Welcome to Gaia! ::

“Ah, hm, well, this is not the most scenic part of Destiny City,” Almadel said suddenly from behind Benitoite. He had arrived silently, manifesting in a radiant aurora that faded almost as quickly as it appeared. He brushed what looked to be sparkles off his coat.

“But I’m sure you’ve got good reasons for bringing me here!”

Almadel’s tail twitched behind him and he seemed in good spirits, if not just a bit jittery. To anyone who didn’t know him, it was easy to assume it was just an alien’s quirks. He steepled his fingers before him, tapping each fingertip to its counterpart.

Briefly, his eyes drifted to the sky before returning to Benitoite’s face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, General?”

“Oh, so formal,” Almadel praised, but waved his hand dismissively and avoided the spike completely. He didn’t reach out to take it, nor did he claim to know of whatever Benitoite suspected he assumed.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to fill me in a bit more, dear General! You give me too much credit! I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’ll take you to the museum, that’s what you’re asking?” he prompted.

He smoothed his hands out on the front of his uniform and then offered one hand to Benitoite as if to invite him along. “You can catch me up to speed along the way. I’ve always enjoyed a nice story. And I do owe you for helping me with those Kosopods,” he hummed, tapping his foot on the ground.

Eventually, he shrugged. “Well! We’ll figure it out along the way, won’t we! But I have no idea what you’re talking about! Really. Truly!”

Almadel hummed as he listened, as any good audience should do to ensure others knew they were paying attention. His face betrayed no surprise or shock as Benitoite spoke to him, but before they left Earth he said, “Oh, I don’t know if I’ve got anything warm for you to drink. I can get you some water, humans drink that. But you won’t like what I have. I’m afraid I haven’t been back in a while so I haven’t restocked my supplies. If I’d known I was entertaining guests I’d have prepared sooner!”

Their time on Earth was short; light sparkled over Almadel’s skin and spread across his body to Benitoite’s. A tingling sensation started from where their hands connected and rapidly expanded to pass over the rest of Benitoite.

The process was warm, but not unpleasant.

They lurched upward, into the sky, but between one breath and the next they were propelling downwards. It was a painless process, and they arrived in a hallway easily recognizable as one of the back rooms in the museum. It was dimly lit and a bit cool but Almadel seemed unfazed.

“Maybe I can make some coffee. Oh–warm cider?” he asked, and gestured for Benitoite to follow now that he released his hand. He wandered into the first door, which was quickly revealed to be a stockroom. It wasn’t a very large room, but there were shelves along all walls, and boxes packed neatly with little space between them. An alien language was written on them but Almadel moved to one and pulled out a few dark bottles.

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy,” he said, but that was the only commentary he had related to Benitoite’s endeavors, and he didn’t look up as he needlessly scrutinized the labels. “Do you like pomegranate?”

Almadel tilted his head as Benitoite made the offer to bring him supplies, but before he could graciously accept, Benitoite was back to business. So, Almadel held his tongue.

It would have been rude to step away, so he placed one of the bottles back in the box and then began to roll the other bottle between both hands quickly. Benitoite was between himself and the door so it wasn’t like he could escape. A few times he tried to look elsewhere, like he really wasn’t interested in the tablet, but finally he caved and, exasperated, dipped his head a bit so he could see it better.

He continued to roll the bottle of cider between his hands with great expertise; from the tip of his finger to his wrist and then back again.

“General, you’re very charming, but you really need to practice the lead in. You’re making my head spin! This is to much at once. I’ve not even gotten you your cider. And I’m not actually even sure where to start. I’ve never been to a place exactly like that. I’ve been around! To a great many locations with fancy murals, and I’ve seen tombs, and prisons, and whatnot–but something like this?”

His expression was a bit grim as he looked at the murals again.

“...Well, I can’t tell you by sight alone. I don’t really make a habit of breaking into active prisons. And something like this,” he shook his head. “No, those storms are something to avoid. I’m not really the sort to willingly throw myself into danger. A prison like that, well.” He shrugged once more. “Those things aren’t designed to stay in one place. It was probably supposed to stay on the outskirts of the universe, where no one would ever find it. Don’t you think? Where would you keep something like that? No, don’t answer that. Let me try again. Ask me one question at a time, give me time to think about it. You’ll get me tongue tied and confused. No, I have never been to the place in those pictures. And I don’t know where you could find it. Specifically. What’s the next question?”

Almadel lifted his head briefly after having bowed it while he rolled the bottle rapidly. He followed Benitoite into the hallway but seemed to drag his feet a bit as he began to guide him away from the store room and towards the rest of the museum.

“Oh, I can tell. You do seem a bit jittery. What supplies are you offering? I like junk food. Because it lasts so long,” he insisted, and not because it was probably toxic and he seemed to enjoy that. “I’m not picky. I like all of Earth’s treats. Which is why, of course, you know I wouldn’t want to see anything foul befall it. Earth is very near to my heart! And I’ve spent so much time there. I was actually hoping to set up something of a permanent residence there. Well, of sorts. Semi-permanent. Vacation home.”

He shrugged, “You know. I’m quite alarmed to hear that you’ve got some concerns. I thought Earth was in good hands, yes? Don’t you protect it, isn’t that the whole Negaverse thing?”

“What?” Almadel nearly snapped. “What ‘balance’? No, kill it. It’s just a pest, anyway. LIke the Kosopods, but bigger. If a brighadon breaks into your house do you just let it–wait, no, those aren’t from Earth. What do you have? Bees?” he shrugged dismissively. “The point is, you don't just let a predator in and worry about the ‘balance’. What are you, a Knight?”

He huffed but seemed to quickly remember his manners and smiled sweetly instead.

“I’m sorry, forgive me. It’s been a bit rocky lately. What were you saying about a list? I can do that for you. I’ll just give you one of my shopping lists. You can probably read my handwriting.”

He hadn’t stopped rolling the bottle between his hands, but now they were passing through the end of the hallway and into the wide expanse of one of the exhibit rooms. The museum was notably empty of guests but the lights turned on as soon as he stepped into the room.

This room was filled with strange artifacts–tools and artwork that had an undeniably inhuman touch to it. He stopped by one case and flipped the glass lid with his elbow. Only then did he stop rolling the bottle and snagged two intricately carved cups from the display.

The case was lowered quickly and he set the glasses atop them.

“I don’t think you should focus on repeating what was done before. It didn’t work the last time. How do you know you won’t repeat their mistakes?”

“Things were made to be used,” Almadel insisted, and once the cider had been poured he passed one cup to Benitoite and kept one for himself. “Besides, these were getting dusty. I’d have to clean them anyway. I’m just kidding, it’s not dusty, you can drink from it,” he said, and seemed amused with himself.

The cider in the cup was warm, as if the ministrations he’d given the bottle on the way over had actually been quite effective in heating it up.

“I’d call it a pest. Just a big one, yes? Humans are very quick to label things with such grandiose titles. Sometimes it’s cute, but you must give yourself ulcers by thinking about things so seriously. ‘Apocalyptic’ is just so…”

His voice trailed off and he shuddered; his tail twitched uncomfortably.

“But you have to think–if they could handle it before, why shouldn’t you be able to handle it again? It’s not some undefeatable god, it was subdued once. And there are so many of you on Earth–that has to count for something, yes? Surely you have weapons…?”