[b]Canada![/b]

The sound of Shamash’s laughter is uncomfortable. It’s wheezing electronica in good humor, but all it needs is a gentle push and it’d plummet down into unhinged mania. Like, this vibe is [i]seriously unhealthy.[/i] Is this an Emperor’s New Clothes thing, like, where the Annunaki are desperately trying to convince themselves this giant wrecking ball is a stable genius?

“Don’t let Sister Ishtar hear you say that!” Their jovial backslap nearly knocks you off your feet. Luckily, the thews of Canada Taliv are dauntless! “She’d rip your spine out. What do you think, honored one?” Their attention falls on the Huntsman of Caphtor, heavy as lead. “Should I rip her spine out? Is that in [i]fashion[/i]?”

“Whatever you deem worthy, Exalted One of the Higher Airs,” Asahel says bleakly. “As you will, so shall it be done.”

“I’ll take her eyes,” Shamash says, breezily. Have they forgotten you’re standing right there? “So she can’t [i]look[/i] any more. Like we haven’t fought the Zhianku ever since they tried to hide their home from [i]our[/i] sight. Like we don’t know when we’re [i]looked[/i] at.”

They are one loose hinge away from absolutely unhinged. And everyone ignores it.

Shift your Dangerous down and your Mundane up, or reject their influence; their every word tells you that your only way out is by diverting them somehow, not fighting them head on.

***

[b]Daisy![/b]

You’re not supposed to be down here. And it’s a terrible idea, anyway. For all you know, that [i]thing[/i] is actually some alien parasite and it’s planting bug eggs inside the Annunaki right now.

But what kind of space parasite can sing [i]La Marseillaise[/i]?

“Hello?” Your strangled half-whisper is simultaneously way too loud and stupidly quiet. And what are you supposed to say, anyway? [i]Hello, Miss Shadow Monster, if you’re eating Annunaki I have a LIST? Hello, Miss Freaky Alien, you don’t eat humans, right?[/i]

“If you’re down here,” you say at the dark, “I want to talk to you!”

***

[b]Anathet![/b]

It’s like your helpful explanations are slices of salami slapping against a brick wall as Tia roots through those memories of a happy date. She turns an interesting shade of burgundy and lets out a strangled psychic hiss that crescendos into an explosion of impossible broken angles and corrupted data. You almost manage to not look away. Almost.

Through the psychic buzz of Tia’s tantrum (and of course she’s gone, again, having stamped her foot and fragmented) you realize that the light levels are changing. The library shutters are closing! You grab at your rift generator, which happily throbs its “emergency reboot in progress” indicator.

Tia (accidentally?) alerted the Annunaki there was someone here, because you’d have to be a rock not to get the backwash of that psychic tantrum, and you’ve got maybe a minute before household janissaries start investigating the stacks. And you are [i]definitely[/i] not supposed to be in here.