I'm going to do answers to questions every few chapters on my blog. If you can wait to have your question answered post it in your review, if you want it answered now, send me an ask. If you send it to both you're gonna have to wait.
If Altair knew he'd willingly gone off alone with Cain he'd literally flip his shit so hard he'd probably hurt himself. But Cain wasn't dangerous. Desmond knew that. Cain, for all the bullshit Altair spouted, had never hurt Desmond. Sure maybe a little, momentary, ache, but not bruises that lasted for days, or cuts that criss crossed parts of his body. No, his ancestors had done that to him. Compared to them Cain was practically harmless. The only person Cain had ever wanted to hurt was Altair. Everyone else was just in the way, and if you were in Cain's way he'd just plow through you.
Desmond felt reasonably safe around Cain.
They'd left the nursery, Cain just beckoning and Desmond followed him into the lift. He leaned against the back wall as Cain tapped out where in Demeter he wanted to go. Desmond said nothing. He didn't know Cain, but he knew immortals. They always had a plan, had an angle, and Cain wouldn't talk or answer any questions till he was good and ready.
"How many times has this happened?" Cain asked, turning around to look at him.
"The seeing thing? Never, just this once," Desmond said, arms crossed across his chest.
"Have the AI REM interfaced with you?"
"Yes."
"Can you move when they do?"
"Yes."
"How often does this happen?"
Desmond shrugged, "They did it a few times before the world went to shit, and then while I was away they gave me updates once a week or so in my sleep. So I knew I was going the right direction, since those in their cores were unable."
Cain appraised him a moment, "REM interfacing is forced dreamsharing," Cain said and Desmond felt the lift starting to slow. "The AI, as living, could all probably dreamshare, meaning they had the ability in death. It isn't something that can be learned like regular sikaz skills, you are either born with it, or you're not," the lift glided to a stop and Cain stepped out.
"What's sikaz?" Desmond asked, it sounded vaguely proeathan but not Ilythian.
"A proeathan word, it describes, in general, the abilities of the sixth sense. Telekinesis, Seeing, intuition, mind reading-
"Woah wait you can read minds," Desmond interrupted, walking beside Cain.
"Its even rarer than Seeing, and like it you must be born with it. I've only heard of a handful of proeathans who could do it, and it was always imperfect. The mind is not linear, there is no such thing as linear mind reading like in books where you hear someone's thoughts. Its a nearly useless skill because everyone's mind works differently."
"Can you read minds? Also how do you know that?"
"I can't. But I knew someone who did."
Desmond paused and they stopped walking, "You know I really wanna ask about that but I know you won't answer."
Cain just grinned, "You're right," he said. "And here we are."
Desmond looked up a bit, "This is Venus," he said. Venus had been pretty heavily guarded by the Adjatevs when Desmond had shown up, but the Ilythians had taken care of the forces there. They'd managed to get in, open the vault and loot the storehouse of thousands of useful artifacts and leave before the Adjatevs had sent backup. Everything had been transferred to one of the Ilythians large numia and like Artemis had copied herself into the numia so effectively the numia was Venus. Along with goodies from Artemis it'd been sitting down in the hanger since the Ilythians had arrived.
"Yes. Open her up."
"Venus," Desmond called.
The hologram appeared in the shape of Altair, only he looked different. Younger, somehow, even though he still only looked in his late twenties, but he didn't have the lines on his forehead or mouth like he did now. "Hello," she said with Altair's voice.
"Open the numia, we need to get in."
"Of course," she said and the door opened above and a gangway came down. "What do you need?" she asked as they walked up the gangway.
"I don't know, ask him," Desmond said, jerking his thumb back to indicate Cain.
"I don't know what you call it. I'll know it when I see it," was all Cain said when they got up into the numia. "Though an… oh gods what do you call it in this time?" he asked himself softly. "Apple! Right, Apple, one of those would be nice."
Desmond eyed Cain warily at that even as Venus said, "Of course." A light appeared over one of the racks deep inside Venus' hold, "I've marked their placement for your connivence."
"Man," Cain said slowly, "Too bad Abel is this helpful, eh Desmond?" Cain asked Desmond and it took Desmond a solid minute to reason Cain had just made a joke. Not that it was a bad joke. He just couldn't even think about Cain ever joking about anything. He was always Mr. Cool and Serious and Desmond had abruptly come to terms with the fact that Cain was old as hell, had probably had kids, and told horrible dad jokes at some point in his life. And that meant Altair and Ezio probably had too. Desmond suddenly didn't know what was real anymore. "You coming?" Cain called from in between Venus' aisles.
"Yeah," Desmond called back weakly before following after Cain. He was silent for a few minutes as Cain looked for whatever he was looking for, before he couldn't take it anymore. "Hey, Cain," he said.
"Hmm?"
"You ever have kids? I mean I know you said you were asexual but-
"But?" Cain asked and damn guy was amused by his stumbling. Asshole.
"Were you always?"
Cain chuckled a little, "I believe the saying is; once upon a time," he didn't seem sad though like when the others talked about their wives or kids or their lives before this century. "I was a father to many children," he admitted, "maybe not as many as some people I knew, but for your time it was many."
"Like how many?"
Cain didn't answer right away. "More than twelve, less than twenty. I don't remember them all."
Desmond stared at him, "Seriously? You don't remember?"
Cain looked at him, "I am unimaginably old," he said, "old enough that humans have a hard time understanding that distance of time. I remember a lot, but I can't remember everything."
"Seems like it," Desmond grumbled as Cain went back to looking, and he followed behind grudgingly, nearly dragging his feet.
"I remember things that are important. My children, not so much. They're all dead now, and my descendants probably are too. I have no time for the dead."
"Harsh."
"You'd think so. But the past is over. The future will come as it does, the only thing that matters is the present, and at best, your plan for the next three days."
"Where'd you get that sort of logic?"
"Being locked in a box for over a hundred years," and that shut Desmond right up. They walked a bit more then Cain stopped, "Ah, here it is," and he opened a drawer and pulled out a canister.
"What is that?" Desmond asked.
"You'll see," was all Cain said and then went to towards the marker Venus had placed where there was a large trunk that he popped open and there were a few dozen Apples sitting in something similar to an egg carton, on top of each other in neat order. "Well," Cain said, "that's quite a lot of them."
"We took all of them," Desmond said, "they're too dangerous to normal people."
"They can be," and Cain picked one up, tossed it at Desmond thoughtlessly, took another one and that also got thrown to Desmond who nearly fumbled it. He took a third one for himself.
"So what are we going to do with these?" Desmond asked.
"Can you scry?" Cain answered his question with a question and headed for the exit.
"Uh, I did once with Altair's help," he said.
"It'll be like that," was Cain's answer and they left Venus.
"You haven't told me anything," Desmond said irritably.
"Knowing is a burden," Cain said.
"What bullshit is that," Desmond snapped.
Cain looked at him, "You just say that because you know nothing," and Desmond was taken aback. They entered the lift and Cain keyed in their next destination. "Altair knows. He's old enough to understand and know actual secrets and mysteries in the world. Knowing can be a burden. Clay knows some, but he doesn't know enough, he knows pieces, bits and half truths and some lies but he doesn't know. It made him hate you if I'm not mistaken," he said to Desmond.
"I straightened it out, he doesn't hate me."
"He didn't know why he hated you though. Because you raised Atlantis, big deal," he couldn't see Cain roll his eyes but he could hear it.
"I'd say it is."
"But he doesn't know why he cares so much," Cain said, "What did excuse did he give for his hatred?"
"That I was the antichrist."
Cain seemed amused. "Death maybe, but the stadalla is nothing but."
"Hey that isn't-
"I know," Cain said, "the middle. But for there to be a middle there must be a beginning, a middle, and an end, and to start something new you need an end." He looked over at Desmond, "You are an end," he said, "maybe that's why you annoy me so much."
"Me, annoy you? Do you not know how fucking frustrating you are?"
"I chose to be," Cain said.
"You fucker," Desmond grumbled. Cain knew exactly what he was doing and that was the most infuriating thing ever. "Why?"
"Because I want to."
"No wonder Altair hates you."
"Which is odd since he picked up this particular habit from me," the lift stopped, they got off.
"Where are we going?" Cain didn't answer. "Cain."
"Here," and the door irised open. Like most of the rooms in Demeter it was a green house with lush foliage. This one was a greenhouse of grass, which was weird. Samples of grass was arranged in clumps all and it was so weird to think Demeter kept grass to protect. "I like this garden," Cain said and sat on a piece of the turf. He put the Apple in front of him and Desmond sat across from him. "Put them on either side of your knees," Cain directed him and Desmond crossed his legs and did so.
"You going to tell me what this has to do with dreamsharing?" Desmond asked.
"You don't know how to dreamshare on your own, someone forces you into it. From the sound of it usually an AI interfaces with you, triggering your natural ability. Because AI aren't actual conciouses, they exist in a near constant state of half sleeping, half waking, able to access the parts of their brains they could only have done, while alive, when awake or asleep. Thus they can dreamshare at any time."
"Can I do that?"
"No," Cain said, "dreamsharing is only achievable when your conscious mind is at rest. Don't ask me why, I don't know. Sikaz is odd like that, sometimes you can't explain why they work the way they do, only that they do."
"Like math," Desmond said.
"Exactly," Cain said. He took the capsule, which was about as big as a thermos, and unscrewed it it, popping it in half. "Do you know what an Apple is?"
"Uh—?"
Cain sighed a little, "You literally know nothing," he said. "Before the fall of the proeathans there were people like you," he was looking Desmond dead in the eye, completely serious, "or maybe, more like people like Lucy. The proeathans called them angels, well, that would be the translation, every language had a different name, but you get the idea. They were gifted in ways like the proeathans, but different. The proeathans owned them, and trained their slaves in the ways they'd been trained, crippling whatever natural gift they had into something the proeathans understood. They were runaway hunters, or were brought around when there was an uprising, they'd infiltrate the uprising, because they were human, and kill the leaders. It was amazingly successful for centuries before the humans caught on.
"When the human was near death, old age, too hurt or weak to continue to live, the proeathans would do to them what they did to the AI," Cain picked up the Apple in front of him and Desmond stared at him. "An Apple is alive. It has wants, and desires and most are very, very, angry and demand destruction, which is why those without the right sort of blood usually go mad. All smart proeathan tools contain one of these ancient people, slaves even after death. Most are wretched and will fight every chance they can, make your life difficult, drive you insane, make you blood thirsty or delusional, show you illusions of what you most desire. There are reasons you modern humans call them Pieces of Eden; they are temptation given form. They show you what you want, but like Eve's apple, they will only lead to ruin.
"The entity within these vessels were incredibly powerful psychics as far as humans went," Cain continued, "and every single one of them was a dreamwalker. I heard stories once of entire barracks of angels sleeping for days at a time, dreamsharing, sometimes with angels across continents."
"What about?" Desmond heard himself ask.
Cain smiled a little, "The proeathans always asked. It wasn't until the end that the angels answered. They dreamed of a world were there were no more proeathans. It made them scared. Dozens of angels were culled, forced into vessels, but hundreds escaped. Eve was the one who formed them together again, and they started to use the skills they'd been given to attack the proeathans."
"Okay maybe stupid question; but what about Adam?"
"The way I heard it Adam was captured during a fight, the proeathans sent him back to Eve in a vessel." Desmond paled a little. "She then used that vessel to end the war-
"Not start it?"
"The war had existed in small scale for centuries. Unhappy humans rising up, causing noise. The proeathans sent their pets, it was stopped, probably most of those humans were killed. But what Eve did was different. She crippled the proeathans."
"How?"
"I don't know," Cain said. "I only know the stories."
"You mean you weren't there?" Desmond asked sarcastically.
Cain smirked, "I'm not that old."
"You'd like us to think you are."
"I'm not that old," he said again. "You asked what this has to do with dreamsharing," Cain put the Apple down again. "This is how you learn," and he picked up the canister and upended it into his palm. A clear, glass-like, sphere plopped onto his palm. He placed that between them and then he put his hand on the Apple again, the Apple began to glow.
"I have a question," Desmond said.
"Yes?"
"If these things hate the proeathans, why do they react to them?"
"They don't," Cain said, "Proeathans don't use Apples. They were tools of angels."
"But they react to my proeathan blood."
"No," Cain said, "They react to your abilities. The vessels know themselves, and know when one who uses them is like them. A proeathan can force a vessel to obey, but usually they rebel. They were never meant for proeathans."
"But I'm not an angel," Desmond said.
"No," Cain said, "you're not. But you're close enough. You're a mix, human, and proeathan, and while most modern humans don't birth people like angels anymore, the mix between the two species is enough to mimic an angel. People with too much proeathan blood can't use Pieces of Eden; but humans can. Now, are you ready to dreamwalk?"
"I mean… I guess?"
"Do you hear the singing?" Cain asked, the Apple glowed brighter and brighter till it hurt to look at. And when Desmond paid attention he noticed, yes, he did, a jumble of notes he'd been ignoring till now, but now sounded so clear.
"Yes," Desmond said.
"Focus on the singing," Cain said, "and don't throw up."
"Don't what?" and then the snap of nausea overwhelmed him like when Altair had taught him to scry years ago. Desmond jumped to his feet, walked off, doubled over, and vomited. The song stopped and Desmond felt sick and gross and dizzy.
"I said don't throw up." Desmond just raised his hand towards Cain with the middle finger up. "I assume that's some sort of disrespectful sign language?"
"Fuck you," Desmond said and spit out the remaining bile in the back of his throat.
"I thought we agreed you'd come up with better insults than ones involving your penis," Cain said.
"Fuck. Off," Desmond growled. He glanced at Cain long enough to see him roll his eyes. "Euhg," he spit again.
"Would you like some water?" Demeter suddenly asked.
"Yes, please Demeter that would be fantastic," Desmond said and in the track that separated two patches of, apparently, different grass a little stand rose up with a round bottle on it. Desmond went over to it, opened it and sipped, rinsed his mouth, spit, and then drank.
"Stop being so dramatic," Cain said.
"Fuck you- Hey!" he cried when Cain lobbed the canister at him and hit him in the chest. "What the hell, Cain?" he demanded.
"Every time you say that I'm going to throw something at you," Cain said. "Be better," he said seriously. "You're the savior of the world, act like it."
"Fuck off, man- Stop that!" he yelled when Cain threw the other half of the canister and this time hit Desmond in the chin.
"Be better," Cain said, looking at Desmond with intense eyes. "Now get back over here," he ordered and Desmond went, grumbling as he did so, and sat positioning the Apples next to his knees again. "This time don't throw up."
"Nothing left to throw up."
"Good," and then the Apple started to glow again. The singing came, faster this time, and Desmond felt the wave of nausea. Like with the scrying though Desmond pushed through, didn't vomit. And then he was in the white room with Cain; only they weren't alone.