Weight

§ 2019-11-10 02:33:51

[02:35] The swollen disk of the sun hung in the sky, its edges whispering in the language of hollow pipes and sharpening blades, threads of its glare curving in elegant calligraphy. Indifferent but interminable, it carved into the landscape at irregular intervals, its fleeting touch so narrow as to be no likely threat to anyone in particular, but no less punishing for it.

One could see the deep furrows it had left on the snowless slope – the scratches of a cosmic claw. Sunlight ran down them like syrup, creeping past dry bushes into the forest.

Tinted goggles shielded Baishar's eyes from the relentlessly blue sky. Valcen needed no protection, having simply done away with his eyes entirely; the sky was visible through the cut-outs, as though they punched right through to the firmament.

Valcen's forepaws were sheathed in sleek black gloves, their backs adorned with elaborate, labyrinthine copper wires like a decorative circuit-board.

Nestled against his wrists glowed smooth blue ovoid sapphires – polished gemstones with a light of their own. The wires wound around them in a tight spiral, then vanished into thin white cables that followed the curve of Valcen's arms and ended at the back of his skull, disappearing under his feathers.

Not far ahead of them stood the first of a long line of emaciated poles, bending gently in the hot winds, the banner of the Karesejat fluttering from its tip, as it did from all the others. They could see far along the curving mountainside from here, and Baishar could make out six of the threatening markers from here.

"Here we are," Valcen said, his voice eeriely crisp. He stepped over one of the trickles of sunlight before turning toward the forest. Baishar followed, driven by an urge his waking self knew no equivalent to; the thought of resisting his guide seeming as foreign and alarming as if someone were to ask him to dislocate his own shoulder.

The sunlight ran to either side of them in broadening, shallow streams, lapping at the tangled roots of trees, casting a golden light up into the canopy. As irregularly as the lethal tongue of the sun itself, a strong wind brushed at the trees, scattering their cover, spilling the sky's heat onto the forest floor.

The further they delved, the more wisps of spiderwebs hung between the branches, tattered, ghostly veils that thrummed silently when the steadier winds found the cracks to flow through to reach them.

Then the tatters grew to sheets, and the sheets to curtains. Gradually, the first kavkema appeared, caught in the filaments, exhausted from their struggles. Some of their feathers had extended into long and broad translucent paper strips, symbolic bearers of stories that served as vague annotations of themselves.

Most of it was unintelligible to Baishar, even with the light to illuminate them. Occasionally, he glimpsed a familiar term or concept – seiru, nuunei, siri, neimakanaach, qasai, Akynkulla, Shyilun, Dynash, gadech, manem—

Then the trees bent and a whisper lashed out from the solar disk, raking its cosmic claw up a gnarled tree, rippling across the spiderwebs and rending at a captive's ribcage, wrenching a scream from its victim. As the subdued shadows eclipsed the scene again, the sound twisted into a sob. Aetherially fluttering from the wound was Nitish Ynas.

Valcen paused, glancing toward the captive, a strange, distant compassion in his body language. If she noticed his presence, she gave no indication of it. Silently, he reached up to her face, running his fingers along the short feathers, stroking them to the back of her skull, resting his palm lightly against it.

As Baishar watched, one of the nondescript slips lit up just long enough to turn into a smoky wisp, losing itself to the gentle breeze. Another followed, distantly reminiscent of falling petals. As Nitish Ynas detached, winding into a stylised representation of the sun above written in smoke, Valcen withdrew his hand from her, smiling at the calmness she had sunken into.

§ 2019-11-10 22:32:21

[22:32] There was only Forward.

Thankfully, Valcen was there, to show Baishar the path as he always had. He followed diligently; carefully avoiding the pools of molten sunlight and the reaching claws of that solar body. He followed into the forest of the Karesejat's domain; through the thickening foliage. Some part of him knew she was terrifying; a representation of boundless suffering. But Valcen was here, so he felt no fear. Valcen would protect him, as he always had.

As the webs grew denser, Baishar couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the kavkema stuck in them. Pieces of souls fluttered in the occasional breeze, only a few fragments recognizable. A part of him would have loved to stop and study, to read all these fragments and understand them. But they were not Forward, and so he did not.

The scream drew his attention, as it had Valcen's; Valcen stopped, and so he did as well. Is this where we're going? he asked. No — something else. Mercy? He watched as Valcen soothed her, gently peeling off the layers of Nitish Ynas.

This is for the best. Her faith would only cause her more suffering here. The truth of it was self-evident and eternal; he could not deny it. And yet, for some reason, a part of him wanted to scream.

He remained silent. There was only Forward.

[22:35] Further into the forest lay more kavkema, more than Baishar had ever seen in his life in total. Some were bound in twos, curled against each other in silence, perhaps amanata, perhaps just strangers seeking each others' touch, illuminated by the slowly shifting treacles of sunlight.

Valcen led Baishar further down the slope, keeping their path between the surreal rivers, effortlessly leading the way through thicker and thicker spiderwebs. There were captives overhead by now, in the branches of trees where they should have been safe. Occasionally, he paused, gently erasing traits from those suffering.

If someone had paused to tell Baishar that this increasingly dense tangle held all kavkema of Nekenalos, he would not have doubted them for a second.

[22:36] Finally, the alien light, mingling with spatters of narrowly more natural illumination from above, revealed an old-fashioned story-staff jutting from the ground up ahead, and a kavkem not caught up in the webbing: Netami, her eyes absent like Valcen's, yet unmistakably staring at them, awaiting their arrival.

The papers from the staff were corrupt – there was nothing intelligible on them, their surface recently diligently eclipsed with ink. Netami dipped her muzzle in a quiet greeting, then gestured to the closest strands. "This can be your home now."

Valcen grasped Baishar's closest wrist in one of his hands and smiled at him with an unsettling sincerity. "You're finally at the end of your journey," he said, guiding Baishar toward the vacant tangles. "Now it's time for you to rest and enjoy the peace you've always longed for."

[23:02] There was a moment of mild confusion as Valcen gently led him towards his new home. I should be appreciating this. This is my reward; my journey is over. It did not want to sit right. It did not align.

Still, he followed; gradually allowing himself to be led into the webbing. Something is wrong. First his wrists were bound, then the tangles began to gently wind around him, slowly lifting him from the ground. As they did, he saw his own feathers elongate, forming recognizable words.

Rarran. Kaaru. Mytot. Something was wrong. Why couldn't he remember what was wrong? Then a final one, extending into a long strand, and he remembered: Dynashari.

This wasn't where he was going. This wasn't the end of the path. He didn't even know where the path was, any more, or where he stepped off it. "Valcen!" he cried out, struggling against the webbing's embrace. "Help me!"

[23:12] Valcen smiled at him with a soothing air of a paternal figure. In the gentlest motion, he reached up to Baishar's muzzle with both forepaws, grasping it between them, making soft but guttural cooing sounds as any parent might. "It'll be all right," he whispered, those cut-out eyes glowing indifferently in the light of the sun. "Everything will be all right."

Something reached into Baishar and lashed through him, invisibly searing through his torso, knotting his thoughts into his throat, and the fluttering band that had whispered Dynashari to him dissipated in the breeze.

A startled whimper broke Baishar out of his nightmare and into a world where he was breathing through pillows and blankets that silent struggles had buried him amongst. Minimal motion sufficed to break free from the stale air, surface into the soothingly dim barely-lighting of the Den.

Ryrha lay curled up a few metres away from him, not easily accessible for anxious snuggling, but presumably easy enough to rouse for that purpose.

Valcen, however, evidently had yet to return. A lingering Baishar had witnessed that he'd left the Lair with the Nayabaru that came to untie Netami, vigorously discussing their work with them, to the degree he thought it healthy to do so in Netami's presence. They left before the discussion had even properly heated up.

Baishar dimly remembered the agreement that Valcen was going to meet up with him in the Den when the matter resolved. He dimly remembered letting himself sink into pillows, his mind racing with guilt and terror and confusion.

The ungodly hour must have taken its toll and torn him into sleep.

[23:52] For long moments, Baishar held still, scanning the room, some animal part of his brain convinced there were dangers lurking out of sight. Just the Den, as usual, and a slumbering Ryrha. The thought of approaching her for snuggles to calm his nerves was tempting; she might even appreciate it; but they were still not on the best of terms after his incident with the Torunyema.

Instead, he forced himself into a stand, shaking his feathers lightly, and quietly walked around the perimeter of the Den. Moving might give him something to focus on, other than the nightmare he'd just woken up from — and the nightmare he'd just woken into.

And yet, it kept dragging at his attention. Dreams could be gateways to insight; anyone who had spent enough time around ryrhakenema knew this.

Ryrhakenema like Netami.

What insight could be gained from something like that, though? More fear of what Valcen's plans were? More doubt over his goals?

Had he already stepped off the path? Was he veering into something else, into becoming a monster? Had he already veered too far? Did he have to focus on not losing sight of what was important?

What was important?

[00:11] What were Valcen's goals? At some point not too long ago, Baishar had been fairly convinced he understood them, on a vague, abstract level. Valcen had never spoken about them in detail, even in absence of the Nayabaru, as there was no guarantee the Nayabaru wouldn't try to beat it out of Baishar at some point; it was best kept solely in his own mind.

That made sense, of course, even absent the eternal truth Valcen knows what he's doing – any kavkem knew that was the first rule of damage reduction. You couldn't tell the Nayabaru what you didn't know about.

Nonetheless, it poisoned Baishar's doubts further.

But there was no one to help him untangle it. Valcen wasn't here. Ryrha was asleep and he was loathe to wake her. Even Tanak had done the dutiful bodyguard thing and accompanied Valcen – not that the Nayabaru was a source of advice on this topic.

Instead, Baishar was left to spiral through his own thoughts, agitated, for far more time than he might have wanted.

When Valcen finally resurfaced, there was something wrong about his posture.

The Valcen he knew had a purposeful, driven air, occasionally interspersed with frantic anxiety. The Valcen that entered the Den was just shy of dragging himself toward the pillows, silently nibbling at his forepaws. A vivid red mark ran across the right side of his muzzle, evidently shallow enough not to stain his feathers, interrupted by the same.

Something must have gone wrong.

[00:35] At one point, he thought the goals were at least somewhat clear. Restore Valcen to immortality. Help Evenatra. But how, and when? Was helping the Nayabaru just buying him time and favor, or was it leading to something more sinister? Did Valcen want to help Evenatra, or was that simply a lie to win Baishar's loyalty?

Valcen loves me. He knew that. But why? Simply because Baishar had agreed to help him? Because he'd agreed, perhaps foolishly, to do whatever Valcen asked of him, in exchange for his relative freedom and a chance at immortality?

... Was there even a chance? Valcen had said the project was moving at a good pace, but that was for Valcen's new body. Baishar's hopes were still little more than that: hopes. Valcen cared, but what did that mean? He wouldn't harm Baishar unless he had to, but what did he see as harm?

His thoughts continued in spirals of this approximate shape until Valcen's return. At first, he was nervous — what could he possibly say? — then he noticed that something was wrong. There was no confidence, no frenetic energy, nothing like that — he looked weary, almost crumpled. He hadn't seen Valcen in a state remotely resembling that since... since Gazhil.

When he saw the line of red across Valcen's muzzle, a wire of panic shot through his gut, and the doubts he'd been left with dissolved. They hurt him. Rage bubbled up and met with guilt: They hurt him and I wasn't there to protect him. It didn't matter that there was nothing he could have done against the Nayabaru; he should have been there.

Baishar approached Valcen, the rigid fear of before gone, replaced with a deep concern. He eyed the shallow wound, gingerly licking around it. "What happened?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Another lash of guilt, as a possibility presented itself. "...Did I do something wrong?"

[00:50] Valcen eased back a few centimetres at Baishar's attention before yielding to his fussing. Softly, sighed: "No." The tone alone suggested more fundamental problems. "They wanted to talk to Netami without my mediation," he began to explain, sounding tired and miserable.

"Which is all fine and well, but it's so easy to undo what we put there, so I told them what not to talk about with her." A pause. "Nayabaru don't like it when you tell them how to do their jobs, of course. And in that exact minute, Tanak wasn't there quick enough to shield me from the consequences."

He let himself sink down into the pillows, loosely and listlessly stretching himself out on them. He cast a numb gaze up at the ceiling, anchoring it on a spot somewhere between the dim lights. "...I can't do this, Baishar," he said, softly. "I can't keep doing this. I can't ask you to do it for me."

§ 2019-11-16 03:51:33

[03:51] Baishar grimaced in sympathy at Valcen's explanation, and nuzzled his mane comfortingly. Inwardly, he berated himself for not being there to protect Valcen — and felt a twinge of anger towards Tanak. This is your job. If there is anything you should be good at, it's this.

The second comment drove a spike through his gut. I can't ask you to do it for me.

Everything he'd been worrying over, having literal nightmares over, crashed up against that sentence. Valcen cares about me. Yes, he cared about Baishar, that didn't translate into caring about other kavkema. He wouldn't manipulate me. Except he'd done precisely that.

And yet now, of all times, Valcen radiated uncertainty. Valcen, who knew what he was doing. Valcen, who had gotten hurt. Valcen, who always had a plan and now seemed to be doubting it.

...Was Valcen consumed by doubt too? How could that possibly be?

It could be a trick, a part of him reasoned. A ploy to keep him in line, a subtle manipulation. It was hard to believe that, though, when presented with Valcen's distress. Valcen had to be protected, though why was still a question he couldn't answer. Another axiom you put in my head.

For a long time, Baishar stood there, frozen in thought, wrestling between the unwelcome insight and the pain in his heart at seeing Valcen in this state. Finally, he dipped his muzzle, and forced himself into a seat, his gaze locked on Valcen, expression painfully neutral. "What's the alternative, then?"

[04:43] What's the alternative?

There was no quick answer. Valcen stared at the ceiling, transparently wrestling with himself. He brought both of his arms up, gently pressing his lower arms against the sides of his muzzle, breathing past his elbows, an awkward posture.

Then he let them fall back down.

"I don't know," he said, finally, keeping the conversation to a whisper. "I don't know if possible solutions aren't... more abhorrent than the status quo. But I know their patience is thin. I know all this freedom we both enjoy can disappear so easily. And if I screw this up, then everything I've done until now will have been for naught.

"We did everything they asked. Nonetheless, I came so close to screwing up today, Baishar. Even if we push ourselves, it's only ever going to be barely enough. It can never be more than that. I have no illusions about that.

"But if I fail, I can't help Evenatra; I can't save individual kavkema from torture; I couldn't architect, as a fall-back plan, Ryrha's grand plan of... kavkem extinction, or anything like it. I couldn't do anything but rot away in a cell – and every individual sacrifice that was made along that errant way would be wasted to that single foolhardy, emotional defiance."

He brought his gaze around to Baishar, staring at him. "And yet, despite being fully lucid of that, I want nothing more right now than to put an end to this," he said, again, with a numb, self-reflecting fascination.

With his gaze still fixed on Baishar, crinkled but touched by a certain determination, he spoke: "I know what I'm doing. I know why I'm doing it. I know where I want to take this, how these puzzle pieces come together in the end. And I know the only way forward is through this tasteless pandering to the obsessions of the Nayabaru.

"It's all worked out in theory. It's elegant, it makes sense, it's correct. Everything plays its well-orchestrated part. I've gone over it so many times by now.

"And still I just want it to end. I can barely think of anything else and it must be so much worse for you. It's like a cancer in my mind. Suffocating any productive thought. Threatening to jeopardise everything." His body spoke a language of pain and determination. A terse sigh. "I think we may have to change it. I— I can't have this emotion. It's too dangerous; it serves no one."

§ 2019-11-16 13:21:18

[06:16] It was so strange, hearing mirrors of his own thoughts in Valcen's words. Despite being fully lucid of that, I want nothing more than to end this. Baishar knew that Valcen knew what he was doing; and yet that wasn't really the problem. Everything plays its well-orchestrated part. Its part in what, though? Where was it all going?

A cancer in my mind, threatening to jeopardize everything. The phrase tugged at his urge to protect; to keep Valcen safe from what was clearly only going to hurt him. And then the next few sentences cracked through Baishar like a whip. Change it. Remove it. Carve it out of his mind.

Valcen wouldn't be able to do that himself; he couldn't easily see the structures from within the Torunyema, let alone operate it. And only one other person could do the work. Only one other person knew how to operate the Torunyema, could even see what it showed, could follow Valcen's instructions precisely.

How convenient, that the only one who could do this was also bound to Vasharesh's service.

Something in Baishar sheared, twisted, until it snapped.

"You want me to—" His voice caught in his chest. No. I can't do this. "Valcen—" The word was on the tip of his tongue. He just had to say no.

He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to defy Valcen.

He tried another approach. "I... I just..." His voice trailed off for a moment, searching for the word. "I just butchered a ryrhakenem's soul for you. In the span of maybe half an hour, she went from hating the Nayabaru and everything they stand for to desperation for any way to help them.

"I know it was necessary. I know there was no other way forward. I know any other course of action would have been foolhardy. It doesn't change that it was wrong; it doesn't change that if it were up to me, I would never use that thing again."

He closed his eyes, willing the anger and fear out of his voice. "And now you want me to edit your mind, so that... so that you can continue your plans without a conscience to get in the way." He paused for a long moment, letting himself come to terms with the words he just spoke. "...Do I have that right?"

[14:32] Valcen's expression adopted a pained frame. He cast his gaze past Baishar, glancing across at Ryrha. He lingered in the posture – perhaps contemplating something. Ryrha, after all, had not been tampered with. All the more interesting that his posture was one of regret and yearning, rather than of suspicion or concern.

But he still drew the expected conclusions. "Not entirely," he whispered to Baishar, bringing his gaze back around, glancing up at him from his own awkwardly draped angle. "Can we talk about this in my office? I don't want— she's had enough nightmares already. We're both more resilient than her, for better or worse."

He was already pushing himself up from his splayed posture. He looked scolded and beaten, not at all like someone who had a grand plan, not like someone who was making an easy decision.

[19:48] Not entirely. It was a frustratingly vague statement. At the oblique mention of Ryrha, he turned his gaze over to her sleeping form. She's had enough nightmares already. What did he mean by that? How would talking about this out of her presence make any difference? Was he worried they'd wake her? Was he worried she'd find out what he was planning?

It didn't really matter. One venue for discussion was as good as another. Valcen knew what he was doing. He had a plan, even if it didn't look like it. "Of course," Baishar replied, and turned to follow Valcen diligently.

[19:49] Valcen led Baishar out of the Den, past the gate to the Lair, and pressed past the door to his office, holding it open for Baishar.

The office wasn't nearly as comfortable as the Den, but there was one padded kavkem-sized chair one could use to rest one's limb – Valcen gestured for Baishar to claim it – and one Nayabaru footstool repurposed as an elevated nest. Valcen clambered up into it, his feathers fluffing in distress.

"To get back to your question," he said, softly. "No. I don't want to remove my 'conscience'. It's critically important to my plans that I keep it. But there are parts of it that are more hindrance than help.

"Think of pain – you understand it would be foolish to do away with pain entirely, it's a useful mechanism in moderation, it teaches caution. Mutations that remove pain routinely prevent people from reaching even sexual maturity and are selected against.

"But if one could remove its extremes, or selectively disable it when the Nayabaru—"

He stopped himself mid-analogy, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Anyway," he continued with a sigh. "I want to— I need to keep compassion for the kavkema as a whole. I need to keep my empathy for those close to me – you, Ryrha. But who exactly am I helping with my empathy for the individual captives? Is it helping the captives? No; it doesn't make a lick of difference to them. Myself? Hardly.

"You and Ryrha? I like to think you're both more intelligent than to mistake some... emotional pain as some critical psychological infrastructure, given that I already put such great effort into keeping it from tarnishing my actions and decisions."

His tone of voice couldn't decide if it wanted to be matter-of-fact or thick with regret. "No, the biggest risk is of cumulative damage. I don't want editing myself to be habitual. I need to stay myself, not... whittle away at myself in tiny increments at a time, no matter how much the Karesejat would no doubt like that."

...privately, Valcen thought about how much the Karesejat would take delight in that outcome. It would be perfect for her purposes. Was that what she was hoping to achieve? The current situation felt more like an inevitable accident of Nayabaru culture, but had she been factoring it in all this time?

Was she simply waiting for circumstances to erode him away? Had she agreed to his deal because she expected him to disappear under the weight of his own decision?

He wouldn't put it past her. It was certainly one thing she could afford to be patient about.

He willed the knot in his throat aside, forced himself to speak: "I need to be functional – not psychologically enslaved to the Nayabaru. I need to pursue my goals, not the goals of the Karesejat."

§ 2019-11-23 21:24:02

[21:19] Empathy for the captives.

What could Valcen accomplish, without such a thing to restrain him? He'd still care about kavkema as a whole. He'd still care about you and Ryrha. How much further would he go, though? Where would this end?

And yet... Valcen knew what he was doing. And with the talk of cumulative damage, it was clear he wasn't going to continue modifying himself. And yet, and yet, and yet. The doubt still stuck in his mind, the unwelcome insight refusing to leave.

"Valcen, I..." Valcen loves you. Valcen would never hurt you. He might mangle another kavkem's soul for his mysterious ends but he would never hurt you. "...How much longer do you think this arrangement with the Nayabaru is going to last? How many mortal lifetimes, assuming your longevity project is successful?"

One of the things Valcen had said suddenly struck a chord, resonating with the awful uncertainty. "'Psychologically enslaved,'" he repeated softly, his gaze wandering to the side, turning the phrase over in his head. I need to pursue my goals, not Valcen's. "...Like what you've done to me." The tone wasn't accusatory, more like an observation than anything else. There was a kind of awe to it, the way one might feel awe in the presence of a raging wildfire. There is nowhere to run to.

[21:42] The pang of anxiety at Baishar's remark was real. Valcen's feathers bristled, making no attempt to contain what he thought about the subject, his eyes closing for a pained moment. Then he sighed. "Yes, Baishar," he said. "Like what I've done to you." A pause lingered as misery in his body language.

"I doubt you can fathom this, given the way I've done it, but try to understand this: I regret that. I regret that, even though I have to admit it probably saved us.

"No doubt you remember what you were doing, before your alignment. No doubt you remember that you thought it was a terrible mistake even before I did anything to you. Do you want to be the person that makes terrible mistakes?" Valcen asked, his calm voice only touched by the barest hint of a jitter.

"...as to your question," he continued, as though hooking back into the original conversation were a reasonable step at this point. "I would hope fewer than three lifetimes. If it takes longer than that, the chance I'll succeed will have already shrunk past a salvageable point.

"Does that change anything for you? Do you care if it's three lifetimes, or thirty, or three hundred?" he asked, sounding deeply tired and worn out, but in Baishar's eyes would not quite shake the aura of an immensely powerful spirit even in this state.

[22:19] Valcen's response lashed through Baishar's gut like a fast-acting venom, prompting a cringe from the kavkem. Even in his sleep-addled state, the chain of logic was clear. Following what you thought were your goals led to you making a terrible mistake. Valcen saved you from the consequences of that mistake. Valcen knows what he's doing, you do not. If you follow your own flawed vision, you will ruin everything for yourself — and worse, ruin everything for Valcen. Valcen loves you, and Valcen knows what he's doing, so you should just follow Valcen.

Every step rang true. It had to ring true. The fact that he recognized the manipulation didn't make it any less effective. He's right; I should follow him; everything will work out better for everyone if I do.

Baishar closed his eyes and leant his muzzle against the chair, quiet tears of fear and frustration leaking out. "No," he whimpered quietly after a long moment. "No, I don't want to make terrible mistakes," he repeated, his voice little more than a whisper.

Three lifetimes. Did it matter? Guilt coursed through his veins. "I just... I'm afraid." He could feel his throat constricting. "I'm afraid of how many more people will end up like her. I'm afraid of where this is going. I know you have a plan, and I thought I knew what you wanted. But I don't. I don't know the plan, and I don't know why."

[22:34] Valcen's tiredness persisted through Baishar's outbreak. There was something in his body language that suggested that he wanted to climb over to Baishar, nuzzle the confused kavkem, and nurse his thoughts back to happier states the old-fashioned way, but instead he held still.

"Let me tell you a secret," Valcen said, in a tone that suggested what he was about to say wasn't a secret at all – just something he hadn't bothered to speak about before. He hunkered down a bit further on his perch, letting his gaze drop. "I'm afraid, too – even though I know where this is all going.

"But you and I know, Baishar, that sometimes, just because you know something, doesn't make the emotions about it go away." He glanced over at Baishar, part in bitterness, part in compassion. "Do you understand that we're both in pain at the moment? This is the pain of being made to do things we both despise.

"It doesn't feel necessary, because it's not directly part of the plan. It merely enables our plans. To our emotions, that feels like a very weak excuse, doesn't it? And you can't sit down and work out what we can achieve if we keep moving forward, because you don't know, and I can't tell you, because the Nayabaru will torture it out of you if they ever get wind of it.

"But let me tell you – even once you've done that work, even once you've figured out exactly where this is going, it's still vile. It'll never be anything other than vile. We can let that control us, or we can use our own tools to transcend it. I prefer latter option. Are you going to help me, or do I need to find another solution?"

[23:21] Valcen was afraid, too. That realization struck at him, tearing at his doubts. It was at once jarring and oddly soothing — a strange duality. Valcen was a Havnateh; Valcen was in a kavkem body. How much of that fear was from which part?

His thoughts were circling; the ungodly hour was finally starting to claim his willpower. He let out an exhausted, defeated sigh. "What choice do I have, but to agree?" His right eye opened, locating Valcen. "...But please, not tonight. I don't have the strength for it. I don't know if I could, after everything else."

[23:46] Valcen seemed displeased with the answer, but not to the degree that he called it out. After a while of simply sitting on his perch, breathing and staring at Baishar, he finally dipped his head and closed his eyes in some opaque gesture, then clambered off the seat and moved over to his protégé, extending his muzzle to bump gently against his shoulder.

"I thank you for your sacrifice today," he whispered. "I don't mistake it for anything else. But even if it has no doubt taught you a great deal, it's clear that I should never torment you with that again – and once we've done this, I promise you that you will never have to do that, ever again."

There was a pause, and for a moment, it was unclear from his body languge whether he would continue. When he did, he brought his arms around to pet at one of Baishar's, gently fussing with the feathers. "I'm very sorry for the distress it's caused you. I know it's only a rational consolation that I feel the same way.

"We may be trapped in this nightmare – but we're trapped in it together. And I promise you, we are much, much smarter than the Nayabaru will ever give us credit for."