Lemons

Lem's Stash

O L I V I A S E R A L I A
O L I V I A S E R A L I A

^{"Ah! I missed a spot! I'm sorry, please, give me a moment!"}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ The chronically-sleepy Amie Mothwax has a tendency to appear stoic and emotionless, eyes blank and unfeeling. She speaks relatively little, and when she does, it's usually flat in its affect. You could be forgiven for thinking she has no emotions at all. Which, of course, is quite far from the truth. She has an emotional range that's plenty broad, just as much as anybody else. What she doesn't have is a particularly good way of displaying that range. While those that don't know her wonder if perhaps she's been abused and that's why, that couldn't be more wrong. She's just...like this. --- "I love you so much, my little light." It feels like it's been a lifetime since then. "Oh wow, Shysca, did you bake that all on your own?" Like a whole world has come and gone in the time it took to blink the memories back behind her eyes. "Of course daddy is proud of you, my little light. How could he not be?" ...Had it really only been ten years? The cool morning air smelled of the past. Of early morning dew and early spring frost. Of strawberry pastries and pinecones, and the wide bank of the river. It smelled of the stones that she used to skip over the gray water. She breathed deep and closed her eyes, savoring this old simple joy, and all thoughts of guilt and redemption evaporated like mist in the sun as she walked lightly through Ardenfel like a great weight was gone, like she'd never known it was there. As she walked, she saw the children that she knew so well. Danyl on the other side of the street. Lyndii would be reading, probably, even on a day like this. A kind of foolish pleasure seeped through her as she smiled. Mary walking in the other direction towards her and her heart swelled. She opened her mouth to call out when another smell undercut the blissful haze. Smoke? She blinked, and the world was suddenly a blur. Fire. Steel. Screaming that she didn't realize was her. She looked around frantically and found everyone gone except Mary. And as soon as she started towards her, her hands ignited in searing pain. She looked down in panic and found them livid with a seething white radiance that soon spread over the rest of her body as she fell to the ground, twisting in agony. She looked up, trying to find MARY again through the white light,a nd onl y f oun d h e r s e l f--

C H I L D H O O D I N A R D E N F E L D C H I L D H O O D I N A R D E N F E L D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Mr. and Mrs. Yarrel and Talulah Celicantha (but please, call her Lulah) were fond of calling themselves the best bakers in Ardenfel. And they were very, very good at it; people would walk from the other side of the village to avail themselves of a fresh hot loaf, or a fruit pie baked to perfection. They were masters of their crafts; and though they were small town bakers that obviously didn't know how to make the delicate pastries that you might see in the big city, they were no less skilled for it. But then everything changed, once their daughter was born. Even Lulah didn't know that she had elven heritage. And Yarrel certainly had no idea at all; having hair that pale was unusual, but not impossible, obviously. Not until Shysca's birth. The hair that later grew on her head could be excused just like the mother's. The slightly oddly-colored eyes could be played off in any number of ways. Every odd quirk of her appearance could be explained away, save one. There was no getting around the sharply pointed ears. And Yarrel did not appreciate the idea of there being elf in his family. Talulah loved Shysca enough for both parents, and made sure she grew up knowing that she was loved. But as she aged and her elven traits became more distinct, well, Yarrel grew what you might call...distant. He didn't grow violent, not until she was ten or eleven, when Talulah started to take ill. But moreso he just...neglected her.I t was like she'd lost her dad. Or, more accurately, like she'd never had one at all. Like she was a ghost to him. And so her mother's kindness became the most important thing in her life, and she began to mantle it. From that point on, she tried her best to be something like a mother--or, more likely, an older sister--to all the other kids in Ardenfel, or at least the ones she knew. After all, maybe if she acted like mommy then daddy would listen to her, right? No. Obviously. Once Yarrel started hitting her, that smile came less often. But, given she was in her double digits, that certainly wasn't the worst thing that would happen soon,would it? Because then, the bandits came. L I F E A T T H E O R P H A N A G E L I F E A T T H E O R P H A N A G E ________________________________________________________________________________________ In the Landeil orphanage, though...the smile came back in full force. It needed to be. She knew these kids. She'd played with them in the street. She'd patched them up after they'd scraped their knees. She'd heard them talking about their parents. She knew those kids; she loved those kids. And what those kids didn't need was another person crying. They needed someone they knew to turn to, she thought. She didn't know what the family who owned the orphanage were like when she first got there, so, quite simply, she devoted herself wholeheartedly to making everyone's lives better. She threw herself into it and didn't look back. All smiles, all the time. She comforted Mary when she had nightmares. She tried to talk things through with Teth, even when she didn't want to listen. She spent hours around Danyl; he always seemed to lean on her so much, after all. She spent a whole year like that. It wasn't a particularly good life. It CERTAINLY wasn't a comfortable one. But it was all that she needed in the end, right? Even after Mary ran away, leaving Shysca's hands and lower forearms marred with a large and encompassing burn that turned into a painful scar, even then, she kept trying. There were still kids that needed her help. But then the Church of the Virtuous Mother stopped nearby. She didn't know much about them. Didn't know anything, really. But just out of curiosity, she went to listen to the sermon. Just once wouldn't hurt, right? And then Shysca was transfixed. She fell hard, and fast. All thoughts of responsibility fled her mind as she heard them preach, and she felt a fire stoke in her heart. After the sermon, she approached them and explained: she had just come to hear them speak, she felt as though she'd been born anew. She lived in the nearby orphanage, could she leave with the and join the Church? And they acquiesced and lifted her out of the orphanage to return to their monastery with them, and live her life anew. O N W A R D: A N E W P A T H O N W A R D: A N E W P A T H ________________________________________________________________________________________ It was in the Church of the Virtuous Mother--a monastery high in the mountains, a long way away--that Shysca first learned of the Divine Aeter, the grand embodiment of all light and purity in the universe. And though she had some doubt at first, she became something of a zealot in a relatively short period of time. The Virtuous Mother and, by extension, the Divine Aether became beloved in her eyes. An idol. And the problem with idols is that you stop really thinking about what they're doing. Over the past ten years, there are numerous times that Shysca, using her newly-learnt holy divine magic, 'brought nonbelievers into the Divine Aeter's light' in the most permanent way possible. Things that she would've balked at not long ago, she barely noticed, she was so thoroughly indoctrinated into this cult. It was like she had only half a mind of her own. Word has begun to spread about her, slowly spreading through pockets of people: stories of the wrathful black-clad cleric with the burn-scarred hands. Though...she did keep one secret from the Virtuous Mother. When Mary had fled the orphanage, Shysca had seen horns on her head. She'd seen the phantasmal flames that had writhed around her in her sleep back then. She knew that there was something demonic going on with her. She should report it, and she should be brought into the Divine Aeter's light. But... But she couldn't. It just felt wrong. Not long ago, she remembered something that she'd nearly forgotten. Old friends. A promise to meet. People--children then--whose faces she could still see ever so clearly in her mind's eye. And as she thought about their smiles, she felt a revulsion rise in her throat. Would they ever smile at her like that if they knew that she had killed? With no warning to the Virtuous Mother, she dropped the amulet that marked her as a member of the Church into a mountain chasm beside the monastery, replaced her black church robe with a dress of pure white, then fled off into the night to return to her old home, see the old faces. Perhaps it is only when she does that she'll resolve the crisis of faith that swirls inside her skull, and the horrible nightmares that have again to begun to plague her will perhaps abate. The Church is behind. The road awaits.

---

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn couldn't help it: as soon as Dahlia turned her camera on, she pulled in a sudden breath through her teeth and her nascent giggle died. A smile stayed on her face, but it was a smile of both joy and of concern. She'd seen Dahlia pushing herself too hard before. She'd seen it plenty.

But it had never looked like this.

Her skin was pulled taut over her face. Her eyes were sunken and red; not bloodshot, but close. She hadn't washed her hair in how knew how long. And, unless Quinn was mistaken, the thing she was leaning back against was the side of a sim pod.

Well, at least Dahlia seemed aware of it. Soap and nap? Yes, absolutely, she needed soap and a nap desperately. But be that as it may, she needed more than that. Quinn knew that her sister was very good at reading here emotions, the way she always seemed to be able to see what she was thinking was proof enough of that. But, though it came into play only rarely, the opposite was also true. Quinn had seen Dahlia tearing herself apart enough times to know what it looked like when she was imploding into a spiral. Perhaps it had to do with Runa placing their entire survival squarely on her teenage shoulders from the time she was a child, Quinn didn't know. But she was obsessive--dangerously so--about always being ready to protect. And her arrival...really hadn't helped that complex.

She let Dahlia finish, let her face become something like a smile than the grimace it so often seemed to look nowadays. Then, after a pregnant silence (or at least she felt like it was) she spoke again.

"Deelie." She hesitated a moment. "Can I set you a rule?"

A lack of immediate refusal was all she needed to push on, and as she did, her voice grew stronger, more certain. More forceful. "Your new rule is, the longest you can sim is how long you slept. No more twelve hour days unless you get twelve hours of sleep. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Promise me. Right now."

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

一 色 み か こ - I S S H I K I M I K A K O
一 色 み か こ - I S S H I K I M I K A K O

---

The time crawled by at a snail's pace for Mikako. She wanted to talk to Suzuka. She wanted to talk to Suzuka so much. But it seemed like the world was actively conspiring her doing so. Whenever there was a spare minute, someone else would approach her for some reason. Would she be there that afternoon for broadcasting club? Of course she would, she told Reiko, what kind of vice president would she be if she didn't? What about kendo club? She couldn't be there the whole time, but of course she'd show up, Minato. It wasn't quite as important, since, after all, she wasn't much of a player there, but of course she'd make time. Did she want to get a celebratory meal after school? No, sorry, she told Kyouko, she need to stay after for longer because of the first student council meeting, and she was busy after that. An barrage of questions that left her no spare time.

It wasn't that she didn't value the people in her classes or clubs, quite the opposite. But at that exact moment, all she wanted to do was celebrate the fact that Suzuka was back in her life. But as she dutifully scratched down notes for another class, it would seem that chance wouldn't come until lunchtime. And lunchtime was SO FAR AWAY!

It felt like years had passed by the time the last morning class had ground to a halt and it was finally, finally time. So she pulled her gleaming bento--the lacquer polished until it shone--and chopstick case from her bookbag and placed them delicately on her desk. But simply in doing so, she realized by the sudden chorus of voices that it was too late: the Transfer Student Inquisition had reached her first.

Before Mikako could so much as say a word, a wall of people had divided her from Suzuka. She craned her neck in some frustration, trying to peer through the gaps between to see Suzuka's reaction. Undoubtedly, it wouldn't be--

"So noisy. Wouldja mind going one at a time? Y'all are makin' my head hurt."

Ah. Wouldn't be the most tactful of responses. But the resulting quiet gave Mikako the chance to FINALLY--

"Ohohoho, well-spoken indeed!"

Mikako's head jerked back to the front of the room, eyes wide open in the sudden deafening silence that had followed in Arashiyama-senpai's wake.

She wasn't exactly sure what the third-year had against her. Or, well, if she had something against her. She'd heard rumors from some of the people that spent a lot of time around Junko, but nothing from the woman herself. But...it was enough. It was something about the way she looked at her that made Mikako feel more self-conscious than most things could prompt. Consequently, she was a rather intimidating presence for the younger girl. No matter how out of her way she went to make friends, even if she'd never actually done a thing to Mikako, Arashiyama was someone that she did her best to avoid.

Like, for example, just then. As hard as it was to tear her eyes off her when she entered a room--she carried an undeniable presence--that also meant that everyone else's eyes were on her at the moment. And so as the dissatisfied crowd dissipated under the sheer force of her personality, Mikako was finally afforded access to Suzuka.

...Who currently had no food in front of her even though it was time for lunch, and was opening and closing her back like she was hoping the food fairies would come each time.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and with no preamble she transferred her bento and chopsticks to Suzuka's desk and followed it with a sunny smile, if just slightly strained. Because she could SWEAR Arashiyama's eyes were on her, in particular.

"Still forgetting your bento here and there, ne? You must be hungry after coming all the way down from Hokkaido. Made fresh this morning~!"

Umbra Rose Condos

_{Evening
Streets of Mantleville
Interacting with: @Massasauga Rebecca @CitrusArms Yumeiko no Yumi-chan}

---

What was my name before, huh? She remembered what it was, of course, there was no way she could ever forget. She'd even styled it as a middle name at some point. Still, she hadn't actually thought about it much recently, and her voice dropped a bit lower as she looked up at the sky, which was fading to twilight enough that the dim light no longer stung. "Alviva," she said. "My name was Alviva. Changed it when I started the whole queen of the night schtick because I wanted something opulent. Because I hadn't really seen what wealth looked like, I just went with what sounded fancy. But like I said, now I'm attached to it."

...Then she was violently wrenched back into the present by Yumi talking about her small, cute image and telling her that it'd work for her being a plushie queen. She sucked in a long, slow breath, letting a fang prick her lip to keep herself calm. She didn't mean it to be offensive. She is shorter than you. She's too genuine. She's trying to be nice. Do not yell at her. Don't. Not only would it accomplish nothing but a transient moment of catharsis, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it'd make Yumi-chan feel awful, she was too sweet and open not to. Which would then make her feel awful too, because it kinda sucked to make someone unhappy. Not to mention that she had no idea how Yumi-chan was linked to Yumeiko, who she honestly kinda wanted to be chill with at this point. Terrifying wellspring of divine power and relationship with somebody that hated her guts notwithstanding.

Ah. Yumi-chan was talking about ages, and Velvet was zoning out. She phased back into reality in time to hear Yumi-chan mention that Yumeiko was a few hundred years below Velvet, and that Miyuki was...Velvet raised an eyebrow in surprise. Being on the low end of her eighth century, she didn't often meet people older than her, and suddenly Miyuki's behavior (and power) made a lot more sense. Another two or three hundred years and she'd probably get unforgivingly pissed off at people for disrespecting her too. For a moment she reflected on what it might mean to be that old. Hell, she was kind of cheating already, she'd been asleep for over a century. What would she be like? How would she act? How would she change?

...A line of thinking that was instantly cut off as Yumi-chan reached out and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She stood poleaxed for a second, eyes blown wide open as she registered what was going on. She couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged her of their own volition, especially knowing what she was, and the feeling was totally alien. Still. After a moment passed, her eyes slid closed, and she slowly, carefully hugged back.

She was so wrapped up in the moment that she didn't even whisper about how strange it was for Yumi-chan to put her neck that close to a vampire.

After a bit of time passed, she disentangled herself and released Yumi-chan with a light laugh. "Thanks, I needed that. It's been...a long day." A pause as they continued walking. "I'm around seven hundred. Born in 1316, so I'll be 709 come October seventh. Gettin' a little long in the tooth, you might say," she chuckled.

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

Oh my god he's so painfully earnest I love him so much.

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

Yuh, like said, I'm also fine with y'all moving along! Hoping to hop in tomorrow morning, at last 🙃

@Vertigo

HYPE HYPE HYPE

Primality: Act 1

Vinegar 'Vina' Lilianne and Sam Tavares

^{Location: Wolkwitz Auditorium, Merryweather Institute}

---

Vina grumbled deep in her throat as some white-haired kid--with ALL THE SPACE this far up in the auditorium--stepped past and sat down right next to her. Some people. Did he not realize that she was explicitly sitting here to avoid sitting next to people?

Still. What was she supposed to do? She was in a school auditorium, for god's sake, it's not like she could punch him here and now, and she didn't really want to anyway. All she could do was shoot a glance to the side and glare at his--

"--ice?"

It's not that Vina was surprised or anything, this was a Primalist school, after all. Just wasn't expecting to see someone using it so casually, given her relationship with her own element and the care she had to take with it. Then she suddenly realized that she was staring, and by what she just said he'd know. So she turned back towards the front with a hmmph, hoping that he wouldn't call her obvious faux pas into question.

Now Sam was regretting sitting next to this girl. She was clearly annoyed, he caught her staring at him before she turned away in a huff. Should he just ignore her? That would be the safest option. But this was a fresh start for Sam, he couldn't just let his awkwardness dictate his life. So he decided to talk to her, "are you not warm? With all these people in here I feel like I could melt." If she really didn't want to talk hopefully she would just say so.

Well, that was probably the end of Vina's privacy. With a looooong sigh, she folded her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling, metaphorically kicking back since she didn't want to be the kind of asshole who puts their feet up in an auditorium. "Well, my tolerance might be hotter than most. Especially you, Ice Cube." Weighing whether or not showing off was a good idea when she never knew if it'd put a hole wherever she was pointing it, she eventually brought a hand down in front of her and carefully let a nimbus of superheated air dance around it without firing a heat laser out of it. Progress!

"My element's heat," she finished, voice dry as the Sahara. "I'm literally in my element here."

Honestly, it was actually a little cool for her. She was way further north than she was used to, the auditorium was air conditioned, and she was sitting far away from most people. Forgot being 'not warm, she was cold!

Well that sigh wasn't a great start, but at least she was being friendly instead of just telling him to screw off or something. He let out a small chuckle at her comment after she displayed her ability. "Very nice, I can appreciate some dry wit. I'm Sam, by the way. Though I like how Ice Cube sounds, probably too cool for me though." Now it was his turn for a bad pun, two could play at that game.

Oh, good. It was time to play the name game. A ghost of a smile came to her face. At least this way she could introduce herself the right way before Sam learned her confusing legal name. Because really, honestly. Vinegar? Really? "I'm sure there's a way to use heat and ice to pun off of 'dry wit' there without dragging it out too far, it's a shame I can't find it." He seemed nice-ish. Not annoyingly nice, too, like a lot of the pain-in-the-ass people Vina had dealt with over the years and had usually led to her beating on them because she thought they were making fun of her. Just...generally friendly.

Still kind of a pain in the ass that he'd decided to randomly sit with her, but, hey, gotta make the best of any given situation. She shook out her hand to banish any of the excess heat from it before reaching it out to him for a fistbump. "Vina. 'Sup, Ice Cube."

Sam first bumped her, "nice to meet you Vina." He had his first new friend at the institute. Well, he supposed his roommate could be his first friend, though they hadn't interacted a whole lot yet, so maybe not. Either way, this was a good sign of things to come. "I've got dry ice to go with dry wit, it feels like the pun is right there." The auditorium was seeming quite full now, most of the student body seemed to have finally arrived. "It seems we may have to fridge this discussion, I suspect we'll have to listen to some boring opening speech any minute now."

"Heh. Fridge."

---

Oh goddamnit. There it was. Thanks, Natascha. With both the reminder of all the roadblocks that had suddenly been placed in her way as a newfound Primalist and the use of her proper name thoroughly ruining what good mood she'd managed to garner, Vina scowled at Sam, keeping her voice low enough to fly under the radar of the general din as she honest-to-god growled sideways, one hand rubbing at her temple while the other began fidgeting with the motherfucking tie again.

"If you call me 'Vinegar' I'm going to punch you in the face. More than once. Savvy?"

She wanted to cause less trouble at the Merryweather Institute. She wanted to be less of a habitual line-stepper, being friends with Charlotte and then with Jason and Olivia had made permanent testiness a lot less alluring. But she was still in an enduring foul mood from the circumstances of her transfer here, she missed her friends...and the lure of anger was just so tempting. It was like a drug, and the more you tried to hold it back the more you craved it. She pressed her lip tightly together, digging her spare hand's fingernails into its palm and focusing on it to keep her mind off it, and--

--aaaaand she'd just pulled off her tie again.

She immediately dropped her head into her hands and barely managed to stifle the loud "FUCK!" to the point it wouldn't be audible on stage, let alone the people around her.

Becoming acquaintances with Sam was a good start. This was not.

"Yes ma'am, understood," Sam gave her a mock salute, "I prefer going by the short versions of people's names anyway." Sam had always thought his name was a bit boring, he'd never been more happy to have it, it could have been much worse. He was then startled out of his thoughts by Vina swearing quite loudly. She seemed to have undone her tie. "Hey, want me to get that for you? I'm guessing the fuck is because you find tying the tie frustrating?" Sam found it frustrating too, but he could at least manage it good enough.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could say to Vina that wouldn't make it worse at this point.

"I can tie a stupid tie!" Vina spat, metaphorical hackles raising and fists clenched tight as she struggled to take deep breaths to calm down. "I just can't keep it on without feeling like I'm choking! And that's NOT why I'm mad!" She pressed her palms into her eyes. Inches away from a full-on explosion, she used the pressure to ground herself as the tie hung loose around her neck. Charlotte had taught her some breathing exercises; but breathing exercises only worked when you weren't hyperventilating madly and trying to not turn everything within ten feet into a scorched wasteland. Socially. Metaphorically.

By now, the people that Natascha had called were starting to filter out of the auditorium. She knew she had to go. She'd been trying to avoid this exact situation and keep her temper under control, and it wouldn't be great if she was late to the literal first thing her new teacher asked of her because she couldn't. Still, most of a minute had passed by the time she managed to wrangle herself down enough to use those exercises, and the rest passed actually doing said exercise.

"Sorry," she found herself muttering through her teeth to the person sitting next to her as she kept on breathing carefully and finally stood to catch up with the rest of her class. "I've got some issues with anger." Well no shit, Sherlock, she thought irritably. It was pretty evident. Great. He probably thought she was a lunatic. Well wasn't that entire incident a disaster.

After a moment of silence, she took one more long, heavy breath, and spoke in a bit more of a moderated tone. "You said Sam, right? You Tavares?"

Sam flinched back a bit at her sudden outburst, whatever response he was expecting that certainly wasn't it. She was clearly going through something and while he felt awkward he wasn't just going to leave her in the middle of it. While she calmed herself down a pun about her being hot headed popping into Sam's mind, along with something about her being bitter about her name. While he thought it was a bit funny now was definitely not the time. After a moment of breathing she was back, not exactly calm, but more in control.

"Ya, I'm Tavares, looks like we're in the same class, we should probably go and catch up with everyone." He stood and stretched, it's not like they had been sitting for long, but the seats weren't the most comfortable and feeling warm didn't help either. "And it's fine, don't worry about yelling. I'm a pretty chill guy."

Huh. Well, would you look at that. It looked like he didn't immediately look at her like a basket case after she freaked out on him. Didn't that make a nice change. She was far too used to losing her temper once resulting in a whole slew of consequences, from a visit to the dean, laddering all the way up to being shoved back into the foster system again after her newest set parents decided they didn't want to deal with her.

She pressed a hand to her chest and took a few more deep breaths, finally actually calming down and deploying a rare sincere smile with no sarcasm or vitriol. "Thanks, man. 'Preesh." She stepped out into the aisle, jutting her thumb out towards the entrance. "Let's go. Natascha kinda seems like someone you don't want mad at you." A beat passed as she looked down at herself. "Ah, fuck, this tie!" She let out a long, heavy sigh, and just like that, the tension on her face returned, and the smile grew sharper once more.

"Let's get out of here so I can tie this damn thing again in time."

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

一 色 み か こ - I S S H I K I M I K A K O
一 色 み か こ - I S S H I K I M I K A K O

---

Mika-chan was, in fact, here too.

The instant she heard the nickname--in Suzucchiko's voice and cadence, no less--she was slapped upside the head by about fifty different breeds of nostalgia all at once, shooting her back in time to playing with her and Eikichi in elementary school, when she didn't have so much responsibility riding on her shoulders. And so she couldn't help the enormous smile that crossed her face. Class was about to start proper soon, so she didn't have much time to talk to her, but she resolved that at lunch she was going to have a mini freakout about her sudden reappearance for sure.

Though the majority of her attention is on Suzucchiko, she was paying enough attention--especially after the other girl slumped down--to note the change in Eikichi's bearing. She'd grown used to who he'd turned into by now; the fact that they would never again be close had snuck into her pre-sleep regret jitters on more than one occasion. They'd spent so much time together as kids, after all.

And by the way he'd just glanced at her, he was remembering it too.

Her smile went from bright to slightly clouded over. It was possible that with Suzuka here again, she might have the chance to reconcile with Eikichi and maybe try to bridge the chasm that now yawned between the two of them. But...did she want to now? It wasn't often that Mikako was anxious about social situations nowadays, but it had been so long since the two had been close, and he certainly wasn't the only one who'd changed a lot. Maybe the changes that she'd gone through were a bit less visible than his. She still looked, and on the surface even acted fairly similar to how she used to be. But she just had so much more to think about now, so much more that she was responsible for. Their worlds were just so far apart now; even if Suzuka brought them together again, would they still even be friends?

Well, at the very least it wasn't worth thinking about right then. Better to focus on the very real best friend that had just been forcibly reintroduced to her world. And while Suzuka did look similar in some very important ways, she'd also changed a lot; she looked a lot more grown up now. And so all that was to say that the first thing Mikako said to Suzuka after her acknowledgement was a barely concealed squeal of delight, followed by an almost parental:

"Look how grown-up you are now!"

Umbra Rose Condos

_{Evening
Streets of Mantleville
Interacting with: @Massasauga Rebecca @CitrusArms Yumeiko no Yumi-chan}

---

"Your rock is talking. Does it eat, too?"

"Um. No, Yumi...can I call you Yumi-chan? It's, uh, a phone."

Oh god, she didn't know what a phone was, did she? Thank god she heard someone speaking through it and got a clue what it was, or else it could've gotten REALLY awkward. Velvet had just gotten a new phone, she wasn't keen on it getting broken somehow. She parroted the order into the receiver, chuckled at the bemused person on the other side--undoubtedly checking the dictionary on their phone because they were probably a kid with a summer job who didn't know what agedashi dofu or tonkatsu teishoku were--and finally hung the thing up.

"Modern communication device. Uses technology to talk to people anywhere in the world. Trust me, it surprised me at first too when I woke up."

It was almost enough for her to forget Wolverine Girl making fun of her name? She shot her a look halfway between humor and hurt. "Coventry is just the place I was born, peasants didn't get last names back then. Changed my name to Velvet from what it originally was after a hundred and change years 'cause I was getting real edgy, oh boy. And now I'm just used to it."

Ah, but by that time Yumi-chan had moved on to something else. This version of her wasn't quite as intelligent as Yumeiko Yumeiko, was it...? Still, again, Velvet could empathize. "Yeah. The streets today are mostly for cars and people only walk on the sidewalks, because," she jutted out a thumb at a car as it zipped past, "any normal person gets hit by one and it's lights out."

They walked on a few more feet before Velvet realized she could finally get an answer for something she'd been wondering. "Hey, Yumi-chan. How old are you--or, uh, is Yumeiko, since I think you're technically different? Miyuki, too, how old is she? I'm a bit of a crotchety old lady myself, so I like knowing where I sit, y'know?"

Umbra Rose Condos

Working on one, I promise. Continuing personal issues. About halfway through. Sorry.