Olympic Contact

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Who: Minervamon, and you
What: A visitor, with something to say
Where: HospiTown
When: January 15th and 16th, 2013

Around noon, a figure walks into HospiTown. She is short, probably the size of some of the younger kids, and she carries a sword.

Rather, the sword drags on the ground, as she walks with grunts and injuries. When she reaches the Hospital's doors, she drops it, and she half-sits, half-leans against the building. An Agumon approaches her, one who works there, with shock and gasps.

"Don't be surprised," says the Digimon, Minervamon. "I'm not gonna cause any trouble. Could you tell the Chosen I'm here to talk? I owe them that much, and, well. I'd rather not barge into your fine establishment."

She grins weakly, and the Agumon, in a daze, rushes inside. Moments later, an announcement goes throughout the Hospital, via a PA system: You've got a visitor, and it's a God! She's here to talk, Minervamon's here to talk!

She chuckles. Well, that'll get some of them out, but maybe with more of a fuss than she wanted...

Comments

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Her mouth forms into a line. "You would do well," Minervamon says slowly, "to watch who you insult, and make it someone other than Venusmon."

She straightens. "You'd have to ask members older than I. I don't know who the last member is. They often worked separate from the rest of us."

[hatefully]

Unmoved, Forte looked at her. Pardon him for not trusting any of you at all and for having trouble understanding why the strong would side with the likes of them without an ulterior motive. "Is that so? I'll keep that in mind."

Biyomon's feathers were standing on end, not enjoying the tension even though Forte's glaring had silenced him for a bit.

"... Hn. I see."

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Minervamon melts back to that uncomfortable calm; there's something beneath the surface, a clear unpleasant feeling, but to all appearances, she's...civil. She tuts with her tongue and rolls a shoulder.

"Yes, that's that. Anything else I can do for you?"

[hatefully]

Fight me, is something Forte would like to say or one of them, but he had no powers and no GetAbility Program. Stupidity would get him nowhere and it wasn't the point right now anyway. He'd gotten the main questions he'd wanted of the little blue-haired Digimon answered, and even some unexpected information on the side: there was no need to press the matter. "..."

He gestures with one hand.

"... Yes. Is there anybody in this world who is acknowledged as the strongest?"

Awfully simple question, for all the vague way he phrased it.

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Instead of focusing on Forte, Minervamon looks at his partner. Her eyes can't be seen from beneath her helmet, but it seems she's saying-- she's asking something.

Maybe warning.

Addressing the Chosen, she replies, "Not a single Digimon. Jupitermon would say himself, others would say other beings. There's no 'strongest' here."

[hatefully]

Biyomon, next to Forte, his loud beak for once silenced by the new experience of feeling the levels of tension in the atmosphere, nearly jumps when Minveramon focuses on him instead of Forte. But he mets her gaze evenly at first, then quizzically at the... question she was asking him? The warning? He couldn't decide which. (Why would she ever need to warn him of something?)

???

The moment passes without commentary from the former NetNavi.

Forte scowled, disgruntled. "... Hmph."

With that, he turned on his heel to leave. The bird Digimon hesitated, looking at her.

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With Forte's back turned, Minervamon's face relaxes into a full smile. She mouths something to him.

It's "Watch him."

[hatefully]

Biyomon stops.

He blinks before relaxing enough to let his own smile hesitantly leak back through onto his mouth. He nods.

Then the bird Digimon snaps a smart salute, attempting to convey the return sentiment of 'will do,' and took off in the direction of his Chosen, leaving Minveramon standing by herself again.