The Small Things (Meira)

[Rugs]

"Come, Foz, let's go. Leave the old man to his bugs."

"Yeah, I guess... Never seen someone so into a buncha dead ones though... Hey, you heard anything from Reia lately...."

The Understudies' voices faded with their footsteps and left Krystos once more in restful quiet to himself. The children had been an annoyance, but only slightly so. They couldn't have been more than in barely into their teens. Despite his years, Krystos remembered those times — the curiosity, the brashness and loudness that blossomed along a growing sense of who and what he was.

"How things change," he sighed, looking up from his work to glance around the sun-soaked atrium he'd set up shop in. A long time had passed since he first walked these grounds. He wasn't the simple, wide-eyed youth he'd once been. "At yet, through it all, stay the same..."

No, he didn't mind the children at all, though he was thankful for the return to quiet. It was a good day to set up in the atrium, he decided. Often it was full, but spring continued to advance into the Tower's little valley, despite the Circle's mountains standing guard against it. The air was warm and clear, and many Mythics, old and young, were out enjoying the newfound freedom from winter's grasp.

So he'd taken one of his portable tables from his little workshop, a few of his newly-captured specimens that needed documenting along with some pins and labels to properly do so, and set up.

Sunlight, pure and strong fell on him through the large, curving window, next to which he'd decided to sit. But for all Helios' spring warmth, it couldn't seem to lend much color to the simple grey-blue robe Krystos wore, nor warmth to his pale, wan skin. His hair, though, vivid and red in spite of his years, looked nearly aflame atop his slender head and his sharp irises seemed sapphires when the light found them.

On a whim, he'd sent a request for Vesta to join her, and now he awaited her, carefully pinning the wings of a Evusi butterfly to his foam display board. It was a small thing, as were most of the day's specimen.

"Why's he care so much for those tiny little things anyway?" One of the Understudies had asked that. Foz, if Krystos recalled the voices correctly.

It's often the small things that shape the world, child, Krtystos silently rejoined. Termites to tear away the wall's strength, ants to take the meat from the terrorbeast's carcass...

The small foxes in the vineyard. The quiet, unassuming old man that lent a hand—one of many—to the tower's eventual crumble.

One slow, small step at a time. Krystos' hand trembled ever-so-gently as he pushed a pin through the butterfly's carapace.

But those were thoughts for another day and another time. He could feel Vesta's approach before he heard the sound of distant footfalls growing closer.

Krystos took a small, delicate pair of tweezers in his long, gangly fingers, and dipped them into a vial with another specimen. They came out gripping a zyphter with such gentleness as to barely be holding it.

He decided the little thing would be a good place to start with her.[/i]

[Meira]

Vesta whistled as she moved through the corridors of the tower. The dark passages no longer gave her pause of caused doubt in the young Vahla's mind. She was familiar with many of them now and did not hesitate when she moved through them. But, if she was honest, Vesta still much preferred the lighter areas of the tower, and the grounds even more so. Now that the weather was more favorable, Vesta had numbered among the many who moved their activities outdoors. Most of her training was now done in the open courtyards or out in the fields. It felt good to breathe the warm, fresh air.

She had to squint slightly as she came into the atrium. Stepping from the dark into the dazzling light was not the easiest of transitions and so she shielded her eyes as she glanced around for Krystos. It didn't take long to spot him. He was the only one in the atrium after all. She smiled and waved her hand as she trotted over.

"What's all this?" she asked, looking down at the table and the insects arranged on it. Vesta of course knew that Krystos was fond of Aiaru's many insect creatures, but she had yet to see his cataloged collection. Her eyes drifted along the displays, noting the butterfly, and then up to the insect Krystos held with the tweezers.

"Oh that's a Zyphter!" she said, moving around the table to get a closer look. Everyone knew about these potentially deadly pests. She'd been warned about them not long after her arrival on the planet. Though, cooped up among the Mythics, she'd never actually seen one up close. She'd heard of their venom being used in weapons amongst the battle mythics, but that was really all she knew.

As she stepped closer, Vesta couldn't help but marvel at the intricate wings of the zyphter. "It's so pretty." she commented, almost absentmindedly.

[Rugs]

Krystos turned to see his ward as she approached, her footfalls echoing in gentle whispers through the wide, curving atrium. His smile was warm and welcoming, despite his face's pallor. "Ah, yes," he said, motioning the girl to him with a slender, bony hand, "so good to see you again, m'dear. Come, come."

He adjusted his impromptu laboratory, shifting his stool aside and moving one to an amenable spot for Vesta, if she chose to sit.

"This?" asked, though the question was more an acknowledgement of her question than it was a question in full. The old man smiled again, and for half a heartbeat, the same fire that kissed his vivid hair burned in his crystalline eyes.

Now don't get too carried away now, he told himself with a quiet chuckly. Don't want to bore the poor child to death with talk of insects.

"These are my insects," he said. Briefly he paused, as he dipped his tweezers into his jar to remove the tiny zyphter. "Or bugs, as the young Understudies like to call them." He snorted soft laugh through the nostrils, both amused and still somewhat annoyed at the distractions from earlier. "A bit churlish, I think, but I suppose we all are at times."

A smile cracked his weathered face as Vesta recognized the zyphter grasped between his tweezers. She did well to know the insect by sight—they were extraordinarily dangerous.

Children on Aiaru were taught of the dangers from a young age. Visitors were often warned early. But not all paid attention.

"Yes, they are marvelous creatures," Krystos said. He lowered the insect to the table's surface, and deposited it carefully, as though the slightest mistreatment would cause irreparable harm. Fragile as the insect was, that wasn't necessarily untrue.

Krystos lifted a magnifying screen over the insect, and it went suddenly from being the size of a thumbnail to the size of a small dish. It was a marvelous creature, with an irridescnet carapace that covered its head and thorax. The abdomen, though, was more dull, now that the insect was dead. But when it lived, it would glow, like a little deadly, malevolent speck of light.

"She's a soldier. Born to defend the hive, at any cost. Even her own life. Dangerous things for their size, you know," he remarked causally. At the press of a button, a small repulsor on the bottom of his screen came to life and allowed him to release it without his specimen being crushed. "It only takes two stings, maybe three, to kill a man. It's not uncommon for a single sting to prove fatal, if it comes in a bad location or to the very young, or old, or otherwise infirm."

Krystos glanced up at Vesta, sharp blue eyes locking with hers for a half of a moment. Then his attention returned to a delicate set of instruments and a vial of clear liquid.

"It degrades the flesh. Causes severe, accelerated entropy on contact. And if it enters the bloodstream, well..." The words hung unfinished. Krystos had seen the results of that, had read reports from autopsies of what happened to a heart when the poison touched it.

"Beautiful, but deadly. And," he turned to look at her again, "such small, unassuming things. But they server their purpose. And this one has a purpose for us today."

A pause followed. It was a significant pause, if not a lengthy one, as Krystos shuffled around his tools. "Today, I am going to show you how to craft poison, Vesta. I've a set of protective gloves in my pouch," he said, nodding to the burlap sack on the floor behind his feet. "You may want to put them on."

[Meira]

Vesta took the stool that was offered to her and sat down, keeping her eyes on Krystos' hands. He moved so carefully, taking great pains to set the zyphter down as delicately as possible. She wondered if the care he was taking was because the insect was so dangerous, or because it was fragile. It could be a mixture of both. Vesta smiled at that juxtaposition.

As the zyphter was magnified, she moved closer to study it in more detail. She could see where it would glow, as so many creatures on this strange planet did, were it alive. For many of the creatures, the glow was also what made them so dangerous. Krystos mentioned how lethal they were and Vesta's eyes widened as she glanced up at her mentor. She hadn't realized they were that dangerous.

At the mention of what exactly the venom did, Vesta couldn't help but shudder. It seemed like a particularly nasty way to go. And the Mythics allowed the use of the venom on their weapons? It seemed barbaric. In her time since arriving at the tower, Vesta had often compared the Mythics with what she'd learned about the Jedi from Jasper. Though he'd left the Order, he'd done so on good terms and tried his best to instill their beliefs of peace and balance into Vesta's education and training. In many ways, the Jedi and the Mythics were similar. They both valued knowledge, though the Mythics took it to an obsessive extreme. Vesta had also found that training, discipline, and self control were values generally shared between the two, though the Mythics were not as stoic as the Jedi. But this... the use of such venom would never be allowed amongst the Jedi, she was fairly certain. Part of her wondered if the Jedi had good reason, but the other part of her was far too curious about the vials and instruments Krystos had produced.

He was being intentionally silent. She could tell. It was working. Vesta was all but squirming in her chair when Krystos finally revealed what they'd be doing. She smiled wide as she quickly retrieved the gloves he indicated. Pulling them on, Vesta moved to his side, ready to begin, all previous thoughts of ethics forgotten.

[Rugs]

“Zyphter venom has grown in popularity over the years,” Krystos said as Vesta fetched her gloves. “It is still a niche poison, compared to others, due in part to its commanding price and rarity. But it is quick, and effective.” He set his tools up while he worked, speaking about the subject the way a friend would speak to another over casual dinner. “It is not a particularly subtle tool, but when subtlety isn’t a concern, there are few better toxins.”

He set up equipment, weathered old hands working with a surprising surety. With a small repulsor tool, he set the tiny insect in place, and tapped it gently, three times, with miniature tweezers to be sure the field held it securely.

“We are not sure who first started using the insects’ venom as a poison,” he said. “There is a growing belief that some of the Sephi tribes that live on the older isles in the Ricosta Islands may have been the first, but we are not sure. The larger question may be if whoever first did it knew what they were unleashing, or if it their reasons were simple.” He set down a little metal rod, smaller than his little finger and as thick around as a toothpick. It split in two at its head, with plasma emitters on either side.

“A final tool to end an ongoing feud. Something to take revenge for a fallen love, or punish an unfaithful one. A way to get back at a friend’s betrayal.” Krystos looked at Vesta, piercing blue eyes thoughtful. “It would be petty, wouldn’t it? But it’s often the small things…

“Anyway, I’m starting to ramble, and you’re not here to listen to an old man’s musings,” he said, smiling in a soft way that somehow managed to look sickly on his pale face. “You are here to learn about poison. And learn, you shall.”

Krystos pulled two pairs of safety goggles from his robe, one for him and another for Vesta. “They really aren’t needed,” he said, handing a pair to the girl. “But there have been reports of a freak accidents happening in the past. Likely from overzealous workers, but, ahhhh, well…” He looked to her with a crooked half-smile that stretched his leathery skin. “I don’t much enjoy the thought of my eyes entropying in my head. I imagine you don’t either.”

He picked up his little plasma tool and squeezed the stem. A thin bar of plasma sprang forth, spanning the short distance between the emitters on the two heads. “We use this to make the initial cuts,” he began. He motioned with an actual toothpick to the zyphter’s stinger and the top and bottom of its abdomen. “Just enough to break the carapace. No more than that, though—go too far and the poison we want will be vaporized. But this will help weaken the shell for us so we’re less likely to damage the sac as we extract it.”

Again, he looked at Vesta, smiling. “Simple enough, right?”

[Meira]

Vesta practically hovered around her mentor as he retrieved and set up their equipment. She watched his every movement as if she would be quizzed on it later. Such a thing was not entirely impossible and Vesta found that the attention to detail in the tower was beyond precise. The Mythics had a focus that could put a laser beam to shame. In fact, she was fairly certain there was a particularly kooky Kushiban member currently causing a stir with his progress in the field of ocular laser emissions. Fascinating stuff, really.

Krystos was speculating on the possible reasons for the first use of the venom. Vesta had imagined hunting, but she supposed crimes of passion would be just as likely, if not more so. She could imagine a jaded lover, obsessed with revenge, working it out. The kind of anger that might involve, coupled with the focus that must have been required to first extract the venom would have to be astounding. War and hunting seemed more likely to her after that thought. There had to have been failed attempts in the process, and so others to carry on the attempts as well. Whatever the case, Vesta was practically giddy with excitement now, and so was thankful.

Vesta dawned the safety glasses, completely in agreement with her mentor. She was fond of her sight and not willing to part with it any time soon. To her delight, she realized he intended for her to do the actual cutting when he held out the small plasma cutting tool to her and indicated where to begin.

”Simple enough, right?” he asked. Vesta grinned and nodded her head.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she leaned in close and studied the zyphter’s abdomen. The carapace was mostly translucent, but the innards were still obscured somewhat and she had no real knowledge or experience at guessing how thick the carapace might be. But what better way to learn than to simply dive in? Delicately, she brought the tool down over the top of the abdomen. As the plasma beams made contact, there was the thinnest line of smoke as the carapace hissed and burned away. There was no resistance, and so Vesta had to rely entirely on her sight to gage how far to go. After a moment, she stopped, moving her hand out of the way to examine her work. Along the top of the abdomen, there was the fainted indication of a hole. Vesta set back in, extending the opening until much of the upper part of the abdomen was opened.

“Is this large enough?” she asked, eyes glancing toward her mentor.