The light orbs have dimmed, either anticipating or encouraging the Dragon's inclination to rest upon being deposited in this room. It is not clear how much time has elapsed, but something stirs the Dragon from her dreamless slumber. The lights are still dim, providing just enough light for Dragon's eyes to pick up and to make out the living surroundings.

"Has she worn out the body already?" the Dragon wonders, and sits up on her bed.

The room does not answer. There's a faint buzzing, however, in Dragon's head, and it takes a moment to realize that, at least as she's perceiving it, she's hearing voices. However, it does not sound like someone having a chat beyond the door, or noises carrying down from the Bridge. Rather, it sounds artificial … like a radio receiver in another room, suffering from a great deal of interference, though Dragon picks up nothing to suggest the sound of static that would normally accompany such an allegory.

The aspect frowns, hoping Inala isn't trying to access the ansible somehow. She tries to tune in the signal as best she can.

The Dragon hears snippets of conversation … and other sounds. There is a sound of fireworks going off … a celebration? Some sort of musical strain … Ah. It sounds familiar now. The Symphony of Air was practicing this music for the upcoming Guy Fox Day celebration.

"Ah, we're awake again," the Dragon concludes. She considers tapping into memory to review what's actually going on, but decides against it. Showing that much interest could play into the invader's hands, after all. For now she contents herself with the snippets that leak through.

There are fragments of conversation, and other sounds. Dragon is able to piece together that Envoy must indeed be awake … for she can hear Envoy's voice – though her inflection and her mannerisms are all wrong. Inala is obviously at the helm. There is mention of the Caroban Watch, and Envoy picks up the voices of Cyprian, and of Elise. Elise doesn't seem to be nearly so pleased with Envoy's new approach to life as "Envoy" is.

Dragon smiles. "I knew Elise had a healthy streak of asceticism in her. Maybe Cyprian will be able to sort this out."

At last, Dragon can hear the crunching of … eating something. The ship seems to reverberate with the ecstasy that Envoy experience from the simple act of eating … a cookie? And then, more words … "I didn't realize you were so familiar with my case." Envoy's voice, but in Imperial.

"Imperial? Dean Ssrithiri must be there, the snake," the Dragon grumbles. Still … if the Dean of Nightmares really is involved with the cabal of Babelite mages, then maybe he could provide the lever to topple Inala's confidence in her own individuality.

"Yffryn informed me of the events you had mentioned to her," a voice says, in Imperial, with an edge of pleasure to it. Yes, it sounds like the Dean of Dreams, Ssrithiri of Nightmares. "Of course, the matter is of the utmost concern to me."

"Are there any objections to my conducting some diagnostic rituals?" the Dean says, this time in Standard.

Dragon pays close attention to this part, to see if Inala will object.

No, it doesn't seem as if Inala is objecting … or, at least, there's no hint of the Inala-Envoy voicing any protest. It sounds as if there is some sort of dispute – Cyprian's voice can be heard – but there's no longer the sound of Elise's voice. She is either keeping quiet, or is absent. Although Cyprian's words can't be made out, he sounds level and calm – but then, so does Ssrithiri. It all sounds so terribly … cordial.

"Cyprian and Ssrithiri are facing off, perhaps," Dragon muses.

For a long time, Dragon can't hear anything at all. Then she senses something new, but this time, not with her ears. It takes her a moment to realize what it is. Magic.

Rubbing her hands together and grinning, she tries to sense which Sphere is involved. "Maybe I'll have a visitor soon."

The aspect cannot discern what type of spell is being worked, only that one is … and it is becoming increasingly potent, as she feels the ritual drawing longer, and more magic gathering around her, though for what purpose she cannot tell.

Dragon begins to wonder if the others can feel it as well – she's never been entirely certain which part of Envoy's mind handles magic, only that it takes all of them working together to use it effectively.

The floor and walls thrum faintly, to the beat of an unheard chant. There is no sense any longer of those snippets of conversation heard outside of Dragon's own perception. It is as if, at some point, it has been abruptly shut off, though it's not clear exactly at what point this may have happened, or whether it is connected to the sensations of active magic.

Always the paranoid one, Dragon begins to wonder if the spell is somehow centered on her. "Trying to lock me away, Inala? No, that doesn't make sense. Perhaps it's a probe of some kind." She begins to pace around the bed.

The floor is soft and fleshy, just as it appears, though not so much that Dragon's feet would sink into the floor – rather, more like shaggy carpet. The thrumming and pulsing is almost "subconsciously" sensed – or at least, what would qualify as such, to one such as Dragon. It's comforting … soothing … almost hypnotic … like a mother's heartbeat as heard by a baby in the womb.

The Dragon does her best to ignore the soothing effects of the spell. While they may allow it to penetrate past Inala's guard, the logical aspect wants to be at full alertness.

The pulse continues. Actually, it doesn't seem to compel Dragon terribly. Perhaps this would be more effective on the other Aspects. Nonetheless, it does not relent.

If there is to be a visitor for Dragon, it would seem to be very slow in coming. The thrumming keeps a constant rhythm, with no sense of building or decay for the time being.

Dragon considers the situation. She hadn't expected Envoy to wake up and still be separated into her Aspects, unless Inala is somehow keeping her in a perpetual dream state, awake or not. "So Dream Magic might be more obvious, in which case it is probably the Naga working the spell."

Alas, there is no chanting to be heard, no voice, no sort of flavor to the magic that Dragon can grasp onto to confirm or deny this assessment.

Going over to the door-valve, the Dragon tries to open it. Maybe it's time to see how the others are reacting.

The door seems to be locked. However, there's something familiar about the "construction", if it can be called that. This environment doesn't seem to be wholly alien. Elements of it draw upon some of Envoy's own memories … and those would include the Stela-Rhyan database.

Returning to the center of the room, the Dragon sits down and … waits.

Thrum, thrum, thrum. Time passes.

Thrum, thrum … and then another strange sensation. More magic. Different magic. Still foreign magic, alas, but something is happening. It may be frustrating, that there's no clue as to just what "something" entails, but that intangible something seems a little different about the pattern.

Dragon hmms. "Is Inala working magic now? In her realm, it would be like that of Morpheus, I think. The Black Father would probably know, but I can hardly ask him now."

And, alas, there doesn't seem to be anyone or anything at the moment that responds to Dragon in his stead. There isn't even a guard coming to check on the "cell", to bring food and water … which brings to mind the other strange sensation of hunger and thirst that Dragon suddenly realizes, and which must have been there for some time.

Frowning, the Aspect begins to wonder about this simulated environment. "Inala, you try to make me uncomfortable?" she chuckles to herself. Knowing that logically she cannot starve or die of thirst, the Dragon ignores the feelings. In her normal state, Envoy wouldn't even be feeling them like this herself.

The sensation doesn't intensify. It's just there, and Dragon finds it no more difficult to shut it out of her mind than she might have expected. But it's still there.

Curling up on her small bed, Dragon wonders how well Inala deals with frustration. "Envoy has her physical limitations. Trying to make her operate like a mortal will tax her systems."

The "other magic" sense heightens, echoed by a slight variation in the thrumming sensations running through the walls and floor.

"Perhaps this isn't Inala's doing," Dragon mutters, noting the change in the beat of the ritual. "Perhaps someone is trying to sneak in with their own ritual. Would Cyprian risk something like that, I wonder?"

There are more reverberations in the pattern. There are faint sounds from somewhere beyond the walls of the room. They sound organic … or perhaps mechanical? Perhaps this vessel is doing something.

Dragon decides she doesn't like the extra sounds. Imaginary as this play may be, it most likely reflects the physical state of Envoy in some way.

The earlier thrumming … fades away. Now, there is only the basic sensation of the vessel's breathing, and its heartbeat … and that alien, different sensation.

Being this aware of Envoy's physical state is new to the Dragon, even if that awareness is a bit abstracted. Her place has always been deep in the Aeolun's less organic brain core, away from the "wet bits" that interface to the body itself.

There's a ripple … a disturbance in the alien pattern.

"The other spell is weakening, I think," Dragon concludes. If the first was Dream Magic, then perhaps this is Mind Magic.

Whatever is happening, the second thread hasn't died out just yet. It's still going for the moment.

There's a musical lilt to the sensations coursing through the environment, separate from this alien thread. It feels of power, of vibrancy. It seems as if the environment itself is … purring?

Dragon blinks at this. It isn't a proper draconic purr, after all, but one of those lazy feline ones. "Next thing, she'll start wagging her tail. If Inala wants a pet, well … she shouldn't expect to get anything more than that, then."

The environment doesn't seem the least bit less pleased (if that's what this really signifies) despite Dragon's poor review.

And then … the alien thread … disperses.

"She'll be waking up soon, I imagine," Dragon mutters, and looks up at the ceiling and the passage to the control center. For some reason, she feels the urge to bang against it with a broom and complain about the noise.

The portal in the ceiling is still tightly closed, with nothing of a quiver or anything else to hint that it might open anytime soon. Alas, there doesn't appear to be a broom present for Dragon to act out her impulse. Although the notion does strike her that, somehow, if there were a broom here, she'd be able to find it.

The Dragon's stomach rumbles, though she's quite capable of ignoring it.

"That goddess is running Envoy too hard," she grumbles. "This constant state of arousal is probably accelerating the metabolism and depleting the neurotransmitter and vitamin stores to the point of exhaustion."

A long time passes. Then, there is a knock on the … portal, for lack of a better term. It happens to be the one set in the wall, rather than on the ceiling. It's only barely audible as a knock, since it's muffled by the semi-flexible nature of the fleshy material the door is made of. There's probably some better way of getting the occupant's attention.

The Dragon looks up at this, and calls out, "Who is it?"

"Father," a deep voice replies, muffled by the door. "I request permission to enter."

"Sure, you can come in," Dragon says, "assuming you can open the door, since I certainly can't."

The sphincter shudders and twists, and then the flaps contort and expand outward. Through it steps the hybrid form of the Father … not accompanied, at present, by "Mother". "I wanted to come and talk to you, one on one. I reasoned to Mother and Playmate that you were feeling outnumbered."

Dragon raises her eyeridges at this. "I've always been outnumbered."

"More so than usual," Father amends, and steps the rest of the way inside. The sphincter shudders and contracts, sealing shut again, only offering Dragon a fleeting glimpse of a corridor outside, and an organic growth that looks vaguely like some sort of control panel that is melting back into the wall, its purpose served for the moment.

"And you are here to make peace, and win my cooperation," Dragon guesses, not moving from the bed. "That's what you were made for, after all."

"Of course," the Father says. "However, that is not the only reason I am here."

"Something else concerns you then?" Dragon asks, keeping a neutral expression.

The Father nods, looking about the chamber. "I seek your advice." He seems to find what he's looking for, as he heads over to one of the knobby growths, and brushes it, caressing it with a casual touch. The growth trembles, then erupts into what at first looks like an eye … except that it appears to be akin to the glowing orbs providing dim lighting for the room. The lens-like shape casts more of a glow in the room, making a long shadow behind Father. He touches sections of the wall that serve as panels.

Dragon watches and remembers the actions. "You usually only seek my advice when things are very bad."

As Father touches the panels – and Dragon studies the actions and files away the apparent functions of the controls – the light in the orb adjusts itself, and then focuses into an image. It's a view of the Crossroads, from the Realm of Dream. It looks different now. For one thing, the road is now paved in red broken stone, rather than gray and crystal. For another, the statue of Inala has been replaced by … a statue of Envoy.

"Quite a flattering rendition," Dragon notes, looking at the statue. "Have we been promoted from Avatar to Demigod now?"

The hybrid doesn't answer Dragon's supposition, per se, but he does manage to operate the controls in a manner that sets the image into motion. A mist forms. A snake – Ssrithiri – appears. Events play out, with the snake paying homage to the Envoy-Inala avatar, as the statue comes to life … and then Elise makes an appearance. She hears an exchange of dialogue, rendered somewhat tinny, as it is played by vibrating membranes to each side of the "viewscreen".

At the end, Ssrithiri leaves … then Elise … and then Envoy-Inala returns to her position guarding the archway. The image resumes a static position … or else there just isn't any more movement to be noticed. Father at last turns to Dragon. "I wish to hear what you make of all this."

Dragon grins. Intrigue, strategy, and long term planning are some of her functions as an Aspect. "Well, it's always good to keep your friends and enemies close. Ssrithiri probably has an agenda, otherwise he wouldn't have been in such a hurry to make this visit I think. He's confident that Envoy won't betray him to the next mage that examines her, either. Elise is just being Elise, trying to learn what is happening and what, if anything, she can do about it. You realize you won't be able to deal with this without me, unless you completely trust Inala. But she seems more interested in living in the moment than looking forward."

Father stares at the monitor quietly for some time, then asks, "What agenda do you suppose Ssrithiri is advancing, and why?"

"He wants power, and Envoy has been dropped into his coils, so to speak," Dragon says. "He could be a part of the larger cabal of Mages, given what we know of his past. He's offered to provide Envoy aid in whatever Inala wills her to do, which is somewhat circular if the mages are still pulling the Goddess' strings."

"Of course, he could also be loyal to the High Princess, who might see Envoy as a threat to her position," Dragon adds, teasingly. "After all, the Babelites are used to being ruled by an immortal tyrant, and Envoy is halfway there."

Father asks, "What is your honest estimate of the threat that Ssrithiri, the 'mage cabal' and the High Princess present to us, if any?"

"If they cannot control us, they will destroy us," Dragon says plainly. "We are too great a potential weapon to allow to run loose. They might even want to use us against Morpheus."

Father furrows his brow. "Do you believe that they see Morpheus as a threat?"

"Not as long they have him captive, or they would have found some way to neutralize him," the Dragon says. "Once they've gotten what they wanted, though, I have no illusions that they will release him."

"Is Morpheus a threat to Inala?" the Father asks.

The Dragon remains quiet for some time. "What an odd question, Father. Surely nothing can threaten a Goddess, correct?"

"It is a question," Father asserts. "Do you have an opinion as to the answer?"

"I may," Dragon says, quietly. "But what will Inala do, in either case? Does she see me as a threat?"

"No," Father says, though too quickly. "There is no reason for her to see you as a threat," he adds.

"Yet she locks me away in a cell?" Dragon asks. "Of course she sees me as a threat, because I am a threat. She just can't afford to get rid of me without losing Envoy as well."

Father seems a bit strained. "There is no reason to lock you away in a cell. You have done nothing disruptive. No, you are not locked away. There has only been a misunderstanding." It sounds as if he is talking more to himself than to Dragon.

"If I did join you, would I be as effective?" Dragon asks, trying to wedge logic into Father's reasoning. "After all, I would then only say what Inala wanted to hear."

Father says, "That presumes that all that you have to say will be contrary to that which Inala wishes to hear."

Dragon grins, "Oh, that is almost a certainty, since logic shows that Inala herself must be a puppet. And she doesn't want to face that, so better to banish logic altogether."

"If Inala is a puppet," Father says, "then why does she have questions about the ones you claim are her puppeteers?"

"There's nothing wrong with having questions," Dragon asserts. "But does she really want to know the answers? Do you want to really accept that you are being manipulated by Her?"

If Father answers the question, it is not by vocalizing it with a direct response. "Dragon, you are obviously frustrated. Take care that you do not become a purposeless disrupter. There is a new status quo. We are one with Inala. You are the only one who has not accepted this, and you are the only one who poses a threat to the peace and harmony we can have together with Inala. Take care that you do not thoughtlessly violate what trust is shown you."

Meanwhile, somewhere beyond the room, a voice can be heard sing-songing, "Oh Faaaaaather! Where aaaaaare you? Don't hide from me, Father! I want to play, and Mother is wondering where you are! Faaaaaather!"

Dragon chuckles. "And don't you forget, Father, that the personality Aspects are, essentially, expendable. Envoy can always develop a new personality, but I'm older than all of you, and you can't get rid of me without crippling Envoy."

Father looks to the door, then back to Dragon. "You are correct. I am expendable. But whatever happens, do not act without considering Envoy, and what is best for her. I must go now." He touches the area next to the "monitor", and the membranes retract, and the "lid" closes, until nothing is left but a featureless lump of flesh on the wall.

"Take care to do so yourself," Dragon reminds Father. "This state of physical arousal will throw her out of balance before too long."

"Envoy is at rest," Father says. "And do not forget to sustain yourself. You have been detached from the whole. You must perform certain self-sustaining functions that would have been previously automated." He pauses, then repeats, "I must go now," and walks to the portal.

Dragon stares at the closed entrance for a moment, then goes over to the control cluster. "I should be able to get bread and water from this thing."

The Father brushes at the portal, and it ripples, then jerks open, allowing him passage through. Once he's through, it seals again, leaving Dragon once again alone in the chamber. As for the control cluster, it is a collection of lumps and protrusions that serve as controls. There doesn't seem to be any particularly intuitive arrangement to it, per se, but somehow Dragon just knows that, yes, it can provide bread and water. Within thisenvironment, it can provide a number of types of nourishment, though on the higher level of things, above this abstraction of reality, that would only be window-dressing.

After a few moments, Dragon makes a decision and returns to her bed without getting any food. "We'll see if they love Inala enough to let me starve. I could probably lose a few pounds anyway."