[Yep, now that she's coming into focus... that doesn't look good.]
Glad you came back, too. Hope you brought some for yourself. [He'll take a small sip of the tea.] Are you... [He seems to reconsider the question. Are you all right is too vague, and also the answer is obviously no.] --Something happened to your throat?
[She did, in fact, bring some tea for herself! Her throat desperately needs it, tbh.]
... To be honest, I checked out for most of it. But apparently, I screamed until my voice gave out. [Lightly, like talking about the weather.] Ah, well, it was a lot worse before Nero healed me.
[Sometimes, it just be like that... But she eyes the stump, frowning.]
There was a message on a screen... I wasn't able to copy it down. It said that those who travel between worlds require an anchor. That we must "establish our roots," as windows may open of their own accord...
And we found blueprints relating to these "Dust Bombs," and... a device.
[Monika furrows her brows, while she starts to pull one of her notebooks out. She flips through the pages until she finds what she's looking for, and flips it over.]
Here, this is what we found.
[It reads:
Until their essence fades to nothing in the Land of the Dead, the spirit yet remains. Knowing that, one wonders if it may yet be possible to restore those lost to us, that we may no longer mourn their absence. They would require a connection - something to anchor them to who they once were and to the worlds from whence they came, and a spark of life. Could the latter, perhaps, be borrowed from another? And how would one share themselves so, without endangering their own life?]
[Kim studies it, his eyes widening... then he takes out his notebook, fumbling with it. He normally holds it in his left hand while writing. He sets it on his lap and copies down what he can.]
Like a blood donation... It sounds less scary when you put it that way.
[She glances down at Pygmalion, too, watching him groom himself.]
Our daemons can lose some dust without dying. We might not necessarily have to go to any extremes to collect it, either. Things like feathers become dust when they're removed, right?
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[Yep, now that she's coming into focus... that doesn't look good.]
Glad you came back, too. Hope you brought some for yourself. [He'll take a small sip of the tea.] Are you... [He seems to reconsider the question. Are you all right is too vague, and also the answer is obviously no.] --Something happened to your throat?
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... To be honest, I checked out for most of it. But apparently, I screamed until my voice gave out. [Lightly, like talking about the weather.] Ah, well, it was a lot worse before Nero healed me.
[Sometimes, it just be like that... But she eyes the stump, frowning.]
I'm really sorry about your arm.
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There's a slow, grim nod at her sympathy.]
Mm. I can't say it will be okay... [Especially since it's honesty week!] But I suppose it could have been worse.
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[Even if it's not much of a comfort, it could have definitely been worse. There could have been a fourth body for the body pile.
But she pauses, and after a moment she adds:]
By the way, did you happen to find another note?
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[He narrows his eyes, trying to remember.]
There was a message on a screen... I wasn't able to copy it down. It said that those who travel between worlds require an anchor. That we must "establish our roots," as windows may open of their own accord...
And we found blueprints relating to these "Dust Bombs," and... a device.
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... A device?
[Monika furrows her brows, while she starts to pull one of her notebooks out. She flips through the pages until she finds what she's looking for, and flips it over.]
Here, this is what we found.
[It reads:
Until their essence fades to nothing in the Land of the Dead, the spirit yet remains. Knowing that, one wonders if it may yet be possible to restore those lost to us, that we may no longer mourn their absence. They would require a connection - something to anchor them to who they once were and to the worlds from whence they came, and a spark of life. Could the latter, perhaps, be borrowed from another? And how would one share themselves so, without endangering their own life?]
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[Kim studies it, his eyes widening... then he takes out his notebook, fumbling with it. He normally holds it in his left hand while writing. He sets it on his lap and copies down what he can.]
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[She trails off, sighing. She would really like this to work, thank you.]
I have my own thoughts. But what do you think that "spark of life" could be?
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... Dust, maybe?
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It shouldn't be impossible, right? A small amount of Dust can be lost without significant harm. Like a blood donation...
[He looks to Cecile, thoughtfully. She's sitting on the back of the couch as a bandicoot. She just twitches her nose back at him in response.]
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[She glances down at Pygmalion, too, watching him groom himself.]
Our daemons can lose some dust without dying. We might not necessarily have to go to any extremes to collect it, either. Things like feathers become dust when they're removed, right?