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She lapses into an angry silence.

The truth is, she doesn't know. Kikimora has never been a very forward thinker, usually the person to latch herself onto the aid of others with more grand ideas of her own. Even the few times she was able to do something original, it was cribbing off of someone else's answers.

“Maybe by the time you graduate, you’ll think of something,” Malcolm suggests.

"Doubtful." She mutters, under her breath.

“…Then why do you want to go there?” he asks.

"Must I have a plan to satisfy you, Warden?" Kikimora asks, her fists balling up. "I don't KNOW what is going to happen, but at least I'd be around familiar things and people and animals! I would know the terrain and the smells and just...everything. Titan! Why are you so irritating?!"

“I’m told it’s my primary personality trait,” he admits. “But it’s not an interrogation. I’m just trying to understand you so I can help you graduate.”

"It doesn't MATTER what comes after! I didn't get here through any future planning, I CAME here because of past actions!"

“When you took those past actions, were you thinking about the future?” Malcolm asks.

"I was THINKING about clawing my way up to a position of power and authority! But oh, wait! That was a LIE, wasn't it!"

She throws her claws up, dramatic!

"Because the person I most aspired to be wanted me DEAD. And all my planning and work went into making myself HIS PERFECT SERVANT! So NO, Warden Bright, I do not plan for the future, because it's burned to ashes somewhere in the Human Realm, but at least it's less confusing and isolating than here, where nobody LOOKS like me or acts like me or wants to KILL ME. I don't want to go to a human realm, EVER."

Kikimora has to take a breath here, panting, her face red from effort.

“Do you think it’s possible there are places that are similar to your home that aren’t your home, but also aren’t the human realm?” Malcolm asks. “Alternatively, you could fix your realm. You do get my deal when you graduate.”

"No." She retorts, going to go fix herself some hot cocoa in Malcolm's kitchen. "I'll believe that when I see it. And I...it's too late for this. I don't care. Go back to bed, Warden."

“I don’t usually go back to bed. Would you like to do some yoga with me?” he asks.

"If yoga is a human drug, no thank you." She pulls out a step stool to reach the counter, hauling out a milk carton half as big as she is. Nothing is ever sized right in these places.

It’s what he keeps the step stool around for.

“It’s a form of exercise and… mindfulness.”

She rolls her eyes, pouring the milk with care.

"If it will get you to shut up about it."

"In that case, I'll get a two mats out and you can come over here when you're done over there," he tells her cheerfully.

He does, indeed, go to the cupboard and retrieve two yoga mats and lays them both out in the open space between the living room and the kitchen.

Kikimora finishes making her cocoa first. Damn her warden for getting her to like this stuff, she can't get this back in the demon realm.

She clutches her mug, walking over and experimentally prods the yoga mat with her chicken foot.

"Do I need to change clothing?

He glances over. "Is that clothing comfortable and stretchy?" he asks.

She's wearing a t-shit that can fit a ten-year-old, going down to her knees. It has a train on it.

"It's stretchy." The train is a bit much.

The train is the best part.

"Then it's perfect."

He props his phone up on the credeza under the window, which the yoga mats are pointed towards and stands in the middle of one, looking to her to do the same on the other.

She sighs, but sets her mug down beside her mat to copy her warden in his stance.

The phone plays a soothing voice instructing them when and how to breathe, and then tells them the name of a pose in a different language. Malcolm moves into downward dog, like the lady on the little screen, still following the breathing.

Kikimora copies appropriately. Her limbs aren't long enough for a lot of things, so certain poses give her trouble. When she inevitably collapses, she takes an angry bite out of the yoga mat and sets herself up again.

"This is foolish."

“It feels that way at first, but the more you do it, the more relaxing it becomes,” Malcolm promises with a laugh, rolling up onto his knees.

This part is at least easy. She settles down in the same position, palms on her thighs.

"I am not relaxed."

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