ORIGIN

Archimedes was keeping himself busy, today. A good amount of spoils--payment, loot, he wasn't certain--was here to be divided up and hoarded, and he preferred to keep a running tally of what the Organization as a whole owned.

It was not, truth be told, a lot. Certainly not enough. His desire to grow the group was strong, but the caves had not proven to be the ripe-for-the-picking sort of environment he'd foreseen. It wasn't impossible to adapt to, but it bore consideration first and foremost. He'd have to think about this.

It was difficult to sell mercenary skills to a cave full of already militant creatures, many of whom were far larger and even more bristling than they. It was harder still to steal when others had nothing to take, living nomadic in-the-moment sorts of lives.

Ahh, well.

He mentally nudged the Golden Charger, the serpent slithering forward to push a hunk of gemstone in amongst a pile. To the left, scrap metal and other scavenged pieces were heaped. It would be best, he thought, musing, if we were somewhere... better-suited to us. That Cassiopeia, perhaps.

Now there was a thought. He could picture it; those flickering lights, those massive buildings, filled with their great family.

The idea, too, of the Piano lounging within four walls tickled him, somehow.

Archimedes turned, ears flicking and whiskers twitching, to meet Rhapsody's arrival. "Welcome back," he said, dropping down and turning fully toward them. His demeanor held some warmth; he was never an overly emotionally demonstrative sort. But he did bear loyalty enough to family, and the Organization was his 'family.'

He dropped down from the Charger, leaving it behind to come closer, a sort of comfortable conversational distance left between he and the child he had mostly raised.

He gave the question only a moment's thought, paws passing through his whiskers as he cleaned them for a moment of the grime he'd been engrossed in. Metals and gemstones held a sort of tarnish that seemed to stick, he'd found.

"Doru," he repeated, thinking back. "Yes, I think so. What would you like to know about them? -A physical description? Or..." One tiny paw waved as he sought the right words. "What their personality was like? You've never asked for details on the circumstances of your hatching," he added. "Or--everything?"

He cocked his head, studying Rhapsody for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at the work half-done. "I've a fish down by the water. It didn't have a stone, I don't think. But I haven't eaten yet; if you'd like we can catch you one with a stone, and we can eat while we talk. If you want the entire story," he added, as if a little amused.

Archimedes nodded, turning back to climb atop the snake's head. His demeanor was one of approval. "Knowledge is a powerful currency," he said, in a tone of agreement, as the golden serpent slithered down toward the shore. "It's never good to be caught without. Well! Let's rectify that; a little bit of payment your way--metaphorically speaking." He thought back, visibly going over his memories, his gaze a bit distant as he mused.

As they reached the waterline, and he hopped down to nose about for the dead fish, he began to speak again.

"I will warn you, we only met once. I can give you my impressions, but that's all they are--you understand?" This warning was given kindly, his glance back not quite warm but certainly not cool, either. "Physically they were very large--but many others seem large, to me. Tall," Archimedes clarified, thoughtfully. "Winged. Sort of dull blue, I think, with yellow streaks and hair, and light-colored antlers. Purple eyes. Claws." He thought for a moment, but couldn't remember much more.

"Then there are the names they mentioned. Others of your... bloodline, I suppose?" he half-suggested, with yet another glance back, as though he wasn't quite sure that it was the right word. "Names that described traits, so I suppose it was a family thing. Pride and Dread, and then another-... ahh, something musical. Cadence? No-... Cadenza, I think. And an Erasmus. Doru was very..." and here the rat sat back, thinking, whiskers twitching.

His further description, as it came, bore no tone of insult nor was it intended that way; though those who knew the traits of which he spoke might conceivably see them as insults. Archimedes intended only truth, though. "Factual. Cold. They spoke of being unable to feel love, or maybe they weren't sure--I don't remember, now. But raising a child, they said, would be a burden. That did not mean they didn't care for your fate, and they wanted to ensure you would be raised by those who could care for you. They listed the potential abilities you might have, the physical traits, and so on, so that if you were hatched and proved dangerous to us, we would be prepared. The blood-drinking, the venom-... all of that. Beyond that, they seemed... easy to offend, even accidentally. I would not say arrogant, exactly, but prideful. Personally? They struck me as someone who didn't speak to others much, and found others hard to read. But they also said they were skilled at picking up others' feelings, so..." Archimedes shrugged, furry shoulders rising and then falling, a miniscule gesture. "There is not much more to say, truth be told. They were very practical and to the point--a trait that I can respect. Though," he added, with an appraising glance to Rhapsody, "I believe you would have been less happy raised by them."

Maybe it was a trick of Rhapsody's musical voice. Or maybe it was just the childlike innocence and worry with which they asked their questions. But Archimedes did not think that Doru would have been the best option for handling Rhapsody's emotions. And coming from a somewhat manipulative little would-be mob-boss of a rat, that was a hell of a statement to offer.

Archimedes considered the question, nibbling on food as he did so. Now and then he sat back to fastidiously swipe through his whiskers, cleaning them; but on the whole he listened and spoke between bites.

He had to think back, beady eyes squinting as he tried to piece through his few memories of that day. It wasn't that his memory was poor, exactly; it was just that their time together--his and Doru's--had been exceptionally short. "I don't remember fur," he said thoughtfully, with a glance Rhapsody's way. "Hair, yes, but--skin, I think?" He could have been wrong, he knew, but he did recall the way the gemstones gleamed at the chest and he could not, at least, remember fur having covered those. "Maybe if the fur was very, very short."

As to the rest? "We are your family. You are ours," Archimedes agreed, his tone one of approval and reassurance. "But I don't know why, to answer your question. Maybe Doru told me his reasons, and I forgot--it's possible. I suspect he wanted to pass on his blood, so to speak. To have family, even if he recognized that family would be better suited elsewhere?" Again it waas a half-question, offered with a somewhat apologetic shrug.

Archimedes seemed to ascribe no more emotion to Rhapsody's statements than was there; he didn't have a tone that implied he assumed distress, or the like. Like Rhapsody, his words were mostly matter-of-fact. After a moment, though--whiskers twitching, and gaze growing curious--he spoke further. "Does that answer most of your questions-? And can I ask; do you feel... satisfied, knowing the answers?" His tone, too, was merely curious. It wasn't a demand, or a test; maybe he just wanted to get to know the "child" of the group a little better.

Archimedes considered this answer, and sat back, as if to think. His little brow creased a little, reinforcing this impression, and indeed he was thinking; after a moment he put words to the thoughts, speaking slowly, as if still musing over them.

"It is strange that she would lie to you. -You said that she backtracked..?" he asked, looking slightly puzzled. "That--what was it--when you didn't recognize it... what did she say to you?"

He couldn't quite think of any reason a stranger would lie about that, unless Doru had proven very unlikeable indeed. "And who was she?" he tacked on, wondering if that might help solve this strange little puzzle.

That wasn't to say Archimedes was ignoring Rhapsody's emotions--but the why behind this "Anala"'s actions might well influence how he went about responding.