1487/Dimension Past: Not Quite a Barrel of Laughs

Dimension Past: Not Quite a Barrel of Laughs
Date of Scene:	24 April 2024
Location:	The Golden Kingdom
Synopsis:	Rashmi finds herself in the Golden Kingdom, following Sage Beryl. A conversation unfolds, but only Beryl is pleased with it's conclusion.
Cast of Characters:	Beryl, Rashmi Terios

---

Beryl has posed:
The portal opens to a really beautifully appointed ground-floor hallway in a place that has gravel walks and manicured gardens out the enormous windows. Enormous by current standards, which involves a lot of plates of glass connected by lattices of fine leadwork, the corners decorated with grisaille painting.

The hallway itself has a marble floor and a high ceiling, with priceless works of art on display by artists who were dead thousands of years before Ancient Egypt, before Sumeria, before Gobekli Tepe was built...

Like the market square some of our heroes were in at the beginning of all this, there are people who are in various wealth-strata of dress-- unlike the marketplace, they seem to start at 'rich but plain' and go to 'rich' and 'ostentatious' and then 'so rich they don't have to be ostentatious' rather than starting at poor and going to rich.

This is either The Palace that was in the distance from the hill, in Earth's probable capital city, or it's someone's wild country estate. Either way, the hallway contains a multitude of doors and people alike, with many bustling in and out of a pair of wide double doors just ahead. There are smaller double doors behind Rashmi, and some normal doors along the hallway itself, between large paintings, beautiful wall hangings, and bone china with gold filigree set out on display.

There is a woman who strides amidst these people, tall with long curling black hair to her waist, rather than red. Her eyes are still red, though they lack the yellow tint to the whites those who could see through the veil could spot. Still, there's something recognizable about her, something that makes it impossible to miss who she is in the present, the woman she'll become.

Sage Beryl makes her way through the hall, passing right by Rashmi without a second glance - no one can see her, after all - as she makes her way through a side door in the palace. The door will remain open for a moment, before it begins to swing shut.

Rashmi's still in stealth. She'll have time to follow, if she so pleases.

Rashmi Terios has posed:
This entire portal nonsense has been... trying.

There have been a few bright points, like when she met the Princess Serenity of the past, and actually got to see past all of Sunbreaker's armor to the scared, lonely little girl at her core... But most it has been witnessing death and horror and tragedy and running from a *lot* of high-test magical murder powers.

So to say that she is frazzled, upon landing from her latest portal excursion in some sort of noble household in a *grandly* beautiful setting... might be putting it mildly.

Indeed, Rashmi is too upset to be enthralled by the *grandeur* on display, which those who know her might find concerning.

So without much clue of what to do beside dread the future, she tucked herself by a painting and waited, doing breathing exercises and trying to settle her mind--

--when Beryl walks past.

And the urge to huck an ornamental silver bowl at the black-haired witch's head is, frankly, almost overpowering.

But wrestle the impulse down she does, and instead slips away from the wall to follow. This is, so logic dictates, not the Beryl that anyone has described spotting before... so if the Beryl of their time is to be taken at her word, she might lead Rashmi to an important, formative event. And if Sunbreaker can just announce that she's haring off to find the secret of the woman's magic, surely *she* can slip between the cracks and get a few answers of her own.

Chief among them, 'Why would anyone even *do* all of this?'

Beryl has posed:
The side door that Beryl has stepped through leads to another hallway, a smaller and branching one without nearly so much grandeur and ornamentation. Walking with the casual purpose of one who has strode these halls a thousand times, Beryl strides on, until the hall reaches a pair of staircases, which she climbs down without hesitation. Three flights of curving stairs does she descend, each carved stone, well-maintained and clean, but simple. These are not areas of the palace that guests, visitors, or even the average person who is meant to be here regularly passes through.

Ultimately the stairs end at a door, and when Beryl stalks through it, she is in a hall filled with doors, each with their own label - Onyx, Amber, Legrandite -

Until she reaches the one labeled Beryl, and steps inside. The rooms are in workshops, and Beryl's is large, equipped with a variety of items ranging from tools of various shapes and sizes to flasks and containers to precious stones and herbs, all neatly arranged on shelves. There is a cauldron - several, actually but only one currently set up for use - filled with dark liquid, and she peers inside of it for a long moment, assessing. There's an energy coming from that liquid, a sense of something profoundly wrong. The liquid is stirred, once, twice, and then a large ladle is used to pour the liquid into a variety of glass sample containers.

"These will be useful for the next trials," she murmurs, then twists her lips, bitter. "If the prince doesn't continue to object, at least. The queen listens to him above all."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
The good thing about the side passages is, there's no fear of the impulse for Rashmi to take out her frustrations, with nothing loose for display at hand. And as Beryl winds her way deeper into the bowels of what must be the Palace of the Golden Kingdom, the redhead decides to make more general use of her time here, and test a suite of theories about the unreal reality of this echo in time; if the place *is* formed of memories, then things understood most deeply by the people at the center of the memory might be identifiable... assessable...

Analyzable.

    << Nico-kun... Passive sensors for now, please, >> she requests, as Beryl steps up to an actual real bubbling cauldron. << Look for a signature match to the Dark Energy we keep running across. >>

    << COMMAND INPUT EXECUTE, >> replies the Device's voice in the back of Rashmi's mind, as it does the Device equivalent of opening its eyes *very wide* to see as much as it possibly can about the magical characteristics of the contents of this workroom.

As Nicomachea takes in his data, Rashmi circles around the cauldron to *face* the witch, and study her closely as she works... and exposits.

Beryl has posed:
Nicomachea is able to run scans unimpeded - in this time long before Device users had ever discovered the Earth, there is no sensor or technology that would prevent his efforts or even notice that those efforts exist. As a result?

Nicomachea will be able to observe that there is dark energy at play, but it is not the dark energy that was observed in the echo of the city eaten by Kunzite or the dark energy which infested those who were attacking the Moon Capital.

It's just... dark energy. Regular flavor.

Meanwhile, Beryl uses a touch of magic to seal and label each sample dot. The labels can't be understood - they're simply a blur.

"This is our future. The general populace doesn't have enough magic - and that may change, over the course of Endymion's lifetime, but not if he goes and signs our planet away to the people of the moon and stars. How can he not see that his short life will be nothing to that witch?"

Rashmi Terios has posed:
In the face of Serenity's outlining the Moon's mission statement toward Earth, Rashmi can't help but roll her eyes at Beryl's ranting.

*Of course* it never occurred to her to uncover the truth, and *of course* she just attributed the worst possible motives to a sheltered, innocent girl.

But she holds in the sigh, in case responding *to* Beryl is enough to activate her *participation* in this echo. Instead...


<< Nico-kun, can you get a read on what's *in* the pot? I want to know what's putting off that energy, and we have to at least assume she's not the 'throw it at the wall and see what sticks' kind of mad magiscientist. >>

    << ACKNOWLEDGED >>

Beryl has posed:
"I know what the prince thinks. He thinks we can make peace with them, we can share our culture and they theirs, we can come together in harmony."

Beryl shakes her head, scowling, and covers the cauldron with a lead lid.

"The Queen of the Moon has been the same woman for eons. Going back as far as our legends and myths show, for as long as there have been people on the Moon, there has been a single ruler. Her daughter may be some bright-eyed chit, some fool who means to steal Endymion away for as long as her attention lingers on him, but no one who commands an empire through the age of myth and beyond will ever see our people as equal."

She looks at the vials in her hand, and shakes her head.

"That's why we must have our own power. We cannot be dependent on the might of the Moon, for we cannot trust that their goals are ours."

And Nichomachea will be able to read that the liquid is dark energy, suspended in liquid form, bio-accessible. Someone could drink this, and find their magical abilities boosted - and their dark energy, their anger, their pride, all their worst qualities. With just one vial, the boost in strength would be greater than the boost of negative impulses...

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Truth: This is not reality. You can't change the future by 'changing the past.'

Truth: You can interact with these echoes, insert yourself into the story... but there are no ripple effects beyond the immediate present.

Truth: When you interact with these echoes, you interact with the person as they are now.

Truth: THere will never be a better time to interrogate Beryl's deepest motives than now.

Swapping into her Barrier Jacket, she tucks Nicomachea against her chest, and takes half a step back, so that she's not leaning over the cauldron, and takes a long, deep breath. Time to stop reacting, and start participating.

"...You figured out how to *make a potion* out of negative emotions, because dark energy is so... *durable.* That's astounding."

Beryl has posed:
These six samples will be used for more tests, on the subjects that have already volunteered for the opportunity to gain more strength, to defend their homes. She's distracted by her work, by her own bitter musings and fears - but she isn't so distracted as to not be capable of responding instantly a threat.

And make no mistake - Rashmi, having appeared in her very own workshop with no warning, here deep within the palace - is a threat.

Light catalyzes around Beryl's hands as she summons magic - dark energy enhanced, perhaps, but not solely dark energy and faces Rashmi, eyes narrowed and suspicious.

"Who are you?" She demands, "How did you come to be here, in this place? And what do you think you know about my work?"

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Rashmi may be prone to startling at the unexpected, and feels terror as easily as any other teenage girl. But her entire experience with magic began with violence, and between the nigh-weekly youma fights and her boyfriend's *particularly* enthusiastic combat training regiments, an attack summoned and held in reserve is something to notice, and respect, but not *fear.

So rather than cower, or overreact, Rashmi simply keeps an eye on the conjured power, as she talks.

"To answer your first two questions first... I'm from the future, and... I'm from the future. The *far* future, long after everything around us has fallen so far into history it gets eaten by the sands of time. As for what I think I know about your work... Not much. Just what happens after. I know what your work *does,* and I want to know if you honestly think it'll be worth it... Or if it's just the results of your work poisoning your mind. And make no mistake, *nothing* lasting comes out of that goop in your cauldron."

<< Nico-kun, auto-defense authorized. >>

Beryl has posed:
"The future." Beryl says it scornfully, and then, again, consideringly. "The future."

It's true, that the style and fashion of the girl's clothing is unknown to her, the material not readily recognized. There was something unnatural of the make, and thus, perhaps the future was not so far-fetched. And yet -

"You contradict yourself, girl. My creation can result of nothing long-lasting, yet, in this future so far beyond this time, where this world is lost to history, you still recognize that which I have created. The argument seems that this, above all else, is what persists into the future."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"*I* know," Rashmi counters. "A few dozen other people know. But there are six billion people on Earth, now, and magic is so obscure it's thought to be fantasy. They *can't* know, can't even hold it in their heads. But d'you want to know what happens next? I can tell you, because it's impossible to stop. You won't even remember our conversation, and history will always have happened."

For a moment she pauses, taking a deep breath and looking about her immediate vicinity... then spots a stool at a workbench just behind her. "...D'you mind if I sit? I'm not here to harm you, and sitting down'll give you the advantage anyway."

As she waits for the answer, she looks back in the cauldron, and tips her head to one side. "...Also I'm curious to know how you figured out *how* to distill that stuff."

Beryl has posed:
"I'm hardly going to share that with you," Beryl says coolly, as internally she boggles. Billions. Of people on the planet? An impossibly vast number. And yet -

"There are magics ancient and long lost to time. And yet, in your time, what I have discovered is still there. You have yet to make a case on that point."

But she considers, and she looks at the girl, knowing full well that she could kill her, and decides. "Very well. You so obviously wish to speak to me of the future, and I have no reason to deny you. Either you speak the truth and I will forget, or you lie, and I will have gained valuable knowledge. Sit," she gestures carelessly, but her magic does not fade. She's still being cautious. "Share what you would."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
Nodding, Rashmi gathers up her skirts and sits on the stool. "Let's start with the nearest future," she says, gathering her thoughts, her emotions, and her temper; it feels like all three will need to be held closely if she's going to get what she needs. "Your work gives power to people who use it, sure. Especially to the Prince's guardians. It gives them power, sure. It also bathes them in their fears, their character flaws, and makes them dangerous. To themselves, to the people around them, and to the Prince."

Settling Nicomachea on her lap, she lifts her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose. "There is a demon locked in the sun. You, apparently, think it's a good idea to offer it energy, eventually to free it. You use the Prince's guardians. They *kill* people in *job lots* to provide the energy you need. Then, when the demon finally gets free, it holds up its end of the bargain. It *sets the Earth on fire,* and you use the power of all that ended life to take an army of Dark Energy-maddened people to the moon. The Golden Kingdom dies, and the Moon dies, and every guardian of every planet in this *system* dies."

Rashmi nods to the cauldron. "All thanks to that."

Beryl has posed:
"The power to destroy whole kingdoms in a single cauldron," Beryl says calmly, "Certainly seems a thing well made."

If Rashmi expected a worse reaction... she doesn't get one.

"A demon in the sun and a witch on the moon. The heavens are bountiful in their offerings, most clearly. And yet, for all this death apparent, the Earth has over a billion lives at once." Is there doubt in her heart, hearing this? No, because she does not believe. This is a strange girl from a strange land who insists that everything Beryl has ever worked for is doomed, and yet, if all the world is doomed how is there a future?

"Are you one of them? The denizens of the moon?"

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"Nope," Rashmi sighs, disappointed by this... threadbare... reaction, and quite visibly. "I'm just a schoolgirl from a big Earth city. And, sure, you didn't kill *everyone.* But, fourteen thousand years later, humankind has only just managed to figure out *how* to leave the surface of the Earth... but not survive it. And, fourteen thousand years later, the last desperate act of the Moon bears fruit; the demon got sealed back away, and the Moon Princess and her guardians, and the Prince, are all reborn. And so, apparently, are you, and the Generals."

Lifting her shoulder in a half-shrug, she shakes her head. "And you're now big fish in a *very* crowded pond, stuffed full of people who use some kind of use of Dark Energy for their own goals; world domination, destruction, universal despair. But now you're *just another* terrifyingly powerful super-mage. And the few dozen people I told you about, who know you're even a thing at all? Are mostly people like me, who fell facefirst into magic and believe that power is only worthwhile if you're protecting people."

Raking a hand through her hair, Rashmi looks up, uttering a soft, three-syllable laugh. "...And y'know the most amazing part? The *day* the Princess woke up to the whole of her power, you lost control of all your Generals. So now you're a big fish in a crowded pond, and *everyone* has more loyal and competent underlings than you do. All you have is your position as an *office manager,* and you have to start over *from scratch* waking the demon up again. You're a name on an organization chart, repeating the past because you couldn't learn from it."

Beryl has posed:
Beryl listens calmly, and it may be infuriating for Rashmi, to hear her response:

"Through my actions, and the actions of those who support me, for girl, never doubt that I have support within the court, the greatest threat to the Earth has been dismantled, such that rather than their ancient queen so foolishly mistaken for a goddess, they are forced to rely on the slip of a girl to defeat me. There are many, competing forces, all of whom yearn for power, all of whom fight for it, and there is no Silver Millennium standing overhead, watching and judging."

The thought pleases her. There is some distress, at the thought of her world burning, but greater surety, at the knowledge that it persists, free at last from the tyranny of the specter looming over head.

"Thank you, girl. You have reassured me. For the Generals belong to the Prince, and for them to have been mind even for a time means that my power, and this potion, grows such that I may steal away even those touched by the great magic of the Earth. This is the way. The Earth will be free to grow without that eternal witch watching over, my power will grow, continuing with out her - and without the queen," she realizes it, and there is a pang, "And the Prince, may have chosen foolishly once more, but the power will be mine, and if the prince cannot separate from that girl..."

There is a pang, foolish though it is. She does have fondness for that boy, for his power, yes, but his naivety, his kindness, his persistence in thinking that those who would watch from above like gods would ever be true allies, those two, are quite... cute.

"You wish to use your power to serve others, dedicating your life to maintaining the status quo. I have and now will, again, live to transform life, to change it, to improve it - and I will succeed, for the Silver Millennium shall not return."

Rashmi Terios has posed:
"Of course you have support in the court," Rashmi sighs. "Millennia later, we *still* have to contend with short-sighted power-brokers who think what's good for *them* is what's good for everyone. When they can be bothered to care about the world at all."

Realization happens, but instead of shock, or horror... It looks as though a *tremendous* weight has fallen on Rashmi's shoulders. "And... That's really what's happening here, isn't it? You can't *imagine* a people waiting for you to climb to reach *them,* they *have* to be small and judgmental because... That's all you ever were, wasn't it?"

Sighing, Rashmi slips off the stool. "I think I've learned what I need to, now. Because you say it's worth it to throw off the Silver Millennium... But you're doing it all over again, fourteen thousand years later. And there's no Millennium there. So... unless there's an *actual* reason and not justification, the only future that has a chance of being best for the greatest number of people... is one without you in it."

There's a strong possibility that the portal, when it opens, will be in this room, but... Rashmi would rather be anywhere other than here. And she needs to at least break eye contact, if it turns out she has to come back.

"I wish we'd never talked... But I suppose it needed to happen. Goodbye, Beryl."

And she just... walks around the far side of the cauldron from the Sage, heading for the exit.

...Rashmi's not an *idiot,* her auto-defenses are still up, but... She's not here for a fight, and she's too emotionally wrung out to really work up a good head of steam. She just... wants to be elsewhere, now.

Beryl has posed:
"And you can?" Beryl raises her brows. "You look at a people who are as close to your literal neighbors as they can be, in the stars, who watch your struggles and strife, your sickness and death, who could if they so wished, end the struggle and toil of an entire world - but they do not. And it is only when a boy with the power of the world itself is born, that suddenly, there is a care for diplomacy? Suddenly, when our Prince, whose heart is the magic of the Earth itself is born, that is when suddenly, we have reached high enough to be acknowledged?"

Beryl shakes her head with scorn. "We were not enough in all of our years until a boy with power perhaps equal to their own came to be among us, and then, they want to carry him away, at least until his time is over, and the planet he delivered to their hands, is still in their hands."

Beryl considers shooting the girl in the back, for her pity and her foolishness - but truthfully?

She is unimportant. Her message: that Beryl will remove the would be gods who watch from above and do not help but wait until the ripest fruit is ready to be plucked, are gone.