Balmas

Breathless Dead

"Do not--!"

Alexa bites the words in half, and forces a tight smile.

"Alexa. Alexa will do nicely. Please."

She bats a crab away, more to give her hands something to do than because it's a threat.

"I am awkward because..."

What even to say?

"Mistress, I have displayed extremely poor judgement before in choosing masters. I carried out the will of a tyrant, was his enforcer, his weapon, and did terrible things in his name."

There were no codes. She helped, sacrificed, hurt, so that she would not be sacrificed and hurt.

"And then I helped your mother, and she turned Tellus into a prison."

And again, she helped so that she would not be hurt.

"And here you are, bright, shiny, helpful, kind, caring."

Abandoned her own to pursue this. Pits herself against the might and wealth of empire in a suicidal bid for change.

"And I am waiting for the shoe to drop."

And helping isn't going to keep her from being hurt.

Breathless Dead

You can't freeze, she tells herself. Breathe normally. Keep those muscles loose. Don't twitch or stare. You're relaxed, calm. Voice steady, eyes loose. You have nothing to hide. Ignore that churning that says to tense every muscle, says to run, fawn, anything to avoid what you know is coming. Remember, if you freeze, give off the slightest hint of being nervous, it doesn't matter what you say, she'll know.

But... she already knows, doesn't she. Or at the very least, suspects. People don't ask pointed questions like that if they don't, in the back of their minds, already know the answer.

It was a nice run, wasn't it? Being able to pretend she was someone else for a change. Imagining she could escape who she was, what she was.

And the worst thing is, maybe Redana's not lying, even to herself! Maybe she really did just need someone to fly the ship for her, to help get the shuttle off the ground, to man the engines. Maybe she doesn't want or need a weapon--

But who could resist the Pallas Rex at your beck and call?

The letter burns in her pocket. This isn't right! Aphrodite himself presented her with the mandate to worship! She-- Isn't that important? Alexa might be able to do that, but the Pallas Rex cannot!

If she's going to lie, she has to do it now, and do it well. Invent some minor bureaucrat. Give them a position in Molech's court, something easy to remember, something she knows. War? No, impossible. Molech would never delegate that job to someone else. Finance? Royal architect, perhaps? Something that would let her into the inner circle of the court, let her be privy to the dirty dealings, give her motive to hate him--

In the end, it's making the mistake of looking at Redana that does her in--of meeting those wide, mismatched, caring eyes, and instantly freezing. Look away, damn you, and she's not sure which of them she's talking about. Be cruel. Be capricious. Give her a reason not to trust you!

She makes several unsuccessful attempts, breath hitching at each one, before managing to choke out, "If you ever find yourself falling from orbit... Find a way to avoid situations where you fall from orbit. I do not recommend the experience."

Fellowship: The Heart

The instant King Dragon turns away, Coleman's in action.

"Wolf! Stoke the boiler!"

"No, you can't cartwheel on top or you'll be flattened when we hit that wall!"

"Fine, Caranadir then! Doesn't matter! Grab Ailee, we're leaving!"

This crew is a mess. No wonder Mister Conagher always insisted on people doing what they're told the instant they're told, because if this is the result...

Still, it feels good to know what he's doing again. He may not know how to handle angels or kings, but charting a course is in his blood. And so long as he's giving orders and clearing the path, he can avoid thinking about it.

And the coal shall crumble, and the boilers burst, and the Primeval Engine shall wake to reclaim her gifts...

The Last Call. The one last heroic ride to take people where they needed, one last time once things had gotten too bad to do it safely. Without this station, sucking up the mishaps, it's only a matter of time. Piloting a train through the Heart is already dancing on a knife's edge, and doing so while contending with mechanical defects and unpredictable misfortions?

There's a part of him that desperately wishes to rebel against the very notion. He and Sasha have gotten so far, and now they won't even get to enjoy the full life of service they deserve? Impossible.

So it's anger that pushes him into the cabin, slams the door shut, and points Sasha-- somewhere. He doesn't even have a plan, but with King Dragon distracted and beams crumbling around them, this is the only chance they'll have to escape.

See, this station has absorbed bad luck for years, but it's never destroyed it. Any second now, centuries' worth of bad luck is going to explode from this point like water through a crumbling dam, and their only hope is to run before it, somehow dance on top of the wave, if they're to survive.

[14 on Clear a Path.]

Breathless Dead

"Redana! I do not! Hate you!"

Her voice shouldn't be this firm. She should be trembling at contradicting her, fearful of the consequences. She should be worried about the crabs, worried about keeping Redana safe. She should be angry at her for blinding her in a dangerous situation!

And as three arms lash out, sending crabs spinning, she realizes that yes, she's afraid. And angry, and worried! But the fourth arm reaches up to brace the princess tight because, well, she's also not lying.

It's an odd feeling, she decides, but also a nice one. Gently, she holds the princess tighter and experiments with a light squeeze.

"I do not," she repeats, "do not hate you. I am not waiting for you to take the command seal out to kill you. I do not want to kill you."

That's important to say. No uncertain terms, no vacillating, no weasel words. Clearcut, no room to misunderstand.

But Redana isn't talking to her, is she? Oh, she's doing all the right motions in all the right directions, but the real target is far away, on a different ship.

And now, Alexa takes the time to hold the princess securely, safely as she assembles her thoughts.

"I killed Molech, yes. But it was nothing to do with you, nothing to do with the seal or him giving me orders. He had to die because he didn't care about the people he hurt. And you, mistress, could not be less like him if you tried. You are, in many ways, the best master I have ever known. You care too much."

She's built the sentences in her mind, examined them for flaws, and pronounced them serviceable. But it's still hard to get them out. Because, yes, she's doing all the right motions in the right direction, but in reverse? Like she's trying to aim the words at that same faraway ship and bounce the echoes back in the right shapes.

"I resented you. Maybe resent you still, a little, for stealing me. I had my retirement, my peace, my life away from war and being a weapon. A quiet niche, something not too stressful to guard, plenty of time where I could not think for long periods of time.

"And you took that from me. Did not listen, simply did what you believed was right, and in so doing, tore me from my comfort. You loved people you did not know, and in so doing, doomed those closest to you. I cannot hate you for it, Mistress, because in addition to chaos, I have found wonder and friendship."

She's really pushing her luck here. She'd have been silenced before this conversation even began with a more conscientious monarch, and here she is practically telling her mistress off for her poor home life.

Might as well push it a bit further, right? She'd hate to get destroyed for only pushing it a little bit.

"But, hypothetically, if I had found chaos and nothing else? No friendship, no love, nothing but abandonment and the wrath of an empress at my failure? None of the trust I expected from somebody I thought cared for me more than some random peasants?"

She uncomfortably gives another comforting hug.

"Well, I hypothetically might be very hurt."

Breathless Dead

Alexa's head shoots up and whips to stare at Redana.

"I--wait, kill you?! Why would-- I do not-- you have not--!"

For the first time since Barassidar, Alexa properly takes in her ward. She'd sat through the tattooing and outfitting, but--well, with the letter burning a hole through her mind, she'd not really been focusing on the outfit. You'd have to be blind--and possibly on a different planet--to miss the outfit but.. Has she ever seen Redana so exhausted? Like an enormous weight has been placed on her, dragging each limp limb down? So droopy, so tired?

So covered in crabs?

With a small yelp, Alexa rushes forward and, to her credit, she tries to be delicate. The crabs are relatively small, but there are hundreds of them, each clambering over one another in a small sea of chitin. Picking the crabs off the princess one by one isn't working, so she decides on the next best thing: remove princess from crabs! It takes a bit of doing, but she clears out enough space to get a grip on the princess, and lifts her high above the wave of shellfish.

Which, alas, leaves Alexa about thigh-deep in the rising, skittering tide. Bother.

As delicately as possible, Alexa settles the princess on her shoulder. "Highness, if you will forgive my bluntness, why on earth would I kill you? You have done me no wrong, harmed none I care for. What cause have I to harm you?!"

She's not fully panicking, but that edge of strain is creeping into her voice now. Her ward is worried, concerned, and it's her fault!

"For that matter, there are at least two times in the past month alone that I did not harm you! When Bella brought you to her ship, did I stand with her and bring you back to Tellus, back to my niche? Nay! When the Bloodfeather stabbed you, did I let you bleed out? Did I avail myself of that same knife for my own? Or did I get you to safety, to medical attention? Highness, you are not the monster Molech was!"

Redana can't become that, right? She couldn't grow into that kind of tyrant? Alexa has to believe that!

Breathless Dead

Alexa's spear drops from nerveless hands, and she turns to Redana with shock writ large across her face.

"That is truly how you see me?"

There's shock on that large, rigid face, but the greater emotion still is sadness--an ancient weariness, writ across every line.

"You think me a rogue killing machine, flawed, faulty. Mad with age, a threat in waiting."

The spear flashes to her hands, and for a moment every muscle tenses to hurl it--at the crabs, perhaps, or simply away? Arms drawn back, grip tight, poised to throw--

And she sighs, lowers the spear, and tosses it on the ground. Winces, scrabbles, picks it up, and leans it gingerly against the wall.

But when she walks to the bit of errant debris, steps heavy, and sits arms wrapped around her knees, she does so facing away from the spear.

"Perhaps you are right." It comes out too quietly for it to be just her arms muffling it. "Maybe I am just an old machine, built for one purpose, whose time is past and is yet too stupid to see it."

One of the arms not locked around her knees snakes out and, after a bit of hesitation, pats the debris next to her.

Breathless Dead

It's impolite to laugh at your ward. Improper! Unimaginable! The perfect guard is emotionless unless needed, melts into the background, and certainly doesn't get the giggles.

So that choking sound Alexa just made is a grunt of effort from batting an overly courageous crab back down towards its compatriots, and the quirk at the edge of her lips is satisfaction at doing a job well done, and so there.

Alexa shakes her head ruefully and moves closer to Redana. That is the correct position, right? Sitting at her feet would demonstrate the proper deference, but seems inappropriate given both the still-damp tunnel and the imminent crabs. At the same time, facing towards the crabs allows her no ability to read the Princess. She hesitates, and then selects a careful ease next to the princess--not lax! Never lax!--but one that lets her watch both crabs and princess at once.

"It speaks well of you, Zeus-touched Highness, that you can tolerate a world in which your subjects do not view you as a perfect being. That you can rebel in this fashion, criticize your mother, is quasimiraculous."

Alexa rubs a thumb across the grip of the spear, traces the familiar grain of the shaft, lets its worn groove stabilize her while she lines up the right words in her head.

"To question the orders issued by the Warsage was to admit, however tacitly, a treasonous belief that he might be wrong. And to do so to his face! To insult, impugn, imply? Was to earn a traitorous reward."

She contemplates the crabs in silence, having run dry on sentences. Their wet skittering echoes distantly as Alexa thinks.

"I do not resent your mother the privilege of editing his book to fit her regime. Indeed, if she must have a foible, overly generous mercy can only be preferable to cruel, certain destruction."

The shadow of a scowl passes across her face, and she amends, "…in most cases."

More silence, more fitting of words into mental slots.

"Still, it is vital to recognize that it is an alteration from the original. If Molech ever wrote that--and having committed large portions of the original to memory, I can confirm he did not--he did not often put it into practice. To make an enemy a vassal is good, yes. But far better to teach other vassals-to-be the consequences of becoming his enemy."

Breathless Dead

These crustaceans do not have divine favour yet but they are, ominously, trying.

@Thanqol

Alexa stares at the smoldering ashes, and does her best to resist the urge to light another parchment.

That's not the result she was hoping for. Neutrality is better than Athena favoring the crabs, but that little flare-up at the end? How could that be anything but Athena's interest being piqued? Surely Alexa's not so far gone that even Athena would turn her back?

The precious scrap of parchment gives a nervous flutter in her breast pocket.

Maybe they have time for Redana to attempt the augury instead? The thought pains her but, as someone yet in favor with the gods, maybe--

“So what is up with you and Molech?”

@Tatterdemalion

Alexa freezes like a child caught with a hand halfway into the cookie jar.

Ah. Yes, that book. He never let anybody but himself near it, you know--it was his magnum opus, his legacy, and he'd be damned before he let lesser hands dilute his masterpiece. Alexa has read it cover to cover over a dozen times, looking for--looking for something. She's not sure what. Some hint? Some mention of her? Some idea that maybe, under all the bluster and distance, he might have--

That's not important. It's done with. He can't hurt anybody again.

She stands, not looking at Redana. It's not a snub--there are crabs, see? That's what she's looking at. Definitely.

"Zeus-touched Highness, I would crave a boon. I shall answer, but in doing so, I may tell a different story than your mother. May your wrath be brief at this?"

Fellowship: The Heart

It says much about today that all Coleman can muster is a tired stare. Just how much bad luck is this station keeping off the lines, if this is just one day here? Clowns, King Dragon, Angels.

Coleman is slow to climb down Sasha, patting her affectionately as he does, but it quick to draw Ailee close, if she'll allow it. Physical contact is amazing at drawing someone back to earth, stablizing them, and he needs that just as much as Ailee right now. "You're not gonna be happy when the professor gets back, then. We're gonna get out of here as soon as we find them, before anything else happens. Meet Wolf, by the way."

Breathless Dead

It's not that she doesn't trust Redana, you understand.

For all her faults, Alexa has never seen the princess flub a ritual. She's expert, punctilious, every motion practiced and precise, every syllable enunciated with the exact intonation required. There's no reason she couldn't perform this augury just as well as Alexa.

But... Look. These crabs are organized. Efficient. They've even formed into regiments! You don't get that without the touch of the war god. Which means that going into battle without first ensuring that she favors you would be ludicrous.

Almost as ludicrous, you might say, as insisting that the ward should come along with her into danger when she could just relax in an area without killer crabs. Yes, she knows that Redana and the hermetician cleared this out--she just about had an aneurysm when she found out! How can she guard her when she insists on actions like this?

No. She will not risk this until she's positive that Athena favors them and not the crabs.

(The letter burns against her chest, secure in its newly sewn pocket. She agonized over that--what if it gets wet down here? Redana insists that she mostly cleared out the water, but the thought that the precious information in the envelope might get damaged! It's only the even worse thought of leaving it alone, unguarded in her quarters, that saw her looking for a needle and thread.)