System:▓▝▝▝ OMICRON PSI ▓ ▓ ▓ Location: - tt-rr-321561--▝▁ ▁ ▁ ▁▝ 9-1, NORTH POLE TEMPLE
▁ ▁ ▁ ▁ - lb - 88 - 14 - 7C - 04 - ▁ ▁ ▁ ▁
The Gardener had made a habit of visiting her in this place. It served as a storage for the doll, her vessel with human appearance. It also served as a gallery for her artworks and muses. A place for her to express that "acausal will" that she had wanted. Delicate spirals and geometric patterns laced most of the area, broken only by a few statues of that one Liberty Rogue in marble and limestone. "Like those Terran statues of Lucifer", he thought to himself. Contrasting this, the Gardener walked down the hall in his body, a bulky, armored war-machine made of Nomad flesh and pulsing energy. He was silent, as he'd engineered a sound dampening effect for his feet. She knew he was approaching anyway.
He'd reached the main hall in this sterile, white temple, and there she was, lounging sideways across a marble throne. Her extremely long white hair floated weightlessly alongside the large cut of silver cloth she was half dressed, half entangled with, as if she was underwater. He was beginning to suspect white was her favorite color. Her lips and nails were bright crimson, no doubt some symbolic vestige of the Fruit of Eden. He waited for the same grand reveal he'd seen countless times before. They had a pattern going. She'd wait to see if he would leave on his own. Then...
Her head cocked towards him with a lovely bitter attitude, and his favorite pair of electric blue eyes glared through his soul. A soft, delicate voice laced with displeasure filled the air. "What do you want?"
"Ah,yourmajesty,Igotlone-" With a flick of her finger and a loud whack, an invisible slice split the air and perfectly detached his left arm. Her gaze of pure apathy didn't shift. Neither did his deranged grin. "I'vecometoaskyoutoleavethematteroftheVagrantstome."
"Are you capable of offering a single reason for this that would not disgust me?"
"Well,clearly,I,yourfavor-" With a snap and a clatter, his right arm fell. He chuckled at the pun he was about to make. "Hah,itappearsI'vebeendisarmed."
As she wove energy into matter to create a thin spike, her expression finally did shift. With a frustrated pout, she accelerated the spike to 3/4ths the speed of light, piercing his chest with a blue-purple streak. "It appears that, in fact, you are not capable."
"No,no,Ijustwantedyoutostresstheextentofyournewfoundemotionalintelligence.Understandingatoolfullyisnecessaryforanytool,butespeciallysoforatoolofyourownconscious." He waited in silence a moment. After not receiving another punishment, he continued: "IhaveaplaninplacetoensureyoursmoothdescentuponPygar.ItrevolvesaroundaViper'sden,someophidianidolaters,andadisclaimingapprentice.Inordertofullyaccountforthepossibleoutcomes,IneedtheallowancetoantagonizetheVagrantsintoaction."
"Your half-truths and obscuring-names annoy me. You, as with the rest of the Ghostmind, may do as you so please. Why do you even ask me for permission?"
"Oh,Ijustlovethesoundofyourvo-" Before he finished his sentence, that body was dead. Three spikes, delivered to his remaining neural cores, it seemed. Nonetheless, he'd kept up his end of the agreement they came to after three months of mutual imprisonment. He had informed her of his intents that involved her. No surprises to be had, yet. He quickly checked his other bodies. One in the Kaarst Drydock, one on the Battleship Fenrir, and one in the Wayfarer. He'd have to make his moves soon, to keep pace with all these indelicate fanatics.
No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need any.
The Silver Lake Behind the Clouds was a graveyard. It held only two gravestones.
In his own mind, The Gardener wasn't the armored combat-walker that he used in reality. Instead, with his head bowed to the graves before him, stood the muscle-bound, herculean man he was before. His form was overlaid with a Nomad equivalent, which bled through in mottled patches that appeared, disappeared, came together, and separated fluidly. His new self was an oil on the surface of the water that was his old self. He wore only baggy white pants held to his waist with a long red ribbon that fluttered in the wind like his golden-blonde mane of hair.
The water in this place was barely ankle deep. What else would you expect from a lake atop the clouds? The water was almost as cold as the wind, as well, but it was of little matter to him. The silence was serene. The tiny waves all across the water caused by the wind left a pattern for him to watch. It was peaceful. So peaceful that he heard the tiny splash behind him. Such a gentle touchdown, she must have landed on her toes. The Gardener chanced a glance downwards into the lake's reflection.
How could he fault her? The water was cold, after all. "What,areyoubecomingusedtothedollbody?" "You tend to listen more intently when I present in a form you attribute beauty to." "Holdgazestoholdattention?Howcoquette." "I'm beautiful either way. Quite a shame the same cannot be said for you."
"So?" "Sowhat?" "You talk so much that you've chosen to base the entirety of your psychic action on speech. Surely you have something to say about this frigid landscape."
Losing patience, she made two short hops across the water's surface, and came to perch on his left shoulder. Nearly weightless, maybe the same as a dove. Wet toes dug into his trapezius with inhuman strength. He didn't flinch. "Go on. You have my curiosity. Make the best of it." "Whatademandingwomanyou'vegrowntobe." "Your punishment for deceiving me." "Ah,yousimplygotwhatyouwishedfor.Youshouldhavebeenmorespecific.But,allthislakeisisaproofofmythesis.Makingsomethingbeautifulwillbethedeathofme,soIsimplymustmakesomethingworthdyingfor." "Ah, the ever-impressive art of not answering my inquiry with as many words as is possible." "Ididanswer.PutthatintuitiveemotionIfetchedforyoutouse."
Silence passed between them. He never quite knew what she was thinking, but he had a pretty good guess.
With this, she gently hopped off his shoulder, barely touching the ground as she hopped back towards the edge of the cloud. Glass shattered in front of her, opening a hole into a deep hallway lined with sharp purple crystals. "Oh,andSh'ozak..." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. What a sight for sore eyes. Skin like alabaster, hair like fine silver threads. A painting given flesh. An angel in eggshell-white. "...you'rejustasbeautifultoday."
He couldn't tell which was colder: the water, her voice, or her gaze. "Oh, I know I am."
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