My lovelies, I think I've made a mistake. When I saw that you weren't behaving according to my plans, I got terribly upset, and then I'm afraid I did something rather rash. I apologize.

I feel absolutely embarrassed about my conduct. As my High Priestess explained to me, if I want something, instead of sulking, I should direct my energies towards more constructive ends!

Speaking of which, I have a little project underway for you right now. It'll take some time to pull together, but you may consider it an apology for that little fiasco. I really think you're going to like it once it's finished!

[ooc: This should have been up a day or two ago depending on what time zone you're in, so we also have to apologize! Nothing will be changing around the Garden, although your characters may on occasion notice the sound of hammering and construction work off in the distance, too faint to be sure about.]

[So, Daniella has been here for awhile. She's stayed quiet, just listening to the Vine and gathering information about her strange new surroundings, not approaching anyone (although she proves a bit hard to miss, being tall and beautiful and purple-haired) and not really caring about the Queen's plans. What does any of that matter to someone like her? Only three facts hold any real importance: this isn't Belli castle, she used to be dead and now she isn't, and there's been no sign of Fiona.

Today, she cooks nearby her chosen accommodations; a plain little house, a big pot of soup over an outdoor flame. In her own way, this is something of a rebellion: that building is not her home. It isn't where she belongs. Her purpose is not tied to it. So Daniella won't make her pointless, tasteless meals within it. There are various bird corpses scattered around, the small bodies crushed as if they had the life strangled out of them. If only they hadn't made the mistake of trying to help Daniella with her soup.....

Stir, stir. Stir the pot. The smell is strong yet slightly nausea-inducing as the wind carries it away. Oh, Fiona, where are you? You and your precious, precious essence of life- of woman. She needs it, the old jealousy rekindling, because it seems as if death was fleeting and Daniella must once more live only a half-full existence.

Eventually, the homunculus gestures at the Vine. She's been treating it well, having experience with plants, and it immediately produces a microphone. Daniella's voice is cool, calm, and yet unnervingly empty. Hollow, almost.]

....excuse me. I need to make a request. If anyone hears word about one Fiona Belli....please, say so. I am...her maid, and should be serving her.

[a long silence broken only by the muted clinking sound of her metal spoon against the insides of the pot.]

Ah....one more thing. [unseen, her mouth curves in a blank smile.] Have any of you....died? You don't have to answer this one, but it's...something to wonder about.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

[The words drift up from what appears to be a young girl lying amongst the flowers, garbed in the white gown of a new arrival. There's a brief pause when she finishes speaking; then, she stands and walks toward where her possessions have been laid out, no hesitation in her step. She's drawn to them by a nebulous sort of knowing, always aware of the location of her Idea Engine.]

[When said Idea Engine responds to her presence—by floating from the ground and hovering behind her, of course—she pays it no mind. That's what it was expected to do, after all. Instead, she turns her attention to the leotard and cloak-like garb folded neatly on the ground, and then—]

[riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip]

[—she simply tears the white dress down the middle, ripping it from her own body. She's naked underneath, but that doesn't seem to bother her at all as she dresses. When that's done, she speaks three simple words—]

Initiating combat mode.

[—and the Idea Engine behind her seems to break apart, separating into a million little pieces that float in the air, circling her for a moment, before snapping together to form what appears to be a suit of armor. Then, she speaks again.]

Verifying location... Verifying... Verifying... Location cannot be verified. Analyzing situation... Analyzing... Situation undetermined. Attempting to establish communications link... Unable to establish connection. Engaging automatic mode...

[Action]

[Tsukasa has been busy the last few days, having been out of practice from the lull of peace that being in the garden she has been making use of the magic afforded to her by a series of very strange circumstances. Her routine at the moment consists of playing with the elements, with ribbons of fire and wind dancing around the blue haired teen as she concentrates within the spiral of energy, lest she loose it and burn herself badly. 

After a period of time, the elemental ribbons die down, returning to the ether from which they had been summoned. Her training on hold for the moment, Tsukasa plops herself down upon the grass and stares at the rolling clouds of a summer afternoon for a moment while wiping heat spawned sweat from her forehead. She then leaves her seated position to speak to someone via a nearby mirror.]
( [Private to Souji] )