hellonspectacles | Once more into the breach, dear friends

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Once more into the breach, dear friends

It is nighttime, or what passes for nighttime in space, and the ship Mount Ida is quiet.

It isn’t a particularly large vessel. There are berths for a dozen crew members and private rooms for the ship’s two officers, a mess hall, a med bay, an armory, a brig. Nothing about it is particularly luxurious—Blood of Eden doesn’t go in for luxury, and the members of Troia Cell are no different—but everything is functional and well maintained. The ship hums faintly with the sound of engines and life support and electric lights, a but most of the crew don’t notice it anymore.

Near the officer’s cabins is another berth, occupied (or so it seems) by a single person. It contains a bed, and a sink, and a table on which, strangely, sits the perfectly formed skeleton of a human hand. The door is locked from the outside and a crew member stands guard. Are these precautions to keep the person inside from escaping, or to protect them from coming to harm? No one is sure anymore.

The crew member, Sergeant Hot Coals of Vengeance, is bored. Their shift is almost over, they need a piss, and they’re not even sure what the point of this assignment is anyway. Sure, the room’s occupant might be a zombie lover, and she might be a little weird. And sure, she did dislocate Lieutenant Pash’s arm when they tried to take that gross little bag of bones from her, but that was months ago. These days, she’s polite, and she spends long hours in secret meetings with the Commander, and she always asks for an escort when she needs to leave the room.

Coals really needs to piss. They peek through the little window in the door.

Inside, Camilla Hect is curled up on a narrow bed, breathing steadily. She’s asleep, and anyway, the door is locked. What’s the worst that could happen if they stepped away for a few minutes?

Coals leaves their post, and Camilla sleeps on—or so it seems.

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There's indeed no reaction except for a flat stare. Natsuno frowns a little as Pal proceeds to explain... well, very little, but he's able to connect some dots.

The thanergenic explosion is what Pal used against the murderer back at Canaan House. Which means this point in time is beyond what Pal remembered back on the Eterna. He glances at the skeletal hand, half expecting it to start moving.

"...right. A hand can write, but you need eyes and ears to make it mean anything." He looks back at Camilla's body. She's the one who suggested he talk to Pal, so she must know what's happening, and yet...

"So you take turns? Did she choose to step back so we can speak?"

"Well, if they do decide to shoot, it's going to be hard to hide them considering I will heal on my own within moments."

She can feel the powers she had been lacking slowing drawing back, like the energy is just waiting for her to reclaim it. But she's not sure she should.

"While I have the utmost faith in your abilities I'd rather take something known than unknown." she reaches out across the ship, feeling and learning about each soul on board as she speaks. "Besides, I am nothing if not adaptable."

Her gaze drops to regard the body Palamedes is possessing.

"Is this what was supposed to happen when you died?"

Somehow she's not sure his plan for immortality worked the way he meant it to.

:All right. I'll show you.:

Suddenly there's a world again. Light, air, gravity, a body with which to feel it all. Not a world he knows. Not only are the surroundings primarily made of wood and textiles with towering redwoods in the background, but the feel is strange. Oddly patchwork. Some things are impossibly crisp, others are floaty and indistinct. This is a memory, and as Need's memory isn't eidetic and the flow of time has eroded things, it's been remade and reinforced, subtly changed countless times, by frequent revisits. Not a body he knows, either. It's big and heavy, and it aches, and he's not in control of it.

:This is who I was,: she says, and there's the memory of the woman Need had been, the sense of an old warrior turned mage-smith, lay sister of a remote religious enclave, beneficiary of a fulfilling work, a peace, a community, and a slow, gentle fading towards natural death that she had never deserved. The old woman's thoughts and feelings have a different texture from the sound of the voice she projects.

She was human. She's not, now. Death and time have made her strange in a way not entirely unlike the way Cytherea was strange, when she wasn't pretending.

"Cam, oh man I'm glad you're here. Alright, let's go." Wayne is good about following instructions at least, knowing that it's important that he does so so that none of them end up caught and imprisoned.

He sticks close, trying to keep to the blind spots that she picks her way between, voice low and keeping an eye out for anyone else, familiar or otherwise.

"So what's happening? Why're you guys locked up here? Or is that a story for later?"

There are places where Ari might let down her guard, but this isn't one of them. She won't underestimate spacer military, and Palamedes was clearly their captive. Still, most of her attention is given over to listening to him. As promised, she lets him say his piece, no matter how strange it sounds.

'Alright, security first. For proof. On the prison ship you and I once attended an Earther wedding. John Watson was the groom. Who was the bride - and what did you show me that night?'

Yes, it's something of a trick question, but not an unfair one, not to the real Palamedes Sextus, who would be sure to remember the way it actually happened.

'And could you let me speak to... Cam? How do I properly address her? Let me speak to her to confirm all this is done with consent.' That's one reason. The other is to see how distinct the voice of "Cam" is, whether it supports his story.

'My other question, I guess, is why? Where's your actual body? Why are you doing all this?'

“Cam is always in charge. She wouldn’t have it any other way.” Deep inside his guilty heart, Palamedes Sextus knows this isn’t entirely true. Camilla would give up her body and soul for him with barely a pause. As it is, he knows that every moment he spends in her body is another moment that he is chipping away at her very being.

But for now, she is in charge. Pal insists upon it. And it terrifies him, knowing that.

“So yes, essentially. As part of the agreement, my time is always limited. We leave notes.” Again, a gesture to the desk. “It isn’t a perfect system, but it works.”

“Another good reason to convince them not to,” Pal says with a wry smile that is fully devoid of humor.

He knows Valdis well enough to understand she’s doing something to gather more information, though what, exactly, he isn’t sure. Pal had never fully understood the bounds of his roommate’s powers. The reverse, he supposes, is probably true.

Along with the crew, all human and relatively unremarkable, Valdis is likely to encounter a few anomalies in her search for souls. There’s a necromancer in the sickbay, a seriously injured woman stubbornly clinging to life. And then there are two people, both currently asleep, both possessing bodies that do not belong to them.

Pal looks at Valdis with a flat expression. “My current state was not meant to be the modus operandi, no.”

Palamedes quirks a smile. He has spent a lot of time lately responding to the name Camilla Hect, but still it’s strange to hear Wayne do it. “Not quite,” he says, “Though I am sure she would appreciate the sentiment.”

He takes a breath. This bit is weird, even by necromancy standards. Even by Serena Eterna standards. Even, he suspects, by Waynehouse standards.

“It’s Pal.” He holds up a hand, wiggles his fingers in an awkward hello. “Camilla and I, we’re sort of…corporeal roommates at the moment. Bit of a patch job, but it’s the best we could do, and necessary under the circumstances. No one out there,” he nods towards the door, “is aware that I’m here, or even that I’m alive.”

He knits his brows together in sympathy. There are so many things he never really told Wayne, who, in the course of their friendship, so often trusted him without requiring explanation or context. But now, he has dragged Wayne into some very dark waters, and there are things he deserves to know.

“You remember Canaan House, of course. The trials? After your time there, things sort of went to shit. I,” a pause, “died. Camilla was picked up off the planet by these people. They’re not fans of the Houses, to put it mildly.”

Palamedes grins. It’s probably one of the more genuine smiles that he—or Camilla—has worn in a long time. “Not to play pedant in a time of crisis, Tayray, but I do have to wonder what Johnny and César would think of being called brides.” He taps his finger on his chin as though he were trying to remember the rest. “I believe I grew you a skull. Not quite the finesse of the dancing skeletons I made for Fio, but I was rather intoxicated at the time.”

His good memories of the Serena Eterna are few, but the conversation with Ari had been one of them. Something had been forged between them that, in part, was the reason he had brought her here.

“Oh, certainly, you can speak to her. Call her Camilla; Camilla the Sixth, if you like. ‘Warden’s Hand’ is her title, though she isn’t one for standing on ceremony without good reason.” He tips his head to the side. “Why don’t I let her explain? You might find it interesting to hear it from her perspective.”

Again, the images tumble into Palamedes consciousness strangely, without the need for words or other conduits of information. She wants him to see what she sees, and know what he knows, and so he does. It's a strange kind of knowing--puzzling, incomplete. But it gives him context for her power. She isn't hurting Camilla. She doesn't need to.

Is it possible to relax when one exists in this precarious space between conscious and unconscious? If it is, then Palamedes does. Just a little.

But he still has questions.

:That does not explain what you are doing here.:

Unaware of Pal's guilt or the true bond between a necromancer and their cavalier, Natsuno merely nods.

He has so many questions: how did Pal do it, where are the rest of their friends, what the hell is going on... but that will have to wait.

"I won't waste the time you have, then. What do I need to know about our situation here?"

What a relief it is to speak to someone face-to-face who knows him, and to have that person be cool, unflappable Natsuno Yuuki. The bond between the two of them has always been built on action more than emotion; they trust one another because of what they have seen of each other, not because of the secrets in their hearts. And frankly, given that there is a whole world of emotion that Pal would prefer not to think about, he’s relieved, too, by the characteristic way that Natsuno cuts to the point.

“Right.” Palamedes sits on the bed, still but vibrating with energy. “After everything went sideways at Canaan House,” Natsuno might not know all the details, but Pal thinks he knows enough that he can cleanly skip over those messy bits, “she and two other survivors were picked up by a group called Blood of Eden. Anti-Empire terrorists. They aren’t fans of necromancy, to put it mildly.” His eyes darken for a moment; whatever truce they have struck, he won’t forget what these people did to Camilla before he returned to her. “Eventually, I found my way to them. How is…complicated. But the important bit is that no one else knows about me.”

“Within the last couple of months, we have begun to enter negotiations with the cell in charge of this ship. BoE’s view of necromancers may be superstitious and sordid, but,” a careful pause, “that doesn’t mean they are wrong about everything.”

Wayne blinks, but it takes very little for him to accept the idea that he's looking at both Camilla and Pal in the same moment. His attitude is so starkly different from hers after all, and the confirmation that he's found Pal to begin with means they're on the right track.

"Yeah," he replies with a small nod as he listens. He remembers Canaan House, the trials and the monsters they'd come up against. It blurs together a little bit in his memory, but it still stands out as the way that he'd met the two of them, learning to rely on those memories of them and building trust in Pal himself. The fact that the man trusts him enough in turn to want him here to help him out of whatever this mess is means a lot to him. He could say as much later, when they weren't in immediate danger.

And then they could actually talk about things. Wayne takes a lot on faith when it comes to trusting his friend. He would have to continue to do so a little bit longer, it seems. To that end, he reaches to take one of his hands, giving it what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. But he still has to ask...

"What's your plan for getting out of here? My ship didn't come with me and the last time I tried to pilot something like this I crash-landed it."

So Palamedes found a way to bring his soul back from wheverver the hell it went after that explosion, realized there wasn't enough room in what was left of his body and decided to possess Camilla instead. Yeah, that's exactly the kind of insane stunt his friend would pull.

"So after Canaan House, you decided to rebel against the Empire," he observes. Natsuno couldn't care less about space politics, but it's important to figure out where he stands in this strange new universe. "And these Blood of Eden guys think it's just Camilla. How are you gonna explain me? I'm not a necromancer, but I'm not exactly normal."

The humans are uninteresting, but she focuses briefly on the injured necromancer, then moves her senses to the two unconscious souls sleeping inside mismatched bodies. She frowns at the sensation, then directs her focus away and back to her friend.

"You aren't the only one like this." She says softly. Pal is slightly different though because he has another soul with him and they are switching back and forth. "These people, they must distrust you if they keep you locked up, are the others also restrained, or are they just asleep."

Her focus is only half on him, back to exploring the humans more closely. Unremarkable, yes, but they must be important somehow if Palamedes is working with them.

“I’m not planning on getting out of here.” Palamedes waves his hands before Wayne can object or ask any further questions. “I know it sounds absolutely mad, but I can’t just abandon—there are matters I need to see to. Both as a scion to my House, and as a friend to people who need me. We’ve reached an agreement with the people on this ship, tenuous though it is. We’re not in danger—not from them, at least.”

He looks at Wayne with brown eyes that have never been his, gaze gentle and apologetic. “If you would prefer to run, I can find you a shuttle. This universe may be foreign to you, but you’re resourceful. You could make a life. Or I can keep you hidden here, and help you find a way back to Waynehouse, or even the Serena Eterna.”

“Or you can stay and serve as our bodyguard during some truly unprecedented political negotiations.”

“No.”

Leave it to Natsuno to get straight to the point. In the broad sense, Pal knows rebellion is a reasonable word for what he’s doing. But Palamedes Sextus is Sixth to the tips of Camilla’s distal phalanges, and in this, above all things, he insists on precision.

The trouble is, it isn’t a very precise situation.

“Well, yes. Sort of. But it’s legal. The Sixth has something called a break clause written into its administrative documents. For millennia it’s been considered an antiquated footnote; I need to check, but I’m pretty sure the last paper that even cited it was published twelve hundred years ago. But these people,” he jabs his finger towards the door, “know about it. Isn’t that remarkable?”

Pal thinks he can feel Natusno waiting for him to get to the point, or maybe it’s that he can perfectly imagine Cam standing beside, lifting a pointed eyebrow when he’s gone on too long. “I think we can pass you off as a non-adept if we’re careful. In two days we’re landing on a planet that’s BoE territory. We can say you’re a stowaway.”

“And then I convince them to take us to the Sixth.”

Palamedes lifts an eyebrow, impressed. “I should have assumed you might figure that out. One of them is under surveillance. She has some sort of leverage I don’t entirely understand. It’s political. Ancient and political.”

Then he hesitates. The other person is still a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and Pal is awfully afraid of what Blood of Eden might do if they ever manage to solve the mystery. “The other one is barely conscious. I mean that literally—they barely possess consciousness." His gaze goes a bit distance. “But they're important, Valdis. They may be the most important person in the universe.”

Then he blinks and brings himself back to the present. “You can ask me questions, you know. Instead of poking around.”

Absolutely mad is definitely one way to put it...

Wayne's brow gently furrows, nearly imperceptible across the smooth yellow of his skin, but he does gesture for Pal to lead the way. "I don't make a habit of running away from stuff anyway even if it's going to kill me, so...let's go? Bodyguard gig sounds interesting at least." He twists a little in place, staring into the air as one hand gropes, and suddenly it's around the hand of the axe that he'd taken into the trial with him when they'd met. Nice to know that he was still armed, one way or another.

Palamedes sags with relief. He almost laughs. “Oh, thank goodness. Bless you, Wayne. Once this work is complete, I swear to you, on the life of Camilla Hect, and my mother, and the entire contents of the Library, that I will find a way to send you anywhere in the multiverse that you desire. I will dedicate my life to it.”

All of this he says in a rush, but he means every word.

“Right. We’ll need to keep you hidden for at least a day. You won’t see much of me during that time because we have to limit how long I can be in control of Camilla’s body. She’ll look after you, though. She won’t remember you from Canaan House, but she liked you then, and she’ll like you now. She’d look after you even if she didn’t like you.”

“But with you by our side, I think—I think we might get what we want.” He takes a breath. “Or, at the very least, we won’t immediately be killed for suggesting it.”

"Remarkable, right," Natsuno says. The empty look in his eyes is the only hint he wishes Pal would get to the point and have the legal arguments to the other Houses who might care about it.

This is not how he wanted his escape from the Serena Eterna to go. He doesn't want to be at the mercy of some unknown group, doesn't want to get involved in their magical space conflict. He doesn't want to go to the Sixth either - to stay on yet another ship.

But this is the situation, and Natsuno will deal with it like always. First, pass the next two days without getting murdered.

"Alright. So I'm a totally ordinary kid. I've been through some shit and that's why I'm alone and refuse to give anything beyond my name. I don't know Camilla Hect and I'll cooporate so the armed terrorists don't have a reason to shoot me."

Pal is so damned heartfelt about it that he can't bring himself to question what the man promises. It's going to be a new world entirely, he'll be the only one of his kind, but he can't really see how that's a bad thing. One day maybe this universe would be populated by more Waynes, if he found a place to one day go to ground. He would just have to trust in his friend's plan.

A cool, gloved hand lights on Pal's (Cam's) cheek, and pats lightly in a casually affectionate gesture, before Wayne moves away and leans to peek out and double check that nobody is on the approach.

"Kinda wish I'd managed to master invisibility before now," he muses, hand on his hip. "Best I was able to do was turning into a small animal after miss Ylva gave me the idea. I could probably hide like that, if pressed, I just wouldn't be much good in a fight."

The old scene stays, playing out, an aged woman packing her short crescent-marked swords up to be taken to market. A weight of retroactive grief is on the memory, of the last time she saw her home and so many of her loved ones alive.

:Good question. I appeared in a cell with your soul-sib there,: Need muses. Here's something about the mind to mind communication that Need uses: a stream of emotion, sensation, thought, imagery comes with each word. More information than is conveyed with a voice and a face even if it's mostly too fast to make much sense of. She's not inclined to outright lie and if she tried no one paying the slightest attention would fall for it, and it's not actually difficult to determine how she feels. Which is not that much, considering. She doesn't like whatever Palamedes is but is keeping in mind that he's not what his closest equivalent in Velgarth would be. :I know a spell for projecting myself into other realities. Usually if I use it it's because I'm called, but she didn't call me.:

She spends quite a lot of time and effort answering calls for help. Need's soul is warped. Mangled, flattened, parts of it missing, altogether in an unnatural configuration. Like knowing plants and how their roots spread, and finding one that's been in a pot for so long that those roots have formed a solid mass completely filling the container. Need is a sword. A tool, a weapon, a symbol and something to hold against danger.

:Why are you here, boy? What can be so important that you've both committed to such a terrible idea?:

Oh, that gets a smile out of her. 'You pass,' she says, as if it's settled, as if there couldn't be any doubt. 'I'm glad that I wasn't sober when you grew a skull for me, at any rate. There would have been more... alarm.' It takes her time to adjust to the improbable, but at least she recognises that tendency in herself, make light of her own difficulty.

Still. They have more urgent matters to focus on. This isn't time for fond reminiscence over - what can she call it, when they were in prison together? It sounds all wrong, and yet that's the truth of it.

'Yes, do let me speak to her.'

Tayrey waits what she believes to be a respectable amount of time, and then a moment longer, for good measure. 'Camilla the Sixth? Peace and prosperity to you. This is all... very new to me. Did you hear the conversation I had with Palamedes?' So she won't waste time telling Cam things she already knows - or won't omit key information, depending.

"I'm also ancient and political," Valdis muses, pulling all her senses back to herself and Palamedes.

She thinks about what he is saying, about the person who is lying unconscious below them.

"Important? Have you tried examining the soul that still lingers?"

She hasn't done it in so long that she's almost afraid to offer. Walking in someone's soul is dangerous. For her and potentially for them. Perhaps changing the subject might help her focus a bit. Trying to rattle him was always so fun before.

"You look very attractive now by the way."

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Once more into the breach, dear friends

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Heading deeper into spoiler territory! lmk if I should keep things vague

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I don't mind spoilers, I will catch up as fast as I can