The survey of Sinai and the Procession takes several days, but the actual analysis will probably be done on Abaddon 'just in case' there is anything hidden in the data. Due to fuel constraints, the trip back to Abaddon will take a few more weeks of subjective time, and Nora recommends hibernation for as much of the real crew as possible to conserve resources. Bellerophon was able to successfully contact Xenea and the Temple, even if the contact was mostly to establish that it was possible.

Tasha finds that she has a lot of time to herself. Hakeber and the recruits have been put into suspension, and Eli is preparing to go in as well, although technically any of them could be reached through the VR systems with a bit of help from Remiel. Yue has her own hibernation system, so cannot be contacted without waking her up.

With things to think about, paintings to be done, rest and preperation to be had Tasha volunteered to remain awake for the weeks long trip. Aside from reflection and artistry she's had a host of minor monitoring duties to contend with, typically inspecting areas of the ship Nora and Fred can't reach physically or else sitting watch during Nora's off-duty hours. Her easel has thus become an active traveler of the ship, carried and set up where ever she expects to be for more than an hour. Likewise the Origin Marker of Vartans, the mysterious stone-like object serving as both a reminder and an inspiration for her work.

As reminders go, the reminding has become two way: It is there for Tasha to remember her task and her experience within the Way and it is also there for Horus that he might know she remains open to contact when and if he should desire it. For now Tasha has left contact until she feels they've both had time to rest and adjust to the sudden and immense changes in their lives. Yet, she feels the time is rapidly approaching when she may need to make the first contact herself.

The Marker itself hasn't done anything at all out of the ordinary. There've been no changes to the image embedded in it or to the 'currents' or 'ripples' in the odd material. Before she went into hibernation, Yue couldn't detect any sort of psionic activity from it either (although Tasha did learn that there is technology that can detect psionics, if they are of artificial origin). Tasha hasn't even had any remarkable dreams involving Horus from keeping the Marker near when she sleeps.

That nothing has happened hasn't surprised the Cadet. She had months of dealing with the Marker's silence well before reaching the Way. Then, it was anxiety causing. Even infuriating at times. Now, she has her answers and with them the contentment and patience of knowing. If Horus can't or won't reach her, she'll just have to reach him. She even suspects she might be wrong about the Marker and that the exiled creator might be present within the systems of the Melchior rather than his old home. Testing that is the first step to contact, when she tries.

Looking up from her easel to stare up at the Titan she hs a thought to wonder: Why not now? It has been some time. Even painting has become routine, a sense that disturbs the soul poetry of the working of it. She has decided painting should never be banal, producing work equally as devoid of spirit.

Bellerophon Titan Bay
For once, the bay isn't crowded with supplies. The shuttlecraft has been moved aft into the cargo bay, leaving just the Melchior and its cradle to fill the bay. Since bringing the second reactor online, Fred rigged up a power feed that could be used to recharge the Gryphon, so that its own reactor doesn't need to be carried along.

The contrast between Melchior and Themis-Skoll is striking. The Terran-build space-combat Titan looked powerful and dangerous, at least before it was damaged. Melchior looks calm and elegant, if masculine. His menace is hidden.

""In the image of the gods,"" Tasha repeats. It was something Ser Heraphel told her once, of the nature of the Magi Titans. Each was created 'in the image' of the Progenitors they mirrored. The young woman had wondered how accurate the likeness was; were they verbatim copies? Abstract representations? Stylized takes on the original Archon bodies? Some impressionistic work, or perhaps self-serving examples created by species who had forgotten or put aside their creators in favor of their own image, as the Silent-Ones eventually did with the Balthasar?

That final thought makes Tasha /snort/. "/Remade in their image, and male too. Poor Neith, forgotten and put aside even in /gender/." She knew the Priest-King to be a tyrant of singular hubris, a would-be god king. Now that she has seen beyond time, travel spaces and farther still to speak with beings so far beyond that old king she thinks he'd have quaked in this throne to even /know/ of them, she wonders at the pettiness of mortals. Mortals like her. She reflects on her own hurbis, then, born largely out of an attempt to not feel insignifiant -- at least at first -- and later that she might puff herself up to feel big enough to not be swallowed by who and what she knows. A defense. She doesn't think the king's version was a defense, but the self-hype Aaron and others spoke of.

Petty, she decides once again. It seems very petty. Childish. As she eyes the machine, she wonders at the relation between a creator and their children. Is it acceptable to be childish, or is there a line that shouldn't be crossed? is it different for every progenitor? And what, if anything, will Horus make of her?

At least Tasha isn't fully a child of Horus. Given Tisiphone's interference in things, it would make her closer to Eve - which has its own worrisome connotations. But it was clear from Hakeber's translations that Eve disliked most of her kin, but didn't seem to single out Horus. So.. did all of the Archons know what Horus's duty was supposed to be, or just a select few?

Eve. Tasha didn't like Eve, at least not from hearing her rant and of her eventually suicide when her situation seemed impossible. That the young woman later realized that reminded her far too much of herself caught her right in the gut, a self-made ephiphany knocking Cadet down a few mental pegs. In the end that proved for the best, the humility and empathy she gained paved the way to approached Atum honestly and as herself, rather than through the lense of anger, frusteration and puffed-up mental defenses. By empathizing with Eve she also learned how fallible the gods were, abandoning the idea of begging their help. That, too, proved vital.

And yet now here she is with the matter of the Hall of Souls said and done. The result. Post-ascension. Beyond epiphany. At the summit. However she thinks on it, she's in a place she never quite expected to be and everything is different, suntly or not. And now she thinks on Eve once again, how alike they are, and for a moment comes to fear -- the fear she might some day end up as Eve did should the task prove too much for her. And what of Horus, who abandoned his own task, failing in his own way and giving up? Or did he, was it distaste? Inability? Doubt?

There's only one way to know. And so Tasha rises, putting her paints aside, her datapad, her belt full of sensory equipment. "Tasha, ship's log entry. I am entering my Titan for maintenance. Special entry, command staff only: It's time. I'm going to try and speak to him. Be out in a while. Wish me luck."

There's a beep in reply from the intercom. Being in his cradle makes it easier to enter Melchior, since Tasha doesn't have to hang onto his back waiting for the hatch to iris open.

It's a familiar enough action even if the reason is so very different. Horus. Creator of Vartans. God of his own religions, god to millios -- billions? Trillions? The reason the Vartans aren't still animals, blind to the universe and blind to themselves. Horus. Meeting Atum prepared her for a great deal, made so much seem less so if not inconsequential, but still the Cadet is brought to pause. Atum was alien, yet still somehow familiar. More alien than familiar, but familiar. Horus is more familiar still. She realizes there's an intimidation in understanding -- and a false and buffered safety in its lack. By not truly being able to grasp greater beings she defaulted to basic interaction, yet Horus may well be so much closer to her, and so his bredth and awe as well.

Tasha pulls in a breath, flexing her hands a moment, then nods to herself. Running away was never a consideration, but walking forward is no easy task either. She pushes herself on; she has job to do.

The pilot couch has rotated to be level with the ground, as always, which puts the hatchway-airlock directly overhead. The little 'cubby' where the Marker fits is still there of course, the only location outside of the Way where it showed any activity.

Deciding the change may be important -- and not having planned to do anything else with the situation besides -- Tasha returns the Marker and lowers herself in to the chair. She eases back and closes her eyes, not needing the see the spartan interior; the displays are all projected directly in to her mind after all and closing her eyes is restful.

The interface arm makes contact, and Melchior awakens. "Hello, Tasha. How are you today?"

"I am just fine Mel, just fine. I've had a nice and restful few weeks painting and getting ready for the future; learning the answers didn't hurt either. Not at all." The young woman runs her hands back through her hair, not caring if she gets any paint in it. Not now, with Horus looming. There was something else she meant to do here as well, something that should be said and yet dithering to remember it makes her feel she's avoiding the meeting. Ah. How could she forget? It speaks of how weighty her life has become that she would; certainly it wasn't done out of a lack of concern. "Mel, I want to answer you question now: Your creator is proud of you. You and I completed his task. He met Mafdet, he's happy now, I think. The Magi Mission is complete. Now, we begin a new one."

"What is our new mission?" Melchior asks. There are not sudden bursts of poetry, or alarms, or self-destruct countdowns triggered by the mission ending, however.

That's a good sign, Tasha decides, not entirely sure what the success of the mission might spell for the Melchior. She doubts Atum nor Horus would allow something so crude as a self-destruct to end their plans, but she could never be sure. "A task has been given to me by Atum. We will carry that out. I can't say more, because I'm not sure they'll let you remember, but don't worry: We will be doing it and you will be involved. Now ... "

After laying her head back and getting comfortable the Cadet folds her hands on her belly and nods a little. "I need to get to it. Nothing will appear to happen, but I will be working. I need to speak to someone. I will do so now."

As menus scroll by in Tasha's mind she finds what she was looking for. The blank entry is executed and she steels herself for what is to come.

There is the usual 'blank' world.. just a white, infinite plane under a white sky. Tasha seems to be alone, but she doesn't really feel alone.

Somehow, Tasha doubts she'd be here if the system was truly empty. There would be no reason to execute, nothing to meet. It would just be an upjumped virtual world which could just as easily be done outside of this place. No, she isn't alone at all. Time to do my job; you can do it, Tasha. Don't let Horus intimidate you, she pushes herself. After all, she has Atum's backing.

Drawing in a breath, the virtualized Tasha folds her hands behind her back and lifts her head looking around as she calls out, "If you don't remember me, my name is Aldara Tasha Argentine. I have been sent by Atum to speak to you and help you complete your mission. I know you are here, there is no need to avoid me and I am not going to leave." There. She congradulates herself inwardly for not stuttering or otherwise embarassing herself, but does decide maybe she was too formal. Maybe too hard-edged, but then she also reminds herself she has no idea what Horus is thinking and the last time she saw him he was distinctly defiant -- and she is now the face of the beings he defied.

'So what?' Tasha blinks at the response, ears flicking and head reflexively cocking to the side in an avian fashion. She seesshe was right to expect similiarity; she might have said the same thing. It is, however, much more unnerving coming from a 'god' than a teenager she realizes. Far more. At least he's talking -- can talk, she tries to assure herself.

"I know you must be mad at the others, or at least disagree with them. You must have a reason for abadoning the duty given to you; a reason for doing what you did. I don't know what the mission was or why you would abandon it. I just know it was vital to dealing with the Ogdoad, something that has become a serious problem for us. Us: Me, your children, Eve's, Mafdet's, Neith's, Ahriman and all the rest, and the other species who never had a Progenitor. Talk to me, Horus, tell me what's going on," the young woman tries, deciding being hard might be a bad idea. Understanding and willing to listen may be a better approach.

What Tasha gets instead is a memory. One of her own, of standing above the odd rotating shapes deep inside of the Titanic, and feeling that pull..

The Cadet shudders. The soul crushing wheel, the flattener of space and memory. "You're afraid then, or at least don't want to use those-- Those things." She isn't sure what to make of the insinuation that the weapons are somehow like the rings. Soul crushing weapons? Weapons that use souls? Is that the answer? "The weapons flatten space? Flatten who we are, who you are, erasing memory? Time? The soul?"

The Ancients had terrible weapons. Desperate weapons, Horus claims. Weapons for slaying gods. It takes tremendous energy to do that. And the source was souls.

At least this is something she knows a little about, even if she'd desperately rather not. "'Psychic flensing,' the method you can summon one of the Ogdoad's angels in to this universe. The Source spoke of them, so did He-Who-Moves. I don't know the rituals, but I know they exist." Which leads the young woman to a question she'd hoped never to have to ask herself, never need to: Could she do it? Could she use such a ritual, wield that responsibility? Where would the line be, how great the need? And could she live with herself? She doesn't know; she hadn't the power then, and so was glad to leave the question in the dark where it belonged. Now ... "Maybe there are alternatives. Alternative power sources, alternative weapons. It's a big universe. There are other universes we can try."

We are on our own, Horus claims. We always have been. We cannot use the tools of the Xylphrim or the Waybuilders. I refuse to sacrifice my Vartans to use the Weapon, and only they can use it.

The young woman bites her lip. Is this what Atum wanted her to do? Convince Horus to end the Vartan species? All at once she finds herself switching roles from would-be savior to heartless executioner of men and gods. She feels sick; wonders if this place would allow her to feel worse. Caught off guard and finding her postion has shifted beneath her feet she begins to pace, hand to head, and think. She knows it's a show of weakness, but right now she needs to clear her head and not crumble entirely.

"So we don't use the Weapon," she starts again, more train of thought than planned interaction, " ... We can find something else. Maybe, what else ... The Ogdoad's angels. Or the Null. The Titanians have been at their work ever since you all vanished, maybe they found something useful. There's also the Sifran's ability to fabricate souls; the Ogdru-hem recognize them as being somehow sufficent. The Source said so. Maybe we can try freeing the Ogdru-hem from the Ogdoad's control and using them against the Ogdoad -- I know at least one of them would want that."

My plan was to wait, Horus claims. But the others panicked. Afraid to see if the threat even remained. The Ogdoad might have already been taken.

Tasha stops pacing, looking up at the featureless sky. "Can't we determine that? Go to Erebus, do you know where the prison is -- is it in this galaxy?"

Erebus is here, Horus says. But it is far. Too far, perhaps. In my time, the children were limited by energy and technology. The Harrowers cannot approach Erebus, for it sits within the tides of the Void. The Ancients and the First Ones could reach it. Mafdet was determined to find the means.

That may tickle some memory in Tasha.. something about a superior Khattan hyperdrive.

"What would be able to reach it? Would any of these:" The hybrid tries projecting, seeing if she, too, can share memories by force of desire. She lists every exotic ship she can think of, including the Dark Horse, as well as artifacts and anything else that she encountered that might be useful. The graveyard of starships within the dead ringworld, the Titanic, the Dainty Mauler's peculiar drive system. Finally she remembers something else: What was it? The second, or was it the third? A quantum hyperdrive. " ... help?

"My ship?" Tasha tilts her head the opposite way she had earlier. "The Dark Horse is currently undergoing trial and training missions near Caltrop Station, near the edge of Sifran space. My crew is waiting for me to return, which I plan to do in roughly three weeks."

Bring me there, Horus says. It's difficult to judge tone in a voiceless-voice, so it could be either a request, a plea or a command.

"We're going there anyway, so you can come along," Tasha finds herself saying quite before she can help it. It might be the command-like wording, or the dismissiveness, maybe it's the way in which Horus nearly wrote her off in words. Or maybe it was just counting her out of Vartandom that did it, as if she both wasn't and didn't care about her own people. Deciding to go with it after all she folds her arms. "Does this mean you're willing to help our Vartans?"

My concern is protecting them, Horus replies. That is all that matters to me. If it means protecting others as well, that is simply a side effect.

"Maybe you should spend more time around Vartans, Horus." Tasha points right at her head. "My mother would yell at you. So would a few others. Did you know we're currently the Clients of the Khattans, Mafdet's children, too?"

They use Vartans as a threat, Horus claims. But Vartans thrive. That is what matters.

The Cadet had heard of this. Heard that the Progenitors cared mroe for species than individuals, perhaps not even the feelings and quality of life of a species so much as that species existence. "That isn't all that matters to Vartans," she tries, wondering what the creator -- her creator -- might say to it. Wondering when and if he'll turn around and tell he she isn't one of his.

"Well at least I understand that. Me, I care about us. I'm an explorer, but I'm also hoping to make things better." To Tasha's mind her words sound earnest, but somehow inane -- inane ina familiar way. Where has she hear herself react this way before? Where--

'Daddy issues,' the young woman laments. Of course, of course. In hindsight she's amazed she didn't see the possibility coming; didn't she spend most of her life resenting a missing father for seeming to not care about her, for abandoning her? And now here is the Father of Vartans stirring that same resentment -- stirring it intentionally? She isn't sure, can't be sure he even cares about individuals. "Well, fine. You care about that, I'll handle the rest. Maybe Thoth will be more helpful. Or Katha-hem." That was mean; she lets it stand anyway. "Is there anything else you can do to help?"

Thoth should be hidden, Horus responds. Thoth being his child, of course.. but still surprising as it's the first time Horus expressed any concern for an individual.. if it was concern at all.

At least unlike her mother Tasha can hope Horus doesn't notice her petulant childishness when faced with a parent. She pushes on, equally hoping she can forget it and regain her footing. "I've been told to find him by Atum. Thoth is to be my mentor, maybe provide me with a species." Resisting the emphasis proved too much for the hybrid. "Ahriman is gone, so I have to rely on you or find him myself."

Why would I know where he is? Horus asks. Does your sire know where you are right now?

"My sire?" And Tasha's brows go up. Way up. "Do you mean you, or maybe Eve? Oh, Eve is dead, and you're ... you." The young woman folds her arms again, eyeing the sky. "Or my actual father? No, he doesn't. I was created without his knowledge, so he wouldn't. My other creator knows exactly where I am. You saw her, she looks like me. My mother knows too, in a way." Why am I going on about this? "So I guess they mostly do!"

I do not know where we are right now, Horus claims. I have no way of locating Thoth if he does not wish to be found.

Seeing as Horus didn't rise to the bait nor the conflict, Tasha exhales, taloned hand running through her hair as she takes a moment to calm herself. Surprised, in fact, by her own vehemence. I must have had that bottle up forever.// Most people try to yell at god, she seems to have actually done it -- and she knows she'll be dwelling on all of this later. "Alright," she breathes. "You don't know. Get back to the ship. See what we can do. If you want to know where we are, we've depart Sinai orbit and are returning to Abaddon. That's our home based, the JEF -- the Joint Expeditionary Force. There are Vartans on Abaddon, if that means anything to you. Sinai too. There are other Vartans on this ship."

The young woman hadn'r expected a history lesson. Being corrected is also grating, but as she's a little sick of her own dayy issues she decides to be a good girl and work at trying to get along again. "Oh?" Her ears perk. "Is that their original names? Well." A tilt of the head. "A translation, isn't it? Not that we know what language the Sifra spoke, or even what they look like. So maybe not?"

"So, like Xilfrim. That's what the Niss called the Sifra. Some of the First Ones survive," Tasha notes. She turns to look off, not really sure she isn't looking at Horus -- he could be everywhere or nowhere for all she knows -- but it helps calm her down. Part of her wishs she still had the grandfatherly, if secretive, old feline here to help her out. "And we both know what the Xilfrim did. Maybe you know: How did the Xilfrim manage to destroy the entirety of Galactic civilizations by themselves? Is it like magic, did they edit reality across galaxies? How did you ever stop them?"

I was not there for the war, Horus claims. I was spawned afterwards. We did not stop them, clearly.

"And if you had then their hold on the Ogdoad would have crumbled. I remember, it was that, um, Nora-word--" The Cadet taps the side of her head until the word reveals itself like she knew it would. The hybrid has become used to the sense of it, that feeling a word must exist and that she knows of it but can't quite remember. Nora's words, the foundation of her language skills and manner of speech these days. "Conundrum. Can't stop them completely, can't leave them alone either. The Cill couldn't deal with that, or are there details I don't understand? You can see my memories, is there something I don't understand about all of this? Details I'm missing? I'm trying to do a good job here, so help me."

"Weak?" Tasha asks, brows up all over again. "I knew you all didn't get along, exactly, but weak?"

He feared what knowledge of the knowledge itself would lead to, Horus says. So he made sure that it was hidden from the rest of us. I do not know if he and the Cill are actually gone, however.

""Joined them in the Void," that's what I've heard from the Titanians and others. What the Void was is never mentioned. The Prison Erebus is a Void, but there are many voids: Deep space, other realities, the dark hyperspace. Yue suggested that the weapon you left behind was he Cill homeworld." Tasha turns back to the sky, again uncertain she's looking 'at' Horus so much that she feels like she's looking at him, which is more than enough. "Would the Cill homeworld be any use to us? Do you think we're weak?"

Marduk was clever. The Cill were clever. They had access to the stored knowledge of the Civilization of Five Galaxies, Horus claims. They could have made the rest of us believe whatever they wanted. Their homeworld is a weapon, but not the Weapon.

The young woman arches a brow, wondering if her request had just been dismissed. She pushes. "Does that mean you won't tell me where it is, then? Or do you think Yue is just using me to find the location?" She admits to herself she should have seen that possibility sooner; she also finds herself possessed of an increasing sympathy for Eve's position. On our own, huh ... "So they were clever, but maybe not resilient? More clever than I am, I suspect, maybe you too. But it's down to us, so, we should use what we can get our hands on."

I do not know where it is, Horus claims. I may have, in the beginning. I am diminished. You are not.

"I'm not exactly a Progenitor though, or even a First One." Realizing she just undermined herself and made herself feel bad to boot, Tasha bites her lip. She did make it this far, she is holding a conversation with the creator of Vartan kind no matter how diminished he may be. She met Atum, walked the Way. Come on, Tasha, don't be like Eve. Inhale, exhale. "Well, right. I'm sure I'm amazing, I met Atum, walked the Way. The Waybuilders like me and I didn't run off to 'the void' when I figured out what was going on. We can still do something. Reach the ship. Study the Weapon. What else ... there must be more to learn, more to try."

More importantly, you exist, whereas the Progenitors and First Ones do not at this point, Horus points out.

"Well, existing is--" Don't sound like Nora, don't sound like Nora, don't-- "I mean ... " And then it hits Tasha all over again. The Cill failed. Marduk failed. The whole First Ones civilization failed. And now it's ... her. And she volunteered for it. The sudden urge to cry is powerful, indeed, matched only by a overwhelming and perverse pride at somehow reaching the height at all. She further reminds herself she isn't alone in the task, though her roster of assistance pales compared to what once was. "Well. Um. There is that." She chews on her lip. "It's a immense task, isn't it. Atum must believe I could do it, but then he must have believed you could too."

Something is better than nothing, and he was upset with me, Horus claims, bluntly. There is no peak. You can rise until you reach the point were you cannot handle it anymore. This is the lesson of the Archons, if there is one. We were not gods, but we were given the tasks of gods.

"I used to carry your Marker around. As inspiration. I found it comforting." Feeling little need to put on a tough facade at this point Tasha sits herself right down where she is, propping her head on her hand and listening. ""Be careful what you ask for; a god can carry the world on their shoulders.""

Worlds are simple things that can take care of themselves, Horus claims. They don't need gods. Very few things do. It is important to remember that. Have you gotten as far as you did depending on gods, or in spite of them?

"Tisiphone did sort of create me, so technically I am both an angel created by a ghost-god who was losing her focus and born to a Vartan mother. What I mean is, I had to have both of them -- and you too. So I needed you to start. But that's not what you mean -- it is, but it isn't. It's relevant." The young woman reaches up and taps her nose, thinking. Atum said the difference between mortals and gods was smaller than she though -- was that a vote of confidence? A commentary on the Waybuilders and their ascendency? Now that she thinks about it ... "Weren't the Waybuilders just regular mortals like me, once? And, um, I guess the gods didn't help much later. Not directly. You're all, uh, mostly broken of lost or can't help. The angels, too. Very few are free to help."

They Waybuilders are a created lifeform, Horus explains. Their creators, perhaps, began as mortal beings. Mortality is not a given. Nor are they ascendant. They created the Way to serve their own desires. Gods are limited beings, compared to mortals. Mortals change. They grow and evolve over time. They improve, usually. Gods are static things. We do not adapt well to change.

"'We', I thought you said you're not a god?" Tasha grins a little despite herself; maybe she can do this, or at least she can make vaguely witty observations of the worn down remains of a once mighty being. Or that. "I know what you mean. It seems like whether we're just mortals or gods or what-ever depends on how we're seen and how well we do. Even Atum isn't all powerful, all knowing. The Waybuilders probably aren't either. Atum needed me to understand you, because he doesn't." Looking up, the young woman decides she's tired of looking up. "Can you create an avatar? I keep looking around and talking to a disembodied voice in the sky is making it hard to not think of you as a god. And that reminds me, the part about the Waybuilders anyway: What is 'the Way'? Really?"

A black and gold giant stands in front of Tasha. The size of Melchior, but looking far less mechanical, like the empty armors in the Hall of Souls. In place of eyes there are simply two burning holes of Vril energy, and nothing so mundane as jet engines. The feathers of Horus's wings themselves radiate the same energy as his inner being. "The Way," the giant intones, without opening its beak, "was a weapon. A weapon for invading and destroying a universe."

Tasha finds that she's still looking up. She had hoped for something more like the Melchior's avatar, though she isn't entirely surprised to see Horus in all his old glory. Rather stunned and certainly in awe, yes, but not surprised. She finds her eyes wide and brows at maximum without quite realizing it. "I've never seen a Vril-ya, um, complete before. Just the shell." She thinks on the Melchior, her machine really is a stylized approximation of a being Khattan technology seemed ill equipped to properly replicate. She doubts they have any real idea what vril-energy is, either, and reminds herself to ask. "Alright, a weapon. It seems like there are a lot of these weapons. So, to invade another universe. Destroying it. But, why? Or ... " She blinks. " ... will exist in the future." " ... or will I know that in time and shouldn't ask?"

"It doesn't matter," Horus claims. "It is in the distant future-past. The Way had a beginning and an end originally. It was.. a cannon barrel, to use a simpler metaphor. The shell was fired, the target destroyed, and weapon turned into something else, because it was big and took a lot of effort to build."

"I kind of like it, disturbing and really sad rason to construct it and all." Here Tasha glares a little at Horus, though she doubts he had anything to do with it. "When I was in the Way, part of me wanted to stay. I guess to an explorer like me -- even one that isn't particularly good at the details -- the Way is like the ultimate home. Go anywhere, see everything, and have a place to return to. I though I liked Atum too, but now that he asked me to help kill my own species I'm a lot less certain of that. I wanted to." And then the young woman stands up, though of course she must still crane her neck. She tries standing on the tip of her hooves on whimsy. "So, then, what and who are the Vril? And vril-energy? Yue will never stop asking if I don't, and I want to know anyway."

"The Vril is a universe, accessible by the Way," Horus explains. "That universe is one of living energy. That is Vril. The Vril-ya are the parts that have been sent into the Way, and who use the wells to enter other parts and times of the Way."

"And so Atum is like ... A ship? A ship full of Vril, but the Vril merge and split again and then return to one being that, um, shares the memories?" Standing on the tip of her hooves doesn't help, not that she expected it would. A frivilous little gesture to help relieve stress -- but she does have an idea of how to stop looking up at least. Exerting her own influence over this place, Tasha tries to summon the Melchior in to being, right hand held up and on a level with Horus's face. "But what were Eve's first children then? They were said to have vril-energy, but were they Vril-ya or were they something else?"

"She created beings from the earth and water and sky, and gave to them some of her fire," Horus explains. "They did not prosper. So she started over and followed the methods that the rest of us did."

"Why did they fail, is there something about the Vril-ya that doesn't work well in our universe? See," the young woman waggles her right hand at Horus, " ... since I sort of work for you all now, I'm trying to understand. I might have been too-eager to like Atum and didn't think it through, and now here you are, but the Vril-ya created us so we're still family even though we're different. I want to understand how we're the same, and how we're different. Understanding you is part of my job, but I can't do it very well if I don't understand what you are."

The armored head actually tilts to one side and stares at Tasha. "We did not create you. We guided. We taught. We added nothing that was not already there, waiting to be born. This universe is fertile. We were mostly gardeners."

"Eve tried to be a god, and failed," Horus points out. "We are not gods. It is no surprise that she failed. Flesh and blood is not meant to contain or control the Vril."

This causes more hand-waving to be directed at Horus. "I know, I know. We were already there, you uplifted us. Ahriman and Mafdet did a lot more apparently and Eve tried something different and that didn't go well. Don't underestimate your contribution." Don't underestimate your contribution? The young woman thinks that sounded very mature of her. "But, okay, the Vril are energy beings? Or are the Vril only aware and sentient in some forms or combinations? Wouldn't Vril-Humans have two minds? Or more? Is that why they failed? Is Vril like electrical energy, causing physical damage? Your universe must be similiar to ours, since you seem to be able to manipulate our reality?"

"Vril is not physical energy as you understand it," Horus says. "It is the divine fire. The soul. And it can touch other souls. Living ones, conceptual ones, physical ones. But is not the same as yours."

"That's ... Wow." Needing a moment to think about that, Tasha tries again to draw the Melchior in to this. She knows it'll just be a copy, essentially a prop, but she feels like craning her neck so long is going to make her sore and she finds the need to look at Horus eye-to-eye. If she's going to take on his responsibility, she decides she deserves at least that.

After much squinting and working through different mental actions the machine finally appears, much to Tasha's wide-eyed surprise. Grinning, she turns and takes to the air, lopping around until she lands on the outstretched hand, then she sits herself right back down and smiles across the gulf to Horus. "Much better. Okay. Vril is like another soul, but unlike our souls which seem to be our memory over time and are made of space-time, gravity and other things I don't understand yours seems to have, uh, motility. Influence. It can touch things we can't. I'm a little jealous. My soul seems to be crammed full of people I can't let go of and a link to a dark being. But I think I understand the Vril now."

"I do not see how it will do you much good," Horus says. "It can still be destroyed."

"This must be what you mean by being unable to change. But the Vril aren't gods, are they? So Vril is god-like, but the people of Vril have a hard time changing unless ... They split and merge?" Tasha points a finger across, noting Horus's burning eyes. "Or through experience? Are you vril-energy made for a special purpose, like a robot, and not a 'normal' Vril being? How can it be destroyed? And purpose ... Well, I'm an explorer. I'm exploring. I'm supposed to understand you and I'm doing that. I'm really being very succesful, here!"

"Thoth was our attempt to change and adapt," Horus says. "It is how mortals do it: offspring. He is more like you than like us."

Tasha gives her tail a little wag. Now that she isn't trying to put on a tough front or blame Horus for old problems, talking to him has become easier. "I'm sure we'll get along great if I can ever find him. Maybe I'll have to explain him to you, too?" She gives a well-meaning shrug. "Not that I always understand my sibilings. And children, I'll have to figure them out too. Nora, Fred, Mariel." Her head shakes. "But, where were we ... The Vril. I think I understand, now. See, you do change and grow. You're probably learning something right now. Maybe you didn't spend enough time around us? If you can guide us, can't we guide you?"

"I am an ember," Horus points out. "Most of what I was is gone. You speak as if the Archons can still be reached, but we are all ghosts now. There is no point in guiding us. Our time is over."

Tasha frowns at this. She thinks to argue it, but then changes her mind thinking that what's done is done and there is little reason to recall the dead -- until she thinks about Nora again. For curiosity and the future, she changes her mind once again. "The Titanians say that a Archon can be restored if their vril-energy is returned to them. My maker, Tisiphone, was a mortal woman who refused to give up, even beyond death. That you are here at all means your time isn't over. You are here with me, and you are here trying to save the universe you tended. Maybe what you were was gone, but what you are is here. Here and now, you can still change things. You are changing me right now. You might live again, become something again -- be more. Change. Fix your mistakes. You say there isn't a point, but if I had said that about Nora, Nora would never have gotten a second chance. It's not over until you're over." And so the young woman taps her noggin, knowingly. "Look at me, I went from drover to ha

ving your job. Your time is whatever time you want it to be. You even told Atum to go stuff it!"

"I have no body, no power," Horus says. "I could barely manipulate the body made in my image when I had to. Even if you found my original body, I could not fill it. There is no new source of Vril with which to replenish me."

Tasha just shakes her head. "No new source that we know of. You said you don't remember much and it's a big universe. Nora had no body, no power, and she couldn't leave. That didn't stop her. Besides, you owe it to all Vartans to be a good role model and not give up -- and you owe it to us to come and say 'hi' some day." She then thumbs back towards her Titan, so much like the faded pseudo-deity. "See? We still remember you. There's a big statue of you on Varta. Now," and then she holds up her hands, "I know what you're going to say: "My time is over, it is time for my children to grow without me, I cannot interfere, they do not need me," but see this is where you don't understand these children, so let me explain: We may not need you but we want you around. vartans are inclusive. You can be among us and not have to do anything. Most Vartans everywhere would curse me if I didn't try and bring you home, and definitely help you not give up."

"If this is the case, then do you not owe me?" Horus asks, leaning forward a bit.

And so Tasha leans back. "Owe you what exactly?" She asks hesitantly, ears canting back.

A golden talon rises, and taps Tasha in the center of her chest. "I saved you from destroying yourself," Horus claims. "So now you are trying to return the favor?"

"Oof," goes Tasha. It's the first time she's been poked by a Titan, or a Titan-like entity anyway. Shojo was right, it is unsettling. As she rubs her chest she gives Horus a sidelong look. "Oh don't make it like that, besides I didn't know if Mafdet or you or someone else did it." She then holds up her free hand. "Not that I'm not grateful, that was nasty test Old Yama put me through. Whatever the case, no, I want to save you because I want to save you. Weird head aside, I am mostly Vartan, but even that might make any difference. I'm doing it because I want to and because I'm right about us." Her eyes then narrow a little more. "Why, are you up to something?"

"I reserve the right to request a boon in return for saving your life back then," Horus says, pulling back his talon and straightening up.

"Oh now you want a boon. And you said you're not like us." Tasha doesn't stop looking suspicious, but she does shift to lay on her side, having ben largely knocked out of her comfortable position by being prodded by a demigod. "Hokay, Horus, what comic thing would you ask of the ungrate and not mighty Aldera Tasha Argentine, current would-be savior of the universe, random walker of the Way, inheritor of your job?"

"It isn't the time to say," Horus says. "First, you have another obligation to fulfill."

"Which of my many obligations would that be?" The young woman resist the urge to try and hide herself under her wings at the very thought of he list of obligations.

"The first one, which allowed you to get this far," Horus notes. "The dark contract."

"That's one of my favori--" Then Tasha's expression goes flat. "Oh. I see what you mean, that's not going to go well, is it?"

"I prefer to work with someone who does not have a lien on their soul," Horus claims. Is he being a smartass? "Fulfill your promise to the Source."

"This is the headstrong smartassery I expect from my kind, you know," Tasha laments, shaking a finger at Horus. She can't quite follow through though, frowning a little. "A lien. is it really a lien? The Source never explained it very well. Do you think it's safet to tell the Source everything, knowing the Sifra bind it, knowing it may tell the Ogdoad? I don't like breaking a promise, but better than breaking the universe."

"It does not matter what the Ogdoad know or do not know," Horus says. "The Sifra must concern themselves with the Waybuilder Archon. The Source spoke to me for many thousands of years though. I never replied. But it passed the time."

"Mmmm," goes Tasha, who mulls it over a moment before nodding. "The Source was the first godlike being I met, and the first Dark being. Back then I didn't know they were our enemies or even much about them. I just knew the Source. Of all the beings -- you all included -- the Source was the most open and irect with me. I always valued that, it made me want to trust the Source. I wanted to believe it was on my side. A friend, and ally. Maybe of the same mind? Maybe I wanted to believe it too much, because it was the first, and the other possibility was terrible. Or mayeb I was just being one big Vartan stereotype." The girl snorts. "Oh, well. Trust, right? We'll see; I'll do it. I know that the Source wishes to be free as well. Is that something we can do, if the Source is on our side?"

"The nature of its captivity is beyond my understanding," Horus admits. "Whatever was done to lock it into this reality must be reversed. It is not like the usual binding of a Harrower. It requires a Sifra or their successor, I believe."

"Which is also beyond my understanding. The backup Clients, the Aelfin, have very little idea about these things -- Most people on these worlds know nothing about what we're dealing with. Even the people around me, only a few know the full truth. Which leaves us with few options right now. I can investigate when I complete my pact, though." Tasha lowers her head on to her arms, staring at Horus across the gap. Horus. God of Vartans. Progenitor. They're having a pleasant converation. It still gets her again and again. "I think if we figure it out, though, we might be able to use the Source to try and free other Ogdru-hem. Katha-hem doesn't desire to carry out its mission and resents its slavery; Sedu-hem probably isn't any different. They'd be amazing allies." She stares a moment longer, then cants her ears back. "Time doesn't pass quickly here, relatively, slowly outside. But it does pass. I should remain here too long or Nora may come and try and drag me out fearing the worst."

"Your brain requires chemicals to store memories," Horus notes. "The longer you linger here, the greater the shock to your brain will be when you return. Try not to forget anything." And then.. Horus is just gone.

"You could say, "Good bye," or "Good night Tasha," you know," Tasha tells the now empty space where Horus was. She pushes herself up to a seated postion and rubs her neck. "And I'm sorry I was rude. I have issues, I can bore you with them some other time if you really want to know. I'll just, um," she looks around, then begins to stand, " ... I'll just be going then." She thinks ti say she was glad to meet Horus, or mention how things went, or something along those lines but leaves it be. Nothing she'd say could really encompass what happened here. Horus trailed off; she'll do the same.