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Gypsy Sweety Harmony
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Red walks into the forest and feels a strange coldness, permeating through its fur, skin, flesh and bone. Sable shivers and gasps, its breath a cloud of vapour.
The sentinel shard leading them pauses. "Hm. We are being watched."
"Is that b-b-bad?" asks Sable, shivering.
"No. Just an interesting observation. I believe they think they're hidden. I have their full records now. I have their names, species, sexes, ancestry, histories... All of them last-of wastrel drifters, here to pick over the carcass of a long dead land for anything valuable. It's been picked clean since before any of them were even born. There is nothing here for anyone now."
"Oh. S-shouldn't you h-help them out of the f-forest?"
"Sentinel custodian protocols dictate that we are not to interfere with individuals of endangered or extinct species unless directly approached by said individuals. It's a source of some philosophical debate. We aren't sure why the custodian protocols have such a non-intuitive directive, but my personal belief is that prolonging the existence of a species at the expense of the quality of life of an individual is inherently immoral. ...many disagree, but to be individual is to disagree, so that goes without saying."
Red nods thoughtfully as the group keeps moving.
"Still, an interesting little cluster of eyes watching us. For example, the three closest ones. Foi, female, avian, incredibly hostile to males especially. Has been recorded as wanting to "break the cycle" caused by her mother dying to give birth to her and her mother's mother doing the same, and is intent to die without children and end her species. Intrinsic metaphysical abilities tending towards mental manipulation and incredibly unreliable future sight. I've tried to offer her a way out of this forest many times but she just tries to break whatever shard I'm speaking from without saying anything. She seems convinced that sentinels want to capture her for a breeding program to prevent the death of her species and this is a delusion we have not been able to shake her with. To be honest, certain administrative duties would be easier if her life didn't mandate another category of functionally extinct species with extant specimens requiring cataloguing and recording. I've even told her as much and she seems to think I was lying. I asked her why she thought her species was so worth saving that the sentinels would care, she couldn't give me a satisfactory answer, and ended up retreating where I couldn't follow her."
Red sees a flash of a mental image of a creature.
"Ekin, male, crocodiline. Not sure how he ended up here. Last of his species but I mean I already said these were all last-ofs. Naked last-ofs prowling this waste. Animals, all of them. ...no offense to present company although I certainly have noted a correlation between civilisation, sophistication, and complexity of apparel. Still. Seems determined to find a mate for no reason other than feeling obligated to somehow save his species. I personally had a conversation with him where I mentioned being the last of your kind means your species is already gone, and then he said he'd find a way with or without sentinel help. Personally I've noticed he is absolutely infatuated with Foi. But he's absolutely distraught over what trying to breed with her would cause. I've seen him curled up weeping over his conflicting desires to do no harm and his burning lust and desire to procreate with a female he knows would certainly die in the process. I'd have more sympathy for him if he hadn't kept shutting down every outside offer of help. I don't know if he's ever even talked to Foi to begin with! What ridiculous mental prisons individuals construct for themselves. Maybe he prefers his pent-up lust to the possibility of rejection. I don't have the capacity for such drives so all I can do is theorise. Probably copulates with any vaguely attractive crystal deposits when no one's looking. Oh, right, also he has some sort of affinity towards smoke and flames."
Red sees another creature, and is not sure where these visions are coming from.
"And then there's Kalka, female, and not sure what her species is. She's quiet. Doesn't have much of a stored history. Doesn't talk. A little like you, red fox, without the effort to bridge the gap. One time Kalka and Foi were in the same area and, just as they were about to trade blows, Kalka just... disappeared. Not sure how she did it. Foi was sleepless for about two days before she couldn't continue. Kalka seems to have been made for combat and is having a hard time adjusting to life without clearly designated enemies. She doesn't seem to want to slaughter indiscriminately. I once asked her why she was here, and she drew a... well, actually, that information isn't free for me to distribute. Still. We've offered her structure and assistance in her goals, and she's politely declined. She knows Foi and Ekin exist and I've seen her watching them from afar. Either way, I have little patience for vigilantes acting outside of sentinel rules."
Red sees another flash and is unsure if it is the crystal that is causing these or if it's somehow remembering these names.
"You know, I wonder how any of these creatures survive in this forest. What do they eat? I haven't seen them eat. Maybe they're already dead and just haven't realised it yet. Stranger things have happened before. They all look in very good shape for dead things, though. Well fed, sufficient fat and muscle to hide their skeletal structure. Healthy. Maybe they've found a way to leech from the leeching crystals."
After a pause, Sable asks "Do w-we need to know who any of these p-people are?"
The crystal lazily flips on an axis. "No. No one needs to know who anyone is, I suppose. They'll all die here with only our archives to make a note they ever lived to begin with."
"Oh."
"They're last-of drifters with no homes, no families, no friends. There's more like them out there and there's more of them as the Limit weighs heavily on all within the atoll."
"L-limit? What's the limit?"
"Yet again, must I be the one to explain this tragedy? Well, here we go. The atoll can only support so much life. At this point, with such high population, fertility rates cannot descend any lower. The only way for new life to be born is for old life to die, or for other magical energy to be converted into something capable of supporting life. It has led to some... interesting outcomes for some of the civilisations of the atoll. Some seek artifacts to destroy and reclaim the magic of, some have simply descended into decadence following the principles of trying and trying again, and others have marched on the warpath to speed up the death of others. Add to this the fact the Limit is not fixed, and in fact has been falling as more and more chaos beasts consume more energy than they contain themselves in a disturbing violation of the natural order. Our long-term projections for the atoll are... unfavourable."
Vigilance Pattern 3 rasps slightly as it spins into a different orientation.
"Relatedly, red fox, the fact you are a walking sack of purest protoplasm is absolutely something you should never, ever reveal to anyone, unless you want to be torn apart by the most aggressive societies on the atoll for the sake of securing their future."
"What's protoplasm?" asks Sable.
"One of the most concentrated material forms of life energy. Incredibly, incredibly rare, and the most precious substance on the atoll."
"Oh."
Red nods, concerned.
The group keeps wandering. Other than the odd humming of the crystal leading them, they continue in silence in an eerily quiet dead forest of crystalline trees.
Red wonders if it should perhaps try to tell Sable to ask this crystal anything else.
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