After being given the run-around, and directed to this office, then another, with various bureaucrats giving Envoy puzzled looks at some innocent answer to a "simple" question and then ushering her off to ANOTHER office … Envoy finally (?) reaches the Office of Registration, and, after a long wait on the queue, is directed toward this unimpressive cubicle.

Envoy waits patiently for the person behind the desk to notice her.

The green-and-black Zelak, which Envoy has nicknamed 'Bem', looms behind the Aeolun with patience worthy of a rock. In fact, if it were not for the occasional movements of its head, it might be a statue. So far the other Zelaks have ignored its passage save for occasional rapidfire clickings.

Envoy scratches her neck a bit. Ever since Queen Shkarkin bit her, the healed-over wound has continued to itch.

A thin bat sits behind the desk, dressed in black which contrasts greatly with her starch-white fur. Her long black hair is straight and frayed, dull and without much sheen at all, spilling between her large ears and interfering with her vision, if there was anything she seemed inclined to look at other than her nails – which she is currently painting glossy black.

Envoy finally speaks up. "The black and white provide a stark contrast. Is that your intent?"

A couple of dark eyes (which add not a bit of color to the bat) look through the straggles of hair hanging over the bat's face, rimmed in heavy black mascara that gives her an appearance that might suggest someone of Egyptian origins, of one knew of that land … and if the wearer weren't so pale.

The bat picks up a long, thin pipe that carries a cigarette (or something much like it) in its end. She draws upon it, then blows a puff of smoke that rolls through the air in Envoy's direction.

"There is no contrast," says the bat in a husky, raspy voice. "There is only pain."

Envoy smiles warmly, and holds her breath. In the dim candle-light, her own colors are a bit subdued. "Why do you apply the black makeup if it is painful?"

The candle light catches on an emblem hanging at the bat's neck. At first glance, it appears to be metal, but it's too light. It looks like a stylized "crow's foot", three toes pointing downward.

The bat takes another long draw, then rasps, "Because I like it."

Envoy, ever cheerful, says, "I was told that this is the proper place to register a Zelak."

The bat looks at the Zelak, takes another long draw, and lets another puff of smoke loose, which drifts upward and over one of the cubicle walls.

The Zelak behind Envoy continues to do its own imitation of a statue.

Envoy watches the odd behavior, wondering what the smoking cylinder is for.

The bat doesn't make any move to satisfy Envoy's curiosity by answering her wonderings. Instead, she rasps, "Yes. You have a Zelak to register?" Never mind the fact that there is a very conspicuous-looking Zelak right here, who is even more conspicuous thanks to the lack of free space.

Envoy smiles and nods, "Yes. This one here." She gestures over her shoulder.

Bem says nothing.

The bat lets a puff of smoke roll out in the Zelak's direction. She leans back in her chair, precariously balanced … except for a pile of paper debris which seems to be perfectly stacked to provide her with some back support. Just before the puff reaches its destination, the bat rasps, "Is she your owner?"

The Zelak rasps, "I am a warrior of Shkarkin Hive. I serve Shkarkin Queen."

The bat looks mildly surprised, then reaches for a manual. It's too much effort to reach, though, while still sitting, so she abandons that effort.

Envoy just smiles.

The bat looks to Envoy. "So … you are the Shkarkin Queen?"

Envoy blinks, "No. But I am nominally part of Shkarkin Hive. The details were not made clear to me."

The bat says, "I see," in a rasp that doesn't sound terribly convincing that she sees much of anything, except for another opportunity to take another draw upon her pipe.

"The scout Envoy is of Shkarkin Hive," Bem responds. "It is the Queen's will that she be protected."

"I am Envoy," Envoy adds helpfully.

The bat looks annoyed.

Envoy interprets the look of annoyance as meaning the Eeee is now giving her her full attention.

The bat asks, "Do you have a proof of ownership? Or some sort of written … ah … permission from this Queen?"

Bem says nothing, helpfully.

Envoy says, "I don't own the Zelak, so I have no proof of ownership. The Zelaks don't keep written records that I can discern."

Envoy says, "And I don't understand what you mean by permission. Permission from the Queen for what?"

The bat grumbles, leaning forward in her chair enough so that it clanks onto all four legs again. She rasps, "I'd help you immediately, but I just realized it's time for my mid-morning, pre-brunch, post-early-snack coffee break. Do pardon me. I'll be back real soon." She stands up.

Bem's head turns instantly in the direction of the clanking. Seeing no hostile action, it continues to look slowly back and forth.

Envoy hmms, "Is there a form I can fill out while you're gone?"

"Yeah, yeah … here." She grabs at a crumpled form and hands it to Envoy. The bat mutters something to herself about talking dinner plates, and exits the cubicle, leaving the Zelak and the alien alone.

Envoy tries to uncrumple the form, which seems to have some drops of wax holding a few of the folds together.

The form has plenty of spaces for writing down one's name, occupation, age, place of birth, race, gender, nationality, primary language – that sort of thing. Whether or not it's the proper form might be in question, as many of these look much alike in this respect.

Envoy looks around for something to write with.

Aha. So THAT'S what's missing. There seems to be a distinct lack of writing utensils … save for, that is, the bat's cosmetics and nail polish.

Envoy picks up the nail brush, and begins to fill in as many of the spaces on the form as she can… which isn't many.

Envoy figures 'Shkarkin Hive' is her nationality now, so fills that in.

Bem looks disinterested in the writing, instead, surveying the rest of the applicants just in case some of them might be planning hostility towards Envoy.

Eventually, approaching foot steps herald the return of the bat, as she slips back into the cubicle. Bats are typically long-limbed and frail, but she's exaggeratedly so. She sits down at the desk again, and resumes her previous posture, as if she'd never left.

Envoy works down the list… Name: Envoy Lothrhyn; Occupation: Bard; Age: 2; Place of Birth: Lothrhyn's Third Ventral Womb; Race: Exile; Gender: Female; Primary Language: Quantum Trinary… and so on. She hands the form back to the returned Eeee, and replaces the brush.

The Eeee looks at the form, not even noticing the return of the nail polish brush. Perhaps it's for the best. She skims down the form far too quickly to really be digesting the information. (Her bland expression and no visible reaction to the particular answers would possibly hint at this as well.) She rasps, "Looks complete to me."

Envoy smiles her perpetual smile, and takes the rasp for a positive response.

The bat asks, "Do you have the fee?" She flips to another page in the form. Her eyebrow raises, looking a bit surprised. She mutters, "… would have figured it would cost a lot more than that… "

Envoy checks her money purse. "How much is the fee?"

The bat squints at the form, bringing it up to her nose, then rasps, "Twenty-five shekels."

Envoy says, "Do I pay that here?"

"Yes," says the bat, "or it's another five shekels' fee to have a bill sent to your residence at the Bards' Guild."

Envoy extracts 25 shekels from her dwindling supply, and offers it to the bat.

The bat begins coughing, making loud hacking noises, and then leans over. *TING!* A spittoon in a corner vibrates, rattling around on its base. The bat wipes her mouth, then takes the shekels. "A pleasure to be of service to you, Citizen," she says in a grating rasp.

Envoy waits a bit, then asks, "Do I get a receipt?"

The bat leans over and scribbles on the form. She must have taken her pen with her when she went on a "coffee break". "Yes, yes. Just a moment," she rasps. She rips off a stub and hands it to Envoy. "Here you go. And hurry on out. You're holding up the next Citizen in line."

Envoy thanks the Eeee, and heads out with the receipt clutched in one hand, thinking it is the only documentation she will need.

The bat looks up and sees that the alien has already left without her certification. "Aw. She might come back. HEY! *KOFF* *HACK*"

Bem follows Envoy wordlessly.

Envoy is already into the maze of corridors, heading for an exit.

The bat grumbles at the prospect of having to make some exertion for something other than a coffee break. She stands, letting the chair clatter, then looks at the form and shrugs. "Oh well. I didn't notice the next office she's supposed to visit. I suppose THEY can contact her… Not my problem."

The alien makes it out of the Temple without undue hassle. Later, back at the Bards' Guild, a package arrives from the Temple, addressed to Envoy.

Envoy opens the packet as soon as she receives it.

Inside, the package contains a cute uniform complete with sash, a copy of the "Temple Scout Handbook", some boxes of Temple Scout cookies (with tips on selling them and instructions on getting the revenues back to the Temple). Ah. So THAT'S why some of those questions on the form had garment sizes. (Good thing Vielanika went to the trouble of finding out all that information while going clothes-shopping for Envoy… )

Bem looks over Envoy's shoulder. No, no hazardous materials. It looks around in insectoid boredom.

Envoy smiles, and says to Bem, "Look, Bem! Cookies!"