this thread take place a few days after this one --> /showthread.php?tid=9469

James had been a jittery mess the entire way to Orion. He'd barely been able to sleep as he and Aethereal journeyed through the caves, and it left him even more anxiety-riddled than before.

He left a black stone in front of the Throne and waited nearby, wide-eyed and staring at the ground, shoulders hunched. He'd made a big mistake and he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know if he could! Could he help Aethereal? Could he keep his promise to Vargas and convince her to stay away from Mother?

He didn't know. He felt like a silly little colt again, standing in front of some of the greatest gembound of the caves trying to understand what was going on. Mother had to be evil, and Vargas too. He needed some guidance too, not just Aethereal. But hadn't he asked Pride for enough? Shouldn't he be independent by now?

"He'll be here soon," he said, mostly to himself, hoping to quell his thoughts for the time being.

@Pride @Aethereal

Pride was, as it turned out, gone for nearly four hours. It was a long time, really--not because of the actual length of seconds and minutes ticking quietly by at the abandoned Throne, but because of the two gemstones hidden away in the new cluster of foliage flourishing in the shadows a little way off. These were chrysalises, rapidly growing: one still small, the other almost his size after only a few days. Pride didn't want to leave them alone for very long, but the journey to Eridanus to properly feed was a necessity--even with the garden now growing here, he couldn't risk eating too much or he'd destroy it.

Even so, four hours was a rush. In the past he'd been gone for half a day, a day, or more. Now he was trotting back and forth as swiftly as he could, concern for the chrysalises thudding between his ribs, as if that space were now hollow otherwise.

The clatter of his hooves announced his approach first, and the sound of his sharp, strong breaths heaving in and out came a moment later. He was near-snorting each exhale, having run much of the way here, and his form was briefly visible: a shrouded white, darting through Orion's gloom back past the throne. It was the small white hare behind him that stopped, coming up on her hind legs, peering at the visitors from a distance--and she who alerted her master of their presence. A moment after he'd vanished he popped his head back out, and then stepped out slowly, peering with concern at Aethereal's alien form.

He looked to James, then, silent--if the horse was here, and seemed this calm (relatively-speaking) then it wasn't immediate danger. At least, he hoped it wasn't. The chrysalises were safe, so he tried to pull himself together, drawing himself up and stepping over to meet them.

"James--and hello, I am Pride. Is everything all right?" he asked, looking back to the horse, trying not to stare at the dripping-black, seemingly severed head.

Trying not to think, what the hell is this, with horror dawning in his heart.

Aethereal waited patiently, pointedly ignoring a soft tap on her shoulder when it came. She had heard no one approach or speak, so it must have been nothing but air again. Like James, she had not gotten the best sleep in the past few days, but it was... better, at least, than what she had before stabilizing. An opportunity to rest and do nothing but wait was more than welcome, given that she had nothing else to do.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Aethereal could think of a whole host of other things she might try to do, but none of them were particularly practical or useful. She could not talk to Mother, she certainly couldn't stop an entire war on her own, and the chaos within had not grown overwhelming yet.

One thing bore investigation--something they had passed back in Polaris, something that crackled with energy and was also called a Spire-- but that was something for later. She had stabilized recently, so it could wait.

This was the important thing at hand.

Hooves clattered on the stone behind them, and Aethereal turned, tensing a little. But James, beside her, was calm, and the running one slowed as he approached, so she relaxed. This was not a charge, but the return of Pride, the one they'd been waiting for.

"Hello, Pride," she greeted, facing in his general direction. "I'm Aethereal. We're all right right now, but there's a war coming up and I'm pretty sure that's going to go really badly." She surprised herself with how calm her voice came out, though the idea of war had had several days to settle into her mind now. Still, impending doom was hardly trivial.

At least, she hoped, it would be delayed by Tahi-shei's stay in his chrysalis.

"Vargas and an army a deer helped him recruit are going to fight Mother. I don't want that to happen, but I'm not sure what I can do--or what I should do. Mother raised me, gave me a home--but she also took a dragon's family away from her. James told me this. And Vargas believes she wants to kill everyone who lives here, or make us serve her until we die. It's... hard to believe that." The love had felt real. The food, the den, and the singing had been real. But Vargas did not seem like the type to lie about that. "She told me she wanted a better world for us all," she added after a short pause, quietly.

"But I don't know what the truth is, or who to believe anymore. James told me you knew a lot, so that's why we're here: so you could tell me more."

@James

James had made a big... big mistake. He stared at Pride, cotton in his ears, his heart pounding like a drum. He went to speak, only for Aethereal to pipe up first, and snapped his head to the side, staring at her.

Okay, he wanted to let Pride down slowly, but this was okay. This was fine.

"... I'm going to die," he mumbled to himself, drawing his wings in against his body, shaking his head. He was definitely, definitely dead. Or going to be.

"Tahi and I found her in Cepheus," he finally said, "We got rid of Mother's fungus, but her influence hasn't left Aethereal with any knowledge of what Mother truly in. It's been... a fight. I don't-"

'Know what to do-'

"... Know who else to bring her to," he said, feeling faint.

James felt tears prick his eyes and looked down, forelock falling in front of his eyes, "I took her to Vargas... both to stabilize a-and to talk to him. He um... wasn't the most helpful. Drove her away more than anything. I-I had hoped a different perspective, one who knows the current gembound of these caves better might be able to tell her everything."

"... Vargas told me he'd kill me if Aethereal went back," he finally said.

@Pride

Pride nodded at Aethereal's greeting, and then at once felt foolish: could she even see? A twitch of a grimace crossed his features, and he listened, offering quiet interjections now and again. "I will be there for that," he noted, regarding the 'war.' He certainly hoped it didn't come to true war, but there was really no telling, in the end. He was about to ask why she didn't want this when she explained, herself. 'Mother raised me. Gave me a home.' A meaningful glance--with another, deeper grimace--was flashed James's way; now he understood why James had come here. "A dragon's home..?" he began, but before he could go on, James was offering his own information. Cepheus--Pride didn't really know of this place, but it didn't matter much. And a mention of Vargas. 'I don't know who else to bring her to,' and Pride felt a sort of weary, faintly-annoyed humor at this.

James always came to him when he needed him, but never to offer anything of his own; but Pride supposed that was his own damn fault for styling himself a 'guardian.' 'Pick up the uniform, take on the job,' was what he might have thought, had he any idea what either of those things were. Still, he-... Missed Nassir.

Pride exhaled. The Vargas threat pissed him off immensely and immediately, and his silver eyes flashed with anger. "I would not recommend talking to monsters," he said softly, "but avoid him completely. You're free to stay here, and if he does try to harm you he'll have to deal with me, first." A trickle of fear struck him--was he really offering to fight Vargas?--but this was quickly eclipsed by careless annoyance. Yes, and fuck it. He can fight gravity, he thought to himself, heatedly.

A slow exhale escaped him as he tried to recompose himself, and he looked to Aethereal again. "I can show you what I know of Mother, mind-to-mind, if you wish the truth. One of our own was taken by her, once, as I suppose you were--infected by her fungus. It is just a fungus, and from what I know, it tampers with your emotions, your feelings. I'm told that without that ability, its attempts at manipulation are laughable; but with it, it can leave you quite torn. Temperantia is the name of the one who was taken. They have not recovered, since. They are filled with anger over what happened to them, and I can show you their anger, and their form, if you desire."

He paused, and thought, for a moment. "There were a number of them, in Cetus. In the swamp. She controlled them, forced them to work for her; to protect her, to feed her. I believe all of those freed were furious, or afraid of her, afterward. Temperantia was like you: unsure, at first. Wanting to believe that this fungus harbored good intentions. We had a battle, then--some dozen or two dozen of us eliminating the nest there. It seems we didn't do a good enough job," he mused, that, or this fungus was already established in Ursa. -I wonder how it survives in that cold? came the additional thought--he knew what Ursa was, even if he hadn't been through there more than once, himself.

"But yes; I can show you Temperantia, if you wish. And either way, you're both welcome to stay here. I will ask that you do not return to the fungus, and put James's life at risk. How long is that threat--ahh, good for?" he added, glancing at James.

@Aethereal

"You are not going to die," Aethereal said firmly. Pride had said many things that she needed to think about--but this came first. She couldn't have James continuing to believe she would put his life at risk; she must not have made that clear enough. "Not from Vargas' threat, anyway. I promise: I will not return to Mother as long as the threat still stands."

Her mouth tilted toward Pride, in a sort of surprised way. He would try to stop Vargas...? This one's size belied his power, if his willingness to go against the Master was not just plain recklessness. And even with him, Mother--Dontacael, Order--couldn't be destroyed. Order can't die.

But they were only trying to get their loved ones back. Mother couldn't fault them for that--or can she? The more people she talked to, the worse Mother sounded. How was she supposed to connect this monster who took over people's minds with the Mother she knew--?

One way to find out.

"Show me, please."

@James

James stared at Pride, not in disbelief, but with shame.

"... No," he said, "I refuse to let you risk your life for me. I've already asked you for so much and you've done it without question. I can't let you do this, Pride."

He looked over at Aetheral, and then back at Pride before lowering his head, staring at the ground. He had asked Pride for a lot, hadn't he? Emotional support, training... Pride wasn't his father, and Pride had a child too.

"I'll make it up to you as soon as this... this mess is over with," he said, and that was a promise.

One more favor, and then he'd better start picking the bill up himself. He was nearly a year old, now. 9 cycles, nearly 10. It was time to give back.

@Pride

"Nonsense, James; I could hardly call myself a guardian if I sent away those who required guardianship," he pointed out, and there was gentle humor in his tone, reassuring and amused both. And it was true, though he did have other things on his mind, at the moment, too.

He looked to Aethereal then, and he concentrated. "A moment, to establish the link, please. It is not always easy." Pride went still, silent, staring with unfocused eyes at the strangely-headless white creature. A thing of beauty and terrible ugliness; of grace and horror, all in one.

He suppressed a shudder, and pushed that aside, careful to lock it away where he would not accidentally show it to her. He found her form horrific, in a way--headless and dripping black--it was hard not to; but he had no desire to hurt her feelings by telling her as much, aloud or mind-to-mind. And so he tucked the thought far back in his subconscious, deliberately not thinking of it, and tried to reach out his mind and magic to open up a link.

It would seem, at first, as though the sound of Orion grew muffled--fading, to be replaced by the buzz of insects. Pride sent the scene as strongly as he could: the scent of rotten swamp, of muck and leaves. The quiet lapping of water at their feet, the squelching as they walked--and there were many of them.

From his viewpoint, she would see it: a glance around in the dark and the mist, a glimpse of many allies marching alongside. A spotted hyena, and two strange, bird-like hybrids that must have been related to it. (And was sudden vision a strange thing, for Aethereal?) A fat-bodied, scarred alligator, and overhead, circling in silence aside from the thump of vast wings, a black, flame-etched dragon. A ram, a coyote, a cheetah, and a black leopard (and here came a twinge of pain, as if this memory brought it with it). Other strange and monstrous beasts, hybrids and mixtures, spotted and furred, feathered and scaled. Alien beasts with glowing green eyes--one not unlike Vargas, but brown and long, six-limbed, rather than a violent violet-pink.

This scene--detailed as it was--was but a glimpse; a heartbeat look of a few seconds. It cut, then, into battle: the roar of flame as the dragon laid down a line of fire from overhead. Shields raised, fungus torn from the enemy--a vast brown bear, a monkey-like beast, a linsang, a demon, a cat...

It was war, this sudden conflict in the swamp, its buzzing mists interrupted now by violence and fire, by blood and rage.

But the point was now focused, honed: a ring-like creature, pale and silver-gold, streaked on its inner side with red. Many eyes lined it; many white wings kept it lightly afloat. Suddenly this creature was flaring in a blinding, golden-white light: a beacon in the dark, fighting for the defense of the Hive, fighting for what it believed in. The shadows swarming the battle had been unnatural: this creature... dispersed them.

It looked holy. It looked pure. It looked... so certain of itself. So righteous.

The image shifted. Gone was Cetus, this battle that had lasted long, violent, brutal minutes, but the memory of which had been only seconds in Aethereal's mind. Only a glimpse, to show the nature of Temperantia. Of the angel's form, and beauty. Of its surety.

Now, it was in Orion: star-studded and dim, drifting with glittering dust. Now it spoke, hovering, uncertain. 'We...do not know. We feel confusion. She worked for the good of all gembound. That... that is what she told us. Perhaps... one does not need to control others to do good. You... help gembound without control?'

A flicker of memory. A few moments passing. Temperantia's eyes, opening from being closed. 'I will raise your numbers. I will join you.'

The image shifted.

Temperantia approached, here, again, here in Orion, here beside the Throne. Its form was blackened, and twisted. There was rage in its voice. 'Astraea, he... betrayer. Betrayed us. Turned our mind, our body, against us. Look at us! Astraea did this! Left us with that... that thing. All we think of is Dontacael. Mother. ... There is no redemption for Astraea. We must destroy Dontacael. Then Astraea.'

The memory briefly distorted, shifting, as Pride struggled to maintain it. It likely seemed like minutes were passing, but in reality these were flickers of thoughts, of memory, lasting only seconds: Temperantia was there again, black and corrupted. 'No, not Mother. Dontacael. He is Mother, but he isn't. He...controls Mother. We are the cutting knife. We must destroy them both.' The ring laughed, then.

It was not angelic; it was not pure. It was deranged. Unhinged.

'We have known nothing but pain since waking.'

Pride--in his own mind--was wondering now if he were right. His point had been that Temperantia had been controlled--and after awakening had slowly gone mad. But there was more to it then that, wasn't it-? It had been a guardian, and pure, in Mother's embrace, and now-?

Perhaps some of this would be picked up by Aethereal, but he didn't think it out; it was a brief and passing concept, and one that he hurriedly pushed away. Instead, he let the link fall away, and he spoke. "Temperantia was controlled. They later joined us--the Seven--as a guardian, only to be betrayed by the Master they call Astraea. They said that Astraea led them to something known as the Creator--they described this as... dangerous, as violet and green." ...Vargas? he thought suddenly, but did not say. "My point is that none of the powers that be, in these caves, are our friends, our guardians, our protectors. Not Vargas, not Mother, not this 'Dontacael,' Astraea, or Creator. Astraea has claimed we are but trash, byproducts of slaves. That our children were to be handed to some unseen master, and taken from us. Mother would control us, and use us to serve her until we die. What we have," and here he glanced, meaningfully, at James--"is one another. You are both welcome to stay as long as you like."

@Aethereal

Orion melted away, to be replaced with mud and dampness. Aethereal stumbled, disoriented by the sudden rush of sensory input, and fell back onto her haunches. Her injured leg, still in the process of recovering, protested, but she hardly noticed it with everything else going on.

The sudden scene was dizzying, the chaos of battle overwhelming for she who had only known vision for a few seconds in her entire life. But one being stood out above it all: Temperantia, she assumed, in their golden-white glory.

Temperantia fought. Temperantia sought a way in between, to do good but without stifling control. Temperantia was betrayed. Temperantia was changed. Temperantia suffers.

She sat there, horrified, even after the vision ended. What the hell had Astraea done, to turn the angel into a corrupted wreck? This was what the Creator did to people? She'd thought he would be like the Black Spire, dangerous but capable of some good, helping keep people like her from being torn apart by the chaos inside.

"... Why?" she croaked, finally managing to find her voice. Why do they do this to us? Why would they destroy our lives, instead of leaving each person to find their own happiness, or work together to build a halcyon future? Why do they think of Mother as so despicable they'd go to war against her, but ally themselves with Vargas and the Creator when they've done equally horrible things?

And how is this deer so powerful? He showed me so much, while Mother showed me only a glimpse, and so many words were lost...

"I..." Pride offered her a home? Another one. It wouldn't be the same. And could she really feel at home when they might keep secrets from her around every corner, thinking that anything important they told her might be a terrible mistake they shouldn't have said? Even if she could go back to Mother, Mother had ripped families apart and taken others in against their will. That wouldn't feel right, either.

She had no home now. And there was no each other for her yet. All she had was herself.

"...I will go." To where, she wasn't sure yet. Ursa, maybe. Or continue in this direction, and find what the rest of the caves had to offer, but Orion wasn't particularly forgiving for a huge, blind creature. "Thank you for showing me. This Astraea... do you know him? How should I know him, if I meet him but he doesn't introduce himself?"

A pause. More consideration. Then: "You'll be at Ursa? If... if you can, and it's safe for you, will you tell Mother I'm okay, but I can't visit or talk to her? She's done some bad things, but... she's also helped me. I guess, well, I just don't want her to worry, or think I'm ungrateful." She wouldn't try to stop the war. They had a right to be mad, if the bad things they said Mother had done were true. Neither could she, if such powerful forces were involved in it.

"Good luck getting your loved ones back," she added.

And maybe she shouldn't ask this--but she wasn't thinking about that right now. "But--why would you go after Dontacael so furiously, and leave the Masters and the Creator alone? Isn't--isn't what happened to Temperantia, your friend--" Isn't that also enough to justify a fight?

@James

James nodded slowly to Pride, looking away, "... Alright."

Well, he still had his home here. It was dusty but he'd left some things behind he couldn't carry. All it needed was a clean up and maybe an expansion into the next home or so and then his whole family would fit.

"Well," he said, looking up at Aethereal, "If we beat Mother once, we can do it again. But Vargas... you saw him. Big, powerful, with a miniature army and a half at his disposal. Fighting against him and his spawn would be immensely difficult."

And James? He wasn't fighting. Staying far behind the barricade, even into the tunnel for moral support, maybe... but it terrified him, and he couldn't leave his children fatherless.

He realized something all of a sudden.

"... I forgot you can't see," he said sheepishly, "But he's massive. Bigger than you, with long, powerful legs, spikes, quills, teeth... and a Master, to add onto that, not to mention Draconua and his other creations. Big, strong, all teeth, quills, pointy bits. Terrifying and powerful."

@Pride