a city and a mint who sleep very little between them

[self_composed]

Bella bikes to the airport on Friday. She gets a little reading done on her flight, then sleeps-on-purpose through the remainder of the trip, waking up precisely when the plane touches down. One nice bonus that she didn't even explicitly build into the power is that she can sleep at will in virtually any position; she doesn't have to get comfy if that's not convenient.

She steps off the plane, backpack full of her things over her shoulders, and stalks into the halls of LaGuardia, eyes peeled for Libby.

Comments

[prima_sequentem]

[Not as such,] says Libby, [but it's probably still safer if I put us there. You don't have any inconvenient phobias, do you? Heights, small spaces?]

[self_composed]

[Nope.]

[prima_sequentem]

[Great.]

The ladies' room is deserted when they step inside; a moment later, it is deserted again.



Libby's lair, or whatever, is bizarrely designed. They appear standing in a small, rocky alcove with a slightly damp floor, sealed off by a pristine glass wall, facing an enormous globe across a wide empty space. Far below them is something green-black and rippling that may or may not be water. The walls all around are more rock; the domed ceiling is the same colour as the watery floor.

It's really, really cold. Just-barely-above-freezing cold.

[self_composed]

Bella does not mind the cold, and does not care anymore about concealing this or her other powers. "What's with the terrarium setup?"

[prima_sequentem]

"I wanted it in vacuum," she says. "And somewhere inaccessible. And very inconvenient to teleport to if you don't know what you're doing. It's impossible to teleport out if you're not on the list, by the way. You are now on the list."

[self_composed]

"I don't have to breathe," Bella remarks idly. "I suppose I don't have depressurization handled except the regen could probably work faster than it. Where are we? Geographically?" She peers at the globe. [Lazarus, wanna see if I can get you an invite to come stare at Libby's pretty mint-detecting globe?]

[prima_sequentem]

The globe is very pretty. It shows the planet's surface in more or less full colour, with appropriate variation in height for things like mountains, and there are pins sticking out of it: a sea-green one in New York, a purple one in the Arctic Ocean.

Libby points at the latter.

"That's me. The vacuum is mostly for visibility; the extra hazard is just a bonus."

[nonbird]

[Um,] says Lazarus. [Maybe?]

[self_composed]

"How does it look for mints? I notice it hasn't got me, and I don't see Whistle either."

[Maybe?]

[prima_sequentem]

"It shows the current location of anyone who has ever minted a coin with a pin in the appropriate colour. Apparently it can't find you two past your wards. You did both show up at one point. One red and glowy, one black with highlights."

[self_composed]

"I'm red-and-glowy," Bella volunteers. "Hmm. If I were doing this, I'd look not just for mints, but for coins. And ingots. A not-a-mint could still stir up trouble, or be helpful, if they have a stash or a cool power. But I want to think about how to be thorough, really informative..."

[prima_sequentem]

"Take your time," says Libby.

[nonbird]

[Curiosity and nervousness are fighting it out. I'll let you know who wins.]

[self_composed]

[She let me lie-detect her and told me she wants to help me take over the world, and told me what's wrong with stars. I don't think she'd do you harm. Although you might not like it here if you're claustrophobic or scared of heights.]

[nonbird]

[What is wrong with stars?]

[self_composed]

[I think I actually agree with her that it's not the sort of thing that you want generally known, so don't go spreading this hither and thither, but you've got a shot of finding out if you hang around me enough anyway. Coins are mean and will try to bite; stars are the ones with enough oomph to reliably screw you up. I think that might be the spare magic you saw escaping. A hex'll wish a star toothless, so to speak.]

[nonbird]

[I agree with her that it's not the sort of thing you want generally known,] says Lazarus. [Stars are scary.]

[self_composed]

[Lemme ask Libby to have you come look at this pretty globe,] Bella wheedles. [Bring a coat.]

[nonbird]

[...okay,] he says, [if only to resolve the bizarre mental images I'm getting of where this thing might be.]

[self_composed]

"Can Lazarus come have a look?" Bella asks. "If not I think I'd just as soon make my own from scratch rather than trying to improve on this one."

[prima_sequentem]

"Sure he can," says Libby. "I assume it was you who just told him about sevens?"

[self_composed]

"He asked, and he'd find out anyway once I started flinging them around. You have some who-knows-about-stars monitoring system up, I take it?"

[prima_sequentem]

"Yep," says Libby. "Curiously, there's always been one person who didn't fit in any of the categories 'knows', 'suspects', or 'doesn't know'. Less curiously, that person is you."

[self_composed]

"My ingot power probably won't let you check, assuming it looks for the contents of my brain and not for whether anyone has ever told me or something," says Bella. "Is Lazarus on your allowed-to-leave list? I imagine he'd be alarmed if I ported him here and he was boxed in."

[prima_sequentem]

"The list controls who can move people out of here, not who can be moved. Bring all the friends you like."