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[bluescreenwhitedragon]

"This is Intensity. Leave a message."

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[sancrimony]

[ with a nod, then ]

Very well.

[ and, a pause ]

. . . Were you alone?

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

Why does that matter?

[sancrimony]

[ considering the question for a moment - then, as though he's finally remembered to do so, he sets down a cup of tea for him. ]

. . . I wondered why it was that my Master was treated in such a way and then killed. But, in the grand scheme of things, I'm sure the details don't matter.

Still, I want to know.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

I never died.

[And he spreads his arms wide as if to prove a point]

Still Hell-infusion free. Which I cannot say for the rest of the party. Or you - for that matter.

Paladins - off to save an angel even though half had no memories and the rest had no idea where to look. But my rival was with them, you see. And two others I hold in high esteem.

And while I do not regret it -- I find my goodwill toward missions of that kind vastly depleted after all of this.

[sancrimony]

[ his eyebrows go up at the mention of paladins ]

. . . I see. So you struck a deal with the Lady.

I must ask, then. Of those in the field now, who amongst them are capable of preventing a matter like that from happening again? That is - are they capable of doing so? In light of what happened, I would imagine there must be some sort of shuffling, or at least some manner of training or preparation in the case of another event like this.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

Of course. Some more of my... people-friendly staff are looking into counter measures right now.

The most important being trying to reduce this single point of failure that communication seems to constantly be an issue. It seems like the notes aren't nearly aggressive enough.

[sancrimony]

Or perhaps the frequency is lacking - ? Well, I can't say that my own unit is particularly well versed in disseminating the information as a group.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

People won't read it until they need it. So how do we better facilitate communication in the 11th hour?

That's the real question.

[sancrimony]

Using a method that avoids using technology that can be tampered with as well, I would imagine.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

Or communicating in a way that is secure despite technology as a medium. But that's a trickier and more long term vision.

But concerning short term things---

[Pointing to the whispy shadows at his feet]

Are those permanent?

[sancrimony]

[ . . . disgruntled, ]

They weren't present when I was in Liar Hell. This is one of several symptoms that manifested after I returned - so I must unfortunately say it must be permanent.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

...

Do they hurt?

[sancrimony]

. . . No, but it does feel heavy.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

I'm sure there's some amazing symbolism going on there.

[sancrimony]

If nothing else, they're poor jokes. Did you want a list of them?

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

There's more than one?

[Of course there is]

Then yes.

[sancrimony]

. . . Since I returned, the scent of lilies has not left me.

[ with a pause ]

Were I to step upon a body of water, this body will float. What runs through my veins is no longer blood.

[ . . . ]

The last . . . at the moment, it is not a problem.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

What is it?

If it's not blood.

[sancrimony]

. . . As far as I can tell, it is indistinguishable from water.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

Well. Let's not test it anymore than that.

[Crouches down to hold out a hand to the shadows curling near Lucifel. Are they tactile?]

[sancrimony]

[ the fingerpads seem to be, though the rest is mistlike in density - there's just enough feeling that, when a hand reaches to meet intensity's, he can barely feel the tiniest tug, with strength less than a child's. ]

Certainly, I'd prefer not to. I have yet to bring these changes up to anyone -

[ with a pause ]

Well, though I don't think they're particularly important, I must admit that acknowledging them is somewhat unpleasant.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[He lets the shadow tug on his hand, momentarily fascinated before raising his head back up to look at Lucifel]

Then your secret should be safe.

Provided no one tries to dunk you into the bay.

[sancrimony]

[ it returns to clinging to his clothes then, and he gives a little huff of a laugh, wry ]

I'm not optimistic of the next violent game - nor am I of the next time Dia-sama wishes to cook for me.

Ah, I should say as well. Mentally speaking, there is something amiss in my own memory; I am somewhat able to identify the discrepancy, but since we're on the subject, it would be remiss not to bring it up as well.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[Dia is a bad cook. This is somehow 0% surprising.

Though he stiffens a bit at that. Oh? Memory loss, you say?]

Is that so?

[He frowns]

Any more hint than that?

[sancrimony]

[ the unfortunate thing is that she's actually pretty OK at it but he doesn't want to regenerate any of the wounds he has going on right now because (looks at notes) he hates his corruptions ]

It was not "loss", but a "gain". Rather, it was . . .

[ with some consideration as to how he should word it ]

For much of the beginning . . . period of time, that the maintenance had started, I was in my own hotel room. There, it felt as though seconds were multiplied and then multiplied again - by the time I had spoken to another person at all, it felt as though I was already made a resident of that Hell, from how long I felt I had been there.

[ with a pause ]

. . . I'm certain it must not have been the case, for I do recall the bus ride to that Hell in the first place. Still, the feeling is unshakeable at the moment.