MOTHER

A Lost Little Lamb

There was a long silence--very long--after Oliver and Rift had both spoken. It seemed as though the request were being processed. Fed up the line. A response was awaited.

In that time, snow swirled, tossed by a rush of wind. The tops of the skeletal trees rattled, and the quiet was eerie and tense. But then, at last, the Cleaner half-turned to face down the tunnel.

An Echoing Gray--one of Mother's many mouthpieces--stumbled out from the narrow mouth. It looked thin, but it was alive, and its words came halting and empty. Its eyes were glazed and white, void of thought or feeling of its own. And as it spoke, the head of the Cleaner, too, bobbed--as if both were feeling the same press of thought and emotion, the same weight of Mother's mind.

"You..." came the wheeze of the rat, and it was filled with recognition.

Along the link, another was being alerted. Summoned, even. But here and now, Mother spoke through the gray-furred Lesser, the Cleaner by its side, both staring fixedly at Rift. Ignoring Oliver; and perhaps that was relevant. Or unnerving. But they both were fixed on Rift.

"You... are dead. We saw you die," the rat murmured, something like wonder in the otherwise empty voice. The Cleaner clicked its mandibles and shuffled a few paces forward, as if to inspect Rift more closely. "We have seen you... in memories of stone... granted to our Hive. We have seen you..."

A moment's hesitation, as if Mother was thinking on what to say.

"We could show you. If you join to us... even for a few moments. You... and the other. The one our child called... 'Big Brother. Sebby.'"

The wind whistled past, its chill discordant against the pet name the mindless puppet of a rat had just uttered.

"He died. You died... together. We have your... stones." A long pause, and then the Gray's head tilted, a little unnaturally far to one side. An indication, perhaps, of interest, of curiosity--but too far, too wrong. "How are you... alive?"

@Yellow @Rift

Rift stared at the Cleaner and it stared back. It was…weird. Incredibly unnerving. The stillness and silence and he wondered what the hell was happening with it. He glanced towards Oliver again, put off by his description - a drone, the Hive. The cause of the fungus taking over Eridanus that he was fighting back. By all rights this should be an enemy. But right now it was his only chance.

And then another was appearing, a large rat. Rift stared more, further confused. Until it spoke and he saw into its eyes that it wasn’t in control.

Hive. Hivemind. Someone is speaking through it.
It only had to utter those three words for Rift’s entire world to turn on its head.

”D-dead? But I’m…I’m not dead. I’m here!” He flinched as the Cleaner approached, instinctively backing away from its prying, but he didn't fully pull back, looking between the two. Confusion so thick it was almost causing his head to hurt. Why did this thing think he was dead? How would it know, and Oliver didn't? He didn't believe it, couldn't believe it, until...it said that name.

Sebby?

It felt like his heart had dropped from his body. She knew his name. Sebastian. And he was dead. And, apparently, Rift was as well. But that wasn't possible, because here he was. Alive. Breathing, existing, and very much not dead. But then a stray thought interrupted, calling back to the words he'd hear in his final dreams. "You were Remembered fondly." Remembered. Like he'd been gone.

Feeling numb, he turned to Oliver, staring helplessly, as if he didn't know what to do or say (he did not, in fact). "Oliver?" It was a helpless plea. He didn't know what to do, what to believe. He glanced at the rat again, willing to take the offer, but he wasn't sure if he could trust it. Something felt wrong, so wrong. He gulped again. "I don't..." He looked at his friend again. "How could I have died? I don't understand."

He was reaching for threads, all these stray pieces in his brain felt like he'd been tangled in a giant tumbleweed. He snatched one up and his head turned towards the rat again. "Wait, you said...your child called him his brother? Who is that?"

@Oliver

He stayed back, shifting uncertainly in place, feathers ruffling and gaze (and thus, his entire head) flicking between the Cleaner, the rat, and Rift. The cougar's question had him first flinching, then shaking his owlish head in some confusion.

"I--don't think you did?" he answered, puzzled and alarmed both. "I mean, you can't have. Not really. Maybe they meant you were knocked back into your stone. I've heard some people call that 'dying,'" he added, but there was doubt in his own tone. It didn't sound right. But it was the only explanation he could think of.

His stare flicked back to the Cleaner, and his eyes narrowed, some, in thought. "I'm not 'joining' with you," he answered, but his tone was empty of malice. As an afterthought, he looked to the Gray. And, impulsively--wings ruffling--he spoke again. "Can I have the rat?"

It was an abrupt question, with no indication as to why he might want it. Given his form, perhaps it was to eat.

RIFT. RIFT IS ALIVE. RIFT IS HERE.

It felt like falling.

They were sheltered safely in a calm tunnel deep beneath the surface, yet it felt like the breath had been ripped from their lungs, as if blizzard-level winds were blowing in their face, keeping them from drawing a breath. It felt like the subtle urges of the collar the Collector had given them had finally caught them unaware and propelled them off the edge of a precipice, and they were plummeting. No, they were soaring. Or maybe they were frozen, suspended in midair, caught unmoving in time. It was exhilarating and terrifying.

If Rift is here, where's... where's Sebby? Their mind flickered, uncertain, between jumbled thoughts. Their gems, tucked away in a safe alcove of the tunnels, held by the eternity of Order and of ice in the frozen landscape, had not been moved. Rift is here. So the glittering yet lifeless gems didn't mean they were dead. Where's Sebby? Yellow half turned in the direction of the alcove, as if if they rushed there now, they would find the black puma where the ruby had been, waiting for them. No, that was impossible. But Rift is HERE.

As if a rubber band holding them in place had snapped, the sifaka suddenly dashed toward the surface. Alive, alive, here. They felt alive, blood pounding through their arteries, lungs ballooning with breaths of air as they leaped and bounded along the winding tunnels. If the shock of Rift's appearance had sent them falling from high up, this surge of hope and joy had given them wings. They burst from the mouth of the tunnel and stumbled a little in the snow. The green cat was there, just like they had seen through the eyes of the Cleaner and the Rat and Mother. Rift.

"Rift," they cried, scrambling through the snow toward their brother. It was supposed to be a greeting or maybe a cry of delight but it sounded almost pleading. Please be real. Please be okay. Please let Sebby be okay and out there too. Please let me find him too. "Rift, you're- you're okay! You're here." They laughed with more than a hint of a sob in the laughter. They scrambled closer, reaching out to clutch the cougar's shoulder in a tight hug, if the two would allow them closer. "I thought- I saw- something terrible. I'm so glad you're okay." They really were crying now, their words thick as they formed around tears. "Where's- have you seen... Sebby?" Wide golden eyes peered up at the two unexpected guests, shining with moisture and hope.

@Rift

MOTHER

A Lost Little Lamb

There was no reason to respond--not yet, not to them--because here came the one of which they asked. Her child, tumbling free from the tunnels of ice and snow, rushing toward these strangers (but they weren't; not really, not anymore, not with memories and emotions flooding through the Hive) with cries of distress and joy twined.

Her creatures observed in silence, respectful, though the rat looked with its empty eyes to Oliver. Its voice came in a rasping croak.

"...Have? This is one of... my children. My speaker. Family." Wildly untrue, in truth. It was a pawn, a voice where hers could not reach, and little more. Expendible. But she would not say such a thing--not to them; not even to her own. Perhaps she herself did not see it that way, or truly understand. "Why would you... wish such a thing?"

Yet Mother's mind was more on Yellow--switching back to them with a wary observance. Already, Praetors were on the march, slipping with rapid staccato steps toward Yellow's location. Not visible, not yet; she would withhold them. She would wait and see. If they were not needed, they would not be revealed. And if they were, well, that time would come. Her warning to Yellow slid soft into their mind, gentle but serving as a dampening counterpoint to their frantic excitement. It was a bare breath of thought, yet filled with caution, and a general sense of alarm was thrilling through the Hive: an alert, a warning to all of what was happening. That the dead had returned, impossibly, to life. "Be wary, my child. Their return should be... I do not know what this is." This thought would not be audible to her visitors, but to Yellow, it was clear and cool as ice, full of puzzlement and curiosity thrilled through with uncertainty.

The Cleaner's eyes shifted to the sky, as if watching for attack.

@Rift

Nothing was helping. Nothing was sure. Rift was only battered with more confusion from Oliver, from the rat, from...whoever this was that was throwing themselves on him. He didn't stop them from coming closer, but he also didn't react when they threw themselves onto his shoulder besides lightly flinch. It wasn't stirring any memories, not their voice nor appearance. Had they ever met? Had they been important? But it knew his name and it knew his brother. They had to be...right?

He didn't know what was going on, what this talking-rat-hivemind had to do with anything, why his search for Sebastian had led him here. Who this odd little primate was and why they knew something but Oliver didn't. He swallowed heavily after a moment and took a step back to break the embrace - not out of any awkwardness, but a desperation to know something for sure. He was trying not to pay attention to the dread in his belly, the haunting feeling that was creeping along his spine.

"I'm f-" he stopped himself. "Yes, I'm here. But I don't...I don't know where Sebastian is. That's why I'm here. I'm looking for him. We have a..." he glanced at Oliver, briefly. "...a thing that led us here. I thought he might be here somewhere but...I guess not?" Why, then, had the compass led them to this place, if Sebastian was nowhere to be found?

He glanced at Oliver again, but confused for his question. It seemed extremely odd and out of place and character, but for now he otherwise ignored it, not needing yet another question stacked on his already distressed state of mind. He looked back towards Yellow, occasionally glancing at the rat as he considered his options. "You saw something? What did you see? Or thought you saw? I...have no idea what's going on or...who you are. I'm sorry." And he genuinely looked apologetic, one ear folded back, head bowed. "I don't have a lot of...memories."

@Oliver @Yellow

Oliver listened in silence as the others spoke. A cold, unpleasant sensation--a sort of misgiving--was building in him, an almost premonition sort of sense that something bad was going to happen. Or-... No, not happen. Something bad's going to be... revealed. It was the only explanation. They were here talking about death. Someone had died, but--not died? Maybe two someones, he thought, mind going to Sebastian.

What the hell was going on..?

He settled down against the snow and ice, feathers ruffling, and his gaze went to the Gray again as it spoke. As 'Mother' spoke through it. And he answered honestly, beak clicking and ear-tufts briefly flattening back, as though his hound body language showed through even in owl form. "To take care of it," he answered softly. "It's sick. I think." Which, in a sense, it was. The thin, bedragged, scruffy look was a result of its service to Mother, abandoning its own self-care beyond what was absolutely necessary to survive... but Oliver didn't know that. Nor could he be sure it could be saved, even. "I'm a... healer," he finished softly.

But other than this, he remained quiet. Solemn. Whatever was going on, he stood outside it, in a sense. Intruding any further felt wrong. Whatever this revelation was to be, it was between Rift and Yellow and Sebastian and Mother. Oliver's part--getting Rift here--that was done. And now he waited, as if about to see a horrible accident he couldn't prevent: with caution, trepidation and a loudly thumping heart.

Mother's voice cut through their jumbled thoughts, clear as ice and Clearstone. It restored order to their mind for a brief moment, before that fragile order broke apart once more. Wary? They could not understand. They could not physically muster the resolve to be wary when someone they had thought lost for cycles upon cycles was suddenly here, in front of them.

If Rift's reaction was unexpected for a long-overdue reunion, Yellow hardly noticed. There was most likely some reasonable justification; perhaps it had simply been too many cycles; the sifaka had been young when they were separated, after all, and Rift probably had many more friends. But they weren't searching for explanations, they were just... overwhelmed with relief. There was hope, too, searing and agonizing, and dread that curled like cold tendrils of poison around their insides when they finally realized what Rift was saying.

Sebastian was still missing.

That didn't mean anything, they told themselves fiercely. If Rift could awaken again without their knowledge, even though they had kept his chrysoberyl gem close for so many cycles--and without Mother's knowledge, too, despite her web of spies and fungus all over these caves--then just because Rift didn't know where Sebby was, didn't mean Sebby was gone.

What did you see? ... I have no idea who you are. I don't have a lot of... memories.

As Yellow pulled away from their embrace, a wave of dizziness washed over them. Their heart was beating so quickly and loudly that they could feel and hear it pounding like a drum. They blinked repeatedly, waiting for it to go away as they processed the question. "M-memory loss? Huh..." There were implications to that that made the dread sink deeper in their gut, but their mind wasn't capable of clearly thinking through it any further than the basic instinct that something might be wrong. Instead they focused on the easier part: Rift had asked them to describe what they saw.

Not that the terrible scene was particularly easy to describe, but with Rift right here in front of them, with the knowledge that Mother and their family would forever be connected to them, the horrors seemed much more far away than they had when the Wishing Stone had granted them that awful vision. "A-After the fire, I woke up from my chrysalis alone. It had been a long time, I think, and I didn't know where anyone was. I looked for you and Sebby for a while, but... I didn't find anything, until a magical singing stone that granted wishes appeared in Polaris. It... it gave me a vision of where your stones were in Eridanus. I found them, but they weren't chrysali like the one I woke up from. No one was inside. I didn't know what it meant, so I went back and asked, and--" The sifaka clutched the Collar of the Wind God around their neck, feeling as though on the edge of a precipice. Their voice came out barely above a whisper. "It showed... it showed this evil miasma of a Gembound fighting you-- you and Sebby, and then-- a big tree fell on you, and you were--gone." They were safe. Rift was right in front of them. Both were on solid ground. So why did merely saying the words feel like throwing themselves off a deadly cliff?

"I brought the gems back here. To keep them safe. I... I had no idea you were still here." They couldn't stop staring at Rift, as if he might disappear at any second. "Do you..." Yellow trailed off. There was so much they wanted to know, but they didn't know how to ask any of the questions, or if Rift had any of the answers. Their mind whirled with disjointed thoughts. A sudden memory surfaced: a divine figure, dark-skinned with stars in his eyes, and the sifaka blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"C-could you have been... Reborn? Like us, with our it-" Sudden alarm bells rang through Yellow's mind and they shut their mouth. They weren't supposed to have said that. Inexplicable guilt welled up in their chest, pressing heavy as a boulder on their lungs, and they looked down. Their eyes felt rather wet and stung in the freezing cold.

MOTHER

A Lost Little Lamb

The Hive was not some singular entity that controlled the rest: it was all of them, together. Like cells of an organism they each contributed to make the whole that much greater. And it was Yellow striking upon a possibility that provided enlightenment of some kind for them all. Though she gently silenced the word, the concept was one that was mulled over, passed through all the minds of the Hive: did the Gembounds not of Order also have some form of Iteration?

...But no. None present knew of such a thing. Had heard of it.

With feverish intensity, the Hive's memories were plundered: all that which had already been shared sorted through, consulted, as if Mother were rifling through the minds of them all. Or more accurately: she asked them to search their own.

There were two things that she held up in the shared eye of the Hive's mind: the Masters, and a recent experience of Juggernaut's. The Masters could create a creature in any image. From any form of stone. Had they had a reason to create Rift anew? Juggernaut held a memory of an experience that Mother was still puzzling over. Paradise, its imagery, its impossibly granted Wishes. But she could not see for certain which truth was related, if either, no matter how much she plied and puzzled. Each of these memories were turned in that mind's eye, shining this way and that, examined from a hundred different perspectives.

Still, the truth beneath both options was clear enough. Rift had died. It had been seen. Even if it had not, his gemstone was here--with them--hidden away. Yet here he stood.

When the rat spoke, it was with her puzzlement in its tone.

"You did not survive. You have been... remade." It paused, teeth clicking in the gust of wind that followed. "We do not know how." There followed then another span, a moment or two where she again consulted each and every mind--now the Drones, the Carriers, her army of Lessers--but again, there was no sign of Sebastian anywhere within the caves. "Our eyes see... many places. We see you. Rift. But... we do not... see him." There was apology in this: and, to Yellow, sorrow. She could, of course, dull that sorrow. Swathe Yellow's brain in the balmy comfort of sheets of chemicals that would drive away the pain. The offer was given, but not forced--not this time.

"You may have... this rat..." the rat said finally, looking to Oliver--giving the others time to think--"so long as you promise... not to lead others... enemies... back to this place."

@Rift
Also, in case @Juggernaut wants to see this and/or mentally comment along the link (either via Yellow, or through a post!)

The more and more they talked, the more Rift began to dread. The more he wanted to turn around and go back to Eridanus, to hide his face in moss and pretend like he had never come on this quest, so he could keep hope alive that Sebastian was still out there, sleeping, or even looking for him. Waiting for him to return. Even if he waited until time itself came to an end, then at least he wouldn't have to face the fact that he was gone.

Rift's head bowed, obscuring his face further then what the mask already did. Words swirling through his mind, fractured and trying to glue themselves together to try to make some kind of sense. Fire? Magical wishing stone? Miasma? Reborn? Remade? What was the difference? He gulped as he remembered the distant echoing voice, the first one he had heard, from his dream. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to repeat them here. That voice had been so...personal, intimate. Like it had been whispering directly into his heart. He didn't trust this being, with its sick rats and empty eyes and this stranger that called him brother. But then...what was he going to do?

He struggled against himself, trying to glue all the pieces together, before looking up, eyes misty and dull. "So...he's gone, then. Sebastian is gone. Only I came back." He glanced at Yellow, ear twitching at the cut-off word. His eyes narrowed briefly, interested, suspicious. What had they been about to say? He glanced towards Oliver, wondering if he had caught it too.

"How...how long ago did you see this. This singing stone that granted wishes? And..." Eyes flicked to Oliver again. "When was the last time that we saw each other? And do you know about this stone?" That felt like something important - how had it known?

@Oliver