A Scripta

You’ll be back.

Wham! Silos’ sneering voice filled his mind as Idaho slammed the axe down on the Hellion’s shoulder and nearly cleaved the man in half.

Not dead yet?

Then Masonry’s, as he raised his arm for the killing blow seconds before Star tackled him.

You be the mender!

Ariel’s angry, tear-filled eyes, glaring at him as he whirled with the axe, taking down three Hellions at once. Wham, slam, crash! Soon enough, the gang of men were reduced to a pile of bodies in assorted degrees of dismemberment and consciousness. As they disappeared to the Zig’s infirmary, he breathed heavily, now covered in blood not his own, and feeling guilt-ridden.

“Why I fix?” he whispered to himself, trudging his way out of the cave, paraphrasing Star’s words from yesterday. As he exited the cave, he felt a bullet in his arm. It hit bone, making his arm numb and dropping the axe to the stones with a clatter. He ducked into the alcove, leaving the axe there, holding his bleeding useless arm, and seeing a group of Sky Raiders.

“Captain Castillo sends his regards!” yelled one man as he made a downward, cutting motion.

All of the men fired at once, but they all hit above him. He looked up to see why – a huge stone gargoyle was perched fifty feet or so above him. They shot out the support.

He couldn’t move fast enough as the gargoyle tumbled forward, taking some of the ledge with it. Idaho put his arms over his head in an instinctive effort to stave off the falling granite, but it slammed into his head knocking him out instantly, breaking his neck, back, and thrusting his thigh bones through his hips.

As the teleporter took him to the hospital, the leader yelled, “The irony! Masonry buried by masonry!”

“I don’t think it was Masonry,” said one man.

“Looked like him,” offered the engineer, gathering up his things.

“A hero just the same,” snarled Clayton. “Gone. C’mon, boys, let’s find a few others.”

He woke up in the hospital, good as new, as a man slumped in a chair next to him. Idaho raised his head and looked at the man. "Not quite as bad as the Nexus they brought a couple of days ago, but bad enough. You okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, but are you?"

The dark haired man waved his hand. "I'm a doctor, it's what I do. You had more broken bones than a chicken. What happened?"

"Got caught under a stone gargoyle," and Idaho told him what did happen. The doctor nodded, but looked like he was ready to fall asleep.

A nurse came into the room, "Doctor Sixx?"

"I'll be okay in a few. Go on, wheel him out. Don't discharge him yet, though. I still need to talk to him."

"Yes, Doctor." The nurse got a pair of orderlies who manhandled the gurney out into the hallway. "You heard the man," the nurse said kindly. "Rest."

Idaho put his head back on the pillow and sighed, as they wheeled him into the elevator.

Duncan Idaho tucked the paper under his arm and walked through the metal detector. The guards watched him, and one opened his eyes wide at the read out.

“Mr. Idaho, you have the same DNA match as a dead hero – “

“Masonry. I know; I’m his clone.”

The guards looked him over. One said, “I knew him when he was in here.”

“I’m not him,” Idaho said.

“You look just like him.”

“I’m not him,” he reiterated firmly.

“Let him go, Tim,” said another guard.

One other guard beckoned, and Idaho followed him out into the prison. They went down a long, empty hallway that echoed their footsteps. The guard opened the door and escorted him into a small room with cubicles. He was directed to sit in one and wait. He pulled out the newspaper and read the article again that brought him here:

Scholarship Administrator Indicted for Murder

Michael Darcy, administrator for the Nathan Greene Foundation, was indicted yesterday on fifteen counts of murder, after admitting that he had created fifteen “constructs” of the friend the Foundation was named after.

“They were not human, even though they had flesh and blood,” stated Darcy’s attorney, Robert Block. “Most of them were incapable of supporting life, and only a few could be considered unable to function in society.”

However, Assistant District Attorney William Walker added, “He created sixteen illegal clones, and one of them has turned out to be the hero known as Duncan Idaho. What could have happened to the other fifteen, if allowed to live? Not to mention cloning is—“

Someone sat down across from him. Darcy nodded, picked up the phone on his side. Idaho found his phone and copied him.

“Darce.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out tomorrow.”

“What happened?”

“Fuckin’ StarWyng.”

Idaho twitched.

“She goes and makes a promise to Lodestar, and now she thinks she can go around applying it to everyone.”

“What promise?”

“She made some stupid promise – something about killing and putting it on you – and now she put the damn thing on me. What the hell – Lodestar’s dead.”

Idaho had to think of who Lodestar was, and then remembered that it was Nate’s Peacebringer, the second one, the “good” one. “But it was a promise,” Idaho reiterated.

“So what? I had to take out those constructs, Nate; they were my responsibility to do so. I made them, they were wrong, I needed to destroy them.”

“But weren’t they live? And conscious? And sentient?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. One tried to tear my throat out. Imagine if I just let him loose. He’d be sitting here, not me.”

"What about me?"

"What do you mean?"

Idaho gazed at Darcy. "What if something was wrong with me? Would you kill me?"

"If I knew something was wrong with you, I would have to."

“Killing’s wrong, though.”

“I didn’t like it, you know - Jesus Fucking Christ!” With that, he slammed the phone on the hook and mouthed, pointing, “You don’t understand,” and shoved himself away from the counter.

Idaho watched him leave, as he sat with the phone in his hand. Darcy looked back at him, his eyes blazing in fury, then he walked back out with the guard. “C’mon, Idaho,” said the guard on his side of the glass.

Idaho replaced the phone on the hook, glanced at the guard. “That’s not the Darcy I know.”

“Prison changes a man,” he said. “Some take less time than others.”

He wasn't sure it was that.

He awoke screaming, or thinking he did, though the room around him was dark and silent. He waited for his heart to ease, his breathing to slow, before he slowly sat up in bed.

Ariel, lying next to Idaho, stirred at his movement. "Idy..?" she uttered sleepily.

He patted her shoulder. "Just going to the bathroom, hun," he said quietly, and kissed her cheek. She muttered and settled back in. Idaho walked over to the base's bathroom, on the other side of the building. As he did, he thought, again, about getting an apartment, but on the heels of this most recent dream, he didn't think it was possible.

The dreams had been consistent, building up to this one. They started with him walking through the Isles, dressed in his casual attire, not looking for trouble, but expecting it. Then he turned into an alley to find some vampire feeding on someone.

He assumed that part of the dream came from what happened to Ariel, since these dreams started right around when she died. The vampire turned to him and said, "Come here, Duncan Idaho."

The voice was seductive, sultry, and as the nights went on, the vampire resolved itself into someone he knew: Satine.

Satine stepped aside from the man whose fount she drank from, keeping her eyes on him. "Come and drink. It's elixir."

"You're sick!" But his eyes were drawn to the reddening pool at the man's neck. For weeks he denied it, while Satine worked on him, tempting him. He would draw nearer and back away, forcing himself out of the dream like a man who dove too deep, struggling to get to the surface. But finally, tonight, finally…he bent his head to the man's neck, and took a tentative lick of the sticky, dark fluid.

It was ambrosia.

Darkly sweet, with a bite of fire. Addicting. More…

He felt it gushing down his throat, and couldn't swallow fast enough. Someone took him by the shoulder and turned him around - Masonry.

"Told you we're too close. Like blood, don't you? I just let it run through my hands. You drink it."

Ariel's death, Twisted

Mender Taggarts looked up at Idaho's approach. "Oh, she died already?"

Idaho stopped short. Mender Taggarts, "Tagz" as he called her, had been his personal trainer since Lazarus passed him on to her. She was a dark-haired, buxom woman who wore combat boots and a typical monocle that most Menders wore. She came from the 37th century, from the colonized planet Gelsian, a rough-and-tumble planet where the inhabitants were well-known to not suffer fools gladly.

"Yes. I want to fix it."

"I'm sorry, Idaho, you can't."

"Why the hell not?!"

Tagz crossed her arms across her chest and studied him. "Because it's part of your destiny."

"Fuck my destiny."

The gaze became angry. "You have a duty not only to us, but to time at large, Idaho. You still have a lot of trials by fire to go through before you realize who you really are." She turned away. "I suggest you take some time off for mourning, Idaho. You won't be able to concentrate on your work, and I don't have time to babysit."

Idaho turned on his heel, stormed out of the room, bursting into flame as he did so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How's he doing?"

Sonic Butterfly jerked at Suicidal Wombat's entrance. "Shit, man, don't scare me like that. What're you doing here?"

Wombat nodded to the hallway where the private rooms were housed. "Aestas."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. 'ja know her?"

"No, but I know Idaho. Checkin' on 'im."

"He's fine."

"Not if he's like Masonry." He walked on into the hallway, passed over to Idaho's room. He knocked gently on the door, and nodded to himself when Idaho called entrance.

He parted open the door. "Duncan."

"Oh, hi, Womby."

"Hey, mate. Sorry 'bout Ariel."

"I'll be all right."

"Hm, yeah, well..." He closed the door quietly. "I'm sure ya will, but what about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"'er spirit, mate. Ain' nobody seen 'er."

Idaho turned slowly and looked at him. "Because she's with me. She's bound to me or something."

"Bound? Th' only thing that c'n do that is a Pure Marriage or..."

"Or...?"

"She don' want to leave you."

"Why, Womby? I'd only hurt her."

"Why d'ya say that, mate?"

"I didn't want her life."

"Did she want yours?"

He looked sorrowful for a moment. "Yeah. But what if she changed her mind?"

Womby gave him a glare, that encompassed both anger and pity. "She can't now, can she?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wombat heard the spirits speak and followed their direction. Before, they could be often wrong - spirits that he had often controlled and forced to his bidding would say and do things to confuse and spite him. These spirits, these wraiths seeking and becoming comfort, would merely make suggestions.

It was two days after the funeral; he couldn't bring himself to approach Idaho then. But he had seen Ariel hover by him, trying to comfort him in her own way. Idaho was doing his level-best to ignore her, and didn't see her pain like Wombat did.

He followed his guides into Perez Park, a place he hadn't been in quite some time. Hydra still lived there, plaguing the unwary new hero. He followed their direction deep into the woods and found a small house with a set of docks. He didn't remember seeing this house before, but, then, he never really searched it out.

Wombat went up the dock, his feet barely touching the wood. Spirits were quiet here, which was good, but the Hydra hissing in the background made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He knocked gently on the door.

He heard movement inside, then Idaho's voice, cautious: "Who's there?"

"Me, mate," Wombat said quietly.

Locks were undone and the door opened slowly. "How did you find me here?" he asked. He stood topless and barefoot in only jeans. He would look like any man who looked suddenly disturbed, with the exception of the wood-cutting axe in his hand.

"Spirits tol' me. They wouldn'ta tol' me if they din't think it's right."

"No, I guess not, but this isn't my house."

"I'll wait'll ya get dressed, an' I'll talk t'ya out here."

"No, I'll go get my coffee and come outside. Want anything?"

"Coffee?" His eyes brightened.

Idaho smiled. "How do you take it?"

"Milk an' sugar, 'nuff for a layer on th' bottom."

"I'd better just bring out the pot."

A few moments later, Idaho came out with a pot of coffee, a mug and spoon, and a half-gallon carton of milk. He came out again with his mug and a sugar bowl. Wombat made his coffee silently, and after comments of how good it was, he got down to business. "The funeral was beautiful."

"I hear they're supposed to be." He looked down. "Her parents think it's my fault."

"Her dyin'?"

He nodded. "She wanted to be a hero. I told them I tried to dissaude her, but they didn't listen to me. They think I talked her into it. They think I got her killed - "

Womby looked for Ariel but didn't see her.

" - but she went off to the Isles on her own, to see Kitty. And not my fault she got drained dry by --" He cut himself off.

"A vampire?"

"A dampire."

Womby snorted in a chuckle. "Dhampyr. Daywalkers."

"Whatever. She sucked Ariel dry, and now she wants me to forgive her." He glared angrily at Wombat. "I can't. I can't."

"Now's not a good time, Duncan. But I din't come 'ere for 'at." He sipped at his coffee. "Ariel's bound t'ya, you said?"

"Yeah. Twisted Twilight - she's my original's girlfriend," his voice dropped low and he spoke angrily, "they're made for each other. Anyway, she told me that she bound Ariel to me. So I'm going to make her tell me how to release her."

"Ya think, mate, she don' wanna?"

"What do you mean? Don't all souls want to be released?"

Wombat raised an eyebrow and smiled gently. "I c'n tell ya of five righ' now that don't."

"Why not?"

"They all got th'r reasons. But yours don' wanna leave 'cuz she loves you."

He looked painfully at Wombat. "Why?" he cried.

"B'cause she does, ya dope! An' still ya hurt 'er. You ignored her the whole funeral."

"What was I supposed to do, say 'Hi' to air?"

"Yes! Jus' talk t' yerself - they'd f'rgive ya yer grief."

Idaho swallowed. "I didn't know that."

"Eh, mate, ya dunno lotsa things. That'll cover yer ass only so long. Did you love her?"

"Yes."

"With yer heart an' soul?"

"No."

Wombat raised an eyebrow. "At least yer honest."

"I couldn't give up myself. She gave up everything because Twisted...twisted her into it."

"Don' matter, mate; 'swhat she wanted. Yer Twist jus' pushed it a little." Wombat drained his mug. "Lis'n mate, here's what th' spirits say, 'kay?" His face turned serious, and he focused entirely on Idaho as he spoke. "She loves you with what's left of her being. Do not deny her that, Idaho, no matter how close to your original you might think you are. Even Masonry's heart is full of devotion - so can yours be. It's not a surrender, but a sharing. We do not expect you to give all today, but give small pieces, and you will see." Then Wombat closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, then relaxed.

The two men looked at each other, when Wombat opened his eyes. Without another word on the matter, Wombat said goodbye and leapt off into the trees. "Think he'll listen?" Wombat whispered.

The spirits didn't answer.

The door opened with a tiny tinkling of bells. “Be right with you,” said a voice from the far end of the store.

Idaho stood at the counter as a small, grey-haired, grey-bearded man peered his head from around the corner of a bookcase in the rear of the store. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Are you the owner?”

“Yes—“

“I want to buy this store from you.”

“I just bought it.”

“I know. The person who sold it did it by mistake. I want to buy it back from you.”

The man stepped out from the back of the store. “It’s not for sale.” He was small and older, like Penelope Yin's grandfather.

“I’ll give you twice what you paid for it.”

He brushed his hands against his pants. “It’s not for sale.”

“Three times. She made a big mistake. This was her sanctuary.”

The man smirked at him. “That’s not my fault, buddy.”

Idaho felt fire just below the surface of his skin. Anger, fury, frustration – being blocked, pushed, forced – all I want to do is help people, make them happy…and fix things. I can’t fix everything. He took out a card and calmly left it on the counter. “If you change your mind.”

He only shrugged at him, and Idaho walked out, dejected. He summoned an Ouroboros portal and stepped lightly through. He walked a few feet away from the portal and sat on the ledge, staring out at nothing for a long time.

“Mender Idaho,” called a voice behind him.

He turned around, confused. A man in a brown kilt, wearing two strange monocles and a hood came over to him. “How are you? Fine, I guess. You’re not in uniform?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been with us for thirty years and you haven’t aged a day.” Idaho stared at him. The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve gotten you confused with another Idaho-in-time. I see you as you are now. You’re just starting, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You haven’t even seen the Pilgrim yet. You haven’t even started working with Mender Dundee. You both have such a long partnership, you’re friends for years! There I go again.”

“Wait, wait – Mender?”

“Sure, that’s your title – well, it will be. You’re one of the best at it, too. You’re able to walk into any time period, and see exactly the few things that are just slightly off kilter and get it just right. Aaaand…” he tilted his head slightly sideways, “it’s what you’re made to do. C’mon, Idaho, let’s get started!”

He started walking toward the Pilgrim, following the Mender quietly. “How do you know all this?”

“You told me, Duncan Idaho, when I initiated you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mender Lazarus.”

I can fix everything...

Duncan Idaho stirred his coffee absently while sitting in the base, staring at the wall. He thought he could things flicker in the wall, like the fire surrounding Masonry. He turned to the laptop beside him, brushed his hand along the touchpad and looked again at the entry.

"Purgatory: believed by Western Catholics to be a place of purification, usually symbolized by the soul encased in purifying fire..."

There was a light thud of a coffee cup across from him. He looked across the table to see a very exhausted Suicidal Wombat, called Womby.

"Got no sleep?" Idaho asked, slowly closing the laptop.

Womby sighed, raised his coffee cup. "Time travel'll do it to ya."

"Yeah."

"When're you goin' to Oz?"

"I don't know if I'm going to bother going."

"Why not?"

"The reason why I wanted to go isn't good enough anymore."

"To save your girlfriend?"

"No. To save Masonry."

Womby sipped his coffee cup in silence. "You gotta let 'im go, mate."

"You didn't see his face."

"Whazzit?" He focused on Idaho.

"His eyes...blazing - angry - full of hate."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, here . . . where'd you see'im?"

"Star brought me to see him. And Mr. Frost. And he was - he was so evil! The things he said. He threatened us." Idaho focused on Womby. "His face, Womby, I can't get it out of my mind."

"You will." Again, Womby sipped his coffee and his concentration slipped out into the distance.

Idaho said, "I want to see him again."

"Ya think that's wise?"

"I don't know, but I feel this pull... maybe if I talk to him."

Womby shook his head. "Ya said Frosty was there? If he can't talk t'im, nobody can't. They loved each other, mate."

"He didn't."

"Who didn't?"

"Masonry didn't. He didn't love anyone, I don't think."

Womby set the coffee cup down and stared at him. "Then why d'ya wanna talk t'im? He don't care. Ya can't change a ghost if it's hauntin' some'in."

"What?"

"I said, 'Ya can't change a ghost.' You can appease it."

"It must want someone to do something."

"Or is angry at someone for doin' something."

Idaho looked down at the cup. "Star."

"Hm, maybe. But you go there an' he says 'Kill Star,' ya gonna do it?"

"No," Idaho answered quickly. "Then that starts the revenge spiral."

"Uh huh." Womby got up. "Lis'n. I ain' tellin' ya how ta feel. But I wouldn't do it, mate. He's beyond redemption." He started to walk away, then turned back. "He committed a few mortal sins. Even God don' forgive that." He pointed to the notebook. "He's in hell, mate. Accept it."

"Frost is gonna have ice cubes when he sees this fucking mess!"

Timetripper tried not to laugh as she manhandled the shop-vac into the quiet room area. Idaho bent to help her.

"Thank you, Sonic, for stating the obvious," Idaho snapped, bringing the vacuum in. "Now help me with this table?"

Sonic Butterfly flitted down on his gentle wings and took one end of the table. With a quick thrust of his rocket boots, he lifted the table and helped guide it out. Trip started the vacuum and the men went down the hall to talk.

"What the hell happened?"

"I brought Ariel down here for a talk."

"Ariel. Oh, the new chick. I can't keep 'em all straight, Idy." Sonic pretends to pull out a small notebook and makes a flipping motion, then pretends to pull out an imaginary pen and poises his hand over the imaginary notebook. "C'mon, details, man."

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Fuck you," he snapped jokingly. "You got laid at least? Chanted her name like I told you?"

Idaho rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Find the cli--"

Idaho whirled around quickly and punched him solidly in the jaw. "That's enough!" He burst into flame.

Sonic flipped head over heels in midair and forced himself to back away. Sonic laughed. "Idy's in love!"

"So what?" he snarled.

"Dude, you're not supposed to love 'em."

"I'm sure it's better if you do."

"No, it ain't. 'Cuz women hurt you, man, the sooner you realize that, the better."

"I hurt her first."

"Oh? Howzat?"

Idaho motioned pulling out an imaginary pad and pen. "My list."

Sonic nodded. "Oh yeah, man, you gotta stop bein' so nice t' people."

"It's the way he is, Sonic." Trip approached the two men. "Duncan, can you go burn the stones and dry them? I'll go get some new mats in a jiffy." She looked at Sonic. "Better get some ice for that jaw."

"Aw, c'mon," he pouted, "can'tja heal meh?"

Trip glared at him. "You deserved it." She walked on into the workshop.

Sonic flittered over to the quiet room and peeked over the now scorched bookcases. "Hey, Idy?"

"Hey, Sonnie?"

"Listen, man, I'm sorry. But, hey, uh... d'ja use protection?"

Idaho stopped sending bursts of fire along the floor to look up at him. "No."

"Aw man, did she go use Plan B?"

"Sonic, I don't--"

"Dude. You don't want little fire babies runnin' around already."

"They say clones are infertile."

"Doncha think you should get that checked?"

Idaho looked at the area they had been in. "I will, after this."

"Good man. I'm too fuckin' young t' be a godfather."

"Sonic, you're in your 30's."

"'at's what I said..." And he flew away.

Idaho came around the corner into his bedroom to see the scrap book lying on his bed. He looked at it curiously, picked it up, then went over see Darcy in the kitchen.

"Darce? Darce, what's this?"

Darcy looked up at Idaho. "I changed my mind. I'm staying."

"You are?"

Darcy finished stirring something in a pot. "An angel appeared out of Galaxy City and talked me into staying here."

Even Idaho knew who he meant by "an angel." "But you said that you were having a hard time starting up what you wanted to do. Half the city hates him."

"I know, I know, but she begged me. She got on her knees on the side of the plaza and begged me." He turned to Idaho. "What was I gonna do after that, say no?"

Idaho stared at Darcy. StarWyng? Landing? And then begging?

"While she was there, it hit me. I came up with a compromise." He poured macaroni from the pot into a colander. "I told her that I'd open up an office in Texas and live up here. I'll probably have to commute a lot, but I'll come back up here--"

Darcy was cut off by Idaho suddenly hugging him. "Geez, man, I've never seen a more huggy bunch than you heroes."

(The title comes from StarWyng saying to Masonry "I touch ground to say this" - her way of saying this is the highest of oaths she can offer.)

“Duncan.”

Idaho looked up at Darcy, who stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

“How’s it going?”

Idaho put down the crossword puzzle he was doing. Darcy smiled. Idaho followed Darcy’s gaze: “What, he did those?”

“No,” Darcy said. “He never did.” Darcy sat down on the edge of the bed. “Listen, Duncan. I’ve been thinking.” He picked up the scrapbook of Masonry’s exploits for the year that he had been a hero. “I’ve been unfair to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“From the moment you came out of that tank, I compared you to Nate. I wanted you to be him.” He held the scrapbook to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“But that’s all right.”

Darcy, with tears in his eyes, looked at him and smiled. “It’s not. You’re not a copy. You’re his twin.” He rapped Duncan’s head gently with his knuckles. “Get that through your thick skull, please.” He got up, holding the scrapbook close. “I’m going to be going back to Texas. I’m going to start up a Foundation there in Nate’s name, a foundation that’s going to start training social workers and teachers nationwide to help kids against bullies, teach bystanders stop helping bullies, and help kids who’ve been hurt by bullies, so hopefully Nate doesn’t appear again.” He peered at Duncan. “I’m going to need your help.”

Duncan jumped up. “Sure, whatever you need.”

He tapped the scrapbook. “Don’t bother them anymore.”

Idaho focused on the scrapbook, then nodded.

“I’m moving out after the first of the month. I’ve paid up until January. The landlord won’t mind you staying, or if you bring on a new roomie. I know that the base has a bedroom. I suppose you can stay there, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Y…you’re leaving?”

Darcy clutched the scrapbook closer. “Duncan, I have to. You have to be Duncan Idaho – or any other name you want. You can’t do it with me around.”

Idaho looked around, slightly scared.

“What about that Pill you told me about? She can help you out.”

“I could stay with her…” he mused. “Or she could at least help me figure out what to do—“

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Darcy said, exasperated. “We’ve gone grocery shopping before and things like that. I’ll help you with that before we leave, and the landlord’s a really nice guy. You’re not stupid, just young. And Karen could help you, too. There’s a line of ladies who’d help you with all kinds of domestic chores.” He grinned.

Idaho blushed. “I know, I know.”

Darcy sat down on the bed and said with a smile, “Nate told me about all his girls…”

(breaks are so it's a little easier on the eye)

:: [Tell]Operative Pill: (comm-unit rings)
:: [Tell]-->Operative Pill: Hello?
:: [Tell]Operative Pill: Hello, Idaho. (smiles) How are you, child?
:: [Tell]-->Operative Pill: Hi, Pill! Okay, how are you?
:: [Tell]Operative Pill: I'm well, very well. I was wondering if you might be free for dinner tonight.
:: [Tell]-->Operative Pill: Dinner? Sure! Where?
:: [Tell]Operative Pill: Do you know Perez Park? Come there. I'll send you a beacon to the longhouse.
:: [Tell]-->Operative Pill: All right.
:: Idaho: I'm sorry, that base is a maze.
:: Operative Pill: It's alright, child. The salmon isn't ready yet, anyway. You do like salmon, I hope.
:: Idaho: I don't know.
: Operative Pill: (smiles) Of course you don't. I'm sorry. We'll find out, won't we.
: Idaho: Oh, hello!
: Operative Pill: (smiles) Thank you, child. Wretched little creatures, those.
: Idaho: You look outfitted for hunting.
:: Operative Pill: Hm? (looks down and smiles) Not at all, dear. This is as close to formalwear as my people would get.
:: Idaho tilts his head.
:: Idaho: Formal?
:: Idaho: ::looks down::
:: Operative Pill: (laughs, slightly) You're delightful, don't worry. You'd have been very overdressed in a suit.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Idaho: Okay, then.
:: Operative Pill: Have a seat, I'm just finishing up the potlach.
:: Idaho: Potluck? Isn't that... a whole bunch of food everyone brings?
:: Idaho sniffs.
:: Operative Pill: (goes over to a small cedarwood cairn, poking at it.) Hm. Potlach, child. LACH. It's similar, really. But not the same.
:: Operative Pill: Most of what's left of the ceremonies is this--salmon, fire-cooked over a cedar plank to sear in the scents of wood and the light smoking.
:: Idaho: Cooking is a ceremony?
:: Operative Pill pulls out what appears to be a miniature salmon coffin, eyeing it critically.
:: Operative Pill: Part of one, yes. (looks back, smiling) Really, it was an excuse to join together, get drunk, and give lavish gifts to each other.
:: Operative Pill: But those days are long gone, sadly.
:: Operative Pill sets the salmon down, brushing her hands slightly.

:: Idaho: What tribe did you say you were from?
:: Idaho: Or did you..?
:: Operative Pill: I didn't. (smiles) But it's no secret, really. We were one of the great peoples of the pacific northwest of this country and canada.
:: Idaho: Oh...That's a long stretch of country.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) Yes, but there were many tribes.
:: Idaho: You must have lived on the coast, if you went whaling.
: Operative Pill: Mn. (smiles) Are you ready for a tongue-twister, child?
-- : Idaho: Other than your name?
: Idaho smiles.
: Operative Pill: Even worse, dear. (smiles) My people were--still are--the Nuu-chah-Nulth.
: Idaho: Nucha-Nulth. Yeah, that's hard.
: Idaho: What's it mean?
: Operative Pill: (smiles) Close enough, yes. What does it mean? (blinks)
:: Idaho: Nevermind, it must mean something like "The People" like other tribes.
:: Idaho: Do you have a reservation and everything?
: Operative Pill: Not at all. It's just been a very long time since I had to think of it. (smiles, quietly) Very long. It means, "to come around". As in, to come around Vancouver Island.
: Operative Pill: And I suppose perhaps we still do. I haven't been welcome there in a very long time.
: Idaho: Because of your job?
: Operative Pill pulls several stakes out of the salmon and slides it onto a plate. "Among other things, yes."
: Operative Pill: Here we go. (sets it in front of Idaho and pulls out a small knife for him)
: Idaho looks down.
: Idaho: It's got eyes.
: Operative Pill: You don't have to eat those, dear. (smiles) Take the flesh from the body, that's where the best meat is.
: Idaho takes the knife and pokes gingerly at it.
: Operative Pill: Watch for small bones, though.
: Idaho tilts his head examining it.
: Operative Pill: (is trying hard to stifle a big smile. Not completely successfully)
: Idaho: It doesn't look like the salmon I see at the store.
: Idaho lifts the skin with the point of the knife.

: Operative Pill: Would you like a beer with that? Or water? (smiles) What you get at the store has been cut into chunks already. This is very fresh.
: Idaho: What's supposed to go with it? I mean, what would your people drink with it?
: Idaho gently takes out bits of flesh with the knife.
: Operative Pill: These days, probably a light chardonnay. (smiles) But when I was a child, it was beer. Dark, and warm.
: Idaho: Warm beer?!
:: Operative Pill cackles slightly. "Refrigerators weren't common among the Nuu-chah-Nulth, child."
:: Idaho tastes the fish, then eats some.
:: Operative Pill pulls out a side basket of bread, wild mushrooms, and asparagus.
:: Idaho: Hey, this ain't bad.
:: Idaho: I mean... I mean, it's really good.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles)
:: Idaho spits out a bone.
:: Idaho: 'cept for that.
:: Operative Pill: Yes, don't swallow those.
:: Idaho: Can I have a piece of bread?
: Operative Pill pulls out a small knife and cuts off a small piece of salmon, chewing it slowly. "Help yourself, please."
: Idaho takes a piece.

: Idaho: How did you get started working for where you are?
: Operative Pill: Ah, right. Beer? Or water? (smiles) I always was a poor hostess.
: Idaho: I'll try the warm beer.
: Operative Pill: Good. (smiles) I can't get you drunk on water. (cackles)
: Operative Pill: One moment.
: Idaho: You're not a poor hostess at all. This is really good. - Drunk?
: Operative Pill hands Idaho a beer. Warm.
: Operative Pill: It's a joke, child. Maybe.
:: Idaho takes it.
:: Idaho sips it. "Tastes like twigs."
:: Operative Pill pops the cap off of her own beer and takes a healthy swallow.
:: Operative Pill: It's supposed to be horrid. It makes the salmon taste better. (cackles again)
:: Idaho laughs.
:: Operative Pill looks up at the tree and smiles. "So. How are you coming along, child?"
:: Idaho: So how did you end up here? Away from your tribe.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Operative Pill: (gentle smile) You first. I'm not drunk enough for that.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Idaho: I didn't think it would be that easy.
:: Idaho: I'm doing okay. That girl Raven, though, I can't get her out of my head.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) That might be a good thing, yes?
:: Idaho: And I did work with someone else named Twilight Umbra, and she was cute, but she didn't kiss me.
:: Idaho shakes his head.
:: Idaho: Something's wrong with her.
:: Operative Pill: Yes. (simply) She's badly broken. I don't know how, not yet.
:: Operative Pill picks out a mushroom and chews on it thoughtfully.

:: Idaho: Can she be fixed?
:: Idaho studies the asparagus, sipping the beer.
:: Operative Pill: I think the biggest problem is whether she wants to be fixed, child. But someone has hurt her very badly, to make her so angry and so cruel.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) You just bite into it. The base can be a little woody, but I cut that off for you already.
:: Idaho: Oh, that's how.
:: Idaho: I didn't know if I had to take those little things off or...I haven't had this yet with Darce.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) I'll warn you before you bite into the things that I laced with broken glass, child.
:: Idaho: I appreciate that. ::laughs::
:: Operative Pill: (smiles slightly)
:: Idaho: I met some more people that know my original.
:: Operative Pill: Oh? And how did they rate you, compared to your first twin?
:: Idaho fishes out more fish.
:: Idaho: I didn't ask.
:: Operative Pill: Mn. (draws from her beer again)
:: Idaho: I wanted them to tell me about him. But one said he obfus..obsu... obsomething stuff.
: Operative Pill: Ohsomething stuff? (tilts her head)
: Operative Pill: Obfuscate?
: Idaho: That's it.
: Idaho: She used lots of big words that I had no idea half of what she was saying.
: Idaho: It had to do with "conditioning". Her hair looked fine.
: Operative Pill: (cackles) Some people do that. They like to use big words to make up for their little brains.
: Operative Pill takes another piece of salmon.
: Idaho: Oh, maybe that's it. She had elf ears, though, and was really self-conscious about it.
: Operative Pill chews quietly on a fishbone.
:: Idaho: Self-conscious, right?
:: Operative Pill: I imagine so, once a gentle Teddy Bear asked her why her ears were so long. (smiles) You did, yes?
:: Idaho: Yeah. She got a little upset.
:: Idaho: Threatened to pull my heart out of my chest.
:: Operative Pill: ... (laughs) That's a little upset, yes.
:: Operative Pill: Oh, my, yes.
:: Idaho: I don't know about her, she scares me too.
:: Idaho: Lots of women around here are scary.
:: Operative Pill: Yes, you're surrounded by dangerous women, child. (cackles) Best give up now.
:: Idaho: Are you serious?
: Operative Pill: Mn. (slowly) Sort of. You ARE surrounded by dangerous women.

: Idaho: Though I can't think of even... I can't even think of having a relationship.
: Idaho: They're really good fighters. And hunters. ::grins sideways at her::
: Operative Pill: Well, you don't need to marry someone and have children a month after your birth, child. (smiles) And yes, I, too, am dangerous.
:: Idaho: Not to me.
:: Idaho swishes the beer around in the bottle.
:: Operative Pill: No. Not to you. You will always be safe with me, Idaho.
:: Idaho smiles and blushes.
:: Operative Pill looks out onto the lake, squinting briefly.
:: Idaho: But..?
:: Operative Pill: (simply) No but. Always.
:: Idaho: You're thinking about something, though.
:: Operative Pill: Mn. (glances at him) I was thinking that your father was not very responsible.
:: Idaho: For sending me out here?
:: Idaho motions with his arm.
:: Operative Pill: For bringing you into the world without giving you the experience and lessons to help you along the way.
:: Idaho: Out into all this? I guess he figured I can take care of myself somehow.
:: Operative Pill: And you will survive, I've no doubt. You're very fierce, very tough.
:: Idaho: I don't think he meant for the fire to happen.
: Operative Pill: Then that was the gods, laughing at him.
: Operative Pill: They do like to laugh. (quietly)
: Idaho: No, he thinks that there was some remnants of something in the vat he bought.
: Operative Pill: (cackles) Of course he does, child.
: Idaho: He can't tell the Phalanx that...then he'd get in real trouble.
: Operative Pill chews slowly on an asparagus stalk.

: Idaho: What gods?
: Operative Pill: I don't know. (shrugs) I never bothered with the gods of this area. They're too weak.
:: Idaho: You must have known about them when you were a child.
:: Idaho: If you can remember how to make this... ::motions to the dinner::
:: Operative Pill: Ah, those were the gods of my people, not of this area. (smiles)
:: Idaho: There's gods in different places?
:: Operative Pill: Oh, my, yes. (looks at him) Ask people here about Jaguar, they know nothing. Ask the Africans of Thunderbird, they know nothing. Many gods. Different gods.
:: Idaho: I know some people fight over them.
:: Idaho: I don't know why, though.
:: Operative Pill: Bah. (scoffs) They fight over the same god. Silly white men and their fickle god.
:: Idaho: Darcy tried to explain to me the difference between Christians and Muslims and I just got confused.
:: Operative Pill: Yes, it's very simple.
:: Operative Pill: They just don't say so.
:: Idaho: I kinda think that whatever's in your heart is right.
:: Operative Pill: Both sides worship the same god, a petty and jealous fellow with a long beard.
:: Idaho: Oh, yeah, I saw pictures.
:: Idaho: And a tree with an apple and a serpent...
:: Operative Pill: And each thinks that they are the favorite sons of this god, who as far as I can tell, doesn't like either.
:: Operative Pill glances at him and smiles.
:: Operative Pill: And a woman, let's not forget her.
:: Idaho nods.
:: Idaho: Though she fell for it. I bet he would have fallen for it, too.
:: Operative Pill: I've heard otherwise. (smiles) Always from men. (cackles)
:: Idaho chuckles.
:: Idaho: Guess I'm not manly enough.
:: Operative Pill: I think you'll have to ask your woman that, when you have one.
:: Operative Pill finishes her beer and leans back, smiling
:: Idaho: I'm in no hurry.
:: Idaho is still picking out bones.
:: Operative Pill: Indeed. You have time. There's no reason to bond with the first woman who bats her eyes at you, Idaho.
:: Idaho nods.
:: Idaho: I got other stuff to do.

: Operative Pill: ... "Other stuff"... (looks at him) Really?
: Idaho: Yeah...
: Idaho: I need to find Circle of Thorns because they have something to do with some cataclysmic event.
: Idaho: ::airquotes::
: Idaho: Whatever "cataclysmic event" means.
: Operative Pill: ... (cackles) Ah, yes. No time for the snake to find a cave, there is a world to restore.
: Idaho laughs.
: Operative Pill: It means, very very very bad.
:: Idaho: Oh, I'm sure there's time in between.
:: Idaho: Servant doesn't seem to be in all that of a hurry.
:: Operative Pill: There ofter is, yes. Hm? Servant?
:: Idaho: I think it's because he's afraid.
:: Idaho nods.
:: Idaho: His name's Servant-, that's what I know him as.
:: Operative Pill: Wait. (concerned) Who is this?
:: Idaho: There's something called "the Twelve" and--
:: Idaho: He's the leader of the group I'm in, the Paladins.
:: Idaho: He asked me to join up and I figured why not.
:: Operative Pill: Oh. (relaxing slightly) Your employer.
:: Idaho: I guess you could say that.
:: Idaho tilts his head.
:: Idaho: Well, he did pay me last night, now that I think about it.
:: Idaho: I would do it just to help him.
:: Idaho: He seems like an okay guy, but I think he's bothered by something.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) That's what employers do. (tilts her head, sighing)
:: Idaho: Why, you think you might know him?
:: Operative Pill: Bothered? Many people in a position like that have difficult choices to make. Difficult choices.
:: Operative Pill: And no, I don't. I was just thinking about you.

:: Idaho: I'm okay...
:: Operative Pill: You and your gentle, giant heart. (shakes her head slightly) You are, yes. I hope you will remain so.
:: Idaho: The scribe didn't even mention me.
:: Operative Pill: The... scribe? (has her full attention now) What is going on, Idaho.
:: Idaho: Oh....um...
:: Operative Pill: ... (gently) Is it a secret? I understand.
:: Idaho: Well Servant- found a book on a Thorn and brought it back.
:: Idaho: No, no...
:: Idaho: He studied it and it had a list of names.
:: Operative Pill nods.
:: Idaho: Some of the names he touched, they glowed.
:: Idaho: His name was in it, and so was mine - er, my original's.
:: Operative Pill: ... (slowly thinking) And this Servant-. He--is one of ? A good copy, like yourself?
:: Idaho: It was written by Doyst.. Doyses... some Russian guy - and he was keeping records...
:: Idaho: Yes, he's one of the Twelve, he thinks.
:: Idaho: The names that glow are potential candidates of being the Twelve.
: Idaho: Thing is, these twelve exist, "for good or ill" ::airquotes::
: Idaho: So I told him that he just needed to follow what his heart said.
: Operative Pill: (smiles) And what did he say to that?
: Idaho: He didn't look very comfortable.
: Operative Pill: No, one's heart often takes one to uncomfortable places, yes.
: Idaho: He doesn't know if what his heart says is right, I think.
:: Operative Pill: Yes, I can understand. Sometimes the heart is like Coyote. Tricky, and wily.
:: Operative Pill: It knows the truth, but it does not tell it to you directly. At times.
:: Idaho: But we found Doy--Dys - the Russian guy, and but he escaped. Before that though he picked out each member of the team and told them something that would happen to them.
:: Idaho: Except me.
:: Operative Pill: ... (concerned again) Not you? Why not?
:: Idaho: I don't know.
:: Idaho: I didn't ask anyone, I figured he just didn't see me - though I was standing right against the wall...
:: Idaho: Right in his line of sight.
:: Operative Pill: ...
:: Idaho: What?
:: Operative Pill: Perhaps it is hard, to see a good copy with the Second Sight. (musing slowly) Or perhaps he had nothing to warn you about.

:: Idaho: That's good, right?
:: Idaho: If nobody can see me or my future.
:: Operative Pill: Perhaps. Perhaps he saw that you had no future, which would not be good.
:: Operative Pill: Or perhaps he ignored you because he was jealous of your biceps. (sighs) Time will tell.
:: Idaho looks at the now empty bottle of beer.
:: Idaho smiles a little.
:: Operative Pill watches the sunset, smiling.
:: Idaho sets down the remains of his dinner.
:: Idaho: This was really good.
:: Idaho takes a mushroom out of the basket.
:: Idaho: My compliments to the chef.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) Yes, it was. It is nice, to be a person as well as a hunter. Once in a while, anyway. (smiles)
:: Operative Pill: Take the rest, Idaho. It's too much for one small old crone.
:: Idaho: But that's what you are, a person...
:: Idaho: A person first.
:: Operative Pill: ... (smiles quietly) Yes, you're right. You're very wise, for someone so naive.
:: Idaho: Nah.
:: Idaho: I don't know a lot.
: Operative Pill: Knowing isn't wisdom.
: Operative Pill: Wisdom is understanding.
: Idaho: I don't understand a lot, either.
: Idaho: It comes with time, though.
: Operative Pill: (laughs) Yes, I'm sorry to say that it does, yes.
: Idaho smiles.
: Operative Pill starts collecting the dishes.
: Idaho: Let me help.
: Operative Pill: Down to the water, it'll wash easily.
:: Idaho: Did you do this too when you were a kid?
:: Operative Pill starts washing dishes in the water, glancing at the Hydra.
:: Operative Pill: Mn. My Father would never be seen doing something so mundane.
:: Operative Pill: He had loftier matters to attend to.
:: Idaho: Like what?

:: Idaho is looking at the dishes but listening intently.
: Operative Pill: He was a leader of our people. He would have to keep the hunters, and the shamans, and the warriors, from killing each other.
: Operative Pill: He was very good at it.
: Idaho: Oh, a mediator?
: Idaho: I think that's what it's called...
: Operative Pill: A chief is always a mediator, Idaho. The good ones, anyway.
: Idaho looks sideways at her.
: Idaho: You were a chief's daughter?
: Operative Pill: The last time I checked, I still am. (smiles)
: Idaho: You were - am, right... are... sorry.
: Operative Pill dries a plate with the hem of her dress.
: Idaho: Is this fireproof?
: Idaho holds up the plate.
: Operative Pill: (laughs) No. Don't burn up my dishes, please.
: Idaho: It would dry faster.
: Operative Pill: They'll be dry by morning. I'm patient.
: Idaho stacks them next to him.
: Operative Pill: (smiles quietly) You will be too, in time. You're young, still.
: Idaho: So you can go back, then.
: Idaho laughs.
: Operative Pill: ... (smiles gently) No, Idaho. I thought that perhaps I could, perhaps forty years ago.
: Idaho: But why not now?
: Operative Pill: Because I tried, back then. (smiles, standing) And I was wrong.
:: Operative Pill collects the dishes.
:: Idaho: Let me get that.

:: Operative Pill: (stands aside) Such a young gentleman.
:: Idaho cradles the dishes in his arms.
:: Idaho: I guess it's supposed to be this way, right?
:: Idaho: Why shouldn't I help?
:: Operative Pill: Because dishes, child, are women's work. Like listening to the snake, and biting the apple, yes?
:: Operative Pill: But you may feel free to free me from oppression. (smiles) I don't like dishes, truth be told.
: Idaho: It should be shared.
: Idaho: I don't care much for dishes either. Darcy's got a dishwasher.
: Operative Pill: (cackles) He'll regret THAT.
: Operative Pill: (opens a small locker and places the dishes inside.)
: Operative Pill: Just don't expect me to share shoveling snow. (smiles) I have fire arrows for that.
: Idaho: Oh, even better...
:: Idaho: Just walk through.
:: Operative Pill: (cackles) Yes, you will save your household on heating costs, mn.
:: Idaho: Though it's getting harder to keep the fire going...
:: Operative Pill: It is? (blinks)
:: Idaho: This is what I am naturally.
:: Operative Pill: (gently) Watch the leaves, Idaho.
:: Operative Pill: Thank you.
:: Idaho: I have to concentrate to keep it down.
:: Operative Pill: (impishly) That is the curse of being so very hot, yes.
:: Idaho laughs.
:: Idaho: Is not!
:: Idaho: When I have to make it even hotter, though, that's where it's tough.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles, fanning herself idly with her hand) Yes, you don't need to tell ME that.
:: Idaho: All you need to do is put new arrow tips.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Operative Pill: They're expensive, child. (smiles) That's why I work for the government.
:: Operative Pill: They can buy them. I'll enjoy using them.
:: Idaho: What do I do, Pill, that... how come... I'm not *that* good-looking...
:: Operative Pill: Hm? (looks at him) That makes women swoon for you?
:: Idaho: There's lots of other heroes that're better than me.
:: Idaho: Yeah, that.
:: Operative Pill: There's lots of heroes that are stronger, perhaps.
:: Operative Pill: But it's very simple Idaho. And there are two answers. The easy one, you get for free.

:: Idaho: Okay.
:: Operative Pill: They swoon, because they can see that you CARE. People who care--are not common.
:: Idaho tilts his head confusedly.
:: Idaho: But we're heroes.
:: Idaho: It's what we do.
:: Operative Pill: "Hero" is a name, Idaho. Names can be accurate, or they can be false, or--like yours--they can be tricky.
:: Idaho: It's something I should try to be, though.
:: Operative Pill: Yes, you should. (smiles) And you're very good at it, too.
:: Idaho: And you too, or you wouldn't be doing this.
: Operative Pill: ... (blinks, then starts laughing)
: Idaho: What's so funny?
: Operative Pill: Oh, child. No. Pill is no heroine. No, no, no.
: Idaho: We save people and we protect banks and we do stuff like that and--why not?
: Operative Pill: I enjoy fine things, and good hunting, and if I may save people along the way, then so much the better.
: Idaho blinks.
: Operative Pill: But make no mistake. I am huntress first, child, and hero second.
: Idaho smiles a little.
:: Idaho: No, huntress first, a person second. A hero if it's on the way.
:: Operative Pill cackles.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Operative Pill: You see? You're going to make me swoon.
:: Idaho laughs.

:: Idaho: So what's the second answer and what do I need to do to pay for it?
:: Operative Pill: (sighs gently) I'm going to skip the first several things that come to mind as payment, and ask for this, instead:
:: Operative Pill: When I tell it to you, you will keep firmly in mind that you hear from an old woman who has seen--too many things, really. Too, too many.
:: Idaho: If you understand them, you have wisdom.
:: Idaho: That's good, right?
: Operative Pill: (gently) Not always, child.
: Operative Pill: Sometimes, you understand so much that you stop understanding the things that matter most.
: Operative Pill: BUT.
: Operative Pill: We were talking about you, and women. A MOST important topic.
:: Idaho: Okay, okay.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Operative Pill: Do you know that many men, they prefer to be with women who--have not yet been entered by the snake?
:: Idaho: I don't know what the difference is, but yeah.
:: Operative Pill: The difference is that--if a man is very worried that his snake is weak, the woman will know it if she has had a stronger and better snake. (scoffs)
:: Idaho looks thoughtful.
:: Operative Pill: So he wants a cave for his snake that doesn't know any better.
:: Idaho: Oh, nothing to compare it to.
:: Operative Pill: Exactly. There are some women who are the same way. About hearts, rather than about caves and snakes.
:: Operative Pill: They want a heart that does not know what it deserves, so that they can decide for it what it should have.
:: Idaho: And I know men need to be a certain size or something.
:: Operative Pill: ... What?! (cackles wildly)
:: Idaho nods.
:: Operative Pill: Who told you that?
:: Idaho: I saw it on TV.
: Idaho: And I guess it needs to stay up for a long time.
: Operative Pill: (scoffs)
: Idaho: But not more than four hours.
: Operative Pill: Child, stop. Stop! This will take more time to explain than I have, unless you are going to stay here tonight.
: Operative Pill: And we would both regret that in the morning.
: Idaho smiles gently.
: Operative Pill: Suffice it to say. It is FAR more important how the snake coils than how large it is.
: Operative Pill: And it will stay up for twenty minutes, perhaps, or less, or more.
: Idaho: I... haven't timed it. ::blushes::
:: Operative Pill: And there are many, many things to do before the snake spits its medicine, and after it is spent. (smiles)
:: Operative Pill: And don't trust your TV. It is a very poor god.
:: Idaho: That's what Derick said.
:: Operative Pill: And he was right.

:: Idaho: How do I find out about stuff in the world, especially fast?
:: Operative Pill: ... Can you read?
:: Idaho nods.
:: Idaho: And work a computer. Darce showed me.
:: Operative Pill: Alright, then. I have a book for you. One moment.
:: Operative Pill: Come here, child. (triumphantly)
:: Operative Pill: This is for you. (hands him a copy of the 1958 edition of Ann Landers' Guide to Life for Young People.)
:: Idaho opens the cover.
:: Idaho: Who's this Ann Landers?
:: Idaho: And this is old.
:: Operative Pill: A woman with a mouth as wide as the ocean. (smiles) And it IS old.
:: Idaho: Is the stuff in here still good?
:: Operative Pill: Well, you tell me. Are there still women and men?
:: Idaho: Yes.
:: Idaho: It's all in here?
:: Operative Pill: Do men still wish to rut? Even when there are other things to worry about?
:: Idaho: I...guess.
:: Operative Pill: And do women still want to rut with them, when they know they shouldn't?
:: Idaho: I guess so, too.
:: Operative Pill: (triumphantly) Then I suppose it's still good, what's in there.
:: Operative Pill: (cackles) You had me worried for a moment.
:: Idaho tucks it in his coat.
:: Idaho: Is there a test on it? ::winks and blushes::
:: Operative Pill: (laughs) Not from me, no. But you may find the truth about handling your snake to be quite a relief. She was exceptionally honest, for years ago. (impish again)
:: Idaho: Okay.
: Operative Pill: Read it. (nods)
: Operative Pill: And Idaho?
: Idaho: I'll get it back to you in a couple of days.
: Idaho: Yeah?
: Operative Pill: (quietly) I meant what I said to you. This place will always be a place of safety for you, while Pill is still alive.
: Operative Pill: Always. You understand? If you need a safe place, you come here.
: Idaho nods.
: Idaho: I understand.
: Idaho: I wish I could do the same for you. I don't have anyplace.
:: Idaho: But I can protect you with this...
:: Operative Pill: Good. (smiles) Idaho, you've done more good for me than you know.
:: Idaho points to his chest.
:: Idaho: It's all I have.
:: Operative Pill: ... (quietly smiles) Thank you, young man. I will treasure that.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Operative Pill: (drily) I may need to run my hands over it once in a while, to make sure I still believe it. (half-wink)
:: Idaho: I'm glad I made you happy. - ::grins::
:: Idaho thrusts out his chest.
:: Idaho inclines his head.
:: Idaho: G'head.
:: Operative Pill: ... (laughs) No, no. Don't tempt the old crone, Idaho. I've been doing very well, not taking advantage of you.
:: Operative Pill pats his chest maternally.
:: Idaho smiles.
:: Idaho: Good enough.
:: Operative Pill: Let me continue to be proud of myself, eh?
:: Idaho: You know, that Sapphire Knight...
:: Idaho: Maybe the two of you...
:: Operative Pill: Mn. What about him?
:: Idaho intertwines his fingers.
:: Operative Pill: ... (laughs) He's too young, too, child.
:: Idaho: Oh, but I bet he's got a lot in him.
:: Idaho: And he's probably lonely.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) I would not cure him of that, child.
:: Idaho: Okay, so matchmaking is out as a side job...
:: Operative Pill: (laughs quietly) Perhaps not. I am a difficult woman to match with, just ask my husband.
:: Idaho: I think if I asked him he'd punch me or something.
:: Operative Pill: Unlikely. (smiles, slightly rueful this time) He has been dead for some time.
:: Idaho: Ah..uh - but you talk about him like he's still around.
:: Operative Pill: He is. (smiles again) And my father. And I will be too, when I have left this body and rejoined with them.
:: Idaho: I...I don't get it.
:: Operative Pill: (smiles) Look around you, Idaho. Everywhere you look, there is life, and there is death.
:: Idaho nods.
: Operative Pill: (motions to the pier) Those are trees. But dead.
: Operative Pill: Leaves, but dead. (at his feet)
: Operative Pill: (pats her belly) Fish, but dead. (smiles)
: Idaho: And really good fish, too!
: Operative Pill: (smiles) Perhaps better to us, dead, than to the minnow, alive. You see?
: Operative Pill: You do not-- (stops, surprised)

: Operative Pill glances at Raven and smiles.
: Idaho: Huh?
: Idaho: Uh...oh.
: Idaho: Hi.
: Operative Pill: Hello, Broken Child.
: Idaho: Hi.
:: Street Raven: yo
:: Street Raven: ho
:: [Tell]Operative Pill: I think you have a stalker, child. (cackles lightly)
:: Street Raven: ho
:: Street Raven has joined the team
:: [Tell]-->Operative Pill: That's not good.
:: Operative Pill: How are you, dear?
:: [Tell]Operative Pill: Perhaps not. It's hard to say.
:: Idaho: How... how have you been?
:: Street Raven: shhhh... be vewy vewy qwiiet, I'm hunting wabbits... heh
:: Idaho: They're that way.
:: Idaho: points East.
:: Operative Pill: They're awfully easy to hunt. (smiles) You should aim for something more challenging.
:: Street Raven: heh
:: Idaho: ::hisses:: Don't!
:: Operative Pill glances at Idaho and smiles quietly.

:: Idaho: So... you need anything? Or can I help with anything?
:: Street Raven: Just what is help anyway?
:: Idaho looks confusedly at her.
:: Operative Pill: It's that thing that you do, to make someone else's life better.
:: Street Raven looks at Pill
:: Operative Pill: Perhaps it's been too long since you've thought of it? But at some point, you must've.
:: Street Raven: a trite answer, and untrue
:: Operative Pill: Ah. Correct a foolish old woman, then.
:: Street Raven: platitudes to hide meaning
:: Street Raven: beatitudes to self worth
:: Idaho: So what's wrong with that?
:: Operative Pill: As opposed to attitudes to self destruction.
:: Idaho: What's wrong with making yourself feel better and making another person feel better?
:: Street Raven: my my such language
: Street Raven: :: laughs wildly ::
: Operative Pill 's eye narrows slightly.
: Operative Pill: Child, you are unwell. Come, let me help you.
: Street Raven: certain pathways are paved with such, and I see many many roads all parallel
: Street Raven: :: Laughs again ::
: Street Raven: why oh why do you assume it is I who must fly, and be the one with the bug that needs a mother ly hug?
: Operative Pill: ... (smiles, a very different kind of smile)
: Operative Pill: You are no Coyote, child. You are all tricks, but there is no joy in it.

Idaho: She's right.
Street Raven: Coyotes run around, on the ground and their tricks are just the chasing of sticks, and into thorns that prick
Street Raven: :: laughs ::
Idaho: Listen...you sure you're okay?
Operative Pill: (gently) Of course she isn't, Idaho. Step back, please. She's heavy with Shadows, I think.
Idaho: We do want to help.
Idaho: Shadows?
Street Raven: oh the places you'll go when the innocence is lost as the requisite cost
Operative Pill: The tricksters who seek to destroy, rather than enlighten.
Street Raven: truth always shows free, though those who speak it decide waht it should be
Idaho: Do you like to destroy things?
Idaho: Because if you do, it's like death...
Operative Pill: Idaho. She may not control her own mind, be gentle.
Operative Pill: You know your spirit. Let it guide you.
Street Raven: to toy is not to detroy, little boy
Idaho: Death is part of life, so is destruction.
Operative Pill: ...
: Operative Pill: Be very careful with her, Idaho.
: Idaho: But she's hurting.
: Operative Pill: Yes, and we must do what we can.
: Street Raven: Do your eyes deceive you, or is the deception the deception?

: Operative Pill: But there are many ways to lose your innocence. And the worst of them have nothing to do with snakes and caves.
: Idaho: How can we help someone if they don't want to be helped?
: Operative Pill: No.
: Street Raven has quit the team
: Operative Pill: Very slowly, very firmly, and very--very--carefully. Do not lower your guard.
Idaho: I don't want to be the one to hurt her more, either, though.
Operative Pill sighs. "I wish I'd paid more attention to our shamans."
Operative Pill: No, you're right. First things, first. You know the shamans of your own people, yes?
Idaho: I can go read up about it - yeah.
Operative Pill: Perhaps if we can catch her, they can see what there is to see.
Operative Pill: She is either mad, like a rabid dog, or possessed.
: Idaho: Rabid dogs are put to sleep.
: Operative Pill: Rabid people are not, though. (glances at him and smiles)
: Idaho: Oh, well that's good.
: Idaho: How to catch her, though... I can't run up to her and grab her.
: Operative Pill: First things first. If she is mad, she needs medicine. If she is steeped with shadows, she needs magic.
: Operative Pill: We will have to trick the trickster, I suppose. (smiles)
: Idaho: I don't have the smarts for that.
: Operative Pill: No, but you are clearly the bait for the trap. (smiles again)
: Idaho blinks.
: Idaho: Oh... me. Great.
: Idaho: Don't tell me I have to kiss her.
: Operative Pill: (smiles) No. But she must believe that you might.
: Idaho swallows and looks uncomfortable.

: Operative Pill: That will bring her into the net, seeking the destruction of your innocence.
: Idaho: Is that what she's after? But why?
: Idaho: There's plenty of other people out there...
: Operative Pill: I don't know, child. (gently) If she is mad, then she is mad and in love.
: Operative Pill: Idaho, innocence makes women swoon, but it also makes the shadows hungry.
: Idaho: Do I have something missing?
: Idaho: Or something more?
: Operative Pill: ... (smiles) Would you like for me to check for you? (cackles)
: Idaho glances down.
: Idaho: Nope, still there.
: Idaho grins.
: Operative Pill: (more seriously) You have something more, child. Much more. They will never have it, and it drives them mad.
: Operative Pill: They are cold, and cruel, the shadows.
: Idaho: She used them... to wake me up.
Operative Pill: ... Wait. (alertly) Explain yourself.
Idaho: I got hit and went down. She used shadows to...
Idaho: It was like ... oily... ropes.
Idaho: Or snakes.
Operative Pill: (slowly) So, then. It is the darkness, after all. (nods) Alright.
Operative Pill looks out over the lake.
Idaho: But if she used it to get me up, it shouldn't be that bad. They're tamed?
: Operative Pill: Shadows are tricky things, Idaho. They let you believe that you control them, while they strangle you.
: Operative Pill: She is in serious danger--worse, if she does not see it herself.
: Operative Pill looks at him, fiercely.
: Idaho sighs.
: Idaho notes Pill's looking at him.
: Operative Pill: You must consult with your magicians. And we will find a way to trap her, and tame her shadows, before she hurts you, or someone else.
: Idaho: I can do that.
: Operative Pill grins, very much like a lioness might.
: Operative Pill: I know you can.
: Idaho: And if you need me to be bait...
Operative Pill: It is time to hunt, now. And consult with them on that, see if they can keep you safe. If not, there are other baits we can use.
Idaho: Okay.
: Idaho: I'd better head home.
: Operative Pill: (smiles and nods) Yes, you'd better. Thank you for dinner, Idaho.
: Idaho: I'll go down to MAGI in the morning.
: Idaho: But you made dinner for me.
: Operative Pill reaches for his hands, gently.
: Idaho: I should be thanking you.
: Idaho lets her take them.
: Operative Pill: Yes. But you made it worth making. (smiles) So we can thank each other and be done with it, yes?
: Idaho smiles.
: Idaho: Next time, though I'll bring a lavish present like you said.
: Operative Pill: ... (smiles) You brought one already, Idaho. You brought that giant, gentle heart of yours.
: Idaho kisses her gently on the cheek.
: Operative Pill: (smiles, letting him kiss her. Gently) Go on, then. Good night, young man.
: Idaho pats the book in his coat.
: Idaho: Thanks for this. Good night.
: Operative Pill smiles and nods.