[hider=another day another bunch of characters to ruin]
[center][img]https://40.media.tumblr.com/4f0c243d80adb7364cfdd22110297d81/tumblr_o2t1ksU5vW1u5gf80o1_500.png[/img][/center]

Does the fool play his riddling role so well that even he is deceived?

Did the Void Wanderer listen, and realise that he was not silent?

Jvan didn't much care. The world was beyond reason. [i]Vowzra[/i] was beyond reason. The only one left to accept the nails of sin for the sake of others was her.

The unmistakable sound of meddling echoed into the listening-horns of Ovaedis, drowning out the whispers of Galbar's scant thousand Sculptors. It haunted the fractured spaces, split and reformed, the noise itself coming undone in transit, but Jvan no longer saw riddles when she gazed upon the Gap. Its ways were known. Its paths could be mapped. That sound could be triangulated.

With mechanical ears Jvan traced back the echoes, as she had once traced the universe for the echoes of Arcon. For the first time, she could pinpoint the drone of Perfectus where it had been crudely stowed, listening for the undisguised sound of motion. The sound of breaching. Rising into a foreign sky, colliding with its own reflection, and disappearing, for the second time in its troubled history, into a pool of bent space.

As yet, nothing.

Then they tore their way into the world like a rain of caltrops.

Billions of particles of interdimensional flotsam forced into the world that had not been theirs for aeons. The artefacts punctured Galbar's skin and flimsily plugged the wounds they had created, a thin barrier to hold back the blood of the Other. Too thin. Fragile.

A precarious mockery of the creation she had wrought from the far places.

No anger, no hate in Jvan. Only a splay of lines and colours deep inside her whirring core. She had tasted of the cup of hate and drunk it dry. Now there was only regret, and swelling responsibility. The time for recovery was ending, and the time for action was coming. And Jvan was coming for Time itself.

Soon.

Divine sound pulsed over Galbar, and Jvan recognised the scream of birth. This one, it seemed, had come with particular violence. Predictable enough. The Other did not withhold its beauty for the likes of realspace, and the new demigod had been forced to adapt fast.

Would they emerge to be as blessedly peculiar as the rest, as Lifprasil and Amartia? Of course they would. Even the unsafe artwork is art nonetheless.

But the Other was unsafe indeed, and the Riddler was reckless. Time would tell if this erratic scrawl of creation was worth what it destroyed.

Except, of course, He wouldn't. Vowzra would sit in silence, watching the results of his interference, never making any coherent sense of his own actions. No one answered his riddles. No one could. They had no solution. They were dead ends. Like he was.

Like Perfectus had come to, and where it should have stayed until a worthier hand had drawn it out.

From the great portal of Ovaedis streaked a thin wisp of carmine fog, which did not dissipate in Galbar's atmosphere. Instead it nestled in the Caliginous Mangrove, mingling, for a little moment, in with the cloud forest's own veil.

It told Heartworm all it needed to know.

Old Skinstitch was lost to Jvan, she knew. It hid itself well, and their divine link was, until the Engineer found cause enough to repair it, cut. Ultimately, their isolation mattered little. The bonds went deep. Neither needed to hear the other to know what each would say. Neither needed to speak. They were, after all, one and the same.

[color=9e0b0f][i]The Riddler is hiding something beyond the Error. He has carved himself a den in which he lurks with his prize. There is a path between them. A frail barrier through which the Other may yet escape.[/i][/color]

[color=f6989d][i]Open two ways. Whirlpool atop the Mount.[/i][/color]

[color=9e0b0f][i]To leave such a flaw to rust and crack only weakens it. I will not let the Riddler creep in the dark places forever. It must be sealed, or still more harm may be done.[/i][/color]

[color=f6989d][i]Reckless.[/i][/color]

[color=9e0b0f][i]I must take responsibility for the protection of my family. None other will.[/i][/color]

[color=f6989d][i]Retaliation will come. Stand to lose all that has been created.[/i][/color]

[color=9e0b0f][i]I will not leave my work undefended. They must have a guardian.[/i][/color]

[color=f6989d][i]You force my hand.[/i][/color]

It was true. Heartworm, fragile as it was, would come if Lex was threatened. It would come late, and prioritise its own safety, but it would come nonetheless. The All-Beauty knew itself well enough. Knew its own unreliability. Heartworm was a weak contingency to depend on. In the future, better defences would be required for Jvan's expanding portfolio of samples and sculptures.

Shelter. Mobility. Armament.

Yes, a bulwark would be built with which to protect the Engineer's delicate mortal projects. An Ark.

[center]* * * * *[/center]

[/hider]