&. until the day i see you again.

                                                & ALCHEMY. {    

                            broadly defined, it is the quest for perfection,                             the aim to reach that which is perfect;                             a technical system that reaches that of the level of gods.

“Despite what you may assume, I have not, in fact, read everything that’s ever been published,” Saint-Germain replies, offering a very small smile of her own. No, even if she tried, it would be difficult to read everything that had been published in relation to heretical technology and alchemy throughout the millennia, and it wasn’t as if she’d had much free time up until now.

Despite her situation, she finds it cute how Elfnein’s trying to treat her as a normal guest, not someone being kept under strict lock and key. While she’d love to see the remains of the Chateau herself (and who knows, maybe if she looked around enough, Prelati would be summoned to bitch about how the thing should belong to her), she also knows that just going to see it right now would cause no end of trouble for people. “Well, if you’re showing me things you’re not supposed to, you can play innocent first, and if that doesn’t work, tell them I forced you to. I am a dangerous criminal, after all.”

(Not that she’d ever imagine hurting a hair on their head. But the various staff at S.O.N.G. not only aren’t mind readers, they’re also overly protective of the small homunculus.)

“I’d assume books are the only thing you’re allowed to share with me, but if it gets to the point where I’m allowed to actually leave my room, I would be fascinated to look at your lab–if you would have me, of course.” Saint-Germain hasn’t moved to turn this place into a makeshift lab out of courtesy of her captors (well, Hibiki, mostly), and unlike with hotels, she doesn’t have any money to pay people who ask questions. “Please, don’t worry yourself too much with my situation. Things will play out one way or another, and I will be fine regardless of how they do.”

She knows what she wants, and she knows what she’d have to do to get what she wants–and she knows such things would likely be upsetting to those who seem to care for her. Holding out for Prelati and Cagliostro will do, for now.

     The suggestion is one that perks Elfnein to attention-- immediately. 

     Being able to show an alchemist of Saint Germain’s caliber their workspace was certainly exciting enough of a prospect on its own, but more importantly, that meant taking the most competent help she could possibly have at the moment to the place where her dear friends were still awaiting repair. Things were turning out to be... sadly more tricky than they were expecting, but giving up was definitely not an option either.

     “Of course!” Elfnein nods eagerly, hands clenched into small fists. “As soon as you’re given clearance, anything of mine that could be useful to you, you’re more than welcome to, Saint Germain-san.”

     With a small clear of their throat, a glance to the side, they add, “T-There’s just... one thing, if you don’t mind. During the recent altercation at the Chateau, Carol’s Autoscorers reactivated, to... k-keep me safe... all four of them were destroyed in the fight, a-and even though I was able to retrieve most of the, u-um... t-the pieces.... it’s proving difficult to make any progress with repairs. If it wasn’t for them, and for her, I...”

    The corners of their lips pull into a small frown as they hesitate to look back to their company.

It was definitely interesting, seeing what materials the homunculus (though they were no longer in the body of a homunculus, she supposed, but things like that tended to extend beyond bodyhood) had on hand, what S.O.N.G. was able to offer and let the small alchemist offer her. Saint-Germain’s not encountered too much new material yet, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy reading through the many, many texts Elfnein has brought her, even if they had to go back and pick up a few that had been dropped more than once.

The conversations they’d had, barricaded by a door but still interesting nonetheless, were a part of the day Saint-Germain had begun to look forward to. Things were boring, being stuck in a room with little to do after she’d finished reading or eating, and as far as she was concerned, Elfnein had no reason to respect her. And having some sort of constant throughout the days made it easier to keep track of time–they tended to show up once their break had started, sometime in the afternoon.

Of course, Saint-Germain’s got no intention of letting Elfnein know she’s been standing in front of the door for the past five minutes, waiting for them.

“Ah–hello, Elfnein. I am awake.” She doesn’t hesitate with her reply, but she doubts the other alchemist will think anything of it. “You know, there was actually something in one of the most recent books you’d brought me that I’d never heard of before.” (Of course, she’d never heard of it because it was completely theoretically wrong, but hey, wasn’t that part of the fun of all this?)

     Something even Saint Germain had never heard about... Elfnein can’t imagine they’d be much help with something like that, all things considered, but at the very least it might be interesting to talk about. 

      For as much was exchanged between themselves and Carol and as intensely deep as that bond was, Elfnein wouldn’t even consider themselves to be on her level of technical skill and applicable knowledge; that chasm had always been between the two of them, even by Carol’s own design. The more they’ve poured into their research the past few years, the more obvious it was that achieving even a hair of that would take more than books and haphazard trial-and-error and Saint Germain appearing now of all times... wouldn’t it be nice to consider it a positive omen, if not daresay a miracle? They were going to get as much out of these interactions as they could.

     “Oh?” Elfnein responds, a small hum following. “That’s a little surprising coming from you, Saint Germain-san. But then again, since so many of these have such different origins...”

     There’s a thoughtful pause, before they clarify, “There’s no legal precedent to allow seizure of property from a person whose body is in all technicality still alive, so I’ve been able to keep much of what was left of Carol’s personal belongings from the chateau. Her own notes and research are much more... I-I might get in trouble for showing you something like that right now, even if they’re mine, because you’re, a-ah.... u-um...--”

     Not to mention the unshakable burning glare that would haunt Elfnein for just handing over Carol’s life work so easily. To say she’d be annoyed about people touching her things was putting it lightly.

“Oh she’s….who knows where she is right now.” Rise wanders off so often into different parts of the University library it was hard telling where she was going to find her. More often than not, Rise found her instead. More often than not it scared the daylights out of her.

“I help her here during the times I stop here during my traveling. I suppose technically she’d consider me a…temporary staff of sorts. Regardless, I can help you. My name is Naoki, Miki.”

     That makes things easier on them, at least; the fewer people Elfnein had to work up the courage to approach, the better, especially when this Miki woman seemed nice and easy enough to talk to. For as hard as they were trying to find that strength and independence Carol’s final moments had left them in want of, it didn’t change the fact that, well....

     Elfnein was the size of a mouse and very, very shy. Ah well.

The young woman pauses. Looking over, blue eyes study the small girl curiously, and perhaps with a bit of confusion, before looking up where the book was. Reaching up, Miki gently pulls the book out, scanning the cover for a moment. German…? She looks and hands it over to the girl.

“This one?” She smiles a bit, friendly and polite.

     Elfnein’s doe-like eyes seem fixed on the woman as she reaches out to retrieve the book, only to light up with satisfaction once it’s finally in their hands. A quick and precursory skim, and a bit of absent mumbling under their breath, is all they need to confirm the identity of their prize-- this would do very nicely, actually. 

     The low patter of Elfnein’s shoes fills the otherwise silent halls, breaths coming in soft and unsteady puffs as they adjust the heavy stack of books in their arms. Truth be told, it was a bit much for them but... well, wasn’t ‘pushing past new limits’ the goal for the time being? Maybe this wasn’t much of a start in that regard, but it was something.

     Moreover, if Elfnein had picked up anything in the few encounters they had had with their new friend, it was that Saint Germain mowed through books like they were absolutely nothing and if they wanted to help the alchemist stay busy all day, it meant a little effort. 

     Maybe even a little overkill, but they’d be amiss to pretend it’s not a little exciting to be around someone who’s expertise not only lined up with but surpassed their own in their field of study. Someone like Saint Germain was a very valuable resource after all; past experience had taught as much, and Elfnein couldn’t help but be a bit eager in response.

     With a strained whine and a loud thud of textbooks on tile, Elfnein drops their carry just outside of Saint Germain’s door before buckling over their knees with heavy pants in an attempt to steady themselves. It’s only after a long moment that they manage to offer a brief shake of their head and straighten out their posture.

     “U-Um... !” Clearing their throat, Elfnein hesitantly reaches out to knock on the door. It wasn’t as if the two were strangers by now, having had more than a few conversations through a slot in the door, but something about the prospect of finally having clearance to enter the holding cell temporary residence felt...

     Sometimes they really, really wish that maybe Carol wouldn’t have frozen this body in time, that their vessel wasn’t going to be perpetually small and frail and childlike in a way that would continue to make things like research, well... a pain. 

     But here they were, the tender height of four-foot-something-small, and suffering.

     Elfnein’s eyebrows scrunch in distress as they glance to one of the library’s shelves settled tauntingly just out of reach, hands clenched at either side of them. This particular one happened to have a copy of an out-of-print German academic book that they needed for their notes and to leave without it just because they were too shy to ask for help felt a little...

     Clearing their throat, Elfnein turns to a blonde woman glancing through the rows nearby before hesitantly taking a few steps closer. She wasn’t much taller than Elfnein themselves but anything was better than struggling on their tiptoes in public.