Thunderous Silence From a Tiny Catastrophe
Tak closed her eyes as she lay on her bed-squish, the cold, dark marble of Mewtwo's pocket dimension surrounding her.
Mewtwo's place had always been quiet; spacious places always seemed to be. But now, after the fight, the crushing darkness, hideous Khonshu-borne monsters and the explosion of the Moon with him at the epicenter, that quiet had changed. It wasn't just quiet, it was silent.
It was the faint, echoed rustle of aincient manuscripts she didn't realize she'd miss. The catlike pad of feet, barely on the threshold of her hearing but still promising companionship from across a half a mile of solid marble. His voice, deep and resonant even without direct psychic transmission, that made her react in ways that he never quite understood. Without them the quiet was oppressive, unbeatable and unbearable silence.
She'd tried to fill the silence. By training, sleeping, looking through the dustiest of his old tomes, running some experiments on plot-bunnies, downing chocolate by the brick, but no amount of activity seemed to fill the void this place had become. She'd decided to stay because it would be adventageous for her to do so. She had figured the Place had evaporated when he did, but it hadn't. Ample space to do or build anything she wanted, a vast supply of weapons, books and artifacts? She'd have been insane not to stay.
And the silence was driving her insane.
She sat up and eyed the irken laboratory equipment grafted to the marble around her. A snort and a transmission from her pak and the outermost tubes and flanges started to retreat into the larger bodies of the machinery, the nanotechnology reversing its growth at a baffling rate of acceleration. She slipped off the bed. A few hours, she figured, and she could be ready to leave. To the Nexus, probably. She'll carve out a place there and do... something. Maybe try her hand at interdimensional goods-running. Not something she figured she'd ever do, but it was better than slowly dying of silence here.
Mewtwo's place had always been quiet; spacious places always seemed to be. But now, after the fight, the crushing darkness, hideous Khonshu-borne monsters and the explosion of the Moon with him at the epicenter, that quiet had changed. It wasn't just quiet, it was silent.
It was the faint, echoed rustle of aincient manuscripts she didn't realize she'd miss. The catlike pad of feet, barely on the threshold of her hearing but still promising companionship from across a half a mile of solid marble. His voice, deep and resonant even without direct psychic transmission, that made her react in ways that he never quite understood. Without them the quiet was oppressive, unbeatable and unbearable silence.
She'd tried to fill the silence. By training, sleeping, looking through the dustiest of his old tomes, running some experiments on plot-bunnies, downing chocolate by the brick, but no amount of activity seemed to fill the void this place had become. She'd decided to stay because it would be adventageous for her to do so. She had figured the Place had evaporated when he did, but it hadn't. Ample space to do or build anything she wanted, a vast supply of weapons, books and artifacts? She'd have been insane not to stay.
And the silence was driving her insane.
She sat up and eyed the irken laboratory equipment grafted to the marble around her. A snort and a transmission from her pak and the outermost tubes and flanges started to retreat into the larger bodies of the machinery, the nanotechnology reversing its growth at a baffling rate of acceleration. She slipped off the bed. A few hours, she figured, and she could be ready to leave. To the Nexus, probably. She'll carve out a place there and do... something. Maybe try her hand at interdimensional goods-running. Not something she figured she'd ever do, but it was better than slowly dying of silence here.