Gathered the Ingredients

I think though that Caine would have a lot of complicated feeling about abstractions. He blames himself for them. They are neon-eyed amalgamations of death, testaments to his failures.

But one must imagine Caine peaceful, too.

One must imagine Caine working on managing his emotions. Not masking, not mirroring, but sometimes being included and being around others just gets to be Too Much. The height and limbs and spikes about his shoulders are not signs of aggression or agitation. As Ragatha put it, "you've just got some big feelings."

Caine is embarrassed, of course. He knows his lovely humans, beautiful humans, they accept him. But. Reckoning with accepting himself is hard. He tends to hide when his "Big Feelings" come out.

And, yes, one day he goes downstairs. Sometimes overstimulation necessitates darkness. Though the architecture has changed the cellar is still dark. Without thinking too far ahead Caine clips himself through the glass and into the digital waters.

For a moment, his long limbs flail helplessly. He sinks. Then, something, a solid form, gently presses against his back, nudging him back up. Though it cannot speak Caine can still hear something in the static.

"Easy, little bee."

Her voice is so soft and light but Caine's mind clings to it like a life preserver. He calms down and moves his long limbs with more grace. Swimming. He turns to face Queenie. Or, what was once Queenie. She- it- swims in languid circles before him, dozens of eyes darting all over his changed form. The abstraction's graceful motions falter a fraction of a second.

"I suppose I mean, Big bee."