Knock, knock on the door. The vixen is standing behind it, occasionally shifting her eyes from the door to the wall behind her and back. She was planning to have a discussion with Paelyn about Len's rather.. odd psyche, but it seems that something more important has come up. For she'll recognise Len's handwriting anywhere. "Paelyn?" she asks, tapping the door again. "It is me, Lanya.."

The door opens slowly, and Paelyn slips casually into view from behind it -- ludicrously advanced legbrace still in it's place, arm still in sling. With his glasses hanging from the top pocket of this bizzare new ensemble, he has time to blink not once, but twice, before replying to Lanya with that annoying sense of complacency he's developed. "Good afternoon, Lanya. You're well? Everybody?" Small talk from Paelyn, certainly signs that change is on the way...

Well, Paelyn's not the only one who's blinking. Lanya, too, finds herself rather startled. "Well, yes, we're very well, but, um.. your wall." she stutters, pointing at said wall. "I don't think those words are supposed to be there, are they?" Dripping from it, in red paint - or a red something else? are letters, words, Len's handwriting: If the enemy knows where you are, don't be there. Lanya throws a questioning look towards the Primarch.

Curious, is he. Paelyn limps out of his doorway a single step, turning to take a look at whatever it is that's managed to keep Lanya from coherent speech, and there it is. He stares at it, even tilts his head to see if he can get a better look at it; the outward appearance is one of a Primarch entirely unfazed by the information at hand. But... "I think," he says after a while of thought, "That I will be staying right where I am. It'll all be the same once I'm six feet under." A shrug.

"Somehow.." the vixen states, pulling herself back together, "I don't think she's talking about you.." She half-stumbles, half-walks towards the wall, running her hand over the letters, then holding it in front of her face. She chokes. "I thought.. Nighteyes made it stop. But it's Natara all over again.." Not aimed at Paelyn, not at anyone in particular, but thinking out loud.

And another shrug escapes him. "No, no I quite think I'm the enemy this time, if this has happened before." Slowly the Primarch steps foward, and runs his hand down the surface of his wall, taking it away and staring at the dripping red there to stain his fur. Contrasted green blinks at it, before returning to the wall -- a few spots, carrying a greater message. The whole is greater than the sum of their parts. Or whatever it was that DeValera told him. She's up to something. "This should prove a most /interesting/ week."

The woman turns around to face Paelyn, and then shakes her head. "She's not talking about /you/ as the person that shouldn't be here." Then she looks away, her eyes closing slightly in response to some forgotten memory. "Last time it happened wasn't pretty.. But it wasn't Kern, either. Something must've happened, besides what you did.."

"What /I/ did?" Instead of a great raging speech about his total and indisputable innocence in the matter, Paelyn merely tilts a brow, visibly wondering exactly whose side of the story that Lanya's more interested -- some guy she met with Len, or... Len's. "Well, whatever happens, I'm /not/ leaving Luna..." He trails his claws across the brace on his leg as a pointer just as to why, the hand raising unconciously to his face, touching lightly against his lips. Hoo boy. "What next," he murmurs, a blissful smile on his face as he asks the immortal question, "What next..."

"If only we could find Kern.. or Bird. They'd know. But I have no idea where they are." Lanya focuses her own, pained eyes on Paelyn. "You might've known her for a while, Blaquerocke, but you still haven't got the foggiest clue, have you? What's happened before this.. God, I wish that Natara still lived, it would've made this a whole lot easier.." Nervously, she begins to fidget with her hair.

He just stares back, the epitomy of blank and bare, calm and plain. There are a few things that being comfortable with the notion of death can do to someone, such as developing a great chasm of Just-Not-Caring in the psyche. "If only." The blank expression melts to a rather grim smile, the wolf still rubbing the red between the pads on his fingers. "How much time, how many killed, for all the 'if only's' that have been uttered... She's a blank dossier, Lanya. A gap. A huge lacking in the files. No, I have no idea what you're rambling about, but I sense that you will soon tell me, or I'll be dead, in either case it will not matter."

The vixen's eyes turn angry, her old days as a pirate playing up again in her mind. "Listen, Blaquerocke, this /isn't/ just your sorry ass we're worrying about here! Last time, Natara /died/, and Len went NUTS. People were killed because of it, you selfish *prick*!" Oof. Strong language from Lanya.. "Listen up, smartass. There's only been a few people in history who ever truly understood her, and I'm afraid I don't rank with them. Bird, Kern, Nighteyes when he wasn't being brooding, Natara, and.." She pauses, her thoughts suddenly coming full-circle. "My god. We have to find Terryn. Right away. He's the only thing I can think of.. If we manage to convince him, it might just work.."

The expression cracks after a few seconds, into one of utterly perplexed disbelief. Paelyn's eyes wide, he just stares at the vixen as if she had gone as mad as Len -- which he full well believes she has. "You..." With first a smirk, he bursts into a fit of laughter, doubling neatly in two and collapsing onto the ground, "You're fucking /mad/! Terryn?! Those two will kill each other before they do the slightest thing to help each other. 'Oh, Satan, Jesus needs your help with something...'" A flash of black coat and he's back on his feet, fists held taut at his sides, the abyss of actual emotion thrown open all at once. "She's going to kill me, she's going to kill just about whoever she comes across, and then consider yourself lucky if she doesn't kill you! Because the fact of the matter is that we all die, that's how things change. And she's change, Lanya. Len is /Chaos/. She's that fucking weird thing that makes plants rot, people age, and stars die out... Inevitability! She's coming, and there is /shit/ we can do about it."

The woman simply shakes her head. Shakes, shakes, shakes that head and looks at him with so much pity that it's nearly tangible. "You foolish young Primarch.." Lanya states, looking him dead in the eye. "Len was right. Twenty-five, and yet you've never learned a single thing about life. Len and Terryn, whether they like it or not, are a whole lot more alike than any other two furs I know. Terryn might be a /moron/, Paelyn, but at least he's not /stupid/, unlike yourself. I'm sure that you would've left Len alone there on Oceania if you'd found her five years back and knew of this. But I wouldn't have. She isn't a little kid anymore, and as little as I understand of her psyche, I still understand a whole lot more about it than you ever will." She begins to walk away. "Threw your life away.. For such 'superior beings', there's only been two of you that I know that have actually /done/ something with life."

"/STOP/!" His voice cracks pleadingly, hands held out in front of him uselessly as he licks at his lips in thought, trying to turn her around. Trying just to /talk/. Trying to be in the same room as someone and not be stupid, trying everything at once, just /trying/. "Don't leave me, don't go, don't... Don't..." Screaming blue murder, he throws his hands over his head and collapses to his knees, trying desperately to seek the calm, to find that spot he had where nothing mattered, and failing. Failing again, failing as always. "Don't LEAVE ME! I don't want to be alone, I don't, I don't... I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I want to fix things, I want to be better, I want to be like /her/, I want to help, I don't want to be /alone/."

That pity back in her eyes, and she turns her head, just once, before she leaves the hallway. "Do you know what our worst curse is, and yet our greatest blessing? To be ourselves. Even in the dark. Maybe you should learn what that's like." And then the head is turned back, and she walks around the corner; footsteps echoing over the ground, but Lanya is gone, leaving Paelyn alone with the lettering on the wall: If the enemy knows where you are, don't be there..