Chapter Text
The Echo of a man waited.Eventually some semblance of the Long Quiet should become aware and wake. That is what the memories of his creator had insisted. There were several half-thoughts scribbled in his awareness. The Long Quiet. The other bird. The dissociation if the tear was rougher between stasis and entropy. Knowledge of the stars and their luminosities and relative velocities compared to his home planet. Not that he had seen such for the last month he finished this construct with the blood red skies filled with illusory meteors among the panic of his people.
At the very least, this pause did not allow the Shifting Mound to escape.
For some reason the Echo felt like the Long Quiet would call its other half a princess. An archaic term, but if it has gendered its foe, named her, he’ll call her such.
If the echo could reach, he did, seeking anything to quell this waiting.
And then he found something and pulled.