I glance about, hoping for Tiago or Harriet, or even Keeley to be present in this particular segment of refugees. Thankfully, I’m in luck. Harriet is kneeling next to a refugee, whispering comforts, and Daffodil is ambling about, bringing water to others with her single arm. I’ve got to hand it to Daffodil, she’s a tough old lady, to recover from losing a limb, and still be someone who shows kindness, generosity, empathy, in such a short time. Tiago is of course tending to the wounded that he can, mixing poultices, applying them, and whatnot.
Tiktik, Teuila, and myself approach the trio of harefolk that are arriving, as I try to signal Harriet telekinetically. I levitate a stick to draw an arrow in the mud beneath her feet, and I can feel Harriet turn in our direction with my silent sonar senses. With any luck, Harriet will take over any sort of negotiations that need to happen. I know how shrewd and discerning she can be.
The lead hare, the one I recognize, despite his new glow, calls out, “My condolences. I’m surprised an attack hadn’t happened sooner, but we weren’t sure what to expect, and you didn’t seem to understand our warnings. My heartfelt apologies that we couldn’t prevent this.”
My expression is grim as I process what the hare is saying. The warnings were exactly as I’d surmised. They play the parts of the spirits of the swamp, trying to frighten away travelers, to prevent their demise at the fangs of the hydra. I allow myself a sad sigh as I close my eyes to reality for a moment. There are parts of me that want to berate him, to accuse him of having been able to help earlier, and to use violence to get concessions for the safety of the refugees. I think that that part of me is one that I can drown out easily enough. He’s showing compassion.
The hare introduces himself, “I’m Bucky, these are Dale, and Chip. We would be honored if we could speak to your leaders, as well as your warriors. We are but a few of the Rangers, and we have heard the request of one small sorcerer.”
My brain fritzes out with a massive blue screen of death. I have to prevent myself from rattling my skull, so that it doesn’t look like I’m refusing the offer to speak. It’s a massive concerted effort to refrain from shaking my head to dislodge the confusing thoughts created by the blue screen of death. Bucky? A hare? Chip, and Dale? Why do these trigger flashes of some emotion? Wait, right, so he did hear me. Does that mean his Rangers are coming to the rescue?
I can’t help the sly smirk that spreads across the left side of my face. Somehow, somehow I know, things are going to work out alright for the Aasimovians. I let myself sigh with relief as I nod gratefully towards Bucky, who flashes a quick wink my way. Did I just blush in response to the two meter tall rabbit’s wink? Huh. Well, full circle right there is what that is. The single semi-dumbfounded huh.
Tiktik leans against Teuila’s right side, and I lean against her left, allowing myself a contented sigh, and misty eyes. Between Tiktik, Bucky and his Rangers, and Helena and Reggie, the refugees should be able to survive the swamps. Harriet approaches, and looms over the three of us, slightly behind Teuila’s right side. I think it’s a bit of a power play, showing that she can stand at our backs, and we don’t flinch, as if we perhaps answer to her.
Harriet speaks, “I was known as her honorable mairess Du Pon De Brook. As of the destruction of The Brook, I’d be honored if you would simply call me Harriet.”
With that statement, a wave of tension that I hadn’t realized had been building up across everyone in the area dissipates. There are sighs of relief, and the un-tensing of muscles from nearly everyone present, or within earshot. Bucky flashes a winning grin as he approaches us, and offers a hand towards Harriet, who reaches over us to clasp it firmly.
As introductions give way to discussions, my brain reels from the rollercoaster of emotions, and high intensity use it has been strained under since my last rest. I need to remember that any amount of time I spend in paused thinkspace, is time that my brain was awake and unrested. I’m lucky to have not gone insane from the lack of sleep, from the times I’ve spent in that paused thinkspace. Or have you already gone insane Reggie, and just not realized it? Not funny Reggie, not funny.
Teuila’s telepathic avatar snorts a laugh before mumbling, “Only you Airhead, only you.”
Tiktik’s avatar joins in, shaking her head incredulously as she fights laughter to add, “Tiger, I think you’re immune to going crazy, because it’s just your natural state, hehe.”
Pft, great, the two people who know my mental state the most have shown me such great votes of confidence. I can’t help chuckling, despite my sarcastic line of thought. I barely catch some of the exchanged dialog, such as Harriet’s, “Three thousand, from The Brook alone, not counting…”
While I’ve got a fair brain for numbers, logistics, and plans, I don’t have much energy for politicking, and diplomacy. I’ll leave that to those better suited than me. Bucky mentions something about extra work, and the number of hydra dens that makes my skin crawl. I take it that they’ll be needing to expand their series of dugouts and dens to handle such a massive influx of refugees, even as a temporary measure, moving groups from one to the next as the next one frees up whenever one group can move on.
Teuila must be channeling Can’Z’aasian inventory magic, because her skin is beginning to glow, and crack slightly. I’m so very worried that I corrupted her with our final combined mass spell on Can’Z’aas, to slow the advance of the Mite-Hulk hoard. She isn’t a changeling fae though, so she’s not in the same risk category that I am, but I can still see the pain that exerting the power puts her through. After about eight minutes of channeling, a load of wealth and supplies appears, displacing air with a bit of a loud pop that nearly knocks me over, despite having expected it.
Teuila offers, “Hopefully this can help smooth things over, and help you guys get going, when you get started.”
Bucky’s interest is piqued, and he raises an eyebrow, but quickly returns to a more placid-though-friendly face to continue his discussion. Harriet, who normally has an excellent poker face, and actually plays poker enough to shark people out of money, has the slightest gleam in her eyes as she eyes the wealth surreptitiously. Teuila and I have no real concept of the value of wealth. We understand math, and vaguely understand economics, but to us, we can literally freely generate wealth in massive quantities, by doing what we would do anyway, or well, we could.
Right now to generate wealth, it would take meeting up with Luni, and making use of the shop stall that I’d had her claim into her inventory. We’d abuse the systems of magic that let us create things from virtually nothing. Our main source would be Teuila’s Valkyrie equipment, by way of her evolving up and down her evolutionary line, since her Valkyrie form always has its full suit of equipment whenever she assumes it. Selling that equipment to the digital shop would generate wealth in her inventory, and if we could remember the catalogue for Luni’s shop, we could also probably purchase goods from it, other than just apples, but even infinite apples is a miraculous commodity. Or Teuila could then summon the wealth from her inventory after generating it with evolution shenanigans. Still, it would mean seeing Teuila suffer pain for eight minutes at a time, repeatedly, frequently, which I don’t want her to be subject to, but the option is there, which makes wealth feel mostly meaningless to us.
I mean, hell, if Teuila were going to go that far, we could outfit a lot of people with Valkyrie equipment, but I wouldn’t trust there being so many copies of Gae Buidhe out there. It’s too dangerous of a weapon. A small knick that never stops bleeding might be something you can live with, but one that’s a bit deeper could be disastrous. I catch Teuila looking saddened at my line of thought, and I immediately feel guilty.
Rushing into thinkspace, I try to explain to Teuila, but she cuts me off saying, “I know, I know you’re not mad at me for the spear. I was listening in, and I got where you were coming from. It’s okay Air, babe, really. I’m not so insecure that you can’t think about a danger that includes me without needing to apologize. It’s okay. Really. You’re the best for being so worried about my feelings though. Really, the best. How would Lil put it? Mega mega mega best?”
At the mention of Lil, my best buddy that I haven’t seen in so long, the waterworks start once again, and the tears flow freely from my mental avatar in our shared mindscape. I don’t know what my relationship with Lil will be when we finally reunite, how they will have changed and grown over the months, how they will feel about me, or anything. Teuila’s avatar wraps her arms around mine, and pulls my avatar’s head to her shoulder to let mine cry, as she coos comfortingly, apologetically. Both of us have certain sets of emotions on hair triggers right now, like any mention of Dawn would probably—. Dangit. We both start bawling our eyes out, sobbing in thinkspace.
Dawn, we only knew you for such a short period, but it was our entire lives on Rayileklia essentially. You were quirky, sneaky, funny, sometimes grumpy or a bit aloof, but eventually as close as a friend could be. It hurts so much that you’re gone Dawn. The way we lost you is unbearable. The fact that we almost had our memories of you stripped away from us is a torture all its own. Knowing that we could have been denied even the opportunity to grieve you is so utterly frightening.
Tiktik’s avatar offers, “You guys don’t talk about her much. The friend you lost before me. I guess I haven’t known you as long, but it sounds like by the end, she really loved you guys, and, I do too. You’re great, both of you. Big Tee, Tiger, I don’t want to replace her, but I don’t want to be forgotten either. I’m scared I won’t see you guys again, and even though I wasn’t ready for it, I’m scared I’ll never make it home, with everything that’s happening. I—.”
Tiktik’s avatar sniffles, and rubs a stream of tears out of her eyes as she tries to continue, “I want you guys to know how great you made me feel, for letting me be a part of this. I don’t want to give it up, and I want to see you again at the end of all this, when you guys finish saving the world. So, you gotta win, okay? Win, and come back for me, and then take me home, and I’ll introduce you to the woman I adore, who thinks of me like a sister, Littlebit. I’ll kinda need your support. I don’t want to face that hurt, that rejection again, without you guys there. I want to be who she wants me to be to her. I don’t want her to see me be hurt. I just want to give her the kind of love she wants, and needs, instead of the kind I want.”
The three of us devolve into a pile of cuddling and blubbering in thinkspace, while trying to maintain our stoic stances in meatspace, to present ourselves as Harriet’s dauntless warriors. Maintaining the facade is exhausting, when we’re grieving and processing so many hurts, on so many levels, with so many fears muddying the waters of already difficult emotions. Eventually though, several other elders arrive to speak with Bucky and his rangers, and the mess of individuals who can actually speak for the refugees entreats to sit somewhere with the harefolk, leaving us warriors free to fend for ourselves.
Just like Tiktik wants us to be there for her when she finally returns home, some day long in the future when all of these messes are finally wrapped up, because she doesn’t have the heart to accidentally hurt Littlebit by showing Littlebit how hurt she is, I don’t have the heart to say goodbye to Tiago, Harriet, or even Keeley and Marshal. I’m struggling to decide whether or not I can even face the kobolds to say goodbye, but thankfully, Teuila wants to talk to them on her own once more. I grip her tightly, as reassuringly as I can, and kiss her with all the passion I can muster before she seeks out the kobolds to say her goodbyes to them.
Tiktik and I find ourselves alone in the mini recovery tent that had been set up for her to nurse her injuries. She eyes me with a longing that’s almost a hunger, a yearning to share all the time we will be missing each other between now and when next we meet. If I could give her accelerated thinkspace, and share a minor lifetime with her, I would. With my brain as fatigued as it is, I can’t even manage to craft a thirty minute hypothetical accelerated thinkspace to share with her as an electrokinetic projection. Instead, we embrace, and share a single, short, passionate kiss, before cuddling.
Tiktik murmurs, “Thank you, Tiger,” before nuzzling her face into my chest, as I shrink my armor and set it into a pouch on my belt.
I’ll need to recuperate from the fight, and figure out some logistics before setting out with Teuila, but the three of us know that Te and I will be gone tomorrow.