Razing the Ground

(3:2:6)

“I’m sorry.”

It seemed everyone was apologising these days. She glanced at Winds briefly before returning her attention to the city stretched out below, the market bustling with life. Resting her arms on the rail, she ignored the glances of a few others as they passed up the steps. “As long as you weren’t the one who told them where it was, I’m willing to let it slide.”

“I wasn’t.” He paused, his own stance about as stiff as a piece of wood, his hair ruffled by the breeze now long enough to tickle his ears. “I’m still sorry.”

“I still wonder how you managed to find it.”

“I saw you travelling there. I followed.” His eyes seemed so dull as they stared out over the colourful stalls and market-goers, the gold in his irises washed-out. The hair suited him, but that dim gaze didn’t. “No one saw me. I made sure my presence wasn’t tracked.”

For a moment they simply stayed there.

“I hope they can be released soon.”

She sighed, scratching at a chip in the metal. “Seih’s working on it. At least they won’t be executed or anything, but... I don’t know if he can manage it.”

“He seems to have the support of Firalk, at least. Domini Tambo enjoys stirring up trouble.”

He lapsed into silence again, and she blew out a breath, finally turning to really look at him. “And what are you going to do?”

Some of the glow returned to his eyes as they drifted back to meet hers, questioning.

“I remember you saying people are idiots. You don’t think me and the Constructors are idiots?” She tilted her head.

He glanced away, a sour look on his face. “Most people. Humanity is a mixed bag. I never said all people are idiots.”

“So... you think there are still some good people in the world?”

He closed his eyes, mimicking an exhale. “Maybe.”

(3:2:3)

Maybe.

The thought echoed back at him across Soulspace, gathered from a thousand dissenting voices bouncing through the relays. Those relays whispered to him with a thousand remnants of the people who interacted with them every day. People worried for their loved ones, people terrified for their own lives, and those who chose to ignore the entire thing.

What was the point in worrying? That’s what they seemed to say, laughing at a table in the Hub, smiling at a friend in the Springs, snorting at the worry of a friend in another room. These people who seemed totally ignorant of the shadow to the north, or the east.

Perhaps Petrahns could rest safe in the knowledge that their people were fighting in the war. Those in Firemount had no excuse.

He heard grumbles and whispers, hisses of betrayal. The Loh Unity would turn against them once they gained a real foothold, sweeping across Coletti and turning their eye to Firemount. The Arathnean Queen was becoming restless with the campaign, they muttered, rumours spreading from the east. Perhaps she would send forces down to them and capture their lands, demanding they give up their scalelets, forcing them into slavery to produce constructs. After all, the humans in Arathnea were practically slaves already, beneath the Arachnids as they were.

“That Seih,” they murmured, huddled like rats, “he wants us to just give ourselves to them. And it looks like Firalk is going with him! They should all be removed from the Ripple....”

Winds curled his lip, eyes narrowed to slits. Yes, some people were fools.

“Winds.” Fingers snapped in the real world, and he focused to see Hafest glancing back at him. “I grow tired of your tardiness, Divination.”

“If you asked another question, it may please you to find the answer yourself, instead.” He fell into step behind him.

His master chuckled, a predatory tinge to the sound. “Indeed. You know, I find your recent change in attitude intriguing.”

“Perhaps it is less a change, and more of a reveal.”

Hafest turned, raising an eyebrow. “I stand corrected.”

The man smiled, dropping back slightly and leaning closer to him, a glint in his eye. “But I’d like to have you remember that while I may tolerate words, I will not turn a blind eye to actions.”

Looking him dead in the eye, unblinking, Winds saw only his captor, dangling the keys above his head. “But you have never tolerated words, my master.”

A nasty grin answered him, a finger swiping at the fringe of his hair. “That’s enough out of you.”

Hafest did like forcing him to keep up. Lengthening his stride and settling into the familiar glide of a near-run, he nearly missed Feather’s stare. He didn’t miss her voice yanking sharply at him.

|What are you doing?|

|Following my master.|

|Winds—|

He turned and fixed her with a glare as she strode beside them, her longer legs better able to keep pace. |Are you planning to tell me to be careful?|

Her eyes narrowed to slits, a burning red lighting her usually dull irises, her sense gripping firmly at him. |You are not being rational.|

|I seem to be the only rational one here.| He deflected her with a silent hiss, his own eyes flashing. |The world ends in a few months. Why should I be constrained if my existence is to end anyway? Perhaps I should see what it’s like to have a free will. Perhaps I should see what it’s like to live.|

She stared at him, the two of them unblinking, the tips of his blades glinting on his wrists. Her voice whispered across the distance between them, laced with sadness.

“You will not last the week.”

&&&

“I tolerate talk.” Hafest’s sword rasped from its sheath, the thin blade humming. “What I do not tolerate, is being made a fool.”

The point levelled at him, gleaming in the cloudy light beyond the windows.

“Would you make a fool of me, Winds?”

He never took his eyes off the man, Hafest’s aura too calm, too level. Remaining still, he kept his hands on the grip of his own sword, watching every muscle-flex—loose and relaxed, confident. “No, my master.”

“So very formal. That’s quite unlike you.” The other tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

And he moved.

With a clang, metal met metal, Hafest pressing in close, a glitter in his eyes that set Winds’ senses on high alert. There was something... wrong, here.

“That’s good. Because I know what you’ve been doing. I know where you’ve been going. And I know it’s why you’ve been stepping outside your little Divination boundaries, lately.”

A twitch locked his fingers tighter around the sword’s grip, a prickle of something cold curling around his soulcore and trickling through his bones. How... how much? How much did he know?

His master snapped back, a sweep catching his sword and forcing him to stumble back, half-crouching, instinctively feeling as if this would be the appropriate moment to possess a pounding heart. Especially as those cold eyes gazed down at him, still smiling.

“I’ll give you an order, Winds, and I won’t repeat myself. Stay away from Soulspace.” The man turned, paused, and threw over his shoulder. “Oh, and I won’t be sending you on any more errands, or allowing you out of the house without my permission. If I find you breaking any of these commands...

“well, I’m afraid that sparkling, rebellious little personality of yours will have to go.”