Zircon had been too late, far too late. The Funhouse was gone, and with it many of the precious resources she required to sate her curiosity. Too many questions left unanswered, and it festered in the back of her mind, an unrelenting itch that no distraction could sooth. They had learned so much in only a matter of days, what secrets could they have gleaned given a fortnight, a month? How many starseeds could they have fed that Eternal before she popped? Zircon knew now that her glowing tattoos left her somehow immune to Chaos's presence, but would she warp and youma-fy given enough souls, or would she simply expire? It occurred to her that Babylon was probably struck with a similar affliction, a side-effect of his own meddling with starseeds and space cauldrons. A pity, truly--she would have rather him see the truth at some point and come to the right cause. Now, she feared, he would never get the chance.

The captain scuffed her boots in the dust of the wreckage of the fairgrounds, as if returning to the desiccated corpse of the operation would somehow yield a sliver of truth. But there was nothing to pick from the bones to sate her carrion hunger, and lingering around the smell of blood and bodies and failure left her with a strange tightness in her throat. She would find no satisfaction here, only questions, always more questions, and with cautious steps she rounded the final corridor, completing her circuit. At the end of the hallway lay a darkened doorway, the threshold smeared with blood as if part of a ritual. Zircon's eyes found the empty sockets of a puppet and she pursed her lips, turning away.

She had warned Hvergelmir, hadn't she? She had tried to be the voice of reason, and yet it always felt like the universe itself conspired to ruin her efforts. Zircon couldn't be held responsible for what had happened, regrettable as it was. It wasn't her fault the Cosmos Knight hadn't just taken her offer. It wasn't her fault that everyone else was being unreasonable.

But enough of that. There were other considerations to be had.

Zircon stepped forward and her heels found purchase against the crystalline floors of Negaverse subspace, the sound of her footsteps sharp clicks in contrast with the dull wooden thuds of the Funhouse. The faint glow of crystal sconces were a familiar sight, but the dark halls offered her little more comfort than the carnival grounds themselves. How could she be relieved, knowing that these walls housed traitors just as easily as she? Astrophyllite, Kadyrelite...and with the number of escapees from the reports, Zircon had to surmise there were others as well. The notion wore heavy on her thoughts--how had they fallen so far to recruit those with souls as weak as such that would sympathize with the White Moon? Were the Generals and General-Kings truly so strapped for recruits? Astrophyllite, tall as she'd been, could have been no older than sixteen and certainly in no state to fight a war. What had happened to the days when each officer had been personally hand-picked, selected for their strengths and groomed to be the perfect agent.

She paced the floors of her once-sacred hideaway, her brow furrowed in throught. The Negaverse truly was in a sorry state, if it needed to run around scavenging for scraps to weave into soldiers.

But what good was Zircon, if she was just going to stand around and brood about it? The captain scrunched her face into a pout, crossing her arms. If she wasn't willing to mobilize herself, then her own lack of diligence was a treason all its own. She needed to step into her role as Captain more, not only to maintain collections but to rally the troops and snuff out weakness. There was nothing to be done about those who had already been drafted except to accept them thoroughly into the fold, cleanse them of their impurities, and make them the Agents they were meant to be. And if they continued to show resistance...well, there was always room for more foot-soldiers.

Zircon crinkled her nose and thought of home, quick to shed her captain's skin for something a little more low-key. Suri had much to think about, and even more to plan--surely, the Generals would be eager to read her thoughts.

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