Crimson

Chapter Forty-One

The previous night cycle...

Amid the brilliantly lighted room, surrounded by plasma torches high in the surrounding walls, the Vior diligently studied parchments from many cycles, past. Tall stone pillars, each containing many rolled parchments adorned the room. Expansive, the room stretched the dimensions of the base of the obelisk as it towered in five separate levels connected by stone-cut steps.

Staircases lead to much older ones, which lay encased in dust particles at the very top of the room. Forgotten memories or simple statements of ancestors of the Reyopans, Xiantu, and Eron's written in some tongues lost to the decay of time, a mystery to their keepers. The very custodians who now scoured the ancient documents with a fever pitch. Within these parchments lay, what their own Legio stated, "The answer to our current plight."

Dorn, the newest addition to the brain trust of the legionnaires known as the Vior, the brilliant strategists who worked tirelessly, testing their mental fortitude while performing mental gymnastics, straining their bodies to discover a solution, felt the fatigue wash over him. With this, his second cycle in a row without a moment of slumber, he felt his scales throb slightly.

Each moment, his body continued to protest as his orbs misted slightly, struggling to focus. His mind fuzzy, his mood, flat, Dorn refrained to speak to anyone, lest he be relieved of his duties. All the while, his comrades worked tirelessly, even going so far as to relieve themselves in containers they held close to their workstations, just to go a moment longer, to break the nearly impassible dilemma presented to them.

His vision doubling, his stomach aching in hunger, Dorn glanced away as his, apparently useless parchment before scouting the large hall where many frantic Vior, their light mechanisms flickering anxiously scanned each fragment of parchment, their orbs, shooting wildly as they absorbed the material. Frantically grasping document after document with their tense talons as they formed piles of reviewed parchments around them, literally burying themselves in their research.

"When will this all end?" Dorn thought to himself.

"No need to look so glum." A cheery voice said next to him. "He he. Just remember, if the work doesn't kill you, your mind will just snap soon."

Turning round, Dorn's orbs readjusted as he noticed a crazed smile etched over a squat Ak-Wo adorned with the green Vior wrappings hugged upon Dorn's own frame. Clearly, a zes, Dorn identified the sickly glowing of his biolight, as his face remained so close to Dorn's. Carrying a bundle of neatly rolled parchments in his arms, he held them to his abdomen, appearing as if his stomachs ached. Uncomfortably shifting, Dorn slowly backed away while remaining vigilant of this newcomer.

Repugnant, while containing a fascination, this oddity remained in place, ignoring all of Dorn's social cues as well as body flicker of uncomfortability. Thinking briefly, Dorn nearly chuckled as he considered his large, overbearing frame, one that the elite Clathor would love to control, as he leaned away from this small, nearly insignificant size of this intruder of Dorn's own boundaries.

"Eh, standing awfully close there, comrade." Dorn say measuring the Vior who refused to relent his craze smile etched across his face while his orbs contained a hint of deep melancholy, a fog of sorrow hanging over his orbs.

"My apologies," The newcomer said backing up slowly, their orbs latched upon Dorn as a fascination, a new subject weaving into this life thread. "I merely wanted to present my wishes for your wellness. I meant nothing by it." He continued as a rolled up parchment fell from his grasp, teetering gently before careening down to the floor as it rattled before coming to its resting place.

Adjusting back to his comfortable seated position, Dorn orbed his quizzical manner before stating, "No worries. I am not offended. Just surprised. I'm Dorn and you are?"