The drone footage arrives while the gremlin detector data is still be analyzed. Through nearby lava tubes a route is found to one of the larger underground chambers that was seen on the deep radar scans. What's inside isn't natural looking, but also not artificial looking. There are no straight lines, the shapes made of spirals and shapes that the computer relates to mathematical formulas.
"This civilization was really into fractals," Gabriel asides to Tasha. "I don't know if we're looking at a city or an art installation." There's certainly no atmosphere, and no visible light. The pictures are still vivid though, fluorescing in different strange colors under the ultraviolet lamp of the drone.
"It could suggest a deep appreciation for mathmatics. This would be one of the entry-and-exit regions, so they might have wanted to convey that to visitors, those leaving the world, or like you said it could be artistic." Tasha, or at least the being that is going ahead with being Tasha for the time being, holds her tail in both hands and rubs her thumbs across it as she studies the display. "It could suggest aliens of the machine order, or at least a strong focus on AI, devices, and other similiar things. That would also be very important for a journey like this, as I can't think of how it could be done without extensive oversight and automation."
"The big pylons or whatever sticking out of the crust are smooth geometric shapes," Gabriel says, scratching at his cheek while he looks at the images. "Machines. They wouldn't care about transit time. This thing is accelerating very slowly, so unless you were close you wouldn't notice. Camouflage?"
"If they were fleeting something, they'd want to keep unnoticed. They could fear pursuit, which suggests an enemy that can threaten a vessel departing the galaxy, was capable of FTL and they weren't, or else didn't rely on locality to attack. They might have just wanted to depart subtly, or were in no hurry, and that could mean their goal is not time dependant." Frowning at the designs, then shifting to look at the display showing the pylons, Tasha points at the latter. "But reactionless drive technology suggests they could have gone faster if they had wanted to, unless their engines have demanding power draws that prohibit it, or they just didn't care about time. But, taking a whole, living world out like this seems unusual. Why use a whole world, and not a ship? It does seem like they wanted this world with them, and if they are being sneaky, then it does seem to suggest camoflage."
"And the type of camoflage that would work against their enemy, or at least the builders would have thought so, or why make it?" Tasha adds after a moment more of thought.
The drone feed has a running sidebar of chemical elements that it is identifying. It flashes to indicate the detection of organic compounds down in the fractal cavern.
"No seems detected on those giant structures either," Katie notes from the science station. "So solid masses, or very very good machining."
"Organics, so either leftovers, or else byproducts? And," the red woman licks her lips, pointing then to the screen displaying the interior shot, "Why bring along a whole world if you don't want to? They can very clearly build precise, powerful machined structures," the pointing finger switches back to the first image, " ... so why bring along all this unnecessary mass? It would have been more efficenct to build the whole vessel out of recycleables, anything and everything being useful for use and re-use. Even a planet could have lost some of its details and a lot of mass. This looks intentional. They either wanted this world or wanted to look like a world. That it used to be alive seems like a strong vote towards wanted the world, or else it was what was available at the time, which sounds like another vote towards fleeing."
"I vote for hiding," Yue offers. "There are lots of rogue planets. It's a natural phenomenon. Nobody's ever tried to catch up to one though, that I'm aware of. The technologies for relativistic flight are pretty power hungry after all. Now, that doesn't mean there was anybody living on this thing. It could be an ark of some sort, maybe meant to come back into the galaxy at some point. What's the organic matter?"
Drone does home in on the source, and finds a desiccated body halfway merged into one of the fractal structures. It looks a bit like the creature recovered from the Abaddon libration point, and then shipped off to the Terrans.
"That makes sense, too." Tasha drops in to the console's chair and wraps her tail around the base, wings mantling, head prompted on her arm, which rests on her knee. "Oh," she exclaims upon seeing the body, " ... it's one of those ... frog? ... people. I've seen one of their ships before." She then glances towards Yue and Gabriel, "Well, that does suggest their enemy is the most obvious one? Dr. Amuntaton seems to agree. Did you hear what he said? About the escape not helping? I've always suspected that enemy doesn't care about locality."
"A backup plan perhaps," Gabriel says, and narrows his eyes. "It doesn't look like a natural death though. Setting the drone to search for more bodies."
More bodies are found, also embedded in the fractal structures. And then the drone finds the pit. There bodies are just lying in high mounds.
"It's very similiar to the deaths found in the old battle fleet and the way the system on Phrax worked, through absorption. They may have had a Outsider Patron that provided them the technolo--" Tasha pauses at the sight of the pit, leaning back, tail clucnhing the chair body tighter and wings spreading, "That looks- that looks intentional. The absorption could have been corruption of their AI or other systems, but this looks like something just dumped them here. Maybe whatever happened didn't happen quickly and they had to mount some kind of emergency cleanup?"
"If this is typical of all the cavern pockets we found, there could be millions of these pits," Katie notes. "But, if they all succumbed to the same thing the other First Ones did, all at once, who filled the pits? The machine order was supposed to be affected too after all."
"Someone was left behind," Tasha remarks, eyes widening. "This happened, then someone or something tried to do something about it. It could have been a non-sentient system, or something immune or ignored by what destroyed the First Ones."
Samael quietly moves up between Tasha and Gabrie's command seats, and recites, "In a dream I found a place, Of rotting meat and eldritch grace. And looked upon its primordial face, And from my thoughts could not erase, That sense of time that sense of space, And my heart the darkness did embrace."
"Have you ever tried not being creepy?" Katie critiques.
Tasha pokes Samael in the butt. "I have enough eldritch beings being vague at me as it is." She then gestures towards the screen and the alien world, "Do you know this place?"
"I see the patterns," Samael says. "You wonder why they would take a world with them. An assumption is implicit in that question: the world had value to them. But, perhaps it is the other way around."
"Something in the world, then? An overseer, and these were it's, what, people? Minions? Slaves?" Tasha turns to study the spirals again, finding them oddly familiar. Did she see them back on Praxxafalopus? Or, were they like those back on Sinai? And if they're like the former, does that suggest one of the strange 'Wizard' beings remains within?
"The 'engines' do not match the aesthetic, so my conclusion is that they are foreign, as are the humanoids," Samael says. "Nothing in this structure appears meant for them. So: they are related to the engines, but not to the world. Engineers, crew.. people brought in to meet the need for this world to leave the galaxy."
"Contractors?" Yue asks, sounding skeptical.
"Or worshipers," the demon suggests.
"Worshippers seems more accurate. A machine simply interested in departure wouldn't leave bodies half-merged in walls and in piles. If it had to destroy its contractors, it probably would have recycled, buried, or discarded them by now, depending on its beliefs. Its mainly beings of Samael's ilk that like to leave suffering around as its own purpose," Tasha notes, pointing again to the body pile. "And the being within may have used their, um, essence in other ways, but even so, if it had the, uh, addition of the others, it'd be going a long time without it new ... resources."
"This world is effectively dead though," Katie claims. "The only heat sources are those surface pillars, and even those are barely above the ambient temperature of space in this region. But if this was some sort of planetary cathedral, does it have to have been literally alive? How many of those 'wizards' where there supposed to be?"
Aaron says, "Four. Fessus is gone now," Samael notes. "Leaving Uscias, Esrus and Semias, and their cities of knowledge.""
Tasha snaps her fingers, a decidedly Human gesture. "I knew I saw those spirals before, they were present in that temple where Fessus was. That system also absorbed beings in to it, converting them in to some kind of data, or else feeding it. Four is the number I remember, too. Well, one way to find out."
Tasha turns to Kathrine and considers her for a moment before asking, "Do you want to say 'hello' to the ancient people-eating geometric shape, or shall I?"
"Well.. we have to consider our position," Gabriel points out. "We are hiding from extra-universal whatnots, on a planet that might eat people. We need to be cautious. Praxafallopus didn't have any signs of digital cognizance either, but the whole surface was artificial and could rearrange itself. If this canyon closes up on us, it would be bad."
"That would be bad," Tasha agrees, leaning back and nodding. She wonders if he repeated incarnations and death have made her less observant of the dangers associated with mortality, or if it's something else. "I'd be surprised it didn't know we were here already, even passive detection should ahve noticed us by now, and a Wizard is a hybrid entity created from this and Shadow-reality. Our presence should be something it knows very well, maybe it's worried about what we'll do."
"Fessus turned against Thotep," Samael notes. "The others may have gone into hiding or attempted to flee out of fear of retaliation. And now you're here with both me and Thoth. A confusing mix, to be certain, and there's no telling if it could detect Hastur's marker as well. More to the point, the destruction of Lukthu-hem and the surrounding spacetime would have been hard to miss."
"And if it could communicate with Fessus, it may have noticed that Fessus left this reality very suddenly in galactic-scale time," Tasha adds, nodding slowly. "Well, we really throw a wrench in to things, don't we? Well, if I were it, I'd be shaking in my spooky wizard chamber. And, if it were me, I'd be looking for reassurance. It might be better to offer it that before it decides to take action on its own. I don't know if beings like a Wizard panic, but panic could kill us, too."
"There is no secret wizard handshake that I can offer you," Samael says. "You are on your own when it comes to composing the message."
"There are lot of standard greetings in the old Galactic languages," Yue offers. "They're part of all com packages nowadays."
"May as well get it done now, waiting will only make all of us anxious." Tasha kicks her chairm which rotates in one complete circle nefore she stops it facing Katherine. "I think a standard message will just confuse it more. It may not have been in the galaxy since the age of the First Ones. We'll still need a language it will recognize, so anything First Ones era, or else something mathmatical it can put together itself."
"Machine language then?" Yue suggests. "It's slow, but clear. What would you want to say?"
"Fessus says hello?" Katie suggests jokingly.
"Vessel to world mind. Wizard. We know. Contact unexpected, concidental. Negotiation offered. Return contact." The red woman rubs her chin. "It's to the point, it doesn't make us look weak, and it tells it that we didn't come here for it specifically. It knows what happened in the Halo, and it may be aware of what happens when the ancient super weapons are used. This should be a situation that makes sense to it."
"Encoding it," Yue says. Sending the message is silent, as is the non-response. Minutes go by..
"Probably should have mentioned the gremlins," Samael finally offers.
"I thought it might already expect them, or have detected them," Tasha admits, gesturing at the screen. "They're Wizards, knowing things is their schtick. We can add that." She turns, nodding to Katherine. "Reality damage. Intruders. Pursuit. Cause of contact."
This time there is a reply after a few awkwardly silent minutes. Just two words after translation: "Servitors. Explain."
"Um," Tasha glances at Samael, then off towards where Thoth was when she last saw him, "How about ... servants? Yes, servants will do, it'll understand that. So, like this," looking back, she leans in and smiles, "Servants of speaker. Information sources. Weapon component." She nods, dropping back in to her chair. "There. This way they're under my control, but now it also knows we're wielding a super weapon. It will know what that weapon can do, and it will have seen what became of Luk'thu-hem's position."
The reply that eventually comes back says a bit about just how perceptive the source is. "Speaker is servitor."
Tasha spreads her hands. "I hope it doesn't want to play cards next." She begins twirling around in her chair again, muzzle pursing. "So it can observe us and can probably hear this conversation. Which means we don't need to send more to it and it already heard our plans. It also now knows we're not here to fight with it, but that the last time one of its kind took a shot at us, Mr. Yellow ate it for me. So while it probably isn't impressed by me it knows attacking me would cause it problems, maybe even end its existence. It will want us to go away, even if we don't impress it, but it can't just say that, of course now it knows I know. And it's right. We, one way or another, destroyed fessus, Luk'th-hem, and Urgo-hem. So how about this, it gets rid of the creatures pursuing us by using its drive system, or other effective tactic, maybe we share information, and then we go away. It probably also knows that while I am 'just' a servitor, I do have a hand in whether an attack could happen or not."
"We can't actually attack it," Samael points out. "This is a planet, not an Ogdru-hem. The Dagger is only of use against Ogdru-hem. And in order to attack it, we would need to expose ourselves to the 'gremlins' for a prolonged period."
"What would we want to ask it?" Gabriel asks.
"Well I didn't attack Fessus either. Someone else did, because I asked," Tasha notes. She continues to spin, ears laying back. "And who knows how that works. I don't want to owe anyone any more fvaors than I have to, though, so I won't do that unless I have to. Also, our destruction would cost the Dagger, several servitors, and it wouldn't hide the Wizard's location because it's probably now already known. Maybe I could ask Mr. Y if he wants to protect the Wizard? Maybe it'd like that?"
"Oh, well, we have a lot of questions. Where are the great First one library worlds, where are the other Ogdru-hem. Why is it when I want to rest I find one of four Wizards in the middle of nowhere, which can't be a coincidence. That sort of thing. It is a big library. It could know where the Star Seeds are or what happened to the Celestial Empire home world. What's a library without learning something?" Tasha spreads her hands; it is what it is.
"City of Knowledge does imply actual knowledge," Katie agrees.
"That's a lot to put into a message, even if it already knows the question," Yue says. "Formalities must be observed. Just what did these wizards teach, anyway?"
"How to become gods," Samael claims with a straight face.
Amuntaten has wandered over now as well.
"Oh, lets ask that, too. I want to hear this one," Tasha says, still spinning, but her ears are up now. "And hi, Thoth." She waves when her rotation angles her towards the demigod. "Wouldn't the answer be ... " spin, " ... something very ... " spin, " .. interetsing to know?" Wink. Spin.
"There are four paths which must be taken, I believe," Thoth notes. "And it is all an elaborate joke by Thotep, I suspect. It is not an answer."
"He does seem like the type to build up the hopes of the powerful and dedicated only to ruin them," Tasha admits, still spinning, and having picked up some speed. She smells anxious, and she's clearly fidgeting, even her tail has begun lashing at the tip. "And servitor. I thought I'd be done being a servitor by now. Maybe I am, I just haven't filed my walking papers yet? Who knows, maybe I'm not even Tasha, then who do I serve?" The chair halts abruptly, and Tasha leans in towards Katherine with anger flashing in her eyes. "Tell that obnoxious floating shape I don't care what it does, or thinks. We'll leave when the gremlins are gone. Until then, we can't. The longer we're here the more likely something will notice us all. Us all. I don't care if it lives, dies, or flies in to a sun, but I'd like to go back to laying down."
"The.. the planet or Sam?" Katie asks, a bit surprised by the sudden change in mood.
"Sam, the planet, whatever. I just finished murdering Luk'thu-hem and I didn't want to have to deal with some scared small-fry slowboating its way to nowhere, and definitely not gremlins. Do you hear me over there, which-ever Wizard you are? I don't care about formalities. Just. Do. Something. Or, I'm going to ask Mr. H to tell Mr. Goat where you are." And so she throws up her hands, stands up, and walks aft of the deck. "If we're not saved and gone in an hour I'm going to go down there, find that thing and stuff it down a black hole myself, if the big bosses won't."
Everyone gets out of Tasha's way as she storms through. And nobody along the way tries to stop her on the way to her room.
Once in her room, Tasha orders her door locked, drops face down on her bed, and pulls a pillow right over her head. She doesn't even bother to undress. There she simmers, heart racing, mind racing, the lightning-tingle of barely constrained anxiety dancing across her arms. If she had still been Human, she'd be in a cold sweat.
Someone actually knocks on the door, instead of trying to use the intercom.
There's no answer, of course. This is partially because Tasha can't seem to clear her throat enough to talk, the strain and the battle not to break down completely causing her throat to lock up. The rest is stubbornness.
The knocker keeps knocking. Knock knock knock. But not in a constant rhythm, which makes it harder to ignore.
"FINE," yells Tasha, who rolls over and hurls the pillow at the door. As a pillow is not an authorized biometric signature, and neither is glaring, she eventually yells, "Open," as well.
The door opens, and a familiar long-eared companion enters. "How do you make the door close again?" Aaron asks once he's on the side he wants to be on.
"I knew it'd be you. Two alphas, a god, a demon, and you're the only one who dared." Tasha pushes off the bed, grabs her pillow, then promptly walks back to her bed and resumes layind down face first. "Door close." And so it does.
"Yeah, everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around you right now," Aaron says, and climbs onto the bed and tries to sit down cross-legged. It takes him a bit to manage it though. "And since you didn't bring Eadwig along I'm probably the only person who understands you aren't made of glass."
"I feel like I'm made of glass," Tasha mutters from under the pillow. Whatever impulse to break down was there has faded, partially because she feels her personal defenses coming back up, and partially because Aaron has already seen her like this on numerous occassions. She can break down around him without worry, and his presence is comforting, even if she won't admit it openly. "Everyone treats me like a child anyway, except when they need me to negotiate with and fight gods. Then everyone steps back. I can't do anything on the ship without someone doing it for me. Why is that Wizard even here? Do you know how huge space is? Why now." She recognizes she's rambling, but Aaron's heard that before, too.
"How much does the answer really matter?" the Lapi asks, one ear perked while other flops down. "And would knowing make you feel any better? Would you feel better knowing it was all some grand manipulation by a weird god with a Rugh'rat's face and there's nothing you could have done, or would you feel better knowing that you really are on your own with what you have and weird stuff happens for no reason at all?"
"It doesn't matter, because I know enough to know it could be either. I'm used to it all by now. I'm just complaining because I don't want to deal with it right now. And what good am I, if I can't deal with these things? I thought everything would be better once Persephone was gone and we were coming back. I would be better. Now I'm more afraid than I've ever been. I don't want to deal with this. And Mr. H isn't going to let me go, is he? He's probably enjoying watching me melt down." Tasha flails her tail around until she grabs another pillow, pulling both so she can pull the first around and lay her muzzle between them, still face down, but at least comfortable. What she doesn't do is mention she's not even sure who she is, because if she's not Tasha, then she's also alone. Yet if she isn't Tasha, the hooks in her soul fall away. Freedom and loneliness, or servitude. How did she ever think she could start a legacy like this? She remembers herself, or Tasha, charging ahead recklessly again and again, wondering if she had been running from these questions all this time, throwing herself in to her work to find meaning, purpose, respect. But now ...
"There's a third option that maybe does matter though," Aaron offers. "You are someone who other people aim at problems because they trust you to get things done. Maybe Nora-Prime or Tisiphone or whoever set you in motion, but it was you who took the steps toward things. You decided to be someone with more purpose. And yes, it gets overwhelming. That's true for everyone. At least, everyone I've ever met. I've had plenty of moments curled up in a hollow tree trunk or hiding in a hole questioning every decision I ever made, and every decision others have made for me, and in the end it all comes down to what you decide to do right then, in that situation. So, if I were to make your next decision for you, it would be to take a bath."
"Fine," Tasha says again, but with less heat. She pulls herself up off the bed as she she had half the bones she ought to, toss the pillows on the bed, then pulls off her coat and begins to strip as she walks towards the bathroom. "If I'm so great with problems, why does everyone treat me like they do?" It's not her real concern, but it's something that has bothered her, and it's far enough away from her real concern to be 'safe' to rant about.
Aaron follows, at least to the door. "Because people never know how to treat other people," he claims. "People are full of contradictions. They can be really good at one particular thing, maybe, but mediocre or useless at other things. Maybe we all have a limited amount of talent or whatever, and have to allocate it as best we can. So you can spread it all out and be average. Or put more of it into one particular thing at the expense of having less to go around for everything else. What do I know, I collect weird things and grind them up into medicines or things that other weird people need. To me, life is a lot of moments of panic, far too much prolonged stress, a few bits of peace and lots of wondering what the hell I'm doing. I don't know that it's that different for anyone. I look back on some of that stuff and wonder who the idiot was in control of my body. But oh yeah, it was me. Hindsight makes us all idiots."
"So everyone's an idiot." It's not exactly what she took away from the speech, but it feels good to say it, so she does. Once undressed Tasha turns on the water, climbs the steps, and slips in to her tub. After dunking her head once she settles in, calm in body if not in mind, and the dunk is enough to hide tears that had begun to form before Aaron had arrived. "Maybe they shouldn't follow me anymore," she says after a long moment of silence, stepping closer to the heart of her concerns, "I'm not sure why anyone would. I don't even know if I can do it anymore. Maybe, all I had was doing it. If I wasn't going on, and on, then what did I have? It's all I'm good at, all that keeps me above being nobody, again. But now? Now I'm afraid. I thought being able to have children would make me happy, but now I want to keep going, but I'm afraid to lose. Afraid in ways I've never felt before. And look at me, I went and died. If, if I can't even keep with the people I love, what am I going to do?" For her children, for her future, do means a lot of things in that moment.
"First off, don't worry about why the others are here," Aaron advises. "You may feel responsible, like they came because of you, but all of them had their own very personal reasons. I was running from a broken heart. Katie was obviously feeling underused and over-managed. Hakeber is quite frankly terrified of everything. Gabriel is trying to redeem himself. Lacci doesn't want to just study the history of other people doing things. Shojo felt hopeless and wanted to accomplish something before his disease kills him. Liza wanted a daughter. Yue lives for this sort of crap."
"Your doctor is clearly a criminal hiding out from other criminals," the buck adds.
"What a weird bunch," Tasha sighs, feeling herself begin to melt as the water heats up to just-hot-enough-not-to-hurt level. "I always thought Jonas might be a spy, but if he's just a criminal, that's just fine with me. Ordinary criminals seem to comforting, now. Quaint. Gabriel would say 'quaint'." She exhales, long and hard, then reaches over to grab a face towel and use it for what it was made for, rubbing her face. It's the face rubbing that reminds her again that she's avoiding the issue, that it's really about her face, or at least partly. Her face, and the person who owned a face rather like it, not so long ago. Realizing she'll never say it if she doesn't now, she blurts out, "Am I Tasha, Aaron?" in the same banal tone as if asked him to fetch the soap.
"Sure," Aaron says. "Remember being dazzled by a bronze breastplate? Feeling small surrounded by bunnies? Trying too hard to beat a training simulation you had no background or training for? Our torrid love affair?"
"Ha ha," goes Tasha, who considers throwing the soap but then she'd not have any soap, and her soap is wonderful because it smells like something Terran named a lilac. She knows it's a plant, vaguely what it looks like, but has never been around one in her life. "I remember those things," she admits a moment later, lathering up her face, " ... but I also remember being a Human woman who remembered those, too. And she thought she was Tasha. But she wasn't. I know. And I think she knew that, too. Even if she would have kept being Tasha." Her head shakes before she dips it in the water. "She was missing parts of what made Tasha. That's why she agreed, in the end. She wanted to be complete, even if she didn't know what she was misssing. But she could have been a being, all by herself. She didn't need the rest, but she didn't wan to let the memory of Tasha fade away, and she wanted to know what she could become. And now I thought I was Tasha, too. Complete. Perfected. But the voice asks me if that's really so, it says my soul is different. So maybe I'm not Tasha either, because Tasha wasn't perfected, and I don't know what I need to be missing."
"You can't be perfected, nobody can," Aaron claims. "You'll always be seeking something. And when you find it, you'll look for something new. Because being perfect means never changing. Never getting better, or learning, or any of things that technically mean being alive. So, another voice that isn't yours. Something that came from your 'integration' so you weren't full of ghosts or whatever?"
"Somewhere," Tasha agrees, spreading her hands, soap in one and face towel in the other. The scent of lilac wafts from the bathroom. "So, okay, I'm not perfect, I know that, I meant bodily. I haven't even been with anyone since we left, I keep telling them because I want Jonas to scan me again, but I think they know and we just keep pretending no one's the wiser." She lifts a leg and places it on the bath edge, peering at the longness of of, the strange cloven hooves. Did that porcine animal have cloven hooves, she wonders. She wishes, in hindsight, she'd had a better look at the animals that made her what she's become. She exhales. "But, yes, a new one. I don't recognize it. It also wanted me to feed it, but didn't say what. It's not any voice I know, and it's probably not Mr. Yellow either. It's not his style."
"So, what went into the cake batter?" Aaron asks. "There's Tasha, Nora, Captain.. uh.. Bitchwings.. and demonic mushroom from the Faceless Ones pit-god. Anything else?"
Tasha snorts a laugh. Bitchwings. She suspects she'll hear about that later from her new internal secretary, but it's worth it. "Well," she says after a moment, " ... there are the animals. The bird, the ... boar-thing, and the white wolf. I think there were connections, but I think the connections were attached to the spore, or else my soul, and my soul was ... In my Human body? But not complete. My broken soul was. The Marker didn't appear at all, except where the ... biggest? Sentient? Part of my souls was. It didn't sound like Nora, because Nora sounds like Nora, and Blackwings appears as herself. Unless the anials talk now, that'd leave the connections, and Tatha-hem's voice is very different. I very much doubt she understands me enough to say what was said, she has great difficulty with mortal things. You know, I don't think anyone talked to her like I do, before?" Tasha's brows arch as she reaches to soap up her leg. "So, maybe the spore is talking?"
"Okay, mushroom is the first suspect," Aaron says and nods. "Maybe integrating it further meant it gained something from you. Other options.. hmm. Something Persephone installed and didn't tell you. She doesn't seem the type but what do I know. Something you picked up in the cosmic graveyard. A gremlin. Or a piece of Lickety-split-ham that got stuck in you when she bit you in half. Or it's an imaginary friend and Jonas can give you a pill that makes it go away."
The Lapi then leans in and whispers, "Or it really was the cat. I don't trust them. They look like they're plotting something. I was almost right about the Savanites plotting something you know."
The buck hasn't completely shaken his conspiracy-based paranoia it seems.
"It's like I have a collection," Tasha says with some distaste. She dumps her left leg in to the water and switches to the right. "Persephone's a Class 5 Civ Transcendant, even being biological, we were only ever talking to a very small part of her mind. I've thought about them a lot, and I think besides needing terminals to interact with beings, they also get to experience mortal reality and existence through their avatars. It's really interesting; I wish I had been more coherent and more respectful, but then I think I wasn't ready for what she could teach me. I'd had enough, for a while, anyway." She then glances back, ears perking. "So you think it might be Creamsicle? They're not sentient, but then who knows, maybe the entire Old Ones civilization is actually hiding in them, that's how it goes with my life. I don't think I'm even surprised anymore. It's alarming. Sometimes I miss being surprised and afraid of these ideas." Her head shakes. "Or a gremlin. One that beat the others out. A talkative one. And I'm not sure why Persephone would want to make me doubt myself when she just fixed me." Her head cocks to the side then, and her hand freezes. "Persephone? "Keep feeding me," "Gods are never satisfied." The way it talked, I know they can sound like whatever they want, but the way it talked sounded closer to Charon."
"He like to chew on things," Aaron agrees, eyeing Tasha's leg with a thoughtful expression. "But.. uh.. hmm. Shouldn't there be more of a mess? Do you have any urges to pull everything out of your drawers or chew on books or take your pillow in your teeth and just thrash your head around until it explodes? What are space-pillows made of though?"
"'Proprietary material K438 foamed gel,' I read that in a log somewhere. I think they're Khattan made." Tasha shrugs her shoulders and resumes soaping up. "No urges to bite things, or spread my clothes around. But, that was just one Charon remote. There's supposed to be others, and Charon's main conciousness moves faster than light. We shouldn't assume we understand them, they're the highest order of organic life I know of, far beyond anything else." She glances back now. "But, no, maybe not Charon. I think his mother might be cross if he sneaked off with me, that could cause the others to notice our universe."
"So.. did it sound like the mushroom might?" Aaron asks. "Was it cynical sounding? I figured mushrooms would be more sarcastic. But it's a not really a mushroom."
"The Source had been stuck in a reality-hole for who-know-how-long. It's not happy about it, and it's somehow been reduced from what it is to something more like beings of this universe. It's an old Sifran experiment, though I don't know why it was there in that mountain. Who knows why the Sifra do anything." Tasha finishes her leg and drops that, picking the long scrub brush off the rack and starting on her back. "I can believe the spore would be cynical. The Source said regular beings couldn't contain its power, that the spore was all it could do. This was back when I offered to help it escape, because it's, well, it's like my friend? It never hurt me and I don't think it's a danger any morem so why not? It's sad being stuck in that prison. So, maybe I can contain it, and the spore has grown. Or it's now alive somehow. Spores usually transform their hosts, usually when they die, but that didn't happen."
"So instead of growing on you maybe you grew on it instead?" Aaron says, doing a 'spooky voice' and wiggling his fingers at Tasha. "I did not think this through. I didn't realize you'd be using soap."
"I've really come a long way, huh," Tasha deadpands, looking back and sticking her tongue out. "Soap and a fancy bathroom, 'i's no' li' me a'tol." She then makes a drinking from a mug gesture, then suds up her brush before scrubbing her back. "There's actually an automated system in this bathroom to do all of this for me, but I assumed you wnated me to sit and relax, and it's nice to do this myself sometimes. And you've seen me like this a lot of times, don't tell me now you can't handle it. Now that there's soap." She wiggles her fingers, the magic of soap. "And so maybe I grew on my spore. I'm not sure why it would have insights in to life, but then my dead lover is its secretary, so what do I know?"
"It's all Katie's fault, with that tie-you-to-a-tree stunt," Aaron complains. "Your boobs felt completely different. And you've got new ones now." The buck hugs himself. "I'm glad I didn't get into the water with you."
"I think this trip would be very awkward if you were the one to get me pregnant first," Tasha agrees, but she turns back to waggle her eyebrows, then blow Aaron a kiss. It looks like it's her turn to tease. "And how about Katie. She acts very civilized, but take her away and she's suddenly wants to chew on poor Human me. I think she's both afraid of letting go, and really wants to let go. I should have Bumper kidnap her, she'd like the vacation. But wow, whatever it is, it's great." She chews on her lip, unable to quite look at Aaron for a moment, then muffles what's clearly a giggle before clearing her throat.
"I couldn't break Gabriel's heart like that," Aaron claims. "And I wouldn't like to think about what of mine Liza would break. And yes, Katie is a bundle of repression. Hakeber's hedonism is an escape. Yue is wild in bed. My main role on this voyage is making coffee and trying to keep people sane. Bu I know that I'm crazy. Probably why the two of us get along so well. You don't smell like a wet Jupani anymore. Maybe that's the soap. Wet Lapi still look disturbing though, so at least that's a constant. Sam is probably talking to the planet or whatever. We may be hiding in a hole, but it's hiding in the same hole and we both have reasons that aren't mutually exclusive, so I'm not going to worry about it."
"Now you're rambling. That's a first. You better get out of here before you and Liza ruin my bed or something." Tasha looks back, putting the soap and brush aside so she can roll over and lay her head on the tub edge, facing Aaron. "I'll be fine by myself fro a little while. You always seem to know how to undermine my breakdowns. I should probably get back up there and handle things before we get crushed or the planet flies off in a huff or what-not, but I'm going to finish my bath first, at least. I'm sure the world will be fine without me for a little while."
With Aaron departed, Tasha busies herself with the task in hand. While she's outwardly quiet, her mental landscape is abuzz with questions and concerns, most from what was just dicussed and a few new entries. She wonders about who -- and what, which turns out to be a very similiar question -- she is now, and what that means for her. Looking at herself in the wall-length mirror, she finds herself strange, yet familiar. An exotic, interpretational rendition of what she had been, emphasizing certain aspects while downplaying others. Of particular note is how much more harmless she thinks she looks, less rough-edged and stocky. More fragile, delicate, and as Hakeber likes to say, fae. And then there's that star on her forehead, or black sun, the spore -- she still isn't sure what to make of it.
There's also the odor. She just doesn't smell like a wet canine anymore, or like a wet Vartan, but somewhere in-between. It may be the most subconsciously disturbing change. Scent is pretty personal for a Karnor, after all. It's possible that her moods smell different now. Was Gabriel or the others able to even pick up on her growing frustration?
Tasha doubts it, but then she wonders if it shouldn't have been obvious. She is, after all, juggling a kind of guerilla war against the ancient and ineffible, supported by the equally unknowable, many of whom want to control and own her. It should frusterate anyone, and then to top it all off she died, reincarnated twice, and before she could so much as spend some time alone figure herself out she had to fire a soul-eating superweapon, be chased by beings from another universe, and then had to deal with a entire world that may well be worried about much the same things she is including being concerned by each other. And all the way down, plots, politics, and control. She's sick of being manipulated and controlled, which is perhaps why she enjoyed Charon's straightforwardness so much. The treats on life, limb, and sanity certainly don't help, either.
The outer door chimes, so clearly it's someone who knows how to use the intercom. "Do you need anything, Tasha?" Liza asks over the intercom.
"I'm fine, Liza," Tasha says, the automatic response familiar even if the muzzle speaking it is still new to her. She watches herself speak with mixed feelings. She knows that's her body, and as bodies go it's certainly better than her old one, but sometimes seeing her reflection feels to her like being a ghost watching a stranger talk. This happened with her Human incarnation as well, but unlike the Human this body is supposedly her new, complete self. Complete, and more. Unified. She never knew being all she is could seem so foreign; she finds it a strange contradiction.
After a moment of silence, the intercom asks, "Are you sure? You don't want a bath massage or some tea?"
"Bath's done," is the distracted reply. "Not thirsty. Thank you." This is another thing that annoys Tasha, though it's not specific to this body: the being treated like a fragile child. Made of glass, like Aaron said. Except this time, she suspects she's partly to blame for it happening. To deal with the stress of her life she's let the others take care of her, coddle her, and played up to that image. She wasn't trying to cultivate their reaction, not exactly, but likewise she didn't make any effort to stop herself and tended to go along with the urge. And so, in time, part of her personal resilience and self-sufficency was lost.
"You aren't going to seduce my soon to be husband are you?" the intercom asks, in a bit of a departure from the previous questions. "I know you're his type, but we come as a pair now."
"You know the answer to that Liza, you're just trying to engage me and turn me away from my self-reflecting and anxiety," goes Tasha, who normally might have been playful with the question but whom finds herself to not be in the mood. Not upset, either, but she has serious questions about herself and her future, she doesn't want to be distracted, and she certainly doesn't want others pushing her one way or the other. How, then, could she know what she wants?
"We're going to be leaving the planet soon," Liza says next.
Tasha considers this for a moment, then exhales, dropping her butt down on her large square tub's edge. They handled it without her. They handled it without her. She's not sure what to think about that, there's a lot of weight there, all scross her mind, but in the short term she just feels relief. She doesn't have to deal with it, and can deal with herself instead. "Alright, Liza. Keep me informed."
"How informed do you want to be?" Liza asks back.
"Moderate to serious threats only, and only if I'm needed to deal with them." That sounds suitably responsible and evasive, Tasha decides. She drops her head in to a towel and rub-rub-rubs the water away, while also tending to her ruff. Her ruff. She isn't sure how she ended up with a ruff, she's sure she didn't ask anyone for one or lament the lack of a ruff, but here it is none-the-less. She wonders what having a ruff adds or subtracts from her new existence, how it might subtly change who she is.
"Alright," Liza says. "Do you want me to relay anything to the bridge?"
"No, I'm sure they're busy enough." It's a little petty, but then shouldn't they have noticed she was falling apart without notification? Shouldn't anyone have noticed, by now? She supposes she could have stopped, except she really can't now, and even if she could all that she has might disappear without her effort and drive to keep the mission going.
"Please call if you need anything," Liza says, before the intercom clicks to let Tasha know it's been turned off.
And so she's alone again. With all the powerful minds, deities, elite and lesser sentients arpund her, being alone feels defeaning in its silence. No pressure, no need to conform, no need to negotiate -- be it between or with powers of interpersonal affairs. It's just her, whatever she is now. She sits there staring at her reflection for what feels like, and may be, hours. That strange fae creature, big eyes, ruff all which way, familiar wings and unfamiliar hooves. The star, on her forehead. The one that sees things, subtle things. And whatever else is there, below the skin and in her soul.
Somewhere down in there is Blackwings. Or what Blackwings became.. so it's really still Tasha. But she still feels separate from her former role model. And no more intertwined with Nora than she had been before. The creature in the mirror isn't saying anything, but seems like it could.
Tasha leans in, and so the creature does, too. Well, you? Not going to say anything for yourself? We just stormed off the CiC and scared everyone, made a mess of things. I know it's my fault, but it's your fault, too. Or maybe it's not our fault? Should we think it is? Or not? or pretend it is? Isn't making a once-dead and twice-reincarnated woman deal with all things too much? Even Horus broke down eventually. I think Thoth has many times. Just listen to him! She squints, and the fae creature squints back. Anything? Looking tough doesn't work, you know, you look a little like a children's fairy tale combined with an adult fairy tale. Like you should be haunting some woods somewhere, not staring at me on a space ship.
A tall tower or castle would be better, the mirror-Tasha seems to think.
It says a lot about her life that Tasha, and thus her reflection, merely blinks at the reply and then falls in to going along with it because, really, it's how her life goes these days. Why do you say that? Or should I think of you as the imperious type? She turns her head, and so the mirror, studying the being in the mirror. I suppose the star and the ruff add a certain regal quality. It's hard to be regal naked. How do you justify the eye? They're so wide, they make you look younger.
And Tasha then gets a flash of something. Standing on a balcony without railing. She's looking out at an ocean, and is so high up that she can see an actual curve to the horizon.
I like the view, Tasha thinks of the scene, but she tuts; her reflection, too, But I noticed you evaded my question, somewhat. Everyone else may think I fall for that sort of thing, but msot of the time? I'm playing along because it makes -- made -- me happy to do it, to seem a little brainless, because then I could stop thinking. So, you probably know this, but I'm a little mad at you for trying to do it to me when you should know better. Still, the view is nice, and it would be nice to see a living, familiar world, even if the familiarity is simply of a kind. The sky, the curve of a planet. A breeze. the air is probably a little thin, at that altitude.
The vision doesn't last long enough to really feel anything, but during the flash it felt much different than she feels now. Dryads haunt woods, the reflection seems to note.
Dryads, those are ... It takes Tasha only a moment, a normal moment of recollection, to recall Nora's understanding of dryads, ... the Terrans thought of them as forest-spirits. Plant-people. You're not exactly a plant-person, and neither am I, so what sort of being haunts a castle in the sky? Other than the usual, and here Tasha, and her reflection, gesture behind them at the distant exit, indicating the various gods and demons somewhere beyond. They do love their stonework.
We don't haunt things, the reflection insists. A hint of disapproval at the notion as well, perhaps. It's hard to sense inflection in a voice that isn't a voice after all.
I suppose other things haunt us, don't they. We don't haunt them. It makes sense, she can't recall ever having haunted everyone, except those few days as a Human and she wasn't exactly a ghost nor was she going out of her way to act in a haunting manner. So what do we do, then?
The reflection doesn't seem to have a ready answer to that. What do you want to do? is the eventual apparent reply.
Up to me again, is it? All these great beings, and they look to me to follow around. You would think elites would have a better sense of self-direction. The red woman leans back, brushing her hair from her face. Opposite, her reflection does as well, makiing her seem to be casually preparing to listen. Right now I want to rest. I know we need to see to Hakeber, that's important, and Hastur will be breathing down our collective neck until we do it even if Hakeber wasn't in danger, but I'd really just like to rest a while. There's that world, maybe we can get our castle in the sky there, in the trees. Or the space station. Think about how to approach Daltuna Station, opposite House Khomen. Or we can leave that to the others and rest, they should be better suited to going up against modern Galactic than I.
I'm not good at making decisions, Tasha's reflection claims. That isn't my role.
What is your role? Tasha inquires, brows up, which makes her reflection seem surprised by the question. Because sometimes I am, so you should be, too. just, well, not right now.
I connect you, the surprised-looking reflection claims.
To ... what? Tasha prompts, ears up, which only makes her opposite look more surprised. I have this memory about people in castles talking to mirrors for nefarious purposes, but it's not like that, is it?
I connect you to you, the reflection.. clarifies? I am found in the eyes of others. Maybe that's why it seemed Tasha was having a conversation with the cat, because of eye contact?
I see you, too, are vague. Vagueness, like conversations such as this, aliens, gods and demons, is another fact of Tasha's life, especially when seeking answers. So in the eyes of others. That sounds figurative, but I think you mean literally? In a sense. In the eyes ... She blinks again, sits up, and points to her forehead. Her opposite seeems to get what she means, doing the same. In the eyes of others. Something about what you are, and what I am. Something new. Or ... And here now she gasps a little, realizing another implication. Me to me. I had almost forgotten there could be more than one of me. Although, I'm not really sure how that works. And so both their ears droop. Making more of herself seems a little less likely, what with her storming off and isolating herself.
There are images again. A sapling tied to a guide post. Hands clasping and bound together by ribbons. A bandage over a wound.
Tasha considers these with a skeptical air, and so her mirrored version is skeptical of her lack of understanding. She considers what she sees at length, each seeming to be a memory of someone else, yet she's been told this person connects her to her. If that's the case, then, if she were being logical and literally about it, these images might be her's. She thinks back further, then it comes to her: The topogoric, the many faces, the other realities, herself. She leans in, the other her seeming to scrutinize her understanding, and focus on the first image, of the sapling.
The post is to help guide the sapling's growth, and keep it from being blown over, at least as far Tasha's knowledge of gardening suggests.
Is another of herself gardening? And what about the ribbons, the wound? She supposes she's not going to hear the answer, but she tries none the less. That, after all, is what seeking and searching it all about. And these images are of me?
Of my role, her reflection replies. To support you, bind you, protect you until you are finished.
I see, Tasha says, leaning back and nodding, and so her image approves of her understanding. Until I'm finished. This would greatly explain why, despite being whole, she doesn't feel it, and it's a relief to hear she isn't simply missing something. It's nice to know you're looking out for me. Thank you.
These things take time, her reflection notes. So even Persephone has her limits when it comes to stitching all of Tasha's pieces together.
It does go a long way to comfort Tasha that her inquiries in to both herself and her soul are immensely complicated, and that she shouldn't feel put off by either taking time and immense focus. Of her developement in particular, she she's especially relieved that she shouldn't feel complete, because she isn't. She's coming together, finding herself, and there's even a part of her that's helping do that just that. She slumps a little as it feels like a weight has lifted, just a bit, off her shoulders. Are you, then, the one who spoke to me earlier, when I looked in to Creamsicle's eyes? She might as well confirm, clarity and certainty is always in short supply.
I am found in the eyes of others who cannot speak, her reflection replies.
Or after some thought: find me by not looking inward.
Thank you for being direct, Tasha offers, even if the answer would, in most any other context, be anything but. She gestures broadly, as does her other; this is how it is. Don't hole up and brood. I hear that a lot. I think I'll go pick up Creamsicle and sleep for a while, at least I won't be alone.
I'm not the only one, her reflection notes. But it isn't clear what that is in reference to.
Tasha considers there may be others working to put her back together, other systems. But the systems may not have been designed to interact with her, or at least, not in-depth. And how would they explain what they're doing, even if they could? The soul, she's found, is not something easily understood, it is something even the highest beings she's encountered struggle with. While some may consume it, understanding is another matter entirelu, it seems. Still, she decides she probably shouldn't assume, and so she asks, Are the others also putting me together? Are they ... She considers how to word the question, opting for directness, ... friendly, or hostile? There are other influencers around, after all.
Yellow, the reflection replies. Blue follows, and Tasha's reflection's eyes even glint blue at that moment. They're always yellow though.
So Hastur and Persephone are both trying to rebuild me, two Markers and two claims. Tasha bites her lip, frowning. At the same time her reflection matches her concern, and why shouldn't it? defeating the grasp of a demon god whom she owes favors to is something to set anyone on edge. Both of powers are trying to shape what I become. Or their Colors.
They are here, their roles are unknown to me, is the explanation. Maybe it really is just the Markers link to her?
Tasha decides to keep an eye on things, but if the Reflection doesn't know, it doesn't know, and there's no use in her inqurining further. Sensing she may have learned what she can, she nods to her reflection and it nods respectfully back. Then I will leave you to your task. At least now, with the long journey back, I can try to rest. I'm sure the others can endure without me for a little while.
Her reflection is silent on the matter. So it's just Tasha and the bed, which is also calling to her in a different way.
"Well," goes Tasha as she stands, stretching out, arms above head and locked as her back arches, "I guess I'll go get that nap now that that's done." Her arms fall and she makes her way out, forgoing clothes for now, since she'll just need to get dressed again anyway. At least everything seems to have turned out okay. I can read the logs later.
Just as she's getting comfortable, the dive klaxon sounds. It can be jarring when you aren't expecting it, but it means the Dark Horse is back in the Maelstrom again.
Tasha's ears are momentarily up, body frozen, but as nothing seems to be about to fall apart, explode, or alert her, she steadily resumes her relaxation. It isn't long before she finds herself in a drowsy haze, looking forward to waking up and maybe eating something, maybe a lot of somethings.
Just before falling asleep, a part of her realizes she'll have to deal with the Lapi again to get something actually edible..
She'll worry about that when she wakes up.
Once she wakes up, Tasha still feels a bit heavy. Maybe her new body isn't eager to leave the bed, despite what her stomach and bladder want. But nothing else managed to disturb her for however long she was actually asleep for.
Groaning, and perversely amused her unified body still does that when she wakes, Tasha pushes herself up with an arm, kneeling and rubbing her head with her free hand. Her ruff tickles her Human-like hands and her tail idly swishes about, aimless, as half-awake as the rest of her.
Also familiar is the feeling of matted fur and feathers where she was lying in one position for so long. But there's no sign that she was drooling at least. Her sinuses and throat aren't irritated either, so she probably wasn't snoring either.
Tasha bends in, stretches her wings, then reaches with her tail to try fluffing herself up in that manner. It's not something she's tried before, and if it works it could open a new and easier world of rapid preening. While she's at that she rubs at the compressed fur to handle things that way; the benefit of having an extra 'hand'.
If she's going to leave the room, she probably needs clothes. Most everything she has needs to be retailored though. There is always the bathrobe option that Hakeber is fond of. The Karnor would never say just where she got the pink fuzzy slippers though.
While she's sure walking around naked would do a lot to win some appreciation, it wouldn't help the cause of assuring people she's still sane. Thus Tasha dresses, albiet in a comfort-first and fashion-second, perhaps fourth or fifth, even if it's a two animal race. She pulls out some shorts she'd been meaning to try, belts them on, then pulls up her cpmfortable booties, which are now extra comfortable but a bit awkward as they don't quite fit her legs or feet, and then it's a simple t-shirt followed by her bathrobe. And, to show she's not mad at him without having to say so, it's one of Gabriel's t-shirts, which also doubles as a kind of robe that has the advantage of smelling like her mate. So outfitted, she heads in to the Owner's Deck commons.
The lounge area is empty. A check of the chronometer shows that she's probably been asleep for over twelve hours! So it should be the night-cycle now.
Tasha rechecks the time just to be sure, twelve hours! She had planned to really log out, but she wasn't expecting to sleep that long. She decides she must have been as tired physically as she was mentally, her adrenaline having hidden the realization, that or the cocktail of other emotions. Whatever the case may be her mission hasn't changed: Find food. She'd rather not disturb Liza after having given her the brush off, so she decides now might be a good time to learn to cook something. She heads for the Owner's Deck Foyer, and in the center of that, the Fore Lift.
The main deck corridor lighting is low, save for the light coming out of the Med Bay. Belters seem to be on different cycle than Flatlanders, something closer to thirty hours.
Deciding she wants food more than talk, but knowing further avoiding the crew would be bad for morale, Tasha heads towards and -- hopefully -- past the Med Bay entrance with what she hoes is a nonchalant casualness; all is well, nothing happened to be concerned over.
There are some odd smells coming from the Med Bay, but no motion that Tasha senses.. so nobody coming to talk to her! The galley is dark, since everything is shut down. But that's what proximity sensors are for! It begins to light up as soon as Tasha enters. She's pretty sure the disturbing symbols drawn on the walls and tables weren't there before. And blood wouldn't stick to the surfaces like that, would it? So it probably isn't blood.
Tasha glances at the symbols as she passes in much the way someone might regard a piece of decorative art lining a hallway; interesting, but you have place to be. And soon Tasha is at that place, the place with food. "Ship, she whispers in to the kitchen's terminal, "please list and display simple breakfast recipies that can be made with the ship's kitchen stores and eaten by Karnors or Vartans." She knows how to cook a few things, of course, but maybe there'll be something new ane exciting she can try.
There are the usual raw ingredients, plus things that the kitchen can create from some of them, like sausage from the various meats acquired in the garden. And combinations of things she hadn't ever considered before, like something called 'pigs in blankets' that Shojo must have somehow been hiding as an option.
The fact that it was hidden makes Tasha want it all the more, and she congradulates herself on still having an explorer's attitude even after all she's been through when she the 'pigs'. And not only that, orders them by replacing the 'pig' with one of combined sausage options. She considers calling it hybrid in a blanket, but immediately decides not to encourage anyone on board to eat her. At least one being could, and several others, it could be possible.
The ingredients are tallied up, the recipe is calculated.. and all Tasha has to do is enter a password to unlock the pantry so she can get everything.
"Why is there a password to the pantry," Tasha grouses. It's her ship, she shouldn't be kept from anything. Well, she'll see to this. "Niss, can you override the password to the pantry? I'm hungry and it's my ship. Please."
"You do not want one of the non-rationed options?" the ship's 'computer' queries.
Tasha sighs, deep and heartfelt. On one hand she really wants whatever it is, even if she's never had it before, she's decided on some level she must have it. On the other hand stealing from ship's stores, even by the captain, can and has gotten people thrown off ships. And, like in the air, so in space, being ejected from a ship is rarely pleasant. Plus it'd be terribly irresponsible of her. She chews her lip for a long moment, then shakes her head. "Alright, fine, I'll take one of the boring options." She punches that in. "Is there something wrong with the ship's stores, then?"
"The quartermaster has restricted usage for crew morale activities," the Niss report.
"Oh that. Well, my morale is down. Still ... " Tasha drops her head on her hand, and elbow on the kitchen counter. "I guess I shouldn't overrule Shojo. Only Gabriel should be able to do that, and I should ask Gabriel to do it. It'd be bad for morale. Or would it. Keeping people from food makes people grouchy. It's making me grouchy, but I'm trying to be responsible, here." The young woman mulls over this conundrum, but finally shrugs. "Well people need to fail to learn how to succeed, right? I won't interfere." Something then occurs to her, largely because she's been inadvertantly staring at it since she started talking. "So, who decided to decorate with symbols? And why."
A handmeal is dispensed from the synthesizer, and the Niss report, "The Ritual of Kem was performed, using some of the rationed consumables."
Just to be safe, Tasha punches up an order of two more of the 'pigs', then punches up some tea because she's fairly sure coffee will bring everyone to her in short order. She goes with black tea, something called earl grey, since she expects to be awake for a while. "And I imagine this Kem-ritual has little to do with Kem on Caltrop and a lot more to do with the Wizard Planet?"
"It was part of the bargain brokered by Samael with the entity called Uscias," Niss explains. "It required a sacrifice. It was agreed that thirteen kilos of raw meat would be an acceptable alternative to one of the ship cats, Dr. Sen or Liza Softpaw."
"That is preferable," Tasha agrees, picking up a a 'pig' and sliding it in to her mouth. She takes a bite, chews for a moment, then nods as she decides it was the right choice. After swalloing, and while holding her cup feels around until it finds her mug (always in the same spot), she inquires, "So what did this ritual do? Hide us or the ship, scare off the little gremlins? Does it come off the walls?"
"It lured in the extra-universal entities so that they could be devoured by Uscias," the Niss reply.
"Well that's convienent. Everyone gets something. They did a good job." Without me. "And it's important that the crew be able to function if I'm not available. I was dealing with, um, personal problems."
"They did not seem pleased with the solution or side effects," Niss notes.
"What, uh, side effects are we talking about here? And why wasn't this a good solution?" Tasha takes her cup from her tail, then walks sidelong towards the tea dispenser, still eyeing the symbol.
"The meat came back to life and had to be killed again several times," the Niss relate. "Then some of the crew began to babble in odd languages. There were many sounds that we presume to be animal in nature, followed by the smearing of blood on the walls and on each other. Dr. Sen seemed to be afflicted worse than the others. The Vartans and Eeee were least affected. Modo seemed to enjoy it. The Lapi hid behind the counter. Samael did some things we have difficulty describing, as we do not possess the proper metaphors."
Throughout the explaination Tasha takes a long, slow, sip on her cup of tea while wearing an expression of comfortable distance from the unpleasant subject matter at hand. A kind of mild interest, or slight amusement, but not exactly what someone might interpret as deep concern. At length, she says, "Well that does sound very unpleasant. I'm glad I slept through that." She switches to having a nosh of her pig-in-a-blanket, unphased by specters of undead foodstuffs.
"It is possible that the participants served as conduits for channeling the alien spirits into the 'Wizard' Uscias," the Niss conclude. "They were not talkative afterwards."
"Channeling unclean and otherworldy spirits will do that to you," Tasha agrees, pointing what's left of her 'pig' at the intercom while nodding slowly. "At least we're away, anyway. And what of Uscias, still slowboating its way to the next galaxy?"
"The worldship has not changed its trajectory," the intercom reports.
"Wizards," Tasha snorts, waggling her cup in a gesture somewhere between wafting something away and 'what can you do'. That said and done, she turns and bends over slightly, tail up, eyes scanning the food processor as the third and last of her 'pigs' is rendered from raw materials to a old Terran favorite. "Well I'm glad that's out of the way. Hopefully flat space can live up to its name and be flat and boring for a while."
"The Maelstrom is smoother here, so it is easier to travel faster," the Niss sort-of agree. "She does not resist our passage greatly where things are thin."
Tasha takes the last 'pig' and puts it on a high-edged plate, then goes to refill her tea. "I don't think I've ever heard you give a gender to the Maelstrom before. Usually you're not given to the same kind of sentientality and anthropomorphization as Type I life."
"The Maelstrom is a living thing," the Niss claim. "One of those you refer to as Fundamentals."
Tasha pauses, head lifting and ears going up. "Is that so?" She cocks her head to the side, as if the sound of the revelation had a lingering quality she had taken the time to appreciate. "Then her Fundamental nature is space? Or, is she barrier? The wall between here-and-there?"
"She simply is, and her functions are not fully understood," the Niss explain. "There does not seem to be any obvious relationship between her and reality. She is a living thing in the way oceans are living things."
"A dreaming whale once told me all life comes from the sea. Maybe it's the same way with her." Tasha resumes stacking her plate and gathering her tea. Once that's done she hoists it all up, handing her tea to her tail which holds it over her shoulder like one might hold a lantern, and with two hands around her plate and one muzzle around the last of her first 'pig' she heads for the exit humming some nameless tune.
For a moment, in the reduced light of the corridor, it looks like something is moving in one of the unlit areas (since in night mode the lighting follows the people).
"Nroo lurkung," Tasha declares, muzzle still around her 'pig' and thus occupied with more important things than mere talking. Things like food, and carrying.
The shadows still feel like they're lurking as Tasha returns to the elevator, and eventually to her office. Nothing seems to be lurking there, but the lights are fully on.
But Tasha is used to scary things lurking just out of sight; sometimes they're not even out of sight. Sometimes they're right there, in the light, and sometimes they want. Want to fight. Merely lurking seems, to her, not unlikke letting a bug crawl upon its was, rather than try to smash it or shoo it on.
The tray gets placed on the table and Tasha gets placed in her office chair, fingers dancing across controls to bring up her usual assortment of navigation, ship's status, but leaving out the other items. She then fumbles behind her without looking. "Now where are you Marker ... "
It doesn't come easily to hand this time.. but she hasn't checked the desk drawers yet.
"How do these things even work," Tasha mutters without any real rancor, fumbling through drawers, over the tops of cabinents, and even under her desk.
It's only when she's given up and sat back down that she sees it next to her plate.
Tasha makes a face. She's sure this is some kind of revenge for her being less than deferential upon meeting Persephone, or maybe the great whale of a goddess has as much of a irreverent streak as she does. Possibly more, a irreverent streaks at the speed of light. "Well lets have a look at you." She picks up the Marker and turns it this way and that, then holds it up to the light with both hands. She does suppose the tri-cornered design could be interpreted as looking like 2D rendition of a 3D square box.
Something seems wrong with the shape of it, but Tasha can't quite put her finger on just what it is. It's one of those things that nags at the back of one's mind, like trying to remember the name of someone you met once, or where you heard a tune that you can't stop humming.
Tasha squints a moment longer, then simply shrugs her shoulders and puts the object down on her desk. She supposes it must be folded-space, or folded-time, or folded-who-knows-what-maybe-a-universe. Something folded, she's sure. And, when she thinks of it more, she realizes it's a momento and a box shaped in the form of a Vril-ya grave stone or coffin, given by the woman-like deity who brought her back from death. A deity named after an old Terran goddess of death. It's all very self-referential and circular in an amusing way she decides, snorting a laugh as she reaches for the second of her three 'pigs'.
And lo, her pig is missing! It was definitely there when she put the plate down, but was it there when she found the marker? Did she eat it and forget?
Tasha squints even squintier this time around. She's fairly sure she didn't eat it, she remembers food. She is much less sure if the Marker somehow ate it for the amusement of its maker, or maybe itself; her self-soul-repair seems to have a whole personality so she wouldn't put it beyond a Marker. Whatever the case is, she looks around for it in case she knocked it off with her tail somehow.
Unlike the previous search, she does find crumbs, but those could be from anything. Once she gives up again.. she sees the sausage-thing inside of its pastry-thing, back on the plate again.
"Oh really." Far from annoyed, Tasha finds herself perversely amused by the whole thing, even if she decides she really ought to be annoyed. Dropping her elbow on the desk, she drops her head down on the attached hand and stares at the 'pig' a moment. From there to the Marker, and then back.
It's then that she has an idea. "You're not really here, are you. You're like the other one. My other fake grave stone, you're attached to my soul. So you must be ... " She reaches for the 'pig', then the Marker, undecided on which to touch. "You must be a projection and maybe ... I can just ... reach in ... too ... "
The pig is real, its blanket still warm. The Marker is as real as it is allowed to be. Tasha can feel it. She's pretty sure others have felt it. But unlike the Origin Markers, the blue and yellow one have never been subjected to any sort of testing, beyond seeing a little dragon bite the end off of the yellow one once.
And Thoth reached right through one. he said the Yellow one wasn't real, wasn't substantial. And that it's attached to me. Eyes-of-Others said they exist as seperate entities inside me. But are they influenced be me, reactant to me, or independant of me? And that doesn't even include how the 'pig' suddenly vanished. Did it go inside the Marker? Inside her soul?
Shrugging her shoulders again, Tasha picks up the Marker and tries biting it.
It's like biting.. something hard but soft at the same time, while not actually giving any. Like an Amazonian Warrior's butt, maybe. It's also a bit like tasting your own tongue.
"Ew," goes the young woman, who puts the Marker right back down. Her head goes right back on her hand and the staring resumes. "So, are you a higher-dimensional construct? But the Waymakers don't use that in personal constructions, though maybe you're not personal. And you're tied to me, somehow. Like a projection. A higher-dimensional projection in to lower dimensional space? Or the opposite?" She studies the item, trying to see the clue, the puzzle piece that will help herfind where next to go.
That bit that's been gnawing at the back of her mind finally seems to break through to her consciousness. The Marker has straight sides. But nothing in Persephone's world had straight lines. Even in Charon's garden, the only things that had edges were the decorative marble ruins, and even those had mostly curved shapes to them. The symbol inside, while rounded, had straight lines trisecting it.
Tasha considers this. It could also be decorative, but somehow she doubts it. Leaning in, she wonders if the lines aren't actually straight at all, maybe it's she who seems them as straight, but that the Marker is ... deeper ... somehow. If she turns her mind just so, maybe she can see that the lines actually curve.
Maybe they do curve, but always away from the observer. So maybe if two people looked at it, one of them would see the curve.
The not-hybrid leans back, hands laying palm-first on the table. "Okay, okay." She suspects she's being space-momed, or god-momed, which is even worse. "Come on, then, I'll go be socialable." Popping the second 'pig' in her mouth, she hands her tea to her tail, then grabed the last 'pig' with her left hand and Marker in the right -- where she keeps an eye on it. "Lets go see what the others are up to."
Tasha decides to find Gabriel, least likely of everyone to be angry with her. Or at least outwardly angry.
Since Gabriel isn't in their room, he must be someplace else. That would mean either the official captains quarters or the bridge.
Luckily for Tasha they're both in the same rgeion of the ship: To the fore, with Gabriel's personal quarters just off the exit to the CiC itself. He uses the quarters to rest and relax when Tasha is occupied, he needs private space, or else to meet people and perform captain duties that do not require her presence. She heads for his cabin first, as it's slightly closer and less likely to have glaring faces.
There's still that unsettling feeling like there's some gaping maw ahead, until the next section of the corridor lights up and the maw is pushed further away. There is goo on the touchpad to the captains quarters, looking a bit like thin black phlegm.
Tasha grimaces at the black slime. She supposes this must be the side-effeect of a demonic ritual, not that she's surprised rituals of the Shadow-beings manifest as a kind of waking nightmare. Much about the Shadow-beings is, as she's seen personally, a waking nightmare and their minds, their essences, seem to bleed this inherent nature in to their reality.
Someone will have to clean it all up, of course. Maybe Lacci likes malicious slime?
Well, something to get to later. Thankfully being the owner Tasha does not have to clean up slime if she doesn't want to; she cleaned up quite enough slime as a child. After poking the buttons and wiping her hand off against the bulkhead, Tasha calls inside, "Gabriel? Did the slime get you?"
There's no reply on the intercom but the door does slide open. It's dark inside, save for a dimmed lamp over the desk. Gabriel is in the center though, apparently sitting on the floor. The room does have a pleasant odor.
Leave it to her mate to find a way to stave off the darkness in an approachable way, Tasha decides. "H-hi," she greets the man around her 'pig', giving a little wave with the other breakfast item. "I ... brought you something to eat?" While normally loathe to share her breakfast, this is Gabriel after all.
"No food," he replies, with something of a gurgle.
Well she did offer, and that's what counts. Tasha swallows the last of her breakfast after a fast chew, something she learned what seems like -- and to her brief surprise literally is -- a lifetime ago. "Not feeling too well?" She sits down across from the man and hides her remaining meal behind her back, placing the Marker on the bed where she can keep an eye on it while watching Gabriel. "The Niss told me what happened."
There's a very wet chuckle from the shadowed figure. "They did, did they? We will never let Sam negotiate again," he grumbles, then has to pause and spit into a bowl that's resting between his crossed legs. Tasha still has only been able to smell him, it's too dark to see more than a silhouette still.
"It's not wise to trust Sam," Tasha agrees in a slow, understanding tone." Her gaze shofts momentarily to the bowl, then back to Gabriel. At the same time Tasha's hackles begin to rise, that old familiar feeling of something coming, yet unidentified. "He might be friendly, for what he is, but he is what he is, and they have very long and complicated plans." She isn't sure why she goes on so long, except that it feels like pushing that fear away, "The Niss said there were ... effects. They, the Shadow ... " Tasha bites her lip. She pushes aside her worry, taking mental charge, and simple asks, "Did he hurt you?"
"I don't know if hurt quite applies," Gabriel mutters. "It was something different. For some it was worse. I'm not quite recovered yet. But I'm fairly certain that I'm alive. Jonas will have to check us all once he recovers. The humans seemed to get the worst of it."
Tasha's empty hands open and close. Somewhere deep down a seething impulse flickers, too distant to rise to her face and disturb her mind, but there, and she's aware of it. She keeps her tone as calm and even as she can and pushes herself to investigate, "Why do you say fairly certain? Did something like what happened to me, happen here?"
"Lights, fifty-percent," Gabriel says, and room brightens a bit. Gabriel does look like something that just crawled its way out of a grave though. His fur is damp and matted, including clumps matted with blood. He looks almost emaciated, but that is probably just a trick of the light and other things, like the black drool that darkens his chin and lower jaw, with black foam along the lips. His cheeks are also matted with the black ichor, as if he's been crying it out.. but has a ways to go still, since his eyes are bloodshot black as well. There are even black areas under his ears, and a glance down at his naked body shows that the black stuff was coming out of every opening, apparently. The bowl is half filled with the foul looking and smelling stuff.
He even holds up a hand, showing dark speckling on his palm-pads. If the stuff is even coming out of the sweat glands, it might explain why the humans have it worse, since they're covered in sweat glands.
Tasha goes completely still, as if she'd suddenly become a statue representation of an alien creature. A reaction piece, something to place in a garden. A fairy, startled, if mildly. It does not reflect how she feels inside at all. Several seconds later she just smiles. "I'm going to kill him, I think."
"It was the only way to get passed the things, supposedly," Gabriel notes. "Not sure what sort of communication was happening between him and the planet. Not entirely sure why we went along with it. Thoth vanished during it all."
"That's very convienent for Samael. More so, how easy everyone went along with it. Like they knew I wasn't watching, that I was having a moment of weakness." Tasha glances back towards the hatch. "Niss, where is Thoth?"
"Dr. Amuntaten is in his quarters on the executive level," the Niss reply.
"Is he still functioning? Is he alive?" Tasha glances back to Gabriel and feels that same familiar twinge, that electricity, somewhere between wanting to go to him and wanting to go strangle Samael out of reality.
"We are not able to get that sort of reading from him," the Niss apologize. "He may be actively preventing it. Samael was last detected in the hangar."
"Contact him. See if he responds." The hangar. Tasha considers what's in the Hangar, there's the shuttles, her Titan, various supplies and tools. Samael often likes to lurk in the hangar.
There is also Horus.
Tasha's muzzle twitches. "Do you think this is a power play, Gabe?" Tasha looks back to the man and scoots closer to him taking his hand unbidden and looking them over. "Is this all of it, are there other effects other than the living meat, the walls, and this ... This ichor?"
"I don't know," Gabriel says. "It's like the worst hangover ever on top of the worst flu and some sort of venereal and bowel disease thrown in."
"This is Dr. Amuntaten," the voice that comes over the intercom claims, in the characteristically flat tones of the ancient hybrid.
"I'm worried about what it is. If it's just harmless goo, that's bad, but it's manageable. If it's something else ... " Else, like Shadow-essence, like demon blood. Samael told her once that it could be used to control a being. She's about to say more when the response comes in. "Are you alright, Thoth? Did this deal hurt you?"
There is a pause as the person at the other end deciphers Tasha's intonation. "I was not comfortable with it," he finally admits.
"I would have appreciated your stepping in and offering advice at that point. Do you feel it was necessary or do you believe it was a ploy to accomplish something else?" Tasha puts Gabriel's paw down and picks up the other one. She searches along it as if she might finds the answers somewhere in the pink-and-black mottle.
"My experience with such matters is likely less than yours," Thoth claims. "I was ineligible to participate in any case."
Tasha blinks at that. She hadn't considered she might be more knowledgeable about something than the demigod of knowledge. "The black icor concerns me," Tasha admits, chiming in with her own knowledge now that Thoth has stated the necessity. "Their blood can be used to control the being it's in, or at least their flesh can. This may also be a manifestation of combined suffering of the soul, some attempt to create another of their kind, or something else. Gabriel said they agreed with the plan without quite knowing why. That sounds like coertion. I'm looking for ulterior motives, here."
"It is Samael's flesh being rejected by their bodies after consumption," Thoth explains.
"Sam told me consuming demon flesh allows for control of the consumer. he told me this back on Caltrop, when we were mock-arguing about something. Demons, and what they're like, I think." Tasha tries very hard not to frown, to keep her expression neutral. "Samael could have control over the crew. That would leave you, me, the Tadpole, the Niss and Horus free of his influence. Tatha was bound by Thotep. And Sam can use the crew to control me."
"An expensive means of control," Thoth replies. "The purpose, from what I know of the ritual, is more akin to.. bait. With your crew being the traps."
"Expensive?" Tasha looks up, ears flicking. "Expensive to Sam?"
"Large or numerous vermin require large amounts of bait," Thoth points out.
"So Samael isn't doing well, either?" Tasha cocks her head to the side. "Niss, can you display the Hangar bay for me? Captain's Quarter wall. And computer, dim the lights by half again." Putting Gabriel's hands down, Tasha picks up the Marker and then scoots over t o sit beside him, leaning against him and facing the wall. The Marker rests in her lap, glimmering in that particular shade of blue.
The hangar is also dark, with no sign of Sam. But then the demon can choose not to be seen by people.. and that probably counts for the Niss as well, since they're the ones operating the cameras.
Tasha studies the image at length, finally looking to Gabriel. "I don't want to leave, but I need to talk to him. The hangar is a good place to do it." She doesn't say because my Titan and Horus are nearby. Not ideal for demon hunting, but at the personal scale her anti-Shadow weapons are limited.
"I'm not much use right now," Gabriel admits. "Moka is ranking officer."
"The Phins were unaffected?" Tasha begins to rise, patting Gabriel's shoulder as she does. "And you know I'm not here for how useful or not you might be. I'm just ... " She hunts for the words a moment, waggling her hands, tail twitching. "I'm not doing that well either," she concludes, of a bit vaguely.
"They didn't take part. Needed to be able to pilot and navigate," Gabriel gurgles.
"When I'm done I'm coming back here," Tasha promises. She pushes down the sense of guilt, both in leaving, and in failing everyone, and rises fully. She stows the Marker in her pocket and heads for the Hangar.
There's still that sense of things just beyond the light, but now Tasha knows it probably isn't Sam. It seems worse in the long corridor that goes around the saddle (or 'engine room') to the hangar. The lighting is a bit better at least once she arrives.
That the presence lingers, yet is not Samael, issome cause for concern to Tasha. Something else may be on board, or it may be that Tatha-hem's bindings are slipping. Perhaps whatever has happened, has focused its energies in the Bridle. She doesn't know, but perhaps she can ask, soon.
Teki teki teki. It's not a sound and not a thought, but Tasha thinks it's telepathic. It could be Sam, but it doesn't give her any sense of direction.
Of course, he can't really hide from her third eye, if she gets close enough.
If he's mocking her, or in pain, Tasha thinks that either way it's a strange way to go about it. Without Samael showing himself she's left to look, wandering around in a semi-directed pattern, a kind of sweep made flawed by anxiety and a lack of experience using her literal third eye.
She sees him under the Terran shuttle. His shape is.. probably closer to his true one, but the shining outline she sees is full of gaps.
Tasha makes her way over, then hunches down at the edge of the shuttle before lowering herself further, tail curling around the shuttle's landing gear to steady her. "You're looking a little holey, Sam." She's under too much stress to smile, or even add that extra tone to her voice, so it comes off as very businesslike.
"I was never holy," Samael replies. It's a bit strained though.
"The frog people and their eaten planet would probably agree." Tasha props her head on both hands, laying flat on her belly. "Want to tell me what happened?"
"Got Uscias to help, in exchange for not telling Thotep about the worldship," Sam says. His voice is more hollow-sounding than usual. "Got rid of the parasites. But blood in the water. My blood. Tatha-hem is faster than the sharks though. But they see us. Can feel them."
"So the little ones are gone, but now we have bigger ones chasing us? Will they be able to catch up if we have to stop somewhere, if we reach our destination?" Tasha's tail releases the landing gear only to sway in agitated ripples. The rest of the woman is very still, something that would have impressed the old her greatly, and is missed by the new one.
"Only in the Maelstrom," Sam says. "Can't leave it. Kaa calls them krakens. Went after Tatha-hem before."
"Oh. Those. But we're safe." Tasha nods slowly, then lowers her head and scoots a little closer. "How are you feeling, Sam?"
"I am still aware of the parts of me that were eaten," is the reply.
"And what should I make of that?" Tasha honestly doesn't know. It sounds unpleasant, but then Samael also said it could be used to control someone and she -- and really no one she knows -- is no expert of Shadow-being biology.
"Not the parts in the crew. The parts that were really eaten. First by the parasites, then by Uscias when it ate the parasites," Sam explains further.
"That sounds very unpleasant, Sam." Tasha hestitates, then reaches out for the shadowy mass. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought you were trying to perform some power game while I was indisposed."
"You wouldn't have let me do this otherwise," Samael claims. "I can recover the parts from the crew. Not what was lost with the parasites. I am diminished."
"So, Thoth used part of himself to freeze me, but I used part of myself to save everyone," the demon notes. "I win."
"I don't like letting member sof my crew hurt themselves if I can help it." Tasha reaces the mass then, not exactly sure what to do, tries to pat whatever area she can reach. "Did you really need to do this? You could have gotten me to come back out. Did you really do it to show up Thoth?" She bites her lip, then shrugs a little. "He is very obnoxious and stuff sometimes, I know, but I'm not sure I'd have gone this far."
"We were at a disadvantage," Samael says. "Uscias knew how to deal with the parasites. Perhaps he had an easier way, but that is not what was offered. When dealing with such beings, remember that the 'house' always wins."
"That bodes very badly for my association with you, Thotep, and Hastur. You're beginning to make me think associating with demon gods is an unsafe decision, Sam." Tasha withdraws her hand, rolls on to her side, and spreads her hands in a shrug like roadkill that has become indifferent of its fate. Her tail makes a loop. "We could still tell Thotep where the little obnoxious cube is."
"You can, I cannot," Samael notes. "My deal really only applied to me, because you are not Thotep's servitor."
"This is where you were supposed to say 'we can't' but then I was going to say, "But oh, I was asleep and made no deal, so still can," and you would have said that's a very demony thing for me to say, and been amused." Tasha spreads her hands again, rolls back on her belly, and lays her head back down. "And I am stuck being Hastur's servitor, too. What a mess I've made of everything."
"Killing gods isn't easy, so there is a price for power," Samael notes. "As there should be."
"Speaking of which, until I am recovered, I cannot serve my purpose as the Dagger of Eibon," the blob also adds.
"I suppose you're right. At least now I have Persephone's favor, and Charon's." The young woman inhales deeply, exhales, and shakes her head. "At least everyone has survived. I mean," she rolls her eyes at her own slip, "you know what I mean. And, I'll try not to stab any gods in the mean time. My experience with the World Eating Cannon has taught me a lot more about using the Dagger, which I need to think about."
"You never asked if I enjoyed destroying Urgo-hem," Same points out.
"I have a lot to keep track of, Sam, and as you've seen recently I'm not as resilient as I like to seem to be. If there's something wrong, or right, you should let me know. The more I engage with gods and the higher I look, the harder it's been to keep track of everything that's right next to me. If you resent me for it, remember I ended up destroying myself to save a god-child, and ask yourself what else I was thinking at the time." Tasha tilts her head, then. "How did you feel?" She realizes she really should be saying all this to Gabriel and the others, and isn't sure why she can open up to Samael now, except she can and maybe that just reinforces what she just said about herself.
"It was immensely pleasurable," Sam claims.
"He was a bit of a jerk, wasn't he. But maybe an understandable jerk. Sometimes I think, maybe he wanted us to destroy him, and all he did was just to bait us." Tasha then pulls herself to her knees, even if that rather hurts. "Then again, maybe he just liked toying with things. The Null seemed to agree with our choice, at least. And pleasurable isn't always good for demons, is it?" She holds up a hand. "You can tell me later. For now get some rest. Everyone should get some rest." She runs a hand along her forehead, feeling tired again despote having been awake for an hour. "I'm going back to Gabriel. Maybe I'll look for Katie and Hake if I'm feeling brave."