Chapter Text
7th November, 1864
"Please, we have to end this. So many people are dying, nobody knows when this is going to stop and we're running out of ways to cover everything else up!" The young, new errand girl of the Robes stands before them, eyes wide and bleary like the moon's teardrops. "They're getting close to figuring out why we star-"
"Silence!" A distorted roar stitches her mouth shut quicker than anything else could. "We are thinking."
As silent, mental messages transfer between the Robes, the girl trembles in hushed, visceral fear, not daring to interrupt their psychic communication. She can almost hear a low, twinkling whirr floating through the air, as if their thoughts are somewhat mechanical, or powered by a generator.
"Rhoda, how do you suggest we end this war?" The Robes, although being a group of deity-like superiors that are highly intimate with the world's population, want to have a human perspective on current events.
"…Abraham Lincoln." Her meek demeanor dissolves, when this name leaves her lips. "The reptoid, who graduated top of his training sector, and won the U.S presidential election."
"We know who that is, you insolent fool. How is he useful to us, how can we use him?" The middle Robe's patience has been cut short. They are known as the most effeminate robe, the only one with any nod towards a traditional, biological sex, because of their difficult nature and overall attitude.
"He- He's smart. He knows how to end this war, but he won't do it because of the senate! You have no control over the senate, you need to warp them before it's too late, and the country collapses." Rhoda's passion for this topic actually pleases the Robes.
"Do you think we are not in control of the senate, girl?" The rightmost Robe adopts a patronizing tone, because it just seems so clear to anyone involved with their craft that they are in control of anything and everything.
"No, I do not. It seems as if they all have conflicting views, and that is just driving this new world further away from itself. The people are looking for answers. They are looking too far into it, and they are getting too close to the truth." It seems her faith in the president has accelerated her into a frenzy, and she has found her true flame in keeping everything covered up.
"You possess the qualities we admire, Rhoda. We can only concentrate on things of the utmost importance, and we have been thinking of branching out into the human world. How would you like to be in control of that branch?" Although they're not staying on topic, the Robes are proposing something incomprehensible to someone who looks up to them so much.
"What? That has nothing to do with what I am telling you, you must end this war! Re-elect Lincoln, abolish slavery, and tell those gosh-darn Atlantians to sink deeper in the oceans if they don't like the sound of the war-ships!" The fire in her eyes is exactly the kind they have seen before.
"…Very well." As the Robes have taken in her complaints, and ideas, the stone plate she's stood on begins to rumble. "You best be going now. We will speak to you soon."
Even though Rhoda still has so many questions, she's being swiftly slid out of the room, with some kind of new-found technology that the rest of the world hasn't been exposed to yet.
The walls beside her rush, as the door to the Robes slowly shuts itself. She's submerged in the smell of moss and gunpowder. That'd usually disgust her, but she can't help thinking about their offer. The human leader of a group amassing the smartest, sharpest people in the free world, manipulating every decision that the population makes.
Rhoda Roy, in charge of everything, and everyone. It's not hard to picture.