Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Yes and no," Kyouya said thoughtfully, with a glance at the aforementioned dome. "We do use solar power as part of the heating system for the water, but overall, it's still less efficient than regular electricity. It's a good supplement, and we've been keeping on top of the developments in the field, so as soon as something comes up that works more efficiently, it'll be installed."

Did he detect that note of depression? Hard to say -- Kyan was good at putting on a cheerful yet wry expression, and although Kyouya was familiar with her, he'd noticed how variable her moods could be. He considered for a long moment. "If you want, maybe we can sit down and go over it at some point -- not for what you're doing now, obviously, because it's already under construction. It never hurts to think ahead, though, and we could discuss second-stage or second-facility plans." It was an honest offer, but he couldn't resist adding, "Though that should probably come out of your points, of course."

He made a soft noise of agreement. "They're supposed to be unobtrusive, so that people can just focus on relaxing. It works for the most part, though there are always some paranoid parents. Hence the uniform, even though it's not extremely obvious."

Leaning against one of the railings, arms folded, he surveyed the box. Questions like this were not ones he liked to answer -- they defined him too tightly, bared too much. "Difficult to say, really. I don't generally compare myself to insects," he demurred lightly. But that soft deflection would only hold for a moment, to give him a chance to deliberate over implications. "That one," he settled on, after that moment's thought, pointing with a long, slim finger. The chrysalis itself was simply average-sized, and a neutral brown that blended it in with most of the others -- but it shook with a fierce determination as the butterfly inside struggled to release itself from its confines.

There was a soft beat, before he said matter-of-factly, without quite looking at her, "Analogies can be entertaining, but I find that they can be too limiting. They capture a facet, but never the full nature, and operating on them can occasionally cause significant misunderstandings, if the analogy is only partial." A very carefully played moment of true candor; he wondered if she understood the message. I try not to limit myself with shorthand; it means I could make mistakes.

That moment of seriousness evaporated, though, with one of those calm smiles. He shot her a sideways glance at the compliment, perhaps just a little bit flattered, with a touch of self-deprecation underscoring it. "Thank you. I'd like to think so." Considering her selection, he observed lightly, "And you, taking a moment to gather your strength before stepping out into the larger world. A wise choice, preparing before facing the unknown."

He let the silence lapse, quietly observing the butterflies as if mulling over a more complex idea that they'd offered him, until she spoke again. "And if it isn't?" At this point, he did turn to look at her, challenging her assumption just slightly. "What will you do then? Do you have a contingency plan?" The corner of his mouth quirked up. "We can discuss that too."

A fleeting, sharply amused light flicked into his eyes, and was quickly extinguished -- just what had he found so funny? But he simply said, with quiet assurance, "With the proceeds from the first stage of your venture? I'd find that acceptable."

"Hm. Lazy? Lazy would be never bothering to emerge at all," Kyouya countered lightly. "Death from stagnation, ne?"

He knew what he'd meant by the larger world -- after high school, after college -- some of that was predictable, some of it was not. While Kyouya prided himself on taking the long view, he was all too aware of the large number of unknowns awaiting him, even if he did have a name and reputation as support. Where would he be, outside the shelter of his family's wings?

Still, he mulled over her response about the business, and her reasons, for several heartbeats before responding. "Only about the challenge?" he asked. It was indifferently said, but there was something of steel underneath it, try as he might to guard it from view. "Interesting. That seems so ephemeral." Those dark, grey-brown eyes shifted back towards the glass-fronted box. "Much like butterflies, I suppose."

He was half-poised to answer that half-asked question, but when she cut herself off, he did as well, and returned her smile with that calm one of his. "No need to apologize. I was interested. And of course, the tour continues." Though he had noticed it was just the two of them at this point, the others all having wandered their separate ways.

He offered his arm to the birthday girl. "Shall we?"

"It's an imperfect analogy, as they all are," Kyouya pointed out, apparently unfazed by the tension. He might even have been expecting it, especially since he hadn't managed a perfect cover of his emotions. Given that she'd faced off with him, he leaned back against the railing, giving her his undivided, razor-sharp attention. "If all that holds you is challenges, how does that differ from a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower in search of its next sip of nectar? True, with their pollination, fruit might set and seeds might grow, but none of that is done because the butterfly wills it. It is merely a happy side effect."

He shrugged easily, no obvious mockery evident, though that calm voice grew even calmer, if possible, perhaps drawing strength and a subtle resonance from that indirect articulation of his own beliefs. "I believe I'm the last person who can argue against the thrill of the challenge," he said levelly. "I certainly have enough of my own." He smiled softly, glasses only partially obscuring his eyes. "I simply don't see the point in doing things only because you can. There's no profit in that long-term, just short-term satisfaction. You fritter away your time and energy chasing from flower to flower. What do you have to show for it?"

The balled-up fist did not escape him. Good, I've gotten her attention. Whether or not Kyouya would end up with a black eye for his pains -- he doubted it would be anything further, as his bodyguards were always to hand -- was a question he'd soon have answered, he supposed.

"For what, and to whom?" He repeated her questions as if confirming with mild disbelief that she even needed to ask. Rapid calculations flashed past before he answered, with careful, deliberate neutrality. "I suppose you wouldn't need to ask that question if the answer were obvious to you. Then again, assuming your statement that no one seems to care is actually true, perhaps that makes a certain amount of sense."

"I take it you've no plans to build a legacy for whatever children and grandchildren you might have, or for whatever interests you to perpetuate it, and no interest in leaving an enduring mark on the world when you're gone. There's no benefit in that to you?" That last question was hardly one at all, but very nearly a statement, demanding she contradict him.

There was a soft beat as he let it sink in, and let her draw her own conclusions. Push.

He glanced around the butterfly garden, surrounded by the interlacing of so many small potentials. Everything here was carefully selected and intertwined to bring forth as much of its capability as possible -- and yet here in front of him was an ongoing mystery. Why? There were so many undertones to that question.

"As for what you're supposed to do, I don't believe I can answer that question for you. It isn't my place to tell you -- or anyone else I'm not paying for a service -- what to do." That calm smile reappeared, though something in the matter-of-fact nature of his tone indicated that he was still very much taking the conversation seriously. "But I'll admit to being curious. If you're truly unconcerned about supporting your lifestyle at this point, what will you do with the rest of your potential?"

Kyouya was not one for sharing his own thoughts -- at least, not easily. If she followed his train of thought, fine, and if she didn't, that wasn't unusual. He was generally ahead of everyone else anyway.

But her answer to his question simply floored him, egoist though he might claim to be. If she didn't understand the drive, the need to constantly create, improve, excel, and then share the product of that drive -- well --

There really wasn't anything he could say.

He'd limited himself before, staying inside the frame crafted by his father and brothers, trying and failing to satisfy that drive by being the perfect model of a third son. With Tamaki's help, he'd broken that limitation, felt the world in his inexperienced grasp, and known that he'd be able to do anything if he chose it. It was pure exhilaration and a life-changing moment -- as if it were the first breath of pure air taken by a drowning man.

That she even had to ask the question of who else could use her prowess, her assumption that no one else would care or have no use -- it was a fundamental difference between the two of them. He had no such qualms. Perhaps he was actually egotistical to the core -- he knew that anything he undertook would matter to someone, even in a small way; it was his will, his choice that the things he did were the ones that mattered. Other people did not determine his value to them; he determined his value to them.

Kyouya had no words to explain it to her, and the complexity of emotion that accompanied it -- disbelief, shock, sadness, disappointment, and a touch of impatience at the profound waste of her obvious intelligence and talent -- were too much for him to handle at once. He fell back into silence, visibly controlling his expression.

But apparently something he'd said had gotten through. Perhaps this conversation hadn't been a complete disaster, though he hadn't intended to upset her quite like that. ... Well, perhaps he had, if she truly hadn't been thinking, he amended to himself. Something, anything, to get her to think in broader strokes than just what surrounded her moment-to-moment.

He detached himself from the railing and walked over, pausing just at her turned-away shoulder -- a quiet pillar of confident strength, though still somewhat bemused at that underlying difference. "Are you all right?"

Kyouya waited as she went through her emotions, still quiet, still remaining at her shoulder, rather than forcing her to face him as well as herself.

"You can," he agreed, and there was no trace of mockery in that calm voice. It was completely sincere, and -- oddly enough for one who showed so little emotion most of the time -- somehow firmly supportive.

His glasses flashed momentarily, but only just, and cleared again. "That didn't mean I didn't deserve it," he pointed out. "I'm a host, and this is my family's resort. The last thing I should be doing is making one of my guests uncomfortable. I apologize."

He paused at the question, then offered her one of those quiet smiles. "To the beginning of the conversation, or poolside?" Very gentle teasing. He took her free hand, and set it in the crook of his arm with a soft squeeze -- possibly the closest to a hug that the Ootori boy would allow himself. "Perhaps both?"