Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a lovely evening, by Lucette’s measure. The strange purple storms still crackled through the sky, but they were fascinating, lighting the city strange and lovely. And, honestly…Preston had asked her to meet him in the evening, in a quiet little park near campus, and an evening with Preston was always a joy.

She waited at a picnic table, watching the sky in fascinated awe. Purple lightning cackled through the clouds, and wind picked up her hair, and she sighed contentedly. If the storm broke, that might just make the evening especially interesting. She’d heard some of the other students gossiping about strange effects, and, frankly, she wanted to see them herself.

Any kind of abnormal phenomena held her attention, after all. She was a woman of science, but she was also quite confident that there was more in this world than could be dreamt of in the most simple, grounded terms. Destiny City itself was a hotbed for the kinds of phenomena that made her more than certain of that assessment; there were too many strange things in this city to brush all of them off as mere coincidence. And if these storms were yet another such phenomenon, then she was eager to track down more information about them.

Alas, no such luck yet.

What started as an evening of playing piano while Aloysius graded had turned into a much more interesting night. While she normally had been able to sneak towards one of the mirrors to have Liam reach out to bring her home after her glamour for the evening had run out, tonight she'd been spotted by someone who knew what she was. At least it wasn't someone bothersome and honestly, the prospect of having another possible corrupt senshi to help bring in had her making her way through the halls after checking in with her musician.

Once she'd let Aloysius know, she slunk across to the park and eyed the pair. This would be much more of a cakewalk than her other side project, that volatile alien woman she'd been leaving little books and gifts for on the doorstep of that disgustingly condemned victorian they'd holed up in.

Coming up from behind, she eyed Preston before coming up and thumping her side into the young woman's leg. Letting out a happy little trill, she moved under the table before thumping her tail twice against the man's leg to let him know a GK would be needed. She'd wait for them to change the topic, since he'd reached out to her for help instead of her finding the girl ahead of time. It was only polite and it sounded like they were having sweets, something she knew would be rude to interrupt more than she had before she settled on the woman's feet and started to purr.

Preston did not blush about Lucette being excited to see him. His cheeks did not feel warm or turn pink, and he definitely did not get any awkward, fluttering feelings in his chest about either her lovely smile or the positive response to the treats he’d made for her. (All of these things happened. Every single one. But if Preston simply ignored that, then he didn’t need to address any allegations that he might have done something “cute”).

(He did, however, feel exceptionally……pink, and bright, and shimmering inside, when she showed her appreciation for the gift of tiny pastries, and said that he always knew how to make her feel special.…… Not that Preston had any experience with anyone else—Brassite was too young and more like a sister anyway; Jupiter Butterfly was a trusted friend but not someone for whom he’d ever felt something romantic; Halia Westfein was an old friend only recently found again; Amazonite was his General and a role-model—but during their entanglement with one another, Lucette had fast come to eclipse and predominate the whole of her gender. And he wanted her to feel as special as she was.)

That would have been true even without feeling the two telltale thumps against his leg that Desiree had told him to wait for. Preston’s heart skipped a beat at that, and he almost managed a proper smile when Lucette picked up the Mauvian in question, eagerly lavishing affection on Desiree. The only unfortunate thing was: trying to transition the conversation into the serious business that Preston had in mind, when there were so many reasons for Lucette to distrust him about it.

“There are many questions wrapped up in what I wish to discuss, yes,” Preston said, resting his elbows on the table and lacing up his fingers without entirely pressing his palms together. For a moment, as he considered his words and how to proceed, he rested his upper lip against his index fingers. The streetlamp above them glinted off his glasses lenses, not quite a full glare but at least adjacent to that. “Lucette, I care for you. Very deeply. And I know you are perceptive enough to have noticed several of the odd occurrences around this city. The danger is too great to overstate, but I have long believed that you would flourish with a group that I belong to. The cat in your lap seems to agree.”

This was difficult. Also, more talking than Preston generally did under most circumstances. And now, he needed to transition into the more difficult part where he didn’t entirely understand what he’d need to speak on.

“Desiree here has identified you as someone very special,” he said, entirely uncertain how he could sound so calm while inside, he felt like a hurricane of nerves. “She can probably explain better if you would like? But your soul is one of immense power. With the power of one of my group’s leaders, Desiree can help you to unlock that potential……if that is something you would want?”

Oh.

As a child, Lucette had fantasized about being special. About being magical. Most children did, she thought. Most, however, did not have the opportunity placed before them to fulfill that fantasy. A gift from the boy she adored and a magical talking cat, which felt like a strange sort of whimsy and an especially amazing way for all of this to come together.

"Yes," she said, without a moment of hesitation. She trusted Preston; he wouldn't lie to her or lead her astray, and the fact that the cat was actually speaking to her seemed to be firm evidence that this was not all in her head, or a prank (Preston would never, anyway), or anything like that.

"Yes, I want that. Please. What do I need to do?"

Besides bestowing pets on the cat in her lap, which she did, gentle and respectful, because that seemed the right thing to do when a talking cat was being so affectionate.