Chapter Text
The desert air was as arid and hot as he remembered.
Truthfully, he didn’t remember much of Sigonia. The slaughter of his people was a looming giant that overshadowed everything, and even when he wished to remember the happier days it was always tinged with a shade of desperation, hazy and red with hunger, darkened with the draping grief of losing a life he had known and surviving when others much more deserving didn’t.
But he remembered the heat, the sting of it on his skin. There was a reason people of Sigonia wore long sleeves and cloaks when they could, jackets and loose pants and as much color as they could afford before the sun bleached everything white. This, at least, was something familiar. This was something he could handle.
Feathers, rustling against his cheeks. Despite everything, he let a small smile grace his lips. His hand reached out to touch the soft feathers and he felt the owl’s claw gently touch his fingers in return. Gently, he shifted and opened his cloak, offering the owl to perch upon his arm and hide from the sun in the safety of the fabric. The owl paused, then complied, beak clapping appreciatively.
He arranged the fabric to securely keep the sun away and continued his trek. He had a task to fulfill.
His double-gloved hand held the plastic bag containing the curio as he studied it, filled with cautious curiosity. The mirror’s surface was foggy, no longer casting reflection, but that was apparently a good thing.
“So Ratio looked into this and got turned into… that.” He turned to the bird perching silently at the table.
Even as an owl, Ratio looked as serious as ever, eyes sharp and glowering. His feathers, brown mottled with cream, gave an odd bluish sheen at some specific angles of light, gray beak pulled into unpleasant frown while his claws clenched and unclenched on the desk lamp he had decided to perch on. He was smaller than Aventurine expected, but that didn’t stop him from having the doctor’s big personality; he glared at Aventurine, apparently displeased.
Not like Aventurine could blame him. Who’d like to be turned into an owl without any discernible way of turning back? Though Aventurine couldn’t help but think that he made a very cute owl despite the disgruntled look – or maybe because of the disgruntled look? He was also extremely fluffy, and Aventurine had to tamp down his growing want to pet Ratio.
By his side, Screwllum gave a nod. “Affirmative. This curio is capable of turning a biological life form into another. Doctor Ratio is currently a little owl, scientific designation Athene noctua , a species of owl from a faraway planet rich in water. My apologies; I should have been the one handling it, but as we thought it was broken and inactive, I grew complacent.”
Aventurine frowned. “Well, I get that, but what should we do now to turn him back? Will this just wear off on its own, or is there anything we can do to help him?”
Screwllum lowered his head in a show of somber apology. “Unfortunately, as of now we have no means of turning him back into a humanoid.”
Aventurine paused and put the curio down, turning to Ratio. “Doc, when you said I should help you test the Divergent Universe’s slot machines this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Ratio let out an indignant hoot. Aventurine sighed.
“You said as of now ,” Aventurine said to Screwllum. “So is there maybe a way in the future, or some other curio you don’t currently have, or something?”
Screwllum paused. “There might be a way.”
Stepping into the Astral Express felt surreal in more ways than one. He had accepted that while Stelle was willing to forgive him and hang around so long as he could pull on her game accounts every now and then, but the other members were a bit distant, likely uncomfortable to truly get closer after what he’d done at Penacony.
And yet here he was, with Himeko calmly helping him chart a course to their destination, standing by Dan Heng who supplied information from the wealth of the Express’ data bank, Welt’s scarf draped upon his shoulder – rather forcefully, as the man had put it on the moment he saw him shudder in the Express’ conditioned air and pretended not to see his attempts to give it back. March was the only one who really showed any hint of suspicion when he boarded, but that disappeared when she read the letter he’d written before he started this journey.
“Course has been charted,” Himeko announced. “We should be able to make the jump sometime tomorrow evening, planet time, as we still need to restock our pantry. Would that be amenable to you?”
He smiled and nodded. This was already so much more than he could have ever hoped for. Even being welcomed onboard had been a cause of celebration for him.
The owl perched at one of the seats gave a small hoot. With a silent flap of wings, the owl relocated to his shoulders and gave a bow at Himeko.
Himeko smiled and nodded. “It is my pleasure, Doctor. Now, since we are still preparing, would you like to see the room you can use while you are onboard the Express? We can have separate rooms for you if you want… no?” She tilted her head when he shook his head. “Well, I suppose we can have you share if that’s what you want. Come then, I’m sure Mr. Yang is done preparing your room.”
Said room was a relatively nice one. It wasn’t as large or luxurious as his old apartment in Pier Point, but that place had always made him feel a little caged; reminded that all the riches were only borrowed and could be taken away at a moment’s notice. Borrowed gold, never his own.
But this… he had a feeling the Nameless would let him have this forever if he wanted it. They’d press this into his hands and insist he kept it, if it was small enough, just like how Welt had given his scarf and refused to take it back.
It was a relatively bare room, with nice cream walls and a large window overlooking the cosmos, plain white blinds rolled up above it. A carpet, royal blue with teal swirls, took its space just under the bed, which itself was covered in royal blue sheets and covers, golden pillows resting daintily atop of it. Bare shelves, desk, and open, empty closet lined the wall, and there was a perch standing by the bed.
“Mr. Yang? They’d prefer to share a room, please,” Himeko announced to Welt, who was standing in the room studying the one empty wall.
“Hm? Ah, we could put the supplies here as well, then,” Welt said. “I suppose it is for the best. I wasn’t sure what else to put in here and Doctor Ratio’s room only had a bird perch.”
He gave a deep bow to show his gratitude. Himeko smiled, and Welt gave a small, light chuckle.
“Don’t worry about it. It is the least we can do for anyone boarding the express,” Welt said easily.
It still felt like a gift. He could only hope his eyes could convey how grateful he was.
The shuttle was empty save for the both of them. Aventurine stared at the expanse of space, watching stationary stars streak by as the shuttle sped off, away from Pier Point.
He had put in his resignation letter, took in what little belongings he had that he had any emotional attachment to, and told Topaz that he had an important mission he had to work on, asking her to take care of the three cake cats Ratio had gotten him. Topaz had said yes but narrowed her eyes suspiciously when he couldn’t give a clear timeline on how long it would take to finish said mission. Nevertheless, she said yes, and didn’t ask more questions. That was all Aventurine could hope for. Topaz was a bleeding heart and had always had a soft spot for cute critters. She would take care of the cats well.
Jade knew. He brought up his predicament and made it clear that he would help Ratio, no questions about it. He had pushed his Cornerstone to her to show his resolve.
Jade had looked at him, sharp eyes studying him like a bug under a magnifying glass. “So you will be gone for an undisclosed amount of time.”
“Yes,” he had answered.
“The IPC would have dropped Dr. Ratio. You know that, don’t you? He may be more brilliant than scholars in the Guild, but there are always other talents we can grab.”
“I know.”
“If you do this,” Jade had leaned forward, gaze steely, “the IPC would drop you. You will no longer be Aventurine of Stratagem. Any protection you have will be gone. Slavers will come after you, people will go for your bounty, the IPC may even add their own bounty on top of that. Your past is not devoid of crime. I may be sent to retrieve you and administer proper punishment.”
Aventurine closed his eyes, then, resigned. “I am aware.”
Jade leaned back. Her sharp nails drummed against the lacquered desk. After a brief moment of silence, she nodded. “You have one day,” she said. “After that, you’re on your own.”
Aventurine startled. A day was more generous than he’d expected.
But Jade had simply smiled at him. “Do come visit once the good doctor is well. If he marries you, you may gain protection through him. That’s the least he can do after you give up your status as a Stoneheart.”
She had laughed when his face burned red. When he left, he thought he saw her smiling wistfully at him.
It was only three days later that his bounty was aired.
There was a curio , Screwllum had told Aventurine.
A type of curio, to be exact. Crafted for one exact purpose, and would cease to be once it had fulfilled its duty. Aventurine thought it was romantic, in a way; when you couldn’t wish upon a star or catch one of your own, simply make one.
Anyone could make it, if they really wanted to. Craft their own shooting star. Imbue something with a wish so strong the universe could do nothing but grant it. A personal wishing star, it would have to be something important for the maker, made from something personal, meaningful.
Anyone could try making it. Not everyone succeeded.
“It will be hard,” Screwllum had said. “It will be as though the world is against you. You cannot receive help in making it. And there is a sacrifice you must make.”
“What kind of sacrifice?” Aventurine had asked.
“It depends. Some people put blindfolds on themselves to sacrifice their sight for as long as it takes to craft the curio. Some may fast, or remain immobile. Break this condition, and the curio is destroyed immediately, and there is no way to redo the process.” Screwllum paused. “The greater the sacrifice, the stronger the curio.”
Aventurine thought. He couldn’t sacrifice his sight; total darkness would have been suicide. Something personal would mean something from Sigonia, and traversing the desert alone would be impossible without his sight. Not his hearing, either. He had no idea if there was any Katican survivor, and not being able to hear them coming would be disastrous.
His voice, though. He may not be able to get out of sticky situations without it, but he could do without. “What if I stop speaking? Or make use of my vocal cords, really,” he asked Screwllum.
Screwllum thought it over. “I believe it would suffice, yes.”
There was some leeway. He had to declare his intentions before the process could start. And so, he made his preparations and brought Ratio with him, still clumsy in his new body and still unable to fly.
In the quiet of the night, as silent, faraway stars dimmed by, he turned to Ratio and stared into his uncanny eyes that didn’t look like they fit into the body of an owl – too old, too wise, too smart .
Ratio wobbled over and placed a claw gently on his hand, startling yellow-and-red eyes staring straight into his. He let out a small, soft coo. A plea to commit to this? A reminder that he could back out?
There was no backing out. Aventurine had already defected, and soon people would come for his head. He could try going back and begging Jade to take him back in, but this would forever mar his records, burned into his back as a metaphorical brand. He was not to be trusted again, as his heart was too easily swayed by the one man who’d ever given him enough attention to treat him as a human being.
“Dr. Veritas Ratio,” he said into the expectant silence of the shuttle, “I promise you I will make that curio, and I will turn you back.”
The magic of the yet-to-be-made curio bound him. He knew, then and there, that if he uttered any word, let his voice loose, the binding would be broken and Ratio would forever be stuck an owl.
It was only by chance that he passed by the Astral Express, and he was lucky to have written a letter explaining his predicament as vaguely as possible, and it was all too fortunate that the Astral Express crew were willing to help him despite their tumultuous past.
But he supposed, even if all else failed, Mother Gaiathra’s gaze still lingered on him.
The Astral Express crew let him off with a pack full of rations, water, and water purifying tablets – though he wasn’t sure how useful the last one would be considering how Sigonia was. They insisted he texted Stelle if he ever needed help and they would come running – and text Stelle specifically, because she checked her phone every five minutes waiting for texts from other people and updates for her games. They also put on a cloak on him to block the sun. Stelle, ever the brave lady, gave Ratio a gentle pat.
“You keep an eye out for this reckless mess of a man, okay?”
He wished he could talk right then. Stelle had no place to lecture him when she was the way she was. Evidently, Ratio agreed because he gave her an unimpressed glare.
Stelle only laughed. “Stay safe, you two.”
He’d been worried he would have a difficult time navigating the terrains, but it was like an old, slumbering part of him was shaken awake the moment his feet planted itself in the golden sands. He supposed even after he left there was a part of him that was forever stuck in the sands of Sigonia, and it rose and guided him when he finally came home. He glanced up at the painfully bright sky, the unforgivingly scorching sun, and decided he needed to find shelter, first and foremost.
He was far away from any tribe, which was both a good and bad thing. It meant he didn’t have to worry about possibly fighting anyone due to being an Avgin, but it also meant he was far away from crucial resources. He would have to make do with the supplies the Astral Express crew had been kind enough to give him.
Dan Heng had also given him a small tent, which would come in handy. Knowing trying to push through in the scorching heat would only work against him, he picked a direction and walked until he found a jutting rock where he could rest in the shadow, avoiding the strongest rays.
Ratio, who had been hiding in his cloak, pushed out and fluffed his feathers. The owl turned at him, clapping his beaks, tilting his head as if trying to ask him something.
With a smile, he pointed at the scorching sun in the sky. Ratio glanced up and nodded wisely, then made himself comfortable perching on his shoulder. He had been worried the weight would bother him, but Ratio was surprisingly light. He’d brought bags far heavier than the owl. Heck, even the pack full of supplies was heavier.
He looked up at the sky and thought of what to do. In truth, he was so worried about potentially not being able to escape the IPC before reaching Sigonia that he didn’t really think about what to do once he’d gotten here. Where should he even go?
Well, first plan should always be to find resources. He would never be able to survive if he didn’t have water and food. The supplies would only last him so long. He had landed in the sandy part of the desert, but he remembered his tribe would often stop in rockier terrain, looking for vegetation in hope of finding water deep underground. They didn’t always succeed; the plants’ roots could always reach deeper than their shovels, but that didn’t stop them from cutting stems from plants to eat.
Caves, as well. If he could find caves, he could find shelter, and possibly water. Deeper caves often led to reservoirs, though the problem became whether the reservoir already had people claiming it or not… or if the wildlife that found home in it would see him as a threat.
They probably would. Good thing he could still make shields even without the Cornerstone.
As the sun slowly dipped, he made a plan in his head, bare-bones as they were. When he deemed the sun no longer scorching enough that he was in immediate risk of heat exhaustion, he carefully climbed the jutting rock to gain height and create a vantage point. Far, far away, he thought he saw a glimmer of green, and not a shimmer that would indicate the false water that only promised more sand. He nudged at Ratio and pointed at the faraway green.
Ratio flapped his wings, once, twice, and hopped to perch at his pointing hand. He then turned back to give a nod.
Destination charted, they resumed their trek.
Growing up, there were stories shared around campfires.
The desert may be unforgiving, but it wasn’t without its resources. Beautiful stones jutted out for their hands to take, if they knew where to find them, if they knew how to polish and string them. Vegetation grew around water sources, and it was a race to stake a hold over them before other tribes could claim them. Sometimes, tribes would agree to share the oasis. Sometimes, fierce battle would take hold.
As a young Avgin, he too was taught to take the stones gratefully, to coax water into his waterskin, to take what plants to eat and what to weave into cloth. He still remembered how to create threads out of bombi moths’ pupa shells, to take strands off witch’s welt to weave fabric, to coax sweet nectar from century crowns. Sigonian bees were aggressive and protective of their hives, but the Avgins had forged a somewhat amicable relationship with them by killing predatory vespis wasps that would feast on the beehives and offering century nectar in droughts. Affectionately, the Avgins began calling the bees mellis, and they lived alongside one another, carrying the mellis’ hives in well-worn boxes made from the few chiya trees they would encounter. If there was nothing else to eat, they at least had honey their mellis would willingly give.
There were fruits to take from cacti, vegetation to eat, fauna to hunt. Sometimes, mornings came with dewdrops hanging off the tips of succulents, and sometimes cold fog would roll in the dark of the night, and by morning there would be enough dewdrops to drink. He would need to either learn to create weapon constructs from his Imaginary powers or make one from resources he could find. Either way, harsh as it was, he had once lived here and he could live here again.
To his luck, the patch of green he found was unclaimed by anyone. It was lush, in comparison to the rest of the rocky desert. There were cacti, looking like they were starting to fruit. Multiple succulent species sprouted from the ground, and quite a few of them should be edible. A few century crowns were also there, as well as witch’s welts. While there was no visible water, it was possible that there was water deep underground, and he might be able to draw out some water.
Ratio hopped out from the safety of his cloak, flapping his wings once, twice, and soared. He circled around the biggest, tallest cactus in vicinity and gave a loud hoot. Upon inspection, he realized that Ratio had found a small hollow in the cactus, and he likely had decided he could rest there.
Truly, Ratio had gotten much better at flying. He’d been training himself in that tiny shuttle they stole away, and in their shared room in the Express. He’d been wobbly at first, dropping like stone at the start and slowly gaining skill and confidence. He was never undeterred despite his many failures at the start, but it made sense that Ratio was the sort of individual that understood failure was just another part of succeeding in the end.
He wasn’t sure if he’d have the same grace with the curio. He knew about how it would break before he could even start if he allowed himself to speak, to allow his voicebox to make any sort of noise. But he didn’t know what would happen if the curio itself wasn’t even viable to use, and he wasn’t willing to take any chances.
A loud screech snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, searching, and realized that Ratio was flapping around furiously, trying to shake off a swarm of bugs.
Vespis wasps. Those were vespis wasps around him, angrily trying to sting. He reached out and created a shield with a thought, slapping away the wasps from Ratio. The wasps buzzed angrily around the shield.
Carefully, as he created a shield around himself, he searched. He found the wasps’ hive at a hidden side of the cactus Ratio had wanted to rest in, large hanging monstrosity with wasps coming in and out frantically.
He considered the strength of his shield and decided this was worth the effort. He never liked the vespis wasps; they tended to attack whatever was in sight even if they posed no threat to their hive, and their sting was painful enough that a grown man would wish he was dead. From a glance, it seemed Ratio was alright, but he’d have to check later if the wasps had managed to land a sting on him. Casually, he reached at the nest and pulled it in his shielded hands, feeling the distant feeling of papery nest material.
The wasps buzzed louder, trying to sting. More clambered out of the hexagonal chambers to defend the hive, but none of them could penetrate his shield.
Good. Even without the added power from the cornerstone, his own abilities was at least strong enough for fending bugs. He’d have to see if his shield could fend off other, stronger things, but this was at least a confirmation that he was strong enough to survive even without surrendering himself to Diamond’s rule again.
Methodically, he began peeling the hive off. Ratio, now safe with his shield in place, hopped down to watch him work, both of them ignoring the wasps. The shield would hold, and there were more inside the hive anyway. Sure enough, the wasps soon surrounded him, furiously stinging to no avail. He swatted them off, occasionally flinging Imaginary energy that lanced through them. The wasps unfortunate enough to be caught in the line of fire soon dropped off, dead.
The hexagonal chambers made itself visible. He ruthlessly tore it down, picking the larvaes and setting them aside. The wasps grew ever more frantic at that.
Ratio seemed to concentrate – it was hard to tell, with him being an owl and all – and flapped his wings once. The shine of Imaginary energy blasted off his wings, and he paused to watch lances of Imaginary energy pierce through the wasps. They dropped to the ground, singed and dead. He stared at Ratio, who landed and ruffled his feathers, blinking at the wasps as if in thought.
The doctor, even as an owl, could still use Imaginary energy. That was a good thing, at least.
With a smile, he continued disassembling the wasp nest. A part of him felt bad about this, but it was probably for the best. Vespis loved eating other insects, and a hive this size could decimate the oasis’ entire bug population considering how greedy they were, and they had no qualms about stinging any creature coming closer to the oasis. It wasn’t uncommon for a hive to decimate entire bug populations in an oasis and then dying soon after from lack of food. The surviving queen or queen-to-be would then move to another oasis to start the cycle all over again.
Another pull, and he dismantled the nest fully, reaching the innermost chamber where most of the larvae were. He smiled, looking at the wriggling larvae, pulling one of them and showing it off to Ratio. The doctor simply peered down at it, back up at him, and tilted his head in apparent confusion.
He huffed a laugh and brought the larva to his lips, biting it off in the middle and chewing. Ratio blinked at him as he savored the taste; meaty, rich. He thought he still remembered what it tasted like from childhood, but he was wrong. It had been so long that his memory had diluted the experience to its bare bones. After so long eating luxurious food Jade taught him to eat, rich with seasonings foreign to his tongue and textures that stopped being a novelty after he’d had to push more and more down his throat, swallowing his own longing for food from his own tribe after realizing so many would look down to his culture, he had forgotten that this was a delicacy. Finding vespis nest you can raid was near impossible to begin with, and not many wanted to brave the stings. But this taste and texture… it felt like he was finally coming home after losing it too many times to count.
He offered the remaining half to Ratio, who carefully took it with his beak. His gaze lit up upon eating, though, and he went to pull at the nest himself, trying to get at the larvae.
His smile grew and he resumed his work, setting the larvae aside and discarding the nest materials. The wasps still buzzed aggressively around them, but Ratio methodically picked at them until not even one was left.
Well, one was left. The queen, the biggest wasp of the bunch, buzzing furiously and trying to sting his fingers. Ratio swooped in and pecked, beak mercilessly snapping the queen in two. The queen waps twitched on the ground, wings fluttering, and soon stopped moving.
The surviving larvae would be dinner. He could use the papery nest material to help start fire. He offered more larvae for Ratio to eat, but Ratio pushed his hand back to his chest, a clear message that he should feed himself first.
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Just from size alone, of course he’d need more food than Ratio. He should remember to set aside a few for Ratio later, but he’d prefer his cooked. Could Ratio, as an owl, eat the things he would season his food with? Maybe he could make a separate batch.
He secured the larvae under the cactus and went to get the tent up. This was a good spot; he could live off the vegetation here, and he could find a way to make a well to get water. Water meant animals would come, which meant he could hunt for food. And that witch’s welts promised threads . If he was lucky, he might find some bombi moths to get silk.
By the time the tent was up and a fire started, the sun had slowly glided down, painting the sky red with incoming dusk. Good thing the fire was already going; it got cold at night in the desert. He took out the pan he’d brought along with him and patted a drop of oil onto it, simply to make sure things wouldn’t get sticky. He didn’t have a way to get oil or fat here just yet. The cooking oil he brought with him had to last.
Setting aside some unseasoned larvae for Ratio to eat and continuing to cook his own, he looked up to the sky. Clear; with smatterings of stars like a careless spray of white paint against dark canvas, a quiet gibbous moon shining serenely while its two sisters peeked in crescents. Good. He would need water, but right now, he didn’t need to deal with rain on top of everything else.
When dinner was done, Ratio perched on the tent and gave a single, firm hoot . He got the message loud and clear. With an amused huff, he retreated into his tent and bundled himself in the thermal blanket Stelle had shoved into his bag without saying much of anything, laying down to sleep.
Once upon a time he would fall asleep in a tent with his sister, the night watchers of his tribe keeping an eye on everything else as they tended to the fire to keep the campsite warm. Here, falling into slumber with the dying crackles of the fire he had built while Ratio kept watch, he thought it was similar enough.