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Most of the danger to those on the side of Order came from others who claimed the same allegiance. That was Camlann's conclusion, anyway--he could count on one hand the number of times he'd even seen a Negaverse officer, but it'd take two to accurately depict the number of times a knight had attempted to kill him.

Granted. Most of those attacks were Megiddo. She was a special sort of demented. She'd probably get along well with the worst of the Negaverse, or maybe he was biased.

Anyway, so, he was out walking because he liked the exercise, and the air was cool and sweet, and he just liked being able to look up towards the sky and know that somewhere out there--even if he couldn't sense it--there was Saturn, spinning, cool and timeless. It was removed from the chaos, clamor, and indignity of the world, and that was... nice.

He rounded a corner and almost ran into a telephone pole. Slightly beyond the telephone pole was a familiar Lieutenant. "Quartz," he said, cocking his head to the side. "I would say it's a pleasure, but unfortunately it is not. What are you doing?"

"Squire," corrected Camlann with a nod of his head. He watched Quartz waver on his feet, but didn't move to catch him. "It's Squire Camlann now." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards--it was a little funny, wasn't it, their switched situations?

He supposed it was unlikely that purification would've ever been touted for someone like Quartz, who had already taken a running leap into the kool-aid last time Camlann had seen him. Sort of. That was a foggy time in his memory, more because he didn't want to remember the way he'd been after his promotion to Captain. Now it was like... a blissful un-memory. He remembered Jana's face, but nothing else. It was pictures without context, and he wanted it to stay that way. "I purified," he said.

It didn't bother him so much that none of the Negaverse seemed to have noticed. That was for the best--he had no desire to be hunted down, and less desire to have someone try to bring him back to where he'd been before. Captain was a title he'd gladly give up on.

Unfortunately, it did mean he had very little context for how one handled re-meeting one's former subordinates. Did you offer a handshake? Camlann wasn't sure Quartz had the physical coordination to handle staying on his feet, holding onto his energy collection, and shaking his hand. He cocked his head to the side and said, "Are you intoxicated?"

Can't be? That was patently ridiculous, because he was actually one hundred percent purified. It was interesting; as Melanite, he had only patrolled because the other option was pain, and pain was inconvenient. He transformed and took walks for fun now. It wasn't a chore. "I am," he said, firmly.

Desperation was all that had led him to accept Castor's offer, a fear of what was to come. It had only worked because he'd spent so much time thinking about it, because he'd wanted this freedom so very badly. No more expectations! No more fear. Now wasn't the time to proselytize, though (as if he'd ever intended to). "It is fine," he said. "I doubt they have even noticed." His connections had been useful, he was sure. He remembered being encouraged, no, ordered to seed doubt and distrust towards the forces of Order. If it'd borne fruit, he'd never seen it. "They can only find me when I am like this. And I have many ways to become... not this."

He narrowed his eyes, and thought: this was a good time to ask a question he'd been mulling over for quite some time. "You lost your memories of your human life as well," he said, slowly. "In that, we are similar. Have you yet recovered anything from before your corruption?"

Camlann shook his head. "I was fully aware of what I did when I did it--which puts me several steps ahead of you, I believe."

The Negaverse certainly could try to get him back. They might even succeed in recorrupting him, at first. But Camlann knew there was a place out there that was his down to its very soul, an entire ocean which bore his name, and he would not return to being lord of nothing but dust. He'd kill himself first. "Avalon's are returning," he said, offhand. She was a special case, he supposed. Babylon had said so. "She remembers more every day. But something, I suppose, is better than nothing." He missed nothing about being Irinei Lazarev, except maybe the money. He did well enough without a decade of gallery sales that he could shrug even that off.

"My name is Camlann. Use it." After that instruction, he paused, but only for a moment. Quartz's insistence upon the Negaverse being able to find Camlann again if he didn't want to be found was insulting. It supposed many things that simply weren't true. "I doubt they care I'm gone, so my return and apology would be asking for pain rather than preventing it," he pointed out. "If you want to tell them and prove me wrong, then I will not stop you. But I'll not willingly return to a mob of screaming psychopaths."

Lieutenants couldn't teleport. Neither could Camlann, technically, if his ability to transmit himself to Saturn every so often was discounted. If he wanted to ask Quartz anything, there was really nothing Quartz could do to stop him, especially not in his inebriated state. It would be spitting on the kindness of coincidence to let Quartz go now... "Your name. Before you were Quartz. What was it?"

Dionysia. It didn't suit Quartz at all, which saddened Camlann for reasons that he wasn't going to examine too deeply. Whether Quartz knew it or not, or cared or not, he was inclade. Which meant. Camlann didn't know, but it meant something.

"Prince Castor," said Camlann. "Senshi of hail." It'd been the work of mere moments, though at the time the frozen pain had seemed to stretch on and on and on as the senshi's floral crystal had burned out every vestige of Chaos in his heart. Unfortunately, not all the darkness, but in the end that didn't matter. "I attacked him. He offered a way out."

Camlann's voice dropped, casual. "You can come back, you know," he said. "Avalon did. She was a General. She killed for the Negaverse, even other Generals. Ask about Bischofite, sometime." Astrophyllite had told him about it, way back when they'd first met. On their first meeting. "There are people who would protect you. Like they protect me, and her." The Negaverse was a gang, a mob, screaming for the end of something good and natural--for the end of the stars, that they all should flicker out and die for good. Now that he knew his birthright, Camlann would never allow that to happen.

"Are you going to report me, Quartz?" It didn't particularly bother Camlann if he did. Presumably someone would notice eventually.

"I doubt she is as all-knowing as you think her," said Camlann. "I am not the first to leave. I will not be the last." It wasn't the way it sounded, it wasn't really a prediction. Babylon kept in the loop more than Camlann did, but he heard enough. Castor was out there. If Cosmos was real, she'd be out there too, and those two couldn't be the only senshi with the power of purification.

Believe it or not, he wasn't actually there to torment the lieutenant. He was an opportunist, but discomfort didn't titillate him. Not in people weaker than he. If he were to be presented with Megiddo in pain, he'd laugh, but this was different. Quartz was pathetic. "That's fine," he said. The conjunction crunched through his mouth awkwardly, the soft sound of the aa sound mangled in its close proximity to consonant jungles. "It will be interesting to see if they can find me." He could step into shadow and blend, and he could see his enemies coming through whatever cover they tried to hide behind. The gauntlet on his left hand was untested as a weapon, but... it would do, surely.

"I will not tell you to think on what I have said," said Camlann. "But I hope you will be well all the same."

Camlann couldn't think of a response to that. He nodded, though--how to say he had no real intention of keeping his head down? Or making friends? His wonder wanted him to pick up where he'd left off once, long ago, in the Silver Millennium. If that was what it wanted, he'd give it... of his own choice. "Thank you," he said, finally. "Get home safe."

And don't get drunk again before going on patrol, he thought as he turned on his heel. Not everyone is as kind as me.