Hm. Elysium stood, straight-backed but looking down, into the unmarred blanket of snow that lay before them. Not only did they not want to disturb such pleasant perfection, but they had their eye on the strange specks of glinting dust that fell from puffy clouds clinging to the ceiling. More than once, they watched one fall and land before them, and then attempted to find it. They had yet to find any fallen snowflakes on the ground.

Perhaps it was... inspiring. They all came together to create one beautiful thing, just like us and Mother, Zero-One-Two nodded to itself.

There was, of course: a slight issue. In order to explore and learn and train, they would have to walk through snow and destroy its unscarred canvas; sow chaos among the uniform, soft lines of the near horizon and ruin the beauty before them. The drone could not think of such a fate worse than this. A lingering, nagging fear deep within its gut seeded the concern that to do so would to become a shameful thing to the Mother.

Nine feet tall, unmoving and unblinking, Zero-One-Two had stood in their exact spot for several hours. They were so still, in fact, that the snowfall had dusted their plasticine skin ivory and applied a layer of frost to their stiff limbs. They did not entirely mind. From here, at least, they could serve another purpose: they could watch the land and warn the others if a stranger ventured too close to the hive.

It was lonely, of course. But they did it for Her.

@Ananke

The faint and distant sense of another being had been tugging at the Hivemind link in Ananke's brain for hours. It had been unobtrusive, mild, so much so that she'd almost not noticed it; it had joined the white background noise that ever thrummed, pleasantly, through her life. Her entire family lived there, in a sense, their comings and goings a filtered blank space she hardly noticed, these days.

She took notice only when this new presence did not change, when the long sensation of observing went on for another hour and more, and finally--most disturbingly--when a sense of troubled distress joined in. Nothing told her she had to interact, of course--but as her mind swung to regard this new presence, she suddenly recognized it as new. It was like being drawn to a sound one hadn't noticed in the cacophony of a jungle, and realizing abruptly that the sound was actually something important.

Ananke studied this presence, for a moment. She could see--through their mind--vague and indistinct images of a snowy plain. It could be anywhere, really, but... the rabbit had a few guesses as to where. They were here in Ursa, at least, she thought.

She made her way out of her burrow, shaking away a little snow, and--sitting in the mouth of it--looked around. There was only white; the plains, unmarked, stretching down the mountainside. Nothing dangerous, then--Ananke eyed the cloudy sky but saw no Ghostbirds there, so she set out toward where she thought the new sibling must be.

As she went, hopping ears-back across the crust of snow, she sent her mind out to her unknown sibling. Hello? she greeted, tentative. I am Zero-Zero-Two Priestess. Ananke. The thought was an offering, a thread. She had some sense of the Hive's privacy she'd gained, over the many cycles: if someone didn't want intrusion, if they wanted to be alone for a time, they'd simply--gently--let her know and she'd respect that. But the distress was what was summoning her now.

She could see a distant figure--and she knew then that she was right in her guess of 'where': something pale and, to her eyes, towering. Are you all right? she thought, still some distance off, hopping slowly toward the statue in the snow.

@Elysium

Slowly, it blinked-- a stiff sort of movement as though it were trying to pry themselves free from ice. Which, partially, it was. A low creak of their head as they half-instinctively looked around, and then a slight shake as shimmering snow fell onto their face. Down the line of the Hivemind's link there was brief hesitation: the empty, thoughtless kind, of someone not entirely knowing how to initially respond.

Its first words to Ananke were automatic: some buried-deep instinct that called to her when Elysium went briefly searching for them. Zero-One-Two Guardian. Elysium. It did not question why or how, or what these numbers meant. They simply were: just the way it is here.

Another empty-headed beat. I am fine, it offered, though there was a twinge of uncertainty that rang from her side of the link. Was it, perhaps, not meant to be? Had it forgone some form of etiquette in this response-- was it being rude to her family? She saw plains of snow from Ananke's eyes and a figure in the distance and, carefully, turned her head to see this action mirrored in the distant statue.

Literally anyone else might have considered this imagery unsettling. I cannot see you, they admitted. But you are... near? You are coming this way? Muted excitement came with this, now, like an elderly dog lazily wagging its tail at its owner. Hello, they offered, belatedly.

@Ananke

The brief twinge of uncertainty felt a kindred sort of thought: the kind Ananke knew far too well. It brought back memories of old anxieties long-since soothed by the Hivemind, but which still surfaced, unwelcome, from time to time.

She responded in the same way she always hoped others would: a warm, almost dismissive reassurance. An it's fine, but in emotional form: welcoming and genuine. She followed this with another thought, a Hello, Guardian, but it held far more than merely the words. Behind the 'guardian' was Ananke's pleasant surprise at hearing that the Hive now had another Guardian, another to protect the smaller drones and speakers and prophets and workers among them. It was approval, really, and it was content.

Elysium's next thought--I cannot see you--reminded Ananke with jarring disappointment of how tiny she was. It was a realization that often slipped away from her, lost to the joy of being part of something larger, but now (as she so often was) she was struck with it again. The fact that she was small. Weak. The fact that a predator could end her life in a single snap of jaws that she just didn't see coming.

Ananke's response held some of that tremulous disappointment, laced almost with apology. I am very small. She hopped out of the falling snow, closer, furry hind legs scuffing the top of the pristine fields. She came to Elysium, and here she paused, peering up: and maybe it'd be strange, for the new Guardian to see themselves mirrored in Ananke's eyes, too. Or maybe they'd seen it before; surely they'd have met Mother?

Ananke blinked, pushing the thoughts away. "Hello," she offered, again. She let her vision drift, pale eyes searching the plains for a moment, before peering back to Elysium. The question was unspoken, but clear enough: if Elysium was all right, why had there been such a sense of distress-?

The rabbit huddled up, a little, flicking her ear in thought. "Is there something I can do?" she asked.

@Elysium

Their head slowly tilted. Ananke's first response brought a strange sense of warmth and comfort to their belly: the same sort of happy, feel-good sensation Mother gave her whenever she did something good. This was quickly overriden with the rabbit's sudden disappointment. Cold shock froze Elysium's already-stiff limbs and they felt a lump in their throat. They had done something wrong. They had brought shame to something they were supposed to protect. They had to fix it.

Eyes drifted down (they had not thought to do so sooner), and for a moment, they only watched Ananke with the urge to help her, help her, help her thrumming in their chest like a heartbeat. "I... like that you are small," it droned, voice deep from its chest and monotone. There was no uncertainty that these words were genuine, however-- a little sense of wonder and pride lifting down the link. Mother made you perfectly, yes.

It did not, however, much like how... intimidating it seemed in Ananke's own vision, however. It knelt very carefully, knees to its chest, careful to not disturb the snow underneath it. It was not the most comfortable of positions; but it did not matter. They could see their sister better, here, too.

"I can... carry you. Lift you. You can... be tall, for a time," the Guardian offered carefully, head turning to the blanket of snow with its marble-like skin almost audibly creaking. "You can... see the snow, with your own eyes. It is... pretty."

They took a moment to consider Ananke's offer, one feathered limb sprouting from the side of their head twitching against the cold air. "You do not... have to do anything. The company is... nice to have." There was no real loneliness in the Hivemind, of course-- but there was certainly a feeling of emptiness standing alone, listening to everyone else chatter away.

@Ananke

Rising shame sparked guilt of its own, Ananke hastening to reassure Elysium. There was certainty to her own thoughts, in turn. It's all right. Mother didn't make me--I was always far too small. But, and here her quiet, reassuring explanation bloomed like summer flowers, becoming warmth, bright appreciation, and love--she gave me gifts to ensure that I can serve a purpose nonetheless. And oh, how much that pleased her. All was right and perfect with the world, as she thought those thoughts.

Belatedly, she realized she was thinking, and not speaking aloud; she wondered if she were being perhaps a little rude. She sat upright, ears pricked high, peering up at Elysium. "Lift me," she agreed, and there was a warmth to that, too. Brief imagery flashed along the link, of a viewpoint shifting strangely a few feet above the ground: Elysium would not be the first to carry Ananke. They would, however, clearly be the tallest to.

She held her little forepaws high, still sitting upright, like a toddler waiting to be picked up. There was amusement in that, and friendly companionship. And a sense, too, of contentment: if Elysium merely wanted company, Ananke was happy to provide.

"Were you created," she asked curiously, "recently?" The rest of the question was unspoken--Or are you freshly woken?

@Elysium

Though the knowledge that Mother did not create all her children should not have been a surprise, Elysium felt as though they had a slight shift in their perspective in the world. They toyed with this thought for a few beats: if Mother had no created Ananke, who did? She certainly seemed quite perfect, in their eyes.

Consideration soon mulled over into acceptance, and the slightest facsimile of a smile creaked into the Guardian's mannequin face. It did not care, incidentally, if the Priestess spoke or thought. They were able to hear and understand either way. Very, very gently they took Ananke into their golden, frost-streaked hands and lifted her up. They held her as though she were glass-- and she may as well have been. She was so small, so pale, like a living snowflake had fallen into their palms.

Elysium spent a moment gently brushing away the sense of wonderment that washed across them; as well as pushing down the urge to pet Ananke further without permission, as they lifted themselves up to stand. The rabbit was hoisted up easily six or seven feet into the air as the drone held her in front of them, close to their chest, and looked out across the snow.

"The snow... individually, is very small," it explained (in case Ananke did not know how snow works). "But when it comes together it is... whole, anew. Beautiful. I like snow. It is... a wonderful thing. I think."

Pause. Once again, there were no thoughts that took Elysium's mind in the brief silence-- only the lingering awe of snowy plains. It eventually looked down towards Ananke in their hands. "I am... new. Mother created me," with just barely a hint of fondness leaking into their bland tone. "Do you... want to go higher? You can... sit on my shoulder."

@Ananke

Ananke's appreciation for Elysium was bright and sudden. She'd accepted the other's presence, but now--as they spoke in gentle words and stood like carved marble--she felt admiration. Approval. Another of Mother's perfect designs, yes; another of her wonderful family.

"It is beautiful," she agreed, and the metaphor, perhaps accidental, of a Hive family to the snowfields made of flakes wasn't lost on her. There is purity in such perfection. The thought came calm and pleased. It was a place--a perfect place--they could simply be, knowing that all was Ordered and right around them.

"I don't know who made me," she answered easily, unbothered by this fact. It didn't matter anymore; she'd been remade. She seemed content enough in Elysium's hands, a gentle and background sort of negation implying she'd prefer to stay there than be shifted to a shoulder. "Many of us are born from the walls, from lost stones left in tunnels and throughout the caves. Mother reaches out to anyone who wants, offering her gifts." The well-spoken words, the deep faith inherent in each one of them, resonated with her role of Priestess. "She accepts us no matter what. I have been reformed--parts of me are hers, and her, mine--but I have kept my shape." So had the other Drones she'd met, the ones Mother hadn't directly made. Only their stones, their magics, and some aspects of their internal functions had changed.

As for Elysium being new-? Ananke thought about this, though in an unhurried fashion, sitting in the statue-drone's arms in the same way she might lie contentedly in a patch of warm light. She had nowhere else to be. "If you are new," she began, mulling this over, "-I have been to many places in the caves? I know our siblings?" The statements were phrased as questions--as offers. And again, an unspoken thought trailed along the end: If you have questions?

@Elysium

The slightest dip of Elysium's chin into a nod was the only movement the Drone had left in them; they were entirely, perfectly still. Their hands may not have been the most pleasant thing to lounge on: they were cold, and they were oddly-textured, but they were steady. The Guardian felt some gentle pride in themselves. Ananke seemed happy, and the snow was wonderful, and they were able to quietly watch the distance for strangers as they spoke with family.

Smooth eyes drifted between the rabbit and the horizon. "That is... sad," they decided. They had not entirely considered it before, but to be born alone in a dank tunnel, with no Mother? Ananke must have suffered; Elysium could not even begin to imagine what it must have been like, and how lonely it must have been. Still, at least she had Mother, now, and a family.

"We should... help them," it said, softly, and there was genuine pity lain within. "Is that... what you do, as Priestess? Help others find Mother?"

As for other questions, however, it had to think about it. It had not really thought much about the world outside of Ursa and the Hive, and they found themselves drawing to a brief blank. The only thing they could think to ask, for now, was "what... are they like? The other places?"

@Ananke

She didn't mind the cold. She lived in it, after all; her feet had just been perched on the frozen floor of a snow-wreathed burrow. She didn't, either, delve too deeply into Elysium's thoughts just then (they didn't seem quite offered for public viewing, so to speak)--if she had, she might have delved into her early life, which had been a time of terror, really.

"It is sad," was all that she agreed, a mild but heartfelt meaning behind it.

When Elysium asked of her role, she had to think it over--so much so that the angelic being had another question before she had quite formulated her answer. She decided to combine them, a cautionary warning threading through it. "I do, and that means travel. But we are in a dangerous place. Mother seeks to bring Order to a place of Chaos--and this whole place is caves that serve Chaos. They're... violent. Mad. They see Order as their enemy," and this was said with true sorrow. How could anyone see such perfection as something bad-? How could it ever be a terrible thing to turn a world where lashing out in mindless, sadistic violence was encouraged, to something peaceful, cooperative, industrious and efficient--a world where all worked in harmonic tandem, aiming for a greater goal..?

She'd never understood that, and her grief, and bafflement, at this showed.

"I try not to travel alone." Unsaid were the brief images of Valkhounds, in Ananke's mind faceless, spined monstrosities of darkness that lurked in every corner. This came with fear, real fear, and she cowered down a little against the protective cup of Elysium's hands. "Halcyon often accompanies me. We tend to Mother's influence throughout the caves, and look to others to bring in. That is how I was found, and given these gifts--another like me showed me the way."

Still, it wasn't all bad; and Ananke struggled to show images, instead of the places she had seen. She remembered them clearly, holding each in her mind for Elysium to see: the thick jungle of Eridanus; the long expansive of Pegasus's river-threaded meadow carving down between near-mountains; the bright crystalline perfection of Gemini gleaming violet; the quiet gurgle of water through some nameless, rocky tunnel. There is much more, but... I haven't been able to travel much. There was disappointment--not in her own failing, but that she had little more to share in terms of her knowledge of the caves.

She paused, considering, and twisted her head a little to study Elysium. "If you can fly... You have wings?" There was an uptilt at the sentence, a question; wings might not necessarily, she knew, mean that her new sibling could truly take to the air. But-... If they could? "We could go together, some time? To find others... to speak with them. To bring them truth, and Order," and the hopeful zealot in her was shining now, "with your guardianship, and wings, we would be safe. It would be far more efficient," she mused.

Halcyon was skilled and willing, but even with the two of them they were no military force. Elysium, though-... If they could bring her on careful wings throughout the caves and protect her-?

Ahh, but Guardian--"Unless you are meant to guard this place, and not us as we wander?" It was politely asked. She did not want to overstep. And if Zero-One-Two Guardian was intended to guard the tunnels of Ursa, Ananke would never suggest that they abandon those duties to wander elsewhere.

@Elysium