snowed over - Printable Version

Cerilaine's gaze cast across the snow-tipped trees as her eyes narrowed. Ursa. Cold, cold Ursa.

She'd been traveling for some time with nothing but a walking stick for company. It helped her as she grew used to her legs, and it helped her now as she traversed the frozen terrain, trudging through. This was the Hive's domain. At least, if she remembered from what little time she spent in Draco, she could find them here.

Fuck, it was cold. She already started to miss her home back in Leo. Funny, how she would have loved this cave as a kid.

"Hive!" Fangs bare as she casts her voice across the forested expanse around her, eyes searching for movement above. "I wish to speak with you!" There was so little she truly knew of them— after all, she had not been awake for the battle in Leo. How could she have known her very home was at stake? For all she knew, they wished to infect and induct, but was that the truth? Was that just what those of the Forge believed?

Her breath fogged out in a cloud as she shook her head and held her arms tight. Even as someone who's magic was ice, she was still wary about staying out in the breeze for too long. Hopefully her voice wouldn't be lost in it.

Orthus was the one to meet Cerilaine. Not because he wanted to--no. Orthus would rather have been continuing to lick his wounds. But Orthus was one of the strongest. He felt an obligation to protect his siblings, especially after what'd occurred in Leo. Orthus trudged from his self-built tunnel, taking his time to approach Cerilaine in a lesiurely stroll, using Mother's infected lessers for guidance.

He approached her from the front, using his upper limbs to guide himself through the trees. He settled a safe distance from her, sitting beneath a tree. He curled a previously paralyzed forelimb inwards. It still felt numb, but sensation had slowly been returning to it with the help of his siblings.

Orthus studied her. Her symmetry was admirable, though he detested the little shiny bits she had chosen to place asymmetrically around her body. He found himself puzzled as to why any creature would choose to make themselves so visually unbalanced. Chaotic, almost. The thought set him on edge, and his limbs curled further inwards. As both a demonstration of power, and to sate his appetite, Orthus took a nearby tree into his jaws, coming out with a small but respectably sized chunk. He chewed at it loudly, breaking down the rough pine.

"You look cold." Orthus said simply.

Seeing this... creature before her put her on guard. He was strange— but so was Chaos's beasts, and she could understand why he looked this way. It could be rough in this world, couldn't it? Still, she didn't disguise the way she held her staff a little tighter, how she stood a little taller, keeping herself from backing away.

That doesn't stay long as she suppressed a wince from the show of biting into wood. Turning her gaze away to stare towards Orthus's claws in the snow, the tip of Cerilaine's finned tail flicked to and fro while she set her jaw. Breathe in, breathe out.

"I am, but it's not that terrible." Her gaze lifted to return to Orthus's eyes, looking solidly into the uppermost pair. He towered over her. Thumb tapping at her staff, she shook her head. "I'll live. But— you're Hive? I wanted some... clarification." Her free hand lifted palm up as she talked, gesturing loosely towards Orthus as she nodded.

"What do you want?" A simple question, albeit with a potentially complex answer. For all she knew, she could be following some wrong side by being told what to think by those of the Forge, being told to help in cleansing away the hive. Yes, their spreading influence was visible, yes, she knew what they could do, but why?

Was there a purpose to any of it?

Orthus did not notice Cerilaine's discomfort nor her words at first, too busy categorizing the texture. The fear did build his confidence, though. Whatever she was, Orthus could most likely take her in a fight. He swallowed his mouthful of wood. Hard and chunky on the outside, the bark crumbled nicely. Not to mention the pith inside had a stringy splintering texture that paired well with the bark. Oh--and the sticky sap that leaked as he chewed. "Pleasant! Mmm, at least an eight...no a nine." Orthus mumbled, uncaring enough to do it beneath his breath. Then remembering where he was, Orthus cleared his throat.

"I am Hive, yes." Orthus said, and he felt his pride build like a low, flickering flame. Whether it was him, or Mother influencing him, he was unaware. Orthus was one of many. One of Mother's many facets settled in the caves to tame the caves with.

"What do I want?" Orthus said, like a teacher well aware that the student could go to the bathroom. "Well, I would enjoy trying new textures. I'd like to try those crystals of Gemini, they seem like they'd shatter nicely in my jaws." Orthus raised up fully, flicking through his memories for the correct words. Now what had Mother said? "What does the Hive want? We are the stalwart forces of good Order against the madness of Chaos! We seek to bring Order and tame the madness of the caves!" Orthus settled heavily, tearing another chunk from the tree. "I would prefer to leave that to my siblings."

What a strange being. She's fairly certain that crystals aren't good in someone's system, but... who is she to speak? Putting Orthus's personal wants aside, Cerilaine's ears flicked forward as her brows pinched together. Her mouth opened, closed, followed by her jaw setting for a moment as she parsed through what he had said.

The madness of the caves? "What about those aligned with neither? Of those who don't want to be in your— ... family?" Raw Chaos had the potential to be dangerous; she'd felt the Spire when she was in Draco, felt the unease set in as she was there, but Order was nearly just as unnerving. Its touch was clear, its spread visible, and everyone was fighting its takeover.

"If Chaos— those with the Forge, true Chaos— didn't exist, would Order still spread? Is any existence outside of it too chaotic? I... don't find myself mad. I'm only trying to live, and I've never needed anyone else for that."

Orthus stopped chewing, thinking. "Neither?" A pause stretched out. Orthus seemed fully relaxed by now, unintimidated by Cerilaine. His legs were splayed out as a dog in the sun's might be. "I don't know much about anyone not Chaos nor Order. We didn't have any orders for them, so long as they stayed out the way."

Orthus hummed to himself. "You ask a lot." He began chewing again. Orthus had been trained in tactics and war--he had been expecting a surprise attack, rather than an actual conversation. A surprise attack was still on the table, yes, though Orthus could not find the willpower to prepare for one. Not while he was also working his mind. It was admittedly a gambit, but working both at the same time sounded torturous. After ruminating on the Hive's goal, tossing the idea about in his mind, an answer came to him.

"I don't know." Orthus said. "Mmm, I suppose I should ask, then. Here, while you wait--" Orthus said, tearing a softer chunk of inner wood from the abused tree and tossing it in the direction of Cerilaine. Then, wordlessly, Orthus probed Mother. Perhaps she had an answer for this outsider's question?

Her presence in his mind had been quiet, lingering without intrusion. And in the meantime, she'd sent her scouts to ensure the safety of this meeting--the safety of her beloved child.

Birds the hue of snow had closed ranks--spread just at the limit of one anothers' visions--far, far behind Cerilaine. It was not an attempt at encirclement--they were far too small to pose a physical threat, and they bore no real magic. But their eyes kept careful watch on the windswept white, ready for incursion, ready to warn Orthus with plenty of time to escape and the rest of the Hive of an imminent attack.

They saw nothing, now, and Mother's murmurs quickly brought him up to date and informed him of as much. There was praise, too, for his moving out to meet her, for his initiative and his steadiness in representing the good nature of the Hive.

And then--an answer to his questions, as Mother turned her attention to Cerilaine herself.

"We are only a threat to those who pose a threat to us. We have released their kind--those not of the House of Chaos--time and again to prove our intent," came her murmured words--spoken slowly, that Orthus might pass them on as he saw fit. "Chaos is a stain. As it grows in power, those unaligned will be wiped away. It tolerates them now only so that it may have new material to draw from, as it empowers itself after millennia of sleep, here. Tell her this," Mother urged.

"And tell her... that if she wishes to know the Hive and its mind. We can show her. She would be free to leave, afterward; to remove us from her form." (And that would almost be a relief: the asymmetry was indeed repulsive.) "But it would be... the easiest way."

Orthus closed its lower pair of eyes as it listened to Mother. Her presence and her quiet updates were a reassurance. It seemed that Cerilaine was alone. Good. They were on somewhat even ground, then. Finally Orthus opened his eyes, glancing back at Cerilaine.

"Mmm, alright. Mother says..." He began, starting a faithful relay of all that she had said. It was a slow one; his speech punctuated by pauses in which he taste-tested various parts of the landscape (whatever was in reach of his head at least). When at last he had spoken the last of Her words, Orthus finished with a yawn.

"Ah, one more thing. She also offers to show you the Hive and our mind. You would be free to leave, and to remove the Hive afterwards, but she says it would be the easiest way." Orthus had to agree with her. This was the most Orthus had spoken aloud in the scant few cycles he'd been alive. And maybe Mother's influence would get her to correct that awful asymmetry she wore. He tilts his head to one of its sides, neon red eyes boring into Cerilaine. "I don't have much of an opinion." Orthus finished. And then, because it had eaten away at him the entire conversation, he said: "I do think your wear could use some adjustment, though."

Order for them earned a flick of the ear towards Orthus. Staying out of the way. Yes, perhaps she wasn't involved in this war, but that didn't mean she didn't deserve to know. It was best to know who you're aligned to— Chaos was loud in its advertisement, and Order reserved, and yet perhaps either actions weren't quite what they seemed.

Mother's relay left the facsimile of brows pinching together, left her leaning on her walking stick as she ran the back of her palm over her chin. For now, yes, she wished to remain unaligned from Chaos, this war machine, stay with the caves rather than whatever the Forge had been doing. She didn't belong with their ranks of beasts; why should she belong?

Her tail sweeping low in the snow, Cerilaine adjusted her grip on her stick and stood a little taller, shaking her head. It was strange that Mother could simply speak to Orthus. Hesitation's bleeding into her voice, the way she took a breath, thought over her worlds. "I'll trust you." Should she do that? ... yes, because she herself had no way to be rid of the infection. Infection— more propaganda from Chaos, or the truth? This was no mere black and white. Trust goes both ways, after all, and she would rather be trusted than a target.

With a long, inward breath, she pulled her paw from her chin to her chest, digits flexing into the fluff below. Not entirely a nervous gesture— but she's more comfortable than she was. Not completely; her guard was still up, of course, but this conversation wasn't as deadly as it could have been. "Chaos is malevolent," and she only spoke this to see if she'd understood, "so you spread so it can't. Checks and balances; once it can, it'll take the caves for its own purposes, the little guy be damned. And— ... as the little guy, I like staying alive. That's what I gather, anyway. I'd rather trust someone who's respecting my autonomy— 'course, everyone claims Order does the opposite."

Ears go pulled back. "Though, I suppose every side wants everyone on their cause. I can see it, though. I— ... the destruction. The deadliness." All those interpersonal failures, the Black City... Part of her wondered if those bodies were still there. "The chaos." A little joke? Maybe. But it's true; what safety was there in Chaos? But then again, what safety was there in Order, if to align yourself with them would mean being hunted down?

Her gaze studied Orthus's teeth, the great saws that have continuously sheared and consumed, all while they had spoke. Was he nothing more than a war machine like those in Chaos? Or was he old, not built as a response, created as something natural to Order itself. She had no way of telling.

Though, she dipped her head, a slight, cautious yet amused smile twisting her lips and exposing the very tips of her fangs. "My wear? What would you suggest?" Surely she couldn't just change the spots of her fur for him. Was it the earrings, the band? She didn't have much she could change. Still, the comment was nearly out of left field and curiosity was getting the best of her.