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Solo 10/10/2014 - Break all the rules

It was always quiet on Mercury, except for when the wind howled through the mountains and blizzards buffeted his city. The barrier helped with that, the blue crackling brighter against the storm’s force. All this was built by someone, thought Babylon Knight, as he climbed towards the top of the mountain, his lantern held high. Someone long ago had first placed the lamps and created the barrier and carved the city out of the mountainside.

Time away from Destiny City had given him a chance to really solidify his perspective on things. So many of his compatriots seemed to think of magic as being this stable thing, like their wonders had just always been where they were and how they were since the dawn of time - but they’d been built, and magic could be adapted and changed and created, even. That was what they’d done at Mistral when they made their upgrade to the rings. That was what he’d done, when he returned Menachem’s starseed to the cauldron and emerged… changed.

Pulling the wick from his lantern, Babylon set to work on a series of lamps that had gone out. He was still not quite sure what their inner mechanism was - were they linked underground? And how were they connected to the barrier? They didn’t function like a string of holiday lights, where if one went out, they all would…

It was strange.

Magic was often incomprehensible, yes.

But it was not immutable.

Camelot had told him that he did not know of any way to find out what sort of knight a Negaverser would be without Chaos’s influence. But that didn’t mean it was impossible - it just meant that no one had done it before. Why would there have been any reason to? From what Babylon knew of the Silver Millenium, it had fallen in such a fashion that no one would have ever needed a device that could do that.

But magic was not immutable, he thought, sliding the wick back into his lantern. Looking up and down, he saw the whole mountainside lit up with evenly-spaced blue globes. It was so easy to imagine his city as eternal, and yet Babylon knew - it had not always been here.

There were no rules keeping him from creating something entirely new, and that thought was thrilling.

He headed down to the bottom of the mountain, a spring in his step. Babylon didn’t know the first thing about magitech. He could make the little forever lanterns, but those weren’t his invention. They were Menachem’s. He didn’t know anything about how they’d been created, and wandering around until a relevant memory hit him seemed utterly foolish. He was new to recovering memories, but he at least knew enough to know he couldn’t force it. Memory was fickle. It came from atmosphere. Sentiment.

Babylon did not know about magitech, but Mistral did, he thought, and somewhere in her disarmed labyrinth she would have the means to build anything he designed. From there, it would just be a matter of making it work…

Well, there was a first time for everything, thought Babylon. He needed to go home and brainstorm.

Solo 10/24/2014 - Save yourself the trouble

To put it roughly, Babylon hauled a** against the blizzard, because it was gross and awful and it sucked but the wind was, fortunately, with him. By the time he reached the city gates and the barrier, he was chilled to the bone - but it was at least ten degrees warmer once he was past the city wall than it had been outside of it. The barrier was spoiling him, he thought. How had he managed before? The city was practically uninhabitable without it…

Which was the point, he realized, shaking snow from his cape. He felt like he had frostbite in his brain, which was surely the only explanation for what kind of moron he was being right now. “You came up here on a mission,” Babylon reminded himself, reaching up to dust snow out of his hair. The mountainside twinkled above him, not a gap to be seen in the rows of lights. Thank Cosmos for small miracles, he thought, hardly even registering how ingrained the swear was into his vocabulary by now - he could focus on the task at hand, instead of general upkeep.

Babylon let himself into the knight’s study, the sconces flaring to life at his touch. It was much the same as he had left it, and it was, to be honest, a little bit lonely without his ancestor. Mistral’s regrets about not having Menachem translate the journal while he still could had him feeling a little bit nostalgic. He could have waited longer to put that starseed into his chest… But then, would everything after that moment have still worked out the same way? Would things with Avalon have escalated the way that they did?

There was no point in worrying about it and what was done was done, he supposed, setting his lantern on the table and going over to the cabinet where his ancestor had stored the glass globes. He wasn’t sure if this would work and they’d be able to use a forever lantern to power the device, but it was the only way he could think of to fulfil Mistral’s request.

He frowned at the shelf - when Babylon had first found it, it had seemed like the supply of globes would last forever. But between making lamps and accidentally breaking lamps, he was starting to run a bit low. He’d have to figure out where to get more later. Maybe there would be a useful memory in time - although that might be counting too much on coincidence.

“You can never count on coincidence,” Babylon said out loud, picking up three of the remaining globes. “Except for when you can.”

Life was weird like that.

He assembled the forever lights as carefully as he could - it was easier now than it had been, since he now had a better sense of how to handle and portion the light. Hopefully these would work for what Mistral needed.

Something else occurred to Babylon, something he decided that he needed to check on before he headed back out into the storm. Mistral had suggested that he look on Earth for a compass - but who was to say that he couldn’t find one here? The study was full of old texts and old gear that no one had touched in centuries, and he had even less of an idea of what to do with now. It might add some time to this trip… but it would save time overall.

He called Mistral up on his ring, since she’d been so adamant about him using the new features. “Hey,” he said, “I’m gonna be a bit longer. I think I might be able to find a compass here if I look hard enough.”

That done, he set to work, pulling open drawers and cabinets and trying to not make too much of a mess. The study was a valuable trove of information, even if he didn’t know how to handle it, and if he had memories of things later, it wouldn’t serve him any good if he’d moved them in the meanwhile. But - there had to be something here, he thought determinedly. The knights of Babylon were mountaineers, scholars. If his ancestor had been making maps, then surely he had a compass. Multiple compasses, even--

Finally, he found one. It was a big old silver thing, pushed to the back of a drawer. It didn’t seem like there was anything magical about it, nor was it particularly fancy - and it was definitely no longer functional, so Babylon didn’t think that it would do him any harm if he took it. The compass’s dial was off its balance point, skewed awkwardly to the side. Something was rattling around on the inside. “You’ll do nicely,” he told it, tucking it into his coat alongside the three forever lights.

“I’m on my way back now,” he told Mistral, heading back out to the square. “If you don’t have that tea you promised ready, I will literally cry.”

Solo 2/14/2015 - Dust to Dust

He met her on the surrounding, just outside the gate to her wonder, and she was carrying a small ceramic urn and a sheaf of photographs and nothing else. He nodded to her and offered her his arm and she took it, so, just like that, they were off.

The lights of Babylon glittered as they always did. The flowers had come into bloom once more, guided by whatever seasonal cycle it was that ruled them, and their sweet scent filled the air. Beside him, he heard Virgo sniffle once. “Where should we go?” he asked, and she looked down at the urn.

“Somewhere we can catch the wind,” said Virgo.

Babylon nodded. “We should probably start climbing,” he said. She nodded, and started ahead of him, like she had something to prove, and he caught up to her at the top of the first staircase.

“I’m fine,” she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Let’s keep going.”

After climbing steadily for half an hour, they reached the topmost point of the city. Virgo sat down on an ancient bench, smoothed her chiton out over her lap, and balanced the urn between her knees. Babylon could tell from the way she breathed through her teeth that she was trying to catch her breath without him knowing she’d ever lost it.

After a long moment, she swallowed visibly. Then, she held the sheaf of photographs out to him. “I printed these out,” said Virgo. “It’s all I have of her. Could you - could you take them? I don’t want them right now.” But I might, someday, was implied.

Babylon nodded and took the photographs from her, glancing at them only briefly before tucking them inside his coat for safe keeping. He’d look later, he thought, and then he’d put them away somewhere safe where not even Arkady would find them. “Thanks,” he said, briefly resting his hand over the photographs.

“Of course,” said Virgo quietly, staring down at the urn. Babylon let his hands go slack at his sides, waiting for her to suggest what should come next, and after a moment she got to her feet. “There’s not much ash,” she said. “She was… she was very small. I - I think that there’s enough wind here.”

She held the urn out to him - now that he saw it closer up, he noticed it had the name Orianna Arma and a pair of dates engraved on the lid.

Their daughter had died on Christmas eve.

Babylon pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth and let it fall. He unscrewed the lid of the urn and uncapped the inner compartment. There was barely more than a few pinches of ash there, and he held it out to her. “Together?” he suggested, but Virgo shook her head.

“No, thank you,” she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d rather you do it.”

He wondered if he should say something, a prayer, or - but Virgo seemed to be barely holding together as it was and he didn’t want to make this go on for any longer than it needed to. In one clean motion, Babylon upended the urn into his naked palm, made a fist around the ashes, and held them out for the wind to take.

It was over quickly. Babylon lowered his hand, closed the urn, and picked up his dropped glove. He looked over at Virgo. She pressed her lips together into a tight line, and then said, “You can keep the urn if you’d like.”

“Let’s leave it here somewhere,” said Babylon. She wouldn’t like it if he suggested her old home, he thought. “The crypt,” he said. “With Menachem’s lantern.” (He’d build that statue someday.)

Virgo looked away for a moment, and then she nodded very quickly and said, “Yes.”

The walk downhill went quicker than the walk up. “I’ve never been to the crypt before,” Virgo said in the tunnel, walking a bit closer to him than she had previously. “I-” she began, and fell silent again as they reached the chamber. Babylon extended his free arm towards her and, when she didn’t move away, let it rest around her shoulders.

“Here,” he said, steering her towards the empty alcove where he’d lain Menachem’s lantern.

“That’s-” said Virgo, pressing a hand to her lips.

“Yeah,” said Babylon, setting the urn down beside the shattered lantern. Virgo inched closer to him, and he settled his cape around her shoulders. “Let’s - I know somewhere we can go sit down for a while.”

“I’d like that,” she said, so he took her up to the house that had been Menachem’s. In the foyer, Virgo paused and looked up the stairs for a long time, and then followed him through to the dining room. Babylon could guess what she was thinking about: there as a bedroom upstairs, untouched by wind and weather, all made up for the little boy she’d had to give up a lifetime ago.

“I’ll go get us something to drink,” he said, and came back with a bottle of wine from the seemingly-unending cellar, and two glasses from the kitchen. He poured for both of them, small helpings to start - some attempt at pacing that he knew would likely be abandoned after the first glass.

“Thank you,” said Virgo, taking the glass from him. She eyed it suspiciously, took a tiny sip - her usual weirdness around food, Babylon supposed. “I remember this wine,” she said. “This is a thousand years old. How is it not vinegar?”

“Some kind of magical warding on the cellar,” shrugged Babylon, picking up his own glass. Menachem had been a more clever magician than he could ever hope to be, working spells far beyond the capabilities he had. Perhaps everyone had been stronger in the Silver Millenium. Perhaps it was something he could learn to do if he took the time. He doubted Virgo would much want to talk about the subject.

Virgo took another sip. “I - she - Aria used to drink this with him on visits home,” she said, and then added, “I should stop talking about her like she’s me.” She studied her glass for a moment, then took a longer swallow from it. “I’ve been going to therapy. Private sessions, and group, three times a week with soldiers recovering from battlefield injuries, and we talk about how you recover from war. How you move on from it and go back to being a civilian - well, they talk. I don’t say much.”

She finished her glass of wine and held it out to him, and he poured her more this time. “I wanted Ori to be Aria’s happy ending, like she’d be getting something back that she couldn’t keep last time,” she said, “But I wasn’t thinking about me at all. About what a happy ending would be for me - and it was killing me.”

She took another sip, and Babylon was concerned about her drinking too quickly but he also didn’t want to stop her yet. “I’m glad you’re thinking about that now,” he said.

Virgo smiled, a little shyly. “I met someone in my therapy group,” she said. “I like him a lot. I - I think that after this, I’m not going to be Soldier Virgo anymore. I’m just going to focus on being Elke.”

Babylon, who had never thought he would advise anyone in favor of permanent dereliction of duty, nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That sounds good for you. You should do that, but - keep in touch, okay? My mom likes you.”

“My mom likes you, too,” blushed Virgo. She glanced at her glass, and then back to him. “Thank you for doing this today. For helping me.”

“Of course,” said Babylon, refilling his glass. Virgo looked like she was at peace, and if that was the case, then so was he.

Solo 3/1/2015 - Empty Nesting

He stared at the For Sale sign on the lawn for a long time, breathing in the realness of it. Of course his mother had mentioned her plans on the phone, but it was so much more concrete to be here, in front of the house he grew up in, faced with a sign with the name and number of a local realtor. His mother had moved away in the dark future, too. He’d sent her and Leah to safety and made no motion to contact them as the world became more dangerous. The only thing that would save them was if no one knew they were of as much knightly blood as he was.

The future was in motion, he reminded himself. It had already changed. He had no alethiometer in the world he’d seen in his dreams, no memory of a lost child with Virgo. He’d made decisions based on the world he’d seen that already differed from decisions he’d made in that world. By the mere fact of their existing, the dreams could not come true.

His sister poked her head out of the front door. “Are you just going to stand out there all night and be sad?” Leah asked. “Come on, Finn.”

He followed her, stopping in the hall to look into the living room. His father’s chair was gone, but of course it was. It had been ruined with blood. Stranger was that all the rest of the living room furniture was gone as well, replaced with pieces that were not his parents’ (well, his mother’s, he supposed) style and could only have come from the real estate agent trying to sell the house. To his right, the french doors to his father’s study were closed, the room dark.

“Finn,” said Leah from the kitchen doorway, drawing out the terminal N. “Are you having an existential crisis or something?”

He joined his mother and sister in the dining room, and Leah took the opportunity for a captive audience to chatter about how all of her classes were going at DCU. Finn didn’t remember talking with his mother half as much about his classes (when he’d been taking them), but then again, family dinners had never really been an enforced thing when he was a freshman. Now they were, just in time for his mother to pack up and move to Florida.

Not that Finn could blame her - his grandparents weren’t getting any younger, and there was very little reason for her to stay in Destiny City, besides, well, him. Which was not a very good point against a whole column checkmarked get the hell out.

“When are you going to bring Arkady around so we can meet her?” Gwen asked as Finn and Leah cleared the dinner dishes. Finn had been hoping to get through the whole night without that coming up, but no such luck.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check her schedule? Maybe we can go out somewhere,” he said. Bringing Arkady by the house just seemed like a terrible idea. She’d probably go into flashbacks of killing his father and have a complete meltdown, and Finn wasn’t willing to risk that.
“Alright,” said Gwen. She craned her neck to look into the kitchen, and Finn turned around to see what she was looking at - Leah, headphones on, loading the dishwasher while simultaneously playing air guitar on a serving platter.

“Look,” said Gwen, “I’ve been unsure of how to bring this up with you, but I’ve been in touch with Aysel - your friend Elke’s mother?”

Finn looked back to his mother so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Sorry?” he squeaked.

“I know about Orianna,” said his mother, surprisingly calm. “We don’t have to talk about this, I just wanted you to know that I know.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” replied Finn, feeling selfish. He’d been hoping his mother never find out at all - but so much for that. Children were supposed to bring their parents joy, weren’t they? As far as he could tell, the only thing he was bringing his mother lately was misery, and he’d gotten his father killed.

“Thank you for dinner,” said Finn, swallowing dryly. He’d done right by his ancestor, surely - but now, he wished Menachem were still around to give advice on how to do right by his parents.