Conversation Space I.

[powersthatbe]

The room is small, intimate. You are alone. There is no sign of a way in or out. Ping-pong balls crunch underfoot, and empty giftboxes, meticulously wrapped and ribboned, are lined up against one wall, while a humming wall of server blades are racked on the opposite wall. A high-backed, gilt chair with red velvet cushions faces an ornate, full-length mirror, and beside the chair is a mug of steaming hot chocolate on a tiny side table, steaming invitingly from beneath a layer of fifteen half-melted marshmallows.

What do you do?

Comments

[wholeheaded]

Ambrose psychically reaches for Daneel and his other associates over the network, then glances around to ascertain who else is in this strange room with him.

And then with the toe of his right foot he rustles around in the ping pong balls like autumn leaves, then stoops to scoop a few up, then wanders over to poke at the gift boxes. Thrones and mirrors? Not his thing anymore, thanks.

[powersthatare]

The gift boxes rock at a touch, light enough that it isn't hard to guess they're empty.

After a while, there's a dry, papery cough from the mirror. Don Orlea stands on a coastline, no bundle over his shoulder and no dog at his ankle, the sunlight behind him rendering him as delicately translucent as a paper lantern. He looks... weak, insubstantial.

[wholeheaded]

He turns at that, giving the mirror a quizzical frown, then approaches with caution.

"Hello," he says, letting the ping pong balls slip from his fingers. The scene is familiar through the haze of a long gone infiltration, though the Arcanum's appearance is... unusual. Troubling? "...you brought me here? Why?"

[powersthatare]

"I am speaking to all my Chosen, before the Third Phase begins." The look he gives Ambrose is very dry, brow arched, acknowledging, perhaps, that all his Chosen are presently in the room, since all the others have vanished long since.

[wholeheaded]

Ambrose widens his eyes, glances left, glances right, then nods with (mock?) solemnity at the mirror.

"Well. I'm still going, as advised."

[powersthatare]

"You have been most agreeable," Don Orlea concedes. "I have watched the difficulty others have. None of mine have been... nearly as troubled."

[wholeheaded]

"Would kinda be against what I assume is our shared inherent nature if we did. Okay, I'm listening again. Speak."

[powersthatare]

"I am not here to deliver any specific message. Merely to... what is the word? Breathe together? Yes. It was time we met again, in the same air."

[wholeheaded]

"So a social call," Ambrose says and finally settles on the throne, resting right ankle on left knee and leaning back. "Wonder if I'll be allowed to ask more than one question, or if you have any for me."

[powersthatare]

"No-one has set limits on what you may do here," the Don says. "As for myself, I am curious, and curiously uninformed."

[wholeheaded]

No limits? All right then.

"Have you heard the saying about curiosity killing cats? I'm gonna rely on my more bird-like tendencies." And with a gesture he opens his control panel to see what can be discerned. "And your... where is your dog? How do you and SAGE get along, by the way?"

[powersthatare]

"My dog is nowhere - at the moment. As for the one you call SAGE... we were once opposed to one another. Now, One who stands between us unites our purposes."

[wholeheaded]

"Huh." Well, that's reassuring. Ish. "Where's nowhere?"

[powersthatare]

"Out of ambit. A mortal might say... 'not available at the circulation desk.'" He pauses, frowns. "At least, I believe that is the phrase."

[wholeheaded]

"That makes sense, yeah. Or maybe... lost, stolen, destroyed?"

[powersthatare]

"Hmmm." He coughs, a dry sound. "No, I would not use those words."

[wholeheaded]

"Hmmm."

Ambrose regards the mirror, and sighs. "All right. So what happens now? I imagine you're looking for more recruits to your... cause."

[powersthatare]

"And do you look for your hands, when you wish for them?"

[wholeheaded]

"...I ask stupid questions, don't I."

[powersthatare]

"If you do, do you believe that is likely to make me value you less?" The wry tone becomes a cough, and the paper wrappings shiver.

[wholeheaded]

“I suppose you do appreciate a certain degree of naive-ness.”

Generally Ambrose tries to maintain an ambivalence toward the Arcana as a whole, but it’s against his nature to respond to suffering with anything but compassion. “Would you like some water? Or… well, there’s cocoa. And I’ve always got a caramel candy.”

[powersthatare]

"Perhaps later," the Don demures. "Right now... there is not enough of me to enjoy the experience."

[wholeheaded]

"...of course, sorry."

He tried. Manners and all, but now he's thinking and he's pretty sure his success in carrying forth Don Orlea's agenda will help the Arcanum, but... "What are my rewards if I work for your desires, and what are my penalties if I act against your nature?"

[powersthatare]

"I will send you all back to where you began," Don says, nodding. "As for penalties... if you oppose me, you oppose advancement, openness, and new beginnings. I do not think you oppose these things. Do you?"

[wholeheaded]

"...no, I can't say I do."

He glances to the ceiling with a frown.

"Where I began... Traveling? Or further back?"