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Backdated to Halloween

Classes were thankfully completed for the day, even if it was only rush hour. There was no point in dragging out the last of them the full time, and he'd had Schach's blessings to make it an early day- even if the credit hours were being paid for, not a one of the students was present in mind or cared to cover material. They wanted to go to parties, or clubs, or other foolishness. The secondary benefit being that he had very little to take back to the office, walking in slow procession across the south mall to the faculty building. The spooky-themed bonus quiz slide real was singular, compared to the usual three boxes. The quiz sheets fit nicely into the box, so they didn't make a nuisance of fluttering about or needing separate folder.

How Alois walks around with half a ....shirt-jacket thing in fall and winter is a mystery. The open half of his chest and stomach were cold. February in such a uniform was bleak prophecy. The half that was covered at least had the benefit of lining, otherwise leather wasn't particularly warm on its own either. The plague mask made it difficult to see where he was walking, which would have been a problem with the skirts if he wasn't already used to navigating locomotion in stone platforms with a ridiculous train-skirt-sash of his own. The will of the universe does not make efficient uniforms.

Billowing colours of some costumes on the opposite side of the mall drew his attention and progress to a halt, and Quenton stood motionless to watch as a group of laughing, happy girls dressed as questionable representations of the Greek Pantheon chased each other from one of the dorms to the express food court. Their laughter looked to keep them warm. They had the energy of freshmen. Probably new just this August.

As the girls went, his attention was drawn to more motion, another girl. No costume, plainly no part of the other group. She'd dropped? thrown? her book. That is terror. Unadulterated terror. She's looking right at me. She recognizes this uniform.

After a few days and so many classes with no recognition at all, he hadn't expected to find any at all. He couldn't tell if it was good or bad that it paid off after all. Quenton moved decisively, long strides on tall legs eating up distance at a fast-clipped walk. He didn't bother with pretending subterfuge or attention elsewhere, making straightest path across grass and sidewalks both. She isn't familiar. Civilian Victim? Senshi? Knight? Agent-? The other agents are as often just as frightened of him.

He stopped out of arms reach, small consolation to the plain terror. He didn't want to have to call an ambulance for scaring another student into a heart attack. "Guten Abend, Fräulein."

He tracked her eyes in their searching, the flashing of her throat and the clutching hand at her pocket. What are you grabbing for? Taser? Henshin Pen? Whatever Knights or Agents even use?

"Lying is sometimes necessary, but in this case foolish. Dispense with it; your initial panic already says you know exactly who I am dressed as. Your seaching eyes show you know its dressed as. The differences are notable between the reality and the counterfeit. "

"The question is who we both are. " He lifted his hand to remove the mask, no threads of tar keeping it attached- just clear hooks that had sat like glasses over ears hidden by his wind-touseled, black hair. The war paint beneath was true to form, excepting the scar that marred beneath it on cheek and then had no disguising black where it crossed his mouth. "What are you reaching for so desperately in your pocket? "

'The Earth laughs in flowers', Emerson came to mind in a single line disjointed from the rest, indifferent to the switchblade so familiar in the hands of one wholly not.

Ida. 'Orah.' Ah, the tremors and emotionality find reason and purchase. And why my name should mean anything to her. Mimicking the accent was an entertaining challenge, probably less crisp without living together so much as their singular month. Alois' cadence and inflections were oft echoing in some portion of his mind, though, like the walls of the fortifications had become stone tapes of the hands that helped to build them. A turn of wrists and hands in a theatrical gesture allowed him to seamlessly get the rings hidden against his upper palms onto fingers to pull the rigging and flare open the wings in concert with a grander motion, "I'f found zat when I haf' to hunt for prey, zis face is efficient to wear."

Then the accent dropped, "It caught you out, after all. A dangerous game, but no more than what I already play with my living arrangements. The more attention I draw, the less there is on other sources. "

"I've been at DCU for years now; I will be graduating. I'm surprised to see you here."

"You assume I do so to tease you to begin with, as opposed to just entertain myself or to give a show of costume as excuse to other passersby for your plain discomfort. We are in public. Also that I am inclined weigh kindness as a necessity. You asked a question. I answered." Shifting to a more normal posture brought the wings down again.

"Further inquiry and interrogation, naturally, if you hadn't recognized me. If you hadn't chosen to identify yourself. If we parted ways without identifications, I would have cross referenced the information with as many sources as I have to try to determine if you were a mirror senshi or agent. "
Set up a system of monitoring with Faust, most likely. Maybe asked for help from Penthe, Cybele, Megrez...any others that have indicated they will do what they must if you'd turned out to be an agent.

"Fishing. Hunting, as I said. Many 'ifs' that don't matter- you are you. We need not wear war paint of our own to find or face our enemies." He watched the wordless worrying of the text.

"Only a nurse and not a doctor? Though all branches of the medical profession are needed in most walks of life."

"The dreams still trouble you?" Else why the high-bound nerves, tired face, and distracted attention.

"Anatomy and Physiology I and II are typically gatekeeper courses- usually a 50% or more fail rate. Take photos or life drawing sketches and overlay tracing paper on them. Then draw out the anatomy on the unusual poses. It will help your mind better grasp how things interlock and move with the three dimensional form and everything above and below each layer. " It was a technique from art, but a good one used time out of mind from when artists and anatomists were not different.

Defiance, anger, annoyance, maybe a mix of those or more were plain in her tone, shoulders and jaw. It was better than cowering and mewling. The extra emphasis on 'memories' was purposeful, but just came off overblown. Still no more than an opinion. But 'everyone' she's talked to- a number would have served better than generalizations thrown around like they're half accusations. 'Memories' of a 'future' that all fall out the same between more than two people though. Alois, the other side, included.
And I an outlier. I don't much sleep. I meant to conduct that experiment of it. If I sleep enough days in a row, and there are no 'memories', what hypothesis can be made of that? It's hard to sleep now, a body grown a bad habit of an consistent behaviour. That assumes also the futures and destinies are predetermined all. Can we follow that assumption?

"Maybe something has already altered to the general prescience and I'm no part of this 'future', therefore needing no waste of energy to warn." The tone was unperturbed. Death is one explanation. Capture? Corruption? Ceasing to power up? What if it is a magic or effect of enemies, or allies? Haven't been exposed to the source? Haven't 'caught' the bug? Maybe it is related to some history of the Silver Millennium? I know nothing about the asteroid I bear name to. And no names or numbers of her 'everyone'. The cause hasn't even been determined for why any of these dreams and nightmares and visions came.

Oil and water here, though, and no good for further answers. Boon come of it- I now know Orah as Ida, and can keep out of her way more effectively. Or find her on some need of Alois'. If it come to that.

"I'll keep looking for answers, if there are any. " Quenton nodded to her, precise as a clockwork, "Have a better holiday, Orah. "