/-__+ Talcinor Debrine Jr. +__-\

He felt... angry.

Angry, and guilty.

The light itself in the undercity seemed dimmer since the battle, and since the survivors had been found. There was less excited chatter from the streets and the markets. Fewer trips back to the surface to bring stuff down, sure, but also fewer people wearing smiles. They looked even worse when they were approaching or exiting the tent hospital that had taken over a large section of the city. Its grey canvas sides were oddly motionless most of the time, without a breeze to move them. It made for an eerily still, low structure filled with groans and small tragedies.

Everyone agreed it could have been much worse. They'd all seen or heard about the melted mine. A vast melted cone, smooth and bubbled like a funnel with the remnants of a viscous liquid had been dropped down into the ground next to their capital city. The fires it caused in their city above had burned unchecked and further ruined the buildings and their history. It still wasn't Tal's city - but he hated it. What Belar had done, and what he had enabled them to do. Once he'd witnessed the destruction with his own eyes, Tal couldn't tune out everyone's words as overblown.

The cone of destruction - and the off-kilter line of burned ground that led out and away from the main impact site - were more than enough evidence that no one should have lived through the blast. They shouldn't have had a chance.

So he knew, in a deep and unquestionable way, that the alien had saved his people from the orbital barrage. He knew that annoyingly inquisitive and positive little tinkerer had been capable of running away on his own, if he'd really wanted to. Lycra had put himself in danger - real, impossible ranger - to help Tal's people. And against all odds, he'd managed to keep most of them alive. His efforts, along with those of others, had managed to let so many come through the ordeal with their lives intact.

Meanwhile, Tal had been planning against him. Readying other like-minded Vuxarinans to turn on that small alien and end him.

He still struggled to rectify the idea of Lycra as an alien and a decent person, but he had been getting better over the past few days. When Tal brought bread to the medical tents, he stopped and talked to Lycra. He was still covered in atrocious burns, but spoke in soft, ragged sentences. And of course, once he'd learned more about Lycra and his life, Tal sympathized with him. Believed him.

That was how he came to the conclusion he needed to confess his guilt, and let King Hugo know of the Vuxarinans in their midst plotting against the small friend of the Undercity. He couldn't talk to anyone else - it had to be Hugo.

Hugo had been at arms length leading up to the battle for the mine. He spent almost all his time with Vidita, or cooped up 'testing' parts of his skill that he had used back against the golems.

Once the news came back about the weapon and destruction, and the survivors were brought back, Hugo had lived in a half-catatonic state. He never left Vidita's side now, and refused to let others into the private room where she was receiving care. Where she still wasn't waking up.

He knew Edith and the others disagreed with the King's desire for isolation, but they all adamantly followed his word and left Hugo alone and separated from the rest of his people.

Meanwhile, Tal's guilt festered and burned at his gut.

Slowly, a new goal formed. Hugo didn't seem like he would be accessible anytime soon. Tal couldn't come clean to Lycra. Not while he was recovering. Maybe not ever. Now that he was exposed, really exposed to his soft positivity and simple kindness, Tal didn't want that to go away. No, the best goal was to handle things himself. All he needed to do was convince the planners that their goals were wrong. He just needed them to see the same things he had, to change their minds.

That was why he walked far from the center of the city, to the outlying streets where few walked and fewer lived.

He wandered until he felt like he had reached familiar streets once again, where he usually waited until someone came to talk to him.

This time would be different.

#

A hooded figure emerged from a well-crafted but simple stone doorway nearly half an hour later.

"We have been waiting for you, Talcinor."

They waved one oversized sleeve on their dark, thick cloak. The eyes seemed eager. Tal felt an odd sense of relaxation try to assuage his anger and his guilt - like a tap attempting to douse a housefire.

"I came back to tell you that you that we were both wrong," Tal started. "The issue here isn't Lycra, it's the other aliens. I know the stories sound exaggerated, but I saw the impact site, and I know he could have run. Because he didn't, Lycra saved lives. Our people's lives. And if you don't agree with me now, you will once you get to know him. He's a good person. We were wrong about him. And that means this should stop."

The shaded nose under the dark hood twitched.

"Lycra... is alive?"

The confusion caused Tal to physically take a step back. This group, so far as he knew, was entirely dedicated to removing Lycra as an influence from King Hugo. So how did they not know of his condition? Anyone around the medical tents would've heard the stories they told there. Anyone could have seen his condition.

Unless they were hiding themselves away from something. Or someone.

Tal took another step back.

Hugo had figured out someone was a traitor, once, by reading the currents of his soul. Which meant he could identify some level of intent just by seeing a person. And, his contacts here were always in this place, on the outskirts of the Undercity, where almost no one went - including the King. They were avoiding him. Avoiding Hugo. And avoiding the whole Undercity to stay out of his eye. But if the intent was just towards Lycra, they should be fine. Tal was fine being in the same room as Hugo, even when he was plotting against the alien. His King had taken it as more animosity.

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No, the only reason someone should avoid the King altogether is if they had other goals.

"Tell me, Talcinor. Whom else lives?"

Tal swallowed.

"Go to the tents and see for yourself."

Silence stretched between them, broken by footfalls echoing behind Tal. He turned to see another heavy-robed individual whose face was in shadow. They looked almost identical to the one he spoke with. Another set of feet on stone signaled the third near-identical figure's arrival. The one he'd been speaking with frowned a bit too wide.

"You reveal yourself too early. We could get more."

The second arrival tapped a foot on the ground. "Incorrect. Smooth is over. He no longer harbors the hatred."

The third gave a nod. "He has grown weary of us. Firm. Gentle sway will no longer be effective."

Each spoke with an identical voice. Only their cadences and enunciation varied. Tal's heart thrummed in his chest.

"Talcinor - you have lost your way. But such is fine. We can assist you in that."

"True, true. We bring good news, Talcinor. Your tragedy, your sorrow was not all you believed it to be. There is hope, you see."

His blood ran cold.

"When you fled, you left them behind, Talcinor. You left your parents, and they perished. You abandoned your brothers, but one was lucky. Gifted."

"A holder of a useful skill."

"Useful indeed."

"A healer."

Shivers ran down Tal's spine as silver needles started to form near his shaking hands. These people were enemies. True enemies.

"Ah, now is not the time for violence, Talcinor."

"You should be happy. Corinvar lives."

"We have Corinvar. Now is the time for compliance."

Tal backed himself away from the hooded figures. "You're wrong. You're lying."

They responded in unison.

"Tallybean."

His stomach knotted and bile rose in Tal's throat.

Only his eldest brothers, Delmiran and Corinvar, used that name. He had outgrown his other brothers by the time the awakening hit, and each had dropped it once he beat them in a wrestle. They had Corinvar. It couldn't have come from anyone else.

The closest figure grinned wide, their exposed needle teeth glinting off the dim light.

"Good. Understand. And Comply."

+ Reid +

Bubbles pressed her face against against the airplane window and watched Dayo fade into the distance. Even after it was long gone, she held herself to the side of the wide seat on the private jet with her four eyes trained outside.

"You doing okay, Kiddo? We can still turn around and go back."

Her antennae bobbed as she nodded in response. Reid still hadn't gotten her to speak out loud, but she had started to get more comfortable with nonverbal physical answers instead of nonverbal telepathic ones. Any thoughts he had about leaving her to stay on the island had gone out the window after he brought it up. It was shortly post-spider-slaughter when he first asked her if she wanted to stay, and offered to take her to one of the people he'd met along the way. Though he was still covered in bits of arachnid from clearing the area around the runway, she'd snatched up and held onto his arm like he was going to fly away.

He couldn't help himself from asking again, and checking up on her. He'd done it several times in the last few hours and figured he would be doing it several more before they made it to their first destination.

"Reid."

"Hey, Nyx. What do you think? Is this right? Are we doing the right thing, bringing her along?"

"I think you need to stop second guessing yourself, and stop being so overbearing in checking up on the girl. Asking if she's okay for the twelfth time isn't going to make everything better. And you were never this... much... with Sara when she had things to work through. Let Bubbles stare out the window a little. You need something to distract yourself from worrying about her."

Reid scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, then give me something to do. Or give me an idea. You've been pretty quiet about internal development stuff for a while - and I mean, like, a long while - and otherwise you've just told me not to pursue certain stuff. So I'm not really sure what it is I'm supposed to be going after there. What do I do?"

"First - no complaining allowed. I'll help you through things when its the right time to do so, and I'm going to keep you from hurting yourself when it isn't. With that in mind, let's get you back into the swing of things. Dive into yourself, and wander. Touch on everything we've done, and I'll tell you when you're ready for the next step."

Reid turned his attention inwards, and moved his awareness through himself. He followed his blood through his own body, past muscle groups and skin he'd hardened and improved with each level up. He identified the nutrient and energy stores within himself that collected and distributed resources. He wandered into the threadspace in his mind that housed an imposing number of threads and strings and strands that made up how he interacted with skills and the system itself. That quasi-metaspace had two connections - one to his kitchen metaspace - for constitution - that enabled the efficient use of mental resources, and one to his library metaspace - for intelligence - that allowed him to have the targeted resistances set up with simple meta-mana apertures leading away from the threads.

He followed them over to the midpoint in the conduit between the two spaces, and then continued into the library-gamestore. Here, he had spent so much time cataloging and understanding information, and himself. He put a hand on the gamestore counter as he idly meandered through himself, aware of how he'd let his unlocking of messages from Sara slip a little over time. Being next to them made him want to unlock a new one, but he forced himself to wait, and continued his walk. The intelligence metaspace connected to perception's laboratory, which granted him the simple auto-mapped understanding of certain things he ran into. The laboratory metaspace itself allowed him to analyze the world and everything around him.

Perception's laboratory connected to Dexterity's Gym and Obstacle Course metaspace. That conduit was the one that let him work with conceptual movements and map fight flow by analyzing things. He'd last used it to inspect himself and the manifestation of his wings. It would be useful for predicting how Bubbles might actually do if they got into a scrape where she had to act. He tucked the idea away for later. Dexterity itself was a metaspace made for looking at and working on his metaphysical musculature, and allowed him to more deftly control the power and mana he could use to empower himself.

Dexterity's Gym connected to Power's Sea of Rage, and the conduit between them granted him improved bodily enhancement. The sea of rage was his first metaspace, and still sported the snack shack, along with Sara's toys laid out in the sand. It was the way he built up his mana reserves and mana pool, and was improved when Reid manifested memories in the space to make sand. He blinked away the start of more memories and kept walking.

Power's sea of rage was connected to Constitution's kitchen metaspace, which still looked like a mix between multiple kitchens and eateries. The conduit between those two spaces allowed him to do resource bundling, which was just as important to him as the mental resource conduit between the kitchen metaspace and the threadspace. In the kitchen, he could still cook and eat and experiment and refuel himself directly, though it had been a while since he'd done so.

He looked back at the conduit to the threadspace, where he'd entered. The six metaspaces and the conduits connecting them created a symmetrical hexagon in his metaphysical self. When he'd connected all of them, and after - he experienced a sublime feeling, and had been able to access a higher level of strength and power in fights that made him glow. It was also supposedly a dangerous thing to do, considering the achievement he'd gotten for fighting empowered without killing himself in the process.

When Nyx didn't pop in next to him, Reid moved himself away form the hexagonal setup and sought out his boringly-named mana compressor. Mana turbocharger was still a better name. The meta-mana construction within him was how he was able to effectively fuel and manifest his wings, and in general made it faster to activate his skills, by taking the mana and condensing it down until it was almost too unstable to wield. It had been one of the more difficult things to make, and when he first built it, even looking at the thing had given him a headache. It didn't hurt so much, now.

Nyx's voice came from behind him.

"You're ready. Let's do some weaving."

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