Appointments: Enlightenment
The second of three appointments. A change in tone, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it. Original here.
Minor FOIP warning for extrapolated speculative mindset.
* * *
Nowhere, everywhere. Requests, commands. Requisition, relocation.
A shift
And there are fields, golden ears of the harvest wafting in complement to the breeze. Aside, the orchard's trees bear aloft their crystalline fruit with pride. A path, meandering just so. It leads to a small cottage, an attendant plume of smoke breaking the curve of the hills beyond.
The acolyte looks up, upon the eidolon's approach. She sees a carefully distorted reflection; narrow, hairless features over an androgynous frame, nondescript robes. A shimmering sigil. She smiles, genuinely, and returns to tending the garden.
"Come in! Do come in, brother."
It does.
"Exarch."
The figure steps out from the kitchen, wringing a towel absently through its hands. It smiles, amiably, bolts of silver flickering as they dance through its veined flesh.
"The tea's brewing. Finest you'll find... well, anywhere, brother. Any idea how long it takes to learn the secrets of cultivating Kamakuran Mist?"
A smile in return, obligingly. "I'd imagine the process is instantaneous, Exarch."
He turns, smirking as he places the cloth to one side. "You have me there, brother. Now. What are you here to see me about?"
No hesitation.
"The New Utopia affair has been concluded. Theographical assays indicate a disruption in the Ascending Comet concept-engine, however; its assertion is increasing, likely in the wake of the mass release."
The Exarch settles into his chair, brow curmudgeoned in thought.
"Hrm. I'll have the Logians undergo a revision. Need to emphasise the dissolution at the point of ascension, yes." His brows perk up playfully. "Can't have the willing dead clamoring for vengeance, can we, brother?"
"Of course not, Exarch."
"Hum. Anything else?"
"There's a generalised reduction in dogmatic cohesion, Exarch. The Jezerim are refuting the concept-engines, preventing novel initiation. The wayward essences seem to be having a disruptive effect, observed most in Eternal Shore and Inner Sky."
A reassuring grimace. "No need to worry about that, brother. A few touches and Reaching Night will take up the slack, I'm sure."
Silence.
He sighs. "Out with it, brother."
"The Exarch of Empowerment intends to orchestrate an insurgence within the Republic. The response will likely annihilate much of Reaching Night's diffuse infrastructure, Exarch."
He growls, a sound deeper and more primal than his corporae seems capable of.
"Once a slave of the slaughteress, always a slave to the slaughter. The fool's never happy unless he's taking something apart." His hand flashes upward, a sweep of violence. Drops. Settles. A tentative grin slithers across his features once again. "So, brother. What are we going to do about it?"
"Given two thousand essences and ideological revision clearance in the area I could ensure the core survives, Exarch. Cohesion drops have caused geomantic disturbances; they could be harvested from the plants without notice. The engine may generate negative sentiments against the Exarch of Empowerment, however. Purging these would take upward of two centuries."
The grin broadens. "Do it. Who knows? Could be useful, one of these days."
"By your will, Exarch."
The aether gathers.
"You won't be staying for a cup then? Mrm, thought as much. Good day, brother."
"By your leave, Exarch."
A moment's thought.
Another
And the world moves on.
Minor FOIP warning for extrapolated speculative mindset.
* * *
Nowhere, everywhere. Requests, commands. Requisition, relocation.
A shift
And there are fields, golden ears of the harvest wafting in complement to the breeze. Aside, the orchard's trees bear aloft their crystalline fruit with pride. A path, meandering just so. It leads to a small cottage, an attendant plume of smoke breaking the curve of the hills beyond.
The acolyte looks up, upon the eidolon's approach. She sees a carefully distorted reflection; narrow, hairless features over an androgynous frame, nondescript robes. A shimmering sigil. She smiles, genuinely, and returns to tending the garden.
"Come in! Do come in, brother."
It does.
"Exarch."
The figure steps out from the kitchen, wringing a towel absently through its hands. It smiles, amiably, bolts of silver flickering as they dance through its veined flesh.
"The tea's brewing. Finest you'll find... well, anywhere, brother. Any idea how long it takes to learn the secrets of cultivating Kamakuran Mist?"
A smile in return, obligingly. "I'd imagine the process is instantaneous, Exarch."
He turns, smirking as he places the cloth to one side. "You have me there, brother. Now. What are you here to see me about?"
No hesitation.
"The New Utopia affair has been concluded. Theographical assays indicate a disruption in the Ascending Comet concept-engine, however; its assertion is increasing, likely in the wake of the mass release."
The Exarch settles into his chair, brow curmudgeoned in thought.
"Hrm. I'll have the Logians undergo a revision. Need to emphasise the dissolution at the point of ascension, yes." His brows perk up playfully. "Can't have the willing dead clamoring for vengeance, can we, brother?"
"Of course not, Exarch."
"Hum. Anything else?"
"There's a generalised reduction in dogmatic cohesion, Exarch. The Jezerim are refuting the concept-engines, preventing novel initiation. The wayward essences seem to be having a disruptive effect, observed most in Eternal Shore and Inner Sky."
A reassuring grimace. "No need to worry about that, brother. A few touches and Reaching Night will take up the slack, I'm sure."
Silence.
He sighs. "Out with it, brother."
"The Exarch of Empowerment intends to orchestrate an insurgence within the Republic. The response will likely annihilate much of Reaching Night's diffuse infrastructure, Exarch."
He growls, a sound deeper and more primal than his corporae seems capable of.
"Once a slave of the slaughteress, always a slave to the slaughter. The fool's never happy unless he's taking something apart." His hand flashes upward, a sweep of violence. Drops. Settles. A tentative grin slithers across his features once again. "So, brother. What are we going to do about it?"
"Given two thousand essences and ideological revision clearance in the area I could ensure the core survives, Exarch. Cohesion drops have caused geomantic disturbances; they could be harvested from the plants without notice. The engine may generate negative sentiments against the Exarch of Empowerment, however. Purging these would take upward of two centuries."
The grin broadens. "Do it. Who knows? Could be useful, one of these days."
"By your will, Exarch."
The aether gathers.
"You won't be staying for a cup then? Mrm, thought as much. Good day, brother."
"By your leave, Exarch."
A moment's thought.
Another
And the world moves on.