[ Set joins him, in silence. Crooking his finger to draw Silco away from the first warehouse and deeper into the docks, toward another that lists and leans and requires a little bit of navigating to creep into, as water laps over the dilapidated wood and creaking, moaning planks fill the atmosphere with a haunting sound. His claws scrape over barnacles, as he emerges into the remainder of the warehouse: the floor still even, the ceiling high and space vast enough. There's one entrance in, and he likes it for its relative security. ]
You left your Syntrofos behind, I assume?
[ He did. No need to allow anyone to influence or spy on them through it. ]
I want to discuss our next move. My militia has caught the eye of the government, naturally. As your efforts to stir the lower classes of Karterians have, as well. I wonder if we could use one another as leverage β however, I want to know your goal. Considering our conversation about the immediate threat to our autonomy and our homes, we need to pivot to addressing a different enemy than just "social betters" and "annoying controls".
[ It reeks of the sea. Of rotting fish and wood, the smell of salt and algae fills his nose, and it still makes him think of home. Of the fish spoiling on the docks, and the smell of stone and sea mixing on the air. He misses it. Every day he misses it, even while he fights with claws to see it returned. ]
You're fortunate I had it on me when you messaged me to begin with. [ He finally says. ] I never keep it on me.
[ He keeps it off. Locked in a drawer. Hidden away where nobody can find it. Because he refuses to let it come into more contact with him than necessary. ]
Our goals in the end are the same. What I want in the end is to return, in the shape I am now.
As for the people here... [ His head tipped up, considering. ] I want to see them toppled. Let this world consume itself, for all I care, but the ones on top that threaten us? I want to see them reduced to little more than a footnote, and their search for this power to be left by the wayside.
The people here can all fall along with this world. But think of it as a parting gift for the insult, hm?
That, we agree wholeheartedly on. I want to return to my people β I have a duty to them that far exceeds whatever Karterians believe is owed to them.
[ Some of them think that they own him, he knows. He had known months ago, when he'd spoken with the land and looked upon the orchards and farms β a unique, remembered violence living within him ( My sand, my soil. I am your tree, Osiris had said. He had warned him, in a way. Had protected him, from sympathizing too deeply with Karterians. ) that had guided his hand toward a more judicious investigation into the purpose, the intent, of prolonged testing on Augmented. After a large portion of their number had been taken, he had decided to affirm what he suspected: Patho-Gen, or some sect thereof, was interested in an army of their own, and brainwashed Augmented were a key element.
It infuriates him, insults him. His world would always come first, as Silco's would. It's why he goes to him, seeking out his ferocity and paranoia as a boon, rather than a burden. ]
I will not be enslaved to another's will. I would sooner burn this world too, and leave its people to an existence in the ashes, than compromise my freedom. Or forsake my vow. [ He'll end himself, before he ever could be used. ] Which is why I would like to discuss a matter with you.
[ He turns on his toes, bright and elongated like a pretty willow, lotus flowers folded up in the evening gloom. ]
Which better serves to stoke the flame you are building? Utilizing my militia in the government's name, to control and oppress and police β or providing the lower classes access by inviting them into its rank? I know both offer unique opportunity. One encourages hostility between the classes, and could permit me access to the upper echelons for information. The other provides them the means to be trained, and perhaps kitted out with armor and weapons.
[ They're both good options, really. ]
I would choose the first, honestly. It is far more subtle a course of action.
I do not want them in the authorities. They are no good there.
[ Silco is pragmatic. He is sharp. Like Set, he knows the lay of the land, because for all of his paranoia, for all of the outlandish claims he could make... In the end, he is right, because he has lived this life. Over, and over, and over. He's lived this since he was a boy, being called a sump rat and kicked to the curb. Being tossed in the mines to keep him out of trouble, and chased when he and Vander had tried to nick food or valuables to start their smuggling business. When they took Benzo, he'd wanted to fight them, because he knows they will always see them as merely trenchers. They shot them on the bridge, when they were uncontrollable, and unruly. When he'd thrown the molotov, they had attacked, because the violence could only go one way.
It's only when it's their violence that it's allowed.
That breeds anger. That breeds contempt.]
If we give them a place, they become complacent. If we give them the ability to be trained, they will have the mindset of the military. Order following, able to comply, steady meals and safety. Comfort.
[ He wants to see them earn it. ] That makes them tools of the government, in the end, even if they answer to you. They will have full bellies and warm beds.
Full bellies and warm beds do not make the type of desperation necessary for change. There is a violence that must happen, to incite it. To bring it about, they must suffer. They must earn those comforts, through clawing it out of the remains of their enemies.
[ He knew, because he'd seen the Zaun under Vander. Strained, but happy. Beds, bellies. They had been just comfortable enough that they could handle the violence leveled down on them. They had been just this side of complacent. It had taken a lot of anger, a lot of shaking up, to change it. To motivate people to take what they deserved. ]
I will not allow them to simply have it, when desperation will do more for our cause.
You need stronger motivation, then. Something more direct.
[ Like that, an idea forms between them. Born of two individuals who know that to resolve a systemic issue, one must sometimes be ready to burn the system down. What comes afterwards is not their strong suit β Set could be diplomatic, but was not a builder of societies or organizer of philosophies. Silco, well. He was brimstone, smoke, vision that saw far but never quite past the end. Something about him speaks to Set, on a level few others did. He feels the connection to Liem β a sweet hum, like a plucked harp string or a memory he hasn't yet formed. ]
Karterians are largely prim, as well as passive. With the Terra below destroyed, they will begin to run out of food β even the farm may not be enough to resolve the issue. The government has not yet issued rationing orders, which always preserve the upper class foremost and the lowest not at all.
[ This, ultimately, is why he had begun sowing the idea within Karterians that one day, they might have to use military strength. He had framed it as a means of defense against the other cities, lingering on the distant frontier, but now... perhaps, Karteria might become an oppressive force, seizing resources from those cities instead. ]
They need to be angry at the system before they begin to starve. That way, they are motivated to action. Which means, I may become a monster once again. What is the goal, Silco? We want to go home, yes. We may need to seize Patho-Gen's research and technology, in that case. Before they enslave us, and turn us into their new army.
[ Which, he takes NO BLAME for that. He bets that was in the cards long, long before he started sowing the pros of having a real military force. <3 ]
[ He doesn't disagree. With any of it, is the thing. ]
When they have enough, they become complacent. [ He knows it's the truth. He's seen it in his own people. ] I doubt the farms will even be enough, and the people here, they will cannibalize the lower-classes before they even begin to restrict those who make the rules themselves.
But before they begin to starve, they need to be whipped into a frenzy. Me and mine are getting there. They already resent the upper classes, but none of us are keen on starting a fight before they are ready, and ready they are not.
[ They aren't angry enough. Not driven enough. Not strong enough. ]
If you can become their monster, start dogging our tails, and getting them just motivated enough to start working against the military, we can work with that. They need to feel the danger, to start moving forward.
[ A beat. ]
Then we can look forward, to Patho-Gen, to getting home where we belong.
[ He needs to be there. Every day that passes away from Zaun is a day that Silco feels that loss in his heart. Every beat aches to be home, smell the rot and the filth, to see the gray hanging in the sky, and to hold his daughter close, and tell her that it's okay, that he came back, like he promised.
He had to hold to that vow. That he would never leave. ]
Then, how does this sound β I will begin to integrate the militia into supportive gestures. I will draw the line between the approved masses and the undercity you inhabit β teach them to regard you and yours as a "potential future threat".
[ He paces with ease, a languid and leonine thing that trails the scent of lush herbs and arid lands; spice and floral and deep, acrid smoke as if he exists to absorb Silco's presence and flush the world with him. The ease in which he tweaks and adjusts his ideas speaks to his own needs: a little more disorder, a lot more presence and self-importance, and a lack of consideration for a future for people who will not claw it forth from embers themselves. ]
Your own people will feel the pressure, long before the upper classes. I can help with that. We can keep food from them, by "overlooking" them. By blaming you, and some of the other Augmented you might feel confident would make good support system. They will be made to turn to you and your message.
[ Being a monster is second nature to him. A mask he has donned before, will don again, and offers up to Silco because it is a learned, habitual thing. A protective urge, a defense he needs to wear. Slowly, he approaches the other man with a hand offered to him. ]
But you, I will need something from personally. A bond, I think. We are to be in this together, right? Attending one another in clandestine meetings will keep us strong, while we control the outcome of our future. I will help you get home, Silco. I need the same β there is a promise I must keep.
[ Make them turn to him and his. He provides, and that will keep them coming to him. They will look to him as the support for the impoverished and lower classes, and in contrast to those above that withhold. They can perform raids, they can take what they cannot get. They have the smuggling means these days, with their connections in the drugs, and the pharmaceuticals.
They have the medications at cost, and they don't upcharge like Patho-Gen does. It is, in contrast, slower for profits, but they aren't powering as much. They're doing well, considering everything, and Silco knows how to make something from nothing. He'll continue to do so, despite if they are dogged, or if they are being excluded.
They can make something from that.
He nods. ]
You aim to imprint?
[ Would this be his first out of deliberation? Yes, he had agreed to Medarda's, but that had been in the moment, when he'd been shot in the street. But Set say something... that he understands. A promise he must keep, he says.
A twitch of his lips. ]
I have made a promise as well. It is why I must return, intact.
[ With this soul they gave him. He needs it, he knows, otherwise his wounds will open. But if he has it... he can... ]
We have the same goal, Set. To return to our worlds, and leave this one behind to rot and perish as is its fate. That is sealed, the question is whether we will survive despite this world's fate.
I think it the best way to clear the air between us.
[ Set's own ulterior motive is a raw thing, cautiously kept from those he has enforced a connection with; he would bare it specifically to Silco, to keep him properly informed. A partnership, rather than a conquest or a tactical selection. Because of the fact that they have a similar need to return. While Set does not mind the idea of ferrying Karterians to his land, he refuses to do so as an enemy of Egypt β he would sooner rip his Augmenter out and meet his demise on the planet, than allow them access to his innate connection to the arid, hostile lands of his realm. To be wielded, a weapon again, by a hand other than
other than
other than, in ugly truth, Osiris. ] Of any lingering doubts, I mean.
[ To give one another purpose, and protection of their own against the addictive power of the Natural Soul within. ]
I would see everything burn, before I allowed this world to parasitize my own. Karterians are like locusts, feeding on the grain of others as temporary reprieve from their encroaching fate. This world will fall. They will seek refuge upon another. It will not be mine. And, if you accept my imprint β I will ensure it not be yours, either.
[ Silco's lips almost peel back in a snarl. Clear the air, he says, as if he has done anything to allow for doubt. Has he not complied? Has he not gone along with him, and done business as asked?
They are aligned in this. In this they have the same goal. Return to their home, whatever promises they are that link them together. Set does not know that what drives Silco is something that pulls him back from death, like a corpse rising from the water, he will make it back. He must make it back. More than anything, more than the bleeding wounds from his belly, nothing would bar him from Jinx.
Whatever it was that motivated Set, it must be something similar.
What else could motivate someone so doggedly? ]
I do not doubt what is necessary, Set. I will do anything to return, but I want this world to Burn in our wake. For taking us. For trying to take what is ours.
[ He holds out a hand to him. ]
For the prize of returning? I would accept your imprint.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You left your Syntrofos behind, I assume?
[ He did. No need to allow anyone to influence or spy on them through it. ]
I want to discuss our next move. My militia has caught the eye of the government, naturally. As your efforts to stir the lower classes of Karterians have, as well. I wonder if we could use one another as leverage β however, I want to know your goal. Considering our conversation about the immediate threat to our autonomy and our homes, we need to pivot to addressing a different enemy than just "social betters" and "annoying controls".
no subject
You're fortunate I had it on me when you messaged me to begin with. [ He finally says. ] I never keep it on me.
[ He keeps it off. Locked in a drawer. Hidden away where nobody can find it. Because he refuses to let it come into more contact with him than necessary. ]
Our goals in the end are the same. What I want in the end is to return, in the shape I am now.
As for the people here... [ His head tipped up, considering. ] I want to see them toppled. Let this world consume itself, for all I care, but the ones on top that threaten us? I want to see them reduced to little more than a footnote, and their search for this power to be left by the wayside.
The people here can all fall along with this world. But think of it as a parting gift for the insult, hm?
no subject
[ Some of them think that they own him, he knows. He had known months ago, when he'd spoken with the land and looked upon the orchards and farms β a unique, remembered violence living within him ( My sand, my soil. I am your tree, Osiris had said. He had warned him, in a way. Had protected him, from sympathizing too deeply with Karterians. ) that had guided his hand toward a more judicious investigation into the purpose, the intent, of prolonged testing on Augmented. After a large portion of their number had been taken, he had decided to affirm what he suspected: Patho-Gen, or some sect thereof, was interested in an army of their own, and brainwashed Augmented were a key element.
It infuriates him, insults him. His world would always come first, as Silco's would. It's why he goes to him, seeking out his ferocity and paranoia as a boon, rather than a burden. ]
I will not be enslaved to another's will. I would sooner burn this world too, and leave its people to an existence in the ashes, than compromise my freedom. Or forsake my vow. [ He'll end himself, before he ever could be used. ] Which is why I would like to discuss a matter with you.
[ He turns on his toes, bright and elongated like a pretty willow, lotus flowers folded up in the evening gloom. ]
Which better serves to stoke the flame you are building? Utilizing my militia in the government's name, to control and oppress and police β or providing the lower classes access by inviting them into its rank? I know both offer unique opportunity. One encourages hostility between the classes, and could permit me access to the upper echelons for information. The other provides them the means to be trained, and perhaps kitted out with armor and weapons.
[ They're both good options, really. ]
I would choose the first, honestly. It is far more subtle a course of action.
no subject
[ Silco is pragmatic. He is sharp. Like Set, he knows the lay of the land, because for all of his paranoia, for all of the outlandish claims he could make... In the end, he is right, because he has lived this life. Over, and over, and over. He's lived this since he was a boy, being called a sump rat and kicked to the curb. Being tossed in the mines to keep him out of trouble, and chased when he and Vander had tried to nick food or valuables to start their smuggling business. When they took Benzo, he'd wanted to fight them, because he knows they will always see them as merely trenchers. They shot them on the bridge, when they were uncontrollable, and unruly. When he'd thrown the molotov, they had attacked, because the violence could only go one way.
It's only when it's their violence that it's allowed.
That breeds anger. That breeds contempt.]
If we give them a place, they become complacent. If we give them the ability to be trained, they will have the mindset of the military. Order following, able to comply, steady meals and safety. Comfort.
[ He wants to see them earn it. ] That makes them tools of the government, in the end, even if they answer to you. They will have full bellies and warm beds.
Full bellies and warm beds do not make the type of desperation necessary for change. There is a violence that must happen, to incite it. To bring it about, they must suffer. They must earn those comforts, through clawing it out of the remains of their enemies.
[ He knew, because he'd seen the Zaun under Vander. Strained, but happy. Beds, bellies. They had been just comfortable enough that they could handle the violence leveled down on them. They had been just this side of complacent. It had taken a lot of anger, a lot of shaking up, to change it. To motivate people to take what they deserved. ]
I will not allow them to simply have it, when desperation will do more for our cause.
no subject
[ Like that, an idea forms between them. Born of two individuals who know that to resolve a systemic issue, one must sometimes be ready to burn the system down. What comes afterwards is not their strong suit β Set could be diplomatic, but was not a builder of societies or organizer of philosophies. Silco, well. He was brimstone, smoke, vision that saw far but never quite past the end. Something about him speaks to Set, on a level few others did. He feels the connection to Liem β a sweet hum, like a plucked harp string or a memory he hasn't yet formed. ]
Karterians are largely prim, as well as passive. With the Terra below destroyed, they will begin to run out of food β even the farm may not be enough to resolve the issue. The government has not yet issued rationing orders, which always preserve the upper class foremost and the lowest not at all.
[ This, ultimately, is why he had begun sowing the idea within Karterians that one day, they might have to use military strength. He had framed it as a means of defense against the other cities, lingering on the distant frontier, but now... perhaps, Karteria might become an oppressive force, seizing resources from those cities instead. ]
They need to be angry at the system before they begin to starve. That way, they are motivated to action. Which means, I may become a monster once again. What is the goal, Silco? We want to go home, yes. We may need to seize Patho-Gen's research and technology, in that case. Before they enslave us, and turn us into their new army.
[ Which, he takes NO BLAME for that. He bets that was in the cards long, long before he started sowing the pros of having a real military force. <3 ]
no subject
When they have enough, they become complacent. [ He knows it's the truth. He's seen it in his own people. ] I doubt the farms will even be enough, and the people here, they will cannibalize the lower-classes before they even begin to restrict those who make the rules themselves.
But before they begin to starve, they need to be whipped into a frenzy. Me and mine are getting there. They already resent the upper classes, but none of us are keen on starting a fight before they are ready, and ready they are not.
[ They aren't angry enough. Not driven enough. Not strong enough. ]
If you can become their monster, start dogging our tails, and getting them just motivated enough to start working against the military, we can work with that. They need to feel the danger, to start moving forward.
[ A beat. ]
Then we can look forward, to Patho-Gen, to getting home where we belong.
[ He needs to be there. Every day that passes away from Zaun is a day that Silco feels that loss in his heart. Every beat aches to be home, smell the rot and the filth, to see the gray hanging in the sky, and to hold his daughter close, and tell her that it's okay, that he came back, like he promised.
He had to hold to that vow. That he would never leave. ]
no subject
[ He paces with ease, a languid and leonine thing that trails the scent of lush herbs and arid lands; spice and floral and deep, acrid smoke as if he exists to absorb Silco's presence and flush the world with him. The ease in which he tweaks and adjusts his ideas speaks to his own needs: a little more disorder, a lot more presence and self-importance, and a lack of consideration for a future for people who will not claw it forth from embers themselves. ]
Your own people will feel the pressure, long before the upper classes. I can help with that. We can keep food from them, by "overlooking" them. By blaming you, and some of the other Augmented you might feel confident would make good support system. They will be made to turn to you and your message.
[ Being a monster is second nature to him. A mask he has donned before, will don again, and offers up to Silco because it is a learned, habitual thing. A protective urge, a defense he needs to wear. Slowly, he approaches the other man with a hand offered to him. ]
But you, I will need something from personally. A bond, I think. We are to be in this together, right? Attending one another in clandestine meetings will keep us strong, while we control the outcome of our future. I will help you get home, Silco. I need the same β there is a promise I must keep.
no subject
They have the medications at cost, and they don't upcharge like Patho-Gen does. It is, in contrast, slower for profits, but they aren't powering as much. They're doing well, considering everything, and Silco knows how to make something from nothing. He'll continue to do so, despite if they are dogged, or if they are being excluded.
They can make something from that.
He nods. ]
You aim to imprint?
[ Would this be his first out of deliberation? Yes, he had agreed to Medarda's, but that had been in the moment, when he'd been shot in the street. But Set say something... that he understands. A promise he must keep, he says.
A twitch of his lips. ]
I have made a promise as well. It is why I must return, intact.
[ With this soul they gave him. He needs it, he knows, otherwise his wounds will open. But if he has it... he can... ]
We have the same goal, Set. To return to our worlds, and leave this one behind to rot and perish as is its fate. That is sealed, the question is whether we will survive despite this world's fate.
no subject
[ Set's own ulterior motive is a raw thing, cautiously kept from those he has enforced a connection with; he would bare it specifically to Silco, to keep him properly informed. A partnership, rather than a conquest or a tactical selection. Because of the fact that they have a similar need to return. While Set does not mind the idea of ferrying Karterians to his land, he refuses to do so as an enemy of Egypt β he would sooner rip his Augmenter out and meet his demise on the planet, than allow them access to his innate connection to the arid, hostile lands of his realm. To be wielded, a weapon again, by a hand other than
other than
other than, in ugly truth, Osiris. ] Of any lingering doubts, I mean.
[ To give one another purpose, and protection of their own against the addictive power of the Natural Soul within. ]
I would see everything burn, before I allowed this world to parasitize my own. Karterians are like locusts, feeding on the grain of others as temporary reprieve from their encroaching fate. This world will fall. They will seek refuge upon another. It will not be mine. And, if you accept my imprint β I will ensure it not be yours, either.
no subject
They are aligned in this. In this they have the same goal. Return to their home, whatever promises they are that link them together. Set does not know that what drives Silco is something that pulls him back from death, like a corpse rising from the water, he will make it back. He must make it back. More than anything, more than the bleeding wounds from his belly, nothing would bar him from Jinx.
Whatever it was that motivated Set, it must be something similar.
What else could motivate someone so doggedly? ]
I do not doubt what is necessary, Set. I will do anything to return, but I want this world to Burn in our wake. For taking us. For trying to take what is ours.
[ He holds out a hand to him. ]
For the prize of returning? I would accept your imprint.