Exiled_From_Earth

  Every room beneath the Mori-keeper is dark, dusty, and reeks of something old and decrepit.

  Cassandra has gotten used to the smell, though. And even if she hadn’t, she certainly wouldn’t compin about the stench. Especially not to Mother, who is harsh in all her judgments.

  “Forgive me,” Ryomen begs on his knees as the Dwarf stands atop her dais.

  “Forgive you?” The Dwarf’s voice is cold as ice, “How can I forgive you for failing to follow one of the most crucial principles that we have sworn ourselves to, my son?”

  Ryomen lowers his head. Cassandra is sure that she sees him bite his tongue as well, but it's impossible to tell from narrowed cheeks alone.

  “The universe cannot know of our existence,” Mother excims, “Your little recreational venture serves as a fine distraction from the true purpose of this pce, a purpose which no government can be a part of. You saw the chaos that occurred when the Rusting first began to take root, and you’ve seen how these people shun consciousness transfer. Tell me, my son, if the Martian council hears of us and what we are trying to accomplish, what would they do?”

  Ryomen keeps his head down. “They would interfere.”

  “And interference?”

  “Means extinction,” Ryomen finishes.

  “Rise.”

  He obeys Mother’s command. She raises her hand. A faint blue glow spread across her fingers. She strikes Ryomen. Blood shoots from his mouth along with a tooth. He falls and struggles to his feet while gripping his jaw.

  Mother looks to Cassandra. “Do you think yourself at fault as well, girl?”

  Cassandra stands tall, though she feels much smaller than the ancient woman before her.

  Am I at fault? She knows she is. She is at fault by the very matter of her birth.

  My Father knew I would come to hold this power, and he left you all for Vanessa. There’s a chance he’s whispering in her ear right now. Telling her what you’re up to. Granted, even I still don’t know what you’re up to. You’ve only told me that the Machinists are the enemy and that we’re going to save the universe from…

  Something.

  She recalls that night she spent in this room, or was it a day?

  The runes on the walls glowed blue, crackling to life at Mother’s will. The light had fluttered onto the dais to replicate a model of a pnet that Cassandra assumed was the Forge. Her assumption was proven correct. Mother told her of Tendo’s little rebellion.

  Apparently, he had discovered evidence that the Machinists previously interacted with the universe before beginning to work in their isoted solitude.

  “It was the work that made your Schor Father suspicious,” Ryomen had said. “There was no goal to it, no purpose, just endless bor and empty ideas of spirituality.”

  Mother spoke up then, “We Dwarves knew of the Machinists and their heads. We studied them long before the Republic and Division had their brutally selfish war.”

  “So what happened?” Cassandra asked, naked and with her hands cuffed in metal.

  “What do you think?” Mother spat, “Curiosity killed my people, and I learned then that all metal must die.”

  The light model of the Forge exploded then.

  “Just as the Machinists have their Mystics, their Schors, their Builders, and their Smiths, we too have our designations. You are the Builder vessel, Cassandra.”

  Everything went cold when the light left.

  “You have been born into a great destiny and chosen for a great purpose.”

  Everything smelled like dust.

  “Together, we are going to save this universe.”

  I still have the feeling that I won’t actually be saving anything.

  Although for a moment…

  Part of me did hope to be saved.

  But my knight in shining armor turned out to be nothing but another bitch in white and red. The memories bite at Cassandra as her mind returns to the present.

  She gathers herself and clears her throat. “Perhaps I am at fault, Mother. It was Vanessa Soryu who sent the Republic woman here,” Cassandra is sure to leave out the fact that Mystic may have been involved in that process. “Because of my perceived status as Vanessa’s daughter, the Republic is probably after me.”

  “Probably?” The Dwarf scowls, “I think that we can firmly remove ‘probably’ from the equation. The Republic is most definitely searching for you, girl. And I have no doubt that your Machinist traitor of a Father has his hand in the matter.”

  Yorumi floats above Mother to lift her off the dais with their tentacle. “We need to accelerate our timetable,” She states as the Lungoza pces her onto the stone floor.

  “Timetable?” Cassandra asks, confused.

  “A schedule of events,” Yorumi dryly jokes, hovering to the door.

  “Yes, my child, but I more precisely mean that we need to hasten the training of the Builder vessel.”

  Hasten? The word makes Cassandra squint. I already py my violin every day, you forced me to channel the sound energy from it into bsts for two full days, you cut my hair because you said it may interfere with my powers, and I’m pying in Ryomen’s band every night. What more ‘training’ could there possibly be?

  “That isn’t all,” Ryomen grunts, still gripping his bruised jaw. “We’ll need him soon. Mother, my agent on Tethaseele—”

  “Adamus Atheneum isn’t on Tethaseele.”

  Mother’s statement shocks Cassandra. A jolt runs down her spine as her blood runs cold. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” She blurts without thinking, “You’re trying to do something with that creature inside of—” “How the fuck do we know that Adamus isn’t on Tethaseele?”

  Mother strikes Ryomen again, “I sent the Mystic vessel to watch over him, child. Why else do you think he hasn’t been here?”

  “It’s quite difficult to keep track of him, Mother. He’s always coming and going.”

  “That is because he is useful and grateful to serve, unlike you, Ryomen.”

  He scoffs at that, “Please, Mother, I’ve done more for you than he ever has, you only value him because—”

  “Is it truly wise to speak of these matters in the presence of the Builder vessel?”

  Mother and Ryomen’s eyes dart to Yorumi, then to Cassandra. The silence and attention doesn’t bother her as much as the previous mention of Adamus.

  Her hands twitch, she clutches them into fists. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “All will come in due time, girl,” Mother signals for Yorumi to open the door for her. They obey her command yet stay behind as she leaves. “Follow me, please.” Despite the Lungoza’s kind tone, Cassandra knows that what they said is an order, one that she has to follow.

  Ryomen, however, has other ideas. “No,” He mumbles, standing as he wipes the blood and saliva from his chin. “I’ll take her.”

  Yorumi remains idle, “You’re sure?”

  Ryomen nods, “Quite.” He smirks at Cassandra. His eyes alone are enough to make her skin crawl.

  “Very well then,” Yormui floats down the hall, going the same way Mother did, “Do as you please, Ryomen, but don’t come crawling to me for help when Mother scolds you again.”

  He scoffs to himself at that, “I won’t come crawling to you for anything…”

  Cassandra crosses her arms as Ryomen snorts, “Come along, girl. We have things to do. More tests and such.”

  Cassandra soon finds herself about halfway down a dark hallway.

  “Didn’t your Father ever teach you not to follow strange men through dark halls?”

  She sneers at Ryomen’s question, “I wasn’t aware that I had much choice in following you. Besides, based off half of what I’ve seen since I got here, my Father didn’t teach me much of anything.”

  Ryomen lets loose a roaring chuckle. The sudden and unexpectedly expressive dispy stuns Cassandra.

  “Yes.” Ryomen wipes his mouth again. Dried blood sticks to his moustache. “Yes, that sounds like him. He probably thought that he was protecting you by not telling you of your true origin.”

  Cassandra is now definitively fed up with this shit. “And what is that true origin? You keep talking around all of this stuff! Why was I born? Who’s my real Mother? It can’t be that dwarf, can it? How is Adamus involved in all of this anyway? What’s that thing inside of—”

  “Why is it that you are so concerned with the state of your former betrothed?” Ryomen ftly inquires. Halting his stride down the hall, he turns back to her. “Did you two copute?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m asking if you—”

  “I know what you’re asking!” Cassandra reddens, “I just want to know why you’re asking it! Because— because… What the actual fuck!”

  “Yes, fucking is what I’m asking about,” Ryomen says in the fttest voice Cassandra has ever heard, causing her to realize, not only is everyone in this pce downright insane, but they’re also somehow more socially inept than I am!

  Ryomen silently approaches her, his tall, slender frame eerily looms over her like an omen of doom, “Do you have feelings for Adamus?”

  Ryomen had asked her something simir before, Smith had also asked her a question like that back on Ourobeel. Cassandra admitted then that she had thought of—still thinks of—Adamus as a friend.

  He was the first person she ever met who didn’t lie to her or outright manipute her. That list may have grown somewhat, but it’s still awfully small. A fact that Cassandra is growing to loathe more and more.

  Cassandra huffs, “Fine. I’m guessing that you just don’t want me freezing up or hesitating whenever we do confront him. If that’s the case, then no. I don’t have ‘feelings’ for Adamus, and I definitely didn’t ‘copute’ with him.”

  She prepares to continue down the narrow hall, but Ryomen pushes her back, “What if that wasn’t the case? Even if Adamus weren’t part of our pns, would you still say that you don’t feel anything towards him?”

  “Well…” Cassandra realizes that this isn’t a situation where she can lie, just like most of the situations that this terrible pce with terrible people has forced her into. “I never said that I felt ‘nothing’ toward him.”

  “What do you feel then?”

  “Disgust.” Cassandra leaves out that she also feels disgusted by Ryomen right now. In fact, she feels like punching him. She’s beginning to want to go as far as to drive her fist through this whole pce and everything in it.

  “I do suppose that disgust is a feeling,” Ryomen lowers his eyes, his knuckles drift to rest against his chin, “But what about your Machinist friends? How do you feel about them?”

  Cassandra’s surprised that she doesn’t feel more offended by the inquiry, but she’s more so relieved that he didn’t ask her if she ‘coputed’ with any of them.

  “They’re my family,” She defiantly states. Or at least the closest thing I have to one…

  Her thoughts fall onto Mystic at Ryomen’s words. More importantly, they fall onto the fact that the Republic woman hinted that Mystic had sent her. Cassandra can’t stop thinking about that. Mystic clearly cares for her, almost in the way a sister would.

  She was thankfully able to get out before they got to her and Anvil. She’s no doubt trying to get them both out now. Mystic has one thing in common with Cassandra that she’s sure is motivating them both.

  They don’t have anyone else.

  No one save for Anvil.

  And perhaps Smith, but only if Kaga is lying about them being dead.

  But isn’t Cassandra close to death as well? The longer she’s with this group of sickos, the longer—

  Ryomen grips her by the throat.

  “You think the metal cares for you, girl? You think they’re your family?" He snarls, spitting the dried bloody fkes out from his moustache and onto Cassandra’s face, still scarred by hawk talons.

  “You think that someone from the same species as your traitor Father could ever truly love you? You’ve been abandoned, girl.” His voice grows harsh, forceful. “I may not be a vessel, but I have known the light of Mother’s guidance. Her hope. She raised me up from nothing after everyone and everything had abandoned me. My mind had been fractured and severed among my birds, she helped me stitch it back together!”

  His fingers press deeper into her throat, like cws.

  “She fixed me. I truly hope that she fixes you to…” He tilts up her chin with an icy finger, peering into her eyes with his dark gaze.

  Cassandra squeezes her hands into fists, gritting her teeth.

  “Little sister…”

  He forces her head up to his. His hands become a cage as he attempts to shove his cold, cruel lips onto hers.

  She spits at him before it can happen.

  The sound sps him harder than even Mother’s power did.

  “Good,” He spews, wiping his mouth again as Cassandra watches him in revulsion and terror.

  “That concludes your training for today.”

  Cassandra turns back and runs down the hall as fast as she can, thinking to herself, pleading, I need to get out of here.

  Get me out of this pce.

  Please, Mystic, get me as far away from all this as possible!