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Ever a creature of habitual busyness, Ilmari loved precious few things less than having a list of tasks he needed to do. Any that required him to be in Negaspace were a minor inconvenience, true, since he needed someone of at least a Captain’s or Super’s rank to get him to Negaspace. On the other hand, as of Vesuvianite earning his promotion and joining Litharge among the Negaverse’s officers who could travel freely, Ilmari did live with two people capable of getting him to Negaspace. If neither of them was available, it typically wasn’t hard to get a ride from Albite or another member of their team.

Distraction from any of his tasks, Ilmari considered unacceptable. But that kind of focus could too easily become a double-edged sword. After handling some errands around the castle for Albite, logging both his reports (freshly edited and approved!) and Ilmari’s own, and turning in his most recent haul of energy drained around Destiny City, Ilmari found himself fresh out of tasks but also absent any real desire to skulk back home. True, he did have tasks to handle at the townhouse, but mundane matters such as laundry and doing dishes (largely Litharge’s and Vesuvianite’s, for reasons that were no one’s business but Ilmari’s)……they simply didn’t have the same appeal as *:･ﾟ✧NEGAVERSE TASKS✧ﾟ･:*.

Moreover, several of the tasks Ilmari needed to handle at home really only benefitted Ilmari himself. Fine, alright, that mattered, but it wasn’t the same as being of service to his teammates and superior officers, to Faustite and the other General-Sovereigns, to Queen Laurelite and Metallia, to the Negaverse as a whole. It wasn’t as though Ilmari could pat his own head and tell himself that he’d done a good job (so to speak).

Heels clacking as though they wanted to make themselves known without bothering anybody, Ilmari slunk through the castle’s corridors. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he sort of understood the approach, based on having watched a few streams of some RPGs he’d taken fanart commissions for. One of the streamers he’d watched had called it “sidequest-hunting” while playing the Dungeons and Dragons video game with the fruity vampire twink, the mean bisexual moon princess, and the one particular scene with the beefcake elf who could turn into a bear. Wandering around and making oneself available to people who had needs would either summon tasks or put one in the position to accept them.

Sure enough, it didn’t take Ilmari terribly long to find someone he was always eager to help. The feeling of a General’s aura drew Ilmari to the Great Hall like a moth to an LED bulb, and there was Faustite, slumped over a table. Ilmari darted over to his Boss’s hus-boss-band, dropping most of his concern for how loud his heels were or weren’t. Crouching beside Faustite, Ilmari thought to speak, but—oh. The problem made itself quite apparent.

Faustite’s internal fire, as Ilmari understood, was not supposed to be that low.

Maybe he should have asked instead of taking off to look for something to feed said flames, but what if that meant Faustite expended energy that he needed to conserve right now? No, no, no. Best to simply take initiative and handle things without needing to be asked.

Fortunately, Ilmari didn’t need to wander far. Someone had, for reasons he couldn’t fathom but also didn’t currently want to question, left a sizable heap of logs just……dumped on the floor outside of someone’s office. There was probably a terribly interesting story here that explained everything, and Ilmari wished that he knew the name on the placard beside the door so he could’ve investigated any tea. For the moment, however, he settled with pulling one of the thinner, more modest logs out of the pile. Ilmari hadn’t lasted terribly long in Boy Scouts as a child, but he did remember how easy it was to snuff out a fire by using an oversized log. Doing that when the fire was tied to Faustite’s lifeforce? Oh, he did not think.

Once he’d returned to Faustite’s side, Ilmari took great care, gently knocking Faustite’s grate open with the log (……what else was he supposed to use? his hands? when Faustite wasn’t wearing the cincher that made it safe for Albite or anyone else to touch him? why would anyone in their right mind do anything so appallingly, obviously stupid?). Ilmari held his breath as he maneuvered the log in, only releasing that tension when it caught fire rather than smothering Faustite’s life-flame. But—

“Ohhhh,” Ilmari couldn’t help saying aloud, watching as the flame around the log lit up in greens, blues, and violets as well as the normal reds, oranges, yellows, and whites that one expected from fire.…… He didn’t know what could have explained this—aside from the fairly obvious but equally unhelpful “something something, literal magic permeates everything about Destiny City and especially the Negaverse”—but as the rainbow flame danced before him, Ilmari was transfixed.

Immediately before teleporting to Negaspace tonight, Cryptomelane had dealt with something that made him incredibly loath to return to Destiny City. At least, not yet.

Even with his insides thrumming from the balm of the starseed he’d eaten, the idea of returning to the city felt……distinctly unideal. Not quite so much unsafe, because he didn’t doubt that he could handle himself just fine, but still, not what Cryptomelane had wanted to do. Whatever it was about Negaspace, being here simply felt so right—or less wrong than being in Destiny City did, at the moment, which counted as an improvement so he’d take it without complaint. (Brooding and internally haggling over semantics, sure, but not complaint.)

Skulking through the corridors of the castle, Cryptomelane moved without purpose or real intent beyond……being literally anywhere else but Destiny City. Moving around until he felt less agitated. He didn’t think himself alone, not really. People were always in the castle, even if you couldn’t immediately see them. Other agents. Senshi. The right (or maybe wrong) turn could have brought Cryptomelane into contact with somebody.… That somehow managed not to happen, though, and knowing something wasn’t quite the same as truly acknowledging that reality or feeling it.

(Chewing on another starseed had helped. Somewhat. Cryptomelane guessed. It soothed the nerves, at any rate, even if it also made him feel like he wouldn’t have minded some upstart Order senshi trying to invade the Dark Kingdom right now just because they would’ve been signing themselves up to die, and fighting them sounded enjoyable.)

As a means of banishing the illogical feeling of loneliness—and with it, the sense of, eugh, vulnerability—Cryptomelane summoned Ympe to his side. While he took a leisurely pace, Ympe trotted along a bit quickly, a side-effect of his shorter, bandy legs. Didn’t stop him from chattering pleasantly about some scrap he’d gotten into in the Rift, though.

But that, in turn, didn’t stop Cryptomelane from hearing someone singing elsewhere in the castle. He recognized the tune, though not the words. Some “official” version of the song didn’t play during the holiday season at Lavender Haze, but every other store on their block loved to blast it and not having recognized it at one point had earned Cryptomelane several strange, somewhat pitying looks from people who seemed to regard the tune as a cornerstone of the holiday season. More recently, some of the undergrads had weaponized a particularly beloved version in an escalating prank war on campus.

Wrinkling his nose, Cryptomelane turned to follow the song where it led. Black eyes glittering eagerly, Ympe kept pace, his toothy mouth wondering all the way if they were going to murderize somebody.

So transfixed by the rainbow flames burning within Faustite’s grate, Ilmari didn’t notice anybody else coming into the great hall—not until she’d gotten right up close and started asking questions. All orangey-red hair and cute vest, the lieutenant looked like she could’ve been one of Gwen’s friends……or maybe between Gwenn and Riann, among the ranks of Ilmari’s younger siblings. The mispronunciation of Aurora Borealis attracted a brief blink of “what do you mean when you say words??” but it quickly passed. That wasn’t even half as strange as some of what Albite said at any given moment, so Ilmari smiled politely and decided not to mention it.

“If you mean burning more intently when something goes into his grate, then yes,” he said, tone pleasant and warm but (he hoped) not too stifling. “The rainbow flames are new, though, and I’m not sure they’re related to his mood? If they were, I’d imagine them leaning more toward blue or grey right now.”

He arched both brows at the lieutenant and nodded toward Faustite, hoping to draw her attention to the fact that his boss’s hus-boss-band was currently bent over a table and in a way that reeked of sleep deprivation rather than anything Ilmari should’ve refrained from discussing with someone who, for all he knew, may well have still been in eighth grade. Pushing himself back up to standing, he smoothed his hands down his skirt.

“I found the log that I put in elsewhere in the castle,” he explained, “so I had assumed that the rainbow flames had come from some sort of Negaverse magic. Where did you get your logs?”

By the time Cryptomelane and Ympe reached where the singing had seemed to be coming from, it had long since stopped. Peeking into the great hall, however, Cryptomelane could easily see why. A girl sporting a familiar gingery ponytail stood near a table, beside some senshi with long, thick Rapunzel blonde hair. Cryptomelane didn’t recognize that one, though, so he moved to stand by Brassite’s other side.

“I wouldn’t bet on that assumption,” he said plainly as Ympe wriggled between Cryptomelane’s legs and Brassite’s. “Could still be something to the idea, maybe. But a few logs I’ve seen around town have lit up like this in the past week. Wood that couldn’t have come from Negaspace, so—Ympe.”

Cryptomelane didn’t raise his voice, but spoke firmly, demanding attention. Sensitive horns bobbing innocently, Ympe looked away from the General’s black, surcoat-looking garment. One of his blue, three-fingered hands remained curled around the fabric, though, ostensibly ready to pull it back and rifle through the General’s pockets.

Pushing his glasses up, Cryptomelane asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ympe wants starseed!” The diminutive youma grinned, flashing his oddly matched, pointy teeth. “General-Sovereigns have lots. ‘specially half-youma!”

“You can just ask me for a starseed.” By way of demonstrating, he removed one from his subspace and held it up. “It’s yours if you let go of his clothes and come meet Brassite.”

Whether Ympe lit up about the starseed or hearing her name, Cryptomelane couldn’t say. But he achieved the desired effect: Ympe unhanded the General-Sovereign’s uniform and turned away from him. Big, black eyes aimed up at Brassite, he waved “hello” and flashed another grin.

“Hiiiiii,” he said brightly, his too-small bat-looking wings fluttering in the way they tended to do when Ympe felt excited about something.

Faustite woke to the feeling of being mildly overheated again. A strange ashy flavor permeated his mouth, and he grimaced for it. As he stirred, his fire erupted boisterously, which cast more of the melodious colors over the great hall's walls. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but in that span of time, quite a group had bandied around him. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he tried to take in the scene.

He recognized Ilmari, Brassite. The other boy looked familiar. The youma looked familiar, too, but Faustite couldn't remember ever seeing it hanging around that officer previously. Then, of course, two more were coming in with more exclamations about how pretty it was. Seemed like they were looking at him.

Feeling offended, Faustite had half a mind to remind the rank and file that he wasn't pretty, but when he glanced down in his utter dismay, he saw half a burnt log shoved haphazardly in his grate and a kaleidoscope of lurid colors coming out of his fire as it burned.

What the ********>, he tried to say.

Turning to Ilmari, Faustite motioned at his grate and again mouthed the words. Then, as if Ilmari should know sign language by default, he signed to Albite's

amorremanet

Leaning in to inspect the fire, Brassite answered Ilmari, "Got 'em at Hillstreet Park, near the edge of town." She leaned back after only a moment. Generally On Fire really put out some heat! "You wanna stick it in him for science?"

It's been well over a year since Mimsy had come into her life, so when doing things For Science, she'd become a pretty enthusiastic Igor for her friend. As Brassite, well, she hadn't done any Nega Science yet outside of a test or two with Chalc. But she was fully willing and able!

Of course at the start of Nerd Talk, Cryptobro arrived as if summoned. And there was a youma??? Was this his youma? His personal youma???????!

AND IT TALKED.

"Hi! Oh my gosh hi, aren't you so ********' cute!" The burning rainbows general king was briefly forgotten as the girl squatted beside the little guy who'd just tried to pickpocket a negaverse boss dude. She held out a couple fingers for him to shake, "What's your name cutie?"

A couple more agents came up and mentioned it may be some other sort of thing turning fire into rainbows. Like singing! "What if we held hands in a circle 'round him, and sang some Christmas songs? For science." There was a distinctly s**t-eating grin on Brassite's face that meant she was now just being a punk.

She didn't have any extra starseeds on hand, so instead she pulled out a festive red and green scrunchie with a couple jingle bells on it and gave it over to the little imp of a youma. "Here's a meeting gift, sweetpea."

Did she have another that she was taking out and reaching toward the general king with, at the suggestion they might try decorating to cheer him up? Well! Yes! But that hand was quickly retracted when he like, woke up. Even though he looked a little soft and cute when just waking up, he was like, also still very on fire. As well as her boss's boss.

Shifting to stand more at attention, Brassite did her best to look like the good and professional agent she was. And pretty, thank you, Ympe. There was an extra point of interest as the General King began to sign. What???? Was this a chance to show off?

Over the past couple months she'd started to learn a bit about American sign language. Of course, keeping up at Ravioli's Constipational Hemorrhage took up a lot of her study time, so it was still pretty rough and patchy. But also a bit less frustrating and hard than regular reading was for her. Somehow doing a word was a lot less awful than trying to read one. Eventually she was gonna surprise the ******** outta Eion with how cool and smart she was with it.

SO it was with great confidence that she explained to Cryptomelane (s**t Mellie was such a cute nickname for him) and the other two agents, "He says it's a gay pride fire!"