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Lore:Achilles Weaves a Cocoon: Difference between revisions
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==VII: Time Is a Fabric== | ==VII: Time Is a Fabric== | ||
"This is Misraaks." A name without title. | |||
"To those who renounce the violence of House Salvation and seek refuge in the House of Light, I will be landing a Skiff near Asterion Abyss. Bring only what you need. We must prioritize survivors over their possessions. Trigger message repeat." | |||
"Astiirabis," Turrha says. "I know that place. We can hide in the nearby caves." | |||
"Fine," Namrask says. He seizes his loom. Everyone stares and he realizes: survivors over possessions. | |||
"I am nothing without it," he protests. | |||
Oeriks and Eoriks pull it from him. "Yriks did not die to save a loom." | |||
They have been in the cave for two days when Namrask sees that their heat is sublimating the ice. Curious, sluggish with Ether-lack, he crawls over to the nearest wall and stares. | |||
Namrask looks into another cave. And another, and another. The infinite caves reveal an infinite number of Namrask, Oeriks, Eoriks, Turrhas, hatchlings, and survivors—only—here, they are frozen dead to the ice—here, they are cooked by Cabal—here, they spill in panic from the cave as Guardians gun them down. | |||
"Get out," rasps Namrask. | |||
"What?" | |||
"Up!" he bellows. "GET UP! WE HAVE TO GO!" | |||
At the raw fear in his voice, they bundle up the hatchlings and run. As if the Light has arranged it all and the Great Machine truly does watch over them again, they hear a transmission: "This is Misraaks. I approach under stealth. I will be at Asterion Abyss in five minutes. If you seek sanctuary, come to me. If you still swear to House Salvation, then in the name of the old laws, I ask safe passage. This is a mission of mercy." | |||
Namrask hunts for the twinkling distortion of camouflage against the black sky—there! Misraaks comes from Jupiitr, using the planet's emissions as backdrop. | |||
"We should disperse," he tells Turrha. "It is unwise to crowd together at a landing zone—" | |||
Their radios shriek—a horrific emission. A Vex maser beam catches the incoming Skiff, smashing it onto the ice. Propellant, air, and Ether burst into flame. | |||
Namrask is not surprised. The Light does not reach them; the Great Machine does not watch over them. "We need to move," he says. He reaches out to Turrha, to touch her. "We should go to—" | |||
A white mist envelops her. Tiny electrical discharges cover her armor. She looks up at him and gasps. The Vex teleport delivers a Goblin inside her, shattering her body. The machine, with its indifferent red eye, raises its weapon to fire. | |||
Oeriks dies almost instantly, shot by slap fire. Eoriks leaps to him and tries to capture the escaping puff of Ether—what old faith would call the passage of his soul—as if this will keep Oeriks alive. But Eoriks is killed too. | |||
Namrask puts himself between the hatchlings and the Vex. If he can only buy them one more moment, one more breath, then that is a better legacy than he ever hoped— | |||
"TO ME!" a young voice cries. "Eliksni, to me!" | |||
Misraaks comes after all. And he is not alone. The Light is with him. | |||
And a Guardian. | |||
==VIII: And Also Light== | ==VIII: And Also Light== | ||
They are going to the Last City beneath the Great Machine. | |||
"What are you afraid of?" Misraaks asks Namrask. | |||
"Why are you NOT afraid?" Namrask demands. The young one bewilders him. "What life could we possibly have there? They will take their revenge on us. And wouldn't we deserve it?" | |||
"Is there something I should know?" Misraaks asks dryly. | |||
"No," Namrask snarls, rubbing his bare knees where they protrude from his shell. "Yes. I was—" He stops. "No. I cannot tell you, because then you would have to tell the Humans. And I will not make you lie." | |||
"You do not want to be who you were before," Misraaks guesses. "Would you learn a new trade?" | |||
"I would like to weave," Namrask says. "I am not good at it yet. But I might be." | |||
"Weaving is a little like splicing," Misraaks says thoughtfully. "Splicers work in metal and flesh, not warp and weft. But the goal is the same: to nurture life with art, and nurture art with your life." | |||
"I distrust Splicers," Namrask grunts and rubs his chest. What would a Splicer do to him? Fill him with machine cancer, to make him strong again? Give him the corrupted Ether, the undying madness? | |||
Misraaks's primary eyes shine. "I am an older kind of Splicer. Those who look for the Light in all things. Maybe the right kind of Splicer can weave two peoples together. As the Awoken tried do, in the Reef." | |||
"But the Light is NOT in all things. It has left us. Why look for the Light when you can see so clearly who it favors?" | |||
"It was in us once," Misraaks reminds him. "It could be again." | |||
Namrask remembers such a time, across a vast and blood-soaked distance. | |||
"Riis…I was there, you know," Namrask whispers. "At the Whirlwind. After Chelchis fell, I sent ships to follow the Great Machine. I abandoned all those Houses that could not make war. I ordered my fleet to hunt the Machine. Many rallied after us. Each ship began its own war with the Humans. But maybe, I was first." | |||
Misraaks stares at him. Finally, he says, "I understand. Our people fear the Saint too. But I doubt the Saint ever knew them by name." | |||
*** | |||
Namrask settles in the area of the Last City that has been given to the Eliksni. By day, he shares a loom with others. By night, he whispers the names of those he has lost until he falls asleep. | |||
He sleeps well until the day a Human shouts at him: "Baby eater!" | |||
Namrask turns away. But he wants to shout back. About the closed air, closed life of a spacecraft. About the hatchlings who survived and the hard decisions about those who did not. He wished now they had been depraved enough to think of devouring Human young. | |||
But he sees the young Eliksni, like Eido. He wants to wail at their promise, at their hope. Eido dislikes and avoids him, which is for the best. | |||
Eventually, Namrask learns to weave for the Humans. His favorite task is making felt, but he also learns to work in silk. He likes the silkmaker, and runs it manually sometimes, pulling the thread from the spinneret with one hand and then another, maintaining the steady, even tension, which makes the best fabric. | |||
He wishes that he could weave in Light, like the Guardian Warlocks, who make fieldweave in a secret way. Maybe Misraaks will learn how to do that. | |||
One day, a machine comes to his market stall. He combs at his shell nervously. The machine-Humans are called "Exos." They remind him of the Vex; it is easier to look at their armored shapes than the unsettling softness of the Humans and two-souled Awoken. This Exo wears a colorful mantle. | |||
"I recognize you," the machine says. | |||
He quails. "Namrask sells fabrics," he croaks, pretending not to understand. | |||
"Namrask." She laughs quietly. "I am old, empty weaver. Almost as old as you, I think. But unlike most of my kind, I remember London—and you." | |||
He holds a bolt of fabric between them. She catches two of his hands: her machine flesh is warmer than his. | |||
"Timelines are born from each moment—we live on one thread woven into a vast tapestry. But what has happened between us, on this thread, is fixed. You cannot run from it. You are a butcher. You and I are still at war," she rasps. | |||
She releases his hands. He stares at her, breathing hard. Ether smokes from his mouth. | |||
She playfully taps on all four of his hands. "I am named for an ancient goddess," she says, "with as many arms as you. In her hands are dharma, kama, artha, and moksha. Law, desire, meaning, and finally, liberation. Freedom from the war of death and rebirth. Are you freed by your rebirth as Namrask?" | |||
He repeats, "Namrask sells fabrics." | |||
"Maybe." There is laughter in her voice. "But I do not think moksha has granted you true rebirth." | |||
"I have not forgotten what you did when you were Akileuks. And I never will," she says quietly. | |||
He stole that name, like any other plunder, and used it. A Human hero's name, a great warrior and famous runner: Achilles, which means "woe to the enemy." | |||
[[Category:Lore]] | [[Category:Lore]] | ||