ORIGIN - Fury

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As Legion clung to the walls, they would find out who else stalked the white frost of Mother's influence. But this one that draws near to them isn't an enemy.

Tourmaline had been here as the walls came down. She'd also been in Gemini, offering some (pathetic) resistance. And while she had not done much here, she'd do all she can to fight back against the creeping, ensnarling Mother.

Deep breath. In. Out. Don't let it get to you, she thinks, before summoning her magic. By fire be purged. Paws hot like embers reached for the white fungus, burning it black to ash. Tourmaline would wander over bones and rocks, clearing out a swathe to the best of her ability, before she nearly sets a paw down on Legion's own work, distinctly red and not white. She manages to stop herself in time.

"Huh."

@Legion

Legion's approach--made after long internal debate, and a stretching silence--was a soft hum, a cloud of brown-gray mites that flitted over and descended to the ground a few feet in front of Tourmaline. Their voice--imbued with that same buzzing--came hesitant.

"You are an enemy of Order?" they asked--then hastened to add, in case it was unclear, "We are this, too."

To offer evidence of this, the swarm all turned as one, shifting to face a patch of white--which melted away, withering and growing further into other clots of white mold farther on. It left another bare patch beside Tourmaline's own. They then addressed the red that the cat had set paw upon: "We grew that, so that the white cannot grow there." It made sense to them, at least--it was a firebreak, of a sort. Plant mold, so other mold couldn't grow. Time would tell if it were truly successful. "We have seen... the dangers Mother poses." We can't speak of all of it, they thought, mournfully, for introducing themselves as a former drone would hardly be inspiring of trust. "If you are... enemy of Order. You are friend of us. We are Legion," they introduced themselves, still watching Tourmaline with hopeful wariness.

@Tourmaline

Tourmaline studies the patch of rust colored fungus for a moment, heat in her paws fading, before she hears the buzzing of Legion's approach. She turns, ready to fight, should this be some agent of the Praetors, but what she finds... seems harmless enough. Their declaration of being an enemy of Order is also great to hear.

"Yes, I am an enemy of Order. Of Mother " she declares with certainty. No reason to hide it - her enemies have already seen her act against them, it is no secret.

She watches the swarm curiously, as they strip away the white fungus with their magic. It's a kind of magic that Tourmaline hasn't seen before - but incredibly helpful in the current situation. "You're blocking it from retaking lost ground... Good idea."

Not sure how I can do that myself, she thinks.

After a pause, Tourmaline continues addressing Legion. "I have seen some of the horrors myself. That is why I fight. My name is Tourmaline," she shares in return.

As she is speaking, she circles around, the cinders under her paws flaring back to life as she clears out another swathe of white fungus, carefully avoiding the interspersed patches of red.

@Legion

They remained silent, myriad little forms settled on the red, wings twitching in their readiness to flee. But this one seemed not only truly friendly, but also honest. The proof of this was in her very actions.

"We are... grateful," they decided, "to find allies in this. Too many kill for Order. It controls, if you breathe it, eat it," they explained, a warning in case Tourmaline did not know. 

And, questioningly, they sent their magic out to check that Tourmaline truly wasn't infested. Though they knew it wasn't necessary, now--they'd seen those who served Order, yet carried none of the fungus, either. Legion wasn't sure why that was, but it was concerning.

The tentative touch of magic should tell them whether Tourmaline was host to fungus--though Legion would be unable to tell if it were that of Order or her own, as they indeed carried their own spores now. "We can... work together?" they suggested, a thoughtful buzz rippling through their swarm. "You can... clear it, and we can grow the red in its place."

Then they waited, to see what the cat might think of this plan--and to see what their magic showed them of her, too.

@Tourmaline

Perhaps if it were anywhere else, Tourmaline would be more curious about Legion, how they are both many but one... but here, behind enemy lines, she has no such luxury.

"...I'd been avoiding touching it... but I didn't know it could do that," she admits. While she knew something about the fungus was wrong, she had no idea it could claim you simply for not being careful around it. "Thank you."

Perhaps by now she should have searched for Legion's radiation, but their brutal honesty seemed proof enough. Tourmaline also worried that whatever came off of them would be drowned out by the Order surrounding them, coating the cave in a suffocating death pall.

Legion's proposal seemed sensible enough. "The forces of Order work together. To stand alone against them is to march into death."

She then turns back to the Order, setting a confident paw on it... only to recoil when she feels the slime rather than ashes. "...Not now, please," she begs to her magic.

@Legion

"You are-... welcome," they answered, after a moment. It was strange, and wearying, this constant battle of paranoia with their natural urge toward cooperation. But they sensed nothing concerning on Tourmaline, at least. And her comment gave them pause. "You are right," they answered, at length, their many eyes shifting down to watch Tourmaline's attempt at magic. "We must help each other, too. The Hive is-..." But how could they describe it-? The perfect unity of a hivemind swarm, sharing constant input, observations, senses, reactions, so much so that they could all act as one? As Legion themselves did? "They are as we are," they tried to explain. "Many with one mind. But we are not them," and this was vehement.

They gathered that Tourmaline's magic had failed, and a shiver of commiseration went through their myriad little wings, a ripple through the swarm. "Why is magic so... unreliable?" they mused aloud, sympathetic. They weren't sure exactly what had happened, but stepping straight into the white fungus was not likely to have been Tourmaline's intent.

"We will help," they assured softly, in that renewed spirit of teamwork.

They pushed their own magic (hoping it, too, did not fail) toward Tourmaline's paws, to draw off the white mold on and beneath her, to cleanse her immediate area. Best if she did not get infected.

@Tourmaline

The sight of the white withering away was a relief. She didn't want to be near it any more than she had too, and speed was paramount.

"...A hive? Many as one..," Tourmaline echoes, pondering. An enemy that could act as one. It was a terrifying thought, to be brought down and torn asunder by nothing but cogs in a machine. Each passing moment revealed to her the horrors of Order more and more.

It clearly has only just begun.

She shakes her head. She has a job to do, and no point cowering in fear. Looking back to the Legion, she huffs, "It's unreliable, but it's the best thing we have. Compared to Order's soldiers..."

With that she wills her magic alive again. The fire in her paws is weak, sure, but it's definitely there, and enough to start clearing more of Mother's fungus.

@Legion

They hummed back as a swarm, moving away again in that idle, businesslike manner that suggested teamwork side-by-side. As they worked, as they called upon their own magic (carpets of rust-colored fungus blooming in the empty spaces), they noted with satisfaction that Tourmaline's now seemed to function.

Good; they could... socialize, then. Communicate. It was hard--trauma from past 'friendships' always lingered at the end of every word, a fear with it, but the individual drones of Legion's swarm were too drawn to others to ever really be put off. Even when half of them had been slaughtered-... But they didn't wish to consider that now.

"Tourmaline," they said, as if considering her name a little belatedly--then went on, "will you... tell us, about yourself? Why are you enemy of Order, as well? Where do--did you hatch?" And so on went unsaid, because Legion--nervous--could think of little else to ask just yet.

But this... was probably a potential friend, and they wanted to see if they could come to know her better.

Tourmaline slots into coordination with Legion pretty well, marching up and down clearing the fungus. And together, their tandem makes slow, but steady work.

The offer to talk about herself hangs in the air for a moment, as she considers. The sense of being watched makes her hesitate, that what she says here will be used against her - but Legion seems inviting and honest enough, and she'd never turn down someone earnest.

"I hatched in Polaris," she starts, quiet but honest, "and I wandered the caves, trying to find a way to be useful. I helped other Gembounds where I could."

But Tourmaline's tone turns dark as she continues, "I was here, in Canis, when they descended upon us. Several of us hid in the bone castle, with Raoshar. The Order didn't attack us, but when they talked... one of them bowed down for the other to kill it in front of us." She shivers at the thought. "That's when I realized - that their servants are nothing more than dolls to them."

Her magic holds strong, as she pauses a moment to reinforce the spell. "Then they were in Gemini. Several of us tried to fend them off... but then more came. I ran, because what was I to do against those monstrosities?"

@Legion

An unsteady hum--like a shiver--ran through Legion as Tourmaline finished her story. They worked on spreading their fungus where she'd left gaps, to take a place so Mother could not spread here. But while part of the swarm focused on that, the rest considered what she'd said.

"They are," they agreed. "Like dolls. We were... with them, once. A swarm inside a swarm. The Mother makes you feel things," they explained, the buzz of their voice soft with old horrors. "Good feelings, to make you obey. But they are not real. And when you break free you realize that, finally. That you were a slave. A doll," they corrected, myriad glinting eyes turning to peer at Tourmaline as they adopted the word she'd used. 

"It lies. It lies to get what it wants."

After a moment, the eyes shifted back downward, the swarm assessing its work--but the spores had not taken. They hummed in thought. 

"Magic is unstable," they said, trying for some humor.

@Tourmaline

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