Drown

§ 2020-02-22 22:57:25

[22:58] Those black eyes had never made sense. She had seen them once, but they disturbed her, refusing to adopt the soothing connotation of deep night. But she had them all figured out now – they were dark because the light poured into them and never left. And light, that much Ryrha knew in her dream, was not the only thing that disappeared into those eyes.

She had crowded herself under one of Valcen's desks in his office, huddling into the corner, a bin concealing much of her body. He would inevitably find her, but she could keep her soul a little longer if she hid here. He would search the Den thoroughly, then the facilities they had cursory access to through Tanak's authority, and only then suspect his prey in his own territory.

And so she hid and recalled the stories she knew while they were still hers.

It didn't take long for the time to come to an end. When the door opened, she tensed in misguided instinct – there was no fighting Vasharesh and no fleeing from his gaze now. There was nothing she could do to stop a nascent god. Katal was his egg and some day, he would burst from it and claim the world.

Her breathing was imperceptibly shallow – she knew to keep herself still, to stay disciplined even in the face of fear. There was a small chance he might simply pass her by without noticing she was here, then resume his search elsewhere.

He stopped beside the table. She kept herself perfectly still, her skin crawling with terror. Did he know? Did he suspect?

Then his muzzle dipped down and two black eyes fixed on her with an expression of curiosity, gently sinking their invisible claws into her skull, crushing her breath out of her lungs; she fell into those eyes, streaming forward like a river, dissolving into mindlessness—

Her mind snapped back into reality, to a vaguely similar visual pattern: Baishar and Valcen-sha were here, paused at a respectful distance, staring down at her. She glanced up at them with a carefully measured body language, refusing to reveal how her mind was drawing ever-increasing parallels to a nightmare they hadn't witnessed.

But they were here for a reason and she could think of no pleasant one that required both of them.

Privately, she theorised that it had been an error to attempt to recruit Baishar, regardless how distressed he had seemed at the time – although her plans would have hardly made any sense without his help, as she couldn't affect Valcen-za's mind at all. Unlike Baishar, she had never been instructed in the art of shattering people's souls.

"...is it that time already?" she asked, softly, tiredly.

[23:40] Baishar felt a pang of regret at that question, at the certainty it implied. We all know what's going to happen next. It roiled in his gut, tugging at the edges of his newly-rearranged mindset, but the mental structure held fast. Valcen had ordered him to bring Ryrha to him; and Baishar would obey. As long as he kept that in mind, maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Valcen-za wants to see you," he replied, tone neutral. It's going to be okay. Valcen knows what he's doing. "...Will you come with us?" It was a rhetorical question, of course; the answer was 'yes'. It was only a question of whether she would come willingly, or if Tanak would end up being involved.

[23:44] She stared at them uncomprehendingly, as though they were speaking in a language she had never learnt, or of things that were physically impossible. Silently, she mouthed will I come with you?, making no particular secret of her mind's sluggish engagement with the question.

But indeed, there could only be one answer. "...sure." Nothing to it. Simply submit to summary execution.

Blessed with an intimate understanding of one's grisly fate, one could face it with dignity and grace. She knew how to do this and during all this time, she had kept her pride, her calm air. She had no real interest in stopping now. So she rose with them, dipped her muzzle in a gesture of submission, and followed them.

But as they passed through the door of the Den and into the lobby, Dynash sank its fangs into her with full force, like a dying animal. The sudden fire surged through her soul, wrenching her out of her passivity, knowing that this was the only chance she would get to save herself.

It was ludicrous to think she could fight her way to the surface, escape from Katal, but Dynash wanted to hear none of it. She separated from 'sha and Baishar in a sudden motion, as though bucking out of invisible restraints, and ran.

'sha was shouting something after her before even beginning pursuit. There was hardly much of anywhere she could flee to – the stairs wound up and out of the basement of Katal and toward the Pens proper. She galloped up them, barely thinking, her attention on precision movements and any architectural opportunities of escape.

When Tanak appeared in the first corridor, at its end splitting into a curved path around the infirmary and an orthogonal path lancing into the heart of the Pens, her feathers puffed and her lips drew back from her weak teeth, ready to bite the Hesh if he dared to stand in her way.

And he did dare. With an alien calm, not at all like a descendant of ancestral prey, he shifted his hold on the spear-like weapon of the Hesha, shifted to the side as though to let her pass, then swept the rod down in a rapid, crippling motion. It struck her limbs even as she sprang to avoid it, the barbed hook at the end biting at her left knee as her leg caught against it.

Then the moment was over and she hit the ground like a sack of feathers. An instant of terror flashed through her, her awareness of Tanak looming over her and twisting the weapon into a different grip eclipsing everything else. Then Dynash returned to claim her and she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain throbbing through her joints.

But despite his size, Tanak was faster – he had been trained for this, he practised it ruthlessly, and there was visible joy in his air that she was giving him the opportunity to prove his worth – and brought the trident-hook to smack the back of its clawed end against her muzzle almost with enough force to give her a concussion.

Her neck slipped between the spear tip and the curve of one of the claws as Tanak rammed the implement into the ground, jolting sharp pain up her senses as part of her neck – mostly feathers, but also a sliver of flesh – was crushed against the ground. She howled, then hissed; but all of her limbs were too far from the Nayabaru to do damage even in theory.

"Why, I'm left to suspect you were thinking of doing something stupid," Tanak rumbled in sadistic amusement. "Like escape."

Aching, Ryrha was fighting with the unyielding metal implement, trying to slip her head out between the prongs to little success, her battered limbs pushing against it as though force alone would let her bones pass through steel.

Calmly, Tanak reached down, his weight still on the trident, and grasped at her throat just under her struggling jaw. Then the weapon withdrew, releasing her; immediately her limbs went for Tanak's arm, guided by instinct, but losing their aim as he plucked her from the floor.

She was drawing them back up even as Tanak changed hands – clutching at the scruff of her neck instead of her throat, letting her weight hang from the skin of her back rather than suffocating her.

The sneer on his expression wasn't subtle – there was a triumph in his air that went far beyond the simple capture of a kavkem. "Valcen! I think I found something you lost!" Tanak called toward the stairs, his attention fixed on Ryrha. More softly, in threatening mock-curiosity: "My, my, I wonder what he's going to do to you now."

[23:45] Ryrha was barely hearing him, writhing in his strong grip as though she might be able to twist around enough to sink her claws into his outstretched arm or reach far enough to slash open his belly. Of course, even if she was at a favourable angle to try, her claws were blunted – she was more likely to simply bruise him, not mortally wound him.

And then they were moving, Tanak holding her at arm's length but with a sure grip that defied all attempts of hers to twist into freedom.

The Nayabaru didn't feed them nearly enough for her to have excess energy. Her adrenaline burnt itself out before they were even as far as halfway down the stairs, meeting with Valcen-sha and Baishar. Her forepaws were both clasped at an awkward, useless angle against Tanak's grip, her broken posture only weakly tensed, radiating misery.

[00:04] "Ryrha!" Baishar hissed, tone suspended between shock and dismay. He began chasing after her, but without adrenaline to guide him, he couldn't match Ryrha's frantic pace. He'd gotten about halfway up the stairs when he heard the loud thump of a kavkem being knocked to the ground. For a brief moment, he accelerated; then there was a howl of pain and the low rumble of Tanak's voice, at which point Baishar skidded to a halt.

Great. Now Tanak was involved. Which meant that sooner or later the Karesejat would know what had happened; not that there was really any chance of hiding things from her. Baishar grimaced at Tanak's shout, plume feathers rising in aggravation. He glanced over to Valcen-sha apologetically, letting out a frustrated sigh and shaking his feathers back into a somewhat more calm position.

There wasn't anything he could do, at this point. Tanak would listen to Valcen; he wouldn't listen to Baishar. Wordlessly, he turned around, walking back down the stairs and towards the Lair.

[00:38] "No, wait," 'sha told Baishar, reaching for him as he turned to leave.

But then his attention snapped up to the Hesh Nayabaru, knowing that despite all the supposed good graces he was in with the Katal Nayabaru, giving an appearance of ignoring a Nayabaru was asking for trouble. He straightened out his posture into one of fleeting authority. "Thank you, Tanak," he said, although his gaze, ladden with concern, was quick to wander to Ryrha.

He would try, he reasoned, not to let her attempt to flee colour his decisions too strongly. It was clear she thought of him as a threat – but who was he to argue with that, really? As 'za, he could unravel her thoughts if he wished. He would rather he wouldn't have to.

"'za is in the hall," he told Tanak, filing into step beside him. 'The hall' was another way to refer to the Lair, a euphemism that Tanak himself was fond of in all of its deliberate blandness. "We were just going there."

Tanak grinned a little, as though very much doubting there was any 'just' about it. A barely audible whimper from his captive only reinforced his preconception. "Is that so?" he asked, conversationally. "Well, who am I to deny you your fun?"

'sha grimaced, but bit down the urge to argue with Tanak. It wasn't the first time they were ultimately at odds about the attitude to have about the Torunyema technology and it likely wouldn't be the last. They had about as many civil conversations as they had unpleasant ones, and latter necessarily always ended with concessions to Tanak.

Better to avoid the conversation altogether.

Tanak had pulled Ryrha's spine against his chest by the time they passed through the doors to the Lair and had managed to trigger reflexes of hers to shift the focus of her hands, looped an arm around her arms and torso, and awkwardly pinned them to her sides.

'za was standing in the Lair, alert, having heard the commotion and radiating an anxious displeasure.

But when Tanak began to walk to the Torunyema, Valcen-za interrupted softly: "Just put her on the ground for now, please." He dipped his muzzle deferentially. His glance touched Baishar, then 'sha. "Can you help keep her still for now? Both of you."

"I can handle—" Tanak began.

"I know," 'za said. "But Baishar and Valcen-sha were supposed to bring her here. You did a superior job and I have the utmost respect for your skills, but I would appreciate if we could take it from here."

Tanak seemed about to object on principle when a trace of amusement rippled through him – perhaps he had found the humour in the situation.

Without comment, he first knelt on one knee, then the other, before leaning forward and across Ryrha, pinning her against the ground rather than his chest. The firm grip against the back of her neck remained as he eased himself back up, sitting on his heels, tugging his other arm out from under her, temporarily leaving his weapon on the ground – out of reach.

Ryrha shivered, giving off the occasional distressed, confused mewl. 'sha slipped in from the side and pushed his arms under her in an embrace of her midsection, pressing his own chest against her hips – it was a gentle restraint, trusting that she wouldn't try to disembowel him. Tenuous, perhaps – tension rippled through her thighs, but she kept still.

If Tanak was meant to let go, someone would have to pin her muzzle, possibly her arms.

[01:35] Baishar, at least, recognized what it was that Valcen was trying to do. There was no way to make this a pleasant situation for Ryrha, but he was trying to minimize her distress, just as he'd tried to minimize Baishar's. As 'sha came in from one side to take hold of her midsection and legs, Baishar approached the front. Carefully, he slid up next to her, wrapping one arm around her chest and leaning his muzzle on top of hers, careful not to bump his tail into Valcen-sha or Tanak.

There was a gentleness to his motions, an attempt to keep Ryrha as calm as possible given the situation. Once he was certain that 'sha and he had the situation under control, he looked up first to Tanak, then to 'za. As Tanak pulled away, Baishar took the opportunity to whisper to Ryrha, as softly as he could: "<It's okay. You'll be okay. I promise.>"

[02:52] And Tanak did let go, by some miracle of Nayabaru generosity – but he would not leave, not now, that much was clear. The saving grace was that he was a Hesh – they were used to blending into the background, remaining alert and available, but never interfering.

That he would have his private, twisted thoughts about the whole scene was an unfortunate detail no one could prevent.

'za approached the knot of feathers, cautiously, almost curiously. "Ryrha," he addressed her, leaning forward and down to bring his muzzle close, his voice only faintly stern. "Why has it come to this?" he asked, tone tinged with exasperation.

Ryrha pressed her shoulders into Baishar, the pressure born of an aborted backing away from Valcen-za. "Please, can we not... just talk about this?" she asked, her voice splintering at the edges.

"We are talking," Valcen-za confirmed, softly, encouragingly. "As I understand it, you've been wanting to stop me in some way. It was insinuated that you weren't thinking of a fervent philosophical debate. I would like to hear, from you, what you were envisioning." A pause. "...please save us both the trouble and be honest."

Ryrha squirmed under the grips of Valcen-sha and Baishar, not quite as passionately as she'd tried to fight off Tanak – not quite left with enough energy even if she had wished it. Her breath was an exhausted pant, her expression one of both deep regret and toxic loathing. His gentle air mingled with latter, twisting at her gut.

"Unless you prefer—?" Valcen gestured over his shoulder.

She almost barked in distress, swallowing a high-pitched sound, flicking her muzzle in a fervent 'no'. "...Baishar," she began, softly, words tripping over themselves. "You taught Baishar how to mold minds. I wanted... – I hoped... that he would return your empathy to you. You were kind once, Valcen. Please, please remember, you were kind once."

Valcen-za sighed, grimacing lightly. "Did I stop being kind? How often have you given the Nayabaru grief in recent weeks? How often have I gone to great lengths, without as much as a single stern comment, to prise you back out of the Pens? And how much of all this have I kept out of your way, deliberately, knowing that it disturbed you? Am I unkind, Ryrha?"

The patience with which he was listing his purported benevolence infected Ryrha with a frantic shiver. The guilt and regret ate at her psyche, her muzzle dipping to best of its ability in submission. "I cherish all you've done for me," she whispered, blinking traces of tears of distress out of the corners of her eyes. "I— I truly do, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

"But I am not your victims; I was not— I was more fortunate than them. But for a while, you were kind to them. I could tell from the way you spoke about it. It kept you awake and— either Baishar or me, we would soothe you. You cared and maybe— maybe it was inconvenient, Valcen, but this isn't better."

[03:10] Baishar was doing his best to remain quiet and soothing — offering the occasional nuzzle or nipping at agitated feathers. It took a fair amount of conscious effort to keep the interactions minimal — too much would likely be even more distressing, given her terror of Valcen.

But her comments left him uneasy. Valcen didn't need defending in an argument; he was perfectly capable of defending himself. But nonetheless. "It wasn't just inconvenient," Baishar quietly pointed out. "It was actively endangering him; it was actively endangering the tenuous peace he has with the Nayabaru."

[03:12] Valcen, again, took the narrative without flinching. If he was offended by her words, he didn't show it. If he was moved by them, it was equally opaque.

"Nor do I treat them any differently now than I did before," he assured, appending to Baishar's observations. "And it is better – not only because I don't spend hours agonising over my actions that I could be using to advance my projects, but also because it lets me focus on them, take away their fear, and leave them with no cognitive dissonance.

"You too have seen Baishar's distress. What I had done to him before, that was a poor job, guided primarily by emotion. What I have done to him now is much more refined and much less likely to cause him any future pain." Casually, calmly, speaking of a mental mutilation she hadn't even had a chance to diagnose yet.

He sighed. "But in any case, if it's any consolation, it wouldn't have worked. 'sha's mind is not a kavkem mind – the Torunyema won't interface with it," he explained, patiently.

[03:13] "Y-yes," Ryrha agreed. There was a tension in her body and tone, as though she was trying to force herself to disgorge a particularly unpleasant truth that had gotten lodged in her throat. "I would have— I would have tried to kill him. You could have made another copy – from your better self."

Valcen frowned. "You can't kill 'sha, Ryrha," he said, simply. "Not unless you crack open his skull, extract the device that contains him, and crush it with the force of ten crocodiles' jaws." Flawed from the start. Doomed to fail. He waited, letting it sink in.

Ryrha held herself still for a long moment, posture only subtly disturbed as she swallowed.

[03:33] That revelation was apparently news to Baishar as well, his attention turning to look at 'sha — slightly awkwardly, given the angle. Valcen-za's earlier comments about Ryrha's plans being too late finally clicked into place, instilling a deep, newfound sense of awe at what Valcen had been able to accomplish. It gave a new dimension to the word immortality, imparting Valcen-sha with an invisible resilience that his physical form didn't suggest.

...To think, perhaps, that someday he might be granted a similar gift, provided he was obedient and they were lucky with convincing the Nayabaru. To think that Valcen was willing to spend effort on doing so. It filled him with excitement, almost enough to distract him from his task.

Almost, but not quite. His attention returned to Ryrha, trying to gauge her discomfort. You can't kill 'sha. It was reassuring, in a way; it meant that Valcen was in no immediate danger from Ryrha.

[03:35] Meanwhile, Valcen-za continued: "And now, what would you have me do with you?" A short pause, then: "What would you, were you in my position, do with someone who had revealed plans like these to you?"

A fresh tension gripped her. It didn't need any saying that there were things she would like him to do in the situation – simply let her go back to the Den, think about what she had done, regret her own ignorance and misplaced hope, sink back into the familiar embrace of the unending sequence of nightmares.

But it was irresponsible. No sane person could risk keeping someone from Dynash, who had openly admitted to plotting against them, free to move as they pleased. She knew it and the options to solve the dilemma were all terrifying. She couldn't bring herself to speak them.

Instead, she mewled. "I... understand I am rather beyond redemption. I've made unforgivable mistakes. I—" She glanced at Tanak briefly, as though feeling guilt even at wasting a Nayabaru's time with her antics. "I would hope you might perhaps have the mercy to return me to the Pens; seeing as in any case, I've forfeit the consent you sought when you took me in.

"...so it shouldn't— it shouldn't make a difference, should it, whether the Nayabaru take eggs from me by force or whether you subdue my mind so that my future self does it willingly. It would be a small mercy, but I would like to stay as I am, if I may, and if you allow it."

The strain in her voice was absolute, its quivering running through her body, her terror palpable despite the level tone she was forcing herself to keep, despite the courtesy she hammered into her wounded voice until the niceties burst from its battered seams.

[03:55] Ryrha's response drove a wire of tension into Baishar, the clearly self-destructive nature of her request hitting a little too close to home. "Ryrha, don't," he replied before he could stop himself, his voice tense but still quiet. "Don't throw your life away like this. There's no reason to choose yria over qanu here; your suffering won't help anyone."

[04:00] "It's my choice, Baishar," Ryrha retorted with a tremble, softly but sternly, brushing his argument aside as though he had never made it – uninterested in discussing its content, dangerously balanced on a psychological precipice as she was.

Valcen-za and Valcen-sha exchanged glances, communicating on a level beyond words, a silent synchronisation of minds. A distant memory from when 'sha had just been made: As a rule of thumb, always listen to the youngest, as that will be the one with the most able mind.

Perhaps 'za was seeing whether 'sha concurred with his assessment – literally seeing, his clone's body language transparent to him in ways that even amanata could only dream of.

Then he sighed again, dragging his gaze back over to Ryrha. "...sure," he said, sadness and regret in his tone. If the situation was to be unsalvageable, he might as well leave her the choice.

They'd grown sufficiently estranged in the last yennedo that it was hardly a loss to return her to the Pens – not like Baishar, whose contributions were undeniably valuable and whose very interest in the technology involved in Valcen's projects helped streamline his own thoughts. He would fight to keep Baishar here – but Ryrha could go, as much as it broke his heart in principle.

He glanced across to Tanak, straightening back up. "Please take her back to the Pens," he said with what might have been a hint of a wounded pride. "It would appear she has lost her usefulness."

Tanak was grinning. There was a moment of silence in which he relished some private thought, lingered on some emotion only a Nayabaru could feel in the given situation. Then, with finality: "No."

Valcen-za puffed a little in surprise. "...no?" he echoed, too incredulous to have the good sense to hide his emotion. For a moment, he glanced quizzically at 'sha, but his younger self was just as perplexed – he had not simply misheard or misunderstood. "I don't—"

"By decree of the Karesejat Terenyira, the Hesha of Katal graciously offer their services to you, in any such manner as is natural and right. I further serve you as a body guard and I will gladly catch as many errant, lost friends of yours as is necessary, with great passion, but you really should not, ever, mistake this arrangement for one where you can tell the Hesha what to do."

Tanak leered, infected with an energy Valcen had never seen in his patient Nayabaru companion. It was as if Tanak's sense of humour had flowered into a toxic bloom, revealing itself simply as a caged sadism he had carefully and professionally kept tamed – now given an excuse to let it loose, to watch the one he had been tasked with protecting squirm without any dire consequence.

But his tone betrayed nothing but formal certainty: "She's your problem, Valcen – and indeed, I have every reason to believe you are quite capable of dealing with her on your own."

Valcen crinkled, closing his eyes, his feathers undecided whether to rise or fall. A tension of displeasure gripped him, silent but weighing heavy on his posture. For a long moment, he was simply silent, sorting his emotions. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Then, slowly, he opened his eyes again and did his best to smile at Tanak. "Forgive me my misstep," he said in a delivery much more smooth than he no doubt felt. "You are absolutely correct, she is my responsibility. But I have done a poor job and I believe the Hesha of Katal could easily put my attempts to shame.

"Would you, as a personal favour to me, consider taking her back and imprisoning her?"

Tanak chuckled softly. "I'm not playing a game with you, Valcen," he said. "I said no – and you would be wise not to assume this will change simply because you try to kiss my ass, much as it's entertaining to watch and I like flattery as much as the next guy. She's your problem. Go on, fix it."

[04:01] Valcen stared at Tanak, not quite losing his composure yet. Softly, after a moment's consideration: "I appreciate the message you're trying to send here, but could you perhaps put your foot down about this some other time? It's really unnecessarily cruel—"

"Is it? When would you like me to send you this message, other than when it will have the greatest possible impact on your future behaviour?" Tanak asked.

Dumbstruck, Valcen-za simply stood where he was, obviously ill at ease, but still mostly calm by merit of the sheer surreality of the obstacle that had been cast his way.

And then he thawed out of his stupor. "Okay then," he said, a little tensely. "I can do this. I will tell you frankly that I find this distasteful of you, and I will tell you frankly I would rather not, but seeing as I can't simply, in good conscience, let her go again, I suppose we are doing the Nayabaru thing where we do the exact opposite of a kavkem's wishes.

"Or, as a different culture I was briefly a part of might observe: Beatings shall continue until morale improves," he added with a grim, dejected sarcasm, fully aware that Tanak would not understand what he was trying to say, nor develop as much as a curiosity about what it might mean.

And then his attention drifted back to Ryrha, glancing at her with a coldness that had been mercifully absent just moments before. It struck her like a physical blow; she came apart, her spine winding under the attention of the two kavkema holding her, her muzzle cast to the side, a howl wrenched from her, the pitiful sound of raw terror.

§ 2020-02-23 22:26:11

[22:26] The slowly sinking feeling finally settled into Baishar's gut at Valcen's initial response. You're just going to let her go. He clung to Ryrha, heart filled with regrets. In spite of everything, in spite of his newfound undying loyalty to Valcen, he still cared about Ryrha. I'm sorry I didn't do anything sooner. I'm sorry I let it come to this.

Was there anything he could have done, though, even with perfect hindsight? It seemed doubtful; if Ryrha was unwilling to let Valcen change her mind now, despite how skilled he'd become at it, then it was unlikely that any other option had ever existed. Instead he simply ran his muzzle through her mane, gently preening her in an attempt to be comforting.

When Tanak spoke, Baishar paused, looking up with an echo of Valcen's confusion. As the dialogue continued, the confusion slowly gave way to a burning rage. How dare you speak to Valcen like that. It didn't matter that Baishar himself had urged the same thing moments ago; it was clear Tanak just wanted to watch Ryrha and Valcen suffer.

For the first time since his arrival in Valcen's care, Baishar genuinely wanted to kill Tanak. That doing so was impossible for at least three reasons did nothing to quell the desire. As Ryrha began thrashing, the frustration at his powerlessness sought an outlet; hands grasped at her muzzle, trying to force it to hold still while his legs held her arms. "Stop it," he growled, glaring at her, his compassion momentarily eclipsed by a misdirected rage. "You'll be fine."

[22:50] But she was beyond reason, more animal than person – just like the Nayabaru might envision her to be. Just the way the Nayabaru would reduce her to. Twisting, snapping at the air, forepaws reaching, grasping, fortunately at no angle to do anything of use. Then the seconds of terror passed, once more broken against her exhaustion, Baishar's grip prevailing.

"No," she wailed softly, fear still straining her voice like taut string. "No, there won't be anything left of me to be fine."

'za made no effort to dissuade her from the misconception, perhaps convinced that she was beyond any soothing, perhaps simply inoculated against this particular display of distress. Perhaps both. Nonetheless, he was first doing nothing but observing the futile wrestle. Only when it began to quieten did he take a step back and say: "Do you think you can move her? Strap her in?"

By some miracle, it didn't prompt a fresh squirming from Ryrha; Baishar could feel her frantic heartbeat, sense her despair. His own past distress was beyond his emotional reach – he couldn't imagine it any more other than in some abstract, disconnected sense – had he been this bad? Had his fear run this deep?

'sha made a sound halfway between a growl and a grumble. "Worth a try," he said, without much conviction. The best way to move her most of the way was to slide her across the ground – it would look ridiculous, but it was the best way not to get kicked and bitten in the process. Grace, that much Valcen knew by now, was an optional luxury.

[23:30] There was a long silence from Baishar as he glared at the writhing kavkem beneath him. Doing the Nayabaru thing. It disgusted him; it disgusted Valcen. And yet they would do it, because the only other option was blocked by Tanak being an enormous ass. Someday, he thought to himself, Valcen will destroy all of you. He will break open your skulls like rotten eggs, and then I will laugh.

In the present, however, they had no such luxury. He held that thought close to his chest, using it as a temporary beacon of sanity. Strap her in. They could do this. Baishar slowly rose, grasping at Ryrha's wrists as he did so, avoiding the occasional snap of her jaws. He looked back at 'sha, gave a light shake of his muzzle, and together they began awkwardly dragging her towards the Torunyema.

Once they were there, it was a somewhat more annoying task to get her into the Torunyema; it mostly involved Baishar clambering on top of Ryrha to mostly hold her in place, while Valcen-sha worked at the restraints. Once the straps on her limbs were taken care of, Baishar carefully pressed her muzzle into the headrest, one hand keeping her mouth shut while the other pulled the restraints into place.

Sighing from exhaustion, Baishar finally climbed down, working at the straps around her neck and skull with a tired precision. The rage had burned itself out by that point; there was only disappointment left. Was I this much of a hassle? he wondered to himself as he quietly sealed Ryrha's fate. He's not going to destroy you; stop being so paranoid.

[00:02] Ryrha's writhing was weak even though it came in spurts. Her plaintive mewling punctured the silence in similar intervalls – shapeless, futile pleading.

"...thank you," 'za said, though he sounded more as though he were on the edge of a deep weariness than filled with any particular pride.

Tanak, at least, was not mocking them now. It was a small mercy – this was Valcen's expertise, Valcen's profession in the eyes of the Nayabaru, so Tanak would not dare judge the manner, speed or efficiency that he did it in. There were plenty of jokes he could be cracking at their expense – but none would be appropriate from a Nayabaru perspective.

Even wanton cruelty had to follow the rules.

It was good that he was patient – 'za made no motion suggesting he was about to take out his interface gloves. His eyes remained cycled to photonic vision, his attention on Ryrha, staring at her for long minutes of silence punctured only by her anticipatory whimpers.

Then, with visible reluctance, he cycled his left eye to the interface, while 'sha brought the Torunyema down, using the opportunity to shoot a venomous glare at Tanak – a promise, perhaps, of some far future revenge, at some point when the Nayabaru least expected it.

While the abstract view of Ryrha's mind began to grow from its initial kernel, 'za began to dress his claws in the circuitry that could interact with the colourful knotwork.

There was no sudden decisive motion. No carefully planned sequence of gestures. He simply stared at the unfolded view, reading what it had to say.

Gradually, agitation threaded through his body language.

[00:03] It was 'sha that had sidled up to Baishar at this point, pressing his flank to the kavkem designed to be obedient. "Baishar," he whispered to him – not enough to hide his words, not deliberately trying to, simply not wishing to disturb the thoughts of 'za or Ryrha, much as latter no doubt yearned to be disturbed.

"Her mind's a mess." He wasn't seeing it, of course – he didn't have to. It was transparent 'za was struggling to find a gentle option in the landscape he saw. "You know her well; would you take a look? See if you can help 'za?"

[00:18] Baishar had settled into a sit a short distance away, his gaze alternating between a whimpering Ryrha and a clearly deeply uncomfortable Valcen-za. He was carefully facing away from Tanak, some part of him hoping that if he ignored the Hesh he'd simply cease to exist. Not that such a tactic had ever worked on Hesha before.

Valcen-sha's request elicited a soft exhale from Baishar, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Knowing her well is likely to make it harder, not easier, a part of him wanted to point out. But it was still a request from Valcen; he still wanted to obey, even if it would be difficult. A moment later, he gave his muzzle a light shake. "I'll try," he promised, giving 'sha a nuzzle, before reaching a claw up to his right eye and cycling to Torunyema-vision.

[00:34] From Ryrha's perspective, the real world was gradually melting into one of her nightmares, as though some arcane force were clawing its way through the very fabric of reality. She had no illusions that she could do anything to stop the process – it felt as futile as trying to stem the tide from a bursting dam, a metaphysical unravelling.

A metaphysical promise: Your nightmare was here all along, biding its time.

The dark half of Valcen's gaze crept down her spine like a line of ants. Any moment now. Any moment now you'll lose your soul. Quietly, like a fervent prayer, she clung to her stories, as in the dream. Past a blurring gaze of her own, she saw Baishar follow Valcen-za's example, a horrific mirror-image.

"Please—" But the word was barely audible, too soft and distorted by fear.

The view 'za and Baishar could see was a tight knot of associations. Whereas so far, most minds had revealed a handful of easy levers for alteration – such as Netami's beliefsystem, crisply pronounced as it had been, or in Baishar's case the eroded base of an axiom's well-defined spine – Ryrha's destructive potential was born of fear, and her fears were a network.

Something had reinforced her fears and tied them to almost any sane thought she was having. It seemed remarkable that she was lucid at all, capable of any rational thought, yet she clearly had been. Right now, her thoughts were caught in a loop of resigned exhaustion and existential fear, flickering through her abstract perceptions of Valcen, of Katal, of her personal failure.

Unpicking this would take time. Potentially it would take too long – by the time they had worked their way through the tangles, the place they had started might have scarred back over. All simple avenues involved deep, fundamental changes – the sort Valcen wanted to at least avoid if the Nayabaru were going to twist his arm about having to make changes at all.

[00:59] The picture unfolding in his halved gaze was, as 'sha had put it, a mess. Ryrha's fears had devoured nearly everything; they spread through her mind like a thicket, choking out any attempt at unraveling it. It was impossible to tell what was a cause of what; it seemed like everything was connected to everything else. For long moments, he stared at it, trying to see any options.

But the longer he stared at it, the more hopeless the prospect of making small, localized changes seemed — every fear was reinforcing something, every fear was reinforced by others. It felt like nowhere was the right place to begin.

Baishar approached Valcen-za, watching the Torunyema's representation of Ryrha's thoughts pulse and turn, before settling down next to him. "...Is it possible to turn off her fear entirely?" he asked, tone uncertain. Possible, yes; but a good idea? "...At least temporarily, so we can do something?"

[01:10] "...the emotion, yes," 'za said, unhappily. "The associations will remain. They'll just feed into scepticism and unease instead. It doesn't help solve the problem. Though I suppose it's courteous—"

"Please— Please don't change who I am," Ryrha begged.

'za grimaced anew. That, at least, was one plea that he was practised ignoring. Baishar had seen him ignore it just recently, after all – these self-destructive feelings that had nearly driven Baishar into the Pens or into mindlessness. But he didn't act on it just yet – the exact consequences were fiendishly difficult to unpick.

"Do you think I should?" he asked Baishar, a little numbly. It was odd, of course, being asked for advice by one's superior; but 'za was perhaps still emotionally rattled by having his preferred option spitefully blocked by Tanak.

§ 2020-02-29 22:50:14

[22:50] Do you think I should? It was a strange question to hear from his master, causing a mild tension of uncertainty from Baishar. How should I know, if you don't? a part of him wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue.

Instead, he took it as an order to answer, or at least attempt to do so. He stared at Ryrha, half in one world and half in another, trying to gauge whether Valcen should disable her fear. "...Fear might be easier to soothe than skepticism," he noted, giving a small shrug. "But I don't know if it's possible to soothe this by ordinary means," he added, making a sweeping gesture with his forepaw in Ryrha's general direction.

Valcen was clearly still distraught by the situation with Tanak, and the difficulty of Ryrha's mindscape certainly wasn't helping. Baishar gently rested his muzzle against the back of Valcen's neck, giving a gentle hum. "It's up to you, but I don't think it's a bad first step. Whatever you decide, I know you can do this. You helped me; you can do the same for her."

[00:32] In truth, Valcen simply felt a burning urge to ask Ryrha what to do. He was compromising with the Nayabaru at her expense – a vibrant kernel of emotion in him wanted to respect her wishes at least in the execution of this task. Yet the last time he had followed that general approach lay only a few hours back; it hadn't been fruitful. It had been an exercise in futility.

It was up to him. It was what he wanted the least – each time he'd been coerced, by fate or otherwise, to impose his own will on a subject, there had been some measure of regret.

You helped me, you can do the same for her. True, yet tautological. Hollow. Empty of all meaning. It wouldn't haunt him, not like last time; there hadn't been very many alternatives to pursue, given the fragile state of Baishar's psyche, but as much as Baishar's mind was now stable and happy, there would always remain some questions as to whether he had made the right choices.

And yet, Baishar had at least come to him and accepted that he would be adjusted.

There was no time pressure. He could work on Ryrha as long as he pleased – Tanak wouldn't interfere. He could unpick those knots one by one, tediously, cautiously advancing through dependencies. Or, if he dug deep enough, he could invert notions anchored deep in her core and make the visible tangles lose their current meaning – at cost of anything one might still call 'Ryrha'.

In his mind's eye, he reached out to touch her, whispered: "Work with me, here, please, tell me what I can change that you wouldn't despise," but it had no effect on his actions in reality.

Instead, he gave his muzzle a reluctant, acknowledging swerve, then cycled his vision into a stereoscopic view of the mess, reached into the tangles with stubborn intent, and choked out the branches of Ryrha's terror.

There was a curt, mangled cry from Ryrha, product of her shock at the sudden motion and its implication – her tension lingered in her body, tongue curled against the roof of her mouth. An eerie calm settled on her thoughts. It felt like nothing had changed – there was no 'before' or 'after' sense, only the intellectual knowledge that her fear had been artificially subdued.

Instead, she felt enveloped by distrust. She was right to be wary of this creature with his all-consuming eyes, facing her now as he was. She had been wrong to ever think otherwise, those fleeting, isolated moments where she felt safe in his presence. He was going to take her apart.

Given there was nothing she could do to stop it – and indeed, even pleading seemed like a pathetic waste of time – perhaps she could simply force his hand. If he wanted to extinguish the righteous fire of Dynash, he would have to burn his way through the thickets; leave nothing but ashes.

"I think it's time for me to tell you a story," she said, softly, her tone carefully measured, her own gaze anchored on Valcen-za with an alien energy, the adrenalin from her terror redirected into a joyless mania.

Valcen-za grimaced, anticipating a tirade much like the one that Baishar had launched at him earlier – a pointless exercise in insults, strung together from selective truths at best, allegorical at worst. Silently, he filtered through the tangles, looking for viable solutions.

"Once there was a woman trapped in the Katal Pens. One day, an apparition came to her – the shell of a nascent god – and asked of her whether she would be interested in helping him attain his godhood.

"She knew that if she declined, he would simply ask another, and then another, and then another, until one agreed, or until he ran out of women to ask. Had he run out of women to ask, he would have taken what he needed by force, because there was no compromising with his goals."

"Ryrha, please," Valcen-za sighed. "Just stop."

"No," she said. "I'm not anywhere near done yet, and this is probably the last opportunity I have to tell this story. It's mine and you're going to listen; it's the least you can do." Her tongue tried to extend to lick at her lips, but there was no gap between her teeth that was large enough to allow it. She continued:

"This woman had been taught that it is right that if one can rescue another with a personal sacrifice, one should do so. And so, reasoning that she could stop others from participating in this scheme, she volunteered the eggs he asked of her, under the condition that he arrange, to best of his ability, the destruction of those that were unfit for his purposes.

"And he agreed and was true to his word. And so she thought that perhaps, he could be reasoned with. She took it upon herself to guide him when he was lost, as she might have done for a child. And their situation was terrible, for they were still in Katal, and they were as foreign bodies to the Nayabaru, who resented them more than the people they had enslaved.

"But despite the pressure, he was kind and he taught her things she had never dreamt possible. And then one day, he brought in a man, new to the stresses of this strange environment—"

Something delicate snapped and evaporated. She sucked in a breath, unsure what had gone and where it had gone to. Into those eyes. Lost forever to the world beyond them. Her teeth, already gritted by circumstance, pressed together fractionally harder.

[00:33] "—and the god took a liking to him, as with him he shared the desire to transcend mortal considerations. But the mortal man lost his way and tried to stop the god in his endeavours – and so the god corrected him, simply reaching into his skull to rearrange the thoughts therein, erasing the man and replacing him with something that shared only his appearance.

"The woman mourned this loss, for she too had been fond of this man, and she became afraid of the god, because he could do the same to her and no doubt would, now that he had seen that he could.

"And when a desperate spark of that man returned, having magically survived its surgical removal, the woman took note, and encouraged him, and schemed to stop the god with his own tools, as that he might never destroy that spark again. But the god suspected. He found his doubting disciple and carved away all that doubt, all the pain, and then sent him to fetch—"

"Ryrha, he came to me," Valcen-za commented, matter-of-factly.

Again something seared through her thoughts, distorting her vision as it grew through her like a fungal bloom. For a moment, she lost her train of thought and fumbled for it with stubborn intent – unsure what she was being stubborn about, precisely, but not yet willing to give up on being stubborn itself. "He came to you?" she echoed, curious.

"Yes," he muttered.

"Did he ask to have his soul upended?" she asked, her tone scathingly casual.

"This isn't productive," Valcen-sha remarked, filling in for 'za to letter latter work his way through Ryrha's mind with fewer distractions.

"Did he?" she repeated, not losing her curiosity.

"He was hurting because I did a poor job adjusting his mind the first time. I offered to fix it. He agreed," 'sha shrugged.

"And if you truly think that the agreement makes any difference, I see you weren't listening to the story," Ryrha observed, without venom, steeped in an alien calm. "There was simply no compromising with his goals. No compromise at all."

'sha gave Valcen-za a glance, fully aware that 'za would be unable to see any of the non-verbal exchange. For a moment, he stared at 'za, as though perhaps carefully considering his words. Then, before Ryrha could quite decide to continue her story, he said: "'za, reckon she may be right? This compromising business does feel like a waste of time."

'za snorted, part in amusement, part in bitter dismissal. "No," he said, simply, without much inflection.

'sha glanced to Baishar, trying to gauge his opinion. Do you think we should compromise with Ryrha?

[02:33] The motion of Valcen-za's hands and the accompanying shift in colors sent a chill down Baishar's spine; a vivid reminder of his own recent reconfiguration. Valcen knew what he was doing; he'd become a master at this in the past few months. And in spite of the strained circumstances, there was something Baishar found viscerally pleasing about watching such a master at work.

Just as Valcen had predicted, Ryrha's fear turned to distrust. Her story was painful to listen to, for all its attempts to paint his beloved Valcen in the worst possible light. It was clearly upsetting 'za as well, though he was well practiced at not letting a kavkem's complaints get to him.

His own role in the story only made him feel a deep regret. I was such a fool back then, merged with I am so fortunate to no longer be that fool. So much of Ryrha's views were twisted reflections of reality, it was almost unrecognizable. You don't understand anything.

At 'sha's glance, Baishar peeled himself away from 'za, looking back and forth between him and Ryrha. After a moment, he breathed a sigh, taking a step forwards. "You assume too much, Ryrha," Baishar replied, his tone calm. "For one, I was never erased nor replaced; merely transformed. Valcen has already made edits; do you feel replaced? Or do you feel like Ryrha?

"If you could see what I see, you would understand. He is compromising. He is doing everything he can to keep Ryrha, in spite of how much easier it would be to erase and replace you. You assume he is malicious, that he'd do so simply because he can."

Baishar sighed, closing his eyes, letting his vision drown in the artificial light of Ryrha's thoughts. "I'm sorry, 'sha. You're right. This is counterproductive." There was no point in arguing with Ryrha; he might as well be arguing with a wall for all the good it would do. "I don't know what good you think compromise would do, at this point."

[03:15] "How would you presume I should compare myself to the Ryrha of past? She's not here to be compared to," Ryrha observed, her tone bordering on a derisive hiss, eyes narrowing. "She's being gently eroded away, until she fits. It's not malicious. It's simply focussed." If a fearless form of distress existed, Ryrha was embodying it at that moment.

'sha padded over to Baishar to nuzzle at his shoulder as he was addressed. "...yet you're fond of her," he observed, softly. "That counts for something. What do you admire? What should we try to retain above all?"

Ryrha snorted, then closed her eyes as something else was stripped out of the labyrinthine structures of her thoughts. There was a sense of an absence of something, as though someone had painlessly carved out one of her organs and her body had not yet noticed its functionality had gone, but could sense the hollow left behind.

She'd been telling a story. She'd lost her narrative place in it and patiently backtracked, trying not to let her concern about how much time she had left to tell it distract her.

Right. They had come to fetch her.

"—and so," she continued, finding that kernel of stubbornness that had yet to be excised to spur her. "The god sent for the woman he had once recruited into his services, and she was brought to him. And he asked her, 'My dear friend, did you seek to stand in my way?', and she was truthful, and recounted her plans to him.

"And though he was clearly disappointed—" Ryrha said, but stopped abruptly. An emotion caught in her throat – like blood spilling from the culmination from a thousand tiny cuts, it bogged her down. Something cut through it like a blade through liquid – it reformed, subtly different, but still recognisably the same thing.

"...and although he was clearly disappointed," she continued. "And could not bring himself to trust her as he had trusted her before, he wanted to spare her. But he could not. He simply... could not."

'sha, having opened his muzzle to speak to Baishar, to further comment on the subject of 'compromise', instead silently swerved it to stare at Ryrha.

Ryrha tried to squeeze a smile out of her pinned posture, but could barely convey it. In a whisper so soft that it contained only traces of the pleading tone intended for it, she said: "Please remember the story... remember, please, and... just make the nightmares stop. Tear them out. Rend them. Don't leave them in there."

§ 2020-03-07 19:46:32

[19:46] Baishar followed Valcen's gaze to Ryrha, the story having taken a turn he didn't expect. The venom was gone, the anger was gone, she was asking to have the nighmares removed. He paused, looking over to 'za, then back to Ryrha, then to the verdant coral of Ryrha's mind. Why did she—? "Wait," he said, tone a mixture of pleading and confusion.

It didn't make sense. The changes Valcen had made so far shouldn't have had such a drastic effect, he was pretty sure. There was still so much wrong here. Ryrha thought Valcen was Q'ur — which, to be fair, for all of his power he might as well be — but she was still thinking of him in terms of Leksharia, with all the limitations that imposed.

And yet she... what? Was surrendering to Valcen? It made sense, it was the right thing to do, and yet it didn't fit with his understanding of Ryrha.

Baishar closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "I don't understand," he commented softly, tone suspended between frustration and dismay. "I don't understand you at all." Despite the wording, it was clearly tinged with sadness; some part of him seeking for a connection that was no longer there. "I'm not sure I ever did."

Did it matter what was preserved and what was lost? Whatever the Baishar who'd first come here had felt, whatever understanding he'd come to have of Ryrha, that Baishar was gone. He was glad the old Baishar was gone; the old Baishar had nearly destroyed his chances of making a difference more times than he cared to recall. But any connection with Ryrha was severed; Ryrha had said so herself long ago. Perhaps she'd been right; perhaps he was a replacement — even if he much preferred being this replacement than being the original.

And now in some ways Ryrha was going to be replaced, or refined, or adjusted. It was the only way forward. The old Ryrha was gone; what arose in her place was up to Valcen. He struggled to think about 'sha's earlier question, what do I admire — and found himself unable to answer.

"Do what you must. Preserve what you can. It's too late for anything else."

[20:53] 'za was tentatively back to sifting through those tangles for some useful indicator, something to do what Ryrha asked without eviscerating her completely, not trusting himself to comment on her observations without making her state worse – not trusting himself to keep a steady hand if he spoke.

It was a shame that his own thoughts were so opaque, that there was no current, immediate map revealing what went on in Valcen's skull, that fine-tuned clock-work. Baishar had seen it once – it had been the most neatly ordered set of neuroses he likely ever would encounter – but right now, Valcen's thoughts were cloaked by silence.

Ryrha simply wept from stress, a mostly silent matting of her feathers by tears.

Now that he was descending through the tangles with a goal mind, more of the problem made itself apparent to him. He was gradually building a picture of how everything that had led into her misguided plans worked, the deep motor that drove her – in part Dynash, in part a love for her culture, in part her religious conviction, and to disconcertingly large part—

He spoke, softly: "...it really is too late. I left this too late. Had I done something sooner, we would have had more options." He reached forward, touching a part of the coral without, for the time being, modifying anything; Baishar took a while to recognise it as Valcen began to explain.

"Ryrha," he addressed her. "Listen to me. In most people, fear comes from some dark place in their soul – a misplaced instinct, a prejudice, a fervent emotion. You too have these things, but primarily, you have fed your fears with... extrapolations. To large part, your nightmares are based on reason; everything else is just giving them more of a sting, making them personal."

He paused as he considered whether to declare them false extrapolations – some certainly were, but others seemed statistical certainty.

Then: "To take away your nightmares, Ryrha, I need to take away your ability to draw these conclusions, or they will just regenerate. I need to take away your reason. But if I take away your reason, I also take away your command of language." Do you want that?

Ryrha snorted, held tense, her eyes squeezed shut. "If you can do it, please shut up and do it. Don't pretend I can choose. I've already chosen all I can."

[22:27] As Valcen pointed out the root of Ryrha's nightmares and began his explanation, it felt as though a thorned vine was wrapped around his throat, digging into his flesh while suffocating him. Remove her ability to reason.

What would be left of her after that? It was one thing to say she would no longer be Ryrha; it was quite another to render her no more sapient than an ysash. His feathers raised in agitation; he could feel Tanak's smirking visage without needing to turn to see it. You're the reason for this, Tanak some part of him wanted to shout. He knew it wasn't exactly true; he knew it was more complex than that. But in the face of what was about to happen, he could only feel a burning rage for the Nayabaru.

Fine. Let Tanak enjoy this pointless cruelty in the heart of Katal. Valcen was a god of strategy, and he hated the Nayabaru as much as any kavkem feared them. He had a plan, and though he would not share it, Baishar knew it was a good one. Perhaps there could be a place in this plan for vengeance. Enjoy your show while it lasts, Tanak. For someday, Valcen may do the same to you.

[22:49] 'za seemed to hesitate, perhaps trying to find other avenues, to prove himself wrong. Perhaps if I simply excise her ability to feel fear altogether? But no – then she would simply see it fit to harass the Nayabaru even more and get hurt beyond my ability to patch it over. He sighed, closing his eyes, as though it made any difference.

The mental knotwork remained crisp to his perception.

"Fine," he said, with only a tinge of annoyance and regret – shallow, fleeting, transient. His fingers curled about the kernel he'd identified, the foundation stone of both this whole cancerous mess and everything of value.

[22:50] Then his thumb folded against his palm and he crushed it with an effortless gesture. His victim's breath cut short as she was taken by surprise by a foreign, disembodied sensation, already unable to process it fully. There is only ever 'after'.

To Baishar's augmented vision Ryrha did not disappear. The previously connected branches hung in isolation, unreachable islands of thought. They would fade only slowly, but they would fade – or her mind would begin to repurpose the lost infrastructure first.

Her breath was a confused pant – like an animal waking to find that it had been restrained, unsure what to make of the situation, but clearly concerned about it, fearful even, if it hadn't already been robbed of the ability to feel fear.

"What a waste," 'sha muttered unhappily.

'za himself was breathing slowly, very deliberately. Silent, he began to work his way through what remained, focussing on his work, building artificial bridges between useful knots after carving them out of the wreckage. He was doing something about her social connections – rescuing, by the looks of things, that desperate forgiveness she had felt not long ago.

...no, not quite. He was reshaping it into something else, changing its focus, gently but purposefully.

[23:51] There was no looking away; even as he knew what Valcen was doing, even as he was on some level deeply horrified by it, it was impossible to look away. As the kernel was pulled out, Ryrha's gasp was echoed by Baishar, a twinge of pain and sympathy knotting in his gut. Several moments later, there was a soft whimper from Baishar, and he pressed himself against Valcen-sha, the tears in his eyes doing nothing to mar the perfect vision of Ryrha's mind.

A waste. A loss. A perfectly functional companion with no ability to think for herself. In spite of all the distance between them, in spite of all their disagreements, in spite of the threat Ryrha had posed, it was impossible not to mourn.

Movement in the tangles sparked some misplaced emotion, intense and confusing. He's still working. Valcen was still working. Baishar shuddered, curling in on himself beside Valcen-sha, watching breathlessly through closed eyes as 'za gently rearranged what was left into something else.

"What is he doing?" Baishar whispered, his tone much closer to curiosity than condemnation. He didn't particularly expect 'sha to answer him, or 'za to hear him — more trying to understand what he was seeing, some piece of his curiosity unwilling to be silent despite the tragic circumstance.

[00:21] "Can't see," 'sha responded, in a tone that suggested he knew the reminder was entirely unnecessary, but still polite to state over sheer silence.

For a moment, he stared at 'za and Ryrha as though doing so might yield answers to Baishar's question regardless – then he looked down to Baishar, his air morphing into one of light compassion. His muzzle dipped, gently nudging against Baishar's, and a tongue cautiously tried to ease the tears out of the short feathers of his face.

But the sight of Ryrha being rearranged was oddly mesmerising. Something much like jealousy burnt in Baishar's gut, misplaced but no less tangible for it. Perhaps some part of him, in its admiration of Valcen's skill, yearned to be in her place – despite everything that had just happened, despite everything the broken structures implied.

It was clear enough for him to know it wasn't the right thing to feel after a friend had just been effectively erased.

The difference in gestures was always striking. He had been careful before Ryrha had made her request, trying to systematically deconstruct the mess of her mind without eroding its basic shape; then there had been the sudden, almost carelessly harsh motion to destroy the foundation stone; and now he was back to his delicate weaving.

Even in the realm of the mind, destruction was easier than creation. Destroying Gazhil had taken only a minute, though done in cautious steps to minimise his distress. Rewriting Netami had taken more than ten minutes, even with Valcen's guidance and the comparatively simple choices they'd made.

Ryrha was no different – her higher thought processes had been easy to disintegrate in a single gesture. Shaping the shards that remained into something worthwhile was what was taking its time.

But even that came to an end eventually.

Baishar could almost see it. It was on the tip of his tongue – familiar, but strange enough to throw him off a certain identification, a conscious recollection.

"All done," 'za said, cycling his left eye to normal vision, and tensely walking over to his creation to push the device whose claws were invisibly lodged in skull away from it. There was a slight jitter to his breath, result of agitation. The subtext reminded of 'sha's observation: What a waste.

He cycled his other eye back to normal vision as well and began to unstrap Ryrha's muzzle, without so much as bothering to peel the gloves back off his paws. He wasn't meeting either Baishar's or 'sha's gaze, stubbornly glancing at Ryrha as though no one else were even in the room.

As soon as she could, Ryrha opened her muzzle to lick at her teeth, her expression one of cautious confusion.

[00:48] Slowly, the tears subsided, the patterns of changes in Ryrha's mind strangely hypnotic, almost soothing. While he couldn't quite process exactly what was happening, it became clear that Valcen was making the best of a bad situation. Just as he always did. Just as he'd done with Baishar, he was doing with Ryrha — although in Ryrha's case the effects were much more severe.

There was a strange sense of yearning coiling in his gut, almost jealousy. A part of Baishar desperately wanted to be in Ryrha's place, directly experiencing Valcen's gentle manipulations. A part of him wondered what it would be like to have his thoughts torn out of his skull. It felt wrong to feel this way; and yet it felt so right at the same time. He recalled Valcen's earlier order: to tell him about future instabilities. Was this an instability? It didn't feel like one... though it was hard to tell what instability felt like without access to the emotional state. Hmm.

Regardless, this was definitely not the right time to bring this up. Valcen was clearly still agitated from this whole mess, and asking to be strapped into the Torunyema would likely go over horribly. He'd give it perhaps a day or two; give both Valcen and himself some time to adjust to this change in circumstances.

Baishar exhaled tensely as Valcen-za announced he was finished, but remained silent for the time being; instead simply waiting until his deity saw fit to address him.

[01:13] It took a few minutes for Ryrha to be fully unstrapped. Valcen-za was clearly agitated – he swore softly under his breath as his claws slipped from one of her wrists' restraints, his feathers puffed up. He wasn't mourning her, but he was angry that he'd been pushed into this. He was upset, if not quite on her behalf.

And then she'd been carved back out of captivity. He nudged a shoulder against hers, silently instructing her to peel herself out of the seat in the direction of 'sha and Baishar. Whatever intelligence was left in her skull was sufficient to parse the command and decide to follow it, tipping her from a posture defined by the Torunyema's grip into one of slightly fearful submission.

'za placed one foot onto the seat, his forepaws holding its neck, his torso almost upright as he watched Ryrha's silent cower. She eased herself away from the havnateh, cautiously keeping him in sight a while longer – before letting her gaze wander, if only briefly.

And then she saw Baishar and took proper note of him, feathers puffing ever so slightly for a moment's confused but happy body language – and she half trotted, half bounded over to him, careful in the angle of her approach, evidently somewhat wary of 'sha. A soft sound emanated from her, an explicit and visceral pleading for companionship: Please soothe me, friend.

'za's expression had wandered to the Torunyema, evidently still not too keen on looking at Baishar. Still wearing those gloves. "Problem solved," 'za said, crisply addressing Tanak. "Might I get some privacy in exchange?"

If anyone dared to look at him, they would see that Tanak looked deeply pleased, radiating the smugness of someone who felt all of his predictions had come true – even if he had helped them along a little. "What for?" he asked, casually.

"I'd prefer not seeing you for a while," Valcen-za said. "Just... personally."

It was an insult, of course, but one on the lowest level of social relevance. Nothing was attacking Hesh Tanak's integrity as a Hesh. Nothing was condemning his skill or ability. He was simply not liked – something that would hardly come as a surprise to him. "That's fair. Then I'll leave you and your two inevitable slaves alone for now."

Valcen-za's hide rippled with a restrained venom, but he kept whatever comment came to mind to himself. "Thank you," he spat, tersely and insincerely, glaring at the Nayabaru as he turned to leave.

[01:57] Baishar was mostly confused by Ryrha's behavior, trying to translate the ghostly images he'd last seen in his now-blind eye into thoughts. Afraid of Valcen was obvious. But her joy at seeing him felt... deeply strange. A friendliness that he hadn't seen in... ever? Certainly not since before his first Alignment, and even then never so eager.

It was terrifying, unsettling, and visceral evidence of Valcen's mastery.

Baishar rose from his prone position to a sit, and pulled Ryrha into an awkward hug, for lack of a better idea of what he should be doing. His gaze found 'za, and he withered slightly under the sheer displeasure in his appearance. He shut his eyes for a moment, grimacing at the conversation with Tanak, trying to ignore the Nayabaru lest his rage return.

Long, tense moments passed, and then Tanak was gone. That 'za was pointedly not looking at Baishar the entire time did not go unnoticed — a fear had begun welling up in his chest that he'd done something wrong, that he was the source of 'za's current displeasure. He remained silent, still, eventually managing to find the presence of mind to cycle his right eye back to photonic vision.

[02:24] And when Tanak was gone, 'za's posture slouched. He was still wearing the gloves, no hint of a gesture suggesting he was about to remove them. It looked strange, seeing him with them while facing away from the Torunyema, with his eyes not black at all.

Numbly, he settled down from his stand into a sit instead.

'sha nuzzled at Baishar's shoulder, then arced away from him and Ryrha, padding to 'za to bury his muzzle in his mane and slip his arms around his shoulders.

Ryrha was nipping at the feathers of Baishar's jaw, gently fussing with them, pressing herself partly to the ground and partly to Baishar's flank, clearly content to be with him and in need of the assurance that came with his physical proximity.

[02:25] "Open secret: I hope this place burns to the ground," Valcen-za said, finally, his tone grating. "Too bad Ryrha's not really... here to appreciate that. I'm sure it would appeal to her Dynash sense of justice."

'sha purred into 'za's mane for a moment, a soothing noise. "Give it time."

"I just loathe that I have to," Valcen-za hissed softly, still glaring into the direction Tanak had disappeared into. "And that I have to dance to their fucking tune. I swear, I prefer the Karesejat to every single one of the Hesha. At least the things she compels me to do make a lick of strategic sense. Not like this. Just... wasted potential.

"And all for what? The cheap thrill of winning an informal, year old bet?" 'za was clearly furious, although in a steady-voiced way.

"Do you think that's what this was about?" 'sha asked, subdued curiosity in his voice.

"Were you not listening to what Tanak said?" 'za grimaced, irritated. "'Inevitable'. We've had this conversation. 'Oh, Valcen, you're wasting your time with the kavkema. They'll never truly support you,'" he mimicked Tanak. Numbly: "He could have taken her back to the Pens. It would have been kinder."

[03:33] Baishar briefly looked up to 'sha in uncertainty as he left, unsure if the invisible misstep he'd made had upset both instances of Valcen — but it didn't seem that way. 'za needed comforting, clearly — probably moreso than Baishar himself did. He was tempted to follow, but Ryrha — or whatever was left of her — clearly wanted to stay with him, and was clearly uncomfortable near Valcen.

He wasn't sure what to do, in this situation. Surely the needs of a god outweighed the needs of this... husk. But it wasn't a husk, there was a mind in there, he'd seen it. How much of one? Enough to recognize him, to be friendly with him.

Eventually he decided to continue comforting 'Ryrha'; if nothing else, 'sha would be better at comforting his first incarnation than Baishar would. Instead, he simply listened, nuzzling the woman pressed against him.

It was strange, watching Valcen converse with himself like this, clearly of two minds. It wasn't until the last exchange, though, that he felt a need to finally speak up. "He's wrong." Baishar's gaze rose to meet Valcen-za's, all fear and dismay temporarily banished. "I support you," he said, his body language echoing his words.

"Is it a surprise that Tanak did not choose the kinder option? He is a Hesh; we are kavkema. 'Kindness' is not to be expected of them. You are right; they deserve to be destroyed for what they have done." That Valcen was surely planning to do so was no surprise. "And I know you will. And... when you do, I hope that I will be able to witness it." He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing a thousand Hesha strapped into Nayabaru-sized Torunyemaa, taking a brief exhilarated glee in the fantasy.

[03:48] The glance that Valcen-za gave Baishar – the comments having finally broken whatever spell had kept him from daring to meet his protégé's gaze – was not quite annoyed, not quite supportive. There was a stern undercurrent to it, and a bitterness, an exasperation, but also an appreciation. It was a strange mixture to behold.

"You support me," Valcen-za said, crisply, firmly. "Because I made it so. And I appreciate your support, regardless of the fundamental source of your motivation, but you should still have the clarity of mind to know that you were previously less... eager."

To Baishar's ears, it sounded like a chiding, as though Baishar had fallen short of the ideal of a loyal servant. As though noticing that detail with some delay, Valcen-za licked at his teeth, then said: "I don't hold your past against you. It's not wrong, any more than... Ryrha was wrong to have nightmares."

He stared at the remnant of the Dynash kavkem for a moment. "She had her reasons."

[05:25] Baishar lowered his head almost instinctively, feeling chastised — but he did not take his eyes from Valcen-za. For long moments, he was silent, turning Valcen's words over in his head, before he finally spoke again.

"I am aware of my past shortcomings," he replied, picking his path through his words carefully. "Do you remember what you said to me, when we first met in the Pens? The offer you made? Freedom from the Nayabaru, in exchange for absolute obedience." A sad smile crept across his features. And Ryrha called me a fool for accepting. "You've given me so much more than what you promised, in spite of all my failings at holding up my end of that bargain. My disrespect, my stupidity, my cowardice.

"Now tell me — or at least, ask yourself, and answer honestly — how much of the old Baishar did you have to change to get me here? Because I do not think you changed very much. I am still more Baishar than anyone else. Am I not still a kavkem? Does my support not count as a kavkem's support?" His tone was strangely calm, even encouraging, given the circumstances — perhaps just an ease of compartmentalizing his feelings when faced with a distraught Valcen.

§ 2020-03-08 17:48:43

[17:48] There were many things Valcen could have responded in direct dispute. They could have argued until Baishar relented. It wouldn't even have taken long, given Baishar's state of mind and his willingness to yield to Valcen – but if he submitted to the arguments out of an inherent desire to please his master, then very little was gained.

Does my support not count as a kavkem's support?

'za stared at Baishar in displeasure, at the inferential gap. It's not what you are now, it's what you were before. A strange expression invaded his body language, an ambiguous emotion suspended partway between suspicion and aloof generosity.

He pushed himself to a stand, exhaling audibly, turning to face his protégé. "Come here, Baishar," he commanded, gesturing a beckon with his left paw, its claws and feathers still concealed.

§ 2020-03-11 00:19:36

[00:19] The long silence slowly gnawed at Baishar's confidence, Valcen's displeased stare digging into his attempts to soothe his master. Perhaps trying to help was a poor idea, if he was uncertain whether it would make things any better. If Valcen wanted his help, he could easily ask for it. But there was a deep desire to be useful, to be able to anticipate Valcen's needs and provide them without needing to be asked first. Perhaps that was just something he needed to get better at.

At Valcen's beckon, Baishar stood — briefly glancing down at Ryrha, who seemed confused about his sudden motion — and dutifully padded over to Valcen, lowering his head in a gesture of submission. Tell me how to help you.

[00:44] Once Baishar was close enough, Valcen-za reached forward with his right hand, slipping it under Baishar's jaw, loosing grasping the back of it and lifting it with his wrist. His left hand brushed against the side of Baishar's face, motions approaching his eye without that it was ever at sudden risk – but the obvious progression was still instinctively alarming.

Then the gloved tip of a claw tapped against the artificial sclera, and eased itself into the nook that would cycle its modes. A starry background rippled into view, mixing with Baishar's subjective impression of tangible reality like a strange haze.

Then Valcen shifted his weight, tugging Baishar forward and up, twisting the submissive kavkem's muzzle – gently, but without giving him much of an impression that he was likely to tolerate any squirming or reluctance – to look squarely at the Torunyema.

In the neutrino vision, an intimidating forest of curved needles came together without so much as a gap between them, filling the space several inches immediately under what in photonic vision was the bottom edge of the device.

Technically, he'd seen this before – each line's strange surface pitted almost imperceptibly in the neutrino light, currently static, not immersed, not making changes, simply biding its time. Like a spider's web.

"See those strands?" Valcen-za asked, mildly, encouragingly. "Each one of those was in here," he commented, reaching with his other hand past his right arm to run his claws lightly across the back of Baishar's skull, lightly scratching between his feathers. "Every. Single. One.

"What do you think that did to your head, Baishar?"

§ 2020-03-13 23:56:20

[23:56] Getting used to the motion of placing a claw in his own eye was one thing — he had control over both hand and eye, it was easy to predict, to make subtle adjustments. Watching Valcen's claw, even gloved, slowly approaching his eye was another thing entirely. There was a brief moment where Baishar's eyes closed, just a single terrified breath. Then the weight of his obedience settled upon him, and with conscious effort, he opened his eyes again, as widely as he could, staring directly forward and pointedly ignoring the motion in his peripheral vision.

A tap, a moment of alien pressure later, and half his vision was replaced with the night sky.

And then Valcen guided his gaze to the Torunyema, that masterpiece of Valcen's creation. He'd seen it this way once before — the strands that planted themselves into their victim's head — but that time Valcen-za had been there, to demonstrate how it worked. Now it was empty, lying in wait to claim its next victim.

How Baishar yearned for that next victim to be him. How he yearned to feel the straps securing him tightly in its frame, to have those strands nestled among his synapses, to have Valcen's gentle hand rearranging them to his whim.

Baishar made a soft sound, suspended somewhere between terror and desire, as Valcen's claws lightly ran against the back of his skull. Please put me back in there. Please. And yet he didn't ask that. Valcen was asking him a question; he was expecting a response. If Valcen wanted to put him into the Torunyema, he merely had to ask, and Baishar would obey. This was meant to be a lesson, not a promise or a threat.

What did that do to my head? It seemed like a simple question... and yet he didn't really understand how the Torunyema worked, only what it did — only the effects. Still, he understood some things about the representation it produced, how to manipulate that. "It... let you move things. Change things; remove things. To reshape me to your will, like... like a carving of wood, but where the wood is alive, is a person." If there was any terror there, it was drowned out by the sense of awe at what Valcen could accomplish.

[00:25] Valcen made a soft affirmative noise – an unenthused grunt, like someone accepting a verdict for its bland veracity, not for its flattery. "And do you think that's a gentle rearrangement? How much of the original Baishar survived getting raked through those spines, do you think?" Valcen asked, his tone one of patience.

But he didn't wait for an answer to coalesce out of Baishar's wonder and private yearning.

"I value you as an assistant," Valcen purred lightly. "More than you might even realise, perhaps. When I said that what you would become in pursuit of your goals would not be you in any appreciable sense, your current state was not what I had in mind, but we've already reached that point, Baishar.

"And while I've tried to maintain your first order goals, I've rearranged you around them, with this." He nudged him forward very slightly, until the tip of his muzzle touched the intangible strands.

[01:23] Valcen's words ran into a wall in Baishar's mind. Do you think it's gentle? Had it not been? There had been no pain, it had felt gentle. And yet, how could it have been painful? The mind had no receptors for pain; Valcen had said as much, long ago. Would it have hurt, if he'd been able to feel it? Did that question even make sense?

Was it even relevant? His thoughts returned to his original source of confusion, trying to prise meaning out of what Valcen was telling him. After a long moment he managed to ask: "...Are you saying she was right? That the old Baishar is gone, erased, and I'm... what's left?" Not so different from Valcen, himself, a long-forgotten memory pointed out, recalling his struggles coming to terms with what Terenyira had done to his beloved master.

"...I suppose there is no way for me to tell. There is no way for me to tell what... what remains and what was lost." Of course it wasn't all reduction — it couldn't be. There were other changes, additions. This undeniable desire to let Valcen do what he wanted to him, that he was almost certain was new.

[01:31] "Precisely," Valcen purred, increasing the pressure on his claws ever so slightly. "How do you think— how would you model your previous self? Do you think the old Baishar ever had this sense of yearning? Do you find that a subtle change?"

It was spoken almost as though Valcen had no need of the Torunyema to read Baishar's mind – but if Valcen had put the desire into Baishar's head in the first place, he would of course be entirely aware it was there.

Perhaps some of the details might be lost to him, perhaps he didn't even know just how visceral it was, how little it had in common with intellectual reverence – but he would know.

"Do you think your old self would have wanted this? Do you think any kavkem would want this, without first being rearranged for it?"

[01:53] The realization that Valcen knew what he was feeling without even seeing it in the Torunyema finally put the missing piece into place. Of course he knew; he put it there himself. Why? As an assurance that he would be willing to put himself into the Torunyema the next time something went amiss. But it served a second purpose as well.

Because Valcen was right — as he always was. The old Baishar wouldn't have felt this way. No kavkem would feel this way, they would be terrified of the Torunyema — as Ryrha had been, as Netami had been, as any kavkem dragged in by the Nayabaru had been. Not — as Valcen said — without being rearranged for it.

This feeling was a mark Valcen had left upon his mind, a gentle but firm reminder of his power, and of Baishar's own place. It was a mark of ownership, a sign he could point to and remember what Valcen had done to him. For a moment, he marveled at the elegance of it, the nature of its own self-reinforcement. Valcen truly knew what he was doing.

"No," Baishar whispered, a jittery tension in his voice. "No, you're right. I'm not... really a kavkem any more, am I?" The question reverberated through his thoughts, then what am I? But the answer was obvious, apparent almost as soon as the thought to ask it had formed. "I'm your assistant."

[02:20] "That's right," Valcen whispered, an encouraging undercurrent in his words. Gradually, his grip on Baishar's skull relented, letting him once more move as he pleased. He straightened himself out, letting his gaze travel up to the Torunyema, his attention lingering on it – blindly, in a way, with only photonic vision registered by his eyes right now.

As Baishar watched, a certain bitterness seemed to infect Valcen-za's posture, as though perhaps he were fundamentally displeased by his inanimate creation.

But only a sigh came of it, before Valcen glanced back at Baishar. "You'll tell me if you need anything, won't you?" 'za asked, smiling loosely. It seemed so backward on the one hand – the master asking his servant if he wished for anything – yet so very Valcen on the other hand. Baishar's god was a gentle god; one truly worth serving.

[03:03] Baishar scarcely moved as Valcen's grip released him, holding himself still for long moments before it became clear that Valcen was giving him tacit permission to move again. He gradually settled into a slightly more natural posture, only reluctantly tugging his gaze away from the Torunyema towards Valcen-za.

There was a hint of concern in Baishar's expression as he watched 'za stare at his creation. If only I could see your thoughts as clearly as you can see mine, Baishar thought for a moment, yearning for a closeness that would never truly come. Although Valcen had left a mark within him, had rearranged Baishar to his purposes and therefore left some echo of his purposes within him, the asymmetry in the relationship was clear.

Valcen's smile helped dispel some of his concern, but it still felt like a mask. The question felt at once strange and obviously normal. Valcen had always been concerned for his servants. "Of course," Baishar replied. A moment later, he tentatively brushed his muzzle against 'za's mane, attempting to be soothing. "...And I know you'll do the same. Is there nothing I can do for you now?" Please. I just want to help you be happy.

[03:08] "Be with Ryrha," Valcen-za instructed, softly. "Get used to her. I know it's not easy; but she's still far more intelligent than you might realise. She just can't reason herself into a terrified corner any more." Nor tell us about it if she does.

"Distasteful though it may be, I'll need to talk to Tanak about a few things, and it's best I do so without you next to me to take a share of the blame for what I'm going to say."

[03:22] Baishar's gaze instinctively turned towards Ryrha — though he had to actively turn his head to see her, as his eye was still set to neutrino vision. ... No, it would not be easy. He was already not used to it; but perhaps he would be able to acclimate to her situation. She can't reason at all. But Valcen knew what he was talking about; if he said she was more intelligent than she seemed, he was almost certainly right.

Baishar breathed out a soft sigh, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead — as no doubt Valcen was doing the same for his own. "Very well." He turned his gaze back to 'za, bowed his head. "...And good luck with Tanak," he added, tone a mixture of sympathy and encouragement, before turning and padding back to Ryrha.