Welcome to Gaia! ::

Blarney let out a breath, puffing his cheeks out like a pufferfish until the breath ended. It was fine, it would be fine, everything will be fine: this is what he had been repeating to himself ever since he and Valhalla had settled on the time and date that they would be going to the moon.

Going to the whole entire moon.

To meet the source of his magic.

Behind his nerves, Blarney had been spending a lot of time - a lot of time - trying to develop questions that he had; things that he didn't think the other Senshi or Knights he ran into would have the answers for. The Code might not technically be god, or God-with-a-capital-G, but he was pretty sure that The Code was, at least, in possession of god-like magic and power, and hopefully knowledge. Maybe it couldn't see the future - but what if it could?

Blarney let out another low and slow breath. This was fine. This would be fine. If nothing else, he was at least completing one of the assignments from Halle's to-do list:



He had more questions - but for Valhalla. They were multitudinous and disorganized, and they changed every other minute, it felt like, but mostly it was the point on the to-do list that Blarney was concerning himself with: find out their stories. Their biggest fights, biggest wins. Not just Valhalla's, but his family, if they had been as involved for as long as it seemed, they were bound to have some good ones. Or bad ones. Whatever ones he had - Blarney would take anything Valhalla had.

"What, like I'd miss out on the no-rocket-required moon launch?" Blarney asked with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. He listened to the how-to, nodding as Valhalla spoke. You just need to need it. That shouldn't be a problem, Blarney thought, given that he was going out of his skin with need 98% of the time and barely covering it up the other 2%. It was just a matter of giving into it, he mused. Should not be a problem.

Blarney took Valhalla's hand, the gesture surprisingly intimate in a way that made him feel very small - like a kid holding a teacher's hand to cross a busy street. That wasn't not what they were doing, Blarney decided; he just hoped they wouldn't get hit by any space-cabs on the way.

"It actually doesn't sound ridiculous at all," Blarney reassured him. "At least, no more ridiculous than..." he looked down at his outfit, then looked around them pointedly, "anything else I've heard in the last couple months." He chuckled, then straightened his shoulders. You just need to need it.

He thought of the questions, carefully honed. He thought of all the conversations he'd had - with Halle, with Halia, with Viatrix and with Joy. With Valhalla, with Bifrost. With his own sister, even.

He thought about how many answers to his questions were 'I don't know', or 'That's not possible yet because', or 'Because if we don't we or others will die'. He thought about the exhaustion under Valhalla's eyes; he thought about Halle's voice when he'd said that most of the people on that first Senshi document weren't around anymore, for one reason or another, grimmer reason. He thought about Joy's anger at being 'conscripted'. He thought about the helpless, hapless confusion, the creeping anxiety that lay just beneath all of his demands to do better.

God, he needed help. He needed help. They all did, but Blarney - Mason - he was just...

He was just a kid.

Please, Blarney found himself thinking. Please. Please help me, so I can help everyone else. Please.

After a moment of reticence, Blarney allowed himself to mentally face it: the anxiety, the need, the overwhelm, the--

The fear.

He needed help, because every minute he didn't get it, he was basically begging to be killed. It was so, so scary - with or without magic. Even if he'd never awoken, there were monsters who wanted to eat him. He was so small, he was just one person, and he needed to gather people together, people who knew more, people who were more powerful, smarter, better-equipped. But who would believe him? Who would follow him anywhere? He didn't know anything. He didn't know anything.

What if nobody knew anything?

It yawned out before him, in his heart, in his mind, late at night when he couldn't sleep, and in that exact moment: what if nobody knew anything? What if there were no leaders, no followers, no nothing, and they were all alive and fighting the darkness for no reason at all, alone in an uncaring universe filled with monsters that wanted to eat them just because they were hungry and humanity was there?

Help, Blarney thought, desperation in his own mental voice. Please. Please. Please. Please help us. Please help me. Please.

Blarney peeked his eyes open, one at a time, letting out a slow breath as he looked around. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this somehow did, in fact, exactly meet his expectations of what something called 'the Moon Palace' should look like. It was much bigger in real life than the version he'd seen in Halia's memory, though, and Blarney felt weirdly like he'd gotten into the forbidden area of a museum; that he wasn't allowed to touch anything, lest it crumble away into dust.

And then Valhalla was speaking, casually, like you might to a coworker who'd been on vacation for a while and needed to catch up with. Blarney's eyes followed Valhalla's gesture and voice, eyes widening slightly as he took in what was, he thought, The Code. That was the source of all their magic. It was both less than and much more than he'd been expecting.

Blarney hesitated, glancing around the massive, tomb-like room for a moment; there were other things to investigate, he thought, his eyes landing on a console in a far corner looked like it had buttons to push, or a screen, or something - any time he and Mads went to a museum, he was always the one pushing the buttons. Over and over again, sometimes.

But what really kept dragging his attention was the very, very, very bright light, hanging down from the ceiling. It wasn't the sort of light you could get at Home Depot, that was for sure, and the longer he looked at it, the calmer he felt. And the blinder, but mostly the calmer - the warmer, the happier.

Oh.

"The Cauldron," Blarney said aloud, the surprise itself spurring him to speak. "That's--oh. Okay."

He'd been expecting something more...cauldron-y. Witch-y. Bubble bubble toil and trouble-y. That was where souls went, came from. Starseeds. It was so...

"Beautiful," Blarney murmured. He stayed quiet and still for another moment - both unusual for him, the gravitas of this place pressing down on him like a weight - and then pulled his gaze from the Cauldron to the pulsating source of his very own magic.

"Hi," Blarney said, quickly stepping over to join Valhalla, waving a little greeting to the glowing mist. He had no idea if or how it could 'see' him, but like Valhalla said, politeness was especially important.

So he straightened up a little as he came to a stop next to Valhalla, swallowed, and continued to speak.

"I'm Blarney, Knight of Earth. I--I guess you know that already, since I guess you...picked me, or...blessed me, or...well, made this happen. Thank you," he said, then repeated, more seriously: "Thank you. Thank you for letting me help people and showing me there's...there's so much more out there than I ever could have possibly dreamed up in a million years." Not all of it was good, but the bad stuff was harder to remember, up here. Was this what heaven was like?

"I...I've been trying really hard to learn as much as I can," Blarney began, resisting the urge to fidget as he spoke, "and be the best Knight I can be. But--I have some questions, and--and I guess I'd just really like to know--I guess, where to put my energy, to do the most good for the most people, y'know? Plus, the more information I have, the more I can share it with other people who might also be confused or upset or lost, and I think that--that could be really good. Maybe." Blarney swallowed. Be cool, be cool, be cool...

"Is--is it okay if I ask you some questions?" Blarney paused, then whispered to Valhalla, "Is there like an honorific I should use? Your Holiness? Your Glowiness? Mister or Miss The Code?"

Oh, boy. Blarney had the sudden disorienting sensation of being stuck in a dream - or a nightmare. The kind where you showed up naked to a final exam for a class you'd never gone to. 'Tell me what you have learned'. He'd learned so much, and what if all of it was wrong? What if he'd done such a bad job that he was sent back to like...

Blarney blinked. The Code had given him his abilities.

Could The Code take them away?

Don't borrow trouble, he thought to himself, though it was Madeline's voice. Instead of giving into the freefall of panic that threatened to rise up within him, he straightened, swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded.

"That wasn't really the question, that was more - the heading of the questions," he clarified, "but I apologize for not being more clear. Right now, the good I want to do is focused mostly on increasing the strength of the foundation upon which Knights and Senshi come into their abilities. For Knights it can be especially--overwhelming, and confusing. I got--I mean, I guess I don't know if it's lucky, exactly, but...I got attacked by a youma before I awoke, and a Senshi saved me. She explained about, y'know, some of all of this, before I awoke. So I already kind of had an idea about all of this existing, before I came into my abilities. And then when I did awaken, I happened to be with a Mauvian, who was able to help me out a little more, in that moment and in the future, such as with upgrading my ring, which I didn't even know was a thing I needed to do until--anyway. Sorry. I apologize for--for rambling," he said, suddenly self-conscious.

"I don't mean--to sound ungrateful, Code, or whiny, or--or anything like that, I promise. I just--I think part of the reason the Negaverse works so well at their bad guy stuff is because--they're organized. We're not. And I get--I get it that part of the good guy's side is--is freedom, right? Like, nobody forcing anybody to do anything, but...shouldn't we still have the infrastructure so people can do things if they want to?"

Blarney sighed softly and started to run his hand through his hair, but remembered the flowercrown and dropped his hand. "To answer your second question - I'm good at people. People like me, most of the time, and I usually like most people. I--I care about people, and I believe the best in them, even when it's hard. And I know sooner or later that'll probably bite me in the butt, but...I'd rather get bitten than miss out on a chance at a friend, or the chance to help someone make their lives or the world a better place to be. I'm okay with putting my heart out there, because hardly anybody else does that, and--and everybody needs more of that. Magic or not. It's--anyway. That's...I think that's what I'm good at. People. Seeing people. Seeing who they are and what they could be, what they want, sometimes why they want it. I'm pretty good at compromise, 'cause of my sister, y'know - twins, and all. I--I think I bring a good attitude to the stuff I do, and I think that--I know I'm young, I know I'm new, but--I think I want to help people like Mr. V here remember--remember why they got into this in the first place." Blarney paused, a sheepish glance in Valhalla's direction. "Which kinda takes me to my next point, which is that - like, I'm young, right? A bunch of us are just kids, but a bunch of us are just kids. We don't have kids of our own, or families to worry about, or, like, jobs. We can do more with some of this stuff than Mr. V and his family and his people can, but we don't know how, or don't know what to do, and it all comes down to like, sheer luck or bad experiences to show us what we're supposed to do. And that's--that's just a waste. Because there's so many of us, we could be doing so much more if there was a safe way for all of us to meet up and talk and figure out a baseline and figure out how to reach out to new people, make sure they don't have to come up to the moon and get the basics from, no offense, a semi-transparent puff of sorta-deity." Blarney let out a faint huff, then closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I can tell you everything I've learned since awakening, but that might take a while, because I feel like I've learned a lot, but it hasn't been--like, I had to go and really try, really hard, to find people to teach me what I know. And I know some of what I was told initially was just flat wrong. I had to ask a million and one questions, and it took this long for someone to be like, 'hey, did you know you can go to the moon and ask these questions directly?', which is--it's just not--" Blarney bit down on the word that threatened to come out, the word that would make him sound every bit as childish as he was determined not to sound:

Fair. It wasn't fair that they were all scrambling in the dark like this. Senshis got cats, the bad guys got an onboarding document. What did Knights get? They didn't even get a real weapon, no magic...

It just wasn't fair.

"It's not practical," he decided instead. "And we could do a lot more good--however you define that--if you, or someone, or something gave us some more guidance on what we, collectively, should be doing to keep the world and all of us safe." Blarney sighed again. "Do you still want to know my specific questions? Because I thought a lot about it and do have some pretty detailed things I'd like to know, but--but I feel like you--like maybe you might wanna--I don't want to be in trouble," he admitted, all in a rush, immediately embarrassed. "And I do want to ask my specific questions, but--but that was a lot, and I'm sorry, and--and, yeah."

“I don’t need apologies,” the Code confirmed, as pleasant as it was indifferent. “Nor do you need to placate me with platitudes. You are not the first to come to me with such concerns. I suspect you will not be the last. But this not a matter of my own failing. Practically speaking, what do you expect a ‘semi-transparent puff of sorta-deity’ to do for you? Do you imagine that I should come to Earth and host meetings? Or summon each and every Knight as they awaken across the universe, and devote tutorship to each of them? That’s impractical.”

The Code did not seem the least bit agitated; it swirled in a steady, easy-going orb. Its glow was constant, neither bursting nor dimming as it rotated.

“Ask your questions. You won’t offend me. Say the most vile thing you can imagine and I still won’t strip you of your power or endanger you or your Wonder. Your starseed is more important than your mouth. You are young. I expect you to be foolish. I won’t punish if you are. But let me address some things now. Let it be known that I was already trapped by the Negaverse before. I’m better off here, away from them and out of their hands.” But that was a long story, not relevant here except in passing.

“Perhaps you are aware that, once, there was a structure devoted to training Knights. There were schools, there were mentors, there were professionals. I helped establish the structure, but I was never responsible for maintaining it. The structure has fallen through by no fault of my own. I will help when I can, as is the duty I have chosen for myself. As each Knight can choose for themselves. I do not prohibit anyone from creating a support system for each other. But know that what works for someone will not work for everyone.

“You want my power, my protection, my answers. You want guidance, but there is no singular blueprint to being a Knight. I will help, as I can, but your Wonder is unique to you. When it was made, your task would have been to protect it--not it and the entire world. Similarly to Valhalla–his task would have been to his Wonder, on Jupiter. And yet, he is split between worlds. This is unprecedented. For all of you. For myself, as well. If you ask me what you should be doing, my answer would be ‘protecting your Wonder’, but the threats are different now from what they used to be. I cannot predict what threats you will face. I only know that it is your duty, as the Knight of Blarney, to protect your Wonder, and the Code piece installed there. I don’t expect you to give up your world to do so. But you must learn to navigate the traditions of old with the new threats of today.”

The Code spoke with authority, with certainty, but not belligerence. “Which is something I think everyone is still learning. You are young, so you have time to approach this from a novel perspective. But with youth comes hubris. Do you not have school? Do you not have a future you should prepare for? You are learning and growing and developing. Answer me honestly–what do you think you could do more than ‘Mr. V’?” the Code asked, not impatiently, but with the same bluntness it expected of Blarney.

“This is a situation where your age does you a disservice,” the Code said calmly. “You want a history of the universe. The scope of what you ask for would take more time than you have in this lifetime, and the next, and the next. And by then, the universe will have rewritten itself again already. My first lesson to you is that you need to focus on one thing and start there.”

For the first time, the Code sounded not just firm, but angry. “And, do not ever humor the thought of working with the Negaverse.”

It calmed, but a heaviness lingered in the room.

“The more energy you give to them, the stronger Metallia becomes. A creature so wicked, so evil, that she will swallow up the Earth in darkness once she has the strength to do so. And when she is done with Earth, she will use that power to travel the cosmos. She will devour what worlds she can find–few of them as there are–and make her way to the Cauldron. Where she will poison it, as well. Such is the nature of Chaos–all Chaos. No matter how nicely you think they play.

“There is no peace with the Negaverse. They collaborated with you because Metallia cannot afford to lose Earth. If the Calamitous Hollow had devoured it first, all her efforts are wasted. Do not be deceived by their compliance–you were a tool to them. A means to an end. You cannot work with the Negaverse and expect a happily ever after. Expect that, while your guard is lowered–when they have drained all usefulness from you–they will stab you in the back. Or, perhaps your reward for being such a good boy, Metallia will reward you with eternal life. She likes her puppets mindless. Maybe you’d make a good youma.”

The bitterness lingered, but the Code did not give Blarney time to wonder where it was coming from. “When the Academy fell, it was swallowed into the Negaverse’s domain. Where they pilfered and defiled it. The Negaverse desecrated the legacy the old Knights sought to preserve. You make it sound as though it was delightful to be a prisoner of the Negaverse. Shall I describe what it felt like as the Chaos bled into me for the millennia I remained entombed? You want to know how they captured me, how they poisoned me, how the Chaos that tainted me spread through me to the Code pieces on even the most protected Wonders? Does that sound like an enlightening story? Perhaps you should ask Mr V for his stories. Have you heard how the Negaverse abducted, tortured, his wife? Maybe you should ask him what they did to his father. Ask him what they did to him.”

The Code swirled quicker, incensed, but took a few seconds to regulate.

“The only thing you need to know from me about the Negaverse is that you never want to let them obtain full power. Just because you shared a common enemy does not make them your allies. Do not be foolish, Blarney. I am not asking you to sacrifice your idealism or hope for the world. Just don’t be stupid about it. There is nothing you can offer the leadership of the Negaverse that they cannot take from you. You are a sheep offering his neck to wolves.”

Once more, the Code calmed. It no longer flashed with light, no longer swirled in dismay.

“I am not the Queen of the Moon. You speak of Queen Serenity. She is a computer program. The Moon was well-known for their technological proclivities. She is what the old Queen could salvage of her consciousness and program into the defense protocols, I suppose. But don’t think she would have programmed anything an enemy could use. The Moon was dedicated to secrecy. I have only arrived here in the last few years. The Moon did not want Knights before.”

Now, they were necessary.

“I do not monitor Senshi starseeds, so I cannot tell you if Sailor Earth is alive, or where you might find them, or if their starseed even exists. I cannot tell you that about any starseed. Even Cosmos herself would not have an easy time locating a single starseed. She manages all of them. I don’t know what the Earth educational system looks like, or how diligent you’ve been in your astronomical studies. If you have heard of a world, there is probably a Senshi that guards it. Or, guarded. Worlds rise and fall. Senshi come from any living world. Not all ‘asteroids and stuff’ qualify. And sometimes, worlds are destroyed, and their Senshi along with it. It is not so simple. I can tell you that there has been a Senshi of Earth. I cannot tell you where they are now.

“But no Senshi should have that great of an impact on what you as a Knight do. You know you don’t serve Senshi, don’t you? You protect your Wonder. Even if Sailor Earth appeared, you are not beholden to their commands. Your loyalty is to yourself, and your Wonder.” Notably, the Code did expect any for itself.

“You and the Senshi probably have similar goals. You and other Knights may even have similar goals. I would not be so quick to declare that you have more energy than a Knight well-suited to guide you.” With no eyes, the Code still looked at Valhalla, and then back to Blarney. “It is less likely that Valhalla will be lost than you, so do not think to throw yourself in harm’s way just to spare him. He is completely capable. You could learn quite a bit from him. Do you think he would be here if he did not have time for you? You speak of him as if you wish for him to retire. Are you so eager to take his mantle from him? He is a grown man. He will decide when, and where, to spend his efforts. You speak of him as if he has no time at all to dedicate to his task–and yet, Valhalla–how many years of your life have you spent dedicated to this war?”

It was a rhetorical question. The Code’s tone evened, like it was never riled up at all, but it regarded Blarney with a quiet contemplation that hung in the air even as it spoke again.

“I understand that you have questions. But you ask for guidance, for leadership, and then claim that the older Knights–the ones who have answers, who can guide you–do not have time? They have other obligations? Valhalla did not need to bring you here. But he chose to. Your time is not more important, nor bountiful, than his. You each have the same twenty four hours in a day. He is years ahead of you, but he started from the same place. You should not be throwing yourself into life-threatening situations just because you think he is ‘less disposable’.”

The Code softened, almost. Not because it was spent, but because it was making an effort to make the space it shared with the two Knights more comfortable.

“There are many areas to improve. And there are many Knights already working to improve them. I think it is admirable to want to make connections more readily available. I think it is a worthy endeavor to offer support where there is none. But you still have very much to learn, Blarney. I appreciate that you are going through such efforts to do so. You put a lot of thought into your questions, I’m sure. Tell me–of all the things you asked about, what is the most important do you? What keeps you up at night?”

Blarney did his best not to flinch, but he couldn't help the tension back in his shoulders or the gritting of his jaw as The Code continued to speak. Somewhere, in a distant part of his brain, he noted that in spite of being a deity or near enough to one, The Code did in fact have emotions. Maybe even a lot of them. The Code could experience something like pain. It could be sarcastic, it could be bitter. That meant it could be petty. That meant that its actions - such as it could take, as a semi-transparent puff of power - could be motivated by those emotions. That meant that The Code was not, perhaps, perfect in its reasons and its decisions.

These were important things to know, when one was putting a being on a pedestal and declaring it a god.

But that was all in the very back of his mind, distant and faint. At the forefront of his mind was his father.

His mother - she just ignored him, whenever she was home. She had better things to do than pay attention to him, to help him or hold him. Madeline had slightly better luck with her, but only slightly; Mason's mother was an unreachable, undefinable mystery that he'd been chasing since he could remember. Chasing and chasing and chasing and never, ever catching.

But his father?

When his father was home, he was usually angry. Mason wasn't sure if he was angry about having to be there, when he clearly wanted to be anywhere else, or if he was angry at Mason and Madeline for existing, or if he was just - an angry person. He hadn't seen him enough, in enough situations with enough people, to know, but he had to think he couldn't just be angry, because his mother would never put up with such behavior.

Not directed at her, anyway. Apparently her children were fair game.

His father never physically hurt them. He never even - did anything that Mason would call 'abusive', in the technical meaning of the word.

But his father was angry. Angry at him, and Mason had never known why.

Blarney had to focus, very hard, on what The Code was saying, and not what his mind was filling in, using his father's voice, cold like the ocean wearing away a rock until it was nothing more than a pebble - shiny, smooth, and ultimately useless.

Blarney's jaw tightened further and he tried to push through the ringing in his ears. The Code was not his father, at least not literally - maybe The Code was the parent-figure to all the Knights it awoke, in a pseudo-religious sort of way, Our father, who art in heaven and all that.

The Code was not his father. The Code was not his father. The Code was not his father, and Mason--Blarney--knew what he'd done to make The Code angry. He found he did not regret asking about peace with the Negaverse; Valhalla's words soothed his bruises, just a little bit, but they were faint and distant over the blood pounding in his ears.

The Code is not my father, Blarney chanted to himself, over and over again, and finally he managed to find the truth in that, and cling to it. He forced his jaw to unclench. When had his hands balled into fists? He didn't know, but he forced them loose as well. He forced himself to take a breath - slow. In, out. In, out.

What keeps you up at night?

In, out.

Take your time, Valhalla said. A mechanical, stiff nod from Blarney in acknowledgement; words threatened to spill over, and if he spoke before he was ready, he would make mistakes. That was sort of his whole M.O, really, and it was difficult to work against it, but this was too important.

What keeps you up at night?

He wanted to snap back and say he didn't want Valhalla to retire - he didn't want to make everybody's decisions for them at all. He wanted to try to explain what he'd meant, and he wanted to get as mad as The Code had gotten over being - what Blarney felt in the moment - was deliberately misunderstood.

But he didn't. Teeth still firmly pressed together, Blarney focused on his breathing. In, out. In, out. What would Madeline say? What would Halia say? What would Joy say?

This thought almost made him actually snort; the image of Joy kicking The Code down the street like an errant soccer ball popped into his brain of its own accord - but in that moment of levity, Blarney was able to actually relax, just a little bit.

"The thing that keeps me up at night," he finally said, unsure of how many minutes later it was, or what Valhalla and The Code had seen transpire over his face, "is that I got lucky. I got attacked and saved before I was awoken, so I already knew a tiny bit about the magical world. I had someone I could go to when I awoke, to be like 'what is literally going on'. If I hadn't had that? If I'd just--like, if I hadn't been attacked by a youma. If I'd just - seen a cat being chased by what I thought was the world's ugliest Doberman, and gone after it, and picked up a stick and then--been this?" Blarney gestured to himself. "I would have checked myself into a mental institution. Magic isn't supposed to be real, but it is, and learning that can be - it can be really hard, on a mortal brain. What keeps me up at night is that there might be Pages like me waking up and not even knowing that there's a whole bunch of other people out there just like them - or better, older, wiser, more powerful than them," he said, nodding his head slightly to Valhalla. "People who can help them accomplish whatever they want to accomplish."

"What keeps me up at night is - is random chance. The Negaverse works as well as it does because they're organized. Organization is not--it's not a thing that impedes freedom. It's a thing that can serve it. It's a thing that helps everyone be the best that they can be, do the most good. I--I hear you when you say that not everyone will be served by any one particular thing. I get that. But what if a Page awakens and finds a Senshi and the Senshi thinks that Knights are supposed to--to take orders from them or serve them? What if that Page never finds their ring, or never finds a magical talking cat to get it all upgraded? There--there has to be some sort of safety net. There has to be a way that--that we as a whole or certain dedicated people or you or Cosmos or something can tell when and where a new Page has awoken. There has to be some sort of--like, a welcome wagon. People who can meet and greet new kids, give them real information, true information, tell them what they can do next - how they can keep themselves safe, before they try to keep other people safe and get themselves killed or worse in the process. What keeps me up at night is that I could have fellow Earth Knights out there, right now, scared and confused and overwhelmed and alone and getting angrier by the minute because nobody has explained to them what's going on, and maybe they'll have such a bad experience that they'll never power up again, leaving their Wonder to rot and themselves unprotected. I want to find a way to help those guys, the way I was helped, the way I'm still being helped, literally right this second, because--because I'm just a guy." Blarney shrugged uselessly. "I'm just a guy who got lucky enough to be attacked by a demon in the middle of the street and then rescued by someone who could explain what had just happened to me. If you told me then that I'd ever be grateful to have gotten nearly killed by a youma, I would have laughed in your face. But if I hadn't, I don't think I'd be here having this conversation with you right now, because I would've been way too freaked out about what was going on to engage with it or tell anyone about it, never mind seek out people who might be like me or know more than me. It can't just be like, you're magic now, good luck. I don't care how it changes or who changes it - it doesn't have to be me, in fact in almost definitely should not be me, I've only been here ten minutes comparatively - but it has to change, Code. Tell me how--"

Blarney paused. He was getting a little bit heated. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, swallowed, and began again.

"If there is a way to even--even start building something like what I'm talking about, if you have any ideas about how to get something like that started, if you have any way to--to do some Code magic and--I don't know," he finally said, helpless. "I don't know what you can do and not do, so I don't know what to ask for. I just--we're just people. Mortals. I'm not like--a super genius or anything, in case you hadn't picked up on that. I'm about to be in college, and Mr. V--" he insisted on the nickname, maybe just a tiny bit passive-aggressively, "has a family who was--" he glanced back at the other Knight, "tortured?? I guess??" Obviously Blarney hadn't known this - and why would he, given that he'd only known Valhalla for less than a few hours total.

"But like--we're just mortal guys. Yeah, we're Knights--or, he's a Knight, I'm a Page. We have our Wonders. I get that like, in a perfect world, we'd all just - our Wonders would be the thing that we do and that's it. But we are so far from that perfect world, Code, and we're never going to get there if Knights keep getting thrown in the deep end. Can you imagine--" could The Code imagine, Blarney wondered absently, "--how much more we could get done? I mean--the people who want to do things, obviously, whether it's like--help train other people or go around picking youma off or, don't freak out, trying to talk to individual members of the Negaverse, whether for information or to try and--y'know, convert them or whatever. Imagine how much more we could get done if everybody already had the basic information I've spent literal months trying to track down all by myself, just because--like, that's just--that's just who I am as a person, but not everybody is like me. Some people need stuff brought to them. Some people need to feel safe before they can talk to anybody. Some people--whatever, you know what I mean. My point is, if I could've learned everything I've learned so far in a month instead of three months, I'd be two months further ahead on the stuff I actually want to do with this whole magic thing, not the stuff that keeps me up at night about it. I could be spending more time at Blarney, I could be helping other Knights make their Wonders habitable, I could be--I could be doing a million other things, but instead, I'm wandering around Destiny City at three in the morning because I am terrified that somebody is going to have their face mauled off or their heart ripped out of their chest and not even know what's happening to them, let alone why it's happening. And that makes me crazy. I know it's--I know it's, like, bad guy logic--I know it's not my fault if something like that does happen and I don't stop it because I do need to sleep sometimes, but like..." Blarney gave a frustrated sigh and shook his head.

"I just want to help people. I want to help my people, because it seems--really unfair, to make pretty much every Knight that awakens reinvent the wheel, unless they were lucky like me to already know someone in this--community, this world. Just--tell me how to help find and keep alive the other baby Pages out there, and I swear I'll leave you alone foooor...I dunno, does six months sound fair?"

It was a lame attempt at a joke, but Blarney couldn't help it; he really was spitting mad about how little education and support new Knights got, unless they really really worked for it. Whether it was something like a school or a little secure download to their Signet rings or whatever - Blarney knew something had to change, even if he didn't know or care what that something needed to be.