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Allison presses the end of the cigaratte to her lips then exhales. She revels in the feeling of her filled lungs, holding onto it for a few moments- exquisite moments, keeping everything in- then letting go. She repeats the motion a couple of times until she decides she's finished and places it on the desk behind herself, making sure to put it out. It is, perhaps, not the healthiest of habits, but she doesn't find it in herself to care particularly much. Not when she knows it matters little in the large scale of things, and even less when taking into account her future Rebirth, getting closer every day.
She stares through a window into the forests below, standing at the height of their hidden base; it took a few months to get accustomed to its antique style and old furniture, but Allison thinks she rather likes it now. It fits her and this organization well enough that she'd even go as far as to call it a headquarters. She takes a moment to marvel at how far they've gotten the past few months, allowing herself to feel some sort of pride, shallow as it is coming from her. Phyx has been making steady progress on finding ways to apply this code dialect Allison gave him, and each time she goes into his laboratory she finds herself really believing that it all might just work.
That one day she might be reborn.
There's a knock in her door and Allison doesn't answer, distracted by her thoughts of future plans and evolution. Moments after the door opens and she hears footsteps; she doesn't recognize them. She turns, placing an unreadable mask above her face and raises an eyebrow when she finds the Emerald Priestess standing in the middle of the room, staining the furniture and walls with her predatory gaze. She's careful not to give anything away, not to expose her blood to the smell of the wolf; it'll attract both enemies and allies alike to prey upon her like a weakened lamb. They meet each other's gazes, both with their shields up, both scanning for weakness. It's like looking into a mirror.
"I don't believe I allowed you entry."
“This matter is of the utmost importance.”
Allison raises an eyebrow. “Is it, now?”
Celeste doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been hearing whispers again. I believe the almighty is trying to tell me something.”
Allison stops in her tracks, her mask almost slipping for a few moments. It really must be important if the whispers are directly contacting Celeste after so many years of silence. She perks up, cautiously, though doesn’t reveal her doubts. “Has he shared anything of importance?”
The Emerald Priestess nods, revealing nothing other than what was intended. Allison almost admires her for maintaining her composure. Almost.
“He says that… the time is nearing. He shared the password to a private server,” She says, speaking her words carefully and mechanically. Cold, it seems, because the alternative is fiery anger. Allison examines the priestess, who looks like she wants to say something else; She tilts her head and gestures for Celeste to continue. She does. “It’s called the Klay SMP.”