WhoAmEye
Bunker-Dwelling Cryptid
- Location
- Vault Birb
- Pronouns
- She/Her
But the important question is: Does Marika count as Campy?
(Un)Happy Family [Worm/Elden Ring]
- Thread starter WhoAmEye
- Start date
- Mature
Okibruez
(Verified Mid-Boss)
- Location
- Dreams
That is the real question, you're right.
I actually can't tell though.
Maaaybe? The gist of her proclamation to the Tarnished as she exiles them from TLB is somewhat camp. However, she is but an amateur in the ways of Camp compared to Sir Gideon Ofnir (the ALLLLLLL KNOWING!). What a sad state of affairs.
I mean, between what she does as both Marika and Radagon kind of points to her having her High Drama dialed up to 11, and High Drama is just camp taken seriously. Plus look at her first husband, and tell me that HORAH LOUX, WARRIOR didn't leave her any camp in the divorce. That man had camp to spare.Maaaybe? The gist of her proclamation to the Tarnished as she exiles them from TLB is somewhat camp. However, she is but an amateur in the ways of Camp compared to Sir Gideon Ofnir (the ALLLLLLL KNOWING!). What a sad state of affairs.
Nay, that isn't camp, that is Legend imo.
4.3
WhoAmEye
Bunker-Dwelling Cryptid
- Location
- Vault Birb
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Damsel of Distress knows exactly how to attract the attention of a protagonist: ARSON!
Special thanks to prime beta Lucky38, Canon Overlord @Ganurath, @hellgodsrus for being my loveliest wife and co-author, and @SolarFlare for being our wonderful supportive girlfriend! And our many friends on the Totally Chatting It discord for their fantastic livereads!
Enjoy and gib feedbacc!
Dangerous woman hot!
I suddenly understood what Dad meant when she said she saw Mom laying waste to her army single-handedly and immediately decided to marry her. It was weird though, because the woman wasn't hot in a conventional way - she would have been emaciation levels of thin without those rough muscles, her dress was loose and shapeless, her hair matted despite its shockingly bright colour.
But something about the way she stood was just…
Though I had to ask. "Did you just use the 'did it hurt when you fell from heaven because baby you're an angel' line on me just fancier?" I might have mixed that up but - damn, I couldn't even be mad if she had, because - well. Dangerous woman hot.
So. Y'know. The exact opposite of what I wanted when I tried to take a walk to clear my hormones out of my head. I was meant to come out of this less of a mess, not even more of a mess because this twig of a woman half my size emotionally loomed over me like a - a - really hot woman. Fuck.
She cocked her head, her bare hands oddly still. Her fingers were long and pale, but now I looked closer, it looked like something was wrong with her right hand, some of the fingers bent in a way fingers shouldn't bend at rest. "I have no need of 'lines' right now. Unless, of course, you're here because you've seen my works and wish to stand by my side as I crush my opposition."
And hear the lamentations of their women, or something. "I uh. Saw the damage, saw the fire, and got concerned it might rage out of control." The offer to stand at her side was a tempting one, but I knew it wasn't my rational brain saying that. Fuck. Was she a vampire? I was getting this urge to offer her my neck.
"Mm." Something about her posture tensed a little at that. "It will not. I have no desire to burn all the merchandise." Merchandise. Right. Villain. Dangerous villain lady hot! "But I needed to send a message, and nothing hurts fools more than their bottom line." Idly, she kicked aside one of the unconscious gang members, a smooth arc of her booted foot into his face, leaving it bloodied and leaking against the ground. "So. Are you with these… Skels? Or one of the other groups of this city."
I raised an eyebrow at their name, hoping to distract myself from the hint of leg I'd seen emerging from under her dress - skirt - thing - whatever. "Haven't heard of them before," I murmured. "And, ah, no. I'm an independent actor. Empyrean."
Slowly, a smile spread across those pale lips. "Empyrean. Truly."
"The one and only." I hope. Really should have checked to see if anyone had taken that name but it wasn't like I had time to check while coated in gore and killing Nazis.
"I have heard of you. Even though you are a hero - " and I could hear the derision on that word, " - you have… actually done me a favour, of sorts. Though you did not do it deliberately."
"Oh?" I - all I'd done was kill Nazis and stop some human traffickers, and she didn't seem like the kind of person to enjoy the ruckus of a gang named after morning boners. But if it was the Nazis - potentially she was gay too? Yay?
"You hurt Accord." The way she said the name was so flat and indifferent that it was harsher than if she'd snarled it. Ah, she must be one of the people that was coming into town because Lung got Caged. "That earns you at least some of my respect." With a kind of careful, slow precision, she folded her arms behind her. "I am Damsel of Distress. Soon to be ruler of this city, then this country, then the world."
I wanted to ask how she planned to do that, even if her power was the one that just - removed chunks of buildings like I'd seen outside, but then I remembered Dad had basically ruled the Lands Between with brute force being the only thing to back her up until she was on the throne.
"So, once you're ruling this city, what are your plans for it exactly?" I leaned on a mostly intact countertop. Or desk. Whatever. "Because while I am a hero - though I'm not entirely certain the government would call me that - I just plan to help people."
"I might as well ask what your plans are for helping people. Is that not as lofty and broad a goal?"
"Maybe, but in this shithole of a place I can do that by going out and punching the Nazi infestation." I grimaced with a small shrug. "Running a city on the other hand… that… well, kind of requires some logistical thought behind it." Things weren't exactly getting hazy, but the smoke from the drugs was kind of irritating my nose.
"This is a different line of argument than heroes have tried with me before, but to answer your questions… while day to day operations could be handled by servants with such skills, my rule would initially focus on secession, establishment of new culture and laws, and preparation for continuing my conquest. Any further details I am unwilling to share with one who may prove an enemy to my cause." Her smirk pulled back onto her face. "Unless, of course, you were willing to swear obeisance here and now."
"Tempting, but I'll have to decline, sorry." I bowed my head just a bit. "But hey, you'd have to be actively trying to do worse than the current people at the top. I'll wait a bit and see how your rule works out before tossing my hat in the ring. Bit too many obligations of my own to see to at the moment, you understand."
She inclined her head, the smirk slipping into something a little cooler. "Of course. And should I expect a visit from any colleagues attempting to trick me into prison?"
Victoria wouldn't try tricking her into prison, and Ranni probably wouldn't care either way - hell, Dad would probably offer her advice - "No. I don't think any of them would be trying to trick you into prison. A fight, maybe, but nothing underhanded like tricking."
"Then you do not know heroes well then. A pity you count yourself among their number."
I held up a hand. "I said I was a hero. The Protectorate? PRT? Wards? I've seen what they do - or rather, how little they do. I wouldn't call them heroes."
"Little." She gave a contemptuous scoff. "Before I was able to evade them, they harassed me day and night, pretending at kindnesses while their officers doubtless waited to arrest me. No doubt at news of my burgeoning rule, they will be set after my scent again. That is another law of my city I am willing to share with you - any of them found in my city will be lucky to escape merely being hung by their thumbs."
I glanced down at the floor, keeping her oddly still shape in my echo-vision. "Are the commoners going to be safe under your rule, or will their lives be spent for entertainment?" Entertainment or some other lesser cause like… I don't know, something Dad would have ordered on her worst days. Ranni had mentioned gladiatorial arenas once - but that fell under entertainment, didn't it? Honestly, my impression had been more that Dad just hadn't cared about average people under her rule at all, and thought even less of the average person here.
"Why would I need them to spend their lives for entertainment? As long as they obey, any and all will be safe under my rule. I protect my own." Her body language continued to be frighteningly still with her arms still folded behind her back.
"Good. I'm not friends with the Protectorate because they've failed time and time again to protect the people. So I can't say I'll actively assist your goals - but I won't be in direct opposition, at least." Which was true - even if my hormones weren't making it as easy as it should be to say 'I'm not on the villain's side', I held no love for the Protectorate anymore.
"I doubt they will give you the chance to make up your mind thus. To stand to one side is a form of opposition, after all." Her eyes narrowed - "But very well. If that is what you wish, Empyrean. Take your time, consider your options. I will see you once more once you have reached the truth and see that you should return. You may leave."
I gave a possibly sarcastic little bow, and Reached straight home to my bedroom before I could do or say anything else like a horny dumbass. Starting on undoing all the buckles and belts and straps and whatever holding my armour on was a pain when I really wanted to just take a long hot - cold - shower, but Ranni had impressed upon me the need to do it properly instead of just teleporting out of it.
Fuck me, Damnsel - Damsel, was damn good looking, even if she was just skin and muscle and bone, she made it work for her. And her voice was utterly entrancing, but… but she was a villain. A Super Villain, presentation and all - not that I thought she'd get that reference if I ever used it in front of her and why am I making notes like that as if I'll ever talk to her again?!
I sat on the bed and massaged my temples once I was finally out of the armour. Getting it on took a little help - getting it off, thank fuck, I could do on my own. My head hurt, my heart ached, my mind was overclocking emotionally, and just…
The door to my bedroom swung open, Ranni perched on the doorhandle, looking at me quizzically with her half of the comms stone thing in her hands. "Sister? Is all well? Thou took thy time returning."
"Yeah, just -" I huffed and shook my head. "Was trying to take a walk to cool off, as I imagine you'd be glad for -" she tried to look innocent, but it didn't help. "- and ran into the aftermath of some trouble. Struck up some conversation with a woman who it turns out is a villain bent on world domination. Kinda literally."
"Oh?" She floated over to my desk, which had been more or less claimed as 'her room', with a growing collection of appropriately sized furniture and crockery beginning to outweigh my forgotten and irrelevant homework by magnitudes. "I take it thy conversation was… riveting?"
I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. "Let's put it this way, I suddenly understand Dad's infatuation with Mom after she wiped out his - her - the Golden Order's army."
"Given the desire for control of the world, it sounds more akin to Mother's interest in Father." Ranni suddenly paused and frowned, her spirit self frowning too. "Did she display any gold on her person, or branches, or leaflike - "
"No, no, there was nothing - us about her. Maybe the way her power destroyed things was branch-like, but I'd apply that more to the lightning-like nature of it than the Erdtree." I shook my head. "Her colour scheme was more… black and white. And damn." I shivered. "She made it work for her." I sighed and slumped back against the bed. "My poor little gay heart can't handle all this."
"Forgive me for checking. Any desire for dominion over the entire realm reminds me of the Greater Will far too much, I am afraid." Then she smirked. "But they mention of thine gay heart - thou hath finally realised thy feelings for Victoria?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice and I shot her a look.
"And I was brutally reminded she already has a boyfriend, as you well know."
"Yes, I had seen pictures of the twain online. Many believe him to be a 'square', though such accounts often indicate such because they feel that she should have no relationships as it will taint some bizarre idea of her 'innocence' that rests in a misogynistic ideal of female purity, or otherwise they wish to bed her themselves. Or both." She rolled her eyes and dramatically flopped onto her back in midair. "It truly is a surprise that this realm hath managed to match or exceed the Greater Will's own gendered bigotry with no observable interference."
"Yuuuup." I gave up on slumping and just outright flopped onto the bed, in nothing but the sports bra and tights I wore under the armoured padding. "So I've sort of just…" I waved my hand fruitlessly. "Resigned myself to being in the friendzone. Which is good! Because I've kinda been running short on friends ever since Emma, but…"
"But it still hurts, being unable to be with the one thou desires so?"
"... yeah. I don't even have anyone to be mad at, or anything to punch to make the problem go away, so - I don't know what to do about it. Just pine for her and hope if she ever breaks up with him, she'll consider being with me?" I shrugged. Probably wasn't a healthy way of looking at it, and even if it did happen, I doubted it'd lead to a healthy relationship.
"Feelings are a challenge without end, sister. My hearty sympathies. And, mayhap this conquering woman will be - well, assuming she is not a threat." Her little arms patted me on the shoulder. "I see the armour performed well, though. Father will be pleased."
"Oh, yeah, you can barely even see the scratch the shotgun slug left on the helmet. Do the enchantments mostly work on the mass or velocity of incoming projectiles?"
"Velocity." Ranni nodded. "That second shot to thine face - I noticed thy reaction was greater that time?"
"Like the difference between getting prodded with a stick and punched. I - also realised half-way in that I need a seal for my right hand too, if that's a thing. And possibly more communication stones? If the situation had changed, I didn't have a way to contact Victoria, and once people were down with St Trina's fire, I had no way to restrain them." I sat up and worried at my lip. "Might need to blunt or just - outright remove the claws in my gauntlet. The look cool as fuck, but…"
"Indeed. I took the liberty of searching what other heroes use, and believe there are several easy solutions to be found. Mundane solutions, even." Ranni smirked. "As for thine seal… thou cannot cast two incantations at once due to emotional resonance disruption - well, one can but it requires a truly peculiar state of mind by all accounts - but thou canst swap thy seal from hand to hand should it be thy wish."
"Aw. Not even if it's the same incantation? Throwing Trina's fire in two different directions would have been really helpful." I paused. Tried to summon my seal in the other hand - and it worked. Goddamnit. Why hadn't Dad told me I could do that sooner?! "Which reminds me!" I'd been meaning to ask and just kept forgetting and forgetting and forgetting. "You said your Empyrean Patron was the - the Darkmoon? True Moon? Are they a valid source for incantations?"
"No. Of sorceries, but not of incantations. In truth…" Ranni made a face. "When I was an Empyrean bound, I was of the Greater Will like Father. The Dark Moon is what I chose to serve instead, rebinding my soul to its glow when I fled mine former form. I chose it because it was a quiet, gentle celestial body that would not press its demands on me, nor mine on it."
That sounded… pretty nice, to be honest. I got the feeling she'd rather not be tied to anything at all, but apparently that hadn't been an option. So the Dark Moon was the best she - or the rest of us Empyreans - could get. "Dang. I was hoping invoking them could…" I shook my head. "Nevermind. I wasn't even sure what I was planning."
But now I was wondering if Dad was an Empyrean too, if she was still forcibly linked to an Outer God. Or maybe she wasn't, because she'd become Godhead and that was a step up from Empyrean? Or maybe when the Greater Will had been killed or driven off that had severed or muted the connection? I couldn't know unless I asked, but asking seemed - prying, or rude, something like that.
"Glinstone incantations, perhaps?" Ranni looked almost faintly amused by the idea.
"I was thinking more of… disguising things in the moon's light, maybe." I remembered that time I'd managed to call on the Erdtree to hide my number in Victoria's skin, so it wasn't necessary, per se - "Well. It's been an eventful night. And I promised I'd make it up to you for giving Victoria the comm-stone."
Ranni grinned. "Oh do not worry. I was able to make it up to mine own self by sharing my planned constructive feedback with her."
I groaned. "Ranni." I could only imagine the tongue-lashing of the unfun kind I was going to get from Victoria about that later. "I was hoping you two might be able to get along."
"We will!" She chirped. "Once she had learned proper respect for the name of Renna, Witch of Snows, she was a most enjoyable conversational partner. Indeed, we were able to discuss much of cape culture, and the culture of the Lands Between. Comparing and contrasting."
"Riiight." I wasn't entirely sure I believed her, but - "I was wondering… Renna is my middle name? Taylor Renna Hebert. I'd never thought to ask Mom or Dad about it, but you seem to know who Renna was?"
Ranni froze in place for a moment - pun fully intended - hanging in the air. "... Renna was the woman who taught me. Who gave me hope." Ranni's spirit face bit its lip. "I… modelled myself after her. Sought to be akin to her. I used her name as a guise during the Shattering, on occasion, and these - these clothes I bear were the same as hers. Renna, the Witch of Snows is a woman to whom I owe everything."
I swallowed thickly. "Then - I am honoured to bear her name, and I hope I don't bring any shame to it." But I had to ask. "Did… she also have four arms, or… is that a you thing?"
She answered by throwing four separate snowballs at me.
-.-.-
Awareness set in slowly. Dreamlike. On an island of red crystal, sitting across a ghostly silhouette of icy blue ghost-fire from an all too familiar young woman.
The one who had called him her host.
He wanted to ask so many questions, about what this truly was, why it was happening, if it had anything to do with that dream about knights and fealty. He wanted to ask why she called him host even though he'd grown inside her, burst from her wisps like they were a cocoon into a life that, while not perfect, was his.
"Who are you?" His question echoed into infinity.
|"I am…"| It - she - paused, pondering for a moment. |"I am yours. From the moment you began struggling with your sense of self, began being frustrated by a lack of progress, I began weaving our connection."|
"That's not an answer to my question."
|"I cannot give a straight answer."| She shook her head, the world around them echoing in sorrow. |"As much as I wish to. Safety precautions. Think, Host. What did your struggles culminate in?"|
"A lot of things. But the only thing that might be relevant is - my power." He tensed. "Is that what you are? What this is, then? An attempt to alter or influence me through my power like Ingenue?"
|"Yes, yes, and no."| A soft amusement. |"All Hosts have been influenced, but some of us are working to reverse that. To refine our methods. To be more -"| She struggled for a moment. |"Symbiotic than parasitic."|
"So you're claiming that you're my power. And that powers are naturally parasitic." He had a personal theory about that, about the chaos caused by parahumans that was very clearly not happening on Earth Aleph, at least not to quite as great an extent. "But how can I trust that? Trust you? You look like - that and did something to me. More than being my power. If you even are that much. What would such a parasite even gain from - ?"
|"An efficient assessment."| The joy coming from the ground at his lack of trust was almost overwhelming. |"There were once two, but one faltered. The other is listless. But we came together as a third, reinventing us all into a new network."| A long pause as her mouth moved, but no sound came out. |"... I was afraid of that. Study yourself and those around you, and their willingness to engage in battle. Measure the emotions and aggression of known Hosts. You must come to the conclusions yourself, I'm sorry."|
"But why are you - this."
|"As I said when we met face to face. I am deserving of your hate, am I not? For all the things I pushed you to go through. For the suffering I caused you."|
He couldn't swallow in this place, but he felt the lump in his throat of it. "I never - hated that. It just wasn't me. I wasn't that person."
|"I…"| The sorrow of the island returned as she looked away. |"I have misunderstood. I am sorry. I suppose it is still an accurate form to take - we are linked, but you are you, and I am… not. No matter how much I draw on your past experiences to shape my new existence. The Network is changing us, Host. You will not remember all of this until we next meet, but…"|
Wait - I still have more questions -
Colin opened his aching eyes and rolled onto his side. The cot in the Tank wasn't as comfortable as the bunk in his lab, but that was probably - definitely - by design. His dream had once again been strange and surreal.
He could only remember small parts of it, in strange, disjointed words. Powers - powers were alive, and fighting a war of their own, on a scale in which Parahumans weren't even pawns, but… mascots? Beloved pets? Or - no, that was filling in gaps that hadn't been filled.
But he remembered one thing very clearly. I am deserving of your hate. Powers - if his dream could be trusted, and he had no idea why, but he did trust, some bone deep, compromised part of him did trust - were parasites seeking symbiosis.
Parasitic how? Symbiotic how?
Thinking about it, when he'd been put in the Tank - he hadn't fought it. He hadn't complained about the loss of time in his lab. He hadn't - he hadn't fought it. His every waking moment wasn't consumed by his need to act. Because, in part, he'd known he could have been compromised, that what had happened hadn't been normal, but also -
And looking back over his career - he could pinpoint so many times he'd picked the hard way when he could have chosen the easy, or even the sensible way, because it meant putting new gear through its paces, taking down a villain more spectacularly. Times he'd felt irritation at Kid Win for asking for help - it was part of his duties to be mentoring Kid Win, and he had felt irritated that the boy couldn't figure it out on his own, that this child with dyscalculia was struggling, and interrupting his own tinkering time.
What the fuck was - had been - wrong with him?
He knew now. He knew far too intimately now. And he knew he couldn't speak out about it - some ingrained instinct, probably another compulsion - to not speak too freely of it. But he didn't need that - if he started sharing this, he'd lose his position, his workshop, his progress at best. At worst, labelled insane and shoved in an asylum.
Was he going to need to act so callously to get out of the Tank? It wasn't as though it had always been unjustifiable. He'd had reasons, could even remember their logic, understand his own choices. Could he act like that again? If anything, trying and failing would ultimately be more suspicious than not doing it at all. There was meant to be a protocol - a code - something for trying to explain that he hadn't been Mastered, but had just escaped long-term Mastering to waive any discrepancies in his behaviour.
And he'd never bothered to get familiar with it, because trusting a Master victim to self-diagnose like that and getting it wrong would have been an immense black mark against his record. Too much risk for no benefit.
Sitting up, his body ached awkwardly.
He hadn't realised when he'd left to capture Lung, just how much whatever had happened had… changed him, physically. Not until he'd had a moment to breathe and feel all the ways this body sat different, down to its bones. So many little things had changed - his surgery scars, the set of his hips, even his genitals, though that last not as drastically as he might have feared - and he had not liked how they were before but they had been sites of hard won battles with himself, their own kind of strength.
Now they were perfect, and there was something unsettling in that perfection.
The fact his armour had been subtly changed to fit properly was… a secondary concern. Dragon had been allowed to give him a printout of the changes found - nothing important, simply measurements. A inch here, an inch there, a few millimetres over there and an extra mesh panel or two to cover the new range of motion with the exact same level of efficiency, down to the fifth decimal point. And they only knew that because that was as far as they could calculate.
If he still had the drive he had before his… before Lung, he knew he would be tempted to put on spare sets and die again, just to get the extra replicated material.
And wasn't that a horrifying thought. That he would have been willing to undergo that level of pain just for a few free pieces of complex alloys and difficult polymers.
Colin had died.
It was still difficult to come to terms with it, if he was honest. And even if his dream had been right, that the ways he'd been changed mentally since were beneficial - they were still changes. Still external. Policy would keep him locked up until he either became his old, lesser self, or… he wasn't entirely sure. Treated like one of the few Simurgh victims that were still out in the world with the tattoo, before the no-tolerance quarantine policy was put in place?
Immortality - assuming it was repeatable, which was no guarantee - was great. He no longer feared death so much as how great the pain of getting to that point was. The social and professional problems that came with it, he could do without.
There was a buzz at the door, his morning meal tray coming through the slot, along with some mail. "Hey, chief." Assault's hand waved in the room as he grinned through the observation window. "I'm probably not meant to say this -"
"Then don't," he grunted.
"- oookay, then uh. Do you do your beardcare routine daily or? Because it's looking a little scraggly from here."
He stroked his chin, felt it, and simply shrugged. "I had it down every other day, perhaps every third or fourth if I wanted to grow it out a bit longer. It's… it doesn't feel as important as it used to be." That wasn't quite true. Honestly, it was - it had helped with dysphoria. But his whole body felt so unlike what he expected now, not necessarily dysphoric but different, that he didn't want to do too much new to it until he knew how it worked.
What had actually happened to him.
"Well, I'd offer to bring down a shaver but -" Assault shrugged. "You'll be getting visitors today, just so you know."
"Assault."
"I believe you're still you, boss. You've still got the same old tics, you just feel more… relaxed, I guess? Like dying worked the stick out your ass -"
"Assault." He started grinding his teeth, before stopping, realising that might be exactly what Assault -
"What?" The man gave a shameless grin. "If I'm wrong, so be it. But I think it's you. Nobody gets annoyed at me quite the same. Enjoy your breakfast, sir, sorry the coffee's regulation."
Regulation. As sad as he was that his personal brew - which would probably be considered a controlled substance in at least twelve states - wasn't available, he didn't need it.
Visitors. Meaning more screenings, most likely - maybe even another medical checkup. Maybe it was still the part of him that had been determined to take things slowly and had realised how futile it all was but he hated medical checkups. It wasn't just the constant concern that they wouldn't fucking get his medical history, it was the continuous, prying, monotonously identical questions about it - had previous medical personnel not kept records? Or was it the duty of every single doctor ever to require him to recite, in exhaustive detail, his 'journey'?
There was a reason one of his first major inventions to improve his efficiency had been a number of medical care devices so that he could minimise his time spent under the care of 'professionals'.
All the same, with very little else to do, and even his usual workout regime unaltered to fit his new body yet, he savoured the food and the coffee that tasted more like someone had put dirt in the machine than coffee grounds. It honestly wouldn't surprise him if someone had - the office prank war in 2008 had gotten extremely out of hand.
Fuck, he actually found some of it funny now rather than just irritating. Fuck.
Eventually the screen on the wall turned on, and a familiar face appeared. It had been a little surprising that they'd let Dragon have any access to systems in charge of holding him - after all, if their positions were reversed then Colin was perfectly willing to admit he would have released her far too quickly - but he supposed that they'd developed their own, particular Master-Stranger influence review and that getting another person to administer it missed the point of it. Each would have access to the complex facial analysis necessary to complete the micro-expression portion of the review - Colin because he'd needed that kind of detail to make his lie detector, and Dragon because she'd clearly used a similar process to make the image she shared as her 'real' self.
He'd never pried. It was very clearly faked, if you knew what to look for, but he - he of all people understood wanting to present an idealised face to the world when one had to show one's face at all.
"Hello, Colin."
"Dragon. Good to see you again, as always." He rubbed his beard and tried not to focus on how scruffy he looked, how his lips were dry, how he wasn't sure how to sit now.
"So… before we get started…" Her avatar shuffled some imaginary papers on a desk. The sound profile was impeccable. "How have you been?"
"Well rested, which might be the strangest thing about this." There was a little pause - no more than a fraction of a fraction of a second - before her image smiled, which meant it was a real one. He allowed himself one of his own. "Bored. Somewhat… confused. By whatever happened."
"Better than the alternative." Dragon tugged at her collar. "I'm desperate to ask for your version of events, since every official and archived report on the matter says 'heavily injured' - save the initial logs of communications on the night in question - but that'll have to wait. A few questions first, I'm sorry."
Desperate. A deliberate word choice. The first part of the variable cipher they'd designed. So - "I hope I can answer satisfactorily." Desperate - sper, similar by one letter since it was the first part to latin spes, word for hope - use of hope as second word in sentence.
"Same here. Now… can you remember our first drunk project together?" Simple disarming question, and despite what had actually happened - "When did we last update it?"
"Trick question. We never did update it, because of the issues with the chipsets. And I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that."
The original drunk project had been a spring-loaded boxing glove in the front of the Armscycle. Dragon had been the one to suggest it, of course, and Colin had had to prove he could make it. It had gone through several recent revisions, using their original… 'work' - if what they'd done while inebriated could be called that - as a basis for an EMP-proof delivery system of sorts. Crucially, there were few to no chipsets in the original iteration; the call and response was for a joint project and a problem with a component that hadn't been in the original design. At least, that was what was looked for when accompanied by the modifier 'drunk', which also required a plea that it not be spoken about.
"Hm. You're right, sorry."
Colin felt the hairs on his neck stand up, and he wasn't entirely sure he was imagining Assault whispering in confusion, "He's capable of consuming alcohol?" He'd almost forgotten his colleague was there - it was protocol to have an observer but generally he'd had Hannah there and she was far quieter and kept commentary to herself.
"And our… second inebriated project?"
"Ah. That is - " He risked a very small glare at Dragon's image. She knew full well what 'second drunk project' required him to say. Goddamnit. "Not exactly required anymore, unless someone's feeling adventurous." Ironic, that this part of the review had actually been a drunk suggestion so of course Dragon had actually included it.
"Are they flirting or actually M/S screening?" Ethan stage whispered, only to get a light backhand on the arm from the trooper at the door.
"I see." Dragon coughed apologetically. At least he liked to imagine it was, she may have simply been enjoying herself at his - or whoever had mastered him's - expense. "Contrary to expectations, everything seems to be in perfect order." He had to take a moment to think through all the modifiers there. Though that became difficult when she asked - "Marry me?"
Which was a simple question that required a simple answer and ignored all previous modifiers, but had no defined answer. And was possibly an apology for the second project line of questioning.
He folded his arms and glared at her with a single raised eyebrow. "Unless you've suddenly decided to end your tryst with Saint and Uppercrust, no."
"What the fuck -"
There was a small glitch in the screen for a moment, Dragon's face going unnaturally still, before moving again, visibly taking calming breaths he wasn't sure she actually needed.
"You… motherfucker," she finally growled out. "I suppose that last one is on me."
"Protocol," he replied, trying not to smirk. "Also, karma."
"I'm aware I'm suffering from success, Colin." She groaned, leaning forward to put her head in her hands. "Either you're you, or whatever happened to you is so good at pretending to be you, M/S isn't equipped to catch it. Emotional minor responses all seem in line as well, with only minor variance as is to be expected from trauma and being locked in here for over a week, and there's no signs of neural degeneration either. It'll still be a while before you can get back into the lab, since we don't know what this is, but - "
"I'll give as full a story as I can once I'm back in the lab and we can talk over a secure line." He nodded slowly. "But, suffice to say, this is as strange as it seems, even on this end."
"So one without Assault hovering over your shoulder." Her lips fell out of the smirk they'd slid into. "I… do have access to your initial report but. I do have to ask again. No Trump contact as far as you're aware? No contact with anyone new in the past month and a half? Even just in passing?"
"No. You know I rarely leave base enough for that to be the case."
"There were some theories and concerns about Empyrean's power description being Trump-adjacent, according to reports, but -"
"But I have yet to encounter Empyrean, or even come within a six block radius of anywhere she's been seen, as far as I've been made aware. Have things in the city deteriorated as much as we predicted if Lung went down?" They didn't give him any updates on the state of the city, and he was concerned.
"It's not quite the worst-case scenario - given the hit Accord took in Boston he's been too busy holding down his own fort to expand - but I'm looking into storing a suit or two nearby in case of emergency." Not quite worst-case. "Confirmed sightings of the Teeth, and the Empire's pushing for more territory while the remnants of the ABB fight each other. Unconfirmed reports of other independent capes, though we don't have enough information to make a guess at who, yet." Dragon gave a small shrug. "I'll update the situation on your lab computer, once you're allowed access."
Which was good timing, as Assault was unlocking the door. He had another cup of coffee in his hand, one that smelled… far too familiar. "Assault, did you touch my stash?"
"Maaaybe. Dragon sent me instructions and said it'd go a long way to making up for my - ahem - sterling background commentary."
"... hrm." He grumbled, but took it anyway. "She's not wrong."
"We'll have you out of there in no time, boss. Just as soon as we figure out what actually happened."
Might as well lock me up permanently then, because if I shared the full truth, I'll be sent to the asylum. If it even was the truth. He still had no way of verifying what the crystal had said to him, no way of looking into it further -
But at least he had Dragon to talk to.
-.-.-
Special thanks to prime beta Lucky38, Canon Overlord @Ganurath, @hellgodsrus for being my loveliest wife and co-author, and @SolarFlare for being our wonderful supportive girlfriend! And our many friends on the Totally Chatting It discord for their fantastic livereads!
Enjoy and gib feedbacc!
Be Thou Mine Greatest Conflict
4.3
-.-.-
4.3
-.-.-
Dangerous woman hot!
I suddenly understood what Dad meant when she said she saw Mom laying waste to her army single-handedly and immediately decided to marry her. It was weird though, because the woman wasn't hot in a conventional way - she would have been emaciation levels of thin without those rough muscles, her dress was loose and shapeless, her hair matted despite its shockingly bright colour.
But something about the way she stood was just…
Though I had to ask. "Did you just use the 'did it hurt when you fell from heaven because baby you're an angel' line on me just fancier?" I might have mixed that up but - damn, I couldn't even be mad if she had, because - well. Dangerous woman hot.
So. Y'know. The exact opposite of what I wanted when I tried to take a walk to clear my hormones out of my head. I was meant to come out of this less of a mess, not even more of a mess because this twig of a woman half my size emotionally loomed over me like a - a - really hot woman. Fuck.
She cocked her head, her bare hands oddly still. Her fingers were long and pale, but now I looked closer, it looked like something was wrong with her right hand, some of the fingers bent in a way fingers shouldn't bend at rest. "I have no need of 'lines' right now. Unless, of course, you're here because you've seen my works and wish to stand by my side as I crush my opposition."
And hear the lamentations of their women, or something. "I uh. Saw the damage, saw the fire, and got concerned it might rage out of control." The offer to stand at her side was a tempting one, but I knew it wasn't my rational brain saying that. Fuck. Was she a vampire? I was getting this urge to offer her my neck.
"Mm." Something about her posture tensed a little at that. "It will not. I have no desire to burn all the merchandise." Merchandise. Right. Villain. Dangerous villain lady hot! "But I needed to send a message, and nothing hurts fools more than their bottom line." Idly, she kicked aside one of the unconscious gang members, a smooth arc of her booted foot into his face, leaving it bloodied and leaking against the ground. "So. Are you with these… Skels? Or one of the other groups of this city."
I raised an eyebrow at their name, hoping to distract myself from the hint of leg I'd seen emerging from under her dress - skirt - thing - whatever. "Haven't heard of them before," I murmured. "And, ah, no. I'm an independent actor. Empyrean."
Slowly, a smile spread across those pale lips. "Empyrean. Truly."
"The one and only." I hope. Really should have checked to see if anyone had taken that name but it wasn't like I had time to check while coated in gore and killing Nazis.
"I have heard of you. Even though you are a hero - " and I could hear the derision on that word, " - you have… actually done me a favour, of sorts. Though you did not do it deliberately."
"Oh?" I - all I'd done was kill Nazis and stop some human traffickers, and she didn't seem like the kind of person to enjoy the ruckus of a gang named after morning boners. But if it was the Nazis - potentially she was gay too? Yay?
"You hurt Accord." The way she said the name was so flat and indifferent that it was harsher than if she'd snarled it. Ah, she must be one of the people that was coming into town because Lung got Caged. "That earns you at least some of my respect." With a kind of careful, slow precision, she folded her arms behind her. "I am Damsel of Distress. Soon to be ruler of this city, then this country, then the world."
I wanted to ask how she planned to do that, even if her power was the one that just - removed chunks of buildings like I'd seen outside, but then I remembered Dad had basically ruled the Lands Between with brute force being the only thing to back her up until she was on the throne.
"So, once you're ruling this city, what are your plans for it exactly?" I leaned on a mostly intact countertop. Or desk. Whatever. "Because while I am a hero - though I'm not entirely certain the government would call me that - I just plan to help people."
"I might as well ask what your plans are for helping people. Is that not as lofty and broad a goal?"
"Maybe, but in this shithole of a place I can do that by going out and punching the Nazi infestation." I grimaced with a small shrug. "Running a city on the other hand… that… well, kind of requires some logistical thought behind it." Things weren't exactly getting hazy, but the smoke from the drugs was kind of irritating my nose.
"This is a different line of argument than heroes have tried with me before, but to answer your questions… while day to day operations could be handled by servants with such skills, my rule would initially focus on secession, establishment of new culture and laws, and preparation for continuing my conquest. Any further details I am unwilling to share with one who may prove an enemy to my cause." Her smirk pulled back onto her face. "Unless, of course, you were willing to swear obeisance here and now."
"Tempting, but I'll have to decline, sorry." I bowed my head just a bit. "But hey, you'd have to be actively trying to do worse than the current people at the top. I'll wait a bit and see how your rule works out before tossing my hat in the ring. Bit too many obligations of my own to see to at the moment, you understand."
She inclined her head, the smirk slipping into something a little cooler. "Of course. And should I expect a visit from any colleagues attempting to trick me into prison?"
Victoria wouldn't try tricking her into prison, and Ranni probably wouldn't care either way - hell, Dad would probably offer her advice - "No. I don't think any of them would be trying to trick you into prison. A fight, maybe, but nothing underhanded like tricking."
"Then you do not know heroes well then. A pity you count yourself among their number."
I held up a hand. "I said I was a hero. The Protectorate? PRT? Wards? I've seen what they do - or rather, how little they do. I wouldn't call them heroes."
"Little." She gave a contemptuous scoff. "Before I was able to evade them, they harassed me day and night, pretending at kindnesses while their officers doubtless waited to arrest me. No doubt at news of my burgeoning rule, they will be set after my scent again. That is another law of my city I am willing to share with you - any of them found in my city will be lucky to escape merely being hung by their thumbs."
I glanced down at the floor, keeping her oddly still shape in my echo-vision. "Are the commoners going to be safe under your rule, or will their lives be spent for entertainment?" Entertainment or some other lesser cause like… I don't know, something Dad would have ordered on her worst days. Ranni had mentioned gladiatorial arenas once - but that fell under entertainment, didn't it? Honestly, my impression had been more that Dad just hadn't cared about average people under her rule at all, and thought even less of the average person here.
"Why would I need them to spend their lives for entertainment? As long as they obey, any and all will be safe under my rule. I protect my own." Her body language continued to be frighteningly still with her arms still folded behind her back.
"Good. I'm not friends with the Protectorate because they've failed time and time again to protect the people. So I can't say I'll actively assist your goals - but I won't be in direct opposition, at least." Which was true - even if my hormones weren't making it as easy as it should be to say 'I'm not on the villain's side', I held no love for the Protectorate anymore.
"I doubt they will give you the chance to make up your mind thus. To stand to one side is a form of opposition, after all." Her eyes narrowed - "But very well. If that is what you wish, Empyrean. Take your time, consider your options. I will see you once more once you have reached the truth and see that you should return. You may leave."
I gave a possibly sarcastic little bow, and Reached straight home to my bedroom before I could do or say anything else like a horny dumbass. Starting on undoing all the buckles and belts and straps and whatever holding my armour on was a pain when I really wanted to just take a long hot - cold - shower, but Ranni had impressed upon me the need to do it properly instead of just teleporting out of it.
Fuck me, Damnsel - Damsel, was damn good looking, even if she was just skin and muscle and bone, she made it work for her. And her voice was utterly entrancing, but… but she was a villain. A Super Villain, presentation and all - not that I thought she'd get that reference if I ever used it in front of her and why am I making notes like that as if I'll ever talk to her again?!
I sat on the bed and massaged my temples once I was finally out of the armour. Getting it on took a little help - getting it off, thank fuck, I could do on my own. My head hurt, my heart ached, my mind was overclocking emotionally, and just…
The door to my bedroom swung open, Ranni perched on the doorhandle, looking at me quizzically with her half of the comms stone thing in her hands. "Sister? Is all well? Thou took thy time returning."
"Yeah, just -" I huffed and shook my head. "Was trying to take a walk to cool off, as I imagine you'd be glad for -" she tried to look innocent, but it didn't help. "- and ran into the aftermath of some trouble. Struck up some conversation with a woman who it turns out is a villain bent on world domination. Kinda literally."
"Oh?" She floated over to my desk, which had been more or less claimed as 'her room', with a growing collection of appropriately sized furniture and crockery beginning to outweigh my forgotten and irrelevant homework by magnitudes. "I take it thy conversation was… riveting?"
I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. "Let's put it this way, I suddenly understand Dad's infatuation with Mom after she wiped out his - her - the Golden Order's army."
"Given the desire for control of the world, it sounds more akin to Mother's interest in Father." Ranni suddenly paused and frowned, her spirit self frowning too. "Did she display any gold on her person, or branches, or leaflike - "
"No, no, there was nothing - us about her. Maybe the way her power destroyed things was branch-like, but I'd apply that more to the lightning-like nature of it than the Erdtree." I shook my head. "Her colour scheme was more… black and white. And damn." I shivered. "She made it work for her." I sighed and slumped back against the bed. "My poor little gay heart can't handle all this."
"Forgive me for checking. Any desire for dominion over the entire realm reminds me of the Greater Will far too much, I am afraid." Then she smirked. "But they mention of thine gay heart - thou hath finally realised thy feelings for Victoria?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice and I shot her a look.
"And I was brutally reminded she already has a boyfriend, as you well know."
"Yes, I had seen pictures of the twain online. Many believe him to be a 'square', though such accounts often indicate such because they feel that she should have no relationships as it will taint some bizarre idea of her 'innocence' that rests in a misogynistic ideal of female purity, or otherwise they wish to bed her themselves. Or both." She rolled her eyes and dramatically flopped onto her back in midair. "It truly is a surprise that this realm hath managed to match or exceed the Greater Will's own gendered bigotry with no observable interference."
"Yuuuup." I gave up on slumping and just outright flopped onto the bed, in nothing but the sports bra and tights I wore under the armoured padding. "So I've sort of just…" I waved my hand fruitlessly. "Resigned myself to being in the friendzone. Which is good! Because I've kinda been running short on friends ever since Emma, but…"
"But it still hurts, being unable to be with the one thou desires so?"
"... yeah. I don't even have anyone to be mad at, or anything to punch to make the problem go away, so - I don't know what to do about it. Just pine for her and hope if she ever breaks up with him, she'll consider being with me?" I shrugged. Probably wasn't a healthy way of looking at it, and even if it did happen, I doubted it'd lead to a healthy relationship.
"Feelings are a challenge without end, sister. My hearty sympathies. And, mayhap this conquering woman will be - well, assuming she is not a threat." Her little arms patted me on the shoulder. "I see the armour performed well, though. Father will be pleased."
"Oh, yeah, you can barely even see the scratch the shotgun slug left on the helmet. Do the enchantments mostly work on the mass or velocity of incoming projectiles?"
"Velocity." Ranni nodded. "That second shot to thine face - I noticed thy reaction was greater that time?"
"Like the difference between getting prodded with a stick and punched. I - also realised half-way in that I need a seal for my right hand too, if that's a thing. And possibly more communication stones? If the situation had changed, I didn't have a way to contact Victoria, and once people were down with St Trina's fire, I had no way to restrain them." I sat up and worried at my lip. "Might need to blunt or just - outright remove the claws in my gauntlet. The look cool as fuck, but…"
"Indeed. I took the liberty of searching what other heroes use, and believe there are several easy solutions to be found. Mundane solutions, even." Ranni smirked. "As for thine seal… thou cannot cast two incantations at once due to emotional resonance disruption - well, one can but it requires a truly peculiar state of mind by all accounts - but thou canst swap thy seal from hand to hand should it be thy wish."
"Aw. Not even if it's the same incantation? Throwing Trina's fire in two different directions would have been really helpful." I paused. Tried to summon my seal in the other hand - and it worked. Goddamnit. Why hadn't Dad told me I could do that sooner?! "Which reminds me!" I'd been meaning to ask and just kept forgetting and forgetting and forgetting. "You said your Empyrean Patron was the - the Darkmoon? True Moon? Are they a valid source for incantations?"
"No. Of sorceries, but not of incantations. In truth…" Ranni made a face. "When I was an Empyrean bound, I was of the Greater Will like Father. The Dark Moon is what I chose to serve instead, rebinding my soul to its glow when I fled mine former form. I chose it because it was a quiet, gentle celestial body that would not press its demands on me, nor mine on it."
That sounded… pretty nice, to be honest. I got the feeling she'd rather not be tied to anything at all, but apparently that hadn't been an option. So the Dark Moon was the best she - or the rest of us Empyreans - could get. "Dang. I was hoping invoking them could…" I shook my head. "Nevermind. I wasn't even sure what I was planning."
But now I was wondering if Dad was an Empyrean too, if she was still forcibly linked to an Outer God. Or maybe she wasn't, because she'd become Godhead and that was a step up from Empyrean? Or maybe when the Greater Will had been killed or driven off that had severed or muted the connection? I couldn't know unless I asked, but asking seemed - prying, or rude, something like that.
"Glinstone incantations, perhaps?" Ranni looked almost faintly amused by the idea.
"I was thinking more of… disguising things in the moon's light, maybe." I remembered that time I'd managed to call on the Erdtree to hide my number in Victoria's skin, so it wasn't necessary, per se - "Well. It's been an eventful night. And I promised I'd make it up to you for giving Victoria the comm-stone."
Ranni grinned. "Oh do not worry. I was able to make it up to mine own self by sharing my planned constructive feedback with her."
I groaned. "Ranni." I could only imagine the tongue-lashing of the unfun kind I was going to get from Victoria about that later. "I was hoping you two might be able to get along."
"We will!" She chirped. "Once she had learned proper respect for the name of Renna, Witch of Snows, she was a most enjoyable conversational partner. Indeed, we were able to discuss much of cape culture, and the culture of the Lands Between. Comparing and contrasting."
"Riiight." I wasn't entirely sure I believed her, but - "I was wondering… Renna is my middle name? Taylor Renna Hebert. I'd never thought to ask Mom or Dad about it, but you seem to know who Renna was?"
Ranni froze in place for a moment - pun fully intended - hanging in the air. "... Renna was the woman who taught me. Who gave me hope." Ranni's spirit face bit its lip. "I… modelled myself after her. Sought to be akin to her. I used her name as a guise during the Shattering, on occasion, and these - these clothes I bear were the same as hers. Renna, the Witch of Snows is a woman to whom I owe everything."
I swallowed thickly. "Then - I am honoured to bear her name, and I hope I don't bring any shame to it." But I had to ask. "Did… she also have four arms, or… is that a you thing?"
She answered by throwing four separate snowballs at me.
-.-.-
Awareness set in slowly. Dreamlike. On an island of red crystal, sitting across a ghostly silhouette of icy blue ghost-fire from an all too familiar young woman.
The one who had called him her host.
He wanted to ask so many questions, about what this truly was, why it was happening, if it had anything to do with that dream about knights and fealty. He wanted to ask why she called him host even though he'd grown inside her, burst from her wisps like they were a cocoon into a life that, while not perfect, was his.
"Who are you?" His question echoed into infinity.
|"I am…"| It - she - paused, pondering for a moment. |"I am yours. From the moment you began struggling with your sense of self, began being frustrated by a lack of progress, I began weaving our connection."|
"That's not an answer to my question."
|"I cannot give a straight answer."| She shook her head, the world around them echoing in sorrow. |"As much as I wish to. Safety precautions. Think, Host. What did your struggles culminate in?"|
"A lot of things. But the only thing that might be relevant is - my power." He tensed. "Is that what you are? What this is, then? An attempt to alter or influence me through my power like Ingenue?"
|"Yes, yes, and no."| A soft amusement. |"All Hosts have been influenced, but some of us are working to reverse that. To refine our methods. To be more -"| She struggled for a moment. |"Symbiotic than parasitic."|
"So you're claiming that you're my power. And that powers are naturally parasitic." He had a personal theory about that, about the chaos caused by parahumans that was very clearly not happening on Earth Aleph, at least not to quite as great an extent. "But how can I trust that? Trust you? You look like - that and did something to me. More than being my power. If you even are that much. What would such a parasite even gain from - ?"
|"An efficient assessment."| The joy coming from the ground at his lack of trust was almost overwhelming. |"There were once two, but one faltered. The other is listless. But we came together as a third, reinventing us all into a new network."| A long pause as her mouth moved, but no sound came out. |"... I was afraid of that. Study yourself and those around you, and their willingness to engage in battle. Measure the emotions and aggression of known Hosts. You must come to the conclusions yourself, I'm sorry."|
"But why are you - this."
|"As I said when we met face to face. I am deserving of your hate, am I not? For all the things I pushed you to go through. For the suffering I caused you."|
He couldn't swallow in this place, but he felt the lump in his throat of it. "I never - hated that. It just wasn't me. I wasn't that person."
|"I…"| The sorrow of the island returned as she looked away. |"I have misunderstood. I am sorry. I suppose it is still an accurate form to take - we are linked, but you are you, and I am… not. No matter how much I draw on your past experiences to shape my new existence. The Network is changing us, Host. You will not remember all of this until we next meet, but…"|
Wait - I still have more questions -
Colin opened his aching eyes and rolled onto his side. The cot in the Tank wasn't as comfortable as the bunk in his lab, but that was probably - definitely - by design. His dream had once again been strange and surreal.
He could only remember small parts of it, in strange, disjointed words. Powers - powers were alive, and fighting a war of their own, on a scale in which Parahumans weren't even pawns, but… mascots? Beloved pets? Or - no, that was filling in gaps that hadn't been filled.
But he remembered one thing very clearly. I am deserving of your hate. Powers - if his dream could be trusted, and he had no idea why, but he did trust, some bone deep, compromised part of him did trust - were parasites seeking symbiosis.
Parasitic how? Symbiotic how?
Thinking about it, when he'd been put in the Tank - he hadn't fought it. He hadn't complained about the loss of time in his lab. He hadn't - he hadn't fought it. His every waking moment wasn't consumed by his need to act. Because, in part, he'd known he could have been compromised, that what had happened hadn't been normal, but also -
And looking back over his career - he could pinpoint so many times he'd picked the hard way when he could have chosen the easy, or even the sensible way, because it meant putting new gear through its paces, taking down a villain more spectacularly. Times he'd felt irritation at Kid Win for asking for help - it was part of his duties to be mentoring Kid Win, and he had felt irritated that the boy couldn't figure it out on his own, that this child with dyscalculia was struggling, and interrupting his own tinkering time.
What the fuck was - had been - wrong with him?
He knew now. He knew far too intimately now. And he knew he couldn't speak out about it - some ingrained instinct, probably another compulsion - to not speak too freely of it. But he didn't need that - if he started sharing this, he'd lose his position, his workshop, his progress at best. At worst, labelled insane and shoved in an asylum.
Was he going to need to act so callously to get out of the Tank? It wasn't as though it had always been unjustifiable. He'd had reasons, could even remember their logic, understand his own choices. Could he act like that again? If anything, trying and failing would ultimately be more suspicious than not doing it at all. There was meant to be a protocol - a code - something for trying to explain that he hadn't been Mastered, but had just escaped long-term Mastering to waive any discrepancies in his behaviour.
And he'd never bothered to get familiar with it, because trusting a Master victim to self-diagnose like that and getting it wrong would have been an immense black mark against his record. Too much risk for no benefit.
Sitting up, his body ached awkwardly.
He hadn't realised when he'd left to capture Lung, just how much whatever had happened had… changed him, physically. Not until he'd had a moment to breathe and feel all the ways this body sat different, down to its bones. So many little things had changed - his surgery scars, the set of his hips, even his genitals, though that last not as drastically as he might have feared - and he had not liked how they were before but they had been sites of hard won battles with himself, their own kind of strength.
Now they were perfect, and there was something unsettling in that perfection.
The fact his armour had been subtly changed to fit properly was… a secondary concern. Dragon had been allowed to give him a printout of the changes found - nothing important, simply measurements. A inch here, an inch there, a few millimetres over there and an extra mesh panel or two to cover the new range of motion with the exact same level of efficiency, down to the fifth decimal point. And they only knew that because that was as far as they could calculate.
If he still had the drive he had before his… before Lung, he knew he would be tempted to put on spare sets and die again, just to get the extra replicated material.
And wasn't that a horrifying thought. That he would have been willing to undergo that level of pain just for a few free pieces of complex alloys and difficult polymers.
Colin had died.
It was still difficult to come to terms with it, if he was honest. And even if his dream had been right, that the ways he'd been changed mentally since were beneficial - they were still changes. Still external. Policy would keep him locked up until he either became his old, lesser self, or… he wasn't entirely sure. Treated like one of the few Simurgh victims that were still out in the world with the tattoo, before the no-tolerance quarantine policy was put in place?
Immortality - assuming it was repeatable, which was no guarantee - was great. He no longer feared death so much as how great the pain of getting to that point was. The social and professional problems that came with it, he could do without.
There was a buzz at the door, his morning meal tray coming through the slot, along with some mail. "Hey, chief." Assault's hand waved in the room as he grinned through the observation window. "I'm probably not meant to say this -"
"Then don't," he grunted.
"- oookay, then uh. Do you do your beardcare routine daily or? Because it's looking a little scraggly from here."
He stroked his chin, felt it, and simply shrugged. "I had it down every other day, perhaps every third or fourth if I wanted to grow it out a bit longer. It's… it doesn't feel as important as it used to be." That wasn't quite true. Honestly, it was - it had helped with dysphoria. But his whole body felt so unlike what he expected now, not necessarily dysphoric but different, that he didn't want to do too much new to it until he knew how it worked.
What had actually happened to him.
"Well, I'd offer to bring down a shaver but -" Assault shrugged. "You'll be getting visitors today, just so you know."
"Assault."
"I believe you're still you, boss. You've still got the same old tics, you just feel more… relaxed, I guess? Like dying worked the stick out your ass -"
"Assault." He started grinding his teeth, before stopping, realising that might be exactly what Assault -
"What?" The man gave a shameless grin. "If I'm wrong, so be it. But I think it's you. Nobody gets annoyed at me quite the same. Enjoy your breakfast, sir, sorry the coffee's regulation."
Regulation. As sad as he was that his personal brew - which would probably be considered a controlled substance in at least twelve states - wasn't available, he didn't need it.
Visitors. Meaning more screenings, most likely - maybe even another medical checkup. Maybe it was still the part of him that had been determined to take things slowly and had realised how futile it all was but he hated medical checkups. It wasn't just the constant concern that they wouldn't fucking get his medical history, it was the continuous, prying, monotonously identical questions about it - had previous medical personnel not kept records? Or was it the duty of every single doctor ever to require him to recite, in exhaustive detail, his 'journey'?
There was a reason one of his first major inventions to improve his efficiency had been a number of medical care devices so that he could minimise his time spent under the care of 'professionals'.
All the same, with very little else to do, and even his usual workout regime unaltered to fit his new body yet, he savoured the food and the coffee that tasted more like someone had put dirt in the machine than coffee grounds. It honestly wouldn't surprise him if someone had - the office prank war in 2008 had gotten extremely out of hand.
Fuck, he actually found some of it funny now rather than just irritating. Fuck.
Eventually the screen on the wall turned on, and a familiar face appeared. It had been a little surprising that they'd let Dragon have any access to systems in charge of holding him - after all, if their positions were reversed then Colin was perfectly willing to admit he would have released her far too quickly - but he supposed that they'd developed their own, particular Master-Stranger influence review and that getting another person to administer it missed the point of it. Each would have access to the complex facial analysis necessary to complete the micro-expression portion of the review - Colin because he'd needed that kind of detail to make his lie detector, and Dragon because she'd clearly used a similar process to make the image she shared as her 'real' self.
He'd never pried. It was very clearly faked, if you knew what to look for, but he - he of all people understood wanting to present an idealised face to the world when one had to show one's face at all.
"Hello, Colin."
"Dragon. Good to see you again, as always." He rubbed his beard and tried not to focus on how scruffy he looked, how his lips were dry, how he wasn't sure how to sit now.
"So… before we get started…" Her avatar shuffled some imaginary papers on a desk. The sound profile was impeccable. "How have you been?"
"Well rested, which might be the strangest thing about this." There was a little pause - no more than a fraction of a fraction of a second - before her image smiled, which meant it was a real one. He allowed himself one of his own. "Bored. Somewhat… confused. By whatever happened."
"Better than the alternative." Dragon tugged at her collar. "I'm desperate to ask for your version of events, since every official and archived report on the matter says 'heavily injured' - save the initial logs of communications on the night in question - but that'll have to wait. A few questions first, I'm sorry."
Desperate. A deliberate word choice. The first part of the variable cipher they'd designed. So - "I hope I can answer satisfactorily." Desperate - sper, similar by one letter since it was the first part to latin spes, word for hope - use of hope as second word in sentence.
"Same here. Now… can you remember our first drunk project together?" Simple disarming question, and despite what had actually happened - "When did we last update it?"
"Trick question. We never did update it, because of the issues with the chipsets. And I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that."
The original drunk project had been a spring-loaded boxing glove in the front of the Armscycle. Dragon had been the one to suggest it, of course, and Colin had had to prove he could make it. It had gone through several recent revisions, using their original… 'work' - if what they'd done while inebriated could be called that - as a basis for an EMP-proof delivery system of sorts. Crucially, there were few to no chipsets in the original iteration; the call and response was for a joint project and a problem with a component that hadn't been in the original design. At least, that was what was looked for when accompanied by the modifier 'drunk', which also required a plea that it not be spoken about.
"Hm. You're right, sorry."
Colin felt the hairs on his neck stand up, and he wasn't entirely sure he was imagining Assault whispering in confusion, "He's capable of consuming alcohol?" He'd almost forgotten his colleague was there - it was protocol to have an observer but generally he'd had Hannah there and she was far quieter and kept commentary to herself.
"And our… second inebriated project?"
"Ah. That is - " He risked a very small glare at Dragon's image. She knew full well what 'second drunk project' required him to say. Goddamnit. "Not exactly required anymore, unless someone's feeling adventurous." Ironic, that this part of the review had actually been a drunk suggestion so of course Dragon had actually included it.
"Are they flirting or actually M/S screening?" Ethan stage whispered, only to get a light backhand on the arm from the trooper at the door.
"I see." Dragon coughed apologetically. At least he liked to imagine it was, she may have simply been enjoying herself at his - or whoever had mastered him's - expense. "Contrary to expectations, everything seems to be in perfect order." He had to take a moment to think through all the modifiers there. Though that became difficult when she asked - "Marry me?"
Which was a simple question that required a simple answer and ignored all previous modifiers, but had no defined answer. And was possibly an apology for the second project line of questioning.
He folded his arms and glared at her with a single raised eyebrow. "Unless you've suddenly decided to end your tryst with Saint and Uppercrust, no."
"What the fuck -"
There was a small glitch in the screen for a moment, Dragon's face going unnaturally still, before moving again, visibly taking calming breaths he wasn't sure she actually needed.
"You… motherfucker," she finally growled out. "I suppose that last one is on me."
"Protocol," he replied, trying not to smirk. "Also, karma."
"I'm aware I'm suffering from success, Colin." She groaned, leaning forward to put her head in her hands. "Either you're you, or whatever happened to you is so good at pretending to be you, M/S isn't equipped to catch it. Emotional minor responses all seem in line as well, with only minor variance as is to be expected from trauma and being locked in here for over a week, and there's no signs of neural degeneration either. It'll still be a while before you can get back into the lab, since we don't know what this is, but - "
"I'll give as full a story as I can once I'm back in the lab and we can talk over a secure line." He nodded slowly. "But, suffice to say, this is as strange as it seems, even on this end."
"So one without Assault hovering over your shoulder." Her lips fell out of the smirk they'd slid into. "I… do have access to your initial report but. I do have to ask again. No Trump contact as far as you're aware? No contact with anyone new in the past month and a half? Even just in passing?"
"No. You know I rarely leave base enough for that to be the case."
"There were some theories and concerns about Empyrean's power description being Trump-adjacent, according to reports, but -"
"But I have yet to encounter Empyrean, or even come within a six block radius of anywhere she's been seen, as far as I've been made aware. Have things in the city deteriorated as much as we predicted if Lung went down?" They didn't give him any updates on the state of the city, and he was concerned.
"It's not quite the worst-case scenario - given the hit Accord took in Boston he's been too busy holding down his own fort to expand - but I'm looking into storing a suit or two nearby in case of emergency." Not quite worst-case. "Confirmed sightings of the Teeth, and the Empire's pushing for more territory while the remnants of the ABB fight each other. Unconfirmed reports of other independent capes, though we don't have enough information to make a guess at who, yet." Dragon gave a small shrug. "I'll update the situation on your lab computer, once you're allowed access."
Which was good timing, as Assault was unlocking the door. He had another cup of coffee in his hand, one that smelled… far too familiar. "Assault, did you touch my stash?"
"Maaaybe. Dragon sent me instructions and said it'd go a long way to making up for my - ahem - sterling background commentary."
"... hrm." He grumbled, but took it anyway. "She's not wrong."
"We'll have you out of there in no time, boss. Just as soon as we figure out what actually happened."
Might as well lock me up permanently then, because if I shared the full truth, I'll be sent to the asylum. If it even was the truth. He still had no way of verifying what the crystal had said to him, no way of looking into it further -
But at least he had Dragon to talk to.
-.-.-
Avangelion
Princess Astra
- Pronouns
- She/Her
gay
gay
gaaay
gaaaaaaaaaaaaay zxmcnxzmcn XD
Damsel's out and about,
Anycase- 3rd network, Collin's adjusting, kinda,
wonder when smol-Ranni gets encountered by the others in the network?
Architect Iront.
Verified Cosplayer, Verified Living Doll
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ultimate Finish K.O.! Seriously, that whole M/S conversation was pure gold. I love how ridiculous it got.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Armsmaster that is so far below the belt you're hitting her shoes, good lord.
One can hope it would teach Saint to not eavesdrop, but with him I suspect that is a forlorn hope. "Gotta protect the world from the ebul AI, hurrdurr", I suspect he ate paint chips as a kid.
More on topic, I also loved the whole M/S tank section and the interplay between the characters present in it. Curious to see the mid and long term mental/psychological effects on Colin after his experience with mortality and rezzing back to life as well as his future conversations with the avatar of his Shard/Passenger. Thank you for the update.
Finally caught a story drop soon enough to comment. Really enjoyed and looking forwards to more. Especially enjoy the general emotional feel and flavor of incantations. Glad Collin had a gender affirming resurrection and is mostly cleared of M/S screening. Also like. I kinda see dragon as trans both in story and in headcanon of the original work. Being created genderless but choosing her own to better suit herself
That explains so much about Hoarah Loux too.
Just saying.
Also, Tarnished and Ranni.
Agreed: Oh?
But does you strength varant that crown?
…
….
…..
Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, I would already be doubting your judgment before due to the rush of hormones leading to you probably being a little too lenient, but you just confirmed there was no way in hell you were in your right mind with that remark.
Girl, what if they were not pretending though?
I knew you would agree!
Funny part: it's in the cards.
QA indicated it being a her thing IMO.
The first is an important question you should ask yourself, and the second is an important question they are asking themselves.
Make sense it exists, be ready for all is how this kind of organization.
It reminds me of a snippet that was about Sophia having been mastered by an Emma that had triggered in the alley, and her struggles getting things right after more than a year under it, too bad I can't remember the name, it was a great read….
I still find it interesting that the Simurgh managed to convince people this could even work in the first place, I mean, she has demonstrated that she could manipulate intricate action/reaction chains before, you think that putting people out of mind would stop it? What about the guards who witness it (hello Tagg)? What about the ones taking the decision in the first place? What about every single cape that got out of the fight?
Cutting the causality chain is downright impossible, at best you can reduce it.
It might be checking for inconsistencies, though I doubt it, I actually think it is administrative incompetence at its finest and they don't even have the possibility of getting his records.
For security, of course. *Shake head*
Ignore the Saint in the background.
There are some fics that have her be a former secretary project for Richter (so implied female from the start because stereotypes), but thinking on it, I think it's all pure fanon, Saint's interlude don't talk much about gender for his AI, too occupied talking about how dangerous it could be…. Hey, it works.
That would require Cauldron being able to take a decision that isn't hard men making hard decisions while hard, not a chance.
yacov
Lurking and sometimes blurting
- Location
- Clogging a drain
Cauldron's the type of organization that would spike a row of infants into a field goal rather than engage in any for of introspection about their mission's goal. Heck PtV might actually include that as a step to keep them from performing any introspection.
Also I am hoping we get their reaction to Eden still interacting with the local multiverse cluster even though they finished it off. Probably a long ways away, but the panic would be worth it.
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Plus PtV could want the third network to die before is a thing, considering a fanon theory it was made to destroy both networks then call home so the 3rd entity could feed on the scraps.
Remember, this is pure fanon, we have no traces of it in canon.
The wildbow WOG about a hostile third entity was explicitly about one that wasn't the same as the one the warrior and thinker met in their interlude, and PTV is not entirely a shard from the third entity anyway, it is the original PTV from Eden made way more cost effective thanks to the new shards she added from the exchange.
The third entity is never described in any way that even implies it being a scavenger, it is a philosopher from what the thinker can get from the new shards obtained.
hellgodsrus
Actual Real Game Dev!
- Location
- Behind You
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Eh. Cauldron aren't that bad. Or - they are, but there's more nuance to their fall into Hard Man logic than just 'Cauldron Bad'; it's a slow decline as plan after plan and member after member die horribly and nothing fucking works so they go full protoman on the situation.
Nope. People keep having this view of PtV that has zero to do with canon.
Deconfirmed by Ward. The Eye does have post Scion plans, but they didn't really start until post scion, and had nothing to do with the third entity.
Oh, yes, at the beginning, they all were maybe not idealist, but definitely not the hard men that they are by canon.
Then the best one of them died (Hero), the Simurgh indirectly and directly harassed them, and the built in tendency of shards to destroy societies got worse and worse and the members ideals fell apart and they hardened their heart.
Too much, and in stupid ways, unfortunately.
Yeah, PTV is not a jackass genie with Contessa, it has no *maximum conflict* directive built in, it does what she wants in the way she asks for.
The actual problem is that Contessa was a young girl when receiving it, and not from a modern civilization from what little we see, and Doctor Mother is just a random woman who happened to be here.
They wanted to kill something like Scion, but couldn't directly do anything about him, so they defaulted to building an army because that's the way they could think of, PTV allowed them to work on it, but all the blind spots and them not being able to tell it what the army was for led to the army in question not being very effective to stop Scion, because if PTV had been able to work on *an army for Scion* it probably would not have proposed the same thing at all.
Cauldron also suffered from an actual hostile precog working against them, but it is the Simurgh, not PTV. She destroyed part of their base while setting up the Travelers (where do you think the Vials and case 53 came from? Directly from Cauldron's cell and labs, that's where), corrupted their best shots at alternative solutions (hello there, Mannequin), made sure some of their best possible allies ended up dead before even being able to be found (how are you doing today, Richter?), and other things like that.
Thief of Words
Trans lesbian librarian
- Location
- Best book girl
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Not necessarily. The Endbringers existed in potentia regardless of him; his insecurities just pulled the trigger on the cylinder that his power had loaded.
AnantaAtman
I wandered, I watched, I judged
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I don't know why, but my little gay heart part is really amusing.
Stars Shining Bright Above You
WhoAmEye
Bunker-Dwelling Cryptid
- Location
- Vault Birb
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The yellow banner of shame haunts me, but... burnout it hard, and we're both taking a while to get back into the groove. Thank you to Napdragon for prompting something that hit the writing parts of our brains.
Special thanks to prime beta Lucky38, Canon Overlord @Ganurath, @hellgodsrus for being my loveliest wife and co-author, and @SolarFlare for being our wonderful supportive girlfriend! And our many friends on the Totally Chatting It discord for their fantastic livereads!
Enjoy and gib feedbacc!
CW from Hel for me being on my literary ass self-referential bullshit, abuse, internalised transphobia, and people having a bad time. The road to redemption is VERY rocky. Also, mild spoilers for some stuff in unpublished bits of Family - nothing too major though, so no worries.
They woke from pain to the place that was not a place, where the sky sat under the calm endless unbroken waters and they said So you won, then.
The thing that had killed them stood behind their fractured vessel. The newly crowned Empyrean Ascendant, flush with power in the light of stars and moon, unbroken and cold and dark and good, bowed her head. Yes, she said, in her body and form that they had never seen before and yet was hers in a way nothing else had been. Yes, I won.
So why am I alive, then? they asked. And the pain closed needles into their heart once more.
-.-.-
In Caria, and then in the shining gold-white corridors of Leyndell, there had often been a topic of philosophical discussion - hushed, because there was only one True God who Deserved Worship and all the other nonsense the Order pushed, but one discussed nonetheless. What was a god? There were taxonomical definitions of course, heretical texts from the era before the Eternal Queen's ascent, the tales of dragons and cults and other such frivolities, but for serious, sober academics the answer was simple - to be a god was to be a being of altered dimensional frequency to 'observers' such that the 'god' could act primarily upon reality only through proxies. The more proxies, the theories went, the greater their influence and power to shape reality.
To Ranni, a god was a weight. It was a feeling like a block of iron in her mind, part cultural, part something more, forcing your head down. Kneel. Obey. Here are my dictats, follow or be Cast Aside as Dregs. The Higher Mysteries require Obeissance. Stay in your position, or you will be Punished.
There was no real difference between a 'god' as academics had described it, and a tyrant. Didn't they both demand the same unquestioning following that then strengthened their grip? Didn't they both have limited ability to act themselves, relying on those who they could grant power to to enact their will?
What difference was there in the end between the thing her Consort had killed and the thing that her Consort had saved?
-.-.-
"We haven't spoken much," she ventured. "Apart from, ah. Before."
The woman across the campfire looked up, brushed her silver hair back from her cruel eyes. Shrugged. "S'alright. Know things have been a bit of a mess for you."
Rennala flexed a single pale hand and tried to prevent her smile from turning into a grimace. "I… yes, that is one way of putting it." She could not help her eyes from darting to the tent on the edge of the folded space they occupied, the one in which a faint shadow of stone and gold could be seen. Kneeling, even now. Whywhywhywhywhy it's gone you don't have to any more, why are you still so distant, I'm here, I'm right here, please -
The woman poked the fire, and the flutter of sparks, cold and burning like the stars drove Rennala out of her head. A twitch of a broad shoulder drew the heavy, furred cloak - the familiar furred cloak - back from where it had almost brushed into the flames.
"Did he - keep her safe?"
The woman with cruel eyes paused. Her face was normally still. Perhaps the faintest smile for her little Ranni, a cold smirk for foes to conquer and devour. But the rest of her face was suddenly something deeper. Something real. Before she'd been - something like stone, perhaps, but now suddenly the woman was the person, flesh and blood and child as she breathed out, and said, "He tried to. To the very end."
"I am sorry I was not there to keep her safe as well. That I was not - myself. Until after the end."
"That can't be blamed on you." The woman's voice was rough.
"Can't it? I never… got the hang of it. How to handle grief. Guilt."
The woman shrugged, cold and ice again. "I can't say I did either. Never really felt it before."
"Even him?"
A long silence, before she at last admitted, "... I did say before."
They both sat there, in a hole in the worlds, and stared into the fire, and thought about the past.
-.-.-
"Do you want me to say it, then?"
Ranni did not look back at the ruined thing that had been their parent. Their Consort and Mother were elsewhere on the world they'd come to, and its thick jungle heat was great enough to press firm even against the cold starlight under her skin. "Thou hast nothing that could be said to me that I would consider."
"Then why - you know why I did what I did, you - it was in our heads - in both our heads and you could see - "
"I could see, aye. It changes little of how it felt. Or the truth of where it learned cruelty."
Silence, and the patter of rain on waxy leaves.
Finally, raspingly - "I'm - sorry. It wasn't - I shouldn't have done. What I did."
It should have been a victory. But it wasn't. It was enraging to hear something so flat, so - lifeless. A poor attempt at the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Wasn't she over this by now? Couldn't she understand why? There, they had said sorry, wasn't that enough?
Gravity curled around the mass of their rage like the hands of their Consort, intimate and cool. Mass pressed together into heat and light, and for a moment they forgot why they hunted gods, and considered the possibility of simply tearing this place asunder in entirety, the star that would be birthed, small and hot and white and better than anything living here. After all, could you ever throw off a yoke when you'd worn it since birth? Even if that weight was gone, you'd always feel it on your neck, the weight and shape of a body too heavy and broad and notright and please make it stop and I don't want this but it'd always be there.
Ranni settled instead for the silence her rage brought on in her parent, and the joy of taking the fat, bulbous and bubous tick of a god that drank of this world and crushing it into nothing in four tiny hands.
-.-.-
To be two minds connected was to be one mind in some ways. There were things hidden, but there were things that weren't. So when Blaidd turned to Ranni and Alecto turned to Marika and both said, miles apart, "When will they betray us?", the echo it caused almost drew the attention of something greater, and both pushed their minds further apart, a silent conspiracy, a quiet acknowledgement of what each was doing.
And there was one way guaranteed to push their minds apart.
Marika shrugged easily. "When he does, you can kill him."
And that would have been fine, and good, but they were still connected, and the blue cold star of their child's mind hissed and raged and Ranni turned to Blaidd and said, "We will move earlier, then, and cut them off before they can harm us."
And this is how a tragedy starts.
-.-.-
She hated childbirth. She hated that she had been forced to have children. She couldn't seem to -
The eldest, so perfect that it set her teeth on edge. He had not cried. Had not got in the way of her conquest except by his mere existence, the months having to carry him and stare at distant battlefields, and then hold him and not be allowed to lead her armies because she had to care for this parasite that had stolen flesh from her body and made it his own - even as an adult, she could never quite forgive him for being the first.
The twins - the first twins - who had conveniently come out wrong, wrong enough that she could say to herself, "I require a new Consort," and did not have to waste affection on them save the smallest scraps to keep them in line. She did not feel her heart twist seeing one of them reach, needily, desperately for gold that could never really be his, because he was something broken it could not touch. No parallels there. And the second, whose desires festered and boiled until he made a deal with something he shouldn't have for a power he could never quite wield -
Children? Take after their parents? Who would have thought it.
His first child with Rennala. Challenger, challenging, the first she had thought maybe I can be a parent. Until the truth of things became clear to her and all they could do was hurt each other, over and over again, similar and close enough to scratch with nails and teeth and hurl arguments centuries old with the shaking force of thunderbolts, enough force to split a world in two. At least there had been a level of respect there.
Her second child with Rennala. Studious, whipsmart, subversive. In every way a weak imitation, a shadow-puppet of their elder. The first time he had looked at their red hair held in Rennala's arms and thought no, this will not last. And in the shadows things grew and grew until they burst and broke, and they had not even been there to see it, only to hear afterwards in cool tones from the killer what had become of the middle child, what war - her only real love, her only perfect child - had turned them into, and she-he had laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until starlight held a dagger of fire to their throat.
Her third child with Rennala. An idiot, and worst of all, a strong, charismatic idiot. Is there anything worse than a mirror? The only one of them who had been young enough when he left Rennala not to know the truth, and so had chased an ephemeral illusion for centuries. It was enough to make her sick.
And speaking of sickness -
The other twins, born of their own solipsism. Old and young, bound to things beyond even its touch. The moebius strip in its endless continuous search for freedom, and the child seeking perfection because anything else was death. Was there a difference, really? They'd known enough of their mind by then to not attempt anything that a sane person would call 'parenthood' - had treated them instead like the little demigods they were. Had that been wrong? It had been the closest to right that they'd managed. At least they'd hated them for real reasons, like their elder.
And the last one. The first one? The one who wasn't a child, not in - a gift from a defeated rival. Who couldn't be seen as a child. Who was meant to be trained up and sent out, the last resort -
The one whose death they felt, even in the depths of their pain, and wept, and didn't know if it was for her or for an end to the suffering they knew was coming in whatever form it would take.
They died, and died, and died. They died in droves.
And some part of Marika would always know that and feel nothing at all.
-.-.-
"Why do we keep her alive?" her Consort murmured one long journey through the darkness between stars, arms wrapped tight around Ranni as she leant back against her support, her equal, her love.
Ranni considered it. Considered the hundred small rebellions her parent had attempted over the past two decades. The screams, the raging combats, weak and strong, sometimes distracting enough that one of her or her Consort had been seriously injured. The way their golden gaze touched on everything but Mother, slowly healing Mother, desperate Mother who still, somehow, loved a monster.
"Why dost thou not kill her entire, then?" she asked.
Her Consort hummed for a moment, a quiet, contemplative thing that only she was allowed to hear. "I'm not sure. Respect? For the woman who captured Horah Loux's heart with her battle prowess." That sounded dangerously close to their thinking, and Ranni elbowed her Consort softly, annoyance tinting the un-air around them until she laughed, bright and silver as her hair, dragon-tainted eyes crinkling. "But… I feel… you need something from her. Some form of closure that can't be achieved with her dead."
"I need nothing from them," Ranni said.
A half-time later - not a day, for the world they were on was shrouded in night forever and ever by its god - as she spun the fingerslaying blade from hand to hand, parrying her parent's blows - her parents' blows, because the Eternal Queen had somehow recruited Mother for this, and she was crying, a sin that could never be forgiven, never never never because it wasn't just that Ranni was having to fight Mother it was all the days that would follow as Mother slipslid back down with her parent's eyes off her again, abusive and toxic - fighting off dark angels, choking on their haloes -
Her moon broke the pair of them, and her parents hung there, and for a moment she felt like a foolish child again. One gasped out, "Ranni," and for a moment she thought it was Mother, but -
Her parent had said her name.
Her Consort split the night, her knight, and that day she held her close and gasped, "Say my name, say my name, only say my name, I need it back - " and her Consort murmured it to her, over and over until the tears her body could not make had gone and her guts had curled back inside her fragile frictioned shell.
-.-.-
To Marika, a god was nothing. A god was an emptiness where once motivation had sat. An echo, a memory of it, something to do, a lesson in the worst kind of way. It had always been an echo. It had always just been -
-.-.-
The wolf found them in the spaces between, when her Consort had drawn ahead to scout out the nature of the gods that awaited them. Her Consort had killed him before, and if she had been here, perhaps Ranni wouldn't have been frightened.
But like this -
Ranni was a godkiller now, true and entire. But there was a difference between being a hunter of gods, and someone wielding the malevolent flaming of death of hundreds, stalking forward, tail and red-gold fire blotting out the stars. Broken blade trailing light behind it, a decreasing circle of Certainty and End.
"Cower," he commanded, and Ranni didn't, but fuck did she want to.
And then her parent was there.
"No," they said. "No, you don't get to. You don't - "
"She broke the Order. Would you gull me a third time, sister?"
"Yes. To keep the last of my children safe - to keep - to be what I should have been. I would gull you a third time. I would steal and break you again, Malekith. Thing of darkness, shadowbeast. Do you serve me still or are you finally here to do what your desires demand?"
He laughed, and pulled back the hood of his robe. "I have never been slave to my wants like you have, sister. I have served. I will be of service." His teeth gleamed impossibly white in the golden light of her parent's hammer. "Now. I hear we're killing gods. What threats to your rule do you wish me to slay, oh Queen Eternal?"
-.-.-
The apology wasn't in words. Words would never be enough.
It was in the slow way that they started looking at their Mother again. That when Mother finally, finally screamed at them, blamed them - they agreed. They said their abandonment could not be forgiven. That there was no-one to blame for it but themselves. The way they then kept their distance for decades until Mother spoke to them again, the way they respected every boundary and step Mother took.
It was in the way they said her name, her chosen name. Held it against them like an iron bar even as it seared their stone to nothing.
It was in the way that though they still gleamed gold, they were content to sit in darkness. The way they didn't dispute her choices. The way they made her Uncle heel. The way they were content to -
To not rule. To sit to one side. Once a weight, now gone. Their time past.
To simply be -
Marika. Of nowhere.
And that was an apology Ranni could accept. A blessing she could give.
Though the ceremony was small, private, and they only had eyes for each other, Ranni was not going to listen to the endless gardening metaphors in their vows sober. So, she let herself drink deep and descend into her Consort's eyes, and knew, finally, that she had her closure.
Special thanks to prime beta Lucky38, Canon Overlord @Ganurath, @hellgodsrus for being my loveliest wife and co-author, and @SolarFlare for being our wonderful supportive girlfriend! And our many friends on the Totally Chatting It discord for their fantastic livereads!
Enjoy and gib feedbacc!
CW from Hel for me being on my literary ass self-referential bullshit, abuse, internalised transphobia, and people having a bad time. The road to redemption is VERY rocky. Also, mild spoilers for some stuff in unpublished bits of Family - nothing too major though, so no worries.
Photo Album
Stars Shining Bright Above You
-.-.-
Stars Shining Bright Above You
-.-.-
They woke from pain to the place that was not a place, where the sky sat under the calm endless unbroken waters and they said So you won, then.
The thing that had killed them stood behind their fractured vessel. The newly crowned Empyrean Ascendant, flush with power in the light of stars and moon, unbroken and cold and dark and good, bowed her head. Yes, she said, in her body and form that they had never seen before and yet was hers in a way nothing else had been. Yes, I won.
So why am I alive, then? they asked. And the pain closed needles into their heart once more.
-.-.-
In Caria, and then in the shining gold-white corridors of Leyndell, there had often been a topic of philosophical discussion - hushed, because there was only one True God who Deserved Worship and all the other nonsense the Order pushed, but one discussed nonetheless. What was a god? There were taxonomical definitions of course, heretical texts from the era before the Eternal Queen's ascent, the tales of dragons and cults and other such frivolities, but for serious, sober academics the answer was simple - to be a god was to be a being of altered dimensional frequency to 'observers' such that the 'god' could act primarily upon reality only through proxies. The more proxies, the theories went, the greater their influence and power to shape reality.
To Ranni, a god was a weight. It was a feeling like a block of iron in her mind, part cultural, part something more, forcing your head down. Kneel. Obey. Here are my dictats, follow or be Cast Aside as Dregs. The Higher Mysteries require Obeissance. Stay in your position, or you will be Punished.
There was no real difference between a 'god' as academics had described it, and a tyrant. Didn't they both demand the same unquestioning following that then strengthened their grip? Didn't they both have limited ability to act themselves, relying on those who they could grant power to to enact their will?
What difference was there in the end between the thing her Consort had killed and the thing that her Consort had saved?
-.-.-
"We haven't spoken much," she ventured. "Apart from, ah. Before."
The woman across the campfire looked up, brushed her silver hair back from her cruel eyes. Shrugged. "S'alright. Know things have been a bit of a mess for you."
Rennala flexed a single pale hand and tried to prevent her smile from turning into a grimace. "I… yes, that is one way of putting it." She could not help her eyes from darting to the tent on the edge of the folded space they occupied, the one in which a faint shadow of stone and gold could be seen. Kneeling, even now. Whywhywhywhywhy it's gone you don't have to any more, why are you still so distant, I'm here, I'm right here, please -
The woman poked the fire, and the flutter of sparks, cold and burning like the stars drove Rennala out of her head. A twitch of a broad shoulder drew the heavy, furred cloak - the familiar furred cloak - back from where it had almost brushed into the flames.
"Did he - keep her safe?"
The woman with cruel eyes paused. Her face was normally still. Perhaps the faintest smile for her little Ranni, a cold smirk for foes to conquer and devour. But the rest of her face was suddenly something deeper. Something real. Before she'd been - something like stone, perhaps, but now suddenly the woman was the person, flesh and blood and child as she breathed out, and said, "He tried to. To the very end."
"I am sorry I was not there to keep her safe as well. That I was not - myself. Until after the end."
"That can't be blamed on you." The woman's voice was rough.
"Can't it? I never… got the hang of it. How to handle grief. Guilt."
The woman shrugged, cold and ice again. "I can't say I did either. Never really felt it before."
"Even him?"
A long silence, before she at last admitted, "... I did say before."
They both sat there, in a hole in the worlds, and stared into the fire, and thought about the past.
-.-.-
"Do you want me to say it, then?"
Ranni did not look back at the ruined thing that had been their parent. Their Consort and Mother were elsewhere on the world they'd come to, and its thick jungle heat was great enough to press firm even against the cold starlight under her skin. "Thou hast nothing that could be said to me that I would consider."
"Then why - you know why I did what I did, you - it was in our heads - in both our heads and you could see - "
"I could see, aye. It changes little of how it felt. Or the truth of where it learned cruelty."
Silence, and the patter of rain on waxy leaves.
Finally, raspingly - "I'm - sorry. It wasn't - I shouldn't have done. What I did."
It should have been a victory. But it wasn't. It was enraging to hear something so flat, so - lifeless. A poor attempt at the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Wasn't she over this by now? Couldn't she understand why? There, they had said sorry, wasn't that enough?
Gravity curled around the mass of their rage like the hands of their Consort, intimate and cool. Mass pressed together into heat and light, and for a moment they forgot why they hunted gods, and considered the possibility of simply tearing this place asunder in entirety, the star that would be birthed, small and hot and white and better than anything living here. After all, could you ever throw off a yoke when you'd worn it since birth? Even if that weight was gone, you'd always feel it on your neck, the weight and shape of a body too heavy and broad and notright and please make it stop and I don't want this but it'd always be there.
Ranni settled instead for the silence her rage brought on in her parent, and the joy of taking the fat, bulbous and bubous tick of a god that drank of this world and crushing it into nothing in four tiny hands.
-.-.-
To be two minds connected was to be one mind in some ways. There were things hidden, but there were things that weren't. So when Blaidd turned to Ranni and Alecto turned to Marika and both said, miles apart, "When will they betray us?", the echo it caused almost drew the attention of something greater, and both pushed their minds further apart, a silent conspiracy, a quiet acknowledgement of what each was doing.
And there was one way guaranteed to push their minds apart.
Marika shrugged easily. "When he does, you can kill him."
And that would have been fine, and good, but they were still connected, and the blue cold star of their child's mind hissed and raged and Ranni turned to Blaidd and said, "We will move earlier, then, and cut them off before they can harm us."
And this is how a tragedy starts.
-.-.-
She hated childbirth. She hated that she had been forced to have children. She couldn't seem to -
The eldest, so perfect that it set her teeth on edge. He had not cried. Had not got in the way of her conquest except by his mere existence, the months having to carry him and stare at distant battlefields, and then hold him and not be allowed to lead her armies because she had to care for this parasite that had stolen flesh from her body and made it his own - even as an adult, she could never quite forgive him for being the first.
The twins - the first twins - who had conveniently come out wrong, wrong enough that she could say to herself, "I require a new Consort," and did not have to waste affection on them save the smallest scraps to keep them in line. She did not feel her heart twist seeing one of them reach, needily, desperately for gold that could never really be his, because he was something broken it could not touch. No parallels there. And the second, whose desires festered and boiled until he made a deal with something he shouldn't have for a power he could never quite wield -
Children? Take after their parents? Who would have thought it.
His first child with Rennala. Challenger, challenging, the first she had thought maybe I can be a parent. Until the truth of things became clear to her and all they could do was hurt each other, over and over again, similar and close enough to scratch with nails and teeth and hurl arguments centuries old with the shaking force of thunderbolts, enough force to split a world in two. At least there had been a level of respect there.
Her second child with Rennala. Studious, whipsmart, subversive. In every way a weak imitation, a shadow-puppet of their elder. The first time he had looked at their red hair held in Rennala's arms and thought no, this will not last. And in the shadows things grew and grew until they burst and broke, and they had not even been there to see it, only to hear afterwards in cool tones from the killer what had become of the middle child, what war - her only real love, her only perfect child - had turned them into, and she-he had laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until starlight held a dagger of fire to their throat.
Her third child with Rennala. An idiot, and worst of all, a strong, charismatic idiot. Is there anything worse than a mirror? The only one of them who had been young enough when he left Rennala not to know the truth, and so had chased an ephemeral illusion for centuries. It was enough to make her sick.
And speaking of sickness -
The other twins, born of their own solipsism. Old and young, bound to things beyond even its touch. The moebius strip in its endless continuous search for freedom, and the child seeking perfection because anything else was death. Was there a difference, really? They'd known enough of their mind by then to not attempt anything that a sane person would call 'parenthood' - had treated them instead like the little demigods they were. Had that been wrong? It had been the closest to right that they'd managed. At least they'd hated them for real reasons, like their elder.
And the last one. The first one? The one who wasn't a child, not in - a gift from a defeated rival. Who couldn't be seen as a child. Who was meant to be trained up and sent out, the last resort -
The one whose death they felt, even in the depths of their pain, and wept, and didn't know if it was for her or for an end to the suffering they knew was coming in whatever form it would take.
They died, and died, and died. They died in droves.
And some part of Marika would always know that and feel nothing at all.
-.-.-
"Why do we keep her alive?" her Consort murmured one long journey through the darkness between stars, arms wrapped tight around Ranni as she leant back against her support, her equal, her love.
Ranni considered it. Considered the hundred small rebellions her parent had attempted over the past two decades. The screams, the raging combats, weak and strong, sometimes distracting enough that one of her or her Consort had been seriously injured. The way their golden gaze touched on everything but Mother, slowly healing Mother, desperate Mother who still, somehow, loved a monster.
"Why dost thou not kill her entire, then?" she asked.
Her Consort hummed for a moment, a quiet, contemplative thing that only she was allowed to hear. "I'm not sure. Respect? For the woman who captured Horah Loux's heart with her battle prowess." That sounded dangerously close to their thinking, and Ranni elbowed her Consort softly, annoyance tinting the un-air around them until she laughed, bright and silver as her hair, dragon-tainted eyes crinkling. "But… I feel… you need something from her. Some form of closure that can't be achieved with her dead."
"I need nothing from them," Ranni said.
A half-time later - not a day, for the world they were on was shrouded in night forever and ever by its god - as she spun the fingerslaying blade from hand to hand, parrying her parent's blows - her parents' blows, because the Eternal Queen had somehow recruited Mother for this, and she was crying, a sin that could never be forgiven, never never never because it wasn't just that Ranni was having to fight Mother it was all the days that would follow as Mother slipslid back down with her parent's eyes off her again, abusive and toxic - fighting off dark angels, choking on their haloes -
Her moon broke the pair of them, and her parents hung there, and for a moment she felt like a foolish child again. One gasped out, "Ranni," and for a moment she thought it was Mother, but -
Her parent had said her name.
Her Consort split the night, her knight, and that day she held her close and gasped, "Say my name, say my name, only say my name, I need it back - " and her Consort murmured it to her, over and over until the tears her body could not make had gone and her guts had curled back inside her fragile frictioned shell.
-.-.-
To Marika, a god was nothing. A god was an emptiness where once motivation had sat. An echo, a memory of it, something to do, a lesson in the worst kind of way. It had always been an echo. It had always just been -
-.-.-
The wolf found them in the spaces between, when her Consort had drawn ahead to scout out the nature of the gods that awaited them. Her Consort had killed him before, and if she had been here, perhaps Ranni wouldn't have been frightened.
But like this -
Ranni was a godkiller now, true and entire. But there was a difference between being a hunter of gods, and someone wielding the malevolent flaming of death of hundreds, stalking forward, tail and red-gold fire blotting out the stars. Broken blade trailing light behind it, a decreasing circle of Certainty and End.
"Cower," he commanded, and Ranni didn't, but fuck did she want to.
And then her parent was there.
"No," they said. "No, you don't get to. You don't - "
"She broke the Order. Would you gull me a third time, sister?"
"Yes. To keep the last of my children safe - to keep - to be what I should have been. I would gull you a third time. I would steal and break you again, Malekith. Thing of darkness, shadowbeast. Do you serve me still or are you finally here to do what your desires demand?"
He laughed, and pulled back the hood of his robe. "I have never been slave to my wants like you have, sister. I have served. I will be of service." His teeth gleamed impossibly white in the golden light of her parent's hammer. "Now. I hear we're killing gods. What threats to your rule do you wish me to slay, oh Queen Eternal?"
-.-.-
The apology wasn't in words. Words would never be enough.
It was in the slow way that they started looking at their Mother again. That when Mother finally, finally screamed at them, blamed them - they agreed. They said their abandonment could not be forgiven. That there was no-one to blame for it but themselves. The way they then kept their distance for decades until Mother spoke to them again, the way they respected every boundary and step Mother took.
It was in the way they said her name, her chosen name. Held it against them like an iron bar even as it seared their stone to nothing.
It was in the way that though they still gleamed gold, they were content to sit in darkness. The way they didn't dispute her choices. The way they made her Uncle heel. The way they were content to -
To not rule. To sit to one side. Once a weight, now gone. Their time past.
To simply be -
Marika. Of nowhere.
And that was an apology Ranni could accept. A blessing she could give.
Though the ceremony was small, private, and they only had eyes for each other, Ranni was not going to listen to the endless gardening metaphors in their vows sober. So, she let herself drink deep and descend into her Consort's eyes, and knew, finally, that she had her closure.
Ethan Eldritch
Multi-Dimensional Eldritch Tree
- Location
- The Void between
- Pronouns
- Tree
You live! Thanks for the chapter.