"Are you a superhero?" she asked him, since that had been her first impression. She looked at him curiously, still dressed in swaths of black, with guns everywhere (which he wouldn't let her borrow). "I'm going to be a superhero. As soon as I get my powers." This revelation seemed to be perfectly sensible to her, delivered with all the aplomb and gravitas of a young child announcing that someday they would be an astronaut or a teacher or a firetruck.
It didn't take very long to travel the three blocks, which resulted in their arrival at an almost empty street. The pavement was dark, and potholes lined the side, but in the center where there were no potholes, a series of geometric circles and lines had been drawn, with small chalk drawings tethered to various points on the circle by little chains drawn of chalk. The creatures, such as they were, moved about idly, testing the lengths of their chains. There was an... alertness to them, somehow - not in the sense of something that was precisely alive, but more in the sense of an automaton - built for a specific task, disposable, replaceable.
The woman at the circle center, on the other hand, seemed entirely alive. She had been crouched at first, finishing up a sketch, but when 2714 and Diara arrived at the street, she stood, though she remained in the circle center and waited for them to approach. Diara did so at a run, stopping short of the circle and navigating carefully between the lines. "I brought you someone! His name is Mr. Masky and I think you'll like him."
Myne Anisele - older than her sister by a good decade, but still remarkably similar in appearance, accepted this statement with calm, her gaze turning over 2714 piercingly, as if searching for something that couldn't be seen from the outside. "I see. Thank you. Please sit down."
"Do I have to sit in a circle?"
Myne did turn to her sister then, favoring her with a smile with a hint of tenderness. "No. Sit where you like."
Diara's "Yay!" was ignored, and she went to plunk herself down at the edge of a pothole, serving rocks to herself and the elephant in what was, perhaps, a tea party.
She considered him with gravity, and added, for his benefit, "You may know me as Protogeometric."
It was an odd phrase, the way she delivered it - it was not a statement of fame, in the sense that he might have heard of her before. No, it was spoken more in the sense of a benediction, that he was being granted permission to know her as such, with the heavy indication that in offering him so much, she was doing him a favor.
The bit of chalk lingered between her fingers, idle, and she remained within the confines of her circle. She was not one to be drawn out of it so easily.