010: We are the robots

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> "Drone!" Blackbird addresses the little box creature inside the exhibit. "Relate last assignment." The modron fiddles with a tiny little clockwork version of itself as it speaks, packing gears into a square shell and adding a windup crank. It sets this on the ground, winds the crank; there is a horrible sound of metal teeth wrenching and the creation sputters and falls on its side. "Last assignment: experimental outpost beta. Location: Arcadia, Hutchfield Overlook. Duties: clean, maintain and repair inactive units."
<Steph> "Uh... Drone! What's an experimental outpost beta for?" asks Stephanie, peering at it.
<El-Cideon> "This unit was not privy to the mission statement," it says, turning to Stephanie. It sounds...disappointed? There's some kind of inflection there where there wasn't before.
<Steph> "Well, you were there, right? So figure it out. What happened there?"
<El-Cideon> It stops fiddling with its failed creation, seems to slump in place. "I attended to my assigned tasks with diligence and skill. Successive months passed with appropriate predictability. An accident occurred in one of the other wards. I was not involved. I heard explosions, architectural collapse, noises indicative of personal damage. It became known that one of the units had rebelled and was forcibly suppressed. I was tasked with repairing the survivors."
<Julia> "Was it some sort of... individuality virus?" Julia asks, trying to grasp what's going on with this modron.
<Franceska> "Rebelled?" Franceska repeats, glancing at Blackbird. "It seems that individuality amongst them is far more spread than you inferred."
<El-Cideon> "They have methods of preventing this," Blackbird adds quietly.
<El-Cideon> "Cause of rebellion unknown," the modron replies to Julia. It contemplates this a moment and then corrects itself: "Cause of initial rebellion unknown."
<Steph> "How'd the subsequent ones start?"
<El-Cideon> "Work progressed," it continues. "I labored to repair the damaged units. The experimental units were rendered inactive in order to facilitate repairs. The experimental units proved to be unstable: one woke whilst I worked upon it. It grasped me by the arm and looked upon me." There's a click and whir as it blinks. "I do not properly understand the gesture. I have witnessed similar occurrences between other organisms. Speculation: request for support? Propitiation? Expression of solidarity? It spoke to me."
<Julia> "It may have thought it was dying and wanted to share last words?" Julia suggests.
<El-Cideon> "It asked why it was made to suffer. I was not tasked with this knowledge."
<Franceska> "Living is suffering?" Franceska muses.
<Steph> "It was trying to ask you for help," replies Stephanie. "It was desperate, so it turned to you, one of its own kind for an answer."
<El-Cideon> "That's an awfully bleak outlook," Marina says to Franceska.
<Franceska> "It is?"
<Steph> "It is."
<Franceska> "I suppose living has little to do with it," Franceska muses upon thinking it over. "You do not stop suffering when you die and go to an afterlife, do you?"
<El-Cideon> "My superior appeared and subdued the experimental unit," the modron says. "It became uncomfortable that I could not formulate a response to the question which I was posed. My task was to ensure the wellbeing of the units under my care. Could I be completing my duties properly if my charges themselves professed otherwise?"
<El-Cideon> "That depends on which afterlife it is," Rosemund points out.
<Steph> "Only if you go to hell! And you ain't quite that bad," replies Steph, cheerily, before turning back to the modron. "Hey, so let's suppose you weren't completing your duties properly. How do you respond to that?"
* Franceska gives Stephanie and Rosemund a dubious look. Horrible endless torture or endless elves and dickish fey, the choice is terrible either way.
<El-Cideon> "It would be necessary to modify my behavior in order to accommodate the unexpected circumstances," it says.
<Steph> "So did you do that?"
<El-Cideon> "I woke the experimental unit and questioned it to determine in which way I was unsatisfactorily completing my assigned duties," it says. "The experimental unit informed me that it did not wish to be an experimental unit."
<Steph> "Then what did you do?"
<El-Cideon> "I woke the others and made similar inquiries."
<Steph> "Did you get the same answer?"
<El-Cideon> It's silent for a long moment. "My superior returned before I could make an extensive assessment. There were hostilities. The experimental units engaged the standard units."
<Steph> "Who won?"
<El-Cideon> "Chaos ensued," it continues. "Destruction was wrought upon the experimental outpost. Reinforcements arrived. Rebellion was suppressed. All perished. I was tasked with disposing of the nonfunctional units. When this task was completed I refused further tasks."
<Steph> "Why is that?"
<Franceska> "Because it clearly added to its workload?"
* Franceska turns towards the modron. "In cases of exploitation such as this, you should just sue your superiors."
* Julia covers her mouth to try and stifle a laugh at Franceska's sensible suggestion.
<El-Cideon> "I had failed in my assigned duties. Did I not carefully follow my instructions? Was there necessary detail that I was not provided? The latter query prompts suggestion of fallibility amongst superior units. This is unacceptable. The logical conclusion was that I am a flawed unit. Further tasks would necessarily lead to further disasters. I left the outpost to mitigate this possibility. I am seeking to understand the nature of my malfunction."
<Franceska> "Well, walking out on the job hurts your case, but we might still be able to come up with something...." Franceska mutters to herself, thinking about it.
<El-Cideon> It picks up a humanoid gear construct, twists the crank on its back. The limbs jerk spasmodically. The modron drops it in evident frustration. "Why can I not make them function?"
<Steph> "That's not logical," snorts Stephanie. "Nothing's perfect!"
<Julia> "You'd need to bind a spirit to it," Julia suggests helpfully, "Like an elemental to make a golem. Or if it's made out of actual modron parts maybe negative energy could make a functional undead? I'm not sure how it works in your case..."
<El-Cideon> "That ability has not been within my area of instruction," it says to Julia, sounding intrigued.
<El-Cideon> "Drone," Blackbird asks quietly, "what is the prescribed course of action for a malfunctioning unit?" The drone turns to him and dutifully reports: "The malfunctioning unit should present itself to its superiors for immediate repair."
<Julia> "Hmm, it would require some lengthy education before starting on the practicals..." Julia trails off as Blackbird starts on something else.
<Steph> "Hey, why didn't you do that, then?" asks Stephanie, tapping her fingers together.
<El-Cideon> "What is the proper method of repair for the development of individual will?" Blackbird continues. The modron promptly replies: "Termination."
<Julia> "That's a pretty poor repair."
<El-Cideon> "The individual's energy may be repurposed in production of a properly functioning unit," the modron replies, not sounding too enthusiastic about this perfectly efficient procedure.
<Steph> "Then I think you're pretty close to your answer," says Stephanie, suddenly amused.
<El-Cideon> It works the manipulators of two of its arms together, in what's alarmingly close in effect to a human wringing his hands. "I am not home. I cannot hear the common mind. My existence is not comfortable."
<Julia> "No... I imagine it's not," Julia says with a look over the small cage.
<Steph> "It's probably 'cos you've wised up! Just like those experimental units did, I'll bet," says Stephanie. "They found their individuality and wanted it to put it first. And you're doing the same thing. It's growth, growth!"
<Franceska> "So growth leads to suffering?"
<El-Cideon> "And there you have it," Blackbird says, quite ignoring Julia's comment. "What does one do when one fails at the very purpose for which one was designed? How many individuals truly have the will to find a new life for themselves? Could any of you find it within yourselves to forsake everything that had given your life form, I wonder?"
<El-Cideon> "Suffering builds character," Rosemund says dubiously. "Or at least that's an old saying..."
<Franceska> "I am quite certain it is wrong," Franceska tells Rosemund. At Blackbird's question, she frowns. "I might, if the alternative was being cannibalized to transfer my life to someone else."
<El-Cideon> "And yet that is a perfectly natural end to existence for one of its kind," Blackbird points out. "By all standards it had been taught."
<Julia> "It has been taught that yes, and yet it has learned something new that supercedes the old teachings. That could be laudable, or horrible, depending on the lessons learned," Julia argues.
<Steph> "Yeah! This kinda thing is only gonna happen if you've been taught a bunch of garbage from the start," replies Stephanie. "You're not flexible! You can't adapt to change if you have a rigid worldview like that."
<El-Cideon> "Learning that all one thought right and proper is wrong is a special kind of agony," Blackbird says. "Whatever the qualities of worldview in question, I would suggest that few minds can grapple with such an existence."
<Steph> "Well, yeah, if they're by themselves," replies Stephanie. "Times like that are when you need help, y'know?"
<El-Cideon> "That's right!" Rosemund points out. "You can always count on your friends."
<El-Cideon> "But who is it to rely upon?" Blackbird asks, gesturing to the hut. "Clearly not its own kind."
<Steph> "'course not, 'cos he comes from what's pretty much one of those dumbass cults," replies Stephanie, turning back to the modron. "What do you want, these days?" she asks. "You're trying to create life yourself, huh? Figure out how it all fits together?"
<El-Cideon> "This assessment is accurate," the modron confirms.
<Steph> "And you figure that's going to help you work out why you and your buddies went all haywire?" Stephanie hums for a moment. "But you don't really know how to build a modron from scratch, right? That's how you, um, get created?"
<Julia> "It's rather hard to do with just one person..." Julia mutters.
<El-Cideon> "I am not able to conceive of a more efficient plan than to mimic known methods," it says to Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> Julia's remark gets a restrained giggle out of Marina.
<Steph> "Nah, nah, that's not right! You gotta try new things!" replies Stephanie. "You gotta make variations, see what happens if you do something different- if you just keep doing the same thing you'll just keep getting the same result. So even if you make another modron from scratch, how's that gonna tell you anything you don't already know? Just doing the same thing over and over won't help."
<El-Cideon> It looks over the array of inanimate creations, responds, somewhat defensively, "I am accustomed to repetition."
<Franceska> Starting to get tired of this, Franceska asks Stephanie, "Are you going to try and procreate with the modron, or is this actually something other than an excruciatingly lengthy courtship?"
<Steph> Stephanie waves her off. "You can go look at the rest of them," she replies. "I wanna chat to this guy more. Try not to feel sympathy for the others or anything."
<El-Cideon> "She is just trying to encourage the poor creature!" Rosemund speaks up on Stephanie's behalf. "Wouldn't you be grateful for a kind word if you were, uh." She stops talking, with a sidelong glance at Blackbird.
<Franceska> "It feels more like teasing...."
* Julia looks at Blackbird as well, and then at Stephanie... but it feels impolite to ask if they should start killing and liberating now, in case anyone would rather wait a while...
<El-Cideon> "Well," Blackbird cuts in, "I wonder, since you've heard about the gallery already and our introduction is out of the way, whether there was any exhibit which interested you in particular?"
<Steph> "I am not," replies Stephanie, irritably, before turning back to the modron. "Look, you gotta try, okay? I mean, what have you got to lose? Not like you're in a hurry, right?"
<El-Cideon> "I have time," the modron confirms. Almost hopefully?
<Steph> "We're gonna be talking to the other, uh, people, so lemme know how it's going when we get back!" insists Stephanie, before stepping away.
<Franceska> "Perhaps you could show us your favorite?" Franceska asks Blackbird.
<El-Cideon> He laughs brilliantly. "Ah, favorites! Well, who could choose? I consider the gallery it's own amalgamate entity in a way, you know."
<Steph> "Hey, that's cheating!"
<Franceska> "Then, how about going in order?"
<El-Cideon> "Well enough," he concedes, walking to the next hut north:
<El-Cideon> This exhibit is more nicely furnished. There is a real bed, a four-poster with a fluffy mattress, a dresser, a small set of bookshelves with a modest collection cluttering up the shelves--it stops short of real luxury, but if you were to find yourself trapped within indefinitely, at least you would not be short on creature comforts. The curtain is still pulled halfway closed, obscuring sight of the northern half of the gallery for the inhabitant--who is presently sitting at the desk thumbing through a book but looks up at the approach of this apparent gang of gallery patrons. It's a human man, skin a deep brown like rich soil, short curly hair and beard fading to gray. Solid, workman-like face, dressed in plainspun tunic and breeches. He stands up from his desk and you can see his right arm is missing at the shoulder, while his left hand retains only the thumb and two smaller fingers.
<Julia> Thinking it best not to show any familiarity, Julia merely says, "Hello," without staring at his maimed limbs. She's seen worse, anyway.
<Steph> Stephanie clasps her hands behind her back. "Hello!"
* Franceska merely gives him a nod, staying next to Rosemund lest she do something rash.
<El-Cideon> "This one I think a cautionary example of heroic delusions of grandeur leading impressionable youth astray," Blackbird starts.
<El-Cideon> Franceska can see Rosemund is clearly upset about finding people unjustly imprisoned, but it's not her that proves to stand out. After scanning your group, the man in the cage is visibly interested in Marina.
<Steph> "Could you tell us your name, sir?" asks Stephanie, innocently.
<El-Cideon> "Marcus," he says, taking his eyes off Marina to address Stephanie. There's a palpable weariness about him as he speaks.
<El-Cideon> "Yes indeed, Marcus," Blackbird confirms, greeting him as cheerfully as though he were meeting his best friend for drinks at the village pub. "Share with us your tale of misfortune, will you not?"
<El-Cideon> Marcus completely ignores Blackbird. "Not his usual sort of visitors," he observes, addressing the outsiders.
<Julia> "You could call us thrill seekers, I suppose," Julia smiles brightly at him.
<Julia> "My name's Julia," she adds, for politeness's sake.
<Steph> Stephanie winks at him. "Thrills and spills, that's what we live for~"
<El-Cideon> "That so?" he says. Not unfriendly, but without much enthusiasm.
* Julia doesn't blame him. Hopefully they'll get along better when not seperated by bars.
<Franceska> "Well, this is awkward."
<Steph> "Why do people say that? It never makes things any less awkward," complains Stephanie. "Anyway, it sounds like you had some thrills of your own, back in the day?"
<El-Cideon> He turns his attention back to Marina. "You--you're Jen and Albert's girl, aren't you? Grown up plenty, but I remember that mountain of hair. They seemed like decent folk," he adds, with implied omission.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, yes," she says, taken aback. Visibly uncomfortable. "We're--we're just visiting," she manages.
<Franceska> "In the hopes of making it awkward for those responsible for the atmosphere as well, of course," Franceska illuminates Stephanie.
* Franceska nudges Rosemund, then. "Perhaps you should introduce yourself as well?" she suggests quietly.
<El-Cideon> "I had a busy few years," Marcus replies to Stephanie in aside. "And a lot more less busy ones."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, of course!" Rosemund says with a jolt. "Rosemund Whitefall, at your service, sir."
* Franceska peers at him to see if that rings a bell.
<Steph> Stephanie bites back yet another retort to throw at Franceska. "You actually get a lot of visitors?" she asks.
<El-Cideon> "Not so much since we moved," he says, adding, "and first time I had someone I knew come to gawk at me," with a flat and disappointed look at Marina.
<Franceska> "You should feel honored! Honored! Just think of the difficulties we had in getting here!"
<Julia> "It wasn't easy, but we toiled hard, and all for you," Julia agrees. "There's no need at all to be so bitter at seeing a friendly face, is there?"
<El-Cideon> "Sure you risked life and limb," he says drily.
<El-Cideon> "Oh really now!" Blackbird interjects. "Enough of this fussy insouciance, we have guests and you are being entirely unwelcoming!"
<El-Cideon> Marcus just looks at Blackbird for a long moment.
<Steph> "Oh, hey, I don't mind! I mean, it's all part of the, uh, tragedy, right? Turns a man sassy, you know?"
<El-Cideon> "Hah," he manages a dark laugh. "You're right, you know? You're right, this is just a little added spice to the mix."
* Franceska laughs herself. "Quite so! I can understand how someone might feel, going from traveling with his companions to being the only human around. And then, the humans who come to visit him are not quite the old friends he hoped for. But we simply cannot have everything in life."
<El-Cideon> "Well," he says, turning things over in his head, "I'm an old man and as you'd expect I've got a story's long enough to wear your knees out standing. You lot walked so far, maybe you want to rest up overnight? Hear it tomorrow? Don't want to wear out the gallery all in one go, right?" he adds with a nod for Blackbird's sensibilities.
<El-Cideon> "He does talk a great deal once he's acquired a certain amount of momentum," Blackbird acknowledges.
* Franceska glances at Blackbird to see how feasible that might be. His words just then do sound encouraging!
<El-Cideon> "Well of course we are prepared to accommodate overnight guests," Blackbird says.
<Franceska> "How wonderful!"
<Steph> "It does seem like we could be here a while. Mmm... I don't suppose we can impose?" asks Stephanie, turning to Blackbird for a moment. "Oh! Really? We'd be grateful!"
<El-Cideon> "Good, good," Marcus says. "Now, as I'm an old man, I'm going to rest up myself. Got a big day ahead of me, you know?" He turns away, draws the curtain over the window.
<Steph> "I don't suppose you ever let them out the cages?" asks Stephanie, peering at Blackbird. "For a walk, exercise, you know?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, of course!" he says. "There are periodic excursions, bathing in the pool, and so on. All monitored, of course! We couldn't have them wandering off and finding even more trouble than they've already lived through. They have a knack for that." He laughs. "In many ways it really is for their own good to be here."
<Steph> "How do you keep a rein on them during those times?" asks Stephanie, curiously.
<El-Cideon> "Naturally they aren't allowed to mingle," Blackbird says.
<Franceska> "Naturally," Franceska agrees, starting to walk slowly towards the next cage. "I'm wondering how periodic the excursions are. Cleanliness is quite important, after all."
<El-Cideon> Franceska sees the next cage is barely furnished, with little more than a pallet on the floor and a small cabinet decorating it. Its inhabitant presents an equally stark appearance: a tall woman, easily half a foot on any in your group, but slender, almost stretched out in appearance. Narrow features, pointed ears, skin yellow and dry as parchment, dull red hair wrangled into a simple braid. She is sitting crosslegged, and dressed in the basest ascetic's attire.
<El-Cideon> "No such thing would happen while we have guests, of course," Blackbird says, walking along. "The two crowds do not always mix well, you see."
<Franceska> The monk from Limbo, probably? Franceska wonders if she could fly. Or get at the fliers, at any rate.
<El-Cideon> She doesn't have wings, that much is certain.
<Franceska> "How come?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you know, there are so many different kinds of person populating the planes--sometimes a clash of personalities is inevitable. It's better to be safe, and you should know that safe is precisely what I aim to keep my exhibits. You know, each and every one of them I rescued from some manner of mortal peril?" The joker-mask fairy gives him a look and he waves away a correction. "Well, impending mortal peril, at the least."
<Julia> "A useful definition," Julia agrees, masking her sarcasm well.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, but it's true!" Blackbird points out. "Marcus, for example--oh, what would possess such a thoroughly crippled man to go mountaineering! You know, it was very fortunate for him that I stumbled upon him at the bottom of that ravine before some wild animal did."
<Steph> "Did you, uh, ask him?"
<El-Cideon> "Well! Did I ask him if I should have left him to die? Of course I did not!"
<Franceska> "What would have happened to him if he died in a heaven?" Franceska asks curiously.
<El-Cideon> "Well, I'm not a student of theology, but it's my understanding that *where* you die is of little consequence with regard to spiritual concerns."
<Franceska> "So it is quite possible for him to die here, then return here for his afterlife, and then die again? Repeating ad infinitum?"
<El-Cideon> Blackbird looks deeply perplexed, as though he's never thought about this in greater detail than what little he's already said.
<Steph> "Yeah, that's a bit weird, isn't it? I know you die and go someplace else, but then why can't you just sort of carry on?" muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "There are some scholars who maintain that you simply become one with the world in which you belong," Rosemund pipes in.
<Franceska> "Oh how horrifying."
<El-Cideon> "Why?" she asks, genuinely confused.
<Franceska> "I will explain that later to you."
<Julia> "Best to avoid the whole dying business altogether," Julia says with a firm nod.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, but you couldn't suggest you expect to go somewhere unpleasant?" Rosemund asks, genuinely shocked.
<Steph> "Well, if you became one with something, how would you know? You'd be, uh, something else. Someone else. Who is like you, but not you, you know?"
<El-Cideon> Blackbird chuckles at Julia. "Ah, but nothing lasts forever, my dear. If there is one lesson for you to take form the gallery, I should expect it be that! Why, we have a man here who could demonstrate exactly why this is not necessarily a thing to be desired."
* Franceska gives Rosemund a look. Becoming one with the elf plane, having elves trod on you and merged with you for all of eternity. And this is supposed to be the best option for an afterlife.
<Julia> "Well, so long as I am not tragically murdered in my youth, at least..."
<El-Cideon> "Yes, a long life well-lived," Blackbird enthuses. "Another lesson with which you should leave tucked into that pretty little head of yours--precisely how fortunate the few are to experience such an existence!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund is well experience in giving Franceska a stalwart Look right back!
<Franceska> "What terrible fate were you saved from?" Franceska asks the possible yellow elf in the cage, pretending not to notice.
<El-Cideon> "Myriad wounds," she says, without emotion. "It would have been more appropriate to leave me where he found me."
<El-Cideon> OOC: KP on her if you want to be sure, incidentally
<Franceska> "Is this a situation where you long for a warrior's death to regain your honor, but cannot take your own life?" Franceska inquires curiously.
<Franceska> roll 1d20+9 sure
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+9 sure and gets 18."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> Franceska recognizes her as a representative of one of the gith species--most likely the githzerai, monkish denizens of Limbo, based on her attire and bearing.
<El-Cideon> "Honor does not concern me," she says. "Suicide is merely an act of convenience. I do not subscribe to convenience."
<Franceska> "So what do you want out of life, then?"
<El-Cideon> "What I want is of no consequence," she says. "The proper action for me to take would be to make amends. It is very difficult to make amends to the dead."
<Franceska> "Make amends for whom?"
<El-Cideon> "The cloister," she says, adding with absolute calmness, "whom I murdered through disloyalty."
<Franceska> "So you are quite strong? To be able to murder a whole cloister on your own?"
<El-Cideon> "I murdered them with words," she continues. "I turned them against one another for the sake of personal ascendance, while the enemy waited for our moment of weakness. With the fire of youth I knew our prior to be too old and too reticent to take necessary action against an impending threat. So I sought to subvert him and replace him with someone possessed of more initiative. Myself. I whispered rumors and fostered rivalries and destroyed us from within more effectively than an army could have done." She looks up with a dismissive wave towards Blackbird. "I say these things because they are true, not because this fool wills it."
<El-Cideon> Blackbird and his companion merely chuckle as if they've heard this a thousand times before.
* Franceska looks disappointed. If they end up having to fight their way out, she will just need to free someone else. Maybe the nymph? She's a fey so that's a minus, but she might have some useful magic if nothing else.
<El-Cideon> She examines Francesa closely. "I am an experienced combatant, to answer you query."
* Franceska perks back up! "How about flying? Can you fly outside Limbo?"
<El-Cideon> "I cannot," she answers.
<Julia> "And what were these enemies?" Julia asks before Blackbird can dwell too much upon Franceska's questions. If he's even paying attention...
<El-Cideon> Blackbird seems forever too fascinated with his gallery and his own voice. His guards pay more active attention to the gallery's current guests than he does.
<El-Cideon> "Slaadi," she answers. "So we suspected. A band of them loitered outside our walls. This is not unusual. But there was an...illness, in the void, that threatened to consume the monastery. We assumed these occurrences connected." She looks briefly uncomfortable. "In point of fact I have since come to understand the magics in effect more likely of Abyssal origin." She quickly waves this away. "But ignorance absolves me of nothing."
<Steph> "And even if you knew, would your actions have changed?"
<Franceska> "No, no!" Franceska insists, perking up even further. "It is a very reasonable defense! Demon possessions or demonic influences are a perfectly acceptable reason to avoid further punishment by the relevant authorities!"
* Julia glances down at the bat clinging to the arm of her robes for a moment. Handy to know.
<El-Cideon> "Perhaps, perhaps not," she says to Stephanie, sounding uninterested in hypotheticals. "I chose the easiest and most attractive course open to me at the time. I do not suspect different intelligence might have changed this."
<Franceska> "There is no need to volunteer that information, of course."
<Steph> "Um, she's not on trial?"
<El-Cideon> This prompts something akin to a laugh from within the cell, just a harsh bark.
<Steph> Stephanie looks at her curiously.
<El-Cideon> "Personal loyalty and communal loyalty," Blackbird muses. "Always a difficult balance to reach, is it not? So easy to excuse ambition when of course your self-interest is merely enlightened with the knowledge of your own superiority." He sighs.
<Julia> "Yes, naturally," Julia agrees, trying hard to detect any irony in the fey's tone.
<El-Cideon> Blackbird doesn't look or sound like a man aware of any personal irony, of course!
<El-Cideon> "But, but I'm sure you meant it for the best," Rosemund says, trying to cheer the woman up despite her looking supernaturally immune to such efforts.
<El-Cideon> "Intentions are irrelevant," she responds dismissively.
<Franceska> "I would be forced to agree. In many cases, it is the result that matters. Sometimes, all we can do is try to bring about a favorable outcome together."
<El-Cideon> The woman gives Franceska an approving nod.
<El-Cideon> "Shall we move on?" Blackbird suggests. "Are our guests fatigued yet?"
<Franceska> "I think we could," Franceska muses, glancing at the others.
<Julia> "Certainly," Julia goes along with it until there's a chance to shake things up a bit.
<El-Cideon> ~