Elysium Fights a Gamite
Tonight, the laboratory is quiet, bar the humming of instruments and the clatter of Thalhassa’s fingers flying over the keys of her workstation computer. Her dogged research finally bears fruit, after nearly six nights straight of frenzied networking, and the diligent indexing of new information. She feels some shame about using Ilunn like this, taking advantage of the fact that Ilunn’s only window to her world is through her homemade intergalactic terminal; she imagines that if Sovereign could reach Ilunn, he would be demanding to know where Thalhassa was, warning the gentle giant of what happened.
Of course, a few months ago, Thalhassa would have wanted exactly that. In fact, her first few weeks in Elysium’s mountain lair were spent wishing feverishly that she had made spare terminals, and distributed them to her allies, instead of hoarding the technology like the vain daiten she was. When she first arrived, it was not by choice. Now, however, things were different, and ironically Thalhassa spent her spare moments hoping that Sovereign would never find this place. The work they were doing here was too important.
Elysium appears beside her, as silent as ever, carrying a tray of food and wearing a frown which Thalhassa has come to understand as a sign of worry. “Eat. Your work fails if you starve to death.”
Both amused and touched by the gesture, Thalhassa takes the tray, and places it on the countertop beside her station. “You know we don’t actually have to eat, right? It’s more of a thing you do for fun.”
Seemingly without irony, Elysium retorts, “fun is as necessary as anything else. You can starve for entertainment, for comfort, for companionship. There are many ways to suffer deprivation.” She snorts, turning back to the door, apparently unwilling to hold the conversation for longer than necessary. “Eat. Now.”
“Okay…” Thalhassa calls after, even as the heavy door shuts with a harsh clang. If someone told her a year ago that Elysium would be so thoughtful and considerate, she certainly would not believe it. The way Sovereign painted the picture, corrupted daitens were monsters that needed to be destroyed, that they were incapable of true goodness, and in particular those who turned their backs on cleansing their corruption were to be feared without exception.
Elysium isn’t at all what he said she was. Not for the first time, Thalhassa feels a small pang of anger. She trusted him and his word for so long, never questioning his judgement or his motives, even as Emperius defended her fiercely with his words and heart. She’s kind. She’s trying to help someone, she just… doesn’t have anyone to rely on. Thalhassa tilts her head back to look at the dark ceiling above. Too bad I’m taking advantage of her, too.
A shuffling sound from the lab’s storage room catches her attention. Rats again? Thalhassa rises from her seat with a huff, thinking back on the past week of fighting the unwanted infestation. “I keep trying to tell you vermin, you do not want to be my lab rats,” Thalhassa announces as she throws open the storage room door, flicking on the light at the same time to reveal the rodents’ presence.
What she finds is not altogether unlike a rat, but its size is at least six times that of even an extra large rat, and its skin is a patchwork of fur and chitin. It rounds on her, all twenty of its naked writhing tails curling and knotting in agitation at her appearance. This is no rat, Thalhassa instantly realizes, but beyond this simple thought she has no time to take any other action before it hurls its twisted form upon her.
Thinking fast, Thalhassa first screams, both as a natural reaction, but also in hopes of attracting Elysium’s attention. With that taken care of, her next action is to snatch a broom to defend herself with, using it to swat the creature away, and giving her a chance to scramble over the lab counter, knocking over beakers and sending the glass to shatter on the floor. If none of this racket finds its way to Elsyium’s ears, Thalhassa fears her troubles will only worsen.
“El!” Thalhassa shouts again, chucking stools and other glass instruments at the advancing monster. “What the fuck are you?” This question she directs to it, a question that has been running through her mind since laying eyes on its hideous body.
Unfortunately, the barrage of objects does little to slow the not-rodent’s advance, and all too soon it closes in, pushing her against the opposite wall. When again it throws itself upon her, all she can do is position the broom handle between herself, and the snapping teeth and mandibles, to keep them from ripping her throat out. [to keep its snapping teeth and mandibles from tearing her throat out, positioning the broom handle against its neck to keep them just out of reach.]
“Elysium for fuck’s sake!” For a third time Thalhassa screams her companion’s name; the monster possesses unnatural strength for its small size, and Thalhassa was never very strong herself. The struggle is seconds from ending.
Finally, Elysium appears, roaring and furious. Thalhassa watches as the jaws on the end of her tail clamp on the back of the creature’s neck, and pulls it free from Thalhassa’s body and sends it flying across the room, into one of the counters. Thalhassa affords her one glance, as if to check and make sure she is unharmed, before facing off with the monster.
“Gamite!” Elysium howls, positioning herself between it and Thalhassa. “Foul vermin, how dare you enter this-” her verbal assault cuts short as the gamite jumps from counter to counter, hissing and spitting, ready to attack its new opponent. It leaps at Elysium’s face, but Elysium’s hand moves faster, snatching it by the head before slamming it onto the floor. The tile beneath buckles from the impact. A second later, Elysium descends upon it, mouth wide, teeth bared and the third set of teeth beneath her tongue fully extended. Now, there is blood and gore, black and thick where it spatters across the floor.
When the head rolls away towards her, Thalhassa is sure it is dead, but Elysium does not stop. Another second passes, then another, and another, until she realizes with horror that Elysium won’t stop unless someone stops her, and the only other someone around is Thalhassa.
Thalhassa’s body moves without her fully deciding to do so. In what feels like slow motion, she watches Elysium throw her head back, viscera hanging from the sides of her mouth, preparing to swallow. “No! Elysium, do not eat that! Spit is out RIGHT NOW!”
For just one moment, Elysium freezes, and it is a window enough for Thalhassa to grab Elysium by the arm and pull her off the gruesome remains of the gamite. The interruption goes poorly. Twisting lightning fast, Elysium pushes back on Thalhassa, snatching her hand and pinning her against the side of the counter. Her black eyes seeth with feral madness, their glassy surfaces reflecting a terrified Thalhassa.
She goes no further than this. Nose to know, Elysium holds Thalhassa’s wrist in a vice, until the other’s fingers go numb. Ragged breathing carries the foul stench of blood over Thalhassa’s face, making her eyes sting. Just as she fears she will never see Elysium again, Elysium’s jaws close, her hand releases its hold, and she withdraws, slowly. Then, she begins to shake. Her eyes flood with tears.
“El?” Rubbing her throbbing wrist, still afraid to move, Thalhassa’s voice is weak. If she speaks too loudly, she could set Elysium off again. Or anyway, it is a possibility she will not risk.
Elysium hugs herself, claws digging into her arms until they draw blood. Her lips curl, then straighten, then curl again, and she refuses to meet Thalhassa’s eyes. “I am sorry,” she says at last, hoarse with shock. “I should not have done that.”
Though Thalhassa agrees completely, she will not lecture Elysium when she already understands her mistake completely. She does not need to be told something she already knows. Instead, Thalhassa scoots closer, one inch at a time. “Your arms…” She wants to pull Elysium’s hands away, but the last time Thalhassa touched her, Elysium nearly killed her.
“What do you care?” Elysium shouts, destroying the silence. “Do you not see I deserve it? I deserve to hurt.” She turns away, glaring into the middle distance. “I could have killed you.”
“But you didn’t,” Thalhassa reminds her, firmer this time, “and, I’m not like Sovereign.” She flinches at first when Elysium shoots her a warning glance, but she charges on towards the point. “I’m not gonna hate you for it, and I don’t believe in that kind of punishment.” Sighing, Thalhassa pushes herself up using the counter, and braves a look at the remains of the gamite.
“Do not touch it,” Elysium warns, noting the direction of Thalhassa’s gaze. “It would poison you, too.” With much more difficulty, she too stands, bracing herself against the other counter, still trying to keep her distance from Thalhassa. “I will… handle it. It is my mess, after all. In your space, no less.” Her expression turns to disgust, but whether it is at the thought of cleanup, or directed at herself and her actions, Thalhassa cannot be sure.
My space, Thalhassa reflects on the words. The situation is changing. Their relationship is evolving. If I hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have been attacked. Except, she is not truly certain of this. Perhaps, in fact almost certainly, Elysium blames herself for the appearance of the gamite, but a small doubt lingers in the back of Thalhassa’s mind. Though her only real experience with gamites was years ago, this close call reminds her of what little she knows about them, that they appear in the presence of a daiten’s anger, or violence, or general negativity. The kinds of thoughts and feelings that can harm others, or harm oneself. That small shred of doubt says, what if it was your fault?
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