<b><span style="text-decoration: underline">Rift Lab</span></b><br/><br/>Sleep weariness had it advantages. Meguri was only just awake, and Skippy natural-overexcitedness crashed against her empty and dazed expression like a wave upon a rock, falling apart before it's unmoving foe. The kitsune's ear twitched while her brain tried to process any thought at all, her body mindlessly reaching forward and accepting the half-goblin's idea of a healthy breakfast. Her mind gave way, throwing it arms up in surrender as Meguri chewed on the fried fish without really tasting it. Instead, the fox girl operated on instinct and habitual protocols.<i>"Work? There's a few things on the agenda today."</i>Which for Meguri, meant all science.<br/><br/>Joining Skippy and Takara at the latter's makeshift desk, Meguri joined the two in looking over the vibration patterns. Smaller than both of them, the Kitsune didn't really look like the lab's lead scientist, at least by appearance.<i>"I think you're right, but could you compare... these peaks here and here with the readings from last week's rift?"</i>The main thing that set Meguri apart from the other lab members (which was mostly just Takara and Skippy and the occasional volunteer or apprentice) was that the foxling had an unnatural instinct for rift affairs. Usually it manifested in a hunch or feeling, but most of the time this hunch of hers was proven true. Not even Meguri could tell you WHY she had this affinity though, but it was an immense help seeing that the lab lacked the funds, notoriety and people other research labs in companies had. This was practically a backyard garage project more than a lab.<i>"If there's a similarity, then we visit that park we talked about later on, the barrier there might be weak enough to tear and cause a Rift."</i><br/><br/>With her two assistants now given work, Meguri returned to her own desk and sat down in front of her computer only to stare without any mental recognition at the information displayed on her monitor. "Whisper?" She whined, looking pleading at the nearby Cheshire cat, who only sighed as he went to make coffee.<span style="color: Plum">"One cup of coffee to wake the fox up, coming up. You want one too? Takara-dear? Skips?"</span><br/><br/>The lab's coffee machine was one of two at the shelter, and far more battered and beaten than it's grander cousin at the kitchen. The coffee it churned out was often black, bitter and thick, but few complained about that. After all, the old hand-me-down provided the toasts to the Fallen. It stood on a table next to an open and gutted cupboard, whose interiors had been gutted to make room for the many candles, paraphrenia and photos that adorned it. The little shrine started out as a joke, but sometimes, when someone dies in a Rift, which happened dishearteningly often, people would forget about the dead person, as if they were torn from reality. Items are left behind though, which is why this cupboard exist.<br/><br/>Homage to those that did not come home, before each Rift mission, there's a toast with that black thick coffee, and everyone leaves someone at the shrine cupboard. When every hunter's back safely, everyone recovers the item left at the shrine. Everyone except the dead and forgotten, and so does the cupboard's contents slowly grow.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>