Thryllasian Region, Parfuhmerie-Psytronius Link, The Floating City-State of Psytronius, Comms Capital Another ping. Alexandra Marconi's Soul dove through the wires, the weaves, coming to rest in the monitors. Lost some other satellite in some allied state or some other — seemed quite a few had been going down, recently. Rumors abounded, of course, that it was something or someone, but they had already sold and sent out their replacements to be fired into space anytime between in a minute to a few days, so it wasn't really the Psytrines' concern. Not yet, at least. If they were downed again, that'd be more cause for concern since most notable space events wouldn't just hit twice, but for now, it'd be just fine.
She queued up another satellite order for Archedama to produce; moments later, he affirmed it, sent it, and that was that. Back at her base, she felt Jeremy's chilled hand touch one of her terminals, and she hurried back.
"Good day, Jeremy."
"Could you tell Zurv and Maxwell to fight with less vigor?" Jeremy said, glancing down at his tablet. "Johan has been complaining about the noise."
"Understood." She flew through the wires again, through crystal-weaves mixed with only the best copper from their sci-fi allies; distant, muffled conversations found their ways through the thick walls, Domeses and guests and Foreigners alike browsing, wandering. They had teleportation devices, of course, but there was time enough to walk around and enjoy the sandstone-yellow halls, bristling with guard Golems and panels where weaponry would poke out from in desperate times, times that have never come in the five centuries of the floating city-state's life, but it was better to be prepared.
Even in her semi-physical form, she could still feel a rumble worming its way through the walls, heard some manner of boyish yell. She was close.
"For the glory—"
"Shut up!"
Krboom!
Now that was a bad sign. She surged through the wires now, melting into existence in a crackle of electricity inside of the sparring halls, now ripped in half by a gorge of exploding fireworks and lava, one side dominated by a raging inferno and the other by eight white wings converged around someone, something.
"My dear apprentices," Alexandra said, "might you please calm down your battle?"
The wings unfurled, exposing the godly white apparel of Maxwell, held up by his lower two wings. "Heavens no!"
"Like he—"
Now, the wings curled in, then blasted outwards, sending barrages of white and lodging them all across the floor, the walls, bouncing up into the roof, into the flames, a few towards Alexandra who faded away, another array towards Zurv who burned it all in a whip-blaze. Moments later, the feathers burst into blasts of shining white Faith-foam, and Alexandra threw her head upwards, and out came a salvo of radio waves. That was enough; six of the wings spasmed, curled up, and shrank away into Maxwell's back, while Zurv fell to the floor, his magma-hair petrifying.
"Dang it, Alexandra..." The Xeros lobbed his hand towards her, sending a fizzling firework towards her that extinguished and fell to the floor long before it could get close.
Alexandra stared down at where it had fallen, letting a beat past before she raised her head to the two boys. "As I was saying, Johan was requesting that you two fight less severely. You have been disturbing him."
"Sorry, miss," Maxwell said, stumbling back to his feet. "It's just Zurv—"
"As I said, I would be getting the lava cakes later, after Johan was done so we could bring them home to the others nice and ho—"
"I wanted them to eat during—"
A floe of lava erupted beneath Zurv, launching him upwards and melting his hair into a volcanic eruption. "Shut up, you stupid—"
Another pulse of radio, and both boys stumbled where they stood, with Zurv's hair calming down into a pool of lava. "Please remain calm," she ordered, her own wire-hairs flying in the wind as regular pulses of disruptive radio waves pulsed out from her. "As I said, we shouldn't be so loud."
Both boys nodded rapidly, and Alexnadra's wire-hairs fell back down. "If the temperature of the lava cakes is the issue," she said, sliding towards them, "I can have Sousundowa prepare containers, although why—"
"Max called me a thermos."
"I..." The Angel's wings twitched, and he covered himself with his wings. "Okay, maybe I did, but Pallas and Anthos do too."
"At least they aren't jerks about it— you're always like 'hey, thermos, can you keep my
bocadillo de calamares hot?' and that's all you say to me!" He thrashed his head downwards, and a wheel of lava spewed forth. For a moment, it spun in place.
And, as Alexandra lifted her head, the wheel soared on the floor, letting loose a shower of burning orange and ripping sandstone panels away as molten chunks flew away into the air. On the other side, Maxwell flapped once, twice, and the wheel sped past him. He half-sworder, turning his weapon into something of a coached Lance, and soared towards his opponent. Behind him, the spinning lava-wheel spun in place, and a barrage of fireworks fired out.
"Halt."
Alexandra's wires burst out from her head and spiraled in front of and behind Maxwell. His shatter of steel upon it merely tapped it forward, while behind him, the lava wheel scorched the other end of the spiral. "Was I not clear?" Now, the spiral swirled in and converged, and Maxwell yelped as the cold rubber insulation wrapped him into a cocoon and left him wriggling on the ground, his wings flapping pointlessly. Meanwhile the wires at the base of the curve split in two, creating a second spiral that whipped towards Zurv.
"Gwah!" An explosion of lava erupted from his head and the magma inside of him seared orange, but it did nothing to the spiral that wrapped around him moments later.
Both were now in Alexandra's wires, and she reeled them in like wriggling, shouting fish behind her. For a few seconds of dry amusement, she watched them flop up and down. One moment, she felt the feathery elysium of Maxwell's wings. The next, it was Zurv gurgling as a stream of lava spewed from his mouth, while molten rock poured through the slips of the wires.
How annoying. Floating speakers slipped out from the bindings, snaked their way next to both boys, and bellowed out a sonorous cry, dazing them as stars spun round and round their heads.
"You boys..." she muttered, linking one leg towards the Capital's wires. Once it connected, she sent part of herself through it, towards the auditorium, where she could hear the conversation between the boyish, but high-pitched voice of Johan, and the swift pace of Hanna's, mixed in with a few strums of the strings on her squid-like hood — the Hadal version of hair.
"So then... yeah, yeah..."
"You two." Alexandra reached towards the wires. "Hold on tight."
"Hold—"
Before Zurv could finish, she dove through the wires, emerging seconds later next to an auditorium chair, where she set her rolled-up Apprentices. She turned to the stage, but glanced back when she heard Zurv's volcanic gurgling. Again; she forgot that he got motion sickness easily. This time, though, he was erupting it off to the side, letting it flow towards her legs. She'd need to get Hallveig to clean that up...
"Oh, Ms. Alexandra!" It was Johan, waving from atop the stage. "I know time is up, and all, and that we'll be going to the Shirnijing base soon, but do you think we could stay for a bit longer? Anthos took Raven and Alice away to the gardens." Behind him, Hanna had her hood pulled across the lap, her fingers absently plucking away at it, with two discarded violins and viola next to her. "Oh, Ms. Alexandra," Johan said, leaning precariously on one foot to look behind her, "is Zurv okay—"
"Motion sickness is all."
A twirl of his mace-staff and a steel bucket appeared nearby as the boy spun and landed on his other foot. "Still? I thought he'd be getting better."
"The... earth moves naught!" Zurv thrashed in his bindings, and the wires puffed outwards as a radiant orange grew at his chest, as he coughed out a few bubbles of lava. A second passed, and the bubbles turned to a waterfall, then a deluge that drenched his wire prison. It still did little, and the others simply watched, waiting for him to finally pause his tantrum.
Johan gestured to his bucket, and Alexandra nodded. So, he set it down, flicked his fingers, and a blindfolded laborer manifested from the bucket; the man wordlessly stepped towards the lava, bucket in hand, cast a spell to siphon it all in a second, and vanished into nothing.
"That bucket must have seen a lot."
"It has, yeah. We've had it since last year, I think..." He picked it up and stared at it, his eyes gleaming with analytical spells. "Yeah, last year. Hallveig used it a few times in front of me, and that was enough to make the memory. Just wish we could get a way for Zurv to, you know..."
Hanna leaned back on her chair. "I think it's just that Alexandra sucks at transporting him."
"Pardon?" the Domeses's eye gleamed red.
"Come on, miss, I said what I said. It happened when Li'orz drove him in Shwe."
"Oh, that—"
A blast of lava knocked him to the floor, and Hanna strummed the strings on her hood. A barrage of notes flew towards Zurv; Alexandra watched as they sealed his mouth with a bouquet of stony roses, their petals burning bright orange, as though feeding on the lava within him.
"All right, that should keep him nice and settled," Hanna said. "Anyway, Anthos and the rest should be here... soon."
The Domeses shrugged and watched as the Apprentice strummed her guitar-hood a few times, sending out a wave of notes to Johan. "There's no big hurry yet... although, that does remind me, where is Seikilos? She was teaching you two, wasn't she?"
"She left fast." Hanna flashed an awkward smile. "Guess she had somewhere to be today."
"Very well, then." A glance at Zurv, squirming away in his chair. "I entrust that you'll take care of these three?"
Johan, the clothes on his back still steaming hot, bounded close to her, then awkwardly bounced a step away, almost tripping on his staff-mace. If Hanna noticed, she said and did nothing, perhaps still considering if she could manage to take care of the two boys that had moments before been trying to kill each other. Whatever the case, when Johan set his staff on the ground, she turned, their eyes locked, they nodded, and she looked back, invigorated by whatever spark ignited between the two of them.
"Johan and I will definitely be able to handle them," she said.
Alexandra nodded, slipped into the wires, and left for the Comms Capital.
Thryllasian Region, Parfuhmerie-Psytronius Link, The Floating City-State of Psytronius, Comms Capital, Later in the Comms CapitalPing.
Another satellite? Only, this one had the echoing
ding, ding, ding of a Psytine one going down — and that, of course, was cause for concern enough. A few taps later...
A newcomer had registered. Something or someone had broken into World Machine, just above Shirnijing.
Just above Huang-Penglai.
"Atmosphere Squadron, Domeses of Introduction," she said, "please be prepared to move out. We have detected a novel Foreign signature." Distantly, she could detect Stribog's winds, the booming of storms on the horizon, the ominous whirring of Becquerel. Then, Hermes-Hina.
"We're preparing to teleport," he said. "Could you inform the Monarchs to get ready?"
"Understood." A beat passed. "Sent." Another pause. "All Xian and Adventurers in the city have been notified, and are waiting in the city in the event of further trouble. Please prepare the Domeses for transport."
From the other end, she heard a sound of fabric tearing, the same roaring winds and storms, and then silence. From another link, she heard Jeremy. "Atmosphere and Introduction are both present in the Shirnijing, on the peak-branches, approximately five-hundred miles from the ship, estimated gap-close to be no more than a few seconds if trouble arises. Introduction are being transported by shielded nullification-type platform, slowly ascending as to not cause trouble. Estimated time of arrival, a few minutes." A pause; he was being messaged. "We have furthermore received reports that Eglantyne and Calvin should be ready in the event of disaster. The Monarchs are beginning to grow their tree with an approximate medium power usage, and they say that they may need help to overgrow their tree to protect the city, if this newcomer is hostile. I have already relayed it."
"Understood." She manifested from her wires and stared at the screens in front of her. "Sending standard greeting."
- Code: Select all
This is a test radio message. Please respond to this signal with an affirmative message if it can be received.
If it failed or she received no response, she would try sending her message via a series of encoded lasers nearby the starship — lasers that were clearly too weak to inflict any sort of damage, but were magically enhanced to be visible to the starship's Foreigner signature, a signature that of course revealed little other than "unknown," but it was good enough for the purposes of aiming it.
Meanwhile, the Atmosphere Squadron waited at Huang-Penglai's tree, which stretched to a mile above the ground. Aside from a few branches, its crown had clustered most of the leaves around the trunk's column, a clear attempt to limit how much it covered the sunlight of the land below. Some sort of unwalled gazebo, carved out of the tree itself, sprawled out among the branches, and four enormous railways walled by the tree's wood ran up the sides and into the gazebo like some sort of bizarre xylem. One train, if that bizarre mass of convulsing wood crawling upward could be called such, was already running, its back laden with assorted cargo.
But now, it began to grow. In mere seconds, the edges of the enormous branches perhaps miles wide split into twos, threes, fours, dozens, each producing a great array of leaves that shimmered in the sun like metal. Vast swathes of the city underneath were beginning to be covered by the canopy; the Penglairean version of a city-sized shield, it seemed. The roots closer to the ground, meanwhile, did not seem to be growing at all.
Huang-Penglai Yuki sighed as she threw away her empty bramble-cup into the trash can. Of all the times someone had to break into World Machine, it had to be the day she planned with her friends: go to the movies to see a new film from that Friglan director, then to the mall, maybe hitchhike a run with the Adventurers back down to Four Saints if she had the time...
She glanced at the crystal in her robe's breast pocket, sending a message to her friends, and grabbed the edges of her cloak to then pull it in, shrouding herself in the realm of the dead and bygone. When she unraveled her cloak, she then found herself in front of her father, with his long, flowing robes and his mirror spinning and levitating just above his hand. Whether lost in thought or asleep while standing, he stayed silent as his daughter appeared in front of him.
Then, the mirror landed in his hands, and he opened his eyes, looking up. "Haven't had this sort of drama in ages, have we? Usually they land outside of a city, not just above." He rotated it in his hands, and a book, its cover decorated by a pair of fox tails, shined inside of it. "The other Xian are already moving into their positions."
Yuki reached inside of her cloak and took out her own book, decorated with a black, bleeding heart. "And what will we be doing?"
"We're one of the few with enough range to directly hit them reliably." He tossed his mirror into the air, where it spun, then paused, and began to dump out an iridescent mist. "I was finishing the last steps of a ritual when you came in."
She looked down. Cursed into the floor was darkened, rotting wood interspersed by sigils and characters carved in the blue of overflowing plant cells bulging with mana-infused water.
"Soon, soon," her father said, "or, I hope not."