“So what's the news?" Yhana calls, craning over a tetrad of guards.

From all the way down the hallway, I reply, “There's a lot to go over. …It's better said any other way than this though."

I've got four guards to myself as well. They keep us several paces apart, on our own respective side of the arbitrary delineation between public and secure areas of the palace, the wavelike motif of the stonework in between only adding to the sense of distance.

“Don't keep me waiting too long. This is your last session, right?" she continues. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, making no effort to actually pass the line of vigilants but it keeps their veiled heads swishing to follow all the same.

Yhana, for all her efforts, has been scarce, permitted in the palace as a guest of Nym's, but barred from the secure sectors following her last diagnosis, just as I've been barred from leaving them until I am cleared. Her insistence that she guard me has amounted to little more than particularly insistent loitering in the end but I'm appreciative of her company. Even at several paces apart.

“I think so?" It comes out like a question, and it might as well be. Over the past few days, my sessions with Nym had been much less conversational. I think we were both still thinking about what we'd done at the first one. At the very least, I certainly was.

“If that's changed, I don't know, he hasn't really been chatty."

“Nym? That doesn't sound like him at all," Yhana remarks. One of the guards very nearly breaks their stoic veneer with a suppressed snort but they permit themselves no more when the other three in the line give them a glance.

“Yeah, that's uh… that's to do with the news," I clarify.

For what it's worth, I hadn't been very chatty either. Neither Nym nor I had the nerve to bring it up, let alone reinitiate his exploration of my body where we left off. Not that I'd have had the strength for that. The entire inside of my mouth is black now, my ectoplasmic decay systemic, and yet I hold my shape. At times I even think I could probably go without coagulant indefinitely, but the weight of my fatigue makes a compelling argument against that. Gelatinous muscle tugs at springy bone. If these vigilants actually had any problem with me being here, I would not be able to resist their force.

“I'll be eagerly waiting," Yhana says, fingers tenting. “Right here."

“You really don't have to," I insist.

“But I will."

“It's a nice gesture but… home?"

She shrugs, her grin breaking just long enough to let some concern come through. “It's a mess out there and you're the one with the Warden escort."

“…You know, fair."

“Besides," she continues, her smile renewing, “I've got news for you too."

“…Yeah?"

“Yeah!" she echoes. “Go finish up, I'll tell you when they let you leave."

Surely to the relief of the vigilants, she backs down, clasping her hands in farewell and returning to the lobby they face. There aren't really that many people coming to file papers with the obscure bureaus stationed here in light of recent events, so until anyone moves to remove her, she's gotten cozy.

That just leaves me to my next session, then.

They've been quiet, even awkwardly so. I go in, we exchange pleasantries, he asks how I'm feeling, and I only answer in terms of my physical state. I spend several minutes in the chair, he draws off a set of vials, and unlike the first time, he packages one up, nestled into crumpled paper and sealed into a tiny wooden box.

Sometimes, Samsara is there. She is always just leaving when I arrive, and our pleasantries are brief. As far as I know, she has no further need for treatment, but I doubt she and Nym are convening just to chat.

Jen came up in mention two days ago. I neglected to talk about my encounter right after it had happened, but when I finally told Nym, he grew so angry he had to leave the room. I never saw him like that before. On one hand, I'm a little unnerved at how reminiscent of his brother that was, calling to mind and giving credence to the thing I still regret saying, but on the other, I can't help but feel just a little fuzzy inside that he got that worked up for me.

It didn't really open the way to chat though. I didn't push for it. Even days ago he looked tired. Sleep isn't as important for us but we still need to rest. Whether I'm here or not, he's been working nonstop.

Oleander's broadcast yesterday, for lack of any present conversation, filled me in on what I missed. The ship that appeared over the city was brought here by an as of yet unidentified gapwalking technique. Most reports detailing the sites where these techniques were unsuccessful described them as places of organized mass suicide. Runic arrays drawn in blood, an excellent conductor of radiance, after all.

Ironically, what brought the ship down had been another suicide mission. It hadn't been bombarding indiscriminately, its targets were the star reactors in the catacombs deep below Iyakamraa, with intent to destroy the unique energy grid that sustains a city of this size. They succeeded in depriving power to a little over one eighth of Iyakamraa, not counting the targeted sites themselves, which had been entirely obliterated. 

A team of technicians gave their lives overloading a reactor in its path, causing it to rupture on its own before the beam could neutralize it. Anyone above who couldn't evacuate was doomed anyway.

Officially, we're still under attack. The skies are clear but an unconfirmed number of stranded conscripts and their handlers remain in the city, some inclined to go down swinging, and others said to be in hiding. Those already apprehended, not slain in battle, face execution one by one in public view until all are done away with.

The vigil hasn't been able to give the all clear, but they have been distributing aid where possible. There is an atmosphere of despair that weighs down on all of Iyakamraa even though the smoke has stopped rising.

Today's broadcast is a series of eulogies for the lost furnace personnel. After the first ten or so, the mood in the room is so profoundly morose I have to break my silence.

“So…" I begin, already disliking my first syllable, “everything is good over there?"

“It is," Nym confirms, his eyes firmly on the monitor.

“Right… I'm just not clear on how long we need to keep verifying this. I thought today was the last one."

“It is." He bends to fill another vial. Inky black sediment gushes in, opaque and thick. “This is as much time as we get, Jen has decided."

We've done this so many times, I've lost enough ectoplasm to fill a couple of mesh crates at this point, kept stable in an icebox in the back corner. The low, electrical hum of it occasionally pulls my attention, reminding me of just how much has been drained out of me.

“Nym," I address, a stupid thought forcing its way past my teeth.

“Hm?"

“Were you keeping this up so long so he wouldn't send me away?"

That pauses him, recalibrating with a sigh. “Can that be a little bit of the reason why?"

“Nym, come on." The words come out with a breathy chuckle but even I catch the uncharacteristically admonishing tone in them.

“Right, right," he says, not taking it as badly as I had momentarily feared. “But no, it's for testing. You're going to be gone, so for lack of being able to monitor your health here, it's good to have some samples to… to keep track, you know?"

That makes sense to me. I'm sure they have doctors and aberrators where I'm going but Nym has insight to offer that may prove useful. Any new developments in all those samples might serve as a decent forecast of what's in store for the ectoplasm still in my body.

At the same time, double-checking my thoughts as usual with that admittedly neurotic scrutiny of mine, I can't help but reflect on Suraokh's warning in a literal sense.

They will use you up.

The thought that perhaps I've been harvested to some degree does stick in my brain but it simultaneously feels too irrational to bring up if I'm wrong, and unwise if I'm right.

But that could be the product of another one of the doll's mind games, I'm well-aware. Efforts to separate me from support, and in turn solely fulfill his need to be useful, perhaps. I don't actually know if that's the kind of person he is though. I confess, the realization that he's a kind of person at all is a somewhat recent one.

I'm all too aware of the irony and hypocrisy in that.

“I think that's just about that," Nym speaks up, adjusting a few settings. “Let's get you rehydrated and we can finish up. Wait til your system's acclimated itself again before you start taking coagulant again, alright?"

“How long will that take?" I ask.

“I'd give it a few days. You'll know when you're ready."

I feel the flow of nonessential compounds into the ports in my spine cease, their chemical tingle fading until only the familiar chill of saline solution remains, and it takes seconds for my focus to resharpen. I resist the urge to stretch for now, giving Nym time to remove the forked IV adapter at my neck.

“Nym," I begin again, my eyes finding his, now that he's so close, “about that first session…"

He doesn't betray anything in any body language he's actually got control of, at least until he hears the growing whine of his circulatory pump picking up speed, and realizes I can hear it too. “Oh, right… It's fine, really."

“But I had just been getting after you about not asking me about things," I insist, “and then I did that without asking and—“

He places a couple of fingers to my mouth to shush me, and leans in close. Despite my mixed expression, he's smiling calmly. “Then just ask next time."

He noses my cheek fluff, it's an innocent enough gesture despite its boldness, but I still feel sparks.

“N-next time?" I ask. I keep my ears perked, intending to convey confidence for all the good that'll do in tandem with my cracking voice, but they swivel in short twitches, a fidgety tic I can't quite help.

He notices that too, huffing out a chuckle into one of them and making it flick. That's a fair bit bolder, but as he backs off, pulling out the drip and bandaging the point of insertion, I find myself chuckling as well.

“Well yes," he affirms. The shape of his smile changes, especially in his eyes; a little less cheeky, a little more wistful. “Once it's safe again, maybe you'll come back to Iyakamraa?"

Mine changes too; a little less flustered, a little more resolute. “Yeah. Maybe so."

As I work up to standing up, he takes the last vial filled, and begins wrapping it up again. On my way out, I finally speak on it. “I've been meaning to ask, what's that for?"

“A second opinion," he replies. “Loathe as I am to admit it, there are people smarter than me out there."

He's got a real talent for making me laugh, even if it comes out a bit weakly. As he finishes packing it up, there is some temptation to linger just a bit longer than necessary, but Nym immediately sets to work logging the results, making sure the Archivists got what they wanted, so I decide against it. 

“Oh, one more thing?" he speaks up, noticing me testing out walking on my own again.

“Hm?"

“Jori has been trying to arrange a casual get-together for interested crewmates for a while. After recent happenings, she's not delaying any further so whoever's going is who's going to be there. I think Yhana might try to bring you along."

“Ahhhh you probably shouldn't have told me that, I think she's been gearing up all morning to say it," I say with an awkward chuckle.

“Whoops! Forget I said anything," he says with a performatively frantic handwave, as if trying to waft away smoke.

“Will you not be going?" I ask.

“Too much to do here. I guess you'd better enjoy yourself twice as much for me."

It only takes a few minutes to navigate back to that border hallway. The vigil on my end of it are standing with their backs to the wall now, my business done for the moment.

Yhana is still in the lobby, reclining on a bench, one calf bouncing atop the knee of the opposite leg.

As I approach, I echo her earlier greeting, “So what's the news?"

She rolls over so quickly I worry momentarily she's going to fall off, but she catches herself, hands gripping the armrest her head had been on just moments ago. “Weeell, Samsara got me in the room with Jen," she begins, “and I got the all clear to escort you to the end of the line. Officially, even."

“That's great!" I agree, but my enthusiasm is tainted by the deeper implication, one I was already aware of, that I won't be seeing much of her after that.

“There's one other thing too," she continues. “I asked Samsara if I could take you with me for a bit, and she said yes, so… Jori's been trying to wrangle some people for a small gathering tonight; it's nothing big, basically just an excuse to drink and forget our fears for a bit and there's no time like the present. Are you interested?"

“Yeah, Nym did mention that. Count me in though."

She huffs, hair resettling around her shoulders. “Ruin the surprise why doesn't he, I'm gonna eat him," she vows, prompting the guards to wordlessly step closer together. “Did he say if he's coming, at least?"

I shake my head. “He's too busy." I actually have to check myself to refrain from mentioning here how close I came to eating him, though I'm sure my circumstances would have been more tender despite the salivating frenzy we both were locked in. I'll tell her away from the guards.

“Aww, I'm sorry. You look even more disappointed than me," she consoles. 

Despite her sincerity, I'm doing my best not to betray deeper feelings right here. “I mean I guess I would be, he deserves a break."

“Yeah, too bad about that." She rolls over again, off the bench this time, feet hitting the floor in a low crouch before propelling her to her full height, popping her back and stretching through a tongue-curling yawn. “Well, can't be helped. How long will it take you to get out of that gown and into something functional?"

“Oh, yeah…" I look down at myself, nearly forgetting about it. It's not as revealing as some of course but it'll be of little use against the perpetual nip in the air at this latitude. “Not long, do you want me to meet you in the station below?"

Yhana shakes her head. “It's shut down, they can't risk a direct line right under the palace right now. We'll have to leg it to the nearest public one. Just meet me out the south side, alright?"

Once again, we split up, and I hurry back down that triangular hallway to the room I've been using, getting myself back into something serviceable.

I miss the scarf already, but as I root through the small dresser's worth of outfits I've procured in my void coordinate, I make do with something cozy. A short base layer on top, long one on bottom, though I spend longer than I'd have liked smoothing my fur back out. Fleece-lined pants, a simple apron, and a light jacket finish off the look, and I make my way back out.

Or rather, I start to. I probably won't be coming back here if they're hauling me off so soon. Gathering up what little is mine, I remake the bed even though it will probably be cleaned thoroughly after my departure, and then I'm off.

I don't even need to find a sanctifier to let them know I'm going out; I spot them in my periphery from time to time, keeping tabs on me as always.

Just like she said, Yhana is outside, in a wide, gray courtyard. I've never actually been out this way. Anything green is methodically placed in spaces left just for the purpose; all the rest is a flat, pale expanse that matches the concrete shell around the pyramid.

“Oh good, look at you, you look ready to do absolutely nothing," she says with a smile.

“I'm… not sure how I'm meant to take that," I return. I look myself over, momentarily second-guessing my choices. She always looks so put-together, even the ruined fishnet sleeves of the same red zip-up she's been cleaning for the past several days look deliberate.

“No no, it's a good thing," she adds, palms out. “I know we've been doing nothing for a while but now we get to do it for fun."

I giggle quietly, any reservations melting away. “Yeah, I get it. We're not going straight away, are we? It still seems a bit early."

“Nah, I wanna check up on Kyra first, then we've got time for a late lunch before we make our way over," she explains. She raises an arm and turns, motioning me to follow her out of the courtyard.

The next available station is a little further away than anticipated, mandating we cross two checkpoints on our route to it. Any delay we might have otherwise experienced is fast-tracked when, both times, a sanctifier enters unsubtly as well, wordlessly accelerating our passage. The second one boards the same train, albeit a different car; I wouldn't be surprised if there are some in plainclothes as well. 

The train isn't as busy as usual, but that's no surprise either. I feel a little bit uneasy to be out here myself, but between Warden oversight and Yhana's company I'm at least somewhat reassured.

“Will you be alright?" Yhana eventually asks, watching the city roll by out the opposite window.

“Hm?" I mutter, catching myself zoning out. “Oh, yeah, I should be. Nym says it'll be safe to start coagulant again in a few days."

“No, I mean, going on your way again," she clarifies.

“Oh." That's all I get out for a few seconds, realizing how unsure of my answer I actually am. But I manage something. “I think so. I mean I hope so." I look up as well, at the skyline missing chunks, buildings that used to carve narrow trapezoid silhouettes out of the violet-blue leaving behind lonely companions. “I never really did get a chance to settle in, you know?"

“How do you mean?"

“It's like…" Seconds pass again, in silence, broken by a sigh. “...there was always something happening. Constant reminders this place isn't home. I don't think Iyakamraa ever let me know it well enough to miss it. But I'll miss the people."

She turns, finally, weight all on one hip. I mirror her, as much as I can with our height discrepancies. Even seated, she effortlessly towers over me. The arm she's resting atop the backrest slides off, around my shoulder, and pulls me close for a hug. I let it happen, slowly, awkwardly putting my arms around her too. But there are no remarks, no urgency, no strings. We just hold each other and feel the tracks rattle beneath us for a little while.

I wasn't really counting seconds, but after enough of them, she softly chuckles, pulling off and leaning back into her seat.

“What's so funny?" I ask.

“Do you remember how we met?" she asks, grinning.

“Oh, gods yeah…" I groan, rolling my eyes. “You thought I walked up to kill you."

“Yeah, I was gonna kill you," she asserts, letting herself laugh in earnest. “Ahhh, I'm glad I didn't."

“Not as glad as I am…" I quietly insist. “...Why is that, anyway?"

“I mean, you probably would have been really bad for me, right? All your chemicals, I know I was in a state after that guy with the stupid shoulder things too."

“No, I mean why did you think I'd kill you?"

She tugs down the brim of her hat, lowering her head as if to doze the rest of the way. “It's Paliputra out there. Someone's always killing someone."

As much as I can't argue with that, I very, very much want to pry. No one is that jumpy. But, with breath drawn and ready to go, I decide to just breathe it right back out, no words. She can have this one.

I sink back into the seat to rest too, almost tuning everything out again after several minutes, when Yhana nudges me.

“I'm so sorry, you had something you wanted to tell me too, right?" she asks, peeking an eye from beneath her hat.

“Oh, yeah…" A flustering surge makes my heart buzz; it's quiet but it feels like a hummingbird trying to escape my ribs. The pads of my fingers tap arrhythmically, fidgeting as I search for the best way to say this. “Well… Nym and I…" Fuck it.

“Nym and I kissed."

Yhana's hand shoots up, gripping my muzzle closed. “Fucking Lurrah shut up actually!" she laughs, fully engaged once more. “Wait until I'm drunk before you drop something that juicy, alright?"

I grab her wrist, sliding my head back out of her grasp, shaking it off and recalibrating my mouth; you can picture it, you've seen dogs.

It's interesting enough to Yhana though that she grabs the tip of my tongue, over the sound of my inarticulate protest. I reel it back into my mouth, a bit taken aback. “Gods, what is it with you and Kyra putting your hands in my—"

“Your tongue's black."

I shrug, letting the same motion carry my tails up beside me, out of the little alcove reserved between seat and backrest, rising into a fanning shape. “Yeah, I guess the transformation didn't really agree with me after all. Every time I get injured, it gets a little bit worse."

“And you'll be alright for a few more days?" she presses.

I shrug again. My tails fold over my lap like a fluffy blanket. “My blood's all clean. I should be."

I feel her hand on my shoulder once more. “You'd better be."

Before we know it, we reach our stop, barely inhabited between passengers waiting to board and the scant vigil detail here. I suppose they have their hands full further to the north.

Not that this area is totally unscathed either. Entire neighborhoods lie silent as rushed repairs are made where bombs fell and warkites crashed, the rubble swept for survivors and foes alike.

It's a tremendous stroke of luck that Yhana's street has little more to show than some broken windows and boarded-up doors. Quite a few doors like that; they call Jen's words to mind again and I feel a pang of impotent rage remind me it's still in there. I manage to tuck it back deep again by the time we make it to Yhana's floor though.

She knocks on the door in that specific rhythm to disengage the trap on the other side, but the sound that typically follows never comes. With some trepidation, she undoes the one accessible lock from outside, and nudges it open. The multiple interior locks that usually reinforce it are undone too. The interior is still and quiet, nothing out of place save for a few dishes left on the table, in the natural and only light entering the room.

“Maybe she's not home?" I ask.

“She almost always is…" Yhana says, in that muttered register usually reserved for talking to oneself. With a sense of urgency, she hurries to the corner ramp, making for Kyra's room.

I follow with just a bit of distance between us; I've never been up here before, I don't know where she's stopping until she's there. In the hallway, she turns left, giving that door a couple of taps.

“Kyra?" she calls.

Before either of us can start to formulate worst-case scenarios, it does open, violet eyes peeking out from the sliver of darkness beyond. “Oh good, you're back." Her voice lacks its usual bruskness, wavering with an almost timid note.

“Yeah, we thought you weren't," Yhana says. “Are you alright?"

Kyra opens the door the rest of the way; the room beyond is much more organized than I would have guessed, but I don't give it more than a glance as she comes out. “Oh, the locks. I've been coming and going. Checking up on people, trying to help where I can."

“Yeah?" Yhana leaves it at that, she can tell there's more her cousin wants to say.

The black-furred jackal breaks her gaze, prosthetic tendrils wrapping once all the way around herself before gripping the opposite arm. “Txeren's not doing well," she sighs. “He's barely conscious most of the time." Her jaw tightens, and she swallows hard. “They killed his siblings. All of them."

Yhana's ears swivel, uncertain whether to stand upright or to droop. They settle on the latter, and she steps forward, taking Kyra in her arms. I step closer but I don't know what to do, what to add; last time I saw her she was in a bad way herself, partly because of me. So I just stand there, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I never know what to say in times like this.

Kyra disengages before Yhana is ready, straightening herself out with a pronounced sniff. “But you're good?" she asks, glancing from Yhana to me and back.

“Good as ever," she assures. “Well at least I am. Their tongue's black."

“For real?" Kyra asks, perking up a bit. Her tendriled arm extends toward me, and I only resist a little bit as she takes a turn pulling it past my teeth to look. “That's fucked up."

“Yeah," I say, fingers still in my mouth.

Yhana gently takes the bundle of tensing cords, pulling Kyra off of me. “We wanted to see if you were interested in joining us tonight? Jori's thing," she says, probably something she'd mentioned to Kyra before, with as long as it's been a tentative plan.

Kyra shakes her head, stepping back into her room. “I'm good. I'm going to be heading out again soon as it is. But you two have fun, you need it."

“Be safe," I urge.

She huffs softly, cracking half of a smile. “Be careful." She closes the door, diverging from us once again.

Yhana sighs, vision still fixed on the door, her expression distant. After a few moments, I step forward, reaching a hand up high to her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

“Alright," she says. “I'll get changed, gather some things, and we'll get going."

“Take all the time you need." I excuse myself back down the ramp, and she heads the other way, further down the hall.

I wait on the far side of the living room, set gently on the sofa, but not for long. Yhana comes down a few minutes later. She's set aside the hat for now, tying her hair up in the back. She wears a long poncho now, black and white, patterned in elongated, rounded hexagons, the kind of thing one uses to confuse a non-ocular camera, but it's got the added benefit of looking sharp. Billowy pants, wrapped at the ankle, blur the movement of her legs as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. I take that as my cue to get up, but by the time I'm there, she's already coming back, two large dark glass jugs in her grasp; alcohol I assume. Letting them go as if to drop them, they flicker out, stored for later.

“That's all we need to show up with," she declares, striding past me for the door. “Let's get going."

“Right," I confirm, following her. I don't spend too long on it, but on my way out, I do turn back, getting one last look at the place. It was never home, I remind myself. In the big picture of it all, I didn't really spend much time here. But this still feels like closing out on another part of my journey. This one was even good.

“Merion?" she calls, pulling me back into the moment.

“Sorry," I mutter. I step out, letting the door swing shut. Yhana finishes locking up, and then together, we leave.