"There's always room in the mind for hope. It's the crack that lets the Light in." -Paradox Mission
As promised, everything about the Servitor was there, unrestricted, on Variks' datapad. Finally having something worthwhile to read, Meren lost herself to scrolling as she pored over each file, taking fastidious notes on every last detail. Only when her resources were expended, and Meren was confident she knew more about Servitors than any other human alive, did she allow her mind to finally rest. It had taken the better part of the evening to get through everything, but it had been time well spent.
Meaning to retire for the night, Meren returned to the device's main interface to shut it down. But as her palm hovered over the display, a dozen new access points populated across the screen. She furrowed her brow slightly, studying the alien text that accompanied each file. The translations were terribly enticing, boasting a wealth of technical data on Eliksni machines, weaponry, and starcraft, but none of it was meant for her.
Meren sighed. The biometrically-restricted device would reject her attempts to access any of it, of course. This was merely Variks' way of teasing her from afar. Hilarious, she thought sarcastically, but maybe. Nothing if not determined, Meren tapped at the screen anyway, selecting an access point that read Kaliks-fel.
/Redirect: Biometric signature recognized/
Meren stared, dumbstruck, as the notification disappeared and he entire screen was filled with a detailed rendering of the House of Wolves' former starship. She surveyed the Ketch's data for only a moment before returning to the datapad's main interface and trying another access point. It granted her access, the same as the first, and technical specifications of Orbiks-fel ticked across the display.
Every other file opened instantly at her touch. She flew through them, opening each, giving only a cursory glance at the data before she was on to the next. There were schematics of Ketches and Skiffs, Walkers and Pikes. Scorch cannons and shock blades and wire rifles. There were words she didn't understand, pieces of tech she had never seen. Long-hidden Eliksni secrets that weren't meant for human eyes. Was this an accident? No, she mused, Variks would never make a mistake like that. He had intentionally given her everything.
Meren let the datapad fall from her hands into her lap, heart swelling with a mix of bemusement and gratitude. It would take days to get through all of the additional data, but that wouldn't be a problem. With no more impending crises weighing her down, she had nothing but time. She could sit in her room and read, uninterrupted, for a long as she liked.
Meren had practically mastered the art of hermitry over the past month, and the thought reading alone for endless hours didn't bother her in the slightest. But that would have been self-serving on her part. How was Variks going to feel if, after all he had done for her, she holed herself up in her room and never came to visit again? What kind of friend did that?
Besides, if she let herself really think about it, she was more interested in spending time with the scribe than sitting here alone, even with all the secrets of alien tech at her fingertips. Meren had never met an Eliksni quite like Variks, and she hadn't been lying when she had said she enjoyed his company.
As alien as he was, Variks managed to have a charm about him, she had to admit. He could be courteous and mindful and patient - all traits she had rarely encountered in previous dealings with his kind. He could be funny, when he wanted to be, in that morbid, Eliksni way. Even his moments of irritability and stubbornness were somehow endearing.
At that, Meren powered down the datapad, her mind made up. She would see Variks tomorrow, and the day after that, for a long as he would have her. The Vanguard had promised her plenty of time out in the Reef, and her evenings alone would be more than sufficient to get through every last bit of data the scribe had gifted her. With a smile on her face, Meren finally found sleep, cradling the datapad in her hands.
As planned, Meren divided the time, spending her days ambling around the Prison with Variks, and her evenings perusing the wealth of knowledge at her fingertips. Each time she returned to the Prison, the scribe seemed happy to see her, seemingly shirking his personal responsibilities to spend the entirety of the day in her company. What he did while she was away was anyone's guess, but Meren privately suspected he was losing out on sleep while making up for the day's offcast duties.
Each visit was different - it was always a surprise with Variks. One day he was showing her some obscure, forgotten corner of the complex, telling her a pithy tale of some long-gone Baron. It was a fascinating account filled with betrayal and murder and lust. Meren listened with great interest until every last character in Variks' narrative was dead. The conclusion left much to be desired. But when did any one of Variks' stories have a happy ending?
The next day they were exploring a derelict laboratory filled with jars of Vex radiolaria and vials of preserved Hive eyeballs. While the collection of alien entrails was undeniably impressive, it turned Meren's stomach, and she politely requested that they move on to something more pleasant. Variks obliged, but not before enlightening Meren on exactly how he had managed to harvest twenty-seven Hive eyeballs in the first place. They stuck to talking of Eliksni after that, and Meren was all too happy to let the scribe prattle on about Splicers for the rest of the afternoon.
On the third day, Meren packed a few things in her bag before heading off to the Prison. She found Variks down in the dimly-lit security hub, working by the light of a dozen monitors. Quick to conclude whatever he had been doing, Variks killed the displays before offering her a seat at a low table on the other side of the room.
"You are early," he purred. "Do you not sleep?"
"I tried." Meren took a seat across from the scribe. "But it was a little hard when all I could dream about were eyeballs."
Variks chuckled and set his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. "Then I will ensure today is less unpleasant. Perhaps you would care to hear more of Eliksni, yes?"
"You already know the answer to that."
"You are insatiable," he teased. "Thought what I gave you would satisfy your curiosity."
"It's a start." She grinned, though she doubted her thirst for knowledge would ever truly be sated.
Variks gazed over his claws at her for a long moment. "How much have you read?"
"Hard to tell. Maybe a fifth of everything? You gave me a lot, Variks."
The scribe hummed in response. "There will be more when you finish what you have."
"You're not serious…"
"I am," he purred.
Meren stared, lost for words at the scribe's generosity. She had done so little for him, and yet he had given her so much. Surely he deserved something in return. And now was as good a time as any.
Digging in her satchel for a moment, Meren pulled forth a hand-bound copy of The Fallen. She set the book down on the tabletop before pushing it across the surface to Variks.
He tilted his head. "What is this? Your next offering for Spider?"
"No. It's for you." She smiled. "I know you enjoy reading too, and I just wanted to give you something to express my gratitude for all you've done for me."
Variks blinked at her. "That is not necessary, Meren. Everything I have offered you, I have done so freely. I expect nothing in return."
"I know," she said, "but I want you to have it. Think of it as a gift between friends."
Variks inclined his head politely before looking down at the book. Studying it, he ran his hand over the leather cover. "You made this?"
"I suppose you could say that. I wrote it, and bound it myself."
"You are very talented with your hands," He dragged a finger over the intricate stitching before opening the text. "...and your mind."
Meren beamed as Variks peered momentarily at the cover page.
Something in the scribe's eyes changed as he looked up from the book. "But...you chose such an unflattering title."
Meren winced. "I didn't exactly have a say in it. The editors-"
Variks gave her a look of dark amusement. "Did not see things your way?"
"They insisted that no one in the City would want to read a book with Eliksni in the title. So I ended up with this." She gestured lamely to the open page.
"Cannot say I am surprised."
"I meant no offense, Variks," she offered, apologetic.
"And none has been taken," he reassured. "You had good intentions. Your City and their hatred of the Eliksni are to blame. Though I suppose their distaste is not entirely...unwarranted."
Meren understood all too well. "Twilight Gap left a bad taste in everyone's mouth."
"My people share in that sentiment," Variks growled curtly.
They were toeing a dangerous line, bringing up the Eliksni's Final Attempt on the City. After failing to reclaim the Great Machine, the old Houses had been sundered, their decrepit remnants scattering to the farthest corners of the solar system. Though it had happened over a century ago, old wounds from the siege had never managed to heal for either side. Variks had lived through it, had seen the aftermath, and Meren wasn't keen on dredging up any old resentment he might yet be harboring towards humanity. Sparking an argument like that was pointless. Besides, they were supposed to be talking about pleasant things today.
Meren put her hands out, palms up in supplication. "Then we agree on that much. Let's leave it at that. Nothing good will come of us speaking further on this."
Variks nodded slowly, fingers clawing at the surface of the table for a moment. He said no more on the issue as he turned to the next page in The Fallen. Rifling through the first few pages, the scribe paused and looked up at her.
"So many words." The irritated look in his eyes was gone, replaced by one of curiosity. "You are so fascinated by us. And you have never told me why."
"You never asked…" She was honestly surprised he hadn't sooner.
"I am now."
"It's a long story. But it's all right there in the foreword, if you're curious." She reached out to turn back the pages.
Variks' hand fell on hers midway, stopping her. "I want to hear it from you. "
Meren slowly withdrew her hand before she leaned back in her chair, considering. The long, sterile answer was written out in four pages at the beginning of the book. It spoke of years of study, dedication, and Meren's slow realization that maybe the Eliksni weren't as bad as history had made them out to be. While not untrue, the carefully crafted biography had been designed for the City's readers, meant to emphasize Meren's own humanity and garner only the smallest shred of sympathy for the Eliksni.
But Variks deserved the full truth - the one that would have made her seem like a fanatic, an Eliksni sympathizer. The one the editors would have none of.
Meren hesitated only a moment before meeting his glowing gaze. "It all started with a lullaby…"
Variks' eyes narrowed slightly, incredulous.
"Before I was a professor at the Academy, I was a student, naturally. That's just how it works. In my final year, we were required to do a long research project before graduation - a thesis. Professor Harpeth taught alien anthropology at the time and assigned our topics. Maybe he didn't like me, maybe I was just unlucky, but I ended up with Eliksni…"
She hadn't exactly been thrilled at the time, but she had to graduate, so Eliksni it was. Back then, there hadn't been hardly anyone who understood the language, and the Academy had so few translated resources. But they had archives, hundreds of hours of audio recordings with Eliksni growls and snarls and chattering. She hadn't known where it all had come from at the time. The Vanguard, maybe? City surveillance efforts? It hadn't really mattered.
Variks idly paged through the book before him, skipping over the chapter on Eliksni reproduction, but he was still very much listening as Meren went on.
She had spent the better part of a month listening to those incoherent tapes. Understanding nothing. Meren had hated those voices, and told Variks as much. Referencing translation guides, she had tried to put some of it together with little success. Eventually, with the help of a bot, Meren had been able to make out a few words, phrases. How much headway could you really expect to make in a month, learning an alien language?
But she had persisted. And, one night, laying in bed bemoaning her impending failure with those horrible voices playing in the background, something changed. Maybe it had been fate. The recording that had played next was one she hadn't heard before - the words soft and almost tender. At the time she hadn't known what it was, but that gentle alien voice stuck with her and she had put her full efforts into interpreting it as best she could.
The original translation had been a mess - the bot was no help - but it was better than nothing. Once she had all the words written out before her, Meren had known what it was, on that recording: a lullaby. And as she had listened again and again, she couldn't help but feel moved. The City would have had them believe that the Eliksni were animals. Monsters.
At that, Meren's voice nearly broke. "But what kind of monsters sing their hatchlings to sleep? Had I been lied to? Or were we all so very, very wrong?"
Variks snorted softly, but he finally looked up from the book to meet her eyes.
"So I listened closer to the recordings, the bot's terrible translations, and what I heard there were more than just chattering and growls. There was anger and betrayal and hurt in those voiced. But there was more than just that. I heard hope and joy and love, too. The humanity of it all struck me, then. Maybe the Eliksni were not so different from us. We just hadn't cared or taken the time to understand."
Meren leaned forward in her chair. "That was the beginning of my fascination, as you call it. After that, I had to know more. So I dedicated every last waking minute to the study of Eliksni in hopes of learning everything I could about the people with whom we now share our star."
If he had found her story moving in the least, he didn't show it. Variks' eyes betrayed nothing. "And then you became a professor, yes? To share your fascination with your City."
"Partially," Meren mused. "But there's more to it than that."
"Explain."
She considered for a moment before telling him the truth: her most private motives, her hopes. "For all our differences, humans and Eliksni are very much alike. And knowing what I do now, I see no reason we cannot coexist peacefully. That's why I teach, why I write. Even if no one ever reads my words. It's why I stand before a half-empty lecture hall waiting to see a spark of empathy in my students." Meren paused. "Because I want humans to understand just how very wrong we have been about the Eliksni all this time. And I want us to be able to move forward past old disagreements. Together."
Variks blinked back slowly at her admission. "An honorable goal...however, it seems unlikely. Your City will never change, Meren."
"Not with that attitude. You need to be more optimistic, Variks."
"Like you, yes?" He mocked.
Meren shot him a good-natured glare. "We're sitting here talking as friends, aren't we? That has to count for something."
"One open-minded human is not change."
"It's more than just me, and you know it." She said pointedly. "The Guardians like you, most of them."
"Some," Variks corrected.
"Either way. It's a start."
He let out a sigh before finally relenting. "It is."
The Eliksni glanced down at the book before him, flipping quickly through the remainder of it. As he reached the end, Variks stopped suddenly, hand frozen against the paper. On the very last page, Meren's lullaby was hand written in beautiful Eliksni glyphs. He blinked slowly at the words on the paper, a wistful look in his eyes. "This is the lullaby you spoke of?"
"Yes."
"It is...very old," he offered.
"Do you know it?"
"I do," he said, "but no one ever sang it to me."
His words filled her with momentary sadness, but Meren understood. Variks, like all other scribes, probably never knew his own mother. No Eliksni was ever born into House Judgement. They all came from other Houses, selected as hatchlings to be given to the scribes and raised in kind. It ensured they were impartial, detached. Their loyalty not to ketch or kin, but Judgement alone.
Variks, seemingly unbothered by his lack of parentage, looked at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps you would like to now?"
Meren blinked at him, mortified. "Absolutely not!"
"Do not be shy."
"I'm not," she said defensively. "You've heard me speak Eliksni, now imagine me singing it."
"Would not be so bad," he tried.
Meren stabbed a finger at the table. "It would be terrible."
Variks chuckled. "You will change your mind eventually. Then I will hear your song."
"Don't count on it."
"I very much am." Variks purred, closing the leather bound book with a snap as he stood. "Will read this later. I appreciate your gift, but do not expect to learn much from it."
Of course not. Meren gave him an amused look. "I'm sure you'll be happy to let me know of any errors you find."
Variks regarded her for a moment before replying with all seriousness. "There will not be any."
It was quite a compliment, coming from him. Meren's lips curled into a smile at his confidence in her work.
Variks rounded the table, heading for the door to the security hub. As he passed Meren, he let his claws brush across her shoulder. "Come with me. Want to show you something."
Meren rose to accompany him. So long as they weren't going to see the Hive, she would gladly follow him to every last corner of this accursed place. Variks nudged her out through the doorway, down the corridor, and into the waiting lift.
The gears squealed to life, conveying them higher and higher to the Prison's uppermost levels. Meren, for the most part, was quiet, pondering over what her companion was so intent on showing her up here. The scribe beside her said little in return, but Meren could feel his eyes on her the entire time.
When the lift came to a stop, Variks guided them down a narrow, curving hallway that followed the perimeter of the complex. The air up here was crisp and cool, with none of the unpleasant smells of the Prison's lower levels. Gone too were the multitude of alien cries that so frequently echoed through the darkened corridors. There was no hum of generators or compressors, no mechanical whine of the lifts or the Prison's other transport systems. Nothing save the two companions' soft footfalls as they made their way to the end of the gloomy passage.
When they reached a sprawling halfmoon door, it opened to the scribe's touch. Squealing from disuse, it slid aside to reveal a ramshackle balcony with a sweeping view of the Reef beyond. The overlook hardly looked structurally sound, but Meren followed her friend faithfully outside.
A cool breeze from the heart of the Reef whipped past them, ruffling the fur at Variks' neck and sending a shiver through Meren. It was a funny thing, wind out here in the emptiness of space, but a welcome change from the Prison's stagnant air.
Variks eyed her for a moment as they stopped before the balcony's shoddy railing. "Are you cold?"
"Not really." Though she was far from warm, the temperature was bearable for the moment.
Variks tilted his head ever so slightly, peering down at her, before clasping his two lower hands behind his back. "It is beautiful, no?"
From the balcony, the view of the violet expanse that stretched out before them was all-consuming. Enveloping. Nestled among the stars, the web of tangled wreckage glistened brilliantly with an ethereal light before a backdrop of roiling silver mists. It was truly something to behold. Though she saw bits and pieces of the Awoken realm every day, never in her time here had Meren seen a view of the Reef quite like this.
"It is," she agreed.
"Come here sometimes for quiet. To clear my mind. To think." He paused. "It...reminds me of home."
"Riis," Meren breathed.
"Yes," he replied softly. "When the suns set, this was the color of twilight. It was beautiful, Meren."
It was Meren's turn to tilt her head as she looked up at him.
Variks gazed back at her, something gentle about his glowing blue eyes. "I wish you could have seen it. The rolling hills. The towering cities. The endless golden sea. Had pictures once, aboard Kaliks-fel. But the Ketch is gone. All that is left are memories."
"What happened to Kaliks-fel?"
"Tanikss," he growled.
"Oh, right," she muttered. The Wolves had bartered their Ketch away to the notorious mercenary for some reason unknown to Meren, and she wasn't about to derail the entire conversation by asking for details. Right now all she wanted was to hear more about was Riis.
Thankfully, Variks seemed intent on obliging. "Our home was not just beautiful. It was...peaceful. Eliksni lived as kings, bathed in the Light of the Great Machine. Ether flowed freely. Food and drink plentiful." He let out a soft huff. "So many hatchlings."
Meren felt her heart swell a little at the thought of the little ones.
"All Houses lived together in harmony. Wolves and Kings, Rain and Scar. No need for fighting, Eliksni were more than warriors then. We were builders, scholars, caretakers, weavers, healers."
There was a smile in his voice as he continued. "And House Judgement presided over it all. Kept the peace, as I have explained before. The scribes were magnificent then. We had much respect. And such radiant garments. Colorful. Soft. Finely-made." Variks scoffed as he gestured to his own robes. "Not like this."
Meren couldn't help but smirk at his own admission of vanity. Variks noticed her smile and gave her a playful, pointed look in return.
"Riis was a paradise for so long. It was all I had ever known, and thought it would never end." Variks paused. When he spoke again, his voice sounded downcast. "But it did. The Great Machine left us, everything ripped away in an instant. And Eliksni were left with no past, no future. Nothing."
Variks slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, eyes fixed on the deadly beauty of the Reef before them.
"That was the Whirlwind," Meren asked, "that took everything from you?"
The Eliksni didn't look at her. He just nodded once, slowly.
"Tell me about it," she urged, overenthusiastic.
"Meren…" Variks sighed.
Shit. She realized too late how impossibly rude she had been, asking him to discuss the undoubtedly painful subject. "No. I didn't...I mean- You don't have to."
"I will tell you. Because you have asked," he relented. "But, only this once. We will never speak of it again. Understand?"
Meren nodded faintly.
Variks weighed his words for a moment before he began, his voice low. "It was sudden, the arrival of the Black Fleet, the descent of Darkness. The sky fell away in a single day and the Great Machine fled. With it went our prosperity, our peace, and our hope."
"So many Eliksni dead, dying. Can never forget their wails." He let out a shuddering sigh. "We tried together, for a time, to repel the legions of Darkness. But it waged war on more than just flesh and blood, filling our minds with lies. There was such despair. Dread. Unlike anything I have ever felt. Never would wish that feeling upon you, Meren, that Darkness brings. All-consuming emptiness. Hopelessness. Pain."
Even after centuries, the scribe still remembered. Meren could see the anguish in his eyes, hear it in his voice. In that moment, so badly did she want to reach out and comfort him.
"It corrupted the hearts of Eliksni, the Kells most of all. And the Houses fell to fighting. Not our foe, but each other. In that despair, they turned on the healers. Then the scholars. Then the scribes. Until only those thirsty for war were left."
Meren opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But words failed her.
Variks shook his head sadly. "But they were no match for the Dark, even then. And what Houses remained were forced to abandon Riis, fleeing out into the cold, emptiness between the stars."
"I escaped with the remnant of House Rain, the few that were left. Was not there to see what happened next, but I have heard the tales. A Hive god and his minions. Utter destruction. Eliksni possessed. Taken. Those monsters ravaged what remained of Riis, left none alive."
Variks bowed his head. "That was the end of it, our home. Now it is nothing more than a barren wasteland, overrun by creatures of darkness. Even if we wished to, we dare not return. And we never shall…"
I'm sorry, her heart ached in sympathy. But anything she could have said felt empty, not enough. His recount left her at a loss and all she could do was utter his name.
"Variks…"
His head turned slowly as he looked to her with weary eyes. "Do not let it trouble you. This is my great tragedy. Not yours."
"It's...empathy." Meren offered kindly, "You're my friend, and I don't like seeing you hurt like this."
"Ah," Variks replied. "Your heart is too gentle."
"Is that such a terrible thing?" She searched his gaze.
Variks' eyes narrowed before he looked away and shook his head. "No."
Meren couldn't help it anymore. She reached out and put her hand against his back, letting her fingers bury themselves in the silky fur that draped down from around his neck. Beneath it, she could feel his unyielding carapace as he leaned ever so slightly into her touch. The fur was soft against her palm as she ran her hand over his back in a gentle caress, hoping to bring him some bit of comfort. Only when Variks let out a faint chitter of contentment, did Meren let her hand slowly fall away.
When he spoke again, Variks didn't look at her. "Let us speak of more pleasant things. Perhaps the prophecies of House Rain would lift your spirits."
"You want to recite poetry for me?" Meren tried so hard to keep the grin off her face.
Variks continued to stare out at the stars. "If it would make you happier…"
"Me?" She hesitated. "You're the one who needs cheering up."
"You will see to that," the scribe said simply.
Meren looked at him, puzzled. "I…how?"
Variks' claws drummed lightly against the balcony's railing. "Your presence is... soothing, Meren. Enough to make me happy."
A shiver went through her, unbidden, at his words. Or perhaps it was from standing out here too long in the wind. Whichever it was, Meren couldn't tell.
Two of his eyes fell on her. "You are cold."
"Maybe a little."
"Then let us go somewhere warm." Variks put a hand against the small of her back, turning her back toward the door. Meren smiled as she let him guide her back inside. Who has a gentle heart, now? As they crossed the threshold, Variks leaned his face over and gave the top of her head a reassuring nudge so faint that Meren barely felt it at all.
Variks returned her to the security hub where they had started their day. It wasn't until she had caught a chill that Meren noticed how warm it was down in that little room with all the consoles and monitors humming away. As she settled back down in her chair at the table, Variks didn't join her.
He turned back for the door. "Wait here."
"Where are you going?"
"I will be back in a moment, Meren. Surely you can manage without me for that long." He shot her a playful look. His dour mood seemed to be lifting already.
"I'll try," she said sardonically.
As promised, Variks was gone no longer than five minutes, returning with something clutched in his lower claws. Meren, having survived his absence, peered curiously at him as he set a steaming ochre mug before her.
"Tea," he chirped, "to warm you."
Meren surveyed it skeptically, trying to reassure herself it wasn't Vex milk or something worse. "You didn't get this from the lab, did you?"
Variks snorted. "No."
She looked into the mug for just a second longer, trusting him. It looked for all the world like tea, smelled like tea. And when she brought it to her lips it tasted like tea, of a sort. The drink was herbal and sweet and warm on her tongue. Only after she had swallowed the first sip, did she notice the faintest taste of something else.
Her eyes shot to Variks. "There's Ether in this."
Variks spread his hands innocently. "What did you expect?"
"For you not to try to kill me," she jested.
He let out a mirthful huff. "Will not kill you. Humans tolerate Ether better than most species."
"I'll let you remind me of that when I can see sound and smell colors." She took another sip.
"There is not so much as to inebriate you," he reassured, "Just enough to help you relax."
Meren looked into the mug again and hummed. "I suppose this would have the opposite effect on you."
"More or less." Variks finally returned to the seat across from her. "Ether feels...how to describe it...life-giving. Strengthening. Arousing."
"Arousing." Meren repeated flatly.
Variks tilted his head as if he didn't understand the connotation of the word. "Yess."
He tried so hard to look innocent, but his own eyes betrayed him, glittering back at Meren. Variks knew exactly what he had said, and Meren just shook her head slowly at his lack of propriety. Any further conversation on the effects of Ether on Eliksni wouldn't be productive, or appropriate for that matter, at this rate. So Meren let it drop.
The tea really was doing wonders to warm her up and she smiled across the table at the scribe. He had been so very thoughtful by bringing it to her. "Thank you, Variks."
Variks closed his outer eyes and let out a soft rumble of contentment.
Meren sipped at her tea for a bit longer, letting the promised wave of relaxation wash over her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered what Variks had promised to tell her out on the balcony. When she finally opened her eyes a second later, she peered over the mug at him expectantly.
Variks narrowed his eyes, studying her.
He didn't seem to understand her unspoken urging, and she elaborated helpfully, "I'm ready for my poetry."
"Was not entirely serious," he replied, voice flat.
Meren gave him a disappointment look.
"Meren," he growled, "you are being ma-nip-ulative, looking so...pitiful. Did I behave like this when you refused me your song?"
It was hardly fair, but Meren was unbothered. The scribe had a soft spot for her, after all, so she slumped her shoulders and doubled down on the pathetic look.
Variks leaned back and groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Very well."
He took his time deactivating the vocal synth on his mask, sighing before he leaned forward and met Meren's eyes. His voice was a silken purr as he began in Eliksni.
"Before him, foes will flee or fall. But he will heal the houses, make them whole."
"The Great Machine will marvel, moved by might, and come to crown him Kell of Kells."
"What Whirlwind whisked away will be rewrought, and every kell and ketch will kneel to the Kell of Kells."
Enchanted, Meren hung on Variks' every word. Even in the Eliksni's guttural tongue, the carefully-constructed verses managed to sound beautiful, poetic. The same could not be said of the translation, however; it was sorely lacking that same lustre.
His recitation finished, Variks put his lower hands out, palms up. "Happy now?"
"What does it mean?" Meren asked, captivated.
"The prophets of House Rain are gone, and they left us with no insight into their words."
"I mean, what do you make of them?"
Variks was quiet for a moment as he touched his mask again. "They are words of hope for the Eliksni. A future rebuilt with help from the Great Machine, and a leader unlike any Eliksni have ever known." Variks paused." This...Kell of Kells will unite our people under one banner, all Houses together. And Eliksni will rise again. As one."
Meren thought she caught the faintest trace of optimism in his voice. "Do you believe it will happen?"
"I want to," Variks admitted softly. "There are so few left who care to remember. But even a prophecy forgotten can still come to pass."
"I hope it does," she said with sincerity.
"If only more thought like you."
Meren took another sip of tea. "Optimism, remember? Your Kell of Kells is going to need a scribe, Variks. You had better be ready for that."
He looked at her for a long contemplative moment. "Just as your City needs you, yes?"
"Perhaps we both have a part to play in the future of our people."
Variks hummed.
"The Eliksni will heal and humanity's hearts will soften, I'm sure of it. We just have to be patient," she offered optimistically. "Then our people can move forward together."
That would be something to see, Eliksni and humans living united in harmony. With the current state of things, Meren privately doubted she'd live long enough to witness such a peace. But when had it ever hurt to have hope?
"Eliksni and humans together," Variks mused.
Meren smiled. "Like us."
He looked at her earnestly and when he spoke there was hope in his voice this time. "Yess, Meren. Like us."
The time slipped away as they talked on for a while longer. Only when Meren noticed Variks' eyelids beginning to droop, did she realize how long they had been sitting there. Where had the day gone?
She made to thank him for his time and to apologize for keeping him from his duties for so long.
"Do not have to leave." Variks shook his head briskly, clearing the weariness from his eyes.
"I have a lot of reading to do." Meren rose, leaving her empty mug on the table. As the security hub's doors opened, she was just about to depart when the scribe's voice stopped her.
"May I accompany you back to your room?"
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't you have work to do?"
"I do," he said, voice tired, "but it can wait for a little longer."
Meren gave him a quizzical smile. "I'm not going to get lost. No matter what you think."
Variks chuckled. "Of course not. This would merely give us more time to enjoy each other's company."
She enjoyed the thought of that, but couldn't help but tease him. "Haven't you had enough of me?"
Variks blinked back slowly. "Not yet."
She offered him a wry smile in return. "Hurry up, then."
Variks popped up from his seat to join her in the doorway. Together they left the Prison behind, venturing out past the transport hub back to the Vestian Outpost's residence sector. They talked of simple things: City holidays and festivities. Neither of which would raise suspicion if they were overhead.
When they finally reached the door to Meren's room, she politely thanked him for his escort before turning to go inside. Variks made no move to leave and she met his gaze with a questioning look. Now what?
"May I come inside?" he asked politely.
Meren furrowed her brow. "Why?"
"Want to say goodnight."
"You can't do that here?" she deadpanned.
He spread his hands. "Surely you understand by now."
"Too many ears," Meren muttered, "I know."
She couldn't imagine how someone overhearing their goodbye could possibly be problematic, but she humored him and extended her arm, gesturing him inside. Only after looking quickly down the hallway in both directions, did Variks duck inside the little room. Meren shook her head and followed, letting the door close behind her.
The scribe didn't make it much further than the entryway before he turned to look down on her, eyes glittering. "Why are you nervous?" He purred. "I am only here to bid you goodnight."
"I'm not…" she insisted.
"Smells like it."
She wasn't about to admit that having him in here made her the slightest bit uneasy. "Get to the point."
"I...enjoyed our conversations today, your companionship. Very much," he began slowly. "You are...unique, Meren. Special. Have never met anyone quite like you."
Special? It had practically taken an act of the gods to drag any modicum of sentiment out of him in the past. What had gotten into him? Meren stared, unsure how to respond for a long moment. "That's...very sweet of you to say."
The Eliksni cocked his head. "You enjoyed yourself too, yes?"
"I did," she admitted with a faint smile. "You're not so bad yourself."
Variks closed his outer eyes. "Then you will be back to see me tomorrow?"
"What else am I going to do?"
"Perhaps you wish to visit Spider." He paused to let out a rumbling growl. "Or Arrha."
She scoffed softly. "You know better than that. The only person I really want to see is you." Had she seriously said that last bit out loud?
"Ahhhh." Variks straightened up a little, looking all the more imposing. "I have been thinking," he purred, "it is a long way for you to come to the Prison each day. Perhaps would be better for you to stay with me than here."
Meren's eyes widened at how forward the sudden offer was. "With you?"
Variks nodded. "I am certain you would find my accommodations comfortable."
"That's... incredibly generous of you."
"It is no trouble, I assure you."
Meren deflected as best she could. "You would get tired of me."
"I very much doubt that," he rumbled.
She was hardly prepared for what happened next. Variks reached out, his thumb grazing her cheek ever so gently as his claws entwined themselves in a lock of her hair. Meren's insides froze solid as he gazed down at her with glittering eyes. Traveler save me, she thought as she stared right back, momentarily lost in those damned eyes.
She couldn't think. "Variks, I-"
"It will not offend me if you refuse," he said with a purr before letting her hair fall from his claws.
Meren did her best to pull herself together, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "While I appreciate the offer. The accommodations the Awoken have provided will suffice."
"Whatever suits you," he replied dispassionately with a wave of his hand. "I look forward to your visit tomorrow."
Turning to go, he bobbed his head one last time. "Sleep well, Meren."
"Goodnight," she whispered as he showed himself out.
Meren stood motionless staring at the closed door for a long minute after he had left. She couldn't stop thinking about those eyes. How he had looked at her. What had just happened? When her insides settled and her mind cleared slightly, only then did she turn away with a sigh.
"Variks…" She shook her head.
What would have happened if she had agreed to stay with him? Nothing, she told herself, that's what. Eliksni had no interest in humans, a scribe of House Judgement least of all. He was merely trying to be polite. Nothing more.
Right?
But as she sunk down onto the edge of her bed, second guessing the scribe's motives, she found to her own mortification, that a part of her was deathly curious about what might have happened if she had agreed to stay.
AN: Thank you to Keltoi, the best editor and lore fact-checker I could ever ask for.
