The Dream-Whales of Samudra

bobs his head, tilting it from side to side with a noncommittal expression. “It’s more complicated than that, but that’s a good starting point, yeah. The world is based on consensus reality, which has to be carefully maintained. There are things that are dangerous to think about, which live in the depths - you may hear people speak of them, when they absolutely must speak of them, as ‘Uninvited Guests’ or ‘Polite Visitors’ - but even those things are typically only thought of as dangerous because of the thoughts and feelings they inspire. Fear. Anger. Hatred. Despair. These are feelings that must be kept in check and handled with care on Samudra.”

sits up, propped up with one arm, and looks down into the sea below.

notices it, and peels back the rug a little bit more to look, to see. She wants to meet its gaze, to know, to understand.

: “…Uh.”

: “How… Huh.”

focuses on…something, suddenly, and there’s just the briefest hitch in his breath, the slightest flutter in the harmony…and then his voice thrums out in full voice, tinged with awe and wonder.

takes it and focuses his mind on Caion, his touch, the sound of his voice, the feeling he gets when they Circle together. “Shall we?”

: “So… just to put us all on the same page, there is. No way in hell the rest of you are ALSO seeing a giant paper-mache dragon, right?”

looks over to Caion and Archie, a question on her tongue that dies immediately, and then she shakes her head at Aurelius.

vents a tiny bit of steam, remembering Archie’s warnings. They remember the sun.

: “Nah buddy, that’s… that’s just you.” He isn’t looking up as he says this, and then begins to chuckle.

: “Yeah, thought so.”

matches it, then drops down, taking the low harmony to Caion’s tenor.

laughs a little. “Just a Polite Visitor who wanted to welcome me home. I’ll tell you about them later.”

walks forward enough that when the waves come they lift her feet off the ground, and set her back down. The movement draws her forward, and with each ebb and flow she takes a step back to maintain her position. Part of her–most of her–wants to swim forward, out into the water, to see how far she can get before her arms get tired, before her body aches and the waves overwhelm her. But she is trying to be practical, so she keeps herself in place and then she tries to send a thought out, into the ocean, to the creature she saw and couldn’t speak to.

thinks of lotus flowers in still ponds–not like this, but it’s the best she can manage. She imagines their delicate petals, their subtle, earthy scents, their rattling seedpods after they’ve bloomed and died. And beneath the water, the hefty ugly stems anchoring them and keeping them afloat. She knows, or was told, this is a world without anchors, but all beautiful things need ugly, practical roots. Each song needs its unglamorous period of composition. She doesn’t know if the creature she saw was like her–the useful machinery keeping afloat something fragile and lovely, but the creature was like her in one other way. I too am a visitor, she tries to cast out into the sea, though perhaps not a polite one.

looks at them and reaches out a tentative finger into their orbit, to see if they’ll brush up against her or avoid her touch.

: “Hello,” she murmurs quietly.

: “Did I disturb you?”

: “Twelve voices, all of them lovely, but there are thirteen of you,” she says, keeping her own voice soft and careful.

nods to Caion eagerly. “Please. Was our hypothesis confirmed?”

nods. “To clarify, the 1300 years presents the length of Almachadta’s current cycle, which aligns with our understanding of the age of Samudra. But if all five worlds separated at the same time, and Almachadta has had over 200 cycles, it may stand to reason that Samudra is somehow un- and re-made too. If the noöplankton survive this process, it may be that other things do, too.”

closes her eyes. “The noöplankton and also your … at least one of your Polite Visitors is also about as old.”

opens her eyes and meets Aurelius’ gaze, because it’s easier to meet his unimpressed look than anyone else’s. “I went swimming. I saw–when we saw the Visitor on the Glass Ship, I saw something beautiful, but strange. Beautiful and strange. And so I went swimming and I cast out a line of gnosis to greet it, to tell it that I was a visitor too, and I felt, in reply … many things, but something as ancient as the sea itself.”

looks pensive. “We’ve always been taught to avoid the Polite Visitors, that they tend to incite thought-storms in those who focus on them too intently. Could it be because they tell people about Samudra’s own cycle, whatever form it may take? It seems like a plausible enough theory to be worth investigating.”

: “There’s … one more thing. After I sent that message out, I received … well, a vision, there is no other word for it, but after that some noöplankton came with a message.”

: “And I’m going to be selfish and keep the message for myself, at least for now, but there were thirteen of them. Twelve spoke. And they were even coherent, in their own way. They said it was from It, which Swims Below. And they were really concerned about the ontology of fish, but I think that’s a separate matter.”

: “Thirteen, one silent…” His tone is tinged with just a hint of wonder. “Do you think? Truly…?”

: “It’s hard to not at least make the connection. Twelve constellations, and one missing. Well, missing there, but not here.” He looks up at the skylights.

inhales slowly, exhales. “At first, I saw something fearful. Something of my world.” He smiles, just a tinge of that wonder in his expression again. “And then I saw something else. What I assume it truly looks like, behind the terrible seeming.”

: “Yes, but it was also very distinctly menacing and attempting to make me feel pangs of loneliness and regret, as Archie mentioned.”

: “For clarity … I didn’t see anything like what belongs on Almachadta. I saw a giant eye, and shifting iridescent streamers, and I met its gaze. I don’t know if that’s what they look like or not but. Was that like yours, Wolf?”

: “Yes?” With the air of a man who knows he’s answering a question of great weight, but a weight he cannot currently measure.

: “Correct.”

: “Yes…?” Somewhere between amused and bemused.

: “Hmm.” He clearly a moment to think of what it looked like to start, gives a little shiver, then shrugs it off. “Yes, that seems correct.”

’s mouth twists into something wry and humorless for a moment, but then the expression is gone. “But you’ve always wanted to know? What they really looked like?”

• You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: What Swims Below?

looks absolutely bewildered for about a verse and a half and then begins to burst into laughter, but has the presence of mind to cover his mouth with both hands and sleeves to avoid being overly disrruptive.

leans back in his seat, toe tapping…but he can’t not glance at Caion, a narrow-eyed and thoughtful look coming over his face as he listens.

’s mood gets brighter and cheerier (and it was already so), and he’s got a foot tappin’ and his open hand clappin’ on the table to the beat!

has to admit the beat makes her want to clap along, but she keeps herself still and also looks at Caion. Expression neutral enough but if you know her enough to read her, and most of you do, you can tell she wants to argue but is holding her tongue.

applauds as the song finishes–it really was an excellent performance–but his eyes are darkly thoughtful the whole time.

meets Caion’s gaze and gives him a similarly baffled expression. “I’ve spent so long focusing on the music of other cultures that I forgot the particular trends among contemporary music. But it seems… spirited?” He tries not to laugh, but seeing Caion’s own repressed laughter makes him fail spectacularly, thankfully masked among the conversations of the refectory.

: “D…does… does one of them play a Jug - I. I can’t.”

: “It’s great! Ohh, it made me want to dance!”

grins at Aurelius. “Really quite a lovely performance, I think. Enthusiastic and skilled, the preferred combination.”

: “Ah it’s great. It’s great. But it’s so… Goddess I can’t even.”

leans his head down against the table, waving a hand in defeat.

looks over to Synthesis. “Was this one you knew already?”

: “What is a Polite Visitor, and why is it the closest approximation to pure Song?”

nods. And then, because she wants to be clear, she says, “anything I told you is yours to share with Scholar-Professor Xie.”

: “Yes. I barely knew Caion then. We were on the Glass Ship, going to Ripple’s Rest. I only found out much later that what I saw was the same thing.”

: “Well…” His eyes look about the room, and settle on Caion. “Terrifying or frightening? Not really, no.”

: “I mean it was awe-inspiring, perhaps.”

: “Like, I’m sure there’s some mathemeticians about that if you ask them to really think about infinity, they’d glaze over and have to be in a bubble.”

: “You see… maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s the free-association we all have with the concepts. But the Polite Visitors are dangerous because they build off of, and reinforce, and amplify, their witnesses’ fears and terror, yes?”

: “The way the Samudrans have created to combat this phenomenon is to invert the terror, to have it defanged and disarmed, absurdity and comedy replacing tragedy.”

: “If I were to hold a lecture on this very technique, I’d name it something like…”

: “ ‘The Silliness and Song.’ “

: “We recognize a song for a song due to either long standing examinations of music theory, or a feeling of ‘yeah that sounds good.’”

: “But the Song, capital-S… if a Song could Sing, what form would it take?”

: “Does a Song know Stillness whatsoever?”

: “Or would a Song seek out Stillness? Grasp upon its most vulnerable, weakest parts… and amplify them?”

: “Because it is a Song, it sings to what it is, and it is deciding to become that terror.”

: “And then, at some point, the Samudrans said- no! I will no longer hand you my terror. I shall form you into a cross-eyed toad, or wiggly-eyed maw eel, or any other number of clownfish apperati.”

: “This is a theory based off of observation of Samudran practices.”

: “They give something form- the form is Stillness. That something, is wildly creative, incredibly powerful, and possibly limitless.”

: “Do they wish for that? Or is it their nature?”

: “Does a Song have a wish?”

: “What if it’s neither?”

nods to Salme. “It could be neither!”

: “What if … when confronted with infinite, limitless possibility, it is easier to see a horror you know than one you don’t?”

: “And why, in 99.999-repeating percent circumstances, has it always had the effect of terror on those who view it?”

takes a breath. “I could be wrong. I’m probably wrong. But … there is comfort in there being a chicken from a chicken egg. There is comfort in knowing we’ll die at the end of a long life. There is comfort in knowing there is a song and it has rules and tones, and rhythm. If you must confront the fact that anything is in fact possible, then you have to confront any number of things. Most truths you know are immediately obliterated.”

nods at Xie. “Yes. That was. What I was thinking.”

: “And when I did call out to it, and when I did hear the Visitor,” she glances at Xie and gives a small shrug, “I heard sound. So much noise. Something that could be construed as music if you’re avant-garde enough, but never written as such. If Sininen is right about the Song, then that makes sense–they are the Song unscored, unwriteable.”

: “Unscored, unwritable… that is a much better way of putting it.”

pauses. Slowly turns his head. “Did you steal a sun?”

: “I mean, yeah, I just. Hadn’t thought I’d done anything weird or anything.” He looks over at Caion. “Oh yeah, sun’s inside.”

: “I didn’t steal it, it’s still there, it’s just also here.”

: “Okay but the question of ‘why’ still remains.”

: “Going to catch a Polite Visitor.”

: “He’s putting together a team, you see,” she adds.

: “…That’s cheating, but I’m not going to stop you.”

: “Right. Want to help?” He grins.

: “Feels like the sort of thing you might wanna turn into a supervised group activity so as to not, uh, completely set off our hosts, at least.”

frowns at Aurelius. “This seems like the kind of thing you’d normally be all over.”

: “Yeah, what’s with this ‘cheating’ talk?”

: “Oh no I’m just trying to work out the logistics of trapping sunlight in a lantern -“

: “Okay so me and Wolf we kind of talking about this earlier, about how having to overcome the fear and the terror or whatever is probably supposed to be some kind of trial -“

: “- And you’re just gunna skip past that part with the Sun that Loves!”

: “Though I must reiterate I am not opposed. But. It’s definitely cheating.” He grins at Awoken.

: “Okay, well, as thorough as the writings were regarding the Visitors, getting into their minds about the why’s is really hard! And we may not be here much longer, so… sometimes you make a kinder, gentler path and think that it’ll work out. Think of it like… a poultice.”

: “Suffering isn’t a virtue. A card game has rules. Life really… doesn’t.”

flicks some nothing at Salme. “I mean… on Samudra being able to bear suffering kind of is…? We kinda figured they might be like… guardians, or keepers of some terrible knowledge, kinda like the Mask?”

: “So specifically on Samudra, you’d have to be… a really specific kind of person to be able to take on that weight and not have it undo… uh, things in general?”

: “I wonder if that’s it,” she says, carefully. “About it being like the Mask in that particular way.” She stands.

: “There were 216 tallies in the shrine of the Sword-Saint. Assuming each cycle was as long as the ice-core here, that’s 1,400 years each, making Almachadta about 300,000 years old from its first sprouting to present moment. However, I know the current cycle of Almachadta is longer than most. That’s how I was so certain it was near its end. Accounting for that, I wonder if the exact count of years is closer to 250,000?”

starts to pace, not fast or irritated, but slow, intentional. “I wonder if it’s the same type of truth in a way. People have told the Mask’s secret before. It’s ended poorly. I don’t—remember the details, and it might be worth looking and seeing exactly how people reacted those times? It it’s anything like the Polite Visitors and what they inspire?”

: “Oh yeah, naw, that’s the assumption we’re all working on too, I think. Something else shattered an original, much fuller world into five separate fragments for… some reason… and then those five fragments have been slowing dying ever since then.”

: “Yeah. I can’t be sure but I don’t think they cause each other? I just … think we destabilize on the same schedule? Which, if I think about it, makes less sense in some ways, but.”

easily lets him go and then says, to the Awoken, “okay, so what is the plan with the lantern?”

: “Get one close and personal. Let the light shine in. And then, when the stars have aligned just so-“

: “A very specific application of Stillness.”

stands with feet planted slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, his coat billowing dramatically in the wind. He hunches forward slightly, the coral pole with the dark lantern hanging from the end braced over his shoulders with one hanging arm, the other arm hooked with its hand jutted into a pocket.

: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to perform experiments most riotous.”

: “I thank you all for attending, and promise a miracle, and hopefully will deliver more than just that. This I swear upon the new star in the sky-“ and he points to the floating crystal of Radiance.

: “Yeah, I would definitely place the odds of riots at above zero…”

: “Are you two sure you’re not trying to get Caion fired…?”

: “I don’t think they can fire Caion. I think he’s too necessary. So why not take advantage?” Rolls a shrug, in a very good imitation of Aurelius’ body language.

: “Well…” He straightens up, rocking back and forth on his heels. It’s almost eerie how fast he tone switches into mischevious. “So long as we get results, it’ll be fine, right?”

: “We’re fortunate to have the distraction. It almost makes the blockade unneccessary! Every little bit will help, though.”

: “So. Did you have a plan for calling one to the surface beyond a fishing pole and a prayer?”

looks up at crystal. “I can’t believe Luĉja caused that. And remembered.” She sounds a little emotional about it, but it’s unclear what’s making her emotional—Luĉja remembering, or Luĉja being a little chaotic.

focuses back in on the Awoken. “Oh. I’m sure he has an entire plan.”

kneels, setting down the pole-and-lantern, and stands back up. “Sure do.”

: “Just have a few last things to prepare.”

: “The texts regarding the Visitors have been most useful in generating ideas. But- a big enough spectacle, directed towards them, will suffice. And I’ve got a whopper of an idea for it.” He flashes a wild smile.

: “So, first… I’m not planning on just barreling into this without any safeguard.”

interlocks his fingers and stretches his palms out, knuckles cracking. He brings his arms back to his sides, hands balled into fists, and he takes a few deep breaths, saturating himself with the sea air. Tenebrous gnosis ebbs from each contour of his clothes, his face, his body, pulsing once… twice… and then picking up in frequency until it flickers rapidly over his form.

barks a sharp, short yell with intention and determination, clapping his hands together- banishing the pulse, coalescing it into his hands. Slowly, he parts his fingers, to reveal a small, dense orb of glowing Tenebrous energy, pulsing from purple, to black, and back.

• The Awoken has attained unto the techné Walk The Strange Paths (Find your way back to yourself with a twisting carpet of Tenebrous-tinged obsidian. Requires a Tenebrous Orb. Same-plane travel only!)

walks over to Salme, smiling gently as he holds the orb out to her.

looks at the orb, and looks at him, and smiles brightly, almost shining. “Thank you,” she says, and she tangles her hands with his and pulls him in for a heated, fairly intense kiss, before relenting, the tenebrous orb cradled firmly in her hands.

kisses back fiercely, with a free hand stroking the back of her head, fingers tracing along tied braids.

: “Hang onto it! I’m counting on you.”

walks backwards a few steps before turning, and goes to kneel at the lantern, unhooking from the end of the pole. He tests its weight as he holds it by the top ring with a tightly-gripped hand.

: “Now… Caion, if you will?”

closes his eyes and inhales with his chest and abdomen, fully accepting the light within himself. No fear.

pets the ball of tenebrous gnosis, much like it’s a cat, and frowns. “Does this plan involve jumping into a bottomless ocean and sinking?”

: “Seems like.”

: “… Ah.”

’s eyes open and quickly dart over to look at Salme, and… he winks, sticking out his tongue in a silly, ‘you got me’ formation.

’s grip on the gnosis-ball briefly goes a little less ‘tenderly petting a cat’ and more ‘desperately clinging to a fool.’

: “You could have one of us go with you if you must. Or.” Frowns at Caion. “Could we … Circle with him? While he does this? Or could I go … somehow, by sending a tether for flourishing? Would that break anything?”

: “Lack of fear is paramount. Equally thus, is intentionality. Such that I shall meet the Polite Visitors, and they will only know love.”

: “By all means, circle away… I doubt you’ll want to miss the experience!”

sits down with a yawn. “Oh were you not bringing it back up with you?”

: “Oh no… I intend on that too. But I figured you’d want to know about the details first-hand, without being there first-hand.”

relents her grip on the tenebrous orb, and then sits down next to Aurelius, pressing herself up against him, his warmth and solidity. “I want to be there if I can, though I know I also need to be here.”

looks at Caion a little helplessly. “I can’t sing,” she says, flatly.

: “Anyone can hum.”

stares at Caion’s hand, and then examines the knotwork, and then she nods. She nestles the tenebrous orb in her lap, and then quickly, swiftly, weaves a matching, complimentary knotwork into what Caion’s showed her. Flourishing, of course, flourishing that maybe bends a bit toward teal than earthy green.

reaches out and fistbumps, while humming the same note Caion was earlier.

reaches out with his free hand, and begins to hum as he makes contact, holding the note to share in the gnosis.

tilts his head to one side, then the other… then sits up and stretches both hands out in front of himself, before twisting one hand and forming a square with his thumbs and index fingers. Hold it, moves it a bit to the right. Returns to directly in front, then a bit up and left; return to center, then a bit down and left. Scrunches up his face, then shrugs and drops his hands.

: “(What are you doing, Aurelius?)” she says, having gone back to slowly petting her purring ball of gnosis.

: “Default picture-in-picture layout on that is kind of ass, was adjusting the monitors.”

: “You will succeed and you will come back,” she calls to Awoken.

nods to Caion, looks to Salme and Aurelius, and nods to them as well.

: “That’s the power of making your own truth.”

suddenly whips around, and starts with a few running steps- he hops up onto the edge of the bridge’s guardrail, deeply crouching with his bounding momentum, and launches himself up, off, and over– hugging the lantern to himself with his other arm now, speeding out as far as he could, and then down, down, down so much quicker.

keeps her breath slow, slow, slow and steady. She feels the slightly ridged coral underneath her, Aurelius’ warmth beside her, the purring of the gnosis-ball in her lap, Caion, there, next to her, the strings and threads of the weaving that bind them—pellucid, so pellucid, almost like wire, thick and strong, but also the furred root-strings of flourishing, and the tenebrous taproot that is Awoken, and she can see-feel him, impossible, boundary-slipping, beautiful and she holds him in her head but also holds the reality of where she sits, rooted in place, and she is both places at once believing, loving, hoping.

: “Aury, if you’re done with whatever you’re doing, would you put your arm around my waist?” she asks. “Or a hand on my shoulder. Either works.”

clears his throat, very gently.

slips behind Salme, wrapping both arms around her waist and resting his chin on one of her shoulders. “Really no reason to be worried. Also hello, Wolf.”

: “Awa decided it was his turn to blow Caion’s mind.”

leans back into Aurelius. “I’m not worried, kulta. I’m doing what I can to not be worried.”

’s mind forces his body to adjust. The sea is cold, and he accepts the cold. The sea is salty, and it does not brine him. He opens his eyes, and stares down- and it will not blind him. Infinity has a limit, and this world is so much smaller than that. There is possibility to its edges, and possibility swimming in the depths. That is what he seeks.

: “…Kulta. That’s clever. How long did you spend finding that?”

leans against one of the railings of the bridge, chuckles softly, and hums a tone a third below Caion’s, slipping into the link easily–much like he did with Silver-Throat.

cracks an eye at Wolf, gives him a twitch of a smile. “Hello Wolf.”

waves two fingers, jauntily, giving her a bit of an arch smile before he closes his eyes and focuses on the link, and the Awoken’s experience.

adds him to the weave in her mind. A thread of flourishing, of course, but the node on a rhizome more than a root. A string strung on a harp, smooth and flexible and resonant.

briefly reaches one hand up, pointing at something directly in front of him before dragging it, hm, far down and to the left, then returns it to Salme’s waist.

isn’t satisfied with that. You see me, you feel me, but that isn’t enough. He kicks his legs out, swimming further down, where the clouded light struggles to shine. I want to know you. I want you to know me. I want you to know us. I want to reach out to you, and be reached by you. Know me. Need me. Find me, and swim beside me.

doesn’t lose his tone, doesn’t falter, but there’s definitely an awed edge to his humming now.

chuckles quietly to himself.

rotates toward it, lowering his forehead towards the entity, not unlike if he were going to forehead bonk it. It may be too far away. It may be closer than he thinks. He’s listening, listening for it’s Song. No matter how it sounds.

keeps her breathing slowly and steady but notes the 19 eyes. Notes too the green tinge. Notes also the reflection of the seed. Beautiful, beautiful, two beautiful, impossible things.

moves a hand to one of the lantern’s latches. Slowly, he slides one of the plates aside. We wish to know you. And then a second, and a third. Swim towards what you fear the most.

Paying attention with all eyes, yet? I hope so. We want to learn. We want to share. We want to exist, harmoniously.

slides the top switch of the lantern down, and all the plates shift into the lantern at once.

We fear no Song. Our Stillness is warm. Our virtues are true and sincere, under the hood of possible annihilation. Yet still, we love. So… will you teach us?

…Hah. It can’t help but be a little silly.

Teach us the hearts of the deep ones.

sends a pulse of gnosis through the tenebrous sphere, through to him, and then hopefully to the Dream-Whale—invitation, an open hand, a question that expects no answer but that wishes for one. A thread for the Awoken to spin out if he so wishes, but does not have to.

shivers, from head to toe, his tone wobbling–not much, not enough to threaten the link, but his throat-catch awe rolls through the Circle like a wave. He adds a thread of his own, a gentle tendril of…delight.

reaches out, to touch the Song… how would this one go? Its melody is already chaos- he decides to add a beat underneath, and… there’s still a pattern to those odd notes, one he can… sort of follow, if he thinks hard enough… the strings of Song move on its own, but his skilled fingers reach out, curling within each hooked quivering note, guiding its pattern to a long, bassy echo. It rises and falls, a reverberating bubble never breaking the surface.

: “Can Awa hear us over this, by the by?”

can’t help it–his own hum tries to find the counterpoint to weave in around those arpeggios–and, perhaps unintentionally, he tugs the link into closer alignment with that Song, and its singers.

adds a few more notes, on the high end. One, two-three-four… in a chord, five-six-seven… shifting down to eight-nine-ten… eleven… twelve in all? The harmonies weave through the tangled thoughts, a contexual measure to the endlessly possible mind.

: “Y’forgot the most important part when greeting a new friend, y’know?” Aurelius leans forward a bit, looking directly at the sprouting seed within the Dream-Whale’s central eye, and a moment later voices seems to (but not quite) seems to project itself from the Awoken and to the Dream-Whale, in a strangely monotone sing-song: “Hello!“

laughs

: “Can we … is it possible to invite them into the Circle with us?” she’s asking Caion, and also Awoken, and maybe Wolf and maybe Aurelius.

looks at Caion, his hum-tone briefly going quizzical.

reaches out a hand giving his own thumbs up, and then tilts it towards the tendril. He hums with his heart, a pulse echoing through the water, displacing the microbes and waving the kelp.

: “It might not matter but you could try telling them that it’s going to be different this time.”

Still trying to find your own words? That’s okay. We trust you. We still love you. Your being, your pain, your fear, could not hurt us. Bravery and care, in equal measure.

thinks, but also…speaks?…from somewhere within himself: Let the Other be what it always was, and should have always been–the constant companion, the source of delight in all their differences…

presses her lips together, and even more determinedly adds: How many times was it not different? For me, it was 216. But it is going to be different this time.

to that thought she adds her own love. For Wolf, pure and admiring and clarion-clear. For Caion, like finding another self in the strangest place. For Aurelius like unearthing something you never knew what you were missing. For Awoken, for it is Awoken, centered in her lap, purring, purring, purring, trust. Absolute. Unflinching. He could never be otherwise but to love. Myself, and you, and all the worlds in their infinite possibilities. Please. Please. He is there, reaching for you. Reach back.

slowly pulls his arm back. Somehow… I know we’ll meet again. Tell your friends about us! Tell them that it’s going to be okay this time.

brings his hand up to his forehead, giving a slow, lazy, two-fingered salute… before the same hand balls into a fist, punching downward, and in the liquid entirety surrounding him, it connects with something.

, when she felt the Awoken feel Caion’s light fade from his lungs, began breathing even more slowly and deeply.

catches onto it with his gripped fist and propels up, up, up, with dizzying speed but ultimate control- the road is easy to stand on, packed by the thousands that walked before. Enough to bring himself to a stand, both feet planted, holding the lantern by the ring and unable to lose grip to the force generated by the displaced, surrounding sea, fully unbothered by the velocity of creation.

stares down at the Awoken as he returns, and, helpfully, offers: “No, that was basically what I thought it was gunna do.”

can’t NOT laugh, in surprise and no small amount of delight, as the Awoken drops directly into Salme’s lap.

immediately has her hands on him, in his hair and on his shoulders, even as she’s suddenly very damp with a very saltwaterlogged bluejay.

is limbs all akimbo, torso draped across her- and also part of Aurelius too, since they’re sitting next to each other. The lantern sets onto the ground with a satisfying clunk as he lowers his arm, but otherwise doesn’t work to disentangle himself.

lets his hum trail off into a jaunty little tune–something like “da-da-da dahhh dah da-dah-da”–and lets his part of the link drop.

blinks at Wolf, then tilts her head back to blink at Aurelius, and then focuses on her soggy beloved. “Well done,” she says, a bit of a laugh in her voice.

coughs once and starts laughing at Wolf’s melody.

: “Yeah… didn’t catch ‘em, but I got a good feeling!”

: “You laid the groundwork. Or. Built upon the groundwork that had already been laid, I think. Though. What do you all think of the decidedly … flourishing … look our Dream-Whale was wearing?”

: “I thiiiiiiiiiink…” There’s a wet, slapping sound as he taps a hand on the bridge. “… that it is flourishing in a directly poetic way!”

: “You think it’s experiencing a period of personal growth?”

: “It came dressed to impress…?”

laughs.

laughs quietly, facepalming gently. “Ahh, it certainly is us.”

: “Oh. Did Wolf?” She turns to look at him.

tilts his head towards Caion. “Could you not see the Seed in its main eye?”

nods, and sputters as some damp hair falls into his mouth. “That seed is sprouting well, I know you all saw it.”

: “The Seed. In its eye.”

: “Did you not see it, Caion? The reflection of a seed, sprouting?”

: “Ohhhhhhhhhhh Wolfy, what’d you doooooooooooooo…?” he sing-songly calls.

looks almost indignant. “I haven’t done anything! The only thing I can possibly think of having done was creating a seeming for a nooplankton!”

: “For what it’s worth, you aren’t missing much. Know baby plants? They look about the same.”

: “But it carries cosmological importance, so… it’s a wash!”

: “I didn’t put a shining crystal in the sky, I did not make a strange tablet that turns our bodies to alabaster while our minds go in and talk, I did not make a lantern that contained the Loving Sun and use it to try and hook an Ancient One like an eel, I did not commune with the being that gives almost everyone else fits of terror on our first day here!” His voice is about a half octave higher than usual, and he’s not…particularly ranting TO anyone, but it is…a little rant-y.

: “I did that before we got here,” A lazy correct, made without enough force to stop the ongoing sentence.

: “Why is it that just because it had a seed in its eye that Caion cannot see that everyone looks at ME?” He makes something suspiciously like a yowl. “You stay out of this!”

: “You seemed with a nooplankton?! Scandal!! Controversy!!” He’s saying this while still being uselessly and damply supine across laps.

: “Hey Caion definitely don’t think about what he just said okay? Okay.” Tone somewhere between amusement and bewilerment.

trails off, realizes that he’s panting a little and that his hair is starting to fly free around his face, and visibly contains himself, slicking his hair back with both hands. “Hrrr. I’m…I apologize.”

glances down and notices immediately, but casually slides his eyes up and away–not bringing attention to them. His eyes go heavy, however, and he lets a little bit of himself quest downwards, quietly.

, against his better judgment but thinking of Salme and Caion’s experiences with the Pleasant Visitors, reaches out a momentary thought to acknowledge the presence of the greenish presences and try to learn something of them.

tries to catch Archie’s eye, flickering his fingers to suggest a weave of gnosis which might be helpful.

looks up from looking down, and looks over at Archie and nods, before looking back into the depths.

blinks at feeling Archie’s gesture, and at the resulting gesture, and sends her own roolet of burning gnosis expressing joy, happiness, excitement, hello, hello, hello.

sits cross-legged and cross-armed, straight back, feeling as though he’s being wheeled about by a chariot drawn by multiple entities, on top of the world.

keeps half an eye on Archie and Salme, not offering his own input, just…minding.

rumbles a soothing note at Silver-Throat–trust me, fear not.

have, for the moment, taken the form of truly gargantuan froglike entities, swimming elegantly through the water- they’re VERY very close to the surface, right now, responding to an unspoken summons. They are a lush and vibrant green, and nestled in each of their bellies is an entire swirling galaxy of gnosis; they’re each wearing a pair of tiny, round glasses perched delicately on their frog noses, and academic mortarboards on their heads, with rainbow tassels.

• You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: Dream-Whales

: “Ah… ahahahah…”

: “I. What?” Aurelius blinks twice, then begin laughing.

me slaps his hands on his knees in joy and begins to cackle riotously.

: “Ahahahahahaha!! Yes!! Yessssss!!!!”

’s throat catches on…something, warning or aid, that he was going to say to Silver-Throat…and then he starts laughing, helplessly, bracing himself with a hand on the wall of the Glass Ship.

: “Welcome to the surface, friends!”

tries not to laugh, but. It’s just. “So. So stupid.” And then she loses it, falling back on the rug, laughing.

: “Are they…are they shielding us from themselves?” Wolf’s laughter is clearly inflected by a deep wonder.

: “It’s the best form I could ever imagine for them!”

raises his voice carefully, sliding in between the instruments and voices of Aunt Silver-Throat and the group, adding harmonies of joy and welcome.

puts a hand to his face, how many were there again? One, two, three…?

glances over at Awa, shaking his head.

looks over to Aurelius, nodding enthusastically. “Yeah! Yeah! It worked, Aury!”

, from where she is literally rolling around on the ground, laughing, asks, “wait. Is this. Did you somehow come up with this form, Awa?” At least she wheezes something like it, between giggles.

: “Lil’ bit, yeah! Big thanks to them for agreeing and playing along, too!”

: “Who better to teach another than a professor?”

puts his other hand over his face.

stares at Awoken in surprise. “What did you do? When did you..?”

looks up at them with a joyful smile. “Teach, you say? I would like to learn what they have to share.”

: “Thusly, the crowned and resplendent, Professor Frog!”

looks to Wolf with a conspiritorial grin. “Back when I was doing my dive. There was intention and purpose behind the notes I sung. I’ll share the memory and annotate it when I get a minute, if that’d be okay!”

makes an amused “be my guest” gesture.

sits back up, enough she can wave back. “Did you sing a special … frog song?”

: “You remember the joke with Professor Frog is that they were... just a frog... right...“

: “A…frog song?” For some reason, that sets Wolf off into gales of laughter again.

: “I mean, kind of sort of! If you sing a frog and sing of the twelve principles you get, well…”

looks to Aurelius, and his mouth curls up at the edges, his eyes half-lidded in humor.

murmurs, to herself. “Frogs. The thirteenth principle.”

: “The principle of Frog!” He’s not having much luck controlling himself.

chuckles at that one, continuing to look up at the Dream-Whales with a sense of warm curiosity.

: “Though wouldn’t, on Samudra at least, they be referred to Scholar-Professors Frog?”

starts and stops several different sentences in Awoken’s direction, but doesn’t manage to get anything else out.

starts laughing again at Aurelius’ speechlessness.

flinches, for a moment, but the advice they’ve received from Archie and Caion holds steady and they know that this is not what is. “You…are not this. For surely birds of the air do not live under the sea. You are not violence. I am told you are fear. But this…I do not fear. It saddens me, and I will always fight against those who would strike down the defenseless. You…are something else.”

: “No. Nor are you her. You could not know of her. I have lived this once. The worst day of my life. But the worst does not scare me, strange one. It drives me to make the future better for those who will come after. You are not violence. You are not misery. Are you fear, or are you a warning, like me?”