting in new feien blooms which are a combination of the two feien who were combined. Blooms then go to humans for bonding. The propagation of the feien race, resulting in us not going extinct, oh joy. The end.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re skipping a lot. Like the chance of mutation.” He turned to Yasha. “Essentially, two feien can be combined magically by a summoner to produce new blooms. There is a chance of mutation occurring during this process, approximately one in twenty. Ares gained a tail in this manner. The number of resulting blooms varies, anywhere from one to five, though you should know five is impossible with me due to my low magic. The process can be enhanced by an extra influx of magic, referred to as pollination, which increases the number of blooms by one, but it increases the chance of mutation in both the bonding feien and the resulting blooms.”

“Now can we leave?” Corvus asked, determined to pester the two of them into rescinding the demand.

"While I appreciate the technical information," she nodded at Simon, "I actually was thinking more along the lines of where exactly we were going and what would be expected, not to mention a chance to speak to you and certainly to warn the rest of the house that I was leaving so a search party wouldn't be sent out." She glanced at Corvus. "For someone who was so concerned about me 'taking advantage' of Simon, you seem quite determined to railroad him yourself."

“That would be to my house,” with emphasis on the my, “where the feien plant is located, you’re not expected to do anything besides stand there and hold on to the plant, and unlike you I don’t pretend my motives with Simon are pure and helpful.” Simon blushed at that, and nearly decided to duck under the nearest sheet, only he had long since learned that such actions failed to resolve any situation except perhaps fatigue. Corvus flicked an imagined piece of dust off his toga sleeve. “Go do whatever it is you have to do, provided it doesn’t take more than ten minutes. Longer than that and I’ll have to go fetch Aileron and San.” Corvus looked suddenly quite tired, as if the weight of the past two months had finally come crashing down on his shoulders.

“I’ll go with you, Yasha,” said Simon quickly.

Yasha nodded, and moved far enough away that Corvus wouldn't be able to overhear them easily, even if he had Enhanced Senses as she did. "I'm almost tempted to let him get Aileron and San, considering I know they've been too frightened of him to ASK him for the blooms they'd like to have," she said quietly to Simon. "However, I wouldn't wish dealing with him on someone as sweet and shy as San. Is he always like this?"

Simon glanced back quickly. “Yes. But I’d sooner stab myself on a thousand splinters than put him through the misery of breeding Aileron and San. I suppose I could try to find Arturo and Ares and ask them to breed again if you don’t want...” He cringed as he looked at her again.

"I didn't say that," Yasha said gently. "In fact, I do want to have children at some point. Creating the next generation is part of the cycle of life, and I don't want to miss that experience. It's whether I want to do it right now that is in question, and that depends in large part on your reasons for doing it."

“I, um, well,” he sputtered almost comically, cheeks flushing. “This is rather my fault, for not keeping up with the shop, and-- there are a lot of reasons! I can’t just desert him, no matter how much I want to. And...”

"Simon!" she broke the stream of words. "Calm down. None of that is answering my question. If you feel it's that important, I'll help you find a breeding pair who aren't Aileron and San if we choose not to do this. What I want to know is why you feel that we should do this, right now. These are new lives we're talking about, lives for which you and I will be responsible. This isn't something to be jumped into on a moment's whim."

“A responsibility? The resulting blooms are the responsibility of the humans they are bonded to. Any responsibility on our part to the offspring blooms is totally optional. Though I suppose we could be seen as having a responsibility to pass on our genes.” He paused there, considering.

"That's not quite what I meant," she said dryly. "Yes, I know their Bonded human is responsible for taking care of them. But we're still responsible for them, in a greater sense, Simon."

“How do you mean?” he asked innocently. “It’s not as if we’re expected to be their parents.”

"But we ARE their parents, Simon," she pointed out. "What they are reflects on us just as much as it does on their Bonded. Do you really intend to simply drop them into the void and never worry about them again?"

Simon cocked his head to the side. “No. I expect to treat them just as I do any other feien. Parents are a necessity for offspring who are born undeveloped and require nurturing. Feien don’t require that from other feien: the nurturing is done by the bonded human, which is essential, else the feien in question would die. Among the many animals of the world, numerous species do not tend for their young. Feien are that sort of species. As we are born fully capable of tending to ourselves, we do not require the love or attention of a parent the way humans do. Human babies cannot fend for themselves when born, thus the idea of the family our human bonds are familiar with. But though we have a similar appearance, we’re not humans, Yasha. The concept of a feien family is one innately foreign to feien nature. It’s something gleaned from human bonds. In conclusion, if you had no intention of seeing the idea through, there was no need to suggest it in the first place.” He sounded mildly upset.

"Hmm. Perhaps it's a personality difference, then." Yasha looked at him. "And you're putting more into my words than was intended, Simon. I didn't have 'no' intention of seeing the idea through, I said only that I wanted some information first. I'm still considering it." Yasha had, of course, not had a 'parent', so she had no frame of reference for it, but she had seen and admired the interaction between other parents and 'children', even when those offspring WERE born fully capable of looking after themselves. But, as Simon had pointed out, she wasn't going to have to feed and care for them, so if he decided to remove himself fully from the process, it wouldn't have any effect on HER choice to offer affection and attention to her offspring.

"I don't think the concept of 'family' in innately foreign to our nature, or we wouldn't have the ability to Bond to other feien as well as to our human," she finally said. "And I certainly count Shinobu as 'family', and treat him accordingly. However, your level of involvement with our offspring is your choice. I might also note that the breeding will create a bond between US, which is again something not to rush into without thinking it through. However, I think I am ready for a step like this, so if you're certain you are, then let us proceed."

All of the worry and upset went away. “I’m certain,” he said. He started to give further explanation, but decided not to. Her decision was enough.