#sideinteractions

“Call it what you want, it’s only natural. After all, you are also separated from your other half.” She snorted. “Shameful.”

Her fires burned, steaming the surface of the water so the room began to sag with humidity. She was being irrational, but alas, it was hard to look the embodiment of idealism in the face and not instantly want to kill it.

No matter how impossible it was. It would never be satisfying. This wasn’t Anubis. This wasn’t her Zekrom.

“If I didn’t personify everything that you lack, I’d call you a liar,” Maat said, shifting on her foot. “Zekrom don’t usually build things outside of minuscule unstable societies, and empires that eventually crumble under the slightest bit of pressure. War is so like you. Did you build toys for your little city? How cute.”

“You seek out some and leave the rest to chance.”

“You reek of mortal morality.”

“You didn’t ask for this?”

“Nobody ever asks to be born. They are made by whoever wills them into this world regardless of what that does to the universe.”

“Go back to a universe that wants you.”

Maat falls silent. Something has happened.

“Just as entitled as the rest of them it seems.”

Oh, how she burned to sear these manifestations away. It would have been almost euphoric to scar the lands with fire just to erase this one instance of an individual that reminded her of a much larger problem brewing elsewhere. Even the void in her chest ached with excitement, with longing. Perhaps this once, she would be justified in carving out the abscess herself.

Maybe that would dissuade others into stifled silence until she could cut them down too.

“My feelings hardly matter here. I am already aware of other instances. Reshiram, the mortals call them. Yours have a name, too, but they shouldn’t. They manifest without rhyme or reason. I suppose echoes are sometimes necessary to keep parts of reality pinned down.”

But it didn’t matter. None of it did. Not anymore. If anything were powerful enough to strike her down from the heavens, she would welcome the snuffing of her light. That empty void wriggled again, spreading through her threateningly. 

“You’re sentimental. Figures that that would be the commonality between you all.” A flare of annoyance? “The devout don’t understand how little they mean. Mortals search for that same sentimentality in the world around them because they cannot comprehend anything greater than that. Let them wither away in blind faith. I don’t care about their sentimentality, their loyalty, their offerings, or their fears.

“Let a foolish mortal try to take my position if they covet my power so greatly. They wouldn’t be the first to do so.”

The air became stifling. Something much more intense than the average Turboblaze.

“Your anger is misguided,” Maat replied calmly. “This isolated moment is not about you. Nor will it ever be.”

She blinked slowly, assessing the Doctor’s ruined form. This was not solely her doing. It was an over exertion on their part. For shame, but now was not the time to worry about such trivial matters. The Doctor, indeed, appeared to be dying, though Maat didn’t seem outwardly concerned.

Obviously, this seemed to be not caring, as Celosia so eloquently put it. Well, there was more profanity, but Maat was indifferent to the scorn. Aren’t you a god?

Yes, surely Celosia of all beings would be a more just and unbiased conveyor of Truth. The one more capable of embodying all Truths both kind and malicious and organizing and maintaining order even when those who curry favor are direct collateral.

It felt silly, even though Maat was certain that they got what they wanted...for better or for worse.

“Feel free to trade places with me if you feel you would be a better fit,” Maat continued, voice still level and monotone. “Otherwise, keep both your ignorant mouths shut.”

Her attention was on the Doctor. They really did look like they had been chewed up and spit out, mumbling words that sounded like bubbles coming out of their mouth. It was pitiful to witness, but very necessary.

“If they need specific care, you are wasting time carrying these stragglers across the sand.” She paused briefly, eyeing them all carefully, almost as if to determine if she would even bother speaking to any of them. “Call it whatever you want, but they most certainly will die in your arms if you maintain your current pace. If you prefer that fate, then I will leave you to your devices. If you would prefer a swifter method, I will offer that to you by merit of your association with them.”

It was probably better to not say she would do it anyway, at least not so bluntly.

The fires of judgement welled within Maat’s chest, though, perhaps, there was an element of fear there as well. This poor mortal that she’d torn asunder with mere words. The lack of control on Rosie’s part felt very much like the standard for them.

Of course, how could she blame Rosie for being closed off - though not completely.

“The fallacy of not confronting what you know to be one of your deepest concerns only feeds into this chaotic reaction,” Maat said, taking great care to allow Rosie the space she needed. “Your panic is blind, but you know that if you do not deal with it now, there will be blood on your hands. If you are not careful, Honey will be the first of many allies you will consume.”

Maat schooled herself into a stony silence. She could see it so clearly, it almost pained her to imagine it. Rosie lashing out. Rosie regretting it when she finally came back around. Rosie in anguish and slipping backwards. That was no way to live one’s life, even if it was prescribed by merit of being Victini’s Patron.

“Roselind,” Maat whispered, lowering her head until she was eye level with Rosie. “What you need above all else, is control. Even a little will take you to where you need to go. If you must lash out, I am here tot take the brunt of your panic, lest you tear yourself apart in your own anguish.”

As if to illustrate concern, Maat took a deep breath. Four seconds in, a long hold, and four seconds out. This was what helped her stay in control of herself. This was how she didn’t rip worlds apart in times of blind panic. Hopefully, it would help Rosie as well.

It sounded like such a simple request, but the nagging feeling that it is anything but is present and exceptionally loud. The Ravener is inherently imbalanced, but it also seems to have been guided in that direction at least in some part by its mentor. Maat blinks slowly. There are few options that she is willing to entertain.

“I can make my True Sight of service to you, if that is what you so desire,” she blinks again and pushes the nagging feeling to the side at least for now. “You will not have access to it for long, however, and you may choose how you wish to receive it. Consider carefully how you ask for it to be presented.”

“Ask any questions you like.” was unspoken, but heavily implied.