[A dwarf pops awake in the middle of the Gardens, looking around, a bit dazed. Ugh, what a girly, flowery place this is. Not her style at all. Definitely something the humans and elves would enjoy more. She stands up, snorts a bit, sneezing. As she walks around, she begins to think out loud.]

Yuck! Where am I? Looks like I was sleepwalking or something. Eh, doesn't matter, I'm at least far away from that stupid kingdom now. They wouldn't know a good deal if it bit them in the ass. At least this place is full of people! Maybe they'll go for a bargain! It wouldn't hurt to try! Ah ha ha ha!

[Not one to waste an opportunity to make a quick buck, she climbs up on a nearby rock, getting a better vantage point. In her right arm is a huge red battleaxe, which she swings around, pointing it at whomever walks by while shouting. This includes you. She doesn't know she's also being recorded, though if she did, she wouldn't say no to the free advertising.]

Hey! You! Yes you! The people of this garden! Have you ever laid eyes on Dwarven steel before? I bet not! This battleaxe is made form the purest refined ores from my home, the Steel Mountain! It's not for sale, but I could make you something custom built for you! Only five hundred gold, and I'll even throw in a buckler for half off! What do you say? This deal won't last long!

[Have a very angry looking female in full, if a bit battered in spots, armor.  She's practically growling the words out, having let the Meta's taunting fester for a little too long as it is]

I know you people said this place is supposed to be peaceful. I'm already not seeing it. Especially with the Meta here.

[Holding he thumb and index fingers up do close that they're practically touching.] I'm honestly this close to hunting it down to strangle it after everything that monster has done.

Any other agent? I could handle putting up with. That one needs to die. Again.

Give me a good reason why I shouldn't try to make it happen.

[Oh god things are being entirely too awkward for comfort lately. Time to sneak out to the reconstruction of the ruins she made a few months ago. What better place to hide out from potentially awkward conversations than a big empty complex of stone buildings that probably nobody has bothered with?]

[Well, OK, there's also the issue of getting there, but surely she is not going to run into anyone on the way! Jessica is totally sneaky and not at all completely obvious to anyone who is paying the least bit of attention!]

[The feed clicks on. Mami's sitting against a tree on the outskirts of the Gardens, knees tucked against her chest and arms loosely wrapped around them. The camera angle is awkward, showing as it does only her back and a partial view of her side; still, it's enough to see the corners of those gold eyes and how red they are from crying.

From somewhere offscreen, a shadow falls. The shape is vague enough to make identifying any distinguishing characteristics impossible, save two; the person is an adult, and female. There's a low sound from a womanly throat, the actual words and tone melting into a carrying but unintelligible hum.

Judging by the sudden tightening of Mami's shoulders, though, it's obvious that she can at least understand every word. Her voice is quiet, already defeated.]

I told you, I never thought that it'd happen so fast like that. I didn't have a chance to think. It wasn't on purpose- I swear it wasn't.

[She's cut off by a sudden, sharp hum. Her lower lip trembles slightly.]

....how can you say that? I never wanted you or Father to- to die. I love both of you so much, and I've missed you, and.....of course I regret it. I'd give anything to do it over, to change my wish. I've tried to atone for my mistake, I've tried-

[The shadow hums again, the sound carrying an extra note of anger, an added barb of contempt.]

Useless and disgusting....? [a long, pained silence, and something inside Mami seems to crumble; she presses her face into her knees.] I know I am. I know. I'm sorry. I'm so selfish....you have every right to be so upset with me.

[Another hum from the shadow- needling, cruel.]

You don't have to worry about me forgetting that. I promise I won't.

I promise.

[The Vine, apparently satisfied, ends the feed and withdraws.]

((OOC: Red is Poland))

[The vine clicks on after a moment, all on its own.]

[Lithuania is sitting near a river at the edge of the gardens, and someone else is sitting next to her. She hasn't been in the gardens before, but the other nations will recognize this as Poland--and in Lithuania's time, they're two halves of one Commonwealth.

Get closer, though, and it doesn't seem like the conversation is going very well.]

Well, duh, I mean why would you get along alright here? It's a romance garden full of girls, right? I mean, you totally fail at romance. Like, epically. Like, to a sad degree of epic.

Eh? L-Lenkija...

Poland, Poland! Or Polska. That language is for peasants.

[For her part, Lithuania manages to look affronted at this direct statement.] It's my language!

It's a stupid language and the nobles speak mine, so get with the program. Anyway, quit changing the subject. The point is if you're not, like, in the actual process of gutting someone like a fish, you're totally out of your element. You're like some kind of wild country-animal thing.

[Lithuania looks incredibly hurt by this--in fact it's the greatest display of emotion that isn't anger that she's shown in the Gardens.]

You know I'm right. I, like, always am, especially about you. [She smiles.] You need me, right? Don't even say anything 'cause you totally do and we both know it. You'd be just another tiny little country, you wouldn't be cool at all.

[Lithuania draws her knees up to her chin and stares at the water.]

[Rico is usually polite enough to take her smoke-breaks out to the edge of the Garden, rather than in her apartment. A simple, common courtesy. This day, though, she's very much regretting that. Out of the brush comes a Latina woman, portly, in her forties. Standing out almost immediately, though, is the fact that her left eye has been obliterated by a bullet hole, the wound gaping and red. More blood splatters down her pale blue sundress.

On seeing her, the cigarette tumbles from Rico's lips.]

Mama?

Rica.

[The woman steps forward, her face a ghastly rictus of a smile. Streaked with blood and surrounded by that grotesque wound, there's no joy to it, no life.]

What the...what the fuck...

It should have been you, my little Rica. He was so mad because of you.

[For the first time in years, there are tears flecking Rico's eyes, bitter and angry but still tears. Her face is a war of old wounds clashing with furious disbelief. Because how could this be true? Her mother has been dead for ten years. She's gone face to face with some weird shit in her day, but nothing brings back the dead. Not like this.]

I took the bullet for you. It should have gone in your pretty little head, Rica, but he shot me instead, and then himself. I did so you could live, and for what?

Shut up. [She barely croaks out the words. Her throat is closing up.]

So you could live your dirty little life. So you could scratch and claw like an animal. Violent. Miserable. Filthy.

Shut up, shut up, shut up...

You're worthless. He should have killed you. I should have helped.

Shut up!. [Her voice cracks when she screams, tears suddenly pouring down her cheeks. This is pain, and anger, raw and pure. Those of you who know Rico will have seen nothing like this in her. But the woman just smiles, even as she slowly steps back into the darkness.]

I'll be waiting for you, Frederica.

[She disappears,and Rico is left standing there, panting, snarling, clenching her fists impotently in the air. Her breaths start to come faster, harder, in pants that turn into desperate, clawing sobs. They voice their way out of her chest, into the air, and she reaches up to clutch at her own head before dropping to her knees. Her fist slams against the ground once, then again, then a third time, churning up the ground and leaving a deep depression in her wake.

It's that image of her, kneeling in the grass and sobbing, that the Vine blinks off to.]

[Epsilon is seated on one of the benches in her memorial garden, which is near the edge of the Gardens. Standing before her is a very tall, muscular woman with short, blonde hair, dressed simply in pants and a sleeveless t-shirt. She appears human, but if someone were to study her very closely, they might realize that she is not breathing, and she does not blink. The two women are too preoccupied with each other to realize the Vine is recording them.

At first, nothing seems to be overtly wrong. Epsilon appears quite calm. Then the taller woman speaks, her voice low.]

There's nothing left now.

[Epsilon's eyes widen, but she holds the woman's gaze.] You mean--everyone?

There was no one to protect them, after you were gone.

I-- [As the full meaning of this sinks in, Epsilon's calm suddenly breaks, and she buries her head in her hands.]

[The other woman continues to speak, implacably.] You watched it happening, and you were too weak to act. It's your fault.

[Epsilon looks up again, and although her expression is as pained and twisted as if she's been crying, there are no actual tears on her face.] I accept responsibility for my choice.

For all their deaths?

[Though Epsilon cannot answer this question verbally, she nods. Another few moments pass before she can speak again, her voice edged with desperation. She doesn't want to be alone. In spite of the woman's anger, Epsilon knows her--though the robot she remembers was male in form. Nonetheless, this person is a part of her world, something that remains.] Stay with me, Heracles.

With a weak little traitor like you?

[Epsilon nods again.] Yes.

[After a hesitation, the woman snorts.] All right. There's nowhere else I could go, now. I'll stay with you, to remind you. You shouldn't be allowed any peace after what you've done. What you didn't do. [Heracles sits beside her on the bench.]

[Epsilon does not object. She's aware that this woman might not be real, could well be another of the Gardens' illusions. Heracles died before she herself did; how would Heracles know what had happened after? Yet Epsilon has no way to contradict her words. It is all too possible that they could be true. She has feared that possibility since arriving here. She has no knowledge of what happened after she was destroyed. Her children, dead. Everyone dead. She can see the flowers all around her, so bright and tall, but they seem so far away.]

[So, here's Mi-na. The Vine has caught her at the tail end of dressing, meaning she's currently yanking on her boots. But don't worry about having missed anything, perverts, her outfit still shows off dat thigh. She's muttering to herself as she does so, loud enough for the words to be heard clearly.]

Of all the times for something like this to happen... I'm gonna give that Queen a piece of my mind!

[She stands abruptly, gathering up something from the ground as she does so. The object had been obscured by the grass, but its identity is quickly revealed: a brightly colored wol-do. From the way she holds it, it's obvious she knows how to handle it with some level of competence. She takes a step forward, presumably to make her way out of the clearing, but then something catches her eye—probably some light reflecting off the mirror. She pauses for a moment, a puzzled expression crossing her face, then steps toward the Vine instead. Stopping directly in front of it, she leans in close, one hand on her hip while she frowns faintly.]

...A mirror?


((ooc: Yes, so, I lied about my date of return. I decided I wanted to get Mi-na's intro out of the way before the event got into full swing, so here we are.))