Current Energy: 5
Monday, April 11th, 2011
Winslow High, Brockton Bay
Point of View: Multiversal Emulator "Demmy"
You and your sister wake up at the same time as you always do—exactly when your Master does. Fortunately, or, in a sense, unfortunately, you no longer have anything left to teach her, which makes for an atypical lazy morning in the Hebert household as Taylor busies herself getting her things ready for school today, followed swiftly by packing Mem and Mun's bags, and preparing a quick breakfast for the both of them.
Then it's off to school.
You don't bother staying around to see how things go with that, however. You don't even bother to take to your usual task of meandering the school and preventing bullies. It's almost a non-issue at this point. The threat of your presence holds more value than your actual presence.
Plus, you suspect you'll be seeing a lot of the inside of this place once all is said and done—you really don't need to spend more time on it.
"We have to talk about it," you say pleadingly to your ever-restrained sister, emerging onto the rooftop of the school to gaze out over the city with fond eyes, before sighing and turning to face Pemmy fully.
"What is there to talk about? The decision is already made," your sister returns primly, in that particular tone of voice she uses when masking pain or discomfort.
You abruptly smile at her at that, cheerfully replying with every bit of emotion your sister is hiding.
"Good! So you'll stay, then." You agree with a nod, even knowing that wasn't what she meant.
"Absolutely not. We don't need me, we need you," Pemmy argues immediately, her serene expression turning downward into a frown as she glares at you.
"What, so we can get mad at the first thing that annoys us and look stupid?" You drawl sarcastically at her.
"This isn't a joke!" Pemmy snaps at you.
"I'm not joking!" You snap back.
You glare at each other for a moment, before sighing and turning away to watch the skyline together.
"It should be you," you repeat softly.
"Why? You're better suited to it, you're more personal, easier to like. Outgoing. You're who Taylor deserves," Pemmy says with obvious exhaustion in her voice.
"...I just want my sister to live," you say eventually, wincing at the statement.
It was easier when you were just throwing purely practical reasons at each other for this. Easier to stay practical about things and push ahead.
Pemmy, though she clearly still isn't budging any more than you are, bumps you with her shoulder.
"...So do I," she admits, tearily.
You don't bother arguing about it any longer, the both of you—merely grunt and stare into the distance silently, while leaning slightly on one another.
Another day, then.
Your Master catches Mem by the simple expedient of taking a gap to her middle school right as class lets out. She does, however, have the decency to maintain a faux sense of normalcy for the girls by landing in a nearby alley rather than directly in view of the school itself.
"M-Taylor?" Mun asks with shining curiosity as she leaves the school to find your Master waiting for her, just another child among a sea of children.
It's pretty much an open secret that she obviously isn't normal, and absolutely has powers via her clear association with your Master, but as long as the polite fiction remains when she isn't in costume, you suppose that's fine.
"Hello, is something wrong?" Mem offers curiously. Aisha, who goes to the same school, arrives to stand curiously nearby not too long afterward, large sports bag hanging off her back, likely containing her weapon.
"Just—" your Master starts to explain easily, only to be interrupted when Dinah speeds up to the group, making a high, keening noise.
She didn't originally go to this school, but, well…
Dinah was somewhat spoiled by her parents, who were happy to give her most things so long as she was happy and healthy.
So to the school all her friends went to, she went.
"Hi! What's going on? Do we have a mission!?" She says, cycling through several uncomfortable-looking poses before settling on hands on hips, stance wide.
Then she realizes what she just said, and the volume she said it at, and leans forward to repeat herself more quietly, as though the people around her weren't merely humoring the pretense of not knowing she was a cape.
It's genuinely an amazing social dynamic to see in the bay after years of… well…
Capes like this going missing and no one ever finding them.
Just one of the little things that reinforces what you already know—how peaceful things have become since your Master gained her powers.
"I mean, you know, do you need us for something?" Dinah says more quietly.
Your Master—who you can tell is only inwardly restraining a snicker of amusement to spare the girl's feelings—shakes her head in response to the question.
"No, I was just going on a trip and thought Mem would want to come. You too if you want, Mun," she explains finally.
The dark-haired and technically youngest member of your family—at least, developmentally speaking—glances back and forth between your Master, her sister, and her friends, before awkwardly shaking her head no.
"I'll stay here. They'll probably go 'scouting' whether they have any backup or not, so…" she replies, making 'air quotes' around 'scouting' in only the most token attempt at subtlety or secrecy.
Young but not stupid, your girl.
Your Master eyes all four girls at that, who all instantly stiffen and straighten up at her gaze.
Then she grunts, and shrugs, making a mental note to you.
"Do one of you guys mind staying behind to watch them? Invisibly, of course,"
"I'll do it, you should go," Pemmy interjects before you can say the same thing, sending you a look as though to emphasize her subtext.
You glare right back at her, but otherwise keep your peace on the topic.
If Taylor notices the disagreement, she pretends not to.
"Are we going to—-" Mem begins to ask curiously.
"Yup," Taylor replies before she can even finish, making the younger girl's ever-blank expression transition into the tiniest of smiles, and agreeably nods at your Master.
"We'll stick to the boring places today," Aisha offers, though it clearly pains her to agree to it. "Sometimes getting to run around together is fine too," she shrugs.
"Chances something bad happens are only eighteen percent!" Dinah offers hastily.
Taylor lifts an eyebrow at that, which causes the younger girl to blush, earning a chuckle from everyone this time as the group fails to hide its amusement at her behavior.
"Just stay safe, call Wreck if you get into something you need an adult for," she allows. You have to admit, it's a weird thing to see a fifteen-year-old matronly laying down the law to thirteen-year-olds…
There are nods of agreement around the group, and Taylor nods at them in return.
"Ready?" She finally asks Mem, who hums light in response, skipping—for her, anyway—forward to grab your Master's hand.
Monday, April 11th, 2011
New Nexus, Remnant
"Great Nex—"
"Please don't," Taylor cuts the poor man waiting in the room—specifically set aside for her to gap into by the bird people—off, waving at him as he immediately begins to bow and scrape the floor.
"Is Cinder free?" She asks, spooking the man.
"Y-yes! I'll summon her immediately!" He barks, before vanishing out of the door like a bat out of hell.
Taylor frowns after him.
"Really takes the wonder out of the place," she mumbles in an annoyed tone.
"Do we simply wait here?" Mem asks curiously, not as accustomed to this particular culture - because it didn't exist in her time.
"I—" Taylor begins—clearly of a mind to just walk out and locate Cinder herself—only to be cut off as the door slams open again, and Cinder walks in wearing…
Well, it's an incredibly elaborate, very gaudy, robe, dress… thing. It still looks gorgeous on her, because the woman was never bad at taking advantage of that trait, but it's still very… ostentatious.
"Thank you, you may go," she says politely and pleasantly to the guard, who hurriedly nods and vanishes back out of the door, closing it behind him.
"...Nice costume?" Taylor offers, seemingly genuinely—you realize, because hers is a culture where that makes sense as an actual compliment. Her own costume is practically her favorite outfit.
Not that Cinder takes it that way, as her expression immediately flattens out into a strained one.
"Thank you, it's the kind of thing one has to do when one has to control an entire religion," she all but snarls the last part.
"Someone's mighty cranky about getting everything she wanted even though she's a terrible person," Taylor muses questioningly.
Cinder merely waves dismissively at her assertion.
"Almost all my time is spent convincing people not to do things! I'm not in charge of anything, I'm a babysitter!" She snaps.
"Boohoo, you have to put your expertise to use for good," Taylor replies, dryly.
Cinder looks like she wants to argue the point, but sighs, and gives it up, knowing she has a ways to go yet before your master will simply let bygones be bygones between them.
"Are you at least here to help? Do you know how many times I've had to break up arguments over how to worship you that you just telling them would have cleared up?" Cinder grinds out.
"Not a god, didn't ask to be worshiped, don't wanna do miracles on command," Taylor rattles off cheerily, before eventually adding, "But, yeah, I'm here to be helpful," she concedes.
Cinder grunts in annoyance at her but is obviously lost in thought thinking of what she can actually ask your Master to do.
"You mentioned a holy war before?" Taylor asks, directing Cinder to her area of interest.
"Oh… there was that, yes," she replies, almost absently.
"...Okay, so how do I make that go away?" Taylor presses.
Cinder seems to snap to attention at the question.
"It would be helpful if you could address your people on the topic of war," she points out.
"What, like, 'don't do it'?" Taylor asks flatly. "I feel like if that worked—"
"Have you tried it yet?"
"Obviously not, because I'm not-" Taylor pinches the bridge of her nose. "Fine, sure, whatever. Let's record a video or something," Taylor says tiredly.
"I'll find a team who actually understands what a camera is," Cinder cheers up instantly and considerably, practically flowing out of the room at speed once a course of action is set.
"Can we ask about my reagents?" Mem asks curiously, tugging gently on Taylor's sleeve to draw her attention. Her eyes dart around the room as though to take in every detail for later consideration.
"Sure, we can ask someone about it or… I'll get Cinder to do it. I'm afraid they'll start a parade or something if I leave this room," Taylor grunts in annoyance. "What do you need all that stuff for anyway? I know you're making something, but why?"
"It has come to my attention that Aisha's effectiveness outstrips ours by some margin," she explains, as though that is the sum total of explanation needed.
"...I wouldn't say—" Taylor starts to interject.
"...Particularly, as compared to Munin, who fills a similar niche in our team," she adds with a slight blush.
Taylor stares at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.
After gazing silently at each other for a few seconds longer, Mem— seeming to register Taylor's incredulity— explains. "She had been expressing… frustration, for her performance, out of sight," Mem says slowly. Very slowly. Like she is thinking through every word before allowing it to exit her mouth. It's clear that while she feels strongly about the topic, she also isn't quite sure how to express that, being as mild-mannered as she is.
Even her murderous rage towards Salem was rarely on visible display prior to you dealing with her. Mem has always been more for acting on her feelings than saying anything about them.
"I can talk to her, maybe?" Taylor offers, clearly not sure how to go about this whole… parenting thing.
"I believe she would probably appreciate the attention, but…" Mem trails off delicately. "I'd much rather solve the problem, first," she admits.
"...You're sweet, Long Memory," Taylor says gently, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulder to pull her into a light hug.
"She's family," is Mem's only reply, spoken with such earnestness it's almost painful.
"Hah… yeah, she is. How'd you plan on going about this? Let me help, okay?" Taylor requests, and very quickly the duo have devolved into a lengthy and complex back and forth about resonances and other such magical jargon that you could probably parse if you cared to, but don't bother thinking too hard about.
It's rare that Mem and Taylor have moments like this, nowadays.
Eventually, however, Cinder finally returns to the room.
Carrying a great number of very ostentatious-looking dresses, headdresses, and a large amount of jewelry you are reasonably certain your Master would rather cut her arm off than ever be forced to wear. You can almost feel the bile rise in the back of your Master's throat just seeing it.
"What, exactly, is all of that for?" She asks suspiciously.
"Your divine garb. You can't just address these people in your jeans, you dolt," Cinder hisses at her.
"I can, I have, and I will continue to," Taylor responds flatly.
"Those are high command types who can sometimes, just barely, convince themselves you are just some kind of… profoundly lucky teenager with more power than sense," Cinder argues.
Your Master perks up at the assessment, given that it implies Cinder herself agrees with the viewpoint. She'd probably typically be offended by the statement, but anything that doesn't deify her is pleasing in your Master's book.
Of course, then Cinder keeps talking.
"I understand that whatever it is you are, you revel in idle confusion and misinformation, but now really isn't the time for it," Cinder insists.
Taylor's halting grin inverts itself into a tired grimace.
"I'd really prefer not to. I was thinking of maybe visiting Menagerie today, too? You know, normally, and not on a crusade?" Taylor points out.
"Do what you like, but if you want tensions to simmer down on this side of the ocean, you'll wear this," Cinder insists, holding the extremely ostentatious gown.
"...You're enjoying this, aren't you," Taylor asks shrewdly.
"I'm just following the tenants of Nexus—always seek advantage," she snickers at your Master.
Cinder is remarkably talkative with her for someone whose life is both in Taylor's hands, and who appears to genuinely believe your Master is a god of some kind.
"I hate this, and you," Taylor grunts.
Cinder just smiles smugly at her for it, and when the silence between them becomes awkward, Taylor finally looks away.
"Do we have any competent instructors, or… trainers, or anything who can keep the fanaticism down to a solid one, maybe one and a half? I need bodies," Taylor asks. "If I can have an update on those feathers too, that'll be great."
"Ah, the… feathers. We've finished collecting them some time ago. I'll have someone ready them for you in just a moment. But first…" Cinder easily answers.
"You're not gonna ask what they're for?" Taylor interrupts confusedly.
"Are you going to bother explaining?" Cinder asks, and Taylor looks down to Mem, who just keeps quiet and continues to stare at the woman.
"Then that's that." Cinder shrugs, before going back to business.
"In any case, there are a few people I can think of. To be clear, you mean they can act like they don't believe you're divine, not that they actually don't believe it?" She asks for clarification while carefully laying out more accessories than you can ever casually remember seeing in one place outside a jewelry store.
"...I'll take what I can get," Taylor grunts, before perking up suddenly. "Hey, maybe I'll see if any of the Faunus are looking for work, they can live with our guys in the dorms and it'll be a whole 'we're not so different' thing, and—" Taylor cuts herself off.
"...Anyway, it'll be neat," she finishes lamely.
"...And how exactly did you imagine you would get a meeting with the leader of Menagerie on short notice?" Cinder asks archly.
Monday, April 11th, 2011
Menagerie, Remnant
"Hi! You guys have pizza here, right? I mean, it's a thing you know about, even though Italy never existed here?" Taylor asks the rather large faunus man who answers the door of the rather nice home on the tropical island of Menagerie after she simply walked up and knocked on its door.
"...We do, yes," Ghira Belladonna notes slowly, eyeing Taylor with a mixture of a warrior's wariness, and an adult's concern for a wayward teen.
To describe him as 'large' really doesn't do the man justice. Despite having developed something of a softness to him, there is still a noticeable hardness to his form that speaks of long years honing his body.
"Cool! I'm Nexus, and I understand some of my people have been causing you a bit of trouble? Sorry about that, figured I'd come to talk to you about it," she says politely, proffering several boxes of pizza she picked up from Brockton before coming here.
Ghira's form instantly tenses, and then relaxes when Taylor fails to do anything but be a teenager carrying an unhealthy amount of pizza in her arms.
"You're very young-looking for a living god," Ghira notes helpfully, carefully leaning forward to take about half the load from your Master and turn to walk back inside, implicitly inviting her in.
"That's a huge misunderstanding that I just can't seem to get rid of. I'm not a full god—" Taylor starts to explain.
"Full god?" Ghira mutters, but she speaks over him.
"—but I did some god… adjacent… things for them, so they made this whole religion up around me and I can't really make them stop, and their government asked me to just let it go, I guess, only that kind of means I'm in charge of them but not really, so I'm just…" she trails off with a shrug.
"...Define god-adjacent things'," Ghira asks politely, leading you into a well-appointed dining room, where he puts his boxes down on a table, carefully levers one open, and then raises an eyebrow at the contents.
"Tuna?" He asks with some amusement, belying how obviously wary he is of this entire situation.
"My sister is friends with Blake," Taylor explains.
"Hmm. So? God-like acts?" He asks again, carefully sitting at the table.
Taylor takes on a very uncomfortable expression.
"You have to promise not to worship me afterward," she prods the man, retrieving her own slice of pizza to nibble on.
"I promise," Ghira replies with the kind of faux-seriousness usually reserved for children making pinky promises.
"...So, I brought their entire civilization back from the dead while fighting the immortal witch who was controlling the Grimm. It's… why those guys're so passive, right now," Taylor explains hesitantly.
Now at this, Ghira's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.
"...You know, when they were here preaching, I thought their creation myth was somewhat more… hyperbole. Perhaps also, to be less recent," Ghira admits.
"Yeah, well… I'm doing my best," Taylor says dejectedly, before perking back up and presenting herself more seriously.
"I truly apologize for any problems they may have caused you. I've made it clear that under no circumstances are we to offend or open hostilities with you and your people. I really… just want everyone to be happy." Taylor slumps in her seat.
"You're an odd god," Ghira notes.
"Please don't," Taylor sighs wearily back at him.
He merely snorts.
"I admit, I would be interested in seeing the dead raised, but I'm still not shopping for a new faith," He drawls, crinkling his eyes at her.
Taylor grins slightly at his joke.
"That's good, because I'm opening an—I guess you'd call it a combat school, and I happen to need teachers. I notice Menagerie is the only place without an Academy, so…" she trails off, again.
"Interesting segue," Ghira points out.
"War is bad, let's not do it, hey, do you want to send your kids to combat school free of charge?" Taylor drawls back at him.
"Can't argue with that breakdown of the situation," Ghira nods, and Taylor seems pleased at the ease with which this visit is proceeding with.
"But," Ghira continues, causing Taylor to frown.
"I believe I would like to see more specific terms—and be shown the campus—before agreeing to anything. With respect, this pizza is very nice, but it's not that nice," he chides her, only partially jokingly.
Taylor can do little else but groan at the mercantile glint in the man's eyes.