The Memorium Keeper.
--Or, Amma's exile to Whiteward.--
Beginning Notes:
So this is a fic about how Amma used to be the researcher in charge of maintaining the Memorium, a long time ago when the Citadel was in its gilded age. I wrote it all today, and it might not be 100% canon (though I tried to remain accurate enough to it), but I'm REALLY proud of it and I'd love if you guys read it!
It's 2.7k words long, so I'll link the document if you don't want to read all that on Tumblr's format. Here it is!
TW'S for implied child death, implied medical torture, amma's spirals, implied (canon) mass death
Also Amma's still attached by her devotion to the Citadel here so her biases are going to reflect that a little bit
Ellipsus makes it easy for anyone to write together.
The researcher held a nymph.
It hadn't been easy to acquire by any means — it did not belong to a sentient species, but the bugs of Livewater were viscously protective over anyone that lived there.
The researcher sighed softly. She had tried to explain — this was for the good of their kind, to preserve their environment if anything were to happen to them. They hadn't understood, or hadn't cared, maybe — all they'd seen was the emblem of the Citadel in gold thread on her coat, and they'd made up their minds.
So her hand had been forced, though she hadn't come away unscathed.
The nymph in her arms had no such concerns. It seemed to enjoy the softness of her coat, and laid there contently without protest, its soft little body curled up. Good. Perhaps she could help it grow, then, stronger and larger in safety.
She opened the gilded door to the Memorium. Her Memorium. The atrium sat in the middle, a bench off to the side in a lower hallway, lit from above by a reversed glass dome filled with small glowing flies. A message board stood a little higher within the atrium, and she glanced at it.
Moss Grotto stasis sustained — Preserved.
River of Karak stasis sustained — Preserved.
Shellwood stasis sustained — Preserved.
Marrowlands stasis sustained — Preserved.
Livewater stasis incomplete.
But she was getting closer. She had already set up the environment — water, a humid air, roots growing freely. Plenty of decay to fertilize the new plants. The Nitrogen cycle was already stable.
All she needed was to get the nymph settled within, and monitor its chances at survival. They should be high, now. She wouldn't bring a nymph to the environment if they weren't.
The researcher wrapped her wounds in bandages as she walked, climbing up the brass platforms until she reached the entrance to the Livewater chamber. She pulled the heavy lever, and as the door lifted, a warm humidity drifted out.
"Here you go, little one." She set the nymph down in the thick dirt, and it uncurled, blinking at her briefly with large eyes before scurrying away into the developing undergrowth.
Briefly, she thought about what it had taken to acquire it. That she had fought her way into a nest, and fought her way back out. Was that the right thing to do? She was preserving their lives, and there had already been accidents, spilled sewage water from a broken treatment plant, accidental poisonous fumes…what else was she to do? The Citadel couldn't protect all of them, as they still tried to figure out to how to make the great capital function without damage. This was the next best thing.
She felt the shadow in the doorway before she stood back up.
"Conductor Romino," she said flatly. Their massive metal mantle blocked the doorframe and blocked the light from the Atrium, and a sense of foreboding came over her, as it always did with the Conductors' presences. What did they want with her?
They responded with a name that made her wince, just barely. "What are you doing, researcher?"
She turned. "Developing my Memorium, Conductor."
"I don't recall giving you clearance for this."
Don't recall…?
Amma scrunched one eye. "You did. Your choral commandment is on the message board just outside this room, I can show it to you —"
"No, researcher. I don't recall giving you the clearance to preserve this place."
"What? But this Memorium needs to preserve every place, so that if an accident happens with the Citadel, they can be resto—"
"I am well aware why you develop these stasis chambers. Nevertheless, the Citadel has its own plans, and you do not need to concern yourself with Livewater."
The researcher could feel she was standing on thin ice. Romino seemed to loom over her with their massive frame.
Bugs disappeared for less. But she still asked.
"Why?"
She swore she saw the conductor's glowing eyes narrow slightly, despite being fixed into metal. "You're wasting your time here. The Citadel needs you to focus your efforts on more important locations."
More important? She felt her heart begin to thump a little harder.
Livewater was close to the Citadel. If there was a catastrophic sewage leakage, it could be incredibly dangerous for the bugs who lived there.
She'd worked hard on this place. Recreating the ecosystem of a swamp had not been easy.
"Does that mean….you've figured out the problems with the sewage treatment?"
Conductor Romino leaned down, their glowing eyes level with the researcher's. "Yes."
Somehow, that did not comfort her. Something insistent buzzed in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. She shifted her mandibles slightly inside of her mask. "What do you want me to do with this chamber?"
"The Citadel will take care of it for you, as you work on preserving more important areas."
Take care of it? Keep it alive? What about the little nymph in there?
"What…do you want me to focus on instead?"
The Conductor straightened, and walked — or perhaps glided — to the message board. There were a few regions she hadn't yet touched.
"Verdania."
Verdania? It was at much lower risk of being harmed. It was farther away, full of a skilled
The buzzing voice told her she'd expired the Conductor's patience.
The researcher dipped her head slightly. "Very well, Conductor. I will make a chamber for Verdania."
—
During her return journey, she heard pleading in the halls of the Choral Chambers.
"Please, I just need to speak with a Conductor —"
"What business do you have here, Karakian?"
The voices of the Grand Reeds.
The researcher tucked her seeds and roots into her coat, and peeked around the corner. A small bug, red and orange and pink, stood before the tall figured of the Grand Reeds, their hands clasped.
"Please. Karak is running out of water, the river's drying up. Our people are in drought. We're already losing good warriors to thirst —"
"The Conductors do not have time to spare for a sniveling Karakian bug. They are far too busy."
Drought? But Karak had been full of water, hadn't it? Bright coral and beautiful fishlike bugs…the researcher had been there not too long ago, taking small pieces of coral to grow in her Memorium.
"But you're just using it for the High Halls! We need that to survive!"
"Are you questioning the decisions of the Citadel?" The Reed's voice gained an edge. "It has given you an answer."
Footsteps and the clanking of something metal were coming from the other way. The researcher turned. She had to leave before she was spotted eavesdropping, and if anything happened involving the Slab…she couldn't have a reason to be sent to that unforgiving place as well. What an idiot the bug was, talking back to the Grand Reeds. How had they even gotten this far into the Citadel in the first place?
She heard the fool answer, and picked up her footsteps. "No! But I'm sure if you reconsider —"
It was hard to parse the voices becoming increasingly distant. Pleading, cries, yelling, the sounds of metal and silk…the clamor faded as she forced herself to keep a walking pace to the Memorium.
But if there was a drought…maybe she could help. There was a mutation of the coral that had developed in her chambers, one that was suited to dry climates with no water, and small bugs with the ability to hide and preserve moisture in dry periods. If she gave Karak those organisms, maybe it would help them. This is what she'd built the Memorium for.
And…surely, the High Halls could share some of its water? There was no benefit in killing neighboring kingdoms. And everyone wanted what was best. Eternal glory to the Citadel didn't have to come at the cost of everyone else. She was sure it wouldn't.
But she needed to drop off these seeds as well.
Moss Grotto stasis sustained — Preserved.
River of Karak stasis sustained — Preserved.
Shellwood stasis sustained — Preserved.
Marrowlands stasis sustained — Preserved.
Verdania stasis incomplete.
Livewater was no longer on the message board.
That piece of silk parchment was simply…gone. Pulled carefully away from the rest.
Her stomach sank. She didn't remember doing that.
The Citadel will take care of it for you.
She dropped the seeds in a small storage container, and scrambled up the platforms to her Livewater chamber. It had to be a mistake. It couldn't be a mistake. It had to be a mistake.
Shattered glass scattered across the floor. Broken lanterns hung haphazardly from the ceiling, threatening to fall at any moment. The windows to her Livewater chamber were broken, and the inside was darkened. Dirt smeared the intact glass.
No. This couldn't have happened. Bile rising in her throat, the researcher approached her smashed chamber, lifting a small hand lantern to see by.
Everything was uprooted. Plants were scattered everywhere. The water was brackish, the nitrogen cycle destroyed, turned into the poisoned standing water that sometimes filled buildings after their destruction, releasing their noxious fumes.
The nymph she had taken, had built this chamber for, had tried to care for as best as she could, was nowhere to be found. Its dead body could be laying in the deep shadows of the upturned plants, having succumbed to the fumes.
The researcher's legs gave out beneath her, and she dropped to her knees, nausea wracking her frame.
It couldn't…it couldn't have been Conductor Romino who had ordered this?
They couldn't have. They couldn't have.
She couldn't wail. Instead, a deep gut-wrenching groan escaped her.
What was the reason for doing such a thing? Why?
The smell of the fumes filled her nostrils. She would be poisoned if she just stayed slumped here.
It was difficult to stand up. Her legs shook.
The little nymph. The baby.
She groaned again and nearly retched, her breaths quick and heavy.
What had she come here to do? The researcher couldn't remember. All she remembered was the warmth of the nymph in her arms.
The acid-bile turned to heat, searing her throat in anger.
They didn't care about Livewater. She wasn't even sure Conductor Romino had told her the truth about the sewage systems.
Water.
Karak was dying.
Numbly, she let her legs carry her to the Karak chamber. Untouched. No threat.
She had to do something. This is what she had built her Memorium for. She couldn't let those she could help suffer as her grief crushed her. If she could just take the dry-environment coral to Karak, then maybe it would save water for the warriors.
She had to hope. Even just a little bit.
The coral was not easy to dig up, but she managed with a smaller bloom. It was too large to fit in her coat. She put it in a bag instead and slung it over her shoulder. Hopefully, she was trusted enough that no one would demand answers.
What came after felt disjointed, disconnected. No one stopped her in the halls. No one asked about her unsteady gait or empty look. She reached the Grand Gate far too quickly — or maybe it took an eternity. But they let her.
So she stepped out of the Citadel, and into the drying River of Karak.
—
The researcher was stopped on her way back by a Grand Reed at the gate.
"Researcher." He called her by the same name that made her wince. "Where have you been?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Karak."
She had no reason to be in trouble. She hadn't done anything wrong — her Memorium was built to help bugs. It had been approved for that purpose.
"Conductor Romino has a message for you. You've been transferred."
Her heart skipped a beat, and her throat went dry. Transferred?
Being transferred could be a good thing. It could mean promotion, further training, further freedom, higher rank. One could be transferred to the role of a Grand Reed, or an Envoy, or even a Minister. But it also could mean something else altogether, and with the state of her Livewater chamber…
No. She'd face the Conductor. She wanted answers.
She gripped the strap of her bag with both pairs of hands. "Where are they? I'll speak to them right now."
"They're right inside."
The researcher gritted her mandibles and shoved past him, into the massive entry hall. Huge brass scales stood around her, large enough for a bug to stand on one of the balances — she'd been told they represented the mighty justice of the Citadel, the divine system of sin and penitence that only they had successfully implemented.
Conductor Romino stood at the other end of the hall, metal frame as massive as always.
"Where are you transferring me?" She tried to keep her tone level, but her voice had an edge. She was beginning to lose her patience as well.
They did not move at all as they spoke. "The Citadel has determined that your skills would be of better use elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
The Conductor turned and glided into the Citadel.
The researcher followed, her four hands balling into fists. "What do you mean, elsewhere? I'm working on my Memorium. I'm working on preserving Verdania, like you asked. I can't just leave. I have a job."
"You have been relieved of that duty."
Her chest clenched. Were — were they going to destroy the rest of the chambers too? Were they going to kill everything in there?
She continued to follow them through the Choral Chambers, through the impeccable gilded hallways, her claws digging into her palms. "What are you going to do to it?"
You have to stop talking. You will be punished.
"Are you going to destroy it, like you destroyed my Livewater chamber? Like you killed that fucking nymph?"
The Conductor stopped, and the researcher's chest heaved.
Do it.
The silence dragged on.
Try and punish me. Try and hurt me. Try to take my research away. I'm your best scientist.
"We've reached the place of your transfer," is all they said.
She sucked in a sharp breath and prepared to throw another insult, before realizing that the atmosphere had changed. She hadn't been paying attention to where they'd been walking.
The light had turned sterile, and the gilded hallways had turned into a large plain room. A grey metal elevator loomed over them both, marked with a large scalpel.
She stumbled, and the edges of her vision throbbed. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe.
No. Not the Whiteward.
She took a step back, and Conductor Romino's claw grabbed her arm in a crushing grip.
"You will now be under the jurisdiction of Conductor Mizello. The Citadel has determined that your unique constitution will make you a valuable addition to their science."
"No," The researcher croaked. "No, I can't—"
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." Their voice got louder as hers got softer. "You don't have an input in this, researcher. Consider it…penitence."
"Penitence?" Her voice was high with panic, the kind that flooded her veins, made it impossible to think. "Conductor, what have I done?"
"You know very well what you've done."
No. No, she didn't.
What did she do?
What did she do?
"Conductor, please —"
"You will not interfere with the Citadel again."
Desperately, the researcher tried to claw Conductor Romino away, and silk wrapped around her wrists, restraining her further. "No. No, please, I didn't — everything was for them, was for you, please —"
They were an immovable wall, and she was pushed closer and closer to the elevator. If she went down there, she'd never return. Never.
"Please. Please! PLEASE!"
Pain lit up in her face, and the world around her went black for a moment, and she was tossed roughly into the chamber.
"ROMINO!"
The last thing she saw of the Citadel was their expressionless, metal face.
The doors closed.
