Book One, Chapter 33 - What Are Friends If Not Those Infected With Compatible Madness?

Officially takes the title of longest chapter ever! I ended up fusing and pruning chapters "31" and "32" into this new delight, which I think flows a bit better and is hefty. And that technically makes three chapters edited! Good night!

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Trust no one. Care for no one. Keep your emotions as guarded as your will, as your flesh, as your holdings and secrets. It will not be enough to save you, in the end, for destruction of the self is the only guarantee- but it will allow you to dictate the terms of that destruction.

Faith is cheap. Trust is to be gained, not spent. Love is a sin, because it is weakness, and all weakness is the one cardinal sin.

-Historical journal, kept in the hidden libraries of the Feng Clan. Attributed to the Feng Patriarch. Unauthorized viewings punishable by six centuries of torment, ending in inevitable execution.

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She flinches at the light, crossing a threshold from the sanitized air inside the chamber to somewhere outside.

It’s not midday, closer to dusk if anything, and even still the sheer brightness of the sky so very far up above is enough to make her dizzy. She has to stop and blink for a moment, rubbing at her eyes.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Taurus mentions. “Hard to tell what’s going to affect you and what’s not. Did you know that things like sensitivity to light are altered as cultivation increases, even in those who don’t actively intend it? All without ever actually losing the ability to see? Sometimes in completely different ways, even. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Yes, definitely,” she mumbles as she rubs her eyes. “Truly fascinating. One fucking second.”

He laughs at that, but lets her adjust. Eventually, the pain in her corneas is cleared enough that she can look around properly.

She might have noticed if not for how long it took her to adjust, but she did not, in fact, emerge into the same building she was imprisoned in. Nor, quite obviously, is she in the hallways and underground spaces of the punishment hall. Instead, she stands in an opulent courtyard, sweeping pillars decorated with fine carvings reaching to a gorgeous ceiling above, covered by a mosaic that matches the movements of the sun and stars in artistic detail. All around are pillows cast to the rim of a great central lounging and meditation area, and fully half of the massive room is open to the sun and sky, reformed into a balcony to look over the entirety of Paleblossom city.

At first, she thinks they’re somewhere in the sect still, but as her eyes adjust she can see several of the plateaus around the city. Wherever they’re located is almost directly opposite the towering purple and red flags and structures of the Purple Flame Burning Lotus sect (gods, it’s still such a mouthful). Rather than that selfsame red and purple, her surroundings are gilded with fiery golden highlights, much of the walls and floor immaculate white, blue and royal purple in juxtaposition and broken up by veins of actual gold carved or formed in the room itself, crawling through the stone like divine veins and adding further patterns and decoration to the ambiance.

“Welcome to the Imperial Palace of Paleblossom city,” Taurus rumbles. “Take a moment. It’s a pleasant view.”

She looks out at the city and despite everything, has to agree. She can see the patterns of life in the movements of ant-like figures down below, the buildings, from modest homes of wood and clay to multi-story edifices of stone and precious metals, all done up in the pale blue, white and purple of the city’s colors. The entire thing is gently painted by a slight dusting of snow, just enough to highlight everything in lines of brilliant, clean white condensation.

If she squints, she’s pretty sure she can make out her old neighborhood from here. That’s when something else clicks, though.

She can see it. All it takes is a squint, and she can practically make out individual streets in the layout of a city miles below and away from her. She’d felt her eyesight improving with her overall toughness as she healed and practiced with Dink, but whether the difference before had been minute or something she adjusted to subconsciously, this is a world of difference from where she was. It’s not that surprising she didn’t notice, trapped in such a close space and relying as much on scent as sight to map her surroundings, but here, confronted with how crystal clear the world seems, she can’t help but choke out a laugh.

Taurus lets her be. He stands there, quiet, as she stares out at a city she wasn’t sure she’d ever see again, changed and still changing.

Then she takes a sharp breath, forcing her eyes to dry and turning to look at the rest of the room behind her.

The first most notable thing is the literal doorway made of jade in the middle of the room, completely disconnected from everything save the floor.

There’s a cavalcade of runic formations and diagrams covering its edges and the floor around it, connecting it in an almost three-dimensional map of arcane symbols, and through it she can see the room she was just in, located deep in the prison building of the purple-something sect and, from the look of it, dozens of miles away.

Then she promptly ignores it as she sees a table covered in aperitifs right behind it.

She might have said some words as she moved. Something to the effect of “ohmygodsfoodyes”, maybe, it’s hard to tell with how full of saliva her mouth has immediately become. Before Taurus moves to stop her she’s dashed forward, body strangely fluid yet animalistic in its motions and carrying across almost a hundred feet of floor space in an eye blink.

At which point she is faced by a waist-high collection of figs, dates, peach slices, pork slices and succulent duck, nuts and berries and jams and breads and dumplings and-

-and she’s stopped caring much at all about the magic door or the view.

She hears some muffled conversation behind her, some voices raised in surprise, others in what sound like laughter, with Taurus’ basso rumble trying to override most of them, honestly, none of that matters. They have duck. When was the last time she had duck? And what looks like sweet figs wrapped in bacon! Honey drizzled over warm cheeses! She barely notices the smell of Qi, flavored hot and metallic, and the luxury of eating off plates enchanted to keep food warm with said Qi; plates are far less important than the food they hold, which is in turn holding all of her focus.

The voices die down for a bit, which is only further evidence that no one minds if she keeps eating, surely.

Eventually she feels a hand grab her by the shoulder, massive enough that it could wrap around her neck all the way around with room to squeeze. It tugs her slowly back and away from the table, of which she’s only made it through two-thirds. Which is honestly so tragic- who else is eating that last third? No one!

“As I was saying,” Taurus rumbles, “this raggedy little animal is Raika. Raika, say hello to your fellow degenerates.”

She blinks, realizing that there are more people in the room than just her and Taurus.

There’s three of them, all of them holding mixed expressions at the sight of her ravenous introduction (which she will not be apologizing for; she didn’t even finish the table, there’s hardly even a need to apologize). They just stare at each other for a moment, before Taurus claps his hands very lightly, still loud enough for it to echo.

“I know it’s been rough for you, but you still need manners now and then,” he rumbles. “Introduce yourselves properly, children.”

She growls like an annoyed cat, then catches herself and reminds herself that for all his nonchalance, Taurus is a Nascent Soul cultivator, and one pretty damn high up in the realm. She swallows the mouthful of mixed nuts and cold cuts she still has in her mouth in one gulp, beginning to lightly bow towards the others in the room.

“Oh it’s fine, Taurus dear, I can go first,” says a melodious voice from across the room.

Decorating a fainting couch like an artfully made statue, a svelte figure stands to their feet. Their skin is a mix, flowing between gorgeous peach-pink and a strange, fruity gold color in uneven patterns. As they stand up Raika can see their hair is entirely loose, forming streams down their form and a large pool at their feet and on the fainting couch, their locks a brilliant gold that her mind and nose scream is a color called “platinum rose”, whatever that means. They bow, every movement accentuating a gorgeous yet noticeably androgynous figure wrapped in an orchid-styled kimono.

“This one’s most illustrious name is Hao Kaena,” the androgynous model says, every word like a  musical note. “It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a singular specimen as yourself, honored Raika.”

They send a mild pulse of Qi towards Raika, which, had she been able to sense it, she imagines would likely be shaped masterfully into a mix of soft invitation and gentle greeting. As it is, she is hit by a smell that seems to dance on the faintest breeze, filling her mind with the smell of… peaches, cream, and something else beneath them? A slight undertone of… not venom, more artificial. Toxin, maybe? Something rotten? Peaches, cream, softness, and a tainted, toxic flavor beneath it all, though it’s hard to tell if it’s hidden or a part of the picture.

Raika sneezes, the act of trying to focus on their Qi so much straining her senses. Kaena simply laughs, every giggle like a melody in itself. “My apologies,” they say. “I had heard of your unique circumstances, but hadn’t considered how they might complicate greetings.”

“...no problem,” Raika replies. “It… wasn’t unpleasant. Thank you for the… kindness and the grace of introduction, Hao Kaena. Not… really sure what the honorifics situation is here.”

“What do you know, it does have manners!” laughs a voice from the edge of the lounge area, collapsed bodily into a mess of pillows. “And here I thought you’d brought us one wilder than you, boss!”

Taurus doesn’t seem too bothered by the comment, but does pick up a fruit pit and flick it, mild note of Qi imbued, hard enough to hit the lounging figure in the ass.

“Fuck!” they yowl, in what Raika… thinks is an exaggerated reaction. “Every time, the ass. Something’s wrong with you people.”

They grumble but do sit up, letting her get a better look at them. They’re dressed in all black, and, interestingly, seem to be wrapped in leather rather than proper robes or even peasant clothes. They still have a robe thrown on overtop of the ensemble, but it’s entirely unbound and an added black note to an all-dark ensemble. She looks closer, and realizes that rather than simple leather clothing, it mostly consists of belts, many of them with strange rivets or metal needles poking through them. Arrayed in dozens of bandoliers and sheathes all across their body are… it takes her a moment, but they’re guns. Dozens of them, some small enough to barely measure against a finger, others large enough they seem they might eclipse their wielder’s entire forearm, all designed to be held with a single hand.

Looking at the figure’s face, the only part of them exposed, showcases a person that looks more dead than alive. Their skin is pale and looks cold to the touch, their eyes bloodshot and bright red in their pupils, whatever hair they might have hidden by a skintight hood of more leather. It’s the needles that stick out the most, though; beyond the serrated teeth, above the bright red eyes and sallow features, there are four needles seemingly stabbed directly through their skull and deep into their brain matter, arrayed like a crown.

“The name’s Taran Highthroned,” the figure says, this one a bit more audibly masculine. “I’m not getting up and I ain’t bowing. Sorry, Taurus, but it’s way too much hassle today.”

The large bull-man just nods, as if he expected it. Raika, meanwhile, gives him a much shorter bow; she can respect the vibes, but they seem rather… bored of the whole thing. With a sniff, she catches the lightest whiff of something alchemical, but the details elude her easily.

“And I’m Yun Ka,” a third voice finally speaks up. “I’m the one in charge of keeping the door open while the honored Runemaster Boriah is busy introducing our new member.”

Taurus laughs, extending his Qi in a wave that has Raika sneeze again, much harder, towards the jade doorway. As soon as he does she hears a sigh of relief and the sound of someone stepping back across the tiles of the floor, and she turns to get a good look at them.

They give her a tired wave. Surprising her, the figure is feminine, visible despite how many layers of lenses, chains laden with tools, and what looks like a solid block of pale green jade they have in a metal cage connected to their hip. Taking a moment to recover their breath, she huffs, then turns to Raika and gives a proper bow, much more officious than Kaena’s. “Greetings, honored mutant Raika!” she says. “This one’s name is cultivator Yan Ku, apprentice runesmith and assistant to Runemaster and project Researcher Boriah. It is my honor to join you in your journey, and it is my hope we will greatly benefit the Empire and its people with our joined efforts!”

She stands upright, pushing a sweaty strand of black hair out of the way of startling green eyes, made all the more startling by the magnification the lenses she’s wearing impart.

Forest-green eyes, like a sea of cutting leaves.

Raika tenses, every muscle in sync, her heart pulsing a blast of energy so powerful she feels her entire body shift in some kind of unquantifiable way, taking a step forward towards those eyes-

And Taurus clamps a single oven mitt of a hand over her shoulder, the grip and weight of it enough to hurt. She starts to growl, not noticing how strangely it vibrates through her lungs or how the room around her echoes strangely with it, before he drags her fully back a half-step. He breathes out a blast of Qi, so pure she can almost see the thing, the impossible beast, directly behind her, ready to snort and turn her to paste against the tiles in this majestic room.

“I’ll explain later,” he rumbles, deeper and louder than before. He doesn’t need to growl; something as simple as adding emphasis is enough to make the air in the room vibrate from the tone of his voice and the weight of his Qi.

“But-” she snarls, like a kitten, like an idiot who knows better but still wants more.

“No,” he rumbles, like a storm made into towering flesh and pure steel. “If you attack a member of my team, on your first day, I will throw you back in that room and let them find the rotten puddle I make of you.”

Hardly understanding what she’s doing, Raika lets out a breath she was somehow holding, her heartbeat slowing, beat by beat. She takes a deep breath in, breathing heavily the scent of the ocean of Qi around them, forcing her body and mind both to react to it.

Feng Gui is not here.

Feng Gui is not here.

She breathes out.

“I apologize,” Raika says, bowing towards Yan Ku. “I’m afraid I let an old memory overwhelm me for a moment. My name is Raika, as you all know. I’m not sure why I’m here, or what shall be asked of me, but my conduct was unbecoming of my current bearing, even without cultivation.”

Taurus gives her a weird look. “You really can be rather polite when you feel like it, can’t you? Or is that a consequence of your isolation?” he rumbles.

She gives him a nod, careful to note the hand still on her shoulder. “Good skill to have,” she says. “Just not something I like to use if I don’t have to or want to.”

He rumbles, and she realizes it’s a chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“I apologize as well,” says Yan Ku, clicking and clacking like an automaton as she disengages lenses and a whole crown of metal arrayed with tools on her head, shaking free her hair. “Whatever the fault may be, I spoke in haste, and did not mean to startle you. Cultivator Yan Ku apologizes to honored Raika, and thanks her for her understanding.”

Raika snorts, but nods after Yan Ku shoots her a worried look. “It’s fine,” she says. “It was my fault, and if the big fella doesn’t mind, you probably don’t have to be so fancy either.” She shoots a glance up at Taurus, who doesn’t react to the comment.

“So,” comes the voice of Taran from where they’re still lounging, “what’s so special about this one, boss?”

It’s a valid question, Raika thinks, matching up with everyone else in the room as they turn to look at Taurus.

“Well,” the minor titan says with a broad smile, “Raika here apparently has a Truth.”

The room devolves back into exclamations and shouting.

“This little thing?” Taran howls. “She’s crippled! No cultivation! You’re telling me she bounced back all the way to a Truth?”

“Oh my goodness!” Kaena has exclaimed in the meantime. “What a marvelous development! You must be one of a kind, darling!”

Yun Ka has not stopped speaking since the revelation. “Have you confirmed it? I thought I detected a fluctuation through the gate, and it would help to explain a lot about their survival, but there’s no records of anyone so far from the Heavens having a Truth, maybe ever, how did you-”

Taurus does the aura equivalent of a flex, a brief wave of the lightest touch of his Qi enough to wash over the room and silence all the babbling. He’s smiling as he does it, though.

“I confirmed it while we were speaking,” he says. “Yun Ka, the data has been forwarded to your artifacts, you’re free to review as needed. How she acquired it is still a subject of curiosity, as is how it’s functioning so thoroughly with the amount of Qi the subject possesses, but it exists, and is likely responsible for a considerable amount of her ongoing changes. And ongoing survival, honestly.”

“Ok, ok, stop,” Raika says, shaking her head. “Don’t just talk past me. If you want me to think you’re not just treating me like cattle, explain. What do you mean? I know it’s a kind of enlightenment, but I haven’t gotten anything like that recently.”

He snorts, a gust of wind forming from it. “Unsurprising. It is not a well-explored topic amongst sect scholars, primarily due to the concerns associate with creating artificial ones. Earlier, I mentioned a little bit of what we do here. The Division of Altered Cultivation is responsible for discovering esoteric forms of cultivation, and things which sit outside traditional definitions, study them, and find out how they can best benefit the Empire and its citizens.”

Taran gives off a snort of his own at the description, but Taurus lets it slide, and no one else seems to take it seriously.

“To do this,” he continues, “we need to understand the powers inherent in our world. There’s Qi, background energy that permeates all things and can be shaped by most other powers, including one’s soul and living body. There’s Dao, infinitely rare and infinitely valuable, the very concept of any of the infinite things beneath heaven made manifest and comprehended. There’s Daemonic energies, which, as you know, only the highest ranks of the Imperial structures are allowed to interact with, and which so often leave ruin behind them. Definitions can become inherently fuzzy, but there is one semi-common aspect of power that is oft neglected and misunderstood.

“The one you have shown signs of is known as Truth, and it stands as an inverse to Dao.”

She blinks. “What does that mean?” she asks. “First of all, what’s… the inverse of Dao? The inverse of… what, the Will of Heaven? That seems a mess, nevermind that people get empowered by Dao all the time. Why else cultivate, if not to be stronger and better and more than what this world demands of us?”

The half-bull smiles. “Heaven’s Will is what we defy. Comprehending and mastering it is Dao. Destroying it is Daemonic. Denying it outright? Replacing it? That is Truth. Just like Heaven’s Will, it can be defied, broken, used against you, but fundamentally, it is the imposition of your own perspective onto all that is, far more directly than a technique.

“And somehow, with barely any Qi, no Dao, no record of higher Tribulations, no evidence of tampering by formations or runes or sigils, you’ve created a law of the world that you demand to be true. You know what it is.”

She breathes, a slight gasp on the exhale. “I Am Me, I Am Mine,” she whispers.

Somehow, this time, she can tell she isn’t the only one who feels the weight of the words. What always felt like the weight of revelation, of understanding, is less easily classifiable as such when she sees four cultivators leagues above her shudder as she speaks the words.

Taurus nods. “I wouldn’t go about saying it so freely,” he rumbles. “Yours doesn’t have much weight to it yet, but even having a Truth is enough to tempt even the wisest of fools to try to use you to find out how to get one of their own. In fact, I wouldn’t even act like you know what it is; if you need to talk about it, say Truth, not Truth, not unless I’ve given a signal that it’s ok to do so.”

“I’m… not sure I understand, but I can keep a secret,” she nods.

“Good. Keeping secrets is half the job,” he responds with a solemn nod, though Taran snorts in the background at the line.

“But… how is it different from Dao?” she asks.

“Oh, actually elementary!” pipes up Yun Ka. “Dao is a concept, Truth is a rule! Truth can affect Dao, and Dao can affect Truth, but one is understanding the pieces of something and how it reflects the whole, while the other is just saying something that is how things work, not what they are. Do you think your Truth maybe helped you heal? Does it function like a biological modification? Oh, to think I get to study a Truth, haha!”

“Down, pervert,” Taran chuckles darkly. “Gotta wait for Daddy Taurus over there to give permission before you have your tools in her goolies, yeah?”

Yun Ka blushes violently, turning and throwing a pen from one of the pouches on her at him. “Hush, Taran! So improper! You know that’s now how I meant it!”

“That’s how you always mean it when you get that look!” He protests with a cackle.

“And on that note,” Taurus rumbles, “I believe I’ll be showing Raika to her quarters now to let her get some rest. I’ll be back in a moment. Please, do your best not to aggravate the Palace too badly, hmm?”

Taran gives a lazy salute as Yun Ka stammers out a bow, but Raika’s eyes are on Kaena. They haven’t participated in the chaos much, preferring to remain lounging and aloof, but… the smell hasn’t faded. Even when Taurus let loose with his wave of Qi, even with the hints of that impossible thing that grows in his soul and its breath like a whirlwind, the smell of peaches, cream, and toxin never quite vanished.

Kaena gives a soft, gentle wave and a dip of the head as Raika is escorted, Taurus’ hand on her shoulder, out of the central chamber.

They walk in silence for a while. It’s all just fancy hallways and expensive ornaments, from end-tables carved out of elder and ebonwood, to ornate gilded veins all through the palace, to portraits and paintings decorating dozens of doorways and expansive, wide hallways. She keeps quiet just to process, and Taurus seems inclined to let her do just that, keeping the silence alongside her.

Eventually, she starts to add into her processing just how massive the space they’re in is. They’ve been almost five minutes down just two corridors, one ending in what looks like a lesser sibling to the massive open-concept room she appeared in, the other ending in what looks like an overly fancy lobby of some kind, several smaller hallways leading away from it.

“This is the hub,” Taurus rumbles, answering the question before she’s asked it. “Straight ahead are the baths, private and social. The door on the right over there is for an improvised storage space, which is currently full of things you are not allowed to touch until I’m sure you won’t blow yourself up. Left side has the hallway to the bedroom wing. I’ll show you to your room and leave you to it. Overstimulation after long periods of isolation is common.”

She pauses, the disconnect between her cell and the opulence of this place a bit too much, which… does sort of prove his point. She isn’t hyperventilating, per se, but she is starting to notice that her breaths are both deeper than she used to be able to draw air and a bit faster than normal. 

She means to say something like “just a moment” or “sure” or “understood, honored cultivator” or some combination of request for a pause to breathe and appeasement.

Instead, she asks; “Why did she have his eyes?”

She expected him to blink, maybe having forgotten the altercation or not understanding what she means. Instead, he sighs, and the sheer amount of breath he exhales is enough for some of the curtains and overly delicate ornamentation of the room to shift and rustle.

“You have had a very difficult journey,” he rumbles. “Not exactly ideal before your tribulation, and far worse than most ever dream of experiencing after it. I understand you have a lot of anger, and in a sense I am glad as it’s likely what allowed you to survive until now. If you were simply feral after all your trauma, or left entirely inhuman after your miraculous survival against that young master, this conversation would have gone very differently, and I’d have expected less from you as we rebuilt you.”

He leans down, towering over her, and even still his eyeline is almost above her head.

“But you are not feral, even if you are more than a bit mad. So I will say this one time. The three individuals in that room are off limits to you. If you attempt to enact harm upon them, or worse, I will rescind my mercy and enact your end most absolute. It will not matter how much you manage to grow or twist yourself or endure. You will simply cease to be, with absolute prejudice. Every one of those people is under my protection, and if I find out you’ve tried to use, abuse, or hurt any of them, I will not negotiate, or imprison you, or give you enough grace that you might be forgiven. I will find you, wherever you are, and then you will not be there. Or anywhere.

“Am I clear?”

Raika… nods.

“Good,” he rumbles. “Yun Ka is one of a large number of direct descendants of the Imperial Magister, Honored Beneath the Heavens, Feng Gui of the Feng clan.”

She flinches at his name, at his title, and a moment later at the fact that he has family. He’d mentioned a nephew, and there are plenty of stories of old cultivators who have spread their loins across half the Empire, but it had never clicked before that he had family, people she could ask, people she could find, people she-

Ah. So that’s why he gave the “bad things will happen” speech.

She wouldn’t have hurt her. 

Not too badly.

She finds that her face doesn’t move right, the thoughts behind it muddled.

She was in pain. And then she was alone. For a long time.

Yun Ka probably wouldn’t have been that useful as a hostage anyways. There’s no telling if she even knows her ancestor, necessarily, and nothing to say that she for sure is someone he’d even give a shit about. Even if both were guaranteed, hostage taking feels a bit… well, like a dynamic mix of stupid and foolish to Raika. 

Never mind how her stomach rumbles.

Never mind the deep discomfort the idea brings up.

Neither leave her, despite how uncomfortably they sit in her mind.

The blood of Feng Gui is right in the other room.

Yun Ka didn’t cripple Raika. Probably didn’t even know it happened at the time, and may not know how it happened now. She’s no guarantee against Feng Hui, that much is obvious even beyond the fact that Raika isn’t in the habit of pursuing her enemies with subtlety and threats.

But the thought doesn’t leave, because the blood of Feng Gui is so close.

She breathes out.

“Thank you for telling me,” she eventually says, bowing lightly. “I appreciate the honesty of the honored cultivator Taurus, and hope to repay that honesty with the assurance that this one will heed his words.”

He doesn’t move for a little while. Then… he nods. 

“Good,” he rumbles. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Yun Ka has spoken to much of her family in over a decade, and holds to her rank in the Imperial machine far more than her bloodline. I understand, however, if you’d rather limit your interactions with her.”

Raika grins at that, more teeth than mirth. “That won’t be an issue,” she assures the demi-titan. “Best way to get over a problem is to confront it. If I can’t even look into eyes like his, how am I going to pluck them from his head someday?”

Taurus blinks, then breaks into that sound of rock-breaking that she thinks is laughter from him. “Try not to say such things to your direct Imperial supervisor, perhaps. Still, I’m glad you’re coming at this from what may be considered a good route. Come. Your room is ahead.”

“Room” is dishonest. It needs something more… plural.

Her rooms are opulent, gorgeous, full of silks and colors and fancy clothes and beautiful makeup and mirrors and windows and gently blowing curtains and paintings. They also have a bed, which is way more important, and definitely her favorite part.

She’s asleep in moments, and though her sleep is haunted by occasional flashes of green, they’re overwhelmed by the smell of the breeze from the open balcony and the memory of figs wrapped in bacon. For the first time in a month, Raika dreams of things other than pain.

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Taurus looks up from the desk he’s been writing at as he senses Taran approaching.

The door swings open perfectly soundlessly as he lays down the comically small quill he’s grown used to writing with, and he turns from where he was kneeling to face the smaller figure.

“Sure you know what you’re doing with this one, boss?” Taran asks, their gait stiff and faintly unnatural as they walk, slowly, to let themselves fall against a couch in the expansive quarters.

“Worried about me?” Taurus rumbles, just a hint of mirth to his tone.

“Always, idiot,” grumbles the pale vestige. “You’re a bleeding heart and a sharp fucker, and pretty soon somebody’ll make it more fact than metaphor. Especially if you keep picking up the kinds of strays you prefer.”

“If I didn’t seek out such interesting strays,” Taurus says, “you’d still be as miserable as when I found you, no?”

Taran waves a limp hand, huffing. “You should have left me,” he grumbles. “Lords know it would be a hell of a lot less trouble for both of us, and I could finally get a good dirt nap.”

Taurus flicks a little piece of charcoal at his subordinate’s forehead, though this time they move, hand flicking out to snatch it and toss it into their sharpened maw. “You know I’m right, boss,” he mumbles as he chews. “You’re pushing it. Coulda gone to pick up that Li Shu kid instead, considering how much this one seems tied to her. Wouldn’t be drawing as much heat. This Raika girl is trouble with just the broken cultivation she’s kicking the shit out of, now we find out she’s got a Truth and a capital-G grudge against some higher up and whatever is going on with her jaw. I’m already problem enough for three other Researchers, and Kaena’s practically a walking pipe bomb. Things kicking off, or no?”

Taurus doesn’t respond for a while. They’ve known each other long enough that the silence is more comfortable than painful, but there’s tension in it. The massive figure turns his head towards the window, every inch of its frame carved with intricate silencing and defensive runes and arrays, staring out at the dance of the moons. Lua, largest and most vibrant of her siblings, carries on her journey from one horizon to the other, always following and altering the trail of her cousin of the day, but rambunctious Rue spirals energetically in a circle around her big sister, making a dance of red stone against the greater ivory. Even the third sibling has joined the dance today, electing to leave her position as a star to flicker like a green flame behind and to the left of her sister, shining softly and adding a hint of jade to the night.

“Not yet,” Taurus eventually murmurs. “It is always a risk. I would rather gamble with more cards than fewer, I suppose. Whatever she is, however she has managed, she is… unexpected. That is, at this junction, useful.”

Taran tsks. 

He doesn’t agree with his friend.

But he does trust him. So he gets up, and leaves the Researcher of Subject Group Thirty-Seven of the Division of Altered Cultivation to meditate on the strange celestials, and how their light shapes the night beneath them.