glimpse the unknown for a moment...

They have not spoken a word since reaching the mausoleum, nor since Kusayla's men had finally revealed to Dehya everything she had wanted to know about her father's demise and true intent. Al-Haitham's gaze scans around the burnt down records room - stacks of papers charred from a fire long extinguished, transcripts, records, names. Thousands of pages worth of them. Using writing as shackles to keep the wards of Deshret's Relics under their thumb (what would the Scarlet King make of such a use of his own name, the scribe wonders, pushing a half-cremated records book with the tip of his boot?). What foolish and ridiculous power move. Perhaps they should inform Lord Kusanali when they return to the city. Perhaps...

A movement at the corner of his eye snaps him from his thoughts and his eyes from the scattered mess of burnt records and shelves. Dehya stands there, seemingly absorbed in her thoughts. Of course she would be. This... cannot be what she had expected or hoped to find when they had set out on this endeavour, could it.

       She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to feel. It had been one thing to discover that there was a greater evil lurking behind Dakan Al-Ahmar, and to direct her anger into aiding in the brigade's quest for revenge, avenging her father... and quite another to be stood in what remained of the headquarters of Deshret's Relics, the deed done. The blood on her hands of a group who had cursed so much misery, inflicted so much pain on those in the desert unlucky enough to land in their clutches.

       Did that make her no better than them? Perhaps. Did it make her feel better to know that she had wiped one more ruthless, desperate desert group off the face of the map? Yes, even though she knew there were plenty of others. Such was the harsh, unforgiving way of the desert. Maligned by the Akademiya, undisturbed by the Matra. All that mattered out here was survival at any cost, even when that meant committing unforgiveable acts to gain the edge over others fighting for the same scraps.

       From somewhere, Dehya was aware of Al-Haitham approached, could hear his voice musing over what they'd found. Yet the words themselves didn't quite reach her, eyes wandering to the charred remains of paper on the ground around them, imagining what it looked like that night Kusayla had set this place ablaze.

       A final heroic act for a less than heroic man.

"Penacony has taught me a thing or two about legacy. What they've left behind and want to have represented, and no doubt, trusting that hands like mine, yours, March and Dan Heng's will have all the tools to do more than just carry that weight."

What she'd find at the touch of her palm would be a vibrant heart awaiting her, as if sharing a pulsation to welcome her for reaching so close. It was the sort of warmth that prompted the romanticism of sunlight, less of a searing, merciless star but more of a gentle summer day whenever she's involved in the equation of just the two of them. He didn't have a chance to dwell on either that or his idea for long, for the newest morsel of intel had prompted his eyes to light up in a heartbeat.

Those guys. Caelus' smile was all goddamn teeth, nice and bright due to seeing exactly what this meant.

"C'mon, just cause March thinks we're that tied to the hip?" It hardly be a second after Caelus shares that in the same span of time, down to the hour and seconds of time that his phone received the same message.

"Even without being a Nameless, you've long since been one of us much as we tussled through all this rough stuff. We never had a chance to really celebrate a bit with you since taking down Irontomb, with ya being out of order for a bit." Thinking about what's to come made his expression soften, it tempted him to talk on softer matters.. but first thing's first. You can not elicit a genius' curiosity and just leave that as a 'check it out' later type of matter.

"Ever considered that you're fun to be around?"

A gentle sigh escapes while the nature of Elation begins to gradually coalesce within. A clear memory of the Phantasmoon's light, of the emotion that his will naturally woven from the stream of the collective unconscious settled in a realm of Aha's, that in itself made a reverberating pulse thump heavily within his chest as he takes a step back. A gloved hand finds itself situated upon the growing scintillation at his scarred chest, oh, he was daring to actually do this.

"Here."

The surrounding lighting dimmed due to the spatial effect of just being around the World Cancer, yet, the innate violence that wept and roared within it was strangely absent as the chaotic star found itself partially removed from his chest. However, there was a starling difference to be discovered as with a willful tug of the fingertips, the Stellaron would ease from him entirely, safely connected by tethers of Wishpower.. no, aspects of the Primum Mobile itself as excitable gleam sets within the Nameless' eye.

Instead, what situates in its presence could actually be considered calming, as if the tender nature of the human heart manifested in this flickering moment as a vibrant fire underneath the banner of Caelus.

"Looks like the matter of polarities may just be a thing with this part of my soul now. All the contamination, the agonies, all of that safe within. How about you hold it now and see what you can feel?"

       Ever considered that you're fun to be around?

       Herta's brow arched and disappeared straight up and into the curtain of her bangs. “ That's not the word I would use. ” Blunt. Sharp. Self-absorbed. Accomplished. Relentless. Those were some of the more accurate descriptors she would ascribe to herself, beyond intelligent and beautiful and peerless of course.

       Sure, she could list a number of times that she and Caelus had had fun together. Their adventures within the Simulated Universe, and more frequently now that they had chosen to share their lives and histories and futures with one another. But would the Astral Express really have described her like that? In recent years, she was a benefactor to the crew, and had always been a supporter of their work and legacy across the cosmos. But she had rarely socialised with them beyond the trade of resources and information, and the advent of universe-ending calamities.

       The idea that they had wanted her to celebrate the Irontomb victory alongside them, and would have invited her had she not been confined to an IPC hospital ship in the aftermath...

       Something warm and fond settled in the pit of her stomach at the thought. Something to think about and ponder over later, especially as her attention was drawn back to him by his stepping back from her, and the sudden prickling of Path energy in the air around them.

       Herta couldn't recognise the specific Path immediately, but it didn't take a genius to guess given where they were, and how the presence of any Aeon in close proximity to her beloved would seemingly coax THEIR gaze. But a frown soon drew across her features as he reached specifically for his chest, letting the light grow around him and snuff out the daylight streaming in through the windows.

       It took a moment for the realisation of what he was doing to hit but, once it did, Herta's mouth fell open, scarcely daring to believe what her eyes were watching.

       Her eyes flitted from Caelus' face to the pulsing Stellaron in his hands and back again. She did that twice before deigning to speak. “ Did you just— ” Herta blinked again. “ —pull it out of your chest like it was nothing? ”

       The Elation had enabled him to do this?

       Herta laughed. It was the only thing she could do, the only thing that made sense. “ You're completely insane. ” Coming from a member of the Genius Society that was truly no insult at all. She immediately stepped forward to take him up on his offer. Holding an actual Stellaron? The same Stellaron that she had taken great pains and resources to seal and prevent from destroying her home planet? How could she in good conscience refuse that?

       Herta slowly held out her hands, unsure exactly of how she was going to hold this thing, but Caelus soon guided it into her grasp. The first thing she felt radiating from it was a familiar surge of Imaginary energy. It reminded her of the first time she had laid eyes on it: this living, breathing construct able to alter reality itself and reshape entire worlds. Absent though was that voice, the one that aims to tempt and whisper promises in its target's ear, promising rebirth but enacting Destruction.

"Well lets see."

"She stinks and smells of arrogance. She'll be a big cheater, and have Grandma mood swings. Way too into selfcest, with how many puppets of herself, which has the same face, and voice of herself for that matter. Any more flaws you can name hm?"