He smiled at the feel of it, the thrumming sense of belonging in the mist-floored organic machine as he runs a hand fondly over the mottled wall. But this was different. This wasn't any of the Hives he had occupied before, and the decorations seemed almost overdone in places. He strode down the corridor, finally entering into a room that bore resemblance to a hall. Lights, candles, flickered on either side, flanking the niches in the wall that bore statues carved from black jet. A dais, complete with Queen's throne, sits occupied directly before him. But unlike how he knows it should be, he can't feel the pulsing strength of her power even as she sits almost limp in the structure. His approach was steady, before he finally and automatically knelt before the figure that he was biologically, instinctively, designed to serve. That was when her head rose, and his golden eyes widened once a clawed hand tipped his chin up. Where a serpentine pupil should be in the right, a blue human eye peered back with mirth evident in the expression.
He raised his head properly then, before surprise showed on his pale green features as he regarded her. Her skin was waxy tan, a rare colour among their species, and her hair a pristine, flawless black that fell, much like his own, in tangled curls about her shoulders. Her posture was confidant and entirely self-assured, with her figure embraced within the lover's tight grip of dulled leather in the form of a floor-length dress complete with panels of embossed velvet and a mandarin collar. The sleeves draped to almost cover her hands, which bore the traditional finger guards and yet, unlike most, wickedly curved talons that put even his claws to shame. They added an almost feral elegance, and all of this he grasped in just that single glance before rising to his feet. He recognised her, and she him even in this timeless state of mind.
"How did you do this, Prisca?"
"I do not know, nor why I have appeared like this. I was meditating."
"As was I. I can only presume that this is the most neutral place our minds fashioned when our consciousnesses reached the same state in our close proximity. This would also explain why you have taken on a form that I recognise as of my own species."
She nodded, before rising out of the throne in a smooth movement before pacing over towards one of the large hull windows, the action accompanied with the whispering rustle of material. After a pause, he joined her; dark and light, male and female, true and false kindred stood side by side. He peered out at the nebula system before them, taking in the beauty of the swirls of golden colour flecked with greens and reds. Nothing his kind, or humans for that matter, could produce ever compared to the natural wonders of space. He remained by her side, not quite touching but close enough to wordlessly state a dominant, almost protective role over the false Queen. While he might have taken offence had it been anyone bearing actual wraith ancestry deceiving him in such a way, her lack of appropriate coding meant that this was merely coincidence, designed to comfort rather than offend.
"I feel... right. Is that normal?"
He tilted his head a little to the side at her question, letting a faint purr out of his throat before responding quietly in equally hushed tones.
"It is logical. You prey on what we do, only in a less harmful form. Your body is weaker than ours, and you must rely purely on going unknown to hunt what you require. It is no wonder that in your ideal mind, you are wraith."
This seemed to satisfy her, a faint chuff coming from her direction before she angled her head up to look at his. Even in this sleekly muscled and intimidating guise, he still stood at least half a foot over her in all his superior, older glory.
"May I get a tattoo?"
"In reality or in this dream world?"
"Here."
While aspects of her appearance and bearing already marked her out, tattoos for wraith were often as much an aesthetic quality as they were to mark rank and occupation. As he doubted that such a sign would transfer onto her slumbering physical body, he saw no harm to be found if this world, this Hive, remained cut off from the normal passage of time.
"I shall think on it. I am sure a design can be found."
"Is it normal for me to be so tired?"
He stepped away from the window then, leading her back towards the throne with his guiding hand on the small of her back as she ascended the levelled dais again before almost reclining in the organic furniture. He remained standing, before finally moving his hand to rest on one of her shoulders and lowering his head enough to whisper into one, unusually, slightly pointed ear.
"Sleep..."
Her figure seemed to shiver, much like a hologram might if touched, before slowly fading out of sight. He kept his distance, and then stalked back to the wall again to peer out at the glittering cosmos. Yet another development. But this time, it was one that he would hold like a secret from the likes of the Atlanteans. It did not concern them, unless her behaviour suddenly changed as a result. They needed to know nothing. Inhaling deeply and taking in his surroundings for the last time, his own form then shivered out of the liminal plane as he sank into unconscious bliss.