Remove ads

This Is Your Only Purpose [Destiny] [Alt!Power]

Reader mode
Remove ads
Honey
  • Threadmarks
    • Honey​
    The "roof" of Lisa's house was a grassy knoll. Rose sat beside it, leaning against the sloped surface toying with a blade of grass, twisting it between her fingers and putting stress onto it, each fiber tearing as she exerted strength until it snapped altogether. Her mind felt clearer with more sleep, even if hunger cut a twisting edge through her guts, working its way up through her throat.

    "She could have killed us when she found us," her ghost said.

    Rose didn't look at her ghost, flicking the piece of grass away and plucking another. "How long was I out?"

    "Days," her ghost said. "I was out too, for much of it. I was drained. I could barely even move. If you'd died, I'm not sure I could have rezzed you. She took us here, you were feverish, kept burning up, and I gave her necessary information."

    "You sounded like fast friends, from what she said. Had you looking at mites?" Rose asked.

    "She keeps an apiary of genetically modified bees. Wanted to talk to you about them," her ghost said. "She sounded lonely. Or was just eager to talk. Hard to tell, but she had no end of questions."

    "About?" Rose asked, braiding two blades of grass together and pulling until it snapped as well.

    "I kept information about you to a minimum," her ghost said. "She respected it, but wanted to know about the City."

    "What did you tell her?" Rose asked.

    "I showed her recordings. If she wants to leave, she'll have to do it soon," her ghost said. "But..."

    Rose didn't engage, looking up at her ghost.

    "You're no fun," her ghost said. "She said she bears us no enmity."

    "What else did you find out?" Rose asked.

    "She's very particular with the wording she uses," her ghost said. "But makes no objections, and engages in no wordplay or weasel words regarding our safety and assistance."

    "Do you think she's lying?" Rose asked. "Or do you think she's being very careful to avoid lying?"

    "From what I've seen, my conclusion is she's avoiding lies. Any deception is by omission," her ghost said. "This along with prior interaction while we were at our weakest implies we are safe while here, and she will take no action against us now or later."

    "She's had every opportunity to kill us," Rose said. "Why save us?"

    "If she turned us in, it's unlikely she would have been rewarded," her ghost mused. "Or perhaps she values what we can offer now or in the future. Favors to trade?"

    "I don't get any feeling of the latter," Rose said, brushing off her green-stained hands. "The former seems more likely. I'll ask."

    Her ghost bobbed a nod in response.


    It was a mixture of preserved items and pristine. Toast with honey, smeared with rendered animal fats. Oatmeal. Fresh peaches. Dried fruits, nuts, and meat. Lisa placed each item onto a plate and put it before Rose, providing another mug of tea.

    "Eat slowly," Lisa advised. "Take your time."

    "Thank you," Rose said. She ate. The richness of the food was overpowering. She opted for the oatmeal, taking slow bites and chewing before swallowing. "Why do this?" she asked. "Are you hoping for me to return the favor someday?"

    Lisa laughed, lacing her fingers and resting her cheek on the entwined fingers. "No. I have ulterior motives, but they don't involve you."

    "Do you know the man or the Devils who took over the City?" Rose asked.

    "Not personally. Let's trade questions," Lisa said, curling one hand into a fist, to continue resting her head upon, taking her other hand and pressing it over her heart. "I pledge not to use this against you. What do you plan to do once you leave?"

    "I want to take back the City," Rose said. Her brow furrowed, and she turned her tea mug in circles, watching the steam rise from it. "I'd need people. Weapons enough to fight them back. It couldn't be a protracted conflict."

    "Fast and brutal assassination," Lisa said. "But how would you get close? I'm sorry. Your question."

    "What do you get out of helping us?" Rose asked.

    "A great deal," Lisa said. "Even if I gained very little, from what your ghost has shown me, it's in my best interest to help, and point you in the right direction. How would you get close?"

    "I don't know," Rose said. "Sorry. It's possible I could find someone to usurp their Kell. Or to ally with other Eliksni houses. By turning them against one another, but the amount of resources I would need to introduce any form of uncertainty-" she trailed off, thinking it through. "Why are you interested?"

    "I'm a voyeur," Lisa said. "I wouldn't mind watching what you do and how you think it through. You're fighting against your own Light, as well as the entire world of tyrants. On one hand, underdogs are rooted for, the redemption story, the slow climb to victory. But how do you execute this steep climb? It's a sheer cliff. That's not my question."

    "What is your question?" Rose asked. She'd finished the oatmeal, and started in on the peach. It was overripe, messily dribbling as she bit into it. But it wasn't oversweet, and she finished it in short order.

    "I'd like to show you something and get your opinion, after you're done," Lisa said.

    "That wasn't a question," Rose said.

    "I'll wait for you outside," Lisa said, a smile spreading across her face. "Take your time."


    "Coltsfoot," Lisa said, bending to show Rose a flower. It was distressingly yellow. "It's an invasive species, introduced long ago." She straightened and continued forward, keeping her pace slow enough for Rose to keep up.

    "Why was it introduced?" Rose asked.

    "Medicinal properties," Lisa said. "Poisonous if prepared incorrectly, and can cause tumors. But it spread far enough under the preconception of being helpful."

    "Is that what you're hoping to do?" Rose asked.

    Lisa laughed. "No. Good one. No, there are other plants and flowers in the area, and these are accessible for the bees I'm taking you to see. Doesn't cause cancer in them."

    "An apiary," Rose said.

    "Did your ghost tell you about it?" Lisa asked.

    "Something about genetically modified bees," Rose said.

    "Yes," Lisa said. She bent down again. "This is white clover. Do you want to know about it as well?"

    Rose shrugged.

    "Where's your sense of wonder?" Lisa asked, letting out a melodramatic sigh. "It's right over here."

    The apiary wasn't anything large or ostentatious. A small series of boxes.The bees themselves were the same kind Rose had seen in her room. The buzz they made was almost pleasant.

    "My question is this: What were these bees intended for?" Lisa asked.

    "Is this intended as a lesson of some kind?" Rose asked.

    "No," Lisa said. "That comes from discussing the bees themselves. Both hymenoptera and other eusocial species. I want your opinion because this specific debate is one open to interpretation. These bees were engineered centuries ago. They were made with a specific purpose in mind, but the product resulting was applicable to several scenarios."

    "More lazy archaeology?" Rose asked.

    "Exactly," Lisa said, reaching over to one of the bees and picking it up. It didn't resist, and didn't sting her. "But let's call it more of a discussion."

    Rose kept quiet, but gestured for Lisa to continue speaking.

    Lisa allowed the bee to crawl up onto the back of her hand, stepping closer to Rose and showing her the bee. "The public perception of bees is of a hive."

    "And this isn't true," Rose said. "The majority of bees don't participate in a hive." She dutifully leaned forward, examining the bee. It seemed to have little to no fear of the contact. After a few more seconds, it flew off.

    "Correct," Lisa said, "very good. They have extremely good publicity. Many are solitary."

    "There were mason bees in a town I visited," Rose said. "No honey, but they pollinated."

    "A perfect example, although particularly vulnerable to brood parasites," Lisa said. "But these bees are eusocial. They have distinct altruistic traits, encouraged by their evolution, and further modified by Golden Age scientists. They produce honey. Many bees don't have very effective stingers, and these have had them removed entirely. They do not continue to feed royal jelly in a large enough quantity to produce additional queens, alongside other constraints meant to cause a particular type of sterility despite the queen's lifespan being enhanced. They do not stray far from their hive, unlike honeybees. With all these factors in mind, what do you believe their purpose was?"

    "Why the fixation with bees?" Rose asked.

    "They're a microcosm of caste systems alongside an examination of what evolution incentivizes," Lisa said. "The evolution of prosocial behaviors and altruism through coin flips across billions of years coming up heads. By other options being less viable, until they were more viable."

    "You're making comparisons to Warlords," Rose said.

    "Did I say that?" Lisa asked.

    "You're putting out an example of a colony," Rose said. "One incapable of defending itself from real outside intrusion. Survival of the fittest versus cooperation."

    "There's an excellent discussion topic," Lisa said. "Was it survival of the fittest when these bees were altered to favor a more altruistic bent? Or was it further cooperation? It certainly wasn't evolution. All the coin flips were thrown out a window. They are now completely reliant upon outside assistance to continue their existence, no longer possessing the ability to continue their lineage. They have ceded their right to exist."

    "Iron Lords and the Lightless?" Rose asked. "Or is this still about Warlords?" She stepped toward the hive, extending a hand. Insects alighted on her arm, and were just as easily shaken off. "Or just the Risen. Humanity wouldn't have survived without the Risen. The Eliksni houses were intent on wiping us out, or at best apathetic to our plight, having gone elsewhere. But now humanity is trapped with the Warlords who want to break and utilize what's left. There's no choice available to them. If the workers of this hive left, the queen would die. She wouldn't be capable of surviving for long."

    "True," Lisa said. "These bees are a much happier, kinder example, making it all the more tragic. Through the unification of your Warlords and these Devils, they have done what they were incapable of alone. Cooperation isn't necessarily a positive connotation."

    "The Warlords held little regard for the Devils," Rose murmured. "Beyond their use as shock troops, technology, and munitions. I saw them kick bodies aside, laugh at their dying comrades." She stepped around the hive. "What was your assumption with these bees?"

    "There are multiple possible answers," Lisa said. "I'll let you know my thoughts when you touch on one, because I don't want to poison the well."

    "A space project," Rose said. "A hive with a short range, with long-lived brood and an inability to breed while being docile. Some form of colony ship, meant to head to other worlds or stars. A new brood escaping into vents or other areas could be catastrophic."

    "Like an autoimmune disease for the ship," Lisa said. "Or maybe an allergic reaction. A good guess. Such an inhibition on brood development would also aid in controlling changes to biology based on low or zero gravity, or help in the case of unexpected changes. This many bees would entail a large ship, potentially with an open area to traverse. Limited gravity would likely be necessary. Solitary bees would be more efficient pollinators, and traverse zero gravity better. If these bees were used, it would be better as an attraction. You could go and see bees, living animals, with no risk. Maybe a park, or an open orchard."

    "Sounds idyllic," Rose said. "I answered your question. Why are you doing this?"

    "I like finding answers," Lisa said, walking toward Rose. "I enjoy seeing the desire, the thought process behind each decision. The bees are a convenient vehicle to step back and examine, a mental puzzle. Why were they made? Who chose to make them in this manner, because they were artificially created, with an intent, not in the same way nature clumsily and shoddily put humans together. Why do you struggle, and what is the intent behind it?"

    Rose's gun snapped into her hand. She didn't aim it at Lisa, but kept it at the ready.

    "Your man with the mask seems convinced he is correct," Lisa said, taking another step closer to Rose. "You are just as convinced he is wrong, and this is because of what reasoning? Just because he took it by force?"

    Rose lowered her gun, then shook her head. "Why should I talk about this with you?"

    "No reason," Lisa said. "You don't need to justify yourself."

    "Justify?" Rose took a slow breath through her teeth, stepping back, away from the hive. "He, and others like him, caused untold deaths. He killed defenders of the City, he murdered my friends."

    "Then why weren't you strong enough to prevent it? You want control, and to control, but you don't want to be in control. Why? You have an aversion to it. You don't want to be the cause of something," Lisa said. "You want to stop others from taking advantage, you want to be a force of judgment, and also judge yourself absurdly harshly."

    Rose's free hand curled into a fist. "I think you should stop talking."

    "Or what, you'll burn me?" Lisa asked, an impish smile on her face, before her expression went back to deadly serious. "You don't like bullies. You want everyone cooperating, but you don't want power going to the wrong people."

    "It can't," Rose said.

    "And there, that right there," Lisa said, taking another step forward, and poking at Rose's face. "That's the face of someone who's all tied up in their own Gordion knot, convinced she's the only one who can solve it."

    "Are you going to solve me?" Rose said, keeping her tone deadpan.

    "No," Lisa said. "I'm just provoking you to see the root of the problem. To peel back your desires and wants."

    Rose caught Lisa's hand by the wrist, twisting it to the side. She paused, looking Lisa's face over. "I've asked you again and again why you're doing this. You keep acting beneficent, then prod me. You attack me, try to provoke me. But you're also pushing me away. Why?"

    Lisa's lips pulled back into a smile more akin to exposing her teeth. "I care about you in some capacity. You're interesting to unravel, and I could make a hobby out of you. But I'm not as interested in helping you as what helping you provides me."

    "What does it provide you?"

    "The first part is nothing you'd be interested in," Lisa said. "The second comes back to the bees."

    "You can't be serious," Rose hissed.

    "Everything is a test," Lisa said. "The ability to survive is paramount unless you don't need to survive to perpetuate your mark on existence. You getting upset without bursting into flame is a good sign. You're improving physically speaking, but it's worrying your anger and Light were so closely connected. It not only indicates it might happen again, but also a reinforcing of such a link. I would guess it's not only happened before, but repeatedly. Anger is better than sinking into grief for continuing on, but it's like adrenaline. The eventual burnout is much worse. I'm sorry."

    Rose let Lisa's wrist go, and Lisa stepped backward, giving Rose a small, more genuine smile.

    "Talk to your ghost," Lisa said. "Discuss your options. What you need to do in order to give yourselves the best chance of success. Then we'll talk again, and no matter the results of our discussion, I'll give you the information you desire. No strings attached."

    Rose didn't know how to feel. In a way, she missed combat, where answers were easy and based on moment to moment decisions of life and death. But here, she felt lost. Lost in a way she hadn't in a long time, if ever. There were feelings of cloudy warmth, wrapped in familiar frustration. Conviction with sudden doubts. Contradiction after contradiction, with no way to navigate. She pressed her face into her hands, feeling the cold steel of the side of her gun against her face. "Ghost?" she said.

    "I'm here," her ghost said.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Huh, Lisa becoming a beekeeper is rather ironic given her relationship with a beekeeper in a previous life. Neat stuff, I'm very interested in Lisa's other motives and what she's going to do with the new info. Glad Taylor isn't in involuntary self destruct mode anymore.
     
    Lisa knows and is still connected to Negotiator.

    I think she's trying to get Rose to remember, or maybe to reconnect with Administrator.
     
    Now I wonder, are Shards and Entities like the Vex; the result of the Flower Game? The Vex may have been the final product but who's to say where those that came before went off to?

    I mean c'mon, they're both pseudo-crystalline entities whose consciousness is a combination of millions of tiny parts (radiolaria and shards), both think along the lines of logic, both have a thing for experimentation, and above all, they both have a borderline obsession with an all-consuming cycle/pattern.
     
    Lisa's here to cause problems on purpose* and Rose is not having it :V

    *or solve problems on purpose
     
    Remove ads
    A Dipper of Honey
  • Informational
    • A Dipper of Honey
    Rare Consumable
    A metal spoon, delicate and decorated, filled with sweet amber honey, the only remnant of two artisans: one insect, one human.
    The anecdote of civilization is a quote on kindness. A broken femur creates an opportunity to leave someone to die. To repurpose their remains, scavenge their belongings or take their position of power. Helping them is costly. It is not a single act of kindness to do so, it requires continued, harsh support. Kindness again and again, helping each other survive. The wound must be bound, the injured must be transported, the injured must be fed. They cannot be left to fend for themselves. And in the bones of the dead, you can see the mended injury, the idea of community through sustained kindness. Civilization begins through helping others through difficulty.

    Humans, after all, are fragile.

    Survival of the fittest is not what humans are capable of. Survival of the fittest creates a violent, brutish planet, with no room for weakness. But weakness is not only an inability to fight, and evolution is not some arbiter of strength, pruning the unfit. A natural disaster can snuff out billions. Evolution will not save them, and by nature is random. If your goal is to breed the fastest to optimize your genetic material and its throughput, it is not in any manner an elegant solution. Furthermore, there is no guarantee of success.

    Your picture of a lion and his harem of lionesses do not showcase the reality, only the photogenic majestic pride in their prime. They suffer parasites both external and internal, infection, disease, cancer, and the inevitable result where the lion dies. It is picked apart. It dies alone, pitiful and incapable of hunting for itself. Weak and pathetic, torn apart piece by piece. You attribute nobility to these creatures because of their strength and not their weakness. They practice infanticide on the children of unknown parentage. It is simply more efficient to kill the babies. The nursing mothers will not be open to the advances of males. Mothers will abandon their children as well, when a single cub is left, or the cub is injured or sick. They are left to die. It is better for the mother to have a large litter to give the children the best chance of survival.

    This strategy is not uncommon, and often comes with cannibalism of the young. It reduces competition. It improves the chances of survival.

    Rodents display this habit, as do birds, insects, monkeys, and many others.

    It is natural.

    In this vein, I present a modest proposal:

    You are weak, and deserve death by the natural rules of the universe. Your continued survival is a cancer only derived from the kindness of others. This is not unique to you, but to the entire species.

    Humans break down. When faced with great mental trauma, they bend, snap, and require effort and treatment to repair. Even still, they will bear scars and difficulties as a result of it. When they are grievously injured, their survival often impacts their quality of life. They are incapable of feats most consider child's play without great effort. Recovery from these ailments does not require a single kindness or a band-aid, it requires immense effort. Kindness after kindness after kindness, with effort put forth from both parties, both the injured and the carer.

    And still, they may not reach their former capabilities.

    I am speaking not from a point of condescension but simple, painful truths. Survival of the fittest means mass death. It means what is natural, and what is natural should be terrifying. It is a morass of complexities resulting from the Cambrian explosion, diversity boiling down to a singular cruelty wrought through the necessity of survival.

    When apathy and cruelty win over kindness, the result is clear. Those who are incapable are left behind, and kindness is a less viable survival strategy. Defecting is much easier, much more profitable for continuing genetic propagation.

    Of course, this is all meant to persuade you. You can take this to mean anything you want, but I am acting in her best interest. Why, you ask? What point am I getting at?

    We'll get to it.

    Let's discuss another Iterated Prisoner's Dilemma strategy, defined by optimism, and successful through kindness and forgiveness.

    It is called Tit-for-Tat.

    It is a simple strategy, and one defined as "nice." It offers cooperation first. If they accept, cooperate and continue to cooperate. If they do not, do not cooperate. It is remarkably simple, and resists many attempts to solve it. In fact, it grows more successful when incorporating the potential for forgiveness. By allowing the opportunity for others to cooperate even when they have defected, it grants the potential to benefit both parties.

    It is resistant because of how it functions against those who cheat the system. Because it is simplistic and reductive, it immediately punishes those who attempt to sneak their way through, and if they continue to do so, the system turns against them, and they are shackled by their own attempts to get away with it. These are closed systems interacting with one another, so if one runs this strategy with a small percentage chance of attempting to defect with an otherwise cooperative stance, it can enter into a loop. Both sides resort to defecting, and through this, it results in a standstill.

    But with forgiveness, errors can be made but not necessarily destroy any attempts at cooperation. This is imperative. It is not an invincible strategy, and we will discuss this later.

    The reason why I bring this up is simple:

    The fight between Light and Dark is an ideological war.

    The Winnower insinuates the natural state of the universe is the struggle to exist. This is the only state possible, and any attempt to dam this sweeping wave is not only foolish but a blight upon existence. The argument is presented: Is not the best way to improve yourself through combat? Are not the most technological advances through military means? We improve ourself by one blade against another, for the grindstone of the universe is war.

    It ends the same way because it could never end any other way, for the only way is to kill or be killed and to go on killing until something kills you and proves you unworthy of existence.

    The Gardener's argument is this is boring because the metagame is solved and the Vex always win. The Vex grey goo their way through the universe and through their infectious might assimilate and coopt every possible opposition.

    My argument is thus: Humans are better off with the Gardener no matter her inclination. You will live longer, and this is proven through the laws of the universe, because you as a human are incapable of surviving obliteration. QED. You are incapable of fighting the enemies out there in the cold dark, and must resort to the tumorous plague of kindness, the forbidden art of trusting each other not to slit one another's throats.

    Acorn Woodpeckers do this. They shove eggs not their own from their nest until everyone nesting has laid. By not trusting, they break a lot of eggs, and make no omelettes.

    What does this have to do with Taylor?

    Nothing, Taylor Hebert is dead, her corpse rotted away, and her bones no longer bear the marks of those who cared for her and helped her heal, and those who wanted her dead. She is a different person, and only embers remain of what once was, flaring up and guttering out.

    But while Rose is her own person, she is still beholden to the past, both Taylor's storied history and the harmful legacy of others.

    She is vulnerable now. Injured both in spirit and body, her Light an unreliable ally even if her ghost is a steadfast friend. In danger of dying before Lisa saved her. If she hadn't been plucked from danger, she would have been captured by the masked man and his Chosen. Even now, he uses his position in pursuit of a greater good he believes can only be fulfilled by him.

    Rose would have been placed upon trial for her crimes against the new City. She would have died. Even if she had escaped, she would have been unstable, a roiling ball of resentment and anger, flames rippling from her skin, unable to hide, hyperthermia caused by her own abilities.

    Suffering with no meaning, no breakthrough, just anger spiraling into anger, resentment, self-hate, spite, and explosive tantrums. Justified, but unhelpful, and detrimental. A reinforcing cycle leading nowhere but down. Such a cycle can only be corrected through wanting help, and it is a boon for someone to help them.

    This particular scenario requires an expert. Unfortunately, many Risen are incapable. They fumble their way through their Light just as Rose did, a lack of a mentor forcing their Light to be forged through hardship. And many Risen who might been capable of helping, who might have possessed the inclination and understanding necessary, are dead.

    And so, it is beautiful, is it not?

    I have shown you a pustule of kindness, an egregious affront to the Winnower's desired dictates. We have inspected every sickening pus-filled abscess together. It is rot and loam. Rose is weak. She should have died, and given way to the strong. Her altruistic sacrifice defined her as weak, despite its nature as an explosive tantrum.

    She needs help to learn. She needs to accept the indelible marks made by her former self, even if she isn't responsible for them. She needs the help of others more experienced than her, who are less altruistic than her, because they did not die fighting the City's battles. This will take time.

    And for all of these things, she requires [kindness], repeated again and again. This gift cannot be taken by force, only [given].
     
    Last edited:
  • Informational
    • I do love how you write these 'lore' entries, they're great. Might need someone to explain to me the importance of the []'s though. I vaguely recall that being entity speak? Or is this another wish dragon dealio.
     
    Is the darkness, while most of the time all the darkness do is TAKE it can give too, this time it is giving Taylor a helping hand not because any type of kindness, it is doing it just to show how much the Travelers light is a mistake and that the Masked man is a crusader of the light too, a mistake even bigger than Taylor need of kindness to survive.
    Taylor is overheating, she will need something to cool her down something cold and unforgiving, something like stasis.
     
    The Grim Squeaker said:
    I do love how you write these 'lore' entries, they're great. Might need someone to explain to me the importance of the []'s though. I vaguely recall that being entity speak? Or is this another wish dragon dealio.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    It's a thing in Destiny lore too. Been a while since I trawled the lore but as I recall it's used in manners like this:
    Article:
    If you cannot hide yourself, you must make them blind.

    There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [you cannot find me].

    Take up the knife. Breathe the blade. Take your new shape.
     
    Has there been any mentions of Exo Stranger being in this fic, because it would be interesting to have her not be of this post-Bet time-line and digging around wondering what the heck is going on here.
     
    There's also an interesting parallel between the Taken and Guardians, one has been Given the gift of finality by Taking everything, and by Taking all that one once was they have been Given everything again.
     
    Ringed in Spears said:
    Lore
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    My first reaction to this was that it reads like a Savathun entry, but then I realized it also reads a bit like something different. Like the echoes of the Traveler, and echoes of Light, the ones we often found in quests in D2 red war to get our powers back, and Forsaken to discover the new aspects.

    Except, while those were pieces of larger speeches, *just* enough to lead us along in our quest, this feels more complete. I don't know what else to make of this, but I do know that Light lives in all places, in all things. You can trap it, you can try to block it. You can steal it, and you can try to corrupt its power unto itself. You can even be blessed with it and use that blessing for ill. But the Light will always find its way.

    Caiuz said:
    Has there been any mentions of Exo Stranger being in this fic, because it would be interesting to have her not be of this post-Bet time-line and digging around wondering what the heck is going on here.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    *CONFUSED SCREAMING INTENSIFIES*
     
    The Grim Squeaker said:
    I do love how you write these 'lore' entries, they're great. Might need someone to explain to me the importance of the []'s though. I vaguely recall that being entity speak? Or is this another wish dragon dealio.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Generally, in Destiny lore entries, words in [] brackets are substitutes for paracausal or impossible things. Like a previous poster said, the Taken (sort of anti-guardians who are empowered and used as soldiers by Oryx and later his sisters) were introduced by type with their new power described as a knife shaped like [you cannot find me] (Fallen captains that can throw a blinding/depowering orb) or [sideways] (Hive Thralls who randomly strafe teleport) or [not alone] (Hive Acolytes who can summon a biomagical turret independent of them). Beyond that, when the Darkness itself talks about its relationship with the Light, their metaphysical (and eventually physically metaphysical) debate is couched in terms of a [board game] where moves, pieces, strategies and eventually patterns (or the winning pattern aka the Vex) are simplified into []bracketed words.
     
    I think this entry may have been a little too long and self-indulgent - it doesn't really belong as an item descriptor given the specific references like it's talking directly to Rose. IMO, it kind of reads more like @Ringed in Spears explaining things than any of the characters in the story. I think this segment would be better if it were tightened up and assigned one of the actual in-story voices.
     
    Path
  • Threadmarks
    • Path​
    Rose's ghost waited for her to speak.

    Rose started, then stopped, then started again. Her throat felt dry, dusty chalk lining every word. The words she tried to form sounded petulant, even when she tried again, begrudging, annoyed, teased out from a great depth. "We-" she said, and then fell silent again.

    Her ghost stayed silent. Rose held a little fragment of spite for her ghost's silence, even though she knew her ghost was only being patient. Anger came easily, bitterness seeping out. She dropped her revolver, looking at her hands and breathing, trying to quiet her own inner turmoil.

    "We need help," said Rose, feeling slightly feverish. She pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to focus. She licked her lips, cracked and dry, waiting for her ghost's response. A response didn't come, and more words spilled out. "I could've done something. I didn't-" She felt her ghost alight on her shoulder, resting there, and Rose fell silent.

    "The way I see it," her ghost said, "is you've always done whatever you can."

    "If I could just," Rose said, her hand going to her side, gripping a handful of grass and tearing it from the ground, scattering the blades to the wind. "If I could just do more."

    "You have power," her ghost said. "But you keep pushing yourself."

    "If I don't, others step up," Rose asked. The bitter taste spread to the back of her throat, and the feeling of nausea grew. "Dean, Rebecca, Tarlowe, Efrideet, all dead."

    "It's not sustainable, and you need time to heal," her ghost said. "You can't beat yourself up over this."

    "Want to bet?" Rose asked, letting out an exasperated huff. "We've wasted enough time as it is. Every second we waste here..."

    Her ghost flew off her shoulder, floating in front of Rose's face. "You keep treating yourself as disposable. The more you push yourself, the more you break down. The less you're capable of doing, and until we find out why, you need to be careful."

    Rose glared at her ghost, her jaw clenched, fingers curled into fists before her shoulders sagged and her fingers unfurled. "He's going to spread," Rose said. "He's going to consolidate and fortify, and this is one of the few windows we'll have before he's protected."

    "But the chances of you doing anything are not only infinitesimal, they're not happening. Our Light is still recovering, and you're hurt. You need the time to recover to have a chance later. You can't browbeat me into going along with what you want, I know you, Rose." her ghost's flaps spiraled around. "You need to wait, because you set goals you can't achieve. You keep pushing and pushing."

    "Because that's the only way to get things done," Rose said, keeping her voice steady. "It's the only way we'll ever make progress against…" she gestured in the general direction of where she thought the City was. "The more they get to dig in, the more difficult it'll be to remove them. Warlords will flock to their banner, alongside other Devils."

    "Then we have to find other allies," her ghost said. "You can't fight this on your own, no matter how much you want to. It's not possible, and you shouldn't be considering it. You knew you couldn't win against the masked man back then, what's changed now?"

    Rose fell silent.

    "We need to find allies, and we need to figure out what's up with your Light," her ghost said. "Do you not agree?"

    "I agree," Rose said. "So there's no need for the leading questions."

    Her ghost let out an amused chuckle, floating back to her shoulder. "I say we reach out to the other Eliksni houses alongside the Iron Lords. Maybe even one of the legendary Warminds. It'll be an arms race."

    "SIVA," Rose murmured to herself, regretting saying the word as soon as she'd said it. "It could be a devastating weapon. Or one of those mechanical monsters we faced down in the vault."

    "We could find other Golden Age artifacts too," her ghost said.

    "Other Eliksni houses would be…" Rose hesitated. "They've attacked humanity too. They aren't innocent in the slightest."

    "Agreed," her ghost said. "But if the option came up, would you take it?"

    Rose wasn't sure. "I'll think about it," she said, looking at the ground.

    "Most of the forces who defended the City will have taken significant losses, if they weren't wiped out entirely," her ghost said. "We need alternatives, and a team who can either destroy the ketch, or enough firepower to do so."

    "I know," Rose said. "I don't want to… I don't want them to have a hold in the City. I don't want Warlords to have a hold in the city. Giving those who attacked others power, I don't see any way of it ending up different if it's allowed. We need to be defenders."

    "What do we have left to work with?" her ghost asked. "We're not going to find many who support this level of altruistic vision. They'll want some guarantee of control. We don't have many options who have the numbers or the tech. Any who do are likely to be guilty in one way or another."

    Rose stared at her knuckles, tensing her fingers into a fist. "Then who do we give power? Someone always wants it. Whether it's the man in the mask, or others who'd abuse trust."

    "Maybe we can find and talk with Rasputin," Rose's ghost said. "The greatest Warmind of them all. And then he'll solve everything."

    "You sound sarcastic," Rose said.

    "Well," Rose's ghost said, making a back and forth motion with one of her shell flaps. "I'm a bit cynical about our chances of finding enough people to help us. The best I would hope for is encouraging some splinter factions of Warlords and Eliksni. Maybe find converts, or…"

    Rose nodded slowly.

    "I don't like it either," Rose's ghost said.

    "It's just as likely they won't take it," Rose said. "There's so little to gain and so much to lose. It's not in their best interests."

    "We'll figure it out," Rose's ghost said.

    Rose didn't say anything. She sat there, rubbing the green-yellow smeared across her fingers. The tides had shifted. Cynicism and selfishness had crushed kindness, proven it weak and fallible, delicate against their assault. The best among them, dead. The worst, thriving. She stood, brushing herself off, staining the shift with her hands. "Yeah."

    "Things don't look good right now," Rose's ghost said. "But we'll find a way back. One step at a time."

    Rose closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out. "Yeah," she said again.

    "You know," her ghost said, as Rose began to walk. "I thought the bees would be the project of a Golden Age executive. Something he delegated other people to procure."

    "Mhm?" Rose said.

    "The concept of a private little garden with its own self-maintaining habitat with living custom made bees, their stings removed," her ghost mused. "It seemed more like the habit of someone who wanted a perfect environment. Solitary bees would make better pollinators, as Lisa said, and… sorry. There's a few other possibilities."

    "Go on," Rose said, reaching up a finger and poking her ghost. Her ghost spiraled her flaps out in mock-anger before settling down. "It's interesting. Just considering our options."

    Her ghost went on talking and Rose listened as she made her slow way back to Lisa's den.


    Lisa smiled as Rose entered. "Welcome back."

    Rose placed her gun on the table, pushing it away from herself and toward Lisa.

    Lisa picked up the weapon, inspecting it with dispassionate expertise. "A very nice gun, but too heavy for my tastes," she said. "Does this mean you're willing to listen?"

    "Tell me," Rose said, spreading her arms out, staring down Lisa. "What do I need to do to fix this?"

    "Oh, that's not my job," Lisa said. "I'm going to direct you to someone who can help you manage your condition."

    "Manage?" Rose asked.

    "It's a hop and a skip away from here," Lisa said. "You'll have to avoid some patrols, they're starting to batten down the hatches on the regime."

    "You didn't answer my question," Rose said.

    "And I won't," Lisa said, stretching languorously, yawning mightily.

    Rose stared at Lisa.

    "Are you expecting me to break under pressure?" Lisa asked. "To snap like some twig?"

    "You've been very helpful," Rose said, struggling to express gratitude through irritation. "And I still don't know what you got out of this or what you wanted from it."

    "Good," Lisa said, leaning forward and gazing at Rose with lidded eyes. "You know, it's been entertaining."

    "For you," Rose said wryly, sitting down.

    "For me," Lisa agreed, pushing the gun back across the table. "You're really trying to be better than the others. Driven in an almost deterministic fashion, despite your status as a Risen."

    Rose scooped up the gun, rotating the cylinder. She wanted to make some reply, but didn't know what she wanted to say, or quite how to say it. It was more of a sensation, frustrating familiarity again, this time going back to the feelings she'd had at the very beginning. "I have to be better," she said. "We all have to."

    Lisa hummed, a noncommittal noise. "What do you think you were like in your prior life?"

    Rose looked down at the revolver, her finger tracing the pattern on the wooden hilt. "I don't know. Whoever she was, she... I don't know how much of her I am, but there was a sensation."

    Lisa's fingers interlaced, thumbs twiddling. She said nothing, just waiting.

    "It was close to regret, but more of a desire to change," Rose looked up from the gun, and Lisa's eyes were staring at her, coolly, unblinking. "It's hard to trace motives back. My rez wasn't the most comfortable situation, and the ensuing days were chaotic."

    "Understandable," Lisa said. "But it, and the ensuing events, forged you into someone else."

    Rose shrugged. "Am I? I could just be running in circles, making the same mistakes, just on a different scale."

    "Almost inevitable," Lisa said. "Microcosm turned macro, and we'll see how it all pans out in the end."

    Rose made an annoyed sound of assent.

    "So impatient unless you're on the hunt," Lisa said, walking her fingers forward and flicking a small piece of metal across the table. Rose stopped it from going off. "I have a target for you. It's a group of mercenaries. Was. Past tense."

    Rose examined the object. "It's a data storage unit ejected from a mag-hack," her ghost said. "It has coordinates and information."

    "They fell apart from the main group, and the main group is off-planet," Lisa said.

    "Off-planet?" Rose asked.

    "They made a bargain," Lisa said. "With another Risen who claimed there were great threats to humanity's existence on Mercury."

    Rose didn't bother to state her argument. There were threats right here, but maybe they hadn't expected it. She was starting to look for enemies in every encounter, and the association bothered her. "These Risen didn't agree with the main group?"

    "I can't tell you," Lisa said. "But I do know their general location."

    "What guarantee do I have they can help me?" Rose asked.

    Lisa's smirk showed teeth. "None. But you don't have a choice."

    Rose took in Lisa's words with a slow nod, then stood. "Do you want to come along? You said the new regime is closing in, and they might find this place."

    Lisa shook her head. "I'll have to pass. Try not to die."

    "You too," Rose said.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top