Chapter Seventy-Three: Gaining Momentum

Being around other sprites made me feel a little uncomfortable.

I mean, I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that I'm a sprite, now. It happened, I'm dealing with it. It was a something of a surprise, at first, you could say, but I've adapted. Cass has been helping me out with that, a lot. So it's not like being with other sprites was giving me PTSD prototyping flashbacks, or anything like that.

It was just unsettling.

Suddenly, I'm no longer the only freak in the room.

Five fellow freaks occupied the room with me. A green mouse sprite, a blue Bioshock big daddy sprite, an orange Santa Claus sprite, and what appeared to be a prototyped large cheese pizza. And I recognized the fifth sprite as Mr. Twymann - Gwen's grandpa. Between the six of us, we had a whole lot of crazy gathered in one place, almost lending a strange sort of humming energy to the air.

"Really, you shouldn't have called all of them," Cass said to me as I lead her into the downstairs parlor of our temporary home in Tyrene. "What could they possibly do to help me?"

"Don't underestimate a sprite," I replied. "And definitely don't underestimate six of us."

The other sprites turned to greet me.

"So you're the one who went psycho?" the pizza sprite asked me, his golden aura pulsing in tune with his words.

"The talking pizza is going to lecture me on psychosis?" I retorted. "You don't even have any pepperoni."

"Ho ho ho!" Santasprite exclaimed, his booming jolly voice filling every crack and crevice within the room.

Was the festive orange spirit guide capable of saying anything else? I'm already beginning to doubt it.

Before Pizzasprite got flustered, I decided to steer the conversation towards the reason I'd called everyone here in the first place.

"Okay, thank you all for coming," I said. "I'll do everyone a favor and get right to the point. We need to intervene."

Silence settled over the room. Perhaps I worded myself a little too ambiguously?

"Intervene?" Theo's Subject Delta sprite asked, his forehead furrowing in a slight frown. "Intervene how, if I may ask? And where?"

Cass quietly slipped over to the table and took a seat at one of the chairs. I watched her move, but kept my attention focused on the other sprites.

"Something needs to be done about the Black Queen," I declared. But then I gave a frown of my own - still too ambiguous. "And by that, I mean we need to kill her. Preferably sooner rather than later. Who's in?"

Maybe Pizzasprite was right. Maybe I had gone completely psycho. It certainly sounds like it, from what the other sprites were saying. There was a lot of, "You're insane. Completely psycho," from Pizzasprite, coupled with some, "I believe that goes against the Rules," from Deltasprite, along with a healthy helping of, "Ho ho ho!" from dear, wise, eloquent Santasprite.

The mouse sprite and Gwen's grandpa said nothing. I decided I liked them best.

All the while, Cass continued to watch me from the corner of the room. She kept quiet, her expression perfectly neutral. I did my best to keep myself focused, which was difficult when she was in the same room and freaking watching me. Shit. Keep it together.

"Yeah, okay." I held up my hands, quieting everyone down. I'm glad the other sprites cooperated, otherwise it likely would have required a fireball to shut everyone up. And that might've burned down the house. "I get it. Sprites aren't supposed to interfere with the Heroes' Quests. We're just supposed to offer vague advice, act super cagey with valuable information, and float around. According to the Rules. Right, Deltasprite?" I cast an accusing glance over to Theo's sprite.

"Well…" Deltasprite blinked a couple times, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Well, it sounds a little negative when you word it like that, but the Rules are very clear about interference-"

"Fuck the Rules," I said, startling Deltasprite back into silence. "No one else is following them, so why should we?"

Another silence. Then the little mouse sprite spoke up for the first time, prompting even Pizzasprite to turn and look at him. "Can...can we do that? Ignore the Rules? Wouldn't bad things happen?"

"Bad things are already happening, little guy," I replied. "The reason I called you all here is because Derse has already converted the Rules to low-grade asswipe, shitting all over them as they please. They've openly attacked the Derse dreamers. They've imprisoned and tortured Cass, over there." The sprites all glanced over to Cass, who offered them a little wave, red rushing into her cheeks. She did not like being in the spotlight. "The Black Queen has tried to assassinate us several times, already. In Cruz, Gino, and Theo's case, she succeeded!"

"He is right," the mouse sprite agreed. "The Gino-human got stabbed in the head. There was a lot of blood. We had to put him under the sand before he started smelling bad. Tami almost died, too. I don't want that to happen again."

"No one's denying that Derse is going a little stir-crazy, alright?" Pizzasprite said. "One of their Agents went ahead and ganked Caiazzo Senior. I had to clean up the mess. But-"

"Wait, wait...Gino's dad is dead?" My eyes widened a fraction as I considered the consequences. "Does Gino know? What about the others? Have you seen my Sis-"

"Like I said," Pizzasprite interrupted, his aura flaring a bright yellow, "No one's denying that Derse is going a little stir-crazy. But, see, thing is, I'm understating it because, for some reason, I think understatement has a better ring to it. The reality is that Derse has gone completely, absolutely, irrevocably stir-crazy. And you want to fly right into the eye of that hurricane? You're completely, absolutely, irrevocably nuts. I want to talk to your eagle half."

My mouth gave a little twitch. I was getting tired of listening to this guy.

"Well, here's an understatement of my own: I'm not sure you and the Eagle would get along," I told him. "The Eagle is always hungry, and you look positively delectable."

Mr. Twymann held up his hand. "Not to interrupt," the indigo sprite began, fully aware that he was interrupting, which earned a scoff from Pizzasprite, "but I believe our aquiline friend here is right. Derse has gone too far. They've killed enough children to warrant our intervention. Something must be done."

"That still doesn't change the fact that it's Derse," Pizzasprite argued. "Which includes a huge Navy. Lots and lots of battle-hardened commandos. Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention, the Queen Sociopath who happens to have a ring in her possession which gives her enough power to destroy entire fucking planets! Look, I know sprites pack one hell of a punch, 'specially when we're gathered in numbers, but no fucking way are we going up against that sort of firepower and coming out the other end breathing."

My irritation gradually dissipated. Those were well-phrased, valid grievances, and I initially found myself at a loss for words. I took a deep breath, allowing myself to settle down, my head to clear.

"Okay." I took another breath. "I'm not suggesting we fly to Derse right this instant and crash the Black Queen's throne room. No. You're right. That would be a disaster. But there's already resistance in place - dissenters, operating from the Obsidian Moon, have been opposing the Black Queen for millennia. Essentially, what we have happening on Derse right now is a civil war that's only just getting started. That gives us options, in terms of luring the Black Queen out into the open."

I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth. Tactics? Strategy? Organized planning? I didn't know I had it in me. What else am I capable of?

"What did you have in mind?" Cass surprised me by breaking her silence. Her face was still stoic, her eyes neutral, observing.

"Like I said, it's a civil war. But it's underground. So why don't we bring it into the daylight?" I suggested. "Why don't we convince the Obsidian Moon to secede?"

Tami Abramov's eyes were closed while she played the omnicrystal violin. She was plucking the strings, weaving a light, airy tune. Although it was played in a faster rhythm, it did not convey a sense of happiness.

"There is sadness in your notes, Muse," Jurgen von Kessler observed. The salamander-consort was sitting cross-legged on a rock in the middle of the dry riverbed, tuning the strings on Tami's old violin. "Even when you play lively music, there is sadness."

Tami could only shrug. "What can I say? I'm sad most of the time, these days. Can't help it if my music reflects that."

"Oh, but you can help it!" Jurgen grinned, raising the violin to his chin, lowering the bow to the strings and etching out a quick scale. "Emotions are always changing, always moving. Flowing, if you will, like water through a sieve. Or, at least, they should be. When you don't allow emotions to move, they will fester. They will grow negative and impose themselves on the circumstances of today. Which includes your music. When the sieve is blocked, new water cannot wash away the old, stagnant water. And so, you are left with nothing healthy to drink. Come, I want you to try something with me."

"What?" Tami sounded wary as she put her omnicrystal violin down.

"Take a deep breath, like so." Jurgen inhaled deeply through his nostrils, releasing it through the mouth. He took care not to produce a saliva bubble in the process. When Tami performed the breath herself, Jurgen broke out into a wide smile and began to laugh.

The laughter of a Salamander was rather high-pitched and gurgly. Strange. Somewhat amusing.

Tami blinked several times rapidly. "What are you doing?" she asked, her forehead creasing in a frown. This was unexpected. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing is funny," Jurgen explained in between chuckles. "I am merely faking laughter. Try it."

"Why?"

"Because eventually it turns into real laughter. Try."

Tami was not quite convinced. Still, she could not help but smile as her amphibious companion's laughter intensified. And so, throwing embarrassment to the winds, Tami opened her mouth and compressed her abdomen, allowing laughter of her own to come through.

It sounded forced. Awkward and mechanical. Running through the motions, minus the spirit. She was tempted to stop, but Jurgen continued to laugh, so Tami kept on going. Gradually, her face started to scrunch and her eyes began to tear. Her abdomen ached a wonderful ache.

When Tami released the tension and stopped faking the laughter, she found, much to her surprise, that the laughter had not stopped. Possessing a life all its own, the laughter continued until the tears streamed. The wonderful ache originating in the abdomen spread to the chest, neck, and arms.

When allowed to rest, her muscles would continue to hum, still carrying the laughter in their memory.

"Enjoy that?" asked von Kessler. The musician took a deep breath after speaking, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Yeah." Tami gave a single nod, not inclined to give a wordy answer. She could not honestly remember the last time she had laughed. Not as a nervous tick, nor out of despair.Real laughter. It had been a long time.

Jurgen von Kessler picked up his violin and performed a quick arpeggio. "Play with me, then. While your muscles still hum. Lightly, now, like a gentle breeze..."

Together, Tami and her consort played the violin. The old violin Jurgen used, which had once belonged to Tami's brother Tash, struck a fine resonance with the purer, clearer, sharper tones that were offered up by the omnicrystal instrument.

Tami mimicked the melody Jurgen was weaving, taking some time to assimilate the consort's tempo, rhythm, and key signature. After internalizing that information, Tami left the rest up to her arm and fingers, closing her eyes and allowing her side of the music to complement Jurgen's, producing a rousing harmony, filling gaps that had never been gaps.

It was often difficult for Tami, as a musician, to really have a concrete idea of what her music sounds like as a whole when she is completely in the moment and improvising, as she was doing now. It is not a linear feeling, moving from one note to the next. The notes no longer feel like notes - they become akin more to the idea of emotions, than anything else. Tami would feel something, and the emotion or mix of emotions would be translated into music. This would be accomplished through her intimate understanding of the musical geometry of knowing which chords produced which emotions.

This is a very simplified way of describing a very complex process, but it is accurate.

"Feel the difference?" Jurgen inquired. "When emotions move freely, the music itself is then freed."

"You're just choc-full of fortune cookie messages, today, aren't you?" Tami remarked, her eyes remaining closed while she played.

Jurgen's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry, what is a fortune cookie?"

"It's this little cookie-thingamabob you get at Chinese restaurants," Tami explained, keeping her focus concentrated on her violin.

The Salamander musician's eyes narrowed even more. "What is a Chinese restaurant?"

"Shit, that's right, you have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about. Jesus, I really can't make pop culture references, anymore..."

"What is a pop-"

"Never mind!" Tami snapped, her eyebrows twitching in a brief frown as her bow slipped, producing a discord.

Jurgen gave a quiet chuckle, lowering his violin. "A stranger in a strange land, you are," he said. "A feeling I know very well... Come, let us break for lunch. How much food have we left?"

Tami ran a quick mental check through her sylladex.

"We're still in good shape," she replied. "I went on a lunchable hoarding binge a few years ago. Great thing about these sylladexes is that nothing in them ever ages. You can store food from the Roman era in a sylladex, and it'll still be good and fresh when you take it back out. And don't you dare ask me what Romans are."

Jurgen pantomimed locking his mouth and tossing away the key, accentuating the key-toss with a glubtastic spit bubble. He accepted a pizza lunchable from Tami, tore off the plastic top, started to eat.

Tami let out a quiet moan of relief when she bit into her first makeshift mini-pizza. Her hunger pangs had been growing for the past hour, or so, but she had not noticed until she stopped playing. "If we ever stumble across a fire," she mumbled through her full mouth, "you gotta try heating these things. They're awesome with melted cheese."

"Had you only arrived here ten thousand years sooner, you might have had the opportunity to taste the cuisine of my people," von Kessler hummed, enjoying another bite of his mini-pizza. "Before the Cataclysm befell us, I was the conductor of the Albrecht Philharmonic Orchestra - 'Albrecht' was the name of my home province, you understand. And after every performance, my dear Inge, she would prepare my favorite dish. Steamed grollusch, with lavender sauce."

Tami's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Grollusch?"

"Yes, one of our more exotic species of shellfish," Jurgen explained. "Difficult to come by in Albrecht, but Inge would always manage…" The Salamander's voice trailed off and his eyes grew vacant for a few moments.

"Don't worry, you'll see your wife again," Tami assured her consort. "And, while we're sort of on the subject of bringing your people back into existence...you ever gonna explain to me how exactly we're going to make that happen?"

"You must learn to play the Songs of other people, first," Jurgen replied. "When you do, we will travel to the core of the planet with Hemera, and we will call my people back through Resonance, utilizing the energetic acoustics of the omnicrystal."

"Must've sucked," Tami grunted, her voice muffled slightly by the food in her mouth. "Having to be the one to play that Symphony? Having to say goodbye to everyone?"

"I was chosen by Hemera herself to play the Symphony," Jurgen shared with Tami, finishing his mini-pizza with a smack of the lips. "The greatest musicians from all provinces gathered at the Denizen's palace, and we played our Songs to her. My music, and mine alone, drew tears from the Denizen's soul. And so the honor of playing the Symphony was bestowed on me. I was humbled to do it."

"Cut the shit, von Kessler. It sucked. Don't tell me it didn't suck."

Jurgen started squirting the tomato sauce onto his second mini-pizza. His eyes were distant and unfocused as he revisited old memories. "It was very stressful," he admitted, sprinkling the cheese onto the tomato sauce. "There was fire raining from the sky the night I performed. I had to play the Symphony all by myself, using the omnicrystal to direct and amplify the sound when needed, created the necessary Resonance… And when the Outer Gods reduced my home to the barren desert you see now, my people were safely removed to realms of consciousness intangible."

Tami was silent for a few moments, digesting what Jurgen's words alongside her first lunchable pizza. "Sounds simple enough," she finally grunted, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

"That's because it is simple," Jurgen replied. "Learning how to do it, however, is less simple. Playing the Song of a soul is not about finding a perfect composition, you understand, but rather about allowing the inspiration you draw from that soul to guide your choices, completely surrendering to it. If you play the truth, then the Song will be true, no matter what it sounds like. So, then, how to train the muscles of your body not to impose themselves? What might you recommend, Muse?"

Tami brushed the crumbs from her fingers, picked up her violin once more. "Practice?" she queries.

Jurgen gives a single nod, picking up his own violin. "Practice. Starting with more arpeggios."

I lay on my back in the fine white sand of the beach outside Tyrene, my head resting in Cass's lap.

Waves crashed into foam and spray against the wet sand. A gentle land breeze puffed from behind us. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but that was okay - thunder is commonplace on this planet. Weak sunlight poked through holes in the veil of clouds. The beach smelled of salt.

Cass ran her fingers through my hair, tracing gentle curves across my scalp. I quivered at the resultant goosebumps.

"You've changed a lot, you know," she told me, letting her index finger stop and rest on the middle of my forehead. "I've never seen you take charge of a room, before."

"Take charge?" I opened my eyes, making a face at Cass. "I just sort of winged a plan and explained it to them. I wasn't exactly leading an army."

"When you speak, the room goes quiet and listens."

"I guess…"

Cass trailed her finger down to the tip of my nose. "You're going to kill the Black Queen?"

"That's the plan, yeah."

"Not trying to be romantic, are you?" Cass asked me, her eyes glinting with amusement.

I smiled at her. "The plan is to bust down the door of your dream self's cell with a big, badass fireball. I'll be holding the Queen's head, and I'll say something moderately witty. Then we fly off into the sunset."

"While still holding the Queen's head?"

"Well...no, I suppose I'd set it down somewhere beforehand. That would get awkward to carry..."

"You're not going to be holding the Queen's head, Adam. All that blood? You'll throw up. And have you forgotten that there is no sunset on Derse?"

"Oh, c'mon, just let me have this one."

Cass's finger moved from my nose down to my mouth. She leaned in close and kissed my forehead. More goosebumps rippled across my body. The fingertip fell from my mouth, meandered down my neck, exploring my chest feathers. It was a strange sensation, having my feathers ruffled, though not unpleasant. I allowed it to continue.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know," I tell her. "I never knew they were violet."

Cass's cheeks turned a pale shade of pink. "I wore contacts every day. Violet eyes aren't exactly normal."

"Better than having red eyes," I pointed out. "Makes a person look demonic. Great for Halloween, though."

Cass laughs at this. With her free hand, she interlaced fingers with me. As she leaned in for another kiss - a real one, this time - I fidgeted for a moment, an unpleasant thought coming to mind.

"What are you gonna tell Adam?" I asked Cass. "You know...the real Adam. Not the knockoff sprite version. What are you gonna tell him?"

"I don't know," Cass admitted. "Something. Don't worry about it." Her lips brushed against mine. She whispered to me, "You're no knockoff."

I closed my eyes.