Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aurora was tired.

She’d been with this band of pirates for a long time. Millennia, at least. The universe-hopping and time-skips made it hard to keep track of the specifics, but it had been at least 10 millennia for sure. She liked her little band of space pirates, most of the time, despite how much they figuratively and literally pained her. The fucking first mate filled her with bullets on the daily. The weird scientist had accidentally melted one of her walls last millennia. The master at arms was always blowing something up. But she did love them. They were hers, and she was theirs, and they knew her for what she was - an individual, rather than a ship.

But now she was old. She was tired. She was breaking. She was mourning. And most of all, she needed a nap.

Aurora notified the pilot that she needed a few years to stop and make repairs. He picked the nearest habitable world he could find, just a few day’s journey from their current location, and they set the course together. She analyzed the chosen world, taking note of weather patterns and signs of sentient life as they approached. She alerted the quartermaster, informing them that she would need to self repair and that certain materials would be utilized from the inventories. Fortunately, everything she needed was on board, and the spiders would help her do the work she could not do alone. The pilot helped Aurora come down gently, and the doors were opened to let the crew depart.

Oh. She had known she was forgetting something.

She lowered screens in every occupied room, and played through her speakers for extra effect. They better appreciate this; she hated using the speakers.

“We have landed. You will be on this planet for 5-10 years while the spiders make repairs to my systems. Please pack what you wish to take with you. The doors will be open for 6 hours.”

Most of the crew responded with alacrity. Ashes, ever pragmatic, always kept an emergency bag on board. They’d refreshed it over the last few days after being warned about repairs. They grabbed a handful of small items and their footsteps echoed down the plank within 15 minutes.

Ivy was the next one out. She’d grabbed a few changes of clothes and an empty pack before consulting Aurora. Aurora printed the map she’d made, expecting this from the archivist; a chart of the storms she’d noted, some projections about the weather and the yearly cycle, and a map of what appeared to be the most highly-populated areas of this world. Ivy took note of the two species of sentient beings listed, but decided to begin with the humans in search of a library.

TS and Marius were the next ones out; the former had taken the time to press its suit and consult Aurora’s map for a war (she had a selection to choose from), and the latter gathered up some basic medical supplies and travel items, just enough to fit in a backpack. They set out together, having chosen the same direction to begin their adventures in.

Tim and Raphaella left together near the end of the 6 hour mark. Tim had himself packed and ready to go within a few hours and consulted Aurora’s map for conflicts. Aurora showed him what she’d discovered and pointed out the all-human war TS had gone to, in the north. Tim selected the species war and printed out a map before going to Raphaella’s lab. She was scrambling to pack as much science as she could, and quickly put Tim to work. They left together, Tim riding in a harness as Raphaella flew in the direction of the new species.

Brian had been packed before this all went down, of course. He’d had the most warning, after all. But he was kind, and the crewmate Aurora respected most; the one she most considered a friend. He was waiting by the gangplank, bidding farewell to the crew as they departed.

And the fucking first mate was still asleep.

She’d been alerting him every 15 minutes all this time. Gently at first, then louder and louder. He slept through all the alarms she had available: birds tweeting, annoying beeps, literal gunfire. His time was up now. And while theoretically she could have Brian handle the situation diplomatically, she was fed up with Jonny’s shit.

The first mate awoke to the fire suppression system going off in his room, dousing everything in foam. He screamed obscenities in multiple languages (Aurora filed some new ones away for later use), demanding Ashes get out of his room. And then he saw the sign.

“Get off the ship, fucking first mate.”

He demanded she listen to him, a ship to her captain, and she highlighted the words first mate before tipping to the side. He was too shocked by the real gravity to react quickly enough, and she maneuvered him through the hallways and out the door like one of those marble maze games from Tim’s homeworld. She took a video to show Nastya later to share with the crew; she was going to treasure this one for awhile.

The pilot sent Jonny running after the Soldier and Marius before climbing back up the gangplank to say farewell. “Do you need anything from me?” he asked.

She hummed and whistled before dropping a screen to reply. “Not now. I will be back in 5 years exactly to give an update on repairs. Be waiting here for me.”

“I can do that.” The rose bobbed merrily as he tipped his hat, then he started to go.

Aurora flashed her lights to get his attention. He’d been the kindest to her in Nastya’s absence, and she was very grateful. She could offer him a small favor. “Would you like a ride?”

“Where would I go?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

He thought for a moment, eyes lighting up blue in a quick flash. A vision, then. He frowned, and shook his head as if to clear out cobwebs. “I think I’d like to go somewhere peaceful. While I can.”

She pulled up her map and highlighted a very large lake in the center of the continent, several week’s travel by foot. “I can bring you here.”

He smiled, briefly and sadly. “Thank you, Aurora.” He patted her console. “You are too good to us."

She let out a whistle deep down in her pipes as she rose up and took a gentle, cloaked flight over to the Purelake. The pilot really deserved some rest. He’d chosen well. She set him down gently, said farewell, and flew out to the stars to do her work.

Normally Nastya would be here for this, and Aurora mourned her long lost love as she adopted an orbit between the first and second planets. She missed the gentle words, the sweet violin, even the cursing and banging when a part wouldn’t work the way it was supposed to. Nastya’s cute oil-streaked hair after a long day of cleaning the engines. The quiet nights they would spend together, singing to each other softly as the others slept. The slightly less quiet nights when the rest of the crew fled for the nearest planet. The understanding they’d had, heart to heart, quicksilver veins to pipes and wires. They’d matched, in an odd sort of way, and now Aurora was here alone, an abandoned mate.

She cried to herself, indulging a short moment before she set to work. She would fix what she could. The spiders would help with the rest. It would never be as good as what Nastya could do, but it would have to suffice. Aurora was on her own now.

Chapter Text

Nastya woke in the depths of space, the freezing cold searing into her bones. She could feel them cracking and shattering over and over again as her quicksilver blood healed her as fast as the ice could overtake her. She clutched the last piece of the Aurora to her chest and closed her eyes.

Aurora was gone forever, but at least she could hold onto the memory of her love.

How long had it been?

*

She woke again, surrounding stars looking nothing like the last time she’d opened her eyes. She drifted by a nebula, the beauty of it making her ache in a way that had nothing to do with the physical pain. Brian had died like this, once. She watched the glowing clouds of space dust as they swirled into a new planet. Once she would have shared this with her family. Once she would have shared it with her love. Now she watched alone, Raphaella’s haunting melody line echoing in her thoughts, cold metal frozen to her hands and clutched to her heart.

Nastya closed her eyes.

How long had it been?

*

Nastya woke again as the shattering cold changed to a different kind of pain. She was drifting nearer and nearer to a star, and she could feel the radiation breaking away the fabric of what she was. It didn’t matter. Her quicksilver blood would probably fix it, and if it didn’t, it was for the best. She closed her eyes once more and drifted.

She drifted, and drifted, and drifted, until all at once she was consumed with a burning heat and then - mercifully - Nastya Rasputina, violist, Mechanism, lost princess of Cyberia, engineer of the Starship Aurora, finally died.

*

Nastya woke up laying on stone in a shallow crater. She stared at the blue sky above her, uncomprehending; oh. She must have crossed paths with a planet before the star could suck her in. Disappointing. She continued to stare as the star in question lit up the sky before her, glowing almost cheerfully, in stark contrast to the state of Nastya’s mind at the moment. She’d hoped that the heat of a star would be enough to evaporate her quicksilver and disperse her forever. It hadn’t worked for Brian, obviously, but it was still her best chance. And yet she continued. She took mental inventory out of habit; her clothes had unfortunately been burned away. The air seemed to be breathable to humans, which wasn’t terribly important to her specifically but did make existence more tolerable. There was something in her hand, metal and lumpy as if it had melted and reformed - wait.

Nastya sat up and looked at the lump. It was the last piece of Aurora. Before, it had been nearly too big to hold; now it fit nicely in her hand. It had been melted and bent out of shape in reentry, made almost completely unrecognizable. If she didn’t know the elemental composition by heart, if there had been any other possible thing it could be, perhaps even Nastya would not have recognized it. It was the last piece of Aurora and no longer recognizable as itself. Just as the rest of her love had been.

And Nastya had broken this last part herself.

She clutched it to her chest and finally, finally, started to cry. She hadn’t cried on the ship. She hadn’t cried in space. Now she did. She sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left in her. No sadness. No feeling. Just an empty shell. Nastya sat like that, oblivious to the world around her. She did not see the plants or the stones or the three moons passing over head as the day turned to night. She didn’t see the spirit-like shapes that came to investigate her, not even the ashen one that perched in her hair. Nothing could hurt her if she let her mind drift, not even the cold of space or the ache of her lost love. So she drifted.

The highstorm hit her the next day.

Nastya was quite literally slammed back into awareness as a massive wave of water, hundreds of feet tall, picked her up and crashed her back down, breaking at least a few bones. Nastya gasped for air as the water picked her back up, carrying her westward, tossing her like a twig in boiling rapids. Within the storm she saw boulders being tossed and broken by the wind and the waves. Smaller objects whipped past her too quickly to take stock of in her limited vision. She slammed back into the stone, hissing through her teeth at every crunch , only to be picked up by another wave.

This wave carried her through a small village. She had a brief glimpse of lights, lanterns inexplicably left out in the storm. They had to be electric, didn’t they? The light was too steady to be flame, not that it would have survived the deluge anyway. How did the glass not break? Nastya was carried on far too quickly to take a closer look.

The storm carried her for what felt like an eternity. Occasionally she would lose consciousness as her head was slammed into the ground. She felt her bones reknit, healed by her blood, only to be broken again in even more places as she was squashed between a boulder and the ground. All was water, wind, and stone, with only the occasional lonely lantern to light up this hell.

Gradually the storm lessened, and the waves were no longer strong enough to move Nastya’s heavy body. She came to rest on the stone, fingers empty. She’d lost the last piece of her love in the storm, and no doubt it had gone over the mountains to the west, borne by the winds. The pain in her heart at that realization was swallowed up in the pain of her body. Was every bone broken? Most likely. She gave into the pain and let herself drift into blackness once again.

*

The windspren danced around Hoid’s walking staff as he walked through the ever-weakening rain. Why now? He’d had to take shelter in a shallow cave, gripping the ledge for dear life as the water flooded in, but he’d escaped the worst of it. And now he walked again, searching for what? He didn’t know. At least, he didn’t know until he stumbled on the girl’s body.

“What do we have here?” he asked the rainspren. They didn’t answer; spren never did. He watched her chest rise and fall with slow breaths, clearly alive, and clearly in pain from what looked like multiple broken bones if he wasn’t mistaken. She must have survived the highstorm somehow. He opened his pack to double check; yes, this was definitely the right place. How interesting. Well, he’d made a promise to always be where he was needed, and the millenia passing made no difference to how he kept that oath.

Hoid removed his cloak and wrapped the girl in it before trying to lift her into his arms; grunting with the effort. She was much heavier than she had any right to be. He glared at her skinny frame for a minute before removing a small vial of sparkly liquid from his belt, gulping it down with a grimace. Then he picked her up as if it took no effort at all.

“Immortality is a hard burden to bear, little one.” He adjusted his grip and set his course for the nearest village, called Hearthstone. “I hope you learn to enjoy it as much as I have.”

Chapter Text

The Toy Soldier pushed a log into the campfire, taking care not to wake Jonny or Marius as they slept on either side of it. How exciting to be off on a new adventure! The crew hadn’t been to a planet this primitive in quite some time. Usually Drumbot Brian tended to choose worlds with more space-faring civilizations, making it easier for him and Ashes to acquire whatever resources the Quartermaster felt necessary. It was also more fun for Gunpowder Tim, as well as First Mate Jonny and Raphaella. TS liked the more primitive planets, though. It was always so exciting to see a new way of doing things. It also had no interest in or need for the technology that the others seemed to prefer. All TS really needed was a jolly good war, and it was off to find one thanks to Aurora.

The Toy Soldier pushed in yet another log as the flames died low, staying carefully back behind a long branch. Fires were so very cheery, especially with the strange red shapes dancing around this one, but it preferred to look rather than to burn itself. The fire would make it warmer for Jonny and Marius to sleep, too. TS had decided to be on watch duty tonight, not feeling the desire to pretend to sleep. It was too excited about the war, and it knew that Jonny would rest easier if somebody watched his back. Jonny needed to sleep more often, it thought.

And so it was that the Toy Soldier was watching very closely when the old man came up to their campfire.

“Hello, fellow traveler,” he said. He was tall and thin, carrying a heavy backpack. He seemed young, somehow, despite the shock of white hair. Was his face lined or not? It was hard to say in the flickering light. “May I share in the company of your campfire?”

“Absolutely, good chap!” TS replied. “I will warn you, however, that my companions will not be happy to see a stranger when they awake, and Jonny may try to kill you! You may not wish to spend the night.”

The man nodded. “I will just rest a few moments and warm up, if that is alright.” TS nodded, and he sat, putting his pack down behind him to lean against, staring into the fire. “Healing from mortal blows does take a lot of energy, and I am so very tired tonight.”

TS nodded. “Doctor Marius says healing is especially hard when tired. I do not understand that, but he is the ships doctor even if he is not a doctor and I do not usually understand humans anyway.”

The man smiled. “All sentient creatures are strange, I’d say.” He nodded his head towards Jonny, who was sleeping on TS’s left. “Is this your Doctor Marius?” TS shook its head and pointed to Marius on its right. “I see. This would be the Jonny you said would try to kill me?”

TS nodded sharply. “Indeed, good chap! This is First Mate Jonny D’Ville of the Starship Aurora.”

“And what would you be?”

“I am the Toy Soldier!” He looked a little surprised, so TS explained. “I’m made of wood, I look like a toy, and I like to be a soldier. I’m very good at it and it is jolly good fun. I’ve had a lot of practice at following orders. I can follow just about all of them now! What may I call you, old chap?”

“I am Hoid,” he replied. “What do you mean by being able to follow just about all of the orders?” He looked oddly concerned, which TS was perplexed by and so elected to ignore.

“When I joined the crew, I promised Nastya that I wouldn’t cause trouble and would do what I was told,” it replied. “So I follow orders.”

“Always?”

“I try!”

“And what about conflicting orders?”

“I listen to whoever is loudest, usually. Or the most interesting. Or the one I want to do most.” TS shifted its seating, something it had observed its crewmates doing when they were uncomfortable. It was always trying to get better at blending in. “I didn’t want Nastya to make me leave. And then I got used to following orders.”

“That sounds like a dreadful life, little one.”

“It is better than the one I had before,” it replied. “Now I have friends to spend it with.”

Hoid smiled sadly. “A world of hurt can be much improved by a few friends, can’t it?” He watched the fire crackle for some time before speaking again. “What are you doing here, little one?”

“Traveling with Jonny and Marius, looking for a war.” TS was scanning the darkness again, though there was no sign of any other travelers.

“Did they order you to?” Hoid was concerned again, though TS didn’t understand why.

“No, they don’t order me around very much anymore,” TS said absently. “Marius didn’t know where he wanted to go, so we started north together. Jonny caught up to us later.”

“Is war your first choice? Or is there something else you would do, if you could do anything you wanted?”

TS considered that. If it was honest, it was not much in the mood for playacting yet another war. There had been so many wars. “I do not know what I would do,” it finally replied, “but I would very much like to find something to make my friends happy. A present, maybe. A way to help them, if I was very lucky.”

Hoid smiled. “A selfless soul, I see. Have you heard the tale of the Nightwatcher?” TS shook its head. “Then let me share it with you.” He turned around and reached into the pack behind him, pulling out a flute and a jar of white sand. “Will a song wake your companions?”

“That would be unlikely, Hoid, sir.”

Hoid made a face. “Please do not call me ‘sir’ ever again. I’ve got both too much and too little dignity for it.” He put his flute to his lips and began to play a soft, haunting tune. TS sat back and listened, continuing to scan the surrounding area for threats but paying close attention to the melody. Flutes reminded it of Ivy. As the last note died away, Hoid began a tale with the rhythm and ease of a story much rehearsed and well known. It was a tale of Cultivation, of gods, of love, and of division from oneself. TS was enthralled. It didn’t know anyone who told stories better than Jonny did, but Hoid might give him a run for his money.

The tale came to a close, and TS went to applaud, then stopped as Marius let out a very loud snore. “That was a wonderful story, old chap!”

Hoid grinned as he put away his flute, keeping the sand in his lap. “Was it, now? Did you understand it?”

“I didn’t understand a lick of it, but it was very well told!” TS declared cheerfully.

Hoid groaned and flopped dramatically back against his pack. “Wasted, I tell you. Wasted!” He picked up a small pebble and threw it into the fire. “I finally leave those idiotic nobles behind. None of them appreciate a well told story! None at all! But they’ll understand parts of it, at least. And then my next audience appreciates my skill as it deserves. But doesn’t understand it!”

“That sounds very trying.”

“It most certainly is!” Hoid looked at his white jar, then back at TS. “But I suppose I can tell you what you need to know. What do you know of spren?”

TS wished it could be more helpful. It did like its new friend. “Nothing at all, I’m afraid.”

Hoid gestured to the fire. “Do you see the red shapes dancing around the fire? The ones changing sizes constantly?”

“I do, good chap. They are most lovely!” They resembled little flames, but as TS reached out to touch one, it felt no heat.

“Those are flamespren. On this planet, many ideas and objects attract spirits of a particular kind - spren, they are called. Spren are the embodiment of a concept, and are drawn to their concept. Fires have flamespren. Winds have windspren. There are fearspren, and rotspren, and lightspren, and starspren.” Hoid gestured to the sky, and TS looked up. There were small lights dancing around the sky like shooting stars, set against the backdrop of the galaxies it was more accustomed to seeing. “There’s debate among the scholars on whether the spren create the thing, or whether the thing draws the spren, but in either case there is much the same result in the end. The Idea of a thing must be with the Thing, or both will cease to exist.”

“These spren are beautiful!” TS declared. “But your tale was about a being called the Nightwatcher, and I would like to know how that is related to the spren.”

Hoid laughed. “The Nightwatcher is a special spren. She is strong, and intelligent, more than nearly any other. She grants wishes to those who seek her, though the gifts come with a curse as well. You must be willing to accept the curse to accept the gift. If you visit her, she may help you with what you want to do. She does not help everyone, but if you are patient, she may be persuaded.”

“Oh, I must meet her! Where can I find her?”

“In the place of old magic.” Hoid placed his jar of sand, now black, into his pack, and pulled out a map. TS pulled its own map out of its uniform pocket and moved to Hoid’s side to see. “Head south and then west, passing through the nations of Jah Kaved and Triax. Follow the mountains. There is a valley, hidden and difficult to find, but there will be others traveling the same road who know the way. Tell them you seek the Nightwatcher and they will help you find where you need to go.” He replaced the map, then stood and hoisted the pack to his shoulders. “Farewell, little one. I do hope we meet again.”

TS raised a hand in perfect military salute. “I hope so as well. You seem a decent fellow, and this conversation has been most splendid! Thank you.”

Hoid returned the salute with as much mockery as Jonny could generally muster up and walked back into the night, footsteps echoing on the bare stone until he was out of hearing range. TS resumed its duty of watching. Tomorrow, it would start to the south while Jonny and Marius continued north. Until then it would watch, and sing to itself with the voice of an Angel as the flamespren danced around the dying fire.

Chapter Text

“And that insubordinate piece of brash couldn’t even drop me off at the fighting!” Jonny ranted, gesturing wildly as he marched across the barren landscape.

“Well, if you had just listened to Aurora the first time,” Marius began.

“Shut up!” Jonny waved him off and started humming to tune him out - the Wizard’s song from the Oz sequence, as it happened. It didn’t work nearly as well as he wanted it to. Marius still tried to make himself heard, though Jonny kept increasing the volume of the song as Marius tried harder to be heard.

“”As a captain, its your duty to-” “HMMM HMMM HM HMMMM”

“You really ought to-” “ HMMM HMM HM HMMMMMMMM”

“IF YOU COULD JUST-” “BUT THOUGH THE WIZARD SHOULD BE THERE, THEY COULD SEE ONLY WIRES-”

Marius gave up, finally, and joined in, singing the violin harmony line as they continued their march. Singing made the journey easier. This world was just so boring. The plants were even more sparse than the deserts of New Texas, and for whatever reason they would retract down into themselves at the smallest vibration, like a cowardly turtle retreating into its shell. Not proper behavior for a plant, if you asked him. Not at all. And there wasn’t even any proper dirt or sand. Just stone, and rocks, and more stone and rocks, as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t perfectly level, with dents and cracks and lots of small cliffs, and made for absolutely horrid travel. Brian could have at least offered to drop him off at one of the war zones. He’d just pointed in the direction that the Toy Soldier and Marius had gone off to, and Jonny had left him behind without saying goodbye. He felt a phantom twinge where his mechanical heart beat on. Which was dumb. He would see Brian soon, so what did it matter if Jonny had been rude? He was always rude anyway, and the Drumbot probaby needed a break form him anyway.

The song came to an end, and the two men lapsed into silence as they climbed down a short cliff. Marius went down first, offering a hand to Jonny which he took which he ignored, landing on his feet as he jumped to the bottom. “How long do you think we’ve been marching?” Marius asked, dusting off his hands.

“Dunno,” Jonny replied, squinting into the distance. “That map of yours know where we’re at?”

Marius shook his head. “TS was the only one who knew how to read it,” he replied.

Oh, yes, the Toy Soldier. Jonny grumbled once again. It had gone off on a wild goose chase a few days ago, spouting off some nonsense about white haired travelers and magic and spren before turning back around the way they had come. Jonny had tried to convince bully it into staying with him and Marius, but to no avail; and Jonny knew better than to order it around, now. He only wished he knew why the wooden man was like that. There were some fuckers in the universe somewhere who deserved a very painful death over that. “No use standing here,” he growled. “Might as well keep going.” A breeze picked up and swirled around him and Marius for a moment, small blue figures dancing in the breeze and trying to steal Marius’s map. “Stop that, you little shits!” Jonny yelled, trying to swat them away, but his hand went right through them. “Damn windspren.”

“Mischevious little buggars,” Marius agreed with a crooked grin. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Jonny grumbled. “Let’s keep going.” He started walking north again, roughly towards the place where Aurora had told the Toy Soldier that a war was happening.

“Um, Jonny?” Marius said nervously.

“What?”

“There’s… something. Following you.”

Jonny yelped kept himself composed as he spun around and drew his gun. A squamous looking thing was floating through the air. Jonny took a shot, and it vanished in a black blur. “Do you think that did it?” he asked worriedly.

Marius was scanning the surrounding area. “I think so.”

“Good.” Jonny nodded and slid his gun back into the holster, keeping one hand still on it, ready to draw at the slightest provocation. “Let’s keep going, then.”

They hadn’t traveled half an hour when Jonny noticed a black shape moving in the corner of his eye. He stopped listening to Marius’s infodump about Dionysus to watch for it. There it was again. He pulled his gun, spun around, and fired. Nothing was there.

“Jonny?”

He shoved the gun back into the holster. “Thought I saw something. Let’s keep going.”

“If you say so. What was it?”

“The squamous little fucker.”

Marius looked mildly concerned now. “Do you want me to take up the rear? It seemed to be following you.”

Jonny shook his head. “I’ll deal with it.” He gestured with his head, telling Marius to get a move on. The doctor scrutinized him for a minute, then shrugged and turned around to start marching again.

This time it wasn’t even five minutes when he saw movement again. “It’s back,” he called to Marius, who paused to look. “No, don’t turn around! You’ll scare it off!” 

“Are we trying to draw it out?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“I’m the captain and you have to listen to me!”

“First mate!” Marius did listen, though, and continued as though nothing was wrong. Jonny continued walking, watching the periphery as best as he could. A flash of black on the right. A flash of black on the left. And then suddenly, on the ground, a set of ridged lines made of the stone raced towards Marius.

“Marius, jump!” He did so, and Jonny fired a shot into the line's right where Marius’ feet had been. It was a direct hit! And yet the shape was unaffected. Marius raced back over to Jonny and they stood side by side, watching the lines. It moved like an octokitten under a bedsheet, raising the stone wherever it was at. Jonny was able to get a better look at the thing now. It was a circular pattern, constantly shifting, with a beautiful symmetrical order to it. Probably not a thing of the bifrost, then, but certainly squamous looking.

“Not like you to give me notice when you shoot,” Marius noted. Jonny grunted. Now was not the time to worry about saving face. They stood there watching the lines as they came towards the two, stopping a few feet away from Marius’s boots. Jonny saw another flash in the corner of his eye.

“There’s another one!” He yelped, and the doctor immediately went back to back with him, pulling out his own gun. This second one floated in the air, same kind of symmetrical lines but 3D now, and a different pattern. “What do you think they are? They’re not Bifrost.”

“Maybe those spren TS told us about?” Marius said.

“That dumb fairy tale it heard from the traveler?” Jonny scoffed.

“You’re too old to be scoffing at fairy tales,” Marius laughed. “I can’t think of anything else.” Jonny fired a few shots into the flying shape. “Stop that, you’re going to waste your bullets.”

“I’ll just pick some up at the first town we come into. They’re not working, anyway.” Jonny slowly replaced his gun, keeping a wary eye on the shape. He watched it for a minute, gripping the gun. Then he slowly dropped his hand down to his side.

That was a mistake.

The shape melted down into the ground, lines moving on the stone towards Jonny at a breakneck pace. It reached his feet in half a second. Then it climbed his leg. And finally, it slid into his vest.

Jonny would never admit it, but he shrieked like a Victorian lady would if a mouse did the same thing. Marius jumped and yelped behind him, but Jonny was a little too preoccupied with taking off his vest and shaking it to really see what he was doing. The shape was made of leather now, but as soon as Jonny took off the vest it transferred to a belt. Then to a different belt. Then to a shirt. And finally, when it had no clothes left to get onto, it melted into Jonny’s hand.

He couldn’t feel it, he realized, as he watched the pattern cycle through a series of forms. It was almost as if it wasn’t there to be touched, only an idea of a pattern, and not an actual pattern.

“So you like me, apparently.” The pattern chilled on the back of his hand as Jonny replaced his clothes, and then it melted back into the inside of his vest. Jonny draped a belt over it, and it started to buzz. Oh, that was just like an octokitten purr. Shit. “Well then, squamous little fucker, I guess you can hang out there if you really want to.” Jonny turned back to Marius, who looked hilariously disheveled. “You good to go?”

“I guess so,” he replied. “What happened to yours?”

“It likes the vest.”

Marius grinned. “Mine likes the hat.” He knocked on his helmet, where, sure enough, a light lined pattern could be seen against the black.

“Well, that’s that then,” Jonny said, and Marius nodded. They straightened up their clothes a bit and then took up their march, footsteps ringing on the stone. They would travel til the sun went down, and they would sing their songs together, and make camp together for one last night.. And the next day, as the two of them split to go their separate ways, Jonny would whisper a bit to the strange shape residing in his vest, and take comfort in the octokitten-like purr.

It was always so dreadful to be alone.

Chapter Text

Nastya woke to the murmuring of voices. She laid there, eyes closed, letting the sound of speech wash over her. She didn’t know the language, and didn’t recognize the voices, neither of which surprised her. Maybe if she indicated that she was awake, they’d switch to Common. Then again, maybe not. Might as well listen until her Mechanism started to absorb the language. She was stuck here, at least temporarily; she had nowhere to go, and nowhere she wanted to be. Despite her constant ache over Aurora, the idea of launching herself into a star was feeling less and less appealing.

She laughed bitterly to herself for a moment over the irony. An immortal, scared to die. It wasn’t that exactly, though. She knew full well that being immortal didn’t mean being impervious. Death was only an inviting prospect when she was able to fully believe it would work, and an eternity of pain sounded much less enticing.

She felt a few of her bones reknit as she listened to a nearby fire crackling. It was good to be near a fire, she supposed. She had been so cold in space, and so cold in the storm, and so very cold back on the ship, trying to hide from her love as best as she could while sorting out her mind. Of course, it’s hard to avoid a space ship when you live on her, but Nastya knew exactly where the places without cameras or screens were at, far away from the warm engine room where Nastya made her home. But now she was warm, and the crackle of the fire reminded her of Ashes.

Nastya took a deep breath, smelling the smoke as she thought of her family. Ashes, with their love of fire and delicate hands. Brian, with his heavy steps and gentle words. Ivy, with her nose in a book and a ready answer for any question. Jonny, with his ferocious grin and the smell of whisky on his clothes.

Her heart caught as she remembered Jonny. He’d been there when she left, hadn’t he? She remembered his betrayed face watching her as she cast herself into the void to die. Abandoning him.

They’d promised long, long ago, long before the others had joined the crew, that no matter what, they would have each other’s backs. Always and forever.

And then she’d left.

Nastya began to cry again, silently, heedless of the voices continuing on the other side of the room as the tears rolled down her face. She didn’t have many more left in her, though, because soon the tears dried up and she laid there empty of emotions. She tuned back into the voices as they started to make a bit more sense to her. Carmilla had designed a program in a later update to her Mechanism, something that would absorb the languages she heard if she was exposed to them long enough, and then reprogram her brain to be able to understand it. It had been painful, and Nastya hated Carmilla with a passion for it, but damn she had been a genius too.

“And you really have no idea where she is from?” the woman asked.

“None at all,” a man replied. His voice was high and reedy, with a musical feel to it. Each note was on a perfect pitch, but subtly enough that she may not have even realized it if she hadn’t been listening so closely. “I would bet that she is from very far away. Even further than I’ve ever travelled, and I’ve gone quite a ways in my time.”

“So you’ve told us,” said another man, sounding annoyed. “And yet you have told us nothing at all.”

“Oh hush, Lirin. Just because you don’t like riddles doesn’t mean that he has told us nothing.”

Reedy Voice laughed. “I do quite like you, Hesina. You’ve been a joy to speak with. Now, I believe our young woman here is waking.”

Hesina laughed. “Oh, she’s been listening intently for the last while, traveler. I’ve just been waiting for her to make herself known.” Nastya opened her eyes as Hesina came to her bedside. She had dark hair tied back in a handkerchief, a narrow face, and dark eyes. Oddly, she was wearing a glove on her left hand - just the one. “What is your name, dear?”

“Nastya Rasputina,” she replied. “Where am I?”

“The town of Hearthstone, in the Sadeas province.” Nastya looked at her blankly. “The Alethi kingdom?” Another awkward pause ensued, as Nastya had no idea what that meant but was clearly expected to. “Well, my name is Hesina, and my husband Lirin is the surgeon here. You’re quite lucky to be alive, you know. How did you end up caught in the storm? Were you alone? Are there others we should be searching for?”

Nastya shook her head. “No others. My shipmates-” she paused, realizing that the word hadn’t translated. “My crew -, hmm. Family? My family thinks I am dead, most likely.” She began to cry again. Fuck, she hadn’t cried this much in centuries, even before leaving the ship. Now she’d spent countless hours crying in perhaps two days that she’d been on this planet. But she missed her crew. Her shipmates. Her family. She’d lost a family for the second time, and the only place she’d ever truly felt at home. And it was too late for her now. She’d never find them in the countless possibilities of time and space.

As her sobbing faded a bit, she realized Hesina was trying to comfort her. “It’s alright, dearest. We will look for them. And in the meantime, you can stay with us.”

Nastya did her best to collect herself. “That is generous of you, but I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

Hesina fixed her with stern glare, holding more authority in that moment than she’d ever seen from Jonny. “Which is why you’re here, recovering from walking into a highstorm.” Nastya didn’t have a reply for that. “We will let you rest a bit before Lirin checks you over one more time. Hoid here is well travelled,” she said, gesturing to the traveler. “Perhaps he will know where to find your family. Do you have a preference for dinner?” Nastya shook her head. “Then I will bring it to you soon. Hoid, please come with us.”

“Wait,” Nastya croaked. The three of them stopped, the two men following Hesina, who was already halfway out the door. “I’d like to ask Hoid some questions.”

Lirin appraised her. “You feel up to parsing out riddles?”

Nastya smiled a bit, though sadly. “That’ll be alright. He can’t be nearly as bad as Brian.”

He nodded, then fixed Hoid with a glare. “No funny business.” Then he followed his wife out.

“Well then, little one. What do you wish to know?” Hoid swung his pack down and took the seat by her bedside. Nastya sat up and scooted back to lean against the headboard. She’d been dressed in a loose fitting nightgown that - oddly - covered her left hand but was open on the right side.

“Where are we, exactly? Planet? Star system? Galaxy?”

Hoid’s eyebrows raised. “So you did travel through the stars, then. I had my suspicions.”

“Get to the point.”

He laughed. “Sorry. To clarify, no civilization in this sector of the universe has achieved space travel yet. There’s a bit of interplanetary travel, but not through the means you’re used to."

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that however you got here, you’re not getting back the same way. But I can tell you that we are on Roshar, in the foot of the Knight Constellation. I’m not sure what our galaxy would be called for you, as I’ve not met people from any others in millenia. Have you heard of the Threnody system? Scadrial? Nalthis?”

Nastya shook her head; none were familiar at all. “Do none of the others have space travel either?”

“Not anymore,” Hoid replied. “Scadrial might in a few centuries. If you went there you’d probably speed it up for them, actually.”

Nastya groaned. “All I need are materials and I can build them a whole damn ship.”

“Well, let’s not get hasty, little immortal. Always easier to let them figure it out on their own first.”

“How did you know?” Nastya’s blood ran cold despite the warm fire.

Hoid grinned. “You may be the first person I’ve ever met who is around my age and not a Shard,” he replied. “That’s the most interesting thing I’ve learned in millenia!”

“I take it back,” Nastya muttered. “You’re definitely worse than Brian. Are you going to help me get to space or not?”

“Nope! Remember what I said about figuring it out on your own?” Hoid said. “I should have been going ages ago, but I had to say hello when you woke up. Once again, most interesting thing in millenia. But now I must scram. Give Hesina my regards!” And he scrambled out the door.

“Get back here!” Nastya yelled. She couldn’t follow him as the bones were still reknitting in her legs. And when she realized that, she became even more concerned. Had her Mechanism been damaged in space?

Hesina popped her head in the door before Nastya could worry about that too much. “Do you need something, Nastya?” She looked around the room. “Where’s Hoid?”

“He left me with more questions than he answered,” she replied grumpily.

“That sounds about right.” Hesina laughed. “I’ll be bringing in your dinner in just a few minutes.” She closed the door again, and Nastya was left to her thoughts.

For lack of anything else to do, she decided to watch the fire in the hearth. She was dreadfully worried about how long it was taking for her bones to reknit, but the fire was beautiful. It was so nice to be warm for the first time in what could have been a week, or could have been eternity. She really wasn’t sure. The flames jumped and shot sparks, one of which floated over to Nastya; she went to grab it, and her hand went right through. Not a spark at all, apparently. A spirit, maybe? It was the color of ash, but like the red ones around the fire it changed shape and size in an ever-morphing way. It sat on Nastya’s hand for a moment, growing and shrinking and shifting its shape, before bouncing back to the fire as if it had come over to say a quick hello.

Nastya smiled a genuine smile as the shapes, red and gray, danced around the fire. She was stuck here, at least for now. But maybe, just maybe, this planet would turn out to be an interesting one.

Chapter Text

Ashes sauntered down the alley in a nameless city in Azir. Well, it wasn’t nameless, exactly, but Ashes didn’t care about it, and to them that was the same thing. If they decided they liked it, they’d learn the name, or make a plan to have it named after them. If they decided they didn’t like it, they’d burn it down and have it named after them anyway. But for now, they were undecided.

The problem was that it was just on the edge of likeable. The thieving crews were relatively organized, with no main group in charge but several small bands that could easily be absorbed with the right touch. It was rich, bureaucrats and scholars sweeping down the street in their colorful loose robes and impractical caps, easy targets for a nimble pickpocket. It was beautiful and loud, with the endless arguing in the shops and news criers on every corner. Even the clothes were noisy, bright colored patterns clashing against each other in every single outfit. Ashes’ typical garb was bland by comparison.

But the culture!

The whole nation was a bureaucratic nightmare. The whole governing system here came down to book smarts, and it just didn’t sit right with Ashes. The concept was neat, sure. Get all your smartest people in a room and they just might make a solution to a problem. But with governments, solving one problem was never enough, was it? The ruler would solve a problem, and 6 more would spring up in its place. Rinse and repeat. Typical government behavior, of course, but generally the people knew that it was all bullshit. Not here. The people were proud of their ‘intelligent’ society and that they had ‘the capability’ to have ‘the fairest system.’ And sure, everyone goes to the same schools. Sure, everyone takes the same test. But what about a kid smarter than hell who doesn’t study because they’re busy keeping their family alive? What about the inevitable dumbass politician’s kid who gets private tutoring in every single subject? There was no such thing as a just system, and it boiled Ashes’ blood that many of these people could not see it.

And so they were undecided, musing on whether to stay as they walked through the marketplace of this nameless Azish city. They may not have book smarts like the people here, but that was Ivy’s territory anyway. Their strength was in people smarts, and they would prove that here as they did everywhere they went.

They passed into an alley and leaned against the wall, lighting up a cigar as they relaxed for a few minutes. They blew a smoke ring that would put Jonny to shame, watching idly as the hawkers proclaimed their overpriced wares and people rushed back and forth. People-watching was something they missed in the years between worlds. They laughed as a daring pickpocket danced in close enough to reach a wallet, just to be foiled by tripping over their target’s oversized cloak. Ashes dropped their spent cigar and ground it underfoot before retreating back into the alley.

Alleys were always the best place to learn about a city, Ashes figured. Roads, capitals, shops, they were all polished for the eye of the traveler, for the upper and middle classes to believe in. But they were never the heart of a place. The heart belongs to the people, and more often than not, the people belonged to the shadows.

A soft sound of footsteps came just behind them, and Ashes pounced like a panther.

“Let me go!” the kid shrieked, and then slipped out of Ashes’ hands as if she was covered in butter. She ran towards the end of the alley to the dead end, Ashes in pursuit, and stopped with her back to the wall.

Ashes approached cautiously. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” they said. They held their hands up unthreateningly and stood a few paces away. Plenty of time for the kid to react to anything they did. Gods, they hated scaring kids, but footsteps behind them had spooked Ashes badly. “I don’t take well to people sneaking up behind me.” The girl eyed them skeptically. “I’d also appreciate it if you returned the sapphire sphere from my back right pocket.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she tossed back the sphere. Ashes inspected it carefully. “This isn’t the same one,” they growled. “Mine was recently recharged and still glowing when I put it in my pocket this morning.”

The kid paled and bolted, trying to pass Ashes on the right. Was she… glowing? Or maybe it was dust in the air. They reached out to catch the kid, anticipating the duck (all orphan kids learned from the same school of hard knocks), but when their hand reached her clothes it was like the girl was covered in oil, too slippery to grab, and she dashed around out of the alley at inhuman speeds.

Ashes tried their best to pursue, but kids were damn tricky to track in crowds. It wasn’t worth it. So they stopped and inspected the sphere in the sunlight. It seemed to be legitimate, at least. It was hard to tell with a dun sphere, but they’d seen a lot of gemstones over the millenia, and this planet didn’t have the technology for lab-grown gemstones yet. This was real. And it was a broam, worth hundreds of the little marks that an orphan child was more likely to have on their person. An interesting conundrum, that. The Stormlight that accumulated in gemstones here during highstorms must have been drained by the kid somehow. Or maybe she’d had a mark of the same color gemstone, but dun. Either way, it was an interesting puzzle. Ashes pocketed the sphere, resolving to refill the Stormlight at the next storm. They watched the crowd for another moment before crossing the market square and heading down another alley. They’d have to keep an eye out for that kid.

Chapter Text

Ivy sauntered down the streets of Vedenar, hat pulled down against the hot sun. She shifted her pack to the other shoulder so that part of her back wouldn’t get too sticky; the weight was especially cumbersome with this miserable weather, but books were always worth the hassle. The pack she’d taken from Aurora was only half full, which was a bit unusual for her. Normally she would have acquired enough books to fill a chest by now, but she had a bigger goal in mind at the moment. The Palaneum was the largest library on Roshar, with nearly seven hundred thousand books and climbing in number every day. She could spend over a century in there reading, possibly two depending on length and acquisition rate. She just needed to present the entrance fee. And that meant stealing.

She swiped a fruit stick from a busy merchant’s stall and moved around a man piping for coins as she continued through the streets in her quest for a target, eating it carefully so as not to get juice on her gloves. A thousand sapphire broams was an exorbitant amount in the local currency, but would purchase unlimited lifetime access to all the information in the building. It was proving to be a hassle to acquire that, of course. Only certain individuals were rich enough to be able to afford such an amount, which made her list of possible targets limited. Ivy rather appreciated it, though. The large fee for Palanaeum access meant that the only people who used it would be properly careful with the books, and paid for restoration and preservation practices. Supposedly the rest of the money funded the Kharbranthian hospitals, but there was a 78% chance that that was simply propaganda by the king in Ivy’s experience.

And beyond the benefit of the books themselves, Ivy did always like a good heist. She hadn’t been quite prepared to tackle an economy where the currency was pure gemstones, so her typical methods of forgery and fraud were currently unavailable. She hadn’t dared to pull this heist in Kharbranth itself (there was only a 2.5% chance she would be caught, but if she was there was a 98.27% chance she would be banned from Kharbranth in general and the Palaneum in particular, and those weren’t odds she was willing to take), so she had purchased ship’s passage here to Vedenar by bartering her accounting skills, of all things. And now she wandered the streets looking for a target. Preferably one rich enough that a second heist would be unnecessary. The palace was too obvious and well-guarded; she bypassed it entirely. The bank was rather promising. The moneylender’s stalls might also be a good target, though would certainly require some bloodshed, and Ivy always preferred a bloodless heist. Violence was always fun, but stealth was a challenge and a welcome change of pace.

As the sun began to set Ivy ordered a dinner from one of the restaurants and took a seat at a table just outside the door. The waiter brought her what seemed to be turkey and a rice-like grain covered in a sweet sauce. Ivy thanked the waiter (manners were important), but made a face at the sweetness. Sweet food belonged in dessert and dessert only, and whoever had come up with gendered food deserved a fate by the hands of Jonny. As the waiter passed her again to take a table of men their food, she swapped her plate for one on the tray. Yes, spicy was much more appealing. The men at the table were in an uproar now that one of them had been served “women’s food”, which served to turn this into dinner and a show, but she made sure to slip an extra sphere under her cup as a tip before she left.

She wandered the streets some more as the first moon rose and the city began to quiet down. She walked at 60% of possible speed, quickly enough to appear to have a purpose but not so quickly as to be conspicuous. This worked a good 75% of the time but she was having an off day, apparently. 80% of the people she passed barely even glanced at her, but she was 70% sure she was being followed by the man she’d seen playing the flute around lunch time. He was thin, tall, and dark haired, and did not seem to fit in this place in a way she could not entirely pin down.

Ivy took a quick couple of turns to lose him, and it seemed to do the trick. The first moon set and the second moon rose, casting a green light across the streets. She took to the shadows and made her way back to the bank. She watched the road for a few minutes as the moon rose to mid-sky, just to get a feel for the traffic in this part of town at this time of night. There were, on average, 5 people on the street at any given time, not counting the two guards posted outside the door. There were certainly more inside of course. But if all went well, they wouldn’t be expecting her.

As she straightened the pack on her shoulders and began to step into the road, a voice startled her from behind. “Interesting strategy. Most thieves start from the back.”

Ivy turned around with a start. It was the flautist who had been following her. Apparently she would need to update her tail-losing strategies. “I do not know what you mean,” she stated in her best Librarian voice.

He laughed. “I know a joint casing when I see it.” Ivy pulled out a knife and poised to throw it at him, causing him to step back with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

She did not lower the knife. “Give me a good reason I shouldn’t kill you now.”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to see another interstellar traveler,” he said. Well, that explained why his appearance seemed out of place. Upon a closer inspection, his features did not resemble any person she had met on this planet. Generally that was not unusual to her, but Roshar was a little different. “I can’t place what system you’re native to. Scadrial, by chance?”

Ivy lowered her knife in a way that looked 48% less threatening but made throwing only 12% more difficult. “I was under the impression that interstellar travel was not a thing this civilization had acquired yet. Based on what I’ve seen I’ve calculated a 60% chance that it will take over 300 years to develop the necessary technology for a space ship, though I may revise my numbers after my research.”

He laughed uneasily, glancing at her knife. There was a 73% chance he’d recognized the change in stance based on his current posture. “There are many ways to travel. Interesting that one so long-lived as yourself wouldn’t know of them.” He ducked, and Ivy’s knife flew into the space where his head had been, quivering in the wall. He grimaced. “I really don’t feel like regenerating today so I think I’ll leave you to it. Good luck!” He bounced back down the alley as Ivy retrieved her knife, watching him in her confusion. Was he a Mechanism? He hadn’t displayed any of Carmilla’s handiwork. And what had he meant in those cryptic remarks about traveling? She made a note in her system to follow up on interstellar travel later and turned back to the bank.

She watched the lights in the window carefully as the minutes passed. Just before the third moon rose, she saw the lights in the windows move as the guards prepared to rotate.

It was time.