Welcome to Gaia! ::

Imnolu listened, nodding along and making the appropriate listening noises. Ooh, and Isidor would be free all summer, that was highly interesting. Imnolu had yet to find find himself a job that was little more than small cons he ran with Rylafein, so his summer would still likely be free...

"Oh! Well, nothing so formal and... institutional as yours," he answered, relaxed. "You see, most everyone got apprenticed in something. Lots of people would dabble with multiple odds and ends for jobs before choosing a master to teach them, like tailors and that kind of thing. Sometimes getting the master you want was a task and a half, because the application process for the best of the best is brutal. Like, I had an unfair advantage as the Senshi, right? Well, you'd think so, but I kept trying to get in with several different masters of string instruments, because I love playing music and storytelling, and I wanted the violin so bad, but I wasn't picky, because all string instruments are really cool to me, right, so—"

He caught himself rambling about himself and blushed, giving Isidor an embarrassed grin. "Eh, so, the process, totally ruthless among the best of the best. But, for the most part, people get into something that they were actually passionate about. The thing that gives them the zest for life. Their enthusiastic spark." His grin grew wider, joyful. "It's really cool. I wish I could take you to it. We did have education similar to, ah, the kindergarten thing you guys have, up to age thirteen-ish? Y'know, to learn general stuff. Then that's the start of the years of cycling through a few test apprenticeships to decide what you really like, and then you pull out the big guns to apply for apprenticeships with, say, oh, Alakah, he was one of the best hairstylists. If you got him for your wedding preparations, it was a miracle. And if you became one of his apprentices? Oh! The automatic prestige! Made me glad I wasn't one of the ones who liked hair stuff. Pellanryn, one of the most sought after chefs. And so on, you get the idea."

Imnolu nodded along to Isidor's conclusion, and prepared himself to answer more questions, explain more, happily ready to talk at length about his home and watch Isidor hungrily take it all in with those intelligent academic historian eyes of his.

Then a soft growl, a shift of movement, and Isidor was standing between Imnolu and youma.

"Isidor," he said, alarmed and looking around. Were they alone? Was anyone watching? Could he power up safely?

Before he could think about truly, the youma charged them, claws extended, and Imnolu had no more time to think.

Isidor’s bag arced through the air, but it never hit its target.

But then, it never hit them, either.

One second, they were on Earth, inches away from a hostile attack.

The next, they were standing in a foreign room, looking at a glowing orb hovering above a pedestal in the center of the room.

The fine, glittering mist swirled with less consistency than the moon but it was no less lustrous and no less beautiful.

The room they arrived in was a gentle white, though faded pastels hinted that there was once vibrant artwork painted on the walls. It wasn’t particularly large, but it somehow still felt like it went on forever. Or, maybe that was just how timeless it felt. Carved pillars stretched towards a distant ceiling, and every arch and angle seemed like a piece of artwork masquerading as architecture. Behind them, a great arched doorway opened up into a long hallway.

The room had so much personality for a space with no decorations, no furniture, no windows or doors.

They arrived together, but they weren’t alone.

A million tiny specs of light swirled, like a miniature galaxy and all its stars. With no face and no eyes, it still watched them.

And then, it spoke.

“That was very brave of you. You wouldn’t have stood a chance, of course, but it’s the effort that counts. Did you think you could beat that thing?”

Imnolu squeaked, not used to being randomly yanked from Earth by forces other than his own. He would immediately deny his squeaking if it was brought up, though.

It took him a moment to process what had happened. Isidor had jumped in front of him, tried to swing his bag at a youma and... what, kill it, probably? When Imnolu could've easily powered up and done it? He had the magical power, and Isidor... Isidor wanted to save him. The realization caused a hot flush to spread across his entire body and he bit his tongue to hold back anything that might've wanted to pop out of his mouth.

Isidor was a hero.

He watched the specks of light with fascination, curious. What was this? The space reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember. Mostly, he focused on Isidor, tried not to look as lovesick as he (still half-guiltily) felt, and listened.

"You were protecting me. Even though I'm the one that should've done. I've got the magic, and you... You just did it. Without thinking. That was very brave." I could kiss you for it, he thought.

Isidor felt...he wasn't sure, exactly. Surprise? Confusion? Something in the middle? The fact that some magical entity was directly addressing him, had called him here because it saw something desirable in him....

It felt...It felt unreal. He looked, briefly, to Imnolu, as if his friend might have any further explanation, but it seemed not.

"Are you sure? Me?" Perhaps this...entity didn't realize exactly who it was asking for. But perhaps he shouldn't tell it. Perhaps he had been wrong--perhaps washed-up, divorced drunks did get to be magical, as long as they took opportunities when they showed up.

"I mean, yes. I'll listen. As long as you're certain."

It wouldn’t have been accurate to say that the Code was judging Inmolu, but there was a certain degree of exasperation, tempered only by the palpable acceptance that followed.

“Now is no time for modesty. Of course I’m sure. I don’t make mistakes.”

There was a firm confidence, an unwavering conviction.

“There is no such thing as perfection. Strive to be your best, do your best, and that is enough. What is weak in you, I can make stronger. But I will not pretend like offering you this power isn’t dangerous. If you have it, you must wield it. There is a threat on Earth that needs to be combatted.”

The Code sparked with energy, not with any sort of threat, but simply as if to show that there was a power within it waiting to be awakened.

“But if you wish to protect those most important to you, you will need the strength to do so. And in exchange, you will protect me, too. I will give you a piece of my power, to claim as your own, and I will give you a small space to protect here on the Moon. There is magic here, and I will share that with you if you ask for it. Shall I go on or have I scared you off? You may ask questions.”