Balmas

Breathless Dead

The King catches the first blow on her shield. Bringing it to bear is instinctual, bone deep, without thought, and it sends her ass over teakettle.

Idiot. Of course it does. The blows aren't nearly enough to meaningfully harm her, but anything that hits hard enough to knock her over will still knock her over if it's absorbed into the shield. And if she goes into that wall, it's over.

Crowd of people, and the idiot brings a sniper rifle. Use that. Force him to risk hitting--no. Unacceptable for them, and if worry of hurting the audience has slowed him down, she sure can't see it.

Six shots. One massive--OOF--hit, five smaller--oof oof oof--hits, rapid fire. Reload. Enough time to get up, but not enough to set herself, not enough to brace, block!

Not enough time. Unprepared, the bullet catches her shield at an angle, sends her spinning sideways, the ricochet digging a furrow into the arena.

Why did she leave the spear buried in the ring? Idiot!

Unless…

She's still spinning, sideways instead of down, though the next five shots to the shield fix that. But when the reload is up, she's ready.

No forwards progress, not yet. But she can use the kinetic energy, use it to shove her sideways. Angle the shield, so she vectors towards--

One iron-gripped fist lashes out, and closes around the spear, still buried point-first in the floor. The shaft bends and moans under the combined assault of statue and the follow-up shots, but holds, keeps her upright.

Never let them see you bleed. "You know," she calls out, "I'm starting to see why this crowd doesn't--"

Purple in the barrel. Wait for iiiiiit…

Six shots. Six acrobatic spins around the pole. But when next the twink reloads, she's still on her feet.

"Doesn't like you," she finishes, and dashes forward with a grin.

Watch for the purple glow. Wait for it. Bury the spear as deep as it goes, and anchor for the storm. Let the energy of the rifle whip you around the pole, and advance with the roar of the crowd.

He's not stupid. By the second reload, he's going for the spear. She scoops low, takes the energy and lets it flip her forward, spear and all. By the third, he's shooting the ground, and now she has debris to kick in his face, block his view.

"I'm not surprised you'd think she's just a dog. She was made that way! Did you never ask her whether she wanted to stay that way?"

She's inside the guard now, one hand on the barrel, one hand on the spear buried in the floor, and eyes inches from his.

"So how's about, instead of focusing on her not being safe, you give me what I need to keep her safe and happy?"

[6,5,4, +2. 13 on Overcome.]

Breathless Dead

The crowd roars, and the King subtly switches her stance. She was fully anticipating being the villain, the dark foe come to claim an unjust prize, but she can work with being a hero.

"I asked for the champion. Is it his day off? Is he hiding?"

All swagger, all smiles, all mocking. This is her arena, and you come before her like this?

"Because if you're him, wow! No wonder Cerberus is begging to come with me! I'm surprised half this crowd isn't packing into my ship! Hear that crowd?"

She pauses to let the roar rise and settle down.

"So no! I'm not here to steal your dog! After all, I can't steal what's being freely given!"

She pauses, as if struck by a thought. "Unless you're one of those space princesses. Amazing how hard they give themselves away and still want to be stolen."

"And since we both know she'll be happier with me, you'll help her go. Like a good owner would.

"But are you a good owner?"

She's not saying it now. Not in front of the crowd, not for their benefit. But behind her eyes, there's a hardness for Zagreus that says, it took a grand total of ten minutes for her to want to leave with me. It took ten minutes of listening to her talk. How long, Zagreus? How long has she been staring up with nobody to hear?

Breathless Dead

She can do this.

Just like she asked, it's dark and quiet in the tunnel. Or at least, darker and quieter. Not blinding, not pitch--the doorway at the end shines a long promise of what's to come, gives light to see by--but the halogens have been turned off. Not silent--there's no preventing the noise of the arena from filtering in--but at least the panels on the wall aren't screaming it directly in her ears. It's muffled, muted, the sounds of hundreds of people moving and jeering, of bassy music crawling through the floor, into her feet, and up her spine.

Enough, at least, to let her compose herself, to prepare, to put her face on.

Dimly, the announcer's ululations echo down the corridor--of a warrior king, traveling the cosmos, recruiting the best and brightest to her ranks, trailing honor and glory and prizes for all who follow her. Of a game for the ultimate prize.

Showtime.

It's like putting on clothes, in a way. She allows a grin to come to her face, and with each step towards the , the grin spreads until it's nearly ear to ear. She straightens, tall and elegant, a confident sway in her hips. See the cape sway, regal red, weighted. See the golden chains and studded circlet gleam.

The announcer's voice crescendoes with her name, only getting louder as it stretches out. She poses in the spotlights, and in a few swift steps, is on the central dais with the announcer.

Jeer at her, crowd. Chant her name, boo at her. She doesn't need your approval, see how she laughs, see how she waves at you for more? Bring on the disapproval. You can't hurt her, you can't take anything from her. She takes it in, and spits it back at you. She owns this ring, and you can have it back once she's done.

One gold arm--carved round with fresh silver inlays of thunderbolts and studded with fresh gemstones--snaps out and snags the microphone from the announcer's hand, and the Rex levels one finger at the crowd.

"Let me be clear! I'm not here for you!"

More jeers, more boos. She grins, and opens her arms wide as if to soak it in.

"That's right! One of your number is smarter than the average dog! She wants to leave! Wants to join my crew!

"And I care for my crew!"

With one smooth motion, she casts her cape off into the crowd and buries a spearpoint in the center of the ring.

"It is the duty of the king to care for their people! To see that they have ample opportunities to become all they can! To spread out! To risk! To grow! To bring their people joy!

"But I would not come as a thief in the night! The king does not steal away with a prize, but claims it through strength and skill! Who will gainsay the King and say that Cerberus will not be as safe by my side as anywhere in the galaxy? Who will prevent me from protecting her?

"Come! Send forth your champion! Show me your skill, that I may show mine!"

Breathless Dead

"Cerberus, to tell you the truth, I have not been the strongest in the galaxy for far longer than it took for me to admit it. "

She, the strongest warrior in the galaxy. She, the strongest, wrestled and ejected by two Coherent phalanx members. She, the strongest, outshone and outsped by two brilliant young lovers. A Ceronian princess, a dervish too dangerous to approach. The more she thinks on it, the more it brings a rueful smile to her face.

"Even among those we travel with, there are stronger than I. I cannot promise you the strongest, and will not begin this friendship on the back of a lie.

"What I can promise is that if someone is to harm you, it will be after going through me. It will be after I've exhausted all of my cunning and skill. I cannot promise the strongest fighter, but I can promise all of my strength. I can promise to use my knowledge to help any and all I travel with. So long as I am with you, you will not lack a protector."

Breathless Dead

"But that's not why you won't leave."

It's not a question. But it's also not unkind. Alexa keeps up the pets, and waits until Cerberus meets her eyes.

"You just asked to follow us across the Rift. Maybe you know something I don't about it, but I'm willing to bet that there are ELFs on the other side of there too. It would be just as dangerous to cross with us as it would to go anywhere else in the galaxy.

She's smiling now, and swings an arm as if to display all the galaxy, in all its majesty.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it's all out there, just waiting for you to come see it. I'm not a tour guide. I'm also not going to tell you it's not insanely dangerous. You're incredibly right about ELFs.

"But I saw how your face lit up as you described it all. I heard the excitement in your voice at the idea of finally, finally leaving this place. You've been here for centuries, contemplating the Rift.

"And it seems to me that if you don't want to do it for centuries more, well…"

She's trying so, so hard to be kind. But still, she lets the sentence dangle, lets its implications hang in the air. Safety or satisfaction, but the dog has to choose.

Breathless Dead

Alexa leans back, stares up at the Rift, and lets her fingers work the thoughts out.

"You are wrong about the land of the dead, you know."

It's hard to directly deny the dog. Hard to look into those eyes, and tell them that hope is still out there.

"You say it is ashes and ruins, that the gods have abandoned us. If I had nothing but the Rift to keep me company, it may be that I would share your opinion.

"But in the course of a year with this crew, I think I've seen enough to believe otherwise. I have seen worlds and wonders that made me question everything I knew. Things I hadn't even dreamt of, even before the galaxy was cut in two.

"I have seen the gods intimately involved with every member of this crew, for better or worse. They show on this side, just as surely as they do on the other. They care, just as surely as they care on the other side of the rift.

"And, perhaps most important to me, is that there are plenty of people I've come to care for on this side of the rift. It's not all ashes and ruin. There is wonder and life to be found here."

She considers again, words expended, before admitting, "Where, on this side of the rift, though. That's a harder question."

"After all, following is the close to the only thing I've ever known. Where Molech went, I followed. When he needed me to go into battle, I followed his orders. The only way I found to break free from him was to attach myself to someone else. Even here, at the end of everything, I followed someone else's dreams, someone else's plans."

"And now I'm off the guiderails. I'm so used to being penned in by what someone else wants me to be that the freedom to choose a heading is… Well, it's terrifying. I can go anywhere.

"Half the universe is open to me. Pick a heading, Alexa. Where, in half of all the galaxy's nigh-infinite wonders, do you go?

She shakes her head, chuckling ruefully.

"So if you've asked me where else you could go, I think I have to turn the question on you. Where else do you want to go? You have all the worlds to choose from. Is there no other world where you want to go? No other world with people you care for?"

Breathless Dead

Secondhand grief wraps one icy fist around her heart and squeezes the breath out of her.

She's failed, she knows. Teach me, Cerberus says. And she doesn't know how to help her learn. Let me follow you, and forget, she says. And Alexa can do nothing but remember. This hurts too much to bear. Make me forget them. Help me not hurt anymore.

And oh, if Alexa knew how not to hurt, what a world this would be.

What do you say to someone who, with all the earnestness and face of a puppy, has just asked you to help them die?

No. That's the wrong word. This isn't death. She has to hold to that, has to hold to the idea that after all of this, this isn't a goodbye forever. The Lethe will rinse her friends clean, but… they will come back.

She hopes.

But still… Something will emerge on the other side of that rift that looks like Cerberus, but shares nothing with her. No memories, no pain of abandonment, no love for the woman who wronged her.

And that feels an awful lot like death.

"That… isn't my decision to make."

Because it isn't. Just as it isn't hers to take, life isn't hers to force on someone else. If, a year ago, someone had told her there was a way to forget and had forbidden her entrance, she'd never have forgiven them.

But knowing what she knows now… Knowing what she became, what she can yet become…

"I don't know your heart, Cerberus. I don't know your story. I don't know why they left, and why you stayed. Would love to! Offer of listening ears still stands! I would like nothing more than to learn about you, become friends with you. If you decide to cross the rift, I will stand behind and respect your decision.

"But if you're asking to come specifically with me, you should know I'm not crossing the rift."

And from there, it all spills out. She can't sit here, and not tell her why. Can't not tell her why she understands wanting to not exist anymore. The stories tell about Molech, tell about her, but don't mention what it does to you. A year ago, she'd be sprinting towards that river. A year ago, she'd have signed up for this crew if she knew there was a chance to forget.

Talks about how it still hurts, some days. She still remembers. She was the Pallas, and no amount of forgetting will change that. But sometimes, she can fill herself with enough other things that… it hurts less. She can bear to be Alexa--can even enjoy it, most days! Can move on, and learn from the pain.

"I do think you're right to leave," she admits. "Being here… it seems like it's hurting you. It's that old collar, worn through, chafing. Whether it's through the Rift or with the rest of us, you need to kick that collar off. Things do get better, but only once you get away from the things hurting you, and give yourself a chance to heal."

Breathless Dead

It's wrong of her to want to fix this, but she does. If only she had the right words, surely she could do something about this. She could erase years of hurt, bring fond memories to the surface, have the dog smiling. It hurts to see someone love so hard and so long that it turns to loathing, to see the space that used to fit a person rub and chafe until all that's left is festering blisters.

But it's not her place. She doesn't know the full story and, more importantly, she's been asked not to.

"I've never been in your situation," she says, as if by feeling out the shape off the words she can shape out the feelings. "When I left my father, it was less abandonment and more deliberate escape.

"But even then, after I'd done my best to make sure I'd never see him again, I still built myself around him. I still shaped myself by what he wanted me to be, still craved the approval he'd never give me. And it wasn't until I was dragged into this that I could meet other people, and find other sources of love.

"It kind of sounds like you could keep talking to yourself. But I've been there, and it's lonely."

Breathless Dead

It's strange. All morning, she wandered this station, content to meet any new sights in perfect solitude. And only now, with tails slinking away, only one hound at her side, does she feel lonely.

She considers the dog. Listens to the voice. Raises one arm invitingly, as if for a hug.

"D'you... want to talk about them?"

Hurriedly, she adds, "You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I don't want to open old wounds. But..."

Well, she's heard that tone of voice before. She's used that tone of voice before. Remembering those who aren't around anymore, for one reason or another.

"Sometimes," she admits, "it's nice to remember people the way they were. There are friends that... Well, that I don't know what happened to them. Lost track of them. Got reassigned. Disappeared. I know some of them must have survived, because I've met their children, but all I have of them is memories and stories. So...

"Would you tell me their story?"

Breathless Dead

Alexa wanders from Cerberus to Cerberus, meeting each of their eyes in turn. Civilization after civilization ends in their eyes, and it dawns on her that she doesn't recognize most of them. A hundred guttering candleflames, a thousand bygone styles, all remembered here and nowhere else.

Humanity seeded the cosmos. Their hands touch every planet, their servitors litter every continent.

How many times over, she wonders? How many empires? How long since humanity fled Gaia for safer waters?

And yet…

"I don't think you're right," she says, finally.

She continues to stare at each set of demises in turn, each set of canine eyes, but now with purpose. Searching.

"Or. Hmm.

"You're right that everything ends here. Civilizations end. Empires are overthrown. Even the greatest buildings end in decay and ruin. Nothing lasts, remember that you will die, and so on. Hades collects the bounties, and the universe moves on.

"But that doesn't make it its purpose.

"An artist writes a symphony. They die, and in time, all manuscripts decay and are lost. None recall their work but the dead. Was it written to decorate Hades' realm, or is that simply the end result?

"A couple love each other. They share their time, make memories. Travel. Build families, touch lives. In time, one and then both die. Was their love nothing more than a monument for Hades?

"Yes, things end. We all end up here, in the afterlife. Hades collects his due of all. And maybe you're even right of empires and kingships and power.

"But small scale? On the personal level? That doesn't rob the things we do of their meaning. There's worth in building, even if it falls. There's value in loving, even if the relationship ends. There's joy in living, even when we die."