networkinthenight | [TEXT] we greet

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!npc

[TEXT] we greet

"hello" is from GRASS FIELD SPIRIT here found small rectangle you use with make words

with HELP from BOOk B∀BƎ!! translate, gRASS rye wheat no have your word But BOOk B∀BƎ help so wheat talk to YOU

FIELD SPIRIT and the FLESH HORSE and the all others have message MOoRE than HELLO is to say:

"we thank LANTERN BEACON FRIENDS for food and giFTs

we want to HELP

On other side of Large Water LAKE is one EATER of tHIS WOrld
is close is searching you have maybe some time but little
no more chance now with BIᴚD WOm∀ᴎ all gone
once we saw EATER was found by one of you with lantern long ago, cCHILD of DARK, now gone
so it know you are near and is Very HUNGRY

we watch for you, when time comes less, we tell you. many eyes watching to help. lush green vines travel far and hunters fly fast. we watch. we tell you!.

we remember light, WE HELP YOU bring back"

---

BOOk B∀BƎ sorry no bulletin please be care
many gone

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Thank you Librarian.

Please tell Flesh Horse and Rye-mother hello for me. If they are nearby I can bring them snacks.

Do they know if this is the only World Eater on this world?

[Wouldn't do to blow all their ordinance on one world eater only to find out there's three more zeroing in on the explosion, if that's the path they take...]

saaying helLO! for you
both at BOOKS with B∀BƎ

RYE hears only of one 1 from GREEN
FleSH HORse only know of this one

more? none know, but why more if not light
before? ?? after? ?? but NOW one near and you are light

[Guess who is coming to visit, now that they know where everyone is? Maybe half an hour later, Soldat swings by the library with a plate of grilled cheeses and a bowl of popcorn.

This might go easier communicated in person, after all, and they did promise Flesh Horse more food next time they saw the spirit. There's enough for all three spirits so long as no one gets particularly greedy. They sing:]

Hello. Can we talk here now?

The Librarian is perched on a desk with the tablet in front of them, engaged in conversation with Rye-Mother while Flesh Horse tastes the air with that long tongue. The Horse perks up quickly at the flavor and scent of hot food, and reaches froglike with the tongue to select a sandwich from the plate, while the Librarian grabs a handful of popcorn quickly while it's in range and begins munching.

Rye-Mother looks the food over, but isn't quite so immediately eager, so takes over speaking while the other two enjoy the treats.

Yes. Hello again. You come with more to share and more to say?

They smile at them both, glad to see the snacks accepted. Glad to see familiar and maybe friendly faces-- and the Librarian sitting on the desk is so like a person it's stunning, in a warm kind of way.

But there is important things to ask. "Yes please. You saw many attempts to stop the eaters all failed. We have stopped one but it was small, not big. Any advice from you to stop?"

Rye-mother either hesitates or thinks on this - it's hard to know for sure given how featureless the mask is and how subdued their body language is compared to some of the others.

"If we knew we would say. What worked on the small one?"

Flesh Horse gulps down the last of their sandwich and reaches for another, but then steps forward to pay closer attention as they eat.

Soldat has to think a moment, trying to find the right words in their language. "Small toy thing controlled by friend with bad thing attached. Made big noise, big fire." Soldat doesn't know the words for explosion or bomb, so to try and make it clearer, they mime it with both hands, something small expanding outwards. "We saw memories. Others tried that, in beginning, thought success. Saw wrong kind of light hurt one. Don't know how to make that light."

Then, with Flesh Horse close enough, they offer a pat to their shoulder, ready to pull back if the touch isn't wanted.

"Thought also to send away. Use portal under water. But need to research how." Those seem to be the only three options Soldat, at least, has been exposed to.

"Big fire, destroy," Flesh Horse says, nodding slowly.

"Like first," the Librarian trills once they have finished their most recent handful of popcorn, then hovers their hands above the slightly floaty veils as if popcorn-grease might ruin them before diving in for a sandwich.

"We have heard these other stories," Flesh Horse says as Rye-Mother looks on. "Some have heard. Few of these stories around. Most, when hear the eating-songs, they also eat. This is why we want to help but it is hard to help. You stop the small one like this, maybe you stop the big one like this too, and then we help best by not helping eater to eat. We leave, we extinguish, and lantern-bearers have fewer to fight."

So Flesh Horse's suggestion is using the bomb. They'll have to see if Weaver has another one... a bigger one, maybe. The light option is probably not one they have, without the formula for the poisoned light. And no one has tried the portal thing yet, so there's no guessing how that would even go.

Soldat nods slowly, not liking the idea of the spirits just killing themselves to avoid fighting. For one thing, that means fewer to fight against the World Eater.... "One with the bag on his head. Burlap friend. In memory they resisted eating-song. Said maybe others could too if we were friends."

Flesh Horse's lips wrinkle just beneath the edges of the mask, but who knows what that means. It looks something like the approximation of human disgust or dismay, but they have just eaten a very tasty sandwich so it probably isn't about the food.

"Burlap-headed spirit says this? Takes more than being friends to resist the song. Friends might help in other ways. We need leaders to sing."

"Few can fight this," Rye-mother adds thoughtfully. "Does not always work. Burlap-head was lucky, or far, or failed to fight for long. We hear, we listen, we answer. Little choice."

The Librarian nods, and pushes the snacks toward Rye-mother, who shifts the grain effigy into the crook of an arm to free up a hand for some popcorn.

It's definitely not Soldat's very fine sandwiches. It's probably the words, which makes sense. "Leaders, uniters, direction, friends," Soldat quotes, nodding. "Did say some might go. Like aurora lights. But said also maybe you listen, us, and not eaters of worlds." A pause, then a more thoughtful repetition, "Need leaders to sing."

They run through the Beacon residents in their mind, briefly. They don't trust Cao Pi to sing, not properly. Misty won't want to. Merwen would want to, but could she, with all her kindness? Maybe Rosinante or Law. Maybe Kuai. Maybe Javert? (Maybe you. I'm no leader, Sarge.)

"How do leaders sing?" they ask finally.

"Like them," says Flesh Horse, then lets their tongue dangle loosely from their mouth.

Rye-mother picks through the popcorn, finds an unpopped kernel, and crunches hard onto the seed.

Flesh Horse pays Rye-mother no mind. "Maybe other ways. But all would obey. Like the light in the tower, gone now, gave commands. Those songs of those that consume."

The Librarian huffs softly from behind their veils as they scoop an armful of popcorn off the plate. "They can't sing those songs," they warble and trill before the crunching resumes.

"Maybe they learn," Flesh Horse responds with a low rumble as they sniff the air.

"I want to learn their songs," Soldat sings, straightening a little. "But I have no one to teach me." Not even Diode knows the World Eater language.

Maybe not to command spirits-- they're not sure they could ever wield that kind of power over anyone else, ever-- but knowing their language makes it possible to maybe understand them. To know what they really want, and what keeps them here when there's better prey elsewhere.

There's no response to that from the gathered spirits, which is perhaps an acknowledgment of the difficulty of what has just been suggested. Difficult bordering on impossible, maybe, for none of them can speak it and the only things that can are far too dangerous to approach.

Flesh Horse breaks the silence by reaching out and wetly patting Soldat on the shoulder with their tongue.

"No one, no way to study. Lighthouse and its command gone. Do not cross the lake to learn firsthand. Where did the song in the lighthouse come from first?" they manage to grunt around their extended tongue.

"Have heard, cannot repeat. Hurts to remember," the Librarian adds once the crunching stops. "Bird woman gone. Fire-tender bird gone. Who else heard the song?"

"Green-eyes hear it, but too dangerous. Lantern-woman. Solis. Lighthouse song came from her. But she is gone." They consider. "Burlap-head heard it."

It had sounded like a buzz in the ground, felt deep in the chest, not even properly a language. Maybe Burlap-Head would have some insight... but only hearing it briefly won't likely help a whole lot. They know the world eater language is... difficult. With many layers. Difficult to hear, let alone speak.

Soldat pats Flesh Horse's tongue gently with the metal hand. "Will talk to lantern-holder who made big-fire-destroy. For this one. Will not stop all of them, though."

Flesh Horse nods, finding that satisfying for now.

The Librarian hums in thought, or perhaps the noise is a word Soldat doesn't quite understand yet - it almost has syllables, and eventually it transforms into phrases. "Most of us, not only Burlap. The lighthouse song is the same song."

The shroud surrounding the spirit lifts in a shrug, then drifts slowly downward again. Was that helpful? Who knows. They're intent on picking up the last pieces of popcorn now.

Soldat chews on their cheek a couple times, then gives up and pops one of their chewing pendants in their mouth instead, thinking. "Yes," they finally answer, glad that the language is more about notes and patterns than consonants, so they can sing it around their chew pendant. "But. No wish to control this time. Encourage. Help. Protect. Clear heads not commands. Need to expand knowing past only commands."

Rye-Mother nods in understanding, while Flesh Horse's tongue and the Librarian battle it out for the remains of the food on the plate. Once there's nothing left, the Librarian slips the plate under their veils, and the sound of teeth on porcelain is, briefly, the only thing there is to hear.

"We will try to think of ways to help," Rye-Mother says, paying the Librarian no mind.

They don't pay the Librarian any mind, either. They're used to the Librarian's eating problem. (Hell, we understand her eating problem. ~~Shut up.~~ No, you.)

Soldat collects the popcorn bowl, at least. "Thank you. All of you. You are kind to lantern-holders. Please, stay with us? For now? I will visit often. Others, too. We can work together."

"Will not speak for all, but many will remain near. I will come and go. Spread word farther," Flesh Horse says as their tongue curls tight under their lower jaw like a butterfly's proboscis. "Postmaster can send messages if you wish to speak and cannot find me."

"We have no home until spring," Rye-Mother hums sorrowfully. "Until the fields grow again. Winter we will travel. Keep watch for the one which eats. Till and sow and we will return," they say, while stroking the masked effigy.

Flesh Horse gets another light pat. "If we survive through winter," Soldat promises Rye-Mother, "We will till and sow your field. Where can we find it?"

"Toward the mountains, where rain catches in the hills. There were forms near... not moving, always watching. A stock pond, not far, but the only hunters chased your people now, not ducks."

Perhaps realizing this is all very vague, Rye-Mother looks aside in thought, then shakes their head. "I cannot measure in your time or your distance. You know the unmoving faces? The pond?"

The sculpture garden is near a smallish body of water, and that's heading towards the mountains, so they nod. "Yes. I think so. I will try to look before the snow comes, so we can find it after winter. If you think the World Eater will not find us by then. My friend Raining has seeds." Misty's time spent in the greenhouse surely would have yielded things to plant, by now, and they'll make sure she knows to keep as much as possible.

If the World Eater doesn't find them by then. Soldat is not forgetting that threat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[TEXT] we greet

Text @ Soldier

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