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Hours stolen to sleep were as rare as ever, all the more as the Guard were called on to superhuman lengths spent on watch. Thraen, at least, already had years of practice. When he did sleep, finally laying himself down, neither stress nor hunger impeded it. Sleep was a switch, dreamless and trained. He'd read the studies long ago, and was well inured to polyphasic sleep to improve the prolonged, sustained activity indispensable to helping the Resistance.

But the lower end of that was 45 minutes at the least.

The familiar weight and feel, a hundred thousand comforts before in hours of days put to dust, came strange to bring ember back into the darks behind Quenton's eyes. Benediction, welcome and name all a prayer came soft from behind the blanket before the owner of the voice emerged a moment later, "Faust"

The old wool, as wool was warm wet or dry, was pulled down to shoulders and long legs pulled up to fold-sit and create a hopefully inviting lap if there was time. creepy-a** ex-roommate... Alois. News.

So oft refers to him.

"Of course, " Quenton coughed, clearing lungs of sleep. "Did Kairatos punch tar again? He won't have much feeling in his hands if he burns them too many more times. "

The words range hollow, stones dropped in a deep well echoing up their passing, "Mercy killing. 'Mercy'. Rome could afford no tribune like to Kairatos for Bischofite. ”

The time for mercies was long, long before. That time was dead, and they still were forced to play their parts for empty seats and empty playbill. "Traps take time and careful planning. If he will heed advice, I will find time to speak to ears not black. Your feet need not do all the running. When he is from the hospital, I can come to his bower."

I cannot visit him in it. I will not trouble a troubled mind and lessen her efficiency with shadows of the past.

Chariklo. The name had come up in the years here and there, an aid in tough spots. A necessary evil and bedmate of the Resistance. The Mirror feed us cyanide with every meal. I wonder which is worse, in the end. Dying early of complete starvation, or of the poison later on. But Alliances must be made. Carefully managed, we profit. He carefully stroked his left hand into the black fur, leaving the gap of missing digit o'er scars around star. It worked out rather well, still expert petting without causing discomfort.
"Two birds with one stone." His other hand lifted to massage bridge of nose, trying all the more to drive off sleep and stimulate some function of strategy.

"Let me run it by you first to make sure I'm not missing something in just waking up. Chariklo wants to Shadow, fine, her mirror walking could bring us close in to the suburbs faster than full-sewer creep and past the outlying sentries. Once in, take the *combines between the Chelsea and the Meridian CSO outfalls- there's still no patrols or surveillance there. Between a Mirror eternal, Myself and you, we can take ourselves a General. Generals will know places Bischofite walks these last two months, probably to avoid him themselves. "

"Once we have his brooding turf, Kairatos and I...whoever else, can bivouac it a handful of days getting there. We can try drawing him out- I can go topside and get on camera, I can buy you some Friskies at a minimart. Word will get around that Quenton Marinus was seen in the suburbs...I'm on their watch list. So near, he'll come. Its just a matter of what he'll be packing and making sure we plan better. Coordinated magic effects would do best...if we could stun-lock Bischofite, Kairatos can bury that gladius from crown to crotch. The first magic would have to be someone else, he knows how mine works, but after that its all timing the cooldown of that magic and my vines."

I imagine the Mirror needs no more permission than the Negaverse when it comes to corruptions, even if I've not seen or heard of it personally. And they'll have learned their lesson, bless Gunn for that surety. The wise wouldn't corrupt one of us now without permission and want of it. "In case of a Sovereign indeed. "

The rattle start and then engine running on the strong purr had a visible effect where most things never did- Quenton's shoulders unset, features relaxing from severe impassive to a worn grave effigy. He closed his eye, stroking hand slowly, softly into the revealed extra fluff. His second hand came down to rejoin regular administrations while indulging. Two hands.

"As much as others think it not worth the effort, he strains supplies and wounds far too many. And dealing with him is drawing energy better spent elsewhere. ...but if Kairatos is going to be so fixated, maybe a riding of Mars in force could be mustered. Thrice blessed Themiscyra, dealing with him on so regular a basis. Reason must be something innoculated against in the ruins of Kairatos. " He let the final commentary lie for a while, preferring to indulge more in ample fluff and cat massage. whisker watch alert...

It took a good five minutes before he finally replied, "Summer is a season of plenty, I eat. There's not a lot of fat to dandelion and crab apple, unfortunately. You feel a little rickety yourself, old friend. " He cupped a hand over Faust's back haunch, wiggling it lightly in jest like a chair not quite solid. My BMI must be 2% if I'm lucky. I probably could get nutrition from Friskies at this point. What if it doesn't work....any of it. What then? I should see if the Watchers can pass out sandalwood oil or incense. It has been years. Scent is old memory. Maybe it could pause him long enough, to catch it on the wind. That may take longer than anything else. No use playing a single angle. Never a single angle.

Pointing out the definition of 'weed' as being so broad to include any plant undesirable in a particular situation, even roses and apple trees if they were in the wrong part of the garden, was tumid oratory. Faust did not care, and it subverted the point, which Quenton understood perfectly well. "At least any strikes against the camps must go through the Guard. "

Is the Guard more numerous than the Shadows or the Mainstay? I don't remember. Not right now, anyway. But it is a sobering consideration. May it never come to pass. The growth of pessimism over the years made it hard to believe in such sentiment or prayer. Not just hard- Quenton didn't believe it at all.

"I found some Saturniidae cocoons, I think polyphemus. Once I was up, I was going to work on degumming and processing the cocoons into wild silk for the medical. Maybe 25 cocoons on a large oak. A third of an ounce? The fine thread can go for stitching and the rolag for clothes. Maybe I can ask Hvergelmir if she'd be willing to do the carding and spinning. " The knight was much faster at it than he was. Whether of practice or talent (with a weapon like hers), who knew.

The roo kicks to his hands were adorable, earning a sleepy, almost expressive squeeze of eye in appreciation. Falling asleep was plainly out of purview (purrview, har), Faust delivering business and asking after it in turn. It was necessary to be up. Quenton scooped the contents of his lap, blanket and Mauvian all, into his arms and stood. It was not so long a walk to the great common and the food provisions and cooks of the canteen there. "Very well. A weedless meal. Have you seen Hvergelmir today? Is she out on the Guard?"