It's a relief that Five Pebbles doesn't immediately jump on the proposed solution. Hornet had done so when the Caretaker had presented the idea to her, and all of Pharloom had suffered terribly for her eagerness to escape the yoke of her own instincts. She still doesn't relish the idea of giving Five Pebbles all the details of the snare, but at least there's some hope that he won't be reckless with the information if she does.
That his restraint may only be due to his own mistakes in the past hardly matters. Hornet's own mistakes are the only reason she acts with such caution now. There's empathy there, as well. She knows what it's like to desperately seek a seemingly impossible solution, and the actions one might take in that desperation.
"I would be thankful for any further guidance you can grant me, scholar. Your assistance will see this leg of my journey finished much sooner than I would have dared to hope. If there's any task I can accomplish for you along the way, simply name it."
There are a thousand other subjects she wants to ask him about right now. The nature of the barrier surrounding them, the details of his construction, the nature of his illness, the history of the iterators, the minutiae of the Wheel of karma, the story of his deceased kin, why this place suffers such regular deluges of rain—and each of those questions would spawn a thousand more, she's sure.
But the mention of Eight Spools Bound curbs her curiosity. She came here with a specific purpose in mind and she shouldn't delay it without good cause. She'll find the Weavers, give them the news, and learn what she can from them and their host. Then she can come back to speak to Five Pebbles again.
Save for one little detail that she can't afford to lead unaddressed.
"There is one more thing I wish to ask you before I depart. You told me that the citizens who once resided upon you were able to escape from karma after they 'burrowed deep into the earth'. Do you know what it is they found?"
Scholar. It sounds a quaint term to him, but he supposes there is only a limited amount of terms one might use for a being such as himself, with access to such a substantial amount of knowledge.
A task that she can accomplish...
"To your first question: if you find anything that might aid in an iterator's repair from a state of severe damage, I would request that you bring it back to me so I can inspect it and see if it will aid a...colleague of mine. She has suffered greatly for my mistakes. I would like to ease her pain as reparation, if that is at all possible."
He is not too proud to admit he has made mistakes. An apology will do the both of them no good, but at the very least he can try to make up for it.
"And to your second: it was a phenomenon called 'Void Fluid' that they found. They drilled through the wreckage of civilizations beyond count to the depths below, and found something that would grant them the ascension they sought.
That is the old way, of course. To simply descend until you could submerge yourself. Later generations created great networks of pipes and filtration systems, to purify it and bring it to the surface, so they might bathe in it and leave this world behind forever...
Well. Most of them did so. But the scavengers...they are irritating creatures crawling all over my structure to strip it of metal, perhaps you saw a few on your way here. They have a mark--" and here he superimposes, on the wall of the chamber, a symbol scrawled in white paint on some distant wall, "--and it dictates a certain oddity, a ripple in the world, that my overseers have failed to produce coherent data of. They do not break down, but whatever is there, they cannot see it.
If you see one of those, perhaps by seeking out what it marks you will find better understanding of the answer to your question. I have my suspicions about what they might be, but I have never been able to confirm it for myself, since moving from here is, of course, beyond my power."
Nor has he ever really wanted to move. It's not like they make portable cans, iterators weren't built to just roam about. It might amuse some of his compatriots, though...perhaps it wouldn't have gotten to this state if they were able to be more...portable.
A colleague who has 'suffered greatly' as a result of his mistakes? Another question she wishes she could press him about, but once again it's something she'll have to leave for later. For now, she simply nods her assent. She's not sure if such a thing exists, or if she'll recognize it even if she does, but she'll look anyway. Even though the suffering this other iterator is his fault, it's another mark in his favor that he's asking Hornet to assist her. Hornet's offer to aid him is the reward for his aid. It can't be called truly selfless that he's willing to use it make amends, but it speaks to his character all the same.
Hearing the phrase 'Void Fluid' utterly fails to surprise her. The terminology might be slightly different, but what else could the iterators' creators have found that would ensure their 'escape' from this world? Not even the news that something seemingly went wrong with this method elicits anything more than understanding in her. Again, what else should she expect when she hears that simple bugs have tampered with her kin's domain? Truly, the only shocking thing is that Pebbles Describes this complication as a mere 'ripple'. She would have thought it would be closer to 'disaster'.
The story as a whole, however, does send a thread of uneasiness winding through her. This Wheel that Five Pebbles claimed his creators were bound to... how torturous was it that those ancient bugs saw casting themselves into the Void as preferable?
More questions she doesn't have the time to ask. It's clear to her now that, despite his vast stores of knowledge, Five Pebbles immobile nature has denied him an understanding of many parts of the world. And oh, she has her own opinions about his creators' decision to anchor him to one spot, but right now it's time to get moving.
Save for one more small detail she still needs to resolve.
"Just another small thing. Should I meet this distressed colleague of yours, or another of your kind, I would like to be able to tell them who aided me upon my arrival here.
That question, simple as it is, gives him pause. It's been a long time since he's needed to introduce himself; he's used to everyone, everything, knowing what and who he is.
But those days are long past. He doubts the creatures that scrabble for life in his shadow, make their simple homes atop his shell, are even aware he exists.
"I am known as Five Pebbles. My kind usually has names that vary in length from two to five words, parts of mantras or pieces of culture that once meant a great deal to our citizens.
Now, of course..." He shrugs. "They are simply our names."
A pause. It seems at first that he has no more to say, his halo retracting and then expanding outward as the room fills with power once more, levitating the pearls around him and sending Hornet rising gently upward.
"It has been a very long time since I talked to anyone, much less a stranger who can actually respond to me.
It has been an interesting experience. As petitioners go, you are by far not the least of them."
The pause has Hornet wondering is she's made a mistake, and that Five Pebbles doesn't actually have a name. But then the answer comes, and the pause remains a mystery. Perhaps he's just not used to people asking?
"Five Pebbles," she repeats. "Perhaps one day I can learn the history of your eponym."
But as she says: one day. Right now it's time to go. She offers no protests when that soul-like power begins circulating through the room once more. She's expecting the weightlessness that comes with it, this time, and she's able to angle herself to rise towards the ceiling with more grace than she descended from it.
She's not expecting Five Pebbles to speak again. She looks down, her head tilted just so as she considers his words. Hornet has spent more of her life alone than not. She's always been keenly aware of the steady grind of isolation. That awareness has only grown now that there are friends and neighbors—even family, when she lets herself hope—that she wishes to see again. Five Pebbles's parting words may not actually contain the phrase 'thank you', but Hornet hears it ringing clear.
"Likewise, it's rare that I meet any bug willing to converse in my travels, let alone one as knowledgeable as yourself. I look forward to whatever communications we may be able to exchange through your overseers."
There. Five Pebbles didn't quite say 'thank you', and Hornet didn't quite say 'you're welcome'. But with that exchange not quite made, it really is time to go. Hornet reaches the vent she first entered from and pulls herself through once more. Back the way she came, then.
no subject
That his restraint may only be due to his own mistakes in the past hardly matters. Hornet's own mistakes are the only reason she acts with such caution now. There's empathy there, as well. She knows what it's like to desperately seek a seemingly impossible solution, and the actions one might take in that desperation.
"I would be thankful for any further guidance you can grant me, scholar. Your assistance will see this leg of my journey finished much sooner than I would have dared to hope. If there's any task I can accomplish for you along the way, simply name it."
There are a thousand other subjects she wants to ask him about right now. The nature of the barrier surrounding them, the details of his construction, the nature of his illness, the history of the iterators, the minutiae of the Wheel of karma, the story of his deceased kin, why this place suffers such regular deluges of rain—and each of those questions would spawn a thousand more, she's sure.
But the mention of Eight Spools Bound curbs her curiosity. She came here with a specific purpose in mind and she shouldn't delay it without good cause. She'll find the Weavers, give them the news, and learn what she can from them and their host. Then she can come back to speak to Five Pebbles again.
Save for one little detail that she can't afford to lead unaddressed.
"There is one more thing I wish to ask you before I depart. You told me that the citizens who once resided upon you were able to escape from karma after they 'burrowed deep into the earth'. Do you know what it is they found?"
no subject
A task that she can accomplish...
"To your first question: if you find anything that might aid in an iterator's repair from a state of severe damage, I would request that you bring it back to me so I can inspect it and see if it will aid a...colleague of mine. She has suffered greatly for my mistakes. I would like to ease her pain as reparation, if that is at all possible."
He is not too proud to admit he has made mistakes. An apology will do the both of them no good, but at the very least he can try to make up for it.
"And to your second: it was a phenomenon called 'Void Fluid' that they found. They drilled through the wreckage of civilizations beyond count to the depths below, and found something that would grant them the ascension they sought.
That is the old way, of course. To simply descend until you could submerge yourself. Later generations created great networks of pipes and filtration systems, to purify it and bring it to the surface, so they might bathe in it and leave this world behind forever...
Well. Most of them did so. But the scavengers...they are irritating creatures crawling all over my structure to strip it of metal, perhaps you saw a few on your way here. They have a mark--" and here he superimposes, on the wall of the chamber, a symbol scrawled in white paint on some distant wall, "--and it dictates a certain oddity, a ripple in the world, that my overseers have failed to produce coherent data of. They do not break down, but whatever is there, they cannot see it.
If you see one of those, perhaps by seeking out what it marks you will find better understanding of the answer to your question. I have my suspicions about what they might be, but I have never been able to confirm it for myself, since moving from here is, of course, beyond my power."
Nor has he ever really wanted to move. It's not like they make portable cans, iterators weren't built to just roam about. It might amuse some of his compatriots, though...perhaps it wouldn't have gotten to this state if they were able to be more...portable.
It's a thought he dismisses.
"Will that be all?"
All this and he still hasn't given his name.
no subject
Hearing the phrase 'Void Fluid' utterly fails to surprise her. The terminology might be slightly different, but what else could the iterators' creators have found that would ensure their 'escape' from this world? Not even the news that something seemingly went wrong with this method elicits anything more than understanding in her. Again, what else should she expect when she hears that simple bugs have tampered with her kin's domain? Truly, the only shocking thing is that Pebbles Describes this complication as a mere 'ripple'. She would have thought it would be closer to 'disaster'.
The story as a whole, however, does send a thread of uneasiness winding through her. This Wheel that Five Pebbles claimed his creators were bound to... how torturous was it that those ancient bugs saw casting themselves into the Void as preferable?
More questions she doesn't have the time to ask. It's clear to her now that, despite his vast stores of knowledge, Five Pebbles immobile nature has denied him an understanding of many parts of the world. And oh, she has her own opinions about his creators' decision to anchor him to one spot, but right now it's time to get moving.
Save for one more small detail she still needs to resolve.
"Just another small thing. Should I meet this distressed colleague of yours, or another of your kind, I would like to be able to tell them who aided me upon my arrival here.
"What is your name?"
no subject
But those days are long past. He doubts the creatures that scrabble for life in his shadow, make their simple homes atop his shell, are even aware he exists.
"I am known as Five Pebbles. My kind usually has names that vary in length from two to five words, parts of mantras or pieces of culture that once meant a great deal to our citizens.
Now, of course..." He shrugs. "They are simply our names."
A pause. It seems at first that he has no more to say, his halo retracting and then expanding outward as the room fills with power once more, levitating the pearls around him and sending Hornet rising gently upward.
"It has been a very long time since I talked to anyone, much less a stranger who can actually respond to me.
It has been an interesting experience. As petitioners go, you are by far not the least of them."
That's almost something like a thank you...?
no subject
"Five Pebbles," she repeats. "Perhaps one day I can learn the history of your eponym."
But as she says: one day. Right now it's time to go. She offers no protests when that soul-like power begins circulating through the room once more. She's expecting the weightlessness that comes with it, this time, and she's able to angle herself to rise towards the ceiling with more grace than she descended from it.
She's not expecting Five Pebbles to speak again. She looks down, her head tilted just so as she considers his words. Hornet has spent more of her life alone than not. She's always been keenly aware of the steady grind of isolation. That awareness has only grown now that there are friends and neighbors—even family, when she lets herself hope—that she wishes to see again. Five Pebbles's parting words may not actually contain the phrase 'thank you', but Hornet hears it ringing clear.
"Likewise, it's rare that I meet any bug willing to converse in my travels, let alone one as knowledgeable as yourself. I look forward to whatever communications we may be able to exchange through your overseers."
There. Five Pebbles didn't quite say 'thank you', and Hornet didn't quite say 'you're welcome'. But with that exchange not quite made, it really is time to go. Hornet reaches the vent she first entered from and pulls herself through once more. Back the way she came, then.