Cracks

§ 2020-01-19 00:23:16

[00:23] The past few days had been particularly stressful for Baishar.

The conversation with Terenyira had left him an emotional wreck. He'd made it out alive and at least physically unscarred, though he'd spent the better part of a day hiding under pillows in the den and refusing to come out. It had been a tangible reminder of just how tiny and insignificant he still was, and how incredibly out of his depth he felt.

All this, for a chance to get closer to that. In all likelihood to become a monster.

On the bright side, the Karesejat had apparently seen fit to release Valcen-za from his imprisonment. Baishar doubted anything he'd said had convinced her of anything; it left him with a sour taste in his mouth. This, too, is manipulation I can't see.

The nightmares hadn't stopped. If anything, the Karesejat now featured more prominently in them, sometimes manipulating Valcen, sometimes fusing with him, sometimes taking Baishar for herself.

And then Ryrha had gotten into a fight with Tanak. Valcen-sha had thankfully intervened before things got too serious, and argued vehemently (and successfully) with Tanak for Ryrha's continued freedom. As far as the other Hesha knew the scratches were just the result of 'a friendly tussle'. But now Tanak rarely let Ryrha out of his sight, which made any kind of planning difficult.

Not that Baishar was at this point particularly convinced Ryrha's plan was a good idea. He was upset at Valcen for misleading him, though a part of him kept wanting to forgive him, to say that he must have had a good reason. But following that argument to its source just led him in circles. Valcen loves you, Valcen has to be protected. They felt true, they felt important, even if rationally he knew they were little more than clever lies.

But the encounter with the Karesejat had reminded him that he was dealing with a Havnateh; no matter how pleasant Valcen might seem, he could become terrifying if crossed. More terrifying than he already was. And forcefully editing Valcen-za's mind without his consent was a step too far; he couldn't bring himself to do it.

...But perhaps Valcen could be convinced. Perhaps he could be reasoned with. The prospect was terrifying, because of how convincing Valcen was, but it was less terrifying than dealing with the Karesejat. And he'd survived that. He'd recovered. So he could survive this too.

Taking a deep breath, Baishar quietly opened the door to Valcen's office and let himself in. "Valcen?" he asked, nervousness infesting his voice. "We need to talk. Is now a good time?"

[00:38] The office held Valcen-sha, working on what Baishar could identify as related to the qidravem – the piece of metal in Valcen-sha's head that held a copy of Valcen-za's mind, that allowed him to occupy two bodies at the same time. Had any other god ever managed to do that? To live in two bodies simultaneously?

But the tension from the time when Valcen-za had been imprisoned had vanished. Valcen-sha had a relaxed air, one Baishar knew he was simply deeply satisfied with what he was currently working on, or with how he was working on it. Tinkering ultimately was what Valcen liked most – creating something, shaping something to his own specifications.

Like Baishar.

He looked up with a mild expression of warmth. "Baishar," he greeted him, then grinned lightly. "Of course. I can pause for a while, this isn't time critical. What's on your mind?" He inclined his muzzle in curiosity, shifting in part to turn himself to Baishar properly, in part in what as well have been a subtle celebration of the far better physical shape he was in as 'sha.

[01:24] Somehow, the warm greeting felt like a blade shoved in his gut. You're manipulating me. It was so hard to keep that thought in mind when presented with Valcen in person; it was so easy to let himself succumb to the false impression that this was his amanat. This was his master. It was not the same.

There was a long silence as Baishar struggled with forming what he wanted to say. It was obvious he was uncomfortable, that this topic wasn't going to be a friendly question about spacetime geometry or the motions of stars. Finally, when the words came out, they were stretched taut across his voice, evenly pitched.

"When I first agreed to join you, I did so in the pursuit of truth. You knew things I wanted to know. And you've taught me much, and for this I am grateful." He couldn't manage to make eye contact with Valcen; the closest he could get was Valcen's hands. "...And yet... you've put lies in my head, and you've used me as a tool to get what you want. And this cannot continue." He closed his eyes, inhaled, and found the courage to look

Valcen in the eyes. "Tell me, did you ever truly love me, or was that always a lie?"

[02:06] Valcen-sha's friendly expression did not immediately change except in the subtle detail of his gaze's focus, which lost itself to some distant point in an instant and did not come back for long seconds. Then Valcen's smile returned to a more natural, good-natured expression, as though perhaps he wasn't aware of the gravity of the accusation, and he spoke.

"I'm sorry you're dealing with that particular cognitive dissonance, that suggests that was sloppy work, and that's on me." He sounded quite conversational for someone who had just, by casual implication, forever dismissed the notion that love had ever been involved. Soft-spoken: "But you're slightly mistaken here – it will continue.

"I put the 'lies', as you call them, in there for our combined safety. We can't allow ourselves the luxury of grand mistakes, they must absolutely be prevented. We've discussed this, back when you helped me prevent my own future mistakes. Even the small ones wreak havoc – as could be plainly seen from 'za's recent incarceration."

He paused, glancing at Baishar as he might at a regrettably defective device that he wanted to fix as gently as possible.

"But I can see the current state of your mind is deeply distressing to you. And it will, I assume, only get worse. I do apologise; would you like me to try and straighten the knots back out?" As far as Baishar could tell, it was a sincere offer, a friendly suggestion of further mental mutilation.

Perhaps Baishar had been mistaken that this could have led to anything else. Valcen had never denied having manipulated Baishar's mind – that he would outright deny the accusation that the axioms implanted weren't entirely truthful would probably have been out of character. And there had been ample warning that Baishar's programming was faltering.

To the fallen god it was likely deeply regrettable that Baishar had finally thrown off the shackle of one of the claims implanted in his head, but it couldn't be too much of a surprise.

[02:43] The response left Baishar speechless for a long moment, just staring at Valcen with a growing sense of horror. "You don't—" The raw truth of it shouldn't have surprised him, but its perfectly calm delivery left him deeply rattled. "You don't even care," he finished, his voice quiet and hollow. It hurt, deep inside his heart. "You don't even care!" he repeated, louder, just short of a shout, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

"I'm just a tool to you, then, is that it?" There was rage and despair, both, in his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to respond with the venom he wanted to feel. Even now the voice in his head was gently whispering, 'See, he had a good reason. He had a good reason to lie; he had a good reason to use you.' "Just... something broken, something to be repaired."

Ryrha was right. He let that thought cascade through his mind, let it sink in. I should never have gone along with Valcen's plan. I did this. "Valcen... Please listen to me. Removing your empathy was a mistake. It was wrong. I should never have done it. I should never have let you convince me to do it. This isn't you, this isn't the Valcen I knew before. But we can still fix it. Please."

[03:24] 'sha sighed – it was a deep sigh, full of pity. "Let's unwrap that slowly, in reverse order. No. If you return me to my previous state, you are going to turn me into, at best, a sack of nerves. I can't work on things like the Imitorunyemaa while I'm plagued by the idea of using them, and whether we like it or not, working on projects like that is required of me."

He spread his paws a little. "Regardless, you're not listening. I don't hold that against you, it's almost impossible to think clearly while agitated, but please stop to think for a moment:

"If I didn't care, this conversation would sound very different. If I didn't care, I would call for Tanak at the top of my lungs and let him wrestle you into the Torunyema. I may not love you, Baishar, but I do very much care. I am asking you; I accept if you would rather not."

Over the course of the conversation, he maintained his calm, friendly air, at odds with everything he was saying. It would be so easy to say 'yes', to let go of this pain, anger and sorrow, but it was no less vile for it. His gaze was fixed on Baishar, looking at him with a mortifyingly clear and lucid expression.

"I owe you my sanity, which is worth more than I can possibly express in words. So please understand, I want to work with you, not against you. I care about your current distress. I want to help. Will you let me?"

There was something wrong about the mirror image, of course. Valcen spoke with an alien calm; Baishar was making his similar offer in frantic desperation. The asymmetry favoured one narrative, but it was maddeningly unclear which it was.

§ 2020-01-20 20:10:31

[20:10] Valcen wasn't even considering it. Why had he thought that he would? Why had he thought he'd listen? Valcen could be reasoned with in theory, but he preferred his current state over where he'd been before. Why would he want to change? I shouldn't have done it. I should have refused.

The eerie calm wasn't helping matters; it only served to reinforce his own cognitive dissonance. You're being unreasonable. Valcen only wants to help you. He fought the gentle assurance, the lulling calm of his axioms. "No," he replied, forcefully, before they could convince him otherwise. He clung to that refusal, to the only chance he had of making things right again.

"Listen to yourself. You don't even regret it any more. Before, you at least had the decency to feel guilt over what you did to me; you saw it as it was, a necessary evil. Now it's your first option when things aren't going according to plan." He struggled to maintain his composure as he spoke, ultimately failing, sinking down into a quivering heap of feathers and anxiety. "You've changed, Valcen. And not for the better. And you won't even let me fix my mistake."

[20:38] Valcen did not approach, although some tension in his posture suggested he was considering it. He did not look angry. He did not look manic. He looked concerned.

"Baishar," he said, slowly. "This is not my 'first option'. It is my only option. By analogy, I put screws into your head, and now you're hysterical about that I want to use a screwdriver to take them back out.

"If it were my first option to deal with things that weren't going to plan, I would have done awful things to Ryrha several times over by now. I'm sure you realise this – even if in your current emotional state, it may be difficult to see the truth of it. But you're intelligent; I trust you can figure it out."

[20:58] Baishar shuddered, unable to bring himself to look Valcen in the face. Please don't hurt Ryrha, a part of him wanted to cry out. Please don't change her. She's the only one left who's still intact.

After long moments of silence, he finally spoke: "You're not removing the screws; you're replacing them with nails." If Valcen put him in the Torunyema, he'd never be able to recognize Valcen's manipulation again. He'd be nothing but a blindly obedient slave. "I can't. I won't. I'm not your puppet."

[21:05] "And I wouldn't want you to be," Valcen said, gently. "If you don't want my help, I won't do anything. You can stay in this distressed state indefinitely and I won't touch you, as long as you continue to play by the rules. The one rule; you remember the one rule, don't you? Don't sabotage my work.

"I am not going to be friendly to you, I am not going to respect your boundaries, if you do that again. I want that to be unmistakably clear to you." His voice, somehow, remained gentle throughout, as though he were firmly reprimanding a hatchling known to get into trouble, rather than uttering an existential threat.

§ 2020-01-26 00:44:21

[00:44] That reminder drove a spike through his mind, nailing it to the ground. Sabotaging Valcen's work. Including fixing Valcen's mind back to how it was before. It didn't matter whether it was right or wrong; Valcen would see it as sabotage. He'd said as much a few moments ago.

What options did that leave him with? If he went through with Ryrha's plan, he would lose everything. If he accepted Valcen's help, he would lose the one insight that let him see Valcen for what he was; he would lose Ryrha; he would lose any claim to being on the kavkema's side. It was surrender.

The Progression will not stop for us. The phrase brought back memories of a simpler time, when capture by the Nayabaru had been the greatest thing to worry about. Had his mother truly understood what shedding one's soul entailed? How perilous the path to immortality was, how ill-prepared his upbringing had left him for it?

He wanted to abandon it. Abandon the project, abandon Valcen, abandon Ryrha. It was an irresponsible, pointless urge; it only removed the last of his ability to make a difference. Help Tamachelu. That was what had driven him once, wasn't it? Though now Help Valcen felt as important, if not more so. Was it going to help? Was it going to help the kavkema? Or was that just one more lie in his head?

Baishar buried his head under his arms and emitted a soft, high-pitched keen of distress. "I don't know." The dilemma burned in his mind, tore at the seams of his increasingly shaky foundations. "I don't know if—" He hesitated, the words caught in his chest, feeling too painful to speak. "—If I can trust you." Blunted claws dug at his scalp, as if feebly hoping to tear the confusion out by force. "What am I, to you? What would you put in place of what's there now?"

[00:56] In a cautious, slow, deliberately predictable motion, Valcen began to creep a little closer, transparently watching for signs of physical rejection or aggression as he did so. Calculating his way forward. Always calculating. One forepaw reached forward, trying to come close enough despite all that measured caution to touch Baishar's jaw, gently press a palm against his muzzle...

"I don't know yet, Baishar," Valcen said in obvious honesty. "I would need to take out the metaphorical screws and see what damage they've caused. But we could do it together. Discuss the changes."

It sounded sincere. It sounded as though he cared. And yet, it was exactly what someone hoping to trap Baishar might say. The Nayabaru didn't need to know about this little breakdown if Valcen could simply sweet-talk Baishar into the Torunyema. What did a promise of discussion mean if you were immobilised and helpless?

[01:39] Baishar made no effort to discourage Valcen's approach, the gentle contact welcomed by the part of him still insisting Valcen loves you, in spite of everything. I want to trust you. I want to believe you. Those thoughts grinded against their opposition, You're going to lie to me. You're going to take my soul away.

It didn't matter. Valcen already had laid claim to his soul; fighting against that was only making things worse. The thought struck him as both hopeless and freeing. It doesn't matter what you do, Valcen knows what he's doing. If he wants to ensnare you, he will succeed, one way or another. At least this way, you might have some hope of influencing the outcome.

There was another soft whimper of distress; Valcen felt tears run along the edge of his palm. Eventually, in a soft, broken-willed voice, Baishar whispered: "Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll— I'll let you." The terror was still there, but now mixed with a sense of hopelessness. There is nothing I can do to stop this.

[01:54] Following some irrelevant kavkem instinct, Valcen brought his own muzzle close to the damp feathers, trapping feathers between tongue and teeth, gently drawing the salt out of them. His other forepaw reached toward Baishar's neck, running claws through his mane. A soothing hum emanated from him, at impossible odds with the threat of the situation.

Then the preening stopped and Valcen brought his muzzle down to bump lightly but firmly against Baishar's chest, hoping to inspire him to move. It was, of course, one thing to accept the changes in theory and quite another to willingly walk to the Torunyema, but clearly that was what was expected of him. Clearly Valcen was not going to call for Tanak now.

§ 2020-02-01 19:21:26

[19:21] Now? Baishar cringed, curling in on himself. Valcen was asking him to walk into a trap of his own volition. Embracing the inevitable was much easier in theory than in practice. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. Valcen loves you, he won't hurt you, his mind insisted, in spite of everything. He's doing this for your own good. It's going to help you. He wanted to listen to it, and he wanted to do anything but listen to it.

There wasn't an alternative. He could do this now, and have a say in it, or do it later and not. Better to do it now.

With great effort, Baishar pushed himself up into a stand, his gaze downcast. He carefully avoiding looking directly at Valcen, but followed him with all the enthusiasm of a soulless automaton.

[19:51] If 'sha was concerned for Baishar's zombie state in any visceral way, there was nothing in his manner to show it. He didn't pause, didn't even anchor his gaze on Baishar to continually assess his body language; there was simply the gentle nudging, an occasional, humming nuzzle... and no strain for urgency.

Valcen-sha was leaving Baishar all the time he wanted to take to drown in anxiety and anticipation – simply suggesting he reduce the time to a minimum with his nudges.

The urge to flee, of course, increased as they passed into the Torunyema's Lair. It was impossible to ignore its presence; having no life of its own, inert by default, it should perhaps not have been a threat, like an abandoned blade was of no concern, but it was also a physical manifestation of Valcen's intention of using it. Just a few cuts here...

[20:10] And then he was beside the metal threat and it stopped mattering. With misleadingly gentle motions, 'sha shifted, finally pressing his flank to Baishar's, cautiously guiding him until there was no more space between him and the seat, coaxing Baishar into a dutiful but uncomfortable clamber over and onto it.

As Baishar reluctantly settled, 'sha began to run his hands down Baishar's right arm, finally clasping his fingers around it near the wrist, tugging it down to the straps that would hold it in place.

In theory Baishar could still rebel. In theory Baishar could still, in fact, do the polar opposite – yield and switch to his own interface vision, to guide his questionable mentor's first incarnation, once he appeared.

[21:33] Baishar managed to make it all the way to the edge of the Torunyema before the weight of what he was doing grew unbearable. You're placing your mind in the care of a Havnateh, and letting him do with it as he wishes. This wasn't what was supposed to happen here. This hadn't been the plan. He was supposed to convince Valcen to be changed. He was supposed to fix his mistake. Instead he was being gently pushed into being rewritten.

"Wait," he interjected as Valcen-sha pulled his wrist towards the first restraint — his arm tensing in resistance. "Just... Before you do this, can I talk to Valcen-za first?" It was only after he'd spoken it that he realized what an odd request it sounded like. Particularly if he wanted to do it alone, which he would. "...Please?" he added in meekly, hoping it might be enough.

[21:42] Valcen-sha's tugging on Baishar's wrist gentled and he glanced up at him in curiosity. "We need 'za anyway," he reminded, softly. "I can't fix this, not yet." He raised a forepaw to touch first at the lower edge of his left eye's socket, then the right. His tone was full of encouragement as he added: "Just be patient?", then began to tug the wrist back down.

[22:37] ... Of course. Baishar inwardly berated himself — between all the fear and desperation, he'd completely missed the obvious fact that Valcen-sha couldn't use the Torunyema. Meaning 'za would be the one editing his mind. A fresh lash of fear struck at his gut. Would Valcen-za honor Valcen-sha's promises? They were both Valcen, and 'za himself had said that 'sha's opinion took priority over his own.

On the dark side, that meant Valcen-za would likely take care to honor 'sha's promises — assuming they were meant truly. Nothing ever said Valcen would not lie. On the bright side, though, it also meant he probably couldn't convince 'za of anything without also convincing Valcen-sha.

You're going to erase me. I'll end up like Gazhil, or like Netami, or like any of your other victims. At once he believed it with all his heart and saw it for the absurdity it was. He wasn't going to end up like Gazhil. Valcen had no reason to do that to him, and Valcen, however he thought of Baishar, was reasonable. He was just going to remove the screws.

The strap slipped around his wrist, a promise of the gentle mutilations to come.

[22:57] The Torunyema's seat was not, strictly speaking, designed to be comfortable, but its subtle discomforts were hardly worth commenting on. Anyone sitting in it had bigger problems than whether or not the one or other feather had been pinched and their joints were misaligned. But 'sha was careful not to pinch Baishar's feathers, simply gradually securing him, lashing him to his fate.

Fingers would be free to wiggle, although without being able to transmit as much as a millimetre's shift up to his shoulders even with the greatest vehemence. Toes could still curl. One's tail could still swerve in agitation, barely restrained at all.

As Valcen pulled the straps around Baishar's trapped shoulders tight and began to tighten those around his feathery neck, a crisp memory lashed through Baishar, vivid reminder of the last time he'd been shackled this way: Wwwvvvalcen, please, I'm sorry, and its callous twin, I'm sure you are.

Yet even in that memory, there was a reassuring kernel. Then-Valcen had promised he wouldn't end up like Gazhil – and he hadn't. There was a vast intellectual gulf between Baishar after his Alignment and what had remained of Gazhil after he had been erased.

If Valcen promised to help him now, why would that promise any less truthful?

The muzzle straps pulled taut and 'sha spent precious seconds simply resting his own head against Baishar's as though in some instinctive kinship, breathing calmly, his physical proximity soothing. "I'll be back with 'za as soon as I can," he promised, softly. "You'll be okay," he purred encouragingly, rubbing his muzzle along the side of his neck.

§ 2020-02-02 17:23:52

[17:23] Valcen said he would help. Baishar clung to that thread of hope as Valcen diligently worked on securing him in the Torunyema, as he tried to maintain hold of his sanity. Valcen could lie, but he usually didn't. Didn't he? But then, if he would make Baishar falsely believe that Valcen loves you, what was to say he wouldn't make him falsely believe Valcen wants to help you.

He remembered the last time he was strapped into the Torunyema. He remembered being afraid. Was this that same fear? Or was it a different one? The last time, he'd begged for freedom, after making a horrible mistake. And even then, Valcen had left him intact. He'd left him with all of his mental faculties. He could still think, he could still question; in theory, he could still disobey.

Whereas this time he hadn't even done anything wrong. He'd agreed to this, even if that agreement was under duress. Valcen said he would help. Surely that meant even fewer changes were necessary.

Baishar closed his eyes as Valcen rested his head against his, the comforting gesture sorely needed. Valcen loves you. It was a seductive message, hard to resist in his current state. A soft keen, uncertain whether it was distressed or appreciative, spilled from Baishar's throat. You'll be okay. He desperately wanted to believe that.

[17:39] And then the comforting touch disappeared, leaving Baishar alone with his nagging anxieties. It wasn't altogether comforting that 'sha had thought it necessary to strap Baishar into place before fetching 'za to do the actual tweaking; there was an undercurrent of because you might run away, and we can't have that.

But it was no use worrying about it now. Valcen-sha slipped out of the doors, leaving Baishar to stew.

There was no sense of time – how many minutes was he waiting? How many minutes were reasonable to wait? Would Ryrha come to unstrap him if he willed it to happen? If he wailed, would someone hear him?

The anticipation gradually morphed into a dull, physical ache in Baishar's joints, into a reluctant discomfort strung through each breath. He couldn't descend into boredom, his kindled fears still too real, impossible to ignore, but the terror could hardly sustain itself without stimulus. The more time passed, the more it became physiological, draining out of his mind.

It was like a sickness living in his bones by the time 'za poked his head in the door.

Softly, audible only by merit of the room's perfect silence, Valcen-za addressed him: "Baishar." It was too soft to be sure, but it sounded as though he felt some measure of regret about the situation. He padded over in a pace that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to be swift or cautious, curious.

'sha trailed behind him, wordlessly.

"You're in pain," 'za observed, now close enough for his voice to register as something much like apology or pity. He stopped before him, looking directly at him, at about the right distance to interact with the Torunyema. 'sha was slinking past him, disappearing somewhere behind Baishar, registering to Baishar's wounded instincts as an ambush predator.

§ 2020-02-04 21:50:48

[06:08] The silence was overwhelming. He couldn't rid himself of the tension in his limbs. His thoughts ran in circles, carving a rut into his mind. Valcen was making a mistake. Baishar had to stop him from making a mistake. He had to fix the mistake he'd made, he had to convince Valcen to let him restore his empathy. Valcen had no interest in restoring his empathy. Valcen knew what he was doing. Valcen was going to destroy any desire

Baishar might have to fix his mistake. Valcen was going to destroy Baishar. He was in danger, he had to flee. Valcen loved him, Valcen would never hurt him. Valcen had to be protected. Valcen was making a mistake.

On and on this went, until the sound of his name sent a fresh wave of tension through Baishar — not that there were any easily visible signs of it, given how thoroughly immobilized he was. Both Valcens were here. Implying they thought they both needed to be here. Why?

At Valcen-za's observation, Baishar closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. You did this to me, a part of him wanted to scream. And you're going to do it again. Instead, all that came out was a high-pitched keen of distress. Please. Please let me change your mind. Please let me put you back together. On another level, Please put me back together.

He was too mentally exhausted to form a coherent argument. Even if he tried, even if he could get through, 'sha would kill any chance he had of convincing 'za. I can't fight you. I can't convince you. I can't even withstand you. Why did I ever think I could? He was past the event horizon; all futures led into Valcen's hands.

"What am I, Valcen?" he asked, the terror in his voice undistorted by the bindings. Tears began leaking from behind closed eyes. "What am I going to be?"

[22:37] Valcen-za's expression crinkled slightly – far too slightly, given the emotional payload contained in Baishar's remark. There was gentleness to his air, but gentleness alone simply did not suffice. The only adequate reaction to Baishar's terror would have been to unbind Baishar immediately and wrap him into affection.

This Valcen, however, the Valcen Baishar had shaped to his master's own specifications, only viewed the current situation as a regrettable intellectual exercise. "Hopefully less distressed," 'za offered, softly, in a voice pretending that it understood and cared. "But why the tears? Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

'sha's muzzle rubbed itself lightly against Baishar's side, a soothing gesture, out of place in the context of the threat hovering above Baishar, the threat soon guided by Valcen-za's hands. Loosely, 'sha's arms wrapped about his torso, head coming to rest against the side of Baishar's neck, breathing into the feathers. His presence whispered I'm here for you.

§ 2020-02-08 02:11:03

[02:11] Baishar tensed at 'sha's contact, attempting for a brief moment to twist and dislodge the unseen assailant. Comforting. Or at least, he was trying to be. It didn't fit with the looming threat. He loves you. And yet he knew that wasn't true.

"I don't know what you're going to do." A faint inkling, a thought that he'd dismissed long ago. As one might expect of Q'ur. Had Ryrha been right this entire time? Was this what the end of the cosmos looked like? Had the shearing of the skies so long ago been a sign of his arrival?

"Please, Valcen. I'm at your mercy. I've been loyal to you in spite of everything you've done." Because of everything you've done. "The least you could do is be honest. What am I to you? A slave? A puppet? A bundle of neurons, to shape to your will? Just tell me the truth, Valcen. I'm tired of lies."

[02:42] Valcen canted his muzzle in some curiosity. "You're my assistant," he said, as though it were the most natural designation in the world – as though a little perplexed, perhaps, that Baishar considered the other things options at all.

Without paying heed to what his own fingers were doing, Valcen started to tug at his necklace, silently retrieving the gloves from the slim container that held them.

"You have to understand," Valcen began, like someone telling a casual story. "When I first put those axioms into your head, you were, effectively, my first serious writing project. Erasing, as you know, is comparatively easy – truly shaping a mind takes a lot of finesse that I simply didn't have at the time.

"That doesn't excuse that I've torn that wound into your mind, but I think you're still lucid enough to appreciate why the early application is contributing to your distress and confusion. If I'd done a better job, these ideas would be seamlessly integrated, there would be no contradictions, you would not be in pain."

His right forepaw flexed slightly as he tugged its glove into place, his attention still rivetted to Baishar. Right; reading.

"Make no mistake, you might still have other principled issues with that, but you would not be in pain." A pause, just brief enough to be sure that Baishar had understood – or perhaps to assess something in his forcibly restrained body language. Then:

"Understand also, when I put those axioms in your head, I was guided by panic. You were a liability and my standing with the Nayabaru not yet established in any meaningful way.

"I didn't have a very good sense of what leeway I did and did not have with them; I didn't yet know what was likely to make them take you away from me, what was going to jeopardise Ryrha's freedom by sheer association, what the fallout would be for my own freedoms. I understand it better now and I can recognise that I tried to be too restrictive with you at the time.

"But even with that said, I don't think it was wholly... unnecessary. Still," he mused, mirroring the gestures on his left paw. Left; writing. "I imagine you'll unfortunately notice what I mean when I take those axioms out. But that is what you want, right?"

'sha was still effectively wrapped around Baishar, soft feathers pressed against soft feathers, but his hands had meandered away from a hug. His right hand stroked down Baishar's taut right arm, his left had reached back to soothingly pet at his thigh near the hip, gestures that whispered of close friendship.

[03:43] 'Assistant.' Baishar took a breath, trying to fit the notion into a place that made sense. Not amanat, much as his feelings wanted to insist that was true. Not even friend, not really. Nor was it slave or tool. Assistant. Cold, neutral, sterile. No room for empathy, no room for feelings one way or another. I did this to you. I did this to myself. You did this to yourself.

It was eerie hearing him speak about what he'd done. Erasing is easy. Was he still torn up inside about what he'd done to Gazhil, or was that merely an unfortunate loss of a backup now? He didn't dare to ask; he still remembered how terrifying an angered Valcen could be.

There would be no contradictions. Or, put another way, there would be no way for you to recognize the problem.

There was a moment of emotional whiplash at Valcen's final question. Is that what I want? Is that what you're offering me? For long moments, he was paralyzed, trying to process it. It felt like a trap. It felt like a test. And yet it was said with all the gravity of a genuine offer. This is what you wanted, wasn't it?

Baishar didn't know. He couldn't be sure of what he wanted; everything he'd once been had been forged at Valcen's hand into what he was now. He'd been a mess before; he'd nearly done something horrible out of desperation; the changes had been necessary for his own good. Did he really want to return to who he'd been before? Would he have learned his lesson? Would he try to hurt Valcen again?

[03:44] And yet he was a mess now. He could hardly think straight, his mind constantly at war with itself. He'd lost sight of what his goals had once been. Maybe returning to the Baishar he'd once been would remind him of what he wanted. Slowly, he managed a quiet, "I think so."

[04:27] 'sha shifted his weight against Baishar, right hand rising to first pet at the back of his head, then reach up a little further still to grasp at the Torunyema, tugging it down. "All right then," Valcen-za acknowledged softly, gesturing opaquely with his forepaws for a moment, a physical manifestation of inner pause.

Meanwhile, the maw of the device closed around Baishar's skull, pressing lightly against the bone.

In another gesture, 'za's eyes disappeared behind a darkness that refused to adopt any soothing connotation. With no perceptible delay, Valcen's right hand's thumb was on his palm, making practised, minimalist gestures as though flicking through Baishar's mind like through the pages of a book. Cycling back. Switching filters. Cycling forward.

'sha's right forepaw slipped back down, running fingers through Baishar's mane in the process. It settled on stroking feathered knuckles against his ribcage.

"So," 'za said, finally pausing his rapid paging. "There are three anchored thoughts in here.

"Though it may displease you, I refuse to remove one of those in this particular session – that I know what I'm doing. It's not a lie; it's a promise and an assurance and one you need right now. If you want, we can remove it at a later point in time, but if I remove it now along with all others, the problems will outweigh the benefits.

"The one that'll be easiest to strip first is that I ought to be protected. Your recent thought processes haven't completely hollowed out the supportive mental landscape around that, it's still quite in tact and won't rebound. So I'll do that first," he explained, in the tone of the patient teacher that Baishar had once cherished. "Is that an acceptable first step?"

[05:14] Baishar tried his hardest to remain calm as the Torunyema's jaws gently closed around his skull, as Valcen's eyes transformed into inky pools of darkness, as he paged through Baishar's mind like an open book. Valcen-sha's gentle presence was... not exactly helpful, but at least provided a distraction that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Valcen-za's suggestions sounded... reasonable, as much as anything about the situation could be reasonable. Though in his state he was still trying to poke holes in everything Valcen said. If it was a lie, would you even tell me? he thought, briefly, before realizing: Of course he would. Valcen hadn't hidden the nature of his deception; he had no reason to. He had no reason to lie to him now about this.

...And yet the contrast with Valcen should be protected was stark. That was something he was willing to remove? Had that also been a lie? Hadn't that been the realization that led to him enormously regretting what he'd done?

It sounded dangerous to let himself loose from that. And yet it had always been difficult to reason about; it was inelegant. Surely Valcen could do better, a part of him reasoned, sending a chill down his spine. After all, he knows what he's doing. "Okay. If... if you think that's safe."

[05:53] The pause in Valcen-za was clearly a gesture of courtesy – a chance for Baishar to change his mind, to shout 'wait!' in a last moment's regret. When none came within the allotted time span, those practised gestures resumed, delicately orchestrating their first incision.

As 'za's left forepaw folded its thumb against its palm, 'sha slid his arms around Baishar's torso again, mumbling the softest, soothing sounds into his feathers.

Then the precision flick of 'za's wrist uprooted the treasured axiom, abruptly leaving Baishar with one less pressing goal, and the uncomfortable sensation that his current entrapment in the Torunyema didn't get him any further toward any of those that remained, other than to stay in Valcen's good graces and retain his freedoms to learn what he wished.

But Valcen loved him (even if he rationally knew it was false), which made the discrepancy acceptable, his current focus bearable, the situation unpleasant but not inherently panic-inducing.

But that was next. There was no way around it.

"The goal we're pursuing here is to have something stable and reliable that you yourself can live with," 'za summarised 'sha's earlier musings, transplanting the arguments into the current frame of reference. "I want you to be acutely aware that you are, at present, in the heart of Katal."

...of course, if he truly, dearly wanted to, he could make Baishar be acutely aware of it, but it would defeat the point of the exercise.

"I want you to be aware that you are enjoying certain freedoms and access to technology thanks to the tentative generosity of the Nayabaru, in turn at the behest of the Karesejat Terenyira.

"I want you to be aware that, not to beat around the bush, the Karesejat Terenyira is my direct enemy in nearly any sense of the word. In consquence, we are deep in the heart of enemy territory."

More 'paging', perhaps to check whether Baishar was thinking about their circumstances strongly enough, perhaps to verify what had happened after the removal of the first axiom, perhaps to reacquire his next target.

"And I want you to be aware that you are going to rebound on the next axiom. There's no use leaving it in – it's the cause for your distress now, you've explicitly made note of it when you came to 'sha about your programming.

"When I remove the emotional certainty you have that I love you, Baishar, your mind isn't going to return to neutral grounds. That notion is going to invert.

"I need you to understand, here and now, before I pluck the thought out of your mind, that you are going to be convinced I'm here to harm you. You will have to fight that. It'll be hard, but that's the only way we're going to be able to talk about what other changes to make, going forward.

"Be ready to observe your reality. Truly observe. Don't let it seduce you into easy answers. Sift through the evidence: If I wanted to turn you into mindless wreck, I certainly could, but it would be a transparent waste of time to talk to you about other changes first. If I wanted to harm kavkema first and foremost, I would use these tools to twist their senses into raw agony.

"I can do these things, but I never have, and I won't start now – but understand that your mind is going to push very, very hard for deceptively simple narratives like that. I want you to be intellectually prepared for that; I can't prepare you emotionally," Valcen explained.

The calm words seemed at odds with what he was suggesting, at further odds with those disconcerting eyes, peering into a completely different reality as they were.

§ 2020-02-15 02:01:55

[02:01] The sudden absence of the axiom was jarring, like a ringing in his ears that had only just now stopped. He could still form the thought 'Valcen should be protected', but it no longer felt true. It was unsettling; being cut loose from something that moments ago had been dear to him.

In its absence Baishar found the question: What else that I care about could he remove? And a moment later, the obvious answer: Everything.

But Valcen loved him; he wouldn't take everything from him. Even if he didn't actually love him.

It took conscious effort to drag his attention away from the bizarre sensation of freedom and to listen to Valcen's words. That he was in the heart of Katal was obvious; it was often hard not to be keenly aware of that, though why that was relevant wasn't immediately clear. The revelation that his feelings were going to invert drove a wire of distress into him, though.

[02:02] For a long moment, Baishar simply tried to unpack that. I'm going to believe Valcen hates me. It felt deeply alien, it felt wrong; even at the darkest of his thoughts he couldn't ever believe that Valcen wished him harm. And yet, Valcen knew what he was talking about. It was a risk... though a risk to what he had a hard time identifying. To staying in Valcen's good graces, perhaps.

He tried to imagine what that state might be like; tried to pick it apart. What if he believed Valcen wanted to hurt him? It was obviously wrong, but why? It felt wrong, but all of his feelings were (apparently) about to change. Nothing in his head was going to stay fixed in place; that was the whole point of this. It was just like Valcen said: He had to observe his reality.

All of Valcen's arguments were convincing. But would they be convincing to future-Baishar? That was the problem. If Valcen wanted to hurt you, he could do it. He tried to focus on that thought, as absurd as the hypothesis seemed to him. Baishar himself knew how the Torunyema worked, at least at a broad level. He knew what it enabled, what fine-grained control Valcen had. He knew what Valcen was capable of, both in principle and in practice.

And for all of the terror that Valcen's presence held, he had never caused agony to his victims. Only subservience. The very first night, Baishar had said he would do what Valcen asked of him; and Valcen had asked much less than what his imagination of a Havnateh might expect.

Maybe those thoughts would be enough. Maybe those would be enough to keep him grounded in reality. "Okay," he finally said softly. "I think I— I'm as ready as I can be." He closed his eyes, and braced himself against the brittle, hastily-constructed mental framework.

[02:51] A stern hesitance touched Valcen's air, symptom of a deep scepticism.

For a moment, he let one forepaw rise and linger near his left eye, as though tempted to cycle back to real vision and assess the situation – but of course it wasn't necessary. Valcen-sha could be his eyes – his paws, in fact, given how snugly he was wrapped around Baishar, how intimately he could feel Baishar's very heartbeat.

Valcen-sha wasn't telling him to abort.

Baishar's own concerns were invisible in the mental landscape – not for lack of not being picked up by the Torunyema, but for simply engaging predominantly with parts of his psyche not currently in view. And yet, it was clear that Baishar wasn't ready. The question was whether he was simply indeed as ready as he would ever be.

Then the moment of concern was over, replaced with brutal pragmatism: Every second of delay was likely going to corkscrew Baishar's anxieties into a worse knot, increasing the promised psychological whiplash. He could see the foundations of the axioms continue to erode, nibbled on by tiny rivulets of doubt and uncertainty.

They had surely left it too late, but if they wanted to do something about it, it was now or never.

He brought up his hands with a tense sigh, focussing on the task at hand. "Brace for it," he said, without much inflection, reaching into the tangles without further delay and snapping the lonely, unnaturally sturdy monolith from the mental tree.

Everything changed.

A familiar sensation surged through him – that sense of dread Baishar had wrestled with each time he woke from a nightmare, each time the soothing lull of his dreamself was replaced with his waking mind, abruptly aware of the horrors of the dream, finally recognising them for what they were.

This time, the feeling drowned him. This time, it clutched at his throat, the whole construct inverting and threatening to cascade into a panic: You're trapped in the nightmare. The nightmare is real. The nightmare is right in front of you; the nightmare is embracing you. You can't wake up, no matter how hard you try.

The creature before him, black eyes and all, was a havnateh – fallen, perhaps, still seeking its full potential, but a havnateh nonetheless. A protégé of Terenyira's. An entity whose plans had no room for any concerns for kavkema. Objectively, an entity who had chosen to excise what little empathy he'd had for the kavkema.

There was something he had been meant to remember, but his instincts had quarantined it immediately – whatever instructions he had been left with by this imitation of a kavkem could only be toxic, an obvious threat.

Vasharesh. Never before had the outside world's name for Valcen rang this true. The fear Netami had felt, the fear Gazhil must have felt, the fear, no doubt, that he had felt once before, manifested as a poison and tangibly ate away at Baishar's vision.

The simulacrum's simulacrum's arms tightened around him as though to constrict his breathing.

[03:42] Baishar's heartbeat hammered in his skull with every second of delay. He had to focus on the truth: If Valcen wanted to, he could hurt Baishar. He hadn't done so, therefore he didn't want to. He repeated it to himself as a mantra, clinging to the rigid logic as if for dear life.

Finally, Valcen-za spoke; and as if speaking words of power, the spell he'd cast on Baishar broke. His awareness sheared; the nightmare came to life and swallowed him whole.

Betrayal.

There was no other word for what he felt. He'd been lied to, he'd been manipulated, his soul had been mangled beyond recognition. Valcen had wanted to hurt Baishar, and so he had. The dreams had been a clue, a crucial one, one he'd been too blinded by false love to recognize until too late. They'd painted for him the truth that Valcen's lies had tried to hide.

The truth that all he had done had been at Vasharesh's whim. This was a trap; he'd walked in of his own volition. The removal of the few emotional ties Vasharesh's shell had to the kavkema. The continuation of his and Ryrha's services, to help him construct a new shell to inhabit. Even their first meeting, filled with false promises that things would eventually get better; the imagined promises of knowledge, of learning the secrets of crafting qidravema. It had all been a trap; it had all been a mistake.

What could one do, though, when faced with a Havnateh who could control his every thought? Indeed, why would a Havnateh who could control his every thought let him be fully aware of this fact, if not simply to prove he could do so?

"Don't," he started, a single syllable not quite fully thought out yet. A moment later, the begging began: "Please. Please. Please don't. I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't do this. Let me go, please. Anywhere but here. Send me back to the Pens if you have to, just no more. No more of this." Tears leaked from tightly-shut eyes; fingers clung to the frame of the Torunyema.

[03:57] The black-eyed monster stared into no man's land, bringing both of his forepaws up to each touch a finger against his lip in some foreign gesture of contemplation. A trace of displeasure infected his posture, its obviousness searing through Baishar's mind, a kernel convinced it had said the precisely wrong thing.

"Baishar," the havnateh spoke, as if mortal names meant anything to it, tone one of strained patience. "Do you remember what I told you? About the rebound?" A question from another world, ridiculous in the current context. "Analyse the situation, calm down, and speak to me with your intellect, not your raw instincts."

The havnateh's second incarnation shifted against him, almost enveloping his body. The closeness was soothing, but all wrong, wrong, wrong, ringing through his thoughts like the caress of sandpaper. A sound part hum, part purr vibrated against Baishar, as though this two-bodied creature was no longer interested in maintaining the cheap pretense that it regretted his terror.

§ 2020-02-15 20:32:03

[20:32] Rebound? Analyze? Vasharesh spoke in a voice tinged with disappointment, willfully blind to his obvious distress. Distant, uncaring. What hope did Baishar have against such a being? A distant memory: Valcen could be reasoned with. And yet wasn't it that poisonous thought that had gotten him here in the first place? That blind faith that a Havnateh would bother listening to a foolish kavkem's reason?

This is all my fault. I should never have accepted your poisoned offer. At least the Nayabaru could only mangle his body.

If there was one thing that the Havnateh was right about, though, it was that panic wouldn't get him out of here. He held himself still, forcing himself to take deep breaths, trying to ignore the faux-soothing motions of Vasharesh's second incarnation. I know this is a lie, stop pretending you care.

There was no plan for escape. Briefly, he considered shouting for Ryrha to help, but that would only end in them both being destroyed. Ryrha. The past months came rushing back to him in a wave of guilt, all his mistakes and missteps obvious now in hindsight. You were right. You were right all along. I'm sorry I didn't trust you.

No, the only way out of this was through. Begging would not help; Vasharesh had said as much. Reason. The term flooded through his synapses, carrying with it a white-hot rage. Fine. I'll give you reason.

"'Observe my reality,'" Baishar paraphrased, a thin layer of venom coating the phrase. "That is what you want me to do. Yes? Here, let me tell you what I observe.

"Since I agreed to your terms, you have built a machine to enslave kavkema to you. You have done this to me, and to countless others. You have used me to butcher a Ryrhakenem's soul. You have used me to remove your empathy so that you can do this more effectively. You are creating a portable version of this machine, and giving it to the Nayabaru.

"You have insisted that all of these evils add up to a greater good, for they allow you to execute a plan you will not share. But I have no means to observe whether this is true. All I observe is that every thing you have done has made the kavkema worse off.

"And I have helped you do these things. By accepting your offer, I have made the kavkema worse off." The thought of it sickened him, threatened to overwhelm his desperately-maintained calm.

After a few moments, he quietly added: "It is clear now that you will not let me fix my mistakes; so instead I must prevent my future ones. I will have no more part of this. Send me back, or—- or erase me."

[21:16] Valcen took the verbal abuse without as much as flinching – either he'd expected a rant like this, or, more likely from Baishar's perspective, he simply didn't care about the accusation.

From Valcen's perspective, the current situation was simply as shattered glass he'd been tasked with putting back together.

From his perspective, Baishar's focus was, understandably, in the wrong spot. He was supposed to be looking at this very situation; a lucid Baishar would know that he was being treated courteously, despite the restraints, and that this was the result of his own wishes, and that this did not mesh with the picture he was painting, however much he was painting it with other truths.

Quietly, to himself, he pondered if there was much of a point in engaging Baishar with discussion. On the one hand it seemed the only sustainable way out of this – getting Baishar to accept his situation, understand his role, all without mental tampering.

On the other hand it was tedious, error-prone, and Baishar was in the worst possible emotional state for it.

"Probably not," Valcen-sha muttered into Baishar's shoulder, answering the unspoken question.

Valcen-za, still oblivious to anything but the raw, unfiltered display of Baishar's abstract thoughts, grimaced lightly. This Baishar wanted to be returned to the Pens, or erased. The Baishar from earlier, however, the one who's wishes he was trying to respect to the best of his abilities, though...

"No," he said, with a sigh and the tone of an ominously firm finality. "I will do neither of these destructive things – in the same way you would not give a rock to a kavkem hallucinating that it is a tasty meal and pining for it." His words came sharply delineated, each spoken with the precision of a scalpel.

"If it's any consolation," he mused, detachedly, his tone chilling, and started to rapidly manipulate his view of Baishar's mind, proving just how much more efficient he had become. "You may call upon those options again, later." The motions stopped abruptly as if they had been driven by his speech – then a writing wrench put an end to conversation.

It was as though Valcen had hurled a knot of alien pleasure against Baishar's skull and it had come apart in shards that scattered against his spine and lodged into his skin. It tore Baishar's panic into a sea of sensation to drown, eclipsing his thoughts. His body tensed in some misplaced instinct trapped halfway between ecstatic, physical joy and existential fear.

Valcen-sha sighed softly against the captive, his breath subtly disturbing feathers, the sensation mingling with the unnatural electricity threaded through Baishar's sense of touch. He shifted, pushing his forepaws down and back, slipping them in between the captive kavkem's legs to touch his claws, ever so gently, against the inside of his thighs.

The tiny fragment of lucidity left to Baishar identified it as a dangerous distraction, but its magnitude was too great as that he could effectively fight it. It crushed his objections to a fine dust.

[22:45] The cold, detached silence — those black eyes staring into another reality — was the only answer Baishar needed, to know his words had fallen on deaf ears. Logic would not sway Vasharesh; emotion would not sway him; nothing would sway him. To have ever thought otherwise was a mistake. The pact was irreversible, much as he regretted making it now. When the verbal answer finally came after an agonizing silence, it dispelled any remaining doubt.

He wasn't hallucinating. He was lucid; he knew all he had said was true. The conclusion was the only reasonable one — if he couldn't fix his mistakes, the only morally acceptable option was to prevent them from repeating. It didn't matter. Vasharesh owned his soul, and would do with it as he saw fit. As if to prove this, the hands began moving again, striking fear deep into Baishar's heart. No, please—

Before he had so much as a chance to protest, the wave of pleasure crashed against his thoughts, wrenching a sudden gasp from the captive kavkem. Coherence dissolved like sand, the electric tingle scattered through his skin slowly washing his thoughts away. Too late, he recognized the threat of it, tried to defend against it, but it was like trying to hold back the ocean. A sound something like a "Nooo" escaped his throat, but it turned into a plaintive mewl, uncertain whether it was distressed or elated.

[22:46] Then the gentle brush of claws against his inner thighs elicited a moan from him, the sensations drowning what remained of conscious thought. He pressed himself against the frame of the Torunyema, the warmth within his slit all too eager to emerge.

[00:34] There was still motion at the edge of his perception – the havnateh, doing something to his mind, somewhere in the distant, abstract reaches of it, to those parts irrelevant to his current pleasure. Valcen-sha was dutifully tending to latter, doing his part to soothe Baishar's panicked state, light touch migrating to run the joints of his fingers through the warm pouch of skin.

But whatever mutilation Valcen was inflicting on his psyche, it couldn't be too bad – the horror of the situation was beginning to melt away, slowly inverting into a deep yearning that felt more natural for the physical attention he was getting.

There was still a kernel distressed by the change, by the sheer force of the sensory overload, dimly aware that he hadn't asked for this, that he had asked for something else entirely and it was being denied to him, that he was simply being shaped to suit Valcen's whims again, that nothing had been gained and everything had been lost.

But Valcen knew what he was doing. That had never changed. Even at the height of his doubts, Baishar hadn't questioned that axiom – it was the most natural of the three, the one most obviously true.

There was something deeply pleasing about being gently reconfigured by someone who knew what they were doing. It mingled with the unbidden pleasure and stabbed through his gut, corkscrewing through him in a tightening loop. He couldn't remember this feeling from his first Alignment, this twisted thrill, but he didn't want to trade it away.

[00:35] The unnatural flood of sensation itself was ebbing enough to let him think, but it came too late to mount a defence. The jaws of the construct snapped shut, delivering him into Valcen's clutches: The notion that he would defy Valcen, for any reason, became inherently distressing, a threat to their relationship that he knew he had already dangerously tested in the past.

It was good Valcen was willing to forgive him his slights. It was good that he knew how to fix him.

That Valcen was a terrifying havnateh didn't factor in negatively at all; instead it underlined the legitimacy of Baishar's subservience. Who better to worship than an actual god? Who better to subscribe one's life to? Who better to serve than someone who could teach Baishar all he wanted to know?

Yet he'd almost thrown it away. He'd almost given up that privilege, but Valcen had, in his gracious benevolence, denied him the self-destruction. The part of Baishar capable of clearest thought remembered what Valcen had said about Ryrha: And thus I've taken to protecting Ryrha from herself. Now, here, he was doing the same for Baishar.

There was so much he might yet achieve with the knowledge he was gaining. They were under Nayabaru supervision, but they had greater access to their technology than any kavkem in the history of the species as a whole had ever had, and with Valcen's knowledge they could still achieve so much.

No, the more Baishar realised what he had nearly cast aside in his earlier, misguided desperation, the more he understood: If they wanted to persevere and advance, sacrifices had to be made. It was best to minimise them, of course. There was nothing inherently pleasant about the sacrifices.

But if the choice came down to either gaining more knowledge to potentially break the whole rotten culture of the Nayabaru from within, or saving a handful of lone kavkema who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, former was surely to be preferred.

It didn't even truly matter whether Valcen had the same goal or only one vaguely adjacent to it. What mattered is that he was willing to share his knowledge and willing to tend to Baishar, for the low price of his complete submission.

As if to underline the insight, 'sha pressed against Baishar, easing flesh against flesh. The whole thing was overwhelming, it was too much at once, his mind reeled with implication, with yearning, with a deep regret, but it was eclipsed by his awareness of Valcen's forgiveness, manifesting as this physical tenderness.

§ 2020-02-18 01:38:28

[01:38] It was impossible to tell whether the gradual dissolution of his panic was from the alien pleasure, from 'sha's gentle motions, or from his mind being rearranged. The last one ought to be causing panic, some part of him dimly insisted. There was a vague sense that it wasn't supposed to be happening; that this wasn't what he'd asked for. But the pain and fear were slowly being purged out; everted into a sense of belonging, of excitement, of desire.

It occurred to him that no, he was wrong, this was what he'd asked for. He'd come into the Torunyema willingly; he'd allowed Valcen to access his mind, to fix his problems. He'd been broken before, and Valcen was fixing him. There was something that felt inherently right about his situation, about being put back together by someone who knew how to set things right, a novel feeling that settled in between all the sources of pleasure and made itself at home.

As the overwhelming sensation faded, a part of him had the sense that this new feeling was different, that it didn't belong... but he couldn't possibly bring himself to want it taken out, any more than he could ask to have his arm removed. He cradled the newfound feeling, nurturing it. It's okay. You are a strange new feeling, but I will make sure you come to belong.

Slowly, the world faded back in around the edges; Valcen-za's gazeless gaze before him. The eyes of a god — of one he'd promised to serve. That, too, felt right; who else could he serve? Surely not the Karesejat. Surely not the Nayabaru. Himself? He barely knew what he was doing; left to his own devices he'd become lost, he'd stray from the true path. Valcen knew what he was doing, knew how to help him achieve all he hoped for.

And all he'd asked in return was complete obedience. It seemed like such a simple, natural thing to give; a small price for the reward of knowledge, of continued access to the Nayabaru's technology, of even a limited form of freedom within Katal. Within Katal, of all places! Here, this god had carved out a tiny pocket of safety within living Tkanala.

That he'd nearly discarded all of that in a fit of misguided desperation felt like a terrible insult — to himself, and to Valcen. But all was well. Valcen forgave him. Valcen had fixed the problem. Not out of love — he knew Valcen felt none for him, that was the entire point of all this — but at least out of a sense that Baishar was useful.

That final thought mingled with the raw ecstasy still thrumming in his synapses. I'm useful to Valcen. As 'sha pressed against him and he moaned in arousal, that thought burned itself deep into his mind. I'm useful to Valcen. Useful enough that he's willing to forgive my faults; that he's willing to guide me; that he's willing to fix me when I break.

[01:39] At the end of the day, what more could he ask for than that?

[02:14] Everything was right – every strap that held him, every whispered touch, every emotion, every thought, every sensation.

The havnateh had eased into a docile stand, fingers loosely held against each other, watching Baishar's reactions and thoughts unfold in a different universe altogether – like an orchestration, a complex work of art, woven from the strands of the changes he'd made.

There were no contradictions this time – no obvious loop-holes, no sources of existential horror between the pillars of instilled truth. Baishar's new eagerness formed the seed of its own reenforcement, smoothing the gradients between contradicting thoughts into no more cognitive dissonance than an average kavkem might possess.

Baishar had grown up with Leksharia-Dynashari – but now he was the first disciple of Vasharesh. There was no name for what he believed in, but it was the right thing to believe. Vasharesh was a tangible god – whether Baishar referred to such as 'Threadwielders' or not – and Baishar was in the enviable position that his contributions were equally tangibly valuable to his deity.

A god of knowledge almost beyond comprehension. A god of strategy, drawing his plans in the long-term, strictly quarantining them even from his trusted assistants. A god of the mind and soul, whose benevolence came in his willingness to share what he knew.

Gradually, 'sha was letting his attention wane, simply letting the pleasure in Baishar's gut melt into a mere deep, physical satisfaction. His muzzle, having dipped down to run its tongue against Baishar's heat, was now straightening itself back out, lightly rubbing against Baishar's neck again. Softly: "Do you feel better now?"

Valcen-za was still only watching with his black eyes, assessing the stability of Baishar's new convictions with an alien patience and precision.

§ 2020-02-22 20:07:16

[20:07] Baishar's initial response was a low, contented moan, his thoughts still gathering themselves. "Yes," he replied quietly, still caught in the haze of it all.

Moments later, he actually thought about the question. Did he feel better now? It was almost impossible to believe he didn't, but it still felt like something he should be sure of. How had he felt before? Confused, afraid, filled with a psychological pain. He recalled begging to be sent back to the Pens, a thought that now seemed incomprehensible. Why would he ever abandon his one chance to matter?

He remembered being terrified by Valcen's actions. That was comprehensible; without sight of the big picture it was easy to lose one's way. He'd lost sight of the scale of what they could accomplish. He needed to be patient like Valcen was; a few generations of suffering would be painful to witness, but if afterwards they could accomplish the impossible, it would be worth it.

He remembered being terrified by Valcen himself. That, too, was understandable. Valcen very well could be terrifying — he remembered the rage he saw after Gazhil, the venom when he'd nearly destroyed the Torunyema, the cold indifference at his recent distress. But in every case it had been due to Baishar's own faults. It had been easy to forget that Valcen was terrifying; most of the time he wasn't. Now it was tied to his obedience; it was impossible to forget. Valcen was terrifying, he was powerful, he was generous, he was forgiving. He was all of these things and more.

"Yes," he repeated, the muscles in his neck tensing in an attempt to shake his muzzle in affirmation. "Much better." He closed his eyes for a long moment, simply enjoying the Torunyema's unyielding grasp. Then, in a tone filled with curiosity: "What did you do?"

[20:22] "Literally made you more comfortable with your situation," Valcen-za revealed. "Hopefully that will put a stop to any future panic. Neither of us can afford you emotionally eroding away again." He reached forward, unclasping the Torunyema from its prey, then began to peel his gloves off.

"I expect you to report instabilities like this to me sooner the next time it threatens to happen. There's no reason to let it get out of hand when we have the tools we do." His voice was even, not stern, but it was still a crisply clear command, leaving no wiggle room for his subservient minion.

In the meantime, Valcen-sha tugged on some of Baishar's feathers with his maw in a gesture of friendly intent, then slowly began to lean to one side and unpick the tight strap around Baishar's wrist.

[21:13] The order sent a shiver of excitement down Baishar's spine. "Of course," he replied, almost instinctively. He closed his eyes, focusing on the command, cherishing it. Tell Valcen about future instabilities. He let it sink in, doing his best to bind it to his unflinching desire for subservience.

As Valcen-sha began working on the strap, a thought occurred to him: Just my own instabilities? Discomfort began to gnaw at him. What about Ryrha's? Ryrha was planning to defy Valcen; she'd wanted him to meddle with Valcen-za's personality. It was dangerous, it was terrifying; he couldn't let that happen.

"Um," he started, trying to find the words. "Valcen, I..." It felt terrible, like admitting betrayal. But it wasn't, he hadn't betrayed Valcen; he'd only thought about it. "I have a confession to make." Guilt knotted up in his gut.

"...Some time after 'sha's creation, I told Ryrha about the changes I made to your empathy." It hadn't been a horrible idea, in principle; Valcen had even told him it was okay to share the information after it was done. "And she didn't take it well. She... wanted to undo it. She wanted me to undo it." Unspoken, but implied: And I thought it was a good idea at the time.

"...She was desperate to do something to stop you. And I... much as I appreciate my current state, I don't think she will take it well."

[21:31] 'za was making a gesture as if to dismiss Baishar's remarks – it's not a problem, it isn't even a past mistake, it's perfectly acceptable – when arrested by 'desperate to do something to stop you'. For a moment, he simply held himself still, rolling the statement around in his mind, as though observing it from all angles.

Then he thawed back into motion, tucking his gloves back into their container and switching his eyesight back to photonic vision. "How 'desperate' are we talking about?" he asked, conversationally – but there was no masking that any further conversation would doom Ryrha to some form of consequences she would likely fundamentally disagree with.

Realistically, though, she was a threat. Realistically, they had to do something about her sooner rather than later.

'sha had only slightly paused in his unlatching of Baishar. Both of Baishar's hands were free now – in theory he could reach up and free his own muzzle and neck from the restraints, while 'sha tended to his ankles and torso.

[22:32] For whatever reason, Baishar made no particular motions to free himself from the Torunyema; perhaps he was simply content to remain there until 'sha finished releasing him and told him to leave. Or perhaps it was out of concentration on his struggles with 'za's question: How desperate?

How did one measure desperation? How did one measure desperation in another person, without knowing their innermost thoughts? With a Torunyema, of course, came the obvious answer. But if Valcen was asking, it meant he was expecting an answer. He knew Baishar was a limited mortal; so he knew it would only be an approximate answer.

What would Ryrha do? It was hard to say for certain. But a memory of something she'd said floated to the surface: It is central to Dynash that we are willing to give up ourselves if we can improve the situation for the kavkema as a whole.

"I cannot say for certain," Baishar replied, tone cautious. "But... if she had the opportunity to stop you — to stop the use of the Torunyema, or the Imitorunyema project — if she thought she could improve the situation for the kavkema, I would be surprised if she didn't try. Even if it meant a life of constant torture afterwards."

There was a hesitation to his words. At some level, he still liked Ryrha; she was still important, if to a much lesser degree than Valcen was. But... if she was a threat, she was a threat. Sacrifices had to be made. At the end of the day, Ryrha was only a kavkem, like Netami or all the countless others.

[22:51] 'za sighed deeply, like someone who had just been tasked with a particularly tedious and unwelcome chore. But what he said was strange. "She's almost a calendar too late for that," he said, wearily, reaching his forepaws to Baishar's muzzle to unstrap it.

For that moment, it felt as though 'za was speaking Leksharia between the lines: The Progression inevitably hurls us toward the incomprehensible, every potential transformation looming like a threat, a harrowing disfigurement. And how it had disfigured them both so far, carving at their very souls to discard what they previously hadn't recognised as waste.

Then the last of the neck straps released Baishar and 'sha was withdrawing from his strange embrace. "Bring her here," 'za said, his voice impossibly gentle for what he was implying. "Let's hear what she has to say about it."