When Serph woke, he remembered seeing a blue sky and the sound of the ocean, though he didn't yet remember what the latter was.
He starts dreaming of another life - strange that he knows what a dream is, when he's never dreamed before - where he's surrounded by the same four familiar faces in a land of sand and greenery and buildings that aren't dilapidated. He always sees Argilla, Heat, Cielo and Sera, in those dreams. He never sees Gale in his dreams. He never sees anyone else from the Tribe. They - the people of the Junkyard - don't know what a dream is and cannot answer him when he asks, but Sera does.
"Dreams are what you wish were real," is her answer. And she stares at him, long and hard, before looking away when he tilts his head in confusion.
It's a disconcerting thought. Where is the rest of his Tribe? Why are they not with him? Those are always the questions at the forefront of his mind, when he wakes without the threat of attack. They're questions he has the opportunity to ask himself more frequently as the Embryon grows, fattened from members of the other Tribes as leader after leader falls until there's no other leader left to kill except himself.
Serph thinks he likes stories.
When an unknown voice starts weaving a tale a princess and her two princes, he stops and listens, to the annoyance of Heat, move it, Serph! But he holds out a hand and Heat falls back into quiet grumbling. There's something about this story that feels oddly familiar, like he should know it. It's important, he thinks.
But as they ascend the tower, there is a feeling of disquiet that grows in the pit of his stomach. This story has too many parallels. And while he doesn't imagine himself as the good prince - it's not kindness that causes him to cut down all those who stand in their way - that startling similarity the princess' portrait bears to Sera, the description of the princes… the story is talking about them, isn't it? It's clear that's the conclusion Heat reaches, too, with the unusually subdued irritation that grows with every step they climb.
It's a hauntingly familiar story that makes him feel hungry, complicated by the fact it doesn't come from his demon.
Though he can't hear the narration over all the static, Serph knows how it ends. It's too obvious. Serph wonders if Heat knows the ending, too.
At the top of the tower, Serph frowns when Bat commands Heat to kill him. It's a logical order; the aim of those living in the Junkyard is ultimately the death of the leaders. Bat and Mick are just using lbeen dogging his mind ever since it started. When Heat turns around, quiet and bleeding, Serph knows this is re-enactment of the princes' duel to the death is more complicated than anything within the Junkyard.
Something from beyond the Junkyard.
No, I can't.
For a long moment, Serph doesn't know what to do in the face of Heat's advance. He stops fighting. The hunger leaves him. Heat looks like he's torn between rage and regret. Heat knows the ending to the story of the princess and her two princes. Serph thinks he's going to die.
But the re-enactment that doesn't go the same way as the story of this castle. He's glad their story is different. Heat isn't his enemy.
Heat is his comrade.
But the complicated feelings remain.
Serph thinks he likes stories, but not ones with sad endings.
When a girl from the Maribels - she's an Embryon, now - approaches him and asks him whether he wants to devour her, his initial reaction is to shake his head and say no; he has no desire to devour comrades. But the words die in his mouth as he looks at her - really looks at her - and realises she's speaking of something other than eating the fallen. How he knows that, he doesn't know, but it's a hunger he's both familiar and unfamiliar with. She's hungry, the same way he's been hungry ever since Coordinate 136.
He can remember pressing his mouth against Sera's in an act that looks startlingly like devouring in human form, but the pleasant sensation dictates otherwise. There is hunger in that act, a compelling hunger akin to the hunger of their Atma that is just as consuming, a desire to hold her tight and tangle their bodies together behind closed doors in an act of physical closeness.
But though he hungers… "Sorry," he says quietly but firmly, words drowning in the rain. "I can't." He can't pretend to be someone he isn't.
She looks hurt, as if he'd just hit her. Rejection, his memory unhelpfully provides, but the rest of his mind questions, Rejection from what? Her words are questioning, filled with the same lack of understanding that plagues all of them. "Why?"
Serph can't offer her an explanation. He gives Argilla a grateful look after she coldly suggests the girl stop wasting his time. Before the lights, he'd never found himself at a loss for words. Now, it happens too frequently, when there are so many questions he doesn't have answers to. Cielo and the others don't seem to mind as long as he keeps them moving forward; no one in the Junkyard has answers to any of the important questions.
When he sees the ship for the first time, he thinks it's supposed to be out on the ocean, steadily floating on the rolling waves. But when he casts his gaze out to the horizon, he remembers there are no oceans in the Junkyard. Something in his gut sinks when he gently refuses Sera and sees her disappointed face. It feels like he's said the same words before, but he doesn't know when.
While they're congregated in the ballroom - why is it called that, when there are no balls? - Serph keeps an eye on Sera as she walks down the faded carpet. For the first time, the uniform of the Junkyard seems ill-suited to her. She had been wearing something else at the time, Serph is certain of it.
What time was that?
When Sera leaves with Heat - and there's a twinge of unbidden jealousy he pushes aside - Serph casts his gaze back upon the ballroom. It's large and grand and majestic.
And he can see himself dancing with Sera.
Serph rubs absentmindedly at his face while Gale debriefs Argilla on her role in this trap, and the vision fades. He's accepted having feelings and emotions - what else can he do? - but the intrusion of memories that are both his and not bother him. In some ways, he can sympathise with Gale's quiet, understated frustration; these memories lie outside their realm of knowledge, pretending to have been there from the beginning, but never quite fitting in a way that fully makes sense.
These memories make him question who he is, and Serph isn't sure he wants to know what kind of identity these memories want to show him. But he knows one thing for certain. He's the Embryon's leader, and he has a mission that comes first.
Serph feels a little better, after they blow the ship up.
They arrive at their new base. Something has passed between Heat and Sera that he isn't privy to. Serph doesn't pry; he knows they wouldn't be able to tell him, either.
Besides, he doesn't know what he'd say if he did decide to pry.
He doesn't know a lot of things, these days.
Serph's hungry.
The feeling of odd familiarity fades when they pass through their territories. It isn't so long ago that only Muladhara belonged to the Embryon name, so there's an odd sense of pride, despite all their losses. Muladhara is familiar in a recognisable way, and seeing the lights and the Tribe members who had decided to stay behind goes a long way to soothe the confusion and unease he's been feeling ever since they had entered Coordinate 136. But he can't afford to linger on comfort, so he enters Svadhisthana's waterways, where Lupa gives them the lens to view the things that had been always within their sight, slightly out of focus.
That odd familiarity and unease returns the moment Serph steps foot into Ajna and turns his gaze to the large building that makes the Brutes' base of operations. Once he crosses the threshold to the building, Serph knows - instinctively, somewhere in his very being - that he's been here before, too. It's not like Coordinate 136, filled with love and longing and jealousy and despair. It's not like the deserted ship, filled with grandeur and romance. It's…
Sad. That's the word that comes to mind most readily. Serph turns his head as they make their way through the base, keeping an eye out for enemies and observing. There are paintings and books and a grand dining table, but they're all torn apart. Whatever happiness - the vision of blue skies and sandy beaches shows up in paintings with peeling paint - that had been here, it's gone now.
The feeling that he's somehow familiar with all this keeps him on edge.
The feeling that he's somehow done something unbelievably wrong keeps him silent.
Serph listens to Varin - with both curiosity and unwillingness - before allowing the others to devour Varin; there isn't enough of the Brutes' leader to share amongst five. Sera is conspicuously missing, so he opens the doors to the last place they haven't searched in this base. A vision of Sera guides him to the lone bed in the room - he still believes in her, despite Varin's words - and he finds a photograph lying face down on the covers.
It's a picture from his dream of blue sky and sandy beach. Argilla, Heat, and Cielo stand around Sera and himself, all smiling without Atmas, picture perfect.
Except there is no Gale, no Tribe, exactly like in his dreams.
Where is Gale? Where is the rest of his Tribe? Why are they not with him? "Dreams are what you wish were real," was Sera's her answer to his question.
Serph hides his growing feeling of dread as the others arrive.
Perhaps he's devoured them all.
Author's Notes: Started all the way in April. Finally sat down and finished this chapter, though it's not very polished. There should be 1 (or 2) more chapters after this.