“Why do you offer me such brusque words? We were friends, once.” Her countenance was both devoid of tears and the relieved joy she expressed when she saw her Emperor’s spirit ascend. Indeed, as opposed to the helplessness and melancholy she was wont to display when she still haunted the castle’s hallways, her eyes shone with clarity, and her voice was confident and sure. Distance from the Darkening had made her youthful and strong again-- but the wounds on her heart and soul. Those, she knew, would never heal.
Yet, she did not hold the Scientist any ill will. Even after she fled the castle, a hand clutching her side, blood painting livid lines across her pinched face, she did not hate them. She pitied them, just as she did now.
“You needn’t be so suspicious. The only reason I came was to ease the Emperor’s passing... although thoughts of you never left me, even in Thra’s wastelands.” She drew in a silent breath, still keeping a wary distance. “There is talk that skekUng will be Emperor. I hope he, at least, gives you the recognition you deserve.”
She wanted to ask so many questions. How are you faring? Have you been remembering to sleep, to eat? Were those Garthim truly of your making? If so, how did you accomplish such a magnificent feat of bio-engineering? Did you miss me at all?
Yet, she voiced none of these things, for a part of her was already expecting rejection and the same curses that rained from their beak the moment they returned to their laboratory and viewed empty cages. Instead, she remained silent and waited to see if time had healed that rift even the slightest bit.
If they died, and she never got to say goodbye, she would never forgive herself.
although she lived far away from the petty squabbles that consumed her kin, she still maintained some connections for purposes of communication. keep enemies as close as friends, or so the old saying goes. however, skekSa could never have imagined in her wildest dreams that skekSo’s bids for power would cause him to decree the complete eradication of an entire people.
the gruenaks ordinarily lived in the Crystal Desert or the depths of the forests. strong and mechanically minded, they built great machines of iron and steel to mine, study the stars, and more efficiently farm. they were a peaceful race, but they had one fault: defiance. they refused to recognize skekSo as high regent of Thra or participate in his annual tithing ceremonies, and so, the Emperor had decided to send his generals to raze their towns and crops and push them into the Silver Sea until none were left alive.
it was a miracle that the slaughter hadn’t reached Cera-Na, although skekSa’s little ones most likely still heard the screams, screeching machines, and the Conqueror’s crowing laughter. could see the red surf and prone bodies lurching south from the battlefield.
the very thought caused skekSa’s fangs to grit together. she might have been many things, but she was no murderer– and how dare skekSo convince the other clans to go along with this with his propaganda.
well, she thought as she pulled three roped-together lifeboats to shore, everyone knew how little she cared for what the Emperor thinks. If he wanted all that blood on his conscience, that was his decision, but she’d be damned to the depths before she let this go on any further.
when she crept into the gruenaks’ camp, she was surprised at how few were left after the three brothers had set. there were many wounded, and females, elderly, and childlings besides; even then, however, barely enough to fill all three of those boats. she was expecting to rescue a clan, not this sad remnant.
many cowered upon seeing her, and skekSa’s heart clenched as she realized that, for the first time in her life, she was being viewed as a skeksis. not the Lord Mariner of the Sifa or a friend or captain. just a ruthless, conniving skeksis.
she didn’t like it. at all.
she lowered herself onto her knees and outstretched her hands. since she did not know their native language, she hoped simple Gelfling would suffice. “friend,” she tapped her chest before pointing to the shore. “brought boats. sail to safety with me?”
one of the healers cautiously inched forward. “lies,” he accused. “Conqueror friend.”
her expression hardened, and she had to fight to withhold a snarl. “no. Sifa friend. want help.” she gestured to the females and childlings. “stay here to die or come with me.” she pointed again to the sea. “know of islands. safe there.”
he fiddled with his thick fingers before turning to his fellows, large dark eyes perpetually filled with fear. nonetheless, skekSa perchance thought she heard hope soften the guttural notes of his language.
eventually, he turned back to her with a curt nod. “how many can take?”
“all,” skekSa murmured as she righted herself.
in the end, all did not come. the remaining soldiers wished to make their stand with what was left of the machines, farm equipment engineered into knife-throwers and catapults, in the hopes of at least felling skekGra, the one who attacked them with the most depravity, sparing neither youngling nor nursing mother. but, skekSa spent the next few hours painstakingly guarding the others’ passage to the boats, occasionally pausing to carry some of the critically injured. she could heal them all on Vassa. now, she just had to get away with this.
she was setting the last little one into the third longboat before the slight rustling of sand caused her to draw her cutlass and whip around to face the interloper. the gruenaks collectively gasped and cried as her steel met that of the Conqueror’s own. he looked at her, the boat passengers, and then back into her eyes.
“you would dare defy the Emperor?” he snarled. “these traitors are all due for execution at dawn.”
“sorry. seems you’ll have to reschedule,” she said, eyes narrowing. she raised herself to her full height, pushing against the other’s sword. she did not fail to notice how his hands were beginning to tremble. “now, here’s what you’ll be doing. you’ll turn tail and go back to your tent and devise what to do with the remaining soldiers while I take these innocent ones back to Vassa, savvy?”
“you can’t get away with this! the Emperor will have your head when he finds out!”
“finds out what?” she coldly countered. “that you let me, a scurvy-ridden rogue, waltz in here under your snout and grab these survivors? that you failed to do your duty?” she lowered her voice into a growl, primal and ancient. “that you let yourself be bested in combat?”
something appeared to break through the Conqueror’s madness. his eyes widened slightly. “you wouldn’t attack your own.”
“aye, but you’re not my own. you’re not Sifan. you’re a sadistic, immoral scoundrel whom I will happily attack and kill, if I have to.” a part of it frightened skekSa, but she knew that she meant every word. “so, what’ll it be? I can have one of my pretties take them all back to Vassa as we fight. maybe I’ll sever a few limbs before you decide you’ve had enough and call skekUng and skekVar to fix your mess. or… you can let us go, and we’ll pretend this never happened. which will you choose?”
there was a long, uncomfortable pause before, with a sharp hiss, the Conqueror withdrew.
“that’s what I thought,” skekSa purred.
their piercing glares never broke as skekSa entered a boat and whistled for three sea creatures to take the ropes into their teeth and begin pulling them towards Vassa.
the next morning, she was glad that Vassa had no windows, for she heard from her Sifa that the ‘skeksis lords’ had destroyed the rest of the gruenaks. the beaches were rife with carrion and entrails– a morbid feast for the birds.
and although the gruenaks’ attitude towards her softened considerably during their voyage to islands west of the Skarith region, that brief reflection of herself in their large, terrified eyes stayed with her.
The rotting, poison filled heart of this world, it fills him with dread that he exhales out, or the equivalent to it. The castle was built by urkSkes: he sees residue of their auras even now, but there's ... solid, stone like encasement all over it.
And skekSept drifted down the shaft, and found ... this. A terrible despairing aura lurks by ... seat like contraptions. It is back. The dread, so acute here.
The Lords of the Crystal visiting Har'ar was a sight that Brea had grown up, but even as a child she was quick to notice that some of the Lords visited much more frequent than others, and even back then her curious mind would ask herself, why? Even on the best days, she wasn't even allowed near them. She'd been paraded around as a child, introduced. But as she'd grown, also did her personality, and her family's apprehension at having her too close to the Skeksis for fear of embarrassment.
She knew her flaws well. It didn't help to be reminded of them constantly. It seemed being accepted wasn't an option, so she'd come to accept that as the state of things instead. It came with great surprise, however, when one of the Lords walked right into the Library. She hadn't seen this one before, merely read about the one they called the Scientist.
She'd heard the Librarian's warm babbling, welcoming someone in, but paid no mind to it until the towering figure passed clear over the stacks of books she was perusing. Her first instinct was to duck down behind them, trying to catch herself from her own state of surprise before peering back up curiously, nose just barely passing over the edge of a dusty tome.
"H-hello!" she greeted, a tad too enthusiastically.
11. for what would your character give their life?
if she wasn’t fighting to maintain her freedom, she’d be fighting for the Gelfling. does a part of her still think that the resistance is a suicide mission? absolutely. but Thra help any skeksis that touches a Gelfling in front of her, especially a Sifa. she might even attack the Emperor if enraged enough.
although things are still naturally tense between the Sifa and her after the events of Tides, she’d probably still be healing the wounded and advising Maudra Ethri. and tearing Garthim apart with her bare hands. rip to skekUng, but those are her little ones, and she’s different.
15. what is your character afraid of?
hmm, let’s see. skekSo, and by extension SoSu. rejection and abandonment. imprisonment, particularly in cramped, dark spaces due to her short stay within that tree. never being able to see the ocean again-- she has an almost physiological need for it due to her makeup. members of the urskek mariner caste are meant to live in and around oceans. if they don’t, they will wither and die. that is part of the reason why skekSa looks younger and far more healthier than the other skeksis. she spent far more time in her element, far away from the Darkening’s spread.
losing herself is also a big fear. although skekSa has relatively fond memories of being SaSan, she fears that she will cease to exist if she and urSan rejoin. she views reunification as a death rather than a rebirth.
So long had she suffered in darkness and in doubt. Too long. But change was coming. She could feel it. She had been prepared to see skekSo’s death, and the triumph of finding him whole again rekindled the cooled ember of hope in her aching bosom. Not wanting to see the Scientist suffer the same fate without at least saying goodbye, she lingered there in the humid stone hallways, which still reeked of rot and death and the musky earthiness of podling essence.
She watched outside the circle during the Emperor’s burial ceremony-- for she was no Skeksis, not anymore-- and saw what remained of his physical form be set aflame. Yet, no more tears did she shed. She merely stood in the archway, gaze solemn and pensive. She thought it a pity that the others no longer possessed her spiritual insight. SoSu was whole again. Those ashes were merely a remnant of his suffering and were better off destroyed.
She witnessed the Haakskeekah, the Trial by Stone. With a bitter sort of satisfaction, she saw skekUng best skekSil, and her old friend be the first to join the contracting mob, claws wrathfully ripping and tearing at the Chamberlain’s ceremonial robes. skekSil’s eyes briefly met hers, silently asking if she would stop this. She did nothing. Said nothing. But her jutting chin and narrowing eyes spoke volumes on their own.
She eyed the Chamberlain as he snuck away, and a small worry gripped her. Two Gelfling had been discovered outside of her sanctuary. It was so long ago, and yet she knew them and their parents-- Jen, Kira. By all means, she should be outside, protecting and guiding them for their parents’ sakes.
What was sundered and undone shall be made one, by Gelfling hand or else by none.
But she was tired and felt a soreness, like an infected wound, down to her very soul. Let Aughra care for her children this day, she decided. She had done so for long enough. She would remain there and see to the Scientist’s safety-- she had not been there before, but she was there now.
So much had changed since her exile, and yet so many things remained the same. They still groused and grumbled; they still could not comprehend the depth nor the reasons behind her bleeding heart, yet they were still her friend, even after their rejection, even after the wounds they inflicted.
She was content to linger in the catacombs by their it’s laboratory, watching over it until the conjunction had passed and her dreams were either dashed or fulfilled, but yet another tragedy occurred. At least, it seemed to be such to her in the moment. There was a struggle as a Gelfling entered the catacombs and was subsequently captured by the Ritual Master. Kira. When she was brought into the laboratory at skekUng’s behest, the former Councilor moved to free her but, the next thing she knew, all of the Scientist’s animals had escaped their cages. They were attacking it!
Even her supernatural speed could not aid her in reaching them in time. One moment, they were there, screeching and flailing, and the next, they were gone, falling down the shaft leading to Thra’s core.
She knew it was a foolish decision. If Kira died, what hope did her family have of reuniting with themselves? But her heart had always had a nasty habit of overpowering her mind. She ran forward and dove in after them.
She was not there before, but she was there now.
Her vessel’s death was not painful. It felt as if she were flying into someplace warm. The flames quickly destroyed any nerve endings until she was consumed completely.
When she--it-- opened it’s eyes again, it was free. It was no longer trapped within a fragile vessel of flesh and bone. Pashaoivae would never have to endure mortal pain again.
Once it grew accustomed to seeing through many eyes again, it’s wings and body tilted to observe a familiar beam of light. If it were still mortal, it would have wept, but angels do not weep. Instead, the blood red lips located on it’s face curled into a smile. And, despite it’s joy, a feeling so powerful that it glowed brighter than the flames around them, it made itself small. It’s six wings folded into it’s thin, white torso, and all six of it’s hands grasped each other and curled inward. No UrSkek had seen it like this before.
A soft “be not afraid” budded in it’s mouths, but it found it could not utter anything for fear of breaking the intimate peace of this encounter. Besides, TekTih did not seem afraid. They seemed awed, sorrowful, perhaps even guilty, for they now had to contend with memories from both urTih and skekTek, both of whom were so lost and incomplete apart from the other.
“I’m sorry,” they finally murmured, slowly glancing down at their own limbs in disbelief. Pasha could practically see the thoughts racing through it. I did this. My inability to deal with rage and grief caused me to hurt myself and those around me. My love for discovery caused me to immolate myself. My research caused me to kill countless innocents. How can I move past this?
All would not be easily forgotten, but it would be easily forgiven, at least on Pasha’s account. The seraph floated towards the fallen UrSkek and found itself overwhelmed with sympathy. They still had ages yet to heal, and there might never be a place for them on the homeworld, yet perhaps that was a good thing-- Those who did not appreciate their brilliance did not deserve them. It’s opinion on that never changed. And, when they healed, they would do so together.
With a low, celestial keen, Pasha wrapped it’s arms around the other’s energy, wings loosely folding around them. “Soul-twin you are to me. A friend closer than a brother. What care I for the past? Together are we. Now that you are yourself and I am free, nothing shall part us again.”
TekTih’s brow furrowed and, like always, they seemed to struggle to find words with which to counter it’s soul-baring. They finally decide on: “I don’t understand. Why?”
Pasha pulled away slightly, and it’s smile widened, revealing a familiar dimple. “The greatest scientist I have ever known, you are, and yet must realize that not all things can be explained or quantified. My love is mine to give to whom I will, and already gave it as a gift when exiled I was on Thra. Not meant to be taken back, are gifts.”
A chuckle escaped them, despite themself. “Even in this form, you have not changed.”
“One were Pasha and Snow, just as urTih and skekTek were one.” TekTih’s glow dimmed at the very mention of it’s ‘darker’ half’s name before a brief song welled in Pasha’s multiple throats, a sweet tune full of reassurance and acceptance despite all. And then it uttered their name, mind-of-light. “Olpirt manin,” it soothed. “Suffered enough we have. Think it’s time both follow the other’s advice and mend.”
It extended a hand and, after a beat of familiar companionate silence, TekTih took it, and they both descended upward, past the scent of decay and ended life, past the chaos of mortal beings, past the screams of those among them who did not yet wish to become themselves.
it hasn't been long since that day, the one it's simply dubbed the first day. legs still wobble every now and again and it still faults to speak, but it knows one thing; this creature can be trusted, it stays close to her and here it comes now! a ball of blue feathers chirping and stumbling, dragging what seems to be leftovers of a busted machine behind it.
A full trine has not yet passed since the great rending, and the sight of her beloved ones disintegrating into something not urSkek, but fragile and physical, still haunts her whenever she closes her eyes. Yet, her rage that day has long since ebbed and has been replaced with both caution and care. Two of the twice-nine have died already, and she does not want them to harm one another again, especially this inquisitive blue-feathered creature with TekTih’s golden eyes.
Her head tilts, and a smile blooms at it’s comfortingly achingly familiar presence. Neither it nor the others yet speak, but Snow still manages to understand. It is excited because it has found something.
Her eyes wander toward the mangled machinery trailing behind it; her smile softens, and her eyes grow misty. This was–is?– TekTih’s. A failed project that it eventually abandoned for favor of a more intriguing experiment.
She crosses the distance between them and stays it’s still-uneasy gait with a gentle hand. The machine is bulky and heavy, and a bit awkward to find a handhold in, but once she does, she lifts it up with seemingly no effort. Chuffing in amusement, she leans her head down and nuzzles the other’s cheek.
As they walk together, she nods to their stance and hums. It is getting better when it comes to both strength and grace, but it should still leave the heavy lifting to her.
‘ 𝙾𝙷 𝙽𝙾 -- you found me. i’m shhhhhaking. can you see me shaking , skektek ? ’ skekgra perhaps has never sounded more bored in his entire , quite lengthy life. with his abhorant flare for dramatics , however , even bored sounded a bit too... exciting. ‘ i’m still banished. see ? me ? in this tastefully decorated cave ? banished ! so either you are very lost , or you need something. and if it’s the latter , i have one thing to say to you , my old friend. tough noogies ! ’
