ORIGIN

"I mean that there's two halves to this... thing. White spirit, dark spirit. I saw the clouds that you saw, but no eyes... maybe I didn't go deep enough?" he said, looking down, "Why does it take so much effort to see the white spirit? Why... there's something wrong. I think. Why is the white spirit below the dark one, in a sense?"

James stepped back and away from the Spire, ears down and brows furrowed, "... At least Astraea isn't here. For now we have time to compare notes. What do you think?"

The stallion looked up at Khloros, ears perked up again as he wondered what the other thought. Clearly he wasn't crazy, so his respect for the other had gone up quite a bit.

Khloros eyed James, a little puzzled.

"You're suggesting that what Astraea fears, is white and black, but not good and bad?" he asked. There was no real tone in it, bar faint confusion; he wasn't sure he'd understood the colt's meaning correctly, and he wanted to be sure.

He knew his own thoughts on the topic, of course, but he couldn't quite clarify until he understood what James was driving at.

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James wished he had a diagram or something.

"No- well yes- okay I'm going to start over," he said, and inhaled, "I don't think Astraea is afraid of the Spire. I think he's afraid of the spirits it holds. What it means. The darker spirit could be bad from what we've seen if it's actions, and the white one could be benevolent or good. It seems that way, but because we can't exactly ask without getting vague visions, we can't be sure. We can assume for now."

He was definitely rambling, and he wasn't quite sure if he was getting any of his words right, but he was too far gone at that point.

"You said the dark spirit only had eyes and dark clouds as a form... and then the white spirit, what did they look like? Because I don't think they're Gembound, or anything like that," he said.

Khloros blinked, somewhat confused. Perhaps James was still younger than he'd realized, but he set himself to explaining.

"That is true. I did not say he was afraid of the Spire, James. He attacked me to protect it." He wasn't sure how the other horse had come to that conclusion to begin with, but it didn't matter, and it didn't bother him; he also knew that he wasn't the most clear-spoken at times, particularly when his strange memories were swarming his mind.

He had thought, too, that the good-being and bad-being thing had been clear enough. "And yes; the dark creature was... destruction, and chaos. The white one was most certainly kind. It had... hm. A gentle face. Arms? Hands that held my head. But I cannot remember much of it; only... Well, you must remember that I had just been torn apart, in a fight. Died. I saw it for only a brief glimpse. I remember that there was only white space around it; it was... Its face was... hm. Rounded-? No hair, I think..." Khloros trailed off, trying to think.

For a moment it might have seemed, perhaps, that he was done speaking--but memory trickled in, and he struggled to describe the creature he had seen in his dying dream. "It was-... perhaps my size? And yours; furless, I... think. I did not see much of its body, only the face, arms, as I lay dying. It had... lamb-like ears... twisting white horns. Thick. A flat face, ahh--gentle-... A flattened nose? Rounded eyes, I think--I do not remember, but I think they were reflecting golden light. I felt hands holding my face. That's all I remember; that is all that I saw."

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James felt that cluttered feeling threatening to overwhelm him, when he got going too fast and his mouth struggled to keep up with his brain. He snapped his mouth shut as Khloros spoke, ears perking up.

"... I wish I could have seen them, asked them who they were..." he mumbled, "... I have a terrible feeling that everything's not as it seems. Astraea's a Master, right? Are there more?"

James looked back at the Spire and furrowed his brows, ears falling down, "... Though maybe... maybe we should keep this to ourselves. The more people who know this, the more people that could get hurt. If Astaea finds out because someone was too loose-lipped about it, then we could be risking others."

He looked back at Khloros again, frowning, feeling a bit helpless, "I will be honest, I came here to learn to hopefully share to others the truth about these caves, but I'm not so sure now. I think I may have bitten off more than I could chew."

Ears flicked as he listened.

"There are many Masters, I think. I believe the one that Dragon answers to is a Master. That the one they called Nemean the Betrayer is a Master; that Tenzin and perhaps the black dragon were Masters, too. But I am unsure; their names are not always mentioned with a title."

As far as James' plans, Khloros glanced to him, head cocked a tad to one side.

"Pride was present when I woke, James. He looked into my mind. And saw my memories for himself. I have been present at the meetings of the groups, all of them, and told them my story. Most of those in the caves already know, I think; I have done my best to spread this word." A pause, and then an almost gentle addition: "It is not something you need make your responsibility."

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James nodded and looked away, an unhappy look on his face, "I want to learn- I want to know why everyone's so scared of Astraea, why Astraea's scared... Why we're in these caves and what the Spire's trying to tell us."

He wanted those he loved to be safe.

James shook his head, "Thank you, Khloros. I'm going to be organizing gatherings for everyone to come to. There will be food and everyone can share their stories. Sometimes it'll be that, and other times we can share magical knowledge or sparring lessons for everyone and younger Gembounds. I'd like you to come."

Khloros snorted, softly, sardonically.

"'Everyone' is not afraid of Astraea. And those who are perhaps fear him because he is-... He cares nothing for us. He has said we are mistakes. That we, and our stones, belong to them. That we are not free. That they purged our predecessors. Astraea is not our friend."

As for the gatherings, Khloros peered at James.

"I cannot teach anyone magic. Nor can I learn it, and I have no need for social gatherings. Did you want me to come to tell them what I know-?" he added, head still tilted slightly to one side.

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"Hmph. Well, they hate him is what I'm trying to say. Most of them," he grumbled softly.

James frowned again, "... One of these days I'm going to call him a bitch. That'll be the day that I figure out how to defeat him. Because I will! We will! He's a tyrant!"

He snorted and flicked his tail before nudging Khloros with his nose, "Silly. That's what's going to happen, but I want you there because you're you. Because you're just as important as Pride, or Dragon, or Aure, or Vargas- screw Vargas, honestly, he's not invited- but I'd love to have you there to spend time with everyone. It's supposed to be fun! Like a party."

James smiled at Khloros and stood beside him, nearly as tall as the others, "... One of these days I'll help you get your magic back, too. Not that being without takes away your worth. I feel like I owe it to you, for all that you've done for all of us."

Khloros was silent, for a very long moment. His mind was running back over a thousand memories--flickers of visions from childhood to the Spire, memories of betrayals uncounted, disappearances, murders.

Social gatherings were not his things. The caves were a place of cruelty, and looking to others, he could not help but see the potential for their own darkness. It wasn't that he blamed, or hated; he just held no interest in mingling, in forcing small talk and smiles, when he would not enjoy it at all. He had no desire to crush the colt's enthusiasm, though, so he offered a faint and non-committal dip of his head.

He spoke his thoughts, though paraphrased: "If you ever want me to tell my story, James, I would be happy to come; but social gatherings are not... my thing."

His tone was not unfriendly; it even touched on apologetic. But Louie's leer and the battered, maddened form of Booker, Nemesis (long-vanished) and the snarl of a blood-maddened white dragon-beast, lingered in his memories; and he had no intention of trying to force a revisiting of friendship again.

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