Which is when some of the ground-based Emergency Services personnel tackle him.

"Hey, sir, are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

"I — the alien's quarantine, but my tea —" he responds vaguely, looking forlornly at the tea shop from his position on the floor of the alley.

"Ah, okay, I think I see what's happening."

The mediator rolls off of him and offers a hand up.

"You know that you shouldn't be here?"

He nods.

"I know. I just thought that if I ... or I didn't really think this far ahead. Is there a big fine?" he asks, sounding kind of uncertain.

"Not too large, but there is a fine, yes," the Emergency Services worker explains. "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to lead you over to the temporary area where we're keeping other people who tried to get into the area. I'm going to ask you a few questions to establish your identity. Once we have your identity, we'll send you follow-up paperwork about how to pay your fine or how to make an appeal in the mail. You're entitled to help managing that paperwork if you need it. Then I'm going to call you a cart, which will take you to the hospital to be given a checkup and stay in there for a little while just as a precaution — we don't have any reason to expect that there are dangerous pathogens or that you've been exposed, we're just being very cautious with potentially completely unknown diseases."

They pat him on the back.

"Does that sound reasonable?"

Volharmi gives a jerky nod. It's not how he wanted this afternoon to go, but now there has clearly been an emergency or similar unexpected occurrence, and he has a procedure to follow in response to it.

"Yes, mediator. I ... I understand."

"Okay, great. Come this way, please. Is that your phone you're wearing? I can get your contact information off it if you've set it to be accessible ..."

Above them, on the rooftops, the paintball gunners have reset and continued scanning the area. Most people in the city (and across the world) are handling first contact with grace, excitement, and poise.

For everyone else ... well, þereminia has had thousands of years of practice dealing with a particular kind of person.

The alien is probably hiding in her personal pocket dimension, if Diplomat Tatenika is right, which she frequently is.

(The fact that Weiss has a personal pocket dimension has caused some amount of envy among the staff.)

So now the Emergency Services people finally have a chance to get caught up. A few minutes after Weiss leaves, things calm down a lot. A bit later, things have reached a holding state. A lot of people go off shift, and sleep in dormitories set up in the commandeered buildings inside the perimeter. Other people double-check the supply caches, food, and other preparations. The Director of Smaller Continent Emergency Services puts out a global press conference with an update.

And a very serious person in thin vertical gold and purple pinstripes listens to Diplomat Tatenika's explanation.

"I see why you want to bring this to our[ex] attention. I will send a secure update to the Body, and remain available on-site."

"Thank you, inspector."

She stands, and makes her way toward the back of the tent.

"And now, if you'll excuse me — I'm going to go rest myself, until our guest returns."

She hangs out in her little patch of Woods, hugging her own tail and feeling like an idiot. Like a zoo exhibit. Like a criminal about to be shouted at for impossible to foresee mistakes and transgressions.

It feels like none of this is going how it's supposed to. Really, her mistake was not being invisible when going through the rift... She could have had fun and explored, if there wasn't immediately a Big Fucking Deal.

Or was it? Can she really say that she made a particular mistake at a particular time if she didn't have a plan or knowledge coming in? And video games are exciting, and there might be TV shows and fanfiction and-

-And something something the value of silver collapsing and fucking up peoples' savings, and maybe whatever abstract follow-on improvements come after don't come for the poorest soon enough. It's not like she has a clear picture of economics. Just a vague notion that it exists and involves supply and demand and maybe a stock market.

Gods. Illumine, I hope this mess turns out okay. Otena, help me see to the heart of things. Hekosi, we're tiptoeing on the precipice, can you see?

The gods do not answer her. Usually. Today, she gets - A hug. A smile. A firm nod.

That calms her down. Haah. They're real, she knew that, but knowing and knowing, huh? And if they're usually quiet, they're mostly just respecting her wish not to get too involved...

All you can do is your best. And she is being responsible, distributing warnings so people don't get themselves killed by a Runner or a Slickling or a shard of darkness and hatred. She doesn't have to be the blazing statue radiant, shining with burning light and holding the sword aloft. She's no Galasa. After all, the comet's tail is a result of it slowly, inevitably burning up... She can just be a fox, or a girl, or a foxgirl, sometimes. And cry. And nap. And play vidya. And that's fine.

Everything's fine.

Weiss takes after Tamamo. She can be having fun, and then cry moments later, and then be over it just as quick. Mercurial foxes indeed.

...She's kind of pissed about the price she got for those silver ecu, though. The scrooge is strong within her.

She'll... Not try to take a nap again, it doesn't seem that much more likely to work now than it did before, but instead she wanders the interior of her Woods and tries to find the place deepest inside her that leads Home. It's still there, far away but reachable, an escape and return if she ever tires enough to walk it. Then she paces the edge of her Woods and starts feeling around the metaphysical surroundings, the Spirit World.

There... Almost isn't one. Just a whisper thin possibility, faint streamers leaking in from the Rift. A hint of potential, the scent of deepest sleep that might not ever awaken, and only that much because of her, and because of the rift's touch. Huh.

And if she goes - sort of up again, further dreamwards where time and space and material have even less hold... There's only her, and the rift, warbling and fizzing at the edges. She could go through easily enough from this half-real place in the Spirit World. That's what kitsunes do. But she shouldn't go back to Tirra just yet. Not without explaining. And getting trade goods.

...A terrible curiosity strikes her, and she has to poke it. Can she even make it more solid, more real? It's like normal dream gateways in Tirra's healthy, awake spirit world, but ten times louder and brighter. Reaching out to nudge it feels like trying to touch a hot stovetop: Something tells her to not. But she's going to anyway. Just... Not directly. Instead, sort of... Form a sort of energy net to drape over it and... Tug at the edges a bit... WOAH NOPE STOP that wobble looked kind of dangerous.

(In the material world, a distorted low warbling tone sounds in the air in the bank lobby for five seconds before trailing off)

...She needs Megi and Tessa and Sinnah to attempt this. Sinnah, at least, will love this place, it seems like a great opportunity for making money. If they tolerate her absurd bluntness.

She'll reappear somewhere very close to where she disappeared soon after, looking slightly sheepish.

The street isn't empty — there are still a few people walking up and down it on various errands — but a lot of the hustle and bustle has calmed down. This is now a temporary structure setting in for the long haul, not being rapidly constructed.

The table is still where she left it, although Diplomat Tatenika has left. Instead, a person of indeterminate gender is doing a slow martial art near the table and listening to an audiobook.

(þereminia doesn't believe in forcing people to stand around doing nothing, when they need someone to wait.)

When Weiss appears, they straighten up and tap their phone to turn the book off.

"Hello, ma'am," they say, because they haven't learned Notal honorifics, but Đorvat feels too awkward not to include any honorific at all. "It is good to see you. Do you want I to get Diplomat Tatenika? Or some food? I am, uh ... my right-now job is waiting for you and getting things for you. Or talking! But I am not a Diplomat, so my talking is, uh, not the best."

Đorvat is fairly certain that leaving a relatively junior and unskilled staff member to wait for Weiss is a statement of some kind. But, at a certain point, everything Diplomats do is a statement, and arranging for someone else to be waiting here would presumably also be a manipulation, just in a different direction. They've pretty much resolved not to worry about it and just focus on their job. They don't have enough experience to choose a specialization yet, but this will probably look great on an application to specialize as a Mediator.

If they don't offend the alien.

"-Hi. I talk to Global uhhh guy?" Here's a patch of pinstripe like UN inspector or whoever he was was wearing, displayed on air.

Ðorvat nods.

"Yes, we go this way."

They lead her into the tent, and over to where the GMSB Inspector is sitting at a desk and writing in a notebook in their exceedingly recognizable suit.

Shavolhan stands as they approach.

"Good to meet you, Weiss. I am Inspector Shavolhan, of the Global Minimum Standards Body."

Srsbsns mode. "I think I am supposed to tell you about the thing I talked to lady Diplomat about, and how to see when people are doing bad things with them. May I do a magic thing to make it so only you can hear?"

Shavolhan nods gravely.

"Yes," they agree. "And I will keep it private except from the GMSB."

Baffle. It looks like a slightly gray blurry sphere around them, partially intersecting floor and ceiling. It muffles everything to white noise.

"The fragments of the dark gods have cursed and poisoned the land of most of the world of Tirra. It is very dangerous to live outside of cleansed areas, and civilization there is generally limited to hunter-gatherers. Priestesses of the light gods can feel dark god influence most of the time. So can kitsunes and some sorcerers. There are wizard spells that can detect dark god power as well. If a person has dark god power on them, they might be affected by an - Incorporeal," she remembers that word from the game, "Monster. Or they might be doing dark god type magic, or they might have cursed objects that might combine into worse monsters and eventually combine into a dark god. There are ways to conceal dark power, but all of them that I know about will fail under a close and careful wizardry scan with the spell called 'Purity Array'."

The inspector nods.

"Are all cursed objects ... Do they all combine with each other? Or are there different kinds? Are there things other than cursed objects that make dark gods?" they question.

"...I am not the one who knows the most about this. I think all cursed objects, creatures, and places can combine. There are different kinds. Mostly they only do it on their own over a long time. But people who do cursed magic can do it faster. They are very dangerous. There is a thing that happens sometimes where a cursed magic user goes into the wilderness and gathers a lot of cursed energy there and then comes back very strong. The light gods warn the inquisition when that is happening. -There is an organization associated with the light gods called the inquisition whose job it is to look for cursed magic users and cursed objects and break them."

The inspector writes this down on their notepad. If Weiss happens to see it, she'll note that it appears to be in a completely different script than the other writing she's seen around here.

"If we put a 'Purity Array' at the rift and are very careful, will that keep dark god fragments out?" they ask. "Or can the curses, uh, leak? Go without a person or object taking them."

"I know you want to be more sure than just me saying things but I am at least four in five sure that curses won't come here anywhere except the rift... Priestesses of Erius are happy to work for just money as long as the work isn't- Law breaking? Or hurting people? I think money and trade is holy to them. Also I just thought of this, but sometimes even ordinary people not doing magic or being a kitsune can feel cursed energy. I've heard it described as - knowing something is a bad idea, or a place feeling unhealthy, or a place feeling too quiet and still, or a bad taste and feeling on the skin, or a place feeling angry and resentful..."

They record all of this as well.

If they just announce this information, lots of people are going to start spontaneously imagining that places around them are cursed, which sounds disruptive. Maybe they can recommend to the Body that they release a set of different similarly-vague environmental descriptions as part of surveying for any magic already present, and see if there are statistically significant correlations. That decision is well above their head, though.

"Thank you. Is there other things you want to tell us? Or questions I do not know to ask, about this?"

"I'm trying to think of them... This is pretty important. Oh. A bit more about cryptids than will be in the book. Each is unique. I've fought... Eeeeeleven? Eleven, yes, and you can guess that each will have at least two obvious magic abilities, two subtle ones, and one 'ace in the hole', something hidden and unexpected. An example would be being physically tough and throwing fire as obvious things, and being able to move faster when on fire as a subtle thing, and being able to paralyze people with a look as an ace in the hole. There is usually some kind of thematic link to things Cryptids can do, but the worst part of fighting them is not knowing what they can do. Also, Cryptids are mostly people smart if not very people shaped in their motivations and reasoning. Smart enemies are the most dangerous kind. I will absolutely fight monsters that show up here. But you know, you want to do it yourselves, good on you."

... if some of the monsters are people then this whole situation just got a lot more complicated.

And it raises questions about whether the laws around genocide — the kind of thing they're here to ensure are observed — should come into play or not.

They sigh and pinch their nose.

"If cryptids are people-smart, can they be talked to? Paid to not attack?" they question.