Welcome to Gaia! ::

OKAY SO THAT HAD BEEN A HUGE MISTAKE OH MY GOG. She hadn't realised how she was holding the daywalker spray and she'd accidentally sprayed it and then she'd been chased by whatever those things were (she couldn't see them properly because as soon as they'd come out the cave growling, Loupsus had grabbed her by the shirt and pelted for it.) and she'd only managed to grab two mushrooms from the big patch she'd been investigating in the chaos.

On the plus side, this disgusting-smelling, rot-filled pond was FILLED with mushrooms. Well not the pond itself - water fungi after all, were different than mushrooms - but carefully skirting round the edges (because waterproof boots or not, that looked disgusting and she wanted to be nowhere near it) Aconan scooped up handfuls of mushrooms from the surrounding earth single-handed, putting them in her satchel. The other hand was still clutching the day-walker spray. Eerie forest followed by rotting area? This place pratically reeked (heh, that was funny because it did stink) of undead.

Loupsus seemed alarmed too, both sets of ears pricked and canting back and forth as he tried to keep watch,to make sure his precious pup would be safe, safesafesafe!

If you managed to participate in every choice during this event, gain 3 additional mushrooms. Winners to be announced shortly!

“Hush, little one, hush...” Odette’s voice was soft as she rocked the wriggler in her arms, wrapping it up in a sopor swaddle. She couldn’t stand to watch the little things cry, especially when it woke all the others. So what if it was coddling? It was all for the greater good, ultimately. Was it so bad that she wanted everyone to sleep easy in their new home?

“Everything is alright,” She cooed, using her powers to still the harsh, windy air around them. Light on her feet, she moved up the stairwell to the top of the tree, and in a few calculated hops, landed softly on the tree’s canopies. Careful with her hold on the wiggler, she settled down on the leaves, nestling in.

The little wiggler continued to cry, and Odette frowned, worried. She looked away, trying to come up with a solution. Cooing wasn’t solving this problem… Perhaps a distraction was in order? She tickled the wiggler with her free hand. The wiggler’s top legs peeped out of the swaddle, running up her hand tickling her back.

She sighed, looking to the sky, watching the moons. An idea stuck her. Her gaze drifted slightly to the right, searching for something. Five stars stuck out to her, still brilliant against the light sky. “Do you see that, little one?” Odette asked the grub, tracing the stars with her finger. The wiggler seemed stunned, confused that Odette’s attention had drifted elsewhere. “That’s the featherbeast, Fetch,” She explained. She smiled, tracing in more details. “See?” She asked, “There’s his wings, and his tail.”

The wiggler let out a cry, reaching for Odette’s hands with its wiggling feet. Odette gave in, moving to tickle it again. Still, she watched the wiggler closely, continuing her story anyways. “Fetch was a great lusus. Not great in size, but he was a good leader for his troll, Jinwei.” She paused for dramatic effect, despite knowing it meant little to the wiggler. Absentmindedly, she hugged him tighter, and turned her sights back to the stars.

“Jinwei and her lusus were very close. Surely, they fought, and Jiji would scream, just like any child. But Fetch had a trick.” She glanced back at the grub, tilting her head coyly. She extended her pointer finger, as if she were about to teach something.

“He didn’t have any fancy toys. This was a long time ago, before the cities were made— before space travel,” Odette tapped the grub’s lips, amused by the wiggler’s blubbering lips. Babbling, the grub took her finger and put it in its mouth, nibbling curiously. Odette smiled, a flutter in her chest making some heat rise to her face. Watching it, she nearly forgot she was telling a story. She started this whole thing as a distraction, but now the grub had caught her up in a distraction of its own. How clever, she thought. She resumed.

“So, when Jinwei got angry, Fetch took her to the ocean to pick rocks. He’d tell Jiji to find the prettiest one, and throw it into the water. And she’d listen.” She explained. “Then he’d collect them for her, diving deep into the water to bring them back to his charge, telling her to throw again. They’d do this all night, back and forth— and before she knew it, Jiji wouldn’t be angry anymore.”

“Jiji got older, and so did Fetch. Soon enough, Jiji started to like throwing rocks; She made a game of it. She’d throw as hard as she could, to see if her lusus could still catch it. She even learned how to skip the stones across the water, so they’d go even farther! Sometimes leagues away!” Odette exclaimed, though quiet. The grub widened its eyes, mouth agape for a short moment before nibbling on Odette’s finger again. “So…” She continued, turning away from the wiggler.

“One day, Fetch and Jinwei were separated.” Odette spared the wiggler the gruesome details. “And of course, she was mad. So like her lusus taught her, she took her stones to the ocean and started throwing. But without her lusus…”

Odette heaved a sigh, pulling herself together. She turned back to the wiggler, trying to paint on a faint smile. She pulled him close, wanting to feel warmer.

“Without her lusus,” She continued, “She couldn’t get the rocks back. She threw every single one on the beach, until she didn’t have any left. She was so good at throwing them, they ended up miles out from shore. So even though she was a pretty good swimmer, she couldn’t get them back.”

“So she cried. She cried a lot. She didn’t know what to do without the rocks, without Fetch” She paused. The wiggler was finally getting drowsy, freeing Odette’s finger with a lazy yawn. Smiling, she brushed its hair away and planted a kiss on its brow. She’d have to finish her story faster, if she cared to have someone listening.

“Thankfully, someone heard her crying,” Odette said, a warmth returning to her expression and tone. “A little seadweller came out of the ocean at her feet, with a wicker basket filled with brilliant, flat white stones. The seadweller saw Jiji throwing the rocks, and was totally captivated by her show of strength, that she just had to see her do it again.”

“Jiji was so grateful of the seadweller’s help, it filled her with purpose. She was going to do something special with these stones, she could feel it, deep down inside.” She turned to the wiggler. Sure enough, it had fallen asleep, and just at the best part.

“Then, one night… When the moons were low enough in the sky...” Odette brushed the hair out of the wiggler’s face again, watching its slow, sleepy breaths. She did her best not to move, keeping her breaths still and her tone soft.

“Jinwei skipped a rock so far, it bounced off the moons, and into the night sky.” She said, a hint of wonder in her voice. She knew the wiggler wasn’t listening, but the feat had always impressed her as a child. It was deserving of some excitement and praise.

“This gave Jiji an idea. With the rest of her stones, she skipped them into the night sky, memorializing her lusus into the stars.” She said. “And then she was happy, because her lusus would always be with her.” Her voice trailed off, ending the story with a sad smile on her face.

She stayed like that for a moment, sitting in the canopy, not in any particular thought. She could say that she was enjoying the view, but that wasn’t really true either. More than anything, she was watching the wiggler, so content with her help that she didn’t want it to end.

But it couldn’t last forever. At this point, the sky was bright enough that the featherbeast constellation was fading into the sky. So finally, Odette rose, trying to keep herself from rocking the wiggler too much as she moved. She gave a final, happy sigh and returned the wiggler to its quarters, satisfied enough to return to her own hive for the oncoming day.

The stars were brighter tonight than Duanwu ever remembered, though it might've simply been wonder and excitement sparkling in their eyes. That, or the lanterns. Oh, they truly loved the glittering lanterns, and they might've stopped to stare longer if there wasn't a very important goal fighting for prominence in their fleeting thoughts.

Small, slender fingers clenched tighter around the wooden toy boat held to their chest. It was impressive, hardly a toy when you considered its dragon headed bow and delicate, ornate carvings. Their lusus had sculpted it with his long, needle-like fingers and painted it in brilliant reds, blues, and greens. It would be the talk of the races!

Or it would've been if this particular festival had any such event. Back home, a small group of neighborhood children celebrated every Harvest Moon Jubilee with boat races on the ocean and this sweep would've be Duanwu's first. The thought never crossed their mind when they were lured to the plains with talk of the absolute best Jubilee a troll could ask for, a joy dangled in front of them like sticky, sweet candy, that the lack of any prominent bodies of water also meant the lack any good racing venues. Even more disappointing, anyone they talked to had never even heard of such an event. It had taken them a private moment to settle themselves at the sheer disillusionment bubbling in their stomach.

It was thanks to their lusus and his knack for quick, creative thinking that they were even here now, excited once more, standing in front of a rusty old wash basin full of water, a gift from a stall worker who pitied them in their unusual situation. Joining them were other children they'd recruited with promises of fun and prizes (there were no prizes) whose expressions ranged from vaguely interested to downright bored. In the water, some barely staying afloat, were boats made of cups and tree bark and other assorted odds and ends, all looking decidedly ragged next to Duanwu's dragon.

"... But there are special rules!" The young troll had obviously been prattling on for some time now. "Well... I dunno if they're really rules, but everyone else always did them, so we should, too." No one responded between their short pauses for breath. "This one is super important!" Reaching into a small pouch tied at their waist, only one of many, they pulled out a handful of rice and tossed it with vigor right into the impromptu race course.

As soon as they saw the grains float, mirroring stars against the canvas of night, Duanwu realized their mistake. "A-Ah, no-!" they exclaimed, snapping a piece of rice from the water and making waves for the tiny vessels. "You're supposed to wrap the rice so it sinks. I forgot..." When the only looks they got were dubious ones, they hurried to explain. "It lures the glubbeasts away! Then the boats won't be bothered. It makes the race go smoother." All eyes were on them and they could feel the judgement digging into their skin. Any confidence they had in their answer withered away and their tone followed suit, growing ever more whispery and wavery. "If... if it's floating, that's where the fish will go... instead of away... y'know...?"

There was a tsk from amidst the group of tiny onlookers. "There aren't any glubbeasts in a wash basin." A few of them laughed. Kids could be so cruel.

Duanwu could feel the heat of a flush across their cheeks and they crinkled their nose in disdain. "T-That's-! I'm used to the ocean!! There are definitely fish in the ocean!" It was obvious they were flustered despite their attempts at regaining their lost self-confidence. "You'd... you'd all understand if you had been there, too."

They cast their gaze back to the water where their wooden dragon boat bobbed gloriously beside the makeshift ones the other children had cobbled together. It was quite a sight, but it brought them little comfort. They were failing fast, already a few onlookers had left, unwilling to waste anymore of the festival on Duanwu's game.

"The boats can't even move by themselves," another child muttered.

"Let's go do something else," said a third.

In short order, Duanwu was alone again, save for their lusus and their ship. Sighing, they plucked the fancy toy from the water and pulled it close to themself, seeking the solace an inanimate object just couldn't bring them. "Maybe next sweep..." they whispered, thumb tracing over the etchings in the wooden surface as they looked back up, gaze catching the countless stars between countless lanterns. What they really wanted, even more than the thrill of a race, was the feeling deep in their chest, the one they remembered from the beach with their neighbors. Duanwu had a hard time remembering the word. Duanwu had a hard time remembering a lot of things sometimes.

Camaraderie was what they appreciated most about the Jubilee, it was what they sought this night, too. And though they'd reached out and been saved by no hand, they looked back to Alternia in time to recall one detail they'd nearly let slip from their mind. The wash basin full of water and rice glimmered like a safety net for their fragile heart. Someone had been kind to them, after all.

The night was ever young and full of possibility and when Duanwu breathed in this time the air tasted like good will and togetherness, though it might've simply been the wonder and excitement re-budding in their chest.

"No," said Dictys, petulant. Ey was curled in the window seat of eir hive, long arms wrapped elegantly about eir knees. As usual, ey was admiring the sky. "There's more important things than parties," ey added. The ship crew had never served under Regina. The mutant had gotten away with the grubs, despite Dictys' efforts. Dictys needed those grubs, and the crew - well. So much of Alternian history was merely blank, and Regina Marian's coup had been one of the few that'd simultaneously erased much of the army, and the army's ships, with it. Dictys could imagine few other trolls alive that had recent enough memory of space, or of building ships - after all, what were they still doing here, when they could be out there?

If you say so, said Mommydaddy, eir frills fluttering. But even so, only Queen Marian can -

"Promote me," Dictys finished. "I know." And of course, Dictys still wanted to be an officer. Ey wanted a name for emself among the stars, with tales of eir exploits so great and so widespread that even the next empress wouldn't dare eject them from the annals of Alternian history. Someday, ey'd be a star. "But - but you were at that chase, Mommydaddy."

Dictys often didn't say the name aloud. It felt so childish, a portmanteau of two already childish words. But what else could ey call them? It was the only name ey'd ever known, and, well, really - Mommydaddy claimed their sense of self had changed when they'd met Dictys. And, in all honestly - Mommydaddy would always be Dictys' lusus. Older and wiser, a shelter.

"You saw all those soldiers and drones. None of them knew what they were doing - they were deterred by children." There'd been a scant number of fairly dedicated younger trolls helping the effort, but none of them had the prowess Dictys had imagined. And, sure, the mutantblood and her weird mind-controlled cult or whatever had been few in number. But it seemed like everyone who followed her was actually in it. Well-trained. They'd certainly escaped into the swamp, and, well. Probably dead wasn't enough. They were trolls, after all. Trolls were a hardy race. That was why their empire had been so expansive.

Dictys emself wasn't even a good soldier. Ey could admit it, okay: Dictys had strengths. Delegation. Organization. Memorization. Knowledge. Strategy. Dictys had a lot of that. Ey'd always thought - well, a leader doesn't need to fight. In a ship, a crew only needs to operate the onboard weaponry. But it took a lot more work to get there, didn't it? What was Dictys supposed to do but learn to do better? Ey needed - ey needed more. Ey needed to be a dedicated fighter emself, so ey could inspire trolls other than just eir lusus, who...well, Dictys didn't want Mommydaddy risking themself any more than they already had.

Well, it's understandable, isn't it? Mommydaddy said, shaking their head, and Dictys frowned. They'd been over this, ey thought - and still Mommydaddy continued. You're a seadweller, born under the noble Laureate. And if you shoot for the moon...

Even now, it hurt to hear the name, and the adage. Dictys scowled and pressed eir face against the window. Sweeps ago, it seemed, ey'd been involved in a gerbil race. It'd been a chance to show off: Dictys always won, because Dictys had been born under a winner's constellation, if you set any stock in the ancient zodiac. Shouldn't eir gerbil have done well, gifted with the same name? Dictys had put so much work into that gerbil. When it'd been important, it'd failed, and ey hadn't gotten to land among the stars as consolation. The grub chase had only been a harrowing sequel to that experience.

"Don't be silly," Dictys mumbled - something ey was only ever vulnerable enough to do in eir lusus' company. "I'm too old for wiggler's tales now."

Here ey could see the Blizzard and the arm of the Quixotic, the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth of the forty-eight signs of the Zodiac - and there, the Quixotic's airship, and above, his moirail. In a few moments, ey wouldn't be able to see the Quixotic through this window any longer, traveling as quickly as they were for the plains. Another ancient hero would sparkle into view. The Harvest Jubilee was almost always on a clear night, so that all forty-eight of the constellations could be within easy view, and especially so in the plains, where there weren't mountains to disturb it for miles. And still, in the back of Dictys' mind, ey knew - that wasn't how the stars were really mapped. Constellations never took galaxies into account. The constellations had been silly pictures made up by ancient Alternians who'd never gotten to see space. Everything seems so static when you're on-planet, Captain Iacoms Querke had always said, with that cocky little smirk that'd made Dictys idolize him.

The Forty-Eight Heraldic Exemplars of Alternia's Goodwill are hardly wiggler's tales, sniffed Mommydaddy. Hasn't the Laureate provided guidance to us both?

The Laureate. The most fearless of the exemplars, who shone ambition from every pore. If the ancient record was to be believed, it'd been the Laureate who'd finally succeeded in launching a vehicle into the outer reaches. Hence the name, of course - what other hero could be as celebrated as the finned fellow who'd launched empresses? The Laureate was a pioneer's constellation, and the twelve stars in their crown were numbered for the twelve days and twelve celebrations of every annual harvest jubilee.

"They were heroes and pictures for an Alternia that didn't understand space, yet," said Dictys, pulling eir hand up to rest between eir head and the window. The glass was cold. Ey fiddled with a setting on the holographic display just beneath the window with eir free hand. There. Warmth gradated into the plexiglas. Dictys and eir Mommydaddy were nearly at the festival site. Dictys could see it - a sudden cluster of light, in the dark of the plains. They'd be fashionably late (they'd missed several days), but tonight more than any night Dictys could say ey'd been attending to eir responsibilities.

Ey tapped eir long black fingernails on the glass, so Mommydaddy could see - well. Mommydaddy couldn't see. But it was the principle that mattered.

"The story of the Blizzard is outdated, and so is her - her existence, as a constellation." Dictys shook eir head. "We're trolls. We understand the outer reaches better than any other species in the universe. We've annihilated every other species we've encountered that understood how to navigate them: none of the stars in the Blizzard were even in the same nebula when they were formed, and they certainly don't share a galaxy now." Of course, the Blizzard was a special case - most of the Forty-Eight had at least a few clusters of stars that were actually close together, and it was even more likely in the auxiliary constellations (which made sense, because they were by and large just noticeable clusters). But in any case, when you were out there...the sky didn't look anything like this one. Every star's position shifted relative to your own, and when you were far, far out there...you could see stars that you couldn't have imagined from down here on Alternia. Laureate One and Laureate Eight were far closer together than any of the stars in the constellation with continuous counts. Only the modern naming scheme - galaxies, nebulae, clusters, stars left unnamed until some intrepid Alternian explorer conquered their systems - made sense of all that. And Alternia had been using it for empresses.

Anyway. Just because they were landlocked, for now, didn't mean they had to forget all they'd learned while they were out there. Every empress erased from history all evidence of the preceding one's name and policies, but they left the stars as mapped as they'd always been. No one could change a discovery, or a triumph. No one would un-conquer a star system just because the troll in charge had changed. That wouldn't at all be pragmatic.

And weren't trolls pragmatic?

I think there's more to it than that. Even in recent years, every troll has spent their wrigglerhood here, Dictys. There's important things to be learned here.

There was Mommydaddy with their lectures again. Dictys had to admit - ey'd learned eir own verbosity at Mommydaddy's figurative knee.

When you're up there - because you will find your way back to the stars - the only trolls you'll know for miles will be your crew. Sure, there'll be missives - space stations - no one knows how Queen Marian's regime will work. But even on space stations...the stars are always changing, and there's little to be learned from conquerors other than what precisely their exploits were. Some of the trolls you'll meet have been trained on different continents entirely - the idea of meeting Queen Marian in person will be a dream, to them. But Alternia is a fixed point. Every troll has lived on Alternia, and every troll can remember how the stars looked from here. Every troll should have at least passing familiarity with the signs of the zodiac - even if they haven't studied them, like we have.

Mommydaddy shook their body out, the closest they could come to clearing their throat when they didn't speak any sort of a vocal language. Even if they don't know the Laureate's story, they know how to trace out the twelve points of the crown. And isn't that important? We're all trolls, Dictys. That unites us above anything.

Dictys had heard it before, of course, but that didn't mean ey always agreed with eir lusus. It was hard to think of constellations as conquerable when they were stretched out across reality as illogically as they were. Why would a troll conquer the Quixotic's pinwheel and his pointed boot, and ignore the Blizzard's glove on the way?

But there were lessons to be learned here, too. The Laureate had succeeded only because they'd been daring, even when they were doing things that seemed absurd and stupid to the doubtless unenlightened trolls all around them. When they'd launched their first rocket at the pink moon, they had been carving out their own path.

Dictys needed to do that, too, if ey wanted any hope at success in a world like this. No one left on Alternia really wanted to conquer like ey did. But ey'd have to create a way. Ey'd have to make eir ships better - ey'd have to carve out staircases to the sky when all Queen Marian wanted to do was build every city on Alternia over and over again in her own image instead of the previous queen's. Maybe ey'd been born in the wrong sweep, or under the wrong empress - but ey'd been born under the right constellation.

When the Laureate's first satellite hadn't reached escape velocity, the astronomers had oohed and ahhed, thinking that their work was done there. The Laureate'd created a new star, they'd all thought, marveling at the way the satellite twinkled brightly in the sky. They hadn't understood that the Laureate wanted to go further - for Alternia's atmosphere to stop being a boundary. The Laureate had innovated. They'd kept going, making more and more inventions, so that trollkind had really been able to build a palace on the pink moon. So that every explorer after Laureate could build another palace on another planet. So that the stars could be populated with real people, laid out how they really existed, rather than with the mythology that the previously planetbound Alternians had contented themselves with.

That was what Dictys had to do, ey thought. Ey needed to make trolls understand that there were better things to do than toil away on Alternia. And to do that, ey had to set an example.

But first, Dictys thought, standing up so ey could exit eir hive. First, ey'd arrived at the New Hemisect City Harvest Jubilee celebration at last. And after the past few perigees...ey'd earned a night of stargazing and relaxation. Maybe ey could go over the leaves of the crown again. It was only one night, and for now, ey could admire the stars as they looked from this tiny, dinky little planet.

Because someday, it really would all be only a memory.

1 Ghouls
2 Magician Arcana
3 saedusk