Omega stood looking out over the space the people had assembled together for them with days of notice. And assembled was the correct word.

Gathered with the Masters and a crowd of attentive staff that she had not yet really gotten to know yet besides the distinctly white furred Shaman Keeper in billowing black sleeves.

They were ‘apologetic’ over the craft of what was honestly a palatial resort tent. No not Apologetic, there was no humility in it. They were practically boastful about their failings.

They announced proudly every limitation or trial that had overcome or failed to accomodate to Omega and the Terrans. They had such a tone and bearing to it even awkwardly translated in Aorian words and human body language the meaning was clear.

Their mistakes and outright disasters were things of Pride for The People. What she had come to understand were irreplaceable cultural artifacts had been destroyed in the third attempt for one of the walls.

There literally would never be a capacity to replace what had been lost there.

The fervent tone and solemn sharp gladness of it though was spoken in the same voice, candor and practical delight as they had enumerated their honorable fallen in the battle against possibly mythical (or perhaps all too real) monsters.

They had held something like a funeral for some of the crafts which had ‘perished’ in the effort to bring this all together under a timetable that her own past lives and the sparse hobbies of her resident skillshares winced in sympathy for.

What was said and embellished though was not as disturbing as what was said as almost an afterthought.

Blink and you would miss it but there had been hundreds of their ‘Commoners’ maimed in the effort. Speed, bulky materials and high tension did not mix safely. The Novices who were even scratched a little? They immediately got care.

Any injury especially to their hands got practical stanzas in song individually. At least a small moment of praise and thanks for their trouble too.

No one of a higher rank was even inconvenienced.

She only knew any of this because apparently the ceremony of presenting such a work to the Terrans required it somehow.

Which included some things her skill-share, who was a musician and also a reporter on politics described as ‘bureaucratic drudgery’.

Omega did not even know how many commoners lost entire limbs. Just the number and the severity of injuries. And only with the tone and consideration of some unavoidable waste in material. It was something mentioned in the margins between the ‘important’ bits.

Like a receipt of cost. Barely an inconvenience.

Not even a specific number, just a few hundred commoners who would be unfit for further work of this kind for the rest of their lives.

Blink or be distracted and you’d miss lives left abandoned.

It reminded her a lot of how Aoria was treated in the wide, flat and rich midlands. Well how they used to be treated if she was honest. A far long past girl remembered the hollow faces of those that even came back from ‘work’ midplate.

And how many never came back at all.

And then there was... wait that was not her.

That was one of the souls she brought with her, leaking a bit.

Stolen story; please report.

Omega huffed and looked over the thing again. Centering which positions were her own and not the past souls she was sheltering.

Things were different here.

This was not her place, her world. There were class divides here of some kind but she did not have context.

Maybe the commoners were peacefully retired to luxury. Maybe it was not as harsh and terrible as both her own mostly clouded memories and that of the old souls with her warned.

Maybe they were never as cruel to each other as humans could be.

Maybe this minority were just boasting because it was a way to be polite to her?

It left a bad taste in Omega’s mouth but she tried to push it down and observe things only on the face of it.

“The work is very good, incredible even. My people struggled when we first had visitors from afar, many generations ago. It took our experts far longer to do much less than this.”

That seemed to bring some consideration. Then heavy swooping dips of their heads that looked more like some predator snapping up morsels than a nod.

The Chief Hospitilator was the one who spoke.

“You honor us with your revelations and the trust to show us your weakness. We will keep this secret in the spirit of that trust.”

Omega blinked a few times but bowed her head and smiled, riding the ramification. She had given what the people deemed a concession of political or perhaps even military importance. There was really nothing but to accept their counterplay with humility.

At least as best as she could wrangle from a mere Journalist and her own recollections.

Quarti nodded along and hummed indeterminately, snacking on something hard and crumbly looking that scattered through the air in a slowly drifting halo.

She’d not seen where the prophet had managed to get it from and honestly was tempted to ask for some. After so much rich food during the feast something a little more tasteless seemed just about right.

“Still thank you so much for this space, it is indeed a palace. And the staff you’ve been very accommodating.”

That said Omega still remembered what happened last time Pylo had left them on their own.

She was not exactly interested in a repeat here.

At the very least they probably should have a bit more assistance, then again they did have Squidgie and-

“Have any of you seen Elsie? It’s been a few days and we’ve not heard from them.”

The chief Hospitilator made a face that Omega had not learned from the earlier priming in translation.

Then before he could begin to speak Squidgie interjected with an apologetic tone.

“Sorry about that Ma’am. We were hoping that they would recover by now, but it seems that Elsie has taken ill to something in the local environment. Nothing you could catch I assure you. But it required they be returned to Tunie for emergency care. The People are very gifted but they are not well suited to treating beings as Elsie is. They made arrangements for this though, but those facilities were not very portable.”

That brought confusion and a sudden seizing halt to her train of thought.

Elsie was... sick? And had to go into some kind of intensive care?

The Terrans were on their own, Again.

With just Aliens and Squidgie.

Because Elsie was sick.

What?!

https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2F2iKgphO.png [https://i.imgur.com/2iKgphO.png]

Aleph’s own voice was a perfect mirror of Omega’s thoughts.

“Elsie can get SICK?!”