𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲

Why do they speak silence?

I hear you.

I'll find you.

Just...

Wait. Wait. Eat a little more time.

There's no challenge here.

Yes.

A 'God'?

- forget. But!" Her voice pitches, "you did deliver... vaguely, and so shall I. A name that means nothing to you. The oh so divine name, Spirit of Ceaseless Glory."

- down, always— nothing is what you want it to be, is it?"

A smirk curls around her words as she tilts her head, eyes shifting over the Sangheili. She prepares for violence. Nothing was kind. Strength and steel was all that spoke.

"We discover it painfully. A [pinch] you'll never -

- frequently."

Another chuckle, for she couldn't quite believe it.

"Gods?"

They had thought of Forerunners as Gods. Certainly the Builders saw themselves as such— as much as other rates.

"Am I god-like enough? Expectations are difficult to embody. So many chances to let someone -

- tightly, huffing as some of it peels. Then, in one smooth motion she swings down, landing with bent knees a few meters from the lead saurian.

"Interrupted from my perch, by—" she snorts, hands hovering over her stowed blades. "Followers. Or ex-followers? Allegiances change so -

"Amusing, aren't you?" She chuckles around a sneer, not entirely amused at all. "Death hasn't swept me up despite all the opportunities it's had. Yet here I stand..."

With a rough sigh and a roll of her shoulders she slips her daggers back onto her armour. Her fingers grip the branch -

The thrill of an encounter offers fulfilment. Nothingness has replaced warm whispers, methodical turns, and sincere accomplishments.

Change it— Carve it into something new.

Something else.

*What that something else is, she doesn't entirely know. Certainty was a luxury she couldn't afford.*

What do you think you are, [ape]?

What am I to find? A future? It is buried too deep. It is gone. One or both. Time wears my fingers to the bone no matter it's state.

But you have nothing more. This is all you offer me. This is all you all offer me.

- attention. A distraction that she hadn't intended. A test; it says.

How low was that bar?

"But," her voice pitches. "Whose authority offers this intelligence? Answer this— yes, yes— and more. You shall have the name and you shall all keep your heads."

A generous deal.

- offers a loud sigh. So far they were... different? Maybe. Better? Debatable.

"[The bar is low]," she murmurs to herself before raising her voice.

"A name is what you ask for. A name is what you'll have. A name that means nothing to you..."

Lifting herself up, a thought clamours got her -

The fan of inert blades locked between her fingers tap thoughtfully at the bark of her perch. Intention takes a moment to filter through.

"'Honour'?"

Crouching low against her branch her chest heaves with mocking laughter.

"Is a [noose]. Outdated. Pointless— why don't you ask the dead?"

She -

- one can be overcome through lessons."

"How long until you are more metal than flesh?" She murmurs, head tilting curiously at the areas he points out. So many injuries to a delicate area. How had they occurred? Thanks certainly looked like he could handle himself.

"Outnumbered? Outmatched? Or a mix of both? Only -

Yes.

*The word is snappy as she busies herself with putting her tools away. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.*

Do you? Are you a puppet? A key? A repository? Or something... else?

Aya. Some know. Some don't.

*Satisfied, she rocks back onto her feet with a rough snicker.*

You understand what it is?

*A hum wavers between her tightly pressed lips. The orange of her visor stares at Angel for a long few seconds as she debates with herself.*

For now you have a use. A tool.

*She taps what's left of Angel's let once more, with a little more force than before.*

We're all a tool for someone else.

I miss the old stars.

- alternates a few sharp taps between flesh and metal.*

Are you capable of feeling a difference?

*She hums through her teeth. It's a reluctant agreement. But in this instance they were... fortunately correct.*

Always.

*After a few moments of terse silence she finally withdraws, tools clenched tightly between her fingers.*

Done. For now.

*She -

'Decent'?

*She presses a little too hard as her voice sharpens.*

[Apes] know nothing of greatness. You are built of weak bodies and weaker minds.

*Another succession of sharp alterations follow with less care than before.*

Soon you will crave more.

Pulling you apart will be a revelry.