2022-06-20 - A World With Kittens And Cookies

(TXT to Ravn) Una : Sooooo. How likely do you think we are to get divine (not really divine?) retribution for stealing kittens from the past? [Cute picture of kittens included, naturally.]

(TXT to Una) Ravn : Wait, what? You brought kittens back from the Veil? How many teeth do they have?

(TXT to Ravn) Una : From, uh, Pompeii, actually. Before the Door closed. They just showed up. They have normal amounts of teeth, I promise!

(TXT to Una) Ravn : Bloody hell. That's a good question. It's not like you brought back somebody who'd actually have to acclimatise -- I figure life isn't much different for a cat then and now. Still, this could turn out -- uh, interesting. Are they perfectly normal. healthy kittens? They look normal.

(TXT to Ravn) Una : Right? I mean, Della's pretty experienced with cats, more than I am, and she seems to think they're fine. Flea-ridden (not any more!) but otherwise decently healthy. Jules is a bit uncomfortable, but I'm not entirely sure that's down to the kittens themselves.

(TXT to Ravn) Una : But... I don't know. I don't know how these doors work, you know?

(TXT to Una) Ravn : I don't think anyone does. The Veil doesn't usually just give you a living room door to Pompeii. Has it closed yet? I'm kind of worried that it will stay open when the damn thing does blow.

(TXT to Ravn) Una : Yeah, it closed. It was... kind of horrific. But it closed before the end, if that makes sense. I watched. It was awful.

(TXT to Una) Ravn : Oh, Lord. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have. History is pretty bloody awful at times. A lot of the times. Some things should be read about, not experienced. Particularly not with a side order of guilt that we couldn't avert it or save anyone. Have you named the kittens yet? Can I meet them?

(TXT to Ravn) Una : I couldn't not, not with all the survivors guilt. Not going to lie, that one fucked me up a bit, and maybe that's half the point with the kittens. At least someone got out alive. Come over? They're Athena and Hephaestus, and I'm not entirely sure why we went for Greek names for Roman kittens, and Jules hates Hephaestus in particular, and... they're just adorable.

(TXT to Una) Ravn : Change it to Minerva and Vulcan, but make sure to not give them too much alone time? Roman/Grecian mythology is fucked up; Hephaestus tried to rape Athena once. Which has nothing to do with your kittens. Do you need anything for them? How old are they?

(TXT to Ravn) Una : ... there's a cheerful thought. I'll keep an eye on my ginger boy, don't think I won't. Della didn't like the nickname possibilities: Minnie and Vulcie. We think they're at least a few of months old, but probably strays; they're small. But doing okay. Much shopping has been done already, so we're good.

(TXT to Una) Ravn : I'll bring a bag of things I bought for Kitty Pryde that's rejected or beneath her dignity. Maybe the kittens will like some of it.

(TXT to Ravn) Una : Oh amazing. I suspect they may be less, uh, picky, than she is.

The 5 Oak Kittens are destined to be largely indoor cats, but the front porch is currently acceptable: Una's taken up her usual spot at the table, with a basket of kittens the newest addition to her table's usual offerings, sitting next to the pot of coffee, the mugs, the plate of cookies. Dressed down in loose cotton pants and her 'kitchen cleric' t-shirt, the redheaded baker tucks one foot beneath her butt and leans forward to get another look at them, snapping a quick photo with her phone-- inevitably only the most recent of many. Athena's more curious and outgoing than her ginger brother, nosing up and out of the basket to get a better look at the world, but it is that latter kitten that the redhead focuses her attention on; gingers got to stick together.

The rumble of an engine announces the arrival of Ravn Abildgaard before the sight; Lola Bianca is not particularly noisy as motorcycles go, and the vintage bike certainly can't compete with certain modern machines that are meant to tell everyone their macho owner is here, but silent she is not.

The Dane appears his usual self; the only colour on his shirt-blazer-jeans ensemble is the rainbow on his t-shirt. No snarky text, either, just the rainbow. It's one of the multi-colour ones that include the colours for trans and ace as well. He walks up, carrying his usual black leather shoulder bag -- the one that secretly houses an extra-dimensional Tetris game's worth of stuff that shouldn't possibly fit into one bag.

He pauses on the porch step and looks at the two. "Going to guess, about two months. Old enough to be curious, not old enough to be on their own. Ave, little Romans."

Una glances up at the sound of the engine, but only for a moment: it's enough for her that she knows the bike is there, its passenger incoming. Besides: kittens.

His approach, of course, draws more attention-- from the kittens, at least. Hey: a new big person. Athena's well and truly up for this, letting out an imperious mew that will have to serve as commentary from both of them, because her brother? Yeah, he's going to hide behind Una's fingertips now, such as 'hiding' is. "That sounds about right," Una agrees, glancing up from the basket to greet Ravn with a tired smile.

"Nice shirt. Hey."

"It's Pride month. Figure I should try to look like an ally at least." Ravn settles on one of the porch chairs and holds his gloved finger out for Athena to sniff. He's cat person enough to know that cats don't particularly care for strangers grabbing them and touching them without invitation; a nose boop greet is how cats greet each other.

"I hear you on the survivors' guilt," he says, more quietly, while the grey kitten inspects his gloves (and probably wonders what kind of strange human wears a second skin). "It's easier to cope with when you know it's all a show that's been put on to provoke a reaction in you. Nero being a little bitchy neckbeard is more funny when you know it's not real, and nothing we do makes any difference. Pompeii felt very real."

Athena has clearly survived her ordeal well enough that her natural curiosity is undaunted, sniffing with interested. Gloved fingers are New and Interesting and possibly a little Weird, but... maybe that's okay. "Yeah," agrees Una, acknowledging the shirt. "It's a nice gesture."

She's slower to respond to the rest, reaching for her own coffee mug with one hand, so that her other can stay close to little Hephaestus the timid. "... it felt very, very real," she agrees, having sucked in and released a very long breath. "Sabina was bad enough; knowing what was going to happen to her. But that whole town? All those people, just going about their lives having absolutely no idea what was going to happen, and we couldn't save them. And I keep looking back and remembering how excited I was to be there, and... what was I thinking? Fuck."

"You were thinking in terms of a museum exhibit. A really great re-creation." Ravn nods and glances at Una with a serious expression. "Because our minds can't really cope with the idea that it's real. And for all we know it wasn't real. For all we know the Veil is pulling these near-history door things on us because we got too used to knowing that we can't really change anything anyway, so just get through it and out."

He looks down at Athena. "They always try to hit you where it hurts." A tone of long familiarity, that one. "I'm sorry they managed this time. But even if that was actual Pompeii, nothing we could have done would have convinced anyone to get out of town in time. People don't even want to evacuate nowadays during hurricane warnings."

"Yeah," agrees Una, with feeling: that's exactly how she was approaching it. "I think that's the lure of these doors, that sense that... here, play in this place for a little while. Really experience that thing that is of interest to you. It's not like Dreams, where you just expect everything to be--"

She breaks off, shrugging, because the words are hard, and she's still struggling with all of this, despite the warmth of the day. "I mean, yeah, that's true. There is absolutely nothing we could have done. Not with months of pre-planning. It's not how people work. And that still doesn't make it much easier. I'd... I think I've had my fill of doors, now. I'm hoping that if I uncover any more, I can manage not to step through them and just be done with it. I'll stay home."

"Yeah." Ravn nods again, and watches little Athena try to take a tentative bite off his fingertip. It doesn't quite work as intended; the kidskin is sleek and the kitten's teeth are by no means strong enough to pierce it. "I stepped into the Ice Age somehow. Ariadne made a new friend there. Giant bird, I'm sure she'll love to tell you all about it. I just met my ex."

"Giant bird?" Una begins, but that's almost immediately overshadowed by, "Your ex. The ghost? The one--?"

She fastens brown eyes firmly on Ravn, brows lifted, mouth pinched.

"Yeah. That one." Ravn keeps his gaze on the kitten's face. Somebody here is having a great time at least, murdering his glove. "Or what's left of her, anyway."

Una drops her gaze again, as if she finds it uncomfortable to study Ravn whilst he's focusing elsewhere. "How... did that go?"

It's a very cautious question, coloured in uncertainty.

At least the kittens are enjoying themselves.

"There were -- natives. Not sure what term to use for them. They never actually existed, I know that much." Ravn looks up. "Ice Age Mesoamerica did not have Inca knights on llamas. But there they were, and they were circling us in that not so great way. Then she showed up. Chased them off -- which was good, of course. Screaming at them that the only one who gets to kill me, is her. Ariadne's new bird friend then chased her off. There's nothing left of her -- just rage and anger. Nothing else in there at all."

Another time, Una might laugh-- or at least smile-- for the thought of Inca knights on llamas. This time, she's too busy frowning.

"That--" she begins, and stops. "Fuck."

Try again, Una. "I imagine that was... startling? Uncomfortable? Weird? Do you think she actively intends to kill you? Do you need to be... concerned? I guess it's okay if Ariadne's bird can chase her off."

"I think that if she could kill me, she would have. But I'm her anchor -- she's haunting me. Sometimes, apparently, she can cross over. I suppose the trigger might be, if somebody else is trying to take away what's hers. It used to be women she'd attack -- when she was alive, that is. Now? It seems to be the right to murder me herself." Ravn scritches Athena's little chin. "That's what I mean, though. The Veil finds a way to get you where it hurts. If we stop worrying that what we do in Dreams actually matters? Time to send us into actual history and render us unable to save anyone."

"Well, that's... bleak," concludes Una, though there's no particular question or disbelief in it: it makes a large amount of uncomfortable and unpleasant sense. "But not surprising, really, is it? That's what it's always been: new ways to make us all miserable. Maybe that's all the more reason to love on these kittens, right? Because one good thing came out of it, and maybe that'll come back to haunt us eventually, and maybe not, but... I'm still taking it."

Beat. "At least you don't have to worry about your ex hurting anyone else, I guess? Unless they're trying to hurt you."

"Silver linings. Have to keep finding them, or this place will break you." Ravn nods his agreement and then raises Athena up; the kitten is too busy chewing on his glove to care much. "They're adorable. And you guys did want cats. So now you have genuine Roman back alley strays. Who are different from local back alley strays only in our heads, because they certainly don't care."

He smiles a little at the kitten's antics. "She's the brave one, is she? There's always one that's out in front, and the others are following."

Una watches Ravn with the kitten and smiles, her expression softening: it's pretty adorable, and that is one heck of a silver lining. "We wanted cats," she agrees. "Ideally two of them, ideally siblings who would get along. And what happens?" They get delivered straight to the door... literally.

"She's definitely the leader," she adds, reaching in to pick up Athena's much more timid brother. "It was like that when they showed up, too. I didn't see most of it, but Della convinced her to come in, and he followed only after she was certain. Athena's definitely Della's favourite, but-- it's okay to be more shy, too, isn't it, 'phaestus?"

"Of course it is. There's something to be said for not rushing into danger at the drop of a hat. Or the wiggle of a finger." Ravn points at the ginger kitten -- inviting it to sniff his hand too, and taking no offence when it fails to accept the invitation. Maybe Una's lap is comfy enough, thanks. Maybe he's not ready to trust such strange things.

The Dane puts down his shoulder bag, moving around Athena the curious on his hand. "I could do with a bit of shy myself. Everything has been happening very fast lately. Most of it has been pretty awful. People keep falling through doors into strange places, and come back either not talking about it, or telling terrible stories. It's hard to keep smiling sometimes. Everything has been -- weird, since the Masquerade on the Casino Island."

Trust can come hard for gingers, sometimes. This one has, at least, decided to trust the curvy ginger he's curling up on.

"It's-- I hadn't put that together, but you're right." Una frowns. "Things felt... easier, before that. Most of us were excited. We were Dreaming, but mostly it was nothing too difficult to cope with. And now..." She shakes her head, exhaling a long, lengthy breath that briefly disrupts the kitten in her lap; she soothes him down with two fingers. "I'd like these doors to snap closed again now. And I worry that... that this is just the new way of things. Fewer Dreams; More Doors. And then I just worry that the doors are going to close and trap people. I'm working really hard not to be... debilitated, I suppose, by the worry."

"Yes. That, and broken trust." Ravn nods slightly. "It used to be, we can at least trust each other. And then Brennon tried to poison an entire casino. Haven't heard of anything coming of it, either. It's not that I want her punished but -- a part of me is deeply uncomfortable with how ready we are to accept that's just how it is, and if somebody wants to do something like that, cool beans. It makes me want to just watch my own back, and worry less about everybody else's."

Una's shoulders twitch uncomfortably, though her nod is true enough, and her pinched expression deeply expressive. "Ye-es," she allows. "And that, in turn, makes me deeply uncomfortable, because I liked it, knowing we could trust everyone. I know Ava's apologised to Jules, and that's something, but-- it's uncomfortable. It sucks."

"Good on Brennon and Black. No difference for the rest of us." Ravn nods. "All of us being on the same team, having each other's backs. It's how it works. It's how we survive, how we cope. If we don't have that, then it's every man for himself, and the Devil takes the hindmost."

"If that's the way it ends up... a lot of people are going to get hurt," says Una. "And that's the last thing I want."

She focuses her attention upon the kitten in her lap, though his hesitant explorations have-- at least temporarily-- lost some of their charm.

"It fucking sucks."

"Yes. It does." Ravn falls quiet a while, and then rummages around his bag. The impossible Tetris game provides, somehow, several bags of dry food, a number of jingly balls, and a feather toy. All of which were rejected because Kitty Pryde does not do dry food, and she's too dignified for jingly balls and feather toys, thank you very much. "I don't know how to repair it. It used to be, reach out, remind people that they're not alone. And then we'd be -- well, human, with all our flaws and idiosyncrasies, but on the same side. We'd expect the Veil creatures to try to do one on us. Not each other."

There's the faintest hint of mirth in Una's expression as the Bag of Holding reveals its bounty; that'll never get old, likely, though her mood is far too solemn for it to have the impact it could. She sets down her coffee, reaching for the feather toy, which gets wiggled in Hephaestus' direction. He blinks at it, a little sleepily, and gives a very hesitant bat at it with one paw. Hmm.

"I hope this is not... that they've found a whole new way to torture us, by turning us against each other. Influencing us to the point of--" Una frowns again (though, true, it's not as if she's entirely stopped frowning).

"I can't let them win. I won't. Team Humanity has to stand together, or what have we got? I don't know how to fix it, but damn it, I'm going to try."

"It's what the Veil has always done when things got a little too good for humanity." Ravn watches little Hephaestus' tentative exploration. Threat? Toy? Point of feathery object? "When I first came into town I was very optimistic. I thought, as long as we're all in this together, it can only get so bad. Ignacio de Santos -- the bloke who's technically in charge of HOPE though no one's seen the man for a year -- snapped me out of it real quick. Reminded me that there are and always will be, double agents. People who serve the dolorphages, whether they know it or not. Sleeper agents, knowing and unknowing. I thought that if we could just -- know each other, rely on one another, then we'd be able to deal. And now I'm wondering whether that's still on the table, or he was right, that we're all ultimately on our own here."

He looks back at Athena who watches the toy with considerably more interest from his arm. "I want to repair it. If we can't -- then there's no point in staying here and fighting back. Then we're not learning about it, we're just cattle to the slaughterhouse. It has to be possible to stand together."

"No," says Una, abruptly sharp. Oh, she's reaching across towards Ravn, now, to wiggle the feather in her direction, but there's no doubting the fiery determination in her voice. "That is not an option. We were standing together, and we will do so again. I am not giving up, not after... that's not an option, okay? We're going to make this right."

"Maybe it's time to try another approach than mine." Ravn watches the cat toy -- maybe he's cat enough himself that he's considering batting at it too, maybe his thoughts are just elsewhere and it's a place to park his gaze. "Mine hasn't done the job. I thought that if I could just talk to people, get them talking to one another, then it'd work out. But it hasn't, has it? It's not even as simple as just smashing the damned greenhouse like Black wanted to. It's the Veil showing us that all it takes to get to us all is one person being lured into making a bad call of judgement. I make enough of those as it is. Maybe it's time somebody else takes a shot at uniting people."

Una turns her gaze back on to Ravn, frowning deeply. "I don't think that's fair," she says. "One failure does not mean the whole system fell apart. I'd say that, on the whole, your approach has worked. Maybe it's not enough on its own, but it's been a damn good step forward. So, okay, we just have to figure what else we can do. Collectively. Because we're all in this, and we all need to be doing our bit to make a difference. Most of us are still here, still helping each other. That's a damn sight more than nothing."

"Maybe it is. Some of us are still talking, and that does account for something." Ravn nods slightly again -- and dips into his Tetris bag once more because looky looky, turns out there was a tiny plush mouse, too. It has beady black eyes and a little tail on a spring. "I guess maybe we just have to grow used to this. That it's a Sisyphus job. We build it up, the Veil tears it down, and we start over. An endurance contest."

Una goes back to wiggling the feather at Hephaestus, who is a little more confident at batting at it, this time. "Yeah," she agrees. "Because nothing is ever simple. This is just one new way to torture us, like the doors, like the Dreams, like every other damn thing that happens. But the point is that most of us are still standing, still fighting. We still have each others' backs, and we're not going to stop that."

That's sheer, mulish determination in her expression, now.

"This is my community. I'm not giving up on it."

"Well, if you're not, then I'd be a dick to say I am." Ravn manages a small smile. "I do want to repair it and get back to where we were. To the place where somebody could fuck up and then we got over it and moved on, because we knew that whatever happened, it was an honest mistake. I feel like -- I've lost that faith. Because whatever prompted Brennon to do what she did, is still out there, and it's still going to influence people's bad decisions. Every time we make rash decisions we endanger everyone else. And I'm not one to polish my own halo here -- I've made enough stupid, rash decisions of my own. I've just been lucky that they haven't had a whole lot of impact on anyone not myself."

"I think..." Una hesitates. "That makes working with each other even more important. Telling people what we're doing, and pulling people back, if things may be going too far. I knew about the plants Ava was growing; I didn't stop her. I didn't know what they were going to do, but... I didn't stop her. I think we stopped being as cautious as we should have been. That's why we're getting rid of the faerie garden, too, right? We're learning from our mistakes."

She draws in a breath. "Because we're all going to fuck up. It's inevitable. We're none of us perfect. I'd rather fuck up knowing the people around me will help me pick up the pieces, afterwards, if that's what's needed."

"That's how it's supposed to be. That we're each other's support system. That when we screw up, we're there to pick each other off the floor." Ravn looks down as a curious little grey figure makes its way along his arm to inspect the squeaky mouse with the spring tail. Betcha they didn't have those in Pompeii.

He twitches the mouse slightly, hoping to lure either kitten's interest. "I'm not mad at her. She was duped by the Veil, and the Veil is really damned good at making bad ideas seem great. I've made the same mistake. Gone into the mind scape against my better judgement, because I thought I could trust the other person to have my best interest in mind. It took me a long time to recover from that -- being given a lot of power with no explanation or instruction is a very scary feeling. I just want to see some kind of acknowledgement that a mistake was made. Even if it's just the actual greenhouse being emptied out. Something that isn't simply, sucks to be you guys, you ate the fruit, haha."

Hephaestus hesitates, staring across at the mouse, though he's far too cautious to explore for himself.

"Mind scape?" Una wants to know, this particular term having not yet made it to her ears. That's a side note, though, because it's the rest that has her drawing in a careful breath and then nodding, slowly. "Yes," she says. "I want that too. It's not... sackcloth and ashes, repent and apologise for all eternity. Penance is not required. Just acknowledgement. And then, taking steps to try and make sure it doesn't happen again-- this, or something like this. That's all."

Ravn nods again; man's a veritable bobblehead today. "That. Acknowledgement. Resolution. Certainty that there's not a basket of Veil fruit sitting in a greenhouse, waiting for the next opportunity to be unleashed. It's taking a lot of effort on my end to not simply smash that greenhouse to bits, with everything inside. I could do it from right here. And I am constantly reminding myself that if I were to do that, I would be just like them. Taking away somebody else's free agency to make their own decisions. It's not free will if you only allow it when they make the choices you approve of."

He takes a breath and nudges the mouse closer to Hephaestus' curious little face. "The mind scape is a telepathic connection. A kind of visualised reality -- a bit like a Dream except it's made by the person creating it. Everything in it is symbolic. When somebody bit my collar off in it, it unleashed the powers I did not know I had. This is a good thing. But it also meant five months of being terrified of my own power because I didn't know what I could do, or how. And having to figure it out pretty much from scratch. Remember the boulder that landed on those pirates? I never meant to do that."

"Right," Una agrees. "I'd like it to all be put behind us. I miss the way things used to be." There's inevitably layers to that statement: multiple levels of missing, and, indeed, meanings to 'used to be'. "We'll get there. I'm sure of it. We have to."

Hephaestus freezes, and lets out a little uncertain mew: it's a mouse. It's right there. Should he... he bats at it. Like that? Una, watching him, is nonetheless still intently listening to Ravn's explanation. "Well," she says. "That sounds terrifying. I remember the boulder. And the... with the Nightmares, too. That sounds like an exceptionally powerful tool, but..." Not, perhaps, a comfortable one. "And people can just, I don't know, create these connections? Deliberately, I suppose?"

"People with mind powers can. I cannot, for example." Ravn dangles the mouse ever so slightly, teasing the kitten while attempting to not frighten him off the game. "Rosencrantz can. To him, it's a game. A way to be intimate -- to talk past boundaries and barriers. He's very comfortable with the idea. He also forgets that the first time he pulled me in there, he almost ended our friendship because he didn't like what he saw. It's brutally honest, and most of us aren't very pretty if you start looking close enough."

Teasing? You tease Hephaestus? Apparently this is one way to provoke a reaction from the shy little boy kitten, who lunges at the mouse.

Una's got half an eye on that, and half on Ravn, and looks distinctly thoughtful for it. "No-oo," she allows. "What's that song lyric? Something about 'this is my brain' and then.. 'it's tucked away behind my eyes, where all my screwed up thoughts can hide, because god forbid I hurt somebody.' My brain's a pretty messy place, most of the time; I don't know if anyone needs to see that. I'm a mess."

She makes a face. "I'm pretty glad I don't seem to have much by way of mind powers. It just feels... intense. Personal. Dangerous."

"And sexy. Don't forget the part where people use this as a pick-up line. Or to intimidate -- once you're in there, you're completely at the mercy of this other person. Some people will make sure you don't ever forget." Ravn flicks the mouse's spring tail just enough to insinuate a nice big neener-neener to the kitten. "It can be used therapeutically. Of this I'm positive. But to me, it's been a horror show. So if somebody suggests it -- think carefully about how much you trust them before you agree. And I do wish somebody'd told me that."

He makes a little face. "We're all very dangerous, each in our ways. A mentalist can tear your mind apart. A healer, burn you alive. Me? Bury you under a rockslide. Either way, either power, we all have the potential to hurt other people. A lot. And that's why trust is so important -- that we can trust each other."

Una's brow quirks, her expression bland. Sexy. Pick-up line. Noted. "That's... fair," she concludes. "It sounds like... both sides have to be prepared for what they might see, or find out, or experience. And I suppose it really depends on what the purpose of it is."

The kitten draws back, abruptly uncomfortable by the springing tail. Nope, nope, nope, nope.

"I suppose that's true too. You forget, I think-- or I do, at least-- how much damage we can do, with just a thought. I don't think of myself as especially powerful, but-- it doesn't actually take that much, does it? Used creatively. We're weapons."

"We are. But to be fair, so's anyone. It doesn't take shine to run someone over with a car, or put a bullet in them, or wreck someone's life by cheating with their wife." Ravn rests the mouse on his palm, holding it still. A little too frisky for the tiny ginger? Right, then. Where's the little grey menace?

Eating the feather toy, that's where.

"I want to get back to where we were a few months ago. Maybe all it takes is time to heal." He hitches a shoulder. "It's a ridiculous sentiment, really. I didn't eat the fruit. I wasn't hurt by it. Black did, and was, and if she's happy with the apology she got, then on some level everything is fine. Only I can't convince myself it's that simple because it's pure coincidence that I didn't eat the damn fruit."

"Oh dear," murmurs Una, and that is clearly for young Athena, though, well: at least she seems to be enjoying herself.

She draws Hephaestus closer to her, cuddling him in a way that he seems quite comfortable with... at least for now. Slowly, "Yes. That. And... if I hadn't been so uncomfortable with Ava putting me in the same category as Vyvyan Vydal, I'd probably have met up with them both and... what's the likelihood that I would have eaten the fruit, too? And baked pastries as a result? And then I'd have to live with that guilt, and even being aware of that... it makes me want to vomit. It didn't happen, but it so easily could have. But I want to move on from this."

"I guess all we can do is huddle up and start over." Ravn boops Athena's nose. He is solidly ignored, in favour of a pink feather with glitter. Some things just don't measure up in a kitten mind. "The usual suspects. Accept that shit happened, and that it means we should be a little less ready to trust new faces -- or old but unfamiliar faces. Because every so often, somebody is going to get used, knowing or unknowing, as an agent of the Veil."

The trust issue clearly does not sit entirely well with Una, though she acknowledges it with a nod. Still, "I think mostly, it just means we need to keep a much, much closer eye on each other, and call out things that don't seem right. Even if that means calling out with force. I hate the idea of not trusting-- but trust does need to be earned, doesn't it? It's a difficult one."

She makes a face. "But we're going to be okay. We are. Everything fades with time, and it's not as if we've not learned something through all of this. We're still standing."

"Yeah. And yeah. It means calling one another out. But it also means being responsible for our actions. If I do something that fucks the community over -- the least I can do is stop doing it." Another grey-eyed glare at the greenhouse. "Did Black say anything about whether she's still growing the damned things? Because that's the part that eats at me -- not that shit happened, but that it might still be happening."

"She said they were going to be destroyed," says Una, deliberately not looking in the direction of the greenhouse. "I don't know more than that, though. I didn't want to pry."

She inhales, then exhales, as if attempting to forcibly calm herself.

"Well, it's something. And more than anyone else has been told." Ravn nods with slight approval. It is something. Of course it still remains to be seen whether it's an empty promise, or the plants actually do end up gone.

Una's own nod is minute, her mouth drawn together tightly. "I hope so," she says. "I have to hope so. I haven't been able to bring myself to check. I mean-- I'm not getting anywhere near that greenhouse, you know? That's the last thing any of us need, another outbreak of this. It's the right step, and I'm grateful that it was mentioned. I just hope that's it."

"I have no business on the lawn or in the greenhouse of Oak One if not invited by a resident." Ravn nods slightly. "Brennon's boyfriend is a police officer. I'm not going to do anything that might get me in trouble with the law if she gets mad about it. I have fought off the temptation to blow the whole damned thing away from right over there on my own lawn, though, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. Bit of storm damage, oops, your greenhouse is making its way towards Puget Sound now."

"It's a very tempting prospect," agrees Una, though her tone is neutral enough; she's not the kind of person who actively imagines doing something like that, though it doesn't follow that she actively disapproves, either. "I hope it's not necessary, though I probably won't trust it until I've seen for myself that it's all gone-- and that will take an active invitation. I trust Jules. I mean-- on the whole I do. If she's accepted that apology, then things are going to be made right, and we can all put this behind us."

She glances out over the street, at a car idling past. "I had such high hopes for summer. I want to get back to that."

"Black's pretty much not afraid of pissing people off. If she's good -- then it's not my place to stomp my foot and want a personal apology." Ravn pulls a bit on the pink feather, determined to get at least a little entertainment out of it before Athena has turned it all to glittery shreds. "Black's also the kind of person who will take a hammer to that greenhouse herself, as well as Brennon's kneecaps, if she goes back on her promise or sends more fruit into circulation. And if she does, I'll be swearing in court that she spent the day with me, and that no hammers have ever existed on either property."

It's not really funny, but Una laughs anyway, moving her wiggling kitten back into the basket. "Absolutely," she agrees. "She'll have every alibi in the world, if it comes to that. I don't think-- no, I'm pretty sure it won't come to that. Ava's not stupid. Hell, the Veil isn't either, when it comes down to it. That card's been played. I'd almost say the whole doors thing is intended to distract us. I don't know."

"It probably is meant to give us something else to worry about, yes. And it's working. I'm far more worried about the way these past-history experiences seem to be affecting us all." Ravn boops Athena's nose again. Result: Instant feather shreddage. Hope you like glitter on your jeans, Ravn. That stuff is like herpes, and it never washes out.

Somebody is not going in the basket. Somebody has a feather to murderise.

"I find it helps me some to remember that. That the Veil put us next to Sabina, and then in Pompeii, for a reason. Because we're the kind of people who will feel guilty leaving others to a horrible fate, when we know what's going to happen. They don't need to torture us if we do it ourselves."

"Della and Jules went to the future," murmurs Una. "Just by a few days. To New Zealand. I don't know the details. I'm not sure what the torture inherent in that was-- maybe that's still to be seen. Lulling people into a false sense of security, where things aren't so bad."

She leans back in her chair, reclaiming her coffee cup though its contents is, by now, getting cold. Maybe it's just enough to nurse the mug, holding it carefully in two hands. "It generally does know exactly how to get an emotional wallop at us, doesn't it? If it weren't aimed at me, if I weren't the person I am, I'd have to find it exquisitely well done. I just... real or not real, I don't want to see more impending doom. I can't bear it."

"It helps me to remember that it's deliberate," Ravn reiterates. "It's not real. Or if it is real, it's still something we cannot affect. We have no agency. There's no right choice or wrong choice, because we never get a choice. It's still horrible to watch, but while the effects are better, it might as well be cinema."

He looks down at the kitten still playing with the feather. "These little guys are real enough. And you were probably allowed to take them in order to prove that it was real, that we were really in historical Pompeii hours before the volcano erupted. But it doesn't change the fact that we never were given a choice or an opportunity. I really hope I'm done watching terrible things for a while -- whether it's disasters of history or murderous ghosts. But I have to remember and hang onto the fact that I only created one of those."

"And even then--" Una trails off, perhaps unwilling to go too far down the path of arguing Ravn's culpability (or not) in anything. Her nod's a little uncertain, but growing, slowly, more certain. She is, at least, taking all of this in.

"Right," she agrees. "Right. Our agency isn't required in any of this. The point has been made; the terror and despair has been rubbed in. Now's the time to put some perspective on it, and move on... because I, we, all of us, that's just what we have to do. Keep on going. Dote on the kittens, because whether they actually were born in Pompeii or not, they're here now. And that's a good thing. One good thing."

"Two good little things." Ravn smiles at Athena before plucking her up, feather and all, and handing her to Una to return to the basket too. Maybe she can teach her more timid brother the joys of feather mauling. "But, yes. That's what I mean. Keep the focus. Put the blame where it belongs."

Una laughs, accepting Athena and the remains of her feather, and tucking her back into the basket where, indeed, that feather is likely to lose whatever substance it has left.

"Two good things," she agrees. "Okay. I feel better for that, thank you. Things are going to be okay, yeah? Bloodied, not beaten."

Ravn dips into his Tetris bag one last time -- for a cigarette. Possibly to everyone's relief, it's the plastic one -- the toy cigarette that doesn't even contain vaping liquid. He twirls it around his fingers because nervous energy must have its outlet. "I like that. Bloodied, not beaten. Bouncing back. And keeping an eye out for one another. We can't make somebody part of that little community who doesn't want to be. I think that's what I feel the worst about -- that it's when we fail to pick somebody up in time they end up making bad decisions. But you can only open the car door -- you can't force people to get in."

"But the door will still be open, if they want to get in now. It's not closed for good, not yet." This is an analogy Una can get behind, for all that she's no driver. "All we can do is give people the option, and we can keep doing that. The last thing I want is for anyone to feel they've been left out in the cold. That's not how communities work. Not this one, anyway."

She watches Ravn's twirling cigarette for a moment, then glances back at the kittens, playing contentedly in their basket. She smiles.

Ravn nods after a moment. "Yes. You're right about that. That's where we have to be better people than what we really feel, and let bygones be bygones. Just as long as it doesn't mean we're turning a blind eye to future irresponsible behaviour. Like you said -- call people out. I'm not good at that. I will have to learn."

Una makes a face. "I'm apparently very good at telling people when I'm upset," she admits. "But not very good at doing it before I'm actually upset. And really not good at dealing with people patting me on the head when I am upset and telling me I'm worried about nothing. I think that's going to be the key thing, really: not being emotive about it. Facts. Just facts."

She shakes her head. "I think we're all going to have to learn how to do that properly. I don't think modern life really teaches us how to do it; there's so much pressure not to rock the boat, to stay in your own lane. Maybe that's okay when it comes to some things in life, but when it has the potential to impact others... we need to learn to think more cautiously."

"And maybe include others in our decision making processes." Ravn twirls the plastic cigarette. "I'm so used to making decisions for just me. Not for anyone else. No one else being impacted by my decisions. I need to learn to think in terms of us too. But yes -- I can testify, for the record, that furious Una is pretty damn intimidating. And that if there's one thing I'm really great at, it's running away from problems."

Una flushes, and looks just a little, tiny bit guilty. Champagne-bottle-Una has struck more than once, exploding on everyone after the pressure gets too much. She makes a face, then acknowledges, "Thinking collectively is probably the biggest challenge. Western culture really, really doesn't encourage it-- it's all about us as individuals, instead of society as a group. Stay in your lane, all of that. I'm trying to remind myself, constantly, to think through my emotions rather than just reacting to them. Most of the time there's an insecurity lurking there that is making something worse than it needs to be."

"It does, though, it really does teach us to think in first person only." Ravn makes a face. "And more so, the more money's involved. I constantly have to check my own privilege -- and remind myself to not assume that I'm the obvious choice, whether it's for leading something or being somebody's confidant, or anything else. Half the problems people deal with, I've never felt on my own skin -- whether it's being queer, or a woman, or a person of colour, or indigenous, or just not vanilla white."

Suddenly, he chuckles. "I bet you know those guys from online. The ones who are all, it's so hard being a cishet white man these days. I mean, it is, just not the way they mean. It really sucks getting your privilege checked. It's a hard learning process."

"I think that's the thing: most of us have never experienced a lot of what other people have. However many tick boxes you cover, there's still dozens that you can't and never can, because no one can do all of it. I suppose that's the point: that's why we need each other so much, because no one has all of that experience. But when you're a person with empathy... you want to say 'yes, I know how you feel' and offer advice. Or, well, I know I do. But it's not the same."

Una allows her mouth to twist, a little wry. "I know the type, yeah. And yeah-- it does. It's hard to own your own things. I'm still learning too. I think that's why it's hard with Jules, sometimes, because as much as I can say 'yeah, I grew up poor too' I wasn't poor and a person of colour."

Ravn hitches a shoulder lightly. "It's not just about her, though. It's about the fact that she's right. The world is not fair, and unlearning and acknowledging privilege isn't particularly fun. It's difficult to not end up feeling accused of things you had no agency in but you're still benefiting from. A lot of the time, it's about just shutting up and letting others do the talking."

Then he smiles. "We're just going to have to have faith in Black and in Brennon. If Black says Brennon is destroying the fruits, then we have to assume that it's true, and we have to let go of our grudges in turn. It may be one of us getting lured in by false promises from the Veil next time. Calling people out on bad decisions, but also not holding grudges that don't lead anywhere. Here's to getting back on our feet and keeping on walking."

Una's nod starts thoughtful and turns more determined partway through, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in acknowledgement. "Right," she agrees.

"Back on our feet. It was-- a blip. And now we move on."

Because a world with kittens and cookies? It can't be that bad.