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A selfish surge of solace flooded her mind as it became clear that this had little to do with ALICE's safety, and more to do with Otto himself. It was almost intoxicating enough for her to dismiss all of his concerns, to provide him with platitudes and a reminder to persevere, but there was a familiarity in his words that kept her planted firmly in place.

There were standard, default responses to emotional outbursts that Mimsy deployed when she deemed them necessary, typically distant and designed to perpetuate that barrier. This was what she had learned to ensure her survival (as she'd been told, at least), and while they were not always optimal, they did tend to be somewhat effective. But she had since learned all about the need to slow the stream of doubts that accompanied a lack of confidence in one's own intelligence, and that came as a direct result of ignoring the supposed necessity of maintaining any walls.

"Would you have difficulty," she slowly began, testing the waters, "accepting the notion that you are not meant to act, that you may not be required to do anything with it? What if you have been selected as the most trustworthy to carry it? Would you be opposed to bearing this anomalous gift for the entirety of your life? "

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Please be assured that I do understand how difficult the path towards making sense of a concept can be. It requires a tremendous amount of strength, and I have not always had that, especially during several unfortunate instances in my life. I can admit that I did not expect to survive them. But with this in mind..." She frowned, brow knit into an almost painful contortion, as if she'd encountered something uncomfortable. "What sits at the other end of that wait is worth all that preceded it. Worth every trial and failure, and every ounce of pain and weakness."

In any other context, her reaction might have been inescapably vitriolic at the repeated insistence that ALICE - a sentient avatar of her lifelong symbol of a pure, loving, human hope that she could never otherwise have - was cruel and manipulative. And she still might have responded in such a way, had he not chosen another note to end upon.

The rise and fall of her chest came more rapidly, her shallow breaths impossibly heavy. Her stare turned piercing, but not cold; it looked almost like she was hurt, and not that she intended to hurt him. The longer she stared, acknowledging the existence of these feelings of inadequacy by recounting his words in her mind, the more she wanted to go home--the more she felt like she needed to go home.

"Do you truly believe that?" The chill that was absent in her eyes was inadvertently present in her voice as the pleasantries dropped, leaving only her defaults behind for him. "Have you said these things because you are upset, or do you believe all that you have just told me in regards to yourself?"

A look of abject astonishment was directed towards him as Mimsy scoured her memories for any answer for why he had just done this. The closest conclusion she arrived at was formed of the compounded observations of children she'd gone to school with, who acted in ways she hadn't understood then, either.

It was a shame that she had not witnessed how another universe's Mimsy coped with her child's tantrums, because petting his hair certainly didn't fit as the solution here.

"It matters." The corners of her eyes twitched, as if she did not quite make it to the beady glare of scrutiny that had been almost reflexive. "It matters, because functionally emotional humans have a pervasive tendency to say what they do not mean in instances of escalated emotional response. I was imploring you to consider if this was the case."

The pause, and the blank stare that followed, implied that she thought he had still not thoroughly considered this.

"I will not insist that you should not be opposed to carrying this key." Even if it was physically painful to imagine rejecting anything from a being of multidimensional capability and incalculable power. "But strength is not measured by physical capability alone. You are strong to persevere. You are strong in your principles. You are strong for the sake of your relationships. I have repeatedly observed this."

I dare you to claim that I am incorrect, said her tone.

"So I require no apology, unless it may be accepted on behalf of those who consider you capable of exceptional, important feats, who believe as much in earnest for no benefit of their own, who have good in their life as a direct result of you." Meant for emphasis, the finger she jabbed towards him was harsh enough to seem more accusatory. "Not everyone has experienced this as readily as you have. This is not to say that you should feel fortunate - as with ALICE's decision, these are not relationships resulting from happenstance. The reason that you have these, this support, is you."

Her hands curled into fists, then dropped to hang listlessly at her sides. The only further motion that came from them was an anxiety-driven picking at her thumbnail. The longer she stood here, the farther she felt from her home, from all of the progress it represented; but that reminder of how effortlessly horrible that feeling could be was what encouraged her to prove her point.

"Otto, I--" She stopped and shook her head, out of sheer disbelief that she was even in the position to say any of this. "If you cannot trust me, trust those who have proven their love for you, despite every insistence in your mind that that they should not. Instead, you are allowing the disapproval of people who do not even value you as a human being to have a greater bearing on you than the people who love you. You. Not your work, or your accomplishments, or your talents. If you continue to prioritize in this way, then you are correct in your assessment that you will not survive. I will remind you that I know this fact very, very well."

The sharp, prickly edges of her demeanor began to deteriorate at his admission that he did not actually mean what he'd claimed, and Mimsy relaxed enough to accept and really listen to what he was saying, rather than storing it only long enough to negate and fling back at him.

"The environment created by Death Division's lead is not conducive to anything. It seeks efficiency through tactics proven inefficient on a long-term scale by valid research." She might have approached the irritating idiocy of the subject a few times before now. "The support and encouragement for my projects provided by my lead is directly responsible for my ability to successfully accomplish any of them. If Caelius were Life's lead, I would have left the division quite rapidly."

For each time he might have questioned why she was doing this, she questioned it tenfold - but she still couldn't stop. It might have felt a bit too much like leaving in the middle of class, halting instruction and walking off. That seemed reasonable, and not especially terrifying.

"Responsibility is frequently attached for fear or anxiety regardless, but you will not be reasonably faulted for shifting priorities over time. It is simply impossible to contribute your full attention to every task and every connection at all times."

Her fidgeting grew less self-destructive as her thumb brushed over her rings, idly turning them as she spoke.

"Life can be as simple or as complex as you wish for it to be." That was an odd statement in her voice, and she scoffed at herself because of it. "This may be unbelievable as the words of an astrophysicist, but it directly correlates with the aforementioned attention. Focusing on fewer options will greatly simplify your outlook. Focusing on all that you happen to cross, however, will contribute endless complexities. The rabbit hole never ends, Otto. You do not have to continue, but it does require turning back."

Comprehension again! The light that had flickered out of her eyes at the first hint of conflict returned in an instant, and she ensured the security of all six rings before she retrieved her notebook again. But it was not the empty pages she sought this time - she held it at arm's length, allowing him a glimpse of each page as she flipped through it.

"Yes, precisely," she agreed, still thumbing through the collection of data and formulas and inquiries. "Each of the problems in here are of varied importance, but I can solve none of them if I attempt them all at once. The answers would be incorrect, even if I were capable of it, as they began to overlap and combine."

The page she finally stopped on appeared (unsurprisingly) like rocket science, but was very clearly left unfinished.

"The word 'problem' does tend to have a negative perception, but it does not have to. Perhaps you could consider anything that requires work to progress through as a 'problem', for the sake of reminding yourself that a problem does have a solution. Some simply require more work than others, just as mathematical problems do."

Having offered her own methods and solutions for the other problems he'd presented, she was eager to offer them for the 'problem' of the key. But when she opened her mouth, the words that came out seemed something else entirely.

"Have you seen Clarice?"

A dream sounded par for the course, excepting the experience related to her by Robert, so Mimsy nodded once to confirm that this was what she was referencing by her question.

But that was where all signs of recognition in her expression ceased happening.

Just as she began to pry for an elaboration on what he might possibly mean by the use of the word 'taboo', he did elaborate. Clarice sought immortality too - but why? Was it as simple as her own desire for access to infinite time, and infinite potential as a result? If that were the case, why was she so willing to share this technology, as the plurality of 'hunters' indicated?

Further consideration was interrupted by the cynical gratitude she immediately felt for the fact that she had not accomplished this; if she had, Clerise might still be here. And Clarice would never have been absent, and she might never have...

"Goodness. I will also look into this," she murmured, and pretended to scrawl a reminder in the notebook as she penned what she'd begun to theorize. Before she got too carried away for a reminder to be believable, she closed the tiny book around the pen and glanced back up at him.

"And knowing this..." She hesitated, debating her own answer to the question she had not yet asked. "If the key unlocks the door that contains her...would you let her out?"

Reflexively, Mimsy began to correct him, and fell short before the first syllable could form. Which was it? Who had really visited them?

She'd needed it to be Clarice, because Robert needed it to be Clarice, but the likelihood that it was ALICE who sought a release from her prison was an equivalent one, if not higher. It would explain the dreams, and the girl was capable of twisting visual perceptions, but her choice of appearance made little sense. Surely she would have known that she found comfort in her default image...unless she was too weak to accomplish more than one illusion. But where had she retrieved the memories and knowledge of the woman, then?

"I...I apologize." One hand gently tapped her chest beneath her sternum as she cleared her throat, attempting to regain her footing - or appear to, at least. "I was referring to Clarice, but assurance is important nonetheless. You seem to comprehend the weight of her release as well, so I will not dwell upon that particular subject."

'I cannot' would have been more accurate.

There was a calculated restraint behind her eyes as she watched him, weighing the options of what he should and should not be told. She thought of the base they visited in the wake of Wonderland, of Otto's reactions to what they saw, and found it best to avoid the more physical interactions of her visit with 'Clarice'.

"I spoke with her too." Her gaze moved just past him, directed towards nothing in particular. "I would prefer to spare the details more personal to me, but I will divulge them if you truly believe that they are necessary. I digress; the relevance is potentially quite direct. When we spoke, she informed me that she could be found at the end of a quest - a quest in which there is an obstacle, and a key that removes it. That there is power within symbols, 'here most of all', which I presumed was in reference to our use of runes. You may think differently."

Then she waited, poised to pounce and devour any further details or insights that he might have.

'The kids had to collect red shards, that were in the hearts of... people.'

Shards, like the presumably emotion-based energy sources that had been gathered in Wonderland. Something physical within their hearts, just as she theorized so long ago. Something that could be extracted and claimed as her own, tangible evidence that she was a human too, capable of all of the human emotions she believed she felt.

And a heart existed behind a very familiar obstacle - a white cage, which a key a scalpel could allow her to access. Clarice showed her. She showed her exactly what was necessary, and she was proud, she was impossibly proud of her...

"The woman in the cage," she mused aloud, mind lingering on the thought of the heart. Without another word, she extended her hands in front of her, palms upward, as if she were asking for a game of patty-cake or a pair of high fives. If she wanted either of those things, she got neither, and was graced with a large red tome that bore the heart-shaped symbol of Destruction's legacy.

"It is an artifact," she hastily volunteered, hoping to avoid a more lengthy explanation for her magical book summoning ability. "I will return to the subject of the key momentarily, but...is it feasible that the one in the cage was representative of Destruction, if not Destruction herself?"

The book was energetically brandished towards him, its elegant cover and heart motif on display.

"She was caged!" She shook the book again, as if it were sentient somehow. "She was caged instance after instance, and it occurred again in Wonderland. You have undoubtedly uncovered a connection in any case - nightmares are the counterpart to dreams, and if ALICE was present, that connection is a simple one. I am curious if these settings and characters were selected for their widespread familiarity...their significance in our childhood memories, perhaps?"

Maybe she'd come on a bit too strong, Mimsy thought, having caught approximately two-thirds of his flinch from her view behind the book. She began to lower it, until he confirmed that he was almost positive that the caged one was indicative of Destruction; she curled her arms around it and hugged it to her chest instead.

"Good! This is is a strong connection to identify." Otto didn't look nearly as pleased with this as she did, so the signs of her positive reaction remained only in her tone, her expression soon reflecting his more serious demeanor.

"It is possible that these appearances were used in that sense, yes. If they are a direct result of humanity, it is reasonable that they could desire to more directly appeal to us." With a little scoff, she raised her brows and clutched the book more tightly. "This has a more widespread appeal than the figure of a man who is primarily skeletal, I suppose."

She frowned and dug her nails into the book's spine.

"You recall what was done to him." Everyone did, as far as she knew. "I do think that multiple keys may exist, and there may be multiple barriers to rid with them, and multiple entities to rescue as a result. Your theory that this may occur on a mission is one that should remain at the forefront of your thoughts when you do accept a mission. Despite any efforts at secrecy, you cannot predict what may occur on that 'quest'. If anyone - and I speak even of myself - requests or demands the release of Destruction...please recall what was done to him then."