[h3][center]Helena & Tatter[/center][/h3]

With every new face -or, for want of a face, presence- that entered the room, the already-thick tension filling the Scrying Sanctum simmered down even further.  More well-versed than most in the domain of etiquette, Helena prided herself on being able to get at least a passable idea from her fellow Guardians, however inhuman, on how they felt, and behind the usual motions of respect, reverence, or -in one case- indifference, she could see the same somewhat-worried confusion that nibbled at the back of her own mind.  Additional arrivals, including her 'brother' Jack, eventually confirmed for her the suspicion she'd had originally: that this was a comprehensive meeting of all significant personnel [i]remaining[/i].  No Supreme Lord aside from Volaris had shown his, her, or its face, nor given any indication of their presence whatsoever.  Helena felt with absolute sincerity that if her own eminent creator were present, even if not here already, she would have been able to tell.

But Helena knew nothing—no comforting feeling, no empirical evidence, no soul-borne bond.  Yseult Concasseur, the Legion Duster, was not in the Cathedral of the Moon.

Kneeling at the ghoul commander's side, Tatter hid her disquiet less well.  So long as the strands of Daywight Weave that composed her girlish shell were interlaced with any part of the ubiquitous carpets that wound through the guild hall, the Ubergeist could extend her consciousness through them.  This allowed her to conduct a rough search of vast swathes of the Cathedral, most acutely in the Thaumaturgium, but the results did not please her.  Everything seemed normal, given the heightened level of security, but nowhere could she detect any active trace of a Supreme Lord outside this very room.  Nor could she send a Message to Yseult, try as she might.  No doubt those others capable of emotion felt it also, threatening to erode their stalwart walls of absolute confidence in their almighty masters.  The question hung in the air: [i]What was going on?[/i]

This gnawing unease troubled some more than others.  Immediately after her arrival, the one Helena recognized as Elizabeth addressed Volaris without hesitation or, seemingly, tact.  Despite her preoccupation with discipline, however, the knife-fighter could not blame Elizabeth for her outburst.  To her knowledge she maintained a closer sort of relationship with her creator, the esteemed Butcher, than many of the Guardians could boast of.  Of course, many saw their makers as parental figures after a fashion, Tatter among them, but few received reciprocal feelings anywhere near as fullheartedly as the Damned Knight's 'daughter'.  To a degree this bothered Helena, though never half as much as it did Tatter, whose youthfulness seemed to extend to both 'body' and mind.

With a sigh, Tatter retracted her strands from the wall patch where she interfaced with the Weave.  “No use.  Nobody here but us Guardians,” she whispered.  Her eyes turned to Volaris, as did many of those present, who articulated a reply to Elizabeth's demands.  They grew wide as she listened to him alongside Helena, learning with bated breath the destined demise of their world.  The realization shook them both, though in different ways.

[i]Lady Yseult knew about the end, and didn't tell me?  Any of us?[/i]  Tatter's glowing eyes fell upon the floor.  [i]She was okay with us all just...ceasing to be...and didn't feel like spending her last few minutes with us?  ...I thought we were...like a family.[/i]  Her fingers tightened into fists.  [i]And now she's gone, and I'm still here.  It's not fair![/i]

Trying to compose herself, Helena raked her hair back across her head.  [i]How hard it must have been for them, to know the exact date of reality's end.  Even now, having survived, we came so close to oblivion...were I not made of sterner stuff, I might have collapsed.[/i]  She glanced at Tatter, observing the anguish written on her face.  Despite all the time the two had shared, she couldn't intuit what the being who so often took the role of 'little sister' was thinking.  Still, her own position, and the duty it held, meant that she couldn't stay silent.  Leaning over, the ghoul commander whispered to her comrade, “Steel yourself, Tatter.  Yseult would have wanted us to put on a strong face without her, and represent through our actions both our worth as creations and hers as creator.”

An orange glow reflecting off the weave of Tatter's body caught Helena's eye, and she looked over her shoulder to find that Jack, standing on her other side, had leaned in as well.  He gave a sagacious nod.  “Alas,” he murmured, suppressing his voice a bit less well than Helena had, “Though fate has dealt us a poor hand, we must chin up and look to tomorrow.  We don't know anything for sure yet.  It falls to us to go on, and to find our mistress once again.”

The idea that Yseult might still be alive somewhere seemed to strengthen Tatter, and she put aside the thoughts troubling her to straighten up and put on a neutral face.  After mimicking her, Helena affixed her eyes on Volaris, but inclined her head ever-so-slightly to the right to address Jack.  “I'll say something.”

Giving another nod, the pumpkin gentleman muttered in reply, “I had fancied you would.  Much obliged.”

First, though, Garlock spoke his bit, contributing little other than reinforcement of his reputation as a fatalist.  Lord Daryl's other creation, however, more than made up for his flippancy with a frantic fury as audible in her voice as it was visible in her burning eyes.  When her voice dropped to a nightmarish snarl, Jack jumped in fright, but Helena managed to do nothing more than deepen her frown.  Maybe her mind was working to insulate itself against harmful thoughts, but she hadn't really considered the possibility that the other Supreme Beings existed no more.  The very notion made her skin crawl.  How could something like that even be possible?  And if it was, on that question's heels followed one still more dire: [i]what had caused it to happen?[/i]

Once an opportunity presented itself, the ghoul commander stood to attention, her boot clapping against the floor, and spoke up to Volaris.  “My lord, it would be my honor to take a small party and scout out the surrounding area.  In addition, if you approve, Jack will work to establish perimeter defenses, including sentries, until a more permanent solution can be found.”