Effervescent motes of light flow in from the ether, gracefully coalescing into the form of Daraius,
riding a tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings.

Miso's fingers dart to his forehead as he musters up a quick salute.

Jolanthe Myeras says, "Not always in the singing mood, though."

Daraius dips his bewhiskered canid muzzle politely to Miso.

Comprehension flashes across Lisuarte's face.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "My song is apparently too aggressive to play here."

The surrounding shadows stretch and writhe, coiling lovingly around Caohite as she enters from the
ether.

Jolanthe curtseys gracefully.

Miso looks about in confusion.

Caohite hums a happy tune.

Shango tilts back his head and inhales deeply while twitching a wolf's snout.

Shango twiddles his thumbs.

Jolanthe Myeras says, "Even Avechna is a critic."

A tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings paws the ground and shuffles about impatiently.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs asks Miso, "Winning still more admirers of your
music, dear pup?"

A golden retriever pants heavily, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Daraius's eyes sparkle behind the lenses of his spectacles.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I've been trying very hard to write a follow up to my hit song
"Crystal Roads"."

With the light whispers of a hiss in her words, Proselyte Caohite, Umbrated Ivory says, "When he is
not sassing them."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "It's not going well."

Miso nods his head enthusiastically at Daraius.

Daraius smiles softly.

Daraius steps down off of a tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings.

A cone of sparkling light rises up around Caohite and whisks her away.

Dripping water echoes in the distance.

Kistan Rithel murmurs, "So busy...."

The surrounding shadows stretch and writhe, coiling lovingly around Caohite as she enters from the
ether.

Caohite flashes a smirk from beneath hooded eyes, revealing two long, white fangs dripping with
poison.

Mulengi looks between Daraius and Miso a few times. Their eyebrows raise as if in
realisation.

Shango pets Kistan ingratiatingly.

Kistan beams broadly at Shango.

Kistan Rithel says, "Hello uncle. All well in the world of evil?"

Primarch Shango D'Cente, Dark Animus of the Machine says, "You'd have to ask Celest, couldn't tell
you."

Shango shrugs helplessly.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to Miso, "Nevertheless, I'm pleased with your
newfound boldness."

Kistan's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Miso covers his mouth as a gasp slips out.

You bow respectfully to Daraius.

Politely, still bowing, you say to Daraius, "You have raised a fine child. I am honoured to have met
him."

Daraius dips his bewhiskered canid muzzle politely to you.

Jolanthe waves goodbye.

A cone of sparkling light rises up around Jolanthe and whisks her away.

With a flourish of his arm, Lisuarte bows deeply.

Kistan Rithel says, "I had best go be respectable!"

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to you, "I cannot take any credit for raising
him, I'm afraid, as he was around a century old when we met."

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs smiles and says, "But it has been an honor for me,
as well."

The air grows colder and the surroundings seem darker as Kistan departs to the out, the angelic
voices fading with him.

With the light whispers of a hiss in her words, Proselyte Caohite, Umbrated Ivory says, "How sweet."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to Daraius, "You've done very well in encouraging my recent
ambitions!"

Miso makes a short, vexed sound.

Mulengi stands upright, readjusting their suit some in-so-doing. "When you care for
someone as your child, the age you meet them matters less than the impact you have on each other. Or
so my parents would have said," they say. They pause for a long moment. "I think," they add.

A tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings talons the ground with a fierce shriek, his wings
spreading gloriously behind him.

"Mm," Daraius hums in acknowledgement, though the sound is more a growl than anything.

Glorious grey wings arch behind Miso, wrapping themselves about him with iridescent feathers
glimmering with starlit silver.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs asks you, "You're the astrologer who provided
Miso's natal chart, yes?"

With a light nod, you say, "Guilty as charged, sir."

You see the following people here:
Daraius, Miso, Shango, Mulengi.

A tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings talons the ground with a fierce shriek, his wings
spreading gloriously behind him.

Looking to the furrikin for a moment, you ask, "It didn't cause any issues, I hope?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "He noted we had no compatible signs."

Nodding in turn, a subtle sparkle manifesting in his eyes, Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural
Affairs says, "It was a well-formed document. I wonder what further insight the planets and stars
might give into my dear pup's character."

A small screech owl soars into the sky and flies around in a few circles.

He is 320 years old, having been born on the 21st of Dioni, 232 years after the Coming of Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Antlers.             (Cutting)
  Moon was in the sign of Volcano.            (Hallucinations)
  Eroee was in the sign of Antlers.           (Pacifism)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Burning Censer.   (Stupidity)
  Tarox was in the sign of Glacier.           (Impatience)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Burning Censer.   (Ego)
  Aapek was in the sign of Lion.              (Anorexia)


Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to Miso, "No matching signs, I said. I'm
afraid I haven't the training to declare whether Antlers and Bumblebee sun signs ought to be
compatible."

He is 112 years old, having been born on the 16th of Estar, 440 years after the Coming of Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Bumblebee.           (Poison)
  Moon was in the sign of Lion.               (Paranoia)
  Eroee was in the sign of Spider.            (Pacifism)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Bumblebee.        (Epilepsy)
  Tarox was in the sign of Twin Crystals.     (Impatience)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Skull.            (Ego)
  Aapek was in the sign of Crocodile.         (Scabies)


"Ah." is all that comes out of the mouth of Miso.

"And as I mentioned," Daraius adds with a canine grin, "I take the notion that these things have any
meaning at all rather lightly."

The smell of decay assaults your nostrils.

You say, "Antlers and Bumblebee are of the same astrological element, which is different from the
elements used in other professions. Both are of Nature. So arguably, yes, they are compatible."

Showing that he understands, Daraius nods his head slowly.

You say, "However, they are square each other."

You say, "So while they're not as compatible with each other as they can be, they're not as bad as
an opposition. Antlers would be Spider. Bumblebee would be Lion."

A great brindle mastiff pants heavily, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Bowing their head a moment, you say, "It would be a great pain to do a relationship chart for you
two, but possible."

Daraius pushes a pair of thin spectacles up the bridge of his muzzle and shakes his head.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says, "Please don't trouble yourself."

You say to Daraius, "As for anything significant in Miso's chart. Eroee in Spider. That is
significant."

It is now the 12th of Shanthin, 552 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs asks, "Oh yes? Some insight into his heart?"

You say, "Without doing a full natal report it's hard to know the exacts, but Eroee in Spider
indicates that the lover Miso will take up eventually will change him. Significantly."

Daraius's whiskers droop slightly as a soft, disconcerted growl rumbles in his chest.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to Miso, "Well there you have it, dear pup."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I wasn't listening! I was thinking of a new song."

With a slight shrug, you say, "As I've said to Miso in the letter I wrote him, he can fight the
Fates, however. He doesn't have to let the heavens dictate anything."

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to Miso, "Mm, best you didn't know, perhaps."

Daraius nods his head at you, showing his acceptance.

Shango twiddles his thumbs.

Dripping water echoes in the distance.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I call my new song order."

'Oh?' Daraius exclaims quizzically at Miso.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs asks Miso, "Are you debuting it now?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Why not!"

Daraius wags his tail happily.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I might start singing this one in quakes."

Daraius ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."

Daraius holds out a painting of Lycaon Pictus Hallifaxus and jostles it slightly. The image ripples
and shimmers momentarily before a Hallifaxian painted dog leaps from the canvas, landing with a
splash of colorful paint on the ground below.

A Hallifaxian painted dog begins to follow Daraius obediently.

Miso pets a Hallifaxian painted dog ingratiatingly.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to a Hallifaxian painted dog, "Miso has
composed a new song."

A Hallifaxian painted dog's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

A Hallifaxian painted dog swivels his ears towards Miso, listening with rapt attention.

Daraius likewise swivels his ears towards Miso, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly.

Miso tunes up his instrument and begins to play a gentle arpeggio before before picking up speed and
beginning his song.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we had Order," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"And we wouldn't have to despair for long," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"And wouldn't it be nice to live together," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"In a Harmonious world where we belong?" sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"You know it's gonna make it that much better," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"When we can say good fight and slay together," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up," sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"In Hallifax and have all your values renewed?" sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

"Oh, wouldn't it be nice?" sings Miso, playing a finely-crafted violin.

The song that Miso was performing fades away.

Miso's fingers dart to his forehead as he musters up a quick salute.

Daraius's eyes sparkle behind the lenses of his spectacles.

The smell of decay assaults your nostrils.

Daraius raps padded fingertips against padded palm, giving up a quiet, polite round of applause for
Miso.

A Hallifaxian painted dog romps playfully in circles around Miso.

Mulengi politely applauds Miso for his performance.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to Miso, "Fates willing, you'll find the
opposition as charmed with this as they have been with Crystal Roads."

No sound betrays the entrance of a pearlescent, slender swan graced with dawn-struck wings of
crystal from the ether.

Miso leans on a Hallifaxian painted dog seeking consolation.

Shango sucks thoughtfully on a crimson tongue stud.

A young nightmare emits a blood-curdling whinny as she stomps the roiling clouds beneath her.
A pearlescent, slender swan graced with dawn-struck wings of crystal ruffles her feathers.

A Hallifaxian painted dog stares straight ahead, perplexed, as he supports Miso's weight.

Miso pets a Hallifaxian painted dog ingratiatingly.

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says, "Hmm, if you'll pardon me, I should see to
some errands."

Lord Daraius Shevat, Minister of Cultural Affairs says to you, "Pleasure meeting you, comrade. I
trust you will be a worthy friend to my dear pup."

Gliding soundlessly through the air, a pearlescent, slender swan graced with dawn-struck wings of
crystal skims to the ether.

Daraius easily vaults onto the back of a tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings.

Daraius performs something of a bow from atop a tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings, saying,
"May you be well, and your efforts fruitful."

Daraius, riding a tawny gryphon with grey-feathered wings, takes a step towards the out, his form
dissipating into effervescent motes that fluidly flow off to the out.
Padding away to the out, a Hallifaxian painted dog leaves colorful pawprints in his wake with every
step.

You say to Miso, "Your father seems nice."

Jolanthe enters from the ether, emanating an aura of immense power.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "He is!"

---

*** Movement to Hallifax! ***

---

You follow Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer south to Golden Serenity Teahouse.

Miso buys a sweet apple salad garnished with grubs.

Miso gives a sweet apple salad garnished with grubs to you.

You blink.

You are wielding:
  whip357054 : a golden whip of the pious in your right hand.
You are holding:
"salad375250"                 a sweet apple salad garnished with grubs
You are wearing:
Number of matching objects: 1 (out of 41 total)

You consume a sweet apple salad garnished with grubs leisurely, enjoying every bite.
Spearing the salad precisely with your fork, you make sure to get a
chubby white grub, a sliver of apple, and a bit of arugula. The
combination offers a pleasant contrast of textures and tastes as the
soft flesh of the juicy grub yields to your teeth, giving way to the
hardy crunch of fresh apple. The light dressing of honey and tangy
vinegar dances on the palate, harmoniously joining the earthiness of the
insect larvae and leafy greens with the brightness of the crisp fruit.
You eagerly down forkful after tantalizing forkful until all that
remains is an empty bowl and a single grub skewered on your utensil. You
relish the last plump morsel, savoring its satisfying pop as you finish
the meal.

You say, "Slimy, yet satisfying."

Miso grins and nods.

Miso buys a stoneware platter of savory lice bibimbap.

Miso buys a sampler platter of variously prepared insects.

Miso gives a stoneware platter of savory lice bibimbap to you.

Miso gives a sampler platter of variously prepared insects to you.

You are wielding:
  whip357054 : a golden whip of the pious in your right hand.
You are holding:
"platter318422"               a platter containing a drunken sweet potato casserole
"platter375726"               a stoneware platter of savory lice bibimbap
"platter375373"               a sampler platter of variously prepared insects
You are wearing:
Number of matching objects: 3 (out of 42 total)

You eat a stoneware platter of savory lice bibimbap with gusto.
Brandishing a pair of bamboo chopsticks, you eagerly break apart the
soft-fried egg and stir it into the piping hot lice, allowing the heat
of the insects to further cook the runny yolk. After mixing in the
vegetables and plum sauce, you pluck out a bite-sized ball of sticky
cooked lice and as many other toppings as you can gather with the two
lengths of bamboo. You blow a bit on the steaming morsel just enough to
keep from scalding your tongue, and promptly enjoy an array of sweet,
tangy, and spicy flavors. The lice serve chiefly as an unobtrusive
vessel for the flavorful veggies and egg, and before you know it, you
seem to have scarfed down most of the dish. A crisp and chewy crust of
cooked lice remains at the bottom of the dolsot bowl, and after
carefully scraping it up and stirring it into the remaining toppings,
you enjoy a new and interesting texture in a final few mouthfuls.

You quickly devour a sampler platter of variously prepared insects.
You select a beer-battered beetle from one of the segments of the
platter and dip it into some chutney, then bite into the delicately
fried morsel to be rewarded with a burst of bright fruity mango. The
beetle itself tastes slightly of pecans, with a very pleasant crunch.
Next, you pluck a cicada-stuffed jalapeno popper and scoop up a generous
dollop of tamarind chutney to dull the heat. Biting through the tender
skin of the pepper and crunchy exoskeleton of the cicada, you discover
the insect is actually the cream-filled kind, and it bursts on your
palate with a flavor not unlike an aged cheese. Finally, you extract one
of the candied butterflies and place it in your mouth, its delicate
wings shattering under the slightest pressure of your tongue. As you
savor the unmitigated note of saccharine sweetness, you realize the
platter still holds several more samples of each item, and you eagerly
repeat the cycle until none remain. For good measure, you finish off the
garnish of exotic flowers as well and indulge in a moment of satiated
bliss.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I'm just shocked somebody ate them."

You ask Miso, "I eat corpses, me eating bugs surprises you?"

You tilt your head curiously at Miso.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "It's better for them to be corpses than still alive."

You say, "I agree, that would be wild. Too fresh."

Curiously, you ask Miso, "So you are pretty old. You act much younger. How did that happen?"

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

Miso opens his eyes wide with shock.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "I think it may be because I fell and hit my head in my
youth and fell into a coma, causing me to not wake for many many years."

You wince in pain.

Apologetically, you say, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "It's okay!"

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

Rubbing the back of their head, you ask, "You have any questions for me?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Why the veil?"

You say, "I dressed like this before the Portal. My family did too. Pretty sure they did. I know I
did, for certain."

You say, "I'm not in the clothing I would wear, though. Apparently not many tailors make it."

Miso tilts his head curiously.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Father is a tailor."

You ask, "That's interesting... what trade are you?"

Finger extended, Miso pokes a magic spatula.

You begin to wield a clockwork quill in your left hand.

With your mighty index finger extended, you poke a clockwork quill.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I guessed that from the books!"

You utter a deep, rumbling laugh.

You say, "Fair, very fair."

Miso shuffles his feet uneasily.

Mulengi tilts their head a little. "Something on your mind?" they ask.

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer smiles and says, "I'm not sure what else to speak about."

You say to Miso, "Whatever you want."

Solemn, staid voices can be heard from somewhere outdoors, rising and falling in emotionless,
precise monotone.

You say, "Things you like, things you don't. People you like, people you don't."

Miso shifts his eyes suspiciously from side to side.

You say, "Something you saw, something you wanted to see, something you didn't want to see but saw."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I've been thinking a lot about a dear friend lately."

Golden Serenity Teahouse.
Banks of clouds roil about here. The fragrant aromas of herbs, spices, and brewing tea, and the rich
redolence of wood and paper permeate this cosy, perfectly square chamber. Overhead, a graceful dome
of vivid citrine-coloured crystal filters incoming light into a warm, welcoming golden glow. The
shop's honey-hued teak walls are polished to a smooth, satiny sheen that accentuates the exotic
wood's sinuous, swirling grain, in contrast to the unobtrusive mats of tightly woven fibres
underfoot, which muffle footsteps and lend an air of meditative tranquility to the space. To the
right of the entrance, an orderly row of tidy wooden shelves and beryl-hewn display cases host a
variety of finely crafted cups and bottles, as well as a small selection of culinary goods. Beyond
them, criss-crossing along the entire western wall, beams of umber mahogany form a precise diamond-
shaped lattice, which supports an assortment of bright, jewel-wrought tea kegs and ceramic canisters
of loose-leaf teas. Sparkling like crystalline flowers in bloom, the dazzling array of kegs displays
their colourful craftsmanship to full advantage while safeguarding their delicate contents. A small
seating area occupies the space to the left of the entrance, surrounded by fragrant cedar folding
screens. Inlaid with monochrome paper panels depicting a strikingly serene, windswept mountain
landscape, the screens enclose an area just large enough to comfortably accommodate two for tea
while maintaining an intimate sense of privacy. Occupying a perfectly circular glass-topped
depression in the centre of the floor, a mandala of brightly coloured sand blossoms with stunning
intricacy in every hue. Meticulous whorls, painstaking flourishes, and exacting symmetries coalesce
into a many-layered lotus, its petals reaching in each of the cardinal directions to form a poignant
symbol of balance and peace. A simple three-tiered chandelier hangs here, featuring a multitude of
delicate origami hanging from silken threads. There are 4 low, cushioned chairs of beryl-hued cedar
here. An unassuming cedar tea table rests here, a humble exemplar of balance and utility. A painting
of Tosha the Meditative serving tea beneath a cherry tree is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall,
with an inscription on a plaque on its frame. Puffs of smoke emitting intermittently from her
nostrils, a young nightmare paws at the ground. Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer with an Unknown face
is here. He wields a finely-crafted violin in his left hand and a golden whip of the pious in his
right hand. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see exits leading north and down (closed door).

You sit yourself down on a low, cushioned chair of beryl-hued cedar and make yourself comfortable.

Mulengi takes a seat and listens intently to Miso.

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "She's long gone now, you unfortunately wouldn't get to meet
her. But I recall Miss Xeii from time to time, I wish I could share with them all that's happened in
the past few years."

Weaver Xeii, Emissary of Order (Female Devoted Demigoddess).
She has cut her thread from the Tapestry of the Fates.
She is 118 years old, having been born on the 10th of Kiani, 434 years after the Coming of Estarra.
She is an extremely credible character.
She is a graduate of the University of Cosmic Understanding (honours).
She is a member of the clan called 'Bureau of Artistic Endeavours.'
She is a member of the clan called 'The Symphony of Accord.'
She is the clan head of the clan called 'Politburo Paperwork.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Ironhart Collective.'
She is the clan head of the clan called 'Trifloral Tailoring.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Prima Donna.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Beryl Aerial Furnishings.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Fashions of Rime.'
She is the clan head of the clan called 'Dewcrystal Artisanry.'
She is the clan head of the clan called 'Trifloral Scribery.'
She is a member of the clan called 'The Harmonic Array.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Sky Vault.'
She is a member of the clan called 'Beryl Aerial Papercrafts.'
She is a mentor and able to take on proteges.
Her warcry: 'Some silences are meant to be shattered!'
She is deemed an Apprentice by the Bardic Council of Vesteran Honours.
She is deemed an Engraver by the Artisanal Council of Vesteran Honours.
She is accounted Talespinner among literary writers.
She is considered to be approximately 105% of your might.
She has been divorced once.
She was born into the Great House of Shevat.
She is not currently active in any family.
See HONOURS FULL XEII to view her 44 special honours.

You ask, "Miss Xeii? Were they kind?"

With a fond smile, Miso gives a high-collared cashmere shirt emblazoned with a stylised rendering of
the Matrix to you.

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

With its flawless, sky blue cashmere base, lengthy sleeves and almost
consciously lofty collar, the shirt in question is no doubt meant to
suit a wearer with confidence; a likely source of that pride has been
dyed and embroidered with utmost care. Silver thread outlines the
perfectly round image of the Matrix, as seen from above - the four
bridges are lined with the same, like four storm-grey straps that anchor
the Nexus's image to the wearer's back. They dissolve into shimmering
particles of crushed amethyst, their hues growing paler as they reach
the ends like tendrils of fading dusk. At the same time, those very
colours seem to swirl forever within the Matrix's circle as a
representation of its energy. Upon each sleeve's elbow sits a leather
patch that takes quite a different tone than the amethyst dust. The
circular chamois is dyed a subdued blue-green chalcedony and rimmed in
sunlit gold thread, which repeats the Matrix emblem upon the faintly
shimmering leather in a definitive statement of the wearer's political
identity.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "They were the kindest! They were my first friend out of
the portal, they designed that shirt for me after I expressed how fond I was of the matrix and
wished to show people my love for Hallifax wherever I went."

Gingerly turning the sky blue shirt over in their lavender hands, you say, "This is a rather lovely
shirt. Well-made. Good craftsmanship."

Offering the shirt a great deal of care in its handling, you give a high-collared cashmere shirt
emblazoned with a stylised rendering of the Matrix to Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer.

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "It lingers in my mind sometimes, all the good memories I
have of her. It seems so different without her around."

Miso shakes his head.

Voice softening, you say to Miso, "Sounds like you miss her a lot."

With a gentle nod and a softening of his voice, Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "The first thing
I got to learn when I woke again was that my dearest friend had her thread cut."

You say, "That sounds... like a terrible way to wake up. I imagine right now it would be similar if
I woke up after a long rest and you or my mentor had done similarly."

Miso tilts his head back, and just like that the joy seems to flush back into his face and voice
(perhaps just a facade, but it is there nonetheless), "Though! We must keep going and carrying on. I
just hope, wherever she is, that she knows how thankful I am for having met her. I hope all my
friends will be as touched and supported as I felt."

Looking away with a slight shrug, you say, "... I can't speak for all of them."

You say, "One is, if you'd have them as a friend."

Glorious grey wings arch behind Miso, wrapping themselves about him with iridescent feathers
glimmering with starlit silver.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I consider you a friend, I noticed you weren't very sure
earlier this weave. Or maybe last weave."

Quietly, you say, "Fighting the Fates is not quite so easy as it sounds."

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.

It is now the 13th of Shanthin, 552 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "I have my doubts about how much we can actually resist
Them."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "Ultimately it seems our threads are brittle."

Glancing back over, though facing away, you say to Miso, "I'm doing a decent job if I have a friend.
Those of my sun sign are not known for having many, if any."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer smiles and says to you, "You seem like you'd have a few."

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

You say, "It's hard to say for certain. There are people I get along with, but I don't know if they
consider me a friend due to age or status difference."

You have turned the MARKET channel off.

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

Miso's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

With a sigh, you say, "Sun sign... Crocodile. It's hard, even when you know what you're fighting."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "What is it you're fighting?"

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

You say, "The Fates. More specifically, in the case of being a Crocodile Sun, it's fighting the
natural urge to keep everyone away or hurting those who are stupid enough to get close."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer looks thoughtful and says to you, "What makes it stupid to get close?"

You say, "Per astrology, we Crocodile Suns always end up hurting people close to us. Always always
always. I'm fighting that all the time. I'm trying to be a bit more like you - a Bumblebee - or a
Twin Crystals instead."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "You believe absolutely in the signs?"

You say, "I believe that we can fight our signs, but yes, I believe in them."

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

Showing that he understands, Miso nods his head slowly.

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

You say, "I know most people don't."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I believe in it, some. You had a very accurate read on me."

With a bitter laugh, you say, "It's for the better they don't, it brings a good deal of stress."

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.

Flares of energy flash across the planes as wild nodes form and begin to discharge wildly in the
Astral Plane, their power waiting to be claimed.

Miso smiles softly.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "There is a conflict starting."

Looking up at the furrikin from their seated position, you say to Miso, "You. You're gifted in love,
but it will change you wildly. Be careful of that."

You say, "I'm aware. I'm of little help in these conflicts."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "How will it change me?"

You say, "It'll change the way you think, the way you approach other people about your deepest, most
inner thoughts."

You say, "It'll change the way you present yourself to others. You'll be a completely new, different
person than you are now."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I'm not sure, I don't see myself changing much."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Truthfully, I don't see myself finding love. I'm not sure how
to initiate romance."

Miso's eyes twinkle enchantingly.

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

You say, "Romance comes in all sorts of forms."

You say, "There's passionate romance, gentle romance, quiet romance, wild romance, hateful romance,
so on and so forth."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Hateful romance sounds like an oxymoron."

You say to Miso, "Sometimes the passion of hating someone is just as strong as the passion of loving
them."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Hm."

You say to Miso, "Also, romance could sneak up on you. Then what?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "I'd probably get scared."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer laughingly says, "I'm too old, everyone my age is generally married,
anyways."

Laughing softly, Mulengi agrees, "You do seem like the skittish type." Folding
their hands on their lap, they continue, "Even so, I think I could see a way it happens to you, much
like your Eroee in Spider."

You say, "Minding your business, day in, day out. You make a friend. Day in, day out. Talk with them
a few times a month. One day you just suddenly realise you would be terribly sad without them."

You say, "Then you realise after that you want their company more than you have it."

You smile and say, "Next thing you know you're married."

Miso snorts abruptly, "If that was the case I think I'd have married every friend I've made along
the way."

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

You say, "That might be what love is for you, though."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "How does your sign get married?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer looks confused and says, "...how would someone born on the 14th of
Dioni be read?"

Mulengi trying not to laugh, "The same way."

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.


You say, "Someone with my Eroee would fall for someone the same way as you would, most likely."

You say, "We both have Eroee in Spider."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "That's strange."

They are 19 years old, having been born on the 24th of Tzarin, 533 years after the Coming of
Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Crocodile.           (Asphyxiation)
  Moon was in the sign of Crocodile.          (Clumsiness)
  Eroee was in the sign of Spider.            (Pacifism)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Bumblebee.        (Epilepsy)
  Tarox was in the sign of Twin Crystals.     (Impatience)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Antlers.          (Health)
  Aapek was in the sign of Crocodile.         (Scabies)


He is 112 years old, having been born on the 16th of Estar, 440 years after the Coming of Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Bumblebee.           (Poison)
  Moon was in the sign of Lion.               (Paranoia)
  Eroee was in the sign of Spider.            (Pacifism)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Bumblebee.        (Epilepsy)
  Tarox was in the sign of Twin Crystals.     (Impatience)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Skull.            (Ego)
  Aapek was in the sign of Crocodile.         (Scabies)


The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

You say, "We also both have Tarox in Twin Crystals and Aapek in Crocodile."

You say, "And Sidiak in Bumblebee, too."

You laughingly say, "... maybe we're more similar than I anticipated."

Miso's eyes twinkle enchantingly.

Solemn, staid voices can be heard from somewhere outdoors, rising and falling in emotionless,
precise monotone.

A large burst of power across the Astral Plane heralds the beginning of the capturing of the Wild
Nodes!

Soot and acrid smoke invade your nostrils as the clockwork core of the Megalith of Doom clicks and
whirrs in response to Magnagora's deeds spreading shock and awe across the First World.

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

instead of waiting for someone to find you
You say to Miso, "I do hope you end up with better luck in love than your chart says. You can fight
it. You can be forward if you want to, instead of waiting for someone to find you."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says to you, "I'm too shy to be forward with people."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "But how would someone born on the 14th of Dioni be read?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "In 529."

You say, "Give me a name, I can't read dates on their own."

He is 320 years old, having been born on the 21st of Dioni, 232 years after the Coming of Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Antlers.             (Cutting)
  Moon was in the sign of Volcano.            (Hallucinations)
  Eroee was in the sign of Antlers.           (Pacifism)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Burning Censer.   (Stupidity)
  Tarox was in the sign of Glacier.           (Impatience)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Burning Censer.   (Ego)
  Aapek was in the sign of Lion.              (Anorexia)


Miso gazes around in awe-struck horror, his eyes wide.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer looks thoughtful and says, "[[REDACTED]]."

She is 23 years old, having been born on the 14th of Dioni, 529 years after the Coming of Estarra.
On that date:
  Sun was in the sign of Volcano.             (Fire)
  Moon was in the sign of Skull.              (Hallucinations)
  Eroee was in the sign of Volcano.           (Sensitivity)
  Sidiak was in the sign of Glacier.          (Confusion)
  Tarox was in the sign of Bumblebee.         (Asthma)
  Papaxi was in the sign of Bumblebee.        (Health)
  Aapek was in the sign of Skull.             (Aeon)


You say, "Doubles doubles..."

Miso tilts his head curiously.

You say, "Double Volcano, Double Skull, Double Bumblebee. Then a singular Glacier."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "And that's...."

You say, "Someone without a deep personality. No offense meant to this [[REDACTED]]."

Miso opens his eyes wide with shock.

You say, "They have plenty of ambition and drive and are very social, though."

You say, "They're not quick to share their thoughts with others."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "That part does sound right."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer looks skeptical and says, "And that."

Solemn, staid voices can be heard from somewhere outdoors, rising and falling in emotionless,
precise monotone.

You ask, "Have feelings for [[REDACTED]]?"

It is now the 14th of Shanthin, 552 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Glorious grey wings arch behind Miso, wrapping themselves about him with iridescent feathers
glimmering with starlit silver.

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "She is interesting."

You smile and say, "So yes."

Miso cups his face with his hands and the corners of his mouth turn down dramatically from his
extreme distress.

In a sing-songy voice, you say, "Trans-par-ent."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Not true."

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

You ask, "Your feelings or your transparency?"

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "The transparency, or you'd know anyone and everyone I fancied."

Miso stomps about a bit, grumping vigorously.

Laughing softly, you say to Miso, "I haven't met them all yet."

Miso raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to speak but shakes his head, remaining silent.

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending
scale.

You get up off a low, cushioned chair of beryl-hued cedar.

As they get up, you say to Miso, "But I suspect I'll meet many of them. Friends introduce their
friends to each other most of the time."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer says, "Do you want an escort back to Magnagora?"

You say, "I can get there on my own. No worries."

You say, "I owe you... a book of some sort."

You say, "Or a scroll. Something to write on. You have a lot of thoughts and ideas."

Miso Shevat, Artful Marketeer smiles and says, "I'm always free to talk about them."

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

Nodding in agreement and moving momentarily to be eye-level, you say to Miso, "You are indeed always
free to talk about them. Especially to me. Even though I am your junior."

Mulengi slowly stands up again and faces Magnagora's general direction, feeling the
aethers with their hands.

You say, "We'll talk again soon, I trust."

You tug upon the aether strands around you, searching for one that connects to the Megalith of Doom.

Miso smiles softly.

You teleport along the aether strands to the Megalith of Doom.