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It's been a while since Fox and Weaver have had time to get out in the woods together, and Fox is waiting in their usual meeting spot near Wissahickon Creek. She's had a wonderful run out from the city, slinking between buildings and scrambling up alleyways until she got free of the city proper and could make a beeline up toward Manayunk. Running along the creekbed is absolutely exhilarating.
By the time she gets to the little clearing, she's run so much that even her hardy stamina has been challenged, and after drinking her fill from the creek itself (it's nice to not worry about being poisoned by strange water in random creeks, and such is the life of a Thyrsus), she flops down, panting, and rolls on her back, kicking her black little paws in the air and ruching her back against the spring mulch comprised of last autumn's leaves and twigs. Life is good when you're a Fox being his fox self.
Weaver is OG Orphan of Proteus, well Fox knows. So it shouldn't really surprise her that they arrive in a manner common to their protean confederates: animal form. Spiders are ubiquitous in the world, but being ubiquitous, long distance travel was never really a priority for the lifeforms.
When it comes to long distance travel, Weaver tends to pick efficient creatures suited to the terrain and distance; in this case, they opt for a red tailed hawk. When they spot Fox along the creek, they flit down to the ground and pass through the impossible reformation of the flesh necessary to appear in their more or less human form along the creek bed.
Their single pedipalp dangling off their bisected and drooling jaw twitches an arachnid greeting while each of their eight eyes glitter with warmth.
She chatters in delight once she spots the hawk -- even if it wasn't Weaver, it would be a very exciting thing to see a hawk flying low through the trees. Fox rolls up to her little black paws and does a happy canid prancy-dance. Hop hop, she shifts her weight from paw to paw. When he flows down and outward into his humanoid form, she does too, a sort of full-body yawn that stretches him out into Fox-shape.
This is, of course, just so she can scamper toward them, arms down at her sides, and bonks her head against their shoulder. Normally he flings themself at people, but running at a jumping spider arms out doesn't get good reactions very often.
"Hello, my Fox friend," Weaver slurs around the split in their jaw, returning the hug and using the spines on one of their hands to brush through Fox's unruly hair some. They have to take a moment to shake their hand and dislodge a twig that got stuck there after being brushed out of Fox's hair. The perils of the Orphan life. Once it's done, however, Weaver steps back out of the hug and wonders, "Have you ever spent much time as a slime mold? I was wondering if we couldn't co-opt the way slime molds respond to food as a similar means of approaching active immune system responses--"
Weaver's high minded Orphan discourse is interrupted by a sudden and jarring feeling of someone having walked over the grave of reality. Just a totally disorienting sensation akin to deja vu clubbing a person on the head with a sock full of quarters. There's no need to ask 'did you feel that', since Weaver's face contorts in time with every prickly and offputting subtlety wrapped up in that particular moment.
It is also followed by Weaver's flesh hardening like an exoskeleton, and their forearm barbs and eyes growing suddenly larger and more obviously bent towards offense. Weaver's suddenly a black and white suit of chitinous armor festooned in spears, blades, and 360 vision. They hold perfectly still, because of course they do.
"Hello, my Weaver friend," answers Fox cheerfully, nuzzling against the size of their jaw right next to that split and the pedipalp. A low happy sound in the back of his throat as Weaver grooms him, and then she takes a step back, looking sort of apologetically rueful about the twig stuck in their spines. "I haven't!" she interjects, and then goes quiet when they start laying out their thoughts on how they could muddle with immune responses. "Mm. I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had, but it's more social than experimenta-- "
Their overlapping speech comes to a blunt stop, and Fox's gold-green eyes widen in response. No, there's no need to ask, because their expression makes it very clear that they did, in fact, feel that.
Her skin thickens, taking on the durability and texture of crocodilian skin; claws come curving out of her fingertips and toes; she moves a few steps toward a thick-trunked tree, ready to start climbing up it, apparently.
"It's a good idea, for the record," comes a voice from deeper in the woods, though the voice is instantly familiar to the both of them because it is also Fox's voice. Only it's also not. Some years have been tacked on, perhaps.
Demonstrating the point, a figure steps out from behind a tree in the distance, mostly in silhouette, but most assuredly Fox's silhouette. The figure steps out into the light, revealing ... Fox. An older version of Fox, one wearing an unfamiliar-- to this Fox, anyway --skin tight suit. It looks somewhat uniformish without being a uniform, and has all the hallmarks of being some rare and arcane armor.
"You're going to have questions," she admits reluctantly, "but there's only so much I can answer, and we don't have long."
Weaver is sill frozen in place. This isn't at all unusual for them, though. It's typically followed by a flurry of action which, in this case, might not end well for !Fox.
She stops, one hand's claws digging into the bark of that tree, and blinks their gold-green eyes very slowly. And then? Fox takes a slow step forward, and another one. The sight of ... herself? ... is a very strange one.
"Well. Since I haven't told anyone what this idea is, maybe start by telling me what the idea is." It is, after all, the shortest way to confirm if this is actually her, at least to Fox's mind. More than that, if it is some version of her, she'll be used to the verification call-and-response so patterned into her verifications with Vasha. Her fingers slowly flex, and she steps up and slightly in front of Weaver; a small look over her shoulder at them is accompanied by the smallest smile. They'll have to tear through her to advance directly on this strange !Fox.
Fox is answered not by !Fox, but rather by a !Weaver stepping out from a similar tree in a similar manner. They lack Fox's armor, however, and instead are wearing Lenape leather britches and are otherwise bare chested. They appear to have survived some form of tremendous explosion, as there's scarring and blast damage along their left side, and their left arm is missing below the elbow, replaced instead by what looks like a siderite prosthesis.
Of a spider's leg.
The fact that its tip is bladed and wickedly, impossibly sharp goes without saying. "You want to become what we are. It was a good idea. Adapt or Die, Pigeon." They lift their missing arm and waggle the blade attached to it indicatively. "We are the Heirs of Kishelamàkânk now. Or will be. If you're very careful."
It's one thing to be faced by your future self. That's disorienting enough, but Fox can at least, like, rationalize that, or deal with that to an extent. She weaves in place, as if she suddenly got dizzy for a moment, when !Weaver appears, and there's a small, sharp sound in the back of her throat. The sight of the prosthesis, the scars -- she always did take harm to Her People much harder than she ever took any kind of danger or harm to herself.
"... yes, that's -- " -- the core and root of the concept, when you come down to it. Adapt or Die, while keeping the core of who they are. "Okay. Um. So you're doing the Future Thor thing, which... outside of Marvel movies, is not that -- easy." That's the understatement of the year. "So what's so important that you did that?" That you broke rules that matter to the Pentacle.
There is nothing more on brand for Fox in a situation like this than writing careful notes to reference later. No doubt a large gathering of people advised !Fox on just what to say, and on just what to avoid saying. So, after holding up a finger to indicate a plea for patience, !Fox digs into a pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, carefully unfolds it, smooths it out needlessly, clears his throat, and then offers a sheepish smile to both members of the audience.
"In your time, you know that you are locked in a struggle with the Seers of the Throne, and that the Mysteries of the Tree are guiding you towards something important." !Fox pauses, looks about to make sure reality hasn't imploded at this admission, and then continues reading. "We are from a future where the fight is going well. We have them on their back feet. We're fighting them on multiple fronts and we're winning." !Fox looks up to Fox and adds, "Our Heart is being very Vasha in fighting in one of them even now. So. You need to get ready for that again." There's a tight, sad smile there, briefly.
"But they're fighting back. Our timeline is growing increasingly unstable. We think they're in your present, undoing our present. Your future. If they succeed, we won't." There's clearly more she'd like to say, because !Fox makes a frustrated little sound and rumples the paper, looking aside at !Weaver who gives !Fox an understanding smile. "If you tell them what's going to happen, it won't."
This is very on-brand, and the very act of it makes Fox shift her weight from one foot to the other. As if it wasn't confirmation enough that, you know, they pulled some Archmaster-level tricks in order to get here in the first place. No, really, Fox, it's really-really-really a future you!
"I need to be sure I understand you," Fox finally says. "Are you saying that ... you think the Seers have kind of ... Avengered back in time to undo the future that you've made happen? Because if they did that, then... I mean -- "
"I'm not -- " An Archmaster. "I don't know-- " Timely, perhaps, her response, it being almost Passover and all. Unspoken, which !Fox most likely can follow as her train of thought, the Moses-like 'how can I possibly do this? I'm not an Archmaster, how could I fight that level of power?'
A small, worried sound in the back of her throat.
Future!Fox can surely see the tiny twitch at the corner of one eye as she registers the 'Our Heart is fighting Seers again in a scary way' and then just pushes that emotional thread down into its own second train of thought. Most common use of One Mind Two Thoughts for Fox is not thinking separately but putting her feelings away.
As !Fox sees the lights start to come on inside of Fox, his head slowly begins to nod, encouraging Fox's brain to continue making those connections and inferences, all with a slowly widening smile.
"Yeah. Exactly."
Future!Weaver chimes in, "I had long suspected that one of the ways the Exarchs maintained control in our reality was through temporal control here in the Fallen world and Ur-control of the root symbolism within the Realms Supernal. Both can be effected without literally anyone ever being aware it was done, since the events being opposed simple never happened in the first place. Win the war by ensuring it never took place to begin with."
Weaver glances aside to Fox and admits, "I am a very clever spider, and that is all true."
Future!Weaver then confirms, "Yes. We are. And it is."
Which prompts !Fox to rejoin the conversation, "It doesn't matter, Fox. We can only win this fight if you win yours. You need to give us the chance to do this. I wish I could show you everything that's at stake. I wish I could just -- ARGH. It's so silly! Silly rules!" Fox stomps his feet in frustration for a moment before continuing with a heavy sigh, "Our dreams are coming true, but only if you let us start dreaming. You won't be alone. There will be others that take up this fight. Just. Realize that if you do it you'll be a criminal."
Future!Weaver concurs, "A Time Criminal."
Future!Fox nods enthusiastically, "Tell Vasha. The sex is amazing."
Much the same way that foxes tend to freeze in the undergrowth if they're either threatened or hunting something, Fox has gone completely still now. Everything is sort of -- pushing in on her. And it's not that she doesn't hear her future self talking, it's that her brain is turning things over, looking underneath the metaphorical rocks.
"You are a very clever spider," she answers somewhat rotely but not devoid of warmth or affection. She's literally thinking in one train of thought and having her emotions in another, so it does make her reactions just a little weird. "And that makes an upsetting amount of sense."
Finally, she lets out a soft breath when !Fox tells him that he'll be a criminal. "Pikuach nefesh," she answers, as if that's everything that needs to be said on that matter. Sure, she'll be a Time Criminal if she does, but if that's the price that needs to be paid in order to protect the minds of all humanity, then, you know. The greatest charity you can do for someone is that which allows the recipient to become self-supporting, and, you know, saving souls and lives. "Besides, fighting them is what I'd be doing anyway."
Fox clearly has some sort of Idea, or some big Thought, but she's holding on to it. "Okay," she finally says quietly, nodding her head once. "Oh, don't worry. I'll tell him. We're sexy Time Criminals."
And then, with her eyes glittering, she tosses herself at ... herself... for One Big Smooch. If you're going to be a Time Criminal anyway, you might as well snog the hell out of your future self. Anyone else in the Orphans got that experience under their belt? No? Just Fox? Okay.
The two Weavers do what Weavers do whenever the topic of sex comes up. They talk about weird stuff and share the cool rock they found on their morning walk.
"So. Siderite?"
Future!Weaver brandishes the limb, "Yes. Imbued besides. It's detachable."
Weaver nods agreeably, "It would have to be. How else would you--"
Future!Weaver joins in on completing the sentence, as the two say together, "--add the waffle skillet."
Weaver adds, "The Lodge must love you on breakfast for dinner day."
Future!Weaver nods agreeably once more, though whatever they'd been about to say is pushed aside when the Foxes come up for air. "The non-oviparous are so weird. Can we go now? Stay here much longer and there'll be an Acamoth."
Future!Fox sighs reluctantly, since making out with himself was always a bucket list item, let's be honest. "Yeah. I guess. Time for final questions if you have any."
He wipes his mouth absently with the back of his hand and grins lopsidedly. In for a penny, in for making out with yourself if you're going to be a Time Criminal anyway. Fox pats !Fox's shoulder gently.
"I know you can't tell me anything or give me any spoilers or it won't come true, but... " she frowns. "Can you tell me something that doesn't make any sense out of context but if I get there on my own I'll know that we're on the right path? Like when people posted pictures of Squidward in order to talk about Avengers Endgame without actually giving spoilers and you only understood it if you'd actually seen the part where Tony Stark calls someone 'Squidward'?"
They don't ask any specific questions. They know better than that. They don't ask where the scars came from or how the waffle iron attaches.
"I wish I could tell you everything, of course. But it's a twofold problem, me. They're undoing my reality, so the changes that happen here? They've always happened here. It's only due to-- Um." Fox stops as much by his own volition as a sudden sidelong stare from Weaver. "If you get yourself anchored outside of your timeline, you can notice changes to it when they ripple through." Speaking around Time Archmastery again. Perhaps their !Vasha is invovled, somehow.
"That's the only way we were even able to notice this starting. We..." Fox looks to Weaver and tries to conjure the term used by someone else in explaining all of this to him, "...cross-referenced the temporal signatures and potentiality threads and they all intersected in Philadelphia, 2021. We know it's Seers. We know it's not the Pylon you're familiar with. We know an Acanthus of the Panopticon is involved."
Future!Fox then gives !Weaver an uncertain glance and pulls out an envelope from his uniform pocket. A small, greeting card style envelope. Small, even, for a greeting card. It is sealed and has, in Vasha's utilitarian cyrillic hand, 'KRASNAYA' printed on the front. "But I'm guessing this is when he meant for me to give this to you. And now we need to go."
A sudden thought leaps into !Fox's head then, and she blurts out, "Tell Balm I lov--" and then they're both just gone. Reality smooths out the wrinkle like a hot iron, leaving the present steaming and pressed in its wake.
There are a lot of other things that Fox could react to in that moment, between the envelope that she closes her hand around to all of the words that she stuffs into his head for later reference.
But those last four words, man. That's what makes their face crumple up like wet tissue once the future has gone and she doesn't have to act like this isn't freaking her out anymore. Fox had been holding it together so good, trying to get as much as possible out of this in terms of information. She'd done so well! But those last four words? After those, she just sort of sways in place and then falls to her knees, pulling in sharp, short barks of breath.
After all, the only reason !Fox would need her to do that is if Balm was dead in their time.
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