Votul'khee closed her eyes and breathed in the fetid air. Growls of defiance and the violent shattering of shells filled the damp cave, each kill emphasized by the ear-piercing abhorrent shrieks. Spears audibly sank into flesh, and shields clashed against puncturing claws.

The paladin clutched a knobby artifact of intent, pressing her digits into its soft, malleable exterior, feeling its whims pull upon her thoughts. Vehement wrath drew upon her mind from the veritable pool of rage around her, filling with each passing second. Her snout curled into a snarl.

Another hand tightened around the thin, fleshy wood that encased an artifact of lightning, slamming it into the other. A golden ring echoed through the cavern as the stones aggressively vibrated upon contact.

It was not enough.

She sent forth her divine fury at the beasts of the mainland, drawing every wisp of immolating hatred and righteous savagery of her sisters into her talons. Her wrists shuddered and her nerves burned as a thousand wills were forced through her arms like a cascade of molten iron.

Teeth that drew her sisters' blood cracked. Vile claws ripped from the abhorrent bodies. Carapace shells snapped and shattered, the repulsive organs within soon to be burnt and fed to the avians.

The catalyst of indignation spurred forth the unnatural blessings within her palms, sparking its reaction with a nauseating hum. A glaring blue light pierced her clenched eyelids. Her skin tingled and writhed under thousands of sparkling jolts. Her skull pounded in agony.

A flashing vision of the stone-skinned abhorrent horde just in front of her seared into her mind, hundreds of targets rightfully deserving her unrelenting, bleeding HATRED.

"LORD OF THE MOUNTAIN, GUIDE MY HAND TRUE AND DIRECT MY FURY! SMITE THESE WRETCHED BEASTS!"

She thrusted her arms forward, her pavise-shielded limbs clutched tightly between her and the artifacts.

A deafening CRACK of lightning thrusted into her palms, resounding and clapping throughout the walls of rock in a clattering wail. Her hands convulsed as recursive pops and squelching death barely reached her ringing ears.

The paladin shook and clenched her burning hands before finally opening her watering eyes. The spears and shields of her sisters shone brightly under the glowing yellow and blue within her grasp. Smouldering cinders of fulminated abhorrent littered the battleground, the horde cleaved like a sickle through the crop.

Not that the mindless swarm cared for their brethren. Losing half their rank meant nothing in their pursuit of flesh and destruction. Their repulsive claws dug through the charred bodies.

The snarl never left Votul'khee's muzzle, only the corners curling into a vicious grin as her sisters roared and bellowed their growling laughter. They battered their shields with gauntlets like drums of war, stomping forward to meet their enemy upon the new line of battle.

"Forward, you whelps!" Kegara shouted from down the defensive line. "Forward unto their wretched lands! Bear your shields, thrust your spears! Our Lord watches your every move, credence in your strength to purify his temple from this infestation! Not ONE step back!"

The artifact-wielding paladin looked down at her hands, where blackened veins of lightning punctured the protective wood and perforated her skin. It burned. Her very digits trembled and struggled to hold onto their contents.

But she marched onward, with a thump in her heart and a purpose for her skills. She marched in line with her sisters, uncaring of their status as banished. She marched for vengeance. She marched for blood.

She marched for God.

= = = = =

The workshop's metal floor felt frigid on Shar'khee's shins, even through her black jeans. Her ears wilted and pressed guiltily against the sides of her head, as she bored her eyes into the ground in apology.

"Shar…" Tracy grumbled, standing just in front of the paladin with arms crossed over her 'bust.' "It's really not that serious. Please, just be like forty-percent more conscious of where you're barging into."

Shar'khee shook her head. "It is 'that serious.' I have detracted from both of your lives with my selfish search for your company. I… I should have known you had been working to ease your mutual stress. Please, forgive me for my egregious disturbance!"

Her mate rested her arm upon her desk chair's backrest, contemplatively swinging it side to side. "I said it was alright like three times now. You just walked in at the wrong time. I mean, Harrison seemed a bit… out of it… this morning, but he wasn't upset either. He squeezed me all night and gave you a big 'ol kiss this morning."

"Our love shall not be so easily strained. However…" The paladin looked up, pleading. "I would like nothing more than to make up for what I have taken."

She reached out and gently took Tracy's warm hand, a determination in her heart. "I could give you and our dearest a massage, even in the bath, if you so wished! Harrison says my ministrations are quite tender and relaxing."

The Artificer turned away, red sprawling across her cheeks in a nervous blush. "Well, we weren't just massaging each other…"

Shar'khee tilted her head at an inquisitive angle, confused. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I…" The chair squeaked as Tracy stopped spinning it, squinting back at the paladin with a difficult expression. She struggled to push out her words, opening and closing her mouth with aborted sentences. "I forgot you… uhm… never learned about that kind of… thing. What do you know about… ah… sex?"

"Mating?" Shar'khee pressed a talon to the end of her snout in thought, frowning. "It is true. I do not know much of the act. I understand such is how pups are conceived, but… Do you mean to tell me it relieves stress?"

The Artificer squeezed her mate's hand. "Well… yeah. That's… That's the main thing…"

A spark of interest straightened the paladin's back. It flared those fires in her stomach, reminding her suddenly of all those close massages and roaming hands. A passing thought drew her mind to the warmth of Harrison's palms around her hips, flirting around her waistband…

She shook her head. Her mates were stressed just as much as she was unsettled by the rottenness of the mainland. It was her sworn obligation to bring them through these nightmares. To rip out those nasty, choking strings of worry and fret from her mates.

"Then, dearest Tracy, would you teach me how to 'sex' a star-sent?"

"I mean– Well– I assume we'd eventually– You could ask– For just us…?" the female star-sent sputtered.

Shar'khee softly pleaded for the Artificer's guidance with hopeful eyes.

Tracy's face only grew redder, as if it would camouflage perfectly amongst the trees. Her hand squirmed in the paladin's, her other tightly gripping her overalls. "N-No, Shar… I don't even really know—We can't! Not here, a-and not right now!"

The maroon-skinned female's ears flattened, fervor leaking into her projection. "Why not? My inexperience may show, but if it relieves stress, I would love nothing more than to try. My adoration may be for our dearest Creator, but there is nothing I will not do to help you! We are together as one, are we not? Please, give me the means to bring us solace and respite."

"Y-Yeah, we're together, but… It's…" The Artificer huffed, making a low whine as if she were going to explode at a mere touch. Then, she stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at the ceiling. "W-What was that, Sebas?"

The low, consistent drone of the supposed colony 'AI' echoed through the rumbling of nearby machines.

"Oh, the mech pilots need me super urgently? Okay, okay, yeah, I'll be right over." Tracy gave an apologetic frown to the paladin, pointing a thumb to a corner of the workshop. "Apparently the hunter pilots need my help with something kind of urgent. Sorry to cut this short."

A small smile peeked through her worried visage, her intent taking on a more interested tone. "How about we move your questions to… tonight with Harrison?"

Shar'khee huffed. "If you are needed elsewhere… Let me know when you are returning to our chambers, I shall bring our dearest with me."

"Yeah, I'll be in here all day, so I'll probably be in connection with Harry-bear before dinner. We can scamper on back to bed after… If I can pass a skill-check in convincing him to relax, that is. It'll help if you're there. A-Anyway, I should get going. Talk to you later, babe!"*

Her tiny lover waved vigorously, grabbed her data pad and jogged off, leaving the paladin little time to smile and wave back. Though, she was left a little stumped by… 'babe.'

She sort of enjoyed it, ringing in her mind like 'dearest' and 'darling,' if not with a bit more of that stomach fire to it. Perhaps she would like to replicate its use.

But, that would come later. For now, Shar'khee was to tend the new ones in… She checked her wristwatch and took a moment to recall those digits, performing swift mental math… Twenty minutes.

A swell blessing of time for her to reapply herself to the proper mindset. Her task was as simple as ever, her ways having been taught numerous times to just about every settler, but today's lessons had graver implications and quality to reach.

Firearm safety.

Harrison requested it personally. Every stalwart citizen of his new empire should draw confidence from their own abilities as much as they draw from their comrades. Their hearts should be steeled and their faith certain. Every twitch of their trigger digit is to be in tune with their very nerves. Each breath must be chosen with a weapon of the gods in their hands.

The paladin set off, her body feeling sore from the shame of her prior actions yet somewhat energized for what she might learn that evening. She held onto those warm thoughts as the gray, overcast day took her in.

The air's frigid bite pecked at her snout while she traveled through the settlement. The people she crossed by had purposeful strides and determined expressions. What would once be a passing greeting with a polite bow of the head and a smile was now a firm nod in recognition to one another.

Shar'khee did not mind the change. It was reminiscent of paladin drilling under the Island Mountain. There was a sense of shared burden and acknowledgement amongst one another. Neither cold nor joyous… but together.

She returned to the barracks and donned her armor before picking up a few weapons by the workshop and making her way toward the range. The different heights of the firing head had been easily replaced after the blood-moon, and all of those who practiced woodcarving had replenished the usable targets of mock abhorrent.

The entire area was ripe for its purpose, and she would be the first to use it for the afternoon. Yet, interestingly enough, she was not the first of those present; one from her own squad stood by the stocked armory tent, the deep orange-skinned machine-gunner.

The spear's ears shot up when they locked eyes, and she bowed her head. "Greetings to you, Paladin Shar'khee."

Shar'khee stopped at the entrance and nodded back. "Greetings. You are here earlier than expected. Did you wish to be the quartermaster for this operation?"

The orange-skinned warrior shook her head, respectfully holding her hands behind her back. "I would not mind, were it my responsibility. But, I am only here early because I thought it proper."

"The Creator does not approve of settlers leaving the grand walls in any less than a squad of eight," the paladin reminded with a low voice. "You are lucky he is lenient with the range."

"Of course… Forgive me, I suppose my premature arrival is unwise."

Shar'khee walked past her and under the tent, putting her framed backpack on the floor and placing the 'wooden furniture' FALs onto an open table. "It is no matter. His precautions are for your safety. It would do us no good to lose such a talented warrior."

There was a long stretch of silence as she worked to check over the weapons, swiftly revealing their internals and swapping the pistol grips—thank the Goddess of the Winds for Harrison's separation of the polymer housing from the trigger mechanism. These weapons had not been used for many days, what with most males turning to mech combat or more supporting roles during the blood-moons. They still inherited the talon-friendly magazine-release paddles and thickened hand guards, thankfully.

"Squad leader?" the spear asked quietly from behind her.

"What is it?" Shar'khee returned passively, clicking a FAL's front-end assembly back into place.

The machine-gunner drew in a low breath, a vulnerable yet passionate warmth in her tone."I… worry I have yet to make it known, but I wish to do so. I admire your presence in our squad and value your leadership. There is not another soul on Ershah who could forge my strength and sharpen my wit as you do. You have my endless appreciation, for I would never know the feats I was capable of without you. Know that my will and hope revolve around your word, great paladin. Were I to lay down my life, may it be for you and our Creator's vision."

The paladin looked back. Her battle sister stood tall, but her head was low, and her ears were limp… This was not the first time the maroon-skinned female was appreciated this day, nor was it the first example of it. She felt a soft smile grow along her muzzle. "Come here, great warrior."

There was not a moment of hesitation before she obliged to the request. Shar'khee fully stood up and faced her, tenderly placing hands along her bulky, armored pauldrons and holding her gauntlets.

"It would be unwise of me not to make my own appreciation known, especially now that the fragility of life has been made terrifyingly obvious. You have been a stalwart defender by my side for many weeks now. Your improvement from a mere guardswoman to a slaughterer of thousands has been nothing but a rewarding experience for myself. A will to develop oneself and skin thick enough to build upon mistakes makes you exceptional."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The paladin patted the other's shoulder once, a tighter hold emphasizing the depth of her words. "Indeed, your company through our battles of the forest and settlement, to the exploration of great star-sent ruins, and even in our mutual protection of the Creator has been invaluable, and I could ask of no finer a woman. You are recognized and appreciated."

She took another breath, and finalized the embrace, allowing the moment of camaraderie to stand. It was the least she could do for her squad and for the settlement.

It was a difficult time of mourning and solitude, but there was strength to be drawn from each other, and reverence to show. Rivalries were let to rest, shoulders were wept upon, and fraternity was solidified beyond the division of 'squads' in the aftermath. Everyone needed the hands of another, and everyone was willing to bear the burden of their comrades.

Promises of sacrifice for the life of another, admissions of admiration, and firm embraces were common this day. When the dread of death intruded upon the settlement's doorstep and left with the bodies, love, and hopes of three, the settlement had two immediate reactions. The first was to submit wholly to the star-sents demands, dropping everything they had to ensure not one more fell.

…And the second, when the fires died and the sulking grief of loss seeped in, when the realization that one of their own was gone forever… was to tell their sisters and brothers how much they loved them. How lucky they were to meet. How they cared to see them healthy and happy. How much they aspired to be their strength and solace in such an unforgiving world. How imperative it was that their squadmates, mess-hall friends, and battlesisters knew they would not be forgotten, and they most certainly would never be missed. The boulders and gravestones in which their lives will be remembered from, long after they have given their last breath to the Creator's vision, were promised to hold a thousand scratches of remembrance.

They would be loved. They would be thought of.

It was an awe-inspiring sight, not only for the tense paladin, but notably for the twenty-three souls invited to live amongst them. This mutual grieving shared amongst a tightly-knit community of warriors, harvesters, and laborers inspired the unfamiliarized members. Shar'khee could see it in their eyes, with each display of companionship showing them a future of camaraderie and unity they could invest into. Were they to apply their skills for the betterment of one another, they too would become closer than any blood-sister ever could.

Such could not be formed on the foundations that the newest arrivals stood. They must start from the very beginning, just as Shar'khee had. They must have self-discipline and a firm understanding of the responsibility they are given.

Firearm safety and the righteous privilege of owning one would not be simple one-day trials.

But, it all began with the will to defend that which they loved.

= = = = =

"You're focusing too much on cleaning. The stitcher only needs a vague look at the wound to work. Blood's always gonna keep seeping in, so give it a wipe and let the stitcher do its thing and staunch the wound," Harrison ordered one of the three new male medics. "Again."

The deep green-skinned Malkrin, kneeling on the ground, scooted along the laid-out gelatin leg molded after a female's massive thigh. He held onto a lightweight device meant to partially cauterize, stitch, and seal-off wounds in one hand and a pack of sterilized wipes in another.

Harrison quickly bent down and stabbed another gash into the mock body, letting thick blood spill out of it and starting another timer for the male. This would be his third time attempting the simple procedure, and he was getting pretty good at it. He, like the other two sewists, took to manually sewing wounds pretty well alongside needle application and first aid, learning their medicinal basics with gusto. Now, it was down to learning how to apply the life-saving equipment while under a soft time limit.

The way Malkrin listened and acted on his orders was always something the engineer appreciated. The three males knew him for less than four days; it wouldn't have been weird for them to be a little hesitant or struggle in some way to keep up. But no, they took in what he said, processed it for a second or two, and went along like it was routine.

Maybe it was from the solemn aura the settlement wore since the other night. A sense of responsibility and mutual cooperation seemed to permeate through the people in a way that reflected the emotion. It was hard to explain, but everything felt… gray. Neither good nor bad, but productive because it was the only way forward.

It helped him a lot more than they would know. Some deeper part of him had felt a subtle frustration at himself for even thinking about 'going back to normal' and working like any other day. Three people he knew personally were dead. He oversaw their burned bodies. There would never be a day of mourning, there was too much work to be done, but it still felt wrong.

Yet the Malkrin continued, all of them. Those who knew the fisherwoman, medic, and seamstress continued. The twenty-three banished, whose first impressions of the settlement were death… continued. They all put down their emotions, spoke with their loved ones, and went through to the next day.

Harrison had once truly believed he couldn't only do the same. Every time he thought about how he failed the colony with his false promises, a cold guilt rested its frigid palms on his shoulders and crushed. It filled him with doubt. It made him wary. It stole his hope.

…But only when he thought about it. The Malkrin didn't just distract themselves throughout the day, they found comfort in the suffocating emptiness with purpose and with those they cherished. It took him some time to realize that it was the only way out.

Tracy, when she was just as terrified and anxious, sought him out, laughed with him, and went out of her way to plan some time alone to take their minds off of everything. Sharky offered her soft and pliable tail whenever she was around, kneeling down and licking him when she noticed his expression drop. Cera even sat him down to talk for a while. They didn't discuss recent events, but rather small things happening around the settlement—gossip and future ideas, basically. It was enough to take him away, even helping to plan some upcoming projects, such as the church.

Harrison hated that when those conversations and interactions ended, he found himself back in the same pit he started out in. He recognized their help and adored it, yet the fact that it was for nothing felt like he was spurning them. Alone, he was left to his own thoughts and self-abhorrence.

Yet, as he observed passing settlers, he started to feel it, that 'gray' purposeful feeling.

Harvesters describing the mining lasers to their new squadmates, the spears practicing the use of purifiers, and now the new medics willing to learn anything and everything to improve. Harrison followed in their footsteps, focusing on what was actually achievable.

Just… finish projects. Get what needed to be done, done. Find the victories he could, appreciate those he had, and give back as best he could.

"…Creator?"

Harrison jolted, blinking a few times before looking back down at the male he was teaching. "Yeah? Sorry about that."

The medic-in-training slowly nodded his head once, uncertain even of speaking up. "M-My stitches are completed. Please, find my errors."

There was the same white antiseptic pad attached to where the cut once was, its tight seal outlining where the knife had penetrated alongside the small nubs of the stitches. Yet, it was significantly cleaner than the wound beside it, having leaked a minuscule amount of blood.

The engineer hummed his approval. "Looks a lot cleaner—done in record time. That's the way you want it. Excellent job. Let's see it again."

The dark green-skinned male nodded, his body softly swaying side-to-side with a wagging tail until he scornfully forced it down with a free hand. His embarrassed expression lasted as long as it took Harrison to stab another part of the recreated leg.

He stepped back and regained himself, focusing on what was in front of him.

A purpose to fulfill.

- - - - -

Harrison dragged himself back into the settlement from another afternoon of knife-fighting with several-hundred-kilogram, apex predator women. Naturally, he was covered in sweat, dirt, and a slathering of Shar's saliva. It was an exhausting hour, but an impactful one for training and ice-breaking. He even managed to put up a good fight against one of the shieldswomen without his exoskeleton armor!

And, as much as he would have liked to hang back with Shar in her clingy whirlwind of tail-hugs, adorable face-licks, and purrs, she had her own group to tend to. Just the same as he had his own tasks, starting with a bit of clean-up.

The hot shower was nice, if not a bit early—definitely not when Tracy would take hers. Though, despite how satisfying it was to swipe away the dirt on his face and wash away the sweat that clung to him, it hardly compared to the thought of his technician being there. He could imagine her pressing up against him, her smooth, soaped skin sliding along his. The freedom of roaming hands and eager gropes was all too enticing after he experienced that high the night prior…

He left the shower, feeling almost nauseous under the constrained, held-back needs. The bathroom's cold air felt frigid against the heat between his hips. God dammit, everything about it was uncomfortable, making even the process of getting dressed a hassle.

It's not like he held anything against the worried, ever-attentive shark, but out of all the times she could have found them, it was unfortunate.

…He eventually managed to get himself under control before he made his way to the mess hall and approached the chef. The pink-skinned male was behind the kitchen counters, dressed in a professional white apron and a cute chef's hat at Tracy's request. He was busy portioning hot stew into thermoses alongside boxes of fish steaks. As efficient as soups were, the Malkrin definitely had a preference for slabs of meat they could tear their teeth into.

"Evening, Chef," Harrison called out, walking up to the room divider.

The short cook's ears perked straight up, his head on a swivel to locate the engineer, locking on with dilated eyes. "Chief Harrison! Greetings!"

A smile crossed the human's face at his reaction. "Hey, how're the meat 'n potato stews coming?"

The pink-skinned male quickly poured the last of the cups and set the empty pot down, resting his palms on the counter ledge. "They have turned out quite well! The broth is deliciously thick and salty with the slight mush of the vegetables adding to the texture and soft flares of spice. And, I am sure our females will adore the bites of meat that melt between their teeth! You were certainly correct: it saves much time combine it all into a singular barrel!"

Harrison similarly rested an elbow on a taller part of the half-wall, where trays would usually be placed for females to pick up. "Ayup, that's the beauty in it all. It's nice to put it all into one pot, mix it nicely, and just let it cook on its own."

"Most certainly," Chef agreed, pulling out another sheet of baked fish from the side and cutting it into proper serving sizes. "The farmers tell me that your star-sent vegetables can be grown swiftly and plentiful enough to have two pots a week. Your potatoes are the most prevalent… I presume you chose to introduce them for such a reason?"

"What can I say? They're a versatile food source and have a place in every meal." The engineer shrugged, nodding back toward the building's entrance. "And you can thank the several hundred years of genetic modification and the hydroponics girls for how fast the potatoes are growing."

The male shook his head, focusing on each deft slice of the knife. "I may just have to if this continues. Never have I been so blessed as to have access to such unique textures and flavors!"

Harrison smirked, remembering the time he taught Chef how to make a barbecue sauce, watching him cook a couple of hundred foods just to see if the flavoring fit them. "That actually reminds me, did the gathering squad bring back any of those pecan-tasting nuts, the, uh… what did you call them? Bark-hiders?"

The pink-skinned cook nodded his head profusely, excitement oozing from his tone and wagging tail. "Bark-creepers, yes! There are quite a few of them in stock after this morning's haul. Why do you ask? Did you wish for me to roast some right now? I would not mind!"

"No, no, just curious." The engineer waved a hand in front of himself. "There's actually a pretty good pie recipe my grandma taught me years ago. Those nuts just reminded me somewhat of the pecans she used to put in it."

"I see, I see. Please, do share the recipe with me! Your last glowberry crumble was most delicious!"

"For sure, I'll have Crosshairs print it out for you by tonight if you're interested."

"I am indeed interested," Chef confirmed. He continued to cut, focusing on his work as silence filled in the lack of conversation. He slowly stopped altogether after a few seconds, uncomfortably looking up toward the settlement's leader with a suddenly hesitant tone. "I… assume that is not why you have come to see me at this hour."

Harrison's own smile fell, his body resting less on the counter as his back straightened. "No… No, it isn't."

"Vodny?"

"I wanted to know if she's eaten yet," the engineer answered with a huff, feeling the room get a few degrees colder. "Haven't seen her all day, and I didn't want to force myself into your room."

The pink-skinned male softly nodded, staring at his half-cut fish filets. "My dearest Akula has brought her breakfast and lunch between her work blocks… The last I checked, she was sat upon the edge of our bed and staring into the floor, having only picked at her food. She said she could not stomach consumption. I believe she mentioned something about you."

Harrison closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "She needs to eat."

"She needs to labor," interjected a stern female from across the room.

He whipped his head around to see Akula marching between the two rows of tables. The uniquely purple-skinned female trailed behind her, subserviently holding her hands together.

The overseer stopped a few steps away from him, clasping her arms behind the small of her back in tune with her deferential lecture. "Females are built with a purpose in mind; the gods made it so. Tears, saliva, and blood mark that which they must provide. They must construct cities, provide for their people, and bleed in place of those they love. Without such aspirations to live by, they are nothing. Their souls rot if they do not pursue that which defines them."

"You think we should force Vodny into hard labor? No time to mourn her mates?" Harrison responded incredulously as the dark green-skinned female and her follower walked around the kitchen half-wall, toward Chef.

"Indeed." Akula stood by her soon-to-be-mate and softly squeezed his shoulder, continuing matter-of-factly. "Idle hands do nothing to staunch tears, Great Creator… I can see your contempt for my assumed apathy. I assure you, my heart is torn and my mind weeps. Not just for the fallen, but for my dearest Vodny. She is of my own. This is not my first tragedy, and it is my place, this day and under your rule, to be strong for our people. I was not before, so let it be now… Please, listen to the advice of one who has already lost everything."

Chef stayed silent, but chose to stare up at the taller Malkrin with reverence and awe in his eyes, just the same as the purple-skinned fisherwoman. Harrison drew in a breath and hummed his approval for her to continue.

"Your recognition of those below you is most appreciated as always," Akula complimented, stepping away from her male to stand across from the engineer, frowning. "As it stands, our sister Vodny is lost. Her greatest fears have been realized, and she has sunk into the depths, still alive yet despondent amongst the pressure. She only has the darkness of our room and her hands to grieve into.

"Our comrade has lost much of her life, roots of coral that held her to the sand… But not all is gone. The quality of being needed will ground her once more, holding her against the whipping currents. She has a purpose yet to fulfill… I can see it in her twitching palms; she desires to labor, to create a reason for herself to continue."

The overseer gestured to Harrison, squinting in emphasis. "Imagine if you, Creator, were to lose Paladin Shar'khee and Artificer Tracy. Your dedication and adoration for them are clear, and there is no doubt it would rend your heart in pieces."

The mere thought tightened his chest a little further, forcing him to swallow… He nodded in agreement.

"And, what would you do?" Akula raised her brows gravely. "How could you possibly deal with the absence of their light in your life…? I know precisely how: you would labor… You would labor like no other, drawing all your strength to protect the settlement against the same fate. Your heart would be in place with that which roots you to your purpose, connecting and finding warmth with the settlers you shepherd—myself, Chef, Cera, Oliver, Rook… Must I explain any further when your actions since last evening have proven myself correct?"

Harrison glared at the dark green-skinned Malkrin, crossing his arms. "Of course I would. I'm not going to abandon the settlement. But, I think it has to do with the fact that I have a responsibility to—"

"Precisely, Great Harrison," she emphasized, raising her voice and throwing an arm out wide to gesture at the wider world. "You have a responsibility to the settlement. Your purpose. It keeps you rooted and mindful of your worth. Having to labor and apply your skills would be the first part in the long journey of healing."

Akula drew in another breath, calming herself to offer a solemn expression. "It is just the same for Vodny. She yearns to be needed, even if she could not say so currently. She requires a path to heal, a foundation to hold onto before she is truly lost."

The engineer sighed, scrubbing his eyes. With how hardheaded Akula got sometimes, she did bring up a reasonable point… Her words rang more than a few bells within him.

The overseer stepped back, returning her hands to behind herself. "I understand you believe her immediate needs are vital, and they most certainly are… However, when you choose to speak with her, I implore you to offer her a task. One that you believe she is needed for. Extend a hand for her to grasp… I could personally request she join her sisters in gathering once more, and I will, but a part of me frets that fishing without her blood-sister may have… adverse effects."

Akula glanced down the room, raising her brows in expectation at him. "It is in my opinion that she needs you. Your vision provides a light in which we aspire to. It gives hope and purpose, both essential to our dearest Vodny going forward."

Harrison had long since begun to take his role more seriously beyond 'necessity.' Yet, that didn't stop him from feeling the same weight of responsibility every time it was brought up. Real people required him to continue, their very lives solely dependent on his decisions and how he acted.

He was more than willing to spend the time to help Vodny. His tone was low and slow, but drew on the confidence he needed to have. "I'll talk to her soon, then. Thank you for bringing it up."

"Of course. We must look out for one another," she stated firmly before taking in a deep breath, her eyes taking on a more curious sheen. "Now, I understand you have tasks greater than conversing with myself, and, please, do use my expertise were you to need it. But, when you are free, I would like to speak with you.

"I have an opportunity I feel you may find great interest in."

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