Level 21 and Lyntael is all caught up after the rework now. With recent upgrades raising the limitations on her and allowing her to expand into the power her body has been developing, many of her signatures are getting a slight rework to reflect this.

Lyntael's Buster is 5/4/4 now: (30x4/240/480)
Half-Charge Strike: Expend, +3
Full-Charge Strike: Expend, +6

Lyntael's capacity for managing her charge continues to grow, and she can now handle significantly more energy than she could before – enough to incinerate all but the sturdiest of threats, if she puts all of her effort into it. The resultant strikes have an increased effect on agitating her charge and draining her, but she is gradually growing accustomed to handling this.

For book-keeping:
ShotBase deals 45 damage for 40 sig points
ChargeBase deals 180 damage for 160 sig points
SpectralBase deals 65 damage for 60 sig points
SupportBase heals 18 for 20 sig points.



















Total Signature Points Used: 920/920

====

Cross Signatures are also getting a tweak at this time, to account for Lyntael's new stats, and the system changes:

MartiaCross (Lvl 2): Normal/Melee, +20Hp, +1 Speed

Rp Overcharge Effect: Overcharge Dampener:
- Charge Buster no longer adds Expend
- All Elemental Expends capped at +1
- Electrical Cool-off effects no longer decrease Overcharge
- Overcharge Cools-off passively -1 per turn
- Active Overcharge is treated as Overcharge – Cross Level

Cross Sig Pool: 160/160





==

EternalAuroraCross (Lvl 3): Aqua/Recovery, +40Hp, +2 Speed (Cap 7)

Rp Overcharge Effect: Overcharge Shift:
- Aqua attacks (including Charge Buster) add Expend
- Non-Aqua Expends capped at +1
- Electrical Cool-off effects no longer decrease Overcharge
- Healing creates Cool-off

Cross Sig Pool: 240/240



==

DiverCross (Lvl 1): Aqua/Variable
Rp Overcharge Effect: Overcharge Shift:
- Aqua attacks (including Charge Buster) add Expend
- Non-Aqua Expends capped at +1
- Electrical Cool-off effects no longer decrease Overcharge
- Standard Actions have a 50% chance of creating Cool-off

Cross Sig Pool: 80/80



====

Drago Cross needs to be registered too, and will be coming sometime soon. I think we still have a thread to be counted for FXP.

It did seem like a lot to be spending on upgrades, Rogan found himself thinking as he nodded his thanks tothe shopkeeper and shuffled the items into one pocket of his back. Lyntael had earned it all herself, though, and more or less without his help in the matter. It wasn't anything life-changing of course, but by his guess a person might manage to live a single, low-means lifestyle on that much, perhaps. As he left the store he began integratingthe upgrades one at a time while he walked. The account that he had set aside for Lytnael's use had needed the extra little bit form her bounty to make the costs, so she'd be back soon, and she'd likely aprpeciate it if they were gone from SciLab bythe time she made her way out again.

----------
((To => The Next Meeting))

Lyntael grinned and nodded her head as she acepted the payment, letting it convert to a slim data string that chased up her arm to her emblem then disappeared as she sent it back.

"Thanks! I'm sure Rogan will have me back here soon enough. Bye for now!" She gave a small wave to the prog, then stepped back a few paces. A moment later the smae column of yellow light whisked her away.

----------
((To => Her Home))

((From => Rogan's most recent hotel))
----------

While Lyntael was away, Rogan made his way quickly through the open public spaces of SciLab to the navi shop and stepped inside. Even if she didn't remember the most recent events, he knew Lyntael still remembered her earlier troubles, and he had no doubt she still harboured a reservation coming to SciLab herself. Instead, he'd sent her out to collect her bounty payment, and intended to get the other errand done before she was ready to return, if he could. He moved to the counter and produced his card, along with a short hand-written list of things he'd noted down in advance.

“I need everything here, please. The customiser update is version ten, and process upgrade will be version twenty-one.” He passed the card across the counter along with the list and wondered how long it would take Lyntael to run her own errand.

==

Buying:

BusterUp x6: 45000z
FirstArmour x2: 5000z
Fast Armour: 5000z
HP+200: 15000z
SetSea: 4500z
NaviCust Expand (v10): 3250z
Process Upgrade (v21) : 2100z

Total: 79850z
Rogan's funds: 80035z (Includes bounty hand-in, so that should probably get done first)
Funds remaining: 185z

((Lyntael's Level returns to 20 and increases to 21, Navicust is now 90, Buster is now 5/4/4, Sig pool is 920))

((From => Her home))
----------

A pale yellow beam of light left Lyntael standing not too far from the wrangler's stand and she darted over quickly, giving the program a small wave as she jumped the last couple of feet to stand directly in front of the counter.

Hi! Ah, I've got a bounty contract for Dharmas, but I've got to hand it in for now. I don't think Rogan wants me to get another one just yet, but I got... seven, I think.” She paused for a moment, wondering how to prove it, before her eye caught sight of the sign, and she recalled that the strange little prog could tell regardless. She waited, hands behind her back for an extra moment, then realised something else was missing. “Oh! Um, just in cash, please, no chips. Thank you.”

Lyntael didn't open her eyes. Snuggled under the covers, she shifted slightly and rolled over, enjoying the feeling of her pyjamas against her skin as she moved. The lingering fragments of dreams drifted in her mind as she grew steadily more aware of her bed and less of... whatever it was she'd been dreaming about. It had been... there were pancakes involved, she was sure of it... and there had been... the details faded away despite her semi-conscious efforts to hold onto them.

She sat up and shuffled out of her bed, stretching and fighting back a last yawn as she began to unbutton her pyjamas and slip out of them. Rogan hadn't called on her yet, though it was easily what anyone would count as morning by now. Maybe he'd actually slept properly for once... though somehow she doubted it. After her night clothes were neatly folded up and set back on her re-made bed, Lyntael skipped through to the shower to wake herself up properly.

Rogan still hadn't called for her by the time she was fastening the buckles on her vest in front of her mirror. She paused and looked at herself. Nothing seemed out of place. She'd spent so long wishing, hoping, longing for Rogan to just look at her, and see her... and now something had happened, something she couldn't remember, and for the first time, ever, he was looking at her like he was seeing a person, but... but something was wrong and she couldn't tell what it was.

With a sigh, she scrubbed fingers through her hair one more time and turned from the mirror, heading for the kitchen instead. They were hurting and upset, and now they'd severed ties with each other, and she was caught in the middle of it all, somehow. She couldn't recall anything past the first day or two they'd spent in the Yumland jungles... it went from the evening with the storm, to a foggy, confused few hours glimpsing an airport hotel room, and then Eric's home, and only came back into clarity, and details she could be certain of when they had both been down in the basement with her together. She was lucky to be alive, she knew that much... but she was, and she didn't feel like anything else was wrong with her. How to reconcile the two?

As she made tea for herself and looked out the window at the gently falling rain in her garden, Lyntael pondered the problem. It was difficult when they didn't want to even talk to her about what had happened in the first place, but she could only suppose that, for now, whatever else had set them at odds was probably a bit raw still.

While she waited for the tea to draw properly, Lyntael set about making breakfast and a few minutes later moved through to the living room, to curl up on the couch with a steaming drink and a full plate. She glanced about the room as she blew on her tea and took a sip.

It was pleasant enough, but maybe a bit too much blue? She remembered picking everything out so carefully, getting it just right, but now that she looked at it, it wasn't quite as perfect as she'd thought at first. It might be time to redecorate a little bit, perhaps. Maybe later though. Why did he see so upset, when he looked at her? He was putting on a brave face but after they'd left Eric's home he'd been unable to hide at all how fragile his stoicism was. She wanted him to see her, but now when he looked, it was wrong. Once or twice, when she'd been talking to him during the day, he'd looked at her like... not like she was nothing; that she was used to... but like she was there, and a stranger to him. Somehow that was worse.

She sighed and brushed the heavy thoughts aside as she finished her breakfast and washed up. This was not a good way to start the morning. Maybe she could send a message to Aurora. She and Eternalis had been through some pretty difficult times, between themselves; they might have some ideas she hadn't thought of yet. That was something she could do. She nodded to herself.

“Lyntael... Are you awake?” Her head perked up as Rogan's voice reached her and cut through her other thoughts.

“Yes, sir. Have you eaten yet?” She finished putting her breakfast things away as the grin curled across her lips, then moved back to the living area in case he needed her. There was an extra moment of hesitation.

“I- No, Lyntael, not yet. I'll get something on the way. I have some errands to run, but if I am not mistaken, you still have an outstanding bounty contract.” She nodded in response to his query before realising that he couldn't see, without the screen active.

“Ah, yes. We didn't get very many, but I've got enough recorded for a small hand in. Um... did you want me to work on that more?” As she spoke, Lyntael frowned. The usual trepidation she felt at the very thought of dealing with viruses was... quiet. She was still nervous about the concept, of course, but the anxiety she remembered feeling was gone. A moment later Rogan answered, though he sounded distracted.

“No, no Lyntael, that's alright. I'm heading out, but I may have you clear that bounty and hand in what you can while we're out. The... reserve that we've set aside for your upgrades has built up quite substantially, and I–” His voice faltered. “I really should have...” There was silence for a few moments before he started again. “Regardless, it's time we got to work.”

From where she stood in the middle of the living area, Lyntael frowned and folded her arms. More things he didn't want to say to her. She didn't mind him keeping his secrets, but when they were explicitly about her, that wasn't fair. A moment later she sighed and shook her head, then stepped up to the view screen and activated it, slipping out into Rogan's hotel room.

==

When Rogan turned back to the desk to claim the last of his possessions, Lyntael was standing on the edge, just beyond where her Pet rested, waiting for him. He shouldered his bag and settled it, checked the room one more time, then scooped up the device and slipped it into his pocket while holding out his other hand for the small program. As she swung up onto his palm he lifted it to let her leap across to her favoured purchase on his shoulder. The action came almost by instinct, identical in every way to the behaviour they'd developed months ago, and the small giggle of laughter that escaped amidst her clambering made his chest hurt all over again. She still preferred being out, in her hologram, with him, than staying away in the PET, when she could. He fought the painful sensation off and left the room.

((To => SciLab))
((Lyntael Branch To => Bounty Shop))

((From => Eric's Home))
----------

Rogan opened his eyes. Cracks traced across the cheap plaster ceiling above him, sending crooked black lines through the discoloured, yellowing surface. Spots of black moulding gathered in one corner of the ceiling, where the damp had gathered over many long years. Outside, rain continued to fall, and the sliding door that led out to the tiny balcony rattled in is housing as the wind blew against it. The room was freezing cold and he shifted in his coat, shivering as he yawned. What time was it?

He sat up and stood from the bed, stretching and rolling his shoulders. Night still. On the bed stand, the clock told him in glowing red digits that it had barely been a couple of hours since he had lain down. After a moment he let himself sit on the edge of the bed again and closed his eyes, drawing a long breath and letting it out again with a sigh. The weight in his chest hadn't abated, and when he tried to sleep, images from that basement rose up in his mind, and then back further, to everything he might have done differently, around and around, again and again.

After a moment, Rogan stood again and walked to the curtains drawn across the rattling glass and twitched one aside far enough to look out. A lonely street, and between the opposite buildings, a small park, not far off. He couldn't see much. He should talk to her properly, he knew that. She'd be asleep now; it wasn't worth waking her up over. He shook his head and closed the curtain again, then wandered around the room, distracted. How could he even begin that conversation? How could it even matter, another part of him cut back, when he wouldn't be talking to her any more?

His steps carried him to the tiny kitchenette that was set into an alcove by the room's main door. He stood in front of it, staring down at the different implements for several long moments. After a while, he reached out and filled the kettle, then set it back on its stand. They'd done everything they could for Lyntael, and words wouldn't undo any of the things that their efforts... Eric's efforts, really... hadn't been able to. The girl now wasn't hurting, wasn't scared.... and the greatest mercy of all, perhaps, she didn't know, or remember, anything that had happened. She seemed... positive, determined... Happy, even. Sparing her that knowledge was important. He didn't know if it was a risk, but if so, he wasn't going to chance her recovering any memory of those brutal last minutes, or the horror that would surely come with them. His eyes drifted around the counter, and then, after another moment he blinked, and reached over to flick the switch on the kettle and set it heating.

As the white noise of the appliance quietly drowned out the rain, Rogan washed out a mug and dropped two teabags into it from the half-empty box nearby. He watched the water in the bottom of the mug soak slowly into them, but couldn't be bothered to fix the mistake. He wandered away from the counter, casting his eyes around the rest of the room instead while he waited for the kettle to boil.

The carpet in the hotel room had been replaced some time in the last couple of years, probably – it was less stained and worn that most of the other fixtures. It was an unappealing brown-and-beige shag, the kind that would hide most stains and spills reasonably well with minimal effort. The bedding didn't match, and the lacquer on the woodwork had chipped off in large swathes. The room was empty, aside from his shoulder bag and laptop, and the PET sitting on the night stand. Eric's home had a cluttered cosy atmosphere to it that was comfortable and well kept. Despite how it might have looked on the outside, Eric took good care of himself and his home. She would have been happier there. He rolled his shoulders and pushed the uncomfortable thought aside.

He couldn't go back. His brother... Eric... had made that clear, and while a part of him knew that their bond and their history wouldn't ever be entirely broken, he knew he wasn't welcome. He didn't know which was hurting him more, right now, and that knowledge alone was a painful regret that he couldn't reconcile yet. It should have been his brother – that loss should have felt the worst of any, and yet... right alongside it, the turbulent war of emotions surrounding Lyntael and his responsibility for her was every bit as destructive. For what had it been? Pride and stubbornness... other excuses, but truly, nothing more valuable that those, and what were they worth in the end? He exploited other people's excessive pride and stubbornness, took satisfaction in it even... when had his own pride and satisfaction become hubris bad enough to do the harm he had?

The quiet of the rain outside made Rogan glance towards the window, then back to the kitchenette. The kettle had boiled at some point. He returned to the counter and looked at it, eyes drifting between the kettle, his mug, the damp tea bags, and the other supplies set neatly against the back board. He'd need to talk to Varda soon as well. The sooner the better, really. Word would reach her rapidly; it probably had already, in some fashion. The sooner he reported to her, the easier it would be to handle the damage control. He had thought about blaming Varda and her family for everything, but the thought had passed by without taking hold. Her information had been flawed, and he and Lyntael had been the ones to suffer for it, but... there was little point laying blame unless it served a purpose. It didn't change anything about his own choices. He poured the water into his mug, watching it swirl and spin the teabags around. As he reached for the tags, he blinked; they were clipped to the teabags themselves, the strings folded up still, and spinning slowly in the mug now along with everything else. He watched the movement slow gradually.

Before she had gone to sleep, Lyntael had made him promise to eat a proper dinner and sleep properly himself. She knew things were wrong, but she seemed hopeful that they'd get better soon. She'd told him she loved him, before going, and he'd spent several long seconds stuck in uncertain, painful confusion, looking back at her, hands on her hips, head tilted and one eyebrow raised. Before he'd managed to respond, she'd just given him a wry smile and told him good night before disappearing. She was worried about him, and that much was so familiar, and yet...

Eventually, he extracted the drifting teabags carefully and dropped them in the bin. Should have used a spoon, probably. The water might still have been hot. He took a sip and grimaced. Luke-warm, bitter tannin water. Milk. With a shake of his head, Rogan retrieved one of the plastic milk shots and emptied it in, then took another sip. Better. Not much better, but a little. He drank it slowly, moving to look out the window again.

Later, the dark sky took on grey false-dawn edges and Rogan turned back to look at the hotel room, pulling back the curtain properly to let the beginnings of light creep in. He should set up a meeting with Varda. That was the next thing that he needed to do, before anything else. With a nod to himself he retrieved his laptop and sat at the one desk in the room, and tried to focus.

Lyntael was standing on the edge of the low coffee table, feet planted and arms folded as she looked up at Eric. He had anticipated this conversation, but not exactly under these circumstances, and certainly not with this much force from the girl. He wasn't ready for it, not yet.

“He wouldn't have left me here unless you told him to. I can believe that he'd go without saying goodbye, but not that'd he'd leave me behind. He wouldn't leave me, I know he wouldn't. I can tell you've both had a fight, Eric, but...” She wasn't angry at him, he could be sure of that much, but her voice made it very clear that she was still expecting to go home with Rogan at the end of the day. How he could convince her to stay, without having to reveal to her everything that had happened, and tell her about her own death?

“You're right, Lyntael, and I'm sorry for keeping it from you, but, it's really between us, and I didn't want to bring you down with our bickering. I can't forgive him, but you know I love you very much, and I would feel much more comfortable if you chose to live here, with us.” He was clasping his hands together earnestly in front of himself as he sat forward on the couch, watching her, and she reached out across the short gap to rub one hand across his finger, her features softening again.

“I'd like to stay too, Eric, but you said he needed me, I remember that, and it really looks like he does need me, or someone, more than ever right now. It looks like far more than bickering to me, but whatever it is, you're both here, and you're both well, and I'm here and I'm well, and no-one's been hurt or anything, have they? I'm sure you can sort it out, can't you?” Oblivious to how keenly her off-handed assurance cut at the bone of the problem, Lyntael tilted her head, grinning to him. It was still painful, seeing all the little ways in which the Lyntael here and now, was a different young lady to the Lyntael he first welcomed into the world. He sighed.

“Maybe we will, one day. Maybe he'll change; I can hope, but I can't have him around me at the moment.” His eyes dropped as he reflected on the man that he'd had to bring back inside and put to bed. It had been very hard for him to speak the words he did, even with his anger bolstering them, but he hadn't expected Rogan to fall apart as thoroughly as he had. He'd almost believed that the man didn't have that much raw emotion left in him to show, but then, it had just all come out.

“Eric...?” When he looked up again, Lyntael was in the process of jumping across to his hands, so she could climb over to look at his eyes, even when they were downcast. He shook his head and apologised in a quiet murmur before she went on. “You're both really upset about all of this, whatever this is, and I don't want to see either of you upset or angry, especially not at each other... But you've said there's nothing I can do, and that it's not my fault. If that's all there is to it, then I still feel like my place needs to be with him. It's where I need to be; you said so, and I think you're right.”

“I... Lyntael, it's too dangerous. I thought so, when I first sent you to him, I knew he needed a ray of sunshine in his life, but his life is so dangerous, and you are so dear to me. It doesn't need to be your place.” He found himself searching for other arguments, things he could say to convince her. Rogan had neglected to mention that he'd been shot, in his description of what had happened; a fact Eric had only discovered as he had put the man to bed... but he wasn't about to bring that up now. He sought for other reasons.

“You've told me a lot about how he treated you, and just hearing it hurts me, Lyntael. You weren't happy there, and I don't trust that man enough to think he'll suddenly change now. I want you to be happy, and I know that if you choose to stay here with us, you will be. I just don't know if I can bear to send you away with him again. I couldn't bear to lose you,” he swallowed the second 'again' before it had a chance to escape, and Lyntael dropped down, sitting on his hands now, with her legs crossed and her chin in one hand.

“I know. I'm not blind, Eric. Whatever happened, it involved me, and our last mission, and it's why I can't remember any of it. I'm guessing that I'm lucky to still be here at all, right?” Eric managed to turn his flinch into a rough nod, though it was difficult. “Well, I am. That's what matters, right? I'm here, I'm myself, just like I've always been. I'm fine.” She looked pensive for a moment, biting her lip. “If something happening to me is what did that to Rogan, I'd be very surprised.” She sounded more than a little down about that, and the small, wistful sigh was almost identical to the old Lyntael's reaction to such things. Eric sighed with her, dropping his eyes again.

“He was far more worried about you than he wanted to admit, Lyntael... than I think he probably ever will... but... No... no that was probably me.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Something very hard, very final, and... and very hurtful. I'm not going to take it back, either. It was very difficult for me to say, but fully deserved; I meant it.” He still hadn't had that drink. He really needed it about now. And some more sleep, but Rogan was using his bed. Lyntael switched hands, looking every bit as put out about the mess as Eric felt, though from a different direction, he suspected.

“If I stay here, I'll have failed Rogan again, and I'll have failed you. I've messed up enough already. I know you're worried for me, Eric, but, if you give me another chance, I promise I'll be more careful.”
“You've never failed anyone, Lyntael, at least not as far as I'm concerned. It's Rogan that I don't feel comfortable giving another chance to, not you.”
“But if you're cutting him off, then he's going to need someone to be there for him, now more than ever before, right?” Eric winced, but nodded.
“Yes, he will. I really hope that he finds someone to be that person for him, someone who can get inside his mask and share the dangers he goes through with him; truly, I do Lyntael... but it doesn't need to be you, not if you'd be happier staying here.” The girl covered her face with both hands, clearly torn. She stood, pacing, and jumped back to the coffee table so that she could do so on more stable terrain.

“I would, Eric, you know I would... he doesn't treat me like a person at all, and always asks me to do things I'm not comfortable with doing, and you know that most of what he does is really illegal, and I have to end up helping him with it, and I really don't like that, but... but I'd miss him, too, and I'd worry about him, and....” She made a helpless gesture with both hands, then vocalised her frustration for a moment as well. “And... Arghh... why do you two have to fight like this? If the whole mess was because of me can't you both just see that I'm here and I'm me, and I'm fine, and I can tell you both that it's all forgiven, and let that be that?” She looked up to Eric, pleading, but another voice from the far door made her spin about.

“No, Lyntael. It isn't that simple, and Eric is well within his rights to speak to me as he has.” Rogan was standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame. He had been out for a couple of hours, no more, and Eric had been expecting him to sleep through most of the morning, but he looked more rested than he had, at least. The girl on the tabletop brightened and ran across to the nearest edge to wave to him.

“Rogan! You're up! Are you feeling better now?” He began to nod, but then something happened that Eric hadn't been expecting at all. His features relaxed and he shook his head instead.
“No. No I'm not, Lyntael. Truthfully, I'm not doing very well at all, but at least I'm not about to fall down again, and for now that will have to be enough.” He crossed the room to stand in front of Eric, then bowed his head, touching his forehead briefly with one hand.

“Thank you, Eric. I'm sorry to be a burden, on top of everything. It was a kindness you didn't need to extend, and I'm grateful.” His words were quiet and sombre, and Eric could feel Lyntael's eyes flicking back and forth between them, probably hoping for some sort of reconciliation. He couldn't find words of his own immediately, but Rogan seemed to take his silence as an answer. He glanced down towards Lyntael, then dropped to one knee to be closer to her level.

“This is goodbye, Lyntael. I'm sorry, for everything. I know Eric will be far better to you than I ever was.” The little girl was shaking her head at him, but the moment seemed to have robbed her of articulation as surely as it had Eric. Rogan stood again and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

“I'm sorry I wasn't the brother you deserved to have. You won't ever have to see me again, if you don't want to, but if you ever need me, Eric, the light will always be on. You've always known how to find me.” He paused, looking down. “I don't know if I could ever forgive what I've done, but you were always the better of us. Maybe, when the night ends, you could pull some thyme for me as well?” Eric could feel tears pricking at his eyes again, but he was more surprised to see open tracks making their way down Rogan's cheeks. He was still maintaining his composure, true, but he wasn't fighting them back either.

“You're a bastard, Rogan, you know that? A right bastard.” His voice was rough, a mirror of the tearful sensation behind his eyes. No mater how deserved and necessary it was, he was still severing all ties with the closest family member he had, and it wasn't easy. The extended goodbye was only making it worse now, for both of them. “I wish... I just wish I could tell whether that's you being sincere, or whether you're just talking through another facade, saying the things you think will make the best impression. I don't know any more, Rogan, and I can't tell. I wish I could.” The man across from him broke eyes and looked away.
“So do I. Goodbye Eric.”

He turned to walk for the door, and Lyntael's rapid glances back and forth between them grew more desperate. When he reached for the handle, she dashed to the corner nearest him and shouted.
“Rogan... Rogan, wait! Please!” Eric winced to hear the strain in her voice. Rogan slowed, but he still turned the handle and opened the door. The little girl looked back up at him, clearly desperate now.

“Eric, please! You said... you said I don't need to be that person, that it doesn't need to be my place. You're right! It doesn't need to be me, and I don't want to leave you, Eric, but I love him too, and I want to be that person for him. I want it, Eric! It's my choice!” The rise in her heart rate had left her breathing hard after her hurried words, and she was panting as she looked up at him, eyes pleading. Eric let out the breath he'd unconsciously held, and felt his form slump. Choice was what it came down to, in the end, and if it was her choice alone, he couldn't stop her. Rogan had hesitated, standing in the open doorway while the mid-morning rain poured outside. A crack of lightning lit the door frame and thunder rolled.

“If that is what you truly want, Lyntael. But listen; you come first, alright. You stay safe, and come home every now and then, let me know you're well. You come first.” She nodded and he glanced up to where the other man waited by the door. “Rogan... you forgot your PET.” For a moment he thought that he might still refuse to take it, but then he returned to the table. As Rogan reached down for the device, slipping it into his coat pocket, Eric put one hand out towards Lyntael, and she ran over to wrap her arms about part of his hand and hug him tightly, as best she was able.
“Thank you, Eric! Thank you! I love you! I'll visit soon, I promise!” He stood with her, the girl swinging herself up onto the back of his hand and turning back to wave once more as he held her small hologram out towards Rogan. To his credit, the other accepted her with one hand and let her run to his shoulder, rather than simply recalling her. The storm pealed again, fiercer, as Rogan turned and stepped through the door. Eric watched him go; a cold man in a dark coat, disappearing into the heavy rain, with one tiny speck of light and joy clinging tight to his collar.

----------
((To => Another cheap hotel))

Eric still had to run all the tests and diagnostics he needed to. As he did, Lyntael ambled about the work space, playing amongst the equipment as she told him about the friends she'd met, and stories about some of the more interesting or amusing things she'd done. Rogan sat in the corner, in silence, listening. She had all, or most perhaps, of her memories... she knew them, remembered her friends, thought of all of those memories as hers, and yet... He couldn't tell himself that she was the same girl and believe it. Many of her stories surprised him, not least because he wasn't aware of when or how she'd actually slipped away to do them. How much had existed of that girl's life, that he'd never let himself know? Eric was smiling, trying as hard as he could to be happy for the Lyntael in front of him... He was happy for her, in fact; Eric had never hidden his emotions very deeply, or lied about them. It also meant that Rogan could see how hard it was for him to keep his grief hidden. Lyntael knew too, it seemed, but she wasn't pushing.

When the last check was finished, Eric stood and returned to stand in front of him, and Rogan stood as well. Lyntael had wandered across the table top to stand near them as well, but Eric glanced down at her.

“Lyntael, it's been a strenuous... ugh... morning for you...” Sure enough, light was now creeping into the space from the single high window. “Why don't you try to have a nap. I need to talk to Rogan for a while anyway. The young girl put a hand to her mouth for a moment.
“Oh, got it. Secret sibling business. Alright, I'll go have a lie down then.” She ran quickly back to the PET and her hologram faded. When Eric looked back, his expression was hard. A silence stretched for several seconds as they both faced what had to be said next. Eventually Eric spoke.

“It's time for you to leave, Rogan. I want you out of my house, and if I ever see you again it will be too soon. Do you understand me?” He had known it was coming. A part of him had hoped that, after Lyntael was restored, the time with her would soften his brother's anger... but that time had only made him more sure of the inevitable. As it was, the words made his hands tremble and he felt short of breath. The pain in his chest felt like it was going to make his legs buckle. The weight of everything else pressing in on him in a way he couldn't just put aside any more was making him feel faint and disconnected.
“Eric...” His voice wavered, unsteady, but Eric cut him off.
“I meant what I said!” Firm as he was being, the other man's voice shook with emotion as well. “You're dead to me, Rogan. I have no brother that I recognise, and I cannot stand the sight of you. The man who did this has no place in my life, now, nor ever again.” Rogan struggled to keep his face straight as his forced composure eroded; Eric was doing the same, with far less practice, but through it he took a breath and went on.

“If one day, long from now, a man should come to my door, wearing your face, and bearing your name, and yet being a different person to the man that you are, then perhaps I will be able to welcome him beneath my roof... but never the man who caused this. Never the man who did this. So go. Now.” Rogan had no words to answer with; no answer at all but to nod and accept, in silence. He could feel a tremble in his muscles; a drained weakness all over his body that made climbing the stairs drag at him harder than scaling a mountain. He grit his teeth as one hand held hard to the banister. Halfway down the main hall, he realised that the long, deep breaths he was taking were as laboured as they were because he was instinctively holding himself back from weeping. His hand shook on the door handle, unable to turn it for many moments. Walking out this door was a finality. Every bit as dramatic as when they'd left home, every bit as irreversible. It was no longer his choice to make. Eric wanted him gone, and it was no-one's fault but his own.

The rain had grown harder. Outside, it began to soak his clothes again, the wind blowing drops into his face and down his neck, and for the first time in many years, Rogan truly felt it; icy cold and sharp as hail. He made it halfway down the front path before the last vestiges of his mask shattered and the tears overwhelmed him. His knees gave out and he felt the impact as they hit the paved ground, his body shaking as it was wracked with helpless, distraught cries. Gasps for breath only led to further pained, ragged shouts; hot tears lost amidst the freezing rain; wrath and self-loathing, despair, loss, guilt and shame, and all of it too much, until the outpouring sapped the last of his strength and he collapsed fully on the path. The last thing he heard, amidst the heavy thrum of the falling rain, was the door behind him opening again.

It was almost twenty after three in the morning, with the rain hammering down outside still, when Rogan heard footsteps on the stairs again. He was staring blankly at the tabletop in front of him, thoughts long since exhausted in the now dark room. His jaw had bruised up badly, and his side and leg ached, but they were a distant awareness, shut out and far away from his consciousness. Somewhere during the night he had slept for a few hours, but his body was so used to the fitful, snatched moments that it wouldn't allow him any more than that. That was what he told himself, at least. When Eric reached the top of the stairs, Rogan looked up. The lights from below illuminated the other man, and even in that poor half-light it was easy to see how worn he was. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, but Rogan could tell it wasn't from tiredness. He stood, facing his brother's words as though it were a firing squad.

“Come with me. You will watch this.” Eric's voice was thick, barely containing his emotion, and Rogan knew with a cold sensation that the news wasn't what either of them hoped for. He nodded without a word and followed his brother back down the stairs.

The basement was exactly as he remembered it being the last time he'd been there; banks of computers and other hardware filling the walls and covering much of the workspace, and barely enough room to walk around it all. In the middle of the central bench, connected to a number of other devices, the PET rested with the small hologram standing on the screen. She still wore the same calm, passive expression as when he'd reactivated her, and though her gaze tilted up to look as the brothers returned, no other expression met them. Seeing her so tugged uncomfortably at something inside Rogan; the same sense of horrible wrongness that had driven him here, and it began to strike home with him exactly what it must be like for Eric. The other man scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“I've done everything I can, tried every method I know... but I can't bring her back. There's nothing to bring back.” He swallowed, trying to steady the tremor in his voice. “She's just not there.” His head dropped as he shook it. “There are traces. A person once inhabited this shell... but traces are just that. There's not enough.” His voice broke again and he didn't raise his head. His shoulders lurched. On the table, Lyntael tilted hers just slightly.

“Eric, you're crying again. Is there nothing I can do?” As expected, her voice was soft and delicate, concerned, but passive. Eric shook his head then pressed both hands to his face for a few moments.

“No Lyntael, this is not your fault. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Eric.” She inclined her head as she confirmed, but did no more. Rogan glanced between the tiny navi and his brother, not quite following.

“What's going to happen?” Why did he feel so uncomfortable asking that? Eric turned away from him, checking various screens and making sure all of the systems in the room were 'ready', he supposed, but mostly, Rogan could tell it was so he didn't have to look at him as he answered.

“The only thing I can do, now. The only thing that's left.” Rogan waited, his discomfort growing to a mounting uneasy feeling, and Eric continued again after a few moments. “Maybe you care, maybe you don't, Rogan, but I need you to understand what this is. So, if you finally want to know what's going to happen now... good. Then listen.” He went on, speaking in short phrases, between difficult breaths.

“Sunseed isn't just a personality generator. It draws on every variable, every possible piece of data it can find within its scope, and it weaves potential.” He worked slowly as he spoke, moving around the room and never meeting Rogan's eyes, leaving the other man out of place and outcast at the bottom of the stairs. “A lot of advanced navigators begin to develop on their own, eventually. Enough time, the right circumstances... the right amounts of love and care, and you can end up with a navi that goes far beyond their code, beyond any explanation we have. But... even the most advanced and well developed, the most uniquely personable navis... they still retain that core 'otherness'; that feeling of being a program; a NetNavi.”

“It affects them in many ways; their views on being hurt and harmed, on danger and violence... a plethora of other things as well... so that even the most personable are... well... the result is they're more like fey. They can't shed it because it has been a part of their nature for all that time that they've been developing. I made Sunseed to surpasses that hurdle. It acts in the moment, and... there's just no way of knowing, truly, how it will affect the navi. You can aid and influence it by controlling some of the external variables; you can guide it, a little bit, but...” There was a pause as he hesitated, holding onto a small switch long after he'd flipped it over, and staring at the panel it was on without really seeing.

“Like any parent, and any child, you have to do your best, the best you can, but a lot of it is guess-work. Even the most certain elements, run the same way twice, will come up differently.” Normally, Rogan would have cut his brother off by now, and told him to reach the point faster, but this time he held his tongue. There was a gnawing sense of wrongness and dread in the pit of his stomach, like he was watching something horrible unfolding.

“When Sunseed blossoms the potentials of its weaving into the intricacies of growth that lead to a person; that... you can't trace that, you can't replicate it, you can't even follow it with any real accuracy. It gets too complex, too interwoven to even think about unpicking. In the end, the navi just... is... who they are, whole and complete... you can't duck in and change an aspect of their personality any more than you can safely do it to a human brain.” Eric had run out of things to check and he stood with his back to Rogan, fingers clenching and flexing. He took several slow breaths, swallowing in between.

“So... the only thing I can do now, Rogan, is to give the girl standing here with us a fresh start and a new chance at life... as a new person. The Lyntael you knew, if you knew her at all; the Lyntael I welcomed into the world and loved... she's dead, Rogan. She died, because I trusted you.” He saw Eric's hands clench into tight fists behind his back and hold until his knuckles went white. “Because I trusted that somehow, you still had more of your heart left than you ended up having. So that's why you need to see this, and maybe you'll finally understand what it is you've destroyed. Now Watch.”

A part of Rogan wanted to leap up and defend himself, but it found nothing to say. There were no smooth words or casual come backs; no clinical rationality to counter Eric's accusation. To hear his brother talk to him like this, to hear him say the things he had, was a blow that felt like it was tearing a hole in him. Of their whole family, Eric was the only one he'd ever felt close to. Between them, all the politics and expectations had never applied, and when they'd left that whole mess; run away really, it had been together, and with fewer regrets than either of them had expected.

Between the two of them, Eric had always been the more forgiving. While he resented, loathed, or downright despised most of his other family members, Eric had avoided speaking harshly of them, and had always been able to accept and understand the things they did or said, with forgiveness, even if he didn't agree. Now... now he couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. So, rather than talk back, he clenched his hands behind his back, squared his jaw and accepted it. It was no use trying to hide his pain; Eric knew him too well, but he did his best. There was a faint growl from Eric.

“Eyes up, man! You will watch! You owe it to her.” The harshness of his brother's voice surprised him, but it also made him realise he'd turned his gaze away, unconsciously, from the hologram on the table. He focused on her again. She was looking between them with a soft expression of concern. Eric nodded then closed his eyes and smoothed his features. He crouched down to the level of the table to look at the girl closely. She focused on him and smiled.

“I've told you this before, Lyntael, but now I'll tell you again. It's important, and I never want you to forget it. Know it, all the way through the core of your being, and never doubt it. You are loved, Lyntael. Always. No matter where you go, or what your life brings, you have always been loved, and you will always be loved.” When she nodded, he reached out to gently brush one fingertip through her hair and over her head, then stepped back.

“Lyntael.exe. Please ready Sunseed. My name is Eric O'Conaill. Voice Match.” His voice broke and thickened as he spoke, and he had to take a few breaths and repeat the cue before the lock authorised. When it did, she smiled and nodded as she responded.

“Sunseed is prepared and prioritised. All systems are online and listening.”

“One day we will all go together. One day the night will end. Sunseed: Bloom.”

Rogan flinched as Eric spoke the words of the final command, but the signs of the program starting dashed the bad memory from his mind. The tiny girl's eyes had remained calm for a moment while the room sprang to life and the sheer weight of processing power was spread out, but now she arched up, gasping while her limbs flexed and tightened. A flood of electrical energy began to roll off her in waves, bursting from the spikes of her hair and showering freely from her skin, before getting siphoned away again just as quickly into each of her strikers. Her tremors reached a peak as she dropped to her knees, hands out to the sides and fists clenched tight while she stared upwards at nothing, panting hard. A moment later, the room tapered into silence again and the girl's body relaxed.

Rogan watched her gasping for air, knees spread wide for balance and her arms hanging limp as she recovered. He was struck again, harder this time, by the heavy sense of dread, deep in his gut. It had been the only option. Nobody loved this girl more than Eric; it had to be the right thing to do, didn't it? A part of his brain was still reassuring itself with the simple concept of overwriting a file, but a deeper current was turning that mental image back into murder, in a way he couldn't quiet. The young girl on the worktop opened her eyes and looked up, directly into his as she panted.

As Eric before him had seen the first time, Rogan watched expressions of wonder and amazement play across her face and her eyes widen as new sets of awareness and sensations sparked, grew, blossomed, expanded, faded away and gave rise to more, and he found that he couldn't have looked away if he tried.

He had always compared human or not human, synonymous with his definition of a person, but as he watched he could see how arbitrary that wall really was; no amount of logical denial could counter the truth that what he was seeing here were the experiences of a person, not a thing. A person, just as it had been the first time. The first time, for a person that he had allowed to be destroyed. The thought struck through him in a way that made the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in his chest slice open into physical pain and he had to fight to keep his hands at his side, rather than reaching to his breast. At last she drew one more deep breath and held it, closing her eyes again, then bounced up to her feet, grinning brightly enough to set the distraught mood of the room completely at odds.

“Oh... Oh, wow. Ahh...” Her voice was animate again, rather than the passive monotone from before, but there was something different about it as well. It was the same voice, Lyntael's voice, but delivered... just a little bit differently. She was looking up at him, still grinning and bouncing on her toes. Had she ever looked at him and been that happy before? The question was another knife where he didn't need any more. “Wow... I feel... I feel... What am I feeling? It's strange. Like... Like I've been dreaming. Asleep, and muffled, and... and now I'm awake. That's what it's like. Rogan! Eric! Wait... wait...” She turned about, looking over the room, then looked back to the brothers. Her eyes settled this time first on Rogan's worn and haggard features, and bruised jaw, then on Eric's red-eyes and tear-marked face. Her smile fell into a look of uncertainty, then distress.

“Eric... you're really upset. You were crying, and you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and I remember that I didn't understand! What... What happened? How did I get here? Eric, Rogan... what's wrong?” Lyntael would never have spent so much time thinking out loud, and she would have been far more hesitant and shy to ask her questions. Rogan tried to crush the thought with every ounce of willpower he could muster. “I remember... I remember there was a mission. It was important, too. And then...” She pouted softly and shook her head. “It gets all fuzzy. I can't remember properly. I don't like not remembering. Rogan, what happened? Did it... go badly? Why can't I remember?” She didn't actually sound upset by the lack, more simply curious. She was more concerned about their mutual upset, that much was clear. He wasn't sure what to say to her, but Eric found words.

“It doesn't matter now, Lyntael. What matters is that you are here with us. Welcome back, I'm glad you're home.” For a wonder, he had managed to dry his eyes and clean himself up quickly, and he reached out again to brush the back of one finger against her hair. The girl giggled and nuzzled back at his finger.

“Aww, alright. I am really glad we came to visit though. I've missed you Eric! A lot! I love you Eric, I didn't really say it enough while I was staying here, but I do!” She reached both hands up to hug his fingertip and rub her cheek against it before looking to Rogan. She reached out one hand to point an almost scolding finger up at him. “And I love you, too, Rogan, even if you don't think I can! I should tell you more often. Maybe if I say it enough, you'll start believing me, hehehe!” She was grinning and bouncing on her toes again, swaying slightly. For Rogan, there really was no arguing that, similar as they were, this was a different girl to his Lyntael and the truth of it was slowly, painfully, gutting him. His Lyntael. The thought repeated itself. He could barely breathe through the pain in his chest. He managed to raise an eyebrow at her, feigning unconcern, but he doubted it was very convincing. He didn't know what to say. He didn't trust himself to try.