Camlann had been to his wonder tonight, thought Babylon, as he closed in on the location. There was no telling what he had witnessed or found there, and he knew from experience that wonders were not always fun and games. They could be tremendously stressful places to visit - ancestors were not known for being welcoming, and past lives were not known for being un-traumatic.
Which probably made this… comfort food? Or perhaps a bribe. Babylon steeled himself for whatever might lie in store for him when he found Camlann. He expected him to be… unsettled, perhaps. Unnerved, even. But he doubted that Camlann was comfortable enough with him to show anything approximating true distress or - whatever. Something.
What kind of wonder even was Camlann, he wondered as he waited. He always imagined Saturn as being terribly gloomy based on the nature of its knights, but other than that, well… He shrugged. It was a mystery.
Shibrogane
Camlann returned to Earth on time by nothing more romantic than a complete ******** accident. It wasn’t as if his uniform came with a watch--that would be too useful--he’d simply guessed that perhaps enough time had passed and returned. The whole ordeal put him on Earth twenty minutes before midnight. He took a moment to grab his wallet, without stopping to tell Iouri he was home, because of course he wasn’t. It was a waystop.
Anyway, he stalked towards the cupcake ATM with a formal little nod at Babylon. “Spasibo,” he said. “Has Avalon… Do you speak any Russian yet? It will be easier.” It would be, but he doubted it. They both knew that Arkady preferred to spend time on her Wonder, safeguarding it as best she knew how. The spells were much like early Party-era generators: strong when they worked, but prone to failure. Specialized knowledge was required to maintain them. She’d taken to it like a fish to water. Her Wonder’s native magic followed her whims in the same way Camlann’s did.
“Which do you want,” he asked, because he had promised the man cupcakes.
Anyway, he stalked towards the cupcake ATM with a formal little nod at Babylon. “Spasibo,” he said. “Has Avalon… Do you speak any Russian yet? It will be easier.” It would be, but he doubted it. They both knew that Arkady preferred to spend time on her Wonder, safeguarding it as best she knew how. The spells were much like early Party-era generators: strong when they worked, but prone to failure. Specialized knowledge was required to maintain them. She’d taken to it like a fish to water. Her Wonder’s native magic followed her whims in the same way Camlann’s did.
“Which do you want,” he asked, because he had promised the man cupcakes.
Babylon had been considering the cupcake machine suspiciously when Camlann stalked out of the darkness. He knew, intellectually, that there was nothing fresher about cupcakes sitting in a bakery case than there was about cupcakes in an automatic dispenser, but there was something about it that he still wasn’t sure he trusted. Maybe it was a negaverse plot to gather energy! Or… maybe it was just an exceptionally twee bit of pastry coupled with an exceptionally twee bit of marketing.
“Uhh, carrot-cake,” he said, after giving the question a bit of thought. It seemed very difficult to mess up carrot cake, but he was also sure that tonight would surprise him in one way or another. “And not really, I’m sorry.”
Arkady had regained her Russian, of course, even as her more personal and concrete memories remained firmly out of reach. She’d taught Finn a few words, but not enough to be of any use. “I know spasibo and pozhaluista and privét and Moio sudno na vozdušnoy poduške polno ugrey.” The last of which was utterly useless and he was sure Arkady had gotten off the internet for the sake of a joke.
“How long were you at your Wonder for?” he asked, watching as the machine dispensed their cupcakes. “You seem a little… wan.”
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“If it is midnight, I was there for several hours,” said Camlann, feeding the machine his card and punching in his selections with a little more verve than strictly required to make the machine dispense the cupcakes.
He passed Babylon’s carrot cake over, and then slouched his way over to one of the nearby tables in the dark sidewalk seating area of a closed cafe. “I have questions,” he said. This much was probably obvious to Babylon, but that was a risk Camlann wasn’t going to take. The man was denser than a fruitcake, even if he was easy on the eyes. It took him a few minutes of dedicated prodding at his cupcake to find an agreeable angle with which to approach it, but mostly because he was trying to translate what he’d seen and heard from Russian to English.
Once he had it all sorted, the questions came hard and fast. “What is the Code? Who is Gethin? Are all knights executioners? I require answers, and there is no one to give them.”
The cupcake sat forlornly in its open box, a single bite taken out of it.
He passed Babylon’s carrot cake over, and then slouched his way over to one of the nearby tables in the dark sidewalk seating area of a closed cafe. “I have questions,” he said. This much was probably obvious to Babylon, but that was a risk Camlann wasn’t going to take. The man was denser than a fruitcake, even if he was easy on the eyes. It took him a few minutes of dedicated prodding at his cupcake to find an agreeable angle with which to approach it, but mostly because he was trying to translate what he’d seen and heard from Russian to English.
Once he had it all sorted, the questions came hard and fast. “What is the Code? Who is Gethin? Are all knights executioners? I require answers, and there is no one to give them.”
The cupcake sat forlornly in its open box, a single bite taken out of it.
If Babylon knew exactly what the Code was in a way to succinctly explain it in under four hours, he would be a much happier man. Since he did not, however, have a concise answer, he decided to work backwards. “Not all knights are executioners, no,” he said - and assumed that he could now tick off what Camlann’s historical role was. “Different posts have different jobs - does it trouble you that yours might have been, uh, that?”
But moving on. He frowned. “I’m not sure who Gethin is. Depending on the context, he might be your past life or your ancestor or someone you knew in a past life. Did he seem present? Did he address you directly? Or did you see him as part of a vision - or did a vision address you as Gethin? I need a little more information before I can really narrow things down.”
Which brought him back to the code. Babylon peeled the wrapper carefully from his cupcake and broke the bottom off, as any self-respecting Buzzfeed reader would tell you was the proper way to eat a cupcake. “The code is, um, sort of a magical construct? Like - it’s basically an ancient artificial intelligence.” The only thing separating the Code from Hal 9000 was a difference of power source, honestly. Babylon had the tendency to regard it with a bit of suspicion - but he wasn’t sure he wanted to pass that along, since it was completely unfounded.
“I don’t want to say that knights serve the code?” he said uncertainly. “Because we don’t. We serve ourselves and our Wonders. But the Code is kind of like, the personification of some kind of galactic power source? Man, I don’t ******** know, and I’ve had a conversation with the damn thing. It’s like magical energy with a mouth attached. Don’t worry about it. Paying attention to it is kind of optional.”
He licked icing off the edge of his cupcake-turned-sandwich. “I mean, here I am, a knight for all of four years, and I’ve got no idea what it is. It didn’t even reactivate itself until like a year ago and it’s done ******** all since then.”
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Camlann shrugged. There wasn’t anyone left on his Wonder to tell him he was doing it wrong, so really the whole thing was up to him. If he didn’t want to become an executioner or kill people, he didn’t have to. All he had to do was what made him happy… whatever that was. “He spoke to me,” he said. “He was tall. Dark. Had a…” He reached over and plucked at Babylon’s cape. “He said… they would find the body.” Frowning, Camlann broke a piece off his cupcake and examined it, just for something to do. “He said, Melany, you go too far.”
Melany was pretty clearly whoever Camlann had been in the past. Excellent. “I will bow to your experience,” he said, half a smirk disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Avalon says you are descendant. That is different from… the other. How?” It was pretty clear that there were no ancient ghosts hanging around Camlann’s wonder--he’d not explored the whole thing, but he’d practically stolen something from there. The card in the breast pocket of his duster, forgotten until then, was abruptly very heavy.
He removed it, and set it face-down on the table. The little thwip of paper-hitting-metal reassured him, for some reason. “You know of these things, Babylon? Because you have been here a long time.”
Melany was pretty clearly whoever Camlann had been in the past. Excellent. “I will bow to your experience,” he said, half a smirk disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Avalon says you are descendant. That is different from… the other. How?” It was pretty clear that there were no ancient ghosts hanging around Camlann’s wonder--he’d not explored the whole thing, but he’d practically stolen something from there. The card in the breast pocket of his duster, forgotten until then, was abruptly very heavy.
He removed it, and set it face-down on the table. The little thwip of paper-hitting-metal reassured him, for some reason. “You know of these things, Babylon? Because you have been here a long time.”
“Some retainer of yours, then,” said Babylon quietly, considering the information as it was presented to him. He hadn’t set out to become the past life whisperer, but the job had chosen him by virtue of experience. “I can’t start to guess at what he was referring to.” A murder a thousand years past, probably. That was a heavy burden to be saddled with, and his only hope was that by the time Aleksy figured out the full story, he was in a position to make peace with it.
Babylon smiled, not sure if Melanite had meant bowing to his experience as a joke or not. Either way, he didn’t actually do it, which was all very well and good - for the better, really. “Descended and reincarnated, those are the two distinctions,” he said. “Reincarnated is… I suppose what you are. It means your starseed is the same as the last knight of Camlann. It went to the Cauldron at the end of the Silver Millennium and got spun back around and wound up in you.” He paused short of telling Aleksy that his past life was him, even if on a technical level, because he still wasn’t sure of the specifics - and he had a suspicion that Aleksy, more than most knights, would have serious problems if his past life was not to his liking.
“Descended knights,” he explained, “Like Avalon, or me, well, Avalon’s a special case, never mind, but for me - the last knight of my line’s starseed never made it back to the Cauldron. If my starseed had a life before this one, I don’t know about it and it’s closed off from me. Instead, my ancestor was still there. He’d stood a vigil for a thousand years, waiting for a knight to return… and when I was ready, I had to take his starseed back to the Cauldron myself.”
His eyes flittered to the card. “Um,” said Babylon. “No. I have no idea what that is. If that’s what you were asking. Sorry.”
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“Reincarnated,” Camlann parrotted. He tapped his fingers on the table. The word didn’t parse, probably not because he hadn’t known it before. Sometimes they just didn’t click right away. It’d come, he was sure. Things did, somehow. “I understand.” He wasn’t sure he did, actually--if he was somehow sharing his starseed with this past-life woman, did that mean--his head spun, and he planted both feet firmly on the ground in the hopes that the vertigo would chill out if he did.
It didn’t. He shook his head, and turned his attention to his cupcake. It held no unfortunate and possibly-distressing revelations for him. “This is unfortunate for your ancestor,” he said. “A thousand years is a long time to wait.” Camlann narrowed his eyes in Babylon’s general direction, more of a question than an accusation. Had the past-Babylon been conscious of all that time? Had he seen the decay of his protectorate? Camlann thought that might have been preferable to discovering that his soul was recycled.
“I know this,” he said, indicating the card. “It is for a game. I liked it. I took it.” And that was all he needed, really. Everything on that Wonder was his, anyway. “You take things from your Wonder also. Avalon showed me.” The glowing little orb.
It didn’t. He shook his head, and turned his attention to his cupcake. It held no unfortunate and possibly-distressing revelations for him. “This is unfortunate for your ancestor,” he said. “A thousand years is a long time to wait.” Camlann narrowed his eyes in Babylon’s general direction, more of a question than an accusation. Had the past-Babylon been conscious of all that time? Had he seen the decay of his protectorate? Camlann thought that might have been preferable to discovering that his soul was recycled.
“I know this,” he said, indicating the card. “It is for a game. I liked it. I took it.” And that was all he needed, really. Everything on that Wonder was his, anyway. “You take things from your Wonder also. Avalon showed me.” The glowing little orb.
Babylon nodded, feeling mildly awkward. “It was a very long time, yes,” he said, but at least it was over now. Melanite had always been thoroughly disinterested in anything to do with past lives, and he was sure that Camlann probably didn’t want to hear all about how most of Menachem’s contemporaries had been reborn, or any of the ensuing drama with Virgo. None of that was relevant to him.
“Yes,” he said, watching the card. “I do take things. I didn’t - I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t have taken the card. Everything at our Wonders is ours, theoretically, and we’re free to do with them as we like.” (He thought, for a moment, of Gunn and the homeworld she’d set aflame. He wondered how she was doing in Japan - well, hopefully.)
“The lights are…” He frowned. He’d just given one to Chariklo, and so didn’t have one handy to demonstrate with. “I’ll get you one another time,” he said. “They’re pretty useful.”
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“I don’t care,” said Camlann, a phrase he’d grown to have a lot of familiarity with. He frowned. “They are yours. Do what you like.”
He tapped the edge of the card on the table. “Those are the questions,” he said. “Thank you for your help.” He arched an eyebrow. Was there anything Babylon needed?
He tapped the edge of the card on the table. “Those are the questions,” he said. “Thank you for your help.” He arched an eyebrow. Was there anything Babylon needed?
“Uh-huh,” said Babylon, sort of at a loss for words. When Camlann raised his eyebrow like that, he looked like Tate of all people, and it had him momentarily flabbergasted. His life was just… eternally full of Russian redheads. He should make peace with that.
He forced himself to smile after a moment, hoping the pause hadn’t become obvious. “Well,” said Babylon. “Thank you for the cupcake, and don’t be a stranger, okay? You’ve got friends. You’ve got a support network.”
