Drown In Black

The whispers were back. Out of the corner of her mind, they grew like mould, unceasingly usurping larger and larger part of her perception. They didn't grow louder, but she was closer and closer to understanding, to deciphering the message, the unending barrage of words that bound her to the Qyrora. That these beings exerted upon their surroundings. That brought insanity and clouded mind to those who heard it.

But not to her, it seemed. To her, it was already familiar, a hum in the back, a background she wouldn't notice if not for her interest in it. It didn't limit her mind, instead, she trained it to encompass these whispers as well, both to zone them out and to analyze them. They were always there, she had no need of them all that time, though. She would have to ask Orineth about it at some point.

She wondered, what else in the immediate future would she find almost mundane, a normal part of her life. She was aware that many of those things should horrify her, but she was either numb to them, or has already accepted some parts of the Qyrorian perspective. Which of the two, she didn't know.

Though, since she had accepted the Tarika's offer, did it even matter?

No. That was not her. She had gotten this far. Her being alive now was already miraculous enough so that Sanja did not want to give up. But also - staying herself had once again proven paramount to her. Sure, changing was par for course, no one stayed the same throughout their entire life. Neither would she - especially now. But if she were able to retain more of herself, she would. She had went through something similar once. Having to remake herself, understand a completely different person than she thought she knew. Was this a re-enactment, or not? It was a different change - and, as she was promised, one that included the grandest prize - not the same one. But was there much of a difference? There was no going back, once she would finish. And this time, she couldn't hide it. To the entire world, she was still the same person, before she realized who she was. She still seemed like a man, and she hated it passionately. But now, she was given a way out. Losing humanity? That was a price she was willing to pay. ... At least when she said yes. Backtracking now would be pointless. Instead, she had set on a course to throw away all of her past, and honestly, she would do so gladly. There weren't happy memories. No one to go back to. And those that knew her a bit better were other soldiers of the expeditionary force. Who were dead. She could almost imagine what would some officer in shiny uniform and with a groomed moustache say - that she was betraying their memory, becoming a traitor, and so on and so on. She would scoff at that any day. Her current situation had nothing to do with it. Those people had no idea about the soldier's life. Knew nothing about the place they sent her and her comrades-in-arms to. And, further in the past, drafted her into their blasted army. She owed them nothing. At best a revenge, she noted with a smirk. That was something that would probably at some point happen. That part, she would enact gladly.

...I seem to have more questions than before, stated Orineth, its form obscured in a fog. Since it was moving with the Tarika's movement, the mist was probably emitted by it, but Sanja couldn't be sure. And the fact, that it had the same bluish hue as the gas that descended upon her and the other soldiers, definitely did not assuage her fears. It was another in the series of changes to her captor... though now, she would reluctantly even call Orineth an acquaintance, maybe even an ally. She was curious what was going on with the Tarika. She knew its form was connected to the role it served in the Qyrora hierarchy, but not much more - the one that tried to take her away had a different shape, and probably even abilities, but could she really infer from just two instances?

...I realize an interfacing with a different species' thoughts is nonstandard. Yet I still deem it was necessary. The uncertainties seem like the resulting price.

It was strange to hear Orineth monologuing. As Sanja warily observed the fog, she allowed herself  a bit of a smile. The strange being seemed as baffled by the events as her.

...It seems so ineffective... Yet there are other things to gain. Is the element manipulation a part of it? Or is it a separate occurrence?... Is her mind a typical exemplar of her species? Her will stands stronger though. What causes the difference?...

That was already too much mumbling for her. One thing would be, if Orineth did its figurative pacing somewhere else. But it chose to do this weird introspection or analysis in front of her, making it her problem as well.

"You wanted to ask questions before. What holds you back?"

The Qyroran lieutenant turned its eyes to her. The room went silent, as it ceased its talk, leaving only the ambient whisper and the slow drip of the ichor from the walls.

You have heard me? finally came out of Orineth.

"I shouldn't have?" came Sanja's surprised reply.

I have not been intent on communicating with you now. You seem to be more attuned to this form of communication now.

"I somehow hate how apathetic to this new information I am. ... Anyways, you wanted to ask questions. Go on. They have something to do with what you've seen in my mind?"

Indeed. ... I have also learned trying to get into someone's mind is not regarded as polite.

"That's very mildly put. You're lucky I let you do it this time. Any other instance was definitely not welcome."

...I am sorry...?

That was a first. That was certainly a first.

"Now I'm intrigued. You wouldn't have thought about apologizing before. What's going on?"

... I do not know precisely. I speculate it is related to my general interaction with you. Probably trying to interact with you more easily.

"So we'll meet halfway. You with an understanding of humanity, and I, changed by the Qyrora. ... Now. Ask your questions," added Sanja, shaking her head. This was starting to be absurd. The first moment she gazed upon Orineth, it seemed like the darkest horror, like the harbinger of her end. But now? The Tarika had gone from a nightmare, into her captor, then interrogator, then an accomplice... what would come next? Friends?

Then, first. What is the ability you call magic? There is no obvious relation to something inside your bodies. And I have found no satisfactory answer in your mind.

"Since there is no good answer. At least we don't know it... yet. Honestly, I thought what you've shown is some other form of magic. Is it not?"

I am not one of our scholars, so it is not my place to explain. But we do have an understanding of what you viewed as magic. Whereas yours does not seem well understood.

"No, it is not. I know what I have to do to use it. And I've been a part of an institute dedicated to research of magic. But there is still much to learn about the fundamentals. And while I would like to, it seems mostly futile."

It might not be. There is new knowledge being gained even now. You have also done something no one could have predicted. You were able to control something else than water, even when your memories show you should not have been able to.

"You mean the ichor?" Sanja asked, remembering the moment not so long ago... Was it really such a short time? It seemed like it was ages. Before Orineth reminded her, it had almost disappeared into the passages of time.

Ichor? ... It is a reasonable name. ... Yes, I am talking about that.

"I was also surprised. But in that moment, I wanted to. Why it worked, I don't know. Maybe because I've been here for some time now? But it did. And I guess I would be able to do it even now. Similarly to how before I could sense the presence of water, now, if I focus, I can sense the ichor as well."

Is the change natural then? Is it the result of your treatment? There is a lot to learn.

"You really have nothing similar? ...I mean, there has to be some sort of reproduction, no?" Sanja asked, while massaging the slowly changing stump at the end of her arm. The black form had grown, both ways. Now it reached halfway to her elbow, as if painted the colour of midnight, uniform and sleek, with no hint of the texture she associated with human skin. The other end still had no distinct shape, but she still hoped it would end as a hand - or at least similar to it. She did not see any other changes - or if there were some, they were either tiny, or not recognizable. But it was not her who had changed a lot. Orineth was distinctly different, again. The fog was still there, but clinging to a wholly different body. It still wasn't corporeal, that would surprise Sanja much more, she realized when she thought about it. But it still was unfamiliar. Where once was an indescribable shape formed of darkness and shadow, anchored to reality by tendrils of the same material, stood a vaguely humanoid form, about a head taller than Sanja. It was still formed by the same black nothingness, but it no longer seemed to her, as if it was trying to swallow both the light around, and herself as well. The chill that settled in the back of her mind the moment she first saw Orineth had also disappeared. The Qyroran was quick to break the illusion that it had given up on the - as it said - advantages of an amorphous form. It still used the tendrils, now appearing from different parts of its body, whenever Orineth needed them. At least it gave up their use from the facsimile of the head.

Our numbers grow by each place we conquer. And using the same method humans have is inefficient. There is no way to control the resulting product. It is better to form it without this uncertainty.

"Yet you repurpose other beings for your use. Or to become Qyroran, if you will. ... Damn, this came out weird."

It is easier and less taxing than exhausting resources for the creation of a original Qyroran. There are only five or six of us here. Of all the thousands in this army.

"So you are what your race originally was like?" asked Sanja, promptly forgetting her previous concern.

Indeed. But each of us is different. And, as you have noticed, since we change form based upon circumstances, none of us is a proper representative.

"That in itself is fine," she shrugged, "There are differences between individuals. That, I consider normal. And if in a different species, the difference is larger, all the way to a different shape, who am I to disprove that. So in that sense, you are a standard Qyroran."

Well, thank you. ... And similarly to how you find it strange we do not reproduce like you do, I consider your system weird as well. You have two sexes... which aren't the same as who you consider yourself to be, and require both to create offspring. What if only one is present? What then?

"Firstly, it mostly overlaps. That in some cases it does not, is an exception, another of those differences between individuals. By learning who I am, I had also found another facet of my identity. That is all there is to it. ... And as for your second statement, I'm sure you can arrive at your own, correct, answer."

Hmm... this entire topic of gender is strange. I have learned a lot, both by talking to you, and by seeing your thoughts. And since I have given you my offer, through accomplishing that as well. It has never occurred to me that such a choice was possible - to even have this kind of internal sense of self. And yet you used it to keep your sense of self.

"If it's so intriguing, I can talk about it with you more... More like, I would be glad to. Since you became interested, I realized how much I craved something like that. To talk about it."

That... would be nice.

It is said that first impressions are the most important. Sanja had heard that too. But now she was left to wonder, how fast could those first impressions change. If there was some reasonable way to estimate that time.

And for numerous reasons. First of which was this place. Followed right after by her captor. Both were, objectively speaking, very terrifying experiences. And she knew she had been queasy about this place for the entirety of her stay. There was almost nothing familiar, in relation to her previous life. But now, now she knew it very well. Throughout the time she had spent here, she had mapped every single interesting thing here. Every place the ichor oozed through, every seam of the metallic walls, every reflection of the sparse light that came here... Which, as she realized, had been entirely sufficient for quite a while. She still remembered sunlight, no issues there, but still... there was some sort of habit already, in being in this dim light, mostly shrouded in darkness.

And it was this darkness, and all the other sensations, that were slowly, quietly, eating at her, becoming both familiar and discomforting. But was this quietness - sans the ambience - as a source sufficient? Was her mind really the victim of this? Was she more resistant to it, or actually less? Would someone else fare the same? She knew she had spent ages on her own, so this place was not that much dissimilar. But at the same time, there was a lack of stimuli. Of books, she had spent whole days at a time buried in. Of magic research, or, as much as she disliked it, the military service in the past few years. The only one she got was the irregular presence of Orineth. This being had become her only source of interaction, the only change in this dour place - even if she no longer considered it dour. Dark, maybe, but there was not a strong negative emotion she would notice connected to this place. It seemed... normal. As normal as talking with a monstrosity built out of shadows and ichor, with no mouth, just a pair of eyes. Talking with something... someone... telepathically. And actually talking, not being subjected to some sort of interrogation - which was what she would expect out of being captured. Also, it was no longer a monster to her, she realized. A strange being, sure, but that first impression had disappeared, or at least been suppressed. And it was willing to talk, to learn, even, and she was willing to indulge this.

And now the talk had shifted once again, to maybe an even more impossible topic. Ever since Orineth saw her memories - or at least some part of them, Sanja was still not sure how much the Qyroran saw - it had been coming with questions about some, to it incomprehensible, realities of her life. She was able to expect those, since it was so obvious how different they were, but it still could baffle her, which topics the Tarika chose. Be it the starting topics of magic, government, even human biology, or the weirder ones - the need for clothing, the way sound is formed by the vocal tract, or the reason for hair, citing it inefficient and redundant. Sanja was able to explain a bit, stated her opinion, but that was all she was able to. And in return, she was given doubts. Doubts about the meaning of it all. Were the social norms she knew all her life, that she took for granted, really so important? Infallible? Or even required at all? Or was it a prison? Shackles that had bound humanity ages ago, and never let go? But still, it was her culture, and even if it was only because she was accustomed to it, she would uphold it still. She knew why, at least with some of those. Shame was one thing, but even beyond that, she used some of these norms as a source of strength, or hope. And even if cutting them off could be the wiser choice - maybe, she definitely wasn't sure - upholding them was, for now, in her best interest.

Burying the dead? There was no one to bury. And those that died around her had been... repurposed. Treachery? She had alibi. And a reason for revenge. And of course, the greatest bait dangling right here. Social life? She was no noble, and she had been avoiding any parties like the plague. Friends? Had she ever some? If there was someone she could call like that, they were too far gone, or dead. And the only other person she could maybe, someday, call that, was right here, in front of her. As horrifying as that would sound to her some time ago. And this person was once again challenging her views with her questions.

So you form permanent pair for your reproduction? ... And at the same time, you are telling me there are no children out of many of these?

"I know what you want to ask next, so don't bother," Sanja replied, "While maybe it would be better for reproduction - for its own sake - for marriage to not work like that, or even exist, that is not its supposed purpose... Well, it is, but only one of them. Also, there exist cultures, where it is not pairs, but several people... well, men with several wives."¨

And the other purpose? While I can guess the words, they still do not give me the answers, meaning, I require for understanding.

Sanja shrugged: "There is not much help for that. Love is too abstract a notion. I can rattle off several explanations. Mutual attraction, soulmates, the spice of life, the truest feeling of them all, the reason to live, the thing that toppled empires, caring about someone even beyond caring for yourself... There are many. But neither of those is an explanation. Just someone trying to shed some light on their experience. All I can do is tell stories, and maybe, one day, you will understand the feeling. Maybe when you fall in love, if it's possible, maybe never. Who knows... It has one other description: the feeling that makes humans... human."

Sanja smirked: "Maybe this is the final destination for you to reach. To understand humans, I mean. ... And in-between, we can tell each other stories. You wanted to learn more about history, same as I want to know more about yours. We can add romance to the list... even if I'm in no way a good storyteller, or an expert on this topic. More like the complete opposite."

Yet you are here, and willing to talk. I shall take up your offer. ... Before you are finished changing, talking is all we can do, after all.