ORIGIN

Hm. Elysium stood, straight-backed but looking down, into the unmarred blanket of snow that lay before them. Not only did they not want to disturb such pleasant perfection, but they had their eye on the strange specks of glinting dust that fell from puffy clouds clinging to the ceiling. More than once, they watched one fall and land before them, and then attempted to find it. They had yet to find any fallen snowflakes on the ground.

Perhaps it was... inspiring. They all came together to create one beautiful thing, just like us and Mother, Zero-One-Two nodded to itself.

There was, of course: a slight issue. In order to explore and learn and train, they would have to walk through snow and destroy its unscarred canvas; sow chaos among the uniform, soft lines of the near horizon and ruin the beauty before them. The drone could not think of such a fate worse than this. A lingering, nagging fear deep within its gut seeded the concern that to do so would to become a shameful thing to the Mother.

Nine feet tall, unmoving and unblinking, Zero-One-Two had stood in their exact spot for several hours. They were so still, in fact, that the snowfall had dusted their plasticine skin ivory and applied a layer of frost to their stiff limbs. They did not entirely mind. From here, at least, they could serve another purpose: they could watch the land and warn the others if a stranger ventured too close to the hive.

It was lonely, of course. But they did it for Her.

Slowly, it blinked-- a stiff sort of movement as though it were trying to pry themselves free from ice. Which, partially, it was. A low creak of their head as they half-instinctively looked around, and then a slight shake as shimmering snow fell onto their face. Down the line of the Hivemind's link there was brief hesitation: the empty, thoughtless kind, of someone not entirely knowing how to initially respond.

Its first words to Ananke were automatic: some buried-deep instinct that called to her when Elysium went briefly searching for them. Zero-One-Two Guardian. Elysium. It did not question why or how, or what these numbers meant. They simply were: just the way it is here.

Another empty-headed beat. I am fine, it offered, though there was a twinge of uncertainty that rang from her side of the link. Was it, perhaps, not meant to be? Had it forgone some form of etiquette in this response-- was it being rude to her family? She saw plains of snow from Ananke's eyes and a figure in the distance and, carefully, turned her head to see this action mirrored in the distant statue.

Literally anyone else might have considered this imagery unsettling. I cannot see you, they admitted. But you are... near? You are coming this way? Muted excitement came with this, now, like an elderly dog lazily wagging its tail at its owner. Hello, they offered, belatedly.

Their head slowly tilted. Ananke's first response brought a strange sense of warmth and comfort to their belly: the same sort of happy, feel-good sensation Mother gave her whenever she did something good. This was quickly overriden with the rabbit's sudden disappointment. Cold shock froze Elysium's already-stiff limbs and they felt a lump in their throat. They had done something wrong. They had brought shame to something they were supposed to protect. They had to fix it.

Eyes drifted down (they had not thought to do so sooner), and for a moment, they only watched Ananke with the urge to help her, help her, help her thrumming in their chest like a heartbeat. "I... like that you are small," it droned, voice deep from its chest and monotone. There was no uncertainty that these words were genuine, however-- a little sense of wonder and pride lifting down the link. Mother made you perfectly, yes.

It did not, however, much like how... intimidating it seemed in Ananke's own vision, however. It knelt very carefully, knees to its chest, careful to not disturb the snow underneath it. It was not the most comfortable of positions; but it did not matter. They could see their sister better, here, too.

"I can... carry you. Lift you. You can... be tall, for a time," the Guardian offered carefully, head turning to the blanket of snow with its marble-like skin almost audibly creaking. "You can... see the snow, with your own eyes. It is... pretty."

They took a moment to consider Ananke's offer, one feathered limb sprouting from the side of their head twitching against the cold air. "You do not... have to do anything. The company is... nice to have." There was no real loneliness in the Hivemind, of course-- but there was certainly a feeling of emptiness standing alone, listening to everyone else chatter away.

Though the knowledge that Mother did not create all her children should not have been a surprise, Elysium felt as though they had a slight shift in their perspective in the world. They toyed with this thought for a few beats: if Mother had no created Ananke, who did? She certainly seemed quite perfect, in their eyes.

Consideration soon mulled over into acceptance, and the slightest facsimile of a smile creaked into the Guardian's mannequin face. It did not care, incidentally, if the Priestess spoke or thought. They were able to hear and understand either way. Very, very gently they took Ananke into their golden, frost-streaked hands and lifted her up. They held her as though she were glass-- and she may as well have been. She was so small, so pale, like a living snowflake had fallen into their palms.

Elysium spent a moment gently brushing away the sense of wonderment that washed across them; as well as pushing down the urge to pet Ananke further without permission, as they lifted themselves up to stand. The rabbit was hoisted up easily six or seven feet into the air as the drone held her in front of them, close to their chest, and looked out across the snow.

"The snow... individually, is very small," it explained (in case Ananke did not know how snow works). "But when it comes together it is... whole, anew. Beautiful. I like snow. It is... a wonderful thing. I think."

Pause. Once again, there were no thoughts that took Elysium's mind in the brief silence-- only the lingering awe of snowy plains. It eventually looked down towards Ananke in their hands. "I am... new. Mother created me," with just barely a hint of fondness leaking into their bland tone. "Do you... want to go higher? You can... sit on my shoulder."

The slightest dip of Elysium's chin into a nod was the only movement the Drone had left in them; they were entirely, perfectly still. Their hands may not have been the most pleasant thing to lounge on: they were cold, and they were oddly-textured, but they were steady. The Guardian felt some gentle pride in themselves. Ananke seemed happy, and the snow was wonderful, and they were able to quietly watch the distance for strangers as they spoke with family.

Smooth eyes drifted between the rabbit and the horizon. "That is... sad," they decided. They had not entirely considered it before, but to be born alone in a dank tunnel, with no Mother? Ananke must have suffered; Elysium could not even begin to imagine what it must have been like, and how lonely it must have been. Still, at least she had Mother, now, and a family.

"We should... help them," it said, softly, and there was genuine pity lain within. "Is that... what you do, as Priestess? Help others find Mother?"

As for other questions, however, it had to think about it. It had not really thought much about the world outside of Ursa and the Hive, and they found themselves drawing to a brief blank. The only thing they could think to ask, for now, was "what... are they like? The other places?"