The Cat and the Coal Canary (Private with Saoirse)

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Amongst the book stacks of Beacon's hearty library, Pericles marched with respectful steps. His large frame paradoxically seemed to fill up the entire alley of each space between the shelves, and yet, Pericles stance was one of reverent deference to the bound pages before him.

Like a book mark, he was an obstruction to the library, but one shaped and formed so as to not damage, but rather to guide through the sea of verbiage that clustered underneath Pericles' trailing fingers as he traced the spines of the giants before him in search of words beyond his perception.

The hand paused its motion and body dragged to a stop with them. Like an anchor hooking onto a shoal, Pericles' hand grasped the beveled edge of leather long dried in place with steam that cooled in a fraction of the tome's existence.

"Agariste's Treatise on Molding Nations." by Agariste Alcmaeonidae.

"Ah..." Pericles finally spoke, his gentle exclamation enough to kick up the smallest motes of dust embroidered onto the leather's dimpled surface, "There you are, Great Grandmother."

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Saoirse adored the school library. What wasn't there to love about a place where respectful silence while one read a book was not only an enforceable state, but also a societal norm?

Unlike her other forays into the forest of rustling leaves and leaflets, today's excursion into the library had a goal that had not been hers to set: she had an essay to write about a particular period in the Kingdom's history. Unlike her peers, Sei had exactly zero knowledge of this period, having lived her entire childhood in a time and place where information about it wasn't embedded into the cultural zeitgeist by virtue of the simple fact that the events about which her essay would be written hadn't happened yet.

Her target today was Manoeuvres and Manipulations: An In-Depth Discussion of the Court of King Vesalius Veridian by Alexander Alizarin. As she turned into the aisle where it should be located, she found herself staring into the back of a broad-shouldered giant of a young man who had stopped to look at one of the volumes on a shelf halfway down the aisle.

"There you are, Great Grandmother," a soft, deep voice said almost reverently.

Sei smiled. Books had been one of the only ways she'd felt connected for a long time during her stay with the Curator, and now they were the only way to be connected to them, so she understood well the feeling. Looking at the shelves around her, she noticed that the book she'd be looking for would be on the top shelf just past the young man, well out of her reach without a stepstool.

"Pardon me," she said, quietly enough to not disturb the other patrons, but forcefully enough to ensure he knew that it was his attention she sought. "Would you be so kind as to retrieve Alizarin's Maneuvers for me? It should be just there," she asked, gesturing to the shelf before muttering a few Words. "Iat Fol Qas," she breathed, and a few motes of silver light floated out from her outstretched hand and settled on the book she needed.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles large figure would shift ever so slightly in stance at the sound of Saoirse' voice. Pericles' hands would pincer around the tome he selected and gently peel it way from the stuck place that all books seem to find themselves in when they have not been pondered for a while.

Tome grasped to his chest, Pericles would turn to the new voice, initially completely missing sight of them as his 6'8" frame dwarfed their 5" flat stature. Seeing the rising motes of light, Pericles would initially trail them in their motions, as all creatures would instinctively do, finding them clutching onto a book only a little above his brow, like dew clings to grass. Then, his eyes would return from their journey back downwards and even follow the motes to their source, where his eyes would cross paths with a young woman, whose complexion was that of a refined fighter, neither reliant on strength nor basked in cowardice.

Pericles' mind would replay the words he heard once more for him and as the broken record echoed, the young man would gently grasp the grimoire indicated, briefly glancing at its surface as he rolled his wrist downwards and presented the work to the stranger before him.

"Of course, and please forgive the by and by." Pericles finally responded, his face one of contemplation as his hair like a lion's mane framed his appearance.

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Her intended volume was retrieved after a moment's pause by her impromptu helper.

"Thank you," Sei accepted the book and looked her fellow student of history up and down. He was classically handsome, with curly locks of dark hair that framed his face well. Based on his complexion Sei guessed that he was from the part of the world that was now called Mistral, or perhaps Vacuo?

Glancing at the tome in his grasp, she noted the title and author's name - had his great grandmother perhaps written the volume he was holding? "It is not an easy task to reshape an entire nation, unless its people already wish it to be so shaped. What manner of insights might be found among those pages?" she asked curiously before stowing her own book in her satchel.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

A twinkle of mirth and adoration entered Pericles' eyes at her words, "Over a century later and her deception still works."

Schooling his expression, Pericles spoke once more, "Forgive my impudence, I do not mean to jest at your inquiry. Agariste's Treatise on Molding Nations is indeed the title of the work, however the use of molding is deliberately misleading. Agariste wanted to write to the people of Mistral both the nobility and common classes on the declining nature of the empire. She had long since seen the writing on the wall that came with the nation's stagnating bureaucracy, caused by its overt reliance on tradition and denial of new technology and ideas. However, she knew that her work, despite her position, would have been tossed aside before even the first line was read if people knew what it was going to be about. So, she framed the work as if it was about molding a nation and the formation of Mistral, rather than on a molding nation and the decay of Mistral."

"The work examines what is needed in order to mold a nation so that the inevitable mold of complacency and rigidity is unable to set in." Pericles explains proudly, as he opens the book to the afterword, which reads:

As I'm sure you've long since come to realize, you have been duped by the work before you. I hope you can forgive me, and find solace in your damaged pride, knowing that you now know more than anyone else who has failed to read this work in its entirety,e and, you likely have come to understand, at least in part, the purpose behind this work, if you're completion of it is any indication...

Closing the book, Pericles continues, "So, to answer your question, the insights of a woman who loved her nation, but would not be blind to the truth, can be found in the margins of this work. What of the piece you have selected; are there musings beyond mundane mumbles to be gleamed within it's fibers?"

[Saoirse Luíseach]

"The work examines what is needed in order to mold a nation so that the inevitable mold of complacency and rigidity is unable to set in."

Oh? Oh! That was clever indeed!

"And the nobles would acquire it due to the title, and expound upon its virtues quite vociferously while claiming to have already put some of its recommendations into practice, not realizing that such boasting was a tacit admission to being part of the very problem that the work was criticizing. The common folk would first acquire the book in an attempt to learn more about the processes by which the nobility controlled the nation, only to find that the means by which such control is accomplished are one and the same means that they themselves use in carrying out their daily business, but applied at a different scope, and perhaps less tactfully."

As to her own selection... "I rather hope so, though I will admit that I am only reading it in order to acquire a basic understanding of the time period in question, as I lack the same cultural background as my peers due to my... sheltered upbringing. I had not heard of this King until the assignment was given, so I have rather a lot of catching up to when it comes to history. I expect that my essay will differ greatly in tone from my peers, however, due to this same fact. I possess no preconceived notions of the heroism or villainy of any historical figure, so I may arrive at a much different conclusion about certain events than the cultural understanding of them would put forth." She was greatly looking forward to it, in fact. She rather enjoyed being counterculture, as it turned out - another thing she never would have learned had she remained with the Curator.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

"Insight in ignorance." Pericles concludes from her words, a deep, and comedically almost villainous sounding chuckle erupting deep from his throat, "It appears that such musings apply to both the works in our possessions. In one part, intentional, in another, by deceived minds."

Looking at Saoirse once more, Pericles reevaluated the person before him, both in mind and body she appeared otherworldly, and like him, like an individual caught out of time, "I would like to inquire about the fascinating artistry that adorns your form, evoking remembrances of some of the more esoteric histories I've informed myself upon, but I have been rude enough as is. Please forgive my lacking manners, it is ill-becoming of myself."

Stepping back, Pericles clasps a closed fist to his chest as the other hand bends to fold behind his back while his head bows slightly, not at a straight angle, but at a twisting tilt, leaving his left temple farther forward than the left and allowing his right eye to never leave her form at the bow, "It is a pleasure to meet you, oh stranger of these sacred stacks. I am Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias, son of Dryo of the Alcmaeonidae imperial dynasty of Mistral, son of Ramses of the Ozymandias courtier lineage to the monarchies of Vacuo, a studier of lost echoes and buried tales, and known by the epithet of Percy, to those I call friend. Might I request your name, oh honorable stranger?"

[Saoirse Luíseach]

It would hardly be rude of the young man to inquire about the facial markings she had given herself after gaining her freedom, but she was glad that he elected not to all the same. Explaining their significance would take no little time, and would dredge up memories of place that no one could return to: something Sei had no desire to do at the moment.

A formal introduction was paradoxically exceedingly uncommon in this age but a comfortable situation for her. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Pericles of House Ozymandias. I am Saoirse Aoife Níc Luíseach, daughter of Fiachra Oisín Ó Luíseach and Máire Caoimhe Níc Aodhagáin, of the House of Lightbringers and the Dynasty of Fire. If I am to name you as Percy, then I ask that you reciprocate the familiarity and call me Sei." She relaxed her shoulders, bending forward slightly at the waist and dipping her head while bringing her right hand up, fingers together, to almost touch her forehead, before straightening. She was all too happy to observe the protocol of an introduction, as the ritualized process of it forestalled any awkwardness surrounding the act that would surely have presented itself otherwise, as it had done when she'd tried to introduce herself to her other peers in the custom of the modern era.

Saoirse was unsure if she preferred the formality of Percy's introduction because it standardized the interaction, thus preventing her from overthinking it, or because it was a small, inobtrusive reminder of home that didn't cause her thoughts to immediately run to dwelling on- she forcefully quashed that line of thought, knowing that it would not now or ever help her to acclimatize to her new reality.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles' eyes would sparkle in faint recognition, "The Dynasty of Fire... Why doth that name elude me now? Forgive my ignorance, but could you remind me of the Dynasty of Fire, I believe it is been long since I studied the bounds of anthropology and the bowels of antiquity that stretches beyond Mistral and Vacuo's shores."

"Regardless, I meet you well, Sei, and I meet you as a friend." Pericles answered in time to her introduction as he stepped sideways to allow Sei to pass, "If it would please you, perhaps we could recline and discuss these and other matters more."

Pericles' hand would gesture to some of the study tables woven into the empty spaces between the bookshelves, many of them long since catching dust from underuse.

[Saoirse Luíseach]

"Why doth that name elude me now?" her companion mused, and Sei winced slightly as she strode over to the indicated table, retrieving her selected tome and a notebook (truly a remarkable invention, this 'loose leaf notebook paper') before taking a seat.

"Fret not, my friend Percy," she said as she cracked open the history book to its table of contents. "Had you claimed to have heard of my family, you would have named yourself a liar. I'm afraid that no records of their existence survived to the present day." Finding the section she'd chosen to write her essay on - the attempt to drive a wedge between the Minister of the Exchequer and the Head Butler, thus weakening the Crown's ties to the brokers of soft power in the Court, which resulted in the chain of events that lead to the King dissolving the Court, a decision that would take centuries to reverse, only for the Great War to break out shortly after, causing the decision to reverse the dissolution to become moot.

"In the days before the Kingdom of Vale, this part of Sanus was at one time ruled by a man known as Lugh the Lawbringer," Sei began, and found herself surprised that she was feeling only positive nostalgia at repeating the old bedtime story her mother used to tell her. "He ascended to power after he killed his father Balor, who was a wicked man who ruled through fear and tyranny. Upon his death, his kingdom was divided amongst his twelve children, one of whom was my ancestor, Niamh the Lightbringer. She was so named because her very presence seemed to brighten any room she entered, even when she was an infant. Her descendants were called an Luíseach - the Lightbringers, and I inherited the name from my father.

"One summer, a neighboring kingdom, which was ruled by one of Father's distant relatives, a descendent of Niamh's brother Ciarán, found itself at war with a group of nomads who hailed from the Unbroken Sands." Sei paused, tilting her head slightly. "I suppose that part of the world is known as Vacuo, now? I'm not entirely certain how far the boundaries of the forests and deserts have moved in the many years it has been since that time." She shook her head. "The descendants of the Little Dark One called to the Lightbringers for assistance, and my father personally lead a troop to the outlands to find the leader of the nomads and ask them why they had come all this way to make war with his cousins. When he found them, they answered him that they had been driven from their home by a monster of unprecedented size that had risen out of the sands, and they were searching for a hero strong enough to help them reclaim their homeland. He fought their leader to a standstill, and joined them on a journey to the Unbroken Sands to slay the monster and restore the tribe's ancestral homelands to them." She grinned, remembering her mother's expression when she'd originally told Sei the story.

"The battle went on for months as they chased the creature back and forth across the desert. In the end, they were able to kill the monster only when the tribal chief sacrificed his life to allow my father to land the killing blow. The chief's son took over as leader of his people, while the chief's daughter insisted on accompanying her father's body to be buried in the homeland of his avenger, as was her people's custom. After burying her father, the girl confessed her feelings to my father, and the two were married shortly after. My grandfather's magic had allowed him to create fire in any place the sunlight touched, and his siblings and children all had powers relating to fire. The alliance forged between the nomads and my father's people was known as the Dynasty of Fire."

Her mood soured as she recalled what had happened next. "Unfortunately, not all the kingdoms were as thankful to my father as his cousins of the Dark were, and some of them banded together, stirring up the populace to raise an army against him. As their forces approached my home, my parents made a deal with a powerful sorcerer to hide me away, lest their name be forgotten to the sands of time. Unfortunately, this man was not as honorable as they had hoped, and he used his powers to trap me and many others in his home for countless years, barely aging as he stole our futures a piece at a time to keep himself alive. When I realized that my parents had been dead for more years than I could count, I learned what my magic could do. I freed everyone that the Curator had trapped, and found myself in a world that was as much a fairy tale to me as mine would sound to any from this time."

She bowed her head, remembering the terrifying moment where the very air had vibrated before every painting in the mansion had fallen from the walls, releasing a torrent of people and corpses onto the floor. "I wandered through the trees, searching for signs of my home, until I happened upon a man who was fighting a pack of Beowulves." She smirked. "It wasn't much of a fight. The man hardly moved, dissipating Grimm with nothing more than a gesture. Once the beasts were gone, he introduced himself as a Huntsman and offered to take me to a place where I could live in safety. That place turned out to be Vale, so here I am." She gestured to the room around them. "Surrounded by a history that passed me by."

Looking down at the book in front of her, she leafed through the section she wanted until she found the first and last page, and spoke a few Words. "Aer Woll, Kab Mona, Sto Koba - Dze Zun Fol, Rhi Ke Lag, Aua Zuur Mona Pat Zeg." After setting a bottle of ink out, she watched as her latest attempt at an automatic copying script began turning the pages of the historical text, imprinting its words onto her notebook in neat block lettering using the provided ink before looking up at Percy. "What of your family?" she asked him. "I know nothing of either the Alcmaeonidae Dynasty nor the Ozymandias lineage. I have no doubt that there are many stories you could tell of your ancestors and their history. I should very much like to hear some."

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles listened on intently, always eager to learn more of history, but as Saoirse continued to speak, he'd begin to tilt his head in confusion, his eyes squinting as if trying to solve a puzzle.

Magic, sorcery, and a woman out of her own time, it baffled Pericles. Especially with her odd incantation upon the ink bottle before her.

When Saoirse asked her question and finished speaking, Pericles sat there, quietly ruminating over what she said. Eventually, Pericles would try to respond, however the first few times he failed to find the words.

Standing up abruptly, Pericles began to pace back and forth, his left hand constantly making motions as he muttered to himself, occasionally stopping and looking back over to Saorise.

A few words would occasionally be repeated as Pericles muttered: Thaddeus, calamity, and famine.

Pericles' pacing finally slowed to a crawl as he turned to look at her, curious to see if he could solve this conundrum before him, "Could indulge me, for an idle curiosity, and describe what the moon looks like when it reaches its peak on a cloudless night?"

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Percy began pacing, and Sei looked on, concern turning to confusion as he was clearly lost in thought. His contemplation was finally broken by a question that had seemingly no connection to her tale at all. "Would you indulge me an idle curiosity and describe what the moon looks like when it reaches its peak on a cloudless night?"

What did the moon look like? Did it not still appear differently on different nights in this time? Had the people of modern society perhaps stopped it from spinning as it went about its journey across the sky? Such a feat would surely have been discussed during her history class by now, would it not?

"The moon... spins, does it not?" she asked slowly. "It is round on one side and in pieces on the other, as though someone threw a spear through it. According to the legends I was told as a child, that is exactly what happened to it - it was broken by Lugh's spear during his battle against his father." She shrugged. "I was never one to put much faith in the tales of yore, but I do not know of anyone who has ever been high enough in the sky to have seen any signs of what really happened to the moon, so in my estimation it is at least as plausible an explanation as any other. The days of Lugh were many generations before I was born, so no one who knew the truth of those stories was left by my time. Certainly no one is left to tell us the truth of them now."

The question was clearly not some idle curiosity on his part, but Saoirse doubted there was any malice in it. She turned back to watch her rudimentary copying spell continue its work word by word as she waited for his response.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

"Yes, the moon is still cradled in a bath of stars and spins unyieldingly, as it did in your time as well." Pericles answered, running his right hand through his mane in thought.

"The man," Pericles suddenly said, breaking from his reverie, "the one who brought you to Vale, did you perhaps gleam his name? Or more simply, his features, were they sculpted like mine with a Mistralian's frame, shadowed by black hair?"

Pericles hesitated a moment after his question, slowly walking back over to the table and sitting, "My cousin, he has told me stories of matters like these, but I always thought them fanciful tales of a relative to quench the curiosity of youth, but perhaps..."

"Thaddeus, is his name, he told me that he works on behalf of the Council in matters such as these, when fragments of old are something more than tapestries for simple archeologists like myself to consider, and instead fractured remains of a greater whole that came before. I always thought he merely meant of political skeletons, but here you now sit, living and breathing history from before history was ancient." Pericles explained as he opened his satchel bag and sifted through it for a few moments before retrieving a business card.

"My cousin told me to be cautious of those in possession of the past that ought remain buried, only granting them this so that he may hopefully aid them should they be willing. In this matter though, I suppose you are in possession of yourself, but perhaps he could still help you, that is if you have not already met him yet." Pericles said, as he proffered the business card to her.

The business card was bone white, with Silian Rail font, it read:

Thaddeus Lloigor Shub-Alcmaeonidae

Anthropology Consultant

1890 Providence Road, Vale City

"Regardless of that, truly, it is fascinating to speak with you. I hope I am not too domineering in my questioning, as I'm sure others have problem had curiosities as well, but does your knowledge enlighten you at all of a foundling nation, in what you call the Unbroken Sands, that went by the name of Kemet, led by a man known to other lands as Ozymandias?" Pericles inquired.

[Saoirse Luíseach]

"The man, the one who brought you to Vale, did you perhaps glean his name? His features, were they sculpted like mine with a Mistralian's frame, shadowed by black hair?"

Percy quickly explained his query, and Sei took the time to take in his words, accepting the small piece of cardstock to find a name and address printed on it in plain text.

Thaddeus Lloigor Shub-Alcmaeonidae
Anthropology Consultant
1890 Providence Road, Vale City

"The Curator was a man of eccentric and eclectic tastes," she explained as she placed the card between the cover and first page of her grimoire. "His hair was always colored and styled differently throughout the years, no doubt so he might pass as his own descendants so as to arouse less suspicion. He was possessed of high cheekbones, a strong but pointed jaw, and eyes of such rich a brown hue they were almost black. He was tall, but slender - he spent all his time reading, painting, or gardening. He was rather taken with the art of finding medicinal uses in otherwise harmful plants, but he wasn't much good at it, unlike his paintings, which were exquisite even with their subjects removed. He never gave his name, only his title of Curator." Her memories of time spent in the manor weren't all bad ones, strictly speaking - it was just the color of those days was muted when they were placed in the proper context: that of the confinement and exploitation of not only herself but thousands of other innocent souls.

"Fear not, Percy: you are not the first to ask me of what I remember, nor will you be the last. None have asked more than cursory questions which were easy enough to avoid answering directly save yourself, the Professor who recommended me for enrollment, and the Professor who administered the evaluation of my mental faculties to determine if I possessed the proper temperament for a Hunter. I am glad to speak of my home, for when I am gone it will be remembered only in the pages of the annals that I myself compile. I confess myself mostly ignorant of the larger political landscape beyond the greenlands of Sanus. The wandering tribe from which my mother came were known as the Children of Fire due to their leaders having Semblances related to fire, and their closest neighbors were known as the Children of Glass for similar reasons. The name Kemet is foreign to me, though it may well have been known to my family. I am fortunate to be in possession of my father's daily journal, and Kemet may be made mention of there if it was indeed as ancient as I."

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles listened onto her description of the Curator, seemingly in recognition for most of it until the very end, "Hmm... For but a brief moment, I fell under the belief that my cousin had bestowed himself a brand new epithet, with this curator persona, however my Cousin can proudly and truly claim to be more than adequate when it comes to the maintenance of herbological endeavors."

"I must shamefully admit, that the archeologist scraping at the soil in the back of my head is chomping at the bit, so to speak, to request access to that journal, but make no mistake that I'd never make such a unseemly inquiry. Instead, I can only humbly request that should Kemet find itself in the margins of such a valuable missive, that I could broach queries about the specific contents from you." Pericles says, letting his eyes fall only for a moment before casting back up to Sei.

Thinking for a moment, Pericles' eyes suddenly sparked with intrigue and ideas. Grabbing hand crafted wooden box with a beach engraved on the side of it from his bag, Pericles placed it on the table and flipped it open, revealing incredibly fine sand, all a light amber color, "Is there anything from your home, and I mean that in the chronological sense, that you wish you could see one more time, a place, perhaps a structure?"

[Saoirse Luíseach]

There was no way that Sei would allow anyone else to see the journal, and while Percy would no doubt love to peruse its contents, he thankfully made a point of refraining from requesting to do so.

Something that she wished to see again? "There are several such places. Thankfully, it has not been so long for me that I no longer remember them. Am I to assume that this box of sand may somehow allow you to construct images of some kind?" If that were the case, how was the action performed? Was it similar to the newly-invented Hardlight Dust, or was it perhaps related to the man's Semblance?

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles nodded proudly, "Indeed it shall, but I cannot yet begin until you have begun yourself. So, whenever you find yourself ready, tell me of a place that you miss most and desire to forget the least."

As he says this, Pericles quickly checks over the box of sand, making sure there are no lumps and quickly sifting his fingers through the grains, revealing an oddly bright sparkle to the sediment before him.

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Sei nodded and sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and thought of home.

"There was an estate that sprawled from the edge of the city to the lake," she began, and slowly described the grounds of her family's estate. The lawns, their gentle green rolling out from the hedge maze in a verdant wave. The stables and carriage house, with their wrought iron ornamentation. The guest house, with its round windows that overlooked the lake. The main house, with its spires and gables, long windows and angled roofs. The statues and topiary that lined the walking paths that circled everything else in loops and whorls. Every little detail she could remember, sometimes describing every facet fully before moving on, sometimes skimming over places before going back and adding details as she got to part of the estate that looked similar.

A soft smile found its way onto her face as she spoke, twitching upward as she recalled memories of time spent in certain places. By the time she was done speaking, her shoulders had completely relaxed into a posture that would have had her protocol instructor in hysterics. The thought of the stern woman shrieking at her about the importance of sitting straight only made her smile widen, until her entire face was lit up in a radiant smile as she recalled her family home, eyes still closed as the picture in her mind's eye solidified with each passing moment.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles' Aura would flare and whirl around his face, eventually forming an Eye of Horus over his left eye as the sand in the box gently stirred. As Saoirse would describe the estate, the pillars of sand would rise upwards, forming columns and merging into walls, then buildings, with a gated carriage house and stables, followed by the manor itself. With every detail that Saorise would tell him, Pericles would add the detail, checking her facial expressions as he did so to make sure that he was close to the original.

On this would go, with Pericles continuing to add more and more detail as Saoirse spoke, his control on the sand occasionally failing and requiring him to restart on the small section he was working on. When the estate was reaching its completion, Pericles spoke once more, "Well then, I have just two more questions for you: What is your favorite color and glossy or glistening?"

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Saoirse's eyes opened slowly, then widened in shock as an incredibly detailed rendering of her estate lay on the table between herself and Percy. When he'd said that he could recreate the image, she hadn't imagined that he would be able to do so with such fidelity over the entire estate. She'd expected perhaps an artistic rendering or a finely-detailed image of one of the sections she'd described, but the entire thing was beyond her expectations. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as she gazed down at her old home, which had long since been lost to time.

"Percy, this is..." she trailed off, then tried again. "This is remarkable."

Then he asked for her favorite color, and she had to consider this for a moment. "I don't know that I have any one particular favorite color. Certain colors look better in certain environments and in certain materials. If I had to choose just one, I suppose it would be the bluish luster one finds in clear ice when it gets sufficiently thick to refract sunlight. And glistening over glossy - I have never been one to appreciate things that are lacquered." This last part wasn't entirely accurate, but explaining that she disliked varnished veneers due to the proclivity of artists to use them to cover their paintings was not something she wanted to do today.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

"Thank you, for your praise, though it is not yet deserving, for my act in not quite finished." Pericles remarked as he grabbed a second bag, this one filled with many vials of sparkling or muted powders and silts.

Hearing her mention the color she appreciated most, Pericles actually slowed his movements, smiling slightly before tamping down on it, embarrassed by how it affected him. Speaking up, Pericles found the word for her, "Glacial blue. The type of blue that is often seen in overturned glaciers when the sun pierces through the many layers. It's also known as Athenian blue, for the color was used as the mark of the court during my ancestor's reign as the emperor of Mistral."

As he spoke, Pericles quickly sorted through the vials, grabbing one of a dulled black coloring and quickly pouring it into the sand before manifesting his Semblance once more to pull and interweave the powder throughout the model, only giving a brief comment of, "Rusted Copper." as he did so.

"Now," Pericles said, returning to his story, "my ancestor didn't pick the color for the sake of glaciers, though admittedly he did help settle the more Northern regions of Mistral with Mantle's help such as Atlas. No, he picked the color out of the same vanity that runs through my veins now."

Pericles set down the vial and dismissed his Semblance temporarily to gently place his index finger on the edge of his eye and pull the skin away to make it easier to see the glacial blue iris, "He not only used the blue of his eyes, but later on he even decreed for the color to be named after him. Admittedly, it didn't really catch on, but in some instances you can still find it, just as how I am named after him."

Pericles turned around the bottle he had poured in revealing the label.

Copper (II) Oxide

Glacial Blue/Athenian Blue/Periclesian Blue

"Moving on, however," Pericles spoke, turning the bottle back around and replacing it in the container, "you have selected glistening, and I could not be more elated you have done so."

Pericles grabbed a different bottle this time, one that any Hunter would recognize as filled with Lightning Dust. Gently grabbing a small portion of the substance on a metal spatula, Pericles deposited it into the box.

With the same process as before, Pericles interwove the Lightning Dust between the other grains of sand and copper oxide and when he was finished, he had one last piece to say, "You may wish to cover your eyes for this part."

Pericles would give Saoirse adequate time to do so, before with a gentle application of Aura from his index onto the sand, the process would complete. A bright flash and a quiet sound of electrical buzzing would be heard before the final product was revealed.

The mock-up of the estate had been transformed, from the simple sand into a sparkling structure of glacial blue, every detail catching the light with the tiny grains that the glass beaded into across the surface of the model.

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Vanity? Perhaps - naming a color after oneself was the height of foolish pride, after all.

"If vanity is the pain of pride, what is the pain of sloth?" Sei asked softly as Percy mixed a powder into the box.

She closed her eyes when warned to, and when the flash of light dissipated she opened them again to find that her new friend's ability was even more wondrous still than he had shown so far. She found herself struck speechless at the exquisite craftsmanship of the final product - the way the light caught it as it streamed in through the windows, the way every detail was reproduced exactly as she'd described, the way she could see the details of the inside of the manor through the transparent sheen of the exterior.

Scarcely believing that the structure in front of her was real, she hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the roof above her childhood bedroom. It was even textured slightly, mimicking the feel of roofing. She brushed her fingers down the rest of the structure, finding the not-bricks to be slightly rough, the windows to be smooth, and the lawn to be somehow both soft and sharp, the way dry grass felt on bare feet in the height of summer.

"This is incredible," she whispered.

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

"Regret." Pericles answered firmly, deep contemplation in his eyes as he elaborated, "Regret is the pain of sloth, for missing out on all that once was and knowing that you will eventually not even pay audience to what could and will be."

Taking a few steadying breaths, Pericles would flare his Semblance once more to clear away the few remaining grains of sand and material that did not melt into the glass. Resting a cautious, but unfettered finger onto the glass, Pericles confirmed that while it was still warm to the touch, the heat had already transferred away enough for it to be safe to handle by hand.

With prying, but reverent fingers, Pericles would extract the estate and the base of glass it now sat upon from the box, exposing the silvery metal bottom of the box that would be radiating the absorbed heat.

Setting the finished piece before Saoirse, Pericles responded to her praise, "I am pleased, that I have brought you joy in such a manner as to elicit genuine praise. I cannot undue what has been done, nor turn back the passage of time, but I am able to allow myself to hope. So for that, I hope, that this piece can at least bring you some comfort in this new world you find yourself in."

[Saoirse Luíseach]

Regret, indeed. It was a bitter pain to be forced upon you by other people's choices.

This gift, created so casually in a school library, was more beautiful to Sei than any work in any gallery on Remnant.

"There is no measure by which I can place a value on what you have given me. To be able to see my home in the waking world again is far more than I though possible. You have my thanks, Percy." This was truly remarkable, and she would treasure this model always.

Her attention was diverted when the volume she had selected earlier snapped shut with a soft 'thwump', her copy script having completed its work. Sei made a mental note to tweak it a bit later - this iteration made an excellent base, but there was much that could be built upon: having a fully automated dictation script was still a pipe dream (an unnecessary one, no less, what with the existence of scrolls as a technological advancement), but it would be one truly phenomenal party trick if she got it working.

She collected the ink bottle and stack of papers, depositing them into her satchel. "I will need to carry this remarkable piece of art to my quarters for safekeeping," she said, and stood. "I believe I will take supper early this evening. I wonder if you would care to join me? I am told by three of my classmates - separately, mind you - that the pulled pork sandwiches that will be served in the dining hall today are not to be missed."

[Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias]

Pericles' would smile comfortably at Saoirse's words, only briefly tensing at the noise from the script finishing up.

"Mojo pork sandwiches," Pericles adds with delighted detail, "and your classmates are correct in their assessment. I partake of the opportunity every chance that they are offered."

"More so, I'd be honored to share such a meal with yourself, one who is wizened to the musings of the mind and turnings of the tongue, and for that you have my grateful agreement. When shall we meet in the hall, my friend?" Standing up, Pericles would begin to pack his things as he awaited Sei's answer.