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Wandering through the halls of the mon'keigh ship, she could not help but feel saddened.
It felt dead.
Despite the hiss and hums of the steam travelling through its wall, or the pumping of its odd machinery - that which their ‘Voidborn’ called the breath and pulse of the ship. But it was a dead amalgamation of metal and steel, entirely devoid of true life. It was nothing like Crudarach - it had nothing that came even close to a true life force, or a soul.
No whisper of spiritstones lingered in its bones. No infinity hummed beneath its skin.
Psychically, there was only silence - save for the claustrophobic pressure of mon'keigh emotion, unfiltered, unguarded, a constant and graceless noise. And Sai’lanthresh’s presence beyond these walls.
It was not surprising, of course, and she had not expected anything else. After all, a mon'keigh ship reflected the mon'keigh: crude, and primitive, and built for violence.
These dimly lit corridors, with the flickering ‘Lumen’ that were too bright and too artificial to be pleasant, and the plated plasteel walls around her that felt claustrophobically tight, could not even begin to compare to the beauty of an Asyurani Craftworld. Where there was only cold, lifeless grey here, her home had housed a dozen shades of green and the bright colors of nature. Where this ship only showed jagged edges and brutal shapes, her home had been carved into the most elegant curves, decorated in beautiful filigree. And where she had once been surrounded by kin, she was now met with the hostile glances and thinly veiled animosity of creatures that were not even aware of their inferiority anywhere she went.
It was the Path she had chosen, in the end - it was the Path that had spared her, at the cost of a home. She had left Crudarach, exactly so that she could find her Path in the experiences that waited for her, beyond the confines of her homeworld. But still, she could not help the deep-seated melancholy of knowing her Path would never allow her to return to the beauty of its halls again, and that knowledge never felt as present as it was now - now that she had exchanged the natural beauty of the Lilaethan, for the confines of the Mors Aeternae.
The Eternal Death, in crude mon'keigh tongue.
A fitting name, chosen by a species who had nothing but death and violence on its mind. Whose lives burned so short and bright, and yet they did not seem to respect their ends all the same. They were only too willing to push their kin towards it any chance they got.
Even aboard this ship. She had not travelled alongside the Elantach for long, but she had already witnessed them venting entire compartments as if the people within them meant nothing, and she had witnessed the carelessness with which one would draw a knife to stab the other in minor dispute, or how tired workers would collapse from exhaustion and be crushed by the very machines they were meant to control. Everywhere she went, she was surrounded by these cruel abominations that the mon'keigh called ‘Servitors’. And though she was surrounded by nothing but suffering wherever she looked, none of them seemed to bat an eye.
And yet her mere presence, they took offense with.
It was of little concern to her, in the end, how a lesser species might choose to cannibalize itself. But nevertheless, she could not help but marvel at it, for she could not imagine a living, sentient being having so little concern for its kin and its equals. She could not imagine herself ever looking at her own people through such eyes - no matter how their arrogance and narrow mind had frustrated her at times.
It was pleasant to get away from it all for a while, and enjoy her solitude in quiet exploration, even in a place that felt as oppressive as this - if it weren’t for the footsteps that were drawing closer.
The Elantach had extended his protection to her, for as long as their alliance stood, and in this she put her trust - but even knowing herself safe, she braced herself for cruelty veiled in words to be slung at her, as they ever would be.
“Yrliet,” it was her name that she was greeted with, in lieu of xenos, spoken as if the word itself dripped with foreign poisons.
“Elantach,” she returned calmly.
Coming to a halt in front of her, she could not help but note that he looked tired. Deep shadows hung underneath his eyes - but perhaps they were always there, though usually covered in the black pigment that he seemed to have forgone today. To him clung the same cloud of sweet and herbal smoke that she was beginning to grow used to; a result of the glimmering, rolled up stick of paper hanging from his lips. It was another needless indulgence of theirs she might never understand, though surprisingly even to herself - she realized she was not actually averse to that smell. Not anymore.
At first, she had found it unpleasant - an unclean stench, earthen but wrong, that penetrated the senses. But now… somewhere along the lines of being exposed to it, it had started to become expected. It followed him wherever he went, and it was starting to become as familiar as the scent of flowers. It was certainly preferable to the sharp bite of chemicals and promethium that usually colored the air of this vessel.
“Are you still exploring the ship?”
“There is little to explore here, Elantach, safe lifeless steel and cold metal.”
He hummed quietly. “Taking a stroll then? I prefer the maintenance routes too, they are less crowded. Though I am surprised they’d just let you wander around by yourself in here.”
Yrliet could not help but lower her eyes in defiance at the thinly veiled accusation. “Am I in need of permission to be here? No one had attempted to stop me, and I did not deceive anyone.”
The look he gave her in response was a curious one - she could not gauge the sentiment behind it. But he was a curious mon'keigh in general. She could see the heaviness that clung to his soul. She had seen the cruelty of which he was capable, and he had shown it many times even in the short while they had known each other - and yet, he had approached her kin on the Lilaethan with such understanding, such respect that it had nigh left her breathless. She did not understand why, nor did she understand the kindness in his voice whenever he addressed her. She only understood that he was amongst the few mon'keigh whose voice carried any sympathy at all, and that she did not truly know what to make of it.
She desperately wanted to believe it was genuine, but she would not stake her life on it yet. A single wrong word, she knew, and the friendly hand could be retracted as easily as it had once been extended.
“I did not mean to insinuate that, my apologies.”
Silence remained between them, for a good few beats of the heart.
Eventually, the Elantach continued, his gaze slowly scanning the walls that entombed them both: “You’re right, this is not exactly a scenic route. Though no place aboard the flagship could match Janus in its beauty - nor one of your Craftworlds, I imagine.”
Yrliet could hear the edge of distrust as it crept into her own voice. “And what do you know of our Craftworlds, Elantach?”
Again, this strange look. “That they are essentially alive, carved from living wraithbone. That they are the size of planets, housing its own flora and fauna. That they are said to be beautiful, and each and every one of them unique.”
“A simplistic description, and still, you seem well versed in my people’s culture.” She could not help but dislike it. Their homes were not for Outsiders to know. “Why is that, Elantach?”
He shrugged calmly. “I like to read. It sounds nice, though, growing up surrounded by… well, an ecosystem.”
She could only remain quiet, unsure of what she ought to respond, or what the purpose of this conversation even was.
“Janus was the first time I truly got to see untouched nature. On the Hive worlds… well, it’s all concrete and decay, worse even than the lifeless steel and cold metal of the flagship. At least these corridors get polished.”
Something in the sincerity of his words took her aback. The way he enunciated, echoing her own words back at her with a small smile, felt like he was trying to share in a joke with her, rather than attempting to mock her. Was this… was he trying to connect?
Theirs was an alliance borne of a common enemy - he was to be her wings, she was to be his spear. What space remained there for them to connect in understanding, when they and theirs could not be further apart?
And still, she could not help but feel saddened for him, then, and for the words he had spoken, even in jest - she could not imagine being denied to experience the beauty of life for that long.
Still, she remained silent, and he regarded her with a careful glance.
“It must be difficult to be here on your own. Surely, you must miss Janus?”
“I have been on my own for a long time now, Elantach. The mon'keigh on the Lilaethan were as unpleasant as the mon'keigh here. But do not dare presume me lonely.” A small, barely perceptible twitch of the lips - perhaps it was dismay, perhaps disappointment. But beyond that, his face remained as unreadable as she carefully kept hers. After a short hesitation, trying to overcome that hostile edge that had long snuck into her voice, she added: “There is calm to be found in solitude.”
“Of course.” The tip of his ‘Lho’ glimmered calmly in the gloom as he inhaled, and the softest of sighs left him as an exhale, accompanied by a thin cloud of smoke. “I will leave you to your solitude then. I did not mean to intrude upon it.”
Yrliet nodded silently, and he moved to pass her.
“But -”, she yielded after a moment, and his footsteps came to a halt right next to her. Shoulder to shoulder, he waited for what she had to say, even as neither of them turned to look at the other. Her words would only be the softest echo of her truth - as much as she could allow herself. “I do miss the beauty of the Lilaethan, and beholding the life which she nurtured. That much I will concede.”
*
At a later time, the Elantach sought her out once more. It had been many cycles.
The sweet smell of herbal smoke heralded his arrival, as it ever did when he came to speak to her on the bridge. She had grown fond of the smell, for it announced to her the only being with whom conversing had become bearable. The only one who has shown respect for her space, and her voice, and her boundaries. The only one who willingly heard her out, and the only one who did not spurn her in those rare times she tried to allow a connection.
She had already stayed aboard his ship for longer than she had planned - but their search for her kin ended only in grief and loss. This had become the only path she still knew to walk. And so, she had endeavored to show kindness to her unlikely new companions, only for it to be spat on at every turn. The only other mon'keigh who had tried to approach her - the mere thought of her unwanted touch, of her violation, still filled her with the deepest disgust, even after all this time.
And thus, she had kept to her own - except for when he sought her out.
“Elantach,” she greeted as she turned to him, and he nodded in response.
“I would like to show you something, if you have a moment?”
Yrliet’s brow lifted in mild surprise. Surely, it would not pertain to her kin - else there would be more urgency in the way he carried himself. But what else could he possibly have to share with her?
“Of course, Elantach. What is this about?”
“You will see soon enough.” He waved for her to follow, and so she had little recourse but to comply.
She followed him through the decorated corridors of the upper decks. Together they walked in complete silence, until he came to a halt in front of an assuming door.
The Elantach cleared his throat, and folded his hands behind his back in an almost solemn manner. His gaze was fixed on her, as if in anticipation. “You may open it, if you like.”
She cast him a curious glance. “You are not behaving your usual self. Is aught the matter?”
“It’s simply a surprise, nothing more.”
“You have asked me before, Elantach, and I have already told you - mon'keigh traditions of material gift-giving are clumsy and primitive, and unlikely to make my soul sing. I hope you have not wasted your time on a needless endeavour, on my account.”
He responded in a quiet, suppressed sigh and shifted his weight in poorly-concealed impatience. Pointedly, he urged: “Open the door, please.”
In equal parts hesitation and curiosity, Yrliet made the lifeless plasteel yield to her - and when it revealed the sights beyond it, her breath hitched, for just a moment.
She stepped into a scene that nigh made you forget you were aboard a mon'keigh ship. Everything, from the floor to the walls, was carefully covered to resemble the environs of a planet - even the ceilings mimicked the soft, natural light of a real sky, although the illusion was imperfect for nothing could hide the low hums of the artificial. It still filtered through the leaves and danced as a serene glow across the floor.
And the large space was filled with colors - carefully arranged to mirror a natural distribution as closely as possible, a multitude of strange and beautiful flora created a jungle of its own.
Like stepping into another world, the air itself seemed to have shifted: humid, and warm, and so much lighter and clearer than it had been outside of these walls. It was thinner than planetary atmosphere - and it seemed to carry a faint smell of ozone, but it was far overshadowed by pleasant floral scents of the life that surrounded her, mixing into a bouquet of freshness, far more potent than the bitter bite of promethium. She could even hear the faint dripping of water, as condensation beaded on the walls and fell like tears. Somewhere in the distance, there seemed to be the calm murmur of a fountain - or perhaps it was a pond?
Even the quiet buzzing of insects filled the air - small, black dots flitting back and forth from the large leaves, to vanish once again behind another.
It was nothing like the Lileathan. It was nothing like Crudarach, either. There was no psychic presence; the plants did not sing to her, for they had no hum. There was no breathing of wraithbone. It was too orderly to be natural, too perfectly spaced. The growth was evidently still young - it knew not its history. And the air was eerily still. She missed Crudarach’s soft breeze, and the way it would dance through the loose strands of her hair.
And still - it was beautiful, beyond anything she had expected to find aboard a vessel like this. Her appreciation for all that it was felt just as heavy as her grief over all that it was not.
It was small, and imperfect, and it was still a haven of life within this bird of metal. And a part of her could not help but feel pleased - for she was amongst the stars once more, atop a moving world, surrounded by life. Even a mere echo of Crudarach was still an echo of her home.
Moving through it, the familiar sound of dirt and stone and soil crunching underneath their soles accompanied their steps. Stray leaves softly brushed against her in a loving caress. The Elantach followed closely behind her, as she took it all in.
“What do you think of it?” He carefully probed, the first to break the silence.
“What is the meaning of this, Elantach?”
“It’s an Arboretum.” Yrliet threw him a glance over her shoulder, to find him still carefully observing her reaction. “I wished to show it to you much sooner, but it took quite a while to put it all together.”
“And you did this… for me?”
A strange feeling had settled in her chest - a strange, warm pressure that fluttered through her lungs like the soft flight of a butterfly, and that coiled around her heart in a gentle embrace.
“Does it please you?”
There was an indiscernible glimmer in his eyes. Her hands settled atop the Waystone on her chest - to ground her once more, and reel in this soft sensation that tried to overcome her out of nowhere.
She knew she remained silent for far too long.
“I know it’s - imperfect, when compared to a real biosystem. I know you’re used to more impressive sights… But still, I think it turned out quite quaint.”
“I’m unsure what to say.” She could not fully keep her voice from betraying her true feelings, even as she tried to will her words to show neutrality. “Your servants performed admirably in nurturing this space, though you needn’t have waylaid all this life from its home on my account.”
“The plants were all raised from seeds, not uprooted, don’t you worry.” He spoke far more softly than she was used to, from him. “And in that case, I did it for myself - the ship was in dire need of a natural touch. Still, it’s a good place to find solitude, if one so wishes, don’t you think?”
She allowed herself a small smile. “That, it is.”
There was an immediate shift in him, as if a veiled tension had left him. With deep satisfaction, he nodded.
“If you like, I will leave you to explore it.”
There was a quiet desire at the back of her mind, then. One that was entirely inappropriate - one that had been plaguing her for a while, ever since he had spoken these words to her.
I hope that one day I will come to know you.
Ever since he had voiced his own desire - to understand her. Ever since it has opened her eyes to the soft glow of his soul, so much more radiant than that of a common mon'keigh. She had not been able to unsee it since.
And on that day, my own world will become much deeper.
And ever since then, a small seed had planted itself at the back of her mind - that perhaps, she wanted to learn to understand him too. And perhaps, if his mind was strong, and his soul was deep - perhaps one day she could fully see it.
The thought had crept up on her, more than once. This nagging question if it would truly be possible. To see the soul of a mon'keigh, to see his inner world in Introspection, as you would that of a Child of Asuryan… It would most certainly not be possible, but a part of her could not help but wonder if perhaps, if they were to try…
She banished this desire, this longing to invite him to join her in meditation, even as the curiosity would not truly leave her. It was improper, and it was wrong, and it was - it was way too soon.
And so, forcing her mind to turn from desire and return to composure once more, she gratefully nodded in response instead. “Thank you, Elantach. I shall endeavour to treasure this place, and share in its serenity.”
And the Elantach nodded, taking a step back. Though he did not fully turn from her - not yet. Instead, he seemed to be contemplating.
“And Yrliet,” he finally began to speak after a brief moment, though there was an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice. “If you ever want… I mean, if anything else can be done to make this ship more comfortable, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”
Silently, Yrliet nodded.