Being the translator and research assistant to a Lapi can be very tiring. It doesn't help that Tasha isn't very familiar with Vartan writing, since Eyeshine and the others wrote in Standard (when they wrote at all). So the help of the high councilor is needed, which works out alright since the records library is also his office. This resulted in a game of 'telephone' with Tasha in the middle, trying to convert esoteric technical jargon being read aloud by the councilor into Standard words that she was more familiar with - but that Aaron kept asking for clarification on.
It didn't help that the apothecary was a conspiracy fanatic either, since it meant going down paths of research that didn't seem to have anything to do with the topic at hand: namely, the strange disease that afflicted the early settlers. And strange it was! The symptoms included nightmares, hallucinations, emotional breakdown, babbling, dementia and eventually coma and death. Aaron wanted all the details available on the victims, time since first symptoms to death, dates and even family trees where possible. It took hours.
Just when Tasha thought they were going to take a break, the rabbit asked about, of all things, criminal records. This involved digging out some very old books indeed, which had never been copied since it didn't seem like anything important. But it did yield a result: some months before the onset of the plague, a scoutmaster had taken fifteen children out for standard wilderness survival training. When they were overdue for return, the searchers found the scoutmaster in a state of raving lunacy, surrounded by the beheaded bodies of his students.
"That's it!" Aaron announces. "It's the number: fifteen! During the outbreak, there were always fifteen people afflicted at one time. When one of them died, another would become sick. It's not a disease at all, which is why their Expedition science and techniques had no effect - it's parasitic spirit infection from demonic contamination of the spirits of those children," he declares.
Tasha, who had by now started to look like she might nod off, rouses from her bleary-eyed translation haze at the outburst. "Oi, wha- ... Oh, you found something?" It seems to take a moment for dsicovery to reach her brain, as she pauses and then blinks. "Demons! That does explain why there were only fifteen infections -- there are fifteen demonic spirits! Or fifteen is the maximum amount of influence a lesser number can exert at any one time. Of course, the that leads to the problem of getting rid of them, none of us are experts in dealing with spirits. Traveling to Abaddon might starve them, but I know from personal experience some spirits can endure in a host."
"Actually, there was just one demon," Aaron says. "The scoutmaster was possessed, but when he killed the children the demonic essence altered their spirits. It's.. a bit like the undead vampire stories of Sylvania. The demon may have left, or died, or who knows what.. but the ghosts of the children became.. hungry ghosts. That kind of gets the K'hu'an off the hook for being the cause of the plague.. but they might still have known about the demon."
"I'll bet you Hakeber's panties that those tattoos are some kind of spirit ward.. but they clearly want the Vartans to think it really is a disease. Otherwise why make up the bit about not being a carrier for so many years after treatment? Or why the children don't get 'infected' before they can be marked?" Aaron wonders, going back into conspiracy mode.
"It's times like this I really wished we had convinced a mage to join us," Tasha murmurs. She takes a moment to shake her head out, focusing her attention before she says, "Maybe I can talk to them -- the children, that is, and try to figure out what they want. As for the Ku'hu'an, I agree; there's clearly an element of profiteering here, perhaps even predation if we discover a connection between them and the demon."
"You can talk to ghosts?" Aaron asks, raising his ears. "I thought you only talked to gods?"
"It's ... It's a long story," Tasha answers, her voice dropping to whisper desipte knowing their Vartan hosts don't understand Standard. "This is between you and me, okay?"
"Okaaaaay," Aaron agrees, not looking happy about it. "Is this going to give me nightmares or anything?"
"That depends on you. But it's a conspiracy, so I'm sure you'll enjoy them." Tasha scootches forward, leaning over to whisper, "Do you remember when I came back from the Collegia grounds? I said magic was responsible for my existence. That is true. And you remember our adventures in Amazonia, I'm sure? And you remember Nora Argentine?"
"Yes, the bi-.. bossy one that looks like you, sorta," Aaron notes, whispering back. The councilor likely can't understand them anyway, but whispering just feels right.
Tasha nods to that. "Yes, well, and you remember how I kept having dreams, about a person who looks like me, giving me advice?"
"Ah, the 'smarter Tasha' you mean?" Aaron asks.
The young woman sticks her tongue out before nodding. "Smarter and bossier, but she doesn't look like me ... I look like her."
"You have a nicer butt though," Aaron points out. "So, what's the horrible secret?"
"Tsk, and here I thought you'ld figure it out! But, well ... " Tasha takes a deep breath, casting a glance around to make sure it really is just the three of them, and then she whispers, "Our Nora isn't the first Nora. She's the fourth. I'm the third. The second created me, so that I could enter the Fenris, because it would only recognize Fred Kohler or ... Nora Argentine. You probably know my creator better as Tisiphone."
"Soooo.. which of your parents was possessed?" the Lapi asks, looking like he's imagining scenarios. "If it was your dad, that might explain some of your predilections for females.."
"Hey, I'm not a total copy. I still have free will. But I suppose it was my father, because he saw Nora when I was concieved. I exist because Nora's ghost created me, for a purpose I've fulfilled. And I'm only telling you this because I think it's relevant to this problem; I know my mother would want it this way. She would do her best to help these people, and so will I." Tasha leans back, returning her voice to normal as she concludes, "So I have a deep connection to ghosts, spirits, and gods. Do you think it will be enough?"
"Well.. that depends on if the spirits are still around," Aaron points out. "Six-thousand years without a meal could have caused them to fade. The fact that the children don't get possessed before they can undergo the ceremony sort of supports that. Or they could be bound to some item or place. The K'hu'an clearly know something of manipulating spirits. If they are pulling a long con on the Vartans, they'd need those spirits in case the birds decide to just stop playing along and need to be convinced again."
"Then it's time I asked them about it. Since we no longer need to worry about contamination, at least not a disease, please go tell the others they can stay. Keep an eye on everyone in case the Ku'hu'n release their ghosts -- if they know we're here and what we're up to, I'm positive they'll try and stop us rather than let us take their 'prize'." Pushing herself up, Tasha stands and stretches her wings. "I'll be going, unless there's anything else?"
"I might have enough thistlebark to keep us safe," Aaron mutters. "You should take some too."
Tasha lays a hand over her heart, replying, "If they should come to me, that would be for the best. I want to hear them. Besides, answering the drems of ghosts is why I'm here." She winks, giving her friend a gentle, if sad smile.
"I'll see you soon, I hope." Turning, she waves as she walks away.
There aren't any guards at the Temple (aside from the one that escorted Tasha) or any other security at the fissure in the wall behind the altar. "Nobody ever comes back," the guard warns her. "That's what they say, anyway."
"I hear that a lot," Tasha remarks as she stares in to the darkness. "I guess walking in to dangerous places to challenge the dark runs in my family." She then begins lighting her torch, making sure she brough a few extras in case the first should be lost. "Do you have any idea how far these caves go, or what's inside?"
"No, aside from the shadow-men," the guard says, and offers Tasha.. a candle.
Tasha takes the candle, laughing. "Well I'm sure there's nothing to fera with this," she assures the man. After patting his shoulder, she turns back to the dark and takes a deep breath, exhaling. "Here we go. I'll see you in a little while." And with that she heads inside.
For the first hundred feet, the bare rock presses against the hybrid, as the passage is narrow and not very straight. Then it suddenly opens up, into what she first thinks is a wider crack.. full of snakes. But it's just that walls have been carved to resemble intertwined serpents.. or possibly tentacles. There are odd geometric patterns inscribed in them, along the flowing, filigree script. The flickering of the candle make it seem like they're all moving as well. But at least it's not so narrow, and Tasha doesn't have to hunch over either.
Tasha takes some time to review the patterns, making a note of them in her book. Realizing the passages are extending deep -- and may extend quite a ways more -- she tears off a corner of her notebook and drops it on the ground, indicating the way she entered, and thus the way she may leave.
An old trick, but a good one, she muses as she stares at the piece. Guessing her 'hosts' migth take exception to her presence, she adds one more layer to her trail -- she walks over to the unshaped well and rubs her head agains it. If I can't find the trail, my scent should work.
That done, she walks back to the iconography and takes some more time to study it further. Snakes -- or pseudopods? -- Possibly a Nagai origin, or Celestial, but these people may predate either. I might be looking at a pre-Expeidtion ciilization. I should get some rubbings while I'm here. Walking over, she tries to press the blank sheaf on the wall.
With the rubbing done, Tasha notices something odd. The sound of rubbing charcoal on paper seems to linger a bit after she finishes. Or at least, something very similar to the rustle-scratch sound.
Movement? Tasha pretends to inspect her rubbing, but her eyes dart side to side, ears working and nose pulling in the air. At least I won't have to search far to find them ...
Nothing more is heard, but at least it's clear which path to take, since the passage hasn't branched yet.
Tasha breathes a sigh of relief before putting her rubbing away. Deeper, then. Turning towards the only exit, she begins walking, tearing up a sheaf of paper for 'bread crumbs' to use later.
The passage seems to go on forever. And the deeper Tasha goes into the mountain, the more it changes as well. First, the intertwined carvings sprout eyes. Just a few at first, but more and more as she pushes forward. After the eyes come.. teeth, or thorns. Some of these actually protrude from the walls. When the tentacles sprout mouths, it's right were it all narrows down a throat-like tube, where Tasha will need to go on hands and knees to progress.
The image makes Tasha's hackles rise. Psedopods, eyestalks, random mouths -- I'm sure Eli would be exciting, but these things make my skin crawl. Reservations aside, she dutifully copies down what she sees and leaves her trail, which leaves her with nothing left to be done but stare at the tiny opening.
This isn't safe, she decides, studying it. But if I leave now, I'll have gained little and put us in further danger. I'm sure they know I'm here by now, the question is, why are they hesitating? Are they waiting for me to bumble in to some sort of trap? To ambush me at full strength? Eying the opening, Tasha hunkers down to shine her light in its mouth, trying to ascertain how far it goes.
The other end is visible, just a few bodylengths distant (and at the very edge of the candle's range). It doesn't look like any of the teeth are sticking out at least.. but the mouths have sprouted stone tongues, making it seem like whoever goes through the tube is going to be licked (or tasted) by the walls.
I can only imagine the cultural significane of these tongues. On the plus side, not bringing others means I don't need to endure the jokes, thinks Tasha as she gets on her knees and starts making her way inward. The amusing idea of her friends teasing her is a welcome comfort in these dark, alien halls. She's been to less hospitable places before, but few have seemed -- tried to be -- so alien. Even Abaddon, in his terrifying dream, was at least familiar.
It's not a pleasant squeeze. The K'hu'an that she saw looked spindly, so this wouldn't be a problem for them, presumably. And it was just wide enough for her, meaning an adult male Vartan would never make it. When she pushed the candle out into the next chamber, she found four of the strange cloaked beings waiting for her.
Realizing she's not alone, Tasha quickly prepares herself both mentally and physically. She unaccompanied by allies, in a place that may well be created to terrify intruders. She has her knowledge, and her strength; but most of all, she has her courage.
And so she takes her time getting to her feet, then a moment more to dust herself off before folding her hands behind her back -- and close to her weapon. "Hello," she greets the cloaked figures in a friendly, conversational tone; a tone she has perfected over the many negotiations since the JEF's second founding. "I apologize for intruding like this, but I was hoping we could talk, and there didn't seem to be any other way to reach you."
The four figures converse in their odd, insects-dancing-on-paper voices. "Vartan?" one of them asks in Vartan, sounding.. whispery. Whatever it was using for a mouth, it made the sounds just a little bit off.
Tasha has no illusions that was she's dealing with may not be humanoid, or even like any animal she's encountered. Her long experience with peculiar sentients has helped prepare her for such encounters, making her curious as much as unnerved. I'msure they think I'm peculiar and unsettling too, she reminds herself, before turning her thoughts back to the matter at hand.
"Yes and no. And please, I recognize that you may not be comfortable in humanoid forms. There is no need for pretense around me. As for why I am here, I have come to discuss the matter of the Vartan colony above -- and the Origin Marker."
The four cowls remain silent, then turn and start down one of the garishly carved tunnels. "Follow," whispers the trailing one.
"Of course." With dropping paper trails too obvious in the creature's direct presence, Tasha instead focuses on brushing against walls whenever she can manage it. She's positive her anxiety is making her scent stronger, and for once, her emotions may help her rather than complicate things.
And so, she follows.
They keep going deeper, and the air gets hotter and more humid. It doesn't seem to affect the K'hu'an in any visible way, however, despite their course, heavy cloaks. The passage do get larger, however, and one of them has alcoves along the sides, where cloaked figures stand immobile. Each of the possible sleeping alcoves is also carved to resemble a grotesque alien mouth.. or at least Tasha hopes it represents a mouth. As they progress, the row of escorts dwindles, as one will just turn away down a side passage with no warning. Soon she's down to just one escort. "Name?" it rasps.
"Aldara Tasha," Tasha replies, meanwhile trying to mentally note everythign she sees. Taking obvious notes might be seen as crass, or worse, she she refrains for the time being. Besides, she has more important things to worry about. At least scent marking is still workable; I'd be in trouble if we ran out of walls, she considers as she waits for the strange creature to continue. I can only hope they have no means of removing scents, or better, are not familiar with Karnor abilities.
Since there's no way to tell if the cloaked figures have faces, much less noses, Tasha can only take heart in the fact the guide takes not action or notice of her marking. It doesn't even turn around to make sure she's still following it. "Aldara Tasha," the escort repeats. "Whom do you serve?"
"Can you clarify the question, please?" The young woman has seen enough to think these people may have a culture and customs radically different from her's, or indeed, any culture she has met thusfar; her request for clarity is both an effort to make sure she's on the right page and an attempt to understand more about her 'hosts.'
The escort stops, right in the middle of a long hall where the eyes are all in clusters of three and the toothy maws are long, wavering slits. It turns around, as if staring at Tasha, and asks again, "Whom do you serve. All serve. Whom do you serve?" There's no infection to the voice, so it doesn't sound threatening. But it's the only time the escort has stopped and faced Tasha.
"Very well. I serve the Joint Expeditionary Force, the God Abaddon, the needs of my family, friends, collegues, allies, associates, and those of my maker," the young woman replies. It may not be the correct answer -- what that is, she doesn't know -- but it is truthful, and at least she can be sure of that.
"Whom else?" the figure asks. "Who are you not listing? Who sets your feet upon the path to now?"
"Ahh, that. It may seem as if I follow them, but I do not. I follow the path, but they did not put me on it -- I discovered it for myself and chose to pursue it that I might find the answer they sought. Beyond that, to ensure the secrets are used for the greater good. But you asked a question, and I will answer." Head tilting as she watches the figure in the gloomy dark, Tasha answers, "I am not the maker of the path, nor the first; there were others. The Khattan, the Kampfengruppe, even those among the Vartans, Silent-Ones, and Imperials. The Khattans started upon it again, and drew in others. But they are not the first. I am sure there were others, but extending back as far as I am aware, the first is Adam, and those other mysterious figures who, in their many names, are said to be our origin. And perhaps, not even they are the beginning."
The figure seems to accept this answer, since it turns away and starts moving again. Soon, they come into a very large chamber. The lighting is poor, so it's more the sense of vastness. It seems roughly spherical from what Tasha can see, with ramps spiraling downwards from various other entries where lamps are kept. Her guide starts down one of the ramps.
I wonder if that was what he ... if it's a he, wanted? Wait a second ... Tasha follows, but her ears suddenly perk up in alarm as she realizes something. Can you read my mind?
There's no response from the guide to the mental query. As they descend, the nature of the carvings subtly changes. The orifices and eyes are gone, but the vine-like tentacles are getting thicker and thicker, until the ramp itself has to widen to make room.
If he can't read my mind, then he may be aware of the true history of the Markers. Interesting, Tasha thinks as she descends, deeper in to the earth. I wonder if the Markers hold prominence in their culture, as much as ours? Soon her mind turns from thoughts of the Markers and theur history to that of the peculiar walls, pseudopods she can only assume are culturally significant. Perhaps their actual form, or the form of their own gods. The eyes and mouth are gone ... Ah! Perhaps the Ku'hu'an themselves are of a class of 'eyes' and 'mouth' to a central authority, a higher class, or ... even a single being. A diffuse intelligence? A communal entity?
At the bottom of the ramp, the tentacles have flattened and widened out, all leading from a hole or depression in the floor of the chamber. Nobody else is down here besides her and her guide, who continues on towards the orifice. Even the filigree script has vanished now.
Tasha follows, but sets her mind to be on guard. She might be on the verge of finding out just who or what the Ku'hu'an answer to. What they serve.// She could just as easily be on the verge of being thrown in that hole. All she can be sure of is her anxiety, and so she tenses, waiting for what is to come.
The guide stops at the edge. The whole is only about four feet across, but there's no light penetrating into it. The K'hu'an kneels down (although, the process suggests it has more multiple knees on each leg.. however many of those it may possess). "Speak to the Source," it whispers to her. "Respectfully." it adds a moment later.
"Of course. Your ... Leader? ... Your Source will receive the respect due a prominent figure of a culture to which I am a guest. And of course, I think you as well, for allowing me to come this far," Tasha whispers back, then asks, "Should I approach or remain where I am?"
"Close enough to lean over," the guide replies. "Do not fall in. Kneel if you feel more stable that way."
"Thank you." Tasha walks over, then lowers herself to sitting cross-legged, hands resting in her lap. Kneeling has always been difficult for her, her digigrade legs bracing her body poorly. "Is there a manner of speaking I should use, or topics I avoid? This is a new experience for me, and I do not wish to cause offense through ignorance."
"Speak your mind to the Source," the guide notes. "Be respectful. Do not lie or evade when questioned. Do not clench your (undecipherable, probably an organ)."
"I do not understand the ... organ you refer to. I will be respectful," Tasha whispers back, waiting to see if the cloaked figure has more advice to give before daring the hole.
The figure remains motionless. Perfectly motionless, really. Do they even breathe?
I suppose that's a 'no' on explaining. Tasha watches her guide for a few seconds more, then turns to the hole. After taking a moment to plan what she is about to say, she begins.
"Source of the Ku'hu'an, I have come from above to discuss the matter of the Vartan colony that resides upon this mountain, and that of the Origin Marker of Vartans which was offered up long ago in exchange for the warding of spirits, whom were called 'disease'."
"Aldara Tasha who Serves Many, but who is also known as Tisiphone and the Bird of Hermes, what of the Contract do you wish to discuss?" The voice is less whispery than her guide's, but also more echoing. As if it is coming from a long way off - which doesn't seem possible given the low volume - or that it is made up of many voices speaking at once.
Tasha is certain she's never heard another voice like it, and she is sure that it's owner must be equally outsider her knowing. And it knows me; not of me, it knows me for what I am. There's little time to dwell on this most unusual of meetings; the Source awaits her answer. "We have determined the nature of the 'disease' to be that of spirit infection, likely that caused by the murders of a number of children thousands of years ago. We also believe the colony may be safe, or made safe, without outside assistance. As such, we believe that your assistance, while appreciated, may no longer be required. In addition, I have come to retrieve the artifact. In short, I seek the release of the Vartan colony from the contract and the Origin Marker."
"The Contract must be upheld, whether the threat is gone or not, in case it should resurface," the Source replies. "There is no reason to cancel it."
"We believe that we can defeat this menance without your aid. We now understand it's nature and the resources needed to fight it. I am no stranger to ghosts, now are my fellows. If it cannot be defeated here, we will relocate. If we are not enough, we know of others who are. The honor and self-respect of a people need no longer be spent, nor yourselves burdened by our ignorance. I believe the Contract should be canceled," Tasha replies in turn.
The Source is silent for some time, as if deliberating. "We do not understand 'honor and self-respect'. We received payment for our service. The service must continue. We will ward them against spirits for so long as they present themselves for such. This is the Contract. To end it, they must cease requesting the service."
"I will forward that information to them so that they may make that choice of their own accord. As that will require their input, I shall put that matter aside for the time being. That leaves the matter of the Origin Marker, and should they continue to utilize your services, it behooves us to now discuss what I might do to recovery it from you before hand. In this way, our time need not be wasted," The young woman suggests.
"The Marker was payment for service," the Source notes. "It is not part of the Contract, only a reminder of the worth they placed upon the Contract. What would you offer for the Marker?"
Tasha's blinks at this. "The Marker is not part of the contract? I was lead to believe it was; what, then did they sacrifice for your services? As for what price I will pay, I have noticed that you know much of me and my doings, and I little of you, so I would ask: what od me and mine interests you in exchange?" She asks, her mind racing as she considers what such a being could want from one such as her; if, indeed, she has anything at all to give.
"The Marker was the agreed upon price for services, in perpetuity," the Source explains. "It has served that purpose. You have yet to serve your purpose. Perhaps you can be of service to us."
"Then tell me what it is you would have of me," the half-Vartan asks, even as she can feel her anxiety rise, and her hackles with them. Hold together, Tasha. You knew this would be dangerous when you came down here, she reminds herself, trying as best she can to calm herself for what may come.
"We need to know more of your potential," the Source says. "We would taste you."
Tasha pauses at that as her thoughts collide with her confusion. Taste? Could that be ... literal? Knowing there's only one way to find out, and afraid to ask, she presses on and asks anyway, "Taste? Is that literal? And if I am allowing a taste, may I ask to know more of you in turn? The last part comes as a surprise even to herself; her training in politics has driven her to reflex, it seems, and she is momentarily proud to know she can still muster strength in times of stress.
"Knowledge will be mutual," the Source promises. The guide moves again, as if suddenly reanimated. It turns to Tasha, and whispers, "A great honor. You must leave your sharp weapons behind, and loosen your carapace."
Tasha waits, uncertain what is needed of her until her guide reanimates. She listens, then nods. "Of course." Limbering her weapon, she carefully lays it side-down on the floor nearby, careful to not chip or dent the intricate carvings of this surely sacred chamber. With that accomplished, she unfastens her neckerchief, then removes her top, putting them with her weapon. Finally, she zips down the top of her suit, just enough to expose her shoulders. Turning, she asks, "Is this acceptable?"
"Yess," the guide claims. "You may enter now."
"Enter ... the hole?" Tasha asks uncertainly, eying the black abyss.
"Do not fear," the guide says, and gestures with a spindly limb to the orifice. "Fear clouds your taste."
"Then allow me a moment, please." Chasing fear from a mind is difficult at the best of times, a fact Tasha knows from ample experience. But though it is hard, it isn't impossible, and as she has overcome it before, she strives to again. Closing her eyes, she regulates her breathing and fills her mind with her purpose, those she loves, and why she has come. Her convictions strengthen her even as they have driven her here, and when she opens her eyes she is, if not free of anxiety, at least much allieved of its presence.
Pressing forward, Tasha begins her climb in to the deep dark.
The curves of the tentacles (or whatever they represent) provide surprisingly good hand-holds for climbing down. What little light there was up above fades quickly, though, replaced by darkness, the sound of movement below and.. an amazing array of aromas. Flowers, incense, spices.. and things Tasha can't begin to find a comparison for. Each one is distinct, somehow, rather than all mixing together.
Along with fear, Tasha has found untold wonders in her travels. Ships that can sail between stars, heroes of old, creatures of flesh and metal, and their endless vareity of customs. Here now is an experience unique among the treasures of her mind. Against all sense, and even her own logic, she finds herself smiling as she climbs in to the abyss. Nothing in her mind is like this place, and whom can say they have been here? It is the great pleasure of the explorer, to go where few have traveled. The thought comforts her as she makes her way.
Almost twelve feet down, in total darkness, Tasha reaches a surface. It feels like stepping onto a leather pillow, except that it moves. "We will catch you," the Source says, much louder and closer now. "Let go."
Here we go, Tasha thinks as she eyes the void below her. A leap of faith. Well, faith has gotten me this far, hasn't it?
And then she lets go.
She doesn't fall far, before landing on.. well, it isn't soft, or necessarily solid. The odors intensify, and move along with whatever the hybrid finds herself sinking into. She once hid in a pile of pillows as a child, and it's a bit like that. With no visual cues, she has to rely on feel as things move against her, especially her hands. The individual odors help her to distinguish the different.. pieces? Parts? The Source is made up of suede-skinned serpents.. that might be centipedes also. There are hard parts too, identifiable as teeth and round orbs - crystalline eyes? There are branched tentacle-like limbs that might be tongues, even. And a constant sound of rustling paper from the movement.
Tasha struggles for balance, until she realizes she's being support -- and actively, at that. As her limbs still, she focuses on her senses, realizing as she feels the various limbs -- at least, she thinks they might be limbs -- that the icongraphy above must be literal. A truly unique being, older than the Expedition, she realizes, and when she pairs them with his incredible knowledge of her, she finds herself in awe. It is like a god.
"I am here," she whispers, though she is certain the Source knows of her presence, it is a curtosy. Perhaps more curtious than her words, she realizes she isn't afraid of it, nor repulsed; for her it is another being, and a great one, ancient and knowing. To be here is a blessing, though she is sure few would recognize it as such. It is her great priveledge to walk amongst gods.
One of the serpent-forms wraps around Tasha.. and then breaks apart into smaller ones that scurry about, and tickle her scalp as they run through her hair. "Many flavors," the mass around her says, the sound coming from the coordinated movement of the insect-like legs. "You, your mate, your companions, your mother, the dust of another world. The past. You have seen the Portal. That is where the K'hu'an came from. Another reality, very different, and a very long time ago. We persist. You seek one other, such as we. Adam?"
Another world! They are truly alien, not merely in the local sense, but beyond the veil of our universe ... "Yes, Adam. I did not know he -- if 'he' is a he as I know it -- was from another universe. Adam is said to be the Origin, most likely the Origin of Humans, but there are others that are spoken of, and it is unclear if they are one in the same, many and opposed, or in some other way intertwined. Ahriman is another; there may be more, each connected to a Marker that is said to be their gift to those thay have created." Those they have created ... then, could that mean that we, to ..? Stunned by her own realization, the young woman is silent for a time, finally concluding, "The Sifrans -- that which we call the makers of these worlds and the creators of the portal technology -- seem to have many portals. They reach in to many universes, for what purpose, I do not truly know. But Adam, he is connected to us, as are they rest. Maybe some day, I will know the answers to these mysteries, but I do not now."
"We would also know," the Source says. "This intrigues us. The Marker is key to this knowledge?" it asks.
"So it would seem. It is said that together they lead the way to Adam, though what that path entails and who or what Adam is, I do not know. It has been suggested Adam has perished, but if he is from outside our universe, then understanding him may be difficult and record of him imprecise. What I do know is that I must have three Markers, along with three machines, and that they will reveal the path to Adam. The path may open with fewer machines, but the Markers are compulsory," Tasha explains as she settles in to the conversation, as well as her surroundings, finding herself ever curious. Reaching out, she brushes a hand through the forest of limbs, smiling at the touch of another reality.
"We do not know of these things," the Source says. "We do not know Adam, or his origins. But you refer to him as a Creator, as a Source. We are a Source. We will help, but you must bring back to us all that you learn."
"And if it is dangerous to know?" Tasha inquires, head tilting. For a moment, she wonders what it must be like to sense others as the Source does.
"This concept is foreign," the Source notes, and flips Tasha upside down for a moment before rotating her back upright. "How is knowing dangerous?"
Tasha has to stop her conversation to catch her things, securing them when she's returned to the ground. "Knowledge is a kind of power, but not all power is safe. Power can corrupt, and corruption can destroy. Knowledge is not wisdom; it provides only information, not the caution or experience to utilize it safely. Knowledge is change, for as we know it, it becomes a part of us, and changes who we are, and not always to our advantage. Adam is a Creator, and his knowledge must surely be great. To bear it may be a heavy responsibilty, dangerous," Tasha explains, knowing that her words beg a certain question.
"We are many tens of thousands of years old," the Source claims. "We have no use for power, but change is valuable. We wish to learn more."
"Then we are alike in that," Tasha says with a smile. "If I can return with the knowledge, I will."
"You must. You will. This is the Contract," the Source claims. "Even in death, you must honor it. Do you agree?"
"How would I answer in death, save by my ghost, if I should linger?" Tasha asks, wondering if the promise entails more than a simple return of knowledge, but something somehow deeper.
"You will give us your blood," the Source says. "We will keep it. If you do not return within a Vartan lifetime, we will use it to summon you to us."
"How curious ... Your abilities are truly amazing," the young woman remarks. "I can only imagine how that must work."
"We know how to use spirits," the Source claims. "We know how to consume them. It is easier with the Vartans shielded. The spirits must seek us out instead."
Tasha's brow raises. "So, you would consume my spirit if I should die?"
"Yes. We would conjure it, and consume it to learn," the Source claims. "A spirit may be created many times over."
"I suppose it is better than letting my knowledge go to waste," Tasha conceeds, seeing little way around the matter. "Though there is a distinctly omnious quality to having my spirit bartered away. I don't see as I have any other choice, there is nothing else you desire?"
"We desire many things," the Source claims. "But we desire from you only what you can give, and nothing more. Do you agree to the Contract?"
Tasha considers a moment, knowing full well what she's agreeing to may have far-reaching consequences, but having little time to sit and dwell on them. The offer won't change with waiting, so she decides she'll just have to manage. She always does. "I agree." Somehow.
"The Contract is made," the Source says, and Tasha feels something bite into her neck, right where it joins her shoulder. She's also rising upwards, being lifted up towards the top of the hole.
"Erk," the half-Vartan cries,, reflexively bending towards the bitten arm. By the time she can refocus she's rising, and it's the light she must flinch from.
At least the light is dim. Tasha isn't lifted out completely, but close enough that she can grab the edge to pull herself out.
Reaching upward, Tasha grasps the lowest hand and slowly she pulls herself from the abyss, making her way up and back in to the light.
The guide is standing again, and waits to Tasha to recover her belongings. "I will guide you back. You will carry the Marker when we come to it," the creature rasps.
"Thank you." After dressing and retrieving her things, including treating her wound, Tasha nods the guide to lead her out.
It is only a few steps later she realizes she never heard the Source inform her guide of the contract. "There are more things in heaven and earth ... "