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((Enter Lady Chaos from Unknown))

Zira wasn't really sure where she'd ended up. One moment she was a snarling, spitting thing of pure rage, and the next moment she had teleported herself to a place where chaos actually didn't work. Where she didn't work. There was nothing but strictly imposed, carefully regulated order, right down to the molecular level. That hadn't been intentional. She'd never found herself in a place where she couldn't just immediately get herself out again. Nothing had ever been able to turn off her powers. Well, except Terry, but he cheated. Like a cheaty cheater.

...Terry.

Feeling weirdly solid and decidedly un-Godlike, Zira felt the sudden urge to curl up in a ball and hug her knees. With no one there witness her momentary lapse, she did. The strands of hair that fell forward into her face were silver as a safety-pin in this place, with none of the accompanying interplay of colors that she expected, none of the smokey translucence. It was too strange. She also didn't feel particularly crazy, which was (at that precise moment) the absolute LAST thing she wanted. Thinking clearly was painful, like trying to use a muscle that had atrophied.

That bomb had exploded right, RIGHT next to Terragon, hadn't it? That wasn't good. That was really, really not good. What if he... Well, there was theoretically no reason why she couldn't just bring him back again, except that if she tried to do it, if she really wanted it to happen, there was every chance that she would just fry his body with space lightning, or something.

"Not that I care," Zira told the absolute emptiness stubbornly. Her voice sounded very small, even to her. She hugged her knees tighter and closed her eyes. "Because I don't." I don't.

Goddesses of Chaos do not cry, of course. Well, sometimes they do, simply because they are batshit crazy, but they certainly have no reason to worry, or to mourn. So Zira did not cry. If she was quiet for a long, long time, and if her shoulders shook a little, she was simply napping. Dreaming. Nothing more.

((For now yes, and yes. Lets hope he doesn't figure it out. wink ))

[enter the Phantom Stranger]

Slowly, calmly, gently, a hand gloved in white descended upon her shoulder from behind her. The man it belonged to had appeared out of nowhere, and if Zira were to turn around, she would see a face, partly obscured by his fedora, but still exuding a great deal of calm.

"Zira..." the Phantom Stranger said, with no menace in his voice, no trace of emotion. The use of her title might've been recieved as more of a slap to the face in this environment, so he used her real name.

"No one is following me, Zira," the Stanger replied, walking around her until he stood in front of her, then kneeled, so that they were more or less eye-to-eye. "I am here because I am needed here. By you." He slowly removed his hat, and revealed what it always obscured: a bald head, and his eyes; ice blue in color, and filled with such sadness, such unspeakable misery and loneliness. They were filled with an eternity of suffering. "Outside of this plane, this pocket of space, we are enemies by the virture of what we stand for. Here, we are the same."

"No, you don't," the Stranger replied, "But you will. When the time comes, you will know that I, an agent of Order and Balance, have never born any ill will towards you directly, only what you represent as a goddess of Chaos. But until then, you will doubt. You will question. And though you may want to, you will not believe." Slowly, the Phantom Stranger replaced his hat upon his head. "I accept this fact, and am here nevertheless. Our paths have not crossed again by chance." Despite the shadow cast by his hat once again covering his eyes, one could still see them, vaguely, like some distant memory of a nearly-forgotten occurance of the worst agony: an agony of the heart, of faith.

"At the moment, I cannot," the Stranger said, actually looking sorry about the fact, "My power to directly interfere is dependant on the needs of the Universal balance. As the situation grows more dire, that could well become a possibility. And if it should come to pass, I will be there to help." He shifted around, so that now he was to her left, sitting cross-legged, with his hands in his lap. "However, the situation is not that far gone."

He then brought his arm around her, not romantically, but in comfort. "But one thing I can do, is stay here until either you are freed, or until the Universe pulls me to somewhere I'm more needed. I have no control over that, but I will be here as long as I am able."

"If it makes you feel any better," the Stranger continued, hoping to take Zira's mind off of her obvious awkwardness in this situation, "The Spectre's tried to kill me numerous times. It would appear that he feels my current punishment is far too light."