Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius was no stranger to nightmares.

In the night, he'd relive a thousand failures, experience horrors impossible for a wakeful mind to comprehend, and suffer underneath the crushing weight of his collective doubt.

He had learned to sleep, despite them.

It *was* uncommon to suffer a nightmare while awake... but the level of anxiety he was experiencing, he had grown more-or-less accustomed to.

Well over a hundred personally-felt deaths burdened Tycon's soul.

However, the pain of losing each and every one of his stalwart companions remained.

Granted, the ache had dulled over however-many decades.

Tycon identified it as... guilt.

It was guilt for remaining alive and hale while others far-more-deserving were... not so.

Concerning those old allies, more often than not, their names escaped him. He could not recall their faces... their personalities, their quirks-- not even their strengths and weaknesses.

It was *somewhat* a relief... an inadvertent benefit of forgetting himself up until 'awakening' in the Kingdom's city of Nice only a few years prior.

Since then, he'd relied on cold logic as his trusted guide rather than his emotions.

Why should he allow himself to be so affected by persons lost both to life and to memory?

However, logic also bid him an unpleasant, lingering concern.

From which of his lives did the dead hail?

--and where he felt guilt, was there yet another who felt resentment?

"MISTER TYCON!!" The young boy raised his voice, "Dagnabit. Kin ya HEAR ME?"

"Not now, Kimura Tamaki," Tycon waved. "I'm busy lamenting your death and my shoddy memory."

Young Master Tamaki of House Kimura was a young gentleman he did happen to remember.

He was a cultivator from the Ivory Judge sect who accepted Tycon's invitation to Sol Invictus at scarcely thirteen or fourteen years of age.

He was kind and just. He was enjoyable to converse with.

Despite his unhurried speech and the fact that his proficiency at the common tongue was mediocre at best... the young man was supremely intelligent in his multiple fields of expertise.

His Class was Fisherman, but his abilities as a pathfinder and survivalist rivaled even the highest tiers of human Rangers and Scouts.

Had that not been so rare a Class amongst adventurers, Tycon would have labored to keep one in every party he traveled with.

As far as his quirks were concerned... the boy might have been... taller than he was.

--but not by much.

A head-and-a-half was not so much.

The honest, blonde boy would have outgrown his sire if it weren't for his death during one of Sol Invictus' missions in the Kingdom.

Tycon opened his eyes, "Get out of the river, young man."

Tamaki lifted his arm out of the waters.

A bottom-feeding fish, its width nearly the size of Tycon's waist, was... inhaling the boy's arm just past the elbow.

"I'm noodlin' fer catfish!!" He declared.

That... was a catfish? Its scales were an ugly dirt color. It had spines growing along its back that were likely venomous. It also had sharp fangs.

...Also, that was not a good enough reason to be wading so nonchalantly in a creature-filled, memory-stealing, soul-tearing river, no matter what plane of reality they were in.

Then again... Tamaki seemed mostly fine, save for his right arm.

The boy bled profusely... ghostly blood-- or... if his memory served, the proper term for it was 'ectoplasm.'

Tycon crouched down at the riverbank and narrowed his eyes.

"How is your memory, Young Master?"

He also wanted to ask how much his sense of pain had dulled-- but he feared that would be rude.

Tamaki swept back his wet, translucent hair and scratched at his cheek... "I uh... ah hate ta say it, but I uh... plum forgot where I parked ma raft."

The usage of a delicious fruit as an adjective was... undeniably charming.

"Your raft, Young Master... is immediately behind you," Tycon offered politely.

"Oh HO!" Tamaki twirled around.

Tycon took a vigilant half-step backward to avoid the splash of potentially memory-stealing river water.

"Thanks, Tycon!" The boy cheered, "Yer a lifesaver!"

"That is literally opposite of what I am," Tycon frowned. "I'm assuming you've forgotten, but it was on my orders that you were sent to die."

Tamaki smashed the catfish upon the wood of the raft before slipping it off into his basket. It was a smooth motion that conveyed his skill at... noodling for Lethernan Catfish.

The teenager then climbed up onto the platform, sitting on the edge with his shins in the water.

"Did Lone and Mister Dragan make it out alright?" He asked, "Can't really remember."

"We were talking about *your* death, Kimura," Tycon furrowed his brows, "You should be very cross with me, young man."

"But I ain't?" Tamaki kicked his feet, "It's real peaceful here in heaven. All I do e'rry sun is sleep when I'm tired... go fishin' when ahm hungry... or dig a hole when ah need to poop. It's like bein' retired-- almost?"

"This is..." Tycon stopped himself before continuing.

He had originally estimated they were *not* in any of the eleven heavens... but he realized that was not a certainty.

At any rate, there was little difference between the heavens and hells, save for whether devils, demons, angels, or primordial beasts had more dominant populations.

...He'd continue operating on the assumption they were in hell until proven otherwise.

Tycon shook his head, "Dragan lives... as does your sister, Taree."

"I have a sister?" Tamaki grinned, "Oh, boy. Hope she's doin' alright!"

"If she has been slacking in her training, I will ensure the opposite," Tycon shrugged. "And concerning Lone... I'm currently on a quest to rescue him-- his soul is being suppressed by a pair of ancient Elven artifacts."

Tamaki's eyes drifted upward to the empty sky... "Sounds... complicated."

Likewise, Tycon's gaze drifted elsewhere as Krysaos' words came to mind: "You don't say..."

"Alright. That's enough dilly-dallyin'."

Tamaki smiled happily as he picked up a long paddle, using it to help him stand.

It was an innocent smile that prodded at the stony walls of Tycon's hardened heart.

"Say, Young Master Tycon," He said, "you wanna be my huckleberry 's we drift downriver?"

Tycon took a deep breath, "Young Master Tamaki... I have no idea what that means-- but yes. Yes, I would be honored to be your huckleberry."

"Honestly? ...I don't really know what it means, neither."