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[mouse_shadow]

There is a book of rules, and a puzzled man reading it. To Paul, The Book of Peace from the Mahābhārata makes little sense. Its regulations seem arbitrary, the whims of culture and class prejudice. Lucky thing he's in a good mood again, or he might search out this Yudishthira and have a word with him

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[futures_of_ash]

[My AIM still hates you *sighs*]

There is a shell that drifts dowmn, gentle as a feather, to land near his breakfast plate. It's star shaped, and seems to shade from blood red at the tips to a pale, gentle pink in the center...

[mouse_shadow]

[OOC:better than my openning]

Even for a man born on an ocean world, this is curiously unusual. Shells normally drift only below the waves. It draws his attention up to where Rachel sits on the ceiling. Does she have an allergy to the ground?

"Rachel, my lady, what are you doing?"

[futures_of_ash]

[*pokes AIM* what version do you run?]

She glances down at him, certainly not disoriented by the fact that she looks up to do so, braid coiling down near past the rafters. She actually doesn't smile at first, her eyes are too withdrawn and distant to do so...

But, eventually, she focuses on the present, a single card left in her hand. "Paul" she indentified, or perhaps greeted.

"I'm...checking things...making sure I didn't miss anything important"

[mouse_shadow]

[i use trillian-will try aim]

Paul, in his classic devil-may-care style, climbs upon the barstool, then Bar (please don't kill him!), deftly leaps to catch on a rafter, and swings to a sitting position on another beside her. Certainly not disoriented by the fact that their chins are aimed in opposite directions.

"I would think building your cunstuction on the floor or a table would be important, but you don't seem to be having any problems with gravity."