⸂So…⸃ Emilia breathed out, blinking sleepily into Conrad’s neck, ⸂did someone tell you this story to keep you from using your terrifying skills for evil?⸃
Conrad laughed, the sound just as sweet and unsuited for him as the first time she’d heard it. ⸂Noticed th’similarities between th’boy’s powers an’ mine, did ya? While I’m sure m’brother made sure t’tell me th’story, so I wouldn’t go fuckin’ around with makin’ myself friends from the aethernet, it is a story told to all children where I’m from. Works to scare us all off experimentin’ with the aethernet, I think. Ain’t no way I’m fuckin’ around with the aethernet after growin’ up 'earing that it’ll warp my core and personality.⸃
⸂Oh? Is yours a common skill where you’re from? Where is that, anyways?⸃ Emilia tried, unsurprised when the man tutted and told her he wasn’t giving away his home colony so easily.
She hummed in acceptance. Chances were, they’d leave this raid, and she’d never meet the strange man again, unless they collectively decided to stupidly meet up in the real world. Given the man leaned a little too close to being a stalker, she wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it.
⸂Quite a few people where I’m from ‘ave a strong connection t’the aethernet, though,⸃ the man continued, apparently unconcerned that she might be able to use this tidbit of information to track down what Free Colony he was from. Most of the Free Colonies were so secretive she may very well be unable to, but enough of those Free Colonies had soldiers who had spilled bits and pieces of information over the course of the war. It wasn’t hard to imagine she might be able to use what she knew about him to get information from one veteran’s network or another.
Of course, she’d have to go join one of those networks. Maybe Payton would be willing to ask on her behalf? From what she’d seen, as much as he had never tried to make nice-nice with any of the vets that attended Astrapan, he did know many of them in passing. Yes, Emilia decided. Payton probably was connected to at least a few veteran networks and would be perfectly willing to ask around for her.
⸂Not as strong as me,⸃ Conrad continued, something between annoyance and pride entering his voice, ⸂but strong enough that they 'ave to be specially taught how to control themselves.⸃
⸂You’re just an anomaly, then? Irregular deviation?⸃ Emilia asked, absently fingering her silver locks.
Conrad glanced down at her. ⸂That natural?⸃
⸂Yes. Does it matter?⸃
The other visitor shrugged. ⸂Jus’ curious. Mine’s a hereditary deviation.⸃
Emilia whistled, preening slightly when the sound wasn’t repeated in her aethervoice—that would have been terribly annoying. It was a small thing, to be able to have any intention that wasn’t followed by her internal voice, but it was progress… maybe.
Hereditary deviations weren’t exactly common. The majority of irregular deviations were recessive, only appearing in the originator. Unless their partner had the same irregular deviation or was a carrier, their children wouldn’t be afflicted by the same genetic irregularity. Oliver’s beautiful, heterochromatic eyes, for instance, were unlikely to reappear in any children he had.
Her own silverstrain on the other hand? That was more likely to be passed on than not, each of Nettie’s children having inherited their mother’s silverstrain. There had been times during the history of their planet where silverstrains and their children had been considered marked as the dull bodies they were often considered to be. Empty-headed creatures for use as bed warmers and nothing else.
Her silverstrain and black knots were two of the most well known hereditary deviations, although she knew of a handful more, include ECC dyads and lavender codes—although in both those cases the exact underlying genetics made a big difference, as there were several variations of each.
Irregular deviations were, understandably, an interest of Emilia’s, yet when she looked over Conrad, analyzed the aspects of his abilities—even if those abilities were tainted by the raid… Well, she had no idea what sort of hereditary deviation he could have, and maybe that was part of it: hereditary deviations could be ridiculously consistent—the child of a black knot would have a perfect black knot, unless they experienced a genetic spasm that cancelled it out—or unexpected—the children of lavender codes could have their colouring or power or both. Perhaps her new, kinda-sorta friend’s abilities were the result of an unexpected expression of ECC dyad genes?
The man’s lips twitched as she contemplated him, her thoughts leaking out in a stream of hopping and skipping word vomit. Something told her that she was correct—that whatever he was, it was unique to him alone.
She stared at him for a long moment before deciding he was unlikely to tell her more about himself, his abilities, or his home. Instead, she asked the question that she had been rolling over between her thoughts since the story had ended. ⸂Is that really the ending?⸃
Conrad shrugged, admitting there were a couple alternative endings, but he preferred the open-ended one. ⸂I like imagining he jus’ died? Went on livin’ his life wi’ his friends, then kicked it of old age. Maybe th’friends disappeared with his death, or left and were slowly killed by monster hunters through th’Free Colonies. In one of th’endings, th’enemies he chased off come back, but he’s too broken from what he did t’stop them. In another, whatever dynasty Dion was in came and wiped out th’boy and his friends. In another, they were threatened and th’boy knew he couldn’t win—or didn’t want to risk his friend’s lives—so they left for the western sea and booked it. I’ve heard there’s another version, where he ended up at th’eastern sea, but I don’t know the details.⸃
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⸂Why not?⸃
The man hesitated before telling her it was from a different social class in his home colony. The classes didn’t interact much, so he’d only heard vague details about some of the differences in each classes’ version.
⸂I see… where are we going, anyways?⸃ she asked, rather than contemplate how much she wanted details of all the versions now. ⸂And where are the kids?⸃
Conrad’s arms twitched and Emilia pushed herself up.
⸂Conrad.⸃
⸂Emilia.⸃
⸂Where are the children?⸃
The man looked nervous. Emilia didn’t like that the man looked nervous. He seemed the sort to remain confident with his decisions even when shit hit the ceiling. Which meant…
⸂Did you let a couple of kids bully you!?⸃ she asked, incredulous that the man had gone from being beholden to his family and their Enclave to chasing her through the raid to rescuing her and the kids multiple time to… to what? To letting a bunch of kids force him to come get her? Force him to leave them somewhere? Or worse, force him to let them go off and—
⸂Conrad. Where. Are. The. Kids.⸃
The man swallowed, purple eyes refusing to meet hers as he told her, ⸂They went to rescue your friend.⸃
⸂Conrad,⸃ Emilia hissed, voice filled with enough vitriol that he visibly tensed. ⸂Take us to the kids. Now.⸃
The man swallowed again. The sheer volume of his discomfort would have been funny, if not for the fact that three kids were currently doing stars knew what trying to keep V safe—trying to keep her heart safe. Not that they should have known that V was in actual danger…
⸂We ran into a Clarity member while we were getting out of that place,⸃ Conrad confessed as they moved. ⸂It took us a while t’get out of there, so you two were already gone, and we couldn’t go back and get you out. The things I got out of that guy, though… it was clear we couldn’t leave you with those people.⸃
⸂You didn’t get that information in front of the kids, I hope?⸃ Emilia asked, glaring at the uncomfortable looking man. Seriously, had he really tortured some poor, mind controlled dude in front of the kids!?
⸂It wasn’t that bad,⸃ he grumbled back, but as Emilia’s thoughts wandered down a thread of curiosity over what the man’s mysterious and militantly ethical brother would do, were he to find out what had happened in this raid… ⸂Please don’t tell him.⸃
⸂Did you just whine?⸃
⸂Yes. Seriously, please don't tell him.⸃
⸂It’s not like we have any plans to meet up in person,⸃ she pointed out, shrugging. Can’t tell the man’s mysterious brother if she had no idea who any of them were in real life.
Conrad hummed, and although he said nothing, Emilia was pretty sure he wanted to suggest they meet up in person. Maybe, if they found the kids alive and untraumatized, she’d consider it. Not until then. Until then, she was going to glare up at the man and… and what? Realistically, she could only keep her mind quiet for so long, and between poking at the man for being an astoundingly terrible babysitter and thinking of anything else… well, the poking would get boring pretty freaking fast.
⸂Did the stories really say the creatures the boy created had purple eyes?⸃ she asked instead, glaring at Conrad’s own purple eyes, set out like jewels against his unnaturally dark skin. ⸂Or was that something added in, after the war?⸃ The monsters of war and the echos that had followed had purple eyes. It wasn’t a stretch to guess that children’s stories were now written with purple eyed monsters, or that some might even be rewritten to include them.
⸂My brother used t’tell me all sorts of stories when I was a child, decades before the war. I loved this story. I knew my genetics allowed me more connection to th’aether, without the side effects of being an ECC dyad.⸃ Conrad licked his lips, Emilia realizing for the first time that he'd altered his tongue to be more purple than pink as well, as though he needed to add one more oddity to his already strange body. ⸂Did you notice how m’accent fell away, when I was telling you th’story?⸃
Emilia had, in fact, noticed that, but changing tone and intonation while telling a story wasn’t exactly uncommon.
⸂It’s how m’brother tells it.⸃ The man’s lips quirked, his gaze shifting from the hallway he was now running down to a memory of his brother telling him stories, Emilia assumed. It was cute.
⸂So the story you just told me…⸃
⸂Is exactly th’same as th’one m’brother told me, long before th’war began.⸃
Emilia stared into the abyss, her thoughts blessedly silent as she let that sink in. It could be a coincidence. Purple eyes weren’t common in either animals or humans—outside of lavender codes, who had pale purple eyes, as opposed to the deep purple of those monsters—but many of the phenomenon that appeared from aether scars were purple—the Strats, for instance, with their iridescent purples and greens and pinks. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that someone had been inspired by a local aether scar and imagined creatures birthed of such scars as being purple as well, at least in part.
But what if it wasn’t a coincidence?
⸂That’s quite the coincidence,⸃ she said over the roar of incomplete thoughts in her brain, trying to decide if Conrad’s story was anything more than myth and superstition.
⸂Quite the coincidence indeed…⸃ Conrad breathed out, and when Emilia’s eyes shifted back into focus, the man was watching her, intent to read her expression for the reaction that her brain was refusing to let seep out of her.
They watched each other for a long moment, Emilia glad that her kinda-sorta friend was skilled enough to keep moving as they did so, silent understanding floating between them: neither of them fully believed there wasn't something—perhaps someone—who had caused the war, who was continuing to cause echo events.
Something concrete, unlike the unknowns the government had spent the last three decades doling out.
Something findable and fixable.
This time, Emilia’s lips quirked. ⸂Guess we’ll have to meet up in person, after all,⸃ she said, already thinking over the best way to meet someone she didn’t completely trust but definitely had something very important in common with.
It wasn’t like she met people willing to entertain the idea that the monsters and echoes weren’t just the result of random chance every day, after all.