Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was a host of reasons that bears of any sort had never made it to the list of animals domesticated or regularly used for cavalry in human militaries. They weren’t built for marching endurance as pack animals, they weren’t packish at all to hold together, they were predators, they liked to conserve energy in torpor states, they weren’t usually a menu item in the case of a broken supply line the way oxen or horses were, their build and gait wasn’t suited to existing saddles or howdah, and in the worst part of the considerations Skeiðbrimir was only nominally a bear. Ursidae was what the Youma most closely resembled, being large, hulking, sharp, and stocky. It could run, stand, sit, dig, climb and catch much the same way as regular bears. It’s claws seemed wholly non retractable and clacked or gouged the ground while the General directed it slowly this way with his knees and clenched thighs.

At least, if it is old, it does not fight me for dominance as male bears do. We would both be over-scarred. Seeming to share and pick up on his appreciation, even during their frustrating riding practice, Skeiðbrimir craned it’s head back and chuffed cordially. Both paused in revery, scenting and noting an aura suddenly edging their own.

“Well, it is black. “ It was like a question, but said more like a suggestion. Skeiðbrimir obediently turned on a back paw and started to lumber along a manicured yard towards the aura.

Coming or going, paying attention or not, it’s General had given the go-ahead for investigation of the other energy signature. Skeiðbrimir lumbered along at speed, minding rider enough that he remained on and the grip on its shoulders was still secure. That the same general considered that the moving awayness after the initial start meant interaction probably wasn’t wanted or required never came out as a command- he was too concentrated physically on trying to stay properly mounted. The fountain and the senshi beyond it were soon quite visible, and the youma-bear trumpetted a noise between a moan and a roar that was probably a greeting.

For his part, Titan hauled on the ruff to call the beast to stop before it was bowling the corrupted over, which meant a side dismount while still holding on. His heels dug into the ground and left leather marks over sidewalk, and furrows in the grass. Whether the senshi had noticed the trumpet or not, the drooling youma bear, or the General, was up to guessing, but Titanlåvenite pushed-pulled the bear until it was flat onto the ground as a discipline and offered softly while doing so, “It will not eat you.”

Comfortably cocksure hinged on ‘tried,’ tried-and-failed or tried-and-died, while the senshi equally disposed of battle anxiety as water from her shoulders. Where the confidence found it’s spring was a curiosity connected to names, training, commanders, and all the lifetime of service any officer had. It remained, without more, simultaneously attractive and unsettling. They become normal, too. What is one youma? Unless it is a greater youma. They lose their danger, to most. I wonder if the White Moon come to feel the same, in the end, that no single Youma or Lieutenant even is dangerous. It only takes one success to kill. Do I feel pages or regular senshi?

“This one is. “ Skeiðbrimir remained as flat as it could manage to be, letting out an extended huff. The beady eye nearest looked up at them both as might a pet beneath a holiday dinner table. “We are still new to our partnership. It is something different, working regularly with another. “

“You have had trouble with them before...feral ones? Or teammates charges?”

“They live in the Rift. We found each other. I told this one to follow, and it did. Other officers have battles, or buy their youma with starseeds. There is no one way, I believe.“ A friend, as she put it, could have been something different before. Maybe they had been an officer, or another senshi, or a family member. A teammate, or a commanding officer. Her lips and eyes made small, inscrutable motions to this or against that, and left the mask of her face more like a painting from a museum: unreadable. It was probably wiser, when in uniform, to keep a closed door policy on emotions and motives. “It’s been a while, then. Are you on a team of senshi? Or work mostly alone?”

He wasn’t sure if she meant what was the Youma like, or what was the experience of working with one like. Or both. “It is pleasant to have a regular companion. This one is simple.”

There was no pressing need to add the ‘ like me.’ She would determine that soon enough. “They are not held to schedules of sleep, food, or work. It is a comfort to have a companion on a battlefield every time. It is a help that is always with me, like my weapon. It is also a sober reminder. It is always hungry. Still learning to control the want to gorge. I do not think they ever feel full?”

Youma starseeds were shattered, and could not be healed by eating others, even if that is their instinct to try. Even the ones that had served years and been fed regularly with many starseeds by their officers. Even the great youma that sometimes rose could eat by the hundreds and did not regain form and free will from the hunger. And too many to an officer just broke their starseed, as other addictions had threatened. “ Others seem to have more thoughts while ignoring their hunger for other motivations without training. Some can still talk. I have known such one. “

Again, this one dodged the subject of a team or other arrangement of patrol partner. In this case, it was a direct question. It was similar enough to the dodgy General, to crinkle through as a greater question of what was even going on with the ranks- so many officers directly avoiding questions from others, while seeking answers to their own. He couldn’t recall any trials or charges that would encourage internal distrust and secrecy, beyond Hessonite’s overhaul of the SpecOps which was now two years behind them all. Smaller scale, and many times could do it. Smaller scale things that don’t reach ears other than those involved.

“Skeiðbrimir, I call it. It answers to it. Legg deg ned, Skeiðbrimir, “ the last word came out as a command directed at the youma, and it stayed still and laying down obediently. “What is your callsign, and who is your commanding officer?”

The wistful expulsion at least approached the earlier directness. This one was advanced in power, but had been left adrift in some very basic information about the abilities of Officers and Youma, and how or who or what they could be doing. Or why. Things that should have been part of basic training. The senshi had managed, it seemed, to get along and earn clout without the information- a kudos of a kind.

The name was heavy, drawing her face downwards.



The exact weight and feel of a hand, a touch nearly four years old, through his own hair ghosted along Titan’s nerves. “Lift your eyes, Hydra. Look on a shieldbrother—I was one of Obsidian’s, once. He is a difficult lord to please. Absent. Worse if he has taken up his old addiction again. The last time was a close thing. I heard he had taken new hands to his sword. I am glad to meet one of them at last. “

“An officer can control power enough to command youma when they are made captain. The bonded youma can be found in the Rift. Sometimes they escape to the city, so they could be taken on here.” The ‘duh’ was too harsh on herself. The need to take information on as quickly as possible, to the reduction of all extra considerations, now made sense under the cloak of Obsidian’s unforgiving Danger. “ Generals can open portals to the Rift if they need. To summon and release many youma. Or some officer or senshi may have made a youma from the starseed of a civilian, senshi, or other agent on purpose or doing something foolish. There are ways that youma can be found outside the Rift.”

Skeiðbrimir, being obedient and flat on the ground, decided to shift it’s great head to sniff at Hydra’s nearby shoes.

“ ‘They’ spoke well.”

“ Senshi of all kind cannot enter or exit the Hall of Shadows without an escort. Then down there, in the Rift itself, it is also dangerous for them to be alone. Only the General Ascendent is different. Senshi cannot bond with youma. Your strengths are different than an officer. Your starseed is different.” Who they was, or were, persisted in mystery. It wasn’t seeming like the time to pry about it, though. An amorphous, moving ghost of a presence that wasn’t too far different from the strange Ascendent General that sometimes appeared, and loomed huge in the back minds of those who served but knew no more than the rank and whispered basic details. “Senshi have the heart of a world in their chest. You are your fief; high ones that command magic that can change worlds from the magic of their own.”

There was so much hurry and holding back both in her manner. It was a hallmark of want. Her wants were, like as not, different than his had been. Want to be useful, to be thought well of, to be accepted, to be valued were all things that had wide range in the hearts of mankind. “Sword, hammer, spear, spell- they are all weapons worthy to the Throne. All whet differently. “


“No, it will not.” Skeiðbrimir had it’s orders and reminders now. Even if curiosity overmastered hunger and manners both. The General dryly nudged the back haunch of the beast with his boot, “Senshi have a lot of energy. Even not for eating, you are too exciting to leave alone. “

“Just a heart, the starseed of a man gifted power from Metallia. I was nothing before. A weapon since. “ The medals they were all to cast as treasures- his uniform bore none specifically. He’d never asked if he’d earned any, though he’d tried to keep up his review of the things to remember them when he saw them. They were a shorthand to knowing something about another officer and paying them due respects. He remembered that rare medal from the very day Laurelite was taken up as their High Queen. One with a motto, one like a rose, and then that one there in the deep purples and blacks to those who’d laid hand on the items wanted for the spell. It was her second question that disarmed in verbal sparring with more wit than he could even dream of pretending to, and Titanlåvenite chuckled. “Maybe it is both.”


It was a strange question, with how it inevitably put the questioned in place to have to be rude. Any answer, however delivered, could be taken as excuse for anger and disappointment. He shook his head and drew his hand across his smile, “Youma love energy. I have wished a long time to meet the hands better suited to Obsidian’s expectation. You are out of my league. In many ways.”

To show a medal and ask about that. Plays for power and standing thought lost in not knowing about the Rift. Young in different ways than her power, for a noble. The closeness of ‘shieldbrother’ was not wanted, then. It had been too warm and too soon offered. He should have known better. Of any of Obsidian’s, he was none thereof and unvowed- a glaring failure. Of any of the the ranks, he’d no special decorations. A weapon….since.

“ It is good policy to meet and talk with others in the field. To know each other and to support patrol and harvest. But we do take up your time. “ The last came as an apology for overstepping, in its way.