thenashira | Verse 1: The Stone-faced Flower In Ice

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Verse 1: The Stone-faced Flower In Ice

In the month leading up to May, and now on into it, Natalia Koutolika has had her entire life upended.

Gone are the vicious tutors of home, smaller dictators following behind a larger one! Vanished, the spectre of being turned out, starving in snow. All of the familiar things from home are gone, to be reconstructed as best they can in this new place, this... Chalra City.

Everyone else flourishes. Sergey, especially, has taken to his new home like an ermine changing his coat. Her father and mother find work and joy in the immediate.

Her mother takes to making home-made knits and clothes to sell; this little cottage industry has its word spread immediately, and people come for custom orders of good, strong clothes, ones that can be mended and re-mended and carefully taken care of for a lifetime. And if the people she makes them for need advice or special fitting or have peculiar requests, she does not complain. What would be the point? They asked for custom clothes. She gives them custom clothes. What they do with others is none of her concern.

Her father captains a fishing vessel, on which her cousins, Vanya and Aleksey, turn tidy profits out of trawling with a net. Perhaps he transports other things. If he does, he does not speak of them to Natalia or Sergey, at least, not where he thinks they can hear.

And Natalia... Natalia... Struggles. While so many of the things she was told of her own country turned out to be lies, so many of the things she was told of places outside it seem true. The mercenary nature of everyone. The strange, passing styles that address nothing. The willing blindness of people around her.

And yet-- somehow-- it works. It continues working.

Her heart, were it not already frozen, would be troubled. Instead, she is visited by how nonsensical everything is in the city, and seeks to find out more about the country she has come to. Where does the food come from? How does everyone get by somehow? How did they find such a windfall of technology? Do her fellow students really have problems with basic set theory, or is that all an act?

I: Pins
There is one thing she's familiar with, here or anywhere else: getting around limits on personal expression. As such, she did take a bit of mother's ribbon, and carefully sewed it on to the strap of her approved satchel. Now, of late, she has found that pins are allowed, so long as they do not, in fact, appear on the outside of it.

As such, she has a few pins she's affixed to the inner flap.

They're almost certainly knockoffs. She can't afford to spit in the general direction of Fancy Dan's, or whatever the place is called. But she has a shop and a button maker and has seen the designs around. Why not make knockoffs?

Besides, Mother made the ones with the especially cold stare, and Aleksey had patterned the skull one off a bit of graffiti he'd seen once. She... Couldn't bring herself not to wear them, really, though it likely marked her as a bit of a poser.

II: Rime Scene Investigation (Neos)
Neos has been laying low, as ordered, and yet, something about this particular disappearance had rankled her. And so, she knelt, trying to figure out what bare concrete could tell of this vanishing.

Another minor monster? Already? This was getting troublesome, wasn't it...? She gathered herself up and extended her senses. There must be something more here...

Including, it seemed, a friend. She waves, once.

III: Library Time.
In the immediate wake of learning what she was-- who, arguably, she was-- Natalia retreated to what she had hoped would remain her sanctuary-- Everwave's library, where she had plenty of references to look up whatever she needed. She'd hoped to look into Nautis's story-- surely something that drastic, which happened mere centuries ago, would have been recorded?

Alas, it looked like she'd have to go looking for proper archives and primary sources for that, and she wasn't entirely sure where to begin, being new and therefore unfamiliar to Chalra City.

Still, she wasn't sure she trusted Nautis. Laying low was good sense, but...

She crosses her arms and twitches her lip slightly and draws up several game incentives, trying to figure out Nautis's angle if it wasn't true, or wasn't the whole truth.

But... The problem with this being her preferred hiding spot is that everyone already knows where she hides, and so now, she is having to defend against random students who saw how well she did on the mock exams at the end of April, looking for tutoring.

Among which might be you! or you might be there to rescue her. The choices are yours, and yours alone!

IV: Wildcard
Feel free to use any of the other bits I posted for flavor to jump off for a thread!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes. Myself, and Hope Carassia. No one else was sticking around in the library long enough to put together where I was going and ostensibly why, with maybe one exception, and... Forgive me for saying, Pandora, but..." Neos shrugged. "You do not much look like an Optimus Prime."

"In any case, it remains prudent to conceal our identities. I was very much the best case scenario for what may happen if someone comes to investigate us who appears to be an average human."

That's sort of a relief, that even though Natalia absolutely knows who they are outside of Supernova that she'll keep it quiet, but it's really hard for Pandora to actually contextualize it that way. "Yeah, I panicked," they admit, saving the internal monologue for later. "If you weren't someone safe, I was ready to beat you up," they say, and that's not as much of a lie as they would truly, truly like it to be.

"Not that that would've solved the secrecy problem," they admit quickly through mumbled words and put one hand up behind their head. "I just didn't know what else to do. I'm not much of a planner."

"How for this, then: Rather than directly confront an unknown investigating the arcade, keep a more distant eye on them and determine their reasons and actions for doing so first. By understanding what an investigator wants, you can more easily determine the correct course of action." She hums. "Example: Someone investigating alien activity and disappearances is likely looking for evidence of the attack on Lucky Stars by the Abyss. Having a Nova Knight show up in that case is counter-productive. Let them see a normal arcade, with no overt evidence of a struggle.

"They may continue to investigate in daylight, but the Harbingers' desire for secrecy also helps us deter..." She pauses. Hums. "No. I refuse to call us gods, demi or otherwise, nor yet witches. We have access to technology far beyond the pale, but we mustn't get full of ourselves."

They nod along while Natalia explains infosec to them, and they actually really appreciate it, but they doubt they'll actually retain most of this tomorrow which sucks that they already know how their brain will react. Stupid. Awful.

"We aren't gods," they decide to tackle instead of focusing on their traitorous and miserable thoughts. "We're people with magic powers and that doesn't make us any better or worse than anyone else. Especially when we don't know how many others there might be. I just helped Nautis sort through a bunch of data and she's still not done—who knows how much more there is? How many other people are still waiting to be woken up?"

This is a much easier conversation to have than to focus, at least outwardly, on how badly they'd screwed up.

"This still leaves me a trouble-- I want to refer to people without calling them 'civilians'. We're not a military. Nor... is 'normal' what I am looking for. And 'mortal' is what made me flinch in the first place."

"Well," they try, going with the first thing that comes to mind. "We could call them 'sleepers' if we really had to. But I wasn't really thinking about it like that, either. I don't... Nova Pandora," and they start rewriting the sentence in their head again like they're building a bridge in midair, "Is someone entirely separate from who I am outside of costume. So that means that everyone is just people, to me. If that makes sense."

"... How long can we deny who and what we are?" Nova Neos pauses. "When... When I am Nova Neos-- There are times it feels like removing a mask, as much as it feels like putting one on."

"I understand." It comes out quick, like they were ready for it as soon as they first heard the word "mask". They close their fists, shut their eyelids, and breathe out. Nothing to it but to do it, probably.

"If you knew half of what I have to deal with as Hope, you'd already know that I understand. If I could get by without ever being Hope again—" they cut themself off with a breath of laughter. "I might cry."

"... I see." Of course her suspicions are confirmed. Well. She takes up a seat on the couch. "... A story, then. When..."

She struck the sordid details. Neither Hope nor Pandora needed to understand why she stopped. Why everything felt useless. Why her heart froze. "When I left the old country, I was..."

She mentally struck 'unable to move'. That was patently not true, for all she felt like it was true, like her life as she knew it was over. "I was adrift, I think, for a good while. I was very used, at that point, to... Schedules, carefully constructed for me, by the order of the Leader, or the Leader's Men. And left to my own devices--"

She again, struck 'moped' from her thoughts. "-- I discovered I had lost much of the passion I had. All the pride I had for the old country was long gone. My family was... Moving on. I. I am stuck.

"But it was my brother who felt it most. Who wondered why his sister was not..." She waved her hand vaguely, trying to figure out a good way to put it. "Was not doing 'what she was supposed to'. Where was Danno, the fighting man? Where was my chess tutor? Where were all these people who, unbeknownst to him, were tasked with taking a piece of raw iron and beating on her, until she was steel?"

She paused. "I... Still do not know what to say to him. The reason I fell into despair so, it is... Ridiculous. Useless. I will have other friends, other family, other--"

She stops herself again. "I will know other people."

As Neos spills a not insignificant amount of guts (or perhaps this is all coming from Natalia directly), Pandora finds their way to a small counter in the hideout and sits down on it, their feet dangling a couple inches off the floor.

"That's rough," they say, for lack of anything else. Anything better. They aren't good at this part. "It's rough and it sounds familiar. Having to find your way on your own when everything you knew gets ripped out from under you." They look down between their feet at an unassuming and empty spot on the floor while they try to gather their thoughts. Determine what's safe to confess.

"You'd think being this old I'd have found some answers, but." They spread their hands. "Nothing. I don't know how to get past it. Not for myself, definitely not for anyone else. Other than transforming into... whatever a Nova Knight even is. And that can't be everything I do."

"... I don't know that my family understands." She pauses. "My brother, he is so young, of course he would not. My father... Is too often on the boats."

She looks at her own feet. How distant and awkward they feel in this moment! In every moment, really, but especially now. "but I think there must be a way. I cannot say what it is, but it surely exists. I cannot reclaim my old medal. All medals must be won anew, after all."

How do they give advice in this situation? How do they help someone who feels lost, unmoored, when they feel that same way every day themself? (But theirs, of course, isn't the same and needs to be handled like some insidious secret. Obviously.) It's irritating to not be able to say something. To have those chains around their own heart even as Nova Pandora.

"If you figure out how to win your own medal," they start, "Then I'd love to hear about it. Because I—" and they swallow. Sigh. Brace themself again. They look directly at Natalia, and part of them feels selfish for even saying what they're about to say. "If I tell you more, then I need you to promise me you'll keep it a secret from everybody. Even the other Nova Knights."

"I am hardly a fan of telling people things they do not need to know. Go on."

Leave it to Natalia to get straight to the point. They don't need to brace themself or prepare themself or delay themself any longer. They can borrow Natalia's words, though; that will make it easier.

"My... father is Janus Carassia. The energy magnate. I'm not a full Carassia; he decided he wanted to hook up with my mom and here I am now. And the—the medals that he's earned," which is a strong word for an obscenely rich man, "They hang so heavy around my own neck that they're strangling me. And Nova Pandora is the only chance I've had in 25 years to start winning any of my own."

They justify what they've just said by assuming, loudly and in their own mind, that Natalia would have figured this out all on her own eventually. The facts of it, at least. Hope's own emotions would have been as pent up as their Nova name implies if they'd been left to their own devices.

"That's why I wish I knew what to tell you. 'Cause it feels like neither of us knows what to do anymore."

"Would that a rich man wore his own medals-- then we could see how little they have won," Neos says, but she recognizes that her opinion of rich people isn't necessary to this conversation. "But that is a tale for another time. Tell me, then: What does Pandora wish to reveal?

"Surely, you do not wish to face me for Olympic glory."

Mm. They decide to table that part of the conversation for as long as they reasonably can, and ideally forever. They're no fan of these things either, but the realities of their life are... complicated. Well, whatever.

"I don't want to compete against you," they say, trying to smile as they shake off other thoughts. "But I wouldn't mind figuring things out beside you. As long as you're not scared off by someone as unreliable as I am."

"... Why would I be scared off by this? And-- figure myself out?" She tilts her head, like a cat trying to figure out what she is hearing. "It's true that being gently ejected from the girls' martial arts clubs is frustrating, but that's hardly insurmountable; I can still find or make a good partner."

Pandora actually manages a full smile at that, at the display and the things Natalia's saying and the whole display of it all. They may in fact be operating on different wavelengths, but that's fine. "Like I said, Natalia—Neos, sorry, I need to get used to that so I don't out you before you're ready. But like I said, I don't really know what I'm doing, and I don't know what the answers are. But it sounds like you're torn up about a little more than your martial arts club. And I'm..."

A quieter smile as they look away. "Let's say there's a lot of things I wish weren't true about myself."

"It's in the old country. This is a new life. Or. It's supposed to be." She clearly doesn't understand why she's so caught up on it, but she's definitely...

"... but what's the point, then..."

"The point of what?" They can guess, though. "A new start on life is supposed to be about being who we really are inside, right? That's what I tell myself, anyway." It's the nicest of the things they tell themself. "Finding our own paths. Earning our own medals. And it's just... heh. I don't think my brain works right when it comes to doing that. Or I'd know what it means to stand on my own two feet."

Win all she wants. Defeat every monster. Fight every dictator's petty little warlord. ... And still, she will not escape from that moment in the molten steel.

"... So who am I, then?"

Pandora... Hope reaches out and puts a hand gently on Natalia's shoulder, telegraphing it like one might to an intimidating dog.

"I don't know. I don't know who I am, either. All I know is who I don't want to be. Maybe that's a start?"

There's a moment where she almost shies away from the touch, halfway to a fighting stance.

And then-- slowly,

She looks away from Pandora, as if the sight is forbidden her. "I. I should be able to push through this. I have pushed through so much already. This being the place I stick seems... Arbitrary."

"but..."

"If I just... abandon the things I do so well, then... I wouldn't know who I am, either."

Hope lowers their hand and does not begin to try to smile. Their expression holds strong under the weight of empathy, but that doesn't mean they don't still feel it. "I'm not the kind of person who should be giving advice on pushing through stuff. I mean, hell, I drop stuff the second I find out I'm no good at it. You can fit so much quit into this stupid little body."

They want to say more; they end the sentence like they should be saying more. But it just doesn't come. They don't know how to follow that with anything encouraging.

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