Invite to the Salon (PVT, Eleanor)

While Chandre had a clock, she didn’t pay it much attention when the appointed meeting time came and went. She was, of course, inviting a creature of vastly superior evolutionary rank to her humble abode, and it made more sense to work from Eleanors clock than her own. Besides, Chandre was never without something on hand to occupy her time, and so as she sat in her arm chair she fiddled with what looked like knitting. In reality, it was a scaled down blueprint of a neural net she was very delicately bringing into form. Sometime down the line she intended to create a large network of neural nodes to make a biological computer, and the ‘circuitry’ for such a device was more than enough to distract her while she waited for Eleanor. She looked up from her project when she heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hall, a quick check for rietsu confirmed it was her guest and valet as opposed to curious humans or intruding Shinigami. Chandre handed her little project off to another well-dressed Vetruvian Homme, though this one bore seven arms, was a scant four feet tall and roughly in the shape of an aardvark otherwise. It scuttled off to another room while Chandre got to her feet to welcome her guest. She was dressed in a red evening gown that bore fine gold filigree embroidery as well as numerous fine gems woven in. Close inspection would reveal that they seemed to change and move in flowing patterns, but that was more out of habit since Chandre found it made her restless to maintain a single form for too long.

Ah! Non non non! I would not have you apologise mon ami, my joy knows no bounds that we could sit and speak again knowing how busy you must be! She said, trying to put Eleanors concerns about her tardiness to bed, though noting she was indeed a creature of exceptional manners! Please, take a seat wherever you wish. My pieces have gathered some snacks, all mundane unfortunately, thought now I have to admit making soul infused baked goods sounds like an intriguing experiment to run. She said as she took a seat back in her arm chair and motioned to other chair, love seat and chase. The plate of snacks was on an ornate oak coffee table in roughly equal proximity to all of the seats. Now, I have to admit that my curiosity is without limit and I apologize in advance if I come off as too probing. Please know that it is just my honest intent to get to know you. She said as she motioned for the Vetruvian Homme that had escorted Eleanor in to come and pour the tea. It gave a polite bow to excuse itself before attending to the tea in a surprisingly delicate manner for a creature its size. So dear Eleanor, would you be so kind as to tell me a bit about yourself?

Word Count: 499

Chandre listened very intently to Eleanors' story, noting how much of it was dedicated to the woman's living years, something Chandre was actually a little perplexed by. Chandre herself had, of course, lived and died as every one of their species seemed to have done. She remembered her mortal parents, her siblings and what hopes and dreams she had while she drew breath; but it seemed duller somehow when compared to the century of wonder she had experienced since. Perhaps Eleanor placed a greater value and appreciation for her living years, they certainly seemed to have influenced her last couple of centuries of seeking out this 'Philosophers Stone' which Chandre honestly didn't know a great deal about. She knew there was a great deal of lore and many stories written around the subject, but she hadn't personally looked into the validity of it.

I have to admit, I am curious about this Philosophers Stone, and the 'final step' you spoke of. As far as I understand the evolutionary line of Hollows, you are somewhere near the peak. You are clearly an arrancar, and from your rietsu once could guess you are indeed a Vasto lorde. What step is beyond that? She asked, wondering if Eleanor was on the brink of a yet undiscovered or perhaps just a less infamous stage in Hollow evolution. Chandre herself was very interested in the subject of evolution in all of its forms, including the transitionary stages found in her species.

But I suppose I should sate a bit of your curiosities before once again presenting my own. Though by no means do I believe you were 'rambling' as you said, and it is always a compliment to be an original. She said as she leaned back into her chair, pondering where to begin with her story. She leaned forward and placed her hand on the table, wax leaking from her palm as she were bleeding, but the fluid pooled and coalesced in front of her fingers. My parents weren't too dissimilar from your own, unfortunately, though certainly different in their own ways. She said as small figures stepped from the wax pool, a man and a woman, not taller than a foot, but made in remarkable detail. My father was a doctor and my mother was the town beauty, their marriage culminating from my mothers family attempting to better their lot in life during the Napoleonic era. My siblings dutifully honoured my mother's wishes to grow in power, marry into better families and the like. It was very much not my cup of tea as I seemed to carry after my father in interest and intellect. She said, more figures coming from the wax, three young men followed by two girls. They all grew, each one leaving with suitors and spouses eventually, leaving the last one, the youngest girl, clinging to her father's leg. I grew to follow in my father's footsteps after a fashion. I helped sew together wounded soldiers and soon came to work as a mortician in Paris which was interesting enough work. It allowed me to explore the human body very freely, preserve what I could and study it in all of the fine details that mother nature made. As she spoke the little girl clinging to her fathers leg grew, working as a nurse for her father before she began to exhume organs from their original owners. I thought of it as an art, and it was for my art that I died. I won't go into details, but in the end I had believed I had made my most fantastic, final masterpiece, and was proven wonderfully wrong only moments after when I was eaten by a hollow. The image shifted to a young woman standing before a gorilla like hollow that quickly chomped down on the woman and swallowed her whole. Within moments the hollow doubled over and melted into a puddle of wax that an image remarkably similar to Chandre walked out. I managed to take control of the beast that had eaten me, which I now realize is a fairly rare event, but it gave me wonderful abilities to create magnificent art. I travelled the world from there, more content to stay on the mortal plane as opposed to the endless dessert home of our people. I only really visited the wastes if I needed to make a hasty retreat or felt peckish for something with a little more substance than the average mortal soul. As she spoke the wax she was using to illustrate her narrative flowed back into her palm and she sat back into her chair. Of late I have found myself working in the curious field of biological engineering, making and crafting living devices to suit my needs. Devices that fit my utility requirements mostly, like interacting with mortals, or designs based around self defence. I have recently made a tincture that renders me visible to morals and another device in the prototype stage that allows me to be heard. I have several other designs that are still on the drawing board so to speak. She said, thinking how she really needed to get on top of making some more of these little items on her list. Her projects were starting to pile up.

Just a short time ago I met up with another arrancar actually and he invited me to see Los Noches. Theocelese was his name, cut a rather handsome figure too. She said as her body morphed and reshaped into the image of the male arrancar, her voice too changing to mimic the man part way through her scentence. I do look forward to speaking with him again, we had such a lovely conversation. She once again took on her feminine visage and voice. You had mentioned Los Noches, would it be too far of a stretch to imagine you have met this fellow?


Word Count: 986

Eleanors' fixation on the alchemical process actually hit a bit of a resonating cord with Chandre in that the woman herself sought after a form of perfection of her own. She wanted to create, or more ideally be, the perfect work of art. Make something so beautiful that no matter who looked at it, heard it or felt it, the only thing they would be able to describe is wonder at the flawless work before them. At the moment, she hunted this goal in the physical realm, her devices and creations being sort of 'patches' to her flaws. She could not be seen or heard by all, so she would make things to allow her to be seen and heard. If she was weak (as compared even to her current guest) she would make things to make her stronger and bolster her power. Listening to Eleanor though, she had to admit that this method was like trying to paint a masterpiece with a jack hammer.

I must say I respect your goal mon ami, it is very noble a course to run and I have to admit that I lament how far behind you I am. You see, I seek to refine myself and my works as well, but so far I have been doing a patch work job of it. She said, a twinge of sorrow in her voice as she spoke to Eleanor. But as in anything I must consider it a learning process. I make these devices to make up for my imperfections, but perhaps soon I will surpass the need of them, or make something to draw on the concept of perfection in a more... esoteric way. She said as Eleanor briefly explained the process by which she summoned the small trinket now being offered out to Chandre. The wax-work woman picked up the small fragile thing, turning it around as she peered through the smokey item. In it she could feel the idea of hearing, as if it were a thought made reality. It was a truly stunning ability!

Magnifique, this is such a pure expression. I must say it is a beautiful gift. She said, holding out her hand beside her over the floor as if to drop the newly created phantasm of an idea. From her hand, however, spilled more thick gooey wax, dropping to the floor before coming to a new form, a squat creature in fine dress, though boasting five arms each with a dozen or more fingers. The last lit candle on Chandres' crown went out in a little puff of smoke as her creation came to life. It delicately took hold of the small object and walked cautiously down the hall towards Chandre's lab. Perhaps in the near future we can work together in Los Noches and create something of substance with that, or perhaps something else. I have to wonder Eleanor, if you can pull something from the air such as a concept like hearing, could you possibly draw from the aether something such as raw perfection? She asked, wondering what the limits of this ability of hers was. She doubted that perfection could be so easily grasped from the air, or perhaps it was akin to writing the word, knowing it's meaning but only being a representation, not an actualization. Either way, the idea of such nebulous working materials was an intoxication that Chandre hoped she would have access to on a more regular basis. She had to stop herself though before she started looking at this wonderous woman in front of her as some sort of gold mine to be squeezed for resources. Forgive me, I had some untoward thoughts about the use of your ability, and I haven't even been polite enough to offer you a gift of my own. I have to admit that I don't know what I could possibly offer to you, but please, if you name something I would endeavour to acquire or create it for you.

Word Count: 666

Chandre pondered the journey she had been on thus far in her afterlife, wondering if everything she had done was truly towards her purpose, or if her attention had actually just narrowed in scope. She had always been keen to create art, but she had only really begun to work earnestly at creating something flawless in the past decade, and perhaps only made any headway in the past couple years. If that were truly the case, then how many centuries of work did she have ahead of her? If she could smirk with the flat faced porcelain mask of hers, she would be as she realized ‘that’s sort of the point’ of their conversation.

When Eleanor mentioned her failed attempts at creating perfection, Chandre had to admit a mixture of solidarity, disappointment and relief. She knew what it was like to strive to create something perfect only for the final product to be lack lustre. It happened almost every time she created one of her Vetruvian Homme creatures as she experiments with what forms and shapes illicit what response from what audience. So far, she had made hundreds of thousands of what she considered ‘beautiful failures’ much like what Eleanor expressed. Perhaps the lovely lady arrancar would be willing to part with one of these failures, Chandre knew she could find a purpose for something that was basically an etheric expression of ‘almost perfect.’ She was also feeling disappointment for the simple reason that this woman, clearly intelligent and by far more powerful could not manage to grasp perfection, so what chance did the waxwork woman have? Beyond that, she was relieved that Eleanor hadn’t conquered this task yet as it meant Chandre could still vie for the opportunity to make it first. The hollow wasn’t particularly against copying others, she did it physically quite often, but perfection wasn’t something she felt was meant to be copied, she wanted her perfection to be an original work! It wouldn’t do to dwell though, if Eleanor managed her feat first, then Chandre would have to tip her hat in respect and move on.

Please, take your time to think of something I may be able to do for you. Chandre said, more than happy to have the arrancar give the idea of a gift a little thought. Chandre would hate to just be asked for some trifle, she was an artist, and the best of art pieces had some thought and emotion put behind them! If I may though, something that may help is if you think of a problem you have. All of my more interesting pieces of art were created to fill some gap in ability or to smooth a process that had been agitating me. Le necessite est la mere de l’invention, or so they say. Chandre said, wondering what sort of issues an arrancar could have in her day to day life. They didn’t need to eat quite as regularly as Chandre did, and her vastness of power more or less put to bed any need for defensive equipment.

Word Count: 511

Chandre watched as her guest thought about her suggestion, wondering what sort of problems plagued a creature of such power. It could very well be a simple matter that she had a hard time cleaning her room for some reason or another, maybe she wanted something to organize her wardrobe of fluidly moving cloaks. She was actually a bit surprised when Eleanor asked for something akin to her little Vetruvian Homme creations. It made sense of course, but it was just a little jarring that Chandre had never considered making something along those lines before this moment. She could, of course, create her little minions from dawn until dusk, and while she was always limited to four she was never without her loyal tireless workforce. Just how impossible a task was it for a hollow to find an assistant? Sure, there were innumerable hollow of basic intelligence that one could wrangle and train, but there would always be the chance it would turn on you. She had never really considered how lucky she had been to always have her little helpers on hand, confident that they would always do their best to achieve her goals.

Hmmm, that is an interesting request… She said, her mind starting to ponder how exactly one would go about making a quasi-sentient servitor. Of course it would need a brain or some means of processing commands and fulfilling them, as well as all of the other commiserate organs that one requires for an operational machine. In her head she was going through designs as to how to make something to fulfill her guests request, and her mind wandered a bit too far on the subject. Her mental command of her body began to relax, taken with the thoughts going through her mind. Forms took shape through her dress as if it were trying to assemble a body, a knee being constructed or a spine coming together. These things fluttered across her form as her mind worked to put that puzzle together. Her concentration snapped back to reality however, and in doing so her body rippled for a moment as the red evening dress was restored to its former state, her jewellery in place and accessories unmoved as if nothing had changed. Ah! Je’regrette, I get lost in thought sometimes, and while definitely an interesting request, not one I believe I would have too much of an issue accomplishing. She said in a chipper tone, quite happy to have this puzzle to riddle out, and a little tickled to try and replicate one of her natural power sets.

Now, I do believe I have everything I would strictly speaking need to build something like this, but a few more specifics would be grand. You had mentioned stealth, so I would be happy to make the device subtle, but do you have any specific requests for defensive or offensive abilities? Will this thing be used in a more utilitarian sense? Would you like an option to remotely or directly control it, or should it have its own logic system to process commands? All three? Chandre asked, hoping that the quick barrage of questions wasn’t too much for the arrancar. Chandre had never actually made anything strictly for somebody else’s use, so she always knew what purposes and requirements she needed. In this respect however, she needed to make sure she was checking all of the boxes for what her ‘client’ needed, which was a little bit strange but very refreshing. It hadn’t been since she was a breathing, blood pumping mortal that she had made a piece of art by commission, and it was actually a bit exhilarating. If Eleanor bothered to pay attention, she may actually note that Chandre was blouncing slightly in her seat from excitement!

Word Count: 631

I can work with that. She said, taking a few notes in a little book that she got from... somewhere. She wanted to be sure that her commission went well, it was for a very important person, at least in her opinion. She made a few more notes quickly, mostly about incorporating a few of her other designs into this new creation. One in particular was likely to help out, that being the ‘computer’ she was designing. That, however, meant her commission could take quite some time since she was running into a problem she usually ran into after living in one place too long. Zut. She mumbled to herself, realizing that this issue would likely delay her work for a few weeks. She doubted that Eleanor would mind horribly, the woman up to this point seemed wonderfully polite, and patience didn’t seem like a virtue that would elude her. Still, she had to at least let her know.

Mon ami, I have an issue that may delay what I wish to make for you. You see, I’ve lived here under the university for several months now, and that means two things. First, Shinigami will likely be knocking on my door soon enough. Second, I’m sort of running low on room. These wonderfully vacant halls and rooms are being steadily filled with my experiments and prototypes. Something I would wish to incorporate into your gift would require a room roughly five times this size on its own. She said, her hands coming forward and a sort of dome-like structure taking form between her palms. A miniature version of Chandre stood at the centre of the ‘room’ for scale while what looked like pods connected by neural fibres took form on the inside walls. It took me weeks to find this little hide away, it may take several more to find something suitable. She said, frustrated with this chronic problem of hers. She knew she had to figure out a means to have a permanent domicile, moving like this every few months set her back in her work too much. The unfortunate truth of the matter is that anywhere in Heuco Mundo was likely to be assaulted by her own kind. Any place on Earth would similarly see the appearance of Shinigami eventually, if not some other powered creature with some morally justifiable reason to murder her species whole-sale. Then it struck her, the thought that Eleanor who was a scientist (sorceress? Alchemist?) had experiments to run of her own. While the lady arrancar seemed more than capable of protecting her lab on her own, she obviously felt the place as secure enough to leave unattended. I have to ask, where do you call home?