MOTHER

A Lost Little Lamb

The constant, quiet sense of warm reassurance, of family having their back, was omnipresent.

Beyond this, Mother spoke one more time, again, through the faltering rat: "We relinquish now... our hold upon... our creature. Take it... as an exchange... for your silence. As agreed. Should you wish to... speak to us again... we will have others, here."

The rat jolted, as if something had just torn free. Yellow would still feel it: part of the Hive, yes, but now no more than eyes and ears, rather than a marionette with Mother behind its strings.

@Rift

He ended up just kind of staring at the stones set in front of him and only really looked up when Oliver conjured a little pumpkin basket to carry them in. His movements felt sluggish, as if he were wading through a thick tar. His mind was like it was underwater, each thought distorted, as if struggling through waves. He blinked slowly and then looked back down, carefully setting each of the stones inside the pumpkin. "Thank you," he said, softly, staring for a bit longer before looking back up.

He looked between the rat and the sifaka and dipped his head. "Thank you again for this. And...I am sorry. For your loss as well. It must hurt, seeing me and not...anyways, um. I won't talk about...you, I guess. Silence. I just found these in Eridanus." He glanced towards Yellow, feeling stirrings of guilt. He wondered if it was because of their death that they had come to join the Hive. If they had exchanged their freedom for peace of mind and safety in numbers.

This was all so fucked up.

He looked away, finding himself unable to look them in the eye anymore and sighed. "Goodbye, then," was the last he said before he reached forward to gently grasp the pumpkin in his jaws, lifting it so that it felt secure in his grip. He knew the stones wouldn't break should they fall, but still, they were precious to him. Precious and so very important.

He turned to glance at Oliver, eyes unreadable, before turning fully back around and making his way out of Ursa. Oliver could follow him out, but if he followed Rift all the way to the tree, he would eventually be asked to leave him for a while. A day, a week, perhaps a cycle or two, to be alone, to mourn and process.

But how could he ever truly come to terms with all the change? That his brother was dead and he had died too, and now he had both his and his brother's stone to take care of?

What was he going to do now?

*exit

@Oliver

Oliver waited, and as Rift moved to leave, he hesitated. "Do you want-..." he started to ask, but it was clear Rift didn't particularly want company. He watched him make his way off, and turned to yellow. "I should follow him. Keep an eye on him... make sure he's okay," he said, as though explaining why he was about to leave. But still, he wavered. "Um... before I go--do you... need help with anything? -Will you be okay?" he clarified, unsure.

He eyed Yellow, feeling as he did a sad sort of kinship. Yes, Order wasn't a great thing, and it was in many senses the enemy. But the sifaka-? They weren't an enemy, exactly. They clearly felt the same grief he had. They were suffering, same as he and Rift. He hated to just... leave, to abandon them to grief, standing there bereft of the two stones they'd been clinging to all this time.

@Yellow