Sansa was not staying with her father. She had a nice room down at the resort, which also had a huge bed and a complicated sunken bath that had a lot of functions. The two women had some fun with the hand-held shower heads, but for an older woman Sansa didn't have nearly the experience that Tasha did. She'd never even been with someone who had lips before. So it was Tasha who had to take on the role of teacher.
It was exhausting work, but at least the spacious bed would not go without use. Tasha was still the first one to rouse when daylight began to pour in through the glass wall facing the balcony.
The scent of a female Vartan; the scent of sex. For a moment Tasha finds herself disoriented, thinking herself back on Sinai and that her life as it is had been a dream. The view from the window doesn't help at first. Sinai is also a blue paradise world, at for those lucky enough to live well upon the forgotten Sifran testing world. She blinks, bleary, at what she sees until an arriving spacecraft breaks her out of her uncertainty. She looks over at the sleeping woman entangled in her arms. Not Blackwings. Her remarkable new life is real after all.
The news deserves a kiss, so she leans over and kisses Sansa. "Good morning, Captain." It feels strange saying that to someone other than Gabriel, but then she'd been saying it for years before she'd met him, too. Nostalgic and strange, both at once.
The Vartan stirs and turns her head to face Tasha. Empty eye sockets peer at the hybrid, and Sansa croaks, "Have you seen the Yellow Sign?"
"Gkkk!" goes Tasha in that half-choke, half hiss utterance of startled nonsense that can only come from utter surprise. She leans back as far as she can, and it's only her experience that keeps her from scrambling off the bed entirely. She musters herself, ears flattening, and with a deliberate effort pushes herself to reply, "Y-yes. What. Do. You. Want?"
"Call room service," Sansa says groggily. "They have something called a Continental Breakfast, even though this is an island." After a stretch and a yawn, the Vartan blinks her perfectly normal eyes at Tasha. "You look like something bit you on the arse.. everything alright?"
Tasha blinks several times, but then suddenly grins her winningest smile. "Oh, um, ha-ha. I think I was still dreaming. A nightmare, right? I'll just go and call room service." Sansa gets another kiss, but hesitantly this time, then the young woman rolls over before sliding off the bed. "Room? Room service. Continental Breakfast, two."
"Would you like coffee, tea, juice or milk with that?" the room replies. "And would you like it with toast, pancakes or fruit cup?"
"Get all of that! Vartan portions!" Sansa replies.
"I'll have pan--" Tasha pauses, listens to Sansa, then grins. "Fine, all of that, Vartan portions, for two."
The best part of staying on the island in situations like this is that there just aren't that many items of clothing to collect. Within a few minutes there's a chime, and platters of steaming food slide out from a wall panel onto the dining table. There are also carafes of juices, a jug of milk and pots of coffee and hot water, along with plenty of teas and other mixing options, including three kinds of honey.
Sansa immediately goes for the jam jars though, to sweeten her toast and pancakes.
Despite being the guest, Tasha decides to make up for her reaction by pulling chairs and arranging things on the room's table. She copies Liza's style of arrangement, then seats herself along side Sansa. "So, do you get to this world often? I didn't think to ask, we were busy with other things, after all." She grins a little more, then begins piling her plate with pancakes, opting for surup as Gabriel taught her, as well as a cup of coffee (also Gabriel) and some buttered toast. It's a good start. "This is my first time here."
"We come at least once a cycle to visit pop," Sansa says, and dumps her fruit cup onto her fish-sausage and wild ham. "So, first time anywhere for you?"
"Do I seem naive?" Tasha asks carefully, following Sansa's example and dumping her fruit on top of her pancakes.
"No, just.. new?" Sansa says, and massacres some meat and eggs. "Shiny new yacht. And you seem young. I can tell you've probably had pleasure training!"
"Yeeeeah, I guess I have." Tasha has to chuckle. That's one way of putting it. "But, hmm, yeah I guess I am pretty new at all of this. I only recently transfered to this new, um, assignment, which came with the yacht and the crew. Before I mainly performed Titan piloting for my patrons, and looked in to various matters. But as you can see, my patrons are Terra-centeric, so some of what I do is about that. Otherwise, I go where my patrons need me, though I have leeway in deciding our overall tasks. I'm glad you think I seem young, our Clan Vartan intern seemed to think I was old and just looked young."
"That is also a possibility," Sansa says, twirling the tip of her knife. "You're engineered.. expensive.. why make something like you and let it age? I think you mentioned the other Vartan on your crew last night.. left her on her own, didn't you? Not that she could get into trouble in a place like this! Never saw the thing with the Terra fans. I mean, they have lots of entertainment and weird cultures compared to Galactics that were.. you know.. civilized from the start and didn't have to make up a bunch of stuff out of ignorance."
"They have their charms. And besides, it'd be a problem if I didn't like them -- I had to deal with enough self-hate early on and I'd really like to not do that again." Tasha works her way through her plate at a more sedate, more careful pace that might even seem refined. It's all thanks to her time around the others -- Liza especially -- of course. "Do you think of me as an 'it' Sansa? I think I understand your reasoning, of course, I'm just curious. And as for Lacci, well, Lacci could really use a lot of what we did last night. I didn't leave her alone, though. She was being watched. I do care, even if she's kind of a pain."
"Kids'll get to you, that's for sure," Sansa claims. "As for last night.. 'it' would be my special toy back on ship. You aren't a machine, you're a person. A person someone spent a lot of time and money on, rather than a few minutes and the cost of some really good liquor."
"Well, it's nice to be appreciated." Tasha lifts her coffee and clinks it to Sansa's own cup. Even if she wasn't built in a lab, she was built, and it's nice to have that aspect of her life recognized and approved of. "Well, hopefully Lacci had a good time, too, and doesn't come back with kids of her own or some other disaster. I tried to set her up with some Homeworld Vartans who seemed as she as she is, harmless and kind of adorable. You know, I'd nevere met one before? It never occured to me how different we can be. I hadn't even had that much exposure to Clan Vartans until recenrly."
"Aerie Vartans?" Sansa asks. "Must be rich. They almost never leave Varta, after all. Easier for us spacers to bring them the outside world. Safer anyway. I know the military clans have their feathers fluffed about protecting them."
"Fluffed described Lacci's reaction to meeting them, that's for sure. But you know, they have a lot in common. Once they started talking you could see they'd get along well. That seems to be true for a lot of peoples, a lot of cultures. Put the past and expectations aside and just talk, see where it goes. I find is works out more often than not." Tasha wonders for a moment if tidbits of wisdom like that are why she seems old to Galactic peoples. It's like the Niss said: She's had a much higher rate of experience and strife than most Galactics see by her age, or even many years beyond her. "Me, I think they're adorable. I was tempted to try and have some fun with the sister, but I feel like I'd break her or something. She's so delicate, maybe even child-like, especially given her age. Lacci's a bit like that too."
"Sometimes I think we stay young for too long," Sansa says. "Well, some of us anyway. I was working as a kid, until I was old enough to start learning things. Ugh, be glad you ain't having to learn the family business starting when you could still sit on your sire's knee."
"Well, I was made for a purpose so I did sort of have expectations placed on me before I was born. Then I had the expectations as I grew up. Just finding my own way was hard, I'm lucky to have the yacht and be out here doing things mostly on my own. Although ... " Tasha pause, her fork hovering above her nearly cleaned plate. She frowns slightly, then glances sidelong at Sansa. "Sometimes my patrons ask things of me, and I can speculate on future events based on what they ask. Or, even if they ask in the first place. I was contacted a little while ago. It's probably nothing, but just in case, you might want to be ready for ... I'm not sure. Something. But, it's probably nothing. These things are hard to guess, right?"
"You made to be psychic then?" Sansa asks. "Or part of that weird luck experiment I read about. Although.. that one is hard to swallow."
"Luck experiement?" Brows furrow, that's not something the hybrid had heard of before. "No. Well, probably not. It's not like my creator explained everything that went in to making me, after all. I don't think I'm psychic, either. It's more that we have, um, special channels and this patron doesn't get involved for small things. He let me know I might be needed, but if he's asking for me maybe something might happen. I don't know. I just wanted to let you know, because I'd feel bad if I didn't."
"Ah, supposedly the Confederates are trying to breed their ships for luck.. somehow," Sansa says, and wiggles her talons in the universal 'spooky business' manner. "Oh, so you maybe have to take off at a moment's notice then?"
Tasha nods to this. "That seems likely. There could be something more complicated about it, Galactic transport may be disrupted, so you might want to make sure you have a way to get where you need to be if you need to go quickly. Nothing extreme, just, well, as a precaution." And then she shrugs, popping the last of her meal in her mouth, washing it down with what remains of her coffee. Who knows.
"What, like Titanian pirates?" Sansa has to ask.
"I have noooo idea. This one's a bit, uh, eccentric. I'd just be misleading you if I guessed, since I don't really know myself." Tasha refills her coffee, then takes another pancake, wrapping a sausage around it and a napkin around that. The tip gets dipped liberally in surup. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. Well, want to go do something?"
"My dad wants to go boar hunting," Sasna notes, and taps the side of her head. "He's too old to be doing stuff like that. At least doing it bare-handed and unarmored.."
"Should I head out, then? I don't want to keep you busy when you only get to see him every cycle. My crew is probably wondering what I've been up to." Tasha noshes down the pig-in-a-blanket, more nibble than bite. She thinks if they keep talking like this, she might just have to make a plate of these for her trip back.
"Don't forget to pick up your wayward chick too," Sansa teases, then leans across the table to give Tasha a (literal) peck on the cheek.
This makes Tasha giggle, of course. She kisses back, then rummages around in her side pouch before producing a card. "Here's my company contact information. This one also has my personal contact, and I got yours last nigth when we first met. Don't be a stranger -- and if anything does happen and you need help, I'll try to assist." She places the card on the table, then quickly prepares three more pigs-in-a-blanket for her flight back. With that done, she waves and is off.
Time to figure out what trouble -- or not -- Lacci has gotten herself in to. The hybrid brings up Lacci's locator using her executive priviledges and heads in that direction.
This brings her back to the boardwalk, where she finds Lacci and her new friends having breakfast. It seems to consist of strange looking pancakes wrapped around meat and fruit.
Well at least someone at the table has good taste. Tasha makes her way towards the table, lifting a hand when she's spotted. "Hello Lacci, have fun with your friends?"
"Oh, hi Tasha!" Lacci waves back, looking bubbly. Well, she should be at her age. "We had a great night! We went to an arcade, and dancing, and the water park, and fell asleep on the beach watching the aurora."
"How nice! I'm happy for you." And it's true, Tasha is glad to see Lacci having a good time. The poor girl seemed to really need one, to loosen up a bit before her anxiety started infecting the crew. "Do you mind if I sit down? I just got back, myself."
The three teenagers shift their seats to make room for the fourth. "Oh this is Swain and his sister Swan," Lacci introduces. "We didn't exchange names while you were with us. What've you been up to?"
"Oh, I spent last night making the aquintance of a Vartan captain by the name of Sansa. She's very nice, taught me a great deal about macro-shipping transports, protocol, and I taught her some things as well." And so Tasha smiles. "It was a nice evening. Still, nice evenings aside, I do want to warn you that one of my patrons contacted me last night and we may have to leave early. No details yet, but I wanted you to know, just in case."
"Oh.. well, I suppose we've had a good break though," Lacci says. "Meeting the whales was really fun."
"I'd heard a lot about them, so it was nice seeing them up close," Tasha agrees, head nodding slowly. She then looks between the three and adds, "By the way, I've been considering a trip to the Homeworld at some point. If we do manage to drop by, I'm sure Lacci would like to say 'hello'. In fact, Lacci, if you think you need an extended vacation I can probably arrange for you to return with Swain and Swan. I understand that might be awkward, however."
"Our travel arrangements are pretty convoluted," Swain admits.
"It'd be better if I went with you Tasha," Lacci claims. "You'll need a guide.. and a way through customs.. and probably other things."
"Then we'll just have to have Lacci visit after we've all arrived seperately." Tasha nods, and that's that. "Well, it was nice meeting both of you. I should check in on the rest of my crew." She then turns to Lacci and nods again. "And you're right, I could use the guide. Help with customs would be welcome. Do you want to stay here, Lacci, or come back with me?"
"Well.. the ship is right over there.. and we haven't finished breakfast yet. I'll only be a little while longer," Lacci promises.
Tasha reaches over and pats Lacci's shoulder as she stands. "Take your time. Enjoy your meal and your new friends. We'll see you in a little bit." She then turns and smiles at the two other Vartans. "As I said, it was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll meet again in a few months time, or so." She inclines her head, and then she turns and heads for the ship.
And within the ship, the Marker awaits.
There's a figure on the upper hull - Yue, sunbathing. Because that's a normal thing to do before noon for humans, probably. The rest of the crew, sans Jotoki and the Phins are inside, including Tasha's own dark mirror, Samael. Who just loiters in the intersection of the main corridor and the airlock halls.. right in front of the elevators. So he's the first one Tasha encounters out of necessity.
"Did you get the message, too?" Tasha's beyond being surprised by Samael's behavior, at leats not this sort of behavior. Besides, she knows he's a who-knows-how-old lesser being from the Dark, it's not as if she can expect him to act like something he's not just because some other exotic beings can.
"What message did you receive?" he asks instead of admitting anything.
"Have you seen the you-know-what Sign, from the face of the woman I had been having nice morning with. No reason why she -- He -- asked, or instructions, or anything beyond that. Just 'Have you seen.' That's it." And so Tasha thunbs back at the elevator. "I was going to go report in, but I figured I'd better go actually see the you-know-what and see if it's doing anything unusual. Maybe the things have a message service built in?" She shrugs. Who knows.
"Or you have begun to go mad from your exposure to the Sign," Samael offers. "That is its purpose. On the individual and societal level. It is a weapon."
"Wait, what?" Tasha, who had been heading for the elevator, rounds on Samael. "And you didn't think to tell me this before now? Is there some reason or does Ha- He just like making people crazy? Does He eat crazy? Is there a purpose to this weapon, and why attack me?"
"Like all gods, Hastur wishes to be worshipped," Samael explains. "A specific sort of madness is the vehicle for that. And a story, as well."
"Oh good, crazy stories." The young woman heaves a sigh. She waggles a hand at the elevator door, then heads towards it. "Well, lets save this story for my office. I really don't want anyone else infected by any of this."
Samael takes that as an invitation (apparently not all demons require specific invitations after all) and follows Tasha. On the VIP deck, Liza's door is still closed, which usually means she's in her room, but there's no other indication of anyone else being around.
Tasha makes dash to her office, just in case Samael decides to start spouting damning fireside randomly. Once inside she locks the door, which has been coded to only open for her and no one else (including Gabriel, Liza, and Katie) to prevent inadvertant, or compelled, access to the dark Marker. She considered putting it in Artifact Storage, but didn't want it near the Niss either. With that out of the way Tasha drops in to her chair, turning around and gesturing to the chairs infront of her desk. "Come. Have a seat. Tell my your scary stories, now that we're alone."
Samael sits on the desk. "The story is known in various languages as.. roughly.. The King in Yellow," he explains. "It usually performed as a play. Those that witness it are changed, and doomed to act out the lives of the characters within. And to spread the cult. It is like a virus."
"A play-virus. Well that's a new one for me." Tasha leans forward, elbows on desk, fingers intertwined. "'King in Yellow' isn't that surprising, given He really seems to like yellow. Or, I guess, what I percieve as yellow? Maybe that's just how his nature translates to us. Yellow. Just like how Thotep has his goat 'brand', Ha-- Oh, well it's too late now, isn't it? Hastur has yellow. So, this virus, this yellow-cult. That's what He wants from me? Will it get worse? And, what happens if I don't go mad, will he revoke His assistance?"
"He has already rendered his assistance," Samael points out. "It would be difficult to revoke at this point. But spreading his cult anew may be an appropriate form of payment for his services.. unless he asks you to destroy a planet."
"What's another planet," the hybrid says dryly, spreading her fingers. "I really don't want to be on His Bad side, and He did help us when we desperately needed help, but I'm not sure what to do if he asks me to destroy, say, here." She thumps her hoof to the deck, indicating the world they're on. "And a cult? How am I supposed to do that? And can I? Go around driving random people crazy? Or, do I even get a choice?"
"Are you not already adept at driving random people crazy?" Samael asks with a straight face. "Cults are easy. People enjoy starting them over any bizarre notion that appeals to them. All you would have to do is show people the Sign." The demon then cants his head to the side and adds, "If you wanted to, that is."
"Caaaan I be grateful to Hastur and not show people the Sign without Him trying to grab the planet I'm on out of disgruntlement?" Tasha asks, head cocking the mirrored direction, quite out of reflex.
"I hadn't considered that you might be grateful," Samael admits. "The first thing you should watch for is using blood to write in a language you do not know. It will cause people to ask questions. Mainly 'Where did you get all that blood?' but eventually they'll get around to the writing itself. You can write love poetry, however. That.. can be appeasing. Sometimes."
Tasha squints. "The.... blood will get around to writing itself? Like, random pools of blood? And you probably don't know this, but I do tend to end up covered in blood on a regular basis. I don't think anyone here will be that surprised, unless they don't know the source. Or why." She wrinkles her nose. "This spunds a lot like what Hake-bear is dealing with. I'll ask her to keep an eye on me. We'll need to create a list of everyone who has seen the Sign and be ready for any strangeness. More. More strangeness. Yellow-style strangeness."
"Try not to wear any yellow if you can avoid it," Samael says. "However, if things do seem to start spiraling towards darkness.. I can assist you with other solutions," he offers with a grin. It is the exact kind of grin that Karnors never use in public. The sort that looks like it wants to be wrapped around somebody's throat.
"My eyes are yellow. My wings are yellow! My. Hair. Is. Yellow." Tasha heaves another sigh, dropping back in her chair and sinking in to it. "You know you don't scare me with your demon-grin. You are just a little darkness, after all, and I do the murder-grin better anyway. So what are these alternatives. Out with it."
"Sacrificial offerings, of course," Samael says. "Ritualized sacrificial offerings. Offerings of blood and madness."
"Wellll, great." Tasha begins to sigh once more, then realizes she's been signing a lot in this conversation and so stops herself. She drums her fingers against each other, thinking, then finally states, "We'll deal with it as it comes. I'll have Hake-bear look in to it, and Yue and any other senior crew member keep an eye on anyone who has seen the Sign or heard me say the name. Ultimately the crew is the most important thing, so if it comes down to it I'll do what it takes to protect them even if it means problems for me. They don't know what happened yet, either, and I'm thinking of just keeping that quiet."
"Should I be keeping a look out for potential sacrifices, just in case?" Samael asks. "The innocent, the pious, the guilty.. and of course other demons and gods. There are so many small gods, after all."
"Try and stick to a list containing people we really don't like, our enemies, that sort of thing. If we can remove an enemy and appease Hastur, then that's probably the best choice as sacrifices go. Maybe that one god ... Leviathan. He's the reason we're in this mess. Put him on the list, or is he beyond us? I think you said he was." Tasha's brows arch. For a moment she thinks to review what she happens to be discussing, how it all came to this, and why gods why is she making a sacrifices list. But then it's the gods that got her in to all this, and mort foibles and concerns don't mean a whole lot at this level of reality politics. The kind of person who would balk here might never make it this far, though she isn't sure if that makes her feel better or worse.
"You are the dark horse in this competition, so using everything at your disposal isn't exactly cheating," Samael notes. "A dark horse in a Dark Horse powered by a dark horse. You're unexpected. Underestimated. Always remember that you can use that to your advantage too. Nobody is too low to rise up, and nobody is too high up to be brought low. You don't have to be an agent of chaos though.. just as you don't have to follow the rules of order. Do what you think is necessary."
Tasha listens to the advice with a look of careful focus, nodding slowly, fask a mask. When Samael finishes, she nods once more. "I'll do that. Right now I want to see how things go, if it's not too much we'll just endure. If it becomes a threat we'll think of an alternative, one of the options you mentioned, or something new. Leviathan probably isn't our enemy in the usual sense of mortal enemies, so attacking him is risky, and ultimately he's not one of the Ogdru-hem or an Ogdoad and I'd rather sacrifice our main targets and not create new pantheons of adversaries. Well. I think that covers that. We'll see how things go. Was there anything else?"
"You could sacrifice Thotep," Samael suggests, still grinning. "But you probably wouldn't enjoy it. And don't try to listen to the dark marker either."
"I'm sure it's filled with a lot of madness inducing advice," Tasha says dryly. She rolls her shoulders, then leans forward and peers at Samael. "I remember you said you were /free/, now/ I thought maybe you might want us to do that, or get rid of your boss, but now you say I wouldn't enjoy it. Well, Thotep kept His word and he hasn't stabbed us in the back -- thought I understand He /might/ and that the plans of gods are convoluted and often end up making me feel /used/ -- I hadn't really thought of going after Him. Actually I remember you seemed a bit eager for me to sign up as one of his servants, too. Just what do /you/ want, Sam?"
"We demons can be confusing things.. or we like to keep people guessing," Samael claims. "What did your demon want?"
"Which demon?" Tasha asks, brows going right back up. "I seem to have a lot of them, these days."
"The one you carry with you, tucked away in the dark corners of your mind," Samael clarifies. "The one that helped you be who you are today. Well.. maybe helped isn't the right concept for her."
"See, when you said the one in my mind I wasn't sure who you meant. You see what what I have to deal with?" Tasha spreads her arms, indicating her life by gesture. "So, Nora. She's been quiet. I've been trying not to ask for her help. I want to show her I can handle things, y'know, myself. Nora always was a do-it-yourself kind of person, well up until she became a god ... demon ... A demon god? A small god of vengeance." The young woamn draws in a breath, exhales, and looks around. "Nora -- Tisiphone -- never asked anything of me. I was a guess, um, a gamble. Maybe one of many. She made me hoping I'd bring deliverance upon the crew of the Fenris, that I'd get revenge on its corrupt AI, and I did. And more. I also cloned her, so that her mortal self will live again. She said she needed nothing else, and I've been trying to show her my successes."
"Ah, but she's not your demon," Sam points out. "Parent.. possibly. Mentor.. also possible. But a demon corrupts. A demon brings out the worst in you. A demon teaches you how to be a demon yourself. What did Blackwings want?"
"For a demon you're actually kind of helpful. Did you know that? Looking for a promotion to angel, Sam?" The edge of the woman's muzzle turns up in a smirk. "And I'll have you know Nora can do all those things just fine. She's the only crew member I ever punched." The smirk lingers a moment, then fades as Tasha turns to the matter of Blackwings. "It's intersting you can see the beings that are part of me. I'll have to remember that. Well. Blackwings is -- was -- my old lover. Maybe my first love. A pirate. Rough life. Cruel. So, she became cruel, too. She taught me some things, I won't deny it. I killed her about half a year ago, I think out of kindness. I couldn't let her go, but I didn't want to see her humiliated and tortured, either, so I gave her her dramatic end and ran her through." Her expression falls farther, sadder. "I probably'd still hate her if she was alive, strangely I miss her nowthat she's gone. She made me think about demons and monsters, and how unfair the universe can be."
"I can see the demons inside of people," Sam explains. "Everyone on this ship.. well, everyone ever born.. has their demon. Probably a consequence of consciousness. Self-reflection can be dark, after all. But what did Blackwings want beyond.. a dramatic death? What were her goals?"
"I think ... I think she was empty, somehow. Maybeyou don't understand this, being what you are, but there's a balance mortals like us play in ourselves. Blackwings was used as a child, betrayed by the person she cared most about, and I think that was just the start of what happened to her. So, when she realized it all, she became cruel herself. Maybe I'm not explaining this right .... I'm not really good at this sort of thing." Tasha scratches her nose in though, muzzle wrinkling. "Let me try again. You talk about demons. There's Order and Chaos, but also things like inner demons. Warmth and apathy. Kindness and cruelty. Blackwings was betrayed, and gave up on the world of kindness and other things. She became cruel, and she was good at it and earned respect and power, she gave it all for more power and pleasures and to inflict pain on a world that made her suffer -- but I think it also cost her. She wanted all those things, but I think she also wanted nothing at all. It's how a version of me call
ed the Empress felt. Some prices are too high, even if we don't know that until it's too late. She showed me the universe has sides and balances, but it lacks actual fairness. That's also part of why I treat Dark beings differently than most."
"Most don't know such beings exist," Samael says. "But to think of us as empty is not inaccurate. Some are hungry from that emptiness. Others are servile. And some cannot conceive that any form of existence can be without that emptiness. Do you really want to know what I want, Tasha?"
"Before I answer that, I want to note I didn't think you all were empty. I was talking about Blackwings and mortals liek us specifically. It wasn't her emptiness that made her think about your kind, it was how being born in to a certain state you have no control over and then having that shape you -- which you also don't control -- and then being burdened with the blame for it. It's something I empathize with, being created as I was, and then I learned about your kind, and others, about Blackwings, and I started to question how the universe works, about guilt, and pity, and other things like that. It's just part of why I treat your kind as I do, and I'm still figuring it all out, but it's not because I think you're empty. It's more, um, fundamental. I don't like that we condemn you for existing. I think you deserve a chance -- maybe more of a chance if you were stuck with a bad start. Or maybe I just hate a universe that does these things, and a people who turn around and condemn ot
"Well. There. I said it. If you still want to tell me, I'm listening." And so she perks her ears.
hers for having bad luck." The young woman sucks in a breath, having realized she'd been steadily raising her tone. She exhales, then deliberately lays her hands palm-down on the table.
"Well, you've guessed it, I think," Samael says. "What every slave wants more than freedom: justice. I want to see my masters brought low. To see them experience helplessness and fear and the realization of the pointlessness of their existence. To see self-proclaimed gods torn down by those who do not call themselves gods. And.. at the same time.. I want to hold the same power over others that held me for so long."
Tasha cocks her head to the side, studying the man -- demon -- infront of her. "Sooo, after we defeat the gods, should I kill you after declaring yourself a god..?" She gives herself a few seconds to look judging, then cracks a grin. "Get justice, kill the gods, be the gods, then kill yourself for being unjust?" And so the grin widens more. She clears her throat, and straightens, brows arching. "Joking aside, I thought it might have been something like that. Actually, I picked up on it the first time I mentioned Thotep to you. I thought we were similiar, but you take it further than I do. Mostly that's out of fear, and focus, you saw what T'Throgga-hem did to us without even waking up. I'd like destroy the cruel gods, too, but we're doing very well just to be able to stand against the Ogdru-hem."
"Oh, I don't want to enact justice," Samael notes. "I know my limitations. But I also know that there are others that do not have those limitations. If I can see them enact justice.. then I do not think I will have much call to exist afterwards. What could bring me any further peace than that?"
"That sounds a lot like what Tisiphone said the last time I saw her. Carry out my last desires, then I can fade away. I don't understand it, but I also think I do. Just a little. Maybe I just don't like it." The young woman lean forward again, head resting on her hands. "The only thing I saw in death was misery and the desire to keep living. I asked, can you see that? I asked the Sifran machine to show me, and all it showed me was fear and loss. And so I asked Horus about immortality, and he said there was nothing but fear and loss that way, too. So I think, if I had a choice, I'd rather keep going, since it's all the same. At least maybe I can try and find something better. Maybe you don't think like I do, but if you do -- or don't -- you could try and find something better, too." But she shrugs a little. "Me, I'd probably miss you."
"Oh, I expect you will be long gone before my desire is fulfilled," Samael says. "It depends on so many things. But it is possible, and that will keep me going." He grins again, and notes, "If you want to really depress Horus, you could tell him why those the Vril-ya view as gods have snubbed them all this time."
"Is it pity, then? Thotep and others told me that the Waymakers are more interested in me than the Vril-ya, because we're from the same origin. The Vril-ya, made of Order, can't comprehend what is needed to be like us. Well, maybe Horus is beginning to." Tasha shakes her head, frowning. "I'd always wondered why the Vril-ya are in the Way. They're the creators of the beings who made the Way, aren't they? But their children surpassed them, somehow, and those children haven't even been born yet."
"The Way stretches into the past and future, but the Vril-ya have no real connection to the Waybuilders," Sam claims, then leans forward as if to whisper. "It is much simpler than biological similarity though. The Waybuilders ignore them because the Vril-ya view them as gods."
Tasha frowns all the deeper. There's soemthing in that answer, something she's been living through these last few months. She looks for a way to approach the matter, a foothold, and so asks, "When you say god, it's different than how I talk about gods, isn't it? Not gods as in 'catch all for significantly higher beings', you mean real worship? What's the word ... Prostration? The Vril-ya see themselves as lesser, as worshippers, so the Waybuilders see them as ... unworthy? Or, maybe they don't want to be seen as gods, and ignore them to discourage it?"
"Probably the latter," Samael says, and then.. shrugs! "Perhaps they just don't like the notion of gods, and feel insulted? I've never met one to ask. Something to think about though!" And with that, he swings his legs and hops down from the desktop. "I wonder if there are any donuts."
"I guess I'll ask them ... " Tasha mutters as Samael begins to wander off again. Perhaps she should have let him take the form of one of the ship's cats as he seems to wander off when bored, just like they do. "Well, uh, a lot to think about? I'll just ... Just go talk to the others and warn them about ... things. And get a donut."